III

EXORCISMS

CHAPTER TEN

Razad Kor

(The Badlands)

His eyes were enflamed by the brightness of the lights hanging overhead. Glover raised a blistered arm to shield them from the painful illumination, but a brutish Cardassian guard yanked his arm down to his side, thick fingernails digging into his raw flesh. The iron chains of his shackles clanged.

“Don’t move,” he warned. Terrence glanced at the young man, a blood red mask covered the lower part of his face, leaving on the scaly ridges around his eye sockets and forehead visible. He poked the hard emitter cone of his rifle into the captain’s flesh before returning to his previous position just behind Glover. “Keep your eyes to the front,” the man whispered before becoming as silent as the stone in the cavern entombing the proceedings of this kangaroo court. Seeing no need to incur further pain at the moment, Glover complied, burying his simmering hatred deep within him. Tomorrow it will be me, he thought.

Vaguely similar to an Earth courtroom, a podium, with a Cardassian Union flag hanging from it, had been set up in the rear of the cave. On the left sat a row of chairs filled with the youngest members of the terrorist cell. To the right was an empty witness stand. A quivering Lt. Keta sat in a highly raised chair facing the podium. Glover and the other offenders sat in chairs placed safely out of reach. A cordon of Cardassian soldiers, cuirasses gleaming, their faces masked surrounded Terrence, a battered Molok, and a subdued Founder. Both Molok and the Changeling had been similarly shackled.

The cave was ringed with cameras recording the proceeding, as a raft of lights hung from the ceiling to rid the murky warren of shadows. The imposing Darcis hovered among the patches of darkness, moving from one well to another, as if trying to find the perfect spot to observe this mockery.

The kindly medic Rumal, serving as his legal counsel fidgeted as he approached the podium, Gul Keshet staring imperiously down at him and everyone else. Glinn Sulle, serving as the prosecuting conservator, was already at the bench, her arms crossed in a sign of discomfort. Traditionally, Rumal playing the role of nestor for all of the accused in this legal charade traditionally did not address the court. However Glover had been adamant that the man move to abrogate these entire procedures due to the questionable jurisdiction the court claimed to have, especially since the Cardassian Union was now a defunct political entity.

Rumal had done his best to dissuade Terrence from pushing for a mistrial; to convince him, and the other offenders, as well to confess their crimes. ‘Confession is good for the soul’, he had muttered time and again during the consultations. Of course, the captain would confess nothing. Watching the portly man gesticulating awkwardly before the bench, Glover couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He hoped that his obstinacy would not result in the doctor being punished. Keshet seemed unfazed by the flailing man. He shook his head slowly, pointing in the direction of Keta. Head slumped, Rumal moved to stand beside the young woman.

The gul looked next to his right. On cue, the young militants began rapping their knuckles against their seats, creating a hollow ringing throughout the cavern. Once it died down, Keshet cleared his throat, causing all of the cameras in the cave to turn towards him. His scaly, marred features scrunched as severe as Terrence had yet seen, the gul began. “Citizens of Cardassia. I am Gul Aldur Keshet of the Twelfth Order, as extinct now as the Central Command that once defended our noble Union. Today we begin the real rebuilding process, not through some alien concept of government thrust upon us, but by trying, convicting, and punishing those who are truly responsible for losing the war and our current difficulties.” With a flick of his hand, the cameras and lights converged on Keta, Terrence, and the others. The captain squinted, forcing himself not to show any other signs of weakness. Instead he kept his gaze focused on Keshet.

“The Founders, the Federation Alliance, and collaborators, they are all scavengers, robbing us of our place in the sun, and in short order the True Way will deal with all of them. These are but the first.” The gul leaned back in his seat, a skeletal smile creeping over his face. “We begin with the trial of Sial Keta, the daughter of infamous defectors Jobal and Siene Keta, both of whom deserted the Cardassian people for the permissive comforts of the Federation. During the war, Sial Keta conspired against the Cardassia by working with Starfleet Command to turn Cardassian culture against her own people. After the war, she continued expressing her self-loathing by working in league with the occupying governments. Keta’s crime is collaboration, and death will be her punishment for this capital offense.” He paused a second, before bellowing, “Begin!”

Sulle smoothly left her seat and approached the bench. Turning dramatically, the cameras capturing her reptilian face in a pleasing light, the glinn batted her blue eyes before starting. “Gentlefolk of Cardassia, I am Glinn Sulle, Twelfth Order. I will be serving as public conservator during these proceedings, and I will show through evidence and testimony that each of the accused, beginning with Sial Keta, had committed war crimes, punishable only by torture and death, against the Cardassian Union.” Pausing for a hair split second to exhale, Sulle continued. “I will ask you now, before Archon Keshet, Nestor Rumal, these cameras, and the Cardassian people, to confess your crimes. We promise you that your death will be painless.”

Rumal whispered into Keta’s ear. Terrence’s stomach twisted with sick anticipation. He hoped that she wouldn’t break, even though he understood if she did. In the deepest, most shameful corners of himself, he had almost confessed after the last interrogation session with Darcis. But his love for Jasmine and the Federation, and his position as a Starfleet captain, had kept him hanging on. He wouldn’t relent to these thugs by being weak, by legitimizing their terrorism.

Keta’s head bobbled. “I will confess nothing.” She spoke, her voice cracking. Sulle’s eyes darkened.

“So be it. I call Sial Keta, daughter of Jobal and Siene to the stand.” Rumal helped the fragile woman, thin, bruised arms and legs weighted down by iron shackles, shuffle to the stand.

Glover was proud of the young woman as she sat defiantly before the archon, her head high. Unbowed. The captain had seen so much of the malignant side of the Cardassian nature for much of his life in Starfleet, especially during the Dominion War, that he had allowed himself to erase all worthy traits from the Cardassian character, even excising the concept of character from the spoon heads. He saw now how wrong he was. He had allowed his hatred and love to blind him, to harden his heart to carry out the brutal business of warfare, but in the process had forgot that not all Cardassians believed or supported the ruthless regimes of Dukat, Damar, and Broca. But his new insight was tempered by the fact that he would not change anything he had done during the war. His love for Jasmine, his need to avenge her and so many others still burned brightly within him.

Sulle circled the redoubtable young woman, her hands clasped around a golden data rod held behind her back. “Please tell the court why you were onboard a Federation warship?” Her rasp was soft, her words sibilant.

“I was serving as the Cardassian Security Forces liaison officer for the extradition of the Founder Leader to Nimbus III to stand trial. A real trial,” she added. The glinn stiffened at the dig, her features sharpening. She stroked the hilt of the phase-disruptor pistol strapped to her thigh. Terrence’s heart caught in his throat because he thought Sulle was about to strike or shoot the defiant Keta. Instead, Sulle turned to the cameras and the audience and smiled.

“So, you are a member of the Cardassian Security Forces?” Keta nodded. “I take that as a yes?”

“Yes,” she grumbled.

“The Security Forces that replaced the Central Command, dismantled by the Federation Alliance at the end of the war?”

“Yes.”

“And who governs the Security Forces?”

Keta exhaled loudly before answering, twisting her neck to follow the still circling Sulle. “The Diet has recently assumed control of the Security Forces after the election of Professor Natima Lang to Premier. A position your man Legate Tarkon lost I believe.”

