Star Trek Aegis: The Valley of PeacePart III

by DarKush

In Part 3, the crew of Starship Aegis takes on DS9, the USS Defiant, the Klingons, Romulans, and Dominion in a desperate gambit to rescue Captain Glover before renegade Cardassians pass sentence on him for his role in the Dominion War.

III

EXORCISMS

CHAPTER TEN

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 Tripartite Interim Governing Coalition."

"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.

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.

"But several starships-the Gibraltar, Lumumba, Abubakari, and Robert Lawrence-are combing possible escape routes, several of them leading 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 Kobak 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."

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.

"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 Aegis's Marine contingent.

"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. "You're 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."

"Can I see it?" Ensign Thetis, the Defiant's new conn officer, purred, "Please?" The striking Andorian 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 the 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 Thetis 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. You could never tell with hew-mons, he surmised. He shut off the dozens of questions running through his mind: Was the ensign really coming on to him? Was this a joke? Had Lt. Okala or 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," Thetis'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 Thetis wasn't even Thetis 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 Thetis. Nog passed out before he could respond.

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 Rena. 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.

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

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.

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 Kobak 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. Kobak, 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."

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.

"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.

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."

Seconds after coalescing on the bridge of the JeqqIj, Colonel Kira Nerys regretted her next decision. "Captain Kobak, 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!" Kobak 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. Kobak 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 Kobak'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," Kobak 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."

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."

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."

"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 20 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.

"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," Elexa Liris replied, leaning seductively back in her seat, her curvaceous body tense with anticipation.

"Just the way I like it," the First Officer replied.

"They can't be serious?" Kobak 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 Kobak!" Kira screamed as Aegis's arrow-headed bow bared down on them. "Evasive maneuvers!"

"You are not the captain, I am!" Kobak 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 Kobak'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." Kobak 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 Kobak 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

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

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. Marizn".

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.

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 WarbirdAvis 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 nose twitching with consternation, the snappy felinoid 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 ofthat 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 fallacyof 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, Marizn, 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 fighters, and your ships have deployments of Peregrine interceptors." Sirol had begun, drawing in his shoulders, as his deep voice grew quietly conspiratorial. "I propose that we use our fighters to locate and eliminate the source of the vadion pulse."

"But isn't that too risky?" the Arboreal Xindi Gralf, asked. "If that beam vaporized a D'deridex-class warbird, then it could mince smaller, less shielded craft. With all respect sir, your plan could be inviting a slaughter."

"But that's the point," Sirol replied. "Our starships and warbirds are perhaps too easy targets for the vadion pulse. To marshal a weapon of such size and power, something had to be sacrificed. I posit that its accuracy and maneuverability might be its weaknesses. At the very least, this theory should be tested before it is discarded."

"So, you think that we should 'test a theory' with people's lives?" Gralf asked, incredulous. "Not only would our pilots be at risk, but intelligence records indicate that there is a thriving civilian population on Loval, in addition to its military research facility. Even the cleanest surgical strike will result in indiscriminate killing of countless innocent civilians."

"Collateral damage," scoffed Sirol's aide.

"Nobody's life is collateral," Gralf shot back hotly.

Sirol ignored them both. "Captain, do you always let your subordinates question your decisions in such a manner?"

"When I need it, yes," Glover grated. "But there is no need for further discussion. The entirety of the Fifth Fleet will be passing through this sector of space within 10 hours on its march to Cardassia Prime. That weapon has to be disabled before then. If it isn't, it could pick off the fleet ships at a time. I say we'll go with Commander Sirol's plan unless something better comes along. Meeting adjourned."

Glover hated the static more than the screams. On the edge of his seat, the intercom filling the bridge with the sounds of the battle displayed on the main viewer, he forced himself to look at every second of the slaughter.

A hidden swarm of Jem'Hadar fighters had came from around the planet, carving into the hapless Romulan and Starfleet fighters.

The captain had given the order for the fighters to fall back, and had been forced to wade into the thick to shield as many of the Peregrines and Scorpions as he could, with his fellow taskforce ships following suit.

The vadion pulse had started up again, belching oblivion at the unfortunate ships-Federation, Romulan, or Jem'Hadar-that found themselves in its wide, voracious path.

Losing too many, he thought, his mind blocking out the number of casualties Lt. N'Saba read from his terminal.

Reaching deep inside himself, binding his humanity, he gave the only order that he could. "Initiate General Order 24."

All motion froze on the bridge as each of officer, noncom, and cadet lapsed momentarily in their duties to stare at him.

"General Order 24?" Cherenkov repeated, mouthing the question after saying it. "But that…"

"That authorizes us to raze the surface of Loval." Gralf replied. "There are hundreds of thousands of Cardassians down there, many of them innocent citizens. There's got to be another way captain."

"If there is, you've got five seconds to name it." The Arboreal merely shook his shaggy head, appalled.

"But shouldn't we run this by Starfleet Command for authorization? The order can only be implemented after a considerable time has been passed, without Starfleet Command interdicting the order." N'Saba asked.

"There's no time. Do it Mr. Marizn." The Benzite hesitated. The first time he had ever done so.

"You heard me."

"But Captain," he pleaded.

"This is a war. We have standing orders to clear a path for the incoming Fifth Fleet and that's what I'm going to do. If it has to be either them or us, I choose us. Evoke General Order 24. Mr. Gralf, pass the information along to the taskforce."

"I cannot."

"Then you are relieved." Gralf stood stiffly out of his seat, a cadet moving quickly to assume it.

"Send the message." The cadet complied.

"I must lodge a formal protest," N'Saba rose out of his own seat.

"Noted, and you are relieved as well. And both of you are restricted to quarters until we reach Cardassia Prime. Mr. Cherenkov please escort them to their domiciles." The Russian slid out of his seat, his hand hovering, unnecessarily, over the phaser clipped on his waist, as he herded to two officers into the turbolift.

"Now Mr. Marizn," Glover exhaled. "Fire…"

"I was cleared of any wrongdoing by a formal inquiry," Terrence whispered.

"A Starfleet board of inquiry?" Glinn Sulle purred, her rasp almost seductive.

"Yes."

"So, you've never had to answer to the Cardassian people for your crimes. The murder of hundreds of thousands of noncombatants when you ordered your Destroyer Group to reduce Loval to cinders?"

"It wasn't a crime," he protested weakly, his anger suddenly pouring out of him. "It was war…a military decision."

"Yes," she smiled. "So it was. And we don't begrudge you for taking up arms against the Cardassian Union or Dominion, of defending your homeland. That is we do every day. In fact, we applaud you for that." Sulle paused, catching her breath as she circled him. Despite the humidity in the cramped cave, Glover felt deeply, intensely cold. "That's not the issue," she crowed as she shoved the padd she had been clutching painfully against his tender chest. "The slaughter, the genocide of an entire colony of Cardassian citizens is what concerns us today. Take it Captain!" She pressed the padd harder into his chest. "Take it! The names and pictures of many of the dead are listed here for your perusal. Also, there are images of the aftermath of the devastation you wreaked."

"No…" he shook his head, blood rushing in his ears, "No." Glover turned away from it, looking for release, succor from any quarter, but finding none. Behind him, off to his right sat a bound and muzzled Molok, the battered Klingon's fire now dim, a similarly tied up Keta, her eyes glassy from Darcis's drugs, and the Founder, her skin cracked and peeling under the strain of the inhibitor field encasing her body. Gul Keshet, sitting in judgment, had leaned forward on the bench, his eyes bright and his nostrils flaring at the smell of Glover's fear. Darcis still clung to the shadows, his large form heaving with quiet, mocking laughter.

