Chapter 6
"Wormhole dead ahead," Ensign Papen announced. The vision of the spherical contraption, with a few dozen ships - twenty-five warships and the rest mostly engineering vessels - filled Dana's and Commander Makai's right eyes.
"All right, Ensign. Change course bearing 063, mark 010. Once we clear the Badlands accelerate to Warp 5," Dana ordered.
"Aye, sir," Hans answered.
"That course is not directed at the wormhole," Commander Makai observed.
"No, flying directly at it might attract unwanted attention. We'll wiggle our way towards the wormhole," Dana explained.
"Leaving Badlands. Accelerating to Warp 5," Ensign Papen announced.
"Captain," Kovar said, "I'm reading three Dominion warships changing course to intercept us."
"They're hailing us," Lieutenant Palermo stated.
"Show it on our screens," Dana immediately said.
Everybody turned towards Dana and Makai as they watched the message. A Vorta appeared on their screens and he said, "Thank the Founders! We've been searching for days for you. What happened?"
Dana pushed a button on the console in front of her: the ship wide intercom. "We've been made! Everybody evacuate to the Runabout immediately!" Dana ordered. When most of the people on the bridge looked at her, stunned, she barked, "NOW! That's an order! Move it!"
'Aye sirs' sounded through the intercom and from the bridge as they started to move off of it. "Palermo, Ventura, Makai. You three stay here a minute!" Dana hurriedly stated.
"Lieutenant, download your holographic program to the runabout. Hurry!" Dana ordered quickly. Palermo started pushing buttons.
"What's the plan?" Makai asked.
"It won't take long before our friends out there find out about our modification and then they'll know something's wrong. They'll undoubtedly talk to you about the Changeling, and make threats. Tell them you won't deal, because as long as you've got him they won't shoot, because that would kill one of their gods. Then, you Palermo, create a nice show of a Changeling creating havoc. Then get out of the ship and go to the Badlands at maximum speed. Two seconds you've got to avoid them, then I'll engage this ship. Since you've told them the Founder's an insurance policy and thus you won't kill him, they'll come after me. Once you're in the Badlands, get yourself to Federation space as fast as possible. Got that?" Dana explained rapidly.
The three of them nodded once.
"Admiral," Dana said as she removed her katana from within her Ambassadorial robes and handed it to him. "If you make it to the Federation alive, get this to Duncan MacLeod - two years ago he was still an Ambassador - and give him the coordinates of the wormhole as well. He'll know what to do."
"Yes, Captain," Admiral Ventura answered.
"Commander, take this. It contains the virus designed for the Cardassian and the Dominion computer cores," Dana told him as he took the isolinear rod from her. "Now get to the runabout!" Dana ordered them.
Once they were off the bridge, Dana walked towards the helm. She pressed a few buttons so it also included navigation and tactical. Then she pushed another few buttons and the text 'Safety overrides complete, maximum g-force allowance: 12 g' scrolled across the console. Once done, she pulled the safety harness from the console - installed so the bridge crew could keep standing during the most bumpy rides - put it on and linked it to the console.
Then she pushed more buttons and flooded the bridge with high intensity radiation, harmless to her, since her Quickening absorbed the radiation, but it would hamper sensor readings and effectively make everybody believe there was nobody left on board.
*****
"Sir," the Jem'Hadar said.
"Yes?" the Vorta asked, hopeful. They had hailed the missing ship several times and recieved no answer. At first he had thought they simply had problems with their communications, but the ship hadn't given as little as a light signal - and he could still see lights shining on the ship. He was getting worried.
"Scans of the bridge are difficult; it is flooded with high intensity radiation," the Jem'Hadar answered.
"What?" the Vorta said as he paled; if the level of intensity was high enough, it could even kill a founder. "How high?"
"High enough. There is more. There is a small vessel in the cargo hold, and there is a large hatch installed there," the Jem'Hadar said.
"How's that possible?" the Vorta asked again.
"I'm reading life-signs," the Jem'Hadar continued.
"Yes?" the Vorta again asked, hopeful.
"In the small vessel. It's a Federation runabout. The life signs are mostly Human, Bolian, Vulcan and Andorian too - twenty in total," the Jem'Hadar answered gruffly.
"Hail them," the Vorta commanded, then added softly, "The Founder must've flooded the bridge so the Federation people couldn't use it."
"Hailing frequencies open, sir," another Jem'Hadar said, while the first nodded.
"If you've hurt or killed the Founder you will pay the consequences," the Vorta fumed. "If not, you will release him. Immediately!"
On his little screen the scene changed to the bridge of the Runabout. "What?! Do you think we're crazy?!" Commander Makai said, sitting comfortably in the middle chair. "As long as we've got your god here alive and well, you don't dare fire at us."
Suddenly an orange tentacle wrapped around Makai's neck. He started to gurgle as he was lifted out of the chair. A phaser shot hit the tentacle and it released the commander, then screeches and shouts could be heard. Then Commander Makai shouted, "Helm! Get us out of here!" After that the screen went back towards the visual of the warship.
"The hatch is opening," the Jem'Hadar at the sensor console said.
"I can see that! Tractor the runabout as soon as it tries to escape," the Vorta snapped. Then he watched as the runabout suddenly appeared out of the cargo hold and almost immediately jumped to warp, directly towards the Badlands. "Follow it!" he ordered.
After a few seconds the Jem'Hadar exclaimed, "The warship just jumped to Warp 9 and is headed directly towards the wormhole!"
"What!? Turn around, we have to stop it. They must've programmed a flight path . . . it's going to crash into to the wormhole. Tell all the others to intercept the ship at all costs - fly into it, if necessary! Try the override codes," the Vorta blurted out, as he felt the ship lurch to catch up with the rogue ship.
"The ship's shields have been reconfigured to block communications signals," the Jem'Hadar answered.
