The Star Eagle Adventures III: Cry Havoc

[CeJay]

Chapter XVII - Deliverance

Chapter XVII – Deliverance


It had been nothing less than unbearable to sit by quietly while his fellow officer – his friend – would take her own life. Maybe it would have been easier – maybe it would have made a difference if it hadn’t been Srena he had to watch sacrificing herself. He had become quite fond of the younger woman perhaps because she reminded him so much of himself when he had begun his own Starfleet career. She had the same zest, the same high-spirit and even the cockiness which had defined himself not so long ago.

He simply could not stomach to sit idly by while she would throw away her life just because she happened to be in the shuttle that was less damaged.

With a sudden impulse of speed and dedication Lif Culsten hadn’t thought possible he had begun to revisit the damaged components of his own small vessel to find a way – any way – to get the shuttle moving again.

He found the solution within a few seconds. Diverting all of what little power remained, including life support, he managed to fire up his starboard impulse engine and quickly after was limping off to follow Srena’s kamikaze run.

However the speed he managed to coax out of the battered engines was nowhere fast enough to catch up with Srena’s super accelerated Raptor.

Her ship was now seconds away from impacting with the Jem’Hadar attack vessel and there was nothing more he could do about it. His eyes were glued to the sight of impending disaster that he didn’t even notice the indicator light on his console; the proximity alert.

Only after a massive shadow fell over the shuttle, nearly drowning the small cockpit into darkness, did Culsten realize that they were no longer alone. He ducked instinctively when the large shape shot past overhead at very close range. It was too close to make out clearly at first. Once the ship had gained some distance again he recognized the shape. It was long and sleek with telling blue-colored and down-ward sweeping warp nacelles.

It was a Starfleet ship and he instantly knew which one. He had fought at her side before. Now the majestic Akira-class vessel shot towards the Jem’Hadar ship like an arrow, beginning to blast it with its phasers and torpedoes.

The enemy attack ship didn’t stand a chance at the concentrated fire power. They had seemingly been too focused to finish off the faltering Eagle to pay much attention to the possibility of an unlikely rescue attempt. Now they tried desperately to roll away from the incoming onslaught with little success.

Culsten’s eyes remained fixed on the tiny speck of a ship which was still on collision course with the Jem’Hadar vessel. “Come on, Srena,” he whispered. “Back off.”

But the small Raptor refused to comply with his bidding. He didn’t know why but he could imagine multiple possibilities. Srena might have engaged the autopilot or perhaps her equally damaged craft was now refusing her own commands.

The Krellonian officer brought down his fist hard on his console. He could not bare the idea of the Andorian pilot losing her life for nothing and at the moment it appeared that was exactly what was going to happen.

The Agamemnon was fast but with only heartbeats separating Srena’s shuttle and the Jem’Hadar vessel it was not fast enough to avoid the catastrophe that was to ensue.

Then suddenly, a blue energy beam shot out from the newly arrived Starfleet ship, reaching out for the kamikaze Raptor. It grappled the vessel tightly and pulled it back from its target. With the shuttle losing speed and momentum, Agamemnon shot past Raptor two and closed in for the kill.

And then, just like that, it was all over. The Jem’Hadar ship broke apart under the immense fire power of the Starfleet vessel and ceased to be a threat to anyone. Agamemnon released the tractor beam, holding the small shuttle and began to approach Eagle which had slowed down and was beginning to turn in anticipation of the rendezvous.

A large gasp of relief escaped Lif Culsten lips as he fell back into the pilot’s chair. Only now did he realize that his heart had been pounding so fast that it hurt his chest. It finally slowed down and for the first time in a few hours he allowed himself to relax as he slowly steered the shuttle towards the two starships now waiting for him.


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

 

[CeJay]

Re: Chapter XVII - Deliverance

A powerful shockwave had flattened Nora and everyone around her almost instantly. The Bajoran of course had been excepting some sort of move from Monroe ever since she had realized that she was a changeling, however she could not have anticipated the attack coming from an entirely different direction.

The massive explosion had ripped a large hole into one of the walls of the underground lab with such immense force and noise that nobody had managed to remain on their feet.

Dust and debris was beginning to fill the chamber but fortunately nobody had stood near the imploded wall segment.

It was Owens and Tren who were first on the scene, rushing out from the adjacent infirmary with rifles at the ready. They froze as they noticed the gapping hole that now interrupted the formerly smooth white wall. It was all too obvious what it meant. The Jem’Hadar had found a way in. And both Owens and Tren were well aware that they were in no condition to offer much resistance.

Ensign McAllister stumbled back onto his feet before the others. Still dazed he looked toward the ripped wall but could see little through the dense red dust. He found the officers around him all stunned but uninjured. When he spotted the captain and Tren he looked at them for guidance.

“Get ready to defend yourselves!” Owens shouted and brought up his phaser rifle. “Find cover now!”

McAllister nodded, helped two others back onto their feet before scrambling for the nearest console to get out of the open where he presented an easy target. He was followed by most of the other armed officers.

The scientists who didn’t posses weapons were swiftly rushed out of the chamber by Deen and Xylion.

When Nora Laas got onto her feet she did not dart away like the others. Instead she remained firmly in place, calmly surveying her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was not the fact that the chamber had been breached but that Shelby Monroe was gone. The chair had fallen over but was empty. The security chief had a good idea how she had managed to free herself from the restraints.

“Laas, get down!”

Nora turned to see Owens crouched behind a bank of computer stations, his rifle pointed at the opening at the other side. When she looked towards the hole she instantly recognized figures beginning to take shape in the dust.

She didn’t hesitate another second. She firmly gripped her phaser rifle and charged.

“What is she thinking?” asked Tren, who had taken position next to Owens, with bewilderment.

“She isn't. Not anymore,” the captain replied as he watched his chief of security rushing the enemy head on. He could not open fire with her in the way.

The Bajoran had a clear line of fire however and did not wait for the enemy to come to her. She blasted away even while charging forward. The first figure dropped instantly. The next one was already too close for her to use the phaser however and she simply jumped him, using the butt of her rifle like a bat and aiming it at his head.

The impact was so forceful that the phaser deformed slightly but not after shattering the Jem’Hadar’s skull.

Only then did she realize that she had not thought her tactic through. She was suddenly surrounded by enemy soldiers, some of which recognized her for the enemy even through the still settling dust.

She managed to take on another one by plowing her elbow into his face but then found herself with nowhere to go and an increasing number of Jem’Hadar bearing down on her. She didn’t know what had come over her. She had violated the most basic rules of combat, giving up any kind of fortified position to meet the enemy alone and with no strategic advantage. It was without doubt the most foolish decision she had ever made and it was going to cost her nothing less than her life.

She had resigned herself to this fate when she stretched out her arms as far as she could and charged towards the nearest pair of Jem’Hadar like a bird of prey, dead set to use her body as a weapon. Maybe she was going to be able to take them down but after that she would be an easy target for whoever decided to point his weapon at her.

Owens and the others back in the lab had lost eye contact with Nora. She had become a blur inside the dust, indistinguishable from the enemy. He had considered for a moment to take the few remaining men he had and follow her. He had dismissed it quickly. He would not sacrifice all that was left because of Nora’s foolishness.

And then finally the first Jem’Hadar soldiers emerged, roaring loudly as they swarmed into the chamber.

Owens squeezed the trigger of his weapon, fully aware that any shots that missed could potentially end up hitting his security chief. He saw no choice. She might have bought them a few seconds but now it was about the survival of the Federation. If sacrifices had to be made then so be it.

The others in the lab joined in, firing madly at the approaching enemy horde. The Jem’Hadar returned fire but somehow their entire attack seemed to lack coordination. They landed a handful of direct hits but it became quickly apparent that they did not have the numbers to take the chamber by force.

Owens ignored the few shouts of pain coming from his own ranks and concentrated on cutting down the enemy. They fell one by one and within a few moments it was over. They had seemingly and impossibly held their position.



Nora Laas’ body ached horribly. The wounds she had suffered earlier had now returned and she was bleeding freely from multiple scratches all over her body. But above all else she was angry. She was now deep within the dust cloud – which still refused to clear completely – but no more enemies seemed to remain. Many had passed her by in a mad rush to get into the chamber behind her, possibly not even noticing her presence at all. The few she had slain now lay close to her feet. She wanted more. She wanted to feel more; more pain, more anger, more everything.

“Is that it? Is this all you’ve got?” she shouted into the emptiness. “I’m still standing!”

She got her wish. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted sudden movement and she knew it was coming her way. Fast. Even while she turned to face the Jem’Hadar, in the back of her mind she knew that her luck was about to run out. She raised her fists – she had lost her weapons earlier – to take him on mano-a-mano. She spotted the gleaming metal of a polearm blade aimed at her midsection. It was too late to formulate a proper counter-attack. She didn’t have to.

Another body shot out from somewhere unseen, grabbed the body of the Jem’Hadar and pushed him to the ground before he could reach Nora.

A short struggle ensued where both of them had landed. Then a short phaser burst ended all movement.

It was only then that the dust had finally given way sufficiently to make out her surroundings more clearly. The Jem’Hadar who had attacked her now lay motionless on the ground, dead. A Klingon was lying on top of him but was already building himself up again. He had a large frown on his face.

Above both of them stood So’Dan Leva, his arm outstretched and holding a standard phaser which was still pointed at the lifeless body of the Dominion soldier.

“There was no need for that,” D’Karr growled at Leva as he stood back onto his feet. “I was about to break his neck,” he added with almost childish disappointment.

Leva tugged away the weapon and shrugged his shoulders slightly. “Don’t thank me then,” he said and looked at Nora, his face lightening up. “Laas, are you alright?”

She looked at him with empty eyes. She had not expected this. Any of this. Not to find Leva or D’Karr, not to defeat the Jem’Hadar this easily and certainly not to be still alive.

The half-Romulan approached her carefully. “Laas, it’s alright,” he said. “That’s the last of them.”

She looked around and realized his statement to be true. All the Jem’Hadar were dead. She could see Owens and the others back in the lab now coming out from behind their covers. She herself stood in what looked like a mining chamber.

