"Deanna?" Vaughn said quietly. "Are you all right?"

Deanna fought back tears and nodded. "Just give me a second." Breathe. Get past it. Now isn't the time ...

"Are they searching everyone?" Vaughn asked Data.

Data nodded. "It appears so."

Vaughn turned back to Deanna. "Is there another way into the city?" Inside their coats, they each carried a phaser rifle. In addition, Data concealed a tricorder and Beverly her medical equipment.

Deanna swallowed and pointed to their left to a rough track winding uphill between tall bushes. "That footpath will take us to the director's house. It circles the city to the prison on the other side."

Vaughn nodded. "Then we'll use the footpath. Lead the way, Commander."

The team moved away from the crowd and started up the narrow track of hard-packed red clay that ran behind the extensive gardens of houses on the eastern edge of the city. They had traveled only a short distance when a familiar voice called out behind them.

"Halt!"

Deanna turned to see the Jem'Hadar patrol they had encountered earlier bearing down on them. Beside her, Vaughn shrank back into his old man guise. Beverly took Vaughn's arm as if holding him upright, and Data set the bundle of cavat at his feet. Outwardly, her friends appeared both calm and puzzled at the Jem'Hadar approach, but Deanna sensed their coiled readiness to strike in an instant.

"Why are you avoiding the checkpoint?" the patrol leader demanded.

"We're avoiding nothing," Deanna said. "This path leads to Director Lanolan's house and our home. Besides, my father's mind is failing. The noises of the city frighten him, so we take this route instead of pa.s.sing through all the hubbub and traffic."

The Jem'Hadar leader motioned them onward. "We'll follow you. When you reach the director's house, we'll determine if you are who you say."

"Who else would we be?" Data, resuming his simpleton role with ease, asked in a puzzled and childish tone.

"Shut up, you idiot!" Deanna snapped. "Just pick up the cavat and get moving. We're already late."

With an exaggerated sigh, Data grabbed the bundle. Deanna shoved him ahead of her on the path, and Beverly, aiding Vaughn's faltering steps, brought up the rear. The patrol followed, and Deanna could feel their eyes boring into her back, could read the suspicion in their thoughts. She hoped Lanolan or his wife would be at home to welcome them, or her team would end up battling the Jem'Hadar patrol.

She had forgotten how long, steep, and winding the footpath circling the city was, and their journey to Lanolan's home seemed to take an eternity. Playing on his feigned infirmity, Vaughn stumbled several times, but not long enough to slow their progress. None of them wished to push the Jem'Hadar's patience to the breaking point, because the narrow path offered no room for maneuvering if fighting broke out.

With relief, Deanna spotted the side track that split away from the main path and connected with the prison. She led the way down the steep slope toward the broad avenue and Lanolan's house. Beverly and Vaughn tottered behind her, and Data placed himself at the rear of the group, a comforting shield between them and the Jem'Hadar.

A sweeping glance indicated the neighborhood and the prison on the hill behind the director's house remained undamaged by Darona's occupation force, but intact buildings didn't guarantee their occupants had survived. For the first time, Deanna wondered whether the Jem'Hadar had killed the inmates and if Tevren was still alive. Executing the Betazoid prisoners would have freed the maximum security facility for any prisoners of war the invaders wished to retain. Tevren's death would resolve her moral reservations about this mission, but without his help, what hope did the resistance have?

The Jem'Hadar remained hard on their heels when Deanna and her team turned onto the curving brick walk leading to Director Lanolan's front door. They climbed the broad stairs to the porch, and Deanna signaled their arrival at the entryway. The Jem'Hadar, weapons at the ready, waited at the foot of the steps.

The wide paneled door swung open, and an unfamiliar scrawny woman with a topknot of gray curls confronted them, her fists planted firmly on her skinny hips, her expression belligerent. Deanna could sense the housekeeper's fear. She saw the terror in the woman's eyes when she'd spotted their Jem'Hadar escort.

Before the woman could say anything that would blow their cover, Troi said, "Sorry we're late." And at the same time, she sent a quick thought into the woman's mind: My name's Deanna Troi. Please, I need to see Director Lanolan.

The woman still looked terrified, but defiant. "You must have the wrong house."

Before Deanna could utter a reply, the door slammed in her face, leaving the away team stranded on the porch with the Jem'Hadar blocking their retreat.

