The Hour of The Wolf
Chapter Three

Will sat back in his chair and studied the two strange men. They were both in matching uniforms. A tan flight suit with what looked like horizontal ribbing across the chest, over it they wore brown leather jackets with large silver buckles. Their belts had a holster for a large weapon of some kind and on the other side three gold ovals Will had no idea what they were for.

William Riker, newly field promoted captain of the Enterprise, flagship of the Starfleet and pride of the Federation listened as the Lieutenant in front of him told him what he could about his people

'The Fleet consists of two hundred and twenty ships, refugee ships Captain. We're the last survivors of the war between our people, the Twelve colonies, and our enemies, the Cylon Alliance. A war we lost.'

'What happened?' Dr Crusher asked.

Lieutenant Troy took a deep breath, obviously gathering his thoughts. 'For nearly a thousand Yahen we were involved in one war or another. Pirates, alien raiders then finally the Cylons. They're a race of machines, no conscience and no remorse. Just a cruel, calculating intelligence devoted to their own goals and needs. As my father explained it to me, a long time ago there were real Cylons, they built drones to do their bidding, but something when wrong, they rebelled and now seek to destroy all others. Until they rule the cosmos.'

Will stroked his beard and sat back. 'There's no chance of negotiation?'

That brought a bitter laugh and Will could have sworn he saw Deanna shudder from it. 'We hoped so, at one time. The war had ground to a dead lock. We had a slight advantage in technology and far better pilots. The Cylons on the other hand had almost unlimited numbers and resources. Many people felt it was only a matter of time before they overwhelmed us. Then Councillor sire Baltar came to the Council with news.'

The warrior stood up an walked around the desk, looking out of the conference room and amongst the stars. 'He claimed to have been in communication with the Cylon's imperious leader. He told us through long negotiation the Cylons had come to understand our position and agreed that further conflict was pointless. It was a lie, Baltar, the arch traitor, had betrayed us and all of humanity for the promise of dominion over his people.'

'We were tired of war Captain. we'd fought for so long and lost so much that we welcomed the news with open arms. I was just a child at the time, my mother was a reporter for Caprica's current information transmissions. We were at the Presidium, just outside the capital building. There was going to be parties in the streets, parades planed in every town across the system. Our warriors were coming home. Peace at long last. The Council had set out with the fleet to meet with the Cylon Imperious Leader and sign the accords…'

'My god.' Deanna whispered, her eyes fixed on the table. Will couldn't blame her. He could almost see what was going to happen.

Troy continued '…They ambushed the fleet with countless thousands of Raiders, we didn't know about that part then, not until after. After they had destroyed the Colonies.' He took another breath. 'I thought it was fireworks at first. Flashes lighting up the night sky for miles around. Most of the military bases were destroyed from orbit, before they had a chance to launch. Civilian targets like Caprica City were strafed with wave after wave of Raiders, so many I couldn't tell what was star and what was fighter. They first targeted fuel distribution centres, sowing chaos then they moved on to emergency services as they tried to respond. After that they began Pluton bombing our countryside and farming resources, poisoning our supplies. Only then did they start going for the spaceports, when they were full of people, panicking and desperate to escape the carnage. My mother and I saw what was happening and fled to the hills. There with a couple hundred survivors we watched our civilisation burn.'

Will tried to imagine that, even with the treat of the Borg attacking Earth he hadn't fully had time to think about the implications. The idea of his world being destroyed chilled him, but this… What had just been described was something else. The total, deliberate, and methodical destruction of, if Will was guessing correctly twelve worlds. As a man, and a starfleet officer, he knew that there shouldn't be something as simple as true evil. Differing ideals, opposed perspectives of course but unrepentant evil. No nothing like that.

At least nothing he'd heard of, until now. He watched as, shakily, Deanna stood up, 'You'll have to excuse me.' she mumbled before collapsing into Doctor Crusher in a dead faint.

'Crusher to Sickbay, medical emergency observation lounge!'

Hanson sat up straight. 'I assure you Council Member, at the time we truly believed that the Borg threat required the assistance of the Klingon Defence Forces.'

'Yet only now, long after the battle is over, do you bother to contact us to say that this threat was nothing of the kind.' The Klingon on the viewer snarled.

'As I said, it was only through the wildest stroke of luck that we were able to defeat the Cube. A lucky brake we are still investigating, as soon as I had confirmed that the Borg threat was over and that my forces were safe I contacted you.' 'To tell us that our assistance was no longer required.' He growled back. 'The Klingon empire is not some attack dog you can call to heel at the slightest whim. I warn you Admiral there are changes coming to the Empire, this insult will not be forgotten.'

Hanson tried to keep his best poker face, he'd been involved in politics for a long time and knew how to play. Thing with Klingon politics was not to give them the slightest leeway. 'There was no insult Council Member. As I said…'

'The wildest stroke of luck.' he quoted back. 'I'd be very interested in just what this stroke of luck was, Admiral.'

'We are investigating as I speak Council Member. Of course we will share all pertinent information with yourself and the rest of the High Council.'