“For now,” D’Karr added. “There are plenty more were these came from.” A smile returned onto his lips as he already began to contemplate his next encounter with the enemy.

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

 

[DavidFalkayn]

Re: Chapter XVII - Deliverance

When Laas goes berserk, she doesn't mess around, does she? To be honest, I was kind of hoping you would have killed off S'rena--but I figure you've still got uses for the character; and as for Culsten, he now has to do some serious thinking about whether command is something he truly wants now that he's had a taste of it. And it looks like Laas was right about Monroe--now they've got to track the shifter down before it can do what it came there to do. The clock is ticking...

 

[CeJay]

Re: Chapter XVII - Deliverance

Lif Culsten stepped onto the bridge, still feeling weak in his knees from the experiences of the last few minutes during which he had lost one officer under his command and come within a hair's length of losing another. He was being taught the hard lessons of command at breakneck speeds and he was no longer sure if he was going to manage to keep up. The things he had seen and done differed greatly from the way he had ever imagined his first command position to unfold.

Doctor Wenera practically jumped out of the captain’s chair when she spotted the young Krellonian enter. “Lif, thank the heavens you’re alright,” she said and approached quickly with an expression of unmistakable relief on her face.

“I’m fine, doc. How are things here?” he asked, surprising himself with the tranquility in his voice.

She sadly shook her head. “We’ve taken a lot of damage,” she replied and turned to look at Lieutenant Trinik at tactical. He had a few green streaks on his face evidence that he had been injured during the battle with the Jem’Hadar, probably by loose debris.

Stiller looked also quiet banged up but was nevertheless diligently attending to his console.

Wenera looked back at the acting captain. “We have a lot of injured. At least thirty-five from initial reports. Three fatalities.”

Culsten acknowledged her report with a short nod. He could see in her eyes that she wanted to leave and head for sickbay and help treating those who needed her care. That was after all where she belonged, not up here on the bridge, leading a starship into battle. But Culsten now realized more than ever that in times of war, everybody had to be able to do everything, no matter how difficult or inconvenient.

“Sir, the Agamemnon is hailing us,” reported the Vulcan tactical officer.

Culsten exchanged a quick look with the doctor. He wasn’t surprised that their rescuer wanted to speak to them of course but he wasn’t entirely sure how to handle this situation. How would Donners react to find him, a junior officer in command?

“On screen,” he said finally.

The image of Agamemnon’s sharp lines was replaced by that of her captain. Amaya Donners sat comfortably in her chair, radiating confidence and yet somehow managing to look very unthreatening as if she was perfectly willing to be everybody’s best friend without question. Her relaxed expression tensed slightly when she noticed Lif Culsten answering her call, not exactly who she had been expecting.

“Eagle do you require any assistance?” she asked after a moment of hesitation in which she had apparently reconsidered her first words.

“You have provided us with all the help we needed, sir,” Culsten replied. “And not a moment too late. We are deeply in your debt.”

Donners full lips curled upwards. “Consider us even,” she said but her face quickly become more serious. “Are you in command, Lieutenant?”

Now it was Culsten who hesitated. For some reason he had momentarily lost his voice. “Yes,” he stated once he had regained it. “The entire command crew is stranded on the fourth planet on this system. We’ve been trying to rescue them when we were ambushed by a number of Jem’Hadar vessels.”

The captain listened thoughtfully. “I see,” she said. “How many Jem’Hadar have you encountered in this system?”

“Four attack ships,” Culsten answered. “The one you destroyed was the last one,” he said and then added. “I hope.”

Donners seemed impressed. “You have done exceedingly well under the circumstances.”

The Krellonian smiled at the compliment but not too much. The sacrifices had been high and he did not feel like celebrating. At least not until they had recovered the away team. “Thank you, sir, but our job is not yet done.”

The dark-haired captain understood. “We will assist you to attempt and rescue –“

Donners cut herself off in mid-sentence causing Culsten to exchange a worried look with Wenera.

The Krellonian looked back at Donners. “Something wrong, sir?”

She raised a hand in his direction, seemingly distracted by some of her crewmembers. “Stand by, Eagle,” she said and left her chair, walking off screen.

“Sir,” Stiller said suddenly. “We have a sensor contact, two-seven-one mark four-five.”

Both the acting captain and the doctor stepped up to the operations officer to look over his shoulders and onto the console.

“What is it?” asked Wenera.

Stiller shook his head. “We have taken significant damage to sensors. I can’t get a clear signal.”

“Eagle, we’re sending you our sensor feed now,” said Donners, prompting all eyes on Eagle’s bridge to dart back towards the screen.

The image changed to show the crimson-hued planet that was Ligos IV and a small object that had appeared in close proximity. When the image was magnified it became painfully obvious that the object in the planets’ orbit was not small by any measure. In fact quite the opposite was true.

“It would appear that you have missed one,” commented Donners voice as the image zoomed in close enough to allow for more details. It was without a shadow of a doubt a Jem’Hadar ship. But this one was nothing like the vessels Eagle had encountered previously.

“It’s a Jem’Hadar battle cruiser,” she added in a reverent yet worried tone of voice. “Our sensors have detected it lifting off the planet’s surface a few moments ago. It is now on an intercept course.”

Culsten simply stared at the discouraging sight, unable to speak. He had prayed that the worst lay behind them. He had been wrong. His tactical knowledge of Jem’Hadar vessels was limited but he understood that Eagle would not be able to survive an attack by a vessel of that size. In fact the starship had never encounter a Jem’Hadar battle cruiser before and even with a fully combat-ready Agamemnon at their side, their chances, he figured, were abysmal at best.

Wenera managed to ask the most important question. “How long?”

“At their current speed they’ll be in weapon’s range in twenty-three minutes. I suggest we withdraw immediately. What is the status of your warp drive?”

Donners suggestion shook Culsten out of his perplexed state. “Unavailable. With all due respect, sir,” he said and could hardly believe his next words. “I do not want to leave Captain Owens and the others behind. There must be another option.”

The dark-skinned captain’s face reappeared on the view screen and she regarded the young officer for a moment. “The only other option is that we stay and fight. But your ship is hardly in any condition for that scenario.”

“Perhaps,” Culsten said, “you could spare some repair teams. In twenty minutes we might be able to get some of our weapons and shields back online,” he added in a tone of voice much less firmer than he had hoped. He had diverted his eyes from Donners but when he faced her once more he found her smiling.

“You have guts, I give you that,” she said but continued with a more stern expression. “But are you sure that you are willing to put your ship and crew in danger like this?”

Culsten considered that for a moment. She made a very decent point except for one thing. “Sir, we’ve been in danger since the moment we’ve entered this system. If we run we’ll be an easier target. I say we stay and fight,” he said, this time his voice showing no signs of insecurity.

Donners nodded firmly. “I’ll have repair teams sent over right away,” she said and then leaned forward in her chair. “Lieutenant, I’ll also be able to spare my first officer. He is a well experienced combat officer.”

The junior lieutenant knew immediately what she was implying. He didn’t answer right away. Instead he looked at Wenera. She could tell from the look in his eyes that he was struggling with that decision. The responsibility over Eagle and all her crew was weighing so heavily on his shoulders it was threatening to cripple him. But it was still his command and he did not want to give it up. Especially not now after all they had been through.

The doctor stepped up next to Culsten. “Sir, I think I speak for the entire crew if I say that under the current circumstances we could not wish for a better leader than the lieutenant here. He has kept us alive this long and we are convinced he will continue to do so.”

Culsten couldn’t avoid swallowing. He looked around the bridge. They were all looking his way now, none of them with the slightest hint of doubt in their eyes. They stood behind him, they trusted him.

“You have inspired a great deal of confidence in your crew,” Donners said. “But it is your decision to make.”

He locked eyes with Amaya Donners. “I will remain in command of this ship.”

She nodded. “Very well. I will confer with you in ten minutes concerning our plan of engagement.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“Good luck … Captain,” she said with a smile. “Agamemnon out.”

Her image vanished from the main screen.

He couldn’t suppress his own smile. The situation both Eagle and Donners’ ship were facing could potentially spell the end to all their lives, he realized that all too well. And yet he couldn’t deny another fact. It had been the first time he had been called captain and he liked the sound of it.

He knew they didn’t have much time and he quickly turned to the doctor. “This might become very ugly,” he said. “Perhaps you should return to sickbay.”

She nodded at him and turned to leave.

“Doc?”

She stopped, looking back at him.

“Thanks.”

Wenera approached him again and put a hand on his upper arm. “You’ll get us through this, Lif. I know you will.”


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

 

[CeJay]

Re: Chapter XVII - Deliverance

The end had not come. Not yet. They had been spared one more time but Michael Owens was certain that their miracles were running out fast. A notion that was fully confirmed when So’Dan Leva and Lieutenant D’Karr had informed him that anywhere between forty and a hundred additional Jem’Hadar soldiers were still located throughout the complex mine. The plan had been for the Marines to distract them long enough for the two of them to try and gain access to the outpost, which they had achieved through very unorthodox and unexpected means. As to what the fate of the Marines had been they did not know.

It did not go unnoticed by the captain that the Romulan and the Klingon had worked hand-in-hand to come to their rescue and defeat the Jem’Hadar who had attempted to storm the underground lab. It seemed they had overcome their previous issues or at least postponed them. Owens was relieved. If there was one thing he didn’t need it was another conflict to deal with.

“What are our chances to getting to the surface through the mines?” Owens asked his half-Romulan tactical officer.

Leva looked around, taking stock of the survivors which mostly seemed to consist of frightened scientists and civilians. “It’s a long way to get to the top and we’re bound to run into the Jem’Hadar sooner or later. The tunnels are dark, steep and narrow. If we try to get all these people through there I foresee a bloodbath,” he explained quietly as not to unnecessarily startle the men and women he was speaking about.

“We can’t stay here either,” Jana Tren replied. “Eventually those Jem’Hadar you managed to distract will come back and we won’t be in any position to defend this place now.”

The captain looked at Tren before his eyes wandered towards Archangel, still pulsating with a steady red light. It had escaped entirely unharmed from the recent attack and Owens knew all too well why. The Dominion wanted to ensure the device’s survival as much as the Federation. And so they would keep fighting for it until the last man standing could lay claim over it and with it; victory. And not just on this remote world but on a much grander and horrendous stage.

