Dark Territory: Maelstrom (WIP)

[DarKush]

I'm glad you guys are warming up to Juanita. I've always had trouble figuring her out and I saw this story as a great opportunity to expand on her character some.


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Exarch-Class Cruiser Vyras
Command Salon

Paladin Nadfar Durgo bodied the Exarch, knocking him to the floor as the ship shook with such force that cracks spread across the ceiling and the main viewer shattered, impaling several officers. “What was that?” Queen Symea said after a few seconds, her bodyguard gingerly helping the woman to her feet. She glanced at the viewer, but only saw wires, smoke, and blackness. She tried to ignore the bodies strewn at the feet of the ruined screen, but the smell of fresh blood and cooked flesh was damningly alluring.

Durgo tried to assist Jedalla, but the monarch pushed the man away. He rushed to his mate. “Are you well?” He asked.

The queen sniffed, “Of course.” She tapped the breastplate of her armor. “Almost nothing can pierce this.”

“The armor or your heart?” Jedalla quietly joked.

“Neither,” Symea deadpanned.

The Exarch shared a quiet chuckle with her before he whipped his head around, his mien becoming lethally serious. “Status report!” He thundered, “L’Dac, what just happened?” It took a few moments for the admiral to look up. He had been transfixed by the data scrolling across the screen inset into his chair. The skittish Topal nudged the man, and the diminutive Nauarch finally complied with her husband’s orders. Symea growled low in her throat at the affront.

“My apologies Highness,” L’Dac said quickly. “It appears that the Breen vessel…has been destroyed.”

“Destroyed?” Jedalla asked, confusion evident on his face.

“How?” Symea demanded.

“We…don’t know,” the Nauarch answered truthfully. The stillness in the salon was split with a sharp whine and three shafts of light appeared on the bridge.

“I think we are about to get our answer,” Topal said drolly. Durgo and his Paladin squadron encircled the royal couple. Symea had to peek through the massive bodies of the imperial guard to see what was going on. The elite soldiers angled their weapons at the three beams. She heard the rustling and the setting of arms across the bridge. Even her beloved had pulled his disruptor and a blade. She rested her hand on the hilt of her dagger. Symea preferred close-in kills, and she was certain she was about to get her wish.
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Exarch-Class Cruiser Vyras
Command Salon

Captain Terrence Glover held up his hands. “Yes, our move was brilliant but I think even an honor guard is a bit too much.”

“Not the time sir,” Pell said through gritted teeth, but Juanita chuckled. She didn’t think the last-minute beam out idea would work, but she was damn near giddy that it had. Unfortunately, staring into the snarling mugs of a bridge-full of Alshain warriors, didn’t give her much hope that she would be drawing breath much longer. Though she could faintly hear thudding, wailing, and disruptor blasts beyond the salon, Juanita was far more concerned about with what was going on inside it.

“Who are you human and what are you doing here?” A fat, red-furred lupine garishly dressed stepped forward, parting the phalanx of soldiers that had surrounded them. Before Glover answered, Juanita heard a weird noise that sounded like someone taking a deep whiff. Behind the phalanx, someone called out:

“Lt. Commander Pell?” Both Juanita and looked at their Bajoran counterpart. The auburn-haired woman shrugged.

“Alshain have a powerful sense of smell,” she quietly explained before speaking louder, “Exarch Jedalla, is that you?”

“Lower your weapons,” the disembodied voice thundered. The soldiers rapidly complied with the order. A large, muscular man, dressed in red armor pushed through the phalanx. His fur coat was thick, rich, and black as night. His eyes burned like charcoal. Pell lowered her head in a show of respect. Juanita caught on and followed suit. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Captain Glover was reluctant to do so, and gave the shortest and fastest head bow.

“Pell, what are you doing here? And who are your compatriots?” The Alshain ruler asked, his tone more curious than demanding.

“Sir, we were scheduled to rendezvous with the Vyras en route to Earth, but we accelerated our schedule after receiving Diadem’s distress call.”

“Yes I recall that now,” Jedalla stroked his chin.

“Exarch Jedalla, do you know what happened to the Diadem?” Captain Glover asked. The monarch bared his teeth at what Juanita figured was some sort of breach in protocol, but the captain was unfazed. Both men stared at each other for tense seconds and the phalanx of guards began inching their weapons back up. The hefty Alshain thankfully broke the impasse:

“During the ambush we were separated from the Diadem. I pray to the gods that it survived.”

“Topal, would it be possible to try to send them a communiqué?” Pell asked.

“No Commander Pell, we’ve lost communications capability, along with many other functions,” Topal replied with sadness. “I’m sure you can hear the sounds of battle outside our blast doors. Dominion forces have boarded our vessel and are trying to reach our sovereign.”

“Then why do you have him sitting in one spot like a gift-wrapped target?” Glover asked in exasperation. “He should be on the move, and so should we. We’ve got to take it to the enemy.”

“No,” Topal violently shook his head, the hoop earrings he wore jingled at the frantic movement. “Our first duty is to protect the Exarch. The Dominion forces can’t penetrate our blast doors.” The man finished with pride in his voice.

“They don’t need to,” Glover retorted. “If they take command of the ship, from say engineering, they can destroy this vessel from there, or fly it back across the border, right into Dominion hands.”

“Respectfully,” Topal paused to gauge the pips on Terrence’s collar, “Captain…”

“Glover,” Terrence tersely replied. “Captain Terrence Glover.”

“Captain Glover we have already discussed that possibility, but we have confidence that our warriors can defend our vessel. The Exarchal Guard chosen to serve this ship was culled from the finest soldiers in the Exarchate.”

“Perhaps if they saw the man they were defending helping lead the charge, it might give them more incentive,” Glover said pointedly. There was a collective gasp followed by a low snarling across the bridge. Jedalla stepped forward, a disruptor and a wicked looking dagger rooted in both of his large paws. Juanita saw the captain subtly reaching back for the mek’leth resting against the small of his back, kept in place by his belt.

Jedalla stopped before Glover and looked down at him, his glistening snout twitching. Terrence looked up, not backing away. “You are an arrogant one human,” Jedalla said. “But that doesn’t make your words any less true, nor the sting of our inaction any less painful.”

“Your Highness,” Topal began.

