"Blaze of Glory" by Rob Dalton (daltonator@hotmail.com) Alien voices laughed and jeered at him. He watched the pig-like guard picked up and eaten as if nothing more than a mere morsel. He ducked, rolled, scrabbled into the little hole in the immense wall. Grabbing a rather large bone, he crawled out, standing ready to defend himself against the monster before him as the audience above him continued their merriment. He was roughly picked up, hauled to the immense mouth; hands as strong as tritanium wrapped around his body. The monster's mouth opened wide... "Bridge to Captain Picard." _Interesting_, Picard thought to himself. _This monster sounds like Number One!_ He jammed the bone into the monster's mouth, felt the grip around his midsection loosening, and suddenly dropped. He woke up with a start, sweating profusely. The voice repeated itself. "Bridge to Captain Picard. Captain, is something wrong?" Picard wiped the sweat off his brow, answering the voice. "I'm fine, Number One. Just another nightmare. What is it?" Riker replied promptly. "There's a transmission incoming from the USS _Montgomery_, sir. It's marked priority one." "I'll take it in here," Picard said. "Picard out. Computer: Lights." The room was suddenly awash in illumination, forcing Picard to squint. "Dim the lights!" "Please state brightness factor," the computer said in that annoying voice. Picard swore at the vocal pickup. They still hadn't worked out the bugs on the _Enterprise_. "Command not recognized. Please restate." "Dim to a diffuse glow," he ordered. "And synchronize this brightness level with the current hour!" The lights dimmed. "Current light level associated with 0200 hours." Picard shuffled over to the comm desk. Sitting down, he pushed a button on the small console in front of him. "Captain Picard," came the prompt greeting. "This is Captain Gregoris, on the _Montgomery_. I hope I'm not disturbing you..." "No, no, of course not," reassured Picard. "Please, go on." "Um...we have a first contact situation here, Captain Picard..." Gregoris reached for something off screen, and his image was suddenly replaced by the image on their viewscreen. Picard drew a sharp breath. There, surrounded by the swirling maelstrom of some spatial anomaly, was a ship. A huge ship. A _monstrously_ huge ship. "Who are they?" Picard breathed. "Well," replied Gregoris, reappearing on the display, "After some translation difficulties, we have finally identified the ship as the Imperial Star Destroyer _Onslaught_, under command of one Admiral Luis Zeda. They claim to be part of something called the Galactic Empire." Picard furiously sorted all of this out in his mind. The Galactic Empire? Certainly not of _this_ galaxy. And he definitely did _not_ like the name of the ship. "Have you identified yourself to them yet?" he asked. "Well, we tried, sir," replied Gregoris, "but Captain Zeda refused to talk to quote: 'A simple scout ship.' He's demanding to be put in contact with someone of more importance. I believe that means you, Captain Picard." _Well, why not?_ Picard thought to himself. _I -am- Captain of the flagship of the Federation_. However, one thought kept nagging at him. The Galaxy-class _Montgomery_ was most definitely not a 'simple scout ship.' That made him very nervous, indeed. Who exactly were they dealing with? "The _Enterprise_ will be there shortly," said Picard. "Relay that to the commander of that ship." "Aye, Captain." Suddenly, a bright green flash came over the screen and the transmission was cut off. "Captain Picard to the bridge!" he yelled. "Set course for the last known location of the _Montgomery_, maximum warp!" Picard shut off the console and drew a deep breath. Rushing to his wardrobe, he quickly dressed himself as the _Enterprise_ went to warp. *** Admiral Zeda paced along the bridge of the Imperial Star Destroyer _Onslaught_, pondering this latest turn of events. The anomaly was sudden, occurring in a little known far-flung system that lay on the very edge of the Unknown Regions. It could only be what the Empire's scientists theorized: a doorway to another time, place, or both. They had dubbed it a "wormhole" but to the crewers of the _Onslaught_ it was like a reaction to a hallucinogenic compound. When they had reached the end of it, they had come into contact with the strange alien ship that was now berthed in the main hangar bay. To the surprise of everyone, they seemed to be human, not members of the Rebellion, and furthermore, dressed in what appeared to be bedclothes. They had put up quite a fight during boarding actions, firing at them with long bursts of yellow- orange energy tentatively identified as a 'phaser'. The result was the loss of nearly a whole squad of troopers, some burned horribly, some totally disintegrated. It was the Stormtroopers who were finally able to stun or blast the crew into submission, for their armor was more protective against the strange devices. What little good that did. The sick bay was on yellow alert, with three cargo bays converted to handle the overflow. Zeda sat in his office reading the head tech's preliminary report with interest. _Imperial Technician Brobor Mamuk, IN 2ndLt., ISD _Onslaught_ _Preliminary tech report on alien vessel follows:_ _Summary: Alien technology substandard to current Imperial Navy levels. Alien physiology strikingly similar to human standards._ _Language: Structure strikingly similar to Basic. Translation index of 98%._ _Computer Systems: Binary-based with low memory capacity. Strikingly lax security._ _Life Support: Similar to human standard atmosphere of oxygen/nitrogen. Artificial gravity, one standard atmosphere. Digestive system requirements unknown._ _Weaponry: NDF-inductive energy beams, effectiveness dictated by target. Two torpedo types, one roughly twice as effective as the other._ _Propulsion: Sublight travel on par with that of current Imperial standards. Low powered thrusters used for combat maneuvers and docking. Faster than light travel significantly slower than Hyperspace. Faster than light travel achieved by the distortion of the quantum realm known as subspace._ _Other Technology: As stated before, substandard to current Imperial Navy levels. Excessive use of hologram technology for simple recreational use, such as that found in a theme park. Evidence of limited tactical application. Droid technology limited, restricted to a unique construction known as Data currently stationed on the vessel known as _Enterprise_. _Transportation: Minimally armed and highly fragile shuttlecraft used primarily for ship to surface transport. Higher range vessels known as "runabouts" are mainly used for reconnaissance missions and have limited faster than light travel capability. Main method of transport is matter-energy conversion, which has very high energy consumption levels. The subject is partially disassembled at the subatomic level, sent along a carrier wave and reassembled at the intended destination._ _End report._ Zeda chewed the inside of his cheek. He could not believe a civilization as starkly primitive as this alien-riddled "Federation" could maintain even a tenuous grasp on the one hundred and fifty major worlds it apparently stretched across... He sighed heavily. It had been difficult getting even this much information out of the alien prisoners. There was so much blood...almost too much... _The Federation officer blubbered and cried as waves of intense pain lanced throughout his body. The interrogator droid did its duty quickly and efficiently, yet the prisoner would yield no information. He watched as the droid injected yet another needleful of truth serum into the violently resistant prisoner, yet to no effect. The droid decided to use a more physical method of extraction..._ _The officer's arm came off quickly as the droid used its laser cutter on it. Zeda watched as another officer picked it up and beat the prisoner's head and neck violently..._ _"I know nothing!" he screamed even as the droid slid a slender knife into his abdomen, piercing his diaphragm and making his breaths shallow..._ _They finally put him through the mind sifter and thus got results...names, dates, places...personal thoughts, orders, serial number...technical information, data on the Federation and it's composition..._ _Zeda then watched as the officer was torn from the device, shreds of his scalp following as he was hung on a rack by the skin of his backside and brutally tortured, screaming and begging for mercy, his entire front side slit from top to bottom and his organs removed. But the interrogators would have no mercy...and the screams became louder, louder...so loud that Zeda was forced to cover his ears...and the prisoner finally quieted as the droid ruthlessly tore out his larynx. Yet