“From what I’ve seen, Cardassians have different physiology than Bajorans,” he said. “Your bone structure, your internal organs—I’m not sure—”

“Is she going to be all right?” Natima knew he was no doctor, but the Bajoran had proven resourceful, and there was no one else.

Seefa listened for a second more, putting a finger to her lips. “Her breathing is very shallow. If one of her lungs was damaged…”

“What can we do?”

Seefa shook his head, started to answer—and then the high, whistling gasps ceased.

Natima was desperate with fear and horror. “Veja! Veja!”

Seefa leaned over her, pinched her nostrils closed and began blowing air directly into her mouth. Natima watched him helplessly, her panic building to levels she could not tolerate. She finally gave in, sobbing, too exhausted to resist anymore. She watched Seefa for a few minutes that seemed like an eternity, knowing that he was doing all that he could do, but that it probably wouldn’t be enough.

They were so focused on Veja, neither of them turned at the rumble of falling rock, back by their dig. It wasn’t until white light, strong, unwavering daylight, shafted into the tunnel that Natima realized what was happening.

Oh, thank you, thank you!

Seefa spared her a nod, went back to what he was doing, pushing air into Veja’s struggling lungs. Natima stumbled to her feet, ran for the new opening, hearing a voice now, hearing a man—Damar?—shouting something—

—and then another section of the tunnel was falling, dirt and dust and rock raining down, and Natima realized she was too close. She stumbled back, tripped, fell badly—and felt a sharp pain at the base of her skull as it connected with a rock.

She felt as though she were spinning, spinning away from herself. More of the ceiling had come away, but her vision was blurred and she could see only a ragged patch of whiteness that hurt her eyes. She tried to sit up, but a jarring, nauseating purple-tinged darkness washed over her. She felt sticky warmth seeping from where she’d hit her head.

Stay awake, stay awake—Veja—

Voices were coming from somewhere, men’s voices. Shouting, Cardassian voices. More rubble falling down? Another shout. She flickered back to that boy, that boy who wanted her piece of bread. You can’t have it!She clutched it as tightly as she could and a wash of brilliant red flared behind her closed eyes—a weapon’s fire—and she remembered where she was, what had happened.

“Leave his body here,” said the voice. “I’ll carry Veja out, you take the other one.”

Damar.

“He was trying to help us,” she said, but only a struggling whimper emerged and it was too late, and the blackness that lurked around the edges finally closed in, bleeding her reality into dark. Natima slept.

After a silent and mostly uneventful journey back to Bajor, Halpas took the carrier back to the base of the protective kelbonite foothills. Taryl had rigged up a surface signal mask before they’d left to cover their takeoff and return, but they also got lucky; their flight was unchallenged, their set-down as quiet as the remnants of their crew. Nobody was speaking, least of all Taryl, who seemed to have been stricken into a state of crippling grief at the acceptance that her brother was beyond her reach.

They headed back for the village, and had just reached the first dwelling when they were approached by Ornathia Harta. “Lenaris! Taryl!” she shouted. “We have to leave! I’m the only one left, and—”

“Calm down, Harta,” Lenaris said. He looked around, saw no one else about. The ramshackle buildings seemed deserted. “What’s going on?”

“We hacked into Cardassian comms this morning,” she explained, her voice edged with anxiety. “We were able to confirm it—the spoonheads know about the balon! They’re going to come looking for us. Our ships won’t be safe for much longer.”

“What about Lac?” Taryl said urgently. “Did you learn anything about him?”

“Taryl—” Lenaris began, but she ignored him.

Harta looked at her with haunted eyes. “There was a report we found…the prisoners on Pullock V were all executed yesterday. I’m so sorry, Taryl…but we can’t think about it now, we all have to get out of here.”

Taryl did not reply, she only buried her face in her hands and wept. Lenaris felt helpless as he placed a hand on her shoulder, knowing that it had no effect.

“Well, that’s that,” said Legan Duravit. “We’ll take a ship and go, I suppose.”

“The ships are all gone,” Harta said, suddenly sounding defensive. “All but one, and that’s mine. I only stayed behind to let you know what was going on.”

Duravit looked incensed. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, Harta. We all worked on those ships, and they’re as much ours as they are yours.”

“It’s everyone for themselves,” Harta said stubbornly. “You have the raiders on the carrier, you can use those—unless you want to come with me. And I’ve told you what you needed to know, so I’m leaving—now.” She looked genuinely sorry for a moment, and then she turned to go.

“How do you like that?” Legan Fin exclaimed, looking as though he wasn’t sure whether he should stay or follow her.

“Let her go,” Duravit told his brother.

“Well,” Sten said, “I guess we’d better do as she says. I’m going to get a few things together, and then we’d better figure out where we’re going, and how we’re going to get there.”

“There are still three raiders in the bay of the carrier,” Lenaris said.

“My ship is still hidden in the rocks, if your cell hasn’t taken it, too,” Halpas added. “Though it doesn’t run on balon, so I can’t just park it anywhere.”

“The balon ships might put us in more danger than your ship would at this point,” Fin said.

“We’ll have to find another fuel source,” Taryl said, her voice dull.

“If anyone can do it, Taryl…” Lenaris said, trying to be helpful, but her expression suggested that she wasn’t ready to accept anyone’s optimism.

“We can go to Relliketh,” Halpas said.

Lenaris looked at Taryl, hoping that she would agree to it, but she made no indication either way.

“Relliketh’s as good as anywhere,” Duravit said.

“I’d rather go home to my family’s farm,” Sten said. “I should tell Crea’s mother that…what happened.”

No one was making eye contact. It suddenly hit Lenaris, though it should have been obvious after what Harta had said, that the Ornathia cell was truly dissolving—just as the Halpas cell had done.

“Well,” Lenaris said, his voice tight and disappointed, “maybe for now…before we all decide what to do…we could just make camp back by the carrier, away from the balon. The kelbonite should keep the spoonheads away from us, and from the shuttles, with or without balon.”

“Fine,” Fin said, and the others seemed to agree with him as well, though Taryl was still quiet.

Sten and the Legans went back to their cottages to retrieve a few things, but Taryl didn’t move, her posture slumped and defeated. “Taryl,” Lenaris tried, but she would not look at him. He finally gave up trying to reach her, and headed back to his own cottage to fetch a bedroll and a few other effects he might need to make camp for the night.

Natima rubbed the back of her head where the wound had healed. The dermal regenerator had made short work of the gash, but the hair on the back of her head was still stubble where the medic had shaved it to better access the wound. She had applied a special cellular treatment to stimulate the follicles and fill in the short patch, not sure why she cared at all, after what had happened…But she wanted to grasp on to some semblance of normality, even if it was only to look like her old self.

Veja had not been quite so fortunate. The medic felt reasonably certain she would make an almost-full recovery with no permanent neural damage, probably thanks to the breathing Seefa had done for her. But her internal injuries had been extensive, and the doctor had confirmed what every Cardassian woman feared more than death—Veja would never carry a child to term. She didn’t even know yet; she had been heavily medicated since their return to Tozhat.