With unsurprising strength, Sulle grabbed Terrence by the head; inadvertently digging clawed fingers into the still unhealed wound left by the rifle butt he had received during Keta's trial. Holding his head steady, his guilt, hunger, and shame robbing him of the strength to resist her, she pushed the padd up to his face. "Look at it Captain! Look at them! They had dreams, lives, worked, loved, struggled to make ends meet, and wanted better things for their children. And you took that away from them. You can call it many things, but it wasn't a 'military decision'. The inquiry testimony of your subordinate officers N'Saba and Gralf clearly attest to that fact. You made a choice. You chose to murder innocent lives with the full knowledge of what you were doing. Don't hide behind duty or loyalty or honor. These are things that Cardassians understand, these are things that we can forgive, but never this, never this!" The image of a blackened, headless torso-a child's body- burned into his soul.

I did that? He vigorously shook his head, refusing to believe it. The Cardassians were renowned for their ability to doctor images, to manipulate information. This had to be some trick, some propaganda, he concluded, knowing that he would have to regurgitate the lie again and again for the remainder of his short life.

"The Bajorans could probably ask you the same question," he snapped, feeling better than he should have at finally being able to bite back.

"Terrible things were done during the Occupation," Sulle agreed, sadly shaking her head. "Terrible. But the Bajorans were left in a better position after our withdrawal than we found them. Can we say the same about you and your cohorts now? Our new masters, each with the blood of untold Cardassians on their hands. We apologized. We made amends. Have you? Will you?" Sulle turned away from him to look directly into the row of cameras now placed in the back of the cavern. "Citizens of Cardassia, our occupiers continue to castigate us over Bajor, but ask them when they will leave our planet, relinquish our systems, when they will stop occupying us, and you will be met with the silence of the tomb. They mean for Cardassia to be our tomb, but we have the power to decide otherwise. Any power that would brush off such brazen murder of innocent Cardassians doesn't have our best interests in mind. Glover and many other officers should stand trial alongside the Changeling for what they did and continue to do to our people. But of course they can't police themselves; that is where their hypocrisy trumps their so-called objectivity. Captain Glover should be in chains, not commanding one of the most deadly starships in their Starfleet. Do you see how highly they think of you?" She paused, sucking in a great gulp of air, before pointing dramatically at the captain. "Only here, within these walls will Glover and the other child killers like him receive the justice they deserve! I submit my case Archon."

"That information was classified, the inquiry proceedings sealed. How did you obtain it?" Glover asked, the thought just coming to him, fighting its way through his shock and horror. Something larger was going on here. And he had been too dulled by pain to see it. "Answer me!" He demanded; falling from his chair as his weak legs struggled to move the leg irons latched around his ankles.

"I don't have to answer anything!" Sulle shot back. "In fact the accused are not allowed to ask questions. Once again, your lack of respect for Cardassian culture manifests itself. I am done with you Captain Glover." Leaning in close to him, her rasp soft in his ear. "My Coris smiles with me this day."

Scaly hands once again grabbed him before he could respond. "There's something going on here!" he screeched before he was pulled out of the cavern into the darkness of a side tunnel. Shoved against a wall, he held back the tears and screams as long as possible as the guards pummeled him into unconsciousness.

At the close of the day's trial, Shau Darcis retired to his room, sweeping it for any listening or monitoring devices not his own before sitting down at his computer. He was late for his check-in with Viredis, but he couldn't simply stand by and allow regular Cardassian soldiers to savage Captain Glover without getting in a few hits. He could be such a glutton sometimes.

Licking the pathetic human's tangy red blood off his knuckles, Darcis scrambled the incoming communication with his other hand before opening the channel.

"You're late. Where have you been?"

Darcis sighed. "Don't start in. You act more as if we're bond mates than partners. Are you interested in a dalliance Viredis? I've always been curious about Romulans, such passion your people possess."

The Tal Shiar agent snorted derisively. "Don't delude yourself Darcis." His hawkish eyes bored into him. "Our schedule will have to be amended."

"Why?" All conviviality fell from his face and voice. "What has transpired?"

"My sources report that the Aegis, or at least one part of it is headed to the Badlands, the crew in search of their missing captain. We can only assume that they know the location of Razad Kor."

"But how is that possible?" Darcis asked, already knowing the answer: Mesec, sweet, lovely Mesec. His paramour before Pretar. In the aftermath of many of their sessions, enthralled in fading passion, he had revealed the proximate location of their base. And the boy had told Starfleet, no doubt under duress. Perhaps through torture. His face darkened at the thought.

Viredis regarded him quietly for several seconds. He started to speak, shut his mouth, and waited another several seconds before finally saying. "How they found out is irrelevant. If they know Razad Kor's location, even at their best speed, 9.9, it would take them three days to get there. We will be there in one."

"But what about the trial? It has two more days, and then a third for the executions. Don't you still want to pin the Changeling's abduction and disappearance on Keshet?"

"That too is irrelevant now in light of this unfortunate turn of events. Taking the Founder into our custody is our paramount concern. You know what to do Shau Darcis. I shall see you in a day."

"But," Darcis began, but the terminal screen had already gone dark. Even despite their vaunted Right of Statement, Romulans had no respect for the theatricality of a good trial. It was the one virtue Keshet possessed that Darcis admired. It will be missed, he sighed as he got up from his desk, and calmly walked to his closet, pulling from a hollowed groove hidden within its polished rodinium wall, the necessary tools to disable the station's defensive systems.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Kira winced as she probed the tender, purplish whelp running the length of her forehead, warding off Dr. Girani, the station's junior Medical Officer, who had moved to intercept her, a medical tricorder in her hand.

"Attend to the prisoners," she ordered, not meaning to sound as harsh as she did. But she couldn't help it. The stunt the Aegis senior staff pulled, several of which now languished in the station's detention center, had been reckless, foolhardy, and too provocative in the tinderbox environment created by the True Way.

Though she sympathized with Commander Cherenkov and his determination to rescue Captain Glover, she couldn't condone it, especially his willful sabotage of the station and the Defiant, leaving Bajor defenseless for hours against any Dominion assault.

"So, are you going to talk Pell?" She asked, folding her arms, boot tapping loudly against the metal plating.

"What do you want me to say Nerys?" Pell Ojana sat on one of the cots jutting from the wall of the cell, sandwiched between Amoros, the ship's pensive Chief Medical Officer, and the eerily detached Ensign Lomar. Chief Engineer Uhnari sat on the floor, body taunt in a trance like state, and Jasmine Glover, the captain's wife sat in the far corner of the small cell, her back to the colonel. The other cells were filled with the Marines captured when the secondary and tertiary hulls of the Aegis were returned to the station. The rest of the crew was being detained in several of the station's cargo bays.

"For starters, where is Cherenkov headed?"

"I think you know where, if not the exact location." She answered matter-of-factly. Looking around the cell, she added. "You know that Dr. Amoros, Chief Uhnari, and Ensign Lomar had nothing to do with this. Also, the rest of the Aegis crew had no knowledge of this." In response, Amoros shifted his furry head to glare at the Bajoran diplomatic officer, his broad nostrils flaring.

"They'll be released…after a thorough investigation." Kira regretted playing hardball with her old associate, but she knew that being too lenient was out of the question. The Klingons alone were demanding vengeance for the damage to the JeqqIj, and she had had to throw both T'San and Eilif out of her office after refusing their heated demands to interrogate the starship's senior officers. "Perhaps if you gave me something to work with, I could speed that up."

Shrugging her shoulders. "Well, I see no need to keep this going. Can we talk in private-just you and me?"

Kira nodded at Lt. Daneeka. The Security Chief pressed a button on the cell's companel, its forcefield shimmering off. Pell stepped through the barrier.

"We'll talk in my office," the colonel offered.

Back in her office, ensconced behind her desk, Kira stretched. Picking up the baseball left by her former commander Sisko, she turned it around in her hands for several seconds, admiring its pitted surface, trying to get her thoughts together. Finally, she said "Pell that was a pretty good resistance fighter imitation you pulled out there. Want to tell me why?"

