********************************************************************
Jem’Hadar Battle Cruiser
18-Alpha-X-92387001
Command Center
First Yak’ Tazon forced himself not to grunt in relief as the station came into view via his virtual headset display. He turned quickly to the Second at communications.
“Hail them,” he barked. The ship had hit a rough patch of gases when he had sent out his first message and the Jem’Hadar wasn’t sure if any, or all of the communiqué got through. They had to know that a taskforce was on the way and that the Cardassians on the station might be potential traitors.
“Communications are established,” the Second briskly replied.
“This is First Yak’Tazon,” he began.
“Sarkos speaking,” the smooth voice of the Vorta station chief replied. “What is your status?”
“We have just entered visual range of the station.”
“I can see that,” the Vorta snipped. “What is the status of the taskforce?”
“We lost them in a bank of gases,” the First said.
“We’re they destroyed or disabled?” He asked, with hope.
“I do not know,” the Jem’Hadar answered through.
“Very well,” Sarkos sighed. “What happened at Pyxis III? Why were you defeated?”
The Jem’Hadar flinched as if he had been physically struck by the questions. “We…we were compromised…betrayed.”
“What?”
“It was the Cardassians, they were in league with the traitor Damar,” Yak’Tazon spat, wishing he had his hands around Gul Ruder’s thick neck. “You must place all Cardassians onboard in custody and began system sweeps for sabotage.”
“Oh…Founders,” Sarkos breathed. “It… it might be too late.” The sound of disruptor fire filled the shipboard speakers, shorting out the link. The Jem’Hadar commander roared.
“First Yak’Tazon!” The Second ventured. “A Cardassian vessel has disembarked from the station and is on an intercept course.”
“Transmit power to weapons and forward shields,” he quickly ordered. Unfortunately Yak’Tazon had had to previously divert power to shields and structural integrity to prevent the cosmic gases from eating through the hull. Even now pieces of the battle cruiser trailed behind them.
“But what if they are not traitors?” The Third asked. Yak’Tazon turned on the callow Alpha. The Alpha Quadrant bred Jem’Hadar were known for their independence and their arrogance. Yak’Tazon had been created in the Gamma Quadrant and he had learned the importance of obedience the hard way. He longed to be back among his true brethren again.
“As of this moment, all Cardassians are to be considered traitors and dealt with accordingly. If future evidence proves otherwise, they still died for the Dominion.”
“Yes sir,” the Third nodded, and resumed his duties. “Weapons are fully charged.”
“Incoming,” the Second said.
Yak’Tazon squinted as his virtual display flared brightly, the sensors overwhelmed by the onrushing tide of energy. He yanked the headset off and threw it on the ground.
“Fire,” he yelled, seconds before the volley slammed into the ship. He was wrenched from the deck and hurled across the bridge. He smashed into flesh, armor, and metal. He felt hands tugging on him, and his back arched in a spasm of agony. He flipped open his eyelids and saw concerned soldiers bending over him. He pushed back them at the hands.
“Don’t concern yourself with me, return to your stations. Your stations!” He wrestled out of their grasp, the movements sending rivers of pain across his body. The soldiers set him down gently and rushed back to their stations.
He struggled to sit up, pain lancing his back. He tried to inspect his body to gauge his condition and the extent of his injuries, but each movement produced greater agony. The First was too proud to call for assistance, especially after he had rejected it. Staring uselessly at the ceiling while the sounds of battle were all around him, made Yak’Tazon attempt to sit up again. He bit back the pain, surprised that the ketracel white coursing through his veins hadn’t lessened it. His body shook, and sweat poured down his face, but he sat upright, supported by two shaking arms.
He chanced reaching out for the virtual headset. He slid it back on. As soon as the Jem’Hadar did, he wished he hadn’t. The Cardassian vessel carving into them had been joined by the Allied Taskforce. In typical fashion, the Son’a had run away, leaving the array’s defense up to a few Jem’Hadar ships and its own meager defenses. So how, the First was certain that the Founders would make possible their triumph. “Victory is life,” Yak’Tazon muttered. More loudly, he called, “We fight to the last man and let the final battle be joined!”
