Sandarklan entered the mess hall, padd in hand, planning to take his usual seat in the corner facing the window. Despite the fact that he didn’t need to eat or drink, he’d gotten used to the idea that he needed to interact with those he worked with, something he’d been neglecting in the last couple of months. So he took reports, or engine schematics, or other necessary information and read for an hour before going on duty. Today, however, he noticed a distinct change. Normally the rear wall had two large replicators, the main terminal of which the Eagle Star’s crew had gotten their meals, but now it was gone, replaced by a bar with a doorway leading to small backroom. A human man fussed about behind the bar, moving bottles out of a crate and placing them behind the bar. He stood rather tall, distinctly erect, with unruly dark blonde hair and striking green eyes. He wore khaki slacks and a colorful shirt depicting wild flowers on it. Sandarklan had never seen anything so outrageous in his life. “Can you give me a hand?” the man asked. Sandarklan looked about to see who the man addressed, quickly realizing there was no one. He asked, “Are you addressing me?” “No one else,” the man replied. “Very well,” Sandarklan replied. He set the padd down, and walked around the bar. The man went into the room and indicated a smaller pile of crates, and between the two of them, they had them in a moment. “Thanks,” the man in the shirt said, smiling. “You’re welcome,” Sandarklan replied. “I’m Joe.” “Crewman Sandarklan.” “It’s good to meet you, Sandarklan.” Joe extended his hand, and Sandarklan shook it. He turned, taking his padd of the bar, and was about to head for his seat when Joe said, “You don’t strike me as the social type, Sandarklan.” “I am attempting to learn to be more social.” “By sitting in the corner, reading, facing the complete wrong direction?” “I observe,” Sandarklan replied, a little defensively. “Trust me,” Joe said, “If you want to learn about the way your crewmates interact, you need to be more observant, especially if you want to start making friends and building trust. I can help if you’d like to.” Sandarklan thought for a long moment, then said, “I will consider it.” In the outer reaches of the final frontier, new enemies lurk in wait. In the great unknown, darkness rises. Yet, one crew will stand against the dark and explore the unknown, mounting up with wings as eagles to the stars.
Episode #203 “Stab in the Dark” Written By Michael A. Slagenweit
Commandant Erik Diabolus and his mistress entered the Council Chambers of the League of the New Order aboard the Executor, greeted by the remaining members of League. Diabolus greeted, “I bring good news, gentlemen, I have returned from the stronghold of our enemies with a new weapon.” Shashlar-Zamir said, “That is pleasing news Commandant Diabolus, as your Sergeant has failed in his attempt to annex Dekaniza for the League.” Diabolus strode to the head of the table, promptly lighting a cigarette. He’d thought of this possibility. Rizak was young and inexperienced. He suspected that he might fail, pitted against Space and the Federation on his own. He said, “I will deal with him, right now, I feel that I must show you our new weapon.” He pulled the control device from his belt and said into it, “Torin, Dashalt, bring the weapon into the wardroom.” The door opened again and Torin and Dashalt came in carrying a dark wood coffin. A couple of the members rose to make way for the zombies carrying the coffin and stepped in close once the box was on the table. The zombies then stepped back to either side of the door, staring off into space. The members of the League of the New Order looked incredulously at the coffin sitting atop the table. Diabolus strode to the side and taking a pry bar jammed into the rail of the casket, he pried open the box, revealing a human man inside. Counselor Erisar said, “There’s a dead human body in here!” “A body yes, but not a dead one,” Diabolus replied. The man lay on his back on a black satin pad. His dark hair sat plainly on his head, framing his narrow face, which was sunken and deep; the skin stretched over the bones of his skull and hands stretched tight. Any breath which might have come from the man was so imperceptible, he may as well be considered dead. Shashlar-Zamir continued, “What is this? This is the weapon you spoke of? If this is an attempt at humor, Commandant Diabolus, it is not amusing in the least.” “It is no joke, I assure you. This human, you see before you is a weapon. He is an assassin, perhaps the finest assassin of his age. However, as you can see, he is not quite alive at the moment. I have preserved him very carefully in a state of suspended animation. The technique my scientists of the time used on him is deteriorating. I have called on Doctor Kezarak to see to him.” The entry chime into the wardroom sounded and Diabolus called, “Enter!” Kezarak came striding into the room, walking stiffly, leaning on a polished wood staff with a polished skull in gold as the