Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: Young Adult Books #12: Trapped in Time Page 3

  Nog was rubbing his ears. He looked even colder than Jake felt. This was going to be a very long night if they had to spend it outside on wet ground.

  “Over there.” O’Brien was pointing to a building in the distance.

  “What is it?” Jake asked.

  “Looks like a barn,” O’Brien replied. “should give us some shelter.”

  While they walked across a soggy field to the barn,

  Jake looked around at their surroundings. It was dark, but the absence of a lot of structures seemed to indicate that they were in a rural area.

  The ground squished like a sponge underfoot, Jake’s boots scrunching as he walked. They were crossing an open field. It gave him the impression of being on a farm. As they neared the barn, he could see another building some distance beyond. It might be the farmhouse.

  “Maybe we should go to that house,” Jake suggested.

  O’Brien shook his head. “Not until we have a better idea of where—and when—we are.”

  There was no lock on the door to the barn, but the door creaked in protest as O’Brien forced it open. Jake was certain that someone must have heard them, but he looked back at the farmhouse and saw no lights coming on or doors opening.

  Inside Jake saw that it was indeed a barn. Except there were no animals, although there were pens that might have housed a cow or a horse. In the darkness it was hard to tell, but he had the distinct impression that the building had not been occupied in some time.

  “Do you have any idea what time period this is?” Nog asked.

  “Hard to tell,” O’Brien said. “Based on the harnesses and tools, it could be anywhere from the late eighteen hundreds to the middle of the twenty-first century.”

  Jake rummaged around and found a spot next to the wall and sat down. He was tired, more so than he had realized. “We can figure it out in the morning.”

  Nog opened his mouth, about to complain, but O’Brien interrupted. “Jake’s right. We can’t go running around in the dark. Come morning, when we’re rested, we’ll make a plan.”

  Good idea, Jake thought, as he leaned back against the boards. We need a plan. As he drifted off into a fitful sleep, he tried to formulate one in his mind. Often, when he had reached a writer’s block where he had no idea what to do next, he would stop. That night he would repeat the problem as he fell asleep, and often the answer would be waiting for him when he woke up in the morning.

  But if his subconscious had been working on a plan for this situation, it vanished—as Jake was suddenly jerked out of his slumber by the sound of strange voices.

  He felt something cold and hard against his ribs. He tried to push it away, but the prodding became more insistent and the voices louder.

  Jake opened his eyes and looked up to see a soldier in a strange uniform staring down at him. The man was speaking in a foreign tongue and jabbing at him with the deadly barrel of a rifle.

  CHAPTER 5

  Earth, France, 20th Century

  Jake froze as he looked into the barrel of the rifle. Wherever they were, the natives were definitely not friendly.

  He looked at the uniform of the man holding the rifle. It was obviously military, but beyond that he had no idea which army this soldier belonged to.

  “German,” O’Brien said. “They’re Germans.”

  Jake turned to see O’Brien being forced up against the wall by two of the soldiers. There were four in all. The one guarding O’Brien, the one standing on top of him, and two others looking for whoever else might be in the barn.

  “I recognize the uniforms. We’re in the middle of the twentieth century—the Second World War.” Before O’Brien could elaborate, one of the soldiers clubbed him hard in the stomach with the butt of his rifle and sent the chief engineer sagging to his knees.

  The German soldiers were not in a mood to discuss things. We have to escape, Jake thought. But how?

  Suddenly Jake was aware that something was missing here. Or rather someone was missing.

  Where’s Nog?

  Before Jake could consider the whereabouts of his missing friend, the roof fell in. Literally.

  Loose boards and boxes tumbled down from the barn’s loft on top of the German soldiers. One of them was hit in the shoulder by a plank and fell to the ground. The two soldiers who had been searching the barn scrambled to get out of the way of the falling debris.

  Jake looked up to see Nog, who had been hiding in the loft, leap down. He landed on top of the soldier guarding Jake, knocking them both to the ground.

