Star Trek DS9 – Battle For Terok Nor
‘Star Trek’ by Gene Roddenberry
“Battle For Terok Nor”
DISCLAIMER: Star Trek belongs to Paramount, as evidenced by the North Carolina roller coaster ‘Borg Assimilator’ and the like. This is fanfiction, written because I was unsatisfied with this particular part of the book. Enjoy!
Characters: Weyoun, Female Founder, Benjamin Sisko, Ezri Dax, Worf, Odo, Miles O’Brien, Kira Nerys, Nog, Martok, Admiral Ross, Julian Bashir, etc.
If you have seen this posted on fanfiction.net, it’s because I posted it there.
In the briefing room of Terok Nor, formerly Deep Space Nine, the Founder turned to her loyal underling, the Vorta Weyoun.
“Founder,” the Vorta began, “I have massed the Dominion fleet to engage the task force. It has all the requirements needed.” He handed her a data chip, which she inserted into the computer, which showed the fleet, or at least the specs of it. Looking it over, she found no flaw.
“Good,” she said in that soft tone of voice that was just as deadly. “It will do. Hold some of them out of sensor range, so the taskforce will not see it.” How wise the Founder was! Weyoun thought. How fluidly she conceived the future! Indeed, it must be pure chance that such an imperfect creature like him had become subordinate to only her, a god in his view!
“Thank you, Founder.”
“Now you may leave the room,” the Founder said with the air of being in authority. “The war begins at seven hundred hours, based on our findings.”
Soaring through the Bajoran wormhole, the Federation task force was made up of at least a thousand different ships. On board the Defiant, a small and seemingly insignificant starship, one of the most esteemed starship captains of the Federation, Benjamin Sisko, sat in command.
“Sir! We will be exiting the wormhole in approximately seventy-five seconds!” called the small Ferengi, Ensign Nog.
“Good, Ensign. Can we take them?” asked the captain, a bald black man of perhaps fifty.
“Yes, sir. Weapons are at full power, phaser banks fully charged, torpedoes at the ready,” said Commander Worf, the hardy Klingon.
“Sir, Admiral Ross is hailing us, as is General Martok,” said Lieutenant Ezri Dax, his Trill officer.
“Split-screen transmission, Dax. Hello, Admiral, General.” Admiral Ross appeared unsteady, but still ready to go. Martok looked like he was ready to go for it.
The tired-looking admiral spoke first. “Captain, ready?” Sisko chose to respond with a straight answer.
“As ready as possible. Is the task force?”
“Yes, the Romulans and the Klingons are in position. Best of luck, Ben.” Ross said, then added, “And to you, General.”
“Same to you, Admiral.” As the admiral winked off-screen, Sisko turned his attention to Martok, who grinned with his entire Klingon splendor and asked, “Is your admiral up to this? He seems the…soft type.”
Sisko, not offended at all due to numerous dealings with Klingons, replied, “Of course, General. I’ll see you on Deep Space Nine.”
With that, Martok offered a Klingon word, the word for ‘best of luck’. At least, that’s what it equated to. “Q’apla, Captain Sisko. General Martok out.” As the image faded from the viewscreen, Sisko turned his attention to the exit of the wormhole, drawing nearer and nearer, like a black hole.
“All right, people. You heard the orders. Move out!” Sisko called. Then, he motioned to Ezri, who tapped the internal communications system.
“General Quarters, Red Alert. All hands to battle stations. Prepare to engage the enemy.” Sisko could have called that thirty minutes ago, and the rush of adrenaline would have worn off by now. He needed that rush now, not thirty minutes ago. Then, they all waited for all the universe to tear itself apart around them, piece by piece as the fire of the skies opened into the heavens.
Floating somewhat peacefully outside the wormhole, the Cardassian space station Terok Nor, commanded by Gul Dukat, seemed to be bracing for an attack in ever so subtle ways. The lights, normally glowing to indicate a docking point, seemed to be an ominous reminder of the war now. The three pylons seemed to be folded inward even more so than before, as if to guard its heart at the habitat ring. The phaser banks seemed all too charged and ready, and the shield generators glowed in the now sinister light of this system’s sun. Several Breen, Cardassian, and Jem’Hadar light cruisers were docked, but a few were on active patrol. However, there were only about a hundred. Within two minutes were ships in excess of a thousand to meet the Federation. They poured through the wormhole, weapons already blazing in crimson and amber streams of light. One might even find them mesmerizing, if not for the war.
