Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: Young Adult Books #2: Stowaways Page 2

  “Oh, if you’re not brave enough to go—”

  Jake glowered at the Ferengi. “It isn’t that. But you know Dad wouldn’t like it. For one thing, it’s just plain wrong. For another, I’d get killed, and so would you.”

  “Sure,” Nog said. “But three days on a planet, with nobody to boss us around, nobody to put us to work, nobody to punish us. Three days to do anything we wanted to do. Three whole days to be as free as a Ferengi crocohippus—now, wouldn’t that be worth getting killed a little?”

  “Maybe,” Jake said doubtfully. He thought of how tired he was of Deep Space Nine and of how great it would feel to be out in the open, under a real sky. He even had a break from school now, because it was one of the vacation breaks. Still, he knew he would feel terribly guilty about disobeying his father. Of course, he thought, if his father didn’t actually tell him not to go to Bajor, he wouldn’t exactly be disobeying him. After all, Jake’s dad had not forbidden his son to go. He had only said it wasn’t a good idea, which was a different matter altogether.

  As if he knew what Jake was thinking, Nog slyly added, “Your dad might not even find out about it, if we’re smart. I think my father and my uncle may help us there.”

  It was an extremely tempting offer for someone as tired of staying on a space station as Jake was. He wavered, an uncertain grin starting to spread across his face. “Tell me more.”

  As they sat above the Promenade, swinging their legs and enjoying their privacy, Nog whispered a daring and shady plan. A plan that would indeed call for punishment from their fathers. A plan that would, no doubt, get them in deep trouble.

  And before long Jake was laughing and nodding his head in complete agreement.

  CHAPTER 2

  Jake sat quietly in the restaurant section of Quark’s place, eating a hot-fudge sundae and wishing he had ears the size of Nog’s. That would let him eavesdrop a lot better on the conversation that Nog was having with his uncle Quark. “Lots of off-world travelers in Sakelo City, Uncle,” Nog was saying slyly. “I imagine that some of them will have interesting knickknacks for sale cheap. If I had a few of those to resell here on Deep Space Nine, I could make a handsome profit.”

  Quark was busy mixing some complicated drink for a poker-faced Vulcan. “Mm-hmm,” he said absently. “I like the way you think, Nog. But Sakelo City is strictly off-limits, so you can forget it.” He delivered the drink to the Vulcan with a flourish. “Here you are,” Quark said to the customer. “A delicious, cool, hundred-fruit cooler.”

  “Nonalcoholic,” the Vulcan said.

  “Absolutely!” exclaimed Quark. “I know Vulcan preferences.”

  The Vulcan picked up the tall glass, swirled it so that the multicolored juices inside made rainbow spirals of yellow, red, orange, green, blue, and violet. He sipped it carefully, then raised one slanted eyebrow in appreciation. “This is very acceptable,” he murmured.

  Quark beamed. “Thank you, sir. And I hope you will remember to mention to all your friends that Quark specializes in all sorts of vegetarian and fruit delights.”

  The Ferengi gave the bar and restaurant a quick, all-encompassing glance, moved down the bar, and beckoned Nog to follow him. Now they were a little closer to Jake, and he strained his ears to hear Quark’s confidential whisper: “I’ve been thinking it over, Nephew. You have a good point about Sakelo City. But the difficulty remains: How would you get there?”

  “There is a way, Uncle,” said Nog. In a few words he explained that Dr. Bashir had special permission to visit Sakelo City and would be going there tomorrow. “So,” Nog finished, “all I have to do is find some way to stow away on the Einstein. Then I could spend three days in the Sakelo bazaar, picking up anything I could, and I’d bring it all back here to sell for a profit.”

  “But you’d be sure to be detected,” Quark said.

  “Yes, Uncle. That is why I need your help—and Father’s, too.”

  “Ah,” responded Quark. “Now we come to it.”

  “You have great skills in overriding computer systems,” Nog said. “If you could just arrange a blind spot, maybe in one of the storage compartments, so the computer could not detect an extra passenger, then we could succeed.”

  With a wolfish grin Quark said, “That would be easy enough. And what is in it for me, Nephew?”

