Star Trek: Athena
Unholy Alliance
by Chris Robato
(crobato@kuentos.guam.net)

The greatest enemy, is the one within and corrupts us all.

The greatest joy a young officer of Star Fleet can ever experience is to be given command of their first starship, a joy that the new Captain Randall Garret is about to receive. Expecting a small modest starship as a beginning point for an ambitious career, what Garret got instead was something he in his wildest dreams never hoped for. A mysterious prototype ship, technically known as the Prometheus class Refit "A", and by its name the USS Athena.

But there was more about the Athena than a sleek ship with the latest technology that lay claim to the fastest, most powerful starship of the Federation. The most advanced bioneural network and holoemitters lay basis to the GH1 or General Hologram One, her interface ego a gorgeous hologram by the name of Athena.

What may be the greatest honor for a young officer may turn out to be in reality, his greatest curse. For the Athena is a living ship packing a beautiful hologram with an attitude.

As Garret tries to tame the beauty in the beast, he has to come to grips with Athena's original dark purpose. Her creators---a secretive organization known as the Section had planned Athena to be a stealth intruder that could turn the tide in a secret undeclared war, a plan that turned upside down with Athena's sentience and attitudes.

It is not going to be an easy job being the captain of the USS Athena.

Star Trek Athena The Gate (Episode 2)
A secret reconnaissance mission reveals a Borg colony with a massive Transwarp Gate the key to a massive Borg invasion from the Delta Quadrant. It is urgent that the Gate should be destroyed as soon as possible, but the Section has other plans.

Star Trek Athena Prophecy (Episode 3)
The Borg hatches the supreme plan of assimilation, and a mysterious ship from the future returns to stop it.

Star Trek Athena-Stream of Angels (Episode 4)
An experiment with quantum slipstream drives turned awry, and the Athena finds herself hurtled into a strange new universe.

With the stroke of her strong leans arms, she sliced through the water with the purpose of a shark. Whatever the things that evolution on this planet made to look like fish, they all swam away at her presence.

She set her foot on the silt and pushed her way breaking the water's surface like a dolphin. As she got closer to shore, her feet searched their footing on the silt. As the cool saline water streamed down her body, she tightened her bikini and shook her head to get water off from her short scraggy brunette hair. She brushed her forehead to clear the bangs of from it. There she felt the hard V shapped pattern triangular scale armor embedded in her forehead, her connection to an ancient heritage of a great hunter and warrior alien race. The slit pupils in her catlike eyes opened wider to grasp and scan more of her environment, catching every moment of creatures that looked like fish and bird, and the lapping of the waves against the beach. Her eyes caught something moving under the surface of the water. She unsheathed the claws on the back of her hand, and with a sudden stroke, there were fish impaled on the point of her claws, struggling to escape till their body stopped squirming. She had a temptation to put the fresh creature into her mouth, but there was no telling what germs and parasites it would contain. With regret, she threw the corpse back into the water.

She looked around her, the world with all its natural beauty. This was a beautiful M class planet with a pre industrial humanoid civilization, mostly hunting nomads who were just learning how to settle and farm. She was careful not to get in contact with the natives, so she chose a small island in the ocean to vacation.

It never was easy being Tonya Khidan, Starfleet Section Commander, and alien half breed. She remembered her mother, a beautiful woman who carried the noble name of the Domain of Khidan, a proud name in the annals of the Khosk. The Khosk themselves were a feared and hardy race. They adapted from a world full of hunters and predators, where their ancestors triumphed over all these species. Unlike the Klingons and the Romulans, they never had the chance the resources in their home system to build large fleets to carve empires with. Instead, they sent packs of smaller ships to hunt and prey on ships passing by. Among the predators in the stars, the name Khidan stood strong. One among them, Asak Khidan, hunted and preyed over 300 ships before he met his untimely end in the hands of a Federation starship a hundred years ago. It was indeed fool hardy even for one as brave as one with the blood of the Khosk and the name of Khidan to take on a Federation Constitution class cruiser with a mere Khidan Predator ship. Even a pack of Predators could not win over a Constitution class.

That was the first time they met a species more advanced than themselves. But it won't be the last. Nothing intrigued them more when a Klingon exploratory force came to the Khosk home system. The Klingons were tough and strong, and despite their talk of honor, they were not above doing the most devious things. But all that didn't matter. They made excellent prey. The Khosk ran faster, jumped higher and the talons from the back of the hands were more than match to the daggers and bath'leths they carried. They could see and smell the Klingons before the Klingons could see them. When the Klingons landed an invasion force, the Khosk hunted them down. It didn't feel like they were defending their world, no, it felt like the gods have handed them with a load of prey.

As the Khosk devoured their Klingon prey, the gods left with a bonus Klingon ships and technology. They mastered these technologies, and assimilated the knowledge into their own ships. While at first, they made copy cats of the Bird of Preys, eventually, they learned to come up with their own designs. The Khosk Raptors menaced three whole sectors, and one of them, Garan Khidan, her grandfather, tallied over two hundred vessels, before his Raptor itself fell prey against a trio of B'rels.

Then the Cardassians came, ruthless and oppressive as the reptiles they were. Their overwhelming military machine ran over the feudalistic and tribal Khosh hunter-warrior society with characteristic efficiency. Their organized formations of Galors and Keldons mounted an impenetrable wall against the wolfpacks of Raptors. With their characteristic efficiency, they blew away the Khosh stellar forces out of existence in just one day. For the first time since they took to the stars, the proud Khosh fell to the heel of foreign domination and oppression, the riches of their cities and culture looted, their women raped, their children raised as slaves.

But the Federation returned once again. A Federation task force defeated the Cardassian forces in a battle around the sun the Federation called Khosk Stellaris. Seeing an obvious conclusion to the battle, and wishing to avoid severe losses in ground troops, the Cardassians offered to withdraw their troops, to fight another day, in a more defensible position.

It was the first time humans descended into the home world of the Khosk. The Khosk gawked at the seemingly soft, slow, weak, defenseless, claw less, poor sighted primates with an inferior sense of smell. But the Federation humans came as liberators. They did the thing the proud Khosk failed to do beat the reptile Cardassians. To see that inferior beings could do this, bit the pride of the Khosk.

But they never fully gave back the freedom of the Khosk either. They made the Khosk system a military protectorate. They built bases, they put ships around in orbit. The Cardassians thought the once fearless Khosk to be afraid, and afraid of the Cardassians, the Khosk remained. They were willing to let the Federation build bases and station ships in orbit. They were scared the Cardassians would return.

The Cardassians have killed their fathers, sons, brothers, husbands and lovers. They left their cities, their economy, their glory, their pride, in ruins. When the Federation came, women and children begged in the streets, begged at the inferior primates for food.

The palace of the Duchy of the Khidan Domain burned to ashes, as Gera Khidan, her mother, left for the streets to survive. That was when Gera met Tonya's father, a young captain of an alien starship. For an ape, he was strong, he was secure, he was dashing. He found her in the streets, begging, and found her tantalizing, exotic as a fine representative of Khosh women. She had a lithe figure, movements with catlike grace, fine cheekbones that gave an air of nobility. He fell for her, as she with him, though her mother never made it clear to Tonya whether it was for mutual dependence between a hungry huntress and a bored officer, plain lust, or simply, pure love. One thing led to another, and Gera became pregnant with Tonya. It would be embarrassing for a starfleet officer and captain to be involved in such an affair, and he did his best to hide Gera and his love child.

The winds of war shifted again, and her father left them, although he promised to get them back. While he roamed around the stars, he pulled strings to get things for Gera and Tonya, and he knew enough Federation officers to do him some favors. They were still destitute, but at least they could rise from a hand to mouth, day to day existence, as the Federation tried to rebuild Khosk society with a puppet government.

When growing up, they laughed at her as the ape child. Even as the Federation portrayed themselves as saviors, the Khosk resented them as benevolent occupiers, apes who have overstayed their presence too long. The Khosk children took that upon her so many times she would huddle alone, hiding from the bullies, crying. The Federation officers saw her only as a love child, a bastard, and were quick to call her that name, and another name, 'bitch'. She eventually knew the meaning of these words, as her knowledge of pidgin English expanded just from observing the Federation personnel who filled the streets in their shore leave.

