PUBLISHED ON Jul 16, 2022
Chapter 10, Part 1
A/N: So, hi there folks. It's been awhile hasn't it. For those of you still waiting for the next installment, I apologize for the much prolonged wait. Getting this chapter even partly done has proven difficult between work and other obligations and struggling to maintain motivation for the past couple of months. I think a contributing factor to this was writing 10k+ chapters back to back in an already busy at times schedule that was hard to predict when I wasn't also utterly sapped from work. So to that effect, you may notice this is just part one of chapter ten. I'm going to experiment with working on chapters in parts and posting those at natural stopping points, rather than dropping giant chapters on the regular. Those may still happen where I can manage it, but for now I'm going to stick to breaking things up. I'm hoping incremental postings will help with motivation and also help get updates out faster while also maintaining quality (and I hope this part is satisfactory in that regard given how long it's been). You may also notice this chapter doesn't have a name. Truth be told, I couldn't think of one. If I do, I'll go back and add it later, but I'm not sure naming the chapters has as much value as I thought it did at first. Anyway, here's part one of chapter ten. I hope you all enjoy despite the smaller than usual word count and that it at least holds your interests as I work on the next part. As always, comments, critique and feedback are always welcome.
And thanks to knolden , Myuu , Kisame12794 , and Follower38 for being beta readers and for being patient and supportive throughout this unplanned hiatus.
Korhal, Imperial Palace, Primary Dining Room
Stardate 40108.6
1500 Local Time
Picard
The dinner was, as to be expected, extravagant. There were no less than eighteen different main courses, at least as many side dishes, and dessert hadn't even been considered yet. All told, it perfectly fit what Picard expected of any major state dinner such as this. It did little to ultimately quiet the chatter, but it did help to subdue things once people started savoring the various dishes. Some were familiar to Picard, being variations of Earth recipes of different sorts; others were completely new to him.
The meat in front of him had apparently been sourced from an animal native to the sector, and although he didn't know the particulars of the creature, the marbling present in the meat even after being cooked was evident and telling of a well raised meat animal. Combined with the methods used to cook it, the sauces and everything else put on his plate and it was the best thing he'd eaten in months. The part of him that still longed for dinners with his family when he was a boy lamented the fact that the replicators were so repetitive, and he made a mental note to try and ask for the recipe.
Despite the luxurious food before him, he did note around the table though just how interested in their meals others were. Kowalski, perhaps unsurprisingly, seemed completely uninterested in any of the conversation around her and had put enough meat on her plate that a Klingon would have taken it as a challenge. Horner was picking at the already scant amount of food in front of him, a pensive look on his face, and clearly there was still some residual anger from the suspected stunt Valerian had pulled with the Zerg diplomat. That or perhaps the man was simply trying to lose weight.
Sylddurn herself, assuming the creature even had a physical sex and did not simply present as such, had a more modest amount of food before her compared to the likes of Kowalski. By comparison though, it was much more varied, the Zerg seeming to delight herself in every difference, however grand or minute, between the various foods she'd selected. Picard almost wanted to describe her behavior as being "dainty" even, and she seemed focused on nothing but her food. Were he still not leery of her and whatever motivations the Swarm she represented might have, he might have perhaps been more fascinated from a psychological standpoint.
Dalton and Hanson seemed to be making their own observations about the other prominent guests, which was not surprising. What he noted most was that even though they were separated by multiple other people and on opposite sides of the table, two were occasionally throwing glares at one another. Again, unsurprising, but it seemed even in a more subdued moment their animosity remained pronounced.
Slowly though, the conversations halted, faltered, and in some cases died outright as others at the table watched and grew somewhat horrified at the amount of food being consumed by Riker, Worf and Swann. Notably, they seemed to particularly favor the gumbo, despite repeated warnings pertaining to its potency. If anything, the amount being consumed exceeded even Kowalski, who seemed completely unperturbed by the display. Picard would have wagered his collection of books on the Enterprise she may have even approved. In truth, he was not surprised at this, the appetites of Riker and Worf were legendary, and it always seemed to mesmerize near enough anyone that didn't know them personally. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd been asked by visiting functionaries of all sorts if such a thing was normal for dinners aboard his ship.
