Path: newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!elnk-atl-nf1!newsfeed.earthlink.net!border2.nntp.dca.giganews.com!border1.nntp.dca.giganews.com!nntp.giganews.com!ngpeer.news.aol.com!audrey-m1.news.aol.com!not-for-mail Lines: 211 X-Admin: news@aol.com From: sisko2374@aol.com (Sisko2374) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Date: 08 Aug 2004 11:42:47 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Subject: REP DS9 "Casualties" [PG-13] 1/1 Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=utf-8 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit Message-ID: <20040808074247.16825.00001860@mb-m20.aol.com> Xref: news.earthlink.net alt.startrek.creative:160314 X-Received-Date: Sun, 08 Aug 2004 04:42:58 PDT (newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net) REP DS9 "Casualties" [PG-13] Title: "Casualties" Author: Sisko2374 Series: DS9 Rating: PG-13 Part: 1/1 Summary: At the beginning of the occupation of Bajor a young Cardassian Feron's chest body armor seemed to explode in his face. His combat suit's force field instantly formed a protective bubble around his head but not quickly enough to shield his eyes from the deflected phaser blast. Temporarily blinded, a guttural cry escaped his throat. Adrenalin coursed through his veins. As if in slow motion, he threw himself around the corner of the village's ruined temple to the ground and safety. Landing face down atop a pile of bricks, he felt strangely detached and distant from his own body. The combat suit's sensors responded perfectly, administering a small dose of an anti-shock agent. His vision clearing, Feron propped himself up against the crumbled wall of the temple. He was stupid. Leaving the force field protecting his head in the ‘off‘ position allowed for better visibility, but had nearly cost him his life. If that phaser blast had been just a little higher... "Feron! Feron! Are you all right? Where's the sniper? I can't get a reading!" Even through the communicator, Hirik's shrill, annoying voice grated on his nerves. But for once Feron also found it somehow reassuring. "Yes, yes, I'm all right, Hirik. I'm not sure where the sniper is. That phaser blast fried my spotting circuits." Hirik cursed. "How do these Bajoran terrorist scum scramble the weapons detectors? We've sent three pacification teams through this village this month and they didn't find a thing! Bajorans aren't supposed to have the technical know how to do that." Feron snorted. "Well, obviously they've learned, haven't they?" Hirik had such a thick skull. He devoutly believed in Cardassian superiority. But his rank placed him in command now since the sniper had killed their commander. A single well aimed phaser blast had decapitated their squad leader with near surgical precision as the patrol casually strolled down the street, luxuriating in the little warmth offered by Bajor's sun. It was so damn cold on Bajor. "Request permission to turn off head shield, sir!" one of the conscripts at the rear had requested. Feron had been walking to the right of the NCO and noticed him glancing up at the sun, a wisp of a fleeting smile on his face. "It is a fine summer day isn't it? Even for Bajor. All right, there's no sign of terrorists here. Request granted." Everyone switched off their shields, including the commander. Smiles swept over the squad as fresh air and warm sunlight caressed their pale faces. Seconds later, the commander's head tumbled from his body, which managed to take a few steps forward before it fell. As the squad scattered for cover, Feron threw himself up against a wall of the collapsed village temple. Without even checking his weapon detector, he hoisted his rifle, stepped around the corner and aimed for where he thought the blast had come from. But the sniper was quick and sent him reeling back around the temple with a single chest shot. Now, as he sat against the wall, Feron realized he had no wish to die in this wretched little Bajoran village so far from home. He couldn't even remember its name. "Hirik, you better tell the squad to switch their shields back on if they haven't already." "Squad, shields on!" "Listen, judging from the angle that I think the commander and I were hit, I think the sniper is in that warehouse east of the temple, across the street. We better nail him before he moves." Hirik seemed unphased by Feron suggesting orders for the squad. Maybe Hirik wanted to live too. Feron heard Hirik giving the order for the squad to load phaser grenades on the rifles. Then the order to zero in on the warehouse and fire. There was a chorus of ‘crump' sounds as the tiny rockets propelled their deadly payloads several hundred feet into the sky toward the sun, then arched and came down on the roof of the warehouse. The stone building collapsed in a thunderous blast of white light and heat that shook the ground, raining a shower of rocky debris on the squad and the town. Hirik gave the order to advance. Under the rolling, grey dust cloud, the squad scurried across the street toward the rubble of the warehouse by ones and twos, alternating between providing cover, then advancing. "We got him!" Hirik was jubilant. Feron found him crouching near the edge of the rubble. Arms and legs poked