Part 16 (1/2)

THE EYE OF TALEK LOOMED before them like a hole punctured in the fabric of s.p.a.ce, notable for an absence of stars and a golden halo of gas and dust streaming into it. The black hole was the size of a saucer section on a big stars.h.i.+p, but almost brilliantly black, like the sun as seen in a photographic negative.

Sam turned away from the viewscreen and looked at Grof, who was beaming with pleasure. ”Isn't it magnificent?” asked the Trill with a grand sweep of his arms.

” 'Scary' is the word I would use,” replied Sam. ”I thought you said this was a small black hole.”

”It is. If it were a large one, we couldn't have come this close.”

”What's on the other side?” asked Jozarnay Woil, the Antosian material handler.

Grof laughed. ”There is no other side-it's a celestial body with gravity so strong that not even light particles can escape. An old professor of mine used to call this singularity a 'gravity graveyard.' The smaller the black hole, the older it is. Over time, some material will escape through natural quantum stepping, so in ten billion years, maybe this black hole will shrink to nothing. For now, it's the only place where Corzanium can be found.”

”However,” said Taurik, seated at the conn, ”the main reason our task is so difficult is that gravity warps s.p.a.ce. At a distance directly proportional to the ma.s.s of the collapsed object, an event horizon occurs. In essence, the material making up the black hole exists in a different s.p.a.ce-time continuum, which is why the gas and debris seem to disappear when they enter. This is also why we must quantum-step the Corzanium out, particle by particle.”

”Have you and Horik made the adjustments to the tractor beam?” asked Grof.

The Vulcan nodded. ”The metaphasic s.h.i.+eld enhancer is on-line and has been integrated with tractor-beam operations.”

”Excellent!”

Sam's mind wandered while Grof and Taurik engaged in a rapid-fire discussion of various scientific aspects of their mission. He was more concerned about the Jem'Hadar attack s.h.i.+p that had trailed them halfway across Carda.s.sian s.p.a.ce, just to make sure they attended to business and didn't try to escape. Sam was determined to disappoint them and escape anyway.

Since they didn't have any weapons and couldn't run fast enough from the small wars.h.i.+p, the only plausible plan was to escape in the attack craft itself. Either that, or they had to use their transporters to damage the Jem'Hadar s.h.i.+p-in effect, tossing a monkey wrench into their engine.

While Grof, Taurik, and Woil continued their discussion, Sam used the ops console to locate the Jem'Hadar s.h.i.+p. The small but deadly craft had a.s.sumed an outer orbit around the Eye of Talek at a distance that was a hundred kilometers beyond their transporter range. The trick would be to lure it closer with some kind of catastrophe or emergency. But what?

The Jem'Hadar were undoubtedly prepared for an escape attempt, and they were certainly under orders to make sure the prisoners perished rather than escaped. As prisoners and crew, they were expendable, but their cargo was not. The tanker would soon be very important to the Dominion and the war.

That meant they would have to extract a large amount of the exotic ore before they could make their move-probably by making the tanker appear to be threatened. If they weren't careful, they could all die in an accident before they had a chance to make a break for it. Reluctantly, Sam tuned back in to ongoing conversation, figuring he had better concentrate on their mission for the time being.

Jozarnay Woil still looked confused as he scratched the bun of tight black hair atop his head. ”Professor, can you go through the high points one more time? Listening to you and Taurik is over my head.”

Grof thrust his finger into the air. ”To begin with, the Corzanium is extremely volatile until we quantum-step it beyond the event horizon and recombine it in the chamber. The sequence goes like this: Using the tractor beam, we lower the mining probe into the black hole just above the event horizon. Then we bombard the hole with tachyons, which changes the terms of probability and quantum-steps the particles, expelling them in the process. You might compare this to drilling in a typical mining operation. Now we have escaping matter which we can guide into the probe with the tractor beam. Then we beam the probe on board and put it in stasis.

”After that, Mr. Woil, you work your magic and transfer the ore from the stasis field into the recom chamber. Then it's just like any other metal, except that it has a unique resistance to gravity.”

The Antosian shook his head. ”No wonder it's so rare.”

”We wouldn't be here if it weren't,” muttered the Trill.

”Remember, we only have three probes,” said Sam, trying to sound interested. ”We can't afford to lose any.”

”That will be plenty,” countered Grof.

”When do we start?” asked Woil.

”There's no time like the present!” The Trill clapped his hands together.

”I would take issue with that,” replied Taurik. ”While some of us have been sleeping, others like myself have been on duty for twenty-five hours straight. Although you make the extraction process sound relatively simple, it is anything but. A mistake by any one of us could destroy this s.h.i.+p and all aboard.”

”But we could get a start,” countered Grof. ”Take some readings, prepare the equipment.”

”A mistake in any of those tasks would be equally disastrous,” answered Taurik.

”He's right,” said Sam, putting a friendly hand on Grof's beefy shoulder. ”Let's get some rest. Do you think our shadow would mind?”

”Forget them,” said Grof irritably. ”They're merely an escort-I am in charge of this mission.”

”But they have the weapons,” Sam reminded him.

”Oh-six-hundred hours,” grumbled the Trill, checking his chronometer. ”No later than that.”

”Okay, no later,” Sam a.s.sured him. ”Woil, can you tell the others?”

”Sure, Captain.” The Antosian climbed down the ladder, and the last thing to disappear was the bun of black hair atop his head.

”I want this to go smoothly,” warned Grof, ”And if it doesn't,” said Sam, ”you can harangue me about it in the next life.”

The Trill shot him a look of disgust. ”Remember, I'm an unjoined Trill-I only get one life.” Then his glower changed into a tepid smile before he clomped down the ladder, pulling the hatch lid shut behind him.

”Is he mellowing, or is he crazy?” asked Sam rhetorically.

”I think a bit of both,” answered Woil. ”The question is, what are we?”

”We're biding our time,” said Sam, biting off the wrapper of a rations bar.

”All instruments and systems back on-line,” said the young man at the ops panel with obvious relief. On the viewscreen of the Orb of Peace, the murky but alluring dust cloud called the Badlands faded from view. The rectangular transport finally escaped into open star-studded s.p.a.ce.

Ro Laren looked up from her conn and turned to see a dozen young pseudo-Bajorans gathered on the cramped bridge, beaming at her. The final leg through the Badlands had been extremely tense, with plasma storms rippling all around them, and most of the crew had peeked into the bridge to offer support or look for camaraderie.

Ro gave them a smile and said, ”Well done.”

”Well done to you,” declared Captain Picard, who then leaned back in his seat at the tactical station and took a deep breath. ”There aren't many people who could have made it through there.”

”n.o.body else was foolish enough to try,” answered Ro. She stood and stretched, thinking that she was more stiff now than she had been when she was tied to a chair on the pirates' s.h.i.+p.

”Captain Ro, I think you deserve some relief, and some rest.” Picard motioned to one of the young bystanders to take her place at the conn, and Ro didn't resist. She stepped aside and let the blond woman have her seat.

”Our course is laid in,” Ro told her. ”Just take her to maximum warp, when ready.”

”Yes, sir.”

The Bajoran turned to Picard and asked, ”Any sign of enemy s.h.i.+ps?”

”There are a few possible s.h.i.+ps on long-range scans, but none of them are headed to intercept us. I think we're finally clear of the border patrol.”

Ro let out a sharp breath. At last, they were behind enemy lines.

Picard squinted at his board and reported, ”I'm picking up something that might be the artificial wormhole. It's where our friends said it was.”