he was still alive, from the stimulants injected into his brain by the droid, to watch himself being gutted. There was blood, blood everywhere...so much blood...even more as his aorta was sliced and blood erupted, spattering more on the ceiling...and finally, the prisoner slumped, limp and dead. He was dumped down the garbage chute with no ceremony...and the 'interrogation' was finally over. The sanitation teams would be in there cleaning up the blood and gore caked on the walls and floor, even the ceiling, for many days..._ Zeda jumped, took a sudden breath as his mind snapped back to the present. He had no idea why the past few hours would come back to haunt him so...perhaps it was because he felt as if he were torturing his brethren rather than some alien scum, perhaps due to their striking similarity to humans... Or maybe he was just getting soft. Pushing the memories out of his mind, he pulled up the next report and started to read. *** They had been there for three hours and seen neither hide nor hair of the missing _Montgomery_. Picard paced the bridge, pondering this latest turn of events. "Are you sure we're in the right spot?" he asked, glancing at the viewscreen at the vast amount of nothingness outside. "Affirmative, sir," Data replied. "The coordinates match exactly. Shall I attempt to recalibrate the navigation sensors?" "No, never mind. Whatever happened to the _Montgomery_, the ship that did it is obviously long gone," said Picard. "Set course for Deep-" "Sir, sensors are detecting an anomaly off the port bow!" snapped the helm officer, cutting off Picard in mid-sentence. "Reading...elevated neutrino levels...sir, it's a wormhole, and it's opening!" "Shields up! Red alert!" ordered Commander Riker. "Ensign Williams, has anything come out yet?" "Not yet...wait, sir, three marks at 047 mark 26...they're...not registering on the ship database." "Sensor profile matches these ships with the one that attacked the _Montgomery_, Captain," put in Data. "All three ships are powering up their weapons." "Sir, they're hailing us," said Lieutenant Boyd at tactical. "Audio only." "Onscreen," ordered Picard, before he could correct himself. "On speaker, I mean," he added, flushing slightly. "Aye, sir." "This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard, of the Fede--" Picard began, before he was cut off again. These were some very rude aliens. "Attention alien vessel: this is Admiral Zeda of the Imperial Star Destroyer _Onslaught_. You will lower your shields and prepare to be boarded. Failure to do so will result in your destruction." "Direct, aren't they?" commented Riker. "Indeed," Picard murmured. "Admiral Zeda, this is Captain Picard of the _Enterprise_. What has happened to the _Montgomery_?" They meant what they said, all right. A bolt of green energy slammed into the _Enterprise_, severely jarring the ship and damaging their shields. "Shields down to 34 percent, Captain! Shall I return fire?" inquired Boyd, his finger poised over the fire key, his hand trembling slightly with anticipation. "Negative, Mr. Boyd. All that will do is further incite them. Drop shields," he ordered with a sigh. Boyd had a streak of violence in him almost as strong as Worf's. It was just like old times... Suddenly, a bright streak of red energy slammed into the _Enterprise_, scrambling all of its systems and causing multiple explosions from panels all around the ship. Vital components went down, others exploded, driving huge chunks of shrapnel through unlucky lieutenants and ensigns. In one particular case, a thin, sharp rod propelled itself through the chest of an especially unfortunate Ensign Malek, piercing his heart and exiting out the other side, the rod lodging itself into a wall directly above a knocked-over Commander LaForge, blood dripping over his blank, unconscious visage. "Report!" shouted a beleaguered Picard over the raucous din of screaming cadets and exploding circuitry. "They appeared to have fired a charged particle beam at us!" shouted back Data. "All systems down!" Even as he spoke, the explosions subsided, and the _Enterprise_ was dead in space, adrift before the three Star Destroyers. "Emergency containment fields have been successfully erected around the warp core," Lieutenant Boyd said. "A good thing those emergency backup generators were installed when they were, or else we'd've been toast." "Excellent, Mr. Boyd," said Picard. "Now...to get our systems back on- line. Mr. Data?" "Sir..." he said, a bit hesitantly, "It would take a while just to restore power to life support. The particle beam, in essence, 'fried' our power systems. They must be repaired and recalibrated before we can do anything." "And how long will that take?" asked Picard darkly. Data seemed to wince. "Approximately two weeks, sir." "Well," he said. "I guess we'd better settle in and await their hospitality." *** The three Star Destroyers made their way to the _Enterprise_, the _Onslaught_ locking on a tractor beam. Slowly, the _Enterprise_ was dragged towards the cavernous hangar bay of the Star Destroyer, the crew pondering how they would force their way aboard. First things were first, however, and they used information pilfered from the _Montgomery_ and its crew to hack into the computer systems of the ship. Accessing the environmental controls, they flooded the ship with nerve gas before attempting to board. It hadn't been all that difficult with the _Montgomery_. There was a conveniently protruding bridge dome, allowing them to tractor the _Montgomery_ into the hanger bay to that point. They then used a retractable docking tunnel to break directly into the bridge, take it over, and force the crew to surrender at the threat of Captain Gregoris's life. Once the ship was secured, however... Finally, a stormtrooper commander named Major Tierce came up with a solution to this particular problem: flip the other ship belly-up, force their way on to the lower decks, find a terminal by using stolen deck plans, and flood the ship with gas from there. Gravitational orientation was irrelevant; the stormtroopers were trained, among other things, to walk on their hands for just such an occurrence so that they would land on their feet the second they passed the change of orientation. Consequentially, Major Tierce was selected to head up the boarding team. He ordered a pair of troopers with laser cutters forward; working quickly, they opened up what appeared to be a service hatch on the lower decks. Tierce flipped over, standing on his hands, moving forward slowly and very awkwardly, the weight of his armor all going in the wrong direction. It was over quickly, however, and with a flip of his stomach, the gravity field reversed and he fell towards the floor of the other ship, landing easily on his feet while simultaneously raising his weapon. He motioned the others forward. One by one, a whole squad of stormtroopers flipped onto their hands and made their precarious way onto the alien vessel. After securing the perimeter, they plunged a group of durasteel rungs into the top of the bulkheads near the hatchway. Less adept technicians followed them, sliding along the floor, grabbing the rungs and swinging themselves into proper orientation as they crossed the gravitational discontinuity. As soon as all of the clumsier techs were aboard, the stormtroopers made their way to the nearest populated area, identified on his HUD as the bottom of the warp core shaft. Stopping just before the entryway, Tierce threw a canister of nerve gas straight into the room. With a brief flash of light and a quiet hiss, the entire chamber was flooded. Gasps and moans could be heard as people slowly toppled over and hit the deck with a resounding thud. Motioning his troops forward, he led the way into the chamber, stunning anybody not already unconscious from the gas. Motioning the techs forward, they went on towards the nearest terminal. There, the techs put on gas masks as they prepared to slice into the _Enterprise_'s mainframe. Using access codes sliced from the computer core of the _Montgomery_, they were able to access the ship's environmental controls and do their deed. Gas began escaping from the ventilation ducts with a soft hiss. Cupping his hand, the troopers tromped forward and took up vital positions around the warp core, dragging unconscious bodies with them to use as hostages and leaving the decaying corpses as they were. Major Tierce took a detail of troopers with him and headed up to what was identified as the bridge, which was a few levels up. Since the turbolifts were offline along with the rest of the ship, the small group had to resort to crawlspaces, no mean trick with stormtrooper armor. They finally reached the level designated as Deck 1 and slowly made