Glenn Trejon Prol picked himself up off the deck of the Warship Valdora.  The bridge was black and eerily silent with… well, most everything offline.  There was a hiss and a pop followed by a shower of bright sparks momentarily illuminating the bridge and showing the destruction.

Gul Morek was dead.  A piece of shrapnel to the forehead did the trick. Prol felt no sympathy for his late CO.  He was one of those officers that actually believed Dukat and his lies.  Morek was a fool.

As for the rest of the bridge crew, they were either dead or dying.  Prol knew he was one of them.  How he knew that he didn’t know, but his abdomen was on fire, and it was increasingly harder to take in a breath.  Prol cursed Dukat, the Dominion, and anyone else that he could think of that had led Cardassia down this path of destruction.

Coughing, he stumbled over the rubble and fell. His strength was failing him, but his anger pushed him on.  In the dark, he touched something not part of the ship, and he instinctively recoiled.  The lifeless body of the Vorta lay on the deck pinned by a support beam. 

Rage filled Prol’s veins with white-hot venom as he repeatedly kicked Maveren. His emotions were no longer controlled; he took it all out on the Vorta until he no longer had the strength to stand. He fell hard to the deck on top of his foe. Even as the last of his energy reserves faded, he couldn’t stomach dying next to the Vorta. Attempting to crawl away, the blackness fell over him. Glinn Prol was still partially lying atop the Vorta that disgusted him so much. Even in the inevitable death, peace would not find him.

USS Denver – 

The battle had ended almost as quickly as it had begun.  The ship had done well and held its own.  Rebecca had been impressed.  “Report,” she ordered. 

Peter Crawford shook the dust out of his hair as he tapped at the console.  “Shields are at 40%, but engineering reports repairs are underway.  We’ve sustained heavy damage to decks 1 through 5, with 4 and 5 taking the brunt.  Medical teams and engineering teams are moving quickly to put their eyes on the situation.”  He gestured to the bridge, which had a thin layer of smoke drifting around it as lights and consoles flickered, “The bridge is functional aside from an EPS conduit issue which is being diagnosed.  Warp engines are offline due to the hits they took but they are repairable.  Impulse is at 50%, and sensors are spotty at the moment.”  He tapped at his console further, “Damage reports are being routed through engineering while injured needs are being routed through Sickbay with the help of three operations officers who should be arriving within the next three minutes.”  He shook his head, “We were damned lucky, Captain.”

Rebecca sighed,  “Mr. Crawford lead a team over to the Cardassian ship.  Rescue whatever survivors you encounter,  but that ship might have vital intelligence for the war effort.”

Peter gave a brief nod, “I’ll take three security officers with me,” he slipped out a PADD as he spoke further, “I’m calling Security Officers Houston, Wellington, and Plasac to the transporter room.  Keep an eye on us, Captain.”

Rebecca nodded to Peter, “Will do. You’re likely going to encounter useful intelligence over there.  Take Lt. Nixon with you, but you are in charge.  If he doesn’t like it, have him come to me.”  

Lieutenant William Nixon was the new intelligence officer assigned to the ship.  He was head of a one-person department and spent most of his time censoring and encoding outgoing transmissions.

“Oh, and contact sickbay.  See if they have anyone to spare.  There are likely injured people over there,” Rebecca added.

Crawford gave an accepting nod, “We’re on our way.”

Warship Valdora-

The transporter faded, and the team immediately spread out. Ensigns George Houston, Lawrence Plasac, and Brian Wellington all brought their phaser rifles to the ready position, clicked on the lights, and moved to cover the intersections of the corridor while their sickbay representative, Ensign Patricia Polson, slipped out her medical tricorder and did a scan of the immediate area and reported, “I’m getting some life sign readings, but they are sporadic.”  She was a nurse but had been combat-trained over the last year.  Crawford had chosen her specifically on his way to the transporter room.  She made sure she was in between at least two of the large security officers at all times as she continued her scans from one corridor to the next, “We’re not alone, Ensign.”

