Chapter 9
There was a feeling of anticipation at the station; something was coming. Some event, not yet communicated downward; the senior staffers walked around looking tense. Shuttles ran from the surface continually, carrying administrators for one meeting after another; faces passed in the corridors were worried, frustrated, or angry.
Skurs was silent on the cause; he refused to discuss anything with her. He spent more time than ever at his console, and Jevah began to wish she had taken Naprem up on her offer of social times more often; spending hours not talking to someone, sharing a room with a silent stranger until time to sleep, was like living back in the barracks, without even the possibility of conversation. They barely spoke over meals; only the slight conversation with Binna and the others in the LSC managed to mitigate Jevah's feelings of isolation.
It was Binna who finally managed to put the pieces together; she overheard enough snippets of conversation amongst the Cardassians to figure it out. "Some sort of inspection team from Cardassia Prime, maybe even from Central Command," she reported to the gathered workers on break. "I don't know if it's good or bad, but a lot of brass are coming from higher up to look things over. They are rushing back and forth between making things perfect on the station and trying to beef up security enough to prevent further bombs or riots or assassination attempts." She glanced around, shrugged. "Maybe they are coming down on the Prefect, increasing the production quotas or something."
Maintenance teams were everywhere, and the casual labor workers were impressed into cleaning and re-cleaning every public part of the station. Supplies were laid in for impressive meals; banners with symbols of Cardassian nationalism were everywhere. Jevah kept a low profile, staying out of Skurs' way while he worked in the evening, paying strict attention to her console during the day, hoping against hope that she would not be involved in some of the social situations that would undoubtedly accompany such a top-heavy visit.
After days of preparation, the whispers finally circulated. "The ship has docked."
"Three escorts, with squads of troops and attack ships."
"It's the Governor Provost of the region, several inspectors, and two members of the ruling Council!"
As most Bajorans had virtually no visibility into the ruling structure of the Cardassians, most of these meant nothing, but it was evident that the people arriving wielded a great deal of power over Bajor and its administrators.
Footsteps rang in the passageways as groups of touring visitors were guided about the station; they peered into every room, every desk, every functional space and most of the non-functional spaces as well. They came through the LSC, but spent mercifully little time there, and the workers were ignored completely or pushed out of the way where necessary. It was better than Jevah might have hoped; she expected that if someone tripped in front of the visiting dignitaries, they would be shot immediately, just for the crime of having drawn attention to themselves. She did not see the behavior of the Cardassians during their moments of attention; the workers had been instructed to stay at their stations and not turn unless specifically called out. They obeyed without question.
A reception was held, a party planned; Jevah stayed in Skurs' quarters when his presence was compelled. He came back quiet and grim, smelling of spirits, but uncommunicative, and he laid awake for a long time that night, staring at the ceiling or out the viewport. Finally, he told her. "The inspection team are high-level First- and Third-Order leaders, plus military and senior advisors for the Central Command. There is a gathering next week that we will attend; I will get you time and a visit to the supply rooms to prepare for it."
Jevah nodded. "I had hoped—that I could stay out of it."
"As had I. But there is no way to avoid this one; escorts for the officers are commanded. Additional women are being brought to the station to fill out the numbers."
Jevah said nothing; she was still appalled at the use of Bajoran women for "comfort" by the Cardassians. Skurs seemed surprised at her silence. "The women chosen are fortunate," he said. "They will be well-treated, even pampered, while on the station."
"I can't convince you differently," she said shortly, turning away. "But their families would not agree."
Another party, a command performance that Jevah dreaded. She determined to stay quiet, to draw no notice, to be dull. Her dress was formal without being flashy; a dark color and straight lines that neither flaunted nor disguised her.
This one was held in a room larger than she had seen on the station; there were tables with drinks, others with finger foods, and a third with items she did not recognize. Skurs steered her away from that one, and few others approached it. "Drugs and intoxicants," he said, "for those who choose. None are approved for the military; those will be used only by the political and ruling powers." Drinks in hand, they circled the room, looking for the place where the junior officers gathered to stay out of the way. A far corner finally revealed them; the engineers, technical officers, and maintenance staff chatted amongst themselves, milling nervously, while trying not to look as if they were avoiding the rest of the gathering.
