Title: Star Trek-Infinity: Dancing With the Devil(MISC) 
Author: Charles Rando (trando@worldnet.att.net) 
Series: MISC 
Rating: [PG] 
Part: NEW 1/3 
Disclaimer: Paramount owns the characters in The Next Generation and Deep Space Nine, and Peter David owns the Selelvian race (see his book, Strike Zone). I'd like to think that the characters I've invented and the story are mine. :-) 
Summary: He's the former prefect of Terok Nor... a bane to Captain Benjamin Sisko, the devil as far as the Bajorans are concerned, and now a terrorist in the eyes of the Klingons. But when a Federation freightor goes missing and Ensign Marit has to find it, Gul Dukat may be Marit's only hope.... 

CHAPTER ONE
The Badlands.
A large corridor of plasma storms and other various hazards that made traveling within it extremely dangerous. For a few years, it had served as the perfect makeshift base for the Maquis... its location on the borders of both the Cardassian empire and the Federation was ideal, and a ship larger than a fighter would not have much of a chance of surviving the storms.
Even the pilot of the small Federation shuttle was having problems navigating the storms.
Ensign Marit Kynten cursed her bad luck again. Under normal situations, she wouldn't have minded the opportunity to get off the Infinity and show off her piloting abilities. She would've been enjoying herself more now... if it weren't for the simple fact that a simple miscalculation could result in her destruction. She checked her instruments again... she was almost right on top of the source of the distress call... what looked like a nearby asteroid. But in all this mess, she couldn't see a single thing except for the brilliant reds and oranges of exploding plasma.
A burst of plasma exploded off her starboard side... a little too close for comfort. Luckily, it hadn't been a direct hit, and she could continue searching for the Federation transport vessel she had gone after in the first place.
And then the shuttle shut itself down. She was completely and totally adrift... not the best way to travel through the Badlands.
Marit cursed again. Why had she volunteered to go on this mission alone? Because she hadn't wanted to endanger anyone else in the storms... that had been her answer before she had left the Infinity. Her plan had been to fly into the Badlands, find the lost transport vessel, and pilot it back out of the storms. It had sounded easy enough, and Captain Rando had let her go. Now she was stuck here too... alone.
Ensign Marit looked up. She saw the Klingon Bird of Prey decloak on the shuttle's viewscreen. She swore in Bajoran.
And then she was beamed away.
The next thing Marit knew, she was in a transporter room... a Klingon transporter room. She would have recognized the poor lighting and dank smell anywhere. But the face behind the transporter controls was not a Klingon one... it was Cardassian. 
"Bajoran," it sneered at her.
Marit instinctually raised her hand to her nose... yes, the ridges were still there. And her earring was still clamped firmly to her right ear... "Why it appears you're right," she replied, with a hint of sarcasm she reserved for anyone who made such obvious statements about her heritage. "I am Bajoran. Ensign Marit Kynten of the starship Infinity. Now you, if I remember my Alien Cultures 101 course at the Academy, are Cardassian. But this ship... isn't Cardassian, is it?"
The Cardassian glared at her. Even though the Cardassian empire had new enemies to fight in their war against the Klingons, it seemed that old hatreds died hard. "The Gul wishes to speak with you," the Cardassian told her. "Come with me."
Marit watched the man with amusement. She could tell by his attitude that he half expected her to fight him somehow, and the look of surprise on his face when she cooperated fully was priceless. "Please," she told him. "Lead the way."
******************************************************
Captain's log-Stardate 49723.6: It's been two hours now, and there's still no response from Ensign Marit or the Federation freighter... and the time that Marit asked me to give her is running out. In another hour, I'll have to send another team into the Badlands to search for the freighter... and possibly our missing pilot. I'm not sure what frightens me more... the idea that something could have happened to Ensign Marit and that's why she's not contacting us, or that when she comes back, she'll be upset that I didn't give her the three hours I had originally promised her.
Rando approached the front of the bridge, resting his hand on Lieutenant Johnson's chair. "Anything?"
Johnson shook his head after a precursory check of his OPS panel. "Nothing, sir. We're still picking up the distress signal... which means the freighter crew is still with us... but it also means that Ensign Marit hasn't found them yet."
"Captain," came the voice of Lieutenant Remley, "let me take another shuttle in there. Something's wrong... I can smell it."
