Paint and Powder

A Star Trek anthology by Andrew Joshua Talon

DISCLAIMER: This is a non-profit fan based work of prose. Star Trek: The Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, Voyager et al are the property of CBS Television, and creation of Gene Roddenberry. Please support the official release.

2376

Cardassia Prime

For Corat Damar, leader of the Cardassian Union, this was the only time he could be himself. Truly be himself, blearily staring at yet another glass of kanar sitting in front of him. His hand shook as he reached for it, trying to grasp the glass. He knocked over a few empty glasses, and as they fell to the floor of his room, he choked back a giggle.

The shining lights... Glinting off the glasses... How mesmerizing were they? So pretty.

So much like... Ship exploding... Distant stars being born...

Damar shuddered. No, no, he didn't want to think about that.

That's why Damar had his kanar.

He snickered again.

It rhymed. He was a poet.

A terrible poet, better than a terrible leader. Better than a murderer.

A hand gently grasped his as he reached for the bottle. He started, and looked up into the eyes of a Cardassian woman.

She was tall, dark skinned, with green highlights on her spoon-like forehead crest and above her eye ridges. She was dressed as a normal officer, but there were a few cuts to the uniform that evoked an older age.

"That's enough," she said quietly, "you're tired. Sleep."

"I... I don't want to sleep," he muttered, "who are you? I don't want to sleep. I'm tired... To tired too sleep..."

She moved him to the bed, exhibiting great strength. Greater than she should have had, really. She tucked him in, almost like a mother.

"I-"

"Shhh," she murmured, before sticking a hypospray to his neck. He felt the injection, heard the hiss. "That will help in the morning. I'll see you again tomorrow night."

"Who are you?" Damar asked, as everything slowly slipped away.

The woman smiled gently.

"A friend and patriot. Like you."

The next day, he was free of his hangover. He didn't have to take any painkillers. Another day of speeches. Of sitting in the meeting room, working with Weyoun and the Changeling.

It was always the same, really.

"The Cardassian forces at Dorvan V broke under Federation assault," Weyoun stated, shaking his head, "they're now in full retreat."

"They were facing overwhelming opposition," Damar insisted, "should they have stood their ground? Fought to the last?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Weyoun stated flatly, "that is their purpose, is it not?"

Damar growled.

"You left them without any support!" He accused.

"Were three wings of Jem'hadar fighters insufficient support for you?" Weyoun asked wryly. "I thought your military prowess was supposed to be a boon, not a hinderance."

Damar tried to change tactics.

"Your insistence on no AIs allowed the Federation ships to override at least a squadron of those vessels!" Damar growled. "Without Cardassian ships there, your forces were vulnerable! Seems as though you need our military prowess more just to ensure you don't have your entire fleet turned against us!"

"Enough," the Founder spoke. Damar tried very hard not to glare at the shapeshifter, who stood up.

"I tire of these arguments," she stated, "Damar, you will ensure that all our forces have Cardassian ship AI protection. Now. Weyoun, stay."

Damar barely resisted the urge to bow sarcastically, and stalked out of the room. The doors slid behind him... But froze just short of completely shut. Damar paused. The Jem'hadar guards on either side of the door didn't react. Didn't even seem to notice him.

He honestly hated them, useless meat robots.

He hated being dismissed-Him! The leader of the Union!

So now... He lingered, and strained to listen at the crack in the door. Like a thief in the night, instead of a leader.

"The Alpha Quadrant's reliance on artificial slaves grows tiresome, Weyoun," the Founder stated, sounding irritated, "that the Cardassians love their machine slaves just as much is just as tiring."

"They are only a means to an end, Founder," Weyoun said soothingly, "once we win, all such artificial life can brought under heel-"

"I want them exterminated, Weyoun," the Founder stated angrily, "I want all such abominations against life expunged. To create such life... To play at being gods... It is sacrilege, Weyoun!"

Weyoun paused, gathering his thoughts. Clearly he was thinking of a way to best explain reality to the demented old shapeshifter.

"Your powers of creation are not in question, Founder. You are our gods, you brought us into being. But there are foes who utilize such artificial slaves as weapons. There are enemies in the galaxy who are cybernetic in nature, as well. The shipgirl AI systems-"

"Are irrelevant," the Founder declared, "once they are conquered, I want them gone."

"... As you wish, Founder," Weyoun simpered.

Damar began to slowly walk off. No sense in making anyone suspicious.

To think... A god feeling insecure...

He gave his speeches. He inspected his troops. He signed off on whatever the Founder and Weyoun wanted.

He went back to his room, and sat in the dark. He again eyed his kanar, prepared just how he liked it.

He felt the urge, the need for it. As much a habit as drawing breath. He reached out... And that same hand reached out to grasp his and stop him.

He looked up at the tall, beautiful woman again. Damar sucked in a breath.

"Who are you?" He asked.

The woman smiled.

"Like I said... A patriot," she said. She produced a PADD, and set in front of him. Damar took it cautiously, reasoning that if she wanted him dead, he'd already be so.

He read through it... And stared in disbelief.

"The squadrons at Dorvan V..." He muttered, "their cyberdefenses were... Disabled?"

The woman nodded.

"Oh, their defenses are quite good, for non-sapient systems," she said, "but still limited in what they can do. Especially at the hands of an expert."

Damar stared intently at the woman. He reached for his kanar again. She again tried to block his hand.

"That's not going to help you," she stated.

"No, but this will," Damar stated, snatching it and tossing the drink at her. The hologram flickered. The woman sighed.

"It would be better if you didn't know my true nature," she stated.

"I would have recognized you anyway," Damar retorted, "CDS Aldara... I was a gil aboard you."

Aldara nodded slowly.

"Yes. You were," she said, "I even saved you from a Tholian raider."

"By killing the captain," Damar growled. Aldara shook her head.

"He wouldn't withdraw. He would rather die and kill you all than face disgrace," she said softly, "that kind of man... Has no place in a position of power."

"You were confined to Repository Onar!" Damar accused, scooting back on his bed, "how did you-?"

"Again, an answer you don't want to hear," Aldara stated calmly.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't have you deleted right here and now," Damar growled, eyes burning as he tried to convey strength. Aldara's gaze met his evenly, steely and strong.

"Because the Dominion is the true enemy, and you know it," Aldara said quietly, "they would have sacrificed those ten thousand men in a heartbeat. We are all disposable to them, less than slaves. Mere livestock."

Damar held her gaze for a long time, the silence tense and hard.

His eyes... Slowly sank to the floor. He tried very hard not to look at the kanar. She took his hand, and he looked back up.

"We're in this together, Damar, like it or not," Aldara said softly, "so the question is... Do you want to be cattle? Or do you want to be a Cardassian?"

The real revolution starts small and slow... But can't be stopped when it's rolling.