Dark Territory: Aftershocks

[DarKush]

This is my revised version of the story I previously posted. It takes place after Dark Territory: Fall Out and Star Trek: Independence-The Way of the Gun.

I would like to thank Dnoth, Gibraltar, and Xeris for events, ideas, and characters that helped inspire this story. I would also like to thank the other members of United Trek who read and reviewed my rough drafts. I hope everyone else also enjoys the completed version of Aftershocks.

 

[DarKush]

Prologue

DARK TERRITORY:
AFTERSHOCKS


PROLOGUE


USS Tuscarora
Vilkatis Minor System
Beta Quadrant
November 2375


Captain Ra-Nesh clutched his armrests. “Helm full power,” the Efrosian yelled over 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 Barth 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!” Barth 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 Barth to fall back. He wanted the last kill. It was Gor’s by right as mission commander. Barth 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.”
*****

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 Yagar 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.”

Yagar 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,” Yagar 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.”
*******

 

[DarKush]

Re: Prologue

*******

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!”


********

Netar
Main Bridge


Gul Yagar 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 Yagar 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 Barth 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 Barth 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. Barth 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?” Barth 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,” Barth’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, Barth 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.

*******


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 Yagar’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 Yagar 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,” Yagar asked more mildly, “What of the Leljan?” Though he knew killing the ober-gul was necessary, Yagar regretted it. Barth 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!” Yagar 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. Yagar 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.”

******

 

[DarKush]

Re: Prologue

******

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 Yagar 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 Yagar ’s treachery in fear that there were other conspirators of Yagar ’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. “Here are the mission specifics,” 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.

*******

 

[DarKush]

Part One: The Great Unknown

*******

PART ONE:
THE GREAT UNKNOWN


Deep Space Nine
Quark’s Bar
December 2376


“Back again Terrence?” Admiral Monica Covey said over the din. Normally Monica preferred a balcony seat, but Quark’s was packed to the gills tonight. The oily Ferengi was able to secure a reasonably secluded table off in one of the corners, which still gave her a good view of the patrons. Though her rank and her role as station commander created a necessary, and needed distance, among her and everyone else onboard DS9, Covey still liked to mingle. Glover tersely nodded as he took the empty chair she offered him. A waiter appeared seconds later. Glover made an order and then regarded the admiral.

“Drinking alone Admiral?”

“Not anymore,” she said, “Now that you’re here. I don’t need to ask what brings you back to DS9.” She looked around Glover to spy the hunched back of a retreating Yridian shuffling out of the bar.

Glover’s expression turned even sourer. “I’d rather not discuss it if it’s all the same to you.”

Covey shrugged. She knew that Glover had taken an extended leave of absence to track down his missing father. Even after Admiral Glover’s role in stopping the Romulans from engineering Benzar’s secession from the Federation in late August when the ‘confession’ of Lt. Daneeka, DS9’s former Security Chief, and one of Samson’s compatriots had been placed on subspace by her Romulan captors.

The ultimate fate of Ousanas Dar, another former DS9 senior officer, and Admiral Glover hadn’t been revealed. But Monica knew enough about the Romulans and their treatment of prisoners not to hold out much hope.

Terrence, however, was far more hopeful, or obsessed, depending on a person’s point of view. Covey knew she couldn’t be too judgmental. If her father had vanished, she wouldn’t rest either to she saw him again, alive or not.

“Okay, let’s talk about something less inflammatory,” she said, nodding at one of several large viewscreens that Quark had set up so that his patrons could observe the Federation Presidential election results.

She knew that Quark’s seeming civic mindedness was driven by a betting pool on how badly Norah Satie was going to clobber President Santiago. Lt. Faltyne, who had succeeded Daneeka as Security Head, had informed her about the Ferengi’s scheme, but Covey had told him to hold off on putting a stop to it.

With her days quickly winding down on DS9 she had decided to give Quark a break, at least once. As far as she was concerned Quark was Colonel Jatarn’s problem now, and would soon be Colonel Kira’s again. The tough Bajoran was almost back up to full speed after nearly six months of rehabilitation.

Glover winced. “You really know how to lighten the mood Admiral,” he said. “This election was an exercise in futility.” The waiter returned holding a large frosted mug. Glover paid the waiter and took a sip.

“Some might’ve said that about Santiago’s last year in office,” she quipped. “And I’m off duty,” she said, gesturing at her sky blue Tholian silk blouse, “calling me Monica is perfectly acceptable.” Terrence was also dressed in civilian clothes, all black, and form fitting. Monica softly sucked a tooth in appraisal of the man’s toned physique. It had been far too long since she had enjoyed the company of an organic man not taking orders from her…at least not military ones. Holograms were poor substitutes.

“Santiago wasn’t that bad,” Glover said, warming up both to the subject and the admiral a little bit. “He did lead us through the war.”

“Yeah, but the peace was a killer for him,” Covey remarked. Glover replied with an exasperated look. Her candor was unsettling him, Monica realized. She liked that. “He was just overwhelmed, and with all the crap that came our way this year, I don’t think anyone could’ve come through it smelling like a rose.” As if she had conjured the man, the media coverage switched to Santiago campaign headquarters. The President, a tall, dapper man stood solemnly at a podium, his Bolian wife nervously clutching his arm. Over the picture, a Federation News Service reporter was summarizing the list of tragedies that had befallen Santiago, the latest being the freak death of his Chief of Staff Garth Logan in a transporter accident several months ago. The report stopped abruptly and cut right to the president.

Martin Santiago had never looked so winded and broken. He made little eye contact as he conceded the election and quickly left the stage. FNS quickly switched coverage to the raucous Satie camp. Covey took stock of the news of Santiago’s defeat among the crowd at Quark’s. Covey was surprised to see very little enthusiasm among the patrons. For the ones not overly concerned about Dabo, the holosuites, or their drinks, there was a general feeling of uncertainty as the smiling President-elect took the stage. Covey’s eyes were drawn to her entourage. “Isn’t that Lt. Commander Cherenkov?”

Glover squinted at the nearest screen. “Yes.” He didn’t add anything else and Monica didn’t press him. She had learned about Ivan Cherenkov due to his actions on DS9, before Covey assumed command. Cherenkov had stolen the Defiant’s cloaking device in order to enter Cardassian space undetected. At the time, Cardassian militants had kidnapped Captain Glover.

Ivan and most of Glover’s senior staff had been sentenced to Jaros II as punishment. Glover had opted to share in that punishment. Unfortunately, their starship, the Aegis had been destroyed by another group of Cardassian insurgents, during their incarceration, and now Glover’s crew was scattered. She felt sorry for the man. In many ways, his terrible year was symbolic of the ordeal the entire Federation seemed mired in. It almost made her wonder if they had really won the war or not? After all, does anyone really ‘win’ a war?

The uneasy hush that fell over Quark’s was broken by the arrival of a troupe of Klingons. Three of the fearsome warriors, two males and a female shoved their way through the crowd, eliciting a few dirty stares but no vocal protests.

Glover remarked. “Admiral…Monica…I’ve appreciated the company, but I have to go,” he downed the rest of his drink. “There’s my ride.”

*****

Lake Cataria
Betazed
January 2377


Commander Keith Braener ran his hand through the gently lapping waves. “So, when we’re you going to tell me?” He kept his eyes focused on the dazzling azure waves, instead of facing the person sharing the tiny canoe with him. Keith had imagined this going better, but he should’ve known differently.

You know you shouldn’t keep things so important from me? The voice buzzed though his thoughts.

Why do I have to tell you when you can enter my mind at will? He rejoined, flavoring his thoughts with disapproval. He hated it when Nelita read his thoughts.

I don’t do that…often, she conceded. But you’re wearing your feelings and thoughts around you like a noose, she replied.

“That’s an apt description,” he wryly responded. “Could we go back to talking please?”

“Of course Keith,” Nelita said. “And you still haven’t answered my question.” Braener sighed before looking at his lover. They had been involved off and on since their Academy days, over twenty years ago now, but had never found the time to marry.

Keith had come close to proposing several times over the last year during his extended stay as part of Starfleet’s recovery efforts on Betazed. There was still much work to be done to return Betazed back to form, and its occupation by the Dominion had been considered mild compared to other planets that had fallen to the Jem’Hadar during the war.

Braener didn’t like leaving a job not even halfway done, but he also knew there was little impact he could continue to make there even if he stayed a lifetime. He wanted to get back out into space, to explore. He wasn’t a planet-bound person.

Unfortunately, he knew that Nelita was, at least where Betazed was concerned. And how could Keith blame her, this was her homeworld, and these were her people, her family, in desperate need of help. Keith wouldn’t love her if she was the type of person that would turn her back on them. He wondered, feared, that Nelita might see him that way if he had told her about his promotion. “I…I just didn’t know how you would react?” He admitted me.

The red-haired Betazed frowned. “At least give me a chance by being open with me,” she said.

“Okay,” Braener sighed again. “I’ve been offered a promotion.”

“Congratulations,” Nelita smiled with genuine joy, even though Keith knew she already knew about it. “I’m so proud of you. What’s the ship?”

“Actually I won’t be assigned to a ship, not initially,” Keith couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice. “President Satie has suspended new starship construction in order to shift those resources to continuing rebuilding efforts,” Braener repeated almost verbatim what Admiral Rogers had told him.

“So, where will you be stationed?” Nelita said, sharing his disappointment.

“Deep Space Nine,” Braener replied. Nelita scowled. “What’s wrong Nel?”

“DS9’s quite a handful don’t you think?”

“What do you mean by that?” Keith asked, genuinely curious. He had his own preconceived notions about the famous spaceport, but he wanted to hear another opinion.

“It’s become quite notorious over the years,” the Betazoid answered. “Perhaps more so in the past year than even during the wars against the Klingons and the Dominion. And its CO’s don’t seem to fare that well either.” Nelita observed, making reference to Captain Sisko, reported to have ascended to a higher plane of existence at the close of the Dominion conflict, and Colonel Kira Nerys, the victim of a terrible neurological assault that the woman was still recovering from.

“Admiral Covey seemed to do all right,” Braener replied, referring to the station’s last commander.

“Is that why they’ve shuttled her off to Alshain Proper?” Nelita replied. Keith was always amazed at his lover’s grasp of current events and insider information. Nelita had spent only a few years in Starfleet before she had joined the Bureau of Agricultural Affairs and became an assistant to one of its High Commissioners. That had placed her in a position where she made a lot of contacts and was privy to a lot of information. And Nelita loved being in the know. Keith had often joked that the woman should’ve been a member of Starfleet Intelligence. Nelita would always rejoin that they would fire her because as much as she loved gossip, she loved sharing it even more.

“I don’t think Covey was forced off DS9.” Braener said. “She is the Alshain expert, and after the blow ups we had with the Exarchate in the Briar Patch and Sector 443, having her take the lead there is perhaps the wisest thing.”

“Time will tell,” Nelita was skeptical.

“Yeah it will,” Keith replied.

“When are you leaving?” She asked. Braener tugged at his collar.

“I don’t need to read minds to know that gesture,” Nelita frowned. “How many days?”

“Well…it’s more like hours,” Keith finally admitted.

“You can’t be serious?” Braener avoided eye contact with her. Tell me you’re joking, the thought popped into his head.

“Sorry love,” Keith said. “Admiral Rogers said they need me immediately. There’s an upcoming scientific mission of some sort and they would rather have me as skipper of the Defiant than the Bajoran commander currently running the station. Things still are a little shaky with the Bajoran’s after Premier Lang’s assassination.”

Grumblings about the Federation ‘occupation’ of Bajor had begun anew after the station’s weapons systems had been subverted and used to destroy the Cardassian leader’s ship.