“Silence,” Jedalla said quietly. The fat man stopped in mid-sentence, his jowls quivering. “I allowed others to speak for me, to make decisions for me in this matter,” he paused, glancing at Topal and then his mate. “But no longer! Remove that vile Klingon blade behind your back and join me.” The Alshain ruler lifted his blade. Glover’s stone-face cracked, but he complied with Jedalla’s request.

The other Alshain, including Topal, pulled daggers from their persons to and raised them toward the ceiling. Jedalla took in the room, his eyes settling disappointedly on Pell and Juanita. Everyone else did too, including a more bemused Captain Glover. Pell shrugged, unclipped the phaser from her belt and raised it. Juanita followed suit. Jedalla grinned. “Let the hunt begin,” he ordered.
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[BrotherBenny]

Bye bye Breen

 

[Gibraltar]

Most excellent! They are going a-hunting.

Excellent tactics with the ignition of the trilithium and the collision-course beam-out.

 

[Dnoth]

It's about time Jedalla took charge. This will get ugly...not to mention bloody, maybe a little smelly.

 

[CeJay]

Who ever said Terrence doesn't bring out the best in people? Sly son of a gun.

 

[mirandafave]

Everything all the guys above said. As I stated before, Glover might be an arrogant prig but at times, when he can insult the Ashlain leader like this and get away with it, he deserves to be a little smug. Just a little mind.

 

[DarKush]

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Exarch-Class Cruiser Vyras
Outside Main Propulsion Chamber

Thot Pram almost fell to his knees. One arm shot out, punching in one of the smooth plastic panels along the wall for purchase. His legs trembled, but he remained standing. Due to the psionic tie he held with the organic parts of his battle cruiser, he felt it die in a searing conflagration. A dagger had pierced its heart, followed by an intense heat that he felt even inside his refrigerated suit. Then, there was oblivion.

Many of his kinsmen had perished, some from the psychic feedback caused by their ship’s passing. But he didn’t need them to take this vessel. Claiming it as a trophy would assuage some of his pain and hurt pride. He would have to survive the battle waging around him first. They had fought at times hand-to-hand to make it to the threshold of the ship’s engine room. Once they secured it, Pram could take command of the Vyras and drive it back to Dominion-occupied space. Barring that, he could sabotage the propulsion system and simply wait to rendezvous with the Breen that had pursued the Diadem.

The door to the main prize lay right around the corner, but the Alshain had activated blast doors sealing off the engine room. And a line of Alshain warriors stood in front of the door. For the last few moments, they had been exchanging volleys with the Alshain, to no avail. But somehow the lupines had assessed the momentary break, caused by the warship’s destruction, as a prime opportunity to attack. And they had.

The timing made Pram suspect that the Alshain had cleverly led them into a trap. But he hadn’t had much time to dwell on that before the first wave of fur and claws sliced into the boarding party. Though still in agony, Pram mowed down as many of the creatures as he could before his disruptor was swiped from his hand, an Alshain clamping down on the wrist of his gun hand with powerful jaws. The lupine bit down, and Pram heard a crack. He didn’t hear the gun hitting the ground. He didn’t hear anything at all for a few moments. He was consumed by a white hot pain greater than the ship’s oblivion.

Staggering back, holding the stump of his hand close to his chest, Pram frantically reached for the dagger at his side while the Alshain advanced. The large, brown-furred beast was on all fours. It chewed on his hand for a few seconds, spitting it out. “No blood?” The Alshain asked, “How disgusting.”

“You’ll suffer for what you took from me,” Pram promised. “Once I am through with you, I will have my vengeance upon your homeworld.”

“You won’t survive the next few seconds to ever make good on that threat,” the Alshain said before leaping. The creature slammed into him, knocking him back against a wall. The Alshain slashed and bit, his claws goring Pram’s mask. The Alshain’s claws had ripped his armor and torn into his flesh. “Pathetic,” the Alshain remarked, breathing heavily above him. “I’ll make this quick and move on to real prey.”

The creature batted away Pram’s knife hand and roughly nudged his head back, exposing his neck. The Alshain dove quickly for Pram’s neck, but stopped suddenly and then began screaming. Blood spurted across Pram’s visor, blinding him. But the helmet’s other sensors showed the heat radiating off the Alshain cooling rapidly, and it already felt like the creature’s muscles had relaxed and it had become dead weight. He struggled to push the warrior off him, but being one-handed made it difficult.

“Are you well?” The Jem’Hadar First asked, the request sounding strange coming from his cracked, scaled lips. Pram wiped the blood away from his visor. The fearsome warrior stood over him, a bloody kar’takin dripping from one of his fists. Through his visor, Pram could see that the look of disgust on the First’s face. It was reflected on the visages of the other Jem’Hadar soldiers. The Jem’Hadars’ recent arrival had turned the tide of the attack back in their favor. Now the way to the propulsion chamber had been cleared, the floor covered mainly by furry corpses.

Pram had ordered the Jem’Hadar squadron to remain aboard his ship until he called upon them. The Thot had intended to use them sparingly, if at all. He wanted the glory of bringing the Exarch to the Founder. Thot Gor had already showed the Cardassians their place in the Dominion. Now Pram wished to do the same. If the Jem’Hadar had followed orders they would’ve been caught in the warship’s explosion. Their disobeying orders had saved Pram’s life, but he could not allow such willfulness to go unpunished.

Even now, the smug look on the First’s face was proof enough that the Jem’Hadar thought the Breen were weak. Pram would prove them wrong.

He stood upright and glanced at his kinsmen, ignoring the Breen. He was in command of this mission and he would respond to the First when he felt like it, if at all. He jabbed a gloved finger at his second-in-command, Subthot Tonfa. “Subthot Tonfa, execute the Jem’Hadar First for disobeying my orders.”

Tonfa drew his weapon. The Jem’Hadar moved to protect their squadron leader. But the First bellowed for them to stop. He stood his ground and looked up at the Breen warrior. “Thot Pram is correct. The consequences of my actions do not excuse them.”

Pram turned to Tonfa. “Carry out my order.”

“At once sir,” Tonfa replied. He shot the Jem’Hadar cleanly through the forehead. Pram eyed the Jem’Hadar Second.

“You are now First,” He said brusquely.

