Fic Post: Creeping Dark
Title: Creeping Dark
Author: vegawriters
Fandom: Star Trek: DS9
Series: Tears of the Prophets
Pairing: None
Rating: Gen
Timeframe: Pre-Series
A/N: There is a lot of discussion about whether the occupation began in 2309 or 2318. In some places, it’s referenced as a 60 year occupation, in some a 50 year, in some it is a 60 year timeline where the violence began 10 years after the Cardassians arrived. In the Terok Nor books (Day of the Vipers, Night of the Wolves, Dawn of the Eagles), which give a fascinating look into Bajoran society as the Cardassians arrived, things get going in 2318. I’m definitely drawing inspiration from those books, but I’ve always fallen more into the idea that the Cardassians had more of a presence early on and it ramped up - so much so that, like with many fascist dictatorships - you don’t realize where you are until it’s just too late.
Disclaimer: Star Trek is owned by CBS/Viacom, etc. I’m just here writing out these characters and trying to make the world make sense. But a girl loves to write and has tons of ideas ...
Summary: You’ve heard the news outlets - that the problems are only the work of a few bad ketterpods in the barrel. They are here for us as a workforce. This was calculated, this was intended, and it is possibly too late to stop it.
City of Hathon, Dakurh Province
Bajor
Federation Time Structure: 2313
The silence at night was different lately. Instead of the peace that came with the rising of Jaraddo and the faint reflection of the Denorius Belt in the sky, there was a restlessness, an expectation of waiting for some vague terror to emerge from the shadows. Ghost stories of childhood come to life, haunting the recesses of the subconscious.
Five years ago, the first Cardassians had beamed down to the Capital. Standing tall in their military gear, shining like carien roaches in the sun. It wasn’t the first contact they’d had with their quadrant neighbors, of course not. On some of the border worlds, there were even colonies with Cardassians and Bajorans living and working together. But this … this presence on Bajor was different. Permanent, perhaps. Why were they even here? And why didn’t Bajor have a presence on Cardassia?
Slowly, subtly, life on Bajor was changing. Fewer people gathered on porches or around fires. Restaurants were subdued and more and more shops were closing while rents were rising. The silence from the Hall of Ministers only led to further frustration. What the hell was happening in the Capitol and why did it feel like the Cardassians were somehow involved? With each passing day, more people needed help and it seemed there were fewer and fewer resources to assist.
And now, the outlets said tonight, they had a confirmed case of a new strain of virus in Reliketh. One that left people struggling to breathe and that seemed to be resistant to traditional medications. But, everything was under control and their new Cardassian allies had new technology to help fight off the illness.
How convenient.
In Dakurrh, things were tense, but relatively unscathed. So far.
Kira T’vani still spent her nights on her front stoop, watching the moons rise. Once Meru was settled in for sleep, tucked in her small bed for the night, T’vani would slip outside and watch the stars, hoping against hope for Dresa’s return. Like so many who worked off-world, he was gone for months and even years at a time. But before, there had always been letters home. The last time he had seen Meru, she was not yet walking, and there had been no communication for months. Officially, he was listed as missing and the Ministry had told her to not expect his return.
So, T’vani’s days were spent dividing her attention between her daughter and her canvas, but with each passing day, it was harder to paint or sculpt. Her pieces were stilted, childlike. More and more, her distraction took her to the comm boards, she she lost hours of work time scrolling through social board posts.
Another ship vanished between here and the colonies.
Did you see the Minister never leaves the grounds anymore?
There’s political unrest in Ativa. Ativa! They’ve been middle of the road and status quo since before the New Age.
The news outlets aren’t reporting how bad it is in Relekith and that it might have spread to Rikantha.
The artist in her knew that political and religious cycles were a part of history, a part of life. She knew that change made people nervous. But -
Does anyone else find it strange that the Cardassians showed up with a flock of military vessels, saying they just needed some assistance, and that they’ve stayed …
Vedek Tovah was found dead outside the gardens in Mombassa. She’d been violated.
T’Vani’s art lately had been full of gray-green color choices and canvasses rimmed with black and silver. Everything was abstract, unfocused … scared. Vedek Krehl would tell her to embrace the fear, but Vedek Krehl usually said things like that when T’vani was cycling her fears regarding Dresa’s disappearance. Or when she was preaching in the temple about the end of the d’jarras and how crucial it was that Bajor officially leave behind a policy that so many ignored anyway. Those interpretations of the Prophecies were part of a different time and to move forward, Bajor needed to cast off this last shackle. The criticism was fair that Krehl had started preaching this way after a visit from the Federation, who disapproved of caste based structures in their governing body.