*****
*Well, that was easy,* Dana thought as she constantly guided her ship directly towards the wormhole, changing course repeatedly to avoid most of the weapons fire. All twenty-five warships were in between her and the wormhole, with the exception of the three that were behind and pursuing her. With every hit the shields' power diminished, but most of the shots went wide; after all, it was difficult hitting something that was moving at Warp 9 and as erratically as she was. With every turn her body protested against the g-forces working on it.
Two of the ships were moving to intercept her, apparently on a suicide run to collide with her. She grinned and programmed the ship to turn on the side, stay that way for two tenths of a second, then turn back to level. That's exactly what the ship did. It took all of her self-control to handle the g-forces without passing out. The two ships crashed into each other behind her and exploded in a brilliant ball of fire.
By now there were eight ships behind her and still fifteen in front of her. Five vessels in front of tried to box her in. A corkscrew at Warp 9.4 took her past them, while they effectively - or, from their point of view, ineffectively - blew up a ship behind her. Another ship behind her crashed into one of the five now also behind her, leaving ten in front and ten behind.
Eight of them came at her from all sides. She suddenly made a wide swing to starboard, passing them all by. She stayed there for a second longer then absolutely necessary before returning to the heading that took her directly to the middle of the wormhole. The eight ships, with their inertial dampers to full, weren't half as maneuverable. When they attempted to turn to her new path, then needed to turn back to her old one, as she did so too. They did all of that while turning around to follow her back the way they came. This made for some very strange and unpredictable movements, which caused three of the ships behind her to crash into the eight ships that were busy trying to follow her. One other ship from the group behind her flew straight into one of the torpedoes that was fired by the eight. Two others, both trying to avoid hitting a ship, didn't see each other and exploded as they collided.
This left nine ships following her from behind and two coming at her from the front. Her ship lurched several times as it was hit by weapons' fire from behind. Dana maneuvered her ship upward quickly, passing both ships in front of her, then rapidly descended her ship back to its original position. These two were a bit smarter and stayed in the same position; they just turned around and followed her.
Dana saw it happening. The engineering ships rapidly moved themselves in between her and the wormhole - some even made quick warp jumps. She groaned as she forced her ship out of warp and she was pressed forward in the harness. The two ships directly behind her, even if they heard the Vorta order for blocking Dana's path, simply couldn't slow down fast enough and exploded as they impacted with the engineering vessels.
Dana started maneuvering her ship past the engineering vessels at sub-light-speed. Aside from her, only one other vessel managed to get through the turmoil of little and large ships intact. Dana moved her ship to the left, entering the sphere that comprised the artificial wormhole. She fired all weapons and started the ship in a loop; following the ring. After one quarter of the circle, she pushed a button on the console. The male computer voice announced in Dominion standard language. "Warning, warp core breach in ten seconds . . . 9 . . ."
The ship was being shaken heavily, both from the torpedoes exploding on the sphere of the wormhole and from the weapons' fire from the last Dominion warship.
"8 . . . 7 . . . 6 . . . 5 . . ."
"Almost. Just a bit more. Come on, girl. You can do it," Dana said to her ship as she heard the metal screeching.
"4 . . .. 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . ." The ship completed the circle and Dana steered it directly towards the sphere. When the computer announced '1' Dana pushed the last button and quickly disappeared in a transporter beam. The head-mounted little screen - without Dana there to keep it in place - suddenly flew forward, just before the explosion reduced it to sub-atomic particles.
*****
Dana materialized about twenty million kilometers away from the wormhole inside the environmental suit she had prepared for just such an occasion. She looked towards the artificial wormhole and saw the two ships crash into the engineering ships. Directly behind them, she herself started maneuvering through the maze of ships.
"You just have to love the efficiency of Dominion transporters," she muttered, before starting to laugh to herself.
Suddenly the sight changed; it was like two sights overlaid each other. One still of her avoiding crashing into the engineering ships, the other of the wormhole exploding. She quickly checked the sensors on her left arm.
*Subspace shockwave. And the photons are riding its edge,* was the last thing she thought before the subspace shockwave washed through her. She was pulled along for a few seconds and a few million kilometers before she dropped back to sub-light speeds.
As Dana hurled through space she heard her suit ripping, air hissing away and the ever annoying computer voice warning her, "Warning, air pressure dropping. Warning, air pressure dropping. Warning . . ."
Then nothing, as there was no more air for the sound to move through. The water in her body started to evaporate rapidly and as it did so, it dropped in temperature even more rapidly. Dana felt her body rapidly freezing solid and the incredible pain as cell after cell froze over. It was like billions of microscopic needles piercing her skin. She tried to scream, but no sound came from her mouth. Then her mouth and head too froze over and she tumbled further through space with the horrible silent scream frozen on her face.
*****
Several Minutes Earlier
The Badlands
"The Dominion ships have broken off pursuit and turned to follow the captain, sir," Kovar calmly stated.
"All stop. Turn us around and show us what's happening," commander Makai ordered.
A few 'aye sirs' sounded and the runabout came to a halt, then slowly turned around to face the edge of the Badlands. The screen switched, showing Dana's ship quickly turning on its side, and turning back as two other Dominion ships whizzed past her, then exploded as they collided behind her ship.
"Holy crap!" Hans exclaimed. "I didn't know Dominion ships could do that!"
"They can not," Kovar answered calmly. "Not without allowing approximately eight gs within the ship." Dana's vessel did a sharp corkscrew manouevre past some more vessels. "Twelve gs," Kovar calmly stated.
"Jesus Christ," Admiral Ventura muttered.
At exactly the same time Commander Makai said, "By Tomar."
For the next few minutes everybody, except Kovar, looked at the screen in awe as Dana's ship repeatedly avoided destruction. Then it looped, following the shape of the Wormhole generator. The ship got closer and closer to the place where it started the manouevre, but made no indication of altering course or slowing.
"She isn't going to do what I think she's going to do, is she?" Admiral Ventura asked, sharing a look with Commander Makai. They looked back at the screen and saw what they both dreaded; the ship crashed into the burning wormhole-generator and exploded in a blinding flash.
