Dark Territory: Aftershocks is a follow-up to Fall Out. I would like to thank Xeris for the use of his Breen characters/planets that were featured in his Triton series, which went before its time IMO. My interpretation of those characters will be different and more in line with the continuity of the shared universe. I'm not sure if they will be in this story yet or not, but my discussions with him and review of his work have already inspired the Breen characters I've written. I would also like to thank Gibraltar, Dnoth, and all of the members of our shared universe. This is work in progress so I might be calling on you all at some point to draft characters or situations as I have done with Gibraltar and Dnoth. I hope you enjoy.
The Warm Up DARK TERRITORY: AFTERSHOCKS THE WARM UP USS Tuscarora Vilkatis Minor System November 2375 Captain Ra-Nesh clutched his armrests. “Helm full power,” the Efrosian yelled over another the sound of another exploding console. The starship trembled as another barrage sliced through what remained of the shields. “Aye sir,” Lt. Harper said, before her mouth welled with more blood. She spit out a tooth, and pushed away an errant strand of hair that got in her eyes. She pointed the saucer section in the direction of the wide patches of starless space surrounding Vilkatis III. “Do it,” Ra-Nesh said, hacking as the smoke from the new fire got into his lungs. The fire suppression system had gone on the blink half an hour ago. “Sir, there has to be another way,” Commander Jocata Senn tried to change his mind again. If things didn’t go well the captain would miss the obstinate Frunalian. She had taken over the Ops console, after kicking aside the corpse of Lt. Doyle. “There is no other way,” he rasped; his throat raw. “You know it and I do as well.” “We should be running away from the disruptions, not towards them,” Senn couldn’t let it go. “He’s right,” resident Alshain Liaison Officer Worra stated the obvious though absent the typical smugness, “If we can navigate successfully through the subspace fractures emanating from Vilkatis III then we might have a chance to yet bypass the Dominion armada.” “I would feel more confident if I, or one of my soldiers was piloting your vessel,” Sublieutenant Rusina said, her haughtiness quite intact. The tall Romulan woman stood at perfect attention despite the green blood running down her face from a wound hidden by her mop of unruly black hair. Another Romulan survivor hovered over Lt. Harper’s console, eager to step in. To her credit, Harper didn’t slug him. Counting Rusina and Mr. Eager, Tuscarora had only been able to beam two dozen Romulans from the warbird Duellona before it had been destroyed by the Dominion squadron pursuing them. Unfortunately, the USS Kliper, one other Romulan vessel and three Alshain cruisers that had comprised their taskforce had been vaped with all hands aboard. Adding that to the several Alshain vessels that had fleshed out the assault force on Vilkatis III and the destruction unleashed from the planet as a result of their strike, the death count was staggering. Netting less than thirty survivors from a crew of thousands on the Duellona, Ra-Nesh still couldn’t wrap his mind around the reality of such mindless loss, even though he saw it every day, and had dealt death far more than his fair share. But his only concern now was getting his crew home safely. And the Dominion weren’t making it easy for them. The ship rattled again. “That’s the last of the shields,” the Tactical Officer’s replacement glumly replied. “We’re defenseless.” “I don’t want to hear that kind of talk on my bridge,” Ra-Nesh snapped. “As long as we’ve got warp, we can outrun these bastards.” “I…don’t think so sir,” Chief Falconi said from the auxiliary engineering console. He had been running the engines from the bridge until a delta radiation leak could be cleaned up. Fortunately, the blast that had released the radiation hadn’t sufficiently damaged the warp drive. “The delta radiation’s corrosive effects are working faster than our automated clean up efforts. It will eat into the dilithium matrix chamber in less than two minutes.” Ra-Nesh swiveled around in his seat to look at the bulky engineer through the fading smoke. “What happens after that?” Rusina asked. Romulan vessels