PART VI

Belying the stealthy presence and covert nature of their mission, the Pah Wraith cultists had adorned the cavern chamber and leading passageway in appropriate ceremonial decor. Ornate torches lined the walls, while large, lavish red draperies hung suspended from the ceiling. On top of a rise in the center of the chamber sat perched an imposing wood altar, covered with inscriptions of ancient Bajoran text.

The echoes of phaser fire and shouting startled Colonel Li Jaden out of his meditative state. His eyes were immediately drawn to the mouth of the chamber, the direction from where the sounds originated, back in the caves. Automatically, Li's battle senses snapped into place, while his adrenaline levels peaked. Though poised to act, he could only sit idly by behind a level seven force field.

A stocky Bajoran lieutenant ambled up to where Li sat. "What do you make of it, Colonel?"

"Besides the obvious, Dekon?" Li shook his head. "I'd say someone or something just got ambushed."

"Poor bastards."

Gradually the sounds of the fight began to abate. Before long, the natural silence of the caves returned with a foreboding finality. When the first Bajoran terrorist entered the chamber, Li rose to his feet and paced to the far edge of the force field to get a better view. Soon more of the terrorists followed, some injured--but nothing looked as if it were serious. What followed next was of far more interest to Li.

Inexplicably, a small team of restrained Starfleet officers was led in at phaser point. They were in far worse shape than the Bajorans that had just ambushed them. From the cuts and bruises, one could tell that most of the injuries were sustained after the firefight had finished. Of the four officers, one in particular stood out--a tall, lean man bearing the rank of Commander appeared to be in perfect health, until Li noticed several daggers sticking out of his back. Li studied the man carefully--the way he moved and carried himself was subtlety different from that of a Human. For the briefest of moments, Li thought he recognized the man.

"So this is what the Prophets have sent to oppose us," boomed a voice from the far side of the alter. The owner of the voice was Zayra Laan, the supposed new Emissary of the Pah-Wraiths. Zayra was a Bajoran of average stature, though there was little else average about the man. He had an unusual intensity about him, his dark, brooding eyes and fiery red hair of particular notice.

The Starfleet officers had now been lined up in front of Zayra, each with two guards standing behind them. He walked to each officer, staring deep into their eyes, then silently moved on--until he stood in front of the commander. "Have you nothing to say?"

"You are all under arrest," Rojc returned without missing a beat.

Zayra laughed heartily. "You do not falter, even in the face of certain defeat. No wonder the Prophets chose you." Zayra casually turned his back to Rojc and started to walk away.

"The Prophets chose nothing," Rojc uttered with a condescending certainness.

The Bajoran leader turned around briskly and sneered at Rojc. "If only that were so. Perhaps the Prophets chose poorly--you do not yet understand."

"Understand what?" demanded Rojc incredulously. "Understand that you are a bunch of religious zealots bent on propagating chaos?"

"Always the man with the glib comment, are we?" Zayra chuckled to himself. "It is not a matter of chaos, rather of balance. The Prophets would manipulate the affairs of linear space, so must the Pah Wraiths."

"At least the Prophets don't have to resort to sacrificing the lives of innocents."

Zayra frowned. "I will admit you are a worthy foe, but simply because you defeated and turned Tamil does not intimidate me, Commander Rojc. Think about why you are here, Commander. Do you really believe it is all coincidence?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The diplomatic mission to Deep Space Nine--do you really believe you were assigned to the mission for your qualifications? Of course not." Zayra's eyes met Rojc's. "The Prophets are using you--you're nothing more than their pawn in their war against the Pah Wraiths. They only seek to serve their own interests and gratification."

"Save me the propaganda and cut to the chase," Rojc said with slight irritation.

"For centuries and centuries, the Prophets have been able to communicate with my people en masse via their orbs," began Zayra. "Now the Pah Wraiths will have that same advantage. Believe me, Commander, I did not want to resort to live sacrifice--but the Pah Wraiths do not give power without sacrifice. They feel to do otherwise is irresponsible."

