GRAVITAS

Title: Gravitas, 1/26
Author: Jaye (Copyright July 2002)
Codes: VOY/TNG/DS9 Many Pairings NC-17

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all related characters and concepts are the property 
of Paramount. Gladiator belongs to Dreamworks SKG and Universal. No infringement 
is intended or profit made. This is NC-17 for adult themes, violence and sex. If 
you aren't interested (or aren't old enough), don't read it.

Archive: Drop me a note first so I know where it's going. Please keep the text 
(especially the disclaimer) intact.

Feedback: Sure but be kind, or at least constructive. E-mail is 
reader8901@fastmail.fm

Summary: Treachery raises the stakes and changes lives when the leader of the 
Terran Empire seeks to restore the Federation.

Note: Very AU, as this is basically the plot of the film "Gladiator" set in a 
Star Trek universe. Some scenes and dialogue closely mirror the film. No Maquis, 
no Delta Quadrant, etc. This is my response to Polly's Cha!Club challenge about 
movies.

***************

CHAPTER ONE

The small forest clearing shimmered in a constantly shifting pattern dominated 
by shadow as the sunlight was shattered by the leaves. Trees far older than the 
man admiring them stretched high, their branches flung wide in an eternal 
gesture of welcome or challenge.

Lower down, where the still figure leaned against one solid trunk, the landscape 
was less uniform. The gloom had crafted a sparse, loam-scented wilderness of 
shrubs and mosses, a few long stalks of flowers and grasses poking from the 
moist ground. Shade-loving varieties were in abundance as they crouched close to 
the earth, hiding small blossoms under the skirts of their leaves. The carcass 
of the downed tree that created this tiny forest pocket lay moldering, fungi 
sprouted like shelves along its tattered bark.

Birds, insects, even small mammals moved amid the dark and green, busily 
pursuing their next meal. Their hum provided a steady wash of sound that 
absorbed the swish of the wind in the trees.

"Your world has more than its share of darkness, my son." The voice came from 
the other side of the tiny glen as the gleam of white hair shone eerily in the 
half-light. A tall, thin man with a face weathered by time and worry crossed the 
space, avoiding the plants in his path.

"If this is where the vision quest brings me, Papa, there is little I can do 
about it." Chakotay roused himself and stepped forward, peering into Kolopak's 
eyes. "You are troubled."

"*You* are troubled," the older man replied, taking in the weary stance of his 
youngest son. "This war is not yours, and your spirit pays the price for your 
involvement."

"This war *is* mine because my people are fighting it." Chakotay snapped as a 
familiar irritation soured his pensive mood. "I'm not so insular as you. Men and 
women have put their lives in my hands, and I won't abandon them because *you* 
only count as family those who are your blood kin."

"That is not the issue and you know it, Chakotay. Your loyalty has never been 
questioned, nor your wisdom in caring about those outside our tribe." Kolopak's 
anger was quiet, but obvious, as he moved restlessly. His now-uncaring feet 
crushed what lay beneath them. "But you are also blinded to the failings of 
those you revere. You serve an Emperor, an Empire that is far from perfect."

He stopped and stared into dark eyes that mirrored his own. "In your mind, all 
of the member worlds that once belonged to the Federation are 'your people'. 
Others are not so enlightened. The Empire has evolved into a hierarchy. Terran 
humans are the pinnacle. Non-Terrans like yourself are second-class---luckily 
for them. And consider the way the other species have been treated: conquered, 
annexed, their dissidents enslaved. Even those who were counted as friends a 
century ago. This is hardly a utopia."

"I know," Chakotay replied tiredly as he rubbed his eyes with one hand. "But the 
Emperor cannot work for change within the realm until there is peace. Our 
enemies are all but gone. One last battle and it is done---I am done. Jean-Luc 
Picard will be able to rule without petty or perilous threats snapping at his 
heels. He's an honorable man, and he will finally be free to govern in the way 
he sees fit. And I will go home and leave all this behind me forever."

Kolopak sighed. "Duty is a jealous mistress, Chakotay. She may not release you 
as readily as you think."

"So you warned me years ago, Papa. Every time I see you here you bid me to walk 
away. And I tell you that the Imperial Fleet is my responsibility. I will not 
send men and women into battle while keeping my own hands clean." He shook his 
head. "But it's nearly over. Soon we will all be rewarded with a quiet life."