***************************************************************
Hazred Array
Control Center
“Perhaps I should come back at another time?” Erik Rydell asked, seconds after he had jumped and rolled through the threshold, coming up, his pilfered firearm aimed in front of him. During his roll he had been surprised that he hadn’t been vaporized or bayoneted, and when he had completed the roll and was on one knee, he saw why. Cardassian soldiers either stood over dead Jem’Hadar, or held their former compatriots at bay. The room was filled with the aroma of burned ozone, fried circuits, and singed flesh. Rydell had never been happier to see spoonheads more in his life. He glanced over and saw that the Cardies had herded Sarkos, Dr. Nahn, and Melcia-thankfully-into a corner. He smirked at the Orion, but she didn’t return the gesture.
“Lower your weapon human,” A sinewy, one-eyed Cardassian, a gil’s rank, adorning his breastplate barked. Erik looked back at Melcia. She tersely nodded for him to comply. Rydell reluctantly agreed. “You can stand,” the Cardassian offered.
Erik complied, also reluctantly. He bunched his muscles, ready for action. “What’s happening here?”
“Something that should’ve happened a long time ago,” A female Cardassian said, prompting a groan from One-Eye. “The Cardassian people are rising up against the Dominion.”
“About damn time,” Rydell muttered, drawing angry looks from around the room.
“Enough speeches,” One-Eye said. He turned to Rydell. “You should join the rest of the voles attempting to flee the station…before we destroy it.”
“So, you’re just going to leave us to die out here? I thought we were allies now?”
One-Eye chuckled, but the sprightly female spoke up again, “Perhaps it is best to save as many of the Federation-members at least, as possible. A sign of good intentions, perhaps?”
Another Cardassian, younger and more thickset said, “We don’t need the help of a mongrel alliance to extract the Dominion from our Union. We are Cardassians, and we can do it alone, go it alone.” He was one of the soldiers standing guard over Melcia.
“Feh, the impetuousness of youth,” the woman remarked.
“Pilon, Hakol,” he sighed. “How many times must I hear this debate?” He glared at both the man and the woman. “Just mate and get it over with already.” Several Cardassians laughed at their commander’s suggestion. Both Silon and Hakol, Erik wasn’t sure which was which, both looked ashen at the idea. Even though for a Cardassian, the female wasn’t too hard on the eyes, Rydell thought.
“I’ve already given you your one warning human,” One-Eye turned back to Rydell.
“I’m not leaving…without Melcia,” Erik said. The eyebrow over the Cardassian’s remaining eye arched upward.
“The Orion,” Rydell clarified.
“Out of the question,” Dr. Nahn said, grabbing hold of Melcia.
“Prisoners don’t make demands,” the thickset Cardassian said.
“Enough insubordination Hakol,” One-Eye snapped. Hakol quickly relented.
“My apologies Gil Rogad.”
“No,” Rogad said. “The prisoners stay with us. The…intelligence we can glean from them will help our rebellion.”
“Yeah, right,” Erik grunted. He had seen the salacious gleam in too many men’s eyes to not know exactly what Rogad had in store for Melcia. “I’m not going to allow Melcia to become a comfort woman.” His finger twitched on the trigger of his firearm. Rogad’s eye widened.
“Drop your weapon,” Rogad ordered.
“Not going to happen,” Erik said, aiming the weapon squarely at the gil.
“Stop making a fool of yourself,” Melcia admonished, “I don’t want you dying for me. I can take care of myself.”
“You don’t know Cardassians like I do,” Rydell said, “I know what they are capable of.”
