PUBLISHED ON Jul 31, 2022

Chapter 10, Part 2

CSS Pralkosh
0540 Shipboard Time

"Attention all hands, standby to repel boarders. These degenerate aliens have taken it upon themselves to defend the bajoran scum we have pursued into these unknown regions. On your honor as soldiers of Cardassia, you will defend this vessel with your lives and show these degenerate creatures your mettle!" The speakers above blared, barely audible over the furious din of disruptor fire that filled the corridors of the ship. The same announcement had been playing on loop for the last forty minutes, to little effect beyond annoyance for the desperate and outgunned troops aboard the Pralkosh.

All over the ship, communications were utter chaos. Groups of soldiers were cut off, hemmed in, surrounded by phantom enemies or relentless machines that refused to stay dead. No one was sure they'd even seen their attackers in the flesh. Or were these protoss a machine race? Even in the heat of battle and the confusion it brought, rumors were already making their way through panicked ranks as the fighting drew closer to the bridge.

"Its shield is down! Kill it! Kill it!"

"Get back! Get back! Don't let those mobile force field emitters split the group!"

"The Glinn is gone! That thing popped his skull like-"

It was impossible to ignore all the noise flooding the ship's communication channels. It was impossible to ignore the screams for help, the pleading for mercy. These things were relentless. And if the machines were the first waves, the ship was already doomed. What if their actual soldiers joined the fight? One soldier already knew the answer, and he suspected the others did as well.

'I am going to die here, we all are, there's no hope. They'll kill us all, all over some worthless bajorans,' Cuvas felt the sweat soaking through his uniform. The youngest of the Rel line and the only one to make a successful military career among his family, as far as a young trooper from what amounted to the cardassian middle class could at least, was certain he'd meet his demise. Standing outside the bridge, helping to throw up hasty barricades to stop the damned things that were even now teleporting onto the Pralkosh, he knew for certain it wouldn't matter.

He'd been lucky so far, where so many comrades and even friends had not. He had three of his five power packs recharging, and he knew they wouldn't be done in time, it was a simple impossibility. The enemy was too close, too powerful. They took repeated and increasingly high powered disruptor shots just to break their shields, even on medium settings, either one-on-one or in small groups and even then their armor was as resistant as the shields, maybe even more so. Some of the glins had even ordered the troops to switch to the highest settings their rifles allowed in the hopes of bringing the things down faster.

At that level of power, the rifles would have cored even Breen exo-armor, and was in fact grossly overpowered for the task at that setting, at least according to the technical manual for his particular model. Rel wasn't so sure he believed that anymore. Some of the others said that the highest power settings were working, but even if that was true, it was too little, too late, and those settings drained the power packs at an alarming rate.

Besides, they had to kill every machine twice over to make it stay dead. What did it matter if the highest settings were the most effective at breaching their shields and armor? Even a trooper fresh out of training knew that at the highest power setting, the life expectancy of a power pack in a firefight went from thousands of shots at a medium setting to hundreds at best. For all they knew, there were thousands of these machines aboard the enemy ships. With each machine being able to pull itself together at least once before staying dead, that effectively doubled the number of enemy combatants, and the amount of energy required to destroy them.

They'd killed at least a dozen of the mechanical monstrosities so far, and had paid a blood price far in excess of that. The severed limbs, decapitated bodies, viscera and groaning wounded were a testament to that. That the enemy's energy blades at least partly cauterized wounds was a bitter mercy. For a coherent blade of energy, the sprays of viscera were appalling. Even if he somehow survived, Rel was not sure he'd ever feel clean again. Although, it was certainly more merciful than the arcane firearms he'd seen so far, one poor soul had half their chest obliterated, and messily at that. Another unfortunate soul had popped like a sausage left in the oven too long. All of this just left Rel glad he was among the furthest back in the ranks.

"Here they come! Get ready!" The call to action from one of the glinns was near panicked, not that Rel could blame the man. The sounds of heavy, metallic footsteps were drawing closer. The machines would be upon them soon. 'This is it,' he thought to himself, trembling and trying not to soil his uniform. 'This is where I die.' All the same, he shouldered his rifle and waited for the first of the bone white machines to come charging down the hallway.

