Star Trek: Eleventh Fleet

Chapter 5: Procedures

 The battered and smoking hull of a civilian Escort Class Defense Transport appeared. Someone had scrawled the markings of the Maquis along the side.

"Bloody hell, what is that?" Ben was the first to speak. "Why does a federation civilian transport have a cloaking device?"

"I don't know," Kal said.

"Sir, they're hailing us."

Kal shook off his shock. "On screen."

What came next gave his rattled mind even more reason to stumble. A bruised, disheveled Cardassian woman stood there, smiling at him. By the flicker of light against her, he could tell that fires were burning on her ship.

"Hello. Captain. I am Makbar of the Maquis. Please, we require assistance."

"Makbar...as in the infamous Cardassian judge?" Kal said.

"Infamous maybe, but right now, we need help."

The man at tactical piped in, "Sir, they keep locking weapons on us and our ships, and their disruptors are fully charged."

Makbar spoke before Kal could answer that. "Our systems are badly damaged. We cannot control them entirely. Rest assured, we will not attack you, but we have injured."

Ben whispered to Kal, "We need to be cautious. I can..." Kal held out a hand to silence him.

"Makbar, I'm afraid I have limited trust in Cardassians. With the current diplomatic issues between our peoples, I cannot drop this station's shields to help you while you have weapons locked on us. I will have to discuss the situation with Starfleet first. We can..." Goosebumps flooded his body as a hairy hand reached over and took Makbar by the shoulder and slowly moved her out of the way.

"Sir, what is wrong?" Ben asked.

Kal's heart filled his throat as a strange-looking, furry alien joined Makbar. The brindle colored feline man gave Kal a serious glare and said, "We need help. We do not have time."

There was a long enough silence from Kal that Ben went into action. "Captain, we need to follow proper channels. I will contact admiral..."

"Drop shields. Transport their injured to sickbay. Send the rest to the command level transporter pad. Dispatch the runabout to tractor that ship into the repair dock on level five." Kal gave out his orders.

Ben protested, "Sir, this is not procedure. This situation requires..."

Kal turned on him and angrily said, "You will do as I say now!"

Ben backed up. "Uh, yes, sir. You heard him, get to it."

Makbar said, "Thank you, Captain. We stand ready." The channel cut off.

Kal took Ben by the shoulder and softly said, "I'm sorry for yelling. You're right, but sometimes circumstances change procedure. I'll be in the command transporter room to greet our guests, make sure that security is at full strength and tell our three ships to remain out there until further notice, but to stand down from red alert status."

"Perhaps we should keep our red alert, sir," Ben suggested. "Cardassians are deceptive and.."

"No. I don't have time to explain, but at this moment, I trust these people with everything that is in me." Kal left him with that and walked toward the transporter room just beyond the conference rooms.

***

Kal stood by the transporter controls and waited patiently. Two security officers came into the room and drew their weapons.

"No, put those away," Kal commanded them. They reluctantly obliged. Kal turned to the woman at the control station. "What is the delay?"

"Our transporter locks are struggling. There's a lot of interference from radiation leaks on their ship. Wait, okay, I'm getting a signal now. Transporting." The young woman at the controls activated the transporter pad.

Kal stood ready to receive his guests, his heart pounding harder now than when he thought the Borg would obliterate the station.

Four people materialized on the transporter pad. Makbar stood next to a human man in ragged clothing. A tall Vulcan stood next to the human. He bore a sash not unlike a Klingon, but it had various tools strapped to it. And behind them stood the feline man who spoke to Kal.

"Oh, no." The transporter chief worked her controls furiously. "I don't know how that happened. I will find them, I promise."

Their guests were all frowning while Kal turned to her and whispered, "What is the matter, chief?"

Her cheeks flushed red as she responded in a tiny voice, "That man, in the back, he has no clothing."

Kal answered, "He doesn't wear clothes."

"What?" She looked up in shock.

Kal returned to their guests. "Hello, I'm Captain Kal Henderson."

Makbar stepped forward, her face marred by a recent injury. "Greetings, I'm Makbar, current co-leader of the Maquis. We are grateful for your assistance. This is my fellow co-leader, Peter Williams."

Peter stepped up with an outstretched hand and yet narrowed eyes, "Hello, captain." He nearly spit out the words.

