The Hour of the Wolf
Chapter Thirty-Nine

Authors note:-

I'm getting some flack for killing Dillon last chapter and I feel that it deserves a quick explanation. Dillon is very dead and will not be coming back. No last minute rescue, cloning experiment or magical alternate timeline.

This is a war. I needed to show some consequences for that. While it was a difficult decision, I've made it and I won't back track. If anything I feel I should have killed off more people. As it was Green Squadron got away lightly, one casualty against three Klingon ships? It was only the losses on the Colonial Transport that stopped me turing the whole chapter into a bloodbath for both sides. Dillon was the only logical choice, his death carried weight for the reader and the reviews prove that.

Will there be more important character's dying? We'll have to see...

Worf waited for a few moments after Kurn left for his ready room before following. Unlike on the Enterprise you didn't wait to be summoned before you could enter and Worf didn't feel especially polite enough to ask at that moment.

'What do you want of me, Lieutenant?' the Commander asked, looking up from his desk while sneering at the rank.

Worf took the rebuke, his Federation rank was worthless onboard and they both knew it. 'We should help them. The Colonials.'

'I know who you meant. Why should we? They are none of our concern.'

'That is not true. They came here responding to a distress call from one of our colonies. Risked their lives for us, what risk is there in offering our aid in return?'

Kurn snorted. 'Risk? You think I am afraid of them?'

'No, but I cannot think of another reason why you would not help.' Worf admitted to his confusion.

'Because it's not our business!' Kurn snapped. 'We are Klingon, does helping them serve the Empire? Does it further our House? Will saving them regain our honour in the eyes of the other Houses? No! Then there is no reason to help them.'

Worf could only stare at the other Klingon in blank shock. To hear such self serving rhetoric was stunning. 'Brother…'

'Not on this ship.' Kurn corrected.

Worf's temper was boiling, but with a tremendous effort he controlled it. 'Where is the honour in doing nothing? You dare call yourself Klingon and stand by when there are battles to win!'

'What battle? It was over before we arrived.'

'The only battle that matters my brother, the battle against death. The battle against hopelessness, against our own dishonour.' He put a hand on Kurn's shoulder. 'The battle is against apathy. Look me in the eye, tell me you would let a fellow warrior die when you could save their life with just a wave of your hand.'

Kurn met his gaze and saw the truth in it. 'You shame me.' He admitted, looking away.

It was not a victory, but it was a start of something. 'No, you shame yourself. It is not to late to change that.'

Kurn shook his head. 'They are not Klingons Worf.' he insisted.

'Should that matter?'

'It does to the crew.'

Worf snarled, that was true. A Klingon ship was run at sufferance. A crew was loyal only as long as they respected a Captain. Kurn had to walk a fine line, made no less dangerous with Worf onboard. He also had to explain their discussion and why his brother was so willing to change his mind. Revealing the truth of their family would only lead to a mutiny. 'Tell them we must de-cloak to use the main sensors. For the report to Colonel Martok.' He said with a flash of inspiration.

'A poor lie. They would see through it immediately.' Kurn reminded him. The sensors, while cloaked, were passive and running on minimum power. While weak they could still gather enough data to piece the battle together.

'Yes, but with the main sensors at full power I can detect what's left of the attacking ship's logs.' Worf pointed out. 'If I can access them remotely…'

Kurn looked shocked. 'We would have access to all Duras loyal information. Fleet deployments, hidden resource bases, even battle plans! Is that possible?'

Worf answered with a feral grin.

Troy opened the canopy of his Viper, but no one rushed to meet him, or any of his squadron. Instead the deck mechanics were all busy working on one section of damage or another. Coming in to land had been difficult, the hanger deck was a wreck. Strewn with debris from ruptured power conduits and parts blackened from minor fires.

