Rants and Denial

"Any luck?" Tendi asked quietly.

"No," Rutherford whispered back in disappointment. Both of them were sitting on the floor of the detention area. Stevens lay inside one of the other containment circles out cold. "My implant still can't find the exact frequency of the Dominion force field emitters. And I can't try modifying it to transmit a disruption pulse or interference signal without tools."

"Is there anything in the medkit we could use?" Tendi suggested. "You could pretend to be sick or I could ask the guards for permission to check on Commander Stevens."

"I doubt it," Rutherford shook his head. "Not unless it's equipped with an optronic coupler or a gravitic caliper…" He trailed off as the door to the detention area opened.

"Oh my gosh," Tendi paled as Lipura'klan and two other Jem'Hadar entered dragging a limp, heavily-beaten Mariner. "Mariner, are you okay?"

"Come on. Is that all you got?" Mariner mumbled incoherently as the Jem'Hadar deactivated one of the force fields and unceremoniously dropped her into the same containment circle as Stevens. "My grandma hits harder than that."

"What did you do to her?" Rutherford gasped in horror.

"The same we would have done to you had she not taken your place," Lipura'klan informed him. "She fought well, lasting longer than I expected."

"Went four rounds," Mariner slurred spitting out a mouthful of blood. "Won the first two before the chief Spinehead put in their ringers."

"Fifth Torak'ator was declared winner of the third match, but you insisted on fighting one more," Lipura'klan gazed dispassionately at Mariner's sprawled form. "Your performance was informative. We must analyze your use of Starfleet's latest fighting styles. Until next time."

"Wait! You have to let me treat her!" Tendi pleaded. "She could be suffering from internal bleeding or have trauma-induced brain damage!"

"No worries about that last one, T," Mariner coughed. "I'm pretty sure my brain got knocked outta my head after that last haymaker. Be a good little medic and wash it off before popping the ol' alcohol-deprived organ back in."

"Very well," Lipura'klan lowered the other force field and indicated one of his men to hand Tendi the medkit.

"Thank you," Tendi quickly grabbed it and moved to Mariner's side. "Stay still. Try not to talk."

"For once that sounds like a good idea," Mariner blinked dazedly as Lipura'klan reactivated the force fields before leaving with two of his men. "So, what did I miss?"

"Not much," Rutherford sighed. "Tendi and I have just been sitting here worrying about you and Boimler who still hasn't returned. He's been gone for almost two hours."

"That's nice…wait, what?!" Mariner yelped and struggled to sit up. "Oh man! Don't worry, Boims! I'll save ya!"

"Mariner, stop!" Tendi held her down while frantically loading a hypospray. "You have three broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, multiple contusions and a bruised kidney. Lie down before you bleed out or fall into a coma!"

"Ugh, fine," Mariner groaned too weak to fight back. "But hurry with the medical magic. You gotta patch me up so we can save Boims. There's no telling what unspeakable horrors and torments these Dominion bone-busters are submitting him to right now!"

"I tell you, there is nothing more boring than being the lone supervisor of a group of Jem'Hadar over a prolonged period of time," Valiawen grumbled leaning against the desk. "Don't get me wrong. I enjoy stability and order as much as the next Vorta, but having to endure this much unbroken monotony is enough to drive any intelligent, sentient lifeform insane!"

"Uh huh," Boimler replied still secured to the chair. Valiawen had made a thorough check of his ears for blockages and subdermal communicators before starting on her rant.

"The Jem'Hadar don't even like to play games!" Valiawen threw up her hands. "Unless you count conducting battle drills, having weapons practice or running training exercises. They won't even play that silly kotra game most Cardassians seem to like so much. I would kill to play a game like that, but the remains of the main computer don't have any recreational games on file."

"I see," Boimler felt his eyes glaze over.

"So, you can guess where that leaves me," Valiawen went on ignorant of Boimler's growing obliviousness. "Making the same rounds, checking the same systems, reading the same outdated war reports I've read a million times already. It is so frustrating! I can't even expand my knowledge of engineering principles or advanced computer systems. You would think a supply depot operating relatively close to the front lines would have at least one technical or scientific manual lying around someplace."

"Huh?" Boimler blinked snapping out of his daze. "Supply depot?"

"That's correct," Valiawen confirmed absently. "This is Supply Depot Two Seven Six. It was built and designed as a secret weapons, equipment and ketracel-white depot hidden within what you call the Tibor nebula."

"Huh, that explains why Starfleet never discovered it," Boimler remarked finally showing some interest. "Our shuttlecraft didn't detect this depot either with it having been built among a network of kelbonite-laced lava tubes at the base of an extinct volcano."

"The depot is capable of storing enough white, weapons and equipment to supply thousands of Jem'Hadar stationed aboard an entire fleet of Dominion ships for two or three months," Valiawen went on. "Granted, the depot's white stores weren't at full capacity when we lost all communications, but they've been more than enough for our needs these past few years. Sometimes I think that's all the Jem'Hadar see me as; a living ketracel-white allocator. We've never been under attack so there are no combat reports to fill out. All I do is sit around and dispense white nine vials at a time, ten times a cycle."

