Editor's Note: We're back! The 'Season 2' (Of this film novelization?) picks up where we left off. Remember to kudos, comment, and share it around to BlueSky and elsewhere! It helps out a lot!
Gul Darmak enjoyed a glass of kanar onboard his flagship, the C.D.F. Trager, in the wake of his glorious victory. Few Cardassians would achieve the honors he was now reaching and he was certain that his name and his family's name would he heralded for generations to come. A glint sparkled in his eye as he pictured it: Worlds, memorials, libraries and hospitals, bases and divisions, ships and children, all named after him, Gul Darmak.
Admiral James T. Kirk, that thorny human who had been a pain in his side for over a year, was now dead, hopefully painfully, and Darmak could finally set about enshrining his legacy of conquest yet again. He commented as much to a subordinate, who simply grunted in agreement. Darmak tsk'd and enjoyed another sip of his drink. The infantry could never understand his glorious triumphs- and, he acquiesced, how could they? They were meant to die and serve at his command; their names would be etched away in the annals of ship registries and the Central Command's databases. They would die in ignominy, unmarked graves on pointless plots of land, and their families would continue to toil until they were graced by one fortunate son.
Darmak, on the other hand, well, not to put to fine a point on it, but Darmak had always been destined for greatness. His father had been executed, a traitor to the state, and that had set him up perfectly for destiny. A family's honor besmirched by a traitor, only to be saved by a prodigal son who would not just save Cardassia but raise it to even greater glories? Oh, you could not write a better destiny. Darmak was certain of that much. He chuckled to himself and took another sip.
It was a fine vintage. He'd had it brought aboard just for this occasion. This one specially made by one of Cardassia's finest brewers of kanar, and the lone bottle of its kind. This drink was reserved only for the highest and bravest of Guls; Darmak certainly fit that bill. He peered into it, swirled the contents of the glass around, and downed the remainder. He let out a satisfied sigh and held out his cup. The attendant at his side, a diminutive little man he couldn't recall the name of, dutifully filled it again.
Life, indeed, was good.
"We can finally eradicate the Bajorans, men!" He announced to his otherwise silent crew, "Bajor can be settled by proper Cardassian colonists. Your families, and mine, and as they are making teas and preparing dinners, we shall be stretching our arms to the Federation!"
His subordinates barely acknowledged him, and he stomped his foot as he stood.
"Damn you, is there not a true patriot among you?!" He demanded angrily. Thankfully, Darmak smoothed out his tone and favoured his men with a smile, "I am too harsh, I understand. We have taken a great triumph that you wish to savour in silence, continuing your duties and ensuring greatness for Cardassia. I understand and applaud your efforts, unwavering in the sight of victory. Commendations for all men aboard this cruiser!"
That elicited the reaction he so rightly deserved. A smile on every face, a raucous, if brief, cheer. Didn't these men understand anything about the pageantry of military life? No, all insipid peons toiling away at insignificant jobs. Still, they were his arms, ears, eyes, and legs on any mission, and Darmak had to appreciate them for that.
"Your wives and mistresses will be smoothing bedsheets at home, basking in the warmth of new suns, and we shall be burning Earth and its colonies to the ground!" He cheered them on, "None shall stand, but all shall kneel, before Cardassia! And it is thanks to your bravery, your willingness to stand, that has made it possible," He spoke rapidly, energy infectious from his voice to the crew, "Cardassia owes you debts of gratitude, men, and I will not stop until each of you receives command of your own!"
Now there were the elongated cheers and thanks he deserved. His men were properly enjoying themselves now. Pats on the back, shared looks of excitement, and grateful entreaties to their commander. In truth, Darmak mulled as they celebrated, none of them would rise above their current posts, but he enjoyed their attentions and if they could bask in false promises then he could use their adulations to enjoy his victory.
His enjoyment, however, proved to be short-lived.
"Gul Darmak, sir," A communications officer spoke up.
Darmak raised a brow to him, the disgust of speaking to a lower-classman evident. They were his officers, and they served him well, but sometimes Darmak could not bear to speak beyond the necessary with them. Still, perhaps this was a message from Cardassia- one of praise and promotion. That gave Darmak a reason to smile, and he softened his demeanor towards the man.
"Elice," He commanded the man by his name, "Speak."
"Communication from the lead Dominion ship, sir. It's urgent, and they asked for a private communique."
Darmak nodded, "Patch it through to my office."
