In the kind of contemplation that comes when the mind is weary, the boy was noting how there was always noise around him. This isn't to say the sounds couldn't be ignored, or that they themselves kept him from rest, simply that it was never quiet. If for some reason there wasn't any weapons fire, then there were men and women around him talking in low voices. If not that, then the insects, or the wind. It was never really totally silent. The boy's half-conscious mind pondered for several minutes what it would be like to be enshrouded in total silence, before he was jerked awake inexplicably.
The boy rose up on his elbows as he surveyed the camp around him. Several others lay nearby, either sleeping or talking in low tones. Since they were a good distance from their enemy, they were able to risk a small fire, and the boy, Reiv Garon by name, took much comfort in it. No heat was needed certainly, for it was the early part of summer in their part of Bajor, and no light was required to whisper by. There was just something very relaxing about having one. Garon stared into the fire for what seemed like hours, wondering where his father had spirited off to without telling anyone where he was going; or more precisely, without telling Garon where he was going. Garon found that very unnerving since secrecy usually only meant one thing, and that was that the secretive person was going on some sort of dangerous mission against the hated occupying force on their planet.
The next thing he knew, Garon was being shaken awake gently by a pair of large, strong hands. "Garon," said the voice of one of his cousins. "Your father wants to see you." It was still night as Garon's eyes irritably fluttered open for seemingly the hundredth time that evening.
"It's still dark," Garon mumbled in a sleepy voice bordering right on the edge of being a whine.
"You're very observant. Now hurry up," his cousin cajoled, pushing Garon over in his pallet until the boy was about to land face down in the dirt. Garon stopped himself before that happened while his cousin chuckled quietly, and he raised himself up off the ground up to a kneeling position.
"What does he want?" Garon demanded in a groggy voice.
"How should I know?" The cousin paused, turning to point in the direction of one of the small fires. "Go ask him yourself. He's over there with that group of people," he said. "I'm going to sleep."
Garon sighed and stood up, walking slowly towards the group of men his cousin had pointed out to him. "Father?" he called out, half-whispering through the still night air.
One of the men turned instinctively and beckoned to him, finally wrapping the inviting arm around Garon's shoulders upon the boy's arrival. "Vedek Baylah, this is my son, Garon." Garon looked up in the flickering firelight and took note of the Vedek in his traditional garb minus the hood of his cloak, a man of medium height with graying hair. His face spoke of the horrors he had seen in this war against the Cardassian occupation of Bajor, horrors which would stay on in his mind, haunting him forever.
The holy man nodded wordlessly to Garon's father and stepped slowly forward, reaching for Garon's right ear as he did so. Garon wanted to flinch, to run away from this stranger, though his father's arm draped around his back both comforted and restrained him at the same time. Vedek Baylah held Garon's right ear while closing his eyes and murmuring to himself. "The visions were true, Ralad," Vedek Baylah said quietly, addressing Garon's father after a few moments. "The Pah is very strong in this boy. He is destined for something special. You must get him off this planet so that he may serve his ultimate purpose. It is the will of the Prophets," Baylah finished.
The next several hours had been a hurried flurry of activity for young Garon. His father packed a few meager reminders of his family together for him and spirited him away into the countryside, leaving him no time to see his friends one last time, no time for good-byes.
Father and son waited impatiently near a shuttle landing site. Occasionally, neutral planets would send humanitarian aid to the besieged Bajorans. Most ships would be stopped and confiscated, but a few did manage to get through from time to time, usually with help from the Bajorans themselves through sabotage of the Cardassian ground forces. This aid was ostensibly medical supplies and the like, though Garon's resistance cell also occasionally received a bit of smuggled arms and munitions.
"Father I don't understand," Reiv Garon pleaded. "I don't want to leave you and the family. Why do I have to go? I want to stay and fight!"
Ralad smiled at his son and rubbed his head gruffly, messing the boy's hair. "I've raised you well, I see. Perhaps too well," he replied absent-mindedly before addressing the boy's real question. "I don't know if I can make you understand, but there is a greater purpose to which we all serve. That purpose occasionally asks us to make sacrifices. You must survive and flourish, my son, for your destiny is out there amongst the stars. If we have to, we will all die to ensure it. The Prophets have something special in store for you and it is our duty to follow their way."
Garon sighed painfully, struggling to keep tears out of his eyes and put up a brave front. "I will do as you ask, Father," he said simply. Ralad embraced his son tightly, knowing well that once the transport arrived, he would never see his son again.
Within an hour, a small transport arrived, containing medical assistance along with a few extra surprises smuggled aboard for the Bajoran resistance cells. On this day it would also serve to spirit away a young Bajoran boy with a special destiny, who didn't have a clue as to what awaited him.
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