Night Of The Wolves Part 16

"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.

Taryl shook her head. "No," she said slowly. "There's no way to know what kind of opposition we're facing."

"Does it matter?" Sten asked.

Taryl shook her head. "No," she whispered. She edged a little closer, hesitant, looking at her scanner again.

"Maybe-" Tiven didn't have time to finish his thought, for a tight line of gray-armored soldiers had abruptly sprung up behind the wall, less than thirty paces from where they now stood, and each soldier carried a ma.s.sive rifle. The volley of simultaneous fire erupted in a single, terrible, impenetrable barrier.

Lenaris's rifle was in his hands and he was spraying fire before he even had time to register what had just happened. His ears roared with his own heartbeat. He was only partially aware of the shots that originated somewhere at his side; presumably Tiven, but Lenaris only saw the ugly, reptilian faces in front of him, watched as they staggered and fell, one by one. He fired, fired again, and retreated, crouching back into the alien bushes.

The soldiers who had not fallen returned fire, though they did not advance beyond the low walls of the facility, only continuing to shoot like a single unwavering, mechanical ent.i.ty, the same formation that Lenaris recalled they had often taken when on Bajor; if they were not advancing, it meant there were probably more of them, to replace those who fell. The shrieks from their phasers tore up the ground in blasts of cloudy, choking black dust, the blasts of fire erupting in perfectly timed staccato. It did not take long to confirm to Lenaris that there were indeed more soldiers coming; he heard their phasers before he saw them, marching forward from somewhere beyond the gates of the facility to fill in for their fallen comrades.

Lenaris took the briefest second to survey their own casualties. Delle was nowhere in sight. Sten's foot was visible a short distance away, poking out from beneath the brush ahead of him, but Lenaris could not gauge if he was alive or dead. Crea was dead, crumpled in the dirt. The Legan brothers were firing wildly in tandem. Tiven also continued to fire, and Taryl, ducking behind insufficient cover, clutched her bag anxiously, her expression wide-eyed with the fear of first combat.

"Go, do it!" Lenaris shouted to her, and she quickly snapped into action. She chucked the palm-sized slap packs with all her might, one after another as he continued to fire, covering her. More soldiers fell, but it was not enough.

"Tiven!" he shouted, risking a look in the old engineer's direction-and he saw that Tiven was on the ground, the upper part of his body a blackened ma.s.s, still smoking from the impact of Carda.s.sian disruptor fire. Lenaris changed his position, continuing to fire. He still could not see Delle, and Sten appeared to be frozen behind the patch of bushes where he hid. One of the Legans had used up his power cell and was retreating, his brother continuing to fire methodically.

Lenaris made his way to Sten. "Go go go!" he screamed, firing over the other man's shoulder, and Sten jerked into action, das.h.i.+ng forward just far enough to pluck the phaser rifle from Tiven's corpse. With a cry, Sten discharged Tiven's phaser at the line of spoonheads, until there were no more standing. At least, none that they could see.

"Delle!" Lenaris cried out, but Taryl stopped him, her expression tortured as she shook her head. Sten had fallen to his knees next to his cousin's unmoving body. It had all happened too fast, was still happening. There was only a beat of ringing silence before they were made aware of more fire heading their way. Another line of identically dressed soldiers had just emerged from somewhere unseen, and there was no way of knowing how many more were waiting to replace these.

"Sten, your pack!" Lenaris shouted. The other man looked down at the satchel still slung around his shoulder as if he had forgotten it was there, and without wasting another second he pitched the explosive devices back at the camp-larger than those Taryl had used, meant to finish off the camp once they were done here-and it seemed to Lenaris that they were indeed done here.

The Legans had already retreated, both their phasers having run dry. "Let's get the kosst kosst out of here," Lenaris ordered, and Taryl and Sten followed his lead, stumbling back through the squat trees, gasping, running for the shuttles. Lenaris sidestepped, firing back at the camp, hoping to the Prophets that they hadn't been flanked. out of here," Lenaris ordered, and Taryl and Sten followed his lead, stumbling back through the squat trees, gasping, running for the shuttles. Lenaris sidestepped, firing back at the camp, hoping to the Prophets that they hadn't been flanked.

Powdery dirt and alien vegetation flew up beneath their boots. Taryl tripped and Lenaris s.n.a.t.c.hed at her arm, yanked her after him, his head pounding as the first of the explosions tore through the thin air. Behind them, soldiers shouted, but they hadn't broken formation to give chase until it was too late. Sten and the Legans reached their raider first, and Lenaris pushed Taryl to hers before scrambling toward his own, blood thundering in his ears, expecting to feel the fatal blast to his back as he climbed into his vessel, his skin and muscles trembling in antic.i.p.ation of it.

There were more explosions from the camp, one so big that it could only be the power station, a lucky hit. He fired up the raider, talking to himself, his voice a thready whisper as he frantically studied the sensors.

"Go, go, move..."

The instant he saw that Taryl was off the ground, he tapped himself into the air, imagining he could feel blasts of heat from the burning camp, pus.h.i.+ng him toward the stars as he slammed on his comm.

"Halpas! We're running! Get ready to go to warp!"

If the Carda.s.sians had flyers, they were too preoccupied with their camp to come after the Bajorans. The brief fly time seemed like an eternity, Lenaris trying to catch his breath, sure that each second would be his last. A bright-hot blast of light, a single pulse from a patrol s.h.i.+p's disruptors, and he'd be so much debris, blowing silently through icy s.p.a.ce...

