Refractions of Dawn
"Our life is like the flash of a firefly in the night." – Unknown Cree Elder
The year is 2374. The Dominion has occupied Betazed and is preparing an invasion into the core of the Federation. Commodore Saavik and the crew of the USS Forge, one of a handful of units consistently able to thwart the Jem'Hadar, are called upon to halt this invasion before it starts- but the Dominion knows they are coming and has prepared a very nasty surprise.
This story takes place in the same continuity as my other Trek stories. Sito Jaxa survived her mission into Cardassian space, (TNG Lower Decks; see "Sun and Water") and joined the Maquis as (ostensibly) a Starfleet agent until the Jem'Hadar invasion. Commodore Saavik was captured, tortured and ultimately placed in stasis by the Romulan intelligence organ, the Tal Shiar, approximately twenty years prior, escaping shortly before the Dominion War (haven't finished that one yet). I am indebted to Carolyn Clowes (TOS: The Pandora Principle) for Saavik's back-story, to Diane Duane for the Sulamids and various things Vulcan, and to Andromeda for various titles. Note that I do not acknowledge continuity from any of the later novels featuring Saavik. Trek, for better or worse, belongs to Paramount.
This is my attempt at a full-on Dominion War story (plenty of character development, though, as always); it is also an essay on everything that rings false about Star Trek's (and especially DS9's) portrayal of combat in space, hence the technical bits.
Chapter 1: Starlight and Still Water
The bridge of the USS Forge was as Sito preferred it, darkened for the night shift. The excellent bridge module was one of the many modifications that Aradain Shipyard had designed for the Ambassador class, and one that the crew most appreciated. Every console now had a holographic component for three-dimensional awareness, to say nothing of the four impressive holotac displays and the enormous viewscreen. Sito preferred to stand watch at her tactical station, eyes flicking between her own display, where she was monitoring several diagnostics and combat simulations, the holotacs and the magnificent view of the stars on the screen. It was one of those rare occasions when she had nothing urgent to do, and was caught between relaxation and watchfully waiting for a Jem'Hadar ship to show up. The Forge had been on virtually continuous combat and combat-related duties since the conclusion of the refit, and now, with most of her damage repaired, was wending her way to starbase at high warp.
Sito hear the turbolift door open behind her. She stood on hearing the even tread of Commodore Saavik, before realizing she needn't have vacated her seat.
"Good morning, Lieutenant."
"Good morning Commodore. Sleep well?"
"Indeed."
"Then you must have been sleepwalking, since you've been to Engineering, Sickbay, Deflector Control and Stellar Cartography since going off shift."
Saavik raised an eyebrow. "I made no mention of the length of my slumber. As to my alleged somnambulism, I have no comment."
"Indeed," Sito grinned. "All systems functioning normally, as though you didn't know. We have twenty contacts on sensors, five starships, six refugee carriers and the rest freighters and couriers. Clear of enemy contact since 0331- that Jem'Hadar patrol went back to Betazed. Ensign Zaihir and Crewmen Akara and Sevok were released from Sickbay. Corporal Azati went berserk in the Weevil again. I relieved him of duty until the Doctor Selar can decide how to treat him."
"Indeed. Perhaps I will call on him. Meditation is sometimes more helpful than rest. Any word from the Starbase?"
Sito made a face. "We're to stand by for inspection. Admiral Nakamura will be coming aboard. No details."
Saavik pondered. She had known Katsu Nakamura briefly as an ensign. He had struck her as thoughtful, but more of an administrator than a field officer. "Admiral Nakamura has been assigned oversight of the Betazed salient. I trust he has more urgent concerns than the accumulation of dust on consoles. I also trust that you have set no one to polishing them?"
"Commodore, I regard this inspection as very important. I have therefore assigned one crewman to push the rubble we chucked into the starboard airlock anteroom from one end to the other."
"Your sense of propriety is to be commended. I have the bridge."
"Aye, Commodore. Begin Alpha shift."
As the officers and senior NCO's of the Forge snapped to attention and the bo'sun attempted to clear a piece of crud from his whistle, Sito reflected that, dirty uniforms and all, this was possibly the first parade that had ever impressed her. What this admiral might think, she didn't care. These were her crewmates, battle-hardened, competent beyond their years, trained and seasoned by Saavik's thoroughness, tactical acumen and leadership and Sito's particular brand of craziness from her stint with the Maquis, not to mention a string of victories that made the Jem'Hadar look like slouches. Nearly a fifth were Vulcans, a testament to the memory of Saavik's stint commanding the old Vulcan-crewed USS Gol.
"Admiral on deck!"
Nakamura's eyebrow was almost Vulcan in the altitude it achieved as he took in the scene before him. "Permission to come aboard, Commodore?"
"Granted, Admiral. May I present my officers and chiefs?"
"We don't have much time here, so forgive me if I skip the formalities. In recognition of the extraordinary achievements of the USS Forge in engaging and routing the enemy on numerous occasions, and most notably in single-handedly repelling their recent attempt to take the Berengarian system, the USS Forge is hereby awarded her third Presidential Unit Citation. There it is, people. We've been busting our buts here just keeping the Jem'Hadar from planet-hopping from Betazed to the core planets, and every time I send in a fleet, I know I'll get back, on average, a seventh less than I sent in. For some reason, you and your squadron seem able to beat those odds. I know you've all been in combat for awhile, and I'd like to grant you shore leave. But we need you on the line, just a little longer. Right now, there are a dozen ships moving in to rendezvous with us, all from the second fleet, all with a reputation for being a little crazy. I know the rest of your squadron is needed where it is, but I need this ship, and your help. We have to sever the supply lines to Betazed, and right now."
"With twelve ships?" Havir, the Saurian engineer, asked.
"That's why I came to you. Commodore, I'd like to meet with your senior staff in two hours. Meanwhile, set a course for Taj Rock, warp eight. The rest will meet us en route."
"Aye sir." Sito detected a note of the sardonic resignation in Saavik's acknowledgement.
"What do you think it means?" Starras'thi, the Caitian Communications officer, asked Sito as they mustered to stations.
"It means," Aneala mel'Tora, the Andorian marine detachment commander opined, "that Starfleet's desperate enough to try something that might actually work."
"If that were true," T'Shanik, the Vulcan science officer said darkly, "they would not have sent the admiral along." T'Shanik, a full commander, was the daughter of one of Saavik's former crewmates and had requested the assignment. She officially held the First Officer billet, while Sito functioned as Executive Officer. T'Shanik had insisted upon the arrangement, pointing out that Sito's role in developing new tactics and techniques for the Forge's crew and the entire squadron logically required that the regulations be bent. In many ways, the Forge's crew, as tightly disciplined as it was in battle, operated like a special forces unit, with expertise rather than formal command structure as the primary currency.
Less than an hour later, Nakamura was on the bridge, whispering with Saavik, as his aide walked from station to station without saying a word, making notes and generally looking disapproving, when the ship shook violently.
"Cloaked pulse-mass mine," T'Shanik reported. "Scanning for the carrion-birds."
"Warp field interrupted. Structural integrity holding. Ninety seconds to engine reset," the engineering chief on the bridge reported.
"Battle alert, ahead full impulse," Saavik ordered.
"What is it?" Nakamura asked.
Saavik answered as she joined T'Shanik at the science station. "The Dominion has begun deploying cloaked mines designed to emit a powerful gravimetric pulse, collapsing the warp-field of passing ships. On less sturdy vessels, structural integrity would collapse. There is most likely a Jem'Hadar patrol nearby, waiting for victims."
"There," T'Shanik said, "powering up in the asteroid field. One cruiser and six fighters. ETA ten seconds."
Instantly, Saavik snapped, "Pitch up, starboard yo-yo! Torpedoes."
"Away," Sito said. The Jem'Hadar didn't have time to alter their entry points. Two fighters collided with a spread of quantum torpedoes at warp-transitional velocities, with spectacular results.
"Cruiser, then aft at the fighters," Saavik ordered.
The Forge had rolled "over" the Jem'Hadar formation and now descended on the cruiser with the full force of its enhanced main phasers, rotary pulse phaser cannon and quantum torpedoes. As it slewed starboard to avoid the cruiser and rolled port to dodge return fire, another spread of torpedoes caught the fighter that was slowest to chase them, and therefore easiest to acquire. The Forge jerked "up" and Sito hit first one attack ship, then another, with the full force of the ship's five dorsal phaser arrays.