"I pray it will be so, my son." Kolopak rested his hands on Chakotay's shoulders 
a moment, then disappeared into the trees. A chill wind rose up and snaked 
around the trunks, causing grasses to bend and twigs to slap against each other. 
Chakotay ducked his head and wrapped his arms around his body, shivering.

When he opened his eyes, he was sitting on the floor of his temporary Ready 
Room, medicine bundle spread before him. He quickly gathered the ceremonial 
items and closed the bag. He could still feel the icy touch of the breeze, and 
went to the replicator for a warming cup of tea. He sat on the sofa under the 
viewports, his eyes on the stars.

************************************************************

The Enterprise, flagship of the Imperial Fleet, poised gracefully in space. A 
multitude of subordinate vessels floated in formation, all waiting. Countless 
thousands of men and women slept or manned their stations aboard the quiet 
ships. Their thoughts were untroubled, for each of them trusted their leader 
implicitly.

Chakotay of Dorvan was one of their own, moving up the ranks through his own 
efforts rather than family connections. Not like the pampered Imperial cronies 
on Earth, who never left their comfortable hearths and homes. None of *them* had 
ever set foot in a war zone, even though their battle plans cost the lives of 
thousands here on the border. They knew that Fleet Admiral Chakotay read the 
outsiders' orders, then forgot them. He fought, and won, on his own terms. In 
his mind, the lives of his people were always as important as any victory. 
Certainly more precious to him than the ruffled feathers of armchair warriors on 
Earth. And that made every single person under his command willing to follow him 
anywhere, even to the gates of hell.

Vice Admiral Gregor Ayala, master of the Enterprise and Chakotay's right-hand 
man, wandered the bridge as he reflected on the condition of the fleet. They'd 
been fighting the Dominion for over two years. The tide had turned and the 
Empire was again in control. Their victories now were many and decisive, their 
losses small and costly to their foes. The alliance of Cardassians, Romulans and 
other Alpha and Gamma Quadrant species was failing to hold secure even that 
handful of planets they still laid claim to.

The reflective man's head shook slowly as he considered his leader. Chakotay's 
method of closing the Bajoran wormhole had been inspired. The necessity of the 
action was obvious, as the portal's loss prevented enemy reinforcements from 
arriving or anyone from escaping. The 'great minds' on Earth had proposed 
specially designed torpedoes to destroy the phenomenon.

Chakotay, as usual, ignored that plan. First he wrested Bajor from the 
Dominion's hands. Then he'd piloted a shuttle into the wormhole himself to 
petition the entities within. He persuaded the Prophets he could not continue to 
protect their chosen people if their enemies kept pouring through the spatial 
conduit. Surprisingly, they agreed. From that day forth the Gamma Quadrant 
troubled the Empire no more. And Chakotay kept his promise to ensure Bajor's 
safety.

Ayala frowned as he reached the Tactical station. Lieutenant Tasha Yar was 
scrolling through the types of ships they were up against, checking that no 
weaknesses had been overlooked. The Gamma Quadrant technologies had been 
neutralized by the ingenuity of Imperial engineers, but they needed to guard 
themselves against former allies as well.

The Klingons' defection had been unanticipated. That collection of honor-mad 
warriors respected Chakotay. *He* was not the problem. Instead they had rebelled 
against the Empire itself, claiming that their less-than-equal citizenship was 
not worth the loss of vessels and lives defending Imperial holdings.

Chakotay had given them every chance to reconsider. Before every skirmish with 
the Dominion Fleet, he sent a small ship under a sign of truce. The unmanned 
buoy broadcast terms he would accept for their surrender. Ayala thought they 
were overly generous, but he knew that the Admiral valued peace and harmony and 
life, even that of his enemies.

Each earlier gesture had been met with torpedoes or phasers blazing. But not 
now. This time the drone still sat at the edge of sensor range, beaming its 
message on all channels. So they waited.

***************

The swish of a door opening straightened every spine on Voyager's bridge. The 
crew absently noted how well the black-and-red of the uniform suited the 
admiral's coloring. The burgundy button-down shirt, black vest and trousers of 
the Imperial Fleet were practical. They had plenty of pockets and holsters for 
equipment in case crewmembers needed to beam down to planets or were forced to 
fight hand-to-hand, yet the overall outfit retained its clean lines. The 
circular comm badge, a silver field behind a small replica of Earth, gleamed 
against the vest. Admiral Chakotay wore no rank insignia.

