LEGACY An Alternative History of the Dominion War Year 1 Part 2 _ Transience Chapter 8 Sisko got his dinner early, giving it great thought. Somehow, it wasn't *real* that the meals he loved to prepare for his guests were so soon to be lost. Of all that was gone, the dinners would be the most personal loss. Perhaps, he thought, when a crop was planted he might have the chance to play chef again. But he had no idea if he or his meals would still be welcome. He carried his box into the little inner office where Vance had made a retreat for himself. It was decorated with a small table and several chairs, plus a larger one to lounge in. An empty shelf that had contained Vance's personal things sat by the wall. Sisko had little to store. But he had taken the baseball card his son had given him from his quarters, centered on the top shelf. Below it, hemmed in with folded papers, his baseball rested. It was all of a lost life he had left. He wished he'd had space for more of his things, left on the station, but then so much had been lost when the Borg destroyed the Saratoga. He still held them in his memory, and that would have to do now, as well. He sat the box on the table, pulling up the larger chair. Sitting, he could not relax. This was not to be a friendly gathering, even if it was intended to look that way. He pulled open the box his dinner had been stored in and carefully removed it. They were saving everything. The boxes and dishes and utensils had once been recycled, but they wouldn't be able to do that after tomorrow. He lifted the cover and studied the food. He'd have liked to make it himself, but some of the things he used did not exist here. The dish had ancient origins on Earth, but he'd revamped it with foods found on the stations. Some of the spices were Bajoran. He'd replaced one ingredient with a favorite Ferengi food. There were even traces of Cardassian flavors in the dish. He'd served it at a dinner not long after he'd accepted being the Emissary. It stood for the fusion of cultures that made up the place he could no longer deny was home. Now, once before he could never taste it again, he wanted to remember. Things would be different now. There was still a mix of species and cultures on this new home, but they'd all eat whatever they got. Taking a bite, he could almost forget why he'd called this emergency meeting. Then there was a light knock on the outer door, and he put down his spoon. Closing the door, he greeted Miles and Jadzia, both waiting with their own dinners. "Come on inside," he told them, indicating the small room. "Vance made this his private place and I suppose I've taken it over." They sat their boxes on the table, pulling up the smaller chairs and sitting. He moved back and closed the door, then locked it from the inside. Vance had put the lock in as well. Miles opened his box, pulling out the covered plate and Sisko took the box and added it to his. "I'll miss the replicator," said Miles, taking the cover off the plate. Sisko was a little surprised. He knew the culinary tastes of his top staff well. If he was going to invite them to dinners, he wanted them to like the food. O'Brien's taste was pretty basic, and it was Keiko who made the sort of dinner he'd chosen. He never got it on his own, and Sisko suspected he didn't like it all that much. But tonight, one last time, he was remembering his wife. "You'll miss it for more than dinner," said Jadzia. But then, it didn't sound like her. It was almost as if Curzon had replaced her. The food she brought was more to his taste, as well. He watched her as she silently ate, wondering if she was letting Curzon cope while she mourned. Sometimes it would be useful to have more than one self to call on, he thought. Miles was nibbling at his dinner. Sisko was hungry, and decided to wait for the short discussion he planned. The three ate, concentrating on food and memories. Jadzia finished first, and Sisko next. Miles was still taking his time. But he'd have to eat while they talked. Sisko wanted this done tonight, and didn't have time to dawdle. "I wanted to remember my dinners, but I have other reasons for asking you here," he said. "We guessed," said Jadzia. There was a cynical edge to her voice he recognized. Miles kept eating but was paying attention. "I'm worried about Vance. He hinted about some plan he had to hide some of his things. I don't know where, but I don't trust him. I need a survey of the supplies in their warehouse tonight, with detailed descriptions of what's there. He left records here, so I can find an original list of what he had. We have to know if he hid anything." Dax stacked her plate on top of his. He moved them off the table to the boxes. "I'd like to have an official reason or he might get wary and move it if he does." "Oh, I do. I need a complete list for one of my reports. So we have a bonafide excuse. The thing is, I need someone from his staff to verify what's there." Miles was almost done and put down his fork. "Rafferson has been persona non grata with some of them. I bet he'd help. The building's locked, too. I'll need one of Vance's