Finally, he noted that Valerian himself had seemingly finished his meal, and seemed content. 'Or perhaps,' he admitted to himself, 'smug.' The emperor of the Dominion certainly looked quite confident about the overall situation, and that was likely accounting for the reception of Sylddurn. It made sense; everything had gone so far without any major issues otherwise. There had been cultural friction so far, as was expected, but nothing that could be considered egregious, and already there had been talk of both his and members of the Enterprise crew meeting privately to discuss matters of technology and various other subjects. There was even talk of allowing for a tour of the city around the palace, and perhaps for small parties of the ship's crew being allowed to undertake shore leave on Korhal for the duration of the talks.
Still Picard was finding it difficult to get a true read of Valerian. He wasn't a megalomaniac, or at least if he was he hid it well, and he wasn't just a competent man that had also elevated competent people to important roles in his cabinet. Already it was obvious that he was a master statesman in his own right. The worst of it was, this left Picard at a disadvantage, and they certainly both knew that. He just hoped that, in the end, whatever doubts he knew he held about the man were wrong. After everything that had happened recently, first with the Borg and then the Cardassians at Konnie, he needed to hope that Valerian was truly the reasonable man that he sold himself as.
Protoss Carrier Light of Aiur, Bridge
Kaldalis
The bridge was quiet, save for the usual sounds of the bridge crew at work. Kaldalis was deep in thought, concerned about what the future may hold. When he had contacted Artanis concerning the situation, the Hierarch and his old friend took the news well, but they were of the same mind on the matter. This was a dark tiding of what the future may hold, twenty years of peace, and now a great many unknowns swarmed around them from the darkness in-between the stars outside of Koprulu. That one of those great things was a nation of apparent slavers sat particularly ill with them both. The last thing they needed was more slave raids like those of the Tal'darim. Perhaps when he arrived at Korhal, he would speak to the Terran Emperor about this matter. Artanis had given him the power to represent the Daelaam for the time being, it would be within the capacity of his duty.
At the same time though, there was no guarantee the Terrans would be willing to get involved beyond helping with the refugees already aboard his ship. That they were apparently, according to Artanis who had recently spoken with Valerian, awaiting the arrival of a ship from the same Federation that Cisleb had mentioned was another point of concern potentially. This was assuming they were not already engaging in talks of some sort.
Cisleb had painted this Federation, humans or otherwise, as aloof, arrogant, and uncaring of the suffering of innocents. Certainly he knew that the Bajoran was not unbiased, but the man spoke with very real anger and pain. It could not all be a falsehood, especially if the old Terran homeworld was in any way involved with this so-called Federation. He remembered all too well the UED invasion, and how his people had grossly underestimated them as just more Terrans. He understood well why Terrans generally regarded their birth world with disgust and fear, even if this birth world was different to the one they knew, a strange concept, but one that had come up during their meeting based upon evidence provided by the Dominion's emperor.
Besides, this had all started with a Xel'Naga artifact. He was not willing to discount anything at this point. Artanis trusted Valerian, and he trusted Artanis. Given the information his Hierarch and old friend had passed onto him, he found no reason to doubt it in totality outright. Perhaps this was just a ruse of some sort, or perhaps it was genuine. He may well get to see for himself once they arrived at Korhal, although part of him dreaded having Terosh of all people anywhere near diplomatic undertakings. The Tal'darim idea of diplomacy usually began with threats and ended with orbital bombardment.
"Executor," the voice of one of the bridge guards drew him from his thoughts. There was time to consider diplomacy later. "Captain Cisleb is requesting a meeting. He claims it is important." Not seeing a reason to turn down the Bajoran, he had the wayward refugee captain brought to him in short order, the man clutching a datapad.
He still wasn't quite used to how jarringly Terran the Bajorans looked, even accounting for the minor noticeable physical differences. Part of him was on some level fundamentally disturbed by the apparent closeness of the two species. If it hadn't been for the ship's medical complement confirming the two species were separate, he would have assumed the Bajorans may have simply been a subspecies of Terrans, like how the Nerazim and Khalai possessed notable genetic differences while still being able to interbreed. Even accounting for the theory that Koprulu had shifted universes, the resemblance was bizarre.
