Dark Territory: Shadow Puppets

[DarKush]

**************************************************************
Jem’Hadar Battle Cruiser 115
Infirmary

Ousanas Dar gurgled blood. He collected a good amount of the verdant fluid in his mouth and spat a green glob of it out. “Still conscious?” Chalandra asked. She held a bloodstained scalpel aloft. “Perhaps I should slice off your ear tips. I mean, it’s not like you’ve been a real Romulan in decades.”

She hobbled toward him. Dar, stretched on an upright table, his arms and feet shackled, merely gazed at his sister, his eyes brimming with more pity than pain. He shook his head. “Oh Chal, what happened?”

She dropped the scalpel. It clattered on the floor. “Don’t you dare,” she said aghast. “Don’t you dare pity me,” she pointed a quaking finger at him. Her skin turned a pale greenish tinge as blood rushed to her face. “Don’t pretend to care now!”

“I-I never stopped,” Ousanas said quietly, “I wasn’t there. I let you down, but I never stopped loving you.”

“You bastard,” she spat. “I’m going to carve that lying tongue out of your mouth.” She declared before reaching down for the scalpel.

“I won’t stop you,” Dar said calmly. He gazed down at his bare chest. It was a mass of blood crusted incisions. In addition to the natural pain caused by incisions his sister had inserted a Cardassian agonizer into his body. When she grew bored with cutting him or burning him, she activated the agonizer which set his nerves on fire. He preferred the cutting.

She stood up, waving the scalpel. “Got it,” she crowed. She inched toward him. His ears twitched as the sounds of heavy footfalls captured both of their attention. A Jem’Hadar soldier barged into the infirmary.

“Medic,” he said, his voice a deep basso rumble. “Your presence is requested in the holding cell.”

“What for?” Chalandra asked, clearly perturbed that her torture session had been interrupted. The Jem’Hadar scowled.

“You will do as you have been told,” he replied coldly. “Without question.”

Chalandra looked back at Dar wistfully. “Until next time.”

Dar managed a retort, “Can’t…wait.”
***************************************************************

Jem’Hadar Battle Cruiser 115
Holding Cell

Thraex stood up, in the middle of the room of bodies. “Mother,” he grumbled. “Some of these creatures need medical assistance.”

“They need to be scanned first, for any toxins or diseases,” Makla’Gar, a Jem’Hadar Fourth, also occupied the room. “And then render medical aid to only the strongest. The rest…will be jettisoned.”

Chalandra waded into the room. The room was filled with captives, enough so that she couldn’t see the floor. She had to step on bodies to enter the room and despite her sadistic attitude toward Ousanas, she stepped lightly to avoid causing serious injuries. “Thraex who are these people? Where did they come from?” She glanced down again, realizing the multispecies group wore Starfleet uniforms.

“I am in command here,” Makla’Gar declared. “You will address all inquiries to me.”

“Fine,” Chalandra shrugged. “What happened?”

“We captured these prisoners during our successful first strike against the Allies,” Makla’Gar replied. “The strongest will make excellent sparring specimens.”

“And we incapacitated them with stun grenades,” Thraex said, incurring a vicious scowl from Makla’Gar. Her son smiled, revealing a row of sharpened teeth. Makla’Gar folded his arms over his broad chest, and planted his feet on an unfortunate man’s head and back, digging in his position.

“I see,” Chalandra said ignoring both men, as she pulled a tricorder out of the black leather bag slung over her shoulder. She arced it in a wide sweep. “A couple broken bones, a contusion, some burns,” she mumbled to herself, ignoring Makla’Gar’s fierce gaze. She completed her turn, and then addressed the impatient Jem’Hadar. “All of these injuries are treatable and the prisoners carry no biological agents that might prove harmful to this ship or its crew.”

“Excellent,” Makla’Gar said. “Treat the most serious. The rest, we will prepare for training at once. We have to be ready; neither the Romulans nor the Federation will allow our blow to go unanswered, and I’m looking forward to their response.”

Chalandra had put the arrogant Jem’Hadar’s comments to the back of her mind. Through the pile she spied a supine Admiral Glover, and her eyes flashed. Perhaps Dar had become immune to her torture, but the sight of his colleague under her knife might provoke the agonized wail she had been dying to hear, a sound much like the one that had been trapped in her own heart for far too long. Only then, then would she know that Ousanas could relate, that he could understand her. Only then could she forgive him.
**************************************************************

 

[CeJay]

It looked a bit as if Walker was starting to grow a backbone here but I fear that might change quickly when this new operative arrives, which I expect to be a very interesting meeting.

