Episode 12: To the Very Last Breath
Teaser
First Officer's Personal Log - Stardate 65852.4: I hope that the capture of Sarah King will lead to a new turn in our fortunes. But I don't trust her. Not one iota. I have no idea what she is here for, but I just hope I'm wrong. But I am never wrong. Not about the people I ruled four centuries ago. Not now.
The day had started off like any other day. Grouch had brushed his long whiskers around his snout to perfection. Even that large lumbering reptile R'Kar would have had to be jealous if he had seen the Tellarite now. He nodded to a female crewman which he knew had sexual desires towards him. He could never have slept with a pathetic lifeform of another race, but he accepted her interest in his superiority.
"Where are you heading?" a voice called out. He turned to see Ensign Lendon following her. Well, not following. Just going the same way he was.
"Down to the brig to see to the good doctor," he said. Jonathon gave him a skeptical look. "What? Do you think you can do my job better than me, human?"
Lendon shrugged, "She's part of that Section 31 stuff now."
"Section 31?" Grouch frowned, "What the mumbo-jumbo are you talking about?"
"They're a spy organization within Starfleet Intelligence-" Lendon looked crestfallen. "You don't believe me, do you?"
Grouch shook his head in annoyance. "Your imagination staggers me with its brilliance," he mocked as he shook his head, "I got no time for this. Be off, puny human."
Lendon turned and headed off, leaving Grouch to himself. He snorted and turning headed towards the brig. Too many puny humans on this ship. Now, if he had just a dozen more Tellarites, he could have been Captain by now. He wouldn't have been so easy to decieve as all those Human captains that had served on here.
"I simply can't believe it," the President said, looking at the PADD that had been handed her by Admiral Beeotch, "The Tholians and the Breen both have sent over a thousand ships a piece to our cause."
"I can try to get the Cardassians and the Romulans and the Klingons on our side to if you'd like," he said, walking to her stash of fine liquor and pouring himself a glass.
"Could you?" she asked with wide eyes in astonishment at all he could do. "They are greatly reduced by the late wars. Especially Cardassia, which by the Treaty of Bajor can only keep a skeletal fleet."
"Oh," Beeotch kept his smile to himself as he lifted the glass, "I think you'll find they've been very busy there on good old Cardassia."
Act 1
"This is really the worst planet ever to construct a base," Sam whined as they stood above a cliff. Below them were thousands of miles of tropical rain-forest. Heavy mists of rain spread across the forest in a vail.
"The Corps of Engineers didn't say we had a choice in the matter," Engineering Chief Stuleene said, the yellow skinned Duberian shifted the pack on his back, "Shall we head down to the construction site?"
Mollen rolled his eyes and lifted his own pack on the back and taking the lead of the project head to a small lift that had been built into the side of the cliff.
Tryke looked at the current efforts of the war on his PADD as he walked down the corridor to the mess hall. With the alliance now taking shape, his crew and the crew of the Warlord were able to relax, flying above the planet Hi'janee. Sixty percent jungle, ten percent grasslands, five percent polar ice caps and twenty-five percent water. They were building a massive base from which to coordinate the allied war-effort.
"Captain," Grouch called out, and he looked up to see the Tellarite walking up to him.
"Yes?" he asked.
"I have spent several hours with Doctor King and she is completely broken of any influence of this so-called 'Section 31'," he announced.
Tryke frowned. It was too quick a change in his mind. "Are you sure?" he asked. "They're a slippery lot."
"Of course I'm sure," he growled, bearing his tusks at the Captain, "Was it not my job to find out about her?"
"Yes."
"And am I not qualified to know these things for certain?"
"I suppose."
"Than trust me now," he growled, "She's free and normal now."
Tryke looked at the wall, barely noticing as Grouch elbowed his way past him to the mess hall. He wanted to believe it. But, he wasn't sure. There was only one way to know for sure.
The Cardassian growled as he shook his thick main of black hair, the water follicles flying across the wall with a satisfying splash all over the wall. He enjoyed extremely hot showers, hot enough that even a tad bit more pressure would result in heat blisters on his comely gray skin. That was something no off-worlder could ever understand.
There was a pounding at his door. He shouted very loudly, "Go away! I'm busy!"
But instead of going away, the door began to open. He sighed and said, "What is it Martila?"
"There is a man waiting for you in the drawring room."
He rubbed his forehead in despair. Where did that other 'r' come from for that word? He hated that, almost as bad as a stubbed toe.
"Tell him to go away," he said, letting the water run over his body, "I'm busy."
"He says he's an associate of a mutual friend from Starfleet," Martila said.
He paused as he was lifting up his hand to grab some soap. Oh. This would be interesting.
"I'll be out in a moment," he said, and she backed out and closed the door behind her.
Soon he was fully dressed and walking out of the hallway that connected the drawing room from the shower. A thin wiry Vulcan was sitting with legs crossed on the one couch not adorned with doilies.
"Hello," the Cardassian said, walking out into the room, "Sorry for the delay."
"No apologies are necessary," the Vulcan said, "Perhaps I should have made an appointment."
"Not possible with your current assignment I'm sure," he said, "So, what can I do for your Admiral?"
"He requires a sizable amount of your military forces to help fight against the Borg and Dominion," the Vulcan replied.
The Cardassian moved to a bookcase and lifted a single book off the shelf. This was very interesting he guessed.
"And what exactly would you consider sizable?" he asked, looking at the cover, "The Treaty of Bajor doesn't exactly allow a ton of 'Cardie' ships to be floating around as it were."
"Come now, Gul Verek," the Vulcan said, "We know for a fact that you have a fleet being built in the Nekbre Nebula. Give us that fleet, and we'll consider it paid."
"I have no idea what you are talking about," Verek said, replacing the book and wiping dust off the books, "Our entire fleet of twenty ships is around Cardassia."
"Don't lie to me," the Vulcan commented, "It's unbecoming. Deliver the ships by the end of the Cardassian week or we shall be forced to come collect them."
"Don't get your hopes us," Verek retorted as the Vulcan looked detachedly at him, "The Obsidian Order will stop you."
"Oh really?" the Vulcan asked, almost amused, "And who do you think gave us the location for your hidden fleet? They belong to us now."
Act 2
Joshua's head hung down, his mind blank of all images and thoughts. He was zoned out from the life he had at the moment, blocking out those around him on the bridge. The day had been a disaster for the Federation. How could this have happened? It didn't seem plausible.
Perhaps it had something to do with those so called Gods. They were throwing him for loop after loop, giving him no rest, no break. The monsters, yes, they were monsters, had destroyed the Federation. All his friends were dead, his family was no more. All he had were those around him. Had not this been an exercise to make things right? Things had become worse in many respects, not better.
And that did not comfort him in the slightest.
"What's our ETA to Andoria?" he asked the helm. 6 hours, 13 minutes. That's what it had been last time. And everything had been going just like before.
"7 hours, 13 minutes sir," the human replied.
His eyes looked up, staring at the boy. What did he mean? Shouldn't they be closer?
"Are you sure?" he asked, "Check that again."
The helmsman bent over, looking at the readings. A few seconds passed before he went, "Oh yes, sorry sir. There must have been a malfunction or something. You are correct. It's 6 hours, 13 minutes."
He sighed and rose to his feet. "I'm going to my quarters. Number One, you have the bridge."
He walked up the slight rise in the floor to the turbo lift. The door slid open to allow him in, and he entered, the door sliding shut behind him. He closed his eyes and side, turning to face the door.
"Deck 15," he ordered and the turbo lift began it's descent to Deck 15.
"There have been two strikes already," he said to himself, "The Federation has all but been destroyed, and Earth captured. But, what is the third one? It was suppose to be near Earth, wasn't it?"
He opened his eyes as the turbo lift slowed and came to a stop. The door slid open and he walked out of the door into the corridor, which was strangely deserted. He looked around, before shrugging his shoulders. Most people were probably in their quarters, too shocked to do anything. He knew he was.
Wait. He never told the Helmsman that he believed it to be 6 hours plus left on the trip. How could he have known that?
He had barely reached his quarters when the klaxons sounded forth again, following a violent shiver throughout the ship rocked as if it had been hit. He tapped his comlink and shouted, "Report!"
