First Place Winner Stardate 20403.14

© 2004 by Federation Space and the author pen named Raymond Gage

The cold hard rock seemed to fuse to his face. While the pain was severe it was a good sign. Pain meant that he was still alive. He hesitated to open his eyes for what little light there was in the small cell would cause another, newer pain. He steadied his breathing but remained perfectly still trying to think of better times, warmer times. He shivered involuntarily and knew that the rock was bleeding off whatever body heat he still had. He needed to move to the small bench that was the only furniture in the tiny cell and off the floor.

He cracked one eye open, his left, for his right one was against the cold, hard rock of the floor. He blinked several times trying to bring things into focus. The cell had an interesting cant from his supine position, a view that was more interesting and less dreary than if he were sitting up.

His eye detected movement and centered on it. It was the “ants” as he called them, small energetic insect like creatures that always seemed to come out when he was not in the cell to find any crumbs around the small silver bowl that typically held his one meal of the day. If he had more energy he would smile for it was amusing that the small creatures would eat the gruel he was forced to consume. They had a choice.

He detected movement deep within the rock, a vibration, a hiss and then a rumbling. It drew his mind back to a different time and place…

With a thump the small shuttle locked onto the docking clamps in the shuttle bay of the USS Seymour. The pilot turned in his seat to address the shuttles lone passenger. “Captain Kwalin sir, we have arrived.”

Kwalin looked up from the PADD he was reading and smiled at the shuttle pilot. It had been a smooth ride from Starbase 326. Kwalin had spent the time reviewing tactical data from recent engagements with Dominion forces. It was fascinating to see how they often used not only smaller groups of ships but smaller classes as well to take on larger, more powerful Federation ships and defeat them. His fascination ended though when he read the casualty lists. Far too many were dying on the front lines. He hoped he could be a hand in changing that.

His recent posting to Admiral Ross’ staff was not only a great move up in his career, but also a chance to make a difference in the war. He had gained Ross’ attention when a defensive plan he had created for a convoy resulted in very minimal damage and no ship losses. Now he was moving up to the big leagues. The front lines.

As he rose and went towards the door the deck under his feet shifted. He regained his balance and stared out the front view port, watching crewmen of the Seymour rush about under the lights of red alert. The shuttle pilot jumped up and pushed him back into his seat. “Sorry sir, but the Seymour is under attack by Jem’Hadar ships. We need to get out of here.”

“Out of here? Wouldn’t we be safer staying with the ship?”

The pilot gestured out the front of the shuttle at a support beam as it fell with a hard crash onto another shuttle docked in the hanger. “No way sir. This ship is getting blasted. We might have a better chance if we can get out of the hanger and into warp.”

Kwalin didn’t need to say anything more. He strapped himself into the seat and hoped the pilot was as good as his confident answer would make him out to be. The engines of the shuttle screamed as the pilot ran them up to the limits. The tiny ship slid backwards, through the failing forcefield and into space behind the reeling form of the Seymour. The pilot spun the ship on its central axis and punched the impulse engines. The shuttle raced up past half impulse and then came to a crashing halt.

Kwalin was thrown forward against the straps of his seat restraints and then back hard against the padding. The tiny structural integrity field of the shuttle couldn’t compensate quick enough and both men were thrown around as the tractor beam that had grabbed the shuttle twisted and pulled it back toward the battle. They were caught.

The shields failed on the shuttle and Kwalin actually felt fear of dying for the first time in his life. “Is there anything we can do?” He yelled to the shuttle pilot who frantically tried rerouting power to engines and shields, hoping to slip free of the pull of the tractor beam.

The pilot never had a chance to respond. The small cabin was filled with the purple glow of a Dominion transporter. Two Jem’Hadar soldiers appeared in the tiny cabin and one fired the moment he became solid. An energy bolt lanced out and caused a gaping wound in the back of the pilots head, his lifeless body falling forward onto the controls.

The other soldier roughly unbuckled Kwalin’s straps and held him tightly before he could do anything to resist. “We have the objective.” The cabin swirled in purple light again and the three figures disappeared.

Outside the battle raged. A one sided battle. The Seymour was swarmed with Jem’Hadar fighters, each successive shot against the big ships hull causing a new section to be carved out of it. One nacelle floated free, the other was canted at an odd angle. The front of the primary hull was a jagged edge, large gashes from weapons fire were all across her hull. The ship was dead.

