PART V

After security had taken his attacker away, Rojc briefly stopped off at his quarters to pick up the data he was apparently not meant to see. As expected, it gave him a system location. But now the search had become a race against time--for all he knew, the attacker had alerted the terrorists before striking. They could be evacuating at this very moment. And for the time being, he was stuck in sickbay at Kira's insistence.

Doctor Julian Bashir ran the tricorder scanner over Rojc's nose and arm wound. "Are you certain you're fine? You don't require a helper aid?"

"Yes, Doctor, I'm certain," Rojc uttered. The bleeding of the wounds had already ceased by the time station security had arrived on the scene. By the time he'd actually gotten to sickbay, his wounds were almost completely closed up. They would be tender for the next couple of days, but the healing factor afforded him by the biochemical alterations would take care of the damage without any external aid.

From behind them, Kira and Commander Tiris Jast, acting head of station security, entered the sickbay. "We did as you asked and checked up on Lieutenant Arona--she's fine."

Rojc turned his head to look at the two officers entering sickbay. "Thank you Colonel."

Bashir completed one final scan with the tricorder. "Astonishing, Commander. You appear to be almost completely healed."

Rojc nodded his head dismissively. "The Bajoran that attacked me--is he well enough for questioning?"

"Yes, but--"

Rojc put a hand up to interrupt Bashir. "Thank you Doctor." He turned around to fully face Kira and Jast. "Has he been transferred to a holding cell yet?"

"He has," Jast responded with a nod.

"Good. Let's go." Rojc strode out onto the Promenade towards the Security Office. Kira and Jast soon joined him.

"He was scanned thoroughly?" asked Rojc upon entering the Office.

"He was," Jast answered.

"Doctor Bashir found nothing anomalous," continued Kira, "He was unable to find anything which would allow the attacker's eyes to luminesce as you described."

Rojc stopped. "I know what I saw, Kira."

"I'm not implying otherwise, Rojc." Kira shook her head. The three officers walked back towards the Brig.

"Anyways," began Jast, "We've already completed our background check on your new 'friend'. It turned up nothing."

"Hmmph. I would've been surprised if it had," Rojc commented. He stopped outside the entrance to the Brig and abruptly turned around. "Chances are the terrorist cell has been alerted to our attempts to locate them. If we're going to catch them, we need to get a plan into action now."

"What did you have in mind?" inquired Kira.

"How long before the Defiant returns from convoy duty?"

Kira shook her head. "Fifteen hours."

Rojc frowned. "Guess I'll have to settle for a runabout, then. Can you have one prepped and ready to go inside the hour?"

"Yes," Kira began, "But you can't still be planning to take only Lieutenant Arona."

"This is a matter of station security," answered Rojc, "I'm not in command here. And I can't wait for station security teams to mobilize."

"I can have a full Starfleet emergency response team ready to go inside of five minutes," declared Jast, "And the bulk of our security officers ready to deploy by the time the Defiant returns."

Rojc blinked. His glance shifted from Jast to Kira. "You're the final authority here, Colonel."

"Like I'm going to tell you 'no'." Kira shot Rojc a dirty look. "Proceed."

"Thank you both, for your assistance," acknowledged Rojc.

Jast turned to Kira. "Then I shall let you and Commander Rojc handle the questioning. The team will be ready and standing by at Pad 4 when you're finished." She nodded tersely and headed back towards the Security Office.

Kira started towards the Brig entrance, but Rojc reached out and unexpectedly stopped her. "I'd like to handle this on my own, Kira."

"What?" Kira demanded curtly.

"I think if we're going to get anywhere with this individual, I've got to do this alone," answered Rojc in an uncharacteristically cordial tone. "I defeated him in hand-to-hand, that should put some fear into him. That element may be nonexistent if others are present."

Kira looked at Rojc with a fixed stare. "You know that's not procedure."

"Of course."

Kira frowned. "He gave the name 'Tamil Sengar'."

Rojc gruffly nodded his thanks and proceeded to enter the Brig. Without hesitating, he dismissed the on-duty security guards. After the last guard had left, Rojc turned to face the Bajoran in his cell.

He stared intently at his assailant, with a cold, detached interest. All the while, "Tamil Sengar" simply sneered at his captor. And with that, Rojc had completed his analysis of the man--skilled, but still young and inexperienced enough to retain his arrogance. Rojc, along with many of the Angosian soldiers he'd trained with had all went through the same phase--an unyielding belief in the infallibility of their skills.

