The Distant and Not-So-Bright Future

by His Lordship Havoc

As if the Dominion War wasn't enough, Captain Sisko and the crew of Deep Space 9 find themselves dealing with an unusual visitor whose inhumanly deadly skills and dedication to protecting the human race just might tear the Federation apart. Written as a challengefic. Rated M for lots of violence and battle scenes, not to mention a somewhat awkward and comical attempt at romance.

4. Chapter 4

Star Trek: Deep Space 9

Disclaimer: I do not own nor did I invent Star Trek: Deep Space 9 or any of its concepts, nor do I own or did I invent Warhammer 40k or its concepts. Extant characters are used for recreational reading only and no profit. Any characters I have created are purely for interaction purposes with the universes borrowed and portrayed. Please enjoy this bit of challengefic fluff. Reviews are welcome, flames will be laughed at. Glory to the Emperor of Mankind!

---

The Distant and No-So-Bright Future, Phase IV- We Could Use A Man Like You

The runabout had the somewhat odd name of Trebia, which the computer explained to Andraeus was the name of an ancient Terran river in the Ital Peninsula. Apparently a battle had been fought there between the city state of Roma and a rival empire named the Carthage. The Carthaginian general, Hannibal, scored the first of several victories there. Reading this ancient Terran data kept Andraeus from thinking about the fact that they were about to go to warp.

"You seem ill at ease, my friend," remarked Garak, sitting in a chair across a small table from Andraeus, in the runabout's mess. "Does hyperspace travel bother you?"

Garak observed the Space Marine intently, his eyes glinting in what might have been amusement. His mind, however, indicated that he was attempting to deal with his race's latent xenophobia and his sheer intimidation at Andraeus' size by nattering at him endlessly. The Ferengi Quark had warned the Astartes this might happen.

Andraeus felt no need to confess to the spoon-headed alien that passing through the warp did indeed unsettle him. He might have felt no reservation in saying such a thing to one of the humans of this time, but clearly this Cardassian was seeking information and therefore an advantage. Though he was not a direct threat to Andraeus in the physical sense, he clearly wanted some form of leverage, even if it was only within the context of debate.

Andraeus had to admit to himself, though, that passing through the warp in this time was indeed different from his own- he could hear the noise of the warp, discordant and devoid of reason, but he could not sense the mad minds or deranged consciousness of the beings within. Were the energy screens and fields that these people possessed so effective as to keep these horrors out of real space almost entirely? The advantages over the Geller Field of his own time were incalculable if that was the case.

And yet, if this was true, then it stood to reason that these people also had never been exposed to the threat that the warp represented. As far as they were concerned, it was simply an alternate non-physical state that presented a means of faster-than-light travel. Space travel in the Imperium was a matter of bending time and space, folding it almost. Warp travel in this time or reality was much closer to the idea of faster-than-light translocation, although neither represented 'true' FTL movement, as they were both attained by use of an alternate dimension. Current scientific theory in the Federation seemed to indicate that if one somehow moved faster than the speed of light within the actual physical state, it would quite likely tear the universe apart.

"Faster-than-light travel is not without its perils in my own time," Andraeus said finally, deciding to see where the Cardassian went with any information he was given. "The screens you people use are more effective than those used in my era."

"Fascinating." Garak replied, his eyes almost shining with the delight of conversation. "Do your people not worry about what might happen if your defenses were to suddenly go down, to be left exposed to hyperspace?"

"Trust me, it is a very real concern for people who ply the space routes, for our understanding of the warp, or 'hyperspace', as you put it, is much different form your own." Andraeus said grimly. "To be exposed to the horrors of the warp is worse than death or a thousand deaths. But enough of this, why are you accompanying us on this journey, alien?"

"Let's just say that I have some contacts in the Orion Consortium who might provide us with some valuable information about Dominion traffic inside Cardassian space." Garak replied, his voice rife with intrigue.

"Fascinating," Andraeus muttered sarcastically. "Should you come across any information that concerns Terra, I might be interested."

A somewhat hesitant voice came over the intercom. "We... we are about to go into warp." Rom said from the intercom. "We should be at Heraklion IV in approximately eighteen hours."

"Splendid," Andraeus muttered to himself. "Eighteen hours with aliens."

"Oh, come now, we cannot be all that distasteful to you," Garak said in a sly voice. "Certainly Lieutenant Dax is not. Do you ever find our company to your liking?"

"That depends on if you are at the other end of my combat knife." Andraeus growled. "At that time, the company of aliens can be positively pleasurable."

Undeterred, Garak leaned forward, still smiling. "So what, if I might ask, is your plan for convincing the Syndicate to allow Quark to do business along the Trelanian Lanes again?"

"Dismantle the Syndicate on Heraklion, of course." Andraeus replied. "Remove anyone who objects and convince the survivors that it would be in their best interests to allow the Ferengi to move his goods through the system. I am sure they can be convinced to see reason."

"Even if it is at the end of your... bolt gun, I think Chief O'Brien called it." Garak mused. Andraeus shrugged. "But what, my large friend, if completing your mission requires the death of your fellow humans?"

"I've killed humans before, heretics and traitors. I find it an unpleasant necessity on occasion," the Librarian said simply. "Our commanders or the Inquisition point us in the direction of what must be eliminated and it is the job of the Astartes to be the Emperor's wrath incarnate."

"Summary judgment and execution, for the mere crime of not being born human?" queried the Cardassian. "Seems a trifle unfair, does it not?"

"The galaxy has been unfair to humanity," Andraeus said plainly. "There are no alien races that have not tried to destroy us. The Astartes were created to protect our species from a threat it could not possibly be ready for otherwise. The Imperium spans the galaxy and we are all that stands in the way of utter annihilation. I have fought enemies that no one in your galaxy has even conceived of."

"I gathered that from how well you handled the Jem'Hadar," agreed Garak, nodding. "Aside from the Borg, they are the toughest opponents the Alpha Quadrant has ever known."

"Yes, I tried fighting these Borg in the holosuites of the Ferengi's bar. If your simulations are accurate, they would prove formidable foes for your Federation."

"Oh, mark my words, Mister Andraeus, there are other races in our galaxy that are more powerful than the Ferderation, Cardassians, Klingons or Dominion," Garak chided. "The Organians, the Metrons, the beings known as the Q. But what is currently on my mind is not which of the races of our time stack up against a space marine, but something altogether different."

"Go ahead and ask, since I doubt I can dissuade you from doing so." Andraeus grunted.

Garak spoke quietly now, as if they might be overheard. "As an exalted guardian of your race, surely it falls upon you to keep secrets, especially from aliens and people not of your Imperium. So why, then, have you been so forthcoming with Captain Sisko and the others about your Imperium and your very nature?"

"Who would believe them?" replied the space marine. "Providing details, while edifying, proves nothing, and it does not matter to me if people believe me or not. In fact, it would be somewhat to my advantage if they didn't believe me, because of the confusion it would cause. The Federation's security forces would be hunting uselessly for illegal genetic engineers inside its own borders and I can move about as I please. Telling the truth is at least as confusing to them as lying."

"So it's about keeping your opponent off-balance, which Cardassians understand very well," Garak concluded, nodding his approval. "Troubling, though, that you must consider members of your own species potential foes, isn't it?"

"Maybe you should ask your Obsidian Order," Andraeus said plainly. "They could give the Inquisition some lessons in paranoia."

The cabin began to hum as they runabout entered into warpspace. Garak watched Andraeus intently as they did so, hoping to see some crack in the space marine's resolve, but was disappointed. He sighed and stood, heading towards his quarters. "And now, my friend, I bid you adieu, because the vibrations from the warp engines makes me sleepy. I will see you in a few hours."

With the talkative alien gone, Andraeus sighed. He didn't need sleep in the conventional sense, but he was looking forward to meditating and perhaps finding a way to shut the warp noise out of his head.

All he wanted to do was make it back home.

---

"Well, there it is, Heraklion." Rom said somewhat uselessly as the three stood inside the cockpit, staring out at the dusky brown planet below. "So, uh... what now?"

"These Orion pirates will not take exception to a Federation vessel simply approaching it?" Andraeus asked, scanning the vessels and platforms in orbit around the world. He had read everything he could find in the Federation data bases about the pirate haven, which provided some basic schematics of the orbital platforms and various hab centers on the surface, but not much else of immediate value.

"Oh, that's why we brought the Trebia," the Ferengi replied. "It is occasionally used by Captain Sisko for less-than-legal activities. He occasionally sidesteps Federation protocol to get something done. The pirates have seen this ship before. It might put them at ease, in fact."

