The Cardassian Incident- Part II
Part I Part Ib
Part Two
Their entrance into the nebula was harsh and rough before the stabilizers caught up. As Enal warned, the sensors went crazy the first several light years; but as promised, they slowly returned to normal as they reached the eye. Not that it made much of a difference, Jim reflected, as Scotty was still fiddling with the things to find the Cardassian style ships. However, just because the computers couldn’t find the ships didn’t mean that good old fashion eyes couldn’t either.
“We’ve arrived, sir,” Sulu reported. “Slowing to one quarter impulse.”
“Chekov, magnify the visuals,” Pike ordered calmly. “Let’s get a good look at what’s out there.”
Chekov complied and the viewing screen flashed systematically, the magnification increasing and decreasing as he visually searched each sector of space. Minutes passed until -
“Got it.”
All Jim could think at the sight before him was that maybe Spock had been right after all. Cardassian ships of all sizes filled the screen imposingly. These weren’t just black marketeers; they were an armada.
“Open a channel, Lieutenant,” Pike ordered calmly.
“Open, sir.”
“I am Captain Christopher Pike of the Federation starship Enterprise,” Pike said, motioning for the Cardassian trio on board to keep quiet.
“Captain Christopher Pike,” a Cardassian returned, “What brings you to such a remote corner of the galaxy?”
“I heard that you’re ones to talk to when someone has a problem with your military,” he said.
“Really, Captain? And who has been telling you such tales?”
“Whom do you think?” Enal said before Pike could reply.
The other end of the line was silent for a moment.
“Gul?” the voice said cautiously.
“Who else?” she said, “Surely the Do’lock informed you of the reason for my absence.”
“Of course, ma’am, we just -” There was a quick shuffling on the Cardassian end before another voice spoke.
“Captain Pike? This is the commanding officer of the vessel. Our superior would like to speak with you and the Cardassians you have aboard. You have nothing to fear from our ships. If you will give us the coordinates and number of people to transport, he will see you right away.”
“Will do. Pike out.” Pike motioned for the line to be cut and stood.
“Sulu, you have the conn. Spock, Kirk, you’re with me. Let’s not keep them waiting.”
Jim’s first thought upon beam-in was how dark the place was. The lights were dim by human standards, dark enough to even cause squinting. Shadow hid every corner and smoothed each edge. Compared to the Enterprise, the Cardassian vessel was like a night in the country lit only by stars.
“Welcome,” called a voice from the shadow, his face only partially lit by the console. “If you will follow me.”
“There is no need for you to leave your post,” Enal said commandingly, “I can escort them to your superior.” Without a word she strolled past the man.
“If you two would wait here,” she told her Cardassians. “I don’t expect this will take long.” They nodded and she stood at the now open door, waiting for the five Star fleet officers.
Jim’s officers joined her first before Pike stepped down without a backwards glance. Jim knew his captain was just as wary of the situation as he and Spock were from that action alone. The metal corridor that met them was, if anything, darker and more lifeless than the room they left. Barely a blip sounded through it, causing their footsteps to echo ominously. The only upside was that they heard another set long before the Cardassian came into view.
“Well, what do we have here?” he said, his voice lighter than any of the other Cardassians Jim had heard. The Cardassian’s hands were low and open in a welcoming manner. “I was beginning to think you’d never arrive, my friend.”
“Yes, yes, Gul Enal is once again late,” Enal said, sarcasm practically dripping from each syllable. Not even Spock was that good. The male’s eye ridge rose at the statement.
“Show a little consideration for our guests, Domor,” she gestured at the humans behind her. “They have traveled a long way to be here.”
Domor snapped to attention at her tone, surreptitiously eyeing the humans.
“Of course,” he said in a friendly manner, finally stepping around the woman. “Forgive me my negligence. I am Domor. Welcome to our humble little rebellion.”
Jim was certain he could’ve heard a pin drop in the seconds following that simple declaration. He glanced at Spock, who almost had that ‘see what happens when you don’t listen to me’ look on his face.
The Cardassians recovered the most quickly.
“I’m sorry, Enal didn’t inform you?”
“No,” Pike drawled, giving her the fastest, dirtiest look Jim had ever seen from the man. Nevertheless, the man stepped forward, a hand extended. “Captain Christopher Pike of the Federation star ship Enterprise.”
Domor looked at his hand a moment before taking it and shaking it. “A pleasure, Captain.”
“I did say that their methods were less than legal,” Enal said, smirking before she addressed Domor again. “Their scientists have been kidnapped and presumably taken to Cardassia Prime.”
Domor nodded. “That would fit the several ‘alien prisoners’ transmissions we have been intercepting,” he said slowly.
“Any mention of the prisoners’ conditions?” Pike asked.
Domor shook his head. “Just that they were alive, Captain,” he said, “If you would follow me. I don’t believe our upcoming conversation is one to have out in a hallway such as this.”
“I leave them in your capable hands, Domor,” Enal said.
The man smirked at her. “It touches me to know you trust me so.”
“Trust has nothing to do with it,” she retorted softly before heading back the way they came.
Domor shook his head. “The sad thing is she’s correct,” he muttered before leading the group to a rather small room deeper in the ship.
The office was spartan, decorated only by dark curtains framing a large window. Domor sat behind the desk, gesturing for Pike to take the other available seat. Pike did so, his officers flanking the chair just behind him. Jim noticed Spock in particular keeping a hand close to his weapon. In a way, Jim was grateful for it. It was taking more work than usual for him to maintain his focus and the idea that Spock still had things under control was a comforting one.
“So rebels, huh?” Pike said dryly, crossing his legs.
“‘Rebels’ is such a vulgar term, Captain,” Domor said. “We prefer ‘guardians of Cardassian interests.’”
“That’s quite a mouthful,” Pike returned.
Domor inclined his head slightly. “We endeavor to be specific.”
“Well then,” Pike said, leaning forward slightly. “Why did Enal lead us to you?”
“Probably because she knew we could help each other, Captain,” Domor sat back in his chair. “If I told you that we know where the Central Command’s ‘alien prisoners’ are being stored - ”
“I and the rest of the Federation would be forever grateful,” Pike almost managed without any sort of sarcasm.
Domor exhaled through his nostrils loudly. “Gratitude means a great deal,” he said slowly. “But if I told you that they are being held in the most secure facility on the most secure planet in our vast Union?”
“I’d say let me worry about that.”
Domor raised an eye ridge. “Let me spell it out for you, Captain,” he said darkly. “Your Federation ships light our sensors like stars on a clear night, which means subterfuge is out of the question. And no matter how powerful your ship may be, it is still one ship. One ship against an entire fleet, which must remain intact for however long it takes your officers to locate those prisoners and extract them. That’s rather long odds, wouldn’t you say?”
“And I suppose you have an idea on how to even up the odds,” Pike drawled.
Jim and the other officers tensed.
“It is merely a suggestion,” Domor returned. “One you can choose to follow or not. And it is this: Join us.”
“Excuse me?”
“Let us just say, hypothetically of course, that my people are planning a strike on Cardassia Prime,” he began, raising his arms slightly. “We have a number of ships, most of which would be involved in this engagement. If your ship was to join ours, we could provide you cover as your men recovered your poor, kidnapped prisoners.”
“Why do you wish us to join you?” Spock asked suddenly, too calmly.
Domor eyed him in surprise. “Because you need us,” he said simply, steepling his fingers atop his desk.
“No,” Pike said, “you need us.”
Domor snorted, which devolved into amused, bitter chuckles. “I won’t deny that another ship, especially one with Federation capabilities, would be most welcome. But we don’t need you, Captain,” he said, leaning in. “Whether you join us or not, this attack will proceed as planned. We have waited far too long for this moment to retreat now. I am simply offering you the best chance you have of seeing those officers alive again, of retrieving them and saving them days of torture and agony.”
“Why?” Pike asked.
Domor looked at him for a moment or two. “Why what, Captain?”
“Why are you terrorizing and attacking your own people?”
Domor gave him the most affronted look Jim had seen since meeting the Cardassians. He looked…almost human, staring at his captain that way.
“Terrorizing? Terrorizing?” Domor hissed. “How dare you. My people are fighting to save Cardassia, and you accuse us of terrorism? Of all the-”
“One man’s terrorist is another’s freedom fighter,” Pike said simply.
Domor glared. “Until you understand, truly understand, what it means to be Cardassian, I suggest you refrain from making such bold statements, Captain. My people have sacrificed everything, have risked everything that matters, to be here.”
“Doesn’t change the facts,” Pike returned.