On the little ship Defiant, Lieutenant Ezri Dax responded to the blips and beeps from the consoles, working her panel like the expert she was. She had, after all, three lifetimes of experience. “Dominion fleet is in excess of one thousand.” The only sound, save for the computers, was a sharp intake of breath. They all knew how strong Dominion ships were, having been on their bad side much more than once. Having been bitten by the same teeth they were bending and now breaking.
“Ready phasers.” called Sisko.
“Yes, sir,” replied Worf from the weapons display.
“All right, Mr. Worf. Fire at will.” Sisko said.
They all felt the crackle of energy throughout the ship as the phasers fired. They all were wondering how their ship would hold up, even if it was tried and true from past encounters with hostile beings. Now, though, they knew time to worry was past, because now the battle had begun.
An hour later, the battle still raged in all its fury, a beast unleashed. The bridge smelled of burning plasma conduits and smoke. No time to track them down, not now. He tried the be Nog’s eyes, for their helmsman had to keep his eyes strictly to the computer to keep them alive. Never once did the captain doubt the ensign.
“Sir, Admiral Ross is hailing us,” called Ezri from tactical. Wait… tactical? Everyone was working more than one panel, he realized. He nodded to her.
“Ben, we have to retreat!” Ross said over the chaos that his bridge was. “The Romulans’ line is collapsing-“ His voice was cut off as an explosion threw the admiral out of his seat. As he staggered back into the viewscreen range, he continued, “We have to either win this battle and get destroyed, and I’m not going to get destroyed here. We need to fall back!”
“No, Admiral,” Sisko said quite evenly, as an explosion rocked his ship. “The line must be drawn somewhere, why not here? Why not indeed?”
“All right, Ben. We press on. But if we lose even one more ship…” The admiral turned white at the thought. Sisko understood quite well.
“I understand, admiral. Out.” Sisko responded, cutting off the transmission. Then the shapeshifter Odo called his attention.
“Sir, I believe you should see this…” Sisko picked his way from the command chair, stopping and groping wildly for support as the ship was hit in another blast. A panel exploded in a flash behind him, and someone fell back, but fortunately, they were unharmed. O’Brien, his engineer, worked his console, and a moment later, another technician burst through the turbolift. Finally, he was there.
“What is it, Odo?” he questioned his security officer’s abilities.
“All the Breen ships we have destroyed were hit in the emergency bay launch doors, sir.” Odo told him. Odo looked at Sisko, who looked at Worf, who was already looking at Ezri, who didn’t have a clue what this all meant.
“Dax! Hail the fleet! Let ‘em know what we found!” Now she got it. Sending the message on priority one, she sent it to the entire taskforce.
In the briefing room, which had once seemed the picture of tranquility during wartime, the Founder now turned to Weyoun.
“I need you over here now, Weyoun!” she called, her voiceoddly betraying emotions that a shapeshiftershouldn’t have had.
“Yes, Founder?” Weyoun asked pleasantly, his musical voice letting her know that he still thought her a god, which, in fact, they had made every soldier genetically-engineered by them believe.
“We will regroup on Cardassia Prime. I suggest that you begin evacuating the station, provided we can find flight plans.” Oh, so even the Founder had trouble…
“I will order a Jem’Hadar ship to come back.” Weyoun promised, and then left the room, leaving it empty. In just a moment, though, the commander of the Cardassian/Dominion troops walked in, Legate Broca.
“Founder!” he called her attention without reverence, obviously flustered. At least he stopped there, the Founder mused.
“Yes, Broca?” she asked, turning to him.
“The Federation taskforce has found the largestweakness in the Breen ships, sir. Suggest we retreat-” his voice was cut off then and there as she grabbed his neck, lifting him above the ground, effectively blocking off his airflow. With that maddeningly calm voice of hers, she told him,
“We must not retreat, nor will you order them to. How does that sound to you?” Only his lips moved as he mouthed out ‘no retreat….’ The Founder rudely dropped him, and the Cardassian simply lay there for a few minutes, just recovering, gasping for air. She moved off, not really caring. “Bring in the Cardassian reinforcements. We must win this battle. You may go, Broca.” she said-with an edge to her voice this time. Legate Broca was smart enough to move out the door this time, and, once again, they left her to her thoughts.
No side had a clear advantage yet. It was one and all the same, chaos. The bridge still smelled of burning plasma, but it was better than it had been earlier. Another control panel exploded as a Breen ship sunk its still-unbroken teeth into them. Shrapnel punctured Sisko’s arm, and he simply brushed it away, leaving a patch of blood and a torn uniform hole. The Defiant kept hammering away at her enemies, letting them rest only when they were proven to be dead in space. This time, they were after a Jem’Hadar battle cruiser. Next time, perhaps a Breen warship, and after that, who knew?
