I'm not hesitant to participate in crossovers, as you all well
know; however, I won't be gratuitous about it. If there isn't something to say,
why bother?
On the other hand, if you do have a tale to tell, I'm all
for it; it gives a richness and continuity to stories that really makes them
seem more alive than if a series stands alone, so to speak.
Please note that this novelette was written long before the DS9 Avatar books were published. Thus,
the climax of the story is my own conception, and not at all derivative.
Heck, maybe they got it
from me.
"A Week
in the Life of Sito Jaxa"
By Joseph
Manno
“I assure you, Lieutenant, I have no
objections."
Sito Jaxa struggled to conceal a smile
after making her statement. Only the dour Marcus Lucius Aldus could receive
such wonderful news—and immediately attempt to ruin it for himself.
Not thirty seconds before, Captain
Mantovanni had, with a seemingly innocuous phrase, intercepted Sito's assistant
security chief even as she'd relieved him at tactical.
"In Romae viae omniae terminant,"
he'd stated, rather matter-of-factly. All
roads lead to
He'd turned, drawn himself to attention
and replied carefully, "So it is said, sir."
"And on Magna Roma, at least, it's
somewhat more than a literary conceit," the captain observed. "I've
just consulted your personnel records, Lieutenant. You haven't been there in
over ten years.
"Sir, I would very much appreciate
that!"
Abruptly, though, he'd frowned—perhaps
past his daily quota for happiness—and turned to Sito.
"I know you wish to run extensive
diagnostics, as well as a maintenance cycle, on
The Bajoran had glared in mock
severity.
"I believe it's in the
ship's best interests for its personnel to go home when the opportunity
presents itself. Or are you trying to say I can't handle the work myself?"
He'd smiled. "No,
ma'am. I am not. Then you have no objections?" he'd asked, and Sito
had then given her final OK.
"I've never seen a non-Vulcan so determined
to avoid fun," noted Hatshepsut, as she stretched with satisfying
thoroughness. There was a round of laughter, which Aldus absorbed with his
usual stoic grace.
It's
nice to see everyone in a good mood for a
change, Sito thought. Let's see how long it lasts.
"Speaking of fun,"
interjected Erika Benteen, "would it be possible for a few of us to
accompany the lieutenant, sir? I've always wanted to see Magna Roma for myself,
and I know for a fact Dr. Aiello would love to go."
"I believe that's a question for
Lieutenant Aldus, Commander," Mantovanni answered.
Sito's assistant seemed suddenly to
change expressions—from open and joyful to contemplative and a bit grim.
"Might I see you and Commander
Benteen in your ready room, sir?" he asked.
The Bajoran frowned.
Not long at all, I'd guess.
She got her answer quickly enough:
Parihn was summoned into the captain's sanctum
sanctorum a few moments later; when she, Benteen and Aldus emerged soon
afterwards, the only one who still
looked pleased was the Roman. He nodded politely to Sito, and then headed for
the turbolift a step behind the Orion.
"So, Marcus… did you find a way to
exclude me for professional reasons, or personal ones?"
Benteen's question, while stated in a
crisply well-modulated tone, was fraught with so many underpinnings Sito
couldn't catalogue them all.
Aldus promptly turned back, and
responded, "With all due
respect, Commander: Are you certain you wish to have this conversation right here, right now?"
She practically growled, "I'm
waiting, Lieutenant." Her near-furious glare swept the bridge; and
with two exceptions—Hatshepsut and Sito—everyone suddenly found their LCARS
displays to be of extreme interest. Even Parihn simply allowed the turbolift
doors to close and proceeded on her way rather than witness what was coming.
"Very well," Marcus answered
coldly. "I request you recall in the aftermath, Commander, that I did not choose this venue for our
conversation."
At her curt nod, he spoke.
"So be it. I do indeed have
reasons behind my desire to exclude you from this excursion. If some are
professional, they will remain unspoken, for to do otherwise would be
inappropriate. You are my superior officer, and I respect both the rank and uniform you wear." If there was
a question as to why he'd left any regard for her personally out of the statement, it soon became
clear.
That
would be a perfect place to stop, Marcus, Sito thought, while he paused for
breath.
She knew he wouldn't, though. Her
reactions, as well as his respect for her authority, were such that she could
have cut him off there and saved face for all… but something held her back.
It's
between the two of them, the Bajoran decided,
and watched the scene play itself out.
For a moment, Aldus seemed to hesitate,
perhaps debating silently whether he should continue. Benteen's expression,
though, didn't help matters. She was almost daring him to proceed.
Thus, he did so.
"I have, however, nothing but contempt for you personally.
If Starfleet in its wisdom sees fit to accept you as an officer after the
reprehensible actions in which you took part, I have no choice but to accept that, and it will not affect my ability to take your orders.
However, I am also a Roman citizen, a member of the Praetorian Guard and a
noble in the House of Aldus; and I have no
desire to see you set foot upon my estates, within the bounds of the city I
love… or, for that matter, anywhere
on my world.
"May
I be dismissed?"
Benteen, to her credit, maintained an
admirable composure. "Enjoy your trip, Lieutenant," she answered
stiffly.
Without a further word, he spun smartly
on his heel and strode into the lift.
As the door was closing behind him,
Lieutenant Commander Erika Benteen turned to the stunned bridge crew, and
announced grimly, "Not a word of this little exchange is to
reach the captain. Is that understood?"
There were murmurs of acknowledgment
all around. Even Hatshepsut, who'd certainly also considered
intervening, nodded in acquiescence to her demand.
The Bajoran, a few moments later,
motioned to the multi-talented Ensign T'Vaar; and, wordlessly, the Vulcan
assumed Sito's place at tactical.
When the doors of the turbolift closed
behind her, she stated determinedly, "Computer, locate Lieutenant
Aldus."
It promptly replied, "Lieutenant
Aldus is in his quarters."
She frowned, and bit her lip.
"Then by all means… proceed to
deck seven."
For the first time since Sito had known
him, Marcus Lucius Aldus did not answer his door chime on its first
sounding. She held it down more insistently on her second attempt… and the
invitation to enter he finally offered sounded like it
had come through gritted teeth.
He was obviously surprised at seeing
his supervisor in the doorway.
"You were expecting Commander
Benteen, perhaps?" Sito inquired.
"I was, sir." Aldus had
returned in a moment to his usual stoicism. The Roman motioned for her to enter
and sit; he moved back to the bed and continued packing a small case with
clothes and what looked to be a few personal effects.
"I apologize for not giving you my
full attention, Lieutenant; however, the captain seemed eager for us to be on
our way, and…"
"That little soliloquy on the bridge
didn't reflect well on my department, Marcus."
Her statement stopped him.
Aldus turned and regarded her as
angrily as he ever had.
"Respectfully, sir, I
disagree. I believe it something that should have been said to her long ago."
He seemed ready to add more, but fell into an intransigent silence instead.
Such contentious situations weren't
easy for Sito, who possessed what even most Vedeks called a gentle soul. The
fact that she'd chosen security as the branch in which to specialize was something
of a shock to those who'd known her in her pre-Starfleet days: Young Jaxa been
so kind-hearted, in fact, that she'd become known for brushing Bajoran haelek
beetles aside, rather than simply swatting them like everyone else did. The
vicious little creatures, which were some of the most annoying insects on her
home world—or any other world, for that matter—didn't invite compassion
from even those lauded for their patience. The famed mystic Vedek Jalar, for
example, had declared them "infinitesimal servants of the Pah
Wraiths" in her Treatise Against Heresy
700 years before.
Thus, no one who knew Sito could have
predicted her career path.
Carefully, she began again.
"And so you took it upon yourself
to address her publicly, in a forum which guarantees that it'll be all over
the ship in about a half-hour, despite her strictures against speaking on
the subject?"
"If she wished to avoid
embarrassment, she should have simply allowed me to leave," he stubbornly
insisted.
Sito realized that she wasn't getting
anywhere. She switched tactics.