head. Diabolus said, “Come in, Doctor, we were just discussing the weapon.” “Is it still alive, Commandant?” Kezarak asked. “He is, Doctor, however, the deterioration is extensive. There is not much time left before the damage becomes irreversible.” Kezarak strode up to the table and viewed the corpse-like man inside, his medical mind working behind his un-expressionless eyes. Indeed, the deterioration was bad, as the person who performed it had not anticipated that the man would be preserved for a major length of time. Eventually, he spoke, “I believe I can restore him, but it will take some time. Have I your permission, Commandant, to set up a medical laboratory aboard the Executor, so I may complete the weapon?” “Permission is given, Doctor. With all expediency.” “Have your men take the weapon to medical. I will begin there.” With that Kezarak, turned on his heel and strode out of the wardroom, followed by the two zombies, carrying the casket. “Commandant,” Shashlar-Zamir pressed, “We have more pressing matters. Our resource base is depleting itself faster than we can replace it. The loss of the Dekaniza system is a blow we could ill afford.” “With the weapon in place, we will not need to worry about losing that backwater planet. There’re plenty to choose from in this part of the Section. This is nothing more than a temporary setback. We will prevail.” “Not at this rate, Commandant.”
Diabolus strode to Shashlar-Zamir and grated, “Are you questioning my orders, ShashlarZamir?” “Negative, Commandant.” “See that you don’t! Or I will see to it you do not leave this room alive. Now, all of you get out. You know what you need to do, so do it!” The leaders of the League of the New Order rose, grumbling at being dismissed so quickly. They filed out of the room slowly, and Diabolus was left alone with his female companion. She said, “They will not stand for you dismissing them in that manner, Commandant, they have the resources you require.” “I will not tolerate them questioning me. Rizak’s failure will be dealt with. In the meantime, I need to buy time for Kezarak to complete his work.” “Let me go, Commandant. I will distract the humans from making further progress into our affairs. This should give Dr. Kezarak time to complete his work.” “It’s too dangerous. Space will be anticipating a trap. I cannot allow any more failures at this time, not when we have the weapon so close to completion. The weapon will be the one to dispose of Space and his troublemaking flunkies.” “Who says I will go after Space…” Diabolus looked levelly at the woman, judging the words she spoke. With a distraction, that would give them the time Kezarak needed. Still, he knew Space, and Space would smell a trap in an instant. Perhaps she was right and not go after Space directly, but how would she do it? The thought of the hatching plot intrigued him. “What do you have in mind, my dear Compassion?” he asked. “Well, since you ask, Commandant, I was envisioning a…” Sandarklan had been visiting the mess hall everyday since his first meeting with the eccentric individual named, “Joe”. He didn’t know what made him do so, but since taking the other man’s advice, he’d been there, without fail and without reservation. It was as if he felt—as much as a Jem’Hadar could feel—that Joe was a kindred spirit; much like Lieutenant Talkart. Joe understood things from his point of view, more importantly, someone who did not judge him based on species. This morning, a week after they first met, Sandarklan and Joe were debating Federation tactical theory, when Bruce, Dana, and Kevin came into the mess hall. All three looked to have just come from an intense workout as their clothes stuck to their skin and sweat rolled easily down their faces. Dana said, “Five miles. It’s been a long time since I last did that.” “But it feels good doesn’t it?” Kevin asked. “Sure does,” she replied. “What were you doing?” Joe asked. “Rollerblading on the holodeck,” Kevin replied, “Could I get a glass of ice water, Joe?” Joe poured glasses for not just Kevin, but for Bruce and Dana as well. They had just about finished when Talkart’s voice sounded over the comm., “Captain Space to the bridge.” “Report?” Bruce asked, after exiting the turbolift and taking his chair. Neither he, nor his wife and first officer had bothered to change from their workout clothes. Sandarklan, who’d followed from the mess hall, took the helm. “Avkar ships nearby, Captain,” Xanthus replied, “We’ve got indications of weapons fire.” “Location?” Cammy said, “Bearing 164. Mark 088.” “Identify the ships, Ensign.” “Scanning, Captain,” after a couple of moments she said, “It’s the Executor, Captain… the ship being fired upon is an Avkar scout.” Bruce and Kevin exchanged glances at each other. They knew what this might entail. Bruce said, “Alter course, Mr. Sandarklan. We don’t want to get involved in this.” “Captain?” Dana asked. “It could be a trap, Commander. We can’t take that chance.” “We may have to, the scout is sending out a distress signal.” Bruce hesitated, “On speakers.”