“Fine,” Domor growled. “You want the entire sordid story then, Captain? Well, I’m afraid it spans so much of our history that to give the full account would take far too long, and we are both busy men.”
He cut himself off, and almost seemed to brace himself before continuing.
“The bare facts are simple,” he said, standing and turning away from the Enterprise personnel. “My people are starving.”
That one word, starving, caught Jim in its grasp, almost hypnotizing him. Where his brain had been bouncing around, now - now, it was focused on the man in front of them.
“In our vast Union, not a planet exists that is free of poverty, disease, and starvation. While the civilians suffer and die, the military gets fat off our pain, completely oblivious at best and completely uncaring at worst.” Domor released a harsh breath. “The Obsidian Order quells all hints of rebellion. A man questions their almighty will, the next day he vanishes and his family prays he died quickly.”
The raw hint of pain in his voice told everyone in no uncertain terms he knew what he was talking about first hand. He stood at the window quietly for a few minutes, before he faced them again.
“I won’t lie to you and say all of my people have noble intentions. We don’t. There are plenty of anarchists and cowards among our ranks. But they make a small minority.”
“And if you do carry out this little rebellion, what’s to keep you in power? What stops you from ripping your society apart?” Pike asked.
“The rips have existed for centuries. That the military and order do not believe they will have to deal with them is not our fault.”
“I’ll consider your proposal,” Pike finally said as he stood. “You’ll have your answer in the next few hours.”
Domor inclined his head slightly. “Whatever your decision, Captain, it was an honor to meet you,” he said, extending his hand in the human gesture.
Pike took it, shook it, and released it. “You’ll send those transmissions to my ship.”
Domor nodded. “Of course, Captain. Complete and translated for your convenience.”
Pike nodded at his officers and they exited the conference room with Jim’s head spinning.
Rematerializing on the Enterprise brought immense relief to the entire entourage.
“Kirk, Spock, meeting in twenty minutes. Yeomen, get all the senior officers to the conference room now,” Pike barked.
Everyone exited the transporter room, with Pike heading directly to the bridge and Jim deciding a quick drink of water was paramount. For whatever reason, Spock attached himself to the security officer, a reason he quickly made clear.
“Are you in good health, Commander?” he asked, his hands held loosely behind his back.
Jim scowled as the turbolift doors closed behind them. “I’m fine. And before you go on your spiel I’ve been better, but I’ve been much worse, so can you just drop it?”
Oh, he’d been worse, as his dream during that catnap had gleefully reminded him. Spock straightened to the ‘Vulcan standard’ of posture.
“Jim, during the meeting with Domor, you seemed distracted and out of sorts. As first officer, it is my duty to ensure- ”
“A guy can’t be a little distracted? Jeez, Spock,” he sniped.
“A ‘guy’ may be. You, however, are a different matter. You are Chief of Security, and if your efficiency is compromised - “
“You know, I was beginning to think we were friends,” Jim interrupted again. “Nice to know your interest is strictly professional.” And the fact that Spock was hitting too close to home had nothing to do with his outburst. Nothing at all.
At that second the lift arrived at his destination and Jim stormed out. Retreated, if he was honest with himself.
The few quiet minutes he spent in the cafeteria passed with Jim trying to compose himself. Jim wasn’t a man given to bouts of quiet self-reflection if he could help it, but he had to admit that Spock had a point. What the hell was wrong with him? It wasn’t that damn dream, he’d been feeling weird for the last few months- the last few weeks especially. But what was it? Whatever it was, he had to get himself back together. They were in enemy territory and he was missing something obvious, he knew it. Something important about these people and this whole situation. And if he didn’t get it together…more people were going to die. And he just would not accept that, not one damn bit. He refused to let another of his people die because of him.
Jim, as he expected, was the last of the officers to arrive though he was still a couple of minutes early. He slid into his seat without so much as a ‘by your leave’ or a hello, completely oblivious to the look Bones and Spock exchanged. Pike quickly filled everyone else in on the particulars of their little meeting with the rebels, complete with outraged gasps from Uhura.
“I want options, people,” Pike said.
“I stand by my earlier argument. We should leave while we can. It is important to secure Valo from outsiders, and we must consider the possibility that these people are lying to us,” Spock said.
“Just leave those scientists with these Cardies, Mr. Spock? That sounds rather harsh,” Scotty said.
“Captain, I urge you to consider what I am saying. The bi’lite crystals will ease the burden on other planets which must now conserve their supply.”
“You’re more worried about crystals than living, breathing people?” Bones returned, though much of his usual teasing and/or venom was absent.
“I am more concerned about the objective that we may achieve. We should not involve ourselves in a civil war the Federation cannot afford to wage.”
“And what about what Domor said, huh?” Jim asked a little belligerently. “Their people are starving Spock, and under a military rule that seems ready to crush them.”
“That is what Domor says. We cannot simply take him at his word- ”
“What about that Gul whats-her-name, huh? She’s been pretty much implying the exact same thing.”
“She has also been supplying the rebellion. Logic dictates that she most likely shares some of their view-points, regardless of their validity.”
“So you’re going to just let them go out there and die without even checking their story? Let those scientists die because the rebellion might be lying?”
“I am saying that we should not risk the Enterprise nor her crew on such a flimsy premise, Commander,” Spock practically spat, as the others looked on like it was some malformed tennis match. “I would think, as Chief of Security, that would be your primary priority as well.”
Oh ho, that was hitting below the belt.
“Spock - ” Bones began, but Jim over-rode him.
“You think I like my people dying? You think I like all these damn risks we keep taking? Let me clear it up for you, Spock: I hate it. I hate every goddamn minute of it. But we have our mission, and that’s to retrieve those scientists no matter the risk. I’d say that aiding the good guys falls into that category, wouldn’t you?”
“Necessary risks, Commander,” Spock corrected. “I am not convinced this is a necessary one.”
“Well, what is a necessary risk, Spock?” Jim said, crossing his arms, “Letting people like that Inson run things? You know they’re going to come out of this space sooner or later. You want someone like him over Domor in charge when they do?”
“What I want has no bearing on what is,” Spock returned frostily, “And what is-”
“What we know is that seven good people are going to be tortured and killed, Spock,” Jim interrupted, “And we have the opportunity and obligation to stop it.”
“We have an obligation to the safety of the Federation first,” Spock said, his tone implying that that was the end of the conversation.
Which it wasn’t if Jim had anything to say about it.
“Look,” Bones said before either of them could get started again, “You both have a point but shouting at each other isn’t going to solve the problem.”
Jim and Spock both looked at him like he was crazy.
“We weren’t-”
“I object to that-”
“McCoy’s right,” Pike over-rode them, his tone hard and his gaze disappointed.
Both officers took the hint and quieted down.
“Now, Mr. Scott, what is your opinion on the Cardassian weaponry?” Pike shifted the conversation.
“As long as our shields are up, it’s like pea shooters against a brick house, sir,” he answered, “The trick is keeping them up.”
Pike nodded.
“And the sensors? Will we be able to target specific points on an enemy ship? The engines, the weaponry?”
Scotty sighed. “Unless by some miracle we learn what those hulls are made of and how to counter them, no, sir.”
“I’d like to point out we have two of the best visual shooters,” Jim supplied wearily, “Chekov and Riley had two of the top scores for firing without computer aid.”
“That is not the most efficient manner of conducting a battle,” Spock observed. It was true, computers were much quicker and more precise than their organic operators. But in a situation like this that didn’t matter.
“No, it isn’t, Mr. Spock,” Pike said, an almost mischieveous twinkle in his eye, “But it’s what the rebels will get. Uhura, contact Domor, get the basic schematics of a Cardassian military ship and the layout of our scientists’ prison. Building, city, anything and everything you can wrangle out of them.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Here’s the deal, folks. A contingent will take the Galileo and fly her to the planet while the rest of us hold off the military. We’ll stick it out until the battle’s obviously been decided in favor of one side over the other and then leave. Understood?”
The officers nodded.
“Good. Dismissed.”
-\/-
After the confrontation in the conference room, Jim seriously needed to cool down. He just couldn’t think straight and was baffled as to why. Sighing, he entered the deserted gym on the fifth deck. In a way, he was relieved, because he wanted to be alone, but at the same time the idea of being alone with nothing but his thoughts for company troubled him. Whatever. He needed to blow off some steam.
He started stretching on one of the blue mats, trying to work out the tension vibrating along his body when a sleek voice called, “Am I disturbing you?”
Jim turned, startled. Damn, these Cardassians moved like cats. His visitor raised an eye ridge at the movement as he stood in the doorway.
