Night Of The Wolves Part 5

"Yes, it's their way. They're a very irresponsible people."

Lenaris laughed at the understatement.

Taryl broke in. "But really, we're fortunate that they stripped out the minerals they wanted so quickly. When they deserted that mine, they left us to go back to farming as we had before. But with the irrigation systems the way they are now, most of us have to rely on the elements for watering our crops. The Carda.s.sians have their own system for delivering irrigation to the vineyards, but it's not sustainable. Some of us started trying to restore the ca.n.a.ls, but most of us feel that fighting the Carda.s.sians takes precedence over a convenient way to water the crops."

Lac grimaced. "The older generation, as I'm sure you can imagine, doesn't particularly agree with us. Which is why we don't spend a lot of time at our parents' farm anymore."

"The mining operation is near the village," Taryl explained, gesturing back to where they had come. "We followed the water, basically. Its most abundant flow is back where we built our houses."

"Does Seefa know where you are?" Lac asked his sister, and Taryl shook her head.

"He doesn't need to know where I am at every minute of the day," she said crisply. "So, Holem, do you know where this Tiven Cohr is, or not?"

Lenaris didn't care to discuss Tiven Cohr, but he wanted Taryl to think him agreeable. "I think so," he ventured. "I know a few people who could possibly have spoken to him recently. People from my old cell."

"What happened to your cell, anyway?"

Lenaris frowned. Much as he wanted to engage Taryl in meaningful conversation, he did not want to explain how the cell had broken up. "Just went our separate ways," he said vaguely.

"Yeah, but-why? If the rumors are true, you had some very skilled people working together. Why would you throw all that away?"

"I don't think he wants to get into it," Taryl's brother said quietly, and Lenaris looked to his friend-for he had come to think of Lac as a friend-with grat.i.tude.

"Is that it?" Lenaris said, pointing to some low foothills that were coming into view.

"Yeah," Lac confirmed. "She's right at the base of the smallest of those hills. They're riddled with kelbonite-the Carda.s.sians' scanning equipment doesn't work well here. It's how she's avoided their attention all this time."

No one spoke as they came upon the ma.s.sive s.h.i.+p, mostly buried in dirt and dense foliage. It was well camouflaged. Lenaris could see from the outline that it had been a mid-sized carrier. Someone, presumably Lac, had excavated part of one wing and a section of c.o.c.kpit that permitted access to the interior. Ground birds had nested in the gentle fall of rock covering the s.h.i.+p, spiders had spun their webs across the dark, jagged entrance holes; the vessel had a desolate feel, dead and abandoned.

"You've gone inside?" Lenaris asked, his heart thumping.

Lac nodded. "A couple of times," he said. "It's a little spooky in there...but I didn't find any bodies-at least, not yet. I think whoever was inside must have bailed out before she came down-I couldn't find any escape pods."

Lenaris started to clamber up the incline that led to the exposed c.o.c.kpit, Lac right at his heels, but Taryl hung behind.

"What is it?" Lenaris asked.

Taryl frowned and looked at her brother.

"You don't have to come in, Taryl," Lac said, sounding uncertain. "I mean-maybe you shouldn't have even come along, if-"

"No," Taryl said. "I want to come in. I just..."

"What?" Lenaris repeated, trying not to let his impatience show.

"It's just...I promised Seefa I wouldn't."

Lenaris looked to Lac for explanation, since Taryl didn't seem to want to elaborate.

"Seefa thinks-and some of our cousins as well-they think it's a bad idea to fool around with this s.h.i.+p. Besides thinking it's a lost cause, they're afraid the Cardies are going to find her. Once they've seen that she's been boarded recently, it's going to lead them straight back to the settlement."

Lenaris scratched his head. "Well, but...you're just farmers. You wouldn't pose any threat to them, just trying to find salvage out here to make your lives a little easier. They're not going to expect you to be trying to...to fix fix the thing, right?" the thing, right?"

Taryl's mouth twisted. "Lac and I agree with you," she said. "But Seefa and some of the others are worried that the Cardies will find out that we've been using balon to power our impulse and sub-impulse vessels-s.h.i.+ps that we aren't authorized to be flying in the first place."

"How would they-?"

"We've been shunting balon to the surface at a point near where the mining facility was abandoned-just a stone's throw from here, in a skimmer. If the Cardies were to find our laboratory, the place where we fuel our raiders-they probably wouldn't continue to underestimate our abilities so much."

