Tales of the Dominion War Read online

  Karle found the Vorta’s obsequious prattle distasteful. Allies or not, he thought, I’ll be damned if I’ll kowtow to a heap of animated protoplasm.

  Tension suffused the atmosphere of the bridge. Karle glanced back over his shoulder at one of the looming Jem’Hadar soldiers. With his scaly gray reptilian skin, the fierce bodyguard looked more Cardassian than Karle, but there the similarities ended. Karle couldn’t imagine worshipping the Founders the way the Jem’Hadar did. They’re no better than those superstitious Bajorans.

  The bodyguard met Karle’s gaze with a baleful glare, reminding Karle of just how uneasy Cardassia’s newly forged alliance with the Dominion was. Politics makes strange bedfellows, he reflected, and war even stranger ones still. But it would be worth putting up with the Changelings and their slavish underlings if it meant crushing the Federation and the Klingons once and for all. When Cardassia rules the Alpha Quadrant, all my sacrifices will be rewarded.

  He keyed the proper coordinates into the helm controls. The route he had chosen would take them to Terok Nor via one of the less trafficked spaceways in the quadrant. A dangerous space-time rift located along the route encouraged most travelers to give the entire region a wide berth. Karle judged the course enough off the beaten path to keep them clear of the major Starfleet checkpoints without seeming suspiciously evasive. Fortune willing, they would reach their destination without incident.

  To his annoyance, the Changeling left her seat and approached the helm. She halted only a few paces behind him, looking intently over his shoulder as Karle manipulated the controls. If Changelings could breathe, of which Karle was uncertain, she would have been practically breathing down his neck. “Can I help you?” he asked impatiently.

  “I am merely ensuring that our mission is completed successfully,” she said, continuing to peer over his shoulder like a disapproving headmistress. “Would it not be more efficient to cut across the Ohop system directly?”

  Acid churned at the pit of Karle’s stomach. How dare this imperious blob of goo keep second-guessing me, and on my own ship, no less!

  “That would send up red flags throughout the entire sector,” Karle said. “We’d be lucky not to end up with half of Starfleet on our tail.” He turned away from the viewscreen in order to look the Changeling squarely in the eye. “You may rest assured, madam, that I have already considered every aspect of our voyage.”

  “Perhaps,” the Changeling said coldly, “but you will forgive me if I do not trust the outcome of the war to the unproven judgment of a minor Cardassian operative.”

  She made Cardassian sound like a slur.

  Karle could not let the Founder’s disdainful words go unchallenged. “Might I remind you,” he pointed out, “that you would not have acquired the command codes were it not for contacts made years ago by the Obsidian Order.”

  The Changeling sneered, unimpressed by his reference to the once-dreaded intelligence service. “The Obsidian Order is extinct,” she retorted, “a victim of its own colossal arrogance and stupidity. We crushed the life out of it in the Omarion Nebula two years ago.”

  Karle leapt angrily to his feet. He had not forgotten the way the Dominion had once lured the Order into a trap deep in the heart of the Gamma Quadrant. Many valiant Cardassians had died that day, long before the present alliance.

  The Jem’Hadar reacted immediately to his hostile motion. In a heartbeat, five fully charged rifles were aimed at Karle’s skull, impressing upon him the need for a cool head. Raising his hands in a nonthreatening manner, he took a deep breath and stepped backwards, away from the Changeling.

  “Well, Captain?” she asked coolly. “Have you anything else to add?”

  He shook his head, not trusting himself to keep the rancor from his voice. It’s just as well, he thought, that I’m not carrying any sort of weapon. He had no doubt that the Jem’Hadar would have shot first and asked questions later if he had so much as reached for a pistol or blade. Plus, I probably couldn’t have resisted the temptation to blast the smirk from this Changeling’s waxy face!

  Turning his back on the Founder and her servitors, he resumed his place at the helm. He did his best to swallow his pride, for the sake of the war, but he could be pushed only so far….

  Hours passed, during which Methras kept up a constant stream of small talk in a futile attempt to alleviate the strained atmosphere aboard the bridge. Karle had to admire the Vorta’s persistence, if nothing else.