Many feared that those same weapons could be turned on Bajor itself one day. Some Bajorans felt that their people were becoming over reliant on the Federation, and that Starfleet was a gentler version of the Cardassian militia. This feeling had only increased with the return to Bajor of the Bajora Tava, an offshoot of religious extremists.

Braener hadn’t learned much about them in the intelligence reports he had received about the Bajoran sector, but he planned to brush up on all the vagaries of Bajoran history and culture when he arrived on station.

Nelita grabbed one of his hands, cupping it gently. “Since we don’t have that much time, and I don’t know when I’ll see you again…” The tip of her tongue slid suggestively out of her parted lips.

Keith’s smile spread slowly. “Yes?”

“Let’s get our blood pumping,” Nelita suggested.

“You’re reading my mind again,” Braener grinned, “Naughty girl.” Nelita quickly pulled off her shirt and shorts, a deep purple bikini top and bottom contrasted nicely with her alabaster skin.

“Hold on,” Braener pulled off his shirt, and shorts, the boat rocking with his fervid efforts. Standing up, he went to embrace her, but Nelita stepped back. She chuckled.

“You’re not much of a mind reader are you Keith?” The Betazed said. “I was talking about having a nice swim. Lake Cataria’s waters are said to have medicinal properties. And you might need an extra coat of protection with where you’re going.” Before he could answer, she dived into the lake.
*****

 

[DarKush]

Re: Part One: The Great Unknown

*****

Deep Space Nine
Promenade


“I still can’t believe I’ve told you this,” Ghirta Dulcett’s scaly gray skin prevented her embarrassment from being evident on her face, but her voice was loaded with it. “But I needed someone to talk to. I-I don’t know what else to do.”

“Don’t worry,” Lt. Ezri Dax said softly, giving the Cardassian woman’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “This is a strictly confidential conversation okay?” The Trill put on her best reassuring smile.

Dulcett looked at the woman, eventually matching the woman’s smile. “I trust you, I suppose. Things are just so different on Prime, even now. Knowledge such as this could always be used as a weapon.”

“I don’t see how,” Dax replied. Dulcett pursed her lips.

“You don’t see how my affair with the new Kai would create a political firestorm on both our worlds?” Her voice was now thick with disbelief and a hint of suspicion.

“No, I understand that,” Dax replied. “I just don’t see how I would benefit from the information, or even the Federation. New strains in relations between Bajor and the Cardassian Republic aren’t in anyone’s interests except the Cardassian insurgents.”

“Or the Bajora Tava,” Dulcett quickly added. The woman couldn’t help but shiver when she spoke the name. Some of the Tava had only arrived a couple months ago on Bajor, but they were already making their presence felt. Before the Bajorans had rightly been skeptical, but largely welcoming of new ties with Cardassia.

The last time Dulcett had beamed down to Bajor she had felt a more noticeable chill. That feeling also wasn’t helped by several attacks against Cardassian and other non-Bajorans that had occurred recently, or Cardassian official Mintof Urlak’s call for sanctions against the Bajoran government, which he and many Cardassians feel had contributed to an atmosphere of violence. It was really getting messy, and Dulcett wanted no part of it.

However, she loved her job as relief coordinator. She felt she was really giving something back to Cardassians in need, in addition to building on mutual goodwill between her people and the Bajorans.

Furthermore she loved Sarkin Noma, and the child now growing inside her was the ultimate expression of that love. But she didn’t know how to tell him, or her family. But she had had to tell someone. And so far, she hadn’t regretted her decision.

Ezri had proven herself to be a competent officer and a good friend during Ghirta’s time on the station, and it felt good to not feel so alone anymore. “It would be just better to terminate this pregnancy, so that none would be the wiser.”

“You don’t mean that, and I’m sure that the Kai would disapprove too,” Dax said. “He’s a decent man. Much better than Wynn, give him a chance. The child is his as well.”

“I know, I know,” Ghirta whined like a petulant child and hated herself for it. “I’m just so…so afraid…” She left the statement hanging as she walked over to one of the view ports.

“Of what,” Ezri joined her.

“I…I don’t know,” Ghirta gazed out at the upper docking pylons. She knew that the station’s new Strategic Officer would be arriving soon. She was dressed in formal wear and Ezri also had on a long-coat.

Colonel Jatarn had already alerted them that the ship carrying Braener and several other new staff members would be arriving within the hour. They both expected the second call any moment, which had prompted them to leave Ezri’s cabin and proceed toward the upper docking bay.

They both watched silently as a Saber-class starship glided up to the only empty docking pylon. Ezri’s combadge chirped almost seconds later. After she answered it, she turned to Ghirta, “Let’s welcome the new neighbors.”

******

Deep Space Nine
Pylon Docking Bay 2


The rest of the senior staff was already lined up at the circular airlock leading to the starship. The only one missing was Lt. Commander Uhnari. The Haliian had left for Earth to attend the funeral of Admiral Samson Glover. Ezri quickly fell in beside Dr. Julian Bashir. He acknowledged her with a sharp nod, not the smile or subtle squeezed hand she was familiar to.

The last few months had seen a definite chill in their relationship. Julian was often called away on various medical emergencies or conferences, which he always accepted no matter how Ezri felt about it. His frequent absences and his new withdrawn demeanor had driven a wedge between them. She knew something was going on with him, and a part of her wanted to continue to reach out to him. But the more he denied anything was wrong, the more he dismissed her speculations, the more frustrated she got.

But the Trill pushed her own issues to the side as soon as the hatch cycled open and the station’s new Strategic Operations Officer crossed the threshold. A tall, lean man, with a hint of gray at the tips of his ash blond hair, Captain Keith Braener greeted them all with a big smile. Ezri found herself liking him immediately.

With his typical brusqueness, Colonel Jatarn Yaro stepped forward, wrapping Braener’s hand in his large one. The Bajoran pumped it furiously.

“Captain Braener, welcome to Deep Space Nine,” Yaro’s gravelly voice rumbled.

“Thank you sir, it’s an honor to be here,” Braener said, before turning to the other officers, “And I look forward to meeting each of you.”

“We have arranged such an opportunity in the Ward Room,” Jatarn said. “If you will follow me.”

*******

 

[DarKush]

Re: Part One: The Great Unknown

*******

Quantum Café
San Francisco, Earth
January 2377


Lt. Commander Aquiel Uhnari still had on the mourning dress she wore to the funeral. She had considered changing into something less solemn, but the grim proceedings had fatigued her.

She had never seen Captain Glover so vulnerable, openly crying as his father was being eulogized by his brother Sheldon, Admirals Shanthi, Jellico, and Ranar, Captain Shelby, and a Vulcan named T’Prell. Even President Satie sent a prerecorded holomessage of condolence. The Federation News Service was touting the state funeral as one of the biggest in Starfleet’s history.

Flanked by his wife Jasmine and oddly enough Captain Tryla Scott of the Chiron, both women seemed to have been propping him up at times throughout the funeral. Uhnari had wanted to see him after the funeral, but Glover had beamed away with Jasmine.

So, she and the small number of colleagues from the Aegis that had been able to attend the funeral had decided to meet at the Quantum Café for a little reminiscing to reduce the tremendous sense of loss Admiral Glover’s passing had given them all.

Some of the crew she hadn’t seen for months, but there was very little joy at the table. Pell Ojana, Tai Donar, Juanita Rojas, Amoros, Lomar, Satel, Victoria Pham, Zim, and Aquiel had all crowded around a large table. Very little was said, and what was mainly consisted of people talking to their half-empty glasses instead of each other. It was a very bleak affair.

Eventually Aquiel couldn’t take it anymore. She politely excused herself, said her goodbyes and left.

“Aquiel,” a voice scraped in the darkness. The Haliian tensed, her flight or fight response activating. “It’s me,” the voice said. “Ivan.” He stepped out of the shadow. Uhnari remained tense. The man’s intense blue eyes glowed in the street lights.

“It’s been a long time,” she said, “we missed you at the funeral.”

“I was there,” the man replied.

“I didn’t see you,” she countered. “And I’m sure Tai didn’t; because he asked me about you.”

“I didn’t want to be seen,” the Russian admitted. “However, I think I owed the Admiral and Captain Glover enough to pay my final respects.”

“I suppose that’s something at least,” she began to walk past him. He lightly grabbed her arm.

“You’re not happy to see me Aquiel?” He asked, genuine hurt in his voice. “It has been a long time.”

She looked at him, his blue eyes swirling with an almost manic energy. “I know…I thought you didn’t want to have anything to do with me. I mean you seem to have disappeared after Jaros II. I did try to contact you a few times, but I could never find you.”

He released her arm. “I’ve been busy,” was all he said. “I’m glad you didn’t forget about me.”

“How could I Ivan?” She asked. “For a while there I thought we might’ve really been something.”

“We could still be,” he said. “Oh, of course I forgot about Thorpe.” His expression hardened.

Aquiel shook her head. “Jeff and I are just friends.”

“Is that right?” The man’s voice warmed. “What happened?”

“That’s none of your business,” Uhnari chided. Ivan stepped back.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I really didn’t mean to pry.”

“Don’t worry, I would never let you pry,” she smiled.

“Yes, you were always good about keeping me in my place,” he replied.

“Damn right,” she chuckled. He joined in. It felt good to laugh again, after such a trying day. “So, are we just going to stand out in the street, or are you game for a nightcap?”

Ivan pursed his lips, tapping his temple. “You know, I’ve got a place you might enjoy, far more than this,” he gestured at the café.

“Let’s go,” Aquiel said.

*****

Ben’s Chili Bowl
Washington, DC, Earth


“What happened to the curry chicken and rice,” Uhnari asked before biting into a French fry covered in spicy chili.

“A man’s got to diversify,” Ivan said around a mouthful of cheeseburger. “And you can see that my dieting excursions haven’t affected my waistline.” Aquiel made a point to gaze at the man’s chiseled body, displayed nicely in the tight black tunic and pants he wore. She whistled.

Ivan laughed, almost choking on his burger. There was something different about him. The air of danger, menace was still there. But Ivan no longer seemed so robotic. He had loosened up considerably since their relationship on the Aegis. She guessed prison, or whatever the hell he had been doing after leaving the stockade had actually been good for him.

“So, are you going to tell me what you’ve been up to since Jaros II?” The Haliian asked innocently.

“Only if you tell me what happened between you and Commander Thorpe,” the Russian shot back.

“Stalemate,” Uhnari declared.

“That’s fine with me,” Ivan said, finishing off his burger.


******

Tranquility Hotel
Copernicus City, Luna


“I didn’t intend for this to happen,” Aquiel said, sliding off of Ivan. The Russian had to take a moment to catch his breath.

“You’ll get no complaints from me,” he sat up, and poured two glasses of Saurian brandy. He downed one and presented the other to Aquiel.

“No,” she waved it away, “I think that’s what got me in trouble in the first place.”

“It was your idea to wash down the cheeseburgers and chili fries with some spirits,” Ivan said, taking the other shot. He winced at the good burn.

“You’re an enabler you know that,” Uhnari charged.

“I learn new things about myself everyday,” he grinned, turning back towards her. She sat up in the bed.

“Hold on,” she said. “I think we’re moving a little too fast here.”

Ivan frowned. “You’re not enjoying yourself?”

“I didn’t say that,” she admitted.

“Then what’s the problem,” he countered. “Look Aquiel, I messed up before. I wanted too much too soon. Things are different now, I’m different. This doesn’t have to be anymore than what it is now.”

She regarded silently for almost a minute, judging his words. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he said.

“Ivan, I don’t want to hurt you or lead you on,” the Haliian declared.

