Impact

Jadzia opened her eyes. She saw dusty feet all around her, suddenly remembering her abduction she sat up quickly and looked around her. She was surrounded with females of every species; some were foreign to her, a thing that did not often happen to Dax after so many lives.

They were all tired and worn looking; from the thinning hair and various degrees of emaciation, she could see that they were malnourished. Some were positively skeletal, their clothes hanging from them in rags. The stink of starvation was palpable in the dusty air.

None seemed interested in her, avoiding eye contact when she looked at them. Very few children were to be seen, and they too were underweight. It was hot, the kind of suffocating heat that shimmered and distorted far away objects, making them seem as if they were being viewed through a silk curtain. Two twin suns blazed in the orange sky.

She scrambled to her feet and brushed her hair out of her face, weaving unsteadily for a moment, the transporter had thrown off her equilibrium, and then she started to make a slow circuit around the fence that hemmed her in. It was a sizable enclosure, but not large enough to hold all the prisoners. It was a simple metal fence, but there was a tell tale humming, a prickling of her skin when she got close. It was charged with a very high current. Crude but effective.

But why was she here? Where was Julian? Were these the only people here? She scanned the area; there were no men in sight. She took a steadying breath.

One of her questions was answered as a shrill whistle sounded and large wooden gates creaked open and a larger group of women flooded in looking, if possible, dirtier and more ragged than the group she was with. The eddy of flesh caused her to be pressed towards the fence, fearing being crushed into the security field she began to fight using her elbows and feet to clear a space. With one particularly vicious thrust she freed herself and tried to find a safer place where she was in less danger of being crushed. This turned out to be next to a group of gaunt Klingons. They were more than gaunt she saw, observing closer, they were emaciated, their heads seeming to be too large for the neck to support, their eyes dead. They eyed her with a dull sullenness that was more chilling to the Trill than the fact she was imprisoned in a holding pen. What could have happened that had reduced them to such despair? How long they must have been held to reduce them to this condition she did not want to speculate.

A cold knot of fear twined its way into her stomach.

The suns began to set with no provisions being offered. While the lessening of the heat was a relief Jadzia was still very aware of her thirst. She toured the confines; it was a crude corral, made of scraps of metal. As darkness fell Jadzia could see the inmates lying down in random places, there were no bed materials, the women just lay where they wished. Her legs weary with wandering around she sat down and clutched her knees to herself.

"Move!" She looked up startled to see who had barked the order; it was the tallest in the group of Klingons.

"I don't think so," she replied looking them up and down.

"Well, isn't this a brave one!" The tallest turned towards her companions, they laughed unpleasantly.

"We shall see how long she lasts, this mannerless female! I say less than two weeks."

There was another burst of laughter as they grouped tighter around her. One of them prodded her with her shoeless foot.

"Did you not hear us? Are you deaf? We said move, we require your spot."

"Did you not hear me?" Jadzia responded roundly.

"I said no, go find someone else to intimidate!"

She looked up at them squarely, unafraid.

There was no attention given to this exchange by any other of the inmates, conflicts happened all the time. The lucky ones died.

Suddenly she was jerked to her feet by a Klingon. Without hesitation Jadzia threw the assailant off of her and on her back and bent over the prostrate form. It was absurdly easy, there was almost no weight to the woman she threw, and she had used every ounce of strength she was accustomed to using in the holosuit programs. There was an enraged growl from the rest of the gang surged towards them.

"I said find somewhere else to sit you, spawn of a toothless targ!" Jadzia cursed them in flawless Klingonese, her epithets calling in question their descent and the honor of their houses and mothers linage.

The group of hostile women hesitated in the advance, astonished at being accosting in their native language. They looked at each other, and then the leader held up her hand.

"You speak our language well. How did this come about?"

Jadzia took a step back, releasing her attacker.

"I have spent time in company with Klingons in the past."

They looked at her with grudging respect. Clearly her outburst had impressed them,

"Come, sit with us."

Jadzia sat down, avoiding openly staring at the hollow cheeks of the faces, at the glaringly protruding forehead ridges.

"Where are we?'

"We do not know."

"Who are our captors, why are we here?"

"We know little, we were on a ship traveling to Tirell when suddenly we hit an asteroid, our ship was crippled, and we lost power in all systems except life support. We drifted for two days before we were transported off of our ship and arrived here."

"We clear land of stones and trees and quarry stones. If you do not work, you are beaten. The Breen are in charge of this camp, though we do not think they are native to this land. The Breen are notorious for being for hire. They are cowards with no honor."

Jadzia looked up, "That is much the same tale as happened to us."

The Klingon nodded, "It is so with all who are here, we are pulled from the sky and sent here to work."'

"I was traveling with a companion, where is he? Why are there no men here?"

"We do not know, we never have seen males of any species, other than the Breen, though we do not have any way of knowing their sex."

"What happens now?"

"Nothing for a while, it is the rest period. Rest, conserve your strength as much as you can, you will need it. When the sun begins to rise we will be chosen to go to fields or quarry, we have no way to be sure but it seems as if it is eighteen of your standard Earth hours we are laboring. If we are not singled out for punishment we will receive rations, meager ones. "

"What happens if you don't go out to work?"