Chakotay shared a glance with Captain Cavit and walked to the Ops station, 
absently nodding to Ensign Mariah Henley. "Open a channel to the Enterprise."

Ayala's face appeared on the viewscreen.

"Have all vessels reported in?" Chakotay asked over his shoulder, studying 
Henley's screens.

"Yes sir," Ayala confirmed promptly. "The battle plans are in place, awaiting 
your signal."

The admiral moved to stand near Cavit, staring at the viewscreen. "Still 
nothing?"

"No," Ayala growled as his fists clenched in irritation. "A people should know 
when they're conquered."

"Would you?" Chakotay raised an eyebrow. "Would I?"

Ayala shrugged and the two veterans shared a brief look.

"Sir, there's a ship approaching the comm buoy." Ensign Henley automatically 
split the main screen and displayed the pertinent view of space.

A Klingon vessel stopped a few dozen meters from the communications device.

"I'm detecting a transport." Dalby reported from Tactical, then gasped. "It's 
human---they're beaming him *outside* the drone!"

The bridge crews watched in horror as the unidentified body flailed a moment, 
then went still. More ships began to appear behind the Klingon vessel, forming a 
solid line across the stars.

"That looks like everything they have," Cavit said. "It's a last stand."

"So they won't be accepting my offer." Chakotay's voice was quiet. "Any word 
from them at all?"

"No, sir," Henley replied.

"Open a channel, fleet wide." Chakotay paused a moment, then spoke. "Our offer 
of peace has been rejected. I know you are all tired. Of fighting, of conflict, 
of being far from the ones you love. But I ask for your help one last time. To 
defend all of our homes, our families. With strength and honor, we will 
prevail." He gestured and Henley switched back to the private link.

"Strength and honor," Ayala murmured on the viewscreen, no doubt echoed on every 
vessel in the fleet.

"You know the plan, Greg. Wait for my signal, then unleash hell." Chakotay's 
order was firm, but he spoke friend to friend.

"Aye, sir." Greg gave his commander a hint of a smile. "Good luck. Enterprise 
out."

The screen shifted to a view of the battlefield. Chakotay took a deep breath, 
staring at the lifeless body drifting in space. Then he looked to Cavit and 
received a nod of readiness.

"Mr. Dalby, raise shields and ready weapons," Chakotay ordered. His right hand 
unconsciously raised to touch his chest. In that spot, hidden beneath his shirt, 
a handful of Dorvan soil was slung around his neck in a tiny sack. It was a 
gesture familiar to everyone, and the bridge crew tensed in response. "Henley, 
broadcast to all ships: 'Battle fleet engage'."

***************

Emperor Jean-Luc Picard watched the Imperial Fleet scatter on the viewscreen of 
the Phoenix. Five ships remained, including his own and the Enterprise. His eyes 
sought Voyager, pondering again Chakotay's longstanding practice of randomly 
choosing a different ship to accompany each time he went into battle. If nothing 
else, it prevented his enemies from gunning for him effectively. Picard tracked 
the gleaming shape for a few moments, then lost sight of the vessel carrying the 
head of his military forces as it surged into the conflict against the 
collection of Dominion ships. He sighed.

"Do you need anything, sire?" Wil Riker, Captain of the Phoenix, looked to the 
slender man who alone ruled all of the Terran Empire. He absently noted the 
lines of weariness marking the chiseled features that seemed older than their 
years. He instinctively stood to approach, but halted when purple-shirted 
members of the Imperial Guard stepped closer to the Emperor, hands on their 
phaser rifles.

"Thank you, but no." Jean-Luc offered a small, appreciative smile, then turned 
to the viewscreen once more. "Do you approve of the admiral's plan?"

"It's ambitious, but if it succeeds he'll secure all of our borders from 
Dominion incursion." Riker grinned. "Do you wish you were out there leading the 
troops?"

"I'm wise enough to know when to delegate," Picard chuckled dryly. Everyone on 
the bridge ignored the fact that the Emperor's increasing frailty prevented him 
from doing anything else. "Any sign of the Mercury?"

"No, sire, but the ship carrying your son isn't scheduled to arrive for several 
hours."

"Good." The Emperor turned back to the viewscreen that was now lit with phaser 
beams and exploding ships. "Hopefully by then this will all be over."