That left one fighter and the catastrophically damaged cruiser. "Kamikaze!" T'Shanik warned.
Sito cringed, wishing she were doing the piloting.
The Horta helmsman shook himself and turned the ship on its axis, 180 degrees. The acceleration of the new engines was impressive; it took less than a second to reverse course at full impulse. The manouvre allowed the Forge to dodge the oncoming fighter by the skin of its teeth. Arcing around to meet the fighter head-on once again, in what started as a scissors and ended at the merge with two crazy cork-screws, the Forge's forward phasers managed to dwell on target long enough to vapourise it.
As the damage report came up on the holotac, Saavik ordered Staaras'thi to warn all Starfleet ships in the area that the route was mined. "Have them employ active tachyon scans and avoid choke points between proximate star systems such as this one. Clearly, this tactic depends on concealment of the ambushing force."
Nakamura was slightly shaken. The battle had moved much faster, and the crew acted with much more initiative, than he was used to. It would take time to process. "What about the cruiser?" he asked.
"We have already taken measures. Cargo bay four is empty and hermetically isolated."
"Another taskforce CBDR- Cardassian. Two Galors, a Keldon and three Hidekis," T'Shanik said. "Thirty seconds to intercept."
"Warp field restored," Engineering reported.
"Ready warp thrusters. Attack pattern epsilon, target Hidekis, then the Keldon. Approach ventral and broadside. Once we have disabled the Hidekis and damaged the Keldon, drop to impulse between the Galor-class vessels."
"You're not actually considering this?" Nakamura pleaded. "We can outrun them."
"Not in a minefield."
"Then wait for the Seneca, she's only five minutes out." He indicated the display.
"The longer we remain in this area, the more attention we will draw," Saavik said forcefully. "We must achieve victory quickly and evade, and we must certainly not wait for the rest of the task force to enter their sensor range. The mission you described to me requires surprise, speed and stealth, or it will have no chance of success."
"Then why drop to impulse at all?"
Saavik's patience was wearing thin. "In Earth naval terminology it was called 'engaging the enemy more closely.' The best place for a single attacker is in among the enemy fleet. The Ambassador class is suited to this. Proceed," she ordered to forestall further questions.
The Hideki-class fighters, Saavik had rightly determined, were the most dangerous opponents, but could be dealt with fairly easily using the warp thruster technology to access warp-transitional speeds- higher than full impulse but below the speed of light. There was no tactic to deal with this, unless one possessed warp thrusters or was not the aggressor and therefore could take the battle to warp. The Hidekis were demolished in a series of hit-and-dodge attacks, and then the Forge got to work on the Keldon class heavy cruiser. The Cardassians attempted covering fire, but unlike the Forge, their weapons were concentrated fore and aft, while the Forge was striking amidships.
"Now?" the helmsman asked.
"Now," Saavik affirmed.
The Forge appeared in the centre of the three remaining Cardassian ships, relying on its new regenerative shields, armour and sturdy construction to keep it intact. The Cardassians attempted to manouvre and bring their weapons to bear, but fear of friendly fire and the 720 degree phaser coverage of the Forge soon began to tell. It became a vicious dogfight at a quarter of the speed of light. The Forge acquired the Keldon easily and drilled through to the warp core.
"That will suffice," Saavik said. "Mr. Korisk, let us now leave the field to the Seneca."
Surely enough, the Akira-class cruiser dropped out of warp, unleashing its considerable torpedo arsenal on the weakened Cardassians. First one warp core blew, then the shockwave exploded the other in a pair of small novas.
"Staara'sthi, open a channel if you please… Captain Ayara, shall we not collect our prisoners and vacate the field?"
A Caitian woman appeared on the viewscreen. "With a good will, Commodore Saavik. Where shall we go?"
"Where does your hunter's instinct tell you?"
"The Oglala asteroid field."
"Excellent. By way of PS3-225, of course, thereby allowing us to cover our tracks. We will relay our destination to the other vessels."
"Excuse me," Nakamura put in, "what are you talking about?"
Saavik brought up stellar cartography on the main holotac. "This is PS3-225, a pulsar that will enable us to mask our warp trail and foil any pursuit. This is the Oglala system. It has a large and mineral-rich asteroid field that has been mined for centuries. We can take measures to conceal ourselves as derelict mining vessels. We will be within striking distance of Taj Rock, in addition to two alternate concealment points, in the form of these planetary nebulae."
"The plan will require us to be in PS5-607 nebula."
"All the more reason not to go there at first," Ayara put in.
"Indeed," Saavik confirmed. "I suggest separate routes. Avoid star systems, employ tacheyon beams and send warp probes ahead of you in case of unwelcome company."
"Don't worry," Ayara said. "No one knows stealth and stalking as Caitians do. We will see you there. Long life and prosperity to you."
"I would not care to place a wager upon it," Saavik said. "Good hunting."
The Caitian grinned and vanished from the screen.
"Now, Lt. Sito, please take Major mel'Tora and see to our guests. And then Admiral, I believe it is time you briefed my staff."
"Uh, of course."
Saavik found Nakamura and his aide in the conference room ten minutes later looking quite phased. She took her seat and waited for him to speak.
After another minute, he said, without turning his head, "I don't like it. I don't like fighting this war, I don't like what we become in order to fight it. I don't like the way space combat has changed. Your officers, they take immense initiative, more like fighter pilots than naval officers. No restraint, no point-by point, no waiting for orders. Then again, if they did wait, we'd be dead. Then there's you. I've never seen such… ruthless application of logic in tactics, such recklessness, more like a hunter than a Starfleet officer. But, I suppose, that's also why I need you. I feel like a man riding a mustang, I can't steer, I can't stop to question or get off. I just have to hang on. And I don't like it."
"Then sir, may I suggest that, like all equestrian champions, you try to become part of the horse."
At that moment, Sito and Major Anaela mel'Tora entered. "Prisoners secure, Commodore," Sito announced, "and very well guarded and watched. Two Vorta survived. We extracted their suicide implants in transport. I put the senior one in the brig for interrogation and left the other one to try and restrain the Jem'Hadar."
"Good luck to him," Nakamura opined. "Sito, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"The Maquis officer. That was some impressive work back there."
"Ensign Korisk did the difficult part, sir. I just took the shots he gave me."
"Spoken like a pilot. Tell me, Lieutenant, you've served with the Commodore for what, about eight months now?"
"Almost, sir."
"Do you ever feel like you're…"
"On a rollercoaster without a restraint? All the time, sir. You get used to it."
"That's what I'm afraid of, Lieutenant."
The rest of the staff was assembled, except for T'Shanik, who had the bridge.
"Alright," Nakamura began. "The Dominion is building up forces and supplies for a major thrust toward the core planets. Taj Rock, the L-class world orbiting P6X- 235, houses a joint Horta- Denebian mining and manufacturing colony and an orbital civilian space station, both of which the Dominion has taken over. They've fortified the world as the last key waypoint between the Cardassian Union and Betazed. Their supply convoys muster here for the final leg. They prefer to stockpile on Taj Rock, closer to home, and transfer to Betazed as needed. We have to disrupt their ability to bring supplies forward, or risk a major breakout."
"That's it?" Staaras'thi asked.
"With all due respect, Admiral," Anaela said, "the best way to do this would be to call in the 34th Marine Expeditionary Brigade. This colony is perfect territory for their skills, especially considering the colony's population. We even have some Horta in the Brigade who've lived on Taj Rock."
"Believe me Major, I understand the special skills the 34th brings. That's why the USS Madrash will be picking up a battalion of their troops. General T'thon tells me you're the one to command it. Feel up to it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. That's the commando component. Ship-wise, we'll have the Forge, the Seneca, another Ambassador/ Akira pair, two each of Steamrunners and New Orleans, a pair of the new Defiants, a Renaissance and a Sequoia."
"I suppose a Sovereign was too much to ask for," Havir lamented.
"Too well-watched," Nakamura said. "Right now, my flagship is out stirring up six kinds of havoc to draw attention away from us. It was difficult enough getting the Ambassadors, Akiras and Defiants. Believe me, they're in high demand."
"What is the name of the second Ambassador-class vessel?" Saavik asked.
