David Sand's Apocalypse Caritas… Edited by Amy Szczepanski Series Concept Design by David Highlander The sun beat down on his face like a halogen lamp on one's skin. But that was what he had come here for. Not to bask in the glory of his accomplishments, not to heat his body with the warmth of others' gratitude for his efforts, but to put his spirit in a illuminating trial of fire and sweat. Day and night he put himself into a routine of physical hardship; here in this central Chinese monastery he purged himself of the impurities of unbridled emotion and strengthened his internal discipline. He returned after another mission where he had time to return to Earth and visit this place dear to him. He had just finished his final Tai Chi exercise where in his meditation he could hear his own heart, the creaking of his joints whenever the wind gently nudged him, the songs of every bird in the trees, even the light walk of his master coming from far away across the garden. As he came closer, Captain David "Charlemagne" Sands could sense the apprehension in his master's voice as the man's speech of wisdom cracked with worry. His times of simplicity here almost always ended like this, being called to what he had given his life to, the vigilance of his post that permitted the Federation to rest easier at night. "Charlemagne, I have just received a coded message from your superior in England. He has instructed me to have you come before him at once." Not even breaking the stride of his breathing, Charlemagne responded in complete relaxation and control, "I know. "You have progressed very far along the path of clarity you seek. But once again, you must depart." He paused with the weight on his mind that Sands, one of his most peaceful, devoted, if absent, students was so content to put himself in the way of such danger and engage in the savagery of war. However, he knew that life outside his temple was very different, and that though his own personal martial skill had never been tested, his student had put the aptitude of the interactions of force and being to just and proper use. Charlemagne got up and opened his eyes. He shut his eyes against the burning sun in a squint, but the time alone to himself and his thoughts felt... simple. "I have already packed your belongings to speed your journey." "Thank you, my friend. I know you don't entirely understand why I do these things in my life, but trust in the Tao: everything is one, and everything is many. Think of my duties as an attempt to enable others to live that they too might come to their own realization." His master bowed deeply toward Charlemagne. He only wished he cold have been a monk like him, but know where his heart lay. "Fare well, my friend. I trust you will come back safely." Charlemagne wanted to reassure his friend, wanted to ease his suffering. It was the same as if he was saying goodbye to his wife, and it hurt just as much. Charlemagne took his hand on his own, shook it, and departed the garden. He picked up his bag, looked for his communicator, and placed it on him. "Sands to Starbase 10, one person to beam site-to-site to location 1144, authorization Sands- Omega-Alpha-2-4. Engage." The next moment he was standing in the rain in front of the residence of the Commander-in- Chief Special Operations, Intelligence. He walked quickly up the stairs to the waiting Mr. Dunn. "Allow me to take your coat, Captain, before you catch a cold." Like a warmly hospitable grandfather, Dunn gently took his jacket and placed it in a drying unit. "Thank you, Mr. Dunn. Is he ready to see me?" "Yes, however, I must tell you he has been extremely worried all day. Constantly pacing like he's got the weight of the Federation on him. But I know he desires this station, even if he walks himself through the floor." Charlemagne smiled at his dry wit. "I know. That's why I'm here too." Mr. Dunn led Charlemagne through the Tudor mansion to the doors outside the study. "Vice Admiral Greer will see you now." And with that he opened one of the doors and quietly closed it after Charlemagne had walked in. "Admiral?" "Charlemagne, it's good to see you here so quickly. Get in here quick, we only have about fifteen minutes to talk. Your transport's waiting." "I'm not taking the Apocalypse?" "No, you're not going to be in an area where we could adequately conceal it." Greer opened the massive LCARS display to show a building and its technical layout. "This is your objective. Earlier this morning Starfleet Command received a distress signal from the embassy on Ytrios IV, near the far border with the Cardassians. It turns out there's a hostage situation where the ambassador, several members of his staff, and a staff officer of the Fifth Fleet have been captured." "How many people in there?" "We know absolutely nothing. Nothing about anything yet." "Then why am I here, Admiral?" "Because of the situation on our side. We both know the status of our organization and people's opinions of us. Needless to say, some in Starfleet would declare war and call a bloodhunt on us before going after the Dominion. The on-site commander is one of our foremost opponents in Starfleet: Rear Admiral Nikita Viers." Charlemagne had but one thought in his head, "Oh, shit!" Viers had, several times, almost singlehandedly exposed the entire Department of Starfleet Special Operations. She was the single most conventional, inflexible, orthodox officer in the entire admirality. She was the executive assistant to the commander in chief of Starfleet. Though her views clashed head on with her superior concerning SO, they had a wonderful working relationship. However, it was most likely an oversight on his part to assign Viers to this situation. Now Charlemagne was going to have to fight head on the one member of Starfleet dedicated to bringing him down, all while trying to save innocent people's lives. Greer didn't stop in his bad news either. "Another thing you should know is that she plans on mounting a Starfleet Security rescue attempt in the next twelve hours. We both know how close your arrival is going to come. I'm ordering you myself to do everything you can to confound her attempts, a direct violation of protocol as she is technically in command. I have convinced the President to put you in command once you get on site, but we both know she's still going to try pulling rank on you and over every person there while you're in charge. We both know she can't handle this, and her judgement is too clouded to see that the one organization she hates is the one she needs right now. I wanted to bring you here so I could tell you this without the risk of someone spying on us on some starship in transit. Now get the hell out of here. I'll upload your briefing on board the USS Katana." Charlemagne met his visibly worried crew after beaming up to the ship. They had received word from messages that they were about to embark on a doubly dangerous mission. They all quickly sat down in the requested single berthing room. Charlemagne had read Greer's written briefing on the way to the ship in the shuttle. Normally he would have beamed aboard, but that would have been a security risk since he and his team were trying to move incognito. He began his briefing with a serious, though not worried face. "I'm sorry we had to meet so abruptly and travel without our usual accommodation, however, we have a critical situation on our hands where it wouldn't be of necessary use. For this one we'll make do with normal modes of transport. To get to the point, an ambassador, a staff officer for the Fifth Fleet, and seven embassy members have been taken hostage in a botched attempt to retrieve a Dominion operative by a group of between 25 and 30 Jem Hadar, around 5 Cardassians, and probably one or two Vorta." Cicero spoke up, "I hate to be a nay-sayer, but are we able to take on that many in CQB?" "I've taken a good look at the layout of this building, and to be honest, no. But I've put in a request just now for our forces to be bolstered for any strike we have to take." Holliman could not help but exclaim, "Do you mean we have to work with some runt-ridden Starfleet Security