Pell smiled wanly. "Though I never fought in the Resistance, my husband Soyam did. He shared a lot of stories with me before the Cardassians killed him." Her eyes crinkled at the bittersweet memory. "I've been trying to keep his legacy alive ever since."

"That can't be what this is about," the colonel declared.

"It can't?" Pell challenged. "Soyam was a teacher before the he joined the Resistance. He loved children so much, wanted them more than I did. And he so thought his taking up arms against the Cardassians raping our planet would one day bring peace. And it was in that spirit that Cherenkov and the rest of us countermanded the admiral's orders. The chronometer is ticking. If the Founder is executed, there will be a Dominion reprisal the likes of which we haven't seen since the war. A taskforce prepared to meet renewed Dominion aggression only recent left the station. Don't you think any Dominion response will trigger an appropriately savage allied response, with Bajor caught in the crossfire?"

"Of course I do," Kira agreed. "But pulling reckless stunts, not showing a unified front against the Dominion, leaving the station defenseless for hours on end, and denying Bajor the use of two starships to defend it, are all inexcusable."

"What's done is done," Pell surmised.

"Well, maybe it can be undone," Kira, replied.

"What do you mean?" The diplomatic officer's brows knit with suspicion.

"You're not just going to tell me where the Aegis is going, you're going to show me."

"Sam."

"Ousanas." The admiral said with noticeably reduced enthusiasm. "This must not be good news."

"No, it isn't. Commander Cherenkov has disobeyed orders and hijacked the Aegis. We believe he is taking it into the Badlands to find your son." Dar held up a hand to stop the admiral from commenting. "And what's worse, two operatives from your Department, each with Level 9 clearance helped him do it."

"I know," he grumbled. Dar's upswept eyebrows almost touched the top of his head in shock.

"You knew?"

"Not about the commander disobeying orders," Admiral Glover answered. "But the operatives. I knew. They're Section 31."

"Section 31?" The commander's voice dropped an octave, as an arctic chill wound through him. With a decades spanning background in Starfleet Intelligence, Dar had made it a personal vendetta to dismantle the rogue intelligence outfit that often did as much damage to the Federation and its ideals as it claimed to protect.

"One of their operatives approached me. Captain Tryla Scott."

"Tryla," Dar gasped. "No. I can't believe it."

"You don't have to believe it Ousanas," Glover snapped, prompting an old pain to spring in the commander's heart. The admiral had never forgiven him for his role in collecting the faulty intelligence on the Ghorusdans that had led to his dead wife's tarnished career. And Dar couldn't blame him. Along with the many victories he had accrued during his long years of service, there had been terrible tragedies, the Ghorusda Disaster ranking among one of the highest on the too long blacklist. "I feigned ignorance of them of course. I don't know if she believed me or not. She revealed to me that the Cardassian militants, this True Way splinter faction in particular, have a mysterious benefactor, one that Section 31 feels is trying to destabilize the reconstruction process to reap the spoils of a defeated Cardassia Union all for themselves."

"The Klingons or Romulans?"

"I said 'mysterious' Ousanas."

"So, you just decided to go along with this? You took her on her word?"

"Despite her affiliation, Tryla Scott has proven herself loyal to the Federation. Plus, she and Terrence are old friends. She would not be a part of something that would hurt him. And truthfully, I thought Section 31 had a better chance to save my son in time than SI or even Starfleet. Less red tape and scrutiny."

"Yeah, but more illegality and unaccountability."

"A trade off I am willing to make this time."

"Well you know I can't sit idly by and allow Section 31 to get away with whatever they're hatching. Despite Captain Scott's personal feelings towards your son, Section 31 always has an ulterior motive. And Captain Glover might be a priority, but I can assure you that he is not at the top of their list."

Admiral Glover nodded. "That's why I'm supplying you with the last update I received from them." He paused as he looked down, gazing back at the screen a few seconds later. "You should be receiving the information…about now."

Dar's computer monitor split, a line of encoded information running along Admiral Glover's face. "Got it." Glover replied with a tight-lipped smile.

"Godspeed Ousanas." The admiral's eyes glistened with tears. "Just bring my son back."

"I'll do my best sir," Dar said, and he meant it.

"What are we looking like Lt. Rojas?" Cherenkov, extra spanner in hand, asked the junior helmsman, as she placed the slick interface surface back over her terminal.

"The forward sensor array is shot to hell," the young woman replied, dark smudges across her face. "Our navigational deflector is iffy at best, and so is our forward shielding, the bow's going to need a hammer to be straightened out after that stunt we pulled. Our impulse thrusters have also been damaged, limiting maneuverability. But she'll fly."

"That's good to know," the First Officer remarked, handing her the spanner before he walked up the Engineering Console. A panel had been removed from the terminal's bottom, the glowing sphere of the cloaking device shoved within, a latticework of wiring enveloping it. "Are you sure that's going to work?" He asked the Orion, his face marked with skepticism. "Or are you trying to irradiate us all?"

"Radiation poisoning is a small price to pay to save the Federation," Liris said, her beautiful features so deadpan, the Russian didn't know whether to chuckle or cry. He did neither.

"Mr. Donar, status of weapons?"

"Weapons systems are fully operational."

"That's good to hear. What about the other ship's systems?" Cherenkov flicked his gaze to Elfar, hunched over the console normally occupied by Lt. Glover.

"The latest Level 4 diagnostic has revealed nothing untoward," the Trill declared.

"Now that's really good to hear."

"Well this might not be sir," Rojas replied. He turned around in response. Two blips, barely recognizable were on the main viewscreen.

"Lieutenant?" He prompted Rojas.

"Long range sensors are still frazzled, but those shapes appear to be starships. Remember that several Federation starships had been assigned to the Badlands to search for the Rakal."

"Which means we can only assume that they have been alerted about us," Cherenkov concluded. "Have they seen us?"

"They aren't making any moves to intercept us, so I don't think so," Rojas answered.

"Raise shields and activate the cloak. Let's not do any more damage to Federation starships than we have to." A dim hush fell over the bridge as the Aegis become invisible to the other ships' sensors. "Lt. Rojas go to impulse engines. Sometimes cloaking devices can be detected if the ship's engines are out of alignment. After the pounding we just took, and the less than tender ministrations applied to the cloak, I want to be safe not sorry."

"Aye sir."

Feeling uncomfortable with the tempting call of the captain's chair, Cherenkov chose to remain standing. He would face whatever was about to come on his feet.

Aldur Keshet closed the singed tome, and leaned back in his chair. Normally sifting through his wife's law books made his head hurt, but tonight he felt invigorated. He grabbed the half-filled glass of kanar beside the book and downed it, uncharacteristically savoring the sweet taste.

All of Cardassia had seen, or would soon, the recording of today's proceeding. And when his people saw the hypocrisy of the "benevolent" Federation revealed, of how Starfleet had coddled and promoted a known murderer of civilians, in fact crowning him a "hero", the ranks of the True Way would swell to unprecedented levels.

Tarkon had been a fool to desert them. But he had graciously left a vacuum in his cowardly exit that the masses would be screaming for Keshet to fill once he sentenced the Founder to death.

Peering across his desk at the holo of his wife Nebel and his son Thrain, his tiny hand in hers, he knew both of them would be proud of him this day.

A gentle knock on the door dispelled his reverie. "Enter," he reluctantly groused after considering whether to accept visitors at such a late hour. But owing to that fact, he knew that whoever had come to see him must have something important to tell him. For their sakes at least, he thought.

Darcis loomed in his doorway, his skin flushed, his eyes haunted. Keshet rose up in his seat, his stomach clenching with suspicious concern. "What is it Darcis?"

"May I enter?" He asked, the first time he had ever made such a request. Now the gul was truly worried.

"Of course, please." Keshet was at full attention in his chair now. Darcis lumbered into the room, a large black bag in his hands. He threw it at the gul's feet, before plucking a chair and sitting down beside Keshet.

"There is something I have to tell you," the harried man said.

"Go on."

