The Battle for the Bat'leth
Stardate: 51130.5
"Yes! Finally, a Starfleet ship!" Nog cried, hurrying over to his station on the Defiant's bridge.
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Cadet," Benjamin Sisko warned, settling into the captain's chair. "We haven't been given a mission yet. Starfleet Command may decide to send us on another undercover mission into Cardassian space."
"Whatever the next mission is, I hope that we get to stay on the Defiant," Jadzia Dax said, running a diagnostic on her console to ensure it was still functioning. "At least we have chairs to sit in."
"I agree," the excitable Nog responded, glancing up to the viewscreen. "I'm glad that we don't have to work in that Jem'Hadar ship anymore, because I hate those disgusting field rations."
"Better get used to them, Cadet," Chief O'Brien said, his Irish burr mixed with a hint of humor. "I remember Julian told me once that he designed a special blend of field rations when in Starfleet Medical Academy. Maybe you should ask him about them when you get off duty."
Nog's face fell. He mumbled something indecipherable and got back to his work.
Just then, Doctor Bashir walked through the doors to the bridge. Suddenly the entire bridge crew went quiet.
"Have I missed something?" the young doctor asked.
"Er," muttered Chief O'Brien, who was looking at the faces of the rest of the bridge crew that all read quite clearly: "Don't tell him!"
"What is it?" Julian asked insistently.
"Sir," Nog said, eyes wide like a targ in the headlights. "I heard that you once designed combat rations that were actually palatable. Is it true?"
"Oh, yes, young Nog!" Julian said happily, his demeanor quickly changing from sullen to excitable. "It's completely true. They were full of protein, rich in vitamins and minerals, and had a shelf life of several years. I must still have the recipe somewhere… would you like to try some? They tasted like candy, as I recall… Maybe I could make one flavored like root beer."
Nog glanced nervously around at the bridge crew, who all wished that he hadn't brought up the subject. But upon seeing Nog's face, all of them, even Captain Sisko and Dax, looked like they were about to explode from laughter.
Fortunately, before any of the crew could lose their composures, Dax, who was covering communications, said, "Admiral Nechayev is requesting communications."
"Put it through," Captain Sisko said, a hint of red evident in his face. The viewscreen clicked on a second later and the admiral appeared on the screen.
"Admiral Nechayev," Sisko said, suddenly businesslike.
"Captain Sisko," Admiral Nechayev responded with a quick nod. "The Defiant is ready to go, I trust?"
Captain Sisko glanced over to Chief O'Brien, who nodded his head. "Yes," said Sisko. "All systems check out."
"How about the cloak?" Nechayev asked nervously. "Is it functional?"
"Yes," responded Sisko.
"Then there's no time to waste," said Nechayev. "In the time you've been gone, the Milky Way has been turned even more upside down, if possible. I know this is going to sound absurd, but the Dominion and Cardassian forces have found the bat'leth of Kahless drifting in space."
"What?" Dax, Worf, and Sisko cried at the same time.
"I know it's strange, but the Dominion has found a definite DNA match. Though the DNA could be easily faked, the bat'leth's authenticity is not the major issue. What is a problem is that the Klingons are on what they think is a glorious crusade, senselessly trying to recover the bat'leth from the Jem'Hadar. As they get the news, Klingon ships are leaving their posts and going on suicide missions into Cardassian space to win the bat'leth back. Without the Klingons, Starfleet ships are spread thin; only one or two per star system. Individually, they are no match for Jem'Hadar vessels.
"We've taken heavy losses," Nechayev continued, "which is why it's up to you and General Martok to retrieve the bat'leth before we lose all semblance of hope."
With a furrowed brow, Sisko said, "yes ma'am. Sisko out."
Once Dax had terminated the comm link, Sisko looked back at her, saying, "How in the galaxy did the bat'leth of Kahless wind up adrift in space?"
"Er…," she responded, looking back at Worf and smoothing her ponytail nervously.