The Klingon growled and spat out a curse the universal translator was programmed to ignore. 'We will decide what is pertinent human!' He bellowed. 'I will expect a full report to me, alone, within the day.'

'Understood, Council Member Duras.' Hanson backed down from what was obviously a trap.

'Be sure you do. Qapla'!' He replied and cut transmission. For a few moments Hanson sat there and glared at the blank screen, lost in thought. He never knew a Klingon to refuse a fight, but there was something about his outrage that didn't sit right with J.P.

'Computer, calculate time at maximum warp from our current location to Qo'noS.'

'Twenty six hours, seventeen minutes.' The computer responded promptly. Just over a day, but Hanson had sent the request to the Klingon homeworld nearly three days ago. He'd even chosen 359 as the place to stop the Borg Cube because it was the closest point the ships path took it to Klingon space.

That he'd been able to gather his fleet in the same amount of time and get them here was a testament to the professionalism and efficiency of his people. When it came to a fight Klingons might not be professional, but they more than made up for that with eagerness. Flicking through his logs Hanson checked his recent communications with the Klingon Homeworld.

He'd contacted the High Chancellor directly and it had been Duras's request that he be put in charge of the support fleet. A duty he seemed to be very slow at fulfilling. Reviewing the last transmission in his head Hanson at last let his poker face drop with a frown. 'If I didn't know any better Council Member, I'd almost think you wanted Earth to be assimilated.' He tilted his head back to the ceiling. 'Computer. Last Federation ship to visit Qo'noS, identify.'

'USS Enterprise, NCC-1701-D. Stardate 43685.2.' Six months ago, Hanson grinned. Perfect.

'Scan all available logs, did the Enterprise interact with with Klingon High Council during it's visit?'

There was a pause. 'Affirmative. Enterprise mission involved escorting security chief Lieutenant Worf for legal hearing before High Council. Regarding accusation of his father's betrayal of Klingon forces during Khitomer Massacre. Stardate 23859.7.'

That got Hanson's attention. The Khitomer Massacre was a slaughter when the Romulans attacked the planet, killing off the Klingon colony there. It was one of, if not the, most important events that led to the strengthening of the alliance between the two galactic powers. 'Computer, provide full summery of the Enterprise's mission, including outcome of the hearing.'

Another pause. 'Lieutenant Worf challenged the ruling of the Klingon High Council that his father was guilty of betrayal. After an attack on his Cha'Dlch, Captain Jean-Luc Picard stood as Lieutenant Worf's second during the remainder of the challenge. Lieutenant Worf withdrew the challenge, according to Klingon Law he was banished and his house dishonoured.'

Something didn't ring true about that either. 'Computer, why was the challenge withdrawn?'

'Access to personal logs restricted.' Came the quick reply.

'Of course.' Hanson shook his head, it wouldn't be that easy. 'Is there any record of who made the accusation against Lieutenant Worf?'

'Affirmative. Council Member Duras.'

'Why am I not surprised.' Hanson muttered and sat back again. Not for the first time he wished his old friend Jean-Luc was still alive. It said something that the duty bound frenchman had chosen to stand by his officers side. He respected him, enough to risk his life for his officers honour. Klingon judicial practise was more akin to a school yard brawl than a Federation court room. Jean-Luc was also a good judge of character. It would take something pretty significant for a Klingon to back down. Hanson remembered the large warrior from his last time on the Enterprise. Despite the uniform he was every inch the Klingon. A feeling Hanson didn't get from his brief discussions with the Council Member.

'Something's rotten in the heart of Denmark.' he muttered again to himself, remembering the Klingon love of Shakespeare. With Jean-Luc gone there was only one other man that he could rely on giving him the answers he needed.

Data found the two humans to be interesting. After a brief introduction they, at first, appeared to distrust him. Actively repulsed by his very existence. However, after a moment the senior of the two, Lieutenant Troy, was able to collect himself, as the customary phrase went, and explained.

From their reaction and his understanding of human behaviour it was unsurprising that they had reacted as such. Data calculated a high possibility that he too would be reacting in a similar fashion, were he in possession of emotions. 'I am curious, Lieutenant, was there not a morality failsafe programmed into the Cylon's drones?'

The dark haired man shared a look with his compatriot. 'Truth is we don't know that much about them. What we do is mostly just rumour and legend, all the real Cylons died out long before we made contact.'

'Do you have a morality failsafe?' the other pilot, Dillon, challenged.

Data nodded, it was a useful human habit he had programmed into himself. 'Of course.' After a short pause he calculated to be just long enough he changed the subject. 'Please, this way.' Data guided them to the tubolift.

It took him only a fraction of a moment to decide where the best place to begin their impromptu tour of the ship should be. Of all the sectors available to visitors and guests the most practical was Ten Forward. Commanding the Tubolift to take them there he returned his attention to the pilots. 'Is the Councillor prone to fainting?' Lieutenant Dillon asked carefully.

'No.' Said Mr Worf emphatically. 'She is not.'