“We don’t support vole bellies such as Tarkon or yourself!” Keshet thundered, striking the bench with clenched fists. Sulle stopped her pacing to round on Keshet. She said nothing, but merely looked at him for several tense seconds. The glinn only continued after the diminutive Keshet had settled down. Glover could almost imagine still feeling rays of heat emanating from the smoldering gul.

“Before this so-called handover of control, who controlled the Security Forces?”

“The Civil Authority.”

“And they are?”

“I am tired of this charade.”

“Shar-raid?”

“It’s an Earth word,” Keta began, but Sulle lunged at her, beaming in triumph.

“Even now, with her life and honor at stake, she reveals whom she truly identifies with. The humans,” the glinn said the word, as it was a disease on her tongue.

“No,” Keta’s chains rattled as she raised her hand in protest. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean? Hmmm? Tell us.” Keta merely stared at Sulle, her mouth open in shock, her face flushing with emotion. Terrence couldn’t be sure if frustration or shame were responsible for the intense coloration. The glinn turned from the hapless Keta to approach the trial bench.

“I present this data rod to the court,” Sulle offered the gleaming rod to Keshet, who quickly snatched it from her. He held it up to the light, the slender rod glinting in glare of the cameras now affixed to it. “The device includes detailed information regarding Glinn-sed Keta’s activities during the war, including several of her analyses of Cardassian culture, society, and politics for Starfleet Command. Information used by the Federation against her own people in countless instances.”

“Such as?” Glover realized the words had come from his lips at the same time as Keshet and Sulle shifted their raptorial gazes towards him.

“Silence human!” Keshet said.

“No.” The chains clanked as Glover made to move from his seat. “This is a mockery of justice. A kangaroo court!” He bit back the pain as the guard behind him cracked his shoulder with the butt of his rifle, somehow remaining on his feet. Eyes welling with tears, he managed to spit out. “This is a set up! You’re the real traitors to Cardassia!”

“Restrain him!” The archon roared. His head exploded as the cold steel of the disruptor rifle made contact with his head. His vision swam with fat black spots as he slumped to the floor. “Continue your presentation Conservator Sulle,” was the last thing he heard before he succumbed to the warm murmurings of a slick, enticing darkness.

Deep Space Nine

(Ward Room)

Ivan Cherenkov snarled as the image on the screen abruptly blacked out. “Those bastards!” He planted his feet to the floor and gripped the armrests of his chair to prevent himself from hurling it across the Ward Room. Aquiel briefly placed a calming hand on his knotted shoulder. He yanked away from her, regretting the harsh gesture as soon as he had done it, but knowing it was the right thing to do, if not necessarily the right way to go about it. Fraternization was one less charge he needed to be brought up on. He knew she was still in mourning for Lt. Mercer, the first death under her command. He knew he should be there for her, but he just couldn’t. Too much was at stake. In order to save them all he would have to risk losing her, but there was no other way.

“I agree,” Colonel Kira Nerys replied as she moved to turn deactivate the screen. “But that doesn’t change the fact that the True Way has the Founder and your captain, along with the others, or that the trials will continue. And I know from personal experience that Cardassian jurisprudence is nothing if not efficient.”

“So, what are our options?” The normally quiet Lt. Glover asked, her eyes red and bleary, the healthy sheen gone from her walnut brown skin.

“We’re grounded remember,” Tai Donar grumbled, looking first at Ivan and then at the Bajoran colonel for a glimmer of hope. Hope that went unanswered. For now, the First Officer vowed to himself.

“There are four starships-the Sutherland, Phoebe, Abubakari, and Robert Lawrence- combing possible escape routes, several of which lead to the Badlands. But so far, there haven’t been any substantial leads.” Security Chief Daneeka offered.

Commander Ousanas Dar turned in his seat to the two Starfleet Security representatives hovering at the door to the Ward Room. “Did the prisoners reveal any information that could be of use to us? Like, where the Founder and Captain Glover are being held?”

The Orion slinked forward, her dark green lips twisted in a smile, but her amber eyes were cold. “So far they have proven most uncooperative.” Behind her, the dark, stoic Trill merely nodded.

“I find that hard to believe with all of the screaming coming from the holding cells,” Daneeka glared at the two security agents.

“Neither the Bajoran government nor the Federation condone torture,” Kira warned. “I will have to investigate this allegation.”

“The Cardassians are a little vocal,” the Trill stepped forward, “but I can assure you that our interrogation methods are legal. We invite anyone to observe us. Are we gentle? Sometimes no, but the fate of billions is at stake.”

“And we’re still at square one,” Jasmine uttered, her grief melting her usual wall of reserve. “You all saw that broadcast, you see what they’ve did to my husband and that poor Cardassian girl. We’ve got to do something; we’ve got to save them!”

“I agree Lt. Glover,” Commander Dar shook his head. “Perhaps I should take over the interrogation of the prisoners.”

“Absolutely not!” The Trill replied, his face darkening with anger. “Our authority comes expressly from Admiral Glover.”

“I know a few admirals too son,” Dar snapped back. “One of which is the Commander-in-Chief of the Fleet. I don’t think Admiral Glover outranks her.”

Kira quickly silenced the Trill’s retort by slicing through the air. “Now is not the time for infighting. We need to figure out what we’re going to do and then how to handle the Klingons and Romulans.” Ivan nodded. He was certain that both of their governments had received the trial footage splayed all over the newsnets, and were similarly crafting responses to this outrage.

“Colonel Kira is right,” Ivan spoke up, “perhaps Commander Dar could speak to some of his admiral friends and see if Admiral Shanthi would lift her suspension, and allow us to join in the search. Anything is better than just sitting here, waiting on Captain Glover to be executed.”

“I agree,” Kira responded, looking to her First Officer. “Commander Dar?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Dar answered.

Uncharacteristically wringing her hands, the tempestuous Bajoran colonel sighed. “Now I’ve got to meet with Commander T’San and Captain Kreng to inform them of our ‘progress.’” She looked at Ivan and then the rest of the assembled officers. “Meeting,” before she could dismiss them, her combadge chirped. Tapping it lightly, the colonel replied. “Colonel Kira here.”

“Colonel,” the voice answered. “A Dominion warship just came through the wormhole, weapons running hot, and it’s headed for the station.”

“Red alert!” She yelled, bounding out the door, the others scrambling to catch up. “I’m on my way.”

***************

Deep Space Nine

(Operations Center)

Cherenkov stood by the turbolift in the back of the circular Operations Center, the ganglion of Deep Space Nine. Aquiel fidgeted by his side. He had barely spoken with her since their argument at Quark’s, one he had partly designed to spare her from not only the threat to her career posed by Naim Elfar, but also the threat to her life, and of her love for him if she had learned about some of the more unsavory aspects of his service to the Federation. She was the best thing in his life, ever, and he didn’t want his past to ruin it. He would rather destroy what they had than see the light dim from her eyes, and the warmth leave her smile and touch as her love turned to revulsion. Ivan wanted to touch her, to pull her close to him, but he restrained himself, instead focusing his attention on the screen.

