Good old bio-weapon, interesting cultural development with the vorta and all in the midst of the burgeoning Dominion War. Very engaging storyline. Thanks!! rbs
No! You can't leave it there. I'm really liking this, and I'd like to punch Kingston in the face, smarmy git. Looking forward to where this goes.
Kallin was actually inspired by Seven and conceived of before "Treachery, Faith and the Great River" aired way back when. When that came out, I felt validated with the idea that there can be Vorta who go against the grain. That they're not all cut from the same cookie-cutter mould. As for the bio-weapon, yeah, it's a bit of a cliche, but then again, this was originally written nearly 30 years ago... Onto Chapter Eight, at the moment. Been stuck in a bit of a rut [possible pre-birthday blues, as I turn another year older on Sunday 3rd] but hoping to get this finished within the week. It has developed a new life, versus a general 'remastering', as I've chopped out a significant sub-plot - when this was planned and written as the first episode of a series, I would have introduced my own Q character, which was something of a recurring motif in those glory days of fan-fiction... Oh, yes, Kingston is definitely nose-punch-worthy... He gets what's coming to him. Thanks, I hope you enjoy the coming conclusion!
Chapter SEVEN The outdated hospital ships never stood a chance. The three Jem’Hadar attack ships struck with lightning-quick speed, and unmatched ferocity. It didn’t matter to them that the two ships were obsolete. That they were barely armed with minimal shields. Nor that they were crewed by civilian medics and scientists. All that mattered to them was the orders of the Founders. Orders that stated these ships were to be obliterated to make way for the Dominion. They would not fail their Gods. Polaron beams burned the hulls of both ships. The Keller, a Miranda-class ship that had once seen service during the heyday of the 2320s, was surprisingly nimble for a ship of advanced years. Thanks to the quick actions of their pilot, the vessel was able to break orbit and take evasive maneuvers. However, it wasn’t fast enough for a single shot to wing the starboard nacelle. Plasma began venting out into space, trailing behind the Keller as it bobbed and weaved around incoming fire. The Medusa, a 70-year old, boxy and compact former transport ship, was nowhere near as fortunate. A succession of energy blasts to their impulse drive crippled the Sydney-class ship, leaving only thrusters to get the ship moving. The Jem’Hadar, as if smelling the blood of their injured prey, went in for the kill. One attack ship pushed on after the Keller, who was unable to help their comrade, their own limited shields and weapons useless against Dominion armaments. All they could hope for was to outpace or outsmart their smaller, fiercer opponent until help could arrive. The other two fighters viciously pounded the weakening hull of the Medusa with an assortment of polaron blasts and plasma torpedoes. The shields long gone, jagged cracks formed in the hull as atmospheric integrity was breached. The strut of the port nacelle gave way under the intense assault, snapping clean off and spinning out into space. Still the assault continued, as the crews on both Jem’Hadar ships relished their imminent victory of the pitifully-weak craft… …until the massive form of the Galaxy-class Starship Tempest abruptly dropped out of warp and unleashed its own impressive weapons payload. The volley of quantum torpedoes and phaser blasts the vessel launched made quick work of one of the attack fighters. The remaining one taunting the Medusa quickly broke away, redirecting its fire towards the much larger threat now off their stern. Their beams impacted the shields, which seemed to have little to no effect visible to the outside viewer. Inside was another story. + + + “Continue firing, Mr. Ravin! Don’t lose them, helm!” Marcus Doyle edged forward in his command chair, gritting his teeth in private anguish and supreme fury. His gamble had paid off, but were they in time? The in-system warp jump had been a risky maneuver, but Lanso Krendan had proved every bit the cocky flyboy his record said he was. Under his skilful hands, the Tempest had made the navigationally-hazardous move, which got them back to Reshii III orbit in seconds, instead of the several hours it could have been at full impulse. Now, they chased down the other Jem’Hadar fighter that had been carving up the Medusa like a pork roast. Where the Hell had these bastards come from? “Captain, we’ve got more ships incoming,” Kayrene announced from hir primary science console. “Two more Jem’Hadar fighters. They were masking their approach by using the planet’s magnetic pole to obscure their energy signatures.” S/he frowned at the readings, double-checking it before continuing, “They