A window to her right opened and T’vani glanced over to see her neighbor lean out of the building that housed both of their apartments. “You should come and join me,” she said to Bareil Fasa. “It’s a nice night and the sewer bugs are all snug in their beds for once.” Below her on the walk, a carien roach skittered across the pavement. “Okay, most of them.”
The garden shop owner laughed. “Bugs are the least of my worries right now. The cariens do their job in the sewers and as long as they don’t come inside, I’m fine with them.” A careful pause. “How are you?”
“Blocked. Everything is gray and silver.”
“How’s Meru?”
T’vani smiled. “Perfect.”
Fasa was quiet for a moment and T’vani looked out into the street to see a skimmer with two Cardassian soldiers sail by. Once the street was clear, Fasa let out a breath. “Another warship arrived today, did you hear?”
“I honestly haven’t paid much attention to anything but the feeds.”
“Feeds is where I heard it.” Fasa fell silent and T’vani realized her neighbor was coming out to join her on the stoop. A few minutes later, Fasa appeared, a gray altrec tossed loosely over her hair and shoulders, and handed her a mug of tea as she sat down. “You need to water the basha plant I gave you,” the other woman said, nodding at the potted plant on the stairs. T’Vani nodded. “There’s a leak out of the Ministry,” Fasa continued, changing the subject. “Apparently the Federation negotiators are gone. The potential of a treaty was never serious and apparently the Cardassians made some noise about their territory and there wasn’t a whisper again.”
“How do you know this?” T’vani looked out at the street, watching for skimmers. Across the street, a group of laborers made their way toward the transport platforms.
“Just the feeds, honestly, which, yes, I know are mostly rumor. But they are pretty accurate lately. There’s a few posters who are in the administration.” Fasa paused and sipped her tea. T’Vani watched the moons. “There is talk of organizing,” she said quietly. “Talk of forming a resistance. Some are calling for more transparency and possibly an election. People want the Cardassians gone.”
A resistance? T’Vani inhaled the sweet scent of her tea. “I’ve seen the calls for the election. That won’t go anywhere,” T’vani said. “But the minister has …”
A skimmer flew by. Stopped. Came back. Hovered. T’Vani’s mind flashed to the feeds, to the rumors. She forgot what she was going to say about the minister. She just waited. Staring at them, watching the disappearing forms of the laborers. Would the Cardassians harass them?
Young girls are going missing in Dakurrh. Someone saw a Cardassian soldier grab two girls on their way home from classes.
“Tesk,” Fasa cursed. “We should get inside.”
“I’m not letting them scare me off my porch,” T’vani retorted. “They aren’t law enforcement. They are guests on our planet. This is my home.”
“They shot someone the other day …”
“Then they should get off our planet.” T’vani stared at the skimmer, daring it to come closer. It didn’t. But as it flew off, her stomach twisted in knots. What did Fasa know about the resistance movement? Was it real or just angry people on the feeds? “There is a reason Bajor hasn’t involved itself with other planets,” T’vani said after a long moment. “And it isn’t just because the Prophets …”
The skimmer was back.
Fasa tensed. T’vani stared, waiting.
“It’s because,” she forced herself to keep talking, “other cultures shoot first.”
Fasa didn’t reply and T’vani didn’t blame her. They just sat next to each other on the stoop, watching the skimmer watch them. Eventually it powered up and flew off into the night and T’vani let out a breath. As much as she hated to admit it, she wasn’t that much a fan of offworlders. Especially these offworlders. “How am I supposed to raise Meru with those lizards around?” T’vani finally asked. “How am I supposed to …”
Again they lapsed into silence.
“There’s a meeting,” Fasa finally said, “of people who are worried and want to know what’s going on. There’s disturbing news from some of the colonies. Some people believe the missing ships aren’t just going off course.”
So. Fasa had brought up the resistance for a reason. She was being tested. “They’re being captured,” T’vani filled in the gaps. “Of course they are.” She set the cup of tea down and watched a sewer bug skitter down past the stairs. “There’s been reports for years that the Cardassians are always looking for people to work in their mines.”
Fasa leaned against her. “Come to the meeting. You can bring Meru. We’ve got someone who watches the kids. Something is happening and I know that the majority thinks we’re all crazy and xneophobic, but … something is happening. We all know it. Bajor herself feels it.”
T’vani nodded and let her own altrec fall loose around her shoulders. Her friend was right. “All right,’ she said. “I’ll come.”
***
It made sense to have this meeting at the monastery. No one questioned people coming for services, or staying after. The grounds were there for contemplation, for communion. Still, T’Vani couldn’t focus on the service and Meru’s natural distraction only irritated her. Finally Vedek Toleth stopped talking and everyone moved to the grounds, comfortable, conversational.
Fasa came over, a smile on her face. “Enjoy services?”