Very relieved to learn that those were merely stun grenades being used on the Starfleet crew. But they're clearly not out of trouble yet and neither is Samson and Dar with the Romulan's sadistic sister around. The body count, I fear, is still going to rise before all this is over

 

[Dnoth]

Dar is more forgiving than I would be.

There are so many factions involved here, I can't even count the ways this story could go.

...but I look forward to seeing where you'll take it!

 

[DarKush]

CeJay,

Walker might surprise you yet. You are right, the body count will continue to rise.

Dnoth,

Love is a powerful thing and even though Chalandra is torturing him, he's glad that she's alive and feels guilt about his role about how her life turned out.

Thanks for reading and for commenting.

************************************************************
USS Monarch
Observation Lounge

“My God,” Captain Walker muttered as he watched the holographic recreation hovering above the table. Merias III and the entire battle site had been turned into a fireball, the result of the weapon the Remans offered. The image rippled into a small blue globe.

“This is the Iconian probe,” Lt. Bakin said, a prideful glint in his eye. He sat opposite the captain, between two hulking and less gleeful Remans. Walker did his best not to clobber the gloating Reman lieutenant. How could he be proud of something that had wreaked such devastation?

“That caused that?” Lt. Torkill asked, disbelieving. A strangely silent Lt. Commander Petrov leaned forward, her own look predatory as she gazed at the hologram. Walker was certain that the woman couldn’t wait to get her hands on the probe, to see what made it tick, and to possibly unleash it on one of the Federation’s enemies, or whomever Section 31 deemed a threat. But was that necessarily a bad thing? The thought unsettled him, mainly because he wasn’t sure of his answer. There were real threats out there, eager to test the Federation in the wake of the Dominion War.

Of course it made sense to procure this weapon and to keep it from falling into the hands of a hostile regime, terrorists, or criminals. But despite its azure and simplistic beauty, the orb was covered in blood. And Walker didn’t necessarily want to get it on his hands.

But what choice did he have? Visala had already threatened to expose him to Emmanuelle, or worse. He had to do this, and on one level it was a good thing he was doing for the Federation, he told himself, even if the method was unsavory.

“Casualties?” Lt. Commander Liyange asked. “How many people died for your little demonstration?” The usually unflappable Operations officer was mortified by the Remans offer. At least someone still had a working moral compass on his ship, Walker thought.

“Negligible, but unfortunate nonetheless,” Bakin said. Liyange merely shook her head. She glanced down the table toward the captain. He shifted his gaze away from her. He couldn’t stand to see the questions in her eyes, the silent condemnation, or even worse, the loss of faith in him that he would continue to entertain this thuggery.

“You’re just going to hand this over to us?” Torkill asked, his skepticism coarsening his voice.

“No, this is…a conditional offer,” Bakin said. “We would like to exchange this weapon for a home world.”

“I have been authorized…” Walker began.

“Of our choosing,” Bakin cut in.

“That wasn’t part of the initial offer,” Walker’s anger almost made him stammer.

“We have no desire to be placed on some undeveloped backwater, forgotten, and living in a virtual prison,” Bakin stated fiercely. “We want the respect accorded to a sentient species, and your allies. A lot of Remans died protecting the Alpha Quadrant.”

“I know that,” Walker said pointedly.

“Volan IV,” Bakin said. “We want Volan IV.”

“Out of the question,” Walker said, without thinking. “The Volan system was ceded to the Cardassians under the Treaty of 2370.”

“A treaty made null and void when the Cardassians joined the Dominion,” Bakin countered.

“That treaty was never officially repealed,” Lt. Commander Liyange pointed out. The Reman lieutenant merely shrugged.

“My people shed much blood to take that planet, breaking the Dominion hold on the Badlands,” Bakin replied. “The planet has…sentimental value to us. Plus, with its rich veins of ladarium and other minerals, my people’s lifestyles won’t be too disrupted from what we had before, except this time we will work for ourselves and our new friends in the Federation, not Romulan overseers.”

Captain Walker took a breath and toned it down. “Lieutenant, I don’t have the authority to give you something that is not within the Federation’s territorial sovereignty.”