“What are your orders?” The Jem’Hadar replied, standing rigidly at attention. The other Jem’Hadar also stood ready for battle. The disgust and smugness had been replaced by impassive expressions so frosty that it reminded Pram of home.

“Penetrate those blast doors,” Pram commanded.
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Exarch-Class Cruiser Vyras
Central Corridor Leading to Command Salon

The Alshain didn’t believe in subtlety and Captain Glover liked that. Exarch Jedalla led the war host and Terrence did his best to keep up with them. The Alshain thundered down the latinum-inlaid hallway, portentous Rigelian opera music pouring from bulkhead speakers.

The sheer audacity of the full on attack had taken the Breen invaders by surprise. But Terrence sensed something else was wrong with the Breen. They weren’t quite as fast or fierce as he expected. They seemed groggy, but that didn’t stop Glover’s attack. Whom he couldn’t shoot with his phaser he cut down with his mek’leth; each Breen that fell before him was payback for Earth and Chin’toka, for Jasmine, Pedro, Nyota, and Dhalamanisha.

The whole of the Breen Confederacy couldn’t sate his bloodlust right now. Soon his body was slick with his sweat and blood. His muscles ached and his entire body shook from exhaustion. In the midst of such carnage, he had never felt so alive. And he didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, do neither, or do both.

“Their flesh is as rancid as I thought,” Jedalla said. The monarch sat upon a pile of Breen corpses, all pretensions gone. He threw a severed Breen arm onto the bloodstained floor. Some of the other surviving Alshain continued to gnaw on their prey, some of whom were still alive.

“Completely unappetizing,” remarked another Alshain soldier.

Pell made her way over to him. She was also covered in thick, red blood. He reached for her, concerned, but she said, “It’s not mine…mostly not mine.”

“Are you hurt?” Glover asked. He had been so consumed by his rage that he had forgotten about Pell. He was glad that he had ordered Juanita to remain on the bridge. Pell had survived the Cardassian occupation of Bajor and had seen countless horrors. She could stomach what they had done against the Breen, but he wanted to shield Juanita from that brutal reality as long as he could. It was the least he could do for Pedro, to keep his sister’s hands as free of blood as possible. He brushed back the Bajoran’s matted hair, checking for wounds. He thankfully only found a few scratches and bruises.

“You look the worst for wear,” Pell cracked. Then she looked around her, and the crooked grin fell away. “Dear Prophets….what have we done?”

“Not enough,” Jedalla declared. “Breen have infested this entire vessel. We must root them out and eliminate them. This was only the beginning.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that,” Pell replied.
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[CeJay]

The Breen perspective certainly was intersting. And while I usally prefer my Breen shrouded into mystery, I like what you're doing with them here. The psionic link to their organic ship was especially intriguing.

Looks like the battle for control of the Alshain ship is going to be tougher then anticipated. But you certainly can't accuse Glover (or the Alshain) of holding back.

Well done.

 

[DarKush]

I had established the psionic link angle in the previous version of this story, and I think I mentioned it in "Corruption of Blood", which chronologically takes place after this story, so I decided to revisit it. I hadn't intended to write from the Breen perspective at first, but I decided why not? I wanted to play with the idea of how the Breen might consider their what their value is to the Dominion. I think they consider themselves at the top, second only to the Founders, if not better than the changelings. They are already being favored over the Cardassians so I can see them thinking about supplanting the Jem'Hadar as well.


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USS Diadem
Chief Medical Officer’s Office

“Give it to me straight Doctor?” Lt. Tom Reeves asked though Dr. Heine’s grim expression already told him what he needed to know.

Gretchen Heine spelled it out for him. “The captain has experienced a nervous breakdown.” She paused to glance at Lt. Morales, the ship’s counselor. Roberto gave a terse, solemn nod. “She’s in no condition to command.”

“I see,” Reeves replied, forcing himself to breathe.

“As the highest ranking bridge officer left, you’re in command now,” Gretchen replied. She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Tom needed all the support he could get, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

“Tom, I’m here if you need me too,” Lt. Morales said, his somber expression now sympathetic.

“Thank you both,” Reeves said. “I’m going to need it especially in the coming hours. We’ve got to go back and find out what happened to the Vyras.”
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Exarch-Class Cruiser Vyras
Main Propulsion Chamber

Captain Glover had long discarded his phaser for an Alshain rifle. He held the long firearm against his shoulder as he crouched down and placed his back against the wall. Nadfar Durgo released a hoverfly from his large palm. The small, mechanical spying device zipped around the corner. The video display on Terrence’s rifle revealed the large, molten hole through the blast doors leading to the ship’s Main Propulsion chamber.

“Damn it, they’ve gotten through,” Terrence growled. “We were too late.” The remaining members of Jedalla’s team had encountered stiff resistance at the Armory, but had prevailed against the Prethot that had taken up position there. Securing a transporter pad, the exarch had then ordered for them to be beamed near Main Propulsion afterward.

Terrence was glad that Pell was among the living. She took up position beside him, doing her best to modulate her ragged breathing. “Haven’t been working out lately have you?” Glover teased.

“You’re way too chipper about this,” Pell admonished.

“Doling out a little payback for Chin’toka, what’s not to like about that?” The Bajoran’s mouth drew into a tight line.

“Don’t let your vengeance consume you,” She said more softly. “You won’t like what you turn into.”

“Too late,” Glover admitted.

“Enough chatter,” Exarch Jedalla strode past them. “We take back our ship completely, now!”
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USS Diadem
Main Bridge

Lt. Thomas Reeves hated the feel of the cold leather. The captain’s chair felt too big for him. He had dreamed about perhaps taking command of a vessel someday, but it was far too soon. He turned to Lt. Daf, who he had taken over Executive Officer duties. The Trill looked just as daunted as Tom felt. He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or concerned about that.

“Sir, we’re detecting a vessel on long range sensors,” Daf said. The Trill has also assumed control over the operations console. Tom’s throat seized his breath. The entire bridge grew deathly silent. “It’s Romulan,” Daf said, letting them off the hook seconds later. “They’re hailing us.”

“Whoever would’ve imagined the day when hearing that would be a relief?” Warrant Officer Zoll, at the tactical console, asked.