  “Once the Alpha Quadrant comes under the benevolent sway of the Dominion, I look forward to touring some of the more scenic regions of the Federation,” Methras declared. “I’m told that the Azure Peaks of Betazed are truly magnificent to behold, not to mention Earth’s legendary Victoria Falls….”

  In fact, Karle knew, Vortas had weak eyesight and an even feebler sense of aesthetics. Methras was lying shamelessly, as was second nature to his kind. The Vorta’s blatant mendacity chafed at Karle’s nerves. At least a Klingon tells you what he really thinks before he cuts your throat.

  A warning Klaxon interrupted Methras’s incessant chatter. “What is it?” the Changeling demanded.

  “The proximity sensors have picked up something,” Karle reported. “A vessel approaching at warp speed.” He hastily adjusted the sensors until a distinctive silhouette appeared on the viewscreen. His heart sank at the sight of the saucer-shaped contours, which bore a marked resemblance to a fossilized trilobite. “It’s Starfleet. A Saber-class starship.”

  The Changeling hissed angrily. “You said we would not be detected,” she accused Karle.

  “I made no promises!” the captain snapped. How was he supposed to know there would a Starfleet ship on patrol this close to the rift? “There’s a war on, haven’t you heard?”

  A blinking annunciator light signaled that the Solanco was being hailed. Karle activated the comm system, audio only. A commanding male voice abruptly echoed across the bridge.

  “Attention, unidentified vessel. This is the U.S.S. Bellingham, conducting a routine security check. Please drop out of warp immediately.”

  Karle glanced back at the grim-faced Changeling and shrugged helplessly. What else could he do? As requested, he powered down to impulse.

  The Changeling released an exasperated sigh and reassumed her human disguise. Looking away from the viewscreen, she cast a meaningful look at Methras, but the cowardly Vorta was already slinking back toward the entrance to the hidden compartment. The Jem’Hadar didn’t budge, however. They were not about to leave a Founder undefended in the face of the enemy. Their dark eyes gleamed in anticipation of a battle to the death.

  Not if I can help it, Karle thought. Perhaps this really was just a random security check after all. “Greetings, Bellingham,” he addressed the oncoming starship. Although small by Starfleet standards, the Saber-class vessel possessed more than enough firepower to obliterate the Solanco in a heartbeat. “This is Captain Jeremy Gleason of the commercial freighter, Solanco. What can I do for you?”

  The Starfleet vessel pulled up alongside them. “Something wrong with your transceivers, Solanco?” the nameless voice inquired. “All we’re getting is audio.”

  Karle glanced anxiously behind him. The door to the hidden compartment slid shut, concealing Methras, but the Jem’Hadar remained in plain view. “Hang on.” He stalled, while mouthing an urgent warning to the heavily armed bodyguards. Predictably, the Jem’Hadar ignored him entirely; it was not until the Founder nodded her assent that the stubborn warriors shrouded themselves, employing their innate ability to vanish from sight. Karle expelled a sigh of relief, then opened a visual channel to the Bellingham.

  A stocky Andorian wearing a captain’s uniform appeared on the viewscreen. “That’s better,” the blue-skinned humanoid said gruffly. His antennae perked in approval. “You’re a commercial freighter, you say?”

  “Yes, sir,” Karle answered. “I’m transmitting my manifest and course coordinates to you.” He licked his lips, which suddenly felt as dry as Vulcan’s Forge. “I’m think you’ll find all my data is in order.”

  The Andorian’s eyes dropped to scan Karle’s doctored credentials, then rose back to the screen. He stared across the void into the Solanco’s bridge. “Who’s that with you?”

  “A passenger,” Karle said hastily, “chartering a ride to the Enkidu system.” A trickle of sweat ran down his back. The bridge felt uncomfortably warm, even for a Cardassian. “Her passport should be with my documentation.”

  “My name is Evelyn McDougal,” the Changeling volunteered. Karle knew that the real McDougal had been discreetly terminated months ago, the better to facilitate the Changeling’s impersonation. “I have family on Enkidu Prime.”