"You are not fed. Then you are beaten" Was the simple reply.

Despite the blazing heat of earlier,a chill began to creep over Jadzia, she squinted up at the almost black sky; this planet was only heated when facing the suns. She realized she could expect the temperature to drop further as the night went on, this was confirmed as she saw the prisoners scooping up the loose sand and pouring it over themselves, having a primitive blanket to shield them from the imminent cold. Her companions had already started digging themselves in. Jadzia quickly followed suit, and none too soon, the temperature had dropped to the point it was hard to feel her fingers.

By the time she had finished covering herself with sand the Klingon women beside her were deeply sleep, their snores giving testament to their fatigue.

But for Jadzia sleep did not come the first night, it was spent squinting at the stars attempting to divine a pattern in them, some familiar constellation to act as a compass to guide her home. There was none.

The cold began to permeate the sand, causing her to shake and shiver in her hole in the ground. The uncertainty was maddening, the not knowing where she was, why she was here, where her companion was, why they had been separated. Her mind was racing, she began to feel slightly nauseous from thirst she became aware of a sticky sensation in her mouth, it was most uncomfortable, she wished day would come, it almost seemed as if the situation would be easier to bear if there was light, some other sound than the faint humming of the fence and the soft cries of prisoners whimpering in their sleep.

She was not used to feeling uncertain. That was the very opposite of who she, Jadzia, was. She was confident, that was her trademark, her birthright after so many lives lived. She had very rarely been in a situation she did not know how to handle since being joined. But none of her previous hosts had any experience with being captured and held on an unknown planet. The night stretched out almost unendurable. Then, almost imperceptibly a faint ribbon of light glimmered on the horizon.

A loud siren sounded shill and demanding in the pre-light and the lumps beneath the sand began to move, coming to the surface and shedding sand as the stepped towards the gate in a ragged, uneven line. A hand grasped her arm.

"Stay with us."

It was the Klingon woman from the night before, she opened her mouth to express thanks but a repressive look caused the words to die on her lips.

There were approaching figures - Breen.

They swung open the gate and slowly the prisoners shuffled forward where a Breen flicked his gloved hand left or right causing two groups to form, Jadzia hesitated, uncertain, but the masses behind her pushed her forward, then she was pushed, stumbling and staggering to the group on the right . Most of the group of Klingon's joined as well. She fervently hoped that water would be offered soon, but the sorting still continued. A Vulcan woman joined their group; she gazed at Jadzia impassively, and then seemed to loose interest. Almost unbelievably quickly the heat began to blaze down causing Jadzia's skin to tingle unpleasantly. Then a shout rang out over the group and they began to shuffle forward, it was an uncomfortable trek, it must have been almost a kilometer when they came upon a deep pit in the ground, everything surrounding them was coated with a powdery white dust, this must be the quarry.

A rag-tag line formed and she could see equipment being passed out to the women in front of her.

When her turn came she was given a shovel and directed towards a tunnel on the right side.

To her relief the Klingon leader followed her. The tunnel was dimly lit, most of the torches had burned out, and this caused a moment of concern as she considered the possibility of carbon monoxide.

She kept walking until the tunnel began to lower causing her to stoop to continue.

Then abruptly, the passage ended.

"Now we dig." It seemed as if the Klingon had decided to take Jadzia under her wing.

"Where?"

She was given an impatient look, it was clear the woman regarded her as slow. She motioned to the end of the tunnel and began wielding her pick, burying it deep in the soft chalky rock.

Jadzia followed her example and was surprised at how easily her tool slid into the rock, but it proved to be almost impossible to pull out. Several times Jadzia tried to ask questions of her companion but she was resolutely ignored. Soon it became apparent why, there was a groan behind her, she turned to see a Bajoran woman sliding down the wall of the tunnel overcome by exhaustion and malnutrition, Jadzia took a step to assist her despite the Klingon's hissed warning, she bent over her, but a sudden searing pain across her back caused her to arch and yelp. A suited figure struck her again and struck her once more, she staggered back and was met by the Klingon shoving the tool back in her hands and and pushing her forcibly to the spot where she had been digging previously. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the fallen woman being dragged away, her head lolling to the side.

After this she stayed in her place and did not look at any disturbances. There was one five minute break when they were allowed to go relieve themselves. There was no food or water offered. She began to feel light headed from thirst.

After a day that seemed to stretch into infinity a shrill whistle sounded, wearily the Klingon stood up and started out the way she came. Jadzia followed.

They surrendered the mining instruments as they exited the mine. Jadzia followed the line that seemed to be shuffling with slightly more animation now. Then she saw it, it was a small station distributing food and water. But as she approached she saw a sight that as thirsty and hungry as she was, almost caused her to step out of the line.