Rando sighed and headed back for his command chair, where he sat uncomfortably. He had a duty to perform... but so did Ensign Marit. And didn't he have to trust that she would perform her duty to the best of her abilities? But if something had happened to Marit... the freighter crew would still be helpless... and so would she.
"Mr. Remley, how long did you say it would take to reach the coordinates of the distress signal?" Rando asked.
"About an hour," Remley replied, and then grinned. He knew what his Captain was up to.
"Take another shuttle, Mr. Remley. This time, though, I don't want it to be a one man operation. I want you to find the freighter, and Ensign Marit, and report back as soon as you can," Rando ordered.
"Aye sir!" Remley said with a grin. "Chris! Wanna come with me?"
Lieutenant Johnson swiveled around in his chair to face the Captain. "Sir?"
Rando nodded briskly, and Johnson proceeded to the rear of the bridge to join Remley. "And take Commander Neddek with you... just in case. Be careful... all of you. I don't want to have to send another shuttle in after you."
Remley nodded. "You won't have to, sir." He and Johnson stepped onto the turbolift. "Shuttlebay one!"
******************************************************
"Enter!"
The Cardassian soldier that had led Marit up from the transporter room glanced at her... almost as if he was wondering why she hadn't heeded the order the second she had heard it. Marit couldn't help but chuckle as she stepped through the doors, the Cardassian soldier right behind her.
"Ah, Damar!" the man behind the desk of this small office exclaimed. The dim lighting of the room made it hard to see, but Dukat did seem to notice her presence. "You've brought me a visitor! And a Starfleet one, at that!"
Marit recognized the other Cardassian in an instant. This face was one that Bajorans just didn't forget, even in the pale light. "Gul Dukat."
The Cardassian smiled, a slightly slimy expression. "So you know who I am! It would seem, then, that you have me at a disadvantage."
"Ensign Marit Kynten," the Bajoran replied. "U.S.S. Infinity."
"Ah!" Dukat said again. "Well, Ensign, if I may ask, what were you doing inside the Badlands? Not exactly the most popular tourist attraction these days...."
Marit nodded. "We received a distress call from a Federation freighter near these coordinates. They had lost themselves in the plasma storms and needed help."
"And you set off by your lonesome to save them!" Dukat exclaimed. Marit could sense that the Cardassian was obviously trying to be patronizing, but she honestly didn't care. She had more important matters to concern herself with.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. But my shuttle was trapped in a plasma burst and all my systems went off-line," Marit told him. "That's when you found me. Now, I don't suppose you'd like to tell me what you were doing in the Badlands?"
Dukat nodded at her. "We've towed your shuttle into our shuttlebay; you don't have to worry about it. Damar... if you would take Ensign... Kynten was it? down to the shuttlebay...."
"Marit, sir," came the response. It took Marit a second to realize that it hadn't come from her.
Dukat looked at his aid. "Excuse me?"
"She is Bajoran, sir," Damar replied. That seemed to be all the explanation needed.
"A Bajoran?" Dukat repeated, his eyes suddenly alive... and Marit had to admit to herself that she didn't really like the change. Apparently, the dim lighting in the room had prevented him from seeing her subtle Bajoran features. "Well then, by all means... this changes everything. Damar, get Tomal and his best engineers down to the shuttlebay. Begin working on her shuttle... she's our only hope of getting out of here." Damar nodded, glanced at the Bajoran woman whom he obviously did not like leaving alone with his Gul, and then left the office.
Marit shook her head. "Look, there's a shipload of people out there that need help... if you can scan for them or something... I'd really appreciate it. If I don't find them in another hour...."
"Your Captain will send out another team, won't he?" Dukat inquired. He stood and moved around his desk to approach her. "Well, there is no need for you to worry, Ensign Marit of the U.S.S. Infinity... you've found your missing freighter."
CHAPTER TWO
Ensign Marit stared back at the Cardassian, not entirely sure whether she should believe him or not. That's when Gul Dukat added, "You don't believe me, do you, Ensign?"
Marit shrugged. "To be completely honest, I'd like to see SOME proof first."
"My word isn't good enough for you?" the Cardassian asked. He almost sounded slightly hurt.
"To be honest again... no," Marit replied.
There was the briefest of pauses and then Dukat let out a hearty laugh. "Very good, Ensign Marit... as distrustful as you are, you would've made a fine Cardassian."
