Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: Young Adult Books #9: Cardassian Imps Read online

“You’re not a kid anymore,” Nog reminded him.

  “I don’t care about Garak’s childhood,” Jake said. “The question is, what are we going to do about these Nimijks now?”

  “Do?” Garak asked. “Do? Have you tried turning the original Nimijk off?”

  “Turning it off?” Jake and Nog asked together with surprise.

  “Of course. It’s just a toy.” A tearing noise in his store caused Garak to briefly grit his teeth. “Where did you say you found it?”

  “We told you,” Nog said. “In a store down on level forty-five.”

  “Exactly which store?”

  “Are you sure you don’t know?” Nog asked accusingly.

  “Of course not. You’ll have to show me if you want me to help.”

  “We’ll show you,” Jake said.

  “I’m ready, then,” Garak said. He allowed the pants to slip from his arm, and stepped over the heap they made on the floor.

  The two boys left the shop with Garak. As they walked along the Promenade among the Nimijks playing in the wreckage of booths, decorations, food, and furniture, Jake thought how strange it was that the survival of Deep Space Nine had come to depend on this—the actions of two kids and a Cardassian.

  Sisko sat behind his desk, turning his baseball in one hand while he listened to Odo’s voice coming over the speaker. “I’m sorry to report it, Commander,” Odo said, “but things are getting out of hand down here.”

  Behind Odo, Sisko could hear the sound of a frightened crowd, things breaking, and security people calling out for calm.

  “Any sign of Jake?”

  “I saw him on the Promenade—without his commbadge. My guess is one of these creatures took it. In any case, he and Nog both seemed to be fine. I wouldn’t worry, Commander. Our little friends seem more interested in property damage than in actually hurting anyone.”

  “Property damage may be enough,” Sisko said, thinking of the plugged up power conduits. He wondered if there was a connection between them and these creatures.

  “I suggest you seal off Ops,” Odo said. “If these creatures get control of station systems, there’s no telling what sort of harm they can cause.”

  “Understood, Constable. Keep in touch. Sisko out.”

  Sisko walked out of his office and stood at the top of the stairs. “Major Kira?”

  Kira looked up from the situation table. “Commander?”

  “Isolate Ops from the rest of the station. I don’t want those creatures in here.”

  “Aye, sir,” Kira said as she began to make adjustments. “And, sir?”

  “Yes?”

  “Power is down another fourteen percent.”

  “Thank you for the update,” Sisko said, trying to keep sarcasm from his voice. He looked across to the science station. “Anything new?” he asked.

  “Actually, yes,” Dax said. “I was able to match a picture of one of the creatures with information in the station’s original Cardassian data base.”

  “Those things are Cardassian?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” Dax explained. “Each of those creatures is in the form of a Nimijk, a mythical creature that is the symbol of abundance in Cardassian folklore.”

  “All right, then,” Sisko said. He felt they were getting somewhere at last. Knowing that his troubles were Cardassian in origin, and did not come from somewhere or something totally alien, gave him a certain comfort. He’d dealt with Cardassians before. He touched his insignia communicator. “Odo?”

  A second later, they heard Odo’s voice with a lot of crowd noise in the background. “Odo here, Commander.”

  “See if you can round up Garak and bring him to Ops.”

  “Garak?” Odo asked, as if he feared that Sisko had lost his mind.

  “It’s a long story,” Sisko said. “Find him as soon as you can. Make it a priority.”

  “Very well, sir,” Odo said, still sounding a little uncertain. “Odo out.”

  “You think Garak can help us with the Nimijks?” Kira asked.

  “They’re Cardassian,” Sisko said. “He’s Cardassian. I think it’s worth a shot.”

  “Absolutely,” Dax said.

  Sisko turned to her. “I understand symbols of abundance,” he said. “On Earth, the cornucopia fills a similar function. What I don’t understand is why a mythical Cardassian creature is destroying my station!”

  “Commander?” O’Brien said. He had a worried expression on his face.

  “What is it, Chief?” Sisko asked.

