“Of course it was.”
“Really?” Altek asked. He did not sound argumentative, but curious. “Do you think you’ll never go to Shavalla?”
“Well, not never,” Keev said, “but certainly not right now.” She looked back down at the ground ahead of them, the dirt-and-stone surface rolling out beneath the beams of their beacons.
“I didn’t hear you say anything about visiting Ahleen ‘right now.’ ”
“It doesn’t matter,” Keev said. “You know what that little girl believes. She thinks I’ll be there to see her in just a few days.”
“Maybe,” Altek granted. “But she’ll also have a lot of other things going on. She may not even remember what you said, and even if she does, she’ll understand, either now or later.”
Keev shook her head. “I don’t feel good about it.”
“Well, you should,” Altek said forcefully. “You said what you had to say, did what you had to do, to get Ahleen to the next stage of her life—to the point where she’ll actually have a real life. And you saved her in the first place.”
“We saved her,” Keev said, more out of reflex than for any other reason.
“Yes, we did,” Altek agreed. “And yet you still don’t trust me.”
Keev did not reply. How could she? She wore her skepticism—about everything, including Altek—like a badge of honor.
“I understood it at first,” Altek continued. “We didn’t exactly meet under the friendliest of circumstances. But it’s been five months now. I think I’ve proven my loyalty to the cause and to the members of our gild. I think I’ve also proven my value.”
Again, Keev did not reply.
“I assume you’re not saying anything because you don’t want to deny your distrust, but we both know it’s true,” Altek said. “After all this time, after all I’ve done with the gild . . . it doesn’t make sense not to trust me anymore. I gave up a very comfortable life in Joradell for this.”
Keev seized on his last assertion. “It says something that you could be comfortable living in a city that enslaved people.”
Altek stopped. Keev did so as well. “I meant that I occupied a respected position in Joradell, that I owned a nice home and enjoyed a measure of wealth. Obviously, that wasn’t more important to me than the inexcusable injustice, the immorality of slavery. I relinquished my own personal comfort to fight for the greater good.”
“Not at first,” Keev argued. “At first, you kept your comfortable life.” After initially making contact with the gild, Altek had retained his position in the city.
“I did that so I could provide a resource to the gild within Joradell,” he said. In so doing, he had helped in freeing numerous Bajoran slaves. “You know that.”
“You only left the city when it seemed like you had no choice.” Keev’s voice had risen, and it resounded to her from the cave walls.
“When it ‘seemed’ like I had no choice?” Altek said. “I saw the condition that Ahleen was in when they brought her into the hospital, and later, how the local prefect looked at her. I risked lying to keep her overnight for more medical tests so I could get a message to the gild, and then even though I was detained at the hospital the next day until after the patrols had begun, I tried to get Ahleen out anyway.”
“And what would you have done if I hadn’t shown up?” Keev asked.
“Believe me, I didn’t expect to see you,” Altek said. “I hoped we would manage to get through the city without getting stopped by a patrol, but if we did get stopped, I had my own plan.”
“And what was your plan? Would you have killed those officers?” Keev asked, her disbelief evident even to her own ears.
“If I had to,” Altek said quietly.
“Really?”
“You’re not the only one with a wooden blade to avoid the Aleiran metal detectors.”
The assertion surprised Keev. She considered asking to see Altek’s phantom weapon, but she supposed that if she did, it would still prove nothing. Careful to keep an even tone, she said, “I’m just saying that your joining our gild could be a ruse specifically designed to build up our trust in you.” She paused, then added, “We’ve been fooled before.”
“I understand,” Altek said. “But you have to understand that it’s been five months, and I didn’t just join the gild. I left Joradell, I’ve helped get escaped slaves to Shavalla, I’ve treated the members of the gild for illness and injury. At this point, I know all of you, I know the places you set up camp in the wood, I know about the caves and how you get the escaped Bajora to freedom. If I were an Aleiran agent, you’d all be dead or in prison by now.”
“Or enslaved,” Keev said.
