The Hour of The Wolf
Chapter Sixteen

Authors note:-

To everyone who's left a review that I haven't been able to get back to, thank you. Thank you very much. I'm terribly sorry I haven't been about to respond in person to every one of you, but with so much going on I just haven't been able to. Every review is appreciated and any questions will be answered in the story, eventually. This chapter though we get to find out more about whats been happening in the Cylon Dominion war and for those of you wondering if Starfleet is going to start building Battlestars, those wheels are set in motion.

I've also been working on other things, the reason I've only been updating this story is my own original novels are well on their way… If only I could learn how to spell!

The war with the Cylons was unlike any the Dominion had faced before. Usually Dominion agents would have infiltrated their opponents long before hostilities erupted. Gathered every scrap of information on their enemies, including weaknesses and strengths. Destabilising governments by sowing distrust between allies and rivals alike. Weakening their power base before striking with over whelming force.

This war was different. The Cylons had come as if from nowhere, nothing known about them. They fought with strange tactics, Their massive ships appearing in system without warning. Multispectral jamming cutting off reinforcements as their attack shuttles struck mercilessly.

The Dominions top strategists were dumbfounded by them. At first there was no logic or reason to the attacks. It took weeks for them to see the connections. Resources. At first it was dismissed because of the outpost attack, but it quickly became obvious that it was a deliberate probe into Dominion defences. Next came the type of resources that were being secured. Instead of dilithium or other rare materials the attacks focused on raw metals and stockpiles of minerals across the Dominion. The attacks could be anywhere, the outer edges or the deep core. The pitiful defences of member races were nothing to Cylon forces.

What made it even more difficult was the attitude of the Cylons. They treated the great military might of the Jem'Hadar as nothing more than an annoyance. One they avoided if they could, but wouldn't go too far out of their way to do so. At best estimation there were at least seven of their command ships, but that was only a guess. Thanks to their jamming field the only warning the Dominion had one of their roaming patrols had been lost was ominous silence. By the time their fleets' arrived the battle would be long over and whatever the Cylons came for taken.

To make matters worse Dominion members were scared, rumours spoke of the imminent fall of the Founders. Some were even talking about open rebellion. Others allying themselves with the Cylons, but all attempts failed. The menace was no more interested in alliances than they were dilithium.

That is not to say there were no Dominion victories. On several occasions Cylon attacks had been detected early and repelled. Their vast command ships forced into retreat in the face of overwhelming Jem'Hadar Fighters, but without more information there was nothing they could do to win the war. They needed to discover staging areas, where the stolen resources were being taken, Cylon construction facilities and more importantly the command structure behind the attacks.

The Founders had instantly recognised that was the primary objective. You could battle soldiers constantly but only a strike at the very centre of command would change the course of a war. So they put a plan in motion. It had taken months, but eventually a shipment of raw trinesium was attacked and captured by Cylon forces and the Changeling infiltrator on board began his work.

J.P. Hanson, Admiral of Starfleet Operations, read over his notes for the briefing. He was not looking forward to this. For an organisation dedicated to exploration, both of new space and new ideas, the top brass could be remarkably conservative. Looking at any proposal for even the most simple reorganisation as one step short of blasphemy.

It was hard enough getting new starship designs past them. What he was planning was a sure fire way of getting reassigned to some god-awful corner. Even money on the Breen embassy or long term posting on the Tholian homeworld. Still this was something the Federation needed.

Slowly the brass entered the briefing room. Hanson's superiors and peers, some discussing their last, or next, holiday. Others happily describing their children's successes, their promotions or the latest trophy they'ed won. Hanson sighed and waited for them to get settled. The nondescript Lieutenant assigned to take notes for the record closed the door as the last Admiral came in. Twelve in total, including Hanson himself.

It took another few minutes for everyone to find a seat, replicate themselves a drink and finish talking. During which time Hanson felt more and more like he was about to march his career straight off a cliff.

'Well we're all here J.P. ' The newly promoted Rear Admiral Robert Layton kicked things off. 'What's the Agenda?'