personal staff to unlock it." "Finish your food and find someone. Tell them I have to have the information *now* or the ceremony gets delayed. Not Vance, though. Get Rafferson, too. Keep an eye on how they react. I'll get the list of what should be there before you get back." Miles nodded, eating the rest quickly. He stood, pointing at the door. Sisko took the key and unlocked it. "It might take some time," he said. "Fine, I'll be here." "What about the ceremony?" asked Dax. "Just get the list. I'll check afterwards." He stared at the outer door, wondering what would come of this place. "I'll let Willman know that I have some work to finish before we start. There are lights." Miles nodded, and fled. Sisko guessed he was uncomfortable with the memories. Jadzia was staring at the table. She was fingering the ring now, her whole demeanor changed. "What if he did hide things?" she ask, her face grim. "We can't do anything about it." "I'm sure they know what's supposed to be there. If it isn't we'll know. It will fall on Vance to explain if it comes to that." "They'd execute him," said Curzon. "Probably," said Sisko grimly. "But it might keep them from doing more." He watched Dax and saw the Old Man, her shield against reality. "It's our job to save these people from whatever we can. If Vance doesn't understand that, it has to be his responsibility to answer for it." "They won't buy it," Curzon replied. "Maybe not, but we have to try." Sisko watched as she went back to playing with the ring. It was so hard to see her like this, but at least she had Curzon to keep her from giving up. He was worried about some of the people out there who didn't. If they had nothing to lose, they might not consider that others did. He'd learned that from Kira. Sometimes the Resistance had been as hated as the Cardassians. Sometimes the greatest danger to the Resistance had been those they were trying to save. It was strange, he thought, to be one of the villagers whose crops had been burned so the Cardies couldn't take them. Dax sat quietly, staring at the ring. Curzon had had his say and was gone. "I'd like to go, Benjamin. I'd like to have some time alone." "Certainly. You might get other invitations from Ben. Are you willing to come?" He had to know if she could live with the secrets they might discover. "Of course. When did I ever turn down dinner?" Curzon smiled with Jadzia's face. Then he left and she stared at her ring. "I'll come," she said, but this time it was Jadzia. "Would you tell Willman that I have some things to do before the ceremony?" he asked. She shivered. Her face grew pale. For an instant, Jadzia was staring at something terrible before Curzon replaced her. "Not Jadzia," he said. "But I'll go." Dax picked up Miles dinner and added the things to the box, picking up the crate it was in. "I might as well take these back, too. We'd like to keep them washed." Sisko watched as his oldest friend walked out of the room, guarding his most recent. Would others notice that Dax was not herself? Would they care? He picked up the baseball, settling in his big chair. He would get the reports to compare later. But then he wanted to remember Curzon, and counted all of them lucky that he'd once shared Dax. ***** The next day the Dominion would come, and they would take the tissue regenerator away. He stood over his fellow doctor wondering what was best to do. The new bout of infection had exposed a whole new area of raw skin. Bashir had gone unconscious this time, the pain had been so bad, even when he was heavily sedated. He didn't even move. They had managed to get the infection again, but the leg looked terrible. Willman didn't want to consider how painful it was. Half of what had begun to heal was raw. It was a very major setback. Willman hoped fervently that they had gotten all the infection. If not, there wouldn't be too many more options. They had already damaged the nerves and muscles permanently. But the tissue regenerator could make it better. Not the nerves, really, or the muscle control, but the raw skin could be healed. It would vastly help the pain and the tendency to infect. This was the last chance. But he hesitated. They weren't going to pay a lot of attention to a nearly- comatose patient with his leg raw. They well might note one near recovery. Julian needed to be as unnoticed as possible. He turned off the device. He silently apologized to his patient, but walked away. It was a doctor's duty to do no harm to his patients. If it saved Bashir's life, doing less might be the only way to fulfill his oath. ***** Sisko was getting impatient. He'd found the inventory of Vance's machines and other supplies, complete with part numbers. They could match them perfectly. Now he needed the list, only hoping O'Brien had gotten the numbers. He didn't have to ask if he'd come to future dinners. He could tell from the look in his eyes that the Chief would cooperate. There was a quick tap on the door. He opened it and Miles sauntered inside. "They weren't too happy, but they showed me everything. I even checked the stores. It's all here." "What about Rafferson?" asked