Scerioun's head twitched to one side as he considered Captain Bradly J. Edwards'
offer.
The Vorta locked his discontorting gaze on the captain of the U.S.S Khitomer.
"Very well, captain." He said in his strange sing-song voice, "A shuttle shall be
sent to your position."
And then, with that, the Vorta vanished from the viewscreen.
Ignoring the shocked gazes that had turned on him, Edwards pushed himself
and walked toward the turbolift. The blond-haired captain stopped just before he entered,
painfully aware of the complete silence that had descended on the Guardian-class
warship's
bridge.
He turned and looked at the assembled officers, meeting their gazes one at a
time.
"Chris, you have command. If...." He paused, considering his words, then said, "If
I don't come back, you're to take the Khitomer immediatly to Cardassia, ignoring the
Dominion
fleet, and aide our forces."
Commander Christopher Hobson--the Khitomer's XO--nodded numbly, still in
shock.
Edwards stood in silence for a moment, then said, "It's been a pleasure serving
with
you. You're the best crew in the entire 'fleet. I'm proud of you. Give the Dominion ten
kinds of
hell after I'm gone."
And then, he walked into the turbolift and turned to face forward. The door closed,
sealing him off from the bridge.
Hobson sat in stunned silence for a moment, then said, "Rob, you've got the
bridge."
Lieutenant Commander Robert Radisson said, "Whoa, wait a minute! Where are
you
going!?"
As Hobson bolted toward the 'lift, he shouted back, "To talk some sense into him!"
Then, before the Khitomer's Chief of Security could say another word, the
commander
was gone.




"CAPTAIN!" Hobson shouted after Edwards, running full tilt down the Khitomer's
corridor after the captain. Edwards was walking steadily and surely, although he looked
like he was dragging lead weights.
"Go back to the bridge, Chris." Edwards told him, not even looking back, "Don't
try and talk me out of this."
Hobson fell in beside him, "I'll try anyway. Captain, what do you think you're
doing!?
You cannot give yourself to that madman! He'll kill you!"
Edwards turned a fierce glare on his First Officer, "And if I don't, he'll kill Toyle
and Menyez, and then eventually destroy the Khitomer. Is that what you want?"
"No!" Hobson exclaimed, "But, we need you! You're one of the best captains in
the fleet, blast it! Without you, this war may go downhill, and we may lose!"
Edwards shrugged indifferently, "No chance of that. The fleet's already at
Cardassia.
I'm not needed now. You can command the Khitomer just as well."
"Blast it, Brad---!"
Edwards stopped and turned on Hobson, "Listen to me, Chris, and listen
carefully. I am going over to that ship, and I am going to let Scerioun do what he wants
with me. He will send Toyle and Menyez over, and let the Khitomer go. Now, I don't
*care* if I'm 'vital to the war'! My first obligation is to my ship, and my crew. If it means I
have to die to protect them, then *so be it*! That's the captain's job. I'm the captain. It's
my job. Now get back to the bridge, and get my ship out of danger and to Cardassia
where it can do some good, and let me do what I have to do!"
Hobson was speechless for the second time in the past hour. Before he could
say anything, Edwards took several steps backward, walking through the massive
doors into the shuttlebay.
Hobson smashed his fist down against the wall. A dull clank echoed down the
corridor, and his hand throbbed in pain from the impact, but he didn't care in the
slightest. He rested his forhead against his forearm which was resting against the wall.
Then, taking a deep breath, he stood up, straightened his uniform, wiped away
the tears that had appeared on his cheeks--suprised they were even there. It had been
a long time since he had cried for anyone--and walked down the corridor, back toward
the turbolift.


***




Edwards stepped into the shuttlebay in time to see the Jem'Hadar shuttle
settle on the deck.
It was an ugly ship. It vaugly resembled a cockroach, only it was purple and
had warp engines. He was going to his death in a bug. Not the greatest way to go...
Lieutenant Commander Dk'myr'chi stepped forward, standing in Edwards'
path. "Hello, Brad." He said.
"Dimitri," Edwards nodded to him and started to walk around him. He stopped
when the Human/Gorn hybrid stepped in his path again.
Edwards sighed, "Dimitri, what do you want?"
Dk'myr'chi replied, "Don't go."
Edwards said, "I just went through this with Commander Hobson. I have to
save my crew and ship. If the only way to do that is to die....well, then I'll do it."
"We've been friends for a long time," Dk'myr'chi argued, "I can't you do this
and hope to ever be able to live with myself again. I'm your friend, and being such, I can't
stand by and let you die."
"I'm not asking you to," Edwards replied with a small smile, "Dimitri, let me
be. This is hard enough the way it is. Keep my ship running."
Then, he stepped around Dk'myr'chi and walked toward the shuttle.
The hatch slid open and four Jem'Hadar guards stepped out, roughly shoving
Commander Zack Toyle and Lieutenant Menyez out ahead of them. Menyez stumbled and
nearly fell to the deck, finding it difficult to walk with his hands shackled behind his back.
Toyle agily landed on the deck, his balance impeccable.
Edwards walked slowly toward them. Seeing him, they started walking slowly in
his
direction.
They paused for a moment when they reached each other. Toyle met Edwards'
eyes
for a long moment. In the fighter pilot's expression, there was no humor, no bravedo, no
cocky grin. He was absolutely grim, and dead serious.
Then, he broke the gaze, looking down at his own feet. Menyez started, "Captain--"
But didn't finish. Edwards gave him a small, reassuring smile, then stepped past them
toward the waiting Jem'Hadar.
As he mounted the steps into the Jem'Hadar ship, he paused and looked back.
Dk'myr'chi raised one hand as a way of saying good-bye. Edwards saw him,
smiled,
raised his own hand, then vanished inside the ship. The Jem'Hadar followed him in,
sealing
the hatch behind them.
Seconds later, the shuttle lifted off, flying out of the shuttlebay into the pea-soup
nebula.
Toyle and Menyez moved to Dk'myr'chi's sides, gazing silently out into the nebula
where their captain had just vanished.
He was now in the grips of a madman...