"A fatal mistake for them," Andraeus said grimly. "Very well. We will need to land close to wherever the man who thinks he's kingpin of this planet so that we can get in and out as quickly as possible."

"Will there be a planet left when you are finished negotiating?" Garak asked blithely.

"I make no promises." replied the Astartes.

"In that case, allow me to accomplish my task first, since I require live people for real answers," said the Cardassian uneasily. "Maybe you can rip agreements from dead minds, but I cannot."

"As you wish."

Rom took them to land at a rather decrepit-looking orbital platform, little more than a series of landing pads and hangars around a central con. Once the Trebia was safely down, Rom took a deep breath. "Okay... now what?"

"You two go on ahead, since any scanners they have will detect you," Andraeus said. "I have not allowed myself to be scanned, so they are unaware of my presence. I wish to keep it that way for now, to keep them off-balance."

Rom sighed. "And here I agreed to come with you in order to feel safe."

"Why you would ever feel safe around me is beyond my comprehension, alien." Andraeus said dryly. "Now get going. We have work to do."

---

"Mister Garak, it's been a while," commented the craggy, scarred man who sat on an elevated chair made of rusty, grated metal in the middle of a large hangar bay that had become something of an audience hall. He was wearing a long trencher coat over an old-style Federation uniform. He wore a patch over his right eye and a Romulan disruptor rifle rested against the arm of his makeshift throne. "And Mister Rom, what a pleasant surprise. Your brother is well, I hope."

Garak nodded and spoke before Rom felt compelled to, something he wished to avoid, at least for now. "Good to see you as well, Orlan. Your accommodations are more spacious than I remember them. Moving up in the world, are we?"

The man known as Orlan smiled and shrugged. "Heraklion is only one world amongst thousands but it's mine, more or less, and how many people can say that?"

"True enough," Garak replied easily. "But this is not a social call, so pardon my brusqueness. I have come to collect on information you said you could provide in our previous communique."

Orlan nodded. "I do have information that may be valuable to Cardassian resistance, all I need is your assurance that you have the means to pay for it. No promissory notes, this is a cash business."

Garak nodded and held up a small, secured attache case. "Sixty bars of gold-pressed latinum, unmarked, by any governmental body."

At a tilt of Orlan's head, one of his thugs, a tall, scaly Naussican, trumped over to Garak and indicated he should open the case. Once he had inspected the contents, he nodded to his boss and handed over a small data board. Garak then smiled and stepped aside, leaving Rom exposed to Orlan's unimpressed glance.

"So what brings you here, Rom?" drawled the Orion pirate-lord. "Is your brother going to pay me back for all the damage his last little fiasco caused?"

"I, don't know..." Rom said somewhat uncertainly, thinking maybe there was a part of the plan Quark had failed to inform him about. "But I am here to ask if we can use the Trelanian Lanes again to move merchandise."

"Are you now?" Orlan mused, pinching his eyes. Could this Ferengi be serious?

"Yes, and since you control them, we'll need your compliance." Rom added.

"It never ceases to amaze me how stupid the Ferengi think other races are," Orlan muttered, already weary of Rom simpering, vacant face. "Here's what's going to happen... I've acquired some rather unusual Breen technology that can use simple organic matter to transmit an audio message. I'm going to have you rendered down into biomass, then send it back to your brother resonating with the sounds of your final screams before you became genetic sludge. Then he'll have my answer, won't he?"

"That... sounds unpleasant," Rom answered nervously. "But I... I am not the one you'll be negotiating with. It's him..."

Rom pointed to a spot near Orlan's throne. The pirate turned his head to see what the Ferengi was indicating and his remaining eye went wide in shock- a towering human loomed out of the darkness, glowering down at him. He was wearing absurdly baroque armour that made him even larger and more imposing. In his huge hand he carried a projectile rifle and on his belt was a sword.

"The Ferengi was correct," Andraeus boomed as everyone gaped at him. "I am the one who will be negotiating on Quark's behalf. The question that remains is whether I do so with you, or your sudden successor."

With the attention of all the pirates on the space marine, Rom slunk off to the side to hide next to Garak, who waited patiently. He sat behind the (hopefully) sturdy cargo crates and drew his knees up to his chest.

"Is it foolish to hope that Orlan sees reason and agrees?" Rom asked.

"Hope is never foolish," Garak replied, his hand resting on the holster of his phaser pistol. "I just think you're hoping for the wrong thing. As long as Orlan lives, your brother will never see trade along the Trelanian Lanes."

For all his sudden and imminent danger, Orlan seemed unfazed, or at least did a good job of looking the part. "I'd heard rumours of an unknown soldier fighting with the Jem'Hadar on Terak Nor," he said evenly, still sizing up his opponent. "But I can see they were just rumours. Even the Federation couldn't make up something as ridiculous as you look."

"I'll give you a chance, since we are both human," Andraeus warned, his voice dire, vaguaely annoyed with Quark for lying about his target possibly being a Naussican. "You will open up the Trelanian trade routes to Quark, free of tariff, or I will kill you all. I'll do you the favour of not ripping your mind apart or making you shoot yourself, you will simply die. How quickly is up to you if you make the wrong decision."

"You dare?!" the pirate snarled, surging out of his seat and pointing a trembling finger at Andraeus, outraged by the intruder's audacity. "You come to my planet, demand things and threaten me?! You're dead! You're all dead! Kill them!"

The Naussican raised his disruptor rifle to fire but the hangar echoed with a terrifying crack as Andraeus' bolter released as single round that punched a hole through his chest, sending the corpse flying backward in a spray of blood and organs. He pivoted and shot another guard from the gantry above, the body vaulting backwards and pitching over the side of the catwalk from the force of the impact.

Undeterred, Orlan slammed his hand on a button and alarms sounded, followed a split second later by red lights illuminating the room. The pirate lord dove for cover, drawing a Romulan disruptor pistol from under his long coat. Andraeus paid him little heed, striding into the center of the room and scanning for further targets. He pointed his bolt gun at a stack of cargo crates and the weapon barked loudly, the projectile punching through the container and killing the thug behind. Rom winced and covered his head.

"I wouldn't worry so much if I were you," Garak said calmly, but the wideness of his eyes and the bulge of the scaly tendons on his neck betrayed his anxiety. "I would imagine that Mister Andraeus will be commanding their attention for the next little while, so if we just stay out of his way, we'll be fine."

"Easy for you to say," Rom groused. "You don't have Ferengi ears! So loud..."

While Rom covered his ears in attempt to keep his brain from rupturing at the sound of Andraeus' bolt gun firing, the Librarian tromped boldly about, commanding the attention of his foes. More guards rushed into the room, the source of the alarm plainly obvious. Their weapons shrieked and hissed as they tried to find their mark, with Andraeus allowing some of them to score a minor hit, to see how his armour held up.

The outer layer of ceramite would sometimes sizzle and possibly melt, but the heat and molecular dissipation properties of the alloy proved marvellously resistant to the attacks. His right pauldron hissed and crackled as some directed energy weapon struck, but it held. He dispatched the shooter with a return shot, his head disappearing in a pink cloud.

A thug surged up behind him, carrying one seemed to be a Jem'Hadar polaron rifle with a bayonet attached, attempting to stab him from behind. In the blink of an eye the space marine whirled and struck the man's head from his shoulders, his force sword gleaming with a baleful, ethereal light and an ominous hum.

"Release the Gnaghn!" Orlan shouted as he ducked out of cover for a moment to fire at Andraeus. "Release the damn Gnaghn!"

From somewhere nearby, great gears and cogs began to creak and groan, slowly coming to life. A horrible, gurgling roar echoed around the hangar bay, followed by the scraping thunder of huge, clawed feet.

"That doesn't sound good..." Rom murmured warily.

"Of course it doesn't," Garak spat in irritation. "Have you never seen a Gnaghn before?"

"Uhhh, no..."

"Pray you never do, then," the Cardassian said quietly, drawing his pistol. "And let's hope our transhuman companion is ready for some hunting."

Andraeus heard the remaining pirates scampering from the room. No matter, he would find them and he would complete his mission, one way or another. The sound of slavering and breathing reverberated around the giant room, making it hard to determine the location of his new, seemingly bestial foe. He was loathe to use his psychic powers just yet, as he wished to test his mettle against whatever this animal was. He had fought and slain Tyranid monstrosities before, he would not fail against this Gnaghn-thing.

A tall pyramid of large cargo containers exploded as his enemy burst through them, charging squarely for its quarry. The huge beast had four long legs, a disturbingly wide mouth and a long, wickedly-barbed tongue. It look like some gigantic cross between a scaly toad and an ancient crocodile. It screeched as it surged toward him, the clawed toes scratching along the metal floor in a shower of sparks.

