Federation Fan Fiction

A Planet Too Far

Chapter Twenty

©2002 Domenico Bettinelli, Jr. All Rights Reserved

D+21 days, 0630 hours

The secret door was well camouflaged from casual inspection and even a more careful look might pass it by. To the naked eye it was a bare rock wall at the foot of a cliff, surrounded by giant boulders. The mountain river streamed by a few meters away and its high-water mark, made during the spring ice-melt floods, was still below the bottom of the cliff. And the camouflage was a low-power holographic system that would fool the naked eye and evade detection by all but the most intrusive scans.

Tony sat in a cleft between two boulders and behind several trees a few hundred meters from the entrance. He carefully observed the area between the edge of the tree line and the door. It was a wide-open area with only haphazardly placed boulders for cover. He had no doubt that there were Jem’Hadar hiding out there, just waiting for a Marine to show himself.

Second and Third Platoon were spread out in the trees behind Tony, waiting for the signal to advance. For his part, Tony was waiting for his planned diversion, First Platoon’s ambush of the Jem’Hadar patrol. He reasoned that once the enemy had been engaged, the enemy sentries would either move toward the battle or back to the door. Either way that would give him the opportunity to cross over to the entrance unmolested.

In the distance, he heard the sound of phaser fire, almost all Starfleet weapons with a few Jem’Hadar disruptors thrown in. Nik, crouching nearby, whispered to Tony, “Did you see that?”

“What?” Tony hadn’t seen anything move out in the rock field, which was understandable given that the enemy was probably shrouded.

“Look at the gravel and dust.” Nik pointed at the open space before them. Tony looked carefully at the ground and the smaller rocks and pebbles scattered everywhere. Just as his gaze swept a spot near some boulders, a few rocks bounced as if—as if kicked by an invisible foot! Now that Tony knew what to look for, he could see traces of the invisible foes moving about, quickly heading toward First Platoon’s ambush. When the rustling had stopped, Tony leaned back and waved his arm at Bezsh in the signal that told him to send his men to catch the reinforcements in a crossfire with First Platoon. Satisfied that things were progressing as planned, Tony gathered his courage together for the next move.

If he was wrong, if there were more enemy out there, if the door was heavily guarded by a regiment of enemy soldiers, he and his company would be slaughtered. As simple as that, they would be dead. The toughest thing in the world can be that first step. Tony knew what he needed to do, he had resolved to do it, and he knew he was going to do it. But that first movement would commit him and there would be no taking it back. Some decisions were either very right or vastly wrong and the difference was life and death.

He took a deep breath and then, without turning his head, said to Nik, “Move out.”

The remaining platoon rose as one and rushed out into the rock field, running through the maze of boulders, keeping their heads down and their eyes peeled for an enemy that could appear at any moment. They did not yell with bravado as so many bad holo-novels portrayed battles. In recon, silence and stealth was life and that instinct was well ingrained in the elite soldiers.

Tony reached the wall first, Nik and Wickham and Ensign Ntambue Kilolo, the platoon leader, close behind. The two pilots rushed up after them, more winded than the fit recon Marines in the thin mountain air. The officers and senior enlisted men spread out with their arm-mounted tricorders scanning the wall, looking for the holograph’s control systems.

“Got it,” said Kilolo, holding his arm at the base of the wall. Tony and Nik came rushing back over. Time was running out. Every minute they spent out here was another minute that the countermeasures against the Dominion’s sensor net would be discovered and compensated against. If they were found out here in the open, they could be decimated in a counterattack and they’d never get inside.

Nik went to work with his tricorder. “I should be able to disrupt the holo in a couple of minutes.” As the experienced Marine bent to his task, Tony looked around and saw First and Third Platoons returning from their ambush. He couldn’t tell at a glance how many casualties they had suffered, but if anything they were light.

The “cliff wall” shimmered for a second, as if it were suddenly a pool of water, and then with a hiss and an electric crack it disappeared, revealing a metallic wall and armored door. Nik watched the holo go away dispassionately and said, “Step one complete. Now for step two.” He moved to an access panel and again began working his controls.

Meanwhile, Bezsh and Asir came jogging up to report to Tony. “There were about 30 of them altogether. We wiped them out to the last one,” Asir said first. Bezsh had a thoughtful look, and Tony knew that the experienced warrior would have insights to give him.

“Maybe there are front-line Jem’Hadar and second-class ones, but these seemed fairly incompetent by their normal standards,” the Andorian said. “Their attacks were ragged and uncoordinated. Their unit lacked cohesion and direction. It was as if they were suffering from some kind of illness.” Tony didn’t know what to make of that information, so he filed it away for future use.

Nik interrupted his thoughts, looking up expectantly from his work. “Ready, sir,” Nik said. “Give the word and I’ll open the door.”

