This is an amateur, non-commercial story, which is not produced, approved of, or in any way sponsored by the holders of the trademarks/copyrights from which this work is derived, nor is it intended to infringe on the rights of these holders. And so it goes.
One of Odo’s maxims was that the harder someone
tried to be inconspicuous, the more they should be watched. So the instant he
spotted a cloaked figure leaving the Pacifica passenger liner, he decided that
a bit of discreet surveillance was in order. The constable followed the
stranger through customs and toward the Promenade.
Glancing around, Odo stretched his form up to
the second level and quickly reformed into his everyday shape. The new vantage
point would aid him greatly in tracking the suspect, and it would also keep him
out of sight. With his unique appearance and reputation, a single glance back
would have warned the stranger and caused her—the suspect was definitely
female, based on the general body outline and gait—to change her plans and try
to elude the constable. With the considerable crowd that was milling in the
mercantile area, that tactic wouldn’t be too hard to execute and it would have
a high probability of success. So for now Odo chose aerial surveillance.
The suspect stopped at a kiosk and purchased a
treat. A glint of silver flashed from the shadows on the hood’s left side. Odo
wondered if his quarry was Bajoran; earrings were generally worn on the right
ear, but there were some, mostly exiles, who defied the traditional custom. Her
robe’s color and style were similar to those worn the Ghenee, a small Bajoran sect. And the Ghenee were firm believers in
keeping one’s face concealed as an act of humility toward the Prophets. Trouble
was, the Ghenee also believed in
cloistering themselves. Frowning, he strode to the next walkway and watched her
pass below. She munched contentedly at her treat, apparently unaware of Odo’s
surveillance.
She was heading toward Quark’s bar, which roused
Odo’s suspicions and hopes. The Ferengi had been lying unusually low lately, a
fact that had been gnawing incessantly at Odo. Experience had shown him that
whenever a Ferengi seemed most innocent of wrongdoing, invariably the greedy
alien was up to no good. Perhaps this furtive newcomer was on her way to
deliver some priceless stolen artifact into Quark’s hands. Or she might provide
him some inside information on a potential crime.
But no, the woman walked past the bar and
continued down the corridor. Odo grunted in disappointment and continued his
surveillance from his perch, wondering if perhaps he was getting a bit too
suspicious of anything new or unusual around the station. Then again, years of
trying to pin something, anything on that damnable Ferengi would drive
the sanest man to paranoia...
The suspect walked into a shop. Odo scurried
over to the side of the pathway and peered down. It was the ticket office for a
shuttle service that flew back and forth between Bajor and DS9. There was a
great deal of traffic between the planet and the station, enough to generate a
strong competition between the companies; it was common practice for Bajorans
to play one shuttle line’s rates against the others in hopes of getting the
best possible price.
The woman emerged a few minutes later but instead
of going to a competing service, she retraced her path and went into Quark’s.
Odo smiled grimly and followed her until he was sure the woman was definitely
going into the bar. Then he hurried toward the nearest staircase, descended,
and walked into the office the suspect had just left.
A young woman sitting at the front desk looked
up at him but did not smile. Few people were happy to see the constable drop
by, given the implications of his sudden appearance. “A woman in a beige cloak
and hood came in here a few minutes ago,” he said.
“Yes, she did,” replied the receptionist.
“What did she want?”
The clerk shrugged. “Passage on the next
available shuttle to Bajor, the same as everyone else who comes here.”
Odo nodded thoughtfully. “Which flight will she
be taking?”
“The next one—it leaves in about two hours. It’s
heading for Telantra.”
“I see.” Odo started to leave, then turned
around. “How did she pay for her ticket? Did she use a credit voucher?”
“No,” the clerk said, shaking her head. “She
paid with cash.”
A slight stab of frustration passed through Odo,
but he quickly dismissed it. “Thank you,” he said before leaving. “You’ve been
of great help.” Sighing, he headed over to Quark’s bar and took a position
directly opposite the entrance, then molded his form into the shape of an empty
kiosk. All he could do now was watch and wait.
An hour and a half later, the hooded suspect
left of the bar and walked briskly toward the shuttle docking bays. Odo shifted
back into his normal appearance and followed close behind. Technically, Odo
could not stop the woman and question her; there was, regrettably, no law
against walking around the Promenade mysteriously. But on the other hand, once
she entered that shuttle she would be beyond his jurisdiction. Odo realized
that he was going to have to decide on a course of action, and quickly.
But just then, fate intervened. Miles O’Brien
was walking toward them, his attention focused on a PADD report instead of
where he was going. Most residents of the station knew of the Chief’s bad habit
and would get out of his way; the suspect, however, continued on her collision
course with the Starfleet officer, perhaps lost in her own reverie. As Odo
watched, they smacked into each other and tumbled to the floor with a great
deal of noise. In the melee the woman’s hood fell away; Odo hurried over,
ostensibly to lend a hand, but the shocked, surprised look on O’Brien’s face
made him pause. He was staring at the woman in disbelief, while she simply sat
there with a pained expression on her face.
“Ro?” asked O’Brien. “Ro Laren? What the hell
are you doing here?”
* * * * * *
“Odo to Kira.”
Major Kira Nerys lifted one baleful eye toward
the ceiling and sighed; it never failed.
“Kira here.”
“There’s someone in the holding cell that you need
to see.”
Kira glared irritably at the ceiling. “Can it wait?” Sisko would have to go running off to that Starfleet conference
on the Maquis, leaving her in charge and having to handle every little problem
that came up. And just when she thought
she’d get a few hours to herself, the Prophets sent another annoyance her way.
“Her name is Ro Laren.”
Kira’s eyes went wide with surprise as she
jumped up into a sitting position. “You’re sure?”
