Pro Bono Publico
by Lilybet
It was a foul night in Lakat, the capital of Cardassia Prime. The expected rainstorm had held back until the sun was set, and now the deluge had come. Almor Karn ran from doorway to doorway, the hood of his waterproof pulled firmly over his head. Finally he raced across the road and up the short flight of stairs to Pa'Dar's house. The road was turning into a river, like it always did when the monsoon came. Almor shook back his hood and pressed the door chime.
"Almor Karn! Come in, come in. It's a bad night to be out. Let me take your coat." Jilana, Pa'Dar's mother took the wet garment and hung it up in the porch, "Is Kotan expecting you?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Then go right on through. What a night!"
In the main room Kotan Pa'Dar was reading a book, his way of relaxing. Lately he had needed to relax a lot more. A week ago he had visited Terek Nor, or Deep Space Nine as it was now known, and been reunited with his lost son. Rugal had been living on Bajor for the last eight years, and was not adapting easily to the change of planet.
Almor entered, and Kotan got up to greet his friend and colleague. "Kanar?" he offered, pulling the twisted bottle from the cabinet. He noted as he did that there was less in the bottle than a week ago.
"A little," replied Almor, "Where's the boy?"
"In his room," Kotan said, a little sadly.
"How are thing's going? Is he happy to be back on Cardassia?"
"To be honest," Kotan answered, settling back into his chair, "things are not going well. He didn't want to come in the first place. I thought he would refuse completely, and insist on going back to Bajor. Then, it was the strangest thing, but after the Commander of Deep Space Nine, Sisko, spoke with him he seemed to accept the ruling. Though it has not been easy - we had numerous arguments those first days, both on the transport and here. Then he took to prayer."
"Prayer?"
"He follows the Bajoran Prophets," explained Kotan, to the confused inquiry, "He's set up a shrine in his room, and now all he does is pray. I've tried to get him interested in his past here: told him stories, showed him pictures, but though he listens well enough he doesn't say a word. Then he just vanishes back into his room. I tell you, Almor, it's as if I still don't have a son."
"Would you like my advice?" Almor Karn offered, "Send him to school. Where he is unwilling to listen to an adult, he may listen to someone his own age. I'll have my son, Salim, take him under his wing."
"I wanted to let him get settled first," Kotan protested mildly.
"I think he's as settled as he's going to get. Send him to school, Kotan. Give him a normal life, and get back to yours. We have more evidence coming in tomorrow on the Ka'mar case, and could do with your voice to keep the peace."
"Hmm, yes, alright. I'll call the local school tomorrow." Kotan nodded, and turned his attention to his work, "I thought we had all the evidence on Ka'mar."
The next day Pa'Dar welcomed the teacher into his home, and called Rugal out to take the standard tests. These would place him within the school system. After it was all done, and Rugal had vanished back in to his room, Pa'Dar sat down with the teacher and asked the question that had been worrying him since the idea of sending his Bajoran-taught son to a Cardassian school had arisen.
"How did he do?"
"About average for a boy his age," the teacher assured, "His linguistic skills are a little low, probably because he hasn't had a great deal of practise reading Cardassian. But his memory is excellent - well above average. Is rote learning used on Bajor?"
"I don't know about in schools, but the Prophecies are certainly learnt by heart." Kotan sighed, he had heard enough of the Prophets teachings in the last week to last him a lifetime.
"Well, that explains it. If he's been memorising these Prophecies since he was young it will have improved his memory beyond even the usual Cardassian capacity. I think he would be best placed with other boys his age, and I'll give him a little extra tutoring in linguistics."
Rugal sat on the small terrace next to the back doors of the school and tried to meditate. The dense clouds moved slowly in the humid air, keeping the temperature comfortably in the low forties. As Rugal composed himself, thoughts ran through his mind. He tried to disperse them and meditate properly, but what Chief O'Brien had said during the trial on DS9 wouldn't go away. "Not all Cardassians are bad. I've met some nice ones, like you."
"What are you doing?" asked a voice.
Rugal opened his eyes reluctantly and replied acidly, "I'm trying to mediate." He shut his eyes again in the hope of discouraging the questioner.
"Why?"
"It helps me focus." Rugal kept his eyes shut and his tone sour.
"Huh. Have you tried the saunas in the waterpark? They're great for focusing the mind," the voice went on in a happy tone, clearly not taking any notice.
This wouldn't have happened on Bajor.
"You should visit the waterpark anyway. It's great. My father took me there for my last birthday, and I've been saving up to go again. I can't wait. You're Rugal aren't you? My father, Almor Karn, said I should look out for you. I'm Salim. Father works on the investigative board with your father-"
"Kotan Pa'Dar is not my father!" Rugal said angrily, shooting up from his cross-legged position to glower at the interruptive boy.
Salim blinked and said, "I wouldn't say that too loud if I were you."
"Why not?" Rugal asked belligerently.
"No family, no status." Salim shrugged, "It's the way it's always been. Pa'Dar is your family and that gives you good status. Better than some of them." He waved his hand at the rest of the children talking, playing and reading on the lower terrace. "Oh, and I'd watch out for the Gul's son if you insist on wearing that earring."
"This earring is a symbol of my faith. I will never take it off," Rugal said stubbornly, his hand touching the jewellery with reverence. "Why is status so important to you Cardassians, anyway?"