“Okay everyone,” Tony said. “First Platoon will go in and secure the area on the other side of the door. Second Platoon will follow and hold the door from the inside. Third Platoon will wait out here and guard our egress.” He nodded at the chief and the door slid open with a heavy groan and a bang. Tony led First Platoon into a large room on the other side, obviously some kind of staging area. There were just a few Jem’Hadar and Cardassians guarding a door at the far end of the room, but a few phaser shots took care of them.

Once everyone was inside, Tony called together Nik and Asir and Asir’s platoon chief, Andre Flauhaut. The two pilots also joined them as they gathered around a computer console near the interior door. Tony said, “Nik, get our best code-cracker to work on getting into their computers and finding a floor plan to this place. Asir, each of your squads will be given an assignment. They are to make their way stealthily to a particular location and then back, avoiding detection and mapping out targets along the way. At their destinations they will place explosives at key points to disrupt shield controls, power grids, and weapons emplacements. We’ll determine what the targets are once we have a floor plan.”

Tony turned to Nik and Mark Wickham. “As for the three of us, we have a pre-selected target. We’ll be reconnoitering the command center.” Nik’s only reaction was raised eyebrows while Wickham’s face flushed with fear. The task would test them to their limits and would be the most dangerous of all the missions undertaken. The command center would likely have a heavy guard and would at least have soldiers coming and going constantly. Tony had decided that he couldn’t ask any of his soldiers to go; he had to do this himself—with the assistance of Nik and Wickham.

“Lieutenant, we have the floor plan,” Flauhaut announced. A young woman was standing in front of a Cardassian-style computer station, intent on her work of breaking into the base’s computer system. Tony and the others moved beside her to look at the display. He’d never been a whiz with languages and while the universal translator took care of any conversations he’d had to have in the past, Tony just could not read Cardassian. “Translate it for everyone,” he said, trying to give the impression that his concern was for any others who might not be able to read the script. Martinez didn’t want his men to lose faith in him, to find a flaw in his abilities and thus to lose confidence in him.

Tony knew his own flaws only too well—his tendency to rush in before planning, his lack of facility with languages, the desire to be friends with his Marines rather than a properly aloof commander. And in his desire to overcome those flaws—which ironically none of his superiors or subordinates saw in him—he almost overcompensated for it in the other direction. He forced himself to stop and consider before acting and he kept himself so separated from the men that they sometimes feared he was angry or disappointed in them. And while he studied and studied, his brain just could not seem to retain the completely alien concepts embodied in Cardassian or Dominion or Klingon or Romulan or any other non-human language.

The young Marine obliged Tony’s command and began pointing out features on the map. “There are eight levels. The top level contains various sensors, weapons emplacements, launch bays, and support equipment. The second level down has fabrication shops, training facilities, an auxiliary launch bay, and—I believe—storerooms; they aren’t clearly labeled. The next five levels are strictly living quarters. The sixth level contains various offices and control rooms, including the central command center”—They all looked meaningfully at the trio who were pledged to go down into that hornet’s nest—“and the seventh level is devoted to storage and maintenance of ground vehicles, as well as the main entrance. The eighth level is below ground and has the generators. This back entrance is here, about a kilometer from the main installation. A tunnel connects it to the fourth level from the top.”

“There’s nothing lower than the eighth level?” Tony asked. It seemed unusual for the base to be so compact and contained. Most Cardassian base designs he had studied usually put several levels below ground to keep the really sensitive and dangerous items out of the way and secure.

“Not according to this map, sir,” the Marine replied. “But then this computer station may not be cleared to access sensitive data.”

They would have to go with the information available then and hope that nothing too important was kept below level eight. Tony ordered the map downloaded to a tricorder and sent Wickham outside to transmit a current mission report and the data to division headquarters. Meanwhile, he and his senior officers carefully studied the map, deciding how best to move about the base undetected and what exact targets to hit.

“There’s no way around it, Lieutenant,” Nik finally said. “There’s too few of us, too many targets, and not enough time for us to hit everything. We have to prioritize.”

“You’re right, of course,” Tony replied. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and blew it out all at once. He pointed at the map display as he issued orders. “Okay, Alpha Squad will head up to the top level and plant charges on the shield generators. Bravo Squad will head down to level eight and do the same to the power systems. Charlie will go to the primary hangar bay and disable as many ships as possible. Delta will do the same to the secondary bay. Echo will plant breaching charges on the front door. We’ll use double-system fuses—set them to go off at either a comm signal or three hours from now, whichever comes first.” He looked at the time to see when that would be and was surprised that it was 0943. It had been only about three hours since they had beamed onto the mountaintop.

He continued his orders to the squad leaders now gathered around him. “You have ten minutes to get familiar with the map. Make use of secondary corridors, access tunnels, turbolift shafts, and whatever else to avoid contact. Your first priority is to avoid detection, even if it means abandoning your target. We don’t want the Dominion to know we’re playing in their sandbox just yet.” The Marines all chuckled at the lieutenant’s attempt at bravado and then set about their planning.

