The Oppressor's Wrong (11 page)

“What is it?” Daniels looked to his right at Barclay.

“Well, it has the same effect as a residual image, yet the sensor logs for that time index and location are reading a variance in holographic subtext.”

Daniels blinked. “Say that again?”

“Well, it's actually not as confusing as it sounds. That anomaly has the same imaging pattern as the DS9 image did a few days ago.”

“Meaning it's residual.”

“Yes,” Barclay said. “But the sensors detect something in that area of space for at least two milliseconds.”

“A cloaked ship?”

“Not unless it's a holographic cloaked ship.”

“So,” Travec said as he looked from Daniels to Barclay, “is there something there or not? Or is it just feedback from the junction's subprocessors? There's bound to be some sort of glitch in the matrix—we
are
technically running this on a hot-wired system.”

Daniels pursed his lips and turned back to the image as it looped. “Do the logs show any other area where that same anomaly shows up?”

Barclay checked. “None.”

“But it happens two seconds before the blast.”

“Yes.”

“I'd run a diagnostic and then do a test sweep of the same area. See if you pick up anything now.” Daniels looked back down at the time indexes in the mainframe logs. Time logs.

“Barclay, do we have copies of the starbase communication logs?”

“Yes, we do. You think there's something on them that might explain this ghost?”

Sage stepped back into the room. “I've walked, sir.” He glanced at Travec. “I apologize for becoming angry, Commander.”

“Back to work,” Travec said, and Daniels was happy the Tellarite left it at that.

“Sage.” Daniels glanced at Travec. “Pull up the star-base communications logs and see if you see anything … odd about them.”

Sage nodded and sat down in the chair Daniels had vacated.

“What is it you hope t'Saiga might find, Lieutenant?” Travec asked as he moved to stand beside Daniels.

Daniels crossed his arms over his chest. “I'm not sure yet. It was just an idea—something Sage said.” He moved to stand in front of the amphitheater, then walked into it, the holo-emitters compensating for his physical presence, making him a part of the image, surrounding him with it.

He narrowed his eyes at the image to the right of the starbase. He stood there, alone in the image of space, watching the small area of stars wink and shift, over and over as the image did a six-frame loop.

“Hey, Pádraig,” Sage said from the console. “Take a look at this.”

Daniels left the amphitheater and came around Sage's left to look at the monitor. “What is this?”

Sage pursed his lips. “I have to say the thing's been butchered.”

Travec neared the console. “Butchered? You mean it's been tampered with?”

“Butchered. Seriously. The internal communications network runs on a rotational dump to several tera-stations on the secondary computer core, then it compresses that data after a year where it can be batch-uploaded and filed into the Federation's main computer database for remote access.”

Daniels turned his head slowly to look at Sage, keeping his expression stoic. “Sage, what is it in our relationship that makes you think I understood a word of that? Me security, you engineer.”

“Makes perfect sense to me,” Travec said.

Sage chuckled, his ears twitching. “Okay, it's like this. All communications in and out, as well as internally, are logged into the secondary computer core. This tracks everything, from passengers, cargo, business
transactions, and the movement of Starfleet personnel. And that information is eventually stored at Starfleet.”

“Precisely,” Travec commented.

“Well, someone's been at this thing in the past three weeks. And I mean taken a sledgehammer to it. It's like they didn't even bother cleaning up after themselves, or even tried to be neat.”

“You have missing logs? Holes?”

“No.” Sage pursed his lips. “I got
empty
logs. Whoever did this knows his way around a communications network, and they simply went into certain logs, erased, and then left the time stamps.”

“Why?”

Barclay spoke up. “Oh, that's easy. Because in a cursory scan to detect a disruption in communications, the computer would think that all the logs were still there.”

“That's sort of devious,” Daniels said, moving to the chair beside Sage. “Who would want certain communication logs deleted?” He tapped a few panels and pulled up the time index. Empty logs appeared in red, while the others were white. “Its only been happening since July first.”

Sage nodded slowly. “When Snowden showed up.”

“What are you insinuating, Fijorian?” Travec said.

“I'm only making an observation, sir,” Sage said, tight-lipped.

“You don't like him, do you?” Barclay said as he put his hands on the back of the console. “Captain Snowden.”

“No,” Sage said, glancing from Daniels to Barclay. “Look, I don't know why. I just get all creeped out when he's around. Like he's watching me or something.”

“Well, you are kinda funny-looking,” Daniels said as he started copying the time log oddity to the dump file Muñiz and Stevens had created on the secondary computer core. He was making copies of everything they found. And making it harder for someone to erase.

He blinked. Now where had that paranoid thought come from?

Barclay handed Daniels a padd. “Here's the components list you asked for. Everything's there. Eight of the eleven pieces of the Dominion puzzle.”

Daniels took the padd, thumbed the bottom to make the image scroll down. “Yeah …”

“You don't look happy.”

“I'm not.” He glanced at Barclay. “Oh don't worry. It's a good job. But it's all too different. Too—” He struggled to find the word. “There's too much of a
variance in percentage. The detected amounts are too different.”

“All the levels of component percentages are within tolerance levels, Mr. Daniels. We are exactly where we should be for a Dominion bomb.”

Daniels stifled another yawn. “But that's the problem—the variance is too different from the first bomb. It's sloppy work. We have the right chemicals—the right components, both mineral and organic—but the formula is jiked up,” he said, borrowing one of Sage's words.

He yawned
again.

Travec puffed up his chest. “Mr. Daniels, you have been neglecting your sleep patterns once again—”

“Only because you keep yanking us all back in here,” Sage said under his breath.

“—therefore I suggest you retire and sleep the required seven hours.”

