I have to get out of here.She found the pile of her damp clothes where she had shed them the night before; they remained too filthy and wet to be practical to wear. Her mud-coated knapsack, its disheveled, dirty contents spilling out the sides, served as a reminder of the miserable night of traveling.
Another groan from the top bunk reminded Rena about the rest. She quickly donned her discarded undergarments, as well as the oversized ranger jumpsuit, gathered up the rest of her victims’ pack, and left the quarters in search of a ’fresher. The facility she stumbled on provided a brief refuge and an opportunity to regain some semblance of normalcy, but once she had performed all the cleanup rituals she had the tools for, she knew she had to go back and face Jacob. She had no idea what to say.
Rena had never been one to toy with male emotions. More than a few of her classmates would think nothing of a few stolen kisses and most likely would have few regrets about a drunken night of sex with a stranger if it was pleasurable. Rena didn’t behave that way; she didn’t kiss men casually, so she had no experience to draw from in determining what to say. She decided on the truth.
With trepidation, she tapped in the door codes and discovered upon entering that Jacob was already awake, dressed, and repacking what few possessions he had gotten out when they’d arrived. The tender expression on his face quickly became wary when he saw her. She cursed her inability to hide her emotions but perhaps, in this case, her readability had served to soften the blow.
“Don’t tell me,” he began, shaking his head. “It was a mistake, you want to be friends—” He stuffed his dirty clothes into a pocket of his gear bag.
“No. It wasn’t a mistake,” she said, reaching to touch his arm. “I chose— wechose, and it was right because we both needed the comfort.”
He jerked away from her. “Comfort? You make me sound like a favorite pillow.”
“I can’t make this more than that.”
“Why not? Because I don’t fit into Topa’s plan? I’m not from Mylea? What, Rena? Tell me, since I don’t have the benefit of having the Prophets lay my path out for me,” he said bitterly.
She could hardly blame him. “If I could, I would ask you to come home with me when we get off this boat. I would invite you to stay in our family’s apartments and we’d see what could happen between us. But we can’t.”
Recognition lit on his face. “There’s someone else. Someone that Topa wanted you to be with.”
“Yes. And no.” She clenched her teeth, exhaling sharply in frustration. “Before I went to university, there was an understanding between me and someone I’d known since I was a child. I was prepared to break it off when I first came home a few months ago, but when I saw how happy Topa was, I felt like I owed it to my grandfather to see if I could make it work.”
In one swift, exaggerated gesture, Jacob fastened his bag and hefted it onto his shoulders. “Fine. Far be it from me to stand in the way of your path.” He pushed past her without another word.
For a long moment, Rena stood in the middle of the room, too miserable to move. What she was more miserable about—violating her implied commitment or hurting Jacob—she couldn’t honestly say. Watching him leave had been crushing. She had consciously pushed down the impulse to chase after him, to beg for his forgiveness and the chance to start fresh without any secrets. His words to her and his understanding about her art—his kindness—the way she felt when he kissed her—all of it had touched a deep place inside. What she would give to have one of those orbs here to help her know what she should do next.
The deep baritone horn announcing the patrol boat’s arrival into the inner harbor disrupted her thoughts. Can’t hide anymore, Rena. Time to face your life.She configured her knapsack the best she could before starting up the stairs to the upper deck.
Rena stood on the opposite side of the railing from Jacob. Unsurprisingly, he wouldn’t look at her. Soon, as the boat drew closer to the docks, Rena saw a few familiar faces in the waiting crowds: Halar, her fair-haired childhood friend, clad in her study robes, and rugged, muscular Kail, the person she thought that, once upon a time when she was a girl, she was supposed to marry. Now she wasn’t so sure.
When the gangplank descended, Rena waited until Jacob had made his way off the boat before she left. Her feet had barely touched the dock planking when Halar had thrown her arms around her and squeezed her enthusiastically.
“You’re safe! Oh Rena! We were so scared when we heard about the storm.” Halar indicated Kail as being part of the “we.” “You must have been terrified!”
“I’ve had easier trips down the valley,” Rena confessed. Kail assumed his place beside her, his clothes saturated with the oil smoke from the foundry fires where he worked. She managed not to cringe when he hugged her.
Apprenticed to an artisan, Kail hadn’t always worked the fire room, but a recent falling-out with his supervisor had resulted in a demotion. Rena had tried to listen with a sympathetic ear, but she struggled to reconcile Kail’s indignation at what he perceived as mistreatment with the belligerence and complaining she’d seen in him since she first returned home. Taking care of Topa during his final days hadn’t allowed her to spend much private time with Kail, but from what little time they had shared, he seemed like he’d changed. In that regard, she was grateful that she hadn’t accepted any betrothal agreement, hoping that with more time they would get used to each other again; oddly, she hadn’t even missed sleeping with him since she’d been back. There had always seemed to be a reason why making love didn’t feel right, whether it was the long hours she spent nursing Topa or working in the bakery. With Topa’s death, Rena had wanted to be alone to grieve. In light of what happened with Jacob, Rena saw her reticence with Kail and wondered if her reasons for avoiding intimacy were more than circumstantial. She sighed and moved a bit away from Kail, loosening his grip on her waist.
Jacob’s height made him easy to spot in the crowds of Bajoran fishermen and aquaculture workers on the docks. He walked confidently, even in this strange place. Remembering the first time she saw him—had it been only a day since the rest-and-sip?—she decided that was what had caught her eye: his being comfortable in his own skin. Rena followed him with her eyes until she felt Halar’s gaze on her.
“You’re looking at Jake Sisko, aren’t you,” she said, clasping her hands together gleefully.
Of course Halar would have known who the son of the Emissary was; she’d fanatically followed his “ministry” to Bajor since the kai had announced the reopening of the Celestial Temple eight years ago. And then it occurred to her that Halar wasn’t referring to someone unknown to her. Halar was talking about herJacob. Staring, Rena said, “Jacob Sisko?”
“Jacob, Jake.” Halar shrugged. “No matter—he’s a Sisko. Son of the Emissary. I practically squealed when I saw him coming down the gangplank. Did you see him aboard the ship?”
Jacob Sisko. Son of the Emissary. I guess I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.
Sisko
A cool, syncopated rhythm insinuated itself into Ben Sisko’s dreams, gently lifted him and tried to carry him back into the waking world. Not just yet,he thought. Let me linger here for just a moment….And, briefly, for a timeless instant, he thought he remembered how it was done, how to take a second, parse it, and keep it hanging in the air, vibrating. As the piano licks, bass, and drums wove their tale through his mind, he felt the metronome behind his eyes slow down, then stop, and he hung there for an instant, between the tick and the tock. The music still moved, but he, Ben Sisko, did not. And then the Prophets speak,he thought. Pausing, he tried to keep his inner eye from wavering, waiting…. Or perhaps They don’t…