” So, if you meet me, have some courtesy
Have some sympathy and some taste
Use all your well-learned politesse
Or I’ll lay your soul to waste.”

Sympathy for the Devil – Jagger / Richards (1968)

All around, the swirling, chaotic mélange of lethal energies caressed the fragile hull of the Starfleet Type – 9 Shuttlecraft – “Chippewa”, threatening to destroy it’s intrepid, lonely form – should it ever contrive of a way to defeat the concentric layers of field – enclosure or the security of the Trillium – composite hull plating.

The shuttlecraft hung motionless amongst the writhing, endless sepia – hued storm front that raged eternal within the anomaly known as “Underspace, bright staccato stabs of random lightning playing across the face of the lone – occupant – all alone at a veritable ‘hells – gate’, like a modern-day David – defiant in the face of a mighty Goliath.

Before the tiny Federation craft, the Hull of the Galor – Class Cruiser “Verran” – loomed large. The disparity between size and the destructive capability of the respective vessels spoke volumes about the power dynamic that existed between these two castaways as they faced off across the madness of the Labyrinth.

“This is the Starfleet Shuttlecraft “Chippewa” to the Commander of the “Verran.” Lieutenant Commander Samantha Hyland sent.

Sam’s mouth was dry as she made her opening gambit in what could very well prove to be the most desperate game of her life. At least, she reasoned dryly, the apparition of her late father had (thankfully) not chosen to grace itself with its presence – spouting cryptic entreaties and distracting her from the clear and present danger posed by the True Way warship, that filled the entire forward view through the cockpit canopy.

Long seconds passed. To Sam, they seemed to stretch on into eternity – every moment that passed, she fully expected the Galor to open up with her formidable weaponry and reduce her tiny shuttle to component atoms and dust.

Finally, a voice insinuated itself over the open comm-channel in response.

“Lieutenant Commander Hyland of the USS Savannah, I presume?” The Captain of the “Verran” responded, a tinge of amusement and distain in his inflection. “I was wondering when you may come to call upon me.”

Sam took a deep breath and responded in kind.

“I take it that this is Gul Yomat Ghallir?’ Sam hoped that her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

“Which answers the question of whether Praetor Irin is alive and well.” The renegade True Way Gul intoned thoughtfully. “No matter, in any case Lieutenant Commander – I assume that you didn’t come all of this way to chat about the health of my former crewman.”

Sam didn’t like the way that the Gul referred to her prisoner as “former”. She had been hoping that the Praetor might represent some form of leverage. Apparently, Gul Ghallir was not sentimental about his people.

“Praetor Irin is indeed well and under my custody.” Samantha confirmed, “And no – this is not a ‘social call’, as you put it, I am here with a proposition.”

With this Gul Ghallir barked with laughter and the sound of the Cardassian clapping his hands together was audible over the channel.

“Oh Commander Hyland!” The Gul responded with genuine amusement. “I was starting to get so dreadfully bored! I do declare that you are a most singularly interesting individual! I sit here with the power to destroy you ten times over and more – and you have the mendacity to sit before me with an offer of parlay! Capital! I am intrigued, pray do continue…?”

Sam didn’t need the obsequious overtures of this most dangerous Cardassian Terrorist to appreciate what dire peril she had placed herself in. The decision to come to face the Commander of the “Verran” alone had been two-fold.

Firstly, even in its stricken state – the more advanced Galor – Class Cruiser could easily destroy not only the Type – 9 Shuttlecraft but could also finish the job that it had started when it had fell upon the USS Savannah, before both craft had succumbed to the Anomaly and been dragged into the conduit of Underspace. There was no point needlessly putting her crew at any more risk than they were currently in. 

As Captain, the responsibility was hers and her alone.

The Second reason was that, in the scant information that Lieutenant T’Vran had managed to glean from the mind of Praetor Irin, during the interrogation afforded by the invasive mind – meld, Sam understood Gul Yomat Ghallir to be a risk taker, arrogant and self – assured of his own superiority. Sam was in dire need to the assistance of the one person who had sacrificed his reputation & career and dedicated his life to destroying the very institution that she represented.

Samantha Hyland was betting that by personally presenting herself and exposing herself to potential annihilation – such an act would pique the interest of the calculating True Way renegade and stay his hand – just long enough to be sure that some other (more nefarious) game was not afoot.

It was a hell of a gamble, and Sam had very few good cards left to play.

