Chapter 3

Kehin�s feeling of elation faded at the sight of Ibis, arms crossed over her narrow chest and small mouth pursed in disapproval as she waited for him by the clinic door.

He shrugged. �I had something to do.�

�What did you have to do?�

�Something important,� Kehin muttered, kicking up a little puff of dust.

�Did you talk to the man who gave you the book?�

�I can�t tell you.�

�You�re keeping secrets. That�s not honorable.�

�Sometimes,� he began with an attempt at loftiness, �it�s honorable and important to keep secrets, for the good of Cardassia.�

�Not when you sneak around and spy on people.�

�I don�t spy on people!�

�All you did at lunch was listen to everybody talk, and then you ran off. You went to see that man, didn�t you, so you could tell him what they said,� Ibis accused.

�They�re not Cardassian.� He tried to brazen it out.

�So?�

�It�s like those Ferengi who were here,� he found himself explaining earnestly. �They were aliens. They weren�t Cardassian, they weren�t here because they wanted to help us, they were here to rob us. And we should be careful about the Federation aliens too. We need to watch them, so we can know why they�re here, and make sure that we stay true Cardassians in spite of them!�

Ibis scowled. �Dr. Ptacek is here to help us. And so are her friends. They�re helping us. What good is that man doing for anybody? I never see him cleaning up rubble or helping in the clinic or working in the camp.�

�He�s�� Kehin shut up, clamping his teeth together. �I can�t tell you.�

�Children!� Both turned as Eske stepped out of the clinic. The young human nurse smiled at them, putting a hand on the shoulder of each. �I don�t know what you two are arguing about, but every time I�ve seen you, you�ve been best friends. Now you�re starting to shout like a pair of Klingons fighting over a mug of bloodwine!� She looked from one to the other. �And,� she continued in a loud whisper, smiling none-the-less, �I�ve got people in here trying to sleep, and if you get any louder, you�re going to wake them! So, do you think you can go play more quietly, somewhere else, or should I put you to work cleaning up lunch plates and cups from the ward?�

�I�ll clean plates and cups,� Ibis immediately volunteered, daring Kehin with her reproachful gray eyes. �I want to help. It�s the Cardassian thing to do.�

He didn�t see any alternative. Mumbling under his breath, Kehin followed the woman and girl into the clinic.

* * * *

Garak waited in the clinic, busying himself with a number of the many manual tasks that needed to be done every day � moving boxes and crates in the supply rooms, folding clothing and linen in the small laundry, cleaning beds and sterilizing gear. He kept his eyes open, waiting. Over an hour passed before he saw Rekel enter the large chamber that had once been a broad entry hall.

He busily and very visibly made his way across the wide hall to the laundry again, and made a show of reviewing the inventory PADD of sheets and towels washed that day. Rekel joined hm a few minutes later, carrying a basket of soiled linens. They were the only two people in the chamber.

�You�re late,� he noted, his eyes focused on the PADD.

She set the basket on the counter, then dumped its contents into the unit. �I was unable to get away any sooner. The legate would have been curious.� She offered no further explanation.

He accepted the vague answer. �Rekel, I need to find somebody.�

�Who?�

�A man named Kassel Limorin.�

She frowned. �Limorin. The historian?�

Garak nodded.

�The one who was suspected of being part of the underground dissident movement, but we could never prove it?�

He smiled; Rekel had always had a keen memory. �That�s the one.�

She considered for a moment. �At last report, he used to live in the Paldar sector of the city. I have no idea if he survived the occupation � I didn�t have access to much information during that time, and I was keeping a low profile to avoid the fate of some of our ... associates. I do know his name hasn�t come up in any of the Directorate reports since then.�

�Can you find out if he�s still alive?�

�Yes,� she replied efficiently, without questioning why. �Do you want him brought to you?�

�No,� Garak assured her, keeping his purposes to himself as he so often did. �Just tell me where he is, if he�s still alive.�

�If he�s alive, I�ll find him.�

* * * *

The slim, red-headed Oriental woman made her way through the camp, stopping at tents to check if the needs of the occupants were being met, and to see if they were healthy, or knew anyone who might be sick or injured but not have sought medical help. Most of the adults and older children were away from the refugee camp, clearing away rubble, trying to rebuild, or sifting through whatever remained of their homes. The daytime occupants of the camp were primarily the elderly, caretakers and young children, and the sick, along with new arrivals who hadn�t yet decided what to do with themselves or the situation.