their way towards the bridge doors, Tierce's second-in-command Lieutenant Wright leading the way as Tierce himself brought up the rear. Placing a shaped charge on the doorway, they backed up. With a tremendous roar, the bridge door blew inwards, killing a poor ensign who had fallen unconscious a few feet away. The troopers ran forward only to be greeted by a burst of weapons fire, identified as a phaser, which struck Lieutenant Wright directly in the neck junction, dropping him to the floor and burning a large hole in both body glove and neck flesh as the searing beam broke don his molecular bonds. A spurt of blood came forth from a pierced carotid artery, and Wright died, choking and sputtering blood. Screaming in rage, another stormtrooper charged forward into the bridge, only to be grabbed by his arm and flung into a wall with enough force to shatter his bones. He collapsed in a heap, twisted around even more than the best gymnast could ever hope to manage. "What the hell is in there?!" shouted Tierce as he fired his E- 11 again and again. More weapons fire came from the opening. "Coaker, pull out the ion rifle! It must be that blasted droid they have!" But poor Coaker never got a chance. He was struck full on in the chest by another burst from a phaser. Were there automated weapons? Information from the _Montgomery_ stated otherwise. Tierce strained to see as his helmet's viewplate jockeyed for a better view. The smoke cleared a bit, and he was finally able to see a human form standing in the doorway, several holes in his uniform showing. Throwing himself to the side, Tierce grabbed the ion rifle and snapped off a quick shot. It hit the form dead-on, his body shaking and sparking as his circuits were overloaded with energy. Data fell over, stiff and essentially 'off'. "Tierce to _Onslaught_," he said, clicking on his chin comlink. "Alien ship secure. Send over the troops and clear out the nerve gas." "Excellent work," replied Admiral Zeda. "Make sure nobody wakes up. Additional troops will arrive shortly. Zeda out." He switched over to the private stormtrooper frequency. "Good work, men," he said. "Reinforcements will be arriving soon. Until then, keep watch on the prisoners. If they wake up, stun 'em. Now, we've had a few losses, but remember it's for the greater glory of the Empire!" A chorus of cheers came back from his men, and Tierce began to put binders on the bridge crew. He glanced at Data. What to do with him? "Tierce to _Onslaught_," he called again. "I have disabled the Federation android, but it may awaken at any moment. I suggest we space it." However, it wasn't Admiral Zeda who replied this time. "This is Grand Admiral Kenneth von Lowe," came the reply. "I have a better idea." *** Enter the _Glory_. First of it's kind. The United Federation of Planets _Glory_-class battle cruiser. NCC- 80311. USS _Glory_, under the command of one Captain Chuck Sonnenburg. Armed, literally, to the nacelles. Twenty photon/quantum torpedo launchers arrayed over her hull, including the saucer, neck, and engines, all both fore and aft; thirty separate phaser arrays arranged similarly. Top-of-the-line _everything_. Even the carpeting was new. Top speed of Warp 9.998. Top sustainable cruising speed of Warp 9.8. Sublight acceleration rivaling those of _Defiant_-class starships. No holodecks, no children. No nonsense. Only the best in medical facilities. A fully capable, updated holographic doctor, with _hair_. All of the space on the ship was devoted to one thing: _kicking ass_. About seven hundred and fifty meters long, representative of all the latest research and development breakthroughs of Federation scientists. This was a ship _meant_ for war. And it was sitting in dry dock. Because the war was over. The Dominion had lost. And her Captain was absolutely furious. "What do you mean, refitted?!" Sonnenburg thundered. "This ship was supposed to be commissioned three days ago! Why has my crew been locked out?!" The Starfleet officer shrank back. "Well, Captain Sonnenburg, sir, they've decided to remove the extra weaponry and turn her into...a science vessel...sir? Sir, are you alright?" The Captain had turned a cherry red, hands clenched into fists and shaking with nearly uncontrollable rage. He couldn't believe what was happening. He could barely suppress the urge to choke the life out of this bureaucratic bit-pusher. "Listen to me, Lieutenant Jacques..." he said coldly, "Either you find out why the _Glory_ is being refitted, or I will have your fucking pancreas as a trophy! Is that understood?" "Y-yes Captain Sonnenburg," he stammered. "R-right away, sir." Shaking his head, Sonnenburg turned on his heels and stormed out of the office, watching with satisfaction as both green recruits and seasoned veterans all hastily maneuvered out of his way. Of course, he was going to find out himself what the hell was going on with the _Glory_; Lieutenant Jacques was a coward and a fool, which was why he was stuck behind a desk filing paperwork rather than on the bridge of a starship. Such a snotty young cadet; he had an irrationally high confidence in the abilities of the ships of Starfleet. Which meant he wasn't surprised that the _Glory_ was being refitted. Which meant that Jacques thought the Federation had more than enough ships to assert dominance. Which infuriated Captain Sonnenburg no end. Just because they had won the war with the Dominion didn't mean they had almighty warships capable of slagging entire planets. All Jacques did was sit behind that desk all day, reading data and reports as they came in, making his own judgments based on his limited knowledge of front-line activity. He bet Jacques couldn't even get the time of day out of a higher-up, much less the reasons behind the refit. He made his way to the turbolift and ordered it to go to the Admiral's office. *** Admiral Brian Ferris sat behind his desk reading the latest reports from the front lines. Nothing really of consequence; Dominion fortifications surrendering, prisoners rounded up, salvage efforts underway...wait, what was that? Scrolling down a bit, he noticed a report from the _Enterprise_. The _Montgomery_ has been captured by unknown alien forces. Attached to the report was the transmission sent to the _Enterprise_ in the final moments. Ferris keyed for playback. Captain Gregoris discussing with Picard about the unknowns, then an image of the alien ship. It was _huge_. Gregoris back on, a bright green flash-- Suddenly, there was a commotion outside his office. Getting up, he prepared to jump out the door and subdue anything beyond it. However, whoever caused the disturbance beat him to the punch. Captain Sonnenburg leapt into the office before the unlocked door had a chance to finish opening. Ferris fumbled for his phaser, but Sonnenburg tackled him to the ground, pinning his arms down. "You will tell me," he fairly screamed, "Why the _Glory_ is being refitted as a bloody science vessel!" There was a long pause. Admiral Ferris took the initiative. "Please, do come in, my dear Captain. Let's discuss this like civilized men." Reluctantly, Sonnenburg lifted himself off of Ferris and lowered himself into a chair before the wide desk. "Thank you, Captain. Now what was it you wanted to ask me?" "Why is the _Glory_ being refitted?" he asked, his voice low and dark. If someone had interrupted them at this point, Sonnenburg would kill the unfortunate soul. Lieutenant Jacques timidly walked into the office, immediately leaving as he saw Sonnenburg get up to kill him. "Please, do calm down, Captain Sonnenburg. Jacques may be a pest and a fool, but he is good for something. For what, we don't know yet." Ferris smiled. Sonnenburg's knuckles were white as he gripped the handrests of the chair, forcing himself not to go on a murderous rampage. "Tell...me...why!" "Simple, really," said Ferris. "Why build a ship as sophisticated as the _Glory_ for a war when the war is already over? Since that is now the case, Starfleet Command has decided to turn it into the most advanced science vessel ever created." He bit his lip. "However, there is a new threat on the horizon." Sonnenburg leaned forward, ears perking up with interest. Ferris continued. "It seems that there is a new factor. Watch." Tapping a few keys, Ferris dimmed the lights and played the transmission from the _Montgomery_ to the _Enterprise_. Sonnenburg whistled in amazement as Ferris began writing something on his padd. He considered asking what he was doing, but instead asked, "How big is that thing?" "Approximately sixteen hundred meters long, Captain Sonnenburg. As a result, I have put in a recommendation that the _Glory_ be left alone so as to hopefully be of helpful defense against that thing. Does that make you happy?" "Not until