He rolled out of the way at its first headlong charge, analyzing its movement pattern. The thing was frenzied, its slitted, yellow eyes wide with what could only be described as mindless hunger. It had poor traction on the smooth metal plating that formed most of the floor, but it also proved surprisingly nimble as it leaped and grappled onto one of the titanic beams that spanned the ceiling overhead. It hissed wildly and launched itself at him again. Andraeus squeezed the trigger of his bolter, releasing a three-round burst. The mini-rocket projectiles punctured the Gnaghn's hide, one of them exiting out its other flank. It screeched in fury and came on, maddened by pain. Quicker than he had expected, it swiped at him with one claw, knocking him backwards into a pile of crates, his bolter scattering away from his hand.

He was up instantly even as it leaped across the room to land on him. He managed to twist out of the way of the huge bulk that threatened to squash him, his force sword slashing across the joint of the front left limb, severing it in a spray of black ichor. The Gnaghn wailed in agony and its ferocious jaws snapped at him. Too close to get away, Andraeus stood his ground, letting the beast bite down on his ceramite-encased forearm. The ancient armour creaked and groaned, threating to give under the relentless pressure of the crushing jaws. Its breath reeked of sulfur and its eyes were maddened with the need to kill.

Andraeus strained against the beast, pain flaring up his arm as the horrific teeth came closer and closer to the flesh within the armoured shell. Willing his arm to move, her straightened it, pushing his hand down the Gnaghn's gullet. His eyes glowed and arcs of electricity crackled down his forearm as he released the fury of the warp into his prey's body. The Gnaghn shook and spasmed as its innards were cooked, letting out a blood-curdling screech before Andraeus put it out of its misery by burying his sword between its wild eyes. The crackling, stinking husk crumpled to the floor, greasy smoke escaping from cracks in the scaly, chitinous hide.

Andraeus sighed as he withdrew his arm from the carbonized remains, examining the damage done to his armour. It was nothing he could not fix, but he would have to be careful as the mobility of this arm was now somewhat limited. No matter. He would still complete his task.

"That was entertaining," Garak commented as he emerged from hiding to walk to to Andraeus. "You certainly have a way of dealing with things that... annoy you. But your people skills might need a little work."

"Some other time," Andraeus muttered, reaching out with his mind to find Orlan. The fool had stayed on his precious planet, still refusing to concede. His chance had come and gone, now he would simply die, even if he agreed to Quark's demands. "Are you coming with me or staying here?"

"With you, I think," Garak replied. "No matter how loud it gets, wherever you are is probably the safest place on this world. And if for some reason that Gnaghn is not truly dead, I for one do not want to be around when it comes to."

"As you wish, just stay out of my way." Andraeus said plainly as he strode off in the direction he had seen Orlan flee. He kicked through a bulkhead door and began lumbering down the hallway beyond. He held his bolt gun in his hands as his mind reached out to find his quarry. Hundreds of beings were scamping around madly, trying to escape the chaos he had caused. He ignored the psychic signatures that longed only for safety and escape, focusing on those that echoed with defiance or murderous intent.

Rom covered his ears again and moaned in discomfort as Andraeus let off another quick burst down the dark corridor, firing at some target only he could see. Cries of shock and pain could be heard before deathly silence, punctuated only by the heady, metallic thump of Andraeus' boots. They passed a corridor junction where two Naussicans lay dead, one missing a leg and the other the entire left side of his torso.

"Your Imperium's weaponry is brutally efficient." Garak observed as they moved by the corpses. "What is the reasoning behind the use of archaic projectile weaponry?"

"Because there is little that my bolter cannot punch through," Andraeus answered while moving down the corridor. "Certainly nothing resembling personal armour in your era has proven effective against it, and even the screens of the Borg will not stop it."

"And in your own time?" Garak asked, talking to keep his mind off the danger they found themselves in. "What of the foes there?"

"A few can stand up to a dead-on bolter hit, but you don't want to know about those," Andraeus replied distractedly, feeling peril up ahead. "Things worse that that Gnaghn by a factor of ten."

"Clearly your galaxy is a dangerous place, if weapons like that rifle as a necessity," mused the Cardassian. "This must be something of a vacation for you in comparison."

"An Astartes never takes any combat lightly, because the first time you are lax, you will die."

"A good principal, one my people understand implicitly," Garak agreed. "Is this your first time fighting alongside aliens instead of killing them?"

"Temporary alliances of convenience have been necessary on occasion, although they inevitably end in betrayal by the xenos," Andraeus said darkly, stopping as they reached another corridor junction. "The Eldar are especially known for their treachery, the Tau are just... annoying, they do not want to stop talking."

"Shades of Morn," Garak quipped almost cheerfully, delighted with how forthright the space marine could be about such extemporanea. "Why have we stopped?"

"Cover your ears, Ferengi." Andraeus muttered, tapping something on his belt that dispensed three small objects into his hand. Without another word, he flung the micro-grenades down the intersecting hall and seconds later the complex shook with three jarring blasts, followed by the sound of screeching, collapsing metal and cries of terror.

"Grenades?" remarked Garak. "Positively barbaric, even the Klingons don't use those anymore."

"Perhaps they should consider it," Andraeus replied. "Let us go, the collapsed section of corridor will soon be exposed to the vacuum on the planet's surface."

The quickly sprinted across the junction and through a bulkhead door, which Andraeus strained against and forced it closed, his colossal strength augmented by the myoelectric muscles of his power armour. The seal hissed as it shut, protecting them from the vacuum as it howled through the exposed corridor.

"That was close," Rom said, clearly not enjoying himself and wondering if his brother had tricked him into the more dangerous option. "Are we going to need to do that again?"

"We?" Andraeus replied, looking down at Rom in disdain. "Step back through the door and you won't have to worry about it again, alien."

Klaxons continued to sound as the base mobilized against the threat. Orders were being shouted over intercoms, indicating the confusion that reigned. Many clearly thought they were under attack from orbit while other voices shouted about a Dominion raid on the facility. Andraeus didn't care. He wanted this pirate station out of the way so that the Ferengi Quark could do as he pleased and keep his end of the bargain.

"You've certainly got them riled, Mister Andraeus," Garak mentioned, looking around as they hurried down the hall. "This will get uglier still."

"I was hoping you would say that," the space marine grunted. "If this gets accomplished too easily, Quark might decide it was not worth his while and renege on our deal. Then I'll have to squash his head."

"Oh, brother wouldn't like that," Rom said unnecessarily, as if it bore articulating. "He's quite attached to his head."

They were approaching another hangar bay, this one full of dozens of presences. They felt tense but unusually confident as Andraeus reached out and touched their minds.

"Auto-turrets." he muttered as he slipped on his helmet, activating the sensor suite within. The screens over the eyes lit up, displaying data and filtering out extraneous signatures to focus on the ones he desired- there were upwards of sixty foes waiting inside and the electrical grid revealed least four automated defense units positioned in the corners of the hangar bay to cover the entrances.

"Did you two bring any weapons worth mentioning?" he asked. "You might be on your own for a few minutes."

Garak nodded and held up his Cardassian disruptor pistol while Rom sheepishly displayed his mini-phaser pistol. Andraeus shrugged, remembering that it was probably imperative to keep these aliens safe for the duration of his mission, even if he personally didn't care whether they lived or died.

Normally he would have preferred them dead. This reality seemed to be having an unpleasant effect on his if he was displaying mere apathy about the demise of a xenos. He would deal with that later, for now, there were enemies to kill.

"I'm going in," he stated plainly. "Once I have their attention, find a safe place away from the auto-turrets and shoot at anything presenting a threat to you."

"Okay," Rom said, nodding nervously. "We have your back."

"I was afraid you would say that..." snorted the Librarian as he sprinted into the room, his bolt gun roaring to life while arcs of lightning lanced from his fingers. One of the autoguns trained on him, firing a phaser beam at him. The nadion-charged ray creased the armour of his thigh, leaving a sizzling groove in the ceramite. Clearly the autoguns were more powerful than standard-issue Federation hand weapons. The defense system screeched and juddered as his mind-fires enveloped it, causing the gun to explode seconds later.

Phaser and other energy fire trained on him now and he dodged and jinked about the open space of the cargo bay floor, allowing Quark and Rom to dash for a corner of the room protected by freight boxes and out of the sight of both fires and auto-turrets. Rom breathed heavily, trying to calm himself.

"This is fun..." he murmured, massaging his phaser nervously. "Should we attempt to help the hu-man or will we only get in his way?"

"I've no intention of letting our Mister Andraeus steal all the glory yet again." Garak declared, leaning around the corner and firing at one of the thugs he could see from their position. He may not have been a genetically enhanced space marine, but he had been a member of the Obsidian Order, amongst the most elite warriors in all Cardassia. He nodded as his target dropped, a hole square in the center of his chest.

