“Empires always have the hubris to think they are indestructible, when in fact they are always unsustainable.”

Marianne Williamson (1992)

 

“Warp – factor 9.4, Captain.” Ensign Bysea Wanat reported, with a hint of satisfaction in her voice. 

Before now, the Bolian Helm – Officer had never had the opportunity to push the venerable New Orleans – class Frigate all the way up to its emergency speed threshold. With the recent repairs undertaken at Terminus – Station’s Spacedock – whether the USS Savannah actually held together, running at these speeds, was a worrisome prospect – but under normal conditions – the ship should be able to sustain such a sprint for anywhere up to 12 hours.

Although the events of the last few weeks, especially the last few hours, had been anything but ‘normal’. Bysea reflected as the viewscreen showed the hypnotic miasma of Realspace streaming past at Warp.

Bysea Wanat was a woman who was as habitually – sunny, in disposition, as that of a Main – sequence star. 

That ardent luminosity had dimmed somewhat recently with her worry about her best friend. Ithariar Sh’eshikrar was not an easy woman for most people to like. She was irritable. She was combative. She was sharp – tongued and Bysea adored her with all of her heart. And now (along with Sabreen el-Hannan), her best – friend was Missing-in-Action.

Bysea couldn’t bring herself to add the moniker “Presumed – dead.” Death obviously didn’t know the first thing about Ithariar – otherwise it would not be so keen to seek her company. Somewhere, somehow – her friend was alive out there and Bysea was unshakable in the ardent belief that she would see her again.

Then again, a few short hours ago, she had been pretty much convinced that death had finally come for her.

Staring down the overwhelming massed might of the Kazon attack fleet that had intruded into the Alpha – Quadrant from Underspace, as it bore exorably down upon the Watchtower – class Starbase – the USS Savannah had been thrown into the hastily – assembled picket of Starfleet vessels that were spaceworthy enough to contribute to the desperate last – ditch defence of Terminus.

Given the huge disparity between force – concentration of aggressor and defender – it was clear to all on the Bridge, that this was nothing short of a futile gesture. Even though the Federation – ships were technologically superior and could account for more of their number in terms of damage to the enemy; the Kazon had the inevitable advantage in number. So many times, in history, this had proven the decisive factor in victory.

Bysea had been surprised how oddly calm and detached she had found herself at the moment of her prospective death. It was gratifying to see that her shipmates aboard the bridge of the USS Savannah seemed to share that same stoicism as they rode out to face their fate.

Captain Hyland had been magnificent – projecting such a confident and reassuring presence (even though Bysea doubted anyone could be so calm inside at a moment like that) and Bysea knew that she would follow the Captain anywhere.

Then, just as Bysea was resigned to meeting those-that-had-gone-before (and was kind of quite looking forward to seeing her Great-Uncle Kenja again), the impossible had happened. The Kazon – fleet, contrary to all expectation and indication, had not attached the Starfleet vessels nor Terminus – Station at all!! They had just flowed by, in their ragged formations, as if the Federation assets were simply not there!

It was enough to make a girl’s head – spin.

When Bysea had recollected herself enough to realize that she wouldn’t be seeing Great-Uncle Kenja anytime soon, it became apparent that what was salvation for some, was clearly damnation for others as the Kazon – fleet pressed on towards Cardassian space.

Such a irresistible force would surely press the ability of the Cardassian Union and, although Bysea had a pretty poor opinion about the Cardassian’s – after what they had all been through recently, she had to remind herself that she was a Starfleet Officer, and that peace was ultimately their mission. Although the True Way were diabolical terrorists, the Obsidian Order no better than secret police and the High Command unswervingly militaristic expansionists – the Federation had a fragile peace with the United Federation of Planets and that must be protected at all costs.

Which is why the USS Savannah, with her long-range sensors (and the fact that she was the least – damaged member of the rag-tag flotilla available at Terminus – Station) had be dispatched upon this desperate mission to pursue the Kazon – Fleet as it tore onwards into Cardassian – Territory and relay back vital intelligence of its movements, so that the Federation might assist the Detapa Council in framing its defence.

