Star Trek: Terok Nor 02: Night of the Wolves by S.D. Perry Page B

to make your lives a little easier. They’re not going to expect you to be trying to…to fix the thing, right?”
    Taryl’s mouth twisted. “Lac and I agree with you,” she said. “But Seefa and some of the others are worried that the Cardies will find out that we’ve been using balon to power our impulse and sub-impulse vessels—ships that we aren’t authorized to be flying in the first place.”
    “How would they—?”
    “We’ve been shunting balon to the surface at a point near where the mining facility was abandoned—just a stone’s throw from here, in a skimmer. If the Cardies were to find our laboratory, the place where we fuel our raiders—they probably wouldn’t continue to underestimate our abilities so much.”
    Holem frowned. He could see the logic well enough, but he couldn’t bear to simply ignore the warp vessel here, just waiting to be fully excavated and repaired. With a warp ship, they could finally regain access to Prophet’s Landing, or Valo II, or any of the other pre-occupation Bajoran settlements. They could conduct a serious assault on occupying forces if they could network with other Bajorans outside the system. Maybe they could even organize an offworld attack.
    That would surely make waves among the spoonheads, Lenaris thought, with a helpless grin. He avoided the persistent voice that told him he just wanted to have a crack at flying a warp vessel. This was for the resistance. For his people, his world.
    “She’s been here this long without being detected,” Lenaris said. “I say the benefits outweigh the risks. Let’s just have a look inside. If the damage isn’t too bad, maybe we won’t even need Tiven Cohr. I know a couple of things about simple flyer repair—if we just put our heads together…”
    Lac didn’t need any persuading, but Taryl lingered behind for another minute before she finally succumbed to what she really wanted to do, anyway, and followed them inside the ship.

    Vedek Opaka had set about on this day to tidy and sweep the dust from her stone cottage. Fasil had offered to help, but she sent him off to be with his friends, to enjoy the weather. Summer had finally come to the valley, which meant both good news and bad for the Bajorans who called it home. More and more people went without proper food and shelter with each passing year, and summer was a time for respite from the elements and the inevitably lean colder months. But the hot weather also meant more Cardassian activity on the surface. Opaka knew that many of the local resistance fighters chose to spend the summertime in hiding, plotting their next moves for the winter, when the Cardassian troops would again be at their weakest.
    She’d learned as much from some of the people she’d been meeting. Opaka had taken the warming weather as her cue to begin meeting with the scattered groups of people in the valley who did not attend services: the elderly who could not travel far from their camps, the more cynical and despondent Bajorans who believed the Prophets had abandoned them, and of course the restless young people who had begun to live like nomads—many of whom fought in the resistance. These were the people, Opaka had decided, who most needed to hear the message. She’d begun to travel regularly to the camps on the outskirts of the village on days when her duties were light, speaking to whoever would listen. She didn’t preach so much as try to make connections, to remind people that the Prophets were real and that Bajor had a future, and she had been pleased with the mostly positive reception.
    She had changed the bedding, dusted and swept the result out the cottage’s front door. She propped the door open and went to wrangle the wood-and-glass panel that covered the tall window near the roof, to air the cottage out. As she turned from the window, she started a bit when she saw the silhouette of a man standing in the doorway, backlit by the afternoon sun.
    “Kai Arin,” she said,