being powered by contained singularities, Ra-Nesh could understand the woman’s curiosity about Starfleet propulsion systems. Falconi looked at the captain before he answered. Ra-Nesh nodded for the man to continue. “I don’t know,” he said, his face twisting with disgust. “But I can guarantee you it won’t be good.” ***** Gor Negus Breen Flagship Vilkatis Minor System November 2375 “We must pull back,” Subahdar Rufaro declared, his pinkish, tightly wrinkled face contorting with exasperation. “It is madness to follow that starship back into the locus of the disturbances. Our sensors are reading temporal fluxes and a host of other subspace anomalies spreading from Vilkatis III. There is nothing that can be done to save the Son’a lives lost on that planet. We failed to reach them in time. Let’s accept our losses and return to base.” “How could you even think such a thing,” Ober-Gul Yarec spat. “Vilkatis was a Son’a world! How could you not want to avenge the deaths of your brethren? Or the loss of vital technologies that could bring an early conclusion to this war?” Thot Gor snorted in response to the heated exchange. From behind the green visor on his mask, he glowered at the split viewscreen which contained both men. The idea of an alliance with inferior species such as the Son’a or the Cardassians appalled him. However, they both provided excellent cannon fodder. “I’m done conversing with cowards!” Yarec declared, before severing his end of the link. Seconds later, Gor’s sensor officer informed him that part of the Cardassian attack wing had leapt forward in an attempt to reach the enemy first. Gor ordered Yarec to fall back. He wanted the last kill. It was Gor’s by right as mission commander. Yarec reluctantly complied, allowing the Negus to resume its place at the tip of the spear. “Nothing less than total victory is acceptable,” he replied to the Son’a commander still online. He watched the main viewer for Rufaro’s confused expression to lessen when their translation device finally deciphered Gor’s words. Confusion was replaced by exasperation and then consternation. “This isn’t San Francisco or Chin’toka,” the Son’a stiffly replied. “The subspace anomalies make this battle far more in doubt.” “For you perhaps, but not for Domain Gor.” He glanced around at his kinsmen, manning the consoles. There wasn’t an ounce of doubt or fear in any of them. They had immediately seized on the opportunities joining the Dominion would provide for the Breen. And the solid support of his domain had allowed Gor to rally the other chieftains of the Breen Confederacy into a unified coalition, not seen in centuries, to sweep across the galaxy, something many had often whispered about and dreamed of, but never been able to put into fruition. “We will cease only when nothing remains of the Federation starship but embers.” Rufaro’s laugh was rasping. “Fine, but you’ll do it without us!” One of his lieutenants looked up from his console. “Thot Gor, the entire Son’a attack wing is breaking formation.” “On screen,” Gor commanded. The silvery, scythe shaped ships were vacating the assault force in retreat. “Shall I order the Jem’Hadar or Cardassians to destroy them,” Sarkos, the Vorta assigned to the assault force as an advisor, casually suggested. Gor had been surprised that the usually loquacious Vorta had watched his exchange with Rufaro in silence. The thot realized it was another sign of the faith the Founder had placed in the Breen, and Gor in particular, to carry the Dominion’s banner forward to victory. First the Cardassians, and now even the Jem’Hadar and the Vorta, had been made subordinate to Thot Gor on this mission. Its success would seal the Breen’s position in the Dominion’s hierarchy. “No, let the cowards desert us,” Gor declared. “And let it be noted how loyal they are to our cause.” He added. Sarkos nodded. “I shall avail the Founder of their treachery as soon as we return to Cardassia Prime.” *****