every last tech and scientist is off of my ship," he sneered. "How long?" "Well, depending on the bureaucracy, maybe about a month." Sonnenburg slowly rose from his chair-- "However," Ferris quickly added, "Seeing that this is an emergency situation, I have already sent this report, along with my recommendation, to Starfleet command directly. They should have an answer shortly. When they do, you and your crew will take the _Glory_ and investigate the disappearance of the _Montgomery_, and also why the _Enterprise_ hasn't reported in two days. Until then, why don't you go vent off somewhere?" It was clearly a dismissal. "Aye, Admiral." He began to leave, but Ferris grabbed his arm. "Here, Captain, take this," he said, pressing a data chip into Sonnenburg's hand. "What is it?" he asked. "It's a personal program that I use to vent my frustrations. It's called 'Kill Lieutenant Jacques,' and for good reason." Ferris smiled again. Sonnenburg smiled back, grimly. "Thank you, sir," he replied. He walked out of the office, back to the turbolift. "Holodeck 5," he said to the computer. *** He was in there for two days straight, completely isolated from the outside universe. The days were filled with loud, piercing noises and flashing, dazzling superbright lights. Every time he tried to fall asleep, a shrill whistle erupted near his ear or the lights would flash a few times. He had been deprived of food and water. In a corner was a pile of his own waste, which had long since stopped coming. This had all been designed to break him, and so far, it was working. Captain Picard put his head between his knees and began to blubber and cry like a child. The door opened. Picard looked up, fear on his face and terror in his heart. Standing in the doorway were several white-clad soldiers, each carrying a menacing-looking gun. Two of them grabbed him roughly by his arms. "Where...where are you taking me?" he demanded feebly. "The Grand Admiral would like to see you," replied one of them in an eerie mechanical voice. "But first you are to be cleaned up." Picard looked down his gaunt frame at his soiled, filthy uniform, wincing at the stench of his own bodily waste and wishing for a swift death. No man deserved this kind of barbaric treatment. They dragged Picard to a small prison barracks and told him to wash up and change. He did so, and came out in nondescript prison garb. To complete the outfit, a stormtrooper clamped a set of metal binders over his wrists. Taking him by his arms again, they led him to the secondary command room, shoved him inside, and locked the door. "Ah, Captain Picard, I assume," said a tall man in a pristine white uniform, a set of colored bars above his left breast. "Permit me to introduce myself. I'm Grand Admiral Kenneth von Lowe. Welcome aboard the Star Destroyer _Onslaught_." "What have you done with the _Montgomery_?" demanded Picard. "I'm the one asking the questions here, Captain," he said smoothly. "You will first tell me why the your ship attempted to call in reinforcements." "They didn't call any reinforcements, Admiral," Picard said. "They were calling _us_!" "Don't lie to me Captain. Two transmissions were sent: one to you, another elsewhere. They attempted to blanket their transmission under the power of yours, but it was jammed before it could get anywhere. You will now tell me where they were sending it." He gave Picard a datapad. "This was the transmission's general vector. To where was the transmission directed?" Of course, Lowe was well aware that it led to a major space station named Deep Space Nine. But he had to gauge the...willingness of Picard to supply information. Picard looked at the vector and the accompanying star map. It was headed straight for Deep Space Nine. A chill went down his spine... "I don't know, Admiral, I've--aaaaghhh!!!" he was suddenly interrupted again as Lowe pressed a small button on his chair, sending a powerful shock from the binders through Picard's body. "I do very so much hate liars, Captain Picard. Please tell the truth, hmm?" "I said I didn't know!" Another shock. Picard fell to the floor, writhing in agony. "Aaagh!! Please stop!" "You will tell the truth, Captain!" said Lowe in a hard voice. "Or else I will torture and execute your crew, one by one, until you do!" "Please...I'll tell you...it leads to a minor supply depot...aagh!!!" "Wrong again, Captain Picard! Major Tierce, bring in the first victim!" The door slid open, and a stormtrooper shoved a nameless ensign into the room, following him and sealing the door. "Picard, you will cooperate, or else your crewman here will feel pain unlike any he has ever felt before!" "Go to hell!" Picard hissed. "Wrong again, Captain. Major?" Major Tierce set his blaster to low power and shot at the officer's feet. With a stink of searing flesh, his boots and bodily tissue were eaten away by the deadly bolt, leaving the bare white bones of his toes. The ensign screamed horribly and fell over into a pool of molten rubber, boiling blood, seared flesh, and hot urine. Apparently, the weak, young cadet had responded to his fear instinct. "This is what we call 'The Burning,' Captain. Failure to comply will result in your poor officer slowly and painfully losing more of his bodily mass. Now. Where was that transmission headed?" "Please, stop! I'll tell you! Just don't kill him!" he pleaded. "It was headed for a space station. One called Deep Space Nine." "Very good, Captain. Major, take our incontinent ensign here to sick bay and have his feet cybernetically replaced." Tierce saluted and led the ensign out of the room, making him walk on his bare bones, the ensign crying and blubbering the whole time. "Now, Captain. Thank you for your cooperation. I hope to chat again with you soon." Lowe flashed a thin smile at him as Picard was led out by another stormtrooper. *** "Approaching their last known coordinates, sir," reported Lieutenant Commander Luke Maxwell at tactical. "Dropping to impulse speed." With a flash of light, the _Glory_ emerged from warp speed into a dark void of space. There didn't seem to be a blessed thing around them for light- years on end because this happened to be a void area in between arms of the galactic spiral, in between groupings of Population I stars from the sides and Population II from the 'top' and 'bottom.' About as lonely as you could get without traveling intergalactically. "Sir, sensors are picking up several rather decayed drive trails," came the voice of Ensign Phillips. "Two of them are definitely Federation signatures, but there are three which are...totally alien. I'd say that both the _Enterprise_ and the _Montgomery_ have been here and gone, along with the other ships." Captain Sonnenburg took a deep breath. "Ensign, take us to the origin of those alien signatures." "Aye, sir." The _Glory_ fired her impulse drive and maneuvering thrusters, sliding forward and slightly 'down' through the inky blackness, towards the terminus of the alien drive signature. Suddenly, there was a flash of light. "Sir, reading elevated neutino levels. A wormhole is opening." "Take us in, Ensign. Slowly." Precaiously, the _Glory_ entered the chaotic light show that was the wormhole. Finally, the mystery of the fate of the _Enterprise_ and the _Montgomery_ was no longer a mystery. Ensign Phillips gulped. Maxwell winced. Sonnenburg grimaced. Someone on the bridge swore softly. Off of the port bow, left floating in the swirling tunnel, were the blackened, twisted hulks of two ships. On the other side, the thin lines of their ejected warp cores could be made out. Apparently, someone left a message for the next Federation ship that came by: "You're next." "Damn those bastards..." said Sonnenburg softly. "Helm! Turn us about. We're going to make sure those aliens never get back to where they came from!" "Aye, sir." With that, the _Glory_ turned its tail and bolted for the entrance. "Target the warp cores, Lieutenant Maxwell. On my order, fire aft quantum torpedoes and make like a fox with his tail on fire to the entrance," ordered Sonnenburg. "Sir, what the hell are you doing?" asked his bewildered first officer, Commander Steven Gilchrist. "The effects of collapsing a wormhole are totally unpredictable!" "I'm aware of that, Commander, but we must take that risk. It worked at Deep Space Nine, didn't it?" "Yes, but--" "Captain," the comm officer snapped. "We're receiving a distress call from Deep Space Nine! They're under attack!" Speak of the devil, thought Sonnenburg. "They must wait. This is top priority. Fire!" Four quantum torpedos sped away from the _Glory_ as she hauled ass towards the entrance of the wormhole. All of a sudden, several things happened at once. As soon as the _Glory_ leapt halfway through the opening, the torps detonated