Once Dax and Worf had told the whole story to the captain, he pulled his hands together in front of his face, as was his wont when he was trying to wrap his head around something. In the end, he thought, Dax, Worf, and Kor had made the right choice to beam the ancient sword into space for fear of it tearing apart the Klingon Empire. But now, the bat'leth made of Kahless' own hair was pulling the Empire apart by its seams.
Suddenly, a whooshing sound woke the captain from his daze. Standing up and straightening his uniform, he turned around.
In front of him were two Klingon warriors. One was old with long, grey hair and the other had wavy, black hair and a missing eye. Both wore grey Klingon armor and held bat'leths and disruptors. Slung over both of their shoulders were the sashes for their d'k tahg knives, which hung at their waists in easy reach.
Despite their burly and warlike forms, Captain Sisko was not at all intimidated. He was used to fighting along Klingons by now and knew General Martok as a close friend.
"Captain," grunted the one-eyed general. "This is Kor, a Dahar Master. Trust him with your life, for he is one of the greatest warriors in the galaxy and is the best ally you could ever wish to have."
The grey-haired Klingon grunted an acknowledgement of the Starfleet captain, then moved over to talk with Jadzia and Worf. Sisko and Martok watched the old friends catch up for a moment while the last of the supplies needed for the mission were beamed aboard.
"It's not natural," Martok commented, regarding the three friends. "There should be laughter. Worf and Dax are to be married, no?"
"Yes, they are," Sisko said. "You're right. The abduction of the bat'leth has cast a gloom over those three."
"Only three?" Martok cried. "Every Klingon with a ridged brow mourns the day when the filthy Vorta touched the fine blade of Kahless!"
"We had better get under way," responded the captain. "You and Kor should brief the senior staff on this mission as soon as we have a course laid in."
"And that we will do. Helm, the heading is two one three mark one four seven."
"Course laid in," replied Nog, rapidly dialing the numbers onto his console.
"Senior staff, report to the mess hall," said Sisko, tapping his combadge.
A few minutes later, the senior staff were all gathered around a screen on the wall which detailed their flight plan. The Defiant was marked as a delta symbol moving steadily over the green tone of Federation space. However, up ahead, they could see an ominous purple shade which illustrated Cardassian space. A black X about a light year from the Federation border marked the spot where the Dominion vessel reportedly discovered the bat'leth.
"This is about where we beamed the bat'leth into space," Kor said, his deep voice even lower than usual. "At that time, this area was Federation space, but recent Dominion attacks have expanded their territory. There have been frequent Jem'Hadar sightings along this border.
"That despicable Vorta, Weyoun, sent a message through to the Klingon High Council showing himself with the sacred weapon about two days ago. The Vorta are not a race that refuse any opportunities to brag, so that puts their discovery of the bat'leth at from two to three days ago. Here's the video he sent."
The screen blinked on and there was Weyoun, flanked by two disruptor-holding Jem'Hadar and holding a dark, inscribed bat'leth with an unusual protrusion in the center of the crescent blade. His purple eyes blinked innocently as he said, "Oh, you Klingons. You are so clumsy; one of you must have accidentally left this ancient… what's it called… yes… bat'leth in an airlock. It's pretty old, I'd say," the Vorta said, tossing the bat'leth in the air and barely catching it. "It might even be the ancient sword of Kahless, or at least that's what the DNA tells me." Weyoun grinned evilly. "Well, it's time to cut this broadcast short. I'm off to play with this new bat'leth I found!"
With that, the screen clicked off and was replaced by the Federation logo.
An angry growl broke the momentary silence. It was Worf, who was grinding his teeth menacingly. "I abhor that petaQ! The way he holds that sacred blade as if it is a toy… it is a terrible insult to all Klingons!"
"Calm yourself, Worf, son of Mogh," Martok said, though he too was infuriated by the Vorta. "It is a taunt, a well-calculated taunt designed to drive the Klingons away from their posts and leave parts of the Federation and Klingon Empire unguarded. Even Chancellor Gowron cannot stop the Klingons for searching for it!"
"I agree," rumbled O'Brien. "You're reacting exactly how Weyoun wanted you to."
