Introduction:
"Lower Decks" has always been one of my favourite TNG episodes, despite the unbelievability of mission and the stupidity of killing off the character of Sito Jaxa. But, since the producers thankfully neglected to produce a body, this is the continuing story of Sito's fate. I always liked the idea of her stumbling across the Maquis. Six years later, she is tactical officer on a starship patrolling occupied Cardassian space after the Dominion War. I will flesh out the intervening years a little in subsequent stories.
Aspholith Colony, Cardassian Border
2370
The gouges on her face and arms had stopped bleeding, courtesy of the flaming cauterization of the Aspholid sun. The bruises would continue to pain her until the end, of course. Her Starfleet training allowed her to calculate the time of her death, three point six days ahead- complications of dehydration. She tried to adjust her posture against the manacles, but they were bolted too firmly to the wall. Her arms felt like jelly.
And then she noticed the children. They were young, maybe thirteen Cardassian years. They were playing a game of catch, barely noticing the prisoners on the Wall of Penalty. The sun was reaching zenith, and even through closed eyes was hard to bear. As she looked down, she began to think about the children. Two of the eldest boys seemed to dominate the game, flaunting the agility of their arms and the length of their legs. There was another boy, older than the others, who was not so skilled. He was always on the edge of the game, as the younger ones left him behind for their role models. Why wasn't he in school? A boy as old as he should have been selected for one of the academies.
A girl no more than five Cardassian years old started arguing with one of the older boys. What the exact problem was, Sito could not hear, but it seemed to involve the ball, of which the girl had possession. The boy lost patience and wrested the ball from the girl's arms, throwing her to the ground. The oldest boy then came to life. It seemed that his name was Keleb. He berated the culprit, even as he gathered the very shaken girl in his arms and carried her away. Play resumed in earnest, as though to wipe away the memory of what happened.
So, maybe there is hope for these children- if only they would see it, the woman thought. So like Juret.
Juret Dal. What had become of him? Had he successfully returned to his cover? She hoped he would forget the Bajoran who had helped him- he had risked too much already in dropping her on a world in the Demilitarized Zone. He had needed her to play the prisoner so that he would seem to be a bounty hunter as he crossed from the Federation side of the Zone. It had been one of the few common reasons for crossing the border.
If only they had realized how common. Juret had been the second bounty hunter to be stopped by the cruiser Psiter that day. Two Bajoran "terrorists", not one as Captain Picard had planned, had needed a way to escape. One was a Starfleet security officer. The other was a teenager. Between them had been one escape pod scarcely large enough for one person. She had ejected the forlorn girl back toward Federation space- and the Enterprise. She had watched that pod, for all her precautions, being incinerated. Growing up on occupied Bajor, she had pitied the Cardassians. She had known that they acted out of blindness, not seeing that it was themselves they tortured. In her pain, she had found peace and joy, to the point where it had not seemed to be she that they had struck, but themselves.
For once, her consolation had failed her. She knew that the girl was not forgotten, that her suffering was not in vain, something the woman knew from being so near to death so often. But she hated the Cardassians for removing that person from the universe, that hopeless, scared, tortured, beautiful person. Before they had dragged her down at the Aspholith Colonial Spaceport, she had killed seven Cardassians. She had barely felt the pain of her interrogation for the force of her hatred. It had frightened her that she could feel such a rage that she could take joy in killing, such a hatred of life that she would welcome death.
And now she was on the Wall of Penalty, inhaling dust and feeling the aches that would be the last sensation she would know- and looking at the poor children, who would never know how the nameless carcass on the wall wept for them inside. A nameless carcass- was that all that life came to?
Dear Prophets, she prayed, not knowing why, let these children understand how blind their parents are. Let them remember mercy. Let me die. You have blessed me too much in my fight for survival. She thought of how she had always been able to endure the worst of the labor camp. How she had been rescued from it. How, after she and her flight team had disgraced themselves at Starfleet Academy, Captain Picard had given her a chance to redeem herself. How Lieutenant Worf, the fierce Klingon and model security officer, had made her his protégé. She gave her life into the hands of those who knew better than she what it meant, and prayed for the children.
It was then that the ball struck her on the head.
Ambassador-class Explorer USS Cayuga NCC-45957
Occupied Cardassian Union Space,
Federation Sector,
2376
"Cmdr. Sito, target the first ship's warp core. Fire when ready."
