Legate Broca made ready for his illustrious predecessor...
“Then the explosives that we brought aren’t even going to make a dent in it” Kira Nerys said with displeasure. She was crouched down in the ally surrounding the massive form of the Cardassian Central Command with a troop of Damar’s Rebels (as she had mentally dubbed them) desperately trying to find a way inside the fortress.
“You see the problem” Garak murmured unhelpfully. Ekoor, the young gorr
who had saved them from a Jem’hadar firing line earlier in what had been a most trying day so far looked around impatiently. “What do we do then?” he hissed urgently.
All eyes turned towards the stoic figure seated in the middle of the group.
Corat Damar, the former leader of the Cardassian Union and current living legend resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the obvious hero worship in the faces of his fellow Cardassians. Even Garak for Prime’s sake,
he bemoaned internally. Why do they keep looking at me for the answers? I’m not their messiah, just a pissed off Cardassian!
He cast off his worthless self pity and addressed his loyal army thusly; “I don’t know but I’m through hiding in basements.”
For some inexplicable reason, this set Elim Garak off in a fit of barely suppressed laughter. Damar, irritated at the further display of eccentricity from the former Obsidian Order spy growled at the older man. “I fail to see what’s so funny, Garak...”
Garak turned to him, his whole body shaking with mirth. “Isn’t it obvious? Here we are making ready to storm the castle...willing to sacrifice our lives in a noble effort to slay the Dominion beast in its lair and we cannot even get inside the gate!”
The rest of them all stared blankly at him until the inherent absurdity of their situation sunk in. At which point they all dissolved into manic laughter. This lasted a few seconds before Kira could calm down enough to speak again.
“We could just knock on the door and ask the jem’hadar to let us in...” This set off another round of laughter which was interrupted by the surprising sound of the heavy door in front of them opening with a loud boom.
There was a stunned silence at this as everyone stared at the entrance in surprise which was only broken with Garak’s muttered comment.
“Well major, it would seem that they heard you!”
A few minutes later Damar and his group had walked in mystified confusion though the hallways and corridors of the headquarters, encountering nothing but dead Jem’hadar lying slumped across doorways and on the floors. They were all deeply puzzled until Damar recognised the distinctive smell of the Neurazine Gas.
“Why would Weyoun have all the Jem’hadar killed?” One of the other Cardassians who had joined them asked. Damar snorted, “Perhaps he was sick of watching us die? Anyway that does not matter; we’re almost at the briefing room.”
The door was still locked and Damar gestured to Ekoor who sprung into action laying several explosives at the base and sides of the heavily armoured entrance. Before he could finish his work, the door suddenly opened and the resistance was greeted with a shocking visage.
”,Damar and several other outraged Cardassians yelled bringing their weapons to bear. The lanky Legate held up his arms and moved out of the way.
“Before you shoot me, a fate that I truly deserve, please hear me out!” With outrage still brazing in his eyes Damar ordered everyone to lower their weapons. He strode up to the former puppet and hissed a dire warning to his successor.
“This had better be good, traitor!”
Broca maintained contact with Damar as he used his left arm to encompass the whole room. “You are of course right, Damar, to call me a traitor and I have indeed committed heinous crimes against our people; but I have tried to do my admittedly limited best to make some small atonements for my wrongdoing.”
Kira laughed mockingly at this spineless Kuas Oakling. “Oh yeah, we can all see that, hiding in this room has really helped to free Cardassia!” Broca merely looked at her, lifting an eyeridge in that always annoying way that the Cardassians seemed to have mastered.
“Maybe you aren’t looking close enough, commander.” He said.
Frowning, Kira Neryrs of Bajor (and Starfleet pro term)
glanced around the small room suddenly noticing the dead Jem’hadar and the ash pile before she alighted upon the recumbent form of that unmitigated bastard Weyoun.
Garak looked at Broca with a seeming ...respect. “Was this you doing?” he asked in a low voice.
“Yes, plus all the others throughout the building, not to mention the chaos with the garrison on Prime” Broca answered without false modesty.
Ekoor glanced at the monitors quickly collating all the pertinent data therein. “He’s telling the truth, its chaos out there, the whole planet has risen up against our oppressors!” The bunker was rocked with glorious cheering as the rebels begun to celebrate, with some even busting into ‘Cardassia forever
Sons and daughters of Cardassia stand with pride and strength...
Damar had to put a swift halt to the premature rejoicing as he pointed to the main display showing the chaotic battle being fought above. “We have too much to do now before we can celebrate, our comrades are dying as we speak and our allies are still locked in battle with those dammed Jem’Hadar. We have much work ahead of us.”
It was at that point that Weyoun finally recovered from his earlier beating. The sight that welcomed him was rather disconcerting, to say the least.
“Well hello there!” said Damar, an eager smile on his face.
Weyoun felt a terrible coldness run though his body. This will not go well for me.
Thought the Vorta with a severe case of understatement...
Days passed and amongst many other things, the blood soaked conflict known as the Dominion War finally ended.
The abrupt surrender of the entire Dominion military sent ripples across the Alpha and Beta quadrants stunning Admirals, senators and ordinary citizens alike, it was discussed by the Chancellor of the august Klingon Empire as he took Bloodwine with a Captain and an Admiral whilst on Earth a Bolian President and his aide tried to work out just what had happened.
Regardless, it was a time of great celebration and joy for most, although there were many exceptions to prove the rule.
As he looked out at the ruins of a once great city, Gul Verak Djimas was left totally empty by the war’s climatic ending. He bent down to pick up a piece of the rubble, turning it over and over in his gray palms repeatedly. Dozens of other Cardassians, Humans and even Klingons picked their way across the desolate cityscape. Attempts to look for survivors had proven to be useless as the Dominion assault had been total.
Two million Cardassians, sentient beings with loves, fears and desires, who had often just been concerned with providing for their families and serving their planet. Now utterly wiped from the universe by a depraved adversary.
“Where did we go wrong Verak?”
Dijmas dropped the piece of Lakaria and stared into the distance. He felt Ocett’s presence next to him but he could not find the words to meet her heartfelt query. Her boots caused a crunching sound as she stepped over rubble and detritus, moving into his eyeline as she looked towards the blackened patch of land where the fabled amusement centre used to stand. “I went there once” she said pointing at the wreckage “My father took me there before I...”
Gul Malyn Ocett stopped mid sentence as the realisation struck her and the formerly implacable leader broke down in tears for her lost city and family. Dijmas found himself doing something unimaginable, something that no self respecting Gul would have ever done before. He moved to his fellow Lakarian and placed his arm across her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her.
They would soon recover and resume their roles as soldiers of a reborn Union but for now, they both mourned the past and looked to an uncertain future.
It hung in the darkness of space, an artificial construction of solemn beauty or unholy terror depending upon whose opinion you sought. For over fifty long and heartbreaking years it had been the site of a brutal unremorseful struggle, in which the mere act of survival entailed extraordinary courage. Then, for four hopeful years it had been a gateway to a new era in exploration, both in the stars and the very souls of the people dwelling within. Soon after the terrible drums of war had sounded and it had become a fortress paying a heavy blood price to the altar of suffering. Now it once again stood on the cusp of a new and brighter age.
Once it was known as Terok Nor, now with the hopes and dreams of ages gone and ages yet to be she basked in the brilliant glory of her new name; Deep Space Nine.
Today history would once again embrace the station.