Rom took a deep breath and followed Garak's example, firing wildly as he looked for targets. He ducked back quickly as a disruptor bolt missed his ear by millimeters.

While he could not detect the annoying Ferengi's mind, Andraeus was reasonably certain that he would not stray far from Garak, so he could keep tabs on both of them. He fired at some crates, hearing screams as the bolt shells punched through and struck whoever was hiding behind them. The breech of his bolter locked open, the magazine expended. He didn't bother to reload, instead sprinting forward and leaping to grapple onto the girders and beams that supported the gantry above. Garak watched in astonishment as Andraeus scampered up the metal frames with unreal agility, something he would have considered impossible, even if the space marine hadn't been wearing his power armour.

Andraeus vaulted over onto the metal walkway and advanced on two thugs who had been firing at him from the elevated position. They backed up in fright, still firing with their phaser rifles. He thrust his hand froward, throwing up a psychic shield that dissipated the beams easily before lunging forward, his power sword beheading one while he backhanded the other right off the walkway. The man screamed as he fell to his death, his body striking a pile of crates and crumpling awkwardly to the floor.

Another auto-turret trained on him and he dodged as the lethal beam hissed by his face. He destroyed it with a bolt of pure force, lancing from his outstretched hand. The wreckage of the phaser turret plummeted to the floor far below, landing near Rom and causing him to yelp and scramble away in a panic.

He ejected the magazine from his bolter and snapped another clip into place, the weapon roaring to life as he sprayed death over the far side of the hangar bay, killing several men who had come to reinforce those already under siege. Their bodies shuddered and broke as the bolt shells struck them, flinging them back against the walls or blowing limbs clean off. Blood slicked the floor and the meat of shredded bodies plastered just about every surface nearby. Several thugs shrieked in terror and fled, unable to deal with the brutality of the death that awaited them.

Others, those made of sterner stuff, continued to rush into the room, determined to overrun the intruder with sheer numbers, but Andraeus was undeterred. He leaped over the side of the suspended walkway, plummeting down and landing with a thunderous crash. His knees flexed as he impacted, the sheer force knocking several men away. He rose, glaring menacingly as he opened fire again, his bolter shells chewing holes in the tender flesh of these virtually unprotected foes. Some wore light flak armour or ballistic nylon vests, but they were no match for the inertia that propelled the mini-rockets in his weapon forward.

Orlan was still nearby, his resolve being slowly eaten away for confusion and panic as his unstoppable foe kept on coming. Andraeus could feel the man's desperation, such a contrast to his reckless and arrogant confidence mere minutes before. If a Federation fleet had shown up at Heraklion, he would have been better prepared for that than he was for this.

Andraeus let him be for now, wondering if he would change his mind and relent. It ultimately didn't matter, he was merely curious about the humans of this time and reality. He was at once hoping that Orlan would show common sense and agree to Andraeus' terms, but he also had to admit he might be disappointed if Orlan capitulated and did not remain defiant. The humanity of this era, timeline or reality, whatever it was, seemed both foolishly tolerant and compromising, as well as resilient and spirited. Their convictions were strong, even if he considered them misguided.

He swung backwards, his mighty, gauntleted fist crushing the ribcage of a foe coming up behind him, sending the man hurtling across the open space, skidding to a stop on the opposite end of the room in a heap. A blue-skinned alien fired at Andraeus with a phaser rifle as he rushed across the space between two stacks of crates. His boltgun thundered and the alien's body blew apart, with one of the rounds continuing on to bury itself in the wall.

There was a loud shout and three surly Klingons rushed into the room, firing at him with their disruptor pistols in one hand and melee weapons in the other. His studies of the Federation data banks aboard Deep Spice Nine had informed him the large weapon one of them carried was called a bat'leth and the two smaller weapons were combat knives called a mek'leth, forged from some alloy called 'bakkonite'. Unlike his earlier confrontation with Klingons, these aliens seemed quite sober and moved with a wary ferocity.

Their attack was also coordinated. The two Klingons with the smaller knives darted left and right, firing with their disruptor pistols to keep him pinned while the largest one with the bat'leth rushed right in to challenge him physically. He felt the energy pulses cracking against his armour, sizzling and dispersing against the ceramite. He could feel the flush of heat against his skin as a topmost layer melted.

The warrior was fast and his curved blade slashed down in a savage arc at Andraeus' head. But the warrior snarled in anger and shock when the bat'leth snapped clean in half as it encountered the edge of his enemy's force sword. Andraeus glowered as he then thrust the point forward, right through his foe's chest. The Klingon stiffened and fell to his knees, coughing gouts of blackening blood. Not wasting another moment, the Librarian kicked the dead alien off his blade and rounded on one of the savage foes flanking him. His eyes shone with hatred as he reached forward with his mind and caused the Klingon's organs to heat up, swell and burst within him, seconds before his whole body exploded.

He turned and parried the assault of the third Klingon, who had used the opportunity to get in close. The mek'leth held, but he was spun away from Andraeus, the sheer force behind the space marine's counter enough to throw him off balance. His disruptor pistol hit Andraeus' armour dead in the center of his chest plate but failed to penetrate. Half a second later, his head tumbled away through the air, removed from his body by a vicious swipe of a power sword.

Andraeus was about to resume his search for Orlan when a beam lanced out of a corner of the room, striking the flank of his armour and boring into it, knocking him on his back. Recovering hastily, he rolled to his feet and dodged, catching a glancing shot from the unknown weapon, which scored a deep groove in the pauldron of his right shoulder. He could feel the myoelectric muscles in his torso armour seizing up as they tried frantically to operate in spite of the melted circuitry and fused ceramite.

"The CRM114!" shouted Orlan almost maniacally, emerging from his hiding spot to continue firing at Andraeus with a bulky but clearly extremely effective handheld directed energy weapon. The amber beam screeched across the floor and bulkhead wall as he tried to avoid it, unable to get a bead on the Orion pirate while dodging.

"Not so tough now, are you?" hooted the villain, his remaining eye alight with eagerness to kill. "Breen technology, cutting edge! Guaranteed to penetrate reactive armour in the six to fifteen centimeter range and force fields up to four point six gigajoules! This thing'll cut even through rodinium! Let's see your fancy lobster shell stand up to that!"

The beam came closer, searing through the cargo crates he had dodged behind like a hot knife through butter. He couldn't get a mental bead on Orlan at this point, some device was interfering with his ability to read or touch minds. He reached over one of the crates, releasing a quick burst without looking but hoping to convince the foe to stop shooting for a moment and take cover.

His grenades were too dangerous here. A storage container of thermal explosive was perilously close to Orlan, enough to blast the entire hangar bar and most of the surrounding base into orbit. And whatever that weapon was, it was strong enough to penetrate ceramite, at least with a concerted hit. Whoever the Breen were, they'd earned his enmity.

"Nice to know there are some weapons in this place to actually provide a challenge for me!" Andraeus snarled as he rolled away from the beam. "But it will not save you, Orlan!"

"You shouldn't be fighting so hard!" called back the pirate. "We could use a man like you! You're a helluva warrior and there's a lot of money to be made for someone with your skills!"

"Maybe I will consider that, once your moon is mine and your blood runs down my blade." Andraeus growled, his eyes glowing as he used his mind to shove the crates Orlan was hiding behind violently, smashing them into his foe and crushing him against the wall behind. Orlan wailed in pain as the storage containers, each of which must have weighed at least two tons, pressed in slowly, threatening to turn his organs to jelly. The CRM114 scattered away form his hand.

"P-please..." he gasped, as his lungs began to fill with blood. "Don't... don't k-k-k... urgh!"

"Give me one reason to let you live," Andraeus said ominously as he strode up to where Orlan was pinned, shuddering and struggling to escape. "Whoever replaces you can agree to my terms and will probably prove more pliant on the point."

"I... I have power..." Orlan wheezed before crying out suddenly as something inside his midsection burst. "I can give you... anything..."

"Why did you not simply acquiesce the first time I made my demand?" said the space marine coldly, pointing the muzzle of his bolter at Orlan's head. In spite of his agony, the pirate squeezed his eyes shut and trembled in fear.

Andraeus' world spun as something crashed into him from behind, bearing him to the deck as a gurgling screech of primordial fury filled the room. Terrible claws bit into his pauldrons, threatening to pierce through and tear his shoulders from his torso. Caustic, stinking saliva dripped onto him, burning his skin.

Orlan cackled through his pain, his eyes wild with the delirium of blood loss and hate. "The... Gnaghn... tougher... than you... thought... both dead now..."

