The Star Eagle Adventures III: Cry Havoc

Re: Chapter XIX - Sacrifice

Nora Laas was no stranger to pain. In her fighting years on Bajor and as a Marine after joining Starfleet her body had become quiet used to enduring high levels of punishments and her pain threshold had adapted steadily.

But it wasn’t really the decrepit physical state of her body which didn’t allow her to simply lie down and give up. It was her mind which refused to permit it. Not now. She had finally found the person responsible for everything that had happened today and in some twisted way it was exactly who she had suspected all along. Except of course it wasn’t really. The distinction was irrelevant at the moment – an inconvenient detail which could be debated over at some other time. All that mattered now was that she would see this through. Kill Monroe, no matter what.

She tried to push Santesh-Yardo’s body which kept her pinned to the wall away from her with no success. His body – alive or dead, she couldn’t tell – was too heavy and she could not muster the strength.

When all her attempts failed she instead attempted to squeeze herself out of her trap. She could feel her cracked ribcage shooting fiery hot pain through her body but pushed on regardless. She managed to free an arm and stretched it out in front of her to find some purchase. She found an external conduit and used it to pull herself out, inch by inch until she managed to free her other arm.

The Grazerite stirred slightly once she had freed herself completely. He was still alive. She didn’t have the time to help him however. The sight that greeted her forced her into action.

Like an impossibly twisted alien octopus with dozens of tentacles, the shapeshifter held most of her comrades tightly by their necks at least three feet off the floor. It didn’t matter if they were far or near, the tentacles extended all over the room like a massive spider-web. The changeling had kept Monroe’s head as well as her legs but everything in between was a strangely formless mass now out of which the many tentacles branched off. It had stepped closer to the center of the large room, content for now to watch its constraint prey struggle futilely in its grasp.

The creature was not paying any attention to Nora who had managed to get onto her hands and knees.

Her phaser rifle was just a few feet away.

“You solids will never understand,” the Monroe impersonator said slowly, “You continue to plot and plan against us but you will never succeed. You will be conquered and become part of the Dominion,” it said, directing her words towards Owens who did his best to ignore the shapeshifter.

Nora had nearly reached her weapon. She moved slowly as not to be detected by the changeling.

“Your efforts to stop the inevitable are pathetic,” it continued. “You should be thankful. Without order you are destined to destroy yourselves. From what I have seen over the last few days how could anyone disagree with that assessment?”

Her fingertips were nearly touching the handle.

Santesh-Yardo moaned loudly as he was coming around.

The shapeshifter turned its head effortlessly almost one-hundred eighty degrees, instantly spotting the Grazerite scientist trying to stand. It ignored him. Instead the creature focused on Nora who had suddenly frozen, her hand practically hovering over the phaser rifle on the ground. A wicked smile came onto Monroe’s face.

The security officer picked up the weapon in one swift motion, bringing it up and wasting not another second to fire.

The changeling did not avoid the incoming phaser blast. At least not in the traditional sense. Instead a gaping hole emerged in the exact spot where the beam had been targeted at, allowing it to harmlessly pass through the changeling’s body.

Nora didn’t get off another shot. One of the tentacles leashed out, wrapped itself around the phaser rifle and ripped it out of her hands. It went flying across the room.

The form changer stepped closer to the Bajoran who had made it back onto her feet by now. “You are quite an irritating creature,” it said.

Nora gritted her teeth. She was unarmed and quite literally with her back against the wall now. She knew she didn’t stand a chance against the changeling but she was determined not to back down. She would stand her ground. “You can kill me, you can kill us all but I promise you one of these days we’ll find a way to destroy you and we won’t hesitate to rid the cosmos of you and all your slimy friends.”

A small smile formed on Monroe’s fake lips. “Defiant until the bitter end,” it said. “And so emotional. It is your greatest weakness, can’t you see that?”

“All I can see,” Nora shot back, “is a pathetic freak of nature so afraid of the rest of the galaxy that it has declared war on it.”

The tentacle shot out again, this time hitting Nora in the face, slapping her hard to the ground. Nora recovered quickly, getting back onto her knees and wiping the blood off her mouth with the back of her hand. She threw the changeling a self-satisfied grin. “Now who’s getting emotional?”

Unperturbed the changeling continued to close its distance to the rebellious Bajoran, effortlessly maintaining the other appendages as it walked. Another whack with the thick tentacle sent the security officer backwards and against the wall. “Interesting, I have never understood the solid’s perverse obsession with causing physical harm to each other,” it said and hit Nora again just as she tried to get back onto her feet. “Not until now.”

Blood was now streaming out of a number of cuts on the Bajoran’s face and the urge to simply remain lying on the ground was overwhelming. That was until she spotted Santesh-Yardo. Unnoticed by the changeling he had begun to crawl away from them. At first it seemed as if he was merely trying to find some place of relative safety. But at second glance she realized that he was heading straight for the small upturned cart lying in the middle of the room. Numerous hypos and containers were littered all around it.

Nora attempted to stand again. “It’s apparent that you are new to the idea,” she said with some effort and spat blood. “You’re doing a terribly poor job at it.”

The tentacle wrapped itself around her throat and dragged her up along the wall until she hovered above the floor. This time the changeling was not satisfied to simply restrain its victim however. It watched curiously as it added more and more pressure on its appendage, slowly cutting off Nora’s air supply.

“It is curious,” it said in a genuine tone of interest. “There are so many ways to kill a solid. I wonder which one is most painful.”

Against her will Nora reached out for the tentacle around her neck, trying to pull it away and freeing her windpipe. She could not longer control her legs which were beginning to move and twitch on their own accord.

“You simply must tell me how this feels,” the shape shifter said with the inquisitiveness of a scientist study a test subject. “Are you experiencing pain?”

Nora eyes caught a glimpse of the Grazerite who was now holding a hypo spray in his trembling hands. But he seemed uncertain what to do with it. His hesitation was going to cost Nora her life. “Doctor!” she managed to shout. In an impressive display of willpower she used on of her arms towards Santesh, imploring him to toss her the hypo.

The changeling seemed momentarily perplexed by this. Monroe’s head turned and spotted the scientist holding the vaccine. Apparently it had forgotten about it and suddenly panicked. The tentacle holding Nora withdrew, dropping her unceremoniously back onto the floor. The appendage shot out towards Santesh-Yardo, transforming into a razor-sharp spike as it drew closer. The Grazerite had nowhere to go. The spike tore through him at the exact same moment as he hurled the vaccine out of his hand. The sudden impact pushed him back violently and the hypo went tumbling through the air.

Time appeared to have slowed as the changeling’s eyes followed the deadly potion flying across the room.

Not wanting to take any chances the shapeshifter released two more of its tentacles to shoot out after the tiny injector. But in doing so it also dislodged both Leva and Deen.

All three appendages converged on the spot the hypo landed at the exact same time but none managed to hold on to it. Instead it was pushed further along the slippery floor and towards where the freed Deen was now lying.

She saw her chance. Like an athlete going after the ball she lurched towards the small device coming her way.

The changeling reacted instantly, wrapping a tentacle across her ankle and yanking her backwards and away from the hypo. Deen yelped helplessly as she was jerked away, squashing any chance for her to get to the vaccine.

So’Dan Leva had reacted even faster than the young Tenarian. He was out of position, having been released at the opposite end of the room but that hadn’t stopped him to make a run for it. He sprinted across the hall, his loud footfalls echoing through the chamber.

Monroe’s head twisted slightly to focus on the approaching Romulan. It sent out a tentacle to intercept but Leva was in full sprint now and just meters away from his target. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the glistering spike flying towards him. At full speed he jumped forward, diving underneath the pointed tentacle – making it miss by less than an inch – and slid across the floor on his stomach and right towards the hypo.

He was too fast. Instead of holding on to the device he pushed it away from him and watched in frustration as it skimmed towards the far wall and right in front of Nora Laas.

She looked at it curiously for a second as if not sure if it was real or not. Then she reached out for it and pulled herself up against the wall.

The changeling watched her carefully from just a few meters away but made no sudden movements. Instead it slowly brought up the tentacle, keeping it in a hover just inches from its main body. The appendage began to morph into something resembling a spiked mace, then turned into triple-bladed sword and finally into a massively heavy hammer only to finally change back into its original form.

Nora watched the demonstration unimpressed. She took a wobbly step away from the wall and towards the changeling, the hand holding the hypo-spray now hidden behind her back.

“You cannot possibly hope to defeat me,” the changeling said. “You can hardly walk.”

Nora didn’t reply. She took another step forward, this one slightly less awkward.

“Time to end this, wouldn’t you agree?” it said and shot out the tentacle towards Nora. Once again it transformed into a pointed spike, once again it would easily penetrate her body as it had done before.

Nora made no attempt to jump out of the way.

The changeling’s smile widened.

Then suddenly, as the appendage was just a heartbeat away from tearing into Nora’s flesh, she performed a quick sidestep. The lance tore through the side of her uniform and grazed the skin underneath but failed to impale her.

With her free hand she grabbed the tentacle as if a robe and pulled it towards her with such surprising strength that the changeling lost its balance for a short moment. It was all the time she needed.

“You simply must tell me how this feels,” Nora said and without ever taking her eyes off the shapeshifter, brought up the hypo spray and pressed it against the appendage, emptying its entire contents into the changeling’s system.

