B'hava'el System
Kendra Province, Bajor

Captain Bhan Larina stepped off the transport and blinked in the bright light of the Bajoran sun. It always seems brighter in Kendra Province, she mused, adjusting the strap of her duffle on her shoulder as she took the first few steps away from the platform. A few meters away, she paused, not sure she should continue by foot or call for ground transportation. Deciding that she was in no hurry and it was a nice day for a walk, even a walk this distance—a few kilometers, she thought, forcing herself to think in Federation Standard measurements—she continued on foot.

She always liked Kendra Province this time of year, with the kava plants in full bloom, the light breeze blowing their full scent into her face, so unlike the mountainous region surrounding Tempasa in the Dahkur Province, which even after the soil reclamators had been deployed following the Cardassian departure, could grow little more than wheat. As someone accustomed to the warmer temperatures of Kendra, Bhan had taken the move to the more temperate Tempasa harder than most of her comrades, but if there was one lesson she learned early in life, it was how to adapt.

"Larina! Bhan Larina!" a voice called out, interrupting her thoughts and stopping her in her tracks. She squinted against the sun and smiled when she saw who it was.

"Ranjen Jakor," she greeted with a nod as he caught up to her on the road. She slowed her pace to match that of the older priest. "How have you been?"

"Aren't I supposed to be the one to ask that?" he asked with a laugh and earning a smile in reply. He had been the local cleric since before Bhan was born, giving sermons and advising the local farmers and villagers for more than thirty years. There were periods in her teenage years when she sought his counsel on a daily basis, craving the stability that the spiritual life offered. Now an adult, she no longer considered herself to be religious, but still occasionally called upon her childhood ranjen for advice. "I didn't expect to run into you on the road back from the market."

"My company's leave was extended, so I found myself with more time off than anticipated," she explained. There was a pause before she quietly asked, "Is the general around?"

"I would assume so," Jakor replied. "He was at the temple this morning to offer his daily prayer of remembrance and stayed for the early service. I haven't seen him since, but he didn't mention going anywhere. He has always asked me to perform a plea for protection whenever he leaves Bajor. You didn't tell him you were coming?"

"I told him that I had extra leave and plans to visit the estate, but I didn't give him a specific time of arrival or any set agenda. We don't always operate on the same schedule."

"That must be difficult, to be in the same organization and working so separate from each other."

She shrugged. "I don't know it any other way," she pointed out. He nodded in agreement, but didn't say anything. They continued to walk in companionable silence along the path through the kava fields. After they crossed over a white-wood bridge spanning a familiar creek, they entered a small wooded area. "This is where our paths diverge, Ranjen," Bhan said.

He smiled knowingly. "I see you still have to do things your own way, Larina."

She grinned back at him, the first true, honest grin she had given anybody in a long time. "Always," she replied. She stepped off the path and into the woods, now following a trail marked only by her memories. It was a shortcut she had found years ago, cutting down the distance from her family's estate to the village center from seven kerrilon to three. About one kilometer, she corrected. If she was going to be on a Federation ship, she was going to have to start using their measurements, even though they didn't make any sense to her.

"Halt," she heard a voice command, causing her to freeze in position on a log lying over the winding creek. She glanced up and breathed a sigh of relief to see that the voice came from a tow-headed boy who looked no older than ten years old; still, she berated herself for the lack of concentration on her surroundings and for letting a child get the better of her. "Who goes there? Are you friend, or foe?"

"Friend, I hope," she replied wryly. "My name is Bhan Larina. My father is General Bhan Nentar. He lives about two kerrilon in that direction," she said, pointing. "And you are?"

"Minar Petre," he replied, lowering the stick he was brandishing as a weapon. "My brother Elis and I are the guardians of these woods."

"In that case, I am formally requesting permission to pass through your territory on my journey." She gave a small bow to mark her words. She didn't know the Minar family, but the farms in Kendra Province were all several hecapates in size, the houses spread far from each other and isolated by the large fields.

Petre thought about this for a moment before nodding gravely. "Permission granted," he finally declared. "Just as long as you head straight through on your way home and don't stay too long."

"You have my word, good sir," she said playfully, again bowing before continuing on her journey. She kept the creek in her peripheral vision until she saw two jumja trees unnaturally intertwined, the unexpected result of a last-ditch experiment to save the taller of the plants after a lightening storm more than two decades before. She crossed over to the trees, reflexively murmuring a ritual prayer for the land and touching her fingers to the rough bark as she walked by.

While traversing the shade of the woods, she had forgotten about the brightness of the day's sky, again blinking against the sunlight as she stepped out into a vividly blooming kava field. After her eyes grew accustomed to the extra light, she continued on her journey, carefully walking between rows of kava plants through the field, smiling politely at those working the field, many of them children more interested in running around and playing tag than tending to the plants. She remembered spending lazy summer days in the kava fields, an unspoken game she played with her unwitting father, seeing how many hours she could work with the farm hands before he would notice and call for her to return inside to study. Some days, she didn't even make it out the door before he noticed, but most of the time, he had no idea she had even left the house.