"The Vibia. I believe you know Captain Eliya?"
"Indeed." Eliya had been first officer on a Wambundu-class scout when Saavik had discovered her. That ship had been so decisive in Saavik's intelligence and covert operations that it became indispensible, until one day, the ship was found badly damaged surrounded by the remains of a wing of Jem'Hadar fighters. The captain had been killed, along with most of the bridge crew. Eliya had single-handedly reduced an entire Jem'Hadar wing with a damaged, obsolete scout. Saavik had employed her own and several of her former students' influence to ensure that she was given the next major command available.
"It can be done," Saavik said.
Her officers looked at her.
"A larger, more powerful fleet will not help us here. In this, the Admiral was correct." Sito's mind translated instantaneously: It's a good thing that the Admiral knew enough to give us ships that are actually useful for this kind of operation, instead of Excelsiors, or worse, Galaxies and Nebulas. Then we'd really be sunk. "We must creatively employ the tools at our disposal," Saavik continued. "And the greatest tool is the ingenuity we all possess. Discuss options among yourselves. All and any ideas will be entertained, with preference for asymmetric methods." Sito's dimple appeared. She must be glad someone invented that word. Otherwise she might have to openly defend craziness as being logical. "Lt. Sito will lead a planning session tomorrow at 0800. If that is all?"
Sito lingered in the ship's bar, solemnly coined The Lesser of Two Weevils by Commodore Saavik, after a 19th century Royal Navy wardroom joke, to the complete mystification of anyone who did not understand, as Sito did, that Saavik actually possessed a sophisticated sense of humour. She simply understood it as a branch of aesthetics rather than a frivolous indulgence. The brainstorming session between herself, Anaela and T'Shanik had broken up an hour ago, but Sito always found it easier to think when the stars she was staring at were coming toward her, a luxury her quarters did not provide. The reflection approaching behind her was less welcome, however.
"May I join you, Lieutenant?" Admiral Nakamura asked.
"Sit down, Admiral."
"Got you another tea. Herbal, of course."
Now Sito was put on guard. Admirals, in her experience, did not bring you tea, except perhaps as the opening gambit to a dressing-down. "Thank you. Ginger?"
"An old favourite of mine. So, any thoughts on saving the universe?"
"That's not what you're here to ask, sir."
"True. Alright, I'll admit it. I'm curious. Your record caught my attention, and I expected someone, well, hardened, bitter, not someone who reminds me of my granddaughter. And yet you did do all those things. You showed me today what you can do in combat, and clearly you keep up with Commodore Saavik, which I find challenging at best."
Sito smiled. "I owe it all to clean living and insanity in the family, sir. I follow Saavik because she's been there. She's suffered, and somehow she harnesses that to make one of the most extraordinary people I know. She's got the best of Vulcan, all the sanity, the calm, the compassion, but also the passion and instinct of the old Vulcan."
"Was she the reason you stayed in Starfleet?"
"No, Commander Worf persuaded me before I met her."
"May I ask how? I'm not asking as an admiral, you don't have to answer if you don't want to. I'm just curious."
"He said, 'Don't let the blood of the past become the blood of the future.' When I watched the Federation sit back and do nothing as the DMZ colonies and most of my friends were annihilated, I was ripped apart. We all were. Ready to leave the Federation for good and not look back. The way the Federation ignored what happened to those people- it made everything this uniform is supposed to stand for a monstrous lie. I will never forget what happened- none of us will. But we will do what it takes, whatever it takes, to defeat the Dominion and the Cardassians."
"You keep saying 'us.' You were officially an operative on a covert mission, you could have just come back with no questions asked. But you identified yourself as a Maquis. I take it you still do."
"Yes, sir."
"And when the war is over?"
"We'll try to rebuild, somewhere. And we will declare independence, and we won't be the last. Those colonies started with people trying to find an alternative to the Federation way. The Federation has to be shown that it can't absorb everyone, that its way of life is not the only way. And those of us still serving the Federation will do everything we can to make sure it will adhere to its principles. It's time to stop non-interference, and start respecting difference, to respect self-determination and yet also the other universal rights. If the Federation can become that, maybe it can help make this galaxy a better place. If not… the Federation as it was, bloated and self-satisfied, is already dead. It just hasn't realized it yet."
"I'm not sure I like the sound of that."
"You're speaking with a Maquis, sir. Starfleet took us back because we had skills and expertise you needed. We want what's best for the Federation- but that means doing everything we can to make sure that what happened on the border colonies never happens again."
Nakamura considered that. "It'll take a lot of doing, what you're suggesting."
"How many ships, how many experienced officers do we lose every day, Admiral? Necessity, as you humans say, is the mother of invention."
"Well, if nothing else, I'm glad that you can still find it within yourself to try to improve the Federation. In your place, I'm not sure I could do that."
"I'm Bajoran, sir. If bitterness were a well and I jumped in, I would have drowned a long time ago."
"So, cadet pilot to junior tactical officer to Maquis to XO. Nice career path?"
Sito chuckled. "I wouldn't generally recommend it, Admiral. Actually, all those job descriptions have more in common than you might think."
"How so?"
"The require a certain brand of craziness, a desire to make a difference and a certain… what did Laren call it? Irrepressibility. All things being equal, a few more years to make XO would have been nice. But right now, I'm a valuable resource for Starfleet, too valuable to waste as cog in the machine. Starfleet has spent too long without a serious challenge, so you think like bureaucrats. I think like a pilot and a rebel. Without that kind of lateral thinking, without the ability to use what you have to hit a superior enemy in the right spot, without the kind of psychological calculation and long-range planning and short-term craziness that involves, I don't think the Federation can win. I'm not sure how to run a ship, but I am sure how to run a Maquis cell. The Jem'Hadar and Cardassians know how to be excellent soldiers, and they know how to deal with insurgencies internally. But they don't have an answer for a Maquis with the resources of Starfleet."
"Mel'Tora to Sito."
"Go ahead."
"The Jem'Hadar First is insisting on speaking with Commodore Saavik."
"What about?"
"He wouldn't say. I've scanned him down to the micro-cellular level, and the Doctor Selar's done the same. He appears to be clean. I had him change into fatigues just to be careful, and I and three marines are available for guard detail."
"Alright Anaela. Give me five to set it up. Oh, and don't beam him directly, site-to-site. Reintegrate and scan him in the transporter room first."
"Understood. I'll set it up and report back. Mel'Tora out."
Sito liked the Andorian Commando-turned Starfleet Marine. She had the serenity and gentleness of her part-Aenar heritage combined with unerring acumen for getting covert and commando operations done with brilliance, efficiency and a minimum of casualties. Sito trusted her judgment completely, and numerous missions with the Forge's marine platoon had made their professional interaction virtually seamless. More than that, Sito appreciated that mel'Tora had always followed her orders implicitly, despite being technically superior in rank.
"What do you suppose this is about?" Nakamura asked. "I trust you beamed over a supply of ketracel white?"
"More than enough. A Jem'Hadar prisoner of war wouldn't expect his captors to take an interest in him. Whatever it is, it's important."
Chapter 2: Crimson Sky
"This is rather excessive," Saavik commented. Three marines plus Major mel'Tora and Lieutenant Sito waited in the conference room to greet the First, besides Admiral Nakamura.
"Humour us," Sito and mel'Tora said in unison.
"You marines may wait outside. You two may stay."
The marines, (two tentacled Sulamids and a Caitian- mel'Tora was clearly not going for subtlety) shifted uncomfortably. Mel'Tora looked at Sito, who reluctantly nodded.
"Commence transport."
This First was rather tall even for a Jem'Hadar, and had more extra ridges than Kahless. Saavik was not daunted or diminished.
"I am First Ikal'iktan," he pronounced.
"I am Saavik. State your purpose."
"What will become of my men?"
"They will be placed in biomedical suspension until they can be exchanged for Federation prisoners. That is not why you are here."
"You are committing a grave tactical error. If you attempt to sever our supply lines, placing Betazed in a state of siege, the Founder will annihilate the Betazoid population."
"Why are you telling me this and not the Vorta?"
"Because I have orders they know nothing about. The Founder orders me to speak to you, warrior to warrior, and to say that we know all about Admiral Nakamura's plan. We propose an exchange."