Guest Stars:
Scerioun
First Tyr'mik
&
Lieutenant Menyez




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




The shuttle-ride was bumpy, to say the least. Apparently, the Jem'Hadar pilot
was having some trouble navigating the currents in the nebula.
Edwards sat in the aft compartment, a guard to either side with to more standing
behind them. He didn't care what kind of trouble the pilot was having. If the shuttle was
destroyed...well, that just meant that Edwards wouldn't have to face Scerioun.
Fortunatly--although Edwards looked on it as being unfortunat--they did not get
destroyed. The shuttle made it safely out of the nebula. Slowing to half-impulse, the pilot
began his approach to the mothership.
Edwards had to admit, the fleet was quite impressive, even thought three-fourths
of it had been destroyed by the Khitomer. A fourth of it--about a dozen ships--was still
quite a formidible armada.
With a jolt, the shuttle came to a stop on the flight deck of the mothership. The
hatch slid open, and one of the Jem'Hadar gestured toward the deck outside.
"Get out," He said to Edwards. They were the first words anyone had spoken to
him since he had left the Khitomer.
Edwards stood up, too fast for the Jem'Hadar's liking. Believing he was attempting
to make an escape--not that there was anywhere he could go--one stepped forward
and hauled off at him, hitting in his the stomach with his blaster.
The force was strong enough to knock Edwards back into his seat. Clutching
his stomach in pain, he tried valiently not to groan in pain. He wouldn't give them the
satisfaction of hearing it.
The Jem'Hadar repeated, "Get up...slowly."
This time, Edwards stood slowly, hands limp at his sides. He walked just as
slowly out of the shuttle, down the stairs, onto the cold metal deck.
There were almost thirty Jem'Hadar guards standing at attention in front of
him. When he came out, they brought their blasters up in one collective action, aiming
directly at him.
One Jem'Hadar who, judging from the way the others deferred to him, was the
leader, stepped forward.
Edwards spoke first, "I'm flattered that you find me such a threat as to need
thirty Jem'Hadar guards. What exactly do you think I'm going to do?"
The Jem'Hadar spoke, "We have heard you are quite resourceful, Captain
Edwards.
I do not take unnecessary chances. I am First Tyr'mik. Please come with me?"
Edwards' eyes roved over the dozens of guns aimed at him and said, "Do I really
have a choice?"
Tyr'mik didn't bother answering. He turned on his heel and marched toward
the door. The guard behind Edwards nudged him in the back, pushing him into motion.
Seeing no opportunity for escape, he started walking.


***




Hobson walked slowly onto the bridge, ignoring the questioning gazes of the
assembled officers. He lowered himself gently into the captain's chair, wishing with
all his soul that Edwards were seated there, not Hobson.
He sat quietly for several moments, painfully aware of the complete silence
that had descended on the Khitomer's bridge. Finally, he looked up and said to the
crew.....now his crew, "Captain Edwards...has gone with the Jem'Hadar."
A rustle of dissapointment, shock, and sadness rippled through the bridge.
Hobson continued, "He told me to get the Khitomer to Cardassia where we could
do some good. He told me to take good care of his ship and crew."
He swallowed, struggling to keep his voice level, "And that's just what we're
gonna do. As much as I hate to say this, we don't have time to mourn him. We need
to make sure we don't join him."
He turned to face Radisson who had collapsed into the security station's
seat. "Rob, what's our shield and weapon status?"
Radisson said, "Shields at full strength now, weapons fully re-charged."
"Mr. Zetan, report?"
Zetan turned to face him, face a paler blue than usual.
"Warp and impulse engines fully functioning. Station-keeping thrusters active
with two hours worth of fuel left."
Hobson looked back at Zyrenn who was leaning heavily on her console, face
covered in her hands.
"Aisha...." He started softly, his voice crumbling. He stopped, shored himself
up again and repeated, "Aisha, what's our overall status?"
She didn't reply immediatly. Moments later, she lowered her hands and tapped
several controls.
"All decks report ready. Emergency repair parties standing by, viewport bulkheads
ready to lower."
Hobson nodded and turned to face forward again.
"Alright. Mr. Zetan, track the course of that Jem'Hadar shuttle and plot one in the
opposite direction. Prepare to move out at full thrust."
"Aye," A long pause as Zetan worked, then, "Course laid in."
"Enga---"
"Signal coming in from the Jem'Hadar warship!" Radisson exclaimed, interrupting
Hobson.
Hobson replied, "Put it through."
There was a click from the speakers, then Scerioun's voice came down. The
hostility level on the bridge rose thirty-fold.
"--to Khitomer. We have your captain now. You may have him back once we are
quite done with him."
Hobson suppressed a snort. As he replied, he made no effort to suppress the
anger and hostility he was feeling. Instead, he poured it all into his voice and hoped
Scerioun picked up on it.
"Yeah, in a body bag."
Scerioun answered, "Quite right, Commander. If you would rather we desicrate his
body and take it to Cardassia with us, cutting off his head and placing it on a stake as a
warning against those who would seek to defy the Dominion, then I will happily oblige."
Hobson replied, "You're too kind, Vorta. We'll take the body."
Scerioun was about to close the channel, but Hobson blurted, unintentionally,
"I'll personally get you for this."
Scerioun didn't answer at first.
Then, he spoke, "I think not. Farewell, Khitomer. The next time our paths cross,
you will not survive."
Hobson waved at Radisson in disgust. The security chief hit his controls with
more force than was necessary, cutting the channel.


