The Hour of The Wolf
Chapter Twenty-Four

Hanson stepped into the Council Chamber of the Galactica. The main focus of the room was a long table on a raised section near a large window that looked out over New Kolbol. even from here Hanson could see the streaks where dozens of shuttles and other support craft were going about their business.

Due to the Colonies distrust of transporters there was even more traffic than usual over a developed world. Even so he was amazed at the progress they were making. They were reportedly cannibalising most of their ships for raw material as well as mining the nearby astroid belt. The foundation of the capital city below was already well underway, as was what looked like a rudimentary space dock big enough for a Battlestar.

However he wasn't there for that, at least not yet. Right now he was supposed to be presenting the Federation proposal to their governing body. That included Jean-Luc

His friend was in what Hanson understood to be robes of office for the Council. He wasn't happy with the idea of a Federation ambassador serving on the ruling body of another civilisation, but Colonial politics were strange. Colonial society and laws seemed to mostly work by tradition. They followed policies set down millennia in the past. When and if a law was broken a para-military security force policed the situation as an elected tribunal passed judgement according to said customs. Although these days the tribunal consisted of crews of the ship where the crime took place. The Council of Thirteen almost never had any knowledge of what happened.

In that way they were almost Vulcan, the full Council made decisions, but didn't micro-manage everything. At least it was supposed to, right now it was still under marshal law. Another thing he was uncomfortable with, but so far that was a position that hadn't been abused.

Jean-Luc stood up and greeted him. 'Good to see you JP, you remember Commander Adama.'

'Commander.'

The white haired Commander at the head of the table stood and nodded. 'Admiral. May I introduce the Council of the Thirteen.' One by one Hanson went around the table and shook hands with the Councillors. Near the end was a thin old man that seemed to be the oldest. He smiled sort of vaguely but Hanson wasn't fooled, he wasn't half as doddering as he looked. 'Admiral. I'm sorry, but I'm still not sure how your ranking system works. What exactly is one of those?'

Hanson decided to address them all. 'An Admiral answers to the Head of Starfleet. We are in charge of co-ordinating fleet operations between sectors. The Head of Starfleet meanwhile sits on the Federation Council.'

The Colonials looked at him and muttered between themselves. 'Admiral,' began Commander Adama. 'Given your responsibilities, as you've just described them, you are obviously a very busy man. I understand you have an official proposal from your Council.'

Hanson nodded. 'Yes sir, we do and I hope you accept it. Given the delicate nature of the situation only an executive body of the Federation Council met. Specifically a policy board, made up of representatives from the more significant members. Including Vulcan, Betazed, Earth, Tellar Prime and of course the Head of Starfleet and the President of the Federation.'

'That's an impressive list.' Jean-Luc muttered. 'What did they decide?'

'They suggested making New Kolbol and your civilisation a Protectorate of the Federation.' Hanson admitted.

'What does that mean?'

Hanson decided honesty was the best policy. 'Well it's a new position that has been specifically created for situations such as this. Because you are still establishing yourselves and we cannot put forward an official request for security reasons you can't become full members. Yet. However, you still require our support before you become self-sufficient. That's what this new position means. While you can request of us both resources and equipment we can only do so within the bounds of the Prime Directive.'

'Which means that the Federation will not interfere with your culture, or development.' Jean-Luc clarified.

'That will change after we join your Federation I take it.' One of the Councillors suggested slyly

Hanson shook his head. 'Were you to join us you would be required to follow our laws, as well as codes and practices that all Federation Worlds hold sacred.'

'Such as?' Another asked

'Freedom, the rights of all people must be respected. Segregation of any kind is wrong. Above all you must follow the Prime Directive. No interference in other cultures. No matter how hard that must be.'

Adama looked at him strangely. 'What if we do not join your Federation?'

Hanson shrugged. 'Well, from my perspective you don't have to. We won't force you to join. You can remain protectorates or become our allies as the Klingons have. Even, if you want, continue in isolation. I would prefer that you join with us and we stand together as we explore the universe, but it's up to you.'

That seemed to get some respect. The older councillor looked at him with a dazed smile and changed the subject. 'This Protectorate offer, if we are not members we would not have a seat on your council.'

'True.' He admitted.

'How would we contact your people? What would be the procedure?'

