Chapter 13
Back Against the Wall
Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Metron Planetoid
Captain Kirk stood in the bright sunlight at the base of a shallow valley. The desolate, barren planetoid the exact one he visited years ago when fighting the Gorn. Nothing natural grew, at least, he believed it not to be. Like before, the Metrons prepared a small planet in their solar system for humanoid life. With him, Cienna and 'John' stood looking around at the sparse plantation and non-existent animal life. It reminded Kirk of the canyons and old rock formations of Arizona he visited once as a child.
Far above, the Enterprise waited beyond the solar system, locked into place with an invisible projection of energy. Like before, the Metrons agreed to transport Kirk and his friends to the surface, leaving the crew to wait and watch. Only this time, they could not seem to transport 'John', instead allowing the captain to take a shuttlecraft.
Now a pale, thin, boyish-looking human appeared on the ridge. Resembling a young Greek Senator from Earth's past, its white robe drifted gently in the breeze.
"Captain Kirk," its voice echoed, "We did not expect to see you again."
"Thank you for allowing me to return, and, thank you...for allowing my friends to come," replied Kirk, disjointedly.
"We see you are now in the wrong timeline, you do not belong here."
"Yes, that is why we have come, to seek answers," Kirk made a hand gesture towards himself and his two friends. Hoping the Metrons held answers to questions plaguing the Federation and himself. Not through luck, happenstance, or random chance, Kirk impressed the Metrons years ago by defeating the Gorn and sparing its life.
"Captain Kirk, you allowed us to witness the finer qualities of a stable, more evolved thought processes. What is it that you want us to answer." The slim, humanoid Metron offered its hands in a gesture of goodwill. they thought highly of Kirk, surprising them so many years ago.
"I...we... have all been transported here; somehow, we've been pushed through time and dimension. Our science cannot provide an answer." A long silence ensued, the Metron remaining visible, but seemingly elsewhere in its thoughts.
"We can address your questions."
"How did this happen?"
"A space-time explosion of unknown origin spread between Universes; the ripple effect created micro-fissures across multiple dimensions. You being here is merely a coincidence, your ship obviously caught in the turbulence, your companions, likewise. It is possible that other micro-fissures appeared within this universe, our sensors are advanced but not infinite. The space-time explosion's exact coordinate in the multiverse is unknown. We cannot see that far."
Cienna stepped forward hesitantly, her beautiful hair tightly wound, her silky white dress flapping gently in the breeze.
"The Dalek's created a Time Destroyer, a temporal weapon used against their enemies the Time Lords. Where I am from, a time war ravaged the universe. When the weapon detonated, my master's ship was on route to Mars when we were hit by a temporal-time-shockwave."
"If the Dalek's survived, there is a grave danger to all mortal races in the universe." replied the Metron. Even with their advanced sensors, the Metrons had not detected the broken hulk of the Dalek deep inside the gravitational forces of the half-nova so many hundreds of light years away.
"I shared all this with Starfleet-"
"Unlike your captain, we fear the humans will be concerned not with the long-term, or abstract, but with their immediate needs. Do not assume your warnings are heeded. The weapons you speak of are so vast compared to the rudimentary technology of humanity; they could not fathom or grasp their context or consequence. We the Metrons have moved beyond politics, and so we can view it as weakness, the short sightedness of greed, desire, inner conflict."
"Metron," continued Cienna, trying to stay on point. "You have undoubtedly analyzed the plan that the Dalek's envisioned for 'John' in the Enterprise's computer. What is your opinion of it? The Dalek's told me a gate could open if a human recited spells from a book. They built me, molded me, engineered my body to best suit-"
"This is where our intelligence surpasses yours, where we can see the clear path. We have traveled to many places, but words do not guide us. It is not spells or magic but technology that brings beings like ourselves to and fro. Often, superior beings use familiar or superstitious concepts to trick and fool younger beings. For I, here now before you, am not human from your ancient Earth. I simply appear this way for your limited brains to absorb and understand the knowledge we convey to you."
Cienna shook her head in frustration, trying to remain calm and respectful.
The Metrons are taking the Dalek's seriously, but not the book, not the things that were to help them defeat the Time Lords.
