Of course, no worries. I know you wouldn't create such a sweeping twist without backstorying it properly first. Looking forward to finding out. 
STAR TREK: KHITOMER
- Thread starter 47
- Start date
but thats the point the us didnt design new hospital ships they had oiltankers converted. give it the best cloak and sensors and without wepon systems wont need as much power so wouldnt need a military grade warp core maybe even bunks for an SCE detatchment?
youre right about needing a new dauntless but what good would it be if there is no one left to crew it? what ever happened to the pegasis cloaking technology? a phase cloak might be handy?
Hmmm ... You're having good ideas. They could convert non-fighting ships into hospital ships. But then why not equip battleships with an advanced Sickbay (maybe by converting a couple of docking bays), since obviously the battleships WOULD have the best cloaks and sensors.
As for the Pegasus technology ... I'm a little scared of developing the Ultimate, Super-Stealthy (USS
) Battleship, which will make my story just a matter of "Mine is bigger than yours". Surely the Federation needs a bigger stick. I just don't want to give them Fred Flintstone's bludgeon or Thor's hammer too quickly.But it's another good idea. Keep them coming!
power consumption? and that they could double as scout ships and if needed as command vessels that and if the feds are in that bad of shape then scrunging will happen and i cant see the point of not recycleing the ships that cant be retrofitted into fighting ships. ships like... the primary hull of a galaxy class ship after the stardrive section is destroyed? that would be a perfect starting point... or oberth class vessles? little to no teeth b "todays" standards but sensors out the wazoo. i could imagine older ships being gutted for holodecks to become holographic sickbays after all holo docs rule.
also would you send a battleship to help with a colony wide medical emergancy when it might be needed at the frontline?
As for the Pegasus technology ... I'm a little scared of developing the Ultimate, Super-Stealthy (USS
But it's another good idea. Keep them coming!
it wouldnt be thors hammer if it couldnt work on the battle barges. it could say interfere with the sheild harmonics of ships with sheilds designed to fight borg wepons
***
also your year one enterprise made me think how about colony ships? i mean why put a colony on a planet with the borg on one side and the dominion on the other might as well put a homeing beacon saying planet busters shoot here it wouldnt have to be fast or even armed (except for fighters and marines) just huge, mobile, and able to hide really good. heck to save on power consumption and to show up less on enemy sensors you could use rotation for graviry and hydroponic means for air-recyceling, those methods could produce more food than needed so poof trade surplus i mean if things were that bad replicators would be needed for parts (think voyager)
February 16, 2064
It happened less than one year after the first contact between Humans and Vulcans, following the first warp flight of the Phoenix.
The Borg were not yet the incredibly powerful, almost invincible force they were in the 24th century, but they were indubitably the most powerful race in the galaxy. They had conquered a few systems, but they were more after occupying spaces of strategic and scientific importance than assimilating civilizations.
Until that fateful day …
The Borg home was in the Delta Quadrant, but they had bases all over the galaxy, mostly on the outskirts. They planned to explore completely, inside and out, our Milky Way.
***
It happened in the Beta Quadrant.
A mysterious ship was approaching the outskirts of the galaxy at a yet unthought-of speed. One Cube — the Borg had chosen that shape long ago for their long-range ships — was sent to intercept and inquire. At that time, a Cube was about the strength of a Sovereign-Class starship — more than three centuries before the USS Sovereign, first of the new class, left Utopia Planitia.
The Cube was at half a light-year of the visitor when it was blown to bits by what seemed to be a plasma weapon. The Queen knew instantly what had happened, but had too little information to start working on countermeasures. All she could do was send every other Cube in the sector to intercept the visitor.
Twenty-one Cubes were sent to battle. They fired as soon as they could, but did not even slow down the visitor. When it fired, it spread its discharge, still blowing eighteen of the Cubes, and severely harming the other three, letting them disabled and floating in space.
***
For decades, that single invader had roamed the galaxy. It had met Dominion warships and destroyed them. It had met the Andorians, the Ferengis, the Klingons, the Romulans, the Vulcans, crippling or destroying every ship or fleet trying to intercept it. But it was mostly looking for the Borg. The Borg had been the first to attack it. The Borg had become its target.
On March 6, 2111, finally the Collective lured the ship back where it had entered the galaxy and met it with more than three thousand Cubes. The fight lasted six hours, and the visitor was at last defeated. It crashed on an unnamed, desolated, Demon-Class planet, where life was almost impossible. It took weeks to the Borg to clean up their own mess. Even after that time, some remains were left.
Then they came to study the defeated enemy. The first drones approaching the wreckage died instantly of unknown cause. The ships around the planet started experiencing radical system failures. Weapons, life support, navigation: every system was going berserk. So they decided to destroy the infected ships, and only the few ones still working left for home, in the Delta Quadrant.
The Collective decided then that they would do everything in their power to become more powerful, in order to resist any future return of the Visitors. They would forget about exploration and research and would concentrate on finding and assimilating every new technology susceptible of helping them in the event of such a return.
But that decision did not please everyone …
***
January 16, 2400
Wilkins was trying to absorb all the horror of Sabrina Watson's situation. He couldn't. It was too much, even for him.
"When you say she won't feel anything, you mean on her right side?"
"No, Admiral. There's no way to coat artificial skin on more than half of her body and leave the original skin on the rest. It simply will be rejected by the body, unless we can integrate it completely to her system. We can't do that unless we perform a complete replacement."
"Aren't there drugs which could allow her to keep her left side?"
"Again, having to replace more than half her skin would mean such a dosage that her body would collapse in a matter of days."
Wilkins looked at Fillmore. He knew all that, but he had hoped that his medical background wasn't quite up to date, and that there was a way for the young woman, that child, to keep at least part of her external sensibility …
"Believe me, Admiral, it's better than what she's still going through as we speak."
"She's still in pain, huh?"
"As much as before we started treating her. I'm afraid our painkillers have no more effect on her, and we can't give her more or more powerful than what we have pumped into her until now …"
"How can she endure that?"
"No idea. I've been told that at night, on the Chameleon, she couldn't sleep, as she was trying to find what else she could do to make things better for her crew, and of course the pain was searing all of her body. Here, we have all the best medical facilities, and it's as if we had nothing. Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't be more humane to just … let her go."
***
"You are a Colonel, are you not, Torres?"
B'Elanna didn't like Tomalak. She found him arrogant — like a typical Romulan — and too old-fashioned to ever be trustworthy. But the current situation was such that she had to fight her repugnance at even looking at him.
"Yes, Proconsul."
"And Karov is a General. Tell me, is it because he is a purebred and you're not?"
B'Elanna smiled. Nice try, Rommie!
"Are you only a Proconsul because you are an old fart?"
Tomalak turned around, looked at her.
"Maybe", he said with a half-smile. "Why did you accept this mission?"
"Liaison with the Federation? It seemed quite … logical to select me. I'm half-human, I've spent years in Starfleet, my daughter is in Starfleet, I know Starfleet protocols, I may be the only Klingon who can teach things about Federation ships to Chancellor Worf … and he knows that nobody, but nobody will succeed at making a fool of me."