"My god! There's no way she survived that," Lieutenant Palermo stated empathically (empathetically).
"Perhaps she did," Kovar stated still as calm as ever. "I have detected a beam-out."
"What? Where to?" Ventura asked.
"Space, sir," Kovar said, his voice betraying nothing. "I am scanning the area now, sir."
"Space?" Ventura asked, incredulously, "In order to survive in space . . ."
"You need a . . ." Commander Makai was about to finish, when Commander Bolo's voice came through Makai's commbadge almost as an answer.
"Commander," he stated.
"Right here," Makai answered, after he tapped his commbadge.
"I don't how to tell you this, so . . . We're missing an environmental suit," Bolo said.
"What?" Makai said, dumbfounded.
"Commander, I've finished my scans of the region. I've detected one set of Human life-signs, female," Kovar said coolly, then swiveled his chair around to face the commander. He continuing with his left eyebrow raised, "in an environmental suit."
The Admiral chuckled and quoted, "'I always have a backup plan . . .'"
"' . . .and if it's in anyway possible, my backup plan will have a backup plan,'" Makai finished the quote both grinning and laughing.
"Sodeju!" Hans cursed, laughing as well. "Who the hell is this woman? Some kind of top secret Special Forces Commando, or something?"
"Probably," the Admiral said, chuckling.
"Commander, I am detecting a sub-space shockwave coming from the wormhole-generator. It's headed directly for the captain," Kovar told everybody coolly. "It will impact in 8 . . . 7 . . . 6 . . . 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . impact." Everybody on the bridge, except Kovar once again, looked stricken. "She's being pulled along. Now at Warp 2 . . . She has been released from the shockwave, which is dissipating."
"Status Dominion ships?" Makai asked urgently.
"No Dominion ship near the wormhole-generator has survived its destruction, sir," Ensign Kovar answered neutrally.
"Helm, set a course for the Captain and get us there as fast as possible," Commander Makai ordered.
"Yes, sir!" Hans exclaimed, the delight in his voice betraying his approval.
"Sir, I am no longer picking up the Captain's life-signs," Kovar stated, still as emotionless as ever. The rest of the bridge crew's faces paled slightly.
"We're here!" Ensign Papen exclaimed as they dropped out of warp next to a tumbling Dana Scully.
"Beaming her to sickbay, and the environmental suit to engineering," Admiral Ventura relayed.
Commander Makai stood up and placed a hand on Ensign Papen's shoulder, subconsciously mimicking Dana, and told him, "Get us back in the badlands deeply, Ensign, and hurry."
"Yes, sir," Hans answered, already pushing the buttons to do so.
The Admiral and the Commander left the bridge, and after a moment's hesitation, Lieutenant Palermo followed them. It took them a few seconds to get to the sickbay. Once they entered, the Admiral and the Commander asked as one, without even looking where Doctor Marcus or Dana was, "Well?"
"She's as dead as a doornail," Marcus - standing at a console - answered without even looking at them.
Lieutenant Susanna Palermo, who came in behind them, gasped at the grizzly scene. Dana lay there, as if frozen in time. As it was, however, she was only frozen. Her legs were in a totally odd position - as if they had been flailing - her arms were stretched upward - as if she had been trying to ward off something - and her face was contorted in fear and pain, a silent scream was frozen in place. She paled and wanted to vomit, but managed to keep her food in, just barely. The gasp caused Admiral Paul Ventura and Commander Makai to look at the body; they visibly paled as well.
"Isn't there something you can do? I mean, isn't she basically cryogenically frozen?" the Admiral asked, stricken at the cold behavior of the doctor.
"First of all," Marcus said turning around to face them, gesturing with a PADD he was holding, "even if she was cryogenically frozen, I wouldn't be able to help her because this one man, tin can, excuse for a sickbay doesn't have the necessary capacities to do so." Marcus made a gesture for them to look at the small cabin with only one bed. "Second of all," Marcus continued, irritated at the Admiral's lack of medical knowledge, "she's not even close to being cryogenically frozen. When the air pressure disappeared, all the water in her body vaporized immediately, destroying every cell in her body - quite effectively killing her at the same moment - and then, when the water froze, it froze her too."
"Why is it so cold in here?" Lieutenant Palermo asked.
"Cold? It's almost warm," Doctor Marcus answered.
"No, it isn't," Commander Makai told the doctor with a look that said, 'You're probably sucking all the warmth away.'
"Look," the Doctor started as he moved towards them. "Just like in the rest of the ship it's nine- What the . . .?" Marcus said, as he felt the room getting colder as he came closer to Dana's body. He quickly stepped toward her and wave the medical tricorder over her. His eyes widened, then he muttered, "This can't be right."
"What is it?" Ventura asked, not understanding.
Marcus made a gesture to wait as he turned around and exchanged tricorders. When the new tricorder too showed the exact same readings he gasped out, "This is impossible."
"What?!" Ventura insisted.
"According to these readings, her body temperature has risen forty-five degrees and is rising at about fifteen degrees per minute and the warmth of the room is being used to do it. I'm reading electrical currents that I can't explain, but they're repairing the cells in her body - the water is being drawn back in them. It's almost as if she's carrying the spark that caused life to form billions of years ago inside of her . . . This is incredible!" the sturdy Doctor Marcus exclaimed in awe.
"What are you saying?" Commander Makai asked.
"I'm saying, her body is regenerating itself. If this keeps up, she'll be up to normal body temperature in about a quarter of an hour!" Marcus said, excitedly. He checked the readings again to make sure. "Wait a minute, the rate of the temperature increase is diminishing," Marcus said, frowning. He looked around if he could find something different than a few minutes ago. Suddenly his eyes widened with revelation and he said, "Computer, raise temperature around the body to thirty-five degrees Celsius and keep it there." The computer chirped. He felt the temperature rising and he saw on the readout of his tricorder that the temperature increase in Dana's body was rising again. By the time he was sweating from the heat it was even a little higher than before. He put his tricorder down and just watched with the others, dumbfounded.