“Everything matches her Starfleet profile,” Odo
confirmed.
“All right,” Kira said. “I’ll be right down. Kira out.”
She sat there a moment or two longer, turning this new turn of events
over in her mind, then looked over to the other side of the bed and smiled
tenderly. “Duty calls, I’m afraid,” she
said gently.
“I understand,” Bareil said sleepily. “I was
going to have to get up sooner or later anyway, so that I can lead the evening
services. But,” he added ruefully, “I
had been hoping for ‘later’ than ‘sooner’.” He pulled Kira down against him and
kissed her long and slowly.
“Keep that up and we’ll both be late,” Kira
warned as she reluctantly pulled away. She rolled off the edge of the bed and
started to dress; Bareil propped himself on an elbow and watched her.
“So what
is so important about this ‘Ro Laren’?” he asked.
“She’s a former Starfleet officer.” Kira looked
at herself in the mirror and ran her fingers through her short-cropped hair.
“Do I look all right?”
“You look...breathtaking,” Bareil assured her,
smiling as he reached over and pulled her back to the bed, wrapping his arms
around her waist from behind. “So what is so important about a former Starfleet
officer that you have to leave this minute?”
“She deserted Starfleet a few months ago and
joined the Maquis.” Kira turned around
in his arms and kissed him. “See you later?”
“Do you have to ask?”
* * * * * *
Odo rose from behind his desk as Kira strode
into his office and offered her a PADD. Jadzia Dax, the ranking Starfleet
officer in Sisko’s absence, was standing nearby, studying their new arrival
courtesy of the security monitors. “What’s her story?” she asked as she glanced
at Odo’s report.
“She won’t say,” the constable replied. “In fact, she hasn’t said a word since she
was brought in.”
Kira turned to Dax. “Have you contacted Starfleet yet?”
The Trill shook her head. “Things have been busy in Ops this
afternoon. I thought it might be better
if I came here and talked to her first, just in case she’s in on something
Starfleet needs to know about.”
“All right.
Well, let’s go and greet our new guest,” Kira said as she headed for the
detention area, Dax following close behind. Ro was in the cell farthest from
the door, sitting on her cot with her back to the wall and her eyes
closed. She looked slightly thinner, a
bit more worn and weary than the picture on the Starfleet warrant profile, and
there was a tension drawn tightly across her features that Kira could not help
but notice. Not surprising,
really. Kira remembered a few times
when she’d been captured by the Cardassians and had been given plenty of time
to think about what was coming. The
anticipation was almost as bad as the actual event.
Kira announced her presence by clearing her
throat; Ro’s eyes opened slowly and focused on her visitors. “Well,” Kira said as she leaned against the
interrogation table. “This is a very
unexpected surprise, Ensign...oh, sorry.
Lieutenant.” She pretended to
consult the PADD. “ You went up in the world, didn’t you? My mistake.”
Ro sighed, rolled her eyes toward the ceiling
and turned away from Kira. “Just bring
the Starfleet security officers in here and get it over with, all right?”
“I’m Lieutenant Dax,” Jadzia said, stepping
forward. “I’d like to know what you’re
doing here first.”
“Especially since you haven’t set foot on Bajor
in over twenty years,” Kira added.
Ro sighed heavily and leaned her head back
against the cell wall. “I am not here
on any Maquis assignment. This is
something personal. You have my word on
that.”
“Your ‘word’ doesn’t carry much weight these
days, Lieutenant,” Kira pointed out. Dax winced and shot her friend a warning
glare, then returned her attention to Ro.
“Ro, I don’t have to tell you how much trouble you’re in. A little cooperation could go a long way at
your hearing...”
“Court-martial,” Ro corrected sardonically. “No, Lieutenant, you don’t have to tell
me. I’ve already been court-martialed
once. I know the routine.”
“So you aren’t going to explain why you’re
here?” Dax pressed.
“I told you, it’s personal. My friends think I’m scouting around for a
new base of operations. They know
nothing of this.”
“I see.
Major, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll make that call to Admiral
Nechayev.” Dax turned and walked out of
the room, leaving the Bajorans alone.
They regarded each other silently for some time, each sizing the other
up. Kira had read Ro’s record—it was on the PADD Odo had given her—and quite
frankly wasn’t very impressed. The only thing she seemed to be good at was
abandoning her comrades unexpectedly...
Ro smiled at Kira. “Didn’t take them long, did
it?”
“I beg your pardon?”
The renegade officer smiled slightly. “Starfleet.
Didn’t take them very long to make you an obedient little servant. You or any of the other Bajorans here. Then again, you all probably got used to
taking orders from the Cardassians, didn’t you?”
Kira’s face flushed, and she balled her fists,
taking a step or two toward Ro’s cell, then she abruptly paused and
smiled. “Nice try.”
“I wasn’t trying anything. Merely pointing out that there might have
been a time, not too long ago, when you would have helped a fellow resistance
fighter instead of turning them in.”
Kira snorted in derision. “I fought the Cardassians since I was old
enough to hold a gun. You ran away from
Bajor the first chance you got. You’re
no ‘fellow resistance fighter’ in my book.”
“I’m fighting the Cardassians now,” Ro said
quietly. “That doesn’t count?”
“Not really, no.” Kira turned to leave.
“Wait!” Ro rose to her feet and stood by the
edge of the force field. “Is there a
Vedek aboard the station?”
Kira turned slowly. “Yes.” There was an odd, ominous tingling in her stomach...
“Good.
Then I wish to speak to him or her as soon as possible. I’m requesting Pahn-rasa.”
The major’s face tightened. “You can’t,” she said quickly.
“Any Bajoran can request Pahn-rasa, and you know it,” Ro said smugly. “And only a Vedek can choose to grant or
deny it. So get your Vedek down here and let me submit to the test.”