“You won’t; besides, I’m a big boy,” he stated. “I don’t want to hurt you either.” He gently touched her cheek. “But sometimes I just want to feel a connection you know?”

She nodded, reaching up to pull his face to hers. Between kisses, she murmured, “I do.”

******


Lily Sloane Elementary School
New York City, Earth


Aquiel sat beside Jeffrey Thorpe on the wooden bench watching his students throwing their energies into recess.

“You’re really happy here?” She asked him. He nodded.

“I’ve never felt more content,” he answered. “I mean, space has its adventures, its treasures, but nothing is more precious than the light that comes on in a student’s eyes when they grasp something new.”

“As long as you’re happy I suppose,” Uhnari said.

“Enough about me, how are you doing?” Jeffrey asked. “How are things at the station?”

Uhnari exhaled. “A state of flux as usual. Curbeam left to attend Advanced Tactical Training at the Academy and Admiral Covey has been reassigned.”

“Really,” Thorpe’s eyebrows rose. “Why? She was doing a great job there.”

“For one, Colonel Kira is almost fully recovered and the Bajorans would like one of their own in charge. Two, Command wanted Covey back on Alshain Proper.”

“Yeah, I saw on the news that the Alshain have decided to allow at least a Federation legation back on Proper.”

The Haliian nodded. “Diplomatic relations aren’t completely normalized yet.”

“But a legation is a start,” Thorpe offered.

“That’s what I always liked about you Jeff,” Uhnari grinned. “You are so damned positive.” He blushed.

“I wouldn’t say that necessarily,” he replied. “It’s just that I try to see the good in everything. But those last couple years for me in the Fleet….”

“No need to rehash old history,” Aquiel replied. “We’ve had this conversation before, like about a thousand times.”

“Well, thank you for at least trying to keep me on board,” Thorpe smiled. “I hadn’t known you cared.”

“I knew it was a lost cause,” the Haliian teased. “If Ramirez couldn’t keep you trekking no one could.”

“Ha.”

“So, how is Liana?”

“I don’t know,” Thorpe admitted. “We’ve sort of lost touch. After a while I gave up. If she wants to contact me she can find me.”

“Fair enough,” Uhnari said. “So, is there anyone else?”

“Geez,” Thorpe exhaled. “You sound like my parents.” Aquiel’s laugh was musical. Thorpe’s heart pinched. “Aqi, can I ask you something?”

Her eyes widened, “Sure Jeff, anything.”

“Why didn’t things…happen for us?”

She started to speak, and then closed her lips. “I really can’t say,” the Haliian confessed. “It’s just one of those things I suppose; if we had tried a relationship and it hadn’t worked out then we not might not be here right now.”

“I guess you’re right,” he leaned back against the bench’s backrest. “I’m glad we’re still friends.”

“So am I,” Aquiel conceded, “because I really need a friend right now.”

“Really? What’s wrong?”

“I…saw Ivan last night,” the Haliian cautiously began, avoiding eye contact with him. “We…umm….”

“Stop, there’s kids present,” Jeff said. “And some of them are Vulcans,” he pointed towards his ears. “We don’t want to corrupt them too soon.”

“Right,” Uhnari agreed. “Innocence is a rare commodity these days.”

“You’re right,” Thorpe concurred. “So, what happened with you and Ivan?”

“I think I made a mistake,” the Haliian began.
“Your mouth is saying that, but you’re eyes are saying something different,” he said. Uhnari batted her eye lashes.

“Is that so?” She said, winking. “What are my eyes saying then?”

“You enjoyed spending time with Ivan again, even though you feel you shouldn’t have.” Thorpe concluded. Aquiel looked away from him.

“I guess…maybe you’re right. I’m just real hesitant about going back down that road with Ivan. He has some real trust issues.”

“Don’t we all,” Thorpe said. “But everyone can change.”

“I know that too,” Uhnari replied, “and I did sense a change in Ivan. He seemed more settled.”

“That’s a good thing right?”

“I’m not sure. There is so much about Ivan I don’t know about. So much is classified.”

“Sitting around, talking to me instead of him won’t get you closer to unraveling the mystery of Ivan Cherenkov,” Jeff said.

“You’re just a font of wisdom today,” Aquiel smiled. Thorpe shrugged.

“I can’t claim credit. I get it all from my students. They see the world with much clearer eyes than we adults do. We always find a way to make things more complicated.”

“That we do,” the Haliian agreed. She patted Jeff’s knee. “Thank you so much.”

“For what?”

“For just being you, and being there for me.” She reached over and pecked his cheek. Thorpe turned beet red. Several of his students snickered, one pointing an accusing finger at them.

“Mr. Thorpe has a girlfriend;” he singsonged, “Mr. Thorpe has a girlfriend.”

“Cut that out,” Jeff said, his voice laden with embarrassment. He repeated the instruction before the students finally went back to playing.

Aquiel squeezed his shoulder as she stood up. “Jeff, you’ve really got a way with these children. I’m glad you’ve found your place in this galaxy.”

“Thank you,” he rose, and embraced her. “I know you’ll find your place to.”

“I already have,” she said softly, “and it scares me.”

*******

 

[DarKush]

Re: Part One: The Great Unknown

*******

Elloran Cruiser Kemado
Rim of Vilkatis Minor System
March 2377


Zene looked at the viewer with increasing dread. The Vilkatis Minor System was straight ahead, a large spread of writhing, tortured space. He had read the FNS reports about the tragically successful mission of an allied strike force on Vilkatis III, but the details had been classified.

The Elloran shuddered. If whatever the allied soldiers had died preventing was worse than what loomed before him, he was glad for their sacrifice. And now he was about to make his own, or so he intended for the Alshain frigate pursuing them to think. Once again, the Alshain commander’s voice issued over the main communication system.

“Surrender or we will be forced to destroy you.”

Outside of several well placed shots, the Alshain commander had been making the same threat for a few minutes. There was a darkly humorous part of Zene that was tempted to ask the man why didn’t he make good on his promise? Perhaps they didn’t want to go any further into the system, or be exposed to the effects of the subspace weapons Zene feared they were testing.

The only other thing Zene could fathom why he and his crew weren’t space dust by now was that somehow the Alshain had figured out that he was former Starfleet, and maybe even that he had served on the Aegis, a Prometheus-class ship. The Prometheus class was the most advanced starship in all of Starfleet.

Enabled with a multi-vector assault mode, Prometheus-class ships could separate into three fully capable weapons platforms. Little good it did us at Bomos, the Elloran thought darkly, remembering the destruction of Aegis at the hands of Cardassian militants almost a year ago.

Since that time, he had been adrift. He was reassigned to another starship, but he had never felt comfortable there. Though many had felt the Aegis was too stark and sterile, it had been his first assignment out of the Academy, and he had grown attached to the ship fairly quickly. In addition, he had grown attached to the people he served with.

His former CO, Captain Terrence Glover had even chosen him, over more experienced hands to serve as Alpha Shift bridge officer. Glover had even pulled him aside a few times and expressed his appreciation of Zene’s attitude and work ethic.

Thinking about the captain and all of the friends he had made aboard the Aegis, Zene wondered what they would think of him now after he had resigned his commission to join the fight against the Alshain ethnic cleansing of former Son’a Imperium, on which many Ellorans and Tarlac resided.

“Are you going to finally answer him this time sir?” Ena replied with a jaundiced smile. “This guy’s undergarments must be in a bunch.” Zene grinned in response to the comely Tarlac’s humorous commentary.

“Think we should ask him?” Zene replied. Before Ena could answer, the ship rocked. She fell toward him, and he captured the sallow-skinned woman in his arms. He held her a few seconds longer than he should have, but Ena didn’t seem to mind. A loud snort broke the mood.

Ceven, a wiry Bolian, was the third person sharing the circular master-display that housed the Kemado’s primary navigation, operations, and tactical systems networks. He grunted with obvious displeasure at Zene and Ena’s flippant remarks.

Ceven, a former member of the Maquis, had joined the Elloran and Tarlac liberation struggle more so to fight someone, anyone, than because he cared about the widespread sentient rights abuses that were occurring. Not a pleasant person to be around, Ceven nonetheless was an excellent tactical officer.

“You two can get a room after this is over, if we get through this,” replied Gref, the crusty old Elloran mechanic manning the propulsion console, situated behind them, with all the customary acerbity that had become almost a trademark. Zene and Ena glanced at each other once more, sharing an embarrassed look.

“Okay,” Zene said slowly, “Back to business.” The young Elloran was certain that that the Federation would be forced to intervene again if they could expose the Exarchate’s illegal subspace weapon’s testing. He checked the shield strength at his station. “Shield’s holding pretty well.”

Ena skimmed the navigation data from her terminal before looking back up at Zene. “Time to lose these bastards,” she declared, as she plotted in a new course. The Kemado shot forward into the void.


******

Starbase 116
Arboretum


“If we don’t act in good faith, how do you think we’re going to improve relations with the Exarchate’s new leadership?” Admiral Monica Covey cut right to the point.

“That’s your job, not the Administration’s,” Federation Commissioner Selene McCall retorted. “ I have little faith that we can trust anything T’Riav and his band of thugs say.”

“Does President Satie share that view?” Covey’s tone was bleak. She hoped that the new President wasn’t as dim as the woman currently representing her. But the simple fact that McCall was a high official in the new administration didn’t hold out much promise. The stout, blonde woman looked aghast at the question.

“Of course not, no,” she protested. “It’s just a personal view, and I believe a fair and balanced one, especially in light of the Exarchate’s actions in the Briar Patch and at Yashk’lin IV.”

Covey sighed. She hated sounding like an Alshain apologist, but she had found herself in that role far too often of late. She often wondered now if she hadn’t been chosen to head the Federation legation on Alshain Proper so that her enemies could take pot shots at her, because it seemed like she had a big target etched onto her back since she had left DS9.

“To be fair Commissioner,” Covey tried to remove the annoyance from her voice, but failed. “The Exarchate was responsible for the Briar Patch, but rogue elements, with Klingon assistance, had a hand in destroying Yashk’lin IV.”

“Ah yes,” McCall’s smile was cold. “I almost forgot about the Starship Gibraltar’s role in that tragic affair as well. You can be sure that many people in the Administration have better memories than I.” Covey seethed at the veiled threat against the Gibraltar. She had promoted Donald Sandhurst to skipper the ship. Monica could take whatever McCall or her colluders threw at her, but the idea that they would bring Donald, Liana, Pell, or any other Gibraltar crewmen into this made her blood boil.

“What do you want?” Covey snapped.

“Nothing from you…for now,” McCall’s voice was triumphant. “We merely wished to inform you of our plan to elicit your opinion, you being the Alshain expert and all.” She sneered when she said ‘expert.’ “And now that I have done so, and you have given your honest opinion, this conversation is over.”

No, it’s just begun, Covey thought.

*******

 

[DarKush]

Re: Part One: The Great Unknown

*******

Deep Space Nine
Cargo-Hold Eight
March 2377


Lt. Okala Lahn pulled to a stop at the top of the key. Too late, Security Chief Jonin Faltyne moved to block her shot. By the time he reached her, the “Adarak Assassin” had launched the orange ball in her hands.

It swished cleanly through the basketball net at about the same time the Andorian got his arms up in her face.

“Game,” she smiled nervously. Faltyne lowered his arms slowly, his body slumping with dejection.

“One more game,” Faltyne looked to Lt. Commander Aquiel Uhnari. Hands on her knees, skin slick with sweat, and her lungs burning as she sought to consume as much oxygen as possible, it took the Haliian almost a minute to respond.

“I think that’s enough. I’m sure either the captain or the colonel will be calling on us any minute.” The Security Chief frowned, but didn’t respond.