A garble of static sounded and then a female voice said, “Federation starship, I am in need of assistance! I am defecting! I require assistance! Federation starship, do you copy?” Bruce again hesitated. He knew the ramifications of taking an Avkar aboard the Eagle Star. And he also knew their penchant for attacking ships just to prove a point. It would not be above Diabolus to do so. Still with an Avkar ship sending out a distress signal this time, could it actually be true? The brain said no, while the heart said yes. How many times had that gotten him into trouble? Risk is part of the game though, Space. Ah, screw it… “Dana, respond that we’re coming in to assist. Xanthus, weapons to ready. Red Alert!” Acknowledgements came and Bruce continued, “Take us in, Mr. Sandarklan.” The Eagle Star shot into the battle, firing at the Executor, intervening in between the dreadnought and the scout ship. “Xanthus prepare to drop shields momentarily to beam the pilot aboard,” Bruce ordered. “Ready, Sir,” “Eagle Star to Avkar scout ship. Drop your shields and we’ll beam you aboard.” “My shields just failed, Eagle Star! Beam me out now! Beam—” there was a bang and then a sudden crackle over the comm. channel. Dana broke in, “Their communications systems have been destroyed.” Cammy added, “The life sign aboard the ship has just grown fainter.” “Space to Transporter Room One, beam the survivor directly to Sickbay,” Bruce said to the comm. system. “We’re locked in, Sir,” the transporter chief replied. “Energize.” A moment later, the reply came back, “We’ve got the pilot, Captain.” “Sandarklan, get us out of here. Warp Nine.” With a minimum of damage, the Eagle Star shot out from the Executor’s barrage, like a cork shot from a bottle of champagne. It wasn’t until they were a long way from the Executor and the battle scene that Bruce ordered a slow down and a stand down from Red Alert. He then called Dr. Al-Rashid in Sickbay. “We’ve stabilized the patient, Captain. Given a little more time, you should be able to speak to her.” “Understood, Doctor. Mr. Sandarklan will be joining me.” Bruce and Sandarklan walked into Sickbay, being greeted by Dr. Al-Rashid, “She’s awake, Captain, but still weak yet. Keep this questioning short.” “We’ll try, Doctor, but she may hold a number of answers we’re seeking about the Avkar and Commandant Diabolus,” Bruce replied. They walked over to the biobed where the Avkar woman lay. She looked bruised and beaten, no doubt from her experience in the fighter. Her clothes, the little she wore, had been torn and burned in a couple places. Bruce said after looking her over, “I’m Captain Space, this is Crewman Sandarklan.” “You saved me?” she said. “Yes, we did. Do you have a name?” “I am called ‘Compassion’.” “Did Commandant Diabolus give you that name?” Sandarklan asked. “He did.” Bruce said, “Mr. Sandarklan?” Sandarklan explained, “Avkar females are not named until they are given to a male. This has been their way for over 2000 years.” “Why were you being fired upon?” “I needed to escape, Captain Space. Commandant Diabolus is planning something terrible. I needed to warn somebody, anybody, and you happened to be closest.” Space turned to Sandarklan, smiling a bit, “Isn’t that always the way?” “I am serious, Captain Space. He could bring about destruction in the worst way if he is not stopped. He wants to make use of the Spires.” “There’re more of them?” Bruce asked. She had his attention now. “Yes, there are more. Where I can’t say right now, but I escaped to help you stop him from gaining them.”