Any other Bajoran would've taken the compliment as a slap in the face, but Marit took it in stride and smirked. "Maybe in another life," she told Dukat. "Now, weren't you going to show me something?"
Dukat grinned at her wolfishly. "If you insist," he said. "My, my, you Bajoran women certainly ARE aggresive!" Then a look of fake realization appeared on his face. "Oh, I'm sorry! You wanted me to show you the proof that we are the 'Federation freighter' you're looking for... of course, of course! Please, come this way." He motioned for Marit to leave the way she'd come in, back to the Bird of Prey's bridge, and then followed close behind.
Seeing Cardassians on a Klingon bridge didn't feel right to Marit any more than it had the first time when she'd passed through the bridge on the way to Dukat's office. Although Marit had never actually been on a Klingon ship before, or a Cardassian ship for that matter, the tall, posture perfect and overly aesthetic Cardassians just didn't seem to fit on the cramped, grungy Klingon bridge. But why the Cardassians were there didn't really concern Marit that much... if they had been sending out a Federation distress call, and they actually needed help, it was her duty to provide assistance. If this was all an elaborate trap... well, she'd cross that bridge when she came to it. All together, she was far more relaxed than any other Bajoran in her position might have been... a fact that she knew did not go unnoticed by Gul Dukat.
"As you can see here," the Cardassian said, pointing at the read-out from the communications console, "we are broadcasting a standard Federation distress call. More to the point, we are broadcasting this...." He pressed a button, and a voice began to speak.
"This is the Federation freighter Kellman. We require assistance. We had a navigational error, and we are currently stuck in the Badlands. Please send help. This is the Federation freighter Kellman. We require...." Dukat pressed the button again, cutting off the recording.
"That was the distress call the Infinity picked up," Marit replied. "Of course, how do I know you didn't pick up that distress call too and are just playing it back for me?"
"Because," Dukat told her, "as these records indicate, we've been broadcasting this message for two days now. Most likely long before you and your starship arrived at the Badlands."
"That is true," Marit granted him, "but I'm still not convinced that the distress call we picked up came from your ship, or that there's no Federation freighter out there that needs assistance."
"Honestly, Ensign, your distrust of me is beginning to grow tiresome," Dukat said, but there was no condescension... no sarcasm. Not even the perverted sense of humor that had shown itself when Marit had reminded Dukat to "show me something." Instead, Dukat had a sense of urgency... with a hint of regret. "You require more proof, then? Allow me to escort you down to our cargobay."
Marit nodded and the two made their way below decks without another word. It was only after they had arrived in the Klingon ship's cargobay and Marit had seen what was there that Dukat spoke again.
"You see, Ensign, there is no Federation freighter named the Kellman requesting assistance," he said, indicating the various shapes of twisted metal that covered the cargobay floor. "At least," he added softly, "not anymore."
******************************************************
"You picking anything up, Neddy?"
Commander Neddek didn't answer right away. It was a few seconds before he replied, "Sensor readings are erratic, Lieutenant. I cannot get any readings over ten kilometers away."
Whereas another officer might have been disappointed by the answer, Remley took it in stride. "Then it'll take us a little longer," he said, and then stretched. "At least I get to spend this time sitting down instead of standing all shift at tactical."
Neddek raised an eyebrow while he continued to look over the scan results. "Just do not allow yourself to become... complacent, Lieutenant," the Vulcan chief engineer said.
"Oh come on, Neddy... have you ever known me to be 'complacent?'" Remley asked, turning around in his chair and grinning widely at the Vulcan.
"Indeed," Neddek replied after a second, "I do not believe so. Although as our encounter with the Borg a few months ago proved, even you can be taken by surprise."
"'Taken by surprise,' yes," Remley agreed, "'complacent,' no. Even being assimilated into the collective couldn't make me stop fighting... and here I am, as good as before."
"Then you believe that you will prevail in any situation you are placed in?" Neddek inquired. "Such blind faith might disappoint you someday... logically."
"I don't try to understand it, Neddy," Remley said, turning back to check his instruments. "All I know is, if I keep on fighting, I come out on top. I've survived a nuclear explosion, assimilation, various torture chambers, various exploding shuttles, multiple universes... even a court-martial... two, if I count yours. Logical or not... it just seems to work out."
"Ripples," Lieutenant Johnson suddenly said. It was the first word he'd uttered in almost ten minutes.
Neddek seemed to consider this new piece of information. "I do not see how that in anyway connects to the previous conversation," he finally said.
