The BLTS Archive - Nolle Prosequi
Third in The Layover Stories
by Blue Champagne (rowan-shults@sbcglobal.net)

---

Hi. Blue Champagne here.

This story is a sequel to the Layover story "Nolo Contendere" in the
sense that it assumes the events of the Layover stories, and is more
fun to read if you've read those stories or at least "Nolo
Contendere", but it isn't absolutely necessary; it isn't a direct
continuation of the plot. This story takes place just after "Distant
Voices" in the third season of DS9--post-Generations, pre-First
Contact.

In terms of the B.C. Champagne Glass narrative universe, this story
takes place just prior to "Identity Crisis" in the main universe.

Everyone and everything is owned by Paramount and not me. I own the
particular events and dialogue and narration only. I'm not making any
money off this, Paramount. (Genuflection)

One other thing that I thought might be confusing people--in this
story, as in "Metascar", "In Another Life", and probably others that I
can't remember, there are references to certain abilities Deanna has
that I extrapolated from the black eyes all Betazoids have and certain
things that were revealed (I think) in the TNG ep "Genesis". Deanna's
reactivated dormant DNA turned her into an amphibian. I grant you
we've all got dormant amphibian DNA, but Data mentioned Betazoids
specifically as being of especial amphibian descent, and Earth
amphibians don't use lungs, late-evolutionary-model respiratory
devices, to process water oxygen, but Deanna apparently did; plus she
was humanoid, with well-developed hands and opposable thumbs, could
kneel upright, etc. I interpret all this and other stuff to mean
(besides meaning that this is a tv show and there's only so far you
can go with makeup on human physiology) that Betazoids remained
amphibious after becoming humanoid and bipedal--not that unreasonable;
it had to come in useful, especially if the planet remained very warm
and wet, which was the environment Deanna preferred even before her
transformation was finished. (It's also the sort of place you find
most Earth amphibians, which was probably the writer's point, but I
digress.) If so, Betazoids would have needed to be able to see in low
light, both underwater and in the general gloom of heavy humidity and
profuse plant life--a tie-in with the black eyes. Deanna no longer has
heavy nictitating membranes over her eyes, of course, but still.

So my supposition is that Deanna can see in light levels lower than
many humanoid species, is reasonably at home in the water since her
maternal ancestors' senses would have been being used there much later
in their evolutionary history than ours were, she can remain
underwater longer than we can (that one I can't justify well, but I
threw in something about her needing to hyperventilate a bit before
she goes under in "Metascar",) and prefers warmer, less dry
environments. None of this so much as would a full Betazoid, of
course, but she does handle the cold and such better than full
Betazoids do.

Okay, that's it, here we go. Hope you like it. :)

---

"...and though there are no signs remaining of the original
inhabitants," the tour guide was saying, "they're believed to have
been the ancestors of a race of people who farmed the land around the
Agdan Delta. The particular shape of the windows, here near the top,
tells us..."

Kira faded out again, trying to keep an attentive look on her face for
the benefit of the Vedek at her elbow; Airmid had been on the
subcommittee of the Commerce Commission she had given a presentation
to earlier that day, and she had been able to think of no polite way
to turn down this invitation for an outing to the Spires of Remai,
since she had stupidly made it clear when she asked for questions that
she had all the time in the blessed world for them, and it *was*
rather an honor to be invited anywhere at all with Vedek Airmid. She'd
rather have sent one of her lieutenants to do the presentation, which
lieutenant could then have been getting thusly honored, but anyone
below her rank would, without an excellent excuse on her part, be an
insult to the Commission members. She wondered if she could fake some
kind of emergency and have her pilot just beam her up now. She wasn't
much for archeology; all too often it involved studying old art.

She stifled a yawn and continued to stand quietly near the rear of the
group, staring out at the single neighboring tower that could be seen
from the window they were near; natural bridges joined several of the
towers in the cluster that jutted up from the rocky base that sloped
to the desert floor far below, and one joined almost directly beneath
the large opening in the rock they were standing near. The guide had
already pointed out the weathered remains of steps cut into the rock
that led to the opening, and told them that it was believed there had
been ladder-grips cut into the rock face outside at one time.

She was beginning to think there was no way there could possibly be
this much scholastic lore about a bare stone chamber, no matter how
ancient, especially considering the climb to make it up this far. 'At
least we could have skipped the scenic route,' she thought sourly,
eyeing the lift that ascended partway up the side of the tower she was
staring at.

The tedium suddenly became irrelevant as a loud crack resounded
through the chamber, and all her senses became focused. As her eyes
widened, then narrowed, she saw smoke and dust billowing up from
either side of the base of the neighboring tower. "Get DOWN!" she
shouted.

Everyone ducked. Through the ensuing chorus of confused and frightened
exclamations, she shouted at the guide "How many groups are over
there?"

"Only two," the guide told her, and Kira said "All right, we need to
get everyone out of here. If that lift--"

There was a shudder, barely palpable, and Kira could have sworn she
saw the stricken tower, its base shrouded in haze, move. She cursed.
"Is there any way down from that tower besides the lift?"

"No, there's no ground access to that one, the, the Pweiokhu--they
used the bridge--that's why the lift--"

"Then the tour guides might try to come across that way. You and you,"
she snapped, pointing at a tall Bajoran man and a woman, of a race
with which she was not familiar, whose head brushed the ceiling,
"we're going to watch for anyone who tries to come over and help them
up to the window here. The rest of you--" she looked at the guide.
"Get them down. Keep it orderly, people, but keep it moving. Let's go,
let's go...please, Vedek Airmid. I can't be responsible for your
safety."

Appealed to that way, the woman nodded and proceeded down with the
others; Kira could hear the guide's voice echoing back up to them amid
the reverberating noises of the mass exodus, enjoining everyone to be
calm, no pushing, no running...she looked back out the window as her
two deputies came up next to her. "If we don't see anyone in a few
minutes," Kira told them, "you two can go on down with the others."
They all three shaded their eyes, gazing worriedly across the chasm to
the afflicted tower.

"Do you know what sort of explosion it was?" the woman asked in a deep
voice.

Kira chewed her lip. "Can't be sure. I'd say some kind of plastique
explosive, but I'm not sure what this sort of terrain does to the
sound of a bomb going off."

"But it *was* a bomb, not some kind of accident, Major?" the man
asked.

"If you can think of what kind, be sure you tell me. I'd like to
believe it." The lift, facing their tower at the top of its track, had
not moved. "Power's probably out. In fact, I'd almost hope that it
was--the shift we saw might not look like much, but it'd be more than
enough to pull the track far enough out of true to keep the lift from
moving more than a few meters. If the power's out, they shouldn't
waste time trying it--emergency lights should be enough for the guides
in inner chambers, if anyone's still in there, to see their way by."
She chewed her lip. "I've got a runabout in orbit, but it can't take
up more than two people at a time; if there's an explosion here, I'll
have you two beamed up first, and--" across the chasm, there was
movement in the window above the wind-eroded bridge of volcanic rock.
Then she saw several people sliding carefully down the rough face of
the tower to the bridge.

"Get ready," she said, and eyed the distance down to the bridge as the
tourgoers began advancing at as rapid a speed as they could force
themselves to. "They'd better hurry; that tower's settling. The bridge
may hold it up, and it may not--this old volcanic rock isn't that
heavy and the join at that end is pretty thin. I hope they don't waste
time going down so many levels to try the lift."

In a few moments, a young woman holding a baby was staring, chagrined,
at the stretch of rock above her that led to Kira's hands.

"Grab my ankles," Kira said to her Bajoran deputy as she climbed up on
the sill.

Once she was head down and vertical, he didn't have to lower her any
distance; she could get a secure hold. "Give me the baby," she said
just over the wind noise. As she was reaching, the tall woman was just
able to reach down and grasp the arms of extended children, lifting
them in as quickly as she could.

Shaking in terror, the girl raised her sleeping infant to Kira's
hands, and Kira's anchor pulled her up.

She got her feet back and cradled the infant in one arm, away from the
window. "All right--the rock spur and this window are wider here than
at that end," she shouted down through the wind noise, "and we'll get
everyone in a lot faster if you just boost each other--we'll grab the
first few, and then we'll have enough people to speed things up. You
and you--yes, and you three, fine."

The largest people had instantly started to the fore; there was room
for five of the burlier to line up against the rock and start hoisting
those slighter toward the window's lip. The baby's mother came first;
Kira's anchor helped her over the sill and the girl gratefully took
the bundle back into trembling arms. "Thank you," she whispered; Kira
patted her arm but gently turned her and gestured her toward the far
side of the room to make way for the next person.

"Come on, let's move it--when you get in, head to the back. We have to
get almost everyone in before we can go down, to make sure everyone's
accounted for--we can't do that if we're split up--so put some speed
on it. I know, I know--don't look down, whatever you do. Look up. Look
at us. That's right, keep it coming now, doing fine, keep it
coming..."

When a tour guide was hauled up, Kira nabbed her and asked "Do you
know exactly how many people there were inside when you heard the
explosion?"

"I...the lift...we just fill the lift."

"Was there anyone who wouldn't be able to make it across that bridge?
Any species with special survival gear, gravity walkers, anything?"

"No, not...not in this group..."

Shortly the other tour guide was lifted in as Kira heard another
ominous rumble. "I think it's going down," she muttered to one of her
helpers, then said loudly "All right, let's check our own parties and
make sure everyone's accounted for. DON'T panic--we aren't leaving
yet, I can see there are still a few headed this way, but start your
headcounts now, it'll speed things up when we do get everybody over.
Were there any singles in either group?"

"We had a few," the young woman with the baby volunteered. "But I see
them all...wait. Where's that woman--the one in the green dress, who
went to get the other

group--"

"*Who* went to get the other group?" Kira snapped.

"I saw her," a man said. "Didn't she say she was going back down to
the lift to make sure no one had tried to get down that way?"

"I hope she's on her way back up," Kira said grimly. "These places are
warrens--if she gets lost..."

"My husband--" a Bajoran woman grabbed Kira's arm. "He's an
archeologist. He left the group to look at the levels below the one we
came into the tower on. My group met the woman in the green dress, she
told us to go up to the bridge, not try to use the lift."

"And you haven't seen him yet?" Kira hoped to hell there wasn't an
injured man trapped over there.

"She went to find him," the Bajoran woman explained. "She told me to
go on with the others--I wanted to stay, but she--"

Kira swore again. "Is there any power over there? Any lights at all in
the caverns down below the open levels?"

"The power was out," a teenage girl said. "There are lights in some of
the inside chambers, and they went out, and the forcefields blocking
the researcher-only areas. There were some emergency lights on--"

"But not," the tour guide interjected, "below the bottom lift level."

"I wonder how she intended to see to find him," Kira worried.

"She's not Bajoran," the archeologist's wife hastened to add. "That's
why she went. She had the largest black eyes--she said she'd be able
to see well enough. She told me to go with the others, that she
wouldn't leave until she knew he wasn't hurt."

"Betazoid," came a voice from somewhere in the crowd; Kira spotted a
human woman. "She was in my group. She's Betazoid."

"She better be a damn fast Betazoid," Kira muttered, shading her eyes
again to squint across the glaring desert noon.

"There's my husband!" The archeologist's wife said excitedly,
pointing. The last figure Kira saw was already on the bridge, moving
fast.

"All right, except for the woman in the green dress, do we have
everyone? All the singles accounted for? Okay then, every--" she was
drowned out by another rumble from the other tower, and this one got
louder.

"Prophets," the archaeologist shouted as cries and prayers rose from
the crowd. "There's no way it can fall this way, is there?"

"No," Kira shouted back, "there's the bridge, and the explosion was on
the other side--that's the way it'll fall, if the bridge won't hold
it. Did you see damage?"

"Did I see damage? Only about a quarry's worth." The rumble began to
diminish.

"Where's the woman who came to find you?"

His brows drew together. "What woman?"

"Terrific," Kira gritted, then said to her deputies "You two and the
guides, start taking everyone down. I'll stay here in case she makes
it to the bridge."

"I'll stay with you," the tall woman said, and Kira hesitated, then
acquiesced. "All right, until I tell you it's time for you to get down
with the others."

The tall woman nodded, scanning the windows of the other spire. Kira
noticed that her white-irised eyes had pupils that'd shrunk to
pinpoints; whatever species she was, she could probably see through
the glare.

As the guides and Kira's anchor got everyone moving, at the painfully
slow trickle of a large group through a narrow passage, Kira and the
tall woman maintained their watch at the window. Kira touched her comm
badge. "Kira to runabout Amazon."

"Kelley here, sir. Go ahead."

"We've got a situation down here. I want you to scan my area for
Betazoid lifesigns. It should be an isolated sign; if you can get a
lock, beam whoever you lock onto aboard. If you--"

There were louder cries of consternation as another earsplitting crack
sounded and a sudden jolt made Kira throw her arms out for
balance--not an explosion, this time, she saw. The other tower had
moved perceptibly, becoming at least three meters shorter, and dust
was billowing out toward the desert flats on the far side of it; the
attenuated strip of rock that was the bridge had broken from it,
crumbling and jagged. The distance was foreshortened; she couldn't
judge exactly how much space separated the rock face on that side from
the bridge, which still jutted out into space from their end, where it
was attached far more firmly; but she suspected it'd be too far for
the average Betazoid woman to jump by a factor of about four,
especially if said woman had just been conked on the head by the
ceiling. Kira prayed otherwise. "Kelley! Have you found anything?"

"Nothing yet, sir," the pilot told her.

"The woman you're looking for is out of time!"

"Increasing scan intensity."

"*Damn* it--there's so many people so close by," Kira muttered, "or
Kelley could just scan for a lifesign and beam up anything she found.
Or if we had the Defiant's sensors instead of only a runabout's--"

She saw a flash of movement at a window halfway between the lift, and
the level near the top where the natural bridge had attached. She
leaned forward, a hand on the broad sill. "Did you see that?" she
asked the tall woman. "Could you make anything out?"

"Yes. I believe she's seen that the bridge is broken."

Kira slapped her badge in aggravation. "Kelley, you should be picking
her up. We just saw her, and this rock certainly won't block your
sensors."

"I'll broaden the parameters of the scan," came Kelley's voice.

Kira picked out a flash of pale green moving across a window--lower in
the spire than the first window they'd first seen the woman at. Kira
murmured "Maybe she saw a way out down where all the damage was."

That hope was swiftly dashed. A small figure appeared at a window near
the lift, then vanished and reappeared at the one nearest that lift,
and stepped up on the broad sill, the fabric of a full skirt billowing
in the desert wind. As the woman was silhouetted against the pale
rock, Kira realized why Kelley wasn't picking her up.

"She's going to try to climb down the lift track," the tall woman
whispered, "but there's so little to grasp--"

As there came another rumble and the woman swayed and grabbed for
balance, Kira hissed "She'll never make it--that thing's going down
*now*." Before the tall woman at her side could react, Kira had
scrambled over the sill and dropped to the rock bridge below, charging
along its length, hitting her badge again. "New scan, Kelley!" she
shouted. "Scan for human lifesigns! Maybe those'll register--"

"I'm picking up fifteen...seventeen humans in your immediate--"

"Forget it, it's too late anyway--I'm leaving this channel open," Kira
panted, having to slow her pace a little as the rock narrowed. "Lock
onto my signal--when you hear me yell 'now', activate the transporter
*at once*!"

"Aye that, sir, at once."

She could see the green-clad figure clearly now--and the woman's
frantic gesturing for Kira to stop, go back. Ignoring it, Kira got as
close to the left-hand edge as she could, yelling, across the wind and
down to the woman, "I'm going to jump! The runabout will beam us up!"

The dark head shook again, frantically, and Kira yelled "On three! Be
ready! Because I'm jumping, one way or the other!" She saw the
head-shaking stop, and the woman was frozen a moment; then she swung
out onto the roof of the lift.

"If we both give it all we've got," Kira bellowed, "we'll be able to
grab each other!" She held a fist high preparatory to illustrating the
three-count, reflecting that their timing had better be perfect.
'Well, our timing together was pretty good before...'

"One! Two! *Three* NOW!" She had taken three running steps and now
sprang outward with all her strength, soaring over the abyss.

As her insides leaped into her mouth, her picture of the scene slowed
to a crawl. She'd have sworn she could see the concentration in the
green-clad woman's face in the last instant before she herself slammed
into something solid and mobile, just as the transporter took the last
of her vision.

At the window, the tall woman saw the green-clad figure make a
powerful standing leap away from the side of the tower and contact the
Major with a shock, spinning them both in the air; as a unit, they
plummeted...and sparkled out of sight, meters from the ground.

As the tower of stone swayed a final time, the lift broke free of its
track, tumbling over and over before fragmenting on the rock below.
The track itself was peeling off from the tower and falling back in
the direction of the stable spire and the tall woman, who stood frozen
at the window a moment as tons of dust rose into the air, gradually
enveloping the toppling spire of rock that was falling the opposite
way. As the vibrations became more intense, she turned and lunged for
the exit with those few left in the chamber, who were ignoring the "no
running" injunction.

They rematerialized and collapsed to the pad with deathgrips clamped
on assorted parts of each other. Kira let go of a handful of deep
brown hair, a finger at a time.

Kelley was out of her chair, bending to help them disentangle
themselves. The green-clad woman was white and shaking, and Kira knew
she didn't look much better herself. "Are either of you hurt?" the
pilot asked anxiously.

"I'm all right. Thanks, Kelley; good timing."

The other woman stuttered out "Ss-so am I. I can't believe you did
that, Nerys. Why didn't you throw me your comm badge?"

"In that wind? At that distance? Forget it. A miss would have been
fatal."

"Not for you."

"I know, but I have a problem with watching people get buried in
collapsing piles of rock. Especially people I know. I heard what
happened to the Enterprise, by the way--you had to take the helm
almost right as helm control went out. You just can't stay out of
trouble, can you, Deanna?"

"I've been lovely, Nerys," Deanna Troi said, collapsing into the chair
Kelley was helping her to. "Thank you for asking. And how have *you*
been? Still as diplomatic as ever, I see."

Leaning heavily against the console, Kira reached up to Deanna's
windblasted hair, which was lighter than the last time she'd seen it.
In her last few letters, it had changed color slightly in each. She
twined a curl loosely around her finger. "You nearly died a minute
ago, and you're giving me a lesson on manners?"

"Everyone else got out?"

"Yes."

Deanna sighed deeply, closing her eyes in relief.

"What *are* you doing on Bajor?" Kira grinned.

"I'll be meeting Beverly eventually, but at the moment I'd meant to
see you and the O'Briens. I knew Keiko was on Bajor, of course, and at
the station I was told you were giving a talk to the Commerce and
Resources Commission, so I came in."

"Just a subcommittee. Are you assigned anywhere?"

"I've been at Command, and taking some leave. I'll be collected for
technical briefings--classes, really, but I suppose that word's not
dignified enough for a command crew--and eventual reassignment to the
Enterprise-E, in about two weeks. I don't think they're quite done
with the warp drive, or the life support systems, or something."

"Oh, cute. It was a few letters ago you told me you'd been bridge
rated. How's Will these days? Started breathing again yet?"

Deanna chuckled. "He's a little grayer, a little quieter. The same,
mostly."

"I met his twin brother."

"Thomas. Yes."

"Yes. How's Will taking having a replica of himself in a Federation
rehabilitation center?"

"I know he's grateful--to you, for your assistance, and..." Deanna was
reticent only a second, "--generally--that Thomas is out of that
Cardassian labor camp, but other than that...he's chosen not to talk
about it. He doesn't like the reminder of what he could have done--the
way he could have gone--had it been him marooned and not Thomas."

"I can see *that.* When I saw Thomas, I thought he was Will--and you
can believe I got ready to be embarrassed. But when I met him in
Quark's, it was as though he'd never seen me. I counted myself
lucky--I thought he'd forgotten me. I'd only seen him once, and...uh,
I was...I looked a lot different," she amended, making Deanna smile
where Kelley couldn't see, and finished "I just wish I'd figured him
out before I gave him access to the Defiant and got shot."

"Well, don't feel bad about it if it was his charm you fell for. I
did, too."

Kira's eyebrows went up as she smiled. "Really? I feel better. If he
could fool *you*..."

"Oh, he wasn't fooling. It was shortly after the Enterprise rescued
him. He still had...feelings for me."

"I *see*. And did--well, maybe we should continue this on the station.
We ought to go back down and give a statement, and we can pick up your
things while we're at it."

"I'm certainly willing to give a statement, but most of my things are
on the station."

"You got quarters?" Kira wondered.

"Commander Sisko was as accommodating as he could be, but it seems you
have a shortage at the moment."

"Yeah, we do. We're working at making more of the living
quarters...well, livable, but most of them are still a wreck, unless
you're a Cardassian. And an easygoing Cardassian, if there is such a
thing. The chief doesn't get a lot of rest...I can get you a better
place."

"I thought there were none to be had."

"I guarantee you," Kira smiled, having a seat at the copilot's
console, "I'll get you quarters every bit as good as mine."

---

"No," Kira was saying as she rummaged in a cabinet, "they still don't
know who did it or why, though the location's easy to figure
out--various organizations have been trying to get other governments
and peoples involved in Bajor's problems for years. Particularly the
Federation. At least half the people in any tour group at the Spires
of Remai are offworlders, a lot of them Federation citizens. I'm
keeping an ear out; the head of the investigative team has promised to
contact me if anything turns up."

"I thought at least two sources had taken responsibility." Deanna
shifted a little where she sat, readjusting the strap of the deep-blue
backless evening dress she was wearing. They'd finally got back to
each other early that evening, after the carryings-on concerning the
attack, with which Kira was occupied even after they got back to the
station. They'd had dinner at the Bajoran restaurant Kira liked,
Ansar's, and had been planning to pick up Deanna's things from her
temporary quarters, on the way to Kira's, in readiness for the
promised better digs. But somehow that had fallen by the wayside when
Kira mentioned the spring wine she'd purchased on her last visit to
Bajor.

"They were disproven claims, unfortunately. As soon as they know
anything, I will, and then you will, I promise." Kira closed the
cabinet, holding two bottles in her free hand. "By the way, I've been
meaning to ask you--how did you know that man wasn't trapped in the
wreckage at the bottom of the spire?"

"I...didn't, exactly."

"You wouldn't have left until you knew he was safe. You're Starfleet,
and besides, I know you."

"With all those people, all panicked--I tried to focus on him, I
sensed someone was down there, but with so much fear clouding my
perceptions I couldn't pick one mind out...but when I knew, I knew I
had to get out, not as soon as possible but *immediately*."

"Betazoids aren't...how should I put this...clairvoyant, are they?"

"No, not...not usually. We do have...what one might call visions,
occasionally. A few of us do, at any rate."

"You *have* known things there was no way for you to--no emotions to
sense, I mean. You've told me about three different times, as though
they were nothing. This makes four, and those are only the times I
know about."

Deanna grimaced as Kira got a couple of glasses out of another cabinet
and set everything on top of the one she'd got the bottles out of.
Deanna said "*That* seems to be a trait of my very own, and it's
erratic, not reliable at all. I trust it when it happens, but I can't
make it happen. And it's failed to happen in several very serious
situations."

"And no one's ever questioned it, asked you about it?"

"Captain Picard was about to, once, I could sense it. But he didn't. I
sensed...that he had simply decided to trust me, and then thought no
more about it."

"Very flattering."

"I was flattered, yes."

Kira was quiet a moment, gazing at her. "And finding your way up and
down through that enormous pincushion...?"

Deanna was silent.

"You just knew which way to go," Kira whispered.

Deanna nodded.

Kira gazed at her a moment longer, then turned her attention
elsewhere, saying "So, did you see Keiko and Molly while you were on
Bajor?"

"Yes, I did." Deanna cheerfully seized on the change of subject.
"Molly's more than half as tall as I am."

"With or without your heels? I think..." Kira was looking back and
forth between the two bottles of wine. "...this one was your favorite.
Won't be quite the same, of course; different year, different
pressing." She pulled up the seal, yanked the cork out with it with a
loud pop, and poured.

"I'll manage," Deanna smiled. "Thank you." She accepted the glass and
made obvious room on her end of the sofa. Kira sat down with her.

Kira sipped wine. "You enjoyed your visit with her?"

"Hm?" Deanna's eyes bugged a little as she swallowed. "I'm sorry, I
forgot...how strong."

"Yes, this one is." Kira peeked into her glass as though assessing the
contents before she sipped again. "I just asked if you had fun."

"Had fun?"

"With Keiko."

Deanna stared at her a second, then laid her fingers over her mouth
and chuckled. "Yes, I had fun with Keiko. I'm sorry. I had the most
awful thought for a moment. It's just that...before Keiko met the
chief, she and I had a...a little fling. I forgot you didn't know; I
don't know why."

Kira's eyes widened. "You and Professor O'Brien?"

"Mm-hm, though she wasn't a professor yet. She didn't tell the Chief
while we were on the Enterprise together--at my recommendation. Miles
and I worked--if not exactly closely, then in close proximity, a lot
of the time, and knowing Miles, he might have been uncomfortable. He
still doesn't know, so don't tell anyone."

"Shouldn't even come up; I'm sort of his boss. Most of his reports are
made to me. Keiko calls me 'Major' on the rare occasions that we see
each other. But...wow. What a memory for the Chief to live up to."

"Was that a compliment?"

"It was."

"Why, thank you. But...never mind."

"Oh, come on, you can tell your old friend Nerys." Kira crossed her
legs, pale pink silk pants and tunic shining softly over the changing
contours of her body. She laid her arm along the back of the sofa as
she turned to face Deanna more directly.

Deanna said "I didn't want to bring up anything painful. I was going
to say that remembering me didn't slow down your love life, but...how
are you feeling now? About Bareil."

Kira sighed, looking distant. "Some days are fine. But
occasionally...I'll hear something, or have an idea about something,
and think 'I'll have to tell Bareil that' and then I'll remember..."

Deanna reached up and stroked Kira's hair.

Kira whispered "I pray for him. Sometimes I even feel close to him
that way."

Deanna said "You are close to him. You speak to him. You are with him,
then, in a way. But would he have wanted you to remain forever in
grief?"

Kira was still and quiet.

Deanna touched Kira's cheek carefully. "Most likely not, if he was the
man you told me about in your letters."

"Speaking of which," Kira said, and Deanna assumed an expectant
expression, again gratefully accepting the change of subject, "you
haven't been writing much."

"I know, sorry. I usually send your and Keiko's letters off together,
but we hadn't been in range of a relay station for a while, and then
the letters became out of date, and I had to go over them again...once
I nearly mislabeled a couple of them. You would have got hers and she
yours--and they *weren't* discreet enough for that to be all right. If
I hadn't caught the mistake, Keiko would have found a way to leave
Bajor and intercept the Enterprise for the specific purpose of killing
me."

"I wouldn't have said anything. Laughed, maybe, but not said
anything."

"It doesn't take much of a stretch to reason that if she got a letter
from me that was intended for you, you'd have got hers."

"Then she'd probably have killed *me*."

"No. Threatened you, maybe, but not killed you." They both laughed,
and Kira reached over and tapped her glass to Deanna's.

"It's good to see you again," she said.

The expression Deanna got, Kira sort of hoped she'd earned a kiss for
that, but Deanna finally just smiled and glanced down, then back up.
"It's good to see you, too."

"So, anything..." Kira thought back to Deanna's last letter. "Anything
ever happen with you and that for Prophet's love *Klingon* you were
seeing?"

"Yes, it happened, and it's through happening."

"If you'll pardon the expression, what happened?"

"The same thing that would have happened to you and me, if we hadn't
been bright enough to see that from the start. He and I have great
respect for each other--he said I was one of the strongest people he
had ever met, which I still don't understand; my strengths are not the
sort he usually admires. But in the end...I suppose that I wanted him
to have what he wanted more than I wanted to have him, and he seemed
to feel the same. I'm still Alexander's shakh'jim--though he doesn't
need one any more, it's honorary now. We still correspond, though."

"Alexander?"

"Worf's son."

"Oh, yeah, I remember now. You're just a letter-sending fiend, aren't
you?"

Deanna laughed. "My mother keeps journals. With me, it's letters.
Speaking of my mother..."

Nerys grinned. "She sure had this place on its ear. Amazing woman,
according to our security chief."

"Are you sure he used the word 'amazing'?" Deanna smirked. "She wanted
me to convey greetings to him."

"Did she phrase it like that?"

"No, but that's how I'm going to phrase it." Deanna sipped from her
glass. "Anything interesting happening on the station lately?"

"Let me think." Kira sipped, too. "The most interesting thing to
happen recently isn't that happy. We had an alien on the station with
an ability--to make it short, our CMO, Julian Bashir, was attacked by
a Lethean. He projected himself into Julian's mind and nearly killed
him. Julian was in a dangerous coma for a while."

"Into his mind..." Deanna shivered. "I had an experience like that
once. Projection, coma...Will, and Beverly, and I...how is he?"