“Yes, or enslaved,” Altek said.
They stood quietly for a few moments, and then Keev began walking again. Altek fell in beside her. “So where do we go from here?” he wanted to know.
Keev shook her head. “Why does Veralla trust you so much?” she asked. “Why did he trust you the instant you arrived in our encampment?”
“He didn’t trust me the instant I arrived,” Altek avowed. “I’m not even sure he trusts me now.”
“He obviously trusts you now,” Keev said. “And he has from the very beginning.”
“No,” Altek insisted. “He didn’t trust me; he trusted Grenta Sor.” Keev recalled the name. Altek had used it essentially as an introduction after he’d run into the encampment.
“And who is Grenta Sor?” Keev asked. Immediately after Altek had arrived, she’d asked Veralla about the name. She thought that it might be a code of some sort that Altek had received from somebody, either willingly or by means of coercion. Veralla had deflected the question without answering it.
“Grenta Sor is a physician,” Altek said. “We worked together at the hospital in Joradell.” He paused, then said, “She’s also Veralla’s sister.”
Keev stopped in her tracks, shocked. “What?” She hadn’t known that Veralla even had siblings—or any living family at all, for that matter.
“Grenta Sor is Veralla’s sister,” Altek repeated.
Without warning, a loud noise filled the cave around them and the ground began to tremble. “What—?” Keev began, but then the shaking earth knocked her from her feet. Her beacon slipped from her grasp, sending distorted shadows capering wildly across the cave walls. Altek crashed to the ground beside her. Dirt and small pieces of stone rained down on them from the roof of the cave.
Keev scrambled back up, then helped Altek stand. She grabbed her beacon and shined it ahead, then tapped Altek on the elbow. “Come on,” she said. Keev ran, and Altek followed.
Another explosion shook the cave. It sounded louder and closer, not from farther along in the caves, but from within the rock above them. Keev steadied herself with a hand against the side wall, but she kept moving. So did Altek.
They rounded a corner together, and their beacons illuminated a long, straight passage before them. Keev recognized it and knew that it wouldn’t take them more than half an hour or so to reach the cave entrance. They ran on, but as they did, Keev saw a flash in the distance. Once they’d gotten closer, she discerned that a circular section of the cave roof had begun to glow, a great red flaw in the surface of the rock. It grew brighter and brighter as they approached it, as though building to a critical mass of color. “Hurry,” Keev called to Altek, and she realized that a loud hum had begun to infuse the cave. The sense of an impending explosion could not have been greater.
We have to get past it, Keev thought desperately. They could run in the other direction, retrace their steps to the far entrance of the cave system, but if the roof collapsed, they would be cut off from the gild unless they spent weeks circumnavigating the mountains—if cave-ins didn’t trap them inside before they could even get out. No, we need to get past that spot and out on the gild side.
They raced through the straight tunnel. The light from their beacons wavered rapidly along the cave surfaces as they pumped their arms. Keev could only hope that
they could make it safely past the flaming red portion of the roof.
They reached the location at a dead run. The third boom came from directly above them. Then the roof of the cave came crashing down.
Eleven
In the ’fresher, Chief Engineer Miles O’Brien studied himself in the full-length mirror. He didn’t really care for Starfleet’s dress whites—they accentuated the health of his appetite a little too much—but at least he didn’t find them as uncomfortable as previous styles. He quickly affixed to his left breast the commendations he’d earned from the Starfleet Corps of Engineers, then headed out into the living area of his quarters.
Crossing to the companel, he checked the time—both on the station and in Ashalla. “Come on, Keiko,” he said, hoping that he would hear from his wife in the few minutes before he had to leave. Anxious, he moved over to the replicator and tapped its activation pad. “Coffee, Kona blend, double strong, double sweet,” he ordered, then grabbed up the tall white mug that materialized. He took a moment to savor the heady aroma, then sipped noisily at the steaming brew.