Monroe’s eyes opened wide. An inhuman scream came out of her mouth while it retracted all tentacles simultaneously to merge back into its main body. The changeling fell onto its knees, the human face distorted into a mask of agony.

Seemingly against its will its entire body changed back into the form of Shelby Monroe. But it could only maintain the shape for a few seconds before it morphed again this time to take the appearance of the late Germaine McAllister. It became Captain Zalak followed by Xylion and then at increasing speed went through a number of other forms it had taken on over the many, many years of its existence. Another human or two, a Klingon, a Cardassian, a Vorta, a number of races neither Nora nor anyone else had ever seen, animals, both small and large and even lifeless objects were among the formations it went through. All this was accompanied by a powerful screeching scream more reminiscent of a piece of machinery being crushed than anything a sentient creature would be able to produce. Finally it gave up on trying to resemble any kind of form and it collapsed into a shapeless brown goo. The ear-deafening cry came to an end as the liquid turned a darker shade of grey. It bubbled slightly but did no longer appear to be anything more than a puddle of mud.

Nora dropped the hypo and found a phaser rifle lying on the floor. She picked it up and slowly stepped towards the remains of the once powerful shapeshifter. Her steps were careful but determined. Nothing would stop her from what she had set out to do.

She looked down curiously at the bubbly goo by her feet. “Are you experiencing pain?”

Nora Laas pointing her phaser rifle straight at its center and fired. The beam disintegrated the remains instantly, leaving behind nothing but a large dark stain and a repulsive smell.



***************************************************************



Once Owens had been released his first concern was to tend towards Jana Tren who had landed on the floor just a few feet away from him. He was relieved to find her unharmed and helped her back on her feet. “Are you alright?” he asked.

She nodded slowly, never taking her eyes off his.

He could see – sense even – that there was much she wanted to say to him. And there was much he wanted to tell her but they both knew that this was neither the time nor the place for it.

The captain forced himself away from Tren to approach his battered security chief. Hopkins and Leva had already converged on her.

“Lieutenant,” Owens said as he came closer. He quickly inspected all that remained of the shapeshifter before focusing on Laas. She managed to stand on her own but there was little doubt that she had taken the worst punishment. Her face was scratched and bloody and most of her earlier wounds had reopened. Owens couldn’t help but marvel at her resilience. That her body still functioned after all that she had been through bordered on a miracle. And yet there she stood, still hovering over the dark patch on the floor which only moments ago had been their nemesis. Still clinging to her phaser rifle as if the changeling might make a comeback at any second.

The captain looked at Hopkins. “Go get a medkit.”

She nodded and without hesitation headed for the infirmary.

“Laas,” Owens said softly and put a hand on her arm. “It’s alright, you did it. You killed the changeling.”

She lowered her weapon only very reluctantly and then locked eyes with Owens. For the first time he could see the tears welling up in her eyes. She nodded.

“Sir.”

Owens turned to see Xylion standing over the body of the Grazerite scientist. “Doctor Santesh-Yardo did not survive.”

“Any other casualties, Commander?”

“No.”

Owens looked back at the dead body of the lead scientists. The implications of his death were sinking in slowly. But once they finally had he realized what predicament it presented. The relief he had felt over the demise of the changeling was quickly replaced by the realization that they still had to deal with an army of Jem’Hadar soldiers between them and freedom. And Santesh-Yardo, the man who had volunteered to operate Archangel in order to rid them of that last obstacle was now dead.

Deen stepped up next to the captain, easily reading his thoughts. “If those Jem’Hadar were not on their way before they sure will be now,” she said.

Owens turned away to face the super weapon which had become their only way out of this nightmare. The massive black machine stood there quietly still waiting for its big moment to come. Except there was nobody left to operate it. Or so it seemed.

“Jana!”

The Federation agent was walking determinedly towards the main control console attached directly to the device.

“What are you doing?” he asked while he began to follow her.

She stepped passed the transparent aluminum partition which surrounded the entire device and turned around to face him.

A terrible thought was beginning to form in Michael Owens’ gut. It gripped him with terror and he began to move faster. He prayed he wasn’t right.

Owens was just a few feet away from her when she reached out for a control panel which caused the transparent partition in front of her to slide shut.

“No!”

“Michael, I need to do this.”

He reached the partition a moment after and immediately tried to push it open but the solid material refused to even budge. “Open this door, Jana!” he said so forcefully that it left no doubts that it hadn’t been a request.

“I’m sorry I can’t do that. We both know we’re out of time. The only chance you have is for me to get this damned thing turned on and keep it running long enough for you to get out.”

“You’re no scientist.”

“I practically helped design this,” she said. “I might not be able to give you as much time as Santesh would have but it should be enough for you to get to the surface.”

Owens shook his head. He was not going to allow this. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have an alternative to offer or that he was playing favorites by refusing to leave Tren behind. All that mattered to him know was that they would make it out alive. Both of them.

She placed her palm against the transparent surface. “I’m sorry Michael but it’s the only way,” she said and gave him a weak smile. “Let’s face it; it wouldn’t have worked out between us anyway. All we do is fight.”

He knew instantly that she was lying. He put his own palm against the door, the solid material between them not allowing him to feel her touch.

“Goodbye, Mike,” she nearly whispered and then turned around and approached Archangel.

“Goddamnit, Jana, don’t do this!” he yelled and began pounding the partition.

She ignored him as she began to enter commands into the console.

Owens watched helplessly as the pulsating red lights running along the machine increased in brightness and intensity. Archangel was powering up for its first and final display of its tremendous destructive force.

When Tren spoke again she didn’t turn away from the console. “I figure it will be at full power in about thirty seconds. After that I will not be able to shut it down again. I hope I can keep the power levels under control for about twenty minutes. After that …” she didn’t finish the sentence.

Eagle’s captain had found his phaser rifle and was now pointing it at the partition. His hands trembled slightly as he considered burning himself through the sheer wall in front of him. He knew he would risk killing her or possibly – if he hit Archangel – killing them all.

Loud warning klaxons began blaring throughout the room. “Warning, system overload detected. Immediate shut down recommended,” the feminine computer voice announced in an irritatingly tranquil sounding voice.

“Jana!” Owens shouted over the noise of the sirens.

She turned slowly. “It’s too late,” she said sadly. “You have to go!”

With the fury of a man possessed he smashed his fist into the partition, ignoring the pain shooting through his bruised knuckles. The door hardly moved at all.

“Sir,” Xylion said as he stepped up behind him. “Ms Tren is correct. The longer we remain in close proximity to Archangel now the smaller our chances of escape.”

The machine above them was now beginning to hum loudly as it was beginning to create its devastating energy waves which were being radiated into every direction. They would traverse through walls and rock and everything else. They would be unstoppable.

Owens nodded slowly but didn’t take his eyes off Tren who now simply stood there, staring back at him.

Xylion turned to the Starfleet officers who had begun to assemble. “We have little time,” he said, now taking the initiative. “Take your weapons and move out. Starfleet personnel will take point, civilians will maintain three meters distance at all times.”

Leva and D’Karr were the first ones to react, quickly getting the remaining scientists to line up for a quick departure. Within only a few moments everyone except for Owens had taken up formation.

When Deen noticed that Owens was not moving she stepped out of line and approached him. “Michael?”

“Commander,” the captain said without facing the Vulcan. “Move out.”

The Vulcan nodded and gave the signal for the twenty-five survivors of Epsilon Twelve to head into the mines. Within moments only Owens and Deen remained.

“Go!” Tren urged.

“I’ll be back for you,” Owens said through clenched teeth.

She nodded slowly.

Then he quickly turned away and he and Deen stepped through the gaping hole in the wall to follow the rest of the survivors.

Jana Tren wiped a single tear from her face. “I love you.”


------------------------
Stay tuned for Chapter XX: Havoc

 

Re: Chapter XIX - Sacrifice

You have really brought out the best in the Eagle's crew in this story. They're going through so much pain and heartache--and the war has just begun. By the time this war ends, no one on that ship is going to be the same.

 

Chapter XX - Havoc

Chapter XX – Havoc


He didn’t know why but First Teleka’clan found it increasingly difficult to concentrate as if something was physically tearing at his brain and refusing to let go. It had begun with nothing more than a slight headache but had quickly become a stinging and non-ignorable pain.

It had taken the Jem’Hadar leader considerable time to reassemble his troops after they had begun to try and hunt down the elusive enemy that had attacked them earlier. Now about thirty of his best men stood with him in the large cavern which had become their command center.

He could see that all of them were suffering from exactly the same condition. Some managed to hide it better than others but it was unmistakable, they were all feeling the influence of whatever was affecting him and it was getting worse by the second.

The Vorta seemed to be distracted as well. But his discomforted didn’t seem to be physical. He had seemed extremely concerned ever since they had heard that strange sound – a scream perhaps – a few minutes earlier. Of course Wegnour had not shared his worries with the men.

“That sound,” the Jem’Hadar began, finding it suddenly very difficult to speak. “What was it?”

The pacing Vorta froze and looked at the solider. “You mustn’t concern yourself with that. Are your men ready?”

‘Clan nodded. “I have four units in position to attack the base at your command.”

“Good, we have to move fast.”

“It sounded like a scream,” Teleka’clan said absentmindedly.

“You need to focus on the attack!” the Vorta nearly shouted. “Focus on the attack! Nothing else matters,” his voice revealed the sudden insecurity that had overcome him. His entire body language had changed. It was less certain, less arrogant almost as if defeat had suddenly become a very distinct possibility.