"But first," he pointed at the bottle of kanar. Keshet handed him the bottle and wiped out his glass with the sleeve of his shirt before handing him that too. "Thank you." Another first for the former Obsidian Order agent as he poured himself a stiff drink.

"What is it Darcis?" Keshet sought to mask his apprehension with a show of annoyance.

"There are things I must tell you about our benefactor." Darcis leaned close to him. Keshet did likewise, his interest fully piqued.

"Go on." Keshet prodded again. The gul forced himself not to grab the hefty man's shoulders and shake the answers out of him.

"I have been less than forthcoming with you."

"I would expect nothing less from a member of the Obsidian Order." Darcis smiled faintly at the observation, bowing his head in thanks.

Rolling his massive shoulders, centering himself, Darcis exhaled before continuing. "Many have speculated that our benefactors were wealthy Cardassian patriots, collaborating with the occupiers by day while revealing their patriotic hearts at night." Keshet nodded. "But that is not completely the case. Our primary patrons have been the Romulans all along, more specifically the Tal Shiar."

Involuntarily Keshet flew back in his seat, stunned to his core. "Why?" He managed to say after a few dumbfounded minutes.

"They wanted to use the True Way as a shadow army, to entangle both the Federation and the Klingon Empire in a quagmire, eventually turning both home governments against the Cardassian reconstruction project, leaving our sector of space open to Romulan interests."

"And you agreed to this?"

"I agreed to the weapons, ships, and leks the Tal Shiar provided in ample abundance. After Tarkon's defection, due in part to his displeasure with taking Romulan directives, the uprising's scant Cardassian revenue streams went with him. I did what I thought was necessary to keep the rebellion alive."

"But how could the Romulans continue to support us after the True Way, in fact my very own wife, assassinated Sub-Admiral Danclus?"

"Therein lies the problem," Darcis intimated, his voice fraught with remorse.

"I don't follow you." Keshet said, casually turning sideways in his seat, shielding Darcis's view as he unlatched the disruptor from the holster tied to his hip.

"The Tal Shiar continued to support us, even after Danclus, because they knew we provided the best avenue for them to get their hands on the Founder. They aim to study it, to master its morphogenic powers. Think of it, shape shifters could be the supreme intelligence agents."

"The Founder will be tried and executed for its genocide within three days."

"Therein lies the second problem."

"Why did you come here Darcis?" The gul's voice grew colder, his gaze more dissecting. Darcis pointed at the bag.

"They want me to disable the defensive grid. They want to abscond the Founder and they want to murder you," he confessed, actually grief in his voice.

"I am in your debt for informing me of this. You are a true son of Cardassia," Keshet smiled at Darcis, the first genuine gesture he had ever shown the Intelligence Observer. "We must alert the sentinels, and prepare the orbital platforms for incoming." He rose out of his seat.

"Truer than you know," Darcis returned the smile, clutching the gul's hand in one of his paws, pulling him in close. "And that is why I somewhat regret this." He replied, using his free hand to prick the gul with a small needle sticking from the sleeve of his tunic.

Convulsions took Keshet immediately, his lucid mind cleaved from his palsied, unresponsive body. With an almost paternal gentleness, Darcis guided him back into his chair. The gul's eyes grew wide with revulsion as the traitor pulled his scaly, veined, oiled penis from a flap in his pants.

Cradling the organ, his eyes alit with twisted pleasure Darcis roughly grabbed the helpless Keshet, throwing him onto his stomach across the desk. He tore at the gul's pants, stripping him naked. Humming as he carefully positioned him. Spreading him for easier entry.

"The Romulans wanted revenge for the death of Danclus, they wanted to humiliate you, but I could never allow them to do that to you," Darcis panted as he shoved inside Keshet. The gul's heart seized as a river of pain flowed through him. "I wanted that honor to be mine alone. And I can think of no better way to send you to your wife." He crowed, thrusting with demonic abandon.

Body violated and spirit torn, Keshet willed his last bit of muscle control to turn his shamed eyes away from the smiling holo of his wife and son.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Feverish, between life and death, the hard earth rumbled beneath his feet, concussions and shouting assaulted his ears, but Terrence Glover remained where he was, not sure which nightmare, so many had been dredged up the last few days, had seized him this time.

Not even the rustling of Keta's chains, or her frightful, hopeful whispers, "Something is happening…Razad Kor is under attack," freed him from his trance. There was a bright flash on the periphery of his consciousness, a groan, and a thud.

Scabrous hands grabbed him, as so many had for innumerable days. Keta gasped. "Captain!" she screamed. The concern in her voice, so strangely similar to his wife's at that moment, forced him to open his eyes. The wicked face of Shau Darcis stared back at him. He wasn't surprised.

So, this is it, he thought with no feeling, save gnawing hunger, accompanying the realization of his end. He just wanted it to be over. Darcis smiled at him, his breath fetid, but there was something wrong…his teeth were broken, stained. Like a Klingon's. Like Molok's. Glover's eyes narrowed. Now Molok was holding him. How had that happened?

"Darcis?" Confused, stunned, he pulled away from the Klingon, but his grip was ironclad.

"Isn't it obvious," Molok spoke, but the voice was the captain's. Now a doppelganger of himself held him. "I'm a Changeling. Sent here to protect the other. To make sure you solids honored your agreement…among other things. But something has changed. Something is wrong." The Molok-thing replied, his smiling face and bright eyes incongruent with his dire statement. "The enemies to the new peace between our peoples are now about to reveal themselves. And we must meet them." He placed Glover back onto the ground.

The captain almost stumbled over the corpse of the Cardassian that had been guarding their cell. Molok handed Terrence the phase-disruptor rifle that the guard had been carrying. To Keta he gave a phase-disruptor pistol tucked into the "belt" of his Cardassian uniform.

"Where's the Founder?" Glover managed to say, his hands unconsciously checking the disruptor rifle's settings.

"In a specially constructed dungeon on the second level of this station, near the court chambers," Molok replied.

"How do you know that?" Keta asked, her voice pregnant with suspicion as he pointed the pistol at the shape shifter.

He batted away her concerns, chuckling. "Child, I downloaded the layout from the nearest terminal I could find after engineering my escape."

"But why did either one of you allow yourselves to be captured, tortured for days on end if you could escape so easily?" The captain's voice also dripped skepticism.

"And what about the blood, that blood was real," Keta added. One of the defenses devised against Changeling infiltrators was to take blood screenings of suspected impostors. Though the Founder's could mimic humanoid blood, the effect was temporary, and the liquid would revert back to its natural gelatinous state after only a few minutes.

Molok sighed, "There was a real Captain Molok once. A butcher, a sadist. He died on Cardassia Prime, shortly after the war. The blood was real, and it was his. I simply absorbed the Klingons blood into my own body and released it when necessary." Keta couldn't suppress a shiver at the ghastly solution. "You asked," Molok pointed out, before continuing, "and for the other question: We too support the allied efforts in the Cardassian sector. The insurgents posed a major threat to post-war affairs, and we wanted to gauge their threat potential. And discover their cohorts." As he finished up his summation, he broke the shackles on the wrists and ankles of the captain and Cardassian.

"Cohorts?" Glover asked, exasperated, his head swelling with confusion and feverish heat.

"Whom I believe has arrived to collect the other Changeling. So, we must reach and secure her first. No more questions," Molok turned and thundered down the hallway. Keta following, and Terrence stumbling to keep up.

The rough-hewn corridor was dark, barely illuminated by sparking glow sticks scattered along its sides. The captain's vision wasn't helped either by the acidic smoke, flavored with the smell of burning and cooked flesh, that hung in the air. Holding back his gag reflex, he also had to force himself not to cry out each time a naked toe or the sole of his foot stubbed Cardassian armor or stepped on shattered glass or metal shards. Refusing to slow down to inspect his torn feet, the captain pressed ahead, trying to find solace in his military training, squinting through the haze, opening his honed senses to any possible dangers.