“But you can’t tell us why he wants them? What purpose they serve?” Compassion lowered her eyes, “I’m afraid not, Captain Space.” Bruce shifted his eyes toward Sandarklan, who looked to have been listening with wrapped attention. He asked him, “What do you think, Crewman?” “I believe we need time to ascertain whether or not this story is true.” “I am telling the truth, Captain.” “I am not saying I disbelieve you, but the Avkar have proven themselves to be untrustworthy to the Dominion when it suits them. The same could be true now that you’re in Starfleet custody. The Captain would be neglecting his duty if he did not ascertain it for himself.” Bruce’s eyebrows raised a little. He’d never heard Sandarklan speak this highly of him before. To hear it was a welcome change. And he was right, which mattered at the moment. He said, “Mr. Sandarklan is right. It’s not that we don’t believe you, but we have been led astray a few times before, it’s wise not to invite the opportunity again. We’ll check out what you’ve said, and if there’s anything more you can tell us, let Dr. Al-Rashid know or ask for Lieutenant Talkart, chief of security. When Dr. Al-Rashid is ready to release you, we’ll find you some quarters and some decent clothing.” “Thank you, Captain Space.” While heading back to bridge in the turbolift, Bruce asked Sandarklan, “What do you think?” “She seems sincere, Captain, but I do believe that caution would be warranted. The Avkar have proven troublesome for the Dominion, even when in the appearance of sincerity.” “How would you suggest we handle this?” “Observation. A security detail assigned to her, watching her movements and reporting back.” Bruce thought a moment, “The problem is we would be treating her as a prisoner.” “If Avkar were brought aboard a Dominion ship, they would be under constant guard and allowed no access to computer systems. An Avkar was the lowest order of the Dominion, even under the lowest rank Jem’Hadar. Only genetic scientists had a standing in the Dominion.” “You recall, Sandarklan, that Compassion is no longer a servant of the Dominion, aboard one of their vessels, or with the Avkar either.” “I do recall, Sir.” “It would help us if we treated her as a source of necessary information, worthy of a little respect, if we wish to obtain it,” a pause, then Bruce continued, “I believe I have an assignment for you, Mr. Sandarklan.” “Sir?” “When Dr. Al-Rashid releases Compassion from Sickbay, I want you to meet up with her, get to know her, treat her like a guest, but do your best to get her talking about Diabolus.” “What makes you think she would respond to me, Captain? I come from the government that oppressed her people. She may retreat inward further. Commander Space or Dr. Al-Rashid might relate better to her.” “You share something in common with her, Mr. Sandarklan. You are the only Jem’Hadar aboard this ship, separated from the Dominion and not taking its full authority. She’s in a similar position. She’s alone; separated from the Avkar.” “I see your point, Captain.” “Look at it as a chance to work on the social skills Joe has said you’ve wanted to work on.” “Very well, Sir.” “Thank you, Sandarklan.” “Sounds like an interesting challenge,” Joe said, when Sandarklan told him about the assignment, “How’re you thinking about tackling it?” “I am uncertain,” Sandarklan replied. “Get to know the young lady. She has a story to tell as much as you do. If you put her at ease, you’ll get much further than you would without doing that.” “I am not sure I can.”
