Wrath of the Prophets Page 18

  It was all Kira could do not to laugh. "You've got to be kidding."

  The Kai looked at her. "'Kidding'? My child, why would I jest about this great miracle?"

  "It wasn't anything miraculous," Kira insisted. "It was the runabouts from Deep Space Nine. They seeded the clouds with the antidote, caused the rain that carried the antidote with it, and that was that. The Prophets weren't crying. There was just us—just mortals doing their jobs. I'm sorry if that's not spectacular enough for you, but, well … that's what happened."

  Kai Winn sighed deeply. "My dear Kira … sometimes I think you will say or do anything in order to mock my beliefs."

  "It's not a matter of mockery! It's—" The major threw up her hands in disgust. "Oh, what do I care. Believe what you want. Believe it was the Prophets' tears, if you want—that's probably what you're telling everybody already. Believe in whatever you want to believe in. Me, I know the truth—and that's all that matters."

  The Kai made a gesture of acceptance. "You know your truth, child—and I know mine."

  "Truth is truth," Kira maintained. She bowed slightly. "Good day to you, Kai." Then she turned and headed for the door.

  "Kira."

  The major stopped and frowned, her shoulders slightly hunched. "Yes?" she replied.

  "Let us say, for the sake of argument, that you are correct—and that the cure was generated through the efforts of Deep Space Nine."

  "Okay. Let's say that."

  Winn considered her benignly. "Then tell me … would you dismiss the interpretation that the cure was discovered as a result of the will of the Prophets? Divine inspiration, perhaps? Would you allow this as, say, a possibility, Kira Nerys?"

  The major considered her answer long and hard. She thought about everything they had encountered, everything that she and her friends on Deep Space Nine had had to overcome.

  "I suppose … it's possible, yes. When you put it that way, anything is possible."

  The Kai nodded approvingly. "There's hope for you yet, Kira Nerys."

  CHAPTER

  17

  THERE WAS ONE great constant in governments throughout the galaxy. When a problem presented itself, the same solution was invariably offered: the formation of a committee.

  Which was why Kira and Ro found themselves seated before the black-market committee, convened as soon as the smuggling network was exposed. Kira didn't recognize any of the four individuals seated upon it, except for one—the committee's chairman, a severe-looking Bajoran woman named Keree Lawr.

  Keree regarded both Kira and Ro as if they were some new form of bacteria. The two women had just finished giving a complete and detailed account of their experiences and encounters within the realm of the black market.

  "This committee formally extends its thanks to you, Kira Nerys," said Keree Lawr, "for the names and locations you have provided us. You have our assurance that the matter will be fully investigated and the perpetrators appropriately dealt with."

  There was a dead silence that hung there for a time, and then Kira said, "Is that it?"

  Keree eyed her. "Yes. Unless you have something to add."

  Sensing what Kira was about to say, Ro told her softly, "No, don't do it."

  But the major didn't listen to her. "I think there should be some formal acknowledgment of Ro Laren's part in all this," Kira said, making no attempt to hide her annoyance. "Ro was by my side the entire time, endured the same hardships, took the same risks. You thank me and not her. Why is that?"

  Keree Lawr stared at her as if she'd blown out several key brain cells. "You want an official recognition of a member of the Maquis from the Bajoran government?"

  Ro was telling her this wasn't necessary, but Kira wasn't having any of it. "I want you to acknowledge that I would likely be dead if it weren't for her. Unless that doesn't matter to you, either."

  With open disdain, Keree Lawr said, "It is comforting to know you think so highly of what matters and doesn't matter to your government, particularly considering how little you've been a part of it. You have been away from us, and your world, for extended periods of time, Kira Nerys—and as the Terrans say, out of sight is out of mind. So I'll admit we have been giving very little thought to you one way or the other."

  Kira bristled, about to fire back a response, but Keree steamrolled right over her. "As for Ro Laren, we repeat, she is part of the Maquis—an illegal organization. The Maquis may consider themselves to be well-intentioned, and the foodstuffs Ro Laren brought as an intermediate measure were appreciated. Ultimately, however, what good the Maquis has done is outweighed by the threat they pose to the young treaty with Cardassia."