"Sacrifice yourself then, if you're so 'noble'," Rojc declared.

"I find it much more effective to our cause to sacrifice enemies rather than our own," Zayra retorted. He turned his attentions away from the Starfleet officers to the attendants at his side. "Retrieve the orb. Prepare our 'guests' for the ceremony."

In a blur of motion, Rojc broke his restraints and rushed Zayra--but was stopped short. "I suppose I should have warned you that I am even more skilled in the ways of the Pah Wraiths than my apprentice," declared Zayra contemptuously as he tightened his grip on Rojc's throat. He held Rojc there, gasping for air on his knees for a moment longer, before finally releasing him to the guards.

Li couldn't help but feel despondent. But as he dropped to his knees to whisper a final, solemn prayer to the Prophets, a glint of light reflecting off something caught his eye. Li looked for the source and once again scrutinized the ledge at the far edge of the cavern--perhaps there was yet hope.

It was little more than a week later that Nicot rendezvoused with Lidorichm's ship. Without so much as a word, the guards had escorted him back to the briefing room where he'd received his mission. He was ushered in; Nicot hoped this was a good sign. He strolled over to the chair and slowly sat, waiting for someone (presumably Cannis) to join him.

He didn't have to wait long. Director Cannis Lidorichm entered the room and silently walked behind the desk, where he took his seat. He leaned back and folded his hands, simply staring at Nicot.

Nicot knew he couldn't afford to show weakness at this point, so he avoided any eye contact. If Cannis looked into his eyes, he'd know that Nicot was deeply ashamed...totally unsuitable for Section 31. And Nicot had already decided that he was in this far...

The Director finally spoke, breaking the deafening silence that hung in the air. "I believe I owe you an apology, Mr. Nicot."

Nicot blinked stupidly. "What?"

"I didn't think you'd be able to do it--kill those guards who had seen you. I underestimated you, and I apologize," replied the Zakdorn coolly.

"How...?"

Cannis cleared his throat. "You asked previously about the importance of this mission. Naturally, I wasn't going to rely solely on a new recruit."

"You sent a team ahead of me...you--"

The Director interrupted the string of curse words from the Bolian. "I am the Director of Section 31; nothing is beyond my manipulation." Cannis smugly regarded Nicot for a moment. "For the record, it was only one agent. As you're already acquainted with her, you can understand that she had a personal stake in making sure all went as planned."

"This was another one of your cracked tests! You set this all up--"

Cannis interrupted again. "Please calm yourself, Mr. Nicot. I already made it clear that I cannot go on simple word alone. This was necessary."

Nicot silently glared, full of malice and anger at Lidorichm. It was dragging in him. Against every impulse, he didn't fight it.

"I'm delighted to tell you that you've passed," added Cannis, returning to his friendly facade. "This is your 'Welcome to Section 31'."

Surprisingly this eased Nicot considerably, but he was nevertheless upset--he had been set up to kill in cold blood. He was forced to kill in cold blood. "So what now?" he spat.

"For now," began the Director, "Section 31 has use of you on the Phantom."

"Why?" demanded Nicot, "What is it about the Captain and Dade that I'm needed to spy on them?"

"I'm afraid that isn't for me to reveal, Mr. Nicot. Your contact, or should I say your recruiter, will fill you in when she deems it necessary. I've learned to give her a lot of latitude in these matters."

"Who?" Nicot demanded again.

Cannis simply smiled and shook his head 'no'.

"Don't I get anything for this? Haven't I earned any trust yet?"

"In time. In due time."

Reese, Strek, Abdon, and Arona lay flat on the ledge observing the situation in the chamber below them. The "situation" was hardly encouraging.

"I count...twenty-two hostiles," Strek reported quietly as he zoomed in with his binoculars, "Seventeen armed, five appear unarmed."

"Have you spotted anything that could be an alternate entrance?" Reese asked gruffly.

