SEASON 3: EPISODE 04

TO DELIGHT IN THE INHUMAN WORD: Part Twelve

  Corhan’ital materialised in the empty corridor and immediately shrouded.  It was fairly fast but Corhan’ital knew that compared to the first and second, his shrouding was slow.  That was part of the reason he was fourth.  Not all Jem’Hadar were created equal, some were naturally faster, stronger, had better aim or awareness.  Compared to the others in his unit he was rated fourth.  Since they were all of the same age with no other combat experience prior to this that was all they had to use to separate them.  There was no doubt about the first and second’s abilities.  Corhan’ital had faced the first in several sparring matches and had failed to defeat him in all, as had all the other Jem’Hadar in the platoon.  Of the Jem’Hadar higher than him he had only managed to defeat the third and that was only on one occasion.  Corhan’ital was sure of his position in the unit, as were all the other Jem’Hadar.

  Corhan’ital mused on what the first obviously thought had happened: the third and sixth were dead.  If it was true, which Corhan’ital also considered the most likely outcome, that would mean he was effectively third now.  That is unless the first or the Vorta decided that he did not deserve such a promotion.  If they did Corhan’ital was sure that it was the will of the Founders that he remained at fourth.

  Corhan’ital silently moved forward, his senses on full alert for the first sign of movement or the first sound of other’s presence.  The corridor was still and empty, it was an environment he was familiar with.  His training for the most part had taken place in buildings and starships.  His only experience of outside was in the marshalling and training yards of the hatchery.

  He knew that the true mark of a skilful shrouded Jem’Hadar was how they conducted themselves while on the surface of a planet where it was not a stable and controlled environment as on a starship.  Where the Jem’Hadar had to account for the surface type so to be mindful of leaving tracks or disturbing grass and stones and the weather could work against them.  All a Jem’Hadar had to be concerned with on a starship was the more confined spaces and the lack of suitable cover.

  When Corhan’ital reached the holodeck he detected something.  He knelt down and looked at the carpet in front of the door.  He reached out and touched it, it was damp.  The dampness faded as he moved away from the door further down the hallway.  It signalled that the water had been transported from within the holodeck, most likely from the bodies of individuals and all had headed in the same direction, away from where he had come from.  There was something else as well.  It was not something he could see and it took him several seconds to place it.  It was a smell, the smell of death.

  Corhan’ital slowly moved his hand to the door control.  Keeping low he opened the door, counted to three and quickly peaked around the corner.  The room was empty and not active.  He waited to see if the opening of the door would bring any hostile attention.  When he was satisfied that no one was around he stepped into the holodeck.

  There was little he could gather from the interior of the holodeck.  There was no sign of any previous presence or violence.  The smell of death did not fill the room; it seemed to be mainly contained to around the door.  Corhan’ital guessed that if someone had died in the holodeck when it was active that when it was deactivated whatever systems used to clean the room had removed any evidence of the death.  As to why the smell was present at the door he guessed it had to have come from the water that the carpet outside had absorbed.  Corhan’ital was sure that someone had died in the holodeck, but he did not know for sure who that person was.

  Corhan’ital unshrouded and tapped his communicator.  “First, this is Fourth Corhan’ital.  I have scouted the holodeck.  There is nothing here.  I believe that someone was killed in the holodeck but I can find no evidence to indicate who.  Shall I continue to check the immediate area?”

  IN response all Corhan’ital received was static.  He immediately unslung his rifle and brought it up ready to fire.  His communications were being jammed.  He kept his weapon trained on the door to the holodeck and waited for it to open and for the enemy to attack...but nothing happened.

  Corhan’ital knew that staying in the holodeck was a poor tactical choice.  He had to move to another location and quickly.  He made his way to the door and opened it, stepping back so to get a clear field of fire out.  A quick check of the corridor showed it was empty.  Corhan’ital shrouded and stepped out into the corridor, still no one appeared.

  Slowly and cautiously Corhan’ital made his way back to his beam in point.  Still wary Corhan’ital opened a nearby door and entered that room rather than unshroud in such an open place as a corridor.  Once the door shut behind him he moved so that he had some cover between him and the door and unshrouded to try his communicator again.

  “Fourth to first.”

  “Report, fourth.”

  Corhan’ital was out of the jamming.  “I have not found the third or sixth but I have detected that there is communications jamming in and around the holodeck.  I am also certain that someone was killed in the holodeck but I have found no evidence to tell me who.”