appear to have suffered battle damage.” “Which isn’t stopping them from charging disruptors, sir.” Ravin growled from his position at Tactical, clawed talons tapping in a variety of firing sequences. “They’ll enter weapons range in 60 seconds.” It gave them a brief pause to catch their breath. “X.O., how are we holding up from our little jump?” Lero, manning the auxiliary systems console to monitor damage reports, replied quickly, “Structural integrity is at 82% but holding. Chief Shaan reports that the nacelles are showing strain but no sign of coil burnout. EPS conduits are stable.” Doyle breathed a sigh of relief at that small mercy. “Divert power from all non-essential systems to weapons and shields,” he ordered, standing from his chair, needing to be on the move as the ship went into the fray. It was time to put this new ship through her first taste of battle. To unleash the fury of the Tempest. “Here they come!” The Tempest’s shields withstood the combined assault of the new arrivals, coming to fight alongside their outgunned compatriot. But there were several energy surges through the EPS system, causing ancillary control panels on the bridge to short out. “Damage report!” Ravin's response took a few extra seconds to come as the ship rocked again, “Shields are down to 78%. Artificial gravity failure on Decks 37 to 40. Lateral sensors are only partially operating, but damage control teams have been deployed.” “What's the status of the medical ships?” It was the first thing Lewis had said since they’d raced up to the bridge only minutes before. Laya consulted her readouts. Doyle saw her grip was white-knuckle, as she coordinated the different priority systems and the sensors, “The Keller has locked down the plasma leak in its nacelle, now that the attack fighter has shifted attention towards us. Their shields are at 47%. But the Medusa is in a bad way. Primary power is off-line and they’ve got multiple hull fractures. Engines are completely dead.” Doyle took position behind his conn officer, “Mr. Krendan, I want us between the Jem’Hadar and the Medusa.” Krendan nodded, hands already in motion as he moved the huge ship between the smaller Dominion fighters and the medical frigates. "You got it, sir." Weapons fire rocked the ship, and Doyle's grip tightened on the back of the lieutenant’s seat. It would not be good for the captain to be sent across the bridge during the battle. An idea came to him. It wouldn’t be pretty, but it might give them an ace in the hole. “Prepare to extend shields around the Medusa so we can beam their crew off.” Ravin growled with reluctant disapproval, “Captain, extending the shields weakens overall integrity. We will take damage.” “I know, Mr. Ravin,” Doyle acknowledged his tactical officer’s salient point, “But you know as well as I we can’t just leave the civilians aboard that ship to die.” Ravin bowed his head in acquiescence, as Doyle turned to Sokath, “Hail the Keller. Tell them to warp out of the system as soon as possible. We’ll keep the Jem’Hadar occupied.” The Miranda-class ship wasn’t fast, but he hoped they would keep the attention of the Dominion ships for long enough to allow the Keller to get some distance. After all, they were a more attractive and tempting target. The Vulcan nodded, calmly following out his orders, easily maintaining his balance despite the buffeting the Galaxy-class starship was taking, “Keller responding, sir. Captain Lenari sends her thanks.” As Lero coordinated to make sure all transporter rooms went from stand-by to active status, and Sickbay was ready for more incoming wounded, Doyle hit his comm. badge, and braced himself as the ship was hit with another barrage of weapons fire, “Engineering, how are you holding up down there, Chief?” The purring voice of M'ilyia Shaan was cut through with static, but he could make the most of her report, [The ship... aking a pounding, but she... andle it, Captain.] “Acknowledged. Listen carefully. I need as much power as possible to the tractor emitters without sacrificing shield strength. No time for questions, just do it. Understood?” [Roger, sir.] The Caitian signed off, and Doyle felt reassured she would do all she could. Now he just had to let the rest of the bridge crew in on the half-formed plan he had, “Okay, everyone, listen up. Once we’ve cleared the Medusa of personnel, we’ll use it as a battering ram.” On the screen, the older-model nacelles of the Keller glowed bright blue, before the vessel vanished as it was propelled into warp in a flash of light. “No signs of pursuit,” Ravin reported. “I think the Jem’Hadar have decided that we are the most worthy of their attention.” Despite the dire nature of the situation, Doyle allowed himself to figuratively breathe a sigh of relief - that was one less near-defenseless craft he had to be concerned over. “Shields extended,” Laya