Finally Tamil Sengar broke the silence. "What manner of demon are you?"

Rojc regarded the man for a moment longer. He noted the possible religious reference of the insult. "My name is Commander Dade Rojc, of the Starfleet Intelligence Corps. I come from the world Angosia III."

"Tell me--are all those of your world demons such as yourself?" the Bajoran hissed.

"I can assure you that I am no demon."

"Liar!" Tamil declared loudly. "No mortal being exists that can defeat me! My skills are beyond question."

"Your skills may take care of the occasional Cardassian or Bajoran soldier, but there's a whole galaxy out there," retorted Rojc.

"I surprised you, did I not?" asserted Tamil, "Where was your superior skill then?"

Rojc shrugged complacently. "It didn't do you a lot of good, apparently. Otherwise, you wouldn't be in that cell now, and I'd be dead. How is your jaw, by the way?"

The Bajoran's expression was sobered. He did not reply.

"Great. Now that we've established that, let us turn our attentions to another matter," declared Rojc. "We know that the source transmission originated in the Kaltado system, at the edge of the Badlands. In that system is the start of a series of relay buoys for ships in peril to enhance and broadcast any distress signals."

Rojc paused briefly, observing Tamil closely for any reaction. "I happen to know that these relays are all independent of each other. A transmission picked up by one relay goes directly to its intended destination. This narrows down the range of where the original transmission could have come from to an area of about ten light-years."

"That is...a lot of space," snickered Tamil.

"Indeed it is. That's why you're going to narrow my search parameters and tell me what system your terrorist cell is based in," responded Rojc authoritively.

The Bajoran raucously laughed at Rojc. "And why would I want to do that?"

"Because otherwise there'll be a berth awaiting you at the Klingon prison moon of Rura Penthe," Rojc answered flatly.

"The Klingons!? They have no jurisdiction in this matter!" Tamil uttered. "Your threat is baseless." Despite his defiance, his voice wavered.

"No jurisdiction, you say?" asked Rojc rhetorically. "It so happens I have arranged for your extradition to the Klingon Empire in connection for several terrorist incidents several months back. One of the terrorists matches your description, or should I say, will match your description."

"I know nothing of which you speak. I-- " he stopped abruptly at the realization. After a pause, he shook his head. "You lie. Surely you could not arrange this as you have said."

"The current Federation ambassador to Qo'nos owes me a favor," Rojc said matter-of-factly. "And as you may or may not know, that man happens to be a member of the house of the current Klingon Chancellor."

"A bluff, then," answered the Bajoran, still more uncertainty creeping into his voice, "Either way, the Pah-Wraiths will protect me."

"I don't know if you noticed yet, but your divine guidance needs to get a better intelligence network in place," Rojc affirmed. "After all, you would have expected a bunch of 'all-knowing, all-seeing, all-powerful, benevolent gods' to know of my biochemical enhancements. You'd expect that they'd warn you that you were way out of your league when you came after me."

"If I have failed, then it is only because the Pah-Wraiths meant for me to learn a lesson. In all things they shall still watch over their faithful servant," avowed Tamil. He could only barely manage to hold up his facade of bravado. "Make no mistake, we the chosen of the Pah-Wraiths will not be defeated by the likes of you! Where I have failed, others shall succeed."

"Let me impress upon you a very key tidbit of information, which if the Pah-Wraiths had given you a proper personnel profile, you'd be aware of--I don't bluff." Rojc stared grimly at Tamil. "Make no mistake, when you are sent to Rura Penthe, you will die. And it will be a very long, excruitiating death from any number of horrific and terrifying sources." He paused as he let the words sink in. "Are you prepared to die?"

Rojc could now clearly perceive the Bajoran's outward show was in shambles. The look of utter uncertainty on his face was enough to answer the question. Tamil remained silent.

"Do you want a way out? Would you like to live?" asked Rojc poignantly.

Tamil thought for a moment. "Of course. But that will not happen--either way I am condemned to die a horrible death."

"Sticking with the devil you know then, is it?" Rojc caught eye contact with the Bajoran. "Help me and I can assure you that you will be placed in protective custody. You will be transferred to a facility that can safely house you from any retaliation by your so-called 'gods'."

