Chapter 3
That Night
The Hounslow Residence
Southern France
Earth
With dinner over, Ba’el and his guest headed outside, a glass of Romulan ale in hand. One of the first things Ba’el had done when he returned to his mother’s home was to restore the garden. Enclosed by a high wall, the garden was now cloaked in darkness, but during the day it was a splendid vista of colours. Even now, though they were hidden, the plants and flowers filled the air with a heady aroma of life.
Both men stood for a moment, both staring up at the stars. Ba’el cradled his glass in both hands, enjoying the silence. The evening had gone well, so far. Kovat had held to his side of the bargain and the conversation had revolved around happy memories from their times in the cell – mad escapes, insane plans, simple moments spent around a camp fire on some Beta Quadrant planet, waiting for the sun to come up. For a few hours, at least, Ba’el had almost been able to forget what the war had cost him.
Then Kovat spoke. "Don't you miss it?" he asked. Ba’el’s heart sank.
Here we go. Ba’el decided not to allow his old friend to come at him from a tangent. "Why don't you cut the crap and tell me why you really came here, Jas?"
The Cardassian turned away from the starscape. His face had changed – Jasad Kovat, the friend and former ally, was gone. Jasad Kovat the Starfleet Admiral, a man charged with great responsibilities, now stood in his place. He was all business, as he said, "I want you to join Starfleet."
Ba’el shook his head. "Not going to happen."
"At least hear me out."
"For what?” Ba’el snapped. “So you can give me some speech about honor and freedom and responsibility? I've heard it all before, Jas. From you, from Carlson, and Dana, and Ly'et. I told you then, I've served my time." He looked off into the shadows at the bottom of the garden, his eyes seeming to pierce the darkness. "I've paid the price."
"We know all of that, Bay. And we respect it. You know I wouldn't ask this of you if I had any other choice."
"There are always other choices, Jas. I learned that after Lutara.”
The spectre of that mission, and its aftermath, hung between them for a long moment, like a physical presence. Ba'el went back to staring at the stars as Kovat gathered himself.
"This isn't just any mission, you know? We want you to command the Redemption."
"Never heard of her."
"You wouldn’t have. She's fresh out of space dock. The first in a new line. Restoration-class."
"Subtle,” Ba’el snorted. “Redemption. Restoration. What's next? USS We're-Very-Sorry?"
"She's a good ship, Bay. Top of the line. Like one of the ships we would have built before the Occupation. Better than the Enterprise even.” He paused. “We're thinking of making her the flag."
Ba’el couldn’t help glancing at Kovat. "You're offering me the flagship?" Kovat nodded. Ba’el shook his head. "You must be desperate."
"You want the truth? Yes, we are."
"But why? Why do you want me to join your little toy navy so bad?"
A touch of heat seeped into Kovat's next words. "To tell you the truth, Bay, I don't. I don't need the grief. I don't need the guilt."
"Then why the hell are you..."
"It's the Laurentine."
"What?" Now Ba’el was totally confused.
"Two weeks ago, the Hegemony opened negotiations with the Federation. They have agreed to allow one of our ships to be posted to Onyx. We already had Redemption ready to go, crew chosen, captain selected. It seemed like the perfect opportunity. Then, a few days ago, the bastards added a condition. You."
"What are you talking about, Jas?"
"The Hegemony will only allow us to send a ship if you command it."
Ba'el didn't know what to say. The Laurentine Hegemony lay on the far side of the Federation. They had seized a large chunk of what had once been Klingon space during the Occupation, allying themselves with the Dominion. As far as anyone had been able to tell, they had arrived from outside the galaxy, crossing the intergalactic rift in order to flee some unnamed foe. When the Dominion turned against them, the Hegemony joined the fledgling Resistance. Their help had been instrumental in the last years of the war. After the end of the Occupation, though, the Hegemony had vanished back beyond their borders, refusing each and every attempt the Federation had made to reach out to them.
"Why?" Ba’el asked after a moment.
"I was hoping you could tell me."
"I have no idea.” He wracked his brains, trying to think of anything that could have ? this request. He couldn’t. “I mean I fought alongside a few of them during the War, same as anyone in the Resistance. I spent a few months aboard the Onyx Station when we were designing the Enterprise. But from there to making a personal request for my presence on this mission..." He shook his head. It makes no sense.
"You know how important this could be, Bay,” Kovat pressed. “We've already lost Andor, Vulcan and the Klingons, not to mention the dozens of independant worlds that chose to go their own way after the Occupation. The Earth Conference was a disaster. We can barely call ourselves the Federation of Allied Worlds."
