Legacy
An Alternative History of the Dominion War
Year 1
Part 3 _ Adjustments
Chapter 14
There was no hard and fast rule about where you stayed at night, and for the
last three nights, Jaro had spent the night at Justin's lab, working on the plant
specimens. It was much more than a project meant just to cover their
expedition, and Justin was fascinated by the idea of a usable crop which would
not require any additional supplies. If he was to terraform fields which could
give them a chance to feed themselves, it wouldn't help if there was no seed.
Jaro was caught up in the excited, but had been very moody as well.
"Look at this one," said Justin, holding a spine covered sample. "It has these
little fruits."
The were round, and very hard. There were also very few of them on the
spindly branch. "I wish my wife were here. She studies plants. She could tell
you a lot just by simple examination." Jaro quit smiling. "Perhaps, someday,
" he finished as his voice trailed off.
Justin didn't offer false hope. "I do pity you. I believe I'm much better off, now,
having no family to miss."
Jaro was examining the round fruits. "These are more like big hard seed balls
than fruit. I'll bet there's a lot of seed inside. We should try to find more the
next time out."
"Yes. We should try to grow it this year."
Jaro thumped the ball but nothing happened. It didn't even rattle. "If you
think so. But it's so sparse. We might not get much for the space it takes."
Justin shrugged. "Still good to try," he muttered.
Jaro thought to himself that after the frustration of the *other* project, this one
was pure enjoyment. They could do all of it in the open. And Justin was
pursuing it with almost giddy excitement.
Jaro had to admit he liked that. And Justin's quarters were so beautiful and
large. He liked spending time there..
But as small and utilitarian as it was, Jaro wanted to spend some time at
home. "I'm getting very tired," he said. "I would like to spend some time at
home." He'd gotten breakfast late, and was about to leave for a late lunch,
when someone knocked on the door.
He recognized the young man, one of Vance's staff whom had quit when the
takeover occurred. He and the others had stayed to themselves, and Jaro had
never met him. But he did recognize the tone of his voice, and the urgency of
what he had to say. He invited the young man inside.
"You have to be a lot more careful," he began as soon as the door was closed.
Jaro was surprised by the worry in the young man's voice. "Were you aware
that you and Mr. Blanchard were followed all the way from here to the hills?
Or you could easily have been observed hiding your machines?"
Jaro tensed up, suddenly very worried. "We were collecting plant specimens,"
he said, but he didn't think he sounded convincing even to himself.
"And hiding contraband. Look, I'm on your side. I don't know what your
planning and really don't want to, but I do know its secret. At least somebody
around here has some nerve."
Jaro didn't know what to think. His carefully guarded sense of security
depended on believing they were unobserved. The young man had shattered
that feeling, and Jaro was now very uncertain again. "Are you saying it could
be discovered?" he asked, his voice full of worry.
The young man smiled. "Not now. You have friends. The equipment is safe.
When you want to use it, let me know. I'll get you to it. We got it far away from
the cave, too. You could have led them to the rest."
Jaro was confused, and suspicious. "You were careful with the chemicals?
They could be useless if the containers are damaged."
"Don't worry. They won't find them and they will be in perfect condition. I'm in
H_4. Just let me know." Jaro was about to ask his name but he opened the
door and left.
Jaro stood staring at the door, wondering if this was a good idea again. He was
meeting Justin for lunch. He thought a late afternoon walk was in order after
they were done.
*****
Sisko was surprised when Willman arrived with his own supply summaries,
standing awkwardly in the office, looking for the right desk. It was warm inside
and Sisko did not close his door unless it was necessary. He asked the doctor
to come in.
Willman was impatient. "Ben, why don't you get out of this stuffy office and get
some lunch." The tone was light but the eyes were grim.
Sisko met his eyes. He said, cordially, "I wouldn't mind that. I'm told the chef
today is one of the new people." He followed Willman as he wandered across
the square, after getting their meal, and sat at a table in the far corner, with no
one else in evidence.
Over the meal, when conversation wasn't obvious, Willman had explained his
news quickly. "I have a reliable source. I'm told that Blanchard is planning
some kind of test. He's got machines hidden somewhere, and he's using some
of them. He's already got them out. I know where they are hidden . . . " He
glanced at the crowd, looking for particular people and not finding any of them.
"Good. They aren't watching."