“Lieutenant, what about us?” asked the temporarily forgotten Lt. Becca Cuddihy. The two pilots stood nearby trying not to feel like the outsiders they were, and Becca, at least, wanting to take part. Martinez sympathized with their plight, but the mission was too important to jeopardize by bringing amateurs along.

“You’ll stay here with Second Platoon and hold this room,” he said with finality.

Becca shook her head as he spoke and then replied, “Sir, I won’t stay behind. I want to help. I can be an asset to your mission. I can move just as stealthily as the rest of you. Remember, every Marine a rifleman.” Her co-pilot reached out as if to restrain her, but she brushed him off angrily and set her face in defiance. Technically, Tony could issue her a direct order and expect the lieutenant to follow it, but he hesitated. Having a fourth member of his team would mean a fourth pair of eyes and another phaser to cover their backs. She seemed to be a competent Marine, fighting with valor in their previous actions in the valley, yet keeping her head down and letting the recon Marines do what she couldn’t do when that was necessary.

He made a snap decision—giving in to his own perceived flaws—and went with his gut. “Okay, Lieutenant. You’re with my team. Keep your head down and think stealth. Don’t get us killed.” He turned to the other pilot. “I trust you’ll follow my orders and stay here with Second Platoon.”

“Oh, yes sir,” Rich answered. “I know my limitations.” He glared at Becca, but she was studiously ignoring him, checking her hand phaser’s power charge.

 

Level 5
Dominion Garrison
1020 hours

Tony carefully poked his head out of the ventilation shaft and looked down the corridor. The Jem’Hadar patrol had rounded the corner, but he could still hear them arguing. He wondered at that; all the intelligence he’d seen said the Jem’Hadar were intensely disciplined and controlled. Such behavior wasn’t consistent with that assessment.

Edging himself head first over the edge of shaft high up on the wall, Tony grabbed the side and flipped over to land neatly on his feet. He immediately brought his weapon up to cover the hallway as Nik, Becca, and then Mark dropped down behind him. Unfortunately, the stocky Wickham’s entrance was less than graceful, as he tumbled awkwardly from the opening. “Sorry,” he whispered sheepishly.

They stood still for a few minutes, making sure no one heard the fall. Tony sent a harsh glare at Wickham, conveying that he was not pleased, but Mark’s noisy entrance hadn’t seemed to cause any harm. He turned to Nik who had his tricorder ready. “What’s in these rooms?” he asked, pointing at the three large doors in the corridor. Their target was still another floor below them, but for some reason Tony’s curiosity was piqued.

“The map doesn’t say,” Nik replied. “But they’re fairly large and against the outer walls of the garrison. Passive sensors show some strange readings.” He frowned at the little machine, his expression revealing that he wanted to turn on the active sensors to take the guesswork out of his scans. But they both knew that any hint of tricorder activity on the base’s internal sensors would set off every alarm and bring hundreds of enemy troops running.

“Are there Jem’Hadar or Cardassian life signs in them?” Tony asked.

“Nooo,” Nik said, drawing out the word. “But it might be some kind of life sign—maybe animals or something higher.”

Tony was tempted to just leave the rooms and head for their primary target, but he had a feeling about this place. The compulsion to see what was inside was too strong to ignore. Was it a spiritual message or intuition or something else? He didn’t know, but then he’d never had a feeling like this this strong before.

“I want to go in and check them out before we head on to the command center. Get on either side of the door,” he ordered. Wickham huddled behind Nik and Becca took up position behind Tony. Nik, a good and experienced Marine, didn’t object, but he did raise an eyebrow at the odd orders. What if there was a squad of Jem’Hadar in the room, or worse? In preparation, he grabbed a photon grenade from his harness and held it ready to toss.

When all was in place, Tony slapped the door control. The door hissed into the wall and he waited for a moment to see if anything happened. He quickly poked his head around the edge of the entrance and pulled it back. His first impression was that the room was completely dark, but then he realized that he had seen some small movement in the room, a kind of scurrying. Touching a control on his uniform arm, he motioned to his team to stay back. He lowered himself almost to floor level, and he popped his head around the corner and back again. No sense getting your head shot off because you tried the same trick twice in the same location.

This time, his helmet’s visor was set to night vision and freeze frame. The tableau of the darkened room was frozen in detail on his visor and he suddenly understood. Standing up Tony motioned his team to follow and he moved carefully into the large room, like a cargo hold on a starship. He found the light controls just inside the door and tapped them on.

As the overhead light sources glowed into life, the rest of the team gasped at the sight. Dozens of emaciated and ill-treated natives of Callessus sat huddled against each other throughout the crowded room. Some crouched away in fear of the newcomers, while others—too weak or too sick to care—simply lay where they were, staring with dull eyes.

“Nik, stand guard outside. I don’t think there are door controls in here, so close the door, go back up into the ventilation shaft, and wait for a double-click on the Alpha-Gamma frequency,” Tony ordered. It was a little-used subspace frequency, unsuitable for voice communications. Hopefully, it would be so far outside the normal range that the base’s internal sensors would not be tuned to detect it.