  Nog squawked in protest. Jake took another big bite of hot-fudge sundae and smiled to himself. He tuned out the inevitable round of Ferengi bargaining that came next, but he did notice with satisfaction when Quark hissed between his teeth and said, “Very well! It is a bargain—but only because you are my brother’s son and I have a soft spot for you. All I can say is that the trip had better be very profitable.”

  Jake finished the last of his sundae, got up, and strolled away. A grinning Nog caught up with him not far from Quark’s place. “I did it!” he said. “My uncle will adjust the computer, and no one will be able to tell that we’re aboard the Einstein. And Uncle Quark will persuade my father to cover for you. Best of all, it will only cost half my profits. Now there is just one problem left.”

  “What’s that?” Jake asked.

  “I don’t have much money,” Nog admitted. “So I won’t be able to trade for much in the way of goods. Do you, uh, happen to know where I might, uh, borrow—”

  Jake laughed. “I’ve got some credits saved up in my allowance account,” he said. “You can borrow them. Just pay me back after you and Quark have finished all your business.”

  “Fine,” said Nog. He gave Jake a shrewd glance.

  “Now, as to the matter of the interest you will charge me, I won’t pay a credit over—”

  “Forget the interest,” Jake said. “Just give me back the amount of the loan, that’s all.”

  Shaking his huge, bald head, Nog murmured, “Earth people. They’re all crazy.”

  That evening Jake had even more good news. His father told him that the Federation was sending a few members of the Excalibur’s crew to Vigan Delta Five, a planet in a system not too far from the Bajoran system. The Starfleet crew were on a diplomatic mission, paying a courtesy call to the natives of Vigan Delta Five, and Commander Sisko was personally piloting the runabout that would take them there and back. “So you’ll have to do without me for a few days,” Sisko finished. With an odd expression he said, “Rom tells me you’re welcome to spend the time with Nog in their quarters. He says he wants to offer us a gesture of friendship. Is that all right with you?”

  “Sure, Dad,” Jake said, trying hard not to grin. “Uh, how long will you be gone?”

  “Yes, well, watch yourself,” Sisko said. “I’ve rarely known a Ferengi to offer anything out of the goodness of his heart—”

  “It’ll be fine, Dad. Nog is my friend,” replied Jake.

  “Well—behave yourself, then. Now, the Vigan Delta system is about one day’s journey from here,” Sisko said. “The diplomatic mission will take perhaps two days. So we should be back on Deep Space Nine in four or five days.”

  “All right,” Jake said, though inside he was positively gloating. Four or five days! He and Nog would be back from Bajor before his father returned to Deep Space Nine. With a little luck, Jake thought, Sisko would never even find out that he had been gone. Things were working out perfectly.

  Jake sneaked away right after breakfast the next morning. Carrying a small valise with a couple of changes of clothing and his allowance inside, he made his way to the docking ring section of Deep Space Nine as inconspicuously as possible. He met Nog, who carried a well-stuffed backpack. No one paid any attention to the two, possibly because they were such a familiar sight. Both of them loved to hang around the docking ring and spot the exotic travelers coming in from the far reaches of the quadrant.

  Nog led the way to the airlock connecting to the Einstein’s docking port. He touched the controls, and the great geared hatch-cover rolled away. Nog glanced around, but no one was watching. “Hurry,” he said. “My uncle has temporarily disabled the security detectors i
n this corridor. They’ll come on line again just as soon as the hatch closes behind us.”

  The two hustled through the airlock. The hatch closed behind them. “Pretty smart,” Jake said admiringly. “Chief O’Brien will think it’s just another Cardassian computer malfunction.”

  Nog giggled and nodded. Chief of Operations O’Brien had strong opinions on the value of Cardassian engineering systems, and they were all scornful. Nog tapped a control panel beside an interior hatch, and it hissed open, revealing a closet-size space. “In here,” he said.

  The two friends ducked inside, and Nog closed the hatch. The light stayed on, since the local sensors recognized their presence in the compartment—even though Quark had made sure the sensors did not report them to the shuttle computer. “Isn’t this a storage compartment for space suits?” Jake whispered.

  “Right,” Nog answered. “Emergency suits, in case the shuttle loses pressurization. But there’s another compartment right across from us, and there are five suits in there. Since there are only three of us along on this trip, we’re safe enough.”

  “I didn’t mean that,” Jake said. “I was just wondering what happened to the space suits that were in here.”

  “My uncle’s taking care of them,” Nog said.