"She made that statement to spare you
any difficulties, Marcus. If, she, Hatshepsut or I had gone to the
captain with what you said, he might have taken it personally… it was he,
after all, who made the decision to accept her as an officer aboard the
Aldus paled slightly.
"It was my understanding that Admiral
Pierce…" he began.
"Even Admiral Pierce wouldn't
place an officer here without Captain Mantovanni's approval. He specifically
asked for her; are you questioning his judgment?"
The Roman set his jaw, and gritted,
"If the captain has a weakness, it's his sometimes inappropriate
expressions of compassion. Even a noble heart is not always a right-thinking
one."
Sito tried to maintain a neutral
expression, but wasn't sure if she'd succeeded.
"I can see I've failed to make you
understand why your behavior was inappropriate. Let me put it this way:
If the captain had heard you address one of his officers in such a manner, even
after having been unwisely invited by her to do so, he probably
would not have handled it as graciously as the woman you think has
no grace.
"While on leave, I want you to
consider the phraseology you'll use when apologizing to Commander Benteen; and
you will apologize, make no mistake. Do you understand me, Lieutenant
Aldus?"
In a tone that indicated barely
suppressed anger, he answered, "I understand you clearly, Lieutenant Sito,
and will comply with your instructions as an obedient officer should."
"Good." She then turned and
departed, heading back for the bridge.
The Bajoran liked Marcus on a personal
level; she also thought he was an excellent officer. However, it was clear that
their relationship had been damaged by her foray to his quarters; for the first
time, she'd felt unwelcome in his presence.
Well, that's not important, right now;
he needs to learn a lesson, she thought. I'll
speak with him when he returns.
Sito probably would have handled things
a bit differently…
…if she'd known she'd never see him again.
"Entering Bajoran
space now, Commander… coming to 112, mark 72, which will bring us to Deep
Space Nine in approximately seven minutes."
"Very well, Ensign Arkin,"
Erika Benteen replied crisply. A touch of curiosity entered her voice, as she
inquired, "Ensign T'Vaar, what's the ship traffic like around the
station?"
The Vulcan immediately referred to her
sensor displays; and, a moment later, replied, "There are five vessels
berthed at docking rings, and two moored on lower pylons, respectively—as well
as nine ships of various configurations in orbit. With four exceptions, all are of Bajoran
registry."
The others weren't difficult to
distinguish, as Sito silently placed their approach angle on the viewer, and
gave the bridge crew a close-up look at each of them in turn.
The first, and largest, was a Romulan
starship—one of the new Valdore-class Warbirds that, until now, had been
little more than a feared rumor. Far
larger than the
Chancellor Martok's vessel, the IKS Rotarran,
had spent the last few months shuttling between Deep Space Nine, Earth
and Qo'nos, as the Klingon Empire's new leader struggled with the immense
problems a decade of near-constant war had left him.
The little ship wasn't at her best,
aesthetically speaking; the more cosmetic damage she'd incurred during the
final battle to retake Cardassia had yet to be repaired.
I don’t imagine it's particularly high
on the chancellor's list of priorities, either, Sito thought. She smiled slightly at the image of a Klingon
obsessively polishing a Bird-of-Prey in the same way a human would an old-Earth
hotrod.
It gets him where he's going, and
that's more than good enough.
The USS Saber, name vessel of
her class, was, by contrast, a veritable jewel. She'd come through the war
nearly unscathed, despite seeing significant action. Like the Rotarran,
she was a small but dangerous foe.
The other Starfleet ship, Sito knew,
was more powerful, but less fortunate: USS Masada had been one of the
first starships ambushed by Jem'Hadar fighters illegally crossing the Romulan
Neutral Zone in the months before the Star Empire joined the fighting. Her
captain, Amarian Sih'tarr, had fought brilliantly, but had been gravely wounded
in the battle.
…and then had died with the request
still on her lips.
Now, here she was, almost a
year-and-a-half later, completely refit and glistening in what must have been
the first days of her rebirth.
It made Sito want to weep with joy.
"Lieutenant?"
The distracted Bajoran shook her head,
recovered the string of conversation she'd missed and then responded.
"Aye, sir…
channel open."
"Deep Space Nine, this is
the starship
After a momentary delay, the screen's
image changed to that of a strongly attractive Bajoran woman dressed in the
uniform of the planetary militia.
"This is Colonel Kira; you are
cleared to dock at upper pylon one,
Benteen nodded. "They are."
She motioned to Sito, who adjusted the pickup from a tight focus on Erika to
encompass much of the bridge.
"Welcome home. I've been
instructed to inform you both that Vedek Maral requires your presence. Beam
over and report to conference room one immediately."
Sito could immediately tell Benteen was
annoyed at the peremptory nature of the summons: To order someone off another
person's ship without so much as a "by your leave" was practically
unheard of, but not entirely surprising, coming from the hard-nosed Kira Nerys.
"They'll report directly after
their duty shift, Colonel," she answered pointedly. "That'll be
approximately 45 minutes from now."
Kira's expression was unreadable, but
her tone was cool.
"The Vedek is unaccustomed to
waiting, Lieutenant Commander…" she
emphasized the difference in rank quite strongly, "…and I've been told
that this matter is of vital importance to the future of Bajor. 'Immediately' wasn't a request; you'll beam them
over… now."
Sito held her breath, hoping that the
exchange didn’t become an incident.
That's what's
my people call "subtle political pressure," she thought.
Erika, fortunately, kept her composure.
"Well, I don't imagine we'll be
needing flight and tactical officers once we're docked, Colonel. They'll report
upon completion of said procedure."
Kira's expression narrowly avoided the
status of a sneer. "Thank you. DS9 out."
"You heard the colonel,
ladies," Benteen stated quietly, as the screen returned to a view of the
"You have places to go, and Vedeks
to see.
"Dismissed."
***
"I wonder what this is about,
Jaxa."
Arkin Jora had taken to calling Sito by
her personal name; she didn't recall having given the young officer permission,
either implied or direct, to do so. It seemed to have started only a few
days ago—just after Parihn had left with the captain and Lieutenant Aldus for
the Roman home world.
Sito probably wouldn't have noticed it
at all, if she hadn't sensed that Arkin felt some sort of camaraderie she
simply didn't. It wasn't as if such a minor breach of protocol was really
important—Jaxa simply preferred to select her friends, as opposed to
having friendship assumed through simple filial association.
The main briefing lounge beckoned, and
they quickened their pace.
It became immediately apparent they weren’t the only ones to have
been summoned: No less than nine other Starfleet members—ranging in rank from
cadet first class to Sito’s own lieutenant—were present, milling about
uncertainly in their wait for Vedek Maral.
A voice beside her asked, in an obviously annoyed tone, “And you two are?”
Jaxa glanced left. Standing at her arm was a rather nattily
dressed Bajoran; the exactingly trim cut of the blue suit he wore marked him as
someone who had either the time or the servants to devote towards such details.
Carefully, she pointed to her companion, and replied, “This is
Ensign Arkin Jora of the starship Argus.
I’m Lieutenant Sito Jaxa, off the USS Liberty.”
He absorbed their names, sniffed disdainfully once, and then
answered, “Good. You two are the last ones for whom we were waiting. The Vedek doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” and he
leaned forward to emphasize his next words further, “and I don’t like to keep
him waiting.”
It was all Sito could do not to burst into laughter at the little man’s
impertinence.
Jora wasn’t so restrained.
“Well, we’re here now,” the younger woman observed
pointedly. “Perhaps instead of berating us you could get on with it.”
The official was obviously unused to those with the temerity to
actually talk back. He withdrew in almost comical surprise, and huffed his way
into the next room.
Sito had never before seen Vedek Maral. She had to admit, he was a
striking figure of a man: Tall; lean; and possessing that almost-wild intensity
that bespoke of long-time asceticism. He took in the room’s occupants with what
looked to be impatience, dismissing one after another in his search—until his
gaze fell upon her.