He had no doubt that the rest of the ship was in a similar state, if not worse. Leaving his helmet behind Troy jumped down and waved his pilots over. 'Kip, Rheana; you're with me. We're going to try and find that tech, Lahnce, and find out what's going on around here.' The two nodded and Troy turned to the others. 'Xavid, Mehex; scrounge up what fuel you can and recharge your Vipers. I want you back out there fresh as you can as soon as possible to relive the others. The rest of you spread out, help where you can.'

His squadron nodded and got to work. He'd left two Vipers out there on patrol, but their Tylium reserves had to be running low by now. Xavid and his wingman needed to be out there and soon. Without sensors the Astradon was crippled, defenceless and totally blind. If another attack came there wouldn't be any warning.

The deeper into the ship the three Warriors got the worse things looked. Med-Techs were treating injured in the hallways, mechanics were ripping up walls and isolating systems damaged all over the place. Eventually they made it to the Energiser Room where they found Lahnce. A young dark haired man from Gemmion decent. He was urgently working on a section of the main Energiser, while fending off a Med-tech that was trying to tend to a nasty looking cut on his forehead. 'I don't have time… Go away!' he shouted waving a heavy spanner at the Med-tech.

'Chief Lahnce? Lieutenant Troy, what's the situation?'

The mechanic pulled himself free and stood up. 'In a word, fracked. Or if you prefer a full report:- Fracked up beyond all hope!' He threw his hands in the air. 'Any of your people got real technical experience?'

Troy nodded, it was part of standard Warrior training basic technical skills. 'We know which end of a welding wand to hold.' Rheana told him.

'Good.' Lahnce reached over to a pile of tools and puled out a short rod with a finger guard and raised power selector. He threw it to her; 'There's one. Take it and your friend there and go down to deck six, starboard. Any hull breach you can find plug up. I don't care if you have to use trays from the mess or rip up the decking. Make it tight and secure. When you're finished cut power to the whole section and find another breach.'

Troy nodded to them. 'Go.' As the pair left he turned back to Lahnce. 'I've got two thirds of a squadron on the hanger deck. They can help too.'

'Two thirds.' Lahnce repeated running a hand over his brow before wincing when he came across the cut. 'Was it that bad out there.'

'Bad enough.' Troy admitted, remembering Dillon's sacrifice. 'We only took one casualty. The rest are on patrol, in case they got a distress call out, or someone else shows up looking for a fight.'

Lahnce paled, he obviously hadn't even considered that there could be more 'Oh Lords!'

'Could we get a transmission out. A distress call of our own?' Troy asked.

'Not a chance. Even if we could spare the power, long-range communications were part of command. That entire section's hard vacuum. We couldn't salvage what's left up there without special equipment. I don't have the man power and the only suits we had burnt up.'

Troy shook his head. 'What is working?' he asked desperately.

'Well we have gravity and we can breathe, for now.' Lahnce admitted. 'We lost most of the computron systems with Command. Power management's on manual, along with everything else. When the defence screen was knocked out it caused overloads up and down the ship, feedback also damaged the Energiser's coolant system. That's why I need every hull breach sealed. Right now Atmospheric force fields are holding the air in, but are stressing the Energiser.'

Troy glanced at the massive piece of technology at the heart of the ship. Without a coolant system the shear amount of energy it created could cause it to go into meltdown. If the wrong part burnt out the whole ship could explode like a small nova. 'Could we evacuate?' the hovering med-tech asked nervously.

'Where to?' Troy asked them

'The planet, the colony below?'

Troy shook his head 'Not a chance. The colony is in ruins and the atmosphere is toxic.' He sighed with defeat, 'What casualties do we have?'

The Med-tech jumped when they realised he was talking to them. 'Urm, I don't know. We lost Command, so maybe a dozen up there. Another ten, maybe twenty. There's a lot of people unaccounted for. It's been nothing but chaos around here.'

Troy felt his stomach grow as cold as a comet. Thirty people, nearly half the ship's crew, gone just like that. For what? A pointless battle over a useless dead world. The rest of them were about to join them, even if they could stop the Astradon from blowing up it was only a matter of time before they crashed into the planet. The only survivors would be his Vipers and whoever they cold cram on the shuttles.