Sisko. "He kept his eye on them. It was odd. But they didn't like it much." "He doesn't trust them." Sisko didn't either, but at least he could account for all that was supposed to be there. He took the paper. It was still odd to deal with pieces of paper, but not so strange as it had been at first. With relief, he noticed that full part numbers were recorded. But there were a lot of things. It would take time to cross-check them. "Jadzia said Willman wanted to know when to get his people to the square." "We'll have to do this after. Would you help?" Miles stared at the door. "It would be safer that way, with the numbers to compare," he muttered. "I'd rather not sit in that tent tonight." Then he paused, and looked at Sisko with curiosity. "Is Dax . . . . ?" "I don't know," sighed Sisko, remembering the way she'd shivered at the mention of the hospital. "But maybe we should be glad that Curzon is around." Miles stared ahead. "Yeah, maybe." Then he held out his hand, caressing the ring he wore. "Look, I'll let Willman and the others know we're ready." "Thank you, Chief." Miles nodded, and left. Sisko sat in his office, now fully his, wishing there was some way to go back in time and take everyone away from here. But there wasn't. He had his best clothes ready and retired to his little office to become the Emissary again. ***** The sun was setting as they gathered in the center of the original settlement, the only place large enough to hold them all. The only people missing were those too sick to attend, and minimal staff to tend to them. This was their moment, the last meeting they would hold as free people. It had been Dr. Willman's idea. It was a time to mourn the end of their world, with no one to interfere. It was a simple affair, any person wishing to speak simply coming forward. There were tears shed. Tomorrow would bring the unknown. Today they would say goodbye to all that was familiar. Stanley Garnet was thanked, in absentia, for his caring. His belief that there was no rescue to come had helped in its own way as well. From now on it was up tothem to survive. Lonnie listened to them all, from the Bajoran woman who had lost most of her children to the Cardassians but proclaimed herself forever a free woman because she would not allow them to own her, to Rafferson, who reminded them all that they were no longer two groups but had become one. A few condemned the Federation for the betrayal and others called on everyone to touch another. The Bajoran priest made an invocation to the Prophets and asked for their aide and blessings. She was surprised by the number of replies from the audience. But now it was drawing near to the end, and she pulled out her letter. Slowly, she stepped forward and waited her turn. She didn't plan it that way, but was the last to speak. She still wasn't certain that she should read the letter. But he hadn't addressed it just to her, but to all those lost behind the lines. It wouldn't mean much to some, but perhaps it might help a few that someone understood what they were to be and what their own losses could give others. It was only fitting that she share it. Nervously, she walked forward and took the podium. The microphone was too high, and she fumbled at it. Someone came and fixed it for her. She began in a shaky voice, gathering strength as she went, "Several days ago I found a letter written to me from an old friend, but it was not to myself alone, but to all of us in this place and all the other places like this. I now read it in full." She began to read. As she reached the end people began to stand in silent support. She finished, "I don't know what they will demand of you but I know it will be hard. Try to remember that at least one of us is grateful to you and will not forget. Feel free to share this letter with any others you wish. To all of you, goodbye." She began to cry. Willy put his arm around her, looking at the standing crowd. "Thank you," he said. "Now we should all make our private peace." ***** It hadn't taken long to verify that the warehouse had contained what it was supposed to. Miles had been forced back to his tent, after all. He sat on his cot, looking at the extra bag he had brought for his wife and children. He finished rereading the letters sent to them, and to him, and the tears fell. He held the new toy he had gotten for Kirayoshi, a toy the child would never see. He needed to mourn, but he could not since that is for the dead. He believed they were alive. He could not stand to believe anything else. He took out the toys he had brought for his children. He knew that they would not play with them. Miles was a realist. He still loved his wife and children but didn't expect to see them in the immediate future. Perhaps not ever, he thought, but that was too painful. Holding the toys and her favorite dress, he wondered what his wife was doing lost so far away from him. ***** Keiko O'Brien forced her legs to move despite the exhaustion and pain. After a short rest, they continued the march deep into Bajor's jagged mountains and plains, now two weeks since it began. Kira had left a few