"Now with the Klingons making forays into our territory, the Andorians proclaiming a new empire, the Gorn and the Breen baring their teeth... We can't afford another enemy on our doorstep. This is the first sign that the Hegemony may be willing to talk. If this goes well, we may be able to negotiate a more permanent alliance. Prophets, we may even be able to bring them into the Federation."
Kovat lapsed into silence, waiting. Ba'el closed his eyes, processing what his friend had told him. Part of him felt for his old cell leader. They had both fought hard for their freedom from the Dominion, only to discover that that freedom was not as simple as it had seemed. Both had taken different paths at the end of the war, but their initial plan had been the same.
But I made a promise, he told himself. I can't go back. I won't.
Finally, he shook his head. "I'm sorry Jas. You're going to have to find another way."
"There is no other way!” his old friend burst out. “Don't you have any sense of duty left? Your people need you!"
"My people are buried at the bottom of this garden, Admiral,” Ba’el said coldly. “I abandoned them once, I won't do it again."
"They're gone, Bay. Elera, Torvol, they died. You weren't here. How long are you going to punish yourself?"
"As long as it takes."
"The other Admirals were right.” Kovat waved his hand dismissively. “You are nothing but a shadow. You’re just waiting to die, aren’t you? Well I have news for you, Bay. You didn't die. You lived. That may hurt, but maybe it's about time you realised that we all lost people in the Occupation. We carry on. We get on with living. It isn't easy, it's damned painful in fact. But it's what people do. If you can't, then maybe it's time for you to end it."
His old friend turned, walking back into the house. He paused in the doorway, not looking at Ba'el as he spoke.
"There are millions of beings suffering out there, Bay. Picking up the pieces. You may have a chance here to make sure that the galaxy they wake up to every morning is a safer one than it could have been. Ask yourself what Elera would have wanted you to do. Think about all the other families who might be torn apart if the Hegemony decide we're a more tantalising victim than we are allies."
Without another word, he was gone. Leaving Ba'el to the stars and the silence and the guilt.
XXX
Once Ba'el had cleared away the plates and tidied the kitchen, he went back outside. He stood for a moment, enjoying the cool air and looking up at the stars. His mind echoed with Kovat’s last words – all of the other families who would suffer as he had suffered if another war broke out now. Could he let that happen? Could he turn his back on Jas, on everything they had fought so hard to gain? And for what? For the first time since Goltara, he actually wondered who he was doing it all for. For his wife and his son? Or for himself?
Finally, he made a decision. Slowly, he walked down the path towards the bottom of the garden, pushing through the fringe of caspa roots, their tendril-like leaves brushing over his shoulder.
They stood beneath a willow tree, their white brilliance like a beacon in the moonlight. Two marble stones, set in the ground. As he reached them, Ba'el fell to his knees in front of them, oblivious to the tears that had begun to fall.
ELERA SARINE
LOVING WIFE AND MOTHER
Her light will shine upon the Valley of Fire
TORVOL SARINE
BELOVED SON
His light shone too brightly and faded too fast.
There were no bodies underneath, of course. They had never been found. The blood had been enough. Now, only the headstones remained as markers.
"I'm sorry," Ba'el whispered. "I'm so sorry." He bowed his head and began to weep.
There was no reply.
XXX
Admiral Jasad Kovat walked into his hotel room in New York in a foul mood. Ba’el’s stubborn refusal had been bad enough. When he had reached his transport, though, he had found another message from the Company, pressing for news on his efforts to convince his former friend to join the Redemption mission. He had erased it without responding. He wasn’t ready yet to give up, but he knew his time was running out.
Throwing his jacket over the chair, Jasad headed for the fresher. A good long shower would clear his mind, help him gain a little clarity. Afterwards, he would ask the Prophets to guide him. He was halfway to the little shower room when he heard the beeping.
He stopped in his tracks. The beeping was coming from the room’s comm terminal. He hadn’t told anyone which hotel he was staying in. No one, except… He hurried over and pressed the connection button. There was a slight lag in the transmission, then Ba'el's face appeared.
By the Prophets, he looks as if he's seen a ghost.
"Bay! What is it? "
"I... I've reconsidered. What you said. What I said. I… I think it’s about time I did something to make sure no one goes through what I did. If you are absolutely sure that you still trust me. I know how people felt after the Enterprise, and… Well, I’m in. If you want me. What do I have to do?"
As Kovat arranged a rendez-vous with Bay the next day at the Paris Transport Hub, he felt a surge of relief. The Company would be pleased.
And he would really have hated ordering his old friend's execution.