“Gi!”

Donovan grabbed Aldo Corsi by the arm to keep the freighter captain from plunging headlong to where Giancarlo had fallen. It would have been a laughable attempt, except that Aldo was forced to stop as a new hell storm of disruptor fire tore through the air around him. Powerless to help his brother, Aldo instead retreated to the protection of the cargo module, sagging to the deck as he buried his head in his hands.

His features clouded with sympathy, Ross regarded the man for several seconds before directing his attention back to the situation at hand.

Ghrovlatrei’s own features were clouded by anguish as she glanced toward Aldo. “I must accept responsibility for all that has happened, Commander.” She held up the pair of disruptor rifles she had captured. “The two Cardassians sent to inspect the lower cargo decks were about to discover our equipment. I felt that I had no choice but to disable them.”

“You had no choice?” Aldo asked, the question laced with anger and pain. “My brother is dead! Your choice killed him. His death is on your hands!”

Ghrovlatrei’s mouth fell open in muted shock at the verbal assault, and Donovan even took a step backward in response to the man’s raw emotion.

“Mr. Corsi,” Ross said while somehow maintaining his own composure, “no one is more upset than I am for the loss of your brother and the other people, but right now we have to think about the rest of your crew. Mogad was going to kill all of us, and if he gets off this ship, he’ll blow us all to hell. Our only chance is to keep him here, at least until we can figure out what to do next.”

Aldo drew several deep breaths in an attempt to bring himself under control. Though the man’s grief and fury were still palpable, Donovan could see that the commander’s words were having an effect on him.

He watched as Aldo turned and regarded the faces of the four other Hope crew members who had survived the firefight. Huddling behind a row of cargo modules stacked two meters high, none of them said anything, the stress of the past few minutes almost certainly still weighing on them. Just like their captain, they too were hurting over the loss of Giancarlo and the others, but Donovan thought he recognized anger and perhaps even determination in their eyes.

Finally, Aldo returned his gaze to Ross. “What do you have in mind?”

By way of reply, Ross looked to Ghrovlatrei. “What’s our status?”

“I was able to use the sensor equipment to jam their communications,” the Efrosian replied. “Ours are affected as well, however. We cannot signal for assistance so long as the jamming field is activated.”

As he absorbed Ghrovlatrei’s report Ross said, “Pass out those disruptors.” To Aldo he asked, “I don’t suppose you’ve got any other weapons in here somewhere?”

“No,” Aldo replied, shaking his head. “We never needed them before today.”

One of the Hope crew members, a human whose name Donovan did not know, stepped forward. “We’ll use clubs if we have to. Those bastards killed our friends, and they’re not getting past us without a fight.” The man’s words invoked a chorus of fierce agreement from the rest of the crew.

Ross looked to Ghrovlatrei and pointed to the tricorder sticking from the top pocket of her coveralls. “Lieutenant, can you tell me where Mogad is?”

Consulting the device, Ghrovlatrei shook her head. “There are three Cardassians scattered throughout this room that are still conscious. One of them is maintaining his position among the cargo containers near the closest of the patrol ships, but the other two are moving, perhaps to join their companion. I cannot determine which one is Mogad.”

From his vantage point, Donovan could see the quartet of patrol ships, their cockpit hatches visible along the top edges of their wedge-shaped hulls. There was no way the Cardassians would be able to approach the ships without being seen.

Small favors, he mused.

With a grunt of frustration, Ross shook his head at the report before looking to Ghrovlatrei again. “Cover this hatch. Make sure none of the Cardassians get past you. Donovan, you come with me.”

Her brow creasing in uncertainty, Ghrovlatrei asked, “What do you have in mind, Commander?”

*   *   *

Ghrovlatrei was right, Donovan chided himself. This assignment was better when it was boring.

Moving in a crouch, Donovan scurried between the stacks of cargo containers, his ears straining to detect any signs of the three Cardassians who were still hiding somewhere in the shuttlebay. For the third time in as many minutes, he swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. He cursed himself for not having the presence of mind to have carried a tricorder of his own. The device would have proven invaluable to him right about now.

Of course, you had no idea Commander Ross was going to suggest something this crazy, did you?

Their time and options fading, Ross had decided on a bold course of action. With Ghrovlatrei and Dillone providing covering fire if needed, the two Starfleet officers had set out in search of Mogad. Donovan was circling along the perimeter of the room to the left of their defensive position near the exit hatch, while Ross searched somewhere among the cargo modules to the right. With no tricorders to scan for the locations of the Cardassians, both humans were forced to rely on their own senses to discern any telltale clues of their enemy’s presence. So far, Donovan had seen and heard nothing to indicate he was not alone here, despite what his pounding heart and rapid breathing told him.

