The first moment of consciousness flared painfully behind Weyoun's eyes and slowly, deliberately, he pushed himself up from where he had been sprawled across the dull colored deck of the Jem'hadar fighter. The pain in his right hip was nauseating and intensified as the Vorta grasped the chair mounted in the middle of the bridge. It was the only chair present; Jem'hadar didn't require a place to sit while they worked at their stations, Vorta preferred comfort. Fighting off the feeling of light headedness, Weyoun surveyed the damage around him as the ship trembled under the ribbons of energy in the wormhole.

"Of all the times," the Vorta rasped out and didn't even spare himself a sigh of relief when he was able to sit in the chair. His Jem'hadar warriors were sprawled over the floor and work stations, unconscious, or so he hoped. He didn't want to arrive in the Alpha Quadrant with a ship of dead Jem'hadar as his second impression of peace from the Dominion. With renewed strength, Weyoun attempted to stand but one sharp cry later and he collapsed against the chair. Gulping and with his hair askew, he fought down the acidy bile that threatened him as he slowly started to lose the fight against the pain in his hip.

Weyoun spotted some piece of Jem'hadar uniform that must've torn from one of the warriors. Without much thought, he strained and picked it up before haphazardly aiming and throwing it at his First. While he was pleased that he actually managed to hit the warrior, the act was for nothing. First Thra'mataklan didn't stir. Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes a moment as he felt the ship shake around him. In the same moment that Weyoun's battle against the bile was lost, the ship's violent shaking quickly settled to a stop.

On his hands and knees, Weyoun shuddered at the small landscape of purple and yellow bile that covered his hands as well as the sleeves of his tunic. He shuddered again when a chunk of undigested rippleberry slipped between his fingers. I should've stayed unconscious, he reflected and blinked away tears. Heaving some and with a shaking hand, Weyoun reached his headset and collapsed onto his good side, his left side, to hopefully spare the damaged hip. Getting the headset on, the Vorta activated it and breathed a thanks to Vorta ship design when Deep Space 9 was slowly filling the little screen.

"Open a channel." A soft chirp offered an affirmative in his ear that it was open and Weyoun immediately issued a distress call to the Federation. This hardly what the Founders would want as the first peaceful presence after the Dominion War but at that exact moment, while he was covered in his own stomach contents and seeing his already poor vision fading into unconsciousness, Weyoun wasn't concerned with what the Founders wanted.

A/N: Libernobis is a completed story of mine. Originally I didn't plan to put it here, but as I'm working on the sequel and the epub format for Libernobis (which will be thoroughly proofread for mistakes, hence why it is taking longer). I'm posting the first few chapters here and if I get a reception, I'd be happy to post the rest. If not, it shall continue to live on Ad Astra and DeviantArt. Thanks in advance for those of you who read and review!


Star Trek and all recognizable settings and characters from Libernobis are the property of Paramount pictures and CBS. I don't own any of it, nor do I make money off of this. Please, don't sue! You wouldn't get anything anyway.