Strek surveyed the cavern further before he finally responded. "Not exactly, sir."

Reese shot Strek a dirty look. "Yes or no?"

"About twenty feet from the base of this ledge, a tunnel ends less with less than a meter of rock between it and the chamber. I can't be certain from here, but I think the area will remain stable if we blast through," Strek explained. "The tunnel must be accessible from that last fork we passed."

"We're on the move." The Starfleet officers cautiously began to crawl away from the ledge, when Reese held them up. "Arona--" He paused until Arona turned her face to him. "Stay here and get set to lay down sniper fire at my signal."

"But-- " Arona began uncertainly.

"You're level 9 anti-assassin, no?" Reese shot back. "We need a qualified sniper. Stay here--that's an order." With that, he continued to edge away with the others following him. Shortly thereafter, they were out of sight back in the cavern they'd come from. Arona was now alone.

She was indeed an unlikely candidate for anti-assassin training, but it had come from her desire to be as competent protecting life outside the sickbay as inside. Having a natural proficiency with firearms and tactical procedures, most of Arona's instructors had advised a security/tactical program. But she'd stuck by her desire to pursue medicine--security never brought the same satisfaction, the same feeling of completion that she derived from being a doctor.

Admittedly though, now Arona was starting to find herself more at ease. She flicked the scope of her rifle to the 'on' position and steadied the aim of the weapon for when she would be called upon to use it. Even though her abilities had no doubt suffered from years of neglect, Reese's reminder bolstered her confidence--level 9 was a high skill level indeed--even Nicot or Captain Knight didn't have as impressive progress in the anti-assassin program.

A commotion down by the terrorists caught Arona's attention and she stared into the scope, attempting to ascertain what was happening. She didn't like what she saw--Li, Rojc, and all the others were now lined up in front of the crude wood altar in what was roughly the center of the chamber. The few unarmed Bajorans seemed to reading from some archaic book on the altar and chanting--what they were chanting, she couldn't hear.

Arona silently cursed. Whatever this 'ceremony' was, it appeared to be progressing and still there was no signal from Reese. It was almost at that same moment she realized the continually rising temperature and odd glowing emanating from a box on the far edge of the altar. She might not have normally believed in Bajoran spirituality, but these hardly seemed like normal circumstances--every impulse in her body screamed for her to open fire before it was too late.

And then, with but a mere squeeze of her finger, Arona downed her first hostile. She rained down another six phaser blasts; five of them hitting their mark, before the terrorists finally realized what was happening. Most of the inhabitants of the chamber below had dove for cover--but not the one who was apparently the leader.

Her eyes went wide with disbelief as the terrorist leader summoned a pillar of fire from the box on the altar with but a gesture of his hand. Unarmed or not, Arona took aim and fired, but to no avail--trails of fire rushed out to sweep away the phaser blasts.

For a moment, the terrorist leader seemed to look Arona directly in the eye through the scope. The leader gestured again, and this time the pillar of fire sent an immense, billowing plume of flame hurtling towards the ledge. Though Arona sensed the incoming danger, she laid there still, seemingly transfixed by the fiery plume that now threatened to consume her.

At the last instant, a signal on her communicator returned Arona to her senses. She jumped to her feet and dove backward into the entrance to the cave behind her. She hit the ground with a huff just as the flaming discharge slammed into the ledge. Arona tucked her arms in close to her body along with her rifle and without delay started rolling down the cave floor away from the chamber entrance. The force of the explosion sent flames racing into the cavern after her.

For a moment, Arona felt the intense heat on her skin as the fiery blast came within centimeters of her. At the last moment, the accompanying concussive force of the explosion violently propelled her forward and free of the danger from the flames. After the blast had dissipated, Arona lie on the cavern floor in an unmoving heap.