With a deep breath, Worf got himself back under control, though his jaw still ground audibly.
"Do we know from where was it sent?" Martok asked.
"I think so," Captain Sisko responded. "Weyoun was most likely collecting more ketracel white for his Jem'Hadar soldiers. I know him. Weyoun keeps what must be an annoyingly close eye on Gul Dukat, being his Dominion advisor. You can expect that he has arrived at Deep Space Nine by now."
There was a general mumble of consent.
"In that case, captain," said Martok, "we shall have to infiltrate."
"Yes," replied Sisko, "but that all depends on time. Doctor, how long could we arrive to Deep Space Nine at top speed?"
"Two hours, nineteen minutes, and four seconds," Bashir droned, sounding almost bored.
"Alright," said Captain Sisko. "That gives you and your nurses time to surgically alter our faces to look Cardassian."
Bashir nodded, saying, "I'll start right away. Just for a head count, who is coming?"
"We should keep this small," Kor advised. "That way, there is a lesser chance that we'll be found out."
"Agreed," Sisko responded. "You, Martok, Dax, Worf, and I will go. That makes five." Bashir nodded and ducked out of the room to prepare for the surgeries. "Dismissed," Captain Sisko said.
As soon as the captain stepped into the hallway, he was accosted by Elim Garak, who had been present at the meeting even though he was not even a member of the Federation, much less a part of the senior staff. "I assume you'll be needing uniforms and Cardassian identities, captain. I would be more than happy to supply those for you, being a plain, simple tailor."
"You're on, Garak," Sisko said, starting forward to the medical ward. "Although I assume you want something in return."
"Oh, I assure you that all I desire is to see the sour look on Gul Dukat's face when he finds out the bat'leth is missing," Garak said with a crafty smile.
"I hope you get your wish," the captain responded, to Garak's wide smile. After a short ride in the turbolift, Captain Sisko walked into the medical ward.
Worf, Kor, Martok, and Dax were already there, sitting on individual biobeds. Just as Sisko walked in, Doctor Bashir led Dax into the surgical bay, where his nurses were preparing the tools for the cosmetic surgery.
After twenty minutes, the doctor emerged from the surgical bay with Jadzia next to him. Captain Sisko was taken aback with what he saw; she looked just like a Cardassian, her skin sallow and scaly. Sisko barely recognized her, for she looked to all the galaxy like a full-blooded Cardassian. Kor and Worf barked their distinct deep-bellied laughs at the captain's horrified expression.
"I've never seen… anyone… so bewildered… since… I met Curzon… for the first… time," wheezed Kor, clutching at a stitch in his side.
"Well, Benjamin," Dax said with a blue-lipped grin. "How do I look as a Cardassian?"
"Fine form, old man," Sisko replied with a chuckle.
"As for you two," Doctor Bashir said, turning his gaze to Kor and Worf. "You'll soon look like you could be guls, even legates."
And that the rest of the Away Team did, with forty minutes left until Deep Space Nine would come into view. In the time they had left, they dressed in the Cardassian armor Garak had procured from the replicators and familiarized themselves with the false identities Garak supplied for them. According to Garak's cover-up story, the five infiltrators were part of a trade convoy delivering ketracel white to the station.
As the minutes inched by and they started to itch for action, they heard Sisko's discarded combadge chirp. "Captain to the bridge," Cadet Nog's voice rang.
Instantly, the five spies leapt up and climbed on board the turbolift. As the walls seemed to hum with each passing level, Sisko's heart sped up. It had been weeks, even months, since he had seen Deep Space Nine and Bajor. For some reason, he wondered idly if Morn was still there.
Then, when the doors parted in front of them, he felt his breath get taken away. It was the same beautiful station, round as a baseball, wreathed by glittering stars. But it was not the same… droves of Cardassian and Dominion ships prowled in formation around the outside of the station, and a massive purple Jem'Hadar warship was docked on one of the lower pylons.