team?" "I wouldn't dare force you to compromise your values, Mr. Holliman. That's why I've requested the crew of the USS Shadow Horseman." A grin crept across his face as he said this. His crew responded in kind with smiles of relief and satisfaction at their captain's choice. "We'll meet up with them about halfway there. But I've decided to give you the briefing anyway to give you time to think about it. They can catch up when they get here. Unfortunately a rescue is most likely going to be attempted before we get there. Greer isn't too positive about the potential outcomes. To disappoint you, Lt. Holliman, it's going to be Starfleet Security on first string. But Greer sent for the fastest transport he could get us. The USS Katana class will get us there as fast as currently possible, but we're probably not going to make it. Until then, we plan what we'll do if the situation is the same by the time we get there. "OK, let's get to the mission. The objective is as such: rescue the hostages. The secondary objective is to prevent the threat force from regaining communication with their forces just a sector away. We will practice and rehearse several kilometers away site in a mock-up I've already ordered built to be waiting for us when we get there. You will, upon arrival, practice room clearing in the building while I go teach them how to run a hostage rescue before the rescue." Seneca spoke up, "What are you going to do, Chuck?" "First we start getting the enemy off synch. We're going to blast them with low-wavelength sound to give them head-aches and nausea like they've never had." "But Jem Hadar aren't going to be very affected by that. " said Tacitus. "True enough; however, the Cardassians, and especially the Vorta with their sensitive hearing will be disorientated and physically weakened by it. Decapitate the top, and the body begins to fall. To make them all paranoid and to desensitize them to our continual presence, we're going to have a constant barrage of shuttles buzzing overhead shooting near misses with grenades around the embassy grounds. We'll also have fast attack vehicles doing drive-bys with their own missing shots. I'm also going to have underground drilling to make them think they have to monitor under the building too. The hostages are going to be puking their stomachs out, but they'll thank us for it eventually. All that should have everyone in there so run ?round ragged that picking them off in a any final rescue attempt should be a quite a bit easier. I plan on doing this anywhere from one to four days. By that point if negotiations haven't worked and they don't surrender, we'll have to go in and force them to. "Another thing I'm going to need is something you, Hwl, are going to be in charge of. I need you to hack into their computer and see if you can get me any intelligence about what's going on in there. I've gotten the current rescue team's logs from Greer, and it's something they've missed. I'd tell them to start now, but the risk of the Dominion knowing what's going on is a bit too great right now with the war going as it is. And besides who we're going to have to put up with, I want to keep us as quiet as possible. I'll get to that in a moment. "Other than those items, there isn't much to plan for other than practice your marksmanship and room clearing strategies. That's all we can do. However, there is that further problem. The officer in charge is Rear Admiral Nikita Viers, who, as I think all you know, is the main organizational opponent of SO. So as much as we would all like to break every appendage in her body and spit in her face, let's try to be on our best licit behavior lest we give her more ammunition with which to tear us down. I've been given command authority once I get on site, but until then she's in charge; also, while in command, I supposed to keep her appraised of what's happening as she is the executive assistant to the commander in chief of Starfleet. But let's try to keep her in the dark as much as possible: the less information she has, the fewer ways she can mess things up. Any questions? No. Then... dismissed!" At 0030, a coded transmission, addressed only to the captain of the Katana on his display, was received from a cloaked ship shadowing their course. The message and approval to transport had to be verified and responded to quickly as the ship sending it could only burst this fast at warp for only a few seconds. The captain quickly gave site-to-site coordinates in the berthing room that had been set aside and cleared for their use. The crew of the Shadow Horseman beamed aboard and set down their belongings in locked compartments. They dispersed throughout the ship seeking food, fun, and fellowship with their fellow SO brethren. Gorman set down a drink of whiskey so strong it made his eyes tear up it tasted. But he didn't care much for weak drink. Someone of his size and tolerance had to drink hard liquor to get any satisfaction. It was kind of a social badge of honor. He felt confident in living up to the saying in SO, "If all else fails, open fire!" in his non-combatant interactions: when talk fails, challenge the opposition to a drinking contest. He was deep in thought and enjoyment of this fine drink when he was startled by a hand smashing down a piece of metal beside at the bar in two-forward. "So, stranger, you got your unit coin on you?" a familiar voice asked. Unit coins were recent addition to the traditions of SO. A unit coin was a centimeter and a half coin minted with an inscription of the symbol of the ship or team of the person carrying it on one side (though never the actual name or registry number for security reasons), and on the other, the ship's motto. Granted you couldn't quite read the four line stanza of W. E. Henley on an Apocalypse coin, but it was all there. Each ship's member carried one while on off duty as a reminder of who they belonged to and the obligations and privileges inherent in being a member of that crew. The dare a SO member made to another was that a challenger slam his coin down. The other person had to get his coin out in 5 seconds or be forced to buy a drink of the challenger's choice. On a starship that really didn't matter since everything was free, but the shame of not being able to get your coin out still stuck. Gorman saw the coin and immediately reached into his pocket to find his. He checked one pocket, then another, then his last one. Where the hell had it gone? He patted himself all over but could not feel anything. He thought to himself, "Well, all's failed, so let's open fire!" He swung his huge right arm towards the challenger, but it was grabbed at the wrist and twisted upwards; his hand opened with the contortion, and he felt another hand press down into it as the first hand with its arm twisted around his. He was caught with his arm held straight and turned skyward in a painful lock that attempting to twist out of only yielded more pain and a harder clench. "Getting soft in your old age, Gorman? You think I'm dumb enough to let you start a boxing match with me when I can speed your inevitable loss? You're in a bad position. I can do anything I want. And you know what I want, Shawn?" Gorman started clenching his mouth shut as he anticipated a hard blow to any of the numerous body parts this assailant could cripple him with. The attacker shouted, "Barkeep! A pint of Heineken for us! And if this fine man here has a tab, make sure the beer goes on his!" Sands released his arm and Gorman almost fell in relief of being let go. They both smiled and gave each other a big hug as they sat down to talk of old times. Gorman started. "Well, Mr. Sands, you seem to have won this time! Don't think you'll win them all, though!" "I wouldn't worry about that: I'm vigilant in even in my sleep!" "Well, you sure know how to make an entrance. Now then, young man, you sure have royally pissed me off by yanking me half way across the Federation to help your sorry ass out. This had better be good. You know I like traveling on my own ship." Sands was silent for a moment and got very serious. "I wouldn't have called you for any less. With what's at stake