Chapter Text
A short flight later, they were at the closest Starfleet base, just a small complex in an office building, distinguished from its neighbors only by a Starfleet banner outside its door. The people inside were in a furor over their disappearance. The three of them were noticed as soon as they walked in the door.
“Lieutenant! Ensign!” A harried Human lieutenant commander in Security gold rushed over to them. “Are you all right? What happened?” He frowned at Bekar. “Who are you?”
A Bajoran lieutenant brought a tricorder over, running it over all three of them. “It’s definitely them. They’ll need medical treatment, but nothing serious.”
“We were kidnapped after the concert by unknown persons,” Soval said. “They left us in a cave that was a former Resistance base. They believed that this man, Bekar, might be able to sway Ensign Tora to their cause, as the two grew up in the same labor camp. Ensign Tora was able to convince Bekar of the foolishness of the group’s actions; she is to be commended for her clear-headed debate skills in a difficult and dangerous situation. Bekar agreed to release us on the condition that he will not reveal the identities of anyone else involved in the kidnapping, provided that his alibi during the attack itself can be substantiated. We flew here, as you see.” It was a remarkably concise explanation for a long and tiring day.
The lieutenant commander stared briefly at Soval, blinking. “Thank you, Lieutenant, that was a clear and concise briefing.” He turned to Manar. “Well done, Ensign. I’m sure that Lieutenant Soval will be writing up a commendation for your actions, and I will be happy to endorse it.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said, too tired to be proud.
“Lieutenant Kubus, please escort Bekar to the holding era and check out his alibi,” the commander said. He smiled at Manar. “I’ll escort the two of you to our infirmary, and they can check you over while I call off the search.”
He headed off into the small office and Manar relaxed, glad someone else was taking care of it. Being stunned wasn’t a substitute for a good night’s sleep, and now that the adrenaline was wearing off, she was so tired. She found herself drifting off as she sat on the biobed, the noise of the tricorder and other medical equipment forming a soothing background hum.
“Ensign. Ensign Tora,” the Doctor said.
She roused herself to full wakefulness. “Sorry,” she said.
“You appear to be fine,” he said. He was a Bajoran, which was a comfort; she wasn’t quite used to doctors examining her who weren’t even the same species. No matter how good their xenobiology credentials, Manar preferred a doctor who really understood the way Bajoran bodies worked. “Bumps and bruises, mainly. No signs of brainwashing, and they didn’t have you long enough to do anything fancy. I’m prescribing two days of medical leave, just to give you some time to process what happened. Starfleet is really big on medical leave. I’m sure you’d prefer to take that here on Bajor.”
“Oh, definitely,” Manar said, pleased at the generosity. “I’m actually on leave now; can I add the medical leave to my remaining shore leave?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m not used to Starfleet policies yet. Don’t forget to turn in a preliminary report before you leave.”
“Thanks,” Manar said. Giving a preliminary deposition took surprisingly little time: she gave a verbal report, which the computer transcribed. There would be more questions later, but that was enough for now. She saved her report left to find someone who might know how much leave time she had.
“Yes,” Soval said. “In fact, the time spent during our abduction and debriefing gets subtracted from the original leave, as well. Therefore, you receive additional hours of leave to compensate for the hours between the end of the concert and when you were released from medical care. You therefore have three days total leave remaining.”
“That’s great,” Manar said. Starfleet was generous; but then, she supposed it was large enough it could afford to be. “Were you planning on going back to the station or going home with me?”
“I will be returning directly to the station,” Soval said. “I wish to begin composing again, and all my instruments are there.”
It was gracefully done, but Manar wondered how much of it was a desire to spend as little time on Bajor as possible. “Good luck with that,” she said. “I’ll send you Kaval’s number.”
“Thank you,” Soval said.
“Well, see you back on DS9 in a few days,” Manar said.
Soval nodded. “Good-bye, Ensign.”
Manar turned and left, heading for the transporter room. She could not wait to be home.
A day later Manar sat in the garden behind her family home, preparing vegetables for supper and admiring the beauty of the hills. It was a mindless task, for which Manar was grateful. She was busy, and useful, and could mainly work on autopilot. The familiar motions were soothing. In the camps as a child, the Cardassian rations were never very good or quite enough, and so everyone tried to supplement them with what fruits and vegetables they could gather or grow. Food had still been scarce the first few years after the Occupation; the Cardassians were no longer there to take the best produce for themselves, but they were no longer there to give out ration bars, either.
The camps had been a horrible place to grow up. But at least the problems then were simpler. Manar wondered what Bekar would think if he could see her now.