“You have no clue,” Rogad sneered. “This is your last warning.” Out of the corner of his eye, Erik saw Cardassian soldiers turning towards him, and the click and whine of activated weapons. Oh shit, he thought, but he wasn’t going to back down now. Rydell was going to call Rogad’s bluff and hoped he had at least a glimmer of a chance of walking away from this alive, and with Melcia.
Erik gritted his teeth, and set his jaw, steeling himself for disintegration. “No,” he simply declared.
“Ah damn it, stop this Rogad,” Melcia broke from the Trill’s embrace and stepped forward. She scowled at Erik. “Why did you have to ruin it?” She charged.
“Ruin what?”
“And why did you have to be so damn noble and self-sacrificing that I can’t just let Rogad kill you outright?”
“Actually, you could,” The gil offered.
“Not the time,” Melcia huffed.
Erik looked from Rogad to Melcia, clearly confused and thrown for a lump by the abrupt change in the power dynamics. He took a quick inventory of the room. Sarkos and Nahn shared his puzzlement, as did Pilon and several other Cardassian soldiers. The few remaining Jem’Hadar looked too sickly to even care, if they noticed at all. Their coloring had taken on a pale grayish pallor, a death hue. “What’s going on here?”
“I’m a member of the Orion Syndicate,” Melcia said, matter-of-factly.
“I knew that already,” Erik shrugged, “So, what’s the big deal.”
“No,” the Orion shook her head, her raven locks falling like rain down her shoulders, “I’m a high-level member of the Syndicate. I allowed myself to be captured by the Dominion, so I could get close to Dr. Nahn.”
“What?” Both Erik and the Trill gasped at the same time.
Melcia smiled, “The Syndicate knew about the Son’a’s side dealing with the Dominion even while they were working with the Federation. We actually admired them for hedging their bets. We didn’t put much stock in the Trill or his wormhole theories, until the construction of this station. So, I had to get inside to observe and confirm that Nahn’s research was legitimate.”
“But how did you know you were going to be placed on this project?” Erik wanted to scratch his head, but he realized any false move might get him crisped.
“That’s where Rogad, or should I say, his boss, comes in,” the Orion smiled.
“Boss?” Pilon asked, her eyes hooding. “I don’t understand.”
“Gul Rejak,” Melcia flashed the woman a smile and a wink. “Both the good gul and the Syndicate understand how much money we could make selling wormhole technology.”
“But…what about the revolution, the liberation of our people?” Pilon asked, dejected.
“This is the best way to secure our future,” Hakol countered, “With this technology, no one can threaten us again. We can become the top power in the Alpha Quadrant still…without the Dominion.”
“Damn son you’re just as naïve as Pilon, or me,” Erik offered. “Rejak is a slimy customer and if your gil is wrapped up with him, the Cardassian people won’t receive one red cent from this technology. Rejak will sell it to the highest bidder.”
“That’s not true, it can’t be true,” Pilon begged Rogad, “Can it?”
“Why did you open your mouth?” Rogad rounded on Melcia.
The Orion shrugged, “He’ll be dead soon, and besides we need to know who we can trust from now on, now that Dr. Nahn and his brain are ours. Everyone now has a simple choice to make.”
“Could you rewind to the dead soon part?” Rydell asked.
“Shut up,” Rogad snarled before looking at the other soldiers. “So, are you in or out?” Quiet grumbles filled the room as many Cardassians struggled among themselves or within themselves. Though he only had a few minutes at best left to live, Erik found the internal and external debates fascinating to watch.
“I-I want let our fate be decided in this manner!” Sarkos shrieked above the growing din. He shoved Hakol and leapt for the console nearest him, slamming a large, translucent button, before Hakol tackled him to the ground. The lighting dimmed and the deck plates trembled beneath Erik, and the Cardassian chatter ceased immediately.
“What just happened?” Rogad yelled. He stomped over to the Trill, threw Hokal off him and lifted the man roughly by his lapels. “What did you just do?” Behind the two men, Rydell saw the button flashing green and then turning a bright, blood red.