As soon as Nik had gone, Tony reached up and removed the helmet masking his face. “I’m not a Jem’Hadar or Cardassian. We’re not from the Dominion. We’re Federation Starfleet, here to fight the Dominion. Do you understand me?”

From across the room, a voice called out, “Tony! Tony, it is me.” Looking into the crowd, he saw a lone figure edging his way excitedly across the room. “It is me. Brrton.” The young man from the village were Tony’s company had fought the Dominion three weeks earlier was thinner than he remembered, but looked healthy enough considering where he was.

“Brrton—The last time I saw you, you were headed out of that town to catch up with your people. What happened?”

The Callessian still had the same energy that Tony recalled from their previous encounter. “I caught up with the people, but soon after, a group of Dominions stopped us and forced us to come here. There are many others of my people being held in this place. I heard one of them say we are last-defense shields.”

Becca piped up now. “That agrees with my scans, Lieutenant. Just before I was shot down we showed hundreds of natives being held in compartments just inside the outer walls of the garrison.”

“What do we do now?” asked Wickham, voicing the question on all of their minds. On the one hand, Tony didn’t want to jeopardize his mission of destroying the command center, but on the other, he couldn’t just leave these people here to be slaughtered in the final assault. Yet if he let them out of their cells where would they go? He would be disobeying his own order to put stealth ahead of all other mission considerations.

“Brrton, I’m going to do my best to save as many of your people as possible,” he finally said. Turning to Wickham, “Mark, I want you to lead all of these people back along our escape route and have Bezsh send a squad to lead them down the valley.”

Tony returned his attention to Brrton. “It is imperative that these people remain calm and—above all—quiet when they leave this room. If the Dominion were to detect our presence here, all of us would be killed.” Martinez caught Brrton’s eyes and looked meaningfully into them to convey the seriousness of what he was saying. Brrton considered for a moment. “I will relay your words to them. And thank you for once again risking your life for us.” Brrton turned back to his people and started getting them into motion, motivating with the hope of freedom.

Wickham caught Tony’s sleeve and pulled him aside. “Sir, there must be dozens of people in this room alone. Some of them are just children and then there’s the elderly and the injured. How are we supposed to get them through the ventilation shaft and service corridors and up the ladders?”

That was indeed a thorny problem. The journey had been difficult enough for seasoned Marines to make without being discovered. Now he was going to ask hundreds of civilians to do the same thing. It was madness and irrational, but it was the right thing to do.

After Nik had been signaled to let them out of the room, and he’d been informed of the plan—to which he also voiced the same objections—Brrton and Tony had visited the three other holding cells in the corridor to explain the plan to the captives. From Becca’s and Brrton’s accounts, Tony knew that there must be many more captives being held in the garrison, but their only hope was to be discovered by other Marines who would make the same choices that Tony did. He just couldn’t take the risk of trying to go to every level in the building himself. Finally, when everyone was ready, the first groups were led out into the ventilation shaft. Two hale and healthy—relatively speaking for people kept in such poor conditions—natives were assigned for every sick or elderly person. It seemed to take forever, and in reality it took nearly an hour for everyone to make it into the escape route. Twice they’d had to stop abruptly and hide when groups of Jem’Hadar and Cardassians came through, but none of them bothered to check on the prisoners. Tony didn’t know if he should be grateful for the uncaring neglect showed by the enemy—at least it would be their downfall.

Finally, everyone was gone, leaving only Tony, Nik, and Becca standing in the corridor with Brrton. “Once again, Tony Martinez, I am in your debt. My people will remember your valor and honor.” Taking in the three of them, he added, “We will remember the valor and honor of all from the Federation.” With a final handshake, he clambered into the shaft and pulled the cover shut behind him.

Tony turned to his two remaining team members, “Now that we’re an hour behind schedule, let’s go. We have less than two hours to plant the explosives and get out.”

 

Command Center
Dominion Garrison
1140 hours

The Vorta, Dahltenn, paced up and down in the command room, stealing glances at the Jem’Hadar standing guard by the doors. To the untrained observer, they appeared the same as always—passive, unmoving, at the ready. But to Dahltenn’s experienced eye, they looked restless, shifting from foot to foot, eyes darting about, their fingers nervously twitching near their weapons. It was the sign of increasing ketracel-white withdrawal.

Dahltenn had ordered restricted rations of white and sent out an emergency, highly encoded call to the Dominion for reinforcements, but above all more white. He only hoped that it arrived in time. The white, that is, because he’d rather be taken prisoner by the Federation than face thousands of raving mad, berserking Jem’Hadar.

At least the walls had stopped shaking so much. The Federation had scaled back its artillery bombardment greatly, probably because they had discovered his defense tactic of putting the natives in the walls of the garrison. It was an inspired thought, worthy of the Founders themselves, he thought, ruthless while playing on the weaknesses of his enemies. The lessening of the attack had allowed the shield generators to build their energy levels back up until they were almost at full power again. The Vorta was beginning to hope that he might indeed survive and even win this battle. If only the blasted white would arrive!

