ZUTEGRE'S OFFICE, EARTH
JULY
2, 2376
Zutegre sat comfortably in his office. He and his people were home a last. Thousands of years ago an ancient race had come and driven them from
their home, exiled them to the other side of the galaxy. But they had fought back, and now were home after thousands of years of
exile. He had made mistake, an unholy, untrustworthy alliance with
the Jem'Hadar. He had promised
the Jem'Hadar revenge, and that Vorta, Jo'hor, the entire Bajoran Sector. He must have known by now that he wasn't getting any sector, and the
Jem'Hadar weren't getting revenge.
He called to his personal assistant, "Zennor, get me Jo'hor on the
comm. Link immediately."
"I sir." Came the reply.
They had gained victory, and now it was time to end the alliance.
JEM'HADAR
FLEET, MOONS OF BAJOR
JULY
2, 2376
Jo'hor sat in his chair in his personal quarters, thinking of what was. The Furies had promised victory, and had delivered that promise. They had promised him revenge, and had given him that as well. The deal was impressive, he was to get the Jem'Hadar to help them,
which was simple because he had gotten his hands on all the ketracel white in
the Gamma Quadrant. In return he
would get to have the entire Bajoran Sector. That was where they had lied, they did not mean to give him any sector,
and he knew that now. He was in
trouble, and he knew it, for to defy the Furies would be certain death. Soon Zutegre would call him, putting an end to alliance, and then not
long after the Furies would attack and dispose of their once valued allies. He hoped that day was far, far in the future. He needed time prepare his ships and troops for war.
A Jem'Hadar officer walked in, "Comm link for you, Sir. It's Emperor Zutegre."
His face showed disbelief, apparently, time was one thing he didn't
have. "Put it on screen."
The screen in front of him lit up, and soon showed the face of Fury,
Zutegre.
Zutegre spoke slowly, and softly, "Jo'hor, I believe it is time to go
our separate ways."
"Why?"
"We have gained victory, and thus do not need each other any longer."
Jo'hor had no choice but to agree, "Very well, I will sign the
documents."
"Excellent, I will send you a five ship convoy, they will bring you the
documents so that you may sign them. Oh,
Jo'hor, it has been a pleasure doing business with you."
His image winked out as quickly as it had come. Those five ships were on their way right now, but what Zutegre hadn't
told him, he could feel it, was that an entire fleet followed those five ships. A fleet with one goal total destruction. He had to run. No, he had no place to go. The Founders wouldn't take him back; they would shun him. All those Jem'Hadar that would easily give their lives to protect
something, he couldn't help. All of them, including him, would die; nothing could stop
that from happening. As he sat at
his desk, he was all alone in an insane world.
ZUTEGRE'S
OFFICE
JULY
2, 2376
Zutegre sat and thought about he story passed on to him by his father. The story of how they came to be exiled. He remembered it well.
Over 5,000 years ago, we were banished to the other side of the
galaxy, after losing a great battle. We
were left with nothing, no supplies, no technology, and no science. Millions died in the first decades. Whole races became extinct. The
civilization fell, and primal barbarism replaced it. There were plagues, and wars fought over who was to blame. Soon a belief arose of home space, somewhere where we were
meant to be. Soon it became a
common belief, and we united. We
had no proof of this belief, only legends, words passed on. Science, technology, and society grew again. Century after century a shadow passed over us, making our
unity stronger with every pass. Our
scientists discovered out what it was, the same machine that had sent us exile. What for eons had been a symbol of evil and doom, turned out to be a tool
for our future. We found that it
used time as a dimension, and thus allowed for interdimensional travel, and time
travel. We found out how to
activate it, and used it to come back to the place that was ours.
Ah, how he loved that story as a child, now it was true. They were home, suddenly; he wished his parents were there to share in
his delightful glory. No one would
dare oppose the Furies now.
JEM'HADAR
FLEET, MOONS OF BAJOR
JULY
3, 2376
Jo'hor walked to the command post on the seventh moon of Bajor. The convoy was due to arrive in less than an hour.
A Jem'Hadar soldier said, "Sir, five Fury ships are approaching, and
requesting permission to dock."
Jo'hor was cautious, "Are there any other ships out there?"
"No, Sir."
"Are you sure?" asked Jo'hor.
"Positive, Sir."
"Very well, allow them permission to dock. I'll meet the delegates in docking bay five."
He walked swiftly out of the command area, turned down the hall to
docking bay five. He entered the doors, and saw five Fury ships sitting there. Good, he relaxed; Zutegre would not destroy the outpost with his own
people sitting right in the hanger. Then
he saw, he heard, four of the Fury ships were taking off. No! He thought. They had not met
with him. He wondered what to do,
why hadn't the other Fury ship taken off? He ran to the comm. Channel, tried to get through, to tell the fleet to
stop those four ships, but it was dead. He
heard something else, a rumble. He
looked up and saw why the fifth Fury ship hadn't taken off, a bomb. The Fury ship blew to pieces as he watched; nothing could save him. He stood in the corner and faced the shadows.
The Jem'Hadar, seeing that four Fury ships were leaving, simply thought
that the fifth one was below signing the documents. The four Fury ships flew for home without a care in the world. Deep inside the base, the fire was spreading fast and furious. It hit the power core of the station, blowing the station off of the
moon. The shockwave continued for
what seemed like forever, hitting and destroying every single Jem'Hadar ship
in its path. When it was finally over, the base was only floating debris,
as was the Jem'Hadar fleet, and half the moon was gone.
USS
VICTORY, DEEP SPACE
JULY
3, 2376
The Victory traveled through the blackness of space. She was looking, searching for anyone, anything that would help her in
her quest for freedom. The people
aboard her were wishing, hoping, and praying to find someone to help them return
home. They were somewhere in the
Beta Quadrant, far, far away from anything remotely resembling home.
The Ensign manning Ops turned to Picard saying, "Sir, I have an energy
surge coming from the outer rim."
"An energy surge? What
kind?" Replied Picard.
"I'm not sure, Sir. I
need to get closer."
"Very well, plot an intercept course. Engage" said Picard.
The Victory slid silently forward, and began to explore the unknown. When closer, they could see what it looked like on the screen. It was unreal, and seemed to be taking up all of space itself, just
floating there. It was a dark,
shadowy, grayish-black, with strange writing all over it.
The ensign spoke, "Sir, if I'm reading this correctly, the artifact
we're looking at is over 5,000 years old."
"What! How is that possible?" Replied Picard.
Someone else broke the conversation, "Ah, Sir, something's
happening!"
Picard turned his head to the screen, seeing it in utter disbelief. Lights all over the artifact were shimmering and shinning to life. The lights stared going on and off, as the front began to glow bright
blue. A blue hole opened in the
middle, like a gateway. The gateway
opened wide to expose a huge fleet of ships. This was part of a neverending cycle, Picard thought to himself. Another fleet of unknown ships sitting at their doorstep, this had to
stop. One way or another, the cycle
would end, here and now.