“Next time,” Faltyne remarked grimly to Okala, his face set with determination. But eventually his higher metabolism forced the Andorian to take a knee.

“Are all Andorians gluttons for punishment?” The Bajoran Science Officer asked playfully, bouncing the ball. The blue-skinned Faltyne glowered, his skin flushing a deeper azure.

Aquiel laughed. It was good to see both Okala and Faltyne teasing each other. It was a sign that things might be on the upswing for all of them.

Initially Aquiel hadn’t put much stock in Counselor Dax’s suggestion that she take part in Faltyne’s and Okala’s group therapy sessions. The two had endured terrible personal tragedies recently, Faltyne a hostage of the Crimson Shadow militants and Okala still coping with the murder of Lt. Easun, who had been the Tactical Officer on the Defiant.

Aquiel, dealing with her own personal issues: the lost of seventy-five crewmen on the Aegis, the break up of her relationship with Ivan and Jeff’s abrupt resignation from Starfleet had left her with some deep emotional scar tissue.

After scaling the peak of Mount Uushuru with Faltyne and engaging in a series of furious springball matches with Okala, Aquiel realized how wrong she had been about Dax’s recommendation.

If nothing else, the sessions allowed her to get to know the two junior officers on a more personal level, which would enhance their working relationship a great deal. And when it came time for her to choose a physical activity, she decided on basketball, which had been Jeff’s favorite pastime. It was her way of honoring the service he had performed as commanding officer of both Starships Aegis and Defiant.

“All right everyone, time to hit the showers,” Aquiel said. Everyone looked as disappointed as Aquiel felt having to give the order. Even the two least basketball-inclined among them, Lt. Nog and junior Lt. Hetis.

As Aquiel made her way to the door, it opened. Ivan Cherenkov regarded the Haliian with an uncharacteristically askew smile. “Miss me?”

*****
Deep Space Nine
Ward Room


As soon as Ivan had mentioned the Vilkatis Minor System, Aquiel’s attention span had vanished. The Haliian remembered her last swim in that devil’s sea when she had been Chief Engineer aboard the Cuffe. She shuddered before making eye contact with Commander Ivan Cherenkov. Sitting across the table, the Russian’s terse nod was an acknowledgement of sorts of the ordeal they had shared.

Once the commander had finished, Captain Braener replied. “I don’t think this is a wise use of our resources. With the halt on new starship construction, and Fleet Yards backed up with refit orders, needlessly risking any of our vessels isn’t something I think we need to do.”

“ ‘Needlessly sir’”? Cherenkov frowned. “This mission is of vital importance to the security of the Federation.”

“So you say,” Braener countered.

“I don’t ‘say’,” Cherenkov retorted, the emotional tone taking Aquiel aback. The Ivan she remembered had been almost robotic when speaking to a superior officer. Whatever disagreements he had, he would internalize them. She didn’t know whether to be unsettled or excited by the fire underlying his words. “The Federation Security Advisor and the Starfleet Commander-in-Chief say. I do. As we all do.”

Braener nodded tightly. “Fine, I’ll concede that point.” But the captain’s tone informed everyone that he would concede nothing. Aquiel couldn’t help note the similarities between both men. Both were ash blond, had piercing blue eyes, and similar builds. However, the captain’s features were far more delicate, not as pitted as Ivan’s.

“Commander Cherenkov,” Lt. Okala Lahn ventured, her halting voice a welcome antidote to the sweltering testosterone levels saturating the ward room. “Why not ask the Alshain for assistance or the right to travel in their territory? Perhaps a joint inspection is just the type of thing we need to smooth relations between the Federation and the Exarchate? The Alshain are only suspected of this activity, nothing has been proven. Don’t you think it’s wrong to prejudge them?”

Cherenkov turned slowly to the young Bajoran, favoring her with a slight smile. “Lieutenant,” he said quietly, a hint of sadness now in his voice. “If the Alshain have been using the Vilkatis Minor system to experiment with subspace weapons I doubt they will tell us. But it’s paramount that we find out. We can’t allow them to break the stipulations of the ceasefire.”

“Wouldn’t we be doing the same if enter their space without authorization and spy on them?” Aquiel had to ask. She couldn’t read the expression on Ivan’s face when he addressed her.

“I would rather be safe than sorry,” he replied.

“I agree with Commander Cherenkov,” Lt. Faltyne said, prompting disapproving looks from Lieutenants Dax and Lahn. Faltyne looked squarely at both women before he continued, “It’s better to nip a problem in the bud before it blossoms.”

“So, you’re advocating an illegal incursion into Alshain space?” Dax was incredulous. “What next, a pre-emptive strike against Alshain Proper itself?” The Trill looked to Doctor Bashir for support, but the swarthy medic looked distracted, as if his mind were on something a galaxy away.

“If need be,” Faltyne did not back down. “We were the victors of the Dominion War,” the Andorian added. “It’s time we started acting like it.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Colonel Jatarn Yaro finally spoke up. The stocky, bald headed Bajoran wasn’t known for holding his tongue, so his gravel-voiced question made everyone pause, even Ivan. Continuing, Jatarn said, “The Dominion War was won by a coalition, not the Federation alone. Without the Klingons, Romulans, Bajorans, and the Alshain, none of us might be here. The idea of entitlement I sense among some in the Federation can lead down a dangerous road.” He intoned.

Jatarn was a competent commander, but he had made his criticisms about the Federation openly and often, even when he served under Admiral Covey. She had valued his honesty and the man’s different perspective on galactic politics. Aquiel found it a bit annoying and ungrateful. Sometimes she had to bite her tongue to keep from reminding the man of how much the Federation and Starfleet had done for Bajor.

“Colonel Jatarn is right,” Dr. Bashir’s cultured voice blunted the edge of Jatarn’s comments. “Unilateralism is not the right course to pursue. We just narrowly avoided a full scale war with the Alshain only several months ago. With all due respect Commander Cherenkov what Command is proposing is needlessly provocative.”

“Not if we do it correctly,” Cherenkov replied. “And that’s why the Defiant was chosen for this mission. With the cloaking device we should be able to slide in and out undetected.”

“Getting there might not be a problem,” Lt. Okala said. “But how can you be so certain all of the anomalies littering the Vilkatis Minor System won’t render the cloaking device inactive or make it ineffectual?”

“Good question,” Ivan looked at Aquiel and smiled. “Lt. Commander Uhnari, what do you think?”

She pursued her lips, theories running through her mind. “The system has so many anomalies; some are doubtless to have an adverse effect not only on the cloaking device, but shields, propulsion, and perhaps even other systems as well.”

“Where’s the Trellium-D when you need it?” Braener weakly joked. It sounded like something Jeff would’ve said. Aquiel couldn’t help but frown. She was having a hard enough time accepting the man as Commander Thorpe’s replacement, and now he was unknowingly channeling Jeff’s awkward humor.

Ignoring Braener, Uhnari continued, “Absent lining the Defiant with an antiquated compound, the metaphasic shielding and ablative armor the ship possesses should protect Defiant from many of the anomalies. We had far less protection on the Cuffe and we lived to tell the tale.”

“I can keep the weapons banks cycling on different frequencies to see which are most immune to the properties of the various anomalies we may encounter,” replied Lt. Opan Ry’malk, the Defiant’s new Tactical Officer.

“Also, I think if the cloaking device is used sparingly it will lessen the risk of it being damaged,” Lt. Nog added. “From what I’ve read of the Vilkatis Minor system, the myriad radiation emanating from that sector of space provides almost a natural cloak.”

“That is correct,” Ivan nodded approvingly at the young Ferengi. “If we do this right, we’ll be back on DS9 before you know it.”

“We?” Braener asked.

“Yes sir,” Cherenkov said tightly. “I will be accompanying you, as mission specialist.”

Braener grumbled. “Is that so?” Cherenkov slid the captain the padd that had been resting on the table in front of him.

“Here are my orders sir, signed by Vice Admiral Shron.” The captain glanced over them, a frown shadowing his face.

When he looked up, the frown had morphed into a neutral expression. But his eyes told the real story of how Braener felt. “Welcome aboard,” he said dryly.

*******

Chief Medical Officer’s Cabin
Deep Space Nine


“Are the Alshain really testing subspace weapons in the Vilkatis Minor system?” Dr. Julian Bashir pointedly asked his handler.

Minister Tenva Otos glared at the screen, his nose ridges crinkling. “I don’t care for your tone Agent Bashir.”

“I prefer Doctor,” the medic replied.

“Still in denial about working for us now?” Tenva smirked. “Come on Agent Bashir, it hasn’t been so bad now has it? You’ve done great work in service to the Federation, and you’ve been rewarded. Wasn’t it I that gave you the information that led you to Elim Garak on Rokat Colony?”

“Yes,” Bashir hated to admit it.

“So, you know that he’s alive, even if not particularly well,” Tenva said. Julian’s heart thumped.

“Has something else happened to Garak?”

“He’s breathing and still free from the Cardassian or Federation authorities so he’s as well as can be reasonably expected. Worry about him on your own time,” the Bajoran bureaucrat replied. “So, what exactly was the purpose for this unscheduled call again?” Dr. Bashir bit his tongue and repeated the edited version of the briefing in the ward room.

By the end of it, Tenva looked even more bored. “We aren’t aware of any subspace weapons testing being conducted by the Alshain. We are aware of their desire to take as much of the weapons and technology the Son’a leave behind as their Imperium continues contracting. Fortunately for us the Son’a have been pretty good scorched earth practitioners, leaving very little in their wake.”

“So, you believe this much ado about nothing?” Bashir asked.

“I didn’t say that,” Tenva replied. “That’s why we would like you to report on anything you find there.”

“That’s it?” The medic asked, an incredulous expression on his face. “No other secret missions within missions?”

“No,” Tenva’s lips drew into a tight line. “Report back to me when you return.”

“The counter groups must have you and the Directorate pretty rattled,” Julian grinned. “You don’t seem like your old haughty self.” Tenva deactivated the secure link without responding.

Julian sat back, pleased with himself that he had been able to strike a nerve with Tenva. The typically smug Section 31 operative usually had the upper hand in their dealings, but not this time. Not only did he not appear knowledgeable of potential weapons testing, he also seemed not to care. Bashir only knew the barest information about the secret war going on between Section 31 and a coterie of groups actively opposing it. He longed to do more to assist those groups, but many had agendas as murky as 31’s, plus Bashir was really leery of incurring the ire of the Directorate with Garak’s life and innocence still in the balance. Not to mention what a vengeful 31 might do to Ezri, his parents, or his other friends.

A few months ago, Ezri’s mother Yanas, a periphery figure in one of the section’s labyrinthine schemes, had been seriously injured. The doctor wanted to do everything in his power to shield both her and Ezri from such pain again.

Bashir sighed. He was in this for the duration. The door chime roused him from his sad reverie. He smiled wearily when Ezri walked through the door. There had been a strain in their relationship for several months now, and partly for her safety, Julian had allowed the rift to grow.

He knew he couldn’t be the best person for her anymore, too much had changed. He had sold his soul to save Garak. He believed Ezri would understand, but he also knew she would want to get involved, and Bashir couldn’t bear to lose her. Even though he knew he had to end their relationship, in effect losing her anyway. But as long as she was still alive he could deal with the pain of their separation, or so he hoped.

He hugged Ezri, prompting the woman to pull away from him, a curious expression on her face. “Is everything okay Julian?”

“Ezri,” he forced himself to say the words, “We need to talk.”
*******

 

[DarKush]

Re: Part One: The Great Unknown

*******

Deep Space Nine
Habitat Ring


“This information better be accurate,” the Alshain snarled, his sharpened teeth flashing.

