Part 8 (1/2)
The rest of her thoughts she s.h.i.+elded to herself. If the Jem'Hadar suspected Okalan was a member of a rebel group, they'd torture him for information. Both the Dominion and Carda.s.sians were experts at painful interrogation, and although Okalan was strong and dedicated, she had no a.s.surance he could withstand his captors' brutalizing tactics. If he broke, he might give away the location of their stronghold, and, G.o.ds forbid, the terrible secret of Hent Tevren.
With the cavat farmer in the lead, they raced along the narrow wilderness path worn by the beasts they hoped to avoid. Branches whipped Lwaxana's face until it stung with lacerations, and she stumbled over rocks and tendrils of vine, but she refused to slow her pace. Only once, when her cloak caught on a bush of tarna thorns, did she stop and force herself to unhook it carefully. The least sc.r.a.p of fabric would alert an enemy patrol to their presence in the area. With her garment freed, she sprinted after the others, ignoring the st.i.tch in her side and the painful compression of her lungs as she struggled for air. On one occasion she heard beasts cras.h.i.+ng through the underbrush, but the sounds led away from them toward the river, not the village.
The tiny group maintained their draining pace for over an hour until the farmer stopped and held up his hand to signal a halt.
The village is just ahead, he announced.
Take us to where the forest comes closest to the community hall, Lwaxana instructed. We can't risk being seen.
I played in these woods as a child, the blacksmith said. Follow me. I know the way.
The glow of village lights was barely visible through the trees, and the only sounds the occasional barking of dogs and the rustle of a gentle wind through the overhanging branches. Lwaxana followed the men, at one point dropping to all fours to creep through the vines that blocked their way.
After several minutes of tedious travel, the blacksmith motioned them to stop. The community hall is over there, he said, pointing east through the trees.
I can't see it, Enaren grumbled.
If we move any closer, the blacksmith said, anyone at the community hall can see us.
Then I'll have to try from here. Lwaxana settled on a nearby tree stump, drew her cloak around her against the encroaching chill, and opened her mind. Okalan, are you there?
The answering blast of agony and fear almost knocked her to the ground. Lwaxana, is that you?
Yes, I'm here, in the woods near the village hall. Where are you?
The pain of his injuries cascaded through her, setting up sympathetic responses along her nerve endings. Her entire body vibrated from the shared agony. A glance at the men who accompanied her indicated they had not picked up Okalan's thoughts.
Okalan's nearby, she told them, and in horrible pain.
They have me in the hall, Okalan managed to send through his suffering.
The ryetalyn, she asked. What happened to it?
When they brought me here, there was a Carda.s.sian officer, Gul Lemec. He took the ryetalyn and poured it into the dirt.
Lwaxana suffered a spasm of grief for the dying children at the stronghold, then turned her thoughts back to Okalan. We'll try to get you out.
It's no use. I'm half dead already. The gul suspects my involvement in the resistance. They've tortured me for information, but so far I've denied everything.
Lwaxana sensed not only Okalan's pain, but the weakening of his spirit. His torturers would keep him alive and in excruciating distress until he told them what they wanted to know.
We'll get you free- Lwaxana began.
No! Okalan's refusal was powerful, in spite of his injuries. They've gouged out my eyes. My fingernails are gone. And they've pa.s.sed more electrical current through me than I ever thought a body could endure. There's only one thing to do for me now, and for yourselves.
Lwaxana refused to consider what he was suggesting. Okalan, no.
Dammit, listen to me. My interrogators just left. They'll give me time to recover to keep me alive. Then they'll begin again. Before they took my eyes, I saw an open window in this room. Every ten minutes, a Jem'Hadar sentry pa.s.ses and checks on me. One is almost due. If you kill me as soon as he pa.s.ses, you'll have ten minutes to escape before the next sentry sounds the alarm.
Tears sprang to Lwaxana's eyes. Okalan must have sensed her anguish.
Lwaxana ... don't make me beg you.
Lwaxana turned to Enaren. He had sensed much from hearing her side of the conversation, but when she told him Okalan's request, the blood drained from his ruddy face. His lips trembled for a moment, then he squared his shoulders and met Lwaxana's gaze. He's right. We have no choice.
Steeling herself, Lwaxana held out her hand to the cavat farmer. Give me your blow gun.
Enaren pushed her hand aside and removed his own weapon. Okalan's my oldest friend. I'll do it.
Before Lwaxana could protest, Enaren slipped through the underbrush toward the clearing. In what seemed only seconds, Lwaxana felt Okalan's grat.i.tude and relief that his old friend was ending his life, his pain, and any chance that he might break and betray those he loved.
Okalan welcomed death the way he'd lived, fearlessly, bravely, and with dignity. Wrenching sadness at the loss of a good man tore Lwaxana's heart. Okalan's thoughts slowed, emotions dimmed, then ceased for all eternity.
It's done. Enaren's grief at the loss of his friend and his rage at the Jem'Hadar were palpable.
Let's get back, Lwaxana ordered when Enaren reappeared, tears streaming down his aged cheeks. To herself she thought, We have a vigil to hold for a dying child.
Chapter Eight.
A S THE TRANSPORTER EFFECT TOOK THEM, Deanna felt certain that the Defiant was shaking under weapons fire. But when she solidified on the planet's surface, she stood intact with the other members of her team in a field of cavat that towered high above their heads.
Before anyone could move, Vaughn spoke quietly. ”Jem'Hadar patrol. Four of them on the road about one hundred meters ahead.”
Deanna heard the heavy boots of the Jem'Hadar tromping closer on the adjacent road. At the ominous rumble, her muscles tensed and her mouth went dry. Above her, high thin clouds rippled across the scarlet sky, and the morning sun hung low and bright on the horizon. A hawk wheeled overhead, and close by, the melodic trill of a songbird provided an ironic counterpoint to the sinister tread of the approaching enemy patrol.
”Act natural,” Vaughn ordered the away team in a soft voice.
”Respectfully, sir,” Data said with a puzzled frown, ”how does one act naturally in a cavat field?”
”First, don't call me sir,” Vaughn responded quietly. ”Then try picking cavat.”
Deanna forced a smile and reached for the nearest ear of cavat, a Betazed staple comparable to Terran corn, and tried to ignore the trembling of her hands. Her previous encounters with Jem'Hadar had been at a distance in s.h.i.+p-to-s.h.i.+p fighting. She expected her first face-to-face meeting to be intimidating, to say the least.
Data shrugged, then gamely grabbed a ripened ear, wrenched it easily from the stalk, and glanced around. ”We need a container.”
Deanna unwound her wide scarf and held it in front of her. ”Will this do?”
”You are very resourceful.” Data dropped the cavat into the scarf and reached for another ear.
”When I was a little girl,” Beverly said in a bright and animated tone with only a slight quaver of nervousness, ”my grandmother had a huge garden. One of the high points of the year was the first ripened corn. Grandma Howard would start water boiling on the stove, and I would pick the corn and rush it straight inside to the waiting pot. That hot corn dripping with fresh b.u.t.ter was the sweetest thing I've ever tasted.”
”As good as chocolate?” Deanna asked in disbelief.
”Uh-huh,” Beverly said, ”but in a different way.”
”Good,” Vaughn murmured, ”keep up the chatter.” Then louder he added, ”We should take some cavat back to the city for lunch. As hungry as I am, I don't know if we can carry enough.” Vaughn's deep, hearty laugh echoed through the field and sent the nearby songbird into flight, squawking in protest. The others-even Data, who had engaged his emotion chip in order to blend in more easily-joined in the laughter.