Then, his eyes seemed to brighten even further—towards madness? Sito thought
nervously—and approached until he loomed before her like a black storm cloud.
With difficulty, she managed not to flinch as he took what turned
out to be a surprisingly gentle grasp of her ear.
“Fear not, child. The Prophets intend nothing but happiness for
you,” he whispered.
It was an odd statement to hear on the lips of a Vedek known to be
from the
It was her rumored “secret writings” around which the
Thus, to be reassured by one was anything but reassuring.
“Your pagh is strong,”
he noted, “but it is a strength gained through hardship and exertion. You will
do well on the path to which the Prophets have called you.” He gave no
elucidation of his statement, but instead raised his voice slightly.
Such was his command of the room that silence fell immediately.
“My children,” he began, “you have spread your wings in
explorations of space, and sharpened your talons on dreadful foes. Your courage
and skills are unquestioned; you were Bajor's gift to the Federation.” For a
moment he paused.
His words are a little
floridly metaphorical for my taste, Sito mused,
but his gift for oratory is pretty
impressive. He already has them all rapt—well, except for Jora.
Argus’ helmsman was, of course, paying polite attention, but Sito
thought she could detect a hint of boredom in the younger girl’s expression.
She’d grown up around Vedeks; thus, they impressed her less, no doubt.
The next part of his little speech, though, got everyone’s
attention.
“A new time in your lives beckons, however. The Prophets call upon
you now to serve them more intimately than your Starfleet careers have hitherto
allowed.” He gestured to his attaché, who activated the conference room’s view
screen.
“What you are about to see has been kept in the strictest secrecy
by the Bajoran government until now; even our Federation allies have no idea
about it.” The screen brightened to show what seemed to be an orbital
shipbuilding facility; the lattices and small work-tugs indicated that much.
There in the center of the picture, was a ship—a beautiful ship.
She reminded Sito of nothing so much as a Ketha star falcon,
the sleek birds-of-prey she knew were native to Bajor’s northern mountain
ranges.
There were a few “ohs” of wonder and admiration from the assembled
personnel: They, too, had been impressed.
“She is Bajor’s first
warp-capable vessel, and the flagship of the new Bajoran Star Navy; her name is
Emissary.” This time he waited a bit
longer before continuing.
“She is your ship. You,
and the other Bajorans serving in Starfleet, are to be her crew.
Congratulations; you have the blessing of the Prophets.”
Maral bowed to them all, and swept from the room; his attaché
remained behind and observed the group.
There was a burst of excited conversation from most of those
assembled, ranging from simple surprise to an enthusiasm bordering on fervor.
Once again, Arkin Jora was an exception. She frowned slightly, and
approached the official again.
Curious, Sito followed.
“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t get your name,” she began.
“I am Minister Jadel, personal advisor to Vedek Maral,” he
answered almost indignantly—as if the idea that someone might not have heard of him was absurd, or
even offensive.
“Well, Minister,” she
emphasized the title with surprising courtesy, “I’m extremely flattered that
the Bajoran government desires to have me serve on the Emissary, but I’m quite happy aboard the Argus. I think you’ll have to go elsewhere for your pilot.”
He seemed astonished. “I beg your pardon?”
Now Jora seemed to grow a little more annoyed.
“I don’t want the job, Minister. I’m opting to stay with the Argus.”
Jadel smiled. Sito felt a cold finger touch her heart as she
recognized his expression; she’d seen it before on others who loved to give
people tragic news.
“You don’t have that
option, Ensign. This is not a
voluntary assignment; you are directed
by the Bajoran government to assume the position of chief pilot for the Emissary.”
Jora, dismayed, breathed, “You… can’t do that. You have no
right…!”
Smirking, Jadel countered, “The Council of Ministers voted on it,
the First Minister approved it and the Kai endorsed it. That means we can do it and we have every right, young woman. You will
report aboard…”, and he raised his voice angrily,
“…you will all report aboard the Emissary by 0700 hours, Stardate
53555.2. That gives you more than
enough time—52 hours, I believe—to settle whatever personal affairs you must
before changing assignments.” He then folded his arms.
“That will be all.”
Arkin Jora clenched her fists and took a step towards him.
Fortunately, Sito had anticipated the action by noting her body language in the
seconds before, and stepped in front of her.
“Report back to the
The younger woman almost tried to go around her, but thought
better of it. She turned and practically sprinted out the door, nearly in
tears.
Then it was Sito’s turn. She approached Minister Jadel until they
were eye-to-eye.
“With all due respect, Minister, it’s one thing to be the bearer
of bad tidings; it’s another to relish it. I don’t have to be a Vedek, a mystic
or a prophet to predict what’ll happen if you ever use that dismissive, snotty tone of voice with a Starfleet
officer again. Am I making myself clear,
sir?”
“You can’t speak to me
like that…!” he tried.
“And you can’t speak to her like that,” Sito countered firmly.
“I’m so glad we understand one another, Minister.
"You have a nice day.”
As she was leaving the conference room, though, he had the last
word.
“I’ll see you both
within 52 hours, Lieutenant… you have a
nice day, too."
***
“I don’t want to serve aboard the Emissary!”
With that, Arkin Jora lashed out again at the Cardassian soldier
she was currently pummeling; her blow crushed his larynx, and he fell gurgling
to the floor—only to disappear in a shimmer of dissipating holographic energy.
Sito sighed. The two of them had spent much of the last 12 hours
together, commiserating silently over hasperat,
holodeck violence and Haagen-Daas.
Unfortunately, Jora didn’t seem any more reconciled to their fate.
“You have to start getting used to the idea; there’s little we can
do about it. It’s our duty to Bajor.”
“What about my duty to myself, Jaxa?” Jora asked angrily. “I’m happy aboard the Argus. Besides, the will of the Prophets isn’t the same as the declaration of the Council of Ministers. I
don’t care if they think they have
the authority or not; they don’t tell me how to run my life!”
“What about the endorsement of the Kai?” Sito didn’t at all like
where this conversation was headed; she could see more clearly than Jora the
direction the young woman’s anger was beginning to take her. There was little
she could do to halt it, though.
Arkin's face then grew a crafty expression.
“An endorsement isn’t
the same as a decree,” Argus’ pilot
reasoned. “Besides, exceptions can be made.”
"You are, as Commander Benteen says, 'splitting hairs,'"
Sito told her, as gently as she could.
“We’ll see,” she
declared. “My uncle is a Vedek—an important
one. If he intercedes on my behalf with the Kai, maybe I can stay aboard
the Argus.”
“Maybe,” Sito agreed.
But if I were a betting woman, she silently added, I’d go with “no.”
She sounded the door chime sounded, once.
"Come."
Mantovanni didn't even look up from the tabletop view screen for a
long moment; from what she could see, he was looking at Starfleet Command's
latest tactical analysis of the Romulan Neutral Zone—complete with speculations
on the current deployment of vessels the Federation had noted as being "of
special interest"—ships like Tomalak's warbird, Decius; Sela's command, Rea's
Helm; and of course, Khazara.
Always looking for an edge, aren't you, sir? she thought.
"Captain?"
At last he looked up, and beckoned. "Come in, Ensign."
The tiny Bajoran made her way over to stand stiffly at attention in front of
his desk, her eyes focused on the Vulcan Shar'ien
blade which hung on the back wall of his ready room. She struggled to master
herself, and believed she'd succeeded—for the moment, at any rate.
"Sito?"
She took a deep breath, and let it out with, "Permission to
speak freely, sir?"
"Of course, Ensign, and... at ease."
Not as simple a matter as you might think, Captain.
What was she doing here? Of Alexios' five hundred-plus crew, there were perhaps ten or fifteen
left on board for her refit. The rest had dispersed on various and sundry
leaves, temporary postings, and permanent reassignments. She'd gotten his
approval for passage to Bajor only yesterday.
She should have just gone.