  Kira couldn't believe this. But then, maybe she should have expected it.

  "It is going to be our recommendation to the full council," said Keree, "and our explicit instruction to you, Ro Laren … that you depart and not return until the Maquis has been disbanded and its leaders brought to account.

  "You sit here now under a flag of truce extended by Captain Sisko, and we will not violate that understanding. And when the Maquis is no longer, your actions in this matter will certainly weigh heavily in your favor. But until that time, we suggest you leave Bajor immediately. And once you have left, under no circumstances should you return until—"

  "I get the picture," Ro said sharply, getting to her feet.

  No longer was she endeavoring to hold back Kira. Clearly, her own anger was coming to the forefront.

  "Now let me paint a new picture for you," said the Maquis. "This 'young treaty' of yours is never going to live to be an old treaty."

  Keree leaned forward, "Is that a Maquis threat?"

  "No," Ro told her. "It's a personal prediction, and its death is not going to have anything to do with the Maquis. You—you and your associates and this whole damned world—are being led into a trap by the Cardassians, and you're walking into it with a smile, sticking out your necks and inviting the executioner's ax.

  "It might happen tomorrow, or a year from tomorrow, but sooner or later that trap is going to be sprung, and you'll be turning to the Maquis, begging for us to help you out. And you know what's the most sickening thing of all? We will help you out—because we believe in Bajor, even if Bajor doesn't believe in us."

  "Are you through?" Keree asked.

  "Yes," Ro said. "No … one other thing." She pointed at Kira. "I didn't like the way you spoke to her just then. As if she's somehow lesser than you because she's up on Deep Space Nine and you're down here. Kira Nerys is making more of a difference in Bajor's future through her work aboard that station than anything you pathetic little people are doing on Bajor.

  "And by keeping her distance, Kira is able to avoid the whole moral mire that Bajor is getting sucked into. She's incorruptible, Keree. She can't be bought. She can't be bargained with. When she sinks her teeth into something, you can't shake her loose, no matter how much you try.

  Ro's voice grew louder with righteous indignation. "And you have the nerve to look upon Major Kira with disdain? You should be praying to the Prophets that you can find a hundred more like her, rather than turning up your nose at the one you've got."

  And then she turned on her heel and left the room. Without a word, Kira hurried off after her, leaving the black-market-committee members looking at each other in mild confusion.

  The major caught up with Ro in the hallway outside. "I was about to head over to the main chamber," she said. "The rest of the council is in session, and they're going to be deciding what to do about Varis Sul. I thought I'd show up, give Sul some moral support. Captain Sisko will be there and …" She shrugged. "Do you want to come?"

  Ro gave it a moment's thought. "No," she answered at last. "No, I think my being there, sitting in her corner, could only poison her chances. I'd best be on my way."

  She started to walk again, and Kira called after her. "That's it?"

  Ro turned to her. "That's what?"

  "Well, it's …" Kira cleared her throat. "Those things you sai
d about me—did you mean all that, or was it just to annoy those sanctimonious twits?"

  Ro considered it a moment. "Some of both, I think," she said. "About half and half."

  "Oh. Well … okay." Kira paused. "Laren …"

  "Yeah, Nerys?"

  "Watch your back, okay?"

  Ro smiled. "Why? Are you going to come gunning for it?"

  Kira smiled back at her. "Don't worry. Even if I do, my aim has been known to go bad from time to time."

  The Maquis nodded, turned again, and walked away.

  Sisko had visited the so-called Bajoran Chamber before, when he first came to Deep Space Nine. It was a large high-ceilinged room, dominated by a semicircular podium. There were nine seats on the podium, the one in the middle belonging to the head of the provisional government.

  At one point, it had looked as if that might be Kai Winn. And what a disaster that would have been, he mused, as he watched the tall imposing form of First Minister Shakaar enter the room.