Owens spotted the Vulcan science officer, counting the dead and wounded. “Commander, what is our current status?”

“Two Starfleet crewman and one scientist have been killed,” he answered promptly. “This leaves us with nine Starfleet personnel and twenty-three civilians.”

The captain acknowledged with a nod. “Injuries?”

“None of which are serious. However,” he said and indicated towards a nearby wall.

Owens looked into the direction and found Epsilon Twelve’s first officer crouched on the floor, holding her right shoulder. He had not noticed her until now as she had apparently decided to keep a low profile after the treatment she had received earlier. She was clearly in pain however. Owens couldn’t tell if she had received her injuries during the attack or possibly before. In fact only now did he remember the test she had been subjected to.

“Commander Monroe seems to have been wounded,” the Vulcan explained after an uncharacteristically long pause.

“Commander?” he asked, taking a small and careful step towards her. “How serious are your injuries?”

She raised her head very slowly, staring blankly at Owens but didn’t speak.

The captain looked at his officers around him. “What happened to her?”

Deen simply shook her head.

“We have not been able to establish if she is a shapeshifter,” Doctor Santesh-Yardo explained. “Our tests were interrupted.”

Michael Owens looked at him with a quizzical expression. He knew instantly that he was holding something back. And it wasn’t just him. Nobody seemed eager to completely shed light on the events which had transpired in his absence.

Nora had not spoken since the attack but now she looked straight at Owens, the fire returning to her eyes. “How could she have gotten out of those restraints?” she said and pointed at the chair Monroe had been tied to earlier. “She has to be.”

Tren took a step towards Shelby Monroe but didn’t dare to get too close. In fact everyone was keeping a respectable distance to the now helpless looking young woman. She was a mess. Her formally well groomed hair had come loose and was hanging into her face which was wet and dirty from extreme perspiration and her uniform was untidy and torn in many places. “She needs medical attention,” she concluded softly.

Nora looked at her with utter astonishment.

But the Betazoid ignored the security officer and focused on Owens instead. Jana Tren had lost the intensity that had defined her over the course of the last few days. Instead she looked tired and exhausted. She also appeared to have gained a genuine concern for Monroe

Owens nodded and faced the disheveled officer. “Commander, can you make it to the infirmary?”

She didn’t respond. Instead she simply kept her empty eyes on the captain almost as if she could no longer understand what he was saying.

“I’ll take her,” Nora said with resignation in her voice. She had not given up on her conviction that Monroe was a changeling but she could sense that the others were beginning to doubt it and it was exactly that kind of thinking that would make her even more dangerous. She decided that she would keep her eyes on her no matter what. With her phaser pointed at Monroe she slowly approached. “Get up.”

When Monroe didn’t seem to react, Nora decided to pull her onto her feet.

“Get your damn hands off me!” Monroe suddenly shouted and stood.

It had come so sudden that even the Bajoran security chief had flinched. She took a small step back but instantly took aim with her weapon.

“I’m not going anywhere with that maniac!” she shouted at Owens, not giving the Bajoran a single look. “You want to shoot me? Go ahead!”

“Nobody wants to shoot you,” Tren offered.

Monroe shot the Betazoid a hateful look before focusing back on Owens, apparently waiting for him to make up his mind.

He nodded slowly. “Very well,” he said and looked around, finding Germaine McAllister. “Ensign, please escort the commander to the infirmary.”

The young officer stepped forward but froze when Nora began to protest. “Sir, I am not letting her out of my sight again!” she insisted with a ferocity rivaling Monroe’s. “If it wants to die,” she added and looked back at Monroe, raising her rifle. “I’ll be happy to oblige.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Monroe shot back. “I’d gladly die if it would send you to rot in a penal colony for the rest of your miserable life!” Monroe stepped closer towards Nora, now entirely unafraid of the close proximity to the deadly rifle that was still aimed at her chest.

“Lieutenant!” Owens said furiously, unable to believe his trusted security officer was able of such unwarranted aggression.

But neither Nora nor Monroe seemed to take notice of the captain’s increasing anger. Instead they simply looked at each other, like mortal enemies stuck together against their will, waiting for the chance to end it all by killing each other.

Owens had enough. He stepped up behind Nora, grabbed her shoulder and pushed her back and away from Monroe. “Ensign, take Commander Monroe to the infirmary now!”

“Yes, sir!” the bald officer said and carefully stepped closer, indicating for Mornoe to head towards the doors. He kept his distance and held his own rifle at the ready.

Monroe tore herself away from her nemesis and with determined steps walked out of the chamber, followed by the McAllister.

Owens withdrew his hands from Nora but noticed that her eyes had remained fixed on Monroe until the very second she had disappeared. They remained glued to the now closed doors instead of paying attention to him. “Are you alright, Lieutenant?”

She nodded absentmindedly still refusing to make eye contact. “Yes but I don’t trust –“

The captain cut her off harshly. “No,” he said. “Are you alright, Lieutenant?”

Only now did she look at the captain, realizing that his expression was neither of concern nor sympathy. He was angry and he was angry at her. He was not interested how she felt. He wanted her unquestionable obedience and nothing else. It had been the first time she had failed to provide it.

She said nothing.

“Laas,” he finally said in a softer tone which was too quiet for anyone but her to pick up. “I know what you have been through today and believe me when I say that I wish for nothing more than for it to be undone. But it isn’t possible and therefore I will need you to hold together just a little while longer. Do you understand?”

She nodded, hesitantly and without uttering a word.

“Are you with me?” he asked not willing to let it go.

“Yes, sir,” she said with a firm tone in her voice.

“Good. I want you, Leva and D’Karr to take positions outside the lab. Keep your eyes open for anymore Jem’Hadar coming this way,” he said and waited patiently for her to set in motion.

He continued to watch as the half-Romulan nodded shortly and took the lead. He was followed by D’Karr and Nora shortly after.

Owens let a small sigh escape his lips and then rejoined Tren and Santesh-Yardo. Xylion, Hopkins and Deen also stayed close. “We need a plan to get out of here and we need it quickly,” he captain said as if nothing had happened.

“Our chances are bad no matter what we do,” Tren replied, also willing to forget the entire episode for now. “I don’t see an easy way out of this.”

Michael Owens looked back at Archangel. “Perhaps there is a way to even the odds.”


------------------------------
Stay tuned for Chapter XVIII - Vengeance

 

[DavidFalkayn]

Re: Chapter XVII - Deliverance

The questions are still there as regards Monroe--I'm actually hoping she isn't the shapeshifter and that you might have a bigger role for her in future episodes--she and Laas have developed a most marked mutual antagonism--one might say enmity and I'd hate for that to end.

Culsten has grown up a lot here. He's learned both the exultation and despair of command. Maybe he'll go on and maybe not, but regardless of anything else, he's a man now.

 

[CeJay]

Re: Chapter XVII - Deliverance

Thanks for sticking with this David. Readership seems to have fallen off recently and I take this as a sign that most readers might not like the direction the story has taken. (Or maybe it has just gotten way too long)

As for Srena, I didn't kill her off (yet?) as I thought Culsten was in desperate need for a break. Also I had taken a liking to the character (always bad if you are the writer, makes you somewhat subjective).

And for Monroe ... well we have to see how that's going to pan out.

Thanks again for your continued feedback.

 

[Captain2395]

Re: Chapter XVII - Deliverance

Hi CeJay

The fic is long and so whilt I prefer the novel style it does take time to catch up after an absence from the boards. It is not a reflection on your story or direction.

I'm enjoyng the ongoing plot revolving around a shapeshifter. Curious as to how Owens evens the odds.

I can also sympathise with your characters growing on you. To me it's a good sign that they are more believable and realistic.

 

[Dulak]

Re: Chapter XVII - Deliverance

Please, I am still reading....but catching up on the older stories first, and enjoying them. I think in general the board seems to go through cycles even in the short time I have been on.

So keep writing..

 

[Admiral2]

Re: Chapter XVII - Deliverance

I'm still reading, Ceej. I'm just holding fire on some comments until the situation is resolved.

 

[CeJay]

Chapter XVIII - Vengeance

Chapter XVIII – Vengeance


Nora Laas had taken position just outside the laboratory complex in order to keep a look out for any additional Jem’Hadar forces everybody knew where still somewhere within the mine.

And yet she seemed more interested at observing the lab through the large hole that had been ripped into the wall. She paid little attention to the heated argument that had erupted between Captain Owens, Jana Tren and Doctor Santesh-Yardo.

Instead her focus remained on the closed doors which led to the infirmary and into which Shelby Monroe had disappeared into a short while earlier. She was anxiously awaiting her return, convinced that Monroe – the changeling – was posing a more serious threat to them then all the Jem’Hadar soldiers ever could.

But it now appeared as if nobody was taking the matter seriously anymore, in fact most were only too willing to forget that their earlier tests had been inconclusive. Captain Owens himself had been adamant on the issue, ordering her to back off and leaving Monroe in the care of a young and inexperienced junior officer.

Regardless of his orders Nora had decided to remain vigilant, refusing to be fooled as easily as the others had been.

“Laas?”

She was so dedicated to her concerns regarding the shapeshifter that she didn’t hear the half-Romulan calling out her name.

“Laas?” he repeated, stepping up next to her.

She turned her head to look at him.

The concern in his eyes was not easily missed. “What happened?” he asked softly.

“We were attacked,” she replied without giving the question any thought and turned away again to continue to observe the doors from a distance.

“I mean to Gene.”

Nora barely acknowledged the Romulan but the mention of his name made her feel queasy. She hadn’t thought much about what had happened to him, she had been too preoccupied with dealing with their current situation and could not allow herself to be distracted. She could not let her guard down, not even for a second or at least that was what she continued to tell herself. “He was killed,” she said simply, her eyes never leaving those doors.

Leva nodded slowly, unable to hide the sadness he felt over the loss of Eugene Edison. Even more he felt ashamed when he remembered his last conversation with the first officer. He had acted foolishly and obviously disappointed him. But he was certain Nora Laas felt much worse. He knew that they had felt for each other deeply even if they had tried to hide it. “It was the changeling, wasn’t it?”

