Chapter 8

When Lise returned to Aoja in the early morning hours and collapsed into a numb, shallow sleep, she did not know how intent the Cardassians were about capturing and eliminating the Olan Resistance cell. She didn’t know about the small convoy of troops that had been sent toward Aoja two days earlier, or the sudden correspondence that had erupted between that convoy and Gul Tovan after her encrypted message about the Olan’s whereabouts had been deciphered. And she had no idea how quickly those troops were capable of closing in, now that they had a lead.

All she knew was that when daylight came, it brought insanity with it.

Emyn Lise had never been able to pinpoint exactly what had happened after frenzied shouts and phaser fire had jolted her awake that morning. Memories came only in random, jerky flashes. She could remember the fear in Kail’s eyes, that much she recalled with clarity — Kail, awake and terrified, his attention fastened unwaveringly on the closed door and the battle that had suddenly erupted beyond it. All around the tiny house where he and Lise huddled together in the shadows, shouts and screams echoed off the rock walls of the bluffs, weapons fire shrilling as close as 50 meters away, and the air smelled strongly of dust and smoke. And Lise could do nothing but look into Kail’s eyes, trying to whisper comfort.

She couldn’t remember how long she had stayed there with her brother — it felt like hours, but in reality it could have been a few short minutes. Somehow, when the fighting got too close, she’d managed to slip both of them out the door and to the footpath that Tana had used so often, urging Kail into a limping run until they reached the safety of a hiding place in the bluffs. As they fled, phaser blasts were screaming back and forth across the square where Kail had been beaten, their electric light thin and watery in the sun. Some shots had sparked the thin dry wood of the shanty buildings, and the closely knit cluster of homes was burning, burning in the morning heat….

Maybe it was the smoke that had clouded her mind and choked the memory of leaving Kail behind, hidden in the cliffs, desperately convinced that he would be safe until she got back. Or maybe, Emyn often thought, a part of her didn’t want to remember. It was easier to cling to the abstract conviction that Kail had made it, “one way or another,” than it was to realize how many ways he could have died after she saw him for the last time. All she could really remember that she was suddenly alone in the middle of a battle that she couldn’t see, on the maze of narrow trails beyond the mines, running as fast as her legs could carry her.

Emyn didn’t know where she was going or what she was trying to do — look for help, perhaps. It probably didn’t matter anyway, with the battle raging in the cliffs all around her. In her mind, reasons evaporated and she was just running, the high sun burning her shoulders and her lungs straining for breath in the hot, dusty air.

The high rock walls pressed close around her on either side and the gravel became rocky and sharp, bruising her feet through the thin soles of her sandals, and still she pressed herself to go faster. She never saw anyone, but she knew the fighters surrounded her. Behind her, rough Cardassian voices barked out frantic orders, and clumsy footsteps clattered on the trail. The chaotic sounds echoed and re-echoed off the high bluffs until they came from everywhere and nowhere.

The voices sounded disoriented, a distant corner of her mind noted — many of the officers were stuck in the twisting maze of the canyons, confused by the smothering light and heat reflected off the stone. But they were close, so close — she had to get away from them….

In the fray, above the sound of her breathing, Lise heard a short command. A Bajoran. The Resistance fighters, the people of Aoja, they fought so quietly, moved so swiftly — it was almost impossible to tell that they were in the battle at all. But Lise could feel them nearby, perhaps one trail over, possibly the shape that flitted out of her vision ahead of her as she ran. A shot rang out, and very near, around the curve she had just turned, a Cardassian’s scream echoed and was abruptly cut off.

Panic seized her. She stumbled and fell, scraping the palms of her hands on the rough ground. The brief instant that it took to haul herself back to her feet felt like an eternity. But the bluffs were speeding by her in a blur once again. A fissure opened up in the rocks to her right; she jerked herself into that turn. Behind her, the voices grew louder, shot past the narrow opening, passed her by. She ran on.

Four sprinting strides, a tight twist in the path — Lise dashed full speed into the armored back of a single Cardassian officer that had been separated from the rest of his comrades and was now hopelessly lost.

“Shit!” His voice was more startled than angry; he whirled and stumbled over Lise’s frantic scrambling to escape him. Reflexively, he snatched for her arm, and she was too breathless to cry out as they struggled.