days before, going on to her own destination. The new guide, scared and impatient, kept them moving and to his timetable. The children were being carried. She had Yoshi in a sling where he could be close to her, and the guide carried Molly. She couldn't keep up and Keiko's only comfort was that she could rest during this torment. Some of the places they passed through were ugly, torn apart by the Cardassians long before. Others were too distant and unimportant then, and their beauty might have been an inspiration. But it was getting cold at night, and there was neither time nor energy to care. Yoshi had not minded the closeness, but he was cranky now. The sling helped, letting him bounce and sway as she walked, but he wanted to stop and explore the rocks and trees. He'd started to fuss, and she'd again had to give him some of the fruit. He'd slept after that. But maybe he'd live this way. It was Molly who broke her mother's heart. Molly had nearly grown up on the station or Bajor. She had learned to watch and listen from the children she played with, and had reacted to her mother's hurried instructions to pack something and go with a somber look she hadn't lost in the time since. Until the hurried walk she'd tried to keep up on her own. She'd hiked along as best she could, never complaining, never looking back. Keiko wondered if the exuberant child she had known would ever return. But most of all, Keiko was terrified of being found. She had heard that all foreigners were being detained. They had heard of the bomb from Kira, and the suspicious evacuation of the station. Most of the rest they heard was wild rumor. She tried to believe that somehow it would turn out, that they would at least be allowed to leave, but nothing else supported that belief. They traveled at night. Just before dawn they would retreat to some hidden space their guide seemed to know about, and set up their small camp. After a meager meal, they would sleep until dark, Keiko and the guide alternating watches while the children slept. And then, at dusk, they would have the second small meal and be up again, to travel another day. It had gone on long enough, now, that it was almost routine. ***** The day the old world ended began very early for most of them. The replicators were very busy as people tried to get just one more meal before the machines were taken away. It was breakfast time, but they didn't have breakfast. They dined on fancy dinner dishes, or exotic alien foods, or rich deserts. These were the kinds of moments that were to be remembered for a lifetime, and were forever tainted by the desperate rush. ***** Sisko stared at the screen, wondering when the end would come. He'd spent most of the morning sitting in the Communications room, and was almost hoping the Dominion message would come soon. How could such a small passing of time take so long? Vance had taken his time arriving Perhaps he had abandoned leadership among their own, but the Dominion considered him a representative for his people, and he had to come. Sisko didn't look forward to the company, but it would be much worse if Vance didn't come at all. But Vance had a surprise. He had several boxes with him, and handed one to Sisko. He opened it carefully. There was a full platter of jambalaya and the proper drink. He'd planned to pick it up himself that morning, but wasn't really hungry. Still, he'd not taste this again for a long time. He thanked Vance for the thought, and unpacked the food. Minutes passed, turning into an hour while they enjoyed their last meal. The food made conversation unnecessary. But it was done and neither could go to the replicator for more. The dishes were stored in the boxes, and they sat together watching the silent screen, dreading and anticipating the contact. Finally, Vance broke the silence. He was quiet and reserved, and Sisko hoped he had considered the risk he might be playing with. But he sounded resigned when he ask, softly, "Do you think anyone got any sleep?" Sisko yawned. "I didn't. Maybe an hour or two, but not much more. Damned tent is all wet. It's seeping up from the ground." Vance shook his head. "I'd think you'd have taken a house for yourself by now." Sisko was a little surprised at the assumption. "We did a list. Families get priority, more kids, higher priority." "They get sick faster," said Vance. They sat quietly, the stark reminder of the future leaving them with nothing more to say. ***** Lonnie had no time to think of the coming invader. Lying on his cot, her patient was dying. He had been born during the Cardassian occupation, and lived his twenty-seven years in refugee camps and hidden resistance cells. But for a short summer he'd had a taste of freedom, and been trained as an engineer and joined Miles O'Brien's crew on DS9. But that, and his future, ended when he'd been trapped behind a collapsed wall after the Antelope crashed. Somehow, Willman had pulled him through, and they had expected him to recover. But three days before he started to bleed. There hadn't been much of a chance, but Willman had done all he could. But he needed a base hospital, and