So I have some time on my hands- that and I'm procrastinating sorting out my room before we move away *cough*- and I thought I'd give Teki a more indepth backstory. And it's something to read for those of you who also have time on your hands and nothing better to do. Amateur stuff, I'm afraid, but hey, I'm an amateur writer and need the practice. Starts dark but gets better. Here goes.
In the darkened room of the infirmary, a young Cardassian woman breathed heavily, wracked with pain and grief. A sob shook through her, and her husband tightened his grip on her cold hand.
"It's late, Lorik," she gasped between breaths. "You should rest-"
"I'm going nowhere," Lorik told her firmly. He could scarcely see her through the encroaching gloom. The berth-light pained her tired eyes, and so he strained his to continue ceaselessly gazing at her. He felt, more than saw, her face crease up, and caught a glimpse of light caught in a tear as it broke from her eye. "Luil?"
"What about the boy?" she wept. The sterile cot that was home to the child was situated across the room, so close that they would be able to hear him breathe if only he could do so himself. "Why?" she suddenly spat. "Why can't I be here for him? I should be here!"
"Luil," Lorik whispered. He said nothing else, but gently stroked the back of her hand.
After she had settled a bit, Luil went on, choking out the words. "The doctors aren't giving me straight answers. Tell me what will happen to him."
Lorik blinked a few times and shifted closer, but couldn't see his wife anymore clearly. Watching the place where he knew her face was, he could only think of how he couldn't bear to break her heart anymore. "He will live."
"No." She shook her head, further disorientating her mind. "That's more than I could hope for. We both know you can't know that for certain, Lorik?" She sighed. A few tears dribbled down her cheek and into the corner of her mouth. "I don't want your last words to me to be a lie."
Lorik's furrowed eyebrows suddenly slid apart from each other, and his mouth slackened. "We don't know, Luil," he told her hoarsely. "He's just so small."
A fresh bout of tears convulsed her body, and Lorik clung all the tighter to her hand. "I'm so sorry," she moaned wretchedly.
"It's not your fault."
In the all-enveloping night, the swift darkness stole away their sight. Lorik reached out and rested his hand against his wife's face, and felt the tears, and the coldness, and the dying strength. She clasped her own hand over his, and thus they remained until a watery dawn broke, when he awoke to find her hand had fallen limp against the pillow, and the tears were plastered dry on her face, and her skin was so cold.
_________________
Warrant Officer Tekel Orsad
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer (to be)
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
When I was a kid I claimed that all the warring worlds should set aside their differences and bloody well get along. That argument still stands, only now it needs a cane.
The Fault of Fate
Moderators: Tournneau, Korath, Kersare
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Former Member
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The Fault of Fate
Last edited by Former Member on Tue Dec 20, 2005 12:23 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Former Member
- Posts: 169
- Joined: Mon Dec 19, 2005 11:48 pm
"Poor man. He could be about to lose everything."
"They're doing all they can for the baby. It's out of our hands now."
"Makes you think, doesn't it? Under different circumstances, this could've been the start of a big family. Now he might just walk away alone."
"He may be a father yet."
The voices might have been muffled by the door of the guest quarters, but they reached Lorik on his journey back to the waking world, and echoed his thoughts quite accurately. Stifled by the sheer depression of it all, he fumbled back the sheets and woozily hauled himself out of his bunk. The room was still so dark; understandably so, as visitors mostly came here to sleep. At present there was only one other occupant, who appeared to be dozing in one of the beds nearest the window.
"Excuse me," Lorik said quietly.
"Mm," grumbled the anonymous dozer.
"Would you mind if I opened the curtains a bit? Let in some light?"
"Chances are it's a dull day anyway," came a response that was slightly slurred from sleep, "but be my guest."
"Thank you." He pulled back the drapes a fraction then sat at the sill, looking out into the late morning in a vague attempt to wake himself up.
There was a rustling sound as the other visitor sat up in bed. "You're the one who lost his wife, aren't you? Orsad, is it?" he ventured.
Lorik glanced back, nothing if not mildly surprised by the stranger's assertion, and found himself nodding.
"Valtep," the stranger introduced himself. "If it's any comfort, I know how you feel. My father died in action three months ago."
Lorik understood the kind of peril that came with the territory when he had joined the military, but somehow that didn't seem to be of any importance right now. "It's not quite the same," he murmured.
"I suppose not," Valtep conceded. "We all knew it was a risk. But it doesn't change the empty feeling inside, knowing that someone you love is gone, and that you'll never see that person again?" He was silent for a time. "I am sorry about your wife."
"It's all right," he said vacantly. "It wasn't your fault."
"Going home soon?"
"They're still treating my son."
"Oh." He looked as if he might ask what for, but Lorik wasn't sure he could bear that, and ploughed on.
"Who are you here for?"
"My nephew. It was his sixteenth birthday the other week, you know."
"Will he be all right?"
"Eventually."
Lorik permitted himself a smile at this small scrap of fortune. "I'm glad."
Silence was predominant in the conversation for a long time until there was a knock at the door and a nurse poked her head in. "Mr. Valtep."
The man got up and tugged the creases out of his clothes. "Right. Thank you." Before leaving, he turned back to Lorik and said, "I hope your son will be all right."
Lorik just nodded, and turned back toward the window as the door closed.
They had known Luil would die ever since she contracted her illness. But that her decline would be so rapid as for the doctors to induce birth a month early was something they hadn't been prepared for. At least she had held on for a little while after their son was born. She had been a mother for a full week. He leaned his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes. The way things were going, he wouldn't be a father for much longer than that. Fate could really be so cruel as to leave him with nothing. A tear escaped from his eye and snaked a trail down the side of his face as grief finally managed to overtake him. He had lost his world, and yet he still had so much more to lose. It would be weeks of strained spirit and faded hope before he found out the little one's fate.
As it happened, the mourning Lorik Orsad was granted a miracle in the face of tragedy; the boy lived.
_________________
Warrant Officer Tekel Orsad
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer (to be)
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
When I was a kid I claimed that all the warring worlds should set aside their differences and bloody well get along. That argument still stands, only now it needs a cane.
"They're doing all they can for the baby. It's out of our hands now."
"Makes you think, doesn't it? Under different circumstances, this could've been the start of a big family. Now he might just walk away alone."
"He may be a father yet."
The voices might have been muffled by the door of the guest quarters, but they reached Lorik on his journey back to the waking world, and echoed his thoughts quite accurately. Stifled by the sheer depression of it all, he fumbled back the sheets and woozily hauled himself out of his bunk. The room was still so dark; understandably so, as visitors mostly came here to sleep. At present there was only one other occupant, who appeared to be dozing in one of the beds nearest the window.
"Excuse me," Lorik said quietly.
"Mm," grumbled the anonymous dozer.
"Would you mind if I opened the curtains a bit? Let in some light?"
"Chances are it's a dull day anyway," came a response that was slightly slurred from sleep, "but be my guest."
"Thank you." He pulled back the drapes a fraction then sat at the sill, looking out into the late morning in a vague attempt to wake himself up.
There was a rustling sound as the other visitor sat up in bed. "You're the one who lost his wife, aren't you? Orsad, is it?" he ventured.
Lorik glanced back, nothing if not mildly surprised by the stranger's assertion, and found himself nodding.
"Valtep," the stranger introduced himself. "If it's any comfort, I know how you feel. My father died in action three months ago."
Lorik understood the kind of peril that came with the territory when he had joined the military, but somehow that didn't seem to be of any importance right now. "It's not quite the same," he murmured.
"I suppose not," Valtep conceded. "We all knew it was a risk. But it doesn't change the empty feeling inside, knowing that someone you love is gone, and that you'll never see that person again?" He was silent for a time. "I am sorry about your wife."
"It's all right," he said vacantly. "It wasn't your fault."
"Going home soon?"
"They're still treating my son."
"Oh." He looked as if he might ask what for, but Lorik wasn't sure he could bear that, and ploughed on.
"Who are you here for?"
"My nephew. It was his sixteenth birthday the other week, you know."
"Will he be all right?"
"Eventually."
Lorik permitted himself a smile at this small scrap of fortune. "I'm glad."
Silence was predominant in the conversation for a long time until there was a knock at the door and a nurse poked her head in. "Mr. Valtep."
The man got up and tugged the creases out of his clothes. "Right. Thank you." Before leaving, he turned back to Lorik and said, "I hope your son will be all right."
Lorik just nodded, and turned back toward the window as the door closed.
They had known Luil would die ever since she contracted her illness. But that her decline would be so rapid as for the doctors to induce birth a month early was something they hadn't been prepared for. At least she had held on for a little while after their son was born. She had been a mother for a full week. He leaned his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes. The way things were going, he wouldn't be a father for much longer than that. Fate could really be so cruel as to leave him with nothing. A tear escaped from his eye and snaked a trail down the side of his face as grief finally managed to overtake him. He had lost his world, and yet he still had so much more to lose. It would be weeks of strained spirit and faded hope before he found out the little one's fate.