here, Shawn, I think you'll thank me for getting you in on this. The reason you don't have your ship is if it was found, we'd be in a world of shit." "Really? How bad?" Sands only spoke on word: "Viers." Gorman's nearly turned white with fear. Sands poked fun at him. "Why, how now my Captain? What see you in those papers that you lose so much complexion?" "OK, enough with you and Henry V. But you are right. We have snakes of our own skin in our midst. You know I trust you, Dave. You'll do what's right and necessary. Now, let's say we finish this and go talk business?" "Agreed! But first tell me how the war's going on your side of the quadrant." The conference at 0500 between the two captains and the subsequent combined crew briefing really didn't reveal much more information. They were only two hours away from Ytrios IV, but the rescue by Starfleet Security had already happened. The results were just as Greer had feared. Fifty people tried to take the embassy through a frontal assault with armored personnel carriers that were destroyed through well places grenade launches by the Jem Hadar from the roof. The whole attempt was a fiasco; however, as was her custom, Viers had her personal security force seize all footage, filed her official report then and there, placing all blame on the commander the of the Security team that she hampered with her orders to expedite the attempt so as to prevent Sands from coming and getting any credit for a successful rescue. Sands and his consortium beamed down at 0720 to a chaotic scene of smoke, a putrid smell of burning flesh, and disorganization that rivaled some of the hell-holes of Bajor after the Cardassians left. He promptly ordered everyone to set camp 100 meters away from the main command complex and start setting up their equipment. Walking over the noisy command post, Charlemagne saw Viers using her rank to hold things together. She was managing, not leading. It figured. Her doctorate was in organizational behavior and change. Sands called it the "Paper Warrior Ph D"She wouldn't do anything herself and tried to delegate responsibility and blame to others, though keeping any credit for herself. After she finished dressing down some mid-rank officers, she turned her attention to the SO captain, Rear Admiral Nikita Viers gave a sharp salute to the entering Captain Sands. Sands wearily gave one of his own. They retired to her makeshift office and sat down. He had let his facial hair grow out a bit just to piss her off. He slouched down in his chair just to show her what he thought of her. "Captain, I have been instructed by my superior to permit you use of my resources while the current hostilities exist. However, I am still in this matter your superior, and I expect regular reports of your activities, strategies, and any negotiations you carry out." "Well, thanks to your schenannigins, Nikki, my job is going to be a bit harder than it was before. So, what else have you screwed up since the 0630 assault?" "Don't talk to me that way! I don't appreciate your tone or respect, or lack thereof. I also don't appreciate your lack of protocol for our meeting. Considering that you are the commander of a unit, I expect you to show the maturity and thoughtfulness that goes along with the responsibilities you hold." "Well, pardon my French, Nikki, but fuck you very much too. I intend to run my unit as I have always have. If that doesn't ?jive' with your modus operandi, than you can sit back and watch us crash and burn. You can get off thinking of all the ways you can court martial me all you want. But until then, my orders make it clear your job is to shut, put up, and pay up however I see fit and necessary. I'll be calling a meeting of your officers together later this afternoon when I get a handle on the situation after I interview some people. You can attend if you please. Until then, stay out of my way or I'll see to it that... well, I think we both know what I'm capable of doing to people I'm not especially fond of." Charlemagne felt a distinct drop in temperature as he exited her office; he thought the heat might have been turned on while he was in there. But this was a tent, and the funny thing was, he wasn't the one who was hot under the collar! The two crews got together for a check for everything they needed to make sure to ask in the interviews of those who escaped the embassy. They divided the 40 people among themselves and began in-depth debriefings of everyone, extracting meticulous details about everything that had happened up to the takeover. In one room of a the nearby suburban house, Seneca walked into to meet with a teenage girl that had been in the main lobby when the Jem Hadar and a Vorta had burst in killing the Security detail. Seneca at down in front of a young woman frightened at what was happening. It wasn't hard to imagine why. Ytrios IV had never had much trouble with the Dominion War. Pretty much none of this sector had. This was the first time she had seen the face of war; she was quiet distraught that her father was one of those killed in the ambush. On the other hand, she took one look at Seneca and realized this was not your typical Starfleet officer: his 30 cm mohawk would surprise anyone used to seeing neatly groomed personnel wearing nicely starched uniforms. "So, how're you doing? My name is Commander Schneider." "Yeah, so?" she asked a bit suspiciously. "Well, I'm here to help you sort out what's been going on, and to get any information that might help us in help those still in there.... What's you name?" "Laura." "Laura, it's good to meet you. I know this must be a difficult thing to talk about, and I know you've been through a lot of this already, but I need to know some stuff that might help us save other lives. Can you help me?" She looked around the room, tears welling in her eyes. "Alright. But you have to promise me one thing." "What's that?" "That you'll kill everyone of those motherfuckers." She put on a face of rage that betrayed a hardness inside that had been building since yesterday. "I have nothing left. My mother and father are both dead now. I have nothing left that really matters. Please promise me you'll take what's their's away from them." She started sobbing; Schneider took her in his arms and embraced her. He too knew her pain. His father had been killed when he entered Starfleet long ago. Seneca had to live without him half his life. "You know that our purpose is to get the hostages out, not kill them all." "Please promise me. Please." Seneca had never felt so powerless to provide comfort in his life. The intelligence Laura provided was quite good. Ten disguised Jem Hadar and a Vorta had come into the embassy under a ruse of native inhabitants asking for a conference with the ambassador about some issues concerning the planet and requesting the Federation help. As they began dialing the office for the appointment's confirmation, the Jem Hadar opened fire, taking out every Starfleet Security member and rushing up the stairs to the second floor where they dispatched the guards there too. Now the teams knew there were at least ten Jem Hadar, in addition to those that entered on the rooftop. Charlemagne interviewed the Starfleet Intelligence agent that had got out through the shuttle bay entrance and coming all the way down from the second floor. How he did it was a miracle, but Charlemagne had no time to dawdle on heroics, though he did think in passing this guy would have made a great member of SO. His debriefing was even more fruitful. >From him a facial profile of every hostage he saw was gathered and what little he knew of their roles in the embassy. He also learned even more precise numbers. He said he could confirm the presence of at minimum twenty Jem Hadar, one Vorta, and three Cardassians. That doubled the number of known threats. The news didn't seem to get any better... Charlemagne held the meeting as planned at 1400, with Viers in the room, taking copious notes on everything he did. No doubt she was writing down anything she cold use against him in her reports. One thing she did well, Charlemagne had to admit, was fight the paper war. His