The moment one of them was in sight he and dozens of others opened fire, nothing was audible over the screams of disruptor fire, at first. Rel's vision had become focused on the machine he and several others had concentrated their fire upon, but over the din he heard the sound of a shield collapsing, of metal sparking and vaporizing, of the angry, almost alive roars of the murderous machines. One fell, then another, and soon two more, but the first were already picking themselves back up, reassembling from their component parts. Then the machines reached the first barricades.

Even this far back, Rel had to fight the urge to just run there and then, to step back and out of cover. It was a primal reaction; he knew that, the instinct to get away from a predator as it savaged his fellows. The machines roared, still sounding almost alive in a way that sounded dissonant and wrong. They separated limbs and heads from bodies, viscera and carbonized matter splashing the walls, the floor, the ceiling and the frontal ranks in arcs as crackling energy danced from the cruel blades of these soulless things. One unfortunate trooper's arm even landed near to Rel's barricade, the sheer force of the blow having sent it tumbling through the air.

He kept firing, his mind and body reacting without conscious thought, more driven by panic than training and proper military discipline. He felt his trigger finger aching, but it didn't quite register in his brain. His world was reduced to the hulking machines in front of him, his comrades dying to hold them off a bit longer, and the screams of machine and organic alike.

Another machine's shield flared and failed in front of him, and he drilled a beam directly into the machine's metallic skull. He wasn't sure if that meant it would stay dead. Part of him wondered if they could somehow survive outright disintegration. It would just be a fine development after all, that not even total physical annihilation was enough to keep these things down a first time.

Steadily, the fire in the front ranks dwindled, and Rel knew that meant the machines had affected a breach somewhere as he sank behind his barricade and readied himself. 'This is it, any moment now. I'm dead.' He grit his teeth, trying not to think of how his life could have turned out differently had he not undertaken his father's wishes. 'I could have been a doctor, an engineer, anything other than infantry.' Teeth grinding, he shot up from his cover, disruptor ready and finger on the trigger, a war cry in his throat.

And his ears were greeted by the most dissonant sound he'd heard since the boarding action had begun: It was cheering. The machines had been beaten back at the first line, albeit at heavy cost. Rel could see that plainly enough. They'd paid a heavy price, several dozen of their own dead or badly wounded for almost three dozen of the machines. Yet the things seemingly had retreated.

He lowered his rifle, and his mind went blank at what he was seeing. It was impossible. Surely these things couldn't have just given up like that, not after the havoc they had wrought across the rest of the ship.

Rel laughed. It was insane, but he laughed. He was alive, for at least a little while longer. Even as he laughed to himself though, he found that he could not share in the elation of his comrades. This was insane because they were alive, because they had survived. Why were they alive? The machines had been relentless, unwavering. Why suddenly stop now?

He felt a pit open in his stomach, he knew something was wrong, but he didn't know what, and no one else seemed to be sharing in this realization. He wanted to say something, to do something, but would the glinns even listen to him? If they did, would it matter at all?
As his mind whirled and his comrades celebrated, the elated cheers died in the throats of all of them, as the lights in their little holdfast failed without warning or even a futile spark. The power to the lights had been cut. They were blind. Men scrambled for flashlights, for any potential light source. Rel could feel the darkness closing in, the sense of doom drawing closer. It was nameless, he couldn't describe it in the slightest, but it was there, and it was growing. He, like many others, cast about for a threat that they could not see, that was not yet there. Confusion reigned as the glinns desperately fought to retain control.

Cuvas Rel was the first to notice, the first to cry out, the first to realize just how truly doomed they were. In the darkness, down one of the approaches to the bridge, flared to life a pair of malevolent green eyes, brimming with hate. The shape was large, and consistent with that of the machines, but Rel didn't think this was one of them, no, this was something worse. It was one of their masters, it had to be.