“Truly, the nascent Cardassian Republic is a vassal state,” Bakin remarked. “The Federation holds more sway there now more than the other Allied powers, especially after Romulan elements were exposed as supporting the True Way extremists. Of course, the Klingons remain despised by the Cardassian people. I’m sure it would be nothing for your President to convince the Cardassian leadership to cede a world, perhaps for additional aid. I am certain that our leadership could even work out preferable trade deals with the Cardassians to prevent any shortages of ladarium.”

Walker shook his head. This guy just wasn’t getting it. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but…”

“Let us discuss it with our superiors,” Petrov spoke up, drawing a harsh glare from the captain.

“As I was saying…” Walker snapped.

“We don’t know what is feasible, until we ask,” Petrov’s voice was sweet, but her tone steely.

“Your Chief Engineer speaks with wisdom,” Bakin said. “Please contact us after your consultation. With your permission Captain?”

His head pounding with rising anger, Walker looked at the Reman, a veil of red washing over him. “Yes,” he said, off handedly, “You may be dismissed.”

Torkill stood up as the Remans did, and moved around the table to escort the Remans out. “Everyone resume your posts…except Sofia.” Walker ignored the troubled looks and the palpable tension that filled the room as the rest of the senior staff exited the room. Liyange paused only a moment to give Sofia a regretful look.

The Operations Officer didn’t know the half of it, the captain promised.
*************************************************************

 

[CeJay]

I find myself in odd agreement with Petrov this time. The Remans request is not entirely unreasonable and shouldn't be dismissed out of hand. But I can tell Walker is not happy with her initiative at all. The problem for him is that he doesn't have nearly as much power over her as he would like.

I love the political dimension you introduced here by the Remans controversial request.

 

[Dnoth]

That makes two of us. I'd say the request is reasonable. However, it shouldn't be done at the point of a gun. Not to mention, how the Romulan government will react if the Federation cooperates with them.

 

[DarKush]

CeJay and Dnoth, thanks for reading and commenting. I don't agree with you guys though about the reasonableness of the Remans' request. I think this move could have some far reaching, unforeseen consequences as Dnoth mentioned and as this next scene hopefully points out. I really want to thank Brother Benny again for allowing me to use his characters. It's been a treat writing them. Also, thanks again to Galen for letting me borrow Zorek and the Nagasaki.

************************************************************
USS Monarch
Observation Lounge

Walker shot out of his seat as soon as the doors closed. “What the hell was that?”

“Completing our mission,” Sofia replied, not backing down. The captain slammed a fist against the unyielding polyduranide conference table. A painful shock ran up his arm as his knuckles cracked against the table. Walker stifled a cry.

Favoring the throbbing hand, he glared at her. “You were out of line!”

“No, I wasn’t,” Petrov shook her head defiantly. “And you know I wasn’t.” She dug in her heels across from him, the table separating them might as well have been a galaxy.

“Damn you woman,” Walker snapped. “I’m still the captain, and this is still my vessel!” Petrov’s expression softened, to one of pity. It galled him.

“You don’t really believe that now, do you? That’s the reason for this little outburst. Once you join the section, you give up certain freedoms in order to secure the freedoms of others. It’s a noble sacrifice and you shouldn’t discount it. I saw your silent exchange with Commander Liyange. Don’t get me wrong, Arjuna is a great person, but she’s naïve, like so many others among the officer’s corps.”

“It’s not naïve to promise something we don’t have the authority to give,” Walker huffed. The throbbing was dulling along with his anger. Now both merely seethed.

“I’m sure the section has friends among the Cardassians that can make the Volan deal happen,” Sofia smiled.

“How, with threats or bribes?” The engineer shrugged, and Walker snorted. “How does that make us any different than the Orions or the Romulans or any of our other enemies?”

“It doesn’t,” Petrov replied. “But it keeps the Federation safe and its denizens living in blissful ignorance of the deeds done in their names. A fair trade, wouldn’t you say?”

Walker shook his head. “My God, I had a list of planets that we could’ve given the Remans, no problem, but dammit, they had to pick one under Cardassian purview.”

“I know,” Petrov now cooed; the sound that once thrilled him, now disgusted Walker. He looked down, and the purpling knuckles on his stiffening hand. He was going to have to pay Zammit a visit. “I understand that it makes things complicated. I know all about how the Federation citizens protested their world being ceded to the Cardassians and how the Cardassians treated them, even before joining the Dominion. The pogroms against them after the war started, and how the Remans incurred massive casualties to free that world. Perhaps the Volanites will see the Remans as heroes, and will welcome their former liberators?”