first order was to have the two orbiting starships, the Dagget and Norbert, begin round the clock flybys with artillery bombardment around the grounds, though never hitting the suburban compound itself. The residents around the embassy had been moved out, but the Starfleet Engineering Corps would gladly build them even better homes afterwards. Greer would see to that. He also had the fast personnel carriers of the planet drive by at high speeds with sirens blazing at full volume. He had the sanitation and public works crews do underground drilling in the sewers. He even made sure to throw in dynamite explosions to help desensitize the holding forces to the sounds of explosions coming from under them in case he really did have to use a subterranean assault mode. He had searchlights shine beams into every window to keep the soothing effects of night away from the Cardassians. The Vorta and Jem Hadar didn't need that much sleep, but at least three enemy soldiers might be a bit more worn out. Charlemagne also commissioned a resident of the city to use his oversized speakers he had always complained about for not being able to use them to their full potential. During the day he played some especially cacophonous X opera. At night he played the continuous, rumbling monotone that made everyone in half a mile of the speakers sick to their stomach. Charlemagne made sure to tell the gracious young man to start it at precisely 2000, the time Viers always went to bed. He also had Mirek and Holliman sneak through camp with their cloaks on to the embassy. Under the rain of fire they drilled holes into the walls of the building and set up listening devices and sonic containers around them to help filter noise from the outside. From those he could get marginally good realtime intelligence about where the first floor security teams were located. The real question however, lay in getting intelligence on the second level. That was being accomplished by Hwl and Allenby at the portable computer terminal on loan from Starfleet Intelligence. It took no less than 10 hours of continuous work, but they finally hacked into the security camera network. To say the least, the situation was not good... Viers came up to him afterwards. "Captain, Sands, I don't think this is a good idea. Do you have any idea of what you're doing to the inhabitants of this city?" "Well, let's see, I'll make their lives not so nice for a week, while saving people's lives. I think that's a pretty good tradeoff, don't you?" "Actually, I don't. We have to retain good diplomatic relations with these people, and here you are playing cowboy with these hostages while surely hurting the people around us!" "What I've planned might give us the edge when the Vorta in there haven't slept in a few days. A delay in an order during any final assault they might need to give because they have a headache we caused with all these psy-ops I'm setting up might keep my people safe and make the difference between total victory or a complete loss of human assets! Get out of my site! I have work to do." And Sands walked out on her. One thing taught to all members of Special Operations, and to a lesser extent Starfleet Academy, is the theory of special forces and their use. It goes completely against intuition when viewed with a traditional Terran western hemispheric outlook on war. The whole concept lays in the use of a smaller, lighter equipped force against a larger force that is prepared for attackers, better equipped, and in an inherently defensive position, which in a conventional sense, is the stronger position. But unconventional warfare is the antithesis of that supposition. Time and time again SO had reproved that. Now it was time to prepare to do that again. Charlemagne had to divide the crews into teams to take down the building in an orderly fashion with minimal risk. To start off, he had to get better acquainted with the opposition. Starting at 0500 the next morning, the music and bombardment stopped. On the loud speaker, Lieutenant Commander Tom Bayliss, a negotiator personally selected by Sands, spoke out calling for talks of surrendering hostages. Naturally, the Vorta, being the diplomatic species he was, gladly offered to have the unarmed negotiator enter the first floor and talk of compromise. Neither man got what they wanted. Bayliss tried his best to get some hostages released, but the Vorta, named Yojum, refused unless he be allowed to communicate with his superiors. Everyone knew as soon as they did that, every piece of intelligence they had gotten their hands on would be transferred and put out into the open. But Bayliss knew fully he was, first, a stalling tactic, and second, a spy. His first duty was to make them delay enough that the psy-ops would begin taking more effect, making everyone's job easier. Viers wanted to compromise and get hostages out sooner, but Sands countermanded her order. He told Bayliss to keep a hard line while he wore them out. Secondly, though, it was his job to gauge the condition of those inside. His report back to Charlemagne and Gorman was positive. Yojum looked visibly weary, probably just from lack of sleep. Though any sensor scans of him would have given away his credibility, he could tell quite well that his adversary was beginning to hurt from the visual and audio barrage set up surrounding the embassy. Better still, Bayliss stated that it might also be beginning to have an impact on his leadership. He was not receptive to suggestions made by his Cardassian counterpart. Not that Vorta ever took kindly to Cardassian suggestions, but there was definite animosity that went beyond their working relationship. Either the two had serious interpersonal issues, or the psy-ops being waged on them was taking hold over their morale. That was exactly what Charlemagne needed to hear. The next order of business was to start team training and rehearsals. In order to effectively perform anti-terrorism operations, one must be a good shooter. If not, no matter how well you can push the transport button, no matter how much scientific theory you studied at the Academy, no matter how cool you are under pressure, if you can't make accurate, consistent contact with a phaser against a target, everything is FUBAR. That's why starting promptly at 2000 the second day after the takeover when the SO team had arrived, Sands put Gorman in charge of getting everyone's marksmanship skills down. That proved harder than it sounds. Most phasers have sensors and aiming mechanism to help sort out long distance firing problems. But in close quarters battle, using those mechanisms could be deadly. If that phaser's systems judged a hostage in front to the terrorist to be the real target, you were in a world of hurt, starting with your captain, who would give you the beating of you life, and a court martial following that with potential to ruin your Starfleet career. This is to say nothing of the cost in life you just took from the victim, his family, and friends. That was probably the worst part of all the punishments you would bear. Since the development of the personal phaser, problems had always existed with it. The singular beam was nice in that it was impossible to not see the direction it was hitting. That was one great thing it had over projectile weapons. But the problem with that is that to make it effective, you had to keep the beam on target for longer than was sometimes tactically reasonable. That problem was partially solved with the development of the Type III phaser rifle. That used a single "bullet" of rectified energy that didn't necessitate keeping aim on target as long as the Type II phaser. But the rifle was big, heavy, and the power settings simply were not needed to rescue hostages. Honestly, how often do you need to blow up a boulder at full damage setting in CQB? So Sands in association with some of his more worthy friends in Starfleet Security Research and Development made a type of phaser more appropriate to the operations of SO: the Mk I Special Operations Light Repeating Phaser Pistol. It was not really a pistol, but the machinery was taken almost straight out of