“Deceivers are the most dangerous members of society. They trifle with the best affections of our nature, and violate the most sacred obligations.”

George Crabbe. 1834.

There was a space, within a space, that was not really a space at all – and in that space, a man sat in a room with no door.

By design, there was no real way of knowing how long he had been there. The space itself was blank and lacked any window – in addition to not having a door.

The dull, constant light shone at all times, from the same source in the ceiling. There was no tell – tale metronomic reference to mark the passage of time, beyond the meals that appeared by transporter each day and the rhythm of his own digestion and defecation of the same.

Gul Yomat Ghallir lay on the hard slab of cot and preoccupied himself with the familiar reassurance of starting at the blank ceiling of the cell, buried kilometers beneath the cold surface of the planetoid above, accessible only by transporter.

A security precaution that had once seemed so inviolable, but considering his recent sabbatical courtesy of the unprincipled Starfleet Intelligence Officer, Savak, one really did have to question why the Obsidian Order persisted with such vainglorious methods of incarceration, rather than just having him killed?

The True Way Terrorist leader smiled thinly to himself, the audacious conceit of convincing him that he had been infected with a synthetic nano-virus was, admittedly, masterfully effected (When in fact the Romulan/Vulcan Hybrid – mongrel had just infected him with a common pathogen that was quite survivable).

Yomat had to hand it to her, the woman really was a bitch. The Machiavellian part of his nature paid muted respect to the stratagem, however. It was gratifying to learn that some in Starfleet possessed the requisite clarity of purpose to take definitive steps to achieve a goal – without the hindrance of tedious morality.’

Gul Ghallir smiled again and filed that tidbit of information away for another time, you never knew what would prove useful in the future.

It may have seen supremely arch and overconfident that one of the Galaxy’s worst criminals was considering stratagems and machinations when he had just been returned to his cell mere days previously (the Obsidian Order Legate that had actually survived the engagement with the Vaadwaur fleet in the former DMZ, had been non-plussed to receive his prisoner back from Captain Shavda – another source of considerable amusement for Gul Ghallir), but Yomat Ghallir was a man utterly convinced of his own singular purpose and importance.

To Yomat’s mind, it was only a matter of one variable shifting in the presumed Galaxy outside of the confines of his cell and the Universe would, once more, provide him with the opportunity to venture forth and continue his work.

These thoughts could conceivably occupy months, years or decades – but as fortune had it, Yomat’s inner remonstrations were interrupted by the tell – tale blossom of bright energies that heralded the arrival of an unexpected visitor.

“Oh.” The captive sneered as the transporter beam receded and he was no longer alone in the cell.

“It’s you – how disappointing.”

The Chief Warden Legate Shamel Nogat tried his best to draw himself up and puff out his fractious – chest, but at the end of the day – both men remembered that the Starfleet spy had utterly humiliated Nogat when she had tricked her way into the cell, incapacitated the Legate and absconded with the only prisoner that this facility had been specially created to contain and hide away from the Galaxy.

For career – level fails, it really did ‘bury – the – needle’ and lend a whole new level of professional ineptitude and embarrassment, Yomat supposed.

“I’m glad that you’re seeming so at ease with your surroundings once more, Ghallir?” Legate Nogat enthused greasily, “Seeing as you will be enjoying them for some time to…..”

A significant silence perpetuated and eventually, Gul Ghallir frowned and peered over at the legate.

Legate Shamel Nogat’s mouth was working soundlessly, but no words seemed to be coming out.

The innate survival – instinct that had ensured that Yomat had survived countless engagements, ambushes and betrayals, told him that something was very, very wrong – and he was intrigued.

He sat up and peered closer at his Jailor.

Shamel’s pale, thin fingers were spasming, intermitted grasping at something intangible – a broken memory of movement.

That was when Gul Ghallir notice that a part of the collar of the Obsidian Order Officer’s uniform had incongruously extended into a sharp – ended spike and had pierced Shamel’s neck – just behind his ear.

A thin rivulet of blood ran down the Legate’s neck, as his fevered eyes seemed to be the only thing that could move.

Gul Yomat Ghallir smiled a thing, feral predatory smile and spoke aloud in recognition.

“A Shapeshifter!” Ghallir noted with some distinct distain. The Founders and their Dominion had been the sole reason why his people had capitulated at the end of the war – betraying their alliance with the High Command and seeing the rise of the weak and appeasing Detapa Council.

Gul Yomat Ghallir had no love for Shapeshifters.

Conceding recognition, the Legate’s Tunic seemed to melt and flow downwards to the floor, the garment taking on the aspect of a viscous and pliant semi – liquid that quickly reformed itself into an androgenous inter – being with black eyes that betrayed nothing and everyone at the same time.

“Greetings Gul Yomat Ghallir” The neutral – looking entity affected a small bow and regarded the prisoner with an appraising gaze, whilst all the wile a wry and self – satisfied smile warped it’s bland face.

“Gotta say….MASSIVE fan of your earlier work.” The Changeling grinned easily as Legate Nogat slumped bonelessly to the floor.

The strange being made a show of peering around the spartan – cell and puffed its cheeks out theatrically and mugged,

“Seems like your game has been a little ‘off ‘as of late though, wouldn’t you say? H’mmm?”

