Read Star Trek: Terok Nor 02: Night of the Wolves for Free Online
Authors: S.D. Perry
market day after the soldiers came, and they wouldn’t even sell me a drink of water. I should have expected as much. They say they believe the Word, but when Drade stopped farming, when he openly shunned his Fate, they all looked the other way. Someone had to stop him, that’s all. “
His mouth pinched even tighter. “Never thought they’d do what they did to me, though.”
Natima nodded along, trying to appear empathetic. It was a common story. Even after all this time, the Bajorans ostracized, harassed, even threatened “collaborators.” Thill was at the military base because a week after he’d informed on Mesto, someone had tried to burn his house down, with him inside of it. He’d come to the base for protection. Usually informants weren’t offered any kind of shelter, but the station commander had personally benefited from the seizure of the warp reactor and explosives; he’d granted Thill a temporary sanctuary.
Not that he deserves it, she thought. Thill hadn’t been trying to help the Union, turning in a plotting terrorist; it was all some petty revenge, over hurt feelings and ridiculous cultural tenets. Still, she’d get nothing further from him by sharing her thoughts on the matter.
“It’s…commendable, that you chose to see Mesto Drade brought to justice,” Natima said, glancing down at her notes. “His name has been on a list of people with possible ties to the terrorists for some time, but his priority status was low. As I said, your decision undoubtedly saved lives…”
She waited for him to pick up, to detail his story, but he only stared at her, his lined, hard face as still as stone. She resisted looking at her chrono, aware that the first meeting of the Rakantha base commanders would soon begin, if it hadn’t already. It was being held in the base’s main building, behind the barracks. Her feature on “helpful” Bajorans wasn’t due for another week, but she’d be up late tonight, filtering footage from the conference. There would be material for the civilian net on Cardassia, sound bites for the propaganda channels, other strings that would be sent to high-ranking members of Central Command; best she be there to record it.
Wrap this up, then . She’d get no help from Thill, but she had more than enough footage of Kubus Oak, droning on about brotherhood between the races. She’d cobble something together from the other interviews.
“Well. I appreciate your agreeing to meet with me, Mr. Thill…”
There was a sudden, heavy rumbling sound, stilling her words. Natima recognized the sound instantly; she’d spent long hours watching feeds of terrorist attacks. An instant later, they heard shouts, heard the keening whine of phaser fire. The garresh who’d taken her to meet Thill had snapped to attention, was talking low and fast into his comm. Natima and Thill both stood, the Bajoran’s long face and darting gaze giving his fear away.
The conference . The base had been attacked, was perhaps still under attack. The explosion had come from behind the barracks, she was sure of it. Natima scooped up her recorder, turned to the door. She was too excited to be afraid, thinking of the footage she might be able to capture. The garresh stepped in front of her, physically blocking her way.
“We’ll stay here until we get the all clear,” he said sharply.
“I’m a reporter and qualified filter for the CIS,” Natima said, meeting his tone. “And I’m aware of the risks. I could—”
“You could die, Miss,” he said. “I’m assigned to keep you from harm, and my orders stand. You’re not going anywhere.”
“What if they come for me?” Thill said, his voice high, his eyes moving, moving.
The garresh sneered at him. “Then we’ll let them have you, Bajoran.”
Thill sat down again with a low moan of terror. Natima glared at the soldier, frustrated, aware that if she’d been a man, he would have let her go.
If I were a man, I wouldn’t have an escort in the
His mouth pinched even tighter. “Never thought they’d do what they did to me, though.”
Natima nodded along, trying to appear empathetic. It was a common story. Even after all this time, the Bajorans ostracized, harassed, even threatened “collaborators.” Thill was at the military base because a week after he’d informed on Mesto, someone had tried to burn his house down, with him inside of it. He’d come to the base for protection. Usually informants weren’t offered any kind of shelter, but the station commander had personally benefited from the seizure of the warp reactor and explosives; he’d granted Thill a temporary sanctuary.
Not that he deserves it, she thought. Thill hadn’t been trying to help the Union, turning in a plotting terrorist; it was all some petty revenge, over hurt feelings and ridiculous cultural tenets. Still, she’d get nothing further from him by sharing her thoughts on the matter.
“It’s…commendable, that you chose to see Mesto Drade brought to justice,” Natima said, glancing down at her notes. “His name has been on a list of people with possible ties to the terrorists for some time, but his priority status was low. As I said, your decision undoubtedly saved lives…”
She waited for him to pick up, to detail his story, but he only stared at her, his lined, hard face as still as stone. She resisted looking at her chrono, aware that the first meeting of the Rakantha base commanders would soon begin, if it hadn’t already. It was being held in the base’s main building, behind the barracks. Her feature on “helpful” Bajorans wasn’t due for another week, but she’d be up late tonight, filtering footage from the conference. There would be material for the civilian net on Cardassia, sound bites for the propaganda channels, other strings that would be sent to high-ranking members of Central Command; best she be there to record it.
Wrap this up, then . She’d get no help from Thill, but she had more than enough footage of Kubus Oak, droning on about brotherhood between the races. She’d cobble something together from the other interviews.
“Well. I appreciate your agreeing to meet with me, Mr. Thill…”
There was a sudden, heavy rumbling sound, stilling her words. Natima recognized the sound instantly; she’d spent long hours watching feeds of terrorist attacks. An instant later, they heard shouts, heard the keening whine of phaser fire. The garresh who’d taken her to meet Thill had snapped to attention, was talking low and fast into his comm. Natima and Thill both stood, the Bajoran’s long face and darting gaze giving his fear away.
The conference . The base had been attacked, was perhaps still under attack. The explosion had come from behind the barracks, she was sure of it. Natima scooped up her recorder, turned to the door. She was too excited to be afraid, thinking of the footage she might be able to capture. The garresh stepped in front of her, physically blocking her way.
“We’ll stay here until we get the all clear,” he said sharply.
“I’m a reporter and qualified filter for the CIS,” Natima said, meeting his tone. “And I’m aware of the risks. I could—”
“You could die, Miss,” he said. “I’m assigned to keep you from harm, and my orders stand. You’re not going anywhere.”
“What if they come for me?” Thill said, his voice high, his eyes moving, moving.
The garresh sneered at him. “Then we’ll let them have you, Bajoran.”
Thill sat down again with a low moan of terror. Natima glared at the soldier, frustrated, aware that if she’d been a man, he would have let her go.
If I were a man, I wouldn’t have an escort in the