“Very good helm.” Lieutenant Commander Hyland confirmed and turned to her Executive Officer.

“Number One.” Sam spoke to Lieutenant T’Vran openly. After what her crew had just gone through, Sam thought they deserved to hear where the stake currently lay. “Something’s bothering me.”

T’Vran turned to view her Commanding Officer and replied.

“I’m sure that a number of things are bothering you, at this moment in time Captain, but maybe I can assist with alleviating just one at this time?”

Samantha smiled, the Vulcan continued to remain a steadying presence and asset to her command and someday soon she would have to tell T’Vran just how much she valued her.

“I see the hand of Gul Ghallir in this.” She indicates the view of Realspace through the viewscreen and by implication the currently unseen Kazon – Fleet. “Otherwise, I can see no logical reason why the Kazon did not simply destroy us when they had the chance. This speaks to an ulterior motive.”

T’Vran nodded as she considered Sam’s concerns and replied tactfully.

“It is entirely possible that Gul Ghallir dispatched an envoy when the “Verran” itself was stranded within the Labyrinth, Captain. It is equally plausible that that envoy made contact with the Kazon and somehow convinced them to engage in this incursion.”

Sam considered this hypothesis and was afraid of how neatly it seemed to align with the current state of affairs.

“What could a stranded True Way commander have to convince a fractious grouping, such as the Kazon Collective with?” Samantha pondered, re-arranging the pieces and trying to make the puzzle fit in her mind.

“Whilst it is only conjecture to say so Captain.” T’Vran nodded levelly, “It would be reasonable to posit a transfer of technology is a motivator of sufficient magnitude to illicit the assistance of the Kazon.” 

The XO went on to explain. “Starfleet has been very assiduous in its efforts to ensure that the Kazon Collective, as a whole, do not get their hands of either Transporter or Replicator technologies. If even one faction was able to do so – their hegemony over the other factions and then their neighbours in the Delta Quadrant would be absolute.”

Sam breathed in hard – that made perfect sense.

“So Gul Ghallir entices the Kazon Nistrim to invade the Alpha Quadrant and obviously the Cardassian Union in particular?” Sam couldn’t fathom the True Way commander’s reasoning – it seemed so counter – intuitive to her.

 “But to what end? Why have the Kazon attack his own people? And, as impressive as the Kazon – Fleet is, the massed forces of the Obsidian Order and the High Command is greater and (like us) possess a significant – enough technological advantage to ultimately prevail over the Kazon. What is Yomat Ghallir’s game, I wonder?”

Lieutenant T’Vran was silent for so long, that Sam half worried that the Vulcan had not been listening to her, so she was relieved when the Vulcan finally spoke.

“I see only one logical explanation.” T’Vran nodded.

“Would you care to share that explanation?” Samantha asked, with slight exasperation.

“Apologies Captain.” T’Vran nodded and continued, “The implications are disturbing, if true. I shall expound.”

“Please do.”

“With the scenario that we are positing – it is logical that the attacking Kazon forces will eventually be defeated by the Cardassian’s, but not before inflicting attrition of Cardassian Military forces and materiel.”

“Well, that is inevitable, but how does this play to the True Way’s advantage?” Sam worried.

“It is within the ratio of that attrition that the answer lies Captain.” T’Vran explained. “The Detapa Council holds a tenuous grip on the Union and is forever in opposition with the High Command – this keeping their territorial – expansionist aspirations in check – whilst peace with the Federation remains. The Council rely upon the Obsidian Order to maintain the status – quo.”

The Vulcan keyed the control at the side of her chair and ran some quick calculations.

“The Obsidian Order’s own fleet assets are proportionally smaller to that of the High Command. If they are to sustain an equal rate of loss due to engagement with the Kazon forces, their rate of attrition will be comparably higher than that of the more multitudinous High Command forces.”

“Which in turn weakens the ability of the Detapa Council to maintain control over the High Command!” Samantha Hyland finished the train of logic and suddenly it all slotted into place for her.

