Predators Part 9

Posted on Tue Jan 21st, 2025 @ 1:09am by Captain Malcom Llwyedd & Lieutenant Commander Jörgen Leed & Lieutenant Harren Kalur

2,383 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Mission 1: A Long Hard Road Ahead
Location: DS18, Deck 22, Diplomatic Quarters
Timeline: 07 October, 2396- 0900 Hours

[ON]

Harren waited at the bank of turbolifts that opened onto the main plaza of the diplomatic section for DS18. A massive desk area squatted in the middle of the two-story hall, obviously designed to instill awe in the incoming diplomats from far-flung places. The surfaces were all stone and metal, gleaming in their own style. He could imagine what it would be like if it were fully staffed with diplomats serving the Gamma Quadrant, perhaps Harren among their number.

But for now, it was mostly empty. There was a group of engineers working on the power systems and a damage control party that was replacing a corridor wall panel that had been damaged in the Coalition attack. The diplomatic aid sighed, shifted from foot to foot, and continued to wait for his superior to arrive. They were supposed to meet to discuss Commander Leed's strategy for an upcoming video conference with the Coalition leader.

The gentle hum of the turbolift grew louder, signaling its arrival. Jörgen Leed stepped out, his uniform immaculate but his slightly tousled hair and the faint shadow under his eyes betrayed the long hours he’d been working. In his hand, he carried a PADD, and the faint scent of coffee clung to him like a badge of perseverance.

He paused to glance around the nearly vacant diplomatic section. He nodded approvingly at the engineers and damage control party before turning his full attention to his aide.

“Quite the sight, isn’t it?” he said, gesturing toward the vast hall with a faint, wistful smile. His voice carried the faint Danish lilt that made even mundane statements sound deliberate. “A space meant for dialogue and diplomacy, standing empty. Not the most inspiring scene for a truce, is it?”

Harren pursed his lips and paused a moment before replying. "No, sir. It isn't inspiring. But it could be one day if you are successful," he said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He too was tired from long hours. He might be a career climber but he also prided himself on being a professional. "I've compiled the report on the Jwala as you requested. I consulted with medical about their age regression attack on Chief Harlan and what that tells us about them. I also spoke with Counselor Carew to see what she thought of their psychology. It was nice to talk with another Trill, even if they are not joined. I have your offices prepared. Shall we go?"

"We should. The Coalition will expect us soon," said Jörgen, his hand brushing across his chin as he considered his next words. "We should not approach the Jwala as solely enemies, regardless of what happened to Chief Harlan. A weapon that transforms one's experience and wisdom into the vulnerability of youth. They claim it was for his benefit but there's a certain cruelty in it. There's insight into the Jwala to be gained from it."

He tilted his head slightly, glancing at Harren with renewed interest. "What did Counselor Carew have to say about the matter? Her thoughts could be key to finding common ground, or avoiding another confrontation." A faint, approving smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You've been thorough, as usual."

The door behind them opened up, exposing the corridor where faint signs of life in the form of engineers and crew flickered in and out of sight. Jörgen turned to see who was at the door.

"Sorry, sir," a burly-looking engineer in smudged clothing said. Behind him were three more carbon copies, all carrying tools. "We've been assigned to this section. There's some kind of problem with the proximity alert beacons. They've been going on and off for a while and nobody can figure out why. Is it ok if we look at them now?"

Harren sighed. The eternal banging, drilling, welding, and the prophets knew what else was driving him slowly insane. He smiled tightly and waited for the Commander to reply.


Jörgen turned fully towards the door. Each engineer carried an array of tools, scrapes, and veneer of composure that probably derived from caffeine and sheer determination. "Please, carry on with whatever you need to do," Jörgen said with an even smile, gesturing to the quiet, expansive room. He tried to add a touch of warmth to soften what might come across as a curt directive. "This station is not exactly forgiving but we greatly appreciate anything you can do to minimize the noise and power cycles in this area. my aide and I are preparing for a serious diplomatic engagement. Good luck."