Kirk could not help but admire Cienna. As intelligent as Spock, but conveyed in a much different way. Full of emotion and empathy, yet logical and calculating. He let slip a smile. He had, over the last several weeks allowed many such smiles to spread across his face. The most beautiful woman he could imagine stood before him. He did not regret fighting with the Admiralty to bring her along. After some persuasion, they adopted his reasoning. After her debrief there was little more they could learn from her, but the Metrons perhaps could unlock more. The same argument for 'John' proved equally fruitful. Over the last several weeks Kirk had bonded with her, often talking at length about the galaxy, life, and death. 'John' presented a different dynamic - cold, haunted, irritable. But like all great leaders, Jim knew one truth.
Keep your friends close, and… Kirk looked over at 'John', standing solid and firm, looking up at the boy Metron arguing with Cienna. Noting the scars and jagged etching of warfare, the captain asked himself the same question over and over again. Are you my enemy?
Perhaps sensing the stare, 'John's' eyes shifted to the side, his head tracking along. Two behemoths with iron, yet totally contrary wills, locked together like bull elephants. The voices of the Metron and Cienna faded, and the captain found himself lost in the eyes of darkness, of infinite pain and despair. But Kirk knew they brought no weakness, like he, pain brought passion, strength, power. He needed his pain, and he suspected, so did 'John'.
Do you know what I am thinking John? Can you sense it? What secrets do you hold… Kirk fought against the same logical impasse Spock could not overcome. The voices, those terrible thoughts creeping into his mind, they must be something...is he mad? McCoy had detected overactive brain activity for weeks, but all pointed back to 'John's thoughts. No telepathy could be detected, not by Bone's instruments or Spock's mind-melds. If John is insane, that means Cienna is also crazy, as her story corroborates his...and if they are both crazy… then we are wasting our time with the Metrons when we should be out preparing for war.
Interrupting his thoughts, Cienna stepped closer to Kirk, her soft voice blowing warm air on his cheek and ear. 'John' broke the stare and seemed to soften at Cienna's voice,
"James, is it possible the Metrons are wrong? The Dalek's would not have made such an obvious mistake."
'John' cut in, not liking her closeness and attention to the captain,
"There is no mistake, they are real, I hear them even now…"
Kirk took a deep breath, he felt caught, trapped in a strange situation where he needed to choose a direction. I need to figure this out quick... Starfleet needs me, but in what capacity? He turned towards the young Metron, determined to get to the bottom of things.
"Metron. The book is just words, but perhaps there is an underlying danger, a form of technology that could access the dimension of these...things? Here, my friend John tells me he can hear them in his mind. Cienna, my other friend, says the Dalek's created a master plan. Surely they cannot both be wrong? How else can you explain-"
"Dear Captain, causality is not a concept your race excels in. Often you come to your own, erroneous conclusions with little fact. However, your suggestion the words are just technology masked, is possible. There exists many dimensions, perhaps an infinite amount. However, from what you have entered into your computer banks, our analysis diverges from your supposed possibilities. If these unknown creatures are as powerful as described and sought out by the Dalek's, it makes no logical sense that they could not move from universe to universe, dimension to dimension."
Identical to Spock's own reasoning, as well as the Enterprise's computer, thought Jim.
"No Metron! No." Cienna's frustration coming to a boil, "...the Old Ones are held at bay by a gate, one that can only open with words spoken from the Necronomicon. They must be said and believed by a human, or those who have been touched by the Old Ones. This is why I exist, this is why I was destined for Phobos. 'John' was to find me in the realm the humans discovered, unrelated to the real gate, the real danger. 'John' was to be tricked into opening the real gate to save me. I was created for him. The creatures he fought were just...slaves to the Old Ones. Just another race caught up in the Time War. A way to torture him, to destroy his mind and fighting spirit. My master's created an elaborate plan, wanting the Old Ones to kill their greatest enemies, the Time Lords. I do not know if it would have worked, but I do know that 'John' is touched, I am confident, what he hears is real."
As Cienna fought to convey her message, 'John' turned his head slowly back towards Kirk, emboldened by her faith. The soldier's eyes with hidden eyes and voices behind those, sought to consume the captain.
To devour.
He is transparent, we see through him. The great deceiver. When the time is right, you will kill him.
