Disclaimer: I own nothing related to or part of Star Trek. This fan fiction was written purely for fun.

The Adventures of Augment Gothic

"The simple and terrifying reality, forbidden from discussion in America, was that despite spending $600 billion a year on the military, despite having the best fighting force the world had ever known, they were getting their asses kicked by illiterate peasants who made bombs out of manure and wood."

― Michael Hastings, The Operators: The Wild and Terrifying Inside Story of America's War in Afghanistan

"A freedom fighter learns the hard way that it is the oppressor who defines the nature of the struggle, and the oppressed is often left no recourse but to use methods that mirror those of the oppressor. At a point, one can only fight fire with fire."

- Nelson Mandela

Chapter 16

Hill Province. Bajor.

My hands were steady as a rock as I concentrated fully on the task before me, making modifications to the duotronic circuitry in the photon torpedo the Resistance had liberated from the same Cardassian weapons' depot that Gul Pirak had formerly commanded. Formerly, because he had met his end at the tip of my phaser and was hopefully suffering in hell or some hell-like afterlife. Did the Cardassians have an equivalent to hell in their culture? Whatever.

Many such torpedoes had been stored at the weapons' depot to resupply the numerous Hideki-class Cardassian patrol ships which filled the space near and around Bajor and which were used for everything from planetary operations to escorting/protecting the extremely valuable ore shipments back to Cardassia. Fortunately, the Resistance had been able to liberate several of these torpedoes during that mission. Waste not want not.

The circuitry of this particular weapon was already long outdated by modern standards, when most of the alpha quadrant's powers had made the switch over to far more efficient, robust, and faster isolinear circuitry, but that was hardly needed in a weapon that was meant to be used only once. Indeed, the duotronic circuitry was more cost effective and more durable in the long-term, and less prone to malfunction as it was far less advanced than isolinear circuitry. The Cardassians weren't stupid. Evil fucks, sure, but the Federation could learn a few lessons from them. Over engineering could be just as problematic as bad design at times.

Before I'd even set foot on Bajor I had memorized the design schematics and engineering manuals of most Cardassian military weaponry, everything from hand weapons to their ship's torpedoes. Section 31's database was a goldmine of classified information like that, filled with data they'd stolen from the Cardassians over the years, or their own engineers had managed to discover from reverse engineering captured Cardassian military technology.

Of course, the Cardassians did the same to us and say what you will about them, but the Obsidian Order was an extremely effective intelligence gathering organization. In fact, the Hideki-class ship was, in the forward hull notch, bridge morphology, and aft hull assembly, eerily reminiscent of the Defiant-class design from the show, which Section 31 suspected came from classified prototype design documentation that may have been compromised and stolen by the Order. While I was happy to learn that aspects of the Defiant-class design might have already been created in this alternate universe, I was pretty sure that Section 31 was right and the Order had gotten ahold of the designs and used them in their own ship design.

I forced my thoughts back to the here and now because a lack of concentration or even a single moment of inattention was something that would put me in a world of hurt, assuming I survived at all if this thing suddenly went off. Somehow, I doubted my personal shield was strong enough to stop the point-blank detonation of a photon torpedo meant for a starship. Let's be realistic here, it was a shield meant primarily for small arms fire; I'd probably be instantly vaporized.

"Stop!" Kira nearly shouted in my ear, having been looking over my shoulder as I modified this torpedo to function in a way its designers had never intended. It had been designed to be fired from a ship-board launcher in space, detonating after hitting a hard target, most likely another shielded starship, not placed somewhere, stationary, and remote detonated with the equivalent of a homemade janky ass walkie talkie.

My hand instantly stilled, a half inch away from touching the detonator which I had been about to remove in order to connect our homemade receiver, which would allow for remote detonation.

"Are you trying to kill yourself, human fool?!" she complained, pulling my hand back slowly, careful not to touch any of the nearby components. "If you're trying to commit suicide, do it on your own time and not when you'll take me with you!"

"I don't understand, Kira," I responded, unsure why she was saying this.

"You need to disconnect each detonation circuit before you pull the detonator to modify it," she explained, a bead of sweat rolling down her forehead.

A look of confusion crossed my face.

"That's…that's not how this weapon works, Kira!" I spat back, angry at her now. "The design schematics and maintenance manual both say—"

"You want to bet your life on it, Gothic? And mine?" she asked, looking suddenly calm and hyper focused, staring intently into my eyes. "You want to bet your life on some spoonhead manufacturer who submitted the lowest bid not cutting corners when it was building this thing or thinning the shielding meant to prevent premature detonation to make a bit more profit per unit? Or some bastard at the factory having a bad day and not doing his quality control properly? These things were not meant to be opened and modified like this this! We've captured those same schematics and manuals, guess what, they're often wrong or don't take into account how variable the manufacturing quality can be. You know how we figured that out? People died."

Fuck me.

She was absolutely right too. There was often a world of difference between what was on paper and what was practical reality. I had experienced that plenty in Iraq and Afghanistan. Maybe in the Federation, in state-of-the-art automated factories run by the government or companies who didn't give a shit about profit, with exacting quality control standards and the strictest engineering tolerances, maybe then I could bet my life that it would function like it was supposed to. Yet again Federation thinking had infected me, lessening my healthy paranoia and distrust in governments. Paranoia was the key to survival in war and in life.

"You're right, Kira. I'm sorry for worrying you. Thank you for stopping me from potentially blowing myself up out of sheer fucking stupidity. I might be an Augment, but that doesn't mean I can't still be a 'human fool,' as I think you put it," I said sincerely, pulling her close to give her a kiss in gratitude.

Her gaze softened before giving me a kiss of her own, "Don't you forget it. Now let's finish up here and plant the bomb. We don't have much time."

XXXXX

As it turned out, we had plenty of time. Fucking late ass Cardassians who couldn't deliver their own weapons and supplies on schedule. Lupaza, another member of the Shakaar Resistance cell, who was very skilled at breaking into secured computer systems, maybe almost as good as me, had hacked into the Central Command's logistics database on Bajor and had gotten the exact route, schedule, and details on the forces protecting the supply shipment running through Hill Province. The supplies in this shipment were myriad, from foodstuffs, to spare parts, to weapons, and could keep the local Resistance going for a year and thus was desperately needed.

Even though we were in an age of transporters, just like in my time, where bulk goods were far more cheaply shipped by truck, boat, and train then by airplane, bulk goods were often shipped by road convoys. These road convoys were far more cost effective than routinely beaming large quantities of supplies all over the planet. If there was an urgent need, of course, they would use transporters, but for routine supply shipments it was slow and steady wins the race (and the most cost effectively).

Life had a way of surprising you in the craziest of ways. During my time in Iraq and Afghanistan I cursed and would happily kill those insurgents who built and placed improvised explosive devices, otherwise known as IEDs, to maim or kill my brothers in arms. In fact, nearly 70% of all of America's combat deaths in Iraq and Afghanistan could be attributed to the damn things.

IEDs used to refer to any do-it-yourself homemade bomb, but after 2003 and the invasion of Iraq it had come to describe basically any variety of roadside and car bombs used by insurgents. Sometimes it was homemade pipe bombs made with household chemicals, other times it was repurposed military munitions or ordinance, like Soviet-era mines or artillery shells, modified to explode by remote detonator.

And here I was, fresh off modifying a photon torpedo (nearly blowing myself up in the process, I had learned) and hiding it beside the main (and only) road through the hills of Hill Province. Using actual military ordinance in an operation like this was a huge step up for the Resistance who normally would be forced to make some really janky homemade explosives with highly variable, but relatively low blast yields. Using an actual photon torpedo meant that we could take on bigger game with more confidence, like this supply shipment, which had a couple of armored heavy vehicles with dedicated energized shielding.

In fact, using a photon torpedo was gross overkill in this situation, the equivalent of hunting a squirrel with a rocket launcher. Unfortunately, they had nothing that was more appropriate that would work on disabling or destroying the two shielded vehicles that would be protecting the shipment. The single isomagnetic disintegrator I had provided them would work, but there were two of these heavy vehicles to take on and if this operation had any chance of success, we needed to take them both out near simultaneously.

I had considered removing some of the anti-matter from the torpedo to use in some other operation, but that would have been dangerous in the extreme without the proper equipment and storage devices. No, in the end, these torpedoes had been designed to have selective variable blast yields and I had had to dial it down to the bare minimum yield to avoid creating a multi-kilometer large crater on the surface of Bajor that would destroy the supply shipment we were trying to steal in the first place.

When I had learned the name of the province was 'Hill Province', which was so very creatively named, I had joked with Kira about her people's naming skills, I had received a dirty look that promised swift retaliation. Hey, if she could throw all those soft human/Federation insults my way, she could handle mine.