Kal shook his hand. "Peter Williams, I know an admiral who would have loved to be in my place right now. He wants your head on his desk."

Peter held Kal's hand firmly, almost hurting him. "While we are here, Captain, the last vestiges of the Maquis will remain under my protection and I will still fight whoever tries to hurt us."

"Peter!" Makbar scolded him.

Kal forced his hand out of Peters. "I am no threat to you here. I want answers, not arrests." He decided it was not wise to tell this man that the same admiral would love to have his head on his desk as well.

Makbar gave off her famous diplomatic smile. "I apologize captain, my Maquis friends are protective of their freedom. I hope you trust that none of us are here to cause any trouble."

"All I want are answers."

She continued, "This is Tojann. He is our chief engineer."

The Vulcan stepped up and gave Kal a head nod. "Greetings, Captain."

Kal returned the traditional Vulcan nod. "Greetings."

Makbar then stepped aside and gestured to the feline man behind her, "And this is..."

"Midnight." Kal whispered.

"Midnight?" Makbar paused, not sure what that meant.

Ashi came forward. The look on his face made Peter appear friendly. He was a little shorter than Kal, had tall ears, a long tail, and claws on his hands. There wasn't a thread of clothing on him, but the shagginess of his fur covered him well enough. He practically snarled at Kal as he answered, "No one calls me that anymore, Kal."

"Kal?" He was just as stunned to hear this person use his given name. He came up to his old friend, open arms to receive him, "Midn... Ashi. It is so good to see you..." Ashi socked him right in the gut, causing him to lurch forward, and then, without missing a beat, Ashi punched him in the eye with enough force to send Kal over against the transporter control station.

"HEY!" The security guards had their weapons out and were coming to detain everyone. One had Ashi by the arm already.

"Wait!" Kal held up his hand as he stood up. "Stand down."

"Sir?"

Getting to his feet, Kal held his injured eye with one hand and looked at the seething cat in front of him with sorrow filling him. "I deserved that."

Makbar, stricken with worry now, said, "Are you okay? I'm sure that was uncalled for and we will deal with punishment..."

"We don't have time for punishments or diplomacy. We have bigger problems!" Ashi stated and then walked past Kal toward the door. Staggering for a moment, Ashi fell against a wall and held the frame of the door to keep from completely going down.

Kal ran over to help his friend, but Ashi shoved him away. Looking at the security guards, Kal ordered, "Escort our guests to the sickbay." He turned to Makbar and Peter. "We can discuss your situation there while the medical staff examines your injuries."

"Thank you, Captain," Makbar replied and then directed her people to follow, all of which showed signs of wounds.

Kal walked behind the group, needing a little medical attention himself now. However, the doctor would have nothing to mend the deepest wound in him.

***

The founder cooed over the victim he had laid on an assimilation table. She was a feline woman with shaggy fur in various shades of reds and browns. She wore no clothing and had a few sensors attached to her head to keep her sedated.

"My friend, we will give you the special privilege of being one of many soldiers in my own private army. I'm so glad to have you with me." His tone was strangely friendly, hinging on psychotic.

"Founder?" Kilana came in with her head bowed in honor of the god in her presence.

"Ah, my dear, what glorious specimens you brought us. Have they retrieved the others yet?"

She gulped and then answered, "The second ship evaded us and then used a cloaking device to elude our sensors long enough to escape the expanse. We do not know which direction they went. Do you want me to order the ship to find them?"

The Founder softly shook his head, not angry at this unfortunate report, "No. We don't have to worry about them yet."

Kilana looked at the woman on the table. "What is this creature? I have seen no person in this quadrant like this."

"I don't know, nor do I care. What she is to me is just another subject for my experiments."

Kilana ventured, "What ... are these experiments?"

"The beginning of a new era of the Dominion." He walked on.

She followed him to another room filled with people laying on the ground, unconscious. "What is this new era, if I may ask?"

"You may. I won't tell you everything, just that I plan on creating the most loyal army the Dominion has ever known."

"Are we, the Vorta and the Jem'Hadar, not loyal enough? We will die for the Founders, your will is our everything."

He answered, "What I mean to do is rid my soldiers of any vestige of free will. I will have order from chaos. I will have control."

Kilana relented