Sisko raised his hand up to scratch his neck but quickly brought it back down when his fingers met the bumpy Cardassian ridges. Being in someone else's skin was very unnerving, almost as unnerving as seeing the space station as a full-blown Dominion military base
Chief O'Brien was sitting at the transporter station, monitoring a graph as new data came in. "I'm going to beam you down in one of the cargo bays; chances are that no one will see you beam in," the chief said. "I'm going to use the main deflector to momentarily magnify the background radiation. That should be enough to mask your transporter signatures."
The Away Team nodded their understanding, then moved up to the transporter pad.
"I see a natural spike in radiation levels," Chief O'Brien said, eyeing his monitor. "Now is as good a time as we'll ever get. Energize."
They rematerialized in a cargo bay a moment later, just as the chief had told them. They slid through the passageways formed between rows of cargo containers and emerged in a somewhat open space, like a clearing in a forest.
"There's the door," Dax said, heading towards a partially obstructed doorway.
"I see the Cardassians are not as strict on safety precautions as the Federation is," Sisko said, pointing at the precariously overhanging crates and containers.
Fortunately, they made it safely through the doors without triggering any alarms or knocking anything from the shelves. Nonetheless, it was a relief when they made it safely to the unobstructed hallway. Walking quietly as Cardassian voles, the Away Team prowled through the passage.
"Let's head to Quark's bar, if it's still open," Captain Sisko said. "That will be as good a place as any to start looking for clues as to the bat'leth's location, if it is indeed on the station."
They continued through the space station's sprawling passageways until they came to a turbolift, which they rode down to the Promenade. From there, they walked by scores of Cardassians, Jem'Hadar, Vorta, and even a few Bajorans, trying their hardest not to attract any unwanted attention.
Sidling into Quark's, they found a table on the upper level, where they could easily keep an eye on the proceedings of the bar. Soon, they were approached by Quark, who said, "What can I get for you, gents? I just opened a bottle of kanar for Damar down there."
Trying her best to answer as a Cardassian would, Dax responded, "Raktajino."
"Same here," Kor, Worf, Martok, and Sisko ordered all at once.
"That'll be five raktajinos, coming right up," the Ferengi answered, turning back down the staircase. "I need to get Rom to order me some more raktajino beans; I'm running low," he added under his breath.
Once a waiter had brought up their raktajinos, which they sipped appreciatively, the Away Team focused on picking up snatches of information about the bat'leth of Kahless. It soon became apparent to them that the message had only been sent to the Klingons; no one here seemed to know or care that the sword of Kahless had been found.
Dax and Sisko nearly choked on their coffee as Jake Sisko walked in through the main entrance.
"Jake!" Sisko whispered, hardly believing his eyes.
"Remember, Captain Sisko, that your son will not recognize you," Martok's voice rumbled. "It is best to leave him alone and merely observe for now."
Sisko slumped back into the chair, seeing the truth in Martok's argument. Nonetheless, he still kept a close eye on his son.
A few minutes later, Kira and Odo walked in, taking their seats at the bar next to Morn. Soon, they were approached by Quark, who poured Kira a raktajino. Quark showed even more signs of distress as he searched in vain for more raktajino beans.
"It's a good thing the station's being occupied by the Dominion and not by the Klingons; I'm nearly out of raktajino beans!" Quark's distinct voice rang out.
From their perches high above, they were able to hear Odo's distinctive harrumph. It was neither out of humor nor of contempt, but somewhere in between.
"Look at Kira," Dax told Captain Sisko. "I haven't seen her so closed-off since I first met her." Indeed, the major's face was unsmiling, her solemn eyes unseeing. When she thanked Quark for her drink, her lips barely moved.
"It must be terrible," Sisko agreed, his gut wrenching in empathy for his crewman. "First there was the Cardassian Occupation and now she has to do nothing while another oppressive forc occupies their home. I heard that she's blaming herself for the death of a Vedek who committed suicide last week."
"She thinks she's a collaborator!" Dax gasped. "Oh, poor Nerys. I wish I could run down there and give her a hug… let her know things'll turn out okay."
"It is inadvisable," Worf interrupted. "Major Kira is strong - a trait that will bring her glory - and she will prevail over whatever comes her way."