Saavik's face did not change. "Major, please arrest Admiral Nakamura and his entourage immediately. Beam them into the brig and subject them to a phaser sweep. Failing that, ask the admiral who else knew about his plan and send a warp probe back to the flagship with that information and instructions to screen those individuals."
"Are you crazy, Commodore? What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"You can be stunned here or in the brig, Admiral," Saavik said evenly. "And when you awake, you will see that I have done what I must."
When mel'Tora had complied, Saavik indicated the First should continue.
"Your tactics have been studied, and each point of concealment near the world of Taj Rock has been staked out. You will stand no chance. The Founder proposes that you withdraw immediately. In exchange, we will not only reveal the source of our information, but also release to you every surviving Federation prisoner of war. Since one of these is a Fleet Admiral with operant-level access to all Starfleet systems and intimate knowledge of Earth's defences and the functioning of the Federation Security Council, you may wish to comply."
"Earth's defences will become a concern at the point when the Federation is defeated, not before. If the offer is sincere, you have either found a way to acquire operant-level access already, or have found Admiral Tial impervious to questioning. In any case, I fail to see any way in which this offer conforms to your interests."
"Then you have not considered the impact of releasing thousands of broken, demoralized prisoners- or the danger to our image in being forced to eradicate a planetary population."
Saavik paced until she was behind the First. Without warning, she turned and snapped his neck.
"Saavik to transporter bay, lock onto the Jem'Hadar First and beam him into space. Quickly! It is a matter of life and death."
"Ah, yes ma'am."
Sito would have been stunned if someone else had done what Saavik had done. As it is, she merely raised an eyebrow.
"There is only one reason," Saavik said quietly, "why the Dominion would be willing to release all prisoners of war at one time. Starfleet takes certain precautions to ensure that operant-level access cannot be taken by force, precautions that the Vulcan adepts helped to create."
"Operant-level?"
"A level of computer access enabling one person to control any computer system in the fleet, alter any of its protocols and access the most deeply buried level of encrypted files and protocols. Needless to say, access is restricted to Fleet Admirals and a handful of others, and those individuals are programmed to safeguard the information with their lives. But those precautions do not protect other things. Admiral Tial was once a science officer whose academic work centred on biological contaminant procedures. His work is still the basis of all Starfleet containment procedures. I am not certain how, but the Dominion must have engineered a contagion capable of overcoming those safeguards, a contagion the released prisoners would carry. A logical backup plan was to use the Jem'Hadar as carriers. The cargo bay and brig are fully sealed, so that left the First."
"I see. So how do we-"
"Mel'Tora to Saavik. Commodore, we have a Changeling in custody."
"Who?"
"Not who, what. I took the liberty of accessing internal sensor records of the Admiral's cabin since he came aboard."
"Looking for something that moved?" Sito asked.
"No, the new security system is quite good about overt movement, but I suggest we add conservation of mass to its skill set. It seems the Admiral's briefcase grew through the desk and accessed the comm system. It is now safely in custody."
"Well thought, Major."
"Also, Admiral Nakamura wishes to see you in his quarters at your earliest convenience."
"I'll just bet," Sito observed under her breath.
"Tell him I will be there shortly. Saavik out."
"I assume you want to find whatever Dominion ship is out there watching us with a Changeling aboard," Sito observed.
"And if there were such a ship and we found it, what would be the next logical step?"
"We capture it, get the location of Admiral Tial, destroy the bioweapon research and cut the supply lines before the Dominion realizes their strategy has failed."
"Correct. And Lieutenant, order the other ships to halt and find cover in place."
"Yes Commodore."
"Commodore, and I use that title for the moment, this is unacceptable. You don't just arrest a fellow flag officer and shoot a phaser at him just because some Jem'Hadar soldier tells you there's a security breach. Now, I expect a full apology to myself and my aides, and then I expect you to brief me fully on what transpired after you beamed me into the brig. You will consider yourself under arrest pending charges of detention without probable cause, mistreatment of prisoners in your custody, conduct unbecoming an officer and gross violation of investigative procedure, not to mention assault on a superior officer. I will be assuming command of this vessel."
"Very well," Saavik said evenly. "After you were transported to the brig, the Jem'Hadar offered me a complete return of all prisoners of war including Fleet Admiral Tial in exchange for our immediate withdrawal. Realizing that Admiral Tial possesses extensive knowledge of Federation biological screening procedures, I deduced that the only reason for such an offer was to deploy a bioweapon throughout Federation space. Thereupon, realizing that the Jem'Hadar was about to release this weapon if I refused the offer, I killed him and beamed his body into space. No doubt you will wish to add that to my charge sheet. Major mel'Tora's diligence uncovered a Changeling infiltrator masquerading as your briefcase, which is now in custody. Knowing what to look for, our Doctor Selar and I have been able to isolate the pathogen ingredients in the Jem'Hadar's transporter trace. It is a cross-phasic stem stored in a single gland, in this case a self-destruct gland specially implanted in the First for this mission. The stem uses the host DNA to create a highly randomized virus which it can selectively reprogram to act as a mitochondrial toxin in most carbon-based species in which mitochondria occur. It is impervious to transporter biofiltration and goes through five to seven hosts in a benign form before becoming virulent. Once released, the initial virus particles replicate into many different forms of the virus, making it next to impossible to target, while the cross-phasic stems, which also multiply, make the disease impossible to contain using methods currently in place. It is lethal within sixty-four hours in most species.
"We have sent this information to Starfleet Medical and advised them to warn all Starfleet and allied units. I have also ordered all ships of the task force to halt in place, pending re-evaluation of our mission objective. We have located a cloaked Jem'Hadar vessel shadowing us at a distance of three light years, and are prepared to capture it, and the Founder aboard who has doubtless orchestrated this plan. I recommend that you proceed immediately so as to extract the locations of Admiral Tial and the bioweapon research, which must be destroyed even as you proceed to sever the supply lines to Betazed. If there is nothing else?"
Nakamura had had a long career and lived through the Borg threat, so this did not phase him. "And how exactly were you planning to capture this cloaked ship?"
"By violating the Treaty of Algeron, Admiral. We are constructing several rudimentary cloaking devices, which we will then attach to four warp-capable tactical drones, each fitted for a specific phase of the mission. These cloaks, while primitive, will suffice against a ship which is itself under cloak, in this case by a captured Klingon device whose specifications we know. Once the drones have executed their missions, the vessel and its crew, including the Changeling, will be disabled, and the Forge will have five minutes to traverse the distance and secure the ship and the Founder."
"And once you have this second Founder? I doubt it will cooperate, unless of course you were planning to torture it."
Saavik stiffened at the suggestion. "That will be quite unnecessary Admiral. A mind-meld will suffice."
"We've tried that; the Founders are impervious."
"You have tried with a single Vulcan, Admiral. There are over one hundred on this ship. Their focused willpower is not something any single being can contend with."
Nakamura considered that. "Alright. You can stay in command if you think you can pull this off. But subject to my orders. I reserve the right to countermand you at any point, and to press charges when we're through here."
"Very well. In that case, Admiral, might I suggest that you accompany me to the bridge?"
The drones approached the Jem'Hadar vessel undetected. The Forge's advanced sensors, once alerted to what they were looking for, were able to track the disturbance of space dust, particle trajectories, the ship's tiny mass shadow and even the effect of its sensors on nearby subatomic processes. The Dominion would have been better off stealing one of the new Romulan phasing cloaks.
The first cloaked drone impacted the ship and sheared off a warp nacelle. The second drilled a hole with the high-powered phaser emitter it carried through the ship's transporter-resistant surface. The third beamed high-energy stun grenades throughout the ship. The fourth executed a pre-set sequence of transporter functions designed to disrupt critical systems, including the cloaking device, self-destruct, weapons, shields and intruder control. The drone did not need to actually rematerialize anything- merely to dematerialize the right things. It had been T'Shanik's idea.
A few seconds later, the Forge dropped out of warp, beaming over a marine detachment. They tagged the Jem'Hadar and the Founder (discovered in a puddle on the bridge) for transport once Selar had certified them free of the pathogen, and secured the ship for T'Shanik and Staaras'thi to get to work on their communications and navigation logs. The whole operation had taken less than five minutes.
"Very impressive," Nakamura conceded. "So long as the Romulans don't find out."
"Indeed. Would you care to witness the interrogation?"