“What are they doing here, so deep in Federation space?” Ensign Baker darkly pondered. Tom shared the young flight controller’s concerns. The Romulan Neutral Zone was too far away for a vessel to traverse so quickly to respond to their hails. Despite the wartime alliance, both the Federation and the Star Empire were still wary of each other, and no Romulan warship would be allowed access this far into Federation territory without an escort. So, it begged the question, what happened to the escort?

“Perhaps they encountered some Breen trouble too?” Zoll offered.

“Maybe,” Tom rubbed his chin. He wished he could consult the captain, but Dr. Heine had placed her under heavy sedation. “Let’s answer their hail.”

The main viewer filled with static before it resolved around a figure plucked from Tom’s nightmares. A pallid monstrous visage stared back at him, its black eyes as deep and pitiless as two singularities. Tom forced himself not to recoil. “I’m….Lieutenant Thomas Reeves, USS Diadem.”

“Where is your captain?” The creature’s voice was gravelly.

“I am in command of this vessel,” Reeves said simply. The creature cocked his head, regarding Tom for a few seconds before replying.

“I understand,” he replied. “I am Iako, master of the Galar. I am Reman,” he added, sensing Tom’s confusion. He had never seen an actual Reman before, though he had heard about them. One of the major servitor races of the Star Empire, they inhabited the sister world of Romulus. He had sort of thought they were an urban myth more than real. “We also encountered a Dominion ambush. Our Starfleet escort was destroyed, and most of the Romulan bridge officers were killed.”

“Oh my,” one of the bridge crew behind Tom gasped, but he didn’t look around.

“After destroying remaining attackers, we received your distress call and laid a course immediately to render assistance.”

“Thank you,” Tom said. “But perhaps we could provide assistance to you as well.”

Iako nodded. “We will discuss it further when we rendezvous with your ship.”

“Agreed,” Reeves said. Once the Galar had cut off the communications link, Tom turned to his bridge crew. “So guys, what do you think?”

“The story sounds plausible,” Zoll said, folding his arms across his massive chest. “But something about it is amiss.”

“I agree,” Tom said. “Daf, I want you to find out everything you can about the Galar and the Starfleet ship that was escorting her. Then cull the database for anything you can find about the Remans.”

“I’m on it,” The Trill replied. Reeves next turned to Zoll.

“I know the crew is tired, but I want to maintain yellow alert.” The Zaldan nodded in agreement. “Keep everybody on their toes Mr. Zoll.”

“I will,” he said tersely.

“Eloise,” Reeves directed his comment to the helm officer. “All stop.”

“Aye sir,” Ensign Baker complied. The ship slowed to a stop and hung in space.

“The Galar will arrive in less than a half-hour,” Daf said, without being prompted.

“So, what do we do now?” Baker asked.

“Anybody got a deck of cards?” Reeves joked.
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Exarch-Class Cruiser Vyras
Command Salon

“I’m tired of just sitting her, ringing my hands,” Ensign Juanita Rojas complained.

“Actually you are standing young cub,” Vizier Topal replied. The heavyset man stood beside the medal-bedecked admiral lounging in his throne-like command chair.

“You know what I mean,” Rojas shot back.

“Patience Ensign,” Queen Symea said with surprising charity. “Your captain ordered you to remain on the bridge for your protection.”

“I don’t need protecting…your Highness,” Juanita added quickly. She didn’t want to disrespect the co-ruler of the Alshain, particularly when she was the only human still on the bridge. “I can take care of myself.”

“I see that you can,” Symea’s voice and tone were matronly. “But it is not what your commander wished, and you must obey the orders of a superior. That is the way of things.”

Juanita wanted to argue, but thought better of it, and shut her mouth. The bridge filled with the sounds of the pitched battle being waged for the engine room. The blurred sights and muted sounds were being filtered through the hoverflies zipping about. It was disjointed, disconcerting and all too similar to the jerky, abrupt nature of real combat. Deep down, Juanita wasn’t so sure that she really wanted to be at the captain’s side right now or not. She couldn’t say the same for the queen. Symea had walked to the front of the salon. Her ears stood straight on her head and her lips were pulled back, baring fangs as she took in the battle. Juanita wished she had an ounce of the queen’s strength.

A loud scream rent the speakers, and Symea buckled. Topal and several Alshain rushed to her side, and helped her to her feet. “It was Jedalla,” she said, “He has been struck down!” The queen yanked away from the Vizier and dashed to the lift doors. Several guards rushed to accompany her. Juanita was right on their heels. Symea turned abruptly, startling Juanita.

“Little one, are you prepared for what might await us?”

Juanita struggled with the lie on her lips. “No,” she admitted. A smile threatened to break through Symea’s sad demeanor.

“Stay with me and you will survive this day,” Symea promised. “But no one who touched the Exarch will live one second beyond our arrival.”
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[BrotherBenny]

Hell hath no fury like an Alshain Queen scorned...and this one is about as scorned as you can get. Juanita will be getting another trial by fire and if she emerges from it intact she will be far stronger, and a completely different person than she - or Glover - wanted to be.

 

[mirandafave]

That's heck of a cliffhanger. Like the relationship between Junitia and the Queen, here. Also the honesty of Junitia's reactions to the situation. Scared and not really wanting to be at Glover's side and admitting to the Queen not ready for what they might see.

Another honest reaction was Reeves taking the command chair and how it didn't feel right. That read very right in light of the circumstances. The quips at the end are a little jarring, I can understand why he might try that approach but I'd have imagined an attempt at such humour would come a little more akwardly. Needless to say though, I really liked the unfolding story on the Diadem and how this story is now taking even greater twists.

With this new Reman element things are more than a little suss and it could complicate matters greatly. Perhaps it is not only the Breen who believe themselves to be higher up the food-chain. This will be interesting. And after your Breen perspective might we be treated to a Reman perspective?

Glover is being consumed by vengeance here and not even Pell's word seem to reach him. His cold smile in response is just scary that he is willing to go that path happily.

The firefight throughout the Ashlain ship is nicely paced and not rushed. the change of perspectives adds to the drama of the fight and how chaotic and violent it is. From Glover, to the Breen, to the Salon with the Queen and Junitia. A lot of the action is even played 'off-screen' but is very effective for such a treatment.

Great stuff. Loving it.

 

[Dnoth]

Yeah, this battle is very well written. Great work!