Sito watched as his fingers called up the connecting transports on
the terminal, and after a moment, he looked up at her.
"Did you miss your chance home, Ensign?"
She nodded.
"Intentionally, sir."
After a full minute of mutual staring—during which the young
Bajoran stood poised on the very brink of saying something, anything—Mantovanni
raised a brow.
"I can't very well answer any questions unless you ask
some, Ensign."
Sito took a deep breath, and plunged ahead. "It's about our
mind-meld, sir." She could see his expression change; that impenetrable
mask dropped over his features.
Some months before, the Excelsior-class USS Hood—with Mantovanni aboard as an
"observer" during his acclimation to the 24th century—had
found Sito, more dead than alive, adrift in a Cardassian shuttle pod near the
Federation border. Her last posting had been aboard the Enterprise-D;
Captain Picard had sent her on a covert operations assignment to assist a
Cardassian double agent in his return home.
She'd failed to reach her rendezvous point in time, and pressing
mission requirements had forced
That had been far from the case.
Her story had been terrible: After surviving travails even the
personnel at Starfleet Intelligence had been shocked to hear about in her
debriefing, she'd managed to escape and stow away on a small Cardassian
shuttle. Unfortunately, though, she’d been discovered and severely beaten by
the trio of soldiers aboard. She was so small, they'd
considered her no possible threat to them after they'd "subdued" her.
As they'd fallen to arguing among themselves over who'd have her first, she'd
produced the phaser she’d concealed on her person and stunned two.
The third had reached her, though.
She'd never killed anyone before; and had been forced by
circumstance to do it not once, but three times in swift succession. She'd
broken the overconfident third soldier's neck with a vicious mok’bara maneuver; and, faint from pain
and loss of blood, could think of nothing else in her agonized state but to
purge the three from the airlock. The last thing she remembered before losing
consciousness was changing the small shuttle's course towards the rendezvous
point—almost two months too late.
She'd been brought back to a peripheral awareness by gentle,
urgent hands and concerned voices; they were distant, but she could understand
them, for all it seemed to matter.
When she'd been taken aboard the Hood, she'd heard Dr. Varrin tell Captains DeSoto and Mantovanni
that her body had been pushed beyond endurance, but that what he could only
assume was pure determination had kept her alive until she'd been found. Her
willpower had run out, though; the internal injuries were severe, and according
to him, she simply wouldn't survive an operation in her current state. There
was nothing he could do, medically speaking. She was drifting away from them,
and would eventually fade, fail and die.
Sito had known there was something wrong about that; she didn't
really want to leave, but had been so very tired….
The one she'd heard called Mantovanni had then, without a word,
disappeared for a few moments; when he'd returned he'd had with him a woman she
later learned was Hood 's science officer,
Lieutenant T'Miir. They'd taken a position behind her head… and initiated a
mind-meld.
What they'd attempted could easily have killed them all.
Neither could have reached her alone: T'Miir had the capability,
but no inclination to risk herself in what seemed an illogical endeavor to
preserve a life that had dwindled to near nothingness.
Mantovanni, Sito learned later, though, could be very persuasive.
Even though it was far more likely he'd die trying to help her then actually
succeed, he'd gotten T'Miir to form a mental conduit between him and her. Like
lowering another person into a raging river to grab a victim trapped in the
torrent—someone that you couldn't reach by yourself—T'Miir used her skills to
let the captain look for Sito in the recesses of her own mind, while serving
both as his anchor and the means to pull them both back if he was successful.
Against all odds, he'd succeeded in finding her; and T'Miir had,
with an enormous effort of will, managed to retrieve them both.
When, months later, the Cardassian programming she'd had implanted
attempted to assert itself and make her into an agent of the Obsidian Order, it
had been both her determination and the vestiges of the bond they’d all shared
that enabled her to fight it, and finally triumph.
“You've already thanked me, Ensign. Nothing else need be
said." He put his fingers to his temples, as if attempting to forestall a
headache.
"Please don't try to dismiss me with protocol." She took
his silence as a sign to continue. "I... I know things about
you."
In reply, Mantovanni's tone was harsh; its blame was directed
inward, though.
"You were so far gone, that... I'm sorry. The meld became a
fusion. We know certain things about each other that even some Vulcan bond
mates keep walled off. I didn't mean for it to happen." He looked up at
her with what he hoped resembled composure. "I can arrange to help you
forget..."
"That's not why I came here," she snapped.
Angrily, she made for the door.
His voice took on the crack of command. "Sito!" That brought
her up short. She stiffened into a reasonable imitation of attention, her back
to him.
"Turn around," he instructed her with the same
authority, yet less volume. She pivoted with a cadet's perfect about face, and
put on her bright-eyed vacant "young officer stare"—the one that
prevented you from reacting at all.
He was having none of it.
"Don't look past or
through me, Jaxa. Look at me."
Despite her embarrassment and unwillingness, she did so.
He sighed. "You don't understand. This didn't happen through
your choice. I forced it on you. There are those on Vulcan that I could end up
having to answer to concerning this incident. In addition, I put T'Miir in a
difficult ethical position by asking her to do what we did."
Sito, despite herself, was surprised and curious. "How so?"
"Vulcans are more easily persuaded than most people realize.
You just have to know which questions to ask, which observations to make—which
buttons to push. There are those who would consider what she and I did to you
worse than what the Cardassians did. Enforced intimacy, whether intentional or
not, is one of Vulcan's few remaining capital crimes, in its most aggravated
circumstances; and I am, despite my humanity, a Vulcan citizen, and subject to
all their strictures on the use of my skills. T'Miir felt compelled to report
what had occurred to the Vulcan authorities. They have yet to render judgment.”
"You saved my life. The Prophets—yours or mine—don't let things happen without a reason." Her lips curled
into a small smile. "Did you do anything to twist my young mind,
sir?"
He smiled slightly, and shook his head no. "Nothing more than being exposed to mine—which more than
few would say was bad enough. A Vulcan review board, however," he added,
"may not have as beneficent an opinion of what I've done. T'Miir could be
in serious trouble as well—even more so than I, if they choose to be
particularly obdurate; it was she, after all, that was the catalyst for what
occurred.
"I, though, am a firm believer that it's often easier to ask
for forgiveness than permission."
Sito nodded. "I'm glad you are, sir... and I'll remember that
for when I need to use such a stance with you." At his sharp glance, she
told him, "If it works for milnareth, it works for shalnareth.
“You'll just have to acknowledge that, in a way, whether you like it or not, someone
knows you almost as well as you know yourself… and will never forget what you did for her. We Bajorans are loyal to a
fault. You’ll never be rid of me,
Captain…
"…and you’d better not
try to reassign me.”
Mantovanni arched a brow. “Indeed? Well, I could think of worse
fates than to have gained a friend.
“Now get out,” he scolded gently. "I have work
to do, and you have leave coming."
“Aye, Captain,” she acknowledged, grinning impishly in return.
As the door closed, she added a final statement—much to his
chagrin.
“Oh, by the way... I think you’re
cute, too.”
"I'm sorry, Jora, it's out of the question."
Sito Jaxa noted that Vedek Arkin didn't look particularly happy at
having to disappoint his niece; but he didn't seem especially upset, either.
She, however, wasn't handling it with the same equanimity.
"Why?" she demanded. "I hear nothing about this starship
while it's being constructed, and now suddenly it's supposed to be my new home,
without so much as a 'What would you like, Jora?' being offered—not that
that would've changed anything."
Her uncle tried to calm her.
"Jora, we all have our duties. The Prophets call us to…"
he began, but she cut him off rather brutally.
"Spare me the Prophetic platitudes! This is not a case
of someone having a vision, and a declaration being made that calls us to
service. This is a directive from the Kai, plain and simple! Someone obviously
thought this was a good way to steal highly trained officers from Starfleet for
the new 'Bajoran Star Navy,' as they're calling it. The Kai then decided to
throw her theological weight behind it."