The Warm Up ***** Netar Cardassian Central Command Vessel “We must strike now,” Gil Kolza stated. “While they are distracted,” he jabbed a finger at the screen. Thot Gor’s flagship had just launched another volley at the beleaguered Federation ship. Hull breaches opened across the vessel, but Gul Horan knew the salvo wasn’t enough to destroy the vessel. Thot Gor reminded the gul of a gettle that liked to play with its food before eating it. And he was counting on the Breen’s arrogance to be his downfall. “But shouldn’t we be helping the Starfleet ship?” Kolza asked. “The Feds are supporting Legate Damar after all.” Horan frowned. Though Kolza was a competent officer, he was a bit too idealistic to ever be an effective commander. “Yes, the Federation are backing Legate Damar, but not out of the goodness of their hearts. They know that Cardassia is the linchpin to defeating the Dominion, just like the Founders knew we were the essential ingredient to their plans for victory in the Alpha Quadrant. The Federation isn’t our friends. In fact, after this war is over I fear they will be a greater threat to our self-determination than even the Changelings.” “I don’t understand,” Kolza replied. “One additional starship helps add to our effort to oust the Dominion from our lands.” “In the smaller scheme of things, yes,” Horan said, “but I’m more concerned about that ship’s guns being turned later on Cardassians. For now, I only hope that starship survives long enough to lure that fool Gor and most of his kin closer to the anomalies. And then we’ll do the rest.” ******* Gor Negus Command Bridge A proximity alarm sounded. “Thot Gor, we are nearing one of the anomaly strands,” Prethot Larn replied, with impressive calm. Gor watched the screen as the twisting band of energy lashed out at both the Tuscarora and his vessel. Surprisingly, the Starfleet vessel had enough power to dip below the stand. Gor quickly ordered his pilot to do the same. “Thot Gor,” Sarkos began cautiously. “In the interest of time, I recommend that you complete the mission so that we can return to Dominion space. It is doubtless that more Alliance forces are en route.” Gor stared at the Vorta for an interminable amount of seconds. The Vorta wilted under the steady gaze. As if sensing his ill intent, the two Jem’Hadar warriors that accompanied Sarkos stepped forward to protect him. Gor laughed. “If I intended to harm you Sarkos, it would’ve already taken place.” The Negus came up from under the strand, the scored aft section of the Tuscarora filling the main viewer. Just beyond the starship was another gaping void. He knew the Federation starship was capable of avoiding the maw, but this time he wouldn’t give them a chance. “Activate the dissipater.” The key to the Breen’s victory at the second battle of Chin’toka had been the unveiling of an energy dissipater that had drained both Starfleet and Romulan ships of their power. Unfortunately, Klingon ships were immune to the effect. But that didn’t trouble Gor much. Breen scientists were working on counteracting that immunity. Besides, under Gow’ron’s increasingly shaky leadership, the Empire were likely to run out of ships in a matter of months. “Dissipater enabled,” Larn said. “Fire,” Gor ordered. ******* USS Tuscarora Main Bridge “I should’ve known our luck couldn’t hold,” Captain Ra-Nesh said as he watched the consoles and then the lighting on the ship flicker before going dark. “Everyone to life pods. Abandon ship!” ********
The Warm Up ******** Netar Main Bridge Gul Horan had sent coded messages to the rest of the loyal Cardassian ships. With typical arrogance, Thot Gor had positioned the Cardassian vessels behind the Breen warships. Normally Horan would’ve protested, but the location was perfect for a sneak attack. And the looming tear in space the Starfleet vessel was now drifting toward looked large enough to swallow all four Breen vessels. “Fire,” he ordered. ******* Leljan Cardassian Flagship Main Bridge “I demand to know why you’re breaking formation!” Ober-Gul Yarec yelled at the screen. Glinn Sepala, his longtime friend, and occasional mistress, looked oddly remorseful. She leaned forward in the command chair of the Soryon, a Hideki-class cruiser that Yarec had expended considerable political capital to win for her. She stared forlornly at him. He hoped the woman wouldn’t be foolish enough to say something that might reveal their affair. Yarec refrained from tugging at the collar of his cuirass armor. “What’s wrong with you Glinn?” He snapped. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I wished you weren’t so damned loyal,” she added. “What are you talking about?” Yarec said. “We’re in the middle of a battle, and now is not the time to flake out on me.” “Yes,” Sepala nodded. “We are in the middle of a war, but we’ve been fighting the wrong one.” “Sir,” Yarec’s sensor officer called out, “Several ships, the Soryon among them, are targeting us.” The Ober-Gul rounded on the fidgeting officer. “Impossible!” He roared, shoving the man aside so he could look at the data himself. Momentarily stunned silent, Yarec looked back at the screen. “What is happening, what are you doing? How? Why are you doing this?” “I’m sorry,” Sepala repeated, before she opened fire. *******