Coming to the end of the corridor, the corridor now more brightly lit by the exchange of green and amber phaser fire, Keta ran smack into Molok's outstretched arm, falling back into Glover, forcing them both back against the wall.

"Quiet!" Molok rounded on them, instantly crouching. Both Keta and Terrence followed suit. The captain waddled up to the Changeling. He wanted to see what had given Molok pause.

The corridor had led to the cavernous hanger bay. The sizzle of weapons fire encircled the assorted, ramshackle shuttles in the bay. A group of Cardassians were pinned against the bay's far wall, with no means of escape; wraith-like attackers, their skin luminous in the darkened cavern, sinuously moved around shuttles, methodical and strategic, sacrificing some as they pushed onward.

"Remans," Molok huffed. "A true warrior race. Perhaps my people should've allied with them."

"But aren't the Remans vassals of the Romulans?" Keta asked, sidling up beside the captain. "What are they doing here? What stake do they have in this?"

"It's not them," Glover replied, pieces starting to connect in his mind. "It's who they serve…the Romulans. They could be part of a rescue team," He offered hopefully, knowing it was not the case even before the words had fully vacated his mouth.

"Remans are fodder, they're not sent in for rescue missions; they do the dirty work for their Romulan masters." Molok replied with distaste.

"Much like how the Jem'Hadar works for you," Glover couldn't help but slide the sharp rejoinder in.

"Correct," Molok admitted. "But the Jem'Hadar was supposed to be for defensive purposes only."

"We can debate that later," the captain quickly said, sensing the heat rolling off of Keta at Molok's distorted characterization of the butchers that had almost extinguished her entire race.

"So, what's the plan?" Keta asked. Glover admired how quickly she had subsumed her dislike, if not outright hatred for the Founder. She understood the number one priority at the moment was survival. Old accounts could be settled later. But he prayed that they never be settled at all, merely forgiven or at the least buried.

Don't need to be thinking about burials right now, he chided himself. "We need to reach that access tunnel protected by the Remans," Molok pointed out with the tip of the dk'tahg formed from his body. Glover realized that the shape shifter now was regaled once again in Klingon battle armor.

"Do we wait for the Remans to slaughter the Cardassians?" Keta said with an understandable pinch of sadness in her voice. "And then attack them from behind to reach the shuttle?"

"We could do that," Molok agreed, "But time is off the essence." He grinned, his face feral. "I believe we should join the melee. In the confusion, we might be able to cover ground quickly and reach the access tunnel without much interference."

Keta nodded. Glover added. "Sounds like a plan."

"Today is a good day to die!" Molok bellowed, returning to character. He rushed into the fray, the Captain and Keta once more in his wake.

Colonel Viredis's right eyebrow rose imperceptibly. "You do enjoy your work Shau Darcis," he stated, no need for questions as he looked down once again at the violated, desecrated corpse of Gul Keshet, a thick trail of blood oozing from his hind quarters, pooling on the floor beneath his desk. It matched a similar pool formed from the large gash ripped across the gul's throat.

Darcis said nothing, his huge body quivering with bestial pleasure, as he cradled a blood stained knife. "I take it his humiliation was sufficient?" The Tal Shiar agent asked, casually picking up the holographic image of the suicide bomber Nebel Keshet and a young male that was assuredly their child. He carefully placed the holo back on the desk.

"Of course," Darcis replied finally, his voice obscenely husky. Viredis nodded, gesturing to the two beefy Reman guards flanking him. Within seconds the Remans had removed Keshet's head, with nary a drop of the dead man's blood spackling their hands or the bag they shoved his head into. The colonel hated the sight of gore. The only downside he could note in this line of work, but he was heartened that such ghoulishness was not routine.

"Even now my soldiers hasten to collect the Founder. There is scant, but stiff resistance. Nothing I am worried about," Viredis sniffed. "Admirable work Darcis."

A welcome semblance of control returned to the large man as he asked, "There is another…Glinn Sulle."

"Keshet's second?" He asked, though he knew her rank, personal history, and even favorite dishes.

"Is she still alive?"

"I can't be certain," he answered truthfully. "The location and well being of the Cardassians aboard the station, present company excepted of course, wasn't on my high list of concerns.

"I want her…we have some loose ends to tie up."

"I'm sure you do," Viredis gestured toward the door. "Go find her then. But make sure you finish before we depart. A warbird is waiting at the portside loading dock. Do you wish for one or both of my men to accompany you?" The colonel offered.

"I can handle myself," Darcis cracked his large knuckles in anticipation. "I'll meet you at the loading dock."

Viredis waited until Darcis had crossed the threshold of Keshet's quarters before he shot him in the back of the head, insuring that the splatter pattern of the dead man's blood wouldn't touch his person. Blood and gore stains were so untidy. And murder to clean out, he recollected with disgust.

Glover's rifle barked, striking Reman after Reman, the pale vampiric-looking aliens throwing themselves at him in droves. In front of him, a literal shield, Molok had discarded almost all pretense of being a Klingon, his arms now two long silver blades slicing, stabbing, and hacking an endless array of Remans. There were more of them than they had suspected.

Keta had been pulling up the rear until she had pulled away, a rabid horde of Remans, had covered her. Shooting futilely into the pile of black clad, chalky bodies, Terrence had forced himself to give up on her, the mission, and his own survival now paramount.

The only positive impact of their ill-conceived dash was that the Cardassian soldiers had taken the offensive after many of the Remans had turned their attention to them. He saw bits of gray flesh, pieces of Cardassian armor through the rain of bodies he mowed down. Glinn Sulle, not surprisingly, led the charge.

Seconds after he spotted his nemesis, a foul odor expelled behind him, following by a crash, and the flash of steel at his eye. Stopping right before it penetrated the orb, he heard a familiar rasp.

"Strange bedfellows as you humans say eh?" Sulle fell in beside him, slicing Remans with one hand, a disruptor firing away with the other.

"I'm married," Glover grated.

"I know. I know much about you," Sulle replied. "We Cardassians are quite meticulous in our collection of information."

"I've been meaning to ask you about that," the captain kept his tone light as he ducked from a devastating roundhouse, shoving the emitter cone of his rifle against the now off balanced attacker and filling the alien's chest with disruptive energy. He pushed the sagging Reman off of him. Muscles coursing pure adrenaline, he didn't know how long the high would last, but he hoped his desperation could squeeze as much out of him as necessary.

"What happened?" He roared over the din. Sulle leaned close to him, protecting his flank.

"It appears the Romulans have their own designs for the Founder."

"Where's Gul Keshet?"

"I don't know. Possibly dead." Sulle's voice dropped an octave.

"Darcis?"

"Don't know that either. Hopefully dead."

"I think we are about to find out," Molok grumbled, inexplicably lowering his bladed arms, allowing them to morph back into facsimiles of hands.

"What?" Glover asked as the Remans withdrew. A crouched Sulle also looked askance. From the black mass, a battered, almost naked Keta erupted, pushed toward the trio, the only non-Remans left alive from the fight.

"Look," Molok breathed, pointing at the access hatch. In its threshold was a tall, hawkish Romulan, with two burly Reman guards behind him. Each held a disruptor in their hands. The Founder, her healthy luster restored, calmly stood at the Romulan's side. She smiled wanly at Molok. He bowed in return. "I understand," he said.

"Understand what?" Glover asked with growing apprehension.

"That we will accompany the Romulans aboard their vessel," Molok answered, his voice placid.

"We?"

"Us," he pointed at himself and the other Founder, "with you included of course Captain. Nothing can be done for the Cardassians I am afraid."

Before Glover could respond, the Romulan pulled the trigger of his weapon. Flecks of Sulle's metallic blood splattered on his face, and flew in his mouth as he moved to catch her. Placing the dying woman gently on the deck, he looked back up at the Romulan and then Molok, his eyes burning with vengeance. The Romulan pointed his weapon next at Keta, his eyes widening briefly at her near nakedness. The young Cardassian reflexively sought to cover herself with the few tatters adorning her.