As it happened, the mourning Lorik Orsad was granted a miracle in the face of tragedy; the boy lived.
_________________
Warrant Officer Tekel Orsad
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer (to be)
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
When I was a kid I claimed that all the warring worlds should set aside their differences and bloody well get along. That argument still stands, only now it needs a cane.
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Former Member
- Posts: 169
- Joined: Mon Dec 19, 2005 11:48 pm
When his son Tekel was three years old, Lorik did something it had never occurred to him to do since Luil had died, and fell in love again. The woman's name was Drianden Vell, and she was vibrant, stubborn and caring, and a brilliant scientist. They wasted little time in getting married. And though Tekel was not her son, Drianden was especially fond of the boy, and even when she and Lorik started to have children, she always treated Tekel like her first, her eldest, her own. To a boy who had never known a mother, she was all he had dreamed of and more than he could ask for.
Roughly a year after the wedding found Drianden sitting in bed, holding Tekel as she helped him to cradle his newborn half-sister, Asinti. The little one pawed at the toddler's lips, and eventually caught the lower one in her surprisingly strong grip. Just as Drianden was unlatching her fingers, Lorik appeared in the doorway wearing an uncertain smile, and informed his family that he had been promoted to the rank of Gul and given charge of the Cardassian Military's post at a small village on Bajor.
"Oh- Lorik, that's wonderful," Drianden said after a moment of surprise, holding out her free arm for him to come and embrace her. "Congratulations."
Lorik drifted to his wife's beside, but still looked rather fretful. "It would mean us all moving there," he explained.
"Well, a nice little village will be a nice change from living in the city. Won't it Tekel?"
The conception spawned by the words "little village" and painted in the child's mind was a fanciful and desirable one, and so he nodded hopefully. Smiling fondly at his son, Lorik seemed somewhat reassured; though not entirely. Reading this, Drianden went on, "We would never want you to forfeit your career for us, dear."
"The living conditions won't be luxurious," he warned.
"We'll pull through," she told him.
Her confidence seemed to persuade him. "My duties aren't terribly demanding," he explained almost apologetically. "But at least that means I'll be able to spend more time with the three of you."
This could very well have been the reasoning behind the military's decision to post Orsad at the village of Loatar. He was, by no stretch of the imagination, a born soldier. He suffered from the crippling disability of compassion, which twinged at his conscience and goaded him into asking questions, no matter how he may have trusted his commanding officers. Loatar was a straightforward assignment, with no important resources to monitor save a lone machinery plant. Orsad could do little harm here, his superiors were sure, and he would be out of the army's way.
Whether or not Lorik Orsad was aware of why he had been stationed at Loatar is not known, but he was almost certainly aware of the fact that he could indeed do little harm in this village. In fact, when, on the long trip over to Bajor, Drianden remarked brightly that he could really do some good in this place, the kindly Gul took her words to heart.
_________________
Warrant Officer Tekel Orsad
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer (to be)
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
When I was a kid I claimed that all the warring worlds should set aside their differences and bloody well get along. That argument still stands, only now it needs a cane.
Roughly a year after the wedding found Drianden sitting in bed, holding Tekel as she helped him to cradle his newborn half-sister, Asinti. The little one pawed at the toddler's lips, and eventually caught the lower one in her surprisingly strong grip. Just as Drianden was unlatching her fingers, Lorik appeared in the doorway wearing an uncertain smile, and informed his family that he had been promoted to the rank of Gul and given charge of the Cardassian Military's post at a small village on Bajor.
"Oh- Lorik, that's wonderful," Drianden said after a moment of surprise, holding out her free arm for him to come and embrace her. "Congratulations."
Lorik drifted to his wife's beside, but still looked rather fretful. "It would mean us all moving there," he explained.
"Well, a nice little village will be a nice change from living in the city. Won't it Tekel?"
The conception spawned by the words "little village" and painted in the child's mind was a fanciful and desirable one, and so he nodded hopefully. Smiling fondly at his son, Lorik seemed somewhat reassured; though not entirely. Reading this, Drianden went on, "We would never want you to forfeit your career for us, dear."
"The living conditions won't be luxurious," he warned.
"We'll pull through," she told him.
Her confidence seemed to persuade him. "My duties aren't terribly demanding," he explained almost apologetically. "But at least that means I'll be able to spend more time with the three of you."
This could very well have been the reasoning behind the military's decision to post Orsad at the village of Loatar. He was, by no stretch of the imagination, a born soldier. He suffered from the crippling disability of compassion, which twinged at his conscience and goaded him into asking questions, no matter how he may have trusted his commanding officers. Loatar was a straightforward assignment, with no important resources to monitor save a lone machinery plant. Orsad could do little harm here, his superiors were sure, and he would be out of the army's way.
Whether or not Lorik Orsad was aware of why he had been stationed at Loatar is not known, but he was almost certainly aware of the fact that he could indeed do little harm in this village. In fact, when, on the long trip over to Bajor, Drianden remarked brightly that he could really do some good in this place, the kindly Gul took her words to heart.
_________________
Warrant Officer Tekel Orsad
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer (to be)
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
When I was a kid I claimed that all the warring worlds should set aside their differences and bloody well get along. That argument still stands, only now it needs a cane.
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Former Member
- Posts: 169
- Joined: Mon Dec 19, 2005 11:48 pm
Within the dingy plant endearingly referred to as "the Furnace," a young man named Rahnos was sweating through his rags and simmering in his bad mood. "What in the name of the Prophets is going on?" he demanded.
The assembly line on which drilling components had been trundling along had been moving progressively slower over the past several days, stretching out the working day continually to meet quotas, but apparently, though this was at the height of Bajoran laborers' complaints, it was now the least of their problems, for the line had now in fact halted altogether.
"Damned rubbish equipment," one of Rahnos' fellow workers grumbled.
"What do they want us to do," piped up another, "go and fish out the parts manually?"
Rahnos merely snorted. "Forget it. Let's just see if we can't get this heap of scrap metal working again."
Such was how Gul Orsad found the young Bajoran when he entered the machinery plant. "What's happening here?" he wondered, more to himself than to the soldiers serving as guides for his first few days in charge, though they seemed to take the question as directed at them.
"This is the plant where much of the heavy duty equipment for the Southern Merrhyl Province gets put together. You've got harvesters, drills, mining machinery?"
"And they manage doing all that? There don't seem to be very many of them."
"Ah, bunch of slackers, the lot of them," the soldier scoffed. "Always complaining of ailments, not bothering to show up? For the most part, sir, we just leave them to their own devices, unless of course a disciplinary problem requires our intervention."
The other guide wasted little time in piping up, "Next, we're to show you the communications building, where-"
Orsad cut through him. "In just a moment, officer. Wait by the door for now, would you?" Finding this all rather tedious, the two soldiers obliged, but in a rather bored manner, as Orsad approached the young mechanic digging around inside the control block at the end of the assembly line. "Have you found the problem?" he asked when the Bajoran seemed to have paused in his work.
Rahnos looked up, and upon seeing Orsad's face, merely swore, "Blood of the Prophets," and went back to his work.
"What's wrong with it?" Lorik persisted.
"Energy converter's shot," Rahnos muttered.
Lorik nodded, looking pleasantly surprised. "So it's just a matter of replacing it?"
Rahnos looked up suspiciously. "Aye."
"Garon," the Gul said, turning back to the soldiers. "How soon can we have a replacement power converter sent here?"
Garon didn't look any more believing than Rahnos did. "Maybe five days, sir."
Lorik nodded. "Very good. I'll make the arrangements." To Rahnos he added, "You needn't trouble yourself any further at the moment, although I may have to call upon your expertise when it comes to installing the new converter."
Rahnos stood to face Orsad eye to eye. At his full height, he had a few inches on the Gul, which gratified him, and he folded his arms in order to emphasize his newfound intimidating disposition. "What's your game, Gul?" he asked, dislike etched firmly in his features. "Aren't you going to wait until I lose a hand trying to repair the damned thing without the new equipment?"
"What would be the point in that?" Lorik replied evenly. "There's no point in all of you continuing to work if the assembly lines can't function. Tell your coworkers they're all dismissed until further notice."
The color drained slightly from Rahnos' face. "Dismissed to where?"
"To their homes. Don't look so skittish, Mr.-?"
"Kemm," he replied stiffly. "Kemm Rahnos."
"Mr. Kemm. They can return to work in about five days."
"Right?" Rahnos was thrown off. He was still trying to figure out the catch, if there was one.