“Or maybe they will see them as a threat, as interlopers, invaders,” Walker countered, ready to face Petrov again. “Come to leech off their mineral wealth.”

“Maybe,” Sofia shrugged again. “But we won’t know until that happens.”

“It shouldn’t happen,” Walker protested. “How can we just hand over a world, a populated world, especially under Reman threats? How neighborly is that?”

“Remember what the Remans are offering us, its’ worth more than any planet in the Badlands on either side of the border.”

“You might see it that way, and hell, deep down, after seeing that display, I am forced to agree, but the Cardassians certainly won’t,” Walker riposted. “If you think its hard now trying to convince the Cardassian militants to lay down their arms, to tell them the Federation has no imperialistic designs on their planets, how is this going to look? Us carving into their territory?”

“It looks like a victorious power claiming the spoils, something the Cardassians have once done and something many of those militants hunger to do again,” Petrov said, without sympathy. “The Remans could serve as a buffer and a check on a resurgent Cardassia. You know there are grumblings about the presumptive Premier Urlak. This move could make sure he knows that the Federation won’t play around with him.”

“Or it could give him the excuse to take a hard line stance and set back a normalization of relations,” the captain pointed out.

“When have relations ever been normal with the Cardassians?” Petrov scoffed. “No, Bakin’s request was a curveball, but one that we can work to our advantage. With your permission, I would like to contact Admiral Visala.”

Defeated, Walker said, “No…not without out me.”

“It’s a date,” Petrov said with a salacious smirk. The captain felt like vomiting. She walked around the table and placed a hand on his cheek. Her touch was as infernal as her true nature. He pulled back from her, but she moved quickly, lunging at him, and planting a searing kiss on his lips.

He barely heard the doors hiss open before tearing himself away. His face hot, his cheeks reddening, Walker turned toward the door, his breathing ragged. Commander Astar stood in the doorframe, a skeptical look on her face. “What have I missed?” She asked.
********************************************************************

 

[DarKush]

*****************************************************************
USS Nagasaki
Captain’s Ready Room

“Captain, the full internal sensor sweep has been completed,” Acting Security Chief Tassos said. Both Science Officer Telik and Lt. Skell stoically flanked him.

“What were your findings?” Captain Zorek asked, looking up from his computer screen.

“We found no biological residue consistent with Steen’s biosignature,” Telik remarked.

“Nor did we find any signs of departure,” Skell replied, causing Tassos to clear his throat slightly. Zorek honed in on the young man.

“You disagree?” Tassos looked at the older Skell before replying.

“I wouldn’t say I disagree completely, however sensors did detect activation of the onboard transporter for the Vanik twice, shortly before its departure.” If Skell had been human he would’ve frowned. That was the shuttle T’Chaya and T’Prell were on. The vessel lost somewhere in the swirl of the Scarab Nebula.

“Which could’ve just been routine systems checks,” Skell spoke up. Zorek looked to Telik but the russet haired woman didn’t appear to sway one way or the other.

“Do you have any proof, anyone to corroborate that both were routine checks?” The captain asked.

“No sir,” Skell replied. “I spoke with the remaining shuttle bay crew. Several did not survive the explosions. None of them performed either check.”

“It is possible though that T’Chaya or T’Prell did,” Zorek said, stroking his beard. He knew that T’Chaya was generally fastidious about such things, to her credit. But why two checks?

“But we can’t know for sure,” Tassos pointed out. “Neither one are here.”

“I don’t see what this minor detail has to do with catching a saboteur,” Telik finally remarked.

“A good question,” the captain said. “Please explain this line of inquiry Mr. Tassos.” Though it looked like Skell wanted to speak, Tassos did.

“Sir, it is possible that the saboteur hid himself in the Vanik’s pattern buffer as a way to escape Nagasaki.”

“Quite ingenious,” Zorek nodded.

“Quite fantastical,” Skell added.

“Well there’s one way for us to find out,” Zorek said. “Prep a shuttle.”
*******************************************************************
Imperial Romulan Warbird Avengeance
Stateroom

Commander Volok again poured over the data logs from the nearly doomed Haakona. He was impressed at how Subcommander Taris had struggled mightily to save her ship and crew from the grip of the Iconian probe. He smiled at her disgust at having to be saved by the humans, but like any good commander, she bore that humiliation in order to bring back news of a powerful weapon to the Empire.