the Type II phaser and put into a heavily modified Type III rifle. It was a little over half a meter long and about a full meter with its butt fully extended. It had two grips. The rear one with the trigger, and the forward one with aiming controls (not any of the AI assistors, but a integral tactical aiming light or a laser target designator) and tricorder controls. On the top of every unit, there is a hard point for any sight deemed tactically necessary (though with CQB this will be seldom employed). Typically the built-in laser designator or tactical aiming-light are used instead given the more intuitive benefit of actually showing where the shot will hit. At the muzzle end, various sensors for electromagnetic and subspace detection are placed to supplement the tricorder, freeing the hands of a user to concentrate on aiming. The real improvement for Special Operations, however, is the new rapid firing capability. The SOLRPP utilizes not one, but five firing chambers with associated emitter crystals to avoid crystal recovery/reload time when expended. The firing chambers are arranged internally in a "Gatling" arrangement around an elliptical axis. The unit also has two over/under tandem subspace transceiver assemblies to help with the increased firing load. In order to save weight and size, the power cell for the unit is not built very large to hold energy for tremendous intensive shots that can detonate solid material or vaporize living material. Another feature is the presence of noise "cancelers" that inversely mimic the wave functions of noises originating from the machinery, effectively rendering the unit silent. The SOLRPP also features a built-in self-destruct device linked to the power cell and prefire chamber overload that can be set to different outputs, such as one only large enough to destroy the internal machinery, or one large enough to act as a last-ditch high-explosive grenade. A piece of equipment this important was not something Charlemagne needed his rescue team to still be learning in the middle of battle, so he and Gorman divided the two crews into pairs to work on their SOLRPP skills. Gorman would work with Seneca, Cicero with Lapel, Holliman with Mirek, and Tarbis with Tacitus. Charlemagne encouraged the pairs to shoot for drinks. At first, the Apocalypse members, who had just gotten the units themselves and had a few weeks of training time with them, easily beat the Shadow Horseman crew. But Gorman and his men were fast learners. In only 18 hours the two crews were neck-and-neck in their skills. Pretty soon, they started using silhouettes with a 10 x 10 cm piece of paper indicating where the hit had to be placed to count. God help the poor bastard that missed the shot. Otherwise he was buying another beer after this mission was over. Negotiations were actually beginning to make progress. Yojum was lowering his demands. Now he was demanding, almost pleading, that the shuttle fly-bys with their artillery bombardments, underground drilling, and audio barrage be stopped if any compromise were to be accomplished. Bayliss, turning up the heat, said if anything was to be done, a medical team had to be allowed to see the hostages and assess their condition. Yojum flat-out refused, saying it was unacceptable to let Starfleet have free reign in the facility they had so proudly taken for the Founders. Bayliss said he would give them a few hours to think about it, but that in the meantime, he was going to turn up the volume. The Vorta, accidentally releasing his true emotional state, let out a groan, which Bayliss heard as he left the building. Charlemagne could not have been happier with the report. Conditions were near optimal for a strike. It had been four days since the takeover and the opposition was beginning to wear thin. The Jem Hadar no doubt were beginning to run out of white. It was doubtful the Vorta anticipated a siege this long, so chances were he didn't have a large load. The weather was cool and clear at night. It was time to start turning up the heat. The shuttles began flying closer to the embassy, with some making approach and retreat flights to make it look as if there was a team coming onto the roof that aborted. The first few times they did it, shots were fired; one was hit seriously, though not fatally, and would have to be taken out of the game. But the more times they did it, the less attention the Jem Hadar paid to them, thinking they probably would not amount to anything. "God, I love Pavlovian conditioning!" exclaimed Charlemagne. Unfortunately, not everything went well. The hacking into the security cameras was eventually eliminated when one of the Cardassians realized they could be seen. He cut the power to the cameras and everything went black. But the damage was done. Hwl and Allenby had been able to count a minimum of twenty-two Jem Hadar; perhaps as many as twenty-five. There was now a know number of Cardassians: five or six technical specialists that had been deployed to help with the original extraction. Better still, they knew it was not one Vorta there, but two. He was more an adjunct or first officer to the head. The hostages were being kept in the ambassador's residence originally. They would be moved now that their location was known. The question was where. "If you had to place a hostage, where would you put them?" Gorman asked the crews. "Given the desperate nature of these people, I'd say they aren't too keen on keeping them alive. They'll put them wherever they'll get hurt and cause us the most inconvenience." Sands replied. "Bottom floor?" asked Lapel. "No. The sound sensors haven't heard anything that would be hostages. They'll keep them on the second floor. Makes for an easier time getting them to a shuttle if they try to make a safe getaway." Holliman answered. Seneca then made the proposition. "I think they know we're coming. Therefore, they want to keep us out. What better way than to put the hostages in out path." Tacitus followed, "That would make sense. It also raises the probability that we could shoot a hostage." "Agreed. My guess is that they'll keep the ambassador in his residence. Easier to interrogate him and pump him for information there. They'll keep the Staff officer there as well. I?d be willing to bet they think Starfleet Security's going to be the point. What better way to prepare than to ask the person who's supposed to know your opposition's tactics. Little do they know the big boys are in town and out for blood!" said Charlemagne. Charlemagne quieted down as everyone chuckled and was lost in thought for a minute. All eyes were on him as he came up with his solution. He pushed a button on the LCARS holodisplay, and a schematic appeared with all tactically relevant information. It looked quite cluttered, but like a master general plotting his lines of attack, Charlemagne brought order to the chaos of the raw intelligence. "OK, the second floor is in the layout of a Greek cross, the halls being the arms. In the center is the security station. We control that, we contain movement on the floor. On the east and west ends are the staircases to the first floor and roof. From the security station we can control those as well. It's a clear shot into them. "Chances are the hostages will be placed in our way in the halls, so let's watch what we're pointing at. There's a chance there'll be hostages in the other rooms. They may be booby-trapped also. Cicero, Lapel, make sure to bring some EOD tools with you. We may need them. We'll have a heavier equipped team waiting outside we'll bring in after the fight, but until then, you two are all we have to keep this place or anyone else from blowing up." "One possible place some of them will be is the communications center. Based on what Lt Cmdr Bayliss has told me, they're pretty desperate for guidance from their Founders. "Now I think we all know the Vorta aren't about to let an opportunity like this go to waste, so there should be some in the Starfleet Intelligence office, probably in the mainframe trying to break into it the databanks. I've talked with one of their computer guys and they tell me that they might have