***




Scerioun heard a faint click as the channel was cut, and turned toward the
group of Jem'Hadar who had just escorted a human onto the bridge.
No, not a human. *The* human. Bradly J. Edwards. He was the only human
in Scerioun's world that mattered.
He swaggered closer to Edwards who struggled to maintain his balance when
a Jem'Hadar roughly shvoed him the rest of the way onto the bridge. Staying upright
while shackled was not easily done...
"So you are the infamous Captain Edwards..." Scerioun mused, stopped mere
centimeters from the captain.
Edwards stood fully upright, eyes full of fire as he glared lasers at the Vorta.
Scerioun didn't notice or, if he did, didn't care.
"Do you realize the amount of trouble you have caused me?" Scerioun continued,
"Do you realize that because of you, I nearly lost my life on several separate occasions?
I was one of the greatest Vortas in the Dominion, until the Anteries system was lost to
the Federation, thanks to *you*.
"Because of you, my task force was destroyed! Because of you--"
"Actually," Edwards spoke for the first time, his voice loud and clear, capturing
the attention of everyone on the bridge. "I didn't destroy your Anteries task force. You
did that."
"Me!? I did--"
"Yes, you did." Edwards said. "While I and the Khitomer were leading you and
your fleet away from the Anteries system, we lured you into a highly explosive nebula.
In your impatience to destroy the Khitomer, you fired disuptors inside the nebula,
causing it to explode and vaporize your fleet."
Scerioun scowled and replied, "I barely escape with my ship and my crew."
He moved back to glare at Edwards, voice rising again, "However, had you
not driven us out of the Anteries system, and had to not destroyed a number of
my ships, forcing me to chase you, it never would've happened. Therefore---"
Again Edwards cut him off, "Whatever. This is a pointless argument. The
only reason I'm here is because you threatened my crew. Now either kill me, or let
me go, but whichever you do, *get on with it*!"
Scerioun tapped his chin gently with a forefinger, a strange smile creeping
across his lips.
Then, faster than Edwards could dodge, Scerioun lashed out with a single
hand, backhanding him across the face with enough force to split his lower lips.
"Fool!" Scerioun spat at him, "Do you really think I'll just shoot you right now,
right here, and kill you?"
He actually laughed and said again, "Idiot! You will suffer for a long time before
you die. You'll be begging for death! You will pay for all you've done to me. Oh, you will
pay so very, very dearly."
Edwards arched a single eyebrow, "Somehow I doubt it Scerioun. You couldn't
even manage to destroy a single ship, so how do you expect to torture me? You'll
probably screw up at that too, just like you always do!"
Scerioun took two steps toward Edwards, fist raised behind his head as he
started to strike. Edwards gazed disspasionatly at the upraised fist, not flinching,
or even blinking.
Scerioun breathed deeply, in and out, desperatly trying to regain control. He
dropped his fist, stalked to the other side of the bridge, and stood for a long time,
shuddering as he brought himself back together.
Then, he turned and walked cooly back to Edwards, a look of contempt on
his visage.
"You will die," He repeated in a low, intense voice, once again in complete
control.


***




"ETA, Mr. Zetan?" Hobson asked, nervously drumming his fingers on the
armrest of the captain's chair. *His* chair now......
Zetan glanced at a chronometer, beads of sweat running in rivults down his
face, and replied, "Ten minutes."
Radisson rested his elbows on his station and leaned forward, "What do we
do once we're out? The Dominion fleet will detect us for sure, and they'll come roaring
in pursuit. Our shields may be full, but they won't remain that way long. Dimitri says that
the trajectory computers are sluggish. Our shields'll drop much faster than usual."
Hobson nodded, resting on elbow on the armrest, placing his chin in his
hand.
"We'll have to run for it," He said. "Or make a stand and die. I don't like either
one of those options, but I don't see what other we have."
Zyrenn turned and said, "What if we sent Phoenix squadron out to harass the
Dominion fleet while we ran? Maybe if they were distracted, they won't notice us
slipping away. Then our fighters could catch up with us."
Hobson nodded thoughtfully, "Not a bad idea. It might work, too. That Scerioun
character seemed....nutty, for lack of a better word....enough to get easily distracted. He
might focus on the fighters and forget all about us."
Coming to a decision, he looked at Zyrenn, "Tell them to scramble, Aisha. Tell
them to be careful, too."




