Night Of The Wolves Part 7

Taryl continued to clang around inside the maintenance conduit while Lenaris held the palmlight, waiting for her next order and letting his mind wander. "Holem," she said, jerking him out of his daydream, "I need you to hold this guide wire while I solder."

Uncertainly, Lenaris stuck his head and shoulders inside the opening of the maintenance conduit. Taryl was forced to straddle his torso, the conduit much too small for the two of them. He took the wire from her fingers while she soldered the exposed portion in place, holding a small sylus-sized light in her teeth. He could feel his heart pounding as she worked, all too aware of her thighs encircling his waist, and he willed his pulse to quiet itself; he did not want her to know just how much it thrilled him to be in such close proximity to her...

"What the kosst kosst is going on here?" is going on here?"

Lenaris dropped his palmlight and quickly ducked out of the conduit; the voice belonged to none other than Aro Seefa.

"Seefa!" Lenaris exclaimed. "I didn't even hear you."

Seefa ignored him. "I've told you and told you how dangerous this is. I knew your fool brother was still committed to wasting his time with this heap, but you?"

Taryl hopped smoothly out of the conduit. "Calm down, Seefa," she said. "I'm only having a look around." She lowered her voice. "I'm humoring my brother a little. This thing's a lost cause, of course."

"You shouldn't even be here," Seefa growled, but much of the anger had gone from his voice.

Taryl stroked his arm. "I know," she sighed. "But you know how persuasive Lac can be..."

Lenaris wished he were invisible, and to a degree, it seemed as though he was, to Taryl and Seefa. They often seemed to forget his presence-or that of anyone else-when they were together. He found it increasingly difficult not to resent it a little, especially since he secretly felt that his rapport with Taryl transcended her superficial relations.h.i.+p with her fiance. But he couldn't let himself think like that. It would only cause trouble.

In very little time, Taryl seemed to have Seefa almost thoroughly appeased, though he still demanded that she come back to the settlement with him. "If you've got any sense," Seefa said to Lenaris, "you'll come along with us. And make sure you don't leave any tools behind. It's bad enough to leave evidence of our presence here, but I guess if the Cardies think we're stripping the s.h.i.+p for useful materials, that's one thing. It's another thing to let them get the idea that you might be trying to get it airborne."

"Right," Lenaris said tersely, picking up tools. Seefa and Taryl climbed the ladder from the engine room to the c.o.c.kpit, and he was alone.

Feeling hopeless, Lenaris glanced at the schematic Taryl had been using. She was trying to put the auxiliary power core back online, a fairly simple affair for a trained, D'jarra D'jarra-born engineer, but for a self-taught farmer from Tilar, perhaps somewhat beyond her abilities. And yet, Lenaris could see from what Taryl had been up to that she was at least on the right track. But fixing the auxiliary system and fixing the warp reactor were two very different things. If only Lenaris had really been able to find Tiven Cohr, or any experienced engineer-someone who had worked on warp s.h.i.+ps before the Carda.s.sians had come. That necessary expertise was in grave danger of being lost to Bajor forever. The Carda.s.sians had put restrictions on such information, and it could be preserved only through word of mouth, the older generation to the younger. But constant violence, disease, and poor nutrition didn't make for the greatest life expectancy. Bajorans who had been adults before the occupation were becoming scarce.

Lenaris removed himself from the exposed c.o.c.kpit of the half-buried vessel and clambered down the slope that had been created by the still-buried wing. He headed back toward the village, wondering if Lac had been having much luck with the latest attempts to reach another cell in Hartis province-to plan tandem attacks, and maybe even to get another lead on an experienced warp engineer.

Lenaris greeted a few of the Ornathia cousins and their spouses as he approached the settlement. They were fetching water to be brought back to the village; there still hadn't been any proper wells dug in this region, most of the Ornathias having traded their plows for coil spanners and phase inductors. There were over twenty small s.h.i.+ps of various types in the Ornathia fleet now, most of them hidden beneath natural overhangs of kelbonite that occurred along the mountains just beyond the old mining site. The s.h.i.+ps all required constant maintenance, but many of the Ornathias had proven very skilled in keeping up their craft.

Lenaris found Lac at a small corner work table that was set up in his little cottage. Lenaris had built his own dwelling, just a few paces from Lac and Taryl's house, but when in the village, he spent most of his waking hours here, with Lac.

Lac turned quickly when Lenaris drew back the rough door. "Holem!" he said excitedly. "I think these long-range transmitters are going to be ready sooner than we thought!"