Holem frowned. He could see the logic well enough, but he couldn't bear to simply ignore the warp vessel here, just waiting to be fully excavated and repaired. With a warp s.h.i.+p, they could finally regain access to Prophet's Landing, or Valo II, or any of the other pre-occupation Bajoran settlements. They could conduct a serious a.s.sault on occupying forces if they could network with other Bajorans outside the system. Maybe they could even organize an offworld attack.

That would surely make waves among the spoonheads, Lenaris thought, with a helpless grin. He avoided the persistent voice that told him he just wanted to have a crack at flying a warp vessel. This was for the resistance. For his people, his world. Lenaris thought, with a helpless grin. He avoided the persistent voice that told him he just wanted to have a crack at flying a warp vessel. This was for the resistance. For his people, his world.

"She's been here this long without being detected," Lenaris said. "I say the benefits outweigh the risks. Let's just have a look inside. If the damage isn't too bad, maybe we won't even need Tiven Cohr. I know a couple of things about simple flyer repair-if we just put our heads together..."

Lac didn't need any persuading, but Taryl lingered behind for another minute before she finally succ.u.mbed to what she really wanted to do, anyway, and followed them inside the s.h.i.+p.

Vedek Opaka had set about on this day to tidy and sweep the dust from her stone cottage. Fasil had offered to help, but she sent him off to be with his friends, to enjoy the weather. Summer had finally come to the valley, which meant both good news and bad for the Bajorans who called it home. More and more people went without proper food and shelter with each pa.s.sing year, and summer was a time for respite from the elements and the inevitably lean colder months. But the hot weather also meant more Carda.s.sian activity on the surface. Opaka knew that many of the local resistance fighters chose to spend the summertime in hiding, plotting their next moves for the winter, when the Carda.s.sian troops would again be at their weakest.

She'd learned as much from some of the people she'd been meeting. Opaka had taken the warming weather as her cue to begin meeting with the scattered groups of people in the valley who did not attend services: the elderly who could not travel far from their camps, the more cynical and despondent Bajorans who believed the Prophets had abandoned them, and of course the restless young people who had begun to live like nomads-many of whom fought in the resistance. These were the people, Opaka had decided, who most needed to hear the message. She'd begun to travel regularly to the camps on the outskirts of the village on days when her duties were light, speaking to whoever would listen. She didn't preach so much as try to make connections, to remind people that the Prophets were real and that Bajor had a future, and she had been pleased with the mostly positive reception.

She had changed the bedding, dusted and swept the result out the cottage's front door. She propped the door open and went to wrangle the wood-and-gla.s.s panel that covered the tall window near the roof, to air the cottage out. As she turned from the window, she started a bit when she saw the silhouette of a man standing in the doorway, backlit by the afternoon sun.

"Kai Arin," she said, bowing deeply. "You honor me with your presence. Welcome to my home."

"Thank you, Vedek Opaka."

"Please, sit." Sulan gestured to one of the turned-leg chairs at the wooden table in the center of the room.

Kai Arin sat and immediately began to make small talk, something Opaka had come to expect from the kai when he wished to calm himself. Obviously, he had something to tell her.

"You know...did I ever tell you...this house, many centuries ago...Kai Dava used to live in it. Did you know that?"

Opaka shook her head. "No, I didn't, Your Eminence. I suppose I knew that someone lived here...I mean, someone besides the porli porli fowl." fowl."

"It's true, or at least, so I'm told. In fact, it is rumored that before the old shrine was built, he kept the relics here, in this very house."

"You mean, a Tear was kept here?"

The kai looked away. "It's only a rumor, of course."

Kai Arin's faraway look spoke volumes. Eighteen years ago, he had tried to save the Orb of Truth, when the Kendra Shrine was destroyed. He had tried to save it, but he had almost died doing so. He had never spoken of it, but Opaka knew he carried guilt, remorse for choosing to save his own life over making every attempt to save the Orb. The Orbs-the Tears of the Prophets-represented a fundamental aspect of Bajoran spiritual life, the ability to connect directly with the Prophets. No one judged Arin for what he had done-no one but Arin himself. He was a spiritual man, and felt keenly the responsibilities of his service.

She quickly changed the subject. "There was a fire here, I was told, long ago..."

Arin spoke quickly. "Yes, it burned the roof off, and the dwelling sat vacant for some time. It was later converted into a springhouse, or something of that nature. It was a toolshed when I first came here, and then, as you say, it was a coop for the fowl, with a batos batos pen on the other side. Funny, n.o.body seems to keep pen on the other side. Funny, n.o.body seems to keep batos batos around here anymore." around here anymore."