Captain Xanthus Knight boldly strode down a hall of the Federation Council Chambers just north of San Francisco. Almost immediately after reaching Earth, Council member Channing had summoned him to his office--not unlike Tripsa had done upon his arrival on Andor. Knight wasn't quite sure if it was a good sign, but the anxiety and worry he felt was minimal. Knight took comfort in the notion that for what he'd given up, Tripsa had one hell of an ace up his sleeve to resolve the situation as was requested.

Knight finally arrived at the office, pausing briefly to clear his throat before he pressed the door chime. The door slid open before him, revealing the interior of a rather spacious and opulent office.

Channing looked up from his desk and scowled. "Captain Knight." He casually dropped the PADD he had been reading into a drawer and directed his full attention to the Starfleet officer in front of him. "Have a seat."

Knight crossed the room and took a seat directly across the desk from Channing. "Council Member," began Knight cordially, acknowledging the man's authority. "I believe you requested to see me."

Channing's scowl only grew. "You know damn well why you're here, Captain--spare me the naïveté."

"Couldn't whatever you have to say wait for the hearing before Starfleet Command?" inquired Knight, with a barely noticeable defiant tone.

"Arrogant son-of-a-bitch," Channing declared angrily. "I already know who's supporting this foolish bid of yours to return to SIC duty. I think we both know the call I received from your friends will force my hand."

"And what call would that be, Council Member?" asked Knight with genuine interest--Tripsa hadn't actually told him how the situation would be resolved--only that it would be resolved.

"You can drop the pretense, damn it." Channing's voice rose. "Since you've given me little choice, I see little recourse than to approve your proposal to return to active SIC duty and transfer jurisdiction of the Phantom back to Admiral Bates."

"Thank you, sir."

Channing now openly glared at Knight with genuine disgust. "For your own sake, Captain, you better hope for a miracle in the next two years--because if you don't bring this mystery Enforcer of the Syndicate to justice, I'll see that you never wear that uniform again. You're a disgrace to it as it is."

"That's quite a charge to be throwing around so carelessly, Council member," Knight replied bitterly. "You held me back with a technicality of the rules--you'll forgive me if I respond with appropriate measure."

"Blackmail is some damn appropriate measure! If I so much as hear a whisper about my 'alleged' connections to the Outland-Ling IC--" Channing paused to compose himself. "You might think you've got me by the balls, Knight, but if I go down, I can assure you I won't be the only one. Now get the hell out of my office!"

Just as the situation seemed to calm down back in the large cavern chamber, chaos broke out anew. The terrorists were in the process of rounding up their quarry when the far chamber wall exploded in a pyrotechnic display that rivaled that which Zayra had just summoned. Reese, Abdon, and Strek came charging through the wall, phaser rifles firing.

To the already bruised and shell-shocked terrorists, the latest assault only sent them into further disarray. Six more fell to the Starfleet team in the first few rounds, while the few still on their feet scattered about in all directions--looking for escape, surrender, or direction from their leader.

Zayra Laan alone stood amidst the fighting in a perfect calm. With a simple motion of his hand, the pillar of fire scattered swirls of fire across the chamber in mere seconds. They flew about as if a bird or some other flying beast, easily dodging all the incoming phaser fire from the terrorists and Federation personnel alike. The fiery demons swooped about in packs, hunting the inhabitants of the chamber; one was literally burned away in seconds.

Lieutenant Reese had seen a lot in his short career, but what he saw now was perhaps the most arcane sight he'd ever beheld. And like any good soldier, he approached the situation with clarity of thought: Reese lobbed three photon grenades at the altar.

Reese hit his mark and all three grenades bounced up to the altar. They exploded with a thunderous boom, more than sufficient yield to destroy the altar and the Orb. A great hellish screech sounded through the chamber as the pillar wavered and began to fade.

All at once, Zayra went from perfect calm to raving lunatic. "No!" he shouted, horrified by the loss of the Orb. He turned to watch the pillar of fire he had previously controlled sway about wildly. In what seemed like one last "act" of the pillar, it half-fell half-swooped directly towards Zayra. He desperately slapped at something on his left forearm--just as the fire swirled about him. And like that, the fire--and Zayra--was gone.