"That's great, Lac," Lenaris said, "but that doesn't mean we should rush the Derna mission. We still need a legitimate Bajoran flight pattern to cover us. We don't want to underestimate the patrols coming out of Terok Nor."

He gestured at the roof of the cottage, referring to the orbital station that drifted far above them, visible as an ominous, winking star in the night sky. Every Bajoran was well aware of the heightened Carda.s.sian security that had been falling into place since the station had gone online, a year before.

"Terok Nor is just another reason for us to push harder," Lac said firmly. "We have to raise our game, take bigger risks."

"Like the warp s.h.i.+p," Lenaris said.

Lac nodded, and the two friends smiled at each other, agreeing without words.

Joer Varc smoothed back his unruly shock of hair, the color of the sand dunes of Carda.s.sia's nearby Cuellar region. It had once been a sensitive topic for him, the unusual color of his hair. In all his life, he had probably encountered only three other light-haired Carda.s.sians, and the distinction had been considered a handicap for him when he had trained for the Obsidian Order. But he believed he had proven himself to be more than just a standout in a crowd, and though it had occasionally been suggested to him that he should darken it, so as to "blend in," he had resisted mightily. His hair was part of who he was, and to a degree, he liked the idea of being remembered for it.

He headed to his debriefing with near unwavering confidence, eager to begin his preliminary report. This had probably been the easiest and most successful mission he had ever accomplished. From now on, he was going to jockey for more a.s.signments on Bajor.

This was the second debriefing he had attended this week; the first had occurred yesterday, with the Carda.s.sian military. Varc's cover was as a military glinn, and he was obligated to perform duties just like any other military drone, though his promotion to glinn came through in a miraculously short time, and his s.h.i.+p a.s.signments never lasted longer than a month or two. Nearly every s.h.i.+p in the fleet included an operative from the Order, and each one had to take meticulous care that his or her cover was never blown.

He quickly found the office of Limor Prang, and the door slid back so that he could enter. The older man sat behind a desk so large and so ancient, it seemed to be a permanent fixture in the room. But Varc knew it was actually a recent addition; this office changed location almost as frequently as Varc himself changed a.s.signments.

The old man's expression revealed nothing as Varc entered the room. Prang addressed him by his code name, something he did not always do when the two were in private. "Ah, Mr. Kieng Kieng. You look confident," he remarked. Prang looked as though he was going to say something else, but Varc, excited, seated himself and spoke before Prang could continue.

"In fact, I am feeling confident, Limor. I obtained considerable intelligence from my latest target."

"Really?" The gaunt old man across the desk appeared distracted, glancing at something over Varc's shoulder for a moment before focusing back on Varc, who was fairly bursting with his good news.

"He confirmed that most Bajorans continue to abandon their castes. There is a religious leader who has begun to advocate for it, despite the pressings of the kai. He also confirmed that the resistance is gaining considerable headway in his region, and he gave me several names. He was very specific. Those will all be in my final report." He could not resist boasting. "I saw to it that his small daughter was in the room with us-he was quite preoccupied with her safety. It made him especially eager to answer my questions."

Prang did not smile, but he almost never smiled. "I'm pleased that you enjoyed yourself, Mr. Kieng. However-"

Varc antic.i.p.ated his comment. "The man did not survive the interrogation. But it is of no consequence, for I still gleaned everything that was asked of me."

"I shall decide if the man's death is of consequence, Mr. Kieng. Meanwhile, your personal comm chip has the details of your new a.s.signment. You will board a s.h.i.+p leaving for the border territories in approximately four hours." shall decide if the man's death is of consequence, Mr. Kieng. Meanwhile, your personal comm chip has the details of your new a.s.signment. You will board a s.h.i.+p leaving for the border territories in approximately four hours."

"The border territories? Oh. Yes, sir."

Prang did something unprecedented then, continuing to glance over Varc's shoulder, probably at the timepiece on the wall. He smiled slightly, an expression that Varc was sure he had never seen before. Varc wanted to turn to look at what the old man could possibly be so amused by, but he felt it would be impudent.

"You sound disappointed," Prang remarked.

"Oh, no, sir-certainly not! It is only that I felt my expertise with the Bajoran people might be of further use there."

Suddenly, to Varc's great astonishment, he heard a voice somewhere behind him. He whirled around.

"I find it somewhat distasteful to interview Bajorans," the man behind him said. He was standing very near the wall, and he had been so eerily silent and motionless that Varc would never have imagined there was anyone there at all. Limor Prang had obviously known of the stranger's presence all along.

