Resistance, Sequel to ‘Renaissance of the Daleks.’

[NecronLord]

Some notes. This is a Sequel to Renaissance of the Daleks, a crossover fanfic of horribly unbiased proportions I did in July 2003. This one is set seven months later, after the fall of most of the federation, and will explore the efforts of the remnants of Starfleet to thwart the invader's plans.

You don't need to have read the last one, indeed, given the improvement in the quality of my writing since (perhaps I delude myself, but I hope not), I'd rather you didn't, but still, here is the link anyway. The Prologue recaps on most of what happened in the last one.

Obviously, a brief working knowledge of the Dr Who universe and the Star Trek one is very useful. The Daleks of this fic are the ones around the Dalek Empire era, and are highly advanced technologically. For Star Trek, I will be using, in some cases, characters, and more importantly, ships, from the games.

<Insert Fanfic Disclaimer Here>

----

Resistance, Sequel to ‘Renaissance of the Daleks.’
By Joseph Wilson

Prologue:

Annika Hansen, representative of the Dalek Empire, formerly Seven of Nine, of the Federation Starship Voyager, formerly tertiary adjunct of unimatrix zero one of the Borg Collective, looked at the Vorta functionary in front of her with barely concealed distaste. She ran a finger through her hair, brushing her left eyebrow where up until recently, a prosthetic reminder of her years as Borg had remained. She still had implants, a great many of them, but these had been designed more subtly.

Seven months ago, it seemed to have been to Annika, the starship Voyager was destroyed, and a small portion of its crew, including herself, had been captured. She didn’t have much memory of what followed, barring that she’d been experimented on. Apparently the Daleks wanted a new advantage over a race similar to the Borg in their own timeline, and analysing what was left of Borg technology in her may have yielded useful information about their development.

Then, rather than kill her, they had implanted numerous replacement parts. She hadn’t asked, but it was one of the numerous strategies of the Supreme Council, adopted to, ease ‘negotiations’ and subjugation. This had also necessitated a rather dramatic personality change. Many members of the ship’s crew would have been horrified by the new personality, cruel, vindictive and spiteful, rather like the Daleks themselves, but with enough charm and charisma to deceive. Ironically, some would say that the aliens had made Annika more human than the Voyager crew; she certainly looked it, human weaknesses and flaws as well.

“Mister Moron,” she said, her lips pulled into a thin smile. A thin smile over barred teeth.
“Mo’aren,” the obsequious Vorta corrected, oblivious to her deliberately hostile manner.
“Moron,” she continued, watching with concealed amusement as the Dominion representative bristled, “allow me to inform you of a few pertinent facts that may influence your decision. First, as you are no doubt aware, Borg activity on your borders has collapsed to nothing.”
He nodded, “Yes, though they’ve not caused us any problems in recent history, they’ve always been a threat, but they seem to have withdrawn inward of late.”
“While I hesitate to claim that we have destroyed the Borg for you, they are resilient, we have fractured them and dealt a massive blow to their fleets.”

If scepticism were water, Mo’aren would have drowned by now. “So you say,” he smiled, guardedly, “but I don’t see why that is any concern of the Dominion’s.”

“Further, the Alpha Quadrant powers you were so humiliatingly beaten by,” Annika’s smile widened, showing white teeth that clicked as the snapped them, for just a moment, taking a deep breath, “are all either falling back on all fronts, totally disintegrated and conquered, or have surrendered to us.”

“We only lost,” the Vorta was clearly not pleased by the memory, “because we were cut off from reinforcing our positions.”
“Be that as it may,” she said, “you still lost. Earth is destroyed; do you want your own worlds to follow? We have offered you generous terms. Terms the Federation would have fought tooth and nail for, and you have the terminal foolishness to turn them down?”

He glared at her, she had him rattled, somewhere in his consciousness, that she could tell, but he replied defiantly nonetheless, “You are bluffing,” he said, “and the Dominion will not surrender its sovereignty based on your outrageous claims of awe inspiring power and capability.”

Annika rose from the table, draped in a white cloth on the open plain, pushing her chair back, “Humans have a phrase, you may have heard of it,” she said, “Better a big fish in a small pond than a little fish in a large pond. You, and your so-called dominion will have to learn. You may have been the big fish until now. But now, now a shark has arrived in your pond.”

She returned the changeling servant’s glare, and he recoiled as if he expected to be struck, “And you I look forward to meeting again. The next time I see you, you will wish you had taken my terms today. I guarantee it.” Mo’aren was heartened by the slow speed the transporter she disappeared into seemed to operate at. At least that was inferior, but if all the rumours were true, then the woman had indeed been speaking the truth.