'John' heard the familiar voices, clawing at him, consuming his essence,
No, no...Cienna would hate me, I cannot… maybe… maybe I should?
You already have, we see it, we are always.
But Cienna… I love her, she is mine, always. I cannot lose her, she would leave me. Killing… killing Kirk… no he's a good man, just trying to do what is right...but... maybe she would want me to…? Maybe… if he hurt her… no one can harm her… I am her protector. Forever.
In all times, in all space, he dies.
Despite the hot arid landscape, a small chill ran down Kirk's spine, as if someone walked over his grave.
Up above, the Metron dictated its final conclusion, oblivious to the awkwardness below.
"We have access to all the information you have acquired, plus information that we have gained through our own devices. Right now we see no threat; if information changes we will reevaluate. The gate mentioned in the book, as you claim, appears to be the same one the human scientists from the soldier's universe opened on Phobos."
"No, that was just…" Cienna searched for words, "...a go-between. There are two, one, John travelled through to fight those creatures, and another, entirely different and hidden. The creatures on Phobos and those John chased into their own dimension were pawns, influenced by the Old Ones. They were only slaves, worshipers of something greater. What the Dalek's seek, exists beyond dimensions, through the gate, to the furthest places."
"There is nothing beyond dimension. What you describe cannot be, in a place that cannot be. Your mind is not advanced enough to realize this. We have analyzed everything that can be analyzed, either the facts are incomplete, or the message is incomplete. What you say and have indicated cannot stand. We have scanned your Marine companion, he is human. There are mutations in his DNA, easily explained by his movement between dimensions." The Metrons had indeed looked into this possible danger after sifting through the Enterprise records. And while inter-dimensional scanning was blocked due to temporal interference, they felt once the temporal winds subsided, they would locate said dimension if required. In their eyes however, no imperative existed, no creatures that could not move between universes would be a threat to them.
Kirk and Cienna felt exhausted. Deciding to switch topics, the captain asked a fleury of questions related to the probes,
"Can you point us in the right direction regarding the thousands of probes that have entered this part of the galaxy?"
"We can. We have captured many, we have analyzed many. Please remember Captain Kirk, we are thousands of years more advanced than your Federation."
"Of course... are they from the Dominion?"
"No, from elsewhere, beyond the Galactic Rim. They are no concern to us, no threat to us. We recognize your primitive technology will not enable you to capture one intact. We will afford you the benefit of a fully functional probe. It is for your study, we no longer need it."
The brilliant strategy of Grand Admiral Thrawn related to the probe droids held true even now. The droids were manufactured with no 'brain,' sent through the wormhole en masse and then programmed beyond the galactic rim of the Milky Way. This ensured captured and dissected probes would not lead anyone to their true origin. Up to this point, the Metron's had captured over four thousand probe droids, all void of meaningful information beyond their programming. To report all information possible, broadcasting omnidirectionally, so the receiver's location remained a mystery. The Metron's were by nature, isolationists, and to them the probes and any technology behind them seemed harmless and beneath their concern.
Would a tiger be concerned if a few ants came near? Would the cat seek out the colony and destroy it? It would surely not.
Cienna believed the real danger still lay with her masters, and found difficulty in letting the idea go,
"Metron, do you believe the Dalek's can reach us here?"
"The fate of the Dalek race is unknown to us, the temporal-blast may have destroyed them along with their enemies, but we cannot be sure. There was a Dalek onboard your ship when you entered this universe, was there not?"
"Yes, but it was destroyed along with the rest of my ship. We were caught in a Nova, by luck I survived."
"We are investigating, our conclusion is not yet final."
Kirk's gaze lost itself on the horizon, considering the knowns, and unknowns,
Could a Dalek have survived? Could a Dalek have come through the fissure near Betazed? Are there more Daleks? Starfleet is sure nothing came through. Sensor logs, personal logs, interviews, investigations, all completed by various departments and by hundreds if not thousands of people…
"Did we miss something?" Murmured Kirk to the others, each looking at one another.
"Thank you for trying Cienna, I appreciate it," said 'John' with a hint of warmth, only brought out when speaking to her.
"Thank you John, I tried my best…" she replied, touching his shoulder and smiling.