Location: Underspace / USS Savannah / The “O”- Bar / Deck 7

Stardate: 2401.7.13 / 20:22hrs (Shipboard Time)

Give that the USS Savannah was stranded, maybe forever, within a hellish null – dimension that threatened oblivion with every passing moment, the ever present specter of a roving ‘bubble’ of Tachyon – Radiation rolling through a compartment to turn its occupants into living – statues (or worse instant – octogenarians), the crew being corralled into the saucer – section for relative safety and the inconvenience of EPS power – rationing – all things considered Special Services Division Kennedy Zhao was having a reasonably good time.

The “O”-Bar had never been so busy.

As Kennedy’s grandmother had been so fond of saying “Shī bài shì chéng gōng zhī mǔ.” (失败是成功之母。- Failure is the mother of success). Wether she was talking about herself or just asserting the proverb ad nauseum – Grace liked that one and always took the compliment it implied.

The crew of the USS Savannah were young, nervous and needed to find solace and security in each other’s company. Kennedy Grace Zhao had not got to where she was in the hospitality – industry without knowing when to capitalize on the moment.

The petite Asian woman hummed to herself as she took inventory on a PADD and wandered through the Seven – Forward space, making sure everything was just so. It was just starting to get busy, and a couple of the Special Services Holograms were moving about the space – tending to the needs of the few customers that had already got off duty and tending the Bar.

Shifting from male to female to inter and onto whatever form that their programming sensed made their customers most at ease. Even Kennedy – who had programmed the subroutine in a movement of vivid clarity (and had raked in the cachet associated with that patent) was forced to admit that the aggregate effect could be a trifle disconcerting – when regarded at a remove. 

When you watched them over time, the SSH’s flowed like lava through Seven Forward – forming and re-forming in time to the social stratigraphy. 

Grace managed all shipboard Special Services with only the physical assistance of her assistant, Crewman Aldus Coe. The brunt of the ‘grunt’ work was performed by the SSH’s and sometimes Kennedy found the holographic host/hostesses more dependable than her carbon – based colleague.

Growing up on the other – side – of – the bar had given Kennedy a good nose for trouble and whilst Aldus did not give off any immediate signals that would alert her senses – he did score reasonably high on her “Bullshit-o-meter” and was never around when you bloody needed the man to be.

Still – you have to work with the tools that you are given, Kennedy shrugged and went back – of – house to check on the charging station and bring some more SSH’s on – line for the anticipated evening’s – rush.

She stopped and frowned – Two of the Mobile Emitters were missing from the SSH charging rack.

“That’s odd….” Kennedy Zhao muttered distracted. Maybe the missing emitters were in need of maintenance? She shook her head. She was a person that knew where every bottle, napkin, replicator program and countless other item of inventory was and accounted for.

“Aldus?” She called out in annoyance. Aldus Coe should have been here on duty when she arrived – but Kennedy had yet to see her elusive assistant. “Have there been any problems with the SSH units?” She called out – the last thing she needed was to be understaffed right now.

“God dammit, how many times do I have to tell people to close the goddamned door!?” She rolled her eyes and went to look in the storeroom for him, when she noticed that the door to the cold – storage unit had been left open again. With the ship already under power – rationing and priority allocation to the works to create new jury – rigged Deuterium Storage and processing infrastructure – Neva Vikander would be all over her ass for such any waste of precious power.

As Kennedy put her hand on the handle to close the door, she noticed something untoward inside. She opened the door further and her eyes opened even wider as her hand went to activate her commbadge.

“Zhao to Security….” She managed to say – before she was struck savagely from behind.

“I’m sorry Kennedy, I really, do…. did like you…..” Crewman Aldus Coe apologized without feeling as he hefted the unconscious woman into the cold – store and on top of the frozen – corpse that she had discovered there.

“No hard feelings I guess, although in a few minutes – that’s not really going to be a comfort for anybody aboard really.” The Saboteur shrugged as he closed the storeroom door.

Location: Underspace / Galor – Class Cruiser “Verran” / Bridge / Deck 1

Stardate: 2401.7.13 / 20:30hrs (Relative Time)

Gul Yomat Ghallir sat easily in the Command-chair on the bridge of the “Verran” and marveled at the bravado on display from the young Starfleet Officer who dared the might of his Warship with little more to protect her than a misplaced sense of who she though that he was.

Gul Yomat Ghallir was a zealot in the truest sense of the word.

Ghallir had ordered countless men and women to their deaths during the ill – fated debacle that was the Dominion War. He had stood by and watched those cowards in the Detapa – Council squander the strength of the Union when they had signed away other – men’s blood and honor on the travesty they called the Treaty of Bajor. Stood by until he could stand by no more and then he took the lives of former comrades, as he had seized this ship and took the first steps towards the establishment of the True Way.

To think that she could appeal to his ‘better – nature.’ Gul Yomat Ghallir wasn’t sure whether this Federation bitch was soft in the head or just plain stupid. However – did he sense some deeper ruse between her nascent appeal for détente? For now, he elected to humor this “Captain Hyland.”

