It had been nearly two weeks since the Raven class corvette under the command of one Jason Dervon had suddenly raced off seemingly destroying a relay satellite on the way out of the system; resulting in the Johannesburg been cut off from the rest of Starfleet.

All diplomatic relations with the Vashran had been concluded to both sides satisfaction.  Captain Vance was happy that he’d been granted full authority to conduct the talks as the Federations representative and not have to converse with the nearest Diplomate or Admiral before agreeing to anything.  Right now he didn’t have much else to be happy about.

The doctor looked at his arm and scanned it with a medical Tricorder whilst a nurse held it steady. “How exactly did you sprain your wrist playing three dimensional chess?” The female doctor enquired with a slight puzzled smile on her lips.

“Throwing my king across the room!” Replied the captain. “Vulcans are so infuriating at times.”

“When are you going to learn not to play against your Chief Science Officer?” She asked, setting about treating the injury.

“I beat him once. Besides with Takalla quarantined at the moment I’ve got no one else to play against who’s a challenge.”

Doctor Dukakis stopped what she was doing and looked at her captain. “Why is Takalla in quarantine?”

“They were your orders doc.” Vance replied. “Fritolian flu you said. Four weeks isolation in her quarters”

“I never said anything of the sort!” The doctor protested back. “And besides she was born on Cereus III making her immune to it.”

Vance was about to question her statement, but having worked together the past three years he knew how good doctor Dukakis was at her job.  Something was amiss, something was very wrong.  He tapped his com-badge. “Computer confirm location of Lieutenant Berris Takalla?”

“Unable to comply.” It replied flatly.

“What’s wrong?” Dukakis asked as the captain jumped off the bio-bed. “I’ve not finished.”

“No time doctor.  If you didn’t send me that message, then who did and what’s going on with the computer!”

Determined to figure out what was going on the captain ran to the nearest turbo-lift. “Deck 6.” He ordered.

Before tapping his badge again. “Security meet me outside Lieutenant Takalla’s quarters, now!”

**********

When he rounded the corner a security office by the name of Brent had just reached the lieutenants door from the other direction.  The captain ordered him to set his phaser on stun and get the door open.  As the both entered the room which was in total darkness, Vance ordered the light on.  The side of the room closest to the door seemed in order, it was as his eyes where draw towards the bed he noticed something wrong.  Two apparently sleeping individuals lay side by side on the bed.

The captain turned to see Brent raise his gun, confused he ducked and lunged.  On the table a lamp disintegrated as the phaser fired. Vance grabbed the guards wrist, noticing the phaser in the man’s hand was set to full power.  Somehow the man managed to twist his hand all the way around as if he had no bones, until it almost pointed back at the captains’ head. “What are you?” He shouted, realisation dawning on him as to what this man or more correctly thing was.

“I’m sorry captain, its time you were replaced.” The Brent Changeling laughed.

So this was it; he was about to die at the hands of someone he thought he trusted.  How long had he been an imposter; a month a year, when, where, how?  He closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable.

The Brent Changeling had made two vital errors.  The captain was expecting security so that’s what he needed to find waiting for him.  However Brent was not this Changelings chosen form.  The real Brent was very much alive.  Secondly the Changeling had failed to prevent the message from being received by the real security and two of them where much closer to the lieutenants’ quarters than it had gambled on. So when the doors opened at that moment the security officer had the bizarre situation of looking at himself.  The Brent Changeling rotated his body at the waist 180 degree’s holding the captain with two arms the third holding the phaser moving towards his new target.

The real Brent along with another office equally stunned by the situation both fired together, striking the Changling in the chest. It lost part of its shape becoming part way between liquid and solid its own phaser slipping from its grasp.  Able to get free the captain dropped to the floor, grabbed the fallen phaser and rolled bringing it to bare on the imposter.  Caught in the middle of the room and now with three weapons firing at it the Changeling didn’t stand a chance no matter which way it tried to dodge or how many arms and tentacles it flung out.

All that remained at the end was a weirdly deformed burnt shape on the carpeted floor.  Vance sat panting the pain in the wrist the doctor had been fixing now worse than before; a pain in his chest, possibly a broken rid from having just been hit.  Brent had a nasty gash across the left cheek and the other guard was holding his arm just above the elbow.  The captain struggled to his knees just to give himself a better view of the bed.

Laying there was Lieutenant Takalla and next to her was another female; not one of the crew but someone he recognised as being from the USS Jaxartes.  And if they were here, then who’d left on the other ship.  He heard Brent behind him call for medical assistance before he sank back down to the floor.

**********

It was unclear how much time had passed, when Vance opened his eyes after waking up on the bio-bed back in sickbay.  Standing over him; doctor Dukakis and Commander Gleway. “Good your awake.” The Bolian first officer smiled. “How do you feel?”

“Like I went three rounds with a nausicaan.” The captain winced. “What about everyone else?”

“Battered and bruised, but in general ok.” Dukakis answered him. “As for the Lieutenant and our guest, they are a live but in a deep coma like sleep.”

“Number one; get us in communication range of the nearest star base.  We have to let them know there’s a Changling aboard the Jaxartes.”  He tried to sit up but found he was being restrained. “Go man, quick.  There’s no telling if it’s already too late!”

**********

By now everyone was back aboard the USS Jaxartes and despite those who’d been on the ‘away team’ feeling tired and nauseous due to the prolonged lack of oxygen and stuck within the confines of the scout ship; they still tried their best to help with the repairs.

They’d got off lightly, or not; depending on your point of view.  One phased polaron beam and punched the hull and wreaked half the Holo-suite, the other had totally destroyed part of the aft crew quarters; leaving eight of them without a place to sleep or any of their personal belongings.  Luckily no one had been in or around those parts of the ship at the time of impact. Dinari had discovered the half flat twisted remains of his beloved trumpet amongst the shattered remains of his room.  But the priority was fixing the outer hull and that had meant cutting two undamaged inner sections of the Holo-suite and welding them into place over the holes.  The window on deck 2 also had to be covered over, but that was small enough that one of the spare sections of hull plating in the forward stores could be used.

**********

It was totally darkness on the bridge of the Jem’Hadar fighter Amat’Etat opened his eyes, taking in the few details his enhanced vision could make out.  He was on what should have been the ceiling; the controls upside down and above him, the body of Geris lay to his left, around him four other warriors but none seemed to be moving.  The First could tell his right shoulder was dislocated, so he stood moved over to the wall and slammed into it.  The roar he let out echoed around the confines of the room.  But He was satisfied his shoulder was back in place.  Gathering a section of broken support beam from the ceiling; he used the sharp point at one end to lever the doors open, before grabbing both sides and forcing the gap wide enough for him to pass through.  Here in the corridor emergency light where working which allowed him to better survey his surroundings.  He picked up a Kar’Takin and swung it around a few times, left, right and around in an arc above his head. Amat’Etat could tell from the weight and feel it was not his own weapon.  A good warrior could tell that much, but it felt good in his hand and it would suffice his needs.

As the First searched the wreckage of his vessel he only found six other Jem’Hadar still alive out of the thirty still on board; and out of those only two could walk.  With a swift swing of his Kar’Takin he’d despatched each of the other four bringing an end to their suffering.

There was only one course of action on his mind, one location he was heading for with deadly determination the accursed Federation vessel sitting the other side of the ridge.  He would kill everyone on board that ship, even if he had to do it with his bare hands.  The final victory would be his!