  The eight other officials that sat on the planetary council filed in behind him, one by one. And one by one, they took their seats on the podium.

  Ompar Tenzil was conspicuous by his absence. His seat on the council had been taken by another individual from his province.

  Kira leaned toward Sisko and whispered, "They don't look very happy, do they?"

  "No," agreed the captain, "they don't."

  But that was hardly a surprise. When one's entire civilization was placed in jeopardy, one tended to look harshly on those who were to blame for it. To say the least.

  Jake, who was standing on Sisko's other side, heaved a sigh. "What do you think they'll do to her?" he asked.

  The captain shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't know."

  It was only after all the ministers had composed themselves that a door opened on the other side of the chamber—and Varis Sul walked in, flanked by a couple of Bajoran security officers. In Sisko's eyes, Varis looked like a child in the company of hard-eyed adults.

  Of course, that wasn't too far from the truth. Despite the responsibilities she had taken upon herself, the girl was a little older than Jake.

  But it wasn't for that reason alone that the captain hoped the council would be lenient. It was because whatever crimes Varis had committed, she'd only acted out of concern for her people.

  As Varis came to a stop before Shakaar, who sat at the center of the semicircle, she raised her eyes to him. Despite the seriousness of her situation, she didn't waver. She didn't make a sound. She just stood there and waited for First Minister Shakaar to address her.

  Shakaar didn't keep her waiting. "This council has convened," he announced to all present, including the sprinkling of interested spectators standing around the chamber, "to decide the fate of Varis Sul, tetrarch of Paqu Village." He lowered his eyes to meet the girl's. "Do you understand the charges brought against you?" he asked.

  Varis nodded. "I do. I am charged with endangering the lives of my people—the very thing I was sworn to protect. I am charged with dealing in the black market, which stands contrary to the interests of Bajor. And, lastly, I am charged with defying the authority of the provisional government."

  "That about sums it up," Kira remarked.

  Jake didn't say anything. He just looked worried.

  Shakaar considered the young tetrarch. "And do you deny any of these charges? Have you anything to say in your defense?"

  Varis shook her head. "Nothing," she told him. "I am guilty—and I will accept whatever punishment this council sees fit to inflict upon me."

  Sisko sighed. It was clear that the youngster had learned her lesson. Unfortunately, that might not be enough.

  Shakaar turned from Varis and addressed the onlookers. "What of you witnesses? Have you anything to say on behalf of the accused?"

  It was a rhetorical question, a vestige of older forms of trial that no longer survived on Bajor. No one expected an answer, least of all Shakaar.

  The captain hadn't expected one, either. So he was as surprised as anyone when it came from his own mouth.

  "I would like to speak on Varis Sul's behalf," he replied, in a loud but even voice. "Even if she will not speak for herself."

  Shakaar looked at him. So did the rest of the council, and Kira, and Jake. And so, at last, did the accused.

  "I am grateful," she told him. "But this is unnecessary."

  "No," Sisko said, stepping forward to separate himself from the other onlookers. "I think this is very necessary."

  "Go, Dad," Jake whispered.

  Shakaar made a gesture of invitation to him. "By all means, Captain Sisko—speak."

  The captain gathered his thoughts before he started. After all, Varis's life might be changed by what he had to say.

  "The one on trial here," he began, "is Varis Sul, tetrarch of Paqu village. However, she is only partly responsible for the chain of events that placed Bajor in jeopardy and flaunted the authority of the government."

  One of the secondary ministers leaned forward. "Are you saying that we should charge someone else with these crimes, in addition to Varis?"

  "I am," Sisko replied. "And that someone, I think, is you."

  The minister looked aghast. "Me? What are you saying?" Suddenly pale, he looked around at the others on the council. "I assure you, I did nothing wrong."

  But his peers looked uneasy. No doubt, they were thinking of Ompar Tenzil, and wondering how many of him there might be.

  "Perhaps not as an individual," the captain went on, pleased to have achieved the desired effect. "However, as a member of the council, you are as guilty as anyone else for the marginal and sometimes even miserable conditions that still prevail on this world."