Kirk said nothing, his mind elsewhere, disturbed. The urge to return to Earth ever present, the endless updates about fleet deployments and strategic updates, top of mind. Doubt now crept into his mind. His gut told him to push on, that 'John' and Cienna were telling the truth, a fantastic and unbelievable truth; but the truth. The rational part of his brain begged him to double-back, Bones warning him not to fall into a wild goose-chase. War between the Cardassians and Klingons leaves us with only borrowed time before the Federation is dragged in. Opportunities to solve problems can afford no waste, answers to our questions are vital if this 'expedition' for truth is to continue.
"Metron, I have one last question, do you...have any suggestions for us? Any guiding principles?"
"Our technology allows us to comprehend many things Captain Kirk. We are the masters of space, of speed, of distance. But with minds as advanced as ours, we also recognize our limitations. We consult another for questions on time,"
"Who? We must speak to this person," Kirk took a few steps forward, if, when everything is done, we could return to our natural timeline...
"Go then, to the Guardian of Forever."
Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - DS9
Four days passed since Commander Riker disappeared aboard DS9, the thorough search of both station and ship continuing nonstop. Crew quarters, Jeffrey tubes, cargo bays, and empty crew quarters were being checked and rechecked. Counsellor Troi spent time on the station conducting joint interviews with Odo in the hopes of uncovering details that may shed light on the situation. Even though years passed since her relationship with William Riker ended, buried memories resurfaced, making task even more difficult. Most stories corroborated the known events, detailing a massive fight in Quark's bar and eventual escort for Commander Riker to the nearest transporter bay. The problem being, no one would locate the escorting officers.
More than a dozen of Quark's guests found themselves thrown into the brig for mischief and fighting; a few outliers charged with murder and attempted murder for the death and beatings of the Klingons. The feline currency trader Shunor, the minx who spoke to Riker, now chatted with Troi through the brig shield.
"Will was flirty with me, paid for my drinks...too bad he is dead, I could have grown to like him, and he me..." she said with a maniacal smile, her predator eyes gleaming in the dull light. Troi fought back her anger and rage, with each passing day it became harder to handle, to fake her demeanor of professionalism.
"...there is no proof that Will would have..." Deanna fought to control a stray tear, "what were you talking about at the bar?"
"I can see he was not just a Commander, isn't that right Counselor. He was so much more. You must know, as he does, " Shunor nodded towards Odo, who stood with arms crossed,"... he is dead. You would not be here if there were other leads. If your sensors had detected a transporter you would have known about it. What have you morons been doing for four days? Starfleet socialist idiots… no creativity... He is dead! Or..." Shunor's white fangs crept out beyond her lips, "...he will be. Do you think your safe-spaces will help you? I liked Will in the small time I spoke to him, even though he was one of you, I could see he had courage, not you though, you are weak."
Odo felt Troi heard enough, and decided to end the conversation with finality,
"What we know, is that you are going to be in a penal colony for the rest of your life for the murder of Klingon Commander Tu'Cha. He bled to death because of your bite. You will go and die there of old age. Your days as a trader are over."
"I will BUY the stars from your Federation! I was meant for greatness! This cell will not hold me!" roared Shunor. As Odo and Troi exited the brig they heard the last of her tirade as the doors slammed shut. "...only the strong will survive!"
Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - U.S.S. Enterprise-D
Captain Picard felt as if someone dropped a shuttlecraft on his head, he managed no sleep, neither did his crew. The Enterprise, parked beside DS9 monitored all frequencies of communication. William Riker, First Officer and friend, still missing.
Soon after the Klingons waged war against the Cardassians, a priority message from Admiral Ross stated in no uncertain terms, that the blockade around the wormhole would come to an end. The 4th Fleet rushed towards Bajor at Warp 9.85, the Klingon's desperate to stop the flow of Dominion ships from the Gamma Quadrant. Intelligence placed the Dominion ships clustering around Cardassia, and so the Federation needed to make a choice.
Strong arguments by a select few politicians thoroughly convinced the Federation Council the flow of ships must stop. Even though no military ties connected the Dominion and Cardassia, the writing as they say, 'is on the wall'.
Across several Federation worlds, a political poison seemed to be spreading throughout some large population centers. Rife with dissident, politicians once able to tow Starfleet's line, now double-guessed their speeches. Picard just digested a short clip of a city mayor on Andoria, a Federation Member World calling for an audit of Starfleet ship deployment locations.
