The Hour of the Wolf
Chapter Forty-One

Authors note:-

Yeah, it's been a while since I've posted a chapter for this story, I really am sorry about that. Things have been really confusing with this one, so I've needed some time to rearrange things behind the scenes.

Now that I have a better grasp of where the story is heading I can get back to work on it!

Worf forced his eyes open. The strangest thing was it hadn't hurt. A blade like the d'k tahg was designed to do just as much damage going in as coming out. Using the spring loaded secondary blades, even more. So not feeling anything should mean he was dead already.

Only he wasn't. This could not be Sto-vo-kor for his Father was not there to greet him. Nor was this Gre'thor, unless the barge of the dead was a high tech, if damaged, medical centre and not an ancient seafaring vessel.

'Doctor, he's awake.' A woman's voice spoke up. Other than recognising them as human he didn't know them.

A second human, this one male, was standing over him. 'Frack! Increase the sedative another point and get me more pressure. I have to stop this bleeding!'

'Another point?' The woman asked, shocked. 'He's already three above the recommended maximum!'

'What, what happened?' Worf asked, trying to rise.

The doctor pushed him back. 'Don't move, you'll only make things worse.'

'I was, I was…' Worf struggled to find a way to explain what happened. Humans wouldn't understand the intricacies of Klingon honour.

'You were stabbed, nearly gutted. The wound nicked a number of arteries I'm trying to seal. You should thank whatever Gods made you, you're one tough son of a dagget.'

'Klingons have no gods. We killed them, because they feared what they created.' Worf told him, remembering the legends.

The doctor laughed bitterly. 'Why isn't that a surprise?' He nodded to someone and Worf felt something new. A cool numb feeling spreading from his arm. He recognised it as a sedative, as it worked the doctor put a hand on his shoulder. 'Rest, you're safe here.'

With that Worf was unconscious again.

The First's Council had a long tradition. For centuries uncounted before a great battle the Firsts would meet, often in strict secrecy, and discuss the mission that had been outlined for them. While never disobeying the orders given to themthe Council often re-interpreted them. Identifying the weak points as well as possible flaws and addressing them long before they became an issue.

It had never been official, but many a battle had been won by the Council's intervention. The carefully engineering of what official records identified as taking advantage of random chance. Intuitive actions taken in the heat of battle. It hadn't taken long for the Vorta to learn this Council but frustratingly the Jem'Hadar were never caught.

This meeting of the Council, however, was different. For the first time it was official. Roe'met'felcon had called it, with the Founder's blessing, to come up with options. He and four more of the best tactical minds among the Jem'Hadar were sitting in what was a rather well equipped briefing room. A far cry from the familiar supply cabinets and weapons bays where it had been held before.

The five of them looked at each other. For the first time the plans were to be theirs and theirs alone. Only they did not know where to start. 'The Founder has put their trust in us, brothers.' Roe'met'felcon told them. 'We will not, we must not disappoint them.'

'What has she asked of us?'

'A victory. One that will lead to the eventual defeat of the Cylon menace and an end to this war.' Roe'met'felcon announced.

'Victory is life.' Grell'rell'riton repeated automatically. Next to Roe'met'felcon Grell was the oldest among them. His achievements near legendary, but for most of the war so far he had been stationed away from the fighting. Dealing with rebellion and insurrection. While he had almost no experience against the Cylons his fresh perspective and guile were more than valuable here. 'What do the Vorta suggest?' He asked, after a moments pause.

'Unknown.' Roe'met'felcon admitted. 'They have not told us.'

'I already know what that will say.' Tren'fel'drion, another experienced warrior, announced darkly. This First had experience against the Cylon, not only surviving serious encounters, but enacting a number of strategic retreats. While rumour had it that he was a coward Roe'met'felcon believed it to be more than that. 'They will announce an attack of overwhelming force. Throwing Jem'Hadar at a problem until it is solved, or we run out of men.'

'The only debate will be where to attack.' Grell agreed.

'We can all agree that won't work.' Roe'met'felcon snarled. 'While we might achieve victory in the short term the casualties would leave us weak.'

'Then what do you propose? Raiding strikes?' Drell'mek'vanto, the youngest of them, asked. 'That we nip at them? That we wear them down with small numbers?'

'I say attack. We find and destroy their prime command ship. Revenge for what they did to the Founders.' The last of their group, a rash Jem'Hadar known only as Jrell snarled.

He, like them, had seen the recordings recovered of the attack on the Founders home. They had all see images of the immense super-command ship that had led the atrocity. A part of Roe'met'felcon agreed with the idea. The attack had all but crippled the Dominion in one terrible swift stroke. A matching blow would both demonstrate they had remaining power and restore fear in the more reluctant members of the Dominion.

