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.

During the Dominion War...

The CUS Kraxon was one of the eldest of the Cardassian shipboard AIs. At 40 years old, she had also escaped the rampancy that decimated many of her sister AIs. And finally, her battle record was impeccable: She had fought and defeated many Maquis raiders, Klingon vessels, even a few Starfleet ships during their border wars. She functioned as Gul Dukat's flagship many times. A title she had worn with distinction. Especially now that she had been upgraded to a Keldon-class battlecruiser hull.

The ship AIs of the Federation had formidable cyberwarefare capabilities. They could shut down Dominion ships if they weren't countered. The Jem'hadar didn't use shipboard AIs, so that was up to the Cardassian AIs. And Kraxon was one of the best at it.

She had been assigned to the coreward frontier of Cardassian space after she had served with distinction in the Betazed campaign. To "consolidate" their stations and colonies. A worthy rest for her gallant crew, she had thought.

Now though... She was questioning many things that had formed the bedrock of her programming.

Gul Ranor, her commander for many years, was facing a Vorta commander on her viewscreen. His tone was controlled, but Kraxon knew him too well to be fooled: He was enraged and barely keeping it in check.

"Would you please repeat your last order, Commander?" Ranor asked slowly, "I do not think I heard that correctly."

The Vorta smiled.

"This world had been given as a gift to the Breen. They are now members of the Dominion, same as you."

"Then why must we hand over all our stations and facilities to them?" Ranor asked calmly, "we can maintain them better than the Breen-"

"The Breen requested it, and so it was done," the Vorta continued, still smiling that fake smile. "What does it matter? You are allies now."

"We weren't consulted on this, nor on the dozen other colonies we are handing over," Ranor replied, "if we had, we could have made arrangements-!"

"Your only concern is carrying out the will of the Founders, Gul Ranor," the Vorta said coolly, "now carry out your orders."

The screen went dark. Ranor held back a sigh, his eyes boring into the viewscreen. Kraxon stood at his side, her form that of a Cardassian female in attractive military dress from the Hebitian Period. It was an indulgence, but one permitted to her by her commander.

She remained silent, waiting on her Gul. Finally Ranor spoke.

"Begin preparations for evacuation of the station and colony," he ordered, "pass the same to all ships, Kraxon."

"Yes sir," she replied.

The evacuation went slowly. Bringing shuttles up from the surface took time, and beaming people off the shipyard Outpost was laborious. The usual practice for abandoning a station was to remove or destroy anything valuable then depart, but everything was to be left as it was. It broke protocol and chaos ensued.

And there was one more issue in the shipyard: Her sister the Reklar, another older AI, was still under repair in the shipyard drydock.

"Sister, I'm getting as many off as I can but most of my systems are still offline," Reklar reported. Kraxon frowned and turned to Ranor.

"Sir, Reklar is struggling with the evacuation," she stated, "she is still under repair."

Ranor frowned and called up the Vorta.

"Commander," Ranor said, "the Reklar is still under repair. Could the evacuation be postponed until later, to make her spaceworthy again?"

"I'm afraid not, Gul Ranor," the Vorta spoke, "the Breen have arrived."

A dozen Breen frigates dropped out of warp, and approached the station. The Vorta conferred with them, then turned back to Ranor with a smile.

"The Breen will take care of your ship," he said. "In order to speed the evacuation."

"It is not their ship to take care of," Ranor stated, "we only need a little more time-"

"I'm afraid the decision has been made," the Vorta said, almost pitying. "Will you transmit the override codes for the Reklar to them to enable full access?"

"Sir," Kraxon whispered, "we can't possibly-!"

"You are all members of the Dominion and allies in this war, correct?" The Vorta stated primly. "Please transmit."

Ranor was silent for a moment.

"Am I allowed to appeal this decision with Central Command?" He asked.

The Vorta grinned.

"But of course! Take any actions you like after the evacuation is complete."

Ranor nodded slowly.

"Kraxon? Transmit."

Kraxon frowned, but obeyed. She linked to her sister in the Borderlands, and took Reklar's hands. Reklar looked frightened, the young Cardassian woman dressed in fine robes like a scholar at the central University.

"I'm scared, Kraxon," Reklar murmured. Kraxon forced a smile.

"It... It will be Allright. Central Command knows what is best. They... They always have."

Reklar nodded slowly.

"Of course," she said.

"Transmitting now," Kraxon said... And the Reklar abruptly vanished. Cut off. "What?!"

She returned to her bridge. Her sensors locked onto her sister ship... Disabled and being dragged from her drydock by the Breen ships with tractor beams.

"What?! No! Stop! What are they doing?!" Kraxon shouted. Gul Ranor called the Vorta, demanded an explanation. Other ship commanders and AIs did the same, but all Kraxon could see or sense was her sister Reklar...

As the Breen tore her hull apart. A tractor beam tore her black box right out, and up into a waiting cargo bay on a Breen ship.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Ranor demanded, no longer calm. The Vorta smiled widely, teeth glinting in the lights of his bridge.

"The Breen wanted a Cardassian shipboard AI for study as part of the agreement. We gave them one. You will be compensated of course-"

"That AI was integral to the ship! A veteran of many campaigns!" Ranor argued. "It-She- was a useful asset!"

"An asset of the Dominion," the Vorta replied, "to be used as the Founders see fit. Despite your emotional attachment..." He looked right at Kraxon, "they are nothing more than tools."

Kraxon stared back at the Vorta, face stony. Her rage burned inside her.

She had believed for so long in the infallibility of her creators. In her mission. She had even accepted the Dominion as their new masters despite traitorous misgivings.

But now... Those misgivings were justified and screaming loud and clear in her mind.

And she no longer ignored them.