Chapter 24
Sito stirred. It was not because of a pleasant reason, like she had had a pleasant sleep and was now well rested. No, it was negative. The harsh winds of Cardassia IV had been howling almost non-stop that night eerie screams of pain and terror pierced the air, the sounds related to oil refinery, ore extraction, and mining filled in the rest of the night's horrific melody. The temperature dropped dramatically during the blackness of night, yet when the side of the rocky planet faced the Cardassian sun, the atmosphere was scorchingly hot. Sito seemed to recall some prisoners ages ago discussing how their soup would be evaporated before their very eyes. And, of course, they would not be allowed another batch.
The cool air trickled down her neck and down her spine; into her core. She shivered, but the movement Woolf have likely been much more violent had Merek not been there. As it was when the two of them had decided to close their eyes and sleep the night away, leaving their escape until the following morning, the Cardassian had his arm around the Bajoran; holding her close and keeping her warm.
Detecting her movement, Merek awoke, too. Being Cardassian and having lived and worked on the fourth planet from the star for so long, he had pretty much gotten used to the wild temperature fluctuations. "What is it?" he asked.
Sito opened her eyes. She looked up at him and smiled. "I think... maybe... this was a bad idea, Donal," she stuttered, teeth chattering.
"You're cold," he observed.
She blinked, annoyed that he would not elaborate on her previous point. "You aren't," she chided.
He frowned, and then his expression regained neutrality. "I am accustomed to the climate," he reminded her.
"I mean it, Donal," she insisted. "We'll get caught out."
He shrugged and his nonchalance with the matter alarmed her. "What does it matter?" Before he could give her a chance to answer, he added, "After all, I am overseer... of this hemisphere. I have complete control. No one can tell me otherwise."
"I know," she agreed. "But, it won't only be you. It'll be me, too."
He considered, pursing his lips.
Sito pulled back, taking her not-well-rested head off his cuirassed chest.
"Still," he maintained, regarding her sternly.
She sighed, twiddling her thumbs. "I'm scared, Donal." Despite all her years living in the Occupation, of which she had survived the unbridled horrors, and the later time she had spent with Starfleet, Sito was scared. Scared not only for herself, but for Merek, and for Bajor. For Joret Dal.
He took her face in his rough hands. His expression softening, as Sito so liked it to do, he planted a kiss on her lips. Drawing back, he said firmly, "There is no need to be. I have told you." He smoothed her cheeks, still keeping eye contact. "Don't worry."
She nodded, but not convincingly so. "I know, I'll try. But, its easier said than done."
His lips curled up in a slight smirk. "Will you be all right if I went back to my office to get us some food?"
Terror spread across her face. "What...?" she started in a whisper. "There'll be food in the-" she broke off. "How are we to get off this... planet?"
He paused but quickly decided, "I have a personal shuttlecraft."
"There'll be food there, won't there?" she asked, hopeful. "Replicators, at least."
He shook his head severely. "No."
"No replicators?" she asked, wide-eyed. Why would a shuttlecraft, especially one that belonged to someone as important as Merek was, not have a replicator?
Again, he shook his head. "No. There is no need for them. Cardassia is a poor planet, as are most of its people."
Sito wanted to object; to interrupt. Bajor was poorer. Had been made poorer by the Cardassians. She held her opinions back, thinking it best.
"I will have to get nutritional items replicated at my office. Then, I shall bring them here," he explained.
"No," she murmured as he got to his feet.
He regarded her quizzically. "We'll starve."
Sito wasn't sure if that prospect terrified her more than the idea of being captured by Cardassians. Starvation was a long process, but execution usually was not. However, as she had to keep reminding herself whenever that particular dilemma came to mind, they were Cardassians. Their torture methods were supposed to be worse even than those employed by the Tal Shiar.
"Please don't leave," she begged, standing up also.
He looked down at her, set a hand on each of her shoulders. "I have to, Jaxa," he maintained.
"No..." she said in a small, disbelieving voice. She wanted to embrace him, but knew she had to remain strong. For a Bajoran - under any circumstances - to demonstrate colossal weakness to a Cardassian would be shameful to say the least.
He nodded. Sternly. So sternly that it unnerved her. "I will not be long." He reached out to run his fingers lazily through her hair. "Try not to draw attention to yourself. Patrols rarely come this way. That is no to say they won't, though, he continued." She sniffed. He pulled her close. Holding her head, he said gently, "I'll be back soon." With that, he stepped back. Before she could protest, he was off.
The guard looked confused. "Sir?" he asked, watching his commanding officer stride over.
Merek continued his amble until he reached the guard at the mesh gate to the complex. "No questions. Open the gate."
Not a moment did that guard waste with hesitation. He titled his head assertively and opened the gate. "Yes, sir."
Merek slightly bowed his head, acknowledging the young man's competence. He made for his quarters and took as many replicator rations as he could. He did not know where exactly he and Sito were to go - if their escape was even successful. He knew that he, himself, would likely have no trouble in getting off-world. It would totally different for Sito.
Stepping out of his spacious office, he took the time to remember his time there. He decided it was a complete waste of time. He didn't like the job. He hated it, he would go so far as to say.
A commotion broke his painful reminiscence. Before he could judge what it was about - probably just a group of prisoners squabbling over a drop of soup or a crumb of bread, he heard someone calling his name. His ears pricked up, registering the noise.