Sito looked up from the Tactical console that, before the Dominion War, she would not have been manning. "Firing."
Six phaser beams as thick as suspension-bridge cables parted the battlecruiser's shields for an instant as quantum torpedoes soared through to complete the work. The Cayuga's superb shields barely noticed the warp core fallout.
"Remaining ship," purred Captain S'har in her most dangerous tone. "Leave now, and I may consider killing you quickly the next time that we meet." Indeed, the Caitian woman looked like she just might enjoy toying with her prey.
The remaining Klingon-designed battlecruiser wheeled through the explosion of its counterpart. The science officer had reported Cardassian lifesigns aboard the enemy vessels. Given their antiquity, they were undoubtedly bought or stolen from surplus depots. Then again, given their antiquity, they should not be equipped with weapons that seemed to ignore Starfleet's newest shields. "Captain," Sito said, "They're charging that weapon again."
"All hands," S'har almost whispered, "brace for impact."
The ship seemed to whirl like a humanoid with inner-ear trouble. Impact, Sito thought, is not the word.
The forward end of the bridge seemed to contract, as though it were a rubber ball being squeezed. Then it blew up. Where the viewscreen had been was the beater bar of a giant vacuum cleaner, whallopping the crew one by one as they were blown out into space.
Sito's reflexive entwinement in her tactical console was rewarded by the sight of her Captain being blown into the maw of stars that were suddenly less kindly.
The cold burned her even as the environmental system tried to repressurize the bridge. Her breath was sucked from her lungs, and leaving an icy film on the console. Her hands could no longer feel anything as they slipped. Sito realized that she had been wrong about herself. Her survival had not really been so important. After all the times that she had fought to live, her last thought was of the children.
Aspholith Colony, Cardassian Border
2370
They looked in her direction, but not at her. Their eyes were fixed on the ball at her feet, steadfastly ignoring her presence. "What do we do now?" asked one of the little ones.
"Let's go," said one of the pack leaders. "Game's over."
"What about my ball?" the other demanded.
"I'm not playing with any ball that's touched a Bajoran," the first returned. "You should get Keleb to pay for it," he said more loudly. "He was the one who threw it.
Only then did the Sito realize that the oldest boy was back from his errand of mercy. Apparently, he had had enough. "Thus speaks a true man," he said, quietly enough that the woman had trouble hearing him, and began to walk away.
"Of your kindness," drawled the first pack leader, "could you repeat that? You mutter so much, I didn't quite hear you."
Keleb turned, slowly, looking the shackled woman in the eyes before speaking. There was no sign of reticence in him now. "What I said was, if you were half the man you thought you were when you knocked poor Kiska on her back, you would get the ball yourself without a second thought." He then forestalled the obvious rejoinder by walking straight towards the Wall. "After all, what is so frightening about a Bajoran cuffed to the Wall? What disease does she carry except your fear of her?" he continued. Nevertheless, he tried to avoid her eyes. Yet somehow he was drawn to them as a moth to flame. As he drew closer to the wall, the other children inched away from him.
It seemed that neither he nor the Sito would look away. As he approached the ball, Keleb whispered, "What unless because of all the suffering we give them, they have some terrible power over us." He passed the ball by and came right up to her. Keleb stood there for a moment, looking like a cat investigating the family's new baby. Suddenly his eyes dropped. "Why?" he whispered. Slowly, as though all the power of his will were required to do it, Keleb lifted the canteen from his belt, uncorked it, and tipped it into the woman's mouth. When she had drunk the whole bottle, he corked it again and withdrew some wafers from his pocket. He helped her to eat them, down to the last crumbs, as though it were the most important thing he would ever do.
"Thank you," said the woman.
"What else can I do?" Keleb asked.
"Nothing. You've done more, far more than enough."
"How can you say that? You will die."
"How can you bear with your friends?" the woman returned.
Keleb thought about this for a moment. "But," he said, "it is your life. Did you wish to die like this?"
The woman simply spoke, not thinking of what she would say. As usual when a humanoid stops thinking, the right things came out. "How can you forgive the other children? I know- I know that you do. You must, or you wouldn't be able to stand up to them like you just did."
"I bear with them because I must learn to reconcile my convictions to their ignorance. I bear their insults because it helps me to grow. But I suppose I do forgive them. Their kind hearts would come out if their upbringing had been better." He checked himself angrily. "But who am I to speak of that? You will die because of their parents' poor upbringing."