Against the dazzling golden and azure backdrop of the Bajoran wormhole, a large bug-shaped ship streaked through space. His stomach tightened with memories, as a hush ran through the Operations room. He and so many others had fought against such ships, had watched friends and dreams die at the hands of similar machines of death.

“Dominion warship hailing,” a young, muscular black man standing at the Tactical Console, on the other side of the room, replied.

“On screen,” the colonel ordered. The Jem’Hadar representative, Nitala’Rax stood beside Colonel Kira in the pit of the command center. Seconds later, the translucent face of a Vorta smiled down at them, its dark eyes twinkling with merriment. “Colonel Kira,” he replied, looking her up and down before his eyes swept over the rest of the officers, “assembled guests.” He frowned slightly. “Charge d’affairs Nitala’Rax.” He paused, as the light returned to his shining eyes and his gentle, elfin features. “I am Eilif, a humble servant of the Founders. It is on their behalf that I have been sent, with more ships to follow, to help assist in recovering our Founder from the vile clutches of the Cardassians.”

“More ships to follow?” Kira asked, voice dripping with suspicion.

“Of course,” Eilif said cheerily. “They are just on the other side of the wormhole. We didn’t want to cause too much of a stir…after the recent difficulties between our nations. Once again, I offer a personal apology for the behavior of the rogue Jem’Hadar who wreaked so much destruction upon your homeworld.” He threw up his hands. “Those kinds of behaviors can be expected when people forget their place.” His gaze bore into Nitala’Rax. The Jem’Hadar warrior returned the glare.

“We don’t dwell in the past,” Kira replied. “Nitala’Rax’s presence here, as well as his honorable conduct, has been proof enough that there can be peace between our peoples.”

“And we are here in the interests of peace.” Eilif profusely nodded, carefully avoiding acknowledging the colonel’s comments about Nitala’Rax.

“It’s amazing that the Dominion has learned about this unfortunate incident so quickly all the way in the Gamma Quadrant,” Commander Dar weighed in. “How is that possible?”

“The wonders of Dominion technology I suppose.” Eilif sniffed. “May our ship dock at your station?”

Kira hesitated for a few seconds. “In addition to Starfleet ships, we also have Romulan and Klingon soldiers here,” the colonel warned. “In fact, your unexpected arrival has made me late for a meeting with their representatives.”

Eilif clapped his hands. “Excellent. What better way to show our peaceful intentions than to attend this meeting with two of our most bitter former foes.”

“Thanks for inviting yourself,” Kira quipped.

“It was the least I could do,” Eilif smiled, the sarcasm lost on him, “I’ll be seeing you shortly.” The screen blinked off. The colonel turned to the Tactical Officer. “Lt. Easun, coordinate docking and security arrangements for the Dominion ship. I guess we have more guests.”

“More fun for you huh?” Dar grunted.

“Lucky me,” Kira grumpily replied.

USS Aegis

(Cherenkov’s Quarters)

“I want in,” Lt. Jasmine Glover’s tall, slender frame barely filled the entrance to Cherenkov’s quarters.

“Into what?” The First Officer tried to play coy.

“Now’s not the time Commander,” Jasmine replied, as stern and determined as he had ever seen her. “Admiral Glover has informed me about the Security specialists.”

“Is that so?” Another voice said from inside the commander’s darkened room. The guttural voice of the Trill she had run into a day ago. “Let her in Ivan. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

Relenting, the muscular Russian moved aside, Jasmine sliding past him. Seated around a metal table in the quarter’s small kitchen area was the Trill, his Orion partner, Tai Donar, Pell Ojana, Lt. Rojas, and Sgt. Curtis Slade, mission leader of the Marine contingent specially assigned to Aegis in order guard the Changeling.

As far as Cherenkov was concerned, they had done a piss poor job. He wished that Command would’ve given them a Special Missions team instead. But a lot of them were spread throughout Cardassian space, tamping out insurgent brush fires.

“Juanita?” Jasmine gasped in surprise. “I suspected the others, but not you.”

“Captain Glover is like a father to me,” the Flight Control Officer shrugged. “I would do anything for him, career be damned.”

“And you do understand what we are proposing could mean the end of all our careers, plus stockade time if we are caught.” Ivan intoned gravely.

“My career vs. my husband. No contest.” Jasmine replied, plucking a rolling chair from behind a desk terminal to sit beside Lt. Rojas. Cherenkov retook his seat at the table.

“Commander Dar informed me less than an hour ago that his appeal to reactivate the Aegis crew has been denied.”

“Damn Shanthi,” Donar cursed, the vehemence directed at a superior officer momentarily stunning Jasmine. She had spent her brief time aboard Aegis wrapped in her own cocoon of isolation and pain that she really didn’t have any idea what her crewmates were like or how they acted away from their superiors. “She’s been after us since the Kesprytt III mission.”

“I know,” the Trill replied, rubbing his right arm, but looking at Jasmine. He smiled briefly, the gesture meant to be reassuring no doubt, but it only added to his menacing countenance.

“So, what is Plan B?” Pell asked.

“First,” the Orion woman, her smile much more alluring than the Trill’s, interjected, “I’m curious to know what Admiral Glover told you about us.”

“First off, your names are not Cyia Bast or Devol Adan.” Both nodded, the Trill’s jaw tightening at the revelation. “And neither one of you hold the rank of Commander in Starfleet Security.” As truthful as she was willing to be, Jasmine leaned back in her seat, trying to be nonchalant as the tendrils of fear curled in her stomach, “He told me that you were undercover Starfleet Intelligence officers and that you were going to do whatever is necessary to return my husband to me.” The Orion nodded, her dark green eyes flashing in contemplation.

“Yes, that is correct.”

“And to that end,” the Bajoran retook the floor. “What is our contingency?”

“We take the Aegis anyway,” Cherenkov answered. A current of surprise ran through her at the audacity of the plan.

“Take it where?” Rojas, similarly shaken, asked.

“The Badlands. An abandoned mining post called Razad Kor.” The Trill answered.

“And where did you come by that information?” Pell asked.

“We were less than forthcoming in the briefing the other day,” the Orion admitted.

“So, you lied?” Jasmine probed.

“No, we were merely selective in what we chose to report,” the agent replied. “Galactic peace is at risk, and we didn’t have time to wait for the Federation Council or Starfleet Command to dither away at a response. Sometimes quick, covert action is needed to preserve liberty.”

“Who gives you the right to make that decision though?” Jasmine couldn’t help herself.

“This isn’t the time for a civics lesson lieutenant,” Cherenkov barked before the Orion could reply. “This is our plan, time is of the essence. You said you wanted in, so there it is. Are you in or out?”

“I’m in,” she whispered.

“Good, if memory serves, you last served as an engineer on the Mandela before switching to Operations Management. Am I correct?”

“Yes,” Jasmine forced herself to speak, as memories of spewing, voracious green plasma coolant, devouring her arm and leg as the Mandela’s engines ruptured, ripped through her mind. The interfaces for her artificial limbs tingled at the recollections. “I was an engineering officer…a long time ago. But the Prometheus-class engines are very complex. Where is Commander Uhnari?” Jasmine was a bit surprised that the Haliian, known for occasional bouts of impulsiveness was not among the cadre of renegade officers. A mission like this, breaking the rules to save her commanding officer and friend, seemed right up her alley.