on the warp cores faster than expected, causing a massive explosion that blew them forth like a rag doll and caused the collapsing wormhole entrance to almost clip the back of the nacelles. The ship spun end over end, one nacelle leaking plasma, several systems going down and several officers going up. Hours later, after the charred officers' remains were identified by dental records, a memorial service was held and repairs got under way. Several hours after that, the leaking nacelle was patched and the _Glory_ limped at a sluggish Warp 5.6 to Deep Space Nine, hoping they were in time to help. *** Tierce smiled grimly as he made his way to Grand Admiral Lowe's room. The slow takeover of this new galaxy had been going smoothly, with minimal losses. Whatever concern and discontent the discovery of a whole new galaxy stirred in the crew was long gone, replaced by a rabid determination to follow the Emperor's orders to the last: Conquer this galaxy in the name of the Empire. They should have more reinforcements coming soon, but according to the last communique, the Rebels were starting to become a bit of a pain... But Deep Space Nine had been cake. Their forces were decimated, spread out over the quadrant, leaving few warships to resist the might of three Imperial Star Destroyers. The ground assault on the nearby planet had been no different. And they had forged an alliance with a local species called the Romulan Star Empire to ensure their victories. They hardly had enough troops for the station and ground assault, and the new allies were a welcome addition. He stopped in front of a door marked 'Private.' He hit the call button and waited for Admiral Lowe's convenience. It was a short wait. "Ah, Major Tierce, please come in," he said as the door opened. "I want to have a bit of a chat with you." Tierce grimaced inwardly. He had a bad feeling about this. "Now Major, your service to the Empire has been exemplary..." he stopped and took a sip from his mug. "And I want to commend you in the name of the Empire. Congratulations, Lt. Colonel Tierce." Tierce could hardly believe his ears. "What for?" he asked cautiously. "For inventing brilliant new terror tactics, of course," Lowe said to Tierce, a prime example of the well-rounded troop. Tierce was everything; stormtrooper, commander, tactician, interrogator. His broad range of skills proved him suitable for a number of tasks. "Such as strapping one of those red- shirted Federation ensigns to a proton torpedo and firing it at Deep Space Nine." Tierce's face flushed a bit. It had been one of his more brilliant pieces of inspiration...and then a stray memory came to focus in his mind. "Admiral Lowe, remember when you said you had something else planned for that Federation android?" he asked. Lowe nodded. "Just what did you do with it?" Tierce finished. Saying nothing, he smiled slightly and pushed a button. Over on a side wall, a panel opened up and a Threepio model protocol droid came shuffling out. "You put that thing in a _protocol droid_?" he asked incredulously. "Of course not, Colonel," he said frowning a bit. "Why would I replace a far more advanced Threepio droid brain with a simplistic positronic net, especially since it wouldn't fit? A 3PO unit's brain capacity is contained within five cubic centimeters, remember? No, no, what I did is far more amusing. Threepio: bring it forward." U-3PO shuffled forward, dragging a largish box with a red cloth over it behind him. "That'll do nicely, Threepio. Remove the cloth." The droid complied, drawing back the cloth...and Tierce burst out laughing. There was the head of Data, connected to a small signal jammer, staring out at them through the glass of the box. His eyes focused on Tierce; he opened his mouth and attempted to say something... And out of it came the tinkling music of a jewelry box. Tierce held his gut, waves of laughter roiling through his body. "Wh- what did you do to it?" he asked, chortling. Lowe struggled to hold on to his composure. "He wouldn't shut the kriff up, so I....*snort*...so I removed his vocorder and replaced it with that thing, which I found in one of the officer's bunks on DS9! Threepio...Threepio...take it back before the Colonel here has a cardiac arrest!" U-3PO rolled the box back into the compartment, the panel sealing after him. "Ahh..." said Lowe. "Back to the business at hand. Along with the prisoners from DS9 was one alien named Elim Garak who claims to have valuable information to trade." "Well, what does he want from us, then?" asked Tierce, his eyes still watering. "His freedom," replied Lowe. "Show him the proper Imperial hospitality...and use your skills to the fullest. I don't want him still alive by 1600 hours tomorrow. Dismissed." Tierce snapped a salute, turned on his heels and marched off to the prison blocks. *** Tierce entered the 'questioning' chamber to find several stormtroopers and a rather ugly alien standing before him. "Ah, hello, you must be Major Tierce-" "Lt. Colonel." Tierce quietly corrected. "Yes, of course, Colonel. My name is Elim Garak. I have information for you that might be useful." "What sort of information?" Tierce asked, inclining his head slightly. "Information about my people, the Cardassians, and also of our extensive intelligence networks," replied Garak. "And I'm supposed to just take your word for it?" said Tierce, disgusted. "All references to your people have made you out as ruthless, deceitful liars who conquered a peaceful planet and enslaved its people!" Much like the Empire, but Tierce didn't tell him that. "Well...some of that information is biased..." began Garak. "I assure you that we are a changed people now..." "I'm tired of your lies, Garak. Begin the questioning!" "Wait, no, what are you doing?!" shouted Garak as stormtroopers dragged him to the back wall. Flipping him upside down, they activated the binders that would restrain him to the wall upside-down and stripped off his clothes. His alien genitalia hung rather disgustingly the wrong way; wincing, Tierce ordered them covered up. "Speak!" demanded Tierce. "What shall I speak of first?" asked Garak, rather stupidly. Tierce smiled. "Everything," he said coldly as he jammed a small stiletto needle through his lower leg and into the wall. Garak howled loudly in pain and began to speak at great length of something called the Obsidian Order, the recording units going the whole time. * * * Several hours and fifteen stiletto needles later, Garak began to become unconscious. In response, Tierce pushed a button that activated the small heater units inside the needles. They heated up quickly and the smell of searing flesh and ozone filled the room. Garak began having spasms and jerking around as he tried to eliminate the sources of the pain. _That_ sure woke him up. We're not quite done with you yet," said Tierce. "You have yet to tell us about the strengths of the Cardassian fleet." "I...ah...know nothing about that really..." said Garak, not entirely truthfully. Tierce merely smiled. "Perhaps this will convince you, alien scum." Pressing another button, Teirce backed up a bit as the ceiling began to roll back, exposing a mesh with a small hole directly above Garak. Another smaller door opened above them. "These animals are Kordulian Daggs," Tierce explained. "Predatory species, unfortunately almost extinct. You see, they have a very inefficient digestive system which is only about 10% effective." Garak's eyes opened wide as he realized the ramifications of this. "And they're housebroken, too," said Tierce, smiling. "Please do enjoy." Opening the door, he filed out with the other stormtroopers. * * * About an hour and a half later, Tierce commanded the ceiling back into place from outside the cell. Donning a gas mask, he opened the door. The sight that was before them made them sick to their stomach. One stormtrooper nearly vomited in his helmet. There was Garak, naked, upside down, bleeding from fifteen places, burned, bruised, and now...covered in animal feces. Mounds of it. There was even some jammed up his nose. He was completely unconscious. Fortunately for them, Garak had spewed all his knowledge of the Cardassian fleet while they were gone, pleading to be let go. The visuals were not pleasant. The troopers removed the needles and hauled his body to a proton torpedo tube. "Tierce to the Bridge," he said. "Fire torpedo tube Four Alpha on the prison level. Track and destroy." He smiled as he watched through a nearby viewport, grateful for the fact that this small task force under Lowe's command had undergone such a refit. Garak came rushing out, turbolaser bolts tracking him, one finally hitting him dead on. Garak was completely vaporized. Tierce smiled. Grand Admiral Lowe would be pleased. Another system