Chapter One
Star-base one hundred fifty two had been established to co-ordinate the mining of dilithium in the Ketaris System, near the Romulan Neutral Zone. But that time was long gone. Now the starbase was as close to a self contained community as the Federation had ever been. Resistance cells were operating on occupied worlds, but the command of the United Federation of Planets believed that their best chance for continued existence relied on something of the fleet surviving. Thus, they had taken the few starbases, such as this one, that the Daleks had not located in their invasion, and turned them into true fleet bases.
One Fifty Two was such a star-base, its extensive mining facilities, in the blasted ruin of a double planet, were quite capable of supporting its power demands, and thus its replicators, indefinitely. A cloud of hydrogen and less easily understood particles surrounded the planet, and kept the range of most sensors down, while providing an abundant source of deuterium.

The flagship of the impromptu task force that had been established in the Ketaris system bore an honoured name. Enterprise. The vessel that had saved the Federation, in its many forms, so many times that it would have seemed implausible were it not true. It had been one of the few ships to survive the Battle of Earth, fleeing into warp as the planet, cradle of humanity, home of the Federation, was destroyed. The atrocity had shocked and horrified the entire Alpha Quadrant. The Daleks had done it entirely casually, almost a gesture of contempt. Thousands of years of history, billions of people, erased simply because, most people thought, it had been decided that it would make an effective demonstration.

The most horrifying thing, to the rest of humanity, was the way this had succeeded. Vulcan had immediately entered negotiations for surrender, as almost everyone expected it to. It was after all, the logical thing to do. Andor, Bajor, Trill, dozens of Federation Members either surrendered unconditionally, as in the case of Vulcan and Trill, or declared neutrality, as Bajor and Andor had.

More chilling still was the effect the demonstration had had on the Romulan Star Empire. It had been true in human history that resistance groups hated and loathed those who stood by, or allowed themselves to be dominated, but that this hatred was nothing compared to the loathing and contempt reserved for collaborators. It was true centuries after the last war on Earth had ended too.

Captain Jean Luc Picard had often imagined the destruction of the Earth. It had haunted his nightmares. The Borg had been a staple, ever since their first encounter, and even more since the Enterprise-D, the predecessor ship of the one he sat on now, had encountered an alternate version of his first officer from a reality where the cybernetic menace had conquered the Federation.

It struck him as ironic, that now, he almost envied that version of Riker. The despair he felt was deep, a yawning black pit that he always felt himself to be hanging above by his very fingertips. Every day, many times, he would battle, tell himself that there was still hope for the Federation, but he could not see it. He could only see the reports of new capitulations, new conquests, and new defeats.

The war, he felt hysteria at even thinking of it as such, rather than some form of elaborate butchering, had been going on for seven months. Seven months without a victory, even a phyrric victory would be welcome, against the Daleks.

Their Romulan toadies, sometimes, were defeated, in skirmishes. But to do so only brought some new and dire retaliation from their masters. This, he had long ago decided, was why the Federation had insisted on Ship’s Counsellors. The depression would have resulted in massive numbers of suicides, as opposed to large numbers of suicides, were it not for them.

Picard was looking at the reports of the construction of the USS Justice, a somewhat cut back, somewhat modified, Sovereign class vessel, the second ship they’d managed to produce here since they’d finally brought the new, advanced shipyards online near the asteroid ring from the devastated moon, interspersed liberally with dilithium deposits, when the voice of Geordi LaForge came over the comm., into the Captain’s ready room.
“Sir,” the engineer said, “I think you ought to get up here.”

The bearded, he couldn’t be bothered to shave any more, acting commander was in motion almost instantly, heading out of the Captain’s Ready Room, and onto the bridge. “What’s up?” he asked.

“There’s a federation ship entering the system. Badly damaged.”
“Identity?”
“That’s what’s odd Sir,” he replied, “it doesn’t have one, just NX and then five zeroes, and it doesn’t match anything in the computer records either, it could be some kind of Defiant variant, but it’s definitely a federation ship.”
“I recognise it,” said Commander Data, “it was part of a so-called black operation established by Admiral Nolotai around eleven months ago.”
“Life sig-“
“We are being hailed.”
“On screen…”

════

Annika piloted the squat Dalek made shuttle with expert ease. She had little experience with its design, but her mind contained enough data on manipulating the large glowing buttons and other auxiliary controls to operate it smoothly. If she wanted, she could have flown the vessel by neural interface, but the reaction times were much the same.

She looked at the massive shape of the Dominion Dreadnought orbiting the planet they had concluded their… negotiations on, and sighed almost wishing they tried something. At least that would have been interesting, in this vehicle, challenging even. The Supreme Controller did not enjoy hearing about failures on her part, but she had to report in regardless. The surgical alterations that ensured her loyalty made sure that she did not even consider failing to report in as soon as possible. Besides, most of what she saw or thought was recorded and accessible over the command network linking all Dalek… assets together.