Chapter Nine.

"B ATTLE STATIONS."

Picard leaned forward in the center seat, his face set in concentration. The Enterprise, accompanied by the starships Tulwar, Katana, and Scimitar, sped through s.p.a.ce toward the Betazed system at maximum warp to confront the superior Dominion force guarding Betazed and Sentok Nor.

"Picking up six Carda.s.sian Galor -cla.s.s cruisers and four Jem'Hadar attack ships," said Hernandez, the young ensign who had replaced Data at ops.

"Any sign of Dominion battle cruisers?" Picard asked.

"Two on long-range sensors, Captain."

"d.a.m.n," Picard muttered. He had hoped to pierce the station's defenses and leave the area before the battle cruisers arrived. The Enterprise 's mission, to drop shields in the middle of a battle in order to insert Riker's team and then retrieve them from the s.p.a.ce station, would be difficult enough without having to contend with additional enemy ships.

"Slow to warp six," Picard ordered.

The sensors of the enemy fleet and Sentok Nor would pick up the Starfleet warp signatures, but he was counting on the Dominion not to expect the tiny contingent to drop out of warp right on top of the larger enemy force. The captain intended to preserve their element of surprise, but he also wanted to give navigation the best chance to leave warp in a superior tactical position.

"A ship is lifting off Betazed on course for Sentok Nor," Lieutenant Daniels at tactical announced.

"Identify," Picard ordered.

"It's a Carda.s.sian freighter."

Picard relaxed. With minimum armament, one freighter would cause no problem.

"Our escorts?" Picard asked.

"In attack formation, sir."

The Saber-cla.s.s vessels usually served as fast perimeter-defense ships in border regions. Presently guarding the Enterprise 's flanks, the light cruisers had already proved their worth in extensive action on several fronts. Their captains and crews would take full advantage of their agile vessels' maneuverability, which had repeatedly allowed them to hold their own against much larger opponents in hostile frontier regions.

The compact ships, with their crews of forty, saved weight and s.p.a.ce through their internal nacelle configurations. The design feature made the vessels faster but also more vulnerable to full armor penetration and core breaches. Like a boxer who dances to avoid punches, the light cruisers had to keep moving to prevent a total knockout.

"Away team standing by to transport," Riker's voice reported from Transporter Room 2.

"Understood, Number One. Good luck." Picard turned to tactical. "Arm and target quantum torpedoes." He had waited until the last instant, not wanting the enemy to sense the Enterprise was powering up weapons until too late for them to react.

"Targeting," Daniels announced.

The captain tugged at his uniform, and the familiar gesture steadied him. "Helm?"

"Seven seconds to Betazed."

"Prepare to drop out of warp on my mark." Picard directed his order simultaneously to the Saber-cla.s.s ships. "Two, one, mark."

The Enterprise entered normal s.p.a.ce at full impulse. In the distance floated the ma.s.sive hulk of Sentok Nor, its arching pylons and central cylinder dominating the sky over the planet. Two alert Galor-cla.s.s attack cruisers raised shields. Seven others had yet to react.

"Fire quantum torpedoes."

"Torpedoes away, sir."

"Raise shields."

The Saber-cla.s.s ships opened fire at the same time. Picard held his breath, praying their surprise tactic would work. On the viewscreen, streaks of light tracked the weapons to their targets.

At such proximity, the first barrage took only seconds to impact, and the lead Carda.s.sian ship collapsed inward, wheeled into her sister ship, then exploded in an incendiary burst that lit the jet-black sky and destroyed the second ship along with it. A Jem'Hadar attack ship sustained hull damage but returned fire before the Katana finished her off.

The Enterprise shook from the impact of a Carda.s.sian spiral wave disruptor.

"Shields at eighty percent."

"Damage?" Picard asked.

"A minor fire on Deck Three. We already have it under control. Sir, I'm picking up an energy spike from the Katana -"

Ahead to port on the viewscreen, Picard saw the Katana 's starboard nacelle explode, the blast ripping through the entire ship. Forty good men and women lost in a heartbeat, Picard thought sadly. But there wasn't time to mourn them.

"Ahead, three-quarter impulse."

Ensign Kell Perim, the Trill at conn, looked nervously at the viewscreen and the five Dominion ships between them and Sentok Nor, but she laid in the course without hesitation.