"And you, I would like to report back here at 1000 hours tomorrow. I have some things to discuss with you."
"Should I be prepared to suffer?"
"Not unless technical conversation makes you especially uncomfortable. Now go home, Kemm. You look like you could use a good scrub."
Rahnos continued to stare askance at the new Gul until Lorik had passed through the doorway and out of sight.
"You'll have to inform me of the proper procedure for requesting machinery," Orsad was telling the soldiers.
"What a rookie," Officer Garon groaned under his breath.
"Don't worry," his companion muttered back. "I'm sure he'll get the hang of it soon."
_________________
Warrant Officer Tekel Orsad
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer (to be)
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
When I was a kid I claimed that all the warring worlds should set aside their differences and bloody well get along. That argument still stands, only now it needs a cane.
The assembly line on which drilling components had been trundling along had been moving progressively slower over the past several days, stretching out the working day continually to meet quotas, but apparently, though this was at the height of Bajoran laborers' complaints, it was now the least of their problems, for the line had now in fact halted altogether.
"Damned rubbish equipment," one of Rahnos' fellow workers grumbled.
"What do they want us to do," piped up another, "go and fish out the parts manually?"
Rahnos merely snorted. "Forget it. Let's just see if we can't get this heap of scrap metal working again."
Such was how Gul Orsad found the young Bajoran when he entered the machinery plant. "What's happening here?" he wondered, more to himself than to the soldiers serving as guides for his first few days in charge, though they seemed to take the question as directed at them.
"This is the plant where much of the heavy duty equipment for the Southern Merrhyl Province gets put together. You've got harvesters, drills, mining machinery?"
"And they manage doing all that? There don't seem to be very many of them."
"Ah, bunch of slackers, the lot of them," the soldier scoffed. "Always complaining of ailments, not bothering to show up? For the most part, sir, we just leave them to their own devices, unless of course a disciplinary problem requires our intervention."
The other guide wasted little time in piping up, "Next, we're to show you the communications building, where-"
Orsad cut through him. "In just a moment, officer. Wait by the door for now, would you?" Finding this all rather tedious, the two soldiers obliged, but in a rather bored manner, as Orsad approached the young mechanic digging around inside the control block at the end of the assembly line. "Have you found the problem?" he asked when the Bajoran seemed to have paused in his work.
Rahnos looked up, and upon seeing Orsad's face, merely swore, "Blood of the Prophets," and went back to his work.
"What's wrong with it?" Lorik persisted.
"Energy converter's shot," Rahnos muttered.
Lorik nodded, looking pleasantly surprised. "So it's just a matter of replacing it?"
Rahnos looked up suspiciously. "Aye."
"Garon," the Gul said, turning back to the soldiers. "How soon can we have a replacement power converter sent here?"
Garon didn't look any more believing than Rahnos did. "Maybe five days, sir."
Lorik nodded. "Very good. I'll make the arrangements." To Rahnos he added, "You needn't trouble yourself any further at the moment, although I may have to call upon your expertise when it comes to installing the new converter."
Rahnos stood to face Orsad eye to eye. At his full height, he had a few inches on the Gul, which gratified him, and he folded his arms in order to emphasize his newfound intimidating disposition. "What's your game, Gul?" he asked, dislike etched firmly in his features. "Aren't you going to wait until I lose a hand trying to repair the damned thing without the new equipment?"
"What would be the point in that?" Lorik replied evenly. "There's no point in all of you continuing to work if the assembly lines can't function. Tell your coworkers they're all dismissed until further notice."
The color drained slightly from Rahnos' face. "Dismissed to where?"
"To their homes. Don't look so skittish, Mr.-?"
"Kemm," he replied stiffly. "Kemm Rahnos."
"Mr. Kemm. They can return to work in about five days."
"Right?" Rahnos was thrown off. He was still trying to figure out the catch, if there was one.
"And you, I would like to report back here at 1000 hours tomorrow. I have some things to discuss with you."
"Should I be prepared to suffer?"
"Not unless technical conversation makes you especially uncomfortable. Now go home, Kemm. You look like you could use a good scrub."
Rahnos continued to stare askance at the new Gul until Lorik had passed through the doorway and out of sight.
"You'll have to inform me of the proper procedure for requesting machinery," Orsad was telling the soldiers.
"What a rookie," Officer Garon groaned under his breath.
"Don't worry," his companion muttered back. "I'm sure he'll get the hang of it soon."
_________________
Warrant Officer Tekel Orsad
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer (to be)
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
When I was a kid I claimed that all the warring worlds should set aside their differences and bloody well get along. That argument still stands, only now it needs a cane.
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Former Member
- Posts: 169
- Joined: Mon Dec 19, 2005 11:48 pm
Around the time Gul Orsad arrived at his family's new domicile, where Drianden and the children had the unpacking process underway, Kemm Rahnos, in his home on the outskirts, was carefully tucking the blankets around his wife as she settled down for the evening.
"You needn't fuss, Rahnos," she was telling him until she interrupted herself with a sneezing fit.
"Evening, my dears!" Lorik greeted his family jovially after the soldiers had departed. "How goes the unpacking?"
"Not too disastrous so far," replied Drianden. "Tekel's been a wonderful help; he's been baby-sitting Asinti!"
"Good boy," beamed Lorik, ruffling the drowsy young one's scruffy mop of black hair.
"I have the right to fuss," Rahnos told his wife, readjusting the sheets; "I've been at work all day worrying about the two of you."
She wiped her nose, sniffing. "What was it you were saying about the new overseer earlier?"
"What do you think of Loatar, Lorik?" asked Drianden.
Rahnos shifted uncomfortably. "I can't quite figure him out. He actually seems civil."
"Nice change," chuckled his wife.
Lorik was somewhat more optimistic than the Bajoran man. "The conditions are a bit harsh, and the inhabitants all look a bit worn out, but that can all improve. I'm going to make headway on getting that machinery plant up to scratch tomorrow morning. I'll be meeting with one of the mechanics, as a matter of fact. Kemm Rahnos."
Scooping a slumbering Asinti into her arms, Drianden looked back at him, impressed. "And what's he like?"
"He's a Cardassian," Rahnos blurted out. "He should be manipulating the administration into making things worse for us. He should be looking forward to all the grief he'll cause us. He should be anticipating breaking the spirits of each and every Bajoran in Loatar."
"And he isn't?" came the quite reply.
"He's nice enough," Lorik said. "A hard worker, no doubt. But I don't think he trusts me."
Rahnos sighed. "I know I shouldn't trust him," he maintained. "But looking at the man, I couldn't find that gleam of malice in his eyes that I've come to expect from Cardassians. It's strange, Trella; I wouldn't have even pegged him for a military officer."
"And you're meeting him tomorrow?"
"Will you be meeting him alone?"
"Yes, but don't worry. I'll have my disruptor with me in case he tries anything." Catching the look of mild surprise on his wife's face, Lorik gave her a sage smile. "A mere precaution, my dear. I may believe in the basic goodness of people, but I'm no fool."
"Yes," Rahnos murmured. "I don't know whether I should be worried or not?"
"I'll come with you," Trella started, but Rahnos cut her off with a frantic wave of the hand.
"No!"
"Rahnos," Trella said crossly, "just because I'm a woman-"
"This isn't about you being a woman," he assured her. "It's about you being a woman and a baby. We can't risk anything happening to the little one."
"Can I come, Father?" piped up Tekel, who had perked up considerably during his parents' conversation. "Can I come and see the Bajoran?"
"Tekel, dear," Drianden hushed, trying to steer the boy off that track, "not so loud, you'll wake the baby."
Trella simply gave her husband a wry smile. "Perhaps seeing a pregnant woman with you will unnerve him," she joked.
"Can I go too, Father, please?" Tekel persisted in a whisper. He was so determined to meet a Bajoran, and well might he be; the boy had never seen one of the broken-nosed aliens before.
"Ask me again in the morning, Teki," Lorik told his son, taking him by the hand as he put an arm around Drianden and started to steer her toward the room where the children would sleep. "It's bedtime." Tekel huffed a yawn. His father had just employed one of his most successful maneuvers; delay the question until morning, by which time Tekel had usually forgotten all about that particular whim.
_________________
Warrant Officer Tekel Orsad
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer (to be)
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
When I was a kid I claimed that all the warring worlds should set aside their differences and bloody well get along. That argument still stands, only now it needs a cane.
"You needn't fuss, Rahnos," she was telling him until she interrupted herself with a sneezing fit.
"Evening, my dears!" Lorik greeted his family jovially after the soldiers had departed. "How goes the unpacking?"
"Not too disastrous so far," replied Drianden. "Tekel's been a wonderful help; he's been baby-sitting Asinti!"