Tomalak noticed the hidden half-threat. He smiled and asked:
"I agree. It was logical to select you. But why did you accept?"
So, you want to know why I'm here, you green-blooded p'tahk. You think that you can just make me spill the beans and tell you all about the Klingon agenda. Well, I guess I'll have to start thinking like that Cardassian I met years ago, who taught me that the truth was usually just an excuse for a lack of imagination …
"Well, after my husband's death, I decided that I could not live alone, and that only Klingons would be good enough for me. So I went to Qo'noS where I made my way up by sleeping with every influential official, male and female alike, I could seduce. I went up and up, until I met Worf. As you know, he is presently married with that Betazoid, but he swears that he'll leave her for me if I succeed in my mission and bring Starfleet into the Imperial Klingon Fleet."
Tomalak smiled. He would not be fooled so easily and obviously that female knew it.
"Well, that's a very interesting story. I didn't know Klingons had imagination. Of course, you're not a purebred …"
It happened less than one year after the first contact between Humans and Vulcans, following the first warp flight of the Phoenix.
The Borg were not yet the incredibly powerful, almost invincible force they were in the 24th century, but they were indubitably the most powerful race in the galaxy. They had conquered a few systems, but they were more after occupying spaces of strategic and scientific importance than assimilating civilizations.
Until that fateful day …
The Borg home was in the Delta Quadrant, but they had bases all over the galaxy, mostly on the outskirts. They planned to explore completely, inside and out, our Milky Way.
***
It happened in the Beta Quadrant.
A mysterious ship was approaching the outskirts of the galaxy at a yet unthought-of speed. One Cube — the Borg had chosen that shape long ago for their long-range ships — was sent to intercept and inquire. At that time, a Cube was about the strength of a Sovereign-Class starship — more than three centuries before the USS Sovereign, first of the new class, left Utopia Planitia.
The Cube was at half a light-year of the visitor when it was blown to bits by what seemed to be a plasma weapon. The Queen knew instantly what had happened, but had too little information to start working on countermeasures. All she could do was send every other Cube in the sector to intercept the visitor.
Twenty-one Cubes were sent to battle. They fired as soon as they could, but did not even slow down the visitor. When it fired, it spread its discharge, still blowing eighteen of the Cubes, and severely harming the other three, letting them disabled and floating in space.
***
For decades, that single invader had roamed the galaxy. It had met Dominion warships and destroyed them. It had met the Andorians, the Ferengis, the Klingons, the Romulans, the Vulcans, crippling or destroying every ship or fleet trying to intercept it. But it was mostly looking for the Borg. The Borg had been the first to attack it. The Borg had become its target.
On March 6, 2111, finally the Collective lured the ship back where it had entered the galaxy and met it with more than three thousand Cubes. The fight lasted six hours, and the visitor was at last defeated. It crashed on an unnamed, desolated, Demon-Class planet, where life was almost impossible. It took weeks to the Borg to clean up their own mess. Even after that time, some remains were left.
Then they came to study the defeated enemy. The first drones approaching the wreckage died instantly of unknown cause. The ships around the planet started experiencing radical system failures. Weapons, life support, navigation: every system was going berserk. So they decided to destroy the infected ships, and only the few ones still working left for home, in the Delta Quadrant.
The Collective decided then that they would do everything in their power to become more powerful, in order to resist any future return of the Visitors. They would forget about exploration and research and would concentrate on finding and assimilating every new technology susceptible of helping them in the event of such a return.
But that decision did not please everyone …
***
January 16, 2400
Wilkins was trying to absorb all the horror of Sabrina Watson's situation. He couldn't. It was too much, even for him.
"When you say she won't feel anything, you mean on her right side?"
"No, Admiral. There's no way to coat artificial skin on more than half of her body and leave the original skin on the rest. It simply will be rejected by the body, unless we can integrate it completely to her system. We can't do that unless we perform a complete replacement."
"Aren't there drugs which could allow her to keep her left side?"
"Again, having to replace more than half her skin would mean such a dosage that her body would collapse in a matter of days."
Wilkins looked at Fillmore. He knew all that, but he had hoped that his medical background wasn't quite up to date, and that there was a way for the young woman, that child, to keep at least part of her external sensibility …
"Believe me, Admiral, it's better than what she's still going through as we speak."
"She's still in pain, huh?"
"As much as before we started treating her. I'm afraid our painkillers have no more effect on her, and we can't give her more or more powerful than what we have pumped into her until now …"
"How can she endure that?"
"No idea. I've been told that at night, on the Chameleon, she couldn't sleep, as she was trying to find what else she could do to make things better for her crew, and of course the pain was searing all of her body. Here, we have all the best medical facilities, and it's as if we had nothing. Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't be more humane to just … let her go."
***
"You are a Colonel, are you not, Torres?"
B'Elanna didn't like Tomalak. She found him arrogant — like a typical Romulan — and too old-fashioned to ever be trustworthy. But the current situation was such that she had to fight her repugnance at even looking at him.
"Yes, Proconsul."
"And Karov is a General. Tell me, is it because he is a purebred and you're not?"
B'Elanna smiled. Nice try, Rommie!
"Are you only a Proconsul because you are an old fart?"
Tomalak turned around, looked at her.
"Maybe", he said with a half-smile. "Why did you accept this mission?"
"Liaison with the Federation? It seemed quite … logical to select me. I'm half-human, I've spent years in Starfleet, my daughter is in Starfleet, I know Starfleet protocols, I may be the only Klingon who can teach things about Federation ships to Chancellor Worf … and he knows that nobody, but nobody will succeed at making a fool of me."
Tomalak noticed the hidden half-threat. He smiled and asked:
"I agree. It was logical to select you. But why did you accept?"
So, you want to know why I'm here, you green-blooded p'tahk. You think that you can just make me spill the beans and tell you all about the Klingon agenda. Well, I guess I'll have to start thinking like that Cardassian I met years ago, who taught me that the truth was usually just an excuse for a lack of imagination …
"Well, after my husband's death, I decided that I could not live alone, and that only Klingons would be good enough for me. So I went to Qo'noS where I made my way up by sleeping with every influential official, male and female alike, I could seduce. I went up and up, until I met Worf. As you know, he is presently married with that Betazoid, but he swears that he'll leave her for me if I succeed in my mission and bring Starfleet into the Imperial Klingon Fleet."
Tomalak smiled. He would not be fooled so easily and obviously that female knew it.
"Well, that's a very interesting story. I didn't know Klingons had imagination. Of course, you're not a purebred …"
A very ominous opening, and an excellent backstory explanation for the current motivation of the Borg. Early paranoia for a nearly unstoppable enemy makes perfect sense.
Tomalak and Torres's interaction was perfect, you have grasped their characters well from the onset, I hope we see more of both as you keep upping the dramatic ante. Loved the part where Tomalak knew she was lying about sleeping her way to the top, lol.