She had cried enough, and one day, she stopped crying. Even with half ape in her blood, she fought harder than the hardest Khosk hunter. Day and night she would go out into the woods, to do what a Khosk does best, to hunt. She would bring fresh food to her mother and it brought her pride to be able to support herself. Unlike the other hunters, she only hunted alone, as no one would accept an ape's child with their hunting pack.

Then one day, her mother told her bad news. Her father will not return. There was one reason for that. The Federation had sold them out. They have given the home world back to the Cardassians. No, she can never accept the reptiles coming back to take everything again, to destroy their heritage, to rape the women and force the children to slaves. She will join some human colonists to fight the reptiles, the ones who call themselves Maquis. She said she did this for Tonya, so that her child will always be a free being. She also said good bye.

That was the last she saw of her mother, as she entered the hatch of a Maquis Raider and took to the sky. Then a human colonist leaving the planet took her into his wing, and left the Khosk home world.

In a Federation starbase, where Starfleet personnel processed the refugees, a man came to her. He was the captain of the Federation starship, who had left them long ago, and promised to come back but never did. He took her to his wing like a parent finally made to live up to his duties.

It was unusual for the next few years of her life to live in a starship with its amazingly closed confines, and yet with the ability to explore the universe like she has never seen before. Aboard the ship, she saw other aliens for the first time, and realized just how big and diverse the universe was. She could not hunt like before, but for that activity, she found that the holodeck afforded her some practice.With her father, she discovered her 'ape' side, a race that relied on intelligence and logic to deal with most of their problems, and not with the slice of a hand talon, or the point of a hunting spear. She learned how to read and write the ape language, till she could speak, talk and write like any one of them. She learned mathematics; she learned science; she learned the rules that governed the universe. Most of all, she learned the ways of Man.

She was at the brink of womanhood when her stint with her father ended. There was only one place where a girl of her talents could spread her wings further. She had heard her father talked about this school, and she dreamed of joining it , striving hard in her studies to attain the marks to reach this prestigious school. It was a school where her father graduated, and he would often talk about in memories with a big smile. He would be proud for her to join too. It was one of the few things they agreed on.

One day, the New Orleans class starship she made her home stopped on a blue globe. This was the world she could call her second home world, the world her father came from. It was Earth, and she stared at the gates of the school she would enter---Starfleet Academy.

The tales her father told her lived up to her expectations. The Academy was a great place of learning and universal fraternity. Here, no one teased and bullied her for being an ape. Aside from her forehead, her eyes and talons, she looked like any of them, and aliens among other worlds felt at home. Even with the difficult tests, she was happy. She remembered her years in the Academy as one that will bring her the most smiles. No longer isolated, she made the real friends for the first time in her life, and even found a short term puppy love.

She graduated top of her class, and with the Dominion War in full swing, Starfleet assigned her on the USS Fearless, one of the new Defiant escorts as a tactical and security officer. But with Starfleet losing hundreds of ships and thousands of personnel every week, the war severely strained reserves of officers. The veteran and the experienced were a quickly dying breed. One day, the First officer of the Fearless left to take over his new ship command as a captain, and it didn't matter how young she was, the Captain made her the new First officer. It seemed prophetic.

Then one day, in a battle with a Jem'Hadar fleet, Jem'Hadar marines boarded the Fearless right in the bridge itself. The Captain never stood a chance; the Jem'Hadar cut him down immediately where he stood. It was back in her home world where she last unsheathed her talons in anger. With a swipe, she ripped out the throat of one Jem'Hadar boarding marine before he could even react. By the time the bridge crew were able to subdue the rest of the marines, she had already plunged her talons into the heart of another Jem'Hadar. She took command of the ship. For the next four months, she served as the acting captain of the Fearless in non stop front line action. The drought of Starfleet officers were so severe that not only they could never supply the Fearless with a new captain during that time, but they were unable to replace some other officers she gradually lost. Tonya found herself working double duty to the edge of her endurance.

But it was a job she relished. There was a sense of revenge in it. There she was, commanding a ship far more powerful than her own blood brethren and ancestors could dream, hunting down the Cardassian reptiles, and the new equally repulsive reptiles, the Jem'Hadar. The Fearless would frequently operate in missions way behind enemy lines, sometimes hunting alone, sometimes hunting with packs of other ships like Sabres, Steamrunners and other Defiants, against Dominion convoys and whatever hapless prey she could set her eyes upon. The war warmed her Khosk blood and killer instinct. This was much like the sole hunts in the forest, but this time, it took place in the forest of the stars, and the prey were not four legged edible creatures, but entire ships, ships manned with the reptilian oppressors of the Khosk. She satisfied her bloodlust in the fire of every ship she destroyed. If only her grandfather and honorable ancestors of the bloodline of Khidan could see her now, hunting her enemies, wreaking havoc among the stars. Among the stars, in the ship, fighting a common enemy, she felt closer to her lost mother. She knew her mother was somewhere there in the darkness, where a million points of light sparkled. She dreamt that one day, in the scans of this Defiant class Fearless, she would see a Maquis Raider, and in that Raider, her mother. Her father was there too, somewhere, but since the Academy, suddenly he disappeared, just like he left her and her mother in their home world. They eventually found a replacement, not only for a Captain but for a First Officer for the Fearless. They said she was tired, she needed to rest, and she had done enough. But she suspected some of the staff were not too comfortable to have someone as young and aggressive as her to be in a position to command a ship. Nor was she political or diplomatic. She was blunt, straight to the point the only way she liked it, and they called her arrogant and undisciplined. They assigned her to a new command, a Sabre class named the USS McKinley and demoted back to a Tactical Officer, invalidating all what the late Captain of the Fearless had done for her, bless his soul. They said she had an attitude problem, and they may be right. It was like putting a cork on a bottle about to pop. Months of hard fought action brought her character and temper to an edge. She couldn't take orders especially silly and trivial ones. The captain of the McKinley had a subtle way to express his male chauvinistic superiority and way to put people on their place by ordering them to do the most silly and trivial things, while ignoring their opinion as they go off in wild goose chases. Suffice to say she had a major temper flare up, but some witnesses charged that she flashed her talons at the captain. She was charged for insubordination, with a permanent mark on her service record.

Suddenly she felt like she was going nowhere, and she did not know where to go. Her career was mortally damaged, directionless, and no captain would take her. She considered long and hard to quit Starfleet and join the mercantile navy. One day, a message came to her from an anonymous source, with a most interesting offer, a job that can suit her talents, her temperament, her need for freedom and her need to wreak vengeance on the reptiles. The next day she found herself working for a shadowy group within Starfleet called the Section.

They didn't hesitate to throw her against the most dangerous of jobs. Her first assignment and command was unusual a Klingon Bird of Prey. The Section had been acquiring a number of old surplus Birds and has been refitting with new equipment and weapons. The missions bring them deep within enemy lines to scout, recon and report, sometimes dropping off or recovering secret agents. At times she would become one herself. As the mission progress, they gave her some unusual craft...

* * *

She stared at the sky, her lithe figure silhouetted against the sun, the cool sea water beading against her smooth skin as they dripped in tiny streams back to the sea. There was a disturbance in the sky, like a mirage, a transparent distortion. Her eyes could catch the slightest movement and disturbances against a background, a Khosk hunter adaptation.

Oh man, she thought. How many times does she have to tell them? Do not disturb her while she takes a break. She's going to be angry.

Her toes bit the soft powdery sand as she reached for her clothes left on the shore. She grabbed her Starfleet communicator, and lambasted her crew. "I told you guys, I'm going to rip any peeping Tom's eyeballs out."

"Sorry Commander," the voice replied in flirty manner. "After all these months, the guys are desperate to see any woman's body even yours. Not implying any disrespect, but you're a great sight for sore eyes."

"I sympathize with your dilemma but please I'm not here for your viewing pleasure," she replied.

"Besides that, we need to get your attention, since you're not answering your communicator," the voice said.

"Okay what is it?" She asked.

"We have a communique from Section HQ," the voice replied. "It is saying that you must return for a new assignment. No hurry though."

"Is that what they want?" She asked while she dried herself with a towel.

"Apparently," the voice replied. "One more thing, our patrols reaffirm that the coast is clear."

"Okay then, de cloak and prepare to beam me up," she ordered as she picked up her clothes and slung them over her shoulder.