The Jem’Hadar leader flinched as the pain increased and spread throughout his body. The stinging sensation in his head was quickly becoming unbearable. He began to push the lower part of his palm against his forehead, desperately trying to alleviate the building pressure there.

“What is wrong?” the Vorta asked, only now realizing that all the soldiers around him were displaying similar symptoms.

“Something,” Clan’ began slowly, “is affecting us.” Driblets of blood trickled out of his nose as he spoke. He looked down on the ground where the drops had landed as if he had never seen his own blood before. Then, very slowly he met Wegnour’s gaze. “What is happening to us? What was that noise?”

There was no doubt about it. There was fear in the Vorta’s eyes now. Panic even. He took a few steps back. “I command you to attack now,” he said, trying to put as much authority in his voice as he could muster. “Commit all available men for a frontal assault.”

Instead of following the order the Jem’Hadar took a step towards the Vorta. “You know what is happening here.”

“Who do you think you are?” Wegnour shot back, his anger not quite matching his dread. “You are nothing but an instrument of the Dominion. My instrument! You will do as I say at any time and under any circumstance,” he stopped himself when his back touched the wall behind him. “I have given you a direct command.”

“You will tell me,” ‘Clan said, having difficulties with every word he spoke.

“In the name of the Founders you will –“

The First reached out for the slender Vorta’s throat, easily lifting him off the ground with one hand.

“Let me go you animal!” he managed to croak.

“Tell me!” he shouted from the top of his lungs and then threw him away not unlike a broken and useless puppet.

Wegnour’s body flew through the air only to slam into a bank of computer consoles. They shattered under the impact and he dropped to the rough floor. “You will pay for this insolence,” he managed to say in between gasps as he tried to stand. “Kill him!” he ordered the closest Jem’Hadar.

The young warrior seemed distracted and hesitated. He slowly approached and raised his rifle.

Teleka’clan was faster to reach for his own weapon and shot the Jem’Hadar without even giving him another look. He then pointed the weapon at the Vorta. “That is the second good man you forced me to kill,” he said and connected the butt of his rifle with the Vorta’s head. “You’ll be next.”

Wegnour fell back onto the floor, a gushing wound on his temple now coating his face with blood.

“What is happening to us?” Teleka’clan repeated with less effort this time. The adrenaline building up in his system giving him newly found strength. “Tell me and I will reconsider tearing every limp off your body. Tell me and I will allow you a quick death.”

The injured Vorta shot him a glance filled with venom. He managed a small, vicious smile as he spoke. “There is a Founder here, you imbecile. He will learn about what you have done and you will –“

“A Founder? Here?” The Jem’Hadar said, interrupting the Vorta and looking off into the distance.

“That is correct,” Wegnour said as he pulled himself back onto his feet, wiping the blood off his face. “You cannot possibly grasp the extent of the punishment he will administer when he learns of this.”

But Teleka’clan wasn’t listening. Something else had suddenly become irrefutably clear to him. The noise they had heard before had indeed been a scream. He did not know why he was so certain but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that the Founder was in serious danger.

He turned back to the Vorta who had recomposed himself now, displaying the same arrogance he had before.

“You fool,” the Jem’Hadar said and once again went for his superior’s throat. “How dare you not tell us that a Founder walked among us?”

This time the Jem’Hadar’s grip was too strong to allow Wegnour to speak. As he was raised off the ground and the soldier’s fingers began to draw blood from his neck he knew he had failed his mission. More importantly he had failed the Founder. There could only be one consequence for his failure. He closed his eyes and welcomed what was to come.


*********************************************************************************************


“He’s coming around.”

Culsten stirred at the sound of the familiar yet distant voice. His mind couldn’t quite grasp who it might belong to however. In fact there was very little he managed to focus on and even less he could remember. Everything was coming back very slowly.

He opened his eyes to see a smiling blue face looking down at him. “What happened?” he asked and tried to look around. His neck instantly punished him for the attempt with a sharp pain.

“Easy now,” another female voice intoned. “You suffered a concussion and you have strained several ligaments.”

The other woman stepped into his sight of vision. “Doctor?” he said as he finally recognized the people standing around him.

“I guess there isn’t any permanent damage,” the Andorian said to Ashley Wenera.

“It’s too early to tell,” she replied with a wide smile.

“Any chance he’ll be more humble?”

Wenera continued as if Culsten couldn’t hear their conversation. “After this we can consider ourselves lucky if he decides to even still speak to us.”

Srena feigned a heavy sigh.

“I might have had a concussion,” Culsten said and tried to push himself into the captain’s chair nearby. “But my hearing is just fine.”

With a more professional expression Wenera activated her tricorder and ran it over Culsten. “You could have fooled me with that earless head of yours,” she said, referring to the distinctively Krellonian characteristic. “Just to be sure I want you to come down to sickbay soon so that I can have another look at you.”

But the young officer wasn’t paying attention. He was looking past her and Srena to glance towards the view screen. He could see the crimson-colored planet in the distance – further away than it had been before – and between them and Ligos IV was nothing. No Jem’Hadar battle cruiser, not a sign of another enemy vessel, just refreshingly empty space. And then he saw it. It was difficult to spot with the naked eye but there was no doubt about it. An extensive debris field had appeared where the seemingly undefeatable Jem’Hadar behemoth had once stood.

“We did it,” he whispered and stood, ignoring the pain shooting through his limps.

Srena’s smile widened. “You did it, Lif!”

Culsten took a deep breath. Everyone on the bridge was looking at him. Wenera, Stiller, Trinik, Srena and the others, their eyes were filled with something he had never witnessed with such abundance. Respect. He had prevailed against all odds and guided them to victory. Of course he could not have done it without the crew – his crew – but he had been their undisputed leader. Pride was a marvelous feeling, he decided, as he let it wash over him. For the first time in his life he really understood what it meant to be a starship captain and no matter how difficult and frustrating it had been to get to this point, in the end it all had been worth it. The enemy was defeated and his ship and crew had survived.

“You want us to make you a statue?” Srena asked when he remained stoically frozen in place.
Wenera chuckled.

Culsen relaxed. “Why don’t you take your station, Ensign,” he said. “We’re not done yet.”

She exchanged a quick look with the doctor before replying. “Aye, aye, sir,” she said quickly as she took her position at the helm station.

“Doctor, casualties?” he asked and began to slowly lower himself into his chair again.

“Twenty-five injured two of which are still critical. Two mortalities.”

A sigh escaped his lips. It wasn’t good news but he realized it could have been a lot worse. He locked eyes with the ship’s chief physician. “Thank you doctor,” he whispered.

“No, it’s us who need to thank you,” she replied with a smile just before she turned on her heels and headed for the turbo-lift in order to return to sickbay where plenty of work still awaited her

“We have an incoming transmission from the Agamemnon,” Trinik reported.

“On screen.”

Donners looked surprisingly serious when her image appeared. “That was one of the most reckless maneuvers I have ever seen. Do you realize that if your torpedo had been just a second off it be our debris floating out there as well?”

Culsten swallowed. “I’m … I’m sorry. The warp core remote detonation failed and –“

“Sorry?” she asked incredulously. “You needed to think fast and you did,” she added her stern visage now broken by a smile. “You acted like a starship captain. You took action when you had to. I have come across captains with many times your experience who wouldn’t have acted as quickly as you did. I have no doubt that you’ll have your own ship one day and Starfleet will be able to consider itself very lucky to have you.”

The Krellonian managed a short nod at the high praise but Amaya Donners had left him speechless.

She gave him a wide smile, barring her brilliantly white teeth. “I take it there is still more to be done?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Call me Amaya,” she said.

He didn’t quite dare.

“Lead the way. Agamemnon out.”

The ebony-skinned woman disappeared from the screen and Culsten got back onto his feet. Every step he took was painful but he decided to ignore it as he stepped in between the helm and operations console. He turned around to face the bridge. “I wish to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for what you have done today. You have placed your trust in me when you had little reason to. Without you – every single one of you – we would not still be here.”

Srena shot him a look. “What are your orders, sir?”

He turned to look at the screen, focusing on the bright red planet. “Let’s go get our people.”


**************************************************************************************************


It wasn’t difficult to guess which way lead towards the surface. The main mine shaft was wider than all the others and lead distinctly upwards. It was lined with heavy machinery which had been used only very recently in order to dig the way towards the underground laboratory.

Leva and Nora who had taken point were very aware of their dilemma however. They both understood that they had little time to get to the surface and to the relative safety outside the blast radius of the unstable super-weapon but at the same time appreciated the fact that the Jem’Hadar army was still out there, assembling somewhere in the mine to prepare for their final attack. Of course Archangel was supposed to eliminate that threat but they did remember Santesh-Yardo’s warning. While the amplified radiation would most certainly kill the Jem’Hadar by degrading their genome on a molecular level, the immediate effects were not known. Which meant it was quite possible that the resilient soldiers would continue to pose a serious threat to the twenty-five survivors and their final run for freedom.

“How long?” Deen asked, glancing over at Xylion who had brought a padd which displayed the elapsed time since Archangel had powered up.

“Eight minutes, thirty-five seconds.”