O’Brien chuckled. “If Keiko were here, she’d tell me to drink my coffee like a human, not like a Klingon.” He missed his wife. Two years earlier, after he’d been assigned to help design and construct the new Deep Space 9 as its chief engineer, Keiko and Molly and Yoshi had at first remained on Cardassia, where the family had made a home for almost seven years.
They had initially relocated to Cardassia not long after the Dominion War, as part of the Federation’s endeavors to help rebuild the Union. While Keiko led an agrarian renewal project operated by the Interstellar Agricultural Aid Commission, a private organization that worked closely with the UFP, O’Brien left his professorship at Starfleet Academy and transferred to the SCE. Keiko’s original commitment had been for two years, but everybody in the family had quickly become very comfortable in their new home, and two years had stretched to four, and then to six.
O’Brien hadn’t been looking to leave Cardassia or the Corps of Engineers—although he’d traveled offworld on a number of assignments with the SCE—but Starfleet had transferred him to the Bajoran system after the destruction of the old DS9. O’Brien relocated first, allowing him and Keiko time to decide how best to deal with his new posting. In the interim, the proximity of Bajor and Cardassia permitted quick trips between the two, mitigating the family’s separation.
Two months later, Keiko had found an opportunity with the University of Ashalla on Bajor. She led a yearlong botanical analysis of flora collected during a research project into the jungles of Ver’laht, then re-upped for a second year. After so much time in the field on Cardassia, Keiko had enjoyed returning to the lab, and so she’d spoken to Captain Ro about prospects for work on the new starbase. With Starfleet preparing to launch a major exploratory initiative out beyond Bajor, and with a bevy of advanced scientific facilities being installed on Deep Space 9, the station had numerous civilian openings. Keiko accepted a position as chief botanist, though her term would not begin for another two months, after she’d completed her second year at the university. O’Brien looked forward to living full-time with his wife and children again.
He set his mug down on the dining table beside the replicator, then peered upward. “O’Brien to T’Lune.”
“T’Lune here.” During his absence from alpha shift that day, O’Brien had assigned one of his staff to crew the main engineering console in the Hub. “Go ahead, Chief.”
“I’m just checking in,” O’Brien said. “How are things looking?”
“All primary systems are up and running,” T’Lune reported. “We had a minor power fluctuation in one of the backup reactors during standard testing this morning. I shut it down and have a team working on it.”
“What about the other backups?” O’Brien asked. Eight mark-XIII fusion reactors powered Deep Space 9, with another quartet providing redundancy. Standard procedure included regular testing of the four backups.
“We executed tests,” T’Lune said. “Results were optimal.”
“Any idea yet of the problem?” O’Brien asked.
“Preliminary indications are a materials defect in one of the induction tubes,” T’Lune said, “but we haven’t yet completed our analysis.” O’Brien liked T’Lune and thought her a solid engineer, but the Vulcan always wanted to run one more diagnostic, perform one more test.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll probably be up to the Hub late this afternoon, depending on how long the ceremony goes.”
“Understood, Chief,” T’Lune said.
Before O’Brien could sign off, another voice spoke up. “Chief? This is Ensign Becerra.” Becerra, O’Brien knew, had taken over at the communications station for Lieutenant Viss, who, like the rest of Ro’s senior staff, would be attending the dedication. “You’ve got an incoming transmission from Bajor.”
“Great,” O’Brien said. “I’ll take it in my quarters. O’Brien out.”
By the time he made it back to the companel, a flashing indicator signaled the arriving message. He touched a control surface, and Keiko’s image appeared on the screen. She’d recently cut her black hair into a short, spiky style that made her look a decade younger than her fifty-two years. Through the window behind her, he could see people walking along a tree-covered quadrangle, telling O’Brien that his wife had made it back to her office. “Miles,” she said from where she sat at her desk. “My, don’t you look dapper?”
O’Brien glanced down at his stark white dress uniform. “I look like a nurse working a quarantine unit.”
“But a very handsome nurse,” Keiko said with a smile. “At a very fashionable quarantine unit, I’m sure.”