Three Jem'Hadar Strike Fighters materialized as she ordered. The lead fighter, a dark and menacing ship, cast its shadow as it hovered over her body standing at the sand, its strong drafts blowing through her hair and clothes. After months of infiltrating deep beneath Dominion territory, she wondered if finally the Section was finally giving her a break, some credit, some thing they owed her bad. Her clothes slung over her shoulder, the dark haired girl began to disappear in a column of sparkles.

Aboard the lead Jem'Hadar strike fighter, Tonya found a corner where she could slip her clothes on. Then she proceeded to the controls in the bridge. Compared to the standard Strike Fighters, the reverse engineered Federation duplicate had some niceties on them. For example, there are hidden benches on the side where the crew could sit down, relax or use as a bunk to sleep. There were no dedicated crew quarters. Everything was spartan. Everyone in the Section going into these missions knew there would not be any luxury. Yet they took pride in that, knowing it would be the test and mark of a true soldier to go through hardship, instead of ships that resemble like cruise liners. Inside the small quarters of the infiltration ships, formality was not as important, as other formal Starfleet protocols. Crew even do not wear the uniforms, often just wearing civilian clothes, so they can blend in among the populations of worlds they infiltrate.

Tonya only put on a Starfleet T-shirt and some shorts. She hanged her uniform pants on a handlebar she welded inside the Strike Fighter's bridge. Without laundry or anything, this was another reason why these crews don't wear their uniforms either. They save them somewhere to keep them spank and tidy, while they wore a variety of more rugged clothing.

Real Jem'Hadar fighters don't have anything to sit on, but her crew brought along a simple low tech remedy---stools with rubber tips. "After you," her lieutenant said, his hands gesturing for her to take over. He took off his control headsets, and handed it to her.

She planted herself on the stool, and slipped on the headset. She adjusted the settings, until she had aligned with her vision.

"The encrypted message tells us we have to rendezvous with another Section ship here. They're recalling you for another mission," her lieutenant said.

"Again, just as I was getting used to you guys," she said.

"How was your swim, Commander?" he asked.

"Excellent, lieutenant," she answered.

"We can see that, the view was excellent from up here," he laughed. She laughed too.

"You don't mind the guys taking pictures and videos of you swimming in your swimsuit," he asked in frank way. "Sometimes we go on a mission for months, without seeing another woman, and there's no holodeck here."

"Frankly, I do," she said. "It's not that I don't mind you guys getting hot all over me. You flatter me. I quite understand that it's difficult for your male urges to be held in check for months, tied up in this ship. But as a Section operative, I do not like leaving a trail like pictures and videos of myself around. Is that clear? Sorry guys, but please delete them. That's an order. But let me say that I respect you for asking me first, instead of hiding it behind my back."

"Understood, Commander," the lieutenant said. "We also want to say only have the highest regard for you."

"My feelings are mutual, lieutenant," she said. "I will all miss you, and I will pray to the Goddess of the Hunt, that she will always watch over you in your journeys and for good hunting always. Now what's the mission coordinates?" She asked.

"I'll send it to your headset display," the lieutenant said.

"Good, let's get on with it," she ordered. A switch in the panel would turn the panel configuration to the more familiar Federation layout, instead of the Jem'Hadar layout. This was one of the better niceties of the reverse engineered Jem'Hadar infiltrators. For years, the Section has been paying a fleet of Ferengi Marauders a sum for any derelict or badly damaged Jem'Hadar, Romulan and Klingon small ship they could find floating dead in space in junk areas or left over from battle areas. The Marauders would take a crippled Strike Fighter, Bird of Prey, or a Romulan scout vessel to a designated spot where a Section ship would rendezvous. The Ferengi gets paid, and the Section tows the ship to a special yard where the crippled ship was rebuilt and refurnished, then used for spy missions. The Section will also pay and barter for any parts they could use to maintain this clandestine fleet.

While the Section found a way to obtain obsolete and surplus Bird of Preys, it was harder to obtain Jem'Hadar ships after the Dominion War. So the yard decided to build counterfeit copies, which will appear exactly like Jem'Hadar in appearance, sensor and energy signatures, right down to the weapons. Often they would use parts salvaged from the battlefields. It's also been known that some of the Ferengi Marauders would attempt and engage the Strike Fighters to damage and disable them, so they will have some goods to sell to the Section.

* * *

Making a mountain out of a molehill was precisely what this Defiant class ship loved to do. And hence it's name. The Captain of the USS Molehill waited patiently in the asteroids. It's a little late for the rendezvous.

"Captain," said the Operations officer. "We're picking up ships de-cloaking right in front of us." "Go into red alert," the Captain ordered.

"Sir, we have identified three ships de-cloaking!" The lieutenant said. " They're Jem'Hadar, sir! No wait, they're sending IFF codes. IFF codes verified. By golly, they're with us, sir!"

"The Jem'Hadar ships you are seeing are either Federation counterfeits, or refurbished ones under our control," the Captain said. "Just remember, they don't officially exist. The things you are seeing now, you never really saw them. Understood?"

"Yessir! I got my amnesia mode activated," the lieutenant affirmed.

"Hail the lead fighter," the Captain ordered.

The face of a beautiful dark haired woman appeared on the screen. She had V shaped scales on her forehead and her catlike pupils betrayed her as a Khosk.

"Commander?" The Captain said. "We have come to pick you up, and we have a replacement for your team."

"Understood, Captain," she said. "Lock on to my communicator and beam me on board."

They beamed her directly to the bridge, where the Captain welcomed her with a handshake. Her uniform seemed shriveled and below the standard for regulatory tidiness, but he could understand what she's been through, facing the lack of conveniences, not to mention the constant dangers of her missions.

"Let me say this," the Captain said, "we welcome you aboard the USS Molehill. We are honored to have a great operative such as you."

"Thank you, Captain," Tonya returned the handshake. "It's nice to be on board a Defiant class ship once again. My first assignment was aboard one of these ships. Maybe you have heard of her, the USS Fearless?"

"Yes, we were briefed with a summary of your impressive record aboard the Fearless," the Captain said.

They transported in her replacement, and as the counterfeit Strike Fighters turned away, the Captain welcomed her to sit on a chair near the Captain's throne. Tonya didn't remember this convenience before in the older Defiant she commanded.

She sat on it politely to satisfy his request. He sat on the throne and ordered the ship to engage to their destination. "Where are we going?" She asked.

"To the Taciticus Advanced Shipyards. You are supposed to meet Admiral Hurst," he said.

She was strangely quiet, simply staring at the screen. "Is there anything wrong?" He asked.

"Nothing," she replied.

"I have a favor to ask you," he said. "I'm quite curious about the things I hear about the Khosk. Is that true, you people got talons off the back of your hands?"

"You mean like this?" She said. She raised her hand, and four sharp long talons extruded from the internal skeletal structure of her hand.

The red klaxons went off, and they saved him from tedium of checking and approving requisitions, along with some unmentionable paperwork. Though it's been centuries since people used paper to do 'paperwork', the word stuck to the language.

"What now?" Hurst asked in a disturbed tone as an ensign barged into his room.

"Sir, sir!" The ensign exclaimed as he barged in. "We're under red alert sir! A Romulan Shadow class just appeared right off in front of the shipyard. It's requesting to talk to you in private."

"How the hell did it get by our detection grid network?" Hurst asked. "Never mind! I don't have time for explanations right now, but I will guarantee there will be an investigation! Now leave me, ensign."

He swung his chair to the terminal. There was the face of a Romulan woman, striking with the symmetry and angles of her face, distinctly attractive to any men of any race.

"Good morning, Admiral, morning it seems based on the clock cycle of your base," she said. "But it would be evening for a Romulan day today."

"I think I remember you. What do you want?" Hurst asked.

"Yes, Admiral, I'm just Major Riana now, demoted from my previous rank after my failure to destroy your illegal ship, the USS Athena. Luckily I am still left in command of this ship, the Shadow class IRW D'PakThau. As you can see, I know the location of your secret base, and I can through your pathetic defenses and detection grids. If I had wanted to blow your base to pieces, I would have done so easily."

"So I repeat, what do you want?" Hurst asked.