“You….” The officer’s breath was hot on her face. “You Bajoran dirt….” With his free hand, he lifted his disruptor and aimed.

Lise reacted without thought. Her arm shot out, and she felt the bones in his nose crumple in beneath the heel of her hand like a nutshell. His howl of agony rang off the rock walls.

The grip on her arm was gone, and she staggered back. Whether the guard would have regained his senses in time to stop her from escaping, Lise would never know. A Bajoran phaser shrilled, and sparks fanned out from behind him in a corona of light. He grunted, once, then fell forward, almost on top of her. She sidestepped, and the guard sprawled face downward.

“You!” From above. Lise looked up to a narrow ledge in the wall. A Bajoran man that she did not recognize had been crouched there, almost completely hidden from view. One of the Olan.

He scrambled to climb down, grabbing for something at his belt and tossing it to her. A small pickaxe, from the mines — one of the only weapons he had. “You can fight! Stay close to me! We’ll protect each other!”

“I can’t….” Lise could barely breathe. She let the pick clatter to the ground, bolted over the corpse of the Cardassian in front of her. “I’m sorry!”

“Wait!” But he was behind her, and she didn’t look back. The trail turned again and she was alone.

There was no way of knowing how far that flight of panic took her. The sounds of the battle were blotted out by the time her legs failed and she collapsed, gasping for breath. Her skin was burning and the sun glaring through the tears in her eyes blinded her. For a long time, she saw and heard nothing.

Then she lifted her head, and her clouded vision began to clear. The trail was wider, the ground sandy under her fingers. Beyond the tapering rock walls she saw a stand of low trees; beyond that, she heard the gentle murmur of water. She was near the river. How many times had she run this way, following the river to the hills that overlooked the wide desert? With Tana….

“Who’s there?!” That voice — had Lise called her into existence? “Answer or I’ll fire!”

Lise forced an answer past her dry throat. “Tana!”

“Lise, thank the Prophets….” A scuffle of footsteps, and her friend was there, right beside her, hugging her shoulders. Lise clung to her desperately. “I ran back to your home,” she heard Tana say rapidly, “I went back as soon as I could, but no one was there — I thought you might be….”

“You’re all right,” Lise sobbed. Her face pressed hard into Tana’s chest and she trembled uncontrollably. Tana’s hand cradled her head, stroked her hair from her face. “You’re alive….”

For a moment, the world was still. The river sang low nearby. Then, far in the distance, there was a high-pitched cry, a signal.

Tana turned slightly toward that sound, then shook Lise’s shoulders gently. “We’ve driven them back,” she whispered. “I don’t know how the Cardassians found us, and they had us surrounded, but we’ve fought them back! Come on, get up — I’ll take you to Olan.”

Lise’s mind was clearing. She grabbed Tana’s arm desperately. “No, we have to go back! Our home….”

“There’s nothing to go back to,” Tana said softly. “We have to escape, that’s the best we can do. More troops are on their way to Aoja now, we’d be captured if we tried to take it back.”

“No,” Lise said vehemently. “No. We can’t give up. We can’t just leave!”

Her friend was pulling them both to their feet, a gentle frown creasing her brow. “We’ll get Aoja back, one day, Lise … but that isn’t important right now. Father, Moran, Sona — our families are with the Olan. They’re our home, can’t you see that? They’re all that matters.”

Desperation was welling up in Lise. She shook her head. “I can’t go to them. I can’t.”,p> “What do you mean?” Tana scowled in confusion. “Lise, what are you talking about?”

“They won’t let me.” Words came spilling out, one after the other — there was no way to stop them. “They know me, now, Dav would recognize me and he won’t let me….”

“Why?”

“All right. All right. They know me because I was there. Because I spoke to them; I had to warn them before—”

Tana’s grip on her shoulders tightened abruptly. “Warn them. How could you warn them? How could you have known that this was going to happen?”

“Because I did this!” Lise almost shouted. “I told the Cardassians where they were! I didn’t have a choice!”

There was a horrible silence. Beneath her sun-browned complexion, the color drained from Tana’s face. “You told them….”

