Kira slammed her heels into the dirt with each brisk step, grimacing at the thought of that—that—of Kas having to deal with that man! Yevir wasn’t Kas’s problem, he was hers. Disgusted, she spat. I know how to take a hint from the universe.
Yevir showing up as she was attempting to untangle her snarled life had to be a sign that she wasn’t meant to understand “why.” Why Thriss took her life only two days before Shar’s message arrived from the Gamma Quadrant. Or why some bastard felt the need to make an example out of Ziyal—yet again. And her favorite “what-the-hell-is-he-thinking” question mark, Shakaar. Sure, she had her quarrels with him on an interpersonal level. He might use their past together as leverage over her politically, but she had trusted his leadership skills. So what happened to cause Shakaar to suddenly come down with a case of blindness equal to or surpassing Yevir’s? Bajor was being led on both the secular and religious fronts by blind men. And who was she to even presume she was better than them? Nothing she was doing seemed to be working out either. To expect guidance or answers when her whole world might be walking into darkness was pretty selfish of her. She needed to let go and trust that the Prophets had a plan. Surely they wouldn’t let Bajor fail because of the stupidity of her servants. Damn!She kicked at the dirt, sending rocks skittering. Following the gentle slope down to the riverbank, her walk gathered speed, gradually becoming a full run.
The moon’s wan face rippled silver on the water’s surface, its pale illumination providing enough light to see by. A chilly breeze blew off the river, rattling the dry leaves clinging to the trees and numbing Kira’s ears. Breathing deeply burned her lungs but she pressed on, picking her way around the clumps of river grass. She relished pushing her body until her sides ached, being driven by instinct instead of rational thought.
How long had it been since she let go? Keeping a tight reign on her emotions was part of her duty. When everyone around her completely unspooled, Kira remained in control. Take away her beloved captain. Take away her love. Take away her right to publicly practice her religion. Throw disillusionment, confusion and frustration at her and she’d bat them away, one, two, three. Nothing to it, because that’s who she was. But now the rules of the game were changing yet again, and she began to doubt her ability to keep up.
Kira followed the path away from the river into the forest where gnarled, knotted trees cloaked her in shadow. She continued running. With each step, she gagged on the pungent smoke-tinged wind blowing over from the adjoining farm. She pushed through anyway.
I’ll keep going as long as my body has breath, if that’s what the Prophets want from me,she vowed. If she had to pinpoint what intimidated her most about the road ahead, it was the sense that she was headed straight for a cliff with only the hope that there was some good to be achieved by her jumping.
Leaping over roots, she followed the twisting path, her view of the trail ahead obscured by tree trunks and waist-high bushes, bobbing and swaying. Her blood hammered in her throat and in her ears as her feet pounded the ground, until her boot hit something hard and she slammed into the path, knees first, then her chest, knocking the wind out of her. The stinging scrapes shocked her and she rolled over, tasting peaty dirt mingling with blood, leaves clinging to her clothes. A cry welled up in her throat but refused release.
Flat on her back, Kira looked up through knobby, stripped branches at the starless sky, feeling sharp waves of pain stabbing through her knees. She clenched her teeth, focused intently on controlling her breathing.
She lay on her back, listening to the murmuring wind, the occasional crack of a breaking branch, the swish of bird wings. Staring at the sky, she pretended the wormhole was fixed above her position, promising herself that if she could see the flash of it opening…
She waited. She waited until damp numbness overtook her limbs and still, nothing. I don’t know what I was expecting. I should just go back. Kas will be worried.She sighed. Kira might have witnessed her share of miracles—and had exquisite spiritual experiences in her lifetime—but she wasn’t foolish enough to believe that the Prophets gave you a sign simply because you asked for one.
Grunting, she eased herself up so she was sitting with her legs stretched out in front of her. Luckily, it didn’t feel like she’d sprained or broken anything, though she could feel small rocks embedded in the skin of her kneecaps.
She brushed herself off and then, placing the heels of her hands behind her, she pushed off, succeeding only in dislodging a stone she’d braced herself against. Let’s see if I can do this without cracking my tailbone, too,she thought ruefully. But then her fingers brushed against the stone again, piquing her curiosity. This isn’t a rock.Yanking it free from where it was wedged under an exposed root, Kira held it out in front of her, hoping a beam of light breaking through the forest’s canopy would help her better see what she held.
She thought her eyes must be playing tricks on her.
Her hands began furiously brushing off the dirt encrusting the object. Muddy, frayed, and lost here among the trees of Captain Sisko’s land since when, she couldn’t say. But there was no denying what she held in her hand.
A baseball.
Stitching unraveling, leather stained and pocked, and so waterlogged it was unusable—but none of it changed the fact that Kira held one of the Emissary’s baseballs. Her mind raced. Kas had told her he used to bat them out here to clear his head, but—
Slowly, Kira smiled. Then the laughter came, softly at first, but gathering strength until it engulfed her.
Knowing Kasidy would be waiting, Kira returned to the path and pointed herself toward home.
MISSION: GAMMA CONTINUES IN
BOOK THREE
CATHEDRAL
About the Author
Heather Jarman lives in Portland, Oregon. This Gray Spiritis her first work of professional fiction. She plans to return to the Star Trekuniverse soon.
Look for STAR TREK fiction from Pocket Books
Star Trek®
Enterprise: The First Adventure• Vonda N. McIntyre
Strangers From the Sky• Margaret Wander Bonanno
Final Frontier• Diane Carey
Spock’s World• Diane Duane
The Lost Years• J.M. Dillard
Prime Directive• Judith and Garfield Reeves-Stevens
Probe• Margaret Wander Bonanno
Best Destiny• Diane Carey
Shadows on the Sun• Michael Jan Friedman
Sarek• A.C. Crispin
Federation• Judith and Garfield Reeves-Stevens
Vulcan’s Forge• Josepha Sherman & Susan Shwartz
Mission to Horatius• Mack Reynolds
Vulcan’s Heart• Josepha Sherman & Susan Shwartz
The Eugenics Wars: The Rise and Fall of Khan Noonien Singh, Books Oneand Two• Greg Cox
The Last Round-Up• Christie Golden
Novelizations
Star Trek: The Motion Picture• Gene Roddenberry
Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan• Vonda N. McIntyre