Yomat regarded the Changeling with an impassive, flat stare.

“What do you want, creature?” Ghallir spoke disdainfully

The changeling widened its coal – black eyes and a mildly – shocked look effused it’s subtly shifting features.

“Creature !” The Changeling enjoyed a fair – approximation of chagrined – dismay and then pivoted at the waste to perform an outrageous and over – the – top bow and declaimed:

“My abject apologies, my dear Gul Ghallir!!!” The Changeling fussed and put a bland hand on it’s chest (that it had not bothered to clothe) explaining.

“My name is Bora! “ Grinned the Changeling impudently, “Well it’s not really, but it’s as good a name as any I suppose, and I am here to offer you a job opportunity of sorts, my fine fellow!!!”

Gul Ghallir narrowed his yellowing eyes and crossed his arms.

“I have no interest in serving your masters in the Great – Link, creature, I have seen the worth of your words and friendships and know that you make poor allies.” Yomat commented thinly.

The Changeling Bora waved a dismissive hand and plopped himself down on the single, hard cot that was the cells only furniture and scootched up uncomfortably close to Gul Ghallir.

“Water and bridges, my dear Gul!” Bora dismissed this protestation with a resigned huff that managed to convey just the perfect measure of gathering boredom and then brightened as if it had just remembered something thoroughly splendid.

“I digress! Time is tick – tock – ticking, Gul Ghallir, and I am here expressly to establish if you are finally ready to have a crack at the…….” There was a pause whilst the infuriatingly patronizing creature made a show of looking left, the right, before finishing its sentence (and Yomat just wanted to punch it roundly in the face – but was unsure if his fist wouldn’t just carry straight through?) and said.

“BIG LEAGUES !”

Yomat considered the insufferable Changeling and weighed up his options.

To say that he didn’t trust the Changelings would be a chronic failure of understatement and, right there and then, he resolved that he would betray & kill Bora at the first opportunity that presented itself.

On the other hand, he was locked up again and here was an unlooked – for opportunity to once – again slip the bonds of his captors.

“What exactly are you proposing?” Ghallir probed carefully, knowing that there was only really one choice only.

Bora stood up like a marionette that had just had an electric charge through it and smiled obsequiously down at Yomat.

“Well, Yomie, I’m currently recruiting a motley little – crew to help me with a fun little ‘Job’ that I am putting together and then I thought – what FUN it would be if you could tag alone too?!” The Fifth – Columnist beamed.

“What kind of ‘Job’?” The Gul frowned, “What would this entail?”

Bora smiled guardedly and shrugged.

“Well, I can’t really say right now, operational security and all that – but what I can say is that it’s gonna be HELLA – Fun and it’s sure going to shake some feathers amongst the power’s to be – including the Federation and your own Detapa Council! Please say you’ll do it! Please say yes?!”

The infiltrators black eyes moistened appropriately and conveyed insincerity.

“Very well, Creature.” Yomat sighed, what other option did he have? At least when he was free of this place, he would have latitude to plan and act again.

“But how to you propose we leave this place –everything is monitored?”

Bora leaned over the recumbent form of Legate Nogat and smiled.

“One man enter; one man leave!” The insufferable creature lifted a lid of the Legate’s eye and gently prodded him in the retinae.

“I poked old Shamel here through the styloid process of his neck and down into his spinal column.” The Changeling grunted as he hefted the Legate’s body from the slatted – floor of the cell and tried to heft the incumbent – form onto the cot.

“A little help here?” Bora frowned.

Despite his misgivings, Yomat helped deposit the body onto the hard cot, as Bora happily prattled on.

“He’s paralysis incarnate, of course, it’s applesauce and full – pants from here on in for this boyo. The sensors expect that this cell is populated by a single Cardassian Male in his late 50’s at all times and that is exactly what telemetry our friend here will provide to your captors for long enough for us both to be ensconced somewhere infinitely more convivial!”

Yomat was forced to concede – that was a good ruse.

“And the Obsidian Order are just going to let you and me transport out of here and stroll away? That’s not a terrible convincing stratagem?”

The Changeling, Bora, made a great show of growing a pouting lip and rebuffed in a hurt tone.

“No, they transported Legate Nogat down here and he’s the only person that is getting out of the cell alive!”

“But…” Gul Ghallir began, but the Changeling suddenly advanced upon him with a terrifying look on a face that began to melt as the figure seemed to fall apart and began to flow up Yomat’s arms and body – a distinctly unsettling sensation akin to being engulfed by warm phlegm.

“Just hold still and let me do the talking.” Bora advised, his voice disconcertingly seeming to come from his own lips as the Changeling engulfed him completely – his own voice and appearance becoming identical to that of the paralysis Legate who lay helplessly on the cot.

“You know?” Bora sighed wistfully breezily as he merged around Gul Yomat Ghallir and lent to him the outward appearance that had been stolen persona of his doomed captor.

“I think that this could be the beginning of a fruitful partnership…..”

((Authors Note – The Changeling ‘Bora’ and Gul Yomat Ghallir will return soon in the upcoming story – “Chimera”))