Unfortunately the agents the Tal Shiar and military had placed among the scientists exploring the ruins of Iconia, with Federation counterparts, had not uncovered another weapon or much technology at all that could be turned to military use.

The information Haakona’s sensors had gathered of the probe had been woefully incomplete, and not as substantive as Starfleet’s. In the intervening years, even the best Romulan minds had been unable to develop a working probe, so better minds had decided to steal it from Starfleet.

Volok contacted the command deck. “Send in Lieutenant Jaron,” he ordered, switching off the logs and bringing up his project on the desktop computer. Jaron had been a mere security officer aboard the Haakona, a person with no advantages of birth or connections. However, his scant knowledge of the probe had proven invaluable in Volok devising a sensor calibration that would net it. Or so he hoped. He was still fine tuning it.

The short, broad shouldered man stepped briskly into the room. He pounded his chest before giving Volok a stiff armed salute. Volok tersely acknowledged the salute before waving the man forward. Jaron stepped around the desk and took up position behind Volok, but wisely not too close.

“Take a look at this Lieutenant,” Volok said, turning the screen toward him. “Is this algorithm correct?”

Jaron pursed his lips, his ridged brows moving up and down as he inspected it. “That algorithm is similar to the one devised by our sensor and science officers to identify the cause of what had befell the Haakona.”

“So this can identify an Iconian probe energy signal?”

Jaron nodded, “I believe so sir.”

“Believe so?”

“Yes sir,” Jaron said more confidently.

“And it can be used to track any existing probe?”

“Yes sir,” Jaron said without equivocation.

“It had better,” Volok warned. The loud gulp Jaron made was most satisfying.
*****************************************************************

 

[Dnoth]

The idea of hiding in the pattern buffer was a great idea ... and what they said too.

 

[CeJay]

Okay, I can see what you're saying about the Reman's request now. For one I didn't realize that it was already populated. It's a political powder keg and I like it.

And if that's not enough, now we have an (ingenious) enemy spy stowaway to deal with as well. It's one thing after the other here.

 

[DarKush]

Thanks again for reading and commenting.

*************************************************************
Jem’Hadar Battle Cruiser 115
Infirmary

“Chal, you don’t have to continue doing this,” Ousanas pleaded. His sister, bent over the human strapped to the bed, didn’t even look up. She wielded the bone regenerator with expert skill, repairing the man’s broken arm. The brown-skinned human winced, but didn’t cry out.

Chalandra had explained to Dar that the Romulans hadn’t felt the need to stock much anesthetic for a ship largely crewed by Remans. “I’m not listening,” she mumbled, intent on her job.

“Who are you? Where are we?” The human asked. He craned his neck, to peer at Samson and Daneeka, who were both restrained on beds beside him and then to Dar, who was still hanging from an upright table.

“Rest easy Captain,” Chalandra said as she set the regenerator aside. “You’re about to learn more than you ever wanted to.” She stepped back and motioned for the two Jem’Hadar standing by the entrance into the medical suite. One held his weapon at the ready while the other unshackled the man.

The captain tensed up as they roughly grabbed him. “Where are you taking me?” He demanded, looking around wildly, a gleam of desperation in his eyes. It lit a fire under Dar and he strained against his shackles, his stressed muscles screaming in protest. Daneeka and Samson also struggled in vain.

“Leave him alone you bastards!” Daneeka snarled.

“Let him go,” Samson demanded.

Chalandra rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I would advise you all not to waste your energy.” She turned to the Jem’Hadar, and flicked her hand toward the captain as if he were a piece of trash. “Away with him.”

The human began thrashing until he was knocked unconscious by the stock of one of the Jem’Hadar rifles. The reptilian soldiers grabbed him under his arms and dragged the man out of the room.

“You bitch,” Daneeka spat, but the spittle missed the disfigured Romulan.

“Spitting is rude, uncouth,” Chalandra said. “But what should I expect…from a carrion eating species.”

“How about you come closer and say that in my face?” Daneeka challenged, as she pulled at her restraints with renewed vigor. Dar saw the veins nearly popping free from her neck.

“Daneeka calm down,” Samson, his voice heavy with worry, advised. But the Bolian’s rage was too ascendant. A string of curses and taunts ripped from her lips at the woman.

“I’m going to have to do something about that tongue of yours,” Chalandra promised as she shuffled over to a table filled with shiny and sharp implements. She lifted a pair of medical tongs. “These should do very nicely.”