"How can you do these things of which you speak?" spat Tamil angrily. "You are a mere Commander. Insignificant."

"You'd be surprised what I can make happen," Rojc countered. "Or should I point out, again, that I surprised you?" Rojc paused. "Simply put, you've got two options here--keep your secrets and die slowly or help me out and live. Federation judicial procedure is very lenient these days--your sentence could be served in only a few years, after which you could be transferred to the witness protection program."

The Bajoran stared silently at the cell wall for a long moment. In his psyche raged the ongoing struggle between self-preservation and conviction to duty--conviction to practically everything thus far in life. Never before had he so questioned his faith in the Pah-Wraiths. And it felt like his world was crumbling down.

"The terms of our little 'arrangement' do expire, Tamil," pronounced Rojc, "I don't have time to waste, watching you stare absent-mindedly at the wall. The hostages could die at any time."

Tamil sighed in utter defeat. "They are still alive. But not for long."

Rojc felt the tinge of a smile pulling at his lips. He suppressed the urge. "Are you willing to cooperate?"

"They are located on a small planetoid in the Delta Bryce system, approximately five hours into the Badlands from the Kaltado system," admitted Tamil. "They may or may not be alerted to your knowledge of their base--but it will not matter, they are there to perform a sacred rite and will not leave until it is finished. It shall be time for the rite shortly--you have only barely enough time to arrive and..." He trailed off momentarily. "...And stop them with as much force as you can muster."

"What is the environment like? Internal sensors? Satellites?"

"There is an entry point to a large cavern structure on the southwest continent--unguarded," answered Tamil agitatedly. "Everything about the location is designed to appear natural, there are no electronic systems within most of the cavern structure. You will encounter anywhere from ten to sixteen guards, maybe more--heavily armed."

"What is this sacred rite?" demanded Rojc.

Tamil shook his head bitterly. "It is something our new emissary has overseen, I do not know the specifics. All I know is that the soldiers shall be sacrificed when the time comes."

The planet of Andor, eighth of nine worlds orbiting an orange dwarf star, was a scorching, arid world with little surface water. Deserts covered the vast majority of the surface, whipping sand and wind at incredible speeds. Steep mountain ranges crisscrossed the surface, often isolating desert from desert.

From these harsh conditions were forged a warrior people, whose savagery and fighting ability was nearly unequalled across the Quadrant. During their early years of space travel, the Andorians were known for their sometimes savage conquests of neighboring worlds. Although an admittedly warrior race in nature, there was another side to these proud peoples and their inhospitable world.

While more than capable, the Andorians rarely quarreled without reason. Typically quiet and reserved in their dealings with others, this invited more than one species to foolishly attack. Andorians also placed a high value upon family relationships and obligations, often placing them above all other concerns. An attack on a family member was practically equal to that of an attack on one's self. Though heavily patriarchal, outside matters of family, males and females were entirely equals.

The Andorian civilization built its splendor around the lakes and oasis's sparsely dotting the surface of the world. Magnificent cities stretched for kilometers, stretching as far as the vast underground reservoirs would allow. Distorted bubble-like structures dominated Andorian architecture, often stacked on top of each other, rising majestically into the sky. Building colors were dominated by mostly shades of blue--but a fair amount of grays and greens were also used. Cities were filled with as much vegetation as space would allow. One couldn't walk more than a few blocks without coming across some kind of small park. The denizens of the cities cherished above all else the billowing shrub-like plants, painted in various pastel colors, called leekara.

Captain Xanthus Knight stepped off his transport and headed directly for the arrivals terminal on the far side of the spaceport. Though the spaceport offered a great panoramic view of the surrounding city, the Andorian capital of El'kara, Xanthus did not stop to gawk. He'd been to Andor many times before; it'd since lost its novelty.

As Xanthus approached the arrivals terminal, two Andorian individuals searching the crowd caught sight of him and headed in his direction. He recognized one as a member of the Andorian elite forces, while the other appeared to be a civilian.

"Captain Knight?" the civilian inquired.

Knight came to a halt, leveling a fixed stare at the two Andorians.

"I am Juka Ok'vanar, from Sihidyo El'kood's organization."

"Is there something I can help you gentlemen with?" Knight asked warily. He wasn't expecting to hear anything from El'kood this soon--their meeting wasn't for another two days yet.