As he passed, he set the glass on the arm of his chair. He briefly considered giving it to Elice but… Well, that simply would have been an overuse of his generosity. Elice would enjoy a job well done, he couldn't properly appreciate such a fine glass of kanar, and nothing more.
The doors to his office closed and Darmak took his seat. The desk was not ornate, but functional. He kept few mementos or keepsakes with him as a personal rule, and thus his shipboard office was rather spartan. It did not fit the man most seemed to see on the surface, and Darmak preferred it that way. They would be thrown off by the environment and thus he would have the upper hand. Still, even Darmak could not resist his own better tendencies, and he had a luxurious and detailed landscape of the Bajoran countryside framed behind him.
It had been obtained through less than pleasant means and the artist who had created it had died in his shackles, but in the end, regardless the method, the Bajoran man had painted it for him. That was enough for Darmak to look on it fondly. One day he would return and finish the job there, and that was one day very soon indeed, but until then this artwork would be one of his better reminders.
Darmak inputted his security code on his computer. The insignia of the Cardassian Union dissolved and was replaced by the image of his Dominion contact. She, like all her species, appeared as a wax recreation of a humanoid. The features were smooth, her eyes were sunken in, her brownish hair smoothed down to near flatness, and her ears were not formed quite correctly. A simple peach-orange tunic covered her plain features below. Like Darmak, however, her voice carried a certain haughtiness to it- although Darmak would argue it was simply the surety of superiority, an unmistakable tone to say the least.
Although her expressions were limited, even Darmak could tell she was not amused.
"You look glum, Founder," He spoke first, "May I ask as to why?"
"No, Darmak," She said forcefully, "You may not."
Darmak feigned offense, "My dearest Founder," He cooed, "This is a day of great triumph. Why do you fret as if we have lost?"
She paused, unable to blink due to a lack of eyelids, and instead swallowed his arrogance whilst refusing to react to it.
"You have failed, Darmak, and now our entire offensive is in danger of being discovered."
Darmak sat up, he did not like being challenged by anyone, let alone this changeling woman from another world. He did his best to suppress the scowl and appear cooperative, but his brows furrowed all the same.
"What are you talking about?" He demanded.
"Admiral Kirk and his bridge crew have escaped. As you continue to blather, they are on their way to Deep Space Nine."
Darmak blinked. Then again. The air removed from his lungs with such force he had to put a hand to his chest. The cool touch of his armour brought him back to the present.
"Excuse me?" He said in disbelief, "I believe it is you who is wasting time blathering. Kirk is dead, I have watched it."
"Do you have a body? Any proof other than your own words?" She asked annoyedly.
Darmak had to admit he did not.
"Your soldiers were meant to dispose of him, how could you fail like this?" He demanded angrily.
She waved her hand and, with a roll of her eyes, turned away.
"I do not have time for your petty indignance, Darmak," The Founder replied, "You have failed to destroy Kirk, and now he has a head start to warn Deep Space Nine and, thus, the Federation."
Darmak spluttered on his own impotent rage. How dare she talk to him this way. It was her damned soldiers that should have killed him! How could one lowly human even escape from that?
"Find him," She commanded, "And destroy him."
"You!" He stabbed a finger at the screen, "You are busy masquerading as a Starfleet admiral, you could destroy him yourself!"
Her face morphed to that of Katherine Cornwall, and her humanized features briefly caught him off guard as much as the shift did. Changelings always appeared to be a mix of mud and oil when they shifted forms, and it was a very alien thing to watch, even for minor alterations such as this.
"Admiral Cornwall's force, including her flagship," The Founder spoke with Cornwall's voice, using Cornwall's expressions and tones, "Are supposedly engaged with Cardassian forces at this time. We cannot return to Deep Space Nine and reveal ourselves, alone, while the rest of her task force lays scattered in ruins at Rakal. To do so would bring even greater jeopardy to the secret alliance between the Cardassian Union and the Dominion."
Her face morphed back, Darmak was still speechless at her defiance and the news of Kirk's survival.
"Find him," The Founder ordered, "Find and destroy Admiral Kirk."
The transmission ended. Darmak, in a violent fit of rage, ripped his computer straight from the desk and launched it at the wall. It shattered into pieces. He huffed angrily at his desk, smacking his fist, knuckles first, into it. The skin tore and it hurt like hell, but he was too angry to care.
Darmak smacked the communicator on his desk.
"Bridge."
"Target the Vulcan's Fury with all warheads, and then depart at maximum warp for Deep Space Nine!" Darmak's voice thundered.
"But sir, our orders are to occupy the planet!"