'Through myself, Commander Sisko or anyone else you would prefer.' Hanson told them. 'I have the whole proposal on my PADD, I can have it forwarded to all of you.'

'Thank you, that will be most useful.'

'I should return to Earth in a few days, Cycles. I will put off my departure until you have made a decision.'

It had been several days and so far the Enterprise hadn't found any sign of the Phoenix. The Nebular class wasn't as fast as a galaxy class, or as manoeuvrable. However it was capable of running silent. They used a revolutionary impulse drive, it was much slower than standard drives, but more energy efficient. More importantly it defused the standard ion trail, meaning you couldn't follow them.

Without an identity beacon broadcasting Nebular Class ships were almost invisible and Captain Maxwell had disabled it. Unless they happened to scan the ship directly they wouldn't be able to find it. That meant going sector by sector through Cardassian space, looking for a needle in a haystack.

Something that the Cardassians didn't like. Claiming the Enterprise was using the situation to gather intelligence on them 'Captain, give us the codes to the Phoenix's location beacon. We will scan all sectors for it.' Gul Macet insisted to Will.

The two of them were in the Ready Room, yet again Macet was pleading his case. 'I've told you already. The Phoenix is flying on silent running protocol, no beacons and no transmissions of any kind.'

Macet almost sneered. 'The peaceful Federation designs a stealth ship that not even they can detect.'

'Nebular Class is a science vessel. First and foremost, it was not meant to be used in this way.'

'It seems to be very good at it.'

Data's voice came over the comm. 'Captain Riker to the Bridge.' Nodding to Macet Will headed to the bridge. The Cardassian followed.

Data was at the science station at the back. 'Captain I have readings constant with Federation hull compositions. They are twelve light years away on a course parallel with the boarder.'

'Transfer the co-ordinates to the helm. Mr Crusher lay in a course.'

'Aye sir.'

Will tapped his badge. 'Riker to all senior staff, report to the bridge.' Then he remembered something 'Mr O'Brian you too.'

'Yes sir.' The transporter chief replied. On a whim Will had checked the records on Maxwell, to see if any of the Enterprise crew had served with him. Turned out O'Brian was a tactical officer on the Rutledge during the Cardassian war. He was even infamous for his actions at Setlik III. Will remembered the original report, but had never realised it was the unassuming non-commissioned chief.

Since then he'd had a word with O'Brian and brought him up to speed on the situation. In his frank opinion the Transporter Chief felt Maxwell had to believe he was doing the right thing. A small comfort, but it might prove helpful.

Data was still standing there, waiting for the right moment. 'Captain I am also detecting Cardassian ships nearby and weapons fire.'

'Main screen. Wesley, engage the intercept course maximum warp.' Rushing down the ramp he headed to his chair. 'All hands, red alert.' Data transferred his sensor readings and followed, heading for his Ops station. All the while Gul Macet watched. 'Data can you identify the Cardassian ships?'

On the main screen was a low grade tactical overview. Showing three dots. One blue, loosely identified as the Phoenix from it's size and location. There were a couple of large circles over it, illustrating it's shields and weapons range. The other two dots were pale yellow and slightly smaller on the display. There was only one tight circle over each showing shields but nothing else. 'They appear to be cargo vessels. According to our readings they are Groumall class transports.' Will's second officer told the bridge.

Macet turned 'How can you tell that?' He asked before realising, 'You can read our transponder codes!'

Will gave him a look, now was not the time. 'Are they armed?'

The Cardassian scowled. 'Only lightly, no match for a Federation Starship.'

'We'll never make it in time.' Wesley muttered.

Macet agreed. 'Can you expand your scan, see if there are any other ships nearby?'

'Sir?'

'Do it Data.' Will ordered and the screen pulled back.

'One, Galor Class less than a lightyear from the transports.'

Macet stepped up to Will as the rest of the bridge crew took their stations. 'Access codes. If you transmit them to the Galor they can stop this.' Prefix access codes were closely guarded, with them you could remotely override a ships controls. Lock out it's bridge. The Phoenix would be helpless.

'Captain you can't!' John Eddings, captain of the Bellerophon spoke up. He'd stuck around as an observer, just as he said he would and taken the opportunity to come to the bridge. 'Even if Maxwell has broken the law you can't hold an entire ships crew responsible! You'd be signing their death sentence.'