Commander Zack Toyle winced as Doctor Susan Woods poked him in the
ribs, just above his broken one.
"Yeowch!!" He involuntarily yelped, drawing amused looks from the other doctors,
nurses, and Lieutenant Menyez. "That hurt, Susan!"
"Then sit still," She ordered. "Or I'll jab you again."
He glared at her, "You did that on purpose!" He accused.
"Yes, I did, Toyle." She said, not even bothering to look up from the dermal
regenerator she was running over the nasty burn on his chest. He winced when, every so
often, the cold metal tip of the regenerator touched the painful burn.
"WHY!?" He demanded.
"Because you won't sit still!" She growled back, "Now stop squirming and let
me finish patching you together."
"I don't squirm," He said defensivly.
"Fine. Stop wiggling.
"I don't wiggle either." He said.
"Well whatever it is you're doing, knock it off," She was becoming exasperated.
Having seen her exasperated before, and because she was the one healing the
painful burn on his chest, he decided not to aggravate her too much.
The Sickbay door slid open and Lieutenant Joe Kelvenski walked in, smiling
nicely to one of the passing nurses. Although Joe Kelvenski was a typical pilot,
egotistical, cocky, and occasionaly aggravating, he was polite, and friendly.
He stopped beside Toyle, glancing at the burn and making a face.
"Ouch, that's gotta smart." He commented, grinning again. "How ya' doin', Zack?"
Toyle hid yet another grimance and said, "I'll be fine as soon as the Doc finishes
with me."
"Then you're gonna lie down on that bed over there and get some rest," She
interjected, "You're still too weak to be running around."
Toyle shrugged over Woods' head to Kelvenski who winked, "Don't worry,
Zack. Just get all rested up."
Suddenly, before Kelvenski could continue, his badge chirped.
Bruce "Raven" Reno, one of the other pilots, said, "Hey, Joe! Get yer' butt down
here! We just got the scramble order!"
Kelvenski hit his badge and said, "Copy that, I'm on my way. Kelvenski out."
With an apologetic shrug to Toyle, he turned and ran out.
Toyle shoved himself off the edge of the examination bed and grabbed
for his uniform jacket.
Woods, suprised when her patient suddenly moved without her order, shoved him
back onto the bed, "What do you think you're doing?" She demanded.
"You heard the scramble order, Susan!" He exclaimed. "I need to get to my
ship." He tried to get up again.
She pushed him down again, "Your ship's still on the planet, remember? You
crashed it into the ground."
He fought to get up again, "So what? There's a spare Pheonix-class fighter
sitting in the hanger. I had it brought on-board during our last supply stop."
"No, Zack." She said firmly, "You're not in any shape to go flying around."
"C'mon, Susan." He said quietly, "Lemme me go. For the Captain."
Their eyes met for the first time in several years, and the silent communication
that came only with long years together passed between them.
She sighed, ran the regenerator over his rib and burn one last time, tossed him
his uniform jacket, and said "Go. Don't get killed, Toyle."
He got up and ran/limped out of the room, pulling his jacket on as he went.


Twelve Phoenix-class fighters were spewed from the launching tubes. They
came together in a tight bunch, flying with great speed around the nebula. Once they
came into weapon's range of the Dominion fleet, they burst apart in a beautiful starburst
pattern, each ship heading a different way. A few disruptor beams lashed out at them, but
they were easily evaded. The enemy fleet had been caught off-guard by the sudden
appearance
of attacking vessels.
Toyle flicked the comm to life and said, "Lead to Two and Three. Form up on my
wing! Let's take advantage of the situation before those ships start getting their shields
up!
Follow me in!"
"Zack, what're you doing?" Kelvenski exclaimed as he slipped into a neat
formation with Phoenix Three and One.
"Avenging the captain," Toyle answered shortly, diving toward one unshielded
vessel and squeezing his triggers.
Twin phaser beams lanced out, raking across the ship's hull. Explosions erupted
here and there, spewing fire and debris out into space as the great warship bled. Two
and Three mimicked him, pouring phaser fire into the ship. Two concentrated on one
warp nacelle while Three went for the other.
There was still pain in the burn when it rubbed against his shirt, and his rib
still ached, but it was all pushed to the back of his mind. In the foreground, he only
concentrated on hurting the enemy, and making them pay for Captain Edwards' life.
The warship finally got shields raised, but it was too little, too late. The
damage had already been done. Reeling out of control, the ship drifted closer to another
pair of besieged warships before finally exploding, destroying one and severely damaging
the other.
Toyle hooted in triumph and picked another target, ignoring the smaller fighter-
class
Jem'Hadar ships that had emerged from the larger warships.
Kelvenski and Phoenix Three split away from him, slowing and dropping back.
Every
time a smaller fighter craft closed on Toyle's tail, they would come in from behind and
destroy it. It was quite an effective system.
A red light flashed to life on one of his boards, hooting in time with its blinking. He
punched several keys and twisted his joystick around, sending his fighter in an almost
uncontrolled spiral.
He tore his eyes from the spinning battlefield outside the viewport, relying on his
sensors alone. It made him dizzy to stare as the galaxy spun with incredible speed about
him.
The red light flashed off, the hooting stopping. He breathed a sigh of relief and
leveled out. The Jem'Hadar had lost their missile lock.
Turning around, he zeroed back in on his target, for he had overshot when
spinning.
The mighty warship lumbered around to face him. He thrust his jaw out, narrowed
his eyes, and continued to rush straight at it.
Instantly, twenty-odd disruptor beams lashed out, trying to destroy him. Only
three hit, out of the entire barrage. Two were glancing blows, and the third struck full-on.
He kept coming.
They launched a full spread of torpedoes, thirty in all. Toyle smiled grimly
and wheeled away, the torpedoes following him. They were going much faster
than he was, and would've caught him had he not set a twisting course, randomly
changing directions every few seconds. The torpedoes had to come about, unable
to turn as tightly as Toyle could, and re-acquire their target. This gave Toyle several
seconds of breathing room.
While maintaining his crazy series of manuevers with one hand, he worked
a panel with furious speed with his other. He programmed a small homing beacon
to emit the same ID tag as his own fighter, targeted it for the warp nacelle of a nearby
Jem'Hadar warship, then fired it.
It blasted out of the aft of his ship, flying directly toward its target with
blurring speed. It punched through the shields and latched itself onto the warship's
hull, clamped tightly in place. Then, confirming that it was solidly locked down,
the beacon awaited orders to begin transmission of the false ID tag.
Toyle's left hand hovered over the 'transmit' button while he watched the
sensors. He waited until the thirty torpedoes were very close to him, then banked
sharply to the right.
They faltered for a moment, losing his signal.
He reacted instantly. He hit the transmit button, shut off his own ID tag,
and veered away.
The torpedoes floundered about for the briefest of seconds, seeking to
acquire their target. They found the ID tag of the beacon, assumed it was their
target, and zoomed in on it.
The warship, greatly suprised to see thirty of its own torpedoes bearing
down on it, started to veer away. Unfortunatly for them, they were too slow to
escape.
The missiles hammered first into the shields and then, when those failed,
into the hull. They ripped the nacelle apart, blasting it and circling about, striking
the underside of the ship.
The warship was destroyed in a brilliant explosion by its own torpedoes.
Toyle's grin widened. He and Dk'myr'chi had spent many a sleepless night
designing and building that beacon. They hadn't had a chance to test it until now. He
was glad to know it worked.
He wheeled about, targeted an enemy fighter, and set his phasers to full
intensity.
He didn't want to repeat his trick too many times at once, lest the enemy
catch on. He'd deal with some of the fighters, then have another go at it...