"Good boy," beamed Lorik, ruffling the drowsy young one's scruffy mop of black hair.
"I have the right to fuss," Rahnos told his wife, readjusting the sheets; "I've been at work all day worrying about the two of you."
She wiped her nose, sniffing. "What was it you were saying about the new overseer earlier?"
"What do you think of Loatar, Lorik?" asked Drianden.
Rahnos shifted uncomfortably. "I can't quite figure him out. He actually seems civil."
"Nice change," chuckled his wife.
Lorik was somewhat more optimistic than the Bajoran man. "The conditions are a bit harsh, and the inhabitants all look a bit worn out, but that can all improve. I'm going to make headway on getting that machinery plant up to scratch tomorrow morning. I'll be meeting with one of the mechanics, as a matter of fact. Kemm Rahnos."
Scooping a slumbering Asinti into her arms, Drianden looked back at him, impressed. "And what's he like?"
"He's a Cardassian," Rahnos blurted out. "He should be manipulating the administration into making things worse for us. He should be looking forward to all the grief he'll cause us. He should be anticipating breaking the spirits of each and every Bajoran in Loatar."
"And he isn't?" came the quite reply.
"He's nice enough," Lorik said. "A hard worker, no doubt. But I don't think he trusts me."
Rahnos sighed. "I know I shouldn't trust him," he maintained. "But looking at the man, I couldn't find that gleam of malice in his eyes that I've come to expect from Cardassians. It's strange, Trella; I wouldn't have even pegged him for a military officer."
"And you're meeting him tomorrow?"
"Will you be meeting him alone?"
"Yes, but don't worry. I'll have my disruptor with me in case he tries anything." Catching the look of mild surprise on his wife's face, Lorik gave her a sage smile. "A mere precaution, my dear. I may believe in the basic goodness of people, but I'm no fool."
"Yes," Rahnos murmured. "I don't know whether I should be worried or not?"
"I'll come with you," Trella started, but Rahnos cut her off with a frantic wave of the hand.
"No!"
"Rahnos," Trella said crossly, "just because I'm a woman-"
"This isn't about you being a woman," he assured her. "It's about you being a woman and a baby. We can't risk anything happening to the little one."
"Can I come, Father?" piped up Tekel, who had perked up considerably during his parents' conversation. "Can I come and see the Bajoran?"
"Tekel, dear," Drianden hushed, trying to steer the boy off that track, "not so loud, you'll wake the baby."
Trella simply gave her husband a wry smile. "Perhaps seeing a pregnant woman with you will unnerve him," she joked.
"Can I go too, Father, please?" Tekel persisted in a whisper. He was so determined to meet a Bajoran, and well might he be; the boy had never seen one of the broken-nosed aliens before.
"Ask me again in the morning, Teki," Lorik told his son, taking him by the hand as he put an arm around Drianden and started to steer her toward the room where the children would sleep. "It's bedtime." Tekel huffed a yawn. His father had just employed one of his most successful maneuvers; delay the question until morning, by which time Tekel had usually forgotten all about that particular whim.
_________________
Warrant Officer Tekel Orsad
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer (to be)
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
When I was a kid I claimed that all the warring worlds should set aside their differences and bloody well get along. That argument still stands, only now it needs a cane.
-
Former Member
- Posts: 169
- Joined: Mon Dec 19, 2005 11:48 pm
Tekel could be an insistent little bother when he wanted. Lorik sighed, wondering what Kemm would think of the new Gul showing up with not guards, but a Cardassian toddler.
"Remember, he's not like an exhibit in a museum, he's just a person, the same as you or me," he reminded him.
"He's late," Tekel said disappointedly, peering at his father's chronometer.
"I'm sure he has a good reason."
"I was speaking with my wife," came a voice from the doorway. "Lost track of time."
"Understandable," Lorik nodded as he turned to face the mechanic, instinctively putting a protective arm around Tekel's shoulder. Rahnos was eying the boy uncertainly; Tekel stared back avidly. "My son," the Gul explained wearily. "Tekel. Tekel," he added to his son, with a tone of voice that warned him to be polite, "this is Kemm Rahnos."
"Hello Mr. Rahnos," Tekel said meekly.
"Mr. Kemm," both men corrected him. Tekel huddled closer to his father's leg, starting to feel the typical timidity of children around strangers.
"You brought your son?" Rahnos murmured.
An awkward laugh accompanied the response, "He insisted, I'm afraid. Wants to know everything that's going on, does the little tyke. Don't worry, he'll drop right off to sleep after we start talking about the mechanics of this place."
"I will not!"
Rahnos nodded, still looking a little bemused. Lorik felt the smile on his face start to sag. Somehow he felt the discussion of the machinery plant's maintenance would be very forced conversation unless he could relieve the tension. "Have you a family?" he tried.
"What's it to you?" the Bajoran shot back quietly.
Lorik's face fell further. "I'm just another tyrannical Cardassian to you, aren't I?" he sighed.
Although their voices were lowered for Tekel's benefit, the boy still picked up on the tone of the conversation. "What's wrong?" he mumbled, tugging at his Lorik's sleeve.
"There's nothing I can do to make you trust me, Kemm" Lorik said softly. "I can only promise you that I'm not ill-intentioned."
"Why would you need my trust, anyway?"
"I don't need it. I would appreciate it. You've been here longer than I, Kemm; I'll have to be trusting your judgments."
"But not my intentions."
"If I mistrusted your intentions, would I have brought-" Lorik cut himself off. His hand unconsciously tightened its grip on Tekel's shoulder.
"Father," Tekel started nervously, glancing between the two men, "do Bajorans hate Cardassians?"
Both looked at him. Rahnos raised his eyebrows. "Innocent little thing," he remarked.
"Isn't he just," Lorik said fondly, ruffling the boy's hair.
"Told him to say that, did you?"
Suddenly tired of the man's distrustful nature, Lorik gave him a wide grin. "Oh, yes. We've been rehearsing him for months. Quite convincing, don't you think? Were you moved?"
A sigh escaped Rahnos. "I can't figure you out, Gul."
"Then let me help you there. I just want to help."
"That's not how Cardassians work."
"And I'm suspecting that's why they sent me here. To get a bad example such as myself out of the way. No offense," he added, "but this isn't quite the most important base of operations on the planet."
Rahnos smirked slightly. "So you brought your family along for the holiday?"
"We want to make a home for ourselves here. Like you. Alongside you. You can understand wanting a stable environment to in which to raise a family, can't you, Kemm?"
Rahnos nodded silently, and didn't speak for a time. He was staring intently at the floor, musing at the thought that maybe this new Gul could make life just a little better here. Orsad just didn't seem like a hardened military officer; he was a father. The mechanic chanced a look up at the Cardassian and his son; he was still holding the boy by the shoulder, just tightly enough that he could sweep him out of harm's way, should the need arise. His furrowed brow now sliding apart, Rahnos realized that Orsad wasn't quite able to trust him either.
"Well- my wife- she's expecting," the Bajoran said haltingly.
Lorik looked back at Rahnos with a new gleam in his eyes. It was as if the ugly exchanges recently made had never occurred. "Oh, congratulations! When?"
Rahnos' pride of Trella flushed a little color into his cheeks. "Next month."
"You'll have to remind me to give you some leave nearer the time," Lorik told him, walking in the direction of the plant's generator with Tekel in tow. "There's nothing more important than being with your wife as she brings a child into the world."
"Yes," Rahnos couldn't help but agree as he followed. Now on the subject of his wife, he felt the need to explain further. "I've been with her every chance I have- when I'm off duty, of course- it's our first, you see, and I've been fretting to no end."
"I know that feeling," Lorik said quietly.
"It quite frays her nerves, I think. I'm probably more nervous than she is."
"There's no crime in being attentive, Rahnos," Lorik assured him.
It had never occurred to neither Lorik nor Luil that anything would go wrong with the arrival of their first baby. Some small part of him had always clung to the possibility that if he had paid more attention to his pregnant wife, she would have lived to see her son grow up.
"I just don't ever want her to be hurt," Rahnos was saying. "She means the world to me." Caught up in such strong feelings, he seemed to forget for the moment that it was, in theory, a very foolish thing to reveal such attachments to an overseer who could potentially use this information against him; indeed, whom he had been fearing mere minutes ago would do just that.
Lorik hardly heard him, his own thoughts presently wrapping around the memory of Luil. Part of him yearned quietly to tell Rahnos of her fate and his guilt. Goodness knew he could never burden Drianden or scar Tekel with any of this. But no, he couldn't possibly worry the young man any further.
"Have you any other children?" Rahnos offered.
"A daughter, Asinti. She's at home with my wife; a bit too young to be trooping out to the machinery plant yet," he said with a smile.
"If she's anything like your son I suppose it'll only be a matter of time."
