Chapter Seven

"Blasted Rom," O'Brien said, bypassing another circuit in the machinery. He was shoulder deep in the guts of lower pylon three, trying to figure out why the docking clamps refused to work. He'd thought he'd had it figure out, but then Rom went missing, and that damned Vulcan shuttle had arrived, and now it looked like there was a problem brewing in the reactor core. And of course Sisko would want everything squared away within the day. O'Brien muttered under his breath. Without Rom's help, everything was bound to take twice as long.

A scuffle issued from the conduit behind him. O'Brien turned, banging his head on the side of the wall as he did. "Rom," he called, listening to see if the sound would repeat itself. "Rom, is that you?"

A second scuffle followed the first. O'Brien whipped his head around, almost cracking it against the duraplast again. This one had come from behind him, from somewhere inside the housing that held the docking clamps for lower pylon three. O'Brien peered inside, the glow from the wall circuitry turning the skin on his face a ghostly blue. "What the hell?" he said, staring into the bowels of the machine. Then something flew out of the conduit at him, something tan and large and very, very bony, something that affixed itself to O'Brien's face, and everything suddenly went dark.

-----

They were halfway down the corridor that led to the lift that would take them to the reactor core when they heard the scream.

Ensign Landrew froze, gripping the phaser rifle hard against his chest. His eyes scanned the darkened corridor ahead, his Adam's apple bobbing visible inside his slender throat.

"Are you all right, Ensign?" Odo asked from behind him.

"Yes, sir," Landrew said, shaking his head. He tightened his grip on the rifle and took a step forward. "I'll be fine, sir."

"We need to keep moving," Worf said. "There is no reason to stand around waiting for something to come."

"Let's move, people," Sisko said, ushering them forward. "Worf's right. We need to find out what's going on with this station, and we need to do it fast."

The four of them continued down the corridor. Landrew took point, sweeping the corridor from left to right as he maneuvered. Sisko gripped his own phaser in front of him; Worf, on the left side of the Captain, did the same.

Up ahead, the corridor ended in a cross-section. In front of them was the lift that would take them down to the core section. Maintenance tunnels ran off to the left and right, leading to consoles that monitored everything on the station, from the EPS grid to the gravitational units. The group stopped at the center, peering into the darkness around them.

Sisko turned to his Klingon officer. Worf stood motionless in the corridor. He looked like he was trying to pierce the darkness with just a gaze. Sisko moved next to him, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"What's wrong?" he asked, sidling up next to the large Klingon. Work cocked his head, and then turned to Sisko.

"There is something here," he said, his voice as low as a Klingon's could get. "Something...waiting."

Landrew moved closer to the turbolift, swinging the barrel of his rifle around in a semi-arc. He pressed the button for the lift and stepped back as the door whooshed open. He stuck his head a quarter of the way into the lift, gazing through the gloom into the oppressive emptiness beyond.

"Everything's clear here, Captain," he said, turning around to face the others. Landrew took one step forward and then suddenly he was hoisted into the air, jet-black, razor tipped spear jetting through the center of his chest. The phaser rifle clattered from his spastic fingers, ringing off the metal flooring along the corridor.

"Ensign!" Sisko yelled, bringing his own phaser to pistol, but there didn't seem to be anything to aim for. A gout of blood spurted from Landrews' lips, a deep crimson that matched the color of his uniform, and suddenly he was torn in half, his torso and legs flying apart at different angles along the corridor. A hissing shriek filled the confines of the turbolift as a creature dropped down from the top of the shaft.

It was the vilest thing Sisko had ever seen. It was roughly two meters tall, bony extrusions covering most of its midnight black body. Its arms were long, almost human-like, and its hind legs were lean and muscled, thick, corded tendons designed to hold up the creature's massive bulk. Its tail flickered back and forth behind it, cutting through the air like a medieval spear, but the strangest thing about the creature, by far, was its head. It was long, curved, almost bullet-shaped. It had no discernible eyes or ears or nose that Sisko could see, but its mouth more than made up for these anatomical deficiencies. The entire front of its head was pulled back in a hideous, satanic grin, its lips revealing rows of dripping, silver teeth.