"He's all right. He figured out how to beat the Lethean and the first
thing he did when he opened his eyes was smile and say 'You'll never
believe where I've been'."

Deanna smiled. "I'm glad to hear he's feeling well. Data admired
Doctor Bashir. They spent a good deal of time together a couple of
years ago--when I was here, when we met. He said the doctor was going
to write a paper about their experiences. They and Geordi LaForge, our
chief engineer--I haven't read it, but I understand it was the talk of
the positron-cybernetic mind circle."

"Hey, then it's a regular mutual admiration society. Dax only spoke
with LaForge--Geordi, did you say his name was?--while they were
working on Bajor, but she admired his insights, said his help was
invaluable. She also liked his discretion."

"Geordi's worked hard for that. He feels much easier talking with the
computer than with other people. Anything else interesting? I've been
on Betazed, out of the flow. It's good to speak aloud again, although
my mother doesn't approve of it when I have a choice about it."

"I told you a long time ago, the hell with that. You have a beautiful
voice, though your accent's changed."

"The more I talk, the less it's there."

"So this gossip session is just for practice?" Kira grinned and
swallowed wine.

"You. I remember how startled I was to find that a woman of such
intensity and directness can be such a tease."

Kira's gaze, on cue, grew more intense. "I'm not teasing. Not if you
don't want me to be."

Deanna drained her glass and set it down. "I don't suppose you've got
those improved quarters for me yet...?"

"*I'm* a tease?"

"I'll bet I know where they are."

"Not far from here at all," Nerys almost whispered. "That all right
with you?"

"More than all right," Deanna said, leaning forward to take Kira's
glass from her hand and set it down, cup her cheek and kiss her
lightly. She pulled back a bit and asked "Are you likely to be called
this late?"

"Oh, they'll call me for one thing or another, even when I've worked
late, about three times a week. You've seen with Will what a first
officer's duties are usually like."

"Then I suppose we'll have to throw caution to the wind."

"The Chief said once, what was it...'damn the torpedoes, full speed
ahead'?"

Deanna cackled. "I've heard Will say that, too." She leaned in again
and their scopes of attention narrowed to each other. As their mouths
met, this kiss first soft, then penetrating, Kira's memory started
serving up conveniently arousing memories from their last encounters.
She'd been having them all night--sometimes having to utter a dazed
"What?" and drag her attention back to the conversation; this woman
was purely exquisite. Deanna had invariably smiled like a cat when
this happened, and Kira now realized why.

Deanna's sheath dress was proving a formidable adversary, but Kira's
outfit was uncumbersome enough that eventually they were flat on the
couch with Nerys straddling Deanna. However, Deanna had better access
owing to the differing styles of their clothing, and as Kira's motor
control started faltering, she realized that this arrangement could
not last. 'Prophets! What did she do, glue this dress on? That'd
explain the fit...'

Eventually Nerys bucked one too many times and nearly fell, Deanna
grabbing onto her where her hands happened to be, up Kira's shirt; she
used the straps of Kira's unfastened but as-yet-undiscarded bra to
steady her.

"That's it," Kira panted, "that dress is coming off."

"Take the straps and pull down, then climb over."

With some minor cursing this was accomplished; the cursing occurred
because Deanna was divesting Kira of her shirt at the same time as
Kira was ridding Deanna of the dress and traffic was complicated.

"Nice couch," Deanna panted as an aside while Kira tried to devour
everything from Deanna's mouth to her waist and Deanna tried to stop
hyperventilating and see straight long enough to get Kira's pants off.
There were boots still in the way. "Quite broad."

"Thanks. Here." Kira pried her boots off and kicked free of her pants.
"You look *nice* in nothing but a pair of high-heeled sandals."

Deanna did an ankle twist that sent the sandals bouncing across the
rug and grabbed Kira again, pulling her back down.

The computer chirped. "Ops to Major Kira."

They both started severely, lost their balance and spilled, falling
against the low table in front of the sofa. "Kira here," the major
snarled as they thrashed. One of the wine glasses hit the floor with a
musical crash.

"Kira? Are you okay?"

Dax. "I'm fine. What's going on?"

"You said you wanted to be notified if we had any word on that bombing
at the Spires of Remai."

"Yes. What is it?"

"It's complicated. I really think you're going to want to take a look
at this."

"I hope so, for all our sakes," Kira growled into Deanna's stomach,
then lifted her head. "Dax, as long as you're on the comm...I've got a
guest staying with me for a while, Commander Deanna Troi. She said
Commander Sisko had dug her up some quarters, but with what we've got
available at the moment I wouldn't ask her to stay another night in
them. Could you have someone bring her things around to my place?"

"Sure. Are you coming up?"

"Yeah. I've gotta get into uniform--we've been out for the evening,
and pink silk isn't my style in Ops. Commander Troi will probably come
with me."

"Great, I'll be glad to see her again."

Kira wondered "By the way, what are you doing up there at this hour?
More research for that paper?"

"Yes. Actually, it's getting a little old. I've been thinking I might
have to take a break--maybe dig up that treatment of Trill-Terran
biological correspondences with a view toward correlating our
histories of adaptation."

"That'd make Julian's day, if you could get him out of the holosuites.
He was in orbit when you asked for his help on the first segment. I
think it was the topic."

Dax chuckled. "I'm here because there's a small comet entering the
system; I've been wanting to run some tests and see what exposure to
these brief spurts of wormhole radiation that have been hitting it for
years have done to the composition indexes. I'll see you in a few
minutes?"

"Right. Kira out."

"Ops out."

"Timing," Deanna sighed, running her hand through her tousled mane. "I
simply MUST work on my timing..."

"You did your best. Like I said, my job..."

"You asked to be notified at once because you knew *I'd* want to
know," Deanna said, pulling Kira up with her from the floor. "My dress
would seem to be a casualty."

"My replicator will give you a uniform--or it should; if it doesn't,
I'll call ops and we'll wait for your things." Kira sighed as they
slid their arms around each other and they both stood quietly a
moment, leaning together. They kissed briefly, and Kira finished,
nuzzling Deanna, "Later."

"Definitely."

---

"Dax. You remember Deanna Troi."

"Yes, I do," Dax said brightly, holding out a hand to clasp as she
exchanged smiles with Deanna. "Kira told me you'd been bridge rated.
Congratulations!"

"Thank you," Deanna said; at the sound of her mellifluous voice, more
than one formerly uninterested head turned toward them and took note
of the visitor. The Commander glanced to one side briefly, with an
expression Kira would have had to call a smirk, then looked back at
Dax. "Beverly's going to be here in two days; we thought we might have
a bit of last vacation before going in for tech briefings for the
Enterprise-E. We're sharing a transport there."

"That's great! But she didn't tell me..?"

"She wanted it to be a surprise--but not so much of a surprise that
you'd take an off-station assignment before she got here and miss her.
She asked me to mention it to you, but I had to track down the Chief's
wife and Nerys first."

"Well, *Nerys*," Dax said, wagging her eyebrows at the Major as she
turned to her station, "go to your board and bring up the latest
communiqué you find listed. I have some other information for you
here, too."

Kira had rolled her eyes at the look Dax shot her, but Deanna just
smiled and Kira was forced to relax, with a soft chuckle. As soon as
the wine glass had bit the dust, Jadzia had embarked on a priority-one
fact-finding mission that would no doubt conclude with Dax pinning
Kira to the wall and demanding details.

As Kira climbed onto her stool, Deanna strolled up behind her, looking
up and around at the method and style of the architecture. "This is
interesting. Not much has been changed in terms of basic function."

"Not much, no, to my neverending annoyance. This place may have been
built to last in the face of attack or systemwide disaster, but as for
most of the internal systems...here we are."

Kira put the transmission up on the main screen. It was a written
missive, rather than a picture transmission; perhaps because not
everywhere on Bajor had the most up-to-date technology yet, and this
investigation, last they'd heard, had been local to the province
rather than by the judicial branch of the Provisional Government. That
was the next step in the investigation, since no offworlders had
actually been harmed--yet the intent had surely been against them, and
they would have been harmed had the effort succeeded.

As the information scrolled past, Kira and Deanna both became
saucer-eyed, as far as they weren't already.

"They think the *what* the HELL is this, Dax?! Is there any record of
the identity of the sender? Not the investigative team head; I know
her and she'd never send us such a piece of--"

"It came from her office, according to the return send data. I thought
you might want a tracer scan--"

"You bet I want a tracer scan," Kira steamed. "This is ludicrous!"

Deanna cleared her throat. "I admit that your hypotheses earlier are
much more likely, from what I know. But perhaps we should call the
team head in any case and--"

"Damn right, I'm calling the team head! Like I said, I know her, I've
known her for years. We're not really close, but she's levelheaded and
reliable, I do know that."

"--so I've already done the tracer," Jadzia continued, "and the
results..." she argued with her board, refining her results as much as
possible, weeding out signal echoes and one obvious attempt to confuse
any tracers. "Here we are. That call actually came out of the Capital.
And I don't mean the capital of Remaith Province."

"Prophets. Can you get me Weirysan? The team head, Weirysan Alune."

"If she's up. I can get you whoever's answering the office comm."

"That's right, it's pretty late in Remaith. That should have tipped me
off already. Damn."

"You've had a lot on your mind," Deanna reminded her in a lilting
whisper, touching her shoulder lightly.

Nerys shook her head at herself, then looked up over her shoulder at
Deanna. "I know. You're right, it's just--that communiqué was a joke.
Somebody is laughing at us--or maybe at Weirysan--and there's not one
damn thing about this that's funny. The Provisional Government would
be hip-deep in trouble if anyone in those tour groups had died
there--I counted people from half a dozen different worlds
represented, some of them Federation. If you hadn't gotten them out--"

"You did as much as I did, on that score."

"Not with dusty death breathing down my neck, I didn't. In any case,"
Kira sighed, "I'm sorry, but with all the worries about the Dominion
added to everything else, the *last* thing we need--"

"I've got Investigator Weirysan."

"Thanks, Dax." Kira and Deanna both turned to the main screen.

It flashed to life, showing a surprisingly young woman, with blonde
hair up in a bun, and a complex earring that grazed her shoulder.
"Hello, Kira."

"Hello, Weirysan. I'm sorry to disturb you so late."

"It's all right, I'm up working on the bombing at the Spires. I
suppose you have question about it?"

"In a way. What do you know so far?"

"The conclusions we have so far are preliminary; mostly all we've got
as yet is what physical evidence we can find. Which isn't much so far;
the archaeologists and other specialists won't let us take a step
until one of them has been over whatever pile of boulders it is we
want to check, with as many sorts of scan as they can think to
perform. Even so, they can't assure us the ruins are safe yet."

"Okay, here's my question. Do you know why anyone would send the
station a communiqué from the Capital and disguise its tracks so that
it looks like it came from you? And why anyone would have the low
taste to inform us, in that message, that your team has determined
that the saboteurs are the Jem'Hadar?"

"The WHAT?"

"That's about what *I* said."

"Prophets, Kira, I've got no idea." The investigative team head was
quiet a moment, with a baffled look on her face. Then she showed the
reason she had her job by saying "Obviously, though, it's someone who
knows you asked me to call you when I had anything. Otherwise the
message wouldn't have arrived at this hour; you know what time it is
in Remaith. That would have been someone who knew about what happened
yesterday and...very possibly either was present when you and the
Commander gave your statements and you and I made it clear we knew
each other, or else knows someone who was present then."

"Assumes more than one, what'll we call it, 'prankster'."

"Not necessarily, but frankly, I am assuming more than one, and I'm
assuming it's more than a prank. Getting that call out from the
Capital of all places and making it look like it came from here takes
more than a few schoolchildren on a dare. Plus, as we've said, it
would almost have to be someone who knows particulars. I can't imagine
how it could have come out of the clear sky; too much of a
coincidence."

"Not arguing there--"

Jadzia leaped in. "One thing--excuse me, team head. Jadzia Dax,
station chief science officer. One thing does smell rather like, at
least, a prankish mentality--the track-covering Major Kira mentioned?
It wouldn't have stood up to any Starfleet tracer scan. Personally, I
could probably have broken through it even if I had to run a level six
and sift through the distortion with a pair of tweezers, but in this
case all I had to do was program the trace and touch a key. It was all
right there except for a little clarification. Also, the content of
the message seems a little...well, impish."

Kira gave Jadzia a look, saying "That's not the word I'd pick. But as
far as tracing it...all that *is* puzzling."

"May I offer a comment?" Deanna wondered.

"Of course, Commander," the team head said.

"You'll certainly think of these possibilities yourself," she began,
and Kira had to stifle a big moony smile at the lyrical way Deanna's
accent came through on the word "possibilities". "It is most likely,
of course, that the message was sent by someone who knows all about
the attack--who did it, how it was done. Someone who knows the
perpetrators, or even is one of them, or more than one. The way the
Major reacted to the message was as she would respond to a deliberate
jeer or insult to the Bajoran people--as is logical, taking into
account all our concerns with the Dominion at the moment. And I think
that whoever it is knows that these things would occur to
us--otherwise the message would have little point. Thus it becomes an
adjunct to the first attack."

"Sort of the opposite of a claim of responsibility," Kira growled
after a moment. "They're daring us to find out who they are."

Alune said thoughtfully "And whether the perpetrators or a sympathizer
were present at the statements--and could easily be close to the
investigation. Throwing it in our faces that we've got a serious
security issue?"

"In that case--" Jadzia spoke up, "--do you think there could be
anything more to the fact that it was the Jem'Hadar mentioned?
Possibly some group disgruntled by Bajor's vulnerability so close to
the wormhole, not satisfied with the defenses the Federation has
provided?" Dax was ignoring her incoming cometary composition data,
letting the computer record it, and leaning over her board toward them
with flagrant interest.

The team head pondered. "The choice of obviously fraudulent material
in the easily-debunked message...if it continued in other messages,
other incidents, on the same theme, then yes, I'd say that could be a
factor. But we'd need a--what you'd call an MO, I think--to
extrapolate that sort of motive, and we don't have more than one
incident, if these really are two halves of a whole."

"We're also assuming there're only two halves," Kira muttered. "I
grant you that it's getting late for them to be capitalize on this
incident again, but it's possible there might be more to this if we
wait. Could tell us some of that."

"True." The team head sighed. "All I can do for now is alert the
Provisional Government Judicial, tell them there are suspicions such
as we've been discussing and see if I can get some help from them."

"You'll want a copy of the transmission," Kira thought aloud.

Dax put in "I'll send it to the office at once." She tapped lights.
"And data concerning the falsified send location with it."

"And we'll brief Commander Sisko on this," Deanna added.

Kira nodded vigorously. "We'll definitely be discussing it with the
Emissary. He already knows everything we do about the bomb, of
course."

"That's all I could ask for, I suppose." The team head smiled tiredly.
"Thank you for this information, Kira, as incomplete as it may be. I'm
sorry I don't have anything more to give you myself, yet."

"I know you're doing all you can there, Weirysan. What is it, four
hours past midnight where you are?"

"Close. I'll get some sleep soon. Thank you again."

"We'll be speaking."

As the screen vanished, Kira shook her head. "I hate this sort of
game. I'm glad you were here, Deanna."

"As am I, if I can be of help."

"So," Dax asked, putting the finishing touches on her transmission,
"what are you two planning for tonight?"

"Actually, we've already done it," Kira said. "Dinner at Ansar's.
We've been so busy with the aftermath of the bombing we've only
started catching up this evening, as though it were any of your
business. Jadzia, what was all that about? You were acting
like...well, like Julian."

The Trill looked slightly abashed, but her eyes lit strangely. "That
bad?"

"Um, yes."

"Sorry. I think I must be more bored with this project than I
realized." Dax seemed to be trying to cover a smile with one hand.

"It certainly sounds that way," Kira muttered, swinging off of her
stool.

"You are," Deanna said, then shrugged and half-smiled when they looked
at her. She and Dax held each other's eyes a moment, then Deanna
turned back to Kira.

"There's one other person I'd like to discuss this with," Kira mused
as she and Deanna took their leave, to a farewell from Jadzia and a
chorus of "Good evening, Major" from everybody within earshot, most of
whom were looking at Deanna when they said it, "but not until we have
something more. Our station chief of security, Odo. Right now, I doubt
he could tell us anything we haven't already figured out, and he
doesn't like too much supposition."

"His very precise turn of mind."

"Exactly. I don't want to bother him until we have something more
concrete. You know, there were a lot of people in and out at the
statements, most of the people in the tour groups gave some kind of
witness report, even if they didn't see much. You think the
perpetrators could have been one of them? That 'archaeologist',
maybe?"

"That would mean a much more carefully planned assault, one never
designed to cause death. Only destruction. And set the stage for that
communiqué. That would make the message the point of the bombing,
rather than the other way around."

"We could come up with this sort of hypotheses all ni--"

As they got into the lift, they heard a clong from Jadzia's
station--rather as though she'd kicked her console, or maybe the
deckplates--and a tall, angular figure in a blue uniform darted in
beside them. "Major," said what appeared to be an adolescent koala
bear on stilts. "Commander Troi? Julian Bashir, station CMO."

"Yes," Deanna smiled easily, "I remember you, doctor. I never had a
chance to thank you for your prompt attention during my last visit to
the station."

"Oh, that was all in a day's work, for me," Julian smiled, brushing
thanks aside. "I only wish we'd had a chance to meet properly."

"I did see you, from a distance, at the Starfleet Medical conference
on Illyria Prime," Deanna remembered. "Congratulations on your
Carrington nomination--you're the youngest ever, by quite a margin."

Bashir looked briefly embarrassed, releasing her hand and nervously
locking his own with the other behind his back. "Yes, that was our
science officer's doing. I *tried* to tell everyone there was no
chance of my winning against the other nominees..." Kira shook her
head at them, and requested of the lift that it take them to the
habitat ring.

"But everyone had faith in you," Deanna surmised. Kira surprised an
actual wicked grin on Deanna's face as the counselor continued
serenely "I'm afraid I missed your talk at the conference--I was
suddenly recalled to the Enterprise."

"Oh, I heard yours--it must be remarkable to work in such an
environment. So many species under so many different sorts of stress
and stimuli--like living in a giant laboratory, for a psychologist."

"In some ways," Deanna nodded while Kira fought the urge to mime
vomiting over the side of the lift.

"I considered requesting a starship posting--it must be exhilarating
to be able to go *to* all those new races and situations--"

"--but if you have to stay in one place, doctor," Deanna picked up
smoothly, "you certainly made an excellent choice. Perhaps you
couldn't have known it at the time, but with the wormhole here, your
infirmary, your laboratory, are the first to encounter lifeforms from
an entirely different quadrant. That's something I'll never be able to
enjoy every day." She smiled sweetly as the lift halted. "It's been a
pleasure speaking with you. Perhaps we could see each other again
sometime in the next couple of weeks."

"Oh, yes! I mean, that was my intention--to ask you to dinner to chat.
We can compare notes."

"That sounds wonderful," Deanna nodded. "If I get the free time--Nerys
and I are rather busy with this recent terrorist bombing on
Bajor--I'll come by the infirmary and we'll make plans. Nerys,
love--are you ready to get back to our quarters?"

Kira, clamping down on any change in expression, moved into the
half-circle of Deanna's extended arm as they stepped off the lift.
Before they could get far from it, she leaned over and nuzzled
Deanna's hair.

After a dozen more steps the counselor took a cautious look over her
shoulder. "He was paralyzed for a moment, but he's gone now."

Kira immediately broke into her high-pitched squeal/whooping laughter,
sliding out of Deanna's grip and catching herself against the wall.
"Oh! Love of...I've never seen anyone handle him so well, not even
Dax, and she's got it down to a science! You were *everywhere* ahead
of him!"

"Can I take that as a compliment?"

"You *do* know that that's going to be all over the station by
tomorrow morning?"

"I'm sorry--if you didn't think it was worth it..."

"Oh, it was. Trust me--the only one here with the gall to hound me for
particulars is Jadzia. Bashir will likely try, but I never have much
trouble getting rid of him, though I could wish I had less. And the
Commander wouldn't stoop that low." She muttered, shaking her head, as
they continued toward the habitat ring. "Every couple of years you get
a shade or two more brassy."

"I've got a long way to go to catch up with you."

"Oh, no--you just wear it a lot better than I do. Bashir'll probably
wake the Chief *up* for this one."

"The Chief? Chief O'Brien? I knew they were friends, but..."

"Yeah, they're inseparable. I wouldn't have figured it, either."

"How did the doctor make it into Ops so quickly? I sensed someone that
I realize now was him, but I didn't see him at all until he was
getting into the lift with us."

"He likes to climb up the ladder accesses, for some reason. I'll bet
he was lying low and waiting for a good time to make a move. And I
think Dax is the one who alerted him in the first place. You can trust
her anywhere, but...she does like the occasional--how'll I put
this--questionable joke."

"Julian *is* rather sweet..."

"Yeah, but he cloys. He's like an unhousebroken puppy."

"A little...perhaps I'd think worse of it if I had to work with him
all the time."

"You would. Especially after you'd wound up with him in your pocket,
when he wasn't chasing Jadzia, which may be another reason she alerted
him." The door to Kira's quarters closed behind them and she spun
suddenly, pinning Deanna to a bulkhead with an arm on either side of
her. "Last one naked's a moldy old moba." They kissed
enthusiastically.

Troi grabbed Kira's shoulder pads and yanked her close. "I love moba
fruit."

"We'll have some later." She continued, as Deanna's hands made Kira
strongly resent her uniform, "Here, I'll...oh, thanks...yeah, but
you're not--the boots."

Gasping, Deanna gave up. "Show me how!"

Their laughter was muffled by the Cardassian architecture, and Kira
guided Deanna's hands. "Remember?"

"Yes, a bit, oh, Nerys, here. Boots off. Now my boots off..."

---

"How many times!?"

"More than once." Deanna helped herself to another slice of peeled
moba from the dish on the table next to them. If they tangled their
legs a little, they fit quite nicely on Nerys's broad-shouldered,
narrow-footed Cardassian bed.

"I said how many!" Kira pounced on Deanna, trying to intercept the
fruit, but Deanna, laughing, simply fed it to her as they grappled,
juice spilling. "Now look. Oh, thank you. Lovely."

Kira raised her head from where she'd been suctioning the juice gently
off the various afflicted portions of Deanna's torso; lips sticky with
sweet, she growled "What, is it a regular thing? Is that the problem?"

"No, you're the problem. You're entirely too proprietary. This woman
killed me, remember."

"You--! Okay, this sounds strange, but she did it to save your life."

"Quite right. Beverly...has been there when I needed her. Our
attraction is sincere, but it's quite eclipsed by the pure camaraderie
of our friendship. We are allies the other can each count on, as I
sense you are with your Trill friend. But...have you two?"

"Who two? What?"

"Someone wants moba juice in her hair."

"No! I mean, we--um. Not like that, no, we haven't."

"I sense that it's occurred to you."

"Yes, dammit. Get out of my--"

"You were very happy a moment ago when I sensed your feelings..."

"Gimme that moba."

With a mutual squeal, they tumbled onto the rug. Suddenly, Kira's head
appeared out of the coverlet that had cascaded along with them. "You
and the chief's wife aren't still doing it, are you?"

"What if we were?"

"You're lying."

"And you're getting better at this."

There was a mad scramble resembling the release of a horde of
Cardassian voles under the coverlet until Deanna slipped out backward
and regained the bed. She announced "I command the at-this-moment
highly strategic moba fruit supply."

The voles became still. A mussed russet head popped out of the
voluminous folds of the quilt, facing the wrong way, but quickly
changing direction so that wide brown eyes could see Deanna holding
the bowl temptingly in both hands. "I didn't say I was going to use it
as a weapon," the Betazoid murmured. "Come have a few more pieces with
me."

Kira curled up in the coverlet, leaning against the bed and part of
Deanna, as they shared the remainder of the fruit in the bowl. "You
change," Kira said, not accusing, merely musing. "Back and forth, fast
and slow. In all directions. But somehow you're always the same."

"We are all always our core identities."

"See what I mean? You were a playful fibbing tease, now you're a
blasted counselor, but your eyes...even when you're playing...they're
always so deep. Always you." Nerys started melting into said eyes; she
loved doing that because she knew--she *knew*--that she could feel
Deanna doing the same thing.

"You're *very* sweet." They kissed, tongues dividing the last piece of
moba. ---

As they were leaving Sisko's office the next morning after briefing
him on the Remai situation, Kira's badge chirped. "Odo to Kira."

"Kira here, Odo."

"I'd like to see you in my office, Major; I've made an arrest. And the
situation is too topical to wait for the weekly criminal activity
report."

"Topical? What--never mind. I'll be right down. Kira out."

She exchanged a look with Deanna. "'Topical,'" Deanna quoted too.

They headed for the lift.

---

"Constable," Kira said as they walked into the office, "this is
Commander Deanna Troi. Deanna, this is Odo, station Chief of
Security."

"My mother sends her greetings," Deanna said as Odo froze momentarily,
but he came back gamely enough.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Commander," he graveled, though his nerves,
or whatever he had instead, were evident to Kira's eyes. She swallowed
a smile as he continued "Please return the sentiment to Lwaxana when
you have occasion. Major," he said, turning to Kira with undue haste,
"I received a report from an investigative officer by the name of
Weirysan Alune early this morning; she said you'd asked to be kept
abreast of her findings in the Remai bombing case."

"Yes, I did. You have something for me?"

"Included with her report were the statements given--including, of
course, the identities of the speakers. This man--" Odo tapped his
desk panel and a wall viewscreen came to life, displaying the face of
a Bajoran man, vital statistics listed to one side, "--is named Evekis
Mosilan. Do you recognize him?"

"The archaeologist," Kira nodded.

"At twenty-six hundred hours this morning, a Karemma trading vessel
was due to disembark from lower pylon one," Odo went on, "bound for
destinations farther inside Federation space. All seemed in order
until one of my deputies detected an unexplained source of singularity
radiation within the vessel itself."

"I take it you're sure it wasn't background wormhole radiation," Kira
said. "What did you find?"

"Evekis had booked passage on the vessel, which listed as its first
stop Ineneol--also known as Yorin Six, a long-established Andorian
colony world. The Karemma do not customarily require that the purpose
of a trip through their space or aboard their ships be stated;
however, the Andorians do, and the purpose of Evekis's trip had been
listed as archaeological research on the extinct races of Ineneol. He
had with him a quantity of equipment related to that end, including
incendiary, for which he had purchase documentation and a permit; he
explained it as intended for use excavating on dig sites."

Kira nodded, folding her arms and leaning her hip against the desk.
"And the radiation?"

"That was traced to the cargo hold where the larger part of Evekis's
equipment was stored. The source was not immediately found with his
property; however, on further investigation, my deputy discovered an
explosive device with a timer apparently intended to be powered by a
diberydium core."

"Cardassian technology," Kira said in a low voice, grim but
unsurprised.

"Indeed so. What had first been classified as singularity radiation
was reclassified as superficially similar diberydiide radiation, and
the sensor scan parameters were reset; the core was found secreted in
a wall near a high-frequency intrasystem subspace radio transmission
conduit, apparently with intent to disrupt the radiation signature of
the core."

"I assume you're working on a reason as to why he'd have hidden
it--those cores aren't illegal."

"No, only very uncommon outside more extensive Cardassian technology.
But Weirysan's team has discovered the type of explosive used at the
foot of the Spire--"

"Let me guess," Kira said. "The same kind found in Evekis's
equipment."

"That's right. It is apparently commonly used by archaeologists on
several worlds, as it lends itself well to extremely precise placement
and calculation of blast strength, and may have been obtained from
stores of it at the Spire itself. Not only that--remains of the
detonation device were identified, but there was no sign of a timer."

"Could've been destroyed by the blast--or, even, there may have been
no timer. Detonation could have been manual."

"A length of plain electrical cable was found in the rubble, leading
roughly from the center of the bottom floor of the spire to the east
wall, where the explosion took place. The team head is satisfied that
its purpose was to connect the detonator to a timer; but there wasn't
even a connection jack remaining--the cable had apparently been cut.
However, when one of the investigators ran a routine scan to determine
the nature of the explosive and the explosion, anomalous singularity
radiation was present, although very faint."

Kira sighed. "Looks like we were right, Deanna. We seem to have found
our saboteur."

"That was my assessment as well," Odo said. "He denies it, however,
even faced with the evidence in hand."

"What's his explanation for hiding the power core?"

"He hasn't given me one. He's invoked his right to legal counsel."

"Fair enough, but--"

Deanna said suddenly, her gaze still trained on the viewscreen that
displayed Evekis's picture, "I'd like to talk to him."

Odo eyed her briefly, then looked at Kira.

Kira was nodding. "He'll recognize me from the bombing, and he'll know
I recognize him. That might be enough to get a confession out of him.
Come on--"

"I'd like to speak to him alone, first," Deanna said.