  “Vraath ch’Evram, captain of the Bellingham,” the Andorian said. His stony expression and twitching antennae offered little clue to his suspicions or lack thereof. Geological epochs seemed to pass as Vraath carefully reviewed their paperwork. “You’re flying awfully close to the Hunyadi Rift,” he commented finally.

  Karle shrugged. “It’s the quickest way to Enkidu.” He tried to present the semblance of a cash-strapped skipper willing to cut a few corners. “Don’t worry, I intend to keep a safe distance from the edge of the rift.”

  Is he buying this? Karle fretted silently. He suddenly saw himself spending the rest of the war in a Federation detention camp, perhaps with the resentful Changeling as his cellmate. An irrational urge to flee came over him, but he knew that escape was impossible. The Bellingham would overtake his humble freighter almost before he reached warp speed.

  There was no choice but to brazen it out and hope that Vraath did not see through their deceptions. What if he insists on searching my ship?

  “How safe?” Vraath asked, but, before Karle could begin to answer, a Deltan first officer appeared on the viewscreen beside the Andorian. She bent over and whispered something in her captain’s ear, and Vraath immediately appeared to lose interest in the Solanco. “That will be all, Solanco,” he informed Karle, now sounding somewhat distracted. “Thank you for your cooperation—and watch out for that rift.”

  The transmission broke off curtly, replaced by an image of the Bellingham pulling away from the Solanco. Karle watched, holding onto his breath, as the Starfleet vessel warped out of sight.

  A tremendous wave of relief washed over Karle. He had no idea what pressing business had called the Bellingham away, but he felt as though he and his entire extended family had just been granted a stay of execution. That was a near thing, he acknowledged. I thought we were skewered for certain.

  Unlike Karle, however, the Changeling behind him was in no mood to appreciate their good fortune. “It seems our mission will continue, no thanks to you.” She sounded far more aggrieved than grateful. Her features melted back into those of a Founder. “So much for your expert piloting!”

  “There was always a chance that we’d run into a Starfleet patrol.” Karle was tired of being treated like an incompetent lackey. “But our cover stories held up, just as they were supposed to.”

  At the moment, it was easy to think that he and the arrogant Founder were alone on the bridge. Then the Jem’Hadar un-shrouded themselves and Karle was outnumbered once more.

  “Spare me your pitiful excuses,” the Changeling said. “I see that, as I feared, I must take a firmer hand in this operation.” She gestured brusquely at the viewscreen. “Call up your navigational charts. I wish to plot an alternative course.”

  Karle was offended by the very suggestion. He was the captain of this ship, not the Changeling. “There is no need for that,” he insisted. “The odds that we will encounter yet another Starfleet vessel are infinitesimal.”

  “Your judgment is no longer credible,” the Changeling stated scornfully. “Call up the charts.”

  Behind her, Methras emerged from his hiding place. Karle knew he could count on no support from the sycophantic Vorta. Bile rose at the back of Karle’s throat as he grudgingly complied with the Changeling’s request. A star chart materialized on the viewscreen, representing the space between them and the Bajoran system. An illuminated green line marked their present (and entirely satisfactory) course, while, less than a dozen light-years away, the amorphous borders of the Hunyadi Rift were carefully marked in red.

  The more Karle stared at the charts, just as he had done extensively prior to this mission, the more he resented the Changeling’s presumptuousness. “As you see,” he observed, “our current heading brings us to Terok Nor in less than five days, while bypassing the major inhabited systems.”

  “Unacceptable,” the Changeling said bluntly. “We have narrowly avoided disaster once already. I demand the highest degree of stealth. The gravity of our mission requires nothing less.”

  Methras hurriedly seconded the Founder’s assessment. “Of course, Founder.” He looked beseechingly at Karle. “No doubt the good captain recognizes the paramount importance of delivering the codes to Terok Nor.”

  “Frankly,” the Changeling said, “I have my doubts in that regard.”

  Karle had heard enough. Very well, he thought savagely.

  On the chart in front of him, the Hunyadi Rift lurked like a pool of deadly quicksand. Beyond its invisible boundaries, neither matter nor energy could ever hope to escape. A thin, humorless smile lifted the corners of his lips as he swiftly adjusted the ship’s heading.