For six minutes they all just stood there, not able to acknowledge to themselves that what they seeing was real. They just stood there, two of them with mouths agape, not knowing what to do, looking at drops of water falling from the supposedly dead body. Little puddles started forming on the bed as the soft material began to saturate with water in those places. Once the six minutes were over though, Dana's left arm slowly started moving downward, a few seconds later so started her right arm and another few seconds later her legs started moving downward. Of course, this caused Dana's clothes, still as frozen as before, to shatter and fall to the floor, revealing Dana's bare arms and shapely legs.
This prompted Doctor Zeke Marcus to take action. He tapped his commbadge and said, "Sickbay to transporter room."
"Yes, sir?" the voice on the other end asked.
"Can you beam the captain's clothes off of her?" the Doctor asked.
"Sure, what do you want me to do with it?" the transporter operator asked.
"Make like a replicator and add the energy to the ship's reserves," the Doctor told him a little cheerful. The four of them watched as Dana's clothes dissolved into the blue light of the transporter, revealing Dana's naked body. Her arms and legs were now lying normally on the bed. Her mouth started closing; so, too, did her eyes. Slowly the expression on her face lost all its pain. Now she just seemed to be asleep.
"Lieutenant," Marcus said.
"Huh," Susanna said as she was violently ripped from her reverie.
"Go replicate a large towel, two small ones and new clothes for the captain. I've got a feeling she's going to need them," Marcus said, and as he watched Palermo start to turn he added, "Make them warm, she'll appreciate it."
"Yes, sir," she answered and left the sickbay for the replicator.
After she was gone Admiral Ventura said, looking at the pale skin slowly regaining color, "Like looking at an angel."
"Like a Limat," Makai said. When he noticed them looking at him, he said, "Magical beings that couldn't die and pop up in some of our myths and legends."
Palermo walked back in with the stack of clothes, towels, and two boots. When the three men looked closer they noticed that it was a Starfleet Captain's uniform. Palermo saw them looking and said, "I figured she better be wearing what the job calls for her to wear."
"Holy shit," Marcus said, looking at the readings, but still not quite believing it, even if he had predicted it would happen, "Her body temperature is thirty-two degrees and her kidneys have started their normal work, her liver, her intestines . . . her heart is beating . . . I'm reading brain activity . . ."
Suddenly Dana said bolt upright, gasping for air. Then closed her hand around herself, started shivering and said, "C-c-c-c-co-o-old." Her eyes widened and suddenly she started pulling at her hair, as best as she could with shaking and shivering hands. "Aaah," she screamed. For her - as with all Humans - dead hair was outside of her healing capacities and was still freezing cold, hurting her skin. Luckily the brittle into icy chunks of hair fell of rather easily. Once her head was free of the offending cold, she rubbed away her eyebrows. Then suddenly she noticed her pubic hair - the larger surface of hair-covered skin of her head must have covered it before. "A-a-au-uw," she screamed, still shaking like a leaf and jumped off the bed. Immediately she started rubbing between her legs in order to get the offending cold away.
Dana leaned back against the raised bed and, as the last of her pubic hair fell to the ground, sighed contentedly, while saying, "Oah, th-a-at's b-b-b-et-t-t-t-t-errrr."
They had all looked stunned as Dana had started to pull at her hair, but now Palermo came back to senses. She grabbed the larger towel, threw it over and behind Scully, and wrapped it around her shoulders.
"Oaah, w-w-war-r-r-r-m," Dana said contentedly as she shakily grabbed and pulled the warm towel around tighter.
Susanna grabbed one of the smaller towels, crouched down and said, "Foot."
Dana looked down - still shivering like mad - and extended a foot, which Susanna started to dry. Once she was done, she said, "Other foot." Dana put her right foot down and extended her left one. This time when she was ready drying Dana's foot, she said, "Down." Dana put her foot down and Lieutenant Palermo started drying Dana's left leg quickly. When she reached Dana's thighs shifted to the right leg and dried downward. After that came Dana's midriff.
"Turn around, if you please, Captain," Palermo asked after she was done with Dana's breasts. Dana complied and Palermo started at her ass, before drying Dana's back, after which she once again asked Dana to turn around, and finished drying Dana in under two minutes by drying Dana's head.
Susanna put the towel back from the console which held Dana's new clothes, grabbed the panties and handed them to Dana, who took them with her left hand. It was a little awkward, to put on her panties with only her left hand, shivering as she was from the cold, and she needed her right hand to keep the towel on.
"Mmmm, oooooohh, n-n-nic-c-ce," Dana moaned in pleasure as she felt the warm cloth fit snugly around her crotch. Susanna's next gift was a bra. Dana took it and tried to figure out how to put it on with only one hand for a second, before dropping the towel and putting on the warm bra quickly.
"Sh-sh-shirt," Dana said. She recognized the red shirt that Palermo gave her immediately, but couldn't place it. It fit her perfectly, following Dana's curves perfectly, which was exactly the way Dana wanted it. That way the warm material would keep her warm all over.
She zipped up the zipper and said, "S-s-ock-ck-cks." When Palermo gave her the black socks that belonged to the uniform, Dana remembered immediately. *Starfleet uniform,* she thought. She put on the socks quickly, before demanding the pants, which fit her just as well as the shirt.
"Jack-ck-cket-t-t-t," Dana asked, although it was unnecessary. She quickly put on the warm, black with grey patched garment. Palermo held up her rank pips; all four of them. Dana grinned and started placing them on her collar, while saying, "S-s-so, M-m-m-ak-k-k-kai. W-w-whatt-t h-h-happen-n-ned t-t-o g-ggetting to t-t-he F-f-f-feder-r-ration as f-f-fast-t as-s-s p-poss-ss-ss-ssible?"
Makai, who hadn't been able to do anything but stand and watch from his position behind Dana, dead panned, "I staged a mutiny."