“That sonnofabitch Yomat Ghallir wanted to be caught. He engineered this entire invasion, knowing that it would cede the balance of power back to the High Command – where the True Way as a base of supporters. Knowing that it would reset the clock back to the ‘good – old – days’ before the Dominion War and weaken the influence of the Council.

“Indeed. From what we know about the Gul, it would certainly align.” The Executive Officer agreed. “Gul Ghallir himself would surely be released in such a scenario and the Cardassian Union would enjoy a resurgence of aggressive territorial expansion.”

“And with the Kazon destroyed, there would be nothing to stop that expansion extended into the Delta Quadrant and beyond.” Sam concluded grimly.

“Of that I am not so sure Captain.” The Vulcan Strategist countered.

“What’s to stop them?” Sam demanded.

“Compared to the other ‘In-Play’ factions in the Alpha and Beta Quadrants, the Cardassian Union is comparatively weaker and smaller. These are not attributes that Cardassian’s typically seek to project a position of power from. More typically, they seek to redress that balance through subterfuge, political obscurification and embargo. “

“Unlike the Klingons, for example, the Union does not seem to have embraced the potential of the Labyrinth to stake out aggressive military expansion of their territories – which suggests that they do not enjoy the material advantage to sustain such expansion. It is reasonable, therefore, to posit that the Detapa Council views Underspace more as a threat to their Sovereignty, rather than an opportunity to expand it.”

Lieutenant Commander Sam Hyland sat heavily back in her Command – chair. The events of the last few weeks had placed an intolerable stress on herself, her crew and the USS Savannah. She felt tired beyond explanation.

“But this is just a theory, albeit the most logical one, T’Vran.” Sam reflected, “Without proof of Gul Ghallir’s hand in all of this – such theorizing is effectively next to useless.”

It was T’Vran’s turn to concede defeat.

“That is also true Captain.” The Vulcan agreed.

Sam Hyland retreated into her own reverie as the USS Savannah continued its desperate pursuit of the Kazon attack – fleet and secretly willed her ship to go faster.

Location: Cardassian Union Border / Former DMZ / Kazon Nistrim Raider “Vor’Char”

Stardate: 2401.7.17 / 15:01hrs (Shipboard Time)

The Kazon guard entered the cell, his carbine at the ready and his companion covered his entry from outside in the corridor. Both were alert to the possibility of subterfuge, and both were sufficiently afraid of Commander Jal’ Khatam’s wrath if they were caught unawares by some pathetic ruse to overcome them – so their terracotta ridged faces were set with suspicion as they proceeded to investigate the cause of the disturbance.

The Blue – one was leant against the far wall, her arms crossed.

The Brown – one was still on the floor, where she had fallen when the guard had struck her for her insolence. Her long, dark hair fanned out around her – as she lay face down.

“I think you hit her too hard.” The Blue – one shrugged.

Caabor wrinkled his nose at the smell…..the brown one had obviously soiled herself whilst unconscious. Disgusting.

“What is going on?” his companion, Tizik, called from the corridor – Caabor blocking effectively blocking his line of sight into the cramped cell.

“One of theme’s hurt.” Caabor nudged Sabreen with his heavy boot.

“Who cares, one less mouth to feed.” Tizik called back callously.

The Blue – one opened her insolent mouth again.

“She’s not going to much use to Jal’ Khatam as a hostage if she’s dead – no one’s going to pay a ransom for a corpse.” The Blue – one observed dispassionately. She still had not moved an inch from her languid position.

Caabor cursed inwardly. The Blue – one was right, of course. If the Brown one died, the Commander would take his revenge out on his and Tizik’s own hides. Caabor let the muzzle of his carbine dip fractionally.

That was all the opening the blue woman needed.

As they had practiced, Sabreen suddenly rolled sideways into Caabor’s feet, tangling herself in the Kazon’s heavy boots and causing him to stumble forwards.

Ithariar exploded forwards, Sabreen’s hijab coming unwound from where she had tied the garment around her waist. Knotting the hijab between her blue fists, she fluidly locked the length of cloth around Caabor’s forearm and ducked and twisted – wrenching the Kazon forward, slamming the guard headfirst into the bulkhead.