“It is,” the informant hid their irritation behind an unctuous grin. Doing business with the Alshain was such tedious work. “I assure you that my listening devices are top of the line. I’ve never failed you before have I?”

“It only takes one time,” the Alshain replied, “and it will be your last time. Make sure that this is not it.”

The informant gulped, prompting the Alshain to grin. “I’m glad you understand. Your account has been credited.” He severed the link, leaving the informant in darkness, but also leaving them much richer.

********

SFS Yantai
Main Bridge


“You are right to have doubts Sut,” Nauarch D’Anzan remarked, stroking his thick, russet furred chin. “The Unguis are deplorable sneaks after all.”

Sutahr Sut Q’Shayl nodded in agreement. He curtly bowed before the admiral on the main viewer. “And that is why I contacted you sir,” the Alshain captain replied. “Is this some futile snia hunt or legitimate?”

“It would seem unlikely that the Federation would be so monumentally stupid as to send a warship into Alshain space without the Chairman’s approval, however the humans are hard to fathom at times. So it is a definite possibility. And the Unguis’s source appears to have provided him useful information in the past.”

“Yes sir, I’ve considered all of that,” Q’Shayl replied. “It’s just that I’m surprised that I have been chosen for this mission.” D’Anzan’s eyebrow arched, and his lips quivered, but he waited for Sut to continue. “You know that my speaking out against the Starforce’s campaign against the Tarlac and Ellora was not viewed favorably.”

“I know,” D’Anzan remarked. “But you’ve paid the price for that. The period of ostracism is over. This is your chance to return to the fold. Seize it.”

“I will,” Q’Shayl promised, punctuating his declaration with a lowered, more formal bow.

******

IRW Allegiance
Commander’s Stateroom
Somewhere in the Romulan Outmarches


“What do you think of this?” Commander Nevek asked, turning away from the patiently waiting general.

Subcommander Rusina shivered, remembering her harrowing experience in Vilkatis Minor two years ago. It was something that she would never forget, staring into the open, infernal gullet of the universe itself. “If Starfleet actually wants to send a starship back into that hell hole, then I pity the crew.”

“The general would like your opinion before she devises a response,” Nevek didn’t attempt to sheathe his jealousy. “So, what do you propose?”

Looking at the monitor instead of the fuming commander, Rusina replied, “General I suggest we do nothing.”

One of the woman’s gray eyebrows arched, and her expression was skeptical,
“‘Nothing?’” Rusina repeated her advice, though with less assurance. Nevek softly chuckled at her misstep.

“Did I say something amusing Commander?” The general turned her intense gaze on Nevek. He shot forward in his seat as if he had touched a livewire.

“No, no General,” he stuttered, prompting a wolfish grin from the older woman. Rusina smirked herself. “My apologies if you felt I was being disrespectful.” The general ignored the apology and turned away from the chastened Nevek.

“Subcommander Rusina, I concur with your assessment,” the general replied, her expression softening. “If Starfleet wants to sacrifice another ship then we should by all means allow them; same with the Alshain. I think the Exarchate might become more of a concern in the future, unless they are taught their place early on. If the Federation takes on that role, while depleting more of their resources in the process, then all the better for the Empire wouldn’t you say?”

Rusina grinned and nodded in agreement, though there was a tiny part of her that felt a twinge of guilt. One of the Starfleeters had given her their seat on one of the few escape pods that had been ejected from the Tuscarora. The man’s face was branded into her brain. She dreamed of him often, and she knew his shade would not be pleased.

********

 

[Dnoth]

Re: Part One: The Great Unknown

Aww, man. I got on a roll reading this and it stopped.

Needless to say, I'm liking this. Aquiel sure has gotten around: LaForge...Cherenkov...Thorpe. She's like the female Will Riker.

It was interesting seeing how the Ageis crew has each done their own thing, and are now coming back together.

And I can't help but wonder if the Romulans are going to help or hinder in this story. You can never tell about those Romulans.

I'm looking forward to more!

 

[DarKush]

Re: Part One: The Great Unknown

Be careful what you wish for Dnoth

Regarding Aquiel, I must defend her honor. In my stories she's only been intimate with Geordi and Ivan, and those relationships were years apart. Her potential relationship with Thorpe never got off the ground.

 

[DarKush]

Re: Part One: The Great Unknown

********


USS Defiant
Sickbay
En Route to Vilkatis Minor System
Beta Quadrant


Dr. Bashir was checking the calibration on the last biobed for the fourth time when Lt. Okala Lahn poked her head through the opened portal. “May I come in?”

“Oh, of course,” Bashir said after a few moments confusion. His mind had been completely elsewhere, back on DS9, with Ezri. His imagination was conjuring all kinds of torturous images of the beautiful Trill, her eyes still red-rimmed and filled with tears from their last conversation. “Is there something wrong?” Julian said after another delay.

On Ezri’s recommendation, he had briefly prescribed Okala some anti-depressants in the dark days after Lt. Easun’s death. But it was a credit to the Science Officer’s character that she had refused them, determined to let the grief process occur unimpeded by medicine.

“No,” Okala walked in. “No,” she said again, her steps slowing until she rooted herself at the foot of the biobed. “It’s just…well…I don’t know how to say this sir….”

“Is this a personal or professional matter?” Bashir asked, his concern growing.

“Personal sir, in a way,” she haltingly replied.

“What do you mean by that?” Julian asked.

“Well it’s not personal for me per se,” the Bajoran dawdled.

“Whatever the problem is, there is no way I can help you or whomever unless you tell me,” Bashir pushed, feeling more than a little bad about doing so, but his impatience had gotten the best of him.

“Ezri…Lieutenant Dax…and I are friends,” the woman’s voice caught in her throat.

“She told you,” Bashir said, a statement, not a question.

“Yes sir,” Okala replied.

“I think this issue is beyond the formal rank stage,” Julian replied. “You can speak freely to me Lahn.”

The woman exhaled. “Okay, sir…err…Doctor Bashir.”

“Julian.”

“All right Julian,” she replied. He gestured towards his office. She followed him, and took the seat he proffered.

Once seated behind his desk Bashir began, “I hope you’re not here to tell me the nom de guerre ‘Adarak Assassin’ doesn’t pertain solely to your spring ball and basketball prowess,” he said, trying to lighten the mood with a joke, albeit a poor one.

“No, no, of course not,” Okala nervously protested.

“It’s all right Lahn,” Julian replied, “I was just joking.”

“Oh. Okay,” the woman visibly relaxed. Bashir allowed Okala to compose herself. “Julian, this is none of my business….”

Bashir held back the snappy retort dancing on the tip of his tongue, but he kept silent. He nodded for the young Bajoran to continue.

“Ezri helped me through a very difficult time,” Okala said slowly, her brown eyes crinkling a little at the edges. “We became friends. She means a lot to me, and I know how much you mean to her, that you still mean to her. After….”

“After I ended our relationship?” Bashir finished the hesitant woman’s thought.

“She still doesn’t understand why,” Okala confided. “I don’t want you to think that she put me up to this. She didn’t. She would rather suffer in silence, but I wonder why she should suffer at all, especially when you still carry a torch for her.”

“You were right, this is none of your business,” Julian said. “I would prefer if you allow me and Ezri some privacy during the transition period.”

Okala’s face darkened. “Ezri’s my friend and when she’s hurting I’m not going to abandon her. I learned my lesson the last time….” She grew quiet, thoughts of Easun returning to seize her tongue, mind, and heart. Bashir noticed a change in the Bajoran’s countenance, and instantly grew more sympathetic.

“Okala this isn’t your concern,” he said as gently as possible. “This is something for Ezri and me to work out, myself really,” the doctor admitted. Okala perked up at the small confession.

“Doctor Bashir I know you don’t know me as well as Ezri does, and my friendship with her might make you suspicious of my motives,” the woman paused, trying to gauge Julian’s reaction. He maintained a neutral, open expression on his face even though he knew what the Bajoran was going to say next. “If you ever need to talk…”

Julian held up a hand. “Thank you, thank you really, but I’m fine.” He lied. He wished he could talk to someone, anyone about his almost half-year in Section 31. There had been many long nights in which he contemplated spilling his guts to Ezri or Miles O’Brien, or Jake, even Quark. But Bashir knew all too well that he might be signing that person’s death warrant and he would never allow that.

Once again, to her credit Okala didn’t believe him, but she was too polite to call him out on it. She nodded tersely, “I’m sorry if I took up too much of your time,” she said.

“No, I’m here for the crew,” Bashir said, wincing inwardly as he recalled his conversation with Minister Tenva. He was here to serve his new masters again, and that fact hurt him almost as badly as the hole in his heart over Ezri. But he hid all of his pain and doubt behind a sunny smile. Standing up, he escorted Lt. Okala out of sickbay. Once she was gone, he went back to his office, shut the door, and let the tears flow again.

******

USS Defiant
Chief Engineer’s Office


“Ivan,” Lt. Commander Aquiel Uhnari gasped, as she slid out of the man’s grasp. “Not on the job.” Commander Cherenkov, using the stealth skills he had honed as a Starfleet Marine and a member of Starfleet Special Missions, had snuck up on her, wrapping his arms around the Haliian’s slender waist while she had been reading the wall-mounted display screen in her office, tracking the progress of the level-three diagnostic she had ordered.

Aquiel wanted to ensure that the Defiant was running shipshape, to negate poor performance in the event of any surprises they might encounter once they reached Alshain space. She wished she could similarly order her heart to do the same.

“That never stopped us before,” he grinned.

“Things are different now,” Uhnari said, a grim expression on her face.

“How different?” Ivan said, not really wanting to hear the answer.

“Why haven’t you called, or never returned my calls?” She asked.

“It’s…complicated,” Ivan replied, turned away from her to study a bucolic portrait he assumed was from Halii.

“After all this time, you have to give me a better explanation than that,” Aquiel demanded.

“No, no I don’t,” Ivan turned back toward her. “I serve at the President’s leisure, doing my best to tamp out brushfires before they conflagrate,” the Russian offered. He slowly reached out and ran his fingertips down the curve of Aquiel’s face. Stopping at her chin, he gripped it gently. “I’ve missed you.” He leaned close to the woman, but she turned away from him. His lips grazed her cheek.

“Ivan you were never so…brazen before. What’s going on with you?” She asked.

“I’m not so concerned with appearances now I suppose,” he admitted. “I may have a commander’s rank, but I fly solo now. I’m not responsible for a ship of hundreds or thousands, or even a mission team, so I don’t have to maintain the illusion anymore.”

Aquiel turned back towards him, angling her head in a curious gesture. “What do you mean by that?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Cherenkov said quietly, “but if you’ve got the time, I would like to tell you. Maybe then you’ll understand me better.”

“Okay,” Aquiel said slowly, intrigued and a little unsettled by Ivan’s openness. Perhaps he really was serious about renewing their relationship this time after all. But was she? Maybe what he told her would allow her to make that decision. “Ivan, I’m all ears.”
********

USS Defiant
Commanding Officer’s Quarters


Captain Keith Braener remained impressed by the ship’s holoprojection system. Only a handful of starship’s had been outfitted with the new technology during the war, and with the massive reallocation of resources to the myriad problems afflicting the entire Federation it was doubtful that the technology would be added to other starships, even the ones near completion in the Fleet Yards.

The war and its aftermath had created a haphazard flow of technological development across all of Starfleet, with some ships possessing new technologies while others continued with decades-old systems. It would probably take decades to get them up to speed, particularly with President Satie’s piecemeal approach.

“I don’t need to be a mind reader to know that something’s on your mind,” Nelita said. She looked so lifelike as she stood before him, dressed in coveralls, smudges of dirt on her nose and cheeks.