"This way please," boomed the soldier, pointing to a small surface transport approximately 100 meters away. His manner clearly indicated that it was more of an order than a request.

Knight scowled, but saw no reason to object. El'kood was the typical politician, Knight reasoned--he's got a busy schedule and needed to get this "chore" out of the way. El'kood held numerous interests throughout the Federation, and his attentions tended to drift...

As they approached the surface transport, a second soldier emerged from the enclosed control room and promptly opened the door to the passenger seating for them to enter the vehicle. Ok'vanar did so without acknowledgement for the soldier, followed by Knight. The first soldier did not join them in the passenger section.

In no time at all, the transport had breezed through customs and was headed towards El'kood's office. Headquarters was more like it--El'kood not only worked with many elements of Andorian government, but also fielded his own cadre of soldiers, in addition to supporting a rather large organization with varied interests--all of it based in this one building.

Knight scrutinized the young diplomat across from him. The Andorian said nothing, simply peering back at him in a similar manner.

"So what is this all about? My meeting with Trip--ahem--El'kood wasn't supposed to be for a two days yet." Knight frowned at his slip-up. Even though Andorians that spent a good deal of time off world often choose to be called by their given name, such a personal address was frowned upon in the Andorian culture en masse. It'd been awhile since Knight needed to exercise this particular skill.

Ok'vanar registered no noticeable reaction to the slip-up. "All your questions will be answered by the Sihidyo himself."

Knight huffed his dissatisfaction and became silent once more. Ok'vanar likely didn't know the answer to that question--he'd simply been given orders to escort Knight to the headquarters immediately. He was in all probability nothing more than a low-level functionary. All of which was not a particularly uplifting realization.

The rest of the trip continued in silence, both men simply sizing each other up. Ok'vanar was certainly bolder than the usual representative--regardless of how he was dressed, it was apparent he was the product of military training. El'kood had slowly been surrounding himself with such people over the years. Now these people were his power base. Their strength was his strength (or so went the saying on Andor, anyway).

The transport pulled up to the front entrance of El'kood's headquarters and Knight was quickly hurried inside. His escort eventually led him to a large blue-gray colored room and left him alone. The diplomat who'd brought Knight to the headquarters had disappeared, no doubt off to inform whoever would inform El'kood that he had a guest.

style='mso-tab-count:1' So he waited. And waited.

Finally after an hour, Ok'vanar returned. "Sihidyo El'kood will grant you an audience now."

Knight stood and followed Ok'vanar, still accompanied by the soldier. Ok'vanar led them through a series of corridors, before finally arriving at a large entrance, which too was guarded. He nodded to the guards and finally motioned Knight into the room.

Knight stepped through the doors, which promptly shut behind him. He surveyed the room and immediately recognized El'kood behind the large desk that dominated the room. To the right of El'kood stood another Andorian male, presumably his personal assistant. In front of the desk were seated four people--two more men and a women, none of which Knight recognized. Knight was more than a little surprised as he realized the last occupant of the room was none other than...Melina Iv'Oor?

The mood on the USS Rubicon during the flight from Deep Space Nine was understandably tense. Commander Jast had selected her finest people to accompany Rojc, but this was their first post-war action. Added to that fact, the information on the terrorist cell came from a dubious source, and their departure had been exceedingly rushed. Heading into this mission, Rojc would have felt a lot more confident with more officers and more resources, but there simply hadn't been time.

The emergency response team plus Arona now stood assembled in one of the runabout's auxiliary rooms awaiting the briefing for the mission they were about to undertake. Commander Rojc soon joined them.

Rojc forewent the pleasantries (introductions having already been made) and began his briefing. "What we have, ladies and gentlemen, is a hostage situation. According to our source we have approximately forty-seven minutes to locate the hostages and stop their sacrifice." Rojc paused for a moment to determine the reactions of the officers before him. "This isn't going to be an easy task--we've scanned the target cave structure and determined that natural gallicite deposits will make tricorders practically useless. But from those scans we've also managed to determine the two likely chambers that the terrorists could be using as base camp."

Lieutenant Patrick Reese stepped forward. Reese was an imposing figure, even standing next to Commander Rojc. A survivor of AR-558, his skill had been honed under the most brutal battle conditions. He'd been hesitant to remain on DS9, but Captain Sisko had convinced him.