It's hard to convey the amount of stress upon Picard's mind, but the previous paragraph is but a glimpse.
If we are not careful, we will have a full-blown war on our hands, with a population torn in many directions… and yet, Will is missing. I do not have time to juggle so many priorities, Picard smiled as he thought of his favorite author, Sir. Arthur Conan Doyle of the Sherlock Holmes series. Anything and everything to help him balance an impossible task. Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth, so said the mantra. A logical principle, while simple, asks for the most faithful of minds in the process of elimination.
Data suggested it possible the unidentified security officers who escorted Riker were perhaps Changelings. Their infiltration of Starfleet Command giving credence to their ability to mask their actual forms. The android postulated the Changelings could have possibly kidnapped Riker onto a merchant ship, but admitted little evidence existed to support this. Odo, chief of security aboard DS9 agreed in principle of this possibility but the question of 'Why?' could not be answered.
Other remote possibilities did not last long in debate, including phaser disintegration, wilful abandonment, mind control, and the list went on. Every plausible scenario debated, analyzed, and ultimately dismissed. Now though, he fought with Starfleet Intelligence over the identities of the security officers.
"...that is exactly why I need all pertinent information regarding the detection of Changelings available to Starfleet," demanded Picard into his Ready Room desktop screen.
Director Sloan let out a slow sigh,
"Picard, as I have already said, we cannot just hand out classified information willy-nilly. These Changelings are everywhere, they could even be part of your crew for all we know. If they know what we know, then we are in trouble. My team has the hardware required to detect them and we will send information to the fleet at an appropriate time. But only when we can mass produce it, otherwise they might catch a glimpse of its application."
"A man's life is on the line! An excellent officer, the Commander of the flagship of the Federation." Picard could not believe the stonewalling taking place.
"Do you know how many men and women I've lost in the last few months trying to uncover information that is going to help us in the next few years? Longer I suppose, ten years, twenty. I maintain Starfleet's future security Captain Picard, one person, cannot jeopardize it. Where was the outrage when they didn't make it home? I'm sure you heard about the attempted murder of Council Member Bodega at Starfleet Command?"
"Yes, but I have not reviewed the report, I have been a little busy..."
"Let me see…" Sloan looked down at his datapad, searching for the briefing, "...a security officer threw himself in front of a phaser discharge before it struck the Council Member...the guard completely vaporized on the spot. The Changeling was then killed by another guard. Thank god there were witnesses because the security camera was down. You see Captain? We are losing people in the field daily...and this Gilver, sorry, Gulliver. Lieutenant Commander Gulliver paid the ultimate price. I never heard of him before today, but like him, many others are laying on the line for humanity. He's a goddamn hero if you ask me. Service was held this morning, Admiral Paris told me ten minutes ago that he knew his family growing up, or something of the effect...these are good men and women, but you don't see us releasing classified information over it. Commander Riker is no different. When I return to Earth I will assemble a team to track down those unidentified officers on DS9, until then, good luck in your investigation." The line cut.
Picard slammed his first down and closed his eyes, this is unbelievable, how can this be happening?
"Oh...it's happening alright," came a sudden voice from across the room.
Picard's head snapped to the side, his eyes wide open,
"Q! I should have known, only you would stoop to such barbarity! Stop this at once, all of it!"
"All what?" Asked Q with a puzzled look. Dressed in an Admiral's uniform, with a few extra medals attached to his chest, the god-being basked in the spotlight. The angrier Picard got, the happier he felt.
"The Cardassian-Klingon war, the Changeling infiltrations, Captain Kirk and his crew, strange visitors... and, for the love of God bring back my first officer."
"Jean-Luc, I'm here only to say hello, and perhaps goodbye. It has been fun, our witty banter, our delicious and satisfying conversations about morality-"
"Q! Bring back my officer."
"No."
Q kept a smile on his face, a ruse. In actuality, Q did not know William Riker was missing until this moment. Without his power to move forward and backward in time, he experienced everything as it occurred; in the present-now. Typically, a Q could see both forward and backward in time in any given situation so all the previous events and future events would be known while having a conversation in 'the now.' The temporal distortions put an end to this practice. At this point, Q's like all others did not know the future, the fog of the unknown descending upon them. Unless precisely known, a Q could no more tell if something or someone belonged in any given Universe than a human would know if an ant belonged on their lawn or their neighbors.
