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Then something else happened. We felt a jolt, right through the deckplates. The lights went out at the same time, leaving us nothing to see by except the ghostly glow of blue-green emergency strips.

Corbis moved to the doors and pounded on them with the flat of his big, blue hand. “Let us out!” he cried.

I knew he’d get no satisfactory response. As it happened, he got no response at all.

But that was good the best outcome we could have hoped for, in fact. It meant our guards had abandoned us to attend to an emergency elsewhere on the ship and with the power that maintained the force field down, the only thing that stood between ourselves and our freedom was the doors themselves.

Standing beside the Pandrilite, I tried to dig my fingers into the tiny crevice between the rhodinium surfaces.

“What are you doing?” asked Thadoc.

“Trying to pry the doors open,” I explained. “And if it’s all the same to you, I could use some help.”

Even before I spoke, Worf had come over to join me. As he and Thadoc dug their fingers into the opening, Corbis lent his efforts, as well.

“Heave!” I cried.

We heaved. The doors parted ever so slightly.

“Heave!” I cried again.

This time, with a little better grip, we made more progress. A space the width of two of my fingers opened between the doors.

“Heave!” I cried a third time.

We put our shoulders and our backs into it, tugging as hard as we could. I felt some unseen restraint give way and the doors slid back into their wall-pockets, clearing the way for our escape.

The corridor outside our cell was dark as well, only the lighting strips providing illumination. With a cheer, the other prisoners pushed us into it, unmindful of what we might find there. Fortunately, there wasn’t a single Cardassian in sight but that didn’t mean it would stay that way.

Even if all other systems were down, internal sensors from other parts of the ship might pick up the movements of so many beings. It would only be a moment or two before the Cardassians realized what had happened, and less than a minute before they responded.

Two things were clear to me. First, we had to go on the offensive. Second, if we didn’t recover Red Abby immediately, we might never get another chance to do so.

And there was only one place they would keep her.

“This way,” I shouted over the tumult of voices, and started down the corridor toward the nearest lift.

“Where are you going?” asked Astellanax.

“The gul’s quarters,” I told him.

“Why there?” asked Thadoc.

“Because,” I said, “that’s where we’ll find your captain, assuming she’s still alive.”

“Wait a minute!” someone bellowed.

The Oord Corbis’s friend from the melee in the mess hall stepped forward with a belligerence characteristic of his species. He made an exaggerated gesture of dismissal with his arms.

“I don’t give a damn about the captain,” he rumbled. “I want to know where the escape craft are.”

More than a dozen voices went up in support of the Oord’s demand. With the casualties we had sustained on the Daring and the loss of Sturgis, that represented almost half our number.

But there was no time to argue. “Very well,” I said, pointing past them. “They’re over there. Two decks down.”

The Oord looked at me with narrowed eyes, no doubt wondering if I had any reason to lie to him. Then he took off in the direction I’d indicated, with the green-splotched Thelurian and several others on his heels.

To my surprise, Corbis wasn’t one of them. The Pandrilite watched his friends go for a second, then turned to me. He seemed ready to follow where I led at least for the moment.

Suddenly, the deck rocked beneath our feet, forcing us to grab the bulkheads for support. I was no longer willing to accept the accident theory. More and more, it was becoming clear to me that the ship was under attack though I couldn’t divine by whom and for what reason.

“The captain!” Astellanax cried, even before we’d recovered.

Thrusting myself away from the bulkhead, I made my way toward the lift. Ideally, I’d have proceeded with