The carrier was waiting. Lenaris came in right behind Taryl, with Sten and the Legan brothers bringing up the rear. The bay's hatch clamped shut behind them, and Lenaris felt a quick jerk just before the inertial dampers kicked in and the old Bajoran s.h.i.+p went to warp. He clambered out of his raider, huddling against the cold, stumbling toward Taryl's craft. Taryl was still sitting in her c.o.c.kpit, crammed in beside the Legans, who both looked to be in a state of shock. Taryl's head was down on the instrument panel.

Lenaris lifted the hatch, the fear finally hitting him.

"Taryl, are you all right? Are you hit?"

Taryl gasped once, twice-and started to cry, deep, rending cries of heartbreak that echoed through the dim, cavernous bay.

"Lac," she wailed, and Lenaris tried to hold her, but it was as though he wasn't even there.

11.

Dukat was fuming as he tapped off the comm. The facility in the Pullock system had been badly damaged, and a good many Union troops were dead. He'd thought he'd been sufficiently cautious, sending soldiers to the work camp on Pullock V to oversee the execution of the prisoners there, which included the terrorist who had been apprehended at Derna-the man had given up plenty in the interrogation, confirmed that he'd tried to send word back to his friends. But even with that lead, Dukat had underestimated the Bajorans once again.

He sat back in his chair, his mood black. The average Bajoran's quality of life had improved dramatically since his rise to the office. He had promoted better health care, encouraged work-training programs, allowed them religious freedoms that they had no right to expect, and this is what they gave in return.

He started to call for Damar, but then remembered that the gil had gone to the surface; his betrothed had gotten herself into trouble, another hostile incident with a Bajoran terrorist.

Dukat templed his fingers, considering his next move. He did not particularly care to admit when he had made a mistake, but he knew that on very rare occasions, it was the best course to take. A change in tactics was required. He summoned Ba.s.so Tromac to operations, deciding how best to tighten the reins as he waited for the Bajoran to appear.

"You called for me, sir?" Ba.s.so stepped into his office not five minutes after being called. One thing to be said for Ba.s.so, he was punctual.

"I need you to deliver a message to Kubus Oak," Dukat said.

"Right away, sir." Ba.s.so slid a padd from his belt, fingers poised to record. "What message?"

"Inform Kubus that I am inst.i.tuting new policies on Bajor, effective immediately. It will be up to him to be sure that the word is spread across his world. My men will be on hand to enforce these directives."

"Yes, sir," Ba.s.so said, suddenly sounding a little uneasy.

"Chief among them: no more religious counsel allowed in the work camps. In fact, we need to even the playing field for religious officials in general. I've allowed your priests a certain amount of leniency up to now, but I feel it is time for them to earn their keep, just like everyone else. All religious officials will receive work code numbers. And I believe we will be dismantling some of the monasteries. It is common knowledge that resistance members hide in them."

Ba.s.so was tapping away at his padd, his expression revealing nothing, but Dukat could see him swallow, hard. He was as superst.i.tious as the rest of them, of course.

"Additionally, I am lowering per-month food allowances. And I am tightening restriction boundaries in Relliketh and Dahkur. I will post the specifics on the comnet."

"Yes, sir," Ba.s.so said. "Will that be all?"

Dukat nodded. "For now," he said.

Ba.s.so left him, and Dukat looked over transmission reports, trying to find the record from the patrol s.h.i.+p that had reported the balon shuttles in the Pullock system. He was having trouble locating it and became frustrated, considering that this was the type of thing for which he usually relied on Damar. Dukat muttered a curse at Damar's fiancee. Women could be so troublesome.

Dukat gave up on the transmissions and spent a few moments drafting his new directives, then uploading them to the Bajoran and Carda.s.sian comnets. He then sent copies to the appropriate parties of interest-Legate Kell's office, the guls who oversaw surface operations. Dukat didn't bother himself overmuch with the details; what mattered were the bold, broad strokes. This would stir the rebels, make them reckless. His soldiers on the ground would make quick work of them, some small justice for the tragedy of Pullock V.

Hours later, he began to feel the intense solitude of command taking its toll. There was one other person who was adept at listening to his troubles, who might be able to ease his mind.

As he entered her quarters, he was immediately aware of Meru's posture. She sat on the bed with her back to the door, her head bent as she gazed down at her hands, her fingers twisting in her lap.

"Meru," Dukat said, wondering if she had already heard about the new directives. He looked to her companel. The screen was dark, but she had probably been at it, where she pored over the comnet reports on those days when she wasn't painting pictures or reading what pa.s.sed for literature among Bajorans. The holosuites had never interested her, though Dukat had done his best to try and encourage her to use them.

"h.e.l.lo, Skrain," she said, her voice hollow.

Dukat frowned. It was unusual for Meru to act this way. Even though Dukat knew she wasn't always entirely happy, she almost always managed to put on a convincing smile for her lover-it was one of the reasons Dukat had kept her around this long.

Dukat sat down on the bed behind his mistress, touching the back of her bare neck. He nudged away the few tendrils of hair that grazed her skin, having worked themselves loose from the arrangement on top of her head-similar to how a Carda.s.sian would wear her hair, but especially striking on the delicate-featured Bajoran. "Is something troubling you, my dear?"

She shook her head, but she continued to avoid his gaze, and Dukat began to feel annoyed. She was acting a bit like a petulant child. He would find no solace from his worries here.