Sisko said, very quietly, "I didn't want to let them go. If the request had come
across my desk as just a piece of paper I'd have said not yet. But he was
sneaky. The idea of the survey is just too good an idea not to approve when
everyone is watching."
"No, you had to let them go. They aren't ready yet. We'll stop it before they
are. And I did warn you about him."
"I know." Sisko stared at the crowd. "But he's excited about this. I could hear
it in his voice when he proposed it, whatever else they had in mind."
"That's the sad part, he's sacrificing one idea for another."
Sisko had eaten most of his food, and paused, slowly letting out the deep
breath he was trying to calm himself with. "I'm going to meet with Dax later.
I'll give her word of a meeting." Willman nodded, and both men finished their
food. Neither of them betrayed how anxious they were to go.
*****
The meeting was short and rushed, like it had to be. Willman had already
outlined the location of the machines, and the best way to get there. "Recently
Blanchard and his friend got permission to go out toward the mountains. They
gathered native plants. They probably moved the machine then too . . . "
Sisko's voice trailed off.
Dax was looking at the map. "This will take more than lunch. I can't possibly
get away that long, at least for a day or so. We can't go snooping without a
reason."
Willman didn't look happy. "I reluctantly agree. We just can't take the
chance."
"As soon as you can . . . somehow I'll clear things." Sisko was very grim. "If
you find it, destroy it. I want that test stopped, without alerting Blanchard and
his friend if possible. If we're lucky they won't try again."
"I wouldn't count on that," said Willman. "You don't know Justin when he's
really committed to something." He looked Sisko in the eyes. "The only real
way may be stopping him personally. Destroying equipment will only delay
their efforts."
"Only as a last resort." Sisko knew he could keep them from having the chance
to try, but that would openly implicate more than Blanchard and the Bajoran
in the act. He knew their experiment was illegal, but he had no desire to
destroy them. Still, somehow, they had to be stopped. He tried to believe it
was not already too late.
*****
Ben Sisko stared out the open window, watching the faint glow of distant
lights. It was the middle of the night and, once again, he couldn't sleep. He
couldn't get Willman's news, and the implications of it, out of his head. He was
impatient about their private expedition. But he could not get past the worry
that it would be way too late; that quite possibly all of this was pointless. The
Vorta, with his slimy smile, was watching as they nibbled on the bait, not quite
tripping the wire. But it was just a matter of time now. He hoped Blanchard,
with his secret experiment, had not already snapped the trap and the hammer
was just hovering above them.
And he could not dismiss his feelings about Jadzia's odd, disturbing mood
either. It was so unlike her. He'd known Dax for much his life, and the Trill, in
both incarnations, simply did not give up like this. Jadzia was so quiet. She
hardly spoke to anyone, and by and large was preoccupied with her
inner_demon when not dealing with work. But that little glimpse inside her,
and the terror he'd seen still haunted him. She'd said she saw death. He
wanted to dismiss it, but knew Dax was not given to fantasy. He could not
help but believe that she had, indeed, seen something which terrified her. That
she had grown more withdrawn over time did not make him feel any better.
Finally falling asleep, he dreamt of a mysterious dark place where death
lurked, and woke from the nightmare to stare at darkness that surrounded
him, wondering what hid behind its veil.
*****
James finished his last stack of papers, filling them in the rear cabinet, as
Morris came into the room. "You done yet, James?" asked Morris.
"Yes, with this stack," he said.
"Okay, we're all ready," yelled Morris, to the outer room. Rafferson mumbled
something as Morris took James's arm and towed him out the door.
It was really unnecessary. He didn't mind going to dinner anymore. He talked
to them, seemed to listen and respond, and nobody bothered him after they
were done. Morris had gotten a little too close, following him home before.
This was better. What they didn't know was they were just pale shadows in his
mind. He couldn't get away from them, but this way they didn't intrude into
his real world, the one that came alive when he painted.
He was still busy adding people to the painting. The night before last he had
painted his grandfather. The old man was telling a story to a group of children,
and James had finished them the night before. Having added the last touch to
his grandfather, he finished the nightly routine, bathing and taking out the
next days clothes. He dressed for bed, and sat on the cushion he used for such
purposes until he had taken in the whole world, and could hear the children
giggling and the sounds of his grandfather's animal imitations.
Totally lost in his world, he had gone to bed. He slept wonderfully well that
night, better than ever before. He had missed his grandfather so badly. He
had felt alone. But now Grandfather was with him, and would always be.
