Star Trek: Terok Nor 03: Dawn of the Eagles (29 page)

“He said she was to be released in Dahkur,” the pilot insisted sullenly, still hesitant to answer to a Bajoran. “Dukat’s orders.”

“Who told you that?” the Bajoran asked. “You’ll have to come with me to the prefect’s office, immediately. This needs to be resolved.”

The shuttle’s captain shook his head, handing the padd back to him. “I’ve just received clearance for departure. I’m on a schedule. You got what you came for, didn’t you? I’ll be back in twenty-six hours, I can make a report then.”

The balding man released Kira to take the padd back. “You have no choice in the matter,” he said. “Whoever told you that this…this
woman
…is to be released was not acting upon Gul Dukat’s authority, I can assure you. The prefect will want to speak with you directly.”

The pilot didn’t care for the way things were going. “Let me see your identification again,” he said darkly, backing up a step. The pompous collaborator stepped forward, and Kira realized her opportunity had come.

She didn’t stop to think. As the Bajoran held out his padd, Kira stepped forward and took the phaser from his belt, the motion fast and fluid. He squawked, turning, and she pulled back with the phaser and hit him with it, as hard as she could.

The weapon glanced off his left temple with a dull
chunk
, splitting the skin, but he was on the floor before he’d started to bleed, out cold.

The Cardassian dropped the padd, grabbing for his own phaser, and Kira stepped back, flipping the weapon against her palm. She pointed and fired, releasing a brilliant blast of light in the small cabin.

The pilot fell, the smoking hole in his chest telling her that the phaser had been set high. The passengers were trying to get up, talking, their voices high with fear.

“Hey,” Kira called, keeping her voice low but pitched to carry. “Calm down, please. I’m taking us home, okay? Just—just buckle in.”

She hurried back to the open door, spun it closed, her heart racing. She turned, looked at the two bodies crumpled by the partition. One dead, the other only stunned—she could see that the Bajoran breathed still. She raised the phaser, thinking that it would be the second Bajoran she’d killed in as many weeks.

Second collaborator
, she told herself, and that she had no choice. She fired at close range before she could consider it any further. She didn’t
want
to consider it any further; only wondered, for a brief glimmer of a second, what could motivate a Bajoran to turn on his own people like this.

A few of the passengers turned away—Jaryn among them—but most looked on, their faces still frightened but calm once more. A man wearing bandages on both of his hands started to weep.

“Thank you,” he said, and Kira could think of nothing to say to that, nothing at all.

She stepped over the dead men to get to the cockpit, hoping she could handle the shuttle’s controls, thinking that she’d find a way.

2366 (Terran Calendar)

T
he Oralians still met in the Torr sector, in an underground shrine that was conspicuously adjacent to the Cardassian theater—hiding in plain sight, among the most prominent features of Cardassia City. It was here that Thrax Sa’kat met with Kutel Esad late one evening, long after Cardassia City had fallen silent for the night, with only a few of the civilian city guard out, idly patrolling the sector. Thrax was still a soldier of Central Command, and Esad was still an agent of the Obsidian Order, but their status did not mean that they weren’t cautious when they made the exchange of the curiously bulky object, draped with a cloth and tied about clumsily with a piece of rope.

“This is the one?” Thrax inquired.

“I do not know if this is the object that Astraea first encountered at the Ministry of Science,” Esad replied. “Retrieving this item required a great deal of haste on my part, for although Enabran Tain is no longer the head of the Order, his successor is not exactly a fool.”

“No, of course not,” Thrax said, gratefully accepting the object from his friend. The bundle was heavier than it looked.

“I was able to confirm one truth about this item which you may find helpful,” Esad told him. “These objects had designations among the Bajorans—each was said to be for a specific purpose. I do not know what designation the others in the Order’s collection bear, but I know at least that this one was known as the Orb of Wisdom.”

“The Orb of Wisdom,” Thrax repeated. “I believe Astraea will be pleased.”

Esad seemed uncomfortable with something, and he regarded Thrax. “Have you told her that you intended to retrieve this item for her?”

“Not exactly,” Thrax confessed. “A very long time ago, I may have implied that I would try, but…”

Esad’s lips thinned. “If I may give you some advice, Thrax…”

“Certainly. Your advice is always welcome.”

“That object…should not remain on Cardassia Prime.”

Thrax involuntarily clutched the object tighter. It had been his intention that the Orb would be a gift for the followers of Oralius—for Astraea.

“But…the Guide should have the Orb, Kutel. It was the Orb that brought her back to us, that returned Astraea to Oralius once again. Don’t you suppose it was meant to be here, where she is?”

“The object belongs to the Bajorans,” Esad pointed out.

“But there is no way that you or I could possibly return this to Bajor,” Thrax argued. “I believe that Oralius meant for us to have it.”