Tomalak and Torres's interaction was perfect, you have grasped their characters well from the onset, I hope we see more of both as you keep upping the dramatic ante. Loved the part where Tomalak knew she was lying about sleeping her way to the top, lol.
Thank you. The Borg part is in fact a rehash from one of my earlier stories, but I'll be taking it in a quite different direction this time. In fact, it has already started ...
As for T/T, it first came as a filler. But yes, I think that Tomalak and Torres are a good pair, especially at that time when Klingons and Romulans still despise each other, but start to understand that they may be stuck with each other for a long time. Definitely expect some more sparring between those two.
Maybe in Chapter Four, I plan to introduce another Klingon/Romulan pair. That one will ... No, not now. You'll see.
As for T/T, it first came as a filler. But yes, I think that Tomalak and Torres are a good pair, especially at that time when Klingons and Romulans still despise each other, but start to understand that they may be stuck with each other for a long time. Definitely expect some more sparring between those two.
Maybe in Chapter Four, I plan to introduce another Klingon/Romulan pair. That one will ... No, not now. You'll see.
Polyvalent ships of a new breed: scout and rescue. Interesting. Some ships could be recycled, eventually a new class.
Hmmm ... Star Trek: BSG ... There could be something in there, but not exactly that way.
You know I'm keeping all of your (and others) ideas on file, right? First collaborative story on TrekBS since "The Future Timeline"! I love it!
hellsgate
Commodore
I could see a few M*A*S*H* units, though, I'd ~also~ explore a few defecting Borg & a reasonable amount of "confiscated" vehicles by a benign Borg Confederation.
The Borg Confederation consisted of the few Borg who had survived their assimilations at Wolf 359 (among other ancient conflicts,) & each respective cube's security measures that suppressed individual will.
They temporarily withdrew from the Collective & lost many of their number as infighting between revived cliques of shifting alliances corroded their efforts to realize their potential before the USS Voyager intervened & rebooted their neural interface frequencies.
Now, after being assaulted by equal technology, the decision to join the strife riven galactic community-at-large wasn't an easy one.
They'd assimilated Humans, Binars, Vulcans, Tellarites, Klingons & a far many more species. Somehow, through what many decided was a divine spark of remorse, repentance, & attrition, they'd organized & finally decided they'd assist in the current struggle.
Coldly, they'd rather join a battle they had a hope of winning & have a chance to go home again, than go it alone against the universe likely to implode in M.A.D. (mutually-assured destruction.)
The free-thinking Borg are few & discreet, often taking lives to keep from being exploited & reprogrammed by more-prepared drones before the Confederation could be properly tactically prepared to make significant in-roads to Borg Prime or other significant targets in order to assure their freedoms.
The Borg Confederation has been known to offer some of their facilities "under a white flag" to it's (formerly) "A.Q. Alliance" allies as duckblinds, hospitals, & shipyards for small to moderate-sized Starfleet vessels in their Queens'-Sphere docking bay in emergency situations or whenever enhancing "A.Q. Alliance" assets in their favor has suited their objectives.
The Borg Confederation consisted of the few Borg who had survived their assimilations at Wolf 359 (among other ancient conflicts,) & each respective cube's security measures that suppressed individual will.
They temporarily withdrew from the Collective & lost many of their number as infighting between revived cliques of shifting alliances corroded their efforts to realize their potential before the USS Voyager intervened & rebooted their neural interface frequencies.
Now, after being assaulted by equal technology, the decision to join the strife riven galactic community-at-large wasn't an easy one.
They'd assimilated Humans, Binars, Vulcans, Tellarites, Klingons & a far many more species. Somehow, through what many decided was a divine spark of remorse, repentance, & attrition, they'd organized & finally decided they'd assist in the current struggle.
Coldly, they'd rather join a battle they had a hope of winning & have a chance to go home again, than go it alone against the universe likely to implode in M.A.D. (mutually-assured destruction.)
The free-thinking Borg are few & discreet, often taking lives to keep from being exploited & reprogrammed by more-prepared drones before the Confederation could be properly tactically prepared to make significant in-roads to Borg Prime or other significant targets in order to assure their freedoms.
The Borg Confederation has been known to offer some of their facilities "under a white flag" to it's (formerly) "A.Q. Alliance" allies as duckblinds, hospitals, & shipyards for small to moderate-sized Starfleet vessels in their Queens'-Sphere docking bay in emergency situations or whenever enhancing "A.Q. Alliance" assets in their favor has suited their objectives.
USS Masada, January 8, 2395
"So, you won't talk to me, Rommie?" the monster had asked Yirina for the nth time, smacking her once again in the eye.
You want me to talk, damn havam? I'll talk to you.
"You know, you really are … a dha'rudh. At the … Military Academy, we learn … Basic Interrogation Techniques. I could … torture … myself … better than you do."
The giant turned scarlet red.
"What did you just say?"
"What, are you deaf AND dumb? Don't you … kriheis'ei know that there are … thirty-two places on a Romulan torso you could … pierce with a thin blade, without … risking your subject's life, and inflicting her the most … excruciating pain? Can you read? Or … must I draw you a picture? Maybe if … you give me a blade I'll … demonstrate on myself?"
Yirina was getting her energy back, as she finally launched a counterattack. Watson started kicking her in the face as hard as he could, so hard that the chair fell. He jumped over her and kept beating her until his accomplices started holding him back.
"You don't understand! We have to know!" he screamed.
"She'll never confess anything, Jethro. Let's just send her back to her quarters. Nobody will listen to her tomorrow if we regenerate her skin before we let her go."
"You think … I'm going to risk … losing the chance of … kicking your … asses myself?" Yirina articulated painfully.
"What?"
"I'll … get all of you. I swear … Kholairlh-a ssaed-asi, you will … all pay. And you, dha'rudh, you … will be the last!"
***
January 16, 2400
"Crewman Sorel reporting for duty, Sir."
"Hey guys! The Rommie's back!" Watson jeered.
"Seems she likes the good care we take of her!"
"Is that it, Rommie? You appreciate the attention?"
"Crewman Sorel reporting for duty, Sir." Yirina repeated, impassively.
"Well, the Yorktown must have waste conduits. I guess as a former Chief Engineer, you can find them. Then you know what to do until I come to hug and kiss you. And since you obviously missed it, there will be a double portion tonight."
"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."
Yirina left, a big lump in her throat. Of course, she knew what to expect tonight. But if it was the price to pay for her own redemption, she would gladly keep paying it until the day when, like Monica, they would finally realize how wrong they were …
***
At the Salan shipyards, Admiral O'Brien and his daughter Molly were once again spending a lot of time reminiscing the past, but that was not why Molly had asked him to visit.
After the terrible shuttle accident which had taken the life of Kirayoshi, her kid brother, in 2386, and broken Keiko's heart and reason, Molly had remained with her father, declining Starfleet Academy's offer to join one full year before the normal age of 16. She had taken care of him until 2392, when he had finally found the energy to kick her ass out, and had accepted Starfleet Command's promotion to Commodore in charge of the Engineer Corps on the condition that Molly would be admitted on the basis of her previous tests.
