“This message is not just for the resistance, Apren,”Keeve said. “Everyone must know of this. The Prophets have given us the opportunity we need, but we must show them that we are capable of defending our world ourselves—”
Kalem interrupted as the thought entered his mind. “Weapons, Falor.”
“Weapons?”
“We need weapons. Does Holza know of this new development?”
“Not yet, but I will—”
“You should have contacted him first, Falor!”
“I had to be sure that you wouldn’t agree to anything!”
“Falor, you should have known that I wouldn’t have. Tell Jas Holza about this immediately!”
“I will do my best to get word to him, but we can’t wait for him to come through, Apren! There must be no delays in communicating this message to the people of Bajor!”
“I understand,” Kalem answered, though he wasn’t sure he did. He wanted to know more about the Federation contact, about the sudden change in climate that would make a full-scale victory a tangible possibility; about the true nature of the offers that Dukat was trying to make. But from Keeve’s tone, it was clear that this was not the time to ask questions—this was the time to act.
“What is this place?” Tahna Los asked Biran as they crept closer to the low-lying building, several kellipates outside of Dahkur. It was old and poorly kept, with a deserted feel. “An armory?”
Kohn Biran shook his head. “I think we’ve managed to get all the armories around here. Between us, the Shakaar, and the Gertis cells, we’ve practically crippled the spoonheads in this region.”
“So, what is it?”
Biran looked stern. “Don’t tell anyone in the Shakaar cell. It’s an orphanage.”
“We’re bombing an orphanage?” Tahna didn’t mean for his voice to sound so incredulous, and he cleared his throat, glancing uncomfortably at Jouvirna. “I mean—”
“Baby vipers are still poisonous,” Biran said. “Remember what I said about the Shakaar. Especially the women.”
“Nerys probably wouldn’t have a problem with it,” Tahna said, though he wasn’t certain. “But Lupaza…”
“Don’t worry about them. We need to do this—to send a message.”
It had been six weeks since the announcements. They had heard the news repeated from the Krim cell in Rakantha, the Carean cell from Ba’atal, the Gertis cell, and many others that Tahna couldn’t even name. Jaro Essa was saying that this was the time to push harder than they had ever pushed, if they wanted to be free of the Cardassians. And they were pushing. Tahna knew that there was still heavy Cardassian presence in other parts of the world, but at least they had made headway here in Dahkur. The Kohn-Ma cell had only encountered a single Cardassian soldier tonight, angry and clearly frightened. Most of what they had encountered had been wreckage—bodies, shrapnel, burning ships and equipment. All lent an apocalyptic desolation to the once-beautiful landscape.
“So, we’re going to kill them,” Tahna said, laboring to avoid sounding grim as he studied the pathetic building.
Jouvirna shrugged. “We could blow them up, or we could take them hostage—use them as bargaining chips to get farther into the city, should we meet with a sizeable contingent of soldiers. But probably, the spoonheads wouldn’t respond to hostages—they don’t care about the orphans. We’re doing them a favor by killing them, if you ask me.”
Tahna wasn’t so sure—and anyway, he thought it might be useful to have some leverage in case of Cardassian encounter. He hadn’t forgotten the beatings he had suffered at the hands of his Cardassian captors, the horrible devices they had used in their efforts to coerce him to reveal the location of the rest of his cell. But the memory wasn’t enough to dissuade him from continuing to fight. If anything, it fueled him, especially now that he believed the end was so near. Yet, there seemed to be little glory in carrying through with this particular target.
Tahna kept his views to himself as they moved in. The building was only a hecapate away, but before they could come close enough to detonate their explosives, a white sheet of blinding fire rose up from beyond the gates of the facility. Tahna threw his body backward to avoid the fallout of shrapnel, and the blast of heat washed over them. But after a moment, he saw that they had been far enough away to avoid contact with any flying debris. He sheepishly rose.
“Someone beat us to it,” Jouvirna said, his voice tinged with awe.
“Someone else blew up the orphanage,” Tahna said, stating the obvious, finding some measure of relief in the revelation. This wasn’t the first time his cell had conspired to kill Cardassian children, or even the children of Bajoran collaborators. He found some reassurance in the discovery that other cells were capable of such an act.
Shouting had followed the explosion—shouts of Bajoran men, at least two of whom seemed to be headed in Tahna’s direction. A beat later, a middle-aged man stepped out of the smoke, approaching Tahna and the others.
“Ho there,” Tahna called. The man wore the garb of a farmer, dun-colored coveralls that were permanently grassy-green at the knees from kneeling for the harvest. As he came closer, Tahna saw that he was missing three teeth on the left side of his mouth, probably a result of poor nutrition. “What cell are you?”
“Cell?” The man called out. “None! We live in Petrita village, that way.” He gestured to the east as a second man joined him. “We have been planning to destroy this site for over a week. It’s the only place around here the spoonheads haven’t abandoned.”
“Are you sure?” Biran called out.
“Positive,” answered the second man. He wore a stained leather vest over his tunic. “We’ve been scoping out all the local Cardassian sites. The only place they had anyone left was here at the orphanage. But don’t worry, the children were all gone.”
“Gone?” Biran said. “But the Cardassians don’t claim the children of others…?”
“The young ones were taken in by Bajoran families,” he said. “They’re too little to know any different. If they’re lucky, they can just forget they were ever Cardassian.”
“The young ones?” Tahna asked. “So…who was left?”
“There were three teenage boys in there who fancied themselves heroes,” the farmer said. “They barricaded themselves inside and started taking potshots at us when we came near, though I couldn’t tell you where they got their weapons—probably stolen from dead bodies around here somewhere. We figured we’d have to bomb them out—and so we did.” He gestured back to the smoking rubble that had been the squat building as the other man raised his fist in victory.
Tahna felt strange as he considered the Cardassian teenagers. Abandoned here on an unfamiliar world, fighting for the very people who had left them behind. He briefly wished he hadn’t asked. It was easier just to look on the remains of a building and feel triumphant.
“Are you all right, mister?” One of the farmers directed his question toward Tahna, who realized that he must be wearing his uncertainty. He forced a laugh, just before the bulky comm unit he carried alerted him with a squawk.
“This is six-one-six calling kejal-three-two…”It was Kira, back at the caves.
“This is kejalthree-two, six-one-six, go ahead.”
“Kejal three-two, reports of attack ships sighted in the Musilla region, headed toward Dahkur Province, estimated arrival one half-hour. Best to take cover, over.”
Tahna’s heart sank. “Copy that,” he responded, looking to the others in his cell. Judging by their grave expressions, they had all heard it. The two farmers had heard it, as well, and did not hesitate to scurry back in the direction from which they had come.
“Helpful chaps,” Biran remarked sourly.
“More spoonheads,” Tahna lamented. “We had them all but wiped out in this province…”
“Forget it, Tahna, we’ve got to go,” Jouvirna said, gesturing to the others as he broke into a jog. “We’ve got just enough time to make it back to the tunnels.”