“You can. Just hang around here; she’ll end up here soon enough.” Joe was right. An hour later, Compassion walked into the mess hall, followed by a pair of Lieutenant Talkart’s security guards behind her. She looked considerably better, and more dressed than she’d been in Sickbay, no doubt thanks to Dr. Al-Rashid’s assistance. Despite all this, she also looked downtrodden. She took a seat near the end of the bar; the guards taking positions near the door. On a little nudging from Joe, he walked down to her. “Hello,” he greeted, voice shaking a bit. “May I help you?” Compassion replied. “I was wondering if I could help you.” “Your commander ordered you to.” Sandarklan had to be impressed by her understanding of his order. He replied, “He did, but as we are in the same situation, I thought I might try to make your situation better.” Now Compassion had to be impressed. She expected the Starfleet crew to be the ones making the overtures to peace, yet here was a Jem’Hadar, the servants of the Avkar’s former masters. “Sit with me a while.” He did so and they ended up chatting about their lives within the order of the Dominion well into the afternoon, ending with Sandarklan escorting Compassion back to her quarters. Joe watched from the corner of his eye, keeping Sandarklan rolling when he seemed to be faltering. Before she entered her quarters, she said, “I appreciate you talking with me, Sandarklan. I have begun to feel that I can belong.” “I am glad.” “Can you help me find a place to belong here indefinitely?” “I can try.” She dropped to her knees, trying to treat him as she might have her former masters. Sandarklan said, “Please do not do that.” She rose slowly, “Why not?” “I was no more a master than anyone else the Dominion conquered. Do not treat me as such.” It shocked him to hear those words coming from his mouth. If he would have said this among other Jem’Hadar or the Vorta, he would have been executed on the spot, as a defective genetic strain. As he now served aboard a Starfleet, where the structure of society was much different, it had certainly affected his views. He could see that clearly now, but wondered why it was so strong. “As you wish,” Compassion replied, “Will we meet tomorrow?” “Certainly.” “Thank you,” she turned and walked into her quarters. Sandarklan didn’t linger, rather he headed for the one place that might explain these changes in him. Dr. Al-Rashid was in her laboratory when Sandarklan arrived in Sickbay. He said, “Doctor, I am in need of your assistance.” “This is a first,” Na’ila replied, “What’s the matter?” “I believe I am experiencing emotions. This is not possible for a Jem’Hadar.” Na’ila smiled, “I’m familiar enough with your physiognomy, Sandarklan, to know that you do have emotions. They’re suppressed by other factors in your genetic makeup; one of the traits of the Founders’ genetic workmanship which I can be impressed. This is a part of who you are, Sandarklan, not a medical condition for which you need treatment.” “I have no experience with emotion, Doctor. I wouldn’t know what I felt even if I am feeling it.” “Describe it for me.” “I have just spent the better part of the morning with the Avkar woman, Compassion. When I escorted her to he quarters, I found myself lingering, not wanting to leave at that moment. What does this mean?” “Do you find yourself attracted to her?” “How do you mean?”