"Oh, don't even joke. The pair of them are hard enough to keep track of around the house."
"Well, this is certainly improving my outlook on fatherhood," Rahnos quipped ironically.
"It should," said Lorik, quite seriously. "In the future, when you speak about your children as little monsters that dominate your life, you'll be smiling all the while, because you know better."
A soft smile alighted on the young mechanic's face. "Can't wait," he sighed. He tilted his head to one side. "So- 'children'? You reckon there'll be a plural number of them?"
Lorik chuckled knowingly. "You can't possibly stop after one."
The Cardassian had been right in saying his son would fall asleep, but it wasn't the technical jargon that did the trick. Standing idly by the generator, they talked endlessly on the subject of children and wives, of being fathers and husbands, and just how a family could both change you and be changed by you. That day their uncertainties and reservations started to seep away as the two men walked on common ground. After a while, they both recalled that they were meant to be discussing the generator, not just standing by it, and finally started to get to work on a repair plan for the Furnace.
That evening, while Lorik supervised his son taking a bath to wash off the grubby stains he had acquired from sleeping rolled up on the dirty work plant floor, he asked Drianden what she thought of their asking a new friend and his wife around to dinner.
_________________
Warrant Officer Tekel Orsad
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer (to be)
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
When I was a kid I claimed that all the warring worlds should set aside their differences and bloody well get along. That argument still stands, only now it needs a cane.
"Remember, he's not like an exhibit in a museum, he's just a person, the same as you or me," he reminded him.
"He's late," Tekel said disappointedly, peering at his father's chronometer.
"I'm sure he has a good reason."
"I was speaking with my wife," came a voice from the doorway. "Lost track of time."
"Understandable," Lorik nodded as he turned to face the mechanic, instinctively putting a protective arm around Tekel's shoulder. Rahnos was eying the boy uncertainly; Tekel stared back avidly. "My son," the Gul explained wearily. "Tekel. Tekel," he added to his son, with a tone of voice that warned him to be polite, "this is Kemm Rahnos."
"Hello Mr. Rahnos," Tekel said meekly.
"Mr. Kemm," both men corrected him. Tekel huddled closer to his father's leg, starting to feel the typical timidity of children around strangers.
"You brought your son?" Rahnos murmured.
An awkward laugh accompanied the response, "He insisted, I'm afraid. Wants to know everything that's going on, does the little tyke. Don't worry, he'll drop right off to sleep after we start talking about the mechanics of this place."
"I will not!"
Rahnos nodded, still looking a little bemused. Lorik felt the smile on his face start to sag. Somehow he felt the discussion of the machinery plant's maintenance would be very forced conversation unless he could relieve the tension. "Have you a family?" he tried.
"What's it to you?" the Bajoran shot back quietly.
Lorik's face fell further. "I'm just another tyrannical Cardassian to you, aren't I?" he sighed.
Although their voices were lowered for Tekel's benefit, the boy still picked up on the tone of the conversation. "What's wrong?" he mumbled, tugging at his Lorik's sleeve.
"There's nothing I can do to make you trust me, Kemm" Lorik said softly. "I can only promise you that I'm not ill-intentioned."
"Why would you need my trust, anyway?"
"I don't need it. I would appreciate it. You've been here longer than I, Kemm; I'll have to be trusting your judgments."
"But not my intentions."
"If I mistrusted your intentions, would I have brought-" Lorik cut himself off. His hand unconsciously tightened its grip on Tekel's shoulder.
"Father," Tekel started nervously, glancing between the two men, "do Bajorans hate Cardassians?"
Both looked at him. Rahnos raised his eyebrows. "Innocent little thing," he remarked.
"Isn't he just," Lorik said fondly, ruffling the boy's hair.
"Told him to say that, did you?"
Suddenly tired of the man's distrustful nature, Lorik gave him a wide grin. "Oh, yes. We've been rehearsing him for months. Quite convincing, don't you think? Were you moved?"
A sigh escaped Rahnos. "I can't figure you out, Gul."
"Then let me help you there. I just want to help."
"That's not how Cardassians work."
"And I'm suspecting that's why they sent me here. To get a bad example such as myself out of the way. No offense," he added, "but this isn't quite the most important base of operations on the planet."
Rahnos smirked slightly. "So you brought your family along for the holiday?"
"We want to make a home for ourselves here. Like you. Alongside you. You can understand wanting a stable environment to in which to raise a family, can't you, Kemm?"
Rahnos nodded silently, and didn't speak for a time. He was staring intently at the floor, musing at the thought that maybe this new Gul could make life just a little better here. Orsad just didn't seem like a hardened military officer; he was a father. The mechanic chanced a look up at the Cardassian and his son; he was still holding the boy by the shoulder, just tightly enough that he could sweep him out of harm's way, should the need arise. His furrowed brow now sliding apart, Rahnos realized that Orsad wasn't quite able to trust him either.
"Well- my wife- she's expecting," the Bajoran said haltingly.
Lorik looked back at Rahnos with a new gleam in his eyes. It was as if the ugly exchanges recently made had never occurred. "Oh, congratulations! When?"
Rahnos' pride of Trella flushed a little color into his cheeks. "Next month."
"You'll have to remind me to give you some leave nearer the time," Lorik told him, walking in the direction of the plant's generator with Tekel in tow. "There's nothing more important than being with your wife as she brings a child into the world."
"Yes," Rahnos couldn't help but agree as he followed. Now on the subject of his wife, he felt the need to explain further. "I've been with her every chance I have- when I'm off duty, of course- it's our first, you see, and I've been fretting to no end."
"I know that feeling," Lorik said quietly.
"It quite frays her nerves, I think. I'm probably more nervous than she is."
"There's no crime in being attentive, Rahnos," Lorik assured him.
It had never occurred to neither Lorik nor Luil that anything would go wrong with the arrival of their first baby. Some small part of him had always clung to the possibility that if he had paid more attention to his pregnant wife, she would have lived to see her son grow up.
"I just don't ever want her to be hurt," Rahnos was saying. "She means the world to me." Caught up in such strong feelings, he seemed to forget for the moment that it was, in theory, a very foolish thing to reveal such attachments to an overseer who could potentially use this information against him; indeed, whom he had been fearing mere minutes ago would do just that.
Lorik hardly heard him, his own thoughts presently wrapping around the memory of Luil. Part of him yearned quietly to tell Rahnos of her fate and his guilt. Goodness knew he could never burden Drianden or scar Tekel with any of this. But no, he couldn't possibly worry the young man any further.
"Have you any other children?" Rahnos offered.
"A daughter, Asinti. She's at home with my wife; a bit too young to be trooping out to the machinery plant yet," he said with a smile.
"If she's anything like your son I suppose it'll only be a matter of time."
"Oh, don't even joke. The pair of them are hard enough to keep track of around the house."
"Well, this is certainly improving my outlook on fatherhood," Rahnos quipped ironically.
"It should," said Lorik, quite seriously. "In the future, when you speak about your children as little monsters that dominate your life, you'll be smiling all the while, because you know better."
A soft smile alighted on the young mechanic's face. "Can't wait," he sighed. He tilted his head to one side. "So- 'children'? You reckon there'll be a plural number of them?"
Lorik chuckled knowingly. "You can't possibly stop after one."
The Cardassian had been right in saying his son would fall asleep, but it wasn't the technical jargon that did the trick. Standing idly by the generator, they talked endlessly on the subject of children and wives, of being fathers and husbands, and just how a family could both change you and be changed by you. That day their uncertainties and reservations started to seep away as the two men walked on common ground. After a while, they both recalled that they were meant to be discussing the generator, not just standing by it, and finally started to get to work on a repair plan for the Furnace.
That evening, while Lorik supervised his son taking a bath to wash off the grubby stains he had acquired from sleeping rolled up on the dirty work plant floor, he asked Drianden what she thought of their asking a new friend and his wife around to dinner.
_________________
Warrant Officer Tekel Orsad
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer (to be)
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
When I was a kid I claimed that all the warring worlds should set aside their differences and bloody well get along. That argument still stands, only now it needs a cane.
-
Former Member
- Posts: 169
- Joined: Mon Dec 19, 2005 11:48 pm
Rahnos and Trella were not the only villagers of Loatar Lorik and his family befriended, but over time they grew to be the dearest. Soon the Bajoran couple were the joyful parents of a mischievous little boy named Senite, who rivaled Tekel as a playmate for Asinti. Young Kemm Senite eventually gained two sisters, all the while the Orsad family was blossoming and flourishing. Tekel?s first half-brother was a sensitive little thing named Varrim, who became dutifully attached to his family members, and his older sister in particular. Next came Dran, destined to be the black sheep of the family, fretted over to no end by his mother. His younger sister Janda was a smart one, and perhaps a little too confident for her own good. A great deal of her time was devoted to commanding her playmates in their revelries. Utan was the youngest son, kind although not terribly bright, and somewhat subservient to Janda. Last in the legacy was a darling little infant, Shiana, playful, laughter-loving, and adorably shy. The Kemms? first daughter, Heral, was roughly a decade older than the baby, and was always cooing over her whenever the two families were visiting.