'We'll be signing the death of those transports if we don't.' Will shook his head. 'It wouldn't matter, Maxwell's not answering hails. There's no way to communicate the code' He told Macet. There actually was, the identity beacon could be used to carry the code directly. Which was probably another reason why he deactivated it. 'Tactical, hail the Cardassian ship. Give them the co-ordinates. Its the most we can do.'

As Macet helped warn the other ship Wesley spoke up 'Sir, Phoenix is in range.' The larger circle around the blue dot fell over one of the transports. It then flashed briefly. The Phoenix was firing. First the shield circle around the trailing transport faded, then the dot flickered and vanished.

'He just destroyed our transport.' Whispered Macet in horror.

John swallowed loudly. 'How many people were on board?'

'At least twenty crew. Maybe passengers too. Men with families, good men.' Macet admitted quietly. A Nebular class should have been able to disable a ship that size with ease, not causally destroy it.

'Galor Class approaching the battle.' Data announced and Will returned his attention to the screen. The Phoenix pulled back and turned to engage the new vessel. Data continued to narrate the sensor readings. 'Galor Class is engaging. Phoenix shields are holding. Returning fire. Estimate ninety five percent chance of torpedo spread.' Will had to admit that was a sound move. A spread of torpedoes should make anyone, even a Cardassian Gul, nervous. 'Galor Class shields weakening. Phoenix is pressing the attack'

Will glanced at the readings of the retreating transport. As slow as a Nebular could be it could still catch up with it. 'Wesley get Geordi to squeeze every last bit out of the warp drive. We have to get there!'

'Galor Class shields failing.' Data continued. 'Shield's failed. The Phoenix is still attacking. Sensors show…' he paused, hands flying across the console. 'Confirmed torpedoes fired.' As he spoke the dot representing the Cardassian ship disappeared.

'Three hundred Cardassian officers and crew.' Macet supplied. It was only a matter of time before the people on the second transport joined them.

'Captain, we are arriving in the system.' Wesley announced and a new icon representing the Enterprise appeared on the screen.

Roe'met'felcon and his forces huddled in the shadow of destruction. Looking around at his men he saw no victory left in them. No hope. They had been fighting this battle for weeks amongst the ruins of Qu'lan with only a few victories and far too many defeats. The Cylon's commanded the skies, their craft endlessly patrolling. Roaming bands of chrome plated foot solders hunting them down and searching for more resources to pillage. All the while there were less and less of them to fight back and less to fight back with.

Roe'met'felcon had been forced to loot the dead for power packs to charge their weapons. Supplies of White were low, even with rationing it wouldn't last much longer. Without more of the White all the Jem'Hadar would die. Not that anyone would notice. He had long since given up on victory himself. All he could do now was console himself that he would not fail in trying. That he would fight until unable in the name of the Founders.

But even that was getting harder. His shoulder ached from an early wound that had not healed properly. by all rights he should have been killed, as any warrior that could not fight to the best of their ability should. Instead they needed all the Jem'Hadar they could, so he and two others of is team still lived despite their injuries. The downpour of cold, filthy, rain had been near constant for two days now. Turning the rubble strewn streets into rivers of slurry. Waterfalls of rainwater poured down the otherwise empty husks of bombed out buildings. It seemed that nowhere was dry. Even dripping down the back of his armour, pooling into puddles of stagnant water in his boots.

As he kept the discomfort from his face he strained to look past the clouds. For sign that the enemy patrol craft were still there. Looking for his men, trying to find them. But the cloud cover made that impossible. When the conflict on the planet began he ordered their own jamming systems set up. Making standard sensors useless. It was an effort to level the odds. Right now he was thinking that it had been a waste of time.

As his squad ducked under what little cover they could find he tried listening for the thrusters. but there was nothing. 'First, do you think they've moved on?'

'They know we're in this sector of the city.' Roe'met'felcon told his second. 'They are focusing their searches here. After Moa'vet'ton's squad was annihilated we are the last they can pinpoint.' The Jem'Hadar had split up into small tactical squads, to prevent orbital strikes or bombing runs from killing everyone in a single stroke. The disadvantage was that meant Jem'Hadar were scattered across the city, reduced to running hit and run missions.