Andraeus tried to rise but a taloned claw smashed his head back to the floor, so hard that even his implants could not prevent the vertigo he felt. The reeking breath of the Gnaghn was hot on his neck. He could hear the jaws gnashing just above his head, the thing's great weight pinning him down.

There was a hissing shriek of pressurized, superheated air and then the Gnaghn pitched off of Andraeus, thrashing madly as the particle beam pierced its skull and seared what was left of its brain. The corpse of the thing shuddered and writhed as the final impulses left its body.

Orlan, who was still twitching hatefully before going limp, groaned in despair as he was robbed of his revenge, his eyes glazing over. Andraus then turned and saw Garak standing not far away, holding Orlan's mysterious weapon, examining it in satisfaction.

"Say what you will about the Breen, they do know a thing or two about killing," the Cardassian mused, turning the beam weapon over in his hands. "If, for some reason, your Imperium invaded our time, perhaps we might have a chance to defend ourselves."

"Why did you save me, alien?" Andraeus asked, trying to flex and rotate his arm. The self-repair systems in his armour were starting to slowly restore some mobility to the damaged areas. There were great strakes and grooves in the ceramite where the Gnaghn's claws or the beam weapon had struck him.

"Call me a sap, Mister Andraeus, maybe even a fool, but I do not wish to see you perish," Garak replied, smiling archly. "You remain our best chance of getting off this forsaken rock alive, even if you required some assistance from mere mortals. I fear, though, that I should have mentioned sooner the Gnaghn's ability to regenerate unless its brain is destroyed. Hideous creatures, really."

"You... have my gratitude," the space marine said, his voice grim. "We are all committed to this mission's success. With Orlan, the apparent leader of this rat's nest dead, we must now find his successor."

"Or... nominate him." Rom suggested timidly.

"My colleague has a point," Garak observed. "Assuming that you have 'demoted' most of Heraklion's current command structure permanently in your little rampage, it might behoove us to find some survivor's and guarantee them their lives if they'll comply with our wishes."

"Agreed," Andraeus declared, closing his eyes and concentrating. Several hundred presences remained on the surface, the vast majority of which were reticent to fight or get involved in whatever was happening. "I have located the closest survivors to us and spoken into their minds. They know we wish to negotiate."

"A dear happiness, I assure you. But if it's all the same to you, I think I will just hold on to this." Garak said, patting the CRM114 he still held.

---

Quark wriggled through the access tunnel, muttering in discontent. He didn't think he was getting bigger, so Star Fleet had to be making these accessways smaller, just to annoy him. Then again, he had been eating more groat cakes recently and they were not good for his waistline. He grunted as he forced his way down the passage, a satchel with a bulky item strapped to his back.

It had taken considerable effort to fabricate a minor but complicated security issue to distract Odo with while he went about the rather unsafe task of acquiring the dilithium crystals that Andraeus required. Very few things would have convinced Quark that the risk of crossing Odo or the Federation for a controlled substance like dilithium was worth it, but more than anything he wanted the space marine off Deep Space Nine and back in his own time. Andraeus terrified him.

It occurred to him that the imposing human might simply have messed with everyone's heads until they agreed to get the dilithium for him and even help him with whatever weird temporal experiment he had in mind, but he had chosen to forgo this option in favour of enlisting Quark's help. Given his seemingly genetic dislike for aliens, there was something more to Andraeus' reasoning that one might imagine.

Normally he would have convinced Rom to do the crawling and creeping around for a venture such as this, but his normally dim-witted brother had probably taken the wiser option and chosen to go with Andraeus. As heavily defended as Heraklion was, Quark couldn't imagine it standing up to the space marine and the sheer hell he could obviously unleash on an unsuspecting planetoid.

Why hadn't Andraeus simply convinced Odo and the various security teams to give him the dilithium? He had, apparently, already demonstrated the ability to manipulate the minds of the changelings, as he had done with the Founder saboteur that had been aboard the station already. How much harder could it have been to convince Deep Space Nine's Chief Constable and a few altruistic Federation officers?

Quark then realized that Andraeus was genuinely trying to keep his word to Sisko, to not make trouble for him. If dilithium went missing, the Federation would want to know why. If they tried to hide it or alter records, someone would wise up eventually and investigations and court-martials begun. It wouldn't matter that Andraeus had tampered with the minds of the crew, someone would need to be held accountable. That's how the Federation worked, by the book.

He'd checked the data base logs, noting that Andraeus spent almost all his time not devoted to combat training to reading entries on Earth and its people, something that was so far in his past that it must have seemed mythological to him. He'd even managed to secure some video feed of Andraeus at a monitor and he could not help but notice that there seemed to be a glitter of whimsy in the genetic war-machine's eyes.

Could Andraeus, who came from a galaxy so horrifying and dystopian that it boggled the mind, have been rapt or enchanted by what the Federation represented? Billions of free humans, living happy lives to do with as they saw fit, free of brutal dictatorship and not burdened by endless alien threats that wished to see them exterminated utterly?

It certainly put the war against the Dominion into some new perspective for Quark. Andraeus was seemingly not that bothered by it. Dax had let it slip that the space marine had allowed Captain Sisko to see inside his mind, the future he had come from and the foes he fought constantly to keep humanity safe. Quark knew he was resistant to Andraeus' psychic powers but a part of him almost wished he could have seen what Sisko witnessed, to know what kind of enemies made the Borg, Dominion and Jem'Hadar seem so trivial in comparison.

Between Andraeus' enhanced physiology and his terrifying mental powers, it seemed entirely possible that he could, under the right conditions, alter the entire course of the war and allow the Alpha Quadrant to defeat the Dominion. While this might have been a boon, in the short term, it would not prove so for long- the Romulans, Cardassians and Klingons could never allow such a being to exist, certainly not unchallenged. They could not guarantee who he would be used against next and their natural paranoia and suspicion of the Federation would lead to yet another war.

Sooner or later, Andraeus would be killed, and if he were not, the other races of the galaxy would be expunged. There could ultimately be no other outcome from his continued presence in this time. Quark was certain Andraeus knew this and that was why he had agreed to help the human- he belonged back in his own time, where he was just another space marine, or Librarian or whatever he was, a simple pawn in a galactic war that consumed planets and countless billions of lives without mercy.

Quark breathed deep and realized he'd stopped moving, overcome by the immensity of the implications he was pondering. He wiped the sweat from his brow, convincing himself it was due to his close confines and wriggled on, determined to complete his part of the bargain, because he held no doubt Andraeus would. Nothing could stop that man, barring a miracle or just dumb luck.

He grunted as he twisted around a juncture and into another access way, which sloped down on a mild gradient, heading towards the station's central core. The dilithium crystals were held in a secure vault, with tritanium bulkheads and even rodinium plating, to keep out unauthorized personnel. The Federation took the security of its dilithium supply very seriously, since the misuse of the substance could be catastrophic.

He was approaching the first of several security checkpoints he needed to bypass; he pulled out a small modulator and stuck it against a panel before activating it- the light on the device blinked from amber to green, indicating it had bypassed the security protocol and allowing him to continue on. He still felt nervous as he passed the sensors, but no alarms went off, so he proceeded as quickly as he could.

Two security checkpoints later, he found himself at a hatch that required one more bypass before he could enter the restricted area that held his prize. This hatch was on a different security frequency, separate from the one he had routed the other bypasses along. Those had been filtered into the security data stream which was already occupied by his fake security issue. The bypasses would run into the data of the reports as gibberish, 'proof' of the security flaw. Relatively harmless, certainly routine, but enough to occupy the ever-vilgilant Odo and keep him off Quark's back for a few minutes. Garak had provided him with the bypass programmers, Obsidian Order devices that synched very well with Terak-Nor's operating systems, even if Federation codes were currently used.

Just to make sure Odo did not become suspicious, he was wearing a small signal scrambler that would help to mask his signature to the sensors while a fake signature device indicated that he was enjoying himself in one of his holosuites, specifically his favourite program involving the torrential rains and endless swamps of Ferenginar. Odo would think Quark was sufficiently occupied.

He took a deep breath, committing himself to this final step. If things went wrong now and he was caught, he would be lucky to spend the next year in a Federation holding cell. More likely, he would be ignominiously expelled from the Federation and sent back to the Ferengi homeworld in disgrace, never able to work for a profit again. And this was a fate worse than death for any Ferengi worth his latinum.

Then again, it was preferable to having his head squashed like a Rutarian grape by the space marine, which is what would happen if he backed out now. So be it.