Sage glanced at Daniels. “You heard the pig. And you're drinking too much coffee—”

“I don't have a choice. I'm supposed to meet Data in art sciences in—” he checked the console's chronometer.
“Vloek!
Now. I gotta go.” He grabbed up the padd Barclay had given him and headed for the door.

Sleep. It's overrated, right?

“… A
bsolutely intolerable,” Snowden said. He peered out at the bridge crew of the
Enterprise
from the viewscreen, his hands balled into fists. Behind him was displayed the Starfleet sigil, not the blue and white symbol of the Federation.

Another of his subtle changes.

Picard sat up straight in his chair. “Captain.” It was still hard for him to address Snowden as as captain. Somehow on this man the title became a mockery, not an honor. “I'm still unsure what your objections are.”

“The use of DNA testing. How many times do I have to request that you stop?”

“Obviously a lot,” Riker muttered to Picard's right.

Picard ignored his first officer, though not caring whether or not Snowden heard him. “The new security measures implemented by Starfleet Security do state it is up to the CO's discretion as to what sort of measures above and beyond the blood screenings are used. I feel the suggestions made by Mr. Daniels were well founded. As you know, I and my crew had a Changeling on board this vessel not long ago. Blood screenings can be faked.”

Snowden's face twisted up into a look of aggravation.
“But I specifically asked you not to waste efforts and staff on the DNA testing.”

Picard glanced at Riker before answering. “Captain, why would you ask us to decrease measures when it's been made obvious we have a shape-shifter among us?”

“I am not asking you to decrease the measures.”
Snowden's expression soured.
“I'm telling you the added efforts at DNA screening are a waste. You said so yourself that the Addison shape-shifter had used vials of the real Addison's blood?how would DNA testing be an advantage?”

Picard opened his mouth to answer, to tell Snowden of Daniels's suggestion that if pirated blood were being used, then an anticoagulant compound could be detected.

But something made him pause. Something at gut
level told him not to divulge this information, because apparently it was something Snowden's own security people hadn't thought of. Instead he smiled and said, “Peace of mind, Captain. And because it was a recommendation by Lieutenant Daniels.”

“Daniels? He's not even a member of your crew. He's part of Commander Travec's team, isn't he? What does Travec think about this? I want the DNA testing ended, Captain.”

That did it. Picard reached down and straightened his uniform jacket as he straightened in his chair. This had gone on long enough.
“Captain
Snowden, the
Enterprise
is under
my
command. The welfare and health of the crew is
my
responsibility. Mr. Daniels's suggestion to protect this crew was approved by me, and I will not cease the DNA testing of any persons entering and exiting the ship to the station.”

Snowden's expression went blank, as if he wasn't sure how to respond.
“Daniels was to be assigned to us upon your arrival, along with Travec and t'Saiga. I suggest those three take up their posts here. I'll arrange to have their things transferred.”

Picard caught Riker bristling in his peripheral vision. He too felt the immediate urge to disobey the captain, especially on such a ridiculous request. But there was something else niggling at him, a feeling of danger. He'd been reading Daniels's and t'Saiga's findings
about the explosion, and had taken under advisement the security guard's suspicion at the lack of hard evidence of a Dominion involvement.

Not to mention the runaround he was getting at Starfleet Command after he requested a communication with Captain Sisko. That had put both him and Riker on a higher alert.

Sisko was the only one he truly trusted right now—at least on Earth. And now he was as unavailable as the Federation President.

“I think it would be in our best interests if he and his team remained on the
Enterprise.
Their equipment is integrated with our own.” He glanced at Riker, arching his eyebrows for any input.

Riker nodded to Snowden. “I think Admiral Leyton would want that, Captain.”

“And while we're talking about security,” Picard said as he stood, straightened his jacket, and took a step forward. “I would like a status update on when Travec's team and my security and engineering people can investigate the blast site. Without retrieving samples to look for a key—”

“The site will be made available to you tomorrow,”
Snowden said abruptly.
“Snowden out.”

Picard frowned at the blank viewscreen for a few seconds before he turned. “Number One, Data, with me.” He moved into his ready room.

Once inside, the two officers stood in front of his desk as Picard moved behind it to his chair. “I don't like this. I don't like any of this.”

Riker nodded. “I don't like Snowden.”

“Neither do I,” Data said and gave a half smile. “Unfortunately, he has become our only contact with Starfleet.”

“Yes,” Picard said as he picked up a padd from his desk and glanced at it. “Five messages to Leyton, all of them unanswered.” He set it back down. “Have either of you noticed anything unusual since we've been here?”

“Besides the fact that we have had only the single attack and nothing more in nearly two weeks?” Data said. “I have noticed there has been no Dominion invasion as well.”

“And I don't think there will be.” Picard moved his chair out. “Number One, get Travec's team ready for tomorrow, and tell Geordi to get his best team. I plan on going over that blast site with a fine tooth comb.” He looked directly at Data and Riker. “No one else seems interested in how Admiral Hahn died—not even Leyton—but I'll be damned if I discover his death was meaningless and do nothing about it.”

*   *   *

Daniels stood in the blast center of the bomb on deck
twenty-seven—nearly two weeks after it was detonated. The smell of singed ozone was still strong, as well as the same unidentifiable pungent odor he'd noticed in Antwerp. Evidence the Dominion had been at work here.

Travec, Sage, and Porter had coordinated with La Forge in gathering data, checking structural integrity, comparing previous engineering records with current ones.

Data worked with several of the starbase security staff, along with Huff and Lynch. They were busy using scanners to record the interior of the deck, so that later Daniels and Sage could use the data in the amphitheater to re-create type, velocity, expansion, and angle. From there he'd be able to pinpoint everything to within a micron.

But it was here, inside the center, where Daniels felt he did his best work. Armed with a tricorder and a pair of tweezers, he knelt over a deep gouge in the flooring. The area around it was scorched and mostly melted.