reported - just before another barrage of disruptors pummeled the Tempest. As expected, this time the crew felt the deck buck beneath them a lot more than previously, as the shields were stretched thin. “57% and dropping.” The Jem’Hadar continued to hound them, like a swarm of angry hornets, desperately trying to break through the protective energy bubble in order to sting the more vulnerable hull. Even with their low-yield ablative armor, the hull wouldn’t withstand enemy fire for long once the disruptor beams punctured the shields. “All transporters have commenced emergency evac protocols,” Lero reported, “Medusa crew is being beamed directly to Sickbay.” “Captain..?” Kayrene couldn’t keep the fear and horror from hir voice, “Sensors are picking up intense fluctuations in the Medusa’s antimatter containment system.” S/he looked to Doyle, hir eyes wide, “We’re looking at an imminent core breach.” Oh, good God… “Status of beam-outs?” “Less than half of the surviving complement evacuated,” Lero responded, feeling her heart sink in despair, “The targeting sensors can’t get through the interference generated by all the disruptor fire.” Archer left his seat and approached Doyle’s side. “How long until the breach?” Kayrene shook hir head, totally clueless, “The rate of magnetic decay isn’t constant, I can’t even give you a rough estimate!” Sokath’s calm voice had a grave edge to it. “Sir, if we are still in our current close proximity when containment fails–” “I’m aware, Mr. Sokath,” Doyle replied through gritted teeth. Wishing like Hell he could do something - anything - more than just stand and watch as it all happened. Finally, he did the only thing he could, “Continue transport sequences, but pull back the shields.” The words weighed heavily on his soul, even though he knew he didn’t have a choice, “Mr. Krendan, back us off, best speed.” The bridge fell silent. As orders were carried out, there was nothing anybody could do but watch and wait for the death knell of a starship. Even the assault of Dominion weaponry had abated as the Jem’Hadar ships pulled back, wanting to avoid being caught in an imminent explosion. But not too far, as if almost eager to see how it would all play out. The dread pall lifted slightly when a chime beeped from the communications panel. Ensign Izumi, the current officer manning the position, looked ashen. “Medusa is sending out a wide-band transmission, sir. Their comms. system took heavy damage.” Doyle turned his gaze to the forward viewscreen, as static flared across the image of the drifting medical frigate, already falling away as Tempest put distance between them. It was practically impossible to make out anything, until the static calmed somewhat, and from somewhere at the rear of the bridge, someone gasped in horror. They honestly couldn’t be blamed for that. It was like a scene from an old 20th-century disaster movie. The Medusa’s compact, outdated and vintage-era bridge was wrecked. Flames burned all across the deck, and there didn't seem to be a working console anywhere. The body of the young helmswoman now lay prone across her console, half her face covered in soot and burns. It was hard to make out if she was still breathing. Through the smoke and flames, Doyle managed to see another prone figure, slumped in the command chair. The smoke cleared slightly as damaged air purifiers vainly cleared the air, revealing the figure to be Russell Kingston. Bloodied and bruised but alive. His eyes wide with shock and terror. “Kingston, hang on!” Doyle stepped forward, “We’re beaming you all out.” Laya offered a humble apology, “Sir, he can’t hear you. Their receiving array was destroyed.” Kingston’s wild gaze stared ahead. and it was like his mind had snapped, [Doyle! --left us? You’re supposed -- protect us! Please, don’t leave -- here, I don’t -- to die..!] It was like a cold hand of the Devil had taken hold of his heart. Doyle looked at the broken man, all pomposity and arrogance gone as his ship and crew burned around him. The transmission began to falter, but Doyle could just make out his words, [Not supposed -- be like this. Medical sh-- Do no harm. No ha--] The signal cut out, just before Kayrene cried, “Magnetic containment collapse! The core is–” S/he didn’t need to finish as the Sydney-class vessel exploded in the blinding white light of an uncontrolled runaway matter/antimatter reaction. Somehow, Doyle found his voice long enough to call out, “Auxiliary power to the aft shields!” He hoped it would be enough… “All decks, brace for impact!” + + + Energy cannot be created or destroyed. Merely change form. In the case of the Medusa’s failing warp core, the matter and antimatter that powered the ship’s systems was now expelled outward in a destructive conflagration. A sheer untempered fury to it akin to the burning heart of a star. All of that and more slammed