"Q, listen to me, please," Picard placed his hands palm-down on his desk. "There is significant instability in the galaxy right now. I do not know if you are creating it, if you are the one responsible, but what I say now transcends guilt and self-righteousness. Soon, possibly within the next few hours, the Federation is going to challenge the blockade on this side of the wormhole. If the Dominion does not relent their positions and withdraw into the Gamma Quadrant, it could start a war. Millions could die."
"You are not as dumb as Worf looks. Correct."
Picard, ignoring the insult to his security chief, stood up and took a seat on the corner of his desk,
"Q. You once told me that humanity could reach beyond the stars, that we could become... perhaps one day as great as yourselves."
"Yes, perhaps being the keyword."
"Is this another test Q?"
"Jean-Luc, your insect race is always being tested, judged, and studied. Not just from us you know, but originally from your makers." Q smiled as he saw the look of confusion creep along the Captain's face. "I know you think you know where you came from. That your species was farmed out like cattle into the galaxy, which is why so many of you look similar. Well, I have a secret for you, a long time ago, very very long ago actually, there were those who thought there should be more life in the Universe. We of course, disagreed. At any rate, we ascended into the Continuum and they chose to stay behind to create life, you specifically, and others, but you were their favorite."
"Why have you never mentioned this before?"
"Does your pet fish over in the tank know about the impending war? C'mon Picard, be intelligent," Q chuckled at his own wit before continuing, "Anyway, they are gone now, so we thought it appropriate to take over their duties as judges for all life. So yes, this is a test, and your small, tiny, micro-brains may discover how to pass."
"And if we do not pass?"
"Life, Captain, what does life do when it cannot thrive? It withers, withdraws, and dies."
"But what is the criteria of the test? You are so vague Q. How can someone pass a test without knowing the guidelines? Are you judging us by the same criteria and morality that...these..these.." Picard searched for a name, "...these Precursors were using?" Before Q could answer, the door chimed, "Come." Q disappeared in a flash.
Recently promoted Commander Data entered the Ready Room, surprised to see Picard in such an irate demeanor. In normal circumstances the First Officer position would remain vacant, but with so much uncertainty, Picard saw no other choice.
"Captain, the 4th Fleet will arrive in three minutes, eight seconds. The Dominion continues to reinforce their blockade, the total ship count is twenty-seven."
"Very well...red alert."
Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Demilitarized Zone - Federation Colony World Epilus
Darth Maul and Boba Fett slipped quietly into the courtyard of a run down 'hut' on the edge of a Colonist town. Somewhere the moon shone, stretching shadows in all directions. The duo tracked down Danz Borin, a Bounty Hunter hired by the Galactic Empire six months ago to gather information on the few species in the Delta Quadrant. All contact with Borin ceased months ago, leading to a manhunt and now assassination. It became known to the Empire that he chose to abandon his duties to the Empire to take-up work within the Alpha Quadrant. Using probe droid information as well as Force sensitivities, Maul tracked him to this small world on the outcroppings of the Demilitarized Zone near the Cardassian border. Their mission - to kill Borin, plant a single Cardassian body, and exit undetected. Thrawn counted on the Colonists to suspect a commando team of Cardassians, creating turmoil and hopefully a war between the colonists and Cardassia. Thrawn anticipated a call for help would then be sent to the Federation, pulling them into a terrible political situation with the Cardassians.
Things more or less moved in the directions dictated, with a few small, but unimportant bumps. Thirty-seven Bounty Hunters had been assassinated by Maul and Fett, all abandoning their missions to take-up side-work for profit from traders, merchants, and governments. Thrawn took note of this increased abandon and acted quickly and politically to solve it. While not in direct command of Maul, the Grand Admiral would suggest ideas by way of the Emperor, and then the instruction would go out to Maul.
Now in the dim light, the Sith crept along the wall, his Force powers probing the innards of the small run-down shanty. Danz lay inside, asleep and alone. Boba Fett pressed a few commands into his forearm instrument and a hover-droid came over the shrubs with the underslung Cardassian body.