His thoughts were broken as a voice called out across the shuttlebay. “Mogad!” Donovan froze in place, even holding his breath as the voice, Aldo Corsi’s and full of anger, echoed in the room. “Mogad,” he repeated, “we have to talk. We have to put a stop to this before it gets completely out of control.”

What was he doing? Why was he drawing attention to himself? Surely, Mogad or one of his subordinates would try to home in on his voice. He was placing himself and his crew in danger.

“Mogad, we can’t allow this to go any further. Too many people have died or been hurt already, even though you could have prevented it. Are you ready to sacrifice more lives by failing to act?”

Or was he?

Of course.

Donovan smiled to himself, nodding in appreciation for Aldo’s savvy. He was trying to get the Cardassian to speak and reveal his location. After years of dealing with Mogad, the freighter captain probably knew the gul as well as anyone outside his own family. But would he know enough to be able to provoke the Cardassian? It was a simple ploy, attacking Mogad’s ego and pride.

Simple, yet effective.

“Let us not forget that it was you who chose to engage in espionage, Corsi,” Mogad said, his voice crisp as always, though Donovan was more concerned with the fact that it was also close. Very close.

Somewhere to the right, he decided, though the voice was muted somewhat by the cargo containers blocking much of his view of the shuttlebay. He took a tentative step forward, the hairs on the back of his neck standing straight up.

“You have my sympathies for the loss of your brother,” Mogad continued, “but his death could have been avoided if you had been honest with me from the beginning.”

“You bastard! I’ll—”

Donovan heard the words choke off, and his stomach heaved at the Cardassian’s unmitigated gall. That, and the fact that he, along with Ross, was more than likely responsible for the death of Giancarlo Corsi as well as the other Hope crew members.

Assuming they survived, the official reports submitted by the three Starfleet officers at the conclusion of this mission would likely exonerate them from blame with regards to the tragedy that had already unfolded here. Such thoughts did not make it any easier for Donovan to cope with what had happened, however.

You don’t have time for this, he scolded himself. Focus.

Aldo was not talking anymore. Had Mogad’s words wounded him that much? Donovan imagined how the freighter captain must have reacted. Gret had more than likely been forced to restrain the man from yielding to blind rage and storming into the line of fire.

There was movement to his left and he whirled to see a Cardassian, not Mogad, crouched down between two large storage modules. His body and his disruptor were facing away from Donovan, and it was this unfortunate choice that bought the ensign the precious second he needed to fire his own weapon.

Even as the Cardassian succumbed to the stun beam, Donovan heard footsteps behind him. He pivoted toward the sound but he was too slow. Mogad loomed in his vision. Donovan tried to bring his phaser around but Mogad seized his wrist and parried the move, twisting the weapon away from him until it fell from Donovan’s hand. The ensign’s efforts to resist were useless against Mogad’s superior strength and in short order he stood mere centimeters in front of the Cardassian. Then he felt the gul’s massive left hand gripping his throat.

“A Starfleet phaser,” Mogad said, eyeing the fallen weapon. “I knew this ship carried spies.” Sadness seemed to wash over the gul’s expression and he actually shook his head as he added, “Aldo was lying to me after all.”

The Cardassian’s fingers were digging into Donovan’s throat, and he could feel his breathing already becoming labored. Light reflected off something metallic and he saw Mogad’s right arm coming up, the muzzle of the disruptor pistol in the Cardassian’s hand a yawning black maw as it drew closer.

“Hold it right there,” a voice called out, and Donovan shifted his eyes to see Ross emerging from behind a cargo module. The commander pushed forward with incredible speed and agility until he was standing right next to Mogad, pinning the Cardassian’s weapon arm against his own body and pressing his phaser into the gul’s right cheek.

“Let him go,” Ross hissed, menace enveloping each word as it left his mouth.

“Lower your weapon or I’ll kill him,” Mogad replied.

His breath coming in shallow gasps now, Donovan heard more movement behind him and then another voice that made his heart sink. “Drop your weapon, human.”

Ross dropped behind Mogad, using the Cardassian for a shield as he pressed his phaser even harder into the gul’s face. To the other Cardassian he said, “Drop it or your boss dies.” Looking back to Mogad he added, “Make him back off and let my man go.”

Smiling as his fingers dug even deeper into Donovan’s throat, Mogad said, “It appears that we’ve reached an impasse.”

Stars were swimming before Donovan’s eyes and color was beginning to wash out of everything in his vision when another voice joined the fray.

“Wait!”