AUTHOR: Napra
FANDOM: Star Trek Deep Space Nine
PAIRING: Damar/f; R
SETTING: before "When It Rains", then after "What you leave behind"
SUMMARY: They search for ideals, find reason behind illogicality, suffer though their own hands: Former Obsidian Order agent Rulsat arrives at the headquarters of the "Cardassian Liberation Front" where she meets the rebel leader Damar. The encounter wakes long forgotten memories...
DISCLAIMER: Neither infringement nor the gaining of profit is intended; Star Trek and the characters I didn't invent belong to Paramount/Viacom. But the story and my fictional characters are © Napra 2000.
ARCHIVE: Please ask first.
THANKS TO: Esther Schrager for the Kardasi terms I sprinkled around in my story; also for the Cardassian proverbs that inspired me a lot.
KARDASI GLOSSARY:
afmirsharjin = boor; oaf; uncultured lout
alnzeslarya = toady, groveller
barga = shit
chac (pl. chacak) = scale
co = yes
deshkadir, deshkadra = his/her holiness (addressing a priest)
falchikhve! = damn it!
falchiceni = damned
gevan = sir or lord
gevana (pl. gevanin) = ma'am or lady
gulak = pl. of gul
icfin = facial ridges
Kardassha = Cardassia (planet)
karo s'rosdarsh = everything's alright
Kelok = name of the freighter (wolf)
kezdemzan (pl. kezdemzanak) = resistance fighter of the Card. Lib. Front
kezdem kardasshi = Cardassian Liberation Front
kij, kijakh = exclamations of disgust, "yuck"
ku c'vordim! = cheers!
loc = Card. anatomy: teardrop shaped protrusion on forehead and chest
mezan = semen
napra nalcha = good night
napri yoten = good day
obsedjin (pl. obsedjinak)= agent of the obsedni ordar
obsedni ordar = vigilance division (Obsidian Order)
ocrash = neck
osos = abbreviation of obsedni ordar
ras = r, letter in the Kardasi alphabet
shekbar = penis
sheru, sherute = general terms of endearment, "dear"
skahavsa = love for one's country, patriotism
sulosha = Cardassian riding mount (mixture between horse and camel with scales)
tirgevan, tirgevana = very polite form of address
Varagas (adj. Varagasi)= dominant country and culture on Cardassia
yakaf = Central Command
yeji = my
zakhec (pl. zakhcak) = guy, lad
note pronunciation: c like in mats
ch like in change
j like in jerk
kh = loch, Bach
diminutive names: Charimshu, Charu = Charim
'satu = Rulsat
*
Water to a Skeleton
The first woman to step out of the shuttle after the endless identification tests turned round and snarled,
"I'm not sure we really belong here."
The next, who came close behind her, shrugged.
It annoyed Rulsat that her companion didn't speak a word the whole boring ride on the turbo-lift. She had only met the short, podgy lady on the shuttle that had docked at the space-station orbiting Cardassia Prime, didn't even know her name. She hoped not everybody would want to stay as anonymous as in the falchiceni obsedni ordar.
Rulsat had had enough of that for a life-time.
The guide waved his hand for the women to follow him through the rusty gates. They had to be miles under the planet's surface by now.
Well> Rulsat thought as the unlikely three strode through dark tunnels of rock noticing the commotion I always knew mines were a good place to hide. After all it took us ages to track down those traitors on Yegin II...>
She swallowed. Actually she had become a traitor herself. Rulsat tried to push away that issue through concentrating on the good she was prepared to do – for Cardassia.
Soon they reached the light at the end of this tunnel. Soldiers and men in civilian clothing were rushing past hectically. Rulsat wondered what mission the "Liberators" were going to accomplish now.
She had just exchanged glances with her podgy companion before they entered what she thought to be the centre of operations. It was streaked with consoles and control pads. Many view screens covered the uneven rock walls.
There were only two other men in that cave. One, tall and rather lanky, greeted our guide through grabbing his forearm. Then his throaty voice announced,
"The new hackers have arrived."
Before Rulsat could smirk at the thought of the homely looking woman next to her being a computer specialist her blood clotted in her ridges.
The man who had been addressed had swivelled round from a console turned out to be – no, that wasn't possible. She squared her narrow shoulders and combed back an errand strand of hair to maximise her composure. He cast his grey eyes over his shoulder and suddenly got up.
But - he looks just like Legate Damar, the leader of the Liberation Front...> she observed trying to hide her puzzled expression through putting on a polite smile.
"Napri yoten, gevanin!"
I am Damar of the kezdem kardasshi."
It was Damar. Her heart sank. Or did it jump? She didn't usually get so excited about meeting a celebrity – or at least he was a famous outlaw. There was something else about him...
That alnzeslaryawho stood to attention so ridiculously next to her rattled away in an excruciatingly squealy voice,
"Pleased to meet you, tirgevan! I am Ipsa Tidal, former science officer on the warship..."
I wonder how they've always placed the official monitoring devices in such an advantageous angle> she pondered. She had only just noticed Damar's rather small stature for he always seemed to compensate for his lack of height in every way – in every way?
"And who do we have here?" that impossibly resonant high baritone of his ordered. Was that a smirk she detected?
Smacking her lips in feigned self-confidence she answered, "I am Rulsat" and rolled the ras in the highly honourable title, "tirgevan. Maybe I should add that I used to be an agent of the Order."
"Ah, another former obsedjin."
She raised a brow-ridge.
"They serve the lib-front well."
He turned to the console.
"Since I still have some work to do here we're gonna do the briefing in an hour."
Then he looked at the man standing next to him.
"My aide Matur will show you around."
He gave Damar an intriguing look.
Rulsat bit on the insides of her cheeks to prevent a suggestive grin. * "His aide," she muttered to herself as she huddled into the hard bunk trying to make it as comfortable as possible. Even the berths on the Kelok – the freighter she had been assigned to ten years ago - had strained the spinal ridge less.
Gevana Tidal didn't make a sound in her sleep. This annoyed Rulsat because if she snored she could at least hold something against her.
...he makes a fantastic orator> she admitted as she remembered the concentrated, but very emotional way he had defended our poor soldiers being forced to fight for the Dominion at the meeting she'd attended today.
no wonder, with that voice.>
It was no use trying to think about anything sensible in her groggy condition. The whole day, apart from the assembly, she had stared at low-quality view screens that were blurred anyway and fuzzy once the piece of information didn't come from the computer next-door... * * * "Infiltration of every vessel that leaves Cardassian space, kij!" Rulsat spat as she set foot on the sticky floor of the Kelok.
She would have preferred not to see the vole corpses, the excrement, the vermin.
Especially the fact that the 'mission' was to be accomplished alone annoyed her.
One of her superiors had tried to convince her with the enticing argument, "'satu, we all know that you're a perfect solo-operative. You don't need anyone else who would probably get in your way."
The true reason could only be that they weren't able to spare anymore obsedjinak. So many had been executed by Central Command if they hadn't left the Order soon enough.
She was aware that this assignment would be her last and was actually only a euphemism for exile. Her superiors had certainly made sure of an inconspicuous transport.
How charitable of them!> she thought as she strolled through the stuffy corridors trying to avoid touching any handlebars.
Something had definitely gone wrong with the ship's ventilation system for a wave of stench hit her nostrils as the door to her cabin slid open. As if the last person to have stayed here had been a Klingon alcoholic with transpiration problems.
There was nothing else to do for the night than read her orders from the glin who commanded this heap of duranium, for sleep which was a difficult task considering her snoring neighbours. Maybe this ship was made of tin after all...
First thing in the morning before her shift she found
herself a cutting device and shortened her hip-long hair to soldier's length
and plastered it back. Rulsat wasn't optimally mobile in her dark-grey
felt dress, but it was rough, tough and covered her neck-ridges well –
an important detail on a freighter full of lonely soldiers.
"What are we doing here on this barga transport?" the obviously frustrated young woman exclaimed as she plunged onto a chair in the refectory.
"I wasn't aware that this freighter transported shit," the man sitting opposite her replied staring into his bowl.
She nearly burst out laughing and spat in her cup.
"Don't tell me you haven't noticed the filth on this trash can!"
Rulsat dipped the bread crust into her tea and shoved it in her mouth.
"What do you do here?"
He lifted his head to face her. Rulsat swallowed hard. He was the most - disturbing sight she had seen for a long time. Icfin and grey eyes weren't in perfect proportion to each other, but had a decisive effect on the scales at the nape of her neck. The shape of his mouth reminded her of a rose someone had shown her in the desert of central Varagas...
"I could talk about my navigation post and the problems flying this thing through ionic storms," he muttered into his bowl again, "but I don't think you'd be interested in that."
Not the jolliest of people, but, gulak, those shoulders...>
"You must be a good pilot being in charge of the navigation at such a young age," she continued out loud.
The zakhec simply picked up his bowl and swallowed with relish as though he really enjoyed the ration broth. Then he banged the bowl on the table and leant back slipping a little lower under the surface.
Rulsat exhaled slowly and remarked, "Such a hectic noise in here, don't you think? Clattering spoons, shuffling chairs, and no people really disputing..."
"Except you and yourself." He added pushing his chin forward.
"Maybe you could take part in the discussion, sheru?"
He only raised one side of his upper lip and chuckled.
What an annoying smirk it was that flit across his attractive features!
Then he simply got up, turned round and maybe not conscious of the tightness
of his uniform trousers that emphasised his irresistible buttocks he strolled
out of the refectory.
The next couple of days consisted of registering and filing Kelok's cargo. The quiet, introverted helmsman never made any attempt of communication in any way. Shocking how she nearly approached him once she had been ordered to the bridge.
One night when her late shift was done Rulsat made her way to her cabin. Her back was aching from the stiffening positions she had to work and sleep in. Suddenly she felt a heavy hand plunge on her shoulder and she halted.
"I think we need to have a little talk, Rulsat,"
It was the unmistakable voice of supervising officer Glin Rokhpar. The smoky timbre opposed to the watery eyes which expression could merge from loathing to salacious desire in a split second whilst observing her and this had always kept her on edge in his presence. Now his touch made her stomach churn.
She forced out an overstated "What can I do for you, gevan?" while she turned around. She didn't look into his eyes.
"Firstly you may address me 'Rokhpar'."
Practically unnoticeable he brushed her arm when he lowered his hand from her shoulder. She felt relieved when she found it to stay at his side.
"I have noticed some insufficiency concerning your work," his gaze travelled from the floor to her face, "but the data tell me that you were excellent in filing."
Her nose quivered.
"My, didn't you expect me to have studied the osos files?"
A hoarse laugh echoed through the corridors.
"You're disappointed that this little assignment didn't save your scales after the decline of the obsedni ordar, aren't you? Or is it the fact that you were already certain that you could twist the new staff of officers around your little finger..."
"Excuse me, gevan, what has that to do with my ability and motivation as a cargo co-ordinator?"
"Gevan!" she heard a familiar voice accompanying the clatter of his boots on the metal floor. How convenient> she thought relieved.
"I am indeed sorry, gevan, that I must interrupt you like this, but there has been a problem with ..."
Actually it was quite irrelevant why Glin Rokhpar followed the helmsman's advice. She was only glad to be able to go to bed.
Hours went by. Sleepless hours. What if Rokhpar informed Central Command about the under-cover obsedjin. They would willingly shield their eyes to any violation of her rights as a Cardassian citizen so Glin Rokhpar would be free to throw her out of the next bulk-hole.
Her heart stopped at the sound of heavy army boots along the corridor that had to stop in front of her cabin of course.
The door chime rang. Rulsat decided against self-denial. She couldn't hide from the glin forever.
"Enter," she said trying to stay calm. She combed her dishevelled hair behind her ears, straightened her clothing and awaited her fate.
"What a - pleasant surprise!" she stammered brushing her brow-ridges briefly.
"I – just wanted to see how you were," answered the man standing in the door who was not Glin Rokhpar. It turned out to be the delicious helmsman of this ship. She noticed how awkward his stance was with his hands folded at the back.
"Me –" She looked down on her arms and legs, "I'm not hurt –"
She smiled raising an eye-ridge, "-yet."
The man slapped his thigh and mumbled something about not wanting to disturb her and better getting some sleep always stiffly turning his head to the direction he wanted to head. He had already wished her a "napra nalcha" and turned to leave, but she jumped to her feet in slight confusion about his apparent loss of confidence.
"I-" she began and touched his forearm, "wanted to thank you for saving my - maybe not my life, but my night."
His eyes discoursed.
"Coming in?" she asked at last.
He pursed his lips as his eyes rested on her covered clavicle. Rulsat had to stop herself grinning at the fact that if she wore high heels, she would tower over the man.
The door hissed closed.
"Since my quarters are barely bigger than a shuttle cabin, I'm afraid we've got to sit on the bed," she moaned rummaging around under the bed.
"Gulak, at this lighting I won't even be able to find vole excrement."
The helmsman laughed convivially as he sprawled his, no doubt exhausted, limbs across the plank-bed his stretched armour squeaking.
"There we have it!" came a faint voice from under the bed.
When she crawled out she found the man's head peeping over the edge curiously close to her face. "What?"
"My only precious bottle of kanar – don't ask me what year."
He suddenly snatched the ornamented bottle out of her hand and exclaimed,
"Perfect!"
Then he reached down to pull her on her feet again.
"Where in Kardassha did you get that from?"
"Oh, I've learned ways how to pass through security checks."
Rulsat flashed him an intriguing glance.
As his fingers slid around the wound glass of the bottle he asked,
"You aren't in the – Order, are you?"
"I'm afraid I don't have any glasses – anymore – if you know what I mean."
She grinned at him mischievously, but he only took another sip of the precious liquor.
"Em, actually I intended to share it," she pointed out his possessive capture of the kanar.
She scratched his hand as he handed her the bottle – she hadn't intended to, but she had. And it must have hurt, but he didn't make a sound, only looked her deeply in the eye and said,
"Ku c'vordim! And thanks for the invitation."
"Prime. Prime, of course," he answered staring absently into the bottle.
"I was born on Prime!"
His face beamed with pride when he looked up. For a moment she could feel the radiance of the sun and forgot the sterile light that was locked onto her heels everywhere on this ship. It brought back memories of a hearth, warm rocks and drought.
"Before my mother was appointed first science assistant on one of the colonies in the Treseg system, my family lived near the western Varagasi border, you'll probably not know the town."
Her thoughts drifted off –
"The vast steppes, did you..."
"I went on treks across the plains ever since I can remember, every day I could -with my brother."
He pursed his lips in thought.
Rulsat swallowed.
"Suppose it was hard for you to leave Varagas," she said quietly.
"No."
She stared at him.
"It wasn't ?"
He pouted at her and blurted out,
"If you lose your elder brother to – to the Order!"
Rulsat felt a blow of guilt between her ribs. Not really because she was an obsedjin herself – or rather had been, as she recalled suddenly. But it was the memory of the expression on her own younger brother's face as she had departed from home. She'd ignored it with a sly, self-satisfied smile and marched off to her new family.
Meditatively the man added, "There was not much left for me at home."
"Heh," he chuckled, "I remember when the only message we had ever got from him was transmitted. It contained a suggestion: we should leave the planet for our own safety. I just came home from a night alone in the local tavern as drunk as a newt. My mother didn't say a word – just – rushed and rummaged about in the house, her face as cold as stone..."
"On Treseg IV I soon found an occupation, " he sobered himself up, "I went to the military training camp there, I joined the army."
"What brought you here to this stinky old freighter, if you pardon my impudence."
She smiled, yet felt a sting in the depths of her stomach.
"It was one of my academy coaches," he groaned raising his brow-ridges, "I was said to be a qualified pilot in the camp so they allocated me to the next incoming ship – that was the Kelok."
"You're lucky that yakaf didn't assign you to the Federation border – the Fed Wars would've been your time."
"What do you mean?!" the man suddenly shouted definitely incensed by the kanar, "There was nothing I'd have wanted to do more than defend Cardassia!"
The young obsedjin wasn't thrown off track and answered straight-forwardly,
"There are so many suicidal zakhcak like you. I have met quite few during my time –"
"During your time in the obsedni ordar interrogating and torturing citizens of the Cardassian Union? Sometimes I think the obsedjinak weren't our people's safety guardians, but its peril!"
"Now listen here, sheru," she snarled back leaning over to him closely, "I can't say I'm sorry that I left the Order, unofficially of course."
Rulsat took a deep breath, "But at least there was a greater intellectual challenge in my craft than you soldiers will ever get by blasting disruptors!"
His trembling lip curled up on one side, Rulsat could
feel the tension building up inside him, but she kept her eyes locked onto
his. With a snap he had caught her wrists in a tight grip and forced her
down onto her back.
The plank-bed creaked from the weight of their bodies. Rulsat, who was lying under the helmsman, could feel the edges of his armour dig into her flesh till the point of pain. The bulge at the front of his trousers felt a little more pleasurable than that as he ground his hips against hers.
"I must confess," she gasped for air, "skahavsa is not what I had in mind tonight."
At last she got to know what it felt like to be kissed by those rosebud lips of his. The agility of their rough tongues created a dance like two serpents in a cave while their fingers intertwined with each other's raven hair. She writhed under his probing nibbles along her jaw, ear and neck, but used this moment of oral freedom to add,
"Tell me your name..."
She gasped at the way his strong arms scooped her up to rip the zipper down her slender back,
"It might be of use - later on."
She was lucky to get a word in between his violent sucking and biting along her neck-ridge that made her either giggle or gasp.
"Charim..." he mumbled against her hair.
"Well in that case, Charim –" moaned Rulsat as she pushed him on his back, "I am pleased to make the acquaintance."
"Tell me yours!" he ordered with his unspeakably projectile voice.
All the scales of her body erected at the cutaneous touch of the cold metal against his armour.
One hand was resting on his chest plate, the other tracing the metal triangle from where it flared at the shoulder down to the tip. There it stayed when she bent down to Charim, and as she whispered softly she could feel his hips rise against her hand,
"I am Rulsat, but you may call me Aymaru."
With the speed of a lizard he grabbed her lower hand and groaned,
"So, Aymaru, do you want me to keep this on?"
She shuddered at the way his lips played with her name. The images of her silvery, lean body squirming against the inorganic material, impregnated marks on the delicate surface of her skin, the metal covered in pearls of her sweat crossed her mind.
"I've never been one with a soldier. And a soldier can't live without his armour I was told, but – no. I think my curiosity makes me want to reveal your body."
Slowly Aymaru unclasped the uniform and first took off the chest plate. A perfectly shaped torso and a most inviting scent rewarded her effort. He propped himself up on his elbows so she could easily remove the back impediment.
Then Charim pulled her legs up onto the bed and stroked her inner thighs on the way up only brushing her scaly cleft, but lingering at her pert breasts, the charcoal coloured nipples.
He lifted his face. The glistening eyes struck Aymaru even more than his breath that seemed to ignite her icfin.
"We don't want your feet to get cold, do we," he whispered a little too patronisingly for her taste.
She shot her fingers under his black undershirt and provoked a hoarse groan from Charim's mouth as her fingernails dug into his rough flesh. Soon she had stripped her lover to the waist and didn't delay the indulgence in his chest muscles. She nuzzled and dipped her tongue in his loc scraping at the leathery areas of his skin, exploring the tender scales at his sides while he kissed her hair, cupped her shoulders, traced her spinal ridge with his thumb till he reached the sensitive scale pattern above her raised breech. There he scratched the chacak gently, but getting more insistent as she was freeing him from the confinement of his trousers.
With one heave he kicked off his boots, shed the rest of his uniform and grabbed Aymaru's cheeks to force her down onto him. Her quivering legs slipped to his sides and she impaled herself on her lover's shekbar. As she felt his blood throbbing through her body, she knew they were one and grinned blatantly onto the man lying at her mercy.
The animalistic groan as she bit down on his ocrash made him thrust fiercely under her. She stayed locked onto it - that was practically the only means to keep herself on top of him.
But Charim didn't allow any further impudence and pinned her full weight against the wall by her hands and hips.
"Kijakh!" she screeched and sucked in a deep breath.
"Cold – isn't it?"
He was breathing hard – Aymaru, too, and she noticed that the rising and sagging of their chest's seemed to be the only movement for a long time. A look of terror flit across Charim's face as he saw the drop of blood – his blood - trickling down from the corner of his lover's mouth. The more surprised Aymaru's sigh sounded as he dashed to lick it off, but she was silenced by a most overwhelming kiss.
The interesting sensation of being enclosed by fire on the one side and ice on the other subsided as the metal heated up to her rising body-temperature. But that didn't ease her breathing. Her powers failed as she tried to wrap her free leg around her lover's waist and his glossy hair simply slipped through her limp fingers. His slow, warm, deep thrusts and the density of male pheromones made her dizzy.
One last earthy moan of his against her ear made the dams break and she let all her tension crash down from the highest peak.
At last he rolled over onto his back and she moaned out loud, "Charim..."
In the oblivion of the aftermath that was as black as her lover's hair she felt a hand cover half of her face stroking her nose with the thumb.
"Karo s'rosdarsh, Aymaru."
It was Charim who had spoken to her, not very affectionately, more to calm her down.
"Karo s'rosdarsh..." * * * "...and we don't know how many civilians – that is men, women and children – live near those barracks. So, how do we destroy them and the ammunition facilities without harming the people? Any options, comrades?"
Suddenly Rulsat was thrust back into reality from – a dream? Yes, last night's extremely vivid dream had got her off guard again.
I should learn to control these emotions> she thought as she noticed her cold, moist hands and the velocity of her heartbeats.
"Rulsat, you had done research on that matter yesterday, co?"
Legate Damar – he looks just like - well not exactly, but – no, that can't be...>
She didn't know how long this dragonlion of silence had been yawning in her face, but the attention was definitely directed at her.
"Well, all I can say is," she gulped, "- that this mission is a prototype for various assaults upon ammunition and other Jem'Hadar facilities in the near future..."
Someone poked her in her back and whispered, "Tell them about that anaesthetic gas." It was Ipsa Tidal who had saved her scales.
"Aaaand, that's why it is important to acknowledge the importance of the data I dug up out of a long forgotten Dominion archive – supposedly a niche of the huge network that hadn't been cleared up in their 'security protocol revolution'."
"And what is it you've found?" the legate urged on.
Rulsat shrugged at his impatience – the scales at the nape of her neck however erect - and asked calmly as she walked towards the nearest computer console, "May I use the view screen, tirgevan?"
He cast his palm in the direction of it.
A flash of broken light, then a fuzzy picture accompanied by many squeaks and ruffles appeared. Rulsat turned to the group of rebels and noticed that Damar was standing close to her studying the barely legible screen.
"This is a dated cloning pattern for Jem'Hadar in the Gamma Quadrant. The Dominion administrators must have discarded this information for it wasn't fit for the modern cloning programmes in the Alpha Quadrant."
The legate didn't say a word, only his eyes were discoursing while some others were snarling "great! fantastic!"
With her one arm wrapped around her waist leisurely ignoring the sarcastic comments she gesticulated with the other as she explained the clue,
"What I found later – as Tidal and I had overridden a few security protocols – was a medical report directed to Vorta who had lost control over their Jem'Hadar unit. And so," she continued loudly and sought the rebel leader's eye, "a description of various so called 'enigmatic anaesthetics' those Vorta could use to sedate or kill their malfunctioning soldiers without their noticing."
"Excellent," Legate Damar stated, "What possibilities do we have?"
"The most reasonable method would be gas pollution," Rulsat finished.
Tidal continued in her high-pitched voice, "These Vorta might have flooded, say, the bridge of a spacecraft with this gas. It would manipulate a Jem'Hadar's DNA strings if they inhaled it and terminated them. But it was specially designed only to harm this particular species – no Vorta – no Founder – and definitely no Cardassian."
Aymaru Rulsat couldn't take her eyes of the man who had once been the absolute ruler of Cardassia and now the rebel leader of the kezdem kardasshi. While her eyes were scrutinising him from top to bottom she wondered if he was interested in liberating other areas apart from Cardassia...
Falchikhve!> He had caught her with a light grey glance of his.
*
"Tidal," Rulsat addressed her roommate quietly as they had just slipped on their bunks, "Thank you."
"Ipsa –" she corrected the politeness, "And – whatever for?"
Rulsat hesitated to offer Ipsa Tidal her first name. She hadn't heard anyone evoke it in a long time.
"You saved my scales."
Tidal dismissed her with a convivial chuckle, "Oh come on, not paying attention isn't a mortal offense."
Rulsat was puzzled.
"Then – why did you help me?"
Tidal humphed, "Rulsat...I don't regard helping the discussion along with some prompting as help. You sure take things too seriously."
"Napra nalcha," the older woman groaned for Rulsat didn't seem to react further.
After a while Aymaru added absently, "Yes, see you tomorrow,"
not knowing or caring if Ipsa had heard her.
She tossed and turned on her bunk annoyed at the humming of the heater. And at herself for letting herself give in to the memory of Charim's violent thrusts, the stains on the heated metal walls, his expanding chest pressing his scales against her palms under heavy breathing...
At one point she could even see his stocky shape appear at the door.
Even angrier she rolled over to the wall and covered her eyes.
Could it be? He had never told her his other name – it was always simply Charim.
She turned back to the light at the door blinking away the film of tears in her eyes.
He was gone.
Rulsat propped herself up, but her body collapsed between her knees and a curtain of hair spread across the bed.
A sudden thought crossed her mind: Why lurk on this bunk when she could be - working?
*
Long slender fingers scraped the sandstone as she wondered through the tunnel to ops. Her feet were cold. She didn't realise that she had forgotten her shoes in the dorm.
The soft music of a computer console reached her ears long before she realised where her nimble fingers had lead her – the Dominion's official data-bank. Quickly she scrambled her signal till it must have seemed like a incoming transmission from one of the colonies far from Cardassia Prime.
"Of course, " she sighed as Damar's holograph – the rebel leader persecuted by the Dominion enslavers – showed up and swallowed hard while her eyes darted across the screen.
"Charim Damar, former Legate Damar, ruler of the Cardassian Union, strayed from the law-abiding path, betrayed the Divine Founders by defecting to the enemy...," she murmured along and ended up shaking her head.
He made Legate, that – afmirsharjin!>
Rulsat was trying hard to wipe out the images flashing behind her eyelids.
"Surprised?" came from behind her.
Rulsat tried hard to swallow the grin that built up from her stomach as she heard the voice matching the holo, to fight the urge to swivel her chair around and throw herself at him. But she simply let her fingers dance over the screen resting on his lips, then on her own.
"Or maybe just shocked."
"I don't quite know," she replied and cleared her throat, "The only thing I know is, no matter how hard you try your voice will never sound soft and gentle."
The rays of his smile permeated her back.
"I only hope I didn't underestimate your means of perception," he said definitely restricting a laugh.
She slid back into her chair.
"You didn't, but I would never have expected such-," and licked her lips, "rhetorical eloquence."
Her head hit his armour with a thud.
Before she could pull back Damar had her face captured between his hands. She groaned as he squeezed her cheek bones not tenderly, open-mouthed when he forced her jaw ajar. Then she became aware that it was her throat these strange sounds evoked from as his fingers slid down from her jaw ridges onto her shoulders. Gods, that hurt as his nails were about to bore their way through the cloth of her dress.
"Why did you come here?" he asked in a straight-forward voice that made her scales ripple.
"To interrogate with subtle intimidation," her larynx forced out, " is simply not your style."
And this, she admitted to herself, made her knees shake more than when she had to pull out a Federation spy's fingernails during one of her own interrogations.
Before she could continue her trembling ramblings she was pushed onto the console and she knocked her head on Damar's holograph. When she gained full consciousness again she noticed that his hands were still clutched to her shoulders. But this time his voice didn't come from somewhere behind. It was closely near her ear.
"You must tell me-" he breathed franticly.
If her head hadn't hurt so much she would have laughed in pity at the desperate man on his knees.
"Well, I thought my abilities could come at use in kezdem..."
"I believe you thought something completely different," Damar interrupted as his spread hands slid gently over her neck-ridges, then opening the curtain of black hair that had been shielding her pallid features from his eyes.
Was he going to hurt her? Aymaru Rulsat didn't care if he was, it would still be a touch of his hands. Her soul was at his mercy, yet her sparkling green eyes glared at him fiercely.
"If you are inferring that I was out for a good fuck, you are mistaken," she spat. "And if our little encounter here wasn't coincidental, it must have been initiated by the gods."
"Do not slander their memory!" he roared and slapped one hand across her mouth catching her hair between his fingers.
No hesitation – she bit down on his thumb like a captured beast.
And like an intimidated animal she curled up in her chair as if to hide between her shoulders.
She couldn't help herself – in all her fury she found the taste intoxicating. But there was no blood, not like the first time she had dug her teeth into his skin. Probably he was dead already – a walking spectre that finds no rest and wanders the world in a hazy half-consciousness.
*
The woman counted the seconds. Although she never let anyone prevent her from
speaking openly she was wondering when to break the silence.
Damar had taken off his armour. But he was a soldier – had always been and would always be till he died. She observed the seldom sight and wondered why she hadn't even been given one at her recruitment for kezdem – because of never having been part of the military obviously. Even in the time after her disappearance from Cardassian society, when she lived on a dirty old orbiting platform called space station surrounded by theft and murder, she had rarely had physical, but always mental control over herself and her environment. The greatest mental challenge was – Rulsat was amazed herself how she had managed this – to prevent her daughter from asking who her father was.
Eventually a raspy, monotonous voice – Damar's, as she realised later – cut through the silken wall,
"I wanted to free them - ourselves."
Her head shot towards him in amazement and she brushed her hair behind her ears that was streaky from spittle, tears and snot. She was quivering, didn't know if her breathing would ever normalise again.
"My plan was extinct at its birth. The Dominion killed everyone of my contacts – the last priests of an order that had survived the unification in exile on some outward colony – and levelled every single temple along with the inhabitants."
She stared at him in utter incomprehension, searched his grimaced features with her eyes – and then with the back of her hands and fingers when she had come close to him. But he refused to meet her eyes.
"You didn't know that there were any – did you?"
"Damar," she said with a gentleness she was unaware of, "what are you talking about?"
The only thing that counted was that somebody listened to him. There obviously was a lot of misguided aggression.
"I became aware once," he began with a hint of the earlier timbre in his ragged voice, "That no man should have to suppress what he believes in."
The grey sparked up to silver in those beautiful eyes.
"My plan was to give our people a reason to keep going under the yoke of occupation. Faith would have united us spiritually and mentally. Oh, they're just fascinating – the Gods I mean."
"But the State..."
"And when I became absolute ruler of the Cardassian Empire," he continued, "I thought I could use my position to take some time off to study mythological texts – the few fragments of ancient Hebitian literature. The Dominion must have traced the signal of my login into that particular database and I hadn't detected that."
"Damar! Do you realise what you're questioning? One of our soundest principles is solely to believe in the State."
Her heart was pounding.
"The State has been crumbling from inside from its birth five hundred years ago. I realised that at this point."
Restlessly he marched around the cave kicking up gravel as he moved.
"To fight an occupying force takes more than an attempted coup by an elite of idealists," he snarled. "A new, a stronger unification of Cardassia needed to arise from inside through belief."
Then he captured Rulsat, this time not physically, but with the spark in his eyes and his voice that trailed off through the endless caves.
"The Gods would have supported us...
At the time of my first assembly it wasn't my contacts from the colony who arrived at our meeting place, but that Vorta moron. It reported the executions like tomorrows weather forecast."
His fingers struck the computer panel as if it was made of glowing iron. Faces over faces flared up in the heat of his rage and he mumbled names as the holos passed by.
Aymaru couldn't stand it any longer. Her slender form slipped away from under his arms that were magnetically drawn to the panel.
"deshkadir Jaslan ... deshkadir Yesac ... deshkadra Khuchelokhu..."
Softly she said, "There's no point in giving water to a skeleton," and touched his shoulder. He straightened up and squared his back. Then he threw her a glance over his shoulder and wanted to turn back, but she took his face in both her hands and kissed him.
Her hands roamed though his hair as she explored the cavity between his lips, stroked his jaw ridges with her long slender fingers till she broke the kiss and looked at him. His eyes shot open as if he had been woken from a dream.
"Let's go," Aymaru whispered with a smile.
At last his strong arms slid around her waist and she felt his fingers encircle the single bones in her spinal ridge as they walked out of the comm centre.
A new sensation of warmth streamed through her veins as she and Damar walked along holding, protecting each other from the dark. The crunching gravel under their feet and the rustling of their clothes' fabric were the only sounds they heard for a long time – till something reached their ears. Sobs, groans, cries came from a cabin they passed. Their pace became swifter.
"Charim?"
"Yes."
"There is a reason why I came here."
Aymaru noticed him wince.
"We all have one. The suffering of our people..."
She looked at him and found a glint of embarrassment in his eyes. Or was it regret for the things he had done to her?
"Of course," she interrupted him. "But – you see, I was living at a space station till roughly two months ago. It was to be vaporised for the Dominion wanted to build a ship yacht orbiting this particular colony in its exact height. I didn't know because I was on-planet at the time."
She took a deep breath.
"They didn't even bother with an evacuation," she went on getting louder with each phrase. "Why should they have? All that hassle for a handful of civilians! My only child was forgotten on this space station."
"Y – you have a child? I mean..."
"Had a child, yes," she chuckled bitterly.
"But it's not..."
"Noooo... don't worry. I conceived Tiria shortly before I met you. That's why I let myself be assigned by osos to a mission that would carry me and my child furthest away from Prime," she rationed. She wondered why he took her at her word.
They turned numerous corners – Rulsat was thinking about ever finding her way back without Damar.
"Do you sometimes wish you had a child, or shall I say an heir?"
She turned away gnawing at her lower lip in regret. What kind of a stupid question was that.
But to her surprise Damar cleared his throat and answered, "I have a son."
Aymaru risked a
cautious look at him. And with their eyes their thoughts met – not for
very long.
When he typed in a code for the fourth time he muttered under his breath, "As if this ensures maximal security for the great leader of the liberation front..."
The heavy duranium door crashed closed. They had reached the Legate's quarters. The pitch blackness was instantly displaced by the blue glow of a light-stick. Rulsat had imagined the quarters to be furnished slightly more generously, but it had a simple bunk-bed – did he ever share it with anyone? – a desk and the only item that distinguished it from the other bed-caves was a large computer console. He didn't even have his own replicator.
In clumsy efficiency he began, "I - find these accommodations appropriate."
Aymaru had to satisfy her urge to fling her arms around his neck and smiled.
"Charu, you're so noble. And your motivations are, too. Me –" she looked down on herself. "I only had to take revenge on the ones responsible for the death of my daughter."
He lifted her chin and looked her in the eye lazily. It made her smile. "And that's no noble motivation?" he purred. "Most of the kezdemzanak fight for their lost ones, many even to keep their minds off thinking about their dead families and friends."
"But you do it for the people..."
"Yes, now," he said loudly. "But my idea came from solely selfish purposes. I had practically lost the power over the Union and I wanted it back. Yet when the first major casualty reports from Cardassian units came through I knew there was much more at stake than a proud young despot's position."
"And what counts is the present, am I right?" she teased him.
"Will you let me kiss your hair?" He ran his hands through the dark masses. "It has grown since I last saw you on the Kelok."
Aymaru's look fell into the distance.
"You were trying to hide the tears after you'd got your promotion to glin – and the reassignment. When I wrapped my arms around your neck in the corridor you ... tried to brush me off by acting proud."
"I knew I'd miss you..."
"But you didn't in the end," she stated simply, "neither did I you. Everyone finds their means to kill pain in situations like that. Some dock at any port..."
"And others sleep with their superior officer." Her hands dropped to her sides.
Slowly her face turned to him again and could practically hear his clenching jaw. Damar seemed completely serious about this. She just wanted to storm out of here and make a load of explosives detonate in some Dominion facility. It didn't occur to her at that moment, but Rulsat – or her ego – could withstand the mental version of pain much less than the physical. She strode to the door and it hissed open.
"But what counts is the present, doesn't it?" Damar echoed. Aymaru couldn't hear, but felt him coming closer, his hand on her shoulder, his hot breath in the back of her neck that made her shiver and her sweat freeze.
And she exhaled her defiance with a long breath.
*
No longer the thrusts of youth's peak threatened to spill over the edge - this time they were driven by the antimatter of sheer desperation. As he emptied himself into her, it wasn't just his mezan, but it seemed that he could shed a part of his life's burdens.
His melancholic face, that seemed more beautiful to her than a smile from the gods, was towering over her. The lip's rosebuds were quivering under the storm of his breath. Aymaru tried to look past the strange smile of relief to find shame and hopelessness. She couldn't cope with this anymore and lay back on the pillow. Avoiding his eye she cupped his moist face in her hands to pull it down onto her bosom. The tingling of her chest loc was the only sign left that he was breathing, that he was alive.
She knew his toils would be infinite, but her stomach cramped when she realised,
"You will never do anything about it – will you."
Constantly, consternated she stroked the nape of his neck with her thumb, ran her fingers through his glossy hair. It slipped through her fingers – and with it the hope of ever being able to lift him out of this vortex, the hope of being one with him once again.
She was stricken with amazement when she head him or rather felt the vibrations against her scales when he said, "I don't need to. That's why I picked this job."
"What are you saying, Charimshu yeji?"
He propped himself up on his elbow. Now she could reach his leathery chest, could watch her fingers dance across his ridges. He was watching them, too. Then she raised her eyelids in expectation of his answer, for something she was already thinking.
"I – knew that I wouldn't have to worry about my life - from the moment I took the step in front of that view-screen to make the resistance speech. Fate takes care of itself, you know," he finished gruffly.
* * *
"She was very close to him," a distant voice whispered. Rulsat turned her head wearily. There stood Ipsa Tidal in the glow of the morning light with another man who had just come out of the Residence. His face was completely blank and a pair of big blue eyes were locked onto the form she was kneeling at. Aymaru started to snort like sulosha in fury and threw her arms across the body to shield it from the world. It was much too hot for dawn. Then she saw flames licking at every wall around her.
She tried to lift the corpse shouting, "He'll catch fire! He'll burn!"
"Aymaru!" Tidal cried in that squeaky voice and scrambled to her friend's side.
Four of strong hands struggled to drag the woman away from the body, but she refused to let him go. Then she heard that man's voice – it was somewhat nasal, yet incredibly clear and gentle.
"His life was only like waves in the sea – they go up and down. One day the waves spill over and crash down onto him with all fate's might. But after that the water is still and peaceful." He put a hand on Aymaru's trembling shoulder. "Redemption is what he sought for his people and he found it for himself through snarling in the face of death."
And she let go.
The two people helped her up. She saw in a blur that Tidal was squeezing her hand, but didn't feel anything. The man was already summoning a couple of Cardassians – supposedly kezdemzanak – to take care of the body. Evilly she glared at all the Terrans who were lurking around them.
"They won't touch him," Tidal assured her and Aymaru watched her friend's hand rest on her face. "Garak will take care of that."
Her weary head turned towards the burial unit.
"...'ll be best if we bring him inside the building."
He glanced at her while he was talking. She wanted to thank him for not smiling at her, but he had already devoted his attention to the burial.
Aymaru just turned round and shuffled through the rubble, was nudged by a couple of brusque Federation soldiers. As she tripped over whatever lay at her feet and fought her way through the fires, the screams of the wounded mixed with barked Starfleet orders. She slapped her hands over her ears and marched straight onto a incredibly spacious square. Hectically she threw her head around and recognised it as the Empirical Plaza. Most of the graceful towers and spikes had collapsed. Only the uneven skyline of ashen ruins remained. Slowly she lowered her clawed hands and stared into the break of dawn. For the first time one could see the sunrise from the centre of Cardassia – because the horizon was cleared.
...karo s'rosdarsh,
Aymaru Rulsat...
*
THE END