“Tana…. Tana, they were going to find them anyway, they would have discovered the Olan and fought them no matter what we did, you know that! But only after they killed half the people in our town trying to make us tell them! I didn’t want that to happen, I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt….”

“You didn’t want anyone else to get hurt!” Horror was suddenly alive in Tana’s eyes, and something swiftly approaching contempt. “Look! Look what you’ve done! Aoja is gone now, because of this! Because of you!”

“I’m sorry.” Lise held her friend tightly, not letting her back away. Suddenly, she felt she couldn’t bear it if she lost Tana, after everything else. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, I didn’t mean…. But we’ll be all right now, you and I, they’re retreating, we can make our way to the hills and slip away when this is all over! Selat is only a few days away from here — we’ll protect each other….”

But Tana pulled back. Tears fell down her cheeks and she wiped them away with the back of her fist, leaving streaks of dust. “Run away? Is that it, Lise? Abandon everything we’ve fought for and run away?”

“I was fighting for my family,” Lise whispered. “I only did this because I … I don’t want to lose them … or you … I don’t want to lose you. You’re all I have.” Stepping forward, she reached out to take her friend’s hand. “Please, Tana … come with me….”

“Don’t.” Tana whipped her arm out of Lise’s reach, her eyes burning. “Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me.”

The gesture hit Lise like a blow, evaporating the last of her strength. Leaning heavily against the hot stone wall of the ravine, she sank to her knees. The sunlight and the sky and the river, Tana standing in front of her — all felt dark and cold. She was out of words; her pleas locked in her throat and tumbled over each other until they filled her, echoing in her head. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to—

Only dimly, she saw Tana turn her back, slinging her phaser rifle securely over her shoulders, and run away, toward the place where the Olan waited, leaving Emyn alone in the dust. And she could do nothing but watch her go. It was the last time Emyn saw her.

* * * *

“Olan made us swear to protect you, not to tell anyone how we’d been betrayed! That you were just a scared girl! That the Cardassians were our enemies and we weren’t going to become hunters of our own people!” He hissed bitterly, the contempt and rage all too evident, and growing with every step closer the old man took.

“He repaid your shame with his honor, hiding your secret from everyone! It is a grace you never deserved. You should have died there too, that night. But you didn’t. Somehow, you, of all people, lived. Olan wouldn’t let those of us who survived denounce you. And we obeyed, for the sake of your family.” Dav’s lip curled. “You never saw the pain in their eyes, did you? You never knew the shame they had to endure, knowing what you’d done! You ran away from them, just as you’ve run away from everything else that is honorable, like the coward you are!”

The sneering words struck like a blow. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry….”

“Pah!” the old fighter spat. “Will that give peace to the dead of Aoja?”

It hadn’t been enough then, it wasn’t enough now. She knew that. Shaken and defeated, Emyn let out a shuddering breath. Forced to stare her memories in the face, she lowered her head under their weight.

She also did something that went against every instinct she’d ever learned in her hard life. She let down her guard.

He hit her in a flying tackle, moving faster than she ever would have expected. She went down, all her strength and will to fight gone. Her left shoulder jammed against the wall, sending a moment’s fire down her arm.

Dav’s voice whispered in her ear, very close. “The Prophets brought you here where I would find you. They brought you here to die, traitor, under their very eyes….”

The soft gleam of a kerim-blade flashed at the edge of her vision. Of course — a weapon that didn’t show on the internal scanners. Reflex alone brought her hands up to catch his wrist, but the blade was pressed against her throat before she could even take hold. She couldn’t keep a grip. She couldn’t maneuver. The cold material tightened into a thin thread of pain, paralyzing. A wave of fear washed through her.

Footsteps.

Dav half-turned to look behind him, then jumped to his feet.

Another figure, female, a less-dark shadow. Hands linked to form one fist, swung in a swift arc. Once, twice. Dav flew again, backward. The blade was flung free across the deck. The man crumpled. He didn’t get up.

“Computer, command override! Lights!”

Illumination flooded the corner.

In the sudden glare, Emyn saw Colonel Kira standing above her.

“Are you all right?” Kira asked calmly. Too calmly, for someone who’d walked in on such a sight.