“Not really …” T’Vani set Meru down, suddenly questioning why she was here. What was this? She had a daughter to raise and art to perfect and maybe they were all just overreacting. What was she doing here? But she saw Fasa’s eyes move to Toleth so she let out a sigh. “I’m just distracted today.”
“Some days it’s so much harder than others to concentrate,” Fasa replied. “I have an idea, why don’t you let Meru play with the other kids. Kala has offered to take them all down to the sculpture gardens.”
T’Vani understood. Keep it normal. Kala’s offerings were nothing new and to deny Meru the chance to play with the other children would at best only raise a question to ask if she was all right. She wasn’t all right. Still, she nodded and relinquished her hold on her daughter. Fasa took her arm and they walked together, away from the children, down the paths toward the arboretum. Common. Familiar.
They moved on, past the creek, and into the lessons room. Looking around at the faces in the room, the Vedeks and artists gathered, it hit her. This wasn’t just a meeting to talk about their concerns. No, this was organized. Focused. T’Vani hadn’t just been invited, she’d been recruited.
Fifteen Bajorans had taken position around the room. Two Vedeks - Khrel and Toleth stood against the front wall, all ornamentation of their ranks removed save for their earrings. T’Vani recognized Shakaar Seltha and her husband, Kento. E’Rala and his sister, Twia, Rainni, Bela. The others she could place from the markets and services, but she wasn’t sure of their names. As Fasa closed the door behind them, Seltha stood up and took place in the center of the gathered circle. Before she spoke, she removed her own brown altrec, revealing a thick shock of blonde hair. Around her, all the women save the Vedek followed suit. “The Prophets bless this meeting,” she said, her voice calm and focused. She paused, and T’Vani quietly dropped to one of the chairs, keeping herself in reach of the door. “We have news,” Seltha continued, “and none of it is good.” She nodded to Khrel.
The Vedek took her place in the center of the circle, a lock of curly black hair escaping the purple veil that covered her head and shoulders. “I’ve spoken with our compatriots in the capital. The feeds are right - there is a concentrated office of Cardassian Diplomacy in the Hall of Ministers. Armed Cardassian guards keep shifts with our own militia troops. They have been given latitude to arrest Bajoran citizens.”
“Why is the Minister allowing this?” someone asked. T’Vani did not recognize them.
Silence. Toleth rose and touched Khrel’s shoulder. She stepped back and allowed him his space in the circle. “The Vedeks in the Capital believe the office of the minister has been compromised. We have evidence that the First Minister has a Cardassian on staff, but it is not the city centers we are worried about.”
Suddenly, like with a sculpture or an icon, the art before T’Vani made sense. She gasped and heard her words as she dared to interrupt the Vedek. “It’s true about the farmlands, then. The Cardassians are the ones keeping order and they have all the power. They are taking control of the colonies and they are the ones hunting down our transport ships. This is a takeover.”
“We believe so,” Toleth replied and T’Vani was grateful for the lack of annoyance in his voice. She had, after all, interrupted the most important Vedek in the order to state the obvious.
“If they control the farming areas, they control export,” T’Vani continued. “It’s easy enough to silence the artists, the politicians.” She rose. “Give the politicians something to worry about - say, ships going missing or an outbreak of virus, and they will be kept busy. Artists sit in our homes, painting and contemplating. We are no threat to a culture that has already defaced our work and that has no appreciation for the power of academia. The militia will follow orders - no matter how good hearted the officers - and over the past five years, we’ve seen an increase in crime, which keeps them busy. The stories the outlets break, they talk of malcontents.” She kept rambling, knowing this was discussion the group had already engaged in, but she was catching up. “And the women going missing …” her voice dropped off.
“Enslaved,” Fasa spoke from her seat. “There is a brothel in the Hama province, one that was once highly regarded. The Cardassians overtook it. The women there are now abused. Forced to serve the soldiers stationed there. We have a testimony from one of the women who watched a fellow concubine fight back. They …” Fasa’s voice fell silent and while T’Vani didn’t need her friend to continue, she waited for her to. “The Cardassian guards raped her and then left her to die in the street as an example.”
“Why didn’t they intervene in Hama?” T’Vani retorted. “The Minister there is beloved …”
“The Minister has an outbreak of Torilean Phage to contend with, and a crop that had promised to be strong this year that suddenly failed,” Toleth explained. Silence took the room for a long moment.