“Understatement of the year.”  The voice of their new intelligence officer broke through as he swaggered through the hallway, a phaser in his holster and a PADD in his hands.  William Nixon was confident coming into this mission and mostly because he outranked everyone on the away team.

Crawford didn’t look at him but said plainly, “Don’t get cocky, Lieutenant.  We’ve got a mission and lots of things in the way of getting to it.  Make sure your weapon is in hand and charged.”  Nixon nearly spouted back at the ensign, but he’d come to learn that the operations chief had proven rather prickly to others’ attempts at shutting him down.  Peter shifted his attention to the corridor leading to a turbolift.  “There are two more corridors to go before we get to the lift.  Houston and Wellington – take point.  Plasac and Nixon bring up the rear.  Polson, you’re with me in the middle.”

Nixon muttered under his breath that he should be in the lead, but a stare from Plasac shut his mouth and reminded him why he didn’t want to be here in the first place.  Nobody respected him, it seemed.  At least his paperwork on the ship didn’t talk back to him.

Seong stood on the transporter pad with her phaser unholstered. She checked the weapon and ensured that it was set to a mid-level stun before she holstered it. “Chief, open comms to Ensign Crawford,” she ordered as she looked over at the chief that was behind the controls of the transporter.

There was a chirp from Crawford’s communicator, ‘Ensign Crawford, please move yourself and a single security officer to the corridor outside of that compartment. I am beaming down.’ came the voice of Seong. Before there was a chance to allow any retorting comments, the connection was closed.

Seong looked at the chief and nodded. The room glowed for a moment as the transporter energized and dematerialized Seong. A moment later, the glow emanated just outside of where she had indicated Crawford to be.

Crawford had done as she’d asked.  She was a full lieutenant commander and the chief medical officer.  He knew better than even to attempt to argue with the woman.  He’d taken Houston with him.  Seong materialized, and Peter gave her a nod, “Lieutenant Commander Seong.”  There was a sudden shifting of someone around the corner, and he lifted his weapon up out of instinct, “Sounds like we have someone alive.”  He listened.

A young Cardassian officer moaned as he lay pinned to the deck under a beam. His face was a charred mess from an exploding ODN conduit. He stared blindly and swallowed. “Who’s there?” He demanded, hearing their footsteps approach. “Nor’vak? Grovel? I… I can’t move.”

“I am Lieutenant Commander Kyo from the Federation Starship USS Denver,” Seong stated as she dropped to a knee and pulled out her medical tricorder, “I am here to help you. Please do not move,” she said as the tricorder moved over the Cardassians’ waist. “Your waist is pinned down by a beam from the deck above and has broken your pelvis,” she told him. “I am going to give you something for the pain and then get you out of here and back to the Denver,” she told him.

Crawford motioned to Houston, “Cover the corridor that way, and I’ll cover the other side.  Let’s give Dr. Seong some room and time to work.”

The Cardassian growled as he spoke, “Touch me, and you will….”

“Let me guess, die?” Seong said as she snapped out her arm and pressed a hypospray into his neck, administering ten cc’s of Triptacederine. “Sorry, but you’re in no position to try and kill me today, sir.”

Seong pulled out her communicator, “Commander Kyo to Doctor Efe, prepare for medical transport to transporter room one. Captain, please have a security detachment at transporter room one for the duration of this away mission,” she stated before closing the connection.

“Understood, Doctor,” Rebecca’s disembodied voice replied back.  “Mr. Crawford report.”

Peter replied, “Ships pretty torn up, Captain.  It’s stable, but I would wager a long-term experience isn’t going to be good for any of us.  We should probably get to command and control to see what else is hiding in the corners of this thing.”