***




Scerioun wheeled about as klaxoned wailed through his bridge. He
flicked his viewscreen to life in time to see a huge Jem'Hadar warship explode.
Zipping about, almost too fast to see, were almost a dozen small,
agile, gray-skinned fighters.
The Khitomer's fighters! They were beseiging the fleet! Scerioun uttered
an oath, turning on Edwards.
The Jem'Hadar warshp rocked beneath them. Scerioun stumbled, but
Edwards just rocked back on his heels, maintaining his balance easily.
Scerioun stalked toward him with a terrible glare on his face. His lip
had started twitching again...
Edwards did possibly the dumbest thing he had ever done:
He laughed at a madman.
Scerioun halted his advance, blinking in suprise. Then, as Edwards
continued to laugh, he growled, "Stop it..."
Edwards' laughter subsided to chuckled, but still Scerioun repeated,
louder this time, "I said stop it."
Edwards didn't stop. Scerioun started trembling again. "STOP IT!!!" He
yelled at the top of his lungs. "STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!!"
Edwards, taken aback by the pure hatred and fury in the Vorta' voice,
stopped.
Scerioun whirled about and barrled his way forward again, stopping just
short of the front of the bridge.
Pressing a button on his viewscreen, he opened a channel the fleet
and bellowed, "All ships! Ignore those fighters and follow me! The Khitomer is
escaping! It's a diversion! All ships, follow me!"
Cutting the channel, he turned on the Jem'Hadar helmsman who was unlucky
enough to have Scerioun's attention.
"Set course for the other side of the nebula!" Scerioun ordered him, his voice
rising and falling randomly, "GET THEM!!"
The Jem'Hadar nodded and implemented his instructions immediatly.
"You won't catch them," Edwards sneered, "You know it. You've failed
every single time you've tried to destroy them, and I know you'll just botch it again!" He
laughed once more.
Scerioun turned on him. Although he was now deadly calm, having gone through
yet another strange mood swing, "I will not fail. This time, I will destroy your precious
ship."
He moved closer, viewscreen now off, "You know, I frankly don't understand how
your ship escaped us before. In fact, I'm amazed it wasn't ripped apart when it first
went into warp. That lumbering, patched-together, clunky excuse for a starship shouldn't
even have the integrity to make it to full impulse!" He laughed, obviously trying to provoke
a response out of Edwards.





Edwards didn't lose his cool however. He just glared back at Scerioun.
First Tyr'mik devided his attention between his controls, monitoring their advance
on the Khitomer, while keeping an eye on Scerioun and Edwards.
He had to grudgingly admit, he was impressed with Edwards. He didn't display
the slightest bit of fear at facing down the crazy Vorta. Oh, to be sure, he was probably
quite afraid, but he didn't show it. That was most commendable, in Tyr'mik's eyes.
Scerioun backhanded him again, knocking him backward. The Jem'Hadar
guards behind him caught him and pushed him upright again.
Tyr'mik had spoked to Scerioun briefly before Edwards had been brought
to the bridge.
"Why do you need to see him? He had asked, "We should have him
interrogated for information."
Scerioun hadn't looked at him, but had continued staring into space....viewscreen
off. "I wish to interrogate him myself. He is my prey; my prize; and I will not be denied
my right to kill him."
Tyr'mik now wished he had protested further. Scerioun would indeed kill
Edwards, and the Dominion would lose valuable information.
But what really bothered him was how Scerioun would kill him. He would
torture him, long and slowly, then finally give him the most painful death possible.
It was not befitting of Edwards to die in such a way, Tyr'mik believed. After
all, he was a warrior. Even if all his victories had hurt the Dominion, Tyr'mik still honored
the man. He was a warrior, and should've died fighting, rather than slowly being tortured
to death. In Tyr'mik's mind, that was wrong...
Scerioun spoke to Edwards again, and something in his sing-song tone of
voice made Tyr'mik look up.
"When we take Earth," Scerioun said, voice dropping first to a whisper, then
rising to near shouting level. "I shall personally kill your entire family. They deserve
it for spawning you. And because they spawned you, they will recieve a long and
painfull death. Your father...."
Edwards' jaw ground visibly, but he made no other reaction. Tyr'mik realized
that Scerioun had struck a cord, whether he knew it or not.
"...Your father, " Scerioun continued, "will take the longest to die. I shall
personally have him flayed and quartered. We shall cut his chest open, while he
is still alive, and take out his internal organs one by one, making a small mound
of them before his very eyes. Then, we shall close him up again, and feed him to
the dogs of your world. His head, we shall cut off and thrust on a stake, placing
it where all can see. His body, we shall---"
"Oh, stop it!" Edwards said with such force and vehemence that Scerioun
actually stopped, "You'll kill me long before you get to him--if ever!--so why bother
telling me about it?"
He leered at Scerioun, "And that's assuming you even get to Earth! Why I bet
you don't even get past Jupiter! You'll manage to screw it up somehow, Scerioun, just
like you have always done, and just like you'll always do! You'll probably wreck the whole
Dominion fleet while flying through the asteroid field! And the Founders will blame *you*!
Maybe
you got lucky before, but this time, they'll kill you.
"And good riddance, I say! You've been nothing but grief to both the Federation,
and
the Dominion! You haven't gotten a single thing right from day one!"
Edwards started laughing again, long and loud. Scerioun's face turned red. His
eyes
widened, his lips twitching madly. His hands clenched to fists at his sides as he started
shaking violently all over. His mouth opened in a silent scream.
Even the supposedly emotionless Tyr'mik felt a flash of fear. Scerioun was over
the edge. He'd lost it now...
"I SAID STOP IT!!!!" Scerioun screamed, his voice reverberating about the bridge,
"STOP IT! STOP LAUGHING AT ME! STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP....."
He lept at Edwards, fists lashing out, and struck him across the jaw, sending him
reeling backward. He crashed to the deck, rolling over as he struggled to get up and
away from the Vorta. The guards moved to help him up, but Tyr'mik waved them back.
This was between Edwards and Scerioun now....


