SISKO WISHEDthat Jake hadn't reminded him about the bomb at the docking pylon. This was not the time he needed things like that to be happening.
The turbolift was slow, as it often was. Sisko hit the control again, impatiently, and looked up and down the corridor, with its bare-metal look and exposed lighting. Cardassian architecture was utilitarian, almost grim.
Thinking of the bomb, he tapped his comm badge again. "Sisko to Kira."
"Commander?"
He thought he could detect an impatient undertone in the shortness of her response: Now what was he interrupting her for? "The Kovassii delegation is just about to dock. I assume that your security team has already checked and cleared pylon three."
"It's been done, Commander."
"Any leads yet on who might have planted that bomb?"
"Nothing yet." Now the impatience was even more noticeable.
"Thank you, Major. Sisko out." And under his breath, he muttered, "Damn."
Major Kira was a highly competent officer, and they worked together well—except for those few occasions when she decided not to take orders. So why had he felt the necessity to call her up just now, second-guessing her? He knew better. A good commander doesn't do that kind of thing.
But Sisko knew why. In her years with the Bajoran resistance movement, Kira had undoubtedly planted her own quota of bombs. There had never been a firm line drawn between resistance and terrorism by the Bajorans fighting the Cardassian occupation. This, on the one hand, made her particularly well qualified to carry on the investigation. Her contacts within the various resistance groups were extensive. But these same connections meant that the terrorist they were looking for might be a former comrade.
When he'd first met her, Sisko might even have suspected Kira of complicity with the bombers, whoever they were—and it was generally agreed that they were most likely Bajorans. After all, what better position could a saboteur hold than the station's first officer, in ultimate charge of security matters?
He remembered quite clearly the very first time he'd encountered Major Kira Nerys, with the station in chaos after the Cardassian departure: torn cables hanging from the walls, consoles smashed in, broken components crushed underfoot. She had stated quite flatly at the time that she didn't believe the Federation had any business on Deep Space Nine. As far as she was concerned, the station was Bajoran territory, Starfleet officers were present only at the provisional government's invitation, and the government had made a mistake in issuing it.
Sisko had asked for her opinion. And had gotten it.
But recent events had made them more sure of one another. Kira had proved herself more than once, had backed him up when he needed it—even against Bajorans.
When the Cardassians had abandoned Bajoran space, they hadn't realized they were giving up access to the limitless wealth promised by the Gamma Quadrant wormhole. This was a mistake they were determined to rectify, and it was only the presence of the Federation Starfleet that prevented them from trying to seize the station outright. Kira knew this, and she had come to regard the Federation presence as a necessity, despite the objections of some more intransigent Bajoran isolationists.
No, Kira wasn't working with the terrorists. But—what if the evidence pointed at former comrades? Members of her own resistance group? Could she turn them in? More important, would her objectivity be able to override her sense of loyalty?
Loyalties. They weren't a simple matter, as Sisko knew. Still troubled, he hit the control for the turbolift to take him up to the docking pylon.
Sisko out.
Major Kira switched off her communicator with an angry slap. What did Sisko think, that she hadn't checked the other pylons? All the airlocks? What kind of incompetent did he think she was?
"Just keep out of my hair and let me do my job,Commander."
The station's security chief looked up. "Did you say something, Major?"
"What? No. Sorry, Odo, just mumbling to myself."
Odo snorted with amusement, then continued with his task of collecting the scattered fragments from the explosion. Kira grimaced wryly. She knew what Odo had heard.
Now she pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes. She was tired. After the explosion, they'd sealed off the area to search through the wreckage, but it was a long, tedious job.
The pylon's whole locking level was a wreck. There were shards and slivers of the airlock driven into the corridor ceiling and walls, scattered across dozens of meters. The station was frankly lucky that there hadn't been a hull breach. And, so far, if there were bomb fragments among the pieces, they hadn't been able to identify them. Possibly the computer could, when it completed its analysis. For now, though, they were searching for any possible clue to the origin of the device, the identity of the person who'd planted it. Whoever it was, she wanted them. She and Odo both. Their motives weren't identical. Odo would have been more than happy to arrest whoever the bomber turned out to be: Cardassian, Bajoran, or even Ferengi. But Odo wasn't Bajoran. He wore a Bajoran uniform, he looked Bajoran—superficially. But Odo could look like anything he pleased. His shape-shifting ability was quite useful in his position of security chief, but he had held that position under the Cardassians, as well. Odo cared passionately about justice, about upholding the law, but his feelings simply couldn't be Bajoran.
Not like Kira's. For her, the reasons were personal. Deep Space Nine was Bajoran territory now. She had put in too much effort, too much blood to let anyone destroy it. Not the Cardassians, and not any Bajoran fanatics, either. Maybe the bomber hadn't been a Bajoran. There was no evidence, no proof. But in her heart, Kira was afraid he was.
In so many ways, it had been easier fighting the Cardassians. Then, you knew who your enemies were. Now the Bajorans were turning on each other, fighting for control of the pitiful remnants of their civilization. Hardly a week went by without some kind of protest, demonstration, or near-riot somewhere on Bajor. Even here on the station. What better way to express your feelings than to set off a bomb or shoot your opponents? There were times when Kira wasn't altogether proud of her own people, times when she was almost ready to admit that they needed the Federation to step in and protect them from themselves.