Her mother came up from the fields, dusty and sweaty from a day’s work and sat beside her to help with the work, stealing the occasional bite. She was quiet, which made Manar uneasy; her mother was usually a vocal woman.
“Grandmother doesn’t think they’ll be able to get the stains out,” Manar said at last. “I’m so sorry.”
Her mother shrugged. “It wasn’t your fault, Manar, it was that boy’s. I thought about calling his family and giving them a piece of my mind, but then I checked and found they were all gone now but a few cousins.”
Manar sighed. She hadn’t heard from Lusanis after she and her family were moved to a different camp. Manar was sorry to hear her family was gone—she should look her up, see if Lusanis herself was alive. “Starfleet’s pretty sure Bekar was telling the truth about not being involved in the kidnapping. They think it was a spur-of-the-moment thing, based on a target of opportunity. They’re looking further, to find the culprits, but unless they find something drastically different they’re going to honor Soval’s promise. Bekar’s already been released.”
“Good,” her mother said. “He’s a very young man who did a stupid thing, but with the Prophet’s grace managed to recognize it and fix it. Hopefully, he’ll learn sense.”
“We can only hope.”
They fell back into silence, then, shelling and sorting. “I was very worried, when you didn’t come home,” Mom said.
“I’m sorry.” Manar smiled at her. “If it was up to me, I would have been back on time.”
Her mother smiled back. “I know. It’s just … you know I support you in your career, and I am so proud of you for going back to school. But when you were in the Militia, if anything were to happen to you I would know soon and be able to come when you needed me. Now that you’re in Starfleet, what happens if you’re hurt while exploring deep space? How soon would they tell us? And even if we were notified right away, what good would it do? We’ll be here, and you’ll be … the Prophets only know where you’ll be.”
“Mother—”
Mom shook her head. “No, I know, it’s a good career move and you’ll have lots of interesting and exciting adventures, and it’s what you want. I’m glad you have the opportunity. Just … promise me you’ll be careful, out there.”
Manar reached over and took her hand. “I will, Mom,” she said, throat tightening. “I will.”
Brendan was there waiting for her at the airlock as she disembarked from the runabout. “Look who’s back! What a mess, huh? Guess you need a vacation to recover from the vacation.”
Manar laughed and nudged his arm. “They already gave me that, medical leave to ‘recover from my ordeal.’”
He took one of her bags, and they started walking down the corridor towards her quarters.
“Actually, aside from being kidnapped, it was actually a pretty good vacation,” Manar said. “I had a wonderful time with my family, and the concert was even better than I’d hoped.”
“Yeah, aside from the little detail of being kidnapped,” Brendan said, snickering.
“Well, it’s not like anyone was actually hurt. It was uncomfortable, and frightening, but no harm was done in the long run.” Manar shook her head. “Although, I have to say it was a little embarrassing that both my family and the Separationist kidnapper thought Soval and I are having a love affair.”
“Really?” Brendan shook his head. “Huh. Go figure. I mean, yeah, you’re friendly, but Vulcans can get really obsessive about their mates, so I think we’d be able to tell something was up with Soval. Not to mention he’s really by-the-book and one of you would have transferred to another shift. Also, I’d like to think you’d tell your partner if you had a lover.”
“All true,” Manar said.
“Oh, hey, I almost forgot,” Brendan said. “The Dlaspu made an unexpected stop here at the station—she’s a science vessel that was mothballed for the duration of the Dominion War, and she’s just getting back into service now. Anyway, they had a few away teams attacked by animals on a planetary survey, and so they’ve got some holes in their security department to fill.” He handed her a PADD.
Manar took it and scanned the information. “I’m being transferred?”
“Short notice, but I hear it’s a good ship. And science vessels often have really interesting away team missions, so that should be fun. Plus, I bet you’re eager to get away from all the nutcases here, after what happened—”
“Brendan, shut up,” Manar said, angrily. “This is my home. These are my people. You do not get to talk about them that way.”
“But they kidnapped you,” Brendan said in surprise. “And they have all these conspiracy theories about how the Evil Federation is going to come in and take over just like the Cardassians did.”
“You have no right to talk,” Manar said. “When you’ve been through what we have, then you have a right to an opinion. Yeah, Bekar was wrong. And stupid. And it could have turned out really badly. But he grew up—we both grew up in conditions you can’t even imagine. And before I joined Starfleet, the only aliens I’d seen in person were invaders, Cardassians and Jem’Hadar. When the recruiters for transferring came through, all I knew about the Federation was that it was big, and powerful, and arrogant. And for a really long time, anything on Bajor that seemed too good to be true generally was. Things are changing, now, and by and large they’re changing for the better. But when you’re used to everything going wrong, it’s hard to believe things can ever go right. You don’t get to judge us because we’re not as shiny and pretty as you.”