“Free gym,” Jim responded automatically.
The Cardassian - what was his name again - nodded, a comprehending look subtly dawning on his face and entered. Then Jim’s brain caught up.
“I thought you’d left,” he blurted out.
The Cardassian nodded as he stepped towards Jim and stopped at mat’s edge. “I did but as I have experience dealing with your computers, I was called upon to help Ensign Chekov convert our star and planetary maps. Our mathematics scale differs vastly from yours.”
Jim raised an eyebrow. “You’re pretty far from the bridge and conference rooms.”
Again, the man nodded but a small smirk worked its way to his lips. “I needed a break. The ensign is quite brilliant but his enthusiasm is rather…off-putting after a few hours.”
Jim shrugged, covering a snort. “And so you found your way down here?”
“Essentially,” he said. “I must say this ship is most impressive.”
“Thanks,” Jim said.
He and the Cardassian stayed in silence for a few minutes as Jim finished his stretching, more than a bit uncomfortable at having someone scrutinize him like he was a rather interesting science experiment.
“I’m sorry,” he said after a while as he stood, “but what’s your name again?”
“I am Glinn Ghemor, Commander,” Ghemor answered easily, “Think nothing of it. Though I am a bit surprised you asked rather than remain in ignorance.”
“Oh? And why’s that?”
“Rumor and supposition, Commander,” the Cardassian replied. “I have never met a human before but stories tell, among other things, of your race’s pride. It’s refreshing to find that some are exaggerated.”
Jim laughed, mostly at Ghemor’s tone. “Yeah, we can be sometimes. What about you guys?”
“Pride is a complicated matter for us,” Ghemor said, “though I will say that we rarely reintroduce ourselves once we meet an individual. Our memories are highly accurate.”
“If you say so,” Jim returned before he started towards one of the punching bags to begin his workout.
“Commander,” Ghemor said as Jim was about to throw his first punch. He turned his attention back on the Cardassian, who was looking at him strangely. “Do your people spar in hand to hand combat?”
Jim blinked as he digested the statement. Then he grinned. A spar sounded like a really good idea. “I’d love to spar you, Ghemor.”
“In that case,” Jim’s opponent said as he moved to the mat and rolled his shoulders, “we must establish ground rules. First pinned to the ground?”
Jim looked him over as he made his way back to the mat. The Cardassians in general were leaner than humans but he knew from experience not to judge strength from appearances. His throat and ribs found that out the hard way. At any rate, he and Ghemor looked a match for pure mass.
“Fine by me,” Jim said before nodding once and moving.
He closed the gap between them in the blink of an eye, throwing a quick punch towards the Cardassian’s ribs. Ghemor remained rooted until the last instant, blocking his attack with his arm - and, shit, that hurt. It was like Spock all over again. As Ghemor’s other hand struck Jim’s throat Jim ducked, scoring the first hit as a kick landed on the Cardassian’s shin. Ghemor stepped back before lunging forward, his momentum behind his fist.
Jim dodged and the man changed tactics in a split second, shoving his elbow into Jim’s stomach and knocking the wind out of him. Jim tried to use the second to land another kick, this one aimed at Ghemor’s knee, but the Cardassian turned his foot just so. It rendered the move futile, using Jim’s own momentum to send him to the ground. Once there the fight became even more of a knockout drag-out slugfest than it had been earlier. Jim almost pinned Ghemor at one point, but the second he was about to declare victory the Cardassian jabbed him with his elbow right where it hurt and turned the tables. He pinned Jim’s front on the floor, with one leg on one arm as he controlled the other.
Jim struggled uselessly for a few seconds before giving it up as futile.
“That was low,” he grumbled into the mat.
Ghemor snorted above him. “You never specified any condition beyond the pin, Commander,” he said in a low, scolding tone. “Perhaps in the future, you would do well to think on such things. After all, a thoughtless commander saves no one.”
Jim saw red. With a strangled cry he lashed out. Either Ghemor was too surprised to react fast enough or god forbid, he let Jim make contact, because several seconds later the two men were standing several feet apart, one set of eyes furious and wild, the other cool and assessing.
Jim rushed forward, not seeing the Cardassian in front of him. Instead that yellow skin, those dark smirks, the thrilll on those inhuman, inhumane faces clouded his vision. Her pained grunt, their breathy laughter filled his ears as he struck; never noticing the tears streaking his cheeks. On and on he went - this blow for Jameson, drowned by some amphibian sentient. This one for Doran, lion-like beings who even hunted themselves. This kick crippling Tau’s murderer-a bright red humanoid with two arms and two heads. Everything he had came pouring out of him.
They would never take another of his people again. Not ever. The faces morphed - one second he stared at the sharp canines of a weyrian, which became the mocking smirk of a Klingon general. Not good enough, not good enough, they all taunted him. He landed a hard blow as a thrill of satisfaction rushed through him. Take that. Nero laughed at him like this was his plan all along. Billions of people dead because he just wasn’t fast enough again. Never again. Jim growled and took a punch to his gut, all the better to get in close and strike the madman’s jaw. The dinalin caught his wrist, squeezing it hard as he went for the woman’s knee and twisted out of her grasp.
His nose broke with a sickening crack. Dammit, he wasn’t fast enough. Again. Just paid for it differently this time. The guards laughed again, this time in pity at the poor little boy playing hero. He roared and threw himself forward, anything to stop that sound. They must have grown a brain since last time, as they managed to pin him to the wall, his face meeting metal.
Wait - metal? Kodos’ compound walls were concrete.
Jim blinked, his eyes widening. Oh god.
“Are you yourself again, Commander?” a voice asked softly.
“Ghemor?” he rasped and was released. He turned to face the Cardassian, his scaled neck blue and his cheek bone jutting at an odd angle.
“Geez,” Jim babbled, completely embarrassed as he stepped forward, “Fuck, I’m so sorry. Let me - ”
Ghemor waved him off, putting a little distance between them.
“You should have seen me after my first training session,” he said instead of the reprimand or curses Jim expected. “I don’t believe I moved for a week after Enal was finished with me.”
He examined his hands and looked Jim over, before his brown gaze locked with Jim’s. “I accepted the risks when I requested the spar, Commander.”
Jim nodded almost dumbly as the Cardassian grabbed a bottle of water. He threw another at Jim, along with a towel for the bleeding. They stood in tolerant silence for a few minutes, Jim mopping up his nose and trying to sink into the floor.
Great, he berated himself, good going. You’ve probably just pissed off one of the people we can’t afford to have pissed at us.
“Commander,” Ghemor finally said, “If I may…”
Jim nodded and gestured for him to continue. Least he could was answer the other’s question.
“Where were you?” he asked. And if that wasn’t the first time Jim had heard a Cardassian sound remotely awkward, he’d eat gagh for a month.
“All over,” Jim finally replied.
An eye ridge rose but Ghemor nodded. “Are you willing to continue?”
Jim blinked in surprise. “What, you mean keep beating the crap out of each other?”
“Yes. Our first round was rather enjoyable. And informative,” he added as an afterthought.
“Informative?” Jim returned.
“Highly,” Ghemor said, arms crossed. “I hope you can say the same.”
Well, now that Jim thought about it - yes, their first round had been rather informative. Probably more than Ghemor realized.
Nah, the man was a fighter just like Jim. He knew, Jim could just tell, that someone could tell a lot about a culture by the way they fought. Ghemor fought from a distance, only closing the gap once a finishing move was guaranteed to succeed. And that ‘specifics’ bit… you needed to tell the Cardassians exactly what you wanted, if you wanted them to get it done.
No, Jim realized, a flash of ingenuity striking him as it hadn’t in months - Ghemor wasn’t telling him that. He was telling him that Cardassians slithered out of anything unless given a reason not to. Sticks and carrots didn’t work with these people. You had to draw clear lines in the sand, and be willing to beat them back to the other side when they strayed if you wanted to work with them.
A quick glance at that assessing, almost pleased, look told Jim his intuition was spot on.
“Sorry, just remembered that I need to check in with Spock on a few things. Another time?”
Ghemor nodded. “Another time then, Commander. I look forward to it.”
The Cardassian just kept smirking at him as Jim left.
-\/-
Tekham Ghemor stayed in the humans’ training room a while after the Commander left, lost in thought. He had thought - had believed - they were dealing with a people different from themselves.