“In terms of romance, Sandarklan? Are you romantically attracted to her?” “I cannot say.” “Don’t be so quick to discount it, Sandarklan. You may well end up learning something about yourself.” “What do I do?” Sandarklan asked, “There is no such thing as romance in the Dominion.” By now, Sandarklan had met with Compassion over a week and he’d experienced the same feelings each time he left her. It became clear to him that Dr. Al-Rashid knew what she was talking about; he had romantic attraction toward her, but did not know how to take the next step. So he sought advice from the person who suggested the means of initial contact in the first place. “Take it one step at a time,” Joe replied, “You’ve gotten to know the young lady, so now the time comes to take the next step.” “What is that next step?” “You need to show her how you feel.” “I am not sure I know how to do that.” “Come with me, Sandarklan. I’ll show you.” Joe took Sandarklan to the Replication center. Fortunately, they were the only ones in the room. Joe walked up to the main terminal and entered a menu for clothing. Sandarklan looked confused as to what he was doing. The flight suit he’d been given last year had sufficed, why did he need new clothes now? Yet, Joe worked the controls for the replicator and when he turned around he handed Sandarklan a new flight suit, more formal in a pleasant shade of red. “Try it on,” Joe said. Sandarklan gave him a questioning look, but took the suit and entered a storage locker in the room. A moment later, he reemerged in the new suit. “Looks good on you.” “It feels tight in the shoulders.” “Ah, quit complaining.” At 1800 hours, Sandarklan, wearing the new suit, rang the door signal at Compassion’s door. When she opened it, he raised his hand with a bouquet of chrysalian lilies. She smiled and said, “Thank you.” “It was Joe’s suggestion,” he replied, “Would you care to join me for a stroll through the arboretum?” “If you wish.” A moment later, they strolled though the Eagle Star’s arboretum, dimly lit with some sporadic candles placed here and there. A light violin tune played over the speakers. Sandarklan had to be impressed; Joe had created quite a scene. Compassion, kept her eyes generally locked toward the floor, though sometimes they strayed to Sandarklan. Sandarklan for his part occasionally glanced her way, catching her distracted attitude. “Are you all right?” “I’m not sure. I’ve felt distracted as of late…” “How so?” “My mind has been wandering; listless. I’m not sure…” “May I help?” She stopped in front of a rosebush planted by Dana from their garden in Iowa. She looked down at the flowers for a moment, Sandarklan standing beside her. When she looked up, she took his face in her hands and kissed him. Sandarklan felt overwhelmed for a moment, but it felt so good, so natural, that he became so lost in the moment it surprised him when they finally pulled apart. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I should not have done that.” “No. No. It is all right. It was… unexpected.” “You have been so kind to me and I have been having these feelings.” “I know.” “How?”
“I have been experiencing them too.” “Is that possible?” “Dr. Al-Rashid believes it so.” She leaned forward and kissed him again. This time lasted longer and upon finishing, she said, “I can’t believe this is happening.” “Neither can I.” A bench sat across from them, and she sat down, becoming serious again. Sandarklan remained standing, looking at her questioningly. “There is something that I must tell you.” When she finished, Sandarklan asked, “Are you certain?” “Yes.” “Excuse me, Compassion. I have to speak with the Captain.” Bruce, Kevin, and Dana were in a discussion regarding a new shore leave rotation for the crew, when the door signal to the ready room chimed. Bruce said, “Come.” Sandarklan walked in and said, “Captain. I hope I am not disturbing you.” “No, what can we do for you.” “Compassion, Sir. She has just told me where Commandant Diabolus has a scientific research facility. A facility where he is studying the Spires.” “Where?” Kevin asked. “A planetary system, Bearing 146. Mark 062.” “Can you verify that it’s accurate, Mr. Sandarklan?” Bruce asked. “I did verify that the system is there, Captain, but unable able to verify whether or not the facility is there.” Bruce did not reply. He gazed down into the teacup sitting on the coffee table before him. They’d walked this road before with the Avkar: a seemingly genuine event, yet the veil of deceit hanging over it. Could this be right? They hadn’t made much progress unlocking the Spire’s secrets; even having three of them didn’t change anything. They remained as mysterious as ever. Still Diabolus had the two in his possession for some time and he might have more data there than when they raided the Executor last year. “Sir, I know it is hard to trust her word, but this might be the chance she needs to prove herself to us. Just as much as you gave that same chance to me.” “We have to look,” Bruce said, at last, “The opportunity is too good to pass up.” “Captain?” Kevin asked. “Take the necessary precautions, Commander.” “Aye, Sir.” Kevin and Sandarklan headed for the bridge, while Dana remained behind. When they had gone, she said, “You sure about this?” “No, I’m not. But as Sandarklan said, how can we learn to trust her if we don’t try?” “It could be a trap.” “I know that.” “Course plotted and laid in, Sir,” Sandarklan said when Bruce and Dana finally emerged on the bridge. “Weapons standing by, Captain,” Xanthus added. “Engage, Sandarklan,” Bruce said, taking his chair. Dana took the operations station. “Red Alert,” Kevin said. Compassion saw the Red Alert status klaxons and started for the turbolift. Halfway there she met a security detail heading for the weapons locker on the deck. “You better head back to your quarters, Ma’am. Red Alert has been sounded and we’re likely headed into a combat situation,” the leader of the group said. “Good idea,” she replied. The troop passed her and she stepped into the turbolift.