"No, it's all right," said the woman. "I've already forgiven them."
"Then that is it! The terrible power you hold over us. I would see the Archon's face if he were to hear a prisoner forgive him! We Cardassians, we are used to being hated, to hating, but this forgiveness- what poison it is to us. Perhaps that is why we lost Bajor. That, or you endured so much that you became invincible.
"Please tell me your name. I am Keleb Nur."
The woman knew then that that name would one day be hailed throughout Cardassia. "I am Sito Jaxa."
Keleb nodded matter-of factly. "Then, Sito Jaxa, I shall be back to set you free." And he plucked up the ball and ran off.
"No! They'll kill you!" she shouted after him. It was too late.
Ambassador-class Explorer USS Cayuga NCC-45957
Occupied Cardassian Union Space,
Federation Sector,
2376
"Jaxa!" The sound of her given name rang in her ears. But there was no sound in vacuum. "Hold on," said the voice.
Opening her eyes, Sito saw Anamchar, the Lacharu engineer, gripping her hand. He himself was standing with both feet firmly on the deck.
Oh no! We'll both be blown out!
But for an impossibly long moment, Anamchar stood there, unsupported, unphased by the vacuum. A tingling warmth restored feeling and strength to her hand. She began to climb the Lacharu's arm like a rope, until Anamchar grabbed her in a bear hug. He seemed to be giving off a strange warmth, one that even vacuum could not destroy.
At that moment, the ship finally established an emergency bulkhead as gravity returned to a nice, vertical frame of reference. Sito looked down at her console. The enemy ship was closing, not backing off, which could only mean- "They're going to board us."
Anamchar nodded matter-of-factly. "Orders, Captain?"
Captain? Sito suddenly realized that no one else remained on the bridge. Why did she still live? What had the Lacharu done? Could he not have saved the Captain? Her weapons console was unresponsive. She knew S'har would have found a way out. Sito could only hand over an Ambassador-class explorer to this unknown force. "Computer, do you recognize my command authorization?"
"Affirmative."
"Lock out the main computer and restrain all systems to reduced power mode, authorization Sito Echo 971. Anamchar, can you dump the warp core and then make it look like an automatic ejection? Good."
Sito had barely activated the intruder frustration routines when six Cardassians materialized. She made a show of cowering back toward the engineering console.
"Is one of you in charge here?" one of them demanded.
Sito swallowed demonstratively. "Um, not really."
Aspholith Colony, Cardassian Border
2370
She was swimming. Her muscles relaxed into the familiar rhythms of the strokes. It had been a long, hot day. The sting of water on her skin enticed her as she skimmed along the bottom of the pool. She came up for air only after a few minutes. As she inhaled, she caught sight of Nick, Wesley, Josh which wasn't right, because Josh- Josh was dead. He shook his head, smilingly clapped her on the back as he used to do. No, Jaxa, I'm right here.
Her arms dropped from the restraints as clammy hands guided her down to the flagstones. "Wh-who?" she whispered.
"Hush. It is Keleb Nur. I managed to obtain a phaser from the security office. Your bonds are cut, you are free."
"Good," Jaxa said, louder than she had intended. Regaining control of her voice somewhat, she said again, "Good thing you didn't vapourise me. Now put it back and go home. It's as good as death for you if anyone finds out, or sees us."
"No one will see us. Look around- there's a power outage. There's a clear path to the spaceport from here."
Jaxa knew without trying that she could not stand, but made the attempt anyway. Keleb helped her up, but dizziness overcame her. "S-sorry," she panted. "No point- too long on the wall. Arms -on fire. Dizzy. Can't-"
"It will pass. Here, some more water." He started rubbing her arms to restore circulation. Jaxa nearly cried out from the additional pain. Suddenly, he froze. "Patrol."
"Run!" she pleaded.
He looked down at her for a moment, no doubt to counteract the temptation to do just that. Then, economically, he folded her over his shoulder and they vanished into the alleys. Keleb kept walking for several minutes, until they came to what looked to Jaxa like a park ravine.
"There," he said. "I doubt the patrol missed you. The old man in charge of the power station usually doesn't bother about outages at night, so we have time."
"I told you not to come for me."
"Do all Bajorans complain so much when you try to save their lives?"
"No-"
"Only you?"
"Only when the one saving them sacrifices himself in the process. You didn't have to do this, you know. You already gave my death meaning. What if your parents find out?"