Odo looked at Kira again; the Major shrugged. "Whatever you think.
Deanna's a ship's counselor, Odo; she might be able to get him
talking."

Odo nodded. "If you'll follow me..." he led the way to the holding
cells, stopping just outside. "The Major and I will be watching on the
monitors," he said. "If you should need us, simply say so."

"I will. Thank you, Constable." Deanna turned and went through the
door, nodding at the brown-suited officer behind the desk on her way
past; Odo's presence in the corridor as she came through reassured the
woman that the visit was sanctioned.

Back in Odo's office, Kira had activated the appropriate monitor
screen and switched to the cell Evekis was in. As Odo came in, Deanna
had just walked up to the force field and stopped, considering the man
in the cell. He was lying on the bunk, awake, facing away from the
door, with an understandably grim mien about him.

"Evekis Mosilan," Deanna said.

The man twitched slightly, and rolled over and off the bunk to his
feet. He was a man approaching middle age, still in his prime, despite
a certain amount of grey in his close-cropped brown hair. He was of
medium stature, with skin a brown nearly the same shade as his hair,
dark-eyed, square-featured. He looked as if he'd spent a great deal of
time outdoors in harsh conditions. His earring denoted a family of the
scholar-historian d'jara.

"I'm Deanna Troi," the counselor said. "I'd like to ask you a few
questions."

"I told the shapeshifter I'm not answering any questions until my
counsel arrives from Bajor."

"Actually, my purpose is only to gain information for my own sake. I
was at the Spires when the bomb went off."

"I don't care what your purpose is; I have nothing to say until--"

"Perhaps you could listen to my questions, and answer, or not answer,
as you wish, when you've heard them?"

There was a pause. Deanna stood, weight shifted to one side, hands
clasped loosely in front of her, her head tilted slightly; she
appeared relaxed, speculative, and almost entirely neutral in
attitude.

"She's good," Kira muttered. Odo made a gruff noise Kira recognized as
assent.

Evekis gazed at her a moment, then sat down on the bunk, asking "Is
Starfleet involved in the investigation?"

"No, not officially. As I said, I'm not here in an official capacity."

"All right, ask. But I'm not saying I'll answer."

"I understand." Deanna paused a moment, then said, her voice rolling
like molasses even over the comm speakers, "I'm glad to see you're all
right. Your wife told me you were still in the Spire, near the base,
after the blast. I can see in light levels lower than what Bajorans
need; I went to find you."

"Oh," Evekis said, and paused, his bearing becoming slightly less
defensive. "You're the woman in the green dress?"

Deanna nodded.

"My wife told me about you. I'm glad to see you made it; that was a
brave thing to do. Or stupid, I suppose, but either way, thank you."

She smiled. "You're quite welcome. I was curious--when you left the
tour group, what was it you were going to look for? You're an
archaeologist, and I'm curious--my Captain is very interested in the
subject, and I know he'll have questions for me."

Kira muttered to Odo--wonderingly, not derisively--"Does she think
he'll buy that?"

"He may very well. He had no criminal record until this incident
occurred--technically he still doesn't, not until and unless he's
convicted--he's not likely to be familiar with even front line methods
of getting information from detainees. He has no reason not to take
her at face value."

And sure enough, Evekis was speaking. "The bottom levels of the Spire
caverns were used to store perishable foods and water; there's
supposedly a dry spring near the center of the bottommost chamber of
that Spire, with carven cistern works around it, but no one's been
able to find any indication of it. There is ample evidence of its
existence, both from ancient records and the Pweiokhu's ability to
survive in the middle of the Remaith desert flats without
much--through some eras, any--commerce with other peoples in more
arable regions. I just thought I'd take a look around--I didn't have
any real expectation of finding anything, but I'd never been down
there, and I do have the clearance to visit the researcher-only
portions of the Spires."

"I see. And did you come across anything interesting before the lights
went out?"

"Nothing, unfortunately; I hadn't had enough time to penetrate all the
way to the central chambers. And after the blast, I was busy finding a
way out. I did know about the bridge, and so when I finally found a
clear avenue upward I didn't go to the lift. That's probably all that
saved me. But what, if you don't mind my asking, saved you? Did you
make it to the bridge?"

"No, I didn't," Deanna said, for all the world as if they'd bumped
into each other on the Promenade, with no feeling of an awareness of
her present surroundings or Evekis's current predicament. "A Major in
the Bajoran Militia, the station first officer, was in the Spire at
the other end of the bridge; she had a small ship in orbit, and used
it to transport us both out of danger."

He nodded. "My wife mentioned her. Said she kept the crowd from
panicking, and got everyone off the bridge and into the other Spire.
She's the first officer here?"

"Yes. She recognized your picture."

He grimaced. "And that added no polish at all to my tarnished legal
status, I suppose."

"She had nothing to contribute that isn't already a matter of record,"
Deanna assured him, waving concern away.

"Then--you're not part of the investigation, but...do you know
anything else about this? I know I'm being held on suspicion of
involvement in the bombing; but since I won't talk, I don't know just
how much of a case they've managed to build against me."

"As far as I know," Deanna said thoughtfully after a brief pause to
consider, "all the evidence against you is circumstantial. You were
present at the bombing, away from the rest of the group and nearer the
blast than anyone else, and your profession would indicate a possible
familiarity with the location. You had opportunity, I suppose, but I
haven't heard that anyone has found reason to think that you have a
motive."

"I don't. I couldn't destroy such a--an ancient--I'm an
*archaeologist*!" He got up and wandered around the cell as he spoke,
face congested, cords standing out in his clenched fists. "Why? What
possible reason could I have to do such a thing?"

"The current surmise is that the motive was political," Deanna said
blandly.

"Political?" Evekis turned toward her. "Why political?"

"Many of the people in the Spire at the time were offworlders, not a
few from Federation member planets. So far, the only explanation would
seem to be that it was an attempt to involve the Federation in Bajor's
affairs, by force."

"I suppose that would be one reason," he frowned. "So the only
evidence against me that you know of is the fact that I was present
and alone at the blast?"

Deanna shrugged. "Do *you* know of any other reason you might be
suspected? I admit that of all people who might commit such an act, my
first guess would not be an archaeologist."

He was quiet for a few moments, obviously stewing. "Would you do
something for me?"

"Certainly, if I can."

"Would you contact my wife and let her know what's happening? Her name
is Sahni Emael. She's staying with my mother--Evekis Skai--in Dahkur
Province."

"I think I'll be able to arrange that. Is there a specific message
you'd like me to give her?"

He was quiet again, then said "Just tell her what's happened, and that
I'm all right."

"That should be no problem. You might even be released before she can
get here--I'm not versed in Bajoran law, but under Federation, you
can't be held long with no more evidence speaking against you than
your presence at a crime scene."

He sighed, sitting down on the bunk again, resting his elbows on his
knees and folding his hands between them. "There's more to it than
that."

"But it can't be much--surely there'd have been a hearing scheduled by
now--"

"Not until my counsel arrives. You see...I was about to leave, on a
Karemma trader, for a dig on Ineneol. I was carrying explosive, and
it...the explosive used at the Spire was likely the same sort. I...had
a detonation timing device too, and it's an unusual variety. It's
powered by a source that the Cardassians often use."

"Really?" Deanna said, with every evidence of objective fascination.
"I can see how that might paint you in something of a bad light. But
still, even that is only more circumstantial evidence."

"I didn't help appearances any when I tried to...I was afraid the
unusual nature of the device would be remarked on, and implicate me in
the bombing. I tried to hide the power core so that it couldn't be
detected, but it was found, and it's probably been determined by now
that it was the power core in the detonator timing device with my
equipment. The residual radiation is rather distinctive."

"Well. That's not a crime, either. Unless you can be identified in a
closer connection with the blast than they've managed to draw so
far--"

"Listen," he interrupted, then was quiet a moment, an internal
struggle evident in his face. Finally he said "I don't know you--all I
know about you is that you risked your life to save a man you'd never
met. But you're a Starfleet commander, and this station is under
Federation administration. I can't testify to what I'm about to tell
you, but--I think someone should know."

"You can't tell the Bajoran authorities?"

"I can't tell everything I know, and if I told them what I'm about to
tell you, it wouldn't do anything but pave the way to a long prison
term when I couldn't explain certain things. I was at the site, yes,
and I was trying to get off Bajor and out of the..." he stopped, and
was quiet again for a few moments.

"I'd like to help if I can," Deanna offered softly.

He looked up at her, meeting her gaze.

"He's gone," Kira half-smiled. "She got him to look her in the eyes."

"Do her eyes have some special power to persuade?" Odo wondered with
his usual haughty reserve.

Kira grinned. "Oh, they do, all right. Watch."

Evekis was speaking again. "I was at the site," he said. "I did know
about the bomb, and the timer in my equipment was the timer used with
the bomb there. But I didn't set the bomb. I was trying to deactivate
it."

Deanna paused, then said "I see. Why did you take the timer?"

"When I saw it--I was an undercover operator in the resistance, and I
know Cardassian technology when I see it, especially when it comes to
bombs and the like. Most of what we had to work with was Cardassian. I
thought--I thought it might be an attempt to deliberately implicate
the Cardassians in the bombing, for what reason I don't know. It's
certainly not the sort of thing the Cardassians would do for no better
reason than to wreak havoc, and bombing the Spires of Remai wouldn't
get them anything they want that I can think of."

"So you took it to avoid suspicion being brought against the
Cardassians?"

He sighed. "Doesn't sound very convincing, does it."

"How did you know about the bomb?" Deanna wondered.

"I was...I was informed...you're not going to believe this."

"I have no reason not to believe you," Deanna said reasonably. "I'm
not involved in the case--lying to me wouldn't get you anything.
Whereas if you tell me the truth, I might be able to find some way to
help you."

"Then...I received a message one night--before the morning of the
bombing--that told me the place and time it would occur. I left the
group to search for the bomb. I didn't find it--but I did find the
timer. By the time I did, it was too late to try following the
connecting cable to the bomb itself; I tried to stop the timer's
countdown, but it had been identity-locked. I finally tried cutting
the cable with my belt torch. When I did, the bomb went off."

"This message that informed you of the place and time of the
bombing--do you know who it was from?"

"Not...not exactly. I think...no." He shook his head. "I don't know
enough to make a useful guess."

"But you suspect."

"Yes." He pressed his lips together, looking away from her.

Deanna abandoned that line of inquiry before he could begin to feel
threatened by it and said "Do you know of any reason you might have
been chosen to be the one informed of the threat?"

"Only if...no. It...maybe it was because I'm an archaeologist--they
might have thought that I would be able to find the bomb, disable it
in time. I'm familiar with the explosives and the hardware involved.
And I'd have an interest in stopping the explosion."

"Why didn't you tell someone of the threat when you received it?"

"I..." he was silent a moment, then said "The threat...the threat came
in a...particularly juvenile form."

"Juvenile? In what way?"

"It was...the words to a children's counting-out song had been
rewritten to convey the information."

"I see. But you took it seriously anyway."

"I couldn't do otherwise. But how could I...expect anyone in authority
to believe that the threat was real, and not some student prank?"

"I understand," Deanna said, nodding. "I see your difficulty. It must
have been horrible for you."

"I could only hope I'd be able to get into the Spire and find the bomb
before it went off."

"Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"That's...it's all I can say. I don't really know anything else that's
useful anyway. But you can get hold of my wife? You can tell her
what's happening?"

"I will definitely see to it that she's informed, and that she knows
you're all right. And if I find any way to use what you've told me to
help you, I will, but as I said, I'm not an officer involved in the
case..."

"I know. That's the reason I've been willing to speak to you at all."
He was quiet, then added "That, and the fact that you could have died
for my sake."

She smiled gently. "We both came out alive, fortunately. Thank you for
your trust, Evekis. I'll go now and see about calling your wife. You
have every reason to hope for the best; you didn't set the bomb, so it
ought to be impossible to prove that you did--and you can't be held
for long only on suspicion."

He nodded to her, with a weary exhalation, and slumped back down
across the bunk as she left the holding area.

The doors of Odo's office slid open for her; she was wearing a pensive
frown as she came in. Kira reached up and laid a hand on her shoulder;
the counselor stopped and leaned against the desk.

"Good work," Kira said, quietly and sincerely. "How much of what he
said was true?"

"It is true that he didn't set the bomb; it's also true that he went
to the Spire with the intention of deactivating it. He did receive the
threat, apparently in the form that he says he did--"

"Speaking of which, it sounds like we're closing in on an MO for
Weirysan," Kira muttered.

"--but he wasn't trying to prevent an incident with Cardassia when he
took the timer. It isn't true that he doesn't know enough to make a
guess at who the bombers are, and it's not true that he doesn't know
why he was the one contacted. He's protecting someone. I think that he
couldn't tell the authorities about the threat because he would have
had to tell them *how* he knew that it was a real danger. There is
more I couldn't read, but he did say he wasn't telling me everything."

"I see," Odo said, considering. "Perhaps...an individual or group with
whom he was associated some time ago--with whom he no longer wishes to
be associated?"

"Maybe because of operations like this one," Kira nodded. "A lot of
people think they're doing the right thing at first, in that kind of
group; then some things get blown up, some people get killed, and
you're not so sure that what the group's doing is justified. But it's
damn hard to back out of that kind of organization once you're in. He
could be protecting them because he knows them, doesn't want them
exposed and caught; or it could be just that if they go down, so does
he. I wonder...the political motive becomes less likely when you take
into account that the perpetrators broke the story before the bomb
could go off. Unless they knew for sure, for whatever reason, that
Evekis wouldn't be able to stop the bomb--but if they knew that, why
bother telling anyone at all? It doesn't make sense."

Odo mused "It does if the perpetrator is unbalanced, or simply wishes
to take care of old business--concerning Evekis himself; your
'abandoned radical group' theory--along with new; whether the
explosion occurred or not, in that case, something at least would be
accomplished. Or it could be a family member or close friend whom
Evekis doesn't wish to see prosecuted. In any case, my thanks for your
help, Commander. I can't alter the usual legal process as yet..."

"Of course not," Deanna told him, her eyes refocusing. "Even my own
Captain would need something more than my say-so for that, especially
in the face of such evidence, circumstantial or no. Nerys? I should
see about contacting his wife, as I promised."

"Right. Let's get back to Ops. We better tell the Commander about what
you've found out, too."

---

When Kira came in the following afternoon, Deanna was sitting at the
desk terminal in a short blue satin robe, drumming her fingers as she
scanned something, her hair curling loose down over the chair back. In
the soft illumination, Kira noticed it had deep red highlights; odd,
she'd thought Deanna's highlights were dark gold .

"Hello," the counselor said, looking up and smiling.

Kira went to the desk to lean down and kiss her, smiling back. "Hi.
Did you do something to your hair again?"

"Just experimenting. How was your day?"

"The usual, with the exception of someone's razorback cat wreaking
havoc on the Promenade. Odo finally had to go spread himself from one
wall to the other to catch it. How about yours?" Kira started for the
replicator to get a glass of spring wine.

"I had lunch with Chief O'Brien, and I've been researching Bajoran
criminal law."

Kira made a face, coming back to stand next to Deanna, wine glass in
hand, and look over her shoulder at the terminal screen. "Sounds
stimulating. The law part, I mean."

"No, it's very interesting--the Bajoran common culture, in terms of
law and otherwise, is more wound up with your organized religious
institutions than any I've heard of that weren't actually governed by
theocracies. I started reading with the intent of looking into Evekis
Mosilan's case, but I got distracted."

"You were probably one of those kids who went to look something up on
the computer and three hours later were still reading unrelated
entries."

Deanna smirked. "Usually without yet having got around to the original
reason I was there. You weren't like that, though, were you?"

"Heck no. But my middle brother was. Not that he got much chance to
indulge the tendency. He was a far better known--and more
dangerous--resistance operative than I was, and he was only fourteen
when he joined. He spent what time he wasn't on missions hiding from
the authorities." She had a sip from her glass. "Any particular reason
you're curious about Evekis?"

"Just concerned for him."

"You're so concerned for everyone. It must be tiring."

"I couldn't say. Nothing to compare it to." She smiled up at Kira
again, who couldn't keep from smiling back. Deanna took Nerys's glass
and had a drink from it, then handed it back to her. "The Chief said
that Dr. Bashir has convinced him to go to a concert by Eminiar Taelan
this evening. He asked if I wanted to go; I said I'd have to see if
you'd made plans."

"Sounds good to me, though I'm not much for Sennit Province
progressive. Might be worth a listen, though--let me just get out of
my uniform. When did he say it--"

The comm chirped. "Odo to Major Kira."

"Kira here."

"I'd like you to come to the infirmary, Major. There's been an attempt
on Evekis Mosilan's life."

Deanna and Nerys stared at each other a moment; then Kira said "We're
on our way, Odo."

Deanna pulled on a dark green tunic and some flat shoes, and they made
for the infirmary with all haste.

---

Evekis lay in a bed in the ward, awake and, to all appearances,
reasonably relaxed. His wife, on the other hand, was standing next to
him, his left hand locked in both of hers. Her brown hair was up in a
bun, but it didn't appear to have been straightened up any time
recently, and while she was obviously fighting for an air of calm
support, strain was evident on her face. Odo was standing just behind
her; when he saw Kira and Deanna, he came around the bed to meet them
near the door.

"Commander," he nodded to Deanna, apparently taking her presence for
granted. He turned back to Kira and said "His evening meal was
contaminated with a common Bajoran vegetable extract to which he is
dangerously allergic."

Kira frowned. "That ought to be easy enough to track."

"One would think so, but the guard who served him is one of my
Starfleet staff, a Vulcan who has been on the station since the
assumption of the Federation administration; the only other person
present was his wife."

"Must be an engineering sabotage operation, then. Sounds like a job
for Chief O'Brien."

"That's my current hypothesis. The only other within any sort of
reason is an attempt on his own life, in which case his wife would
logically have supplied the extract; however, suicide is, in my
opinion, unlikely with this particular detainee."

"You're sure?"

"As sure as I can be, under the circumstances. Commander--" he looked
back at Deanna.

"Yes, Constable?"

"I wonder if you would speak with him again, and with his wife. I'm
afraid that I lack your...finesse with the emotional factor; Evekis
and Sahni are understandably distraught, and you have demonstrated
considerable skill in eliciting information even under those
circumstances."

"Of course. Is there anything in particular you want to know?"

"Unfortunately, if I knew that, I would already have much of what I
need to know. If you would simply reassure them and ask for whatever
information they can give you on who might wish to kill Evekis, I
would appreciate it."

"We can guess already who might want him dead," Kira murmured as
Doctor Andelghi came in, feathers slightly fluffed in agitation as she
examined the bed's readings.

"Guess, yes," Odo agreed. "Someone associated with whoever it is he's
protecting; or perhaps that person specifically."

"Why would he be protecting someone who wants to kill him?" Deanna
asked.

Kira said "Like we were saying the other day--he may have no choice
but to protect this person in order to protect himself. *He* may not
be cold enough to kill someone for having damning knowledge of him;
but that other person may not be so scrupulous."

"Mm," Deanna nodded. She left Odo and Nerys by the door and approached
Evekis's bed. "Doctor," she greeted Andelghi. "My name is Deanna Troi;
I'm a counselor with Starfleet. I was wondering if I might speak to
Evekis and his wife."

Andelghi's feathers smoothed, the crest that threatened vanishing.
"Counselor. Yes, for a few minutes, but I must ask that you not tire
Mr. Evekis. His strength has been severely taxed by a systemic
allergic reaction, and then again by the drugs administered to settle
his immune system."

"I'll only be a few minutes."

Andelghi nodded, and moved away to a computer station; Deanna came up
and laid a hand on Evekis's free one. "Hello again," she said in her
liquid-chocolate counselor's voice, with a smile that somehow managed
to convey concern. "How do you feel?"

He smiled back slightly. "I've been better, but these reactions have
happened before; I'll be all right in a day or two. Commander Troi,
this is my wife, Sahni Emael."

"Hello, Sahni," Deanna greeted her. "We spoke on subspace a day or so
ago."

"Yes. Thank you for relaying my husband's message, Commander--and
thank you again for trying to find him at the Spires. I don't know how
we can repay you for something like that--"

"There's no need to speak of repayment," Deanna assured her. "I'd have
done the same for anyone, and you haven't the energy for such concerns
at the moment in any case. How are you feeling, Sahni? You must be
very worried for your husband."

"Oh, yes--I don't know what we're--" she cut off abruptly when Evekis
turned his gaze to hers.

"Evekis," Deanna said carefully, "you would have been released from
detention in the morning; were you planning on returning to Bajor?"

"Before I can get to Ineneol, I'll have to arrange transportation
again, and that could take time. I haven't much choice in the matter."

"Are you concerned that there might be another attempt on your life?"

He was silent a moment, then began "Many people involved with the
resistance--I mean, undercover agents, as I was--" He stopped and
began again. "There are people who were profoundly damaged during the
Occupation--who see cooperation with the Cardassians for any reason,
even to gain access to information and supplies for the resistance, as
collaboration. It doesn't make much sense, but there it is; and I
can't pretend that I don't understand it at least a little. When your
point of view has been so terribly warped by suffering...I suppose I
can't blame whoever it was for..."

"For trying to kill you?"

"Like I said; some people are never going to recover from the
Occupation, and the rest of us have a responsibility to...be tolerant
of them."

Sahni pressed her lips together and looked away, obviously restraining
herself.

Deanna said softly, "Yes, there are many casualties from the
Occupation who require our care, and our lenience. The person who made
an attempt on your life would have to have been someone who knows of
your allergy, and from what you say, someone with whom you were
associated during the Occupation, perhaps another member of the
resistance. Or, it was someone who was able to obtain knowledge of
your sensitivity, either during the Occupation or more recently. It
isn't necessary to incriminate anyone; but it would be easier to
protect you if there were anything general you could tell the
authorities about your--"

"I told you, I--Commander, I'm very grateful for everything you've
done for me. But I don't know anything that could be of help. It was
over years ago; and the resistance wasn't exactly able to keep any
kind of detailed records."

"I understand. There must be many past associations, good and bad,
that could surface under the circumstances you describe. Has anyone
ever threatened you or your wife with any sort of harm before?"

As Evekis began a reply, Kira, standing by the door with Odo, both of
them listening as well as they could, muttered "I can't deny that her
methods work, but I think I'd go crazy taking fifteen minutes to say
Prophets bless."

Odo nodded pensively. "As would I. We share a forthright approach to
interrogation, and communication in general."

"Can't fight you. By the way, I take it you haven't heard anything
else from Weirysan?"

"She sent a message confirming that the data her team has collected
checks with what Mr. Evekis told Commander Troi, but beyond that she
has nothing new. I've informed her of the murder attempt, but as
closely connected as we may suspect the two cases to be, we still have
no clear evidence of a link."

"I hate to say this, and I don't really believe it, but it is possible
that there isn't any link--"

"Excuse me," Deanna said, having approached their slightly-turned
backs. "Evekis would like to speak to you, Constable."

Kira and Odo looked at each other, then looked at Evekis and Sahni.
Sahni seemed much the same--tired and tense, yet protective--but
Evekis was lying with his eyes closed, a considerably more relaxed
expression on his face; he was even breathing more easily.

Kira's mouth quirked. "Deanna, do you want a job?"

"I have one." Deanna smiled at her, black eyes glittering.

---

As Sisko seated himself in the chair across from her, to Deanna's
right, the Counselor began "The Buried weren't part of the resistance
proper, though it's hard to make distinctions like that with something
as haphazard in organization as the resistance. There were hundreds of
organizations, involving--"

"--hill rats like me," Kira supplied, "servants of the Cardassians,
professionals under the Occupation's authority--like the scientists
working where Odo was brought after he was found--as I said, hundreds
of organizations with all kinds of memberships; most of them were
small. There was cooperation and merging of many groups, but even
under the Cardassians, Bajorans have opinions, and...well, the Buried
went a little beyond opinion."

"In what way?" Sisko wondered, picking his cup up off the table.

"The Buried were a fairly small group, but they were one of the most
troubling to the Cardassians. They were religious warriors, almost
always people who had been through outright atrocity at Cardassian
hands; any degree of cooperation with Cardassia or Cardassians was
unacceptable to them, even so much as obeying an order to keep from
getting shot. They were more than willing to die than submit; before
being formally admitted to the organization, each member swore to die
in the act of defying the oppressors, preferably with as much damage
to the oppressors as possible."

"Hence the name," Sisko nodded.

"They believed that they were called by the Prophets to do it; for
that matter, they believed all Bajor was."

"It must have been confusing for any of them who were left alive when
Cardassia withdrew."

"Oh, yeah. Definitely. Some of them committed suicide, believing
they'd failed the trust of the Prophets by still being alive after it
was all over. Like I said, most of these people were badly hurt
already. It was probably the most unstable covert group in the
resistance, not that I can judge them for it."

"And Evekis was a member of this group?"

"No, but he had a sister who was. He wouldn't join with her, and he
insisted on continuing his work under the overlords; like I said, that
he was using his position for the good of as many Bajorans as he
could, and working with the resistance whenever possible, wouldn't
have made any difference to a Buried."

"You think there are still members of the Buried who remember his
refusal to join the group? Maybe his sister?"

"His sister is dead; she died in an attack on a garrison near Feltora.
But he was known to the group more than just through her; he knew a
lot about them, and it was expected he'd join. When he didn't, his
sister disowned him."

Sisko frowned. "Unusual for Bajorans. One of the few things they had
in common with Cardassia is the importance they place on family."

Kira glanced sharply at him. "We love our families for their own sake,
not as a legacy of selfless service to the all-powerful state."

"Forgive me, major; no offense."

"Right. Anyway, if there are members of the Buried still alive and
still...uh, loyal, I guess is the word, it could be a real problem."

"No longer having death as a goal or culmination for their belief,"
Deanna said, "they could have refocused on any number of surrogate
choices. The most obvious would be, rather than dying for their
people, killing for them with an attendant willingness to die in the
act, very similar to their original purpose. Anyone known to have
cooperated in even the smallest regard with Cardassia, for whatever
reason, could be classed as a traitor and therefore a legitimate
target. There would likely be associated stipulations, such as killing
those the Buried deem to have been most traitorous, recently or
farther in the past; or using their own death or the deaths of others
to gain admission for Bajor to the Federation, or at least to involve
stronger and more affluent peoples in Bajoran concerns."

"The bombing at Remai," Sisko surmised, freshening Deanna's tea.

"Yes, possibly," she nodded. "Of course, we are making some
assumptions..."

"...but we don't think we have much choice," Kira finished. "If the
Buried are still functioning as a group, there could hardly be a more
dangerous internal threat to Bajor. They'd make the Circle look like
an afternoon social."

"I take it you think it would be a good idea to alert the proper
Bajoran authorities."

"Uh...with a given or two," Kira agreed. "If the Buried still have an
active membership, we don't want to risk alerting them; they'll head
underground again--or should I say farther underground--and we'll
still have the same problem, but with even less chance of finding them
and determining what their current agenda is. We do have to inform a
few people--like Weirysan, before she stumbles over something a lot
bigger than she has any reason to expect and raises an alarm--and some
of the Judicial higher-ups; but aside from that, we think too many
people know about this possibility already. I'd like to take a
proposition for action to the authorities when we alert them."

"And that proposition would be?" Sisko folded his long fingers and
looked between Kira and Deanna expectantly.

Kira raised her eyebrows at Deanna, who faced Sisko. "Nerys and I have
an idea..."

---

Deanna shoved herself up sitting on the biobed, blinking dazedly, as
Andelghi detached the alpha inducer from her smooth pale forehead.
Nerys quickly moved next to her and supported her with an arm around
her shoulders. "Easy," she cautioned the counselor softly. "You don't
want to fall out of bed and break it."

Deanna was probing lightly at the bridge of her nose. "How does it
look?"

"Beautiful." Kira grinned, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Like
you were born with it."

"I told you," Dr. Andelghi said, casually whacking Deanna's hand down
with one wing while she finished entering the case specifics on a
padd--which specifics would, for the time, be available only on that
padd, in Andelghi's desk--"don't preen at it or it might swell a bit."

"Is there a mirror about?"

"Here." Kira produced the one she'd brought and held it up. Deanna
examined her reflection critically. "I like the hair," she finally
evaluated, "but you should have let Dr. Andelghi change the color of
my eyes."

"I told you, nobody changes anything about those eyes while *I'm*
first officer on this station. Plenty of Bajorans have dark eyes. Some
darker than mine."

"Darker than yours are now, at any rate. Green is lovely on you, even
as a brunette."

"You can take her to her quarters now," Andelghi said, switching her
padd off. "She should rest the remainder of the day, but otherwise
she's quite fit."

"Thank you, Doctor," Deanna said, started to climb off the biobed with
Kira's help, then paused, a half-amused, half-embarrassed look
touching her features. "Nerys? Could you hand me my dress?"