Emyn let out a slight breath, willing the panic to ebb from her mind before she pushed herself upright and faced the colonel. “Yes.” There was a slight tremor in her voice; she focused on that sign of weakness and crushed it. Reaching up, she brushed the back of her hand across her throat and glanced at the thin smear of blood there. “Just a few cuts and bruises, sir, nothing serious.”

Kira regarded her closely for a moment, her face unreadable. “Good,” she finally replied. Stepping forward, she knelt by the still form of Dav crumpled at Emyn’s feet, and glanced him over. Unconscious, the fighter’s steel determination had faded — he was an old man again, tired and defeated. A small sigh escaped Kira’s lips as she got to her feet. “Call your security team and get him to the Infirmary. I’ll notify Dr. Monrow to expect a late patient.”

“Yes, sir,” the constable replied smoothly. She reached up to reactivate her combadge, as businesslike as if she were rounding up a harmless drunk that had fallen asleep on the Promenade.

But Kira didn’t walk away. “Constable.”

Emyn paused. “Yes?”

“When you’re through with him,” she replied, holding the taller woman’s gaze with a strange intensity, “I’ll be waiting for you in your office. You have some explaining to do.”

“I….” Emyn stiffened slightly, realizing. The colonel had heard. She almost spoke, then thought better of it. What could she say, now or later? She took refuge in professionalism. “Yes, sir.”

* * * *

Kira’s eyes never seemed to leave her glass. She rotated her wrist slightly; red liquid rolled gently against the fancy crystal the beverage scarcely warranted. “What is it,” she said slowly, “about this place that attracts misfits and outcasts? Is there anyone that lives on this station that doesn’t have some dark secret to hide?”

Quark shrugged, wiping off the counter and preparing for the breakfast crowd with a brisk, nonchalant air. “That’s hardly important — you can just pass that off as one of those unfathomable mysteries of the galaxy. No, the real question, Colonel, is would you have it any other way?”

“At the moment? That doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.” Then she smirked, and raised her glass in salute. “But the will of the Prophets be done. They don’t discuss issues like this with me, so it seems pointless to get philosophical about it with you.”

Quark sniffed at the comment, but it was easy to see he took her severity in stride with his usual charisma. “Fine, have it your way. Just trying to help — you know, one misfit to another….”

Kira lowered her glass long enough to spear him with a dangerous look. “Quark….”

He held up his hands as if in surrender and moved down the bar to talk to Morn, who could always be counted on to talk about just about anything ad infinitum.

Kira was left contemplating her juice, and wondering if she’d done the right thing.

Hours ago, in the security office, Emyn had given her the whole story of her history at Aoja, of Dav Mino and the Olan. She had stood stiffly at attention, her eyes and voice equally distant. She had spared nothing; she had made no excuses. And then she had fallen silent, waiting to be condemned.

It wasn’t so long ago that Kira knew she would have condemned the woman. Even now, staring into the glass at the liquid, the fruit juice as red as blood, she didn’t know why she hadn’t. Emyn had betrayed the Resistance and her own family. People had been killed for lesser crimes. If word got out, the constable still might be. Members of the Resistance had died because of her decision, her action.

Bajor hated its traitors.

But it also hated some of its defenders. Kira thought of Emyn; she thought of Rig. Both were condemned, in many eyes.

She swirled the glass again, watching the bright liquid catch the light as its wave circled near the rim, threatening to overflow.

Chirp!

She was going to have that blasted thing melted down into an earring.

“Kira here.”

“Vedek Carn and the First Minister are ready to leave, sir.”

“Thank you. I’m on my way.”

* * * *

Unlike their arrivals, the departure of Minister Shakaar and Vedek Carn was quiet, a non-event. Carn had made his farewell speech from the entrance to the shrine on the Promenade. Shakaar had avoided any public appearances that morning. Kira and a handful of security were the only others in the bay besides the official staff.

“Minister.” She smiled at Shakaar. He looked like he had at least gotten a good night’s sleep.

“Thank you for your time, Colonel.” He held her hand for just a half-second longer than might have been expected. She saw the gratitude in Shakaar’s eyes — a twinkle where gravity should have been. “We should be hearing from … someone, soon. I’ll contact you then, or maybe earlier.”

Between them, they would find a way to resolve the current crisis. She was confident of that.