The women standing with these officers were silent; most were unfamiliar to Jevah, and she suspected they were those newly-arrived. They looked nervous, watchful, and they tended to cluster together defensively whenever attention turned away from them. Jevah watched the crowd that usually circled around the Prefect shifting aimlessly; the Prefect this time was in the middle of a group of older Cardassians, all talking quietly, a few on the outside of the group discouraging others from approaching. Jevah did not see Naprem right away; she finally caught sight of her with another group of women that she recognized from previous gatherings. So the political maneuverings were still going on, she guessed. Whatever prompted this visit is still being worked out.
A buffet was set out; many of the room's occupants approached the tables, filled plates, and moved into another room where tables were arranged, but when the line had finished, there were still small groups of conversations going on in the room. The local Cardassians were on their best behavior; they displayed none of the levity, the rough jokes or loud conversations she had seen before. Skurs' group, the technical types, were still heatedly discussing some engineering theory that had been suggested, and did not seem to notice that the party had gone on without them. Or perhaps, Jevah thought, they did see it, and didn't care. Perhaps they are aware of the hierarchical posturing, without participating in them—their passion is not about advancement, but about their technology and systems. Only when a senior said something to them did the group break up and head for the tables, still arguing vehemently.
The visiting Cardassians, sitting in a group near the front of the room, talked quietly amongst themselves, ignored the women who accompanied them, as if they were slightly offended at having Bajorans at their table. She mentioned this to Skurs; he agreed. "They do not come here often; they are not familiar with the Bajorans at all, except as a subjugated people. They would not consider them worthy of attention; I am surprised some of these did not bring their own wives or mistresses." She contrasted this with the behavior of the Cardassians at her table, who treated their partners at least with neglectful courtesy; they were less interested in the women or the party than in the possibility of discussion with their peers from other departments.
As the meal moved to a close and staffers cleared the tables, one of the oldest Cardassians at the head table stood and signaled for silence. "Governor-General Takorn," Skurs whispered, "the Regional governor for this entire sector. The Prefect reports to Central Command via the Governor-General."
Takorn's speech reviewed a proposed five-year plan to finish the mining of the planetary resources, prepare Bajor for the arrival of Cardassian colonists, and build the settlements the new arrivals would need. Jevah exchanged glances with some of the other women at the table at various points; this was indeed news. This would change everything about the Occupation; the Bajorans would see this as the final threat, the end of the effort to not only take away their planet, but drive them into extinction or permanent existence as a slave class.
Prefect Dukat spoke next, outlining some of the plans mentioned in Takorn's remarks, including the need for more Cardassians to be stationed on the planet to control and organize the activities that would prepare for colonization. He was confident and smooth, and Jevah recognized that his charisma and intelligence were powerful inducements for those who supported him in power. His ambition, radiating strongly, was matched in strength by those at the head table, those who struggled for power and influence. Dukat was a match for any of them, she thought, and she suspected he would never stop clawing his way to the top.
While she brooded, conversation sprang out at their table about the expansion of systems required by the outlined plans. Most of the activities were taking place on the planet, so only general facilities were needed; things long understood and easily assembled. But a mine had been mentioned for one moon in the system, and that would take some design and installation work to create the mine itself, the living structures for the miners and administrators, the life support and maintenance systems. It would be more complicated than Terok Nor, even; the site had the potential to be larger than the station. Workers were cheap; they reasoned; technology to eliminate the need for most workers was more expensive. They would build to keep workers alive, but not in comfort.
Jevah sipped her wine, looking away from the front of the room, away from the gathered powerful at the head table. They played with people's lives as if they were gambling stones, items of little value to be squabbled over, distributed, shared, or taken, with no regard for anything but winning. Chairs scraped on floors; everyone was standing to applaud the speakers and the plans they had outlined. Jevah stood as well, impelled by a tight grip on her arm; she was grateful that their table was near the back. She looked around curiously, and saw that few of the women in the room were applauding; those who were moved slowly, as if generating just enough motion to blend into the crowd. How could they expect the Bajorans to cheer this news? And what, she wondered, would happen when the news of this plan inevitably made its way to the people who lived in the cities, the farmers, the craftsmen, the Resistance?
The party broke up slowly after that; the visiting inspection team drifting away toward what Jevah suspected was a private gathering, the other groups slowly dissipating down the hallways to lounges, bars, and private quarters. The technical types ended up in a small conference room halfway around the station; they had brought bottles and diagrams with them, and the technical discussion and drinking went on into the night. The Bajoran women ended up sitting at one end of the table, talking quietly amongst themselves; the Cardassians didn't seem to notice. Jevah was the only one who even tried to listen to the conversation; she saw the occasional curious glance from engineers and technicians, as they tried to identify her, to sort her. Neither fish nor fowl, she thought, and was just as pleased. I am not sure I want to fit into anyone's categories here.