Almost.
Sitting back on her heels, she glanced out through the viewport. Studded with lights, blazing against the dark background of space, was the high arch of docking pylon three, with the Kovassii ship snugged up to the airlock. Aliens. Trade delegations. Sisko would be up there now, playing his role as station commander, all suited up in his fancy Starfleet dress uniform, sleek and clean and bowing to the Kovassii delegates come to negotiate for access to the wormhole. She resented their presence bitterly, the more so because she knew how necessary it was. Bajor needed the trade to recover from the ruinous Cardassian occupation.
For sixty years, they had raped her world, driven her people into slavery or exile, crushed her civilization under their boots with the sadistic pleasure of their kind. And in all that time, who had protested, who had raised a hand to stop the slaughter, who had cared about one poor, isolated world and its people? But now that the Bajorans had finally driven off their oppressors, now that they were finally free, what happened? The Federation discovered a wormhole to the Gamma Quadrant in Bajoran space. Suddenly Bajor was standing at the gate to unimaginable wealth, and now every planet in known space was sending representatives to try to get in on it.
Quick angry tears stood in her eyes as Kira silently cursed the aliens, all of them. Where were you when we were being slaughtered? Where were you then?
"Major?"
Kira exhaled wearily, raking her fingers back through her dark, short-cropped hair.
"Sorry, Odo. Sometimes …" She turned and looked around at the shattered airlock. "Tell me, do you think there's any real chance of finding any more evidence in all this mess?"
"We can only look. If it's here, we'll find it."
Kira sighed and knelt down next to him, aiming her probe to sweep another section of the floor. So little to go on. So many fragments. Everything obliterated. No identifiable cells for DNA typing, nothing to connect the bomb to its maker. Too many uncertainties. It could have been a timed or a remote-control device, planted any time in the last few months. It could even have been left here by the Cardassians, as a particularly nasty surprise for the station's new owners.
But Kira knew she couldn't afford to make that assumption. If there were terrorists on the station now, they had to be apprehended. Because they would certainly strike again. Kira knew her own people. They weren't the kind to give up after striking a single blow.
Time to stop looking and start thinking. She sat back on her heels again. "This was a political statement, Odo."
"Major?"
"This bomb. Whoever set it, they weren't trying to blow up the station. No one got hurt. They didn't even manage to breach the airlock."
"Are you sure they didn't just slip up? It could have been meant to be an attack on the Kovassii ship. Maybe their timing was off."
"That's possible. But I just don't think so. It's just a feeling I have."
"I prefer to look at the evidence, myself."
"Well, then maybe between the two of us, we'll find something. But look where this bomb was placed. And it wasn't even powerful enough to put a hole in the airlock, let alone the hull of a ship. I mean, I could have done a better job when I was twelve years old!" And had, which she didn't bother to mention. "If that's what I was trying to do."
"So," said Odo, "either we have a particularly incompetent terrorist on the station—"
"Or we have someone who knows exactly what they're doing."
"Making a statement."
"That's what I think, yes."
"Which is?"
"I'm not sure." Kira sighed and rubbed her forehead again. "Maybe it's someone who wants to disrupt the trade negotiations. To keep Bajor out of the Federation."
"That's one theory. But this bomb was placed in the airlock where the Kovassii ship was going to dock. It could have been one of their enemies. Maybe some trade rival trying to frighten them away from exploiting the wormhole. Or a personal enemy of the ambassador. You see a political statement here, Major, because you view the situation in political terms. I tend to view it in criminal terms. That's my perspective."
"It's possible," she admitted. "But if this was an enemy of the Kovassii, how could they have known in advance which docking pylon the ship would be assigned to?" A sudden thought made her frown. "Unless—they planted bombs on all six pylons. To make sure. But we checked, we found nothing." For an instant, she suffered a sharp pang of doubt, remembering Sisko's officious call to check up on her. But was she sure there hadn't been another bomb? What if they'd somehow overlooked it in their search?
"No, you're right," Odo said. "There was nothing."
He paused. "Unless …"
"Unless what?"
"Unless they went back and removed all the other devices, before we searched. Or unless they have an accomplice working in Ops who let them know where the Kovassii ship was scheduled to dock."
Kira shook her head. "Too many theories. Not enough evidence."
"Does it make it simpler if we assume a political motive?"
Kira laughed curtly. "Hardly. You can pin a political motive on half the Bajorans on this station. And they probably all know how to plant a bomb."
"So you do believe it was a Bajoran."
"I hate to believe it. Unfortunately, I know us too well." She paused. "I can barely think of where to begin. With all the different factions here on the station: the isolationists, the religious parties—"
Her reply was interrupted by the beep of her communicator. She heard: "O'Brien to Kira."
"Yes, Chief?"
"Major, I don't want to disrupt your investigation …" Which, of course, is exactly what you're doing, Kira thought sourly. " … but I wonder if you could give me an estimated time you'll be finished up there on pylon two. That airlock is going to have to be rebuilt before we can start to dock ships there again, and we have more delegations scheduled to show up within the next few days. I'd like to start work as soon as possible."
Kira sighed in resignation. O'Brien, as chief of station operations, had his job to do, just as she had hers. "Actually, I think we're just about finished, Chief. You can have your repair crews up here as soon as you like."