"It's not supposed to," Johnson told him. He spun around in his chair and began to access the sensor controls. "I don't even know what the previous conversation was about... what I DO know, however, is a way to track Ensign Marit's shuttle... and maybe even the missing freighter."
Remley simply grinned, amazed at Johnson's ingenuity once again, and Neddek asked, "Indeed?"
"It should be simple enough... just like sailing in water, a ship passing through plasma should produce waves. As time went on, they'd get smaller and smaller... but I think I should be able to come up with a path to follow... there!" He brought up a picture of their immediate area of the Badlands with a line running through it. "Something followed this path just an hour ago... I traced the waves in this area back to it... it's a start."
"And it's more to go on than we have right now," Remley said. He glanced at Neddek, who nodded. "All right, let's give it a shot."
Johnson nodded as well, and began to input the course into the shuttle's computers.
CHAPTER THREE
"Please," Marit said, her voice only slightly louder than a whisper. "Tell me you didn't do this."
"I can tell you that with complete honesty," Dukat replied softly. "In fact, if we'd arrived ten minutes earlier, we might have prevented it." Marit looked at him questioningly, and the Cardassian continued. "I'm surprised you haven't asked why a Klingon Bird-of-Prey is being crewed by Cardassians."
"The thought had crossed my mind," Marit replied. She could feel her stomach begin to churn as anger set in. Anger towards whoever had done... this... to the Kellman. That Dukat seemed to be dragging out his story aggravated her more, but she controlled herself as best she could. She needed information from this man, and she could tell she wasn't going to get it by snapping at him to get to the point.
"A few months ago, I commandeered this vessel," Dukat told her. "It was a glorious victory for Cardassia... after months and months of losing territory, ships and men... we had claimed a great victory. Can you imagine what a Klingon ship controlled by Cardassians could do? Infiltrate Klingon space... lull other ships into a false sense of security and then blast them into the depths of hell!" On the last word, his eyes seemed to burn with an inner fire of their own and he had clenched his fist in front of Marit's face. Quickly, he noticed the fist and relaxed it, stepping away from the Bajoran woman at the same time.
"Unfortunately, the Detapa Council did not want to aggravate the situation with the Klingons. They wanted a peaceful resolution to the war... I disagreed. The only way you can convince Klingons to stop attacking you and attacking you is to beat them into submission! So I took this ship, against the orders of the so-called Cardassian government, and I began to strike back for all the sons and daughters of Cardassia that the Klingons had taken from us!" Yet again Dukat's speech had become impassioned, and he had to take a breath to calm himself before he continued. 
"Two days ago, we entered the Badlands to begin some much needed repairs. Our last target had been a bit more... feisty than we had anticipated. They actually managed to get in some decent shots before we destroyed them. And that's when we ran across your Federation freighter... and a friend of theirs. The plasma in this section of the Badlands is so thick that sensors are useless over ten kilometers away... before we knew it, we saw a Klingon ship firing on a freighter. We tried to help the freighter... we tried to fight back, but our shields were too weak... our weapons weren't up to full strength.... Eventually, they got in one good blast and disabled our impulse engines. We cloaked the ship and moved away a short distance on thrusters, and after a quick search for us, the Klingons went back and destroyed the Kellman. There were no survivors... only debris. And now we are stuck in these plasma storms... there is a Klingon ship out there somewhere looking for us... and all we have is our cloak. That's why we sent out the distress call."
"And by using the distress call from the Kellman, you could fool the Klingons into thinking that the signal had gone off automatically when the ship was attacked... they wouldn't even bother to come back and check on it," Marit finished, realization dawning.
"Exactly," Dukat told her. "We've tried to salvage materials from the Kellman for our repairs, but for some reason, Klingon and Federation technology don't seem to agree with one another. It's almost symbolic of your alliance with them." He paused, and his attention seemed to waiver. "Years ago, I would have suggested that an alliance with the Cardassian Empire would have... yielded more positive returns. Now..." He shook his head. "Now we must focus on the present. I believe we can use the materials we've scavenged from the Kellman to repair your shuttle. Once that is complete, you can return to your ship for assistance and help my ship out of the Badlands."
Marit couldn't help but smirk slightly at the man. "You'd actually trust a lowly Bajoran to help you?" she asked, although her heart wasn't in it. It almost felt like the what the typical Bajoran would've said in her situation... except the typical Bajoran wasn't here.