“So, stop me if I’ve misunderstood?” Yomat sneered back at the attractive young officer on his viewscreen. “You wish me to just ‘give’ you a proportionate amount of the reaction – mass I require to run my own ship – based upon, what? Good – neighborliness? You – a Federation ship which I can wipe out of assistance without so much as a second thought? And exactly why would I even consider such a farcical notion Lieutenant Commander?”

“Because, currently, you have no need for the Deuterium.” Samantha nodded firmly, showing no signs of being intimidated – despite the grossly disproportionate odds she was facing. “Your Impulse Engines are crippled, and I’d wager that your Warp – Drive is similarly compromised. Our little “Present” saw to that I think – otherwise you would have powered them up and finished the job of destroying my ship already.”

Gul Ghallir pursed his thin – lips in annoyance. The ruse that the USS Savannah had played with the detonation of their ventral Torpedo – pod had indeed dealt his ship catastrophic damage and the brash young Starfleet Captain was correct in her estimation – not that Yomat was going to give her the satisfaction of acknowledging that fact.

He waived his hand airily, dismissing this last as trivial.

“Yes, well it was a mildly unpleasant setback, but repairs are currently underway.” Yomat lied easily. “Even if they were not – what would stop me from just plucking you from your little Shuttle and holding you ransom until your crew gave up control of your starship to me Commander Hyland?” The Gul smiled with all of the charm of a Bull – Shark. “I know humans, Commander, I have seen your weakness firsthand many times and know how to exploit your compassion. What is to stop me doing just that H’mmm?”

There was a pause and then Sam sent back.

“My First Officer is a Vulcan, Gul Ghallir.” Samantha shrugged differently, “You can take me aboard and torture me to your hearts content – but good luck appealing to Lieutenant T’Vran’s weak – emotional side.”

Gul Yomat Ghallir inclined his head, this insufferable human was starting to grow – upon him – despite his prejudices. He laughed without humor.

“No – I don’t suppose that she would, at that.” The Cardassian acknowledged and sat back in his chair. “In which case, Lieutenant Commander, pray continue and enlighten me as to why I should accept your proposed truce and assist the very ship I am sworn to destroy?” The Gul asked with a fair measure of false – bonhomie.

“Because if we don’t work together, were both doomed to destruction unless we find a way to escape this place.” Samantha countered flatly. “You’ve seen the extent of the debris field out there; you’ve seen the age of some of the ships that have foundered here, Gul Ghallir. Either we put aside our enmity, at least for the time being, and find a way to cooperate – or this place will become our graveyard too.”

Yomat Ghallir cut the audio feed momentarily and spoke aside to his Chief Engineer.

“Is what she proposes tenable?’ He asked guardedly, his back to the screen.

“It could be done my Gul.” Legate Miret ventured cautiously, “Certainly the damage to our own systems can only be undone with access to a drydock facility.”

Yomat nodded.

The Gul disliked being in the position of being dependent on anybody for survival, let alone at the mercy of a sworn enemy, but desperate times did, indeed, sometimes make for strange bedfellows. Besides, Lieutenant Commander Hyland knew nothing of his current state of reasoning.

Whilst the crew of the USS Savannah, doubtless due – in part – to their relative youth and inexperience, had only looked to protect themselves and find some way of escaping the Anomaly since being trapped here. But Yomat Ghallir was none of these things.

He had survived this long, not just through luck, but by knowing how to look for the advantage in every situation, having the daring to hold on when all – others lost hope and would gladly sacrifice everybody aboard his own ship if it meant that he could achieve his goal.

And the Anomaly had changed everything.

Whilst Hyland wallowed in weakness and tried to find a way out of the Anomaly, Gul Yomat Ghallir had seen that her own ship had been damaged, during his pursuit, and not by his own hostile fire. That suggested division aboard her ship. He was reasonably sure that the Starfleet Captain would eventually come to either treat with him or attempt to take what she needed by force. That she had chosen the former – told Yomat a lot about his opponent.

Whilst the USS Savannah desperately searched for a way home, the Gul had dispatched every probe he had onboard the “Verran” to search out the strange phenomena and find out what might lay at its peripheries – if it indeed had any.

What they returned with was a revelation.

When he had entered Underspace, Gul Ghallir had been engaged in an internecine – complicated plot to implicate the New Marquis in attacks on civilian vessels. This was part of a long – term strategy to force the Detapa council to respond – thus weakening the fragile state of peace that those traitors had carved out with the Federation. Eventually, not even their lapdogs the Obsidian Order would be able to protect them from the Central Command, once their weakness was made apparent.