"We have accidentally collided with something," the Vulcan reported, "We took no damage."
"What was it?" he demanded, grabbing the wall to steady himself.
"Unknown sir," the Vulcan replied, "it was too small to be detected by our sensors."
"Too small to be sensed by the sensors and still have that much of a wallop?" Joshua asked not believing.
"Yes sir."
"Alright," he muttered, "Keep me informed. Stubbs out."
He frowned and moved forward. Very peculiar. The ship jolted again, not something he had been expecting. This hadn't happened last time. And the ship shuddered even harder, throwing him to the ground.
Meanwhile, hidden from him were two men in black leather, their fingers flying furiously over the console. The door opened and in stepped a busty Trill female, with long white hair.
"What is going on?" she demanded.
"The system is acting up again," the older man said, sweat accumulating on his brow as he fought to keep up with the malfunctions that were spiraling throughout the system. "It simply won't keep still!"
"When all else fails," the younger Hispanic man said, stepping up and kicking it hard, "Kick it."
The system blacked-out everything shutting off. The woman looked horrified at the situation. But, just as suddenly as everything shutoff, it came back online. The Hispanic man smiled as he returned to his seat.
"My Papa always told me in Varas City, Mexico, when all else fails, use the Mexican Fix," he said, patting the console lovingly.
"If I ever see him," she breathed, "I'll kill him. Get a technical team up here. We can't afford any system malfunctions."
"Another fine victory in the arena of politics," the President said, lifting her glass to Admiral Nechavey, "We've got hundreds of new ships from most of the major powers joining us."
"I'm curious at how you are getting all these ships," the stern woman said, a cane in her hands. She'd not gotten better, but worse since her treatment at the hands of those who called themselves patriots to the cause of liberty had subjected her too.
"Admiral Beeotch has a lot of connections," the President replied, Tellarian Coosh music playing with heavy and disconcerted bangs and boops in the background. Some hulligans had decided to set up shop next door it seemed.
"Too many," the Admiral replied smugly.
"You can't be serious Preator!" the senator exclaimed, standing up in the Senate chamber of the new Senate Halls on the planet of Brako IX.
Stulon stuck a finger in his ear and started to wiggle it, working out an itch in it. The senators were not happy in any respect, but he found this much more enjoyable than their prattling. How he longed for the days when he had been able to kill indiscriminately his enemies. Somehow they'd always be included in enemies of the State.
"Which part don't you find serious?" he asked, extremely bored.
"We could and should be going back to war against the remnants of the Klingon Empire," the Senator replied, most of the other senators muttering agreement. "You said yourself that our Empire has rebuilt it's military nicely."
Stulon yawned. "Oh please," he said, "If we go back to war, the Federation will swoop in. Or the Borg. Or the Dominion."
The Senator snorted in disgust. "The Federation is collapsing under the assaults from their enemies," he argued, "I hear they've even been forced to go hat in hand to the other powers to get more ships. They are desperate to survive, which is only to be expected."
"Which brings up an interesting point," a female Senator interjected, cutting him off, "Praetor, if the Federation comes asking us for aid, will we go to it? Will we engage in the war they are currently fighting."
Stulon looked across the room to each senator. They seemed to lean forward, as if anticipation was lifting them from their seats. It was a question they would and had every expectation of having answered. And, well, they'd be right.
"No," he said very firmly. "We are the Romulan Star Empire. We are not mercenaries in this war against the Borg and Dominion. Yes, the Federation are necessary to the survival of our Quadrant, but I have too much pride in our Empire to allow us to be dragged into a war which shall certainly decimate us."
"But if the Federation and their allies fall," the senator pressed, voicing the fears of every person in the room, "The Borg might turn their gaze towards us. What then?"
Stulon waved his hand dismissively. "I have my own ways of dealing with these problems," he said, standing from his seat at the head of the Senate Chambers. "Now, if you'll excuse my, I have things that need attended to. Good evening."
He turned and left the halls, heading through the back doors to the corridor behind the main chamber. Two guards followed him, veterans of his many campaigns and wars and utterly devoted to him.
"Very interesting speech," a voice said, and he turned to see a Human exit the shadows behind a pillar. His guards stepped out infront of him, weapons at the ready. "But I know you fancy yourself the champion of right and wrong."
"Fancy is too large a word," Stulon replied, "Even for me. You are?"
"Who I am is not important," he responded, "What matters is that you should seriously reconsider your position on helping the Federation and it's allies. Should they fall, you'll be all by your lonesome. You wouldn't want that, would you?"
"What I want and what you want does not necessarily align," the Praetor reminded him.
The human shrugged. "Just remember how easily governments can change," he said, "More than one leader has been forced to change their minds because they weren't around to be stubborn. All they need is a few ships and you can be allowed a new place in the scheme of things when this war is past."
"I don't think so," Stulon said, "I have the position that I find tedious now. And you know what, I don't like you."
The human laughed. "Just think-no!" The two guards pressed the triggers to their rifles and beams lanced out, slicing through both legs. He collapsed to the ground and in agony reached for his pocket. Stulon walked up and kicked him hard in the face, breaking his nose. The man pulled out a device but Stulon kicked it away, and pinned his wrist against the pillar with his boot.
"Who are you?" he demanded, "What organization are you with? You don't seem to be Starfleet, this back alley diplomacy doesn't suit them. Who are you?"
"We're the future!" the man spat and grabbed his leg with his free gloved hand.
Heat blazed through it, the glove superheating on his leg. Stulon roared in pain and the man threw him off with a twist of his hand. The Romulan flew back into the guards, making them all stumble backwards. The man grunted and reached out to grab the small device that had fallen a few feet from him.
"No you don't!" Stulon said, "Bondaria Move!"
The Bondaria move was a Romulan wrestling move, involving multiple combatants to get them back in the fight. His guards responded by pushing him forward which such strength and speed that he flew into the man, his body weight dropping hard on him and making the man 'oof' as all the air was knocked out of him.
Stulon spun around on the back of the man, pinning him to the ground. They wrestled about, the man trying to reach around to grab him. But it was clear who was the better wrestler and Stulon pinned his arms behind his back, raised him up and slammed his head hard into the ground. The man went unconscious.
He grunted and pushed himself up from the ground, his guards moving forward. "Take him to the cells," he said, wincing as his leg flared with pain, "I need to see a healer."
Act 3
Mollen looked smugly at the Tholian that was messing with his sensor array. Three days he had been working on it, trying to compensate for the natural dampening affect this planet's atmosphere had on electronics. Nothing seemed to be working.
And then this Tholian comes along, pushes him to the side and says curtly, "You take too long."
"That was my array," he grumped.
The Vulcan raised an eyebrow, glancing up as he worked on getting a few isolinear rods in a control panel. The panel, once it was finished, was going to be able to connect to the five communications centers on the planet, which would be able to break the dampening effect and get communications out to the fleets. But, first it had to be finished.
"Just who does he think he is?" Sam grumbled, "It's mine."
"I do believe he believes he can get the job done at a more efficient pace than you," the Vulcan responded, the rod clamping into place.
"Aren't you just a barrel full of sunshine," Sam grumbled, bending over to straighten a few cords that were dangerously close to a live outlet.
"I am Vulcan," he responded, "I do not carry ultraviolet radiation inside my body."
Sam rolled his eyes. "It was a joke," he replied, "How did you ever get to be head of the engineering department on the Khan anyways?"
The Vulcan shrugged. "I simply applied myself to being the most efficient."
"Isn't the being competitive though?" the Human asked, reaching over to pick up the console to place it on the control panel, "And isn't tat un-Vulcany?"
"What is the point to life if one does not strive for perfection?" he quipped.
Mollen shrugged his shoulder as he placed the console down. The two straightened it so the edges were flush with the console edges, and then a self-sealing paste glued the two together.
Tryke stood behind a tree in the arboretum on Invincible. Nearly a week had past before he had let Sarah out of her cell. There were always security following her, watching her every movement. She had decided to go first thing to the arboretum. And he had followed.
"Morning, captain," a voice said, and he turned to see a very large Ashley Lendon leaning against the bench.
"You alright?" he asked.
"Just a little worn out," she assured him, "Not sure I want to go through this whole pregnancy thing again."