Jörgen considered how much the construction, setbacks, and problem-solving going into the space station mirrored their own work on peace accords with the Coalition. The irony of hoping for a peaceful corner in a place constantly under construction was not lost to him. After a nod to the engineers, Jörgen turned back to Harren. "We may have some background noise to accompany our review. You were about to fill me in on Counselor Carew's notes on the Jwala."

The engineers set out tools and began removing panels that would help them isolate the problem with the proximity alert beacons. The Andorian, Ensenar, crouched by the exposed conduits, his antennae twitching grabbed a micro-spanner to reroute the frayed circuits. He grumbled something under his breath that Kiarra, a young Bajoran woman, returned with a smirk.

"I think a phaser blast might alert that diplomat," she said. Kiarra felt dozens of light pinpricks on the back of her neck. Her eyes flicked across the corridor as she handed tools to the team. Kiarra nodded to Aiden, the last member of the team, who had stopped to stretch his back and complain about a loose relay he had been trying to fix for what felt like hours. The corridor remained empty. Kiarra grunted and walked to a console.

"Get up here, Aiden. We're tired of hearing about the relay," said Ensenar, humor in his voice. Seconds later the console nearest the diplomats emitted a series of pops and the door slammed shut behind them with a sudden, loud bang. It was followed by a sizzling bolt of energy that blasted the door. A figure with reptilian skin flared nostrils, and a fan of spikes framing the face from ear to ear was reflected by the console where Kiarra stood.

"Kheet’agh! We’ve got company!" she shouted, her voice sharp and urgent. Aiden barely had time to look around before the butt of a Jem'Hadar rifle collided with his temple, sending him sprawling to the floor. The attack was swift, brutal, and precise. The remaining engineers scrambled for any weapon to defend themselves. Behind the door, Jörgen could just hear Kiarra's warning. Kheet’agh didn't have a good translation but he had learned it didn't need one. A harsh insult in any language would suffice. Bajorans only used it with a good reason, and the diplomat trusted them in such cases. He popped off the console to access the emergency door release.

"Find any weapons you can," he said to Harren.

Harren's mind was at once jumbled and calm as if it were split, which it was. The Kalur symbiote had lived six lives before this one and had faced battles before. Harren, however, had not. He was from a long line of administrators and diplomats and had lived a life of relative leisure. His first instinct was to freeze in place. But the Kalur symbiote had expertise in two martial arts and was a grand master in one. Harren found himself moving toward the enemy. He felt terrified and exhilarated. His first attack was a knife blade strike to a nerve nexus on the enemy's neck. It landed and the weapon, a brutal plasma rifle, clattered to the ground.

"Sir! You should retreat!" Harren yelled as he ducked a punch. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the two remaining engineers fighting for their lives.

While his aide moved with deadly grace Jörgen had not known he possessed, the engineers fought with tools woefully inadequate. If they did not hold then Harren's flank would be exposed. Diplomacy is useless to the dead, Jörgen thought. A sturdy length of conduit lay nearby on the floor. A theoretical weapon but he was more of a theoretical soldier. Fit, trained, and out of deadly combat for some years.

Racing forward, Jörgen swung the conduit with both hands, catching his enemy across the ribs. The impact reverberated up his arms, but the strike threw the Jem’Hadar off balance, giving an engineer a chance to smash a heavy wrench into the enemy’s faceplate.

“Fall back to cover if you can!” Jörgen shouted to the engineers, stepping back to position himself closer to Harren. He wasn’t sure how long they could hold their ground.

"Idiot," Harren muttered as he sidestepped another punch, pivoting and moving until he was behind the Jem'Hadar. He unleashed a flurry of blows. They were open-handed strikes in the Mak'ta form, made to transfer energy through armor. The Jem'Hadar stumbled and went to one knee.

The other Jem'Hadar staggered back, his face plate shattered and let out a scream. His weapon came up and unleashed a fan of plasma that caught both of the remaining engineers squarely in the chest. Harren thought it also hit Commander Leed but he didn't have time to check because his opponent suddenly lashed out with a spinning kick and he had to somersault backward.