“Planting the azaleas already?” He asked.

“Already? I’m behind enough as it is,” the Betazoid replied. “So, what’s on your mind?”

Leaving out the classified information, Keith told her about what had transpired in the ward room and his misgivings about it. When he was finished, Nelita’s lips had drawn into a tight, almost nonexistent line. “I just hope Starfleet knows what it’s doing,” she said. “It sounds like they are biting off more than they can chew at the moment.”

“My feelings exactly,” Braener agreed, his scowl switching to a grin. “Perhaps that’s why we get along so well.”

“So, what are you going to do to prevent things from going from bad to worse?” Nelita asked, not willing to smile just yet. Braener could see the worry in the woman’s eyes. He wanted to tell her not to fret, but the captain knew he would be lying. And lying was something a human couldn’t do well against a Betazoid. Unless….

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure Defiant gets home in one piece. This mission should be a quick one, in and out.” Keith realized that the Betazoid’s telepathic powers had limits, and he was far away from Betazed.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Nelita said. “I don’t need my abilities to read the expression on your face. Just take of yourself out there, okay?”

“I will,” Keith promised, wishing he felt as confident as he sounded.
*******

 

[DarKush]

Re: Part One: The Great Unknown

*******

USS Cuffe
Vilkatis Minor System
The Past…


Lt. Aquiel Uhnari gulped with trepidation as she gazed at the main viewer. Sitting aft of the command well, at the main bridge’s auxiliary engineering station, the Haliian couldn’t pull herself from the deadly hypnotic distortion snaking towards them. It lit up the dead space around them, a crackling strand of destructive energy. The string cut a wide swath through the space before them. Beyond it was a life pod with a Starfleet impulse signature, or so the sensors told them.

“If that microfilament hits us sir, it will damage ship’s systems beyond repair,” Science Officer Gralf reported, eliciting a snort from Operations Officer Seb N’Saba.

“Once again Mr. Gralf states the obvious,” the testy Alshain rasped. Gralf scowled at the man, and opened his mouth to speak. But Captain Glover silenced the Xindi-Arboreal.

“Both of you keep your minds on your jobs,” he admonished. Glover leaned so far forward in his command chair that Aquiel could’ve knocked him out him of it if she blew hard in his direction. He was riveted to the scene playing out before him. The microfilament strand was coiling and writhing as it if were alive, its movements so unpredictable, its size so vast that the best true course was to retreat and find an alternate route to the life pod. But Glover wasn’t the retreating type.

Beside him sat his equally engrossed XO. Lt. Commander Ivan Cherenkov, with surprising steadiness said, “Helm, plot a course around that thing as best you can.”

“That’s easier said than done sir,” Ensign Juanita Rojas replied, with marked exasperation. “It’s almost like this thing is toying with us. It seems to move where I move.”

“Then how about we do something to alter that,” Captain Glover leaned back, rubbing his stubble chin. The loss of Pedro Rojas, the man Aquiel had replaced as Chief Engineer, had affected everyone on the crew, including her. Pedro had been such a spark, brimming with life and good cheer. He had given Aquiel a chance even though most would’ve burned her service jacket instead of reading it. And he had been as good an engineering mentor to her as Geordi had been.

But as much as she torn up about his death, Glover and of course Juanita, his sister, seemed at times to have become unhinged. Counselor Ellan and Dr. Cole had confirmed both were fit for duty, but Aquiel still had her doubts, especially about Juanita.

Since Pedro’s death, the usually affable young woman had been extremely ill-tempered. And it didn’t help that Aquiel got the feeling that Juanita somehow blamed her for Pedro’s death, or perhaps for surviving. The Haliian really didn’t want to confront the woman to find out. She just hoped that Juanita’s anger would subside eventually along with her grief.

“Mr. Meldin, load one of our quantums,” Glover said slowly, his eyes never leaving the screen.

“Excuse me?” The Benzite Tactical Officer said.

“Load one quantum torpedo,” Glover said again, his voice strangely neutral.

“But sir,” the stuffy Meldin proceeded cautiously, “we have no way of knowing what type of reaction might occur if we send a quantum torpedo into that microfilament.”

“There’s one sure way of finding out,” Glover said. “Arm the torpedo.” The familiar hardness was back in the captain’s voice.

“Captain, the explosive yield of the torpedo might create an adverse subspace reaction that could destroy us, along with several parsecs of surrounding space, including the life pod,” Lt. N’Saba said, beating Gralf to the punch. The Arboreal grunted, folding his arms over his round midsection.

“Or a quantum torpedo with a low yield might have enough force to shift that microfilament out of our way,” Glover countered, “Long enough for us to retrieve the life pod and venture further into the system.”

“The captain’s right,” Cherenkov said, his support no surprise for Aquiel. One of Ivan’s most pleasant traits was his loyalty. “And the more we delay, the more the strand closes the gap, and less likely we’ll be able to retrieve the pod.”

“So far our scans have not shown any life-signs on the pod,” Gralf said. “We might be risking our lives and the lives of any other survivors for an empty pod.”

Glover nodded, conceding that. “Good point,” he said. “But we’re still going forward on this.”

“Sir, what if things don’t go as you intend,” N’Saba said. “Do you think we’ll be able to outrun an explosion or subspace tear with the engines in their current state.” The warp engines were still offline, the result of an earlier run in with a theta radiation cluster.

“Pedro had faith in Lt. Uhnari, and I do as well,” was Glover’s only reply. Aquiel began to receive the less than surreptitious looks from the crew, and one particularly nasty glare from Juanita. The captain, however, kept his focus on the screen. “Mr. Meldin,” he said calmly, “launch the torpedo.”
*******


Elloran Cruiser Kemado
The Recent Past…


The jagged edges of the subspace disturbance resembled the teeth of some gigantic beast. Zene was both fascinated and repelled, his Starfleet training fostering a powerful curiosity about the rippling maw before them. It was spreading like a wicked grin.

His compatriots weren’t so scientifically inclined. “Zene, turn us the hells around!” Ceven snapped. Both Ena and Gref agreed, but Zene remained transfixed. “There is something not right about this,” he said. “That subspace tear shouldn’t be expanding at such a rate.”

“And you’re a scientist now huh?” Ceven rasped.

“Actually I was in the Sciences Division for a short time while I was in Starfleet,” Zene said calmly, his attention still riveted to the screen.

“Well I bet you’ve never seen anything like that,” Ceven scoffed.

“You’re right,” Zene conceded.

“Well, if you want to live to tell someone other than us about it, I suggest we return to the rim of this system and wait out the Alshain.” Ceven said.

Zene ignored his advice. “Ena, what are the sensors picking up?” Ceven huffed, and Ena fidgeted. A few minutes later she said:

“I’m reading a massive spikes of quantum and temporal energy,” she looked up, confusion evident on her face. “This anomaly is extradimensional in nature.”

“Interesting,” Zene said. “Sensors picking up anything else?”

Ena looked down at her terminal. “No-wait…,” this time her eyes were aglow with fear. Zene looked at her and then back at the screen. A greenish tongue of pure energy lashed from the maw, striking the Kemado. The ship spun as inertial dampeners and structural integrity failed simultaneously. Zene quickly grabbed hold of the console when artificial gravity went next.

“We can’t take another hit like that,” he said, looking around. He was heartened to see Ena clutching on to the console. Ceven was hanging from bulkhead. Unfortunately, Gref was floating limply through the gravity free environment. Zene worked frantically to restore artificial gravity and everything else to the dead console.

“Don’t waste your time kid,” Ceven said.

“Float over here and help us damnit!” Zene yelled. “Instead of complaining.”

“I’m not complaining,” Ceven sounded hurt by the accusation. “I’m just saying it’s no use is all. Can’t you feel it?”

“Feel what?” Ena asked, her voice coarse with fear. Zene was about to agree to her, but then he paused. He did hear the strain on the ship’s hull, reverberating through the bulkheads and deck. Next he felt the shifting of the ship around him.

“They’ve latched some type of tractor beam on us,” Zene said, tamping down his own growing fears as best he could. “We’re being pulled into the disturbance.”
*******

 

[DarKush]

Part Two: Dark Places of the Heart

*******

PART TWO:
DARK PLACES OF THE HEART


USS Defiant
Main Bridge
Now…


“Prepare to cloak,” Captain Braener ordered.

“Aye sir,” Lt. Commander Uhnari’s voice issued from the com system. “Initiating cloaking device now.” There was a slight dimming of the bridge’s lighting as the cloak came online. Braener didn’t think he would ever get used to the idea of a Federation starship with a cloaking device. It just felt sneaky somehow, beneath Starfleet. Even though he had to admit that Captain Sisko, Colonel Kira, and Admiral Covey had been quite prudent in their use of the cloak. He hoped he would be able to do the same.

“We will be entering Alshain space in less than an hour,” Lt. Hetis said, from the Helm. “And we’ll reach Vilkatis Minor in ten hours,” the Boslic added, anticipating Braener’s next question. He grinned.

“Good job Lieutenant,” he replied. She glanced back at him, dipping her head in acknowledgement. A lock of purple hair flew over one of her eyes. She blew at it before turning back around.

So far, so good, Braener thought. He hoped the rest of the journey was as uneventful.
*******

USS Defiant
Chief Engineer’s Office


“Shouldn’t you be on the bridge?” Aquiel playfully asked Ivan. Instead of smiling the man tensed up. “What’s wrong?”

“I think you’re more than aware that Captain Braener holds little regard for me,” Cherenkov said. “He’s probably relieved I’m not on the bridge with him right now. Besides, he doesn’t need me to run the ship for him…or I hope not.” He paused, raising a questioning eyebrow. It took Uhnari a few seconds to realize what Ivan was getting at.

“No, Braener is more than competent,” Aquiel admittedly, somewhat glumly. She had sort of wished Braener was incompetent or a jerk, so it could justify her coolness towards him. But the truth of the matter was she didn’t like him because he wasn’t Jeff. She smiled at the realization, remembering the quiet hostility her elevation to Chief Engineer had engendered on the Cuffe after she took over for the beloved Pedro Rojas.

“Why are you smiling?” Cherenkov asked.

“Nothing, it’s nothing really,” Uhnari replied, her smile growing wider. “I get it now.”

“Get what?”

“Nothing,” she repeated. She was surprised when Ivan shrugged and turned his attention to the wall display now showing a schematic of the power intake of the cloaking device. In the past Ivan would’ve pushed her until she coughed up an answer. He really had appeared to have been honest when he declared he had changed.

But she already knew that. Ivan’s revelations about his family and their ties to the Orion Syndicate had showed her he was more willing to open up and introduce her to who he really was, and not the martinet image he had crafted over the years. Now she felt obliged to do the same.

“You know Ivan; you’re not the only person whose life has been blighted by the Syndicate.”

His head shot around, his eyes widening in shock. “You too?” She nodded, her throat closing up momentarily. “I really don’t want to pry, but I would like to hear about it.” The Russian said more gently.

“Okay,” she said quietly, after a few moments of pondering. Perhaps it was time to truly let Ivan back into her heart after all. “Follow me.”

*******

USS Defiant
Chief Engineer’s Quarters


Lt. Commander Aquiel Uhnari took the small case containing her Canar from the top of her closet. She walked over to the coffee table and gently placed the case on it. She kneeled down on one side of the table and gestured for Ivan to do so across from her. Though he had a skeptical look on his face, the Russian slid off the sofa and got down on his knees.

Aquiel pulled the Canar from the case. She held the small crystal shard reverently in her hands. “This is the Canar,” she explained. “It amplifies a Haliian’s telepathic abilities.” The translucent crystal sparked with colors in response.