 

[DavidFalkayn]

Very vivid battle sequences--the Alshain are most definitely a predatory species as seen here. I wonder what the Reman's game is--it's awfully convenient that all the Romulan bridge officers were killed along with the Starfleet escort...

 

[DarKush]

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Exarch-Class Cruiser Vyras
Main Propulsion

How did it come to this? Terrence thought as the Jem’Hadar warrior bent him over the railing. Below him, he felt the heat radiating from the warp coils brushing against his neck. The sharp, cold metal of the Jem’Hadar’s polearm pressed against flesh, pricking him. The fresh smell of coppery blood filled his nostrils. And it brought on another rush of adrenaline. He kicked the kneecap of the Jem’Hadar and the soldier stumbled, falling backward. Glover, holding onto the kar’takin, pushed forward, throwing the Jem’Hadar to the ground. He fell on top of the man. He began choking the man with the staff of his own weapon. The Jem’Hadar’s eyes bulged as he gasped for air. He pounded against Terrence’s back, but Glover put his full weight onto the weapon until the Jem’Hadar began twitching spasmodically.

Terrence pressed harder until the soldier expelled his last breath. Shivering, Terrence unsteadily got to his feet. Realizing the kar’takin was still in his hands, he stabbed the Jem’Hadar several times to make sure he was dead.

“Head’s up Captain!” Pell shouted. Glover jerked his head around just in time to see a Jem’Hadar rushing toward him, the shimmering from its shrouding affect still surrounding him. Terrence rushed the man, swinging the kar’takin low and raking it across the warrior’s stomach. Blood spattered everywhere. Glover pushed the disemboweled man to the side and charged at a Breen who was hunched over a terminal.

Terrence had led a small team up the stairwell to the platform above the warp coils powering the ship. It had been rough going, but they had almost cleared the platform. Terrence was a bit surprised at how well Pell was doing, though he was glad he hadn’t lost her too. The Bajoran used her smaller frame and her quickness to outmaneuver around the Breen and Jem’Hadar, finding purchase with an ornate Alshain dagger when she wasn’t able to use her disruptor.

The captain slammed into the Breen. The armored alien didn’t budge. He turned and looked down at Glover, strong arming him with a sharp elbow. Terrence’s teeth cracked and his headed exploded in agony. He fell back onto a cold body, his mind struggling to stay conscious. He blinked back black waves as the Breen stood over him, a disruptor in his hand. He aimed the weapon at Glover.

The captain tried to rise, but fell back. The whine of the disruptor’s activation filled his ears. The emitter cone filled with green death. “No!” Pell screamed. The Breen turned his head. Glover remembered the polearm still clutched in his hand. He drove it straight up into the soldier’s crotch and twisted, breaking off the metal tip. The Breen’s scream was muffled by his mask, but the warrior keeled over all the same. Terrence plucked the disruptor from him and put a whole in the soldier’s chest.

Pell ran to his side. She wrapped an arm underneath his and helped him to his feet. “Are you all right sir?” She asked.

“Yeah, thanks to you.”

“The best way to thank me is to put an end to this nightmare,” Pell remarked. Glover looked around. Breen, Jem’Hadar, and Alshain corpses littered the platform like trash.

“Your wish is granted,” he replied. “The platform is secure.”

“The floor isn’t,” Pell said. Below them the sounds of battle raged on.

“Let’s do something about that then,” Glover said. He pulled away from Pell and turned to the three battered Alshain warriors left. “Time to return below.”

He took a step forward and his knees buckled. His head pulsed in agony. “Terrence,” Pell called out, rushing to prevent his fall. He felt embarrassed that he needed her assistance. “You’re not going anywhere sir,” she said with authority. “You’ve just incurred a major head trauma.” She helped prop him against a console. “Stay there until I return.”

“I’m the captain remember,” He said weakly, his strength fading.

“Being your friend trumps that right now,” Pell remarked. “And if you don’t like it, report me.”

“Once we finish helping mop up the other invaders, I’ll come back with a doctor,” Pell said.

An anguished roar cut through Glover’s head like a buzz saw. Pell tensed. Durgo cried from below, “The Exarch has fallen!”

“Oh Prophets,” Pell whispered. “Can it get any worse?”
*****************************************************************
USS Diadem
Captain’s Ready Room

Lt. Thomas Reeves perched at the edge of the captain’s ice desk. He had become used to the chilled temperature of the room over the past several months since he had first boarded Diadem, but sitting on a hunk of ice, maintained by a stasis field, numbed his backside. However, he was hesitant to take the captain’s more comfortable Tellarite leather seat. Tom felt that if he sat in it, Captain Tallis might never return.

He folded his arm and nodded his head, using his movement to try to mask his shivering. “So, you weren’t able to dig up much on the Remans huh?”

“No sir,” Lt. Kurman Daf said, a dejected look on his swarthy face. “All the databanks had on them were that the Remans were a slave/servant caste within the Star Empire, and they had principally been used as fodder for some of the toughest engagements in the war thus far.”

Tom rubbed his chin, partly in thought, and partly to warm his fingers. “Okay, what about the Starfleet escort?”

Daf brightened slightly, before sadness overcast his features again, “The Alphard,” the Trill answered. He turned to Warrant Officer Zoll. “Mr. Zoll can fill you in better than I can.”

“Not really,” the blunt spoken Zaldan replied with a shrug. “I checked with one of my contacts in Starfleet Intelligence.”

“Wow, that was quick,” Tom remarked. “How did you do that?”

Zoll unnerved Reeves by smiling. “An old Zaldan secret,” he intoned. “I’ve been in the Fleet for a long time and built up a lot of favors along the way. I don’t like cashing in my chips unless it’s absolutely necessary, and I felt this fit under that description.”

“I would concur,” Tom said, “But go on.”

“Unfortunately, my contact didn’t provide me. They only said the Alphard was escorting the Galar away from Starbase 21.”

“Why would that be a state secret?” Daf asked. “SB 21 is near the Romulan Neutral Zone and has been a hub for cross border activity during the war.”

“I know,” Zoll scowled, “which makes the fact that the journey was hush, hush very interesting.”

“Yeah, it does,” Tom said, adopting Zoll’s scowl. He pushed off from the frigid desk. “Any chance the Remans will provide more information?”