All the intelligence they had pointed in that direction: The Federation was led by the human race, especially after that Romulan fiasco. A race who believed in fairness, truth, honesty, peace, and tolerance. And for the most part, Ghemor acknowledged, they were just as the stories described - all in all, a people who couldn’t possibly understand or work with the Cardassian people. Perhaps they could be intimidated or manipulated and through them, the Federation, but that was all. What the reports had failed to take into account, however - he shuddered before he could stop himself.
Grief-madness.
Ghemor had witnessed a superior fall into it years ago, and the experience branded itself within him. The man had lost everything: his wife, children, and family in the Lakarian City plague. The city had been quarantined before he could speak to them, much less see them again. He’d screamed and yelled, nearly crippling several of his officers in his grief before retreating into himself; muttering to his dead family as though they were still living. Ghemor had only been able to watch as the other officers tried to deal with him, frozen in a combination of pity and horror.
Grief-madness was rare among their people, thankfully. Some came out of it. Most however, did not; doomed to spend the rest of their lives locked inside fantasies to escape this life. Others tormented themselves, reliving the cause of the madness over and over until death claimed them.
Humans experienced grief-madness.
Humans experienced grief-madness. Ghemor had a hard time wrapping his mind around the idea, but no other explanation suited the Commander’s fit. And this new fact was cause for reassessment. They were not dealing with a people so unlike themselves, after all. The water to his people’s fire perhaps, but everyone knew fire and water were the closest of brothers.
The idea shook Ghemor to his core. They were dealing with people very close to Cardassians in some respects. For all that Cardassians lied and manipulated, his people valued the truth. Which meant… he cursed.
He stormed out of the training room. He had much to do.
-\/-
Instinctively, Jim sought out Bones after he briefed Pike on his Cardassian psyche guess. The sudden clarity his spar with Ghemor had granted him was quickly fading into exhaustion and…something else. He couldn’t decipher what was going on inside his own head, hadn’t been able to for awhile if he could admit it - that scared him. But one thing was certain: there could not be a repeat of what just happened in the gym. Goddamn it.
The first place he checked was sickbay, for obvious reasons, only to find the place empty; save for M’Benga, who politely reminded him that it was 23:24 by ship’s time and Bones was off duty. So Bones’ quarters it was. He trudged down the corridor until he came to the correct room and rang the bell.
From within, he heard clamoring and grumbling and barely bit-back curses Bones only bothered with since their assignment-because you didn’t want to be cursing your visitor out when he or she could actually be your Captain- before the door opened. Bones squinted at him, taking in Jim’s haggard and probably somewhat freaked out face.
Without a word, Bones stepped back to grant Jim entrance. Thank god.
The doctor didn’t say a word until Jim settled on the man’s couch, but the scrutinizing looks were as unnerving as an entire interrogation. Bones fiddled with his computer a moment before sitting across from Jim. Had Jim the energy, he might have been impressed that not a tricorder was in sight.
“What happened?” Bones asked quietly.
Jim didn’t answer for a long time, but Bones displayed an uncharacteristic patience. He simply sat there, waiting, not a trace of judgment on his face. And slowly, with great embarrassment on his part, Jim told him what happened in the gym. He left out the specifics of what he saw but if that look meant anything, Bones read enough between the lines.
“Jim, what you’re describing - ”
The chime rang, completely killing the mood. Bones rolled his eyes as Jim tried to uncurl himself in the chair.
Bones answered the door, and Jim’s eyes widened when it revealed Spock on the other side.
“You’re damn late,” Bones grumbled as Spock stepped over the threshold.
Jim scowled, a sense of betrayal washing through him.
“I apologize, doctor, but I had a few tasks to complete before I could assist you as you requested.”
“What is this, Bones?” Jim interrupted in outrage. “Why’re you calling him about me?”
“Don’t start getting defensive,” Bones said. “I asked him because you need him, kid.”
“Really?” Jim scoffed, “I need him? Why would-”
“Don’t finish that,” Bones ordered as he ushered Spock deeper in to his quarters.
Spock, for his part, looked rather undisturbed by Jim’s outburst.
“You’re not thinking straight right now so just trust me, will ya?”
“Not thinking straight? What, I’m crazy now? I actually come to you and this is what I get? Thank a lot, man,” Jim finished sarcastically.
“You are not crazy,” Spock said matter-of-factly as he took Bones’ vacated seat. He locked his gaze with Jim’s and refused to let him go. “You feel as though your chest is being constricted, as though you are drowning but you cannot see why. Your focus is not what it should be, but try as you might you cannot change it. You cannot, or do not, sleep because there is something waiting for you that you cannot fight.”
Jim only remembered to breathe once Spock quietly finished, releasing him from sort of spell.
“How - ” Jim choked out.
“Because he was suffering from the same thing, kid,” Bones broke in softly. “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.”
“I’m not - “
“Of course you’re not crazy,” Bones said. “It’s a mental disorder, a combination of biology and psychology. Damn, having it’s nothing to be ashamed of, and it certainly doesn’t make a person insane.”
Jim shifted his gaze back to Spock.
“When…” he trailed off.
“I came to Dr. McCoy one-point-three months into the mission.”
Well, that certainly explained how those two wound up so close so quickly.
“Jim,” Bones said, derailing Jim’s train of thought, “Look, you certainly aren’t the first soldier to go through this sort of thing and I guarantee you you won’t be the last. Hell, I should’ve seen it sooner.”
“It’s not your fault, Bones,” Jim told him.
Before Bones could reply, Spock spoke.
“The important thing now is that the problem has been identified and correcting it can now begin.”
Bones nodded. “Got that right.”
Jim looked at them warily.
“How?”
“I take and go through your brain scans and find the right combination of drugs to help you out for a little while. Then you make an appointment with a specialist. Caruthers is one of the best in the field.”
Jim made a face.
“Tonight, however, you’re talking to Spock and getting a tranquilizer.”
“Wait, what?” Jim gaped as Spock raised his eyebrow.
Bones chuckled. “Believe it or not, he can be a good listener.” Bones held up a hand to stall Jim’s reply. “Like it or not, you need to talk about it, preferably with someone know what you’re going through. I’m serious about this, Jim.”
And it was the look in Bones’ eyes that forstalled any attempt Jim might have made to wrangle out of this little heart to heart. Jim sighed and nodded in defeat. Bones turned to Spock.
“I’m going to go grab a short-acting tranq he’s not allergic to. Call me if either of you need me.”
Spock nodded.
“Of course, Leonard.”
They traded another set of looks, this one Jim couldn’t decipher even if he’d been operating at full capacity, before Bones left, the soft swish of the door closing behind him. Spock turned his attention on Jim.
The Security Chief sighed and settled in for the long haul.
-\/-
“Ghemor.”
The man froze in his tracks, slowly turning to face his superior officer. The moment passed, and he forced himself to relax.
“Follow me,” Enal said quietly, brushing past him in the complete opposite direction of the transporter room.
Nodding once, not that Enal saw - the gesture was more for his sense of propriety than anything - he followed the woman into the command hub of the Detrekal. Without a word, she drew Domor to her and the trio entered the ready room.
“What is so urgent, Domor?” she asked, locking the doors behind them.
“We’re receiving a lot of comm. traffic from the home world,” he started without preamble. “The viability is, of course, circumspect, but the military channels indicate your friends-” this he almost sneered, but luckily his baser survival instincts kicked in at the last moment- “made quite the impression on the Pre’lock. Such an impact that the military is recalling the entire sixth and fifth fleets back to Cardassia Prime. Of course,” he conceded, “we may just have a mole in our midst.”
“Either way, the Central Command has just made our task more difficult,” Ghemor said before locking eyes on Enal. “It may be wise to postpone this strike. We cannot stand up to both the home fleets and the others.”
“Of course, with the sudden loss of the Obsidian Order, sheer numbers may not make such a difference,” Domor countered.
“And we do have the Federation ship on our side,” Enal said.
Domor snorted.
“You really believe they will fight for us? I thought you left such idealism in your childhood.”
“Idealism has nothing to do with it,” she said calmly, crossing her arms. “They will not leave their people behind if they can rescue them. A predictable human weakness, if a useful one.”
“They cannot read Cardassian ships on their scanners,” Domor said as Ghemor kept quiet. He knew his place. “They could easily fire on one of our ships mistakenly.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Madam, we cannot afford the loss of even one ship to accident if we’re to take Cardassia.”
Enal fixed the man with her dark gaze. “Their presence is all I am concerned about. Any ship they accidentally fire upon is another two saved, because the military is concentrating their firepower on the Enterprise and not us.” She took a deep breath.
“We have no way of contacting our sleepers, correct?”
Domor nodded. “Not without arousing the Order’s suspicions.”
“Then we continue as planned.”
