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18

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"Councilors." Jorus C'baoth's voice boomed throughout the relatively small Federation Council chambers. "I am honored to stand before you today, both as a representative of the Galactic Republic, and as the administrator of the Outbound Flight project."

He glanced around the chamber at the assembled councilors, who could not have numbered more than three or four dozen. That was about the typical size of a Senate sub-committee.

"I believe we have much to offer each other. I have been in negotiations with Admiral Nakamura of Starfleet Command and his diplomatic team for the past two weeks, and we have come to several agreements that I hope you will accept."

There were several nods from the gathered councilors and quiet murmuring. After a few long moments of silence, C'baoth continued.

"As you may already know, Outbound Flight was a groundbreaking exploration and colonization mission. It has already succeeded beyond our wildest expectations. We discovered not only intelligent life in this galaxy, but human life. We may infer that our past history is therefore more closely related than any of us had anticipated.

He took a deep breath. "At the moment, we have several pressing concerns. The first is that there are ten thousand Republic colonists aboard Outbound Flight with nowhere to go. I understand that a vote will be held next week on the revised grant agreement to allow us the use of one of your former colony worlds.

"The second relates to your current predicament. We have already established that Outbound Flight will only be able to provide limited assistance, due to the need to protect our colonists. Your diplomats have told me they intend to seek a mutual defense treaty with the Republic. I do not believe that is a good idea."

The quiet chamber suddenly erupted into argument as a number of councilors stood up and tried to shout questions and accusations. The President slammed his gavel down several times until the chamber became quiet again.

"The councilor from Vulcan has the floor," he said a moment later.

"Master C'baoth," the Vulcan intoned, "you appear to be a rational being and I am sure you meant no insult by your statement. However, I believe my colleagues would appreciate an explanation. Finally, if a mutual defense treaty will not work, then what would you recommend we do instead?"

C'baoth nodded in assent. "A mutual defense treaty is not feasible due to the scale of the Republic. Our galaxy has been unified for over a thousand generations. While there may be petty disputes over territory from time to time, we have no outside threats that would require aid. For that reason alone, I find it unlikely that such a treaty would get the majority vote needed to pass the Senate."

"Then what option do we have?" a blue-skinned Andorian asked. "Also, if your galaxy is so used to the status quo, how was your Outbound Flight mission approved?"

"First," C'baoth replied, "Outbound Flight was my own idea. We have looked inward far too long, unaware of the universe around us. I believed it was time to change that, and I had the support of the Chancellor of the Republic. Despite his support, I do not believe the rest of the galaxy will be so quick to accept change.

"Second, it may be possible to simply purchase the ships and technology you need. However, you may run afoul of ancient export regulations such as the one prohibiting us from simply giving you hyperdrive technology. I am not sure if there is an easy way to resolve that situation, which leads me to my final suggestion."

"And what might that be?" the Andorian interjected.

C'baoth let out a quiet chuckle. "Patience, my blue friend. I would suggest that you apply for admittance to the Republic."

"And give up our freedom?" one of the human councilors objected. "You can't be serious."

"While that is always a risk," C'baoth stated forcefully, "the legislation of the Republic is primarily written to enforce equality and minimum standards of life across the galaxy. There are a plethora of sector governments that are independently governed, much like your Federation."

"But we would still be subservient to the Republic," the man retorted.

"Would you prefer to be subservient to the Dominion?" C'baoth asked. When no response came, he continued. "The Senate grants the sector governments a great deal of autonomy. To do anything else would be foolish as no single governing body could directly manage an entire galaxy."

"I believe you have adequately explained the downsides," the Vulcan said, "but what would we stand to gain from joining your Republic?"

"You would gain several seats in the Senate and a say in galactic politics. As a Republic sector, the Federation would also fall under the protection of the Senate Judicial Corps. You would also have unrestricted trade with the rest of the galaxy."

"What sort of protection would we get?" the Andorian asked.

"The Judicial Corps," C'baoth explained, "includes both the Republic Navy and the Jedi Order. Jedi are sent to mediate and dissolve small conflicts and disputes, to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. If a situation is outside the capabilities of the Jedi, and cannot be dealt with by sector fleet command, then the Republic Navy is deployed."

"So if we joined, the Senate would have to send the Navy to help?" the human councilor asked hopefully.

"No." After several quizzical looks from the councilors, he continued. "The autonomy comes at a price. The recommended course of action for your situation would be to immediately enter discussions with our defense contractors, who would provide you with ships, weapons and financing. Navy veterans would then come to train your Starfleet crews."

"That is a logical course of action," the Vulcan concluded. "However, any such agreement would be a major change for the Federation. Do you have a copy of the laws of the Republic for us to look over?"