Vedek Arkin put his head in his hands; Sito imagined he was
thanking those selfsame Prophets that the walls of the monastery were
stone—thick, impenetrable stone. While on one level, Sito was pleased to see
that Jora had puzzled out what were probably the Kai's political maneuverings, she was dismayed at her harangue—especially
directed as it was at her own blood kin.
"I don't suggest you repeat that sentiment outside this room,
young lady," he told her quietly, but pointedly.
"And why not? Will they censure me? Will I be declared 'a servant of the Pah
Wraiths' because I disagree with the Kai?"
The cleric glanced at Sito in silent appeal, as if to say,
"Doesn't she listen to you?"
I can't help you, Vedek, she
thought. And I'm not sure I'd want to do so even if I could. Frankly, I'd
like to hear your answer myself.
Unfortunately, what she had to say was, "It's time we
were going, Jora. We have to be back at Deep Space
Nine in time for…"
"…for me to lose control over my own life? I thought Bajorans
fought for freedom all those years—freedom and self-determination, not
freedom to have other Bajorans dictate to me, instead of
Cardassians. Last time, Uncle… will you appeal to the Kai on my behalf? I know
you think this is wrong. Will you stand up and say so?"
A long moment passed.
Sadly, the old man shook his head. "I can't."
Sito had a flash of insight. "They're threatening you
somehow, aren't they?"
Vedek Arkin lowered his eyes, and then nodded.
"This monastery is built on deposits of maracite… if we lose
our protected status as a religious refuge, the government could simply evict
us lawfully and mine the ore. It would be a significant boost to the local
economy, I'm told," he finished.
"You coward," Jora
whispered.
"That's enough, Ensign," Sito ordered firmly.
"Go prep the
In what was almost a comical gesture, the younger woman tossed her
head, and strode out the door without a second glance.
For a moment, Sito and Vedek Arkin studied each other. Then Arkin
sighed.
"She doesn't understand the reality of the situation,"
he reasoned.
Sito shook her head, and turned to go. As she reached the door,
she halted for a moment. "No, Vedek. I think it's just that she believed
you all those years when you said you served a higher reality.
"It's hard to realize something like that was a lie."
***
The ride back from Bajor was somewhat less than pleasant. They'd
remained in a frosty silence the entire way, speaking only as necessary to
guide
After they'd landed and disembarked, though, Jora followed Sito
out of the main shuttle bay, dogging her heels.
"You didn't have to order me out of the room. He's my
uncle," she protested.
"If you hadn't told me that before we'd decided to visit, I
never would have known by the way you treated him," Sito replied.
"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"
The older woman sighed.
"It means you've been acting more and more childishly as the
specifics of the situation became apparent."
Arkin Jora's expression grew indignant.
"With all due respect, Lieutenant," she said
stiffly, "I don't tell you how to behave."
"True enough, Ensign. That has something to do with the fact
that usually, I don't need to be told how to behave. It's become obvious
that—at least in this case—you do."
Sito knew she wasn't handling the situation well at all. Her words
were more than a little antagonistic, but her own frustration at the impending
end of her Starfleet career, coupled with Jora's petulance, had finally
combined into a genuine state of aggravation.
"You know what the difference between us is, Jora?" she
asked.
"Let's see: My most famous moment as a pilot is a rescue;
yours is a crash. Is that what you mean?"
Sito had heard every variation of that particular type of insult
since the Nova Squadron incident of almost a decade ago; while, inwardly, she
acknowledged Jora's as a particularly sharp variant, she was unfazed by it.
Instead of returning a caustic response, Sito pursued the point she wanted to
make.
"No, Jora; it's that throughout this little incident,
you've been lobbying to evade this assignment on behalf of yourself. You've
never mentioned the other Bajorans whose lives will be turned upside down by
this.
"Instead, it's all been about your life, how you're
inconvenienced, how it's not fair to you.
"Frankly, I'm sick of it."
She'd half expected the younger woman to take a swing at her, and
wasn't disappointed.
Jora was actually a little bigger than Sito—which impressed
Arkin Jora wasn't exactly a challenge.
Using a combination of movements derived from Worf's mok'bara
and the captain's aikijutsu, she avoided the punch, and gently… persuaded
her opponent into an intimate, face-first encounter with the bulkhead behind
her.
"I'm going to assume you slipped. Is that correct?"
Jora, angry and frustrated, struggled for a moment, breathing
raggedly; eventually, though, she calmed down.
"Sorry," she mumbled.
Sito immediately released her.
"It never happened." Her expression grew gentle.
"Now step back from your emotions and think. What else can we do
that we haven't already done?"
Jora laughed bitterly, and turned towards the bay doors.
"I'd say pray, Jaxa… but somehow, it just doesn't seem
appropriate."
***
"Thank you for seeing me, Colonel."
Kira Nerys nodded, and motioned her guest towards the empty chair
in the office.
Sito noted that it was oddly decorated—unless one were a
particularly cosmopolitan Bajoran, that is: Among the ornaments adorning the
desk were an amalgam of gears and pulleys arranged in a pattern she found
artful and compelling—a clock, she assumed, from the looks of it—as well as a
small stand upon which was perched a game sphere of some sort. Neither were
Bajoran in origin, of that much she was certain.
"Now," Kira began, in a tone that indicated she was a very
busy woman, "what can I do for you, Lieutenant?"
Sito drew in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, then released it with a certain deliberation. Just before
Kira could express what was obviously a growing impatience
with anything more than a glare, she admitted, "I'm not precisely
sure… but I've heard from more than one person that you have a reputation for
fairness, and standing up for what's right—no matter the cost."
Kira smiled then, a little sourly, and replied, "That sounds
like something a person says when they want you to 'stand up' for them,
Lieutenant."
Blunt, but obviously not stupid,
Sito conceded. So much for flattery getting me anywhere.
She decided to be straightforward in return.
"What are your instructions as pertain to Bajoran nationals
who refuse to report aboard the Emissary by the appointed time,
Colonel?"
Kira's mouth dropped open in surprise; just as quickly, she
snapped it shut in irritation.
"What makes you think I have any orders regarding that
particular contingency?"
"Vedek Maral's assistant, Jadel, struck me as the kind of man
who'd enjoy using his position to impose policy on you."
For a moment, it seemed as if Kira had forgotten herself.
"That little vole," she
growled. "I've been ordered to 'escort' any Bajoran on the station who
hasn't reported by the appropriate time to their new assignment."
"Impressment," Sito muttered, shaking her head in
disbelief. "Who would ever have imagined it'd come to that?" She then
searched Kira's face. "Will you do it?"
Sito knew more than a
little about Kira Nerys: She had been one of Bajor's most relentless freedom
fighters, even going so far as to maintain ties with the Conn'Ma when
the Cardassians had finally been driven away the first time in 2368. Her
passion and drive to see her people safe and prosperous had forced Kira into
learning some of the intricacies of political maneuvering. By all accounts,
she'd thrown herself into that as determinedly, if not quite as
enthusiastically, as she once had into killing Cardassians—all the while
protesting that she "wasn't a politician."
Sito found herself
recalling von Klauswitz, from the Academy's required reading list: "War is
the continuation of politics by other means." With Kira, evidently, the
reverse had become true.
The colonel finally
replied.
"I thought I'd wait
and hear what the Kai had to say about it—if anything."
Sito realized, belatedly,
that she must have been staring uncomprehendingly, because Kira added,
"She's addressing the Council of Ministers and the Vedek Assembly in just
a few minutes. You didn't know?" Her expression was skeptical.
"No. I've been...
preoccupied." What she left unsaid was, running around with an
angst-ridden kid, and trying not to revert into one myself.
Kira in turn now scanned her
expression—presumably for signs of deception—and then evidently decided there
were none. Again, she gestured expansively to a chair, and announced,
"Well, then, you're more than welcome to stick around. One way or another,
it should be a hell of a show."