“This is strictly a need to know mission,” Cherenkov snapped. “We don’t want the circle widened. Do you think you can master the Aegis’s engines or not?”

Wanting to say no, afraid to step back into a starship engine room again, the denial froze in her throat at the thought of Terrence, whom had risked his life and was suffering now, for her. She wouldn’t be his wife, or his partner if she couldn’t at least do all she could to rescue him now. “I…I can do it.”

Cherenkov’s lips thinned into a tight smile. “Good.”

“So, what’s next?” Rojas asked.

“Razad Kor is located in the Badlands, which you all know is a part of space riveted with plasma storms and spatial anomalies, creating an almost natural defensive barrier against any forward rescue attempt,” the Orion replied. “In addition, the Cardassian prisoner Beroz informed us that there are at least two orbital weapons platforms defending the terrorists’ hideout.”

“Damn,” Rojas muttered. “The last time I went against those things was at the battle of Cardassia Prime.”

“They were responsible for destroying a lot of starships by themselves,” Donar added, nodding solemnly. “How do we counteract that?”

“For one, we don’t make ourselves an obvious target,” the Trill answered.

“Well, how do we do that?” Donar asked; his voice strained with frustration.

“A cloaking device.”

“The Algeron Treaty forbids the Federation from using cloaking devices,” Pell said. “It’s not like we can just order one from the replicator.”

“There is one Federation starship that has a cloak,” Juanita offered. “The Defiant.”

“Correct Lieutenant,” the Orion beamed. “We’re going to borrow it.”

“You can’t be serious!” Jasmine gasped, pushing away from the table in disgust. “That’s a Starfleet vessel.”

“She’s serious,” Donar replied.

“But how are we going to do that?” Pell asked.

“You’re not condoning this are you Pell?” Jasmine looked at her, trepidation roiling in her eyes. The Bajoran nodded, before turning away from the Operations Officer’s frantic, searching gaze. She next turned Cherenkov. “Please tell me Commander, there’s got to be another way.”

“If there is lieutenant, I don’t have it,” the Russian grumbled.

“What about the Defiant’s crew?” Rojas asked, “With that Jem’Hadar warship out there, they will be alert. I don’t think we’re going to be able to ‘borrow’ it without a fight, which I don’t think is a good idea in light of the circumstances. Plus, it might damage both ships, the first line of defense Bajor and the station have.” Jasmine nodded vigorously in support of the helmsman’s point.

“The procedure will be surgical,” the Orion almost purred. “There should be few setbacks and minimal damage, if any, in appropriating the ship’s cloak.”

“I can’t help but believe that you’re being selective with your description of how ‘easy’ it will be,” the Operations Officer retorted.

“There are also Klingon and Romulan warships docked here to defend the station in the event of a Dominion attack,” Donar offered.

“Would you like to entrust the lives of Federation and Bajoran citizens solely to the Klingons or Romulans?” Jasmine retorted. “I wouldn’t.”

“Now’s not the time for a morality play Lt. Glover,” snapped the Trill. “Your husband, the Changeling, and myriad lives are hanging on our actions. If the Founder is executed, there will be an armada of Dominion warships plowing through the wormhole, decimating everything in their wake. A Second Dominion War, can you imagine that? How many more billions will die?”

Jasmine’s veil of sadness was pricked by a surprisingly gentle touch. Cherenkov looked deeply into her eyes. “Jasmine,” he sad softly, the first time he had ever called her by her given name, “are you in or out?”

“In,” she meekly replied, biting acids sloshing in her belly. The First Officer merely nodded.

“Good.” Turning from her, his mien instantly hardening, Cherenkov began issuing orders. “I want Commander Pell and Lieutenants Donar and Glover to head to Aegis’s bridge. We can run the ship from there. Extended shore leave at DS9 and Bajor has already been issued, so the ship should be close to empty. Your task is to clear the rest of the ship and man your stations, awaiting further orders.”

“My soldiers can assist you with evacuating the ship and any other tasks you require,” Sgt. Slade, his baldhead glistening, waded into the conversation. “We’ve been ready to leave this station and take it the Cardies for days now.”

“Good, Sergeant,” the First Officer replied, “but I’ll need you with me.” Slade’s eyes widened as a smile etched across his hard features, but he said nothing in return.

“What are you going to be doing?” Pell asked Cherenkov and the operatives. “How are you going to get the cloaking device? Something tells me that you’re not just going to ask for it.”

“Leave that up to us,” the Orion operative smiled, “I can be pretty persuasive when I choose to be.”

USS Defiant

(Main Engineering)

“Can I see it?” Ensign Hetis, the Defiant’s new conn officer, purred, “Please?” The striking Boslic female reached down and stroked his chin. The Ferengi melted from her touch, closing his eyes in spite of himself, savoring the brief contact.

Nog, serving double duty as chief engineer for both the station and the Defiant, allowed a far too infrequent heat to suffuse him as his prominent lobes throbbed with restrained lust. Shocked and embarrassed by the primal energies surging through his loins, he pulled back from the junior officer, tugging on his tunic as he straightened to his full height, which was still almost a meter shorter than the helmsman.

Projecting an air of dispassionate authority in his voice, hoping the squeaking was just a figment of his imagination, Nog intoned. “I am sorry Ensign, but you need a Level Seven Security Clearance to have access to the ship’s cloaking device.”

Ensign Hetis pouted, her puffed out indigo lips looking more delicious than tube grubs. “Nobody has to know,” she smiled conspiratorially. “It can be between just you and me.” Within a split second, she had filled the gap he had created between them, heat and an alluring musk overloading his senses. The young officer had never shown any romantic interest in him before. If anything, he had seen her spending time with Lt. Easun. Perhaps the tensions rifling through the station following the appearance of the Dominion warship was creating strange behaviors among the crew. He shut off the dozens of questions running through his mind: Was the ensign really coming on to him? Was this a joke? Had the jokester Lt. Easun put her up to it? If so, why? Perhaps his Uncle Quark had some hand in it? Were they all taking bets on how he responded? And what about fraternization? Though the Ferengi in him felt that almost any sexual assignation was appropriate, his Starfleet training had taught him otherwise, and that combining work with pleasure was a dangerous mixture.

“I…can’t…allow that,” he managed to stammer, backing against a gunmetal wall, his heart pounding in his lobes.

“A pity,” Hetis’s playful pout turned into a hard frown. “I would’ve been very grateful.” She caressed his left ear, and he slumped against the wall, as waves of pleasure lapped over him. A deserted engine room, a beautiful, insatiable woman…. this was better than any holosuite his uncle had programmed.

“We can’t,” he breathed.

“I know,” she whispered back. “Because you ruined it.” Before the words had registered in his mind, a sharp pain shot through his ear. Eyes flapping open, he realized that the ensign was pinching his ear.

“Owwwww!” He wailed. “Stop that!” He tugged at her wrist, but her grip was like iron. There was a flash of silver and he saw the hypospray in her hand before she pushed it against his neck. A sharp sting was followed by a cool, numbing sensation traveling slowly down his body. Sliding to the floor, struggling to keep his eyes open, the last image Nog saw of Hetis wasn’t even Hetis at all. In her place was a beautiful Orion, her amber eyes radiating carnal fire.