Miles laughed, a sound that came out somewhere between a chuckle and a grunt. “So how did it go?” he asked his wife. “Did they ooh and aah over your presentation?”
“They did,” Keiko said, visibly excited. “I think we really made the case to continue the research.”
“That’s wonderful,” O’Brien said. The University of Ashalla lacked the resources to continue the analysis of the Ver’laht samples that Keiko and her team had performed, and so they’d asked to present their findings to the Federation Department of Science in the hopes of securing the necessary personnel and equipment. “I knew you could do it.”
“I don’t think it was me as much as the number and variation of the new species that were found,” Keiko said, with more than a small amount of modesty. “But whatever the case, it looks like there’s a really good chance that the research will continue.”
“Congratulations,” O’Brien said. “Does this mean I might get you and the kids up here sooner?”
“Afraid not,” Keiko said. “The university will be lucky if they can get an answer by the time I leave, so they need me to stay for these last two months.”
“Well, at least you’re only a transport ride away.”
“And I’ll be up with Molly and Yoshi in just a few days,” Keiko said.
“I can’t wait to show you the new place,” O’Brien said. “There are so many more things to do than on the old station, and there are going to be so many more people.”
“And it’s not forty years old and designed to process ore,” Keiko said, “so you shouldn’t have to spend twenty-six hours a day maintaining it.”
“I can’t lie,” O’Brien said. “Once I joined the Corps of Engineers, it took me no time to get accustomed to using Starfleet technology again. And this place is state of the art.”
“Just make sure that the science labs are—”
The door chime sounded, interrupting Keiko. O’Brien checked the time again.
“That’s Nog,” he said, then called for him to come in. “I need to get going.” The doors opened and the Ferengi engineer entered. “Hi, Nog. I’m just talking to Keiko.”
Nog walked over to the companel. “Hello, Keiko.”
“Hi, Nog,” Keiko said with a wave. “Look at you.”
As O’Brien had done e
arlier, Nog peered down at the dress uniform he wore. “I look like a snowdrift with ears,” he said.
“Well, I think you look very elegant,” Keiko told him.
“Thanks. It’ll be a miracle if I can keep it clean the entire afternoon,” Nog said. “So how are you?”
“I’m great. Just looking forward to seeing my husband and that brand-new starbase of yours in a few days.”
“Fantastic,” Nog said. “Make sure he takes you flying in the park.”
“What?” Keiko said. “I’m not sure I heard you right.”
“You’ll see,” O’Brien said. Then, fixing Nog with an admonishing glare, he added, “It was supposed to be a surprise.”
“It will be, since I have no idea what Nog’s talking about,” Keiko said. “Anyway, let’s talk later. I want to hear all about the dedication ceremony.”
“All right,” O’Brien said. “Congratulations on your presentation.”
“Thanks. I love you.”
“I love you too.” Keiko’s image vanished from the screen, replaced by the Starfleet logo. O’Brien deactivated the companel. “I guess we should be on our way,” he told Nog, who agreed.
The two men headed out onto the greensward surrounding the residential level at the equator of the sphere. They bypassed the turbolift and made their way to the nearest stairway, which took them up to the Plaza. They walked to the theater, joining the throng of DS9 personnel also attending the ceremony. Captain Ro had left a command crew in the Hub, as well as security teams at the occupied docking ports and around the rest of the star-base, but otherwise, she had invited most of the twenty-five hundred crew members aboard to the dedication, as well as the couple of hundred civilians who had already taken up residence on the station, a few journalists, and several members of the Aventine and Robinson crews.
O’Brien saw that perhaps half of the theater’s three thousand seats had already filled up. He and Nog started down a sloping aisle in the direction of the stage. Partway along, O’Brien heard somebody call out his given name. He followed the voice and saw Julian sitting beside Sarina Douglas. The doctor waved, and so O’Brien and Nog took the seats next to the couple.
Star Trek: The Fall: Revelation and Dust Page 21