Deen recalled that Tren had said that she was going to try to keep Archangel running for twenty minutes but after that all bets were off. With any luck she’d be able to keep the massive machine equalized for an additional minute or so but then the power levels would fluctuated so wildly that she didn’t stand a chance to keep the super-weapon from tearing itself apart. The group was already moving at a steep pace but so far she estimated that they had only covered about twenty percent of the journey to the surface.

She looked at Owens who walked just a few feet behind her. He had been understandingly distracted since they had left the lab. His face was an empty mask but his body language spoke volumes. He did not want to leave.

“We have to move faster,” she said to him.

He didn’t reply.

“Michael?”

He nodded suddenly and then turned towards D’Karr who was making up the rear, trying to keep the exhausted civilians moving. “Increase your pace,” he said simply.

“Do you think we’re going to make it?” Hopkins who was walking at Xylion’s side asked, not really wanting to hear the answer to that question.

“It is a distinct possibility.”

She smiled at his unusually vague reply. He was trying to give her hope. It wasn’t a particular Vulcan thing to do but it was appropriate for a leader. She appreciated the gesture.

Not a minute later the procession suddenly stopped. Nora had signaled for everyone to halt and take cover near the walls. She had scouted up ahead and apparently come across something that worried her.

“Hold you position,” Owens told Xylion and then went in a crouch to head up towards Nora. Deen followed closely.

“What is it?” he asked the security chief once he had reached her.

Nora indicated forward where the shaft was taking a slight turn. “There is something or someone behind that bend.”

Deen put a hand in front of her mouth and nose. “The smell,” she said disgusted.

The Bajoran nodded.

Now Owens could smell it too. It was a repugnant odor that seemed to be emanating from directly ahead of them. It seemed somewhat familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. It was most definitely not human. “Is this the only way to the surface?” he asked Leva who stood nearby, keeping his eyes focused on the bend ahead.

“We didn’t come through here,” he explained. “But I’m certain it is a faster way to get out of here than the one D’Karr and I took.”

“Very well. We don’t have time to draw up a major battle plan. Keep the civilians in the back. The rest advance.”

With that the Starfleet officers set in motion, carefully approaching the corner, phaser rifles at the ready. Nora and Leva were the first ones in, Owens Deen and Hopkins followed and D’Karr stayed in the rear. Xylion and the two other Starfleet crewmembers remained with the scientists.

Owens held his breath as he slowly walked around the bend, the flashlight of his rifle illuminating what lay ahead. The smell was becoming more nauseating with every step he took.

The tunnel opened up into a sizeable chamber, filled with computer consoles and machinery. But it wasn’t the mechanical devices which gave him pause. It was the field of corpses spread across the ground in front of him.

The six officers stood there in silence, the rifles giving light to one lifeless Jem’Hadar after the next. They had all hoped for this and yet the sight of over thirty dead bodies, some of which on top of each other was not one easily digested.

Nora was the first to make a move. She slowly began to step further into the cavern, carefully stepping in-between the dead bodies. It was Louise Hopkins, the usually reserved chief engineer, who was the next to follow.

“This is awful,” Deen said quietly.

“They got what they deserved,” Nora replied without looking back. Instead she was heading straight for an active computer console. It seemed to display a detailed map of the tunnel network.

As the rest of the officers began to fan out in the alien catacomb to find the best possible route towards the surface Hopkins knelt down to study one of the Jem’Hadar more closely.

Deen was repulsed by the sight and had to give it much effort to attempt not to step onto one of the slaughtered soldiers. It was a difficult task. She froze when she spotted an irregularity amongst the dead bodies. The floor was a gray and black mass of Jem’Hadar bodies except for one spot where she was certain she could see a differently hued texture. She approached carefully. As she stepped closer she recognized the only body which was not Jem’Hadar. “There is a Vorta here,” she said to the others.

“So what?” said Nora, still distracted with the computer console.

Deen looked closer, discovering the gushing wounds around his throat. She turned towards Owens. “He was strangled.”

The captain didn’t quite understand what the Tenarian was trying to imply.

“And this Jem’Hadar,” she continued as she checked the next body. “He was shot. At close range.”

“Sir,” said Nora, glancing up from the console. “I think I have found a way out of here,” she explained and then pointed at one of the many intersecting tunnels. “That shaft should lead to the surface. About six-hundred meters.”

Owens nodded. “Commander Leva, get the rest of the team and get them through there now.”

Leva acknowledged and hurried back to where they had left the civilians.

“I wonder if they were in pain,” said Hopkins as she studied the face of a dead Jem’Hadar with strangely detached curiosity. “They look so peaceful now,” she continued, ignoring the fact that everybody was now looking her way.

“Lou, are you alright?” Deen asked with concern.

The chief engineer looked up. “I hope they were in a lot of pain,” she said and threw the dead Jem’Hadar another disgusted glance.

And then his eyes shot open.

Hopkins’ felt as if ice water had suddenly been shot into her veins. She stumbled backwards, tripping over another body and landing right in-between the lifeless bodies.

The Jem’Hadar solider tried to get on his feet. Just as he had managed to prop himself onto his knees he was cut down by a phaser blast from Nora which was quickly followed by discharges emanating from D’Karr’s and Owens’ weapons.

The solider dropped back onto the floor, his body flopping like a fish out of water before he went completely limp.

Utterly disgusted by the stench Hopkins jumped back on her feet. She gripped her own rifle tightly and pointed it straight at the now surely dead solider in front of her feet. He barely moved when the blast tore through his flesh. She didn’t stop there. Aiming her weapon at the next body she unloaded another round. She slowly moved through the field of dead bodies, firing at will at the unmoving targets.

Nora joined in, seemingly taking devilish delight in making dead sure that not one of these soldiers could come back to attack them.

Gripped by a sudden and overwhelming need to exact vengeance upon the creatures which had brought so much suffering and pain to him Owens took aim at the nearest body and fired his own weapon.

Only after having obliterated half a dozen former enemies did he notice Deen looking at him. Her eyes didn’t show anger or condemnation. It was something else, something more akin to disappointment. He froze. It was not only her looking at him he realized. The civilians had now entered the cavern and all of them where now staring at the Starfleet officers with astonishment and uncertainty.

“Cease fire,” Owens said.

Neither Nora nor Hopkins did. And D’Karr who had by now also joined in massacring the dead was also too preoccupied to hear the captain’s words.

“Cease fire!”

This time the message was too loud and too clear to go ignored. Hopkins was the last one to squeeze off a shot before turning to Owens. She looked ashamed when she noticed the scientist’s empty stares.

“Time, Mister Xylion?”

If the Vulcan had been revolted by the sight of his comrades display of irrational action he did well to hide it. “Twelve minutes, fifty-six seconds.”

Owens forced himself to ignore what had just happened. He gestured towards the shaft Nora had indicated earlier. “Head that way, double time.”

Xylion acknowledged and began to instruct the civilians. But in order to get to the tunnel that led to the surface they first had to cross the Jem’Hadar graveyard which quickly proved to be a slow and painful progress. Understandingly in a hurry to get across, many of the civilians tripped and fell. Xylion and Leva had their hands full trying to keep them calm and moving.

“Michael,” Deen said softly as she stepped up to him. “I don’t think these soldiers were killed by Archangel. At least not directly.”

He looked at her, suddenly feeling the sting of embarrassment for having lost control just moments earlier.

“These men were killed by each other,” she continued when Owens didn’t speak. “The radiation of Archangel must have caused them to –“she stopped when she heard the approaching noise.

Owens noticed it at the exact same time and within a second everyone in the cavern did as well. It was coming from within one of the shafts and it was getting louder quickly, approaching them fast. It sounded like a choir of screams. Not so much battle cries but sounds of desperate agony.

“Hostiles!” Nora shouted and instantly took cover behind the console.

Owens whipped around towards Xylion. “Move them out now!”

By the time he turned back the first Jem’Hadar soldiers came pouring out of the tunnel. Nora, Leva and D’Karr opened fire instantly and the other armed officers quickly followed suit.

The first row collapsed before they ever even entered the cavern. Owens noticed right away that something was very different about these soldiers. They were not the same they had faced in battle before. There was no tactic or plan to their attack. They were not shrouded and didn’t even make use of their poloron weapons. Many of the Jem’Hadar, he could see, where already injured, bruised and scratched up.

The second row mostly fell over their already downed comrades. Those who managed to get past the first hurdle stumbled over the dead Jem’Hadar spread out across the cavern floor and where easily picked off by phaser fire.

But they kept coming, in a mad rush to get to the Starfleeters at any and all cost. Some launched themselves into the cavern, trying to reach their targets through the air.

D’Karr switched over to his bat’leth sword as they managed to get closer and began to cut the uncoordinated Jem’Hadar down with relative ease.

Soon absolute chaos reigned in the cavern of death. In the growing confusion two of the rabid soldiers slipped by the Starfleet officers and launched themselves at the nearest target of opportunity. The junior researcher was so worried of getting out of the cavern that he never saw the incoming attack. Both Jem’Hadar jumped the man simultaneously, throwing him to the ground like a pack of wild animals. They began to tear at his clothes, his flesh even his bones. His scream of terror echoed across the chamber.

Xylion hurried to the scene and pulled one of the attackers off the man. The second fighter was pierced by Leva’s phaser. The Vulcan tried to help the unfortunate victim but quickly determined that there was nothing left to save.

“Move out, move out!” Owens shouted and began to step backwards and towards the tunnel that would lead to safety while he kept firing at the approaching mass of out of control warriors.