***




Radisson swore impressively and bellowed, "Toyle just called in. He says the
fleet's moving toward our position!"
"How fast?" Hobson demanded.
"Fast!" Was the best Radisson could provide. The nebula distorted sensors to
near uslesness.
Hobson replied, "Be faster!"
"Trying!" Zetan exclaimed, "We're pushing it the way it is! Our engines are
very sluggish."
The comm chirped to life and Dk'myr'chi bellowed, "What in the name of Djinn
are you doing up there!? I told you to *take it slow*!"
Hobson hammered his fist down on the comm and said, "We've got the
Dominion fleet hot on our tail, Dimitri! Can you give us any more speed?"
"Bloody, no!" Dk'myr'chi retorted, "The warp engines just conked out again, and
the Impulse drive's threatening to fail! I'm barely keeping it running the way it is! There's
no way I can get you any more speed."
Hobson ran a hand through his hair in frustration and said, "Just keep us
moving! We'll do the rest." He cut the channel.
He looked at Radisson, "Upgrade to Red Alert. Arm weapons and raise shields.
Tell Toyle to take as many of those ships out as he can before they get here. We'll need
all the help we can get!"
"Aye, sir!" Radisson said, his world once again narrowing to his controls.




The Khitomer rocked around Dk'myr'chi as the Dominion fleet came into weapon's
range.
He scowled and chucked his hydrospanner over his shoulder, exchanging it for
a welding tool.
He shoved the thing into a small socket and started draining power from it
into the Impulse engines, desperatly trying to keep the power level at nominal levels.
"How is it now?" He yelled across Engineering.
Lieutenant DePaul shook her head and souted back, "Still dropping! There's
gotta be a leak somewhere!"
He grabbed Rodrequiz by his uniform jacket, stopping him. He had been
running by too fast to hear Dk'myr'chi.
"Go help DePaul find the leak!" He ordered. Rodrequiz nodded and hustled
quickly to help Laurel DePaul.
The welding took expended the last of its power with a sputter, and once again,
the energy level started dropping. Dk'myr'chi's scowl deepened as he grabbed his
tricorder,
plugged it in, and started draining its energy.
"*Where's that emergency generator!?*" He bellowed.
An ensign replied, "I sent two men down to get it. It's three decks down in cargo
bay four. It'll take some time."
"We don't *have* time!" Dk'myr'chi exclaimed, "Our shields are not gonna take
this kind've assualt for much longer. If we don't get that generator, there's no way we
can out-run that fleet. Call 'em up and find out what's taking so long!"
The young ensign hurried off to carry out his orders.
Dk'myr'chi unplugged the tricorder, now dead, and plugged in his personal
phaser.
Again, the Khitomer shook.




"Shields down to thirty-two percent!" Radisson informed Hobson, having to
shout over the klaxons that wailed through the bridge. "Six phaser banks off-line!"
Hobson watched his sensors in growing dismay, rapidly coming to the
realization that there was no way they were going to out-run the fleet. They couldn't
possibly hope to out-fight them either. Unless.....and idea came to him.
"Krod!" He exclaimed, "Can we use transwarp?"
Zetan shook his head, "Transwarp down. It's always the first thing to go."
So much for that idea.....
"Shields at twenty percent!" Radisson reported. "And I read a hull breach on deck
two!"
Suddenly, the deck ripped apart just under Zyrenn. It exploded upward, picking
her up and hurling her across the bridge. She smashed into the deck with bone-crunching
force. Hobson heard something snap when she hit. Her head lolled to the side. She
didn't get up.
He slapped his badge, "Hobson to Sickbay! We need a doctor on the bridge,
ASAP! Zyrenn's down!"
"Hang on!" Woods told him, "I'll send up an EMH."
On que, the air beside Zyrenn shimmered and a bald-headed man appeared.
"Please state the nature of the medical emergency." He said in a calm, un-
flustered
voice.
"Look down!" Hobson told him.
The EMH looked down, saw Zyrenn, said "Oh my!" and bent down beside her.
"Shields to ten percent!" Radisson informed Hobson. "Two more phaser banks
down!"
Suddenly, the slowly moving stars on the viewscreen slowed even further, then
stopped.
Zetan yelped, "Impulse engines off-line! We're a sitting duck!"
Hobson was out of his seat in an instant. They were unable to move, slowly
becoming defenseless, and unable to fight back for much longer.
"Keep fighting!" He ordered, "We'll take as many of them with us as we can!
Hobson
to Toyle: We're dead in the water now, Zack! Keep them away from us."