"And why might that be?" Prang inquired, as if it were completely ordinary for a confidential debriefing to be attended by a third party who had not even bothered to make his presence known. Varc was embarra.s.sed and fl.u.s.tered that he had not seen the man.

The man's eyes were held open very wide as he spoke, conveying a sense of extraordinary eagerness. Varc found his expression disquieting, particularly the slight curl at the corners of his mouth that did not straighten when he spoke. "They appear to wither so easily, but in truth, I have found them to be very skilled at lying. Surprisingly so, really. They will often allow themselves to die before the truth is ever revealed. Torturing them is useless, and in the end, I'm actually left feeling a bit sad about the whole business."

Varc was dismayed at this admission, for it seemed to be an acknowledgment of weakness, but Prang's reaction was dispa.s.sionate.

"Now, a Carda.s.sian interrogation-" the man went on, "there's a challenge I can appreciate."

It was Varc's turn to dispute. "I find the interrogation and torture of my own countrymen to be far more distasteful than that of aliens who conspire to destroy the Union."

The stranger continued to half smile. "Indeed. Except that if a Carda.s.sian is a dissident-a traitor-then I can hardly regard him as a countryman. He is far worse, in my eyes, than any hostile alien, who likely retains loyalty to his own society's values."

Varc considered his reply, but to his great relief, Prang finally spoke up. "That's quite enough, Mr. Regnar. We can finish this report without you."

The slight smile still on his face, the man left the room as silently as he had been standing in it. Prang turned to Varc, clearly amused.

"I apologize for Agent Regnar's presence here. We were just finis.h.i.+ng up his debriefing when you entered, you see. You began speaking before I could properly introduce the two of you."

"Did you hear the way he talked to me?" Varc said, outraged.

"I would advise you to avoid tangling with that one," Prang said. "They are already calling him one of the Sons of Tain."

Varc was more irritated than ever at this news, but knew he would do best to follow the old man's advice. Those agents who had fallen under the direct tutelage of Enabran Tain, the head of the Obsidian Order, were often referred to as his "sons." If this agent was indeed one of them, then it wouldn't matter what Varc, or any other agent, thought of him. It only mattered what Tain thought.

OCCUPATION YEAR TWENTY-ONE.

2348 (Terran Calendar)

5.

Lenaris was never so happy as he was when he was piloting a craft, whether it was within the atmosphere or out in open s.p.a.ce. But right now, surrounded as he was by the seemingly endless vacuum of darkness, Bajor's night-side a vast black well beneath him, he felt his exhilaration heightened to almost dizzying effect. He felt...free. All the months of careful planning and preparation had been more than worth it.

A bubble of static surrounded an incoming transmission, and he remembered himself. He was not free. It was imperative that he stick to the boundaries of the flight plan until the crucial moment when Lac would take the plunge into Derna's atmosphere.

Lac's voice sounded light-years away, even though Lenaris actually had a visual on the fuel burn from his friend's tiny craft. "I'm not detecting any interference in our communication channel," "I'm not detecting any interference in our communication channel," he said. he said.

"Good," Lenaris said, at a loss for words. His exhilaration turned sharp, excitement changing to unease as the looming, skeletal figure of Terok Nor drifted closer into range. He'd had no idea what the station would look like, but of course this was it. The menacing curvature of the arms, arching possessively over the top of the structure like the bleached-out rib cage of a corpse-it could only be Carda.s.sian in design. Lenaris suppressed a shudder, and continued carefully on his course.

It was a simple enough exercise to fly their small s.h.i.+ps around within the atmosphere-the Carda.s.sians didn't seem to pay much attention to Bajoran comings and goings, and when they did, it had been established that their overpowered s.h.i.+ps lacked the agility to chase a sub-impulse raider in atmosphere. But the raiders' capabilities in s.p.a.ce were far less certain. The cell had only made a very few offworld excursions, and it had not yet been determined exactly how safe it was to be flying around in these tiny, vulnerable craft-they could withstand s.p.a.ce travel, but they hadn't been built for prolonged voyages. The danger was made even greater by the fact that, without more sophisticated scanners than they currently possessed, the raiders had no means to detect each other except by comm.

And of course, there were the Carda.s.sian patrols...Mustn't forget those.

"Target is in sight," Lac reported. Lac reported.

Moments later, they began to approach Derna, an una.s.suming gray satellite partially bathed in glowing reflection from faraway B'hava'el.