Continuing the momentum of the movement, she ignored the Disruptor – carbine as it clattered to the deck and grabbed the Guard’s dagger from his belt – slamming into Tizik as he brought his own weapon up to bear and viciously slamming the blade sideways into the Kazon’s neck – right up to the hilt. 

Tizik dropped his weapon from nerveless fingers and Ithariar whirled just in time to see Caabor starting to rise to his feet, shaking his dazed head.

And Sabreen el-Hannan slammed the butt of his carbine down hard on top of his head – knocking him out cold.

Ithariar nodded as she began to drag the corpse into the cell, slinging his carbine around her shoulder.

“For a pacifist, you seem to be picking this up rather well.” She commented flatly as she heaped Tizik next to Caabor and nodded. “Take his weapon.”

Sabreen, flushed with the elation and endorphin – rush that comes with the sudden realization that she was not dead, smiled nervously.

“I never said that I didn’t have anger issues of my own.” The Muslim woman beathed heavily & shrugged as she began to wind the headscarf back around her hair. “What now?”

“We need to locate their life support controls”.

The layout of the Kazon ship was surprisingly simple and it did not take long for the Andorian and her companion long to locate the correct compartment. As the ship was at actions stations, they were fortunate not to encounter any more of the crew.

“How is this going to help us take over the ship?” Sabreen wondered as Ithariar handed her a bulky EVA suit, “We’re not going outside, are we?” A tremor of fear tinged the Councilor’s voice. 

Intrepid voyages into the unknown and desperate prison breaks were one thing, but Sabreen had a visceral fear of going EVA. She had barely been able to complete the course requirement at the Academy and had required some intensive group – therapy to get over the experience afterwards.

Ithariar Sh’eshikrar smiled that cold, thin smile of hers and nodded “No, we’re going to let the outside in, in a manner of speaking – here put this on.”

Sabreen’s eyes widened as she did what she was told. The suit smelled awful and was awkward and cumbersome.

“You can’t mean to murder these people by depressurization!’ Sabreen was horrified.

The Andorian shook her snow – white hair in annoyance as she helped Sabreen with the next seals on the suit.

“As enticing as that prospect is, I need the crew alive – just not able to function.” She explained – but from what she could remember about Kazon physiology from the Academy, Kazon are a temperate – dwelling species. She lowered the helmet over Sabreen’s head and keyed the comm function.

“I don’t understand, how is that relevant?” The Councilor managed – the smell seemed to get worse when the helmet seals activated – like sour fish and sweat.

Ithariar smiled thinly and adjusted the gain – controls on her liberated disruptor – carbine to their lowest setting and started to melt holes in all of the other faceplates of the EVA suits she could find – effectively ruining them for proper use.

“I’m going to thin the oxygen content down and reduce environmental controls to sub – zero temperatures. Then all we have to do is barricade ourselves in this section and wait for nature to run its course, the ship will be ours in no time.

Sabreen frowned within her helmet. The plan was so ludicrously simple, that it might just work.

“But what about you?’ Sabreen asked with concern in her voice as ice – particles began to form on her faceplate.

A chilling smile formed across the icy – blue features of Ithariar Sh’eshikrar’s fine – boned face and she replied.

“Councilor, I was quite literally born for this shit.”

Location: SS Devore / Terminus Station / Situation Room / Deck 12

Stardate: 2401.7.17 / 19:43hrs (Station Time)

“Commander, we have a ship dropping out of Warp at the outer marker!” The Ops operator reported.

Commander Cassius Washington looked up with worn red eyes from his console. The last few hours had metastasized from the abject terror of near annihilation at the hands of the Rogue Kazon – Fleet, to the frantic organization of tracking their course into Cardassian territory trying to convince 4th Fleet Command and that of the Cardassian High Command that he had not, in fact, taken leave of their senses and to urge them to mobilize.

Cassius was at least glad that he had managed to deploy the USS Savannah in pursuit of the fleet. Matters might be out of his immediate control now, but at least the lone New Orleans – class frigate was able to track the progress of the Kazon, using her impressive long – range sensors, and relay back vital information about the enemy – fleet’s disposition and movements.