Tapping a few buttons on the communications console, she was greeted by the static hum of the communicator waiting for a connection to be established. The Dalek’s voice was grating and full of metallic reverb. It was almost as if someone had locked a dozen angry hornets in a tin can, and used it as part of a speaker system.

“Report,” it demanded, and the agent leaned back in her chair, “The negotiations failed, they do not believe.”
The Dalek was silent for a moment, “We must acquire their technology if Project Sorvad is to succeed,” it said, angrily.
“Yes,” the human replied, “but they will not give it willingly.” There was another pause, as if the Controller was consulting something.
“Agreed,” it screeched, “Project Sorvad is not your concern for now. Proceed to Romulus and gather information on the dissident threat our agents have reported.”

The comm. broke off, and in her mind, Annika could feel a message arriving through the command network. It was from the Supreme Controller, reports on Romulan activities.

════

The USS Incursion, the defiant variant, was in a state of chaos. Captain ReFalian, its commanding officer, was unconscious from wounds sustained in the battle, as was the first officer, leaving the command to the chief of the Science Department, a tall man, sporting facial scarring both fresh, and, surprisingly given the omnipresence of dermal regenerators in the Federation, old.

He leaned forward in the burnt command chair as the somewhat familiar face of the Federation’s greatest living hero appeared. “Captain Picard, I am lieutenant commander Verov,” he said, exalted to have found the base, “No time to explain the damage. I must tell you of something the Romulans are planning. It’s crucial to any hope of rebuilding the Federation…”

[consequences]

So, is this one going to end up even more hopeless and horribly(yet accurately) one-sided as the last one? After all, its normally the second part of the triology when things really turn to shit.

[Crazedwraith]

Very nice is that the Star Trek: Away Team crew?

[NecronLord]

Maybe... I'm not entirely sure on which ending to use...

[NecronLord]

Very nice is that the Star Trek: Away Team crew?

It is indeed. Mostly because I found that game the other day going cheap (with Armada too) and have been playing it, and it inspired me to finally write this.

[Crazedwraith]

Very nice is that the Star Trek: Away Team crew?

It is indeed. Mostly because I found that game the other day going cheap (with Armada too) and have been playing it, and it inspired me to finally write this.

Lucky Bastard, the damn game never works on my shitty comp.

Also does this mean your not going to be writing more terminatrix?

[NecronLord]

Also does this mean your not going to be righting more terminatrix?

I must confess that it's looking unlikely.

And Away Team is actually pretty cool.

Though I was astonished and horrified when Borg Drones started shooting back...

[NecronLord]

Chapter Two

Ivan Verov sat in the USS Incursion’s science laboratory with one of his assistants, Aloram Vas, a Bajoran lieutenant. The Bajoran woman was busy on the subject again, trying to improve the interface for its data cache as Captain Picard arrived. He turned, speaking in his broad Russian accent, “Ah, captain, good,” he said, “and Mister Data Sir, even better.”

Picard nodded, and then looked behind the Russian, his gaze being inevitably drawn to the Bajoran woman behind him, and more importantly, at what she was working on. The shattered form of a red Dalek casing trailed dozens of wires, its weapon gone, its claw hanging inert, and its head blasted clean off.

“Well,” Picard said, “a dead Dalek. Quite a rarity that.”

“Yes Captain,” said Verov, glancing at the captain, “we didn’t get what we’d hoped for from its onboard computer,” after a quizzical look from Data he added, “We recently intercepted a Romulan Shrike class fast transport and took this Dalek from it, we’ve learnt that each Dalek carries an extensive computer inside its casing, and we hoped to be able to access it.

“An intriguing proposal,” said Data, “I take it you only had limited success.”

“Yes, accessing its auxiliary storage module released a virus from a hidden processor into the analysis computer,” said Aloram, “fortunately they’ve omitted to put such safeguards into their processors caches, and we’ve been able to access some of the data this dalek had been reviewing before the altercation,” she straightened up, wiping the grease from her hands onto the sleeve of her uniform and walking over to join the other science officer.

Verov tapped a few keys on the smooth board in front of him, and a wall-mounted display sprang to life. There was a screen full of small text in the strange script of the Daleks, “We’ve compiled a basic translation algorithm,” he said, and ran the text through it.”

It took only a few moments for Data to read the screen, “This is indeed grave news Captain,” he said, “it appears that this Dalek learnt of a Romulan plan to develop a powerful weapon from archive material taken from the Federation, and use it against the Daleks.”

“I can’t say that this is a major problem for me, ethically speaking Mister Data,” replied Picard, somewhat confused. The Federation’s scientific research had been broader than that of the Romulans, and there were many devastating weapons concepts that the Federation had access to but never fully developed.