The others followed his example, creating a protective semi-circle around the remaining civilians and their escape route.

A few seconds later the last of the researchers had made it into the tunnel and Owens indicated for Hopkins, Deen and Leva to follow while he, Nora and D’Karr provided cover fire.

“The ceiling,” D’Karr suggested once they had reached the entrance of the tunnel.

Owens nodded. He and the Klingon took aim and fired at the very top of the cavern. The rocks came loose after just a few blasts and began to rain down onto the Jem’Hadar below. A few large pieces squashed the soldiers like insects and the dust quickly formed a thick cloud which made it near impossible to continue to make out any survivors.

“Let’s move!” Owens said and together with Nora and D’Karr swiftly followed the rest of the team towards the surface.



The tunnel which was to lead to their escape turned out to be even steeper than the earlier path, slowing their progress significantly.

Owens could hear phaser fire before they had even caught up with the rest of the team. They broke out into a fast jog, their weapons at the ready.

Moments later they rejoined with Xylion and the others who were still moving forward but at a very slow pace. They were being attacked on all sides by individual Jem’Hadar solider who shot out of other tunnels and crevices to leap onto the team not unlike lions would on a pack of frightened gazelles.

So far the Starfleet officers were able to keep the uncoordinated attackers in check, picking them up one by one with their phaser rifles but keeping up their defenses also meant sacrificing their chance at a quick escape.

Owens and Nora cut down a small group of Jem’Hadar trying to attack the slow procession from the rear before joining up with the others.

“What is happening here?” Owens asked Deen, making sure to keep his eyes and his weapon aimed at the dark tunnels which intersected the main shaft.

“It’s Archangel,” Deen replied and fired another shot at an approaching attacker. “It’s not killing them. It’s driving them mad.”

The captain nodded. Her theory seemed to make sense. He didn’t have time to consider if this meant that Santesh-Yardo’s project had been a failure or not. Fighting off crazed Jem’Hadar seemed easier than having to face a well orchestrated assault. In the end it probably mattered little. At their current pace they would not be able to clear the mine before Archangel would obliterate it.

“Sir, look!”

It was Hopkins’ insisting cry that forced Owens to look into her direction. The young engineer was pointing ahead. His glance followed her outstretched arm and then he spotted it. There was quite literally light at the end of the tunnel. But it was nothing more than a speck, at least six-hundred yards away.

And then suddenly it was gone. At first he couldn’t quite tell why.

“The Founder?” a booming voice echoed through the shaft. “Where is the Founder?”

Owens’ narrowed his eyes to see more clearly. The voice belonged to a single Jem’Hadar who had stepped between the survivors and the exit. The man was at least two meters tall and probably had the widest shoulders he had ever seen on a humanoid man of his stature. He was steadily stepping closer.

The captain took careful aim. It was obvious from the soldier’s physique, his body language and even his voice that he was the leader. And he was resisting the effects of Archangel far better than his men did. His eyes were bloodshot and his sparse black hair was in disarray. But his apparent determination left little doubt that at least a part of his brain was still working.

But perhaps by destroying their commander the other Jem’Hadar would lose their motivation to fight. Owens pointed his rifle at the solider and found a clear line of fire. He tapped the triggering stub. The weapon did nothing. He looked at it curiously and it took him a second to understand. It had run out of power.

“Watch out!” Nora shouted and pushed the captain out of the way. Not a moment later a Jem’Hadar landed where Owens had stood just a second earlier and then was instantly cut down by a well placed phaser blast from Nora’s rifle.

Owens looked upwards and to his horror found that the Jem’Hadar forces had assembled on a ridge immediately on top of the tunnel about six meters above them. Without concern for their own safety or any weapons to speak of they simply leaped on their prey below.

“Get back, get back!” Owens shouted, reaching out for the nearest scientist and pushing him back down the shaft.

The Starfleet officers followed suit, firing at the Jem’Hadar now attacking from above and attempting to usher the civilians out of their ambushed position. They were not fast enough. One of the researches was killed immediately when one of the rabid warriors leaped directly on top of him, breaking his own neck in the process.

Chaos was spreading quickly now and Owens himself was losing his sense of direction as bodies pushed and pressed against him. Frightened civilians, his own people trying to orchestrate a retreat and the enemy fighters who in their state of stupor were now attacking everything that moved - including their own - made it difficult to make a move, let alone trying to get his own people out of harm’s way.

He desperately needed a fresh power cell for his rifle but couldn’t see anybody near him that could provide one. Seeing a female researcher being attacked by two Jem’Hadar he quickly grabbed his weapon with both hands by the barrel and brought the butt down hard on one of the attackers. The soldier stumbled to the ground.

He swung the rifle again, connecting with the second Jem’Hadar’s face with such force that the phaser broke in two pieces. He dropped the now useless weapon and reached for his sidearm instantly discharging it at another approaching attacker at point blank range.

A large powerful hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around; bringing him face to face with quite possibly the largest Jem’Hadar solider he had ever seen. His eyes were burning with unconstrained rage.

“Where is the Founder?” the Jem’Hadar leader shouted at Owens so forcefully that his spittle hit the captain’s face.

Owens tried to aim his phaser at the man but Telaka’clan simply slapped the weapon out of his hand. Without hesitation Owens connected with the Jem’Hadar’s lower jar, causing his opponent’s head to jerk to the side. Unimpressed ‘Clan wiped away some of his blood from his lips and struck out against the Starfleet officer, hitting him right in the center of his breast plate and sending him flying backwards.

The force of the blow took Owens’ breath away as he stumbled to ground.

The Jem’Hadar leader wasted no time, stepping up to the fallen officer he put his heavy boot onto the side of Owens’ face, pushing it into the ground. “Tell me where the Founder is or I’ll crush your pathetic head into dust,” he said, pushing harder.

Owens could feel the immense pressure on his skull. He knew that the imposing Jem’Hadar would be able to make good on his promise with ease. But he also understood that in his current state the soldier would not stop until he was dead, no matter what he told him.

He managed to free his arms and get firm grip on the soldiers’ boot before twisting it with all the strength he had left. The ankle bone dislodged and Telaka’clan stumbled away from his opponent.

Owens coughed hard as he tried to get back on his feet. He didn’t know much about Jem’Hadar physiology but he was certain that the soldier was merely stunned and would quickly recover. He had to act quickly. Trying to ignoring the sharp pain shooting through his skull he approached the dazed Jem’Hadar, balled both his hands into one fist and began to pound his opponent’s head.

Telaka’clan didn’t attempt to defend himself but refused to go down. Instead he just took blow after blow and stumbled backwards until there was no more room to go.

Owens’ breathing was now heavily labored, his hands scratched up and bleeding from the Jem’Hadar’s hard pebbled face.

“The Founder,” Telaka’clan hissed through clenched and bloodied teeth.

The Starfleet captain spotted a large rock on the ground and reached for it. “The Founder is dead,” he said as his hands wrapped around the large stone.

Telaka’clan howled in anger and charged forward. Owens was unprepared for the sudden demonstration of strength. He was caught front on by the bulldozing soldier, picked up from the ground and pushed backwards. He remained lodged against ‘Clan, unable to free himself.

Still holding the rock in his hand he brought it down hard against his head. It penetrated both skin and bone causing a large enough wound that should have led to a massive head trauma to any other creature. But the Jem’Hadar hardly even acknowledged the injury.

He drove the Starfleet officer into the opposite wall where he collapsed back onto the ground.

Owens felt as if he had been run over by a starship. Every single bone in his body was aching, he could taste blood in his mouth and his spine felt as if it had been badly dislocated. And yet he forced himself back onto his hands and knees.

“You cannot kill a god,” the Jem’Hadar hissed as he watched Owens try to crawl away like an insect. “The Founders cannot die.”

Out of the corner of his eyes Owens spotted a computer padd lying on the ground. He turned to look at it. It was similar to the one Xylion had used to measure how much time had lapsed. Another glance confirmed his suspicion. It was the same padd. The display was still functioning. It showed seventeen minutes and forty-three seconds. Twenty minutes, Jana had said. She would be able to keep it running for twenty minutes. After that they would all die. She would die.

“I saw it die,” Owens said weakly, spitting out a tooth which had come loose and looked up at the enraged Jem’Hadar. “If gods cannot die than your Founders are no gods.”

Telaka’clan balled his massive hand into a fist and aimed it straight at Owens’ head.

Eagle’s captain had reached out for the padd and held it out into the fist’s path. The display was instantly shattered but the padd remained in one piece, deflecting the blow. The Jem’Hadar was momentarily distracted by the shards of sharp glass that had dug deep into his hand.

Owens took full advantage, driving the remains of the padd into his opponent’s face, destroying his eyes and completely blinding him.

Telaka’clan screamed with rage and both his hands went instinctively up towards his face in an effort to remove the pieces of glass which were now stuck there.

Michael Owens shoved his stunned opponent backwards and over a number of dead Jem’Hadar. Blind and without a sense of orientation the First fell and landed on his back.

Owens was on him in an instance. Finding the large rock he had used earlier, he gripped it firmly once again and brought it down hard on the Jem’Hadar’s face. Blood spurted all over his uniform and his own face as the rock smashed into the Jem’Hadar’s tissue and skull. Undeterred Owens continued, drawing the rock all the way back behind his head before driving it with full force into the Jem’Hadar. Once, twice, three times until there was nothing left but a bloody pulp. Telaka’clan’s body continued to twitch slightly even while his face was no longer recognizable.