As always, Cisleb approached with some amount of deference, even fear. "Executor," his voice was low, and Kaldalis sorely found himself wishing Rersa was on the bridge with him for once. Likely, she was watching the refugees, but she knew more about getting Cisleb to not be so uptight. "I was examining your star charts and comparing them to my own. I…" The man paused and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "I have not been entirely truthful with you. My ship was not alone when it tried to escape. There were three others, we're-we're nearing the rendezvous point we had agreed upon. I don't know what became of the other three ships, but-"
"But you wish to investigate, that there may be but a chance your kin survived. This is understandable, but you should have been more forthright with me from the start, Cisleb," his shoulders sagged and he had to fight to contain his people's equivalent of a sigh. He understood the Bajoran's reluctance to trust him entirely, but this would delay things, at least somewhat, and there were the survivors in cryostasis that were depending upon his fleet making a speedy arrival to Korhal. "Helm," he didn't let any of the frustration show though, he was not sure he'd behave any differently to Cisleb were their roles reversed, "bring us out of warp at these coordinates. If any of Cisleb's people on the other ships escaped their captors, we have a duty to assist them in getting to safety."
No words passed between the two, but he could feel the appreciation rolling off of the Bajoran. Kaldalis was not as powerful in the psionic arts as most others with the rank of Executor, but he was wizened enough to detect such things. Bajorans, it seemed, were a very emotional people, and from the reports given to him by Rersa, a deeply spiritual one as well.
The ship shuddered slightly as it dropped from warp space at the edge of the system that Cisleb had indicated. "Launch a spread of observers, maximum velocity. I want this entire system scoured for any trace of the refuge vessels." Thankfully, the fleet was overstocked with the drones, and soon over two dozen of them were shooting across the system, and clearing out the ever present fog of war. If there was one area the Protoss still had an edge over the Terrans, for all their cleverness and industrious nature, it was automated units, for now at least.
The bridge was largely silent for a few hours, Cisleb simply standing by and waiting, a mix of dread and anticipation rolling off of him. To the surprise of all on the bridge, the sensor data from the observers immediately returned multiple contacts as the drones returned their findings. Multiple sensor contacts had been detected further into the system. Three of them were the same model of ship that Cisleb had captained, and eight more were of an unknown hammerhead design, markedly different from the sort favored by the Terrans. Three were engaging the transports with some manner of particle beam and torpedoes, and another five moving to assist the aggressors. Waves of cold terror rolled off of Cisleb and Kaldalis narrowed his eyes, and he felt the anger deep within stoke itself from embers.
"I take it those ships are Cardassian." It wasn't really a question, and his tone was ice. Cisleb's nod was all the confirmation he needed. "Helm, the fleet is to perform a short ranged jump to the combat zone. Then, I want a channel opened on all frequencies." He paused for a moment, steeling his resolve and stoking that anger a little bit more now. Slavers truly were the scum of the universe, any universe it would seem. "Terosh, Rersa," he let that anger, controlled as it was, flow over the ship's internal communications, "I need both of you on the bridge at once. I expect we will have bloody work at hand soon." He didn't wait for acknowledgement; he knew they would come without complaint.
There was a burst of inertia, and the brightness of warp space greeted them again. Terosh and Rersa arrived, the former clearly still disapproving of Cisleb being allowed on the bridge, but whatever feelings he had on the matter were quickly quashed once the situation had been explained. Rersa's eyes simply narrowed for a moment, and she clearly was unsettled.
"I will not try to argue against this course of action, Kaldalis. You have already set the entire fleet upon this path. I understand that you think this is a matter of honor, despite the risk of war," her voice was soft, as it usually was, but he could feel the undercurrent of uncertainty. "I simply hope that the cost of doing the morally right thing is not greater than our people can shoulder. It would pain me to leave these people in plight, but what do you hope to gain from confronting the slavers directly, even so far outside their territory?"
"Answers, Rersa," he had his back to them both, not out of disrespect, but because he wanted to be ready to face the slaver commander eye to eye. "We cannot grope about in the dark. Had I even a small squadron of Nerazim ships at my command, I'd have sent your kin to range further than even our farthest flung observers to find those answers. But as it is, I am making due with what I have at hand. I will do what I can to keep too much blood from being shed this day, but I am under no delusion that it will not be shed all the same."