He pressed the bypass device to the hatch and pressed in the code required and scrunched up his already pinched face, waiting to hear the alarms sound. Instead, he breathed a deep sigh of relief as the tiny light went green, indicating success. He took a moment to compose himself and pulled out a small tricorder, scanning the interior of the vault for life signs. Nothing. The security team that patrolled these secured rooms was obviously in another location at the moment. He had to be quick.

He pushed the hatch open, crawling out into the dim chamber. The room was circular, lined with reinforced boxes. Quark knew that only the most important items and materials were kept down here, for from the general populace of Deep Space 9- stockpiles of photon and quantum torpedoes, phaser capacitors for the defensive pylons, units of ablative armour for the Defiant and the dilithium he was here for.

He scurried between the crates, containers and boxes, using a small light to search for his objective. Thankfully he found it quickly, a largish, bulky briefcase lined with what he could only assume was neutronium. With some effort, he picked up the briefcase, replacing it with a decoy he had brought with him, of similar size and shape (though not made of anything as absurd as neutronium), hoping this would keep the naive Federation off his back for a while.

Back into the hatch he went, closing it behind him and beginning the long, tedious ascent and return to the accessways back at the public levels of the station. He still needed to be careful, if for no other reason than he did not want to run into anyone. That would instantly alert Odo as to what was going on and then the jig was up. He wished he could shroud like the Jem'Hadar. Now that was a useful biological trait.

He moved as fast as he dared, but it still took more than an hour, perilously close to the amount of time he had alloted himself before the 'security issue' would be dealt with and the sensors would be back to normal. He shuffled along, sweat streaming from his brow as he struggled to reach the safety of his bar and the holosuites. He reached a vertical shaft and scrambled quickly up the ladder. Knowing he was nearly safe. He eased into another accessway and crawled along until he was over the holosuite his fake signature indicated that he was in. He opened the hatch and dropped in, dropping down and collapsing onto his back, deep in the simulated muck of his homeworld. Sulfurous, stinking rain beat down on him as he panted in sheer relief, the anxiety and tension bleeding out of him. He kept a death grip on the briefcase and laughed to himself, elated that he had accomplished the task.

"Thank the Exchequer," he mumbled to himself, content to not move for a while. "I wonder how Rom's doing..."

---

"I was hoping they'd be a little more agreeable than that..." Rom whined as he stood next to Garak in the middle of the carnage. Corpses littered the cargo bay, even more than had been present from the first battle. Both bore minor wounds from the rather impromptu engagement but were alive. Andraeus strode up to them, his bolter in one hand and the weird, archaic sword in the other. His armour was spattered with gore and vitae, as was his grim face. He seemed unperturbed by the sheer slaughter that surrounded them.

"Perhaps a bit of a rest before you seek out the next and hopefully more compliant group?" Garak asked somewhat sarcastically of the space marine. "Seemingly your powers of persuasion are not always equal to your more... physical abilities?"

"Continue to annoy me and you'll find out quickly, Cardassian," Andraeus muttered. "As for resting, Ultramarines were not made to rest; we go on, unflinching, unstoppable, unending in our strength. The Emperor did not make us for such mortal concerns as hearth and home, vanity or contemplation; we are his engines of war, his hammers, beating out the fabric of existence into a vessel fit for Mankind to inhabit."

"Charming notion," Garak replied dryly. "So no dedication to such ephemera or delights as painting, botany or tailoring?"

"Do I look like a Blood Angel to you?" Andraeus asked archly.

"Uhhhh... no?" Rom replied uncertainly.

"Regardless, this engagement will send an even stronger message," Andraeus continued, turning and heading down one of the hallways. "We're going to track down another group somewhere on this moon and impress upon them the need to take over for Orlan and in exchange meet our demands."

"Everyone this moon is going to be dead by the time we find someone will to work with his winning personality." Garak whispered to Rom, causing the Ferengi to snicker.

"I heard that." Andraeus said ominously as he moved on, determined to find a pirate up to the task of running Heraklion for him. It briefly occurred to him how easily he could have taken over the pirate haven and become a regional warlord, feared by everyone in the sector. But why stop there? With his powers, it would be simple enough to seize control of the Federation, and from the the Alpha Quadrant, subjugating all the alien races to humanity's will, if he did not exterminate them outright. And if the Alpha Quadrant could be secured, why not the galaxy?

He shook his head, wondering what in the Emperor's name he was thinking. Was his intellection flawed? Where had that completely aberrant notion come from? He was bred as an engine of war, there was no place in his psyche for such vanity! What was wrong with him?

Maybe nothing. Had any space marine ever been in his position before? Catapulted out of time and space, possibly reality and surrounded by conditions only the Emperor himself might remember? The ambition he had just contemplated, was it heresy? Where his superiors ever tempted? Had Guilliman and the other Primarchs ever been tested so?

Of course they had. The Horus Heresy proved it.

The Astartes were not bred to be perfect, mindless war machines. That was what the Jem'Hadar of this era were, organic weapons incapable of independent thought beyond their engineering. Space Marines were still human. True, they were the greatest humans to ever live, gifted by the Emperor beyond the means of others, but they kept deep within them the simple flaws and foibles that plagued the rest of their species. They Astartes were just better equipped to deal with it.

If they failed the test, however, they were far more dangerous than any normal human. The Alpha Quadrant could easily burn if Andraeus ever gave in to ambition, if he ever took the easy way out and chose to remain here.

"Couldn't... couldn't you have just disarmed them all instead of killing them?" Rom asked as he followed the imposing Librarian.

"What would have that proved?" Andraeus answered. "They fired first, even after hearing my offer. Do you really think that these Trelanian Lanes would have remained safe for your brother's purpose if they were so weak-willed? No, it is better that we have thinned out the herd somewhat. To be honest, I was hoping that the one named Orlan would have seen reason, he seemed the best choice thus far."

"Hu-mans," Rom muttered, mostly to himself. "There's no understanding them."

"Try being a psychic of the species." Andraeus replied absently, stopping at a hallway junction and looking around, deciding what way to proceed. He chose one quickly and moved on. Not too far ahead, fifty presences await, primed for a fight. He was hoping that whoever survived it might want to be a pirate lord...

---

"You seem pleased with yourself," Dax commented as she settled down onto a stool at the bar in Quark's establishment. "Anything you want to tell me?"

"Just happy to have your large friend not in my bar," Quark said airily. It wasn't a lie, it just wasn't a direct truth in relation to her question either. "He can be bad for business."

Dax smiled slyly and leaned forward. "Quark, don't try that with me, I've played Tongo with you way too many times to not know when you're keeping something close to your chest. If it were as simple as Andraeus not being in the bar, you'd be vigorously polishing anywhere he'd sat recently, trying to get the psychic residue off the furniture, just in case it was putting off your other customers. I'm not an idiot."

"And you see conspiracies around every corner and in every alien's eyes," Quark retorted, determined to not play this game of cat and mouse with her. "Too much time with Garak?"

"I haven't lived for over four hundred years without being naturally suspicious of anything unusual," she pointed out. "Andraeus, Rom and Garak are all gone somewhere and you expect me to believe you're not involved? C'mon, Quark, even Divulians could see it, and if they were any dumber they'd have to be watered twice a week. Now 'fess up already. You're ready to burst."

Quark sighed. "They've gone to Heraklion IV," he admitted. "Garak has a contact that can provide information about Dominion forces in the Alpha Quadrant and your space marine went with Rom to help convince Orlan to open up the Trelanian Lanes to my business again."

"Fair enough to use him as an ace up your sleeve, or a sledge-hammer for that matter, but why did he agree at all?" Dax queried. "I'd say it's fairly obvious he doesn't really care about the well-being of aliens, let alone their business ventures. What's the angle?"

Quark shrugged. "I loaned Garak the latinum he needed to purchase the information. Getting Andraeus to go along for that reason would have been easy enough."

"True," Dax mused, knowing that if the information might save human lives then Andraeus could very well see it as his business. "But why are the Trelanian Lanes part of the equation?"

"Well, Orlan wasn't very likely to agree under any circumstances, so he or his sudden successor will no doubt need persuading." Quark reasoned. "Straightening out the pirates on Heraklion will be beneficial to the Federation, which no doubt appeals to your boyfriend, not to mention he gets a little target practice and a mild workout."

"Boyfriend?" Major Kira quipped as she strolled up and sat next to Dax, smirking at Quark. "Sounds like somebody's jealous."

"I'm not jealous, I'm just-" Quark now reigned in his indignation and took a breath. "I just get nervous when my friends and associates spend too much time around dangerous elements."

"Ironic, coming from one of the sector's most notorious smugglers." Dax said cheerfully. "Quark was just about to tell me how he convinced our space marine to go to Heraklion and see to what I considered distasteful alien business rather than just hu-man affairs."

