Subject: Grail: Great Brightness - The Denkirk Massacre

Three members of Omega Company sat in the Ten-Forward Lounge, drinking beers and watching the Great Brightness flashing by in the forward windows. Private Vanik Lavon, a Bajoran, had his feet propped up on the table. Next to him sat Private Joe Granger and Lance Corporal Steven Sherman. The trio had grown bored with their card game and were running out of drinking stories to tell each other.

Joe suddenly smiled and nudged Vanik with his elbow. "So, Vanik, how's it to have another notched nose in the Company? You was probably gettin' bored of all us smoothies."

Vanik laughed and nodded emphatically. "Hell, yeah. It's about time Omega Company got another Bajoran ass-kicker. I was getting tired of pulling the weight for all you Terrans."

Steve took a long pull from his mug and wiped the foam off his lips with the back of his sleeve. He paused thoughtfully, then belched. "Well, the proof is in the pudding. I'll reserve judgement on Lt. J'hon Roak until I see him in action."

Vanik frowned. "Granger, you don't know what you're talking about. First of all, it's Roak J'hon, Bajoran's go by their last name first, you numbskull. Secondly, we aren't talking about some Academy blow-hard, this is THE Roak J'hon. Aka The Denkirk Devil!"

Steve shrugged. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

Joe broke into the conversation. "Wait, so you mean to tell me you knew the el-tee from before?"

"I knew of him. And so should've our friend here, Steve the sniper. Roak is the patron saint of shooters. Do you mean to tell me you've never heard of the Denkirk Devil? The dead-eye of Bajor?"

Steven sat up and took notice. "Hey!" he muttered defensively, "I don't keep tabs on every two-bit triggerman who makes a name for himself on every backwater planet in the quadrant. Do you know his head count?"

"No, but I'm guessing it's in the low hundreds."

Joe and Steve looked at each other, then started laughing uproariously. Vanik scowled and went back to his beer.

After several moments, Steve calmed down and wiped the tears from his eyes. "Get real, Vanik. That's the beer talking. What do you really know about this guy?"

Vanik angrily ignored him and looked out the window.

Joe nudged him again. "Aw, come on, Pal. Don't give us that pouty face. Give us the scoop. No more laughing. I promise."

Vanik looked at his companions and sighed. "I know you two barbarians won't believe it, but I'll tell you about an incident that occurred during the Cardassian occupation several years ago."

Joe winked at Steve and they both settled back for a good story.

The Bajoran got a distant look in his eye as he began. "I heard about the incident a week after it happened. As you know, I was a courier for the Resistance, and often heard bits and pieces of information that the Cardassians tried to suppress. It happened near the end of the occupation, and was called the Denkirk Massacre by the Cardies. From what I understand, the entire town of Denkirk was razed out of retaliation after this ambush happened. Apparently, a company-sized patrol was . . ."

***Denkirk, Bajor, 2369***

The Cardassian patrol paused at the edge of the field. Patrol Leader Verdak scanned the nearby forest with his thermal goggles. No sign of life. It was starting to get dark, and the patrol was getting restless to get back to the firebase. After a long day of chasing non-existent guerillas across the countryside, the troopers were getting anxious to return to a hot meal and warm beds filled with female Bajoran "loyalists."

A barren field, created by repeated Cardassian carpet bombings several months ago, lay between the patrol and its final destination. The terrain, although rough, would provide little cover against a skillful sniper. However, skirting around the expansive, open area would take at least an hour. Normally, the patrol leader would have taken the safer route, but the Denkirk Devil was reportedly working another sector and hence, would be little threat to his unit this night.

Verdak glanced at his men. "Let's move!"

The patrol started across the field, spreading out in a wedge-shaped formation. They moved quickly, and the wedge gave them a broad firing lane, allowing them to bring overwhelming firepower to bear against any sudden threats. Verdak set a brisk pace, intent on covering the open ground as quickly as possible.

They were midway across the field when a loud crack echoed off the distant trees. The point man, next to Verdak, jerked once, then tumbled to the ground, the top portion of his head sheared off. The war-hardened patrol instantly fell to the ground, having recognized the hypersonic boom of a sniper's rail gun. They returned fire into the tree line, blasting their unseen attacker with a barrage of disruptor fire. The heavy weapons specialists lobbed dozens of pulse grenades into the woods, blowing ugly gouges out of the scenic countryside.