"Your fondness for Cardassians must be a recent phenomenon, akin to the human Stockholm Syndrome perhaps?" Viredis asked, not waiting for a response before he added. "It's not evidenced in your military record, especially Loval."

Back on his feet, Molok grabbed Glover's arm as he moved toward the Romulan. "You supplied them with the inquiry information!"

"It was a small thing, but I must admit most enjoyable watching you squirm during your prosecution. Guilt is such a human emotion."

"You son of a bitch!" Viredis nodded at the appellation, and then smiled.

"I've been called worse." He lowered his disruptor, his Reman guards following his lead. " The Cardassian lives for now. Keeping her around might make you more agreeable Captain." He shifted his head slightly to the left. The Reman at his left pulled out a communicator and spoke into it. Glover felt a familiar tingle as the transporter took hold, whisking him away to God knew where.

Cherenkov stared at the waxen plate of curried chicken, rice, and carrots his stomach turning. Though replicator entrée #103 was his favorite dish, his appetite had evaporated as soon as he had left the bridge. It had almost taken an act of divine will to remove him from the command deck as the Aegis pushed deeper into the Badlands. The thought had even run across his mind that he might eat his meal on the bridge before he realized how unprofessional and disrespectful that would be to Captain Glover.

So he had allowed Tai and Lt. Rojas to convince him to return to his cabin to get a quick repast. He had regretted the decision as soon as he had walked into the dim room. And the disconsolate feelings had increased as he had sat down in the darkened cabin, the deep orange, crimson, and magenta of the plasma fields buffeting the ship the only source of illumination.

His room felt strange, wrong. Turning away from his view port, the First Officer looked at his bed. A stickler for order and neatness, rumpled sheets greeted him with accusation. Right after the Founder had been placed in the brig, he had shuffled Aquiel into his quarters and they had made love in his bed. It had been a brief encounter, but even more passionate than usual.

The Russian couldn't help but wonder if it would be the last time. Spectral memories of her soft ebony skin, the crush of her lips, her fervent heat shimmered through his mind, just out of reach. Traces, he wasn't sure if it were real or imagined, of her perfumed scent lingered in the air. He missed her, and he knew things wouldn't be the same between them. He hadn't pulled her into his circle for this mission and he knew he would have to face that someday. But Ivan hadn't wanted her to suffer for his choices, though he knew Aquiel wouldn't see it that way. It would solely be an issue of trust for her. Deep down he knew she would be right.

He loved her he could finally admit, alone in the most pitiable, forsaken reach of space. But he didn't trust her. How could he? They had served together, seeing action at Loval and Cardassia Prime, but they hadn't bled together. The only trust he knew, the only trust he understood was forged by war and honed by the survival instinct. That's why he and Tai got along so well. They were brothers in arms. And though Captain Glover's road had not been as hard as his, he also recognized the same steel inside him.

But Aquiel? She was a member of a peaceful, partially telepathic race, the troubled product of an abusive home, a studier first of languages and then engines. They had little in common. Reared on tempestuous Terra Nova, he had trained himself to be an automaton, with as little feeling or empathy as possible. And that is how he saw himself until the horrors of the Dominion had awakened his conscience, and shown him how limited and inhuman he had become. Meeting Aquiel had sealed the deal. The fire had been stoked, and there was no way for it to be suppressed.

He exhaled loudly, wishing he could eject his feelings as easily as a warp core. Anticipating her hurt, her accusations, and maybe even her fists weren't the worst part. The prospect of an empty bed, and an even emptier life chilled him to the bone.

"Commander Cherenkov," his combadge chirped. He thankfully activated it.

"Yes."

"Approaching proximate location of Razad Kor," Lt. Rojas informed him.

"Do you see the station?" He asked, hopeful.

"I think you're going to want to see this for yourself."

"On my way." He lightly touched his bed sheets on the way out.

"There's nothing there," Cherenkov gasped as the turbolift doors opened and he stepped onto the bridge.

Lt. Juanita Rojas had already been peering at the heart-wrenching site for almost a minute, willing her tears to remain stored in their ducts. To be shed at another time. But not now. She didn't want them to see her bawling like a newborn at the loss of her captain, and her friend. She had even remained in her seat as the other officers had risen in shock at the sight, even the taciturn Lt. Donar.

On the screen were chunks of rock and metal swimming in a colorful stew of gases and radiation.

"Razad Kor I presume," the Trill said, his observation a cold slap in her face.

"These are the coordinates the prisoners provided," the Orion added, checking her instrumentation several times. "I don't see any other planetoid with a station sprouting on it around here."

"Could they have been mistaken?" Lt. Donar asked. "Could they have supplied you with false information?" Juanita closed her eyes, praying for that to be the case.

"Perhaps under your interrogation methods they might," the Orion replied, her voice tinged with defensiveness. "But I can guarantee you that they believed what they told me."

"I believe it too," Cherenkov said walking slowly up to the viewscreen, past Rojas's console to put his face against it. "That's Razad Kor." He turned away from it. "Life signs?"

"None," the Trill answered.

"Ships? Warp or ion trails? Could there be a ship out there? Could one have left?" The questions spewed rapid-fire from the First Officer's lips.

"Impossible to tell," Donar replied.

"Well let's get down there and investigate. Ever since our run in with that Vor'cha-class cruiser, the ship's sensors have been out of whack."

"The sensors are out of alignment sir," Rojas agreed.

"Nothing remains but rocks, debris, and ash," the Orion intoned, "with radioactivity spiking off the charts. Anyone taking a space walk out there it will be their last."

"But there might be clues out there as to what happened," Cherenkov replied.

"I'm sure there are, but we have to wait until what's left of the planetoid cools down."

"How long will that be?" The Russian groused.

"A few hours at most."

"But we don't have a few hours," Juanita pleaded. "Whoever destroyed the station could have the captain right now and they could be getting away."

"The station could've experienced an internal crisis that resulted in its destruction," the Trill counter pointed. "Or a plasma flare could've been the cause. This is a very unstable portion of space. There are several scenarios, outside of an external attack that we can consider."

"Yeah right. Come on Commander," Rojas huffed. "I bet your guts telling you the same thing mine is: The captain's still alive, somebody's got him, and if we sit around here waiting for some rocks to cool we might really lose him for good."

Sitting in Glover's chair, Cherenkov rubbed his chin, in unconscious imitation of the man. "I agree. Lt. Rojas, move us around the debris field. Set sensors to maximum. Let's see if we can't pick up a warp trail, ion trail, or something." Glancing over a sullen Liris, he offered. "If we can't find something in a couple hours we can return and restart our investigation from this point." The Orion said nothing in response.

With renewed energy, Juanita gently nudged the Aegis's arrowhead hull around the debris. We're on our way Captain, she thought, beaming inside. We're on our way.

"You are one of the Hundred," the Founder Leader said, after the painful wave the inhibitor field washed over her, speaking quickly before the next ripple immobilized her. "You said you understood. But how could you? We have never linked."

"No, we haven't." Molok grimaced, as the beam sliced through him. "But I understand."

"Link with me," she pleaded, her detached demeanor fading around one of her own. She cared not if the Romulans were watching them. The Link was more important than any momentary display of weakness, even around the solids. In any event, she would repay the typical power lust of the Tal Shiar, and their foolish desire to become gods, by bathing in their blood. Perhaps she would don the face of the one named Viredis, and slice to pieces his family and then the whole of his accursed race. The war would've been won if not for the Romulans' abrogation of the non-aggression pact signed by the Dominion in good faith. And they say never turn your back on a Breen?

Vengeful thoughts abated as another wave sliced through her. She held back out her hands. "Link with me. And you will understand."

Molok ignored her. "I was on Cardassia Prime when you gave the order," he paused, regaining his speech in the after another pass of the field.