"There are ninety Jem'Hadar on this planet?" Boimler blanched in horror.

"Ninety-three Alpha Jem'Hadar to be exact," Valiawen corrected. "The original garrison was two hundred forty-three, but over half were lost when the sudden Level Eight earthquake hit which destroyed the depot's command center along with our communication systems, transporters, sensors, air recyclers and lone hangar bay."

"You survived an earthquake while underground?" Boimler gasped.

"Barely," Valiawen distantly looked off to the side. "I was in the Jem'Hadar's third barracks block issuing their regular allocation of white when the earthquake hit. Most of the ceiling caved in burying me and eight-one soldiers of the Dominion. Only thirty-six of us managed to eventually dig ourselves out."

"My gosh," Boimler turned pale.

"I was the only Vorta to survive. All the others were killed when the command center collapsed or died later due to their various injuries," Valiawen said softly. "But I and the remaining Jem'Hadar were fortunate. The depot's other barracks blocks, fusion reactors and storage bays were undamaged. Most importantly so were most of our supplies of white and equipment."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Boimler said quietly. "That must have been incredibly tough. Uh, are you sure you're supposed to be sharing this information with me?"

"Technically I suppose not, but like I said I've missed engaging in intelligent conversation," Valiawen shrugged. "And it's very nice to be able to rant to someone about my troubles."

"I know the feeling," Boimler sympathized.

"Anyway, we salvaged what we could, built new passageways to the surface and managed to construct a basic encrypted communication beacon," Valiawen finished her tale. "But the resulting signal is so weak it barely penetrates the planet's atmosphere. We have been on our own here ever since, suffering the occasional loss due to rockslides, accidents, fire storms, other sudden lower-level earthquakes, etc."

"So the Dominion just abandoned you all here?" Boimler winced. "Ouch, that's harsh."

"We were not abandoned," Valiawen asserted fervently. "The Founders would never do that. The Dominion will contact us eventually. It is only a matter of time."

"Well, maybe," Boimler coughed while shaking his head in amazement. "Either way, it's still quite a story. I can't imagine what it must have been like surviving this long cut off from the rest of the galaxy after losing nearly two-thirds of the men under your command."

"Actually, I was not the original commander of the depot," Valiawen admitted somewhat uncomfortably. "In fact, I was the lowest ranking Vorta stationed here. My duties mostly consisted of white allocation and keeping supply manifests up to date."

"Huh, so you were basically a member of the Dominion version of Lower Decks," Boimler realized. "Just like me."

"Lower Decks," Valiawen rolled the unfamiliar term around her mouth. "What a quaint designation. What exactly does a member of Starfleet's 'Lower Decks' like you do?"

"Oh, you know. A lot of stuff," Boimler shrugged. "Repair things, run errands, do grunt work and the like. And of course, filling out lots of paperwork which Starfleet and the rest of the known bureaucratic universe runs on."

"Really? Sounds tedious," Valiawen commented. "Personally, I find cataloging inventory and maintaining multiple requisition records quite confusing, despite the Founders blessing the Vorta with our natural proclivity for administrative duties. I'm sure you've felt the same at some point."

"Na, it's just a matter of staying organized and recordkeeping and scheduling around all the various stardates and…" Boimler blinked trailing off for a moment. "Wait a minute. What was the stardate when your communication systems were destroyed?"

"I'm afraid I am a bit out of practice familiarizing myself with the Federation calendar system," Valiawen consulted her padd. "Just a moment…ah, there we are. It was around stardate 52862, more or less."

"52862," Boimler muttered recalling his History lessons. "That was about the time the Dominion withdrew from Federation, Klingon and Romulan space to a compact defensive perimeter near the end of the war. You must have missed receiving the order to evacuate and fall back." His eyes widened in realization. "Of course! The Dominion must have presumed this depot had been either destroyed or discovered by Starfleet. That's why they never came back for you!"

"Impossible," Valiawen scoffed. "An order like that would have confirmed delivery by having the Vorta on duty issue a receipt. If no receipt was sent the ships we had been supplying would have investigated our lack of communication, detected the survivors and evacuated us."

"Not if a receipt had been sent immediately before the earthquake hit," Boimler pressed expanding his theory. "Before the Vorta on duty could announce an evacuation or warn everyone about the earthquake."

"No, that could never happen," Valiawen insisted. "Such a string of events is highly improbable."

"But not impossible," Boimler pointed out. "You have to admit the evidence fits."

"No it doesn't because your so-called 'evidence' is weak and circumstantial at best," Valiawen declared. "And even if it were true, it would not change the fact that the Dominion is still at war with the Federation since the Dominion has never and will never lose a war."

