Part 15 (2/2)
Halpas cursed. He hadn't expected this. A prison camp on a planet in an uninhabited system-why the extra security?
Taryl sounded worried. ”We'll have to take the raiders down, time ourselves against their sensors.”
”We can't take the raiders,” Lenaris argued. ”Two of them can barely hold two people apiece. We might might be able to squeeze four into the third, but there's no telling how it'll behave with that much weight. And it won't leave any room for Lac.” be able to squeeze four into the third, but there's no telling how it'll behave with that much weight. And it won't leave any room for Lac.”
”We can do it,” Taryl said, though she sounded less than certain. ”We have to. If we can get inside, we can shut down the s.h.i.+eld. Then Halpas could use the transporters to get everyone else out.”
Halpas nodded along, more certain by the moment that they weren't going to survive-and more exhilarated, at the very slight chance that they would. What they were attempting was unprecedented, which was why it might actually work. And they'd have help on the inside, once the prisoners realized they were being liberated.
And it'll make those spoonheads think twice about who they're dealing with.
”But-” Lenaris began, but he didn't finish, apparently realizing that it was the only way. ”All right,” he said. ”Let's go below and tell the others. Tiven, you can ride with me.”
”I'm riding with Taryl.” Tiven grinned.
Lenaris rolled his eyes. ”Halpas,” he said, ”set her in orbit, and stand by for our signal.”
They nodded to him, and headed for the shuttlebay.
”I've located the transport,” Garresh Trach announced. ”Sensors show it to be docked at Tilar, just where it was reported to have landed.”
”Well, take her down,” Damar ordered irritably. He hadn't expected Veja's transport to be anywhere but at the vineyards.
Trach landed the shuttle clumsily, and Damar cursed himself for letting the younger man pilot. He had wanted to exercise his authority by being in command, but Trach lacked experience at everything.
”Do you see any Carda.s.sian life signs?” Damar asked.
”No, only Bajoran. See for yourself.” He pointed out the sensor results. A cl.u.s.ter of readings at the resort, undoubtedly groundskeepers and staff.
”We need better scanning equipment,” Damar muttered.
”We might have more luck with handheld scanners,” the garresh offered. ”More precise, though we have to be in close range.”
”Fine. Get me a tricorder, and bring one for yourself.”
”Yes, sir.”
The two men exited their shuttle and surveyed the land around them. The air was thick with humidity, and cool, but the sun was bright and warming. The vineyards were hilly, a wide expanse of land, green like Bajor's seas, with tessipate tessipates and tessipate tessipates of leafy vines, creeping up dark wooden stakes that had been driven into the dark ground. The soil beneath his feet was rich and black, the long, spiky leaves that sprouted thickly from the vines rustling in the breeze, their deep green cutting sharply against the charged blue of the cloudless sky. Damar could see why the first Carda.s.sians to Bajor had claimed this spot and why it remained a popular destination, even after the repeated terrorist attacks here in the early years of the annexation.
Veja, he thought, and felt his stomach knot. he thought, and felt his stomach knot.
Damar examined his tricorder readouts. Still no Carda.s.sian biosigns anywhere nearby. Where were the soldiers? There was a base not a few hours away by skimmer.
He contacted the base, spoke to the glinn in charge-his name was Ratav, and he had a short temper and was not afraid to use it. It seemed that a full half of their surface transports had suffered fuel-line sabotage by resistance hands, only the night before. Ratav's soldiers were pulling double s.h.i.+fts, and patrols had been rendered effectively useless for however long it took to repair the damage.
”But the situation here-” Damar started, aware that he was risking himself, arguing with a superior, but aware also that his position at Dukat's side meant that some allowances would be made.
Glinn Ratav obviously didn't think so. ”I'll be sure, once my working s.h.i.+ps come back-after having run patrols for twenty-six hours straight-to send a squadron of my finest, to help you find your female.” ”I'll be sure, once my working s.h.i.+ps come back-after having run patrols for twenty-six hours straight-to send a squadron of my finest, to help you find your female.”
He said it with no trace of sarcasm, but the message couldn't have been clearer. Damar gave it up, promising revenge another day. It seemed they were on their own, at least for a while.
”We'll separate,” he told the garresh. He called up a topo map on the tiny screen, traced out two paths that should allow them to cover the most ground. ”Contact me at fifteen-minute intervals, unless you come across anything that could help us-anything at all, no matter how trivial.”
”Yes, sir.” Trach extended his scanner and headed off into the seemingly endless stretch of curly vines and wafting leaves.
Damar headed off at an angle, sweeping the scanning device, watching for signs that people had walked through recently. The smell of the air, of warm plant decay, the sounds of insects and small wildlife moving through the brush, all worked to distract him, but he could think only of Veja, of their last words together. He walked over a number of gullies and ditches, with muddy, standing water at the bottoms, swarms of insects hatching from the decaying muck. He came to wider trenches with steep sides, wide enough for a tall man to walk through, lined with flat, interlocking stones and outfitted with metal runners built along the vertical sides. Inserted into the runners were sheets of old metal, twisted and corroded with age. Damar stopped to examine one of them, and understood that it had once been used to dam the drainage ditch, probably during the dry months of summer. The ditch led to the base of a large hillside, where it disappeared into the ground. This irrigation system was extensive, to be sure, but it had run dry for some reason. Perhaps this leg of it had been cut off from the main water source.