Esad was silent for a moment. “I fear that it will put Astraea in danger,” he said.

“Then why did you agree to retrieve it?” Thrax protested. “I don’t understand, Kutel.”

“I don’t either,” the other man admitted. “When I originally came into possession of the Orb, I thought you were right—I thought that those who walked the Way should have it. But then…then I…I touched it, and I was…”

“You…opened it?” Thrax was stunned. Astraea had told him that nobody else had been able to open the case, nobody but her.

“No,” Esad said. “I didn’t open it. It happened when I placed my hand on the case. It didn’t happen immediately. I lifted the item, and then…it seemed…as though I was beginning to…” He trailed off, looking embarrassed. “I was overcome,” he said finally. “With the feeling that it should be taken from Cardassia Prime, right away.”

Thrax continued to clutch the Orb case to his chest, looking at the sheepish face of his friend. He did not want to listen to what Esad was saying, but he felt a strange, reluctant pull…

“The Orb is for the Oralians,” he told Esad firmly, and turned to carry the heavy case into the shrine. Esad murmured a good-bye as Thrax let himself inside the ground floor front, a small, darkened shop that sold replicator parts. It was surprising to Thrax that a man as normally businesslike as Kutel Esad would so quickly succumb to mystical ideas regarding the Orb. Although Thrax believed very strongly in the power that the item possessed, he had been under the impression that Esad was much more skeptical of it himself. Esad was a practical man. Overly cautious, perhaps.

Thrax carried the item down the back stairs of the shop, into the office where Astraea met with individual followers. He set the item on her table and began to tug at the wrappings that Esad had hastily swaddled around the case. As the item was revealed to him, his breath hitched in his chest. Its appearance was appropriately impressive, and he wondered where it had come from. Had the ancient Bajorans fashioned this splendid case for the precious relic that resided inside?

The object belongs to the Bajorans.

Ignoring the voice in his head, he put his hand gingerly on the case and waited to be overcome, as Esad had described himself. But the case was cold, and Thrax felt nothing. He smiled to himself, in part with relief to have been released from the worry that Esad had planted in his mind. He pictured how pleased Astraea would be when she learned that his efforts had finally produced this happy result, and then he left the shrine, reassuring himself once again that it was the safest place for the item, at least for now.

It was dark and still in this part of the city. Kira Nerys checked her scanner as she approached the improvised holding facility, and it quickly confirmed what she already suspected: there was a Bajoran life sign behind those walls, but it was fading fast. Tahna would not hold out much longer.

Kira had come here following a tip given to her by Tahna’s nephew, who lived in Dahkur. Tahna had returned to his family’s home for a quick visit over two weeks ago, but when he had not returned to the Kohn-Ma cell’s hideout, Biran put word out to his family to inquire after him. His family insisted that they didn’t know where he was, but Kira was unconvinced, and contacted them again, asking if there was anything they recalled about the route he had taken that might help him to be found. After a great deal of coaxing and questioning, Tahna’s teenage nephew finally confessed to Kira that the Cardassians had taken Tahna from his uncle’s house in the middle of the night. The soldiers had threatened the rest of the family, telling them they were lucky they weren’t all being taken—and that if they told anyone what had happened to Tahna, it was likely they would be.

Kira knew that Tahna’s abduction wasn’t some random security sweep, nor were the soldiers likely to take a single man from a Bajoran home if they were merely looking for workers. Tahna had been targeted specifically, most likely in connection with the resistance. He was being questioned somewhere, which meant that he was certainly still alive—and Kira knew she had to save him, not only to preserve his life, but to preserve all of their lives. Tahna was strong-willed, but he couldn’t hold out against Cardassian torture without eventually spilling secrets of the Shakaar and Kohn-Ma cells’ whereabouts. Nobody could.

Shakaar had managed to gather enough intelligence to suggest that Tahna would have been taken here, a makeshift interrogation center in a crumbling, abandoned section of Dahkur City, where they were questioned and decontaminated before being taken to their final destinations—usually prison camps, or in some cases, public execution. Kira could only hope that if it had been the latter, Shakaar would have heard something about it. There had been no reports of Cardassian executions since Tahna’s disappearance.

Kira was supposed to be staking out this place. She was deliberately chosen for most long-range reconnaissance because it had been determined that she was just small enough not to trip the Cardassian detection grid—she didn’t need a shielding device to go out, though she carried one, just the same. The others had planned on coming tomorrow, after Kira devised a plan of action for the most effective means of attack. But as she read the life sign on her handheld scanner, she knew that Tahna probably could not wait until tomorrow. She had already anticipated this possibility. Shakaar had firmly instructed her not to try anything on her own, but Kira didn’t see that she had a choice.