Though stunned by the incredible nature of what they had just witnessed, the superior training and discipline of Starfleet kicked in. Deep Space Nine's ERT and the Bajoran Militia officers wasted no time in taking control of the situation from the remaining terrorists.

From across the cavern, Rojc walked up to where Lieutenant Reese stood. "Quick thinking, Lieutenant." He eased into a grin, and extended his hand. "I'll be recommending you for special commendation when we get back."

Reese accepted the hand and shook it enthusiastically. "Thank you, sir," replied a humble Reese, with what passed for a wry grin on his face. "I'm just glad it worked."

"So am I." Rojc took another look around the chamber. "What about Lieutenant Arona?"

In a momentary lapse, Reese let a frown slip. "Last I ordered sir, she was on the ledge at the far end of the chamber." Both men looked up to the smoking crater where the ledge used to be.

Rojc's hand instinctively leapt to his communicator. "Rojc to Arona--respond!"

There was no answer.

A knot turned in the pit of Rojc's stomach. "Arona, are you there?"

"No," echoed a voice from the impromptu entrance into the chamber, "I'm right here!" Arona hobbled into view, clear of the rubble, and came fully into sight--covered in soot, face cut and bruised, and lacking a communicator. Rojc felt immediate relief upon seeing her, but he was not the only one.

"Illysa!" An ecstatic Colonel Li Jaden rushed to embrace his lover. Within moments, the two were in each other's arms, sharing a passionate kiss.

Knights stepped off the small transport shuttle that had brought him from the Council Chambers to downtown San Francisco. As he departed the Transbay Terminal, a large Andorian almost immediately joined Knight. Crossing the Embarcadero plaza, they headed towards Market Street.

"Don't stop walking," instructed the Andorian quietly.

Knight cast a sidelong glance at the Andorian. "You're one of Tripsa's people?"

"I am," replied the Andorian. "I trust you have already met with the good Council Member?"

Knight nodded.

"Good," grunted the Andorian. "The Sihidyo sent me to debrief you and explain the finer points of the agreement."

"Start with Outland-Ling Intergalactic Consortium--what is the connection with Channing?"

The Andorian snapped his head to the right, his species' equivalent of a Human shaking their head. "The less you know of those details, the better for all involved."

"That's not good enough," Knight pronounced at once.

"I am afraid it will have to suffice," replied the Andorian with a tone that clearly indicated there would be no further debate. "Now then, as you may have figured out--your rank and clearance in the SIC will be reinstated immediately. Additionally, the Phantom has been placed under Admiral Bates' mission authorization once more."

"So Channing told me," Knight responded. "The Ambassador might have bothered to fill me in on these details before I came to Earth."

"The Sihidyo acts as he sees fit. It is not my place--or yours--to question his actions."

Knight glanced over at the Andorian again. "Then mind telling me how you lifted the Phantom from under Admiral T'Lara's nose?"

For the first time, the Andorian looked down at the Human he was accompanying, his face full of vague confusion. He seemed to ponder the words for a moment before he responded. "That too, is none of your concern. Suffice to say that the solutions to both of your requests of the Sihidyo had a related solution."

Knight scowled. "What's this about a time frame for my proposal? I never said I could track down this Enforcer in only two years."

"It will have to do," replied the Andorian. "That agreement--as well as bi-annual reviews by the Intelligence Oversight Committee--was vehemently insisted upon by the Council Member."

"And if I don't succeed?"

The Andorian was silent for a moment. "If you are not successful in your endeavor within the time allotted, your return to the SIC will end. And knowing the good Council Member, he will undoubtedly have built a case against you to see you out of Starfleet as well."

That's just great. What the hell did I get myself into? Knight mused to himself. "Please extend my sincerest gratitude to the Ambassador." The two men stopped walking. "Thank you for your time."