He smiled. "So just how far along are you?" he asked, "I was only gone for about eight months."
"Oh, just three months," she replied, "So, what brings you around here? You've never been much a visitor to the arboretum."
"Just wanting to keep an eye on Doctor King," he answered, glancing back her direction.
"You still love her, sir?" Ashley asked. He didn't answer her. "You've two had a rough relationship. I think you should just get married or something. No better way of keeping an eye on someone."
Adam snorted. "I'm sure you'd know all about that," he remarked.
Ashley didn't respond immediately but took a deep breath. Gave him time to think. Did he really love her? Or was it simply a shadow of a feeling from times long past?
"Well," Ashley said, pushing herself up, "time to get home. Johnny and me are going to the holodeck to spend a nice dinner. Although I don't agree that holodecks have real food."
The door to the ready room opened and Harrison stepped into the room. Tryke had a stack of PADDs that he was pouring over. He had a stylus to one.
"You summoned me, sir?" he asked.
"I'll be gone for a few days," Tryke said, handing a PADD to Harrison, "I've been summoned to a command meeting on Tellar. I trust you'll take care of the ship for me."
Harrison grabbed the PADD and looked at it. There was a list of things that were entitled 'Need to be Done'. There was some very interesting things on there. One of the things on there made him narrow his eyes.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked.
"Is there a problem, John?" he asked, pushing himself up and beginning to move around the desk.
"Frankly sir, they can't be trusted," Harrison stated.
"Nor are you," Tryke said, "But I need this info. Ca-pish?"
Harrison nodded and Tryke headed towards the door.
Act 4
"This had better be safer than the last major meeting we had," Tryke said, pulling back his chair and sitting himself next to a Cardassian Gul.
"It better be worth the effort we are making on behalf of this war," the Cardassian grumped, his stocky form befitting the pomp and arrogance many Cardassians still felt, despite their defeat during the Dominion War and the harsh peace afterwards. "We got problems of our own."
"Our people are on the brink of collapse," Tryke retorted.
"Our people are living on scraps," the Cardassian shot back.
"Our people are the scraps of the Borg!" Tryke shook his head.
"So we come out on top," the Cardassian exclaimed triumphantly. The two men looked at each other a few seconds and then burst out laughing, causing many in the room to look over at them. "You are alright human," the Cardassian wiped at the edges of his mouth, "I am Gul Ikcor of the Cardassian frigate Valmar."
"Captain Adam Tryke," he held his hand out which the Cardassian took, "USS Invincible."
"Ah yes," the Cardassian smiled toothily, "The redoubtable Adam Tryke. You are quiet the talk among the resurgent Obsidian Order. I hear there is a hefty bounty on your head."
Tryke smirked, "They're welcome to try and take it."
"If you will all take a seat," Admiral Owen's voice commanded through the stone chamber, "We shall begin."
As people took their seats, Tryke noticed that the Captain of the Warlord was also there. He was sitting behind the two of them, his helmeted head looking in the direction of the Admiral. His arms were folded and he was leaning back.
"Thank you all for attending," he said, "We currently have the largest gathering of forces in our time. Larger than we ever have had, even during the Dominion War. Let me spell the situation for you. The Federation of Planets is near the brink of collapse. If we go, there will be nothing to stop this abominable alliance between the Borg and the Dominion from turning it's sights towards any of the other powers here. We must stop them now."
He let the words sink in as he prepared to deliver the next part of his speech. Who knew how long the old man had spent preparing it, or if this was all improvisation. The former would be more likely, but the latter was more in style with Admiral Owen.
"We have a plan to hit back and hard at the enemy," he said, pushing a button and a trinary system appeared. "According to our sources, the Dominion leadership will be meeting with the Borg Queen here at Castrov IX. This is a D Planetary system, so there would be no reason for us to know it was going to take place here. Except of course our liberated Borg who are working nonstop at trying to counter the telepathic shutdown the Borg implement before attacking our fleets."
"Excuse me sir," a Vulcan captain asked, "But what will be the forces present there?"
"Ten Jem'Hadar Heavy Cruisers and ten Borg Cubes," Owen said, making everyone whisper and mutter to themselves.
"That's suicide," Ikcor grunted, "I like it."
"So we can do this the easy way," the Tal Shiar agent said calmly and cooly, "Or the hard way. Your choice of course, but you will find that your Starfleet mental training will not have prepared you for what we can and are capable of doing."
The black leathered man sat, whistling a tune. Stulon had requested to watch the interrogation of the human, which the Tal Shiar had been more than happy to allow their work to be watched. The Tal Shiar was nowhere near what it once had been, but it was enough.
"What are you doing here on Brako IX?" the agent asked, her calmness would have made even the most hardened Romulan male pause in hesitation.
"Looking for bees," the human said, "Bees are good at making honey. And I heard Brako has good bees."
"Too bad our bees have been extinct for six million years," the Romulan female said.
"Only that long?" he asked, frowning, "The Travel agent was lying then. Can't get good travel agent these days."
The woman gave a false chuckle. "You think you are pretty funny don't you?" she asked, "Well, I would find it even more hilarious if you told me what you were doing on Brako IX."
"Does it really matter?" the agent asked.
"Indeed it does," the agent said.
The agent looked her straight in the eyes. "You are nothing but a toy soldier compared to what I am. So go ahead. Torture me. You'll not get anything out of me."
"If you insist," she said, grabbing two small electric nodes. The other Tal Shiar agent took a knife and cut open the front of his shirt, pulling it back to reveal a muscular set of abs. She placed the devices on his nipples and pulling out a remote, turned them on. The man sat there, twitching slightly but smiling as if he was enjoying it more than hurting.
"But that is only part of our plan," he said. Tryke sat up and leaned closer. "That is a feint while the main of our forces go for a prize in many ways much more satisfying."
A second projection appeared, a binary systems with seven planets. Tryke had been there before. The system was Delta Gome, the second biggest system controlled by the Orion Syndicate.
"The Orion Syndicate has lent the third and fourth planet to the Dominion. They are using it to produce Jem'Hadar warriors and ketracel white. Simply, ladies and gentlemen, we will not allow them to continue. As of this moment, I am authorizing the use of thalaron radiation on the system. We need to end this war, and if the supplies for ketracel white and the Jem'Hadar are unable to be obtained, the Dominion at least will be willing to back off."
The mention of thalaron radiation caused a mightier stir among those gathered. It had been outlawed, for very good reasons. It was hard to control, even at the best of times.
"May I ask what the casualties will be?" a Trill captain asked.
"Forty five billion," Owen said, holding up his hands to quiet the wave of outrage that erupted from what he said, "We also want to hit the Orion Syndicate hard. Casualties of innocents will be tragic high, but if we don't do this, we will lose them to the Borg and Dominion. And it won't matter then one way or the other."
"At long last your Starfleet will do what needs to be done," Ikcor said, "About time."
"I agree," he said, shaking his head, "But too many innocents even in self-defense."
"You seem troubled," Sarah said as he returned to the quarters he had been assigned.
Tryke looked over at her, and wondered what her game was. The only way to be sure of her not being a raging troublemaker was to keep her close. And if push came to shove, he'd have the monopoly on any fight, with his Borg enhanced strength.
"Admiral Owen is authorizing a system-wide thalaron strike," he said, sitting down on one of the two bunks, and pulling off his boots.
Sarah King nodded. "Then stage two is underway," she said, to herself but loud enough that he could hear.
"What's stage two?" he asked, looking up as he tossed the boots aside.
"A Section 31 plan," she said, "I'm not sure what the endgame was, but I am sure whatever it is, it's big."
"That's part of what bothers me," he said, "I'm not sure what is all part of Section 31 or not. For all I know, they could be orchestrating this entire war for their own amusement."
"War is amusing?" Sarah asked, moving to sit next to him.
"Of course not," he replied with a scowl, "But I know many find it to their happiness to cause suffering on a wider scale. Section 31 is a tough one to figure out."
"Section 31 has always done what they believed was best for the good of the Federation," she said, touching his hand and holding it, rubbing it with her thumb.
"I know that's what they think and believe," he said, shaking his head, "It's just as-"
"As what?" she asked, continuing to caress his hand.