"We'll split into two teams," continued Reese. "Team one will head directly to the deeper chamber; team two will take the near chamber, then if clear, rendezvous with team one. All the while we'll post sensor relays and use tricorders to emit a coherent tetyron trail to keep us on track with where we are in the cave structure. Neeley, Palmers, Tulane, you're with Commander Rojc on team one. Strek, Abdon, and Lieutenant Arona, you're with me." Reese turned to Rojc.

"There is an indeterminate number of heavily armed terrorists guarding the main chamber," added Rojc gravely. "We could encounter anywhere from ten to sixteen guards, in addition to other hostiles. Set for high stun, but due to the nature of the situation, you are authorized to use whatever force necessary to advance in the caverns. Do not get bogged down in a firefight with hostiles. Our primary objective to rescue the hostages takes all precedence. Any questions?"

The Deep Space Nine emergency response team was silent.

Rojc nodded his approval. "Gear up and prepare for transport. Dismissed."

As the security officers filed out of the room, Arona instead walked up to Rojc. He stopped and looked at her quietly. "Arona, I think you should stay up here, where it's safe."

Arona vehemently shook her head. "I'm not staying behind, Rojc, no matter what you say," she declared loudly.

"You're not a security officer--you don't have the training for this."

"I have training from my academy days. I'll say it again: you're not leaving me behind. Jaden means too much to me."

"Damn it, Arona, why are you so damn stubborn?" Rojc closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He re-opened his eyes, making eye contact with Arona. He summoned up every bit of compassion and good will he could, and slowly began to speak. "Look--I don't know what to expect down there after the incident on the station. And that uncertainty on my part is definitely not a good sign, if experience has taught me anything. I can't guarantee your safety."

"Risk is a part of the job, isn't it?" Arona asked earnestly.

It was so simple of a response, yet so effective; Rojc could have kicked himself. He was not used to expecting regular Starfleet officers to put their life on the line so easily. It gave him a renewed sense of hope.

"Exercise extreme caution down there, Arona," Rojc finally answered.

Arona nodded appreciatively. "I didn't know you cared so much," she added lightheartedly.

"I don't need the extra paperwork," he returned wryly.

It took every scrap of self-control Xanthus Knight could muster to not gape at Melina Iv'Oor in shock and surprise. He'd indeed known that Melina was on Andor, but never in his wildest imagination had he even considered the possibility that his business and Melina would cross. But he had to remain calm and collected; Tripsa would see anything else as weakness--something he could not afford.

"Captain Knight, welcome," greeted Ambassador Tripsa El'kood.

"Thank you, Ambassador." Knight nodded politely.

"I am sorry to have summoned you early--I hope you will not be inconvenienced by this slight change of schedule," Tripsa proclaimed diplomatically. "However your name seems to have come up in another matter of mine. Something I have great interest in resolving with all due haste."

Knight's eyes darted quickly to Melina, then back to Tripsa. "To what sir, would you be referring?" As if he didn't already know--the look from Melina told him.

Tripsa leaned slowly forward in his seat and regarded Knight musingly before answering his question. The Andorian broke his direct gaze at Knight and stood from his seat in a manner both suave and elegant. At his full height, Tripsa had a most commanding air about him. To most, Tripsa seemed to possess a natural charisma, but Knight knew better. Years of practice.

"Captain, I am very active in politics; both in the Federation and on my world. Particularly on my world."

Tripsa stopped and turned to face the large window behind him. "A man such as I has many responsibilities...many priorities...many interests. All the while I must keep my world in balance."

Knight remained contemplatively silent, not wishing to interrupt Tripsa. For all his years away from Federation politics, he was still very aware of the Andorian need for posturing.

"A strong leader has not emerged from my world for many years now. The great dynasties of Andor are in disorder! No man occupies the mantle of First Premier." Tripsa gestured emphatically, his voice emphasizing the conviction to that which he spoke. "The man who speaks for his world has much more facility to act than those who do not." He turned around dramatically. "Only through bargaining and alliance, can I hope to achieve my world's destiny."

Apparently finished, he returned to his seat behind the desk.

Tripsa's assistant cleared his throat. "We have come to understand that you and Melina, daughter of Taloor, dynasty of Iv have bonded."

Knight frowned and looked at Melina again. "This is correct."

The assistant's face darkened. "The dynasty of Iv carries much sway on our world. Sihidyo El'kood would be most pleased to receive the support of the Iv."

