“Surely your people must know of another way in,” Bashir said, suspecting the answer before the lieutenant gave it.
“Not yet, we don’t,” she told him. “We have people searching the area, but the truth is, there’s still too much we don’t know about the catacombs. If there were ever any maps of the tunnels, none have survived to the present day.”
“And no way to scan for them,” Bashir muttered, his growing frustration causing him to fidget even more. He’d been in contact with the station earlier. Lieutenant Dax and Chief O’Brien were working on the problem from their end, but the unusual attributes of the terrain were proving to be a difficult challenge. It appeared the commander and the major’s best hope was with these Bajorans.
The lieutenant offered Bashir an encouraging smile. “We haven’t given up yet,” she said, and moved off to rejoin the diggers and lines of people who were passing buckets of dust and broken stone from the ruins.
Of all the places to become lost, Bashir thought grimly, it had to be the one place on Bajor where all our technology is useless. For a fleeting moment, he considered the occurrence within the context of the Bajoran religion—what little he knew of it, at any rate—but then quickly shrugged off that particularly unscientific train of thought. Lives were on the line—perhaps more than the commander’s and the major’s—and mysticism wasn’t going to help here.
Kira was freezing. The walls were like ice, chilling the air for the wanderers. She had again fallen behind the little group, needing to put some distance between herself and Sisko, even if it was only a few steps.
Up ahead, Sisko and the children had stopped walking. She could see by Sisko’s light that the tunnel beyond branched off in several directions. As Kira approached, she heard Loral cry out excitedly.
“Major, we’ve found stairs! They lead up!”
Kira rushed to catch up, the only thought on her mind now the promise of escape.
Sisko angled his light at the crude stairs cut into the stone and smiled at her. “After you, Major.”
Kira began to climb, but realized as she ascended that something was wrong. She reached out with her hand to find the way blocked thirty steps up.
“The stairs are blocked,” Kira announced, pounding her fist on the stone. “We can’t get through this way.”
Sisko’s light punctuated her statement. Great boulders were wedged together overhead, the vestiges of a long-ago cave-in.
“I’m scared,” Loral whimpered. She began to cry.
“I’m cold,” Jek said. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself. His teeth were chattering.
“There are supposed to be several exits to the catacombs,” Kira said, trying to offer some comfort. “We just need to keep looking.”
“Yeah, right,” Jek snapped. “They’re probably all like this one. We’re going to die down here.”
“I don’t want to die,” Loral cried. “I want to go home.”
“You’re never going to go home,” said Jek. “You’re—”
“That’s enough of that,” Sisko said. His voice boomed against the stone. “We’re going to find a way out of here. It’s just going to take us a little while longer.”
“I’m sorry, Emissary,” the boy said. He choked up with tears.
Sisko perched himself on the steps between the two children. He wrapped each of them in a big hug, drawing them close.
“I want to get out of here just as much as you do,” he told them. “My son Jake is up there, and I want to see him again just as much as the two of you want to see your families.”
Kira sat on the steps above them, watching as Sisko comforted the children.
“Tell me about your families,” Sisko said. He nodded at Loral. “You first.”
“My father’s a doctor. He helps people when they’re sick.” She paused, and then she added, “My mother died during the Occupation.”
The acceptance in her voice wasn’t surprising, but it hit Kira harder than she expected. Having lost her own mother as a very young girl, and her father not long after that, she wondered how many of Bajor’s children had simply grown numb to what they’d endured during the Occupation.
“How about you?” Sisko asked Jek.
“The Cardassians killed my parents,” he said. “I was only a baby, so I don’t remember them. I live with my uncle in Singha and we’re in town to hear the kai’s speech.”
“I’m here for the kai’s speech as well,” Sisko said, “and I really want to hear what she has to say. So why don’t we stop sitting around here moping and find a way out of these tunnels?”
The children’s faces seemed to brighten somewhat. Loral took Sisko’s hand as she and Jek led him back down the steps.
Kira stared after them. She really wasn’t all that surprised to learn that Sisko was good with children—he had a son of his own, after all. What she hadn’t been prepared for was how easily he seemed to turn their despair into hope. And not just theirs.
When he reached the bottom, Sisko stopped and turned, aiming his light up at her. “Still with us, Major?”
Kira let out a long breath, then stood and brushed off her uniform before she started down the stairs. “Still with you,” she said.
“Jake. How are you doing?”
Jake Sisko looked up, startled. He saw Dr. Bashir’s face without recognition. He didn’t know the man, really. Only his uniform. I’m on a planet of strangers.
Rather than answer Bashir’s question, Jake asked, “Any news?”
Bashir sighed and sat down next to him on the grassy slope facing the library ruins. “They found Vedek Tanin. He’s dead.”
“Yeah, I know,” Jake said, his voice sounding hollow in his own ears. “Nothing since then?”
Bashir shook his head. “You okay?”
“No,” Jake said honestly. “I hate this place. I hate these people.” The ease with which the words came shocked him, but didn’t stop him. “I hate you, too.”
Bashir nodded. “Because I’m Starfleet?”