Seltha rose again, keeping her place, and the energy focused to her. T’Vani was entranced by the woman’s poise and ability to command a room. The Shakaar clan were farmers, they kept to their fields, but this woman was also a leader and one T’Vani was willing to follow. “The Cardassians did not come in peace,” Seltha stated. “They never did. And our belief in partnership has only served this time to harm us. The Cardassians are here for our resources and they are ramping up their takeover slowly so that if we complain, we look like we are overreacting. You’ve heard the news outlets - that the problems are only the work of a few bad ketterpods in the barrel. They are here for us as a workforce. This was calculated, this was intended, and it is possibly too late to stop it. We are facing famine this winter and disease already ravages our provinces and our Cardassian neighbors are all too happy to stay and help, even though we never invited them in the first place.” She took a breath. “There are groups like ours forming all over Bajor. No obligation is laid on those of you here, but this is no longer just an intelligence group. We need to fight back before it’s impossible to get them to leave. It’s going to be dangerous. Many of you have small childrens or businesses you want to protect. But we need them gone. Now.”
T’Vani almost rose. She almost went to find Meru. But even though her mind thought it, she didn’t move. Her legs wouldn’t cooperate. “What do you need us to do?” She asked.
***
“Okay, I wasn’t expecting that,” Fasa said as she entered T’Vani’s apartment later that night, shrugging her altrec down around her shoulders as she did so. They’d all dispersed after the meeting, with assignments as innocuous to watch specific news feeds and return for services in three days. T’Vani was already working on an idea to get the word out through a new series of artworks; she’d work on them once Meru was asleep. Fasa scooped up Meru and kissed her on the top of the head before taking a seat on the low pillows. T’Vani fanned herself. “And it’s hot in here.”
“My cooling unit died today,” T’Vani sighed. “I’ve put in a request but it will take a few days. It’s fine, it cools off at night and I think Meru likes it warm.”
“No!” the toddler argued, but she was smiling. T’Vani went to get her daughter a frozen jumja stick to suck on and poured cold tea for herself and Fasa. It was too hot for anything else.
“I’ll have Seri come by and look at it. She’s faster than any of the repair guys. Cheaper too.”
“You say that only because you’re sleeping with her.”
“Not a bad arrangement,” Fasa chuckled.
T’Vani paused and tilted her head. “What didn’t you expect?” she asked, going back to the earlier conversation, “I mean, it was clear nothing that was said today was surprising.”
“You,” Fasa said. “You didn’t even blink.”
T’Vani stared at Meru, who was thumbing through a picture book of the Prophets while she chewed on her melting jumja. “I have a daughter to protect and quite frankly, if my art can’t be used for something productive, then I should hang it all up and come work for you.”
Fasa laughed and pulled her long, brown hair out of its braid and bun. She scraped her fingernails along her scalp before picking out some of the knots. “The offer will always stand, my friend.”
“What do you think is going to happen?” T’Vani asked, sipping her tea. She stared at the betrothal bracelet on her wrist, wondering if her husband truly was lost to space or if he was working one of those damn mines. Would he ever see his daughter again?
Fasa was quiet and T’Vani changed her focus to follow her friend’s gaze. Meru was sitting on a pillow, ignoring the adults, but neither of them could ignore her. “I don’t think who we are today is going to matter very much for very much longer, T’vani. I don’t think we as a people understand what is coming for us.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
Silence again. Fasa let out a long, slow breath. “Whenever we start asking that … it only proves to be worse.”
“So what next?”
Fasa shrugged and pulled her hair over her shoulder, casually rebraiding the locks. “We’re on our own. So we …” she sighed. “We fight.”
T’Vani looked around her home. She took in the slightly chipped hardwood floors, the bright purple and gray rugs that needed a good beating, the walls that were covered in her abstract creations. She’d chosen this apartment because of the wall space and the ability to paint anywhere. Fasa was stretched out on the pile of yellow and red pillows. Above her, the mirror caught the candle light from the shrine by the door.
“We’re going to lose everything, aren’t we?”
Fasa sipped her tea. “I hope not, T’Vani. I really do. But I feel like we were caught off guard when the Cardassians showed up and we … we don’t shoot first. Something happened when they landed and …”
“Yeah.”
“It’s been five years. Has a mutual partnership done anything for us?”
“No.”
“They’re publishing stories now, did you see? Cardassian soldiers falling in love with Bajoran peasants. Bajorans awed by the skill and the might of these lizards who haven’t read anything beyond their own stilted history.”
Desperate for one last sense of hope, T’Vani ventured, “Aren’t the Cardassian clerics rumored to have similar religious rituals?”
“Have you ever seen one of the rituals?”
“No.”
“They’re making this whole situation sympathetic, T’Vani. In fifty years, they’re going to be telling the galaxy that we invited them here, and that they did good for Bajor.”
“Where do you think we’re going to be in fifty years?”
Fasa looked at Meru again and the tone in her voice sent shivers down T’Vani’s spine. “T’Vani, I don’t think we’re going to be here to see it.”