Terosh snorted, as much as a Protoss could, and let out a dark chuckle. "Bloodshed is bloodshed, Kaldalis. You know this as well as I. And slavers are all alike. Their pitiful egos won't allow an affront, a challenge of any sort to stand unopposed, but I suppose your Khalai honor requires you give them at least a sporting chance, yes? Well, better for me and mine then, I suppose." And with another shudder of the ship they were back in normal reality, the transports before them having already been harshly savaged. The communications channel was open; it was time to put a stop to this slaughter, one way or another.
"Cardassian ships!" Kaldalis put the full weight of his authority as an Executor into his voice, powerful, commanding, and some would say dread inspiring for a Protoss like Kaldalis when he so desired. "I am Executor Kaldalis, commanding the Light of Aiur and her escorts. Those ships and all aboard them are under the protection of the Daelaam and the children of Aiur! You are to disengage and withdraw from this system at once! Do not try my patience, I have little for slavers."
"Clearly," Terosh whispered, leaning closer to Rersa, "our great Executor does love his dramatics, despite any protests otherwise."
"Be silent, Terosh," Rersa slapped his shoulder. "You're one to talk. Or have you already forgotten your recent theatrics in the medical bay?" Kaldalis paid neither of them any mind.
The effect was immediate, the five inbound ships changed course to intercept his fleet, while the three that had been harassing the refugees ceased fire and took up position nearby to the stricken vessels. In truth, he had expected little else. The arrogance of slavers and bullies in general, in his experience, usually overwrote any sense of self-preservation. Once their authority was challenged, they needed to reassert their bruised egos. It was so very predictable, even the Tal'darim weren't an exception outside of the few remotely like Alarak.
"Executor, we are being hailed." Well, that wasn't a surprise either. What grandiose, self-important speech would he be getting today he wondered? As the image of the opposing commander flashed onto his bridge's main screen, he felt fear and hatred roll off of Cisleb equally. By comparison, the Cardassian had fixed Kaldalis with a look of annoyance and unwarranted superiority.
"I am Gul Thrurhias, you have no right to be interfering in Cardassian matters. These people you are claiming to protect are fugitives from justice and terrorists responsible for the deaths of dozens of Cardassians. My forces and I were ordered to apprehend them, or destroy them if necessary. I do not know your species nor do I care. This is your one chance to turn around and leave, immediately. If you do not, I will consider you to be aiding them and you will be destroyed."
Had Kaldalis been the sort, he'd have rolled his eyes, maybe even laughed at this so-called Gul's brazenness. As it was, this pitiful excuse for an authority figure just stoked his anger further. "Allow me to be clear, this is not Cardassian space. Your laws do not extend here. I do not wish this to come to bloodshed, but neither will I allow you to slaughter refugees. One of their captains already appealed to us for aid, and we are honor bound to render assistance to the other vessels that had fled alongside his. Besides," he felt that anger growing still, part of him wanted to see this come to blows, "if these people are terrorists, than they are some of the most ill-equipped and terrified of their sort that I have ever seen. I think we both know how idiotic that claim is. Leave now, Thrurhias. I will not say so again."
Thrurhias simply frowned. "Then you are as much an idiot as the Klingons, with as degenerate a moral compass as the Federation." The transmission terminated, and the eight Cardassian vessels began to advance.
Tension on the bridge had plateaued, words had failed, and it had been a vain hope they would ever work at all. But Kaldalis knew that firing first was not politically advantageous. He hated politics; in fact he often tried to remain aloof from it. But he wasn't an idiot in regards to that particular dance of blades. It always helped to act, as the Terrans may say, the part of the Good Samaritan who was fired upon in trying to diffuse the situation.
"All ships are to deploy interceptors and additional strike craft and ready weapons, but hold fire until the Cardassians engage us," he kept his tone level, even as Terosh scoffed in annoyance. "Following this, I want the lead ship disabled if possible. The fleet is to engage the rest and destroy them if need be. This is not to be a slaughter. If any of the Cardassian vessels have the sense to surrender or flee, they are to be treated accordingly." The feeling of fear that radiated off of Cisleb only grew, even as it warred with a very real sense of awe and, perhaps, appreciation.