"Yes, Ensign," Dukat replied easily. "You are, after all, our one hope of making it out of these plasma storms anytime soon. And, by the same token, we are your only hope of returning to your ship. We need each other, I would say..." He paused to look her over. "And to be honest with you yet again, for some reason you don't seem to be a... typical Bajoran."
Marit couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that. She'd never heard any rumors of Cardassians being telepathic... must've been a fluke. "Well then," she said, "why don't you take me to your shuttlebay so I can take a look at my shuttle... and then we can see about getting out of here."
Dukat flashed her a toothy grin and motioned again with his arm to lead her out of the cargobay.
******************************************************
"I'm not entirely sure... but I think we're catching up to whatever we're following," Lieutenant Johnson said.
Beside him, in the pilot's seat, Lieutenant Remley nodded. "I've had that feeling for almost five minutes now... the feeling that I can't shake, though, is that we're not on Marit's trail."
"I don't know, Evan," Johnson said. "Chances are, we've either found Marit's wake or the Kellman's... any maybe once we find one, we'll find the other there too." He checked his instruments again to insure that they hadn't deviated from the proper flight path. "I mean honestly, how many ships can be out here? This isn't exactly the Saturn run, you know."
"Lieutenant Johnson has a point," Neddek added from one of the rear consoles. "Logically, the Badlands would be an area of space to avoid... however, the only conclusion I would care to make from that logic is that one wouldn't find many Vulcans in these plasma storms."
"He's right, Chris... the Maquis, the Cardassians, the Klingons... they've all used the Badlands at one time or another," Remley said. "I just hope we're not following a path left by one of their ships."
Johnson nodded silently. The truth was, all they had was a path to follow. They didn't know who made it, and they didn't know if whoever made it would be particularly pleased that they were being followed. "The amplitude of the waves is definitely increasing... almost at an exponential rate," Johnson reported a few seconds later. "Whatever we've been following... we're almost right on top of it." 
That's when the proximity alarms went off.
"Complete stop!" Remley called out as the shuttle stopped dead in its tracks. 
"What the hell was that?" Johnson demanded, staring at the shuttle's viewscreen. "There's nothing out there but plasma!"
And that's when the Klingon Bird of Prey decloaked... and the shuttle was nose to nose with it.
"You had to ask, didn't you, Chris?" Remley said, not taking his eyes off the massive ship. "You just had to ask. Full reverse!"
The tiny shuttle shook as it plowed backwards through the plasma of the Badlands. Out in open space, there might have been enough room to maneuver for the shuttle to make a good run for it... but this wasn't open space.
"The Klingon ship is firing on us," Neddek reported a second before the burst rocked the shuttle. "Shields are down to 79%."
"After one hit?" Johnson asked. "Man, they're not messing around."
"Klingons rarely do," Remley replied. "They want to play with fire? Fine, let's play with fire."
Remley targeted the shuttle's phasers for a short burst directly beneath the Bird of Prey. The burst of energy would hopefully ignite the plasma, and do the Klingon ship some real damage. Unfortunately, he never got the chance to fire. The shuttle rocked again as another barrage hit it.
"Shields down to 48%," Neddek announced. "Weapons are off-line."
"Why is it the most important systems go off-line first?" Remley demanded. "The next thing you know, these consoles will be exploding all around us!" He flinched slightly as the console to his left sparked slightly. "All right, we've got to make a run for it... Chris, do whatever you can... use your imagination and get us away from these guys."
Johnson nodded and began tapping in commands... and the Klingon ship began to fire again. Another barrage later, the shuttle's shields were down, and the Bird of Prey had activated its tractor beam.
"We're being pulled into the Klingon ship," Neddek told them, checking his instruments.
Remley could only look at the Vulcan and say, "For once, couldn't you report some good news?"
"When some occurs, you will be the first to know," Neddek replied.
They was hardly any conversation for the rest of the journey. The shuttle was dragged into a small bay, and instantly there was the sound of disruptor fire at the door. Shortly thereafter, the shuttle's hatch opened and an army of Klingons stormed the ship.
"Do not move," the lead Klingon ordered them, and then with a grin he added, "The Commander will be proud... we've taken three Starfleet prisoners of war."
Remley, Johnson and Neddek were easily disarmed and then led off the shuttle and into the depths of the Klingon ship.