He was pulled back from the images to the present. “Stand up!” came the abrupt order. Kwalin did not even roll his head to the side to see the source of the words. He knew it was the Jem’Hadar soldier assigned to bring him back to the torture room. He just lay there, immobile, not giving in an inch. A booted foot prodded his thigh. Still he didn’t move. Then he heard a swish of air and felt the butt of the plasma rifle as it came down hard against the base of his spine. Now he moved, crying out in pain. He had tried to hold the shout in but the pain was too intense. Strong hands grabbed him under his arms and pulled him to his feet, propelling him out the door of his cell and down the corridor. With each plodding step his back screamed out in pain, he felt his head throb where they had beat him earlier. Inside he held his resolve, repeating his name, rank and number over and over in his head. He would give the slimy Vorta no information.

The soldier pushed him into the interrogation room which was, surprisingly, empty. He had expected to see the smiling visage of the Vorta, all neat in his appearance, so smooth in his speech. What he did find instead was a tall glass of water sitting in the middle of the table. He felt his tongue throb in his parched mouth, the ache of thirst at the base of his skull. He glanced around and reached out, cupping the glass in both hands. He knew better than to simply slug the water down, only to have his empty and dehydrated system rebel and send it right back up again. He took small sips, slowly feeling the moisture return to his mouth.

He slid into one of the chairs set across from each other at the small silver table. As he slowly sipped his water he took a moment to observe the room for the first time. When he was here last the only sight he remembered was the Vorta’s face, the fists of the Jem’Hadar soldier slamming into him and the blinding pain that accompanied them. The room was roughly four meters square, the walls a nondescript gray in color. Oddly enough there was no wall of glass or mirror where others could watch the interrogations. He looked into one of the corners, up near the ceiling, and saw the small camera there. He moved his gaze to a different corner and another camera stared back at him. Of course, he thought, they want to have anything I might say saved for later.

Fifteen minutes passed by while he sipped the last drop of water from the glass and set it back onto the table. No one came in. No voices came into the room. He was content with that as the chair was far more comfortable than the bench or the floor in his cell.

The thirty minute mark passed and he started to wonder what was going on. A small trace of fear crept up his spine. He wondered if they were finally through with trying to extract information from him. He took a deep breath. “If you’re hoping to get me talking to myself you are in for a long wait.”

The chair across from him shifted, coalesced in the light from the single lamp in the ceiling of the room, and took a non-descript human shape. It spoke. “You are not talking to yourself Captain Kwalin.” The thing smiled at him.

He tried not to leap backwards at the sight. He knew all about the “founders”, those shape shifting creatures who were behind everything the Dominion did. He had hoped to one day come across one, once the war was over and they were defeated, and ask it why they had initiated the war. He had never expected to have one reveal itself under these circumstances.

“I see that you have not been treated all that well Captain. I apologize for that. The Jem’Hadar, while extremely loyal and capable soldiers, get a bit overzealous at times. It’s in their genetic coding to act that way. Quite superb, if not stupid creatures.” The thing had a smooth and soothing voice. The cadence and tone it used made Kwalin feel like he could actually talk to it. Intelligently. Kwalin shook his head.

“So that’s why you use them as cannon fodder in your war of conquest.” His words held an edge, a sense of contempt for the creature in front of him.

It smiled again. “But of course Captain. Would you expect a God to fight the war? We have loyal servants who will do the bidding of their gods, to bring the unity and peaceful intentions of the Dominion to the Alpha Quadrant.”

“Peaceful?” Kwalin snorted. “You call massacring millions of innocent lives peaceful? You disgust me.”

The creature across from him waved it’s hand and in a swirl of transporter light a small plate appeared in the middle of the table. On it was two slices of bread, the scent wafting up to Kwalin’s nose, making his stomach rumble. He didn’t move.

“Now, now Captain, is that any way to talk to someone who is willing to feed you? Treat you fairly? You will come to understand that all we desire is peace. It is your Federation that has brought this hostility on. It is your incursions through the wormhole into the Gamma Quadrant that have led us on this course.”

Kwalin eyed the two pieces of bread. They would be the first real food he had eaten since being captured. He felt his taste buds tingle. He slid the plate away and closer to the changeling. “’ If thine enemy be hungry, give him bread to eat; and if he be thirsty, give him water to drink: For thou shall heap coals of fire upon his head, and God shall reward thee.’ I will not play that game.”