Zoll grunted and Daf shook his head in the negative. “You guys must be reading my mind,” Reeves replied, “but it won’t us to ask.”

“You sure about that?” Zoll countered.

“Time will tell Mr. Zoll,” Reeves answered, “time will tell.”
********************************************************************
Exarch-Class Cruiser Vyras
Main Propulsion

Ensign Juanita Rojas stared blankly at the blood soaked scene before her, her mind unable to process the carnage for several seconds. Realization and the horror she had rushed into hit her all at once, driven by Symea’s fierce wail.

The Exarch, the ruler of all Alshain, was prone on the deck, the shaft of a Jem’Hadar blade sticking out of his midsection. Surprisingly he was groaning and his limbs twitched, but Juanita didn’t know how much life he had left in him. What looked like Durgo, or at least half of him was beside the fallen monarch. Around him the battle still raged. Juanita looked frantically for Captain Glover or Pell. She heard a whistle above the din and looked up to see Commander Pell wave briefly at her before she pulled her firearm and aimed it at Juanita.

The young woman ducked as a beam sizzled just above her head. She heard a grunt, was assaulted by the smell of burning duraweave and flesh, and then heard a loud thud. Juanita glanced backward to see a Jem’Hadar warrior dead behind her, missing a large portion of his chest. That’s when she realized that she was in the middle of a war zone and would have to fight if she was going to survive. Pell, and several other Alshain warriors began picking off invaders from an upraised platform. Juanita was alarmed that she still didn’t see the captain, but she couldn’t find out what happened to him until they had retaken the engine room.

Queen Symea, enraged with grief had charged off, as had her retinue of soldiers. The queen had used her claws to behead the first Breen that she encountered. Juanita quickly got into the act, arcing her disruptor around to protect the queen’s back. Her first shot dissolved a rampaging Jem’Hadar’s shoulder. The fierce warrior kept coming. Her third shot took him out permanently.

Shaking violently, and trying to get her nerves under control, Juanita got as close to Symea as possible, though she was cognizant not to get too close. She didn’t want to woman to lop off her head or any other body part in her battle frenzy. Juanita pushed down her gorge, and found a corner of her mind to place her fear. She allowed her training and her sense of self-preservation to guide her hand. She didn’t enjoy what she was doing, the pain she inflicted on sentient beings, and she knew the faces and voices, the smells of death would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life, but she pressed on. She had to live, Pedro would want that, and she wouldn’t let the Dominion take away her parents’ last surviving child.

Her muscles ached and her soul shriveled, but Juanita wouldn’t quit until her disruptor battery died. Even then, she turned the weapon around and used its handle as a bludgeon. Thankfully the fighting didn’t last long. The new influx of Alshain proved too much for the Dominion invaders, though the Jem’Hadar and most of the Breen fought until they were killed.

The Alshain spared one Breen. After the battle was won, Symea called for a medical team to attend to the Exarch. They brought a mobile stasis unit and carefully placed the wounded man inside it. He weakly grasped Symea’s hand and tried to speak, but blood bubbled from his lips. Symea untangled her hand from his and bade the medics to speed the sovereign to their medical chamber. The queen then regarded her prisoner.

Two burly, blood drenched guards held the sole Breen by his arms, and pinned to the floor. Queen Symea stood over him. She spat on his snout-like mask. “What is your name and rank?” She asked. The Breen mumbled something, the language garbled to Juanita’s ears. She wished she had paid more attention in her xeno-linguistics class.

“His rank…He is Subthot Tonfa.” By this time, Commander Pell had descended the platform. She walked gingerly over to the assembled group, one hand pressed against her side.

“You know Breen?” Queen Symea asked, both skeptical and impressed.

“Only a little,” Pell said.

“Tell him that if the Exarch dies, I will personally eliminate his entire crèche,” Symea commanded. Pell haltingly repeated the message. Juanita heard a scraping sound from the masked warrior, and his chest rose and fell. The Alshain guards twisted his arms and what must have been laughter stopped.

The Breen spoke again, more slowly, his voice sounding labored. “I will be sure to find you once this war is over. You will make an excellent hunting dog.”

Symea snarled, drawing her blade. Pell placed a hand on the woman’s forearm and then quickly withdrew it. The queen stared at the Bajoran with a gaze that could melt duranium. “Never touch my person again,” she said with lethal softness.

Pell looked down and away, “My apologies,” she said, her voice strained.

“I'll excuse the breach,” Symea said before turning back to the Breen. “You will live. For now. Perhaps the secrets we pull from that four-lobe brain of yours what we need to rid the Alpha Quadrant of the Dominion.” She motioned and the two guards began pummeling the Breen until he was unconscious. Then they dragged him away. The queen then looked around at the remaining Alshain, her glare cutting. “You could have at least spared the Thot or Prethot, we might glean little from that one…but at least the process shall be enjoyable.”

The Queen followed the two guards out of the room, and a battered entourage followed them. Pell and Juanita were alone. “Where’s the captain?” Juanita tried to keep the fear out of his voice.

“Up there,” Pell wearily pointed. “He suffered some head trauma, a few lost teeth, and some cuts and bruises…the usual,” the Bajoran tried to smile, but winced instead. She patted Juanita on the shoulder, “You did well Ensign.”

“Uh…thank you sir,” Juanita stood up a little taller at the compliment. She had been just been trying to survive, and hadn’t done anything exemplary, but she would take the accolade all the same.

“Let’s see if we can get that lift working,” Pell nodded in the direction of a turbolift alcove. She had carefully used a ladder to reach the lower deck before. “We’ll have to take the captain to the Medical Salon ourselves it seems.”

“Yeah, no all star treatment for Starfleet officers on this barge, even captains,” Juanita said.

“I’m just glad that Terrence is unconscious. Learning that he’s not the alpha male on this ship would be terribly upsetting to him,” Pell cracked.

“It’s our secret then,” Juanita smiled.

“Deal.”
******************************************************************

 

[Dnoth]

“I’m just glad that Terrence is unconscious. Learning that he’s not the alpha male on this ship would be terribly upsetting to him,” Pell cracked.

OH, Glover and his poor overinflated, yet fragile, ego.

Well, the initial assault has been won, but is the battle over?

 

[CeJay]

Still a big Juanita fan. She may not be one of Starfleet's finest but hey, they can't all be Terrence Glover's. And thank god for that.