"Tal Shi'ar has a tight policy against personnel risking Tal Shi'ar ships and crew to settle their personal vendetta," Riana said. "We can only engage based on defined policy, or as a mission objective or within the parameters of fulfilling that mission. Suffice to say, it is very doubtful for the time being for the Tal Shi'ar to consider a mission to strike out against this base, and the USS Athena, and even if they did, the possibilities are dim that I would be chosen."

"However, the need for vengeance burns inside my mind," she said. "The humiliation, the disgrace...all this affects my efficiency to fulfill my tasks. If you understood what Pon-Faar meant to a Vulcan, let us say, I'm having a little equivalent of the Pon-Faar right now. But it's not the need for a mating ritual, it's the burning need for vengeance and vindication."

"So instead I am making you a personal offer. I demand hand to hand combat with the captain or any representative of the USS Athena," Riana said.

"In other words, you badly need to get this out of your system?" Hurst said.

"If that is how you want to put it, yes, I want to get this out of my system," she affirmed.

"Hmm, you know it is unnecessary for me to authorize and risk any of my personnel for a vendetta of yours," Hurst said, sensing a bargaining position. "But I will agree based on some conditions. First, that the person who is to be engaged in combat with you must do so out of his or her free will. Second, that no one will get killed. I do not want anyone in my command harmed or killed from this. I do not want to explain this to my colleagues, much less the parents or family of the person. I also do not want to explain this to my colleagues and your superiors in the Tal Shi'ar why one of their officers get killed in a Federation starbase. This has the potential of a great political embarrassment if this gets out. But I am willing to take the risk, if you will swear to me, for whatever your Romulan code of honor is truly worth, that one day, you're going to repay me with a favor. I won't tell you what that favor is, and I don't see any need for one right now, but it will be there when I need to ask you. Just to assure you, it will not be unreasonable. Think about it."

Riana fell silent for a moment. Then she returned, "I agree. Death is not the consequence I am seeking here, but dishonor. It is better for my enemy to face a lifetime of shame than the peace of death. I will beam over from my ship. You people pick your arena, and pick your champion. But to be fair, your champion must be biological and preferably human. Perhaps, Admiral, I will entertain you with my proficient display of Romulan wrestling."

"Yes, the Praetor favors this as his personal spectator sport, and so does your Senate," Hurst said. "That will be agreeable, but our champion will use wrestling, boxing and other hand to hand techniques Starfleet uses and derived from ancient Earth disciplines. We will set up an acceptable stage for you in our holodeck. When it is ready, we'll notify you so you can beam over, with some members of your party. Is that all right with you?"

"Fine, Admiral. I will be waiting," she replied.

* * *

"You're not serious, Admiral? Are you?" Garret asked.

"I am very serious," Hurst said. "This is perhaps the best way to get that wacko Romulan and her Shadow class bird off Athena's back once and for all. Despite what she said, you may never know if she may just decide to ambush the Athena. You've seen this Riana and her bird get through our sensor network."

"Yes, I remember that psycho," Athena said. "She cost us a number of our ships and the lives of many crew."

"Precisely, that's why it's best to get her off your back, and at the same time, put her on our side by forcing her to owe us a favor," Hurst said.

'Well, you're the Admiral for a very good reason, so I'll trust your judgement," Garret said. "Since I am the Captain, it is only right that I should volunteer and take her out myself. Besides, it will be a great personal pleasure to beat the crap out of her, even if she's a girl."

"She's also a Romulan, and she has the strength of a Vulcan. I propose that I should take her out instead," T'pak said.

"She's a woman, so she's probably not as strong as the men. I think I could take her down," Garret said.

"No me, me!" Athena said.

"No holograms," Hurst said. "That won't be fair."

"Fair? Fair? She whacks nearly a few hundred of our people with that psycho weapon she has on board that ship of hers, and you call that fair?" Athena objected.

"No, but I'm not letting a hologram into this either," Hurst said. "Besides I don't think she will agree."

"No, she won't agree when I beat the crap out of her," Athena said. "Hmmph!"

"No, let it be me!" Drudge offered. "I want my claws crushing the neck of a Romulan primate."

"That's precisely why I can't let you," Hurst said to Drudge. "You Gorns have a nasty history with the Romulans. You might get too nasty there. I don't want to explain to the Tal Shi'ar why they have a dead officer in my shipyard."

"As you Earthlings say, nice looking chick even for a Romulan," Ka'nal said. "They say people only wear tight suits when they go into these Romulan wrestling matches. Mmm, that Romulan woman in a tight suit, mmm. I am willing to jump into the mud with her anytime. Make it mud wrestling, and I will volunteer."

"This is serious, Ka'nal," Garret said.

"I am quite serious," Ka'nal retorted.

"Okay everyone, I think it should either be Garret or T'Pak," Hurst said.

"While I think T'Pak may be the logical choice, I must say that I as the Captain, must always be first in line to defend his ship and his lady's honor," Garret said.

"That kind of sounds like so romantic...if not a bit of a macho corn ball," Athena said.

"She will still have an advantage," T'Pak said.

"I will take my chances," Garret said. "Particularly with any chick on the ring." He smiled.

"Okay, then, Garret, it's your butt on the line. I suggest you practice a bit," Hurst said to Garret. Turning to T'Pak and Ka'nal, he said, "I got another assignment for both of you. I want you to tighten up security around the Athena, the Mercury and the slipstream hull. They're all docked within the shipyard. No talk, no mention of any thing or any word 'slipstream'. No Romulan within a hundred yards of these ships. Is that clear?"

"Understood, Admiral," Ka'nal said.

* * *

"So what do you think, Admiral?" Riana said as she collaborated on the design of the Romulan wrestling arena. "Will it be fit even for a Praetor?" She proclaimed as she stood in the middle of it, in a one piece tight fitting silver suit that seemed equally appropriate to a Triskellian duel.

"I think it will look perfect," Hurst said. "We just need to add more seats for spectators."

"That will not be a problem," she said. "I would rather have more witnesses to see the embarrassment I shall inflict upon your champion."

Hurst has to admit that the Romulan cut a rakish figure in her suit, so much that he cannot take her eyes off her. She began to practice moves with some of her crew.

Garret walked in with his trunks with some of his crew beside him. "Wow, is that the one?" Garret asked. "She looks quite different compared to when she wears her commander's uniform. I can see why Ka'nal wants to toss with her in mud wrestling. Whew!"

"I'm betting you're going to lose big, Captain," Ghia said. "She's faster, she's meaner, she's out for blood, while you're a bit out of shape, and quite distracted with her appearance. I'm making a bet on how many seconds you're going to last in that arena."

"Thanks for your vote of confidence, Miss Chief Engineer," Garret said, as he jabbed practicing his punches and kicks.

"My pleasure, Captain," Ghia said. "Well I need to run my betting pool." She walked over to a table where a number of Federation and Romulan officers have gathered to make small bets. "Hear ye, hear ye," she said. "Okay, let's begin taking the bets."

"Bajoran with the heart of a Ferengi," Drudge said. "I am so touched about my crewmates."

That's when Jacques Boussard, Captain of the Hiryu, walked in to speak to Admiral Hurst. "What brought you here, Captain?" Hurst asked.

"We heard a commotion about a Romulan ship entering the Taciticus defensive space. So we came here as fast as I could," Boussard said. "Imagine that. We saw this Shadow class bird right next to the shipyard just parked there, with both the shipyard, the Shadow and all the remaining ships on green status. So something is going on, so I came here and found all this."

"Are you pleased?" Hurst asked.

"Definitely. Looks like someone's going to get their butts kicked," Boussard said. "I could not care less if that is going to be that Romulan witch or that Garret wussie there. Someone just needs to get hurt and I want to watch it."

"Is that a betting pool there?" Boussard asked.

"Sure, go right ahead," Hurst answered. "Who are you betting on?"

"I think the Romulan witch will kick his butt," Boussard said. "Are you putting on a bet, Admiral?"

"No, Captain, I have made enough bets throughout my life. I'm going to sit this one out," Hurst said. Hurst looked around to see if there was any more support for Garret. Like two blonde twins and teenage groupies, Athena and Mercie were cheering Garret on. Then they walked over to Hurst's chair, which in relation to the make shift Romulan wrestling arena, would have been the equivalent of the Praetor's position.

"Admiral," Athena said. "I'm brought Mercie here to see all this, and enhance her knowledge and experience of both human behavior and alien culture."