into the shields of the Tempest, despite Krendan’s best attempts to put enough distance. So, instead he tried to adjust their course, and allow the Galaxy-class starship to ‘ride’ the shockwave, like the surfers he’d seen in old holovids from an Academy girlfriend. The fancy-dan move was only partially successful, as the shields crackled, white-hot energy strands dancing across their entirety. The four Jem’Hadar ships, only moments ago delighting in the death throes of their enemy, now paid the price for that arrogance. The blast wave continued unabated, and despite their superior agility, these beetle-like ships were not as well-protected as their larger brethren. Their shields, weakened by the Tempest’s earlier phasers and torpedo impacts, were not as strong as they should have been. One fighter took the brunt of the impact, to be sent spiraling out of control, end over end, before it unceremoniously and unforgivably blew apart, succumbing to the massive internal damage it had sustained. The other three fighters were more fortunate. Intact, but damaged. Weapons ready and available. Crosshairs sighted and locked. The Tempest was an altogether far-too-easy target… + + + His lungs burning from the acrid smoke that the environmental systems hadn’t managed to purge, Doyle coughed roughly as he tried to speak, “Damage report! All stations.” When the energy wave had struck the Tempest, the crew had been tossed around like proverbial ragdolls. Systems all across the ship had blown out, going off-line for long drawn-out moments until emergency back-ups kicked in. This was no more evident than the bridge. Crewpersons were strewn across the deck. The starboard consoles were dead, as exposed and broken access panels fell away, revealing the damaged circuitry. Sokath, using an emergency medkit, was tending to a badly wounded non-com, who’d caught the brunt of an exploding console. Finally, with a cough of her own, Lero managed to answer him, “Warp power is fluctuating. The primary EPS manifold overloaded. Engineering is working on a bypass, but they took heavy damage. Shields are on-line, but they’re at 19%.” Laya struggled with her console, “Sensors temporarily overloaded. Attempting to bring secondary arrays online, while the processing subroutines reset.” “Helm is being slow to answer, Captain.” Krendan slapped at his board, which blinked on and off intermittently. “Phaser arrays off-line,” Ravin contributed. “Forward torpedo launchers ready, but on manual targeting only.” “Marcus. Look…” Something in Lewis’s tone made Doyle’s blood turn cold. He followed the counselor’s gaze towards the viewscreen. It was functioning, but flickering with static overlay and imaging render errors. But it was still clear enough to see the four remaining Dominion attack ships closing in on them. Slowly and inexorably. Doyle swallowed the hard lump in his throat that had formed as the enemy forces slowly approached. He moved back to his command chair and pressed a control on the armrest console, and the image stabilized to a tactical view. Two of the attack fighters swarmed around the forward section of the Tempest, boxing them in, while the remaining Jem’Hadar ship took position at their exposed and defenseless aft. No way forward. No way back. The lead Jem’Hadar ship powered up its engines, its weapons ports glowing as they prepared to fire. Ready to make a final attack run. Marcus Doyle did not feel fear at that moment. Instead he felt outrage and anger. Like Hell was Doyle going to let these arrogant bastards the satisfaction of admitting defeat. “Okay, then. If they want a fight, then let’s damn well give them a good one.” But before he could issue the order, in the moment the Jem’Hadar ship sprang forward to land a decisive, destructive blow– -- a volley of quantum torpedoes, accompanied by an almighty barrage of phaser fire, slammed into the vessel with unmatched ferocity. It exploded from the sheer might of the onslaught, the sister ship in close proximity abruptly moving clear of the debris. Through that growing cloud of torn metal and fading energies, a catamaran-shaped vessel emerged. Krendan's cry of joy filled the bridge, “It’s the Excellence!” As the Akira-class starship glided by, continuing to fire phasers at the enemy vessels trying vainly to avoid their strikes, several smaller ships emerged from the Excellence’s aft-mounted shuttle hangers. Breaking off and maneuvering with amazing swiftness and grace, the two squadrons of Peregrine-X fighters joined the fight, bringing their own micro-torpedoes and pulse phaser cannons to bear. “Excellence has engaged the remaining attack ship to fore!” Laya squeaked, before regaining her composure, “The fighters are taking on the ship at our aft.” Lewis grinned from ear to ear as he stood at Doyle’s side, “The cavalry turned up.” Doyle breathed a sigh of