So they had talked about the past, from DS9 to Earth, Starfleet Academy, the accident, Keiko's internment, his retirement, his return … It was now 2300.
"So, pumpkin", O'Brien asked, "what's the problem with the Chameleon?"
Miles Edward O'Brien was 72, but he still was sharper than a razor blade. His daughter wouldn't have invited him without a serious reason, and logically, the Chameleon had to be it.
Molly stood up and gave him a PADD.
"I'd like your analysis of this data, Daddy. It refers to some weapon signatures on the hull."
Miles O'Brien put his glasses on. Like James T. Kirk before him, he was allergic to all forms of Retinax, which was still the treatment of choice for all vision ailments.
"Huh! I see what you mean. That's not a standard Dominion signature."
"And it's certainly not Reman either. What does it make you think of, Daddy?"
"You know, don't you?"
"I'm not sure. They're very similar, but the magnetic resonance footprint seems quite different from everything collected on the ships we rescued from the Palomar Expanse, as if the weapons were based on the same technology, but had been developed in a different way, or for a different use."
"But you agree, pumpkin: those are Borg."
"Yes, Daddy. But either the Borg have two types of Cubes now, or …"
"The Borg and the Dominion are in cahoots!"
***
Let her go … Wilkins had thought about it for a minute. Surely that's what a Klingon would have done long ago. But somehow, he felt that the young woman bathing in the regenerating solution was a fighter who wouldn't want to die that way.
"Does she have a chance for a normal life?"
"As much as a life without the sense of touch can be normal, if the new skin integrates to her and her body accepts it, then it's only a matter of replacing the burned organs."
"I've never heard of such a case."
"Actually, I've heard of one. The girl had been tortured in such a way that they had had to replace her skin and bones completely."
Wilkins winced —again.
"You have to understand, Sir, that this girl has received only very basic medical attention for months. Had a real doctor and sickbay been available, she would most probably be standing on her own — well, on two feet anyway."
"No one was left with any medical training on the Chameleon?"
"No, just basic medical training. But Sickbay had been destroyed in the first attack. Your little Lieutenant had to endure all that pain for more than three months, with only basic care. When she arrived here, we sedated her with the most powerful drugs we had, drugs which at that dosage should be able to stop a charging herd of elephants in heat in a nanosecond, but it still took several minutes before she finally fell asleep, trying to say 'Thank you'. Admiral, I've never seen anything like this, or met anyone like her."
Wilkins looked at the scarred little body, softly placing the palm of his hand on the tank wall. As if she had heard or felt it, the little woman turned her head, looked at him and tried to extend her left hand towards his. She couldn't. It was too far. Wilkins left his hand on the wall.
"Your prognosis?"
"Right now, I'd say she has maybe fifteen percent chances of survival, Admiral. We have worked extensively on repairing the internal damage, but she'll need the skin, a new arm, a new lung, a new liver and a new kidney — besides the eye and the leg, of course. It will take weeks to synthesize …"
The frail little patient had let her arm down, but was still looking at Wilkins, trying to smile through the respiratory mask.
"Put her on my personal list."
"Sir?"
"My priority list, Doctor. I want her to become your number one priority, as much as medically possible. All right?"
"Yes, Sir. First she needs to get out of there and be … well, re-skinned. Then we have dozens of neurological tests to perform. But she is my priority from now on."
"Keep me appraised, Doctor. I too want to get acquainted with this very special young lady."
Wilkins couldn't leave, as the girl kept looking at him. Fillmore understood and finally let them both alone in the room …
"So, you won't talk to me, Rommie?" the monster had asked Yirina for the nth time, smacking her once again in the eye.
You want me to talk, damn havam? I'll talk to you.
"You know, you really are … a dha'rudh. At the … Military Academy, we learn … Basic Interrogation Techniques. I could … torture … myself … better than you do."
The giant turned scarlet red.
"What did you just say?"
"What, are you deaf AND dumb? Don't you … kriheis'ei know that there are … thirty-two places on a Romulan torso you could … pierce with a thin blade, without … risking your subject's life, and inflicting her the most … excruciating pain? Can you read? Or … must I draw you a picture? Maybe if … you give me a blade I'll … demonstrate on myself?"
Yirina was getting her energy back, as she finally launched a counterattack. Watson started kicking her in the face as hard as he could, so hard that the chair fell. He jumped over her and kept beating her until his accomplices started holding him back.
"You don't understand! We have to know!" he screamed.
"She'll never confess anything, Jethro. Let's just send her back to her quarters. Nobody will listen to her tomorrow if we regenerate her skin before we let her go."
"You think … I'm going to risk … losing the chance of … kicking your … asses myself?" Yirina articulated painfully.
"What?"
"I'll … get all of you. I swear … Kholairlh-a ssaed-asi, you will … all pay. And you, dha'rudh, you … will be the last!"
***
January 16, 2400
"Crewman Sorel reporting for duty, Sir."
"Hey guys! The Rommie's back!" Watson jeered.
"Seems she likes the good care we take of her!"
"Is that it, Rommie? You appreciate the attention?"
"Crewman Sorel reporting for duty, Sir." Yirina repeated, impassively.
"Well, the Yorktown must have waste conduits. I guess as a former Chief Engineer, you can find them. Then you know what to do until I come to hug and kiss you. And since you obviously missed it, there will be a double portion tonight."
"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."
Yirina left, a big lump in her throat. Of course, she knew what to expect tonight. But if it was the price to pay for her own redemption, she would gladly keep paying it until the day when, like Monica, they would finally realize how wrong they were …
***
At the Salan shipyards, Admiral O'Brien and his daughter Molly were once again spending a lot of time reminiscing the past, but that was not why Molly had asked him to visit.
After the terrible shuttle accident which had taken the life of Kirayoshi, her kid brother, in 2386, and broken Keiko's heart and reason, Molly had remained with her father, declining Starfleet Academy's offer to join one full year before the normal age of 16. She had taken care of him until 2392, when he had finally found the energy to kick her ass out, and had accepted Starfleet Command's promotion to Commodore in charge of the Engineer Corps on the condition that Molly would be admitted on the basis of her previous tests.
So they had talked about the past, from DS9 to Earth, Starfleet Academy, the accident, Keiko's internment, his retirement, his return … It was now 2300.
"So, pumpkin", O'Brien asked, "what's the problem with the Chameleon?"
Miles Edward O'Brien was 72, but he still was sharper than a razor blade. His daughter wouldn't have invited him without a serious reason, and logically, the Chameleon had to be it.
Molly stood up and gave him a PADD.
"I'd like your analysis of this data, Daddy. It refers to some weapon signatures on the hull."
Miles O'Brien put his glasses on. Like James T. Kirk before him, he was allergic to all forms of Retinax, which was still the treatment of choice for all vision ailments.
"Huh! I see what you mean. That's not a standard Dominion signature."