there was nothing more that could be done. Bleeding slowly, he was weakening by the hour. They moved him to the small bay where the dying were given some privacy. He would not see the evening. Lonnie sat, keeping him covered, waiting for the moment he passed. She would not let him die alone. Sitting in the dimly lit bay, his quiet breathing slowing , her thoughts strayed to the other doctor, still only barely conscious and very weak. He had come very close to this room the day before. The second chemical treatment had left him in shock, and he had almost not pulled through. He had a reasonable chance of surviving now, but he faced a very slow recovery. Another infection was possible, of course, but they were taking extreme care to prevent it this time. The dying man stirred, moving his head around, almost speaking. He wouldn't last long, she thought. She pushed the buzzer that signaled the Bajoran's end, and a young woman entered to take her place, holding some sort of Bajoran religious items. Lonnie passed through the curtain that separated the living from the dying. She could not quite separate them at that moment, aware of how little it would take to make them all one. She passed by Bashir's bed on her way to the station, and noticed him moving a little. He was awake, then. She told the duty nurse she would be back and went to get him another bowl of soup. ***** The group near the replicators had grown in size. No one quite knew where to go or what to do, so after eating their fill they stayed. It was the largest open area in the settlement, and they waited together in the comfort of shared fear, coping better together than alone. Lonnie got herself a meal and a bowl of broth for her patient. She looked at the crowd, lost in their own misery, and hurried back to the safety of her job. When the Dominion came to their world she was feeding the Bashir his soup, sharing the moment with someone who needed to not be alone. ***** It took an eternity, but the screen suddenly lit with an unfamiliar pattern. Sisko looked at Vance. Both took a deep breath, and Sisko initiated the contact. The face of a Vorta filled the screen. "Captain Sisko and Director Vance. I have been looking forward to meeting you." The voice was too smooth, almost like meeting the friend of a friend. He wasn't smiling, but there was none of the sudden harsh reality that should have been there. Sisko was almost tempted to remind him that he wasn't a captain anymore. Vance surprised him by taking the lead. "We have been awaiting your arrival, Sir. Will you need a place to meet?" The Vorta smiled one of those diplomatic smiles Sisko had seen before. "I would like a private meeting between myself and the two of you before we proceed with other matters. Perhaps the office you occupy now." Without warning, four armed Jem'Hadar and the Vorta materialized in the small room. Sisko and Vance stood, allowing themselves to be scanned for weapons. After satisfying themselves that the two men were unarmed, the Jem'Hadar were ordered to leave. They pushed open the door and stomped out. It shut with a clang. Sisko and Vance stood, wondering what came next. The Vorta approached with a hand extended. "My name is Glebaroun, and I'm to be the administrator of this territory. Thus, both of you will deal with myself in matters relating to this colony." They shook his hand. He did not seem to react to the somewhat stunned nature of their handshakes. He motioned them to sit, and they arranged themselves around the small table. Glebaroun proceeded to talk as if it was a business meeting. "I do hope that we all understand each other. We have no desire for misunderstandings. We have rules which apply to all colonies of this sort, some of which you have been introduced to already. Our continued good relations depend on your continuing to obey these rules, in which case you will receive the shipments to which you are entitled, and that is the only contact which will be necessary, barring emergencies, of course. Do you have any questions?" "Not at this time," said Sisko, quietly. "I am not comfortable with the splitting of authority between you, but unless there is a problem I will not interfere. I do hope that there are no problems. I trust we are in agreement." Both Vance and Sisko nodded. Vance hesitated a moment and added, "I'll defer to Mr. Sisko if it works better that way." Glebaroun studied him. "Perhaps. As I said, you're free to arrange whatever works for the two of you." There was a mild sting of rebuke to his tone and Vance looked down. "There are some policies which I want you to understand," said the Vorta. Vance and Sisko listened. ***** While Glebaroun played the diplomat with Vance and Sisko, the Jem'Hadar had already made their presence known. The crowd by the replicator had retreated back into the square when armed Jem'Hadar had beamed into the settlement in substantial numbers. Any others they found as they methodically searched tents and buildings were being herded towards the square. Slowly, the square filled with people, trying very hard not to stare at the Jem'Hadar, and trying