The magneton pulse, Rydell quickly realized. “He’s activated the pulse,” Erik yelled.
“It works,” Sarkos beamed, beneath a pile of Cardassians.
“No,” Dr. Nahn shook his head, his expression grim. “Something’s wrong. Something’s terribly wrong.” The walls rattled and an electric charge washed over the room, making Erik’s hair stand on end. It tugged at the weapon in his hand, gaining in intensity until it was able to yank it out of his grasp. It crashed against a wall, and the human ducked as the firearms and weapons carried by others were drawn to the walls, which had become magnetized. Several Jem’Hadar and Cardassians, including Hokal, were skewed by the flying weapons.
“Shut it off,” Rogad shook the Vorta, “Shut it down!”
Sarkos’s grin became wider. He glared down at the gil. “Soon we’ll the full might of the Dominion will bear down on this pitiful little quadrant and your home will be one more cinder upon the ash heap.”
“Perhaps, but you won’t be alive to see it,” Rogad sneered, his hands grasping the Vorta’s neck. He snapped it before anyone could react, the crack sounding even above the rising static.
“That was unwise,” Melcia rushed to the Cardassian’s side as he threw the dead Vorta to the floor like trash. He ignored her, stepping over Sarkos.
“Can your doctor deactivate the pulse?” He asked. The Orion looked back at Nahn. The Trill was already bent over the console, his face an impassive mask of concentration.
“I don’t know,” Melcia said, on Rogad’s heels. The Cardassian gil stopped behind the Trill, peering over him.
“Can you stop the pulse or not?” Rogad grated.
“Leave him be, let him work,” Melcia demanded, tugging at the gil’s arm. He pulled roughly away from her.
“Please don’t distract me…and don’t touch her again…ever,” Nahn said, still focused on the terminal. Rydell merely watched, not sure what to do, and hating that. I hope that Ceven was smart enough to ditch me, he thought with a crazy glimmer of hope.
********************************************************************
Jem’Hadar Battle Cruiser
18-Alpha-X-92387001
Command Center
First Yak’ Tazon forced himself not to grunt in relief as the station came into view via his virtual headset display. He turned quickly to the Second at communications.
“Hail them,” he barked. The ship had hit a rough patch of gases when he had sent out his first message and the Jem’Hadar wasn’t sure if any, or all of the communiqué got through. They had to know that a taskforce was on the way and that the Cardassians on the station might be potential traitors.
“Communications are established,” the Second briskly replied.
“This is First Yak’Tazon,” he began.
“Sarkos speaking,” the smooth voice of the Vorta station chief replied. “What is your status?”
“We have just entered visual range of the station.”
“I can see that,” the Vorta snipped. “What is the status of the taskforce?”
“We lost them in a bank of gases,” the First said.
“We’re they destroyed or disabled?” He asked, with hope.
“I do not know,” the Jem’Hadar answered through.
“Very well,” Sarkos sighed. “What happened at Pyxis III? Why were you defeated?”
The Jem’Hadar flinched as if he had been physically struck by the questions. “We…we were compromised…betrayed.”
“What?”
“It was the Cardassians, they were in league with the traitor Damar,” Yak’Tazon spat, wishing he had his hands around Gul Ruder’s thick neck. “You must place all Cardassians onboard in custody and began system sweeps for sabotage.”
“Oh…Founders,” Sarkos breathed. “It… it might be too late.” The sound of disruptor fire filled the shipboard speakers, shorting out the link. The Jem’Hadar commander roared.
“First Yak’Tazon!” The Second ventured. “A Cardassian vessel has disembarked from the station and is on an intercept course.”
“Transmit power to weapons and forward shields,” he quickly ordered. Unfortunately Yak’Tazon had had to previously divert power to shields and structural integrity to prevent the cosmic gases from eating through the hull. Even now pieces of the battle cruiser trailed behind them.