But there were other issues 'No.' he disagreed. 'We have been unable to locate it and would not reach it in time if we did. Even if we could strike they would protect it with everything they have.' Roe'met'felcon paused an idea roughly coming to him.

As his brothers began to argue the merits of an all out attack Roe'met'felcon had another idea. Quietly he brought up a map of Dominion space. Blue showed the areas still under their control, red those systems occupied by the Cylons and yellow those that contact had been lost in. Barely a third of the once great Dominion showed the pristine blue colour, but that was not important. The bright, almost angry, red sectors were spread far and wide. Wit hvery few actually linked to each other.

A side effect of the Cylons unique method of faster than light travel. 'What are their advantages?' He asked in a deceptively quiet voice, stroking the horns at his chin.

The others stopped and looked to him. 'Roe?'

'The Cylons.' he clarified, his one good eye never leaving the map. 'They have succeeded in beating us back. Never before has the Dominion been attacked so hard so quickly or so successfully. How?'

'We have never encountered anything like them.' Tren said simply. 'They outnumber us, jam our sensors and communications. Overwhelm our defences before we can react.'

'How?' Roe'met'felcon repeated intently. Searching for patterns in the star charts where there were none before.

His fellow First's looked at each other. They must have thought he was losing his mind. 'Do you not know?' Asked Drell carefully.

'Of course I know!' Roe'met'felcon snapped, 'I have the beginnings of a plan, but before I go further I must see if I am missing something. You must see it with me.'

That appeared to confuse the younger members of the Council, but not Grell, who also looked at the map on the screen. 'Their greatest weapon has not only been their jamming but their speed. Arriving in a system without warning. You want to counter that ability!'

Roe'met'felcon nodded, pleased that the other First had come to the same conclusion. 'We must nullify their advantages one at a time. We have been focusing on overcoming the jamming. Instead we should overcome their speed.

'Impossible.' Jrell disagreed. 'Impossible. We can't possibly take a command ship and the Raiders are too small to be useful.'

'I wasn't thinking of a command ship.' Roe'met'felcon announced bringing up a tactical report. Showing what was an unfamiliar vessel to some of them. Shaped like a long tube with a command at one end and a large engine array at the other.

'A cargo transport?' Drell read the description. 'We haven't encountered them in battle.'

'I've heard of them. Low priority targets. They ship ore stolen from colony worlds back to the command ships.' Tren described what they were looking at. 'Long range sensors detect them, usually escorted by a squadron of Raiders.'

Grill gave Roe'met'felcon a shrewd look. 'Raiders. No match for a dedicated strike group. You want to capture one of those transports? Bold'

'Not just capture. With a transport the Vorta scientists might learn their secrets. Secrets we can use.' Roe'met'felcon limped across the room as the artificial limb jostled against raw nerve.

'As soon as the Cylon's know we have their vessel they'll launch a full assault.' Tren pointed out. 'They hoard supplies and material. We'd never withstand their counter attack. We wouldn't be able to hold on to it for long'

'No?' Roe'met'felcon asked. 'In my last mission I learnt the Borg have encountered the Cylons. We let them take up the blame.'

'The Borg?' Several of his fellow First's said aloud, surprised by his proposed deception.

'Why not?' He asked. 'We planned to take advantage of the Borg as a distraction, if we can make them look like a true threat.'

'We rearm, improve our own vessels, develop new weapons. All the while our enemies weaken each other!' Grill announced. The collected First's began discussing the logistics of such an act.

As Roe'met'felcon nodded his agreement the door opened. In stepped a Vorta who bowed extravagantly. 'Honoured Firsts I request an audience.' she said diplomatically.

Instantly Roe'met'felcon was on guard. Relations between Vorta and Jem'Hadar had long been delicate. The Vorta seeing Jem'Hadar as nothing more than slaves to be expended. Sending thousands to die through arrogance, or just the belief that they were more important. 'Vorta.' Roe'met'felcon bowed in response. 'What is it you wish of us?'

'Your presence, First of Firsts.' She announced proudly, using the title that had been recently given. 'There is a situation that requires your attention.'

Kurn sat alone in his quarters, reading the data his brother had salvaged from the Duras loyal Bird of Prey. It was everything they could have hoped for and more. Not only did it have an up to date database of supply depots, but the identification codes to access them as well.

With this sort of information they could cripple Duras's forces, ending this civil war in one swoop. Of course the fact a Federation officer was able to access this data with Kurn's otherwise out dated system was a worry.

The Federation were allies, close allies, but even so there was some things they shouldn't know. Every Great House kept secrets, no surprise there. Worf wasn't even an expert in computers, but he had somehow accessed highly classified information. Now the Federation prided themselves on their high handed morals, but the fact was obvious that they could, with their far more advanced systems, access anything they wanted easily.