"Well, that's quite nice of you, to treat your 'sister' this way," Hurst said.

"I find it most fascinating," Mercie said. "To see that humans and Romulans obtain pleasure in the display of physical combat intended to injure one another."

"You mean beat the crap out of each other, yeah, all people like that," Athena said. "Don't forget, Mercie, we're here to cheer the Captain on."

"You mean to provide the moral encouragement while in your words, your Captain gets the crap beaten out of him," Mercie said. "I am right with you."

* * *

"Captain, something's funny over there," the lieutenant said.

"What is it?" The captain of the Defiant class USS Molehill asked.

"Well, uh? There seems to be a Romulan bird parked outside the shipyard," the lieutenant explained. "There's nothing fighting or anything, shields down, weapons off. The yard, the bird and all the ships around it are in green alert."

"Must be some diplomatic interaction," the captain said.

"Is there anything going on?" Tonya asked.

"Nothing special, nothing to worry about. Hail the yard," the captain said. The face of an ensign manning the Comm station in the shipyard appeared.

"What's happening? What's with the Romulan ship over there?" The captain asked.

"We have some visitors from the Romulans," said the ensign. "I'm not privileged to disclose what's going on, but you can come down and see." The ensign seemed to be beaming.

"No, thank you. It's none of my business," the captain said. He turned around to face his crew. "See, just diplomacy in action."

He turned back to the screen. "Ensign, we have some people and stuff to drop off, then we're on our way."

"All right then. Your IFF codes, your registries all check out. You got security clearance to use your transporters. Go and drop your people and things off," the ensign said.

"Righto!" The captain said. He turned to Tonya. "Commander, it's been my privilege to meet you, no matter how brief it was."

"My pleasure, Captain," Tonya said. "Being on the bridge of a Defiant brings back a lot of good memories, and some hairy ones. Good luck, Captain, we hope to see each other sometime again." They shook hands. When she let go, she lifted her pack and stood in attention. "Beam me out."

She materialized in a hallway. She could immediately sense a tightening of security, which was to be expected if some diplomats were on board the base. What's the fuzz?

The windows gazed out into the massive docks where ships hanged motionlessly in a line. Most shipyards only suspend themselves with scaffolding like a spider and can only handle on ship at a time. But this was huge. This shipyard could probably que and build a few medium sized ships at one time. From the bridge of the Molehill, she already saw a small starbase next to the shipyard, which must serve as the shipyard's crew, staff and officer residences. In the vicinity, there was also an advanced technology laboratory. This area was so remote even by Federation standards, and so it was a perfect place to test and develop new technologies in secrecy.

Right into the docks, she saw a few strange ships. She's not up to date with the latest Federation starship designs, but she swore she has never seen or heard of these designs before. Two of the designs had sharp triangular heads. The larger of the two, even had four nacelles, while the smaller one had a deflector of an unusual design with the warp engines neatly integrated into the engineering hull. Truly unusual, she thought as she shook her head.

A young man walked by, his collar wore the pins of an ensign. "Ensign," she stopped him. He seemed at shock, then smiled, pleasant at the sight of a girl's appearance, then turned stiff, formal and serious at the sight of the pins of her beaten, less than clean uniform. "Commander!" He stood in strict attention.

"At ease, ensign," she ordered. You would hardly see this type around where she came from, she thought. Young, fresh ensigns. It wasn't long ago she was one. In fact, they may just be the same age. But the chaos of combat and the front lines can make a small difference in time seem like decades. "I am looking for the office of Admiral Hurst," she asked.

"Oh, he's not in the office right now," the ensign replied. "You may see him in the holodeck. Apparently there's some business going on with the Romulans over there."

"Some business?" She asked. "Diplomatic mission?"

"Actually no," the ensign said. He bent down to whisper. "It's some sports match, but I'm not allowed to just tell anyone. The holodeck is open to the public. You can just go in and see."

"That I will," she said.

* * *

There was a loud thud. Athena grimaced. Mercie frowned. There was another loud thud again, then a grunt, and a yell in pain. "Ewww," Athena said. "I just wonder how much punishment the human body could take."

"Not much I suppose. I suggest after this is all over, we have to check him for internal injuries and hemorrhaging," Mercie said.

There was another thud again. Athena grimaced. "Do you really think he would give up?" Mercie asked.

"Nah, the Captain has too much pride for that," Athena said. "Ow, that hurts," she remarked as she watched the fight.

"After this, there won't be much left of your captain but his pride," Mercie said. "How will this experience enhance my programming?"

"You get to see the folly of mankind and his machismo," said Athena. "The more you see how people make a fool of themselves, the more you can see what you can do to save them out of it."

"Oh I see," said Mercie.

"I should have been there instead," Athena said. "I would have kicked that Romulan into kingdom come. But no! The Admiral wants to play it fair and square, one flesh and blood being against another." There was shouts and grunting, then another thud. "Stand up, Captain!" Athena shouted. Big body thud again. Then she grimaced again, her hand in her face. "Ewww..."

Nobody looked when the doors of the holodeck slid open and the dark haired girl walked in. She scanned around, then walked slowly among the crowd, examining the faces, all attention fixated to the fight. The human held on, fighting gallantly, but what possessed him to take on a Romulan, who as she closely watched, was well versed on the secretive martial arts the Tal Shi'ar treasured. She looked into every face, and found who she was looking for. Her heart jumped at the sight of someone she knew long ago. But there were matters to be settled first, like dealing with this travesty of a fight.

He blocked one of her blows, and then the other, but he didn't see the next one coming. She threw all her strength into that kick, enough to arch her back, as she smashed her foot right straight into his crotch. He crumbled, screaming with his tongue out, both his hands tendering his crotch.

"What sort of Romulan martial art technique is that?" Mercie asked.

"It's not Romulan, it's human. It's called the below-the-belt-technique," Athena said. "I think we better check him up. I don't think he's going to stand up this time."

Both Mercie and Athena ran to the side of their fallen captain. "How are you doing, Captain?" Athena asked. "You've managed to hold her off for a while."

"Yes, I've managed to hurt her fists with my face," Garret said, tending to his jaw.

Riana jumped up and down the arena, prancing and pacing left and right of the ring. both her hands raised in the air in the expression of victory. "You humans are pathetic! If there was a real fighter among you, this would have lasted much longer and posed a much more interesting challenge for me." Even for a cold Romulan, her hormones ran high, overwhelming the logic centers in her brain. "Come on!" She challenged. "I want another of you pathetic humans! Come on! What are you scared off? As you humans say, bring it on!"

"Perhaps this is more of an even match," Tonya Khidan said, as she jumped into the arena with a tee and shorts. "You're out of control, Romulan. I can always smell a Tal Shi'ar witch around."

"Now that's a real fight, two chicks after each other," Boussard remarked to Hurst. "Anyone you know?"

"Oh yes, she's someone I know very well," Hurst answered.

Riana sniffed the air. She pointed to Tonya's forehead. "The Tal Shi'ar has records of an infamous Federation Section operative with Khosk blood. I suppose that may be you. It will be a pleasure and a bonus to deal with you. I suppose that you will fight this fair."

"Don't worry, Romulan monkey, I will fight this fair, not like you. I will not draw my claws on you. My fists will suffice," Tonya said. "And I don't have a crotch you can hit on."

Riana lunged at her, but Tonya quickly dodged it. Tonya countered with a knife hand, but Riana parried it. Riana lunged again with a closed fist, but found herself swinging into empty air as Tonya inserted her elbow just below Riana's chest. As Riana grasped, Tonya caught Riana's jaw with an open hand, throwing her head backward and out of balance.

Riana spit, then jogged around the arena, jabbing. She swing a high circular kick aimed at Tonya's face, but only found nothing but air again. Tonya kicked low and sweeping, knocking off Riana's leg from under her, dumping Riana on her back. Tonya pounced over Riana, only to find Riana's foot greeting her right on her face. "Hmm, now this isn't anything remotely like Romulan wrestling anymore. This is a cat fight," Boussard remarked.

"Who is that?" Garret asked as Athena and Mercie dragged him to a safe place.

"I don't know," Athena said. "She's just somebody getting into trouble. It looks like you need some help. Luckily I brought along a medical scanner here. I thought it may come in handy."

"That Romulan almost terminated my family line," Garret grunted. "I think you better check if I still have any my reproductive capability left."