Lieutenant Nixon looked at Peter with resentment, but the captain had put the ensign in charge of the mission.  He had to follow that order, but he did not have to like it.  Maybe the doctor will take command of this circus, Nixon thought to himself.  I think the captain is in over her head.  She doesn’t know what she’s doing. Putting an ensign in charge.  Ludacris!

“The bridge is over there,” he indicated to Peter with a nod of his head. “If we are going to find any intel, that’s where we need to be.”

Crawford gave a nod and gestured to the team, “Let’s get back into our grouping – let’s carefully move through the corridor intersections.  We don’t know how many are left.”

Seong tapped Peter on the shoulder after the Cardassian was transported away. “This is your away mission Peter,” she said. “I am not taking over it.”

The Ops chief smiled quietly, “You may end up taking over depending on how things go from here.  I don’t think your patient is the rule to what we’re going to find.  We’ve got some tough corners to clear to get to the bridge.”  He gave her a nod of thanks, “The sentiment is appreciated, Lieutenant Commander.”

He motioned to the forward security officers to shift forward, and they all moved together, mostly.  Nixon had to be reminded with sharp whispers from the security team to avoid causing a collision with each other as they walked carefully in loose formation to ensure they would see whoever was coming for them before they came for them.  Houston and Plasac cleared the first corridor with care and stood in with rifles raised as the crew moved quickly through and into the long hallway.  The two of them returned to the front, and Wellington slipped back to the rear. 

Crawford counted one more corridor until they’d be within distance of the doors to the bridge.  He motioned them forward.  As the two in the front checked the corner, there was a whine and explosion of disrupter fire that flooded the intersection.  Houston and Plasac stepped back nonchalantly with looks of annoyance visible.  Peter turned to the CMO, “Easy is for other people, I suppose.”

Seong slipped her phaser from its holster. “Easy is not the word I would use Pete,” she said in a low tone as she readied herself.

He motioned the third security officer forward, “See what they need to clear whoever’s slowing us down.”  He nodded and shuffled forward.  Nixon sighed loudly behind them, his phaser rifle at his side and his eyes searching the ceiling for distractions.  Crawford bit his tongue as he turned at the sound of the repeated firing of phaser rifles as the three security officers cleared and then slipped around the corner letting loose unseen blasts and fire – shouts and screams of the enemy as they realized they were not going to snatching victory from Starfleet.  A moment later the three officers appeared, dragging three bodies and dropping them in front of the CMO with a thump.  Wellington gave her reassurance, “They’re just stunned.  Put up a hell of a fight.”

Seong holstered her phaser as she did a quick examination. Pulling out her communicator once more she raised the Denver, “Three more, incoming,” she said before she closed the connection and watched as the light blue transporter energy coursed over them. Once they were clear she stood up and pushed passed Houston, Plasac, and Wellington, “Excuse me,” she stated as she bore down on Nixon.

She didn’t care if every Cardassian, dead or alive, heard her. “Do you have a problem Lieutenant?” Seong asked as she stood in his face. She didn’t care if she was out of line in front of the others as she spoke to him. “I am waiting for an answer.”

“No ma’am… you know what? I DO have a problem, ma’am.  The captain is obviously incompetent in putting an ensign in charge of this three-ring circus. There is a severe lack of leadership on the Denver.” Nixon replied. 

“When this mission is over, Lieutenant, consider yourself confined to your quarters,” Seong growled as her usually light brown eyes shifted to a dark golden hue. She had had enough of his insubordination and was going to ensure that he was held accountable for his actions, which included his mouth. Mouthing off about her was one thing; however, saying that the captain didn’t know what she was doing was unacceptable.

Seong leaned in, “You best be glad that I am the one dealing with you. Had it been my husband or even the captain herself, you might have been a casualty,” she whispered into his ear.

Seong had learned from her husband how to project herself toward people that thought themselves better than the rest, and she had had enough of his petty sounds. “Just remember something, Lieutenant. Just because you outrank everyone here, except me, doesn’t mean that the team,” and she emphasized the last word as she spoke, “is yours to run. Also, Mister Nixon, don’t ever chastise a department head in my presence again.”