* * * * * *
Kira found Dax and Odo behind the constable’s
desk; the Trill was staring at his monitor screen and looking
uncharacteristically frustrated. “I
can’t believe this,” she muttered, her fingers flying over the panel
controls. “I’ve never had so much
interference getting an open line to Starfleet before...”
Kira took a deep breath. “We have a problem. Odo, I need you to bring Vedek Bareil
here. He’s...” She flushed
involuntarily. “He’s in my quarters,”
she finished lamely. The shapeshifter
regarded her curiously for a moment, then nodded and hurried out the door; Dax,
on the other hand, had a bright, knowing smile on her face, one that only made
Kira blush all the more.
“Nice going,” Dax said slyly, then sobered
up. “What’s wrong?”
“Ro’s requested Pahn-rasa.” At Dax’s mystified gaze, she sat on the edge of the
desk and explained. “It’s a very
special form of...well, parole,” the Bajoran woman said. “Long ago, Bajor was divided into various
sects of worshippers...a lot worse than what we have today, under one Kai,” she
hastened to add upon seeing the amusement on Dax’s face. “Some of the schisms were pretty bloody, and
feuds between factions were common. At
the same time, though, we were still a very religious people, and every so
often someone would have to make a pilgrimage to one of the temples. And sometimes that meant having to go
through an enemy faction’s territory.
“So eventually a process developed where a
pilgrim could be brought before a Vedek and his or her pagh
examined. If the applicant was truly on
a holy pilgrimage, the Vedek would proclaim him or her to be safe and free to
pass through the land. If not...” Kira
shrugged. “That’s how Pahn-rasa came about. That’s what Ro is claiming, and why Bareil
has to come down here.”
Dax frowned.
“And if Bareil finds she’s deserving? If he grants her this privilege?”
“Then, by Bajoran religious law, I have to...”
Kira made a face “...release her.”
“Ro Laren is a wanted fugitive by Starfleet,”
Dax began heatedly.
“This is a Bajoran station. Subject to Bajoran,
not Federation laws,” Kira reminded her.
“Benjamin will have a fit if he finds out you let
a Maquis agent go!”
“Do you think I want to?” At that moment Odo returned with Vedek
Bareil, who looked somewhat rumpled and sleepy but as placid as ever. “Vedek,
we have an applicant for Pahn-rasa,”
Kira informed him.
“What?” Bareil said, gaping slightly. “But that’s...it’s been a long time since
anyone’s claimed that.” But he quickly recovered and nodded to the two
officers. “Very well. Constable, if you’ll accompany me, I will
perform the judging of the applicant.”
He nodded to Odo, who gestured towards the doorway leading to the
holding area. Dax and Kira watched them
leave, then glanced uneasily at one another.
A minute later Bareil returned, deep in
thought. “Well?” Kira prompted.
The Vedek looked up. “Pahn-rasa has been
granted,” he said simply, then walked out the door.
“Lovely,” moaned Dax. “Just lovely...” She put her head against her hands and groaned
softly. “Now what?”
Kira had no immediate answer.
* * * * * *
Chief O’Brien was taking a slow walk around the Orinoco,
carefully checking the exterior for any potential trouble spots. Admittedly,
the bay crews had already given the runabout a thorough going-over, but the
engineer in him insisted on a personal inspection. Besides, there was just
something about these ships that made his heart leap every time he got saw one
sitting there, just begging him to come over and take it out on a quick run
around the station.
Mind you, he hadn’t the slightest idea what was
going on—he’d been working on Lieutenant Dax’s perpetually broken molecular
analyzer when Major Kira called and curtly ordered him to report to Docking Bay
Two, no further explanation. He had his
suspicions, of course—probably had something to do with Ro Laren’s unexpected
appearance—but it would have helped to get some sort of idea. Keiko hated it when he worked late and
didn’t tell her. And she’d arranged for
Molly to stay with the Coreys tonight so that they’d have some time alone...
He glanced up from his pre-flight checklist and
saw Kira approaching, Dax and Ro right behind her. None of the women looked particularly pleased, which boded ill.
But what really surprised him was the lack of restraints on Ro—there wasn’t
even a security escort! And when
O’Brien suddenly noticed that the Bajoran officer had a tote bag slung over her
shoulder, his confusion deepened even more. What the hell was going on? “All set to leave when you’re ready, Major,”
he reported, struggling to contain his curiosity.
“Thank you, Chief,” Kira replied. She turned
towards Ro and nodded toward the doorway of the Orinoco. “Go on in and get settled,” she said. “We’ll leave as soon as the checks are
complete.” The renegade Starfleet officer nodded and hurried inside; once Ro
had vanished from view, Kira turned back towards Dax. “We’ll make this as brief as we can,” she said almost pleadingly.
Dax shook her head. “I still don’t like this one bit.”
“I’ll be with her every minute we’re down
there. Plus, Bashir’s subcutaneous
transponder will track her down in no time if she tries anything. And as soon
as we’re gone, you can notify Starfleet about the situation—when we get back,
they can take her off our hands.” Kira
sighed and bit her lip. “I’m really
sorry about this, Dax, but under Bajoran law, I have no choice.”
“Benjamin is going to have a fit when he hears
about this,” Dax said, but finally nodded. “Be careful, Kira.”
“I will.
Chief?” O’Brien nodded and
followed Kira into the runabout; Ro was hunched over the pilot’s console, her
fingertips drifting over the controls as her eyes drank in every minute
detail. A dark glare crossed Kira’s
features as she cleared her throat.
Ro jumped and turned around, startled. “Sorry,” she said with a nervous smile. “I never got to fly one of these. I heard a lot of good things about them.”
