The Battle of Betazed - Charlotte Douglas [1]
Hope spread through him like a blessing. Help for Betazed was on the way.
When he glanced at the aft sensor display, however, Sark’s optimism shattered. The Dominion and Cardassian fleet stretched behind him like a black cloud. With horror, he realized the armada had moved away from the Betazed system to engage the Federation forces here, at the starbase.
He ran a quick systems check. If his shuttle held together and his life support lasted long enough for him to reach Starbase 19, he could deliver the datachip to the station’s commander, who could then forward it to Starfleet Command. With a swift prayer that the Federation ships protecting the starbase would allow him access, Sark stiffened his shoulders and coaxed more speed from his damaged engines. Failure was not an option. If Betazed was to throw off the Dominion’s oppressive rule, Federation leaders had to receive his message.
Upon reaching the starbase, Sark tapped out a hail using the shuttle’s outboard running lights, hoping his attempt to identify himself would be understood, praying his Betazoid biosignature would register on the base’s sensors and that his ship wouldn’t be fired upon for its unannounced approach.
Sark’s ship was suddenly seized by a tractor beam and guided into a docking bay. A klaxon was blaring in the bay as he disembarked, and a Starfleet security detail with weapons drawn surrounded him. One of the guards pointed a tricorder at him, no doubt scanning for weapons.
“Identify yourself,” the team leader, an Andorian lieutenant, demanded.
Sark fought to control his breathing and spoke rapidly, hands spread. “Sark Enaren, I’m with the Betazed resistance, and I have to speak to your C.O. immediately.”
“That won’t be possible,” the lieutenant said. “The base is coming under attack. If you follow my men—”
“You don’t understand,” Sark interrupted, the deck suddenly shuddering beneath him with what had to be the first salvo of enemy fire. “What I have to tell him could make all the difference for Betazed. Please, just let him know I’m here. Tell him I’m with the resistance. Let him decide.”
The guard with the tricorder held out his findings to the lieutenant. The Andorian took note of them and seemed to waver. Then abruptly he tapped his combadge. “Th’Vraas to ops,” he said.
“Georgianos here,” a gruff voice bellowed. “Go ahead, Lieutenant.”
“Sir, I have the pilot of that shuttle we snagged. He claims to be with the Betazed resistance. He says he needs to speak with you urgently.”
The deck shuddered again and Sark could hear a cacophony of activity over the lieutenant’s combadge. After a moment it lessened, and the gruff voice returned. “Haul his ass up here, and make it fast. Georgianos out.”
“Your lucky day,” the lieutenant said to Sark. “Follow me.” The Andorian turned and began marching out of the bay, Sark falling in behind. As they moved into a corridor bustling with rushing Starfleet personnel, waves of frenzied emotions assaulted Sark’s Betazoid sensibilities and he attempted to shield his mind, but the feelings were too raw, too primal to block. Along with the strong determination and heightened excitement, he could almost smell the fear. With the size of the Dominion force bearing down on them, everyone on the station realized that within a matter of hours, they could all be dead.
An explosion cut through the corridor behind him, tearing into a knot of junior officers. One young man landed a few feet away from Sark, eyes glazed, his left arm missing. Smoke, choking dust, and the coppery stench of blood saturated the air. Sark reeled from the agonies of the wounded and dying that jammed his mind. A dusky blue hand suddenly gripped his arm. “You all right?” Lieutenant th’Vraas asked.
Steeling himself against the pain of those around him, Sark nodded once and let himself be led into a turbolift. The ride to the base’s operations center was thankfully brief. As he entered, Sark suspected that the station’s nerve center was being successfully