"It's fine, nothing is really mashed. I could alleviate your pain with a menthol cooling stimulant into your nerves," Athena said as she ran the medical scanner. "There."

"Ah, thanks, Athena."

A circular kick landed right under Tonya's chest, throwing her backward. As Riana jumped over her, she used the Romulan's weight to swing out and send crashing into one of the tables.

"I don't think she's getting up on that one," Boussard remarked to Hurst. "How did the other girl get so strong?"

"She's a Khosk hybrid. The Khosk are a strong hunter race," Hurst explained.

"Definitely strong," Boussard added. "Well, I will see you, Admiral. I need to collect on my bets here."

The Romulans picked up their fallen captain and carried her out in a loaned stretcher. The First Officer of the D'PakThau walked to the Admiral, and said with a small bow, "We thank you, Admiral, for your kind hospitality and for the entertainment you provided us. I'm sure, when our major is conscious once more, she will express the same gratefulness. As soon as we collect our betting dues from your Bajoran officer, we will be on our way. The bets were against the human captain, not against your Khosk officer."

"Do as you please, gentlemen. You probably well earned your bets. Now I must get back to my work," Hurst said. "I hope your commander got the angst out of her system. I don't really wish to be bothered with such issues again."

"I believe she did," the Romulan First Officer said, looking over the unconscious body of the Major. "We hope we don't need to bother you again, Admiral. We hope to see you again, Admiral, in the best of times." The Romulan gently bowed and walked to the betting table to settle some business.

Hurst looked around, but the Khosk girl disappeared.

* * *

His door silently opened by, but the sweet whistle of the door was still there to tell him someone had just entered.

He looked up and saw a bit of his own eyes in the raven haired girl that stood before him. She still looked as young as he remembered, even though years had gone by since the day she left him. The Khosk had long lifetimes like Vulcans, and she could probably stay looking that young for half a century.

"Tonya?" He asked.

"Admiral?" She replied.

"It's been a long time since I haven't seen you. Not since the days you have left for the Academy," Hurst said. "Our communication has been sporadic since then. Section work, you know."

"I didn't know you work for the Section, Admiral," she replied.

"And I didn't know you worked for the Section as a deep range operative. The Section itself is layered with too many secrets. I only just recently found out," he said. "And please don't call me, Admiral. You know better."

"Should you prefer that I call you 'father'? Or 'Daddy'?" She said.

"I suppose, Daddy, you also want me to give you a hug," Tonya said.

Hurst sighed. "No, but you have to believe me that I always think of you. And not a day would pass that I don't think of you and your mother."

"I just wish you acted more of it," Tonya said.

"Yes, I wish I did. So many times," Hurst said. "I'm sorry." He stretched his arms out for her. She walked forward, wrapped her arms lightly around him and tapped his cheek with a kiss. Then she walked away, and sat on one of the chairs, leaving him standing.

"I wanted to say that I'm proud of you, proud for you to grow up as a beautiful young woman, proud of what you have done for Starfleet, for the Section, proud to have you as a daughter," Hurst said.

"So?" Tonya said. "Am I here for a social family reunion call? Or do you have some real serious business?"

Hurst wanted her to hug him for a longer moment but he could not blame for the way she felt. He had a lot to blame for the way she grew up, even though he tried to correct in the end and encouraged her to go to the Academy.

But he had also recently read about her operational history in Starfleet and the Section. What he read was not the lonely street girl who hunted in the forests of Khosk, or who was out of place, but curious about the universe, when she first stepped on the USS Holland, the New Orleans class frigate he commanded. What he read about was a cold tactically efficient commander, who almost knew no fear, and would undertake the most dangerous covert missions with consistent success. Even in the secretive nature of the Section, the exploits of some members have developed their own legend, and he had heard whispers about the operative who was code named "Huntress", but never realized in his wildest dreams, or feared nightmares, that his own flesh and blood would be the one. If she was just a soldier, he would be proud to have someone like this under his command. But this was not his vision for a daughter's future. He would rather have her in a secure house, with a stable and safe career, maybe with a man or a husband that can take of her in a way her father never did, and make a family that he had always wished for her in the first place. But this, going deep into Alphan Jem'Hadar territory, or Romulan, or Klingon, or whoever rear their ugly threat with the Federation, this was going too far. This was taking the "like father, like daughter" syndrome too far.

"Are you truly proud or are you disappointed inside, Father?" Tonya asked, her keen senses never failing.

"As a member of Starfleet, you performed exemplary," Hurst said.

"But as a daughter?" Tonya asked.

"Let's be frank, Tonya, what you do scares the hell out of me. I want you to live a life secure, safe and happy," Hurst said.

"Like a housewife, or a run of the mill Starfleet officer," Tonya said. "I can't see myself being such. Being ordinary. But let's get to the point, why am I here? Is this some social family call? Are you pulling me out of Section Operations and stuff me into some safe desk job so I can get married to some Starfleet officer? Or is there some real serious stuff going on?"

"All three actually," Hurst confessed. "We got some real heavy stuff coming down. It's about your mother."

"...What about my mother?" Tonya asked. "Do you know anything about what happened to her? Where is she now?" She demanded. "The last time I saw her, she boarded a Maquis Raider, to join with the Resistance against the Cardassians and later against the Dominion."

"Where is she? Dammit, father, where is she?"

* * *

Several days ago, in an unknown system....

Citizen Oblan Sironon stared out from the bridge of the former USS Koxinga, an Achilles class cruiser the Cartels captured from the Federation during the Dominion Wars. The Koxinga herself was a prize she was not quite a Sovereign, but the next best thing. They made her to deal with the latest Jem'Hadar super battleships, and her sleek hull contained batteries of pulse phasers and quantum torpedoes, including the all aspect new rapid fire Phalanx mini quantum torpedo tubes. Her design was slender and organic, a long flat elongated ellipsoid saucer with a low profile, dropped nacelles, and a design that combined elements of the Sovereign with the Intrepid class, filling a vital gap between the two. After fighting successive wings of Jem'Hadar strike fighters, she drifted for days heavily damaged, until Ferengi Marauders working for the Cartels disabled her power, weapons and shield systems using weapons based on Breen technology. Under the Cartels, they refitted the Koxinga to serve as a mobile base and command center, with lab facilities to distill drugs. But now, Citizen Oblan has a new prize. Oblan viewed the new Cartel carrier, the Tumanjal with pride of an artist about to complete his latest masterpiece. The Koxinga kept a protective escort of the massive carrier nearly three times its size.

For three centuries, the populations of the Galaxy feared the Cartels by another name the Orion Pirates. But today, please don't call the Orion Pirates 'pirates' it was such a nasty politically incorrect word. Call them "syndicates" or "cartels". Equally politically incorrect was to use the term "Orion" to describe them, for they mostly comprise of anyone disenfranchised from the worlds or empires Humans, Klingons, Ferengi, and just about everyone who hated the establishment. In fact, Orions were rarely seen in the "Orion Pirates", and peaceful Orions everywhere hated the name association. But no one hated the name more than the pirates themselves, who felt that the Orions were getting the notoriety the pirates of a hundred different races have worked hard to earn.

So please call them the 'Cartels'.

The massive ship lumbered as it sought a resting and hiding place amongst the asteroids. She was a massive ship, nearly fourteen hundred meters in length, made from an equally massive transport ship. Her entire body was built like a mobile base, like a massive column set on its side with a hexagonal cross section. Marking the body was rows and rows of aero-fighters embedded directly in rest pods throughout the long hull, their bellies facing outward, flush with the surface of the hull when the fighters docked. This wasn't a new technology the syndicate copied the system from the schematics of an aero-shuttle used in the Intrepid class. Without a launching and landing bay, fighters launch directly off from their resting pods, and dock the same way, making it impossible for an enemy strike to prevent the launching of fighters.

Each Cartel Attacker was a marvel of straight forward and efficient design, a cheap easily produced ship that consolidated all the technologies the Cartels have assimilated by hook or crook throughout the years. Two scythe like wings extended from a small central fuselage that held a cockpit for a crew of three. Each wing was double bent; the larger inner bent or wing contains an impulse engine sandwiched inside the wing, while the outer bend to the wing tip contained a small warp engine sandwiched inside. In the wing roots lie two pulse phasers, and a micro quantum torpedo launcher in the center. A single carrier like the Tumanjal can carry a few hundred Attackers embedded outside of its hull, and a large reserve hidden within.