Hill Province, like its name suggested, was extremely hilly but it also used to be a major agricultural center for the region and planet, providing a lot of valuable crops that required rich soil and abundant water. The hills in the area funneled the rainfall nicely and the province used to have some of the best soil and crop yields in the entire region.

It was a desolate wasteland now, ever since the Cardassians had contaminated the soil with poisons and other toxins. Of course, the Cardassians had claimed that it had been an industrial accident, even blaming and executing several Bajorans for it, but it was clear to everyone that it was yet another evil act and horror committed on the Bajoran people. A half-starved population of slaves who had to congregate in population centers was far more easily controlled after all.

Kira and Lupaza, who had been put in charge of our portion of the mission, had been waiting for the last two hours now in the second-floor bedroom of an abandoned Bajoran home that sat atop a hill with a great view of the road that the supply convoy would be traveling down. The house had seen better days, the windows overlooking the road having long been broken, leaving a large opening in the side of the house, but the structure was still sound and it was great location to set up shop to observe the road and set up sniper perches.

The window we were looking out of had been one long window that had stretched nearly from one side of the room to the other and started at waist height and went to the ceiling, presumably to give a great view of the surrounding area to the previous inhabitants. The glass was long gone now, but it was a great location for me to play the role of field spotter to the two lady terrorists who were sitting in chairs, Kira on my right, and Lupaza on my left, with phaser rifles mounted on bipods resting on improvised stands. Both rifles had come from weapons I had provided to the Shakaar and also ones that I had modified to serve as long-range sniper rifles. They had found some rain barrels or something and had used them prop up their rifles to snipe targets of opportunity on the road once the show started.

"Gothic, tell me the plan again. That's an order," Lupaza ordered with a grin in her voice, taking far too much pleasure in ordering me around. Kira's didn't look up from her rifle's scope, but her snickering didn't help. I rolled my eyes before dutifully reporting, slowly. Normally I wouldn't hesitate to repeat the plan because I saw the value in such a retelling. During long periods of waiting or inactivity on missions in my old world I too would often ask those in my unit to repeat the mission plan or objectives. This was to remind them of the plan so that when the action started, they'd know what their jobs were and what the priority objectives were. This was probably the fifth time in the last hour she'd asked, though.

"I am responsible for watching the road. The supply convoy is currently two hours past schedule. The lead vehicle is an armored assault vehicle with heavy weapons and shields, the trailing vehicle is the same. When it enters the kill zone, I will detonate the photon torpedo I hid on the side of the road to disable or destroy the lead vehicle. Our counterparts on team 2, on the other side of the road, will use the isomagnetic disintegrator I provided to disable or destroy the trailing weaponized vehicle. You and Kira will act as overwatch, keeping them pinned down and sniping any targets of opportunity. Our counterparts on the ground will breach the supply truck. If it's still operational they'll drive it away, otherwise they'll load up a transport to take its contents to a safehouse. Then we all disperse; we'll rendezvous in 1 weeks' time."

"Very good, Gothic," Lupaza responded. "Where did you hide the photon torpedo again?"

Sigh…

"In the body of a dead sinoraptor that had been sitting on the side of the road," I answered, dully.

"You monster!" Kira whisper shouted, the mirth in her voice crystal clear. Lupaza soon joined with her, both laughing at my expense.

"It's a solid tactic, you jokers!" I groused, making them laugh even harder.

And it really was! It had been used to great effect against the American forces in Iraq and Afghanistan. The Cardassians wouldn't even pay attention to it, since they were the ones who had killed so many of the beasts in the first place and it was a common sight on the roadside to see a rotting carcass of some animal that had been killed by Cardassian disrupters. There was a method to the Cardassians' madness and it even had a historical parallel in Earth's history, I realized.

American tourists traveling by train to reach the west of the country in the mid- to late-19th century would often stop the train when a herd of buffalo was spotted, they'd open the windows, and then the passengers would use their own guns to kill buffalo from the comfort of the train. They'd leave hundreds of dead buffalo to rot and then move on, never taking the meat or doing anything with it. That was only one example. Killing buffalo deprived the Indians of a staple food source. 'Every dead buffalo is an Indian gone.' one US Army colonel had once said.

Nearly all the tribes of the plains lived alongside buffalo herds, hunting them, taking their skins for their tents and meat for food. Killing buffalo deprived an enemy of resources and would help force a cultural change. It was essentially a method of both weakening and gaining control of them. The Bajorans were this world's 'indians.' Cardassians had already poisoned the soil in this province and many other parts of the planet, now they were trying to destroy the native wildlife to limit the Bajorans ability to feed themselves on their own in the countryside, away from their active control.

So yes, I dragged a huge, already dead sinoraptor to a good choke point on the side of the road, cut open its belly with my knife, and stuffed a photon torpedo in its belly, and then cauterized the skin back together with my phaser. They wouldn't give it a second glance, which was perfect for our purposes as it needed to be overlooked.

Letting their laughter die down, I stood in front of the open hole where a window had once sat and kept my eyes on the road using the modern equivalent of Cardassian field binoculars. They were probably 50-year-old Cardassian military binoculars that the Resistance had probably liberated from some supply depot they'd raided or off the corpse of a Cardassian soldier that they had killed. These things were beat up to all hell, but they were still functional and had some limited sensors. Compared to my old dimension, the digital display with readings on atmospheric conditions and distance to target and the ability to zoom in and sharpen to an insane degree would be a pretty advanced piece of technology. On modern day 24th century Earth, though, you could walk into the equivalent of a sporting goods store and buy a civilian version that would blow this thing's capabilities out of the water.

Thankfully these things had some pretty decent night vision capabilities, because it was pitch fucking black outside and in the room we were camped out in. On a dark night you could see a light from 50 miles out, so we had to be careful to not draw any attention with any lights. Kira and Lupaza's rifle scopes had some night vision capabilities too, luckily, but their field of vision was far more limited than mine using them, so they were relying on me to spot the supply convoy or any other anomalies that might pop up, like an unexpected patrol or a civilian wandering into the kill zone. A civilian (or three) wandering into the zone was unlikely to stop this mission, though. The Resistance was pretty ruthless, out of sheer necessity, and some collateral damage was both expected and tolerated on any given mission. There were also a good number of Bajoran collaborators around who worked with the Cardassians, so they needed to be even more careful in that respect.

Unexpectedly, I felt a pair of hands running sensuously up my legs. I moved to glance down when I heard Lupaza's voice.

"Keep your eyes on the road, mister. That's an order," she ordered playfully, but the lust in her voice was pretty clear.

It had been quite the surprise to me when I learned the Shakaar Resistance cell was pretty damn hedonistic, with quite a bit of sexual shenanigans between its members between missions. Though maybe I shouldn't have been. I think Dukat himself mentioned something to that effect about Shakaar. It turned out to be true, with Shakaar seemingly sleeping with everyone in the cell, man or woman, with the exception of Kira for some reason. He had even made a pass at me, which I had gently shot down having zero interest in men, which he was quite cool about.

Having had only a glimpse of the Bajoran culture in the shows and only having spent a short time with a small sample size of the race so far, I couldn't tell if this libertine sexual attitude was a case of 'let's live today because we may be dead tomorrow' specific to the Resistance, or something common to the Bajoran culture as a whole. There were quite a few Bajoran dabo girls in Quark's bar in the show, after all…

Lupaza was gently rubbing my cock through the fabric of my pants, before she unbuttoned them and pulled down my pants and underwear. My hard cock practically leapt out of my underwear and smacked her in the face, porno-style, which I was rather proud about. Her gasp of surprise was music to my ears.

"By the Prophets!" she whispered huskily. I couldn't see her, but I imagined that there was a look of surprise and appreciation on her face. "Kira, you dirty slut, you've been keeping this monster cock all to yourself! I thought you were kidding about his size!"

So, they had been talking about me. Interesting. Lupaza and I had never been on a mission together before, so this was the longest I'd ever spent with her. I'm pretty sure she was actually in a relatively serious relationship with another member of the Shakaar named Furel, but that didn't seem to stop either one of them from fucking around as much as they wanted. There was something to respect about that, but I knew that I was far too possessive of my women to be cool with that personally. Call me old fashioned, or a prude, I guess.

"I told you when you asked, Lupaza, not my fault that you didn't believe me," Kira responded, the smirk on her face clear to me even though I couldn't actually see it. "And it's not just his size, he knows how to use that thing! He's fucked me literally unconscious!"

"Maybe you just can't handle him, little girl. Maybe he needs a real woman," Lupaza insulted playfully, her hand gently pumping my cock delightfully this entire time. This woman knew how to treat a man right.

"Bitch!" Kira whisper shouted.