"And it's certainly not Reman either. What does it make you think of, Daddy?"
"You know, don't you?"
"I'm not sure. They're very similar, but the magnetic resonance footprint seems quite different from everything collected on the ships we rescued from the Palomar Expanse, as if the weapons were based on the same technology, but had been developed in a different way, or for a different use."
"But you agree, pumpkin: those are Borg."
"Yes, Daddy. But either the Borg have two types of Cubes now, or …"
"The Borg and the Dominion are in cahoots!"
***
Let her go … Wilkins had thought about it for a minute. Surely that's what a Klingon would have done long ago. But somehow, he felt that the young woman bathing in the regenerating solution was a fighter who wouldn't want to die that way.
"Does she have a chance for a normal life?"
"As much as a life without the sense of touch can be normal, if the new skin integrates to her and her body accepts it, then it's only a matter of replacing the burned organs."
"I've never heard of such a case."
"Actually, I've heard of one. The girl had been tortured in such a way that they had had to replace her skin and bones completely."
Wilkins winced —again.
"You have to understand, Sir, that this girl has received only very basic medical attention for months. Had a real doctor and sickbay been available, she would most probably be standing on her own — well, on two feet anyway."
"No one was left with any medical training on the Chameleon?"
"No, just basic medical training. But Sickbay had been destroyed in the first attack. Your little Lieutenant had to endure all that pain for more than three months, with only basic care. When she arrived here, we sedated her with the most powerful drugs we had, drugs which at that dosage should be able to stop a charging herd of elephants in heat in a nanosecond, but it still took several minutes before she finally fell asleep, trying to say 'Thank you'. Admiral, I've never seen anything like this, or met anyone like her."
Wilkins looked at the scarred little body, softly placing the palm of his hand on the tank wall. As if she had heard or felt it, the little woman turned her head, looked at him and tried to extend her left hand towards his. She couldn't. It was too far. Wilkins left his hand on the wall.
"Your prognosis?"
"Right now, I'd say she has maybe fifteen percent chances of survival, Admiral. We have worked extensively on repairing the internal damage, but she'll need the skin, a new arm, a new lung, a new liver and a new kidney — besides the eye and the leg, of course. It will take weeks to synthesize …"
The frail little patient had let her arm down, but was still looking at Wilkins, trying to smile through the respiratory mask.
"Put her on my personal list."
"Sir?"
"My priority list, Doctor. I want her to become your number one priority, as much as medically possible. All right?"
"Yes, Sir. First she needs to get out of there and be … well, re-skinned. Then we have dozens of neurological tests to perform. But she is my priority from now on."
"Keep me appraised, Doctor. I too want to get acquainted with this very special young lady."
Wilkins couldn't leave, as the girl kept looking at him. Fillmore understood and finally let them both alone in the room …
fix
n. the act of putting something in working order again [syn: repair,
fixing, mending, reparation]
v. to restore by replacing a part or putting together what is
torn or broken; "She repaired her TV set"; "Repair my
shoes please" [syn: repair, mend, bushel, doctor,
furbish up, restore, touch on] [ant: break]
CHAPTER THREE — CONSPIRACIES
January 26, 2400
The IKS Ch'Tang was a Klingon B'rel-class Bird of Prey that had served during the First Dominion War. It was General Martok's command ship during his raid on Trelka V in 2375. Worf had served as the ship's Second Officer on the mission, and Kor had served as Third Officer.
For Worf, it was a personal insult.
"How did they do that?"
The Ch'Tang was part of the large fleet orbiting around the Khitomer System when it had suddenly exploded. No one had any idea of what had happened. The ship had just been revised at the Gamma Eridon shipyards, and it was supposed to be — well, shipshape.
The Klingon engineers had tried to analyze the debris, without success. As a last resort, they had agreed to let Starfleet try their luck. Starfleet had sent Molly. She had performed her own little brand of O'Brien magic and was now reporting in front of the assembled High Council, with B'Elanna at her side.
"Our investigation, coupled with the reports we received from the monitoring stations on Khitomer III and the two ships, the Korinar and the M'Char, which were closest to the Ch'Tang at the time, confirm that the Ch'Tang was passively orbiting when the explosion happened in Engineering. It therefore cannot be an accident."
Worf looked at the smallish woman. He had known her long ago, when she was still a child, and was pleased to see the daughter of his friend Miles. But he couldn't show it.
"Who did it then?"
"The Chancellor knows very well who sabotaged and destroyed one of our proudest battleships!" someone screamed in the Hall. The brouhaha began. Molly chose to shut up, as no one would have heard anything anyway.
"SHUT UP!" Worf thundered.
The silence was instantly back. Worf turned to Molly and asked again:
"Who did it, Lieutenant?"
***
Kira and Ro had met the Bajoran government, and hated what they had heard.
"General, we Bajorans are peace lovers. The Dominion, not only is not at war with us, but actually protects us from the Borg."
"The Dominion is at war with the Federation!" Kira had screamed. "Bajor is part of the Federation! Or have you forgotten that?"
"Years ago, the Emissary told us that Bajor had to stand alone or suffer the consequences, General. Or have you forgotten that?"
"The Emissary was part of Starfleet! Have you forgotten that?"
First Minister Jaro hadn't changed much since the days of the Circle. How he had, by hook and by crook, found his way back in Bajoran politics, up to the summit, remained a mystery to all, and Kira hadn't forgotten how the man had had her tortured for information.
Now it seemed he was getting what he had always wanted: a clean break from the Federation. But at what price?
"He can't seriously think of making any kind of deal with the Dominion!"
"I don't know what can be in that man's head, Laren. I'll have to try to explain all that to Admiral Fox …"
"He won't like it."
"Why the hell would he?"
Charles Fox was in charge of the Bajoran Sector until a few weeks ago, when the Borg had charged through Federation space and forced the evacuation of all living things. He had been asked to keep his ships and troops in there, and they were now occupying Deep Space Nine, at the great displeasure of Commander Rashid, who had been affected to the station in 2384 and thought of it as a good place for retirement.
"Admiral Fox, Commander Rashid."
"General Kira, Colonel Ro. Maybe you could explain to me the meaning of this!" Fox had said, almost throwing the PADD at Kira, who caught him in extremis.
Kira started reading, as a mix of puzzlement and anger started blushing her face.
"THEY CAN'T DO THAT!"
***
Erika Benteen had taken command of the USS Yorktown, one of the new Sovereign-II ships out of the Mars shipyards, three years earlier. She had fought the Dominion several times, and every time brought her ship back to the dry dock. She was known as a fearless officer, yet a very much balanced and disciplined one. She had selected her senior crew the same way. Commander Hertzler, for instance, under a gruff exterior, hid a very high level of competence and compassion, which made him the ideal First Officer for her.
In front of her was a man she had not recruited, a man she would never have recruited in normal circumstances. But the last campaign had been costly in lives, and more than a hundred new crewmembers had just been transferred to the Yorktown.