  At Karle’s command, the Solanco warped toward the rift. The sudden acceleration momentarily overcame the bridge’s inertial dampers, throwing the Changeling and her minions off balance. The startled Founder had to grab onto the back of Karle’s chair for support while Methras, stumbling, slammed into the angular corner of a workstation. The Jem’Hadar growled and cursed, but somehow managed to stay on their feet.

  “Wait!” the Changeling cried out. “What are you doing?”

  “Giving you what you asked for!” he shot back, his eyes glued to the navigational controls. “We’re going to skirt the very fringe of the rift—where no one else in their right mind is going to venture, not even Starfleet!”

  “No!” the Changeling shouted. Karle relished the fear in her voice. “It’s too dangerous!”

  “I know exactly what I’m doing!” the captain proclaimed. He’d show this insufferable pile of ooze what a Cardassian was really capable of. His eyes narrowed as the Solanco came within forty-five minutes of the outer regions of the rift. This was going to be tricky….

  To his surprise, the Founder’s dismay gave way to contemptuous outrage. “Fool! I should have known better than to entrust our fate to one of your despicable breed!” Her right arm devolved into a viscous golden tentacle that wrapped itself tightly around Karle’s throat, choking him. “You Cardassians do not deserve the blessings of the Dominion. Do not think we have forgotten your treacherous attack on us in the Omarion Nebula—for we most certainly have not! Your time will come, after you have served your purpose. The sooner your wretched species is exterminated, the better!”

  I knew it! Karle thought furiously, even as he tugged uselessly at the slimy tentacle around his neck. The choking appendage resisted all his strength. I knew we couldn’t trust you! Lying blobs of pus!

  Methras and the Jem’Hadar looked on impassively as the Changeling throttled the ship’s captain, who expected nothing less of the idolatrous creatures. Of course they would not lift a hand to interfere with the Founder’s will! Karle realized he didn’t stand a chance—

  —until, without warning, a disruptor pistol suddenly appeared in his hand.

  Karle was in no position to question this miraculous occurrence. Gasping, he raised the weapon and fired it point-blank at the Changeling’s head. A blast of incandescent amber energy lit up the bridge, and Karle felt the tentacle about his throat go limp. He sprang from his seat and fired relentlessly at the headless body of the Changeling. The protoplasmic form bubbled and blackened before collapsing into a heap of ashes upon the floor.

  Never cross a Cardassian! Karle thought triumphantly, all thought of his original mission forgotten. We’ll see who’s exterminating who!

  He had only an instant to savor the Changeling’s destruction. Caught off-guard by the freakish arrival of the disruptor, the Jem’Hadar were too late to save their divine Founder, but quick to avenge the Changeling’s death.

  A lethal cross fire reduced Zonek Karle to atoms.

  Amidst the flare of the rifles and the chaos of the moment, no one noticed a shimmering red sphere hovering only centimeters beneath the bridge’s ceiling. Indeed, anyone looking up might easily have mistaken the radiant crimson nimbus for a red-alert beacon activated by all the furious weapons fire.

  (*) surveyed the scene with immense satisfaction. It had almost been too easy; the bitter divisions underlying this so-called alliance had already been simmering just beneath the surface. It had required only the slightest of effort on (*)’s part to telepathically stoke the entrenched animosities to a fever pitch—with the desired results. By the time (*) tipped its hand by arming the Cardassian, the unleashed hatred and bloodlust had already escalated beyond these puny creatures’ control.

  Delicious, (*) purred to itself. Truly delectable.

  And the games had only just begun….

  “What do you mean there is no white?” First Virak’iklan barked at Methras.

  The frightened Vorta swallowed hard, panic mounting at the back of his brain. He felt his control over this entire nightmarish situation rapidly slipping away. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it. It’s impossible, but…it’s gone.”

  In his shaking hands, Methras gripped the engraved metal chest that, in theory, should have contained a more than adequate supply of ketracel-white. Methras had thought that dispensing white to the Jem’Hadar, along with the accompanying ritual, would calm the agitated warriors in the wake of the Founder’s shocking demise, but exactly the opposite reaction had resulted when he’d opened the chest to discover that his entire stock of white was missing.