He walked for a significant distance before he got anything-a weak biosign that appeared to be Carda.s.sian. He moved the scanner about, watching the flickering numbers, followed its strength on a path that branched from his own. A second biosign had joined the first-they were definitely Carda.s.sian, and there was a Bajoran with them.
”A Bajoran has taken us hostage...” Why had Natima called him, and not Veja? Damar moved faster, tearing through the virulent undergrowth. Why had Natima called him, and not Veja? Damar moved faster, tearing through the virulent undergrowth.
He grew closer to the biosigns, drew his phaser-and watched, puzzled, as they started to fade. He reset the scanner and began again, but the readouts were the same, as though he were picking up signals through something, the density of that substance changing as he walked...
Underground. Those drainage ditches. Those drainage ditches.
”Garresh Trach,” he barked into his comcuff. ”Lock on to my signal and report to me immediately.”
Astraea was frustrated. She had been so sure that she would find something here in Lakarian City. She had been certain that she would find the original location of the ancient black stone cottage, either by landmark or...
Admit it. You thought you'd feel feel it, sense something that would give you direction. it, sense something that would give you direction. After a long day of searching, she was embarra.s.sed by her previous certainty. She had scoured the area, the ruins, even the meager museums that displayed what was left of the Hebitian artifacts-anything that hadn't been sold off to help fund the military was exhibited here. But of what there was-broken urns, carvings, simple tools-there was nothing that spoke to her in any meaningful way. After a long day of searching, she was embarra.s.sed by her previous certainty. She had scoured the area, the ruins, even the meager museums that displayed what was left of the Hebitian artifacts-anything that hadn't been sold off to help fund the military was exhibited here. But of what there was-broken urns, carvings, simple tools-there was nothing that spoke to her in any meaningful way.
She left the last preserved ruin, some sort of stable, to the few wandering sightseers and scientists that had shared her flight out, and started walking, lost in thought. The hot, dry day was soothing, though the dust was relentless...and she had gone back to struggling with truth and reality, afraid once more that she'd made a terrible mistake.
Her dreams were real-she had been so sure of that. The simple act of reviewing those images now, those fragments, affirmed their substance in her mind's eye. They had had to be real. If they weren't real, she had jeopardized her future without just cause, had decided to leave her home, her career, her to be real. If they weren't real, she had jeopardized her future without just cause, had decided to leave her home, her career, her family family-she could scarcely even acknowledge the profundity of what she'd given up.
She had not been gone long enough for anyone to really worry about her, she supposed. Perhaps she should go back home, confess what she had done, and accept the punishment? Certainly, she was guilty of no less than deliberate sabotage-a crime that was usually punished by execution-but the Orb had affected her somehow. Perhaps she would not be held fully responsible.
No. The effect it would have on her family, the disgrace of having a traitor for a daughter-it might be better if they never knew what had happened to her. It was already too late to go back.
She wandered toward the outskirts of the ruined city, checking her timepiece as she walked. She had booked transport on a shuttle to Carda.s.sia II, scheduled to leave in the early evening. Her plan had been to find the book that the Hebitian had told her of-hidden in plain sight-and go into hiding for a while herself, plan her next move...dream whatever needed to be dreamed, to complete this insane quest.
She looked out at the flat horizon just to be absolutely sure that there was nothing here-no remnants of the last Oralians. Although, she corrected herself, they were not the last last Oralians, they were probably the first. The last Oralians must have lived in Carda.s.sia City, since they still existed when she was a baby. Oralians, they were probably the first. The last Oralians must have lived in Carda.s.sia City, since they still existed when she was a baby.
Astraea stopped walking, the truth opening before her like a flower. Carda.s.sia City! The last Oralians existed just decades ago, not centuries. If there were any remnants of the Oralian Way, it would be outside the last known enclave of planetside followers, which was in Carda.s.sia City! In fact...Something so obvious occurred to her then, she was stunned that she had not considered it before. Like something in plain sight, but hidden Like something in plain sight, but hidden. In her dream, the first of those significant dreams she had experienced, she had been walking toward the stone cottage from the city, from her home. It had been under her nose this entire time.
I am looking in the wrong place.
Natima and her would-be captor had begun systematically moving rocks and heaps of dirt away from the dark branch of the tunnel they'd been trapped in. The Bajoran had climbed to the top of the pile to ensure that it was relatively stable, and now he worked at clearing the debris, lifting the heaviest rocks. Natima scooped dirt back into the tunnel with her hands and feet, ignoring the resultant scratches. As they worked, the palm beacon began to flicker.
”Will we be able to continue doing this in the dark?” Natima asked. Her voice sounded hollow against the cold, wet ground all around them.
”Let's just worry about what we're doing, all right?”
”But we should think about it before it happens, so we can formulate a plan.”
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