  “Did you encounter any of the crew?”

  “No.  I do believe that the holodeck was indeed a trap but now that it has been sprung the enemy has moved on to a new location.”

  “Stay where you are and await further orders,” ordered the first, closing the channel.

  Corhan’ital waited several minutes before he was contacted again by the first.

  “I will be joining you at your position.”

  “What of the Vorta?” asked Corhan’ital.  The first was currently the only Jem’Hadar guarding the Vorta’s position; if the first joined him the Vorta would be undefended.

  “It is by her orders, fourth.  You would do well not to underestimate Rona’toran Jasis despite what you have heard from other Jem’Hadar or have experienced in relation to the Vorta.  She is a formidable individual.”

  Corhan’ital had no idea what that last statement meant.  “Of course, first.  I await your arrival.”

  It was only moments before the first materialised in the room.  Once he did Corhan’ital unshrouded.

  The first regarded him dispassionately.  The first had one simple order, “Take me to this site of death, fourth.”

  Maxine Benton felt like a fifth wheel.  The crew of the ship was doing what they could to hunt down the errant Swiftfire but as for her, she had nothing to do.  She had done the basic introductions to the officers of the squadron she was temporarily assigned to and that was it.  All she could do now was wait.  However, that was the last thing she could do.  She had gone and checked her fighter to make sure it was ready to go if...when they caught the Swiftfire and the mysterious Centaur.  With nothing left she took to pacing the shuttlebay.

  The shuttlebay was much like the Swiftfire’s given that they were both Akira class vessels.  Large and spacious there were fighters and shuttles all over the place.  As she walked she spotted something that was different about this shuttlebay and headed to it.

  “A Mustang class runabout,” she murmured as she got close.  It was one of the newer models of runabout to enter into service with Starfleet.  It had a quite different look to the common Danube.  It was landed on landing struts instead of on its nacelles.  The nacelles were connected to pylons that went straight out from the upper side of the rear of the ship and had a short but gentle curve downwards they met the nacelle.  To the rear of the craft was a mission pod, which from the look of it was a micro-torpedo launcher pod.  The pod was reminiscent of the one that sat at the rear of Akira class vessels.

  She walked along its side and saw its name, the USS Misaki.  She rounded it and saw its large powerful impulse engines.  From the reports she had read the class was faster and more manoeuvrable than the Danube.  A major difference between the two designs was that the Danube was designed so that it was modular, sections of the vessel could be switched out with mission specific ones.  The Mustang lacked this instead, like the Nebula class, the upper pod was interchangeable.  Given it looked vaguely similar to the Akira class pod Benton wondered if the pod at the rear of the Swiftfire could be changed to various other types.

  As she came to the other side of the runabout she spotted another vessel, one she did not recognise at all.  It was recessed into a small alcove so that until now the Misaka had blocked the craft from her sight.  It looked fast and dangerous.  It was a similar size to the Mustang it was next to but did not look anything like it.  It looked almost aquatic with its smooth flowing lines and tail fins.  It appeared that the nacelles were integrated at the rear of the craft making it flair outwards like large thick wings.

  Benton spotted a name on the craft, USS Stirling, but that did not help her identify the design.

  A man walked around from behind the ship.  He looked up noticing her.  “Admiring the Stirling?” he asked.

  Benton nodded.  “I’ve never seen anything like it before.  Is it a runabout?”

  The man nodded and walked towards her.  From his uniform Benton realised he was a marine.  “Indeed.  She’s a Warhammer class runabout.”

  “Warhammer...never heard of it,” she commented.

  “They’re pretty new.  I think they’ve only been in service for six or seven months now.”

  “Looks like you guys on the Fury get all the new toys,” Benton commented trying to keep the jealousy from her voice.  “We’re still using the Danubes.”

  “Nothing wrong with the Danube.  They’re a good versatile vessel,” said the marine.  Benton nodded in agreement but she was a pilot through and through and always wanted to get hands on the newest designs.  The mysterious Warhammer just moved very close to the top of her list.  “The Warhammer is more up our alley though,” continued the marine.  “They’re faster and better armed, which makes them better for our deployment.”

  “I thought you marines would be in dropships, like the Normandy.”

  “If we were normal Marines, maybe, but we’re SAS,” said the marine with obvious pride.

  “Special Assault Squad?”