“I’m sure the Maquis would just love to have a
few,” Kira said curtly. Ro took the
hint and headed over to a side console, which Kira wasted no time in shutting
down from her co-pilot’s position. O’Brien
took the main chair, and the two station officers quickly finished the preflight
checklist. “Major, I need to enter a flight plan,” O’Brien said, calling up the
standard route for the closest Starbase in anticipation.
“We’re going to Bajor,” Kira replied.
“What?” O’Brien yelped. “But...” He turned
towards Kira, who had turned toward him and was gracing him with one of her “do
you have a problem?” expressions. “Yes,
sir,” he finished lamely. “Plotting
course for Bajor.” He quickly cleared his original entry from the screen. “Specific destination?”
“Telantra,” Kira answered. O’Brien called up the
preprogrammed flight plan from the computer and made a few adjustments, then
gave everything a final once-over before nodding confirmation. “Orinoco to DS9, we’re ready for
launch,” Kira announced.
“DS9 to Orinoco,” Dax’s voice returned.
“You are clear for launch.” O’Brien guided the graceful craft off the landing
pad and aimed it at Bajor. Ro stared in dumbfounded awe at the station’s harsh,
angular beauty as the runabout performed a long arc around it before shooting
towards Bajor.
The trip was made in silence, save for the
occasional pilot patter between O’Brien and Kira. Ro said nothing but folded
her arms around her chest and concentrated on the planet that was growing ever
larger before them. She was almost grateful when they established orbit around
Bajor.
“Here we are,” O’Brien announced. Ro and Kira rose from their seats and took
positions beneath the transporter unit.
“Ready when you are, Chief,” Kira announced. “We’ll contact you when
we’re ready to come back.”
Ro smiled tentatively at O’Brien. “Good to see
you again, Chief,” she said.
“Uh...yeah,” he nodded uneasily. Then came the
sudden familiar tingle of transporting, and the women found themselves standing
outside the main transportation terminal at Telantra. They turned toward one
another and regarded each other uneasily.
Ro regarded her reluctant companion’s uniform.
“Did you want to change clothes?”
Kira frowned.
“What? Why?”
Ro shrugged and looked around. “Well, this is
the western continent, and it’s summer. I just thought you’d be more
comfortable in some lighter clothes.” Her long sleeveless skirt flapped about
as a gust of warm wind played with the fabric.
“I’m fine,” Kira growled, wiping sweat from her
forehead. “Let’s run this little errand of yours and get back to the station.
What do we need to do?”
Ro squinted into the late afternoon sky. “I’m
not sure,” she said. “Had I kept to my original schedule, I’d already be where
I want to go.” She sighed and shook her head. “But even with a landrunner, we
wouldn’t get there until long after dark.”
Kira’s mouth fell open. “Then why didn’t you
tell O’Brien to take us to this mysterious destination of yours in the first
place?” she demanded hotly.
Ro smiled.
“Because I don’t like the idea of your being able to whisk me back into
that cell any time you want.
Besides—why didn’t you fly us here yourself and leave the runabout on
autopilot until we were done?”
“Because I didn’t like the idea of going
anywhere with a Maquis terrorist without any backup!” Kira didn’t feel obliged
to add that since Sisko had taken the Rio Grande to the Starfleet
conference, and the Ganges was undergoing routine maintenance, they were
a bit short-handed in the transportation department. “Anyway,” Kira snapped,
“since I’m stuck with you until this little quest of yours is finished, I think
I’m entitled to know where we’re heading, don’t you?”
Ro shook her head; Kira opened her mouth to
argue the point, but the renegade officer cut her off. “You’ll understand why
when we get there.” She looked around and bit her lip. “Well, I guess we’d
better rent a runner, then find a place to stay for the night. This is going to
kill my savings...” She started walking toward the main terminal; Kira sighed
in exasperation, wiped the sweat from her face again, and trudged after her.
As Ro led the way into the main port terminal,
Kira shook her head tiredly. “There is no way you’re going to get any lodgings
this late. Let’s just get the damned runner and go to this mysterious site. I
don’t care how far away it is. I’ll help drive, I’ll push, I’ll carry you on my
back, but for Prophets’ sake, let’s get this over with!”
Ro ignored her, walking over to a computer
terminal and punching in her request for a two-seated landrunner. She frowned
as something came up on the screen, then issued a few more requests, none of
which brightened her expression. “Well, you were right about one thing,” she
sighed as she turned toward Kira. “There’s a springball tourney going on in
Telantra. All of the lodges are full, and every landrunner’s taken until
tomorrow. We’re stuck.”
Kira rolled her eyes. “Lovely. Just lovely,”
she groaned. “I knew this was a
mistake. I should have just pretended
that you’d never asked for Pahn-rasa
and let Starfleet take you away...”
“A little less bile and a little more thinking
would go a long way, you know,” Ro growled, finally losing her patience with
her guardian.
Kira thought about it a bit, then bit her lip.
“Let me make a call,” she finally said, a tone of great reluctance in her
voice. “I might be able to persuade a friend to put us up for the night.”
* * * * *
“This,” Kira announced, “is Mullibok. Mullibok,
this is Ro Laren.” And may the Prophets
have mercy on me, she added silently as the burly old man in the doorway
grinned delightedly and shook Ro’s hand heartily. While Kira was pleased to see
her friend full of life and obviously thriving, the idea of putting him in the
same arena with Ro was somehow disquieting.
“Come in, come in,” Mullibok urged, all but
dragging Ro in and giving Kira an irascible grin, one that confirmed her worst
suspicions. “Make yourselves at home,” he urged, waving his hands around the
spacious, cluttered house. “I was just starting on dinner when I got your call.
Should be done soon, if I got the recipe right.”