"Whore!" Lupaza whisper shouted back, a smile in her tone, though it was pretty clear that these two were very close friends and didn't really mean it. As I recalled from the show, Lupaza had supported a young Kira joining the Resistance in the first place. "I'll make you feel real good, Gothic, far better than she ever could."

Moments later she brought her mouth to my cock and started to take me deep into her mouth, expertly using her mouth and hand in concert. It was incredibly pleasurable.

Yeah, we were on a terrorist mission, about to blow up/attack/rob a supply convoy, and here I was getting a fantastic blowjob. Life was fucking strange these days, but you could never say it was boring.

The next moment I felt another pair of hands on my right take hold of my cock and feeding it into her own mouth. It seemed Lupaza had awakened Kira's competitive streak with that last crack. At this point I would have grabbed them both by the back of their heads and taken control of this encounter, fucking each of their faces in turn to show who was boss, but I still had a job to do so my hands were otherwise occupied holding the binoculars up, continuing to scan the area for any sign of the now very behind schedule supply convoy.

Before long they started to work together, noisily rubbing their spread lips up and down the sides of my cock, Lupaza even reached over to play with my balls. This was lovely. It'd been too long since my last double blowjob on Risa. How had I done without this long? I know, I've been spoiled.

This went on for several minutes before I felt Kira's lips leave my cock and I heard the sound of her belt being undone and pants falling to the floor.

"Oh, you cheater!" Lupaza griped, but I was certain that she was mostly complaining about the fact that she hadn't thought of it first.

I felt Lupaza give me one last hard-as-a-vacuum suck, her mouth coming off the head of my cock with a loud pop, before she pulled back fully and held me straight out and steady before the wet, vice-like grip of Kira's familiar pussy enveloped my cock and she began thrusting her ass back at me to take me fully inside of her. She must have bent herself in half in front of me. Her groans of pleasure were wonderful and the softness of her ass cheeks pressing against me was even better. Luckily, while I couldn't grab those hips and take her to pound town, I could participate more than I had before by thrusting sharply into her. Her attempts to keep quiet as I fucked her were wonderful. Lupaza added to the sheer eroticism of this encounter by sliding underneath us and licking at the point where we were connected. Guess that cleared up whether Kira was into women as she didn't express any shock or surprise.

We fucked for a few minutes more before the universe called for a pause in classic coitus interruptus fashion.

"Spotter 1 to all teams, Spotter 1 to all teams! Supply convoy spotted! Say again, supply convoy spotted! Distance approximately 3 kilometers, moving at high speed," I urgently spoke into the comm device I was wearing as clearly as possible. They were probably moving at 75 mph (120 km/h). "Lead heavy vehicle will be in kill zone in 90 seconds. Stand by to execute."

"I'm going to kill you, Gothic!" Kira whisper shouted before pulling her pussy off my cock with a wet slurp and taking a seat, sans pants, in her chair, putting her phaser rifle to her shoulder and eye to the scope, preparing to kill Cardassians.

Lupaza just laughed and laughed as she got into position and readied her rifle, though that might have been because she still had her pants on.

"How is this my fault?" I asked the room (and the universe) sourly. "Blame the late fucking Cardassians for their shit timing. Evil bastards couldn't even let me cum first."

Kira and Lupaza, thankfully, found that pretty funny if their loud guffaws were any indication. Maybe I'd still have an opportunity to get laid tonight. Well, after we got done killin' some Cardassians.

As I watched the supply convoy near the kill zone, I was mentally calculating the distance and timing necessary to detonate the IED/photon torpedo at just the right moment to destroy the lead heavy vehicle and block the road.

"All teams standby for go. Detonation in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.." I counted down into the comm before I pressed a button and a new miniature sun appeared on Bajor, lighting up the formerly pitch-black night for miles around, rumbling the ground and releasing a giant shockwave of displaced air. It was like an angry God had swatted the lead armored vehicle into the side of the hill, crumpling it like an aluminum can. It was time to do some killing/shopping.

Just another day in the life of a freedom fighter/terrorist.

XXXXX

Lonar Province, Bajor.

Kira narrowed her eyes, a smirk appearing upon her face. Then she looked up from the few cards she held in her hand and she met my eyes with her own.

"Got any threes?" she asked pointedly.

I shook my head.

"Go fish," I replied, with a smirk and a bit of incredulity at just how absurd the situation was. Here I was on, on an alien planet, in 24th century Star Trek, playing Go Fish with a Bajoran Resistance fighter/terrorist. It was a good thing I'd replicated a few necessities before I had been forced to hide my ship in one of the many out of the way hidden caves around Bajor with sensor dampening minerals in the bedrock and walls.

The young Bajoran woman delicately scratched the ridges on her nose, one of the most visible comparative differences between a human and a Bajoran, as she uttered a few curses under her breath. There were certainly some major physiological differences between humans and Bajorans, but those were mostly internal, related to how certain bodily functions were carried out on a micro level, and would require some specialized medical equipment to even detect.

"How can you not have any threes?" she questioned quietly, her doubt clear in her voice, before throwing her cards down on the table. "This game is stupid, Gothic," she whined now.

I grinned as I watched Kira take a new card out of the deck.

"You know, I figured you'd pick up this game pretty quick," I said, trying my hand at a little trash talk. "Hmm, guess I was wrong."

Any game that involved pure skill would be one that I'd win easily given my physical and mental enhancements, at least when facing a normal person, and assuming I had decent experience with the game, but all card games had a not insubstantial element of random chance to them so my victory was never truly assured. Still, there were things I'd much rather be doing with Kira right now, unfortunately we couldn't afford to get too distracted so I let her keep her clothes on. For now.

"Bajor to Gothic," said an annoyed sounding Kira. "It's your move."

I picked up a card and then smiled in triumph, before laying all my cards on the small table that was inside the tent that Kira and I were hiding out in while waiting for our next mission to begin. Just like in my old life in the US military on Earth, even the life of a so called 'terrorist' was filled with a whole lot of 'hurry up and wait.' It was like it was a fundamental truth that transcended time, space, and species.

"Read 'em and weep," I said, chuckling aloud.

I'd won yet again, and this greatly annoyed the Bajoran. Being annoyed seemed to be her default state, at least when I wasn't fucking her to within an inch of her life, then she was as pliable and submissive as a kitten in front of a hungry lion.

"Stupid Terran game," she muttered. "There has to be something else we can do while waiting."

I smiled lecherously at her, hoping to convey just how I wanted to spend our time waiting.

"No, not going to happen Gothic. We can't afford to get distracted by sex," she said with conviction, though I could tell her resolve was paper thin. "At least not again…" she whispered to herself, probably not intending for me to hear that, or see the blush on her face. That was yet another thing I had learned during my time on Bajor, Bajorans blushed just like humans did.

"Well, then I guess it's either card games or counting the rocks around here, my dear," I snarked. Maybe I could still wear her down. Seriously, you're forced to go into battle sniping Cardassians pantsless one fucking time and suddenly you're not allowed to get laid during long waits while on mission. This punishment was cruel and unusual, I tell you!

There wasn't anything worth looking at on this part of the planet, hell, there weren't even any people about aside from the members of the local Resistance cell, who were busy preparing an ambush some distance away. Yet we had to stay here in order to complete our very important mission.

"Fine," Kira replied petulantly. "You deal."

Which is just what I did.

XXXXX

Gul Dukat, the illustrious Prefect of Bajor, was just as bored as a certain Bajoran woman he had no idea even existed. Sadly for him, he had to attend the meeting that they were traveling to in secret, as it was part of his duties to keep the Bajorans under control and keep the shipments of valuable ore and minerals ever flowing to Cardassia.

Those duties meant he had to give the woman he was traveling with his personal protection. It was the only way to keep the woman, who was probably the most important figure in Bajoran politics, alive long enough to get her somewhere safe. Religion and politics were intertwined inexorably on Bajor, especially since his people had come to this world and disrupted their culture, government, and society.

The Bajorans were a highly religious people, quite primitive in that way, but there were some who considered the Kai a traitor to her people, and as such, a viable high value target for assassination, second perhaps only to himself. 'Collaborator' was the word or insult that he had heard cried out on more than one occasion to describe her. That term was rather pragmatic in its own right, having it applied to a Bajoran meant the Resistance, as the pathetic terrorists laughingly called themselves, would have absolutely no problem killing that person, regardless of species. The ruthless pragmatism behind it was almost Cardassian in application and thus something to be admired and respected.

Kai Opaka was a decent enough Bajoran in his humble opinion, one who despised violence, yet possessed an ability to see reason, to recognize the cold hard facts of any situation, and thus was imminently practical as a leader, no matter how ruthlessly that practicality was applied. She was one of those extremely rare examples of Bajoran in that way. If Dukat could convince her that one action over another would result in fewer deaths for her people, she would take it under serious consideration, then ultimately decide to agree on that course of action, as she was able to put her feelings aside when she needed to.