'Councillor Troi is half-Batazoid.' Data explained. 'As such she is Empathic, the ability to sense feelings and emotions in others.'

The pilots shared another look. 'That would come in very useful at meetings of your Council.' Lieutenant Troy said as the Tubolift came to a stop

Data ran the statement through his processor again but neither time did he see the connection. 'I do not understand.' He admitted. Mr Worf seemed to be just as unaware as to the meaning of that statement.

'The Colonies were ruled by the Council of Twelve, so Councillor Troi would be on your ruling council.' Lieutenant Dillon explained as if it was simple.

Data ran the comparison and detected the disconnection. 'I understand.' He announced. 'Councillor Troi does not hold a political position, she is the ships psychiatrist. One who's council we seek when in need of emotional support.' He offered the definition.

They seemed to be confused by this themselves. 'Emotional support? Surely training helps prepare the members of the crew for the stress related to space travel.'

'Yes, usually. However we have discovered that certain issues and problems can arise that we not prepared for. A trained psychologist can assist where needed.' Data explained.

Lieutenant Troy had a differing perspective. 'We find that it's easier to talk to one another. As a team we can solve any problem that alone we find too challenging.'

'That is how it is onboard a Klingon ship.' Mr Worf agreed, Data recognised the fact that the Klingon had, in the four years onboard, not to his knowledge confided in the Councillor.

Tilting his head enough to imply both interest and enlightenment Data lead them into Ten Forward and let Worf explain the rooms function.

'Your officer's mess.' Lieutenant Dillon summed up after a moment.

Recognising the term Data agreed and was about to say as much when Guinan, Manager of the bar almost ran toward them. It was the fastest Data had ever seen the usually serene woman move. 'By all that's good in the universe, Colonial Warriors!' she gasped. 'Please, please sit down. I knew I should have saved the last of that Ambrosia!'

Guinan lead them to a table, 'So, at last, the Thirteen colonies of Kobol are united.'

'What?' Lieutenant Troy asked siting down in what Data would have to categorise as a stunned shock. 'We've found Earth?'

Guinan smiled softly and nodded. 'Yes, they helped found the Federation. Built this ship and dozens of others to explore the universe. Tell me about the colonies, your cities are so beautiful, I keep meaning to get back there and see them again.'

Deanna woke up and instantly regretted it. Curling up into as tight a ball as she could she began to cry. 'Hey, hey. It's okay, it's okay.' Her imzati said putting a hand on her shoulder. 'It'll be alright.'

'No Will, no it won't. It can't.' She shuddered. 'He was telling the truth, he was there. He could still see it as if it was yesterday and for a moment there so could I.' She wasn't prepared for that, no one could be. It had taken a lifetime for them to adapt and adjust to what they had seen and the pain was still titanic.

'Deanna, I'm sorry. If I'd have know I would have never asked you to be there.' Will admitted and some how she felt that was the truth. Past the endless, infinite grief that she'd touched.

Calling on all the reserves of strength she had Deanna sat up. Before she could asked Beverly handed her something to wipe her eyes with. 'Where are they?' she asked.

'Worf and Data are giving them a tour of the ship.'

Deanna closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 'We have to help them Will. We have to.'

'I know and we will. If I have anything to say about it we will.' She felt his determination and for a moment, just a moment, she felt like everything could be alright again.

Then the comm system beeped 'Shelby to Captain Riker.'

'I'm here commander, what's wrong?'

'Sensors just detected an energy surge between us and the civilian fleet. We have a new contact, rapidly decelerating. It just changed course to intercept with us.'

Will frowned for a second, deciding what to do. Deanna recognised that flicker of indecision, weighing up the options and considering a dozen different factors she had no knowledge or experience in. 'Hail them Commander, try to identify them and their intentions but keep the shields down .'

'Aye Captain.'

Ben Sisko followed Captain Starbuck down the corridor. The size of this ship amazed him. For the last few years he'd been interested in ship design, looking to design one himself eventually, so he had some idea of the skill and effort that must have gone into this ancient vessel.

'It was immense, built out of powerful solid materials and engineering knowledge he could only begin to grasp. 'This way Commander.' Starbuck led him into a room. He thought it was a room, instead it was a command centre

The back of the room was taken up by a large transparent star-chart. Another room to one side was full of monitors and controls, that looked to Ben as a set of science stations. On the opposite wall was a large Viewport that looked over to bow of the Battlestar. The middle of the room had a command dais looking over everything, including a shrunken pit with a number of officers maintaining ships systems.

There were three people on the dais, all wearing a blue version of Starbuck's standard uniform. One sat at a chair, monitoring several controls, another stood over his shoulder overseeing everything like a first officer and the last turned to face him. This man had to be the Battlestar's commander and if any man could be said to look like his ship it was him. While his hair and beard shock white with age he was still in shape. 'Commander Adama, may I present Commander Benjamin Sisko.'

'Ahh, greetings. Starbuck believes we can trust you and while I might not share his fondness for fumerellos I know him to have good instincts. We need to talk Commander, the fate of your people and ours may rest on that.'

End Chapter Three