Aya paused to exchange greetings with people she�d met before, her energetic disposition and bright grin earning tentative smiles from a few of stoic, war-weary people. The rest of the population of the camp maintained an aloof distance or seemed unsure how to react to the human.

That didn�t stop Aya from trying to make connections with them.

She paused at the open flap of one of the tents. �Hello, Ocela! Are you home?� There wasn�t much privacy in the camp; the least she could do was respect the entrance.

A middle-aged Cardassian woman appeared at the flap, smiling and waving her in. �Come in, Aya, come in! My little girl�s better today! And so are the boys!�

Her heart skipped. �That�s great to hear! Let�s see them....�

A little victory. Ocela had lost a husband and three children, and most of her other relatives, in the Dominion massacre. She now cared for her only surviving child, her mother-in-law, and the two sons of her husband�s dead brother. All three of the children had been very sick when they arrived at the camp, only a few days before, all but carried by the women. They had needed medicine, food, rest, and shelter. Because the clinic and emergency medical stations were overflowing, the family had been provided the basics, and Aya had visited every day to monitor the children�s response to treatment. Those first days, she had been quietly concerned that they might have been too late. Their recovery was a reason to rejoice.

With the Cardassian emphasis on family, and the generations caring for each other, Aya knew that saving the children had given the two women a future and a reason to keep on living themselves, after all they�d lost.

Her tricorder scan revealed that all three children were in fact now recovering quickly. The younger of the boys even grinned at her, although the older immediately tapped his brother�s arm with a severe expression, as though to remind him to behave appropriately in front of the offworlder.

Even the aged mother-in-law looked more relaxed, with gratitude in her sharp gray eyes, although she didn�t smile.

It was a good thing Aya could start her rounds with a victory; news in the rest of the tents and shelters wasn�t as good.

She confirmed twelve new cases of the worst of the still-nameless diseases that was cropping up all over the city. Normally, twelve people would not have seemed too many to be a great concern, in most times and places, in this size of population. But here, twelve who were sick enough to stay in bed, and report it to the not-always-trusted relief team, probably meant there were several times that many who were actually sick, in the beginning stages and continuing to push themselves, or just not telling the doctors.

It took over two hours to collect information from the new cases or the relatives with them, about their general health before the disease, where they�d been, who they�d associated with, if anyone else they knew had been sick. By then, her elation over the children had faded.

Studying her PADD, she tried to correlate the information she�d learned this afternoon with what she already had. The disease seemed to have originated in the capital city population, since that was where the first cases had appeared. Cases were now showing up at the relief stations in the other cities, which demonstrated a spread, although not in the linear or expanding wave one would have expected, if it were being spread person-to-person by travelers. It also didn�t match an airborne vector.

The disease was serious. A number of people had already died; so far, she was unaware of anyone who had contracted the illness and recovered. It seemed to hit all age groups of the population, with the elderly, children, and other frailer individuals succumbing more quickly.

She tucked the PADD in her medbag, deciding she might as well head back to the clinic, and see if there was any more useful information from any of the other medical relief stations.

Walking on, she noticed, as she always did, the small collection of military personnel in the camp. There were a few dozen soldiers there who had somehow survived the final Dominion bloodbath. They had set up tents and other shelters next to each other, and still seemed to spend part of each day drilling.

Wryly, she concluded that this must be the one little part of normalcy they could claim for themselves.

The military had been the first target of the Jem�Hadar soldiers in the final day. Because they were armed and trained, the Cardassian military had been a potential threat, a force that could fight back. With the military all but wiped out, the Jem�Hadar had moved on to the Cardassian civilians � who were unarmed, had a tradition of absolute obedience and loyalty to their government and those in control, and had been mostly paralyzed by two years of occupation, until Damar�s call to action had raised an unexpected resistance.

Cardassian patriotism had never really been questioned.

The military was still deferred to, in Aya�s observation. The soldiers in the camp were given first chance for rations at the replicators. The civilians tended to step out of their way, and they seemed to pay attention when the highest-ranking of the soldiers, a glinn, gave instructions. The soldiers probably answered to one or the other of the competing groups struggling for primacy in the government. They were likely living here in the camp, rather than in one of the still-standing barracks, to be a presence and establish control over this small segment of the population.