Time seemed to stand still as the thing raised a staff, and from one end of it emerged a scything blade of jade green energy, and then from the other end a twin blade of the same energy emerged. The thing narrowed its eyes as it slammed the tip of its weapon into the floor, the clang resounding through the halls. No one dared to move, dared to breathe. Was it waiting for something? Was this an unspoken offer of surrender? A brazen show of superiority, to show them in their final moments how little this thing feared them?

"Yield," it spoke, "and you may yet be spared, despite your crimes." The voice was disturbingly female to Rel's ears and what disturbed him more was that he could understand it even without a translator. Its words dripped with malice of a deeply personal sort, Rel had heard such a tone many times from officers who had dealt with bajorans, but it had never sounded so pure and unfettered as it did now.

"Shoot it! Shoot it!" The cry was from one of the front rankers, shrill, panicked, desperate, and more animal than sophont.

Rel hadn't recognized the voice of the trooper who cried out, and it didn't truly matter. The moment after he had done so, he and the man standing next to him had great red blades emerge from their chests with a sickening sound that was a mixture of punctured and searing meat and gurgling. Behind and looming over them, a pair of red eyes flared and somehow, Rel could see an ever deeper well of malice within them, and the fact alone such a thing was possible would have chilled his soul had it not already been thoroughly frozen. With a great upwards pull, the two unfortunate troopers were vertically bisected in a display of viscera that left several others retching and vomiting uncontrollably.

"And that is how you make a dramatic entrance, Nerazim!" The thing spat towards the green-eyed one, moments before the cardassian line erupted in a panicked fusillade. With a laugh of cruelty so pure the whole ship seemed to shudder, the red-eyed one launched itself at the nearest squad.

"Doom'ha du nala!" The green-eyed one disappeared in a cloud of darkness that seemed deeper than even that of the already blackened hall, and Rel could have sworn he heard its voice not with his ears, but deep inside his mind. Then it was suddenly ahead of the red one, and both of them were whirlwinds of destruction, easily eclipsing any of the machines he had faced so far.

Disruptor bolts splashed against shields, men screamed and choked on boiled blood as they died. And inside, Rel felt himself finally snap. He dropped his rifle, and turned and ran for the blast door to the bridge. He barely heard and processed several others joining him, although they hadn't dropped their weapons. But he couldn't outrun the shooting, the screaming, the maleficent laughter and the battle cries in a language to alien for him to understand alone. He dared to look back as he ran.

He saw one glinn speared through the chest by the green-eyed one before being bodily tossed into a nearby group of troopers. The red-eyed monster casually back handed a man who tried to go at it with a knife, and received a broken neck for his troubles as he was unceremoniously slammed into a wall. A head flew by from somewhere in the ranks and Rel had to make a conscious effort to avoid tripping on it.

The moment Rel reached the door he slammed his fists into it as hard as he could. "Let us in! Let us in! They're massacring us! Let us in! Please! Please!" He heard a panicked shout behind him, the others that had followed, adding their fire against the things that even now continued to cut through the ranks of his fellows. Rel didn't dare look back again. He doubted the extra few rifles mattered. He pleaded and shouted, his voice growing raw, his hands bloodier each time he slammed them against the reinforced alloy of the door.

Any conscious higher thought had near totally left his mind. Only the desperate, animal instinct to survive was left, even as he continued to scream as the sounds of those horrible blades drew closer. He heard those nearest to him scream, a splash of wetness that was not sweat soak into his back. Then, one of the green blades was around his throat, and he jerked for but a moment, as a firm hand, stronger than any cardassian, held him still.

The thing spoke a single word: "Yield." Rel trembled. He tried not to lose control of his bowels or bladder; he could barely see through the blood and sweat in his eyes. He stared at the blade around his throat. He had nothing left to him but his bloodied, mangled fists.

To Rel, this single, horrid moment of torment seemed to stretch out for eternity, only upset by the hum of the blade at this throat and his own broken whimpers. One thought crossed his mind, that he was a coward. He had run and lived a bit longer than those behind him. But deep inside, he knew he didn't want to die for those on the bridge. Dying for Cardassia was not worth this pain, this terror.