Sometimes that day, at work, he would let himself hear the voices of the family
and friends at his park. Sorting his papers and filing the endless reports that
made life possible on Cyrus now, he knew his grandfather was near. He was
very happy, actually cheerful. The food was good that day, and James was
enthusiastic about eating. He surprised Morris by being ready for dinner
before Morris was. James wondered why everyone around him looked so grim.
That night, and for several more after, he didn't add anything to the painting.
He just sat and looked and listened to Grandfather. Sometimes he was
himself, sitting in this room. Other times he was one of the giggling children.
But he could not bear to lose the intense focus on the one man in the whole
world that actually cared what he dreamed.
*****
Walter Vance wanted to scream at them, all of them. Not just Sisko and his
ilk, but the others who were digging the mud channel and considered
themselves lucky, and even those who were doing nothing, because he believed
that that was not enough. There was a rage at Them, watching, waiting,
playing with the strings as if they were personal toys. He ate his food, and
spent the morning reading. He took a walk in the early afternoon, sometimes
as far as the hills which were off limits at night. Occasionally he thought about
staying, but he would be hungry by then, and he had never been able to stand
missing his meals. He would return by dusk, eat his dinner, and go back to
his room. Then he would read until bed, and try to sleep.
But more and more often he couldn't and would give up and read the whole
night. He needed to *do* something, to vent his rage and frustration, but he
was confronted with the reality Sisko had planted in his head the day of their
meeting. There was nothing they could do. But there had to be something,
small perhaps, but meaningful that he could do himself. It had been another
long night, and he had slept only a few hours after finally getting too sleepy to
stay awake. He didn't have to get up so early, but the only thing holding his
life together was his routine. He showered, and while getting dressed he
noticed the ID tag he wore on a cord of material at night.
He held the wet material, preparing to transfer the pin to his clothes, when an
idea came to him. He removed the round of cloth and laid it on the table. He
waited for a moment, but nothing happened. He sat on his bed, waiting, but
nothing came of it. It was time for breakfast, and he looked at the little pin,
their mark of servitude. Taking a deep breath, he walked out of the room.
It was as if he was alive again, like a giant weight had been lifted from him and
he felt light_ headed. He even spoke to someone at his table, a rare thing for
Walter. He felt like a child with a secret, and wondered when someone would
notice. He finished and turned in his plate, noting an odd expression on the
servers face, but he still didn't see. Walter was disappointed. But no one
would notice if he went back to his room.
He decided to see the progress of the mud channel. There were crews working
at several locations, from just beyond the point where the existing channel had
been blocked to near the side where it would join with the administrative area's
water supply. It was already hot, and most of the people looked overheated.
But they looked satisfied, too. He pitied them. He felt superior to all of them at
that moment, the lone man with courage. Several people spoke to him, small
talk, and he returned it almost without thinking. It was a skill he had
developed during his days promoting the project. He kept waiting, impatiently,
for someone to notice, to say anything of the missing pin. But none of them
did.
He was warm and he ate his lunch hurriedly, retiring to the shade provided by
the buildings for the afternoon, forgoing his walk. It was a popular place to sit
out the heat. He had more conversations, more small talk, and watched as the
children played games in the shady area. He even went so far as to finger
where the pin would have been. But nobody even looked. He saw all of theirs,
though, on earrings, pinned in the hair, or to clothes. He realized they might
just think he wore it on a chain, but he never had before.
When it started to get cool, and dusk approached, he understood that they
didn't see him. He kept to himself too much. He must change that. If he was
to make them notice he must cease to be invisible.
He had stopped worrying about the pin by dinner. It was too shadowy to tell
anyway. He found a few conversations he actually enjoyed. It occurred to him
he was doing it all wrong. He had to be part of them for his silent protest to
have any effect. The next day, he would spend as he had this one, and perhaps
they would notice that Walter Vance was still alive.
He read a little that night, but it didn't appeal to him. He looked at the pin,
still attached to its cord, and almost put it on. He was a little apprehensive,
noting that for the first time in the day he was alone. He even picked it up, but
put it back. He would not surrender. He would maintain his protest.
Tomorrow, they would notice. For the first time in a long time, he slept easily.
But a few hours later, he heard a noise. It wasn't one of the odd sounds his
housemate made. It wasn't loud, but near. It woke him, and he opened his
eyes to see three Jem'Hadar standing in his little room.