With that, she turned her back on the Lieutenant and moved forward, her phaser once more unholstered, and past Pete. She winked as she did and entered the corridor that lead to the bridge.

“Remind me to never upset you, Lieutenant Commander.”  He motioned the security officers forward and followed in the scrum as they moved through the hallway with the ranking officer leading the way.  Houston and Wellington skittered to the front door and gave Seong a quiet nod while motioning for everyone to step back and down as they worked on the door.  Plasac shifted to kneeling in front of Crawford as the door slowly opened.  Plasac fired through the small opening as cover fire and there were shouts from the other side as the door slowly shuddered open.  Houston and Wellington leaped, tucked, and rolled into cover as they let loose a barrage of cover fire allowing the others to fill the space and find their own cover.  There were three live ones scattered around the bridge, and they were not going quietly.

Glenn Trajon Prol heard voices and movement.  He was fading in and out of consciousness, but it didn’t seem like they were Cardassian.  He hurt too much to say anything and remained silent.  He hope death would come soon.

Seong had followed Houston and Wellington onto the bridge and had rolled up behind Wellington, pressing her body hard against a blackened, and soothed bulkhead, behind a structural pillar, for cover. She peeked around it and then looked back at Peter. She signaled from him to get low and over to her. 

Crawford slid to her side, “Suggestions?”

In a low voice, she suggested to him that now might be a good time to try and negotiate with the survivors on the bridge.

A Cardassian stepped away from the cover, his weapon above his head, “Don’t shoot. We surrender Starfleet.”  Another Cardassian,  a woman this time, also stepped away from cover.  She was wearing civilian attire, and her black hair had come loose and fallen around her shoulders. A streak of blood ran down her face.  There was defiance in her eyes,  but there was also the resignation of defeat. 

Ensign Houston moved to disarm the Cardassian when a hand grabbed his pant leg.  Prol was staring up at him. “Don’t trust her. She is not to be trusted. Obsid…”  His grip weakened, and it fell to the deck with a soft thump.

Plasac and Wellington scrambled as the woman slipped out a knife and swiped at Houston’s neck, blood splattering as she threw his body to the ground, and she sprinted for the turbolift, shooting behind her with an unseen disrupter pistol.  Wellington was at Houston’s side in seconds, hailing sickbay for an emergency beam out as they vanished into beams of light.  Plasac looked up and found Crawford throwing himself into the turbolift with a shout, his shoulder leaning in hard to the Cardassian woman’s suddenly surprised face as the crack of bone to face echoed through the bridge.  Lawrence snapped out of it and quickly jumped into the turbolift to help subdue the woman.  It took a few minutes, a lot of shouting, and several traded punches between the attacker and them until the woman was out cold.  Plasac threw her out of the turbolift with a curse, shaking his head as he strapped her hands and feet in cuffs, not taking any chances.  “Goddamn Obsidian Order.”  He stared down the remaining Cardassian, who had watched wide-eyed at the raw display by the two Starfleet officers.  “You want to get to your knees, put your hand behind your head, and do it now.”

The Cardassian complied.

Seong stood over the Cardassian Agent. Her eyes never wavered as she stared into the woman’s eyes. “What did you think to gain?” she asked her, all the while she continued to run an epidermal regenerator over the gashes that she had obtained from the fight and the battle.

The agent scowled at Seong and definitely spit in the Doctor’s direction. “I have nothing to say Starfleet.”

Seong shook her head and turned away with her eyes closed. In her mind she thought to herself, ‘get this fucking bitch out of my sight.’, but out loud she simply stated, “Get her to the brig.”

With that, she holstered her phaser and pulled out her communicator. “Denver away team ready for extraction.” Moments later the ship lay silent as the last of the bright light of the transporter’s energy faded away.