"You're right, Worf," Dax said, still staring wistfully down at her Bajoran friend. "It just hurts me to see her in such inconsolable pain."
"We will all hurt if we forget the goal of our mission," Kor growled, standing up from the table and draining his raktajino. "There is that bloodless petaQ that sent out the message. I will not rest until the bat'leth is out of his flighty fingers."
"Agreed," Martok responded, mimicking Kor's actions and joining him by the spiral staircase. The rest of the Away Team followed, not far behind.
Once they descended the stairs, they followed the mischievous Vorta over to a dabo table.
"Hello, friends!" Weyoun cried cheerfully, clinking two bars of gold-pressed latinum in front of him. "Would you care to join me in this wonderful game? It is really quite fun, isn't it?"
Kor, Martok, and Worf seethed but managed to keep their composures.
"I think that my compatriot Elaia would love to play," Sisko quickly said to remedy the deteriorating situation. "I've heard that she is excellent at the game."
"That sounds wonderful," Weyoun chanted, tossing many bars of gold-pressed latinum into the pot. Sisko and Dax put in a meager amount of latinum, in comparison to the heaps of latinum the Vorta had piled in.
"Ah, I see your strategy," Weyoun said, his purple eyes greedy and calculating. "You're starting off small with your bets, just to see if I'm any good at this game. Well, I can assure you that I am more than adept at holding my own in this game. I feel like betting big today! Dominion victories all across the board… just excellent. Now spin, dabo girl! Tell me I win!"
With a forced smile, the dabo girl spun the dabo wheel.
"Dabo!" Weyoun cried, pulling his winnings toward him. "I'm on a roll today! I'm winning at everything I touch."
"I let him win," Dax muttered into Sisko's ear.
"Good luck, old man," Sisko responded, retreating to watch from the distance with the three Klingons. Once Weyoun had won several rounds, Dax started her real magic and Weyoun rapidly lost the pile of latimum that lay on the table. He spluttered, upset that he was being beaten by a girl. Just when it seemed Weyoun's temper was about to break, Dax let him win back half of his pot.
"Best leave it at that, Elaia," the long-eared Vorta cried. "I've never played a more formidable and daring opponent. Can I buy you a drink?"
Several bottles of kanar later, Dax had managed to get Weyoun very, very drunk. His words were very slurred and near indecipherable, but from what Dax could tell, Weyoun was saying, "More kanar, please. It really is a wonderful drink."
After Dax had poured him another glass of kanar, she said, "I heard you got on the bad side of some Klingons the other day. Is it true?"
"Yes, Elaia," Weyoun spluttered, choking on a gulp of kanar. "You must've heard of my little boast to the Klingons. I must say that I'm quite happy with the response. We've destroyed more Klingon ships in just two days that we had in the whole time before that. Those Klingons really are gullible creatures."
Dax seethed at the insult, having strong cultural attachments to the Klingons. Somehow, she quelled her anger before Weyoun could notice. "Those are great victories for the Dominion and Cardassia!" Dax flattered. "But what I want to know most of all is if you have the real bat'leth of Kahless."
In response, the Vorta exploded in laughter, banging his empty kanar glass loudly on the table. "For answers like that, Elaia, you'll need to pour me some more kanar!" he guffawed.
As Dax poured Weyoun another glass, he said, "Of course I have the real bat'leth! I'm a very trustworthy man, deep down. I don't have it anymore, though, because I gave it to the Jem'Hadar for their training. There's very little I could do with it, except perhaps hang it on the wall in my office… but you know, Vorta have no sense of aesthetics, if you remember."
"Of course, of course," responded Dax, having gotten all the information she needed. "Well, it's getting late; I'm off to my ship."
"Allow me to escort you," Weyoun offered, standing up and promptly toppling over into a crowd of Jem'Hadar.
"No, I'm really fine," Dax said, reaching down to help the purple-eyed Vorta up. "You, on the other hand, had better get to the medical ward to take an anti-intoxicant."