***************

Voyager darted through its opponents like a greyhound, sharp turns bringing it 
out of harm's way while its armaments spat fire at the Dominion ships it passed. 
Shields were holding and the crew was shaken but uninjured.

Chakotay's eyes were glued to his screen as he shouted out course changes, 
plotting their path through the enemy forces. He had commandeered a corner of 
Tactical, preferring not to bump Cavit from the command chair. The marker buoy 
remained a still blue blip in the center of the schematic. Imperial ships in 
green danced with Dominion red as the fleets mixed together.

"We've reached the outer edge, sir," Cavit called out. "No enemy vessels ahead 
or engaging at the moment."

"I count six ships with us." Chakotay's voice held an undercurrent of pride in 
his people. He called to the helm, "Turn us around, prepare to engage any ships 
looking to jump to warp. Open a channel to our partners."

At Henley's nod he said, "Stay with me and hold the line. Make this our last 
battlefield. Let no one escape." He signaled the end of his message.

Then he looked at Dalby. "Light it up. Give the signal."

Dalby's hand was steady as he pushed the button. All eyes turned to the 
viewscreen, where Henley had again displayed the marker buoy. Its position still 
marked the center of battle. Panels opened as tiny drones swarmed out like 
locust. The dark objects seemed to pause a moment, orienting themselves, then 
sped off toward the enemy ships.

***************

The Enterprise's viewscreen was filled with the image of the rapidly emptying 
buoy. One small group of machines split off to land on a nearby Klingon vessel, 
creating a shadow against its bronze-colored hull. Yar hurriedly glanced at her 
readings. "Contact confirmed. Links in place." She looked toward her captain. 
"We have the signal, sir."

"Take us in," Ayala said, leaning forward eagerly.

The Imperial flagship swooped through the battlefield, following the stream of 
objects. Each time an enemy ship was latched onto by the small black invaders, 
the Enterprise would approach, a strange blue beam shooting from its deflector 
as its conventional weapons fired on any other Dominion vessels that approached 
to give aid. One by one, lights winked out on the targeted enemy ship. When it 
was dark and drifting, the Enterprise would move on to its next quarry while 
smaller Imperial vessels took control of each disabled ship.

***************

"This cannot be happening!" Gul Dukat shouted as he backhanded the poor soul at 
Ops aboard his ship, the DarkStar. He pored over the schematic, watching in 
disbelief as ship after ship in the Dominion Alliance faded as they registered 
as no longer battle-worthy.

"You swore that by banding together into one force we could overcome the humans. 
Yet they are conquering our vessels with ease." General Martok's growl made even 
his own men back away slightly from the furious Klingon.

A sudden rocking of phaser fire caused everyone to stagger or grab some support.

"What *are* those things?" That question came from a female Founder, who was 
staring at the viewscreen's display of dying ships. "How are they neutralizing 
our power sources?"

"The objects are some kind of construct that can join to form a more complex 
machine." This cool answer came from a Romulan at the science station. "They 
apparently latch on to a ship's hull and work together to create a dampening 
field. It's strong enough to shut down a warp core." He looked up. "We won't 
even be able to employ our plan of last resort, to release antimatter into this 
area of space."

"If we could not have victory, we were determined to have revenge. This entire 
region would have been uninhabitable for centuries." Martok cuffed the 
Cardassian at the helm and met his angry stare with a deadly one of his own. 
"Set a course out of the war zone before those leeches find us."

"Belay that." Gul Dukat's neck ridges were stiffened with anger. "You do not 
give the orders here, Klingon. *I* do."

Martok strode up to his erstwhile ally and glared into the cold eyes. "Then give 
the order. To every vessel still able to run. All we will taste this day is 
defeat. And if we are not swift and careful, Imperial prison rations."

Dukat pushed the Klingon out of his way and strode to his command chair. "Do 
it," he snapped.

The Cardassian pilot nodded and the DarkStar began making its way to the edges 
of the battle, trying to avoid the small machines that had managed to destroy 
all of their plans. As the viewscreen cleared of phaser fire, the image of a 
smaller but still powerful ship hove into view: Voyager.

"Ah," Dukat breathed, "It looks like we will claim at least one prize before our 
time is done." His eyes began to glitter with anticipation. "Ready the weapons."