“See what you missed out on?” She whispered before her image wavered to be replaced once again by that of Ensign Hetis. Nog passed out before he could respond.

USS Defiant

(Main Bridge)

Lt. Easun frowned. The dark skinned Deltan looked up from the Tactical console at Commander Dar. The graying XO had only came to the bridge minutes ago and appeared to already be engrossed in a status display inset on the armrest of the command chair. “Sir?”

After a few seconds Dar looked up at the much younger officer. Only the intricate web of lines across his face hinted at the commander’s advanced age. “Yes Mr. Easun?”

“Sir, the cloaking device is offline.”

“What?” The commander didn’t try to hide his surprise.

“Yes sir. My terminal just informed me that the device has been deactivated.” Easun pointed to the blinking red light on his interface as confirmation.

“Get me Mr. Nog,” Dar ordered the cadet at Operations. She looked up seconds later, confusion and apprehension in her eyes.

“No response sir.”

“Try him again.” The commander had leaned up in his seat, elbows on his knees. The cadet tried again, and nodded with disappointment a hairbreadth later.

“Computer, locate Mr. Nog.”

“Lt. Nog is in Main Engineering,” the computer replied.

“That’s odd,” Dar stroked his chin. “Is there a problem with his communicator?”

“Lt. Nog’s communicator is functioning within normal parameters.”

“Computer, why is the cloaking device offline? Did Lt. Nog disable it?”

“Unknown,” the computer answered the first inquiry, pausing a moment to digest the second. “Unknown.”

Easun’s chest tightened with fear. He had only recently arrived at the station when a band of Jem’Hadar infiltrators strafed the Bajoran village of Vehlo. With a whole shipload of Jem’Hadar now right outside the station, he couldn’t help but think they might have a hand in this mishap.

“Is Mr. Nog the only other person in Engineering?”

“Affirmative.”

“And you say that his communicator is functioning?”

“Affirmative.”

“Is he running a diagnostic or test that required him to take the cloak offline?”

“Negative.”

“Hmm.” Dar pondered. Unable to take the suspense, Easun rose out of his seat.

“Sir, permission to investigate?” He offered, anxious to untie the knot that waiting for the eventual scythe to fall had tied in his stomach.

Dar looked him, a twinkle in his eyes. “You’re too young to be so suspicious. I would prefer that you maintain your post Mr. Easun. With that Jem’Hadar ship out there, even if it is docked, I want our weapons systems primed and ready. I’ll go down to Engineering. I’m sure it’s nothing.” The commander smiled reassuringly.

“But sir?”

“That’s an order Lieutenant,” Dar replied, good-naturedly enough as he slid out of his seat and vacated the bridge.

*****************

USS Defiant

(Main Bridge)

Lt. Easun forced himself not to look at the chronometer. Though it had been less than ten minutes since Commander Dar had left the bridge, which meant that he might still be en route to Engineering, Easun still had to force himself not to open a communication link with the commander. Instead, he began wrapping his knuckles against his terminal, a valve to release his pent up nervous energy. Something just didn’t feel right. But he had to admit that he had felt that way ever since the Aegis had disembarked from the station with the Founder. Though he knew Captain Glover was a war hero, and the Aegis was one of the fleet’s most tactically advanced ships, he still would’ve felt better if the Defiant had been assigned the extradition. He couldn’t help but think things would’ve gone differently with Commander Dar at the helm and him at Tactical.

Wrapped in his own anxieties, he was oblivious to the groans and glares of his fellow crewmates at his incessant noise making. Only the swooshing of the aft door got his attention.

Commander Dar strolled through the entrance. Lt. Easun forced himself not to jump from his seat. “Sir!” He winced at the nervous pitch of his voice. “Is everything all right in Engineering? The cloak is still offline.”

The First Officer’s eyes narrowed as a scowl covered his face. “Lieutenant, what are you talking about? I’m just returning from the Ward Room. What happened in Engineering? What’s wrong with the cloak?”

Before Easun could reply, the scythe fell.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

USS Aegis

(Main Engineering)

Jasmine Glover tried to ignore the large plasma coolant tanks ringing the gently vibrating cylindrical warp core, its pulse causing the toxic liquid to slosh ominously, as she patched the Defiant’s pilfered cloaking device into Main Engineering’s computer. Her anxiety wasn’t helped by “Commander Bast”, the Orion impatiently tapping her foot behind her.

“Is it in?” She asked for the umpteenth time, her cool veneer thawing. Jasmine ran a spanner over the cloak before slowly getting to her knees. “Is it operational?”

“I think so,” she replied, wiping her damp forehead with her free hand.

“Think so?” The Orion pursed her ample lips. “This is not the time for guessing games Lieutenant.”

“Think so is good enough for me.” Cherenkov was hanging in the open door of Main Engineering, his face and uniform smudged in several places. Slade stood stoically behind him. “Is the device’s theta radiation emissions within safe parameters?”

“Yes.” He nodded with approval.

“Get these engines ready to go now Lieutenant.”

“Yes sir,” Jasmine swallowed her fear, shoving the frightful memories that hung about her like a shroud to the fore corners of her mind, as she turned to Master Display Console sitting in the middle of the room. She quickly ran a series of calculations, then commands. “Impulse engines activated sir,” she looked up, and forced herself not to flinch as the ship’s four-nacelle engines whined to life.

“Good work,” He tapped his combadge. “Bridge, this is Commander Cherenkov.”

“Rojas here.”

“Raise shields, ready phasers, and lay in a course for the Badlands maximum warp. I’ll be there shortly.”

“Aye sir.”

Cherenkov looked at Jasmine once again before waving for the Orion to follow him to the bridge. “We’re going to get him back Lieutenant. I promise.” The lieutenant merely nodded, unable to speak as her throat closed up with emotion, ashamed that she herself wasn’t as sure that she would ever see her husband alive again. The First Officer nodded once more before dashing down the hall, Sgt. Slade and the Orion following him.

Now alone in the cavernous, gloomy and empty Engine room, the steady thrum of the warp core her companion, chronometer, and judge, Jasmine slumped into one of the many vacant seats surrounding the core, wrapped her arms around her midsection, and let the hail of tears hit the interface unmolested.

Deep Space Nine

(Ward Room)

Colonel Kira’s communicator chirped the second after the trembling passed.

“What was that?” Commander T’San asked, gripping the edge of the Ward Room’s conference table.

“More Dominion treachery!” Sneered Captain Kreng of the I.K.S. JeqqIj, pouncing from his chair as he pointed an accusing dagger at Eilif. The two Jem’Hadar soldiers at the Vorta’s side moved to protect him, causing Nitala’Rax, heretofore standing quietly behind the colonel to move to intervene in the brewing melee.

“I can assure that my ship has nothing to do with this!” Eilif protested. Kira ignored them all. Hitting the combadge so hard she winced:

“Kira here!”

“Colonel, this is Commander Dar, the cloaking device on the Defiant has been stolen, by at least two persons impersonating myself and Ensign Thetis.”

“What?” She asked, stunned. Kreng, still standing, glared at the Vorta.

“Sounds like Changelings to me!”

“There were no Founders aboard our ship.”