The creature shifted a bit in its seat, “Proverbs, Chapter twenty-five, verses twenty-one through twenty-two. An excellent literary work. I must say that, for such barbarians, you humans can turn a phrase. Such meaning behind simple words!”

Kwalin was taken fully aback by this thing, this creature, who’s very existence made him feel empty, yet at the same time was amazed how it knew the phrase he spoke of, how it almost intended him to use it.

They sat in silence for several minutes and then the changeling rose. “That was invigorating was it not? Until next time Captain.”

The door opened and the Jem’Hadar soldier entered. Kwalin took this as his cue to leave. He resisted all temptation to glance back at the bead on the table, instead he walked, eyes forward, towards his cell. Surprisingly the guard did not jostle, nor was he pushed into the cell. Something had changed.

Three days had passed and Kwalin was looking forward to the guard to come and lead him to the interrogation room and another conversation with the changeling. Kwalin had always been inquisitive with others and always wanted to now what wonders each different culture, species, or person could share with him. He oddly felt a connection to the creature. This fact bothered him but he justified it in the fact that he still regarded the changeling as a creature. Yes it was sentient, yes it was incredibly intelligent, but it was still the enemy. This lone fact kept him from falling completely into the trap of comporting with the enemy. So far no strategic information had been shared, only interesting conversation regarding literature and the human condition. Little did Kwalin know this was how the “creature” was getting to understand Kwalin better.

“The advent of so many religions on your home world baffles me Captain. How was it that one unifying force did not bind these factions together under one common belief?”

Kwalin thought for a second then responded. “It was largely a case of locale and culture. Great distances separated many of the population centers and it took hundreds of years for any one single word to unite. The Romans of the early first centuries were responsible for a great bit of the word spreading and unifying, but ultimately individual groups believed what was most comfortable for them.”

The changeling smiled. “Ah yes, the Romans. Such a noble people. A culture rich in conquest, philosophy and science. A shame they passed. Your world would be much different had they held power.”

To Kwalin it was no surprise that the changeling had a like for the Romans. Conquest and power, two things the Dominion and the Roman Legions seemed to share. Was it no different that the Caesars felt they were gods as well?

Kwalin looked down at the plate with the two slices of bread on it. This was one thing that had not changed in their talks. The bread always appeared and Kwalin never touched it. It was becoming a symbol for him. The day he would eat it would be the day he was released. He would not give them the dignity of having him break and eat it.

The changeling saw him staring at the plate again. “Come now captain. Wouldn’t it be easier to just eat the bread? Your hunger would be salved and we would take that first great leap of co-operation together.” The changeling pushed it closer. Kwalin pushed it back. And so the game continued.

Two more days passed. They were again sitting in the interrogation room, bread on the table between them. However, this time there was silence for nearly ten minutes. Finally the changeling spoke. “What were the strategic dispositions of the second fleet at the time of your capture?”

Kwalin was stunned at first by the question. It was the first of it’s kind since the Vorta had interrogated him more than five days ago. He said nothing, staring at his hands folded on the table in front of him. The changeling repeated the question.

“I don’t understand. Why are you suddenly asking this question. Surely you know that any data I may have is old and useless?”

“True Captain,” the changeling replied, “but your willingness to answer will determine the fate of many.”

“What do you mean? If I answer you could use the information to catch the fleet by surprise or pick it apart piecemeal. There is no…”

“Or you could save the lives of many. Tell me the fleets disposition. We are planning to overtake a certain system, if the fleet is not in that area it will be a bloodless takeover. However, if your fleet is in the vicinity a battle will be had and there will be many lives lost.”

Kwalin stared hard in disbelief at the request that was being made of him. If he were to reveal what he knew he would betray the ideals he had pledged an oath to. If he did not he could possibly lead thousands to their deaths. He wrestled with this dilemma for a few more seconds and reached a decision. “I’ll tell you only if you show me definitive data on what you have planned. I want proof that what I will do will save lives.”

“Agreed.”

The door opened and the changeling led him down a different series of corridors to a larger set of double doors. They opened and they stepped in. “Oh Founder thank you for gracing us with your…” The changeling slapped the Vorta that had interrogated Kwalin hard in the back of the head. “Shut up Vorta and bring up the display of our recent plans.”

The Vorta glanced over at Kwalin and, were it not for the earlier rebuke, thought about reminding his god that the enemy was in their midst. Instead he rubbed the back of his head and activated the display.