The Bajorans as a people
were perplexed, that much was certain. During the long years of the Cardassian
occupation, many had looked to the Kai for spiritual strength and the will to
endure. When Opaka had revealed Captain Benjamin Sisko to be the long-awaited
Emissary of the Prophets, most had believed an age of unprecedented prosperity
and spiritual growth was at hand.
Then their beloved Kai had
been lost in the Gamma Quadrant, and the competition to succeed her had proven
to be some of the most heated and vicious in Bajoran history.
It had ended with Vedek
Winn as Kai; her obvious enmity for the Emissary and resentment over his
immense popularity had been all the opening the Pah Wraiths required. Winn's
spiraling descent into an abyss of evil had only been fully revealed after her
death; it had left the image of the Kai as an unquestioned bastion of purity
and light horribly tarnished.
The new Kai had been chosen
with the utmost care, after a great deal of private prayer, and not a few
public opinion polls: Vedek Umar Qalav had been known as something of a
conservative; her piety was beyond reproach, though, and in the wake of Winn's
depredations, that was a paramount consideration. In addition, that she was
extremely old was considered a benison by the politically astute: If she proved
to be a less than competent Kai, her reign would only last for a short time
before she failed of natural causes, and another succeeded her; if she was
popular and beloved, her funeral would restore sympathy for her office.
This would mark the first
time she'd addressed the Bajoran people in toto.
None of this was lost on
either Kira Nerys or Sito Jaxa. When ops signaled that the transmission
was about to begin, Kira acknowledged it, then fell silent as she activated the
office's viewer.
For Bajorans everywhere,
existence slowed, as the image of Kai Umar, Elect of the Prophets, appeared.
Both women gasped. She was
in full regalia, which meant she considered the matter a spiritual one of the
utmost importance. In her hands was the Staff of Tiran, according to legend
given into the hands of Kai herself—for whom the office was now named—millennia
ago by an actual Prophet. Only truth could be spoken while holding the staff,
it was said.
It had not been seen since
the disappearance of Kai Opaka.
Her gaze was joyful.
"Bajor is poised to begin a glorious new era in its history:
Our artisans and craftsmen, engineers and shipwrights have wrought a
star-seeking wonder: Bajor's first warp-capable ship—which I have named Emissary, to honor him who saved us.
"I thought it good
and just to return our young people who have sought the stars to our world,
where they might take their place aboard her, and guide her to her
destiny."
Then, her face became troubled.
"I have heard,
though, that some young Bajorans would prefer to remain in Starfleet service;
this is understandable. The Federation is rich, and vast, and its power is very
great; Prophets willing, its people will now embark on a long path of peace and
enlightenment, now that the war is over.
"Bajor, however, is
not a member of the United Federation of Planets, by the Emissary's own decree.
We have our own responsibilities, our own problems… and, most importantly, our
own ways. Despite our friendship with the Federation, their methods are not
always our methods, and their goals often differ from ours.
"We of Bajor are summoned
to the service of a higher power than that which customarily guides our allies…
and we must obey such a call, no matter the personal cost.
"This is one of
those times: Opaka, who we loved, is gone; Winn fell into evil, and only the
Prophets can judge her now; the Emissary has left us to be with them, as his
reward for faithful service.
"Inadequate to the
task I may prove; but still, I am Kai… and I shall be obeyed."
Finally, her expression grew stern.
"Let it be known
that the decree recalling all Bajoran personnel serving in Starfleet was not as
a result of governmental maneuverings; it was my decision alone, made after long weeks of prayer and
contemplation. I shall not call it the will of the Prophets, as I believe that
need not be said. For it is in my thought that if a Kai is of proper intent,
then his or her word should be obeyed as if the Prophets themselves had so
decreed.”
She then paused—whether for effect, breath or a little of each,
Sito wasn't certain. When she continued, though, it was with the finality of
certitude, and the power of a doomsayer.
"I am the Kai; I
hold the Staff of
She bowed her head, and the screen darkened.
After a long moment, Kira leveled a regretful, determined gaze at
Sito.
"In answer to your question… I'll do my duty."
Sito nodded.
There really wasn't anything more to say.
"Do you have a moment?" asked Sito.
Benteen straightened her posture slightly, but kept her back to
the Bajoran and her gaze determinedly towards the observation lounge window.
Jaxa knew it was just a simple pose; after all, Erika had, from this vantage
point, a spectacularly scenic view of lower pylon two.
"Of course, Lieutenant; what's on your mind?"
"Decisions. Mine, Jora's… and yours."
At that, Benteen turned, a startled expression overwhelming what
looked to have been stiff-lipped irritation.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
Sito frowned. "All Bajoran Starfleet officers are supposed to
report aboard the Emissary in exactly seven minutes. Arkin Jora has no intention of going. I'm… undecided.
"It's obvious, though, that you've considered granting
Arkin—and any other Bajoran who wants it—asylum in the Federation by permitting
them to either remain or come aboard the
Benteen's face went from surprised to absolutely stunned.
"How could you know I was thinking that?"
Now Sito grinned slightly. "Because you're
faithfully trying to do what Captain Mantovanni would in the same situation.
Despite his inscrutability in most circumstances, the way he'd react when
someone attempted to force their own agenda on him is rather predictable—especially
when you once had occasion to mind-meld with him. He doesn't like being, as he
might say, 'muscled.'"
Erika smiled briefly; then concern overwhelmed her and she
returned to the worried grimace.
"There are already five Bajorans aboard," she told the
younger woman. "Ostensibly they're getting a look at a Sovereign-class,
but we all know why they're really here—Colonel Kira included."
Sito nodded.
"I've been asking this question a lot lately, but… you're
surely aware my people won't take 'no,' however politely it's phrased, for an
answer. What are you going to do, then?"
The amused expression returned, but it was a little bitter this
time around.
"No doubt I'll refuse to cooperate; the Bajorans will
bluster, threaten and then contact someone of higher rank—either Commander Suleiman
of the Saber or acting Captain Carstairs of the Masada—and
request that they relieve me of command pending Captain Mantovanni's return.
I'll make a pretty speech about freedom and self-determination, and then… well,
we'll see where it goes from there."
Sito gently reminded, "You're probably not the person who
should be doing this, Commander. I don't think Starfleet will be too forgiving—especially
of you—if you decide to defy them. You know they're just looking for an
excuse to get rid of you. This would provide the perfect justification."
Benteen's comm badge beeped.
"We are receiving a hail from Deep Space Nine, Commander," T'Vaar announced. "Colonel
Kira demands to speak with you."
She replied, "I'll be on the bridge in a moment. Tell her to
stand by; she'll love that."
Both women smiled; they could visualize T'Vaar arching a brow, as
she responded, "Aye, sir."
Erika wasn't done. She tapped the little device again, and
ordered, "This is Commander Benteen. All Bajoran personnel aboard the
Sito looked startled. "And I thought the captain was a
little confrontational."
Benteen strode past her towards what would certainly prove to be
an unpleasant conversation with Kira Nerys.
"Like you said," she agreed, "I'm just trying to do
what he'd do."
"I'm leaving."
Sito Jaxa stared in bleary-eyed disbelief at Cadet First Class
Jean Hajar, who'd appeared before her door—at 0245 hours, no less—wearing
wrinkled civilian clothes and what looked to be a hastily packed duffel bag
thrown over her shoulder.
"W-Why?" she finally stammered, even as Hajar trudged
past her and slumped into a chair. "After all this time?
We're three months from graduation. There's no reason to leave now!"
Her former teammate shrugged, and averted her gaze.
The two had once been close; each had been one of
…until that fateful day off Saturn, when their friend and fellow,
Joshua Albert, had died during a foolhardy attempt to perform a forbidden
flight maneuver. Instead of coming forward immediately, the two, along with
The truth, though—no thanks to her or Hajar, she admitted ruefully—had
come to light eventually. The entire group, with the exception of the
ringleader,
It had left the three who'd been permitted to remain with two
agonizing years of ostracism ahead of them: The rest of the Academy's cadets
had immediately closed ranks, and they'd been effectively isolated from any
friendship or aid. It had taken its toll, eventually; Wesley Crusher, the
youngest of them, had gone on break and simply never returned. She and Hajar
had been left to struggle on alone.