Cisleb
"I thought you hoped to avoid a new war, Kaldalis. Letting any survivors leave here may…not turn out for the better. Besides, they're just Cardassians. There's always more of them." his voice was tight with fear and anger both, and Kaldalis could not blame him. Perhaps it was right of him to be afraid. For all he knew, the Protoss had the raw power to sweep aside even the Federation, despite the claims so far that their people were exhausted and only sought peace. In a clash of so many unknowns, violence was perhaps inevitable, but Cisleb wondered if at least some of this was perhaps urged on by the foibles of the Executor himself, even if he truly didn't care if any of the Cardassians lived. Truth be told, part of him wanted to see a slaughter enacted at the hands of the Protoss.
"I am avoiding a new war. Any survivors will report back what has happened here. Even with their arrogance, unless these Cardassians are truly so stupid, they will take the reports of a strike force being soundly defeated seriously. Even if they return in force, they do not know where Protoss territory begins or ends. If we are fortunate, they may simply forestall operations into Koprulu. If not, marauding slavers are hardly new, and they will find Koprulu is not so welcoming to their kind."
The Light shook as the first volley went to the Cardassians, particle beams and torpedoes lashing its shields and those of the escorts around it. "Besides," his tone grew darker with each impact upon the shields, "I have no doubt the Terrans would do the same in my position. They've already defeated one Cardassian attack against a lone frontier colony, with help from this so-called Federation I may add. If what the Hierarch told me is even half true, then these slavers have already angered half the major powers in the sector. And now, they have angered the First Born." He paused for but a moment.
"All ships are to engage at their discretion. Remember, I want Gul Thrurhias's ship disabled and intact. I desire to have…words, with the Gul." The ship's weapons fired, and they all felt the resonance throughout the hull. To Cisleb, the ship itself seemed to be shuddering in anger, sharing in that of its commander. But if Kaldalis was speaking the truth, perhaps the Cardassians had bitten off more than they could chew. A part of him couldn't help but feel elation at that grim thought.
As the Cardassian vessels closed, the lead ship was hit by a series of strikes from the Light, and the vessel began to float dead in space, continuing under its preexisting momentum. "Scans indicate the lead ship has likely lost main power and engines, Executor." Good, the gunnery crew had done their job superbly, even someone like Cisleb, who had no military experience, could tell that at a glance.
With that, the rest of the fleet advanced, and the resulting skirmish was so remarkably one-sided that Cisleb hesitated to even call it such, and he suspected Kaldalis was of much the same mind. The Cardassian vessels at least tried, he gave them that much. They returned with a commendable fusillade of torpedoes, followed by decently accurate fire from their disruptors. Their formation though, was sloppy, their tactics overall left something to be desired, even accounting for their command ship being knocked out. They simply plowed past the disabled ship and towards the Protoss fleet. It was like the individual ship captains weren't even trying to cooperate with each other. To the First Born, they were easy prey for such seasoned warriors.
One of the smaller Protoss craft, Cisleb heard one of the bridge officers call it a "void ray," charged a particle beam that, even knowing it was a weapon, he could only describe as dazzling as it fired. The great beam of energy lanced from the crystal at the core of it and struck one of the Cardassian cruisers directly on its head. The shields held for a brief time, and then the moment they failed, the ship was practically bisected by the immense beam. Cisleb wasn't sure how the ship's reactor hadn't lost containment; perhaps the beam had bisected it so badly that it never had the chance to properly go critical, its energies snuffed out by the ray.
The three ships who had been harassing those of his kin, meanwhile, found themselves desperately trying to fend off several of the Protoss escorts along with a swarm of fighters, most of which were apparently drone units. It was like nothing Cisleb had ever seen. Certainly, he knew of species with histories of great aces, and even in the modern day the Federation maintained some degree of fighter doctrine, but this was something else entirely. Even as the smaller craft savaged their targets, it was almost an intricate dance, itself a microcosm of the greater fleet movements as they savaged the Cardassians.