even harder not to look afraid of them. The original residents had never seen the Dominion soldiers, but had heard enough from the others that they gave them room and didn't argue. Sisko had made sure every single person was warned not to resist them. All weapons had already been collected in the early days of their arrival, after tempers had nearly turned deadly, and most of the people on Cyrus had already had experience with the Dominion. While Glebaroun continued his discussion with Sisko and Vance, the population of Cyrus, except for those at the hospital, were stored together in the square. The Jem'Hadar searched and confiscated. Each tent and quarters was searched, and when banned items were found, they were taken. Personal possessions were scattered, mementos were removed, an immense feeling of violation awaiting them when the inhabitants returned. And they sat, holding children and staying close. They did not look at the monstrous soldiers, nor did they make a sound. After all the waiting, now the time had come and none could work up the nerve to argue. ***** The day of the clothing exchange someone had realized that the Padds with the last letters Garnet had so kindly brought would be taken. The third, non-food replicator had been used, almost non- stop, to save the contents of those and other collections of words. The library on the computer had been copied to print. Willman's notes had been printed in triplicate. The Dominion squads were interested in the Padds themselves, and they passed by the stored books and sheets of blank paper and writing implements. It was one of the few things left untouched. ***** When they came to the hospital, Lonnie had finished Bashir's meal, and moved away from him. She stood with the nurses, talking quietly and pretending to study charts. When the staff was herded into the small front reception area and ordered to sit she did as told. They picked two nurses to return to the patients after scanning them for contraband and weapons, and Lonnie watched as a couple of the people from DS9 followed between guards back into the wards. They were searching the room. She could hear their heavy clomps on the floor. She sat still, keeping her eyes down and watching her feet. Bashir had warned her about that. The animal-like creatures didn't like to be challenged. They would punish those who looked at their faces. There were two guards left in the small room, each armed with a large gun and a sharp bayonet. She studied the floor with great concentration. She'd had nightmares about this, somehow imagining she'd be the one that stood with great dignity and took her time. She was a little ashamed that with the enemy standing before her, she did exactly as she was told. At least the Bajoran engineer had died an hour before they beamed in. He got to die in freedom. There were noises of things being moved about inside. She tried very hard to think of something other than Bashir being dragged out the door. Or would they simply beam him away? And some of the patients were in delicate condition. How would they react to having enemy soldiers next to their beds? ***** There were three Jem'Hadar, each holding a scanning device. They were examining each patient in turn, looking for contraband. Bashir was awake. But he kept his eyes closed and lay still, sensing their presence over the bed. He was very afraid, but he tried to hide it. He heard the whirl of the device pass over him and for a moment was certain they were going to take him, but instead he heard the thumps of their feet moving down the line of patients. He continued to lie perfectly still, trying to look asleep, until someone said they had left the room. Having moved away, he dared one quick look. He could hear the sounds. Willman followed the Jem'Hadar searchers with a box. They didn't find a lot. Each item made as it dropped. "Why is there so little equipment here?" asked the head of the squad, as Bashir imagined his weapon pointed at Willman. They were standing relatively near the row of beds that Bashir was in. He listened intently. The intense sense of danger had made him very aware. Willman sounded calm. "We were just a little colony before we got inundated. I had what I needed, what you have there." "The others brought cargo," said the Jem'Hadar. Willman sighed. "They brought lots of food. There was a little medical equipment but it was ruined in the crash. They didn't know they would need the equipment. Nobody expected the ship to crash and all these casualties," he said, waving his hand generally around the large room. "Do you think eighty- two people would have died if I'd had more to work with?" Bashir thought about how sometimes the Jem'Hadar simply *killed* the wounded. He hoped Willman wasn't taking too many chances with his assertive tone. The Jem'Hadar paused and considered. His second spoke. "The entire hospital has been searched, including all personal areas. Nothing was found. No hidden storage of mass amounts have been located." "You may go," said the First. The Jem'Hadar left the main floor, herding the remaining hospital staff towards the main