'First, First!' A young Jem'Hadar ran up to them from down the street. He was not shrouded, but that didn't matter. The boy was covered from head to toe in mud and all but invisible. He was a messenger, with all the jamming fields clear communications were all but impossible. When his forces found several Jem'Hadar hatching pods in a storage sector they opened them and now the youngsters were a messenger service. Carrying important transmissions back and forth until they were old enough.

'Silence!' He snapped from between clenched teeth. 'The enemy are everywhere!'

The overeager child skidded to a stop. 'The Vorta got word, our fleet! Our fleet have broken through the enemy! Their command ships are being destroyed.'

'Praise the Founders.' Someone said a split second before Roe'met'felcon could. A victory. Looking up again he let the rain wash his face clean.

As his men grinned in relief he knew what was coming. Roe'met'felcon checked his weapon. Full charge. A couple of his men, the more experienced, saw what he was doing and stopped. 'Do not celebrate, these soulless machines will not give up. They will not surrender. They will attack.'

The second agreed with him. 'Then so do we! For the Founders. Victory is life.'

Drawing his pistol Roe'met'felcon handed it to the boy. 'Victory is life.' In the distance, through the damp haze, he saw the now familiar glint of chrome and the sound of mechanical marching could only just be heard over the downpour.

This was his last battle, he was going to make it one to be remembered. 'For the Dominion! For the Founders! For Victory!'

Sela looked at the two Klingon women with barely contained contempt. While their brother was dishonourable and devious he, at least, had the guile to try and hide his short comings. These two were acting as if they were doing nothing wrong. 'The plan can still work.' Lursa insisted.

'We have found a boy, our brother's son.' B'Etor said proudly. 'He is young, but can lead our house. Officially.'

'In truth we will be in charge.' Lursa assured her.

Sela nodded, remembering another one of the Klingon's barbaric laws. No woman could lead a house. She was still not convinced though. 'What of this report. Duras dying in dishonour?'

'A lie.' Snapped Lursa. 'That harlot paramour of the traitor Worf tried to bribe our brother. Promising him that she would convince Picard to chose our house to lead the Empire, in turn he was to protect her and the boy from the House of Mogh's crimes.'

'Our brother had no intention of doing so. When she suggested her voice could swing the other way he reacted as any true Klingon would.' B'Etor jumped in.

Lursa continued. 'Worf was there, in secret. Hiding like the coward he is. When our brother defended his honour he attacked without warning. Our Brother would have fought valiantly, but he was unprepared.'

Sela glanced back and forth at them. It was a pack of lies and deceptions, obscuring the truth like a Ferengi negotiating his way out of a debt. 'And the death of the boy?' she asked

'He was a fool that got in the way.'

'Who can say who's blow truly killed him.' B'Etor said slyly 'Perhaps it was Worf that killed the child himself, in order to discredit our house.' Sela felt almost physically ill at the idea that she was working with these animals

'There are witnesses.' she found herself objecting.

'The human?' Lursa said archly.

B'Etor shrugged. 'A primitive from some lost backwater colony. His word cannot be trusted, most likely he had no idea what he was seeing'

'He could have even been coached, his word means nothing.'

Sela just wanted to wash her hands of this whole terrible business. Blame Duras and his rash actions on destroying the plan and move on. She was even willing to spend time with the Breen, or even the Tholians. Anyone but Klingons. The problem was the Senate had been paying attention. Her career hung in the balance and it was her duty to report this to them.

She knew how they thought. This was exactly the sort of plan the Senate would agree to. Minimal risk to themselves and even if it failed it would generate chaos throughout the quadrant. Chaos the Romulan Empire could take advantage of. 'Are you sure your Council will accept your… Understanding of the events that lead to Duras's death?'

'They will have no choice. Those that support us will be reluctant to admit to anything else. Otherwise their own honour and judgement demands questioning.'

'They won't want that.' Sela agreed, if they were anything like these two they probably sold their own mothers for power long ago. 'What is it you need from us?'

'As before we need resources.'

'Equipment.'

'Latinum with which to secure our support and convince others that we are still strong.'

Sela nodded. 'Then is what you will have. Of course the same deal must stand; Once you are in power the alliance between the Klingon Empire and the Federation…'

'It will be as if it never existed.' Lursa assured her. 'Allowing the true powers of the galaxy to unite.'

'As it should be.' B'Etor agreed.

'We have an agreement.' Sela told them. It still felt wrong to her, but they were only a means to an end after all.

End Chapter Twenty-Four