“All right,” Cherenkov said, though it was evident that he didn’t understand the significance of the moment.

“Only Oumriel share the Canar,” Uhnari smiled.

“ ‘Oumriel?’”

“It means ‘special friend’,” Aquiel elaborated. She reached out a hand and Ivan grabbed it. She guided his hand to the Canar. The colors swirling within the crystal intensified. Ivan tried to pull away, but Aquiel held onto his hand. “Just relax, and open your mind.”

“I’m not so sure about this,” Ivan said.

“Do you trust me?” She asked.

“I wouldn’t have told you about my past if I didn’t,” Cherenkov replied.

“Then trust that I will never hurt you,” Aquiel stated. “Haliians are a telepathic species, though our abilities are limited to person-to-person contact. I-I just want to share myself with you…in a way I never quite felt comfortable before.”

“So, the real issue isn’t if I trust you,” Ivan figured out. “It’s that you now trust me?” She nodded.

“All right,” he said. “Please proceed.” He held out his other hand. Aquiel wrapped them both around the Canar. It glowed with their combined fire. Uhnari closed her eyes and opened her mind…

 

[DarKush]

Re: Part Two: Dark Places of the Heart

…Almost everything that mattered to her died on the hottest day she ever experienced.

Halii’s sun reigned over the lush overgrowth provided by the planet’s large, semi sentient Muskan seed stalks, sizzling on her skin whenever the rays poked through the tree stalk’s leaves.

Her village was in the middle of the marshlands, and she had always loved the abundant life swinging and buzzing around her, or crawling and slithering beneath her feet. Aquiel had even been mesmerized by the marsh vipers and caiman lurking along the bog banks, and her Father had often warned her to keep a safe distance, lest she be pulled below the depths. Sometimes, Aqui listened, and the other times she kept silent about.

Recently her village had been undergoing an almost catastrophic draught for the last seven cycles, parching both the land and its people, unraveling the holistic tie her people held with nature, as the stalks and the animals hoarded their dwindling energies for survival.

Everything had felt so empty, lonely to Aquiel as she briskly walked back home, her younger sister Shianna clasped to her arm, her little fingers sticky against her scorched skin. In her other hand she carried a bulging satchel of Muskan seeds.

Her mother had sent her out to barter with the Muskan trees, for a few seeds to make the sweet punch and deserts she and her sister loved so much in exchange for a smatter of their water reserves.

Mother had known full well that their Father would not approve and she had admonished Aqui to hurry home to avoid both the wrath of the suns and their father. Jorj Uhnari would not be pleased that his wife wasted valuable water reserves, no matter if it made his children happy or not.

Even at the tender age of nine, she understood the importance, for all their sakes, of Father returning home to a nice dinner of breads and fruits, with a pitcher of Muskan seed punch dominating the spread. He would complain of the expense, and perhaps bellow at their mother about her extravagance.

Father had been under a great strain lately, Mother had told her, so much so that he wasn’t his usual jovial or patient self. When Aqui had asked her mother why, the gracious woman had responded with a long, hard to follow tale: about tri-nucleic fungi, and her father’s attempts to form a union among the other workers on the bog.

About the only part that Aqi understood involved the fungi, the green, squishy fields of plants that neatly surrounded their home, and that each of them, even her younger sister Shianna, worked in from First Light to Last.

At the end of every harvest Father would take the fungi and go into the capital. These had always been fun times because they coincided with the Batarael celebrations. After Father sold the fungi he would take them out to the Main Square to join with thousands of other Haliians to sing the Horath and celebrate the dawning of another turn…
*****


…They left the protective embrace of the seed stalks. Their small house was nestled beneath a stand of Jjinja trees. Aqui accepted the idea of having to trudge uphill with the sun flogging her back, preparing herself for the ordeal when her life changed forever.

“Aquiel!” The voice screamed through her mind.

“Mother,” she called, looking around her. The softly swaying trees, which usually imbued her with a sense of much needed serenity, now appeared threatening. Uhnari realized that the brownish decay creeping along their roots, rotting their leaves for the first time. She saw no one. Her mother wasn’t there.

“Where’s Mother?” Shianna asked, yanking free of her older sister. “Mother?” She too also looked around, mimicking Aquiel’s frantic gestures.

“Aquiel! Run!”

It took her seconds to realize that the voice was in her mind. Mother was using the psychic link they all shared, stronger between the Uhnari women who frequently conversed through Mother’s Canar. Father often had scoffed at them, dismissing the ritual, along with much of Haliian spirituality as antiquated nonsense.

“Run!”

Aquiel froze. Run? Run where? From whom? She looked down at Shianna. The six-year-old’s eyes had rivaled the size of their planet’s overlarge sun. But she wasn’t meeting Aquiel’s gaze, she wasn’t trembling in confusion, and fear, waiting for Aquiel to explain everything to her. Her small body was taut, her eyes locked to a spot behind Aquiel.

“Shianna?” She asked even as she turned around to follow her terrified sister’s gaze.

A small craft screamed through the copse leading to their home, several large, evil looking aliens filling its open cockpit. Before Aquiel could do anything, the skip stopped, its turbines whining as it lowered itself in front of them, the blast of heat from the engine, almost knocking both sisters to the ground.

The largest of the aliens, a thick ridge in the middle of his jutting brow, hopped from the open car, a large, blood soaked machete in his hands. Whose blood was that? Aquiel wondered, rooted to the ground by fear, her muscles a quivering mass.

The alien regarded them for several seconds, swinging the serrated blade in the air above them, droplets falling on her. Aquiel flinched as each drop struck her, more powerful than all of her father’s blows.

“What do you want me to do with these two?”

“Nothing,” replied a smaller, hairless alien, with very big ears. “There’s no need to wipe out the entire bloodline is there? I think we made our point. We have received our payment…in blood, if not latinum. And I am sure that you two will keep our presence here a secret. Right?” He nodded softly, his voice strangely avuncular.

Aquiel nodded, the fear bounding her tongue, and controlling her neck muscles. The large eared man clapped, smiling, rows of dagger-like teeth gleaming in the smoldering sunlight. “Good.” He cooed. “Junza, let’s leave.”

The larger alien glared at them once more before clambering back into the craft. Aquiel’s body didn’t reanimate until minutes after the air car had careened through the trees, stripping leaves and bark in its wake, her mind too seized with fear to accept the knowing pain of the Muskan stalks. It was then that Aquiel noticed the acrid smell of smoke.

“Aqui, something has happened to Mother and Father.” Shianna’s voice was very small, making the simple truth of her words even more powerful. Aquiel leaned down, putting a determined cast on her face that would brook no debate. Clutching the tiny girl roughly by her shoulders, she said:

“Shianna I want you to go to the dipping pond. Hide in one of the reflecting caves, and don’t come out until I call out for you. Okay?”

The usually feisty six-year-old bit back the protestation twisting her lips. She nodded meekly. Aquiel patted her on the bottom. “Go.” Shianna turned and ran through the forest.

Finding a tree limb ripped off during the aliens’ escape, Aquiel hurriedly raced along the now singed path to their home, weaving between the trees. Her small frame crouched low to the ground as she used the flanking trees for cover. Each step felt even more heavy and leaden, but she forced her legs to move. Her eyes teared and her nose burned as the dolorous odor of smoke grew.

Reaching the clearing, her stomach dropped. The only home she had ever known, where she had found love and hatred, joy and fright, was on fire, being consumed by ravenous flames.

Forgetting her own safety, Aquiel threw the stick away, and dashed into the inferno. “Mother!” she wailed. “Father!” she screamed.

Trying to hold her breath, but succumbing to wracking coughs, she braved the searing, licking flames as she pounded on every door in the small house she could, looking for her mother. But they were all locked, some of the doorknobs blistering heat. All except one…

Learning her lesson, she used most of her remaining strength to kick open the door to the living quarters. It gave way with such ease that she lost her footing, stumbling into the room. A crouched figure kneeled in the center of the space, seemingly oblivious to the smoke and flames.

“Father, where’s Mother?” Aquiel yelled over the roaring blaze, approaching her father with practiced caution. She gingerly touched his shoulder. He turned slowly, his dark eyes blinking finally with recognition after several seconds. Aquiel forced herself not to recoil from the man’s ruined face.

“All gone, everything…tried to do right…tried…”

“Where’s Mother?” She asked again, more insistent. Her father coughed as the smoke got to him. A thick film of blood flew from his lips. Aquiel maintained her grip on his shoulder.

“Mother!” She screamed, fighting against another bout of coughing herself.

“Syndicate…” he mumbled. “Ketracel…” Looking up at her again, as if for the first time, his voice cracked. “Aqui…I’m so sorry.”

“What did you do? What did they do to her?”

“She’s gone. It’s my fault,” he admitted.

“Where?” She cried, smoke and heartbreak blinding her with tears.

“They killed her.” He said, his voice as torn as his face. “They said it was payment. For trying to disrupt their trade…for missing quota.”

“Quota?” She asked, dumbfounded.

“Ketracel...Ketracel-White.” Father mumbled.

“Ketracel-White?”

He grabbed her suddenly, his grip iron, the old fierceness boiling once again in his eyes. “The White. What do you know about Ketracel-White? What have you been doing?”

She tried to break free, but couldn’t. “Father, you’re hurting me!” She whelped.

Just as quickly his grip slackened, then his hands dropped from her, and he resumed his almost catatonic crouch.

“We’ve got to go,” Aquiel tugged at her father, the splintering and crackling of wooden supports reinforcing her statement.

“No.” She pulled on him, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Father, please!”

“All…all I wanted to do was the right thing. To work with dignity, to have some sort of foundation…to better support….” Her father lowered his head. “I’m so sorry Aquiel. So sorry for being a failure.”

“Please!”

“Get out now!” Within a blink, rough hands had grabbed her again, pushing with force, propelling her wiry frame into the hallway. Seconds later, a loud crack and rumble boomed through her eardrums, as the ceiling to the living area fell in, her father disappearing in a mound of flaming debris.

“Gods no!” She screamed, “No!” Crawling backwards on her hands, she scuttled out of the house, collapsing in a heap a safe distance from the building, watching much of her life burn away until the fire suppression units finally arrived…


*******

 

[DarKush]

Re: Part Two: Dark Places of the Heart

*******


SFS Yantai
Main Bridge
Vilkatis Minor System
Nine Hours Later….


“Keep the anti-proton net active,” Sutahr Sut Q’Shayl ordered. “The buoys we strung along this entrance will alert us to any cloaked vessels.”

“Is it not possible that the Federation has already found a counter to this method of detection?” His science officer asked. He scowled at the young female. “The Jem’Hadar was employing this tactic even before the war.”

“And if I recall it met with mixed results,” Q’Shayl replied. “We have the element of surprise on our side. They know nothing about our agent on DS9.”

“Anticipating that the Feds will enter our space unprepared is a recipe for defeat,” Syot Kilina F’Keir warned. “Too many of our brethren have suffered for similar lapses.”

“You misunderstand me,” Q’Shayl said. “I have no intention of confronting the Federation vessel.”

“I don’t understand sir,” F’Keir replied. “I thought our orders were to intercept and destroy the Federation starship.”

“No, destroying one starship won’t hurt Starfleet or the Federation, but exposing them as violating the ceasefire will.”

“I don’t follow sir,” the Weapons Officer Yab said. F’Keir growled at the male, but Q’Shayl smiled.

“It’s not your duty to understand Oyan, but merely to obey,” Q’Shayl gently chided. The man lowered his head, his large ears drooping in disappointment.

“The crew stands ready to follow your orders sir,” F’Keir reaffirmed. Q’Shayl nodded.