"Those gowns won't close in the back on you either, eh?" Nerys smiled,
handing Deanna the loose rose-colored smock she'd worn to the
infirmary.

On leaving, they took various less-traveled side corridors on their
way to Kira's quarters. It really was of no great moment if Deanna was
spotted--she'd already been seen on the station, and the reddening of
her hair amounted to no more than a shade or two of increase in the
red-undertoned color she'd been wearing when she arrived; and the nose
wasn't that noticeable a change, if one wasn't looking directly into
her face.

No, they were avoiding someone in particular. Two someones. Well, Kira
allowed, maybe three. Jadzia, for damn sure; Miles, because he knew
Deanna well and would immediately notice the addition to her facial
topography; and most importantly, one Lieutenant Julian Bashir, who
would immediately fasten right onto the suggestion of intrigue and
might prove impossible to dislodge.

"I really don't see what the problem is," Deanna sighed as Kira made
her wait at an intersection while she scouted the route. "I'll just
tell him I'm--"

"You don't know him like I do. He gets one look at that nose, my eyes
and hair, and we'll never get rid of him. Okay, come on, it's clear."

"Whatever you say. But I still think--"

"*Whoops*
backaroundthecornerbackaroundthecornerbackaroundthecorner--he's coming
up this way," Kira warned her, shooing her back the way they'd just
come. "With the Chief."

Deanna half-smiled tolerantly and leaned against the wall, folding her
arms, to wait out the young Doctor's passage.

"...with only three points difference between sets. Won *that* match
by the skin of my teeth."

"Julian, have you ever lost at anything? Anything at all? Please say
yes."

"Of course, Miles, great heavens. Whatever has got into you lately?
You're snappish as if you were four months pregnant."

"What's *that* supposed to mean, then?"

"Nothing. Just that you've taken to either avoiding me or lobbing your
mood at me. Have I done something?"

"'Course not. Don't be an idiot."

"Now I'm an idiot?"

"Have you ever been anything else?"

"I love you, too, Miles."

"Shut up, Julian."

On the closest approach of the two to Deanna and Nerys's position,
Deanna's eyes flew open and her hands leaped to her face to cover her
mouth. Kira eyed her, but waited until Miles and Julian's conversation
had faded with distance. "What?" she then asked, as Deanna dissolved
into giggles.

"Um. Nothing," the empath said, trying to keep her lips closed over a
grin. "I only hope Julian, ah...cares as much about the Chief as Miles
does about Julian."

"I guess he must, though he talks like he hates him. He *did* hate
him, there for a while, but most of us did, except Jadzia," Kira
remarked offhandedly as they continued on their way. "She just keeps
smiling. No idea how she does it. Oh, Prophets--speaking of her..."

"This way," Deanna said, hearing Jadzia's voice as Kira did. As they
took their detour, she murmured "I sense Beverly. She's just arrived;
Commander Sisko will have to wait to tell her that I'll be on special
assignment for a bit. Jadzia must have met her."

"As long as she doesn't meet us. I love her, but she's got a mouth
like a broadsheet. Whew. We're here. Okay, get comfy and we'll start
the briefing. Bajor made easy. Let me pull up a few things..." Nerys
sat Deanna down at the terminal and stood next to her where she could
reach the console. Her free hand kept wandering up to run her fingers
lightly through Deanna's hair; she tried to pay attention to what she
was supposed to be doing. "Where'd they put your translator, anyway?
In your ear or something?"

"No, in my arm, against the relevant nerve bundle. My transponder's
with it."

"I'm still not sure that's a good idea..."

"I can deactivate it if there's need."

"Okay...let's start simple. Table manners. Forget them. Oh, no need to
eat like an animal, but your Fifth House of Betazed etiquette will be
way off for the situation we're supposed to be coming from, and your
cover..."

"By the way, what's your name going to be?"

Kira considered. "Luma Rahl," she said. "A friend of mine in the
Shakaar. She didn't make it."

"I'm sorry."

"You, though...you look like a Meisaal. Luma Meisaal. What do you
think?"

Deanna smiled. "It's lovely."


---

"My ear is a bit sore..."

"Believe me, you'll get used to the cuff faster if you don't mess with
it." Kira raised a hand to her head to prevent her dark, lightweight
leather hat from flying off in the wind. She needed its broad brim to
cut the glare. Deanna was bare-headed, dressed in worn ankle-high
flat-soled boots and a long sleeveless grey tunic of strong felting.
Kira herself was in her usual civilian wear, a pair of high-waisted,
full-cut brown thoroughweight pants, a light green long-sleeved shirt,
and her mesh utility vest.

"Are you sure I shouldn't be carrying our things? You have to do the
talking and all."

"You're supposed to be delicate. I take care of you. I'm not going to
dump these packs on a little thing like you."

"Little thing? You aren't any bigger than--"

"Heads up. Here comes the welcoming committee."

Deanna faded a bit closer to Kira, taking her hand and looking
furtively around at the desert dwellings as they approached. It wasn't
hard to keep her head bowed and her gaze shifting; the light was
painfully bright to her Betazoid eyes.

"Hey," called the man who was coming toward them, accompanied by a
woman and a younger man. Kira stopped, folding Deanna's hand firmly in
her own. "What's your business here?" he asked with no discernible
attempt to be welcoming.

"Who wants to know?" Kira demanded in return, just loud enough to be
heard over the desert wind.

"I'm Ansar Froule. I...keep order. Why've you come here?"

"We heard there was salvage to be had. That true?"

"Depends. Most of the sites are staked out."

"Mind if we have a look around anyway? We might find something that
hasn't been spoken for. You won't lose by it."

"That depends, too." He and his satellites closed the distance between
them, stopping a couple of meters away from Deanna and Kira. "I run
this place; and I get fifteen percent of any proceeds taken from
salvage sold. Poaching on spoken-for sites gets you thrown out of
town, if whoever you're poaching from doesn't get you first."

"We can take care of ourselves."

"You, maybe. Who's that? Your comfort girl? Fifteen percent of
anything she finds, too. And whatever squat you find, I can guarantee
you she won't stay free, whether she junks or not."

"She's my wife," Kira snapped, "and you'll speak respectfully about
her."

"Shy," the younger man opined. "Pretty, though. So are you. You two
could find work around here besides salvage junking."

Kira dropped the pack at the same time as a battered--but sharp and
polished--knife appeared in her other hand; she stepped around in
front of Deanna. "You'll speak respectfully about me, too, little
boy," she hissed.

He colored, but his companions seemed amused at his discomfiture. "All
right," the first man said. "You might hold your own for a while. All
the shelters in town are spoken for; you'll have to work out letting a
place from someone--I don't interfere with that; whatever rent's
charged is what's charged. Usually it's a percentage of takings, like
I get, but not always. Friendly advice; keep a lid on that temper.
Most people won't raise a hand to you, no matter what kind of mouth
they have on them; I don't put up with troublemakers, and if people
are here, they're desperate enough to stay and get what they can--like
I imagine you are, or you wouldn't be here."

Kira considered him. "You imagine, do you." She put the knife up in
the sheathe concealed by the cut of her full-legged pants.
"Desperate...I don't know if you could quite say that. We...made a
little reputation for ourselves."

"Yeah? Trouble with Judicial?"

Kira eyed him a moment, then said "With Administrative. We killed a
visiting Gul on the ore processing station."

"Made it off free? Pretty good. I guess they're still looking for
you?"

"Maybe. Not too hard. But we'll only be here long enough to save up
and get passage offworld."

"Might take a while. Passage with no questions asked costs more."

"We've got a little time. The Gul was even less popular than most with
Provisional, treaty or no."

The man nodded a final time. "Okay then. You can take your shot. Looks
like you'll be able to see to your wife, but anyone gives you trouble
you don't have coming to you, let me know. I like to keep things
running smooth here; I won't put up with anyone getting strong-armed
out of their own takings. Tuath, you want to give them the rundown?"

The woman nodded, and the first man gathered up the younger one and
they started off down the street.

The woman approached them, a few steps closer. On closer inspection,
she was really only a girl; the fierce elements had aged her skin.
"Tuath Lai," she said.

Kira nodded. "Luma Rahl. My wife is Meisaal."

"Guess the spoonheads did for her?"

"She was at Gallitep," Kira said, letting her eyes stray across the
sun-blasted vista that surrounded them. "She doesn't talk much. Except
to me."

"Were you there?"

"I was a hill rat in Dahkur. Married her while we were at Solan
relocation camp; we thought they'd let us stay together. But a legate
saw her and she took his fancy. She lived through it for almost three
months. When she tried to kill him, he sent her to Gallitep. I'm lucky
he didn't kill her out of hand, but sometimes I wonder if it was so
lucky for Meisaal."

"But you found her again." Tuath gestured with her head; Kira picked
up the pack she'd dropped and they followed her toward town.

"Told you, I was a Dakhur hill rat. I knew a girl in the Shakaar
resistance; she brought Meisaal back to me when they liberated
Gallitep."

"Well, keep an eye on her. When people know why she doesn't talk,
they'll let her be; we've got a lot of people who suffered as bad as
Gallitep gave out--even a couple who were there. But until
then...remember that legate. You've got a damn pretty wife."

"Don't I know it." Kira kissed Deanna's cheek; Deanna gave her an
affectionate smile and ducked her head again.

Tuath went on "Every week or so--sometimes two--we get a trader or two
through. Not so many now as we used to; most of the best stuff's been
salvaged. But we get a few--Ferengi sometimes, Liseppians. About a
month ago we had two Romulan engineers looking to get their hands on
some examples of Cardassian technology. They paid top money, in
latinum. Bought a tactical console with a full memory bank from one of
the older hounds; she took the money and went. Haven't seen so much
latinum in one place ever. I was sort of surprised she got out of town
okay with it."

"Lot of poaching?"

"Not usually. Ansar's telling the truth when he says he mostly keeps
order; he's got some help, like me. But that was a hell of a bundle to
let go by. We're going to a place I know; I stayed there until I moved
in with Ansar and Keevan. The woman who runs it used to be a Vedek.
All her kids and her husband died at Holtaris, and she pretty much
lost faith; but she runs an honest place, and most people here respect
her, because of who she used to be."

"Thanks. Sounds like a good place."

"Thought you could use a little help, with your wife and all. She
thinks, though, right?"

Kira chuckled. "Better than I do. When she does talk, I listen. What's
the word on food and water?"

"Ansar and a couple of other people buy rations in Remaith capital
every month or so, sell them at just a little profit. Water's actually
one thing there's plenty of, even for bathing, though a lot of people
don't bother that often. Nothing here to get up nice for."

"You look clean."

"I got a nasty infection once. It's the last one I plan to get."

"Where's the water come from?"

"There's a big vaporator in the center of town. We're coming up on it
now. Plenty of buckets, people just use them and bring them back. I
wondered how there was any water vapor in the air here to condense,
but I've been told it gets pulled from the upper atmosphere. Don't ask
me how; I'm not an engineer."

"How about power?"

"Another thing there's enough of. Most of it's solar. People sometimes
bring their own generators when they come, and if they make enough to
leave, they usually leave the generators. Not much call in civilized
Bajor for half-shot solar mills, with all the nuclear and the good
solar. The generators are pretty much always old, and sometimes
running at half or less, but there's enough. This place we're going,
it's got a setup for hot water baths--you bring the water, but the
tank's big enough for a scrub that'll get the desert off you. Guess
your wife'll like that. Her skin looks awfully delicate."

"She'll get by."

"I imagine so. Here we are; walk up one floor and go to the door at
the end of the hall. That's the kitchen. Norres--that's the
ex-Vedek--she brings in fresh vegetables, fruit sometimes; serves them
most nights, if you can pay."

"Sounds like nearly everything costs around here."

"You expected anything else?" Tuath barely smirked. "Most people here,
we're like you; we don't care for the treaty and we won't treat with a
Federation that won't either take us in or leave us out. So there
isn't anything here that Provisional provides, if you follow me. Come
to a place like this, and you can expect to look out for yourself."

"Yeah. Well, thanks. Look--it's a long walk from Maith Al; I'd like to
get some food and water into Meisaal and maybe have some myself, but
we'd appreciate it if you could show us around--where the spoken-for
sites are, who we shouldn't talk to, that kind of thing. I've got
enough to buy you some of Norres's vegetables to go with your rations
for dinner."

Tuath considered them briefly, her head atilt, squinting against the
glare even in the shade of the dusty prefab building. She said
abruptly "I had a girl."

Kira gazed back at her, then said quietly "You don't mean a baby."

"No."

"Sorry if I seem surprised; you're not much more than a girl
yourself."

"Neither was she. Her name was Seeja Lai."

"Same given name."

Tuath smiled distantly. "Yeah. We were born one year and one day
apart. We took that, and the name, as a sign from the Prophets. I'd've
married her, if she'd lived."

"I'm sorry."

"She looked like your wife, a little. Big dark eyes; nice skin. Same
thing happened to her as to Meisaal, but Seeja didn't make it; she was
Buried. As soon as he laid a hand on her, she attacked him. An
overseer shot her."

Kira glanced away, silent in the face of the chilly impassivity of the
very young woman before her. One thing she had to make sure of,
though.

"Your girl was Buried?"

"Yeah." Tuath turned away, starting off down the dusty hardpan street.
"I'll be back tonight for that dinner." She paused, turning halfway
back toward Kira and Deanna, and added, almost as an afterthought,
"I'm Buried, too. That all right with you?"

"I've got no quarrel with the Buried. In fact...if it weren't for
Meisaal, I think I'd have tried to join. Or sometimes..." she paused.
"Sometimes, I think I'd join because of Meisaal. And people like her."

Tuath, still not looking at them, was quiet a moment; then she nodded
and continued on her way.

---

"Oh, Nerys..." as the door closed behind them, Deanna stumbled to the
closest wall and slid down it to sit on the bare floor. "These
people..."

Kira dropped the pack, hurried to Deanna and sank down next to her,
pulling her close, holding the counselor's head to her own shoulder,
stroking the thick dark hair. "I know. It's got to be awful for an
empath as sensitive as you."

"I'll be fine. I just...need to catch my breath a moment." She did so,
taking full advantage of the wiry strength in Kira's slight body,
resting in the other woman's warmth. "I'm glad you're doing the
talking."

"I am too, if it's this bad for you."

"Nerys..." Deanna gathered herself and sat up, away from Kira. "All I
meant was that it's much easier for me to gather and process all the
data I'm receiving since I don't need to worry about interacting more.
They...what Tuath said was right. Almost everyone here has been hurt
badly."

"Yeah, I can imagine. Here--" Kira pulled the plain clasp from
Deanna's hair and began finger-combing the soft mass. "Let me help you
straighten up a little--do you want me to bring some water for a bath
before we meet Tuath again? I wasn't lying when I said it was a long
walk from--"

"Nerys. Calm down. Don't lose yourself in the role." Deanna trailed
her fingertips down Kira's temple to her cheekbone.

Kira took a deep breath, then opened her own wide currently-green eyes
after exhaling. "Sorry," she whispered. "It's just that I get such
a...such an intense...and I'm not even empathic. What must you be
going through?" She stroked Deanna's face, turning the other woman's
chin up a little with her other hand.

"It's my work. I am a counselor and a Starfleet officer. I'm also..."
Deanna smiled a bit wickedly. "...seven years older than you are,
don't forget."

"I *always* forget that..." Kira traced soft, breathy patterns with
her lips down Deanna's cheek to her neck, finishing "...but I won't
deny it's nice to imagine, just for a while, that you're my wife--and
that I can protect you."

"Nerys." Deanna let her own lips brush over Kira's as she spoke. "And
you are probably the only person alive whom I wouldn't mind letting
protect me...if either of us had the leisure."

"I know. I know...Deanna, you could have been a Vedek."

"I look awful in a snood."

"A *snood*? You--" Kira grinned as Deanna ducked, and fetched the
counselor a smart whap over the head with her broad-brimmed hat.

Deanna defended herself, rolling away, then got to her feet and went
to the room's one window, which was glazed with a sun-discolored,
dust-hazed transparency. It did open; she had to work the grit-choked
catch with both hands. The two panels swung out and away, caught by
the wind, banging into the side of the building proper.

This construction was near the edge of what the inhabitants had been
calling "town". The place had no name of its own, usually being
referred to by some variation of "the town at Remaith Shipyard." The
barrenness of the area had been noted with satisfaction by the
Cardassians--they also liked the heat--and a shipyard and air-space
port for smaller civilian and military ships had been quickly
constructed. Haphazard at first, it grew slowly over the stretch of
most of the Occupation. It had remained up and functioning right to
the end of the withdrawal, when the workers and officers left to run
it had finally boarded one of the remaining troopships and taken their
leave. Because of this, equipment, buildings, tools, and ships had
been left behind.

Eventually, a route was established across the hardpan, and salvage
operations undertaken; however, there was never an official endeavor
made in that direction by Provisional, since too many Bajorans were
already seeing legitimate, gainful work as a result of the place being
left to the private sector.

Ansar had been telling the truth when he said the very choicest
items--at least those that had a hope of being removed and transported
by a few individuals--had already been salvaged and sold; but there
was far too much still here for opportunity to be completely gone for
some years. Eventually, the single and small-group hunters would be
gone, and larger concerns would take over to turn what was too large
or complex for a few people to handle into profit, but that was still
in the future.

Deanna looked out over the deserted yard, parts of which--landing
fields, hangars, ranks of half-gutted ships dwindling with perspective
and glare, towers and lower buildings--stretched in dusty disrepair
halfway to the horizon.

Nerys came up next to her, looking past her at the scene. "Almost
looks lonely."

"No." Deanna spoke softly, her hand shading her eyes. "There hasn't
been anyone there to be lonely for a long time. But there was once."
Her deep voice grew distant, her accent rendering her words a slow
stream of imagery. "Workers, and young officers...many women, I don't
know why...those who stayed to run things as ship after ship launched
outside their windows, troop after troop beaming to the great ships in
orbit...loading of equipment... transports full of children, their
parents sent them ahead, to make certain they were away
safely...station after comm station falling silent in the
communications relays...they wondered, would they be on the next
transport, or the next...the Bajoran workers and servants all gone,
for days, weeks..."

Kira was watching Deanna now. She spoke softly, her lips close to
Deanna's ear. "You can see it all, can't you."

Deanna was quiet a moment, then lowered her hand, blinking. "No. I can
see some of it. The rest I just...know."

"Mm. Be sure to let me know if you have any more sudden insights. We
don't know what might be important."

"Don't rely on it, Nerys."

"I'm not. But it'd be silly not to take advantage of a windfall."

---

The kitchen, as Tuath had called it, consisted of a long counter along
one side of the room, a tub with a heating element in it for cooking
and washing both, a large oven and a small one, and five angular
tables that had started their careers in the port somewhere, probably
in a refectory. Norres handed out cups of water with each tray of
dried and fresh food; standing in the line before her was a young boy
whose responsibility it was to take payment before the food changed
hands.

When Nerys handed him a slip of latinum, he froze, eyeing her
suspiciously, then subjected the slip to a brief but thorough
inspection, turning his back to her and the rest of the line as he did
so. When he turned back, he'd already stowed the slip in the pouch on
his belt. He grabbed Nerys's arm and tugged her down where he could
stretch up on tiptoe and speak in her ear. "Keep it out of sight."

Nerys nodded, though she'd already drawn that conclusion herself; most
people were paying in bits of metal, some of which still held the
shape of circuitry. The boy had quickly looked each over before waving
the potential diner onward. Kira didn't see him reject any of the
offerings, but she also didn't see anything offered that didn't look
genuine.

"Guess they do respect her," she whispered to Deanna, who just nodded
slightly. "We've got someone else joining us," she said to the boy.
"Tuath. I said I'd buy her dinner."

He considered briefly. "It'll cover hers too," he said. "This time."

"Thanks." They proceeded up to the table where Norres was filling
trays, obtained three--Norres shot the boy a look; he nodded at her,
and she filled another plastic cup with water to set on the third
tray, then waved them on.

They sat down, Kira setting the third tray next to hers; Deanna sat
close on her other side. She smiled suddenly, and picked something up
off her tray; she held it out to Nerys, who recognized it as a slice
of dried moba. She smiled back at Deanna and opened her mouth to let
the counselor pop the morsel in.

There was a presence over her shoulder. "Aren't you two cute."

"Tuath," Kira said levelly. "Sit down. Dig in."

Tuath swung a leg over the bench and picked up the spoon/fork. "What
kind of salvage you two looking for? Have you got a buyer of your
own?"

Kira considered. "No. No, we...didn't know all that much about it when
we came out here."

"Then why did you come?"

"Like I said. We needed a place to lie low and make some money to get
offworld."

"Could've got passage at the station. It would have been easier."

"No it wouldn't, under the circumstances. The station was way too hot.
The only stowage we could get was on a little merchant ship headed for
Solan province; the owner dropped us in Remaith capital because I did
her a favor once. We were hiding in an old processing center, and
maintenance nearly found us a couple of times--we were there any
longer and security would have found us with internal scans."

"I've been told it's not easy to get around the shapeshifter."

"It's not. I can tell you that for sure."

"How'd you know about the shipyard?"

"We met a man on the station who had a Buried sister who'd lived here.
He told us about it. Said he knew that the people here--" she raised
her clear green gaze to Tuath's narrow grey one. "--wouldn't ask too
many questions."

"This man have a name?"

"Not one I can give you."

"Mm." Tuath had a swallow of water. "Sorry if I'm crowding you; but if
I know a few things, maybe I can help you to get what you need to get
where you want to be."

"It's all right, I suppose. You don't seem all that nosy in general.
What'll get us the most return for our time and sweat?"

"Almost anything that still works will get you pay. Computer
components particularly; a lot of what's here is obsolete now to the
Cardassians, but there are still people who'll pay for a look at the
technology. And of course there's always rattletrap shipmasters who
need to make repairs on the cheap. Other equipment too, but especially
anything that can be integrated into an existing system. Sometimes we
sell some of the bigger pieces of shipyard equipment, tools,
replacement stock. Next would be nonfunctioning but mostly intact
equipment, stuff that could be repaired. After that, it's mostly worth
what it's made of. Gold moves. Palladium, polonium. Diberydiide. You
know anything about Cardassian technology?"

"Some. Most of what I used in the resistance was Cardassian."

Tuath half-smiled. "Let the enemy supply your weapons."

"One of the first rules. Were you ever in the resistance proper?"

"Didn't have much of a chance to be." Tuath returned her gaze to her
food. "Sun's getting over, and a couple of the moons'll be up. If we
can see well enough, and you think you'll remember what things look
like once it's light again, I can show you what's spoken for and
what's still open; more comfortable in the cold than in the heat."

"I was a good enough night scout."

---

Deanna was walking hard by Nerys, just a little behind her and to the
side, with her bare arms wrapped around her middle. She was looking
around avidly in the twilight, though; Kira wondered that she didn't
either step on the other woman's heels or trip on her hem.

Tuath said "It's a long walk. Come on; the thoroughfare's the fastest
way to get where we're going." She started off.

The broad central road was littered now with debris and ruin large and
small, but it still provided more than ample room for people on foot
to make their way. It curved slowly around after about a mile, as
they'd been able to see from their third-floor room; even that much
height was adequate, in terrain this flat, to see most of the port,
though without much detail in the heat haze.

That haze was gone now, and the evening air was getting downright
bracing. Kira was all right, but she hoped Deanna would be too, in the
cold of the desert night.

"Everything you see around you is a spoken-for site," Tuath was
saying. "At first, when this place started being a concern, you could
claim whatever you wanted. Now you can only claim what you can
work--as much as you want at first, but if time goes on and you
haven't touched half a square kilometer of it, you'd better be ready
to kick people off it every couple of days. Mostly you should only try
to claim what's likely to be sellable. Not that you don't get the
occasional nasty surprise, like claiming a whole command center and
finding out it's been completely gutted." She glanced over her
shoulder at them, paused, and pulled her loose brown jacket off.
Underneath it she wore only a light sleeveless shirt, but the cold
didn't seem to make much of an impression on her. She went around Kira
and held the jacket up to Deanna.

Deanna and Kira paused; Deanna glanced up quickly at Tuath, then back
down at the pavement; she turned her shoulders slightly and Tuath laid
the jacket across them. Clasping it around her at the neck with one
hand, Deanna looked back up at the young woman from beneath a tousle
of dark reddish curls, and smiled, before looking away.

Kira also smiled. "I think she likes you."

Tuath acquired a pinched expression that Kira realized had probably
been a smile before it actually reached her face. "I like her, too."
She turned back to the moonlit ruinscape and resumed walking, her
boots raising small puffs of dust visible, at the moment, only to
Deanna.

"How far to the unclaimed areas?"

"About fifteen minutes walk until we have to leave the thoroughfare.
Friendly warning; there's going to be work involved in salvaging the
sites that are left."

"Stuff's that scarce?"

"No, just hard to handle. There's a lot of heavy equipment and
vehicles no one's been able to do anything with so far; I don't expect
you'll have much better luck, but I can show you what the best bets
are."

---

"Keevan, this is stupid. We've got no reason."

Deanna's head came up out of the tub, hair plastering to her
shoulders, chest and back. Then she realized she hadn't heard the
words with her ears and ducked again, the better to hear with her
empathic senses what the person she could sense was hearing. A
split-second analysis revealed what she'd remarked on; the voice had
not said--and did not mean--"We have no right" but, very specifically,
"no reason".

It was Tuath, and she was agitated; no wonder Deanna could perceive so
clearly. She was upstairs, almost right overhead...where Deanna and
Nerys's room was.

"Well I think we do," Tuath was hearing Keevan, the younger man who
had met them with Ansar and Tuath, say. "Your mouth. Why'd you have to
tell them there were Buried here nearly first thing?"

"I trust them. It's something you should try on occasion, Keev."

"When I do...what the hell kind of lock is this? When I do, it'll be
with my own neck, not dozens of other people's."

"That's a barrel key lock, you idiot. The only way through it is pick
it manually with a filing or something, or cut it. Think they'll
notice?"

"Tuath, you're in my light."

"Luma already knew there were Buried here, Keevan."

"And you confirmed it for her right off."

Well, Deanna reflected, floating calmly, someone had not taken kindly
to Kira's early-in-the-acquaintance use of the word "Buried", and even
less kindly to Tuath's startling forthrightness about it. She wondered
if Ansar knew about their exchanges; it was unlikely, or Tuath and
Keevan would not be up there in such obvious surruptition. If Keevan
had gone to Ansar, Deanna thought an up-front inquiry as to their
motivational interest in the group would be more likely. These people
were not shining stars of their culture, they were not especially
friendly, and they did not want their profit margins cut by newcomers
past a certain point--but Deanna was sure that most of the people she
had sensed were reasonably honest.

Including Keevan. He was young, impatient, hotheaded and
suspicious--but he thought he had legitimate reason to be suspicious
in this case, and was sure what he was doing was justified. He did not
intend theft; he simply wanted to search for any evidence that the
town might have been infiltrated by someone with dubious intentions
toward any of its inhabitants.

He was, however, not at all certain that Ansar Froule would agree with
him. And Tuath was still young enough to consider reporting Keevan's
decided course of action to Ansar "ratting". Besides, she was
wondering at her own temerity in discussing so much with Kira so soon,
and thought it was possible Keevan was right. Deanna sensed Tuath
didn't like the idea...

Hm. Good thing Nerys wasn't here. Probably the best thing to do would
be stay in the tub while Keevan conducted his search of their
belongings; there was, as per standard policy, nothing whatsoever
amongst them that could give Kira and Deanna away. Let him satisfy
himself of that, at least.

Tuning out the half-dozen or so other inhabitants of the house, she
monitored Tuath and Keevan's progress, listening for Kira as well; if
she detected Nerys returning, she could probably scuttle out of the
tub room and warn her, defuse her irritation. And it would be only
irritation; Kira could be testy, but she wouldn't fly into a real rage
over something like this, provided Deanna got a chance to explain
things to her first.

Ah, Tuath was getting even more impatient...and Keevan was getting
tense...and the door to their room was shut with a bonk that brought
hissing admonitions to be QUIET from both young throats. Cue.

Deanna jumped from the high-sided metal tub, wrapped on a towel that
barely covered even her slight form, and, without further ado, darted
dripping and barefoot into the dusty corridor.

She skittered down the short length that separated the tub room from
the stairwell and ran up, turned around the banister endpost and
started down the hall for their room, a bright smile on her face. As
per what her ears had told her, Tuath and Keevan were now out,
shifting impatiently from foot to foot as Keevan relocked the door.

They turned to face her and froze.

Deanna's smile slid abruptly from her face. Her eyes became huge. She
took a tremulous step back, then another, her gaze flicking back and
forth between them.

"Oh Prophets--" Tuath whispered.

"Is that--what was her name--"

"It's Luma Meisaal, you idiot! You saw her this morning."