Finally, in the early hours of the morning, the gathering broke up, and the Cardassians turned their attention back to the spirits and their companions. The group broke up into couples and smaller groups, wandering off to their own private pursuits. She and Skurs and another couple walked aimlessly down the corridor, the Cardassians continuing a discussion so esoteric in content that Jevah could make nothing of it. They ended up in the other officer's rooms, with more kanar and darkness finally taking over the conversation.
The room was large, more like Skurs' quarters, and the other officer, introduced as Kehtel, was a designer and supervisor of part of the ore-processing system that filled the lower part of the station. He and Skurs were discussing some esoteric point of system design, arguing drunkenly over things Jevah could not begin to understand, and she and the other woman, Kadia, stood near the viewport and looked out at the stars. "How long will they go on like this?" Kadia asked nervously.
Jevah shrugged. "I don't know; usually we leave the gatherings when we can. Skurs is not so comfortable with social situations; I have never seen him interact with such a small group or individual before.
Kadia seemed about to cry. "How long have you been here?" she asked.
"Almost a year," Jevah said. "But I am a computer operator, I did not come here—to serve the officers so directly."
"I have been here for three days," Kadia confessed. "I was taken from my family and brought here with others; this is the first time I have been out of my rooms since I came here. I don't know where anything is here— and I don't know—what to expect."
"You do know what to expect," Jevah told her quietly. "You are here because these Cardassians want pretty women on their arms for social events, and in their beds afterwards."
Kadia's lip trembled. "Yes," she admitted, "I do know."
Jevah held her hand tightly for a moment. "There is no choice, here; there is no running away. Just make the best you can out of the situation. You are fed, clothed, and sheltered, and are far more comfortable than most Bajorans on the planet."
Kadia nodded. "But—I had a lover; we were—"
Jevah hushed her. "If you want to survive here, you have to put those thoughts aside. You have to concentrate on what is here, in front of you. Think about the past while you are alone, but when you are around others, you have to keep your eyes open and watch out for yourself. Nobody is going to take better care of you than you."
Kadia nodded again and took a deep breath; Jevah hoped her words had gotten through. This poor woman-child, really-was on her own in an unfamiliar world, and would have very little time to adjust, but adjust she must.
A burst of laughter from behind them brought their attention back to the room; Kadia waited until her face was under control before she turned.
"Are we out of kanar!?" Kehtel demanded.
Skurs, from the opposite end of the couch, produced a bottle from the floor beside him. "We are not, not on my watch," he announced. "We just need someone to share it with."
"That's our cue," Jevah said quietly. She picked up an empty glass from a side counter and went to Skurs, where he shifted to give her access to his lap. Kehtel stretched out his legs and Kadia stood uncertainly until he pulled her down to sit with him. Skurs poured them all more kanar before taking a long drink from the bottle. With his empty hand he pulled Jevah close and nuzzled her neck, while Kehtel finished his drink, stood, and led a reluctant Kadia into the bedroom. The door closed behind them, but Skurs did not seem to notice.
"Can we go to your rooms?" Jevah whispered against his skin, not wanting to spend a night or even an hour on a couch in someone else's rooms. He didn't seem to hear, but dropped the corked bottle onto the couch to use both hands to stroke her back and hips.
"Skurs, please," Jevah's voice broke. "I don't want to feel like—"
"Like what?" he asked. His hands slowed, and he pulled his head back to peer at her in the darkness.
"Like—those women—taken and handled in public, humiliated, treated like toys—"
"We are not in public," he said, not moving.
"But we are not private, and this is not your room, and they could come out at any time. I don't feel—comfortable here. I feel—used."
Skurs did not move for several moments, then he moved her aside and stood up, pulling her up by the arm. They left, walked down the darkened corridors for what seemed like a long time until they returned to Skurs' room. Still silent, Skurs lowered the lights until the room was lit only by the reflected starlight, then pulled Jevah back onto his lap as he settled onto a corner of the couch. She put her arms around his shoulders and leaned against him, grateful that he had listened to her. His breath on her neck was warm and slow, and they sat unmoving for a long time.