He blinked, finding it hard to concentrate. A fog seemed to cover his mind and he shook his head. He felt himself fall onto his bed backwards. He seemed to lay there for hours, staring into a dark mist. Even the Borg implants, which always whispered in his mind, seemed to vanish in a blaze of white noise.
Next thing he knew, his head was clear and focused. Like crystal in water. Sarah was next to him, patting his face gently.
"Hello you," he said with a smile, "How about we get married?"
Act 5
"Seran, Seran," she muttered his name, over and over again. She sat in an elaborate cage. No bars on the windows, but no escape either. He'd come for her, just as he always did. None of his other women in his personal herem brought him as much a thrill as did her.
The doors cracked open and the all dark skinned man stepped through the door. Hipjarra stood like a framed piece of malice and greed, looking only for the greatest profit. But that was not even the surface. He'd had her telepathic abilities turned off with a small implant he'd inserted into her skin below her ear.
"Miss Grax," the Ligonian said, trying his best to look nothing more than the most congenial of visitors, "How are we doing this lovely day?"
She didn't look up at him, but stared at the ground. Perhaps…perhaps if she didn't look at him, he'd go away. Please go away.
"Hmm," he said, walking across the room and grabbing her gently by the hand, "I see you still are resentful of your accommodations. I realize this is no pleasure ship, but this planet is nothing but healthy for women such as yourself."
She looked slowly up at him, a horrified yet dejected look in her eyes. The man sighed.
"You will learn to appreciate your surroundings," he said, pulling her up to her feet, "And also all those who now claim you as their object to do whatever they wish. And I am that person. As such, you will learn to appreciate me and no longer mope around because of a misplaced sense of lost freedom. Come now, your beauty awaits the carver."
She looked at him questioningly. He laughed in his rich rolling manner.
"I have a sculpture Leasha Mellena making a statue of you," he said, "Naked of course. She is one of those who think much as I do; that clothes impairs the natural beauty of the person."
Jonathon crouched on the overhang on the mansion. A phaser sniper rifle was in his hands and he could feel the two figures on either side of him. One was a Human female that went simply by the name Jill. The other was a Vulcan male, one that he absolutely despised.
"Seran," Jill said speaking in a small earpiece that only the three of them could hear, "Remember the plan?"
"Of course," the Vulcan replied, "I have every confidence in the success of our mission."
"Watch my back kid," the woman said, and she crept to the side of the roof and lowered herself down to a jutted windowsill below.
"I trust you shall do what you need to do," Seran said, talking so that only Jonathon could hear.
"Trust me," he said, "I know what I should keep an eye on."
The Vulcan grunted as he also moved along the roof and grabbing a vent cover opened it and lowered himself inside. Lendon waited until he was gone, and then turned on the visual scanner that covered his eyes and began to scan throughout the building. The female was moving into a hallway where two guards were waiting at the other end. They didn't notice her and a quick check showed they were alone. He squeezed his finger on the trigger twice, and a small teleporter in the muzzle transported the bullet to right above their heads. Both men collapsed.
The door opened and Jemma was pushed inside, only a thin veil covering her flesh. The sculpture was there, looking annoyed at that. It was obvious she was in the business of getting what she ordered. And a woman with her clothes on was not that.
"Take off your clothes," she ordered.
Jemma hesitated. The sculpture looked towards one of the Nausican guards and snapped her finger. The guard went up and with a broad hand backhanded her.
"I said, 'Take off your clothes'," she repeated.
Jemma slowly began to reach up to pull it down when the door burst open and a series of flashes illuminated the room. Jemma collapsed as did the others, and with the flashes gone, two figures hurried into the room. The man swept forward, grabbing her and lifting her in his arms.
"Time to be going," he said, "Wouldn't you agree?"
"Very much so," she said, "Let's leave the kid."
"Agreed. Shadowcloak," Seran said, touching his earpiece, "Three to beam up."
"Wait…wait!" Lendon shouted, watching as the teleporter grabbed them and beamed them out. "What are you doing Seran? Take me with you!"
"I know you and my wife are friends," the Vulcan said on the link, "But there are times when we need a distraction to escape. Don't worry. Hipjarra will only kill you. Oh wait…that's only if he's in a good mood. Don't worry, I'll make sure Jemma gets back to Invincible. Live long."
"F-k you!" Lendon shouted, "I'll kill you for this!"
Alarms started to sound in the mansion as they finally realized something was up. Jonathon looked around as no one had spotted him yet. He crawled to a storm drain and followed it to the edge of the roof. He looked down, and saw there wasn't too far a fall.
But it was still quite a way down. He heard shouting get closer and looking back, people were coming on the roof, sweeping it with search lights. There was nothing for it. He jumped.
Act 6
The doors to the runabout Hiku opened and Adam Tryke walked off, hand in hand with Sarah. He waved to the crew manning the shuttle control room. They waved back to him as he exited the shuttlebay and entered the main corridor outside. It was good to be back on Invincible.
"All senior staff report to the briefing room," Tryke announced as he stepped on the bridge.
"Very goo-" Harrison stopped as he saw Doctor King stepping onto the bridge. "What is she doing here?"
"Who?" Tryke asked, and then noticed Harrison's dark eyes on King. "Oh, say hello to the new Mrs. Tryke."
"The new Mrs. Tryke?" Harrison repeated the name as if it was a completely obscene. "Are you sure that she should be back-"
"I don't care what you think," Tryke snapped, causing the entire bridge crew to glance over, "She is coming to the meeting. Is there going to be a problem, Commander?"
Harrison stared at her for a few seconds before shaking his head very slowly. "No sir," he said, "There won't be any problem."
Tryke looked around at the senior staff as they made their way into the briefing room. He noted the absence of Lendon, but he assumed he was still on his mission. There were many things he had wanted done while he was gone. Including the rescue of Jemma Grax. He'd need her more than ever. He waited until they had all taken their spots around the conference table.
"Starfleet has decided to go on the offensive," he said, watching the reactions of relief on the faces of everyone.
"Finally!" R'Kar growled, thumping his chest, "Thisss one isss ready to take the battle to the invader."
"The alliance is attacking two points," he said, "One is a meeting taking place between the Dominion and Borg leadership at Castrov IX. The other location is against the system Delta Gome."
"What do you mean by 'the system'?" Doctor McCoy asked.
Tryke took a very deep breath. "Starfleet command has ordered a thalaron strike against the entire system," he said, "And we've been assigned to the force that will make that strike."
An explosion of outrage and bewilderment came from the staff. What was this? How could this be? What right did they have to make this strike? He held up his hand.
"I am sorry but I have to agree with them on this," he said, "As a Borg, I destroyed worlds and murdered billions of people. It's time the Borg felt the sting of their own medicine. We leave in twenty hours."
Stubbs sat in the chair in the lounge area on the ship, wondering about what was going on. Oh, there was a half-finished chess game going on and there was someone who seemed a bit suicidal. Something was not right. Even in an alternate universe, he should have been able to know exactly what was going on. Well…not true, but this one was from a place he had been sent by those Gamester Gods as he liked to term them.
Why had the time been different than what he had remembered for the traveling between the fallen Earth and Andoria? Why was the Enterprise shaking so much? Even now it was trembling.
"What is going on?" he asked aloud.
"What isn't going on is the question you should ask."
He shot up in bed, looking around. There she was again. That woman that was there, but not there at the same time.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"A dangerous question," she replied, "But is the answer for the question more dangerous than the question itself?"
Stubbs grunted. He hated those type of questions. They were circular in the questioning and could be interpreted like the Bible, any way you wanted to.
"Why can't I see you?" he asked, "I can, but I can't."
"Perception filters," she said, "Only you can see me, but if I did it any more, then they'd see me and hear me. Any less and you wouldn't hear or see me."
"What?" he asked.
"They think you are talking to yourself," she said, "Going through a form of schizophrenia."
"And who is they?" he asked.
"Don't say the name or it will give you away that you know," she warned, "But two agents of Section 31 watching you this very minute in a holographic control room here on this holodeck."
He frowned, "Never heard of it."
She snorted. "Of course not," she replied, "You aren't supposed to. They are the CIA, KGB, the Korellian Patrollers of the Federation. In many ways, they are the elite Black Ops of our time. Even the Obsidian Order is in their pocket."