Toyle looked out the viewport at the Khitomer, confirmed that they were indeed
motionless, and replied, "Roger that, Commander. Don't worry. We'll get 'em."
Then, he changed the channel and said, "Lead to all ships. The Khitomer's
stuck, guys! Keep these ships away from them. I don't care how you do it, just do it!"
Then, heeding his own words, he dove toward a warship, preparing another
beacon...


***




Edwards stumbled to his feet again, narrowly dodging another blow
from Scerioun.
Scerioun was screaming unintelligibly, attacking Edwards with wild abandon. The
already battered starship captain was beginning to regret provoking the insane Vorta.
A foot caught him behind the knee and he went down again.
He struggled to his feet....a task which was nearly impossible. Between the
bucking, shaking deck, his own weakened condition, and his hands shackled behind his
back, it was very hard to stay upright.
He lept in the air as high as he could, lashing out with a leg at Scerioun. With
a mighty kick, he knocked the Vorta back. He would've smashed into the Jem'Hadar
guards who were standing quietly by the door, had they not stepped aside. Scerioun
hit the deck.
He came to his feet and yelled, "IDIOTS! KILL HIM!!"
The Jem'Hadar looked at Scerioun, then at Tyr'mik. The First shook his head
slowly, and the Jem'Hadar remained in their place.
Scerioun, seeing that they would be of no help to him, rushed at Edwards again.
Edwards side-stepped him, sticking his leg in Scerioun's path. The Vorta
stumbled over it, but managed to stay upright.
He came around with a powerful, double-fisted blow to Edwards stomach. He
doubled over and nearly fell, but manage to run to the other side of the bridge before
Scerioun could strike again.




Tyr'mik watched Edwards dodge and nearly interviened, but he restrained
himself. It was not his place.....
Edwards lowered his head and rushed at Scerioun....




....hitting him in the gut with enough force to drive him back into the wall. Before
he could bring his leg up to strike, Scerioun head-butted him, sending him reeling
backward.
He stumbled and fell to the deck, his head striking the metal deck hard. Spots danced
before
his eyes.
Scerioun rushed at him, kicking him furiously in the side. He felt ribs crunch
under
the blow. With a short outcry of pain, he wrapped around the leg and twisted his whole
body,
trying to knock Scerioun off-balance.
The Vorta brought his other foot up, then smashed the heel down on Edwards'
shin, snapping it mid-bone. He roared in pain again, and his grip on Scerioun's leg
loosened.




Tyr'mik winced, his leg aching in sympathetic pain as he saw Edwards' leg bend in
a direction it was never meant to go. He took a single step forward...
Scerioun kicked Edwards again, still screaming in fury.
He couldn't kill the Vorta. Jem'Hadar were programmed to be loyal to the
Founders
through the Vorta.
But what was he supposed to do when the Vorta was mad? When the Vorta
threatened the lives and safety of his ship and crew? Was that justification enough to
kill him? Was it!?
He took another step forward.
Scerioun kicked Edwards again, then again, and then yet again. The captain
was barely conscious by this point. He groaned in pain when he was kicked, but could
no longer fight back, or even dodge.
And Edwards....what about Edwards? Tyr'mik held a great respect for his
enemy. Edwards was a cunning warrior, and a masterful tactician. He didn't deserve
to be beaten to death by the likes of Scerioun! But was he willing to kill a Vorta--his
superior--to save the life of an enemy....?
Scerioun kicked Edwards again, this time in the face. He kicked him with
enough force to knock him backwards. He kicked Edwards again in the stomach,
and again the captain doubled over. He was battered and bloodied almost beyond
recognition...
Could he kill Scerioun to save Edwards....? Could he!?
Then, when he saw the look on Scerioun's face, the contorted look of pain on
Edwards', and the way Scerioun was pounding on the captain, he made his decision.
Yes.
He drew his blaster and fired at near point-blank range. The blast lifted
Scerioun up and threw him against the wall. His knees nearly buckled, but he
managed to remain upright.
He looked dumbly at the gaping wound in his own chest, looked at Edwards,
looked at Tyr'mik, then gasped.
"No...." He said, voice barely audible, "The power! The revenge! The glory! The....
the.....thahhhhhhhhhh......"
He pitched forward and struck the deck, bouncing slightly. Then, with a final
whispered "Nooooooo......" Scerioun died.
The First gestured to the guards who picked up Scerioun and hauled him out
of the room. Ripping the viewscreen from the dead body just before it was hauled out,
he fixed it to his own neck.
Flicking the comm on, he said, "This is First Tyr'mik to USS Khitomer..."