  “I’ve been through those tricorder recordings a dozen times.” He shook his head.

  Dax stared at O’Brien with interest.

  “And you found?” Kira said impatiently.

  “I found that the Trulgovians’ ship is an old D-style freighter—a discount model the Ferengi sell under the name Greased Lightning.”

  “I’ve heard stories about D-style freighters,” Sisko said, almost smiling. “I understand their failure rate is astonishing.”

  “Not so astonishing, really,” O’Brien said. “Even the Cardassian junk built into this station is better than anything the Trulgovians have. That’s why none of this makes sense.”

  “None of what?” Sisko demanded.

  “None of the tricorder readings,” O’Brien said, gesturing widely. “I checked Trulgovian life support, their filters, their hyperscrubbers, every cleaning and filtering system on the ship. They are having no trouble at all with the Keithorpheum.”

  “How are they processing it, Chief?” Dax said.

  “The same way they’d process any other impurity in the air,” O’Brien said. “That’s the hell of it. According to the tricorder readings, their equipment is old, ill-cared for—it was none too good when it was new. It isn’t capable of doing anything fancy with the Keithorpheum.”

  “It must be doing something unusual, Chief,” Sisko said.

  O’Brien shook his head. “I thought so too. But as far as the Trulgovians are concerned, Dax is right. Keithorpheum is harmless and inert.”

  Dax and Kira stared at O’Brien. Sisko paced up and back at the top of the stairs. Unexpectedly, a new approach came clear to him. “If what you say is true, Chief then I suggest we are looking in the wrong place. If the Trulgovians can deal with the Keithorpheum and we can’t even though we have better equipment, maybe we’re dealing with a different kind of Keithorpheum.”

  “But the Trulgovians brought the stuff onto the station,” Kira said. “It must be the same Keithorpheum they have on their ship.”

  “Maybe being on the station changed it somehow,” O’Brien suggested.

  “I’ll see what I can find out,” Dax said as she began punching codes into her control board.

  “Oh, and Dax?” Commander Sisko said, “Check for a connection between these Nimijks and our power problems.”

  Dax, O’Brien, and Kira looked up at him with surprise, but none of them had a chance to speak before a crowd of small creatures rose quickly out of the shaft through which the lift from the Promenade normally ran.

  “Nimijks,” Dax cried.

  “Don’t let them—” Sisko began before he saw that giving such an order was pointless.

  The Nimijks quickly spread around the room and leaped onto the situation table. They danced on the science station and on the engineering station, chattering all the while. Lights flashed, gravity fluctuated, and many computer voices spoke at once. Strange chemical smells filled the air. Sisko felt uncomfortably warm.

  Disgusted by the chaos he was witnessing, Sisko waded into the thick of the Nimijks and began flinging them off his equipment. Dax, Kira, and O’Brien joined him, but though they labored long and hard, the Nimijks always laughed and came back for more. Sisko saw that he could not hurt them even if he wanted to.

  CHAPTER 8

  Nimijks were everywhere, throwing and catching random bits torn from the station. In Quark’s place they were juggling bottles, much to Quark’s dismay. Fragile red bottles, squat green bottles, and
jewel-cut orange bottles flew through the air, narrowly avoiding destruction.

  “Grab those bottles,” Quark called out when he saw Jake, Nog, and Garak, though he himself stood by, not able to do anything but wring his hands.

  Jake stepped forward, looking for a way to help, but the Nimijks were too quick for him. Before he’d taken three steps, they allowed all the bottles to smash against the floor. Red liquid, green liquid, and orange liquid splashed and spread. Quark cried out in anguish.

  “Excuse us, Uncle Quark,” Nog said. “We have to go save the station.”

  “Go ahead,” Quark said as he sank onto a stool. “Desert me in my hour of need.”

  Farther along the Promenade, in front of Waverly’s Wonderful World of Duotronics, Jake, Nog, and Garak stopped and gaped. Jake was not only surprised, but a little charmed by what he saw.

  “What are they doing?” Garak asked.

  “Playing baseball,” Nog said, sounding shocked.