"Then they will respect my decisions, or all they have taught me will be meaningless. There is a discarded ship in the boneyard by the spaceport. I believe it is still spaceworthy."
K'vort class Privateer
Occupied Cardassian Union Space,
Federation Sector,
2376
The cell was not unpleasant. The majority of the thirty-seven Starfleet officers stacked into it did not know that, of course. Sito did. As she saw to her crewmates, she noted gratefully the plateful of fish scraps left by the door and the flow of warm air coming from grates in the ceiling. The few injuries they had consisted of one concussion, a crushed paw, a fractured jaw, and a severed tentacle. They used a pile of worn blankets left in a corner to make the injured comfortable.
One thing disturbed her. Where was Anamchar? She did not know what to make of his strange abilities, but she wished he could have been here. She could have used his insights about how to help her -her!- captured crew.
The same Cardassian who had appeared on the bridge entered during the night, flanked by two guards, by his rank markings, a Glinn. "I trust you are comfortable. Our accommodations may not be as luxurious as you are used to, but I am sure they will grow on you. Now, to business. None of the other prisoners seem able to tell me who your commanding officer is. Surely your chain of command is not so poorly organized as all that, so tell me; when the parents are out of the house, who does the babysitting? No one? Ah, well, I am afraid we shall have to resort to less pleasant methods. Surely I won't actually need to kill anyone before you see sense?"
As Sito had moved among them, she saw to her amazement the faith in their eyes. Officers older than she was were calling her "ma'am." Oddly, she recognized the same gestures of faith as she had given to the Captain or, years ago, Lieutenant Worf. She had always been repayed. Was she the senior officer? Did it matter? If someone was going to be interrogated...
"I am the senior surviving officer," she said.
He looked her over, unbelieving. Then he met her eyes. Looking down quickly, he said, "Bring her."
It was not really such a bad place to be interrogated, once you got used to the smell of unwashed Klingon that still hung about what had presumably been the Captain's Quarters.
"Name." This Glinn was too blunt for an interrogator, Sito saw. She debated whether she could confound him into giving away his intentions. She was fairly sure she could do it- the Maquis had been an excellent extension course to Starfleet security training. But what if he cut the interrogation short? She decided that, as long as she was here, the Glinn was dependent on her for cooperation, and to that extent, she could influence the fate of the Forge's crew.
"Name!" he barked again.
"Jaxa, Sito, Lt. Commander, Service Number 9940-73120."
"Good. Commander, I will come to the point. You will unlock your ship's computer, and I will allow you and your crewmates to live. In time, when your reappearance will not be able to harm us, you will be allowed to return home. If not, you will all prove to be excess baggage."
"Excellent," said a third voice from the doorway, rank with disdain. "You certainly have her in the crushing grip of reason. No doubt she will now lay down her obligations to Starfleet and serve your every whim, in exchange for her life."
"You think otherwise, Nur?" Sito forced her whole body to remain still at the sound of that name. The one he called Nur wore the sigil of the old Obsidian Order on a necklace. The stakes were now much higher, and she could not afford to reveal anything. "Make no mistake, I will eject the whole conniving lot of them out the airlock at the slightest intransigence."
"You would rob yourself of the key to the Cayuga's computers? Ghoran, I thought you were smarter than that."
Glinn Ghoran stalked up to the intruder and hissed, "How dare you interfere with my interrogation. You have just robbed us of the Computer Core, not I."
"An interrogation? Glinn, use your strengths to the benefit of our cause, not your weaknesses. Here I thought you were threatening her, not interrogating her."
"I was under the impression that we were attempting to gain access to the computer. She is a young officer. She would have given in."
"And ejecting the Starfleet personnel one by one would break her resolve if threats did not? If she holds the key to the computer, she will see two options in that circumstance: engineer an escape, or die in the attempt, thereby robbing you of the Command Codes forever, and incidentally the motivation to kill her crew. Ghoran, you know how to fight Starfleet in space. Leave the wresting of secrets from such as she to those trained in the art."
"Fine," spat Ghoran as he left, fuming.
K'vort class Privateer
Occupied Cardassian Union Space,
Federation Sector,
2376
"I should thank you for your silence. By mentioning our acquaintance, you could have seriously endangered my standing here. Well, Jaxa? Have you nothing to say to me?" He shook his head regretfully. "Well, they say the memory of gratitude is the swiftest fading of all. Or perhaps I am too harsh. I have grown, after all. Maybe Bajoran eyes cannot see the boy for the man."