So much blood was covering the rock now that it simply slipped out of Owens’ grip. The captain himself tried to stagger back onto his feet but froze when he spotted two Jem’Hadar solider charging him in a mad fury as if to avenge their fallen leader. Michael Owens knew that he had nothing left to face them with.

Two phaser beams shot out of the darkness.

The approaching soldiers collapsed just a few inches from where Owens still sat on top of Telaka’clan’s motionless body.

Moments later more phaser blasts shot across the shaft. Owens tried to protect himself and lowered his head but quickly realized that only the remaining Jem’Hadar were being targeted. But it wasn’t his men who had opened fire.

Figures began stepping out of the darkness all around Owens. One man stepped up to him, offering him his hand.

He looked up at his rescuer. It took him a moment to recognize the burly, dark haired man. “Major?”

Cesar Wasco nodded and pulled the captain onto his feet. “I’m sorry we’re late. We were delayed.”

Owens looked around. The tunnel was littered with dead and unconscious bodies. Most of which he found to be Jem’Hadar. There were also a few civilian scientists among the bodies and he could spot at least one Starfleet officer. At first glance he counted five Marines, moving efficiently through the field of bodies, trying to assist those who had been wounded.

“Sir?”

The captain turned. Another group of survivors which had fled deeper into the mine reappeared, led by his officers and an additional three Marines.

Nora quickly stepped up to Owens. “Are you alright, sir?” she asked. “We couldn’t locate you and we thought you might have …” she didn’t finish her sentence but it was all too obvious that she felt as if she had failed him.

“You kept those people safe,” Owens said slowly. “That’s what counts.”

Nora nodded slowly but his words didn’t appear to make her feel much better about herself. She had always considered protecting the captain to be her uttermost priority. Now for the first time since she had served under Captain Michael Owens she knew she had not kept to that promise. She had failed him in so many regards. And not just him.

“We’re not far from the surface,” Deen stated and pointed towards a dot of white light in the distance. “How much time do we have?”

Owens looked to the ground to find the padd but could find only useless remains.

“Nineteen minutes and eleven seconds have passed since the activation of Archangel,” Xylion pointed out quickly. Like the others his uniform was torn and dirty and green blood covered some of his face.

“Major, help everyone who can’t walk by themselves and get them to the surface now. Double time, everyone!” Owens ordered.

The Marines sprang into action, picking up the wounded, helping them onto their feet or carrying them. D’Karr and Leva helped as well while Xylion carried Hopkins who had sustained an injury to her right leg in the recent battle.

Owens however did not move.

“Michael?” Deen asked, standing next to him with a wide bloody cut crossing her once perfectly smooth face.

He looked at her brilliantly purple eyes which he noticed for the first time had lost much of their radiance. “Go Dee,” he said quietly.

“What about you?”

He turned around and walked back into the mine.

But Deen had anticipated that move. With surprising speed and strength she reached out for his shoulder, holding him back. “This is insane and you know it! You’ll never get to her in time.”

“Let go of me!” he shouted and forcefully freed himself from her grasp.

“Michael, there is no time to get back to the lab and out of the mine,” she called after him. “If you go back you die!” Deen had tears in her eyes now.

“I have to try,” he declared without looking back. “You get the hell out of here!”

Deen stood like petrified as she watched Owens head for certain doom. She stood alone now. The rest of the survivors had not even noticed their captain’s decision as they were all rushing towards the exit in a desperate attempt to clear the mine before it was too late. For the first time in her relatively short life she felt completely drained of even the least little speck of hope.


-----------------------------
Stay tuned for Chapter XXI - Scars

 

Re: Chapter XX - Havoc

As the story winds down, we can see how this first action has affected the Eagle and her crew. Culsten found reserves he didn't know he had, Nora Laas and Michael Owens faced personal loss, and everyone faced the loss of innocence.

And the war has just begun.

 

Chapter XXI - Scars

Chapter XXI – Scars


Michael Owens could hear Deen shouting his name but he decided to ignore her as he pressed on into the mine. He had to get back to the lab, find Jana Tren and get her to the surface. And all that in less than a few minutes. The rational side of his brain told him that it was impossible. Even if he didn’t run into any more rapid Jem’Hadar, even if he could get to the lab and get Jana to leave Archangel without the device becoming instantly unstable, even then there wasn’t a chance in the universe they would manage to get to safety in time.

But it wasn’t the rational part of his brain that drove him now. It was pure emotion. He would try against all odds and if everything failed, if he didn’t make it at least he would die with the woman he loved. Perhaps that was better than surviving alone.

He had managed less than fifty meters when a massive quake threw him off his feet and he painfully landed on the ground. The entire mine shook and debris began to rain down on him. This could mean only one thing.

Owens couldn’t breathe as his mind was beginning to grasp what had happened. Archangel had destroyed itself.

He was trying to struggle back onto his feet when he saw it. It was just a spark of blinding bright light at the far end of the shaft but it didn’t take him long to realize that the wall of fire was coming his way.

He turned to look behind him. He could see Deen still looking at him. And not far behind her were the survivors who had now also realized what had happened. When Owens turned back he could see that none of them where going to get out of the mine alive.

At that moment his rational mind took over again. It was too late of course and all he was left with were the regrets for not having been more focused on the task of getting the survivors to safety. He didn’t know if he could have done more but he knew he hadn’t done enough.

Sweat pearls began forming on his face as the heat rose to unbearable levels in mere instances. He took a deep breath of ultra heated air which nearly burned the insides of his lungs and he closed his eyes. He was certain he would have an eternity to think about his failures.

A familiar sensation spread throughout his body and for a moment he thought he was being taken apart atom by atom by the approaching fire. But that of course didn’t make any sense. A shockwave of that proportion should have incinerated him instantly.

He opened his eyes again when he felt surprisingly cool air against his skin. The fire was gone and so was the mine shaft.

“We have them,” Chief Yang-Sen Chow said from behind the transporter control console. “Twelve survivors. Agamemnon reports they got an additional nine,” he added and gave the captain a wide smile. “Welcome back, sir.”

Michael Owens did not feel like smiling. In fact his mind was still trying to come to terms with what had just happened. He had been prepared to die, he had come to terms with it. But now that fate had been stolen from him.

He looked around to see five other survivors on the platform with him. There was Deen, a young male Marine and three civilian researchers and all of them looked as if they had been through hell. He knew they had.

Owens took a careful step forward but nearly stumbled over his own feet. The sudden change of his surroundings had thrown off his balance.

Doctor Wenera stood ready with a group of medics. She quickly approached Owens with her medical tools at the ready. “Captain,” she said with an obvious tone of relief.

He simply looked at her as if seeing her for the first time.

But she ignored the empty look in his eyes and instead focused on his many injuries. His face was badly bruised and bleeding. He had deep cuts along his torso and back which were blatantly obvious through his torn uniform. His right hand was completely covered in blood. “Let me take you to sickbay.”

Owens snapped out of his momentary daze. He gave the men and women beside him a quick glance over, finding them all bruised and injured. “Treat the others,” he said.

But Wenera had instantly determined that Owens needed the most urgent attention. “We will but I want to look at –“

“Treat the others!” he repeated sharply and walked passed Wenera and towards the exit.

The doctor was briefly stunned by his outburst but quickly regained her composure. She turned to follow Owens, not willing to be put off her job that easily. She stopped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see DeMara Deen standing behind her. She wasn’t quite as badly wounded as the captain but the usually striking Tenarian was a complete mess now, covered from head to toe in dirt, her once shiny golden hair darkened by dust and in complete disarray.

“Let him go,” she said.



****************************************************************************************************



Nora Laas had been certain that this time she would most certainly not be able to cheat death like she had managed to do ever since stepping foot onto Ligos IV. She would have never admitted it to anybody else but she was sick of trying. She had looked into death’s ugly face more times than she cared to remember in her lifetime but never before had she felt so ready for it.

Her last thought when she spotted the approaching shockwave was the fact that she had not been able to save the captain and the rest of the survivors. That above all else troubled her about losing her life on this distant and insignificant rock at the outer rim of the known galaxy.

Even though she knew that their chances for survival where practically non-existent she had continued to push and shout for the others to rush for the now seemingly unreachable exit. Then she froze and turned around to see Deen and Owens further down the mine, the fiery shockwave just seconds from enveloping them both.

She had always known, even when she was a resistance fighter on Bajor, that she would face death head-on, she wouldn’t turn away from it, wouldn’t even blink.

Death never came.

Instead she suddenly found herself in a transporter room on a ship that wasn’t hers and yet looked and felt familiar.

She was surrounded by Marines and civilians, most of which seemed confused. Once the initial shock had passed some of the researchers couldn’t hold back their tears when they finally realized that they had saved.

Nora kept hers in check. She stepped off the dais and immediately addressed the female Vulcan transporter operator. “The others? The captain?”

The woman calmly placed her hands behind her back before she responded. “Eagle reports they have beamed onboard Captain Owens and additional survivors.”

The Bajoran officer couldn’t suppress a small sigh of relief.

It was only much later when she had returned to her quarters that she allowed herself to lose control.

She had entered with the intention to clean herself up, get rid of her tattered uniform, take a very long sonic shower and perhaps visit sickbay to finally give her body the proper medical treatment it deserved. But she never even made it to her own washroom.