ripe for invasion. Another species ready to be conquered. Duty of the Empire. *** Captain Chuck Sonnenburg stormed off to the nearest holodeck. His first session with Admiral Ferris's program had been extremely therapeutic, and he was in a good mood for the rest of that day. However, what with the incident at the wormhole and the news brought to them by the new _Defiant_, his mood had turned rather ugly. Deep Space Nine was captured, and the Romulans had allied with the aliens. The _Defiant_ had been one of the only ships there, and consequently one of the only ships to escape, hoping to whistle up some reinforcements. No word on any other starships. Bajor had been sacked as well. They had almost collided with the _Defiant_. They had been on opposing vectors, and by the time they had sensed each other and dropped out of warp, they were barely a kilometer away from each other. One more second in warp and they would all have been space dust. Now, about a week later, the _Glory_ and the _Defiant_ were docked at Earth effecting repairs and the alien forces were still hanging around DS9, building up their forces for an attack on Cardassia. Captain Sonnenburg decided that a bit of shoreleave would be very nice, indeed. He tapped a few keys. "Run program Ferris-1," he called. "Maximum barbarity." "Program ready. You may proceed." The doors opened. Sonnenburg clenched his fists, turning bright red. His lip twitched. "KILL!!!" he screamed. He rushed to the holographic image of Lt. Jacques and promptly began to throttle him. "DIE! DIE, YOU SON OF A BITCH!!! I'LL KILL YOU, YOU WORTHLESS MOTHERFUCKER!!!" Sonnenburg screamed a string of eccentric obscenities. Lt. Jacques fell to the floor, his windpipe crushed. He disappeared, and another one appeared in his place. He opened his mouth to say something... Sonnenburg grabbed a long piece of piping and jammed it heavily into Jacques's mouth, punching out the back of the skull. As soon as a new Jacques appeared, Sonnenburg landed a double-fisted blow on top of his head. Jacques slumped to the floor, unconscious. Sonnenburg picked him up and dragged him to a nearby table and restrained him to it. "Computer: Make Lt. Jacques conscious again!" he ordered. Jacques's eyes fluttered open. "Hello, Captain Sonnenburg! Let me tell you about the new Type 84 phaser! It can output fifty kajillion terawatts of power, and--" Poor Jacques never got to finish his statement. Sonnenburg had dropped a large guillotine on Jacques, slicing him in half vertically. A new Jacques appeared. Grabbing a spiked mace, Sonnenburg quickly dispatched this one as well. Forty-two deaths later, Admiral Ferris came into the holodeck. He watched in grim fascination as Sonnenburg physically dismembered Jacques. Sonnenburg then picked up a rather large machete and proceeded to castrate him-- "I see you're enjoying yourself, Captain," said Ferris. Sonnenburg completed his task and flung Jacques's testes at Ferris, but they disappeared before they got there. "It seems our poor Lt. Jacques here has no balls anymore," Ferris said, smiling. "End program." Lt. Jacques vanished, along with the various devices of torture. "Feeling better, Captain?" he asked. "No," Sonnenburg replied, looking dumbfounded. "I wanna kill some more." Ferris chuckled. "You'll get your chance, Captain. Repairs on the _Glory_ have been completed, and you're being sent along with a massive Federation fleet to Deep Space Nine to engage the enemy." Sonnenburg whooped. Finally, a chance to kill real people. Hostiles, too! He skipped out of the holodeck, following Ferris to the transporter room. *** Captain Nathan Yates yawned slightly as he meandered along the promenade of this space station known as Deep Space Nine, watching with interest as stormtroopers herded prisoners from the _Onslaught_ and his ship, the _Abominable_, into cells along the path. Since this station was too small to be of any military use, Grand Admiral Lowe decided to make it into a spaceborne penal colony. As for the planet, Captain Sheppard had been sent along with the _Revenger_ to establish a garrison base. "Captain Yates," said someone behind him. He turned around. "Admiral Zeda!" he said, suddenly remembering his training and snapping to attention, saluting. "At ease, Captain. Let's take a walk, shall we?" Zeda said as Yates turned around. "Captain, does the Grand Admiral seem...different to you in any way?" Yates swallowed. "Uh...yes sir. He seems...I don't know. Different. Distant..." Yates was uncomfortable talking about his superior behind his back. "He does, doesn't he," replied Zeda. "I've been talking to Captain Sheppard, as well, and he's saying the same thing. When did it start?" "Well," Yates thought. "It seemed to begin around the time after the battle, when we were securing the station, and there was a strange energy surge detected--" Yates was cut off by the sound of a struggle below. They were quite surprised to see Major Tierce tackling, of all people, Grand Admiral Lowe. Admiral Zeda rushed to the edge. "Tierce! What the _hell_ are you doing?!" Suddenly, Lowe was no longer Lowe. The creature that had been impersonating him suddenly turned into a small avian and began to fly straight at Zeda. Yates, seeing the threat, immediately dropped to the ground, bringing Zeda with him. "Shapeshifter!" he yelled. "Get him!!" In seconds, stormtroopers converged on their location, firing stun bolts at the wildly jinking Odo. It was inevitable; one of the bolts struck home, but didn't seem to have much of an effect. Odo simply faltered a bit, but continued his flight. He shot into a nearby storage room and squeezed through the vent. "Are you alright, Admiral?" Yates asked, helping him up. Zeda brushed himself off. "I'm fine, Captain, thank you. I think we know why Admiral Lowe has been acting strangely--" he was interrupted when his comlink beeped. "Excuse me, Captain." Yates couldn't hear the conversation, but from the look of relief on Zeda's face could tell that they had found Admiral Lowe unharmed. Zeda confirmed it a second later. "They found him tied up in a storage room," he said. "Totally unconscious, as well. The meds say that he'll be fine in a few hours." Yates let out a breath he'd been holding. "Thank the Force for that," he said. "Damn aliens." "Indeed. We must make sure something like this never happens again. Put out a general alert for the shapeshifter," he ordered as his comlink beeped again. Along with Yates's. The message was the same. They were under attack. By the Federation. *** Lieutenant Jonathan Boyd sat sulking in the middle of what used to be somebody's quarters, but was now his prison cell. He'd been there for nearly a week and a half, with only bread and water to eat, and every single one of his escape attempts had met with failure. He rubbed a scab stretching from the side of his head to his chin; the result of one of his numerous attempts. Boyd was debating on another attempt when he suddenly heard a noise from the vent. Getting up, he grabbed his meal tray and attempted to hide behind the cot. A brownish-amber viscous ooze slithered out of the vent and formed up into a humanoid shape. Boyd instantly recognized Odo, the station's security officer. "Odo!" Boyd whispered loudly. "What's going on?" "The Federation has sent a massive fleet of warships here," Odo replied. "The Empire's attention is occupied; now is a perfect time to take back the station! I'm going to go out there and take care of the guard, but I need you to distract him." Boyd nodded. "And then...?" he asked. "Together, we free everyone else." Boyd flashed a grin as Odo made his way back to the vent. Taking a deep breath, he began singing as loudly as possible. "GREAT GREY GLOBS OF GREASY GRIMY GOPHER GUTS, MARMALADED MONKEY MEAT, DISINFECTED CHICKEN FEET, A LARGE SIZE JAR OF ALL PURPOSE..." The guard opened the door. "Shut up, you!" he yelled,brandishing his weapon threateningly. "...PORPOISE PUS, AND I FORGOT MY SPOON! GREAT..." The guard snapped up his weapon-- And Odo came up behind him, flooring the guard with a massive crack on the top of his skull. Boyd rushed out and grabbed his weapon, quickly adapting himself to its workings. It looked remarkably like an old 20th century firearm... "Quickly!" Odo hissed, grabbing another, smaller backup gun from the unconscious guard. "Open the other doors!" In a matter of minutes, they had opened all the cells in the entire section, taking out a few guards along the way. A dozen prisoners, all carrying blasters, stalked along menacingly, freeing others along the way. *** The setup of the garrison base had been almost complete when the call came in. The Federation had launched a daring and massive assault on the Imperials and Deep Space Nine. Captain Mark