The Long Night (25 page)

Jepson hit the Defiant with a barrage of photon torpedo fire. The ship rocked, and Ensign Harsch nearly fell out of his chair. "Sorry, sir," he said.

"Keep your post, son," Sisko said. "Ensign Kathé, keep me informed as to what the Jibetians and the Cardassians are doing. Ensign Harsch, you let me know if anyone gets near the Nibix. Ensign Coleman, on Jepson's next pass, I want you to hit his underbelly with full phaser fire. His ship has a weakness in the shields near its engines. You'll only get one shot. Make it good."

"Aye, sir." Coleman's voice was shaking.

Sisko stood. The Ferengi ship in this formation belonged to the nagus. He was wrong. The Andorian ship wouldn't go for the Nibix. The nagus would.

The ships had swung around for another attack. This time as Jepson flew overhead, Sisko shouted, "Coleman. Now!"

Coleman aimed the phaser fire and the Jepson's shields flared red. The red swelled, then the shields failed. The ship exploded like a kid's balloon against a pin.

The explosion rocked the Defiant.

"Ensign Kathé, get me the nagus."

"He's not answering the hails, sir."

"Then send this message. Tell him his ship is next if he doesn't stop this attack."

"Aye, sir." She hit her panel. "Still no response."

"Ensign Harsch, examine that Ferengi ship for weakness." Sisko glanced up. The Idaho had opened fire on the other Ferengi ships, but they were holding their ground. The Madison had crippled one trader vessel. The other two had drawn back, outside of fire range. So far, the Madison was not pursuing.

And the Cardassians hadn't made a move.

Neither had the Jibetians.

Sisko didn't like this.

The Defiant rocked with another blast, this one coming from the Andorian trader ship.

"Where's the nagus?" Sisko asked as he grabbed his command chair for balance.

"Over the Nibix. He's firing on it, sir."

"Firing on it! What is he doing? Put me on screen," Sisko snapped.

"They have a channel open, sir, but they're not responding.

"That's good enough," he said. "Zek, this is Commander Benjamin Sisko. If you fire on the Long Night again, we will consider your action a declaration of war upon the Federation. Is that clear?"

The nagus's face suddenly appeared on screen. "You owe us the right to examine the Nibix."

"You're not going to get it if you destroy the ship," Sisko said. "And you're certainly not going to get it if you fire upon any Federation vessel. I order you to stop now, Zek, before it's too late."

The Andorian trader ship hit the Defiant with a barrage of phasers.

"Our left shield is buckling, sir," Harsch said. "The extensions have weakened it."

"Keep it working, son," Sisko said. "Zek? Did you hear me?"

"I heard you, Commander. I also heard you're in trouble. You can't take me on."

"But the Bosewell can. And if they have trouble, we have two more starships here and the station's firepower. Give it up, Zek."

Another hit from the trader ship.

"Sir, the shields-"

"Ensign Coleman," Sisko said, "one photon torpedo to the trader's port side."

"But, sir-"

"Do it now, Ensign."

Coleman did. The torpedo connected and demolished the trader's shields. It blew a hole in the port side, and all the lights on the vessel winked out.

"What's the ship's status, Ensign?"

"They've lost life support, sir."

"Zek," Sisko said. "Zek, your friends will die without your help. And we'll destroy you if we have to. The ship we're towing is under our protection."

"The Jibetians don't want you to have it."

"The Federation and the Jibetians have an agreement," Sisko said. "And you shouldn't eavesdrop on other people's private communications. This isn't a Ferengi concern."

"It's always a Ferengi concern when profit is involved."

"If you attack the Nibix," Sisko said, "it is no longer about profit. It's about profiteering and war. Think how much a war with the Federation will cost your people, Zek. Think about it. Sisko out."

The other two Ferengi ships had stopped attacking the Idaho. The third Andorian trader vessel went to help its injured comrade. The remaining trader vessel backed away from the Madison.

The nagus's ship didn't move.

"What do you think he's going to do, Commander?" Ensign Coleman said.

"He'll back off," Sisko said. "The Ferengi hate to fight prolonged wars. It eats into their precious profits. Anything he could make on the Nibix wouldn't be worth the eventual cost. Zek is a smart man. He knows that."