“Oh yeah, well do your worst,” Daneeka spat again.
“I intend to,” Chalandra clucked as she shambled toward her.
*************************************************************
USS Nagasaki
Main Shuttlebay

Captain Zorek walked around the Shuttlecraft Tavek, the craft that had been selected to find Commander T’Chaya and T’Prell on the Vanik.

While an engineering team had been making modifications to the shuttle, per his orders, Zorek had been reading and responding to a stream of information that poured forth from Benzar as if a dam burst, once the communications network had been reestablished. There had been a terrible accident in the Merias system, and it had pained Zorek to inform Ambassador Shanthi that the Nagasaki couldn’t help with the relief efforts.

He had carefully informed the diplomat, without going into much detail, about Nagasaki’s own tragic accident, and he told the human that Steen was indisposed without giving him why. It wasn’t a lie, but it skirted the truth enough to make the captain extremely uncomfortable. And Shanthi’s obvious skepticism and continued probing didn’t help matters.

He had actually been relieved when Starfleet Command had cut into his conversation. The captain had informed Command about what had happened, but something told him to keep his suspicions about Steen close to his vest until he had incontrovertible proof. Command had informed him that they would dispatch a ship tow Nagasaki a friendly port.

Zorek however had no intention on waiting around for them. Despite the staid protest of several senior officers, the captain had been adamant about his intention to lead the mission. On the other side of the 22nd century-style shuttle he saw the Chief Engineer waving a tricorder over the starboard side of the warp-ring drive. “Everything in order Commander L’Var?”

She glanced up at him, even her casual movements graceful. The walnut brown woman had a round face and short, gray curls. Despite being older than the captain, no lines creased her face. Just the merest hint of a smile upturned the corners of her mouth. L’Var was not v’tosh ka’tur, but she had never been much of a strict adherent of Suraktic austerity. She had achieved a comfortable balance between logic and emotion that Zorek would envy, if he allowed himself such indulgences.

“Yes sir,” L’Var informed him. “We have installed a metaphasic projection matrix and an additional EPS flow regulator to deal with the spike in energy output. Metaphasic shielding will add an extra layer of protection for whatever natural or manmade risks you might encounter inside the nebula.”

“Excellent,” Zorek said. “And the defensive upgrades?” L’Var pointed to the superstructure that had been placed on top of the shuttle.

“This weapons platform contains two Type-11 phaser cannons,” the engineer replied. “This adds the shuttle’s two extant Type-11 phasers.” Zorek nodded in approval. The small craft would pack a significant punch if they encountered any hostiles on their journey.

“You are in command until I return,” he told the woman.

“I’ll try to avoid initiating a warp core breach in your absence sir.”

“A joke?” He asked, making sure to add an appropriate note of disapproval. The engineer merely shrugged.

“A possibility, if Ambassador Shanthi…or Admiral Shanthi deign to contact us,” L’Var’s deadpan was perfect.

Zorek would’ve chuckled…if he were human. “A probability,” he dryly replied.
******************************************************************

 

[CeJay]

Sometimes it is wiser to hold one's tongue. I have a feeling Deeneka is about to learn this lesson the hard way.

Also, got to love a gung-ho Vulcan captain, deciding to lead an away mission himself. Don't come across those very often.

 

[Galen4]

Getting caught up, now! Wow, I don't know how comfortable I am with the Remans and their "deal". In fact, I think I'd be happier if no one in this story gets their hands on the Iconian probe.

Great cloak and dagger plays by everyone. I wonder how Walker is going to emerge from this fiasco after the dust settles?

And Now Zorek is jumping in with both feet. Keep it coming!

 

[Dnoth]

Here is a testimate to your writing: I almost don't want to read the next scene with Chalandra and Daneeka.

 

[DarKush]

Galen,

I wonder how Walker is going to turn out as well, perhaps much to BrotherB's consternation . But its fun figuring it all out. I would also think it would be in the galaxy's best interests if no one got the probe, but if you've read enough of my work you know I'm not the biggest fan of happy endings . After this chapter, I'm sure that CeJay's estimation of the good Captain Walker will probably drop a few more points.

Dnoth,

Thanks. I hopefully didn't make the Daneeka scene too gruesome.

And thanks everyone else for reading. Similar to Dnoth, I enjoy all the comments and it does help keep me going.

******************************************************************
USS Monarch
Observation Lounge

Commander Astar’s tears burned her cheeks. She shook her head, “No…it’s not possible, not Demetrius.”