Nora didn’t answer and Leva took it as confirmation.

“Losing a mate in battle is a challenge equal in measure to the challenge of battle itself.”

D’Karr’s statement promoted Nora to turn to him and look straight into the Klingon’s eyes.

“But you should rejoice in the knowledge that he will be waiting in the after-life, prepared to be at your side once more when you are ready to join him,” he continued.

The Bajoran simply looked at him not sure how to reply to what he had said. She did not know how he knew about her relationship with the late first officer. And while his words seemed to make sense to her she did not appreciate his input on this matter. Nora had no desire to speak about any of this and so simply turned away once more.

“How long has she been gone?” she asked moments later.

“Who?” Leva asked.

“It’s been too long,” Nora continued, speaking to herself. “Her injuries were not that extensive.”

Leva and D’Karr exchanged a quick glance, unsure how to respond.

The security chief took action before they could. “Cover for me,” she said quickly and walked back towards the lab. “I’ll be right back.”

Leva wanted to protest but it was too late.

She made no special effort but managed to remain unseen by Owens when she stepped back into the laboratory and towards the infirmary doors.

Louise Hopkins noticed however. Her eyes opened wide and for a moment she considered letting the captain now what Nora was up to. But a stern look from the Bajoran changed her mind and she decided to turn a blind eye instead.

The security chief slipped through the doors and found a small hallway behind them. The ancillary facilities were not very extensive and she quickly located the entrance to the infirmary.

The room was separated into two sections, divided by a semi-transparent screen. Ensign McAllister greeted her in the entry area.

“Lieutenant?” he said, surprised to see her.

“Where is Monroe?” she asked immediately.

“She’s in the ward,” he responded with rising anxiety in his tone. “I gave her some privacy so she could treat her wounds. To be honest I think she might have fallen asleep.”

Nora couldn’t believe her ears. “I’m surprised you didn’t,” she shot back, glaring at him.

McAllister tried to regain some of his composure, obviously embarrassed now.

She dismissed him with a wave of her hand and stepped up to the partition. The ward behind the screen consisted out of two beds, one of which occupied with Shelby Monroe. She lay quietly on her back, her eyes closed and a few used medical supplies nearby.

Nora Laas could hardly believe it. She raised her phaser rifle. “Monroe,” she said loudly, approaching her with small steps.

She did not react.

The security officer wasn’t going to take any chances. “Get up!” she said loudly and when she still didn’t get a response, she began to poke her with the emitter of the rifle.

“What’s wrong?” asked McAllister who had appeared by the partition.

Nora ignored him. “You’re not fooling anyone,” she said. “Get up now or I’ll disintegrate you right here.”

Only then did she realize that something was very wrong. Monroe’s chest was perfectly still, she wasn’t breathing. Of course a changeling didn’t need to breathe.

She threw caution to the wind, lowered her rifle and approached the bed. Her fingers quickly darted for Monroe’s neck but she was unable to locate a pulse. Then she noticed that her throat was discolored. There were obvious deep red marks across her neck. It didn’t make sense to her. If she was a changeling why was she pretending to be dead? What kind of trick was this?

She whipped around, seeing McAllister still standing behind her. He mirrored her confused expression. “She’s dead,” she said.

“What?” But his state of confusion didn’t last long.

Even while Nora began to level her rifle at him she knew she was going to be too slow.

McAllister fired at Nora who desperately attempted to avoid the incoming blast. She was of course no match for the speed of a phaser beam which connected with her shoulder blade even as she tried to dive away. The impact pushed her backwards. She ignored the stinging pain shooting through her body and managed to hold on to her own rifle. She jumped for cover just before McAllister could fire again and finish the job.

The blast shattered a number of empty beakers but missed Nora who was now flying towards a large medical cabinet for cover.

Another beam grazed the cabinet, missing her by a hairline.

“It was you!” Nora shouted with boiling anger. Angry that she had been so stupid, that she had exposed herself this easily. Angry that she had not suspected the young officer before. Angry that she had allowed him to shoot her but most of all angry for what that thing had done to Gene.

McAllister laughed as he changed position to get a better shot. “You solids are so predictably paranoid. I couldn’t have hoped for a better course of events.”

Nora listened carefully to his voice and when she thought she had located him, she peaked up and fired. The blast hit the partition, shattering it loudly but missing McAllister. He returned fire instantly but Nora had quickly retreated again.

“But you took on Monroe’s form,” Nora said, mostly in hopes of buying herself some time to figure out how to get out of this mess alive. “Xylion saw you.”

“I took on many forms,” he said calmly as he moved again. “The Bolian, the Vulcan, Monroe, this one. I have to admit that watching you torturing one of your own was the most entertaining event I have ever witnessed,” he continued, broken glass squishing with every step he took.

The Bajoran was gripped by blind rage as she came up to fire into his direction. For a moment she was certain she would hit McAllister but the changeling simply shifted away as if he was made out of nothing but paper, his entire upper body bending in distinctly inhuman ways.

Nora dropped down again fast enough to avoid his rebuttal. The phaser blasts were absorbed by the sturdy cabinet, scorching the surface but unable to penetrate it.

The changeling sighed dramatically. “Your weapons are so primitive, so unreliable.”

Nora heard him discard the rifle and she knew she was in trouble. She needed to move. She sat with her back against the cabinet, intently listening to the changeling’s movement. There was a liquid sound as the shape shifter changed its appearance. She tried to jump onto her feet but was stopped in her tracks. Her eyes sprung wide open when she felt a piercing pain shoot through her back.

She looked down to see the silver spike sticking out of her mid-section, covered in blood. Her blood.

“Monroe was right about one thing,” the changeling said with almost childish glee as it slightly twisted the solid steel tentacle onto which Nora was impaled on. “You will die. But it’ll be me who will kill you.”

It were D’Karr’s last words that went through her mind when she grabbed the spike with both hands in a futile attempt to free herself. Gene was waiting for her. She prayed the Klingon would remain right. Nora Laas would know soon enough.


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

 

[CeJay]

Re: Chapter XVIII - Vengeance

Eagle and Agamemnon’s combined repair teams had accomplished miracles in the extremely short time that had been available to them. Even though working under immense pressure and on a completely inflexible schedule they had managed to bring the battered starship’s shields back to half strength and both phasers and torpedo launchers were mostly fully operational again. There wasn’t nearly enough time to mend the hull breaches, tend to the damaged impulse engines or make the ship warp capable again. In less than twenty minutes Eagle had to swim or sink and that was all there was to it.

Lif Culsten had spent most of that time in the observation room – he could have used the captain’s ready room but he felt that to be inappropriate – and carefully listened to Amaya Donners’ plan of attack. He had spoken very little, leaving all the details of the coming battle to the ranking officer, trying his best to appear professional and reliable in front of the captain of the Agamemnon. After she had laid out their plan of engagement and she had terminated the connection Culsten felt a sudden wave of anxiety come over him. This of course was to be expected when going into battle against a superior enemy. But he had hoped that Donners would have revealed a daringly witty plan which would ensure easy victory over the Jem’Hadar dreadnought. Instead their battle plan was rather straight forward with very few surprises that could shift the fight quickly in their favor. He was worried. Very worried.

However those thoughts momentarily lapsed from his mind when he stepped onto the bridge and found someone waiting there he had not expected to see.

“Srena!” he exclaimed with such sudden euphoria that practically everybody turned to look at him. He didn’t care.

The short Andorian smiled at him as he approached.

Culsten froze for a moment as he spotted those contrasting white teeth against her dark blue lips. Was it appropriate for him to be this welcoming to a person he had only very recently ordered to her own death? Could he pretend it simply had never happened? He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to treat her now.

“With your permission I would like to take my station again,” she said before he could ponder the answers to his own questions. She was still smiling. “I heard you have a big fight coming up. You’ll need me.”

The acting captain nodded slowly and Srena wordlessly relieved the noncom who was currently manning helm. Culsten didn’t miss the fact that she was limping slightly.

He slowly moved to her side, looking down at her with a pained expression on his face.

She noticed. “Don’t tell me you want to sit here instead.”

“Shouldn’t you be in sickbay? I’m sure you were shaken up quite a bit in that shuttle earlier.”

Her expression hardened and she looked back at her station. She had obviously hoped to avoid the subject. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “It’s just my leg and I don’t need that to pilot a starship.”

He suppressed the urge to chuckle at the comment. He had placed his hand firmly on Srena’s headrest but now wanted to move it down onto her shoulder. He resisted that notion as well. When he spoke again he did so with a voice not much louder than a whisper. “Listen about what happened earlier –“

The Andorian looked up at him. “You did what you had to, sir,” she said emphasizing the title. “I know it couldn’t have been easy for you to make that decision.”

He slowly nodded his head but then stopped suddenly. Was Srena really able to be this rational about what had happened? Had she already processed the events which had almost led to her death and was she more equipped to handle them than he was? Only then did he notice the tears swelling up in her bright white eyes. She was holding them back admiringly but refused to look back at him.

Culsten knew it wouldn’t look very professional but that didn’t stop him from leaning down towards her. “I want you to see Trenira when all this is over. I think we both should,” he said, referring to the ship’s resident counselor.

She nodded slowly but didn’t speak. Only when he finally turned away she added quietly: “If we’re still around by then.”

“Sir, the Agamemnon is hailing us,” Trinik announced, cutting off any attempt to reply to the Andorian’s gloomy remark.

“On screen,” he said and faced forward.

Donners came on instantly, her face a stern mask of professionalism. “It’s time.”

Culsten nodded. “We’re ready.”

“God’s speed, Eagle,” she said and cut the transmission.

The Krellonian swallowed but thankfully nobody was watching him. The entire bridge crew was too focused on their instruments to pay him any attention. They had to be or this battle could quiet possibly be their very last.

“Helm, set course zero-two-seven mark one-seven-seven, engage at one quarter impulse.”

Srena acknowledged with a curt nod.

“Divert maximum power to frontal shields, stand by all weapons.”

“Frontal shields at ninety-two percent,” Trinik replied. “Phaser arrays one and two fully operational. Torpedo launcher two ready and loaded.” One frontal launcher had been all the repair teams had been able to make available in the short time available. It would have to do.