C'baoth held up a datapad. "I have already loaded this with a copy of the Republic Charter, as well as the majority of our legal code. I will warn you however that the legal code is long and convoluted. Our return mission is scheduled to depart in two weeks, so you need to make your decision before then."

"If that is what is necessary, then we will do so," the Vulcan replied, holding his hand up in a split-V. "Master C'baoth, thank you for your time. May you live long and prosper."

. . .

There were always going to be times, Commander Rowin reflected, when hindsight made a very close approximation of a Gamorrean sow. Right now was one of them. Captain Yates' decision to go in diplomatically had come around to bite them all in the collective hindquarters. They'd had a chance to see how strong a Kazon ship was in combat, when the odds were one to one. Now he was surrounded by the damned things and they had next to no idea how strong their weapons were. Or defenses, for that matter.

He sighed quietly and turned toward the Comm-Scan station. "Open a channel to Maje Culluh's ship."

"Yes, Sir."

Moments later, the First Maje's wrinkled face appeared in the middle of the bridge on the holoscreen. "So," Culluh gloated, "you have realized that you cannot escape."

"Yes," Rowin said with the best poker face he could manage. "You have out-maneuvered us. What are your terms?"

Culluh snorted. "First, you will surrender Maje Zerin to me unharmed. Second, you will disable all security measures on your ship. We will transport your crew to the planet below and then we will sweep your ship. If we find any... surprises... there will be harsh consequences."

Rowin swallowed and nodded. "Of course, Maje."

"Good." Culluh seemed genuinely happy with himself, Rowin noted. "Power your systems down and prepare for our arrival."

As the holo disappeared, one of the senior lieutenants looked at Rowin with a slightly disapproving frown. "Sir... we're not really going to surrender, are we?"

Rowin shook his head. "Of course not. I'm just trying to buy some time. Helm, put the engines into hot standby, make it look like we're powering down and surrendering. Cut the reactor output to fifty percent as well but keep it ready to go to full power. Tac-Ops, shields to standby. Gunnery, what's the status of the main turbolaser batteries?"

"In standby, Sir."

"Good." He turned back to Comm-Scan. "Open the channel back up."

When Culluh's face appeared, Rowin bowed slightly in mock deferment. "We have powered down as you requested, First Maje."

Culluh glanced off-screen for a moment. "Excellent."

The holo vanished again and Rowin allowed a slight smile to cross his face.

"Commander, the Kazon are launching transports," one of the Comm-Scan techs reported barely a minute later.

Rowin nodded. "Evacuate all personnel from the hangar and have E-Web crews set up choke points at the entrances. Gunnery, prepare firing solutions for the Kazon flagship. Tac-Ops, prepare to raise the shields."

"Yes, Captain."

"ETA thirty seconds on the transports," the Comm-Scan tech read out.

Rowin calmly watched the icons representing the transports steadily draw nearer. "Execute on my mark," he instructed them as he waited for the most opportune moment to present itself.

. . .

From his seat in the lead assault craft's cockpit, First Maje Culluh silently watched the alien ship grow larger in the distance.

He was already convinced that they had been lying to him about the so-called Galactic Republic. It had to be a cover story for the Federation. From what he'd read in Voyager's computer databanks, the humans of the Federation had only been in space for perhaps three times as long as the Kazon. They hadn't even had warp travel for the first hundred or so years of that! That made the idea of a galactic government even more ludicrous. No, they had to be lying; he was completely certain of that.

Then again, their ship didn't have warp drive, which made it possible that it was from those first hundred years of pre-warp travel. But if that was the case, and they had somehow managed to cross the galaxy in two hundred years without warp drive, how was it that they knew of Voyager?

He leaned back in his seat, contemplating the questions on his mind, before glancing up to see the hangar bay looming in front of them like a gaping mouth. By the standards of his own ship, it was not terribly large, but it was certainly larger than the cramped joke that Voyager called its shuttlebay. His pilot expertly aligned the shuttle with one side of the hangar and guided it in, landing it so that its ramp was pointing toward a wall for cover. Then Culluh stood up and, after they had checked the air outside the shuttle, the pilot unsealed the hatch and he stepped onto the hangar deck flanked by two of his best troops.

There was definitely a metallic tang in the air that had been absent on Voyager; it was the smell of machinery being worked on. But Culluh could not see any crew in the hangar. They spread out and marched forward, keeping an eye out for possible traps. All they saw, however, were abandoned equipment carts parked next to several oddly shaped craft. One of them, hanging close to the ground on an overhead gantry, looked like a ball suspended between two flat panels. Culluh wasn't sure what it was supposed to be, but if the ball was a cockpit, then it could only hold one person. What was the use of that?