relief, feeling as if the specter of defeat had finally let them be, “Leave it to Valerie to be fashionably late, I guess.” Overhead lights flickered back to full-strength. Sokath, attending the scorched engineering MSD, was quick to report the good news, “Warp power has stabilized. Shields restored to 82%.” Her words seem to act like a good luck charm. Laya reported that forward short-range sensors were back on-line, while Krendan gleefully announced that the helm was responding and he had impulse engines ready. Doyle looked over at his tactical officer, “Mr. Ravin, how’s your manual targeting?” The canine-esque humanoid grinned wickedly, understanding what his captain was thinking and agreeing wholeheartedly, “It will suffice, Captain.” Lero nodded her agreement. They were down, but they weren’t out. The Excellence was designed for combat, but even an Akira-class with a full fighter complement would need back-up to take on two Jem'Hadar attack ships on their own. Doyle and Lewis retook their seats, as the Irishman smiled wolfishly, “Then let’s get back in the fight.” “Engage!” ============================
Chapter EIGHT First Officer’s Log, stardate 51006.9: Both the Tempest and Excellence are undergoing repairs. The Keller has returned to the system, with minor casualties but no fatalities, and engineers have been dispatched to offer help. We are currently on station continuing with aid efforts, while the Excellence and her fighter squadron keep an eye out for any trouble. + + + As the transporter effect faded away, Archer Lewis pulled out the most dazzling smile of his repertoire, “Seems they’ll give anyone that fourth pip these days.” In response, Valerie Harper playfully stuck her tongue out at her old comrade-in-arms, “Zip it, Counselor. After forcing me to put up with you, promoting me was the least Starfleet Command could do!” She practically bounced her way off the transporter platform, to sweep Lewis up in a tight hug, “It’s so good to see you.” “Same,” Lewis replied before giving her a final squeeze and letting her go, “But command looks like it’s doing you good.” It wasn’t an exaggeration, either. Harper had always been a beautiful woman to behold, but now she seemed even more stunning. In that line of work, you either flourished or folded quickly. Valerie had clearly found her footing easily. “It keeps me busy,” she replied, blushing in a subtle way, thanks to her Mediterranean heritage. Modest as ever, Harper wasn’t one to deny praise, but she didn’t seek it out, either. She quickly offered a look of apology to Sokath, standing alongside Lewis, and the small, sturdily built woman with them, her arm in a sling, “Sorry, old shipmates.” Sokath offered a small nod in reply, as Lewis made brief introductions. When offered a hand by Harper in greeting, the other woman shook it heartily, “Not a problem, I understand.” She smiled politely, but with friendly warmth, “Denise Lenari, skipper of the Keller.” Harper looked curiously at the old-fashioned strap supporting the other woman’s arm, “You alright?” Lenari looked embarrassed, “Just a bad sprain.” She grinned with self-deprecating humility, “I did my residency under a doctor who espoused old-time methods, and her words stuck. With resources on the Keller stretched, I didn’t want to take my team away from the real patients.” Harper nodded, impressed. The measure of any good captain, be they Starfleet, merchant or civilian, was how they put their crew ahead of their own needs. She’d learnt that lesson herself under Marcus Doyle. As the two officers who’d come with her from the Excellence stepped off the platform, Harper introduced them, “Commander Xi’ian is my X.O., and Lieutenant Newmahn is my Ops Officer.” Lewis nodded greetings to the devastatingly-handsome Deltan man, and gave a sly wink to the svelte Austrian-born woman with ice-blonde hair, “Good to see you again, Marti.” Though her face remained stoic, Martina Newmahn’s eyes glinted with mischief, “Counselor. Perhaps you’ll be able to give me that bottle of Saurian brandy you still owe me today?” Lewis grimaced, “I was hoping you’d forgotten that by now.” Harper tutted with mock-disapproval, “Come now. Poker debt can wait until after we have our briefing.” Her feelings of joy at the reunion quickly abated as the guilt she’d been nursing for the past few hours reared its ugly head again. “We have a lot to talk about.” + + + “They caught us with our pants down.” The Observation Lounge at the rear of Deck One hadn’t been spared damage from the earlier battle. The conference table was clear now, but it still bore scratches and a slight impact crack from where the panel over an environmental relay had collapsed onto it. Rania Lero sat at the head of the table, alongside Lewis and Sokath. Captain Harper and her two officers, alongside Dr. Lenari. Nominally, Lero was running the meeting, but