As Eagle turned towards Ligos IV and as the massive sight of the Jem’Hadar battleship came into view Culsten once again considered the flaws of Donners’ plan. Without a doubt Eagle would take a serious beating in the battle that was to come. People would die. It was inevitable. But he couldn’t really blame Agamemnon’s captain for that. She had offered him an out after all. Two actually. He had refused both and in the end this meant that he would be responsible for what ever happened next.

“Distance to target: One point two million kilometers and decreasing. We’ll be entering weapons range in two minutes,” Stiller announced with a voice that slightly betrayed his growing anxiety. He had held fast at his position through three battles today. Three more than he had expected when he had gotten out of bed in the morning.

Culsten sat in the captain’s chair as he watched the battleship increasing in size by the second. It was huge, easily three times the size of Eagle and Agamemnon combined. And the other Starfleet ship was not even anywhere in sight. It was a one-on-one now and Eagle was without doubt the underdog.

“You know,” Lance Stiller said, not taking his eyes off the screen. “It’s not too late to turn around.”

He had meant his comment as a joke but nobody was laughing. On the contrary for a moment everybody on the bridge felt as if exactly that was the only logical thing to do.

“Steady as she goes,” Culsten said with ironclad firmness. His eyes narrowed and his brow furled. As far as he was concerned, there was no more going back.


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

 

[CeJay]

Re: Chapter XVIII - Vengeance

“I thought you were opposed to the whole concept of Archangel,” said Jana Tren after Owens had explained his plan. “Didn’t you call it genocide?”

“I don’t condone the use of any weapon designed to wipe out an entire species of people but at the moment it is our only way out of here. And if I understand Doctor Santesh-Yardo correctly we currently do not have enough power to make Archangel effective beyond a very limited range.”

The Grazerite scientist nodded. “If fed by an appropriate power source Archangel is designed to carry electromagnetic waves over a range of thirty to fifty light-years.”

Owens felt a cold shudder run down his spine as Santesh-Yardo explained the potential of this weapon. It truly was a doomsday device.

“But we do not have nearly enough power to accomplish that,” he continued. “At the moment we can only hope for about one percent of that at the most before the electromagnetic waves will deteriorate.”

“That is more than enough,” Owens concluded. “We’ll be getting rid of the Jem’Hadar in the mine, the whole planet even.”

“This entire solar system,” added Louise Hopkins quietly.

The captain looked at her and she quickly diverted her glance. It was more information than Owens had wanted to know. In his eyes no man should posses that kind of power even if it suddenly appeared very convenient.

Is this how it starts? He wondered. Was this how Jana Tren, Santesh-Yardo and all the others who had taken part in developing this machine had thought at first? If you can destroy the enemy next door why not all over the planet? Why not all over the system? Why not all over the cosmos? Where do you stop and draw the line?

“As I pointed out before,” Santesh said, seemingly unperturbed of the implications Owens was pondering. “Even if we get Archangel working we’re still having problems with the wave modulation. We know that it will target the Jem’Hadar genome but we cannot be certain that it will kill them right away.”

“It will affect them negatively that’s for certain,” Tren jumped in. “The waves are designed to break down their DNA on a molecular level. It might not be instantaneous yet but it definitely will give them more than just a little headache. They will not be able to survive for long. I think given our situation we’re better off facing them severely debilitated instead of freshly primed and dead set on seeing us all killed.”

There seemed to be general agreement on this part amongst everyone present.

“Sir?”

It was Xylion who was alerting Owens of the person approaching the group. It was Commander Shelby Monroe. Her injuries were now healed but her uniform was still torn and dried blood and sweat hinted to the toll her body had suffered earlier. And yet she strode confidently towards Owens and the others, alone and unarmed. She ignored the stares as she stepped closer.

“Where is Ensign McAllister?” the captain wanted to now.

Instead of answering the question right away she seized him up first as if she couldn’t believe the audacity of his question. “Believe it or not but he fell asleep in the medical bay. I guess all the events of this damned day finally got to him. Would you like to go check on him?” she said briskly.

Owens was about to reply but she didn’t give him the chance. “With all due respect, Captain, I’m done with your accusations. You and your people have tested and tortured me with vicious intensity and found nothing to implicate me as a changeling. You don’t trust me? Fine. I don’t care. Like all of you I just want to make it out of here alive. Of course if I do I’ll promise you that you’ll wish I hadn’t because I will brief Command on every single gruesome detail that has transpired here. I’m sure they’ll be very interested.”

Michael Owens considered Monroe for a moment. He did not know what exactly Nora had done to her but for now he preferred to remain ignorant. One crisis at a time, he decided.

“Until then, sir, I am still a senior officer of this station and I ask – no – I demand to be included in any plans you are about to make.”

The captain looked at Tren. She seemed more sympathetic to Monroe’s plight and slowly nodded her head.

Owens ignored Monroe, concluding that there was no time to acknowledge her request and instead faced the trio of technical and scientific experts: Santesh-Yardo, Xylion and Hopkins. “I hate the very notion of activating this infernal machine but I see few alternatives. But how can we use Archangel without it blowing up in our faces before it can do its job?”

“Essentially,” Hopkins began slowly, somewhat uncertain of herself now, “we need a computer controlled program that can automatically modulate for the unexpected fluctuations which will rip Archangel apart once it begins to emit the electromagnetic waves.”

“How long would that take?” Tren asked.

“A team of skilled programmers would require approximately four days building a syntax that could understand and react to all eventualities,” the Vulcan explained calmly.

“Obviously we do not have that kind of time,” Owens said. “What is the other option?”

“Manual control,” Xylion said simply.

Santesh shook his head to this. “As I pointed out before, Captain, that will not work. Not for long. The required modulations would become so complex within a few minutes that no man could adjust the system manually.”

“If somebody would manually work the device,” began Monroe, “would that person be able to keep it running long enough to build up the power necessary to destroy the Jem’Hadar and give the others a chance to escape?”

Owens looked at Monroe, surprised at her sudden question. It was a good one however and he turned to Santesh-Yardo for the answer. He seemed very reluctant to provide one. “Doctor?” he insisted, sensing that the time until the next attack was melting away rapidly.

“It’s possible if the operator knows what he’s doing. But it’d be suicide. Archangel would rip apart the instance the modulations become to intricate to handle.”

Nobody spoke. It had become apparent what had to be done. Only one question remained.

Owens decided to be the one to ask it. “Who here would be able to keep Archangel running the longest?”

Silence ensued again. Owens was aware that he would have been the logical choice to stay behind. He was the ranking officer and therefore carried full responsibility for the people under his command. If Epsilon Twelve had been a starship he would not have hesitated to take on that role. But he knew he was completely out of his element here. He didn’t know the first thing about how this machine worked. He would not be able to give the others a realistic chance to clear the mine before it destroyed itself and everything in a two mile radius along with it.

He glanced upon Xylion. The Vulcan was a reasonable choice, he seemed to grasp the concept of how Archangel functioned and he had reflexes and abilities beyond those of most other races. Louise Hopkins was the most talented engineer in the group and had managed to perform miracles on plenty of occasions. He hated the idea of condemning such a young woman to certain death however.

There was one overriding truth that determined his way of thinking. One person seemed to be more familiar with this doomsday device than anybody else present. His eyes came to a rest on the Grazerite scientist.

Santesh-Yardo could read Owens’ thoughts like an open book. “It would have to be me.”


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

 

[Captain2395]

Re: Chapter XVIII - Vengeance

Brilliant! I didn't see it coming but the whole shapeshifter plot twist was pulled off brilliantly. A lot of writers could learn a lot from reading that scene and how it was done.

Can't wait to find out what happens next with the Archangel.

 

[DavidFalkayn]

Re: Chapter XVIII - Vengeance

You've done an excellent job in showing us just how deadly a foe a changeling can be. Eagle and her crew are going to come out of this action limping and battlescarred and with more than a few places empty in the mess hall.

Very well done!

 

[CeJay]

Re: Chapter XVIII - Vengeance

Obedience brought victory. It was the most essential mantra of the fighting forces of the Dominion. It had never failed, had never been proven wrong and never had the Jem’Hadar questioned its indisputable truth. Of course there were exceptions. There were rare stories of Jem’Hadar units who had turned away from the Dominion, even turned on their leaders. But those were usually quickly explained away by reasonable sounding explanations such as a defective patch of clones or unexpected shortages of the ketracel-white drug.

There appeared to be just one inherent flaw in the Jem’Hadar’s well proven battle cry. Obedience could only deliver victory if those who demanded it knew exactly what they were doing.

Wegnour did not and it was becoming quickly apparent that the situation was getting away from him.

“Why has unit four not responded!” he shouted angrily at a Jem’Hadar operating one of the consoles who had been put up in a hurry in the large cavern which now posed as their command center.

Leaving behind the battle cruiser to send it after the Starfleet ships in the system was yet another decision First Telaka’clan had not agreed with. But just as it was customary for the Jem’Hadar he had not questioned the move. “Communications are unreliable in the mine shafts,” he said, preempting an answer from the soldier Wegnour had shouted at. “We were able to maintain minimal communications from the ship but we do not have those resources here.”

The implication in his statement was obvious enough for the Vorta to direct his anger towards the Jem’Hadar leader. “I don’t want excuses, I want results.”

“Bring back the command vessel, engage all available units onto our main objective. Give me the resources I need and I will deliver results!”

Wegnour stared at the Jem’Hadar with pure fury in his eyes. Such defiance and candor were practically unheard of within the Dominion military. The fact that the Vorta did not immediately request the blunt speaking solider terminated spoke for the desperation he felt.

They continued to gaze at each other, Telaka’clan, calm as ever, waiting for the Vorta to make any kind of move while Wegnour seemingly stunned by the soldier’s words was holding out for some form of explanation or perhaps even an apology.

Wegnour quickly realized that he would wait in vain and that the continued stand-off was making him look weak compared to the taller and stronger man who refused to stand down. The Vorta had never been more aware of the physical difference between them. It was uncomfortable, menacing even.