"Let's say for a moment I believe you," he said warily, "Which I don't, because it's too wild an idea, what do they want with me?"
"Out of the way," she said, "But they aren't ready to kill you. They want to know what you know before they do anything."
"And why did they grab a different reality to show them?" he asked, shaking his head, "Doesn't make sense."
"One secret at a time," she smiled, "Look, let me just say, you are needed back on your ship. A good friend of yours is in danger. H-l, they all are in danger."
"But I'm in a different reality," he said.
"Really?" she asked, "You'd better stand up."
"Why?" he asked, but suddenly everything began to wrinkle as they changed. He wasn't big into holodecks, but he knew enough to stand just in time. The whole room, which had been a lounge, changed to a room with squares overlapping each other. He looked around and saw two men sitting in the holodeck control booth, working furiously.
"Run." She ordered, and he ran for the doors.
Act 7
Rain fell in sheets through Galtopa City, seven miles south of the mansion of Hipjarra on the moon Gab-dora. A lone figure ran through the rain, running from shadow to shadow. He stopped at a corner of a rundown building, glancing around. A local law enforcement vehicle cruised by, smoke puttering from an exhaust pipe as the carbon fueled hovercraft glided across the street, spotlights sweeping the street.
He wasn't sure what to do or whom to trust. He carried the sniper rifle he had used during the assault on the mansion on his back. But with his commando black outfit, there was no way Jonathon was getting off the planet unnoticed. He opened the cover of his holographic map and the holographic screen was blank, except for three words, "Please Input Inquiry".
"I'm hiding from an Orion Syndicate madman and I don't know if Section 31 is after me or not," he muttered, not liking the sound of it even as he spoke it, "How do I get past everyone undetected? Ummm…show me laundry mats in the area."
"Locating…locating…results found," the holographic map said and a map appeared of the city, ten small triangles hovering above the areas where a laundry mat could be found. One was roughly six blocks away. There was none closer. He grunted and with a quick glance around, dashed across the street, heading in the direction.
"Wait just one moment," Sam said, looking at the wall as he spoke, "You are leaving me here? Won't Invincible need its chief engineer?"
"Lieutenant Brackles will do just fine in your absence," Adam assured him over the comm. channel. "Besides, they need the best engineer in Starfleet working on that base."
There was a major thump and he closed his eyes as the sounds of several people rushing to look into the noise. Too many engineers were being rushed into the field as a result of the immense loss of life being dealt by the enemy. Many of these 'engineers' were only such in the loosest sense of the term. Many couldn't tell the difference between a self and manual sealing stembolt.
"Copy that sir," he said.
"Commander!" a voice called out and he turned to see Commander Geordi LaForge walking up to him, "We need you down in the transporter room. Figure out how to keep the damp out of the circuits,"
He rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. This was going to be one of those days. He wish Jamie was here, she always could put his mind at ease.
"Alright," he said, "I'm coming."
The human was slumped in the chair, blood caked on his chin, lips and down both nostrils. He face was a lump of black, red and blue as he had taken a heavy pummeling from the Tal Shiar agents that seemed to be going at him round robin. But, he was a most interesting of challenges.
"Do you really expect me to believe he has told you absolutely nothing?" Regional Manager Galbat asked, looking at the beaten yet unbroken enemy agent.
"Not a peep," the woman replied, "I've been overseeing this interrogation since the beginning."
"Then obviously your techniques are flawed," he growled, "Surely he can't be able to hold us out. Have you used a mind sifter?"
"Not yet," she admitted, "I wanted to make sure we exhausted every other possible means before we turned him into a vegetable."
He smirked. "Another failing of you younger Tal Shiar agents," he growled, "You can't even do that properly. A properly done mind sifting still leaves the subject more or less intact. Only sloppy work can explain why he'd be brain-dead afterwards. Go fetch the device. I'll perform it myself."
"We have an escaped prisoner," the Hispanic agent said. The woman on the screen looked impassively at him.
"What happened?" she asked, waiting for his response.
"I…." he glanced at his partner. The man glanced and shook his head. He was just as lost in what happened as he was. "I'm not sure, ma'am."
"I see," she said, her less than pleasant voice growing very sweet, something that terrified him even more than a Klingon battle fleet. "Do you know where this particular prisoner was going?"
"Beside out?" he asked, shrugging, "No."
"Then you are of no further use to me," she said and suddenly both men began jerking and fell out of their chairs, clutching at their chests with clawed hands as their hearts began beating too fast to safety. Then, with a mighty tearing sound, both hearts ruptured, and blood began to trickle out of their mouths.
Alarms began to blare through the complex. Captain Stubbs would not get away so easily. Indeed, he was in a long hallway, and on a whim was opening every door he came across. The disruption was causing the holodecks to freeze. They were not built with the ability to continue if there was a pause in the program. Those prisoners still with an ounce of sanity realized what was going on and some timidly, others more boldly rushed out. It'd helped that he'd yell at them to flee.
He looked at a door without a number on it (something he had never seen in this building) and pushed the door open. Inside was a woman, standing in the midst of a Klingon tribunal. She had looked defiant as if expecting to be killed but looked awkwardly at the frozen Klingons.
"Come on!" he shouted, waving her over. She looked over and spotted him. She hesitated. "Follow me if you want to be free!"
She took one glance at the frozen figures and hurried out, ducking underneath the barrel arms of a particularly nasty looking brute. She entered the hallway, her face dirty and wearing old fashioned glasses. Her hair was parched, the long black hair frayed. Her body was shrunken a bit with hunger, but he assumed healthy she was a slightly woman.
"What's going on?" she asked, "Where am I?"
"Secret hideout for a secret organization," he replied.
"Tal Shiar?" she asked, looking at his own nearly spotless uniform.
He shook his head. He was about to answer when the sounds of phaser fire erupted, people scrambling every direction. It had taken them longer to react than he would have thought possible in this secret establishment. There was no time to wait.
"Does it matter?" he asked impatiently, grabbing her by the hand, "Follow me."
"Okay," she said, "Lead the way Orion."
He frowned at her calling him, 'Orion'. Perhaps he reminded this woman of an Orion, although he was by no means built like one. He wasn't even green. Or perhaps she knew someone called Orion. Either way, he grabbed her by the hand, and was surprised at just how firm a grip she had. He pulled her along, running past a staircase and heading towards a corner in the hallway.
He had barely turned the corner when the busty woman stepped into the hallway from the stairs, followed by a younger woman of Asian descent. She looked around at the hustle and bustle of a full-fledged prison escape and riot going on. A Nausicaan ran up to her, bellowing. She ducked as the young woman pulled out a phaser and fired, the phaser burning through his body and killing him as he flew across the hallway, bowling over an agent with his huge body.
"All agents," she said, turning on the intercom system, "Shoot to kill anyone not in their cells. I repeat. Shoot to kill."
Edward Jellico stepped onto the bridge of the USS Tempest. It was of the recently commissioned Avenger-Class starship. A lighter and faster ship than most in the fleet with a bit of a bit still in it. His right hand twitched continuosly, something he had always had a problem with. He looked over at Captain Tony Kammer and smiled grimly.
"Are we ready?" he asked.
"The entire fleet is reporting in ready Admiral," he said, "Shall we proceed?"
He looked around the bridge and out of the viewscreen. A dozen alien ships and a dozen Federation ships stood side by side. Ready for a deadly mission.
"The word is given," he said, clasping his hands behind his back, "Warp 7. Now."
One by one ships sped forward, the ships elongating as they transitioned from normal space to warp. Last but certainly not least was the USS Invincible. It punched forward, and a silence seemed to fill the void they had occupied.
Act 8
The time had come. So many webs of war and destruction had come down to this single shatter point. The whole crew could feel it. They were launching an impossible mission with only twenty-four ships. It reeked of desperation, but they needed to go in swift, and while the main fleet was engaged around Castrov IX, Delta Gome would know the name Invincible.
Tryke sat on the bridge, leaned forward. The whole crew seemed enraptured by what they were listening to. By order of Admiral Jellico, they were listening to the battle chatter of the main fleet. And by the sounds of it, it was escalating as more Dominion ships were being stripped from other sectors along with Borg to face the oncoming attack.