  Jake felt a qualm. If Quark were taking care of the space suits, chances were the Federation would never see its property again. He had no time to speak to Nog about his doubts, though. Jake heard the faint sound of the airlock opening and closing, and then the hiss of the Einstein’s main hatch as someone entered. After another moment he could hear Dr. Bashir’s voice: “Ops, this is the shuttle Einstein, ready for departure.”

  After a brief delay someone in Ops replied, “Einstein, you are clear for departure. Enjoy your holiday, Doctor.”

  Jake blinked as he heard Bashir’s confident reply: “It isn’t exactly a holiday. But thanks for the good wishes. I’m off.”

  The shuttle shivered as the docking clamps released their hold. Then the thrusters came to life, and Jake had a momentary sense of movement as the Einstein’s inertia-damping field took over the gravity from Deep Space Nine. Then the engines settled into a powerful roar, and the ship was in flight.

  “How long to Bajor?” Nog whispered.

  “Couple of hours,” Jake replied. “Not long.”

  “Did you bring anything to eat?” the Ferengi asked.

  Jake smiled and dug into his valise. “Couple of chocolate bars,” he said, offering one to Nog.

  Nog made a face. “Yuck!” he exclaimed. “How can you stand that stuff? Don’t you have any glop, or maybe some crystal tinglers?”

  “Sorry,” Jake said. “It’s chocolate or nothing.”

  With an exaggerated sigh Nog said, “Hand it over, then. I’ll try to learn to like it.”

  “Take off the wrapper this time,” suggested Jake. “That way it won’t be quite as chewy.”

  “The paper is the best part,” Nog growled, though quietly.

  For a few seconds they both munched their chocolate bars. Then, suddenly, they both stiffened as they heard Bashir’s voice. It rang out loudly, with an edge of sharp command: “Counterespionage Control, this is Secret Agent Bashir, heading for Sakelo City. I intend to clean out that vile den. Any special instructions?”

  Nog’s eyes were wide with shock and surprise. “What does he mean by that?” he demanded in a startled whisper.

  Jake could only shake his head. He had no idea whom Bashir was calling, or what his strange message meant. Jake held a finger to his lips and listened hard.

  “Yes, Control, I can do that,” Bashir said. “It’s all in a day’s work for a top-notch secret agent like yours truly. What? Please repeat that—and don’t worry, I’m on the prime security subspace channel, with the scrambler on full confusion.”

  Though he tried as hard as he could, Jake could hear no one except the doctor. From the baffled look on Nog’s face, Jake guessed that the Ferengi boy, even with his vast and sensitive ear equipment, could hear only the doctor, too. At that moment Bashir laughed scornfully. “Of course I know it’s dangerous, man! But danger means nothing to me. I’11 be back in three days with the news that the rebel conspiracy has been smashed, or my name isn’t Julian Bashir, the Space Falcon!”

  Jake started to giggle. Desperately he covered his laughter so that it came out as short wheezes and gasps. Nog looked at him as if he had suddenly gone out of his mind. “What is it?” persisted Nog. “Who is he talking to?”

  “No—nobody,” Jake gasped. “He—he’s just playing.”

  “Playing? He’s an adult!” Nog objected.

  Jake shrugged. “Still. He’s pretending to be a great spy known as the Space Falcon. He’s not on the subspace radio at all. He’s just pretending to talk to his headquarters. It’s a game except he’s using his imagination, not the holodeck.”

  With a disgusted look Nog snorted, “Humans!” He popped the last of his chocolate bar into his mouth and ate it without even bothering to complain about the taste.

  Several more times during the trip, Dr. Bashir pretended to speak to counterespionage control, whatever that was. He asked for any clues that other, less gifted, spies had discovered, requested an update on the Bajoran political situation, and discussed the various factions of the Bajoran government with his imaginary secret-agent friends. Nog soon ignored all this and dropped off into a light sleep, sitting on the storage compartment floor and hugging his knees, his large head lolling to one side. Jake sat opposite him. It was a tight fit. Their toes touched each other. Jake wished he could doze, too, because he had been so excited about the trip to Bajor that he had hardly slept the night before. He still was too keyed up to sleep, and so he listened to Dr. Bashir’s imaginary transmissions, grinned at their wildness, and tried not to laugh.