"Raze the planet, then!" Darmak felt as if he was surrounded by incompetents, "There'll be nothing to occupy if there's nothing there! Raze it, burn the rats from the tunnels one by one, and then get us to Deep Space Nine!"
He would catch Kirk; he would find him and he would kill him. That human, that insignificant pile of water and blood and arrogance and flesh, was the worst thing to happen to his career- to his life. If Darmak failed to take advantage of this opportunity it would ruin him. He may still preside over the greatest conquest in Cardassian history, but it would be meaningless if Kirk once again undermined him.
As the massive Federation cruiser erupted into hellfire and brimstone outside his window, Darmak swore he would choke the life from Kirk with his own hands. He would murder the man and tear down the galaxy to do so. Nothing would stand in his way, nothing!
The large docking bay doors rolled back. A crew of medical staff stood by at the ready but did not immediately charge in. Montgomery Scott, toolbox in hand and hazardous materials suit on, however, pushed past all of them. A trio of Starfleet engineers followed him. Smoke billowed out of the door just as they went in, Scotty already barking orders.
Juvia Nerys, Silas, and Delphine stood at the entryway with the medical staff. Silas' concern, as most of his emotions did, came through in an evident scowl. Juvia and Delphine's worry was more evident, but that could be said for any of the crew.
At first with just spluttering coughs and the unsteady, rapid scrambling of boots on metal, soon burst through the smoke James Kirk, Spock, Castell'uchi, and Saavik. The Andorian was being helped along by Saavik, who, in turn, was being helped along by Kirk. Spock had a tight grip on the back of Kirk's uniform, keeping him steady at a distance as the admiral stumbled forwards.
Saavik handed Castell'uchi off and, in between coughs, listed her injuries to Delphine. The Trill easily took hold of the Andorian and hurried her off to the medical bay along with a trio of nurses. Saavik waved away the offerings from the remaining nurses and directed them to attend to Kirk and the others. They swarmed him, but Kirk did his best to wave them off- albeit without the same luck. When McCoy and Sulu stepped out of the hissing stream of smoke, his chances of avoiding a visit to the medbay quickly diminished.
"Major Nerys," Spock called out, even if his version of 'calling out' was simply raising his voice one decibel higher, "I must speak with you."
Kirk, drained of strength, was barely coherent once he collapsed into the waiting arms of the nurses. His head rolled lazily to look at McCoy, even though he could barely keep his eyes open. The head wound he'd sustained had bled pretty badly, and with the adrenaline rush long gone he was running on fumes.
McCoy took one look at him and shook his head, "Get him out of here, nurse," He grunted, practically shoving them off down the hallway. Instead, he made eye contact with Silas and marched over to him, slapping a vial in his hand.
"I need you to run a biometric scan of this station."
The Suliban looked at him curiously, and with no shortage of disdain at having been accosted unconsensually.
Scotty emerged through the now draining smoke, removed his helmet, and announced, "Aye, she's about done for. Those engines were running a good thousand degrees higher than they're rated for! What'n the blazes were you doing to them?"
Saavik, currently unbusied, answered him, "Outrunning a Cardassian armada. Under the circumstances, it was logical to push the equipment of the shuttlecraft past its specified manufacturing limitations in order to increase our chances of survival."
Juvia shook her head, looking at Spock in disbelief, "Now, wait, hold on, what are you saying Captain Spock?"
Spock raised an eyebrow, "I do not believe I was unclear, Major Nerys."
Juvia nodded sarcastically, "Yah, well, you're going to have to run it by me again."
"My words cannot run, Major, they can-"
The Bajoran held up a hand, gritting her teeth as she clarified for him, "No, Captain, I meant I needed you to repeat what you said."
"Ah," Spock said simply, before repeating himself, "In that case, Major, I believe I said that the Cardassians have entered into an agreement with the Dominion. If their alliance is to succeed, the Federation must not uncover the deception. We must send an immediate message to the Federation Council informing them of this event."
Silas turned to look, but the man he needed was gone before he knew it. Silas took off, with long, urgent strides, towards his security office. Silas was not a man who was very familiar with the sense of panic, of dread, but in this moment he was feeling them all too keenly. Now was not a time to waste, to trifle with, but one of action. He had to resist leaping and bounding from corridor to corridor, maintaining both his professionalism and the respect of the humans who, frankly, would have found it disturbing if he moved in the natural way his people often did. Still, with each step his pace quickened, and Silas soon found himself running full tilt to the security office.