"Fleet to execute Battle Normal Space Drop in sixty seconds," Jellico's voice cut over the chatter.
Tryke looked at Harrison. And nod passed between them. This was a black day indeed.
"Is the warhead prepared?" he asked, not looking back at R'Kar.
The large Gorn hissed. "It hasss been the sssame asss when you lassst asssked," the raptor growled, "It is ready."
"Good," he said, nodding, "Helm, drop us out on the Admiral's mark."
"Aye sir."
"5….4….3….2….1….mark!"
The Invincible seemed to buck as it slipped into normal space and phasers and photon torpedoes ripped forward into a major orbital station of the Dominion, explosions ripping through it.
"All pooossangers will nooow board the 15:07 to Magros Town," the mechanical voice commanded, and the dirty figure with the brown poncho and the large circular hat entered the train. It was filled with people galore, and each was carrying a weapon openly. He didn't make eye contact as he headed for a middle seat, with plenty of room to move if he got caught with unwanton people.
He removed the rifle from the back of his strap and touching a button, the long extended barrel switched, rotating and resetting to a shorter barrel. It was much better for close combat. A large goat-like creature was sleeping across from him while the person next to him had earpieces in her ears, playing a Heavy Metal that could have only come from Earth.
The train jerked as the doors closed and simultaneously began to move. He spotted movement out on the platform and glancing out saw musclemen pushing their way through the crowds of people that had left the train. He pressed himself closer into his seat.
"Trouble?' the woman asked.
"Huh?" he asked, not sure if she was talking to him. The window passed into the tunnel and any chance of being spotted was gone. He relaxed.
"The way you are pressing back into your seat suggests so," she said, sounding utmost lazy, "but I wouldn't worry about them."
He wasn't sure if he was all that appreciative of her reassurance. But, at least he had escaped the mob of Hipjarra. At Magros Town he'd be able to get off this rock and back to Invincible.
The ship shook as a pair of plasma weapons scorched through space and passed so close that there were heat streaks across the hull. The phasers locked on and returned fire, the Borg sphere's hull tearing apart as the energy weapon passed through it like cheese. Followed was a transphasic warhead, sliding into the opening and causing the whole circular automaton ship to explode.
"The Tholiansss are reporting that the Valaak and the Capten have hit their marksss," R'Kar growled, his claws flying across the board, firing a barrage of phasers at a wing of Jem'Hadar attack ships bearing down on them.
"What of the Tempest?' Harrison asked, the ship shuddering as Dominion warheads impacted on the shields.
"Two of the three essscortsss are dessstroyed," R'Kar said, "They are having hard time."
"We'll swing back for them. Continue onto the third planet," Tryke ordered, pointing at the ice-blue planet before them maybe seventy-five light-years away, "We've got genocide to commit."
"Don't stop!" Joshua said, slamming into the door that refused to budge, "We got to get out of here!"
The phaser fire was dying down, but what was being fired was getting closer. They needed out of there and quick. The girl pulled him to a fire escape shaft. Now, if that wasn't archaic, nothing was.
"I love you, sweetheart!" he said, looking up the ladder, "Up we go."
"Sorry," she said, grabbing the rungs of the ladder and pulling herself up.
He frowned as he watched her climb up. "Sorry about what?" he asked.
"Orions aren't my type," she said.
"I'm not an Orion," he retorted, grabbing the ladder now she was far enough up and pulling himself up.
"Yeah right," she snorted, "And I'm a human!"
"Aren't you?" he asked.
"I'm only half human," she said, "The other half is Vulcan."
He glanced up at her. Well, Vulcans certainly appreciated beauty. But this popsicle stick of a girl couldn't be Vulcan. Her ears weren't pointed enough to be.
"Yeah right," he muttered, climbing up after her. The thought of escape propelled them onwards to a speed they wouldn't have been able to achieve at any normal rate. They had barely gone thirty meters up before they came to a closed hatch.
"Eyes front soldier," she shouted down.
"My eyes are front," he said, climbing up past her as he reached for a side hatch. He glanced over at her as he got past her.
"Then why are you staring at my rack?" she asked.
"What are you talking about?" he asked, reddening in the face.
"Perv!" she balked, "I knew Orions were filthy, but why are you staring at my bust?"
"I-I-" he stammered, his face growing even redder as he tried to think of something to say. She laughed and slapped his chest as she tried removing the other panel.
"Lighten up!" she laughed, throwing a lever as he did so, "I hear flirting is good in a time of great stress. Helps keep up the esprit de corpe as the humans would say."
With a hiss of compressed air the hatch opened slightly. He helped push it open, pushing her into a wall by accident, grabbing her by the arm to keep her up.
"Flirting is good," he retorted, "When the object actually has something worth flirting about."
The people of the third planet of Dela Gome probably never expected their igloo world to be destroyed. Not even when the machine men and the scaly ones had arrived and built their massive builds of stone did they think they were going to die. An old man sat outside his house of ice and watched the rising of the three brother suns.
But a green flash, brighter than the brothers themselves filled the sky. And a wave of green snow swept forward, flying faster than even the colder winter winds. He sat there, watching it fly towards him, wondering what tidings the brothers brought for them and why the suns were painted green.
There was crying on the bridge as they watched the green thalaron radiation spreading across the planet. There was stunned silence from others. Harrison watched it with a cold gleam of tyrants watching the old misguided ideals of democracy fall before the truth of war. But one sat, staring with nothing but the coldness of someone who understood death better than anyone ever should.
"Shall we go save the Admiral?" he asked. There was no answer from anyone. He had no time for this. "Snap out of it people! We got a job to do. Helm, turn us heading 12.5 mark 3."
"More wounded coming in!" the Nurse shouted, as another crewmember was carried into the sickbay. The whole bay shook, this time almost hard enough to throw people out of their beds. McCoy looked up and saw the burns covering the man.
"Take care of him Nurse Beltoona!" he barked, working hard to keep the patient he had alive. The Deltan had been working in a Jeffry tube when an explosion had torn out half of her face and shattered her entire ribcage.
Everyone was so busy, they didn't notice a beam in of Jemma Grax who lay unconscious on the floor.
Act 9
The train car jolted as they passed over a river where the tracks had not been flush when they had finished it. It had been a long night, but he had not slept. Jonathon couldn't sleep. Not until he was off the planet. The goat creature had turned in its sleep, its back to him. The woman was still listening to Heavy Metal, even though he was sure she had fallen asleep.
"Traaain pulling intooo Magros Town," the computer announced and he looked up, stopping his fingers from drumming on the barrel of his rifle. The train jolted hard as it began to slow to a stop. He looked out, and it seemed in many ways to resemble an Ancient West town. He had visited the few still standing ones when he had been back in the orphanage on Earth.
The train came to a complete stop and the doors opened. He stood up but stopped as her hand shot out and grabbed him. He looked at her and she had a miniature phaser pointed at him.
"Like I said," she smirked, dropping her hoodie to reveal a human looking woman who was purple skinned, "You had nothing to worry about from the Orion Syndicate."
"U-u-us on the other hand," the goat said, turning around and a wrist phaser strapped around his hoof, "Weeee're Section 31. And youuuu're deeeeead, Mr. Lendon."
He looked around and behind him there were three other people (all Human males) that were grinning at him.
"Ablative armor down to twenty-percccent," R'Kar growled.
Six Jem'Hadar attack ships attacked Invincible in a strafing run. Most of the shots were hits, and each one caused a new explosion that ran through the ship. Three explosions roared on the bridge in the relief stations, throwing ten of the bridge crew to the floor in a various state of burns and other more serious hurts. Two were dead.
The Federation ship responded with lancing fire that struck three ships, while a Tholian ship fired a web of energy that sliced through another Jem'Hadar ship. But the Jem'Hadar ship turned to the side and slide sideways, hitting it from both sides and causing the Tholian ship to erupt in a firey death.
"Ssseven precccent!" R'Kar updated, his tongue hanging out, unable to sweat any otherway.
"Can we turn phase shielding on?" Tryke asked.
"We-we have e-enough power for e-either shield-shielding or weapons," Brackles reported from engineering station on the bridge, "b—but not both."