"I detect no patrols in the immediate vicinity," Lenaris informed his friend.

"I'm not finding any either," Lac relayed back. Lac relayed back. "I'm taking the dive in ten...nine..." "I'm taking the dive in ten...nine..."

Lenaris, in closer formation now, watched as Lac's shuttle suddenly broke away from the safety of the flight path. If there were any patrol vessels that they had missed...if Terok Nor just happened to be doing a sensor sweep at the wrong moment...But there was no evidence of Carda.s.sian presence, no nearby warp signatures, no Carda.s.sian transmissions coming through on the comm, adjusted for enemy frequencies. Lenaris drew in a breath and followed Lac into Derna's atmosphere.

He broke through without issue, weathering the resultant turbulence, holding to the flight yoke as he experienced the temporary sensation of freefall. The raider caught itself, and there was Derna stretched out in front of him, a dreamscape, mostly barren but for a thin, dry algae that covered the plains of endless rock. He concentrated on setting down, trying not to think about patrols, about Terok Nor.

Lac had set his raider down a few linnipate linnipates from Lenaris, nearer to the wreckage of the Carda.s.sians' ruined base, abandoned more than a decade earlier. He got out of his raider and began to unload the transmission equipment, while Lac a.s.sembled the components of a scrambler that would allow the high-bandwidth transmissions to escape the Carda.s.sians' notice.

The two worked silently, leaving behind their equipment and a narrow-band homing signal so that others could find it, should it ever need repair. Then, with a breath of poorly masked excitement, Lac brought the transmitter online.

Finished with their work, they stood for a moment, both searching the cold sky, Lac scanning for Carda.s.sian signals with an old tricorder. Satisfied that they were still alone, Lac gave Lenaris a definitive nod.

"Ready when you are," he said, and Lenaris walked back to his raider without another word.

He gave the engine a burst of fuel and prepared to lift off. He felt a vast relief-the hard part was over. Of course, breaking through Derna's atmosphere still posed some risk, but if they stuck to the same flight pattern they'd followed when they came through, the Carda.s.sians would never know they'd taken to the skies.

Lenaris was the first to exit the atmosphere, and he wasted no time retracing their path back to Bajor. His s.h.i.+p safely back on course, he was practically home free. His confidence mounted as Terok Nor's imposing figure fell behind him, but then he realized that Lac had not reported back to him after breaking free from Derna's atmosphere. He put in a call-and simultaneously saw an unfamiliar power reading on his instrument panel. A patrol from Terok Nor? His mouth went dry.

"Lupus 2, do you read me? This is do you read me? This is Lupus Lupus 7. 7. Lupus 2 Lupus 2-please respond."

Nothing but dead air.

Holem cranked his transmitter through seven different channels, repeating his request, until his panic finally convinced him to try an unsecure channel-one that the Carda.s.sians could easily pick up. He was desperate. "Lupus 2, please respond." Bajor was coming closer, but he didn't dare try to turn back, or even slow down. please respond." Bajor was coming closer, but he didn't dare try to turn back, or even slow down.

His comm crackled and he almost relaxed before he recognized the fragmentary transmission as Carda.s.sian. "Terok N...reporting...prisoner...ip...out." "Terok N...reporting...prisoner...ip...out."

Holem could scarcely breathe. He spun the s.h.i.+p's dials frantically, trying to pick up any other transmission, but there was nothing else. Bajor loomed ever larger in front of him, and he had to prepare for the heat and violence of re-entry.

Swallowing his terror, he clutched the flight yoke and shot his raider through the turbulence. He struggled to orient the s.h.i.+p once it broke through, struggled with feelings of shock and disbelief as he pointed the little raider in the direction of Tilar. There was nothing he could do. Lac was gone.

It had been a full day of study and prayer. Final services had ended, the late meal had been taken; Kai Arin was exhausted when he finally retired to his chambers, hoping to read a bit and go to bed, and the last thing he wanted to do was discuss Opaka Sulan with one of the vedeks. Especially Gar Osen. Vedek Gar had been very vocal in his opposition to Opaka's activities these past two years, ever since she had taken her son and left her stone cottage. Arin had publicly renounced Opaka's status as a vedek of the church, but he had not issued an Attainder, despite having threatened to do so. Vedek Gar had been trying to persuade Arin to make good on that threat ever since.