  O’Brien seized the moment of confusion. He kicked the legs out from under the soldier who had been guarding him, grabbing his rifle in the process.

  On the floor Nog wrestled with the soldier, and Jake ran to help his friend.

  The other two Germans had started to recover from their confusion, and there was a tense moment when it was uncertain who held the balance of power.

  Then O’Brien fired a warning shot from the rifle.

  “Everybody freeze!” O’Brien shouted at the Germans.

  Without hesitation, two of the soldiers bolted out the door. Jake grabbed the rifle that the soldier who was wrestling with Nog had dropped.

  “OK, Nog! I’ve got his weapon.” Jake looked at the strange rifle in his hands. “Not that I’m sure how to use it.”

  “Point it and pull the trigger,” O’Brien said’ “It’s not a phaser, so be careful. It packs a kick—and can inflict a lot of damage to your target.” O’Brien looked at the German soldier he had turned the tables on as he made that last comment.

  “You are not French,” the soldier said as he stared at O’Brien. He spoke English quite well. “You are British.”

  “Close, but no Bajoran orb. I’m Irish. And proud of it.”

  Now the soldier took his first good look at Nog. His eyes widened. “That one is … strange.”

  “He’s-ah … from the provinces,” Jake tried to explain. Even in the urgency of their situation, he knew it could create a problem if enough people suspected there was an extraterrestrial in twentieth-century France. He wasn’t certain if people were into UFOs in this time period. “He was … deformed at birth. That’s why he looks like that.”

  “Deformed.” Nog was incensed. “I’m as handsome a Ferengi as You’ll find.”

  “Ferengi?” the soldier questioned.

  “Family name,” O’Brien explained. Then he turned to Jake and Nog. “Interesting situation we have here. Two German prisoners, and no real idea where we are.”

  “Ask him,” Jake said as he pointed to the soldier who spoke English.

  “Where are we?” O’Brien asked the soldier. The soldier hesitated. O’Brien pushed the barrel of the rifle into his chest. “If that’s not a military secret?”

  The soldier hesitated another moment, then answered, “This is Normandy.”

  “Normandy.” O’Brien repeated the word, then asked the soldier, “What’s the date?” The soldier was again hesitant, this time out of obvious confusion. O’Brien prodded him again. “The date?”

  But before the soldier could reply, there was noise outside the barn. Voices—and something else—were moving toward them.

  “Sounds like the ones who escaped have returned—and brought their friends,” Jake said.

  “What’s that noise?” Nog asked. “It sounds like a machine.”

  “Bashir and I have played enough holosuite war games to recognize that sound in our sleep,” O’Brien replied. “It’s a German tank!”

  Nog stepped over to the barn door and looked outside. “And it’s a big one!”

  “It would be best if you surrendered peacefully,” the German soldier said, his courage suddenly raised by the imminent arrival of his friends.

  “Don’t think so,” O’Brien said. “Close the door, Nog. And bolt it.”

  Nog quickly obeyed. There was no lock, but he grabbed a heavy plank. Jake came over and helped to put the plank in place. They positioned it to hold the door shut, although Jake t
hought it was doubtful it would do much to keep out the approaching tank. He had caught a brief glimpse of the tank while Nog was swinging the door shut. It was very big.

  “Now what do we do?” Nog wondered.

  O’Brien motioned for Jake and Nog to climb up to the loft. “There’s a window up there that leads out the back.”

  Jake looked at the two soldiers. “They’ll give us away.”

  “No, they won’t.” For a moment Jake thought O’Brien might shoot them. This was a war they were in the middle of, after all. But killing anyone, even an enemy who would probably not, show the same reluctance, was not something that he wanted to witness, much less participate in.

  To Jake’s relief, O’Brien instead used the butt of the rifle to knock them both unconscious. “Sorry about that. You’re going to have a whopper of a headache, but it’s a lot better than being dead.” O’Brien looked at Jake and Nog, who had paused near the top of the ladder leading up to the loft. “We have to be careful what we do here. These soldiers may not be destined to die in the war, so killing them—or anyone in this time period—might unintentionally change the future.”