“Telakat,” he called out. The Cardassian aide approached; his bearing wasn’t enthusiastic enough for Dahltenn’s taste. That one would be bear watching. “What is the status of our raiding parties that got out through the tunnels?”

Telakat briefly considered ignoring the contemptible Vorta, but the extreme danger inherent in that act of disobedience impelled him otherwise. Instead he replied laconically, “Almost all of them have ceased to operate as effective combat units according to our latest intelligence. Special units have been assigned to hunt them down, and while the enemy is still taking some losses in the rear area, they seem to have it under control. The good news is that the Federation appears to have had to dedicate many front-line troops to rear area security.” Under his breath, he added, “Not that it does us any good bottled up in here.”

“My hearing is still quite good, Glinn Telakat,” Dahltenn said, his eyes narrowing. “Insubordination is not one trait that you would do well to emulate in your unlamented former gul. You may return to your work,” he finished dangerously.

Telakat turned back to his computer console, berating himself for the undisciplined remark. He needed to stay in Dahltenn’s confidence a little longer—one careless slip-up could ruin everything. Ever since Gul Madrel’s death several days earlier, Telakat had taken his last order to heart and contacted every commander of the Cardassian units in the garrison. There were at least six thousand Cardassians left alive, half of their original number, and they had decided that the best chance for victory depended on them getting out of the garrison, away from the soon-to-explode Jem’Hadar and into the surrounding forest where they could form a hit-and-run guerilla force until strong reinforcements arrived. They would abandon their erstwhile allies for the good of the greater good and because they all despised Dahltenn. Aside from the Vorta’s obnoxious behavior, he had shown himself to be a militarily incompetent leader.

Telakat had already been working hard to get the demoralized Cardassians to work together in solving their problem rather than trying to desert on their own—like the fighter that had taken off earlier in the day—which would ensure their defeat. They had to work together or die separately.

In order for his plan to be effective, the Cardassian units would have to slip away without being detected by the Jem’Hadar, who remained in large numbers in the garrison. So Telakat had spent the morning fiddling with the duty rosters, putting all-Cardassian units on duty tonight so that they could cover the tracks of the soldiers who would sneak out unseen through the hidden rear entrance in the mountains. And so far, that entrance had escaped detection by the enemy as well. At least, that’s what the intelligence team was telling him.

 

Outside the Command Center
1220 hours

Becca kept sneaking looks out into the hallway, watching the four Jem’Hadar standing guard outside the entrance to the command center. They hadn’t moved in the minutes since the three Marines had arrived, but she knew that could change at the slightest provocation. And several times the Marines had had to stop working and conceal themselves from soldiers heading to and from the command center.

Meanwhile, Tony and Nik worked quickly and quietly inside the maintenance shaft. They had maneuvered their way into position here, taking precious minutes to make their moves as stealthily as possible.

Becca had been terrified the entire time, but had worked hard at not showing it. From the moment she had demanded to be brought along into the base, she had doubted the impulse. Why had she insisted she be allowed to help? She wasn’t a recon Marine. She wasn’t trained for this. Even more perplexing was why Martinez had allowed it. With time to think about her actions, Becca had decided that perhaps her demand was motivated by her own self-doubt, and a desire to regain her self-confidence. First, she had been stricken by her failure to prevent the destruction of the Minotaur. Then she had been knocked out of the sky, not by a superior enemy in a dogfight, but by a collision with another ship—perhaps a slap at her piloting skills. Her self-confidence had been badly shaken and she’d made a snap decision to compensate—or perhaps to punish herself. Was it a suicidal impulse? She honestly couldn’t tell. In any case, now that she’d come this far with Tony and Nik, she knew that any such impulse was long gone. Her primary focus now was to not do anything to get them all killed.

She couldn’t believe that they hadn’t been discovered yet, despite their precautions. Five teams of Marines and hundreds of former captives were scuttling about in the base and none of them had yet been discovered—at least no alarm had been raised if they had. Why were the Jem’Hadar and Cardassians so inept? Could the battlefield losses have been so unsettling? Was the constant bombardment so distracting?

When the team had arrived on this level, Nik had determined that the command center was too well guarded and well shielded for them to be able to sneak in and plant explosives. Instead, he’d found this maintenance bay and devised a plan to set charges on the electro-plasma flow capacitor. The device was a sort of energy storage device that acted as a battery to run all of the critical equipment in case of a power failure. Because of the enormous energy stored inside and the potential for disaster in case of a leak, it was heavily shielded. But, Nik had said, a shaped charged placed at the right spot would crack the shielding and set off a catastrophic failure that would destroy half the level, and—if it didn’t destroy the bunker-like command center—cause every console in the place to overload, effectively putting it out of business.

“We’re just about done here,” Nik finally said.

Tony checked the clock set into his uniform arm. “Good, because we’ve got a little over an hour to get out before the charges go off.”