Kira turned to face Shakaar’s security officer. “Colonel Rig, it’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

“And you, Colonel.” Rig nodded politely, her hands still at her side, one close to the officially-cleared phaser and the other, Kira had no doubt, near weapons of some other sort. “Hopefully our next meeting will be under less troubling circumstances.”

“Hopefully.” A pause. “Keep him safe. Bajor needs him.”

“I know.” For a second, emotion showed in Rig’s dark eyes. Devotion, and understanding. Then she unexpectedly thrust out her hand. “And he has told me that Bajor depends on you, as well. Be safe.”

Kira shook her hand, nodding back.

The First Minister and his security staff entered the airlock to the shuttle.

“Ah, my child….” Vedek Carn approached in a delicate haze of y’rtana incense. She would forever associate that scent with him, from now on.

“Vedek….”

He reached out to touch her ear. “I trust you have considered the topic we discussed yesterday?”

“I have,” she replied.

“And may I presume to recommend a replacement security officer for you? I am sure the First Minister will confirm whatever decision you make—“

“I’ve decided not to make any changes in my staff at this time, Vedek.”

His eyes opened a fraction. “Indeed? In spite of the woman’s failure to trust in the Prophets?”

“We may fail the Prophets, Vedek Carn, but I do not believe they will fail us. I will trust that they brought her here for a reason.”

He scowled. “There are others who would better appreciate the honor—“ he began.

“They have their faith; they are secure in the Prophets,” she cut in. “They don’t need to be here. Perhaps … she does. Perhaps the Prophets brought her here as the first step in bringing her back to them, or for a purpose we can’t even fathom, yet. I think I will have faith in their purpose, until I have reason to believe otherwise. Emyn Lise will stay here, where the Prophets can touch her heart and guide her to where she needs to be.”

“Colonel—“ he began reprovingly, as though chiding a toddler.

“We offered amnesty to Bajorans like the Kohn-Ma, who wanted to come home and who agreed to set aside their past,” she said thoughtfully, as if she hadn’t heard him speak. “How could we not offer another chance to people like her? Whose crimes against Bajor lay in losing their faith and in fear during a dark time?” She met his eyes. “I believe this is what the Emissary would have wanted, and I believe it is the will of the Prophets.”

Carn had spent the better part of two days listening to tales of the Emissary. In many of those tales, she knew she had figured prominently, at Sisko’s side, learning from him and aiding him, as many people saw it. She hoped he wouldn’t try to overrule her on this issue. She intended to stand firm.

After a moment’s thought, he finally nodded. “May we all have the wisdom to seek and recognize the will of the Prophets, and be granted faith enough to obey.” That enigmatic pronouncement made, he nodded and moved to the shuttle hatch.

Kira waited until the airlock cycled shut, and she could see the shuttle disengage. Then she turned away. She’d lost the better part of two days; she had a lot of work to catch up on.

* * * *

The old man sat in his cell, staring vacantly through the force screen. He looked tired and beaten, and much older than his years would account for.

Emyn stared back, feeling just as exhausted as he looked.

When he finally seemed to notice her presence, his expression turned to contempt. Then, with an effort, he looked away as if she weren’t there.

“Dav Mino,” she said softly.

He didn’t respond.

Emyn took a deep breath. “It’s my duty to inform you of your options. You’ll be taken back to Bajor this afternoon, to be charged and to stand trial for inciting a riot and for attempted murder. You’ll be provided with counsel, if you wish, and you’ll no doubt be able to make any statements you choose.”

Dav’s gaze flicked toward her, then derisively away.

“And I don’t ask for your forgiveness — it’s not something I expect any person would be able to give.” Her face hardened. “I know I wouldn’t.”

He blinked, slowly, still not speaking. Emyn turned to leave, not expecting him to say anything to a woman he so obviously despised.

“You didn’t ask what I plan to do,” he said abruptly. “What I will tell them.”

The statement caught her off guard. She paused, then shrugged as if it didn’t matter, not bothering to face him, responding indifferently. “You’ll do what you feel you have to. Say what you will — about your mission, about the Resistance, about me. I make no pleas on my behalf.”

He gave a dry, coughing laugh. “That’s noble of you.” She felt his gaze suddenly focus on the back of her neck. “Am I still just a feeble old criminal to you, girl? I had a mission here, you know.”