  Nog was right. Standing in the open space were two teams of nine Nimijks each. The Nimijks were using a quat—a soft purple fruit—as a ball, and a Lawgiver staff from Beta III as a bat. Jake was horrified by their use of the staff. He had once priced Betan staffs, hoping to give one to his dad as a gift, and he knew how expensive they were.

  The Nimijk pitcher wound up and fired the quat at the Nimijk batter, who hit it squarely with the staff, splattering the bright blue pulp all over. All the Nimijks cheered idiotically.

  Suddenly, Jake felt guilty. This whole sorry business had started because he and Nog had wanted to play baseball. At the moment baseball didn’t seem very important, yet here the Nimijks were, playing it with a fruit and a precious archeological treasure while their friends destroyed Deep Space Nine.

  “What’s the matter, my boy?” Garak asked.

  “Nothing,” Jake said, wondering again if Garak was even remotely responsible for what was going on.

  The turbolifts were still not running, so to return to level forty-five, they had to descend through the maintenance tubes.

  “I’m a little old for this sort of thing,” Garak said as he eyed the first maintenance duct. “Are you sure this is the only way to get down there?”

  “I’m sure,” Jake said.

  Garak nodded, and gamely, if awkwardly, clambered into the hatchway. He was considerably larger than either Jake or Nog, so it was a tight fit.

  At the end of the duct, they entered the vertical shaft and began to descend.

  “Light gravity,” Garak commented.

  “Yeah,” Jake said. “Better yet, no Nimijks are after us.”

  “Not at the moment,” Nog said as he looked up.

  The shaft above them was empty. As was the shaft below. Apparently, now that the Nimijks had the entire station to play with they had no further interest in Nog and Jake.

  The strength of the gravity changed a few times as they descended, once becoming so strong that it seemed to pull their fingers away from the rungs. They needed all their strength to hang on and not plummet to the bottom of the shaft. But through most of the trip the gravity was mild. The temperature changed a few times, first causing Jake to sweat, then causing the sweat to freeze on his body.

  “What’s that?” Nog asked as he sniffed.

  Jake and Garak did the same.

  “The air smells rather unpleasant,” Garak admitted.

  “It’s awful,” Jake insisted as he made a face. “It’s been getting worse for a while. I hope we can breathe down on level forty-five.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Garak said.

  “How do you know?” Nog asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know, of course. I’m just trying to maintain a positive outlook.”

  The air quality got worse, and soon they were all breathing hard.

  “I feel as if I’m trying to breathe through a sack,” Jake said.

  “A sack full of Bajoran dungworms,” Nog said.

  “That’s disgusting,” Garak said. “Though I admit,” he said after a moment, “that your description is accurate.”

  They soon came to the duct that would take them out to level forty-five, and crawled along it, breathing hoarsely. When they came to the end Jake and Nog had no trouble jumping out onto the floor, but Garak needed the help of both of them to make it.

  A delegation of three-eyed creatures was waiting patiently for them. “Why, what a nice surprise,” Garak said when he saw them.

  “What are they?” Jake asked.

  “Mitz,” Garak said. “Cardassian house pets. Some always run away. Some are abandoned.” He shook his head. “These must be strays that were left behind when the mining interests left the station.”

  “We can catch them and sell them,” Nog suggested eagerly.

  “Not these,” Garak said. “These are wild.”

  “Isn’t there anything we can do for them?” Jake asked.

  “They seem to be just fine,” Garak said. “Where is this store you dragged me down here to see?”

  Jake watched the mitz for a moment, wondering if he should come back down here when the station was back under control, and feed them. They were certainly cute, considering that they were Cardassian.

  “This way,” he said at last, and led Garak and Nog down the corridor to the place where they’d found the Nimijk.

  Gravity on level forty-five was still light. The air was too cool to be comfortable, and smelled worse than ever. The recirculators ground along, sounding as if they were full of sand. If anything, the corridor seemed dirtier and even more abandoned than it had before. Creatures Jake hoped were only mitz skittered around just out of sight. The light panels that still worked were dim, or flickered—making the movements of the human, the Ferengi, and the Cardassian appear jerky, and giving the whole endeavor a nervous, jumpy feeling.