"How-How is that possible?" Pain seized her. "Why didn't you alert me to your presence?"

"I lived among them. I was one of them. I took in their children, the lost, unwanted ones wondering the streets…they were my family."

"Family?" She scoffed. "You are one of the Hundred. I am your family. The Founders are you family." She held out her hands again. "Link me with me now." He pulled away from her.

"I have been lived in many humanoid cultures, experienced their concept of love, and grief. They are a varied array of beings."

"They are all solids. All prone to hatred. All prone to persecute that which is different, that which they don't understand."

"And are you and 'my' people so different?" Molok shot back. "You have subjugated entire worlds, billions of lives crushed under your heels."

"We have only acted in our defense."

"A lie!" He pointed a spear-tipped hand at her.

"You are young. You don't understand the history of our people. The tragedies we have endured. Merge with me and I will show you, and you will understand."

"What I understand is that you manipulated the Cardassians, played to their worst instincts and sought to murder them all when they sought their liberty, when they realized the mistake of trusting you. I will not do the same."

The Founder staggered back as if she had been struck. "W-What are you saying? She stammered. "You can't possibly mean that."

The surge struck Molok, but he somehow pushed through it, advancing on her. "No Changeling has ever harmed another."

"Yes, that is correct," she paused, cringing more from the continued advance of Molok than in anticipation of the next inhibitor field. "Except one, but he is with us now. He saw the error of his ways."

"Too bad you did not," Molok sneered as he jabbed his spear-hand into her chest. She forced herself to morph around him, determined to suck him into the Link, to merge her essence with him. Only then would he understand, could she rip the veil of naivety, and misinformation from him.

She sought to show him the long, tragic history of her people, the centuries of abuse, persecution, and enslavement. But he resisted, and in her weakened state she gave way. His memories, his feelings flooded into her, infecting her with love, worry, pain, grief. She lived a thousand lives on hundreds of worlds in the twinkle of an instant: She was Cardassian, Malurian, Denebian, Proxician, Nasari, Talaxian, Deltan, El Aurian, Rigelian, Klingon, Andorian, Krenim, Dopterian, Xyrillian, Kaelon, Sheliak, and countless more. For the first time, and the last she understood. And she grieved.

Loosening the reins on her consciousness, she allowed herself to be absorbed. The process only took a few seconds. Shorter than Molok had surmised. With the essence and mass of the other Founder inside of him, he pushed through the field, and pierced the door to his cage. Klaxons blared through the ship. Crushing the skull of the frightened guard standing watch over his cell, Molok felt a tingle of the subsumed one's consciousness. He smiled. There was one thing they could agree on. Bathing in Romulan blood wasn't such a bad idea.

"Let me guess, you're not taking us back to Deep Space Nine," Glover quipped as two Reman guards shoved him into a metallic seat, clamping shackles over his wrists and ankles. "So much for alliances."

"You have a singular wit Captain," Col. Viredis remarked, his lip curling up slightly. Hanging back in the shadows, his disruptor shoved into Lt. Keta's temple, the lanky Romulan nodded at the only other Romulan in the room. "Taibak please began the conditioning process." Taibak lifted a silvery needle to the light.

Strong hands grabbed Terrence's head, holding it in place. Through gritted teeth, the captain tried to sound nonplussed, his voice desperately conversational. Wrenching his head free from clawed Reman hands, Glover was able to glance once more in the shadowy Romulan's direction, catching a glimpse of the approaching Taibak before one of his captors cuffed him in the mouth. "Taibak, that's a strong, proud Romulan name, but I didn't get your master's," Glover spat out through blood and broken teeth.

I can't take too much more of this, he thought, right before the needle pierced the flesh of his neck, its contents coursing through his veins like lava. His vision swam, and he lost what little food remained in his stomach, the stench of his own vomit keeping him on the edge of consciousness.

"I didn't give my name." Glover heard the other Romulan gloat, the voice deeper, slower, and stretched as if it had to travel through a black hole to get to Terrence's ears. The captain swooned, blinking at his double vision. Two and then four Taibaks stood before him, glaring down at him with disapproval.

"He's fighting the serum," the man sounded disappointed. Perspiration sprouted over the captain's body.

"Increase the dosage."

"It might kill him."

"Increase the dosage."

"This is highly unusual Colonel. This dosage should be sufficient for a Terran."

"Perhaps Glover has some alien ancestry. Miscegenation is not uncommon in the Federation." Even in his drugged state, Glover heard the distaste roiling behind that statement.

"Perhaps." Taibak didn't seem that convinced.

"Increase the dosage."

"Of course Colonel."

Taibak stood before Glover, gently grabbing the man's drooping head in his gloved hands. He smacked the captain's cheek, bringing momentary lucidity back to the captain. "Who or what are you Captain Glover? Any non-humans in your genealogy?"

"Forgo the history lesson Taibak. Increase the dosage. Now."

On the rim of blackness, Glover saw a silver flash. He bit his tongue, the pain holding back the serum. The captain was determined to face whatever the Romulans threw at him. "Bring…it on Taibak." He mumbled.

"As you wish," Taibak, with his superior Romulan hearing, replied. "Hold him." The Remans seized Glover's head again. Taibak adjusted a knob on the syringe. He tried to thrash against the grip, but his strength had dwindled, subsumed from his battle to remain conscious. Taibak leaned in close, the sharp tip of the needle pricking his neck.

Glover closed his eyes, ashamed of his weakness. He screamed as the needle raked across his neck, drawing blood. The unexpected pain lessened the captain's sluggishness and fear. He cracked open his eyes just in time to see Taibak give a strangled cry, a green blossom of blood erupting over the chest area of his argent uniform. The Remans rushed past him. Glover followed their hurried footfalls to the chamber's now open door.

The Female Changeling stood at the threshold. The blade that had impaled Taibak retracted back to humanoid dimensions, reforming into a hand. Covered in green blood, so much so that its coppery reek filled the room, the shape shifter held out both her arms, their liquid structure lengthening them, her hands forming into blades. She speared the two Remans, whipping the corpses against opposite walls. The Romulan colonel pushed Keta away from him, blasting the Founder with his disruptor.

The Changeling fell back into the corridor, creating enough space for the brazen colonel to dash through. The Founder started in the direction of the retreating Romulan, when Keta cried out, "Help the captain! Please!" The young Cardassian was frantically pulling at Glover's bonds.

The Founder looked down the hallway, then she glanced at Keta and the fading Glover, and then at the colonel again. Her body rippled, and then she glided into the chamber, snapping Glover's shackles easily. She lifted the slumping captain, placing him across her deceptively slender shoulders. "We have to find an escape vessel."

"What happened to Molok?" Keta asked.

"He…he didn't make it."

"What! I thought it was near impossible to kill a Changeling?"

"It is not as difficult as you might think." The Founder said curtly. "Now, let us vacate this Romulan cesspool."

"Lead the way," Keta replied, stopping to recover a disruptor from one of the felled Remans. It was the last image Glover saw before he slipped into darkness.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"Sir, we're picking up a distress beacon," Donar said, looking up from his terminal, his expression an odd mix of foreboding and hope.

Cherenkov swiveled in his seat to look at the Tactical Officer. "Source? Location?"

"About half a parsec away," Donar said, his voice growing tight. "The transmission has a Romulan signature." Romulan?

"Is it audio or visual?"

"Audio only."

"On speakers."

The First Officer's heart painfully thumped in his chest as a familiar voice, its richness strained, filled the ship's intercom system once again. "This is Captain Terrence Glover, a 'guest' onboard the Romulan Warbird Dromorn. Requesting immediate assistance. Singularity breach is imminent. Repeat: This is Captain Terrence…"

" 'Guest' of the Romulans?" Donar asked. "Don't like the sound of that."

"Me either," Cherenkov remarked. "Can we hail them?"

"Sorry sir," Donar replied. "It's an automated message."

"How old is it?" He asked, hopeful that there was still time to save the captain.

