Part 16 (1/2)
”It's pointless to consider things that might might happen. I think we'll come to the end of this before the palm beacon gives out.” happen. I think we'll come to the end of this before the palm beacon gives out.”
”You think, but you don't know.”
The Bajoran stopped working for a moment. ”You certainly are preoccupied with foresight, for a Carda.s.sian.”
”What are you trying to imply?”
He went back to work. ”Do I need to imply anything? Your people came here to steal our resources, and you burn the ground after you. I hate Carda.s.sians, isn't that obvious?”
”Sure,” Natima said. ”And look where it's gotten you. Stuck in a tunnel with two civilian reporters. We'll probably suffocate in here.”
”We won't suffocate,” he said. ”These tunnels are old, the rock has s.h.i.+fted. There's a wide rift not a minute's walk from where we are, on the other side of this heap.”
Natima had nothing to say, she just continued to lift handfuls of rubble away from the blocked opening, and the Bajoran went back to work as well.
After a time, he spoke again. ”This is where I hid when my parents were killed,” he said. His voice was flat. ”The soldiers came to force them off their land, and I ran away. I probably would be dead, too, if I had stayed behind.”
”Ah,” Natima said. ”Your hatred of me has a point of origin.”
”Of course it does!” he spat. ”Every Bajoran you'll ever meet has a story like mine. Those who aren't orphans are widows, or they have lost children or siblings or friends. My story is so typical, there's hardly any reason to tell it.”
Natima was quiet, struggling with an unexpected surge of guilt. She knew she had done nothing wrong. And the Bajorans had willingly accepted the annexation; they should have expected to have to make some adjustments...But she also knew how she might have felt if someone had come to her home and told her she had to leave. Forced her to leave, if she refused.
If they had just cooperated...
She wanted to maintain as friendly an atmosphere as possible. If she could show herself to be open-minded, compa.s.sionate, perhaps he would listen to her when Damar came, turn himself in without a struggle.
”Did you grow up in an orphanage?”
He shook his head. ”No. We aren't like Carda.s.sians, leaving their children behind. Bajorans keep their children out of those foul places, if it can be helped. I was taken in by relatives.”
Natima bristled at what he had said, mostly because she knew it was true. She sat back from the pile of rock, clasped her sc.r.a.ped fingers tightly. ”I'll have you know, I don't agree with the practice of leaving Carda.s.sian children behind in orphanages. The trouble with people like you, you view Carda.s.sians as if we were one person, with one opinion. We don't all agree on every aspect of our culture.”
The Bajoran frowned, but said nothing. He continued working.
”I've seen plenty of Bajoran children in the orphanages,” she added, ”so don't try to pretend that the Bajorans are above leaving their children to fend for themselves. Usually, they are children of those who cooperate with the government-children who have done nothing wrong, and are left to pay the debt of their parents by people like you.”
”People like me!” me!” he exclaimed, but before he could finish, a stream of fine gravel spilled from the top of the heap. He leapt forward and grabbed Natima, s.h.i.+elding her body with his own. ”Watch out!” he shouted. he exclaimed, but before he could finish, a stream of fine gravel spilled from the top of the heap. He leapt forward and grabbed Natima, s.h.i.+elding her body with his own. ”Watch out!” he shouted.
A few of the larger rocks s.h.i.+fted, but nothing came down. She and the Bajoran pulled back from each other, both of them catching their breath from the scare. Natima stared at the man, confused. He had acted to protect her, after taking her hostage. What a complicated people these Bajorans were!
”Did I hurt you?”
”No,” Natima told him, fl.u.s.tered. ”I'm fine.”
They heard a faint groan, echoing from the other end of the tunnel.
”Veja's awake,” she said. The Bajoran nodded, stood, lighting the way with his flickering light.
Natima tried to hurry, but the light was failing fast. The muddy, rocky ground beneath their feet had to be navigated by feel, the dark a palpable thing around them, closing in, and she was afraid. She spoke again as they walked, working to keep herself focused. ”The children in the orphanages-it's one of the few things that I have refused to censor about the annexation.”
”Annexation?” He laughed, a bitter sound. ”You Carda.s.sians are so skilled in the art of the euphemism.”
”What would you know about it?” Natima snapped.