"I wouldn't miss it. Besides, I have a bone to pick with my briefcase."
Chapter 3: Balance of Judgment
The two changelings had been put in the same cell, due to shortage of space. Over forty Vulcans were gathered in the anteroom, all looking dreadfully calm.
"You cannot possibly think that this… gathering can intimidate us. Your solid minds hold no terror for us," one of the changelings said.
Saavik simply sat in front of the cell, crossing her legs.
It began imperceptibly. Like a slow change in pressure, the room began to fill with the focus of Vulcan minds working together. Nakamura's skin began to crawl. It felt like standing out in a lightning storm, but much worse. He felt himself drawn into the group focus. It was calm, quiet, not searching, simply perceiving. He felt the intense undertones of surprising feeling: mutual loyalty, integrity, community, love of a sort, a desire for peace, a cold feeling toward the Dominion and the Founders and what they had attempted. A strong feeling of personal loyalty toward Saavik, all very matter-of-fact, very logical, and much more than logic. Nakamura felt the thread that made them all truly Vulcan, the Tao that Surak had given them. My God, he thought. This is what Vulcans really are, what they're capable of. We think of them as touch telepaths, but just by letting down their barriers and quieting their minds, they can become this. What they mean by logic must be so much more than we ever thought of attributing to the concept. It doesn't just mean the rational mind or causality. It means integrity, personal potential, spiritual strength… Thank God they're on our side.
The Founders began to cringe, then to shake. It was not that the Vulcans were breaking in and they attempting to fight them off. It was merely that the Vulcans perceived. Everything the Founders were and had done came under that gentle, impassive gaze; and the ruthlessness of their deeds, the depth of their fear and hatred could not bear the light of logic, of cthia. Suddenly, first one and then the other began to rapidly and uncontrollably assume different forms with different parts of themselves as they manifested the inner turmoil this new gaze brought. One moment, a tabletop lamp was connected via a bird's wing to the torso of a Starfleet officer, and the next Nakamura's briefcase appeared with the head of a Tzenkethi and the tentacles of an octopus. And then, with the rest of the group, Nakamura felt it. There. The Admiral and the weapons facility are both on Lantash II. Those clever, clever bastards. They knew everything the Founders knew about the facility and the project. Incidentally also the defences on Taj Rock, the shipping schedules and the plan of attack from Betazed.
Saavik stood slowly, sending mental gratitude to her kin. "Thank you for your assistance," she said, addressing the Founders.
"There is more than one Link."
Leaving them with that devastating thought, Saavik turned and left.
Saavik's quarters were, in one sense of the word, Spartan, yet no one could ever mistake them for anyone else's. For one thing, the temperature and gravity were set much higher than normal, and the light within much further toward the red spectrum. For another, there were numerous small touches all around telling of the being who lived there. Nakamura recognized a portrait of Saavik with Ambassadors Spock and Sarek and the Lady Amanda. One wall bore miniatures of the four ships Saavik had commanded, including the Gol, Enterprise B and Forge, and beneath, rows of tiny pictures of numerous beings, perhaps three hundred. The desk bore a well-crafted Vulcan writing set in addition to computers. Shelves of antique books stood behind it, framing a collection of bladed weapons, one of which looked suspiciously like a S'harien. An obsolete tricorder rested beneath them. In a corner, a Vulcan firepot-beast smoldered beside a baseball, signed "To the Photon Torpedo, for giving us the entire series. Love the Team." A 3-d chess table was set up in front of them. The room was standard officers' quarters for the class, with a single small viewport, now shuttered for combat operations. A couch and the chairs at the chess table were the only concessions to creature comfort, and judging by the hard bed were mainly intended for guests.
Nakamura found Saavik sitting cross-legged on the floor in a corner that was clearly devoted to meditation, lit by an oil-lamp which was perforated to cast tiny points of light like stars around the room. "This isn't easy for me to say," he began. "You did what you had to do. If one of us had been the Changeling, you couldn't risk the possibility of letting us loose on the ship. You haven't done anything but what you had to do.
"Dammit, I'm not James T. Kirk, I'm the first to admit that, though I doubt even he could keep up with you sometimes. You're a product of that era, when starship captains really had to be their own ambassadors and admirals. I'm a product of twenty-five years of relative peace that you were in stasis for. And maybe we did become a bureaucracy, maybe we were reduced to pretending to be a real fleet when we were nothing but the coastguard. But what the hell were we supposed to do? Just tell me that."
Saavik raised an eyebrow, the first sign of movement since the Admiral had entered her quarters. Then, slowly, she opened her eyes and rose with cat-like grace. "Would you care for some tea, Admiral?"
She poured two cups and gestured for him to sit. Saavik took a sip before replying. "You could have been prepared. You could have realized that you were growing too far, too fast, growth you hadn't earned. You could have foreseen the problems that peace and hegemony were leaving unaddressed to fester in dark places. You could have understood that the Federation has no manifest destiny, that somewhere, you would meet an opponent more formidable and older than any of the small empires we had encountered in the past. You could have sought the wisdom of the older space-faring races in the galactic core, whom I note with displeasure I was the second-to-last Federation captain to contact. You could have constructed genuine starships rather than pleasure resorts in space. If you had read and understood your own Sun Tzu, you would have done this and more. But that is the past. Now Starfleet must re-learn everything from the beginning. The cost of these lessons has already been great. You cannot afford not to learn."
Nakamura exhaled. "Alright. Alright, I'm tired of sending my ships off to get slaughtered. Is there a way to make my fleet as effective as your squadron?"
"First, you must identify officers and units that have performed well, and give them assignments and resources suited to their expertise. Second, you must not hesitate to relieve otherwise competent officers who cannot adapt to this situation, or to promote those who can to the positions where they can do the most good. You must place a captain who knows how to command a fleet in battle over an admiral who does not, and enforce such appointments ruthlessly. Third, you must train your fleet in genuine coordination. Melee battles are a frivolous waste of lives. Your fleet commanders must be able to communicate each part of their battle plan instantly to the ships under their command, and the officers on those ships must have the initiative to execute those orders and to exploit split-second opportunities without waiting for orders. Study ancient aerial and cavalry tactics. The ability to execute complex manouvre warfare and mobility, speed, initiative and striking power are essential. Develop new and daring tactics. The art of surprise in war has no end but the limits of imagination. Fourth, you must give the ships that are capable of this absolute priority in shipyards and on the battle line. As it is, the Galaxy and Nebula classes are too sluggish and the Mirandas and earlier-model Excelsiors are a liability. There are ways to use them better. Place Mirandas in support of fighter squadrons, use Excelsiors for point defence and order the Galaxies to leave their saucer modules behind. I suggest that the construction priorities currently employed at Aradain shipyards be adopted universally. The Vulcan and Andorian yards are already doing so. Build and update the ships that work, and quickly implement the improvements known to be effective. You have seen how our capabilities are enhanced by warp thrusters, by holographic bridge displays for situational awareness, regenerative shields and ablative armour. Do not waste manpower building ships that are less effective, even if the materials are available. This war can be won by building Sovereigns, Ambassadors, Akiras, Steamrunners, Sabres, Defiants, Sequioas, Wambundus and a few others. If you must build Galaxies, you are a fool if you waste time constructing the saucer sections. You must learn to employ the various classes properly. The faster and more powerful ships should constitute their own formation and not be forced to hang back to support the rest. This task force is a perfect example.
"You must differentiate between the main fleet, whose purpose is to tie down the enemy, and the operational manouvre group, whose purpose is to flank and destroy the enemy and must have the initiative and mobility to do so without interference. Reward risk-taking and lateral thinking, especially when it breaks from established rules and doctrines, and move quickly to implement new tactics, technologies and lessons as they develop. Good ideas from any source must be rewarded and disseminated quickly with no regard for any criterion but effectiveness. Restore initiative to your captains and lower officers, and they will reward you with great feats. Stop worrying about holding the line and send your manouvre groups deep into the enemy's rear. Again, this task force is a good beginning. Keep them off balance, misdirect them, lure them into traps. Make your objectives non-obvious. You have wasted countless lives on the idea that Betazed must be recaptured and the core worlds protected, when the fate of both is in fact a function of routing the enemy's fleet. Let the Dominion play positional warfare. Energy depleted fighting for control of star systems is wasted. By all means, let the Dominion think that you mean to re-take territory, thereby compelling them to waste energy on a defensive posture, so long as you strike at targets which you have selected for physical and psychological impairment or misdirection of their fleet's ability to function. The more planets they have to protect, the better for us. Invest in special operations. The Founders may think in those terms, but the Cardassians and Jem'Hadar do not. Cultivate havoc and paranoia among the enemy in this way. The effectiveness of this kind of warfare is out of all proportion to the resources invested when done well."