Slowly, haltingly, painfully he unfurled his battered fits and placed his palms against the door, hoping the creature would understand this was a sign of surrender. He felt the hand leave his shoulder as the thing gripped the back of his skull. It spoke one last time.
"It would seem not all of you are totally mindless fools. Perhaps there is hope for your benighted species yet." Then, darkness filled his vision and claimed him.

Rersa

She gently laid down the young warrior and set him out of the way as best she could. That and her having rendered him unconscious was the most mercy she could have afforded him. Perhaps she may have been able to spare some others, but a part of her harbored doubts. Between fear and fanaticism, and of course the presence of Terosh, there had been a small chance at best for a large-scale surrender so close to the bridge. Besides, she'd given them a chance before they'd panicked, she told herself.

Perhaps she was getting soft after having lived so many centuries. Or maybe she was just growing tired of killing and death, even if it was necessary. Besides, she had no way of knowing if the warrior she had just spared was complicit in any of the crimes that Cisleb had described, aside from dint of being cardassian. What were the odds, in the grander scheme of the universe, that she would spare a criminal, especially one so young?

Behind her, Terosh scoffed. "Getting sentimental over one of these things when you've already personally slaughtered so many? I will never understand you Nerazim or the Khalai, not truly I think. They were warriors. It is their lot to win or to die."

"It is also their lot to die young, more often than not…" She put her hand to the door and concentrated. "Do not mistake my mercy for weakness, Terosh. He had no weapon; he was of no threat to us. There is a line between pragmatically killing a foe and cruelty. One I would think you would understand by now." She knew he was rolling his eyes behind her back.

"Yes, and I will hold it is eternally pragmatic to kill those that abuse and use children where they stand." She could feel the anger flowing through him. It was a typical Tal'darim battle rage, for an Ascendant like him at least. It was more controlled, honed, and likely the only reason their quarry would be the sole survivor of the violence that would soon engulf this ship's bridge.

"Then be sure to stay your blades from the throat of the Gul. I can sense seven minds beyond this door, but the fear and panic they are all feeling is making it difficult to discern which is our target. I am not as versed in such matters, such as a High Templar may be. Perhaps we should wait-" Terosh grabbed her shoulder and pushed her aside. She could see his eyes blazing, and so she knew there was no pointing in arguing with him, not while he was like this.

"That will take too long. Every moment we delay we give these sniveling creatures a chance to affect some escape or perhaps destroy the ship from the bridge. Action now, words later, or perhaps we shall simply rip what we need from Thrurhias's mind. It would be simpler." Sparks and molten metal flew as Terosh's blades suddenly ripped into the door, and the alloy comprising it practically screamed in protest.

She could hear shouts of panic from the other side, even over Terosh carving open the door. Those inside knew what was coming, at least on some level. They knew they were doomed. Desperate creatures, intelligent or otherwise, were at their most dangerous when cornered, but among intelligent species, desperation could give way to self-preservation. There was still the chance some may yet live. If Terosh recognized any sign of surrender.

The door began to give way, even as the material comprising it fought the Tal'darim's weapons, the metal groaning as he carved into it. "Any moment now…" His eyes narrowed, and hers followed suit. She would have to move quickly. She did not trust that Terosh would bring Thrurhias back entirely in one piece. Given that already the fleet had struggled to heal the bajorans even with Terosh's help, it struck her as pragmatic to bring the enemy commander back as unharmed as possible.

The air around her grew still. Terosh concentrated for but a moment, and then, with a roar of fury, a wave of psionically focused kinetic force crashed against the door and the cut section that Terosh had produced. With a resounding clang it flew from its spot in the tortured door, and Rersa followed it the moment it was airborne. Cloaked in Void and shadow, she was upon those within even faster than Terosh could have hoped to react.

Three Cardassians had been crushed by the section of the door Terosh had launched, along with their command consoles. They were almost certainly dead and if not, it was perhaps more merciful to render them so once the fighting had subsided. But that was not her concern. She felt one of them hiding behind the command chair. Thrurhias. The coward. He didn't even have it in him to face his fate with some dignity. Instead he hid while his bridge officers died for him. Had she been younger, rasher, she may have separated his head from his shoulders regardless of Kaldalis's orders.