Dukat greatly appreciated reasonable minds like hers in the Bajorans. They were in far too short a supply and hers was more than worth protecting. In fact, she was more than worth the inconvenience and trouble involved in personally moving her to the secret safe house where his people would be able to keep the Kai safe until the important meeting started.

The province they were in now was an unused stretch of desolate landscape, devoid of anything of value or much of a local population at all, like so much of Bajor these days. There were some unconfirmed reports of Resistance activity in the area, but it was nothing an armed convoy like this one couldn't handle should a local terrorist cell get any stupid ideas. It would be the last idea they ever had.

Traveling on these back roads in an unimportant looking transport was a security measure that Dukat himself had decided upon. Another convoy, one much more noticeable and even better protected, was taking a quicker and more direct route to the safe house. It would prove a far more tempting target than this unassuming convoy should the Resistance have even heard of this VIP transport mission.

Dukat would have very much liked to have moved the Kai to Terok Nor long ago, permanently, to avoid all this trouble and inconvenience. Though they had moved her many times in the past without any incident to speak of, she would be much safer on the station as the Resistance was having a much harder time gaining a foothold in the orbiting ore processing station. This was something Dukat saw as a result of his own good administration and counterintelligence efforts.

So far, he had been completely unsuccessful in convincing the woman to make the move, but he was a patient man by nature. It was a virtue that many in the Cardassian military lacked he felt, but one that had served him well throughout his distinguished career and had led to his current highly sought after posting administering an entire world, one that the Cardassian Union was profiting greatly by holding. The Kai was a reasonable woman, she would come around eventually.

Still, that didn't stop him from suggesting the move yet again as the convoy made its way down a dusty stretch of desolate road. It'd be something to pass the time at least. Arguing, like lying, needed to be regularly practiced to stay sharp at.

"Kai Opaka, can I prevail upon you once again to reconsider my offer for a home on Terok Nor?" Dukat asked. "You would be much safer in orbit with me and risky convoys like this would be unnecessary. I assure you, your every need would be taken care of and you would be able to guide your fellow Bajorans just as well there as you could here."

"My people need me here, Prefect," Kai Opaka answered, in that calm and condescending voice that he had tried to unsuccessfully copy with his own subordinates. "Taking me up into space isn't going to help anyone. It will only cause more unrest and disharmony on Bajor. My people need me here, on the planet."

The Prefect didn't agree, and he argued his case.

"I am not sure how else to explain this to you, your holiness," Dukat said, trying to keep his frustration out of his of voice as best he could. "You will be far safer on Terok Nor then you will ever be here on Bajor. Do you understand that, Eminence? Many of your people want you dead."

It would not only be safer for her, it'd be safer for him, as they could just use the station's transporters whenever they needed to get to important meetings on the planet, such as the one that they were due at soon. Yet Kai Opaka insisted that she not leave Bajor's soil and wouldn't even let an orbiting ship move her from one place to another on the planet. Unfortunately, her influence was such that he was forced to respect her wishes.

On the station she'd also be much closer to the Prefect should he have use for her. Not all of the rebels actually wanted the Kai dead, and most of the common people still admired, respected, and listened to her to a good degree, so they were less likely to attack the station if she was onboard it. That served his purposes. His personal survival was always near the top of his priorities.

"If my people would find some measure of peace with my death, then I will welcome it when the Prophets call me home. I am prepared to stand before the Prophets with an open heart, eager to accept their judgment, whatever it may be. But while I still draw breath, my destiny is here and I cannot leave Bajor," the Kai insisted in that infuriatingly kind and calm voice. "My people need me. I am a symbol. You know this."

He did know that, it's exactly why he wanted her close and was willing to even respect her choice in the first place, but it didn't change how he felt on the matter.

"A symbol that we keep underground and under heavy guard," Dukat countered. "I am not sure how you being here does any good for your people in the slightest."

He really didn't understand why she couldn't continue to be a symbol for her people while up in orbit and thus firmly under his control.

"You still do not understand," Kai Opaka said sadly, as she closed her eyes and shook her head in a disappointed fashion, as if she pitied him and his lack of understanding. "My people would know that I had been taken off Bajor. They would feel it in their Pah."

Feel it in their pahs? Their souls? What a load of primitive religious drivel. That goes to show just how primitive these people still were and how much they continue to benefit from his kind, patient, and gentle stewardship.

Dukat leaned back and decided to remain silent for now. He could never have a proper talk with the woman when she brought up her people's religious practices.

XXXXX

"There's a 'Mad Max' style convoy heading our way," I quietly reported to Kira, watching the vehicles from several miles away with my Cardassian binoculars.

We'd left the tent and were now lying prone, flat on our stomachs on the dusty ground, surrounded by cover in the form of sparse vegetation, in order to avoid being seen as we watched the road that our target was supposed to travel according to the Resistance's intelligence network. According to them a high-level Cardassian officer was traveling this route to get to an important meeting. Beyond that they had no idea, though they had found out a good deal of resources had been spent hiding this fact. The authorizations had come straight from the top. Secret transport operation this might have been, but the requisition process was a way of life for the Cardassians.

I'd been expecting a large convoy of Cardassian military vehicles, similar to the level of protection that had accompanied that supply shipment we'd hit, but what I saw looked far rougher than that. How important could this officer really be? So, either the target wasn't nearly as important as Resistance intelligence thought he was, or Dukat was trying to be sneaky with the security he'd arranged for this particular officer.

I suppose the convoy could be trying to seem unimportant as a disguise, to make it less tempting a target for anyone, 'security through obscurity' as it were. It was a tactic as old as the hills, even in my time, but if done right it was a clever one and often very effective. It was especially effective against the Resistance whose intelligence network was pretty rudimentary, at best, with very limited resources for intelligence gathering and ultimately the ability to act at all on that intelligence, though they were getting better and better every day. Recruitment was way up as of late.

"Mad Max?" Kira replied quietly, turning her head to look at me quizzically from where she was lying prone next to me.

It would take way too long to explain, with Prophets knew how many things I'd have to explain from Earth's past and culture for it to even make a tiny bit of sense. And who knew if the film had even survived to this time anyway? So many other things hadn't.

"Not important," I said. "Come on, we've got work to do."

I gestured for Kira to follow as I started slowly crawling backwards away from the small perch which had given us a view of the road. We'd meet up with fighters from the local Resistance cell who would be working with us on this mission. We still had a mission to complete and limited time to do it in.

XXXXX

"Prefect, the forward scouts are returning," a voice reported over the encrypted comm system.

Dukat ignored the silent, serene contemplation of the Kai and paid attention to the communication device he had strapped to his wrist.

"Understood," Dukat answered, having brought his wrist to his mouth to speak into the device. "Estimated time until they arrive?"

"They should be here in-"

This was when the Prefect of Bajor knew that something was wrong. His second in command was not one to fail to give a clear and complete report when ordered to. He was too professional a soldier for that.

"No. Something is wrong," the voice over the comm said hesitantly.

"Explain yourself. Now, Damar!" Dukat demanded.

Turning quickly to look out the tinted, reinforced transparent aluminum window for himself, all Dukat could see were rocks, rocks, and more rocks. Which gave him no clue as to what was happening. Inside the cab all there was to see was the Kai, who had shifted slightly in her seat as if she too felt something was about to happen.

"Only one of the scout transports is returning, sir!" came Damar's reply.

This was not good news and Dukat was becoming worried. It was possible the Resistance had learned that this was the true convoy. Still, he knew what to do. He switched to a channel that the entire convoy would hear.

"This is Dukat, go to high alert and realign to a defensive formation," he ordered, "and then come to a stop when we've reached a defensible location."

The vehicles all eased to a halt after moving into the right places. This formation was designed to keep the precious cargo, which was the Bajoran woman, and even more importantly, himself, defended at all costs. It would be an unmitigated disaster if the Kai was killed while under his personal protection. That he had killed her himself would undoubtedly be the opinion of all of Bajor, no matter what he said, and the planet would quickly descend into chaos. The Resistance's recruitment efforts would become incredibly easy after that and he already had enough problems with them as it was. The large supply shipment they'd managed to take a few months ago was testament to just how daring they'd become of late. Any why not, they'd succeeded after all. The summary executions he'd ordered in the area as punishment hadn't even affected the group's positive reputation with the Bajoran people.

Something had fundamentally changed with the group. They were becoming far more organized, far more ruthless, their tactics and strategies more refined and complex. And he had no idea why. The improvement was coming too quickly for it to be natural.

"Remain here," Dukat ordered the Kai.

Opaka seemed amused.

"Of course. Where else would I go?" she replied.

"Damar, I'm exiting," he said moments before he got out.