Part III
Part IIIb End Notes
Part Two
Their entrance into the nebula was harsh and rough before the stabilizers caught up. As Enal warned, the sensors went crazy the first several light years; but as promised, they slowly returned to normal as they reached the eye. Not that it made much of a difference, Jim reflected, as Scotty was still fiddling with the things to find the Cardassian style ships. However, just because the computers couldn’t find the ships didn’t mean that good old fashion eyes couldn’t either.
“We’ve arrived, sir,” Sulu reported. “Slowing to one quarter impulse.”
“Chekov, magnify the visuals,” Pike ordered calmly. “Let’s get a good look at what’s out there.”
Chekov complied and the viewing screen flashed systematically, the magnification increasing and decreasing as he visually searched each sector of space. Minutes passed until -
“Got it.”
All Jim could think at the sight before him was that maybe Spock had been right after all. Cardassian ships of all sizes filled the screen imposingly. These weren’t just black marketeers; they were an armada.
“Open a channel, Lieutenant,” Pike ordered calmly.
“Open, sir.”
“I am Captain Christopher Pike of the Federation starship Enterprise,” Pike said, motioning for the Cardassian trio on board to keep quiet.
“Captain Christopher Pike,” a Cardassian returned, “What brings you to such a remote corner of the galaxy?”
“I heard that you’re ones to talk to when someone has a problem with your military,” he said.
“Really, Captain? And who has been telling you such tales?”
“Whom do you think?” Enal said before Pike could reply.
The other end of the line was silent for a moment.
“Gul?” the voice said cautiously.
“Who else?” she said, “Surely the Do’lock informed you of the reason for my absence.”
“Of course, ma’am, we just -” There was a quick shuffling on the Cardassian end before another voice spoke.
“Captain Pike? This is the commanding officer of the vessel. Our superior would like to speak with you and the Cardassians you have aboard. You have nothing to fear from our ships. If you will give us the coordinates and number of people to transport, he will see you right away.”
“Will do. Pike out.” Pike motioned for the line to be cut and stood.
“Sulu, you have the conn. Spock, Kirk, you’re with me. Let’s not keep them waiting.”
Jim’s first thought upon beam-in was how dark the place was. The lights were dim by human standards, dark enough to even cause squinting. Shadow hid every corner and smoothed each edge. Compared to the Enterprise, the Cardassian vessel was like a night in the country lit only by stars.
“Welcome,” called a voice from the shadow, his face only partially lit by the console. “If you will follow me.”
“There is no need for you to leave your post,” Enal said commandingly, “I can escort them to your superior.” Without a word she strolled past the man.
“If you two would wait here,” she told her Cardassians. “I don’t expect this will take long.” They nodded and she stood at the now open door, waiting for the five Star fleet officers.
Jim’s officers joined her first before Pike stepped down without a backwards glance. Jim knew his captain was just as wary of the situation as he and Spock were from that action alone. The metal corridor that met them was, if anything, darker and more lifeless than the room they left. Barely a blip sounded through it, causing their footsteps to echo ominously. The only upside was that they heard another set long before the Cardassian came into view.
“Well, what do we have here?” he said, his voice lighter than any of the other Cardassians Jim had heard. The Cardassian’s hands were low and open in a welcoming manner. “I was beginning to think you’d never arrive, my friend.”
“Yes, yes, Gul Enal is once again late,” Enal said, sarcasm practically dripping from each syllable. Not even Spock was that good. The male’s eye ridge rose at the statement.
“Show a little consideration for our guests, Domor,” she gestured at the humans behind her. “They have traveled a long way to be here.”
Domor snapped to attention at her tone, surreptitiously eyeing the humans.
“Of course,” he said in a friendly manner, finally stepping around the woman. “Forgive me my negligence. I am Domor. Welcome to our humble little rebellion.”
Jim was certain he could’ve heard a pin drop in the seconds following that simple declaration. He glanced at Spock, who almost had that ‘see what happens when you don’t listen to me’ look on his face.
The Cardassians recovered the most quickly.
“I’m sorry, Enal didn’t inform you?”
“No,” Pike drawled, giving her the fastest, dirtiest look Jim had ever seen from the man. Nevertheless, the man stepped forward, a hand extended. “Captain Christopher Pike of the Federation star ship Enterprise.”
Domor looked at his hand a moment before taking it and shaking it. “A pleasure, Captain.”
“I did say that their methods were less than legal,” Enal said, smirking before she addressed Domor again. “Their scientists have been kidnapped and presumably taken to Cardassia Prime.”
Domor nodded. “That would fit the several ‘alien prisoners’ transmissions we have been intercepting,” he said slowly.
“Any mention of the prisoners’ conditions?” Pike asked.
Domor shook his head. “Just that they were alive, Captain,” he said, “If you would follow me. I don’t believe our upcoming conversation is one to have out in a hallway such as this.”
“I leave them in your capable hands, Domor,” Enal said.
The man smirked at her. “It touches me to know you trust me so.”
“Trust has nothing to do with it,” she retorted softly before heading back the way they came.
Domor shook his head. “The sad thing is she’s correct,” he muttered before leading the group to a rather small room deeper in the ship.
The office was spartan, decorated only by dark curtains framing a large window. Domor sat behind the desk, gesturing for Pike to take the other available seat. Pike did so, his officers flanking the chair just behind him. Jim noticed Spock in particular keeping a hand close to his weapon. In a way, Jim was grateful for it. It was taking more work than usual for him to maintain his focus and the idea that Spock still had things under control was a comforting one.
“So rebels, huh?” Pike said dryly, crossing his legs.
“‘Rebels’ is such a vulgar term, Captain,” Domor said. “We prefer ‘guardians of Cardassian interests.’”
“That’s quite a mouthful,” Pike returned.
Domor inclined his head slightly. “We endeavor to be specific.”
“Well then,” Pike said, leaning forward slightly. “Why did Enal lead us to you?”
“Probably because she knew we could help each other, Captain,” Domor sat back in his chair. “If I told you that we know where the Central Command’s ‘alien prisoners’ are being stored - ”
“I and the rest of the Federation would be forever grateful,” Pike almost managed without any sort of sarcasm.
Domor exhaled through his nostrils loudly. “Gratitude means a great deal,” he said slowly. “But if I told you that they are being held in the most secure facility on the most secure planet in our vast Union?”
“I’d say let me worry about that.”
Domor raised an eye ridge. “Let me spell it out for you, Captain,” he said darkly. “Your Federation ships light our sensors like stars on a clear night, which means subterfuge is out of the question. And no matter how powerful your ship may be, it is still one ship. One ship against an entire fleet, which must remain intact for however long it takes your officers to locate those prisoners and extract them. That’s rather long odds, wouldn’t you say?”
“And I suppose you have an idea on how to even up the odds,” Pike drawled.
Jim and the other officers tensed.
“It is merely a suggestion,” Domor returned. “One you can choose to follow or not. And it is this: Join us.”
“Excuse me?”
“Let us just say, hypothetically of course, that my people are planning a strike on Cardassia Prime,” he began, raising his arms slightly. “We have a number of ships, most of which would be involved in this engagement. If your ship was to join ours, we could provide you cover as your men recovered your poor, kidnapped prisoners.”
“Why do you wish us to join you?” Spock asked suddenly, too calmly.
Domor eyed him in surprise. “Because you need us,” he said simply, steepling his fingers atop his desk.
“No,” Pike said, “you need us.”
Domor snorted, which devolved into amused, bitter chuckles. “I won’t deny that another ship, especially one with Federation capabilities, would be most welcome. But we don’t need you, Captain,” he said, leaning in. “Whether you join us or not, this attack will proceed as planned. We have waited far too long for this moment to retreat now. I am simply offering you the best chance you have of seeing those officers alive again, of retrieving them and saving them days of torture and agony.”
“Why?” Pike asked.
Domor looked at him for a moment or two. “Why what, Captain?”
“Why are you terrorizing and attacking your own people?”
Domor gave him the most affronted look Jim had seen since meeting the Cardassians. He looked…almost human, staring at his captain that way.
“Terrorizing? Terrorizing?” Domor hissed. “How dare you. My people are fighting to save Cardassia, and you accuse us of terrorism? Of all the-”
“One man’s terrorist is another’s freedom fighter,” Pike said simply.
Domor glared. “Until you understand, truly understand, what it means to be Cardassian, I suggest you refrain from making such bold statements, Captain. My people have sacrificed everything, have risked everything that matters, to be here.”
“Doesn’t change the facts,” Pike returned.