“I hope we’re not putting you to any
inconvenience,” Ro said, pushing a pile of wrinkled clothes off a chair before
sitting down. Kira for her part was making a slow reconnaissance around the
room, clucking in disapproval as a finger run across the fireplace mantle built
up a small mountain of dust. The place looked as though a tornado had roared
through then suddenly vanished, dropping everything into utter disarray.
Typical old bachelor, she thought to herself as she shook her head and moved
on.
“Inconvenience? Nah.” Mullibok sat down beside
Ro and began to whittle away at a vegetable. “You kidding? My neighbors just
saw two beautiful women come in here, and they’ll keep watching to see when you
leave. I’m gonna be the most envied man around here for the next two weeks.” He
looked up and glanced over at Kira, who had picked something up from a corner
of the room and was studying it intently. “Say, did she tell you about the tree
yet?” he said to Ro in a conspiratorial stage whisper.
“No, I don’t believe so,” Ro said, glancing
nervously at Kira.
“Well, see, when she was a little girl, there
was this ugly old tree outside her window, and no matter what she did she
couldn’t get it to budge. So she set it on fire and transplanted what was left
of it on Bajor...”
“Mullibok!” Kira yelled from across the room.
“Enough with the tree.”
“Well, I thought it was a nice little story,
myself,” the old man finished, flashing an unrepentant wink at Ro. He examined
his collection of vegetables critically.
“Hmmm. You think this is enough
for three, Laren?”
She blinked in surprise at his use of her
name. “I...I suppose so.”
“Good, good.”
He began picking up the vegetables one by one, giving them a critical
final examination before tossing them in his stew pot. “Hard for me to tell sometimes. I don’t get
much company these days. Oh, every now and then I’ll invite one of the ladies
in the neighborhood over for dinner...”
Suddenly Kira marched over to the table and
flung a large white bundle down on it. Ro’s eyes widened as she realized what
it was—a woman’s brassiere, one of decidedly impressive dimensions. “Well?”
Kira demanded imperiously.
Mullibok looked at the lingerie, then at Kira,
and shrugged. “Sometimes they stay for dessert.”
* * * * *
Dinner had started out awkwardly, but the old
man teased and flirted shamelessly with Ro, eventually drawing her out of her
quiet and even getting Kira to smile a few times. After dessert, Kira had gone
outside, returning a few minutes later with a look of grim satisfaction on her
face. Ro sighed softly and worked on her second piece of sharok pie.
“Problem?” Mullibok rumbled under her breath.
“She’s probably checking to see if I can slip
out of here tonight and leave her behind,” Ro replied.
“Why?” he asked. “Not that I wouldn’t blame you, the way she can be sometimes...”
Ro shook her head and smiled, but declined to elaborate, especially since Kira
chose that moment to return to the table. Not long afterwards, Ro pleaded
exhaustion and went to bed, leaving Mullibok and Kira alone for the first time
that night.
Mullibok sat in an oversized chair by the
fireplace and watched Kira fold his now-clean laundry into neat little piles.
“I can’t believe you live like this,” she grumbled as she placed the final pile
of clothing on the dining table. “You need a woman around here.” She heard his
deep rumbling chuckle and shook her head. “For more than that, Mullibok.”
“Hey, they come in here, see what a slob I am,
and take pity on me,” the old man grinned. “And once they get a bite of my
sharok pie...”
“It was delicious,” Kira admitted as she sat
down in a chair opposite his. They stared into the fire for some time, content
to let the silence grow. “It’s good to see you,” she finally said.
“Yeah,” Mullibok nodded. “I’ve been wondering
how you’ve been.”
“I’ve meant to come,” she apologized with a
pleading look. “But things get so busy
up on the station, I never seem to have enough time for anything.”
“Ah, it’s okay,” he said with a wave of
dismissal. He glanced toward the closed guest room door. “So what’s the story
with Laren?”
Kira sighed.
“That’s a very long story that I’m not sure I want to tell.”
“I take it she’s not exactly an ‘old friend’ of
yours,” he commented.
“No, she’s not.” Kira got up and went to the
kitchen to fix herself some tea. “She’s
a former Starfleet officer who defected to the Maquis.”
Mullibok raised an eyebrow as he considered the
information. “So why’s she here instead
of a security cell?”
“Because she claimed Pahn-rasa for some damned quest of hers, and Vedek Bareil had to
grant it.” Kira grit her teeth as she saw the sudden interest in Mullibok’s
eyes, and she wondered how much gossip about DS9 he’d heard—or how much gossip
about the Vedek had been flying around on Bajor.
“Bareil?” the old man mused. “Lucky for Laren he happened to be on the
station, hmmm? I hear he’s been making a lot of trips up there lately...”
“Mullibok,” she pleaded, “enough. I’m tired and
I’m not in the mood.”
“All right, all right,” he chuckled. He stared
into the fire for a few moments before speaking again. “So she’s on a religious quest, and you’re
here to make sure she doesn’t escape along the way.”
“Basically.”
“So what happens when she finishes this quest?”
Kira bit her lip. “Then...I take her back to the station and remand her to
Starfleet’s custody.”
“Just like that.”
“Well, yes.”
Kira glanced over at the old man.
“She’s a deserter,” she said tightly.
“She abandoned Starfleet and joined a terrorist organization...”
“...which is fighting the Cardassians,” Mullibok
finished. “You and she ought to get
along, Nerys. You’ve got a lot in
common.”
“We have nothing in common!” she snapped. “I’ve fought for Bajor all my life. She escaped a work camp and ran straight for
the Federation, and ended up getting a court martial for some botched-up
assignment! And then she got a second
chance to prove herself, and just as quickly abandoned Starfleet for the
Maquis! I never abandoned my comrades or my duty, no matter what! Never!”