It was a security issue that Kurn would have to look at eventually, but not right now. Now he had another, more important goal. With Worf's help gathering this and Kurn's developing plan it was just the leverage needed to force the High Council into redeeming their House. The Great House of Mogh would reclaim it's rightful place. Worf would return and lead them. His unwavering honour would be just what their people needed.

Kurn could see that now. Duras and their corruption were just a symptom of a much deeper problem. The Klingon Empire had withered and was rotten to the core. Before Kurn would mock the old men, those that complained into their drink while dreaming of past glories. They would whine and moan about the state of the Empire. He and his generation would dismiss them as fools and head out for battle.

But now. Now he had seen it within own eyes. His own crew, sworn to his side as he was theirs, had disobeyed him. They betrayed him and chose to murder Worf. Without the honour of a challenge they chose to outnumber and attack him.

It should have been understandable. Despite the dishonour he had every right to fight and Kurn had every right to allow that, but because they didn't accept his word they broke theirs. They'd already failed to kill him with legal challenges, and rather than come to Kurn and demand Worf's removal they chose to dishonour themselves.

The one thing that was more important to a Klingon than their life was their honour. They should have a chosen to die. Instead they were already claiming what had happened was honourable. Twisting the facts to fit some sort of narrative where they were the victims.

It was ironic that Worf, the outcast son of a dishonoured house, was the most truly Klingon amongst them. Even himself. The attack had forced him to look back at his own actions and reassess them. Looking at them through Worf's eyes Kurn was worried as to just what he had become.

Kurn was struggling with this revelation when the lights above him dimmed and the alert klaxon began to blare. Jumping to his feet he slapped the control on his wall 'Kurn to command, what is happening?'

'A massive object just appeared in the system. It's approaching at high speed.' his officer reported.

'A ship?'

'I… It can't be. It's too big.'

'On my way.' Throwing the data on his bunk Kurn swung out of his quarters and ran down the neck of his ship. The only thing that slowed him down was the secure bulkhead that lead to the bridge.

Inside whatever orders he was about to give died in his throat. The screen was filled by a massive grey hull. An immense ship, bigger than anything else he'd seen. A pair of Colonial Vipers flew past and towards the titan.

'What are they going to do against that?' Kurn's helmsman asked scornfully. 'What could we do?' Kurn snapped, but that gave him an idea. 'Tactical; report on that ship.'

Worf's replacement stood at the controls. 'Commander?'

Tactical report, that vessel. NOW!' Kurn bellowed at them, shocking the fool out of their stupor.

'Checking.' he paused. 'It's heavily armed. Recently installed heavy phasers, torpedo launchers. There's also multiple heavy weapons I can't identify.'

'Is it a match for our vessel?' Kurn asked the only question he cared about.

'More. I'm reading starbase level shields and some sort of high density armour for the hull. We couldn't scratch it.'

'Commander, we're being hailed by the ship.'

Kurn nodded and sat down in his chair. 'Put them on screen.' With some luck he might be able to convince them there were other ships, cloaked, nearby and that if it came down to a fight they'd lose. 'Unidentified ship I am Kurn, Commander. Klingon Defence Forces.' he announced. 'Identify yourself and your mission here.'

The screen was replaced with a human male's face. Aged, but healthy. They had longish blond white hair and wore a familiar tan and brown uniform. 'Good to meet you kid. I'm Commander Cain, Colonial Military, and this here's the Battlestar Pegasus. We're here to pick up our friends. I hear you've been looking after them.'

Kurn lent back. 'Battlestar… A military transport.' He reasoned, mind spinning. 'You're a military transport.'

The human smiled, 'A Battlestar is more than just a transport kid. Thanks for sticking by our friends.' They cut transmission.

Kurn watched the massive Battlestar continue towards the transport. 'Those Vipers that were flying towards that thing. Where are they?'

'They landed. Those things on the sides are massive hanger bays.' His sensor officer announced

'It must carry dozens of those fighters.' Kurn's crew began to argue. 'We wouldn't stand a chance…', 'How did they build something that big?' 'We have to warn the Chancellor.'

That was something Kurn had to put a stop to. 'No, there will be no word of this. I will inform the Chancellor personally.'

'Commander?'

'They are our allies and our enemies do not know about them.' Kurn explained patiently, 'Imagine the fear they will inspire. The power of their surprise. We cannot waste that with a rumour.'

His crew looked around, at last seeing what he had instantly. They were so proud of themselves they probably missed the other message the Colonials were giving.

That they had resources and power yet unseen. That massive grey hulk out there was a match for a whole fleet. With their Vipers even more so. Kurn knew that these people were a major new force in the galaxy and staying their allies was in the Klingon Empire's best interest.