“Fine,” Domor growled. “You want the entire sordid story then, Captain? Well, I’m afraid it spans so much of our history that to give the full account would take far too long, and we are both busy men.”
He cut himself off, and almost seemed to brace himself before continuing.
“The bare facts are simple,” he said, standing and turning away from the Enterprise personnel. “My people are starving.”
That one word, starving, caught Jim in its grasp, almost hypnotizing him. Where his brain had been bouncing around, now - now, it was focused on the man in front of them.
“In our vast Union, not a planet exists that is free of poverty, disease, and starvation. While the civilians suffer and die, the military gets fat off our pain, completely oblivious at best and completely uncaring at worst.” Domor released a harsh breath. “The Obsidian Order quells all hints of rebellion. A man questions their almighty will, the next day he vanishes and his family prays he died quickly.”
The raw hint of pain in his voice told everyone in no uncertain terms he knew what he was talking about first hand. He stood at the window quietly for a few minutes, before he faced them again.
“I won’t lie to you and say all of my people have noble intentions. We don’t. There are plenty of anarchists and cowards among our ranks. But they make a small minority.”
“And if you do carry out this little rebellion, what’s to keep you in power? What stops you from ripping your society apart?” Pike asked.
“The rips have existed for centuries. That the military and order do not believe they will have to deal with them is not our fault.”
“I’ll consider your proposal,” Pike finally said as he stood. “You’ll have your answer in the next few hours.”
Domor inclined his head slightly. “Whatever your decision, Captain, it was an honor to meet you,” he said, extending his hand in the human gesture.
Pike took it, shook it, and released it. “You’ll send those transmissions to my ship.”
Domor nodded. “Of course, Captain. Complete and translated for your convenience.”
Pike nodded at his officers and they exited the conference room with Jim’s head spinning.
Rematerializing on the Enterprise brought immense relief to the entire entourage.
“Kirk, Spock, meeting in twenty minutes. Yeomen, get all the senior officers to the conference room now,” Pike barked.
Everyone exited the transporter room, with Pike heading directly to the bridge and Jim deciding a quick drink of water was paramount. For whatever reason, Spock attached himself to the security officer, a reason he quickly made clear.
“Are you in good health, Commander?” he asked, his hands held loosely behind his back.
Jim scowled as the turbolift doors closed behind them. “I’m fine. And before you go on your spiel I’ve been better, but I’ve been much worse, so can you just drop it?”
Oh, he’d been worse, as his dream during that catnap had gleefully reminded him. Spock straightened to the ‘Vulcan standard’ of posture.
“Jim, during the meeting with Domor, you seemed distracted and out of sorts. As first officer, it is my duty to ensure- ”
“A guy can’t be a little distracted? Jeez, Spock,” he sniped.
“A ‘guy’ may be. You, however, are a different matter. You are Chief of Security, and if your efficiency is compromised - “
“You know, I was beginning to think we were friends,” Jim interrupted again. “Nice to know your interest is strictly professional.” And the fact that Spock was hitting too close to home had nothing to do with his outburst. Nothing at all.
At that second the lift arrived at his destination and Jim stormed out. Retreated, if he was honest with himself.
The few quiet minutes he spent in the cafeteria passed with Jim trying to compose himself. Jim wasn’t a man given to bouts of quiet self-reflection if he could help it, but he had to admit that Spock had a point. What the hell was wrong with him? It wasn’t that damn dream, he’d been feeling weird for the last few months- the last few weeks especially. But what was it? Whatever it was, he had to get himself back together. They were in enemy territory and he was missing something obvious, he knew it. Something important about these people and this whole situation. And if he didn’t get it together…more people were going to die. And he just would not accept that, not one damn bit. He refused to let another of his people die because of him.
Jim, as he expected, was the last of the officers to arrive though he was still a couple of minutes early. He slid into his seat without so much as a ‘by your leave’ or a hello, completely oblivious to the look Bones and Spock exchanged. Pike quickly filled everyone else in on the particulars of their little meeting with the rebels, complete with outraged gasps from Uhura.
“I want options, people,” Pike said.
“I stand by my earlier argument. We should leave while we can. It is important to secure Valo from outsiders, and we must consider the possibility that these people are lying to us,” Spock said.
“Just leave those scientists with these Cardies, Mr. Spock? That sounds rather harsh,” Scotty said.
“Captain, I urge you to consider what I am saying. The bi’lite crystals will ease the burden on other planets which must now conserve their supply.”
“You’re more worried about crystals than living, breathing people?” Bones returned, though much of his usual teasing and/or venom was absent.
“I am more concerned about the objective that we may achieve. We should not involve ourselves in a civil war the Federation cannot afford to wage.”
“And what about what Domor said, huh?” Jim asked a little belligerently. “Their people are starving Spock, and under a military rule that seems ready to crush them.”
“That is what Domor says. We cannot simply take him at his word- ”
“What about that Gul whats-her-name, huh? She’s been pretty much implying the exact same thing.”
“She has also been supplying the rebellion. Logic dictates that she most likely shares some of their view-points, regardless of their validity.”
“So you’re going to just let them go out there and die without even checking their story? Let those scientists die because the rebellion might be lying?”
“I am saying that we should not risk the Enterprise nor her crew on such a flimsy premise, Commander,” Spock practically spat, as the others looked on like it was some malformed tennis match. “I would think, as Chief of Security, that would be your primary priority as well.”
Oh ho, that was hitting below the belt.
“Spock - ” Bones began, but Jim over-rode him.
“You think I like my people dying? You think I like all these damn risks we keep taking? Let me clear it up for you, Spock: I hate it. I hate every goddamn minute of it. But we have our mission, and that’s to retrieve those scientists no matter the risk. I’d say that aiding the good guys falls into that category, wouldn’t you?”
“Necessary risks, Commander,” Spock corrected. “I am not convinced this is a necessary one.”
“Well, what is a necessary risk, Spock?” Jim said, crossing his arms, “Letting people like that Inson run things? You know they’re going to come out of this space sooner or later. You want someone like him over Domor in charge when they do?”
“What I want has no bearing on what is,” Spock returned frostily, “And what is-”
“What we know is that seven good people are going to be tortured and killed, Spock,” Jim interrupted, “And we have the opportunity and obligation to stop it.”
“We have an obligation to the safety of the Federation first,” Spock said, his tone implying that that was the end of the conversation.
Which it wasn’t if Jim had anything to say about it.
“Look,” Bones said before either of them could get started again, “You both have a point but shouting at each other isn’t going to solve the problem.”
Jim and Spock both looked at him like he was crazy.
“We weren’t-”
“I object to that-”
“McCoy’s right,” Pike over-rode them, his tone hard and his gaze disappointed.
Both officers took the hint and quieted down.
“Now, Mr. Scott, what is your opinion on the Cardassian weaponry?” Pike shifted the conversation.
“As long as our shields are up, it’s like pea shooters against a brick house, sir,” he answered, “The trick is keeping them up.”
Pike nodded.
“And the sensors? Will we be able to target specific points on an enemy ship? The engines, the weaponry?”
Scotty sighed. “Unless by some miracle we learn what those hulls are made of and how to counter them, no, sir.”
“I’d like to point out we have two of the best visual shooters,” Jim supplied wearily, “Chekov and Riley had two of the top scores for firing without computer aid.”
“That is not the most efficient manner of conducting a battle,” Spock observed. It was true, computers were much quicker and more precise than their organic operators. But in a situation like this that didn’t matter.
“No, it isn’t, Mr. Spock,” Pike said, an almost mischieveous twinkle in his eye, “But it’s what the rebels will get. Uhura, contact Domor, get the basic schematics of a Cardassian military ship and the layout of our scientists’ prison. Building, city, anything and everything you can wrangle out of them.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Here’s the deal, folks. A contingent will take the Galileo and fly her to the planet while the rest of us hold off the military. We’ll stick it out until the battle’s obviously been decided in favor of one side over the other and then leave. Understood?”
The officers nodded.
“Good. Dismissed.”
-\/-
After the confrontation in the conference room, Jim seriously needed to cool down. He just couldn’t think straight and was baffled as to why. Sighing, he entered the deserted gym on the fifth deck. In a way, he was relieved, because he wanted to be alone, but at the same time the idea of being alone with nothing but his thoughts for company troubled him. Whatever. He needed to blow off some steam.
He started stretching on one of the blue mats, trying to work out the tension vibrating along his body when a sleek voice called, “Am I disturbing you?”
Jim turned, startled. Damn, these Cardassians moved like cats. His visitor raised an eye ridge at the movement as he stood in the doorway.