Mullibok nodded to himself. “I thought you didn’t care for Starfleet too
much, Nerys.”
She opened her mouth to reply, then caught
herself. “I...see things a little
differently, now.”
“Maybe she does, too.” He let that sink in for a time, then smiled. “You know what I think, Nerys?”
“No, but you’ll undoubtedly tell me,” she sighed.
“I think Laren bugs you because you’re far more
alike than you’d care to admit. There’s a part of you that understands why
she’s with the Maquis, and you admire her for joining them, and you wish you
could join them too.” He leaned toward her.
“You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re hoping she finds away to
get away from you, either.”
Kira snorted softly. “Right.”
“Suit yourself, Nerys.” The old Bajoran rose to his feet and
stretched. “It’s late, and I’m an old
man who needs his sleep, so I’m turning in.
How about you?”
She shook her head. “I’m staying up...just in case.” She glanced over at the closed
door to the guest room.
“Whatever.
I’ll be up around sunrise to fix breakfast. Remind me if I forget to put on a robe, okay?”
“Why?”
The old man grinned lustily. “’Cause I sleep naked. Good night, Nerys.”
“Good night, Mullibok.” She waited until the old man had shut the
door to his bedroom, then sighed and sat back in the chair, lost in thought as
she stared into the flames dancing in the fireplace.
* * * * * *
Kira awoke to find herself curled up in the
chair, wrapped in a heavy blanket. The fireplace was dark and cold now, the
blackened wood smoldering quietly. Cursing herself for her weakness, she
quickly rose to her feet and peered out the nearby window; to her relief, the
runner was still there. She heard a
pair of voices coming from the dining room, and so, running her fingers quickly
through her hair, she threw her shoulders back and walked into the room as
nonchalantly as she could.
Ro and Mullibok were sitting at the table eating
breakfast. From the look of things, they’d been up for some time and had been
having a fine old time without her. Mullibok drank a deep gulp of juice and
suppressed a belch. “About time you got up,” he commented. “Laren’s all set to
go, but she says she can’t leave without you.”
Kira’s eyes scanned the table: eggs, polaku
sausages, bread, cheese and fruit. Her stomach growled in anticipation as she
sat down opposite Ro. “Good thing she didn’t leave,” she commented as she
filled her plate. “Then I’d be stuck here with you all day, Mullibok, and what
would your girlfriends do then?”
“Spy on us and gossip, probably,” Mullibok
replied. “Now that I think about it, though...you sure you two have to leave
today? My rep could use the boost around here.” Kira smiled and shook her head,
choosing instead to attack her meal. Nothing else was said for a time as
everyone concentrated on eating. Then the old man looked at Kira. “Just how
well do you know Vedek Bareil?” he asked.
Kira glanced up from her plate. “Why?” she
managed to squeak evenly.
“No real reason. You were just saying his name
in your sleep when I put that blanket around you, that’s all.” Nearby, Ro
sipped at her juice and tried to hide a smile.
Kira felt her cheeks growing red-hot. Damn, she thought to herself.
“I’ve...met Vedek Bareil, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Huh.” Mullibok leaned closer. “He’s the good
looking one, isn’t he?”
“I suppose he might be considered handsome,”
Kira conceded.
“You sweet on him?” the old man asked.
That did it. “No, I’m not ‘sweet on him’!” she
shouted. “Vedek Bareil is a very religious, very honorable man! He saved my
life during that mess with the Circle and helped us out when we needed
assistance. He’s very nice, and yes, he is handsome, but I am NOT. SWEET. ON.
HIM.” She shot the old man her most scathing glare and finished her tirade with
a very audible snort.
Mullibok glanced at Ro. “I think she’s sweet on
him. What do you think?”
“That is ENOUGH!” Kira yelled. She rose to her
feet and threw her napkin down, then turned toward Ro. “I’ll be waiting
outside. Finish up and let’s get this damned thing over with!” Ignoring
Mullibok, she then turned smartly on her heel and stormed out the front door.
Mullibok watched her go, then grinned and
resumed eating. “I think she’s sweet on him,” he chuckled.
* * * * *
Kira tried to ignore the steady blast of hot
wind slapping her face and squinted toward the horizon as Ro guided the runner
toward her secret destination. Even with sunshades over her eyes, the
relentless glare of the sun made her instinctively furrow her brow. The air was
arid and dusty, parching both her lungs and her throat, and as she sipped at
her drink Kira again thanked the Prophets that she’d had the foresight to buy
it at lunch, along with the lighter, more appropriate clothing she now had on
in lieu of her uniform.
Lunch seemed like an eternity ago; the desert
could do that, make time stretch out like an elongated elastic band. Kira
remembered times with the Shakaar when the afternoons seemed to drag on forever
as they waited for nightfall and the chance to attack. And there were days in
the work camps when only the monotonous routine kept her from going insane
under the sun, the heat, and the Cardassians who never let her out of their
sight.
Cardassians,
she thought to herself. Something had
been tugging at her memories for the last hour or so, something connected to
those soulless bastards. Frowning, she
tried to remember the Shakaar mission planning meetings, tried to recall if
anything important to the Cardassians was in this region...
And suddenly everything seemed to fall into a
neat little picture for Kira. She turned toward Ro, whose gaze was fixed
straight ahead. “Just where in the hell are we going?” she yelled over the roar
of the wind, wishing again that they’d been able to rent a runner with a roof.
“There,” Ro replied. She removed one hand from
the controls and pointed, and Kira gasped as her guess was confirmed. There it
sat, a forlorn, abandoned outpost in the middle of nowhere, seemingly forgotten
by the universe save for its name...and its reputation.
“Teracco.” Kira shivered in the heat as the name
slipped past her lips.
