• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“Geez, even a real golf ball has seams,” Fabian finally said in frustration as the latest attempt to gain ingress met with failure.

“Not this one,” Duffy said with a sigh.

Pattie made one of her tinkly noises. “Perhaps we should attempt to use a phaser on the golf ball.”

“That is an unacceptable risk,” Salek said. “The device was found on the bridge. Logically, that means it might well be a weapon—or, at the very least, be booby-trapped.”

“Yeah, the Jem’Hadar wouldn’t have it on the bridge,” said Duffy, “if it wasn’t important.”

“Or if it wasn’t theirs.”

Fabian turned to see that Abramowitz was speaking.

“You’re all leaving out one possibility,” she continued. “What if the Jem’Hadar found it and they don’t know what it is either? Maybe it really is a golf ball with a pituitary problem.”

“There is an indication—” 110 started.

111 finished. “—of electronics within the golf ball.”

“So?” Abramowitz shrugged, her short black hair bouncing slightly. “Maybe it’s a gyroscope to keep it on track after it’s been hit off the tee.”

Laughing, Fabian said, “You play golf?”

Abramowitz nodded.

“Go fig’. I thought my grandfather was the only person left in the Federation who played.”

“Nah,” Duffy said, “I had an aunt and uncle who played, too. My parents used to send me to stay with them whenever I was being too annoying.”

Fabian found himself speaking without thinking, his frustration at twelve hours of dead ends lowering his resistance. “Spent a lot of time with them, did you?” He immediately regretted speaking up. True, Duffy had a relaxed manner, but he was an officer, and they didn’t usually take kindly to the enlisted folk making snide remarks.

To Fabian’s relief, however, Duffy just laughed and said, “More than I would’ve liked to, yeah. Never took to the game, though. I was always about eight million over par.”

“As diverting as this discussion of human gaming practices is,” Salek said, “we should return to the business at hand. While Abramowitz’s suggestion has merit, we must assume, for the nonce, that this belongs to the Dominion or one of its allies.”

Blinking, Fabian looked at the golf ball again. One of its allies. Once again, he had that familiar feeling, and those words triggered it.

Then, finally, it hit him. “That’s it!”

“What is ‘it’?” Salek asked.

“I knew I’d seen something like this before.” He turned to the others. “A few years back, I was serving on the Defiant. We went into the Gamma Quadrant to mediate a trade dispute involving the Federation, the Karemma, and the Ferengi. A couple Jem’Hadar ships attacked and we all wound up in the atmosphere of a gas giant.”

“All?” Duffy asked, sounding serious for once.

“It was us, two Jem’Hadar, and a Karemma ship. At one point, the Jem’Hadar fired on us, but the torpedo didn’t detonate on impact like it was supposed to.” He smiled. “Dumb luck, really, but it kept us alive long enough to get out of it in one piece. The funny thing is, the torpedo was designed by the Karemma.”

“Aside from the obvious irony,” Pattie said, “how does that help us?”

“The surface of this thing is made of the same material as that torpedo. It didn’t have any visible seams, either, but Quark managed to get it open.”

110 and 111 exchanged glances. “You got it open—”

“—with a subatomic particle?”

“Uh, no,” Fabian said, trying to hold back a laugh. “Quark is a Ferengi bartender.”

“The Defiant’s a warship that’s even smaller than this,” Pattie said. “How did you have room for a bartender?”

Fabian felt himself losing control of the conversation. “He wasn’t the bartender on the ship, he—”

Salek mercifully interrupted. “As fascinating as this discussion is, I’m afraid it will have to wait. We will be arriving at the Phicus system in ten minutes, thirty seconds. Duffy, Blue, you’re with me. The rest of you, carry on.”

Fabian stared at Okha, Abramowitz, and the two Bynars. “‘Carry on,’ huh?” He shook his head. “So, should I finish the story?”

“There was a story?” Abramowitz asked.

“Sorial estarifo,