'Just one item, a proposal. But first, Lieutenant; activate security screens. For now this must be kept top secret.' The Lieutenant nodded and activated the controls. All the briefing rooms in Starfleet Command were equipped with a complicated system of forcefields, blocking transmissions, transporters and scrambling most recording devices.

'This can't be that serious.' Another Admiral rolled his eyes.

'Sorry Gene, but it is. If word got out we have even discussed this we may have issues with our neighbours.'

Layton lent back in his chair. 'Then lets get on with it, but first I've just got to ask; what the hell happened at 359? You've been keeping that under wraps for months!'

Hanson nodded and stood up. 'That's the best place to start anyway.' he chose the middle padd and interfaced it with the screen behind him. It was a closed system but until now he hadn't linked them. 'Wolf 359 was the chosen site to intercept the Borg Cube on its way to sector 001, Earth. I led a fleet of ships to destroy the vessel, but I had underestimated the shear power of the Cube. We lost several ships in the battle. Fortunately for us the automatic distress beacons on the life pods were picked up by a passing patrol.'

Hanson brought up a scan on the screen. 'These are known as Vipers. They are long range probe and reconnaissance craft.' He changed the image to one of something far larger. He wasn't surprised when several Admirals gasped in shock. 'This is its mother ship. A Battlestar, this one is the Galactica. It responded to the life pods by destroying the Cube single handled.' Hanson brought up the recording of the attack.

When it finished he took a breath. 'The Galactica was escorting a fleet of civilian refugees. We have since entered an alliance with them while they attempt to rebuild their culture.'

'I heard rumours that the Andorians recently allowed a colony on the outer edge of their space.' Gene mentioned.

'They are calling it New Kolbol, after their ancient homeworld.' Hanson admitted. 'However they currently have two Battlestars. The Galactica and the Pegasus. I propose we expand our alliance with them to bring both ships into Starfleet. Further more I propose they become the core of a new division of Starfleet Security. To borrow from history, a Federation Marine Corps.'

Like most Changelings this one had no name. No real identity as such. As a part of the Great Link he was everyone of his people and all of them were him. As they went out, into the galaxy and experienced those experiences shaped them. That is until they returned to the Great Link and shared those experiences. Shaping the whole in turn.

He spent weeks being transported from one Cylon command ship to another. His experiences teaching him patience and how to embrace opportunity. He had been in a few close calls, the smelting of the raw ore he was hidden amongst being the first. Fortunately he had escaped by merging with the floor at the last possible moment.

Occasionally he had taken the form of the machines that worked tirelessly in the heart of the Command ships. Learning much in the process, including the ships designation as a Basestar and the fact that each one served as a mobile command post. Working both independently and self sustaining, yet still to an overall plan. He discovered the large chrome and black machines called Centurions were both in command and the standard troops. All this and more he would return to the Great Link with.

Most importantly he learnt that there were no living beings on the Basestars. They were completely run by intelligent, self aware, machines. Automatons, built on an industrial scale deep inside the ships. There was no social interaction, no rest or relaxation. The whole vessel was dedicated to Cylon Empire and the destruction of it's enemies. He knew now that were a single Basestar to survive this foul soulless monster would continue.

One of the problems he faced was understanding. With most, if not all, natural solids when one took their shape they also took their nature. Their self. Take the shape of a Vorta, for example, was to know everything about them. Their strengths and their weaknesses. The Cylons were not from nature. Taking their form gave the Changeling no more insight that it would the materials they were made of.

He knew the physical weaknesses, the strengths that came with the Centurion form, but nothing of their psychology. It felt like a great piece was missing and he couldn't find it. Without it he could not understand why they did what they did or who they really were.

All this was important, and would be welcomed by the Great Link, but it was not his mission. His mission was to find the command, those that made the plan, that designed this sec perpetuating engine of destruction. Eventually he exhausted the possibilities of the Basestar and used the last piece of knowledge he'd learnt.

Not all the materials were used by the Basestar. Those that were surplus, or of special interest, were sent in large cargo ships back, deep into Cylon space. Becoming a Centurion he followed one such shipment, merging with the faceless, identical, killers that crewed the vessel.