Ostensibly Teracco was a Cardassian mining camp,
but the mines had long since been stripped barren. But the place still had its
uses—most notably, it was the perfect place to work Bajorans to death. So the
Cardassians kept Teracco as a going concern, and as each laborer collapsed and
died, the body was thrown into a huge empty pit. And when the pit became full
or the smell of rotting bodies became too great, the hole was covered with dirt
and a new hole dug. There were many mass graves at Teracco; the camp had done
its grisly work well.
The Bajoran Resistance had long wanted to liberate
Teracco, but it was so far out in the desert that air assaults could easily be
detected and stopped, and ground assaults would have required far too much
planning and allocation of resources. So easier targets were hit, and Teracco
continued unmolested. There were a few escapes, here and there, but the
Cardassians never went after them—there was no point in it. The sun and the
land would kill the escapees just as quickly, and frankly it was far too much
work for so little profit. Just another body in the pit, so far as they were
concerned.
When the Cardassians finally left Bajor, they
left Teracco as well, simply taking what they wanted and leaving everything
else behind with the few Bajorans who were still alive in the camp.
Unfortunately, among the things they’d taken were all the food and water. Of
the five dozen Bajorans who were still alive when their captors abandoned the
camp, only a handful were left when the Resistance finally arrived.
The provisional government didn’t know what to
do with Teracco. Some wanted it razed to the ground, others wanted it kept as a
memorial. But there were far more important priorities—food, water, clothing,
and of course, power. The fate of one deserted death camp in the middle of
nowhere simply wasn’t that important. So Teracco continued to sit in the
desert, abandoned save for the ghosts of its dead.
Until now. Ro had stopped the runner just in
front of the main gate; she got out, picked up a rock and casually tossed it
through the opening. “No force fields on,” she said.
“There wouldn’t be,” Kira replied. “The
Resistance shut down all the power relays when they liberated the place. Cut
down on potential booby-traps. The Cardassians had all kinds of surprises lined
up in their other camps.”
“Here too?”
Kira shook her head. “No need.” She turned
toward Ro. “Why are we here? What’s so important that you would risk being
caught and imprisoned for it?”
Ro lifted a hand to her eyes and squinted at the
sun. “It’s going to be dark soon,” she said. “Let’s have dinner now, then go
inside. I’ll explain everything then.” At Kira’s exasperated sigh she added, “I
promise.”
* * * * * *
“I’m waiting for that explanation,” Kira said.
They were walking slowly toward the southern edge of Teracco, where a long line
of mounds was coming into view. The sun was sinking lower and lower into the
horizon, and with it sank the temperature. It was pleasant now, but the evening
air held the promise of brisk cold.
Ro nodded and sighed. “It’s a long story. I’ll
try and keep it brief.” She stopped and looked back at Kira. “I’m here to
perform the Chant for my father.”
“Here?” Kira echoed surprised. “You went to all
this trouble just to chant....” Realization suddenly struck her. “You mean that
you...”
“My father and I were imprisoned at Teracco, yes.”
Ro glanced at the battered, weatherworn shacks behind her. “I wasn’t more than
seven. We came here and we worked every day in the desert, until one day one of
the officers took me into a room where my father was being held. And I watched
his men beat my father to death.”
Ro’s voice was soft, almost whispering. “They
probably just threw his body into one of the graves; it was their standard
operating procedure. And of course no one chanted. It wasn’t permitted. Might
take someone away from work.
“The same officer who’d allowed me to watch his
men kill my father took an ...interest in me. Not long after, he was
transferred to another work camp off-planet.
The Gul in charge there took a dim view of his new subordinate’s...tastes
and sent him back to Cardassia Prime. I
was tossed in with the other Bajorans. Eventually I saw a chance to escape, and
I took it.”
Kira shook her head. “You could have returned to
Bajor. Why didn’t you?”
Ro laughed. “For one, I was on a freighter bound
for one of the non-aligned worlds. I couldn’t be choosy about where I was
going.” Her face grew somber. “Besides, there was nothing left for me on Bajor
except bodies and memories. And the Resistance was a joke.” She glanced over at
Kira, who was frowning. “What did you accomplish, really and truly?”
“We had our moments,” Kira said quietly.
“Moments. But everyone knew you couldn’t win. I
didn’t want to be on the losing side again.
So when the opportunity presented itself, I requested and got asylum
with the Federation, and eventually wound up in Starfleet.”
“And got yourself in trouble.”
Ro gave that odd sardonic smile of hers. “Word
gets around, I see. Yes, I got in trouble. But that’s in the past, and I don’t
believe in dwelling in the past—not now.”
“Then why are we here?” Kira demanded softly.
Ro glanced up at the sky and started walking
again, heading toward one of the taller mounds. “Not too long ago, I had an
experience where I thought I’d died. Turns out I hadn’t, but it got me to
thinking about our faith. So I began to study, trying to pick up everything I’d
been taught and go farther with it. It felt good. For the first time in my
life, I started feeling like a real Bajoran.” She glanced back at her
companion. “Not that you’d agree, of course.” Kira bit her lip and said nothing,
merely followed as Ro reached the top of the mound. The sun had just about
finished setting, and the sky was now a mixture of colors as the stars and
moons began to appear. Ro took in the view for a few moments before speaking
again.
“When I infiltrated the Maquis, I met a man
named Macias. He was a kind, old man
who smiled and joked around a lot, and he had this taste for spicy Bajoran
food.” She smiled at the memory. “He took me under his wing, made me feel at
home. He even conned me into fixing him
dinner one evening.” Ro’s grin faded slowly.
“He trusted me. Said that when one person left, another would take their
place. And here I am, a Starfleet spy, learning all their secrets so I could
betray them later, and this old man trusts me.” Her gaze fell to the
dirt at her feet.