Sito spoke after several moments, sadly. "If the one child I might recognize of all your kind were here, I would recognize him. I cannot see him in my interrogator."
"Interrogator? No, Jaxa, surely you see that was for Glinn Ghoran's benefit? I could never interrogate you. How could I force you to betray what you hold dear? I can only plead. You see, sometimes in a Cardassian's life, someone imparts to him something so valuable that it sets the tone for the remainder of his existence. Such a person is klreasra, to be honoured for the rest of that life. I spoke of gratitude. That was foolish. It is I who owe everything to you."
Sito looked sadly into the fire behind Keleb's eyes. Had her quiet, inadequate words, whispered in his ear in the night, been responsible for turning him into this manipulator? "If I did or said anything to turn you to this path, I can only hope that the boy you were will forgive me."
His face as still as the deck beneath his feet, Keleb carefully sat down on the bench opposite hers. After a moment, he looked up. "I never meant it to be you. I might have completed my purpose in the hope that, in my place, you would do as I have done."
"I don't revive wars that have killed off more than half of my people. I don't attack unprovoked, or kill unless I can honestly say that, if I were the one dying, I would accept my death."
Keleb turned away. "If I could have saved your captain and shipmates, I would have. But Gul Evek and Glinn Ghoran could not be persuaded to take the subtle approach. And I am not out to start a war. I am sick of war, we all are.
"You're wondering what went wrong? How joining the Obsidian Order and attacking a Federation starship could possibly be in accord with your philosophy? Ah, let me see"
He swung round to sit on the bench beside her, perhaps so as to concentrate comfortably on the bulkhead as he talked. "It begins with a boy who lived on a farming colony. His parents taught him spirituality, generosity, hospitality and open-mindedness, holdovers all from the ancient times when Cardassia was a home of sages. They were also part of a small minority, which was considered antiquated and anathema to modern Cardassia. They were exiled to Aspholith III, to spend the rest of their days growing azuth roots. The boy existed as an outsider among his peers at first. He struggled to make sense of his heritage, of the meaning of his existence among people motivated by pleasure and ambition and greed. He used their scorn, and the solitude it gave him, to improve his own character, to smooth out the rough edges. And then he met another who thought as he did, in the most amazing circumstance there could have been. There was a great courage born in his heart that day. He freed his prisoner. And he learned from her a little about what he might be able to do for his own people. He started to make people his study. He learned how to help them, how to open their hearts and make peace among them. He gained a good reputation.
"A year later, his parents were killed in a raid by Maquis terrorists. The boy learned later that the Obsidian Order had smuggled atmospheric toxins onto Aspholith. The Maquis did not succeed in destroying the toxins. The colonists used them to destroy the population of a Maquis moon. The boy, no longer a boy but a man, felt in his heart that this act of retribution was right. When an agent of the Obsidian Order took an interest in his abilities, he was receptive.
"He might have been nothing but a bitter peasant for the rest of his life. The Obsidian Order did give him one thing; it showed him how much he was still needed. The Order gave him his fill of life as just another angry, manipulative lifeform. He finished his training and went deep under cover. He remained there for several years. He had made a life for himself, so that after the destruction of the Obsidian Order he was content to stay where he was.
"And then Gul Dukat brought in the Dominion. Everyone was so happy. Cardassia was to be an empire again. I will spare you the details of that time. What was important is that the lust for glory lost my people their last chance to be at peace with themselves. When the Dominion started to take over, I was not surprised. The Cardassian Resistance movement was inevitable as well. From that first broadcast by Legate Damar, I knew exactly how the war would end.
"Once the war did end, the Federation would move in. The Federation would apsorb us, "assist" in our reconstruction and in the choosing of a government to their liking. Out of the ashes would come a new Cardassia, with an infrastructure on the Federation model, a culture dependant on the Federation's cultureless masses. That is not the way to peace. My people are too proud to be lulled into the sheepfold. There is only conflict and suffering, that way. We must find our own path, Jaxa, our own peace as a people. That is why I began to set up a network of contacts among those who thought as I. After the peace treaty, it seemed for awhile that our preparations were unnecessary. But then it started, just as I had said. Anything that is not the Federation political system, the Federation business model, the Federation culture, is upheld. Anything else, everything that we are innately is being suppressed."