  Behind them the voices and the noise of the approaching tank were growing ominously louder as they neared the barn. Quickly O’Brien scrambled up the ladder.

  “We have to move fast,” O’Brien said as he moved to the window. “The Germans will have this place surrounded in a moment. We’ll be trapped.”

  The window was small, barely large enough to squeeze through. But that was not what worried Jake. The ground below them seemed a long way down. That worried Jake.

  “The ground is wet and spongy,” O’Brien said. “We should be OK. Land like a paratrooper. When you hit the ground, let your body absorb the impact, and roll.”

  “Just like Academy basic training.” Nog smiled and went out through the window.

  Jake saw the Ferengi hit the ground, double up, and roll exactly as O’Brien had instructed. Then Nog was up on his feet and waved to his friend to follow.

  There was an instant of uncertainty. It was the second time that evening that Jake had followed Nog into the unknown.

  Then he was out the window and falling through space. The ground seemed to be even farther away than it looked. Jake hit the ground hard. It was a lot harder than he had imagined. His feet collapsed under him, and he sprawled rather than rolled with the impact. The air rushed out of his stomach as if he had been punched.

  Nog ran over and helped Jake to his feet. He was wobbly, and it took a moment for him to regain his balance. Then they looked up in time to see O’Brien start to follow.

  Suddenly there was an incredible roar. The German tank must have fired a cannon blast at the front of the barn. The whole structure shook violently—sending O’Brien crashing down toward the ground out of control.

  O’Brien fell through the air, hitting the ground off balance and falling sideways. He lay there motionless for a long moment as Jake and Nog rushed to help him.

  “Watch that first step,” O’Brien mumbled as Jake tried to help the chief to his feet. Suddenly O’Brien winced with pain and fell backward.

  “What’s wrong?” Jake asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

  “My ankle,” O’Brien said, his eyes glazed with the obvious pain he was feeling. “Twisted … maybe broken.”

  “We can carry you,” Jake said. He and Nog tried to lift O’Brien.

  “No,” O’Brien commanded. “I can’t run. And if you carry me, I’ll slow you down—and we’ll all be caught.”

  “We can’t leave you,” Jake said.

  “You have to.” O’Brien was not asking them, he was giving them an order. In the background the voices were growing louder. The Germans were inside the barn, and they’d be out there in a moment. Jake knew there was no time to debate the course of action. He also knew O’Brien was right.

  “Come on, Nog,” Jake said to the Ferengi. “It’s up to us to find the Changeling.”

  Nog started to protest, but he, too, realized that this was their only course of action. He looked at O’Brien. “We’ll be back for you.”

  “I know you will. Now get going.”

  So they ran.

  The ground was wet and marshy, which made running hard, but it also muffled their footsteps. The cloudy night hid the moon, making it difficult for them to be spotted by any pursuing Germans.

  They were certain they were being chased. Jake could only hope they had enough of a head start to elude their pursuers.

  “Any idea where we’re going?” Nog whispered as they ran.

  “None,” Jake answered in his own breathless whisper. He didn’t know how long they had been running, but his lungs were straining to catch a breath, and his legs were running on sheer adrenaline. Maybe they had outdistanced the Germans and could stop, but he was afraid to take the chance. But he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up this pace.

  “We have to stop,” Nog said after they had run a short distance farther.

  “We can’t…” Jake started to protest, but his exhausted legs were in agreement with Nog.

  They stopped.

  All around them the night was silent, except for the chirping of insects and the occasional hooting of a distant owl. There was no sound of voices, German or otherwise.

  “If we keep going, we might run into another German patrol,” Nog said.

  Jake knew he was right. He remembered his history. This was Occupied France during Earth’s Second World War. The enemy was everywhere. They needed daylight. They needed to know exactly where they were. And they needed a plan. Things were rapidly deteriorating from bad to worse.