"It's hard to tell, she's dripping wet--"

"I can see that! The tub room's right downstairs and she probably
heard us and thought it was her wife come back, damn it, can't you see
she's scared? Meisaal--" Tuath raised her voice just slightly, then
managed to bring a genuine smile to her face, the first one Deanna had
seen there. She stopped backing, still quivering a bit, looking
unsure.

"Remember me? Tuath. I took you and Rahl to look at the port a while
ago."

Deanna peered at Tuath with an expression that had usually managed,
when she was a child, to get her a second and occasionally third
cookie.

Tuath managed another smile. "Right, it's me! Keevan, get lost," she
snapped under her breath to the side, "she's almost naked and she
doesn't know you."

"She's between us and the stairs."

"I'll try to fix that. Meisaal, I'm going to come over there--it's all
right, you don't have to run," she added hastily as Deanna registered
alarm at the words. "Just let me take you over out of the way a little
and Keevan will go and leave us alone. That's right...it's
okay...here." She had been approaching the tightly-strung Deanna and
now touched her hand. "Just up the hall a little...that's right, this
way...all right, Keev, get scarce."

"What are you going to tell her wi--"

"Just go, all right?! She'll bolt in a second."

Keevan got scarce. "I'm sorry, Meisaal," he said softly on his way by,
then vanished down the stairs.

Tuath sighed, then said quietly to Deanna "He's okay, really," some of
her normal, more withdrawn demeanor returning, though her expression
remained neutral, probably as pleasant as she could manage for longer
than a moment or two. "He just...doesn't quite know what it can be
like for...for some of us."

Deanna risked a small nod, then ducked her head shyly.

Tuath said softly "We'd better get you in your room. If your wife
comes back and you're standing out here like this I'll catch hell."

Tuath brought Deanna in, then checked the tub room for any belongings
she might have left there. She told Deanna she'd drained the water and
rinsed the tub, then asked her if there was anything she preferred to
sleep in. She pawed around in the clothes pack until she found a
single white cotton nightgown, which Deanna took hurriedly and pulled
on; then she started rubbing her hair vigorously with her towel.

"Would you like me to do that?"

Deanna peered out of the towel, considering Tuath a moment, then
released her hold on her hair, letting it fall in thick damp ropes of
deepest black-red curl, to hold the towel out to Tuath.

Without further comment, Tuath took the towel, sat down behind Deanna
on the bedroll and began squeezing the remaining water out of a
handful of hair at a time, careful not to pull Deanna's scalp. She
said nothing further, and of course neither did Deanna.

"Aren't you two cute." Kira shut the door behind her, gazing squarely
at Tuath.

Tuath looked up, deadpan. "Luma."

"Tuath. Mind telling me what you're doing here?"

"Drying Meisaal's hair."

"She can do that herself."

"I asked if she wanted help. Keevan and I upset her earlier; thought
I'd try to make up for it."

"Upset her how?" Kira advanced into the room with slow menace,
stopping less than a pace away from Tuath, where the girl sat between
Kira and Deanna.

"She heard us in your room, and I think she thought it was you. She
came up from the tub room, and it wasn't, and it scared her, and I got
rid of Keevan and brought her in."

"And you and Keevan were...?" Kira said, motionless, her voice
dangerously quiet. Deanna was sensing some genuine threat there, but
not enough to worry about.

"Keevan thought I said too much too soon. I thought maybe he was
right. We came to see if you had militia gear or anything like that in
your packs."

"I never asked you to shoot your mouth off."

"That's right, you didn't." Tuath stood up. "I'll admit it was my
oversight, but Keevan might have insisted anyway; you knew there were
Buried here, from what you said, before you left the station. You can
see how we're worried, there being people there who know that."

"All right, then. You've made your sneak check, and scared my wife, so
unless you have other business here...?"

"I'm sorry about your wife. So's Keevan. That much we'll both
apologize for." She handed the towel to Deanna, barely smiled at her,
then turned and walked past the still-immobile Kira and out the door.

It shut, and they heard her footsteps recede down the hall. One of the
other residents started coming up the stairs, singing something
quietly under his breath.

"I take it you set at least part of that up?" Kira sank down onto the
bedroll next to Deanna, taking the towel and beginning to blot at her
hair.

"Part of it. They took it on themselves to investigate our
things--Keevan's idea, but Tuath was telling the truth; she was
concerned too, though I think more concerned at her own behavior. She
doesn't warm to people easily--"

"Sort of goes without saying. She's Buried. There are few more
desperate characters out there."

"I know. But she does like us, especially me; I do remind her a little
of someone she once knew, and she feels a great impulse to care for
and shield anyone who was hurt in their soul during the Occupation.
She's like you, Nerys; she'd make a good mother. "

"So let her join a lay order and do good works, not swear to
murder-suicide."

"You like her very much."

"Yeah, I do, I guess. Must be why I'm so angry."

"In any case, I did play out the little scene she described. I thought
it couldn't hurt to ingratiate myself more with her, and also lend
more realism to our cover. Perhaps make that young man a little more
certain that he *had* made an error."

Kira grinned. "By coming up the stairs naked?"

"Almost. And in being so seeming more defenseless, and in being
startled, frightened. I thought it would make Tuath feel protective
toward me, and it did. The young man, Keevan, a little, too. He was,
at least, sorry for his actions."

"Deanna, I know you used to be more withdrawn, more hesitant to use
your abilities, all of them. You've told me about some of the moral
dilemmas you've been through, the ones about using your empathic
senses to gather information that you then gave to your Captain or the
other senior officers. And that was only chance-got information. This
time..."

"I am deliberately deceiving non-telepaths, using my empathy and my
counseling training to...how does Geordi put it...psych people out.
Using my diplomacy skills with counseling training, I'm used to;
though being an empath it did seem almost unfair at first."

She shifted, crossing her legs and handing Kira her hairbrush. "The
only way I can justify it to myself," she continued quietly as Kira
began brushing carefully, starting at the ends of Deanna's hair, "is
to remember that all those things--and even what we're doing now--are
a kind of healing. I am a medical professional; and to repair rifts
and breakages, damage and ill feeling, to create bridges of
understanding and maintain a flow of accurate communication between
parties--it isn't difficult to see that as healing. I cannot let
myself, of course, imagine that I am all-knowing and can divine what
is best for everyone; but that is harder a trap to fall into when
you're an empath."

"Empath or no, you'd never fall into that. You're too good at really
seeing everyone's side, not just giving it lip service. That's your
genius, I think. To *see* all that at once, and still maintain your
own perspective."

Deanna smiled. "Thank you. That's very flattering, especially coming
from you. But you're right; in this, there is deception. Using the
knowledge that I gain about people through my empathic senses and
through my training and experience, then using it in ways that they
would not want it used, no matter my intentions...is hard, sometimes,
to justify. But only emotionally; logically, it is no different than
what I've always done in that regard. And...perhaps such scruples are,
at least in part, simply a way to justify avoidance of the
responsibility. A job needs to be done, and of those with opportunity
to do it there is no question that I am best qualified. And the
members of the Buried--at least, those who truly understand what it
means to be so, rather than being comforted by the moral absolutism of
the concept--are not well. They need help, and even if, at the end, I
am not involved in providing them that help--before anyone else can,
what *I* can do must be done."

Kira sighed, pausing in her brushing to trace Deanna's ear with a
fingertip. "Like I said. It must be awfully damn tiring to be you."

Deanna grimaced comically. "And I imagine it must be so to be you.
You're like a hurricane. Your energy is almost unplumbable.
You...remind me of someone I used to know, in that respect. You
remember me telling you about Tasha in a letter not long after...after
the upper pylon?"

"Your security officer. Who died saving you."

"Yes. But you're different in...well. Perhaps it was only because I
knew her so well. I would never have used the word 'tough' to describe
Tash despite how she may have appeared to others. You, on the other
hand..."

"Nails."

"Duridium ones."

"Flatterer."

Deanna giggled with her, then reached back and took the brush. "I'll
finish it; you might want to have a wash before we lie down. Norres
has made an innovation since Tuath lived here--the tub has its own
vaporator, and it doesn't take long to fill it at night. There's a
shower head over the tub, too, but it doesn't run very quickly. How do
things look, by the way? Is there enough here to keep us in a cover
story?"

"Oh, yeah. I've got a couple of ideas...I'm going to need some help,
at least at first."

"Finally--" Deanna frowned at an unexpected tangle. "I'll get to use
some of what I learned in those engineering extension courses."

Kira, on her way out, stopped again, her hand falling off the
doorknob. "Do all you Starfleet Medical types take engineering
extension courses?"

"Not all of us, I'd imagine. Why?"

"Nothing."

---

"How's it coming?!"

"Meisaal?" Kira hollered over the wind. If Deanna was yelling, there
probably wasn't anyone around, but better safe than sorry. She climbed
out of the engine compartment she'd been rooting around in and started
carefully closing covers. It had decided to truly blast today, and
while this made the perceived temperature somewhat cooler, it was also
reminiscent of being in a convection oven, or a rock polisher, or a
rock polisher in a convection oven.

She climbed down to where Deanna stood at the foot of the huge
machine; the Counselor was in the long sleeveless tunic she'd been
wearing earlier, belted now lest it fill with wind like a great sail.
Kira beckoned, and Deanna followed her through the noise, sand, light
and wind to the building Kira had adopted as a base of operations.

The door shut behind them, closing out the meteorological mayhem and
bringing about a deafening silence. "Damn." Nerys pulled down the
scarf that was covering her face. "You came all this way back out
through *that*? What's happened? Is something wrong?"

"It's past lunchtime," Deanna explained, holding up a sealed container
with one hand while pulling off the scarf wrapped around her head,
hair and most of her face with the other. Palomino-colored desert
rained from the limp material onto the dark Cardassian decor.

Kira snatched the container and popped the lid; Deanna produced a
fork/spoon from her pocket. Kira accepted it, examined it for
particulate landscape, wiped it briefly on her dust-laden pants and
stuck it into the food. "What did you do, come here with your eyes
closed?"

"Um, yes, actually, for part of the walk. I just kept the light behind
me; if I strayed far from the thoroughfare, a building's shadow
alerted me."

"Still, with everything blowing out there--" Kira stopped, realizing
that the reddening patches and occasional single deep scratches on
Deanna's arms weren't a trick of the gloom. "Will you PLEASE wear your
jacket? Look at what you've done to yourself!"

"It does sting a bit," Deanna admitted. "Oh, well; it will lend body
to the assumption that I don't know how to take care of myself in this
sort of environment."

"Well I'm supposed to know how, and I do. Where...ah." She spotted a
tarp piled with the supplies over nearer the center of the room; she
went and pulled it free, then brought it to Deanna. "Here. You'll need
that on the walk back." She returned to the console she'd been sitting
at, pulling her goggles off. They had sand in them. She tapped them
halfheartedly on the console's top and set them down, reapplying
herself to her lunch. "Now that you're abraded and sunscorched maybe
you'll cover up. We'll find you some kind of salve; there's sure to be
some around town, there must be quite a demand for it here. Tuath
would help us find some, for you. Why have you been wandering around
bare-armed, anyway?"

"I'm not sure...I suppose it lends verisimilitude to my persona."

"You mean it's in character?"

"Yes. It makes me seem...more someone who needs care."

"You could have saved yourself a nasty trip; I'm not getting much
done. Shielding everything from the airborne geography out there is
impossible; I'm going to have to leave it all under cover until this
blow is over. It should calm down sometime around sunset. How's it
going back in the world of intrigue?"

"When one doesn't speak, people do tend to regard one as not really
there, or at least not someone one needs to guard one's speech from;
and if I don't lift my eyes...well. I'm practically invisible."

"Never that. Just completely unthreatening."

"I've found three other members of the Buried besides Tuath. I've also
found four more people I extrapolate to be Buried--to make a long
story short--from the emotions I sensed from them when certain topics
were mentioned."

"Between your empathy, training and native sneakiness, and Odo's
shapeshifting, the two of you could probably infiltrate a stump."

"I have a job. And there are already Betazoids in Starfleet
intelligence proper."

Deanna held Nerys's hand for guidance on the walk back to avoid eyes
full of grit, but Nerys stopped them halfway anyway to pull Deanna's
protective tarp up over her head to shield her face more; between
wind, sweat and sand, the scarf Deanna'd been using for that purpose
had largely given up the ghost.

Town was, for this place, populous; the minor windstorm had shelved
the salvaging operations of any of the residents not currently working
sites that were sheltered, or mostly so. As they came in, Deanna
nodded unobtrusively toward several people, squeezing Nerys's hand and
murmuring the occasional soft clarification to indicate the members of
the Buried she'd identified earlier.

"I really don't get this," Kira grumbled as they removed and shook out
as much clothing as they could in the lee of their own building, "look
around this land any clear day and all you see is white hardpan; get a
good blow going, and suddenly it's like...like--"

"The Sahara," Deanna supplied, then elaborated at Kira's glance "A
large desert on Earth. Very sandy."

"I think," Nerys muttered as they stepped inside, having finally
removed their boots and dumped their stores of fine gravel out as
thoroughly as possible, "that the tub's likely going to be busy all
day in this, but I can get a big bucket of hot water from the kitchen
and drag it up to our room. We can at least get your hair clean."

"All right, but we scrub the rest of ourselves first. Once my hair
encounters the water..."

"It'll be soup, right. You go ahead up--here, could you take my stuff
too? Thanks..."

When Kira started up the stairs with the water bucket--although only
water from the main vaporator was free, she'd obtained a bucketful
gratis in return for knocking the wind debris out of a fan in the
kitchen vaporator so it could draw properly--she was halted at the
second landing by the sight of Deanna, still with one arm wrapped
around the bundle of their boots and outer clothes, standing barefoot
in some sort of silent communion with a dark-skinned, fair-haired
woman. The two were simply considering each other, looking mostly into
each other's eyes; Deanna's expression was quietly warm and mildly
curious, the other woman's somewhat abashed, also curious, and oddly
determined. She was wearing a tunic much like Deanna's, though
sunbleached and not as long, with cap sleeves. Kira stopped, lowering
the bucket to a more comfortable position, and waited.

Eventually the unknown woman backed up a step, withdrew a small object
from her deep pocket, and set it on top of Deanna's bundle; then she
ducked her head and turned, heading down the stairs past Nerys without
acknowledging her, save to shy to one side a little.

Looking after the woman, Nerys came up the stairs to the landing
Deanna was on. "What was that all about?" she whispered.

Deanna gazed sadly down the stairwell toward where the woman had
vanished. "That," she whispered back, "was me. She is...one like
Meisaal. Genuinely so."

Kira didn't say anything; eventually Deanna turned and preceded her up
the stairs.

As the door closed behind them and they immediately started yanking
the rest of their things off, Kira said "What did she give you?"

"Ahm..." Deanna fished in the pile of clothing she'd set down and came
up with a small metal box that proved to contain some sort of
ointment. "I suppose it's for my arms. There's not much left, but it
should help for a while."

"Her skin did look a lot tougher than yours--at least, by now, if you
know what I mean. Still, that was nice of her."

"Yes...some people who have suffered a great deal become inured to the
sight of other's suffering. Some people are taken in the precise
opposite fashion; they can't bear to see anyone hurting."

"I think you just described the difference between you and me."

"You don't enjoy seeing pain any more than I do, and I haven't
suffered nearly as much as you have. No, you first; you were more
smartly dressed. I'm all over dirt."

They'd gotten Kira relatively scut-free and Deanna nearly so when
there was a knock at the door. They looked at each other, and Kira
called "Hold on," and pulled on her shirt and some clean underwear,
then draped Deanna loosely in the tarp, clean side in, before going to
the door. "Who's there?"

"Tuath."

Kira opened the door. "Hi. We're just cleaning up a little."

"That's why *I'm* here, actually, I managed to get a few minutes in
the tub. Had to buy them from someone. How's--oops. I was afraid of
that."

Deanna was dunking her head in the bucket, her arms up out of the tarp
to slosh the mass of her hair vigorously around in the water. "Yeah,"
Kira sighed in unfeigned sympathy. "I should have thought of it.
Meisaal never--ever--complains."

"Don't suppose she would, most people like her don't."

"Another woman who doesn't seem to talk either stopped her on the
stairs and gave her a little box of salve. Taller than Meisaal, dark
skin, light fluffy hair?"

"You met Trine. She wasn't at Gallitep, but she might as well have
been. I just wanted to see if Meisaal was all right. A few people saw
her heading out to the free ends of the port by herself. Through the
wind."

"She hates it when I don't eat; she came to meet me and give me lunch,
but we had to call it for the day anyway. We'll be all right."

Tuath nodded and moved away silently; Kira shut the door and returned
to Deanna to help her get the spots she couldn't reach effectively.
"You've made a real impression on that girl."

"She's a goodhearted young woman, despite her affiliations. Check
behind my ears. My fingers are so raw I can't tell if I've got all the
sand."

"Let me see your hands...you idiot. You're right, it's in character,
but Prophets, don't take it so far next time."

"I have no such intention. Where'd that salve go?"

"Right here. Let me...so, how do you think we're doing schedule-wise?"

"It's a bit early to tell, Nerys, we've only been here a few days. We
may not find an informational motherlode; but anything we gather is
knowledge you and the Provisional Government didn't have before."

"You know me, though. I don't feel like I've accomplished something at
the end of the day unless there's been a firefight or a coup or a
conspiracy revealed."

Deanna cackled. "Be careful. You may yet wind up with an enormous
sense of job satisfaction."

"Premonition?"

"Judgment call. Oh, there's going to be a group of traders in town
tonight or tomorrow. They'd have been here today, but they were
delayed by the wind. Apparently the blowing sand gets into the wheel
mechanisms of their vehicles."

"Who are they?"

"The man that I was listening to tell Norres said that they were
Bajoran dealers in artwork and curios."

"Hm. There'll be curios; almost anything qualifies for that kind of
collector. Or trophy seeker. A lot of people don't mind paying for
something they can say later is a souvenir of a fight or a raid."

"Some people are genuinely interested in the designs and appearance of
an alien culture's things."

"Bajorans aren't, not about Cardassians. Although there are people who
like to have something besides a scroll to throw on the fire at the
Gratitude festival."

"Hm. Well, Peldor Joy."

"You too."

---

"Rahl!"

"Meisaal? Did you just yell?" Kira stood up, dropping a tool, and
glanced rapidly around in the failing light. The two larger moons were
nearly down, a smaller one just risen.

"Come see this!"

"Keep talking! Where were you last time you could see me?" Kira
started clambering down from her perch.

"Go to the side road just east of you and cut off the main track!
There's a big pile of fuselage casings stacked against the side of the
small building with the big windows on your right..."

"Got you. Keep going."

When she located the counselor, she found herself in a fairly intact
building that might have been detectable in daylight, but now she knew
she'd never have found the entrance without Deanna's voice guiding
her. Large portions of it seemed to be underground.

*Very* large portions. She realized that across the room, which
appeared to be laid out more like a workroom with stations than an
office or anything else, a door let into a passage from which a light
was shining.

"Meisaal?" Kira crossed the room and peered around the sill of the
open door. The passage it let into went off in two directions and was
very broad; the light was coming from the right. She headed down that
way. Off in the distance--distance? She was sure she was at least a
short way underground by now--she could see Deanna's small figure,
haloed softly by the light she was carrying, gazing around her at a
vast open area--'A hangar,' Kira thought.

"What do you think?" Deanna called over to her, her voice rolling
echoingly in the metallic space.

"I think it's awfully clean. And is the air fresh?"

"The climate control is still working. If this is a repair bay--one
they could launch small ships from, I would guess--those systems are
probably very hard to damage."

"I think you're right; they didn't handle large ships here, except to
dismantle for systems; but this would have been--" she switched her
own light on again and shone it around. The ceiling was not that high
overhead, and she immediately dropped her light to examine the floor.
"Launch platforms. The ceiling pulled back and what we're standing on
could be raised and lowered, take things down below us for extensive
repair, then loaded back on the platform and sent on up."

"Like the runabout pads on your station."

"More general-purpose, but yeah, like that. You'd think someone would
have found this before now; there's obviously functioning equipment
here, though I'd have to look around a while to find it, myself."

"It's not that unlikely it would still be intact. The area we chose to
salvage is farther out than any of the others; it's possible no one's
been close enough to this place to find it, or if they were, bypassed
it in favor of less effortful rewards."

"Also Bajorans don't see in the dark as well as you."

"What's that?" Deanna held her lamp higher, then seemed to spot
something off in the dimness; she walked across the dark, segmented
flooring, steps echoing, until she reached the wall opposite the way
Kira had come in. As her light approached the wall, Kira saw what she
was looking at and called "Probably that's the platform control
console and the ground launch systems. Environmental and like that
would be back in that workroom I came through."

Deanna examined things for a bit, then said "Rahl...I think someone's
been using this place."

Kira's brow furrowed. "For what?"

"I don't know. Living quarters, perhaps."

"Have you seen signs of habitation?"

"Not exactly..."

"Do you 'just know'?"

"No. This is a suspicion, not a certainty...hm." Deanna wandered the
perimeter of the bay with her light; as she illuminated the sections
of space she passed, Kira was forced to agree that the place was
suspiciously clean and in repair, but it did look, in the light,
largely stripped.

Deanna finally came back to Kira, taking her hand as she had a final
look around. "I suppose it's not really important--at least not
yet..."

Nerys squeezed Deanna's hand and kissed her briefly. "We'd better get
our things together and get back to town. You have more snooping to
do."

"If we could finish that cargo truck tonight..."

"...it'd save us having to come out here and play salvage operations
for at least a while, right. Okay, let's take another look at it. Do
you think you can do anything with those antigravs?" They turned to
start back out of the building.

"I believe they're intact. The first thing I'd try is the power
lines."

"Then we're going to have to hunt up a diberydium core the right size
and decay frequency."

"I found one that might work, in a storage locker in the control tower
I was up earlier. I suppose it was missed because it wasn't in
maintenance..."

---

"Meisaal? Hi."

Deanna looked up from her tray. Tuath was sitting down across from
her. Deanna picked up a slice of dried fruit and offered it to her.

Tuath hesitated a moment, then almost-smiled. "That your way of saying
hello? Thanks." She took the small item and chewed it into oblivion.
"I just wanted to tell you that-- since your wife says you two're
trying to refit a cargo truck--Froule wanted to know if Luma'd be
interested in running freight for some of the other hounds. He's
pretty sure you won't be able to get it working, at least not on the
hardpan, but if you did, and Luma was interested--we know you two are
looking to get offworld, but he thought he'd make the offer. You'd get
a percentage of his regular take. Can you tell her that for me when
you see her?"

Deanna pressed her lips together and looked at the floor with a slight
nod.

"Thanks. Oh, and..." she dropped her voice and leaned a bit closer to
Deanna. "The Arilavah monastery is sending some people out with
tomorrow's trade caravan. They like to come out here and give us the
opportunity to reclaim our lost faith and like that. The reason I'm
telling you is that Vedek Airmid is going to be with them, and she's
been on the old processing station until recently. She might recognize
you. I don't know if that's a problem for you or not, but..."

Deanna smiled at her, then reached over and touched the girl's arm,
squeezing her wrist very briefly. Then she returned her attention to
her food. Rather, that was what it looked like; she was actually
refocusing her thoughts on her telepathic eavesdropping--nothing
specific, just surface feelings, chatter, but it had got her some
valuable information so far, when correctly assembled with
otherwise-gathered bits and pieces.

Tuath had risen and headed for the door; Deanna was busy listening,
and didn't hear the verbal exchange at once--she heard Tuath's sudden
nonverbal alarm like a red flare in her ears (trying to explain that
sort of thing to non-telepaths was always problematic) and jerked
upright in her seat, looking over her shoulder toward the door. Tuath
was evidently just outside it.

"Tuath, relax--we just want to talk to her," came a woman's voice, and
Deanna realized Tuath had already said something, which Deanna'd
missed.

"I know what you want," Tuath was saying in a voice so low Deanna was
fairly sure she was the only one who could hear, other than whoever it
was Tuath was speaking to. "Haven't you heard? She doesn't speak."

"I'm not going to hurt her, you know that. We just want to offer her
the opportunity to make a lot more money than she'll be able to make
junking. She needs money, right? That's why she's here."

"I don't know who you've been talking to, but her wife would have cut
Keevan's throat for making the same suggestion you're about to make."

"I'm not here to talk to her wife. I won't hurt her, Tuath, I won't
even scare her. You have no right to get in my way--I haven't done
anything against the rules, and I don't plan to. You start throwing
your weight around too much and Ansar's going to lose his authority
when people hear about what his deputies are up to."

Tuath was silent; the flare was still burning. Deanna turned back to
her food, pretending obliviousness to the interchange just outside the
door.

She sensed Tuath coming back into the room. Then two people came
around the table to her side and someone touched her shoulder. She
flinched away, looking up, eyes wide.

A tall middle-aged Bajoran woman, who appeared still physically
strong, was standing there, flanked by an even taller young man; the
woman smiled, saying "Hello, there. My name is Felra. I'm told your
name is Luma. Luma Meisaal, I think it was?"

Deanna just stared up at her.

Apparently, this didn't go much against the woman's expectations.
Still smiling, she said "I know you don't like to talk; that's
perfectly all right. In fact, it *can* work in your favor."

Deanna continued to stare.

"I'm sure you know you're a very pretty young woman," Felra continued.
"Why, you're at least as pretty as I was, in my day. I was very
popular when I was your age..."

"With the spoonheads," Tuath muttered. She was leaning against the
wall near the door, on Deanna's other side, her normally chilly gaze
now glacial.

Felra didn't even look at her. She continued blithely "I have a couple
of friends in town who've seen you, and they'd like to meet you. They
have job openings for hostesses--"

Tuath snorted. Felra continued to ignore her. "--and entertainers of
different kinds; the work can be as easy as you like--you decide just
what it is you like to do best. Some sorts of position pay more, of
course, but even just hostessing is much more lucrative than junking
is. There are places available that require only a few hours of work a
day--and you can hardly even call it work; you wear nice clothes,
spend time in large, pleasant surroundings--"

Tuath snorted again.

"--and there are plenty of positions where no one's at all interested
in anything you may have done previously--no one will ask awkward
questions, or report anything at all to the authorities--"

"You can just bet on that," Tuath muttered.

The young man, who hadn't been introduced, glared menacingly at Tuath;
Deanna sensed the young woman's utter lack of intimidation and had to
subdue a smirk.

Felra laid her hand on the young man's shoulder. "Relax, Piren," she
murmured, then turned back to Deanna. "If you'd like, we could go talk
to my friends, and they can tell you about what's available right now.
You wouldn't have to accept anything right away; but maybe if you
listened to what they have to offer you before your wife returns, you
could take her to meet them when she gets back."

Deanna blinked at her a couple of times, then turned back to her plate
to fish up the last bite or two.

"There's your answer," Tuath said.

"She probably doesn't understand," Felra muttered, and reached for
Deanna's wrist, the one holding the utensil, pulling the arm up a
little toward her. "Luma, just pay atte--"

Deanna's left hand flashed out and socked heelfirst into Felra's solar
plexus. As the taller woman's eyes bugged and she half-doubled over,
Deanna surged up, grabbed the back of Felra's head and banged her face
smartly into the table. She then shoved the staggered Felra backwards
and hopped over her own bench while Felra crashed into Piren, and the
two struck and rolled off the fortunately empty bench behind them.
Piren lunged up while Felra, curled half up, held her face; Deanna
went into a vicious-looking crouch, her hands curling into claws, her
teeth baring as she growled at him, brow lowered.

"Uh, Piren," Tuath said, "I'd say--not wanting to jump to conclusions
or anything--that she's not interested. If I were you I'd thank her
for her time and give her some space."

Piren glared, but turned and pulled Felra to her feet, and conducted
her from the room. As they were leaving, Tuath, who hadn't moved from
the wall, called after them "Be sure to tell Ansar I didn't interfere
in your business proposition!"

Deanna, who had maintained her posture as she observed the exit,
straightened as soon as they had started down the stairs. She could
sense that no one else in the broad room considered the interchange to
be any of their business--Norres had immediately become concerned, but
on her seeing things stop where they had, that worry was abating.

Tuath said "I wish more people would--Meisaal!"

Deanna had sunk back down on her bench, curling up, hiding under her
hair. Tuath strode over and sat next to her, putting an arm around
her. "It's all right. They're gone. They won't bother you again. If
they do, me and the other deputies have the right to do what you just
did. But they won't; they aren't stupid. They get too pushy and
they're out of here, and the net they drag through this place yields
too well for them to stretch it too far. It's all right...it's all
right..." though obviously ill at ease with the role of comforter, she
was doing the best she could, and Deanna rewarded her concern by
straightening up a little and wiping her eyes.