“The problem is, the Dalek had allowed the Romulans to believe they have deceived him, when in fact it appears they are willing to allow the Romulans to make a measure of progress in the research, and then take it for themselves.”

“Here, you can see the problem. This Dalek refers to this Romulan Research as a key step in their plans for the Galaxy,” said Verov, “It is of key importance that we prevent them from acquiring it.”

════

The Incursion’s sickbay was a familiar sight for Captain Marcus ReFalian, the tall and heavily built man had been here many times, thanks not only to occasional wounds in the line of duty, such as the rather worrying arm injury in the last mission, but also because of the ruthless way he drove himself to the peak of physical performance. He flexed his fingers experimentally, and, satisfied that there’d been little permanent harm from the disruptor burn, he stood, and pulled on a dark blue jacket over the standard Starfleet uniform.

He’d heard that the famous and respected Picard was aboard, and it was definitely time to find him.

════

Captain’s Log, USS Incursion

It has been decided that in order to attack the Romulan Outpost at Dderas Station, we will need to infiltrate the base. From our information, Dderas Station is protected at all times by at least a dozen warbirds and smaller vessels, and requires special, regularly altered pass codes to permit entry. We have ‘borrowed’ a cloaking device from a Klingon B’rel, and are using it to cloak the ship. We intend to ambush a Romulan scout ship on the route between Romulus and Dderas Station, and use it to gain access to the Romulan Research facility. Time is critical; we cannot have long before the Daleks arrive to collect their research.

════

Dalek central control in the Solar System was a rather small outpost, on the surface of the third planet, Mars. In the central tower of its heavily defended perimeter, between guarded buildings and landing pads, shielded and protected by high and broad conventional walls, the Dalek controller of the sector had called a meeting with several others of its kind. They sat in a small room, around a podium.

The black encased commander began, “Our agent from Romulus has not arrived.”

An underling replied, “We must assume that the Romulans have exterminated him.”

“Yes,” it said in its grating tone, “and thus we must act in retaliation.”

”If they have learnt our agent’s mission, we must act quickly in order to prevent their conspiracy becoming further hidden from us.”

“We will route our human agent to investigate their activities further when she arrives on Romulus, and send a ship to assist,” the leader said.

“Agreed,” replied a third dalek, nodding its eyestalk in a human mannerism it had picked up unconsciously at some point.

“Transmit new orders!” ordered the leader.

The third Dalek connected the plug on its manipulator arm to the plinth, replying with the inevitable comment of obedience as it did so.

════

Annika blinked as her orders were updated. She was already on the Romulan home world. She scrolled quickly through the Dalek transmission, and breathed a sigh of relief. It was not a major change to her plans. She continued talking all the while as if nothing had happened, sipping occasionally from a tall fluted glass of a blue alcoholic drink.

“Of course Senator,” she said, looking at the Romulan opposite her, “you must understand that while we are prepared to give our best wishes, we really can’t take sides in this issue, except to say that the Dalek empire will continue to be a guarantor of Bajoran neutrality…”

════

The Incursion waited in the gap between two Romulan Sensor buoys. These routes in Romulan space possessed buoys, able to detect interloping ships, even cloaked ships in some cases, and linked torpedo platforms. Such guarded corridors of space allowed for rapid trade between worlds. The federation had tried something similar, but the comparative density of Romulan Space made it much easier for them.

Their destination, Dderas Station, sat at a crossroads, and was a major stopping point for travellers to and from Romulus to five separate systems. Refeian suspected that they would not have to wait long for an appropriate Romulan vessel to arrive.

He was more concerned about the presence of Picard aboard his ship. The man hadn’t lived up to his reputation at all. It was only natural, Marcus expected, and understandable. The few survivors of the Battle of Earth he’d met were often guilt stricken, prone to panic, and left with an inferiority complex. They had failed to save Earth, and thought that they were good for little else.

Picard was like that, he had decided. He may have been an excellent captain once, but the fire was gone, and the caution in him had multiplied like a disease. Refeian knew he would have problems with Picard on this mission. There was a member of his crew, a Vulcan of exceptional strength, who he would have to keep near on hand, just in case the other Captain tried to foul the mission up...

The bridge of the ship was a little different, but substantially the same as the standard Defiant class, and thus the superfluous presence of Picard and Data made the small eight man bridge seem cramped. Refeian was practically relieved when the helmsman announced a target just leaving the sensor area of the nearest Romulan outpost.

Refeian stood and walked over to the weapon’s console, “Prepare to decloak,” he said, again thanking the fortune that had caused the Romulans on their Neutral Zone outposts to become slack in the extreme since the fall of the Federation. He looked at the small display of the Romulan Scout Ship, “Excellent,” he said, “This should do nicely. Alert the boarding party, prepare to fire photons,” he added, preferring the cheaper photon torpedos to the more powerful quantum torpedoes, as a single proximity blast from the latter could cripple their target ship. “Open fire as soon as they come into range.”