The question surprised Jake. He hadn’t expected Bashir to understand. Maybe he knew about Mom. Jake nodded, and in answer to Bashir’s question, he said, “That, and because you stopped me from going to him.”
“You might have died, Jake.”
“At least then we would have died together.”
“You think your father would want that?”
Jake shrugged. They sat in silence for a while, watching the rescue workers. Finally, Jake said, “I wish we’d never come here. Everything was fine at Utopia. Why did my dad have to take this stupid assignment? What’s the point of exploring if so many people have to die?”
Bashir held his breath for a long moment, and then let it out. “I don’t know,” he admitted. And then, as if understanding that he had nothing to offer Jake, the doctor got up to go. Jake told himself he didn’t care; he wanted to be left alone.
“I don’t really hate you, you know,” Jake said suddenly.
Bashir stopped and turned, offering him a small smile. “Yes, I know.” Then, as if an idea had occurred to him, the doctor opened his medical kit and took out a padd. He held it out to Jake. “I brought this along with me on this trip because I thought I might have some time to work on a medical paper. Why don’t you take it?”
“What for?” Jake asked.
“For you to write your feelings down,” answered Bashir. “Maybe it will help you to sort things out.” At Jake’s skeptical expression, Bashir added, “You don’t have to use it. Just keep it in case you change your mind.”
Jake accepted the padd, murmuring an insincere “thanks.” The doctor nodded and walked away.
Alone again, Jake resumed his vigil. His thoughts wandered aimlessly, taking him through a tangle of conflicting emotions. After a few minutes, he looked down at the padd in his hand and slowly, hesitantly at first, he began to write.
The ground was uneven.
Kira had felt the floor descending for some time now. She’d noticed the unfini
shed workmanship in this part of the catacombs and wondered if this section was newer than the rest.
As her attention lapsed, she took an awkward step and felt her ankle twist under her. “Ow.”
“Major?”
Sisko’s voice calling to her was followed by the beam of his handlight shining in her face. She winced and shielded her eyes with her hand. “Would you please stop doing that? You’re going to blind me.”
The glare turned aside. “Are you all right?”
“Twisted my ankle,” she said dismissively. “Nothing serious.” She took a single step on the treacherous ground and a jolt of pain shot up her leg. “Dammit.”
Suddenly Sisko was at her side, one of his arms around her waist, one of hers across his shoulders. He guided her toward one wall of the tunnel and eased her into a sitting position.
“We should try to get some rest, anyway,” he said. “This is as good a place as any.”
Loral and Jek stood on the edge of the light. They were shivering.
“Come on, sit down,” Sisko said to them. “It’s dinner time.”
He untied the bundle they’d carried from the resistance storeroom and took out four food packs, handing one to Kira and one to each of the children. Jek tore his open eagerly and had his food wolfed down in about ten seconds. Loral savored her meal, chewing slowly and trying to enjoy every bite. Kira saw Sisko cringe as he ate. “Not used to eating rough?” she asked pointedly.
Sisko looked at her. “Major,” he said, “I grew up in New Orleans.”
“Is that your planet?” Loral asked.
“No, it’s a city on Earth.”
“So?” Kira said. She had never heard of New Orleans, either, but figured that Sisko was trying to tell them how tough he had it as a child.
“They’ll eat anything in New Orleans,” Sisko informed her. “Slugs, raw oysters—just about anything you can imagine, especially if it’s fried or covered in hot sauce.”
Kira laughed in spite of herself. She hadn’t expected humor from him. But then, she’d known Benjamin Sisko for only a matter of days, and that really wasn’t enough time to make a fair judgment.
She began to realize that she wanted not to like him.
As silence settled on them once again, Kira’s thoughts turned to their earlier conversation. “You never answered my question,” she said.
“What question was that?” Sisko wondered.
“Are you embarrassed to tell me that you’re the Emissary?”
Sisko sighed and set down the food pack. “I’m not embarrassed,” he said. “I’m just not convinced that I am the Emissary.”
“So what do you believe?” Kira challenged.
Sisko hesitated, then shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Kira grunted. “I think we’ve finally found something we agree on.”
“Well, we also both want to get out of these tunnels,” Sisko said with a smile. “If we’re not careful, we may just start to realize how much we have in common.”
Kira shook her head. It was so much easier when she knew who the enemy was. Now, she wasn’t sure anymore. “I’ve been fighting for so long,” she said. “Everyone on Bajor—resistance is all we know.”
“That’s what you keep saying, Major,” Sisko said. “But we both know that isn’t true.”
“Excuse me?”
“Granted, I haven’t been here all that long,” he began, “but I think I’m starting to see the true face of Bajor. I see it in people like you, and Opaka, and Tanin, and in these children. I saw it in Ashalla, and in the Taluno Library. I see it even here in these catacombs. And when I look at all of that, I don’t see a people spoiling for the next fight. What I see is a unique and remarkable civilization with an astonishing history and a living, ancient culture that even the Cardassians couldn’t crush. I see a people that rightly cherishes its past, and yet is preparing to embrace the future.”