Either attack or defend. A very interesting choice. Harrison snorted, as if the answer was quiet obvious.
"All ships," Jellico's voice said over Fleet intercom, "Mission accomplished. I repeat, mission accomplished. Fall back to Saxjuron."
"Thank the Gods!" the conn officer clapped his hands.
"Helm, get us out of here, Warp 9!" Tryke ordered.
"Ayyyye, ayyyeee, Captain," the helm officer was shaking as she input the coordinates. The ten vessels remaining escaped, the shattered hulks of destroyed ships and the burning upper atmosphere Dominion station in their wake.
"There's the top hatch," the woman said, and with a twist on the knob the hatch popped open.
"Just be careful," Stubbs said, "I really don't want to find anything nasty on the other side."
"Don't be a baby, Orion," she said, pulling her head out to check around, "But it's mighty cold out here."
"Who cares?" he asked, pulling himself out as well, the cold biting into his fingers automatically as the icy winds caught his exposed flesh, "And for the last time, I'm not an Orion."
"Direct all inquiries to my bust," the woman winked and pulled herself completely out.
"HA!" he retorted, climbing up after her.
Where the human woman had once been was now a longer lengthed blond woman, her bearing of military might, not runaway school girl. He noticed her ears were a sharper edged than more humans, but he noticed who she was. Sela, exiled/deposed Empress of the Romulan Empire. And her hands were up. And there were twenty people. All with phasers trained at them.
"Come join us Captain Stubbs," a woman said, in a winter coat, "I want you to be standing when I shoot you."
He pushed himself out and the wind blew in his face, making it hard to see and he walked up to Sela's side. "Vulcan?" he asked.
"You aren't no Orion," she retorted.
"Like I said," he replied with a smirk, looking at those staring at them, "I'm no Orion."
"Now toss aside your weapon," the woman ordered, "And you won't be harmed."
"Really?" Jonathon asked, looking sideways at her, standing still on the train, "I thought you were going to be kill me."
"Exactly," the goat laughed, "She'll keep her promise."
Jonathon also laughed. "Well," he said, "In that case…"
His arm lashed outwards, slapping aside the goats hoof. In bewilderment he pressed the button, trying to phaser Lendon but he was too late and the woman was thrown backwards against the seat, sliding to the floor. He brought up his rifle and pushing a button, a bladed-edge extended along the edge of the barrel and he slashed sideways, the blade slashing through the goats face. He bellowed in pain as grey blood gushed from his face. Lendon spun around, pushing the button and the blade retracted, but he fired a spread of lead projectiles that unlike the sniper rifle did not have a teleporter on it, but a device that enlarged the bolts upon exiting the barrel, creating larger slugs.
Entire sections of bench and wall erupted in debris as he swept the train, one of the other S31 agents heads exploding as the bullet smashed into his skull. The other two agents ducked underneath the benches, firing their phaser wildly. The goat jumped on him, clambering on his shoulders and trying to move his stubby arms into a position to shoot him in the head. He threw himself against the window of the train, the dirty glass shattering as the two bodies flew onto the wooden platform.
People stared at these two as they fell on the ground until random shot began to fly from the goats wrist phaser as he and Lendon fought for positioning. Jonathon grabbed him by the horns and picking him up, smashed him into a wall, and then threw him onto the ground. The goat staggered but still tried to get a bead, but Jonathon blew him away him a single blast to the stomach.
He had no time to breath as a phase blast passed him by barely an inch, the heat causing him to flinch, which saved his life as the next shot would have hit him in the nose had he not flinched to the side.
"Now you understand just a bit of the power we have," the woman said, her voice carrying in the winds, "We were able to change everything in the building with holographic cloaks to make anything we wanted look like anything we wanted."
"Who are you?" Sela demanded, "You aren't Tal Shiar. Obsidian Order? But you don't look Cardassian."
"A very ugly one if she is," Stubbs said and Sela had to contain a snort.
"Let us just say we are a higher authority for the Obsidian Order and as for the Tal Shair," she chuckled, "Well, those who don't work for us are mere puppets of our designs."
"And what are your designs?" Stubbs asked, "What is Section 31 and why do they want to do such terrible things? What's the point?"
"Does it matter?" she asked, "Prepare to fire!"
Stubbs looked at the men as they raised their rifles at them. He looked down at Sela, who looked up at him with her devious eyes. Unconsciously they moved their hands together and held them. No part in dying without being near a friend.
"Don't we get a final word?" he asked.
"Shut up!" the woman shouted, waving her hand for silence, "You can't escape and you won't catch me monologing! D-it!"
Just as she said 'monologing' a teleporter had snatched her captives and beamed them up and away from their executor. They were on a small shuttle, shooting forward into space. The two escapees looked around, and saw no one on board. There was a small statue, and it was swerving towards them, lights flashing as it moved.
"Where are we, Empress Sela?" he asked but suddenly the statue spoke.
"Please direct all inquiries to the bust," the mouth moved on its hinges as it spoke. Sela and Stubbs looked at each other, and burst out laughing.
The Director stepped up, holding in his hands a circular cap device. He walked up behind the human, who couldn't even see anymore because the swelling of his eyes had completely closed them. He lowered it onto his head and began to turn on the buttons, one by one.
"So far you have managed to hold your own," he said, "Not that it has helped. You smell of your own feces and fickle matter. Your suffering has been prolonged far too long."
"Aan u thin tha u wul be abol to reep the infomashun frum muh brawn?" the agent asked, his mouth also swollen nearly to being shut.
"Not thinking at all," he patted the humans' shoulder, "I know."
The agent coughed, although it might have been a laugh. Couldn't tell at this state of twisted facial deformity.
"U wunt lick whut wull huppun," he retorted, spitting thick wads of blood on the ground.
"On the contrary," he said, flicking on the last buttons, "I will-"
The explosion vaporized him and blew out the windows of the room.
The door opened and Tryke stepped inside and walked up to his Councilor Grax, who was laying on the bed, her eyes looking over at him and smiling. Held walked up and grabbed her proffered hand and squeezed it sympathetically.
"Nice to see you," Tryke said, "About time you reported back for duty."
She smiled at him. "I'm so glad to be back," she said, looking up at him, "I hear you are responsible for rescuing me, Captain?"
"Yes," he said, "I had Harrison-"
"Who?" Jemma asked, looking at him blankly.
Oh yeah. She hadn't been around to meet his first officer yet. "Commander John Harrison," he said, "The first officer of the USS Invincible."
"What?" she asked, frowning, "Where's Nathan? What about Joshua?"
A cold quiet fell. It wasn't the hostile cold she had learned to expect from him. "Trust is dead," Tryke said.
"Dead?" she asked, her eyes wide, "And Stubbs?"
"We….don't know," he finished.
She leaned back, taking deep breaths. She was still disoriented, between her ordeal and the surgery that removed the telepathic suppression device. It was…too much for one time.
"Time to leave," McCoy said, moving up to the bed, "My patient needs rest."
Tryke looked up at McCoy and nodded. He turned to head towards the door but stopped as she squeezed his hand as firmly as she could.
"Thank you," she said.
He frowned, genuinely confused. "What for?" he asked.
"Saving me," she said, "Thank you."
He hesitated, not sure how to react. No one had ever thanked him. Cursed him yes. But thanked him? No, never. He nodded and headed towards the door.
But one thing remained on his mind. Where was Jonathon Lendon?
Where he was was in a very bad place. Jonathon jumped behind the stone fence, phaser fire passing through the air as he ran. He turned behind the wall, dropping to the ground and pushing a button the barrel switched around to sniper mode. He had roughly six shots left, but he'd need only one.
Pushing a button, the visor swept before his eye and he began to scan, the visor allowing him to look through stuff that normal sight did not allow. He could see the two agents, moving behind some barrels. They weren't close enough for a one shot kill, but they were firing in a pattern that was chipping away sections of the brick wall, grinding it closer and closer to him. He brought back the visor by a few inches and saw a single barrel. They were close to it. Close enough.
Squeezing a button, the bullet was ejected, and the teleporter placed it right before the barrel, and it exploded, drenching both agents. He stood up, pressing a button and the barrel switched. He fired a spray of slugs, one of the agents being literally cut in half. The other agent rolled sideways, the bullets missing and he ran out of sight.