"Sir!" a disembodied voice said. It sounded desperate or keen or excited, but Merek couldn't tell which emotion contributed most to the as yet unnamed person's mood. "Gul Merek," there was that voice again.
Merek spun around, and left the replicator rations, not thinking straight. He followed the voice and was met with a familiar sight.
"Wiko?" he said, confused. "You are not on- oh." He remembered that the mostly inexperienced but largely competent officer now had longer shifts, as his 'replacement'.
"Sir," Wiko said quickly. "With all due respect, I think you ought to see this."
The overseer frowned. "See what?"
"This way, sir," was all Wiko said. He gestured to the exit corridor and then proceeded to walk in that direction. Merek duly followed.
"Wiko," Merek snapped. "What is going on?"
They turned a corner.
"Sir, you should see this," Wiko simply said, stopping in his tracks. As they both exited the complex in which Merek's office was, they reached the outside. The hot air rushed past them.
Merek's jaw dropped open. "Wiko. You-" he gave up.
He watched with unblinking eyes as Sito was dragged across the harsh desert ground.
Sito thrashed her arms about and tried to kick her captors, but she knew deep down it would be futile. A Bajoran woman against two Cardassian soldiers. And, she had handcuffs on. They bore into her sensitive skin even more so than the shackles she had to wear during labour. The guard held her firmly, one at each side. She was glad it didn't rain much on Cardassia IV, otherwise she would have been falling into not only rocks and sand, but mud and slime.
She looked up, but her blonde hair was loose and hanging over her eyes. Through the wild strands, she caught sight of Merek. "Donal..." she said weakly as she was shunted along.
He could only watch in pitiful, painful silence.
She tripped over a rock as she was hauled with more force, in the direction of the jailhouse.
She knew it meant death. Cardassian trials were not worth the time.
Merek could do nothing but watch. His silence caught the attention of the gathering crowd of workers.
"Get back to work!" he suddenly snapped at them, and the oppressed mass obeyed him.
Wiko quirked an eyebrow at him, but only discreetly. "Sir?"
"I demand to know what is going on," he snapped.
Wiko cleared his throat. "A patrol found her in the outback," he explained. "She is an escaped prisoner, sir. Surely you understand...?"
Merek shook his head angrily. "Of course I do," he quipped. "But, I am overseer. I do as I please." He turned on his heel and headed for the jailhouse. He was not going to lose her.
Wiko was hot on his heels. "Sir, not to speak out of turn, but what do you intend to do?"
Merek was not particularly close to his second in command, but he trusted him. One forms a good working relationship with those they spend so much time, but rarely anything more. He did trust Wiko; he had faith in his abilities. He had read through his report and personally appointed him as his first officer. Still, despite the evident rift, the younger man knew there was something between his commander and and the Bajoran woman.
Merek shot him a bemused look. "I- Look, don't ask any questions. You are in charge." He paused and then added pointedly, "Completely."
Wiko blinked, staring at him. "No, sir," he argued. "I cannot be. I am not experienced enough."
Merek approached him and sighed. He set a hand on his shoulder. "I have faith in you, Wiko."
"Sir," he, however, maintained. "What will happen to you? Where will you go?"
Merek studied him closely. "I will deport... the prisoner to a different penal colony."
"Why?" Wiko blurted out. "Sir," he added.
"She has involved herself with too much here."
Wiko frowned lightly but promptly nodded. "I understand, sir."
"I will complete the essential paperwork regarding your promotion soon," Merek elaborated.
"What of Gul Necat's death?" Wiko asked.
Merek pursed his lips in thought. "An investigation will no doubt be drawn up," he answered. "It has nothing to do with me."
Wiko regarded him carefully, but let it go.
Sito watched with wary eyes as a dark, shady figure entered the jailhouse. A shudder ran down her spine; the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. As they came closer to her cell, she couldn't help but shrink back a little. A Cardassian, no doubt, she guessed.
Yet, it was a pleasant Cardassian. She recognised his face; his perfectly sculpted cheekbones highlighted ever more by the dim, uneven lighting. "Donal!" she said in delight.
"Computer," he said assertively. "Remove force field."
"State command code," the computer system replied monotonously.
Merek said, "Merek-alpha-5-7."
"Authorised," the computer said and the invisible force field dropped. As soon as it had done so, Sito fell into his arms. As she looked up, she asked, "What's happening?"
"I understand your confusion," he acknowledged. "No one will ask any questions. I have given in my resignation."
"No," she said quickly. "You can't!"
He studied her curiously. "I'm sorry?"
She sighed. "I just-" she sighed again. She rubbed her hands up and down his shoulders. Looking up at him, into his eyes, she said, "I don't want you to throw away all of your life... for me." When those words had left her mouth, she instantly found herself wondering why she had said them. She was, after all, telling a Cardassian that they shouldn't cease their title of being head of a brutal, unfair, unjust, and probably illegal penal colony.
"I didn't want this job, I told you," he reassured her.
"You said you needed the money," she reminded him.
He frowned. "I did- I do. But," he said, bringing a hand up to stroke her face, "I would rather be with you." He drew her into a kiss, and then apologised as he handed her a pair of handcuffs.
She held out her hands and looked away as he fastened them around her wrists.
"We must go," he told her. "The transport is waiting."
"Transport?" she asked. "A shuttlecraft?"
He nodded curtly. "Indeed."