gotten in, but with the equipment available, most likely not. So another target will be the core vault. "The diplomatic Corps offices they probably won't care much for. The really valuable information is in Starfleet Intelligence. The personal residence shouldn't be much of a concern. But just in case, we'll send one person in to check rooms. After that, if everything's clear, that person will check the Diplomatic Corp's offices. "Allenby, Hwl, what are the Jem Hadar on the roof like?" Allenby answered, "Still a little frosty, but they're getting tired from lack of white. We think they may be rationing it. In the event of battle, they just give themselves a near overdose and they perk up again; they're getting tired without it. We also have their sentry times down." "Good. Then we'll attack at the end of the graveyard shift. "OK, we have a plan of how they're acting and thinking. Now let's do some CQB planning." The plan was relatively simple. After inserting on the roof, they would engage their cloaks when out of site of onlookers. They would dispatch any opposition in the stairwells down to the second floor, and then quietly enter the hallway. Two people would cover the communications room. One person would enter the residences and look for anyone there, then join with the main assault on the ambassador's residence. Two people would turn the corner south past and sentries at the probable security station and get down to Starfleet Intelligence. If they could get inside, they would try to get even closer to the computer mainframe. One person would cover the Diplomatic Corp's north entrance (the communication room team could over the southern entrance from where they were). One person would stay at the security station to cut off reinforcements coming from the first floor. The person guarding the main diplomatic entrance could reinforce the security station if necessary. The last two people would enter the ambassador's residence and rescue whoever was in there. The one problem with this plan was that if they were detected while getting into position, they would probably lose hostages. But in all honesty, options were running out. Bayliss still could not get any concessions from Yojum. But now, the Vorta were getting belligerent. The effects of the psy-ops had moved beyond annoying to genuinely painful. Now Yojum said that for every twelve hours he was not allowed to communicate with his superiors, he would execute a hostage. Charlemagne had to start his full dress rehearsals now. He would strike tonight. The first time it wasn't too bad. But there were definite problems to solve. The crew off the Shadow Horseman was still having problems properly clearing rooms. So Gorman took the bold step of splitting the teams up again. This time, however, they would not have partners from their crew, but from the other crew. Using a mixed approach, the problem was almost completely solved. Three rehearsals later, they had the routine down flat. No matter who the pair up were, no matter what their assignment was, anybody could do any part of the plan without thinking. By this point, five days later, people two kilometers away from the embassy were complaining of motion sickness at night, lack of sleep from all the search lights, and every building within 100 meters of the embassy had been completely demolished from the aerial bombardment. "It looks like a war zone!" complained Viers. "That's because it is." Seneca would matter-of-factly reply. The hour approached. Charlemagne and Gorman started inspecting all the gear themselves. Their crews knew they were responsible for their own personal gear, but with Rear Admiral Viers (with emphasis on the "Rear" Charlemagne always said) looking on, if they screwed up, it was their heads on a plate. The load out was very complete. Each person wore a dark navy blue night-suit with balaclava. It contained thermal insulation to prevent infrared detection that the cloaking device would not conceal. It was fire resistant and had sensor absorbent materials in case the cloak didn't work. They may be visible to the naked eye, but sensors would have a tougher time with them. But most importantly the night-suits contained the grid network for the cloaking device. To go along with that, the optical relay cloak readout receiver was worn to facilitate sight of fellow team members. Night vision was installed on a detachable module stowed in an arm pocket. A tricorder was carried by all. Some members carried more specialized ones. Sands and Tarbis, as their crews' medical officers, had medical sensor arrays on theirs, whereas Cicero, the EOD specialist and Lapel, an engineer by trade, had computer and mechanical sensors on their to help defuse any explosives or pick electronic locks. Stun grenades were also carried. Putting those into a room would make anyone in there so disorientated they would not think straight for an hour. A 500 decibel and 200 kilocandela burst would do that to pretty much anyone, wouldn't it? A first aid kit was carried by Sands and Tarbis for anyone wounded. Lapel and Cicero carried explosive C4 foam that could be inserted into door jam and blow them from the hinges. To exit the shuttle a fastrope harness and padded gloves were worn. A knife with a self- contained garrotte was carried by all. A Type II phaser in a holster along with each member's SOLRPP were the weapons of choice. Some of the more exotic equipment was a new type of communicator that would come in handy. It was a mask that one wore over their mouth that muffled sound coming out of it. Now members could communicate by sound more (although actually being next to a Jem Hadar Tacitus didn't recommend yelling into the comm.) The biggest improvement was the new Thermodynamic Vest. It used a first layer of ultra- refined fushigi-no-umi crystals to "catch" phaser fire and direct it around the wearer into another layer that put into a continuous loop where the energy would be dissipated as heat. It was a life- saving improvement that might not keep a soldier fighting after being shot more than once of twice, but it could keep him alive to fight another day. It was exceedingly expensive, and would probably never be seen outside SO, but by those blessed to use it, they were very thankful for its development. 0330. Yojum would execute a hostage in three hours if he was not allowed to get communications. Charlemagne had ordered the shuttles to start flying even closer now, only 15 meters above the embassy. He also ordered them to start flying louder. By this point sonic booms were heard all over the city. The underground drillers approached closer to the building to make the Jem Hadar even more paranoid about what was happening. The searchlights were sweeping all over the building. The siege was drawing to final cataclysmic end. Snipers had taken hidden positions around a kilometer away; if the opportunity presented itself, they would lessen the load of the rescue a bit. A Starfleet Security team of 100 men and women was ready as soon as the team began their assault to speed into the first floor with their armored personnel carriers and hold the Jem Hadar down there from getting back up stairs. The explosives and ordinance disposal unit was at hot standby. The Jem Hadar on the roof had been wearily trying to keep track of all the activity all night, and were utterly exhausted. Their next shift change was at 0500. Soon their thoughts would lie on getting inside out of the inhospitable environment. Charlemagne came to everyone after replicating a small pill. He handed one to each. "Take this now." "What is it?" asked Tarbis. "Clozapine." "An anti-psychotic drug?" "What are we captain? Are you saying we're all psychopaths or something?" remarked Lapel. No one was especially trustful of the little white pill. "Well, since you asked, I'll tell you. You're not taking it for its therapeutic effects to fight schizophrenia. You're taking it for a side effect. It's an anti-emetic agent." "A what?" asked Mirek. "It means it'll keep you from vomiting. I won't make you eat it, but if you don't, you should know my good pilot Mr Hwl here will first get you to puke whatever's left of those lovely dinners you ate several hours ago in his flight; then you'll get onto the roof, and probably be writhing in the pain of dry heaves from all that nice bass that's directed at you on the building. And then our nice plan that we've spent hours getting right will be all for nought because I'm missing a very needed man. Now tell me, which would you prefer?" Everyone looked incredulously at Sands for a moment, but then quickly swallowed it; none of them even asked for water. 