"So you decided to capture a starship."
"Yes, Jaxa we did. Not our first choice, by any means. But the fact is, we need your technology. Not just the military technology, though that will alone allow the Union, reduced as it is, to survive. We need to rebuild on our own, rebuild the cities the Founders destroyed, replant our crops, give the people back their sense of worth and stability. Once the Federation leaves, the Tzenkethi and the Breen will be on our doorstep in seconds. Our people are used to being led by a strong hand, they have known nothing else for generations. Without stability, a Cardassian democracy has no future. Without democracy, Cardassia has no future. We were once an enlightened people, we must rediscover that side of ourselves, or the worlds we've conquered and oppressed will have no reason not to wipe us from the galaxy. I will not say that we don't deserve it. But in spite of all they have been, I love my people."
"I know. But consider what you're doing. If it was just you, that would be one thing. Who knows what the remaining Guls will do with the information you take? Who knows what path Cardassia will choose? I'm sorry."
Cardassian Border
2370
Jaxa had been right on two counts: the ship had not been missed, and it was most definitely not worth the effort of stealing. The creaks and groans escaping the atmosphere of Aspholith were exceeded in volume only by the protesting drone of the impulse engine as Jaxa broke orbit. The recalcitrant little ship barely sustained warp 2, at which speed the nearest Federation colony in the DMZ was nearly a week away. Jaxa was beginning to see her life as a stretch of boredom punctuated only by that which was worse- excitement. Fortunately, none of the latter seemed forthcoming. With few entertainment possibilities, other than the seamy novels in the databanks (which would no doubt have been considered banned literature on Cardassia Prime), Jaxa found herself sinking into deeper and deeper meditation. It was pleasant, really, to put one's mind in order after a month of life-altering experiences. As her body healed, she began slowly to exercise, reviewing the mok'bara forms. At times, she would freeze in the middle of a movement, recalling a Cardassian she had killed with it. After this, she might have to stop for several hours.
Though one of Starfleet's top pilots, she dared not engage in any aerobatics in the rickety shack-with-engines she presently occupied. She smiled inwardly at the thought of performing the kind of manouvres she might have in her old Academy trainer. I might end up with my molecules spread half way to Bajor. Besides, I-
A sound like a fire alarm interrupted her thoughts. It was less than an hour to Ra'al, one of the colonies known to be protected by the Maquis. Wondering whether she was about to die in a warp core explosion, she frantically checked through the systems readouts. Finally locating the sound as coming from the sensor board, she saw the problem. A Cardassian warship, Zhidorn class, was only one lightyear distant, closing from astern.
Here goes. She had modified one of the ship's two antimatter bottles with a package of waste trilithium and a simple detonator. If her aim proved true, and if the Cardassians were running without shields, it would knock out their forward deflector array, immobilising them long enough for her to make planetfall- perhaps.
"Vessel Rakash, you are ordered to power down your engines and prepare to be boarded."
She released the bottle. Seemingly her fortune still held, for the old cruiser rocked violently, dropping out of warp. Sito heard the hum of transporters behind her.
"Hold there, Bajoran," snarled a pug-faced glinn, as he pointed his rifle at her head. Turning around slowly, Sito raised her hands in surrender- and batted the overlarge weapon off its target, before using it as a brace to rise from the pilot's seat and vault herself at the Cardassian. Breaking his arm as she twisted it and the rifle away, she siezed his holstered phaser pistol and snapped a shot off under the Glinn's arm at the soldier on her right. She threw the Glinn by his broken arm between herself and the other soldier, just in time for him to intercept a phaser beam. Allowing the Glinn's motion to take him- or rather his corpse- into the pilot's chair, Sito shot over him, taking down the last Cardassian.
Sighing, she checked each soldier. All dead. She then pitched the Glinn out of her chair and increased throttle as much as she dared. She had no illusions that the cruiser would leave her be. For almost fifteen minutes, it didn't move. Then, within a minute of planetfall, it suddenly jumped to warp. Returning to impulse, Jaxa knew she was most likely dead. Diverting warp power to the structural integrity field, she turned to make use of the planet's gravity well as much as possible during the short seconds she had.
She kept up a dance of evasive maneuvours that neither she nor the ship's previous owner had considered possible for almost twenty seconds before the first phaser hit. Remarkably, the readouts showed no damage. It helps when your ship is already scrap metal. Encouraging the ship to tumble with the force of the blast, she finally reached the atmosphere. Knowing it probably wouldn't work, she detatched the cockpit section for an emergency landing.