Becca looked out into the corridor again to make sure the guards were still in place. She jolted to full alertness when she saw they were gone. “The guards are gone!” she whispered loudly at Tony.

He scrambled across the room to edge up beside Becca and glance out quickly, looking both ways down the corridor. “Maybe they went into the command center,” he offered. “In any case, they didn’t walk past you.”

“Unless they were shrouded,” she added. He felt a shiver go up his spine. If they had shrouded, the Jem’Hadar could be standing next to him right now and he wouldn’t know it. If so, he was as good as dead.

“Nik, pack up. We’ve got to go now!” They carefully made their way back into the maintenance tunnel. They traveled through three junction points and four tunnels before reaching the vertical shaft that would take them up to the next level. As they started for the ladder, a wailing alarm nearly made them jump out of their skin.

“That’s it. Someone’s been detected,” Tony said. Nik leapt for the first rung of the ladder and began climbing swiftly, Becca right behind and Tony bringing up the rear. They had to return to the “back door” fast before they found thousands of Jem’Hadar and Cardassian soldiers blocking their way. At first, Tony half-hoped that someone else had tripped the alarm, but then he felt guilty. He told himself that he shouldn’t wish that on anyone else since the offending team was likely to be cut to shreds.

He imagined what was happening elsewhere in the base even now; at the “back door,” Beszh would be bringing the two platoons to full readiness, preparing to hold the entrance against attacks from within and without and signaling division headquarters for further orders. The sabotage teams should have returned from their missions by now, too, but if not they would be dropping whatever they were doing and racing back to the “door,” just as Tony’s team was doing. Meanwhile, Cardassians and Jem’Hadar would be boiling out of their barracks and other areas to search for whomever had the audacity to penetrate their sanctuary.

As he climbed to the fifth level in the dimly lit and dusty shaft, Tony listened for any sign that they had been discovered. He imagined he heard the thud of booted feet over his head and half expected to feel the searing touch of a Jem’Hadar or Cardassian disruptor burn into his skin at any moment. The anticipation was so real that his skin began to crawl as he waited for it.

Finally, they reached the fifth level and they began to crawl down a low access tunnel. Tony whispered loudly to Nik who was crawling in front. “Watch for booby traps that are set when the base is at high alert.” Normally, booby traps in a regular maintenance bay would be inadvisable—no sense killing clumsy or unlucky engineers—but at high alert these tunnels would likely be deserted of anyone but someone sneaking around the base—that is, people you don’t mind getting killed.

At the end of the tunnel, Tony crawled out behind Nik and Becca who were already standing in the tiny closet-like room. Nik was studying his tricorder. “There are four Jem’Hadar moving through the corridor outside. If we wait a couple of minutes, they should pass right by,” he whispered.

In a space hardly big enough for two people, the three of them stood pressed in on each other, weapons at the ready. Nik continued to watch his tricorder display, following the movement of the soldiers down the corridor. If they stopped to check this room….

Tony couldn’t help but notice Becca in the close quarters. He could feel her heart beating in a rapid staccato through his arm and see a line of sweat trickle down her right temple. For one insane moment he had an impulse to put his arm around her in a protective embrace. He mentally shook himself—nowadays men and women were supposed to be equal and no preference was given, but Tony couldn’t shake the ingrained and natural impulse of a man to be protective of a woman in his care. He never said this to anyone, but that’s why he always had reservations about humanoid women serving in his units; the human men often couldn’t overcome their natural impulse toward protection, sometimes to the detriment of the mission.

Nik caught Tony’s eye and nodded that the coast was clear. He hit the control for the door and it slid open. Edging cautiously into the corridor they began to make their way to the ventilation shaft that would take them to the ladder up to level four where the tunnel to the back door was.

Several times they had to quickly backtrack or even duck into luckily unoccupied rooms to avoid roving groups of soldiers. Since this level was mostly living quarters, Tony didn’t expect to find too many people here during an alert, but he wanted to keep moving quickly because eventually their luck would run out and some patrol would stumble on them.

“Here’s the ventilation shaft,” Nik said. They had arrived back at the shaft outside the rooms from which they had liberated the Callessians. Maybe, Tony thought, the Dominion had discovered them missing, in which case they would be looking for half-starved civilians and not trained Marines. It was a slim hope, and it would not do to count on it, but he tucked the thought away nonetheless.

After another ten minutes of crawling and then a quick climb up another ladder and then more crawling, the three Marines found themselves near the entrance to the tunnel that would lead to freedom. The kilometer-long tunnel had emptied into a standard corridor and would have been unremarkable to anyone approaching it from this side, except for being heavily armored. When they’d come in, they found no one near it, but now—as seen from the safety of a nearby unoccupied storage room—it looked like a kicked-over hornet’s nest. Jem’Hadar hurried into the tunnel in a steady stream and Tony could only imagine that they were engaged in a furious fight with his Marines at the other end.