Author: vegawriters
Fandom: Star Trek: DS9
Series: Tears of the Prophets
Pairing: None
Rating: Gen
Timeframe: Pre-Series
A/N: There is a lot of discussion about whether the occupation began in 2309 or 2318. In some places, it’s referenced as a 60 year occupation, in some a 50 year, in some it is a 60 year timeline where the violence began 10 years after the Cardassians arrived. In the Terok Nor books (Day of the Vipers, Night of the Wolves, Dawn of the Eagles), which give a fascinating look into Bajoran society as the Cardassians arrived, things get going in 2318. I’m definitely drawing inspiration from those books, but I’ve always fallen more into the idea that the Cardassians had more of a presence early on and it ramped up - so much so that, like with many fascist dictatorships - you don’t realize where you are until it’s just too late.
Disclaimer: Star Trek is owned by CBS/Viacom, etc. I’m just here writing out these characters and trying to make the world make sense. But a girl loves to write and has tons of ideas ...
Summary: You’ve heard the news outlets - that the problems are only the work of a few bad ketterpods in the barrel. They are here for us as a workforce. This was calculated, this was intended, and it is possibly too late to stop it.
City of Hathon, Dakurh Province
Bajor
Federation Time Structure: 2313
The silence at night was different lately. Instead of the peace that came with the rising of Jaraddo and the faint reflection of the Denorius Belt in the sky, there was a restlessness, an expectation of waiting for some vague terror to emerge from the shadows. Ghost stories of childhood come to life, haunting the recesses of the subconscious.
Five years ago, the first Cardassians had beamed down to the Capital. Standing tall in their military gear, shining like carien roaches in the sun. It wasn’t the first contact they’d had with their quadrant neighbors, of course not. On some of the border worlds, there were even colonies with Cardassians and Bajorans living and working together. But this … this presence on Bajor was different. Permanent, perhaps. Why were they even here? And why didn’t Bajor have a presence on Cardassia?
Slowly, subtly, life on Bajor was changing. Fewer people gathered on porches or around fires. Restaurants were subdued and more and more shops were closing while rents were rising. The silence from the Hall of Ministers only led to further frustration. What the hell was happening in the Capitol and why did it feel like the Cardassians were somehow involved? With each passing day, more people needed help and it seemed there were fewer and fewer resources to assist.
And now, the outlets said tonight, they had a confirmed case of a new strain of virus in Reliketh. One that left people struggling to breathe and that seemed to be resistant to traditional medications. But, everything was under control and their new Cardassian allies had new technology to help fight off the illness.
How convenient.
In Dakurrh, things were tense, but relatively unscathed. So far.
Kira T’vani still spent her nights on her front stoop, watching the moons rise. Once Meru was settled in for sleep, tucked in her small bed for the night, T’vani would slip outside and watch the stars, hoping against hope for Dresa’s return. Like so many who worked off-world, he was gone for months and even years at a time. But before, there had always been letters home. The last time he had seen Meru, she was not yet walking, and there had been no communication for months. Officially, he was listed as missing and the Ministry had told her to not expect his return.
So, T’vani’s days were spent dividing her attention between her daughter and her canvas, but with each passing day, it was harder to paint or sculpt. Her pieces were stilted, childlike. More and more, her distraction took her to the comm boards, she she lost hours of work time scrolling through social board posts.
Another ship vanished between here and the colonies.
Did you see the Minister never leaves the grounds anymore?
There’s political unrest in Ativa. Ativa! They’ve been middle of the road and status quo since before the New Age.
The news outlets aren’t reporting how bad it is in Relekith and that it might have spread to Rikantha.
The artist in her knew that political and religious cycles were a part of history, a part of life. She knew that change made people nervous. But -
Does anyone else find it strange that the Cardassians showed up with a flock of military vessels, saying they just needed some assistance, and that they’ve stayed …
Vedek Tovah was found dead outside the gardens in Mombassa. She’d been violated.
T’Vani’s art lately had been full of gray-green color choices and canvasses rimmed with black and silver. Everything was abstract, unfocused … scared. Vedek Krehl would tell her to embrace the fear, but Vedek Krehl usually said things like that when T’vani was cycling her fears regarding Dresa’s disappearance. Or when she was preaching in the temple about the end of the d’jarras and how crucial it was that Bajor officially leave behind a policy that so many ignored anyway. Those interpretations of the Prophecies were part of a different time and to move forward, Bajor needed to cast off this last shackle. The criticism was fair that Krehl had started preaching this way after a visit from the Federation, who disapproved of caste based structures in their governing body.