Kwalin immediately recognized the system showed there. He also knew that the fleet was, at the time of his capture, in no position to stop any possible assault. He had made his choice. “The fleet was positioned just five light years from this system. They were gathering in a defensive posture but could easily respond to this attack.”

Kwalin looked sideways at the changeling as it took in his words. “Very well. Let us see if the Captain can be trusted. Bring up the long range sensors.”

Kwalin swallowed hard knowing that his bluff had just been called. He only hoped he could convince the changeling that the fleet had moved. Nevertheless, the attack by Dominion forces would still occur. He knew he had failed. When the sensor displays showed nothing the changeling shook his head in disgust. “Take the Captain back to his cell.”

This time the Jem’Hadar grabbed him roughly and pushed him hard, then hit him in the kidneys with the butt of his rifle. Once back at his cell the beating he had received was the worst of his captivity. After it was over he lay on the cold, hard, floor in a fetal ball and lamented his place in life, wishing he would just die.

The green swell of the hill met the dull grey of the sky, the two colors so different, so contrasting, so much a part of home. Home. Not just Earth but Ireland, it’s misty hills and the smell of the ocean on the breeze. A place where people of pride and family lived. Where Katie was.

She came walking over the hill, her dress flowing behind her in the breeze, her hair swirling around the beautiful, pale complexion of her face, her smile radiant, the only sun to be seen. “I’ve missed you my love, my dear sweet Kwalin.”

“And I have missed you, my love.”

Her smile grew broader and then impossibly big, her face splitting at the seams of her mouth, opening, peeling back and the sneering expression of the changeling, it’s almost human appearance stared back at him.

“No! Katie! Come back, No! No! Noooooo!”

The green hills erupted as phaser fire from Dominion fighters slashed the ground. The grey sky filled with dark billowing plumes of smoke. His world was on fire. His home was gone.

He came awake with a start and then winced in pain. The last beating was the worst so far. The nightmare still very vivid in his mind. He hung his head in shame. He had broken, revealed strategic information to any enemy. It didn’t matter that the information was false, it mattered that he had said more than name, rank and number, that he had become comfortable with that thing, let his defenses drop. For some reason he could not turn his anger at the changeling, but only on himself. He had failed and now all he wanted to do was die. The pain was too much, the shame intensifying it. The door opened.

He had no more strength, no more will. Maybe this time the Jem’Hadar would kill him, put him out of his misery. The soldier grabbed him under his arm and propelled him to his feet and towards the door. Kwalin looked back at the reptilian face and received a snarl in return. It was obvious he was to walk out of the cell.

With painful, plodding steps he walked the short corridor and back to the familiar interrogation room, the location of his betrayal. The room made him shiver. He was pushed roughly into the chair, the chair he had always sat in, the place from where he was willing to give up his loyalty, where he had become a traitor.

The changeling sat in it’s usual spot, no expression on its face. It did not need to look up at the guard to indicate it’s intentions. The soldier left, the door hissed closed on the silence.

Kwalin did not look up, did not attempt to make eye contact with the thing. He was through talking. All he wanted to do was die. Finally the Changeling spoke.

“Captain, the time has come for your last bit of usefulness to us, to me.”

“I have nothing left to say.” Kwalin hissed through bruised and tattered lips. “Kwalin, Captain, number 4692036.”

The thing smiled at him. “Captain, it matters little what you say any longer. I will soon have no need for your words.” The thing started to coalesce slightly, its rudimentary human shape now taking a more descript form. With horror Kwalin watched as the changeling became human. Became him. He stared across at what he must have looked like prior to the lousy diet and beatings. A handsome man with piercing hazel green eyes, a twinkle hiding behind them, neat brown hair, perfect teeth in a warm and welcome smile. Then the thing spoke. “How do you look?”

Kwalin shuddered again. It was his voice. Impossible but true. He sat up in the chair leaned closer against the table even as his beaten body protested the action by sending pain shooting through him. “It’s not possible. It can’t be.”

“Oh I’m afraid it is my good Captain. You see I’m going to replace you, in essence become you. No one will be the wiser. I’m sure your own beloved Katie would never be able to tell the difference.” Kwalin lashed out at the creature, a snarl escaping his lips, hands reaching for the throat. The changeling dodged this attack with uncommon speed, a peal of laughter coming from it, a fist coming down on Kwalin’s head, smashing him into the table.