The Warm Up ******* Gor Negus Command Bridge “What are those fools doing?” Thot Gor roared. “It’s obvious,” Sarkos darkly reasoned. “They have thrown in their lot with the traitor Damar!” At the mention of the rebel Cardassian’s name, the Jem’Hadar became even more alert, as if they expected the legate to materialize on the bridge at any second. Which didn’t sound any more preposterous, or unlikely than Horan’s attack. “Order the other ships to break formation!” Gor snarled, “And engage the Cardassians!” The ship shuddered, and the bridge splintered before the command could be transmitted. His four-lobed brain exploded in agony, his empathic link to the organic parts of the warship, betraying him as the pain from the assault drove daggers into his neural pathways. Gor tried to stand, striking feebly at the empty air, sharing the Negus’s feelings of impotence. Another strike and he felt the hull around the engine room crumbling and the voracious vacuum tearing at the ship’s vulnerable reactor. The great heart of the Negus struggled against the tremendous pull of space until it eventually gave out. The psionic stress brought Gor to his knees. Thot Gor awoke to find himself on the deck, pieces of the floor puncturing his suit. Heat vapors were slithering through the slits, scalding him. Ignoring the pain, Gor sat up. He tugged his cracked helmet off, throwing it into the darkness. He immediately began coughing from the bands of smoke engulfing the bridge. “Larn!” He called, his own voice sounding foreign in his ears. “Larn!” “I don’t know how many of your soldiers are alive,” Sarkos’s voice issued through the sheets of smoke. He emerged seconds later, with only one Jem’Hadar attendant. The tubule normally attached to the creature’s neck was missing and dark blood splattered the front of his uniform. It appeared that both Sarkos and the Jem’Hadar were supporting each other. Sarkos tried to hide the shock of seeing Gor unmasked, but failed. “How could this have happened?” Gor hated the pleading tone in his voice, but couldn’t help himself. He grabbed Sarkos and shook him violently. “How!” he demanded. The Jem’Hadar soldier slowly moved to stop Gor, plunking his kar’takin into the Breen general’s shoulder. Gor was so frenzied with shock that he didn’t even feel the blade, until the Jem’Hadar twisted it in. “Second, halt!” Sarkos yelled. The Jem’Hadar immediately ceased. Gor struggled to pull the entrenched blade out, eventually giving up. He found his way back to his command seat, Sarkos and the Jem’Hadar following him. Gor smashed the already shattered armrest display even more. It was as dead as they were likely to be. Through the smoke he saw that the main viewer was still functional. Only a hint of the Federation starship could be seen now in the growing murk. The Negus would surely follow them into oblivion. Even now he could feel the growing darkness, the chill even among the fires still raging on the bridge. And Gor had to admit that it felt quite pleasant. ******** Netar Main Bridge “Status report,” Gul Horan commanded. “We’ve lost four vessels-two Hidekis and two Galors,” Kolza promptly reported, grief evident in his voice. “And what of the Breen or Federation ships,” Horan asked more mildly, “What of the Leljan?” Though he knew killing the ober-gul was necessary, Horan regretted it. Yarec had been a true patriot, but unfortunately a misguided one. “Glinn Sepala has just sent word that the Leljan was destroyed,” Kolza solemnly remarked. After a moment’s pause, he more cheerfully reported his next bit of news, “All the Breen ships have been either destroyed or pushed into the subspatial tears,” Kolza stopped as cheers erupted