Harper was a more senior officer in rank, so she’d started things off. Unfortunately, she’d begun venting her self-recrimination almost straight away. Her sense of shame grew with each word as she admitted to her failings, “The Jem’Hadar ships took us by complete surprise, disabling our communications array and knocking warp drive out.” “They somehow used the Rolor Nebula to avoid our sensors, sneaking up on us,” supplied Newmahn. Another old-hand from the Sentry, she’d joined the crew as a junior officer on the command track. Now, her time in service and commendations from Doyle and Harper had earned her the billet of Ops Manager on the Excellence. She’d learned a lot from her superiors, and now felt like she’d only let down their faith in her, “Before we knew what had happened, they detonated a large pocket of sirillium gas, which overloaded most of our shield generators.” Xi’ian, the striking Deltan first officer spoke up, “We managed to get a weapons lock and destroy one of the fighters, and inflict significant damage to the other two.” He clenched his clasped hands tightly, “But we were unable to send you any advance warning.” “They knew just where to hit us,” Harper spat in disgust. “We got lucky that the sirillium explosion also weakened their shields.” Lero mentally reviewed the initial moments of battle, and the report on the condition of the attack fighters, “That explains the state of the two ships that came from the edge of the system.” Lewis offered his friend a reassuring smile, “You gave them a bloody nose, Valerie. Kept them busy and reduced the number of combatants we had to deal with.” Harper wasn’t having it, “Nevertheless, I’ll be submitting all this in my after-action report and making sure Admiral MacKenzie is aware I take full responsibility for this.” Xi’ian’s jaw flexed. He did not like his captain talking down about herself. She was no more at fault than any of the rest of the crew. Moreover, Lero was in complete agreement with the Deltan. “All due respect, Captain Harper,” Lero responded, keeping her voice level but with a hint of the iron will that had served her in good stead in her career. “You took on two wings of Jem’Hadar fighters, and came through it with your ship and your crew intact. Take the win.” Harper smiled sardonically. The Bolian’s words brought back a lot of memories - good and bad - of serving on the Sentry. But she appreciated them, nonetheless. “Damn, Commander. You’ve only served with Marcus Doyle for just about a week, and you’re already sounding like him.” Lero allowed herself a small smile at the comparison. “I will take that as the compliment I’m sure it was intended as, Captain. Thank you.” “I believe I can explain how the Jem’Hadar ships were able to ‘sneak up’, as you say,” Sokath interjected. With a light press of a control, a holographic image of one of the fighters appeared above the conference table. “Scans of the engines of all five ships show that they were emitting an unusual wave-form frequency,” he explained, as the hologram was illuminated by several marker points. “It appears that they were able to remodulate their warp signatures in some way to render them undetectable to conventional sensors until they drop from warp.” With an appalled grimace of realization, Lewis muttered, “A couple of civilian ships like the Keller and Medusa didn’t have a hope in Hell of spotting them before they were all over them.” Harper whistled, as she read the damage indicators on the hologram, “Whatever they did, it looks like it did a number on their warp coils. That must be why it took them so long to get from Rolor to Reshii. It would have seriously impeded their ability to sustain warp.” Lero frowned, hoping her tongo-face was still intact. If the Dominion had found some way to essentially hide their ships from scans, it could be disastrous. “It’s no cloaking device, but still. We should have Commander Kayrene look over the scans, see if s/he can find a way around it.” Sokath nodded briskly. “The commander is already investigating,” he replied. “S/he is also consulting with Lieutenant Faran in Stellar Cartography, as his multispectral astrometric sensors may have picked up more detail, even in passive mode.” Xi’ian spoke up, after exchanging meaningful looks with Harper, who nodded her agreement, having already had the same thought, “Our science officer, Lieutenant Kallax, is something of a ‘wunderkind’ in subspace field theory. They may be off assistance.” “The more the merrier,” Lero agreed. “The sooner we rob the Dominion of any tactical advantage, the easier we’ll all feel, I’m sure.” Despite her words, though, Rania Lero continued to feel ill at ease. Although having an answer to the question of why the Dominion had so easily pounced on both the Excellence and the medical convoy was comforting… …it also seemed to inevitably lead