"Less than 15 minutes by my estimate."

"Well then Mr. Donar, coordinate your station with Lt. Rojas's. When you have triangulated the proximate location, lay in course and get there. Maximum warp."

"Aye, Aye sir." Both of the officers enthusiastically responded.

Almost home, the First Officer thought. Just a few minutes longer.

After having his mind and body grated like cheese, his muscles completely drained, the last thing Terrence wanted to hear were the screeching alarms ripping through the comm. system of the Dromorn. His only saving grace was that whatever drug Taibak had pumped into his system appeared to wearing off.

"Is there an off switch for that thing?" The captain roared as he swept the disruptor he had plucked from the hand of a dead Reman, around the bridge, in search of any likely culprit. He let loose with a barrage at the communication system, the console erupting into a satisfying array of smoke and sparks.

"Do you think that was wise?" Keta asked, almost swallowed up in an ill fitting, shoulder padded Romulan uniform. "That was the only means of communication we had."

"The automated buoys have already been sent," Glover reasoned. "If they don't get someone's attention, then that console won't either."

The Romulan colonel had kindly initiated a breach of the warbird's quantum singularity engine before using one of the escape pods and jettisoning all the others.

The few Romulans and Remans left alive after the Founder's first rampage through the ship on her search for Glover and Keta, were now so busy trying to secure their own survival that they had offered little resistance as the trio made their way to Dromorn's bridge. The few dedicated bridge officers had been rewarded with stabbings and beheadings by the Changeling.

Looking at the now stoic shape shifter, he felt a pang of regret that her fellow Founder, Molok had fallen in their escape attempt. Or so she had told them, and she had no reason to lie. At least one he couldn't fathom. And right now all he cared to fathom was how to get off this exploding ship alive.

"I could transform into a space faring vehicle," the Founder offered, "but I could only hold one passenger, and I could not maintain a livable atmosphere for a long stretch."

"No thanks," Glover said. Keta nodded in affirmation. The doomed ship rattled again, causing more consoles to explode, smoke, flames, and the tang of ozone filling the bridge. I've been here before, the captain thought sitting down in the destroyer's vacated command chair. Almost like old times. He leaned back, closed his eyes and grabbed the armrests. At least he would go down with his ship. He would die a hero, just like he had once dreamed of as a kid. His best friends had left the mortal coil fighting for what they believed in, at the culmination of noble quests. He wouldn't mind seeing them again, or at least Cal, because he had never figured out how that Bajoran Prophet, Celestial Temple stuff worked. As the bridge split beneath his feet, torn by the release of the quantum singularity, the voracious black hole the Romulans used to power their craft, he tried not to think of his wife. Instead he focused on the soft prayer he heard Lt. Keta send to her gods.

"Heaven looks a lot like the bridge of my ship," Glover remarked, as he attempted to rise from the unyielding deck. Gentle hands pushed him back down, as a tricorder ran over him. A Long-term Medical Hologram, in the guise of the long dead, but still highly respected Denobulan medic Phlox, of the very first Starship Enterprise, frowned at the readings on the device. "Multiple contusions, abrasions, severe head trauma, shock, malnourishment…" he read off several more depressing diagnoses before concluding. "This man needs immediate medical attention."

"That's why we activated you." A shadow passed over him, and then leaned down. Glover couldn't help but grin.

"Ivan, good to see you."

"Same here Captain." He smiled back, placing another restraining hand on him. "But you need to rest." Terrence wanted to protest that, but his aching body said otherwise. He merely nodded, groaning as the Denobulan facsimile poked him with a cold hypospray.

"What about the others?"

"The Cardassian and the Founder?"

"Yes. We beamed them aboard too before that warbird exploded."

"Where's my wife?" The Russian's face clouded.

"What…happened," he found it harder to speak as the hypo's sedative quickly took hold.

"She's back at Deep Space Nine. It's a long story."
"Well I want to hear it. That's an order." He mumbled before blessed sleep claimed him.

EPILOGUE

Captain Terrence Glover thanked Security Chief Daneeka for being kind enough to allow him and the rest of the incarcerated members of his senior staff to view the tribunal proceedings on a closed circuit net from their cells in Deep Space Nine's detention center.

After rescuing him, Glinn-sed Keta, and the Founder, Cherenkov had helmed the battered bow of the Aegis back through the treacherous Badlands where they inadvertently rendezvoused with the Defiant as it was inspecting the remains of Razad Kor.

The mission complete, Cherenkov, Donar, and Juanita had willingly surrendered Aegis. The other two persons allegedly involved in the hijacking of his ship, a reported Trill and Orion, had been gone hours before the unexpected rendezvous, via an Aegis life pod.

So far, Lt. Daneeka or her counterparts had not gotten Donar or Cherenkov to open up about their mysterious associates. And Glover doubted that they ever would. He knew when he took both of them onboard his ship that they carried myriad secrets. In this instance, the secrets they possessed helped save his life. He didn't know if that would always be the case, but he hoped so.

Though he had played no role in the countermanding of Admiral Shanthi's demobilization order, Glover would be damned if he allowed his crew, good people who put their lives and careers on the line for him, to be punished and he not share in it with them. Especially Jasmine. He grasped his wife's artificial hand, its flesh so life like that he momentarily forgot that the hand hadn't come with her out of the womb.

Once again his father's influence had made things easier for him. Admiral Glover's clout, in addition to a glowing endorsement from Natima Lang's government for their role in shattering one of the most dangerous sects of Cardassian militants had convinced Starfleet Command to reduce possible years of jail time to 90 days in the stockade on Jaros II. "Skip the breakfasts," former inmate Daneeka had advised them once she had learned about their destination. Aegis would be docked at Earth Station McNair after the Erickson arrived to transport them to their temporary new home.

Watching the Founder in the docket, an uncharacteristic remorse wreathing her features, Glover couldn't help sense how this ordeal had changed each of them, perhaps the Founder Leader most of all. It seemed like she finally got it, that she now understood the enormity of the suffering she had inflicted on billions of lives. Then again, the Changelings were shape shifters, masters of mimicry. It could be just an act, but he hoped it wasn't. Despite all the pain he had endured, he realized that he had learned something: that he and the monster standing trial were more alike than they both pretended to be.

And though he didn't agree with the True Way's methods, he understood what they had been trying to do, maybe even better than either the departed Keshet or Sulle. The trial Keshet began was ongoing, and the captain promised to find a way to atone, to climb out of the blood-soaked pit his hatred and bias had constructed. The quadrant had almost slid right back into war in the blink of an eye. He had grown used to war, used to it. The realization hollowed him, but he couldn't deny it. Now he had to get used again to peace, to reconciliation. He committed himself to joining in the cause of building a true, free, and proud Cardassia, a model of interspecies cooperation for the entire quadrant. It was the least he could do for all the innocent lives he extinguished on Loval.

Even the Romulan Praetor Hiren had recently echoed such hopeful sentiments, becoming the most vocal proponent of speeding up the tripartite occupation timetable in light of the diplomatic and public relations debacle caused by another Tal Shiar bumble.

Glover had even received a personal apology from the Romulan government, relayed through his father over his treatment at the hands of Taibak and the nameless colonel. Both Doctors Girani and Amoros, along with resident Romulan Ousanas Dar had all confirmed that the serum Taibak had injected him with had run its course and that there wouldn't be any lasting deleterious effects.

"Are you okay Terrence?" Jasmine frowned at him. "Do you need a medic?" Since he had returned, bruised, battered, broken in almost everything but spirit, she had been hovering over him like a nursemaid. Though he had discouraged her from doing it, deep down he loved the attention, and she knew him well enough to continue.

"I love you," he whispered in her ear. She huddled closer to him on the small bench. Her hazel eyes dimmed.

"There's something I need to tell you." She said softly, her sweet breath tinkling his nose.

He put a thick finger to her tender lips. "It can wait honey. We've got time. All the time in the world."