She waited, letting him speak.

“I came to remind people. I came to remind them of the Resistance, to remind them how we fought against being tainted by the Cardassians. How we should fight against being tainted by the Federation. I came to hold back the dark tide from other worlds. To remind them all that we are Bajorans.” A shade of his old strength crept into his voice. “We are Bajorans — born to seek the guidance of the Prophets.”

“And did the Prophets guide you to kill for that cause? Maybe the First Minister or the Vedek?” Emyn finally turned around to face him, but her usual heated anger seemed to fall short.

That laugh again. “The Minister’s pet asked that too. No. Their fates lie in a greater hand than mine.”

Emyn’s heart twisted. “Then they directed you to kill me?”

Dav seemed to sink in on himself. “That was my choice,” he all but whispered.

“In their name?” she pressed. “To show our world their vengeance?”

The old man’s expression grew sad. “I thought I knew,” he muttered. “I thought I could read the path they had laid out for you.” He tipped his hands palm up in his lap, lifting his eyes toward the cold light of his cell. “But they protected you. Just like Olan did. I ... was wrong. I couldn’t read your path....”

She shook her head angrily. “The Prophets have no path for me. Die fifty years from now, die today by your hand, it makes no difference.”

“Yes, it does!” He stared, eyes suddenly wide and comprehending, as if with a revelation. “That was my sin…. I took it on myself to strike for vengeance, I didn’t wait for their sign! I chose my own revenge, not theirs….” He looked at her with burning intensity. “That’s why….” He slowly stood, his aged body looking more gaunt and bent after the night. “They brought you here for a reason … but that reason was not me. It was not to die here, not at my hand…. The Prophets haven’t shown you the path they mean for you to walk.”

And then, amazingly, Dav smiled, peace spreading over his suddenly luminous features. “Yet. But they will. They will. They do not abandon us. And their will cannot be ignored. You are alive, for their reasons. I ignored their will, that is why I failed — I failed to consider they might still have a purpose for you….” He laughed, a much clearer sound this time. “You cannot run from them forever. They will come for you. And you will have no choice but to follow their path. As I have, for all these years.”

Emyn didn’t answer; Dav retook his seat and smiled at her. “Do you wonder what I plan to do? I plan to do … nothing. I plan to leave this place, to accept the fate meant for me. I will continue to speak when the Prophets guide me, but I know, now, you are not part of that. Your fate is not in my hands — it is in theirs. So I will leave you here … to wait for them.” He leaned forward and faced her down with an odd, fierce determination. “And I will forgive you.”

Somehow, those last words stung harshly. Emyn gritted her teeth. “That’s noble of you.”

He laughed again, suddenly and with amazing joy, until he was out of breath. “No, no — you can’t even understand that, can you, runner from Aoja? But you will! You remember. That much I know.”

It seemed, having said that much, that Dav had nothing more to say to her. He fell silent, eyes closed, his face alight as he looked inward at something she couldn’t see. He made no reaction when Emyn turned on her heel and walked out of the room, fighting to pull herself back together.

Her swift footsteps took her out of the main brig, through her office, out the heavy doors to the Promenade. The noise of the morning crowd enveloped her, echoing the turbulence of her thoughts, and she embraced it gladly.

Dav did not intend to reveal her. By all rights, she deserved to be branded a traitor to the rest of their world — but he’d forgiven her. He’d left her fate in the hands of the Prophets — the Prophets that she’d forsaken long ago, and that she was sure had forsaken Bajor in their own turn. Or — she amended, remembering the light in Dav’s eyes — if not all of Bajor, then certainly her.

And if she was left completely in their hands, was she not completely alone?

Impulsively, Emyn crossed the lower level to the narrow spiral staircase and climbed it, approaching one of the ports. Just as she defiantly lifted her gaze, the blackness of space erupted into a bloom of color, and the wormhole opened. Its brilliance gleamed on the outer hull of the station, bringing the cold metal to life with color, casting its glow over her face. She could just make out the black fleck of the Tiber vanishing into its heart before the gates twined shut with a flash of light.

Dav was right about one thing. She remembered. She would remember for the rest of her life.

—

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