Former Maquis Raiders escorted the massive carrier. Even though many Maquis were rehabilitated back into the Federation, many remain forever distrustful of the Federation and wanted heavier retribution against the Cardassians. The Federation, led by politicians and admirals out to serve narrow interests, also imposed a number of unpopular relocation programs against natives and colonists of border worlds as they redefined borders to suit treaties and compromises with the Klingon, Romulan and Cardassian nations. These led to the Balkan Insurrections they called it "Balkans" because it paralleled political situation of 20th Century Earth, on a place on Earth called the Balkans, a situation where in the end, sparked wars. The disenfranchised from these worlds joined the Cartels in hopes of retribution and justice, many of whom providing the manpower resources to pilot the Raider frigates and the Cartel Attackers.

An ingenious adaptation by itself, Maquis engineers built the Raider ships themselves from make shift parts readily available and salvaged from other ships, often merchant vessels and outdated military ships. Cartel engineers a mixed host from different species managed to upgrade the Raiders from a modest armament of two Type 8 beam phasers to a more formidable two Type 1 pulse phasers. During the Dominion War and after, wreckage from Defiant class ships provided samples of pulse phasers which Cartel engineers could copy from and adapt to their own ships.

Cartel engineers also fitted a number of Raiders with Klingon pulse disruptor cannons copied or taken from captured, defected, or surplus B'rel Bird of Preys. Over a hundred years ago, the Klingon House of Korgath joined the Orion Pirates to form the Crimson Shadown. Ever since then, there was no shortage of Klingon defectors to the Cartels, bringing their ships with them, the latest being refugees and supporters of the House of Duras.

Salvaged Jem'Hadar Strike Fighters also provided the Cartels for the first time, access to polaron weapons, and Cartel engineers also fitted polaron cannons on Raiders with the same simple adaptation they did with disrupters and pulse phasers. The mixed weapons would prove to be a boon targets found themselves unable to adapt with the sudden variety of weapons used against them. As soon as a Raider conducts a strafing pass with a disrupter, another Raider would hit the target with a polaron or pulse phaser.

In addition to that, Raiders continue to use standard photon torpedo tubes, and recently quantum torpedoes, another technology captured and copied from the Federation. Long having access to plasma weapons, Cartel engineers also adapted Raiders to plasma cannons and torpedoes.

Finding the Raider easy to build, capable of adapting itself in using a variety of surplus components and weapons, the Cartels adopted the Raider as one of their own, and even resumed their production with the help of former Maquis engineers who has since joined the Cartels. Even the Klingons working with the Cartels have learned to replace and love the Raiders as much as their beloved B'rels.

Oblan Sironon himself was of mixed ancestry, which perfectly complemented his position, his vision of what the Cartels will be. He never told anyone of what his origins were, although they suspected him to be of part human, part Orion in blood. He always told everyone it does not matter where and what he came from, or what was his blood. He always told everyone he was a Citizen of the Galaxy, that he recognized no race, no blood, no species or culture. To everyone under his eyes, everyone under the eyes of the Cartels, they were all the same. Klingon, Human, Vulcan, Tellarite, Bajoran, Orion, Andorian, it does not matter everyone in the Cartels were citizens of the Galaxy. Even as he conducted operations that were considered criminal by Federation law, the Citizen Oblan, as he preferred to be called, held a messianic charisma as he preached the tale of universal brotherhood, spiritual utopia and ultimate enlightenment for the entire Galaxy. Even people as steadfast as the Klingons, would renounce their culture and empire, and as Citizen Oblan placed it, to rise above the petty concerns of tribal cultures and traditions, all which served to block the ultimate road to knowledge and enlightenment, to rise above the handicap of one's genetics and species, to become a sole intelligent and spiritual being, where only the Essence of One shall remain.

To help the many races that serve the Cartels reach their goal of Enlightenment faster, Citizen Oblan rediscovered the potential of Ketracel White. Originally captured from the dead Jem'Hadar and Vorta, Cartel chemists have improved on the nutritional formula. Not only does it have delicious taste but it added a strong hallucegenic and psychedelic effect not just on the mind of a Jem'Hadar, but with any other species who consumed it, including Human, Klingon, Vulcan and Bajoran. Everyone. The new formula was called Ketracel Ice, since it can be transported in solid crystal form, then melt into room temperature at exposure to air. The new formula does not degrade mental functions it boosted intelligence and sensory acuteness, as well as alpha emotions such as courage and daring. People who tried Ketracel Ice experienced great intense highs of passion, and yet become more easily prone to suggestion. They also become hopelessly addicted. It was all too perfect, to make people serve Citizen Oblan, the great but humble Servant of the Galaxy.

Now he awaited those he will meet.

"Sir, we have a squadron of Jem'Hadar Strike Fighters and larger Strike Cruisers escorting a Jem'Hadar Super Carrier," his helmsman said. "They are on green status."

"Don't alarm them. Maintain green status. Hail them," Oblan ordered. He noted in the corner of the eyes, that readouts indicated the Tumanjal had settled in a nearby asteroid field and had cloaked away from the sensors of the Jem'Hadar ships. If the Jem'Hadar would try something funny which they won't given their straightforward and brutal nature the Turandal could immediately launch her Attackers and deal with the problem. And no surprise, the Turandal was even bigger by nearly a third over the Jem'Hadar super carrier, and the Attackers can overwhelm the Strike Fighters.

The appearance of Strike Cruisers and the Super Carrier affirmed with great comfort to Citizen Oblan, as they were new ship classes specific to the Jem'Hadar Alphans, a new Jem'Hadar subspecies that were even more aggressive and stronger than their Gamma quadrant equivalents. But their loyalty to the Founders were in question, and that was what Citizen Oblan was here to exploit.

"Tell them to meet me in the conference room in private," Oblan told his Conn officer. He turned to his woman, who had been standing on his side all the time, while he reflected on the events.

"Don't tell me you brought the Jem'Hadar here into your meeting," Gera said.

"Don't worry, my love," Oblan said. "To add the Alphans as a valued member of the Cartels would tremendously increase our strength and power."

"But the Jem'Hadar brutally occupied my planet. I do not want much to do with them," Gera said.

"No, it's the Dominion, under the orders of the Founders, that brutally occupied your planet Khosk, Gera," Oblan clarified. "The Jem'Hadar are just puppets, tools. And now these tools, like those many who came to our side, have become unhappy and discontent on those who had ruled them unjustly for so long. I will come and offer them a new vision of their future, for them to seek personal enlightenment instead of worshiping the false gods that were the Founders."

"When they are on our side, they strike back at the Dominion and all those that have reduced Khosk and many proud civilizations to the sad refugee status it now is. Just remember, my precious, it's not just the Dominion, but the fault of everyone who tussled the Khosk and many worlds like her, as a bargaining chip in intra-galactic politics, people such as Federation politicians, the treacherous Cardassians, and even the Klingons."

"I understand your point, my love, but I still do not trust them," Gera said. "Let me come with you, in case they will try to be less than polite." Gera bared her talons, as they unsheathed off from the back of her hand.

"All right, maybe you should," Oblan agreed. He wrapped his arm around her thin waist, caressing the smooth curves of her body. She would have been middle aged by human standards, yet like him or the Vulcans, the Khosk can live extraordinarily long life spans as long as two or even three centuries, and retain their youth for much of that time. She looked young and supple, like a woman in her twenties, even though she confessed to him she had mothered a daughter that would already be an adult by now. But that was what made her the perfect lover her experience and maturity in mind and spirit, coupled with a young body.

As he pulled her body close to his, she opened her lips, and met his lips, his tongue going deep in her mouth. He didn't mind the slight scratchiness of a Khosk's cat like tongue, like fine sandpaper. "Maybe later, hmm? After the meeting," he proposed.

She pressed his buttocks closer to hers. "Yes, after the meeting," she affirmed.

* * *

"What shall I call you," Oblan asked.

"Just call me First," said the Jem'Hadar who seemed biggest. "He is Second and that is Third."

"I see, but is there any other more convenient and distinguishable way to call you, Mr. First?" Oblan asked.

"First is what I am called, or would you prefer to call me, First of the 42nd Carrier Division," said Mr. First.