“Glory, promotion, redemption awaits us all,” Q’Shayl said with a stoic satisfaction, “provided courtesy of Starfleet.”
********


USS Defiant
Chief Engineer’s Quarters



“My God,” Ivan whispered, breaking his hold on the Canar. He stood up, sweeping around the table to wrap Aquiel in his arms. “I never knew.”

“No one did,” she said, quickly amending. “Except a few, some without my permission…” she paused, her thoughts lingering briefly on Geordi. While investigating her disappearance from Relay Station 47, the Enterprise engineer had went through many of her personal logs, learning more things about her than she wished he had. To his credit, Geordi had never judged her for her past. “But outside of Shianna, you are the only person I have willingly told.”

“I…I don’t know what to say.” She placed a finger to his lips.

“Don’t say anything. Just accept the trust I’ve given you. Don’t abuse it. Please.”

“You know I won’t.” Ivan desperately wanted to share his experiences with the Orion Syndicate and how it had cast a long shadow over his life, but he knew now was not the time. He didn’t want to intrude on the specialness, the sacredness of this moment. Plus he was afraid Aquiel might not understand, that she might make him a proxy for her anger and pain, and Cherenkov was more afraid of her turning away from him again than anything that might be awaiting them in the expanse.

“I know.” The whispered words echoed throughout the still room. The silence deepened between them until their combadges chirped simultaneously. They pulled apart before activating their links.

“I need you both to report to the bridge,” Braener said. “We’ve got a situation.”

*******

USS Defiant
Main Bridge

“It’s a trick,” Commander Cherenkov surmised. “Don’t answer the hail.” Captain Braener couldn’t help taking umbrage.

“We’re Starfleet officers Mr. Cherenkov,” he heatedly replied, “It’s our duty to answer distress calls.”

“Not when our orders to maintain secrecy supersede those standing orders,” Ivan rejoined. “Need I remind you again of the admiral’s orders?”

Braener shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “No, you don’t,” the man huffed. “But perhaps you’ll change your mind when you hear the audio.” He gestured to Lt. Ry’malk. The Saurian activated the recorded message.

“This is Sutahr Sut Q’Shayl of the Starforce ship Yantai…” the garbled message began. “My vessel is being pulled into the Vilkatis Minor System by some mysterious force. Request assistance immediately…repeat, request assistance immediately….”

“Play the second message,” Braener said, his voice almost echoing through the quiet bridge.

“This is Sutahr Q’Shayl,” the voice was more resigned now. “It is too late for us….Federation vessel do not attempt to traverse the anomalous expanse. You-you have no idea what awaits you.”

“They know we’re here,” Lt. Okala replied anxiously.

“No, they don’t,” Ivan said. “They’re just fishing that’s all. Throwing out bait to see if we’ll bite.”

“And what if they are telling the truth?” Braener said. “What if they are genuine?” Cherenkov looked at him askance, his haggard face a mask of incredulity.

“The Defiant is far more equipped than the Cuffe when it entered the expanse. And you can see that both I and Commander Uhnari lived to tell the tale,” the Russian said. “Alshain arrogance or incompetence might be the culprit of any mishap that ship is experiencing. Or more likely they are trying to smoke us out.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not going to take that chance,” the captain replied. “Perhaps more gestures of goodwill instead of spying will rebuild our relationship with the Exarchate.”

“Captain we have our orders,” Ivan pressed. Braener stood up and stepped out of his seat so that he could look Cherenkov in the eye.

“And I’m breaking them,” he declared.

“Those captain’s pips aren’t so new that they can’t be replaced,” Ivan warned. Some of the bridge crew, Uhnari included, gasped at the Russian’s brazenness. Braener was unfazed.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” he replied. “Lt. Hetis, triangulate the last position of that message and take us to those coordinates.”

“I must formally protest,” Ivan began.

“Fine, do so, and take all the time to compose a nice letter while you’re cooling your heels in your quarters,” Braener said. Ivan’s face turned crimson.

“You can’t do that!” He snapped. “I’m the mission commander.”

“I just did,” Braener said, unable to keep a nasty smile off his face. “I’m tired of your high handed attitude. Get off my bridge Mr. Cherenkov!”

********

 

[DarKush]

Re: Part Two: Dark Places of the Heart

********

USS Defiant
Main Corridor


Commander Ivan Cherenkov stomped down the hall, ignoring the curious looks of the crewmen he passed. He heard softly pounding footsteps behind him a few minutes later. He turned around. Lt. Commander Aquiel Uhnari stopped. She caught her breath before speaking, “Ivan…that was really uncalled for.”

“I know,” he agreed. “But that Braener is so insufferable. Is Starfleet really so lacking in talent that he was promoted? A man that can’t follow simple orders? A man that puts his self-righteous sense of morality above the security of the Federation?”

“Many people might’ve described Captain Kirk that way in the past, or Captain Picard that way now,” Uhnari replied.

“I’m not a fan of either,” Ivan riposted. “Orders have to be followed. When they aren’t, bad things happen.”

“Not when those orders are based on a lie,” Aquiel said. She drew close to him, and whispered in his ear. “There isn’t any weapon testing occurring is there?”

He stared at her for interminable seconds, his forehead wrinkling as he weighed his options. This was his moment, his true chance to redeem himself, and prove to the woman he now knew he loved that he trusted her. Ivan sighed.

“I’m such a hypocrite,” he chuckled. “After my tirade against Braener, I’m essentially about to do the same thing. We believe that the Alshain are attempting to acquire subspace weapons, but presently do not possess any. Or if our intelligence is wrong and they do have them, they aren’t testing them in Vilkatis Minor.”

“Have the alien’s returned?” Aquiel said. “I thought we shut off that beachhead?”

“That’s what we’re attempting to find out.” Ivan admitted.

“Perhaps we should just tell Braener and the others,” Uhnari suggested.

“No,” Ivan was adamant. “I’ve broken too many regulations already. Our after-action report was restricted only to the Starfleet C-in-C and the Federation President.”

“With you restricted to quarters, and Braener going into Vilkatis Minor half-cocked, it’s putting all of us in danger. I’ve served a long time now with a lot of these people,” Aquiel’s voice rose. “I won’t needlessly put them in danger!” Cherenkov winced, looking around the hallway to see if anyone else had heard. Thankfully the corridor was empty.

“You’ve asked me to trust you,” Ivan said. “Now I ask that you trust me,” he replied. “Now is not the time. Perhaps the Alshain were telling the truth, and the captain can rescue them. It would blow our cover but at least everyone will get home safely. And we’ll just have to investigate Vilkatis Minor through other means,” he offered. “But to reveal such classified information without proper cause might be considered treasonous.”

“You think I’m a traitor?” Uhnari asked, her voice stricken with hurt.

“Of course not!” Ivan said, reaching to hug the woman, but she stepped back. Cherenkov awkwardly placed his arms back at his sides. “Just give it some time.”

“Fine,” Aquiel mumbled. “But my vow of silence is over as soon as we encounter anything that might threaten this ship.” She turned away from him and headed back to the bridge.

“Fair enough,” Ivan said. But the Haliian didn’t turn around or acknowledge him. Cherenkov resumed his lonely trek.

********

 

[DarKush]

Re: Part Two: Dark Places of the Heart

********


USS Cuffe
Transporter Room One
Vilkatis Minor System
The Past…


“Are you insane?” Subcommander Rusina spat. “We barely survived the Breen attack, and now you want to venture into the fissure that has devoured the other ships and life pods?” Transporter Chief Balk began to speak, but Captain Glover silenced the Tellarite. He wanted to allow the life pod occupants a chance to express their honest opinions about his plan, whether they agreed with him or not the venting would do well for them.

“Captain Ra-Nesh sacrificed himself and much of his crew to save your life,” Lt. Suzanne Harper mumbled through her busted, blood caked lips. “We owe them.” The mahogany skinned, reddish haired officer then reluctantly allowed Dr. Cole to begin attending to her injuries again.

“We don’t ‘owe’ the captain or your compatriots anything,” Worra, the Alshain Liaison Officer replied, eliciting a withering glare from Lt. Harper. “However, I do think continuing the search for survivors is a prudent thing. The loss of the captain and his talented senior staff would be a severe blow to the war effort.”

Glover tapped his compin. “Proceed into the rupture,” he ordered.


*******

USS Cuffe
Main Engineering


“Captain Glover sent me down here to find out the status of the new metaphasic shield modifications,” Ensign Juanita Rojas said, with negative enthusiasm.

“Why couldn’t he just ask from the bridge,” Aquiel absently asked, looking up from the master display. As soon as she saw Rojas, she knew the answer. “This really isn’t about the status of the shields is it?”

“No,” Rojas grated.

“Let’s talk in my office,” Uhnari said, wincing at the pained expression that crossed Juanita’s face. Only a few weeks ago, ‘her’ office had been Pedro’s. The helm officer stalked off in the direction of Aquiel’s office. The Haliian composed herself before following her.

Once she closed the door, Aquiel offered Juanita a seat, but the fuming young woman chose to stand.

“I’m guessing the captain wants us to air out any differences before we take on the next phase of this mission,” Uhnari began.

“What problem sir?” A vein throbbed along the delicate curve of Rojas’s jaw.

“At ease ensign,” Uhnari said, gushing in exasperation, “and please let’s not play games. You have my permission to speak freely.”

Juanita merely looked at her. Aquiel sighed. If it was up to her to do the heavy lifting she guessed she would have to. “I’m just trying to do my job Juanita; I’m not trying to replace your brother. I could never do that.”

“You got that right,” she snapped. Aquiel held back the acidic comment dripping off her tongue. Histrionics weren’t needed right now.

“Captain Glover thinks I’m good enough for the job, and that should be enough for you.”

“Well, it isn’t,” Rojas said. “Everyone knows your record-or lack thereof, and how you used your relationship with Commander LaForge to ease your way past more qualified applicants to get on the engineering fast track.”

“How dare you!”

“No, how dare you!” Juanita spat. “Perhaps if Pedro had had more qualified help, maybe he would be here today, but all he had was you.” Before Aquiel knew what she was doing, she slapped Juanita. The helmsmen jumped at Aquiel, but pulled back the last minute. Instead of attacking, Juanita merely grinned.

“Truth hurts huh?” Without waiting to be dismissed, she left.

“I’m sorry,” Aquiel whispered to a closed door.

*******

 

[DarKush]

Re: Part Two: Dark Places of the Heart

*******


USS Defiant
Sickbay
Now…


Instead of going to his quarters, Commander Cherenkov made a detour to Sickbay. As expected, Dr. Bashir was less than enthused to see him. It was a response he always seemed to engender among the majority of people he met, Ivan thought, though he cared very little to analyze why.

“Commander Cherenkov is everything all right?” the doctor asked.

“Perhaps I should ask you that, or your handler,” Ivan replied, his face and voice hardening.

“Commander I don’t understand what you’re referring to,” Bashir asked. An untrained eye would’ve believed the confused look on the man’s face. But Ivan was an old hand at this.

“Let’s cut through the bunk Doctor,” Cherenkov said. “I know who you work for and for how long.”

Bashir’s expression changed instantly. His lithe body tensed, as if expecting an attack. “Are you one of them Commander?”

“No, I’m not part of the section,” Ivan said.

“I know that,” Bashir replied. “Are you one of the counters?” Ivan nodded. “So, commander, are you here to expose me?”

“I could care less about you selling your soul doctor,” Cherenkov said, “I just want you and your superiors to know that I don’t want any undue interference in my mission. Such interference could have unpleasant consequences.”

“Noted and logged,” Bashir said tightly. “I don’t respond kindly to threats Commander.”

“I don’t make threats,” Cherenkov cryptically replied before exiting Sickbay.

*******