After a moment he had a flash of inspiration. 'Shuttles. We still have a couple of shuttles on the Hanger Deck. They didn't look too bad to me when I landed.'

'What good are shuttles?' Lahnce asked, 'We couldn't possibly fit everyone onboard and they haven't the thrust to pull us out of here.'

'Don't need to.' Troy pointed out. 'We're in range of New Kobol, just. They could carry a message back there. Get help.'

'You hit your head out there?' Lahnce asked skeptically. 'We're nowhere near close enough for shuttles.'

'It's well past the point of no return, but if we strip out everything and put in an extra fuel cell. Only one pilot. It could make it, at least they could get in communications range.'

'I haven't any better ideas.' Lahnce admitted. 'But it will take a while. I don't know how much time we have here. We're in a decaying orbit remember and without engines we could crash before word gets back there.'

'Then we don't have time to waste do we.' Troy pointed out. 'I'll get my Warriors…'

He was interrupted by his communicator chirping. 'Lieutenant Troy, Green Four here.' it was Xavid.

'Here Four, what's your situation?' Troy asked, fearing the worst.

There was a pause. 'We'd just launched to fly patrol when another Klingon ship appeared out of nowhere. They must have gotten close using those stealth screens of theirs'

'Frack.' Troy cursed helplessly. It was too soon, even if he launched now it was probably too late.

'Sir, they hailed us. They claim to be loyal to Gowron and are offering their help.' Xavid finished.

Troy offered up a prayer to the Lords. 'Why didn't they hail the Astradon?'

'They tried sir, so did we. Communications are down.'

Lahnce shrugged. 'Of course they're down. Everything is.' Troy let himself laugh at that.

'Give them my personal frequency.' Troy ordered 'And then get the rest of the Squadron. If this is a trick I want to be ready to respond.' While he wasn't going to turn down help it was going to be a long time before he trusted Klingon so called honour again.

Roe'met'felcon presented himself before the Female Changeling. Bowing as best he could the aged, battle scared, Jem'Hadar fully expected to be executed there and then.

Instead he was left bowing for a moment before she responded. 'Report.'

Swallowing his confusion, she had to know what had happened already, he straightened up. 'I have disobeyed your command Founder. When my ships arrived in the Tremany system we found a Cylon mothership. Instead of retreating immediately I chose to remain and investigate. The Cylon's were engaged in combat with a Borg Cube. I sent the rest of the fleet back to report this development, however I stayed. My fighter recorded the battle and left when it was over.'

The Founder nodded with him. 'That much I understood. Why did you not retreat with your fleet?'

'I believed that a full report was more important. My arrogance offers no excuse.' Roe'met'felcon replied honestly.

'Yet you sent the others back?'

'I would not waste resources. We were not quipped to combat a Cylon Force.'

The Founder nodded again. 'So you took it upon yourself to conserve resources and present a full description of this latest turn of events. Knowing full well that disobedience, especially to my orders, meant death?'

'Yes Founder.'

'Once again you put the welfare of the Dominion beyond your own.' She announced proudly. 'This is not something to be punished for. And as you pointed out we need all the resources we can get. You, my good and loyal Jem'Hadar, are irreplaceable!'

'Founder?' Roe'met'felcon was shocked.

'It is true, before this terrible war your actions would be unthinkable, so would this nightmare we are forced to live each day. True loyalty is shown in your actions, I can forgive your disobedience. This time. Now tell me of the battle.'

Roe'met'felcon had never heard of such praise, he felt both humble and grateful for the Founders forgiveness. 'The Borg were battling a full Cylon attack ship. It received heavy damage and was forced to retreat. The Cylon vessel was also badly damaged, but not enough for my Fighter to combat. I chose to escape with what information I had gathered.'

The Founder frowned at that. 'I see. The Borg do not retreat, normally. They attack until destroyed, or they get what they want.' She walked back to the large window overlooking the stars 'How badly damaged were they?' She asked.