“But you can’t verify that Changelings did not commit this attack, an attack on a Federation vessel at a Federation station, and the theft of a loaned Romulan cloaking device. Each act alone constitutes an act of war.” T’San replied, icy fury in her voice.

“And you can’t prove that a Founder did perpetrate this act,” Eilif answered.

“Not yet.” Kira, wary and skeptical of Eilif’s veracity, replied. “We will get to the bottom…” The lights flickered, and the station rattled again.

“What was that?” Dar asked, still online.

“You tell me,” the Bajoran quipped. The intercom buzzed before the room filled with tightened voice of Lieutenant Okala.

“Colonel Kira, the Aegis has raised shields and is trying to disembark from the station without authorization!”

“I told we were not at fault,” Eilif beamed. “I am sure that the Aegis is the source for all this commotion.”

“We’ll see,” Kira replied unsteadily. She spoke into the communicator on her right breast. “Mr. Dar, prepare the Defiant for battle.”

“Yes ma’am. Dar out.”

Looking up at the ceiling, she spoke in the direction of the intercom. “Hail them Lt. Okala. Once again, I’m on my way.”

USS Aegis

(Main Bridge)

On the verge of jettisoning his career along with twenty years of ingrained loyalty, all Cherenkov could think about as he slid into Captain Glover’s chair on the Main Bridge, was the small, black oval clipped to the slender waist of the Orion, whose real name he had learned was Elexa Liris. With a pinch of guilt for staring too long at the seductive operative, the First Officer asked, almost shyly. “That’s a portable hologenerator huh?”

“Wish we had had a couple of those on Kesprytt,” chimed Tai Donar, steady at work behind the Tactical Console.

“Me too,” the XO remarked.

“Deep Space Nine is hailing us,” Pell Ojana, manning the Ops station, informed him. “It’s Colonel Kira.”

“On screen.”

“Commander Cherenkov what are you doing?”

“Trying to save Captain Glover and prevent the Cardassians from starting another war.”

“You know that I can’t allow you to do that.”

“I don’t think you have any choice.”

“I’m not going to release the docking clamps, and I have reinforced the shielding around your ship. Tractor beams are also standing by. Plus, the Defiant is prepped and ready to go. In addition to that, this station is fully capable of taking on an armada of ships. Despite your ship’s tactical specialties, it would be hardly a match for that. Return the cloaking device and we’ll talk about this.”

“Talk about what? Now’s not the time for talking. It’s time for action. Release us or I will be forced to fire on DS9, and I don’t want to do that Colonel.”

“I have my orders, and you have yours. You know I can’t release the clamps.”

“So be it. I’m sorry Colonel.” Cherenkov sliced a stiff hand across his throat, a gesture Pell interpreted to sever communications.

“Sorry Nerys,” the Bajoran Diplomatic Officer said softly as she cut the link.

Cherenkov looked quickly around the nearly deserted bridge, now more alien with the lack of the usual bustle that he had become far too familiar and comfortable with during his brief tenure in Starfleet. Liris and Elfar sandwiched him, occupying his usual seat, along with Pell’s. Both had converted the consoles attached to their seats to tap into the ship’s computer to keep the ship working smoothly in the absence of hundreds of crewmembers.

A tense Donar awaited his orders at Tactical, while Jasmine had returned from Engineering to operate the bridge’s Engineering Station. Though he would’ve preferred that the lieutenant remain down below, he knew her history and he could be pleased enough that she had marshaled enough courage to go to Engineering at all, in such close proximity to its deadly radiation and plasma. Only Sgt. Slade appeared out of place. An infrequent visitor to the bridge, he sat idly at Environmental Controls, glancing ever so often with desire at Donar’s station.

“We handled our part, but was your mission successful?” Elfar asked.

“We’ll find out in about 30 seconds,” Cherenkov grated. He took a look behind him. Slade grinned from ear to ear, his hard black eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Deep Space Nine

(Operations Center)

“Colonel, we have a problem.” Lieutenant Okala Lahn replied, wrinkling her ridged nose as he latched on to his terminal as the station rumbled again.

“Really?” Kira quipped, the unsteady floor, knocking her into the rooted Nitala’Rax. His eyes narrowed with disapproval at the unexpected contact, but he said nothing. The colonel quickly righted herself. “Go on.”

Before the Bajoran science officer could reply, the colonel’s combadge beeped again.

“Dar here,” his voice was strained, harried.

“Yes?”

“Colonel, the Defiant’s systems have shut down.”

“What?”

“We’re dead in space.”

“How did that happen?”

“Lt. Nog’s best guess is that the imposters who stole the cloaking device also downloaded a cascade virus-variant into the ship’s computer core. From what we can tell, there’s no permanent damage. Just enough to allow the Aegis to effect a speedy escape.”

“Well that’s not going to happen,” Kira declared. “Get the Defiant up and running Commander.”

“Aye.”

“Uh…Colonel?” Kira rounded on the reticent science officer.

“What is it Lahn?” She snapped.

“Sensors indicate that the station’s fusion core has also been infected with a cascade virus.”

“Is the station in danger?”

“Not really sir.”

“Then what?” In response the station trembled again, and the lights, followed by every computer system went out, plunging the Operations Center, and no doubt the entire station into a fathomless, terrible darkness.

“That.” Lieutenant Okala murmured.

USS Aegis

(Main Bridge)

Cherenkov toggled a switch on the armrest to open a ship wide channel. “Good job everyone.” Despite the dire situation, taking action felt good. “Commander Pell, what about those docking clamps?”

“The moorings have automatically released once the station’s systems shut down. They’re going to have their hand’s full directing traffic for the un-tethered ships alone, without trying to contend with us too.”

“Lt. Rojas, take us out one quarter impulse. Prepare to go to warp at my mark.”

“Aye Commander.”

“Sir, Klingon, Romulan, and Dominion vessels are all powering their weapons and engines.” Tai Donar’s gruff announcement put a damper on the First Officer’s mood.

“Not a problem. Raise shields.” He swiveled the chair around to look at Lt. Glover, hunched over the Engineering Console. “Lt. Glover, engage the cloaking device.”

“Yes sir.” The lights dimmed as the cloak came online, draining an inordinate amount of power from the ship’s systems. Even the regular beeping, whirring, and thrumming of the ship’s computers became quieter, more solemn. “Cloaking device is engaged.”

“Let’s get the hell out of here then. Warp 5 on my mark.” Before he finished giving the order, the bridge shuddered.

“That was a disruptor blast,” he replied, looking over at Lt. Donar. “Damage report!”

“No damage. Shields holding. It was a warning shot I guess. From the Klingon ship.”

“How can they see us through the cloak?”

“We are using a Romulan cloaking device, and there is a Romulan ship out there. Also, Klingon cloaking technology is similar, and the Dominion long ago devised an anti-proton scan to counter the effect of the cloaking device.” The Angosian surmised.

“Damn.” He turned next to Naim. “So, why did we need a cloaking device in the first place?”

“It wasn’t intended for this stage of the game. Only to elude Razad Kor’s weapons platforms.”

“Oh.” Cherenkov nodded. “Lt. Glover, deactivate cloak. Let’s show them what Aegis is capable of.” The lights flickered to full intensity seconds later as the ship’s systems returned to full power. “Sgt. Slade, inform your men in the middle and lower hulls to prepare for tri-separation.”