"Fire!" Sisko yelled, raising his phaser and aiming at the Alien. The creature howled as the red beam of energy took it square in the chest. It stepped back a few paces, shook its head a few timesand then sprung, its deadly body flying through the air like a javelin, completely unaffected by the blast it just took. It let out another scream, its body a twirling mass of limbs and flailing tail, and then it landed on Odo, its claws digging into the soft matter of his body.

"Constable!" Sisko shouted, watching the changeling struggle with the Alien. Odo's hands were wrapped around the creatures' throat, trying to keep its slavering jaws at bay. The Aliens' head dodged left and right, snapping its jaws at Odo's face, its saliva dripping off its lower jaw in threads. Odo reached out and grabbed the creature with his right hand, the fingers on that hand morphing around the creature's head like a vise, trying to force its neck back. The Alien howled in protest, trying to force its jaws open, and then suddenly a second, smaller mouth protruded from between the jaws of the first and shot through the soft matter of Odo's head.

Odo's head melted around the stalk of the second mouth, shifting its mass and reforming right above his left shoulder. The Alien seemed momentarily stunned by this abrupt turn of events, almost as if it were unsure what to do, and then suddenly screamed out in pain as something grabbed it by its shoulder spikes and slammed it against the sidewall of the turbolift.

"Let's go," Worf said, pushing the Constable and Sisko back down the corridor. He turned, watched as the Alien struggled back to its feet, and hit the comm badge pinned to the front of his uniform. "Computer, erect a Level Ten force field at the junction of Corridor B-2 and A-21." A shimmering beam of light sprung up around the entrance to the corridor behind them, just in time to repel the Alien as it slammed headfirst into the barrier.

"That won't hold it for long," Odo said. His head had resumed its normal place on his body, and the three of them back pedaled down the corridor, watching the Alien thrash and wail against the force field.

"So that must be what came out of the Vulcan," Sisko said. He turned and looked at Worf. "Is it possible there are more of them on the station?"

"It is possible," Worf said, nodding his head. "We will need to determine how many if we are to launch a strategic offensive."

Odo snorted. "Good luck. Did you see that thing? A phaser beam didn't even slow it down."

"Computer," Sisko said, activating his comm badge. "Access the file Bashir One. Download it into the transporter buffer, and lock onto the signature on the reactor level."

"Unable to comply. Magnetic interference from reactor core preventing transporter lock."

Sisko grunted. If they couldn't beam this thing off the station, they'd have to find some other way to eliminate it. And that made their job twice as hard.

"We need to get back to Ops," Odo said. He turned and the others followed. "I'll have my men search the station-"

A screech echoed from the left side of the corridor, followed by the explosion of one of the wall panels. Odo turned just in time to see another one of those hideous Aliens come flying out of the newly formed hole in the corridor wall and then it was on him, its tail lashing, giant jaws snapping at Odo' face.

"Constable!" Worf shouted. He didn't think about what he was going to do next; he just acted. He sprung forward, drawing his mekleth out from its place in the back of his uniform, and with one clean stroke, brought it cleanly through the middle of the creatures' head.

A bout of grayish-green blood burst forth from the severed stump. Some of it landed on Worf's mekleth, warping the once polished Klingon blade into a mass of melted steel; the rest of it sprayed in a widespread mosaic against the wall of the corridor. And Odo.

The shape shifter screamed, his face and shoulders already becoming a bubbling mass of matter. Odo raised his hands to his face, but not before Sisko saw it morph, changing from one random shape to another. Almost as if his metamorphosis was out of control.

"Odo!" Sisko said, racing over to the changeling. He reached over and grabbed Worf by the shoulder. "We need to get him to the infirmary, now!" Worf hoisted Odo over his shoulder, and together they raced down the corridor towards the closet turbolift they could find.