  Eventually Dr. Bashir spoke to someone who actually spoke back. He asked for clearance to land at the Sakelo Hub spaceport, and after a moment or two a Bajoran voice said, “Permission granted, shuttle Einstein. You will land on East Pad Seven. Is your shuttlecraft standard Federation design?”

  “Yes, it is,” Bashir responded.

  “Very well. Prepare to transfer control to us in thirty standard seconds from … now.”

  Half a minute passed, with the Bajoran controller counting down the last fifteen seconds. Then the roar of the engines changed pitch, and Jake felt a slight change in gravity. The shuttle’s inertial damping had been turned off, and now Bajor’s gravity, slightly less than Earth normal, was taking the place of the artificial gravity. The ship settled in with a few light bumps, and then the controller said, “Welcome to Bajor, shuttle Einstein. Please wait for your escort outside your craft. Your escort will arrange for any routine maintenance your craft may need and will process you through a brief welcoming protocol.”

  “Do I have to go through customs?” asked Bashir.

  “Customs?” asked the controller, sounding surprised. “No, of course not. We have a treaty with the Federation. You are free to come and go as you choose. It’s just a formality, to make sure you can find your way around the city.”

  “I see.” The doctor’s voice took on some of its make-believe edge: “Then this is Dr. Julian Bashir, reporting to Sakelo City, Planet Bajor.”

  “Er-of course,” said the Bajoran controller.

  Jake heard the doctor walk past their hiding place, and then he heard the shuttle door open and close. After a few seconds more, when he was sure that the doctor had left the ship, he nudged Nog’s foot. “Wake up!” he said. “We’re here!”

  “Um?” Nog asked, stirring and stretching. “We landed?”

  “About five minutes ago,” Jake said.

  “Hmm. I didn’t even notice. Dr. Bashir is a better pilot than I thought,” Nog said. “Is the beach transparent?”

  “Huh?” asked Jake.

  Nog looked irritated. “I thought that was an old Earth expression,” he said. “It means ‘Is anyone looking?’”

  Shaking his hea
d, Jake said, “You got it a little wrong. The expression should be, ‘Is the coast clear?’ And the answer is, I don’t know. Let’s take a look.” Quietly the two boys rose. Nog opened the storage hatch, and they stepped out into the empty shuttle. They paused at the shuttle door while Jake peered out through the viewports. “Nobody is looking,” he said. “Let’s go!”

  Nog opened the shuttle door, and they stepped out onto a raised circular platform. It was one of a cluster of nine, and one of the few that was occupied. Three of the others had small craft on them: a personal space yacht (though it looked a little old and beaten-up), a spherical Mendebelan personal transport, and a shiny asteroid hopper. No one was around any of them.

  It was early morning in this part of Bajor, with a clear sky and bright sunlight. After a bit of exploring, Nog found a stair that wound around the side of the cylindrical landing pad, and then they hurried through a long, dim tunnel. Light shone at the far end. They came out into a sunny plaza, its pale orange brick walkways crowded with people from dozens of planets, all of them apparently talking, laughing, and cursing at the top of their lungs. Humble shops lined the walks, their small windows hopefully displaying goods for sale. Many more merchants did business in the open air, from carts or even from the vast pockets of their robes. A juggler in gaudy red, green, and yellow silks danced through the crowd while keeping three flaming torches spinning in the air, trailing streamers of blue smoke. A pretty, dark-haired Bajoran girl laughed and clapped her hands, her brass bracelets jangling. A procession of hooded Bajoran priests came by, mumbling a string of blessings to passersby. A plump merchant respectfully saluted the priests with one hand while he jingled a heavy purse in the other. Jake and Nog hung back a little, for ahead of them in the crowd they could see Dr. Bashir taking it all in as he sauntered along.

  Strange sights, smells, and sounds washed over them. “Man,” Jake said. “This is gonna be great.”

  “I agree,” Nog said. He stood with his head jerking from side to side. To the left was the pretty girl, and on the right was the merchant’s fat purse. Nog was obviously attracted by both. “So little time”—he sighed—“so much opportunity.” He clapped Jake on the back. “Stick with me,” he said, “and I’11 make you the happiest human on Bajor—except, of course, for the Space Falcon!” The crowd parted and stared at the two young men as they walked together, laughing like Rigellian howling hodo birds.