The Dominion ambassador sprang into action, turning away from ‘Clan he faced another Jem’Hadar solider. “Give me that,” he snapped and reached out for the man’s sidearm. The Jem’Hadar offered no resistance and Wegnour quickly pointed it straight at Telaka’clan’s chest. The Jem Hadar First didn’t flinch and the Vorta’s disappointment was obvious.

“Is there any good reason why I shouldn’t eliminate you on the spot?” he asked, his voice cracking up ever so slightly.

Ignoring the imminent danger to himself the Jem’Hadar took a step closer to the Vorta. “Kill me now and this mission of yours is guaranteed to end in failure. There are no more qualified soldiers in my unit to lead. In the name of the Founders I ask you –“

“Don’t you dare justify your actions by mentioning the Founders you insolent dog!” Wegnour yelled openly, raising the weapon higher.

‘Clan was not impressed and continued as if nothing was the matter. “To follow my suggestion and attack now before the Starfleeters devise of a plan to defeat us.”

Wegnour’s anger transformed into an arrogant laugh. “Defeat us? They don’t have the strength to pose a serious threat to us. We will prevail,” he said, albeit his voice losing conviction with every other word.

“Are you willing to take the chance to disappoint the Founders?”

The Vorta wanted to swallow but managed to suppress the urge. He understood that their overwhelming odds had dwindled since they had first engaged the Federation outpost. But he had operated under increasingly difficult conditions. What Telaka’clan didn’t realize – and Wegnour had no intention on sharing – was the fact that he was receiving his orders from a much closer source than anybody realized. However he had not been given any new instructions for a few hours and his insecurity as how to proceed was now greatly endangering this mission.

“Go and organize the men,” Wegnour finally said, lowering the weapon. “Assemble them for an immediate strike. But use caution. We might need the outpost’s key personnel alive. Kill the rest.”

Seemingly relieved by the new orders the Jem’Hadar First nodded in acknowledgement.

Wegnour lips turned up into a malicious grin. “Return at once,” he added, fully aware that ‘Clan was still hoping to see battle himself in order to fulfill his most primal urges. “I want you to remain close where I can keep an eye on you.”

Telaka’clan had never imagined that he would be as openly defiant to a Vorta as he had been now. He would have killed any member of the Dominion who had displayed such disrespect himself without thought or remorse. In fact he had done so when eliminating his trusted lieutenant for speaking his mind. He had no excuses left except for a feeling deep in his gut that Wegnour was a disgrace to the entire Dominion. He turned away without uttering a single word, respect or no, he knew his destiny was sealed.

“First,” Wegnour said quietly before the Jem’Hadar had a chance to slip out of the command post.

Telaka’clan froze with his back towards the Vorta.

“Be under no illusion. Your behavior here – today – was entirely unbefitting a Dominion agent. Upon completion of this mission expect to be terminated.”

“I shall think you and me both,” he just before slipping out of the command post.

Wegnour looked after ‘Clan. He had not expected the retort but somehow he was beginning to sense that perhaps the Jem’Hadar would remain right.

He spotted the soldier standing closest to him staring in his direction. Wegnour angrily threw the weapon at him. “What are you looking at? Get back to work!” Damn you and your entire brain-deprived race, he added in thought only.


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

 

[CeJay]

Re: Chapter XVIII - Vengeance

“Doctor,” DeMara Deen started softly, stepping up to the Grazerite scientist who had began to make preparations to activate Archangel. “Do you need a hand?”

The scientist stopped to look at the young woman next to him. Surprisingly a small smile formed on his face. “There isn’t much you can help me with, my dear,” he said. “But I appreciate the gesture.”

Deen nodded slowly.

Santesh-Yardo looked up at the black device which he had spent years to develop and which would now ultimately spell his own doom. “You know I never felt comfortable with this monster,” he said without ever diverting his glance. “I don’t know how much you know about Grazerites, Lieutenant, but you can believe me when I say that we are not a violent people.”

The Tenarian woman stepped closer. “You abhor violence,” she said sympathetically. In that regard her people were not much different.

He nodded. “And yet I was instrumental in creating a device designed to wipe out an entire race.” He turned to look at her, his eyes mirroring the sadness in his soul which he now openly displayed for the first time. “Don’t you think it is appropriate that I shall be the one to destroy it and myself along with it?”

Deen was no counselor. But she could have easily become one. Her natural aura – the Tenarian Glow as some called it – made others around her feel comfortable, sometimes even happy to just being close to her. She could inspire, motivate and even alleviate negativity by doing little more than speaking to another person and offering a smile. She had felt profound sadness for the Grazerite scientist who had been chosen to stay behind and die to give the others a chance to live. She had wanted to do for him whatever she could in the little time they had left. But now she realized that even she had nothing to offer to combat the despondency he had surely felt for a very long time.

He continued without letting her answer. “It’s alright my young, pretty friend,” he said with a tiny smile on his lips. “This is what must happen. It is the only thing that makes perfect sense in this utterly imperfect cosmos. And there is little time to waste,” he added and then quickly went back to his calculations.

The Tenarian didn’t know what else to say. She softly placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thank You,” she whispered.

“Dee?”

It was Louise Hopkins who distracted Deen from trying to encourage the doomed scientist further.

“Have you seen Laas?” the chief engineer asked, stepping up to her.

“I thought she was standing guard outside.”

Hopkins shook her head slowly. When she spoke she purposefully kept her voice down. “I think she went to find Monroe.”

Both women turned to look at the station’s first officer who stood close to Owens and Jana Tren. Not too close though. In fact it seemed that nobody dared to approach the commander. Either because they didn’t quite trust her or because they felt uncomfortable being around a person they had watched being tortured not so long ago.

“Did you ask her?” Deen wanted to know.

“No.”

The Tenarian didn’t blame her. “Are you sure she went to look for her?”

Hopkins nodded. “Pretty sure,” she answered and then quickly turned away from Monroe. The station’s first officer had now noticed the two women looking in her direction and glared back at them. The chief engineer swallowed. “She still looking this way?”

Deen replied with a curt nod and then turned slightly as well as if to pretend they were not talking about her at all. It didn’t quite work. “She’s coming over here.”

“Oh no.”

Monroe walked slowly but determinedly towards the two women. Even though only watching her out of the corner of her eye Deen was certain that there was menace in the way she moved. The last thing she wanted to do was confront Monroe. Like the others her conscience was plaguing her about what had happened earlier. She had tried to stop it of course but now she felt she should have done much more. She was certain Monroe thought so as well. Deen had hoped to be able to put off the implications of what they had done to her until they had managed to escape this place.

Something else suddenly captured her attention. The doors leading to the infirmary had opened and Nora Laas stepped out with an even more determined pace. She looked awful. Her uniform jacket was gone and her mustard colored shirt was in tatters and soaked through with blood. Just below her chest a large tear revealed an apparently freshly mended wound.

She tightly held her phaser rifle which she immediately pointed at Shelby Monroe. Her face was distorted into a mask of pure rage like somebody desperately lusting to draw blood. Deen realized that she would have discharged her weapon without hesitation had it not been for the people in her line of fire.

“Lieutenant?” Owens asked with surprise both at her sudden emergence as well as her disheveled appearance.

“Get out of the way,” she said without giving one thought to proper etiquette. “It’s Monroe. She’s the shapeshifter.”

“We’ve been through this, Lieutenant,” Owens said with increasing anger. He raised his own weapon suddenly quite worried about the seemingly unstable state of his security chief. He could tell from the look in her eyes, she would not back down this time until somebody was dead.

“It’s her, damnit!” she shot back, not slowing down her pace, trying to get around Owens and Tren who were blocking her way.

Shelby Monroe acted swiftly, taking full advantage of her shielded position. She stepped up to the still distracted Louise Hopkins and snatched her phaser from the engineer’s holster. Monroe spun back around, pointing the weapon at her Bajoran accuser. “I will not hesitate to shoot you, Lieutenant. Lower you weapon now!” she said with an intensity matching that of Nora Laas.

Deen took a careful step towards Monroe. She knew the weapon was not set to stun, none of their phasers were, and just one carefully aimed shot would certainly kill Nora. “Commander, please think about what you are doing,” she urged but didn’t reach for her own weapon.

“She knows exactly what she’s doing,” Nora replied in her stead. “You want me dead. Just like you killed Gene and the real Monroe and McAllister and probably countless more.”

“You will lower your weapon, Lieutenant. Now!” Owens said, now standing a few feet away from the security officer.

She ignored him and instead began to side step the captain and Tren in order to get to Monroe. “Next time you’re trying to kill somebody make sure you don’t leave them for dead in a medical bay,” she spat. “But I guess you wouldn’t know all too much about humanoid physiology, would you?”

The Monroe impersonator was an expert shapeshifter, applying human and alien mannerisms perfectly to its disguise. It had been able to fool everyone by pretending to be somebody it was not. But Nora’s last statement caught it slightly off guard and a nervous twitch crossed Monroe’s face. Deen noticed it first, causing a cold shiver to run down her spine. She reached for her weapon.

“What tells us you are not the shapeshifter?” Monroe fired back, attempting to mask her momentary sign of insecurity. “The one shouting the loudest usually has the greatest secret to conceal.”

“You need to stop,” Doctor Santesh-Yardo began and approached Monroe. “We have half an army out there trying to kill us. What point is there in trying to do the same to each other? I know what we have done to you wasn’t right and let me be the first to apologize,” he said and tried to get in front of her and directly into her line of fire. “But please save your anger for the real enemy.”

“Doctor, don’t!” Deen cried out, trying to stop the Grazerite from moving too close.

Nora had managed to get around the captain, ignoring the phaser rifles pointed at her. But just as she thought she had a clear shot, Santesh-Yardo stepped into her way.

“Sir,” Hopkins said, addressing the captain and stepping away from Monroe. “I don’t think the commander is who she says –“

Monroe reached out for Santesh suddenly, roughly grabbing him by the neck and pulling him in front of herself as if he was a shield. She pressed her phaser against his temple and walked backwards towards Archangel.

Within an instant all phasers in the room were pointed at Monroe and her hostage. Most reacting merely instinctively not even comprehending what was happening. Others quickly realized what was transpiring. Commander Shelby Monroe, falsely accused and tortured almost to death had finally snapped.