  As they neared the intersection of their corridor and another, a crowd of Nimijks rushed around the corner at them. The Nimijks commented enthusiastically while they danced around them and poked at them and pulled at their clothing.

  “What are they saying?” Jake asked desperately.

  “I have no idea,” Garak said.

  “Aren’t they speaking Cardassian?”

  “Not quite,” Garak said as he cocked an ear to listen better. “The Nimijks would understand Cardassian, of course, but among themselves they speak sort of a programming language.”

  “How’d they know we were coming?” Nog asked as he cringed away from them.

  “Maybe they didn’t,” Garak said. He pushed at the Nimijks a little roughly, but they always came back. “The station is full of Nimijks. I don’t find it hard to believe that some would be down here. Do you?”

  “I guess not,” Jake said, still uncertain about Garak’s motives. “Stop that!” he cried as one of the Nimijks reached up to pull his hair.

  “Let’s do what we came for and get out of here,” Nog said.

  Jake nodded and continued down the corridor. The Nimijks spread out behind them and followed, still talking among themselves in their programming language. They were nearly at the store where he and Nog had found the Nimijk doll when the Nimijks became quiet and watchful. They were obviously waiting for something. Jake felt fear building inside him. Then something walked out of the shadows.

  “It’s him,” Nog said. “The Moop leader.”

  “How can you tell?” Garak asked.

  “It has feelers and a tail,” Jake said. “The others don’t.”

  “Besides,” Nog said, “it’s carrying the original Moop doll.”

  The Moop leader waved its feelers, barked a command, and the Nimijks attacked. Their prodding seemed more assertive now; they climbed the three, pulling hair and ears, and poking cheeks. Jake fought them, but it was like fighting a swarm of bugs. No sooner had he brushed a pair of hands away than more hands took their place. Nog started his keen of distress. More and more Nimijks jumped onto Jake’s body, and soon their weight forced him to the floor, burying him under what seemed to
be hundreds of the creatures.

  Garak cried out a single Cardassian word, and a moment later, all the Nimijks were gone—they just disappeared as if someone had switched off a holosuite program. Nog continued keening.

  “Nog,” Jake cried as he stood up. “Nog, stop that. We’re safe.”

  “What?” Nog asked as he opened his eyes.

  “The Nimijks are gone,” Jake said. He picked up the original Nimijk figure from the level, but was careful not to touch any of the pictures on the screen. “The air recirculators sound as if they’re moving faster.”

  “And the lights are brighter too,” Nog said.

  “May I see that?” Garak asked and held out his hands for the figure.

  “After a while, maybe,” Jake said. “First, we have a few questions.”

  “Yeah,” Nog said. “A few questions.”

  Sisko was on the main floor of Ops, helping where he could. At the moment, he was attempting to keep Nimijks off of Major Kira’s situation table so they could get an accurate sense of what was going on in the rest of the station. He lifted Nimijks to the floor and swept them aside, but his efforts went for nothing. More of them always came back.

  He tried locking them in his office. This was initially successful because the Nimijks were fascinated by his baseball. But a few escaped every time he opened the door—often more than he had captured. The room had not been designed as a brig.

  The Nimijks were a nuisance-always touching things, including Sisko and his staff—but they did not seem eager to do any permanent damage. He’d given up trying to get his baseball back. They weren’t hurting it anyway—just lobbing it around his office.

  Sisko still believed there was a connection between the Nimijks and the problem with the Keithorpheum, but so far no one had been able to find it. Part of the puzzle was still missing.

  So was Jake, for that matter. No one had seen him since his brief encounter with Odo. Garak seemed to be missing, too. Quark and Rom had been up to complain that Nog was also missing. Jake and Nog had become inseparable, but they did not usually hang around with Garak. Sisko wondered if all three were together. Though DS9 was his first concern. Sisko could not help worrying about his son.