Brutal fighting but never really expected anything less.

 

[DavidFalkayn]

Juanita acquitted herself as well as could be expected here--as did Pell and the others in what was an incredibly savage and brutal fight. With the likelihood of even harder fighting to come, Juanita is going to be tested--but I think Pedro's sister will come through just fine.

 

[DarKush]

Thanks again for reading and commenting. Juanita's been a bit of a mystery for me for a long time and this story is finally giving me a chance to explore her character a bit. I'm glad you guys are liking her.

Sidenote: After reading the Alien Spotlight on the Romulans, I decided to change the name of the warbird Galar to Acastus. It sort of makes me feel like I'm getting something for plopping down 4 bucks for a decent, but average comic. Hope you enjoy the next installment.

******************************************************************
Exarch-Class Cruiser Vyras
Vizier’s Chambers

“I can’t believe we were denied entrance into the Medical Salon!” thundered Lord Narl D’Noth. The venerable D’Noth represented the Peerage, the clique of nobles that ruled served as Exarch’s chief advisors.

“I stand by the medic’s decision,” Vizier Topal said excitedly, his jowls quivering in exasperation. “The risk of infection might be too great. Besides, I’m sure that Lord Burim would also not like his medical procedures critiqued.” D’Noth growled and folded his spindly gray-furred arms across his emaciated chest. The old man appeared weighted down by the heavy, fine-woven garments he wore, but his eyes radiated with a willful fire that denied his age.

“But even the humans were granted entry into the chamber,” the old man said in protest.

“Of course, their colleague was wounded too, and he required medical assistance,” Topal replied, shaking his head as if it were obvious. “And you are already aware that they are in a separate healing chamber.”

“I know that Sept D’Noth likes to place itself as closest in proximity to the Exarch’s hindquarters as possible, but for security’s sake only the Queen and the new Nadfar were allowed in the operation suite,” Nauarch L’Dac said, smiling at Lord Nad’s withering gaze.

“Enough you two,” War Minister Ardit replied sternly. “Save the running rivalry between your septs for the Dueling Pits. The very fate of our empire is hanging in Lord Burim’s hands. I hope they are skillful enough.”

“If anything happens to the Exarch that is not the will of the gods, I will find out,” Lady Diellza, head of the dreaded Unguis secret police, said quietly.

“I didn’t call you all here to snipe at each other or make threats,” Topal admonished the group. “I called you here to discuss our options in light of the Exarch’s incapacitation. After surgery, it might take him days to recover, and barring any more unpleasantness from the Dominion, I want to make sure we present a unified front to the Federation Alliance.”

“Despite the concerns many in the Peerage had over the Exarch’s decision to join the war,” D’Noth said, “They are now moot due to the Dominion’s perfidious assault. Alshain honor demands a harsh response.”

“I agree,” War Minister Ardit said slowly, “though this attack might just prove to some that we shouldn’t get involved. If the Exarch had not embarked on this summit, the Dominion would’ve had no reason to attack us.”

“The Dominion doesn’t need a reason to attack, they are conquerors, it is their nature,” L’Dac replied. Ardit bared his teeth, not liking being upstaged by his subordinate.

Ardit shook his snow-white head. “There is no proof to support your assertion. The Dominion has not conquered anyone. The Cardassians, and now the Breen have joined them willingly.”

“Don’t forget the Son’a,” Diellza smirked, but the war minister ignored the taunt.

“The Dominion signed non-aggression pacts with the Bajorans, the Tholians, and the Miradorn. Some might argue that if the Exarch hadn’t rejected a similar offer earlier in the conflict, the Dominion might not have turned to the Son’a in the first place. And the Exarchate would be the beneficiary of Dominion technology while avoiding the conflict.”

“ ‘Some’, or just you?” Diellza asked sweetly, but there was nothing saccharine in her hard gaze.

“I’ll admit that I had doubts about the capacity of the Starforce to wage war against the Dominion, with their endless supply of Jem’Hadar.”

“That supply isn’t endless,” Diellza countered. “Starfleet cut off the Dominion’s link to the Gamma Quadrant quite some time ago.”

“And this proposed plan to attack the ketracel white facility in the Maw will hamper the Dominion’s ability to replenish their ranks even more,” L’Dac said. Ardit growled just loud enough for L’Dac to get the hint.

“If it is successful,” D’Noth replied, with obvious skepticism. “The Maw is not a traipse across the savannah, like the Briar Patch.” He rubbed the long, straggly tuft hanging from his chin. “The ship I served on barely survived the Maw when our Sutahr ordered us to pursue some Orion pirates. I saw a wormhole open up like the mouth of heaven and swallow the Orions whole,” the man recalled in grim wonder.

“The wormholes that form within the Maw is another reason the mission is critical,” L’Dac said. “What if the singularities are not as unstable as we have been led to believe? What if the Dominion is doing more in the Maw than producing ketracel white? What if they are trying to find another route home so they can bring this war to a conclusion?”

Ardit interjected, “It is best not to ask such inquiries.” The admiral finally retreated, hunching his shoulders and tucking his chin against his neck.

“We’re all privy to state secrets here,” D’Noth huffed. “We all know what was said at Starbase 21.”

“Yes, but how can we know if there are not spies or saboteurs still on this ship?” Diellza asked, looking at each of the assembled. “The Jem’Hadar have a shrouding technique that makes the virtually unable to detect. We don’t even know how many beamed over from the Breen vessel so we don’t know if any survived. Shrouded Jem’Hadar could be walking among us, maybe even in this room.” Everyone was taken aback by the spymaster’s ominous words.

“By the concerned expressions on your faces Lady Diezlla’s words have struck true with you as well,” Vizier Topal said dolefully, “and it for that reason, pursuit with our laws and customs that I give over command of this vessel to the Unguis.”
**************************************************************
Exarch-Class Cruiser Vyras
Healing Chamber

The semi-transparent egg holding Terrence Glover separated with a soft hiss. He blinked several times before he could make out the two blobs standing before him. The calming sounds of Andorian Blues were being piped in through hidden speakers.

“Are you okay sir?” Ensign Rojas asked, wringing her hands while she waited for an answer. Glover smiled reassuringly at the young woman and reached out for her hand, but coming up short due to the mass of wires attached to his arms, head, and chest.