Roe'met'felcon thought back on the battle. 'I have fought the Borg before Founder. They are most resistant. The damage was high, but they were more than capable of surviving. I do not know why they chose to retreat.'

The Founder turned back to face him. 'Was the Cylon jamming field active?'

'Of course.' Roe'met'felcon told her, before realising what that meant. 'It was disrupting the Collective. They could not communicate with their brethren so they had to retreat!' The Borg had a collective hive mind, Cylon jamming disrupted Dominion communications, it could have the same effect on the Borg. That sort of disruption would be just the advantage needed against the Collective.

'Ironic, the weapon we have sought against the Borg for centuries and it is delivered to us by our greatest enemy.' The Founder said quietly. 'We can only hope this development gives us the opportunity to prepare. Send word to all our forces, far and wide. Have them set up defences, all attacks are to stop immediately. Let our enemies fight to the death. The Dominion endures.'

Roe'met'felcon bowed. 'Yes Founder.'

'Before you leave, I have a question. You ordered your forces to arm energy torpedoes with proximity fuses. Why?'

'It was a gamble Founder.' He admitted. 'On the battlefield artillery is used to thin out an enemy's attack. reduce their numbers before they reach your defensive line.'

The Founder grinned suddenly. 'An artillery barrage, using torpedoes against Raiders. The proximity detonations, they would take out more than one at a time.' She reasoned out. 'That might have been effective. I will have the Vorta conduct simulations, it may prove effective. Now go, follow my orders.'

Roe'met'felcon bowed once again and left. He would not disappoint the Founder. Not again.

Worf grunted before stretching. He'd spent the last couple of hours in front of the computer, trying to access the logs from the Chaldaq. Klingon computer security wasn't half as complex as Federation, neither were the computers themselves. With the resources on the Enterprise it wouldn't have been this hard.

Were Data, or even young Wesley Crusher, with him this they would have cracked the code by now. Instead he had to rely on his own skills. He was far better at shooting or hitting things than intricate computer programming. Still he was well trained and had Bridge officer experience.

After running through the code one last time Worf ran the algorithm he'd painstakingly built from the ground up. He watched as the code danced around the security blocks, probing the defences carefully. Finding a chink in the armour.

A few seconds later the backdoor opened and he had limited access. Logs of communications, subspace frequencies and duration. While he didn't have any content yet it was only a matter of time before he decrypted those. With the right programming and tracing the ship's previous locations you could extrapolate the source of the transmissions with what he already had.

Copying the available details to the ship's archive Worf checked the time. His shift was long over. He had enough time to get something to eat in the mess hall, a quick sleep and then back to work. Worf isolated and and locked his console with a series of keystroke commands. Primitive, but more than effective, security.

Kurn had, with some complains for the crew, offered to tractor the Colonial transport into high orbit. Lieutenant Troy had been concerned and since they had de-cloaked the patrol of two Vipers had increased by another six. Four of which shadowed them. Worf wasn't worried about an attack, it only made sense after an ambush to be more careful.

Once in the mess hall he looked around. The room wasn't empty, but it was quiet. A couple of officers were in the corner. When they saw him they looked to each other and left. Leaving their food behind.

It wasn't the first time others had refused eat with him. Few of the crew were comfortable with his presence. Those that were only did so to insult and attack him. Worf ignored them and headed to the storage at the back of the room. Finding a food pack that didn't look too spoiled he found a seat. Even for this time of the night the hall was quiet. The barrel of bloodwine was unopened and the half dead gagh was left untouched.

His instincts were screaming at him that something was wrong. Carefully Worf checked his d'k tahg was still in it's sheath and stood up. If he was just being paranoid then he could finish his meal in his bunk. He made it two steps before the main doors opened and a group of officers came in, baring his way.

They quickly surrounded him, ringing the walls, after a moment the leader reviled themselves. It was Ket'Var, the helmsman. 'Worf.'