[Crazedwraith]

Sweet. It's devolping nicely.

[NecronLord]

Rule of Aquisition #1933 :When Daleks are the guarantors of your neutrality, you're proper fucked.

[Imperial Overlord]

I had to resist cackling evily when I read "Daleks guarantor of Bajoran neutrality."

Project Sorvad? I hope you didn't think this was hard to figure out.

I long to see Daleks coasting through a Federation starship crying "Exterminate! Exterminate!"

[Dartzap]

If you have read the first one, then you would have, ..

Damn NL, bringing him back? thats just unfair!

[NecronLord]

Project Sorvad? I hope you didn't think this was hard to figure out.

Perhaps it is. Perhaps it isn't. It is probably not entirely what you think it is. It requires Dominion Cloning Technology but likely for a different reason than you imagine.

Damn NL, bringing him back? thats just unfair!

Perhaps, perhaps not. As I've said in the past, I always felt that Davros weakened the daleks as dramatic characters. With the exception of Genesis of the Daleks, he has always been debilitating to them. A prime example would be Destiny of the Daleks, which practically makes them out to be robots, lost without him.

[Kuja]

Nice story, but I want to see the Daleks KICKING SOME ASS!

[mr friendly guy]

I wonder what weapons the Romulans are trying to research?

Genesis device maybe, since its supposedly technology pilfered Federation research.

Personally I would love to see the Romulans use a Thaleron device on the Daleks just to find out whether it will destroy the organic creature inside since they are suppose to live in high radiation environments.

[Imperial Overlord]

Imperial Overlord wrote:
Project Sorvad? I hope you didn't think this was hard to figure out.


Perhaps it is. Perhaps it isn't. It is probably not entirely what you think it is. It requires Dominion Cloning Technology but likely for a different reason than you imagine.

Oh, I'm sure you have many wonderful and terrible surprises for us. But reversing the name is a rather old trick.

And I agree about Davros. The Daleks forged an intergalactic empire without that demented megalomaniac. How badly could they really need him?

I am looking forward to you next installment.

[NecronLord]

Chapter 3

The Romulan vessel’s shields vanished almost instantly as it was struck by the explosion from the photon torpedo. In the rear compartment, a dozen round spheres appeared in the shimmering blue light of federation transporters. They fell, and a loud, resounding flash, rippling pulses of phaser energy causing the few Romulans in the chamber to collapse, stunned.

More transporter shimmers followed, and five heavily armed soldiers appeared, thick black battle dress designed to reduce the effects of disruptor energies hitting them. The team moved with easy grace, sweeping around the room with a variety of phaser rifles, dependant mainly on personal preference.

The black clad figures, wearing sealed face masks, took up position by the forward compartment, two on either side of the door, a third crouching, greanade in one hand, disruptor pistol in the other.

They opened the door, and in seconds, the resistance in the forward compartment was quelled. The shock grenades proved decisive rolled in first, it was simply a matter of stunning the ship’s captain and two other crewmembers. The Romulan vessel was secured easily.

════

Captain Picard was not truly irritated by the loss of his beard, but the hair was a little too much. Their mission had entailed going to Romulan space, and that was apparently what would be required to look like a normal Romulan. “These damned tunics always itch,” muttered Verov, also deprived of what had been a much more neatly trimmed goatee, and with more hair than he was used to.
Picard looked over at the science officer, “You’ve been behind Romulan lines before?”

“As have you Captain Picard,” said the other captain, sitting down in the central chair of the forward compartment, “Have you got that code mister Verov?”

The science officer replied that it wasn’t in the computer, and Marcus nodded, standing and walking into the rear compartment. On instinct, Picard followed. They had the Romulan ship’s captain there, tied to a chair. Picard was surprised, but Refelian showed no surprise. “Mister Slovaak,” he said, to one of the nearby men, a Vulcan, “Would you be so kind as to extract the clearance codes from our friend here.”

Picard was astonished by the casual manner he said this in, but even more by the way the Vulcan didn’t bat an eyelid. He pressed his hand, fingers placed carefully, to the Romulan’s head, and began whispering some rhythmic chant. Picard was more than a little appalled.

“Captain Refelian, a word?”

The other looked at him, “Later,” he said. The Vulcan seemed to be having some success, his eyes shut.

“One eight nine two three seven seven five,” he said, after a few moments.

Picard fumed inwardly, and stormed into the forward compartment.

════

Annika sighed as she pushed the diminutive ship into its faster than light drive. Sometimes it was frustrating when one’s inquiries were too successful. The chase lacked thrill…

════

Dderas Station was a large structure, the same green as most Romulan vessels, maybe a little more vibrant looking. It was large, at least the size of a Cardassian Nor class, and more heavily built. The scout ship was miniscule next to it, and this only increased Captain Picard’s unease. This could go disastrously wrong, he decided.