Nakamura was more than a little taken aback. "If my captains don't mutiny, my superiors will."
"Don't let them. If you believe a measure is in the best interests of your command, implement it firmly until its worth can be plainly seen."
"But, the very idea of not re-taking planets- the Federation Council will never agree to it."
"They will agree when they see that this way results in re-taking more worlds with fewer casualties than a direct assault would."
"But these plans have to approved, consulted. I'd never get approval."
"You do not require approval. As a field commander in time of war, you have been given your mission objectives and a certain amount of resources. How you use them is subject to the vagaries of momentary opportunities and changing circumstances and the requirements of operational security. Ask forgiveness when you have proven the value of your plan in the field rather than permission before."
"There are just so many things that people will object to. More than half my captains command ships that would be left behind if I formed these 'operational manouvre groups.' They barely survive with the support of faster, better-armed ships. They'll be howling for my blood."
"Not when they realize that they no longer have to immolate themselves upon the enemy fleet in vain attempts to achieve breakthroughs with numbers."
"I don't know. I just don't know if it's possible politically."
"It will certainly become possible when half the fleet has been expended uselessly. We must do everything we can to accelerate change before we reach that point."
Damn her, Nakamura thought. She's right. Now I have no choice. "What if, between us, we can't make it work?"
"If our two fleets cannot prevail, the Federation faces immanent defeat. Once the Dominion begins taking the core planets, they will ally with every hostile power on our borders. The Federation will implode."
"If that happens, what will you do?"
Saavik fully planned to walk into the Federation Council Chamber and publicly demand unrestricted command of the entire theatre the moment a single Jem'Hadar landed on one of the founding worlds. For Nakamura, she merely raised an eyebrow.
Nakamura left Saavik's quarters feeling like a cadet. He was starting to suspect that he had done very little to advance the mission beyond selecting the task force ships. He had been, in truth, an administrator for close to fifteen years, even when holding field commands. But something about the way Saavik spoke reminded him of the dreams that had led him to don the uniform in the first place. Combined with the immense and life-altering impact of the Vulcan mental probe, he felt the urge to make a difference, to learn, to make sure he did something significant in this war. And the first step toward that, he thought, was to learn as much and as quickly as possible. He strode decisively in the direction of the Marine armory.
Major mel'Tora was just finishing a review of a tactical exercise with one of her fire teams. Nakamura shivered, remembering that this was the same woman who had stunned him earlier in the day. He put it aside. "Don't let me interrupt," he said.
Listening to them, he learned more about modern ground combat than in a year of reading mission reports from his own marine brigades and Starfleet ground forces. In fact, by comparison, standard tactics seemed to amount to little more than "Beam down with phasers. Use same." They already seemed to have a detailed set of tactics worked out for precisely the type of scenario that the mission to Lantash II would require- infiltration of a habitat dome surrounded by the corrosive atmosphere of a Venus-type world and protected by transport scramblers.
When the marines dispersed, Nakamura commented, "Impressive. Think it can be done?"
Mel'Tora's eyes glinted with the serene optimism that blessed her nature. Nakamura abruptly forgot about the phaser stun. "Of course. It's just a question of doing it without attracting undue attention at first."
"I understand you've made some modifications to standard equipment that have proven effective," he said, indicating the rifle racks.
"Actually, we don't use any standard equipment. There are just too many easy improvements that we had to make, improvements that save lives. So, the Andorian Guard took the lead in developing a new set of equipment that the 34th Brigade has been adding to since it was created. This rifle, for example." She handed him one. "The Tor. The dorsal unit is a tight-beam, long-range multi-particle weapon. It can knock a rank pip off your collar from five kilometers away or destroy a Cardassian assault shuttle. It can also be set for stun, of course, as well as an invisible beam and wide-angle settings. The particle accelerator crystals can be swapped out in the field like this, making it ideal in case we ever face the Borg, and resistant to most suppression fields. The ventral unit is a railgun firing 7.62 by 28 ammunition, either high explosive, armour piercing incendiary or sub-caliber tranquillizer darts from a sixty-round top-loading magazine; cyclic rate of fire on full automatic is 320 rounds per minute, effective range over a kilometer. The sight is a self-setting telescopic unit with full-EM spectrum capability and an integral ballistic calculator. The entire unit can be field-stripped in twenty seconds. We've dragged it through mud, sand, vaccum, deep-freeze and corrosive atmospheres, used it as a club, never had a single breakdown. This," she said, grabbing one of the few Type III phaser rifles they still had, "is much more complex, breaks down every day in the field, and doesn't do half as good a job."
"I see. Has R&D seen this?"
"Those idiots haven't even started a production line yet. Ours are all Andorian. Same with whatever we can't replicate for the rest of the gear."
"Yes, about that. I notice none of your people are wearing standard field uniforms."
"I guess there's just something about fighting in pyjamas that makes you feel naked, sir. This is based on Romulan equipment. The inner sleeve is thermal adaptive. The outer layer is carbon nano-tubule laced for resistance to impacts and bladed weapons and vacuum-resistant. With a helmet and gloves, we can go EVA for over an hour on the internal oxygen pack, more if we bring extra. The air filtration and recycling system in the helmet is good for toxic atmospheres, biohazards etc. The vest is refractive, designed to be able to survive an impact from a Jem'Hadar rifle. The uniform can camouflage itself in the environment through a biochemical process, in case gray-brown camo doesn't fit the mission. The boots are magnetic and have anti-grav units built- in for heavy gravity, or when we feel the need to put a spring in our step. This monacle headband provides secure tactical communications, scrambled and hopping all bands. The monacle itself is a head-up display, showing a picture of everything the tricorder can see, adjustable through the wrist console. All sensors in the unit and on the ship are networked."
"What one of you sees, everyone sees?"
"Exactly. The tricorder is a new flip-top model, doubles as an audiovisual communicator. Lots of new bells and whistles. We can also shut down all active equipment to prevent being detected, and deploy counter-measures."
"What's all this other kit?"
"Little of everything. Field medkit, multitools, stun grenades and high explosives, power and recharge units, transport patter enhancer, rations, stun baton, heater, water condenser, combat knives, personal forcefield generator-"
"You're joking."
"Nope. Only lasts about ten minutes, or three hits, whichever comes first. Rigged together, some of our fireteams have survived two minutes of direct fire before being rescued."
"I had no idea. With all our modern technology, we just figured phasers were the final statement in personal combat. No wonder the 34th has done so well."
"Actually, sir, our kit was a little more basic until the Romulans entered the war. We worked with some of their marine units. They were so far advanced that frankly, we couldn't keep up, so we made copies of a lot of their equipment."
"The Romulans are that far ahead?"
"Yes, technologically. The advantages the 34th has been leveraging, the particular skills and abilities and training methods of our various species, those are things they can't match. Neither can the Jem'Hadar."
"Out of curiosity, which races have contributed the most, do you think, to your team's ability? Obviously the Andorians got the ball rolling."
"Hmm. Everyone brings something. The Horta, of course, are a large tactical advantage. The avian species too. The Caitians, reptillians and the Sulamids are fearsome in hand-to-hand, and they allow us to carry much more equipment than we otherwise could. Telepaths, especially the Vulcans, are formidable if you have enough of them."
"I can understand that, after today." Nakamura recalled that his interlocutor was also a telepath and geopath- which brought up an interesting question.
"Plenty of species with warrior and hunting traditions give us advantages in various environments," mel'Tora continued. "We Andorians bring our antennae, some species bring other enhanced senses… Frankly, we aim to make the Founders regret that they designed the Jem'Hadar so unimaginatively."
Nakamura laughed. "And how would you have designed them?"
"Oh, wings and tentacles."
"A flying Sulamid?" They both laughed at the image.