0340. The shuttle piloted by Hwl approached the compound in a bumpy, ground following flight that made everyone almost sick to their stomach. Everyone was thankful for the drug. Allenby was monitoring everything from the mobile command center. "OK, thirty seconds! Look sharp!" yelled Charlemagne. Everyone was barely identifiable. The dim red-indigo light had come on to preserve their night vision. Tension in the small shuttle was building. Holliman and Tacitus would be first out. They were so excited they were rocking their bodies with an adrenaline rush. The outside the window Hwl could see the other shuttles performing flybys in an attempt to draw fire away from him so he could get them down on the ground safely. The rooftop beckoned. Closer. Closer. Closer. And then, quite roughly, the shuttle hovered in mid-air, and the ramp opened with the ropes to descend following. "Go! Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!" The team flung themselves onto the roof in what was less rapelling but more a controlled fall. Their gloves smoked from the friction. All around them they could hear phaser bolts from the snipers taking out the sentries. Spotlights come from every direction from two kilometers away. But they didn't let the incredible radiance of the scene stop them. They had rehearsed no fewer than half a dozen times and were to manic to let anything stop them. Cicero went to the west side stair well entrance, injected C4 into the lock, placed a sonic container to minimize the noise, and blew it apart. Holliman and Mirek scrambled through at point, Charlemagne, Cicero, and Lapel following. The rest of the team covered their rear in case any other Jem Hadar had not been picked up. Everyone activated their cloaks and ORCRs as they entered. As quietly as they could, Holliman killed a suspicious Jem Hadar with his garrotte; Mirek scrambled down another level and shot another Jem Hadar there. Both gave Charlemagne thumbs up. Gorman and rear security gave thumbs up. Then everyone got into a single file line behind Charlemagne and Holliman. Each put his hand on the forward man's shoulder to let him know someone was behind him. It was a seemingly simple thing to do, even stupid looking; but in CQB, if you didn't know where the man behind you was, it could mean your death when you move to the wrong direction and you get shot in the back. Holliman pulled out a fiber-optic camera head, and connected it to his personal LCARS readout. An uplink was given to Charlemagne, who would assess the situation. To put it lightly, things would be complicated, but not impossible. From what the two could see, there was a Jem Hadar half way down the hall. Behind him, and in front of the security station, were three hostages lined up as living shields. They were asleep fortunately; best case, they would stay asleep while they got into position and not get in their path. They could also see that the Jem Hadar and two Cardassians at the security station were talking to someone down each perpendicular hall. At least they now knew there were targets down there. To the left was the communications room. The door opened briefly, and they could hear on the directional microphone that they were attempting to break through the jamming over the embassy. Charlemagne motioned to Holliman to real it in. Over the muffling mask comm he whispered, "Listen up!" With a few simple motions, he assigned Lapel and Tarbis to the communications room, Seneca to the residence, Holliman and Mirek to the Starfleet Intelligence office, Gorman to the security station with Tacitus in backup guarding the Diplomatic Corps entrance, and Cicero would go with Charlemagne to the ambassador's residence where they would rescue anyone there. Everyone motioned they understood. The trick now was getting past the closed door without the Jem Hadar thinking it was someone coming through. Cicero opened an access panel and hooked a portable uplink to it; Allenby then hacked into and made it look like a programing error made the door open. The Jem Hadar looked at each other suspiciously and, with weapons drawn, approached the door, checking for anything out of order. The team silently strode past them to their objectives in sixty seconds. When everyone was in position, Gorman got thumbs up from each team and relayed to Charlemagne. The plan had stayed intact so far. Now it was time for action, and hope all their preparations would reduce what Clauszwitz called "friction". Charlemagne opened a comm channel, and seeing everyone ready, gave the word: "GO!" Lapel and Tarbis kicked the door open to the communications room. Lapel cognated faster than he had ever thought possible: "Charlemagne-says-Go--kick-door-open--close-eyes--detonate- stun-grenade--Boom!--open-eyes--two-individuals-in-front--Starfleet-uniforms--hostages--Jem- Hadar-behind--Acquire-Fire--One-individual-behind--ears-indicate-Vorta--Acquire-Fire." Lapel confirmed, "CLEAR!" Tarbis thought, "Charlemagne-says-Go--follow-Lapel--close-eyes--Boom!--open-eyes--two- individuals-in-front--Starfleet-uniforms--hostages--Jem-Hadar-behind--Lapel-got-him--two- Cardassians--Acquire-Fire--move-gun-second-target--Acquire-Fire." Tarbis also confirmed, "CLEAR!" Holliman and Mirek had a very difficult assignment. First, before the assault began they injected C4 foam around the entire door frame. After detonating it when Charlemagne said Go, the whole floor shook with the force of the explosion. No one was hurt, but everyone's ears were going to hurt a bit after this was over. Holliman was first in: "Move-into-ID-room--inject-C4--line-up-next- to-door--Mirek-motions-go--detonate--move-into-reception-room--kick-door-to-offices-open--move- down-hall--move-away-from-wall-to-maximize-field-of-fire--turn-around-left-corner--mainframe- door-closed--inject-C4--Mirek-motions-go--detonate--move-in--two-Cardassians-in-front--Acquire- Fire--move-gun-second-target--Acquire-Fire." Holliman confirmed, "CLEAR!" Mirek thought: "Charlemagne-says-Go--follow-Holliman--keep-behind--not-too-close--don't- run-over-him--get-to-side--injecting-C4--hold-ears--follow-Holliman--go-down-hall--cover- perpendicular-field-of-fire--Holliman-going-round-corner--cover-behind--follow-him-into-mainframe- -Holliman-got-two--Starfleet-uniform-with-phaser-to-head--held-by-individual-with-ears-indicating- Vorta--Acquire-Fire!" Mirek stated, "CLEAR!" Tacitus got into position facing south: "Charlemagne-says-Go--clear--close-eyes-Boom!-- open-eyes--take-out-near-Cardassian--Acquire-Fire--move-gun-second-target--Acquire-F-" As he released his phaser bolt, Tacitus was pushed back by what felt like a jackhammer punching him in the chest. He was thrown off his feet against the wall and slumped to near unconsciousness. Gorman had gotten into position facing the security station facing south as well; he already had his four Jem Hadar targets picked out with Tacitus covering the two Cardassians: "Charlemagne- says-Go--close-eyes--detonate-stun-grenade--Boom!--open-eyes--get-first-target--Acquire-Fire-- move-gun-to-second-target--Acquire-Fire--move-gun-to-third-target--Acquire-Fire--fourth-target- sees-me--has-phaser--shot-somewhere-else-already--Acquire-Fire!" A bit shaken at his close call, but seeing no one else, he yelled "CLEAR!" He looked around to find Tacitus. The last Jem Hadar had shot someone and he feared he had gotten Tacitus. Looking behind him he saw the Klingon clutching his chest in pain, but the thermodynamic vest had held off the phaser shot. It had saved his life. Charlemagne and Cicero had probably the hardest job of all: negotiate the maze of the ambassador's residence. By the time they got into position, they knew someone was in there because there were two Jem Hadar guarding the door. Charlemagne took out one as Cicero took out the other: "Say-GO--Acquire-Fire--kick-door-open--move-in--Cicero's-behind--check-left-corner--move- to-next-door--has-booby-trap--no-time--shoot-door--worked!