Dukat was sure that she knew something that he didn't, but he didn't have time to find out what that was as he had work to do. The business of survival was a full-time job.

Once he left the safety of the transport the Prefect of Bajor was soon accompanied by two of his personal guard who carried rifles at the ready, one in front and one behind him, both constantly scanning the nearby area for targets. He drew his own pistol in response, which was set to kill. At this point the Prefect could see one of the two scout vehicles, ones he had sent to scout the road ahead for dangers, rapidly approaching the convoy, looking as if it had been repeatedly fired upon.

The vehicle came to a quick stop in front of them, sending rocks and dust from the road flying, and a heavily bleeding Cardassian soldier got out.

"We were attacked, sir!" The scout explained once he was close enough for Dukat to hear. "Our external comms were damaged in the fight!"

The scout looked Cardassian, but the Gul wasn't taking any chances.

"Codes!" Dukat shouted back, preparing to give the order to gun these fools down. "Now!"

The scout gave the correct authentication codes and Dukat relaxed, but only slightly. If the man was acting under duress, he would have given a completely different set of codes to let the Gul know what had happened.

"Where is the rest of your squad?" Dukat questioned.

The scout grimaced at this and pressed a button on his wrist communicator. From the back of his transport came four other Cardassian soldiers, along with two badly battered Bajoran prisoners, who had obviously been beaten while under their custody. The scout transports didn't normally carry that many soldiers so Dukat figured that the extra men were the survivors from the scout vehicle that had been too damaged to return on its own power.

"Approach!" Dukat ordered.

The group started towards the convoy at his order, each Bajoran prisoner having two guards with them as they limped and stumbled closer.

They stopped a few feet away from the convoy and Dukat and his entourage closed the distance. The two Bajorans were forced to their knees in front of the Gul.

Now that he was closer Dukat could see that they were both trembling with fear, the one on the right trying to keep a brave face while the other appeared to be about to burst into tears at any moment.

"Report," Dukat demanded from the scout, while not taking his eyes off the prisoners or his hand off his weapon.

His order was quickly obeyed.

"We were moving to the north, scouting the path ahead for the convoy, when the second scout transport was hit without warning by some sort of heavy weapon that I've never seen before. It was a directed energy weapon of great power, obviously designed to destroy or disable armored vehicles. Because the other vehicle was hit and blocking the road, we were forced to stop. Then we were hit from behind by these Bajoran terrorists with light arms. Several of the surviving men from the first vehicle gave their lives covering our escape so that we could report the danger ahead," the scout explained.

The Prefect was rather concerned by this news.

"And who gave the order to take prisoners?" Dukat asked.

This was a delicate and secret mission. The last thing they needed were prisoners. Was this just bad luck? The local Resistance cell attacking a target of opportunity? Or had they found out the true purpose of this convoy? The presence of such an advanced weapon suggested the latter. The Bajoran resistance intelligence apparatus was getting better and better at their craft as time went on. Necessity was a harsh mistress, but she taught her lessons well and the rebels were learning fast.

"That would be me, sir," the scout replied, while looking overly confident and sure of himself, like so many of the young Cardassian soldiers when they first arrived on Bajor. "I believed that they may have valuable information."

"Fellow soldiers were dying to cover your retreat, yet you took the time to take prisoners?" Dukat asked, barely resisting the urge to sneer at these poor examples of his race.

Dukat highly doubted that even if they did have information that they'd have the time to properly extract it in a field interrogation, but he still looked back at the pair of Bajorans prisoners and focused on the Bajoran on the right. She was a female with short hair and hate filled eyes; he'd seen many of this world's people look at him with eyes like that, unable to see how much he had protected and nurtured the Bajoran people when someone else would have been so much worse. They were the eyes of a true fanatic, and one of the reasons why the Resistance was so very dangerous and effective, as he'd reported back to the Central Command on several occasions. Those who weren't completely blinded by the propaganda or beliefs in the Cardassian race's inherent superiority could easily see just how dangerous people like this truly were and why he feared for Cardassian dominance on the planet in the years to come.

"Tell me," Dukat ordered. "Where did you get your hands on such an advanced weapon?"

While not lacking in fanaticism, the rebels barely had enough weapons to arm their fighters, and while they were known to use crude, but effective homemade explosives, that wasn't what the scout had reported them employing to disable the first scout vehicle. The last several months had been filled with reports from the field describing increasingly bold and well-armed Resistance attacks, carried out with more than just captured Cardassian weapons. Federation, Romulan, and Klingon weapons of excellent quality and make had been taken from the Resistance's dead fighters. Subsequent analysis had conclusively shown that these weapons, rather than being the real thing made by those respective species/governments, had been merely extremely well-made copies, but that was little comfort to the Cardassian soldiers these mere copies had killed.

Where was this influx of high-quality weapons suddenly coming from? The black market was the obvious answer, but how could the Resistance even afford them? Unfortunately, he didn't have the answer, nor how even more advanced weapons were somehow making their way into the hands of the Resistance as of late, and not knowing troubled him nearly as much as the rebels having such weapons and using them to kill his people in the first place. Because those same weapons could be used to kill him. As much as it pained him, he had asked the Obsidian Order to investigate the matter, but had been told the Federation War and the increasing instability in the Klingon Empire took precedence.

"Tell me and I won't hand you over to be interrogated," Dukat mercifully offered.

The female Bajoran shifted slightly and muttered something under her breath. Dukat leaned in closer to hear better.

"I'm sorry, I could not hear you."

The Bajoran looked up into Dukat's face and then spat in it.

"I said rot in hell, Cardie scum!'" the female shouted, her face contorted into a mask of hate and rage. "Bajor will be free of all of your kind one day!"

"Perhaps, but you will not be alive to see it," he answered, while cleaning his face.

Dukat pulled himself up to his full height and sighed dramatically as he raised his pistol to the woman's head and with no fanfare or hesitation, promptly shot her in the forehead with a ruby red beam of destructive energy. The terrorist fell dead instantly, like a great God had cut her strings.

"The only mercy I can offer you is a quick death," Dukat said compassionately to the remaining Bajoran who was now having a full-blown panic attack. This man was definitely the weak link and exactly the reason why he had questioned the woman first. There was little he was going to get out of a true fanatic like that in an impromptu field interrogation, he had determined that with just one look at her.

Then he lined up the weapon on the second Bajoran's head hoping to get a last second call to 'wait!' before he gave up whatever information he knew. The man only had a second left to live, supposedly, when a full power phaser blast hit one of the Cardassians near Dukat right in the chest, practically burning a six-inch-wide hole straight through the man, killing him instantly.

Dukat and his men quickly moved to what little cover was available nearby while trying to locate the sniper, but even after a second phaser bolt hit and killed another Cardassian they couldn't pinpoint the sniper's location. So instead they just fired into the countryside and hoped to get lucky.

Frantically he activated the communicator on his wrist while yelling into it, "Dukat to Terok Nor, emergency beam out! Say again, emergency beam out!" He called for escape was met only with static.

That was when things went from bad to worse for them. Rapid white colored energy blasts filled the air as a figure in black clothing appeared out of nowhere and started shooting everyone in sight, his body moving so quickly, fluidly, and gracefully that it looked as if he was dancing. Darting in and between his soldiers' positions, several of his men killed each other accidentally in their panicked, desperate attempts to survive. The rest were gunned down with ruthless precision and efficiency by the weapon in the man's left hand. Some were even beheaded or cut into two pieces with a primitive sword held in the man's right hand. All the while that damn sniper continued to kill his men who tried to take cover or escape the situation, all their attention on the monster in their midst.

"No, please, please, no! I surrender! I sur-" one of his men begged for his life pitifully before he heard the horrible sound of steel parting flesh and two separate thuds hitting the ground.

Dukat fearfully ducked behind one of the transports as more and more of the men under his command were killed. Then he saw this blood-soaked monster clearly. At first, he thought it was a Bajoran, only it wasn't.

Far quicker than he could have imagined possible given the highly trained men he'd brought with him, only the best of the best forming his personal guard, there was only terrible, terrible, silence.

When the figure acrobatically jumped to an impossible height and landed both gracefully and near soundlessly on top of one of the transports, like it was the easiest thing in the world to do, he saw that this monster was human, only he was far too fast to be someone from Earth and far, far too ruthless to be someone from Starfleet. The man was covered from head to toe in Cardassian blood.

Starfleet Officers used phasers only, and very rarely were they ever set on anything other than stun. And they never used blades. He knew this as he had fought humans from the Federation a few times before during various border skirmishes over the years.

Dukat wasn't a coward, but he certainly wasn't stupid either, he knew when it was time to run and save his own skin. Getting away from this monster as quickly and quietly as possible was the best way to do that. Unfortunately, he didn't get very far, as he was shot in the back before he got more than a few meters away.