Picard reviewed his tactics. Scimitar and Tulwar would continue to draw enemy fire so the Enterprise could drop shields and transport Riker's team onto the station. The Dominion still had nine ships and the s.p.a.ce station's armaments to oppose the smaller Federation force.

Protecting each other's flanks, the remaining four Galor-cla.s.s cruisers closed in battle formation and bore down on the Federation ships. The enemy vessels advanced as a unit, the lead ship firing on the Enterprise.

The science console sparked as Daniels called out, "Shields down to fifty percent."

"Target their engines and weapons," Picard ordered.

At the tactical station, the lieutenant, trembling with adrenaline, his face tight with excitement, held his voice steady. "I have a weapons lock."

"Fire phasers!"

Phaser fire ripped into the closing enemy vessels and inflicted damage, but not enough to slow their approach. Picard left the oncoming enemy to his Saber-cla.s.s escorts and turned his attention to the s.p.a.ce station.

"Tactical, prepare phasers to target the station's shield generators."

"Pulse modulated to Chief O'Brien's specifications, sir."

"Concentrate phaser fire on Section 17 of the outer docking ring." The moment the words left his mouth, Picard wanted to recall them. Daniels knew the battle plan, and Picard wouldn't have repeated it with a more familiar officer-Worf, say-at the station. The last thing he wanted was to add to the nervous tension on the bridge.

"Fire!" Picard ordered.

Phaser beams lanced toward the station, only to be dispersed and absorbed by the shield envelope that glittered silver-green against the bombardment.

"We're coming into transporter range," Perim reported, sweat dripping down her face.

"Transporter room, stand by," Picard ordered. "Mr. Daniels, don't let up. I want those shields down."

The lieutenant at tactical shook his head. "Sir, the modulated pulse isn't penetrating the station's shields."

Picard tapped his combadge. "Number One, patch Mr. O'Brien into tactical. We have a problem."

Picard had planned a quick strike. Nothing fancy. No complicated battle plan-just quickly transporting the away team onto the station, then distracting the enemy long enough for Riker to do his job. A prolonged firefight with a superior force had never been part of the scheme.

From the transporter room, O'Brien gave orders to Daniels. "Try remodulating the phase frequency like so ..."

Deep s.p.a.ce 9's chief of operations routed the data to the bridge's tactical station. Daniels recalibrated, his hands flying over his console.

"Fire," Picard ordered.

Again the station merely glimmered under the blasts. The shields held.

"It's not working," Daniels said, stating the obvious.

"Keep remodulating the frequency along its present curve," O'Brien said with calm confidence. " Eventually you'll find the right one."

Picard swore under his breath. The Tulwar and Scimitar, in spite of brilliantly executed evasive maneuvers, were taking heavy fire. The small cruisers couldn't hold off the Dominion forces much longer.

Again the Enterprise was strafed by Jem'Hadar phased polaron beams. The lights on the bridge dimmed, the auxiliary power kicked in.

"Damage on Decks Four, Eleven, and Twelve," Daniels said. "Shields down to twenty percent."

Picard realized they couldn't win this battle. With the station shields holding, the task force would have to withdraw, rethink their strategy for boarding Sentok Nor, and return to try again.

"Evasive maneuvers. Continue to target weapons arrays and fire at will. Keep us within transporter range." Picard hoped to buy time for the light cruisers to retreat with him. The helm responded sluggishly into a ninety-degree turn.

Immediately, collision alarms blared throughout the ship. Picard leaped to his feet and stared at the viewscreen.

Two Jem'Hadar battle cruisers appeared in their path, blocking their retreat.

Without bothering to announce himself, Gul Lemec stormed into Luaran's office on Sentok Nor. "The resistance is up to something."

The Vorta's mouth twitched in annoyance. "You're making too much of one prisoner's death."

Lemec spoke through gritted teeth. "I hadn't finished interrogating him." The gul slammed a primitive blow dart onto Luaran's desk. "This weapon killed him before he talked. I'm telling you, there's a conspiracy among the Betazoids. They're all supporting the resistance. We must crack down."

"Thus far, what you call cracking down has only produced more resistance," Luaran noted.

Lemec opened his mouth to protest, but a glinn marched through Luaran's open door. "We've gone to battle alert, sir."

"Status?" Lemec asked.

"Sensors have picked up four Federation warp signatures in this sector."