  “I’m wet” Nog’s complaint suddenly caused Jake to realize that his feet were ankle deep in water. They had stopped running just in time, or they would have plunged straight into a marsh. “And I’ve lost my commbadge.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Jake replied.

  “How will we find Chief O’Brien without it?” Nog asked as he felt around in the dark water without success.

  “We won’t find him with it,” Jake replied. “This is nineteen forty-four. The nearest global computer network is several hundred years away. In this time period, a commbadge is as useful as a radio is to a caveman.”

  “Maybe so,” Nog admitted. “But it is Starfleet property, and they’ll charge me for it.”

  “Right now we have more urgent problems,” Jake said. “We need to move to higher ground.” He looked up at the night sky. The dark clouds were beginning to turn from black to gray. Dawn was coming. They had to find a safe place.

  There was a thick clump of trees not far away. The ground was still damp and soggy, but the foliage was dense enough to shelter them from prying eyes. Or so they hoped.

  Jake tried to sleep, or at least nap. He was only partially successful. He had been on camping weekends several times with his father, both on Mars and on Earth, and that helped. But trying to remain alert to any unusual sound in a place where most of the natural sounds were unusual to him made it difficult. Finally, after several futile attempts, he did manage to doze.

  Morning arrived too soon. The sky was still overcast, and the clouds were painted with several variations of gray. It mirrored Jake’s mood as he sat up.

  Nog was equally pessimistic. “We have a problem. A really big problem.”

  Jake was well aware of that. He had been trying to formulate a plan, or at least a course of action. But their plight did seem pretty hopeless.

  “We don’t know where the Changeling is. We don’t know where Chief O’Brien is.” Jake listed their problems. “We don’t even know where we are.”

  “And I’m freezing,” Nog added.

  Jake was cold, too. Very cold. The clothes they were wearing were not intended for survival in the outdoors. At least Nog’s Academy uniform was woven with a fabric that retained body warmth in cold weather and expelled it during hot. But even it was not designed for these kinds of circumstances. And Jake’s clothing provid
ed even less protection against the morning chill.

  “I think—” Jake started to suggest what they should do next, but Nog held up a hand to silence him. Jake could see Nog’s large ears quivering. One advantage they did have was Nog’s keen Ferengi sense of hearing.

  “Someone’s coming,” Nog whispered.

  “Where?” Jake asked, keeping his voice low.

  Nog pointed out in the direction of the marsh and the deep lake beyond. “That way. A boat.”

  Jake listened. At first there was nothing, then he began to hear it. Someone rowing a boat. He could hear the sound of the oars as they stroked through the water.

  “Germans?” Jake said softly, wondering if they had been discovered.

  Jake and Nog tried to become invisible, staying low and blending into the foliage as best they could, as the boat drew nearer. They were some distance from the edge of the marsh and, they hoped, would not be seen by those in the boat.

  Which appeared to be the case as the boat moved past them and farther down the marsh. Crouched down in the brush, Jake was unable to see if German soldiers were in the boat. Perhaps it was only a local fisherman out to catch breakfast.

  So intent where they on not being heard or seen that neither Jake nor Nog was aware of someone else moving toward them from the opposite direction—until it was too late.

  “Hold.” The single word was sharp as a knife.

  Jake bolted up from the brush and turned in time to see something rushing toward his head. There was an instant of blinding pain, and then he mercifully fell into unconsciousness.

  CHAPTER 6

  Earth, Occupied France, Normandy, 1944

  Stars swirled in Jake’s head. Strange nebulas and distant novas. Slowly, relentlessly, he was being drawn toward a gigantic black hole. He tried to retreat, but there was no escape. The overwhelming pull of gravity sucked him into the darkness. The stars vanished, and he was falling … falling … falling through the absolute darkness. Was he dying?

  Then, up ahead, there was a pinpoint of bright light. He was falling toward the light. It grew and grew … until it surrounded him.