"Larina!" a voice exclaimed, interrupting her thoughts and causing her to spin in surprise. She flushed slightly at the realization that it was now twice in the span of an hour that she had been caught off guard. Squinting against the sun to figure out who called her name, she caught a glimpse of a tall, middle-aged woman on the far side of the field, once-bright red hair now almost entirely gray, a straight and proud posture replaced by one belonging to a woman who spent a good deal of time bent over as she tended to the fields. Yom Quana was looking at her with a bemused expression on her face, knowing that she had surprised, and embarrassed, her former pupil. She waved the Militia officer over, and Bhan obediently went, kissing the schoolteacher on a wrinkled cheek.

"I didn't know you were coming home, Larina," Yom said as Bhan straightened. "It's been so long; I was worried you had forgotten where your home was."

"It hasn't been that long," Bhan protested, even as she knew that it had, indeed, been that long. "My leave was extended and I decided that a few days in Kendra were just what I needed."

"A few days in Kendra would do most your comrades and the rest of the government some good," the older woman replied. She turned behind her and shouted out for her husband. "Mikai! Look who came home!"

Yom Mikai straightened, hopping slightly as he turned toward his wife, his ruddy face breaking into a grin. "Captain Larina!" he called out. "You've come to protect us old farmhands in Kendra Province, hmm?"

She smiled as she crossed the rows to greet him properly. "I don't think any of you need any help from me in that regard," she commented. "You were protecting yourselves and this land long before I was here."

"For all the good that did us," he muttered. "I lost two brothers and a leg in this very valley."

Unwillingly, she glanced down at his poorly-fitted prosthesis. "Why do you still have that old thing, Mikai?" she asked softly. "I can get you a better leg."

He waved that aside, the sorrow on his features the moment before gone. "This 'old thing' has served me just fine for over forty years, Larina. When it gives me pains at the end of the day, I just thank the Prophets that it was only my leg that was lost, and I ask for their continued protection in the Celestial Temple of those who were not so fortunate. I fear that if I didn't have that pain, I would get old and lazy and forget about the sacrifice of those who gave their lives for Bajor. If you do not understand that, ask your father to explain it. He was there that day."

"I understand it well enough," she replied, her voice low.

His features softened. "Yes, I suppose you do. I keep forgetting that you are not so little and sheltered anymore, just as I forget sometimes that there is another war going on out there."

"Sometimes, I wish I could forget."

He wrapped her in a large hug. "I'm sorry, Larina. You should not be listening to the ramblings of an old man musing about another time. For as long as you are here for the next few days, I want you to forget about the war and your responsibilities with the Militia. Can you do that for me?"

She gave a short, sarcastic laugh. "I will try, Mikai, but I will not be making any promises. It has been almost forty years since you returned to Kendra, but you still remember."

"I live here with the pain of my past and the memories of my battles. Your pain doesn't belong here. Millions of Bajorans fought and risked their lives on this planet so that you would not have to live as we did."

"I know," she said. "My father was one of them, and now I fight and risk my life so that someday we will have a generation who doesn't know what it's like to patrol space for any sign of Nygleian activity. Sometimes, Mikai, I'm afraid we haven't made as much progress as we seem to think we have."

"There will always be bad people out there, Larina. All that we can hope is that we will always have good people to stop them. People like you."

She smiled thinly. "On Earth, there lived a philosopher more than six hundred years ago who said, 'The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.'"

"Maybe those humans aren't as primitive as some of our fellow Bajorans like to think they are," Yom said with a playful wink. He and his wife were two of the only people to know that Bhan had applied to, and been rejected from, Starfleet Academy.

"I should hope not," Bhan replied with a sigh. "My next assignment is aboard a Federation vessel."

He raised his eyebrows. "You will have to tell me all about this assignment, but some other time. I'm sure your father is expecting you."

"He's at the house?"

Yom nodded. "He has been since he returned from morning service. According to the farm's gossip, he's been working on a hasperat."

She barely resisted the urge to groan. She loved hasperat, especially the extra-spicy blend her father prepared, but she knew he wouldn't be putting that much effort into it just for her. "He's preparing a dinner party, isn't he?"

"He has a lot to be proud of. His daughter is home."

This time she did snort in disbelief. "Right," she said softly. It seemed for as long as she could remember, she had been working her hardest to earn her father's love and acceptance, and with her recent successes with Kejal Company, it finally looked like that was happening. She only wished he could love and accept the person, not just the accomplishments.

Instead of vocalizing those grievances to her father's old friend and former fellow resistance fighter, she only smiled thinly and gave him a quick hug, voicing vague promises to come out in the field and get him caught up on her life and the happenings of the Militia before she headed back for Tempasa. After waving her goodbyes to Quana and the other farmhands she knew, she headed up the path to her childhood home.