Dana laughed, which sounded strange as the shivers disrupted them. Dana took the commbadge from Palermo and placed it on the right side of her chest. "Th-th-thanks f-f-for the m-mmutin-n-ny," Dana said, looking over her shoulder and flashing a quick grin.
"No problem," Makai said, grinning back at her. His two antennae twitched in amusement. "It was easy. There was nobody left on the ship to oppose my orders after I beat up the Admiral."
"What?! You didn't . . ." Ventura started to say, but was interrupted Dana's laughter and chuckles from Palermo and the Doctor.
"The t-t-towel," Dana said. Palermo gave her the last towel and watched as Dana wrapped the towel around her head, leaving only the eyes visible. Dana pushed the warm towel against her cold cheeks with both her hands. She noticed the shivering was dissipating less and felt glad about it.
"Do you mind telling us why you came back from the dead?" Doctor Marcus asked, annoyed, as usual.
"No, b-b-but I'll tell ev-v-veryone at the same t-t-time," Dana said as she gave herself a once over. She liked what she saw: the uniform fit snugly, showing of her femininity a lot more than the old loose uniforms. The grey shoulder patches with the colored shirts underneath gave uniforms more of an air of distinction than the old ones as well. As always when she wore a Starfleet uniform, she felt sense of rightness and irony - just like the first time she wore the Uniform as nothing more than a cadet. The rightness was because of what Starfleet represented and being part of that great organization, she helped found. The irony came from the fact that she had once ridiculed the fans of Star Trek and with it what the Federation and Starfleet was all about. 'It would never be real,' she had said, 'It's impossible.' And sure the details weren't correct; the species they met in real life were completely different from the show, and a lot of the details were completely wrong - but then so had Jules Verne been wrong about the landing on the moon - but as with Jules Verne, the big picture, a paradise-like Earth and a vast cooperation of different species, was completely correct.
She still remembered the day she met the other Human ambassadors who were vying for this cooperation, and when she proposed the names. The astonished looks on a few of them when they said, 'You know Star Trek too?' She had been just as astonished; after World War III - which caused the loss of so many things - Star Trek seemed to have been lost. But, she had found there were still a few people who - probably by watching very old video-taped episodes - knew the show. And, she was prone to believe, some of the knowledge seemed to be ingrained in the Human genetic structure - in people's subconscious - because the ease with which people had rejected the old proposed names and embraced the new ones could only be explained that way.
"I've been thinking, that must've been really horrible, freezing like that," Commander Makai said looking at Dana, now in the proper uniform.
"T-that depends on how you look-k-k at it," Dana said, still shivering a bit. "If I had stayed in space for a long t-time, I much rather be frozen than not."
"Why?" Ventura asked.
"Because, if I wasn't, t-then every time I would get a jolt, I would-d wake up and s-suffocate to death all over again," Dana answered, remembering a particular insane Immortal.
~~X~~
Buenos Aires
2324
*Nick Knight?* Dana thought, as she read the name of the person who was requesting the communication. *Probably Nick Wolfe. But why does Nick Knight sound so familiar?* she asked herself as pushed the accept button, racking her brain for the name Nick Knight.
"Hey, Dana," Nick Wolfe's vision on the screen said.
"Hello, Nick," Dana answered him, noticing his location, San Francisco, from the caller ID information in part of the screen. "You know, Amanda asked about you a few months back. She wanted to know if I knew where you were. She was worried about you, said something about hearing that you were attacked several times quickly in a row."
"Yeah, I know, she's already been by . . . actually she's still here," Nick answered with an embarrassed tone to his voice.
Searching her brain had paid off; suddenly Dana remembered where she heard the name 'Nick Knight' before. "Wait a minute . . . Nick Knight, as in Forever Knight?!" Dana asked incredulously, she hadn't exactly been into fantasy and science fiction, but after turning Immortal you tend check out things which could hold some secret knowledge about immortality.
"Yeah," Nick answered even more embarrassed, and grinning a stupid grin. He pulled up his shoulders, showing there was nothing to be done about it now. "At the time I needed a name quick; didn't think it through too well. I regretted it, the moment I said it, but what's done is done. Almost cost me my head four times too."
"Aah, let me guess; all of them were thinking, 'Hey, it could be a coincidence, but let's make certain if there's someone attached to that name who's actually old enough to remember the television show,'" Dana said mockingly.
"Yes, I know it was stupid, but you should've heard Amanda - as if the world had exploded. 'I can't believe you're so stupid.' 'You're four hundred years old, you should know better.' Blah blah blah blah, yackedy smackedy. And then she walked out of my apartment in anger. I swear, I think I saw smoke coming out of her nose and ears; she didn't talk to me for a week," Nick said, thinking he had a sympathetic ear.
"Well, I'll give you some advice," Dana said overly cheerful, being the exact opposite of sympathetic, "you're next name should be very inconspicuous, and I've got just the name you should use. What do you think of 'Lucien Lacroix'?
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but this time I agree with Amanda," Dana added for good measure. "So, why did you call me? It isn't because you wanted to complain about Amanda, is it."
"Yes, I know I was stupid, the four near beheadings in one week gave me a pretty good clue, and no, I did not call just to complain about Amanda . . . I need your help," Nick said, a bit exasperated.
"With what?" Dana asked in a friendly tone.
"I'm a cop - yes, I know, it's not surprising - but I'm not any cop, I'm with Starfleet Interplanetary Police Force," Nick explained.
"Starpol, for short. Yes, I know . . . and?" Dana asked.
"Well, I've got this new case - a serial killer. In the last few weeks there have been twenty killings across the world, all of them on older people and ex-Starfleet personnel," Nick said gravely.
"So? I'm certain there have been serial killers before. What's so strange about this one that you need my help?" Dana asked, a little intrigued.