"Seriously though," Nakamura said, "what weapons are you going to use inside the pressure dome? Even if you get in and disable the security system and internal sensors without attracting every Jem'Hadar in place, their hand scanners will more than suffice to read any of these weapons, even the railgun."
"That's why we won't be using them. You're right, our rifles are a liability on this mission; but we do have the technology to dampen Jem'Hadar weapons. We'd rather fight hand to hand and blade to blade."
Nakamura found it difficult to imagine this delicate being slugging it out with a Jem'Hadar. "Suicidal much? There's only, what, three hundred of them after all."
"Oh no admiral," she said quietly. "We're going to break the myth of the Jem'Hadar super-soldier. And we're going to show the entire fleet what hand-to-hand training can do when it's taught right, instead of that crap they teach you at the Academy. Besides, do you know what a Jem'Hadar does when he sees a Horta, or a Vor'shan, or a Sulamid, bearing down on him in anger?"
"The same thing as everyone else."
"Yup."
It took Nakamura a moment to realize that he had allowed himself to completely forget the question he had thought to ask a minute ago. In fact, it was hard to want to raise any adversarial issue with this being. "Changing the subject, Major-"
"Did I know telepathically that you weren't a shape-shifter when I arrested you?"
"Well, yes. Reading my mind, major?"
"My people don't do that. I didn't have to. The answer is yes, of course, and so did Commodore Saavik."
"You mean she-"
"Changelings can align their thoughts and emotions to imitate those of the people they impersonate. Otherwise, we could simply use telepaths. We were pretty sure, but without invading your mind, we couldn't be absolutely sure."
"So given the choice between telepathic assault and physical assault, you chose the latter. I suppose I can live with that."
Chapter 4: Prisoners of Hope
"Alright, we're almost there. Secure helmets, check suits and make sure everything but your sighting monacle is shut down, and passive sensors only for that." Anaela mel'Tora looked over her team with affection. They looked almost as steady as if they weren't about to walk onto an acid-atmosphere planet to assault a heavily-guarded Dominion installation. Two Andorians besides herself, two Caitians, a tentacled Sulamid, a reptilian Vor'shan, a Saurian, three Hortas, a Tellarite, two Vulcans including Commander T'Shanik and Commodore Saavik (who was not one to be left behind; even the thought of leaving the ship to Admiral Nakamura had only furnished her another argument for coming along), herself and Sito rounded out the ensemble. Anaela knew every one of them, their tactics, instincts, preferences, odd habits, and had trained with each for endless hours.
"Shuttle down," the pilot said. "You have a go."
Anaela and Sito nodded to each other. "Alright people, stay together. It's going to be pretty thick out there."
There are very few things that intimidate a Sulamid, or a Vor'shan for that matter. Being surrounded by thick clouds of corrosive vapour was one of them.
"Alright, Hortas forward! And bon appétit."
The three Hortas assigned to the battalion were the key to the operation. They had to burrow through nearly a kilometer of rock to a position beneath the dome.
Anaela only hoped their equipment could withstand the corrosion while they waited. She had made sure their suits could. Within ten minutes, a rather unsteady-looking Horta wobbled out of the tunnel. "Mission accomplished," it said through its voder. "Just hope I won't have to eat much more on this mission. This planet is giving me indigestion."
"Don't worry. We won't have to do the same thing on the way out," Sito said.
"Gas canisters," Anaela said to Hilwae, the Sulamid on the team. The gas was basic, necessary to neutralize the Horta acid in the tunnel.
"Okay, everyone in, T'Shanik first, Hilwae second."
Once they had all piled in and groped their way to the other end, beneath the dome, T'Shanik got started. First, she drilled through the remaining rock to the metallic lower shell of the dome; with Hilwae's help, it took fifteen minutes to make the right size of opening. "No external sensors. I can avoid the internal circuitry," she pronounced. She withdrew an implement from her belt and began to denature the alloy. Once complete, she simply punched through it. "Done. I see supports and floor paneling. No obvious heat sources."
Anaela squeezed past and vaulted up. T'Shanik and Saavik followed. "Scanning with sonar," T'Shanik narrated. "No life-forms within range. Based on the echo-return, I believe it is a water-processing facility." Based on the intelligence obtained from the Founders, this had been their target. "Tracing internal sensor feed… There." She and Saavik located the nearest cabling connecting the room's sensors to the remainder of the system and drilled up to it. Saavik attached a lead and a padd. "System hacked. We can proceed."
Anaela lifted a floor panel and did a quick scan. Neither her monocle nor her antennae detected any problems. "Clear." She helped Saavik up behind her.
Saavik located the main pipe which carried purified water back up to the facility and withdrew a fine drill and a hypospray. In a minute, a breed of nanites was coursing through the infrastructure of the facility. The success of the operation depended on time; time for the nanites to propagate into the networked security system. T'Shanik had suggested that plumbing was probably the swiftest means of delivering nanites to both the laboratory and prisoner wings of the structure.
They waited, not saying much.
"Alright," Anaela announced after twenty minutes had passed. "Now or never. If we're all clear outside, Commodore? Then I'll do the honours."
"Allow me," Hilwae said, opening the door to the corridor and jumping out with a loud "Haaa!" The Sulamid had learned about the human custom of Halowe'en while at Starfleet Academy and had discovered that his species had a special talent for it.
"Hil, what in the name of the Prophets are you doing?" Sito hissed.
"Figured if they saw someone, better they look scary."
"I'm afraid your acting talent has gone to waste, Mr. Hilwae," Saavik said dryly. "Internal sensors are down. Activating weapons-suppression field."
Anaela made the hand-gesture for "advance."
They were able to get as far as the turbolift without without incident. When the lift reached its destination, Anaela could feel the Jem'Hadar outside the doors. She felt the weight of the twin Ushan'tor in her hands. Against any other species, even Klingons or Cardassians she had always managed not to abide by her people's stricture against killing. The Jem'Hadar, resistant as they were to phaser stun and chemical sedatives, made it more difficult. Fortunately, Doctor Selar had developed a solution; a compound that bonded to ketracel white, an enzyme designed to bond to a Jem'Hadar's cellular structure. The resulting chemical would put the soldier into a deep coma. The Ushan'tor were coated with them. On this mission, the facility would be destroyed in any case, but Anaela could at least prove the concept.
The turbolift doors opened. Anaela jumped into the midst of the Jem'Hadar squad, slicing into the necks of the first two en passent. She got the next two before they realized their weapons weren't functioning. The next four went for their bayonets. Anaela closed her eyes and emptied her mind letting her telepathy, antennae and muscle memory guide the dance of her blades. It was over in four seconds.
"My compliments to the doctor," Saavik whispered.
Anaela jumped. She does that just to remind me she can, she thought with mild amusement. Someone should tell her Vulcans don't sneak up on people.
They set themselves for a staged advance down the corridor. They managed to avoid all but two more squads. Fortunately, one thing the Jem'Hadar did not do was run away screaming- which was, under these circumstances, the smartest thing they could have done. The combination of surprise, speed, and exquisite unarmed combat training began to tell, not to mention having two Andorians, two Vulcans (one of whom had grown up on Hellguard and was consequently somewhat manic about combat training), a large lizard, and what amounted to a panther and an octopus. The Jem'Hadar were formidable, strong and relatively invulnerable- but they were also humanoid, mostly under ten years old and driven far more by aggression than by technique. Anaela would put no one on active duty who couldn't beat the best hologram of a Jem'Hadar First she could create- in triplicate. In her view, the Jem'Hadar, like the Klingons, were highly overrated combatants.
A Vorta flanked by two guards emerged from the biolab just as they reached it. Saavik was on point; before they were aware, the Vorta was dead with a knife in his throat. As the Jem'Hadar turned toward her, she crushed the throat of one and punted the next with all her Vulcan strength so that his head met a ceiling beam. Saavik was seldom such a blunt instrument, but in this case, speed was of the essence.
The squad of guards within the lab stood even less of a chance, and the result was far more graphic; Caitian and Vor'shan claws were not to be trifled with. Hilwae's tentacles encompassed the four Vorta before they could run or trigger their suicide implants. "We will tell you nothing! You are all dead!" the one Saavik recognized as the lead scientist exclaimed.
"No need." Saavik had the Founders' personal access codes to the stand-alone computer which contained the research and direct the production of the contagion. She dumped the data onto a pair of isolinear memory cores, giving one to T'Shanik. Then she placed a computer virus designed to wipe and overwrite the system. T'Shanik was collecting biosamples and documenting the equipment.