The transport made several stops, each one at a Basestar attacking the Dominion. The Changeling had no understanding of how it traveled the vast distances between them. Only that it did so quicker than even the fastest Fighter. Some of the Basestars had been damaged in battle and were repairing themselves. Another sign of their awesome power. Others bulged with stolen spoils of war. All too soon the cargo holds were full and the transport took off across the stars.

This journey was longer, the Changeling could only pick out a few readings, but from the distance they had to be on the outer rim. The very edge of the galaxy. He was in the command cabin when he saw their destination. Even in the form of emotionless steel he felt fear. It was not so much a Basestar as the Basestar.

It consisted of an immense dome like structure, segmented into eight or nine wedges with cavernous hangers in every other part. Similar in some ways to the standard Basestar only much larger. Great pylons extended from the corners where half completed Basestars were docked.

Yet this was no shipyard, it was mobile. A floating capital. From under the main hull extended a cone, pointing downwards and nearly two thirds of the way down an outer ring. Smaller than the top but no less dangerous. Another three Basestars were docked there. Whole and complete. scores of assault shuttles swarmed around the ship, challenging those that approached.

The Changeling found himself hoping that there was only one of these monstrous things, otherwise he feared The Dominion had no chance of winning this war.

'You want to militarise the Starfleet?'

'Never.' Hanson told the assorted Admirals. 'My proposal is for a first response group. Historically Marine Corps were to spearhead a campaign. Lead the charge as it were. That's what I'm suggesting here. For situations like planetary disasters, accidents, Ion storms, even supernovas. Right now we divert ships designed for exploration and research to these events. They are forced to make do with what is onboard. Often overstretched to the limit. A Federation Marine Corps will be specially trained to deal with any threat, be them natural or, if you'll forgive the term, man made.'

'In other words a military force.' Gene repeated

'That would be one of their mission perimeters, yes.' Hanson admitted. 'But not their sole objective.'

'You can't honestly expect us to accept this.' another admiral announced. 'It goes against everything Starfleet was founded upon.'

'No, it doesn't. If I can explain…' There was an eruption of noise as everyone tried to talk over him.

Eventually they stopped and Leyton stood up. 'Let's let him finish before we judge.'

'Thanks Robert.' Hanson took moment to look again at his padds. 'The idea is to supplement Security, not replace or supersede it.' He brought up the Viper again. 'Each Battlestar carries four squadrons of fighters. Sixteen men each squad, divided into two wings of eight. Or four pairs. This give them incredible flexibility. Able to assign groups of various sizes as and wherever needed quickly. I am suggesting we use that same set up and expand upon it. The Marines will consist of small teams of eight, operating in classic squadrons. Each with one or two members trained in four secondary roles. These roles to be Communications, Engineering, Medical and Construction. When an emergency is declared a squad is dispatched. They separate into their groups depending on the scenario, from there each team will be able to asses a situation and report back. Allowing following responses and emergency teams to prioritise their actions.'

'So, why do they need to be part of Security? Why not Operations?'

Hanson kept his poker face on. 'First and foremost these people will be the first on the scene of a disaster. They have to be able to defend themselves incase of looters, riots and other such things. We also need discipline, a careful evaluation of everything clearly and effectively. Finally if these disasters turn out to be attacks we need a force that can respond to that instantly, without hesitation.'

'A military.' Gene pressed again and Hanson's temper snapped

'God damn it yes! We need to be able to respond to threats like the Borg faster, stronger than we have before! We can not afford to be caught on the back foot again! We have to be ready!'

'To start a war?' Gene asked smugly, thinking he'd won.

'To end one, possibly before it begins.' Hanson pointed out only to have the other man jump to his feet

'That's where you're wrong J.P.. Wars end when both sides talk, when they negotiate. They are started by people like you and ended by those like me.'

Hanson burst out laughing. 'And what makes them come to the table Gene? Why do they bother talking in the first place? and what happens when negotiations fail? Its all well and good to sit around a table and talk, but what if they aren't listening? The Borg don't care about lives, they just want to assimilate everything they see. You can't reason with them!'

'The same was said about the Klingons, or the Cardassians! We've proved it can be done.'