The Eagle Star dropped out of warp at the outer edge of the system. Sandarklan immediately punched the impulse drive to full and they headed into the system. “No indication of the facility, Captain,” Cammy said, rechecking the sensors. “You’re sure, Ensign?” Bruce asked. “I’ve rechecked, Sir. Nothing on sensors.” Sandarklan turned around to face Bruce and Kevin. He was about to speak when Dana interrupted, “Captain! Two Avkar cruisers heading right for us!” Sandarklan reversed and Bruce ordered, “Hard about, helmsman. Weapons, fire at will.” “Aye, Sir.” The Eagle Star swung about, her phasers firing. The Avkar cruisers gave chase albeit slowly and without the same aggression which the Avkar had shown in previous engagements with Federation. Xanthus said, “I don’t understand. Their shields are weakening easily. They’re already at sixty percent.” “Cammy?” Bruce asked. “I’m not sure, Captain, the weapons are conventional Avkar weapons. There’re no modifications which are draining the power of the ship.” Sandarklan thought about it a moment, then realized, “Unless they don’t want to destroy us too quickly. An ulterior motive.” “Do you have an idea what it might be?” Sandarklan again was interrupted, this time by Xanthus, “Captain, I’m reading a security breach in Science Lab Four.” “The Spires? Get a security team there on the double, Xanthus!” “Captain!” Sandarklan said, “Let me. I know who it is, and it is my responsibility.” Bruce gauged Sandarklan a moment, and realized what he meant. He replied, “Kevin, take the helm. Go ahead, Sandarklan. Get those Spires back.” “I will, Captain.” Compassion snuck around the corner of the corridor outside Science Lab Four, leaving the two security guards she’d dispatched crumpled on the floor. In each hand, she gripped a Spire and a stolen phaser, while she carried the other two Spires under her arm, heading for the nearest transporter room. Sergeant Rizak had orders to be prepared to receive her transport once her mission was accomplished. So far, everything had gone according to plan. Should she succeed, Commandant Diabolus would be most pleased. She slipped around another corner, then another, coming up to Transporter Room Four. No one was about. She smiled, this had gone so well. Commandant Diabolus was right, the Federation was timid and weak, unwilling to ensure security in a crisis. She slipped into the Transporter room. “I should have known what you were doing sooner,” Sandarklan said. Compassion stopped in her tracks, surprised at finding the Jem’Hadar there. He had a phaser leveled at her, and to use hers would require her to loosen her grip on the Spires. Commandant Diabolus had expressly commanded her to get the Spires, and she must not loose them. She hissed, “That is the difference between the Avkar and the Jem’Hadar. You are mere puppets of the Dominion, unable to reason and think for yourself. The Avkar were wise and merely subjugated by the Dominion. The Federation is nothing more than another puppet master.” “I will not allow you to steal those. You used me, but I saw through your subterfuge.” “Shoot if you must.” Sandarklan straightened his arm and stepped forward, preparing to fire if needed, “Drop the phaser and give me the Spires.” She tossed the phaser a short distance away, then stooped to put the Spires on the floor. She had just set the last one down, when she suddenly rushed Sandarklan, putting her full force into his chest. He was knocked back, his phaser falling from his hand. He tried to grab the phaser again, but she was too quick, grabbing it and throwing it across the room. She again put her weight into another rushing blow.