“A future with the Federation, you mean,” Kira said angrily, throwing down her food pack. “The Cardassians promised us a future when they came, too.”
“You can’t honestly believe that the Federation is anything like the Cardassians.” Sisko said.
Kira laughed bitterly. “Can’t I? All my life the people in power said that they were looking out for our best interests. They just wanted to do what was best for Bajor. Well, I think it’s high time that Bajor decided what’s best for Bajor,” Kira said, feeling her fists clenching at her sides.
“Some would say that Bajor did make that decision,” Sisko said. “It was the provisional government that invited us here.”
“Because they don’t have the vision to see that Bajor doesn’t need anyone,” Kira shouted. “Not the Cardassians, and not you.”
Sisko’s eyes narrowed. “Major. Ever since I arrived on Deep Space 9 I have tried to be reasonable with you. Now I see that it was a waste of time. All you seem to understand are the extremes—love and hate and nothing in between. You’re so used to fighting that you can’t stand peace.”
Kira was stunned. She had never seen Sisko so angry. His eyes were like two glowing embers; he stared into Kira’s eyes and wouldn’t break his gaze.
“You’ve fought for freedom your whole life. But now that you have it, you don’t know what to do with it.”
Kira snapped back to herself, freedom? This from a man who grew up in a house with both parents—a man who has never known what it was like to starve.
“How dare you?” Kira said, pulling herself to her feet. “You don’t know me ...”
“You won’t let me know you,” Sisko fired back.
“You think that you put Bajor on the map,” she shouted. “You found the Celestial Temple. You convinced the kai and half the planet that you’re the Emissary. Well, you haven’t convinced me.” Her eyes had narrowed into slits.
“I don’t believe in you,” Kira screamed.
Her voice reverberated off the walls, echoed down the corridors of the Paths of the Lost.
Loral and Jek shrank back from her, terrified. Kira turned away, limping down the tunnel into the darkness.
Sisko lurched forward and stopped in front of her, blocking her path. “Get the hell out of my way,” she snapped.
“No, you’re hurt,” Sisko said quietly. “Take my hand.”
Kira stopped, her blood hammering in her ears, her heart feeling as if it would pound its way through her chest. She looked at Sisko’s outstretched hand, up into his face, and suddenly felt as if she would sag under the weight of her own uncertainty.
And slowly, she reached out and took his hand.
Sisko gently helped her back toward the children. For their part, Jek and Loral clung to them both as they settled once again on the ground.
“Why are you two always fighting?” Jek asked, shivering as he leaned back against the commander.
“It isn’t nice,” commented Loral, who had put her head in Kira’s lap.
“We just don’t know how to talk to each other,” Sisko said, wrapping his arms around the boy. “Yet,” he added with a smile. “It’s all right. Try to get some sleep.”
Kira stroked Loral’s hair until the girl’s breathing evened out. Jek’s eyes began to droop, and in minutes, both children were asleep.
Kira studied Sisko’s face. “If you were just a Starfleet officer,” she said, “it would be easy for me to hate you. But you found the Temple. And Opaka ...”
Sisko looked down at the ground. “Major,” he said softly, “you say that you want what’s best for your people, and you told me earlier that the will of the Prophets is what’s right for Bajor.”
“That’s right,” Kira said quietly.
“And I don’t claim to speak for them,” Sisko went on. “But is it really your belief that isolating Bajor is what they want? That shutting out the universe is the only way for your people to find peace?”
Kira had no answer.
Sisko turned to her, his soft brown eyes questioning. “What exactly do you believe in, Nerys?”
The question still hung between them as sleep finally overtook Kira.
Dawn came to Ashalla.
Colonel Day sat in a dark corner of a café near the blast site and watched as another injured rescue worker was lifted out of the ruins, the third one since the operation started. Day had hardly slept all night, and was due back on-site in less than an hour. He had just taken a sip of moba juice when he heard some of his men talking at a nearby table.
“This is insane. No one could have survived all that. We’re putting ourselves at risk for nothing.”
“That’s what I told the colonel.”
“What did he say?”
“He said that the Federation doesn’t care how many of us get hurt, as long as they get their man back.”
“The Federation!”
“So we risk our lives for one of theirs? I didn’t see them lining up to fight during the Occupation.”
“I hear you. But the orders come from the top. What can we do?”
“I don’t like this. I don’t like this one bit.”
Day allowed himself a small smile. He didn’t like it either, but he had already decided that if he could use one old woman’s sick interest in an alien to help wake up Bajor to the Federation threat, it was worth a few broken bones.
The Paths of the Lost wound up and down through the endless stone. Sisko’s pulse was up, but he didn’t mind. He had always enjoyed a good walk first thing in the morning. Not that this was the ideal environment, but after sleeping on the bare rock last night he was happy to be doing anything besides lying down. Even Kira’s ankle was better, and the major was once again bringing up the rear. The children walked together between the adults, their chatter bringing a smile to Sisko’s face.
“I’m cold,” Jek complained.
“Me too,” said Loral. “Do you smell something?”
“I don’t know,” said the boy. “I think so.”
STAR TREK: DS9 - Prophecy and Change Page 5