'Only after wars. Only after we'd proven ourselves capable of defending our people and our ideals. It's all well and good rattling our sabres, but to most of the Alpha Quadrant all we have are empty scabbards.' Hanson argued. 'There isn't a single major race out there that hasn't tested our defences at least once over the last two hundred years! Sure we've fought them back, shown we can hold our own, but only after terrible losses. Every conflict, major or minor, throughout the history of the Federation has started because we have been seen as weak. An easy target and each time we have been caught with our pants down! We've lost thousands of men women and even children time and time again because we didn't have a mechanism in place to stop it. If just some of the threats we're now encountering chose to attack when we weren't ready there wouldn't be time to organise a response. We'd all be long dead.'

Gene looked skeptical but Layton picked up on what he had said. 'A new threat? You don't just mean the Borg do you?'

'No, I don't. We have reason to believe there are other forces out there just as malevolent as the Borg, and just as unwilling to listen to talks of peace.'

Keeping his shape as a Centurion the Changeling wandered the vast command Basestar. As he headed deeper and deeper in the strange sterile environment he became more and more convinced that there was no organics here either. That some how the entire race was machine. A conviction that was all but confirmed when he encountered his first Cylon civilians.

They were again robots, apparently possessing some measure of freewill. At least more awareness than the Centurions he'd encountered before. Taller than his current form they were also wider and had several different specific designs. The most common was almost humanoid, with what was almost a parody of a face that had two eyes, a nose and a mouth. The top of their skull was a transparent cone, inside a mass of wires and circuits that flickered with tiny lights. They busied themselves with organisation, analysing everything and assigning it a place.

The next model he came across had flat, circular plates in place of faces and wore long golden robes. These appeared to be analysts and archivists. Recording data from sensor and communication arrays then reading them into vast databanks. Mindless work, overseen by gold plated versions of the previous model of civilians.

This super Basestar was undoubtably the central hub for their command structure, but any attack would be suicidal. It would take hundreds of ships to attack, but the Changeling recognised that it would be the only way to achieve a true victory. Now all that required was for him to find a way back to Dominion Space. The question was how.

As he explored some of the deeper reaches of the immense vessel he began to hear something. At first he thought it was an alarm of some kind, but no Cylon appeared to notice. As the sound echoed down hallways the Changeling began to recognise it was coming from one specific place.

Curious he followed it. Beyond the seemingly endless factories building countless Centurions and assault shuttles he now knew as Raiders he found what appeared to be the ships prisons. All but empty there was only a single prisoner but more than a dozen solders. The screaming came from a Vorta.

It was a Weyoun, known for their unquestionable loyalty and quick intellect even amongst the Vorta. They must have been captured and brought here for interrogation. While engineered and well trained not to reveal information there was only so much interrogation a solid could withstand. He was trapped in what looked like a force field. Short arcs of electricity lanced from aerials surrounding the Vorta's head. Each jolt electing another scream. He appeared unconscious, held in place by the device, the howls nothing more than a reaction. It was sickening, but given their apparently emotionless nature there had to be a reason for it.

As the Changeling tried to blend in one of the cone headed civilian models walked in. 'The imperious leader has requested the prisoners presence. Remove him from the Brain Probe.'

'By your command.' A Centurion announced, deactivating the device. Weyoun collapsed in a pile, only to have two other guards pick him up by the arms. The Changeling fell in behind them, becoming one of the guard as the cone headed Cylon lead them up the ship. Eventually they came to a pair of doors, unlike any the Changeling had come across elsewhere. They were made of glass and slid open with an almost musical shimmer.

Inside was a cavernous room, almost a hall. The only illumination was an incredibly bright spotlight that shone on a central column. At the top of the column was a high backed chair. The first and only one the Changeling had seen on the ship. The chair spun in place to face them. On it sat a figure in a hooded red robe. At first it looked like it was a living creature, it's hooded head a bulbous lizard like lifeform. But the Changeling was an expert in observation. He could tell it was simply a mask and that underneath was cold metal and wires just like any other Cylon. He realised that there truly was no true lifeform in charge and that these soulless machines were all.

'By your command.' The lead Cylon announced. 'The prisoner, as ordered.'

At an unspoken command the column slid down into the deck, bringing the Leader of the Cylons to eye level. Weyoun was only half conscious, unaware of what was happening around him.

