The Battle of Betazed - Charlotte Douglas [2]
In the center of the room, a short, stocky man with blond hair, intense gray eyes, and the framed pips of an admiral on his collar snapped orders with precision.
“All phasers, fire,” he directed the tactical officer, and on a large viewscreen, a Jem’Hadar battleship blossomed brilliantly as twin beams converged on its port engine nacelle. The admiral grunted in satisfaction before turning. “Commander Stein, get a team on those sensor arrays,” he called out as his eyes settled on Sark. “I’m Admiral Georgianos. You have thirty seconds to tell me who the hell you are and what brought you here.”
Quickly, Sark told him. And before his thirty seconds were up, Georgianos seemed to understand that the Betazoids’ struggle to end the Dominion occupation of their planet had become desperate.
Before the admiral could respond, there was an announcement of incoming fire from tactical. An explosion ripped through ops and knocked Sark to the floor, causing his vision to fail momentarily. He struggled to his feet and saw Admiral Georgianos slumped against a railing, blood trickling from a gash on his forehead. Another officer sprawled dead across the weapons console. Georgianos pulled himself to his feet and wiped his face with his sleeve.
“Shields off-line,” a young lieutenant reported in a shaking voice. “All communications are down, too, sir.”
Her announcement stunned Sark. “Admiral, my message needs to get to Starfleet—”
“Jem’Hadar, Admiral!” a security officer yelled. “They’re beaming in through weak spots in our scramble field.”
Defeat flickered over Georgianos’s square face, then disappeared in an instant. “Get those shields back up. We’ll hold them off as long as we can. The Twelfth Fleet is almost in range.” Georgianos turned to the Andorian security officer. “Th’Vraas, get this man to an escape pod.” To Sark he said, “I can’t spare anyone to go with you, so you’re on your own. If the Jem’Hadar attack ships don’t spot you, there’s a good chance a Starfleet ship will pick you up. Good luck.”
Georgianos was already bellowing new orders over the thunder of the Dominion barrage as Sark raced after th’Vraas again, this time down a narrow passage leading away from ops. The entire station shuddered spasmodically, and Sark wondered if he’d live long enough to reach the pod. Tamping down fear for his own survival, he silently repeated his mantra.
Failure is not an option.
Rage empowered his tired legs, but he wouldn’t let his anger at the Jem’Hadar distract him from his purpose.
“We’re here, sir.” Th’Vraas tapped a control panel in the passage wall and popped open a hatch. He pointed inside to a contact near the pod’s entrance. “As soon as you’ve secured the hatch, hit this and you’re launched.”
“Thank you.” Sark avoided the gaze of the lieutenant and climbed inside, fearing for the safety of the Andorian and the others on the station. Sark had seen the size of the Dominion fleet. Starbase 19, he feared, didn’t stand a chance.
Pushing the thought from his mind, he concentrated on his mission, secured the hatch, and tapped the launch control.
Nothing happened.
A nearby explosion must have jammed the mechanism. Sark tapped the contact repeatedly.
Still nothing.
The station rocked again. Sark searched wildly for a manual control, found a lever, and yanked on it, hard.
The force of the pod’s ejection from the starbase slammed him back into the opposite wall of the compartment, temporarily dazing him. His senses returned, and he scrambled to his feet.
Wasting no time, he inserted the datachip with its encrypted message into the subspace transmitter and began sending. Someone on a Starfleet vessel had to receive it. If Starfleet’s offensive didn’t succeed, the contents of the datachip might be Betazed’s only hope of throwing off the Dominion’s yoke.
From