Seeing this, Cisleb found he could not feel elation at seeing the Cardassians, those who had butchered so many Bajorans, subject to a similar act, powerless to stop it. Instead, there was just a creeping sense of horror at watching it play out, as even the Light, this massive combat carrier, practically danced around the Cardassian vessels. Like any patriot of his people, Cisleb yearned for a free Bajor. 'May the Prophets forgive me,' he tried to swallow the lump in his throat, to little success. 'If this is but a taste of their power, then I pray even the Cardassians see reason. Butchers they may be, but are we any better, am I any better, if my actions here bring this sort of wrath upon every last Cardassian that lives? Trading one genocide for another is not justice, no matter how many may scream to the heavens that it is.'
Kaldalis
Steadily, the battle wound down to its inevitable conclusion. One of the lighter escorts suffered up to a fifty percent loss in shield strength, but in the end the fleet's own batteries, drones and fighters were too great for the Cardassians to overcome. Of the four ships that had been with Gul Thrurhias's own, they were swiftly encircled. Two were destroyed in totality and the two survivors heavily damaged and disabled. Seeing the fate of their comrades, the three ships that had been harassing the refugee vessels opted to flee, albeit, sustaining heavy damage in the process. The fleet battle was over, now it was time to secure the remaining ships, and perhaps get some more tangible answers as to the overall situation beyond Koprulu. Kaldalis hesitated to call the Cardassian ships diminutive, but he believed his force would have been in more danger from a fleet of inexperienced Terrans.
Still, there was a small voice in the back of his mind, whispering to him. 'Do not let your downfall be your own arrogance, you old fool. You may have won this day, but never assume your first encounter with a foe is their absolute best. How many times did the Zerg and Terrans have to teach us that lesson before it sunk in?' His gaze wandered over the view screen, at the hulks and steadily expanding debris field. 'Slavers or no, how many aboard those ships were truly veterans? More likely, you just succeeded in cutting apart a force made up of untested young warriors, with maybe a veteran officer or two among them. Even the Tal'darim are more competent than this display had been. The next encounter may not be in your favor, and as history has shown, technology alone is not what wins wars. After all, that same edge was turned against our own people not so long ago.'
Then there was the matter of the refugee ships. They hadn't fled, yet. If he could, he intended to bring them to Korhal as well. They'd likely be safer there, under the imperial Terran banner, than anywhere else in the sector. "Captain Foyath, I request that you establish a dialogue with your kin. Inform them that our intentions are peaceful, and that we wish to assist them in reaching safety. Let them know that we will provide what assistance we can in order to restore their ships to FTL worthy status."
The Bajoran simply nodded and hurried over to the communication's console, working it with the assistance of the Khalai officer there. "This is Captain Cisleb Foyath, formerly of the Kelmton to Bajoran vessels…" Kaldalis tuned him out. There were other concerns on his mind, matters he was far more versed in than ad hoc diplomacy.
"Terosh, Rersa," he turned to his compatriots; the Tal'darim seemed to be practically vibrating with eagerness, his fingers twitching involuntarily. Rersa, by comparison, was dour, an unusual look for her. There was not a trace of her usual and even casual laxness or levity.
Terosh let out a dark chuckle. "Let me guess, you want us to prepare boarding teams? Say no more, Kaldalis. I will see it done. It will be my pleasure to put these mongrels in their place." A burst of minor annoyance took Kaldalis as Terosh turned to leave, and Rersa simply rolled her eyes, having been expecting this.
"Terosh," he kept his voice hard, and the Tal'darim at least stopped in his tracks and had the good sense to meet the Executor's eyes. "We need answers, the computer cores of those vessels must be taken intact, and any crew that may be taken alive could prove to be valuable assets. Pertinent to that, Gul Thrurhias is a priority target. He is to be taken alive, no excuses. Corpses get us nothing. Rersa will assist in his capture; I know she will at least ensure he is brought here alive." Terosh simply chuckled again, bordering on a proper laugh, and somehow darker still.
"I know to spare the ones with the fanciest dresses, and any who drop their weapons and grovel." He ignited a bane blade above one arm and raised it to near eye level as maleficent Void energies crackled along the other. "Do not worry yourself, Kaldalis. I will be gentle with each and every one of them. I promise."