  "That's ridiculous," muttered another of the ministers—this one a female. "We've dedicated our lives to the restoration of Bajor."

  "But to what effect?" Sisko asked her. "This government is riddled with power-brokers and profit-seekers. Perhaps you yourself have committed no crimes, but you've allowed others to do so. Otherwise, how could the black market have thrived—at the expense of the population? How could a few greedy men have achieved control over such vast resources?"

  "In other words," said Shakaar, unperturbed, "we on the council created an onerous set of conditions—if not directly, then indirectly. And given those conditions, Varis had no choice but to break our laws."

  The captain eyed the first minister. Shakaar was nobody's fool, he mused. But then, he'd known that for some time already.

  "Of course she had a choice," Sisko conceded. "I'm not saying Varis had no part in this. But if you folks had been doing your jobs, she never would've had to consider buying replicators on the black market—and Bajor would never have been plagued with that virus."

  Shakaar nodded. "Thank you, Captain. I, for one, will take those words to heart. What's more, given my own history, I can't help but sympathize with someone who breaks a couple of laws—especially when it's to keep her people from falling prey to starvation."

  Abruptly his demeanor changed. Sisko wasn't sure what tipped him off to it—a hardening of the man's jawline, perhaps, or a subtle crease in the skin between his eyes. It didn't matter. What did matter was he knew he'd lost his plea for leniency.

  "However," Shakaar continued, "we can't run the risk of someone doing what Varis did. This time, we were lucky. Next time, all of Bajor may pay the price."

  "Merciful Prophets," Kira whispered. "He's going to banish her."

  The captain glanced at his first officer. Her face was ashen.

  "Therefore," said the first minister, "I have no choice but to strip this woman of her title as tetrarch—and exile her from Bajor for the rest of her natural life."

  Varis shuddered, as if she were naked and a chill wind had blown through the room. It seemed to Sisko that she'd expected a lesser punishment to be handed down, despite her willingness to accept whatever she received.

  So had they all, he reflected sadly.

  "No," Jake moaned. He
turned to his father. "They can't do that to her, Dad. It's not right. Varis thought she was doing something good. She wasn't trying to hurt anybody."

  "I know," said the captain. But it didn't change anything.

  "I beg your pardon," came a muted voice from beyond the chamber, "but I do not believe the Prophets would approve of this decision."

  All heads turned toward the door through which Varis had entered. A moment later, no less a dignitary than Kai Winn crossed its threshold and glided into the chamber. Her face, as always, was a mask of serenity, betraying none of the emotions working inside her.

  Shakaar stood. So did the rest of the council, not wishing to appear disrespectful of the Kai—no matter what they may have thought of her personally.

  "We are honored by your presence," said the first minister, bowing his head ever so slightly. "And curious to know why the Prophets would voice an opinion in this matter."

  "The Prophets have not voiced an opinion," Winn replied, her pale blue eyes unwavering in their scrutiny. "As Kai, however, I am qualified to remark on what their opinion would be. And I can tell you, they would not be happy to see Varis Sul banished from her homeworld."

  Careful not to rush and thereby dispel the illusion of inner calm, Winn moved to the girl's side and placed her hand on Varis's cheek. The tetrarch obviously didn't know what to say. The Kai was possibly the last person she had counted on as an ally.

  "Have no fear, child," Winn assured her. "Trust in the Prophets and they will guide you to your salvation."

  The girl shook her head. "I'm not worthy of the Prophets' assistance," she answered. "I'm guilty. I must be punished."

  The Kai smiled her most benevolent smile. It never ceased to amaze Sisko that so many Bajorans actually believed in the woman's sincerity—when it was so clear to him she was merely pursuing her own agenda.

  And what agenda was she pursuing now, in defending the tetrarch? The captain wasn't quite sure. At least, not yet.

  "Don't presume to know more than the Prophets," Winn told Varis. "Guilt and innocence," she continued, casting a meaningful glance at the council, "is only for them to decide."