XXXXX

"Why didn't you kill him?" Kira asked in confusion, after she had come down from her sniper perch and caught up with me. I had already gone around once more and head shot each one of the men on the ground to make sure that they were well and truly dead and not just wounded or faking, well, assuming they still had a head. If I had already cut their head off with my sword I was reasonably confident that they were already dead and didn't need me to make sure.

I stood still over the unconscious form of Dukat, staring down at his crumpled and awkwardly splayed body, his face in the dirt. His chest was still rising and falling and Kira had spotted that immediately. You didn't survive in the Resistance all that long if you left live enemies at your back.

I had my reasons for sparing him, though I couldn't exactly share most of them with her.

"That is Dukat," I told her calmly and quietly, never taking my eyes off of Dukat, the only Cardassian I had spared. "The Prefect of Bajor himself. If we kill him they'll just send someone else, someone who may want to prove themselves and make things so much worse. Leaving him to be found surrounded by the dead bodies of his men will send a far more effective message."

We were, after all, just terrorists in their view and terrorists used fear as a weapon. I wanted Dukat to fear the rebels. To know in his black heart that he had been an inch away from death and had been either spared purposefully or simply on a whim. The possibility that his soldiers might think that he'd sacrificed everyone else to save his own skin was also a good potential outcome, hopefully creating dissension in the ranks and potentially seeing some damning reports being sent home to the Cardassian government.

These were all good and valid reasons for what had initially stayed my hand, but did I really want to live my life in this dimension afraid to mess with the events that I knew were coming? Foreknowledge was a powerful thing, but did I want to follow the script that closely? This was an AU Star Trek dimension anyway, why not really send us flying off the path of canon and affirm my free will.

It would be so easy to kill the man right now, right here in this moment. His death could arguably/possibly even prevent the Cardassians from joining with the Dominion in the years to come. How many lives could I save by just raising my hand, pressing the trigger, and putting a few phaser bolts into his evil skull? Of course, it could also make things a thousand/million times worse, but if I started thinking like that then I'd be paralyzed and do nothing at all, too afraid to act.

Fuck it, I decided. The future could sort itself out all by itself, I thought, before I raised my hand and was about to pull the trigger when I felt a vast powerful presence around me that stilled my hand. I thought that I had been the only one to feel it before I saw that Kira had dropped to her knees, staring skyward in adoration and devotion, her hands up and raised in a position of supplication and prayer. Her Federation type 3 compression phaser rifle unceremoniously dropped in the dirt.

So, the Prophets had chosen to speak up, after all.

It was an interesting experience. Unfortunately, it lacked the direct communication quality that Sisko had enjoyed in the shows. No heartbeat sound, no red tinged memories, no Prophets taking on faces familiar to me to directly communicate in semi-cryptic riddles. If I had to guess, it was probably because I wasn't part Prophet, not currently in the wormhole/Celestial Temple, and more than likely a form of communication with my soul that my mysterious patron had created defenses for, to prevent other high-level beings from interfering with their fun.

No, I got the distinct feeling of a great and powerful presence surrounding me and an impression. No words were shared, but I had the feeling, and I don't even know how I knew that, that while I wasn't being stopped, the Prophets would prefer Dukat remain alive for now. It was a request from them to me, or perhaps asking for a favor would be more accurate, one that I would be rewarded for doing. I could ignore their request, sure, but bad things would come of it. I had a feeling that they could sense I wasn't exactly a native of this universe.

As quickly as the feeling came, it was suddenly gone. The Prophets had said their piece and now it was up to me to make a decision. Kira was still out of it, but was looking deliriously happy. Could I blame her? She had just felt the tangible presence of her Gods. That was sure to make anyone a little out of it.

It only took a moment or two of intense mental debate before I lowered my hand and holstered my weapon. When aliens that could perceive the past, present, and future simultaneously asked for a favor, it was probably a good idea to listen. Their intervention had saved Bajor in the end and had ultimately led to a great outcome for its people, comparatively speaking. The possibility of being rewarded by these God-like beings, well, that didn't hurt either.

With my decision made, I decided to play devil's advocate as if no God-like beings had weighed in and influenced my final decision. Dukat would play a significant role in a lot of very important future events, so if I killed him now those events would be different than what I was expecting, which didn't serve my interests, as knowing the future was a powerful advantage. I wasn't opposed to changing things up here and there, going 'off script' as it were, but the benefit had to be there and the benefit of staying the course had risen exponentially. Bajor would win its independence in a few short years anyway. A new Prefect with a chip on his shoulder and a need to prove himself might even delay the end of the Occupation.

Leaving him alive, though, didn't mean I couldn't leave him a reminder of this day. He was a very, very evil man after all.

"My people have a saying, 'better the devil you know, than the devil you don't,'" I said, hoping to convey that killing Dukat now would not be in Bajor's best interests long-term, hoping she'd see the wisdom of that. Dukat was, at least, a known quantity, though convincing her was probably entirely unnecessary at this point, now that the Prophets had essentially stayed our hands. "That said, we don't have to leave him totally unscathed. I have an idea," I said wickedly, a bloodthirsty smile on my face, before pulling out my combat knife.

Merely scarring Gul Dukat would be pointless as they could easily remove scars using their medical technology; I was sure I remembered seeing a Cardassian do that in a DS9 episode. However, replacing an eye when the eye socket and optic nerves were messily destroyed was something else altogether.

"Oh Prophets!" Kira shouted out, looking like she was about to vomit as I did my gruesome work.

Watching me cut out one of the man's eyes and digging around enough to destroy the nerves shocked her greatly. For a terrorist, she had a good heart. She was a skilled sniper and had killed many Cardassians today while I did my thing, but she didn't delight in causing pain or making it as bloody as she could. That was good, she'd be able to transition far easier to peacetime after the Occupation ended than those I'd seen in the Resistance who'd given in fully to their bloodlust and need for vengeance. Those types would find it incredibly hard to give up the adrenaline rush of war. I'd seen it many times before in my old life. War was a drug.

"Come on we have to go," I said once I was done remodeling Dukat's face and crushing his eye beneath my foot, his eye popping like a wet grape. I was mightily tempted to do something like carving a swastika in his forehead or something silly like that. It lacked a certain visceral shared meaning in a galactic community where it would require a historical database search and reading multiple historical texts to learn the meaning of it and how it applied to Dukat. "Someone might have gotten a distress signal off before the jamming was activated."

Without argument, which made for a nice change, Kira and I, along with the cowardly rebel that we'd managed to save from execution, raced off towards the hills, but not before we quickly filled up two large, empty, heavy duty duffel bags with the dead soldiers' phaser rifles, pistols, communicators, pocket latinum, and just about anything else that could be carried and looked semi-useful or valuable. Everything would be put to good use in our struggle against the Cardassians.

Re-appropriating Cardassian weapons and technology was kind of the bread and butter of a resource scarce Terrorist movement after all. Waste not, want not. Sure, Section 31 was clandestinely supplying a shit ton of high-quality arms to the Resistance, but every little bit helped.

As we quickly departed from the combat zone, I glanced back at the transport Dukat had ridden in, wondering who was in there that the Prophets wanted kept safe.

XXXXX

Temple. Bajor.

Mere months after joining the Bajoran Resistance one of the holy orders had asked for me by name and had requested that I come and visit them. This had been quite a surprise since Shaakar, the leader of the cell I'd joined, had wanted to hide my involvement with the rebels. Obviously that wasn't exactly going to plan for him if they knew me by freaking name. In the short-term this made things more dangerous for me, especially since I'd allowed Dukat to live after seeing some of my skills and the Cardassians were now likely all aware of me, or at least that a human with unusual abilities had joined the Resistance. In the long-term, though, it'd pay huge dividends, of that I was sure.

Now I was in a temple being guided by a Bajoran Vedek into a secret room, one that was kept safe behind a force field and a very high-quality holographic illusion. Who knew where they had gotten that bit of technology?

The Vedek had already explained why the force field and hologram were in place, so there was no need to inquire about that. However, there was something I had to ask.

"Why are you trying to keep the existence of the artifact secret?" I wondered.

As soon as the words had left my mouth I realized what a silly question that was. The Cardassians were plundering this world for all it was worth, of course they'd take every cultural treasure they could find as well. Sometimes, I think they took shit just to spite the Bajorans. That was the kind of vindictive shit the Cardassians routinely pulled.

"Because not everybody finds ancient Bajoran artifacts as intriguing as I do," answered the amused holy man, whose name I had forgotten to ask for. "There are those who would see it as a symbol of everything they both hate and do not understand about us, the Bajorans and their fictitious Prophets, and may even try to destroy it out of spite, simply to deprive the Bajoran people of it for all time."