The Battlestar caught the damaged medical transport in a powerful tractor beam that pulled the crippled ship up and between the two long hangar bays.

'Hail the Medical transport.' Kurn ordered. After a moment the face of Lieutenant Troy appeared on screen.

'Troy here.' he replied curtly.

'I just wish to confirm that the vessel your docking with is known to you.' The Klingon Commander said.

The human smirked. 'Yes Commander, we're quite safe. The Pegasus can deal with any threat.'

'Good to hear, how is Worf?'

'Your officer is recovering, but our med-techs are being careful. We'd like to keep him on board for a while. When he gets the clear we'll send him back to you.'

Kurn nodded and again the transmission ended. He could feel the disapproval from the bridge crew, but couldn't find it in himself to care.

The huge Battlestar pulled away, heading out of the system at incredible speeds. The great ship's thrusters flared like twin novas and it pulled away. Kurn turned to his helmsman. 'Follow them, full impulse!'

At first they caught up to the ship, but it just continued to accelerate. 'Didn't you hear me? I said full speed!'

'We're already there. It's too fast!'

'That's not possible!' Kurn swore. Impulse speeds were not what most people thought. People assumed that it was a linear line from impulse to Warp speeds, but it wasn't. Impulse speeds were different for every type of vessel and depended on thrust to mass. So small ships with big thrusters had a better acceleration than larger ones.

That was what made smaller ships like his Bird of Prey so lethal, being more manoeuvrable and faster than heavy cruisers. It was also what made Vipers so impressive, being that much faster. That this giant vessel could keep pace, or was faster than Kurn's ship?

Who were these people? 'I want full scans, recording everything!'

'Yes sir.'

Not a minute later the vast ship vanished, disappearing completely. Just like every other Colonial ship they'd ever seen. Jumping over his chair Kurn went to a console and began looking at the readings. The more they tried to find out about these people the less they knew

Roe'met'felcon followed the Vorta with a cadre of his best and most loyal Jem'Hadar. It was his duty to investigate any attempt to betray the Dominion. The Vorta had brought evidence that there was a rebel cell here, on the starbase they were using as a staging ground.

The question was who, the workforce of natives? Traders and transport pilots? It didn't matter, his job was to stop them. Convince them that the real enemy was the Cylons and only together, as a united Dominion, could defeat them.

The Vorta bowed deeply. 'They are inside, First of First's.' Roe'met'felcon glanced at her. There was something about the use of his new title that didn't sit right with him.

He didn't like it and there was something almost mocking in her use. For a moment his instincts warned him something was wrong, but orders were orders. It was the way of things.

Picking up on his unease his men charged the pulse coils of their rifles. 'Let's go. Victory is life.'

'Victory is life' they repeated. The door opened and with perfectly trained experience they fanned out. It was a remote cargo bay, half full of stored construction material that could be used as cover. Moving from pallet to pallet the Jem'Hadar swept the room clear.

Roe'met'felcon, despite it all, couldn't keep up with the others. His artificial leg slowing him down. His ancient, decrepit, body betraying him. It wasn't the only thing.

The room was empty. There were no rebels.

Roe'met'felcon turned to the Vorta that had followed them. 'What is happening here?'

'Just as I said, there are traitors here.' She smirked. 'You, First of First's. You betray the order of things. You betray the Dominion.'

One of his solders aimed his rifle. Roe'met'felcon stopped them with a raised hand. 'I serve the Founders, in all things. We all do.' He reminded them.

'The Vorta serve the Founders, Jem'Hadar serve the Vorta.' She corrected him as she marched to the side of the bay. Followed by the angry stares of Jem'Hadar 'That is the Order of things.'

'You are a fool.' He told her 'I won't let you near those controls.'

'No, I am a martyr.' She touched something at her wrist and the lights dropped.

Cursing Roe'met'felcon drew and fired his pistol before the alert began. The blast sending the traitorous Vorta flying back. It was still to late. Behind him the vast cargo bay door opened, the room depressurised and the gravity deactivated.

The Jem'Hadar closest were the first sucked out into the cold vacuum of space. A couple tried to hold on to the stored building supplies, but they had not been anchored down and were pulled out along with the desperate solders.

Some, far too few, were able to find something solid to hold onto but Roe'met'felcon wasn't one of them. He threw himself to the ground at the last second, but with no purchase he found himself tumbling into space.

The air rushed past him, there was only one hope. Wrenching that accursed prosthetic from his ruined knee joint Roe'met'felcon called on all his strength and, at the last moment, rammed it in the runners for the door.

The air finished rushing out, leaving Roe'met'felcon and his team near helpless in zero gravity and exposed to the cold of space. Of all the survivors Roe'met'felcon was on his own, hanging half out of the bay and deadly ice forming over his good hand.

End Chapter Forty-One