HAVE DOMINION

HAVE DOMINION

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About Artist

Nathan Warner was educated in the Planetary sciences with degrees in Geology and Geophysics.  Since then, he’s worked in engineering support and church ministry.  He’s a 3d-animator, graphic artist and designer, and an amateur artist with a love of God’s amazing creation.  In 2016, he sought a creative outlet to get “off-world”, and his childhood love of Star Trek, with its optimism, sense of duty and responsibility, exploration, and discovery was a natural allure.  He began by composing audio tracks to compete with city sounds; then, he turned to digital composite paintings that “beamed” him up for a little healthy escapism, as he hopes they do for you too.

“As a kid I always wondered how a Galaxy Class Saucer landed.  How exactly does a Borg Cube “excavate” an entire colony?  What would a new golden age of Starfleet exploration look like after the Dominion War?  As an amateur artist, I woke up one day realizing I had the ability to finally share these daydreams with other Trekkers and Sci-fi enthusiasts.  I make no claims of being an artist or of perfection, just sharing the dream!” 

Nathan Warner

Hey, everyone,

Here is my art for Friday:

“HAVE DOMINION”

All nature abhors a vacuum, Weyoun thought, gazing out over the known universe. And the wisdom of the Founders would fill it!
Have Dominion

The story I’ve written for the art is called:

NATURE ABHORS A VACUUM

All nature abhors a vacuum, Weyoun thought, gazing out over the
known universe. And the wisdom of the Founders would fill it!

He patted the console of the Dominion Battlecruiser beneath him.

Outside in space, the ship lazily considered the horizon of its
habitat. It was the sole apex predator of its realm, and it knew it. To an
outside observer, the ship embodied the attitude of the Founders – ruling
disinterested and secure over the heavens – like a lion that knows it has no
contender for its title of “King of the Jungle” or a shark cruising
disinterestedly through the sea.

Weyoun stared out through his eyepiece on the universe before them. Every star he could see would sooner or later be brought out of chaos and into order by the mighty Dominion. It was the way of things – as immutable as the laws that governed faster-than-light travel.

Yes, if there was one constant in existence, it was the will of
the Founders – and that term dominated all the other variables in the Galaxy.

Order was the Founders’ great export in their economy and
obedience the only acceptable import.

He looked down on the Jem’Hadar busying themselves at their posts – the model of perfect obedience – and then turned to his Vorta subordinate.

“Moyoun, how long till we reach the Kiran nebula?” he asked,
gesturing lazily towards the pink hues of a stellar cloud spread out before
them.

“2.573 days at present speed,” Moyoun answered. “Should I
increase velocity?”

“There is no rush,” Weyoun observed. “They aren’t going
anywhere.”

He was referring to the unrest on the Gorbin homeworld – their
current destination. Independence was on their tongues again. And to keep this
“disease” of rebellion from spreading, it had to be dealt a real disease to
keep it preoccupied. Many worlds had been judged this way.

Teplan and its Blight was one of the first examples that had
been made, but certainly not the last.

“Are the genetic weapons ready for deployment?” he asked. Moyoun
hesitated.

“We are still calibrating their parameters for maximum dispersal
and effectiveness in the Gorbin Stratosphere,” he replied. Weyoun sighed.

“Very well,” he replied.

Keeping the locals in line – it was a full-time business these
days. Weyoun could remember days of Dominion exploration – and of conquest that
brought him to untamed and unexplored worlds in desperate need of the Founder’s
guidance. Those were the days he missed the most.

But his feelings meant nothing – his life – his entire purpose
was to serve the Founders who had made him.

“Sir, long-range sensors have detected a number of isolated
verteron radiation surges,” Moyoun interrupted from his science station.

“A wormhole?” Weyoun asked. “Location?”

“Out past the Dosi homeworld.”

“In the wild,” Weyoun observed. “Just beyond the Founder’s
established order.”

He frowned – he hated all that was unpredictable and unreliable.
What was this phenomenon? Was it artificial? Was it stable?

Artificial wormholes existed for some ship propulsion – and he’d
heard rumors from the edges of the quadrant about an aggressive cybernetic
species that trespassed into resource rich worlds through wormhole-type
transportation. Weyoun took all rumors seriously.

“Sir, I’m reading it again,” Moyoun reported as his console lit
up.

“Location now?” Weyoung asked. Moyoun analyzed the data from the
sensors.