to even more questions. + + + Sickbay had finally settled into a modicum of quiet, allowing Tamara Levitt to finally take stock of recent developments, sitting silently in her office. Kallin had been moved to guest quarters, albeit under guard, with limited access to the library computer and replicator. Still, it was better than being thrown into a cell in the brig. “Mara..?” Opening her eyes, Tamara wasn’t surprised to see that Marcus had dropped by to see her. She wondered idly if she looked just as tired and wiped out as he did. Yes, he hid it well under the mask of ‘command’, but she knew him well enough to see just how much recent events had taken it out of him. “Marc? What can I do for you?” He didn’t even put up any pretence, either, which she was thankful for. He shrugged nonchalantly, “I wanted to come see how you were.” He sat down opposite her, a hand stretched out across the desk to her, “After… well, what happened.” Tamara reached and took his hand, squeezed it as a reminder she was still alive. That she had survived everything life had thrown at her. “I appreciate that, Marc, thank you.” It still had yet to sink in for Tamara. Russell Kingston was dead. In her darkest moments, she had wondered if his death would bring her peace. A sense of vindication or justice that his crimes against her had been punished. But in the reality of it, she felt nothing like that. Even the hatred she had nursed for him over the years now seemed a distant memory. Tamara didn’t have it in her to mourn him. He didn’t deserve it. But she would say a prayer for him. That he would be able to find in death whatever peace he’d been denied, to make him such a cruel man in life. Marcus had only very recently become one of only a handful of people who knew of her fractious relationship with her former husband. After Ravin had briefed him about the incident, Tamara had gone to him and come clean, giving him the edited highlights, as it were. She’d had no desire to rehash the more painful memories of her marriage with him, despite their closeness and emotional bond. Nor did she wish to be the subject of pity, or risk Marcus losing his rather fierce temper with Kingston the next time they might have met. Russell knew too many of the ‘right people’ and it could have cost Marcus dearly if he let his emotions get the better of him. But after what she and Marcus had once shared, he deserved to know at least part of the truth. “As much as I loathed him, no one deserves to die like that.” She passed Marcus a PADD she had ready on her desk, “We only managed to retrieve 27 members of the Medusa’s crew. They’ve all been treated, a few still critical but under observation.” It was a shockingly low number. The rest of the crew onboard had died either when the core breached and destroyed the ship, or because their patterns had been too degraded to rematerialize intact. Doyle nodded, barely glancing at the PADD before his gaze fell back on her, “We’ll set them up in guest quarters, we’ve got plenty of space for them.” He was dying to sate his curiosity. He’d never even known Tamara had been married, no matter how brief a time. What had drawn her to Kingston? But he respected and loved Tamara deeply, knew how intensely she protected her privacy, while still being an open and caring person who connected emotionally with each and every patient. Her Betazoid gifts only confirmed for Tamara what she already knew just by looking at Doyle’s worried countenance. She offered him a soft, wry smile, “One day, Marc. I will tell you all about it. About what me and Russell had.” Her smile faded, “About what we lost.” “But not today. I– I’m just not ready.” Doyle squeezed her hand one more time before letting go. “I understand.” Standing, he leaned over the desk and kissed her gently on the forehead, affectionately rubbing her hair, “Just remember I’m here for you. Like you were for me.” The intimate gesture touched Tamara deeply, her heart swelling with love for her dear friend, “Thank you.” “Any time,” Doyle quipped with a wry smile. “Come on. When was the last time you had a break away from Sickbay?” As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Marc was right. So, taking a moment to re-centre herself, the Betazoid stood, smoothing the kinks out of her rumpled uniform, and actually doing a decent job of it. Before she could take Marc’s offered hand, her terminal beeped for urgent attention. “Hang on, sorry.” She pulled up the new data screen, and couldn’t help the gasp that left her lips before she had a chance to organize her thoughts. Doyle was immediately on alert. “What is it?” “The comparative analysis came through.” She met Marc’s gaze, a slowly forming pit of dread forming in her belly. Honestly, she should not have been surprised, given everything she’d studied in the last week. Know your enemy, as the human