The Battle Of Betazed Part 8

The rest of her thoughts she shielded to herself. If the Jem'Hadar suspected Okalan was a member of a rebel group, they'd torture him for information. Both the Dominion and Carda.s.sians were experts at painful interrogation, and although Okalan was strong and dedicated, she had no a.s.surance he could withstand his captors' brutalizing tactics. If he broke, he might give away the location of their stronghold, and, G.o.ds forbid, the terrible secret of Hent Tevren.

With the cavat farmer in the lead, they raced along the narrow wilderness path worn by the beasts they hoped to avoid. Branches whipped Lwaxana's face until it stung with lacerations, and she stumbled over rocks and tendrils of vine, but she refused to slow her pace. Only once, when her cloak caught on a bush of tarna thorns, did she stop and force herself to unhook it carefully. The least sc.r.a.p of fabric would alert an enemy patrol to their presence in the area. With her garment freed, she sprinted after the others, ignoring the st.i.tch in her side and the painful compression of her lungs as she struggled for air. On one occasion she heard beasts crashing through the underbrush, but the sounds led away from them toward the river, not the village.

The tiny group maintained their draining pace for over an hour until the farmer stopped and held up his hand to signal a halt.

The village is just ahead, he announced.

Take us to where the forest comes closest to the community hall, Lwaxana instructed. We can't risk being seen.

I played in these woods as a child, the blacksmith said. Follow me. I know the way.

The glow of village lights was barely visible through the trees, and the only sounds the occasional barking of dogs and the rustle of a gentle wind through the overhanging branches. Lwaxana followed the men, at one point dropping to all fours to creep through the vines that blocked their way.

After several minutes of tedious travel, the blacksmith motioned them to stop. The community hall is over there, he said, pointing east through the trees.

I can't see it, Enaren grumbled.

If we move any closer, the blacksmith said, anyone at the community hall can see us.

Then I'll have to try from here. Lwaxana settled on a nearby tree stump, drew her cloak around her against the encroaching chill, and opened her mind. Okalan, are you there?

The answering blast of agony and fear almost knocked her to the ground. Lwaxana, is that you?

Yes, I'm here, in the woods near the village hall. Where are you?

The pain of his injuries cascaded through her, setting up sympathetic responses along her nerve endings. Her entire body vibrated from the shared agony. A glance at the men who accompanied her indicated they had not picked up Okalan's thoughts.

Okalan's nearby, she told them, and in horrible pain.

They have me in the hall, Okalan managed to send through his suffering.

The ryetalyn, she asked. What happened to it?

When they brought me here, there was a Carda.s.sian officer, Gul Lemec. He took the ryetalyn and poured it into the dirt.

Lwaxana suffered a spasm of grief for the dying children at the stronghold, then turned her thoughts back to Okalan. We'll try to get you out.

It's no use. I'm half dead already. The gul suspects my involvement in the resistance. They've tortured me for information, but so far I've denied everything.

Lwaxana sensed not only Okalan's pain, but the weakening of his spirit. His torturers would keep him alive and in excruciating distress until he told them what they wanted to know.

We'll get you free- Lwaxana began.

No! Okalan's refusal was powerful, in spite of his injuries. They've gouged out my eyes. My fingernails are gone. And they've pa.s.sed more electrical current through me than I ever thought a body could endure. There's only one thing to do for me now, and for yourselves.

Lwaxana refused to consider what he was suggesting. Okalan, no.

Dammit, listen to me. My interrogators just left. They'll give me time to recover to keep me alive. Then they'll begin again. Before they took my eyes, I saw an open window in this room. Every ten minutes, a Jem'Hadar sentry pa.s.ses and checks on me. One is almost due. If you kill me as soon as he pa.s.ses, you'll have ten minutes to escape before the next sentry sounds the alarm.

Tears sprang to Lwaxana's eyes. Okalan must have sensed her anguish.

Lwaxana ... don't make me beg you.

Lwaxana turned to Enaren. He had sensed much from hearing her side of the conversation, but when she told him Okalan's request, the blood drained from his ruddy face. His lips trembled for a moment, then he squared his shoulders and met Lwaxana's gaze. He's right. We have no choice.

Steeling herself, Lwaxana held out her hand to the cavat farmer. Give me your blow gun.

Enaren pushed her hand aside and removed his own weapon. Okalan's my oldest friend. I'll do it.

Before Lwaxana could protest, Enaren slipped through the underbrush toward the clearing. In what seemed only seconds, Lwaxana felt Okalan's grat.i.tude and relief that his old friend was ending his life, his pain, and any chance that he might break and betray those he loved.

Okalan welcomed death the way he'd lived, fearlessly, bravely, and with dignity. Wrenching sadness at the loss of a good man tore Lwaxana's heart. Okalan's thoughts slowed, emotions dimmed, then ceased for all eternity.

It's done. Enaren's grief at the loss of his friend and his rage at the Jem'Hadar were palpable.

Let's get back, Lwaxana ordered when Enaren reappeared, tears streaming down his aged cheeks. To herself she thought, We have a vigil to hold for a dying child.

Chapter Eight.