"This guy or girl has done it before. I checked other planets for the same MO, just on a hunch. The killings started two years ago. On Andorra he killed two - a married couple - both ex-Starfleet, both above seventy. On Starbase 71 he killed a Vulcan, this one still in Starfleet. On Vulcan itself, he killed a few more Vulcans, and this is just the beginning. In total he has already killed forty-two people, all of them over seventy, all of them in Starfleet, or they were once in Starfleet. The fact that he killed on different planets and even Starbases is strange enough; most serial killers remain on the same planet or base. That he targets people above seventy is even stranger. Until this day I have never heard of a serial killer who only kills older people. On top of that, they are all Starfleet or ex-Starfleet," Nick explained.
"And you're thinking this might not be such a random choosing of victims, but more dedicated precise acts of . . . vengeance, perhaps?" Dana asked Nick.
"Oh, yes. That would, however, require something that ties them together, so I did some checking. They were all serving on board the USS Enterprise, NCC-1701, in 2268," Nick told Dana with a grim face.
"The plot thickens," Dana said.
"Indeed it does. So, now everybody on my team is looking for somebody who was on board the Enterprise during 2268, who has a long life span, and who has a good reason for revenge, or some other reason to kill people who were on board the Enterprise then," Nick said. Then, with grim tone, he continued, "I, however, checked another avenue. I didn't check the living, I checked the dead, specifically Human dead."
"Why do you think he is one of us?" Dana asked Nick.
"His MO. You see, he first tortures his victims for about half an hour, then he phasers them down, but not enough to kill 'em and then he cuts their heads off with a sharp object. After that, he dumps the body and the head somewhere away from the place where he killed them and away from each other. He most likely kills them in - for him - familiar surroundings. Metallurgical analysis on the small pieces of metal that were found in the neck wound suggests a seventeenth century rapier," Nick told Dana.
"Aah," Dana said.
"So I was thinking, what if this guy died on board the Enterprise, they put him in a casket, shot him into space before he revived and spent about fifty years in space, constantly reawakening and suffocating to death over and over again every time his casket got jolted, until one of us finally freed him from his ordeal? Think that is enough for an insane vengeance spree of death?" Nick asked still as grim as before.
"Oh, yes, more than enough," Dana answered. "So, how many names have you got who fit the criteria?"
"Fifteen," Nick answered.
"That's a lot. Have you removed the names of which the mothers had an easy birth?" Dana asked.
"No," Nick answered, as he pushed a few buttons, "why is that?"
"To build up our Quickening requires a lot of energy. Pre-Immortal children take that from their mother. My mother barely survived my birth. Before 1960, every mother giving birth to a pre-Immortal died during birth. That's part of the reason why all of us born before that time were foundlings," Dana answered him.
"Aah," Nick answered, then looked down as the computer chirped a response.
"How many are left?" Dana asked.
"Six," Nick was about to continue and specify all six, but Dana held up her hand for him to stop.
"Eliminate those who were not given some form of nutritional additive and did not complain about being drained all the time," Dana told Nick. And after a few seconds she asked, "How many?"
"Three are left," Nick stated.
"Name them," Dana demanded.
"Aki Irika, born in Zaire in 2237, security officer. Got shot during an away mission in April 2268 - why they gave security personnel bright red uniforms back then is beyond me. Natasha Hyrup, Danish, born 2245, died during an accidental release of poisonous gas in June 2268; her mother died during childbirth. And finally Peter Kalinsky, Polish, born in 2229, died in September 2268 repairing a turbo lift - he didn't secure himself well enough."
"My money's on the girl. Download their files to me; I'll see what I can find. You keep checking on your end. And Nick . . . if this does turn out to be an Immortal, no cops; we'll do this the old fashioned way," Dana answered.
"Of course. I wouldn't have it any other way," Nick confirmed grimly.
*****
It was two days later and Dana had finally found a solid lead. Now, it was only a matter of finding him, and if she was correct that is exactly what she had done. A face appeared on the screen and Dana asked, "Dieter Krill?"
The man was taken aback lightly, he hadn't expected the caller to know his real name. He quickly surmised that she was an Immortal, but he had to keep up the facade just in case. "No, the name's Carlton Michaels. What's got your head so worked up about?"
Dana notice the reference immediately, "Your teacher, Makis, he got killed two years back, correct? By his own student?"
"Yeah. Why do you want to know?" Dieter asked wearily, afraid he might be talking to a headhunter who hunted down and killed 'evil' people and thinking he was the one who killed Makos.
"How was that student found?" Dana asked, getting impatient.
"He floated in a casket in space," Dieter answered, intrigue starting to lace his voice.
"Was it a woman?" Dana asked.
"No," Dieter answered.
*I guess I was wrong,* Dana thought. She moved the PADD in front of the screen and asked, "Was it this man, Aki Irika?"
"No," Dieter answered again, getting restless.
"This one then, Peter Kalinsky?" Dana asked, after she pushed the button to go forward to the next file.
"Yeah, that's the bastard. Do you know where he is? Because I want his head!" Dieter exclaimed with fire in his eyes.
"Not precisely, but he's most likely in San Francisco, Earth," Dana answered him, thinking, *Got ya.*
"Are you after his head? Because I want this bastard myself!" Dieter exclaimed with conviction.
"In a way. We think poor Peter went a little insane during his stay in his casket, that he went on a killing spree, trying to kill everybody who was with him on the Enterprise when he died. If we're correct, he's already killed forty-two people. There were over four hundred on board the Enterprise," Dana answered Dieter.
"You think you can leave him to me?" Dieter asked grimly, but hopeful.
"That depends on whether you're here before his next murder. Which leads me to the next question: has your teacher ever taught you something about hunting and preparing for a kill, something specific, something Kalinsky might be using?" Dana asked him.
"Yes, he taught us to observe the prey for at least two weeks and up to four weeks; learn his skills and his habits. That way it's easier to defeat him," Krill answered.
"It's been three weeks since his last murder, he could strike at any moment," Dana said, sullen.