Kira walked in. "Tuath, did somebody just punch out that woman I saw
lea--"

Deanna leaped up and flung herself on Kira, who immediately took over
where Tuath had left off. "Meisaal, love, it's all right--what
happened? Was someone hurt? Were you scared?"

"The only one hurt was Felra," Tuath told her, "courtesy of your
wife."

"Meisaal?" Kira murmured into Deanna's hair, her brow drawing
uncertainly; then she looked at Tuath, patently for an explanation.

Tuath had a seat on the bench Deanna had been on. "Felra was one step
away from outright collaboration during the occupation--tame comfort
woman, then a Glin's pet. She got to moving pretty high in the social
life of the Cardie military on Bajor; some people think she ran
prisoner rechanneling. It's sure she knew how to keep a Bajoran staff
in line. Now she's...well, she's a high-tone procuress, since she
knows how that sort of business works, though she has to work outside
the--"

"A *what*?" Kira's face started to flush dangerously. "*What* did she
say to Meisaal?!"

"A bunch of the standard lies and distortions she lures pretty things
with. Meisaal wasn't buying a symbol of it, though. She pretty much
ignored Felra until the idiot grabbed her arm. Then she took her out.
For which I owe you both one; I've always wanted to see one of Felra's
marks do that."

Kira was still rocking and petting the huddling Deanna. "I'm taking
Meisaal up to our room. You do me a favor and tell that...panderer, if
you speak to her, that if I see any part of her for the rest of the
time we're here, she'll permanently lose whatever part it is I see.
Got it?"

Tuath actually smiled again. "Sure. And Meisaal, when you feel better,
remember to mention to Rahl what I told you, okay?"

Her face still in Kira's shoulder, Deanna nodded. Kira looked
quizzically at Tuath, but turned to walk Deanna up the stairs.

"You," she whispered into Deanna's ear as she unlocked and opened the
door of their room, are *shameless*."

As she closed the door, Deanna went and sank down on the bedroll,
hands over her mouth to muffle her giggles. "Can you think of another
way I could have avoided being conducted to a...placement service
*without* breaking my cover?"

"That man I saw leaving with Felra was pretty big, Deanna, and Felra
didn't look like a slouch."

"Oh, that didn't worry me. Worf is even harder, in Mok'Bara practice,
on the people who are close to him than he is on most of his students.
And he's bigger than either Felra or that young man. And believe
me--the sympathy in the room was with me. When Tuath gets done talking
about it, I'll bet neither of us are approached for any reason except
with the greatest respect. They'll probably think you taught me
everything I know."

"You've got that long tunic on, the kicks would have been tough to
bring off, and if it had gotten ugly you'd have needed them--"

"Haven't I demonstrated to your satisfaction that I know how to pull
my own hem up?"

Kira fell to her knees beside Deanna on the bedroll, sitting back on
her heels. She gazed at her a moment, then managed a smile. "Mmm...not
*quite* yet."

"Show me how, then." Deanna, grinning, slid her arms up around Kira's
neck.

"I *am* supposed to be comforting you..."

"Wait one moment--Tuath was there to tell me something. The traders in
curios and artwork I mentioned? Vedek Airmid and some others from
Arilavah monastery are coming in with them to offer spiritual light to
the misguided here."

"Oops. When?"

"Tomorrow, she said."

"We'd both better be out of here early. We look different enough from
the way we usually do to fool most people from a distance, but Airmid
will almost certainly know me if she gets a good look. Thanks,
Tuath...I wish we could come up with some way to do that more
substantially."

"I have an odd feeling we may get that opportunity," Deanna murmured
as she lay back on the bedroll, pulling Nerys with her.

---

Deanna took a scuttle and roll behind a large rubbish bin that stood
up against the side of the building she'd just been hiding behind the
corner of, as the group she'd been aurally and empathically
eavesdropping on started down the small side-street in her direction.
It wasn't been the most subtle tactic, but sometimes when she sensed
something occurring that seemed very important to her purpose, and
there was no obvious way to approach an individual or group
innocuously, she'd had to fall back on it. More than once, in the last
couple of days.

She winced slightly; the canvas pants that were tucked into her boots
had turned out to be a bit snug. She'd belted a hip-length tunic over
them with a mental note to speak to that tailor on the station. Now
she wiggled her hind end a little, trying to get them to stop cutting
her in tender spots due to her present uncompromising crouch.

The group moved past. Deanna sighed; what she'd been trying to learn
was the identity of someone who, from what she could gather, was a
fairly new member of the Buried, but a highly central one. This
person--the only visualizations Deanna could get were hazy, and seemed
inconsistent with Bajoran physiology--was apparently coming to the
salvager's town sometime in the very near future. Getting this
person's identity to Sisko and the Provisional Government Judicial
without letting anyone know that they had it would be greatly--

"Meisaal?" Deanna's head swiveled, and she saw Tuath standing in the
street at the other end of the alley, well within view of Deanna's
hiding place. "Meisaal!" Tuath jogged toward her and then skidded to a
halt, raising dust; she leaned down to Deanna. "Are you all right?"

Deanna nodded.

"What happened, did someone--sorry, never mind; let me take a look at
you. You feel okay?"

Deanna just considered her.

"Should I take you back to Norres's?"

Deanna shook her head.

"Sure? Okay then, I'll get on with rounds." She turned to head back
down the alley the way she'd come.

Deanna promptly followed, close on her heels.

Tuath stopped; so did Deanna, on a dime. When Tuath turned, Deanna
smiled up at her. "Meisaal?" the young woman said uncertainly.

Deanna slipped a hand into Tuath's.

"Are you sure you don't want me to take you back to--okay," Tuath
interrupted herself at Deanna's headshake. "Okay, you mean you want to
come with me?"

Deanna's smile widened brilliantly.

"I'm on rounds," Tuath said softly. "Looking for anything that looks
like trouble, listening to people's complaints. You wouldn't like
it..."

Deanna gazed expectantly up at her, clearly waiting for Tuath to get
to the point.

Tuath sighed. "I'm going to be talking to some people...who might not
like having you around for it. If they say you have to leave, you have
to leave. All right?"

Deanna nodded.

"Well, okay, I guess. Come on." Tuath turned and continued down the
alley, Deanna still holding her hand, walking a little behind and to
one side.

"Where's Luma? Out at the site?"

Deanna nodded.

"That truck coming along?"

Another nod.

"It'd be something if you got that monster moving. Nobody in town
believes you will. Enough people have tried with enough different
things."

They struck out across an open space, through the shade of an
outcropping that seemed to be the remains of an inselberg. It was
midmorning; there were a number of people taking advantage of the cool
under the thick stone, cooler than what could be had in the shadows of
the buildings or under roofs. When the sun reached the zenith,
activity would begin to shut down. Even out at the sites, where there
were ample basements and underground levels, it tended to the
uncomfortably warm at midday and for a few hours after noon, since the
Cardassians didn't build with any thought of keeping the heat out. In
fact, a lot of places there were designed to trap the day's heat
through the night's chill. Kira had been spending more time at the
salvage site at night, using the excuse of the heat to help Deanna in
town during the day. Chatting people up at their sites, they had
learned (fortunately through Deanna) was not a good idea. The hounds
tended to assume their claim was being assessed for poaching potential
when visitors showed without a very specific reason. Kira was getting
tired of having to mess with the pretense, and was now concentrating
on bringing back something salable so she'd have an excuse to "take a
break and stay with Meisaal" for a few days. Deanna was still visiting
the site about once a day to help with ideas and anything that needed
four hands, and provide Kira with any immediately relevant
information.

"Tuath! You've got a little friend."

Tuath tensed a moment, then relaxed as the speaker separated himself
from a shadow along a fissure in the rock and approached; Deanna's
light-dazzled eyes finally identified him as one of the other
deputies; she hadn't caught his name.

He was about as tall as Tuath, with blond hair caught back in a braid;
at least, Deanna assumed it was blond. The reason no one wore bright
colors around here had become apparent a while back; everything turned
various shades of desert-color in short order anyway.

"Don't scare me, Telvine. I just found her hiding in an alley; I don't
know why."

"She looks okay now."

"She is, but she's a magnet."

"Then should you really have her on rounds? That's what I wanted to
ask you in the first place. You want company, I'll go with you."

"It's her idea."

"Oh." He smiled, apparently with genuine amiability. "Guess you really
are a softie, Tuath. Hey! Kindly meant. But rounds, I mean,
since--um...her wife's Luma Rahl, does she have a different first
name?"

"She doesn't seem to mind if I use her last--Meisaal, in case you
didn't know. But if you're talking to Luma, I'd call her 'your wife'."

"Nice Luma's that protective; some people don't look out for their own
so well. Anyway, if she's with you, maybe *I* should stop by the cut
shop and Kula's."

"If they don't like her being there, she'll leave. But she doesn't
speak."

"She speaks to Luma."

"Who's very into her own business and staying out of everyone else's."

"*We* know that..."

"Like I said, she'll go, if there's a problem."

Telvine nodded, a little reluctantly, then deliberately turned to face
Deanna. "I heard you gave a couple of body-merchants what-for. Good
job, Meisaal."

Deanna skitched up closer to Tuath, not looking at him, but she sensed
that he didn't expect a response. He and Tuath nodded to each other,
and Telvine started back for the most central portion of town, the way
they'd just come.

"Don't mind him, Meisaal. He's okay. If you need someone and you can't
find me, go to Ansar or Telvine. Or Norres, if you'd rather go to a
woman. Men seem to make you touchy, and I can understand that, for
damn sure."

Deanna reached up and stroked her free hand down Tuath's shoulder.
When Tuath stopped, startled, and looked at her, Deanna gazed
quizzically up at Tuath. Their dust-laden hair, in twisted ropes, kept
flailing in their gaze, but Deanna'd ceased to care about dust.

"What?" Tuath barely whispered, her non-expression in place.

Deanna looked back toward Telvine, then up at Tuath again, letting her
brow crease.

"Oh--men? No, it's why I understand about--um, nothing like that
happened to me. But I know plenty of people it has happened to, men
and women. Since a man did for you, you might not like them much now.
Some people, they get like that; some don't."

Deanna nodded solemnly, and they continued out toward the
kilometer-wide semicircle of buildings that comprised most of the
southern section of town. They were walking into the sun, and the
usual wind; Deanna hid her eyes by touching her forehead to Tuath's
shoulder and letting the tall young woman's hand in hers guide her
steps.

"Maybe I shouldn't," Tuath was muttering, "but we're going to get the
cut shop out of the way first. That's Vrill. Hell, I shouldn't have
let you--"

Deanna risked a sound. A small giggle.

Tuath stopped again, looking at her.

Deanna gazed up at her with obvious merriment.

Tuath smiled. "You're probably telling me that you can handle
yourself, after all you've been through. I know that, I've seen you do
it when you have to. But I...don't like you to be upset."

Deanna shrugged and wrapped her arm through Tuath's.

Tuath stood very still a moment, and Deanna sensed that the reason was
that she was close to laughing. But she didn't; she finally just said
"Okay then, come on."

The cut shop was in a building at the far end of the semicircle of
same, apparently occupying the entire ground floor and points
vertical. The back wall was either gone or, more likely, reinstallable
when large pieces of machinery and other breakdownables weren't being
moved in or out, or weren't too big for the ground floor to hold.

At the moment, as they came in the strangely small front door to view
the entire floor walless, broken only by the bottom level of the
stairs inconveniently placed near the middle of the big room, there
seemed to be a ship fuselage--in its present state, Deanna had no idea
what sort--being reduced to manageable segments of what was likely
duranium; the back wall was gone because part of the still-intact
portion was hanging out due to lack of space. Various smaller
projects, some attended and some not, sat blocked up and stripped down
on benches and tables, mostly of some kind of metal themselves--again
Deanna could only assume a substance comparable in weight to, or of
greater tensile strength than, the burdens they held.

The racket was unbelievable. She clung to Tuath suddenly, mostly out
of startlement, and was startled again when Tuath put an arm around
her. Led by Tuath, they began to pick their way through the clutter
and mayhem toward the back of the room.

Not precisely toward the back; it turned out Tuath was heading for the
hidden area behind the stairs. As they rounded the corner, Deanna saw
the person who was obviously Vrill.

She was wresting the upper half from the lower half of a data main
drum; that piece of equipment, Deanna did recognize. But Vrill, rather
than disconnecting the segments, seemed to be ripping then apart.
Fragments of multicolored routing and insulation crystal were raining
all over the area, sharp as belt torch flames. More than a few people
were taking exception to this, but no one's hollered complaints could
be clearly distinguished over the racket of the main cutting presses
in the back.

Tuath screamed "VRILL!" Deanna was astonished at the sheer volume of
the summons. Tuath had so far been no more inclined to raise her voice
than to indulge in chitchat.

Vrill looked up, saw Tuath, and screamed back "IT'S OKAY! SHOT!
SALVAGING THE NODES!"

"NOT THE DAMN DRUM! GET OUT HERE!" She jerked her head sharply toward
the front of the building. Without waiting for an answer, she pulled
Deanna close and again took the lead through the clutter. Being small
and agile, Deanna could have bounded over and across it all in half
the time it took Tuath to pick through, but that would have been not
only ostentatious, but unkind in the face of such a well-meant offer
of assistance. Besides, in this savage-looking ruckus, the arm around
her did feel rather good.

They escaped from the loud dimness into the quieter glare. Tuath left
her arm around Deanna. "Sorry," she muttered shortly. Deanna nodded.
They waited a few moments.

Vrill emerged; she was one of the most solid Bajorans Deanna had ever
seen. She was wearing some kind of protective apron over the canvas
trousers that were ubiquitous in the area, and her bare arms rippled
with muscle. Her hair was long, and might have been reddish under the
dust. She was wiping her hands on a rag; Deanna wasn't surprised to
see bloody red streaks on the cloth. "Tuath."

"Vrill."

"Who's this?"

"Luma Meisaal. She's all right."

"How do I know that?"

"Vrill, she doesn't even speak. She was at Gallitep, too."

"Gallitep, hm?" Vrill eyed Deanna, who stared back, wide-eyed. Vrill
continued, holding out her hand, "C'mere, little thing. I don't bite."

Deanna looked trepidatiously up at Tuath, who was silent, then stepped
away from her, moving forward cautiously. She paused uncertainly,
looking at Vrill, who abruptly raised one hand and made a complex
motion with her fingers.

Deanna's eyes widened, and, following a gut feeling, she turned and
bolted back to Tuath, zipping around behind her and pressing close,
her forehead resting on Tuath's back.

"Vrill, dammit!"

"She was at Gallitep, she'll know it."

"Obviously she knows it, and obviously it scares her. She's not even
here for a reason, anyway. Let her be."

"Whatever you say, deputy Tuath." Vrill folded her arms, seeming
unimpressed.

So was Tuath. "Anyone contacted you?"

"Not since the last time you were by. Well, not about fencing poached
salvage..."

"I hope you're not making your own judgement calls about which claims
are valid again."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"What *have* you been contacted about?"

"Meeting in three days. Hear tell...are you sure she's all right?"

"If you mean does she feel okay, no. If you mean can you talk in front
of her, yes."

Creeping back around Tuath to peer over her arm, Deanna could sense
Vrill's continuing suspicion, but the big woman said only "Charity."

Deanna's breath caught silently at the vague, hazy image that came to
her.

Tuath's expression remained unreadable. "No kidding."

"Kid you not. Supposed to be there." She eyed Tuath.

"Where?"

"I've heard it's at the Spires."

"Who told you?"

"Gelleren Fren."

"You know who he heard it from?"

"From Ansar, he said."

Tuath shook her head. "He didn't hear it from Ansar."

"Doesn't mean she won't be there."

Not answering that supposition, Tuath continued. "Okay. We've got a
caravan coming in you might be interested in, unless you're all booked
to your buyers."

"Most of the best stuff is, but if they buy quantity I might as well
check it out. When and who?"

"Day after tomorrow, and they're Ferengi."

Vrill made a face. "Hm. Well, no harm showing up, I guess. Anything
else? I've gotta finish those drums by tonight."

"The usual when it's this busy. Keep your nose clean and get hold of
us if there's any suspicion at all about a load anyone brings you,
particularly if it's a small load."

"I know the routine."

"Right. See you later."

Vrill nodded again, gave Deanna a look, then went back into the shop.

Tuath put an arm around Deanna and pulled her close. "You okay?"

Deanna nodded.

"Sorry about that survival sign. I guessed you might not have very
good memories of the last time you saw it, but I thought telling Vrill
you'd been at Gallitep too might calm her down. She doesn't trust
many."

'Few here do', Deanna thought, and nodded. Her instinctive reaction to
the sign she didn't recognize and couldn't give the correct response
to appeared to have been on the mark.

The rest of the "rounds" went much as that episode had--most people
were more relaxed. Tuath did break up what looked like it was about to
be a small brouhaha that was, apparently, centered around a semi-drunk
political disagreement, but other than that--and the promised
nastiness from Kula, who brought in luxury items to sell to the hounds
and who appeared to think everyone was out to rob her; Deanna sensed
the instability and could, sadly, guess at what might have caused
it--and another mention of Charity, which earned the speaker a vicious
look and a gesture at Deanna from one of her companions--it seemed
that Tuath, at least, found everything routine.

They had just reached the center of town, near the vaporator; Tuath
was walking Deanna back to Norres's. The sun had just begun to drop
toward evening, and the huge outcropping that had been shading people
earlier cast a long, broad shadow up the narrow side streets and the
main way. Deanna caught a deep rasping sound, almost felt through her
boots more than heard. She stopped.

Tuath did, too. "Something wrong?"

Deanna cocked her head to one side, obviously listening intently.

"You hear something," Tuath said, and looked around; then, as a
coughing grinding sounded, her head swiveled toward the yard and the
main road into town therefrom.

The rumbling increased in volume as the huge cargo truck came into
view through the buildings of the yard, while it was still a fair
distance from town. Activity slowed to a halt as everyone turned to
watch.

As the truck approached on heavy treads, with the occasional scream of
distressed moving parts, Deanna grinned and tore off to meet it.

Keevan was leaving Norres's, and came up to Tuath. "I guess that must
be..."

"Yep," Tuath nodded, then smirked. "That'd be Luma."

The truck, with a loud crackling report of hotwired electronics,
shuddered to a halt about ten meters from the outermost building; an
enfilthed Kira could barely be seen, sitting in the cab, grinning when
she saw Deanna.

"That'll get 'em real latinum," Keevan said. "Maybe not as a unit, but
break it down and it's a working blueprint. Plus they must've torn the
place up finding replacement parts--some of what they'd've had to find
to get that thing going'd be worth a lot."

Kira was climbing out of the cab and swinging tiredly down the side of
the truck, alighting just in time to be swamped by Deanna. The sound
of their communal laughter could be heard where Tuath and Keevan were.
They got done hugging--Deanna liberally smeared with the fluids and
caked dust that covered Kira--and approached town with arms thrown
across each other's shoulders. As they reached Tuath, Kira said "Think
we'll pull anything in with that?"

"Nice haul, Luma. You must've been a hell of a tinkerer for the
resistance."

"I did a fair amount of work with them. But Meisaal helped a lot with
this, too." She looked around, apparently unsure of the sort of
reaction she was going to get.

Tuath saw the look, and glanced around herself. There were a couple of
people moving toward them, then a couple more.

"The traders," Luma said. "I hoped we weren't going to tick anyone off
with this...it's gonna take some business away from some people for a
little while."

"Steady," said Tuath quietly. "You're not out of line."

A woman came up to them and stopped, stared at the truck, then looked
at Kira and grinned, giving her a wink. "Not bad. Show us a trick or
two, maybe?"

"Yeah," agreed a man who was walking with a young boy. "Sometimes we
can't tell if we've got all the parts we need, whether they're
functional, hooked up right..."

"You're the first to bring in one of those things since I've been
here," another man mused, "and I've been here a while. Uh, steer clear
of Vrill. She's going to be...unhappy about the competition."

"We aren't staying long," Kira protested. "It's just one or two
trading opportunities that--"

"That's enough for Vrill," Keevan said. "He's right. Steer clear of
her."

Kira nodded. "If you say so. I might not be as much help as you think,
but I could take a look at whatever's giving you trouble. But I'm no
engineer. Hell, I'm barely a mechanic, and then only with the sort of
gear I worked with during the Occupation."

"Just a look, then. If you can't do anything, don't worry about it."

"Sure. Right now, though, I could use a bath and ten hours' sleep."

The woman who'd spoken first chuckled. "Yeah, you look pretty bad even
for this place. Well, see you around--Luma, that's right. I'm Caicea."

Kira nodded to her, received a couple of other introductions, and
faded toward the door to their building, Deanna in tow.

Tuath said quickly "Your wife decided to come on rounds with me today.
I imagine she'll have a lot to tell you."

Kira nodded. "I guess so. Thanks for spending time with her. She likes
you."

"Like I said before, I like her too. But don't...don't worry too much
about what she can't explain. It's not really important."

Kira stopped, but finally only nodded, and she and Deanna turned to go
in.

---

As the door closed behind them, Kira raised an eyebrow at Deanna, who
whispered "I've arranged for the tub for half an hour; I'll tell you
there." Kira nodded and proceeded to the tub room while Deanna went
for clean clothes.

When they were in the room and the tub was filling, Kira murmured
under the noise "How'd you manage to get the time?"

"I bought it from Trine. She had an hour booked, and I...asked for
half."

"How did you...if neither of you could talk..."

"It's difficult to explain..."

"No, really. I'll take your word for it. Although how you manage to
pull that kind of thing off..." she was climbing into the water,
raising the level in the high-sided tub. Deanna leaned on the edge,
reaching in to help her, and to continue being able to talk in
whispers.

"Okay," Kira said, soaping her head, "what was that all about with
Tuath? Rounds?"

Deanna whispered back, taking over scrubbing Kira's hair and beginning
to work her way down, "She visits residents and shopowners and such
much as your Constable and his people do; she encountered me where I'd
been trying to eavesdrop in an alley, and when I heard what she was
doing I simply latched onto her."

"That wasn't very nice. You knew she couldn't bear to shoo you away."

"She tried, though I admit she didn't try very hard. In any case, I
believe I have a very salient piece of information. I've been sensing
thoughts and feelings about someone who seems to be a member of the
Buried--not a terribly longstanding member, I don't think, but very
important in the hearts and minds of those here who are Buried. The
images I receive are seldom completely clear, and this one is foggier
than most--I believe many of those who know who she is don't know what
she looks like, exactly--as though they'd only heard a description, or
got a brief glimpse but no good look. It is a woman, or at least
everyone thinks it is. She is rumored to be coming here, and people
are attaching great importance to that fact."

"*This* sounds big. Do you think you'd be able to recognize her if you
saw her?"

"I may not get that chance. She doesn't seem to be arriving openly; in
fact, she may not be arriving at all--but I heard, today with Tuath,
that there is speculation she will be at a meeting--I could sense the
reference was to a meeting of the Buried or of certain members--to be
held at the Spires of Remaith in three days. I heard her referred to,
twice, by the name 'Charity.'"

"That's not a name..."

"On Earth, it is, but perhaps a pseudonym, a code name..."

"Sounds like she's pretty hot--if everybody's so fond of her, she's
probably some kind of active operative for the organization, going
under what's obviously not a real name--she might be so well known to
the authorities there's no point in her trying to get by under an
assumed identity. It might be our prankster-cum-terrorist..."

"That was my thinking as well."

Kira ducked under the water for a couple of moments, came back up
snorting, and muttered "We've got to find a way to get at least one of
us to that meeting. Preferably me."

"Preferably me. They'll talk more freely in front of me. Besides,
Vrill is the one I got some of this information from; and she would
never tolerate your presence. Having met her, I think it's safe to say
she wouldn't have tolerated it anyway, as you're not Buried; now with
an added grudge..."

"You're not Buried either, and likely *all* the members would forbid
anyone not sworn in to come to a meeting, especially one this
important."

"But between the two of us, I have the better chance."

"Twice nothing is still nothing..."

"I may be able to improve those odds. I have a friend on the inside."

"You...Tuath. You really think you can convince her in three days to
trust you that far? Champion you to the others? Especially since
you're married to...Meisaal's married to Luma. How could Tuath be
certain of your discretion, your...loyalty?"

"I'm not sure...but I have a feeling that it is necessary for me to
try."

"Let's get me and my grime out of the tub and you and yours in...I
don't know, Deanna, as you've said, you aren't an intelligence
operative, and that plan is one hell of a long shot, no matter how
good you are with this sort of thing. Here." Kira pulled Deanna's
boots off for her as the tub drained, then began toweling off as
Deanna divested herself of her clothes. Kira continued, rinsing the
tub out, "I say we go stealthy on this one. Sneak in."

"Do you know the ways around and through the Spires of Remai?"

"No...but you don't seem to have much trouble finding your way through
there."

"Nerys. You know better. I cannot guarantee I'll know which way is up
or down, let alone be able to find my way. If your clandestine
observation idea counts on that, it's over before it starts."

"Here, hop in..." to make the most of the time they had, both of them
had got in and started scrubbing well before the tub filled all the
way, but Deanna's hair always took a few extra minutes over the time
Kira needed. "How about this. You keep observing, get all the
information you can, and...okay, see what you can do toward getting
next to Tuath. That can't hurt. I, meanwhile, since I have an excuse
now, will hang around town and try to get a reputation as being
especially tolerant of the Buried. Tuath already believes I am. We can
argue about it again day after tomorrow, depending on how things have
gone."

"That--" she broke off and ducked under the water, staying down so
long as she worked on her hair that Kira found herself taking gulps of
air, then came up and blew water, finishing "--that sounds
reasonable."

---

Deanna was walking through an echoing cavern. The sound of her
footsteps shivered in her ears, as though she walked through an
underwater grotto. The light shone on walls that seemed to be slick
with moisture, reflecting the light that flickered sporadically around
her, flashes from a distance, intermittent, as though blocked by the
changing contours of the cavern walls as she moved. There was a
pervasive sound beneath her footsteps, a hiss, a whisper, as of some
sort of current...

There was an unmistakable disturbance up ahead, sharp and cold, the
sounds reverberating through the warm air to her ears. There was an
urgent pattern to them, an intense, anxious tattoo. They echoed louder
and louder...she kept moving forward cautiously, taking an abrupt
right turn into a wider passage; she couldn't clearly see walls or
ceiling or floor, no more constant than the light was, but she could
feel that it was wider than the one she'd just come through.

This way terminated in a huge space, where the sounds built loudest,
and a few dim lights shone, it seemed, far away from where she was,
making shining mirages in several places on the slickly gleaming cave
walls. She kept moving into the middle of the cave, silent, listening
as the noise continued.

Suddenly the floor beneath her lurched, and she stumbled, then began
to run--across the great space, rather than back the way she'd come;
in the low light, even her eyes had lost sight of the opening. The
floor lurched again, and she fell, scrambled up and continued until
finally she slammed into what felt like a hard shelf of rock, smooth
and cold. She jumped up on it, and slid down into a space on the other
side. She turned to look behind her.

The ground was opening; light shone up from below, too bright to make
anything out. The sound of the current grew louder, and another sound
built on top of it, like breakers, like rapids...the ground continued
to move...

She came awake with a gasp, and shoved herself up sitting, controlling
her breaths. She knew that place. She had seen it--it was--

It was not a cavern.

She slid out of the bedroll, being careful not to touch Nerys, and got
dressed as silently as possible. Nerys was not a heavy sleeper...

She put on her belt torch--in this case, the name described two
functions; the usual cutting device was supplemented on her model by a
light--and slipped out of the room, relocking the door from the inside
as she went. She moved surreptitiously; plenty of people were up at
night around here, though most took advantage of the cool to get some
rest. But anyone who knew her was bound to wonder why Meisaal was
heading out to Luma's salvage site in the middle of the night
*without* her wife. One advantage, though, was that most people, even
if thinking it curious, would never actually ask questions. The hounds
were scrupulous about determining what was their own business and
minding it, and if outright violence or thievery was fairly rare here,
so was samaritanism.

She settled into a muscle-warming jog as soon as she reached the first
buildings of the yard. It still took her about fifteen minutes to
reach her destination.

She slowed, panting softly, before she got there, the better to keep
to the shadows. She didn't know if anyone would be here; she sensed no
presence, but sometimes she didn't, until said presence was close,
especially if she was concentrating on something else.

Her eyes soaking up moonlight, she made her way between the fuselage
casings and the building they were next to until she reached the
entrance she sought. She descended, pausing a moment to let her eyes
adjust; she didn't want to use her light just yet, not until she was
sure she was alone. Moving slowly through the outer room and halls,
she gradually slowed to a stop as her surroundings grew
indistinguishable. She closed her eyes and lay her hand on the wall.

The humming...a hissing sound...air, the environmentals, still
functioning when all the systems around them had been choked with
desert and neglect. She opened her eyes and kept moving. The next turn
was the abrupt right into the main passageway. As she reached it, she
stopped and pulled her boots off, to avoid the rolling echoes of boot
soles on metal deckplates.