Suddenly, the sky above her lit up. Jaxa readied herself to enter the Celestial Temple, but then realised the colour of the blasts was wrong for Cardassian phasers. Looking up, she caught a glimpse of one of her saviours. It was hundreds of kilometers away, but she knew it instantly to be a Peregrine-class fighter. A few seconds later, everything went black.
Ra'al Colony, Demilitarized Zone
2370
"She's coming around. Be gentle with her- she's been through a lot of trauma, Calvin."
"Don't you worry about that, G'dan. I'll treat her like an antique china doll."
Inhaling through the lingering ache of recently-healed ribs, Jaxa slowly opened her eyes. A room decorated in the pseudo- aboriginal style often favoured by the border colonies came into focus. A human male leaned over her. It was a face all Starfleet security officers knew from the most-wanted bulletins. She schooled her features to careful neutrality.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, my dear. You've had a close call- more than one, if what G'dan tells me about your physical condition is true."
"I'm on Ra'al?"
"Yes, in the capital city. We dug you out of that tin can you crashed about a week ago. For a while, we weren't sure you would make it."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank us. We did only what we try to do for everyone around here."
"Which is?"
"Give them the chance they deserve. But that's a talk for another time. We can get better acquainted later. In the meantime, if you're up to it, G'dan tells me its safe to eat."
Jaxa's belly chose that moment to grunt imploringly. "I don't suppose you'd happen to have any hasperat? I haven't tasted it in months."
"Not yet, sister. You've been on nutrient injections all week. Hasperat'd burn right through your innards. The menu for today is rice pudding, plomeek and a few other soft foods I can't pronounce. But just between you and me, I have a Bajoran friend who always seems to have a line on the best hasperat. When you're up and about, I may just take you to meet her."
"I'd like that."
For a city on a world under constant threat of attack, Ra'al City seemed to be a remarkably happy place. It reminded Jaxa of her grandsire's descriptions of Bajor before the Occupation. And now she and a Federation public enemy were strolling through carefully irrigated and evidently hand-worked fields on the outskirts- and she had no idea what to do about it.
"There's no structured industry here, little modern technology, and we keep law and government also very informal. You could say we're all one big clan- we take care of our own easily, without the need of a system of welfare such as you find on more populated worlds. Barter and trade are far more common here than credits, or even latinum, though the goods we sell to Bajor and the Federation bring in some currency, some of it held in common, some privately."
"I've never seen a world like this before. Like Bajor as it should be. I'd like to settle down in a place like this- someday."
"You know, I almost believe you."
"Well, why not?"
"Because not many people planning on a life of horticulture have the kind of skills it takes to disable a warship and overcome three Cardassian soldiers- not to mention fly like a maniac and still manage a successful crash-landing."
"If you're asking-"
"If I may," he said dryly. "Not meaning to pry, o'course."
She grinned, charmed by his directness. To be fair, he had restrained himself from any personal questions for several days. "I shouldn't tell you."
"Like I said, I'm willing to give you time. But consider this. You've been through a rough stretch, and I'd bet the injuries you've just recovered from aren't the only marks it left. You might feel better for talking about it."
"It isn't that," Jaxa said, shyly. "It's just that it's beyond your clearance level."
He stared at her for a moment- and then burst out in a great belly-laugh, as though it were the funniest joke in the world. When he finally got his chuckling back under the lid, he said, "You know, I'd considered you might be Starfleet- especially when you got that submissive look all on your face when you first saw me- you know, the one you Bajorans all learned in the labour camps. But you didn't act like I imagined a Starfleet officer would in a situation like this. So I put it out of my head. My clearance level! Eesh, that's a good one. So, what's the deal?"
Sito decided to plunge in. Omitting the details of her mission, she let the story pour out unrestrained. Before long she was sobbing into his shoulder. He guided her to a bench, and held her, just listening, not showing any repulsion or shock.
When it was over, he said quietly, "My God. I have seen many remarkable people from many planets in my day- not many of them could have done what you did."
"I wasn't alone."
"I know. I've been there. Someone was looking out for you. And I daresay you're quite special to that Someone to have been preserved so many times, and touched so many lives. As to the Cardassians you killed- it's unfortunate, deplorable even, to have to take lives. And no, the pain will never go away. If it did- well, we'd be like them."