This crucial information was key in helping the Detapa Council attempt to coordinate a cohesive defence against the encroaching invading forces from the Delta Quadrant. From what Intel Commander Washington had been able to glean in the last few hours – the conflict within Cardassian space was escalating and spreading quickly – with the forces of both the Obsidian Order and the High Command hard pressed to answer the hostilities. Information was patchy at best, but it seemed to indicate a high loss of life on both sides.

And now this.

“Traditional protocol is to identify the vessel and verify it’s clearance, Ensign.” Cassius remarked tartly.

“Yessir, Sorry Sir.” The Ensign stammered.

Cassius Washington was a hard taskmaster and the Ensign had had an equally trying day – but Cassius was dampened if he was going to let standards slip, just because of that.

“It’s a civilian vessel Commander.” The Ensign reported, more carefully this time. “Conveyor – class. Registry indicates it’s the “SS Devore” Sir. Commercial Freighter current on charter. She’s hailing us Sir.”

Cassius waved his hand tiredly.

“Well, go on Ensign, don’t leave us in suspense?” He commented dryly.

“Aye Commander – on screen.”

The viewscreen in the Station’s Situation – room resolved into the figure of a massively well – proportioned man, dressed in a Gold – Starfleet Uniform. This ought to be good.

“Terminus Station, this is Lieutenant Myron Hayes of the USS Savannah, in temporary command of the SS Devore, permission tuh’ approach?” The big man rumbled in a thick creole accent.

Commander Washington sat forward in his Command Chair and responded.

“If memory serves, didn’t you leave here in a Runabout, Lieutenant?” Cassius frowned.

“Yessuh’ Commander.” Lt Hayes nodded his bullet – like bald head and smiled a wide grin. “Had a little ‘Bah-tie’ with some ‘Koo-yon” Kazon along the way, maybeh ya’ll met them too?”

Cassius Washington allowed himself a thin smile at that.

“Yes, they did pop by a while back.” He returned to the case in hand. “But that doesn’t explain what you’re doing in command of a Civilian – vessel, Lieutenant? Care you explain yourself?”

Myron Hayes smiled even wider, and the camera panned out to reveal and equally barrel – chested, elderly Starfleet NCO guarding a scowling Ferengi in restraints.

“Sho’ do Commander.” The big New – Orleans native indicated to the pair.

“This here ‘Canaille’ is Captain N’vok. He a slippery sonnofabitch, but good enough to lend us his ship here. Say hello to the Commander, N’vok?” Myron smiled.

The Ferengi said nothing and the Lieutenant shrugged good naturedly and returned his attention to the screen.

“He don’t seem all talkative right now, but soon he gonna just be fallin’ all over hisself to tell ya’ll about how he and one Gul Yomat Ghallir was in cahoots to mount a false – flag operation to lay the blame on thu’ New Marquis for a number of attacks in thu’ former DMZ. “

“And when ya’ll see what he got stashed away in his Cargo hold, something’s tellin’ me that he gonna be fallin’ all – over himself beaucoup to tell ya’ll, who hired him to transport illegal replicator technology to the Kazon through the Labyrinth, in return for they little daytrip. Yessir – Thu’ lil’ ‘Maringouin’ gonna be buzzing fit to burst.” Myron nodded sagely.

Cassius Washington had spent time in Louisiana and had a fair impression what the Big Creole was talking about, at least. The rest of his command – crew were not so fortunate and found that the Universal Translator was of practically no use when it came to trying to decipher indigenous Creole – patois.

Commander Washinton laughed out loud, genuinely, for the first time in what seemed like a long time and responded.

“Well, you’d better come on in and tell us all about it, Lieutenant. It sounds like a fascinating tale and I, for one, can’t wait to learn more. Standby to receive an approach vector to Spacedock and I will have a security detail waiting to take your prisoner into custody and secure the SS Devore.”

“Understood Commander. ‘Laissez les bon – temps rouler’. Hayes Out.” Myron nodded and closed the channel.