The next craft they passed was much larger, similar to the assault shuttle he had flown in on. This one had wings of some sort that extended upward like the petals of a strange metallic flower. Culluh paid it little attention, instead looking around for any signs of danger.

Finally, at one end of the hangar they came to the exit, a wide black door of some sort that silently split in half and slid aside as they approached. Culluh motioned for two of his guards to stay behind in the hangar near the doors, and then the rest of them continued forward.

One of the other things he noted as they kept walking down the wide hallway (it was, he guessed, enough for eight or ten to walk side by side) was that the floors in this ship were all polished metal, whereas the floors on Voyager had been covered in some kind of fuzzy textile. It definitely lent the ship a much more essential, military feel compared to Voyager.

"Halt!" a harsh, metallic voice shouted in perfect Kazon as they rounded another corner of the hallway, coming to face a barricade that was positioned about ten meters down the hallway. All Culluh could see was the large muzzle of a weapon poking ominously over the heavy barricade. "You are trespassing on Imperial property. Surrender your weapons immediately."

Culluh ducked back around the corner out of range of the weapon and grabbed his earpiece, but all he was greeted by was static. Jamming? he wondered as he tried to contact his flagship. Nobody answered.

"Who is the fastest runner?" he asked, turning around to face the group.

"I am, First Maje," one of them replied.

"Go back to the shuttle and bring reinforcements. Try to contact the flagship."

The runner obediently turned and dashed toward the hallway. Culluh then turned to face the rest, pointing at the two nearest troops.

"You two will charge the position while we provide covering fire. Take your positions and wait for my command." Half of the squad knelt or stood next to the corner with their rifles drawn while the other two stood back in a runner's stance, waiting to go. "Charge!" he exclaimed. As the two began sprinting, he and the rest of his troops aimed their weapons down the corridor and began firing on auto at the barricade.

For a moment, Culluh thought the fire would keep the humans from responding. Then the cannon at the barricade roared to life, rapidly spitting out a hail of powerful red bolts that literally cut the two unfortunate troops in half as it walked its sights down the corridor. Culluh ducked back in time to avoid being hit, but he could feel the searing heat of the bolts as they passed. Several of his other troops were not as lucky; a rifle exploded in one guard's hand, and another trooper's head turned into a smoking crater in spite of the helmet he wore. The infernal weapon continued firing for several more seconds, tearing chunks out of the wall before it finally stopped.

"I repeat, surrender your weapons and you will not be harmed," the same mechanical voice intoned.

Maje Culluh looked at the troops around him. They all shook their heads, and he turned as the messenger he had sent came running back up behind him. "Why have you returned without reinforcements?" he asked.

"My apologies, First Maje," the Kazon said, panting, "but we are sealed in by a bulkhead of unusual strength. Our disruptors do not even scratch its surface."

"Then beyond that barricade lies our only way out," Culluh said. "Lieutenant, set up a smoke screen to cover our advance."

The lieutenant unclipped a canister from his belt, pulled out a pin, and then hurled it down the hallway. There was a burst of fire from the gun, but he narrowly avoided being hit. Then they heard the distinct pop and hiss of the canister exploding. "Go," Culluh ordered.

Three troops charged out this time, as Culluh and the rest shot blindly in the general direction of the barricade. Then the high-pitched staccato of the gun began again, and Culluh's stomach sank as one of the unfortunate troops screamed in agony.

"This is your last chance, Kazon. Throw your weapons down and come out with your hands up."

Culluh looked at the surviving troops and frowned. "Conceal your sidearms. We may be able to approach close enough to overpower them if they think we are surrendering."

They all quickly stuffed their pistols into various parts of their clothing, then threw their rifles around the corner and walked out slowly, hands outstretched.

"Move forward, slowly," the voice ordered. "Keep your hands up."

The ten meters to the barricade took an agonizing amount of time to cover, but finally, several white-clad, almost skeletal looking figures stepped out from behind the barricade. Each one was holding a very practical carbine-sized gun.

"Halt."

Culluh looked around at the other troops. The gun was very close now, and perhaps they could duck out of its firing arc... He could see that the others were evidently thinking the same thing.

"Turn around. Keep your hands in the air."

The Maje did as the voice said, and waited. Then he felt something grab one of his arms and he suddenly spun, pulling his would-be captor's arm down as he wrenched his hand free. There was a flurry of movement around him as the other troops reacted likewise. He ducked and ran toward the barricade, pulling out his concealed pistol as he did-

-and the last thing he would remember seeing was another dozen or so of the white-armored troops standing behind it, guns drawn and ready. Blue light flashed toward him, he felt the tingling sensation of electricity, and then the lights went out.