“It is from the same exact coordinates as before,” he said.

“So, it is stable!” Weyoun whispered. A stable wormhole meant
only one thing – someone was planning an invasion or an exodus from somewhere
into the Dominion’s backyard!

He tensed and strode across the massive bridge of the ship,
glancing through the bulkheads with his x-ray vision, straining his eyes to the
coordinates of the wormhole.

“Send a clandestine inter-spatial probe to keep observation on
this area.” He ordered. “I want a direct link to all the data it receives. We
will have to keep a close eye on this situation.” He turned for the door.

“If you need me,” he said importantly, “I will be speaking to
the Founders.”

Moyoun nodded and launched the inter-spatial probe. It flared
out from the ship and then accelerated out of sight into the blackness of
space.

At that moment, at the distant coordinates of the phenomenon, a
flash of light lit the region and a rippling cascade of blue energy revealed
the opening of a canal from beyond. Suddenly, a ship emerged through it, spat
up into the Gamma Quadrant. Without ceremony, the wormhole vanished behind it
in a flash. The ship listed – power failures flirting across its systems. It
was a Cardassian Galor!

On the Bridge, Gul Dukat sat showering in sparks.

“Report!” he bellowed, angered ever so slightly that Major Kira
may have been right in warning him against entering the mysterious phenomenon.

“Sir, the computer does not register our location!” the helmsman
exclaimed. Dukat considered him for a moment – Damar, wasn’t it? He was a good
officer, eager and loyal, but lacking in the essential deviousness that made a
Gul.

“What do you mean?” Dukat scoffed. “Check again.” Damar
reinitialized the sensors and then shook his head at their results.

“As I said, Sir, we are not in known space,” he said evenly.
Dukat rose from his seat and joined him at the console.

“How can that be?” he asked in disbelief. Suddenly, the sensors
lit up. A massive explosion of energy occurred behind them.

“What…was that?” Dukat asked slowly, dreading the answer.

“It appears…the wormhole has collapsed,” Damar replied uneasily
and then turned to his commander. “We may be stranded here.”

Dukat pounded the console as he struggled to keep his composure.
How was it that everything always seemed to go badly for him? When was destiny
going to recognize its duty to him? Fate owed him a suitable place for his
talents! He let his inner rage out through a quiet sigh.

“We’ll then,” he said, “we’ll just have to make the best of it!”

“Sir?” Damar asked confusedly. Dukat gestured to the smoking
consoles around them.

“Let’s get this ship back in order!” he said. “And then we’ll
see about conquering something for Cardassia!”

Unfortunately for Dukat’s ambitions, the ship proved beyond
repairing without a spacedock. Before thrusters had even been restored, a
powerful surge of energy lit behind them. The wormhole had reopened! Dukat
grasped at the hope. If only they could get the thrusters working, they could
reach it! Suddenly another ship appeared coming through the corridor of energy
– a Federation Runabout!

“Sir, we are being hailed!” Damar reported. Dukat took his seat
and leveled his senses.

“Onscreen,” he said composedly. In an instant, the face of the
new Federation Commander appeared. Dukat grasped for his name.

“Sisko?” he asked in disbelief. Sisko nodded, knowingly.

“Need a lift?” he asked with a wry smile. Dukat smiled back.

“That would be very gracious of you,” he said, gesturing around
him. “Nothing seems to be working around here.” Sisko nodded.

“I’m preparing to tractor you back through,” he said. “You’re
welcome to join me over here.”

“How gracious!” Dukat replied. “If you wouldn’t mind?”

“Let me establish the tractor hold on your ship and then I’ll
beam you over,” Sisko smiled and then he vanished from the screen.

“I like him,” Dukat said aloud in the silence that followed.
Damar looked up with surprise.

“The Federation Commander?” he asked, in a voice that seemed
shocked by a disloyalty to Cardassia.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, Damar,” Dukat said slowly. “He is
dangerous – a worthy adversary – perhaps also an ally. I feel fate is winding
us up together…somehow. Mark my words, great things are going to happen between
us.”

At that moment, they all felt the tug on the ship as the Runabout gripped the Galor, pulling it back the way it had come. In a cascading flash of light, the ships vanished from the Gamma Quadrant, on their way back towards home, completely ignorant of the contest that had just been put into motion – one that would forever change the Alpha Quadrant, for better and for worse.

To see more of my art and read more Star Trek stories, visit my
website: www.blabberdock.com

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