And she suspected they still had weapons, even though they didn�t show them.

They never deigned to speak to her. As she passed, Aya nodded pleasantly at one of the soldiers, who haughtily stared through her � but she felt his eyes on her back as she kept walking.

She wondered if he would report the names of those who talked to her, of the tents and shelters where she�d stopped.

Glancing up at the sky, she frowned.

A long arc of lightning speared across the listless gray expanse. The boom of thunder that followed it echoed ominously.

She jumped, along with most of the people she could see. Off to the west, the sky seemed a strangely roiling mass of blue, gray, and black clouds, darker than the constant haze they all simply accepted by now. Everyone was looking that way, pointing and moving around uneasily.

�Dry lightning,� she muttered, sucking in her breath. �There must be a lot of static in the air. Those clouds....� A quick shiver ran through her. That sky was frightening.

She hoped Lausten�s force field emitters would work.

* * * *

The line of emitters was almost four miles outside of the city. Lausten had set the system that far out for several reasons, despite the fact that it had required the replicators on the Nightingale to produce fifty percent more emitters than the initial plan called for. It made it less likely that looters or vandals from the city would hike that far to raid the equipment, and no one would damage one by accident. It also set the ring of protection as far out as possible, so that anyone who might have been making their way toward the city in front of the storm would have every chance to reach safety before the storm reached them. Lausten was determined to protect as much of the area as he could. And since the emitters were programmed to transmit a signal to the met-station every one-point-five seconds, any approaching danger or internal mechanical failures would be detected almost instantaneously.

Bashir strode briskly across the dusty ground, feeling and hearing it crunch beneath his feet with every step. Small puffs of dust raised in acknowledgment of each of those steps. In the warm afternoon air, all but radiating up from the soil, he was soon sweating, and panting slightly.

The first three emitters he checked were operational; he headed for the fourth, the one that would be first to have to hold against the storm.

He glanced around him as he walked. The area was mostly scrub growth, but he passed the remains of a number of dry-farmed fields with abandoned crops, and what had presumably been the homes of the ones who tended those fields. The Jem�Hadar had been here; the buildings were little more than burned out shells. He could still smell the ash and death in the air, and the ripening scent of the unharvested grain and spoiled vegetation. It seemed as if the air itself was mourning, but Bashir knew that was the winds of the storm, still distant and moaning.

There was a makeshift memorial column beside one of the ruined structures; at least someone had survived there to remember the dead. He paused for a moment to contemplate the rough image, then wiped the sweat from his face and moved on.

He spotted the emitter, atop a small hill, silhouetted against the sky. All around it, heat shimmers hugged the ground.

Behind and above it, he could also see very clearly the approaching edge of the storm, in the dark, thick clouds and the curtains of dust that swirled across the horizon as far as he could see. Lausten�s work had been completed none too soon.

�Let�s just hope it all works as well as Trey calculated,� he breathed to himself, picking up his pace.

Bashir suddenly found himself wondering if he should be able to see the approaching storm as clearly as he did. He pulled out the PADD to double check the settings and power levels.

He frowned. Something wasn�t quite right. The readings from the emitter, at least from here, suggested something was disrupting the signal from the met-station. The result would be a gap in the force field, a narrow corridor through which the storm could pour with even greater force, funneled directly toward the city.

He glanced up at the emitter. Now that he was closer, he could see it � the storm was bearing down on him, the winds already picking up. The air seemed to be quivering with anticipation; he felt goosebumps on his arms and little prickles on the back of his neck. There seemed to be a sour tang in the air. The distant moaning was building to a shriek of anger as small gales scudded around him, throwing a veil of sand in his face. Reflexively, he blinked and ducked his head.

Something moved. He caught just a glimpse out of the corner of his eye. By the time Bashir turned, something struck him.

Stars flashed into novas all around him in painfully bright light.

He felt himself falling, his thoughts disconnected, his body crumpling without guidance.

He hit the ground, but couldn�t even feel it for the agony in his skull.

His head exploded with every beat of his heart. Feeling his consciousness fading, the last thing Bashir saw before the world went black was a pair of boots striding through his shrinking line of vision.