A typical evening at the end of a working week consisted of both families milling around the household- usually the Orsads?, given that it was more spacious- playing sometimes, and throughout the night inevitably settling down into a gentle, comfortable buzz of conversation. There, in a secluded corner, Asinti and Senite, growing timidly into the realm of young adulthood, would sit, curled up or perhaps crouching while they made animated gestures, vividly explaining to each other the trials and tribulations they was facing, their views on life, and all other things philosophical or meaningless. Varrim would usually be hovering nearby, seeking to belong in a conversation that was somehow beyond him. Lorik might be drifting around peeking in on the children?s banter from time to time, but rarely straying far from the company of Rahnos, or the companionship of Drianden if the week had been particularly draining. For a woman bubbling with individuality, she was remarkably supportive of anyone who might need her. It had not taken her long, after the birth of Senite, to become fast friends with Trella. Humble yet frank as the young Bajoran woman was, as well as independent, and matched against Drianden?s assertive, vibrant nature, it was a natural process for the two to form a symbiosis of sorts, with Drianden bringing out qualities in Trella that she was then happy to be exposed to.
Trella, at present, would probably be glancing around to see how her youngest child Thena was doing. The poor girl was a delicate and quite beautiful little thing, but prone to an unfortunately reclusive nature. Utan only rarely troubled himself to reach out to her, of course being spurned each time, and then the only other contact Thena received was a gentle prodding into conversation by Heral. Now Trella would hoist her quiet daughter up into her arms, where she was nestle almost as snugly as tiny Shiana would in Drianden?s embrace. Heral would constantly sidle over to grin and gurgle at Shiana, and occasionally whisper comfort to Thena, and then return to Janda and Utan, who were sometimes accompanied by Dran. When the younger two got tired and started to doze, she might seek out Tekel.
In days gone by, Tekel tended to knit neatly into a group with Senite and Asinti, but in his teenage years the age gap had started to loom as an even deeper gash than it once had been. If Dran had decided to accompany Varrim in his quiet watchfulness, Tekel might join the pair and attempt to strike up a conversation. Nowadays, thought, even this was proving to be more of an effort than the adolescent felt it should be. For lack of anyone his own age, he took to tagging along after his father and Rahnos. It was a pleasant feeling to listen to them and comprehend was the grown-ups where saying, and he was even starting to make worthy contributions to the debates on whatever galactic affairs were in the works. The Cardassian boy always seemed to have a viewpoint concerning what warring or uneasy factions could do to make peace. Lorik and Rahnos frequently gave him sad, sage smiles, perhaps wishing they could be as idealistic as to believe in a miracle cure for all the worlds? ailments.
For some reason that seemed to be left unsaid, the issue of the Cardassian Occupation was never formally discussed. It was, after all, so easy for the Kemms and the Orsads each to forget just what the other was. Naturally, it cropped up now and then that Lorik?s superiors were issuing these orders, or it looked like the underground movement had pulled another stunt that hadn?t been successful, but everything was objective. There were no Cardassians or Bajorans as far as these two families concerned; there were just friends in trying times, and the greatest fear they all harbored was that bias might destroy that.
The chatter between Lorik, Rahnos, and Tekel might turn to something more light-hearted in due course. ?Is that ion coupler working out all right?? or some such thing. Rahnos took great pleasure in quipping about the Prophet-blasted inefficiency of the Furnace, and whenever this particular topic sprang up, Heral tended to as well. ?I?ll bet the design matrix is getting rusty again! That?s what it was last time, wasn?t it, Papa?? The girl seemed oblivious to the fact that was she most often interrupting, but was fairly bright in matters of mechanics. Ten years old, and she had already taken to following her father to work, as Tekel had enjoyed doing in his younger days. But machinery bored him now, and at this point he would lapse into quiet observation of the other three?s talk. He couldn?t help but notice that her father and Rahnos gave Heral the same sort of look they gave to him when he told them what he thought in areas of diplomacy, except in this case their knowing smiles where more amused than saddened. There was, it seemed, less tragedy in the complications of engineering than peace-keeping. Perhaps that was why the Bajoran girl immersed herself so in mechanics.
_________________
Warrant Officer Tekel Orsad
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer (to be)
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
When I was a kid I claimed that all the warring worlds should set aside their differences and bloody well get along. That argument still stands, only now it needs a cane.
A typical evening at the end of a working week consisted of both families milling around the household- usually the Orsads?, given that it was more spacious- playing sometimes, and throughout the night inevitably settling down into a gentle, comfortable buzz of conversation. There, in a secluded corner, Asinti and Senite, growing timidly into the realm of young adulthood, would sit, curled up or perhaps crouching while they made animated gestures, vividly explaining to each other the trials and tribulations they was facing, their views on life, and all other things philosophical or meaningless. Varrim would usually be hovering nearby, seeking to belong in a conversation that was somehow beyond him. Lorik might be drifting around peeking in on the children?s banter from time to time, but rarely straying far from the company of Rahnos, or the companionship of Drianden if the week had been particularly draining. For a woman bubbling with individuality, she was remarkably supportive of anyone who might need her. It had not taken her long, after the birth of Senite, to become fast friends with Trella. Humble yet frank as the young Bajoran woman was, as well as independent, and matched against Drianden?s assertive, vibrant nature, it was a natural process for the two to form a symbiosis of sorts, with Drianden bringing out qualities in Trella that she was then happy to be exposed to.
Trella, at present, would probably be glancing around to see how her youngest child Thena was doing. The poor girl was a delicate and quite beautiful little thing, but prone to an unfortunately reclusive nature. Utan only rarely troubled himself to reach out to her, of course being spurned each time, and then the only other contact Thena received was a gentle prodding into conversation by Heral. Now Trella would hoist her quiet daughter up into her arms, where she was nestle almost as snugly as tiny Shiana would in Drianden?s embrace. Heral would constantly sidle over to grin and gurgle at Shiana, and occasionally whisper comfort to Thena, and then return to Janda and Utan, who were sometimes accompanied by Dran. When the younger two got tired and started to doze, she might seek out Tekel.
In days gone by, Tekel tended to knit neatly into a group with Senite and Asinti, but in his teenage years the age gap had started to loom as an even deeper gash than it once had been. If Dran had decided to accompany Varrim in his quiet watchfulness, Tekel might join the pair and attempt to strike up a conversation. Nowadays, thought, even this was proving to be more of an effort than the adolescent felt it should be. For lack of anyone his own age, he took to tagging along after his father and Rahnos. It was a pleasant feeling to listen to them and comprehend was the grown-ups where saying, and he was even starting to make worthy contributions to the debates on whatever galactic affairs were in the works. The Cardassian boy always seemed to have a viewpoint concerning what warring or uneasy factions could do to make peace. Lorik and Rahnos frequently gave him sad, sage smiles, perhaps wishing they could be as idealistic as to believe in a miracle cure for all the worlds? ailments.
For some reason that seemed to be left unsaid, the issue of the Cardassian Occupation was never formally discussed. It was, after all, so easy for the Kemms and the Orsads each to forget just what the other was. Naturally, it cropped up now and then that Lorik?s superiors were issuing these orders, or it looked like the underground movement had pulled another stunt that hadn?t been successful, but everything was objective. There were no Cardassians or Bajorans as far as these two families concerned; there were just friends in trying times, and the greatest fear they all harbored was that bias might destroy that.
The chatter between Lorik, Rahnos, and Tekel might turn to something more light-hearted in due course. ?Is that ion coupler working out all right?? or some such thing. Rahnos took great pleasure in quipping about the Prophet-blasted inefficiency of the Furnace, and whenever this particular topic sprang up, Heral tended to as well. ?I?ll bet the design matrix is getting rusty again! That?s what it was last time, wasn?t it, Papa?? The girl seemed oblivious to the fact that was she most often interrupting, but was fairly bright in matters of mechanics. Ten years old, and she had already taken to following her father to work, as Tekel had enjoyed doing in his younger days. But machinery bored him now, and at this point he would lapse into quiet observation of the other three?s talk. He couldn?t help but notice that her father and Rahnos gave Heral the same sort of look they gave to him when he told them what he thought in areas of diplomacy, except in this case their knowing smiles where more amused than saddened. There was, it seemed, less tragedy in the complications of engineering than peace-keeping. Perhaps that was why the Bajoran girl immersed herself so in mechanics.