After a moment, the nagus's ship turned and retreated.

The Cardassian ships hadn't moved. Neither had the Jibetians. The other ships around the station had moved to the perimeter, watching, waiting.

Sisko hit his comm badge. "Dax? Are you all right?"

"We're fine here, Commander," Dax said. "Shaken but no damage."

"Good," Sisko said. "Let's take this baby home."

He wiped the sweat off his forehead. The first fight of the battle had taken less than a minute. Jepson was gone as was one trader vessel. Another was crippled, and the Ferengi, for the moment, were out of the fight. None of the starships had suffered any significant damage. Neither had the Nibix.

"Captain Higginbotham is hailing us. He's coming in scrambled," Kathé said.

"On screen."

Higginbotham appeared. His cheeks were flushed beneath his graying beard. "Benjamin, if we take the Nibix in close and the Cardassians attack, we won't be able to defend without threatening the station. If the Cardassians and the Jibetians join forces, we won't have enough firepower to defend that ship in close."

"I know," Sisko said, "but I have a secret that will do the trick. But I don't dare play the hand until we're closer to the station."

Higginbotham shrugged. "It's your call, Ben. We'll watch your back. Madison out."

He winked off the screen.

Sisko hit his comm badge. "Dax? Chief? Are you ready to fly her into dock?"

"Any time," Dax's voice said.

"How about now?" Sisko said. "Ensign Harsch, drop the shields around the Nibix and release the tractor. But stay close enough to shield it again instantly."

"Yes, sir," Ensign Harsch said.

The small thruster jets fired on the Nibix, and it eased toward Deep Space Nine. Sisko watched on his screen as the long lost ship moved into dock on its own power after eight hundred years in space.

Over twenty different warships from a half-dozen different cultures watched.

And waited for someone to make the next move.

THE DOCTORS SURROUNDED the jury-rigged coldsleep chamber. Dr. Bashir stood near the Supreme Ruler's head, monitoring the diagnostics. Dr. Wasner slowly raised the temperature on the chamber as Dr. Silverstein monitored the cellular damage. They had just started injections of nanobuilders designed to help the cells rapidly regenerate.

Silverstein estimated that the ruler had eighty-five percent cell damage in the weaker tissues. The nanobuilders were his only hope.

"He still has brain function," Bashir said as the temperature rose.

"But his heart isn't going to work. It's not ready yet. Slow it down, Wasner," Silverstein said.

"I can't slow it down. If I reverse the process, I confuse his body and he dies."

"It may not be that simple," Bashir said. "The Jibetians used drugs to induce cold sleep. Some of those might still be in his system."

"After eight hundred years?" Silverstein said. "I don't think so. His cells are breaking down. The chemical compounds would have broken down long before that." She prepared another injection and was about to slide it through the pin-sized hole in the chamber when Wasner grabbed her hand.

"Bashir's right," he said. "We're talking about eight-hundred-year-old technology, Celeste. The chemical compounds used by cultures back then were often harmful combinations that would survive anything natural. We need to scan for them. Only this is ancient technology. I don't know what to scan for."

"I do," Bashir said. He had already started the scan, but so far the results were inconclusive. "Give me a moment."

Silverstein set the injection down. She held her medical tricorder over the ruler's stomach. "He has no liver or kidney damage at all."

"The nanobuilders are working then," Wasner said.

"No," Silverstein said. "I injected them into his lungs and heart, not his bloodstream."

Bashir grinned at her. "That's it then."

She looked confused. "Julian, I don't think his heart is going to make it."

"One more moment," he said. He scanned the liver and kidneys. "I was right. The chemicals are in there. The ancient Jibetians used a screen to slow the organs gently as the person went to sleep. Check the heart, Celeste. It might be there."

"What am I looking for?"

Bashir rattled off the Starfleet equivalents for the Jibetian drugs.

She glanced at him over the ruler, her eyes wide with horror. "But those will-"

"Destroy the nanobuilders, I know."

"Stop that warming process," Silverstein said.

"I can't," Wasner said. "Ancient or modern technology, it doesn't matter. Once the process started, it has to be finished."