Sito had been finally beginning to think they'd make it.
"What happened, Jean? Please, you can't just leave. You've
got to talk to me!"
Hajar's expression was terrible to behold.
She whispered, "It's Josh, Jaxa. I've been dreaming about him
again."
Sito had heard about someone looking "haunted," but had
never actually seen it—until now. Jean's normally healthy complexion had faded
to a literal pall. Her hands were shaking. "He keeps telling me I have no
right to graduate when he won't."
"You can't think it's really him, Jean!" Sito
knelt near Hajar's chair, and took her hand. "Josh wasn't vicious or
vindictive; he was good-hearted and sweet. He would forgive you for what
happened. You've got to believe that."
But Hajar was shaking her head—whipping it almost furiously back
and forth.
"Then it's me! Me! Some part of me knows, knows
I don't deserve this anymore, and is using Josh so I'll admit it!"
The girl had worked herself into frenzy. She began weeping, and was
soon convulsed with racking sobs that nearly cut off her respiration. Cadet
First Class Jean Hajar gasped for air, clutched at her friend…
…and cried for the dead.
The old fashioned handled doors at the Academy were infamous for
failing to latch at the worst moments. This was no exception. Sito—who, despite
her best efforts, had also started to cry—saw that they'd acquired an audience:
A number of the dorm's residents stood gazing, wide-eyed, at the scene through
the open portal.
For the first time in a long time, Sito Jaxa got angry.
Through her tears, she asked, "Did any of you bastards
think of calling a counselor, or are you just going to sit there and gloat at
having driven another of us away?"
Three or four of the group had the grace to look guilty. Another,
an Orion girl Sito had never before seen, whispered, "I'll do it,"
and disappeared.
The counselor came, the doctors came, the commandant came… and
Jean Hajar went.
Erika Benteen seated herself carefully in
"All right, T'Vaar. Put her on."
If anything, Kira Nerys looked angrier than she usually did. To
her credit, though, she managed to keep a tight rein on it—at first.
"Commander Benteen, I've been instructed to inform you that a
number of Bajoran officers have failed to report aboard the Emissary in the time allotted. According to Deep Space
Nine's sensor logs, all of them—including, obviously, Lieutenant Sito
Jaxa—are aboard the
Benteen's response was even more careful.
"It's my understanding, Colonel Kira, that these Bajorans are
unwilling to relinquish their Starfleet commissions and careers. Perhaps it would
be best if they were to remain aboard the
They could all see the conflict on Kira's face. She wasn't exactly
the deceptive sort, after all… and wore her emotions, for the most part, like a
badge.
“‘Perhaps it would be best,
Commander,’" she echoed. "Unfortunately, that option wasn't
given to me. I was specifically instructed to remind you that this is a Bajoran
station, within Bajoran space—and, thus, completely under Bajoran
jurisdiction. Allow me to rephrase: beam all six of them over, now,
or I'll be forced to take further action."
"Care to elaborate on that?" Benteen inquired. Her own
tone had hardened ever so slightly.
"Only if you force me to do so, by
refusing to comply. Are you so
refusing?"
Quietly, Benteen avowed, "Impressment is wrong, Colonel. I
feel it's my moral obligation to do so."
Kira went from angry to furious, instantly.
"Considering the last time I heard anything about you,
Commander, your ship, the Lakota, was firing on
the Defiant in support of a coup against the Federation, you'll
pardon me if I decide not to listen to a lecture from you on morals!"
By the Prophets, here we go,
thought Sito.
Benteen replied, coldly, "At least one of us has the
courage of her convictions. These Bajorans aren't going anywhere… not
unless they decide to go."
T'Vaar glanced back from ops.
"I took the liberty of scanning the station. There is a large
contingent of Bajoran security personnel en route to our main airlock
connection."
"Call them off, Colonel… now," Benteen warned
angrily.
"If you interfere with them, Commander, you'll be in
violation of Bajoran law and subject to immediate arrest; and I'll only be too
happy to throw you into a cell personally. You will permit our forces to board
Benteen's response wasn't precisely what Kira had hoped.
"Ensign Müeller, tell security to shoot any Bajoran
militiaman who attempts to board us."
Looking a bit uncertain, the young officer replied, "Y−yes,
ma'am." After a moment, he followed that up with, "Commander, a
Vedek… Maral is with the troop just outside our airlock. He requests permission
to board the
After a moment, Benteen nodded.
"Have security convey him to the observation lounge, Ensign.
The Bajorans aboard
"Should I assume that Vedek Maral is here on behalf of the
Kai and the Bajoran government, Colonel?"
It was a temporary stay of disaster, and Kira took it.
"I believe so, Commander. Please keep me informed of status. DS9 out."
You really are a politician,
Kira… or at least a tactician, thought Sito. Never perpetuate a
no-win situation.
T'Vaar noted, "The Bajoran militia have
withdrawn further into the station."
"For now," Sito added.
Benteen shot her a glare. "Whatever happened to that renowned
Bajoran optimism, Jaxa?" she asked.
Before she could reply, Arkin Jora interjected with, "It went
the way of our personal freedoms, Commander."
Sito rolled her eyes, and countered, "Speak for yourself, Ensign. Commander, I think it best if we meet with
Vedek Maral alone. This really is a Bajoran matter."
Benteen smiled grimly.
"I'll remember that when Kira's throwing away the key."
***
"This… intransigence has the Kai deeply
disturbed."
The six of them had seated themselves around the observation
lounge table, respectfully leaving the captain's chair for Vedek Maral.
Instead of using it, he'd chosen to circle the room while he
spoke.
"There was never
any intention of making you unhappy," he continued. "We thought this
would be a singular honor for you all!"
Sito couldn't say she liked the tone. Rather than conciliatory in
any way, it was remonstrative.
"It is an honor, Vedek, but…" The voice trailed off.
Maral nodded—with what struck Sito as a half-hearted attempt at
magnanimousness—to the young man who'd spoken, a male ensign wearing science
blues.
If he's three months out of the Academy, I'm a Cardassian.
"We've worked hard to establish ourselves in Starfleet. We've
made lives for ourselves, made friends… fallen in love."
Ouch.
"And the love you have for this woman is more important than
the love you have for Bajor?" Maral asked, with a casual relentlessness
that struck Sito as particularly hypocritical.
It struck its target with a little more impact, though. The boy's
face fell, and he mumbled, "Of course not, Vedek… it's just that…"
Again words failed him.
"I don't tell you or the Kai how to serve Bajor. Why should
you tell me?"
Ensign Jora to the rescue, Sito
thought. Good for you, Arkin.
"I don't recall addressing you, young lady," Maral snapped. It was a momentary indulgence of temper, but one
he immediately squelched. "Even if this is not what you want, it is a
matter of law. You have no choice." He raised his voice slightly, and
addressed them all.
"Do you think the Kai is wise? That she is blessed of the
Prophets?" Hesitantly, three of the six nodded.
"Then perhaps she sees Bajor's future more clearly than you,
and you should accede to her wishes."
"We should still have the freedom to choose our own
futures," Jora insisted. There were murmurs of agreement.
Maral stopped. His expression had become like stone.
"Very well. I can see that talking is of no
use. I shall return to the station, and inform Colonel Kira that she must use
force to take you…"
"Wait!"
Jora had everyone's attention. Maral, it was clear, had grown
quite tired of her, but he inclined his head with that faux graciousness he'd
learned so well.
"You say that it's our duty as Bajoran citizens, and that we
have no choice."
"Yes?" His eyes glittered dangerously.
She took a deep breath.
"Then I must renounce my Bajoran citizenship."
Even Sito was startled—though on reflection, she realized it had
been inevitable for Jora from the moment this began.