Walter was terrified. He backed as far away from them as he could, and tried
to escape when they reached for him, but was pulled out of bed anyway. One
of them held the cord with the ID tag. It was put over his head. Shaking,
Walter pleaded that he would not do it again, meaning every word. He would
find something else. But they did not let him go. He was shoved forward
against one of them while his wrists were pulled behind him and tied. He was
roughly pushed back against the other, too scared to move. They forced open
his mouth and gagged him. Walter's heart was pounding in anticipation and
there was a loud roaring in his ears. The Jem'Hadar behind him held him
firmly by his shoulders, but Walter was too terrified to resist. He stared at
them, eyes open wide, unable to look away.
The third Jem'Hadar, standing behind the two holding him, handed the one in
front a device. He remembered it from when the ID tags had been set. He
followed its approach with his eyes, suddenly remembering the rule, trying to
breath through his nose because he could barely breath at all.
The device was aimed at his tag. It beeped, and made a series of electronic
sounds. Walter stared at it wide_eyed until they shoved his head to the side
and he could only see the wall of his room.
They stabbed it into his neck, right at the base, into the muscle between neck
and shoulders. He bit down on the gag, trying to be silent, but whimpered
anyway. It was pulled out just as suddenly, leaving something behind. He was
numb, knowing what it was. He heard another whirring sound, and the pain
disappeared, as they healed the wound. It all sounded very far away to Walter,
too stunned by the realization that he was the very first to be tagged internally
to notice much anymore. He head was released and the Jem'Hadar looked
blurry from the tears falling that filled his eyes. They pushed him forward
again, and his hands were untied. He didn't resist. They pulled out the gag
and threw him back on his bed. He watched in misty eyed shock as they
disappeared.
He lay the way he had fallen for what seemed like hours. He was sure they
would come back and violate him again. He muscles stiffened up and he had
to relax them, and finally felt his neck. There was nothing to tell him where
they had sliced open his skin. But when he moved he knew the thing was
there, the device he couldn't remove, the device nobody would know was there
unless he told them.
He would remember this night for a long time, he knew. And yet, he suspected
that the outer tag, the one they had replaced, didn't matter now. He would
wear it, but when he had gotten to know enough of the people out there for
someone to see it was gone, he would try again. But not tomorrow, or too
soon. He was too scared of them coming back.
Lying awake, he remembered Willman's story of Chandler and wondered if he
had indeed gotten to be their first victim.
*****
The Vorta was talking, elaborating some point which he had not yet gotten to.
Sisko watched and listened, or at least looked like he was. But his thoughts
were elsewhere. Sometimes the Vorta went on forever about something
unimportant, as he was doing now. Eventually he'd make his point, but until
then, Sisko was barely listening.
He had been feeling this way during meetings since his encounter with Vance,
very distant, and detached from it all. He felt nothing. Deep inside, where the
Vorta would not find him, he hid the real Sisko, and wore the face that was
expected. There had been more meetings of late, most as pointless as this one.
Glebaroun launched himself into a big speech. Sisko thought to himself that
he would be awhile. He watched the Vorta as he spoke, alluding to the future
of what was now Sisko's home. He was curious what he would be saying if he
was capable of honesty, wondering if he already knew of Blanchard's activities.
Somehow, they needed to stop Blanchard's test. Sitting and watching the
Vorta, he became more and more certain that the future, the one the Vorta
envisioned, was far different than the one they dreamed of, and Blanchard was,
without knowing it, leading them straight into the trap.
The Vorta continued to talk, while Sisko pulled himself further back, as if he
was watching something from a distance. He listened to the particular words
used by Glebaroun, and the enthusiasm that might be taken as genuine if it
wasn't for the smile, thinking about Jadzia's sense of foreboding. He was
finding it increasingly hard to believe that the Vorta did not know, and forced
himself to bury the thought.
The Vorta was looking at him, expecting a reaction to what he was going to say
next. "Captain, I realize that while things are a bit difficult now, it will not
always be so. I believe this little rocky planet could someday be quite green, in
fact. Of course, it will take a little time, but I think in the end you will all be
quite grateful to the Dominion for our help and for our great patience as well."
He smiled, and Sisko had a chill run down his spine. Now he was certain that
Glebaroun knew, and he had just been warned that there was only so much
time left before all the tolerance was used up.
*****
Walter had just gotten to sleep, after hours of trying, when he heard the sound.