Becca sat down with a tired thump on the edge of a desk. Her shoulders slumped forward with fatigue and she leaned on the desk as if it were an effort just to keep from falling over. “Now what do we do?” she asked. “We can’t just run into the tunnel with them and there’s no other way out.”

Tony looked at the time again—1316 hours. In less than a half hour, the charges would begin to go off. “We can wait until the charges go. In the darkness and confusion, we might be able to slip into the tunnel unnoticed,” he began.

“And if the Jem’Hadar don’t have any kind of night vision or sense of smell and we get past them, by some miracle, we have to trust our own troops not to shoot us in the confusion,” Nik replied. “Sorry, Lieutenant, but I don’t think it’s a viable plan.”

“Is there another way out?” Becca asked.

Nik rubbed his chin, now studded with gray and black stubble. “Well, there’s the main entrance three levels below us—not much better—and those tunnels the Dominion dug to come under our regiments but those are at least four levels below us and caved in.”

“How about the hangar bays?” Excitement came into Becca’s eyes and a new energy seemed to straighten her spine and shoulders.

“I suppose we could climb down…” Nik began dubiously.

“No, Chief,” Tony said, smiling as he caught onto Becca’s train of thought. “We won’t have to climb. We have one of the best pilots in the fleet with us. We’ll fly out in one of the Cardassians’ own ships.” Becca looked gratefully at Tony for the expansive compliment. There was no way for him to know how good of a pilot she was; in fact, his only knowledge of her flying skills was that she had crash-landed her ship just a few hours before. She could be a terrible pilot. But the worst fleet pilot was a better pilot than Tony or Nik and that’s what counted now.

“We have only 20 minutes or so to climb two levels to get to that launch bay we saw from the valley,” Nik added. He had already stood up and shouldered his rifle, ready to move out.

“Then let’s not waste any more time,” Tony said. “Move out.”

 

Level 2 – Auxiliary Launch Bay
Dominion Garrison
1338 Hours

En route to the hangar, Tony had risked signaling Bezsh to let him know his plan for getting out of the base. Bezsh had informed him that all of the other teams, except for Bravo Squad, had returned and that the freed captives had been moved far down the valley, away from the fight where they could safely be retrieved later. Bravo Squad had been sent on the longest journey of all the teams, having to go all the way down to the eighth level to wire the power systems. Tony surmised that they had set off the alarm somehow, maybe while they were returning to the “back door.” In any case, there had been no contact from them at all. The thought caused a pang of sorrow in Tony’s chest. He’d worked closely with First Platoon’s Bravo Squad during this campaign and had been close to some of the Marines, including young Jaime Heredia who he’d taken under his wing like a younger brother, and the hulking Bel Kibish, the Brikar, whose wry sense of humor had been a welcome presence in the company. Tony said a quick prayer for their safety and necessarily pushed their fate from his mind.

The journey to the hangar had been quick and intense. At one point, they had literally almost run into the arms of a group of Cardassians. Recovering first, Tony’s team had cut the enemy down where they stood, but the phaser fire attracted unfriendly attention and they’d been trying to elude their pursuers ever since.

Now they stood just outside an entrance to the small hangar bay’s control room. Tony held up three fingers, counted down, and slapped the door control. Tony and Nik stuck their weapons through the door and cut down the two technicians standing inside.

As they moved inside and stepped over the bodies, Becca marveled at how they could just ignore the so-recently living Cardassians whose blood was pooling at their feet. It was one thing to shoot other fighters out of the sky or blast tanks on the ground—it was almost impersonal because it seemed like you were only destroying machines—but in such close quarters where you could see their eyes and hear their screams of agony, the taking of life revolted her to the core. Becca hoped she’d never see—or do—so much killing that she would treat it so casually.

Nik was already examining the controls as she peered down into the bay. A cargo shuttle, a fighter, and some type of small personnel shuttle sat in ready spots before the closed hangar door. “We’ll take the small shuttle,” she announced, “assuming that it’s in working condition.”

“What do you mean?” Tony asked. He was suddenly alarmed at the thought that this whole trip here could have been for nothing.

“I mean as long they’re not doing maintenance on it or something,” Becca replied. “It looks like all the access panels are on, so that’s a good sign. Of course, you’ll need to remove whatever explosives your team attached to it.”

“Don’t worry,” Tony replied as he tapped on the tricorder built into the sleeve of his body armor. “I’m sending a signal right now that will disable the fuses on the charges in this hangar.”

Nik interrupted, pointing at one of the consoles. “My Cardassian isn’t all that good, but I think that this is the control for the door.”

“We shouldn’t open it yet,” Becca warned. “If they see it opening on a status panel in the command center, they can probably override it from there.”

“We can’t wait too long,” Tony answered, looking once again at the time. “The charges will go off in less than two minutes and then there’ll be no power to open it.” He thought for a moment and then looked hard at Nik. “Chief, we’ll go prep the shuttle. Wait until 20 seconds before the charges are programmed to go off and then open the door.” Tony didn’t like splitting up the team for any reason, especially now that the whole base was abuzz, but there was no help for it. And he didn’t want to leave the inexperienced pilot to fend for herself. Or maybe it was that protection impulse again.