Martok cursed his fate. He should never have agreed to remain on the flagship, 
away from his own troops. He knew at this moment he would die without honor---
unless they could secure this one small victory amidst the overwhelming defeat. 
"Also ready the self-destruct sequence. We have managed to stay clear of the 
Empire's neutralizers. At the very least we can make this---what do the humans 
call it?---a Pyrrhic victory."

The Romulan opened his mouth to protest, then snapped it shut with a shake of 
his head. All eyes returned to the viewscreen and the rapidly growing image of 
Voyager.

***************

"Five enemy vessels still active. The drones are leaving the captured ships as 
soon as the warp cores are shut down, but they won't catch up to them." Dalby's 
voice reflected the discipline of training and experience.

"Our partners are moving to intercept and engaging, sir. One Cardassian vessel 
is heading right for us." Henley looked at the viewscreen as if to confirm the 
readings on her console.

"Fire at will, Mr. Dalby. We want that ship dead in space." Cavit jumped up to 
take a few restless steps.

"Keep a close eye on their power levels, Henley." Chakotay's order was quiet. 
"Shout if there's any sign they're releasing anti-matter or trying to breach 
their warp core. Warn the others to do the same with their targets."

************************************************************

The combat between the DarkStar and Voyager resembled an ancient dogfight. They 
swirled around each other, separating and drawing in. Firing at close range, 
each trying to overload their enemy's shields. Cavit was careful to keep 
crossing the Cardassian's path so it couldn't jump to warp. Each subsequent pass 
got more dangerous as the vessels moved near enough to scrape shields.

The half-hour of fierce fighting left things not so cool or calm on Voyager's 
bridge as sparks and smoke clouded the air. Inertial dampers struggled to 
compensate for the sharp turns, and everyone did their jobs with one hand on 
their seat or console.

"Damn it, I want that ship destroyed *now*!" Cavit's shout expressed the tension 
that gripped the crew. They couldn't let this one get away.

"Sir, they're altering course," Henley's voice was a little scratchy from the 
smoke. "It looks like they're heading back into the battle, putting some space 
between us."

"Stay alert," Chakotay said, eyes narrowed as he watched the strange actions of 
their target. "I don't think they're going to give up that easily."

***************

The DarkStar's bridge was dark red with emergency lighting. Coolant leaked from 
ruptured conduits and many of the consoles were dark or filled with the static 
of destroyed sensors. They'd managed to punch through Voyager's shields once or 
twice, but otherwise their efforts to destroy the Imperial ship were fruitless.

"We're finished. Admit it." Martok's shoulders were slumped in defeat. 
Apparently it was indeed a good day to die, but a humiliating way to meet his 
end. As the pawn of his allies rather than master of his own fate.

"Perhaps. But I *will* take at least one of them with me." Dukat gripped the 
arms of his command chair and leaned forward. "Set a new course---we're going to 
ram them." He began punching buttons. "I'm also setting the warp core to 
overload while we still can."

***************

"I'm detecting an energy surge on the Cardassian vessel," Henley's calm 
statement belied her sweating face and tense fingers. "I think they're trying to 
cause a breach."

Dalby's shocked voice overrode his crewmate's. "Reading a new course, sir. 
They're coming right for us!" All eyes immediately turned to the viewscreen. The 
image of the Cardassian vessel was still fairly small but growing quickly.

"Evasive maneuvers," Cavit ordered.

"Belay that!" Chakotay snapped. "If we don't stop them they'll poison space for 
parsecs. Helm, set a course to meet them." He looked at Dalby. "Fire everything 
you've got. It's now or never."

The two ships sped toward each other in a cosmic dare, lances and bursts of 
energy preceding them.

"We've got to pull away, now!" Cavit shot a desperate look at his CO.

"Stay on course," was Chakotay's grim reply. "We'll either blow them up or smash 
them to bits, but that Cardassian warp core *will* be shut down."

***************

On board the DarkStar, only the Tactical officer moved as he continued to fire 
on the enemy vessel. Everyone else watched the screen, awaiting their fate, 
hoping the warp core overloaded before they were blown to atoms.

They were disappointed. The fiery ball of a photon torpedo grew and grew until 
it filled the screen. Voyager was close behind it. There was a burst of light 
and a flash of superheated gases, and the Dominion was gone.

Voyager sailed triumphant through the still flaming debris, rejoining its 
comrades as the last pockets of resistance were vanquished.

In the vast darkness of space, all was peaceful at last.

TBC