It was a small sound, rather undefined, but it woke him. Every sound had
awakened him since they had come. He would sleep, eventually, when he was
too tired to stay awake. But it would not be a restful sleep. Every noise was an
interruption, even if he fell back into it instantly.
He had never gone back to the old pattern of staying alone, and had indeed
gotten to know more of the world around him. And more and more he was
becoming convinced that it was wrong to cooperate. Every time he could not
sleep because fear filled him after a noise, and each day he dragged himself
through, added to the seething anger that was growing in him. He needed to
let it out. And the next morning, while dressing, he had an inspiration.
He felt his neck where they had placed the internal tag, and decided it was time
to make his point. He would, once again, make his silent protest. If they came
the next night, he didn't care. He could not live with the anger trapped inside
him anymore.
Breakfast had come and gone, and Walter sat with several friends, waiting for
the rest. In a few hours, those who had finished their shift at the mud channel
would come and join them. He realized he didn't care so much if they noticed.
This was for him, and for Them. If his friends noticed, then he would explain.
If they didn't it would still serve its purpose. He rubbed his neck, briefly,
feeling the small lump in the muscle. He scarcely noticed it anymore, but
always knew it was there.
More people arrived. Normally, they exchanged small talk and stories. People
with children brought them along to play, and for what had become very
unofficial tutoring sessions. Eventually someone would provide the children
with some sort of education, but for now they preferred to keep it very private,
worried about what sort of things the Dominion might want to teach. A group
of children in the midst of adults, seemingly playing, would not attract
unwanted attention.
Others came just to not be alone. It used up a few hours. Walter had gotten to
feel comfortable with these people. He liked them and appreciated the
company. He glanced toward the main pathway, waiting for several particular
friends who were digging rocks from the mud channel.
It was hot, and getting muggier as noon approached. He and his friends would
retire to a shady spot later, to talk and play cards. Walter had never done that.
They had taught him, and he had come to look forward to the afternoons. It
passed the time, and he found life was far more tolerable when he had friends.
Ray and Tara would be back soon, and he began to wonder if they would
notice.
He saw things differently. He no longer felt superior to these people, now
sharing their lives and frustrations, with nothing to do and less to look forward
to. He almost wished he could get a job working on the mud channel. Ray was
very proud of the section he was working on, even if it wasn't for more than a
few hours a day. It was something to anticipate, to wake up for in the morning.
It was an accomplishment you could see. Walter understood, and envied them.
His satisfaction had been denied and even the peace of sleep had been replaced
by nightmares.
It had turned into a hot muggy day. Tara had gone to change into her day
clothes, out of the damp work clothes, and Walter had unbuttoned his shirt.
They were talking quietly, watching the children play, when Ray suddenly
noticed something was missing. He took a hold of Walter's shirt, and checked
the collar. Then he checked for a chain. There was none. He looked at Walter,
concerned. "Where's your pin, Walter?"
"I took it off." Walter tried to sound defiant, but ended up sounding scared
instead.
"What happens if They notice?" Ray looked worried.
"They put one inside you." Walter couldn't keep the memories back. He said
bitterly, "It hurts when they do it." He hadn't planned on telling Ray, but it felt
better to have told somebody.
"When?" asked Ray, plainly shocked.
"About a month ago. Nobody even noticed I wasn't wearing it, nobody but
them. I was asleep. I never told anyone."
"Why?" asked Ray, still stunned.
"I had to let out the anger. They stole all my dreams."
Ray looked down, pushing away his own memories. "They stole mine, too. And
her's. Don't do this to yourself, Walter."
Annoyed, Walter defended himself. "I'm not asking you to do it. I have to live
with the nightmares they gave me. If they want to come again I don't care."
"But what if someone else notices? What if you don't tell them what they did to
you? It's not fair, Walter. If somebody wants to join your protest, fine, but
don't deceive people. If you do that you're as bad as Them." Ray looked at
him, disappointed.
Walter looked at his friend, shocked. "I never considered that." He buttoned
up his shirt, standing up. "I don't think I want to talk about that night. I'll be
back in a few minutes."
"I'll be here. Tara should be back soon. We have a game to play."
A little while later Walter returned, wearing his pin on the necklace. Ray
nodded. But Walter was filled with a sense of loss he could not escape. He
would find a way, but right now, he needed his friends more than revenge.
*****
Justin and Jaro had set out early, almost before dawn, laden with bags and a
small cart. They were to collect native plants. A notice had been filed that they
intended to collect further samples of the most promising of their previous trip,
but they had not said when. They were already gone before anyone realized
they had left.