As the scout ship nudged against the docking port on the side of the station, Picard took a glance outside, a little uneasy. There was nothing of any real interest, but he felt uneasy, as if he had glimpsed something with the corner of the eye, but could not longer see it. He felt the heavy hand of Commander Data on his shoulder, and he turned.

“Yes Data?”

“It is time to board the station Captain,” he said. Picard walked off with the android, and through into the airlock. Refelian’s crew were moving with expert precision. They managed to look casual, but one could see that as they took up positions near the hatch, they were careful to keep as much of themselves as possible out of the field of fire through the hatch, holding their hands carefully in pockets or belts near their pilfered Romulan disruptors, they all also sported the telltale bulge of type one phasers under those belts, and looked pensive as two romulans came aboard to check the ship.

Several hours later, Picard was sitting in a bar in the civilian quarter of the station nursing his third glass of the drink called Kali-fal, a weaker cousin of the famed Romulan Ale. He looked up to see a woman walking past the bar in the corridor beyond, framed by a statue of the Romulan Seal, a great bird holding two planets in its talons.

He knew her, he’d seen her before. Then it hit his inebriated mind, it was Tasha! Or, more accurately, Admiral Sela, the resemblance was, as always, uncanny. He was torn between the desire to follow her and her reunite, alone, and the desire to keep his head down.

But she had to know what was going on here, the captain thought, and stood, a little unsteadily, thinking to himself ‘damn these Romulans. Why haven’t they invented Synthahol?’
He was getting a very strange look from a waitress nearby, a pretty young woman with long hair tied back to show off her pointy ears and a sparkling pair of earrings, in a black dress. “Are you going to take your drink with you?” she asked.

Picard shook his head briefly, and started off after Sela. The waitress gave him a puzzled look and picked up the glass. ‘Expensive Kali-fal from Remus itself. What a waste,’ she thought, raising a cloth to wipe the edge of the glass before drinking it herself. She stopped just before doing so and frowned deeply. The waitress glanced at Picard’s back, and then walked over to the counter.

Picard crept slowly down the corridor, trying his drunken best to stay quiet as he followed Sela and her guards. He could hear them talking, the Universal Translator working effortlessly to make them seem to speak his tongue. “Good, this is the place,” they said, and one of the guards Turned, just after Picard managed to get out of the way.

Picard’s mind was racing, despite the amount of Kali-fal he had imbibed. They were going into an airlock. Why? Suddenly it hit him. The part of the station where the research was underway was cloaked.

════

Two of Refelian’s men occupied the end of the short docking corridor, hands on disruptors, having carefully positioned themselves behind vertical supports. They waited in case someone were to detect the team working on the hatch. Picard had led them to it, and Refelian was actually pleased to have the man, he would never have found this without Picard’s sheer… luck.

But Picard and Data seemed to be having little luck finding an entry to the airlock. It was buttoned up tight, and no matter what one tried, it simply came up with an alert that warned the operators that the airlock was not useable. It was getting ridiculous. Finally, he settled on pilfering a large object, a squat remote mine, from the bag one of his security officers was carrying, thankful that the Romulans had been lax enough to allow them to sneak such explosives aboard.

He pressed to the door, and flicked a button on its face, “Right. Everyone back away from the door,” he said, “and take cover.”

Crouching just inside a neighbouring airlock, which had been kind enough to open, Refelian nodded at the security officer, known as Vin, and with the dull thud of an unstable Krieger pulse, the door was blown apart. The firefight for the control room beyond was brief but fierce. Refalien’s men suffering minimal casualties, a mere two injured crewmen, for four guards and three scientists.

He was in his element now, and the sound of Romulan alarms only served to remind him of the time pressure. “Data, Verov, get downloading,” he said, pointing to a large terminal in the centre of the room, “everyone else cover an entrance.”

It wasn’t long though, before the first security from the station began to attack their rear-guard, and the blue beams of romulan weapons could be seen through the airlock. An ominous pounding started on the doors, and Refelian was more than aware that they were going to have to fight their way out of this. Shields on the station had almost certainly just gone up.

════

Data worked like a dervish on the computer’s glowing keys, working his way around dozens of ciphers, “I think I have something Captain,” he said, and then seemed actually annoyed when the lead failed to materialise. Picard looked anxiously at the door. The frequency of the blasts was increasing.

“Quickly Mister Data,” he said, urging the android on.

“I have it Captain, downloading into the squirt module.”