The heat was nearly unbearable in here. Twin beams shot out of the Jem’Hadar ship, and another panel – the engineering main panel – blew up in a light so bright it blinded everyone. He heard a loud cry and prayed that it was not from O’Brien, and as he turned, there was his nightmare incarnate. Without O’Brien, they couldn’t keep the Defiant running, at least not as effectively. He was reminded of something he had said before, earlier today… ‘Keep fighting, try not to die, but if we have to die, make it count.’ It looked that bad. Rushing to his friend to help him, the scene he saw was grisly and ghastly all in one. The chief engineer’s entire right arm was burned, how badly he couldn’t tell, his face was bloodied from flying shrapnel, and O’Brien’s shoulder…. With a grimace, the chief of operations tried to sit up to go back to work. His entire right shoulder was charred and bleeding badly-and the uniform had melted onto the shoulder- the sparks leaving it as perhaps an afterthought. It was so bad Sisko doubted that he would be conscious much longer. Stopping the chief halfway up, he said,
“Rest. I’ll call sickbay.” The minute Sisko took his hand off to tap his combadge, he sat up and tried to keep working on the power supplies to some burnt-out consoles. “Sisko to Bashir.” O’Brien stopped for just an instant and winced, a reminder of how excruciating the pain he was in was, then returned to the task, just like he normally would.
“Bashir here. What is it, Captain?” the young doctor’s irritation showed through, but just a little, to the young doctor’s credit.
“I need you up on the bridge now. O’Brien’s hurt.”
“On my way. Bashir Out.” Well, that was done. A moment later, He burst out of the turbolift, nearly fell over because of another attack by the same damned Jem’Hadar ship, and rushed over to his fallen comrade.
He stopped as the ship shook, as not to bump something or accidentally disrupt the scanner. Done scanning, Bashir guided his friend up on his feet, and called to the captain.
“I need him in sickbay, Captain. Come on, Miles.” He addressed his friend, the looked to Sisko for conformation. Sisko nodded, releasing him. He didn’t want to be pessimistic, however, the chances of O’Brien being capable after this looked slim, if he even lived.
Again, that was done. One problem down, only a million to go. The ship rocked from friendly fire. Well, it wasn’t perfect, was it? The deck lurched. More fire. Wonderful. Inwardly, he groaned. But then:
“Sir! The fleet is at a ratio of every one Dominion ship to every two taskforce ships!” The informant was the little Ferengi, Nog, of all people. A cheer went up around the ship’s bridge.
“All right, people. Now we have Terok Nor.” Compared to the ships, Terok Nor seemed easy.
“Sir! The fighters are leaving! We may not have to fight Terok Nor… sir, there are no Dominion troops inside!” called an overeager lieutenant.
“Well, then,” Sisko said, “We retake Deep Space Nine.”
A day later, they were all on the station, formerly Terok Nor, now, under Starfleet/Bajoran joint command, Deep Space Nine. He had already checked with everyone, helped them get unpacked, helped them to move in. The O’Briens would be here within a week, leaving the Starfleet engineer alone in his home, but not alone on the shift. Suddenly, from above, a familiar voice called, “Captain!” It was Kira Nerys, his Bajoran First Officer. She had stayed, because the Bajoran people had a treaty with the Dominion, and they would not be harmed. Not to mention the Bajorans needed a leader. But anyway, he smiled and told her,
“It’s nice to be back, Major. Did you see the battle?”
“No, but I did see a certain Vorta running…” Kira grinned wolfishly and Sisko bit back one. Then he walked over to the infirmary. There lay an unusually quiet O’Brien and Bashir was working on his shoulder. Ah, that wasn’t so good. Walking in, he waited for less than a minute before Bashir realized he was there.
“Oh. Hello, sir.” The doctor said, without looking up even once.
“Is there any chance of waking him up now, Doctor?” he knew O’Brien didn’t know that they were on DS9, he had been unconscious the entire time.
“Of course, sir. It’ll probably be better for him anyway.” Bashir gave O’Brien a two hyposprays, one for his shoulder, and one to awaken him, and then waited for a minute. O’Brien’s eyes fluttered open, slowly bringing him back to consciousness for the first time in two days.
“Deep Space Nine…?” he murmured, not quite sure what to believe. Then he began to get up… …and Bashir pushed him back down gently. The man looked towards his commander, who knew he had no jurisdiction over the doctor anyway.
“Chief, it will take a little explaining, but welcome home.” he said with a smile. They all felt like it, because, even if the war wasn’t over yet, with the station, it seemed a whole lot brighter, and that the war would be over sooner.