A S THE TRANSPORTER EFFECT TOOK THEM, Deanna felt certain that the Defiant was shaking under weapons fire. But when she solidified on the planet's surface, she stood intact with the other members of her team in a field of cavat that towered high above their heads.

Before anyone could move, Vaughn spoke quietly. "Jem'Hadar patrol. Four of them on the road about one hundred meters ahead."

Deanna heard the heavy boots of the Jem'Hadar tromping closer on the adjacent road. At the ominous rumble, her muscles tensed and her mouth went dry. Above her, high thin clouds rippled across the scarlet sky, and the morning sun hung low and bright on the horizon. A hawk wheeled overhead, and close by, the melodic trill of a songbird provided an ironic counterpoint to the sinister tread of the approaching enemy patrol.

"Act natural," Vaughn ordered the away team in a soft voice.

"Respectfully, sir," Data said with a puzzled frown, "how does one act naturally in a cavat field?"

"First, don't call me sir," Vaughn responded quietly. "Then try picking cavat."

Deanna forced a smile and reached for the nearest ear of cavat, a Betazed staple comparable to Terran corn, and tried to ignore the trembling of her hands. Her previous encounters with Jem'Hadar had been at a distance in ship-to-ship fighting. She expected her first face-to-face meeting to be intimidating, to say the least.

Data shrugged, then gamely grabbed a ripened ear, wrenched it easily from the stalk, and glanced around. "We need a container."

Deanna unwound her wide scarf and held it in front of her. "Will this do?"

"You are very resourceful." Data dropped the cavat into the scarf and reached for another ear.

"When I was a little girl," Beverly said in a bright and animated tone with only a slight quaver of nervousness, "my grandmother had a huge garden. One of the high points of the year was the first ripened corn. Grandma Howard would start water boiling on the stove, and I would pick the corn and rush it straight inside to the waiting pot. That hot corn dripping with fresh b.u.t.ter was the sweetest thing I've ever tasted."

"As good as chocolate?" Deanna asked in disbelief.

"Uh-huh," Beverly said, "but in a different way."

"Good," Vaughn murmured, "keep up the chatter." Then louder he added, "We should take some cavat back to the city for lunch. As hungry as I am, I don't know if we can carry enough." Vaughn's deep, hearty laugh echoed through the field and sent the nearby songbird into flight, squawking in protest. The others-even Data, who had engaged his emotion chip in order to blend in more easily-joined in the laughter.

Maintaining a patter of meaningless small talk, the team quickly gathered two dozen ears and secured them in Deanna's makeshift sack. Data swung the heavy bundle easily onto his back.

"Let's head for the road," Vaughn ordered quietly. "We'll seem less suspicious if we show ourselves to the patrol. Deanna, if they stop us, you do the talking. You're more familiar with the planet than the rest of us. But everyone remain alert. If they give us trouble, we'll have to take them out."

Take them out?

The idea of hand-to-hand combat with the Jem'Hadar wiped Deanna's mind suddenly blank, and she could recall nothing Vaughn had taught her. She could only hope that he'd drilled her so thoroughly, she would react immediately and instinctively if the time came.

The group made their way along one of the furrows, their boots gouging the earth and filling the air with the pungent scent of rich loam. In the peaceful natural setting, Deanna would have found the interstellar war raging in the heavens around them hard to believe if she hadn't been a veteran of so many conflicts.

Searching the skies, she prayed she'd been wrong in suspecting the Defiant had come under attack. The Daronan atmosphere had revealed no evidence of a conflict-no ma.s.sive explosions, no trails of smoking debris, but that meant nothing.

With Deanna in the lead, the away team stepped from the field onto the hard-surfaced road. None of them glanced toward the Jem'Hadar patrol fast approaching from the east. With luck, Deanna thought, her team could continue west toward Jarkana without drawing attention. A group of farmers, cl.u.s.tered around a wagon drawn by st.u.r.dy Daronan oxen, trudged ahead of her. If she and the rest of the team hurried, they could blend in with the crowd.

"Halt!" a harsh voice behind them ordered.

Deanna stopped and turned. Beverly paused on one side of her, Data and Vaughn on the other. Deanna caught sight of the commander and blinked in surprise. If she hadn't known better, she would have sworn Vaughn was a changeling. The tall officer had shrunk inside his coat, seemingly losing inches in height, his posture suddenly projecting only feeble harmlessness.

She had little time to appreciate Vaughn's metamorphosis before she found herself almost toe-to-toe with the Jem'Hadar leader. The members of his patrol, weapons drawn and aimed at the away team, waited a few feet away.

"What are you doing here?" the patrol leader demanded.

"Picking cavat." At Deanna's first up-close confrontation with a Jem'Hadar, she was struck foremost by the immensity of the soldier, and next by the fierceness of his appearance. His cobbled skin, pierced with protruding bones like rows of teeth, reminded her of pebbles on a rocky beach. With his ashen complexion, gray uniform, and huge size, she figured fighting a real Jem'Hadar would seem the equivalent of attacking a small mountain.