  The marine gave her a look of surprise.  “Close.  Special Assault Service.  Don’t run into many people who get even one of the words right.”

  “I serve with someone who used to be in the SAS,” she admitted.

  “Really, who?” asked the SAS officer interested.

  “Colonel David Tiki.”

  The marine considered the name for a bit before he shook his head.  “Never heard of him.”

  “He would have been in the SAS back in the early 2360s.  He’s just a normal marine now.  He commands the company on our ship, the 83rd.”

  “He wasn’t in the units I was in or I’d know of him.  If we find your ship we’ll be deploying as the vanguard of the liberating forces,” he said.  “I’ll look for this Tiki; saving him will be a bit of professional courtesy.”

  “Will the rest of the marines join you?”

  “There are no other Marines on this ship.  Our troop is it.”

  “Troop?” she asked.

  “What run of the mill marines would call a platoon.”

  Benton had thought that since a company was on the Swiftfire the Fury would have a similar complement.  “We have an entire company on our ship.”

  A smirk crossed the man’s face.  “We’re special forces.  A platoon is enough.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Benton paused.  “I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Captain Reginald Winters,” said Winters offering his hand to Benton.  “Most people call me Reggie.”

  Benton took his hand and shook it.  “Maxine Benton.  Well Reggie, I hope you’re as good as you say you are because I have friends on the Swiftfire and I want them back safe and sound.”

  Cole opened the hatch of the Jefferies tube and exited into the transporter room.  As he was half way out he nearly jumped back as he spotted a body nearby.  On the ground before him with was someone from operations.  He had no doubt that the man was dead from the large puddle of blood he was laying in.  Cole suppressed his need to vomit and slowly looked around the room.  He spotted two other bodies.

  This is where the Jem’Hadar had first boarded and then beamed himself to the bridge, Cole realised.

  One of the other bodies was a slumped security officer, the top of his uniform a bloody mess from a serious and fatal neck wound.  Only the third person did Cole recognised.

  That is no way to die, he lamented as he viewed Mili, one of the ship’s nurses.  She was a popular figure amongst the single beings on the ship.  She had a shoulder wound and her neck was at an unnatural angle.

  Cole knew it was silly but somehow her death meant more to him.  The sight of such a pretty woman that he considered completely harmless saddened him.  That brought his thoughts back to Autumn whom he left alone to die in a turbolift.  That was why he was here; he had to prevent her turning into poor Mili.

  Cole made his way to the console.  He attempted to get the transporter system to lock onto Bailey but the system was completely locked out.  The system had to be tied to either the bridge or engineering.  No doubt both locations would be held by the Dominion forces.  That meant beaming Bailey from the turbolift was not an option.

  He spotted a medkit on the wall.  He rushed over and took it from its position.  He thought that with it we could go back to Autumn, apply a proper bandage or heal her wound.  The main problem with that was that she had lost a lot of blood and needed proper medical care.  She would be too weak to climb her way out of the turbolift and he saw no way to get the turbolifts running without taking back the bridge or engineering.  At best he would just help her last a bit longer before she died.  Bailey had been clear that she did not want him to sit around with her to watch her die if he could escape.  However, Cole was not going to just leave her behind.  He had to find a way to get her out of the turbolift that was the most important task and to do that he needed a transporter.

  Then it struck him.  The Swiftfire’s transporters might be down but there were several craft inside the shuttlebay that had transporters.  He could use one of them to beam her out and then use the craft to flee the ship.  A shuttle had a better chance than an escape pod anyway especially if it was warp capable.  Not only could he escape but he could rescue Autumn.  That was the plan now; it was time to save his soul mate.

  Tiki kept an eye on the door to the room as Dyson and G’Ethza went about their task.  He was the only marine with them.  Tiki had opted to be their only guard and sent one marine to be with Masters’ group and a fourth marine to help Lee’s squad.  Klingons were warriors but he did not trust them to look out for the captain first like his marines were trained to do.

  “So what exactly are you trying to do?” he asked.

  Dyson did not look up from the console.  “I’m setting it up so that no one will be able to stop it.  If we just arm a torpedo to explode a transporter can just remove it.  So I’m creating a cascading virus that will spread from one torpedo to the next.”