among the bridge crew. “For Cardassia!” Horan pumped a fist in the air. “Legate Damar will be pleased.” “The Starfleet vessel was also lost,” Kolza reported, “but several escape pods did manage to eject.” “Shall I target them sir,” the weapons officer asked. Kolza winced. Horan rubbed his chin as he pondered his alternatives. He hated the Dominion, but he had no love for Starfleet either. In fact, it had only been last month that he had considered them the true enemy, the major impediment to Cardassian destiny. However, things had changed drastically since then. Damar’s call had stirred something long buried in his heart. And he and many other loyal Cardassians had answered it. “All right Kolza,” he huffed. “In the interest of furthering our newfound alliance with the Federation, scoop up as many life pods as you can. I guarantee you that we will return them to Federation space.” ******
Re: The Warm Up ****** Cardassia Prime Central Command Headquarters Subahdar Rufaro didn’t know how long he could maintain his bended posture of supplication. His joints were already starting to creak. Legate Broca stood over the prostrating Son’a, doing his best to hide his fear. The broad-features on the dark-skinned Cardassian’s face were twisted in disbelief. “Gul Horan has been a loyal member of the Central Command for over twenty-years. I find his so-called betrayal no more than a cover for your own desertion.” Rufaro looked up at the looming Cardassian, indignation flashing through his rheumy eyes. He stood up slowly, eyeing Broca. To his credit, the legate didn’t flinch, which surprised Weyoun. He hadn’t chosen Broca to succeed Damar for his courage. He had been chosen because of his finely honed sense of self-preservation. Broca would follow any order so long as it saved his scaled neck. “I was there… we have some of the assault recorded.” “On long range sensors,” Broca retorted. “Why is that?” “Because we were trying to evade the growing subspace distortions sweeping from Vilkatis III, to inform the Founder of Horan’s treachery in fear that there were other conspirators of Horan’s and Damar’s here on Prime. Her safety was our primary concern,” Rufaro declared with a straight face. Weyoun was impressed. He didn’t totally believe Rufaro’s version of the events that had occurred in the Vilkatis Minor System, however there was very little that could be done about that. The fact was that the Dominion forces stationed in the Alpha Quadrant needed allies since the Bajoran wormhole was closed to them, and they had been unsuccessful in finding or constructing an alternate route home. The Son’a front provided nothing if not a buffer to keep the Alshain, the latest members of the Federation Alliance, at bay. Plus, their production of ketracel-white was vital to insuring the continued loyalty of the Jem’Hadar. Many of the ketracel-white facilities in Dominion-occupied Cardassian space had been demolished or sabotaged by Damar’s Cardassian Liberation Movement. The traitor knew definitely how to hurt them, but Weyoun would never admit it to anyone but himself. The two continued to squabble until the chamber doors opened. The Founder glided in, accompanied by another Breen. His striated uniform was adorned with the gold trimmings denoting a Thot. Weyoun hid his distress over the Founder’s deteriorating condition. Her countenance was flaky, with pieces hanging from her body. Instead of voicing concern, Weyoun bowed. “Founder, you grace us with your presence.” She waved dismissively. “Weyoun, Legate Broca, and Subahdar Rufaro,” she gracefully replied, nodding to each. “I introduce you to Thot Pran. Thot Pran will now be assuming command of the Breen forces, and will be Supreme Commander of all Dominion forces from now on.” The Breen general nodded curtly, expressing his gratitude. Weyoun couldn’t hide his displeasure quickly enough. The Founder glared at him. “Do you care to speak Weyoun? Do you disagree with this decision?” “No Founder,” he said, feeling awful for lying to a god. He must have known she knew he was deceiving her. How could she not? She was divine after all. But in her infinite compassion, she allowed him to continue breathing. “Excellent,” the Founder said. “Now explain to me what happened to our strike force in the Vilkatis Minor