“And?” Kira quietly prompted.
Ro’s head snapped back up. “And …he was killed during a Cardassian
sneak attack on the base.” She bit her
trembling lip and took a deep breath before she continued. “I didn’t really know him that well. I didn’t know him at all. But when he died in my arms that evening, I
cried. I cried all night. I cried for him as I’d never cried for my father. And so I sat on the floor of my room and I
performed the Bajoran Death Chant for Machias.
“And when I was done, I realized that I had
chanted for someone I’d known just for a brief time, but never for my father.”
She looked at Kira. “There are some faiths that believe the Chant serves to
release a pagh from the body as well
as honor the dead. The more I thought about it, the more it gnawed at me.
Finally, I decided to come back to Bajor and do my duty, as a daughter...and as
a Bajoran. And that’s why we’re here.” She sighed. “Told you it was a long
story. Pretty stupid reason, huh?”
Kira looked away. “No. It’s not stupid. Not at
all.”
Ro sighed again and sat down lotus-style atop
the mound. “This might take a while,” she said a bit too loudly, as she’d been
doing all along—as if the volume might keep the ghosts at bay. “You might want
to get some blankets from the runner.” And then she paused, took a deep breath,
and began the Chant.
The syllables poured out from her like water,
rushing out into the night sky and echoing through the emptiness that
surrounded her. Ro felt them leave her one by one, and yet they filled her as
well, making her feel as though she could keep this up for all eternity. There was no hesitation, no awkwardness in
her voice; the Chant had become her, and to release it into the night seemed like
the only logical thing to do. Ro let her heart fly with her voice and became
one with her world—scarred, scared, but determined to heal no matter how long
it took.
It took the longest time for her to realize that
she did not chant alone.
* * * * * *
The next morning, they returned to Telantra. Silence filled the runner all the way
back. Both Ro and Kira knew what was
going to happen—what had to happen—but neither of them wanted to destroy
the tentative bond by speaking. So they
stared straight ahead at the growing outline of the city and remained quiet.
They reached the main terminal by midday, and
Kira watched as Ro returned the runner and paid the rental fee. The dark-haired woman paused at the desk and
eyed Kira momentarily, then sighed, squared her shoulders and rejoined her
companion. “Well, that’s taken care
of,” she said a bit too breezily. “Time
to go back?”
Kira nodded and gestured toward the
communications center. They walked side
by side in awkward silence. Then Ro
glanced briefly at the ceiling.
“I...wanted to thank you.”
“It’s no problem,” Kira said, her eyes fixed on
the commline cubicles.
“I know this hasn’t been easy for you, but I
appreciate your letting me do this.”
“I didn’t have a choice in the matter.”
“Last night you did.” Kira turned her head to look at Ro, her face unreadable. Ro
didn’t let it deter her. “Thank you.”
The Bajoran officer nodded and guided her companion-now-prisoner over to the
main desk. “I need a commlink to Deep Space
Nine,” she ordered curtly. The receptionist nodded and directed her to a cubicle
in the far corner of the center. Kira let Ro take the lead as they walked to
the enclosed area.
And then Kira gently nudged Ro out of the way
and entered the tiny room first.
Ro seized the opportunity.
When Kira’s head exploded into consciousness ten
minutes later, Ro was long gone.
* * * * *
Back on the station, Kira sat on the biobed and
tolerated both Bashir’s and Sisko’s examinations. “You mean to tell me you turned your back on a Maquis agent?” the
station commander declared angrily.
“I was tired,” Kira said simply. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“Please hold still, Major,” Bashir said. “This is quite a lump you’ve got, and I want
to make sure I get it all.” Kira winced as his probe touched a sensitive area,
but obeyed the physician’s order. Sisko looked exhausted; he must have left the
conference the instant Dax had told him about the Ro situation. That meant that
he and Jake didn’t get any time together, either. Kira felt a twinge of guilt but said nothing further.
“Will she be all right?” Sisko asked Bashir.
“Well, I’d prefer she take the day off—while
there’s no concussion, a blow to the head can scramble things a bit until the
brain’s had time to recover. But yes,
she’ll be all right.” Bashir favored
her with a smile and offered a hand to help her off the biobed; Kira waved him
away and did it herself.
“If you wouldn’t mind, Commander, I would like
to take today off,” she said. “I’m
tired and frankly, my head does hurt.”
Bashir lifted his hypospray and raised his eyebrows in an unspoken
offer; this time Kira nodded and accepted.
A quick hiss later, her headache had shrunk to more tolerable levels.
Sisko nodded curtly toward the door. Kira followed him as they left the infirmary
and walked through the bustling Promenade.
The commander was silent until they reached a turbolift and went
inside. “I’m not happy about this,” he
said quietly. “Starfleet is livid.”
“Good thing I’m not a Starfleet officer,” she
replied.
Sisko glanced over at her, then sighed. “Yes, I
suppose it is.”
“I...am sorry she got away, sir,” Kira began.
He silenced her with a look that could freeze
the sun. “No, you’re not. No more than I was to see Cal Hudson
escaping.” At that moment the turbolift reached Ops, and Sisko prepared to
exit. “You have the rest of the day
off, Major. I expect to see your report by the end of your shift tomorrow,” he
ordered quietly.
Kira nodded and watched him leave; Dax, sitting
at her post, looked up and smiled at Kira.
She returned the smile, and then Ops vanished as the turbolift descended. Kira got off at the Promenade upper level
and headed for the habitat ring, but she paused at one of the many windows that
lined the outer walls of the station and stared out into the stars for a very
long time.
“Walk with the Prophets, Ro Laren,” she said
quietly, then turned and headed for her cabin.