Sandarklan able to block the rush better, was not able to regain his footing so easily. Compassion took advantage to grab her phaser and fire it at Sandarklan. While she missed, Sandarklan was again pushed away from regaining the Spires. She fired again, and this time Sandarklan rolled so as not to be hit. Compassion dashed to the transporter console and entered coordinates, adding a message to Rizak. She had just finished and had raised her head when the status console behind her exploded in a shower of sparks. She looked over to see Sandarklan with his lost phaser in hand. “Step back from the console,” Sandarklan grated. “You’re too late,” she hissed in triumph, “Commandant Diabolus will be victorious. Join us, Sandarklan. You will be rewarded in the New Order.” “I refuse to serve any master would destroy all that I have come to understand and appreciate.” He couldn’t quite believe what he’d just said, but nonetheless it was true. He had come to value the Eagle Star crew. “You’re a fool.” She looked down at the Spires sitting on the deck plates. She knew that Sandarklan wanted them for Space as much as Commandant Diabolus did. Yet, Commandant Diabolus had made it clear that Space could not be allowed to possess their power. She aimed her phaser at the furthest Spire and fired at it. A brilliant flash accompanied the impact, sending Sandarklan flying off his feet. She took advantage of Sandarklan’s disorientation, flying at the other Spires on the floor. Snatching them up, she dashed on to the transporter pad and dematerialized a moment later. When Sandarklan regained himself, he rose to his feet, finding Compassion gone. He looked down, expecting to see a blackened patch of deck plate where the Spire had been. To his surprise, he found the artifact still sitting there, looking just as it had been when she brought it in here. He tapped his combadge, “Sandarklan to bridge. Compassion is gone.” Space’s voice came back, “And the Spires?” He picked up the Spire, “We still have one, Captain.” Sandarklan sat in the Mess Hall; Joe walked up to him and said, “I’m sorry.” “What for?” Sandarklan replied. “I encouraged you to develop relationship with that woman and she ends up stabbing you in the back.” “You did.” He looked down at his hands a moment and then Sandarklan said, “Yet, if you had not, I would not have made the discoveries I have. I am no ordinary Jem’Hadar. I have feelings. I care about this group of people I serve with.” “That’s not a bad thing, Sandarklan. It’s a very good thing.” “I cannot understand why people choose to do something like this to another person.” “That’s part of what having feelings is about. You have to put your feelings out on the line sometimes.” “Even if you get hurt by them?” “Yup. Even if that happens, because from it’s from things like this that you learn and grow.” “Emotions are so troublesome.” “True, but they can also be something very, very special.” Sandarklan looked down again. Joe moved away for a moment. As he did, a young woman walked into the room from the corridor. She sat down next to Sandarklan. Joe served her a drink and she turned to look out the windows. Sandarklan looked up and saw her; she had tousled light auburn hair and blue eyes. The science blue uniform accentuated her eyes. Joe shot him a look, Sandarklan caught it. He turned and said to her, “Greetings, I am Sandarklan.” “Melissa Pennington. I just transferred from the Salk last month. I’m a nurse on the night shift in Sickbay... Dr. Al-Rashid told me you come in everyday at 1230 hours. You’re very punctual, Mr. Sandarklan.” “I remember seeing you there.” Joe watched and smiled.
Star Trek: Eagle Star Episode #203 “Stab in the Dark” Written By Michael A. Slagenweit Based on “Star Trek” Created By Gene Roddenberry Star Trek®, Star Trek: The Next Generation®, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine®, Star Trek: Voyager®, Star Trek: Enterprise®, and all associated marks are registered trademarks of CBS Studios Incorporated. All rights reserved. No infringement is intended. No profit whatsoever is coming from the use of "Star Trek" by this fan fiction. No part of this fan fiction may be reproduced or otherwise copied without express written permission of the author.