“Progress?” Sonya barked.

Kieran was concerned about her. Sonnie could be all business when she wanted to be, when it was important. But she’d been a little snappish since they’d arrived here. It was more than taking the job seriously—he respected that. But this seemed more like an unhealthy degree of tension revealing itself through her tone, well beyond anything demanded by professionalism.

He didn’t like it—but he also knew that to ask her about it now, while she was exhibiting the behavior, would be asking to have his head bitten off. With Sonnie, you just had to know when to push and when to back off. In getting to know her as well as he did—getting romantically involved with her again—he had learned that lesson the hard way, more than once.

“Most of this equipment is so old,” Pattie’s voice came back. “I’m making progress, I think, but I still need some time.” The bug-like Nasat had rolled herself into a ball and gone underneath one of the remaining consoles, where she was working on restoring the atmosphere on the station. Kieran didn’t want to take the suit off until the gyrostabilizers were restored as well—it provided some cushioning for the inevitable falling objects and people—but he looked forward to being able to take it off and breathe normally again. The suit felt a bit claustrophobic after a while, and it had already been a while.

Soloman took a moment longer to reply, but the Bynar had been engaged in a verbal dialogue with the computer that controlled the stabilizers. “There has been intentional sabotage,” he said. “Of a crude, but effective, nature.”

“Sabotage?” Sonnie echoed. “How crude?”

“A hammer, apparently,” Soloman answered. “Thrust through some primary processing units and wiggled around. Simple, but very efficient.”

“Surely the broken units can be bypassed,” Sonya offered.

“That is what I’m attempting to do.”

“Sorry,” Sonnie said. “Go back to it.”

Kieran was getting his hands dirty himself—figuratively speaking, since he hadn’t been able to remove his gloves yet. He was on his back underneath yet another bank of computers that controlled the defensive systems. Unlike the others, he was trying to circumvent the computers, not repair them. These had somehow missed the original sabotage and avoided getting crushed by falling debris. But the control panels had been destroyed, so he needed to work them from the inside. He wanted to do the job without resorting to the old stick-a-hammer-through-and-wiggle-it-around technique. Though, if he didn’t make progress soon, he would get around to that. Pattie was right; the stuff was so old it didn’t seem to operate on any principles familiar to him. He had once had a friend who had collected personal computing devices—the very earliest ones of the late twentieth century. The technology he found himself faced with here reminded him of the guts of some of those very primitive devices he’d seen in his friend’s collection. He wished he had dug around more in those early boxes.

Suddenly, though, he felt the station—which was beginning to tilt to his left—stop and turn back the other way. A moment later, it flattened out and remained in one position.

“I believe I have rerouted the signal successfully,” Soloman announced. “Gyrostabilizers are functioning properly.”

“Thank you, Soloman,” Kieran breathed. “I am never going on another amusement park ride.”

Pattie Blue made a tinkly noise that corresponded to a chuckle. “This from the man who was flying all over Maeglin in his gravity boots. In any case, atmospheric conditions have been normalized. Breathable air and climate controls are on the way. Environmental suits should remain in service for two point seven minutes.”

Oh, the hell with it, Kieran thought. He, like every S.C.E. engineer, knew about Montgomery Scott’s oft-repeated mantra—usually delivered in a full-throated scream. “Use the right tool for the job!” Kieran didn’t have a hammer handy, but he had a manual door-opener in a pocket of his environmental suit. He pulled it out, jammed it into the works, and wiggled it around.

“Shields are down, Captain,” Ina Mar said.

Captain Gold whirled to face the flame-haired Bajoran operations officer. “Scan the station, tell me what you see. Da Vinci to Gomez.”

“Go ahead, Captain.”

“Everything okay over there, Commander?”

“So far, sir,” her voice came back. “We’ve restored equilibrium, ceased orbital degradation, restored the atmosphere, and shut down the defensive systems. So we’ll be able to beam the injured over to the da Vinci. Assuming, of course, that we find any,” she added, sounding annoyed. “So far the station seems to be deserted.”

“Ina, are there lifesigns aboard that station?” he asked. Ina nodded and pointed to a display screen.

“Yes, Captain. See?”

Gold swallowed. “Gomez, has the away team divided into two units?”

“Yes, sir,” Sonya replied. “Corsi, Lense, Frnats, Drew, and Stevens went off to see if they could locate the crew. They’ve been unsuccessful, and are returning to our position now.”

“Yes, I see that,” Gold said. “I don’t know about crew, but they’re about to meet somebody. Several hundred somebodies, in fact.”

“The prisoners, sir?” Sonya asked.

“That would be my guess. They’re on an intercept course. Do you copy that, Corsi? You are about to encounter several hundred convicted criminals. They are to be considered armed and extremely dangerous.”

Corsi replied, “I hear you, sir. But if we’ve restored the necessary systems and prevented the station from dropping out of orbit, aren’t we finished? Can’t we all just be beamed back to the ship?”

“No,” Dr. Lense’s voice broke in. “There are most certainly large numbers of injuries on this station. We went through the infirmary, and it was deserted. Whether we treat the injuries here or there doesn’t matter, but we need to provide medical assistance.”

“To a bunch of murderers and thieves?” Corsi asked. “They’re criminals, we’re not allowing them aboard the da Vinci.”

“They’re sentient beings,” Lense countered. “They’re entitled to treatment.”

“Not everyone on the Plat is a prisoner, Corsi,” Gold said tersely. “Kindly keep that in mind.”

“Yes, sir,” Corsi said quickly.

“I’ll relay the news to the Kursican authorities and ask for medical personnel from there,” Gold said. “Though it’ll probably take them a while to get to the station. In the meantime, be very careful with those prisoners. And if it looks like things are turning ugly, let us know and we’ll beam you out immediately.”

“Yes, sir,” Corsi said.

Gold turned back to Ina. “Keep a close eye on them.”