It was hoped that the small device could be used to transmit the data as they downloaded it, meaning that the – alarmingly high - risk of death would not change the success of the mission. “Captain,” he said, “there is much data here. It appears this is not one Romulan Project but many…”

As he listened, Picard felt the distinctive tingling of a transporter seizing him. ‘Merde!’ he thought…

════

The ‘Waitress’ smiled as the transporter operator reported that the targets were successfully imprisoned within the system’s buffers. She thought she’d known the face, and the reaction to the drink was distinctly non-romulan. Even the mannerisms, taught to her in her training as a Tal’Shiar operative, had been familiar as human. There had been an effort at masking the species identity of the human, but the junk DNA of the samples reconstructed from the glass had been conclusive.

She’d brought in the famed Captain Picard.

She was sure she could actually feel the impending promotion.


I deny the existance of Nemesis's Remans. Remus is a verdant and productive world, and not at all like the thing in Nemesis. *Hides behind WoI.*

[NecronLord]

Oh, I'm sure you have many wonderful and terrible surprises for us. But reversing the name is a rather old trick.

Of course, the Dalek Emperor thinks that sorta thing is witty. It was after all, how the Daleks got their name.

[Crazedwraith]

Sweet. The Tal'Shiar's got Picard.

[NecronLord]

Sweet. The Tal'Shiar's got Picard.

To clarify, they have them all...

I have the image of a legion of pointy eared Soong Types...

[Kuja]

Nice spygame. I didn't see that coming.

[mr friendly guy]

So when do the Daleks start curbstomping more trek powers? And I want to read about the Romulans looks when the Daleks reveal that they knew what the Rommies were doing all along.

[NecronLord]

Chapter 4

Jean Luc struggled slightly as two burly Romulan Guards slammed him into the chair, buckling tight straps across his chest and shoulders, then around each limb. He bit back the urge to protest, bitter experience had taught him that such things never did any good. One of them gave him a curt smack to the side of the head, just for a little extra brutality, as they left.

The cell was bare, featureless metal walls blending into an equally featureless floor, and arching up, with a few support struts, to a solitary spotlight which cast a circle of illumination down onto Picard’s bulky interrogation chair. After a few minutes, another figure entered. He could tell from her outfit as well as the way she moved that she was a female, not Sela though.

“Ah,” a cold voice said, “the famous Captain Picard, hero of the Federation. I shan’t bother to make you tell me why you’re here, that was rather obvious. I would rather ask you,” she said, “how you learnt what we have been doing here.”

She stepped into the light, and Picard stared up in surprise and shock at the waitress, recognition filling his eyes. “Ah,” she said, “This should teach you not to make a show of yourself on undercover missions. Now, would you care to answer me?” she asked, looking at a nearby table. His gaze followed hers, to a veritable forest of what looked like a mix between beeping, flashing things and crude surgical tools.

“Or will I be forced to be unpleasant?”

════

Captain Catherine Janeway, of the late Starship Voyager, slumped down onto the dirt encrusted mat which passed as her bed and looked through the dry wooden slats of the ‘window’ in the low hut. She could see Terakis’ sun marching down the sky behind the massive white walls of the dalek fortress to the east of the slave-worker’s village. Flights of daleks on transsolar disks patrolled the skys above and around where the fortress’ shield caused the sun’s golden and red rays to shift into a rainbow of other colours. A squat shuttle was lifting off, and the eerily beautiful scene belied the fact that this place was the nerve centre of dalek operations in the galaxy. Its wide white walls, stone over an iron core, faced with dalekenium and bonded polycarbides to resist the chain reaction effects of phasers and disruptors.

The shield blinked off, and Janeway was dazzled for a moment as her eyes realised they were now looking directly into the sun. She screwed her eyes tightly shut, and turned her head to the side, raising a hand to protect her face instinctively. A few moments later, the shield winked on once more, and she looked back at the sunset. Suddenly, it dawned on her.

She’d been searching, with several other Starfleet officers, for a way off this rock since day one. And she’d found it at last. If they could just work their way into the dalek compound when the shield was down, they could capture a shuttle and smuggle themselves off. Of course, this wasn’t the only way out of the slave mines of Terakis. One could try simple running away, but they always found the runners, and hunted them down with transsolar disks.

It was really quite horrific; she’d seen how the daleks treated those poor souls, as an example to the rest. They hit them with paralysis beams, and then tied them to the lifeless local tree, known to the slaves as the Tree of Woe. They kept the escapees paralysed, and let the local carrion feeders have their fill. Needless to say, few but foolhardy new arrivals tried to escape to somewhere else on Terakis these days.

A rumbling blast shook the ground, and the hut rattled as the earth trembled from the explosives being used in the mining operations on the west side of the valley.

There were other ways off Terakis, usually they involved dealing with some particularly unscrupulous ferengi whom the Daleks mostly ignored – it suited the daleks to let the prisoners attempt to buy in food, after all – but Catherine didn’t have the resources to buy her way off the planet.