"I'm taking the next flight to Earth. I'll call you when I get there, and you call me if it's over before that," Krill stated.
"Agreed. I'll see you then," Dana answered him quickly, then made the call to Nick.
"Nick Knight," Nick said.
"Nick, it's me. It's Peter Kalinsky. He killed his teacher, an old one by the name of Makis, a little over two years back," Dana rushed out the words, for they had no time to waste. "Makis taught his students to observe their prey for two to four weeks."
"It's been three," Nick said, a little stricken, knowing he didn't need to elaborate. He regained his composure and urgency quickly as he said, "I'll check his picture to other records, find out what name or names he's using, find out where he's staying, and any property he might have."
"I'll do the same," Dana answered.
*****
The old man walked along the road. He knew San Francisco well; he'd spent a long time of his life there. The cane clicked on the pavement in a steady rhythm. Even though he was over ninety years old, he could still easily walk towards Starfleet Academy, where he was scheduled to appear at a medical symposium. He didn't need a pickup or a beam in. He snorted, remembering the young smarty-pants who had suggested them only twenty-five minutes ago.
The walk would be a good workout.
*Aah, Emony,* he thought as a stray memory entered his brain, grinning widely. *That must've been almost eighty years ago, I was still in my teens.*
Suddenly two hands grabbed him, one of them clamped over his mouth, and he was pulled in an ally.
"Hello there, Bones," a vaguely familiar voice said close to his ear in a low eerie tone, before it laughed insanely. Then Leonard McCoy felt a needle enter his neck and everything went black.
*****
"Dana, we've got a problem," Nick's face on the screen said, hurriedly.
"What is it?" Dana asked, dreading Nick's answer.
"Admiral McCoy was slated to hold an speech at the symposium over at the Academy half an hour ago; he didn't show. They checked the route he said he would take - he's missing," Nick explained.
"Shit," Dana sighed. "I've found three properties . . ."
"Me too. Two warehouses in the city and an old estate outside the city," Nick interrupted her. "I propose I check out the estate; you take the warehouse on Eight street. If he isn't there, we'll move on to the warehouse on twenty-sixth."
"Agreed," Dana answered.
*****
"Hey, Bones. Come on, Bones. Wake up, Bones," Peter Kalinsky said cheerily as he slapped McCoy's face lightly.
McCoy slowly opened his eyes and looked up at the insane blonde-haired face of his tormentor. He looked further around and noticed that he was in some sort of barn. It was made of wood and there were plenty of creaks to let in sunlight. It had an eerie atmosphere of age on it. Here and there older and newer machines, most only half intact, were scattered about.
"Aah, Bones wakes up," Peter said, grinning a wide, evil grin. "Come on, Bones. Stand up and let me look at you. It's been so long."
"Don't call me Bones," McCoy snapped as he steadily, but slowly, stood up.
"Aah, yes. Kirk is the only one who called you that. Right, Bones? Well, too bad, Bones, I think the name suits you, because I can see all your bones through that wrinkled skin of yours, Bones. And those bones keep rattling around in that bag of water, Bones," Peter said, laughing out loud.
"I know you . . ." McCoy said, racking his brain for the answer. In shock he said as he remembered, "You're Peter Kalinsky . . . but you're dead. You dropped down that elevator shaft."
"Give the man a cigar!" Peter yelled upward in the air, waving his arms wildly in triumph. "It seems, Bones, that your brain has tackled the teeth of time better than your body." Another laugh, this time a more heartily one. Peter suddenly seemed very serious, almost as if someone else was talking, "It's strange, though, that even though hardly anyone still smokes, and cigars aren't made anymore, we still use that saying to indicate the right answer." Then Peter suddenly switched back to his less stable self, slapped his right hand on McCoy's far shoulder, pulled him closer himself and said, "Ain't that right, old friend?"
"You're an Immortal," McCoy said, putting the clues together, remembering a particular fellow on a desolated planet and a conversation with a certain Ambassador at Khitomer.
"And he wins the grand prize. Tell him, Gaston!" Peter shouted in the air. "Behind curtain number one is a one-way ticket to Hell, where it's always nice and warm, and behind curtain number two there's a mystery prize. What will it be? What will it be? Chose number two and find out!"
"I ain't choosing," McCoy said.
"Oh, come now, Bones . . ." Peter's voice suddenly seemed to hold more danger than the entire Romulan fleet combined as he pulled a sword from somewhere McCoy couldn't see and placed its point on the doctor's throat. "I could always torture you until you choose."
McCoy decided to humor him and said, "Well, since number one is certain death, I'll choose curtain two."
The sword lowered as Peter grinned, "Ooooh! Bad choice, Bones, for behind curtain number two lies a torturous one-way ticket to Hell!" He laughed again.
"You're completely insane, you need help," McCoy said, while he thought, *Come on, Uhura, Checkov. Now would be a good time!*
"Perhaps I am, Bones, but you know what? I DON'T CARE!!!" Peter yelled again, his insanity seemed to grow by the second. "Because, you see, I had such fantastic friends - of which you are one, Bones!" Peter grinned as he slapped his hand around Bones shoulder once again, "- that they didn't even bother to check if I was really dead. And then they put me in a casket and launched me into space where I spent fifty years waking up and suffocating to death over and over again." Peter expression changed, reflective suddenly, "Must've happened about several hundred times. I didn't like that. Nope, I didn't like it at all." Peter laughed again before continuing, "So do you know what I decided to do, Bones? I decided to kill you all. You'll be number forty-three, and then another three hundred and twenty-one and you'll all be dead." Peter's demeanor changed to a serious one as he said, "I was really disappointed when I found out Kirk was already dead. You see, Bones, I was really looking forward to cutting his head off. Oh, well, I'll still have you and Checkov and Uhura and Spock. All of them went on to making such fantastic careers . . . WHILE I LIED DYING IN A CASKET FLOATING THROUGH THE DEPTHS OF SPACE!!!!!!" Peter laughed after his sudden outburst.