"I suppose n.o.body can afford to feed them," Opaka said.

"Things are certainly different now."

Opaka nodded, recognizing that he was coming to his point.

"Vedek Opaka, I'm told you have begun to preach outside the sanctuary."

She breathed deeply, nodded.

"I commend you for wanting to bring your message to those who cannot or will not attend services, although that's usually left to monks in other orders besides yours."

"Yes, I understand, Your Eminence. I...was only following my heart. I believe this is what the Prophets wish of me."

"Perhaps you are meant to preach outside of the sanctuary, Opaka, but I don't believe that you are meant to spread dangerous ideas to people already impressionable in their unhappiness."

Opaka had nothing to say. She had known that it would eventually come to this, but not so quickly. She had not yet prepared a response.

"Vedek Opaka, it is our obligation to spread the words of the Prophets. And those words include the message of Bajoran tradition. It is not our place to reinterpret the Prophets' words to serve our own personal beliefs."

"But..." Opaka protested, "the D'jarra D'jarras have been reinterpreted many times, Your Eminence. The drivers eventually became pilots. The ceremonial healers became modern doctors. The-"

"What you are speaking of has been a gradual evolution of the roles within the D'jarra D'jarras, not a rea.s.signment of responsibilities for people who were born to perform specific tasks. I understand that many people have been forced to become idle under the current circ.u.mstances, but what I see is that those who reject their birthrights reject other teachings of the Prophets as well. They eventually begin to take up arms against the Carda.s.sians. The Prophets do not condone violence. They never will. And neither will I."

"Yes, Your Eminence," Opaka murmured.

"I'm glad you understand," the kai told her, and stood to leave. Opaka stood with him, gripping the back of a chair as they both stepped toward the door. But she could not let him go. She could not merely concede to him and pretend that she agreed, when she did not, and would not.

"Your Eminence, I do not condone the acts of the resistance, either," she blurted out. "But I believe that this is a time for Bajoran unity. Instead, what I see are angry and fearful people who have too much time on their hands and continue to mistrust each other because of age-old rules that no longer apply to the world we are living in. This has made us ripe for Carda.s.sian exploitation. Can't you see? Before we are D'jarra, D'jarra, we are Bajoran, and we are all Their children. We must come together, must decide together what we wish for ourselves, for our we are Bajoran, and we are all Their children. We must come together, must decide together what we wish for ourselves, for our own own children." children."

Arin did not speak, only shook his head.

"Kai Arin, I confess I did not realize that you truly believed there was still wisdom in clinging to the D'jarra D'jarras. I thought that perhaps you were using this as a means to distract our people from the misery they see all around them, to try and hold fast to some remnant of our original way of life. But now I see that you and I will have to agree to disagree."

The kai's expression was unhappy. "No. If you will not renounce your message, then I am afraid I cannot let you remain at the sanctuary. If you continue to preach it, your status as a vedek will be revoked. If you spread these words, Opaka Sulan, I will have no choice but to issue an Attainder."

Opaka tightened her hands around the back of the chair. The thought of being sent away from the sanctuary stung her; the thought of leaving this house, this comfortable existence, and being forced to live like those in the camps frightened her terribly. Fasil had friends here, they both did. And to be Attainted, expelled from the community of faith...

"'And by following D'jarra, D'jarra, the land shall know peace,'" he quoted, and gave her an encouraging smile. "I sincerely hope that you'll stay with us, Vedek. Your presence would be sorely missed." the land shall know peace,'" he quoted, and gave her an encouraging smile. "I sincerely hope that you'll stay with us, Vedek. Your presence would be sorely missed."

The kai left her. She sat down again, her heart heavy with the fearful understanding that things were about to change. The kai was not an evil man, but he was mistaken. She could only be thankful that the cold weather was past, at least for now. If they had to travel, it would be in the summertime.

Natima followed a short distance behind Veja and her betrothed, deeply regretting her decision to accompany her friend to the new s.p.a.ce station. Corat Damar was a typical Carda.s.sian male, arrogant and self-important, and could not have made it more clear that he resented her presence here; she silently cursed Veja for not having the foresight to tell her beloved that she'd planned on bringing a friend along. She looked dejectedly around the station as he gave them their tour, finding it to be dark and rather imposing with its broad and heavy cla.s.sical architecture. It was impressive, to be sure, but not really Natima's style.