"You Cardassians? Bajor really did a number on you didn't they?" Salim waved his hand as he saw the emotion rising in Rugal again, "Doesn't matter. You want to know about the importance of status."
Salim sat on the edge of the wall and looked out over the school yard to the distant glimpse of the imperial plaza. "Status is linked with your vessala. The better your status to begin with, the better chance you have of building up a good vessala. You have no idea what that is do you? I suppose the best way of describing it is a...network of contacts, but it's more than that. Your vessala are your friends, your colleagues, your...group. If you need something then you can count on your vessala, and equally they can rely on you. The more influential people you have in your vessala, the more likely you are to gain power and get things done quickly."
"It seems a very strange way to run a society," muttered Rugal.
"Look down there. You see the boy in blue? His father runs a Kanar distillery, and I know for a fact that he gets given sucra - the high sugar leftovers - as a treat. I also know that he's awful at Geography. So I'm going to offer to give him extra tutoring in geography. And, without me saying anything, he will slip me some sucra. This will also pay off in the long run since he'll probably take over the distillery once his father is no longer able to run it. Then, having cultivated him as a member of my vessala, I'll be able to get cheaper Kanar." Salim tried to hide his smug expression, but a little feeling leaked through his mask. It was a good plan, and he couldn't wait to get started.
"One good turn deserves another," quoted Rugal.
"Pardon?"
"It's a saying first put forward by the fifth Kai. It teaches us that society is bettered by cooperation and kindness," Rugal explained, rubbing his temple. His eyes were still adjusting to the lower light levels on Cardassia, and although he had been having fewer headaches since he arrived on the planet, they still flared up occasionally.
"Cooperation and kindness? I guess that sentiment must have been lost during the occupation."
"You try being kind to a people who are killing you in the millions!"
"Okay! Okay!" Salim held up his hands, "I can see that the Occupation is a topic to avoid."
A bell rang once above their heads, and the other pupils began to make their way towards the steps and back into class.
"One last thing, Rugal. Get Pa'Dar to take you to a tailor. Grey looks terrible on you!"
Stardate 47944.2
I got a letter from my father this morning. It was a little strange seeing a Bajoran face, though I still miss him loads. He told me how things were going; he's got a new job and mother is working as a cleaner in the local temple. He also asked me how I was. It's the first time I didn't know what to say.
When all the other letters have come I've been able to say how difficult it is here, how much there is to learn, how different the food is. But I was thinking about what to say in reply this time, and I realised that I've...adapted. I was coming back from school yesterday and, normally I notice that the streets are so tidy and how it's far too humid to run, but I didn't. I didn't notice any of it. I think I actually enjoyed the heat for a moment.
I hate to admit it, but the food is actually nicer. It's like there was a whole world of spices out there that I didn't know about. And now that I've got the basics of school down, I'm doing alright there too.
But I can't tell Father that. I DO still miss Bajor, and my parents. I always pray to the Prophets every day, and I never take off my earring. I even got into a fight with the Gul's son about it. I won. Pa'Dar wasn't impressed with my black eye and bruised ribs, but I won so it doesn't count.
He does care about me.
Rugal looked up from his writing, taking in the multi-hued clouds. The near permanent cloud cover on Cardassia had got to him at first, but the heat which the ash-born clouds kept in was welcomed. He had found himself being able to think clearer, and it was much more comfortable. In fact, once he had been prised out of his room, he had found a nice niche round the side of the house in the herb garden. There was a bench up against the wall here, and he could tuck himself away and no one would disturb him. Except of course...
The quick footsteps on the flags behind him alerted Rugal to his friend's arrival. Salim was the only one who disturbed him, never seeming to care whether he was meditating or working on school work. It still annoyed Rugal sometimes, but the interruptions appeared to be as much a part of their relationship as anything else.
"Salim," greeted Rugal, saving his file and putting down the Padd.
"Here." Salim held out a thin black rectangle, "I told you I'd get it."
Cautiously Rugal took the item, "What is it?"
"It's sucra! Go on, try it." Salim palmed another piece and broke off a corner. Sticking it in his mouth, he hummed in delight, his eyes opening extra wide.
Rugal broke off a much smaller corner, finding that the sweet was brittle. Yet when he put it in his mouth it melted into intangibility setting off a taste sensation. It was wonderful. Greedily, he broke off some more. Then he stopped. He had remembered what Salim had told him on the first day about favours.
"What's the catch?" he asked.
"Catch?" Salim stared at Rugal, a slight realisation creeping round the edges of his eyes, "There is no catch."
"You're actually giving this to me and not expecting anything in return?" Rugal said doubtfully.
"Maybe your Bajoran ideals are rubbing off on me."
Rugal popped the piece of sucra in his mouth and smiled down at the flags. He had been mentioning the teachings of the Prophets fairly regularly over the past weeks, and he was glad that Salim was listening. Some sort of balance had to be found between the two cultures: Bajoran and Cardassian, otherwise things would only ever remain as they were.
"Ooo, I almost forgot. Come on!" Salim beckoned Rugal as he turned and headed back down the short flight of steps, "Come on! They've caught a Maquis collaborator: Federation. The trial is all over the screens. There'll still be room in the plaza. Come on!"
"I knew there'd be something," muttered Rugal with a sigh, but he got up nonetheless and chased off after Salim.
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