She decided that this plan might actually work…

════

“We are dead.”

“We go into battle.”

“To reclaim our lives.”

“We do this gladly.”

“For we are Jem’Hadar.”

“Remember.”

“Victory is life!”

The Jem’Hadar crouched behind their barricades, plasma rifles at the ready, looking at the airlock door. As the enemy had first docked, they had rushed to the airlock, some of them barely equipped, in order to repel the borders. First Iurlak’Kar was pleased to hear the chorus of affirmation, Victory is Life, the motto of the Jem’Hadar.

And very soon, given the red glow of that door, to live, they would indeed need victory.

════

The air was filled with blue pulses. Compact blue bolts of plasma rifles traded fire with the diffuse blasts from Dalek guns. The Jem’Hadar had stymied the initial dalek probing assault with a concerted defence, but the Daleks had seemed to have planed for that. Their first wave had consisted of only low ranking footsoldiers, with no fire support. The second wave that hit them now was different. The forward Jem’Hadar defence had been torn apart by the heavy firepower of three Special Weapons daleks, which seemed to have no regard whatsoever for their own safety, firing with wild abandon.

They had managed to take two of the blasted things out, but the light infantry following through had the Jem’Hadar in full retreat, firing on the invaders as they withdrew down the corridor. The First took aim and fired at the head of one of the Daleks, and was rewarded with a small explosion as its eyepiece shattered. The dalek carrened about slightly, and was shoved aside by one of the others, which pressed it against the wall.

A bolt from the Dalek weaponry caught he Jem’Hadar leader, and picked him up off the floor. Another bolt hit his chest, and the combined energies at work on his low density flesh caused an explosion of the liquefied paste that was his scrambled flesh, leaving the skeleton to shatter across the floor meat, skin and cartilage reduced to a disgusting fluid of uniform consistency.

The lead dalek, red and silver, sporting a nasty looking claw attachment let out a screeching call to advance.

════

Captain Picard sagged back into his chair, and the Romulan woman seemed satisfied by the last set of ranting, tormented screams, ripped from his throat. Suddenly, she snapped up straight, and slumped back to the floor with a sound that made him wince.

Standing in the doorway was Refelian, grinning like a madman in the flickering light of the detention wing. “Apparently the idea of a Starfleet officer carrying backup weapons is unknown,” he said with a laugh. He ducked inside the small room and began to remove Picard’s bonds. “Mister Data!” he snapped, “Carry this man.”

There was a consolidated breakout underway, and more phaser blasts could be heard from the corridors around, and it wasn’t just Refelian’s crew, he seemed to have been keen to turn out anyone imprisoned in the veritable warren the Tal’Shiar had constructed on the starbase.

“Captain,” Data said to Refelian, lifting the other captain from the chair and supporting him on his feet, “I am now modulating my positronic signature as you suggested. The Incursion should be on its way.”

Suddenly, they were thrown aside by a juddering thump, some of the escapees lost their footing momentarily. “What the hell was that?” demanded Refelian. He was soon answered as a transmission came on across the station’s internal communications system.

════

“This is attack squadron Dalazar,” the grating tones announced that they were the elite unit of Dalek ships, favourites of the Dalek supreme, named for the continent on the original Skaro that had supported the Dalek capital, “you are to surrender all research data to us immediately,” it continues, “failure to comply will result in the total extermination off Romulus, Remus and Romii.”

The weapons of half a dozen Dalek cruisers and destroyers opened up once more, but this time, their weapons were not as powerful as they had seemed to be in pervious engagements.

Instead, they swept the maser weapons across the starbase’s surface, picking off disruptors with contemptuous ease. There were ships of course, but they had all heard the transmission as well.

The lead dalek ship sent again. It sent four simple words, “Prepare to be boarded.”

[Crazedwraith]

Very nice. Very very nice.

On a barely relevant personal note: I manged to get my copy of STAT working (It turns out all I needed was to download some sound card drive) So now i get some nice tie in with the game from Chapter 3. (impersonating romulans and itching tunic comments from Verov.)

Also I don't seem to recall Refellian having any backup weapons when he gets captured in the game. When you pull him out of the holodeck on the Warden Spacestation eh and the other guy with him have zilch with them.

[NecronLord]

Also I don't seem to recall Refellian having any backup weapons when he gets captured in the game. When you pull him out of the holodeck on the Warden Spacestation eh and the other guy with him have zilch with them.

He's learnt his lesson since then.

Besides, it's a plot point damnit. The Tal'Shiar missed searching him, as they're used to Federation spies being completely inept, as opposed to half competant. They get fucked over so badly so many times in this story, every now and then, they get lucky breaks. It prolongs their suffering.