She could see Brendan’s face go from angry to the uncomfortable look he got when she talked about her childhood. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “And you don’t get to pity us, either.”
He grimaced. “Sorry.”
“Apology accepted,” she said, though she wasn’t sure he understood. “Now, can you tell me a bit about the Dlaspu? What’s it like on a science ship?”
“Well, science ships get a lot of variety,” Brendan said, hesitantly. He regained his confidence as he went on. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard. I only joined up during the war, myself, you know.”
“I know,” Manar said. “You’ve still been in Starfleet longer than I have.”
Brendan nodded. “I think science vessels are the best assignment for security. Patrol ships just go from here to there in peacetime, and on diplomatic vessels you end up standing guard at boring conferences. Science vessels, now, you get lots of variety, lots of different planets to explore, and they always need security on the landing parties in case something goes wrong. So it’s interesting, but dedicated science vessels are the second wave of exploration, behind the heavy cruisers that go out on five-year missions. So a science vessel gets shorter missions, and the heavy cruisers have already faced the worst of the hazards, so it’s safer all around.”
“My mother will be happy,” Manar said.
Brendan laughed. “Let’s hope you are, too.”
Three months later, Manar had settled in to her new posting and found that she was indeed very happy with it. The work was much more interesting than walking around Deep Space Nine on endless patrols. She had only two regrets, she thought, as she wandered home from dinner at the crew lounge after her shift. Although she was making friends, it was a bit lonely being in a place where no one else spoke her language, and she missed her family. But at least for now, the excitement of travelling to new places more than made up for it.
This week had been fairly routine, but last week—the sunset on Argulia III had been magnificent, even viewed through the shuttlecraft’s screen. No Class M planet could produce clouds of such color and texture. She’d sent pictures home, and grandmother had accused her of altering them to make it more dramatic. But she’d also hung a large copy of one of them in her workroom for inspiration.
As Manar entered her room, she noticed her comm console had a blinking light in one corner. “Computer, play message,” she said, unfastening her uniform tunic and pulling it off.
Soval appeared on the viewscreen. “Greetings, Manar,” he said. He was not in uniform, but rather in a severely tailored brown tunic with Vulcan sigils down one side of the breast. It was only the second message he had sent since she was reassigned. “Thank you for the images of Argulia III. It is an atypical example of a Class L planet, and the cloud formations are aesthetically pleasing. I have recently completed the first piece I have composed since my wife’s death. I believe it to be a relatively minor work; but I could not have composed it without your invitation to Kaval Roana’s concert. Accordingly, with your permission I wish to dedicate it to you and to her. A recording is attached. Please notify me if this is acceptable.”
Manar smiled. How flattering. She continued changing into something more comfortable to spend the remainder of her evening in.
On the viewscreen, Soval continued. “Although the kidnapping was unpleasant for all, the concert itself was more than worth such a consequence to me. I thank you once more for the invitation. As you no doubt know more about the political situation on Bajor than I do, I will only note that tensions between the Separationists and the Federation continue to affect security arrangements here on the station.” He paused, tilting his head. “It is gratifying to hear that your studies continue in your new posting. It is also gratifying that your time of study with me was helpful and that you have not needed to find a new tutor. Starfleet Academy has taken our work together and adapted it to be used with Bajoran transfer officers more generally, as we had hoped.
“My minimum commitment to Starfleet will come due in 2.8 months. At that time, I will resign my commission and return to Vulcan. If you wish to maintain our correspondence, I have attached my civilian contact information.
“Live long and prosper, Manar. Soval out.”
“Computer, play attached recording.” Manar closed her eyes and listened as the sound of strings filled her cabin. A tenor voice—Soval’s, she realized—sang over the top of them. Like the other piece of his she’d listened to, Manar didn’t really care for it; it was too alien. Still, she was glad Soval was composing again.
When it was done, Manar smiled. She’d reply in the morning, she thought. Now, it was time for her evening devotions. She crossed the room to the small shrine she’d set up against one wall and lit the candles. It was nice to have a cabin to herself, and not have to worry about being disturbed. Manar knelt before the shrine and closed her eyes for a few moments to clear her mind. She raised her arms, elbows out to the side parallel to the floor, forearms raised above them, palms facing the mandala. She opened her eyes, and began to pray.