Anaela approached the Vorta prisoners. "You will tell us the location of the Admiral."
"He's dead," the lead scientist lied. "As you will be in a few seconds."
"No. He's in his cell, number 131 on level 2, east wing," Anaela retorted. Telepathy made interrogation so much simpler. "Thanks. You can sedate them now."
An alarm sounded.
"There goes the element of surprise. Saavik?"
"One moment more. I will direct the nanites to shut down the lighting system."
"S'whii?"
"Exssplossivess sset."
"Sito, watch out!" Anaela called.
The door opened to admit a squad of Jem'Hadar, carrying the axe-like karta'ken they favoured. Sito disemboweled one, deflected, parried and cut off the hand of another, and settled in to duel with a third with her mek'leth, while the Tellarite marine lost his head and the Saurian took down two Jem'Hadar with the weighted and spiked hunter's whip he carried.
It was over in twenty more seconds, with no further injuries, apart from Sito, whose collarbone had been nearly sliced through before she had managed to plunge her mek'leth into her fourth attacker with the other hand.
"Can you move?" T'Shanik asked, slapping an adhesive bandage on the wound.
"Hell yes!" Sito said. The pain was being masked by shock and adrenaline- and embarrassment.
"Time to get off this level," Anaela said, setting a shaped charge on the floor. She could sense the room below was empty.
It turned out to be a Vorta barracks. The hardest part was getting the Sulamid with his four sedated prisoners down. Sito moaned through her teeth as she was lowered into his waiting tentacles, but managed not to scream. The lights went out, leaving the Jem'Hadar just a little more blind than they.
"Next time, perhaps the nanites could shut down the alarms, too," the Vor'shan commented acerbically.
"Perhaps you would care to design them next time," Saavik retorted. She had elected not to attempt it. Internal sensors could be fooled with false inputs, but shutting down an alarm system was bound to be noticed.
"Can't go on like this," Hilwae commented, gesturing at his prisoners.
Saavik spared Anaela the decision. "Leave those two, they are of little importance to the project. They will die in the explosion."
They met considerable further resistance on the way to the Admiral's cell, but dealt with it successfully, apart from a broken arm for an Andorian Marine and a nasty gash for the Vor'shan. Apparently the Jem'Hadar ability to see in the dark was not quite as good as the Andorian combat monocles'. The two Andorians had the additional luxury of their antennae, and in one case telepathy, and so they tended to take the lead.
Once Saavik and Anaela had dealt with the guards on the Admiral's cell, Saavik melded with the now-comatose mind of the one Anaela had dealt with, hunting for the combination to the cell and ensuring that there were no booby-traps. The lights chose that moment to come back on.
The Efrosian admiral was definitely the worse for wear. He did not even look up as they entered. "You've taken everything already," he whimpered. "Please just ask me for my access codes so I can die!"
"Admiral!" Anaela said. Gripping his arm, she reached down into the centre of her being for the Shil'aiar, the Light of Hope, stoked it with every bit of warmth and good feeling she could muster and pushed it into him.
Admiral Tial inhaled abruptly, his neck straightening, his muscles remembering their strength. He looked at Anaela. "Thank you!" he said, meaning it more than he ever had.
He shivered, as though shaking something off. Then he looked again. "You're Andorian," he said.
"We're here to get you out, sir."
"There's a bioweapon-"
"We know. It's taken care of. Any other prisoners?"
"Not here."
"Jem'Hadar!" Saavik warned. "We should expedite our departure."
The manner in which Saavik and the remaining marines set to work brought to Sito's semi-delirious mind the old Klingon proverb, "A thousand throats may be cut in one night by a running man."
"Activate transport enhancers," Anaela ordered. "Hang on, Admiral, this will get a little rough."
The facility had been too well-shielded and defended for an orbital assault. Unfortunately, the same reasons made extraction exceedingly difficult. Which was why a small nuclear device had been left beneath the dome.
They were all picked up and thrown into the air by the impact.
Then it began again. The Forge had detected the explosion and warped into orbit to disable the remaining defences, which took less than thirty seconds. Ultimately, they had to drill through the dome casing to get a transporter lock. Using the shuttle to confirm the lock, they were able to transport through the thick atmosphere.
Commodore Saavik materialized on the bridge, with only a minor cut to show for her adventures. "Well done, Admiral," she said.
"You did the hard part," he remarked. "I assume you were successful?"
"Yes. Both parts of the mission were completed."
"Good. She's all yours."
"I assume the shuttle crew is safely aboard as well?"
"All presssent and accounted for," Staaras'thi reported.
Saavik withdrew from her belt the detonator for the explosives they had placed in the lab, and triggered it.
"Right where they were ssupposssed to be, Commodore," Staaras'thi confirmed.
"Then by all means, remove that excrescence from the planet."
A single photon torpedo saw to it.
"Rendezvous with the task force," Saavik ordered. "Evasive course, warp eight. Admiral, if you would join me in sickbay?"
Sito, despite her delicate looks and unassuming personality, was a survivor. She could withstand almost anything, and had. Anything but pain meds, even the herbal variety Dr. Selar favored. "Hi Commodore," she said. "You have something green on your cheek. Did you know that? I guess Admiral Nakamura didn't break the ship after all. Hi, Admiral."
"Lieutenant. How's the shoulder?"
"Oh, fine, but Dr. Selar gave me something that tasted like liquefied bugs, and now I'm seeing big purple spots until she can knit the bone back together."
"I see. Good work down there."
"No, it was more like bad work. That fourth guy never should have got me before I stuck him."
"We can save the debriefing until after you have healed," Saavik said firmly. "However, I must second the Admiral's statement. You proved once again that size need not be an advantage in combat."
"Oh crap."
"Lieutenant?"
"I think I dropped my mek'leth. How'm I going to tell Worf?"
"I retrieved it," Saavik reassured her. "I shall return it to your quarters."
"You're the best, Commodore."
Admiral Tial was in a worse state.
"He has undergone a form of electronic mind-sifting, and at high settings," Dr. Selar commented. "Repairing the neurological damage alone will take years. The psychological damage and the disruption of thought processes induced by the procedure will take longer. Major mel'Tora seems to have the ability to lift his morale, but it is my opinion that more drastic telepathic contact will be required, soon, if he is ever to have a chance at returning to his life."
"You are trained in this," Saavik noted. "Will the patient consent?"
"Given the type of experiences involved, it is my opinion that you are the best qualified to help him. The way in which you have dealt with your own experiences may help him to achieve similar resolution. Forgive me- a similar result."
Saavik looked at the broken man before her. "I will try," she said.
"Is he able to answer questions now?" Nakamura asked. "I'm sorry, doctor, but we must know what he told them."
"Any sort of adversarial questioning now could have catastrophic results," Selar emphasized. "I will not authorize it. Let him volunteer the information himself. He will, before long. Meanwhile, Commodore, Lt. Sito was correct. You do indeed have 'something green' on your cheek."
A wave of a dermal regenerator later, the flag officers walked to Tial's bedside.
"S-Saavik," he said weakly. "You- you were there. Thank you."
"I regret that we did not find you sooner, Tial."
"Katsu."
"Tial."
"How bad is the plague?" he demanded hoarsely.
"There is none," Saavik said, "nor shall there be."
"Saavik caught on to their plan, Ti," Nakamura said. "They were going to infect POW's with the disease. But we found you, we got their specs on the contagion, and we blew that damn place to its constituent atoms. It's not going to happen. And you're the best man to make sure it never happens."
Tial slowly allowed himself to exhale. "No plague?"
"None," Saavik confirmed. "We verified the production inventory. None of the contagion had been shipped, save for what exists in the Jem'Hadar we have in custody."
"Thank God. Those bastards! All the interrogations, all that insipid little Vorta's plans, all their work and effort, gone!" He gestured with his hands, chuckling slightly maniacally.
"Rest now," Saavik said. "And when you are ready to talk, I will be here."
"Switched to counselor, have you Saavik? You hardly open your own mouth, let alone listen to other people prattle on. Always liked that about you."
"I am no counselor, Tial it is true. Merely a fellow-traveller through hell." Something about the look in her eyes made Tial believe it.