out of the jagged pile of stones. Feron crouched low next to him and shook his head. The debris cloud was clearing. "I'm not so sure. There's a lot of bodies here. These are probably the warehouse workers. Bajoran snipers usually like to find some place to hole up alone." Hirik turned and stared him in the face. "Since when did you become the expert on snipers? Anyway, you said he was in the warehouse." "I said I thought he was in the warehouse. I couldn't be sure." Hirik stood up. "Well, then, you've got some explaining to do to the Prefect. You know how he feels about unnecessary casualties. He doesn't like collateral damage." Feron stood up as well. Rays of sunlight streamed through the dispersing dust cloud. "You gave the order to fire the rocket grenades." Hirik's face was at the beginning of a snarl when a phaser beam on high power cut through his body armor in a fireworks display of sparks and smoke. Feron could see through the large hole that had formed in Hirik's chest, his mouth agape as his body fell backward toward the rubble. "Sniper! Everybody down!" Feron yelled as he threw himself on the debris. He crawled behind the remnants of a wall. His face brushed against a bloody Bajoran hand, severed at the wrist. Pushing the hand aside, he pressed himself against the shelter of the low wall remnant. Was this really the same village they had passed through only days before? Then they had been assigned to escort a Cardassian relief convoy bringing food to the mostly unemployed villagers. The Prefect thought it was good public relations. Show that the Cardassians were the ones who cared about the Bajoran people, not the terrorists. Win hearts and minds. Feron had been appalled at how hundreds of Bajorans from miles around had swamped the vehicles passing out food. Bajorans scrambled over one another, fighting like voles for the meal packets that were tossed to them like scraps. He asked his commander if there was a better way to distribute food to the Bajorans. The officer simply smirked and replied, "Probably." These Bajorans just didn't make any sense. One moment they'd be begging you and fighting each other for food like animals. Then the next they'd be calling down the curse of their Prophets upon you under their breath. But at the edge of the crowd that day he had seen a little Bajoran girl, perhaps no more than twelve or thirteen, covered in filthy rags and unsuccessfully begging older Bajorans leaving with bags of food. For some reason, perhaps it was because he was so far from home for so long, he thought she resembled his little sister, in a Bajoran sort of way. She even had the straight black hair and pale blue eyes of his sister. He went up to her and asked her name. She was fearful but dutifully answered. Rajaya, she said. Why was she here? Where were her parents? Her mother was dead and her father was working in the ore processing center on Terok Nor. Children weren't allowed there and she had no other family. She was of one of the lower Bajoran castes, so there was no one to take care of her. Feron was moved by her story. Did she know that he had a little sister back on Cardassia just her age, that looked very much like her? The girl shook her head no, smiling nervously. Then Feron reached into his utility pack and gave her his week's food rations. He wouldn't starve, he could always scrounge off of Hirik. The little girl's face lit up as he handed her the packets. "Thank you sir!" she burbled in her best broken Cardassian, then scurried away. Feron smiled at the memory. He would never forget the look of gratitude on her face. War was hard on everyone, Bajorans and Cardassians alike. It felt good to relieve someone's suffering, even if only for a little while. A phaser blast brought him out of his reverie. A scream, then some one behind him shouted "Tarek's hit!" There was a hole in the wall in front of Feron at face level. Now he peered through it hoping to catch sight of the next shot from the sniper. But maybe there wouldn't be one. There had already been four shots from the sniper at his present location. If the sniper was experienced he knew that the time to move was long over due. With every shot, the danger of being spotted grew for the sniper. Feron poked his rifle through the hole in the wall and waited. A movement in a doorway down the street caught his attention. A shadowy figure emerged carrying a long package...or perhaps a rifle? As the figure slipped away, hugging the wall, Feron took aim and fired. The figure went down, the long package tumbling into the street. Confident but still cautious, Feron emerged and crept down the street along the wall of buildings. As he neared the still body, rifle ready, he saw the package on the dusty street. It had fallen partially open, the barrel of a Cardassian phaser rifle sticking out. He stared at the small crumpled form face down on the street, a neat hole in the back. Something was wrong about this picture. The sniper was very small, even for a Bajoran. Kneeling, he turned the body over. When he saw the face, he turned aside, retching violently in dry heaves that wouldn't stop. The pale blue eyes of the girl he had befriended a few days before stared vacantly at the Bajoran sky. END NewMessage: