Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Spoilers: The chapters refer to events and settings in "Terok Nor: Day of the Vipers" by James Swallow and "Terok Nor: Night of the Wolves" by S. and Britta Dennison. The food, the flora, the fauna and the units of time and distance are consistent with the "Terok Nor" trilogy, "Deep Space Nine" episodes, Memory Alpha and Beta. The story describes events that take place during the Occupation. Reader discretion is advised. Chapters 2 and 3 contain a rape and a surgical treatment but nothing graphic or too descriptive. The rating is M just to be on the safe side.
Chapter 1
"After one look at this planet any visitor from outer space would say 'I want to see the manager.'" William S. Burroughs
2359, Bajor, refugee camp Agara
Glinn Kottrag passed through the checkpoint followed by three of his soldiers. He hated inspecting the camp – it was nerve-racking and depressing but sometimes he had to do it. The check point consisted of a wooden booth with two sentries circling the perimeter around the booth. It was ridiculous – the camp had no fences.
The infantry officer wondered why they had a checkpoint when the entire population of the camp roamed the near-by forest and the women brought water from a river that flowed 400 decas away. Still, everyone caught too far from the river and the forest needed a good explanation or a valid pass otherwise they were considered stragglers and thieves. The people from the camp rarely ventured that far – the camp provided them with some food and protection.
Most of them were ordinary people who had lost their farms and jobs because of rushed, ill-targeted reprisal acts. When a Resistance cell and their supporters among the locals bombed a Cardassian outpost, a settlement or a factory manned with non-forced workers, the local gul overreacted and ordered a punitive strike against the nearest population centers.
The survivors were dumped at camps like this one so he had to look after them until the authorities provided them with a new place to live and work. The Prefect himself was appalled by the vicious cycle creating both refugees and more Resistance and had issued an order that all reprisal acts had to be sanctioned by him but the province guls usually by-passed it by claiming it was a matter of emergency and they did not have time to wait for the order to go through the channels. Most of them truly hated the moratorium on reprisal acts and believed that it only served to embolden the Resistance.
Glinn Kottrag shook his head, musing over the big political issues would not change the fact that these creatures, though Bajorans, were here and he had to keep them alive and out of harm's way. Both things were a formidable task because when the Bajorans did not attack Cardassian settlements, they were extremely resourceful at fighting petty wars against each other.
The reasons were stupid and insignificant – a dirty look, a d'jarra issue, black market goods, a kid beating another kid, sheer envy for being less fortunate than someone else. People coming from one region kept to themselves and despised people from other regions. It was difficult to fathom how many reasons the Bajorans could come up with to hate each other and segregate each other. Everyone outside their family, clan, or d'jarra was an enemy.
The Cardassian officer had given up trying to negotiate and solve their quarrels and disputes because he had only 30 men who lived in a garrison next to the camp and only a force field isolated him and his soldiers from 500 Bajorans. He refused to put his people's lives at risk on account of the Bajoran never-ending vendettas and passionate stubbornness.
His only concern and ambition was to make sure that he and his soldiers would get home in one piece. He did not mind dying for the Union, sacrificing himself for making his children's lives safer and ensuring better future for his nation but being killed on this cold mud-hole of a planet by vindictive primitives who he had to feed and protect was not worth it.
Glinn Kottrag would not have bothered to enter the camp if not for the liaison officer who had inspected him two days earlier. The guy was part of the Terok Nor crew and was accountable to the Prefect himself. Glinn Hissar, this was his name, turned out to be quite reasonable and approachable unlike most officers in the Guard who snubbed the Militia. The man was not arrogant; he listened carefully to Kottrag's explanations, asked only relevant questions, and did not jump to conclusions.
He interviewed Bajorans from the camp at random, spoke to the soldiers, and questioned the collaborators who received the food supplies, cooked for the camp, and operated the food lines. There was not a medic so the paramedic of the garrison had to treat the Bajorans as well and Hissar had a word with him too.
After a two days' investigation he informed Glinn Kottrag that according to the camp documentation each adult Bajoran in the camp should be fed the equivalent of 2000 calories a day, children – 1500 calories respectively. This calorie intake could hardly make them fat but was enough for people who did not do any physical labor apart from daily chores. He checked the food that was given to the Bajorans and found out that it was a watery soup that contained no more than 700-800 calories per serving. He also ascertained that the bread was less than the prescribed amount.
Kottrag listened dutifully to the flying dude from Terok Nor and wondered whether he knew or cared that his own soldiers ate even worse food because they were used to replicated food and no one had ever taught them how to cook katterpod beans and kava root and how to make bread out of mapa flour. The collaborators were not allowed into the garrison so soldiers had to be assigned to KP duty every day and every day the food was horrible.
They had not seen a sonic shower since they had been transferred from the settlement in Jo'kala and stationed here in the wilderness. The water was delivered by means of primitive pumps from the river and was heated by dilithium boilers so they had running hot water at least. They did not drink it – it was for bathing and cleaning. The paramedic decontaminated several containers of water for drinking and food preparation.
Finally, the liaison officer told Kottrag that he suspected a major fraud scheme that involved the collaborators and the gang which the Militia officer used to run the camp for him. The collaborators sold the food to the gang and the gang provided food, medicines, household amenities, clothes and protection in exchange for jewelry, money or services and severe indebtedness. This thought had crossed Glinn Kottrag's mind but he had always considered it a purely Bajoran matter – as long as they did not kill each other openly, he did not give a shit how they screwed up each other.
Before leaving, the Terok Nor officer gave him a long list of recommendations and rated the camp efficiency as "passable" which was next to "unsatisfactory." He also advised the infantry glinn to do something about the gang and to keep the collaborators in check. Another suggestion specified gaining the trust and respect of the common camp residents who were neither gang members nor collaborators.
The inspecting officer was positive that the glinn should adopt a more decisive approach while maintaining the law and order in the camp. Still, he ended the briefing on the positive note and told him that he had faith in Kottrag's abilities and had not found evidence of embezzlements or cruelties involving Cardassians and he hoped that on his next visit he would see significant improvement and would be able to mark the camp as "satisfactory".
Glinn Hissar was well-intentioned and showed sympathy for his responsibilities, Kottrag appreciated that. He clearly gave him a chance to clear up his own house without outside administrative pressure. It was kind, but still Glinn Kottrag had no idea what to do.
His inquisitors at the secondary school used to joke that Kottrag was not dull – he simply thought slowly, it took him ages to make a decision. What they did not know was that once he decided what exactly he wanted to do, few people could stop him. That was why he had joined the Militia, someone else made the decisions and he simply did what they told him to do.
He let out a frustrated breath and strode on the muddy path leading to the center of a shantytown encompassing tents and makeshift huts put together from discarded debris. The Cardassian daintily avoided the puddles – it had rained recently and he really hated seeing mud and soil on his carefully polished boots. It was chilly according to the Cardassian standards, although the Bajorans considered it a normal warm day.
He could hardly wait to finish with the inspection and return to the familiar surroundings of the garrison. The glinn was wondering whether Garresh Varga, who served the KP duty today, would manage to create something edible – he claimed his mother was a great cook and it ran in the family. Last time when it was his turn, the result was so vile that everyone ate field rations.
His sullen gaze moved to a group of men sitting on crates and empty boxes, smoking hiuna leaves – terrible habit but they seemed to enjoy it. They never seemed to do anything but talking and gesticulating vividly. They could bring wood from the forest or water from the river, they could do something about their dirty, ignorant children who bickered in the mud like porwiggies, but they would not budge. There was so much to be done; they could dig trenches to make sure the next rain would not swamp their hovels.
The women did not expect anything from their men. They trudged in groups of two or three to the river, carrying bundles of dirty clothes and dishes and empty containers. They washed the clothes, rinsed the dishes and hung the wet clothes on nearby tree branches, rocks or ragged clotheslines. Finally, they filled the containers with water for drinking and cooking and dragged them back to the camp.
The bigger children and the teenagers formed gangs, roamed the camp and fought each other, trying to pinch something in the meanwhile. He wondered how come some families had food to cook while others relied entirely on the food lines. Still, Hissar was right – most of them looked too scrawny.
What depressed the glinn most was the lack of togetherness and mutual concern in the family. A Cardassian family wasn't that way. They would approach the problem united and would concentrate on their predicament and everyone would do their best. He could not imagine letting his wife drag these containers all by herself. He would hate himself, she would despise him and she would never forgive him. The children would stay at their mother's beck and call, ready to fetch things or do whatever she told them.
The glinn would do the same by the way. It was his wife who made the decisions at home and he had never seen any reason to oppose her judgment. She had a lot of common sense and knew how to run the house. All he had to do was to do his job and to provide the means. He never argued about cooking, shopping, renovations, household appliances – if she said something was necessary then it was.
Glinn Kottrag gathered himself – thinking of his family on Cardassia IV would do him no good. He was here on Bajor and had responsibilities. A commotion coming from the food line drew his attention. He saw the leader of the gang Limo Rattan sprinting after a girl who was hastily departing carrying a mess-tin with soup. She threw a glace over her shoulder, her eyes had the most striking electric blue and she barred her teeth like an angry hara-cat. She quickly slipped the bread into her bosom, put her hand in the mess-tin, raked out the vegetables floating in the soup, and stuffed them in her mouth.
It was so shamelessly revolting and absurd that the Cardassian could not tore his gaze from the scene. Most Bajorans looked bedraggled and rural but she struck him as almost feral. When Limo reached her, she spun around; her clotted black hair swished like a whirlpool and spilled the rest of the soup in his face. Limo shielded his eyes defensively, she slammed the metal tin into his nose and gave him a well aimed kick in the balls.
Then she picked up her tin and was about to dash away but one of Limo's henchmen popped up from behind and pushed her in the back. She fell but managed to re-group before hitting the ground, stretched one of her long legs and kicked him behind the knee so he lost balance and knelt. She quickly grabbed a handful of mud from a puddle, slapped it in his eyes, and knocked him down with a kick in the jaw.
Limo had regained his balance and was to jump on her again but Kottrag decided to interfere – there was so much spirit in her that he involuntarily took her side. The people at the food line threw glances but outwardly pretended that they did not notice anything – as long as Limo bullied someone else's wife or daughter, everything was fine.
Kottrag made two steps toward Limo and his soldiers deployed behind him watching the food line and Limo's men. "That's enough, Limo. What do you have with this woman?" the Cardassian demanded gruffly.
Limo blinked, a hint of irritation pervaded his rodent face, but he suppressed it, lowered his head, and answered with a phony demure, "She is the biggest trouble maker in the camp, Glinn Kottrag. I am just trying to maintain the law and order."
"You attacked her while she was walking away," the officer pointed out accusingly.
"She does not respect…my authority," the Bajoran answered meekly but a nasty glitter flashed in his eyes. Kottrag shifted his gaze to where the girl was but she was not there. He looked at his men ready to reprimand them if they had let her sneak away when he realized that the three of them were staring at something with a mixture of astonishment and repulsion.
She was squatting where Limo had fallen and was gathering pieces of vegetables from her soup that was soaking in the ground.
Kottrag addressed one of his soldiers, "Resh Ozrik, do you have a field ration on you?"
"Yes, Glinn, I do. Can I …?" he confirmed and glanced at the woman.
"Yes, throw it to her," Kottrag readily permitted. She looked even thinner than the other Bajoran women. Probably because she was quite lanky.
The resh threw the field ration to the woman, she grabbed it in the air and hid it into her bosom. She stood up and peered at the soldiers and Limo's men calmly and calculatingly.
Glinn Kottrag assumed his most grim expression and warned Limo, "If I ever see you doing something like this again, you won't have any authority to worry about. Mark my words." He turned to the girl and snarled, "Off you go, you cocky wench!" and she vacated the place in a flash.
The Cardassian officer shook his head, disgusted and amused at the same time, and continued his inspection. Limo kept his head down while the glinn and the reshes passed by but he did not feel threatened or frightened at all. He knew he was indispensible; who would run the camp, who would provide the glinn and some of the soldiers with women, who would sell the Caries jewelry that the Bajorans had bartered for food and medicines.
This was nothing but a cheap show for the masses – the glinn restoring the order, investigating and negotiating an act of violence. He would not enter the camp within a month's time and soon he would feel lonely and homesick and would order a woman.