Star Trek by Dayton Ward, Kevin Dilmore

don’t see how. If Donovan and Ghrovlatrei are right, those are short-range Cardassian patrol ships. They don’t have the kind of equipment to detect our gear operating in minimal power mode.”
    Snorting in derision, Aldo saw no reason to continue the conversation. They would know soon enough just who and what it was that had taken such a sudden interest in his ship.
    It took only moments to reach the bridge, and the first thing Aldo noticed was the harried expressions on the faces of his two crewmates there. The look on the face of his helmsman, Michael Dillone, spoke volumes.
    â€œA squadron of fast-attack ships, Boss. Two-seaters, all engine. No way we’re going to outrun them.” Aldo noted how his friend had reverted into the clipped tones that belied his normally laid-back nature. The former Starfleet security officer had slipped back into combat mode, already steeling himself for the confrontation he felt certain was coming.
    Leaning over the shoulder of the ship’s navigator, Gret, Aldo studied the status displays beneath the Bolian’s hands and updated himself on their current position. “We’re still three days away from where you wanted to take your sensor readings, Commander,” he said to Ross. “I’ve never heard of Cardassian ships in the Saltok system before.”
    â€œThat’s because they’re not supposed to be there,” Ross replied. “Have the Cardassians ever intercepted your ship and demanded an inspection when you weren’t traveling through their space?”
    Aldo shook his head. “No, never.”
    â€œThen it looks like things have changed in the Saltok system.” Looking over at Dillone, Ross asked, “Are their weapons systems charged?”
    The question was answered as the ship lurched violently to starboard, pushing Ross into the bulkhead even as Aldo grabbed on to the back of Gret’s chair for support. In the corner of his eye Aldo saw Giancarlo and the others flailing about in desperate attempts to keep from being thrown about the bridge.
    â€œI’m guessing they are,” Gret said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he held on to his console to retain his balance. To Aldo he said, “They’re moving to surround us.”
    Another impact rocked the ship and Aldo felt the deck buck beneath his feet. He steadied himself against the navigation console as inertial dampers struggled to compensate for the disruption to the ship’s flight path. As well constructed as he knew the
Hope
to be, Aldo held no illusions that the freighter stood any chance of survival if the Cardassians continued their assault. Gripping the edge of the console, he braced himself and waited silently for the next strike.
    Only when it did not come after nearly a minute did Aldo realize he was holding his breath. “Now what?”
    A beeping sound erupted from the forward bridge console at which Giancarlo had seated himself. Swiveling around in his chair to check it out, he looked up in Aldo’s direction. “We’re being hailed.”
    Aldo allowed himself to relax, but only slightly. Ifthe Cardassians had not blown them to space dust already, then chances were good that they might not do so at all, provided any questions or concerns could be addressed to their satisfaction. Would he know whoever it was who was hailing them, either by face or reputation? How much of the rapport that he and his crew had formed with other Cardassian patrol ships over the past few years of running freight through this sector would he be able to draw on?
    There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?
    Pausing only long enough to cast another irritated look at Ross, Aldo nodded to his brother. “On screen.”
    The image on the viewer shifted from the patrol ship that had taken up station off the
Hope
’s bow to that of a Cardassian military officer. His dark penetrating eyes seemed to bore straight through Aldo,