Captain Walker leaned in close to her. He wrapped his hand within her hers. His skin was almost as hot as her tears, but the gesture was welcoming nonetheless. He could barely keep eye contact with her as he nodded sadly. His face was haggard, his hair disheveled. The man looked like he had aged years in the span of days. “I’m afraid, it is true.”

“Listen Commander…Leza, I hate that this happened, even if I was the…his target,” Petrov’s voice cracked, “But Commander Nash was working with the Romulans.” Sobs overtook her and the engineer buried her face in her hands.

The words, the charge, hit the Trill like a tidal wave. She was caught in a whirlwind of emotions, anger, confusion, guilt, shame, and fear. They all battered her with gale force. She touched her midsection, seeking comfort from the symbiont nestled within. The creature coaxed her raging emotions, keeping the primal scream building within her in check.

Astar shook her head again, unable to speak. It couldn’t be true. Nash had been investigating mysterious communiqués between Walker and Petrov, the same two people now accusing Nash of being a traitor. And Nash couldn’t defend himself…because he was dead. At Sofia’s hand. Leza still couldn’t believe that the man was gone, that she wouldn’t hear his laugh again or argue with him about the presidential election, or play tennis, his favorite pastime, in the holodeck. Now she was going to have to ask the captain to allow her to break the news to his family.

“I know…this is a lot to take in,” Walker nodded, his voice still filled with regret and sorrow. “I mean, you shared the Commander’s suspicions with me, and now he’s dead.”
“But it was all an attempt…at misdirection,” the engineer added, removing her face from her hands. Her eyes were ringed with red and her cheeks were puffy. “Captain Walker had me check Nash’s trail to see if anyone else could detect our communiqués.”

“I wanted to close any security loopholes,” the captain added quickly.

“Well, I…I found more than I bargained for,” Petrov revealed. “I discovered…a host of encoded messages, and I traced them back to Nash. It was Nash that helped the Romulans attack us.”

“That’s a frinxing lie!” Astar snapped. “Demetrius would never, ever, do that!” Memories fluttered through her mind of days playing tennis at the best courts on Alpha Centauri and nights wrapped in his strong arms, staring at the twinkling stars above Starfleet Academy grounds.

“There’s a lot of things I don’t think any of us would’ve done, could’ve done, until this damnable war,” Walker said, no rancor or sense of betrayal in his voice. Which Astar thought was odd upon the discovery that his Security Chief was in league with the Romulans who had almost destroyed the ship and murdered them all.

“Not Demetrius, he was a patriot, he loved the Fleet, he loved this crew, and you know that,” Astar shot back, her voice fraying with anger. “No, there has to be some other explanation.”

“There isn’t,” Petrov said. “I’m so sorry, really I am Leza.” Astar shot daggers at her.

“Somehow, I don’t believe you.”

“Leza,” Walker began sternly.

“There’s proof,” Sofia said quickly. “I can provide it.”

“I want to see it, now,” Astar demanded.

“Okay,” Petrov looked at Walker and the man nodded tersely.

“Please, go show her what you’ve uncovered,” the captain said. “Because I need you back here, by my side and in the right frame of mind Commander Astar.”

“Why sir?” The Trill turned back to him.

“Because I’m about to give the order to break orbit. We’re to accompany the Remans to their base and finally bring this frinxing mission to a close.”
**************************************************************
Jem’Hadar Battle Cruiser 115
Infirmary

“Stop this Chal! Stop this please!” Ousanas Dar pleaded. He had long since stopped fighting his restraints. Samson hadn’t gotten that memo. All he saw as Daneeka thrashing on the bed, blood spurting from her mouth, her death gurgles chilling his marrow.

The twisted medic Chalandra stood over her, holding the Bolian’s severed tongue between a pair of tongues. She turned the dark blue strip of flesh around, as if appraising it. “Calm down brother, she still has approximately fifteen seconds before she chokes on her own blood.”

“Save her you monster!” Samson roared. “Or so help me?”

Chalandra chuckled. “You’ll do what?” She held the tongs out, aimed at Samson’s chest. “I know about that artificial heart of yours and I’m extremely curious about Federation pulmonary circuitry.”

“Save her and you can do with me what you will,” the admiral declared. The Romulan medic shrugged.

“I can, and will do that regardless,” She said.

“Chal, please, don’t…don’t become this…don’t let what I did, turn you into this,” Dar’s begged, between ragged sobs.