From the Environmental Console, Slade quickly tapped the commands into the interface. “You got it.” He replied seconds later. “My soldiers are moving into position now.”

Cherenkov paused for almost a minute. “Mr. Donar. Initiate multi-vector assault mode.”

IKS JeqqIj

(Command Bridge)

Seconds after coalescing on the bridge of the JeqqIj, Colonel Kira Nerys regretted her next decision. “Captain Kreng, disable that ship with whatever force you have to.” She ordered.

The robust Klingon glared at her for her impertinence, before whipping his head around to shout at the corpulent female manning the Weapons Console. “B’Hel, BaH!” Crimson fire erupted against the shields of the sleek Aegis.

“Report!” Kreng said as he plopped down in his command chair, the colonel taking up position beside him. B’Hel turned in her seat, sweat streaming down her dusky face.

“Shields holding. Minimal damage.”

“Fire again! This time use photon torpedoes.” B’Hel jerked her jowly head before turning to initiate the order. Kira both heard and felt the release of two torpedo launchers. Kreng clutched his fist in triumph when they connected, the intensity of their twin detonation briefly overwhelming the light filters for the attack cruiser’s main viewer. The colonel covered her eyes, peeking through the fingers of her hand after several seconds.

“Now that should’ve gotten their attention Captain,” she replied. “Hail them.” The Klingon looked at her askance, irritation dulling his bloodlust.

“You don’t give orders on my ship Colonel.”

“We don’t want the ship destroyed remember. They’re not the enemy, they’re just disobeying orders.”

“I know who the enemy is Colonel,” he paused, rifling off an order in rapid-fire Klingon. The main viewer split three ways, with images of T’San’s Romulan warbird, Enyama, and the Dominion warship closing in the beleaguered Aegis, each releasing another salvo at the ship’s crumbling engines before backing off. “But I wonder if you still do.” He spoke in Klingon again before turning back to her. “Channel is open.”

“Commander Cherenkov, desist from this course of action or we will have to disable your ship. You’re surrounded. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be. This is your last chance.” She folded her arms and waited for a response.

Almost a minute later, Cherenkov responded. And not the way she had expected or hoped. A thrill of fascination coursed through her as the Aegis quickly split apart, into three autonomous sections, each with weapons blazing. Kira reached out and grasped Kreng’s chair to keep from hitting the deck as the ship’s primary hull, containing the bridge, unleashed a barrage at the JeqqIj. The secondary hull engaged the Enyama while the tertiary hull, containing the ship’s main warp core, fired at the Dominion vessel.

“That’s your answer Colonel,” Kreng crowed as he marveled at the tactical feat. “This will be a glorious battle.”

Biting back a curse as the attack cruiser was pummeled again, Kira replied. “It will be many things, but glorious won’t be one of them.”

USS Defiant

(Main Bridge)

Pounding the armrest of his chair, Ousanas Dar peered at the Defiant’s main viewer, about the only piece of equipment still functioning on the crippled warship, with undisguised frustration, and hidden envy. The stars before him lit up with the bright flashes and soundless wails of battle as the Aegis took on three warships, each section of the marvelous ship using its speed and maneuverability to confound its much larger and powerful opponents. He stabbed the comchannel button on his armrest.

“How much longer will it take for the Defiant to be up and running?” He asked Lt. Nog?” for the umpteenth time.

“Two hours, three at the most sir.” The young Ferengi’s voice sounded weary beyond its years, even beyond Dar’s.

He squashed another criticism and softened his voice. “Thank you for your hard work Lieutenant, carry on.”

“Thank you sir.” Nog replied before severing the link.

“What about weapons Mr. Easun?”

“Even longer sir. Five hours max.”

“Damn.” He cursed. “I guess we’re going to have to sit this one out.”

USS Aegis

(Main Engineering)

Jasmine froze with fear as a tendril of energy ran through her console, knocking her from her seat, before curling around the plasma tanks.

Stunned, scared, and drenched in memories of unbearable pain. She had returned to the engineering section to transfer the cloaking device to the bridge via intra-ship transport, and oversee the ship’s engines during the escape of her own accord. She had bitten back her terror, allowing her love for Terrence to override her senses, a feeling of immersion that she hadn’t given into since the Mandela’s fateful return from Gehenna’s gates.

Rough hands pulled her to her feet. Back to reality. Sgt. Slade’s dark eyes looked her over, scouring her body for signs of injury. “Are you okay ma’am?”

“Yes.” She said after a pause to check for herself. Only her uniform, with a jagged burn mark across the chest area, courtesy of the surge, was the worst for wear. “The engines? The warp core?”

“The consoles are fried. The automated system couldn’t withstand the heavy weapons fire.”

“I can’t believe that Colonel Kira would allow them to unload on us like that.”

“I don’t think the Colonel’s in the driver’s seat.” The deck plates rattled beneath them. Jasmine rushed to the blackened controls.

“Engines offline,” she mumbled, more to herself than to the sergeant or the other five members of his Marine team, one of which was propped against the master systems display, nasty burn marks marring the Bolian’s azure face. A Long-term Medical Hologram was already attending the wounded man’s injuries. “Shields are down. What do we do?”

“What we’re supposed to,” Slade grumbled, his shoulders slumping. “Surrender.”

USS Aegis

“Why do Romulans have to be so damned eager?” Commander Pell Ojana quipped as a green disruptor blast sizzled past her head.

“I couldn’t tell you even after living among them for twenty odd years,” Corporal DeSeve replied, his pale skin moist with perspiration. He dabbed his forehead before peering again into the corridor leading to the secondary hull’s auxiliary battle bridge. He fired several shots into the darkness, grunting with satisfaction when he heard a muffled scream followed by a dull thud.

“Oh.” Pell said, quickly popping off a few shots of her own, when DeSeve pulled back to check his phaser rifle’s power coil. Ducking from another angry barrage, the Bajoran leaned in close to the Marine. “We can’t keep this up forever,” she whispered.

Somehow the Romulans had been able to perforate the secondary hull’s shields and beam in an assault team. She knew Terrence and the others were going to rag her about it later on for allowing her defenses to be so easily overtaken. Or at least she hoped so.

“We’ve got to hold them off at least for a few more minutes. Give the Commander time to escape,” DeSeve huffed, his blond hair matted against his head. Sensing her scrutiny, he shrugged, adding. “Haven’t done this in a long time,” he smiled nervously.

“I hope Cherenkov knows what he’s doing,” Pell grumbled, setting her phaser to maximum stun as she heard the thunderous rush of boots pounding up the corridor. “Well, let’s give him those minutes.” She replied as she jumped from behind the bend, her phaser blasting into the phalanx.

USS Aegis

(Main Bridge)

“Slade and Pell’s teams have been subdued,” Tai Donar replied, reading the reports flashing across his terminal display.

“I don’t need a computer to tell me that,” Cherenkov replied, instantly smiling at the irony as he looked at the scene before him on the main viewer. “Well actually,” he started to correct himself. “Never mind.”
“It’s just us and the Klingons now,” Liris replied, leaning seductively back in her seat, her curvaceous body tense with anticipation.