"I assume there is a connection?" Knight asked tersely.

"It is our custom that this agreement between two dynasties be sealed through the marriage of the eldest daughter to the head of the rival dynasty," explained the assistant curtly. "However, out of respect for Federation regulation, the arranged marriage cannot take place if the daughter declares she has entered into a relationship with an off-worlder. Her rights...and yours...preclude this alliance from taking place."

"And naturally--" Knight began, pausing to clear his throat. He forced the emotion--the resentment out of his tone. "--if I refuse to 'forfeit' these rights, that would preclude Ambassador El'kood from aiding me," he finished.

"That would be correct." The assistant tilted his head in a gesture reminiscent of a nod.

Knight had come to realize the circumstances of this meeting, but only after having verbalized those circumstances did he actually register the gravity of the situation. It felt as though he'd been hit between the eyes with a brick.

"To accept you as a confidant, Captain Knight, would be a most costly enterprise for me," Tripsa asserted. "Your status as a former traitor has seriously hurt your reputation throughout a great many circles. Rendering aid to you would be met with much resistance, requiring many avenues; and of course I must consider my reputation."

"This is...this is...is--" Knight searched for the least offensive word to explain the indignity he felt. Tripsa didn't give him that chance.

"Simply a deal I am proposing to you under the dictates of Andorian custom," interrupted Tripsa deftly. "This is not coercion in any sense, simply an agreement--an understanding. You have need of my strength, and I in turn need something which you possess."

Knight opened his mouth to speak.

Tripsa raised a hand, cutting him off. "Consider my words carefully, Captain. You have heard what I offer. Do we have an agreement?"

Knight's features more than displayed the magnitude of the disgust and offense he felt. Melina had meant so much to him in the short time they'd become intimate. He didn't want to lose her...

"Done."

Even though he'd agreed to Tripsa's terms, he could scarcely believe that he'd uttered the word. Apparently Melina was in even more astonishment.

"Xanthus , no!" Melina practically jumped out of her chair. "This is--"

"Melina!" her father barked sharply. "He has made his decision."

"But--"

"Captain Knight has made his decision," repeated Melina's father through grit teeth. "You will not speak further."

By any accounts, Melina Iv'Oor was as headstrong and brash as any Andorian. But Andorian family life strictly adhered to a patriarchy--even years away from home had not made her bold enough to defy the wishes of her father. She meekly returned to her seat; her stare fell to the floor.

"Splendid," beamed Tripsa triumphantly. "Mark my words, you have made the right decision, Captain. I thank you for that and for your time."

Upon beaming to the surface, the Starfleet officers found the entrance to the cavern unguarded, just as their informant had said. The contingent fanned out across the area immediately around the entrance and took up a defensive posture. After the perimeter had been secured, both Neeley and Abdon shouldered their phaser rifles and whisked out tricorders to confirm orbital scans.

Within seconds they'd confirmed what the runabout sensors had told them: tricorders would be useless in the caverns themselves. Neeley and Abdon turned to Rojc in succession and shook their heads.

Rojc, in turn, approached the gaping mouth of the cave and stopped short of the craggy entrance. To any observer unfamiliar with Rojc's capabilities, he appeared to simply stand still, staring blankly into the cave. In actuality, Rojc keenly extended his enhanced senses to their fullest limits, seeking to learn the environment of the cave--sounds, smells, sight...anything that could be helpful in determining if they were headed into an ambush.

After a moment longer, he'd reached the decision that all seemed okay in the cavern ahead for as far as he could perceive. Rojc took confidence in his abilities, despite being in an unknown environment. But just hours ago he'd been blindsided. The thought preoccupied him like no other.

Rarely had his senses failed him before; he'd come to rely on them so much that life apart from them had become something of an unfathomable concept. As much as Rojc didn't like to admit it, his time in therapy had given him a refreshed view of the abilities that he'd previously used to do terrible deeds. Breaking through the programming was beyond an eye-opening experience and it gave him incredible confidence.

Doubts or no, he wasn't about to let his confidence in them be shaken now. Commander Rojc looked back at Reese and nodded. With that, he entered the cave; the other Starfleet officers quickly falling into formation behind him.