That one really gave her the creeps, and it was not only because of his gruffer-than-Hertzler appearance, or his towering height, or his apparent total lack of sophistication. No, she just felt that that man had no place in an Engineering Room, much less in hers. But today was not the time for evaluation.
"Starfleet Medical had trouble finding you, Mister Watson."
"Medical, Sir?"
"You have a niece, Lieutenant Junior Grade Sabrina Helena Watson, serving on the Chameleon as Assistant Chief of Security, right?"
"I have a niece bearing that name, yes."
He had answered on the same tone he would have given his own name. Benteen and Hertzler looked at each other, surprised. Hertzler continued:
"She came back to Khitomer about three weeks ago, on the sixth exactly, very badly burned. She has been hospitalized and cared for since that time. Her doctors still don't know if she will survive, and they feel that your presence is required at her side, as quickly as possible."
"Why?"
Benteen and Hertzler once again looked at each other.
"Because, Mister Watson", Benteen continued, "your niece could die at any moment, and your presence might make her last days more bearable. The Yorktown will therefore leave for Qo'noS …"
"Excuse me, Captain, with all due respect, I'm not interested in seeing her."
"Trouble in the family, Lieutenant?"
"We are not a family anymore, Sir."
"She's your niece."
"Only by accident, Sir."
"And you're not interested in seeing her, making what might be her last days easier?" Benteen tried one last time.
"No, Sir."
"Very well, Mister Watson. Dismissed."
***
Three days earlier, the two huge men had met in the tavern and talked for a few minutes.
The older one had come in with a package and left.
The younger one was now leaving the place. He walked for some time in the darkest, narrowest streets of Qo'noS' First City, before he reached the door of the small bait shop.
He crossed the store quickly, entered the back store after typing a password on a keyboard, and from there was beamed to the Great Hall where several Klingons were waiting. He took off his hood, revealing his own Klingon face.
"So, do you have it?"
"Yes, General. Exactly what you ordered."
"Perfect. This time, it's not just a ship we'll destroy, it's a whole dry dock and all the ships in it. Our friends will be satisfied, and we'll kill two birds with one stone."
January 26, 2400
The IKS Ch'Tang was a Klingon B'rel-class Bird of Prey that had served during the First Dominion War. It was General Martok's command ship during his raid on Trelka V in 2375. Worf had served as the ship's Second Officer on the mission, and Kor had served as Third Officer.
For Worf, it was a personal insult.
"How did they do that?"
The Ch'Tang was part of the large fleet orbiting around the Khitomer System when it had suddenly exploded. No one had any idea of what had happened. The ship had just been revised at the Gamma Eridon shipyards, and it was supposed to be — well, shipshape.
The Klingon engineers had tried to analyze the debris, without success. As a last resort, they had agreed to let Starfleet try their luck. Starfleet had sent Molly. She had performed her own little brand of O'Brien magic and was now reporting in front of the assembled High Council, with B'Elanna at her side.
"Our investigation, coupled with the reports we received from the monitoring stations on Khitomer III and the two ships, the Korinar and the M'Char, which were closest to the Ch'Tang at the time, confirm that the Ch'Tang was passively orbiting when the explosion happened in Engineering. It therefore cannot be an accident."
Worf looked at the smallish woman. He had known her long ago, when she was still a child, and was pleased to see the daughter of his friend Miles. But he couldn't show it.
"Who did it then?"
"The Chancellor knows very well who sabotaged and destroyed one of our proudest battleships!" someone screamed in the Hall. The brouhaha began. Molly chose to shut up, as no one would have heard anything anyway.
"SHUT UP!" Worf thundered.
The silence was instantly back. Worf turned to Molly and asked again:
"Who did it, Lieutenant?"
***
Kira and Ro had met the Bajoran government, and hated what they had heard.
"General, we Bajorans are peace lovers. The Dominion, not only is not at war with us, but actually protects us from the Borg."
"The Dominion is at war with the Federation!" Kira had screamed. "Bajor is part of the Federation! Or have you forgotten that?"
"Years ago, the Emissary told us that Bajor had to stand alone or suffer the consequences, General. Or have you forgotten that?"
"The Emissary was part of Starfleet! Have you forgotten that?"
First Minister Jaro hadn't changed much since the days of the Circle. How he had, by hook and by crook, found his way back in Bajoran politics, up to the summit, remained a mystery to all, and Kira hadn't forgotten how the man had had her tortured for information.
Now it seemed he was getting what he had always wanted: a clean break from the Federation. But at what price?
"He can't seriously think of making any kind of deal with the Dominion!"
"I don't know what can be in that man's head, Laren. I'll have to try to explain all that to Admiral Fox …"
"He won't like it."
"Why the hell would he?"
Charles Fox was in charge of the Bajoran Sector until a few weeks ago, when the Borg had charged through Federation space and forced the evacuation of all living things. He had been asked to keep his ships and troops in there, and they were now occupying Deep Space Nine, at the great displeasure of Commander Rashid, who had been affected to the station in 2384 and thought of it as a good place for retirement.
"Admiral Fox, Commander Rashid."
"General Kira, Colonel Ro. Maybe you could explain to me the meaning of this!" Fox had said, almost throwing the PADD at Kira, who caught him in extremis.
Kira started reading, as a mix of puzzlement and anger started blushing her face.
"THEY CAN'T DO THAT!"
***
Erika Benteen had taken command of the USS Yorktown, one of the new Sovereign-II ships out of the Mars shipyards, three years earlier. She had fought the Dominion several times, and every time brought her ship back to the dry dock. She was known as a fearless officer, yet a very much balanced and disciplined one. She had selected her senior crew the same way. Commander Hertzler, for instance, under a gruff exterior, hid a very high level of competence and compassion, which made him the ideal First Officer for her.
In front of her was a man she had not recruited, a man she would never have recruited in normal circumstances. But the last campaign had been costly in lives, and more than a hundred new crewmembers had just been transferred to the Yorktown.
That one really gave her the creeps, and it was not only because of his gruffer-than-Hertzler appearance, or his towering height, or his apparent total lack of sophistication. No, she just felt that that man had no place in an Engineering Room, much less in hers. But today was not the time for evaluation.
"Starfleet Medical had trouble finding you, Mister Watson."
"Medical, Sir?"
"You have a niece, Lieutenant Junior Grade Sabrina Helena Watson, serving on the Chameleon as Assistant Chief of Security, right?"
"I have a niece bearing that name, yes."
He had answered on the same tone he would have given his own name. Benteen and Hertzler looked at each other, surprised. Hertzler continued:
"She came back to Khitomer about three weeks ago, on the sixth exactly, very badly burned. She has been hospitalized and cared for since that time. Her doctors still don't know if she will survive, and they feel that your presence is required at her side, as quickly as possible."
"Why?"
Benteen and Hertzler once again looked at each other.
"Because, Mister Watson", Benteen continued, "your niece could die at any moment, and your presence might make her last days more bearable. The Yorktown will therefore leave for Qo'noS …"
"Excuse me, Captain, with all due respect, I'm not interested in seeing her."