Despite the sheer volume of firepower, every few moments they could hear a solitary CRACK! punctuate the thrumming sound of their disruptor rifles, and another Cardassian would slump to the ground. The communications specialist was shouting into his headset, demanding an airstrike, while nearby, a trooper was laying on his back in a pool of blood, screaming up at the night sky before his lungs started filling with fluid, choking off his anguished cries.

Verdak quickly took stock of the situation. He had lost six men in the space of thirty seconds. It was obvious his unit would get butchered if they didn't start moving. He toggled his headset, "We've got to reach cover! All fire teams head north! GO!"

The dozen remaining troopers rose as one and began sprinting towards safety. One by one they would suddenly jerk and tumble to the ground, victims of their deadly attacker. They continued to fire in every direction, although it was virtually impossible to tell what direction the sniper was located because of the way the sonic booms echoed off the tree lines. Verdak suddenly noticed the sniper's victims were being knocked backwards. They were running straight into the kill zone!

"Take cover!" Verdak screamed. The remaining Cardassians dove to the ground, hunkered down in a shallow indentation. They didn't even bother to return fire, it only served to expose themselves to the accurate rail gun. Furthermore, for all they knew, the sniper could still be out of disruptor range.

The patrol, at less than half of its original number, looked in desperation to its leader for guidance. Vertak cursed to himself before speaking into his headset. "Red Leader to Red Base, come in, over."

A maddeningly calm voice answered. "This is Red Base, go ahead, Red Leader."

"Where in Dukat's name is my air support?!" he screamed at the voice.

"Red Leader, we are vectoring strike aircraft to your position, ETA fifteen minutes, over."

"Fifteen minutes?! What . . . are you scrambling them from Cardassia Prime?"

"Negative, Red Leader. The strike element is en route from putting down a food riot in the capital. They are making top speed to your position, over."

"We don't HAVE fifteen minutes! Red Leader, out!"

Vertak hugged the ground, nervously fingering the trigger of his rifle. Twilight had finally fallen, shrouding the landscape in darkness and providing even more places for a sniper to hide. The local birds had fallen silent long ago, waiting expectantly for the resumption of fighting. The only sound Vertak could hear was the pounding of his own heart, and the nervous cough of a nearby trooper.

Five minutes passed. The last remaining heavy weapons specialist shifted slightly so he could move the uncomfortable grenade launcher he was laying on. His head suddenly snapped back with a violent jerk. A moment later came the sonic boom. The survivors didn't even twitch.

Another five minutes passed. Suddenly overhead, a pair of Cardassian ground-support fighters roared by, their impulse engines burning across the night sky.

"Strike Leader to Red Leader, over."

"This is Red Leader. Am I happy to see you. We have a sniper somewhere in Sector 1184-A. Be advised we are located in Sector 1184-B, over."

"Understood, Red Leader. I've got you on my scanners. Sit tight. Strike Leader, out."

The aircraft made a lazy turn and headed toward the sniper's position. They strafed the area repeatedly with twin disruptor cannons and incendiary rockets. Within minutes, every living thing in the entire sector was either dead or aflame.

The Cardassian patrol cheered as they cautiously watched the airstrike from their secure position. The aircraft were making their final approach when one of the troopers disappeared in a fine mist of blood. Vertak spun around and realized the sniper had outflanked them, making their cover completely ineffective. Another shot rang out, claiming another life.

Doesn't this guy ever miss?! Vertak cynically thought to himself as he began screaming into his headset. "Strike Leader, the sniper is in Sector 1185-B! We're taking hits!"

One by one, the Cardassian patrol was picked apart as the strike aircraft hurried to change attack vectors. Suddenly, Vertak realized he was the last survivor of his eighteen man patrol. He keyed his headset. "Strike Leader, this is Red Leader. Promise me you'll get this bastard."

Vertak took a deep breath and stood upright. He dropped his rifle and spread his arms out to his sides. He leaned back his head and took a deep, cleansing breath. Then he died.

Lt. J'hon Roak