Free The Oppressor's Wrong by Phaedra M. Weldon

starbase’s sensor arrays to their tricorders, asking about every step Daniels made. Being only a lieutenant, he wasn’t sure if tellingthe commander to put a lid on it would be acceptable Starfleet protocol.
    Though twice when he found the man less than half a meter beside him he stifled the urge to shout
MOVE!
    â€œWhat are you doing now?” Snowden asked.
    Daniels counted to three before turning to look at the commander. He could just see Sage beyond Snowden’s shoulder. Unfortunately, the Fijorian was making as if to strangle the commander. “Sir, I’m updating the starbase elemental databases to synchronize with those of the
Enterprise.
This will allow the sensors to concentrate on the many variances of Gamma Quadrant—relevant material.”
    Data watched his own padd and kept an eye on the sensor diagnostics, making sure no centimeter of the ship was missed. They weren’t just looking for the pieces of bomb—they were also looking for the admiral.
    And everything was as clean as all the other stations had been.
    Until they reached deck twenty-seven. “And there it is,” Sage said from his position at the main sensor array panel. He held his tricorder in his hands. “I’ve got a level eighty-six percent across the board.”
    â€œEighty-six. That’s a low-percentage concentration,” Daniels said. “Antwerp read a ninety-three.”
    â€œWhat does that mean?” Snowden said.
    Data gave him a curious stare. “It means the computer is only eighty-six percent certain that the unknown particles found in this particular concentration are of Dominion origin.”
    â€œWhat will clinch the evidence,” Daniels said as he downloaded the readings into his padd, “is if we can identify the switch as being made of organic material.”
    â€œEight of the eleven particles are accounted for.” Data turned to Daniels. “I am also getting a steady but slow variance in thermal readings.”
    Daniels frowned. “You mean it’s getting hotter?”
    Data nodded quickly. “Yes.”
    â€œCan you get a lock on it? Beam it out?”
    â€œI told you, you can’t,” Snowden said. “It’s impossible.”
    Data touched a few panels. “There could be a transporter inhibitor in operation, which might also be why we cannot get an exact location.”
    â€œDammit,” Daniels said. He tapped his combadge. “Daniels to Picard. Sir,” he paused a second, not wanting to say the word bomb on any channel, open or secured, “we have a problem on deck twenty-seven, corridor nine, reactor room six.”
    â€œUnderstood. Can it be removed?”
    Data tapped his own combadge. “Not with thetransporter, sir. There is definitely an inhibitor set up nearby. I suggest a few of us go in with isolinear tags, locate it, and beam it out. I estimate we have sixteen minutes, sir.”
    â€œSixteen minutes before what?”
Picard said.
    Sage made a noise like an explosion, holding his hands out to his sides.
    â€œBefore the blast, sir. I am picking up a thermal signature that is gaining temperature at a steady rate,” Data said. Then, taking a cue from Sage, said, “Boom.”
    â€œCommander Riker will be leading a security team there as well to help search for the admiral.”
    â€œCaptain,” Snowden said. “I don’t believe sending more people over is necessary. My security people are quite capable of handling the situation.”
    â€œYes,”
Picard said.
“So capable that they fired on a Starfleet vessel without hailing them first. I’m afraid I’m going to have to override you on this one, Commander. We have to find Hahn and get rid of that bomb. Picard out.”
    Daniels sighed as he synchronized his tricorder with the main computer and set his phaser. He looked at Huff. “I suggest everyone set phasers at three point six. If there’s a bomb,