Lendon ran forward, catching out of the corner of his eye as a teleporter activated. He ran sideways, keeping the barrel at the beam. The beam finished to revel seven Orion Syndicate musclemen. He let loose a spray of bullets, four of them falling dead and another one wounded. But the others dodged behind motorized wagons and boxes, firing pulse blasters at him.
He turned the corner and felt something hard bash him across the chest. Up his feet went and a fist slammed down, catching his midsection and throwing him hard to the ground. Barely had there been time to register the hit than the man was kneeling down on his chest his hands wrapped around his throat.
"We have an empire to build!" the man snarled, lifting him up and slamming his head repeatedly on the ground. "You are your kind are in the way! Die!"
"Ye-" he gagged, "D-d-"
"What's that?" the man snarled, hitting him across the face. "Speak up!"
"I got your phaser," Lendon struggled and pressing a button the man collapsed, his side vaporizing as he was killed, the young ensign holding his phaser in his hand. Coughing, he laid on the ground, trying to get himself ready to stand again.
"Got you!" the musclemen said, lifting him up and throwing him against the wall of the town's equivalent of a General Store. He groaned as he felt a rib or two crack. He slid to the ground, blood trickling from his lips.
"Our orders are to kill you right now," the man hissed, grabbing him by the throat and pushing him up along the wall, "Don't worry, it'll be swift."
Three gun shots rang out, and all three men fell over dead. He dropped to his knees, gagging as he struggled for air. He looked up, and he wasn't sure if he was seeing someone moving up to him.
"Do you want to live?" a woman asked.
"Of-of course," he gasped, his breaths coming in ragged as he coughed haggardly. "Why would you ask?"
"I've been looking for someone like you," she said, "Someone who could help me out."
"Who-who are you?" he asked. He felt her grab his hand and suddenly she came into focus. A woman, jet black hair and piercing green eyes.
"I am Section 1."
Act 10
First Officer's 65978.1: Nearly a month has gone by since Sarah King has returned to the Invincible. She has done nothing suspicious and has integrated very well with the crew. Captain Tryke has indeed been smitten by her, but I am still not convinced that she is telling the truth. Not much for it though, as Tryke has just gotten back from...guess what...marrying her. He is a competent leader, but something is going on here and I don't like it.
Harrison opened the foldable computer in his quarters on the Invincible. They had been running combat patrols with the Warlord and a few Federation vessels. Tryke had been happily married and was now preparing his ship for a cheer-uper of Christmas festivity.
"Open hailing frequency to this location of the following scrambling setting," he said, typing the information into a virtual keyboard.
Tryke laid in bed sleeping, Sarah King Tryke laying in bed, looking at the ceiling. She really did love the man by her, but she really hated to do what was going to happen. The timing was right and she slid her hand under her pillow and grabbed the hilt of the dagger underneath.
"Channel open," the computer said, and the screen changed to show a Vulcan woman sitting on a chair in what looked like her bedroom. She looked at him and for a fraction of a second, he recognized a flicker of fear as she recognized him.
"Time to collect on one of the debts you owe me," he said with a smirk.
A pool of blood ran through the bed, soaking into the sheets as she pulled the blade out and made for the door. The door opened and she hurried down the corridor. She ran, only to bump into Jemma Grax.
"Oh," she said, "Hello."
"Hi there," Sarah pulled out her most seductive smile and twisting a dial on a small ring on her hand, an enormous amount of pheromones was released, "I was hoping I'd see you around."
"Re-re-really?" Jemma said, her face growing flush. "Wh-why?"
"I've always loved you Jemma," she said, wrapping her arms around her, "And aren't telepaths the best at love?"
"I-I-I-"
Sarah held up her fingers and pressed them against her lips. "I'm sorry that you won't be able to experience it with me." Jemma didn't have a chance before the blade slashed through her throat and she collapsed to the ground.
"What is Sarah King up to?" he demanded, "I can't imagine it was purely out of love towards our dear commander."
"You would be correct," the Vulcan replied, "Section 31 has a clear goal of what the future will be. An empire in which all the factions are united under their rule. There are other shadowy elements involved, but not even I know all of them. Some people however are key to stopping the new order."
"Push, Jamie," Doctor McCoy said, running a scanner across her abdomen, "The baby is nearly there."
"That's what you said half an hour ago!" Jamie screamed, sweat pouring down her face as she went through labor. "Where's Sam?"
"I don't-" he said but her hands grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him forward.
"Find him!" she screamed.
The door opened and Sam staggered in. His hands were pressed to his stomach, blood gushing forth.
"D-d-" he stammered before he collapsed to the floor, his guts spilling out.
"But why now?' he asked, "The Dominion has all but withdrawn to the Gamma Quadrant and the Borg are content to allow us free access. Wouldn't it be better to move before?"
"The best time to strike is after one thinks the danger is past," the Vulcan said, "A man called-"
"Khan Noonien Singh said that," he finished the line. "I know the line since I said that, and you well know that. So they are eliminating them, eh?"
"Affirmative," the Vulcan female said.
"Then why is she here?" he asked, "We aren't in anyway a danger-"
"Please," the Vulcan said in a very humanlike impatience, "You are the most advanced ship in the Federation. But, not only that, Tryke has knowledge that could lead to the end of the war before the time is right for the new order. Unfortunately, that means a clean slate."
"But that means the whole senior staff is in danger," Harrison's eyes went wide.
"Exactly," a voice said as the door opened, "The whole senior staff must die."
Harrison spun and grabbing his phaser pulled it out of the phaser holster. But Sarah was already flying forward, stabbing towards his chest. He held up his arm and the blade sliced through his skin. He yelped in pain and punched at her. She dodged and slashed at his hand, and a finger was sliced off, flying in a fountain of blood towards the floor. He headbutted her, and she took a few steps back, staggering from the blow. He went to aim his phaser, but she threw her knife in a graceful arc and it sliced through the arteries in his wrist, making him drop his phaser.
He jumped up and kicked her hard in the chest, a few ribs breaking. She growled and with a swift motion she kicked him between the fork of the legs and he dropped. Even augments like himself was sensitive to such blows.
"Time to die," she said, holding his phaser at his head. The door burst open and a flash of scales went through and Sarah was thrown across the room and hit the wall hard. Standing where she had been standing was a raptor of the most dangerous sort, stalking like a tyrannosaurs of Jurassic Park Earth.
"Not today!" R'Kar roared, his bellow shaking the walls of the quarters. He swooped in for the kill but Sarah vanished, a teleporter of red energy taking her away.
Next thing they knew, the ship shuddered as multiple shots slammed into the ship. "Report!" Harrison shouted, pressing his severed finger to his tunic.
"The Terran ship has just fired several shots at us," the report came in, "We have no weapons!"
"Medical teams to Captain Tryke's quarters on the double!" Harrison shouted and headed out of the door. More hits slammed into the ship and he had a hard time keeping himself standing. "Raise shields!"
"Should you not report to sssickbay?" R'Kar asked, following him close, his eyes scanning the corridor.
"My body can last a lot longer without medical attention," he said, "We need to get to the bridge." Next thing he knew, he was being carried by R'Kar as the dinosaur ran down the hallway to the turbolift, bowling over crew foolish enough to be in the way. "Slow down you stupid reptile!" he shouted as the raptop slid to a stop, serving in the turbolift.
"Sneerak beeno traa," R'Kar growled.
The bridge doors soon opened and the two entered the bridge, the Gorn rolling him onto the floor and down the incline. He angrily eyed the lizard and standing up, saw dozens of ships dropping out of warp. The Terran Imperial ship had stopped firing, but the other ships were flanking it, adding to it's power.
"It's begun," he muttered.
"Incoming messssssage," R'Kar said, "One phrassse: Sssection 31 Forever."
"Phase cloak!" he ordered, "and get us out of here!"
Invincible cloaked out, just as dozens of Gentiela powered weapons passed through where they had just been and passed into warp. Within hours the Federation, Tholian Assemblage, Cardassian Union and Breen Empires were completely overthrown, and a new power had risen. A union of all these people. It was called "The Shadow Assembly".