square. Willman and the two nurses were the only ones left behind. Bashir hadn't moved. But it had been quiet for a long time, and he finally felt safe enough to open his eyes. One of the nurses was checking on him. "They're gone. Try to get some sleep," she said. He didn't think he could sleep, not knowing who was outside. But the thought came unbidden that he was still here. Perhaps, just perhaps, he would stay. A massive sense of relief descended and he fell into a deep sleep of relief. ***** Sisko was trying hard to resist a yawn. Glebaroun had gone over each point of his policy in infinite detail, and the meeting seemed to be going on forever. The confiscation of things on the contraband list was only the first topic. The rules that he would have to enforce were far less simple than that. On the surface it was quite uncomplicated; aside from supplies being delivered, what they did internally was of little concern to the Vorta. But there were significant exceptions. Acts of violence were forbidden. Sisko had explained that under their own laws they were equally unacceptable, but Glebaroun had clarified that he could not personally tolerate them. He himself had jurisdiction over the offender. Sisko understood; those prone to violence would be removed. He would not tolerate any form of open resistance. But it was more than that. He had noticed the tone Glebaroun used when he said the words. It may have been Dominion policy, but that part was very important to this Vorta. Vance had been about to say something when Sisko kicked him lightly with his foot, mouthing a "no". Looking at Sisko, Vance stopped and watched the shadows on the table. Dax walked behind the Jem'Hadar in the warehouse, scanning the cargo containers brought by the Antelope. She carried a box as well. One of them had to come along as the person responsible for the section, and she hadn't liked the look in O'Brien's eyes. They hadn't found anything to take. She'd been gruffly asked about the amount of food, but they had accepted her explanation that they had replicated what they had used, and those filled with medicines that had been used up. The replicators were already gone, beamed away first in front of the people in the square. They could check her story if they chose to verify it. The special shipments from the Antelope were of great interest to them, however. A great many had been opened and checked. The only thing offensive were a few household items, only of minor violation. They were taken away, but would be evaluated and likely returned. The Jem'Hadar didn't have the authority to leave them. She wished the situation elsewhere were as good. The Jem'Hadar had confiscated a lot of things, from the replicators to the terraforming equipment. The rocky soil of the planet had to be heavily processed before it would support crops, and without the equipment that was impossible. Ultimately, that meant they were dependent upon the Dominion for their food. The supplies in the warehouse and what could be grown in the treated area would help, but would never be enough. Outright rebellion would doom them, but she suspected few understood how easily they could be punished for the lesser things. Bashir did, and the Bajorans. She knew Willman understood. Looking at the population and food, she hoped the others would understand. She wouldn't see the end. She knew. But something terrible was going to happen. She would not survive it. Now, everyone too scared to blink, the Jem'Hadar were only touching things. Later it would be different. She followed the monsters as they opened and searched, and wondered how long it would take until they came again. ***** Lonnie would never forget the trip to the square. The medical staff, save Willman and the two nurses, had been ordered to stand. She'd pulled herself to her feet, trying not to make any sound. Then the rifles were drawn and none of their captives hesitated when ordered to go. She'd walked to the square many times before, but it was the longest journey she'd ever taken. Finally, in the square, she'd pushed her way to the side, and taken over a small patch of dirt. She didn't plan to half-collapse, but did. But it seemed like hours since they'd been gathered there, and fear was losing to exhaustion and hunger. She hadn't had much of a breakfast, too busy with the dying man. For whatever reason, they'd been put here, and as the day grew darker it looked like rain. She didn't much care what they had to say, but wished they would hurry. From what she'd been able to tell, the search was done. No one else had been brought, and the four guards on Vance's door remained. The sun poked out through the clouds, and it was getting hot as well as humid. She worried about Bashir, wondering if he was still there. Other patients were very sick, and there were too many of them for three people to handle. Some of the early arrivals had surrendered to sleep. She hadn't slept at all, but was much too scared to sleep now. What was the point of this, she wondered? If it was to prove they could do it, they had succeeded. She just wanted it over and to leave. Her