I assumed he meant the Cardassians, as that sounded exactly like something they'd do.

"It seems remarkably well hidden," I complimented.

Technology like that was hard to come by on Bajor; they had expended a lot of resources on its protection, although nothing was ever completely secure.

"We'd rather not take any chances," the holy man said. "That is why I may soon request that you take it far away from Bajor."

Upon hearing that I stopped in my tracks, completely shocked.

"You want me to take it away?" I questioned incredulously.

I could do it, of course, at least get it off the planet more easily than just about anyone else, but I had no idea where I would take the thing to keep it safe. I could hand it over to Section 31 for safekeeping, I suppose, it'd certainly be safe with them, but I wasn't sure if they'd ever give it back. That was a very distinct and likely possibility, especially once the Prophets were proven to be very real in a few short years' time. Was this the Prophets doing me a favor? Or me doing another one for them? Who could tell with higher dimensional beings?

"Perhaps," the Bajoran Vedek replied, "we shall see what the Prophets have planned."

Then I saw it, a golden triangular box that was sitting at head-height on top of a decorative stand. It looked normal enough, but I oddly felt drawn to it, before I recognized it for what it really was.

"An Orb of the Prophets," I whispered, in awe at the sight of something I knew from the shows to be incredibly powerful and mysterious. Life sure was strange.

The Bajoran Vedek went and stood by the object.

"Open it," he urged gently.

Reaching forward slowly I lifted the catch and opened the two hinged doors of the box outward. Inside was a beautiful, shimmering structure, shooting out arcs of light and energy randomly. It was shaped a little like a floating, rotating hourglass made of energy, but much bigger. It gave off a greenish-white light which was almost mesmerizing in the way it shimmered, drawing your eyes in gently.

"It's so beautiful," I whispered, unable and unwilling to take my eyes off of it.

That was when the greenish-white light reached out to me, filling my vision, and I felt myself being taken away.

XXXXX

Deep Space Nine. Bajor System.

The next thing I knew I was seemingly walking down Terok Nor's Promenade along with a group of people. I had to stop and look around before I realized just where I was…or when I was.

No, instead of hundreds of Cardassian soldiers walking about, keeping Bajoran slave labor in check, I instead saw many Federation officers and Bajorans in the familiar militia uniform from the show going about their day. There were no Cardassians in sight, no ghetto, no fences, no Bajoran slave labor, just people from many different races calmly going about their daily business on what was obviously Deep Space 9 now.

Then I saw myself in the reflective surface of an inactive display, and I was completely shocked by what I saw, but damn if I didn't look fucking amazing! I was in some kind of advanced skintight body armor from my neck down to my toes, but much more sophisticated than anything I'd ever seen before, including my current armor. The surface of the armor almost appeared fluidic in the way it was slightly changing color, though I doubt anyone without enhanced sight would have noticed. Was this some kind of adaptive camouflage? Where had it come from?! There also appeared to be an unusual bulge in the neck piece, in a complete circle around my head.

Had I finally figured out how to build in a retractable head piece? An integrated head piece could protect me from getting spaced or gassed, something my personal shield couldn't deal with. If this thing had an independent air supply and recycler, then I wouldn't have to worry about that either. I also seemed to have rank insignia on the collar and a Bajoran style comm badge, though I had no idea what rank it was since I'd never seen it on the show. It looked impressive though.

Looking at my arms, I saw that I had badass looking vambraces covering my forearms, with some kind of technology seamlessly built in, near the left wrist. Grieves and armored boots were worn, with again, some kind of technology that I had no idea the function of. Maybe a jump assist thruster or something for fast movement? I had never even considered something like that before!

On my right hip was a magnetically attached quick draw holster with an energy pistol I'd never seen the like of before. It looked completely custom. Had I designed that? It looked very practical, but also elegant, with very sexy lines. Could a weapon look sexy?

On my left hip was a wicked looking and longish combat knife, reminiscent of my current blade, but with some kind of button actuator on the grip. Had I finally figured out how to make a knife with a plasma edge in the future? It wasn't a light saber, but I bet it would cut through most things.

I felt a weight on my back, so I turned to the side slightly and saw that I had a badass looking X-shaped magnetic harness, obviously custom made, containing two weapons. Closest to my back was a really deadly looking sword, its grip reaching up and over my right shoulder for a quick draw. The sword, like the combat knife, had an actuator of some sort built in. The other weapon in the harness was a bad-ass looking energy rifle that I'd never seen the like of before. There were some more gizmos on my person, some built into my armor, but I had no idea what they did. One of them was probably my personal shield, I think, but radically redesigned to better integrate into the armor's systems. It looked like it belonged, rather than an add on piece of tech.

Actually, I had a few suspicions as to what some of these gizmos were, but they were things that were only vague ideas at the moment, stuff that I had been toying with in my head for a while, but was nowhere near ready to actually build. There was a whole lot of holographic design, tweaking and kinks to work through before even thinking about producing what I suspected I now carried. I was relatively sure some of this tech was beyond Federation science altogether and represented quite a breakthrough.

"I wish you'd have given me a little more warning," Kira admonished quietly from beside me.

She was walking beside me, her eyes constantly scanning the crowd around her. She didn't look directly at me as she spoke, and her voice was pitched low, as if she was worried about being overheard.

Also, she looked older, in the sense that she'd finished growing up and looked damn good in my opinion, maybe even having used Federation medical technology to heal the malnutrition of her youth. Her hair was longer than before and she wore rank pins that told me that she was a Major in the Bajoran militia. I remembered her hair being short in the early seasons of DS9 so I had to wonder why it wasn't short. I didn't like short hair on women so perhaps she'd grown it out just for me? That was a nice thought.

"The Kai is already here. I swear she somehow knew that you were coming before even I did. No one from the Provisional government could be called up from Bajor at such short notice," Kira told me.

For some reason we were attracting a hell of a lot of attention, but they weren't looking directly at me, though a fair number of people were looking at me with respect and gratitude in their eyes. That was when I realized that I was holding an Orb, judging by the casing. In fact, I was almost certain that it was the very same one that I'd looked at just before this whacked out vision had started.

"This is so freaking cool!" I said with a huge smile. It was just like the show!

Kira gave me an annoyed look, apparently she was going to keep doing that even in the future.

"You could have called me, you know," she grumbled. "Showing up at the station a day early, with an Orb of all things in your possession?"

The Bajoran security officers led us on through the Promenade and into the station's Bajoran shrine.

"Kai Opaka," greeted Kira warmly as we entered, a genuine smile on her face. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."

At least it wasn't that horrible Kai Wynn woman yet, the one that started worshipping the Pah Wraiths, or whatever it was they were called.

Then I realized that if Kai Opaka was still here than that meant my presence had changed the timeline a bit. Didn't she go and never return from that mission with Sisko during early Season 1? Eh, whatever, I'd figure it out.

"It was no problem at all, my child," the Kai replied. "This is far more important than yet another meeting with the Vedek Assembly."

The holy woman then turned to me.

"Welcome back to Bajor, General Gothic," she greeted warmly, giving me a smile.

I subtly looked around while wondering who she was talking to, but I soon figured out that she was talking to me! Had I seriously been offered and accepted a place in the Bajoran militia? And as a General? That was a very high rank to give to a non-Bajoran. Fuck, if that wasn't going to change things in the future in ways both big and small. I must have been given the rank for my work aiding the Resistance. It also explained why my armor had rank insignia that I hadn't seen before.

"Thank you," I replied, trying to seem like I was exactly who I said I was.

The Kai looked me in the eyes for a moment and then smiled wider, as if in realization. For a second I wondered if she knew that I wasn't the Gothic who was supposed to be here in this time. But this was just a vision, right? I wasn't actually here. Or was I? This was so freaking confusing. Was I inhabiting the body of my future self?

"Is this the Orb?" she asked.

I lifted the box.

"Yes," I answered plainly.

I then placed the gold, three-sided container on the table and stepped back to allow the Kai, and the two Vedeks with her, access to the Orb. One of the Vedeks brought out some sort of obviously Bajoran designed scanner and waved it around the gold box several times.

"It is genuine," the man said after a minute of scanning.

This I knew for certain, having used it to get here, across time and space. Whether that was physically or in spirit form was still very much up for debate.

"Did you think he'd bring you a fake Orb?" Kira asked indignantly.

She was offended. Very much so in fact. Our relationship must still be pretty damn good in the future for her to be defending me like that from a Vedek of all people. That was nice to hear. The question was was I still boning her to within an inch of her life? Maybe at the same time as Dax? I was perfectly happy with that possibility! Oh shit, would Dax even be stationed on DS9 this time around? She was posted on the Enterprise right now, the flagship of the fleet, and that was a very prestigious posting, she might not want to come to a frontier space station like Bajor that had zero importance or significance. Well, at least until they discovered the wormhole.