His emotions and those of his group bombarded her, and the soldiers made no attempt to hide them. She sensed dedication to the Founders, contempt for their foes, and an eagerness for combat. She hoped she could defuse the last.

"The cavat in this field is harvested by machines," the Jem'Hadar leader said with suspicion. "You don't belong here. Present your ID chips."

Deanna's mind whirled. If she couldn't come up with a convincing explanation, her team would have to fight its way out. Vaughn might be able take down one of the soldiers, if he could reach one before being shot, and Data with his superhuman strength could probably handle two, but she wasn't convinced she and Beverly together could disable the fourth without their weapons.

Estimating how long she would need to retrieve the phaser concealed under her coat, Deanna pointed to Vaughn, who was staring at his feet. "See my senile father there?" She shifted her attention to Data. "And my brainless brother? If we had brought our IDs with us, they would have lost theirs. My sister," she nodded to Beverly, "and I do well just to keep up with these two simpletons, much less keep track of bureaucratic red tape. If you wish to follow us into the city, however, I'll retrieve our credentials from our home."

The patrol leader frowned but held his fire. Perhaps he saw no glory for the Founders in vaporizing two dullards and a couple of women, although Deanna sensed his willingness to kill them all where they stood.

"What's in the bundle?" He pointed to Data's back.

With the back of her hand, Deanna whacked Data in the ribs and swallowed a grunt of pain at the impact of her hand against his bioplast sheeting. "Hey, idiot. Show this soldier our cavat."

Falling easily into his simpleton role, Data set the bundle on the road and with irritating slowness, untied the scarf. With the knot free, cavat rolled in every direction.

"Now see what you've done," Deanna yelled and cuffed Data on his ear. "You've bruised it, and it won't be fit to eat."

Another of the Jem'Hadar approached and poked at the cavat with his rifle. Apparently convinced the vegetable was what it appeared to be, he moved back into his position with the patrol.

"Where do you live in the city?" the leader demanded.

"Near the prison," Deanna said. "My family and I work as domestics in Director Lanolan's home and on the grounds."

She held her breath, wondering if it would be her last or if their charade as a dysfunctional family had convinced the Jem'Hadar they were harmless.

"Next time you venture out," the Jem'Hadar said with a snarl, "have your ID chips, or we won't hesitate to shoot you."

"Yes, sir," Deanna said meekly. "Thank you, sir. May we go? We want to catch up with our friends." She motioned to the farmers who had moved quickly ahead on the Jarkana road.

The patrol leader waved them forward. With uncharacteristic clumsiness, Data rebundled the cavat and slung it on his back. Beverly offered Vaughn the support of her arm, and the away team started toward Jarkana as fast as Vaughn's limping old-man pace would allow. The Jem'Hadar patrol pivoted and headed in the opposite direction into the countryside.

"Nice work, Deanna," Vaughn said.

"Thanks. I'm sorry, Data, that I had to hit you."

"The blow was very convincing," Data said, "but it did not hurt me. I am certain, however, the same cannot be said for you."

Deanna gingerly ma.s.saged her bruised hand. "You give a whole new meaning to the term thick-skinned."

Beverly flashed her a grin. "You're quite an actor."

Data nodded in agreement. "Once this war is ended, you must partic.i.p.ate more often in our dramatic presentations. You would make a fine Kate in The Taming of the Shrew."

Once this war is ended ...

Deanna wondered how many of them would live to see that day-or if they would want to if the Jem'Hadar continued to hammer the Federation. She had just experienced a small but extremely unpleasant taste of what living under Dominion rule would be like.

Once the patrol had disappeared, Vaughn straightened and picked up his pace. Soon the away team caught up with the band of farmers headed for market and trailed in their wake. Even at a quick walk, Deanna had time to study the countryside. Much was as she remembered from seventeen years earlier, but here and there among Darona's rolling fields and efficient farms were blackened swaths of scorched earth where a crop had been burned or a building destroyed, ugly reminders of the Dominion occupation.

If Darona, with only a small garrison of Jem'Hadar, was this scarred, she thought with a sinking heart, what had fifty thousand Jem'Hadar done to Betazed?

Emotions from the group of farmers drifted back to her, with fear the most prevalent, especially in the younger children who had not yet developed the capacity to shield their feelings. Although a few adults laughed and joked among themselves, Deanna sensed their efforts at making the best of a terrifying situation.

Upon nearing the city, both vehicle and foot traffic slowed, and the away team found itself detained at the end of a long line.

"Traffic jam?" Beverly asked.

Data rose on tiptoe to see over the crowd ahead of him. "It is a checkpoint. A Vorta is supervising a group of soldiers searching those entering the city."

A sudden stillness descended on the crowd.

"No, please," a man's voice cried out. "It's my fault. Don't-"

Weapons fire flashed ahead of them. The crowd stifled a collective gasp, and the group's horror and revulsion enveloped Deanna like a choking cloud.

"What happened?" Beverly asked.

Deanna couldn't speak. She'd felt exactly what had transpired, and the horror of it threatened to overwhelm her.

Data, who had been studying the scene intently, reported, "They discovered a weapon on the farmer. The Jem'Hadar shot his entire family."