philosopher Sun Tzu said. She turned the monitor around to show her captain and friend the damning report. “I guess a break is going to have to wait,” he murmured, trying to get a handle on the ember of anger burning within him as he read. ‘No rest for the weary’, wasn’t that the saying? + + + Only moments earlier, staring out of the small observation port of her guest quarters, Kallin had felt an abounding sense of freedom. With nothing but the dark void of space to gaze out at, it had been exhilarating in a way she’d only experienced a handful of times. During her time in service to the Founders, for the greater good of the Dominion, those kinds of moments were few and far between. She had learned to enjoy them for as long as possible. Because the truth was, she would never truly escape from the black cloud that was her past. Any sense of that had all been an illusion. Standing, Kallin cleared her throat to give herself a moment more to absorb the information she’d just been given by Captain Doyle and Dr. Levitt. They sat across from her, waiting for some kind - any kind - of response. “I must admit that I am not surprised,” she finally admitted. “Although I was unaware of any tactical strategies put into motion, I did wonder about the timing of this illness and the Dominion’s interest in expanding towards this area.” Marcus Doyle watched the waif-like woman as she stood and paced, needing to burn off some anxious energy at the turn of events. From years of poker games held between junior officers and enlisted, not to mention sensitive diplomatic negotiations and first contact meetings, he liked to think he’d developed a pretty good instinct on reading people. It was that instinct that told him that Kallin was downplaying just how horrified she actually was. That perhaps some of her own work as a xenobiologist had been usurped and moulded into a weapon. She tried to push her feelings of guilt away for the moment, and focus on the problem at hand, “I assume you are aware that the Dominion has a long-standing history of bio-warfare?” “Very much so,” Tamara answered, not keeping the disgust from her tone. “Dr. Bashir of DS9 documented in detail the Teplan Blight.” Kallin nodded gravely, “Just one example out of dozens, I’m afraid.” Resuming her seat, the Vorta placed her hands in her lap, “Worlds your people have never heard off, across the entirety of what you call the Gamma Quadrant. Victims just like the Teplans to specifically bioengineered viruses and diseases.” “Except,” Tamara was quick to point out, “that this isn’t acting like a virus. It’s a tailored microorganism.” She handed a PADD to Kallin, which displayed a DNA schematic, with several of the nucleotide sequences highlighted, “It has characteristics of the signatures of both Dominion genetic engineering and Cardassian molecular resequencing.” Kallin considered the PADD for a moment. She remembered a report that had come to her attention shortly before her ‘departure’. “The Cardassian Ministry of Science has long researched the use of metagenic weapons, of taking virus samples and modifying them to attack designated targets.” Doyle shivered in revulsion, “Yes, I’ve read that as well. Thankfully, after our last conflict with them, the peace treaty we co-signed restricted such developments.” He grimaced, “Not that the treaty is worth a damn anymore.” “Indeed,” Kallin agreed, remembering some more details of what she’d seen. “There was also talk of using the work of a Dr. Moset..?” This time, it was Tamara who made no effort to disguise her extreme distaste at the mention of the so-called ‘scientist’. “Crell Moset. He calls himself an exobiologist, but he’s really a butcher. Hundreds died because of his experiments on Bajor.” She pursed her lips, feeling dirty just even thinking about the ‘work’ he did, “Nothing good would ever come of his work.” “Agreed.” Kallin handed the PADD back. “My ship? Did you retrieve it?” Off Doyle’s affirming nod and curious askance look, Kallin elaborated, “As I said earlier, the facility I was at was focusing on both theoretical and practical research into bio-engineering, although I myself was not aware of any actual weaponized items.” “That said,” she continued, a burgeoning feeling of hope fluttering in her stomach, “perhaps the data within my ship’s computer might be able to assist with your analysis?” Tamara lit up at the suggestion, “Yes! I mean, that could very well be a big help. An already comprehensive genetic breakdown of the microorganism in an unaltered state, and any other data that might be useful, would allow us to understand it.” “And if we understand it, we can fight it.” ============================
Nice - we have an inside track on a bioweapon story. Always good to have an outsider who was previously an insider for the most dangerous adversary the federation has yet seen. Thanks!! rbs