back hurt. One of the orderlies was behind her, his legs bent up at his knees. She leaned against him, almost comfortable, and didn't even know she was falling asleep. ***** Sisko was trying to listen, but the best he was managing was to look attentive. Glebaroun had outlined everything in intricate detail. He tried to remember it, but there was too much. He felt like a kid in school when the lecture had gone on too long, afraid somebody would ask him a question and he'd forget the answer. But Glebaroun had the kind of power no teacher had ever had. He and Vance nodded at appropriate moments as Glebaroun explained the general freedom of movement they were being given until they showed reason why they should not. Sisko had noted that theme. Glebaroun seemed to be giving them a chance before he got heavy-handed. He was thinking about that and what it might mean when the Vorta paused. Sisko barely noticed the change. But the tone was abrupt and sudden when he announced that the DNA tags taken earlier had been accepted. Abruptly, Glebaroun stood and motioned for them to follow. ***** The three men emerged into the crowded square, filled with the newly-merged population of Cyrus 3. Half of them had fallen asleep. As the Vorta and his reluctant party emerged, a loud alarm sounded and everyone jumped. The Vorta was putting on a show. Two chairs had been placed on the small podium left over from their ceremony, and Sisko and Vance sat. Glebaroun stepped forward and waited. The crowd was absolutely silent. He watched them for a time, the guards with rifles out, ready to shoot. Then he spoke. Sisko remembered the rules, but the crowd only got a summary. There was already a printed version sitting in his office to post. The tone was the same, the principle speaking to the students at school about the new rules. But it was different, too. There was a menace there, especially surrounded with armed Jem'Hadar. It was so subtle he could not really define the difference. But the words were stressed a little differently. Much was left out, leaving the crowd to guess how far the rules went. Sisko watched the Vorta as he talked. Vance would bow out officially soon. He would have to deal with this monster dressed in silk and velvet. If he'd insisted on taking everyone the first trip, if they'd gone to a base instead of this barren rock, he wouldn't have to worry about them. These people-most, at least-were here because he'd failed. If there was to be a cost borne, it was his to accept. The meeting in the square dragged on, the tone growing more somber as it progressed. Sisko watched Vance as he stared ahead, deeply embarrassed at being caught there rather than in the crowd. But there was hatred there too, and fear. The crowd sat numbly, staring and trying to make some sense of the nightmare. Then, as abruptly as it began, it was over. The sky was almost dark, late spring rains threatening to begin before morning. "Tags will be issued soon," said the Vorta. "The rules of this colony will be posted and each family will receive a copy. Read them and learn them for these rules *will* be enforced." He stepped back, and the Vorta and Jem'Hadar vanished. Sisko stood up, stepping forward. "Go home. Get some rest. Rations will be available if you're hungry in an hour or so." Vance stepped off the little stage and disappeared as quickly as he could into the crowd. Sisko wished he could join him, but deep inside counted the man a coward. He knew the rest. If they could not keep order themselves, the Jem'Hadar would do it instead. Even Vance should have been scared of that. ***** For a moment, no one moved. Lonnie stared at the empty stage, and the places where the Jem'Hadar had been. She didn't trust them enough to not come back. But as the people waited in eery silence, nothing happened. The orderly started to stretch, slowly dragging himself to his feet. She pulled herself up, still staring at the empty spaces. Some of the people here were more used to transporters than her. She had never seen so many just disappear. But she knew how easy it would be for them to come back. But others were making their way, slowly, out to the pathways. Their faces were full of fear, and anxious to find out what was left of the few things they had. She tried to imagine it. Everywhere the things of their lives would be scattered about, trampled, perhaps broken. Or they would not be there at all. She'd be like the rest and try to sort through a few things, but she was too tired and had been sitting too long. And worse, the devastating reality was taking its toll. All over Cyrus, soon people would clear off their beds and fall asleep. In the morning, the memorable things they treasured would be missing. The violation of their lives would be real. There would be anger, but frustration too. The Jem'Hadar were gone. Nobody wanted them back, so who did they blame? It would be the first hard lesson of the new life they were to lead. But for then, far too tired to care, they just gave up until morning and slept their first exhausted sleep under Dominion rule. end, Legacy, Year 1, Part 1_2, Chapter 8