"Still no sensor instruments in range," whispered Fett. Maul nodded and unclipped his Lightsaber and placed it against the shanty wall. Death came instantly, the ignited blade pierced the flimsy aluminum and drove straight into Danz Borin's heart. Fett signaled the droid and the Cardassian body quietly and carefully slid beside the deadly insertion.
Both men hurried away, but not before leaving a small Cardassian explosive on the other side of the small murky, courtyard.
"Charge set for ten minutes, low yield, just enough to wake them up." Maul nodded again and the pair began moving slowly towards the dark ridgeline, out and away from the village.
"Stop." Commanded Maul as they reached the outskirts. Boba Fett dropped to one knee and started checking his sensors. While limited, they could still give him a relatively large field of view. Both men looked into the darkness; the village appeared a dull white from the moonlight, eerie and ghostlike. After a few seconds, they saw it. A small blue flicker, an engine exhaust, first one, then two, then three. More rose into the air as civilian craft began to lift off from the ground within the village and surrounding area. The distant rumble of thrusters slowly increasing as more took off.
Both Maul and Boba looked at one another, Boba especially worried,
The explosive didn't go off yet… how… why are they waking?
Both rushed quickly to their predesignated encrypted-transporter coordinates five kilometers away. Activating their teleporters, they materialized back onboard a heavily modified Slave-1 in orbit. Boba Fett's ship bristled with all the necessary technology to afford them such dangerous missions. A refurbished Borg sensor assembly, a modified Klingon cloak, and a teleporter system from the Dominion. Many other upgrades helped them stay undetected, but they do not need to be listed here.
"Why did we not detect those ships before?" hissed Maul angrily.
"We did. Those are the crop and assembly ships that all the colony worlds have. They are just civilian and merchant craft."
"Why are they taking off? Where are they going?" Furious, Maul hated compromised missions, "we must have been detected…"
"How? They are colonists. They did not detect us… standby… our device is detonating,"
Peering into his Borg display, fire and dust replaced the quiet courtyard, but the body remained exactly as planted. Soon, he expected to see Colonists running wild, terrified, and afraid. To his surprise, Instead of mass panic, more and more ships flared their engines and lifted off, far more than had been identified.
Boba zeroed in on the readings,
"The ships...they are coming out of caves, deep caves we had not seen. Heavily armed, looks like...looks like weapons have just been attached, welded on."
Now totaling more than four hundred, the heavily modified ships no larger than shuttlecraft created a wedge formation in the upper atmosphere.
"Have we been detected?" Asked the Sith,
"No, they aren't even scanning for anything..."
Hundreds of flashes from warp drives filled their viewscreen,
"Where are they headed?"
"Course suggests, Cardassia Prime," responded Fett, shock evident in his voice. The Colonists are supposed to blame the Cardassians...but how can they react so quickly? Why do they have so many weaponized farming ships… the bomb just went off… maybe-
"Move this ship, now!" shouted Maul, reaching over and tugging on Fett's shoulder. All sensor inputs flickered momentarily as the surface of the colony world seemed to lift and swell several kilometers as rock turned to liquid. The planet's surface expanded like a balloon, pushed upward from a tremendous detonation deep within it. For several minutes, Epilus no longer seemed cohesive, just a liquid ball of broken and molten rock. Slave-1 veered out of orbit to a safe distance to further witness the devastation. Magma spewed from the cracked surface, oceans swelled and the atmosphere fought to keep its precious air. Slowly the pieces reformed under the power of gravity into a stable world, but it's ecosystem and supporting atmosphere did not return. All life on the surface would perish; even the smallest of animals would quickly suffocate or starve as ash clouds spread across the now toxic atmosphere.
Inside the cockpit of Slave-1, total silence.
Everything went right, and yet so unpredictably wrong. Maul maintained his deep thought, his mind fused with the darkside. Searching, seeking, trying to determine the cause of this planet's demise. Fragmented images came and went, displaying maybes and maybe-nots, possibilities, and possibly-nots. A bomb, a massive bomb...but why? Who? I cannot see… The Emperor will see through this, and send guidance,
"Send all information we have registered to Grand Admiral Thrawn, order him to forward it to the Emperor. Now, set course for our next target,"
"Yes my lord."