It was very hot, and extremely muggy that day. About half the way along they
met the young man who had come to Jaro's door, and given the collection bags
to him. He passed them to several others, who would guarantee they were full
of the requested plant samples. Blanchard had been adamant about that; the
plant testing had become an essential part of their plan, and he wanted enough
samples for a miniature farm. Justin and Jaro then continued on with their
guide. He led them past the main trails to the location of their equipment. He
then left, to keep watch.
He was one of the regular visitors to the area, one of the people who drifted
away from the settlement during the day but always came home in time. They
were tolerated, thought they were not supposed be there. No one would be
surprised to see him.
Justin and Jaro needed the entire day to finish the test. It took a long time to
mix the chemicals, being careful to get just the right amount of water, and even
longer to load them. At least it was outside and the fumes were blown away in
a light breeze. But both of them were filthy, and smelled strongly of the
chemicals. They'd have to wash off what they could before returning home.
The test itself was almost an anti_climax. The injector was put into place and
started. In a matter of minutes it was done.
Then, all that remained was to wait. But the machine was moved first, so as
not to give away the test site. Their helpers hid the machine, and if questioned
neither of them could tell where it was.
It would raise a terrible alarm if it was found, but it couldn't give away either
the test site or the cave. Finally, very late, without time to wash and have
dinner, Justin and Jaro returned heavily laden with plant samples. An aide of
Justin's brought their food. Justin was already planning the construction of
his indoor hothouse in deep conversation with his friend.
There was nothing to show that they had changed everything to come that day.
*****
Julian watched as Willman ran the tricorder over his leg. He no longer felt
comfortable with Willman, even when he was just a patient. Willman's bedside
manner, distinctly more friendly than they way he treated his staff, had not
changed, but Julian could no longer see it as real.
"Well, Doctor, your leg is about as healed as it's going to get. Congratulations."
Julian didn't particularly feel like celebrating. He had only recently gotten a
good look at the ruin that was left, badly scarred and mangled, and could not
as yet consider that to be "healed". It was an unpleasant reminder of the kind
of world in which he was going to have to live.
He watched, nervous, as Willman and one of the nurses lowered the support
structure and his leg to the bed. It was unfastened, carefully, from his knee
down. When they were done, his leg was lifted out of the brace, and one nurse
placed pillows for it to rest on while Willman removed the support. His leg was
gently placed on the pillows.
It was the first time in months that his leg was free of support. It was a
moment he had both awaited and dreaded, and looking at the scarred and
damaged leg, he almost wanted the support back.
It was like a weight that was too heavy. But the worse part was the amount of
pain moving it at all made shoot through his leg.
"Rest for now, I'll examine it tomorrow. We'll get you started on therapy
tomorrow, as well." Willman noticed the grimace on his face. "I won't lie.
There is a lot of nerve damage there. It's going to hurt. But you still have to
learn to use it. Now, try to move your foot."
He tried. It sent a stab of pain up his leg and his foot barely moved. "That's all
I can manage," he whispered after the worst of the pain subsided.
"It's a good start. I think you may need a brace for the foot, at least for now.
I'll have one fitted today. You need to get up and move around to regain your
strength."
Bashir wanted them all to go away. If they wouldn't give him anything for the
pain he wanted to leave the throbbing leg still until it stopped hurting and just
sleep. Everything below his knee was consumed in the waves of agony. He
didn't have any desire to get out of bed, let alone walk, quite yet. He leaned his
head back, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths trying to calm himself and
make the hurting stop.
"I'll do an evaluation in a week or so, but I expect you'll be here for another two,
three weeks," Willman said offhandedly. "Any questions?"
Bashir just wanted to be left alone. He shook his head. The nurses left.
Willman didn't. "There really isn't anything I can do for the pain right now.
But I'll have them get you something to help you sleep. That will help."
Willman almost sounded sympathetic. Bashir was confused. He wished the
real Willman would raise his hand.
Later that day, Lonnie and a couple of tecks showed up to fit the brace. She
made sure he was sedated first, and he spent the rest of the day sleeping,
dreaming worried dreams of the future.
*****
Willman had come to Sisko that morning, not bothering with an excuse. He
had suggested another walk, and they had barely left the building before
Willman had told him. He knew where the machine was hidden, and they
must get to it first. He'd already told Dax and O'Brien, and they were taking an
early lunch.