Of course, it was possible that Gar wished to speak of something else, he told himself when he answered the late-night rapping at his door, but the kai doubted it. And truly, it was just as well. He'd known for some time that he and Osen needed to speak; it could be put off no longer. Much as he did not wish it, the kai invited his old friend into the small library that served as his study chamber, trying to prepare himself for the conversation ahead.

Arin owed much to the vedek, owed his very life to him. When the old Kendra Shrine had been destroyed, Arin had tried in vain to save the Orb that had been housed there. He could still clearly remember stumbling through the smoke, the walls falling all around him, retaining the divine object his only thought. He would have died, but that Gar Osen had pulled him to safety.

Gar began before he'd even taken his seat, his tone pleading, his words coming rapidly. "Your Eminence, surely you are aware of the dwindling numbers of faithful who come to attend our services. Opaka's message is becoming widespread, not just in this province, but on all of Bajor. Others are spreading her teachings. Other vedeks, Your Eminence! You must denounce her words by formally Attainting her. You must stop this...this wildfire wildfire before it spreads any further." before it spreads any further."

Arin chose his words carefully. "The fire of which you speak has already consumed most of our world, Vedek Gar."

Gar was taken aback, as the kai knew he would be. "Your Eminence, what am I to conclude from such a statement? Surely you are not trying to tell me that you you now reject the now reject the D'jarra D'jarras? That you've...given up?"

Arin shook his head. "No, Vedek Gar. I have not given up. I have...reconsidered. In the two years since Opaka left, I have studied and prayed and thought upon her words. And I have come to see the power behind them. Bajorans are finally becoming free of the despondency that has plagued us for twenty years. They no longer see themselves as victims. They are fighting back."

"But of course you do not condone the fighting, Your Eminence. You must must not condone it." not condone it."

Arin was troubled. "I have begun to question many of my own beliefs, Vedek Gar. What you say is true...but our world has never known such a struggle, and I fear that if we cannot unite, we will be broken. A successful leader must be able to admit that he was mistaken."

"Yes, of course, Your Eminence, but you must tread lightly around this delicate matter-"

"Vedek, I should inform you that I mean to write a series of new sermons, with a very different message from what I have taught in the past. I will call for an a.s.sembly tomorrow, to announce the change."

"Your Eminence, I must-"

"I thank you for being such a valuable adviser to me over these many years, Osen," Arin said. "I will forever be grateful to you, for your counsel and your friends.h.i.+p. But I believe that for now, my closest adviser must be my own heart."

Gar's eyes flashed with anger. "Kai Arin, I believe you pay too much mind to false counsel, and not enough to the prophecies."

Arin felt a flash of annoyance. Had Osen just accused him of having a false heart? He gestured to an ancient book spread open on a kneehole desk behind him, an original printing of the Oracle of Spires, a collection of prophecies from long ago.

"Vedek Gar, I have studied the prophecies all my life. There are many verses that contradict what is said regarding the D'jarra D'jarras. You know as well as I do that it is possible to twist the meaning of these verses to suit one's own agenda. I will not be accused of picking and choosing among the prophecies in order to bolster a particular argument." Arin was aware that his hand had tightened into a fist. He consciously relaxed it, and continued. "The Prophets have fallen silent to me, but I know They watch over us still, and make Their voices known to those who would listen. When I see how Opaka Sulan's efforts have been rewarded, I see-I hear hear-what Bajor is telling me to do. And I believe it is time to listen."

Gar was speechless as Arin dismissed him. The kai was ambivalent as the other man left the small chamber, sorry for his old friend-Gar had been unwavering in his faith, in his reliability as an a.s.sistant and counselor. They had worked closely together for many years. But Arin had come to acknowledge that the old caste system was not serving them well, and as Opaka and others like her had spread their message, he'd felt the change in the air, a feeling of possibility possibility among the people that seemed like a kind of rebirth. Contrary to what he'd believed all these years, it had been far from injurious to morale for the people to leave their among the people that seemed like a kind of rebirth. Contrary to what he'd believed all these years, it had been far from injurious to morale for the people to leave their D'jarra D'jarras behind. He realized that what he felt was mostly relief, to finally admit to Gar what had vexed him so in recent times. Gar had always been the greatest supporter of the D'jarra D'jarra way. way.

He turned back to the book of prophecies he had been immersed in before Gar came to call. He found the verse he had been reading, and traced a finger along the line of text. The time of accord shall bring an Emissary, and the Emissary shall bring a new age to Bajor. The time of accord shall bring an Emissary, and the Emissary shall bring a new age to Bajor.