_________________
Warrant Officer Tekel Orsad
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer (to be)
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
When I was a kid I claimed that all the warring worlds should set aside their differences and bloody well get along. That argument still stands, only now it needs a cane.
-
Former Member
- Posts: 169
- Joined: Mon Dec 19, 2005 11:48 pm
?They?re not back yet.?
Lorik glanced at the wall chronometer, then back at his wife. ?Perhaps they?ve lost track of time. They?re such dreamy little ones.?
?Senite knows we?re expecting them back,? Asinti piped up, appearing at her mother?s elbow and wearing an equally fretful expression.
?You?re not his keeper, Sint,? scoffed Dran.
The Kemm children were with the Orsads for the day, but had become restless around mid-afternoon and gone out to play. Now it was getting on for evening, the Gul had returned home for the day, and though Rahnos and Trella would be around soon to collect their three dear ones, no one had yet seen hide nor hair of Senite, Heral or Thena.
Ruffled by her brother?s indifference, Asinti found her face quivering as she clutched at Drianden. ?I should have gone with them,? she murmured. The only reason she hadn?t was because she and Senite hadn?t been on the best of terms recently, but despite the squabbles they were still best friends, and the young Cardassian was starting to fear she was about to be punished for her foolishness in letting Senite be put in harm?s way. Her voice dissolved into imminent tears. ?It?s my fault if anything?s happened to them...?
?You?re acting like they?re a bunch of kids!? Dran burst out. ?They can take care of themselves! Well, except for the baby.? (Thena had never quite outgrown that term.)
Lorik assured his wife and eldest daughter that Senite was more than capable of looking after himself and his sisters, but he couldn?t quite keep the doubt out of his voice.
?All the same, someone should go for them,? Drianden said briskly, then added, ?I?ll go for them.?
From his quietly watchful perch at the window, Varrim finally interjected into the conversation. ?Tekel?s already gone.?
The eldest Orsad child had felt a prickling sensation in his throat long minutes before Drianden had said anything. While the others had been fretting, or making a point not to in the case of Dran, he had slipped away unnoticed, and was now far from the house into the sun-parched, sandy wastelands outskirting the village. The Kemm children played there often. Senite had remarked to him that it was the only place in the world that felt remotely like somewhere else.
?Senite?? he called out now. ?Heral? Thena?? There was no response, and no sign of them as of yet. The wind had picked up slightly, make the sand shift restlessly about his ankles. The itching sensation in his throat seemed to solidify into a sort of lump, which stuck in his windpipe and made his eyes water. The three of them should have arrived back at least an hour ago. They always returned at that certain time, because it was always around the time Thena would start to get tired and then become moody in her weariness. Her behavior always reminded them of when they would be expected home. So why was today different?
His answer came in the form of a Cardassian military patrol. The moment he saw them, the lump in his throat jumped up and he felt bile creep into his mouth. He quickened his pace. The heat-induced waves and drifting particles of sediment in the air slightly obscured the view of the soldiers and their quarry, but somehow Tekel realized that the poor wretches they preyed on were three in number... He started to run.
?Senite, Heral!? he cried. ?Thena!? He could barely hear anything, could barely hear his own voice above the pounding of his boots on the ground and of the blood in his ears. ?Senite, Heral-?
?Tekel!? Senite screamed, his voice hampered by suppressed tears and wracked breathing. The next sound from the boy was a grunt of pain as he was kicked in the back.
All sound suddenly seemed to shrink into the distance as Tekel found his legs automatically charging forwards. ?Leave them alone!? he raged, before colliding forcefully with the young man who had just toppled Senite. Taken aback, the soldier stumbled and stared for a moment, before collecting himself and promptly giving the Gul?s son a hard shove back with an angry growl.
?Stay out of it, boy,? he warned.
?Ha!? scoffed another soldier, currently standing over a floored Heral with her heeled boot digging into the Bajoran?s back. The young girl wasn?t moving. ?That?s Orsad?s son,? Heral?s captor sneered. ?That little brat doesn?t stay out of anything.?
?Leave the children alone!? Tekel commanded in a harsh gasp. He could feel the bitter need for vengeance trembling in his hands, which were trying against his better judgment to curl themselves into fists.
?What right do they have to be here?? simmered the woman, putting a little more weight on the foot she had embedded in Heral?s back. ?They strut around in the outskirts as though they own the place, as though they?re special. I do hope you and your family haven?t been encouraging this delusion in any way,? she added in a menacing whisper.
Tekel felt his hands and face go cold and clammy as he realized what she was insinuating. Wordlessly, fearfully even, he reached out to Senite, who had clambered to his feet, and if indicating that the boy should come to him, get behind him. But before he had taken a step, one of the bulkier soldiers grabbed his shoulder and wrenched him back. Senite bit his lip so he wouldn?t cry out, but he felt so bruised and tender by now that every touch shrieked through his flesh with harsh agony.
?Stop playing around,? Tekel said bitterly, knowing that this was just a game to the young officers. ?Look at him, he?s a kid.?
?Not a kid, Tekel,? came the gasped but defiant response. It almost broke Tekel?s heart that Senite could be so proud. So valiant. He followed Senite?s vicious gaze to the rat-faced brute towering over little Thena, who was curled into a rigid ball. ?I could take them on, one on one, but they?re cowards, they ganged up on us-?
?Senite-?
?Five against three!? Senite finished, and the heavy soldier made sure he was finished by bopping him hard on the head with his fist. The boy fell once more, and this time, he didn?t gasp or cry, but he growled.
The Bajoran boy might well have leapt up and launched himself upon the offending Cardassian in a fit of fury, but Tekel beat him to it. With a muffled thump, the scrawny teenager collided ferociously with the uniform-covered mass, and the surprise of it sent the soldier staggering backward. Not giving him an instant to collect himself, Tekel shunted into him again, and then started landing punches as rapidly as he could. His strength, however, wasn?t very impressive for his age, and positively measly compared to the might of the larger officer. He was soon sent sprawling on his back. The sun shone pitilessly in his eyes, and was soon blotted out by the dark shapes of three youthful Cardassians peering at him, marveling amusedly at his gall. Tekel tried to struggle up, but one pushed him down again sharply.
?Think you?re better than us, do you, Master Orsad?? came a sneering voice.
?I don?t go around in a group and attack kids less than half my size,? he shot back, wheezing a little. He started to wheeze a lot more when a dirt-encrusted boot pressed down on his neck. He gagged and spluttered. He heard sniggering but couldn?t see the grinning face. His vision was dimming. They wouldn?t kill him. They couldn?t, he was the Gul?s son. They wanted to scare him. He didn?t know what emotion he was feeling, he was too busy trying to breathe...
?Watch the boy!? yelled the woman standing on Heral. Tekel didn?t understand; they were already watching him, and no doubt immensely enjoying seeing him writhe. He realized a second later that she didn't mean him.
There was a sudden yelp of pain from the soldier closest to him, and his foot jerked further downward, choking Tekel even more. "No!" gasped Senite, emerging with Cardassian blood dripping from his lips and looking petrified that his efforts to help had just made things worse. Desperately, he scrabbled to dislodge the boot from Tekel's throat, and after a few tense seconds managed to unbalance the soldier so that he toppled. Tekel gasped laboriously as the pressure was released from his neck. "Tekel!" Senite cried, this time the panic in his voice meant for Tekel more than for himself.
"Run," Tekel spluttered at him, but soon they were both pinned, side by side, Senite on his front like Heral was.
"You little waifs have got a lot of nerve," said the rat-faced soldier, addressing Tekel as well as Senite.
"My father's the Gul," wheezed Tekel, shutting his eyes against the sun and gurgling through the bile pooling in his mouth.
"So maybe some unhappy Bajorans came and took out their frustration on you."
"They wouldn't be frustrated with me." The boy's voice was still weak, but confident. "Father does all he can to help them. He's a good man. They know that."
"Look, let's just leave him," said another soldier, trying to sound practical but unable to keep a trace of discomfort out of his voice. He then lowered his voice but the boys still heard him. "Orsad's never been happy with the amount of military presence here-"
"And you'll be the first ones he suspects if anything happens to me," Tekel finished for him. "Leave us now," he bargained, "and I won't tell Father how my neck go bruised."
"You had to go and stand on his neck," spat the woman at the rat-faced officer.
"Like you're so much better, grinding the little girl under your heel like dirt," he retorted.
"She is dirt!"
Tekel could feel Senite, next to him, bursting to speak out in his sister's defense, and quickly piped up, "Get going, now!"
They did leave, eventually, but not before the rat-faced soldier had given Tekel a hard kick in the side while the others went on ahead. "I'm watching you, brat," he sneered, and then stalked off after the rest of the patrol.