It had been annoying that Willman had sent Dax and O'Brien off to check on
the equipment himself. But if it meant finding it before it was used he was
willing to forgive the doctor. The Vorta had made veiled references to their
problem three times now. Each time it had been a little more pointed. But
none of the meetings had any real purpose. He knew what authority he had in
a situation like this. It always ended with the ultimate act of sacrifice, using
"official channels" and turning someone over to the Dominion.
Sisko had not been sleeping well, worried that he would be forced to consider
that ultimate option. But he knew it might come to that. He wished his people
could find nothing, but that would simply delay the inevitable. Finding the
machine would mean its destruction. As long as they found no one with it, he
would not have to consider that option and for a few days the relief would let
him sleep.
*****
He lay flat on the bed, his eyes closed, trying to ignore the pain. Therapy had
ended a little while before, and just wanted to try to sleep. The muggy late
summer heat had made the room too hot to draw the curtains, even if the
distractions were a problem. At least there were few; almost half the patients
in the room had been released. The rest would be soon. They came back,
though, to visit. Even Duncan still came regularly. And with them they
brought the outside into what had been a refuge from it.
Lonnie still came regularly, though she was often too busy to stay long. She
had promised a longer visit today, and he half_hoped she would have to go.
They had made him stand that afternoon. He had someone holding both arms,
but he had put weight on the leg. He had even taken a step. The therapist had
been impressed, and called it a great achievement. He had found the level of
pain it produced more impressive.
Willman had suspended the lessons, for now, so he could concentrate on his
therapy. His orientation into medicine as it existed here was done. When he
was strong enough and could get around, he would be working directly with
Lonnie so both could get a more practical feel for what they had learned. He
looked forward to that, despite his worries about what lay outside, and the pain
that he knew would never disappear.
But he was worried about Lonnie. She had changed recently, since the rumors
about the terraforming experiment had spread everywhere. She had gotten
very cautious. Their personal conversations had lost all the openness. He
could tell she was scared, the same fear that was in everyone they met, and
understood. He knew better than most just how viscous the Dominion could
be. He had written her a letter, "talking" about the fear. He would manage to
slip it to her someway.
The ache in his leg had dimmed by the time she arrived. He missed the smile,
but doubted she was in much of a mood for it anyway. She greeted the others,
and sat on the empty bed next to him. "I heard about your step. Dr. Willman
was most impressed."
"I could have done without it." He said, hesitantly, unsure of her mood.
"You have to start sometime." She looked at him, a hint of a smile. "It's so
stuffy in here, how would you like to go outside?"
It was the worst idea he could think of, making him leave his bed and move his
leg, but he understood that the best conversation he was going to get was
reminders of things he didn't want to remember. "I don't think I'm up to
walking yet," he said.
"You won't have to." She left and returned in a few minutes, pushing a
wheelchair. She helped him into it, as gently as she could.
It was much less stuffy outside, and a little cooler. She pushed the chair to a
deserted bench partly shaded by a building. She sat on the bench, not looking
at him.
"Have you heard?" she asked, almost whispering. "I guess not." She looked
numb and scared. He started to feel nervous.
"They found terraforming equipment, used recently. I guess they destroyed it,
but . . . . " She looked at him, and bit her lip nervously. "They know. They
have to."
He couldn't think of anything to say. It was like a bad dream come true. He
remembered the morning he had come to in the barracks at the internment
camp, and felt almost the same now. "I wrote something," he said slowly,
quietly. "Can you . . . . "
She sat next to him, taking the pad from him and hiding it. "I'll read it first.
But I don't think we can do this anymore. It might be too risky."
He nodded. He was looking around the small square, where here and there
people sat in silence. The rumor had not taken long to spread. "I wouldn't
want to be whoever did this," he finally said.
Lonnie squeezed his hand. He didn't even realize she had been holding it. He
was far away, half lost in a nightmare. Hesitant, she said carefully, "Maybe,
maybe they'll leave everybody else alone."
He squeezed her hand. "Maybe we'll be lucky."
They sat in the sun until she had to go back. He lay in his bed the rest of the
day, remembering what it was like to live with the Jem'Hadar. She did the
afternoon review of patients. He didn't think either of them would sleep that
night, but wouldn't be alone..
*****
The meeting was secret, and its grim nature was written on the faces of all of
them. There were no positions or titles here, just four people desperate to
prevent disaster.