--move-through--Cicero's-behind-- check-left-corner--kick-door-open--move-in--large-room--scan-quick--check-left-corner--move-to- door--booby-trapped--no-time--shoot-door--move-in-Cicero's-behind--two-Jem-Hadar--Acquire- Fire--other-shot-by-Cicero--move-to-next-room--Cicero's-behind--go-left--three-people--first-has- Starfleet-uniform--second's-ambassador--Jem-Hadar-has-phaser--Acquire-Fire!" Charlemagne asserted, "CLEAR!" Cicero first had to take out the second Jem Hadar, then stay behind Sands to cover their rear and cover their right side with them going left constantly: "Charlemagne-says-Go--Acquire-Fire-- keep-behind-Charlemagne--he's-shooting-door--move-to-side--keep-physical-contact-with-him-to- let-him-know-you're-there--move-into-next-room--check-right-side--follow-him--move-in-next- room--scan-right-side--shooting-door-again--move-in-next-room--first-Jem-Hadar-shot--Acquire- second-Fire--scan-bathroom--stay-behind-Charlemagne--move-in-next-room--check-right--Jem- Hadar--Acquire-Fire--move-to-next-bathroom--scan-nothing." Cicero, satisfied they were in the clear, confirmed, "CLEAR!" Seneca entered the residences: "Charlemagne-says-Go--kick-door-open--scan--nothing-- check-first-room--nothing--second-room--nothing--turn-right-down-hall--check-corners--third- residence--nothing--check-last-door--locked-kick-open--SHIT!" Seneca froze as he came face to face with a bomb that looked like it contained a small amount of trilithium. The clock on it said two and a half minutes to go. "Must have been activated by the Jem Hadar when we barged through. Crap! Seneca to Lapel or Cicero! We've got a bomb here!" Charlemagne heard the request and said, "Cicero, get to Seneca, everyone else, check around for sleepers! Sands to outer security. We're clear in here, how're you doing down there?" He was answered by Allenby who said the Jem Hadar downstairs were contained, though not taken by Starfleet Security, but that the ground forces should be up in thirty to sixty seconds. Reinforcements by shuttle were one minute away. "No, Allenby! Do not have them land! I repeat, do not have them land! Begin pulling back Security on the ground! We have a bomb. Repeat, we have a bomb! No time for EOD! We'll handle it ourselves! Out! Gorman, cover the west exit; Mirek, stay in Intelligence, Holliman, cover east stairwell. I'm with the ambassador and staff officer in here with first aid." Holliman replied, "You got it!" Gorman came on the comm, "Tacitus is wounded!" Tarbis replied, "I'm on my way. Hostages are fine here. I'm moving them to the ambassador's residence!" Cicero was beat to the residences by Lapel who wasn't needed in communications; Tarbis was busy dragging a hostage out of communications. The two engineers looked at the bomb and began disassembling it. Lapel said, "We won't be able to stop it, but we might be able to contain it. Cicero?" "Agreed. Get the trilithium pack out and we can keep this from nuking the city." "Sounds good. Let's very carefully get this processor out of the way." Cicero, the larger of the two, picked up the processor with two arms, while not trying to pull out any of the exceedingly short wires meant to make disassembly more difficult. He could not get his head all the way down under it, but he kept his antennae probing under the processor to pick up any vibration on it that might signal something was about to break. While he was straining his muscles trying to keep it steady, Lapel's nimble little fingers were plucking out the screws to the spherical trilithium package. In ten seconds he had them out. "OK, clear!" "Cicero to team, clear everyone into the ambassador's residence! Repeat, get everyone into the ambassador's!" Everyone started sprinting to the farthest corner of the building. The hostages and the wounded Tacitus were piled up in the corner with the team on top to help deflect any blast that might get through the building. With twenty seconds to spare, Charlemagne gave the final command. "Charlemagne to all rescue forces: pull away from the building! I say again: fall back and take cover!" And as he said the final words, the floor buckled under the shock of the bomb's explosion. Everyone was thrown several centimeters in the air as the wave passed under them. With dust falling from the ceiling, everyone looked up to a still intact building. Charlemagne looked at Gorman. "We did it, Shawn." Gorman gave him a pat on the back. "Good job, Captain." Charlemagne smiled. A operation that went almost text book perfect. He savored the taste while it lasted. "Sands to command center. We're alright in here! Allenby, how's it looking?" "Well, sir, you sure gave us a scare! It seems almost a full third of the building went, but if you're fine, everything's cool with me!" "OK, send medics for the hostages." Gorman took over while Sands looked over his tactical officer. "Allenby, you and Hwl start getting our stuff together. Time to go home." "Gladly!" Sands and Gorman walked out of the rubble afterwards to cheers from Starfleet Security and the local authorities. Their team had personally killed 24 Jem Hadar, 6 Cardassians, and 2 Vorta. Though the town's life had been hell for the past week, with the hostages back and the Dominion defeated in a place no one would stand their presence, everyone felt it was worth it. The two were walking past the command center when Viers came out to them. "You! Sands! How dare you so wantonly destroy Federation facilities like that! The EOD team could have saved a building representing such a valuable asset to the Federation when we both know what kind of a war is draining us! I'm placing you under arrest, and I'm going to file an official complaint concerning this matter, that in addition a complaint about your egregious lack of decorum, your lack of respect for the people of this planet that you've singlehandedly waged war on with your supposedly effective psy-ops, and your insistence that I, the officially designated observer here, not be consulted in decisions concerning major Starfleet operational procedures with hostages' live at stake!" Sands rolled his eyes at Gorman. "I'll have you know we got the job done. I came here to kick ass and take names. And I did both. My conduct was completely in line given the tactical and strategic situation of Starfleet and the Federation. We rescued a valuable officer and ambassador in addition to nine others. And with the Dominion being able to flex its muscles in this sector, I think we were fully justified in our zealousness that they were not welcome here, nor will they conquer this sector! Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going now." She tried to pull the vest of his CQB suit and restrain him there for arresting, but Sands and Gorman both knew what had to be done. Charlemagne grabbed her by the collar, and gave her a punch that made her fly a meter off the ground into the mud. She was knocked unconscious. "Finally!" he thought. "Let's get out of here, Sands." Several days later, Sands was debriefed by Greer in Reading, England. "You know, David, you broke her jaw in three places." "Well, I'm really sorry." "Really? I'd think you were happy knowing that." "Well, Admiral, you know I'm a perfectionist, and I was going for four fractures in her jaw. Frankly, I think it was shitty punch, and I could have done better!" The two roared in laughter. They knew a report would probably go on his record, but neither cared. His performance was too good for any critical report to be taken seriously. Sands, and the rest of the team would be decorated for this, but he really didn't care. He'd accept it because those medals some people care about when assessing blame or currying favor. They could come in handy one day. But what he really cared about was protecting those who could not themselves. That was what really drove him to do the job: CARITAS.