"Trouble in the family, Lieutenant?"
"We are not a family anymore, Sir."
"She's your niece."
"Only by accident, Sir."
"And you're not interested in seeing her, making what might be her last days easier?" Benteen tried one last time.
"No, Sir."
"Very well, Mister Watson. Dismissed."
***
Three days earlier, the two huge men had met in the tavern and talked for a few minutes.
The older one had come in with a package and left.
The younger one was now leaving the place. He walked for some time in the darkest, narrowest streets of Qo'noS' First City, before he reached the door of the small bait shop.
He crossed the store quickly, entered the back store after typing a password on a keyboard, and from there was beamed to the Great Hall where several Klingons were waiting. He took off his hood, revealing his own Klingon face.
"So, do you have it?"
"Yes, General. Exactly what you ordered."
"Perfect. This time, it's not just a ship we'll destroy, it's a whole dry dock and all the ships in it. Our friends will be satisfied, and we'll kill two birds with one stone."
Your tapestry continues to expand, and I like series with lots of protagonists. The Dominion in cahoots 
with the Borg?! Nice seeing a mention of Retinax, jeez, they still haven't found the cure for that in like two centuries? Damn...
Ro and Worf as well, it's like a cool reunion special. So Worf finally bit the bullet and took over, huh. Always new he'd end up more then just a Govenor.
with the Borg?! Nice seeing a mention of Retinax, jeez, they still haven't found the cure for that in like two centuries? Damn...Ro and Worf as well, it's like a cool reunion special. So Worf finally bit the bullet and took over, huh. Always new he'd end up more then just a Govenor.
While the daughter was reporting to the Klingon High Council, the father was talking with Wilkins, Forsythe, Karov and Tomalak.
"Commodore, this does not make any sense", Tomalak was saying to O'Brien, insisting on calling him "Commodore" even if the Starfleet tradition was to call "Admiral" every flag officer. "If the Dominion and the Borg have an alliance, why would the Dominion have protected the Bajoran System?"
O'Brien sighed before he answered.
"I'm not saying they have an alliance, Proconsul. I'm saying that the Chameleon has been fired upon by Dominion weapons and Borg-like weapons, similar to the weapons used in the Alpha Quadrant against the Palomar fleet, and yet different enough to raise questions. Those are the facts."
"Miles", Wilkins intervened, "have we met those weapons before?"
"I don't think so."
"So, could it be a Dominion prototype for a new weapon which would have random characteristics making it appear Borg in origin?"
"I don't think so."
"What exactly do you think, Chief?" Forsythe, who had known Miles at the Academy, and had sponsored his application for a commission in 2379, asked him.
O'Brien looked at his former mentor, who had fought to obtain for him a Commander commission without having to go through Starfleet Academy, considering he was already teaching there and the stellar results he had obtained in his tests.
"The reports from the Chameleon are still quite garbled, Admiral. They seem to indicate that the only attackers were Dominion ships, but we are far from having extracted the full data. My daughter has been called to conduct the Ch'Tang investigation, and she is also in charge of the Chameleon. Add to that that the cleaning crews had so badly done their job that she found Lieutenant Watson's gangrened leg in a freezer, and you understand why this is not moving forward at all. So I really have no definite answer for you right now."
Even Karov had cringed at the mention of the leg.
"We need to know what happened to the Ch'Tang if we want to stop it, Admiral!"
"I agree, General! That's why I'm trying to find more engineers to help her! But it seems Starfleet is experiencing a shortage of good engineers these days."
"Couldn't you use Klingon or Romulan engineers?"
"To design new ships, yes. To analyze a Federation prototype, I'd rather have Starfleet engineers."
"We let you analyze the Ch'Tang remains!" Karov protested.
"You asked us, General. It's not the same thing. My daughter got results because Starfleet engineers are trained to think out of the box. Yours are not known for their versatility."
"Romulan engineers are quite familiar with many aspects of Starfleet technology", Tomalak just said in a matter-of-fact fashion.
"I'm way ahead of you on this one, Proconsul."
***
In the Hall of the High Council, Molly was still trying, among all kinds of interjections, to explain what had happened to the Ch'Tang.
"What's that bilithium you're talking about?"
"Not bilithium, Chancellor, bilitrium. It's a rare, crystalline element that can be an incredibly powerful source of energy when combined with an antimatter converter. In 2369, the Bajoran Kohn-Ma terrorist Tahna Los bought from Lursa and B'Etor a canister of bilitrium. Combined with an antimatter converter he had stolen from the Cardassians, Tahna constructed a bilitrium explosive device."
"So it's a Klingon explosive? I never heard of it!"
"No, Chancellor. We believe it to be of Ferengi origin."
"The Ferengis!" someone in the hall screamed. "Why don't we get rid of those toads once and for all?"
Once again the brouhaha started. Worf stood up.
"SILENCE!"
Once again they all shut up. Worf turned to Molly again.
"What else, Lieutenant?"
"The bilitrium was combined with tekasite, an explosive compound generally used to enhance the detonation of a trilithium device. Tekasite was part of a bomb used by the Dominion in an attempt to destroy the Bajoran sun in 2373."
"The Dominion?"
"Yes, Chancellor. Tekasite is a Dominion explosive. We never found any except in the Gamma Quadrant, and we were never able to use it."
"The Ferengis and the Dominion together?"
"I wouldn't be so straightforward, Chancellor. The activator device was a Romulan molecular decay detonator. The Romulans would have no interest in destroying a Klingon ship."
"Nobody knows what the Romulan interest is!" someone screamed.
"That's right! Who knows if they don't have a deal with the Dominion to bring us to our knees!"
"WILL YOU SHUT UP!"
Only this time it was not Worf. It was B'Elanna.
"That female has no right to …"
"Shut up, Kaman, or I'll show you my right and my left! Anyone can get a molecular decay detonator! And here's the proof!"
B'Elanna put her hand in her pocket, showed one she had found on Salan a few days earlier, and threw it in the middle of the room.
"It proves nothing!"
The agitation started again. Even Worf couldn't stop them now. B'Elanna took Molly by the shoulders and promptly brought her out.
***
At 57, one would have thought that Kira Nerys would have mellowed a bit. That would have been a big mistake. She had learned to be a little more of a diplomat, but the ex-resistant was still as explosive as ever. She had read the orders sent to Rashid, she had thrown down the PADD, breaking it in the process, and she had stormed out of the Commander's office and made a "personal" call to First Minister Jaro.
"The First Minister is busy, General."
"Busy, huh? Busy tending Bajor to the Jem'Hadars, you mean?"
"I see you read the orders sent to Deep Space Nine."
"YES I DID! What's that stupid idea of telling Starfleet personnel to move out of the station, out of the Bajoran system, in the next two weeks? Only Starfleet can save us from the Dominion!"
"General, have you ever thought that maybe we do not want to be saved from the Dominion?"
"WHAT?"
She couldn't believe her ears. Colonel Tora, Nayeel's mother, telling her that the Dominion was welcome on Bajor?"