"But it did lose the war. Everyone in the Alpha, Gamma and a good part of the Beta quadrant knows that," Boimler said understandingly. "You said so yourself you've been here isolated and alone for five years without any contact with the outside galaxy. Isn't it possible everything I and my fellow crewmates have told you is true?"

"No. It's not. It can't," Valiawen stated with her voice tinged with just the slightly bit of uncertainty. "The Dominion will prevail. The Founders have declared it so. They will come for us. They must!"

"The Dominion isn't coming. They don't even know you're alive," Boimler regarded her with sympathy. "But our ship will be back in a few days. When they get here I'll explain the whole situation and our captain will find a way to return you all back to Dominion space in the Gamma Quadrant…"

"No. That will not happen," Valiawen began to pace around turning even paler than usual. "I will not surrender to the Federation as a prisoner of war. Not after enduring all this. I will trigger my termination implant before betraying the Founders and the Dominion."

"You won't be taken prisoner and you won't be betraying anyone," Boimler attempted to reason with her. "You and your men have gone way beyond the call of duty, serving long after the war you were sent to fight has ended. You've served the Dominion…the Founders honorably and faithfully. It's time for you all to go home."

"I don't think so," Valiawen stared at Boimler cautiously. "You claim the war is over. Do you have proof of this?"

"Well, not with me," Boimler admitted. "But my friends will all say the same thing. And there must be some mention of it in our shuttlecraft's computer…"

"Computer records can be faked," Valiawen's eyes narrowed in thought. "I think this is all a trick. An elaborate deception so Starfleet can capture more prisoners for interrogation and collect a treasure trove of Dominion technology for analysis."

"It's not a trick. We came here to conduct a planetary survey. We didn't even know you were here," Boimler insisted. "If we did do you really think Starfleet would send a single shuttlecraft to a secret, garrisoned Dominion supply depot crewed mostly by ensigns?"

"Yes. It's all part of the deception," Valiawen insisted. "No one would believe Starfleet would be that stupid and naïve. It's so ridiculous any reasonably intelligent person would presume your cover story would have to be true. And if we saw through your deception and killed you all it would be no great loss."

"Yes it would!" Boimler protested. "Okay, maybe not Commander Stevens…"

"I must applaud your dedicated attempts at obfuscation, but I'm afraid your efforts are for naught," Valiawen said accessing a computer terminal. "Starfleet will never control this depot. I will see to that."

"Uh, how?" Boimler asked.

"With these," Valiawen worked the terminal. The wall monitor screen activated showing half a dozen roughly cylindrical subterranean chambers each containing a tall, sleek object about the size of a runabout's warp nacelle.

"Are those…?" Boimler gasped in shock.

"Yes," Valiawen confirmed. "Six variable-range tactical missiles armed with ninety isoton warheads."

"But…but how did you…?" Boimler was stunned.

"Did you really think we've been sitting here completely idle for the past five years?" Valiawen gave him a look. "I ordered the construction of these missiles three months after communications were lost in case of discovery. They can be used against ships, planets or the depot itself as a last resort self-destruct measure. We constructed them from the surviving stores of weapons, equipment and the depot's salvaged anti-ship weapons batteries. All of the later were destroyed during the earthquake. I admit the missiles themselves are somewhat crude, but they should do the job."

"What?! Are you insane?" Boimler's eyes bulged. "What am I saying?"

"It's clear Starfleet has discovered us," Valiawen ignored Boimler while tapping at the controls. "Unfortunately, the missiles' navigation sensors are severely limited, but they should be enough to target your ship along with any others which appear in orbit."

"No!" Boimler yelled. "You can't do that!"

"Yes I can," Valiawen stated studying the screen. "And I can also launch three or four missiles to target the nearest, major strategic Federation planet. Ah, that would be Tellar. A bit on the long side, but still within acceptable striking range."

"No," Boimler blanched in horror. "You can't! You wouldn't! The missiles will fail! Starfleet will intercept and shoot them down! Oh man, I sound like a bad extra in a cheesy, third-rate holonovel!"

"Possibly," Valiawen allowed. "But the missiles have been mounted with captured Class-Five Klingon cloaking devices salvaged from destroyed ships other Dominion vessels had collected and dropped off here before we lost all communications. We had been waiting to send them back to Cardassia Prime for analysis. The cloaking devices should increase the chances of at least one of the missiles getting through. And it will signal the Dominion that we are still alive. At least for the time being."

"But the war is over! It has been for a long time!" Boimler desperately attempted to convince her. "You'd be killing thousands if not millions of innocent people for nothing!"

"The depot has been discovered and our capture is most certainly imminent," Valiawen concluded steeling herself before turning to face him. "It is our duty to inflict as much damage against the Dominion's enemies before then. Our deaths will be glory to the Founders. As will yours."

"Oh no," Boimler gulped as the full weight of the situation weighed upon him. "I knew we'd been hit with the typical Starfleet luck the second after finding out we'd landed within walking distance of an old Dominion base. Unfortunately, luck for us Lower Decks always turns out to be bad!"