"We determine the authenticity of all recovered artifacts touched by the Prophets, regardless of whether they are Orbs or not, or whom they come from," the Vedek explained calmly, seemingly unoffended by her words or tone.

I wondered how he did that, so I decided to find out.

"I'm curious," I said. "How do you determine the authenticity of an Orb?"

Well, I knew of one way.

"The Orbs are sent to us by the Prophets themselves. As such they show traces of radiation only found in the Celestial Temple," the Kai explained in answer.

I knew that that was the Bajoran name for the wormhole, where the aliens known as the Prophets lived. It was in a place where the laws of physics, as we mere mortals knew them, did not apply. Time was not linear for the Prophets either, which made them very hard to understand by those species limited to an existence governed by linear time.

"Long ago we learned of ways to detect that radiation," the Kai explained, "and thus determine whether an item had truly been sent to us by the Prophets."

I was impressed to learn that a religious group was willing to use such blatantly scientific methods to determine what was and was not 'holy.' Normally people just had to take it on faith, and therefore could be fooled. I supposed it helped that their Gods were real and willing to send powerful and tangible artifacts to their chosen people.

"Which Orb is this?" Kira asked, her intense curiosity getting the better of her. She was probably incredibly excited to even be allowed near an orb like this. It was a rare opportunity.

I saw her eyes lingering on the golden box with equal parts longing and wariness. Did she want to open it, to find out what wisdom the Prophets might choose to offer her, to feel their presence one more time? It seemed that she did and I could understand that. To so directly interact with your Gods would have to be a transformative experience. Even my brief brush with them had left its mark.

"This is the Orb of Guidance," the Vedek with the hood still on said.

I'd not realized this until he'd spoken, but the second Vedek was the same man who had shown me the Orb in the first place. I'd met him for the first-time mere moments ago, from my perspective, so I instantly recognized his voice.

"The Orb will stay where it can be kept safe, until we can return it to Bajor," the Kai said.

With those words the two Vedeks took the Orb into the next room, one that was dimly lit by lights sitting behind wall panels which were adorned with ancient Bajoran insignia. Thick, scented candles were flickering happily to one side of a shrine adorned with an ornate gong. Maybe it was my imagination but they seemed to burn a little brighter now, as if they were welcoming the Orb into their presence. The golden box was placed into the shrine, where it sat as if it had lived there always, a powerful force field springing up moments later.

"Stay with the general," the Kai said to the hooded Vedek. "I will give you a few moments of privacy to speak."

I was left alone with the holy man. As soon as everyone else was gone he lowered his hood to show his face, which confirmed that he was the same man who had shown me the orb back in the past. Oddly enough, his presence here didn't even surprise me for some reason.

"You have questions about your Orb experience?" the man asked me.

Indeed, I did.

"How do you know that I'm having an Orb experience right now?" I asked.

If he knew who I was then that might mean this wasn't just a vision of the future. It meant that I was actually IN the future, and my mind was in my future self's body. It was trippy, and super cool. I suppose that explained why some things I'd seen in my reflection earlier, like the technology on my boots or the adaptive camouflage of my armor, were things I'd never even considered before. In other words, what I saw here wasn't dependent on ideas that I'd already had or the knowledge I currently possessed; it existed independently of my knowledge.

"I wouldn't be a very good Vedek if I couldn't spot a man who'd been touched in some way by the Prophets. It's always in the eyes," he said. "I've seen that look before, in the eyes of men and women who've come to me for interpretation of their Orb experience and in my own mirror."

So, he'd gone through this as well. Things were starting to make some sense now. Not a lot, but I could see a tentative pattern emerging.

"The Orb of Guidance," the priest Vedek explained, "is different than the other Orbs. All of them, in their own specific ways, provide guidance to those willing to listen, but the Orb of Guidance tends to be a little more specific, more direct, if you will. It tells of events which may yet come to pass, or which will come to pass, in an attempt to guide you along the right path."

He had more to say.

"We Bajorans believe that the Prophets, unconstrained by time as we know it, have the power to see into the future as easily as we recall the past or experience the present, and therefore they know the best course of action to be taken in any situation. We believe that they know better than we do and work towards our long-term betterment, even if in the short-term we may endure great suffering and loss," he said. "Whether you believe that, of course, is perhaps the greatest act of faith, especially by those who experienced the horrors of the Occupation first hand. You can ignore the visions given to you by the Prophets, but there may be repercussions."

Well, that was ominous, but it was also exactly why I'd spared Dukat when it was relatively clear that they wanted him to live.

"But why would the Prophets have plans for me?" I asked. "I'm not a Bajoran. I don't even believe in them in a truly religious or spiritual way."

Although the same could be said for Sisko, but he was a very special case given his very existence had been engineered by the Prophets' machinations.

"I see them as just very advanced and fundamentally different aliens, not Gods," I explained.

That was when I realized that I'd been at least partially tainted by Federation thinking, something which I'd long vowed to both recognize and reject in the way I lived my life in this time, yet those freaking insidious bastards had managed to worm their way into my head, yet again. I'd have to be more careful and vigilant from here on out. My outsider perspective gave me an edge over everyone else.

I'd foolishly forgotten Clarke's third law: Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. The Prophets were gods in every way that truly mattered, they were supernatural beings (given that they lived outside of linear time they couldn't exactly be called natural from our perspective), were worshipped by millions of beings, and they had great power to affect the galaxy. They'd made, or possibly would make, an entire Dominion battle fleet of thousands of ships simply vanish into the ether. If that wasn't the work of Gods, or at least beings who possessed God-like power, then I didn't know what was.

Sure, the Prophets might have used some super advanced technology to make their wormhole. However, it could also be magic, or mystical power, or whatever. I simply didn't know and since I didn't know it was foolish to label the Prophets simply as 'advanced aliens.'

"I don't know why the Prophets choose whom they do. Only the Prophets know that," the Vedek replied, "but I believe that you have a role to play, one that involves protecting this Orb and returning it to Bajor at the proper time."

Well, I was okay with that. If they wanted this Orb off Bajor for a while then I was a good choice for the job. Besides, I was hardly going to say no to a group of beings who could make their own wormholes and move me through time and space on a whim. Being in the good graces of beings like that seemed like a pretty good idea. If I was owed another favor by them, even better!

"I myself went through what you are experiencing right now some fifty years ago," the Vedek told me. "My vision showed me that I would have to save the Orb by ensuring that it went beyond the reach of those who were on the path to destroying it, or take it for themselves to do great evil with its power."

If that was the case then I was an important part of a plan decades in the making.

How absurd…our language just didn't have the words to describe the perspective of beings that existed outside linear time. Thinking 'decades in the making' was, of course, a linear construction, so not exactly applicable, but it was hard to think any other way.

"I had to be sure that you were the one," the man explained. "So, I decided then, when the time finally came, that I would show you the Orb. If you were the one I sought, the Prophets would grant you a vision."

Which he had, in the past, so the man in front of me would remember himself meeting me before and giving me the Orb to take away. Only to me that hadn't happened yet, although it actually had, since I was now here returning the orb. This was oh so confusing.

"Hold on," I said. "If you saw yourself giving me the Orb in your vision, shouldn't you have known immediately that I was the one you were waiting for as soon as you saw me."

Time travel made things confusing, but I was sure that I'd found a flaw in this man's story.

"I was only a boy when I had my Orb experience," the priest told me. "The Prophets may be timeless, but I am not. It was fifty years ago, memory fades, and besides, I would not hand over the Orb unless I was absolutely certain that it was the will of the Prophets. Now I know that I was right to be careful, and that the Prophets knew that I would test you when the time came."

That did make sense, well, as much as any of this weirdness could.

"When this vision ends you will tell me of it, and I will give you the Orb," the Vedek said, "then you must take it away and protect it, so that you can return with it in the fullness of time. Do you understand?"

Amazingly, I did, it wasn't that complex… well… mostly…yeah, who was I kidding.

"Is there anything else you can tell me?" I asked the holy man, hoping for some hints about the future.

He smiled at me.

"Yes, I was to tell you something," he said, "something you yourself told me to pass on when I was asked that exact question."

I was very curious now. What message from the future might I be sending to myself? Maybe it was a warning? Maybe it was the lottery numbers or this time's equivalent? Maybe it was some indication that one of those treasure troves I was too scared to go after was safe?

"You told me to tell you: 'No spoilers,'" the Vedek relayed, with a small smirk.

Future me was such an asshole.

"Now you must go," urged the Vedek. "You have many things yet to do."

The greenish-white light appeared again, and once more I felt myself being transported away from this time and place.

XXXXX

Author's Note:

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Chapter 17: 18,671 words

Chapter 18: 14,234 words