“Free gym,” Jim responded automatically.
The Cardassian - what was his name again - nodded, a comprehending look subtly dawning on his face and entered. Then Jim’s brain caught up.
“I thought you’d left,” he blurted out.
The Cardassian nodded as he stepped towards Jim and stopped at mat’s edge. “I did but as I have experience dealing with your computers, I was called upon to help Ensign Chekov convert our star and planetary maps. Our mathematics scale differs vastly from yours.”
Jim raised an eyebrow. “You’re pretty far from the bridge and conference rooms.”
Again, the man nodded but a small smirk worked its way to his lips. “I needed a break. The ensign is quite brilliant but his enthusiasm is rather…off-putting after a few hours.”
Jim shrugged, covering a snort. “And so you found your way down here?”
“Essentially,” he said. “I must say this ship is most impressive.”
“Thanks,” Jim said.
He and the Cardassian stayed in silence for a few minutes as Jim finished his stretching, more than a bit uncomfortable at having someone scrutinize him like he was a rather interesting science experiment.
“I’m sorry,” he said after a while as he stood, “but what’s your name again?”
“I am Glinn Ghemor, Commander,” Ghemor answered easily, “Think nothing of it. Though I am a bit surprised you asked rather than remain in ignorance.”
“Oh? And why’s that?”
“Rumor and supposition, Commander,” the Cardassian replied. “I have never met a human before but stories tell, among other things, of your race’s pride. It’s refreshing to find that some are exaggerated.”
Jim laughed, mostly at Ghemor’s tone. “Yeah, we can be sometimes. What about you guys?”
“Pride is a complicated matter for us,” Ghemor said, “though I will say that we rarely reintroduce ourselves once we meet an individual. Our memories are highly accurate.”
“If you say so,” Jim returned before he started towards one of the punching bags to begin his workout.
“Commander,” Ghemor said as Jim was about to throw his first punch. He turned his attention back on the Cardassian, who was looking at him strangely. “Do your people spar in hand to hand combat?”
Jim blinked as he digested the statement. Then he grinned. A spar sounded like a really good idea. “I’d love to spar you, Ghemor.”
“In that case,” Jim’s opponent said as he moved to the mat and rolled his shoulders, “we must establish ground rules. First pinned to the ground?”
Jim looked him over as he made his way back to the mat. The Cardassians in general were leaner than humans but he knew from experience not to judge strength from appearances. His throat and ribs found that out the hard way. At any rate, he and Ghemor looked a match for pure mass.
“Fine by me,” Jim said before nodding once and moving.
He closed the gap between them in the blink of an eye, throwing a quick punch towards the Cardassian’s ribs. Ghemor remained rooted until the last instant, blocking his attack with his arm - and, shit, that hurt. It was like Spock all over again. As Ghemor’s other hand struck Jim’s throat Jim ducked, scoring the first hit as a kick landed on the Cardassian’s shin. Ghemor stepped back before lunging forward, his momentum behind his fist.
Jim dodged and the man changed tactics in a split second, shoving his elbow into Jim’s stomach and knocking the wind out of him. Jim tried to use the second to land another kick, this one aimed at Ghemor’s knee, but the Cardassian turned his foot just so. It rendered the move futile, using Jim’s own momentum to send him to the ground. Once there the fight became even more of a knockout drag-out slugfest than it had been earlier. Jim almost pinned Ghemor at one point, but the second he was about to declare victory the Cardassian jabbed him with his elbow right where it hurt and turned the tables. He pinned Jim’s front on the floor, with one leg on one arm as he controlled the other.
Jim struggled uselessly for a few seconds before giving it up as futile.
“That was low,” he grumbled into the mat.
Ghemor snorted above him. “You never specified any condition beyond the pin, Commander,” he said in a low, scolding tone. “Perhaps in the future, you would do well to think on such things. After all, a thoughtless commander saves no one.”
Jim saw red. With a strangled cry he lashed out. Either Ghemor was too surprised to react fast enough or god forbid, he let Jim make contact, because several seconds later the two men were standing several feet apart, one set of eyes furious and wild, the other cool and assessing.
Jim rushed forward, not seeing the Cardassian in front of him. Instead that yellow skin, those dark smirks, the thrilll on those inhuman, inhumane faces clouded his vision. Her pained grunt, their breathy laughter filled his ears as he struck; never noticing the tears streaking his cheeks. On and on he went - this blow for Jameson, drowned by some amphibian sentient. This one for Doran, lion-like beings who even hunted themselves. This kick crippling Tau’s murderer-a bright red humanoid with two arms and two heads. Everything he had came pouring out of him.
They would never take another of his people again. Not ever. The faces morphed - one second he stared at the sharp canines of a weyrian, which became the mocking smirk of a Klingon general. Not good enough, not good enough, they all taunted him. He landed a hard blow as a thrill of satisfaction rushed through him. Take that. Nero laughed at him like this was his plan all along. Billions of people dead because he just wasn’t fast enough again. Never again. Jim growled and took a punch to his gut, all the better to get in close and strike the madman’s jaw. The dinalin caught his wrist, squeezing it hard as he went for the woman’s knee and twisted out of her grasp.
His nose broke with a sickening crack. Dammit, he wasn’t fast enough. Again. Just paid for it differently this time. The guards laughed again, this time in pity at the poor little boy playing hero. He roared and threw himself forward, anything to stop that sound. They must have grown a brain since last time, as they managed to pin him to the wall, his face meeting metal.
Wait - metal? Kodos’ compound walls were concrete.
Jim blinked, his eyes widening. Oh god.
“Are you yourself again, Commander?” a voice asked softly.
“Ghemor?” he rasped and was released. He turned to face the Cardassian, his scaled neck blue and his cheek bone jutting at an odd angle.
“Geez,” Jim babbled, completely embarrassed as he stepped forward, “Fuck, I’m so sorry. Let me - ”
Ghemor waved him off, putting a little distance between them.
“You should have seen me after my first training session,” he said instead of the reprimand or curses Jim expected. “I don’t believe I moved for a week after Enal was finished with me.”
He examined his hands and looked Jim over, before his brown gaze locked with Jim’s. “I accepted the risks when I requested the spar, Commander.”
Jim nodded almost dumbly as the Cardassian grabbed a bottle of water. He threw another at Jim, along with a towel for the bleeding. They stood in tolerant silence for a few minutes, Jim mopping up his nose and trying to sink into the floor.
Great, he berated himself, good going. You’ve probably just pissed off one of the people we can’t afford to have pissed at us.
“Commander,” Ghemor finally said, “If I may…”
Jim nodded and gestured for him to continue. Least he could was answer the other’s question.
“Where were you?” he asked. And if that wasn’t the first time Jim had heard a Cardassian sound remotely awkward, he’d eat gagh for a month.
“All over,” Jim finally replied.
An eye ridge rose but Ghemor nodded. “Are you willing to continue?”
Jim blinked in surprise. “What, you mean keep beating the crap out of each other?”
“Yes. Our first round was rather enjoyable. And informative,” he added as an afterthought.
“Informative?” Jim returned.
“Highly,” Ghemor said, arms crossed. “I hope you can say the same.”
Well, now that Jim thought about it - yes, their first round had been rather informative. Probably more than Ghemor realized.
Nah, the man was a fighter just like Jim. He knew, Jim could just tell, that someone could tell a lot about a culture by the way they fought. Ghemor fought from a distance, only closing the gap once a finishing move was guaranteed to succeed. And that ‘specifics’ bit… you needed to tell the Cardassians exactly what you wanted, if you wanted them to get it done.
No, Jim realized, a flash of ingenuity striking him as it hadn’t in months - Ghemor wasn’t telling him that. He was telling him that Cardassians slithered out of anything unless given a reason not to. Sticks and carrots didn’t work with these people. You had to draw clear lines in the sand, and be willing to beat them back to the other side when they strayed if you wanted to work with them.
A quick glance at that assessing, almost pleased, look told Jim his intuition was spot on.
“Sorry, just remembered that I need to check in with Spock on a few things. Another time?”
Ghemor nodded. “Another time then, Commander. I look forward to it.”
The Cardassian just kept smirking at him as Jim left.
-\/-
Tekham Ghemor stayed in the humans’ training room a while after the Commander left, lost in thought. He had thought - had believed - they were dealing with a people different from themselves.
All the intelligence they had pointed in that direction: The Federation was led by the human race, especially after that Romulan fiasco. A race who believed in fairness, truth, honesty, peace, and tolerance. And for the most part, Ghemor acknowledged, they were just as the stories described - all in all, a people who couldn’t possibly understand or work with the Cardassian people. Perhaps they could be intimidated or manipulated and through them, the Federation, but that was all. What the reports had failed to take into account, however - he shuddered before he could stop himself.