“Just the way I like it,” the First Officer replied.

IKS JeqqIj

“They can’t be serious?” Kreng laughed. After a few moments his mirth turned to concern when his crew didn’t join in. Commander Darga, halfway out of his chair at the Helm station, repeated his previous statement.

“The primary hull is on a collision course. Full impulse!”

“Full reverse Kreng!” Kira screamed as Aegis’s arrow-headed bow bared down on them. “Evasive maneuvers!”

“You are not the captain, I am!” Kreng repeated, his eyes boring into the testy Bajoran. “If I have to remind you again, Khitomer Accords be damned…” He growled, “Besides, they can’t be serious. We’re ‘allies’ remember? Such an impact would seriously damage both ships. We will play this out. I am sure that he will relent first.”

Seconds later, Aegis veered sharply left. “See, I was correct. He didn’t have the stomach for battle. Darga lay in a pursuit…” His words were drowned out by a wailing proximity alarm, followed by the frenzied pitching of the bridge to the portside wing of the ship. The Bajoran flew across the bridge, along with several other warriors and any other equipped not bolted down to crash against the port sidewall of the ship. She fell in a heap at the base of the wall. The bridge shuddered and spun wildly, the shrieking of metal slicing through his ears. Terminals sparked, plasma coolant spewed, raining acidic devastation.

Only Kreng’s indomitable will kept him where he belonged, in the command seat. “What was that?” Somehow Darga too had retained his seat. The captain didn’t know whether to be impressed or worried. If they survived this, he promised to keep his eye on his skillful second. “Report Commander.”

Darga spat out several teeth, thick dark blood splaying over his console before he turned to the captain. “Our starboard nacelle is gone?”

“Nuq?”

“The Aegis, when it broke off its collision course, it sheared off our starboard wing.”

“Where is Aegis now?”

“Gone.”

“Gone?”

“Yes milord.” Kreng clambered down from his seat, stepping over a prone warrior, and pushing Darga out of the way as he looked at the information, or lack thereof, on the First Officer’s display screen. Still unbelieving, he scowled at the main viewer, where he only saw the victorious Dominion and Romulan ships with their prizes. And he had nothing. No honor had been won here today. No victory. His name would never adorn the Hall or Warriors, and House Kreng would never be immortalized in the Hall of Heroes. He had been outsmarted, out maneuvered by a human who didn’t even have the decency or honor to kill him so he could at least have died with honor and spent eternity in Sto-Vo-Kor.

The human had spared him, spitting in his face, consigning him to a living death. Peering into the vast, empty stars, his hatred burning as brightly as the fires of Kri’stak, he quietly swore vengeance. “BortaS blr jablu’DI’reH QaQqu’nay.’” (“Revenge is a dish best served cold.”)

CHAPTER TWELVE

Razad Kor

The confession was more painful than anything Darcis had or could ever do to him; because it was true.

The Past…

The Cuffe streaked into Cardassian space, the tip of Destroyer Group Three’s deadly spear.

Despite the recent setbacks the Federation, Klingons, and Romulans had suffered at the hands of the new Dominion-Breen alliance, the most painful for him being the attack on Earth and the loss of the Chin’toka system, Starfleet had endured, and now they were on the cusp of total victory.

Destroyer Group Three, along with a coterie of Romulan warbirds, was charged with pacifying the Amleth System, clearing it to make way for the rest of the Fifth Fleet to charge into Cardassian space, linking up hopefully with old Ben Sisko above Cardassia Prime.

“Literally canaries in a mine,” Glover had remarked when Admiral Ross had doled out his assignment. The comment had elicited a small smirk from the bulky admiral.

“You could say that Captain,” he had remarked. “Hopefully you’ll encounter only good air.”

Peering at the cordon of ships surrounding the planet Loval, Captain Glover loudly snapped his fingers, muttering, “Wrong again Bill.”

“Huh sir?” A tense Cherenkov was on the edge of his seat.

“Never mind.” He waved away the comment and question, turning to the Tactical Station. “Tactical Report Mr. Meldin”.

The Benzite Tactical Officer, sans breather, peered over the console at the screen. “Two Breen Dreadnaughts, three Galor-class battle cruisers, six Hideki-class destroyers, and a raft of Jem’Hadar attack ships and Son’a scouts.”

“One big happy family,” Ensign Rojas muttered.

“Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us. Let’s get to it.” The Cuffe rushed headlong into the din.

The Past…

Within three hours the battle was over, several of the Cardassian and Son’a ships had fled inexplicably after the Breen Dreadnaughts had finally succumbed, leaving the Jem’Hadar to fight the Destroyer Group alone. Despite their penchant for ruthless courage, they fought onward to the last man. All to no avail. The Warbird Avis robbed Glover of the honor of wiping the last attack ship from the skies above Loval.

“Sorry to deny you your prize,” lied Commander Hesporian, his smile predatory.

“There’ll be another time Commander.” Terrence dipped his head in mock respect.

“Of course there will be,” Hesporian affirmed, before he and his ship were vaporized. The Cuffe veered haphazardly as Ensign Rojas engaged in evasive maneuvers, wisely avoiding waiting to be told to do so.

Blinking as his boastful rival dissolved before his eyes, Glover swung half out of his seat, looking wild eyed at his bridge officers. “Someone tell me what just happened?”

“It came from the planet...” Science Officer Seb N’Saba answered, finally. “Some kind of concentrated vadion pulse.”

“I thought that harnessing vadion energy was in the infancy stages,” the captain probed the Alshain. His flattened snout twitching with consternation, the snappy canid responded.

“I guess you were wrong.”

“It wasn’t the first time,” Glover remarked, pushing his anger at the Science Officer’s impertinence temporarily to the side, “and hopefully it will be the last. Options people?”

“I suggest we retreat, regroup, and figure out how to get past that thing,” Cherenkov remarked. “It appeared to cut quite a swath through the Destroyer Group.”

“Back us out, just out of range of that thing Juanita.”

“Aye sir,” she replied, tapping in instructions, before she abruptly stopped. Looking up at him, face knotted with confusion, she asked. “Captain what is the range of that pulse?” Without responding, he looked at N’Saba. The Alshain merely shrugged.

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

***

Commander Sirol, master of the Warbird Terix, was shorter than Terrence had expected. The portly Romulan looked up at him, his prominently ridged brow hooding his eyes, giving his cherubic face an ominous cast.

“I always knew that Hesporian’s zealousness would be the death of him. The fallacy of youth I suppose,” he remarked, with no hint of sadness at the death of his fellow officer and the hundreds of crew aboard the Avis.

Glover squashed his own disgust at the Romulan’s dispassionate response. Instead he gestured for the Romulan, along with his adjunct, to take a seat opposite his own at the head of the conference table in Cuffe’s observation lounge. Cherenkov, Meldin, N’Saba, Chief Engineer Uhnari, and Operations Officer Gralf were already seated.

“Mr. N’Saba, report.”

After the obstreperous Alshain distilled the history and projected benefits and dangers of vadion energy experimentation, Glover had opened up the floor to discussion, a rarity for his crew that for once they didn’t lap up.

It was Sirol that devised the plan that Terrence finally endorsed.

“We have Scorpion<