“Please do not make this any more difficult than it has to be Captain. You cannot defeat me, you cannot kill me. And if you did what purpose would it serve? Surely you know that the Jem’Hadar on the other side of that door will kill you moments later.”

Catching his breath from the blow, Kwalin clutched his mid section and slid back into the chair. His face was a mask of rage. “At least I’ll know that you are dead before me.”

“Tsk tsk, Captain. Is that any way to treat yourself?” A bigger laugh as the creature sat down across from him. Then it reacted. It was so fast Kwalin never saw it happen. One moment he was leaning back in the chair grasping his midsection, the next he was pulled flush against the table, legs bound to the legs of the chair he sat in, arms pinned at the wrists to the table.

“It’s now time Captain, for you to give me the very last thing I need from you.”

Two tiny tendrils grew out of the fore head of the creature. They were small and could be compared to very fine optical filament. Kwalin watched as they hung and danced above the Changeling’s head. Then the moved closer to his own face, across his upper cheek, back towards his ear lobes. He could feel them tickle his outer ear and he tried to jerk away, move his head. His breath came in gasps of fear. He couldn’t turn his head, move so the things would not enter. He felt them slide in, these tiny wire like tendrils, and pierce his eardrum. He screamed.

His memories flowed from him like a dam that had been broken. The rush of different emotions made his body tremble, all the images flashing in his minds eye then were gone. His very essence was being robbed from him. Who he was would soon no longer exist.

The tendrils traced the outer lining of Kwalin’s brain and, finding the right points, pierced the brain matter firing off electrons, igniting brain function. They were almost like fiber optic filament, a source of data transfer. As they emptied one region of brain they moved onto the next taking more of who Kwalin was and sending them into the being attached to the other end.

The green swell of hill was dotted with white daises. The sun was out, bathing everything in its warm yellow glow. A hint of sea was in the air, the kind of day where one would take a huge lung full of the stuff and feel it invigorate you. Katie was there, holding his hand. They stared at each other, their love shared in that glance. He leaned forward and they met, their lips touching, expressing their true feelings. Then it all went black.

The man who was once Captain Kwalin slumped forward as the restraints were removed from him, landing face first against the table with a thud. A small trickle of blood escaping his nose and ears and running onto the table.

Captain Kwalin stood and took in a long deep breath, feeling it invigorate him. He looked down at the figure slumped there and, for a moment felt remorse and sorrow for what had just transpired. Then those new emotions were grabbed under control by the true being that was Kwalin. In his mind Kwalin was not dead, but merely reborn in a greater image. He was Kwalin. That tattered, beaten, shell of a human was just that. A shell, a husk of who Kwalin once was.

He ordered the door open and the guard, staring at the human in a Star Fleet uniform before him, leveled his plasma rifle and almost fired. He was stopped short by an arm that reached out across the distance and yanked the rifle out of his hands. “It’s me you dolt.” The guard bowed his head and went to one knee expecting to be struck down by his god. Instead the rifle was returned to him. “Get up and dispose of what remains here.”

Kwalin left the room and walked toward his future.

“Captain’s Log, Star date 199812.3. We have detected a faint distress signal and are about to enter orbit of the planet of it’s origin. My science officer tells me the distress signal is Federation and Star Fleet specific. The planets ionosphere will not allow the use of transporters so I have dispatched a shuttle to investigate.”

The short trek from the safe landing zone to the pile of debris that was the remains of a Star Fleet shuttle pod, took only three minutes. Commander Lochran, the First Officer of the USS Traveler, led his tiny group consisting of two security officers and a medic up to what was the bottom of the shuttle as it was tilted on one of it’s sides, no doubt a result of it’s crash. “Hello! Any one here?”

Tricorders showed one human life sign suffering from several minor injuries, slight dehydration and malnutrition. A figure leaned out from behind the wreckage a smile across his dirty and smudged face. His hazel green eyes twinkled at the sight of the small group. “Boy am I glad to see you people.” He shuffled over, obviously limping. The medic immediately went to her med kit, using a medical scanner. “You have a slight ankle fracture, nothing too serious though.”

Commander Lochran stepped forward a smile on his own face, glad to find a survivor. “I hope your stay hasn’t been too difficult Captain?”

Kwalin smiled. “Not at all. I’m just glad you guys found me. I can’t wait to get back.”