Jake’s eyes widened. “You’re serious?”
“When Rebecca goes through her dinosaur phase, her big brother can regale her with his how-I-encountered-a-giant-winged-beast story. You’ll be her hero.”
With an inscrutable expression, he studied Kasidy, then bent and kissed her very formally on the cheek. “Thank you, Kas.” Turning, he strode back through the grass toward the house. She followed, noting the muddy footprints across the veranda and into the house; apparently in his excitement Jake had forgotten to wipe his feet. She sighed deeply. Boys will be boys.Passing over the threshold into the entry hall, she reached inside the coat closet for a cleanup rag she kept handy for just such an occasion as this.
Ben emerged from the kitchen and frowned when he saw Kasidy on all fours. “I told that boy to watch his shoes. I’ll get him back here—”
“No. Let him be.” She wiped up the last of the mud and sat back on her haunches to look up at her husband.
“What’s going on? He seemed to be in a hurry. Is he going somewhere?”
“Yes,” Kasidy said. “For a walk.” And, in her own thoughts, she added, To go see what the rest of his life looks like.
Lenaris
General Lenaris Holem scooped up a handful of ash and allowed the dawn wind to scatter it. He watched it sift between his fingers, leaving his palm stained black, and wondered whose life it represented. Man? Woman? Child? Had they been asleep when the end came? Or had the natural-gas leak already done its work by the time it ignited?
Lenaris surveyed the devastation through the thinning smoke. The tiny hilltop village had been effectively incinerated, reduced to charred ruins and a choking dust cloud that twisted up and across the sky over Hedrikspool Province. Not for the first time, the general wondered how such things fit into the Tapestry. He tried to recall if some obscure reference to this event could be found among the prophecies of Trakor, Shabren, Talnot, Ohalu, or any of the others. Had one of them foreseen it? And if they had, did that mean all this could have been prevented?
Such questions had nagged at him for much of his life. Growing up in the Relliketh camps, under Cardassian rule, Lenaris had always been riddled with doubt. It kept him, he believed, from taking anything for granted. As much as he respected those among his fellow Bajorans more pious than he, he took little comfort in the belief some of them held, that even during the worst times of the Occupation, the universe was unfolding as it was meant to. Looking around him now at what remained of Sidau village, he ached for that kind faith, the certainty that even horrors of this magnitude had some meaning in the greater scheme of things.
“General?”
Knees popping as he stood, Lenaris brushed the ash from his rough hands before responding to the voice. Twenty-five years in the resistance, followed by eight as a senior officer of the Militia, had left their marks on him. His curly gray hair continued to recede, the lines on his face were becoming more pronounced…but what troubled him most were the aches in his legs and lower back, which were becoming more distracting as the years passed. “Thank you for coming, Lieutenant,” he said. “I apologize for the sudden change of venue for our meeting.”
“Under the circumstances, I would never expect an apology, sir. To be honest, I was surprised you didn’t decide to postpone our appointment.”
Lenaris turned to face his visitor, and found that he still hadn’t grown accustomed to seeing Ro Laren back in a Starfleet uniform. Her previous stint with the Federation’s exploratory and defensive arm notwithstanding, he’d gotten used to thinking of her as Militia. So much so that sight of her in the black and gray uniform, trimmed in the gold of the organization’s security and services division, still surprised him. “How much do you know about what happened here?” he asked.
“I read the initial incident report on my way over from the station,” Ro said. “It’s tragic. I understand there were nearly three hundred people living here. For all of them to lose their lives in something so easily preventable…”
So she hasn’t spoken to Kira yet.
Ro stepped carefully around the debris, taking in the view of the fog-shrouded valley beyond the village’s crumbled outer wall. “They were an odd bunch,” she observed.
Lenaris’s eyes narrowed. “Oh?”
Ro hesitated for a second or two before elaborating. “There’s little about them in central archives, but from what I gather, they were a pretty insular community. Out here in the middle of nowhere, shunning outside contact for the most part. And, supposedly, they had a strange annual tradition in which they believed they fought off a Dal’Rok,of all things.” Ro shook her head as if she found the mythical spirit’s very name laughable. She turned away from the view and shrugged. “As I said…an odd bunch.”
“They were Bajorans, Lieutenant,” Lenaris said quietly, but with more intensity than he meant to project. “That they were perhaps more eccentric than most, and not as modern as you or I, is irrelevant. Whoever these people may have been—or not been—they deserve better than to be remembered as objects of scorn.”
Ro blinked. “I assure you I intended no disrespect, General.”
“I’m not sure I give a damn what you intended, Lieutenant,” Lenaris said. “What I know is how you came across: arrogant, dismissive, and contemptuous.”
Ro’s gaze shifted to one side for a moment, the way it often did when she was contemplating a cutting response to someone challenging her. Lenaris had grown quite familiar with the look during those first few weeks after she’d returned to her people following the end of the Dominion War. But then her expression softened, and when she spoke again, her voice lacked its previous edge. “You’re right,” she said. “That was completely inappropriate. It won’t happen again, sir.”
Lenaris nodded, letting her know he considered the matter closed. A small part of him, however, was mildly amused that Ro Laren, of all people, was learning restraint. He wondered darkly if he was meant to take that as an omen.
Ro asked, “Has the Militia confirmed how the accident took place?”
“Not exactly,” Lenaris said, just as he spied a figure sprinting toward him from the mobile command center at the edge of the village. Wearing a red Militia uniform like Lenaris’s own and holding a padd in one hand, the officer kicked up ash and soot with his boots as he ran. Captain Jaza. Right on time.
“You asked for a copy of this, sir?”
Lenaris thanked the captain as he accepted the padd. He spoke as he keyed on the display. “Lieutenant, I’d like you to meet Captain Jaza Najem, one of my scientists. Captain, Lieutenant Ro Laren.”
Jaza nodded. “A pleasure, Lieutenant. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
“Really?” Ro said. “Why is that?”
Never lifting his eyes from the padd, Lenaris explained, “This is Captain Jaza’s last week under my command. He’s decided to join Starfleet.”
“I submitted my transfer application a few days ago,” Jaza elaborated. “I was told to report to the evaluation center in Ashalla next week for an interview. I understand you and Commander Vaughn are overseeing the review process?”
“Initially, yes,” Ro confirmed. “The commander and I are primarily evaluating career Militia personnel who qualify for direct transition to active Starfleet duty. I expect Command will be sending instructors for those requiring additional training, and recruitment officers for civilians wishing to enroll in Starfleet Academy. In fact, it was to discuss those very matters that I came to meet with General Lenaris. Are you hoping to remain in-system, Captain?”