Despite the fact that he had left something of an unpopular figure in the Bajoran public eye, when Li Jaden stepped onto the Promenade, he received a hero's welcome home. The tale of the brave colonel and his loyal unit of soldiers had quickly engrossed the citizens of Bajor. Though the blame for a few successful terrorist attacks by the Pah-Wraith cult had fallen on his shoulders, his latest mission proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that Colonel Li and his officers would fight to the death to prevent further tragedy. While the team of Starfleet officers that had played such a key role in the success of the mission figured little into the publicity (Rojc had seen to that--with approval from the ERT, of course), they were far from forgotten. All in all, the events that had transpired reaffirmed the original mission to Bajor: assistance and eventual membership into the Federation.

Events after the daring rescue had blurred together; between much-needed medical attention, the taking of prisoners, and a concentrated sweep of the caverns, no one had much of a chance to banter back on the planetoid. Safely aboard Deep Space Nine, however, the chance for all involved to settle and converse amongst themselves presented itself in the form of a small ceremony and reception.

"...And in closing, let all of Bajor rejoice in this victory. For we are truly proud of those sons and daughters of our world that would sacrifice everything to keep it free and safe from harm," pronounced Minister Lenaris Holem, "We extend our thanks and gratitude to these heroes."

At that, the Minister stepped back from the podium to the applause of the assembled of the room. Colonel Li and his men rose from their seats to even more applause; they stood silently--most smiling--basking in the adoration that was showered upon them and the recognition that was a long time in coming.

Nearly an hour later, Li was still embroiled in the conversations and congratulations of many of the attendees of the ceremony. Finally he spied Commander Rojc enter the wardroom and join Kira and Arona in quiet conversation.

"Dade Rojc at a voluntary diplomatic function!?" exclaimed Kira.

"Maybe you need to visit sickbay again," added Arona.

"Ha Ha," returned Rojc with a half-smirk. "I trust the good Colonel is enjoying the festivities."

Before either Kira or Arona could respond, Li himself stepped up and clasped a hand on Rojc's shoulder. "Indeed I am, Commander," he beamed.

"Glad to hear it," replied Rojc cheerfully.

"It's not as if you haven't heard it enough yet--thank you, for everything." The two men shook hands, after which Arona and Li huddled together with their arms around each other's waists.

"I suppose this is where I should be modest and point out how this was really all Arona's doing--and of course, it was Lieutenant Reese who saved the day," Rojc offered with a smile.

"Ah yes, the legendary Rojc modesty," Kira interjected. They all shared a small chuckle at that.

"You'll pardon me if I ask a silly question?" Li inquired after a moment.

"Be my guest."

"Have we met before, Commander?"

Kira and Rojc shot each other a look.

"Not exactly..." Rojc shrugged.

"Do you remember the transport Naprem, Colonel?" asked Kira, taking over for Rojc.

"How could I forget?" Li answered with certainty. "Had I not been aboard that vessel when it was commandeered by the Cardassians, I might never have joined the Resistance."

At that, both Kira and Rojc smiled. "As it just so happens, Dade here is the reason you and the rest of the passengers of that transport made it back to Bajor alive instead of finding yourself in the Ore Processing Center on Terok Nor."

Both Arona and Li blinked in surprise. "Pardon?"

"It's something of a long story, Colonel," Rojc answered Li's confusion. "But you might remember that the Naprem responded to a distress call, which in turn brought in the Cardassian patrol that seized the transport."

"That was you?" asked Li incredulously.

Rojc nodded.

"In fact, your subsequent release to Bajor can be entirely attributed to Rojc," Kira explained.

"Well, I wouldn't say 'entirely'," Rojc added, casting a fond look towards Kira.

"By the Prophets!" exclaimed Li, "Then truly this is an occasion that calls for celebration!"

"I'll drink to that," Rojc responded, stopping a passing waiter and grabbing a drink off of the tray. He waited until the others had a drink before raising his glass. "To good friends--old and new."