The plasma bolt seared across Jörgen's ribs and slapped him to the floor. The conduit clattered away, spinning uselessly out of reach. He crawled to the nearest engineer. She was breathing. Jörgen pried the wrench from her fingers and threw it at the closest enemy to try buying a couple of seconds for Harren. His side screamed as he pulled the Bajoran woman onto his shoulder and dragged her away. Finally, Jörgen whispered a prayer of The Prophets to Harren as he gave the emergency release a third pull and slammed the door shut between them. There has to be a phaser back here, somewhere.

Harren saw Commander Leed disappear behind a door and turned his attention back to the task at hand. The kneeling Jem'Hadar continued his spin, uncoiling like a spring and launching himself and Harren. There was little that the Diplomatic aid could do to avoid the collision. The force of the contact threw him against the wall, knocking the breath from his body. He had little time to recover. The Jem'Hadar closed rapidly, catching him with a right cross that loosened some of his teeth. But he forced himself to focus and slipped away from the second punch in the combo. A wrench clattered to the ground near him and without wondering where it came from, he scooped it up and jabbed it into the Jem'Hadar's eye. The scream that burst from its mouth deafened him.

He turned to see what was happening with the other combatant just in time to see the plasma weapon fire at him and then everything went black.

Jörgen's gaze darted around the cramped utility room searching for any kind of weapon. The space was stuffed with an assortment of gear: isolinear chips, glass rods, power conduits, as well as scanners and cables. He heard something heavy make repeated impacts on the sealed door. Soon the door gave a brief squeal. In a dusty corner, he uncovered a small box labeled "Emergency Supplies." Jörgen wrenched the lid off the box and turned it over. In the pile, he saw the familiar shape of a Type-I phaser. A quarter full.

The door squealed again. Louder. Jörgen peeked around the corner. A Jem'Hadar soldier stood in the doorway, squeezing through. The diplomat fired a shot into the warrior's shoulder. The Jem'Hadar roared in pain but raised a weapon to fire back. Jörgen dove forward as the arm raised, tumbling into a conference room. This must have been the one Harren set up for the call. Flowers, portraits, candles, and heavy vases of clay and glass adorned the room, lending it serene warmth. From the hall came sounds of a brief struggle, a wet crunch of bone, and then a soul-piercing scream.

The Jem'Hadar dove into the room, rolling into a crouch behind a heavy marble pillar. He was so quick the diplomat's shot was wide and Jörgen barely dodged the return fire. He glanced at the phaser; nearly depleted. He had to risk getting closer. Another blast slammed into the table he crouched behind. Jörgen leaped out, wincing as his ribs burned, and fired. The orange beam struck a large Klingon vase, sending heavy ceramic shards into the Jem’Hadar’s face and neck. As the warrior jerked back from the shards, Jörgen charged forward, slammed the phaser into his chest, and pressed the trigger. The Jem’Hadar collapsed, twitching as the stun beam overloaded its nervous system. Jörgen fired one last beam and dropped the useless weapon.

Jörgen grabbed an old medkit from the pile he had made on the floor. The engineer's arm bent at a bad angle and she looked in shock. He placed the hypospray against her arm and hoped the treatment was newer than the phaser. Not sparing any more time Jörgen forced himself sideways through the open door. Harren was crumpled against the far wall, blood streaking his face, his chest rising and falling faintly. Nearby lay a Jem’Hadar with a wrench embedded in its eye socket. Jörgen turned toward Harren, stumbling as the adrenaline began to wear off. Dropping to his knees beside the Trill, he shook him gently. "Harren, stay with me," he said, his voice hoarse. "The battle is over."

He hoped it was true.

[OFF]

Lieutenant Commander Jorgen Leed
Chief Diplomatic Officer
USS Firebird NCC-88298

Lieutenant Harren Kalur (NPC by Llwyedd)
Diplomat's Aide
USS Firebird NCC-88298

 

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