A window to her right opened and T’vani glanced over to see her neighbor lean out of the building that housed both of their apartments. “You should come and join me,” she said to Bareil Fasa. “It’s a nice night and the sewer bugs are all snug in their beds for once.” Below her on the walk, a carien roach skittered across the pavement. “Okay, most of them.”
The garden shop owner laughed. “Bugs are the least of my worries right now. The cariens do their job in the sewers and as long as they don’t come inside, I’m fine with them.” A careful pause. “How are you?”
“Blocked. Everything is gray and silver.”
“How’s Meru?”
T’vani smiled. “Perfect.”
Fasa was quiet for a moment and T’vani looked out into the street to see a skimmer with two Cardassian soldiers sail by. Once the street was clear, Fasa let out a breath. “Another warship arrived today, did you hear?”
“I honestly haven’t paid much attention to anything but the feeds.”
“Feeds is where I heard it.” Fasa fell silent and T’vani realized her neighbor was coming out to join her on the stoop. A few minutes later, Fasa appeared, a gray altrec tossed loosely over her hair and shoulders, and handed her a mug of tea as she sat down. “You need to water the basha plant I gave you,” the other woman said, nodding at the potted plant on the stairs. T’Vani nodded. “There’s a leak out of the Ministry,” Fasa continued, changing the subject. “Apparently the Federation negotiators are gone. The potential of a treaty was never serious and apparently the Cardassians made some noise about their territory and there wasn’t a whisper again.”
“How do you know this?” T’vani looked out at the street, watching for skimmers. Across the street, a group of laborers made their way toward the transport platforms.
“Just the feeds, honestly, which, yes, I know are mostly rumor. But they are pretty accurate lately. There’s a few posters who are in the administration.” Fasa paused and sipped her tea. T’Vani watched the moons. “There is talk of organizing,” she said quietly. “Talk of forming a resistance. Some are calling for more transparency and possibly an election. People want the Cardassians gone.”
A resistance? T’Vani inhaled the sweet scent of her tea. “I’ve seen the calls for the election. That won’t go anywhere,” T’vani said. “But the minister has …”
A skimmer flew by. Stopped. Came back. Hovered. T’Vani’s mind flashed to the feeds, to the rumors. She forgot what she was going to say about the minister. She just waited. Staring at them, watching the disappearing forms of the laborers. Would the Cardassians harass them?
Young girls are going missing in Dakurrh. Someone saw a Cardassian soldier grab two girls on their way home from classes.
“Tesk,” Fasa cursed. “We should get inside.”
“I’m not letting them scare me off my porch,” T’vani retorted. “They aren’t law enforcement. They are guests on our planet. This is my home.”
“They shot someone the other day …”
“Then they should get off our planet.” T’vani stared at the skimmer, daring it to come closer. It didn’t. But as it flew off, her stomach twisted in knots. What did Fasa know about the resistance movement? Was it real or just angry people on the feeds? “There is a reason Bajor hasn’t involved itself with other planets,” T’vani said after a long moment. “And it isn’t just because the Prophets …”
The skimmer was back.
Fasa tensed. T’vani stared, waiting.
“It’s because,” she forced herself to keep talking, “other cultures shoot first.”
Fasa didn’t reply and T’vani didn’t blame her. They just sat next to each other on the stoop, watching the skimmer watch them. Eventually it powered up and flew off into the night and T’vani let out a breath. As much as she hated to admit it, she wasn’t that much a fan of offworlders. Especially these offworlders. “How am I supposed to raise Meru with those lizards around?” T’vani finally asked. “How am I supposed to …”
Again they lapsed into silence.
“There’s a meeting,” Fasa finally said, “of people who are worried and want to know what’s going on. There’s disturbing news from some of the colonies. Some people believe the missing ships aren’t just going off course.”
So. Fasa had brought up the resistance for a reason. She was being tested. “They’re being captured,” T’vani filled in the gaps. “Of course they are.” She set the cup of tea down and watched a sewer bug skitter down past the stairs. “There’s been reports for years that the Cardassians are always looking for people to work in their mines.”
Fasa leaned against her. “Come to the meeting. You can bring Meru. We’ve got someone who watches the kids. Something is happening and I know that the majority thinks we’re all crazy and xneophobic, but … something is happening. We all know it. Bajor herself feels it.”
T’vani nodded and let her own altrec fall loose around her shoulders. Her friend was right. “All right,’ she said. “I’ll come.”
***
It made sense to have this meeting at the monastery. No one questioned people coming for services, or staying after. The grounds were there for contemplation, for communion. Still, T’Vani couldn’t focus on the service and Meru’s natural distraction only irritated her. Finally Vedek Toleth stopped talking and everyone moved to the grounds, comfortable, conversational.
Fasa came over, a smile on her face. “Enjoy services?”