Sheppard cursed. He sprinted to the landing field and rushed up the boarding ramp of a _Lambda_-class tri-wing shuttle. There was no pilot aboard, so Sheppard slid himself into the pilot's chair, running the preflight sequence. The lights winked green, and he took off at a reckless speed, burning vegetation and a few stray troops as he engaged the primary sublight drive. He shot into space to where he had left the _Revenger_, only to find that it was gone. A quick check of the scanners told him that it was over at the station, engaging the Federation forces. Sheppard bit out a curse, knowing that with the _Revenger_ engaged as it was, he'd never get through and back on board before being destroyed. Intending on calling reinforcements from the home galaxy, he turned and set course for the intergalactic wormhole. Pulling back on the levers, he shot into hyperspace. *** The battle raged on. Although they had lost many starships and even more good officers, they had caught the Imperials picking their collective nose and dealt a massive amount of damage. However, once they recovered, it wasn't exactly easy pickins anymore. And the Romulans were nowhere to be found. They were all busy elsewhere, making acquisitions for the Empire. One less threat. Captain Sonnenburg surveyed the scene. It looked grim. They were losing ships like mad, and those small one-man fighter craft were like annoying bees. One alone wasn't a threat, but the massive waves of fighters together presented a very real problem. Fortunately, the _Defiant_-class starships were making do with those. But the larger ships required something more. They needed a way to deliver a massive amount of firepower quickly and effectively, as well as a way to get in and out of there as fast as possible. To Sonnenburg, it was as plain as day. He'd use the Picard Maneuver, a little something Captain Picard of the _Enterprise_ came up with a while back: a short hop through warp to the enemy ship, a massive broadside, a short hop away. But the _Glory_ alone wouldn't be enough. "Signal as many ships nearby as possible," he ordered. "Tell them to break off." "Aye, sir," replied Lt.Cmdr Maxwell. "Receiving twelve responses." "Open a channel. Attention all ships: This is Captain Sonnenburg. I want you all to form up into a circle wide enough to enclose that ship. Prepare for a Picard Maneuver on five." He received twelve acknowledgements. "Five..." "Four..." "Three..." "Two..." "One!" All at once, thirteen ships warped to the nearest Star Destroyer, which happened to be the _Abominable_. Again, all at once, they suddenly dropped out of warp and laid down a massive barrage of photon torpedoes, quantum torpedoes and phaser fire. The shields of the vessel couldn't handle all of the firepower at once. Mass explosions from torpedoes and phasers ripped chunks out of the hull of the mighty Star Destroyer. She fired back, hitting two of the thirteen ships with multiple turbolaser blasts, causing them to explode. The eleven remaining ships warped out of there, then turned back. "Form up," ordered Sonnenburg. "Let's do it again." This time, a circle of eleven ships warped in, strafing the now naked Star Destroyer with more torpedoes and phasers. A lucky shot here, an unlikely hit there, and the _Glory_, on the underside of the massive ship, scored several direct hits inside the main hangar bay. They lurched as several turbolaser beams grazed them, but they warped out of there again. Captain Sonnenburg could tell that they severely damaged the alien vessel. Jets of plasma and small explosions were coming from all over the ship, yet it still kep on firing. "All ships: formation Delta-Gamma-Omega. We're gonna take out that bulge on it's belly." Yet another warp hop. All eleven ships dropped out of warp right under the dome. All eleven ships fired their last torpedoes, drained all their phaser arrays, and punched through the bulge. It exploded. The ship began to turn ponderously, when all of a sudden a massive explosion ripped through the center of the behemoth vessel. More explosions, here, there, everywhere... And the Star Destroyer blew up. A few kilometers away, the _Glory_ dropped out of warp, several holes in her hull and the patched nacelle leaking again. She was alone. Although a whole third of the threat was gone, there were still two more Star Destroyers. And time was rapidly running out. *** Down on the station, Admiral Zeda, Captain Yates and Admiral Lowe were all in the area identified as 'Ops,' watching with horror as the _Abominable_ was attacked by thirteen Federation vessels. Two were destroyed. A few seconds later, the eleven remaining ships did the impossible. They took down a Star Destroyer. Captain Yates hoped that the rest of the ships had been taken along with it, but to no avail. A lone, severely damaged starship had emerged out of warp a few kilometers away. Yates swore. Zeda turned red. Lowe simply stared. They were losing. Even as they watched, a fleet of ships from what were known as the 'Klingons' decloaked in the perimeter. Several of the larger ships took on the Star Destroyer, while the smaller vessels known as Preybirds attacked the fighters and gunboats. A young lieutenant ran up to him. "Sir!" he exclaimed. "The prisoners have escaped!" Suddenly, the _Revenger_ began spinning wildly, smacking a few of the Federation and Klingon ships, destroying them. The _Onslaught_ was holding her own, however, and began to beat a hasty retreat. "Sirs," Yates said. "There's nothing more we can do here. The battle is lost. I recommend we escape while we still can." Zeda and Lowe grudgingly accepted this truth, and followed Yates to the nearest shuttle. Along the way, they ran into Lt. Colonel Tierce and a contingent of stormtroopers. Literally. "Sirs!" he breathed, obviously exasperated as they picked themselves up. "The prisoners..." "Yes, we know!" Lowe said. "We must get out of here and on to the _Onslaught_!" "Go ahead, we'll cover you!" A few minutes later, they were all on board one of the last _Lambda_- class shuttles left. Major Tierce ran up the ramp, along with about twenty stormtroopers, and strapped into the pilot seat, escaping just as the group of prisoners ran into the landing pad bay. They ran out just as quickly as the exit hatches were opened, the leader almost crushing his ankle in the door as it slammed shut. "Make way for the _Onslaught_ now, Colonel!" ordered Lowe. "I don't think that would be a good idea, sir," replied Tierce. "Look." They watched as the _Glory_ rushed towards the main hangar of the _Onslaught_. It disappeared in a flash of white. *** Captain Sonnenburg flinched as another greenish energy bolt barely missed hitting the bridge of the severely damaged _Glory_. This close to the alien vessel, more shots were hitting than missing, but all data indicated that there were only light guns on the underside of the vessel. As such, the shots didn't do as much damage as the heavier ones on top could deal out. Suddenly, with a bone-jarring jerk, the _Glory_ halted its advance, shuddering in the the invisible teeth of a tractor beam. Try as they might, the crew couldn't escape from the lock. "Hail the nearest ship," ordered Sonnenburg. "Tell them--" "It's no use, Captain. They appear to be jamming us!" "Shit!" "Sir! Ship decloaking off the port bow!" A Klingon Bird of Prey accelerated recklessly to the _Glory_'s position, firing its wingtip disruptors at the emitters slowly drawing the _Glory_ to it. With a sudden jerk, the _Glory_ was free. Flipping around to point 'down,' she engaged her warp drive for a second, long enough to get out of tractor range, and watched General Martok's ship systematically took out the rest of the emitters, then it began raking the bottom of the ship with concentrated fire. Sonnenburg remembered an old proverb he once heard...'The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one...' He then realized what he had to do. And so did General Martok. By keeping the guns of the Star Destroyer otherwise occupied, he was giving Sonnenburg a chance to end the battle. "Helm: turn us around. Point us straight at that hangar bay. Engage at Warp for the exact amount of time it took us to get here." Commander Gilchrist looked at him, suspicion in his eyes. "Sir, what are you planning on doing?" he asked. Sonnenburg smiled tightly. "We're going to ram them." *** The _Defiant_ was silent and unmoving in space, both of it's engines dead. They had been mercilessly chased by a whole squadron of the small, incessant fighters that looked disturbingly like flying eyeballs. Although their weapons were small and relatively weak, the combined power of twenty-four laser shots every few seconds took their toll on the aft shields. They had gotten rid of a few