INTERLUDE ONE
“Hurt people hurt people.” – Thematic Principle of Alcoholics Anonymous
BSNV EMISSARY,
Sito Jaxa silently
wagered on her commanding officer’s response to the data…
…and then hoped her all-too-educated guess would prove wrong.
“According to the telemetry provided by our marker buoys, the ship
is still flirting with Bajoran space.”
She’d chosen her words with care—for all the good it did.
Colonel Marek Tathon
exhaled audibly, and enunciated each word of his response.
“Have they crossed the border?”
On four different occasions, from what I see here, thought Sito. But it’s clearly just an
attempt to antagonize—like something a sullen and defiant little boy would do,
just to prove he could.
She tried to convey that within the bounds of protocol … and
without antagonizing her captain any further.
“Yes, sir, but the occurrences are little more than harmless dips
followed by immediate withdrawals.”
Marek barely waited for her to finish
offering that opinion before issuing his orders.
“Battle stations. Calculate and execute interception vector,
pilot. Go to warp seven.”
Emissary’s bridge crew
leaped to obey with the kind of wolfish enthusiasm one could only feel after
having for years fought a hopeless battle, and then suddenly gaining the upper
hand. Jaman, their helmsman, brought them about … and
the inertial dampeners barely compensated.
No one seemed to notice—no one, that is, but Sito.
This time, she remained silent, anticipating his next command and
touching a series of controls on her console. At once, the image of a Hideki-class interceptor appeared on
their main viewer. Already the vessel had responded to Emissary’s course alteration with one of its own; and the smaller
ship, in a matter of seconds, had slipped back over the border into Cardassian
space.
The order they all now anticipated, though—to break off pursuit
and resume standard patrol pattern—was not immediately forthcoming. Instead, Marek stood, then strode to stand
behind Sito. When at last he spoke, there could be
little doubt he meant for everyone
present to hear.
“No violation of Bajoran space is ‘harmless,’ Captain Sito,”
he growled. “If we fail to respond when they violate our frontiers, they’ll
become incrementally more aggressive. These are Cardassians, and it seems they need a reminder that they lost the last war.
“Increase to warp nine. Hail them.”
Their intelligence officer, one Major Delon
Vanar, promptly confirmed, “Channel open.” His
attention seemed divided into thirds—one portion each for his station, his
captain … and Sito herself.
She wasn’t in the mood to defer, however, and they locked glares
even as Marek spoke.
“Cardassian vessel, this is the Bajoran
flagship Emissary. Our scans indicate
that you’ve entered our space on numerous occasions in the past few hours. As
per those applicable terms of the Federation/Dominion Treaty, you are ordered
to cut your engines, heave to and prepare for boarding.”
Sito turned, slack-jawed, to stare at her
captain … but before he noticed, her board sounded, and she analyzed the latest
information before breaking the news.
“Long-range sensors indicate another three ships moving towards
us—a second Hideki … and two Cardassian cruisers, Galor-class, Type
D. Estimate they’ll intercept us in four minutes.”
“We’ll cross the border in 30 seconds,” said Jaman,
“and overtake our target in 50.”
Something in his tone had changed, though—as had the atmosphere on
the bridge. Sito had never really been a cynic, but
noted now with a disdain surprising in its vehemence that, suddenly, no one
seemed quite as eager to make an example of the border snipe.
The next few minutes would depend entirely on the next few
seconds.
Again, Sito made a bet with herself…
“Hold your course.”
…and, again, she was right.