_________________
Warrant Officer Tekel Orsad
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer (to be)
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
When I was a kid I claimed that all the warring worlds should set aside their differences and bloody well get along. That argument still stands, only now it needs a cane.
Lorik glanced at the wall chronometer, then back at his wife. ?Perhaps they?ve lost track of time. They?re such dreamy little ones.?
?Senite knows we?re expecting them back,? Asinti piped up, appearing at her mother?s elbow and wearing an equally fretful expression.
?You?re not his keeper, Sint,? scoffed Dran.
The Kemm children were with the Orsads for the day, but had become restless around mid-afternoon and gone out to play. Now it was getting on for evening, the Gul had returned home for the day, and though Rahnos and Trella would be around soon to collect their three dear ones, no one had yet seen hide nor hair of Senite, Heral or Thena.
Ruffled by her brother?s indifference, Asinti found her face quivering as she clutched at Drianden. ?I should have gone with them,? she murmured. The only reason she hadn?t was because she and Senite hadn?t been on the best of terms recently, but despite the squabbles they were still best friends, and the young Cardassian was starting to fear she was about to be punished for her foolishness in letting Senite be put in harm?s way. Her voice dissolved into imminent tears. ?It?s my fault if anything?s happened to them...?
?You?re acting like they?re a bunch of kids!? Dran burst out. ?They can take care of themselves! Well, except for the baby.? (Thena had never quite outgrown that term.)
Lorik assured his wife and eldest daughter that Senite was more than capable of looking after himself and his sisters, but he couldn?t quite keep the doubt out of his voice.
?All the same, someone should go for them,? Drianden said briskly, then added, ?I?ll go for them.?
From his quietly watchful perch at the window, Varrim finally interjected into the conversation. ?Tekel?s already gone.?
The eldest Orsad child had felt a prickling sensation in his throat long minutes before Drianden had said anything. While the others had been fretting, or making a point not to in the case of Dran, he had slipped away unnoticed, and was now far from the house into the sun-parched, sandy wastelands outskirting the village. The Kemm children played there often. Senite had remarked to him that it was the only place in the world that felt remotely like somewhere else.
?Senite?? he called out now. ?Heral? Thena?? There was no response, and no sign of them as of yet. The wind had picked up slightly, make the sand shift restlessly about his ankles. The itching sensation in his throat seemed to solidify into a sort of lump, which stuck in his windpipe and made his eyes water. The three of them should have arrived back at least an hour ago. They always returned at that certain time, because it was always around the time Thena would start to get tired and then become moody in her weariness. Her behavior always reminded them of when they would be expected home. So why was today different?
His answer came in the form of a Cardassian military patrol. The moment he saw them, the lump in his throat jumped up and he felt bile creep into his mouth. He quickened his pace. The heat-induced waves and drifting particles of sediment in the air slightly obscured the view of the soldiers and their quarry, but somehow Tekel realized that the poor wretches they preyed on were three in number... He started to run.
?Senite, Heral!? he cried. ?Thena!? He could barely hear anything, could barely hear his own voice above the pounding of his boots on the ground and of the blood in his ears. ?Senite, Heral-?
?Tekel!? Senite screamed, his voice hampered by suppressed tears and wracked breathing. The next sound from the boy was a grunt of pain as he was kicked in the back.
All sound suddenly seemed to shrink into the distance as Tekel found his legs automatically charging forwards. ?Leave them alone!? he raged, before colliding forcefully with the young man who had just toppled Senite. Taken aback, the soldier stumbled and stared for a moment, before collecting himself and promptly giving the Gul?s son a hard shove back with an angry growl.
?Stay out of it, boy,? he warned.
?Ha!? scoffed another soldier, currently standing over a floored Heral with her heeled boot digging into the Bajoran?s back. The young girl wasn?t moving. ?That?s Orsad?s son,? Heral?s captor sneered. ?That little brat doesn?t stay out of anything.?
?Leave the children alone!? Tekel commanded in a harsh gasp. He could feel the bitter need for vengeance trembling in his hands, which were trying against his better judgment to curl themselves into fists.
?What right do they have to be here?? simmered the woman, putting a little more weight on the foot she had embedded in Heral?s back. ?They strut around in the outskirts as though they own the place, as though they?re special. I do hope you and your family haven?t been encouraging this delusion in any way,? she added in a menacing whisper.
Tekel felt his hands and face go cold and clammy as he realized what she was insinuating. Wordlessly, fearfully even, he reached out to Senite, who had clambered to his feet, and if indicating that the boy should come to him, get behind him. But before he had taken a step, one of the bulkier soldiers grabbed his shoulder and wrenched him back. Senite bit his lip so he wouldn?t cry out, but he felt so bruised and tender by now that every touch shrieked through his flesh with harsh agony.
?Stop playing around,? Tekel said bitterly, knowing that this was just a game to the young officers. ?Look at him, he?s a kid.?
?Not a kid, Tekel,? came the gasped but defiant response. It almost broke Tekel?s heart that Senite could be so proud. So valiant. He followed Senite?s vicious gaze to the rat-faced brute towering over little Thena, who was curled into a rigid ball. ?I could take them on, one on one, but they?re cowards, they ganged up on us-?
?Senite-?
?Five against three!? Senite finished, and the heavy soldier made sure he was finished by bopping him hard on the head with his fist. The boy fell once more, and this time, he didn?t gasp or cry, but he growled.
The Bajoran boy might well have leapt up and launched himself upon the offending Cardassian in a fit of fury, but Tekel beat him to it. With a muffled thump, the scrawny teenager collided ferociously with the uniform-covered mass, and the surprise of it sent the soldier staggering backward. Not giving him an instant to collect himself, Tekel shunted into him again, and then started landing punches as rapidly as he could. His strength, however, wasn?t very impressive for his age, and positively measly compared to the might of the larger officer. He was soon sent sprawling on his back. The sun shone pitilessly in his eyes, and was soon blotted out by the dark shapes of three youthful Cardassians peering at him, marveling amusedly at his gall. Tekel tried to struggle up, but one pushed him down again sharply.
?Think you?re better than us, do you, Master Orsad?? came a sneering voice.
?I don?t go around in a group and attack kids less than half my size,? he shot back, wheezing a little. He started to wheeze a lot more when a dirt-encrusted boot pressed down on his neck. He gagged and spluttered. He heard sniggering but couldn?t see the grinning face. His vision was dimming. They wouldn?t kill him. They couldn?t, he was the Gul?s son. They wanted to scare him. He didn?t know what emotion he was feeling, he was too busy trying to breathe...
?Watch the boy!? yelled the woman standing on Heral. Tekel didn?t understand; they were already watching him, and no doubt immensely enjoying seeing him writhe. He realized a second later that she didn't mean him.
There was a sudden yelp of pain from the soldier closest to him, and his foot jerked further downward, choking Tekel even more. "No!" gasped Senite, emerging with Cardassian blood dripping from his lips and looking petrified that his efforts to help had just made things worse. Desperately, he scrabbled to dislodge the boot from Tekel's throat, and after a few tense seconds managed to unbalance the soldier so that he toppled. Tekel gasped laboriously as the pressure was released from his neck. "Tekel!" Senite cried, this time the panic in his voice meant for Tekel more than for himself.
"Run," Tekel spluttered at him, but soon they were both pinned, side by side, Senite on his front like Heral was.
"You little waifs have got a lot of nerve," said the rat-faced soldier, addressing Tekel as well as Senite.
"My father's the Gul," wheezed Tekel, shutting his eyes against the sun and gurgling through the bile pooling in his mouth.
"So maybe some unhappy Bajorans came and took out their frustration on you."
"They wouldn't be frustrated with me." The boy's voice was still weak, but confident. "Father does all he can to help them. He's a good man. They know that."
"Look, let's just leave him," said another soldier, trying to sound practical but unable to keep a trace of discomfort out of his voice. He then lowered his voice but the boys still heard him. "Orsad's never been happy with the amount of military presence here-"
"And you'll be the first ones he suspects if anything happens to me," Tekel finished for him. "Leave us now," he bargained, "and I won't tell Father how my neck go bruised."
"You had to go and stand on his neck," spat the woman at the rat-faced officer.
"Like you're so much better, grinding the little girl under your heel like dirt," he retorted.
"She is dirt!"
Tekel could feel Senite, next to him, bursting to speak out in his sister's defense, and quickly piped up, "Get going, now!"
They did leave, eventually, but not before the rat-faced soldier had given Tekel a hard kick in the side while the others went on ahead. "I'm watching you, brat," he sneered, and then stalked off after the rest of the patrol.
_________________
Warrant Officer Tekel Orsad
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer (to be)
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
When I was a kid I claimed that all the warring worlds should set aside their differences and bloody well get along. That argument still stands, only now it needs a cane.