Hundreds of Bajorans had already been brought in to work in the ore processors, and Natima was curious to see what went on inside the units, though Damar was reluctant to bring the women anywhere near the Bajoran section of the station. "It could be dangerous," he insisted.

"Veja and I are in dangerous situations all the time when we report on what happens on the surface," Natima informed him.

Gil Damar appeared disturbed. "The Information Service should know better than to send two young, unescorted women into places of danger."

"Oh, our superiors argue with me from time to time, but Veja and I can take care of ourselves."

Veja nodded. "It's true, Corat. You don't need to worry about us."

Damar looked sideways at Natima. "I'm not worried about her," he replied.

Natima shot him a look of loathing, but he had already turned his back to her and was guiding Veja toward the operations center, apparently not interested in whether Natima was coming or not. Unsure where else she might go, she elected to follow them.

"So, why does Dukat allow these Bajoran merchants to sell their wares on the station?" Natima wanted to know. "Doesn't that interfere with Carda.s.sian attempts at commerce?"

Damar did not look at her when he spoke. "The prefect wants to make the Bajorans more self-sufficient."

"Well," Natima snorted, "he isn't going to do it by allowing them to continue following their silly religion. I noticed there's a religious shrine on the Bajoran side of the promenade. I can't believe Dukat permits that sort of thing in a military installation."

"He has his reasons for everything he does," Damar told her.

"What do you know of his reasons?" Natima struggled to keep her tone even. Damar struck her as an ignorant toady, her very least favorite sort of person.

"I don't need to know them. Gul Dukat is a brilliant leader, and people like us can't be expected to understand the complexities of his plans."

Natima found his response laughable, but she kept her amus.e.m.e.nt to herself for Veja's sake. Her friend had already begun to look a little uncomfortable.

"So, what can we get to eat around here?" Natima asked brightly, changing the subject.

Damar shrugged. "There are replicators," he said.

"What this place needs is a restaurant of some kind."

Damar finally turned to face her, a look of distaste on his blandly handsome features.

"I'll be sure to pa.s.s your suggestion on to the prefect," he said, and turned away again, slipping his arm around Veja's waist. Natima decided that she might wait out the rest of the tour by herself, and fell behind to watch the two lovers as they continued down the Promenade. She approached a Bajoran merchant's shop to examine his strange wares, and wondered how badly the replicators here would foul up a cup of red leaf tea.

Miras had begun to wonder, in the last few weeks, if she shouldn't reconsider her final project. The images she had received from Natima Lang had provided her with only a few ideas. There were many, many captures of Bajoran farmland, some of it in active production, some barren and dry, and some entirely overgrown with weeds. Miras was fascinated by the obvious fertility of the world, but the lack of accessible hard data was making her quest for further information an exercise in frustration.

Kalisi had been more successful in her pursuits, having found a cache of decla.s.sified military files regarding weapon efficacy, and had decided to continue her original idea to study the weaponry used on Bajor. But Miras still wasn't sure if she should continue with her investigation into agriculture, for it had recently occurred to her that she would need at least one physical soil sample in order to make her project worthy of high mark. She wasn't sure if she could acquire such a sample at this late date, for the topic deadline was beginning to loom, and she didn't want to settle on a theme until she was certain she could gather all the necessary items.

Miras had been studying in her dormitory for most of an afternoon when she received a call from Professor Mendar. It surprised her not a little when she switched on the companel and discovered the image of her instructor staring back at her; it was unusual for a teacher to contact a student through a personal channel.

"Miss Vara, I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time."

"Not at all, Professor. I'm delighted to hear from you."

"Miss Vara, I think you will be further delighted when you hear what I have to tell you. I know you've been hoping to acquire a soil sample from Bajor, and I've thought of a means by which you might be able to do that without having to wait for a transport to bring one back from the planet."

"Really?" Miras was instantly hopeful.

"Yes. I just remembered, the Ministry of Science came into possession of a Bajoran artifact some years back. The artifact itself may not interest you much, but what I remember most about it is that when we opened the s.h.i.+pping crate, we were appalled at how filthy the container was. The artifact was caked with dirt. Of course, we cleaned it up when we made the initial inventory report, but I'm confident there is enough left in that container for you to get a viable soil sample."

"Oh, Professor, what a good idea! Thank you so much!"

"Our window of time is quite short, however. I've arranged to have the artifact sent up to a laboratory for a few hours. Can you meet me on campus at the east facility within the hour?"