Behind her, she heard Terosh cutting into another two of the bridge crew. They didn't even have the chance to scream. That did not matter. None of it did. Seconds had passed since they'd breached the bridge, and soon she was upon the command chair. She pounced like a predator of ancient Aiur, and he screamed, even with her hand clasped firmly around his throat as her cloak of shadows fell away. She held him firmly, but took care not to crush his throat.

"Tell your warriors to surrender. The fight is over. Yield and they will be spared. You have my word, on my honor as a Dark Templar." He struggled in her grasp, trying to claw at her hand to no avail. He had strength to him, for all his former bravado, but nothing capable of breaking the grip of a protoss.

"N-Never! We are soldiers of Cardassia and-" She squeezed, choking him, but only slightly as she tightened her grip on his windpipe. It seemed he still had some bravado in him after all. A little more pressure, properly applied, and he would break. She was sure of it. So why then, was Thrurhias looking to the side with his eyes?

She looked over and there stood the sixth cardassian, a sidearm leveled at her. She'd gotten sloppy, in her focus on the Gul. That the terrified officer's weapon was unlikely to singularly breach her shields or armor was not an excuse for having missed his presence among the dead. Terosh reared around as he sensed the missing officer, having finished off the other two. He would be on the officer in a moment now, they all knew that.

"Shoot it! Shoot it, damn you!" Thrurhias's words were choked, barely audible, but even the shaking cardassian before her had plainly heard his words. He was struggling just to hold onto his personal weapon, let alone aim it even at so close a range. The terror in his eyes was plain to see. Military discipline and loyalty to his nation's military hierarchy warred with self-preservation. She sensed Terosh begin to move.

And then the officer's weapon went clattering to the floor, his hands raised in surrender, and clearly desperate.

"Terosh, bind him," she kept her voice level. Someone had to be the voice of reason here, the voice of mercy, as limited as that may have been, after so much death. He grumbled, as she knew he would, but he complied all the same. They both knew Kaldalis would never tolerate the slaying of an enemy that had surrendered. With that interruption taken care of, she turned her attention back to Thrurhias.

"Now then, Gul Thrurhias, my offer of mercy still stands. You have no pieces left to play. Your warriors die for no reason now, no gain, and no salvation. You may be a coward who hid behind them as they died, but I am giving you a chance to do something right for once in what I suspect is already a wasted life. Do the right thing." She pulled him closer to his chair, allowing him to work the controls on its arms, lessening the grip on his neck just enough for him to properly talk. He groaned quite loudly as he did so. Perhaps she had been rougher than she'd intended despite her best efforts. Still, a little discomfort for him was of no concern to her.

"This is Gul Thrurhias," his voice was raw, both from emotion and her rough treatment of his throat, "to all surviving crewmembers of the Pralkosh…you are to stand down. As of now, I am surrendering this vessel." She tightened her grip again, he'd done his part. Now hopefully a few sensible head would turn the tide.

"Your Gul speaks the truth, warriors of Cardassia," hers and Terosh's eyes widened as they heard Kaldalis's voice through the ship's internal communications system. "You have fought for your vessel valiantly, but now is the time to lay down your arms. There is no dishonor in knowing when you are beaten. I swear on my honor as an Executor of the Daelaam, no harm will come to you. Once our current charges are safe, you have my word that you will be returned to your homes in time. Let it not be said that in this new age, that the Children of Aiur are without mercy."

A/N: Here's part 2 of chapter 10. I hope it was worth the wait and that the action is satisfactory. I figured trying to maintain a frantic pace with mild quiet moments/tense moments fit best since that's what I went for in earlier action scenes, and hey, it's a boarding action. Every depiction I've read for such a thing in sci-fi can be summed up as fast, kinetic and brutal, and when it's a protoss boarding action, I figured all of those factors get jacked up a few notches.

Special thanks to Follower38 , knolden , and Kisame12794 for beta reading and helping tighten this story up as always.