Deeper and deeper they went, stopping only now and then to post sensor relays. The tension in the air was rapidly growing; in contrast to the cool conditions on the surface, the further they went into the cave, the more the cave seemed to take on a particularly hellish feel.

A shrill wind whispered through the passageways, disguising the echoes that hauntingly originated from deeper in the caves. The remaining natural light served only to cast a hazy red atmosphere, while the wind kicked up gusts of sediment. Perhaps most disconcerting was the foul stench reminiscent of the mixing of rotten Regulan Eelbird eggs, mildew, and the droppings of some foul vermin.

If that assault on the senses wasn't enough, the cavern structure was anything but easy to navigate. Sharp, jagged edges jutted from the cave walls, in addition to low ceilings, uneven ground surface, and unexpectedly steep craters.

In retrospect, it seemed as though the location was well suited to the Pah-Wraith cultists. The officers proceeded stealthily forward, following Rojc's lead. Their professionalism in the decidedly sinister atmosphere of the caves was impressive. By the time they'd reached the fork in the caves that led to the different chambers, it was a sweltering 35 degrees Celsius.

Team 2, led by Lieutenant Reese, cautiously filtered out of the ranks of Team 1 and took up position to take the cavern to the far right. Everyone stayed still while Rojc once again reached out with his senses to determine the likelihood of nearby resistance to their presence. Though he could again perceive no tangible threats lurking ahead in either direction of the two teams, something in his gut told him otherwise.

But there was no option other than to proceed. Hopefully he'd picked the right vein for Team 1 to take, and not expose Team 2, and more importantly Arona, to any great danger. He moved back into Reese's line of sight and pointed two fingers to his eyes--proceed with caution. Reese nodded, and with that both teams were once again on the move, now on separate paths.

This was a situation in which Arona had rarely found herself--being on an Away Team in a hostile, unknown environment. Most of her career had kept her inside of Federation borders; she'd never experienced this sort of sensation--the adrenaline rush, the tension. A bit foolishly perhaps, she'd expected that her experiences during the Dominion War could prepare her for something like this. It wasn't nearly enough.

The element of the unknown had a whole different feel. She'd fought Jem'Hadar and Cardassians; experienced their willingness to charge into battle--now she would be fighting fellow Bajorans, using the very same tactics they'd used during the Cardassian Occupation.

As her team continued forward, it only got hotter and darker. By now they were dripping with sweat and had turned on the SIMS beacons attached to their phaser rifles, neither of which would help their efforts to maintain a stealth presence. As they approached the final bend of the cave, Reese halted the team. Only a few hundred meters away did the cave open up into their target chamber. Everyone sat and listened intently to the darkness.

After a moment had passed, Lieutenant Reese moved forward. And once Strek and Abdon had covered the bend, he continued in and disappeared around the corner.

As the seconds ticked by, Arona swore she heard something. But neither of the two remaining security officers budged from their spots. Then there were muffled footfalls--they readied their rifles.

The sound of her communicator chirping to life caused Arona to flinch involuntarily. "Clear," Reese's voice whispered hoarsely. There was a shared sigh of relief as Reese appeared around the cave bend. He gestured forward and once again they were all on the move.

The chamber ahead indeed showed no signs of life. And except for some marginally greater brightness, there was little difference between it and the regular cave. Halfway across the chamber, the wind brought them sounds of phaser fire. Team 2 collectively dropped to the ground, switched off the beacons on their rifles, and they listened.

The sounds of a phaser fight continued, punctuated by the occasional cry of pain. However it wasn't long until Team 2 realized that sounds were echoing from deeper in the caves, roughly in the direction that they would have to take to reach the target chamber for the first team. They once again stood, and moved towards the sounds of the fight, their pace quickening as they went.

As they rapidly forged ahead, the light in the cave improved considerably. Unexpectedly, they came across another fork in the cave, sound and light echoing from both. The branch straightaway remained level, while to the left, the cave descended rather steeply.

Level ground gave them more of a chance in a firefight. Reese motioned forward and they all headed along the pathway straight ahead. It wasn't much longer before the narrow cave gave way to another chamber.

Fortune was with Team 2, however. Had the chamber been like the one they'd already checked out, they'd have been cut down upon reaching the opening. Instead, they found themselves on a craggy ledge, giving a commanding view of the expansive chamber below.

Things didn't look good. Lined up at phaser point before the terrorist leader was Commander Rojc and the rest of Team 1.