"There's a certain logic to your statement," the Vorta said, stumbling away to the Promenade.
Once Weyoun had shambled out the door, Dax met up with Worf, Kor, Martok, and Sisko.
"Wow, that one can hold his liquor," Dax said, sighing deeply.
"You aren't bad at holding it too, old man," the captain said appreciatively. "The Vorta are immune to most poisons, but it doesn't appear they can fend off a few bottles of kanar!"
"Oh, Benjamin, don't put so much faith in me. The only reason I still stand on two feet is because I had our man Bashir give me an anti-intoxicant before I left." The Away Team broke out in laughter before remembering that they had a mission to accomplish.
"Did you learn anything from him?" Martok asked.
"Yes," said Dax, glancing around her to make sure no one could hear her. "I'm pretty sure that Weyoun gave the bat'leth to the Jem'Hadar soldiers he commands so that they can practice using their kar'takins against a Klingon weapon."
"That makes sense," Kor grunted. "In that case, we must find out where the Jem'Hadar practice and take the bat'leth away." The elderly warrior limped off in the direction of the doorway.
"Hang on a minute," Captain Sisko said, grabbing Kor by the arm. "We can't just plunge into a Jem'Hadar practice area and hope for the best! After all, the Jem'Hadar were genetically enhanced to be killing machines. I know you would prefer to do this the honorable way, but we are outnumbered hundreds to one; we need to win this battle with our brains, not our brawn."
"Today is a good day to die," Kor's deep voice growled.
"For Jem'Hadar," Martok added. In response, Kor made a strange sound, like a cross between a roar and a snarl, which Sisko interpreted as a laugh.
"Alright, Captain," the Dahar Master relented. "We'll do this your way. But if a Jem'Hadar is in my sights, you cannot expect me not to kill him."
Sisko nodded. Sometimes you couldn't win an argument with a Klingon.
Suddenly, angry voices rung out. Two Jem'Hadar soldiers had pinned Quark to the wall by his ears.
"What are you doing, Ferengi?" One of them snarled. "Are you eavesdropping?"
"No!" Quark wheezed, his eyes wide in terror. "I would never… I was just getting some more raktajino beans from under the bar, I swear! I swear it on my moogie!"
"Quark only invokes his moogie in his pleas for mercy when he's sincere," Odo said, standing up and frightening the Jem'Hadar so badly that they dropped Quark and sank to their knees.
"Founder!" one of them cried. "Forgive us for our mistake! We had no idea this man was your friend!"
"What should we do to repay you?" the other Jem'Hadar asked. "We will die if we displeased you."
Odo seemed taken aback; he shook his head and harrumphed. "Returning to your training will be payment enough," the Changeling said.
Bowing deeply, they said, "Victory is life!" They turned and walked out of Quark's.
"Come on," Sisko said, beckoning for the Away Team to follow him.
They trailed behind the two Jem'Hadar soldiers, who were walking with their heads turned down. "I feel sorry for them," Dax said. "They know nothing other than blind obedience."
"That's how they were designed to be," Kor responded, keeping a close eye on the Jem'Hadar they were trailing. "Look!" he added.
The Jem'Hadar walked into a turbolift and said, "Ore processing."
"Ah!" Martok said. "That's where they're going."
"That place was abandoned when the Cardassians left; it would be a great place to practice fighting," said Sisko. "In fact, when we win back Deep Space Nine - and I intend to do that - I'm going to make it into a drill area for combat practice."
When the turbolift came back up again, the Away Team boarded it and rode it down to the ore processing center. As they walked out into the area, Sisko was overwhelmed by unwelcome memories from his short stay in the mirror universe.
"What're you doing down here?" A fierce Jem'Hadar yelled, approaching them with his kar'takin. "This is a Jem'Hadar practice area!"
"In case you've forgotten, Jem'Hadar," Martok shouted, "Cardassians are part of the Dominion! I have every right to train here."
"I am First Tenara'Ran. Be careful who you pick a fight with, Cardassian."