System.” ****** Starbase 375 Station Commander’s Ready Room “You’re preaching to the choir Admiral,” Captain Terrence Glover replied with a grim smile. Rear Admiral Salk looked momentarily confused, his pencil thin, grayish eyebrows beetling as he sought to make sense of Glover’s analogy. Seconds later the Vulcan admiral nodded in understanding. “Your enthusiasm for this assignment is commendable. It will be very dangerous.” “What part of the Alpha Quadrant isn’t dangerous these days?” Glover’s smile slowly faded. The Cuffe had recently been cleared to return to active duty after the damages it incurred during the Second Battle of Chin’toka. Unfortunately, Cuffe had been one of the many allied ships to be blasted by the Breen’s energy dampening weapon. The only thing that had prevented Cuffe from sharing the fate of so many other similarly stricken vessels was Lt. Commander Pedro Rojas, his Chief Engineer. At the cost of his own life, Rojas had found a way to restart Cuffe’s engines, giving them enough impulse power to limp away. Glover had been burning with a desire to avenge his friend’s death ever since. It had nearly consumed him, his anger and hatred of the Dominion fueled even more by his grief. “Captain Glover is correct,” Lt. Commander Ivan Cherenkov added. “We’re more than accustomed to risk, and are very prepared to take on anything the Dominion has to throw at us.” The Russian’s face was a mask of determination. “I have read many of your after-action reports,” Salk replied. “Your competence and adaptability has been proven on numerous occasions. But for this mission those skills might be tested like never before.” “I like tests,” Glover replied with total confidence. “For the most part we’ve overcome each one thus far. I’m certain we will do so again, on this mission, and the ones that follow.” “I hope so,” Salk crisply replied, with an unsettling trace of sadness. “If any of the taskforce survived, we’ll bring them home,” Glover promised. “Those soldiers deserve a heroes’ welcome and the Cuffe will do its part to insure they get one.” “Excellent,” Salk showed uncharacteristic relief. “You will rendezvous with the Yalta and the Mashuda at the following coordinates,” the admiral paused to hand Glover a padd with the data. Glover quickly glanced over it before handing it to Commander Cherenkov. When the Russian handed the padd back to Glover, he placed it on the admiral’s desk. “Permission to be dismissed sir?” “Permission granted,” Salk replied. NEXT...THE MAIN EVENT! *******
Re: The Warm Up A Dominion War story. I like. And, of course, you have my permission to use my characters. If you so choose to. I'll be reading.
Re: The Warm Up Sorry Dnoth, But it's not quite a Dominion War story. I had written a smaller introductory scene, but in the attempts to flesh it out more I came up with more stuff. The next scene jumps forward and then there's another jump. I am thinking about doing a flashback or two though. Hopefully you'll see what I mean when I post again.
Re: The Warm Up The Breen make an excellent foil--especially as so little is known about them, giving you a fairly clear field to work in. It's a shame Pedro didn't make it through the war--I liked him--but then, that's one of the nice things about backstories--characters never really die as you can always write more adventures with them. Looking forward to more.
Re: The Warm Up Excellent job fleshing out the backstory here with the drama and angst of the Dominion War. I’m looking forward to seeing where you take the characters from here. One question, have you every previously cited how and where Pedro Rojas met his end? That sounds like a fantastic, yet gut-wrenching story in and of itself.
Re: The Warm Up I mentioned Pedro's death in a throwaway line in "The Valley of Peace" in one of Glover's introductory passages. I think I've probably mentioned it once or twice in regards to Juanita Rojas, but I haven't written his death scene. I'm open to you, Dave, or any of the other guys taking a crack at it if you would like.
Re: The Warm Up Alot of setup here and mystery too. Not really sure what this is going to be about yet as you made it clear it is not a Dominion War story. But every story featuring Terrance Glover and co promises to be a lot of fun. Let's see where you take this ...