"First is just fine," Oblan replied. "What happened to all your Vorta?"

"Alphan units rebelling against the Founders have basically cut off the heads of all their Vorta," said Mr. First, "and then we sent the heads back to the Founders in an automated transport."

"I see. You have an interesting way to make a point," Oblan said. "But aren't your Founders like gods to you?"

"Not until their defeat in the hands of the Alpha and Beta Quadrant powers. Now they are no longer infallible. They are no longer gods to us. We realize their manipulation of us. Even some of the Gammas have revolted against the Founders. The power of the Dominion is over, but that of the Jem'Hadar has begun," First explained.

"I see. Then we have a mutual interest," Oblan said. "The Federation is as decadent as the Dominion. So is the Klingon Empire, the Romulan Star Empire all weak, all ready to be plucked for the taking. You see my forces. Many humans and Klingons you have fought against in the last war, now set against their former leaders."

"Mister First, even though you have shipyards and factories to build all your weapons and ships, you cannot last in the Alpha Quadrant without an industrial base to supply your resource needs and food requirements. Without the Vorta, your leadership structures are fragile. Sooner or later it would be difficult to maintain control of your men and units, once your stocks of Ketracel White runs out. There will be chaos and tribal rule. The strongest will duel for the position. You know that can happen you, my friend," Oplan explained.

First grunted and his cold eyes looked at the Second and Third.

"What I offer you is a viable society," Oplan said. "I offer you enlightenment, salvation. I am not a god, I will not pretend to be a god. I am but a citizen of the Galaxy as you will be. We shall trade in equitable terms, and the services you render to me are from your own free will. I shall respect you as an individual and a partner."

"And what are your goods?" Mister First asked.

Oblan raised a flask with a white liquid and shook its contents. "We have made some improvements on Ketracel White. Call it Ketracel Ice. It is truly a remarkable refinement that all species could take and enjoy it. It has greater nutritional value. It helps better in your cellular regeneration and eases your stress and pain. It can be stored in a solid, crystalline form, which when subjected to room temperature and a humid atmosphere, will melt into a nutritional liquid several times its frozen volume. This means you could store far greater amounts of this in your ships. Try it."

Oblan gave the flask to Mister First and a simple straw. "Just go ahead and sip it from there," Oblan said.

First sipped and found himself shaking his head in agreement. He passed the flask over Second who got a quick sip and to Third, who also sipped. Then with excited voices, they shook their fist in the air.

"I would assume that you approve of the formulation," Oblan said.

First noted his approval with vigorous, forceful nodding. "Uhm-Uhm, I want more! This is so much better than the stuff being fed to us," he said, he took one more drink. Second and Third started to be unruly too, patting First's shoulder for a chance to drink once more.

"Please, gentlemen, calm down, there is plenty for everyone," Oblan said as he handed Second and Third two flasks of Ketracel Ice. As Second and Third sipped with a content grin in their faces, Oblan added a remark. "As you will know, gentlemen, the Cartels have exclusive rights and manufacturing ability of this new substance. We can easily supply any requirements your Alphan armies need."

First called Second and Third to bow down, and then mumbled something among each other. First turned to Oblan. "You have a deal. We will require an up front supply first."

"That is not a problem," Oblan said. "Let us discuss more details."

* * *

"Goodbye," Oblan said as the Jem'Hadar beamed out of the Koxinga.

"You didn't really send them a supply of the Ketracel Ice, did you?" Gera asked.

"Of course I did, one entire transport load. How do you expect me to get them hooked to it?" Oblan said. Gera nodded. "Now what were we saying a while ago?" She said as she placed her arms around Oblan's neck.

Suddenly the communicator toned. "What is it? If you disturbed me for no purpose----!" Oblan barked.

"Great Citizen! We have a small ship approaching us! It's hailing your name," said the office on duty.

"It looks like we have a slight disturbance, Gera," Oblan said.

"Let me go with you to the bridge," Gera said.

On board the bridge of the Koxinga, Oblan addressed the conn officer. "Status report!"

"We got a Type 11 Federation shuttle coming in. There is an Admiral Shelton who demands to speak to you," the officer said.

"Tell him I do not speak to anyone in an open frequency. Tell him to dock in my shuttlebay, and we will discuss things from there," Oblan said. "Gera, let's go to the shuttle bay."

"A Federation admiral? What is he doing here?" Gera asked, as they headed for the shuttle bay.

"I have many contacts within the Federation, right up to the central core of the government and Starfleet," Oblan said. "The Federation is not as incorruptible as it looks."

On board the shuttle bay, Admiral Shelton stepped out of the Type 11 shuttle. Oblan waved the guards off, and they shook hands.

"It is important that I must see you quickly and in private," Shelton said. Oblan noticed that his hands shook terribly. He wondered if the Admiral had any problems finding and coming to this location. The Admiral was probably using autopilot in managing the craft. Oblan had a small bottle of Ketracel Ice inside his white robes. He took it out and gave it to the Admiral. With shaking hands, the Admiral accepted the gift, and drank in deep gulps from the bottle.

"Ah," the Admiral said, relieved as he wiped the last remaining liquid sticking on his lips with his tongue.

"This is all too sudden, Admiral," Oblan said. "We are not expected to meet in another week or so."

"This can't wait. The Federation has tracked down the Jem'Hadar task force, that you just met, and has a scout striking force coming this way!" The Admiral said.

Oblan clicked on his communicator to get in touch with the officers in his bridge. "Where is the Jem Hadar carrier?"

"It just left, Great Citizen," the bridge officer responded.

"Don't mind the Jem'Hadar. They didn't know they were followed. Those brutes have sensors that were crap," the Admiral said.

"So why are you willing to betray your own kind, Admiral," Gera asked.

"Is it obvious? I'm not doing this for free. After all the years I've put into Starfleet, what the hell can I show for. This is payback time. Time to finally look out for Number One," the Admiral said. Turning to Oblan, he said, "I will tell you more, very valuable information, if you agree to load my entire shuttle with the Ketracel Ice, in frozen form."

"Tell me that information, and I will judge if it is valuable enough for a shuttle load of Ketracel Ice," Oblan said.

"We got a task force on maximum warp coming here," the Admiral said. "They have been attempting to track you down and destroy you. I got the disposition of the force coming down to intercept you. I have information that can assist you not just in defeating them, but capturing them as well."

"That sounds it could be worth a shuttle load of the Ice," Oblan said.

"Are you willing to throw away so many of your own Starfleet lives?" Gera asked. "Or perhaps you hope to eliminate a rival or competitor in your Starfleet ranks?"

"That too, but frankly, I see an opportunity to kill two birds in one stone, but the bigger bird is my cargo of Ice," the Admiral said. "Let's go to your bridge now, there is not much time to lose." Oblan nodded, and ordered the workers to fill the shuttle up with the precious Ice.

Back on the bridge, Shelton explained. "You got five ships coming. Three of them Defiant class ships, and the fourth is an Intrepid A class ship. No, it's not something like the Voyager you must have heard in the news about. This one has fixed dropped nacelles with more powerful impulse engines on the rear, and like recent ships, carries burst fire quantum torpedoes. This ship is acting as the spotter and coordinator for the the other four vessels."

"But it's the fifth vessel you should watch out. It's a new Ares class, a Prometheus class variant for mass production. As you know the Prometheus is a poorly kept secret," the Admiral said.

"Yes, we know about this, and its multiple ship separation mode, which if you ask me, is a questionable concept," Oblan said. "There is very little that we don't know of the insides of Starfleet."

"The Ares class is still built out of three hulls, but they have disabled MVAM, bolted the hulls solid, and removed the redundant equipment or lower cost," the Admiral explained. "It's has the firepower of a Sovereign, but is faster, more agile and costs less to make. The redundant hull construction and nacelles creates a ship that can take more battle damage. It still has ablative armor and regenerative shielding technology, which would give your shield disrupters a bit of a trouble."

"But these ships can be yours, including the prized sensor equipment aboard the Intrepid A, which will give you a head start against Federation reconnaissance abilities," the Admiral said. "There is a way to get through these shields. There are certain classified frequencies that you can use to overload and disable their shield generators." The Admiral punched the values into a digital pad, and handed it to Oblan.

"Very well, we should get ready," Oblan said.

Continue to part 2