Kira giggled at Dax's imitation of Quark's pronunciation of 'human' before looking at Quark pointedly. "So, what's the secret, Quark? What aspect of your ever-so-charming personality did you use to win him over?"

Quark grunted in irritation and turned away to attend to another customer. Kira shook her head and turned to Dax. "So, what do you think our mysterious guest is up to?"

Dax shrugged. "Let's be honest, we only know or remember what he chooses to let us a this point. I think he's a little more forthright with the Captain that he is with the rest of us, if for no other reason than they share a racial similarity. I've settled for just being the alien that gives him conflicting urges and feelings."

"Yes, how is everything going on that front?" Kira queried, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Last time we talked, you said things weren't... fitting or matching up the way you would like, and then the Captain just said the other night he saw you coming out of the holosuites looking very pleased and even satisfied. Did you two find a way to overcome the physical difficulties you encountered?"

"Not per se," Dax admitted, blushing. "But he can use his psychic powers to manipulate my pleasure centers and the result are... very satisfactory. Let's just leave it at that."

"Fair enough," Kira replied, shrugging. "But what about him? Is there anything you... do in return for him?"

Dax made a wry face and rubbed at her jaw, as if it hurt. "Er... no."

When Kira had finally stopped giggling, she took a deep breath and composed herself. She clasped her friend's hands and smiled. "Are you going to be okay when he finally leaves us?"

Dax pondered the question and then nodded. "I'll be fine, unless he somehow mind-slaves me or something, and he doesn't seem the type. He doesn't belong here and he's too dangerous to keep around. I'm just enjoying his company and then it'll be business as usual."

Kira was silent for a few moments before finally speaking. "How long do you think we could keep him?" she asked.

"What, and use him to help turn the tide against the Dominion before sending him back home?" Dax extrapolated. "Not very long, I imagine. He's so dangerous that the Founders would be forced to target him. Not to mention that the mere speculation of more beings like him would send them into fits of unsustainable production in an effort to beat us quickly. He might be happiest in the middle of a meat-grinder battle, but our casualty roster would be longer than ever every Friday morning."

"I admit I didn't expect you to be that objective about your new friend." Kira confessed.

Dax nodded. "Trust me, I have no illusions about what Andraeus represents, Nerys. Even if I were human and not 'an alien', I would hope I'd have the common sense to see it. He is a weapon of war, created for a type of war we have never seen in our time. Khan Noonien Singh didn't represent the kind of menace our space marine does, and Andraeus is ostensibly on our side."

Kira nodded. "The Federation is in possession of the most dangerous single weapon in the Alpha Quadrant, if not the galaxy. Let's hope they are smart enough to see it for what it is and the captain gets him home."

"Still," Jadzia mused. "It would be interesting to see what kind of a statistical difference he would make to the war, at least by the numbers."

"Well we have big computers here, capable of making complex strategic calculations that even a Zakdorn would be proud of, why don't we go do that when we're off-duty tonight, just for amusement's sake?"

"I wonder if Andraeus would be any good at Stratagema..." Dax wondered aloud as they left Quark's bar together.

---

"For someone from a different time and dimension, you're certainly proving adept with our technology." Garak observed as he watched Andraeus's fingers move confidently around the control panel, locking down the security systems of the base. They had paused in another hangar bay, this one comparatively open, with few crates or containers to provide cover.

"I learn quickly," the space marine said almost absently. "That and I can read people's minds, so I know what they know if I so choose. There, the alarms have been shut off, so the Ferengi will stop whining about how loud they are. I've also isolated certain areas of the base from one another, so our foes will have a hard time reinforcing one another if they're still feeling the need to contest us."

"It's hard to imagine what could have them feeling so splenetic about our presence," said the Cardassian. "Wouldn't you agree, Rom?"

"No, not really," Rom said somewhat petulantly. "They hate our space marine."

Andraeus grunted in what might have been amusement at Rom's retort before looking around the control room they were now in. "We will stay here and see if anyone will come to negotiate."

"Is there anyone left to negotiate with?" grumbled the Ferengi.

"There are still six hundred and forty one people in this base." Andraeus stated without concern. Seconds later, one of the door slid open and a Breen rushed into the room, firing his disruptor pistol at Rom. The Ferengi screamed in terror as the beam sheared his arm before Andraeus' bolter caused the Breen's head to detonate, the ear-shattering report of the weapon echoing loudly through the room.

"Correction, my large friend," Garak stated, looking at Andraeus archly. "Six hundred and forty one presences you can detect."

"Apparently the Breen are not among them." Andraeus muttered, scowling down at the headless corpse. "Hopefully the remaining survivors will prove more sensible."

Garak gazed down at the body and sighed. "A pity, I've always wanted to know what the Breen looked like..." he said somewhat forlornly before resuming his wait.

Two more small parties entered the cargo bay, but both dashed in to attack and were dispatched quickly. They had yet to find anyone willing to negotiate. Garak suggested that it might have something to do with Andraeus' approach to diplomacy.

"The Astartes are not diplomats," replied the Librarian. "We are the Emperor's hammer, his spear-point, our only purpose is to crush the Imperium's enemies."

"Has no one ever considered a more subtle approach to warfare?"

"There are entire worlds devoted to producing diplomats, alien, the Astartes are sent in when all else has failed or cannot prevail. The job of a space marine is to make sure that the issue is never a problem for humanity again."

"Heraklion will not be much of a concern for anybody once you're finished here." Garak added.

He may not have liked it, but Andraeus had to admit, the alien had a point. He had to compel someone to come to him under threat of utter annihilation or they would never accomplish their mission. He went over to the control panel he had accessed earlier and activated the comm system, his deep voice booming throughout the base and the tiny orbital platform overhead.

"My name is Andraeus Parmenio," he declared. "I have killed your leader Orlan and his immediate entourage. I am looking to find a successor for him. I will not harm you if you come to me peaceably. If my demand for negotiations is not met within one hour, I will have the orbital station drop onto this base. It should be fairly obvious to you all by now that I have sealed off all escape routes. You have one hour to make your way to Cargo Bay Thirteen."

He then strode away from the control panel, a hint of a smile on his face.

"Uhhhh, why are you smiling?" Rom asked somewhat nervously.

"We are in Cargo Bay Thirteen," Andraeus replied, looking around. "My chapter, the Ultramarines, are descended from the Thirteenth Legion."

"You consider this an auspicious sign?" Garak suggested.

"Not at all," snorted the Astartes. "We have no use for such superstitions. I am just amused by the random chance of it."

"You space marines used to... come in entire legions?" Rom asked somewhat hesitantly.

Andraeus nodded. "At one time, the Ultramarines Legion, the Thirteenth, named well over one hundred thousand warriors. But long gone are the glory days of the Great Crusade. Our Primarch and progenitor, Roboute Guilliman, discerned that without the Emperor's guidance, no one man, even a Primarch like himself, should have command of so vast and powerful a force and saw that the legions were broken into small, more manageable armies called chapters, approximately one thousand men in strength."

"I must admit, I agree with your Primarch," Garak said. "There mere thought of a hundred thousand more men like yourself in a single army is... discomfiting to me."

"As it should be." Andraeus grunted.

"You can't really drop the orbital station on us, can you?" Rom squeaked, hating to hear himself ask.

"Do not vex yourself, Ferengi," replied the space marine, his eyes glinting in amusement. "If I do rip the station from orbit and it crashes into this base in a fiery holocaust that might crack the planet in half, have no fear, I'll survive."

"Thanks, I was worried about that..." Rom muttered darkly.

---

Quark was talking with Doctor Bashir and Chief O'Brien inside his bar. The doctor couldn't help but notice that Quark was in such a state of perturbation that he was actually drinking a starduster, a Ferengi beverage of some potency. Bashir leaned in, his voice tinged with concern.

"Why so down in the mouth, Quark? You haven't looked this disconsolate since you found your Dabo girl Anora had been skimming from the tables beneath your nose. You worried about your brother?" he asked as he took a sip of his Aldebaran brandy.

"Why would I be worried for him?" groused the proprietor. "He's probably safer than any of us right now, unless there happens to be a Gnaghn on that base."

"Wouldn't put it past 'em," O'Brien grunted as he set down his Fanalian toddy. Quark was right, they were quite good for his cough. "Ever since the Klingons agreed to stop huntin' 'em, there's apparently been a brisk Gnaghn trade with the Dominion to help train the Jem'Hadar."

"I'm reasonably certain our oversized friend can handle a simple Gnaghn," Bashir said soothingly, glossing over the Chief's unhelpful musings. "So if it's not about Rom, then what is wrong?"