She froze when she spotted the blood-red planet of Ligos IV through the windows in her quarters. Nora slowly stepped closer and felt her legs give way. “You broke your promise,” she whispered.

And then suddenly without warning she felt another emotion take over. Rage. She let out a long agonizing scream before she reached out for the closest object she could find – a flower vase – and smashed it to the ground. She didn’t stop there. She destroyed almost everything she could find, chairs, tables, plants even ripped apart the cushions on her bed.

Within a few moments her once spotless room resembled a battlefield. But her unbridled anger had drained the last bit of energy that had remained in her battered body.

Unable to remain on her feet she sacked onto the floor, sobbing freely now. She had wanted one thing and one thing only from Eugene Edison. She had wanted him to survive. But he had broken that promise. Worse even, she had let him break it. By now she had run through the scenario of his death a million times and she was certain – dead certain – that she could have saved him. If only she hadn’t hesitated, if only she had killed the shapeshifter when she’d had the chance, if only she had stopped him trying to save her, if only – the list went on and on.

She remained on the floor crying while her mind punished her with a million ways she could have prevented the death of the only man she had ever loved.



*************************************************************************************************



She had found him sitting in a chair in the observation deck. His chair was turned towards the large panorama windows and he appeared to be looking into outer space. She couldn’t be sure of course as his face and body were both hidden from her.

There was a lot DeMara Deen wanted to say to Michael Owens. But she knew that she couldn’t allow herself. Not only were her feelings inappropriate at the moment they might have very well been inappropriate period. And she needed time to fully come to grips with them herself, she realized.

There was more to talk about than her confusing feelings however. Much more. But she didn’t even know where to begin.

As she slowly stepped closer to the conference table she noticed a large bloody rag on the table. He had not been to sickbay yet.

“I hear Doctor Wenera is looking for me,” he said suddenly but refusing to look her way.

Deen nodded when she realized that Owens could see her from the reflection in the window.

“How are the survivors?”

“The civilians are shook up of course,” she explained. “The Marines are mostly fine but Louise had to undergo some minor surgery for her leg. Otherwise everyone got out without much more than cuts and bruises,” she added unconsciously touching her chin where she had been cut badly during their last encounter with the Jem’Hadar. The wound had now completely disappeared.

“Not everyone got out.”

Deen silently cursed herself for the slip up. “How are you holding up?”

“I feel dizzy,” he said and finally swiveled his chair around to face his long-time friend. His uniform was still dirty and covered in all kinds of different blood. His face looked awfully swollen and was plastered with bloody cuts and bruises. He had wiped it clean with the rag but it clearly still required much more professional attention.

The Tenarian stepped up to him and gently pressed a hypo-spray against his neck. “We were exposed to high levels of radiation down there. This should make you feel a bit better,” she explained and emptied the contents into his blood stream.

“Thanks.”

She gave him a curt nod and headed back towards the exit. But before she reached it she stopped and reconsidered. She turned to face him again. “Michael, I’m sorry for –“

He raised his hand, cutting her off. “There is nothing you have to apologize for. You – all of us – did what we could. In the end we managed to get some of the people out of there and more importantly deny the Dominion to get their hands on a weapon that could have easily won them the war.”

For a moment Deen didn’t speak. She simply watched Owens’ eyes which appeared emptier than they had ever been, as if all life had been forcefully drained out of them, leaving behind nothing but a soulless shell.

“You loved her didn’t you?”

He didn’t reply. Instead he turned his chair away from her again.

She took a small step towards him. “I’m sorry for the way I have acted over the last few days. I’m sorry I didn’t trust her the way you did.”

“You had no reason to.”

Deen shook her head. “I should have known that if you trusted her it meant that she was worth of it. The fact that you loved her Michael means that she was a truly good person, I’m convinced of that now.”

“She was always stubborn,” he said in a suddenly much more casual sounding tone. “She always did what she thought was right and she would stick to her guns no matter what,” he added and uttered a short laugh. “It didn’t matter how much proof you could produce to show evidence of the contrary, if she didn’t believe it there was no way of swaying her. But she was also sensitive and passionate. When she did something she used to put all her heart into it and more. And when she failed she would pick herself up and try again. Giving up was not in her nature.”

“It’s not in yours either,” Deen said.

“She believed in Archangel. She truly believed that it would end this terrible war and the suffering it has brought the Federation. You probably couldn’t see it,” he continued. “Even I nearly missed it but all she wanted was to stop the suffering. In the end she knew that her only choice was to destroy it and herself along with it.”

“What she did was very brave.”

Owens suddenly stood and looked straight at Deen. “It was foolish,” he said sharply.

She recoiled slightly at his intensity.

“If she had been honest about it from the start maybe we would have done things differently,” he said and Deen could see the anger swell up in his eyes as he spoke. “All these damn games and useless secrecy. And what did it get us? We lost a lot of good people down there. We lost Archangel, we lost her, we lost Edison!”

Deen did not know how to reply to his outburst. She knew that he was right but she also realized that the last thing he needed was to be reaffirmed that the person he had loved and had given her life for their escape should deserve so much blame. In fact she found it difficult to blame her for anything at this point. It had been easy enough when she had been alive but it was impossible to argue with somebody who was not. And no matter how she had felt about her she had never believed that Jana Tren deserved the fate which had ultimately befallen her.

“Edison, Tren, Santesh-Yardo, Monroe and all the others who lost their lives here today should be remembered for what they died for. They all gave their lives to defend the Federation, to save those who survived. There isn’t a greater honor we could bestow upon them.”

Owens smiled weakly. “I should have been among them,” he said and turned away.

Deen took two quick steps towards him. “Now that is a stupid thing to say,” she said with uncharacteristic forcefulness. “Without you their sacrifice would have been in vain, you understand? You did what you had to get us out of there and if you hadn’t then you and all of us would be dead now, don’t you forget that. Somebody once told me that we have little control over who lives and who dies. That the only difference we’re really able to make is how we decide to face the inevitable. It is easy for you to wish you had died, Michael. The real challenge is to be able to live with what has happened.”

“We have little choice,” he said and looked at her once more. “We are needed now more than ever. There’ll be no easy fix for us to get us out of this war. We will have to fight and I fear it will be a long and bitter affair and by the time it’s all over there’ll be little of us left.”

But the Tenarian refused to take part in his gloomy assessment. “We’ll get through this one. We’ll continue to fight and like Jana Tren we’ll never give up. After all we have something the Dominion will never understand: An unwavering desire to remain a free people and slaves to no one.”

Owens’ eyes were once again fixed upon the stars. He had heard every single word Deen had spoken, he had even noticed her rising passion but somehow she had failed to convince him. He felt as if he had lost part of himself on the planet below and he was certain it was the better one. With it he had lost love, passion and hope. What remained now felt empty and left a distinctly bitter taste in his mouth. His chest felt constricted and breathing had suddenly become a laborious effort.

There was of course still his duty as a starship captain and an instrument of Starfleet and the Federation. Deen was certainly right about at least one aspect. He would continue fighting for as long as he had a breath in his body.


****************************************************************************************************


In her four years as a Starfleet nurse, Leela Adams had never encountered a more stubborn patient than the one who was occupying one of her bio-beds now. And she had treated numerous Vulcans and at least three different starship captains.

She attempted to bring up the bone-knitter to the injured arm for the third time and for a third time the patient refused to cooperate.

“I cannot attend to your wounds if you don’t remain still,” she said with surprising annoyance in her tone, considering the person she was trying to heal. Not many would have dared such a defiant tone towards a man who even though injured still appeared as if he could easily tear the nimble woman in two.

“I do not require your assistance,” the Klingon grumbled as he easily pushed the hand with the medical instrument away as if it was a poisonous injector. “Just get me some blood wine,” he added with a feral grin. “That will help with the pain.”

Adams sighed loudly. “As I told you before, we do not prescribe alcoholic beverages for medical treatment. If you just let me do my job I assure you I will allay you of the pain.”

“He wants to keep those scars,” another voice advised, causing both of them to look towards the approaching So’Dan Leva. “They’ll remind him of what happened today and I’m sure he’ll need them to prove to others that his stories are true.”

The Klingon laughed. “Oh they’ll believe the stories,” he said and sat up. His deep voice quickly attracted the attention of everyone in sickbay. “I’ll challenge the poor fool who will not,” he added, throwing a threatening glance over the medical staff which quickly decided to avoid direct eye contact with the fierce warrior.

Leela Adams remained stoic however. “I’ll fix your arm,” she said, eliciting a disapproving growl from the Klingon. “But I promise I’ll keep all your flesh wounds intact,” she added with some disgust. Not only did she find it appalling to leave his many wounds untreated, her patient was practically covered in blood and it made her uncomfortable.

D’Karr reluctantly presented the broken limb and then smiled when she began to use the bone-knitter somewhat unsteadily. “Let’s see then if you are as good at medicine as you are at playing that musical device of yours. I doubt it.”

Adams looked up with a frown, not sure if she was supposed to feel complimented or insulted. She decided to let it go and concentrated to mending the broken bones.

“You seem in a good mood considering that we almost didn’t make it out of that mine alive,” Leva pointed out as he watched Adams treating the warrior.

The Klingon’s eyes gleamed when he spoke again. “We are alive, are we not?”

“Barely.”

