The Battle of Betazed - Charlotte Douglas [84]
Lemec frowned. “Odd?”
“Jem’Hadar can’t act odd,” Luaran stated matter-of-factly.
“You’d better see for yourselves.”
Lemec and Luaran followed the glinn from Lemec’s office into the headquarter’s operations center. Cardassians manned their stations, but their attention was clearly concentrated on a viewscreen showing the adjacent Jem’Hadar barracks and grounds.
Despite the glinn’s claim, Lemec expected to see Jem’Hadar queuing in their usual lines, accepting their ration of white from a Vorta and repeating their ritual words of thanks. Instead, most of the Jem’Hadar stood as if frozen, barely breathing, eyes unblinking. A few wrestled each other in the dirt in brutal hand-to-hand combat. Several others had drawn their weapons and were firing on one another. Oblivous to the total chaos around them, the immobile ones didn’t flex a muscle. Some fell without flinching when the erratic weapons fire struck them.
“Is this some kind of drill?” Lemec asked Luaran.
“Jem’Hadar don’t kill one another in drills. The Founders don’t appreciate the unnecessary waste of soldiers.”
“Maybe the white’s contaminated,” Lemec suggested. “The resistance could have poisoned it.”
The glinn shook his head. “Most of them haven’t received their allotment yet.”
“Send in the Cardassian troops,” Luaran demanded. “This unacceptable behavior must cease at once.”
An officer at communications spoke up. “I’m receiving reports of similarly bizarre Jem’Hadar activity from every outpost. Do you have orders, sir?”
“Seal our perimeter with Cardassian troops,” Lemec ordered. “Order the others to do the same.”
The communications officer shook his head. “I can’t get through now. Someone’s jamming our signals.”
“It must be the Enterprise. Keep trying.”
Luaran frowned at the soldiers fighting on the viewscreen. “What about the Jem’Hadar?”
“You said yourself they’re replaceable.”
The Vorta had no chance to reply. A huge explosion rocked their headquarters, showering dust and debris and knocking several of the operations staff to the floor. Computer stations sparked and ignited. Lights flickered and went out.
Lemec shoved himself to his feet. The officer at communications would never rise again. A fallen ceiling beam had caved in his chest.
The loss of several of his staff was the least of Lemec’s concern. Where were the rest of his soldiers? Had they received his order to guard the perimeter? With the viewscreen blank, Lemec grabbed a phase-disruptor rifle and staggered outside to assess the situation, leaving Luaran to find her own way.
Shouted orders and the screams of wounded and dying greeted him. His headquarters was under attack and sustaining phaser fire from all sides. From the number of Cardassian bodies on the ground, he concluded that his troops had suffered heavy losses in the initial assault. Smoke from burning barracks and supply warehouses clouded the air, filled his nose, and obscured his vision. Stunned, he caught sight of Betazoid and Starfleet troops advancing on his position through the haze.
Beside him, Luaran doubled over and gasped for air. “You must do something.”
Before Lemec could issue an order, Starfleet forces overran the compound and surrounded him and Luaran. A tall human with dark hair and a dark beard pointed his phaser at Lemec. The pips on his collar identified him as a Starfleet commander. Upon seeing the gul, his eyes narrowed. “I remember you. Stand down, Lemec.”
Lemec remembered the commander as well: Riker of the Enterprise, who had been on hand for the gul’s last great humiliation when he’d faced Starfleet’s Captain Jellico. Out of options, Lemec dropped his rifle.
“What are your terms?” Luaran asked.
The commander smiled. “Unconditional surrender.”
Resigned to defeat, Lemec raised his hands above his head. Luaran did not. She simply stood there, which puzzled him.
The gul whispered, “Isn’t this when I get the pleasure of watching you activate your voluntary termination implant?”
Luaran’s calm was unshattered. “Not when I can still