of the fighters, but their shields were dangerously low. All of O'Brien's modification did little to increase the shields, and eventually they went down completely. Taking the advantage, the fighters systematically blew out their engines. They would have taken the _Defiant_ as well if not for General Martok and his fleet. Now, all they could do is sit in space and watch as both the Klingons and Federation were slaughtered by the might of the Star Destroyers, the _Defiant_ taking the occasional potshot at any nearby Imperials with it's still functional pulse phasers. One Star Destroyer began spinning wildly, and the crew began to cheer before they realized that the spinning had caused a lot of the ships attacking it a great deal of damage, some of them even destroyed as the massive vessel slammed into them. They watched as the battle fiercely went on. Then they saw it. The _Glory_ had pointed itself straight at the Star Destroyer that was still in the battle. It then went to Warp, dropping out a mere fifty meters under the Star Destroyer, reorienting itself towards the opening directly above them. "What are they doing? If they had kept on their vector, they could have gotten past!" "I don't think that's what they wanted to do." "I can't believe it. They're going to ram them!" *** General Martok looked on with approval as the _Glory_ began its sacrafice run. It was rare for this species to display any sense of honor. But this Sonnenburg was unlike most humans. He would sacrafice himself to save others. A very honorable being, indeed. Today was a good day to die. To die with honor in glorious battle. Martok smiled as his small ship kept the Imerials harangued. "You shall be remembered, Sonnenburg." *** "What's our status?" "Power levels dropping, sir. We can't take a lot more of this." "Divert all energy to the engines. We have only one shot at this." "Aye, sir." "This is it," he said to nobody in particular. "Our final port of call." Captain Sonnenburg slowly arose from his chair, staring out of the viewport at the ever-enlarging hull of the monstrous ship. He was about to sacrifice himself for the good of the Federation, and that deserved some special commemoration. To the surprise of everyone on the bridge, he began to sing. "Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord..." Officers gaped, astounded, then slowly recovered. Three more joined the Captain in his spontaneity. "He is trampling out the vintage where grapes of wrath are stored..." Several shots smashed into the _Glory_ as she inexorably came forth. Hulls were breached, plasma leaking from several places. They went on, still others rising and saluting. The helm officer hit the ship intercom... "He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword..." Another hit, another flurry of explosions. The _Glory_ continued on. The sweet sounds of the old war song echoed through the ship as the tactical officer called it onto the intercom... "His truth is marching on!" They were almost in position. "Glory, glory, hallelujah! Glory, glory, hallelujah! Glory, glory, hallelujah! His truth is marching on!" With that, the helmsman hit the button, and they went to warp. A line of fire sliced through the _Onslaught_, and both were consumed in a spectacular fireball of exploded matter and loosed energy. The Imperial threat was no more. Captain Sonnenburg had made the ultimate sacrifice. *** A week later, Captain Picard, newly liberated from the prison that was Deep Space Nine, made his way to the podium in front of the statue of Zephram Cochrane. He looked before him at the vast collection of Starfleet officers, civilians and a contingent of Klingons, along with General Martok, all holding cups brimming with blood wine. He took his place, signaled for silence, and took a deep breath. "Citizens, officers, friends and allies," he began. "We are here today for several reasons. Mostly, to celebrate a victory over the most dangerous foe we have ever faced, and to mourn the loss of those who died defeating them." However, Picard could scarcely believe that the enemy was only three ships, with losses rivaling that of Wolf 359. "We are also here today to honor those whom have served above and beyond the call of duty." "Captain Chuck Sonnenburg, of the Federation starship _Glory_, was one of those people. He sacrificed his life to protect the freedom and lives of billions of Federation citizens. As such, he is being posthumously promoted to Admiral and is to have a memorial erected for him and his crew. His name will live forever in the Federation pantheon of heroes, for he went out in a blaze of _Glory_." A quarter of the crowd chuckled nervously at the pun. "Lieutenant Boyd, please come forward." Boyd stepped forward and saluted, his chest puffed up with pride and his eyes brimming with tears. "Lieutenant Jonathan Boyd assisted in the liberation of Deep Space Nine. If not for his leadership and heroics after Constable Odo was lost to the cold of space, I would not be here today. Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander Jonathan Boyd." Boyd saluted, shook Picard's hand and stepped down, only to be joshed by his buddies. He started to chuckle, but caught himself as he realized the seriousness of the situation. "We will now observe a moment of silence for those who have been lost, their lives shortened by the horrors of war." Everybody bowed their heads, including the Klingons, as a moment of silence was observed. After a bit, Picard conceded the podium to General Martok. "Federation Officers. You have proven yourselves beyond doubt in the heat of battle. Your courage and honor will live long in stories and song. Those who have died will be remembered; those who survived will remember." He raised his cup of blood wine. "To the memory of those who have died in glorious battle!" He drank, and suddenly the entire contingent of Klingon warriors broke out in raucous song. Martok joined in, as did the Starfleet officers, those who didn't know the words trying to hum along. A huge celebration ensued where just about everyone got completely wasted. Lieutenant Jacques, feeling a bit sobered and saddened at the occasion, headed for the nearest transport to go back to his quarters at Starfleet Command. *** About an hour later, Jacques arrived at his small military-issue apartment, finding a package on his bed. Cautiously, he opened it. Inside was a small doll, the exact image of Captain Sonnenburg. He read the small tag attached to one of the feet. _In the event of my death, I have ordered this to be sent to you. Squeeze my torso to hear my final message._ Jacques squeezed it angrily with all his might, feeling something hard-- "Got ya," it said, right before it self-destructed, killing Jacques instantly. The next morning, nobody knew what had happened to Jacques, but they had investigated the debris from the apparent explosion and found that it was something only the Romulans used. *** Two Imperial shuttles hung silently in space. In one of them, Captain Mark Sheppard sat sullenly, playing a game of single sabacc, while aboard the other, an argument was ensuing between Grand Admiral Lowe, Admiral Zeda, Captain Yates, and Lieutenant Colonel Tierce. "What about the inverse graviton beam?" "What the hell is that?" "Dunno. Came across it in some Federation database." "Quiet, you two. I've almost got it." "Don't tell me to be quiet, you kriffing Hutt slime eater!" "Watch your mouth, you Kowackian monkey-lizard!" "Will the three of you shut up already?! I've almost got it!" Over in the other shuttle, Sheppard quietly finished his game of Sabacc, tapped a few keys, and flew straight to where the wormhole's entrance was. It opened. The comm instantly pinged. "Sheppard, how the hell did you do that?!" someone demanded. "Simple, really," he said. "I knew you idiots would decide to leave the energy cores of the captured ships in there as a warning. As I predicted, someone happened along and blew both of them up, causing this end of the wormhole to temporarily twist up. I knew it would be only a matter of time before the thing eventually straightened itself out." "How did you know when it would happen?" "Simple, really. While you schmucks were busy screwing up at DS9, I kept myself busy by calculating the amount of energy expended by a double core detonation. I determined how much it would cause the wormhole to twist. And from the size and nature of the wormhole itself, I calculated how long it would take for the passage to untwist." "But how..." "Never mind that. I want revenge on these Federation weenies. I'd like to come back with a few hundred Star Destroyers or so." "Agreed, Captain. Shall we go?" "Yes. Now. So shut up already, please!" With that, both shuttles flew into the wormhole.