There was no light...for a moment. Then her eyes began to register
fluttering reflections, small and dim, on the minute contours of the
metal walls, appearing and disappearing as she moved. At the end of
this corridor, in the large bay, there was light. She tried to see
which wall was reflecting the least light, but could detect no
difference, so picked one at random and faded against it, padding
along even more slowly.

She stopped and sank to a crouch when she picked out the light-etched
opening into the launch bay. As she did so, the source of the light
came into view; a semicircle of lights across the bay, on the opposite
wall, where the consoles and controls were that Kira had identified as
platform control and ground launch mechanisms--probably they also
controlled functions in the repair bays below. But nothing had been
activated the last time they were here.

She closed her eyes again and extended her empathic senses; unless it
were members of a race Betazoids could not read or a telepath
proficient enough to shield against detection by another--and
shielding against an empath as strong as Deanna would have been even
more difficult; her senses were less precise, but more sensitive--she
was alone in the building.

She rose again and proceeded into the bay, following the light. She
crossed the floor silently, almost twitching with the need to get all
the way across and behind the console she'd jumped over in her dream,
but when she got there the flooring was still quiescent.

Behind the console, she saw that there were active controls there,
too, adding more light to the area--as adapted as her eyes now were,
she didn't need her torch, at least not yet.

She examined the console's workings, then those of the panel behind
her, and muttered inaudibly "Too bad Bajor wasn't occupied by the
Romulans..." she turned back to the console. If that...was the
overhead doors...and this was the--the lift platforms? Then it was
only logical that *this*...she tapped lights and felt the metal
beneath her stocking feet shudder.

A rumbling sound, an old mechanism with higher tones of complaint and
underuse sounding in the deeper notes. She waited, but there was no
light; she turned on her torch and shone it at the broad expanse of
black metal that lay on the other side of the console. A dark fissure
had appeared, not quite the length of the room. She shone her light
around to see the guardrailed walkways immobile as the plates
continued to pull back. When the shuddering had completely stopped,
and the rumbling breaker-noise was silent, she came out from behind
the console, slipping her boots back on as she went.

She moved along a walkway until she found stairs, and, holding the
handrail, descended to the bay below. Unsurprisingly, her light shone
off the hulls of small vessels as she cast the beam around her. She
moved between them. They seemed in reasonable condition, not new, of
course, and they might be completely defunct for all she knew, but
there wasn't anything immediately obvious to her that would prevent
their flying.

She approached the door of one, and examined the panel next to it. She
saw that one would need to know some kind of a code to open the door,
rather than having a specific identity or clearance level. She had
almost turned away when something stopped her.

The third light.

The third light? She looked again at the panel. All right, the third
light. It wasn't likely anything worse than not being able to get in
would occur if she gave it a try. She tapped the light. It came on.
She paused, considering what random key to try next--

The second. Second light on the first tier of lights. She tapped it.
It came on, too. She closed her eyes, and saw the first light of the
third tier of lights come on in her mind's eye. She touched that one,
too.

First tier. First light.

Second tier, fourth light.

Third tier, second light.

The door slid open.

She stepped up into the ship as illumination rose inside and an almost
impalpable vibration began through the small vessel as basic systems
activated. She replaced the torch at her belt as the doors slid closed
behind her. The vessel was slightly larger than a runabout; it had the
distinctively circular layout pattern to the controls at the front,
which pattern was a fairly common one, but not as much so in small
vessels. She moved forward and found the pilot's chair.

Seating herself, she surveyed the controls. She had, of course, some
small familiarity with Cardassian operating systems--Starfleet
Commanders didn't remain ignorant of such things long--but she was
still startled at how basic and straightforward the layout seemed to
her. But then, Starfleet personnel had learned fairly easily to run
Terok Nor--for that matter, Chief O'Brien and his staff could maintain
systems there with no formal training in Cardassian technology at all.
She tapped lights, growing more confident. More systems came up. She
couldn't tell for a complete certainty that the ship was completely
functional, but if there was any system inoperable, any fuel cells or
components drained or down, she couldn't find them.

She began to shut down; when she was done, she disembarked, and as the
door closed behind her the basic systems deactivated again. She turned
her belt light back on and was about to try her luck at one of the
other ships when she heard a noise overhead--an urgent
sound--thudding, a crashing against metal plates--footsteps,
running...a sensation of anger, frustration, fear--running footsteps,
running away--

She lunged for the side of the bay opposite the one she'd come down,
the side that adjoined the main passage she'd entered the place by.
She'd seen stairs on all sides of the room when she was at the
console--

She dodged various mechanical obstacles and lunged up the stairs,
pelting for all she was worth after the retreating figure she'd only
barely glimpsed. She had seen that it was slim, very tall, and the
head seemed an odd, not-Bajoran shape, but it was impossible to be
sure--

She knew she was gaining, she could sense it; to judge by the anxiety
radiating from the being ahead, he, she or it was having a difficult
time navigating. Such a tall, slim species might not be used to
gravity this heavy, and running in it might be very stressful--or
there were any number of other possible factors, if the person really
wasn't Bajoran--

She didn't get another look at the person until they were both out the
main entrance and tackling the obstacle run outside back toward the
main thoroughfare. Yes, the biped was much taller than Bajoran norm.
Moonlight glinted off some sort of apparatus on the being's
head--possibly breathing gear?--but she didn't have the opportunity to
find out just what, as the other being's longer legs, now that Deanna
and her quarry were in the open, immediately gave it a speed
advantage. Well, that and an obvious determination not to be
approached.

She lost the being somewhere in the ruins of the yard. She came to a
halt, panting, on the main thoroughfare. She looked up,
down...nothing. No sound.

'Now', she thought, 'I know where that door code came to me from...'

She whispered to the moonlit stillness, staring off down the
thoroughfare, "Would you, by any chance, ever go by the name
'Charity'...?"

---

"Rahl. Wake up, it's me." She tapped again.

There was a guttural noise, then a mild exclamation and a flurry as of
cloth flying, and the door opened suddenly, nearly yanking Deanna off
her feet by the hand that held the knob.

Nerys hauled her in and shut the door again, taking her shoulders.
"Where did you go off to without telling me? That's a long way from
procedure, Fleet or Militia either one."

"I'm sorry, but I...I thought of something--I had a hunch, and I felt
it was important that I check it out alone."

"That's not good enough. I put this in my report and you're going to
get a damn sharp reprimand."

"Just listen a minute, Nerys, and then when we've discussed it you can
scold me some more."

Kira eyed her, then made a dissatisfied noise and let her go,
returning to the bedroll.

Deanna began disrobing. "It seems our charitable friend is indeed
quite the technical whiz--definitely enough so to have accomplished
the bombing, the doctored messages, all of it. I encountered someone
tonight who, because of the images I've received of Charity, I believe
to be her." Deanna related events, from the point where she'd
discovered the activated panels in the bay. To her credit, Nerys was
silent until she'd finished. Deanna sat back down next to Nerys
halfway through, naked as the day she was born, to complete her
narrative. Nerys was listening, but she began to get a small smirk on
her face when Deanna reached for her nightgown, but then merely held
it in her lap.

When Deanna was through, Nerys said "I've got to admire that kind of
shameless, blatant manipulation. You're not even trying to fool me.
Fine, my report won't mention your sneaking off." She pulled her own
pajamas off and pulled Deanna in next to her, wrapping them close.

Deanna rolled her eyes. "You're so suspicious, Nerys."

"And you know me too damn well."

"Come on, now, what do you think?"

"I think you're right. I think our technically minded prankster and
this Charity are probably one and the same. Did she get a good look at
you?"

"I don't think so. She probably ran as soon as she saw the repair bay
was open, and I was hidden from that angle behind one of the ships
when I heard the footsteps...she was probably on her way there,
thinking about the ships and her destination, when I received the
correct access code."

"That's something, she won't be able to target you like she did Evekis
Mosilan, but now she's been warned. She'll be out of here in a
heartbeat."

"Not necessarily, although finding her might be even less feasible a
proposition now," Deanna thought aloud.

"Mm...it's true, those ships--assuming any of them are in working
order besides the one you checked out--represent a lot of work to
restore and hide. I wonder how long she's been lying low--and I wonder
exactly what she intends to use them for. Were they armed?"

"Yes. Not especially heavily, but more so than a Euphrates-class
runabout."

"That's heavily enough for me. You're right, she won't want to give
them up--but instead of sneaking in and killing you, and whoever might
have been with you, to protect the secret--she ran. That doesn't make
any sense with what we know of her so far. She was willing to
sacrifice a few dozen innocent tourists to her cause--or to her
insanity, we're still not clear on her motivations--and she had no
scruples about taking Evekis out. That might not have been her
directly, but he's too tied in with the Remai bombing; if it wasn't
her, it's like Alune thought, and she's got an immediate partner or
partners working with her. So why balk at killing you?"

"Surprise, perhaps. She was outraged and frustrated when she realized
someone was in the bay. It's also true she didn't know exactly who, or
how many, were there; if she wasn't armed..."

"True. Brave confrontation is not the terrorist way. They're more into
poisoning and bombs. But one way or another, whether she gives up on
the ships as a lost cause and takes off into hiding again, or decides
to take action to keep them, she knows they've been found by
*someone*. She's got to make a move soon."

"I wonder if she knew anyone had staked a salvage claim so near where
the ships were hidden. No one seems to have terribly direct knowledge
of her here, I haven't heard or sensed anyone who seems to know her
personally..."

"...but it's still possible she has an informant. In fact...she could
have been here *because* an information source in town--and with those
ships here, it's not too unlikely she'd have one--told her someone was
junking a little too close to home. In which case she likely knows our
names, and if not, getting them wouldn't be hard...and who'd be more
likely to have stumbled across her cache than the people hunting for
buried treasure nearby?"

"Not a pleasant thought."

"Not with what we know about her, no," Kira agreed.

"I think we should reconsider our plans about that meeting--it might
still be advantageous to go, perhaps there's some way to convince her
that we aren't the ones who discovered her cache...I'll continue to
cultivate Tuath, as long as I think I can without getting her in
trouble. I don't want her caught in the middle of anything."

"Me neither, and that's fine as far as it goes--I'll try to casually
make it known that neither of us have been out to the site since I
brought the truck in--but Charity'll still be suspicious it's us who's
found the bay, above anyone else. Neither of us should be alone, ever,
and especially we need to stay out of the shipyard, too easy to be
eliminated out in all that. If she decides to take the ships and get
out, or at least try to...I think it's beyond our power to stop, now."

"I'm forced to agree," Deanna said. "But I still wonder...that
pseudonym...of course, it *may* not even be a pseudonym if she's not
Bajoran, and I'm almost certain she isn't."

"Good point. Why the Buried think so highly of her is up in the air,
too. If it's because they approve of her recent activities...that says
some bad things about just how defunct their society really is."

"Not, in other words--even if seriously reduced in numbers and
capability." Deanna sighed. "We should go back to sleep if we can."

"Not quite yet."

"Can't we fight in the morning, Nerys?"

"We likely will, but that isn't what I meant."

"Oh. That's--*oh* my--that's different."

---

"I. DO. NOT. LIKE. THIS."

"I believe you, Nerys."

"I don't like to think badly of her either, but do we really know her?
Even you? After all we've found out, you can have this idea?"

"You should be more worried about yourself, here in town alone. Anyone
here could be Charity's informant."

"I'LL be fine so long as I stay in a crowd; there can't be more than
one or two people here, from the information you've gathered, that are
working closely with her. YOU're going to be alone with one person,
kilometers from here."

"I'm not afraid of Tuath. I can sense her well. If she should intend
anything inimical, I'll know about it in plenty of time."

"But why the Spires?"

"I told you, it's where the meeting will be--"

"--assuming Charity still plans to show up after this--"

"--and I have reason to think...that I know *exactly* where it will
be. Or exactly where it...where it should be."

"What the hell does that mean? Prophets!"

"I think so for the same reason that I felt I should go to the bay
where the ships are. The same...hunch."

Nerys hyperventilated in annoyance, then sighed. "I guess...if I keep
gambling on your instincts when you try to tell me not to, I can't
blame you for turning it around on me. All right. We'll ask. Here's
hoping she says no."

They got up from the bedroll and went down to get some breakfast.

As had become about a semi-regular habit with her, Tuath came in and
got in line with them. "Hi."

Deanna turned around smiling, stepped over to Tuath and took her hand,
leaning lightly on her and resting her head on Tuath's shoulder.

Tuath was taken aback. Deanna hadn't done this in any kind of real
company before, particularly not if that company included Kira. The
Major was amused to see the scowling,
reticent-to-the-point-of-surliness young woman stammer haltingly
"Meisaal...does she do this a lot, Luma?"

"I think I can honestly say that I have never seen her do that. But
she might have an ulterior motive. She wants to see the Spires of
Remai, and I have appointments with some of the hounds to look at
their projects, plus I've got some more work to do on the truck before
the traders show up. I said I'd ask you if you wanted to take her.
It's not like I know the place, anyway--but you've been around here a
while, I imagine you've been out there...?"

"Yeah, plenty. I do have...um, I'll have to tell Ansar, and we ought
to wait until the sun's over and headed down. I've gone out there in
day's heat enough, but I don't care much for the hardpan in the sun,
and I won't take Meisaal into it."

"I'll buy you some extras to go with rations, then. Thanks. Look,
you're a good responsible girl, and I trust you--mostly because
Meisaal does--but remember; she isn't stupid, but she *never*
complains. She'll take care of herself if she's left to herself, but
if she's with someone else, she'll let herself be hurt rather than
make any kind of, well...what she'd see as 'trouble'."

"Yeah. Because that's what *they* called it. Don't worry. I know about
how that treatment leaves you."

"Good," Kira muttered, and almost wondered if it was Luma who was
saying it.

---

The sun was in the west, and they were headed east. Deanna could tell
Tuath was slowing her already deliberate, if long-legged, pace. That
was all right with Deanna; they could worry about making speed when
the sun was farther down.

In its way, the land was beautiful, as with any sere and desolate
space--if one took time to absorb it, appreciate it; it being so
empty, open, providing little stimulation, little to react to; one was
able to listen to the silence without distraction, and the mind
opened...the wind meditation had always been one of Deanna's
favorites, and there was certainly wind here, though at the moment it
was fairly tame. As the sun continued to sink, the sky took on a
brilliant, deep, azure hue, exactly like Earth's sky in the early
evening, and the land turned from grey-dun in glare to chalk-white in
yellow sunlight, and the dust was settled. In the distance, the spires
rose like the proverbial ivory towers.

Deanna's hair was tied behind her in a loose braid; curls escaped
around the edges and were stretched across her face by the wind. She
had Nerys's lightweight leather sun hat on, fastened securely with a
thong under her chin. A roomy felted tunic, sleeved, covered her not
quite to her knees over the canvas pants tucked into her boots. She
had practically been sat on and dressed by hand by Kira, who had been
checking Deanna's abraded skin three times a day to be sure it was
healing properly. Well, at least the tunic's fabric breathed well.

At first, absorbing the experience, she didn't notice Tuath's silence;
it wasn't as though Tuath was a chatterbox in any case. But as the
town slowly eased away from them to stern, Deanna realized that she
was sensing a certain level of tension from the younger woman. She
lifted her head to look up and over at her, beneath the hat's
brim--Tuath was not quite a head taller than Deanna--but she couldn't
see Tuath's face for the long brown hair, shining with a liberal
salting of gold glints in the sun, that was blown loose from the
ponytail she wore and out ahead of her.

Deanna very nearly spoke, but stopped herself in time and reached up
to touch the blowing hair instead, starting to tuck a lock of it back
behind Tuath's ear.

Tuath jumped. Deanna drew her hand back at once. Tuath saw her and
said "Hey--sorry, it's all right. You startled--I mean, *I* was
startled, you were...just making conversation, weren't you?" She gave
one of her pained near-smiles. Deanna smiled back, and reached up
again; Tuath stood still under her hand as Deanna tried to rearrange
her hair, then gave up and grabbed the metal clasp holding the
ponytail.

Chuckling uncertainly, Tuath gently prevented her fingers. "Not much
point to it here," she said, cleared her throat, and continued "but
the wind will die down later. We can fix it then."

Deanna stood a moment, her fingers loosely held in Tuath's; she
brought Tuath's down by the hold and brushed her mouth across the
other woman's hand. Then she let go.

Tuath was quiet; then she said "Come on, we better be moving. Luma'll
make me regret it if I keep you out all night."

They kept walking, not too fast, across the flatness, aided by the
wind, with the light at their backs.

After a time, Deanna reached for Tuath's hand--the thumb hooked into a
trouser pocket, as usual--and pulled it free to hold it, interlacing
their fingers. She squeezed Tuath's hand, and Tuath squeezed back,
paused, then squeezed again. They continued, the Spires growing ever
larger.

Tuath spoke, so quietly Deanna knew that another Bajoran might not
have heard it over the soft sound of the wind. "I...wasn't always like
this. I mean, I wasn't always...only fit to live in a place like this.
I had a lot of hope." She was silent, then, for a long time.

Deanna tugged at her arm, making Tuath jump. They stopped, and Deanna
used her free hand to touch Tuath's lips.

"I was talking, I--I'm sorry, I know you aren't stupid. You must
mean...you want to say something?"

Deanna simply looked at her, then touched Tuath's lips again.

"Oh."

Deanna smiled just slightly.

"I...okay. Come on."

Still holding hands, they began to walk again.

"I guess I just wanted you to know...that I was kind of like you once.
Not like...not like how you are because of what they did to you. I
know about what they do to make it hard to talk...how fun they think
it is. I meant that even though you don't speak, you...you're still
there, you're in there, you haven't...well, not that *I've* given up,
either, or...I guess you might think I have, the Buried aren't that
hopeful a bunch, not for this life. Usually. But we have a reason
to...be."

'That's always something,' Deanna thought as she nodded, and squeezed
Tuath's hand in reply.

As the spires approached, Deanna became daunted at their sheer
size--which hadn't seemed so important last time she'd arrived in a
tour flyer--and wondered how they were going to get up on the
almost-sheer cliff that formed the base of the core of the giant,
ancient volcano that had once surrounded it.

"Yeah, you can really crane your neck around this place. Don't trip--"
Deanna had been ogling and was saved from her stumble by her grip on
Tuath's hand. "Come on; we go around this way. There's a staircase cut
into the rock, but be careful on it; the steps are worn mostly away.
It's more of a ramp."

It was a heck of a climb, all right, less because it was steep than
because it took a lot of energy to keep from sliding backward. The
ramp wound around the base of the Spires, taking them into the shadow
to the leeward of the sunlight.

When they'd made it, Deanna paused, staring around at the stone
towers. She pondered the size the original volcano would have had to
be to leave an inselberg this big and wondered that the seismic
disturbance hadn't destroyed the planet. Now, to find the wrecked
Spire...she started off, remembering directions, leading Tuath by the
hand.

"Meisaal--no, we shouldn't go near there. It's not safe." Determined,
Deanna released Tuath and continued on. Finally Tuath sighed and
followed.

Once there--the collapsed tower that now extended in fragments across
the desert floor had been at one edge of the base that supported all
the towers--clambering in the rubble, Deanna realized she could search
forever this way, and finally sat down on a large chunk of dusty rock
to think. She closed her eyes and concentrated. She'd never been able
to make one of her intuitive leaps happen, never been able to arrange
a moment of vision or clairvoyance, but she figured it couldn't hurt
to try.

Coolness

She jumped, then closed her eyes again.

She thought she could feel...the touch of something moist and
chill...cool but not cold, like the river she'd swum in with Tasha
years ago...still air...a heavy darkness.

Here. But where was the way in? Years of study by archaeologists
hadn't found the spring, even a dry remnant of it. And if there had
been a way to it, it was likely to be blocked by the destruction of
the Spire above it. But there was a way...she was sure of it.

"How did you know, Meisaal?"

Deanna looked up at Tuath.

"About...this place."

Deanna looked puzzled.

"This is...some of us know about the caves under the Spire, here. You
came right to the place, though there was never an entrance here. You
knew."

Deanna blinked, then realized she'd slipped up; she should have made
her search look more random. Oh well. She nodded.

"Someone must have told you."

She nodded again.

"Who? If you can't tell me now, can you find some way to let me know
when we get back?"

Deanna considered, then shook her head.

Tuath watched her for a bit, some of her former suspicion returning to
her gaze; then she relaxed again, as much as she ever did. "Okay. I
trust you. Though there's someone around town who maybe I shouldn't
trust; no one who knows about this place would...at least, I didn't
think...did someone tell you, or did you overhear?"

Deanna touched her ear as soon as the last word was out of Tuath's
mouth.

"Oh. I guess people might not be as careful about what they say around
you as they should. When did you hear?"

Deanna stood and laid her hand on Tuath's chest under the collarbone.

"You heard it from me?"

Deanna shook her head.

"You...you heard it *with* me. On rounds?"

Deanna nodded and smiled.

"Oh. I wish you could tell me why it was so important to you to see
the place...well, since you know about it, I might as well give you
the tour. Come on."

She led Deanna away from the rubble, toward one of the other Spires
and in. Deanna's eyes adjusted quickly, but Tuath pulled her
lamp/torch off her belt and clicked it on. "Stay close. It's easy to
get lost in these things. Plus I wasn't kidding when I said it's not
really safe around here. We've been out since the Spire was destroyed
and cleaned up some, but there are a couple of bad spots, still. We
can't be sure we've done enough to get rid of all the traps. Shouldn't
be a problem until we're under the wrecked Spire."

There wasn't much evidence of research in this particular spire, at
least not at this level; there weren't any lights in the admittedly
few corridors they traversed. They wound around and through the
tunnels in the rock, until they reached what looked like another
worn-down staircase that led up to the next level of the Spire and
down into the base; this one, not being exposed to the elements, had
not been ground down so badly, and they were able to keep their feet
as they descended.

Deanna would have closed her eyes and listened as she walked, feeling
for the chambers she knew were here somewhere, but she had to keep
track of Tuath, and she couldn't hold on to her because they needed
both hands in places. It seemed to take quite a while, moving through
the featureless, close shafts, but finally they emerged into a larger
space.

Tuath paused to turn on a lamp on the floor near the door, then moved
around the oblong chamber turning on a few more. Deanna could feel a
faint breeze of fresh air emanating from the access at the other end
of the room. In what passed for the center of the irregular chamber
was a low, circular platform carven with what she recognized as
ancient Bajoran lettering. On closer inspection, there was no top to
the platform; she peered inside, and the bottom was dry rock, with
openings on the north and south sides. How she knew they were the
north and south sides, she wasn't sure. But she did know that this
wasn't the chamber she was looking for.

She picked up a lamp and went to the other entrance, peering through.

"Meisaal, that only leads to a ventilation shaft."

Deanna started down the tunnel, Tuath following. "Meisaal!" Tuath was
saying. "I told you, there's nothing but a--"

Deanna saw the entrance to the shaft and approached. At about shoulder
level-on her, the opening was a horizontal rectangle about two-thirds
of a meter long and slightly less high. Holding her lamp so that it
shone in the opening, she looked up; that was the direction the breeze
was coming from, all right, and she could hear air sighing in the
shaft with a vacant, lonely sound.

But the shaft descended, too.

She swung her lamp in and lowered it to the length of her arm; she
couldn't see a bottom as far as the light reached, which wasn't that
far, owing to the lamp's base being opaque and her eyes getting
dazzled from having to look past the light itself.

Coolness

She could almost feel water running over her arm.

She pulled the lamp back up and set it on the floor, then pulled
Nerys's hat off and set it nearby, and started to hoist herself toward
the opening.

"DAMN it--" her tunic was grabbed and she was hauled back out and down
to the floor again with an abrupt yank. "Are you crazy? You want to
get stuck in a ventilation shaft?"

Deanna shook her head. Meisaal sighed. "I guess I can't fault you for
being curious, but I can see why Luma's so careful of you. You just
don't *climb* into strange holes in caves with no anchor rope and no
light, and unless you have experience at it you don't do it at all."

Deanna raised her eyebrows at Tuath.

"What? Is there rope? Or do I have--"

Deanna nodded.

"Meisaal..."

Deanna gave her an imploring look.

Tuath closed her eyes, sighing. "Yes, there's rope back up at the
ruined spire, we were using it to clear boulders. And I've climbed
around these caverns before, but that's just an air shaft. If I fit at
all it'll be a tight squeeze, and the shaft probably gets narrower,
then tapers off and stops. *What* do you think we'd find?"

Deanna sat down with her back to the wall that housed the shaft and
looked stubborn, wrapping her arms around her folded knees.

"Look...if I go back up and get the rope, can I trust you not to...?
Yeah, I probably can, but I'm not going to leave you here anyway. Come
on. We'll both go."

Smiling, Deanna reached up and let Tuath assist her to her feet, then
followed her.

Back down in the tunnel, Tuath tied a lamp to the end of the rope and
lowered the lamp down the shaft; it took almost all thirty meters of
rope before she finally muttered "Bottom. It looks clear all the way
down, no rubble for anything to be hiding in...now, the way we're
going to do this is, I'm going to tie the rope around you and belay
you from this end. I'll give you my torch and lower you to the bottom,
then pull you back up. Will that satisfy your curiosity?"

Deanna nodded and hugged Tuath, face in her shoulder.

After a moment, Tuath hugged back, and Deanna sensed the slow
formation of a feeling of, almost, sadness...or even fear? She
couldn't pin it down, but it was heavily intermixed with the affection
for her she'd sensed in Tuath some time back. Tuath wasn't letting her
go, though.

Finally Deanna loosened her arms and Tuath released her at once.
"Okay, here. That shaft's not wide enough for you to sit in a harness;
I'll have to loop the rope around your ribs. It might not feel so
great."

Deanna held her arms out. Tuath proceeded to wrap her in rope, then
lifted her so that she was braced feetfirst in the shaft before
handing her the belt torch. Deanna squirmed and got situated, inuring
herself to the straining around her ribs, under her arms and across
her back and shoulders, and reminded herself that she was not
claustrophobic.

Tuath lowered her surprisingly quickly--not dangerously so, but faster
than Deanna had expected, what with Tuath's overcaution where she was
concerned. She supposed she must be just a bit heavier than Tuath had
anticipated.

Just when she was wondering, as she stared back up toward the
increasingly distant lamplight--shining her torch around at the
featureless walls that were, at most, four inches away from her on all
sides was not that edifying--if the lamp Tuath had lowered had maybe
struck a shelf rather than actually reaching bottom, the toes of her
boots swung into nothingness rather than tapping against the shaft in
front of her. As she continued to descend, and her feet finally
touched bottom, she found herself in front of an opening in the side
of the shaft, about a meter and a half high. When she turned the light
into it, a narrow passage was revealed, uneven-floored, and with
narrow places where the edges of the walls looked almost sharp
compared to the smooth, worn, hand-carved caves and occasional lava
tubes above. This looked more like limestone, or some other
water-carven caves...and in the light, moisture shone on the walls. In
the distance she could hear water.

Not stopping to think, she flipped the torch in her hand and activated
the small cutting flame--and cut the rope over her head. As it went
slack, she heard the expected reaction echoing from above.

"MEISAAL!"

She shone the light up waved it back and forth three times, then made
a beckoning motion with it.

"The hell I will! Now tie that rope back around you!"

Deanna beckoned again.

"There's not even room for us both to stand down there!"

In answer, Deanna shone the light at herself, then took a few steps
into the passageway, then turned around and came back, where she
beckoned with the light again.

"Meisaal, no! It's too dangerous! This is nothing to take lightly! If
there is a level below this one, I don't think anyone knows about it,
so if we get lost..."

Deanna folded her arms and leaned against the shaft wall, projecting
stubbornness through her body language again.

"No way. I'm through giving in. Look where it got you. Got us both."

Deanna was motionless.

Tuath made a noise of frustration that startled Deanna; just raising
her voice to be heard was unusual for Tuath, and the fear and anger in
her voice since Deanna cut the rope were surprising enough. Finally
Tuath said "There's more rope, and some already knotted, back up at
the ruin. DON'T MOVE!"

Deanna shone the light across herself and nodded.

"I don't believe this," Tuath steamed as she moved away.

Deanna was having a heck of a time obeying Tuath's injunction; the
water almost seemed to be calling to her and besides, being
underground in an unknown cavern alone was more disquieting than she'd
been expecting. Nothing she couldn't deal with, but uncomfortable all
the same.

She heard taps and clatters from above, finally, and a knotted rope
fell from overhead, the last couple of knots of which bonked her on
the skull. She moved into the passage entrance, out of the way, and
watched the rope shimmy around as Tuath descended.

When the younger woman got there, she had a lamp and a small bag slung
from her back. "I had to knot up a couple of the ropes and belay them
around the cistern. Took a few minutes." As the lamplight filled the
small chamber Deanna stood in, the pale walls were revealed darkened
and greyed, glimmering with water.