"You're certain the equipment had been used," asked Sisko resigned, hoping to
hear a ray of hope.
"Absolutely no doubt. Not only was it dirty, but the chemical sludge inside was
almost gone." O'Brien sounded depressed.
"It shouldn't be hard to find the test sight," offered Dax, "unless it's a very
small patch. But it might look a little suspicious if we go searching." Even
Dax's usually distant voice sounded worried.
The four of them sat for a minute, contemplating what this meant for the
future. Finally, Willman broke the silence. Looking at Sisko, he said softly,
"It's time to be the bad guys."
O'Brien looked around the room. "You think that will make a difference?"
Sisko sighed. "Even if it doesn't, we have to try. And, I suspect it just might.
It won't help Blanchard or his people, but it might help the rest of us."
"The rumor mill's been pretty busy. They all know the details. It's got people
on edge, and they're scared." Miles thought for a minute. "Blanchard has
been spending an awful lot of time with his Bajoran friend. They've been taking
a lot of walks out of town too. The other day they barely made it back before
dark. They were real dirty, too. I wonder . . . . "
Willman was getting impatient. "What we *need* to do is find out where they
have the bulk of it hidden. Destroy it and there won't be anything left to find.
And come down as hard as you can on those involved. I don't think half
measures are going to do much this late. That is, if you want my opinion."
"Go on," said Sisko.
"I think I know the general location. It has to be in the caves that honeycomb
the mountains behind us. They are the only place a scan wouldn't have found
the equipment. The only trouble is there are so many caves in those
mountains that you would almost have to know which one you were looking
for."
"Do they connect at all?" asked Miles.
"Yes and no. A few do, but most of them have a series of small caves which
dead_end in a single large round cave. If I were going to hide something, I'd
take that approach, where nobody is going to accidentally find the stuff. The
problem is if we go snooping around there, it's bound to raise suspicion with all
the wrong people."
"So, what do you suggest?" ask Sisko, wearily.
"Make the area above us off limits without permission. If they ask, we give it to
them. And follow them. I know this will inconvenience a lot of people. But
this isn't a popularity contest. You're not going to like what they call you. But
all of that is besides the point. Rumors don't matter. People's grumbles don't
really matter. But they aren't going to tolerate wholesale violations of their
rules like this. The aim of our plan has to be finding the equipment and
destroying it, and making a few examples for people to remember. I really don't
think anything less is worth the bother."
"What if we bring in Blanchard and ask him about it?" asked Sisko.
"I don't know if that is a good idea right now. I think he has an experiment
going. If I know Justin he won't hear anything anybody says unless it fits his
plans."
Sisko was frustrated. They stood on the edge of disaster and Blanchard would
never see it. "Would he admit to this experiment if we asked, given the
evidence?"
"Perhaps. If he's finished. He'd never take a chance on you closing it down if
he wasn't. He'd just move everything and we'd never find it. And he'd probably
hurry it along too. I don't think confronting him is the best thing right now."
"What about Tarlan? He has to be involved. If they're still busy I'll bet he's the
one doing the leg work. We should keep an eye on him," Miles offered.
"That might be more productive," agreed Willman. "I still wouldn't confront
him, though. Just keep track of him."
"What if they are done?" asked Dax. "I doubt they'll go anywhere near the site
in that case."
"Then Ben can use some of that discretionary authority he's got." Sisko began
to look uncomfortable. Willman looked at him. "Ben, you have to do
something to end this. Whatever it takes. If it takes making a sacrifice of
Blanchard you will have to do that."
"Only as a last resort," said Sisko. "And with proof. "He looked grimly at the
others. "But if that is what it comes down to, I'm willing to do it."
There were other things to say, but the secret meeting could not be allowed to
look suspicious. They all had official work to finish. They left with a nod.
Jadzia stayed behind.
When they were gone, she studied his face. "Are you willing to turn him over?"
Sisko had a look in his eyes she hadn't seen before. "Old Man, I sat up the last
three nights trying to find some other way. It's either a test or a trap. If it's a
trap, then we already set it off and it won't change much for Blanchard or any
of his friends. But if it *is* a test, I just might be able to save the rest of us. I
have to try." There was pain in his eyes, but determination as well. He had
made up his mind, and should, by some miracle, Justin Blanchard live a long
safe life, Benjamin Sisko had already paid the price.
End, Legacy, Year 1, Part 3, Chapter 14