It was the Bajoran woman, she had evidently been left out in the brutal heat for hours, her face was pinched, her face scarlet, cracked and oozing, eyes wide and staring. Jadzia could only hope the poor woman was dead, but when she was close enough to step over the body, it blinked. She stopped in her tracks, her mind refusing to grasp what she was seeing, not wanting to believe it. Then she received a push from behind, she narrowly missed stepping on the women. Then it was her turn in line, she was given a piece of hard bread-like materiel and a cup containing less than eight ounces of water, she gazed at it for a moment in dismay, she knew his would not be able to sustain Trill life for long. But she still turned and made a half step towards the fallen woman, ready to share her water, only to be pulled along in the iron grasp of her mentor. A Breen caught the slight step out of line and used the butt end of his weapon to club her on the side of her head. Jadzia stumbled back in the line dazed and disorientated. The woman gestured that she drink. Most of her water had spilled when she had been clubbed. The water and bread tasted metallic.

All too soon it was gone and she was trudging in a line back to the holding pen. As tired as she was she could only guess how much worse it had been to be out in the heat all day laboring to clear fields. She felt a rush of gratitude to the Klingon women who had obviously taken pains to make sure she was working in the tunnels.

Once in the enclosure she sought out the women again.

This time she did not have to initiate conversation.

"You will be drug to the surface and left to die an excruciating death from exposure if you keep acting weak and faltering.

Helping others may be a Federation trait, but here, it will get you killed."

Jadzia did not respond for a second, unbidden the face of the dying Bajoran woman rose before her, her throat spasmed briefly, she felt nauseous.

"Why do they use manual labor? Surely machines would be more efficient at clearing than workers are."

She changed the subject, pushing aside the guilt that was twining up around her like diseased ivy.

The smallest Klingon grunted,

"It is the dust from the rock; it finds its way into the machines and ruins them."

"Have you ever tried to escape?"

They exchanged guarded looks.

"Once, but after two days of being left out in the desert alone as an example I decided to try and find another way to escape, besides, I did not want to leave here knowing our captors were alive."

Jadzia nodded.

"You need to stop these foolish questions, dig your shelter while there is light and warmth in the sand. Tomorrow you will be in the fields; you will need to conserve all of your strength for that. "

There was no denying the exhaustion that clouded her head and caused her thinking to slow, it felt oppressive, as if there was an entity that was somehow stealing a part of her. Her lash marks smarted and pulled with every movement causing her to wince as she dug.

This night she fell asleep as soon as she closed her eyes and dreamed of soft brown eyes and a boyish smile.

The following day was a nightmare; the welts on her back were gritty with the sand that had worked its way in during the night, she was beaten for stumbling, for not pulling a stump quickly enough, for being too slow to get to her feet after the rest period was over.

The suns blazed down, she lost track over how many women collapsed and were drug away that day. One was a Klingon. Her hands became raw but she was afraid to stop to tear strips from her sleeves to protect them. Heat rose up like a living thing to assault those on the surface. Jadzia longed for the relative comfort of the mines.

By the end of the day her back was a mass of criss crossed wounds, her uniform was shredded. To add insult to injury she was singled out of the ration line by an armed guard. It seemed that she was still to be punished by being denied sustenance.

Her tongue was thick from dehydration, her hands began to shake. A raging need constantly gnawed at her, tinting every thought. She stumbled to her accustomed spot, too tired to dig a hole, fearing infection of the wounds. She wished for the reassuring whirr of a tricorder and a calm confident doctor to tell her she was going to be fine.

The Klingon group approached, they were one short. They did not speak, though softly, late in the numbingly cold night she heard them chanting the Death Chant. A deep sadness enveloped her in the night.

On this night she thought of her companion, of rescue parties and replicators, anything to keep her mind off the pain and thirst. This brought her back to the question of where Julian was, of what happened to him, though she was sure judging by how the females were treated he was faring even worse.

Her eye became oddly moist considering how she craved moisture, and then she realized the stinging in her eyes produced no tears.

She sternly ordered the weakness away; she knew it was imperative that she conserve fluids. Then exhaustion claimed her and she fell asleep, but woke later, shivering in the cold, too stiff to dig, too cold to sleep. Tonight she was learning an important lesson, no matter how badly she felt, she must always prepare shelter before the night. She found herself fantasizing about the sound of rain on Trill, how it had surrounded her with a blanket of sound as it beat on the roof. With that thought on her mind she slept.

Soon the days blurred into each other, the planet kept turning, scorching days, freezing night, her defenses began to wear down, and she did not ever think she would see her home again. Beatings were a daily occurrence. She began to suffer from joint pain and then stomach and back pain. Tomorrow was always too distant for her to contemplate now; her thoughts were centered on surviving the present moment she endured.

She frequently became disoriented and confused; she did not remember when her mentor disappeared or what happened to her. Then there was only one of the group left. She began to cease being preoccupied where Julian was, where the rescue party was, how long she had been there, her life was a struggle to survive the suns. Her skin cracked and oozed, walking became almost impossible because of her growing weakness, but at least the thirst was gone. She knew that her symbiont was dying. As an aquatic creature Dax was more vulnerable to dehydration than a humanoid. Most of her fluids were absorbed by the symbiont, but Jadzia knew it would never be enough.

The days she was lucky she was assigned to the tunnels and had some respite from the heat. It never rained on this planet.