"Prophets..." Disbelieving, Tuath reached out and touched a wall,
bringing her hand back to examine it, as though not trusting her sense
of touch. "The connection to the cistern must have been broken,
settling or something like that. You *haven't* been any farther into
the passage, have you?"

Deanna shook her head emphatically.

Tuath steadied her with one hand and edged around her, after taking
the lamp off her back and holding it before them. "I'll go first."

Since she couldn't explain why she should go first, Deanna decided not
to fuss.

They had a little trouble at first; the passage seemed to have been
broken and shifted, possibly with the same settling that had closed
off the spring's channel to the cistern. But it was never too tight
for Tuath, with some stooping and wriggling, to get through.

It didn't extend far. In only a minute or so they found the water.
Deanna had expected a pool of some kind, but the current was a hair
too fast for the water to appear still on the surface. It burbled
softly in the heavy, dark air, it's lightless depths difficult to
determine even with the lamp shining in it.

The chamber it was in had a floor that shelved away in a gradual
upward slope, and there were gaps in the walls that might have been
passable. The most interesting feature of the cave, however, was the
fact that there was bedding and what appeared to be boxed and
otherwise stored supplies stacked at the high end.

Tuath was dumbstruck.

Deanna suspected they'd found Charity's home...or one of them, at
least.

She turned to the water and set the torch down nearby, then knelt and
sank her hands beneath the crystalline surface. As it slid
whisperingly between her fingers, her eyes slitted, and she felt a
curious sense of comfort, safety, quietude after a long time in
pandemonic noise; and a sort of detachment, a turning inward for lack
of outside stimuli...she had no idea if the feelings were her own,
coming to the surface in response to something she was receiving, or
if they belonged--or had once belonged--to someone else.

She sensed Tuath coming close, and felt the other woman's hand slide
into the water and close over hers. "Meisaal..."

Deanna opened her eyes and glanced up, relaxed, suffused with the
sense of rest. She turned back to the water, and, with her free hand,
lifted a little pool of it to her lips. She suspected strongly that
the water was potable, but knew better than to risk finding out the
hard way that it wasn't; she only touched her lips to the coolness,
then let it trickle between her fingers, drops shining in the
lamplight. She smiled, turned and touched her wet fingers to Tuath's
mouth, leaving glittering beads of moisture shining there.

Tuath's voice was almost inaudible, her face in shadow. "I don't want
to take advantage of you...you've been through so much--you have a
wife who loves you--"

Deanna touched the other woman's lips again, then drew a finger down
her temple to her cheekbone. She leaned up a little closer, feeling
the moisture in Tuath's breath as they came close. The kiss was soft,
tentative, unhurried. It fell away naturally, and Deanna slid over off
her heels to sit on the floor where she could put her arms around
Tuath's waist and rest her head on the younger woman's chest. Tuath
held her close, stroking her hair, much of which had come free of the
braid.

After a moment, Tuath murmured "Come on. I'll have to show you around
later; we need to get out of here. Someone who pretty obviously
doesn't like company is using this place."

Deanna nodded and squeezed Tuath gently, then let go and picked up the
torch, getting to her feet. She suspected that what she'd just done
seemed so appropriate for reasons having to do with being so receptive
to Tuath's feelings, and also with the fact that she was becoming
fonder all the time of the girl, and Tuath was too intelligent and
experienced to read anything terribly significant into a kiss and a
hug. In fact, it would likely serve to help her clarify her feelings
about Deanna, which had been getting, to Deanna's senses, a bit muddy.

The bag Tuath had brought down proved to contain anchors for the
looped and knotted rope belayed from the cistern above. Tying the rope
down would have made things easier, but there was nothing suitable
nearby for the purpose. Getting back up the shaft was a pretty major
pain, since there wasn't much room for knee and elbow work even for
Deanna, and Tuath had a really annoying time of it. She was silent,
though, even through the climb.

They reached the level above, somewhat scuffed and the worse for wear,
gathered up the ropes, returned the lamp to the cistern chamber and
made their way up and out of the caves below the Spire.

It was beginning to get dark. Not a significant problem, of course, or
they couldn't have left so late in the day; there was nothing in the
area that hunted at night--or for that matter, in the daytime. But
hanging around the Spires at night, at least at the moment, was a good
way to loose one's footing in the rocky landscape and a break a leg or
worse, and Tuath seemed to be in something of a hurry anyway.

---

It was full dark by the time they got back. Tuath conducted Deanna to
Norres's, then said "I can't tell you what to say to Luma, but when
you tell her about today...could you ask her to talk to me before she
tells anyone about what you found? I'm going to speak to Ansar about
it."

Deanna nodded readily and hugged her quickly, smiled and turned to go
in.

Kira was up in their room, messing with damp laundry. When Deanna came
in, she looked up and smiled. "Hi. Find anything interesting? Wait a
minute, look at this." She draped the shirt she'd been wringing out
across the line she'd strung and went to one of the packs, pulling out
a bag, which she held up to Deanna's gaze. "Ten bars of latinum. I may
switch jobs."

"I thought the traders weren't due until tomorrow."

"The Ferengi aren't; this was an unannounced bunch of Liseppians
looking for some very specific components--quite a number of which you
and I loaded into the truck's hold, day before yesterday."

"Quite a windfall."

"Not enough of one to make enemies, I hope. So how'd it go?"

"Quite intriguing." She related the finding of the spring and of the
apparent camp there.

"How'd you know to look under the ruined Spire?"

"Evekis Mosilan talked about a rumored chamber containing a carven
cistern in the bottommost chambers of that Spire."

"I don't get it. What did the cistern have to do with anything?"

"The hunch I told you about. I...remembered certain things which
seemed to indicate that I should look for water, and there's very
little of that around here."

"True enough. Okay, so you think Charity lives down there?"

"If she stays anywhere long. It looked more like a camp than a settled
abode. There was nothing there, really, that could indicate the
identity of an owner."

"Still...do you think we should stake the place out?"

"I think that would be difficult to explain, and we should probably be
paying more attention to the ships than to a campsite she may already
have abandoned. I didn't know what I'd find when I went looking; this
is interesting, but that may be all it is."

"Good to follow up on a strong hunch when you can, though. Want to
give me a hand here, or wash up yourself first?"

"I think I'd get the clothes all dusty. Let me get some water from the
kitchen, the tub likely isn't free. Is any of that latinum in slips?"

She came back with the water as Kira was leaving to dump out her own
bucket; by the time Kira returned, Deanna was scrubbing quickly,
before the hot water cooled off, with her soapy sponge. Kira got
another sponge and came to help.

"Hey!"

"What?"

"You hurt yourself again!"

"It's only a few scrapes on the knuckles and suchlike. Getting back up
that shaft wasn't easy. I imagine Tuath is in worse shape."

"She's supposed to make sure you don't get hurt."

"She wanted to climb out first and pull me up, but I started climbing
before she could stop me. I'm smaller than she is and it went much
faster for me. She did check me over when we were both out.
Nerys...I'm not Meisaal. I DO complain."

"But you have to act like Meisaal when you're out there...oh, the hell
with it. If you're all rinsed, bend over and I'll do your hair."

They went for some supper, received a few congratulations on Kira's
take, and came back up to the room to continue comparing notes.

"Like I said," Kira informed her, flopping back next to Deanna on the
thick bedroll, "I dropped it around in a few places that neither of us
have been to the site since yesterday afternoon. I managed to work it
in, talking with the traders and the people who asked me to take a
look at their projects, and everybody around at lunch heard me answer
Norres when she asked me if anything else had turned up since then. No
mentions of Charity, the Buried, or anything else directly relevant to
why we're here. How's it going with Tuath? Think you might get us to
the meeting? If there's going to be one."

"There likely will be a meeting, but Charity may or may not be there,
as we've discussed. I'm...not sure. I think that for two people like
Tuath and Meisaal, we've almost been flirting, for a while now, and
down in the spring chamber, we kissed."

"Woo-woo." Kira rolled over to prop up on her elbows and wag her
eyebrows in a Jadzialike fashion at Deanna. "How much of a kiss?"

"Like this." Deanna leaned over to her and demonstrated.

"Mmmm," Kira commented as Deanna lay back down and scooted in closer
to her. "Nice."

"It was, rather. My only worry has been whether she might not feel
betrayed when we go, but I think she sees things more clearly than
that--and if she didn't, she will now. Having done that makes it
impossible to ignore her feelings; she'll have to think about them and
make a decision of some kind."

"So you did it for her?"

"In part. It just seemed the thing to do, all the way around."

"Hm...well, tomorrow, we'd better get with it and decide what comes
next. If things start to heat up for us because of the incident at the
bay, or your finding the spring, we may have to get out of here
quick."

---

"Hi, Meisaal."

Deanna looked up from her tray and smiled at Tuath.

"I got you something." Tuath held out a cloth-wrapped bundle. Deanna
took it and began undoing the string ties with every evidence of
anticipation. What she pulled out was a soft white robe of some
flowing material that reminded her of cotton. She stood and held it up
to her; on, it would fall about halfway between her knees and her
ankles, and was slit at the sides for easy leg mobility, though it was
loose to the point of near-shapelessness. It closed with two frog
clasps, which would likely wind up positioned one just at her breasts
and the other over her upper abdomen.

"I know it isn't very practical," Tuath said, "but you don't seem to
like wearing heavy clothes all the time, and that'll keep the sun and
wind off you, as long as the winds not high enough to blow grit
into--"

Deanna hugged her in a flurry of white cloth and raced away to her and
Kira's room, where she took off the felted tunic she'd been wearing
and put the robe on over her pale canvas trousers and boots. The frogs
held it closed enough that it would take a serious gust of wind indeed
to expose anything but, possibly, her waist, which was good, because
wearing a bra in this heat was, for Deanna, an excercise in
get-this-soppy-disgusting-thing-off-me.

She ran back down to the kitchen and twirled in a circle for Tuath,
who acquired one of her rare smiles. Deanna took one sleeve in her
opposite hand and looked around in an exaggerated fashion, then back
at Tuath.

"Where'd I get it? Kula owed me a favor. Come on and finish your
supper."

Deanna sat back down with her and did so. She was aware that they were
being observed, with a bit of amusement from some directions, but more
people were startled at Tuath's behavior. Deanna gathered the younger
woman wasn't much for making new friends, particularly ones that were
as much work to communicate with as Meisaal. Or maybe it was just the
gift. Such gestures were probably rare to the point of nonexistence
here.

"I saw Luma coming from Ansar's; he told me he wants to talk to her
about the truck."

Deanna nodded and got up to take her tray to the washing sink.

---

"Ansar."

"Luma. Come on in."

Ansar's place was a small building, but it was all his and his two
roommates, and it was fairly comfortably furnished. It was also subtly
air-conditioned, the point being less to cool the air than to filter
out particles of floating desert. He showed her in and she had a seat
on a broad, heavily padded bench.

"Keevan just restocked the cooler. Kasre? Ilkat juice? Spring wine?"

Her eyes unfocused briefly. "You have...what vintage...? Never mind.
Prophets bless your house for ten generations. Spring wine."

He chuckled at her and went into an adjoining room, was back in a
moment with two glasses. Thanks to the way the vaporators worked, they
also served as passable ice boxes if you didn't try to attach too
large an insulated chamber, and the glasses were sweating with the
chill liquid they held. She forced herself to sip politely rather than
knocking the whole thing back in one ecstatic act of ingestion. "Mm,
perfect. Thanks."

"Well." He sat down across from her. "Like I said, I wanted to ask you
about the truck, and about a couple of other things."

"I think we can work something out, at least as far as the truck. What
else would you like to ask me about?"

"You may have noticed my deputy Tuath's taken an interest in your
wife..."

"Yeah, I had. Meisaal likes her. She's usually very shy." 'At least,
she used to be,' Kira reflected.

"I can imagine. Anyway, you also said once--when we met, I think Tuath
said--that you don't have a problem with the members of the Buried.
How do you feel about their purpose?"

"Why do you want to know?" she wondered, letting caution color her
expression.

"Because Tuath...to be perfectly frank, I think she wants to be able
to stay in contact with your wife. But she's too levelheaded to ask me
something like this if that were her only motivation; I believe her
when she says she's sure that even if you didn't want to join, you
wouldn't make trouble for us."

"You're Buried, too?"

"I'm more interested in accomplishing our aims...however it gets done,
rather than only through methods that involve the absolute
noncooperation the organization promotes and practices."

"I didn't think the Buried would tolerate that kind of an attitude in
one of their number. You're telling me there's...there's an auxiliary?
Of the *Buried*? You've got to be kidding."

"Not quite what I mean. I'd say something like...five percent of the
Buried are members like me, and if the Buried themselves don't know
about us, people outside us certainly aren't going to know we're here.
If we're in, we're in, as far as anyone knows. Like I said, we believe
the same things. But we will use...less obvious methods, if we think
they'll accomplish something quickly."

"Then we're taking a big risk here, both of us. You telling me, and me
having knowledge of a secret like that. And you're putting me in that
position because...?"

"I think you could be a lot of good for the organization. Meisaal too,
of course. I know we're moving damn quick in bringing this up to you
already, but we've been watching you since you got here, and you're
discreet, competent, you mind your own business...and maybe most
importantly, you have an extremely deep and extremely personal grudge
against the Cardassians, more so even than many Bajorans. You're also
not popular with Provisional, to say the least."

"Yeah, that dead Gul is turning into quite a millstone to drag around.
And you're right, having your wife brutalized for months at a time
will definitely paint an occupying force in a bad light."

"You have my sympathy, Luma. My own wife didn't survive. Neither did
our son."

"You have my sympathy, too."

"Okay, now that we've established that...I'm not very good at subtle
persuasion, and I'm not the most knowledgeable one around about what
we need. I've got a visitor right now, one of us who's in charge of
many of our major operations and can give you a better idea of what we
need, what you'll want to know before you make a decision. If I may?"

Kira nodded, setting her wine glass down and standing.

Ansar went into the adjoining room and up the stairs, and came back
down a moment later, followed by another set of footsteps. As he came
in, the extremely tall--over two meters--woman behind him was
unclipping and removing some sort of headgear--Kira managed to
recognize a set of night goggles, designed to enhance vision in
various levels of darkness. Ansar said "You'll understand if she
doesn't go by her real name--most of us can't pronounce it anyway,
she's not Bajoran. Luma Rahl, meet Charity. She's a former Maquis."

The goggles came off, ruffling the white hair such that Charity shook
her head a little to settle it before opening her eyes and looking up.

Her eyes were white.

The pupils were not shrunk to pinpoints by glare as they had been the
last time Kira had seen them, but the irises were obviously,
recognizably white, the height, slimness, the skin a dark olive...she
was the woman at the bombing of the Spires, the one who had helped
Kira and the Bajoran man lift people into the stable tower.

Kira was frozen. The woman obviously needed a great deal of light to
see well, and her own appearance was somewhat altered...

Charity started to speak, then stopped. She took one step, then
another, toward Kira, while Kira tried to keep her expression neutral.

She was no more than a few handspans from Kira, staring down at her.
Kira looked back, thinking irrelevantly that she might get a crick in
her neck in a moment.

Charity did speak. "Hello, Major," she whispered, barely loud enough
for Kira to hear her--then bolted for the door.

Ansar stumbled backward a step. "What the--" when Kira tried to get
around him to follow Charity, he seized her arm roughly. "She knows
you! Who the hell are you?"

"She's seen me, I know that--she's running because I used to be in the
militia! Before the Gul, before--let me go, I think I know where she's
going and I have to stop her!"

"Oh I'll let you go, all right--"

"You've got to trust me! I'm sorry, but--" she delivered a
stomp-chop-overhand combination that put Ansar in the floor
semiconscious and was out the door.

She skidded to a halt in the street; the evening light was long and
shadowy, and Charity was not to be seen.

She took off toward the yard like pagh wraiths were after her. She
didn't know if her parting words had fooled Ansar, or if there was a
reason beyond her own instincts to try to fool him, and she didn't
know if anyone but Charity knew about the ships at the yard--likely
not, judging by her reaction to Deanna's intrusion. Hopefully she
wouldn't be followed right away.

---

Tuath and Deanna were on their way to the shade rock toward the south
of town, which served as something of a gathering place in the
evenings. Tuath had wanted to introduce Deanna to some people she
knew.

"They're all okay, not like some of the people we met on rounds. But
if anything--Meisaal?"

Deanna had stopped walking and let go of Tuath's hand, her eyes
growing huge and vacant.

"What's the matter?" Tuath came back to her and took her shoulders,
tried to gently turn her chin up.

Deanna's countenance suddenly drew up in horror and she turned and
ran, north, toward the yard. Cursing under her breath, Tuath followed,
caught her, and demanded "What's the matter?"

Deanna struggled, then graveled out "Lai!"

Tuath dropped her hands, and Deanna took off again; Tuath, rather than
trying to stop her, this time simply followed the small rocketing
form, the robe billowing behind her like a storm-tossed sail.

---

Kira wasn't sure how much of a lead Charity had on her; she did know
that Charity's legs were a lot longer. She'd still had the goggles in
her hand, so the coming darkness shouldn't pose her a problem unless
she had to stop to put them on and gave Kira enough time to overshoot
her on the way to the bay. Pelting up the thoroughfare, she didn't see
any sign...she supposed it was possible Charity wasn't heading for the
bay, was planning instead to lie low--she didn't know that her
bolthole under the Spire had been found...then again, Tuath would have
told Ansar, and Ansar would have lost no time telling Charity.

Deanna was so seldom, if ever, wrong about people, yet she'd had no
inkling that Ansar was so intimately involved with terrorists. How
could she have missed that?

"Luma!"

She nearly stumbled, but she heard pelting steps behind her and to one
side and Tuath came up to run level with her. "What the HELL?"

"Where's Meisaal?"

"Right behind us. She...just...started running--what's--"

"Tuath, you've--you've got to let us handle this--go back to town,
don't say...say anything to Ansar--"

"Forget it..."

"Why'd I know you were...gonna say..."

Deanna suddenly sprinted past them and cut them off, angling into a
side street that led to a larger way that ran parallel to the
thoroughfare. Kira followed her at once, Tuath after a moment of
reconnoitering.

It was hard to hear anything but her own breath and pulse, their steps
pounding the dust-laden pavement, but Kira thought she could hear,
after another minute, a deeper sound, rumbling, like the feel of
breakers crashing on a beach below a cliff she stood on--and a
brilliant light shone about a kilometer away as a small ship rose into
view above the ruins of the shipyard. Thrusters engaged, it began,
velocity increasing, to move away across the desert to the southeast.

"What the living--"

"Charity!" Kira panted. Deanna was still running with no slackening of
determination, so Kira did, too.

"WHAT?!"

"I--she thinks she's in danger! We have to stop her, there's no
telling what she'll do!"

"What do you mean?"

"She could be desperate, and she's already done--damn it--" Deanna had
changed course again, was no longer heading for the entrance to the
bay they'd seen so far.

Kira saw why when the reached the location. The huge launch doors were
still open, and Deanna was flying around their perimeter to the
opposite side; following, they watched her begin to descend the stairs
that led off the walkway, invisible under the dust, that surrounded
the doors. None too soon; they started to close automatically just as
Kira and Tuath reached them.

The stairs gave them a chance to catch up. Kira tried to grab Deanna's
shoulder, but the soft material of the robe was too smooth. "What is
it, Deanna? We'll never hotwire one of these things before she can
get--"

Ignoring her, Deanna darted up to one of the ships--it was a
Loglor-class small general transport--stood there with an agonized
look on her face, then tapped six keys in quick succession. The door
slid open and internal power activated.

Tuath was pretty dumbstruck, and Kira was hoping they could get into
the ship and get the door shut before she came out of it, but no such
luck; she dove and was inside even before Kira could get there. Deanna
had run to the console to open the doors again, then charged back
down, entered the ship and run up to the front to take the pilot's
seat. Kira joined her. She'd never flown a Loglor-class, but the
control design was basic, no suspires...and yes, the copilot's station
was already configured for weapons systems.

"Luma, would you mind telling me--"

"Tuath, sit down and hang on. We don't have time right now."

The ship rose into the desert-evening air; Deanna touched a control
and they shot off across the great flat expanse. "Have you got her?"
Deanna said. There was a small stir behind them from Tuath, but the
girl remained silent.

"I've got her. She's not in a Cardassian ship, though. That's a
resistance fighter, an impulse raider, and how she got her hands on
one I don't know--I didn't think there were any left."

"An impulse ship...? Whether she knew we'd be able to follow her or
not, why didn't she take one of the warp-capable vessels? She must be
planning to head for the wormhole."

"I don't know, but I do know that she's staying only four kilometers
over the planet's surface, and that raider is about three times more
maneuverable than we are. And, at sublight, antigravs and thrusters,
it's just as fast."

"Firepower?"

"We've got the advantage there--" Deanna swung them in a hard arc,
throwing Tuath out of her seat and making Kira grab the board's edge.
"What'd I tell you about maneuverability? Next to that raider we're
flying a brick."

"Then she's counting on that maneuverability to prevent us from
landing a shot on her."

"Either that, or to make sure she lands enough shots on us first to
keep our guns from being a problem for her. Another thing; that ship
might be remarked on--and as soon as we get anywhere near
habitation--probably Maith Al--it will. But she may be able to bluff
her way past the authorities in that ship, or maybe she's even got a
current ID signal coded in. This thing, on the other hand..."

"She won't go near habitation," Tuath said softly. She'd gotten back
into her chair only to be thrown out again at Deanna's next hairpin
turn, and was climbing back up.

"What?" Kira turned and looked at her. "Why not?"

"Someone might get hurt."

"I guess Ansar hasn't told you much about our friend out there.
Hurting people isn't something she has a problem with. We're going to
have to take her out before she can get to Maith Al, Deanna. We could
wind up with fires set by the guns, burst eardrums--"

"Hang on!" Deanna shouted, and the structure of the ship groaned just
below the level of hearing as she followed the raider into what her
father would have called an Immelman.

"Deanna!"

"I said hang on!"

At the roll-out at the top of the Immelman, the raider--visible only
barely to the eye, mostly on scanner viewscreens--suddenly cut power
and dropped like a stone.

"On antigrav!" Deanna shouted; she slewed the craft in a midair skid,
cutting their forward motion as half their readout data dropped out.
"Where is she?!"

"Ah--wait a second--got her! Mark eight three five, due west--heading
for the mountains, about half a kilometer altitude! God damn it,
Charity, cut it with the aerobatics and RUN already!"

"I have a--feeling--" Deanna paused as everyone got sucked toward the
floor when she pulled out of her dive, "--that she doesn't want to
run. She wants to lose us, or--" she cut off as the craft ahead banked
what looked like, from their position, a ninety-degree turn back to
the south and Deanna managed to use their scant few seconds of warning
to curve into the same course without ripping the ship in half.

"If you'd had helm control on the D saucer," Kira muttered, "there'd
still be a D saucer. You've got a point, she may be hoping we'll fly
ourselves into the ground trying to keep her in range. Speaking of
which she's heading back toward the--" Deanna frantically boosted the
aft thrusters as the raider abruptly accelerated exponentially toward
the mountains.

"Damn it, she knows we'll never follow her through that--Deanna,
you've got to get some altitude!"

"We could lose her!"

"We're gonna lose her anyway, but she can't hide in there forever--"
her words were lost in a near-shriek as Deanna reached over her head
and hit a key--and there was no outside, it was only a dark blur, and
the scanner screens went into a riot of data overload, all of which
lasted for a split second--

"We're between her and the mountains," Deanna said grimly. "Everyone
all right?"

"YOU TOOK US TO IMPULSE!"

"We had to get there before she did."

"We could have taken out a mountain if we'd hit it!"

"We didn't! Where is she?"

"She's...three kilometers aft starboard, one-sixty degrees--"

"Coming about." Deanna suited action to word.

Kira said "I'm arming phasers before she--firing!"

The beams lanced out across the darkness; the scanner screens showed
the raider first rock violently around the axis of its course, then
shoot back due south--then set course up and out.

"That did it," Kira said, "she's running. I only hope she doesn't pull
a Buried suicide and crash into the Capitol."

"She won't," Tuath said.

"*Why* do you say that?" Kira asked. "Don't you know who she--"

"I'm broadcasting our identity to Patrol," Deanna said. "I know it's
probably too late, but if we can get some help from the Militia..."

"No," Kira said, "from the station! They're still between her and the
wormhole--don't lose her!"

"I can't lose her now, we know where she's going--but if she can dodge
us until she gets there...I'll stay on her, you keep trying to disable
her ship."

"Right. Where's the...here. Frequency--DAMN it! Look at that--no,
don't look. Subspace is out."

"Lightspeed radio, then."

"Mmmm...yeah, we won't reach the station in time with that, but it
might not be a total waste of time to contact patrol with the
lightspeed again."

For about fifteen minutes after speaking with a patrol squad leader,
who was now checking with his superiors for instructions, there was
nothing but soft cursing, Kira's attempts to knock subspace into shape
and raise the station, muttered communiqués between Deanna and Kira,
and a sick and stony silence from Tuath. Deanna kept the raider in
sight--except one point when it dodged behind the fourth moon where
the planetary generator was--and Kira kept firing, though she managed,
with the Cardassian weapon locks, only a few glancing hits that didn't
seriously inconvenience the raider, except in being a major
distraction for the pilot.

Kira mentioned to Deanna "I think the reason she hasn't fired at us
is, maybe, that she can't--the sub-impulse raiders that are pretty
much the same thing as that ship, only with less engine, aren't set up
for the pilot to be able to run the guns. It could be different on the
impulse raiders, but--"

"I'm picking something up. Take a look."

"It's a runabout! I hope they've got their standard broadbeam monitors
up, I'm gonna hail them. Major Kira Nerys aboard Loglor-class
Cardassian vessel to Starfleet runabout, please respond." She paused a
moment, then said "Repeat, this is Major Kira Nerys of the Bajoran
Militia to Starfleet runabout. Please res--"

"Nerys?!"

"Jadzia!"

"Who's that you're chasing?"

"It's the Buried terrorist who bombed the Spires, and Evekis--"

"She DIDN'T bomb the Spires!" Tuath shouted suddenly.

Beverly Crusher's voice came over the comm. "That's why we're
here--about Evekis, we found something that you--"

Deanna cut in "Beverly? What? What did you find?"

"We don't have time for that right now!" Kira insisted. "One of us has
got to disable that ship or beam that pilot out of there! You have a better chance of getting a lock than we do, so I'll try to take out her shields and--"

"Wait," Tuath interrupted again, "you've got to listen to me! Let her go! You don't understand what she--why she--"

"We know about her political agenda," Kira began as Deanna started driving hard for the raider, trying to herd it away from its course to the wormhole and back toward the runabout. "Deanna, if we can get a tractor on it, we might have enough power to limit it's movement so that Jadzia can get a--"

"I can't lock on it, it's moving like a waterskater--"

"NO!" Tuath screamed, jumping to her feet. "Charity would never hurt innocent people!"

"How the hell do you know that?" Kira finally snapped, turning to face her.

"Because I'm Charity!" Tuath expostulated, then slumped against the board next to her, in tears.

Deanna slowly turned in her chair, the controls forgotten, then rose and went to Tuath.

"Damn it, Deanna, she's just--"

"No. She isn't just. Keep after the raider. Get Jadzia and Beverly to help you. Tuath and I will be in the aft cabin." She helped Tuath up--the younger woman wouldn't look at her--and they both proceeded aft.

Growling, Kira turned back to her controls, picking up navigation too. "Jadzia, I'm about to throw a wide-field tractor out there. It might slow the raider up enough for you to get a shot in, knock it hard enough to make the sheilds shudder and give you a chance to beam the pilot out. We want her alive...but take any measures necessary to keep her from reaching the wormhole."

"I'm with you, Nerys."

---

"You are telling part of the truth," Deanna said softly, "but not all of it."

"I'm one up on you, then."

"We can discuss that later. For now, you're safe; neither Major Kira nor I--"

"'Major' Kira?" Tuath's mouth half-quirked in sardonic humor.

"--would allow you to come to any harm."

"And what's *your* name, Meisaal? Does it start with 'Lieutenant'? 'Colonel'?"

"I'm Commander Deanna Troi, Starfleet, Starship Enterprise."

Tuath stared at her a moment, her narrow, impenetrable gaze focused
on Deanna's eyes. "You aren't even Bajoran."

"As I said, we can discuss this later. For now, we need to know what
you know. Why is it you're Charity--and yet not Charity?"

"I'm not telling you anything. Except that that woman out there is the
best thing to happen to the Buried since the end of the Occupation,
and if you want someone to blame something on...you can blame me."

"Deanna!" Kira called. "Get back up here, we've got a lock!"

Deanna glanced to the front of the ship, then looked back at Tuath.
"As I said--you're safe."

Tuath looked away, silent.

---

The End