D’Karr nodded with seemingly aberrant pensiveness. “I could see Sto-vo-kor, I could feel it pulling me in. We were but on the threshold to cross over and I was ready to go. But it was not our time. Not yet.”

The nurse finished with the arm.

The Klingon flexed his muscled and moved his joints. “Not bad, little woman.”

She glared at him. “If you need anything else don’t call me,” she said in an icy tone and quickly stepped away to find a more willing patient. It would be an easy task.

D’Karr roared with laughter as he watched her depart.

“I didn’t have a chance to say it but you fought well down there,” the tactical officer offered, making it sound like nothing more than a throwaway remark.

The Klingon quickly focused on the man. “You’re not going to get soft on me, are you? I don’t need your compliments.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Lieutenant,” Leva shot back. “I’m merely giving credit where it is due. As your superior officer it is part of my job to evaluate your performance.”

D’Karr stood from the bio-bed. “I’m sure my superiors in the Defense Force will be exhilarated to read performance reports written by a Romulan.”

“Half-Romulan,” he corrected and turned to leave.

“Mister Leva.”

The tactical officer froze. The way D’Karr had spoken his name gave him pause and he couldn’t quite explain why at first. Then it hit him. The Klingon had never called him by his name before. Leva turned slowly.

“Those ears and that green blood of yours had me fooled for a while,” he said. “Your human side is nauseatingly more prominent.”

The two men simply stared at each other like they had done so many times before. But this time there appeared to be something else in their respective eyes. It wasn’t revulsion. They had gone into battle collectively, they had fought side-by-side and they had faced death together. In the end they had both come out alive. It was not the conclusion either one of them had anticipated. The respect that had grown out of this bond remained unspoken.

Leva reached for a towel and threw it towards the Klingon who easily caught it. “Do me a favor, will you?” Leva said as he turned towards the exit once more. “Clean yourself up before you report to duty. I don’t want you to bleed all over the ship.”

The half-Romulan had a tiny smile on his lips. He was determined not to show it to the Klingon. He stepped through the doors and left sickbay.


---------------------

 

Epilogue

Epilogue


Most of his wounds treated, cleaned up and wearing a fresh uniform Captain Michael Timothy Owens stepped onto his bridge for the first time since he and his officers had left for the ill-fated mission to what had once been Starfleet outpost Epsilon Twelve.

The bridge was in bad shape. Only about half the computer consoles seemed operational and the scorched bulkheads were either lined with cracks or featured prominent fissures. Once hidden cables and conduits now lay bare and there was an unmistakable smell of recent battle in the air.

The captain had read the report of what had transpired in his absence and he understood that Eagle’s survival had not been guaranteed at any point. While he and the senior officers had fought viciously to survive on the planet below so had Eagle and her crew struggled not to fall victim to the vicious Jem’Hadar.

The damage was extensive. The ship had lost its warp core and most of its offensive and defensive capabilities. Life support was still working but there were power outages throughout the ship as the EPS grid had taken serious damage.

“Captain on the bridge!”

Owens froze when he heard Leva’s surprising announcement. It had been a long time since those words had been uttered on Eagle. It was not standard practice on Starfleet vessels to announce the commanding officer’s arrival but many captains had kept the old maritime tradition in place. Not so Owens.

All senior officers appeared to be present and upon hearing the tactical officer they quickly lined up along the starboard bulkhead and stood at full attention.

The captain nodded with appreciation at the gesture as he began his journey from the turbo-lift towards the command area at the center of the bridge. He slowly passed all his officers, exchanging a quick glance with each one of them.

Lieutenant Commander Xylion, Lieutenant Commander So’Dan Leva, Lieutenant Deen, Major Cesar Wasco, Lieutenant Hopkins even Lieutenant D’Karr were present to show their respect for the man who had lead them to victory against overwhelming odds.

Owens painfully took note of two missing officers. Commander Eugene Edison and Lieutenant Nora Laas. The former of course would never set foot on Eagle again and he fully understood why the Bajoran woman was not there. After all he himself wished he didn’t have to be. The urge to lock himself into his quarters for the unforeseeable future was nearly irresistible. It was of course not an option for the ship’s captain.

Doctor Ashley Wenera stood with Lieutenant Lif Culsten, Lieutenant Trinik, Lieutenant Lance Stiller and Ensign Srena ch’ Trenmvec near the main viewer, slightly separated from the others they also stood at attention.

The view screen showed another familiar face. Captain Amaya Donners stood in front of her seat on the bridge of Agamemnon, patiently waiting for Owens to complete his short journey.

She only spoke once he had arrived in front of his own chair. “Michael, it is good to see you again,” she said somewhat formally. She of course knew by now much of what had transpired on the planet. While she would never learn the details of Owens’ encounter with the Jem’Hadar she was aware of the losses he and Eagle had taken on this day. “Please allow me to offer my condolences.”

“Thank you, Captain,” he said not even noticing that he had not called her by name. “I understand we are in you debt. Without your assistance Eagle would not have survived.”

“I cannot take all the credit,” she said and looked to her right where she spotted the officers who had manned Eagle in Owens’ absence. “In fact it is safe to say that it was your valiant crew who saved not only your ship but mine as well. If you are looking for heroes, they are amongst your midst.”

Owens nodded slowly and gave Culsten an appreciative nod before facing his colleague on the Agamemnon again. “I will make sure that they will receive the commendations they deserve.”

“As will I,” replied Donners and paused momentarily, regarding her old Academy friend. He felt distant to her, almost like a stranger. “We have received new orders from Command,” she finally continued. “Agamemnon is to head to Starbase 375 to take part in a possible counter offensive against Dominion forces. But first we will tow you to a repair facility.”

“Understood. Please stand by for our signal. Owens out.”

With that Donners disappeared from the view screen.

The captain turned towards Lif Culsten. “Lieutenant we all owe you a debt of gratitude for what you have accomplished today. You went far beyond what anyone could have expected from you.”

“Thank you, sir,” he replied, maintaining his firm posture. “But I would have been unable to accomplish anything without the extraordinary dedication of the officers under my command.”

“Humility doesn’t suit you, Lieutenant,” Owens said with a small smile. “But it is duly noted. Please accept my personal thanks for keeping my ship in one piece. All of you.”

Culsten, Srena, Wenera and Stiller radiated with pride. Trinik simply nodded curtly at Owens’ words.

The captain turned around to look at the officers who had been on Epsilon Twelve with him. “As for you,” he began. “Each and every one of you displayed courage and strength I would not have thought possible. I want to make it absolutely clear that without all of your combined efforts we would not have managed to come out of this one alive. I don’t know how much of what happened on this planet will ever become public knowledge but I know with certainty that there will be at least one song that will be sung in your honor,” Owens said and then looked at the Klingon warrior who quickly nodded with agreement. With no doubt he was already working on the lyrics which would feature the impossible victory of one Klingon and a handful of Starfleet officers against a seemingly undefeatable changeling and an army of Jem’Hadar.

Owens was pretty sure the Federation would want to classify everything to do with Archangel and Epsilon Twelve, especially since their risky experiment had ended in such devastating failure. But no matter how secret they intended to keep this entire affair, Owens and his people would never forget what had happened here. As for Owens, to forget would have been a blessing that would never become reality.

“Stations,” Owens said and watched as his senior officers broke ranks and quickly took their positions around the bridge. Those who had no place to go stood at-ease and remained on deck.

Michael Owens slowly took his chair and looked at the view screen which displayed the red planet which was Ligos IV. It was one of the single worst images he had ever perceived and yet it would remain burnt in his memory for the rest of his life. It had given him nothing but pain and suffering. It had taken their blood and their lives and he knew that he would never ever return to this place as long as he was alive.

“Mister Culsten, signal the Agamemnon that we stand ready to depart,” he said. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Seconds later Eagle shuddered slightly as it was taken into a tractor beam by the Agamemnon. The smaller ship managed to accelerate to a low warp factor, keeping Eagle safely at her side.

On the view screen Ligos IV quickly moved away until only the system’s star remained visible. The bright sun began to diminish as well and soon it was nothing more than a tiny dot amongst a billion others littering the sheer vastness of space. Seemingly completely and utterly insignificant, for Michael Owens it would for always and forever be a reminder of terrible loss and insufferable anguish.



BEYOND THE RIM OF STAR-LIGHT
MY LOVE IS WAND’ RING IN STAR FLIGHT
I KNOW HE'LL FIND IN STAR-CLUSTERED REACHES
LOVE, STRANGE LOVE A STAR WOMAN TEACHES
I KNOW HIS JOURNEY ENDS NEVER
HIS STAR TREK WILL GO ON FOREVER.
BUT TELL HIM WHILE HE WANDERS HIS STARRY SEA
REMEMBER, REMEMBER ME.

"THE THEME FROM ‘STAR TREK’"
By Gene Roddenberry


the adventures will continue …

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Re: Epilogue

An ending that was both somber and hopeful. The Eagle and her officers and crew have gone through their test of fire. Some made it...others weren't so fortunate...with even the survivors bearing scars both physical and emotional. With growth comes pain and this story saw a lot of growth on the part of Captain Owens and his people.

Very well done!

 

Re: Epilogue

Thanks, David.

It's hard to believe I finally finished posting this monstrosity. It feels it's been going on forever. I'm both happy and sad that it's over.

The story is now also available on the Star Eagle Adventures Website. Also available as downloadable Word file or as PDF e-book.