"I'll pick a fight with you, then, Tenara'Ran," Martok responded, feeling the anger rise inside him. He couldn't imagine how the Cardassians and the Jem'Hadar had lived for so long in peace on the crowded station. "If you want a fight, I'll give you one. That is what this room is for, isn't it?"
If Jem'Hadar could smile, Tenara'Ran would be grinning. "Which weapon do you choose?"
"That one." Martok pointed at the bat'leth of Kahless, which hung on the wall with several other assorted weapons. "The Klingon weapon."
"A good choice," the Jem'Hadar responded taking the crescent sword from the wall and balancing it before handing it to the one-eyed Klingon.
"I've killed Jem'Hadar before," said Martok, taking the blade gingerly and spinning it with practiced ease. The training Jem'Hadar stopped what they were doing to see who it was that had managed to kill one of their own.
"They must have been abnormally weak to be killed by your feeble hands," Tenara'Ran sneered, running at Martok.
Martok deflected the kar'takin, holding the bat'leth with two hands. Prowling in a circle, they both stared at each other's eyes, looking for any hint of their next move. With a yell, Martok ran forward and swung at Tenara'Ran's legs with the end of the sword. Jumping up to evade the whistling sword, Tenara'Ran brought down his kar'takin like an axe. Using the momentum from his missed lunge, Martok swung the bat'leth up to block the kar'takin that was bearing down on his head.
Crack! The kar'takin's handle splintered into a thousand pieces, sending the heavy metal head swinging off to the side. Whirling the bat'leth around like a plasma storm, Martok lopped off the Jem'Hadar's head.
"Glory to Kahless!" he yelled, raising the bat'leth in the air and springing forward to fight the closest Jem'Hadar.
"That's our signal!" Sisko cried, pulling out his phaser and jumping behind an abandoned ore tunnel. The ore processing center rapidly transformed into an uncontrollable mêlée. Sisko and Dax tried to provide cover for Worf, Martok, and Kor but there was so much going on it was hard to tell friend from foe.
"O'Brien," yelled Sisko, hammering on his hidden combadge. "Beam us out as soon as you can!"
"Acknowledged, sir! It may take a minute for the background radiation to spike," the chief replied.
"We don't have a minute!" Sisko said, looking around at the chaotic scene. Suddenly, his eyes zeroed in on Worf, who was being attacked by two Jem'Hadar at once. One of the Jem'Hadar twisted the bat'leth out of Worf's hands and the other came in with his kar'takin raised high above his head.
With a careful shot with his phaser, Sisko dispatched the two Jem'Hadar, allowing Worf to pick up his bat'leth and help Kor finish off the Jem'Hadar Second, who was proving a difficult adversary. Once they had either killed or stunned all the Jem'Hadar, Sisko yelled, "Fall back! We're going to beam out!"
All seemed to be going well, until in the blink of an eye, twenty Jem'Hadar beamed in, their disruptor pistols aimed straight at the impostors.
"They're Cardassians!" one of them yelled, pulling the trigger of his disruptor.
But the phaser blast never hit its target, because O'Brien just managed to get the Away Team in a transporter beam.
"Take that, you bloody Cardies!" O'Brien yelled as the Away Team rematerialized on the Defiant with the bat'leth of Kahless and shot away from Terok Nor. Before the space station disappeared entirely, Sisko said, "I'll get you back, Jake."
He watched it until the Defiant shot away at warp eight. Later that day, after a hearty congratulations from several Starfleet admirals and from Chancellor Gowron, the crews of the U.S.S Defiant and the I.K.S. Rotarran got together for a great Klingon feast, complete with barrels of bloodwine, warnog, and gagh. Kor and Martok told stories of their adventures and led several Klingon drinking songs.
As for the bat'leth, it was sent to the Hall of Warriors on Kronos, where it was hung prominently above Kahless' statue. In the grand scheme of the Dominion war, the Battle for the Bat'leth was a minor victory, a small glimmer of hope in a galaxy riddled with strife and war. But that little fact didn't take away from the glorious recovery of the most coveted item in Klingon history, the bat'leth of Kahless.
Qapla'!