The facility had only a single guard, the Cardassians’ assumption that the detection grids would keep out unwelcome intruders acting as its own security device. Kira wasted little time in strategizing the best way to take out the guard without arousing the attention of anyone inside. She waited, squatting on the deteriorating cobblestone street between two sagging buildings where she could not be seen. Picking up a piece of the broken road in her hands, she threw the chunk of stone somewhere off to her left. The soldier reacted immediately, drawing his phaser and looking to the place where the stone had landed.

Kira drew back into the shadows, listening carefully to the sound of the sentry’s approaching footsteps, and then she sprang out noiselessly, praying that she would cast no shadows. But the soldier did not turn around when she approached. He bent down, examining the ground with his palm torch. “Voles,” he mumbled to himself. Kira took a wide step forward, just before he rose to his feet. He scarcely even made a sound when she leapt upon him, twisting his neck with all her might. A crack, a thud, his palmlight clattering on the uneven ground, and it was over.

She kept her phaser at the ready, trying to keep her senses balanced as she carefully approached the entrance of the facility. The more carefully she listened, the more she was certain she could hear someone crying. The sound was faint, fainter than her own heartbeat, but Kira knew that it was Tahna. Her resolve hardened as she crept through the unblocked doors.

It was here that she finally encountered a seated guard, but she was ready for him. She swung her leg up and around to connect with his ear before he could react—best not to use her phaser until absolutely necessary. He staggered from the blow, drawing his weapon. He was shaken, but not especially hurt. With Cardassians it was necessary to strike at just the right place, where the brittle cartilage on their faces was the most vulnerable. In the instant before he brought up his weapon, Kira leaned in and drove the heel of her hand into his mouth. She felt and heard the satisfactory crunch just above his upper lip. The Cardassian lost his disruptor as he fell, but Kira did not stop to pick it up. She scurried past him and kept going into a darkened corridor, following Tahna’s echoed groans and cries.

She walked as silently as she knew how, slipped around a corner—there, a Cardassian standing behind a computer console, and before he could even look up, she shot him in the chest with her phaser on its highest setting. He fell backward and seemed to take a very long time to hit the ground. Kira looked to see what he had been doing at the console and was immediately greeted with a grisly scene. Displayed across his viewscreen, Tahna Los hung from the ceiling of a dank corridor that must have been somewhere below her, judging from the sound of his screams, while two expressionless Cardassians were taking turns peeling back slices of flesh from his naked back. Tahna screamed in agony, and Kira threw her hands over her face, but not before she saw that the same Cardassians were carefully, painfully cauterizing the flesh back into place with a crude dermal regenerator, presumably so they could begin to cut once again, after his tender skin had artificially healed back into lumpy scar tissue.

Kira frantically pecked at the computer to try and assess Tahna’s location, but after an agonizingly long moment with no success, she decided instead to simply follow the sound of his terrible cries. She found a spiral staircase and quickly descended, discovering a dim and sweltering underground corridor with a line of three doors. Her ears were full of the sound of it now, and the echoing sound of the questions the Cardassians were putting to the hapless Tahna:

Kira Nerys—you know her. Where is she?

Had she really heard her own name? Or was her imagination just trying to amplify her own terror? It must be the latter, for their voices were muffled, in part by Tahna’s groans. He began to scream again, either determined not to tell them anything, or simply in so much pain that he couldn’t speak.

Thinking with some uncertainty that she had found the right door, she took out the lock with a quick burst of her phaser and let herself inside—to find that Tahna was not in this room at all. A nearly emaciated woman was chained to the wall by her wrists. For an instant, Kira thought she was dead, and almost turned to leave her—but the woman suddenly coughed up a bilious spew of green all down the front of the rags she was dressed in, and shuddered with the resultant coughing fit that followed. Appalled, Kira rushed to her, using her weapon to burn away the chains that bound her to the wall.

“Get out of here!” she whispered, but the corpselike figure made no move, only stared at her with confused, dead-seeming eyes.

“It’s too bright,” the woman complained, her voice husked and raw. “Shut the door.”

“You’re free, you have to go,” Kira insisted, but she could not afford the time it would take to help her, for Tahna’s strangled cries had begun again.

At the next door, Kira found her target—but there were three Cardassians in the dark, hot room, not the two she’d expected. She aimed the line of her phaser fire at the restraints that held Tahna to the ceiling, and as he fell to the ground she wasted no time in swinging the beam around to hit one of the two Cardassians who had been administering Tahna’s torture. The first one fell, but not before the other two Cardassians in the room could react. The nearest of them, the one she had not anticipated, managed to grab her, and the other relieved her of her phaser, though she kicked and screamed with all of her might.

“Tahna!” she cried. “Los!” But he lay completely still on the floor where he had fallen, apparently dead.