Jana Tren took a small step towards Monroe. Owens tried to hold her back but she slipped passed his grip. “Commander, this doesn’t serve any purpose at all. Let the doctor go and we can talk about this.”

“Wake up,” Nora said, also approaching the hostage taker. “This is not Monroe. She’s that damn shapeshifter which killed Commander Edison and nearly killed me.”

Tren froze and looked at the Bajoran, attempting to judge her words. There was a chilling confidence in her tone now that had been absent before. Nora knew without a doubt that she was right.

“Lower your weapons or I will kill this man,” Monroe said. Her words sounded strangely unfamiliar, not quite fitting the person who uttered them.

Owens looked at two Starfleet crewmen standing nearby who had their weapons pointed at Monroe also. “Go check on McAllister!”

The two nodded quickly and departed the scene.

“They will find both McAllister and Monroe’s dead body,” Nora stated dryly her eyes still piercing the imposter. “Game’s up.”

Santesh-Yardo’s eyes widened now that he realized for the first time that the person threatening to kill him might indeed be a changeling infiltrator.

“This is your last warning,” Monroe said again, this time not even attempting to impersonate the Starfleet officer’s voice. “Lower your weapons now or he will be killed.” For emphasis she dug the emitter cone deep into the Grazerite’s furrowed temple.

Nora uttered a sharp sarcastic laugh. “You will kill him anyway. There is no reason not to blast you to bits right now.”

The shapeshifter’s eyes twinkled slightly, perhaps out of concern or maybe fear. Nora was determined now. She was going to end this anyway she had to and the changeling knew it.

Tren looked at Owens. “It’s not going to kill Santesh. The Dominion will need him in order to make Archangel work for them.”

The captain nodded slowly. From the corner of his eye he could see that Commander Leva and Lieutenant D’Karr were getting into position to take down the shapeshifter as soon as it moved far enough away from the super-weapon. The imposter had not spotted them yet.

“Alright,” he said. “Everybody lower your weapons.”

The Starfleet officers complied. All but one.

“You can’t be serious,” Nora said, now only a few short feet away from the changeling. “We have to take it down now or it will kill us all.” She was focusing so strongly on the hated opponent in front of her that she did not notice the Klingon who had silently and effortlessly climbed on top of the massive Archangel device and was now getting into place to leap down onto his target.

“Captain,” Santesh said and swallowed hard. His words were not coming over his lips easily. “She is right. I … I’d rather die than help the Dominion.”

Owens was not having any of it. “Goddamnit, Lieutenant, follow my order.”

Nora threw Owens a venomous look as if she couldn’t believe what he was saying. She was fiercely loyal to the captain, always had been. She had never disobeyed an order he had given her, never even considered it. But she could not let the changeling go. Not after all that it had done to her. She would kill that thing even if it meant to lose everything she held dear. As far as she was concerned there wasn’t much left in any case.

The one second she afforded herself to look away from the shapeshifter was all it needed.

“Laas!”

Hopkins’ warning came too late. The Bajoran whipped around instantly only to see the blur of an object being slung her way. There was no time to evade. She knew right away what it was when it collided with her. It was heavy but soft and organic. The changeling had used its hostage as a weapon, catapulting it towards Nora with immense force.

Nora heard the sickening sound of crunching bones as she was violently jerked back like a puppet whose strings were being pulled suddenly. Her body lifted off the ground for just a meter or so before she landed painfully on the floor with Santeh-Yardo’s body on top of hers. Together they slid across the smooth flooring until they both smashed into the wall with her being squashed in between.

D’Karr leaped from the top of Archangel, holding a razor-sharp dagger at his side ready to slice the changeling into a million tiny pieces. The move had been anticipated however.

As if it had eyes on top of its head the shapeshifter simply reached out for the Klingon and grabbing him in midair. Except that its arm was no longer that of a human. Instead it had swiftly transformed into powerful tentacle which easily wrapped around the large warrior.

Owens and the others reached for their weapons with no delay and it was still not quickly enough.

In one swift motion the abnormally formed creature brought down the Klingon still entangled in the tentacle and using him like a bullet whip, lashing out at the armed officers surrounding it.

Deen, Hopkins and Xylion were cut down instantly and so were most of the remaining scientists and Starfleet crewmembers. Owens and Tren managed to avoid the vicious attack by flattening themselves to the ground in time to avoid the sweeping tentacle.

So’Dan Leva performed a quick and perfect roll to dive underneath the appendage which finally released the Klingon only to fling him across the room to take down two other scientists who had managed to remain on their feet.

The half-Romulan came up with his phaser rifle locked onto his target. He fired and watched with satisfied certainty that the powerful discharge would blast the Founder apart. His facial expression turned into disbelieve when the beam simply passed through its target as the changeling had re-shaped in time to create a large gap inside its own body.

A dozen or so tentacles leashed out from its now ball-shaped and semi-liquid torso. Its appearance had become sickly disturbing. Still possessing the uniform-clad legs and Monroe’s head, nothing in-between looked remotely humanoid at all.

Michael Owens scrambled onto his feet trying to bring his own weapon to bear only to be first struck by one of the tentacles which proceeded quickly to wrap itself around his neck and lifting him off the floor. He lost the grip on his weapon and it clattered to the ground. His hands instinctively reached for his throat trying to dislodge the appendage. It felt slimy and slippery and he was unable to get a firm grip on it. It was only after a few seconds that he realized that it wasn’t trying to choke him. Not yet. For now it seemed content to just keep him dangling a few feet over the ground, entirely helpless.

Owens managed to turn his head just enough to see that most of the others were now in a similar position all across the room. Everyone who was still conscious had been suspended by the army of tentacles, held firmly by their puppet master enemy.

The person being held closest to him was Jana Tren and he could sense what she was feeling. This was the end. The Dominion had won. All the changeling had to decide now was how to dispose of its prisoners. It could either do the dirty work itself by doing nothing more than applying a bit more pressure or it could wait for the Jem’Hadar soldiers to arrive to finish the job instead.

But there was something else he could see in her eyes. It wasn’t about their failed mission or the potential end of the Federation or even their imminent demise. It was much more personal. It was pure and utter regret. Regret that all hope for a future for the both of them together had now come to an undeniable end.

Michael Owens felt enormous dread wash over him.


----------------------------------------------
Stay tuned for Chapter XIX – Sacrifice

 

[DavidFalkayn]

Re: Chapter XVIII - Vengeance

No question, you've shown us just how dangerous a shapeshifter can be--you've done with the Founders what DS9 failed to do--shown us just how formidable they are.

All looks lost...but I have a feeling there's one more wild card left in the deck...

 

[CeJay]

Chapter XIX - Sacrifice

Chapter XIX – Sacrifice


Just one day earlier the starship Eagle had been in a very similar situation, Lif Culsten recalled. Going head-to-head with the Jem’Hadar had become a familiar game for the crew. And yet in the infinite vastness of space to be on a direct collision course with another starship still evoked certain feelings of nervous uncertainty.

Was this massive battle cruiser simply going to roll over the much smaller Federation ship? Would the Jem’Hadar vessel even take damage from the resulting collision?

The Krellonian rubbed his palms nervously against the pristine leather armrests of the captain’s chair when he suddenly recalled something else about Eagle’s previous attempt to face the Jem’Hadar dead on. Owens’ serenity. He had been the epitome of a calm and collected leader who knew exactly what he was doing. Culsten didn’t know how much of it was an act – surely the captain could not foresee his enemy’s every move anymore than he could – and how much was pure confidence. What he did realize was that he did a very poor job at inspiring the same sense of tranquility. He was a nervous wreck and way past the point of trying to hide it from the crew.

But then again, Eagle had been in immensely better shape back when Owens had faced the two vessels which had been somewhat inferior to the powerful Nebula-class starship under his command. And yet he knew that if the captain was sitting in this chair instead of him, their chances for survival would have been multiple times higher as they were now.

“Weapons range in twenty seconds,” Lance Stiller announced suddenly, ripping through the silence which had ensued on the bridge.

His voice was high-pitched and an unmistakable reminder that, quite possibly, the last few seconds of their existence had now begun.

“Brace for combat action,” Culsten said just loud enough for all on the bridge to hear. It wasn’t necessarily a command that was required but more than anything else it put his own mind in the right place.

“Ten seconds.”

The Jem’Hadar battle cruiser had not opened fired yet which meant that their weapons had a similar range than Eagle’s. Or it might have meant nothing at all.

“Five.”

Sweat pearls were dropping into the Krellonian’s eyes. He could spot the two officers at the forward stations sitting stiffly at their consoles as if any movement at all might deter their chances of surviving this encounter. Their fingers hovered closely over their controls, ready to activate the right panel at less than a moment’s notice.

“Weapons range!” Stiller nearly shouted.

“Release firing solution one. Helm, hard to starboard, now, now, now!”

Trinik released the previously agreed on firing solution consisting of eight quantum torpedoes and one tri-cobalt device. The super high-yield tri-cobalt projectile was the most powerful weapon Eagle had in its arsenal. But it was not a very reliable weapon due to its slow and sluggish targeting mechanism. Small and medium sized ships could easily evade it but Culsten had hoped that the Jem’Hadar behemoth could not.

Ensign Srena forced the ship hard to its right side and thereby revealing the only surprise their plan had contained. Culsten prayed it would be enough.

As the ship turned sharply to starboard, the Agamemnon shot out from behind Eagle, performing a full body roll and accelerating towards the Jem’Hadar’s opposite flank.

The idea had been that the enemy’s targeting systems would have been locked solely on Eagle while it would have been unable to detect the other vessel which was practically riding on Eagle’s back and masking its warp signature to match that of its sister ship. It had been a good plan for the little time they’ve had to prepare except for one major flaw. Eagle would be completely exposed to the battle cruiser’s first barrage and in its current condition nobody was certain she’d be able to take it. Both Culsten and Donners would have preferred to switch roles but Agamemnon’s slim profile had simply not allowed for Eagle to hide behind.

Captain Donners, realizing that Eagle was now on the offering plate, did not hesitate to get in as close as possible to cause the maximum amount of damage. She had her impulse engines running at double speed and transferred most of her warp power to weapons. Escape was now out of the question.