Grief-madness.
Ghemor had witnessed a superior fall into it years ago, and the experience branded itself within him. The man had lost everything: his wife, children, and family in the Lakarian City plague. The city had been quarantined before he could speak to them, much less see them again. He’d screamed and yelled, nearly crippling several of his officers in his grief before retreating into himself; muttering to his dead family as though they were still living. Ghemor had only been able to watch as the other officers tried to deal with him, frozen in a combination of pity and horror.
Grief-madness was rare among their people, thankfully. Some came out of it. Most however, did not; doomed to spend the rest of their lives locked inside fantasies to escape this life. Others tormented themselves, reliving the cause of the madness over and over until death claimed them.
Humans experienced grief-madness.
Humans experienced grief-madness. Ghemor had a hard time wrapping his mind around the idea, but no other explanation suited the Commander’s fit. And this new fact was cause for reassessment. They were not dealing with a people so unlike themselves, after all. The water to his people’s fire perhaps, but everyone knew fire and water were the closest of brothers.
The idea shook Ghemor to his core. They were dealing with people very close to Cardassians in some respects. For all that Cardassians lied and manipulated, his people valued the truth. Which meant… he cursed.
He stormed out of the training room. He had much to do.
-\/-
Instinctively, Jim sought out Bones after he briefed Pike on his Cardassian psyche guess. The sudden clarity his spar with Ghemor had granted him was quickly fading into exhaustion and…something else. He couldn’t decipher what was going on inside his own head, hadn’t been able to for awhile if he could admit it - that scared him. But one thing was certain: there could not be a repeat of what just happened in the gym. Goddamn it.
The first place he checked was sickbay, for obvious reasons, only to find the place empty; save for M’Benga, who politely reminded him that it was 23:24 by ship’s time and Bones was off duty. So Bones’ quarters it was. He trudged down the corridor until he came to the correct room and rang the bell.
From within, he heard clamoring and grumbling and barely bit-back curses Bones only bothered with since their assignment-because you didn’t want to be cursing your visitor out when he or she could actually be your Captain- before the door opened. Bones squinted at him, taking in Jim’s haggard and probably somewhat freaked out face.
Without a word, Bones stepped back to grant Jim entrance. Thank god.
The doctor didn’t say a word until Jim settled on the man’s couch, but the scrutinizing looks were as unnerving as an entire interrogation. Bones fiddled with his computer a moment before sitting across from Jim. Had Jim the energy, he might have been impressed that not a tricorder was in sight.
“What happened?” Bones asked quietly.
Jim didn’t answer for a long time, but Bones displayed an uncharacteristic patience. He simply sat there, waiting, not a trace of judgment on his face. And slowly, with great embarrassment on his part, Jim told him what happened in the gym. He left out the specifics of what he saw but if that look meant anything, Bones read enough between the lines.
“Jim, what you’re describing - ”
The chime rang, completely killing the mood. Bones rolled his eyes as Jim tried to uncurl himself in the chair.
Bones answered the door, and Jim’s eyes widened when it revealed Spock on the other side.
“You’re damn late,” Bones grumbled as Spock stepped over the threshold.
Jim scowled, a sense of betrayal washing through him.
“I apologize, doctor, but I had a few tasks to complete before I could assist you as you requested.”
“What is this, Bones?” Jim interrupted in outrage. “Why’re you calling him about me?”
“Don’t start getting defensive,” Bones said. “I asked him because you need him, kid.”
“Really?” Jim scoffed, “I need him? Why would-”
“Don’t finish that,” Bones ordered as he ushered Spock deeper in to his quarters.
Spock, for his part, looked rather undisturbed by Jim’s outburst.
“You’re not thinking straight right now so just trust me, will ya?”
“Not thinking straight? What, I’m crazy now? I actually come to you and this is what I get? Thank a lot, man,” Jim finished sarcastically.
“You are not crazy,” Spock said matter-of-factly as he took Bones’ vacated seat. He locked his gaze with Jim’s and refused to let him go. “You feel as though your chest is being constricted, as though you are drowning but you cannot see why. Your focus is not what it should be, but try as you might you cannot change it. You cannot, or do not, sleep because there is something waiting for you that you cannot fight.”
Jim only remembered to breathe once Spock quietly finished, releasing him from sort of spell.
“How - ” Jim choked out.
“Because he was suffering from the same thing, kid,” Bones broke in softly. “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.”
“I’m not - “
“Of course you’re not crazy,” Bones said. “It’s a mental disorder, a combination of biology and psychology. Damn, having it’s nothing to be ashamed of, and it certainly doesn’t make a person insane.”
Jim shifted his gaze back to Spock.
“When…” he trailed off.
“I came to Dr. McCoy one-point-three months into the mission.”
Well, that certainly explained how those two wound up so close so quickly.
“Jim,” Bones said, derailing Jim’s train of thought, “Look, you certainly aren’t the first soldier to go through this sort of thing and I guarantee you you won’t be the last. Hell, I should’ve seen it sooner.”
“It’s not your fault, Bones,” Jim told him.
Before Bones could reply, Spock spoke.
“The important thing now is that the problem has been identified and correcting it can now begin.”
Bones nodded. “Got that right.”
Jim looked at them warily.
“How?”
“I take and go through your brain scans and find the right combination of drugs to help you out for a little while. Then you make an appointment with a specialist. Caruthers is one of the best in the field.”
Jim made a face.
“Tonight, however, you’re talking to Spock and getting a tranquilizer.”
“Wait, what?” Jim gaped as Spock raised his eyebrow.
Bones chuckled. “Believe it or not, he can be a good listener.” Bones held up a hand to stall Jim’s reply. “Like it or not, you need to talk about it, preferably with someone know what you’re going through. I’m serious about this, Jim.”
And it was the look in Bones’ eyes that forstalled any attempt Jim might have made to wrangle out of this little heart to heart. Jim sighed and nodded in defeat. Bones turned to Spock.
“I’m going to go grab a short-acting tranq he’s not allergic to. Call me if either of you need me.”
Spock nodded.
“Of course, Leonard.”
They traded another set of looks, this one Jim couldn’t decipher even if he’d been operating at full capacity, before Bones left, the soft swish of the door closing behind him. Spock turned his attention on Jim.
The Security Chief sighed and settled in for the long haul.
-\/-
“Ghemor.”
The man froze in his tracks, slowly turning to face his superior officer. The moment passed, and he forced himself to relax.
“Follow me,” Enal said quietly, brushing past him in the complete opposite direction of the transporter room.
Nodding once, not that Enal saw - the gesture was more for his sense of propriety than anything - he followed the woman into the command hub of the Detrekal. Without a word, she drew Domor to her and the trio entered the ready room.
“What is so urgent, Domor?” she asked, locking the doors behind them.
“We’re receiving a lot of comm. traffic from the home world,” he started without preamble. “The viability is, of course, circumspect, but the military channels indicate your friends-” this he almost sneered, but luckily his baser survival instincts kicked in at the last moment- “made quite the impression on the Pre’lock. Such an impact that the military is recalling the entire sixth and fifth fleets back to Cardassia Prime. Of course,” he conceded, “we may just have a mole in our midst.”
“Either way, the Central Command has just made our task more difficult,” Ghemor said before locking eyes on Enal. “It may be wise to postpone this strike. We cannot stand up to both the home fleets and the others.”
“Of course, with the sudden loss of the Obsidian Order, sheer numbers may not make such a difference,” Domor countered.
“And we do have the Federation ship on our side,” Enal said.
Domor snorted.
“You really believe they will fight for us? I thought you left such idealism in your childhood.”
“Idealism has nothing to do with it,” she said calmly, crossing her arms. “They will not leave their people behind if they can rescue them. A predictable human weakness, if a useful one.”
“They cannot read Cardassian ships on their scanners,” Domor said as Ghemor kept quiet. He knew his place. “They could easily fire on one of our ships mistakenly.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Madam, we cannot afford the loss of even one ship to accident if we’re to take Cardassia.”
Enal fixed the man with her dark gaze. “Their presence is all I am concerned about. Any ship they accidentally fire upon is another two saved, because the military is concentrating their firepower on the Enterprise and not us.” She took a deep breath.
“We have no way of contacting our sleepers, correct?”
Domor nodded. “Not without arousing the Order’s suspicions.”
“Then we continue as planned.”
Part III
Part IIIb End Notes