"Please, General. Bajor has no intention of becoming part of the Dominion, or even of breaking its ties with the Federation. Simply, since the Prophets have chosen to use the Dominion to protect us from the Borg, why would we not avail ourselves of that option?"
"Are you even listening to the crap you're pouring on me? Do you really believe that the Dominion will allow Bajor to enjoy every advantage of being a Dominion member without actually paying the piper at some point?"
"It is the will of the Prophets, Kira. We must follow the Prophets."
"What, are you the Kai now? I wonder what she would think of that! Don't even try to answer that one, I'll go and ask her myself! Kira out!"
She turned around. There was Fox.
"Is it customary for you to listen to private conversations?"
"Private, General? There's no one on the station who couldn't hear you. While you were exchanging pleasantries with Colonel Tora, I called Starfleet Command. I have new orders for this station."
"Commodore, this does not make any sense", Tomalak was saying to O'Brien, insisting on calling him "Commodore" even if the Starfleet tradition was to call "Admiral" every flag officer. "If the Dominion and the Borg have an alliance, why would the Dominion have protected the Bajoran System?"
O'Brien sighed before he answered.
"I'm not saying they have an alliance, Proconsul. I'm saying that the Chameleon has been fired upon by Dominion weapons and Borg-like weapons, similar to the weapons used in the Alpha Quadrant against the Palomar fleet, and yet different enough to raise questions. Those are the facts."
"Miles", Wilkins intervened, "have we met those weapons before?"
"I don't think so."
"So, could it be a Dominion prototype for a new weapon which would have random characteristics making it appear Borg in origin?"
"I don't think so."
"What exactly do you think, Chief?" Forsythe, who had known Miles at the Academy, and had sponsored his application for a commission in 2379, asked him.
O'Brien looked at his former mentor, who had fought to obtain for him a Commander commission without having to go through Starfleet Academy, considering he was already teaching there and the stellar results he had obtained in his tests.
"The reports from the Chameleon are still quite garbled, Admiral. They seem to indicate that the only attackers were Dominion ships, but we are far from having extracted the full data. My daughter has been called to conduct the Ch'Tang investigation, and she is also in charge of the Chameleon. Add to that that the cleaning crews had so badly done their job that she found Lieutenant Watson's gangrened leg in a freezer, and you understand why this is not moving forward at all. So I really have no definite answer for you right now."
Even Karov had cringed at the mention of the leg.
"We need to know what happened to the Ch'Tang if we want to stop it, Admiral!"
"I agree, General! That's why I'm trying to find more engineers to help her! But it seems Starfleet is experiencing a shortage of good engineers these days."
"Couldn't you use Klingon or Romulan engineers?"
"To design new ships, yes. To analyze a Federation prototype, I'd rather have Starfleet engineers."
"We let you analyze the Ch'Tang remains!" Karov protested.
"You asked us, General. It's not the same thing. My daughter got results because Starfleet engineers are trained to think out of the box. Yours are not known for their versatility."
"Romulan engineers are quite familiar with many aspects of Starfleet technology", Tomalak just said in a matter-of-fact fashion.
"I'm way ahead of you on this one, Proconsul."
***
In the Hall of the High Council, Molly was still trying, among all kinds of interjections, to explain what had happened to the Ch'Tang.
"What's that bilithium you're talking about?"
"Not bilithium, Chancellor, bilitrium. It's a rare, crystalline element that can be an incredibly powerful source of energy when combined with an antimatter converter. In 2369, the Bajoran Kohn-Ma terrorist Tahna Los bought from Lursa and B'Etor a canister of bilitrium. Combined with an antimatter converter he had stolen from the Cardassians, Tahna constructed a bilitrium explosive device."
"So it's a Klingon explosive? I never heard of it!"
"No, Chancellor. We believe it to be of Ferengi origin."
"The Ferengis!" someone in the hall screamed. "Why don't we get rid of those toads once and for all?"
Once again the brouhaha started. Worf stood up.
"SILENCE!"
Once again they all shut up. Worf turned to Molly again.
"What else, Lieutenant?"
"The bilitrium was combined with tekasite, an explosive compound generally used to enhance the detonation of a trilithium device. Tekasite was part of a bomb used by the Dominion in an attempt to destroy the Bajoran sun in 2373."
"The Dominion?"
"Yes, Chancellor. Tekasite is a Dominion explosive. We never found any except in the Gamma Quadrant, and we were never able to use it."
"The Ferengis and the Dominion together?"
"I wouldn't be so straightforward, Chancellor. The activator device was a Romulan molecular decay detonator. The Romulans would have no interest in destroying a Klingon ship."
"Nobody knows what the Romulan interest is!" someone screamed.
"That's right! Who knows if they don't have a deal with the Dominion to bring us to our knees!"
"WILL YOU SHUT UP!"
Only this time it was not Worf. It was B'Elanna.
"That female has no right to …"
"Shut up, Kaman, or I'll show you my right and my left! Anyone can get a molecular decay detonator! And here's the proof!"
B'Elanna put her hand in her pocket, showed one she had found on Salan a few days earlier, and threw it in the middle of the room.
"It proves nothing!"
The agitation started again. Even Worf couldn't stop them now. B'Elanna took Molly by the shoulders and promptly brought her out.
***
At 57, one would have thought that Kira Nerys would have mellowed a bit. That would have been a big mistake. She had learned to be a little more of a diplomat, but the ex-resistant was still as explosive as ever. She had read the orders sent to Rashid, she had thrown down the PADD, breaking it in the process, and she had stormed out of the Commander's office and made a "personal" call to First Minister Jaro.
"The First Minister is busy, General."
"Busy, huh? Busy tending Bajor to the Jem'Hadars, you mean?"
"I see you read the orders sent to Deep Space Nine."
"YES I DID! What's that stupid idea of telling Starfleet personnel to move out of the station, out of the Bajoran system, in the next two weeks? Only Starfleet can save us from the Dominion!"
"General, have you ever thought that maybe we do not want to be saved from the Dominion?"
"WHAT?"
She couldn't believe her ears. Colonel Tora, Nayeel's mother, telling her that the Dominion was welcome on Bajor?"
"Please, General. Bajor has no intention of becoming part of the Dominion, or even of breaking its ties with the Federation. Simply, since the Prophets have chosen to use the Dominion to protect us from the Borg, why would we not avail ourselves of that option?"
"Are you even listening to the crap you're pouring on me? Do you really believe that the Dominion will allow Bajor to enjoy every advantage of being a Dominion member without actually paying the piper at some point?"
"It is the will of the Prophets, Kira. We must follow the Prophets."
"What, are you the Kai now? I wonder what she would think of that! Don't even try to answer that one, I'll go and ask her myself! Kira out!"
She turned around. There was Fox.
"Is it customary for you to listen to private conversations?"
"Private, General? There's no one on the station who couldn't hear you. While you were exchanging pleasantries with Colonel Tora, I called Starfleet Command. I have new orders for this station."
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