“But what if they are not traitors?” The Third asked. Yak’Tazon turned on the callow Alpha. The Alpha Quadrant bred Jem’Hadar were known for their independence and their arrogance. Yak’Tazon had been created in the Gamma Quadrant and he had learned the importance of obedience the hard way. He longed to be back among his true brethren again.
“As of this moment, all Cardassians are to be considered traitors and dealt with accordingly. If future evidence proves otherwise, they still died for the Dominion.”
“Yes sir,” the Third nodded, and resumed his duties. “Weapons are fully charged.”
“Incoming,” the Second said.
Yak’Tazon squinted as his virtual display flared brightly, the sensors overwhelmed by the onrushing tide of energy. He yanked the headset off and threw it on the ground.
“Fire,” he yelled, seconds before the volley slammed into the ship. He was wrenched from the deck and hurled across the bridge. He smashed into flesh, armor, and metal. He felt hands tugging on him, and his back arched in a spasm of agony. He flipped open his eyelids and saw concerned soldiers bending over him. He pushed back them at the hands.
“Don’t concern yourself with me, return to your stations. Your stations!” He wrestled out of their grasp, the movements sending rivers of pain across his body. The soldiers set him down gently and rushed back to their stations.
He struggled to sit up, pain lancing his back. He tried to inspect his body to gauge his condition and the extent of his injuries, but each movement produced greater agony. The First was too proud to call for assistance, especially after he had rejected it. Staring uselessly at the ceiling while the sounds of battle were all around him, made Yak’Tazon attempt to sit up again. He bit back the pain, surprised that the ketracel white coursing through his veins hadn’t lessened it. His body shook, and sweat poured down his face, but he sat upright, supported by two shaking arms.
He chanced reaching out for the virtual headset. He slid it back on. As soon as the Jem’Hadar did, he wished he hadn’t. The Cardassian vessel carving into them had been joined by the Allied Taskforce. In typical fashion, the Son’a had run away, leaving the array’s defense up to a few Jem’Hadar ships and its own meager defenses. So how, the First was certain that the Founders would make possible their triumph. “Victory is life,” Yak’Tazon muttered. More loudly, he called, “We fight to the last man and let the final battle be joined!”
***************************************************************
Hazred Array
Control Center
“Perhaps I should come back at another time?” Erik Rydell asked, seconds after he had jumped and rolled through the threshold, coming up, his pilfered firearm aimed in front of him. During his roll he had been surprised that he hadn’t been vaporized or bayoneted, and when he had completed the roll and was on one knee, he saw why. Cardassian soldiers either stood over dead Jem’Hadar, or held their former compatriots at bay. The room was filled with the aroma of burned ozone, fried circuits, and singed flesh. Rydell had never been happier to see spoonheads more in his life. He glanced over and saw that the Cardies had herded Sarkos, Dr. Nahn, and Melcia-thankfully-into a corner. He smirked at the Orion, but she didn’t return the gesture.
“Lower your weapon human,” A sinewy, one-eyed Cardassian, a gil’s rank, adorning his breastplate barked. Erik looked back at Melcia. She tersely nodded for him to comply. Rydell reluctantly agreed. “You can stand,” the Cardassian offered.
Erik complied, also reluctantly. He bunched his muscles, ready for action. “What’s happening here?”
“Something that should’ve happened a long time ago,” A female Cardassian said, prompting a groan from One-Eye. “The Cardassian people are rising up against the Dominion.”
“About damn time,” Rydell muttered, drawing angry looks from around the room.
“Enough speeches,” One-Eye said. He turned to Rydell. “You should join the rest of the voles attempting to flee the station…before we destroy it.”
“So, you’re just going to leave us to die out here? I thought we were allies now?”
One-Eye chuckled, but the sprightly female spoke up again, “Perhaps it is best to save as many of the Federation-members at least, as possible. A sign of good intentions, perhaps?”