  “Which is difficult to do since the torpedoes have systems in place to stop people from remotely interfering with it systems,” said G’Ethza.  “We need to break through its firewalls so that the virus can gain access to the torpedo’s systems and then we need that torpedo to transmit the virus on to the next and continue the cycle until they are all infected and ready to blow.  However, we also need to make sure the virus syncs all the torpedos so they detonate at the same time.”

  “It sounds complicated,” said Tiki.  “If they have to infect each other in turn won’t that give the bridge time to deal with this problem?”

  “We’re going to get the ball rolling by infecting a batch of torpedoes.  It should spread the virus too quickly for the bridge to simply just remove the infected torpedoes,” said Dyson.  “Once all or the bulk of the torpedoes are infected the computer will initiate a separation procedure to jettison the pod from the ship.  Which gives us another problem, we need to make sure the torpedoes explode far enough from the ship.  If the bridge tries to prevent the separation they might delay it long enough that when the torpedoes explode they’ll take the ship with them.  So I’m also trying to make sure that the separation procedure can’t be stopped or slowed down.”

  “I guess you’ll go faster if you’re not answering my question,” said Tiki.

  Dyson looked up at Tiki and grinned.  “True, but I’m just too polite to say it.”

  “Trills,” muttered Tiki with a playful roll of his eyes. 

  “What if we changed it to a distance setting,” said G’Ethza.  “Instead of a timer we set the torpedoes to only explode once they are a certain distance from the Swiftfire.”

  Dyson appeared to be mulling the idea over.  “That would be safer and mean that any slight interruption of the ejection system wouldn’t be a factor.  It would mean that we...”

  Tiki tuned out the technical jargon from the two engineers.  There was nothing he could do here but remain alert for any attack.  There was only one door to the room, which was easy to cover.  To deal with the threat of transporters Tiki had brought with him a small transport inhibitor powerful enough to cover the room and some of the surrounding area.  Surprise beam ins were not an issue.  That was until they wanted to beam out and given how slow the transport was there was a larger than normal risk but that could not be helped.

  Thinking about the transporters Tiki decided to check in on the other teams, so he tapped his combadge.  The marines were all using an encrypted nearly undetectable communication system that operated independently of the ship’s communications system, which allowed them to remain in contact despite the internal communication system on the ship being offline.

  “How are you going, Stark?  Any joy with the jamming?”

  “Short answer: no,” said a clearly frustrated Stark.  “If I were to put a time on how long it would take, I’d say two days with the rate I’m progressing.”

  With that news it seemed their flare plan was still the only viable option.  He had hoped that they would not need to get rid of the rear pod.  He had voiced an alternate plan to Masters that involved them using the rear launcher to attack and destroy the bridge.  Masters had quickly vetoed that plan on the grounds that some of the gamma shift bridge crew might be on the bridge. 

  “No visitors?”

  “Not unless they’re being very quiet,” replied Stark.

  Despite Dyson’s assurances Tiki had still been concerned that the act of transporting the three teams to their locations would get the Jem’Hadar’s attention.  He had ordered Stark to set what he could to try and detect the presence of shrouded Jem’Hadar.  Tiki feared that if they launched the pod and lost Stark’s team they would be left with extremely limited methods to destroy the ship.  They would either have to try and regain access to the shuttlebay, assault engineering and try to blow up a warp core, or go to another torpedo storage room and try to blow that up.

  “Have you been in contact with the other teams?”

  “Yes, we actually came up with a way to assist them in their mission.  I’ve beamed them several micro-torpedoes to help weaken the structural integrity of the pylons.  It does mean it will take more time for them to finish setting up but it also gives them a greater chance of succeeding.”

  “Well, we still have some way to go here.  You keep trying to break through the jamming and I’ll be in touch when we’re ready here.  Tiki, out.”

  Tiki turned his attention back to watching Dyson and G’Ethza.  Dyson glanced up at him expectantly.

  “What?” Tiki asked.

  “Here I was expecting you to give us the ‘hurry on’ speech but instead you’re been very patient.”

  “I assumed you two were working as fast as you were able to.  If you’re slacking I can yell at you.  I picked up a thing or two from our drill instructors at the marine academy,” offered Tiki.

  “I think we’ll be fine without the yelling and psychological battering.  Plus speed is great but we are dealing with a plan that involves a lot of things exploding and it’s safer not to needlessly rush those.”

  “Those are my favourite types of plans,” mumbled Tiki.

  “Sorry?” inquired Dyson.

  “Nothing,” Tiki replied.  “I was just thinking about the plan.”