'Ket'Var.' he replied darkly. It wasn't the first time one of the crew had challenged him and Worf was sure this wasn't going to be the last. Usually it didn't come with a crowd, but anything was possible.

The bridge officer sneered, 'You're a traitor, and we're not going to let you stain our honour any longer.'

With his peripheral vision Worf could see the others grumbling their agreement. Worf calmed himself, fighting in a rage only made one sloppy. He was getting ready for the inevitable swing when Ket'Var looked behind him. Worf realised exactly what was happening, but it was too quick. Something heavy crashed into his back, driving Worf to his knees.

Another crash and whatever it was shattered. Had to be a chair Worf realised, his ears ringing and spots dancing in front of his eyes. This wasn't a challenge, there was no honour here. His arms were grabbed and he was roughly lifted to his feet. A third one grabbed his hair and pulled his head level, to look Ket'Var in the eye. 'Your father was a traitor, he betrayed us to the Romulans. You are a traitor, you betray us to the Federation.' He accused. Taking Worf's knife he flicked open the secondary blades and held it under Worf's nose.'This is the weapon of a Klingon, you have no right to it, but I refuse to tarnish my blade with your thin blood.'

To be slaughtered like a sick Targ by cowards afraid to face him in a fair duel, this was not how the son of Mogh would die. Ignoring the pain form his scalp Worf delivered a standing headbutt straight to Ket'Var's nose, breaking it and sending the fool back a few steps. With all his strength Worf wrenched his arms free of his shocked captors. At first he turned to the ambusher on his left. It was Kem'Vek, the ships medic and Ket'Var's cousin. Taking their nearest arm Worf threw them over his shoulder and into half of the crowd that still surrounded them.

The other officer on his right Worf didn't recognise. They took his hesitation as a opportunity and tried to attack, looking to wrestle Worf down to the ground where numbers would make this a short fight. Seeing this Worf braced himself and kept his feet. Catching them in a head lock and bleeding off most of their momentum. Ignoring the brief flicker of regret he twisted sharply and their neck snapped. As the lifeless body fell to the deck the remaining crowd stepped back, none of them brave enough to step up and face him alone.

The only other one left in the circle was Ket'Var. The helmsman tried to raise his guard, but Worf ignored that. With practiced speed he delivered a series of modified palm strikes, a combination of Klingon martial arts and human styles he'd developed. They had the effect of quickly disarming the coward and at the same time punishing their already broken nose. Leaving him disorientated, half blind and ready for a killing blow.

Picking up his knife Worf contemplated delivering that blow. A true Klingon would slit his enemies throat, they would revel in killing an opponent. Any opponent. Worf could only see a waste of life. Closing the blades he sheathed it back on his waist. He remembered his Father's saying. 'You cannot tarnish a rusted blade.' He told the cowering fool. After a moment he turned to the crowd. 'I have already killed one today. I make no argument with any of you, unless you make one with me. I will tell Kurn it was a legitimate challenge, that he died with honour and that I alone am to blame. As for this one. He will heal and I will not speak of it, nor of any of you.'

There was a muttering from the crowd. one word could be heard over the babble. "Mercy?'

'No, not mercy. I just have no intention of slaughtering the crew of this ship. You are not my enemies, I am not yours. If you want to Challenge me have the honour to do so correctly.' With that Worf headed to leave.

The crowd began to part and the doors to the mess hall opened behind them. Then one stepped forward, it was the communications officer Meh'Thone. She was a good head shorter than him and it took Worf a moment to realise she was there.

She looked up at him, sneering. The bravery of a someone that knew she wouldn't be attacked. A warrior would not react, so Worf just looked back coldly.

He almost wasn't surprised when she stabbed him. Her blade slipping between the plates of his armour. 'That's my challenge, Worf, son of traitors.' she hissed between clenched teeth as they twisted the knife in his gut.

End Chapter Thirty-Nine

Authors note:-

This is Worf, do you really think he's dead?