Another Cardassian, younger and more thickset said, “We don’t need the help of a mongrel alliance to extract the Dominion from our Union. We are Cardassians, and we can do it alone, go it alone.” He was one of the soldiers standing guard over Melcia.
“Feh, the impetuousness of youth,” the woman remarked.
“Pilon, Hakol,” he sighed. “How many times must I hear this debate?” He glared at both the man and the woman. “Just mate and get it over with already.” Several Cardassians laughed at their commander’s suggestion. Both Silon and Hakol, Erik wasn’t sure which was which, both looked ashen at the idea. Even though for a Cardassian, the female wasn’t too hard on the eyes, Rydell thought.
“I’ve already given you your one warning human,” One-Eye turned back to Rydell.
“I’m not leaving…without Melcia,” Erik said. The eyebrow over the Cardassian’s remaining eye arched upward.
“The Orion,” Rydell clarified.
“Out of the question,” Dr. Nahn said, grabbing hold of Melcia.
“Prisoners don’t make demands,” the thickset Cardassian said.
“Enough insubordination Hakol,” One-Eye snapped. Hakol quickly relented.
“My apologies Gil Rogad.”
“No,” Rogad said. “The prisoners stay with us. The…intelligence we can glean from them will help our rebellion.”
“Yeah, right,” Erik grunted. He had seen the salacious gleam in too many men’s eyes to not know exactly what Rogad had in store for Melcia. “I’m not going to allow Melcia to become a comfort woman.” His finger twitched on the trigger of his firearm. Rogad’s eye widened.
“Drop your weapon,” Rogad ordered.
“Not going to happen,” Erik said, aiming the weapon squarely at the gil.
“Stop making a fool of yourself,” Melcia admonished, “I don’t want you dying for me. I can take care of myself.”
“You don’t know Cardassians like I do,” Rydell said, “I know what they are capable of.”
“You have no clue,” Rogad sneered. “This is your last warning.” Out of the corner of his eye, Erik saw Cardassian soldiers turning towards him, and the click and whine of activated weapons. Oh shit, he thought, but he wasn’t going to back down now. Rydell was going to call Rogad’s bluff and hoped he had at least a glimmer of a chance of walking away from this alive, and with Melcia.
Erik gritted his teeth, and set his jaw, steeling himself for disintegration. “No,” he simply declared.
“Ah damn it, stop this Rogad,” Melcia broke from the Trill’s embrace and stepped forward. She scowled at Erik. “Why did you have to ruin it?” She charged.
“Ruin what?”
“And why did you have to be so damn noble and self-sacrificing that I can’t just let Rogad kill you outright?”
“Actually, you could,” The gil offered.
“Not the time,” Melcia huffed.
Erik looked from Rogad to Melcia, clearly confused and thrown for a lump by the abrupt change in the power dynamics. He took a quick inventory of the room. Sarkos and Nahn shared his puzzlement, as did Pilon and several other Cardassian soldiers. The few remaining Jem’Hadar looked too sickly to even care, if they noticed at all. Their coloring had taken on a pale grayish pallor, a death hue. “What’s going on here?”
“I’m a member of the Orion Syndicate,” Melcia said, matter-of-factly.
“I knew that already,” Erik shrugged, “So, what’s the big deal.”
“No,” the Orion shook her head, her raven locks falling like rain down her shoulders, “I’m a high-level member of the Syndicate. I allowed myself to be captured by the Dominion, so I could get close to Dr. Nahn.”
“What?” Both Erik and the Trill gasped at the same time.
Melcia smiled, “The Syndicate knew about the Son’a’s side dealing with the Dominion even while they were working with the Federation. We actually admired them for hedging their bets. We didn’t put much stock in the Trill or his wormhole theories, until the construction of this station. So, I had to get inside to observe and confirm that Nahn’s research was legitimate.”
“But how did you know you were going to be placed on this project?” Erik wanted to scratch his head, but he realized any false move might get him crisped.