“Lord Burim gave us authority to remove these, let us help,” Lt. Commander Pell said, getting to work before Terrence could protest. First she handed him a shift to put on. He used it to cover his private parts while they unlatched him from the monitoring equipment.

“Care to turn around for a second,” he said with less embarrassment than the situation called for. He donned the shift quickly, the cool air in the room prickling his naked arms and legs. A wind tickled his backside until he was able to tie the back of the shift together.

“All right, I’m clothed,” the captain said. He then stretched his legs and yawned, stretching the muscles in his arm and back. “You know I sort of feel like I’ve been in a spa more than being treated.”

“You need to be more careful to protect that noggin of yours sir,” Pell admonished.

“The same could be said for you,” Terrence pointed at the jagged, bloodstained hole in the side of Pell’s uniform. “Are you okay?”

“Yes sir,” Pell nodded. “My injuries were less severe. The Alshain offered me clothing, but surprisingly they had nothing in my size.” All three shared a laugh before Glover looked at Juanita.

“How are you doing?”

Juanita gulped before answering. “I’m doing fine sir.”

“Better than fine,” Glover patted the woman’s shoulder. “You handled yourself well back there.”

“Thanks sir,” Juanita blushed, “but how would you know?”

“You’re here, and in much better shape than Pell or me,” Glover grinned, “That’s good enough confirmation that you did an amazing job.”

“He’s right, and I did see you in action,” Pell replied. “Any fight you can walk away from his a good fight for you.”

“Okay, I guess,” Juanita said nervously. Terrence realized the young officer didn’t like being the focus of attention so he shifted the focus.

“Pell, what’s been going on aboard the ship?”

“Lady Diellza, of the Unguis, has taken command of the ship,” the Bajoran said darkly.

“The Unguis?” Glover asked.

“The Alshain secret police,” Pell explained. “And she’s had her agents and the security staff set up both mandatory and random blood screenings for Changeling infiltrators. She’s had non-essential personnel restricted to quarters and she’s ordered patrols throughout the ship, hunting for any Jem’Hadar who might’ve escaped.”

Terrence rubbed his chin, “Well, that sounds reasonable,” he replied. “But I’m a little surprised that the secret police hold such sway in the Exarchate. That fact is not one that will go over well once it becomes more widely known in the Federation.”

“Alshain culture is different. The Unguis are seen as another extension of the Exarch, to root out spies and other subversive elements. Jedalla greatly expanded their powers during his push to root out the Son’a and their sympathizers. He has built them up as a separate army to the Exarchal Guard, in part to check the ambitions of the Peerage.”

“In addition to his Paladin elite guard?” Glover asked, amazed.

“Jedalla was the target of a concerted assassination campaign by the Son’a early in his reign. He developed a healthy suspicion that has almost become paranoia at times over the years, if the accounts of dissidents are to be believed,” Pell said.

“Are they?” The captain asked.

“It’s hard to say,” The Bajoran shrugged. “There is probably some truth in that. But at the same time, many of those opposed to Jedalla are being funded by the Son’a.”

“I see,” Glover said. “So, how is Jedalla?”

Pell shook her head, her brow furrowing, “I don’t know. They won’t tell us.”

“Perhaps they’ll tell me,” Glover said. “I can be a bit more persuasive.”

“I’m sure you can, but for the time being, none of us are going anywhere,” Ensign Rojas said.

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

“We’ve been sealed in this room,” Pell sighed. “By order of Lady Diellza.”
*****************************************************************

USS Diadem
Main Bridge

“I don’t think you’re going to like this,” Lt. Daf replied, his face nearly pressed against the flatted surface of his terminal.

“What is it now?” Lt. Tom Reeves groaned. All too eager to vacate the captain’s daunting chair, Tom bounded out of the command well to the encircling aft deck.

The Trill looked up, his dark complexion drained of color. “Short range sensors have picked up Starfleet phaser burns along the Acastus’s secondary hull.”

“Oh God,” Tom remarked, the realization hitting him in the gut like a punch. “They attacked the Alphard didn’t they?”

“I can’t say for certain sir,” Daf replied solemnly, “But my best guess is that they did.”

“What’s the status of that ship’s weapons?” Tom asked hurriedly, aware that it was inexorably coming their way, like a slow moving lava flow.

“They don’t have operative port weapon’s banks, but aft, starboard, and prow weapon’s systems are operational.”

“Raise shields, and charge weapons,” Tom called out as he rushed back to his seat, “Red alert!”
********************************************************************
Somewhere in Alshain Space….

Keilan did her best to hide her displeasure. “All we know is that convoy was attacked and has deviated from its flight plan,” she repeated.

“And what of my nephew, is Jedalla dead?” Grand Duke Jarko asked, with a mixed expression of hopefulness and dread. “Can we finally get on with this terrible business?”

“At present, the destruction of the Vyras nor Jedalla’s status has not been confirmed,” Keilan replied. “We…have lost contact with Thot Pram, the mission’s commander.”

Jarko grunted. “Perhaps the Breen bit off more than he could chew, if they even eat. Do they eat Vorta?”

“I…would not know,” Keilan admitted. “Weyoun visited their home planet. I did not.”

“What does it matter?” Jarko harrumphed. “Without confirmation of Jedalla’s death, I can’t assume power.”

“I will get you confirmation,” the Vorta promised.

“Not if your Thot Pram has failed,” Jarko countered.

“I…have a contingency plan,” Keilan revealed.

“And that would be?” The Grand Duke prodded, but the Vorta merely smiled.
********************************************************************

 

[CeJay]

Interesting focus on the Alshain here. You are giving these guys quite the complex treatment. I have to admit though, I was a bit lost with all these new characters popping up all of a sudden.

I like how you've reduced Glover and co to spectator status. At least temporarily.

The real action seems to be taking place on the Diadem for now. Let's see if the junior officers have it in them to fight off the Remans.

 

[DarKush]

Thanks for reading CeJay. Similar to Gorkon from STVI, I knew that Jedalla would be traveling with other high-level folks and I wanted to use the scene to show some of the various factions inside the Exarchate and to show that there was a difference of opinion regarding the Alshain entering the war. The scene was also reminiscent of the Alshain Committee's squabbling and scheming from "Fallout", which I really enjoyed writing.