“Aye, sir,” Nik replied. “Better get going then.” The look in his eyes as Tony turned to climb down the ladder into the bay told the lieutenant that Nik understood his warring feelings and that he could take care of himself.

They sprinted across the hangar and Becca palmed the door control while Tony stripped the explosive charge from the underside of the vehicle—just where they were trained to place it, he thought proudly—before they scampered inside. He looked at the timer again. Thirty seconds. Becca was already starting up the engines when Tony heard the sound of weapons firing outside in the hangar.

Spinning on his heel to look out the cockpit window, he saw weapons fire lighting up the control room just as the hangar door began to slide open. “Nik!” Tony yelled as he ran for the door.

“Tony, wait!” Becca reached for him unsuccessfully as he bounded out the door. “He’s buying us time!”

But he couldn’t leave him behind. Nik was his friend, confidante, mentor, confessor, and even more—a brother Marine. For centuries, that bond had meant that you never left a brother behind on the field of battle and so too he couldn’t leave Nik—old enough to be his father, but as close as a brother.

The windows in the control room shattered out into the launch bay and a body came hurtling through the air, falling the four meters to the floor, amidst the shower of transparent aluminum. As he reached Nik’s side and began to fire upward at the advancing attackers, the whole building shook from a series of explosions that ripped through it from every direction. The overhead lights went out abruptly, but the sunlight streaming in through the half-open door was enough to illuminate the room.

He grabbed Nik’s limp body by the equipment harness and dragged him across the floor to the shuttle, firing back at anybody who remained in the control room. A few stray return shots ricocheted off the fighter as he backed under its wing. Becca was standing in the shuttlecraft’s door and helped Tony pull Nik inside. She jumped into the pilot’s chair and stabbed the controls.

The shuttle leapt into the air and rocketed out through the opening, barely clearing the door that had only retracted halfway into the ceiling.

Tony knelt by Nik, frantically working with his small personal medkit to stabilize his friend’s vital signs and apply first aid to the three disruptor blasts on his arm and torso. The medical tricorder showed massive injuries and simply recommended immediate transport to a hospital. According to the vital signs indicator, Nik was fading fast.

“Don’t die, Nik. Don’t die,” Tony repeated over and over. His vision blurred as tears of anger and sorrow and frustration threatened to spill over. “Just a few minutes and we’ll have help for you.” He looked up briefly to see how far they actually were from help.

“What are you doing?!” he yelled at Becca. “Why aren’t you heading for the firebase?” The shuttle was flying low down the valley in the opposite direction from the battlefield, and the division, and medical help.

“We can’t exactly go flying around a hot battlefield in an enemy shuttlecraft,” Becca said, a little more harshly than she intended. She, too, was shaken by the chief’s condition. He looked bad and it was hard to believe that anyone could survive the punishment he had taken. Plus, back in her element, she naturally took command. “I’ll put us down outside this valley and we’ll signal for extraction.”

Mollified for the moment by the logic of Becca’s decision, Tony returned his attention to Nik who had regained consciousness briefly. “Lieutenant,” he whispered barely loud enough for Tony to hear without straining. “We got away safely.” It was both a question and statement of fact.

“Yes, chief.” Tony tried to gather himself together for Nik’s sake. “We’re safely away and we’ll have you in a medical bay in no time.”

Nik groaned mightily, pain shooting across his face, his limbs going rigid in agony. When he’d recovered sufficiently, he said, “I don’t think I’m coming home from this one, sir.” He coughed up some blood and even that wracked him with pain. “Please tell my wife and my daughters that I’m sorry.”

The tears returned to Tony’s eyes as he thought of the chief’s family, his loving wife and two teenage daughters. “Don’t worry, chief. They’ll be very proud of you. You’re their hero; you always have been and they’ve known it for a long time. They know that every time you go out, that they are the reason you go and the reason you come back.”

“But this time, I’m not coming back to them,” the older man said almost petulantly. Tears had started to stream from his eyes as well now.

“It’s okay, Nik. I’ll make sure they’re okay. I promise that I’ll take care of them. And I’ll go and personally tell them of your bravery and of your friendship and your valor. That you gave all you had so that others might be free.”

Nik reached out a bloody hand to grasp Tony’s shoulder in what should have been a bone-crushing grip, but was now light as a feather. “You have been a … good commanding officer, a good Marine, … and a good friend.” Each word came slowly now, painfully. “Don’t blame … yourself. … Against … the odds … you … succeeded. … I am … proud … to have … served … with you. ….” His voice faded off at the end and the medical tricorder began beeping madly. It told Tony what he already knew—that his friend, Chief Petty Officer Vanya “Nik” Nikodouris had gone.

Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty One
Be notified when a new chapter is added.
Back to Top
Federation Fan Fiction