"Well," Peter said, with a said voice and sad look on his face. "This is where our ways must part, Bones. Here's where I . . ." Peter's demeanor suddenly changed, he started whipping head about as if in search of something.
"Will die," a new voice finished for him. McCoy could see him behind Peter. He had come in through one of the side doors and was wearing a blue Starpol uniform and he was carrying a sword.
*Stupid youngster,* McCoy thought, *take cover you damn fool.* Peter suddenly whipped around and fired a phaser at the man; it hit dead center. The man, however, did not vaporize as McCoy expected. He did nothing more than stagger a step back.
"Well, well, well," Peter said grinning as he put his phaser back in his short coat. "It seems the old goat was right when he claimed we absorb phaser blasts."
"The name's Nick Wolfe and I challenge you to a duel," Nick said, pointing his sword at Peter.
"Don't try to run away, Bones. If you do and I have to go and catch you, things will be a lot worse," Peter whispered dangerously to McCoy before taking Nick's challenge. "Peter Kalinsky." And then the steel of their swords clashed together.
McCoy looked transfixed as he shuffled gently backward, not wanting to get accidentally in the way of one of the swords. The dance of the men was incredible to him - two men in a sword fight in the twenty-fourth century, and they were good, really good. He wasn't even remotely close to being expert, but the speed and grace with which the men fought was not lost on him.
"You're going down, Wolf-boy," McCoy heard Peter say as he swung his sword in a vicious swing at the police officer's neck.
The man - *What did he say his name was? Nick Wolfe,* McCoy thought. - easily blocked the blow and returned an insult. "That's what they all call me - right before I cut their heads off."
McCoy didn't bother trying to escape; he knew he would never be able outrun or hide from Kalinsky, and he didn't want to make the situation worse for himself than it already was. Besides, he knew, if one cop comes along, the rest are bound to follow. He just hoped they were here in time.
McCoy kept watching the fight and suddenly, while both men were in a heated exchange of blows, they both stiffened. "Hello, Leonard," he suddenly heard the familiar voice beside him. He jumped as he was startled. He looked at Dana and had no idea where she had come from.
"You aren't going to break the rules, now, are you?" he heard Peter's voice it was loud, probably to make sure Miranda heard him.
"Oh, don't worry," answered Nick's less loud voice. "We won't break the rules, but if you manage to win, you'll have to face her before you can get to McCoy." Then the fighting started again.
"So, Miranda, or is it Josie? How have you been?" McCoy asked with a bitter tone in his voice.
"It's Monica, these days. And I've been fine, and you?" Dana asked him.
"One of your friends kidnapped me and tried to kill me," he answered darkly.
"He's not my friend. I haven't even talked to him yet. Until a few days ago I hadn't even seen him, and until just now, I only saw him in pictures. You're not in a good mood, are you?" Dana asked grinning at him.
"Getting kidnapped by an insane man who can't die does that to you," he answered blandly.
"I suppose it does," Dana said, and watched as Kalinsky made a mistake and got Nick's sword through his chest as a reward. Nick disarmed Peter and kicked his sword aside. Peter was on his knees, looked up and saw Nick's sword high above his head. For a moment their eyes locked, speaking volumes within that moment.
"What is he doing?" McCoy asked as he saw Nick raising his sword.
"What do you think he's doing?" Dana asked him.
"He can't kill him," McCoy said, shocked.
"Sure, he can," Dana answered.
"But . . ." McCoy began.
"But what, Leonard?" Dana asked him. "You've got a guy there who's Immortal. Standard medication isn't going to help him. The only ones I could think of that might've been able to help him snap out of it, are his friends of old, and he's been killing them. That leaves incarceration, and you know as well as I do that you can't lock him up for all eternity. Sooner or later someone's going notice that he isn't aging and that he isn't an El Aurian or some other extremely long lived species either, meaning sooner or later they'll come after the rest of us."
McCoy nodded silently and sadly. He noticed some sort of silent communication between Nick and Peter, then he heard Nick Wolfe say an incantation. McCoy didn't understand the exact meaning, but it was said with a form of respect and reverence. It was, "There can be only one!" And then Nick's sword crashed down upon Peter Kalinsky's neck and his had fell to the ground.
"What does 'There can be only one' mean?" McCoy asked intrigued.
Dana didn't turn her head away from Nick as she answered, "Legend has it, that we must fight until there is only one of us left alive, and that the last one of us will receive untold power as a reward. Many of us live by that mantra, seeking out other Immortals in killing them for their power. And even though people like me and Nick don't believe the legends, the phrase has become sort of a mantra, a string of sacred words. It describes us perfectly and so even we use it often."
"What do you mean killing them for their power?" McCoy said, even as he felt wind moving inside the barn, which should have been impossible.
"Let's take a few steps back and behold - the Quickening," Dana said with a little awe in her voice as she stepped back. McCoy followed.
McCoy watched as a blinding lightning strike struck Nick and it seemed to be coming from Peter's decapitated body. More lightning strikes flickered between the two bodies, one alive, the other not. Now lightning strikes also struck at the metal machinery surrounding Nick and some of them exploded. The lightening blasts lasted a few more seconds and then everything turned quiet again.
Dana pulled out a handkerchief and used it to pick up Peter's sword. Then made sure the blade got covered with his blood. After Nick had put his own sword back out of sight, she said to him, "Here, hold the sword for a few seconds. He was about to kill you and in the hectic of the moment you managed to disarm him and behead him with his own sword." Dana looked at McCoy and asked him a silent question, 'Will you collaborate the story?' McCoy nodded understanding Dana's gaze. He couldn't do much more than nod because he still wasn't quite over what he had seen.
"Well, my presence would be difficult to explain to the rest of the police force that is about to arrive, so I'll be taking my leave - I still have a message to dispatch," Dana explained. "If you have any questions, Admiral, ask Mr. Knight here."
"Knight? I thought his . . . Oh, of course," McCoy muttered.
~~X~~