“So, you finally understand, how you are the cause of this?”

The broken elder Romulan nodded. “It…it’s all my fault.”

“Yes,” Chalandra hissed. “She flipped a switch on the side of the bed and it rose quickly. Daneeka angled her head down and spit out gobs of blood, much of the azure fluid splashing against her ragged tunic. The doctor applied a hypo to her neck and the Bolian sagged forward more. The Romulan placed the tongue in a dish. “I’ll reattach it later, after she’s learned her lesson. Besides, I would hate to lose a prime test subject. In the meantime, doesn’t the silence sound wonderful?”
**************************************************************

Jem’Hadar Battle Cruiser 115
Holding Cell

The Remans threw him roughly back into the cell. Captain Emil Bouchet hurt everywhere. There was ripped skin, oozing blood, and bruises across his body. His general disorientation since being whisked from the Shuttlesworth had never abated.

Even now he was certain his shock matched the fearful eyes of his equally shell shocked crew. Several of his surviving bridge officers seemed responsive enough. Unfortunately some, like Lt. Shakingbush, had already been exposed to Jem’Hadar and Reman hospitality. And others were huddled in the cell’s darkened corners, clutching, talking to themselves, or balled into fetal positions. “Captain, where are we? Why have they captured us?” Lt. Eppard asked, dark smudges and tiny welts marring her alabaster features.

“I’m…I’m certain,” Bouchet said, as he tried to grasp on to snatches of the conversations the Remans and Jem’Hadar had among themselves while he saw to avoid the Jem’Hadar gladiator seeking to skewer him. Bouchet was fortunate that the Jem’Hadar and Remans interspersed their talk with Cardassian and Romulan phrases, respectively. He had just enough knowledge of each language to piece together some of what they were saying. And it hadn’t portended to something good.

“They were…talking about some weapon,” he revealed.

“The thing unleashed on the battle site?” Lt. Shakingbush asked, favoring his right arm. Bouchet looked kindly on the younger man. A large, walnut shaped lump grew out of his forehead, hanging over his left eye. The other side of his face was marked with a deep purple bruise. He had been the sport while the captain’s injuries had been mended by the medic.

Once he had been removed from the medical bay, Bouchet had been dragged to the makeshift arena in a cargo bay. A circle of Jem’Hadar and Remans had been cheering and taunting both Shakingbush and the Reman he had been fighting.

Bouchet’s heart had been warmed to have seen that the Reman looked worse than his Tactical Officer. Their captors hadn’t been as pleased, with the Reman. He had been beaten mercilessly by them before Shakingbush had been sent back to the holding cell and the captain had been tossed into the center of the circle.

He hadn’t fared as well as Shakingbush, though he suspected their jailers had gone easier on him. His pips had identified him as the ship’s commanding officer. They had wanted to soften him up for the interrogation that was sure to come.

“There was also something else…about a space station,” Bouchet wrinkled his brow as he tried to remember the name, but couldn’t. It had been almost too taxing just to recall the memory. His knees buckled as he crew ran to his side to support them. Normally he would’ve waved them away, but this time he decided not to eschew their help or their concern.

“They’re taking us to this base of theirs, I bet,” Eppard replied. “They’ll be no way for Starfleet to find us.”

“Don’t lose hope,” Shakingbush was reproachful. “Sir,” he added quickly. Eppard just nodded and tried in vain to wipe the grime and dried blood off her face.

“Where about the others?” Sibeko asked.

“What others?” Eppard questioned the Saurian.

“The prisoners that were here, right before we were beamed in,” Bouchet explained. “The last I saw of them they were in the infirmary.”

“With that butcher posing as a doctor?” Eppard shivered. The shakes were contagious.

“God help them,” the captain intoned.
********************************************************

 

[Dnoth]

I know I shouldn't, but I am currently wishing very ill things upon Chalandra.

 

[admiralelm11]

I like what I see so far. Of course, I might have to go back and re-read the earlier chapters but good job. Keep it up.

 

[CeJay]

Did I mention yet how Petrov and Walker are not my favorite people in the world? They are stooping lower and lower.

And things on the Jem'Hadar ship are just getting worse and worse.

 

[BrotherBenny]

DarKush, you are giving me a headache on working out how to redeem Walker.

 

[admiralelm11]

The events with Walker almost remind me of how Picard fell in the 'A Time to...' book series. I hope he's sees some redemption soon because overall, I think he makes a good captain, just misguided at the moment.