This was truly turning into a day of wonders.

“Let the good – times roll indeed.” Cassius chuckled as he began to key in orders.

Location: Grid Alpha – 7 / Former DMZ / Runabout “Chatham.”

Stardate: 2401.7.17 / 21:17hrs (Shipboard Time)

“I think it’s safe to move now, the long-range haven’t detected any movement for a while.” Ensign Vikander breathed a sigh of relief, as she brought the Runabout’s dormant systems back online and the “Chatham” slowly came back to life.

“Gracias a Dios!” blew into her chapped hands and gave a prayer to their continued survival.

One of the first Starfleet vessels to encounter the encroachment of the Kazon – fleet into the Alpha Quadrant, Neva had had the good judgement to flee the insurgency as it began, rightly surmising that the tiny Runabout had no chance of contesting such a superior force.

It had been Isidora’s plan to secret themselves within the plume of a nearby comet. The Astrometrics Officer had correctly surmised that the outgassing of Dust particles – typically ejected from the surface of the comet by the gas jets created by warming frozen volatiles, was sufficient to hide them from their pursuers.

As Comet – tails always point away from the sun because of the radiation pressure of sunlight, The force from sunlight on the small dust particles pushed the Runabout away from the sun with greater than, the force of gravity acting in the direction toward the sun – meaning all that Neva had to do was power down all but the most important systems and let the “Chatham” coast away undetected.

But it had been a damned cold free – ride.

“That was a neat trick, Isidora, let’s get warmed up and set a course for friendly territory.” The USS Savannah’s Senior Ops Officer said gladly.

“De nada!” The slim Argentinian science – Officer grinned and confirmed “I’ll settle for anywhere warm right now!”

“I hear that!” Neva smiled and began to lay in a course for Terminus – Station when a warbling alarm sounded from Isidoria’s control – panel. “What is it?” She asked with concern.

Isidora Arriagada Arias frowned, her smooth Latin – features backlit from the information scrolling from her screen.

“No puedo creer lo que estoy viendo!” Isidora breathed in sharply, reverting to her native tongue once more, this time with sheer disbelief behind it – she shared the telemetry with Neva.

“The nearby Underspace Aperture.” She turned to her companion. “It’s collapsing!”

Neva frowned “Are you sure? That’s a hell of a lot of energy to shift? Is it part of a natural phenomenon?”

The Astrometrics specialist shook her head.

“No, it can’t be natural – the rate of Tetryon interflow is far beyond what you would expect to see in a natural degradation over time! There must be another variable at play here. It’s the only explanation!”

Ensign Neva Vikander frowned deeply.

“Stand by – I’m re-tasking the long-range sensors to focus on that volume.” The Danish – officer explained as she strived to identify the source of the sudden degradation in furious energies of the event – horizon framing the subspace rift between Realspace & Underspace.

“Wait one! Sensors have acquired a target near the periphery of the anomaly. Re-focusing.

The sensors zoomed in on what was obviously an artificial orbital platform. A powerful locus of energy interacting between itself and the collapsing gateway to the Labyrinth!

“Madre Dios!” Ensign Arias swore softly I the cockpit “Just look at the energy signature that platform is emitting! “

“It seems to be Cardassian in design.” Neva reported, trying to extrapolate her own stream of data from the tactical sensors. No life signs aboard – it seems to be wholly automated.”

“It would need to be!” Isidora breathed in awe, “With an exponential exchange of energies on a scale like that, you wouldn’t want to be within parsecs of that thing right now. The radiation emissions alone would fry you where you stood!”

“And your positive that this thing is collapsing the Underspace aperture?” Neva challenged urgently.

“No doubt about that.” The Scientist confirmed, not quite believing what she was witnessing. “I estimate total collapse of the singularity within the next fourteen minutes, and I seriously suggest that we are not around here when that happens!!!”

“Acknowledged.” Neva agreed and began to set a course for Terminus and let Starfleet know what they had just witnessed.

A terrifying thought occurred to her as she tried to raise the Watchtower – class Starbase to warn them.

What if this was happening elsewhere?!