“Not really …” T’Vani set Meru down, suddenly questioning why she was here. What was this? She had a daughter to raise and art to perfect and maybe they were all just overreacting. What was she doing here? But she saw Fasa’s eyes move to Toleth so she let out a sigh. “I’m just distracted today.”
“Some days it’s so much harder than others to concentrate,” Fasa replied. “I have an idea, why don’t you let Meru play with the other kids. Kala has offered to take them all down to the sculpture gardens.”
T’Vani understood. Keep it normal. Kala’s offerings were nothing new and to deny Meru the chance to play with the other children would at best only raise a question to ask if she was all right. She wasn’t all right. Still, she nodded and relinquished her hold on her daughter. Fasa took her arm and they walked together, away from the children, down the paths toward the arboretum. Common. Familiar.
They moved on, past the creek, and into the lessons room. Looking around at the faces in the room, the Vedeks and artists gathered, it hit her. This wasn’t just a meeting to talk about their concerns. No, this was organized. Focused. T’Vani hadn’t just been invited, she’d been recruited.
Fifteen Bajorans had taken position around the room. Two Vedeks - Khrel and Toleth stood against the front wall, all ornamentation of their ranks removed save for their earrings. T’Vani recognized Shakaar Seltha and her husband, Kento. E’Rala and his sister, Twia, Rainni, Bela. The others she could place from the markets and services, but she wasn’t sure of their names. As Fasa closed the door behind them, Seltha stood up and took place in the center of the gathered circle. Before she spoke, she removed her own brown altrec, revealing a thick shock of blonde hair. Around her, all the women save the Vedek followed suit. “The Prophets bless this meeting,” she said, her voice calm and focused. She paused, and T’Vani quietly dropped to one of the chairs, keeping herself in reach of the door. “We have news,” Seltha continued, “and none of it is good.” She nodded to Khrel.
The Vedek took her place in the center of the circle, a lock of curly black hair escaping the purple veil that covered her head and shoulders. “I’ve spoken with our compatriots in the capital. The feeds are right - there is a concentrated office of Cardassian Diplomacy in the Hall of Ministers. Armed Cardassian guards keep shifts with our own militia troops. They have been given latitude to arrest Bajoran citizens.”
“Why is the Minister allowing this?” someone asked. T’Vani did not recognize them.
Silence. Toleth rose and touched Khrel’s shoulder. She stepped back and allowed him his space in the circle. “The Vedeks in the Capital believe the office of the minister has been compromised. We have evidence that the First Minister has a Cardassian on staff, but it is not the city centers we are worried about.”
Suddenly, like with a sculpture or an icon, the art before T’Vani made sense. She gasped and heard her words as she dared to interrupt the Vedek. “It’s true about the farmlands, then. The Cardassians are the ones keeping order and they have all the power. They are taking control of the colonies and they are the ones hunting down our transport ships. This is a takeover.”
“We believe so,” Toleth replied and T’Vani was grateful for the lack of annoyance in his voice. She had, after all, interrupted the most important Vedek in the order to state the obvious.
“If they control the farming areas, they control export,” T’Vani continued. “It’s easy enough to silence the artists, the politicians.” She rose. “Give the politicians something to worry about - say, ships going missing or an outbreak of virus, and they will be kept busy. Artists sit in our homes, painting and contemplating. We are no threat to a culture that has already defaced our work and that has no appreciation for the power of academia. The militia will follow orders - no matter how good hearted the officers - and over the past five years, we’ve seen an increase in crime, which keeps them busy. The stories the outlets break, they talk of malcontents.” She kept rambling, knowing this was discussion the group had already engaged in, but she was catching up. “And the women going missing …” her voice dropped off.
“Enslaved,” Fasa spoke from her seat. “There is a brothel in the Hama province, one that was once highly regarded. The Cardassians overtook it. The women there are now abused. Forced to serve the soldiers stationed there. We have a testimony from one of the women who watched a fellow concubine fight back. They …” Fasa’s voice fell silent and while T’Vani didn’t need her friend to continue, she waited for her to. “The Cardassian guards raped her and then left her to die in the street as an example.”
“Why didn’t they intervene in Hama?” T’Vani retorted. “The Minister there is beloved …”
“The Minister has an outbreak of Torilean Phage to contend with, and a crop that had promised to be strong this year that suddenly failed,” Toleth explained. Silence took the room for a long moment.
