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“Indeed,” Keeve murmured. He thought he remembered that Bajin and Cheren had lost a child, some years ago, but it was possible he had them confused with another couple. A great many babies born on Valo II had never made it to adulthood. He arranged his knees so they would not bump against Bajin’s. The flyer had just jolted into takeoff mode.
The compartment began to vibrate as the thrusters took the ship quickly beyond the atmosphere. The turbulence was slight, even in the outdated ship. Jas had maintained his fleet as well as he could afford. This ship was once one of the best flyers that could be had, and she was still in fine form. She sailed out into the ope
Keeve looked to the other man. “Is your father on this transport?”
Bajin shook his head. “No, he isn’t.”
“He didn’t stay behind, did he?”
“Oh, no,” Bajin replied. “My parents were among the first to return to Bajor when Jas made the offer to transport us. Father contacted me two days ago, through a third party, to tell me that they had returned to Korto.” Bajin’s smile faltered. “He said to be in for a bit of shock when we land…”
“Yes, so too said Jas Holza.”
Keeve was silent for long hours, and the Darrah family spoke among themselves in muted tones, making tentative plans for where they would stay once they arrived on Bajor. Their conversation was heavy with overtones of unspoken hesitation; they were taking a huge risk and committing themselves to the unknown.
“Look.” Keeve interrupted the family’s uncertain pla
The two boys tried to peer around Keeve’s shoulder, and he rose to his feet so that they could have a better view of the planet as it came closer into view. Gradually, the twinkling speck expanded until Bajor’s swirling seas were clearly visible. Everyone in the compartment was rapt as they watched their home planet fill the tiny window.
“We’re almost there,” Bajin declared, his voice trembling slightly with the emotion he was trying to conceal. He turned to his wife, and she covered his hand with hers. The planet seemed to sparkle like a gem as the ship came closer still, bright with unspoken promise.
“She belongs to us, now,” Keeve said, almost to himself, but the others in his compartment turned to him to smile and nod their agreement. “We will never lose her again.”
The ship jolted slightly as it tore through Bajor’s atmosphere, dropping back to real gravity, and one of the bundles stowed in the compartment above Bajin’s head threatened to tumble into Keeve’s lap. But the carrier righted itself quickly, and was setting down at Kendra, where most of the passengers were to disembark. Keeve was staying on until he made it to Ashalla. Jaro Essa and Kalem Apren had traveled there already to organize an election for the provisional government.
“Good-bye, Bajin. Good-bye, Cheren.” Keeve nodded to the children, whose names he could not immediately recall. He addressed Bajin directly. “Please, tell your father—” He stopped, for he was not sure how to adequately summarize all that he wanted to say. It seemed suddenly too great a task to pass his goodwill on to another resident of the world where he had sought refuge all these years, and Keeve was nearly overcome with the emotion that he had been denying himself since the first rumors began to fly. It hit him all at once, with a stu
“I will tell him,” Bajin said, a moment of unspoken understanding passing through the two men like an electric current.
Keeve nodded in wordless gratitude, and then Bajin and his family disembarked for their shuttle transport to Korto. The door to the compartment closed once again, leaving Keeve alone to stare out the window, taking in the ruined scenery all around him, the world that would have to be rebuilt. The ship lurched on its thrusters again, to take Keeve Falor to Dahkur. To take him home.
EPILOGUE
The gathering crowd of Bajorans bobbed and swayed, people standing on their toes or swiveling their heads so that they might see over the heads and shoulders of the people in front of them. Their varied dress represented the myriad provinces and walks of life from which they had come, all over the planet. Though a great many were clad in shabby rags or overpatched tunics and dresses, many were wearing the very best clothes they owned for the occasion, and Odo noticed more than a few wearing matching uniforms that he supposed belonged to the newly-restored Militia.
First Minister Kalem Apren had already delivered his inaugural address, and Odo had watched curiously as the people in the crowd reacted to his a
Now another official, who had the unfortunate privilege of following Kalem’s volatile a
Jaro Essa’s voice was distinct and pleasant, but his words held traces of fire, and the portion of the crowd that was still listening responded noisily to his address.
“My Bajoran brothers and sisters—I was here fifty years ago when a group of aliens arrived on our world, with their proposals for a means to help us, to assist us in modernizing our beloved and traditional ways of life—”
Shouts of anger, the older people in the crowd crying out the fiercest.
“But we are wiser now, and never again will we allow any group of outsiders to dictate for us how we are to run our world…”
Odo quickly recognized that Jaro’s speech was meant to do more than just address the new Militia; apparently he did not agree with his colleague’s decision to bring in the Federation, either.
Which may be exactly why we need them…If so many Bajorans were in disagreement over how to run their world, was it unlikely that opposing factions would emerge? Could a civil war be on the horizon?
“…the new Militia is comprised of the very best fighters currently on our world, people who fought bravely and tirelessly for Bajor’s freedom…”
Odo was troubled at the idea of any conflict lingering behind on Bajor after the Cardassians had finally been chased away, but he laid his concerns temporarily to rest when he recognized the profile of a man in a brown Militia uniform. The Bajoran looked out of place in military clothing instead of a worn tunic, but Odo knew right away that it was Gran Tolo, the man who had been in the resistance on Terok Nor. He hesitated for a moment before deciding to approach him.
“Excuse me. Gran Tolo?” he said hesitantly, and then took an uncertain step back. How would he be remembered by the Bajorans who had been on the station?
“Odo!” Gran replied, looking immediately happy to see the shape-shifter. “Thank the Prophets you managed to get off the station!”
“You’ve…you’ve joined the Militia,” Odo said, at a loss for anything else to say.