“That’s where Rogad, or should I say, his boss, comes in,” the Orion smiled.
“Boss?” Pilon asked, her eyes hooding. “I don’t understand.”
“Gul Rejak,” Melcia flashed the woman a smile and a wink. “Both the good gul and the Syndicate understand how much money we could make selling wormhole technology.”
“But…what about the revolution, the liberation of our people?” Pilon asked, dejected.
“This is the best way to secure our future,” Hakol countered, “With this technology, no one can threaten us again. We can become the top power in the Alpha Quadrant still…without the Dominion.”
“Damn son you’re just as naïve as Pilon, or me,” Erik offered. “Rejak is a slimy customer and if your gil is wrapped up with him, the Cardassian people won’t receive one red cent from this technology. Rejak will sell it to the highest bidder.”
“That’s not true, it can’t be true,” Pilon begged Rogad, “Can it?”
“Why did you open your mouth?” Rogad rounded on Melcia.
The Orion shrugged, “He’ll be dead soon, and besides we need to know who we can trust from now on, now that Dr. Nahn and his brain are ours. Everyone now has a simple choice to make.”
“Could you rewind to the dead soon part?” Rydell asked.
“Shut up,” Rogad snarled before looking at the other soldiers. “So, are you in or out?” Quiet grumbles filled the room as many Cardassians struggled among themselves or within themselves. Though he only had a few minutes at best left to live, Erik found the internal and external debates fascinating to watch.
“I-I want let our fate be decided in this manner!” Sarkos shrieked above the growing din. He shoved Hakol and leapt for the console nearest him, slamming a large, translucent button, before Hakol tackled him to the ground. The lighting dimmed and the deck plates trembled beneath Erik, and the Cardassian chatter ceased immediately.
“What just happened?” Rogad yelled. He stomped over to the Trill, threw Hokal off him and lifted the man roughly by his lapels. “What did you just do?” Behind the two men, Rydell saw the button flashing green and then turning a bright, blood red.
The magneton pulse, Rydell quickly realized. “He’s activated the pulse,” Erik yelled.
“It works,” Sarkos beamed, beneath a pile of Cardassians.
“No,” Dr. Nahn shook his head, his expression grim. “Something’s wrong. Something’s terribly wrong.” The walls rattled and an electric charge washed over the room, making Erik’s hair stand on end. It tugged at the weapon in his hand, gaining in intensity until it was able to yank it out of his grasp. It crashed against a wall, and the human ducked as the firearms and weapons carried by others were drawn to the walls, which had become magnetized. Several Jem’Hadar and Cardassians, including Hokal, were skewed by the flying weapons.
“Shut it off,” Rogad shook the Vorta, “Shut it down!”
Sarkos’s grin became wider. He glared down at the gil. “Soon we’ll the full might of the Dominion will bear down on this pitiful little quadrant and your home will be one more cinder upon the ash heap.”
“Perhaps, but you won’t be alive to see it,” Rogad sneered, his hands grasping the Vorta’s neck. He snapped it before anyone could react, the crack sounding even above the rising static.
“That was unwise,” Melcia rushed to the Cardassian’s side as he threw the dead Vorta to the floor like trash. He ignored her, stepping over Sarkos.
“Can your doctor deactivate the pulse?” He asked. The Orion looked back at Nahn. The Trill was already bent over the console, his face an impassive mask of concentration.
“I don’t know,” Melcia said, on Rogad’s heels. The Cardassian gil stopped behind the Trill, peering over him.
“Can you stop the pulse or not?” Rogad grated.
“Leave him be, let him work,” Melcia demanded, tugging at the gil’s arm. He pulled roughly away from her.
“Please don’t distract me…and don’t touch her again…ever,” Nahn said, still focused on the terminal. Rydell merely watched, not sure what to do, and hating that. I hope that Ceven was smart enough to ditch me, he thought with a crazy glimmer of hope.
********************************************************************