Seltha rose again, keeping her place, and the energy focused to her. T’Vani was entranced by the woman’s poise and ability to command a room. The Shakaar clan were farmers, they kept to their fields, but this woman was also a leader and one T’Vani was willing to follow. “The Cardassians did not come in peace,” Seltha stated. “They never did. And our belief in partnership has only served this time to harm us. The Cardassians are here for our resources and they are ramping up their takeover slowly so that if we complain, we look like we are overreacting. You’ve heard the news outlets - that the problems are only the work of a few bad ketterpods in the barrel. They are here for us as a workforce. This was calculated, this was intended, and it is possibly too late to stop it. We are facing famine this winter and disease already ravages our provinces and our Cardassian neighbors are all too happy to stay and help, even though we never invited them in the first place.” She took a breath. “There are groups like ours forming all over Bajor. No obligation is laid on those of you here, but this is no longer just an intelligence group. We need to fight back before it’s impossible to get them to leave. It’s going to be dangerous. Many of you have small childrens or businesses you want to protect. But we need them gone. Now.”
T’Vani almost rose. She almost went to find Meru. But even though her mind thought it, she didn’t move. Her legs wouldn’t cooperate. “What do you need us to do?” She asked.
***
“Okay, I wasn’t expecting that,” Fasa said as she entered T’Vani’s apartment later that night, shrugging her altrec down around her shoulders as she did so. They’d all dispersed after the meeting, with assignments as innocuous to watch specific news feeds and return for services in three days. T’Vani was already working on an idea to get the word out through a new series of artworks; she’d work on them once Meru was asleep. Fasa scooped up Meru and kissed her on the top of the head before taking a seat on the low pillows. T’Vani fanned herself. “And it’s hot in here.”
“My cooling unit died today,” T’Vani sighed. “I’ve put in a request but it will take a few days. It’s fine, it cools off at night and I think Meru likes it warm.”
“No!” the toddler argued, but she was smiling. T’Vani went to get her daughter a frozen jumja stick to suck on and poured cold tea for herself and Fasa. It was too hot for anything else.
“I’ll have Seri come by and look at it. She’s faster than any of the repair guys. Cheaper too.”
“You say that only because you’re sleeping with her.”
“Not a bad arrangement,” Fasa chuckled.
T’Vani paused and tilted her head. “What didn’t you expect?” she asked, going back to the earlier conversation, “I mean, it was clear nothing that was said today was surprising.”
“You,” Fasa said. “You didn’t even blink.”
T’Vani stared at Meru, who was thumbing through a picture book of the Prophets while she chewed on her melting jumja. “I have a daughter to protect and quite frankly, if my art can’t be used for something productive, then I should hang it all up and come work for you.”
Fasa laughed and pulled her long, brown hair out of its braid and bun. She scraped her fingernails along her scalp before picking out some of the knots. “The offer will always stand, my friend.”
“What do you think is going to happen?” T’Vani asked, sipping her tea. She stared at the betrothal bracelet on her wrist, wondering if her husband truly was lost to space or if he was working one of those damn mines. Would he ever see his daughter again?
Fasa was quiet and T’Vani changed her focus to follow her friend’s gaze. Meru was sitting on a pillow, ignoring the adults, but neither of them could ignore her. “I don’t think who we are today is going to matter very much for very much longer, T’vani. I don’t think we as a people understand what is coming for us.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
Silence again. Fasa let out a long, slow breath. “Whenever we start asking that … it only proves to be worse.”
“So what next?”
Fasa shrugged and pulled her hair over her shoulder, casually rebraiding the locks. “We’re on our own. So we …” she sighed. “We fight.”
T’Vani looked around her home. She took in the slightly chipped hardwood floors, the bright purple and gray rugs that needed a good beating, the walls that were covered in her abstract creations. She’d chosen this apartment because of the wall space and the ability to paint anywhere. Fasa was stretched out on the pile of yellow and red pillows. Above her, the mirror caught the candle light from the shrine by the door.
“We’re going to lose everything, aren’t we?”
Fasa sipped her tea. “I hope not, T’Vani. I really do. But I feel like we were caught off guard when the Cardassians showed up and we … we don’t shoot first. Something happened when they landed and …”
“Yeah.”
“It’s been five years. Has a mutual partnership done anything for us?”
“No.”
“They’re publishing stories now, did you see? Cardassian soldiers falling in love with Bajoran peasants. Bajorans awed by the skill and the might of these lizards who haven’t read anything beyond their own stilted history.”
Desperate for one last sense of hope, T’Vani ventured, “Aren’t the Cardassian clerics rumored to have similar religious rituals?”
“Have you ever seen one of the rituals?”
“No.”
“They’re making this whole situation sympathetic, T’Vani. In fifty years, they’re going to be telling the galaxy that we invited them here, and that they did good for Bajor.”
“Where do you think we’re going to be in fifty years?”
Fasa looked at Meru again and the tone in her voice sent shivers down T’Vani’s spine. “T’Vani, I don’t think we’re going to be here to see it.”