Silverstein swore under her breath. Bashir reached behind him. He removed a hypo. "I have a few nanoscrubbers. We could send them in and hope they do the job clearing out the chemicals."

"They won't work, Julian," Silverstein snapped. "Nanoscrubbes must go straight into the bloodstream. His blood isn't moving."

"Straight into the bloodstream so that they can ease into the heart," Bashir said. "We don't have any choice."

An urgent beep made them all look up.

"His heart stopped!" Wasner said.

"Open this thing," Bashir said.

"You'll warm him too fast," Wasner said.

"It doesn't matter," Bashir said. "He's dying anyway."

"If it's not the warmth, it'll be the scrubbers," Silverstein said.

"Have you ever worked with them?" Bashir asked as he quickly filled the hypo.

"Not on cell damage cases."

"Then move. Our only hope is to try." He shoved her out of the way with his body.

Wasner raised the lid on the modified coldsleep chamber and stale frosty air floated out. Bashir shoved the hypo against the frozen fabric of the ruler's cloak, then made the injection, careful not to put too much pressure on the ruler's fragile body. Since it was frozen, even the slightest movement could cause bones to break.

All three doctors stared at the diagnostic display.

Nothing.

No movement.

The heart had stopped.

"See?" Silverstein said. "It was hopeless."

"His skin temperature's rising too fast," Wasner said.

"It doesn't matter. His heart's not moving."

Bashir held the tricorder over the ruler's heart. "The nanoscrubbers have multiplied. They've sent a contingent through the bloodstream. I don't get any chemical readings from the heart at all now, Silverstein. Try your nanobuilders again."

"It's hopeless, Julian," she said.

He whirled. "You are not going to cost a man's life because you believe we're doing an impossible procedure. This is my infirmary and my procedure. Either you do what I say or I'll make certain you get court-martialed and reported to Starfleet's medical board. You'll never practice medicine again."

"You can't do that, Doctor," she said, squaring her shoulders. "I have decades more experience than you do. I know when something's impossible."

"You don't know. No one's done this before."

"Don't question me, Bashir."

"I'm not questioning you," he said. "I am ordering you."

"Celeste," Wasner said softly, "he's right."

She glanced at both of them, then carefully injected the nanobuilders into the heart. Wasner closed the lid on the sleep chamber and modified the temperature as best he could.

"That was a ten-degree rise in temperature," he said. "It might have been too fast."

Bashir didn't care. He was monitoring the scrubbers. They had cleaned out the liver and kidneys and were now moving into the stomach.

The solid whine suddenly stopped.

He looked up. The ruler's heart was fluttering.

"Silverstein," he said.

"I see it." She began deepcold procedures for easing the organs into working order. "Can you raise the temperature more, Wasner?"

"As soon as the blood flows evenly, Doctor," Wasner said. They watched as the heart stopped fluttering and began beating several slow even strokes on its own.

"What's the heart rate on eight-hundred-year-old Jibetians?" Silverstein asked.

"Probably not that much different than modern Jibetians," Bashir said.

"Then we've got it."

The blood moved sluggishly through his body and into the brain.

Silverstein shook her head. "There's amazing amounts of cell damage here," she said.

"Will he wake up?" Bashir asked.

She nodded, her mouth in a thin line. "That's the amazing part. Once the heart was repaired, we have him. He's going to make it."

"With his brain intact," Wasner said. "That low brain function, whatever caused it, saved him there."

"I think I know what caused it," Bashir said. He looked at the green glowing staff. Dax had said that it gave Jibetian rulers longer lives and great powers of recuperation. Such stories were often false. But just as often they were true. Maybe at some point in the future, he'd do a project on the powers of the material the staff was made of. Maybe.

Silverstein glanced over the sleep chamber at Bashir. "I'm sorry, Julian," she said. "If you had listened to me, this man would be dead now."

Bashir smiled. "We all make those kinds of errors, Doctor," he said, "which is precisely why I didn't want to do this procedure alone. Logically, we should have quit there. But there are times when logic is not enough."

Silverstein smiled. "Our captain reminds me of that often," she said. "I suppose he has a point."

Wasner kept monitoring the ruler's vital signs. They were steadily improving as the temperature rose.