”I have accessed your comnet before-I've read the reports you deliver back to your homeworld. Reports of happy Bajoran subjects, much-revered Carda.s.sian leaders, Dukat's favorable reputation among the Bajorans. No mention of the resistance, except perhaps to report exaggerated victories against them-victories which have been few and far between, I might add.”
Natima did not have time to answer, as they had reached Veja. She knelt beside her friend, the weak light showing them her mud-streaked face, tight with pain and fear.
Natima reached for her. ”It's all right, Veja. We're trying to find a way out. I'm so sorry to have left you alone in the dark, but we have only one light.”
Veja struggled to speak.
”Don't waste your energy. You need to rest.” It was the Bajoran.
”Get...leave...I'm...okay. Go...”
”No, Veja. He's right-don't try to speak.”
Veja shook her head and gasped weakly, gesturing back down the tunnel, the way Natima and Seefa had come.
”I think she's trying to tell us to get back to work,” the Bajoran said, and Veja nodded before closing her eyes again, the tension in her face lessening as she drifted back into unconsciousness.
Natima looked up at the Bajoran, who would not return her gaze. ”I'm sorry,” he said quietly. ”I never meant for anything like this to happen.”
Natima stood up and tried to brush dirt off her dress before realizing how utterly futile it was-she was covered in grime and muck from head to toe, and she would be getting a lot dirtier before this day was done. She could not accept his apology, not with Veja so badly hurt, but she felt a need to at least acknowledge its sincerity.
”A lot of things happen that have unintended consequences,” she said stiffly, and started back to the blocked entrance. The Bajoran followed, carefully lighting their way.
Lenaris and Taryl landed their respective s.h.i.+ps less than a kellipate kellipate from the prison camp. It was as close as they could get, considering the complicated web of defense arrays surrounding the camp. The atmosphere was breathable, but thin, and Lenaris's head started to throb almost as soon as he left his raider. The air smelled strange-not bad, exactly, just a smell that Lenaris had never known. The very unfamiliarity of it made his stomach clench. from the prison camp. It was as close as they could get, considering the complicated web of defense arrays surrounding the camp. The atmosphere was breathable, but thin, and Lenaris's head started to throb almost as soon as he left his raider. The air smelled strange-not bad, exactly, just a smell that Lenaris had never known. The very unfamiliarity of it made his stomach clench.
Lenaris and Delle met up with Taryl, who had ridden with Tiven, as the third raider thudded down. Sten and his cousin Crea leaped out first, followed by two brothers by the name of Legan, recent additions to the Ornathia cell. They were standing just beyond a patch of the strangest-looking vegetation Lenaris had ever seen-low trees with rounded leaves that appeared almost black in color, likely to compensate for the excessive distance of their sun. They provided good cover. If Pullock V had been a desert world, the operation would already be over.
”I read life signs,” Taryl whispered, looking at her handheld scanner. ”But I can't tell if they're Bajoran. It's the s.h.i.+eld-blocks out most of the signal.”
Lenaris nodded. ”Can you tell how many people are here?”
Taryl shook her head.
”Well, let's do it,” Tiven said, and unslung his phaser rifle. Lenaris nodded, unslinging his own. The Legans both carried handheld phasers, while Taryl and her cousins were carrying pouches full of improvised explosive devices: slap packs and shrapnel grenades-unsophisticated, but they did the job.
Lenaris could see that the others were nervous, never having faced Carda.s.sians in combat before. But he was too anxious and excited for his own sake to worry much about his companions' lack of experience. He felt that he was better at ground combat than just about anything else; he'd had a lot of practice when he had been in the Halpas cell with Darin. The two of them were so confident, they could have taken out an entire outfit of Carda.s.sian soldiers from the ground. Once, they'd destroyed a ma.s.sive bunker-just the two of them-and had done such a thorough job, the spoonheads hadn't even bothered to rebuild it. It was memories like this that Lenaris drew upon, scaffolding his courage, as the eight of them crept to the place where they expected the camp to be. They were always undermanned and outgunned-it was a fact of the occupation-but it was still possible to prevail.
As they edged closer to the Carda.s.sian facility, a large, modern-looking operation surrounded by a low wall, they could see no guards, and they could hear no sounds of movement. It appeared completely deserted. Lenaris's tension went up a few notches.
”Are those life signs any clearer?” Tiven asked.