A fragile, tenuous plan – but once (if nurtured to fruition) could conceivably see the Cardassian Union restored and the territory they were forced to so shamelessly cede in the Former DMZ restored in a new era of aggressive territorial expansionism and authoritarian rule.

But the discovery of what Hyland had called “Underspace” changed EVERYTHING, and the Starfleet idiot did not even have the whit or breadth of imagination to see what the Labyrinth actually meant to the known Galaxy as a sheer expression of POWER.

A POWER that would see the might of the Union restored. A POWER that would see the streets of Cardassian Prime run with the blood of the Detapa Traitors and their lackies. The POWER to send Cardassian War – Fleets almost anywhere in the 4 Quadrants (maybe even beyond?) and crush their enemies. With a POWER like this, Gul Yomat Ghallir and his forces could rule the very Galaxy itself!

But not from here. Not whilst he remained powerless.

He turned the audio feedback on.

“Very well Commander.” Yomat made a show of reasonableness. “Say I do choose to share our Deuterium supply with you, I refuse to give up this ship and put my people in your power as prisoners. I saw what you people are capable of during the Dominion War and I won’t let my crew suffer the same fate”

Hyland nodded and spoke.

“Your crew can remain aboard your ship Gul Ghallir, we will tether the “Verran” to the USS Savannah with our Tractor Beam, and you will do the same with your own. From our calculations, this will be sufficient for both ships to attempt the Event Horizon of the Anomaly with a reasonable chance of surviving to regain real – space.”

“You hold my hand and I hold yours.” Yomat sneered “A pretty proposition I’m sure Commander, until you get what you want from me and decide to let go your hand – stranding us here whilst you escape to safety.”

Samantha frowned, “I’m not you Gul Ghallir, I wouldn’t do that. However – I can see that I’m not going to win your trust – but you do seem like a man that appreciates insurance, so consider this. Your superior weapons will be pointing at the rear of my ship as we seek our way out – if you think I’m about to betray you – at least you have the satisfaction of knowing that will be the last thing I ever did, before you blow the USS Savannah to Kingdom – come.”

Yomat smiled – Hyland would rescue him and his ship. Together they would escape this purgatory, but then what?

“And when we are free, assuming this plan of your works?” The Gul smiled.

“Then I place you under arrest and turn you over to the Obsidian Order.” Samantha Hyland replied firmly.

The smile on Gul Yomat Ghallir’s face spread even further and (once again), Sam had the uncomfortable impression of being in the presence of something predatory.

“Commander Hyland. I accept your terms.”

Location: Underspace / USS Savannah / Brig / Deck 5

Stardate: 2401.7.13 / 21:32hrs (Shipboard Time)

Something was different.

Praetor Gomek Irin frowned and swung his long, thin legs round on his hard, thin cot and slowly rose to his feet.

Outside, in the reception area of the Brig – the Starfleet security Guard that sat at the control – desk had his head in his arms.

The Preator frowned even deeper and stepped closer to the containment field for a better view.

The guard was definitely alive, Gomek could see his chest rise up and down as he breathed, but the guard appeared motionless. From where he stood – he could not even see the other one that was supposed to hold vigil near the door.

Praetor Irin’s heart skipped a beat.

Gomek had almost dismissed the visitation of the Starfleet crewman, earlier that day, as the fanciful ravings of one of these typically soft – minded, delusional Human weaklings. But now, well, this?

Irin tentatively raised his index finger and gingerly advanced it towards the threshold of the containment field – sure that, at any moment, he would receive an unpleasant jolt and put this whole fantasy behind him.

His finger went straight through with no ill effect. The containment forcefield was down!

A nasty grin bisected the Cardassian prisoner’s thin features, and he stepped through from the cell, like an explorer setting foot on a virgin planet for the very first time.

Moving over to the unconscious guard, the Praetor quickly liberated the man’s sidearm and was about to take his Commbadge from his chest when he stopped – balancing the need to listen in on his pursuers against the reality that the device would quickly pinpoint his location to the Ships Computer.

Gomek noted that a half – eaten tray of food was near the recumbent Security officer and he realized that the Saboteur had been true to his word and that his captor’s food had been drugged.

From where he now stood the Praetor could now see the other guard, who lay motionless on the floor near the head – similarly overcome by some substance.

If he had any further doubts – they were soon dispelled for good as his eyes lighted on a small package that had been left on the desk that simply read “Wear Me!”

Gomek Irin carefully opened the box, and he frowned as he saw what was inside.

Then his smile returned as he realized what the object was and what its presence signified.

“Oh! VERY good, my traitorous friend! “Gomek chucked, “Very good indeed!”