***




"...Come in, Khitomer."
Hobson looked up, face covered with smoke and blood. He was kneeling
beside the captain's chair, feeling for the pulse in an ensign's neck. As he had
feared, there was none.
Hobson slowly pushed himself to his knee, ignoring the pain in his sprained
ankle. He suspected he had torn several ligaments...
"This is the Khitomer." He said, voice hoarse and raw. He had inhaled a great
deal of smoke already.
The Khitomer was dying around him. Weapons were down, shields were out,
engines were out.... The Guardian-class warship would ben destroyed by the next
attack run the enemy vessels. On the viewscreen, he could see them coming about
in the distance, regrouping.
The image of the remaining Dominion ships was replaced by the craggy,
gray-skinned face of a Jem'Hadar--Tyr'mik, Hobson presumed.
"Stand down, Khitomer. We are returning your captain to you...alive. We
will not destroy you."
Hobson took a moment to process this. It was very sudden, and not what he
had expected at all.
When it finally settled, he withered back into the command chair and said.
"Uh...acknowledged."
Radisson said, his voice greatly confused, "Radisson to Phoenix squadron. Cease
fire. Stand down and return to hanger."




For the second time that day, a Dominion shuttle was resting peacefully
in the Khitomer's hanger.
This time, however, it was bringing someone to the Khitomer, as opposed to
taking someone away.
The hatch slid open and five Jem'Hadar stepped out. They all had assualt
rifles slung over their shoulders, just in case the Federation personell tried anything.
The afore mentioned Federation personell were equally suspicious. There
was a full squad of security officers, Radisson in the lead, on hand to greet the
arrivals. Each bore a heavy phaser rifle, a shield generator, a silver reflective vest,
and a hand phaser.
Commander Hobson had settled for strapping a hand phaser to his waist.
Four of the Jem'Hadar were carefully wheeling an anti-gravity bed down
the shuttle's ramp onto the hanger's deck.
The fifth strode forward to Commander Hobson, stopping respectfuly a
meter away.
"I'm Commander Hobson," Hobson introduced himself shortly, leaving the
pleasantries that sprang to his mind un-used.
The Jem'Hadar replied, "I am First Tyr'mik." with equal shortness. He turned
and gestured toward the four Jem'Hadar who were wheeling the bed closer, "As promised,
I return your captain."
Hobson said, "Thank you."
Tyr'mik inclined his head slightly, then turned as the bed was brought before
them.
Edwards was lying on it, in terrible condition. He was bloody and beaten. His
arm hung at an awkward angle, as did his leg. His uniform was in tatters.
Doctor Woods pushed her way forward with a pair of nurses at her sides. They
pushed the Jem'Hadar out of the way, grabbing the bed and wheeling it toward Sickbay,
not caring in the slightest about the enemies in their midst.
One Jem'Hadar took a step forward, angry at being shoved. Tyr'mik placed a
hand on his chest, stopping him.
Tyr'mik turned and gestured silently toward his shuttle. The four Jem'Hadar
went ahead of him.
"If I may ask..." Hobson started, staying Tyr'mik, "Why did you save him? For
that matter, why didn't you destroy us?"
Tyr'mik hesitated, then turned back and replied.
"Because," He said, "I have a great respect for Edwards, despite the fact that he
is the enemy. He is a fierce warrior, a brilliant tactician, and very brave. He did not
deserve
to be beaten to death, as he would have been had Scerioun been left to have his way."
He paused, then continued, "I did not destroy the Khitomer, because I have
equal respect for you, and for your crew. You did not deserve to be destroyed when
you were weakened and beaten down like that. It is a poor end for those who fight as
honorably as you did."
He turned back toward his shuttle, then turned and added.
"Go to Cardassia. Aide your forces in the battle. I shall also be there. I look forward
to meeting you in real combat."
Hobson touched his forhead in a faint salute, "Until we meet again, First. Good
luck."
"And you," A faint smile seemed to touch the Jem'Hadar lips as he strode toward
the shuttle.
Hobson held the salute until the shuttle had lifted up and flown out of the hanger,
then dropped his arm back to his side.
Radisson came forward and said, "Now *that* was the strangest meeting I've
ever seen."
As they walked out, Hobson jerked his thumb back in the general direction of
the shuttle, "Actually, I like him. He's certainly not your average Jem'Hadar."
As they stepped into the turbolift, Radisson said, "Who knows? Maybe they are
all like that."
Hobson chuckled...


***




On the bridge, Aisha Zyrenn--temporarily in command--breathed a deep, heartfelt
sigh of relief as the few remaining Jem'Hadar warships turned and lept into warp
with a silent bang and a brief flash of light.
"Stand down from Red Alert," She said, glad to finally see normal lights.
Zetan turned to face her, "Did we win?" He asked.
She shrugged, "I don't know, Krod. But we didn't lose, and that's enough for
me. As soon as Dimitri gets our engines back on-line, set course for Cardassia at
maximum
warp, or impulse, or whatever we have."
"Yes, sir." He turned forward again.




Captain's Log, Stardate 5357....um....point 2.

Doctor Woods has confined me to quarters and told me to rest. I tried to argue,
but she was quite....firm. She walked away grumbling something about Zack Toyle.
I chose not to press it, on account of her tone of voice.
Dimitri has repaired the warp engines, and is working on the impulse drive. We're
currently at warp five, rushing toward Cardassia. Although I suspect the main battle will
be over by the time we get there, we can still help with the cleanup. Actually, it's probably
good we missed the main battle. I sincerely don't think the Khitomer could take it. We've
been through one heckuva pounding the past couple of days. I don't think we could really
take another major battle.
Commander Hobson commanded the Khitomer excellently. A commendation has
been placed in his record. I think when promotion time comes around, I'll put in a
recommendation for his promotion to captain. He'd certainly be good at it.
Who knows? Maybe he could even take over command of the Khitomer. After this
latest mess, I'm considering stepping down more than before.
I'm sick of fighting...