It was the option no doubt none of them but her had considered.
For a Bajoran to voluntarily relinquish ties to the home world… it was almost
inconceivable.
From the expressions of the four others, though, they were even
now beginning to conceive—and consider—it.
Maral didn't bother disguising his venom now.
"I thought you might turn away from the Prophets, Arkin Jora.
You are within your rights to do so… but know this: You will take none
of these other innocents with you.” With the smug self-righteousness only a
high cleric can truly wield well, he finished, “If you confirm again to me what
you have said, I shall perform the Ritual of Separation immediately.
“Then you may do as you wish.”
Arkin’s jaw dropped. "B–but why?
I've committed no major transgression as spoken of in the scrolls!"
As if a petty detail like that would stop him, Sito thought bitterly.
"You are defying the Kai on a matter she considers of vital
importance. I act with her authority to dispense justice on the wicked and
recalcitrant. This is your last chance, Arkin Jora. Heed and obey. All of
you… heed and obey."
As one, like a small group of kenta beasts, the other four
officers fell in behind Maral, cowed and defeated.
Sito stayed with Jora.
"So, you join her in eternal separation from the
Prophets?"
Sito laughed, harshly.
"There's that fanatical gleam I'd been waiting for,
Vedek. I knew you couldn't keep it bottled up in there forever.
"Actually, I'd already decided to return, for the sake of
Bajor. I just want you to know what a fanatical, maniacal hypocrite you are.
You pretended mildness until it was clear you weren't going to get your way,
and then you pulled out the threat of interdict to bring us to heel. Well,
congratulations. I'm sure the Prophets are proud of you and your Kai."
Sito turned to Jora.
"This doesn't have
to be over. We can fight them from the Emissary.
For now, though, you should come with us and…" She was dismayed to see
Jora shaking her head.
"No. I believe the Prophets, if they really love
truth, as we've been taught, would want me to stand firm."
Maral smiled, and it was the smile of the serpent that's been
granted to strike.
"So be it."
He raised his hand, and spoke words in the Ancient Bajoran tongue…
words so terrible that the universal translators refused to function for most
of them.
When it was done, he turned away.
"Do not speak to the soulless one," he commanded.
"She no longer exists."
The other officers, stricken with fear and regret, meekly left the
room.
Sito didn't.
"No matter what he says, Jora, I'd choose to spend eternity
with your soul rather than his."
As she passed Maral, who was nearly apoplectic with fury, Sito
said, "Don't ever forget that you didn't fool either of us. We both saw
you for what you are, you monster.
"If you and the Kai are Bajor's future, then Jora's
the lucky one."
***
Benteen could tell from everyone's expression that Maral had won.
His benevolent gaze, though, looked somewhat worn about the edges
as he nodded to her and shepherded four of the six officers into the turbolift.
Without a word, they were gone.
When Jora and Sito emerged, a moment later, everyone knew better
than to ask what had occurred. The younger girl looked almost dazed, and Sito
seemed stoked with a cold fury that none of them had ever before seen.
"Take Ensign Jora to sickbay, Lieutenant Davis. She's in
shock. Counselor, you may want to follow her down in a few minutes… but give
her those few minutes."
M'Raav Hatshepsut had only now returned from her own brief leave.
One could see in her posture that she wasn't pleased with how her homecoming
was progressing.
"Of course," she purred.
Jora looked exhausted, and leaned heavily on
Sito made it simple.
"She's going back to Argus. I'm leaving for the Emissary."
Benteen nodded, and then motioned again for Sito to take the X-O's
position—at least for a moment. The Bajoran slipped into the seat, and gestured
to T'Vaar.
"Contact Colonel Kira."
The Vulcan promptly replied, "Channel open."
"The situation is resolved, Colonel," Sito declared.
"I see. I understand you're joining the Emissary. We'll expect your signal at your convenience,
Lieutenant." It was a courtesy she didn't have to grant, a "take
your time" gesture that would no doubt cost her a bit with her
superiors—not that she probably gave a damn. "I have no doubt you'll be
a more valuable asset than they can possibly know."
Then, Kira Nerys surprised them. She smiled, almost warmly, and
stated, "And thank you for your help in
resolving this matter, Commander Benteen."
T'Vaar raised a brow. Müeller's jaw dropped open.
Erika simply nodded.
You wanted her to do what you both
thought was right, and resist, all along, didn't you, Colonel? thought Sito. I think she and I had both guessed as much.
After all, no one cares if the Bajoran government doesn't like her… considering
her past, not many people do, anyway. It's their loss.
You, though, have to stay here long after
"I'm pleased I could be of assistance, Colonel," was
Benteen's only reply.
The momentary good humor—if that's what it truly was—had already
disappeared, replaced by Kira Nerys' usual brisk efficiency.
"We're at your disposal for the duration of your stay,
Commander. Ops out."
As one, the entire bridge crew turned to look at Benteen and Sito.
"Uh… did I miss something?" Müeller asked, perplexed.
"You seem to have gained a friend," Hatshepsut observed,
after the viewer had returned to a star field.
Erika shook her head slightly in denial.
"Not quite that, M'Raav.
"Say, rather, we both had everyone's best interests at
heart."
***
Sito had almost hoped she could avoid this.
As luck would have it, though, after she'd packed her belongings,
and said most of her good-byes, T'Vaar had stopped her with that which she'd
both anticipated and dreaded.
"Sensors indicate a pair of vessels making final approach to Deep
Space Nine: A modified Ambassador-class starship, whose ID call
marker identifies her as the Roman starship SPQR Trajanus; and a
Federation runabout."
Another glance at her instruments, and the Vulcan had finished
with, "It is the Susquehanna. Ensign Parihn indicates she will dock
in the main shuttle bay."
Benteen had immediately ordered, "Inform Parihn that the
captain needs to come aboard… now."
After a moment to comply, T'Vaar had glanced up at Sito and
informed her, "He will meet you in transporter room one." Then, she'd
stood and approached the Bajoran.
"Live long and prosper, Sito Jaxa."
Sito, surprised and touched, had returned the IDIC salute, and
responded properly, with, "Peace and long life, T'Vaar, daughter of
Sivak." Impishly, she added, "May your logic never fail you."
T'Vaar had arched a brow.
"May your sense of humor prove equally reliable."
Now, as she waited for the captain to materialize, she hoped
T'Vaar's blessing would prove prophetic.
Mav mentioned, just then, with gruff off-handedness, "You
know, it figures you'd be one of the ones to go. You never annoyed
me."
With that, he activated the sequence.
The captain looked intrigued even as he appeared. No doubt he was
wondering what had prompted Benteen to require his immediate attention.
He saw Sito, with her belongings slung over her shoulder, and
understood.
"I was just leaving," she announced quietly.
Mantovanni stepped off the platform, and approached her.
"No doubt to make wherever you're going better for your presence.
Permission to come aboard?" he finished.
"Granted, sir." After a moment, she added, "Permission to depart?" Her
eyes filled with tears.
He considered that.
"For now," he conceded finally. "But
not forever."
Oh, why not, she thought. Mav can't
see a damned thing anyway.
She put down her bag, stepped forward, and hugged him, hard.
Strangely enough, he seemed to welcome it—and hugged her back.
"Thank you for saving my life, sir," she whispered.
"Thank you for enriching mine," he replied.
She squeezed him more tightly.
Behind them, Mav grunted meaningfully. "Emissary is
waiting."
They broke the embrace, and she took her place on the platform;
Mantovanni placed her duffel beside her and stepped back.
"See what happens when you go on leave?" she said. It
was an attempt at a joke, but neither felt much like laughing.
Instead, the captain nodded.
"I'm sure Erika will chain me to the chair." He motioned
to Mav, who activated the transport sequence.
The last thing Sito Jaxa heard was Luciano Mantovanni, in his
native Italian, saying, "Ciao bella, signorina fidela." Good-bye,
beautiful, faithful lady.
As always, it was just what she needed to hear.
She left the