'The brain probe is complete' the cone headed Cylon announced. 'All his memories and experiences have been uploaded into our databanks. We now know everything he does.'

'Excellent.' Responded the Leader. Just as the Civilian had an expanded vocabulary over the Centurions so did the Leader. His diction and grammar were perfect. We it not for a slight hesitation and a deep echo you could almost be fooled into thinking it was a real voice. 'We will distribute this knowledge across our Basestars in this Dominions space. All will be able to access it, just as we can access the location of every Centurion under our command.' With that it turned to face the Changeling.

He froze, they knew. he should have realised. It had all been too easy, the all but free reign he'd been given to wander the ship! It was all a trap. They wanted to see what he'd do and he'd blindly walked into it. Before he could react two Centurions behind him fired.

The pain was unimaginable. To go from unfeeling chrome to his natural matrix was a shock, but the burning of the weapons bored into him. Boiling away a section of his mass and cutting him down. Unable to maintain his shape he reverted almost on instinct to the half formed features his people used. 'You… you will never defeat the dominion!' he spat weakly.

'Founder…' gasped Weyoun helplessly. 'No.'

The Cylon Leader looked down at the Changeling, dismissing the Vorta. 'A shape shifter. Interesting, wouldn't you agree Baltar?' The Leaders robes parted to reveal a perspex box mounted in it's chest. The tinted plastic cleared to reveal a head, maintained in some sort of fluid. It was organic, a lifeform. Humanoid even, kept alive by the tubes and cables connected to it. The box glowed with an inner light as another voice said; 'Yes, Lucifer. Yes it is.'

'The Galactica did not find us by accident, it was only lucky they found us when they did. They were already on a course to Earth. They were looking for us, they knew of Earths existence through ancient legends. I have people researching exactly what that means, but one thing is sure. The forces that destroyed their civilisation, that drove them from their homes, they're still out there. A species called the Cylon Empire and they know about us, just like the Galactica did. If they can destroy a culture that built ships like the Galactica as a matter of course the Federation, as it stands today, doesn't have a chance.' The Admiral's speech was passionate and he obviously believed it to be the truth.

While a couple of the more traditional Admirals still disagreed Hanson had won over the majority. It wasn't long before it was decided to break and spend time evaluating the proposal in depth. A future meeting was agreed and copies of the Proposal, as well as data on the Galactica and it's support ships, were given to everyone.

Eventually the officers left and the Lieutenant was left alone to secure any sensitive information. Deleting data and securing systems didn't take much effort as most of the protocols were already in place. Packing the remaining padds in to his case the Lieutenant left the briefing room spotless and headed to a tiny office.

Like any on of a hundred scattered across Starfleet Headquarters it was almost impossible to find unless you knew where to look. Legend had it there were several lost ensigns at any given time. Forever doomed to wander the hallways, or until they swallowed their pride and asked for directions.

The Lieutenant was not lost, people in his profession did not get lost. Quietly he entered his office and secured the door. After replicating a glass of water he sat down. Taking a moment before reviewing the Padds and activating his console.

'Begin recording. Confirm initial meeting attended, full report available soon on request. Summery as follows:-' he took a sip of water. 'Rumours from battle with the Borg confirmed. New species encountered, direct threat level minimal. Indirect threat, probable. All operatives to maintain awareness regarding any and all information on species known as Cylon.' another sip. 'Regarding proposals of Admiral Hanson, Advise full support from both Starfleet Intelligence and Security. Suggest assigning Admiral's Layton and Pressman to administrative positions. Agent to be assigned to diplomatic position regards new species, focus on culture and technology understanding. All other active operatives to continue disruption of opposing intelligence assets. Other projects unaffected. Sloan, Thirty-one. Out'

Picking up a padd Luther frowned at it, and remembered what Hanson said about legends. 'How did you know about us, when even we knew nothing of you?'

End Chapter Sixteen

Authors note:-
The Super Basestar. If you want a better idea of the design I pulled it from the original sketches done by Ralph McQuarrie. Just scaled it up lengthened then narrowed the cone at the bottom and added the Basestar docking brackets. Look the drawings up if you want.