"Dax, of course," Quark almost spat, his eyes flashing with irritation. "She's all over that hu-man every time he gets near her. What can she possibly find so appealing about that... that..."

"Muscular, square-jawed killing machine who saved us all?" Bashir teased, smirking now. "Yes, I must agree, I fail to see what the attraction could possibly be..."

"Spoken like a hu-man," Quark grumbled, resting his chin on his hand and slurping at his starduster. "You think it is impossible for a beautiful woman to fall in love with anyone other than one of your species."

"I have to admit, if I were a woman and had to choose between a transhuman warrior or a big-eared troll, I'd probably make the same decision." O'Brien added. "But c'mon, Quark, it's not like she just started rebuffing you once Andraeus got here, that's a pattern that goes back at least five years now."

"Thank you for noticing," Quark replied dryly. "Don't you worry that she will be heartbroken when he inevitably leaves us?"

"You don't sound too heartbroken about that possibility." Bashir pointed out.

"I'm not," Quark declared, refilling their beverages and forgetting to charge them, he was so aggravated. "But I worry about Jadzia. I would think you'd be worried too, doctor."

"Oh, I think Jadzia knows what she's doing," Julian said, smiling wistfully. "And yes, maybe I wish she knew what she was doing with me, but this is not the case. Ergo, I will not lose any sleep over it. Not to mention the fact that his time aboard our humble station has proven fascinating. While I cannot replicate his physiognomy or implants, it has certainly opened up avenues of esoteric research for me, at least on a casual level."

"Same here," O'Brien added. "I'm lookin' into replicatin' his bolt gun, albeit on a smaller scale and seein' if I can keep its stoppin' power intact. As that warship plating he wears called ceramite... the possibilities with that are endless."

"I'm glad you're both enjoying his celebrity status while he's here," growled the Ferengi, gripping his cup tightly. "I, for one, cannot wait for his departure. I am sure Major Kira agrees with me."

"Here's your chance to find out." O'Brien remarked, draining his drink and then standing from his stool. "Here she comes. Thanks for the free round, Quark."

Quark blinked as the engineer and doctor exited the bar, realizing that he had indeed, forgotten to charge them for the second drink. He hissed in exasperation and flumped back down in his seat, rubbing at his prominent brow.

"Well, I must admit, I expected to find you in a more positive frame of mind." Kira said as she sat down, beaming a smile at Quark. "Your brother says that their mission was accomplished, the Trelanian Lanes are now open to you and everyone survived. If you stand to make so much money now, why the cloudy expression?"

"If it's all the same to you, Major, I'd rather not go through this again." Quark sighed.

"Oh, are you feelings hurt because of how much time Dax is spending with a hu-man?" she teased, squeezing the back of his hand. "I admit, I'm happy for her."

"How can you be?" Quark exclaimed, barely controlling the volume of his outburst. "I thought you of all people would agree with me on this! That space marine is a menace and has got to go!"

Kira shrugged. "Quark, he wants to get out of here more than anybody, although I'll never understand why, based on what the captain's told us about Andraeus' time. Jadzia knows he will be leaving, she's just enjoying herself. What's the harm?"

"I would think just about any alien on this space station would understand the harm by now," he explained, glowering at the thought of Andraeus. "Has it occurred to you that he would have happily exterminated all of us by now, if it weren't for the captain?"

Kira smiled. "I doubt think we can be certain of that."

"Sure we can!" Quark hissed. "He's said as much! Were it within his power, every non-human aboard this ship would have been dead days ago! Major, he was engineered to destroy aliens, to protect his species at all costs!

The major faltered, somewhat taken aback by Quark's vehemence. "You seem unusually angry about this, Quark."

"Do I?" he shot back. "Can you be so certain? How do you know it's not your reactions that are being dulled by that space marine? The only alien brains on board the station he cannot affect are Ferengi, so we know he's not tampering with my head. But he can see inside yours and make you think whatever he wants!"

While she was aware that such a thing was possible, she hadn't really considered it to be likely. She knew Andraeus had influenced the human security troops during the battle against the Jem'Hadar, that much was obvious. But to subvert the minds of everyone on the station? To what end?

"What Quark is saying makes sense, but there's still something that's not ringing true about it," she thought. "If Andraeus were that interested in destroying the non-humans aboard this station, he could have done so by now and made everyone else forget or even take part in the slaughter..."

"But Quark is right, it's what he was created to do. All aliens are considered a threat simply because they are aliens, no exceptions made. The ends justify the means. Where have I heard that before?"

"Major, are you alright?" Quark asked, leaning in. "I haven't seen a look like that on your face since, well, since you first got here."

Kira spun out of the chair and walked away from the bar briskly, trying not to scream in anger. Who could she turn to? Who would she confide in?

---

"I understand that your unsanctioned excursion to Heraklion produced some beneficial results," Sisko mentioned as he sat behind the desk in his office, his fingers steepled. He looked at Andraeus levelly. "Garak obtained the information we needed and apparently Quark can move his 'merchandise' through the Trelanian Lanes again."

"The Ferengi should be happy with the arrangement I put in place for him." Andraeus said, standing on the other side of the table, no longer in his power armour but simply in a standard unisuit. His scars were already healing and little more than aches remained of his injuries. "It matters little to me about his happiness or prosperity, but if completing the mission is predicated on this notion, I'll ignore it."

"I understand from Garak that the man who considered himself the master of Heraklion, a certain Orlan, needed to be... replaced." Sisko mentioned. "Which brings me to my next question for you, Mister Andraeus. What was it you needed from Quark so badly that you were willing to risk life and limb to do this favour for him?"

"Are you sure, you want to know, Captain?"

"Well that depends," Sisko replied softly, still looking at Andraeus. "Whatever it is, will is cause my crew and I any undue difficulties?"

"Not immediately and nothing you cannot correct later," Andraeus said simply. "It is, however, decidedly necessary for me to return home."

"I guess I'll have to take your word for it, hoping that you still have your species' best interests at heart. Do you intend to begin right away?"

"To be honest, captain, I do not have all the technical knowledge necessary to do this on my own," the space marine confessed. "I might require some assistance from some of your specialists, such as Chief O'Brien and Liutenant Dax."

"Well, I somehow doubt she will object to spending time in your company and assisting you." Sisko said, trying not to smirk. "Assuming I do not need them for any urgent issues, then they will be at your disposal. But please, keep me appraised of your progress."

Andraeus bowed his head. With any luck, it wouldn't be long now before he was back where he belonged...

---

Author's Notes: My apologies, folks, this is going to sound really dumb, but.. I would have SWORN I published this chapter a few months ago. Turns out I didn't and it was only when I received a review just the other day bemoaning the fact that I haven't updated in thirteen months that I realized my error.

So here we go. This was a somewhat tricky chapter to write, since there were technicalities about why Andraeus didn't just get the dilithium for himself that needed to be carefully addressed. I needed to make his promise to Sisko nearly an oath to justify this somewhat unusual behaviour in an otherwise practical Astartes. Fortunately, an Ultramarine's word is his bond.

New job, making mad bank and it's eating up a lot of my daylight hours. For all that, though, still dedicated to seeing this story through. The next chapter should be fun to write, and I hope you all enjoy it too.

Keep your stick on the ice!

Management

---

Epilogue: Chief O'Brien nodded in satisfaction to himself as he held the somewhat clumsy weapon in his hands, feeling the unusual weight and appreciating what strength it must have taken to hold a full-sized version. He had copied the Space Marine's boltgun, hopefully successfully, although them ammunition was only 9mm, as opposed to the absurdly large rounds Andraeus' weapon used.

He had managed to replicate some of the smaller pieces to emulate the rather complicated piezo-electric ignition chamber used to fire the round and also activate the delayed-fuse rocket propellant that actually gave the round its stopping power. The exhaust port in the side of the ersatz weapon would hopefully prevent a heat and back-pressure buildup. He didn't want to know what would happen if he didn't vent it properly.

In the reinforced combat training room, he stood alone, staring down at the human-sized target some twenty meters away. He raised the weapon and packed the makeshift weapon stock into the meat of his should, like his grandfather had taught him when he was young and learning to shoot. He leaned forward and took careful aim.

The thunderous report of the room echoed throughout the room and into the hallway beyond. The target at the end of the shooting range exploded into countless pieces. The hissing weapon clattered to the floor, its single round expended.

From his place plastered against the rear wall, knocked back five meters by the recoil of his new toy, O'Brien waited for his eyes to stop spinning and grinned as he noticed with no small satisfaction that the target was utterly destroyed.

"Yusssss..." he murmured as he slid to the ground, into the blissful embrace of unconsciousness and a concussion Keiko and Julian were sure to not let him forget about.

~fin~