Culsten watched Agamemnon closing in on the target but as expected the sluggish cruiser had already decided which ship to blast out of stars first and was now slowly turning its nose towards the much more vulnerable target. Multiple hardpoints on the battleship’s hull lit up to unleash its awesome arsenal.

“Evasive Owens-Six!” the Krellonian shouted.

Srena complied instantly.

Borrowing from the captain’s playbook Owens-Six didn’t include any rapid dives or course changes but instead would keep rotating the ship to keep the lowest possible profile in relation to the incoming fire. It was not enough to avoid the explosion of poloron beams which had been unleashed.

Eagle’s bridge shook hard, nearly throwing Culsten out of his seat.

“Shields down to fifty-five percent,” Trinik announced calmly even while he required all his strength to hold on to his console.

“Return fire. All weapons!”

Eagle’s answer was not nearly as devastating as the Jem’Hadar attack had been. The phasers simply could no longer deliver the same intensity after being in use all day and the one remaining torpedo launcher was also beginning to show signs of wear and tear. Both weapon systems connected with the large target but the battle cruisers shields easily deflected most of what Eagle could muster.

“Their shields are holding at eighty-seven percent,” the Vulcan officer at tactical reported, providing commentary to the imagery on the view screen.

“How is Agamemnon doing?” Culsten wanted to know.

Stiller answered. “They have concentrated their fire on the enemy’s port side. The Jem’Hadar have taken localized damage there but their shields have not been penetrated yet.”

The view screen shifted to show the progress the other Starfleet ship had made. The streamlined vessel was unleashing everything it had onto the massive enemy but now also had to deal with the return fire which was quickly intensifying. Agamemnon had come in close, essentially sacrificing their defense for a swift and determined offense. It was going to cost them dearly.

Culsten understood that their only chance was to combine their fire power and focus it onto their enemy’s weakest spot.

“Srena, get us over there, best speed,” he said while he gripped both his armrests in order to avoid being thrown out of the seat as the bridge continued to shake relentlessly.

“I’ll try,” the blue-skinned ensign replied, her shaky voice hinting towards an increasing loss of faith in their current situation.

A well placed high-yield torpedo impacted on Eagle’s saucer section, ripping through the shields and blowing a wide hole in the hull. The shockwaves of the impact caused a secondary EPS conduit running behind the aft stations on the bridge to rupture. Two consoles blew out instantly, throwing crewmembers unlucky enough to stand close by to the ground.

The ear-deafening noise and the hot sparks showering down on him made Lif Culsten jump onto his feet. The remaining aft stations were now fluctuating wildly and he rushed towards the scene to help the injured crewmembers.

“We have sustained a direct hit,” the Vulcan tactical officer remarked. “Hull breaches on deck two, three and four, sections eighteen through twenty-four. Emergency force fields are responding. Casualty reports are coming in.”

Culsten barely listened to Trinik’s report. He had helped a stunned crewmember back on his feet but had found another one unresponsive. The young noncom man was about his age and lay motionless on the floor. His skin and uniform were badly burned; blood was dripping out of his mouth. The Krellonian couldn’t manage to take his eyes off the obviously dead crewmember.

“We’re coming up on the Agamemnon,” Stiller announced.

Culsten however was still in trance. It was difficult for him to comprehend and yet it seemed perfectly obvious. This man – and he felt devastated that he couldn’t remember his name – had lost his life because of actions he had been responsible for.

Another critical hit caused the bridge to heave dangerously. The acting captain lost his footing but Lieutenant Trinik managed to grab him before his head could impact with the tactical station.

“Sir?” he urged, his voice now having taken on a much more pressing tone

Culsten glanced at his demanding expression suddenly feeling utterly inadequate for the task required. He looked at the view screen which showed the still attacking Jem’Hadar juggernaut relentlessly unleashing all its weapons towards Eagle.

“Shields are critical!” Stiller nearly shouted to make himself heard over the battle noise. “The starboard nacelle has been hit, we’re venting drive plasma!”

The Krellonian knew what that meant. One lucky shot and the Jem’Hadar could ignite the highly combustive plasma which would spell certain doom to the ship. He clenched his teeth. “Trinik, load tri-cobalt devices. Everything we’ve got left!” he said and made his way back towards his seat. The short journey proved difficult as the floor refused to stop moving beneath his feet.

The tactical officer went straight to work.

“Eagle to Agamemnon, I suggest we concentrate our fire power,” Culsten said, his voice automatically activating a com-link to the other ship.

“Understood, Eagle. We’re sending you coordinates now,” Donners disembodied voice replied.

Culsten looked at Trinik who confirmed the receipt with a short nod.

“Fire when ready!”

Both Starfleet ships unleashed their weapons at the same time, targeting the exact same spot on the Jem’Hadar ship. Eagle launched six tri-cobalt warheads.

Culsten and the rest of the bridge crew looked on with horrid disbelieve as five out of the six devices were easily picked up and destroyed by the Jem’Hadar’s point defense system.

“Their shields are remaining stable at sixty-four percent,” Trinik announced calmly as if he had not just witnessed their best chance for victory evaporate into thin air.

The Krellonian acting captain dropped into the center chair, feeling utterly defeated. He had no more ideas, no more plans or strategies which could give them any shot at defeating their enemy. It was now unmistakably clear. They had lost.

“Shields down to ten percent!” Lance Stiller shouted. “Hull breaches reported on decks nine through sixteen and deck twenty through twenty-two. Emergency force fields have failed to initiate. Structural integrity is critical!”

“Donners to Eagle,” Her voice sounded thin, distant and was laced with heavy static. And yet her own desperation was not easily missed. “You won’t be able to withstand this much longer. Get out of here, we try to buy you some time.”

“Bridge this is engineering. We are about to lose anti-matter containment down here,” the voice of the deputy chief engineer sounded across the bridge. “We need to dump the core now or risk a breach.”

“At least if we blow up we’ll take those bastards with us,” Srena replied quietly. Her spotless blue face was now crisscrossed with bloody red scars; her short hair was dirty and drenched with perspiration.

An explosion on the bridge forced Culsten to whip his head around. Another EPS conduit had ruptured a bulkhead and a small plasma fire was now filling the bridge with smoke. There were no repair teams available to respond. And even while he watched the slowly growing, green fire a new thought had formed in his head.

Against better judgment he stood. “Engineering, can you eject the core and remote detonate it?”

The question must have startled the deputy chief engineer as it took him a few seconds to reply. “It’s possible.”

Culsten looked at Trinik who instantly understood what the acting captain had in mind. He slightly shook his head. “We would not be able to escape a warp core detonation at this range. Our chances of surviving the blast are infinitesimal.”

The Krellonian focused his gaze onto the view screen. “So are theirs.”

Srena looked at Culsten. She didn’t utter a single word but he knew exactly what he was thinking. Nobody wanted to die today but the choice was no longer theirs to make. It was their one and only remaining chance to destroy the Jem’Hadar and give both Agamemnon and the stranded away team a chance to survive.

“Agamemnon, this is Eagle,” Culsten began, trying hard to give his voice the firmness it required to deliver the grim news. “Do you still have warp capability?”

The reply came promptly. “Just enough for low warp but we’re not leaving you behind.”

Culsten smiled. He understood now that Captain Amaya Donners was not somebody who would give up nor would she easily be convinced to run and save her own skin, leaving a fellow ship behind to die. It spoke volumes about her character but Culsten knew that in this case she had no choice. He swallowed before he continued. He hadn’t dreamt that someday he would have to make a call that would not only doom his ship but also dictate to another starship captain. “I see no alternative but to eject our warp core and detonate it near the Jem’Hadar ship. It is the only way we can beat them.”

Now Donners did hesitate. It wasn’t the best time to do so. A series of impacts on Eagle’s hull send the ship spinning out of control. The computer announced an urgent warning in regards to the ship’s increasingly critical structural integrity.

“Eagle, eject your warp core on our mark and stand by to be taken into a tractor beam,” Amaya Donners’ voice announced.

“Captain, with all due respect, I cannot allow you to risk your ship and crew in –“

She cut him off. “Your objection is duly noted. Now shut the hell up and do as I say.”

Culsten couldn’t bear standing still anymore. He could hardly believe what was about to happen. Instead of having one ship on his conscious he might quite easily become responsible for the destruction of two. He quickly decided that any further deliberation on that point were moot. Events had been set in motion and he had to see them through no matter what. He stepped up behind Lance Stiller’s chair. “Will she hold together?”

Stiller answer was nothing but an empty look. He did not know.

Culsten glanced over to Srena who was now doing her best to keep Eagle stable enough for the imminent suicide maneuver. The second one of the day for her.

“All hands,” Culsten said. “Brace for sudden warp acceleration.” Even while he addressed the crew he could see Agamemnon getting into position on the view screen. She had turned around and was approaching them quickly in order to be able to scoop up Eagle with a tractor beam. He knew it was a ridiculous idea. The smaller Agamemnon couldn’t hope to bring up enough warp power to accelerate both ships and at the same time maintain a stable tractor lock. Especially not considering the two vessels’ weakened condition.

“Engineering, eject the core now!”

“It’s gone,” the voice of the deputy chief announced after a short delay.

Lance Stiller whipped around to look at Culsten, panic written all across his face. “I’ve lost the uplink to the warp core! We can’t remote detonate!”

“Eagle detonate now!”

On the view screen Agamemnon was just a heartbeat away.

Culsten didn’t know where his next words came from but he uttered them nevertheless. “Trinik, target the core and fire!”

Eagle was gripped by an immensely powerful force, not unlike a row boat caught in the middle of a hurricane. The lights on the bridge faded into darkness and Culsten felt his body become weightless for an instance before it was tossed across the bridge like a rag doll. He heard screams of pain and anguish as the world around him seemed to have come to an end.


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

 

[DavidFalkayn]

Re: Chapter XIX - Sacrifice

Culsten is definitely getting a workout here--and so is the poor Eagle! I'm wondering if Owens will have a ship left to command when this is all over with--assuming Owens gets out of the situation he's in, that is!

A very tense part and a nasty cliffhanger to leave us hanging on!