Rising Son

by S. D. Perry

  Day 59, night. A lot has happened…. I don’t want to catch up on everything, though. Today was bad, it was a bad surprise, and I don’t really want to talk about it, but I have to get it out, at least part of it.

  Since I’ve been aboard, we’ve stopped at four abandoned Dominion outposts to run salvage—one offline temp station and three surface settlements—and I went along on two of the surface ones. It was strange, both those times, walking through those desolate places, looking for stuff, but all things considered, I wasn’t disturbed; they were just empty buildings, random locations. Even knowing that second time that the land once belonged to somebody else, that the Jem’Hadar had forced relocation on the original owners…I mean, of course I thought it was bad, but I also reminded myself what Dez said—the Jem’Hadar are back inside the Dominion now, those people can come back, and most of them aren’t interested in ship parts or surplus fuel tanks. Taking that stuff doesn’t hurt anybody, I told myself, I told myself that I was sure I could make myself feel terrible, thinking about all of the people the war displaced, but what good would it do? Dez’s right, he’s right, but I’m getting sidetracked, that’s not the point.

  Today, this evening, we reached a planet without a name, one on the seemingly endless list of places to check for salvage. Dez said that the planet had been colonized five or six years ago, and that the Jem’Hadar had taken it over, and that was all he knew about it. The team was me, Facity, Dez, Pif, and Brad, a basic three-point salvage survey—ops, maintenance, and quarters. First, check out the designated ops building, see how thorough they were, pulling out—did they get all of the secondary optical and communication boards, were the sensor line patches yanked?…It’s mostly small stuff that they might have forgotten, but it adds up. Second, look over any maintenance areas, particularly where they might have kept transport shuttles or land hoppers; that’s where the best salvage comes from and also where weapons were usually kept, near the transports. Third, living quarters—but only if there’s evidence that Dominion allies were present, beyond the Founders’ direct subjects. Most of these outposts were strictly Jem’Hadar and Vorta, neither species likely to keep personal valuables. But allied Gamma species might, like the Bwada, or the Hunters.

  Easy, common sense. So we beamed down, evening for us, afternoon on the planet…which felt as lonely and empty as any place I’ve been in my life. It was beautiful, too; we’d transported down to a wide, slightly elevated clearing a few dozen meters from the settlement buildings, and the air was clean and sweet, and there were tall grasses everywhere, and mountains in the distance. Facity pointed out that the clearing had once been a farmer’s field—that we were, in fact, standing at the edge of a whole run of fields. The grasses were tall, we could only see a few bare lines here and there, but Facity said that from the Even , you could see a clear grid pattern of irrigation trenches. She said that someone put a lot of work into it, and I remember thinking, “What a shame,” but I was also excited to be on another salvage run, hoping to find something valuable. Once, years before the war, Dez found a glove stuffed with jewels on a salvage run. Two years ago, the Even found a shuttle that was being repaired, left behind during an emergency evac. Prees fixed it in less than an hour. Pif once came across a secret cache of premium bloodwine. Most of the rest of the crew is bored by them, but this was only my third salvage, and I was hoping to find something valuable. Too bad about the farmers, right?

  We did the survey. There were five buildings in the small compound, all knocked-together Dominion prefab, no more than a couple of years old…and it didn’t take long to see that there was nothing left. Brad, Dez, and I checked out ops, and they’d stripped out everything, down to the light panel connectors. We went back outside to wait for Pif and Fac, they were looking at maintenance, and I was disappointed, but it was such a nice afternoon, I felt pretty good. So quiet, such a lovely, quiet place. Dez was saying we should invite the rest of the crew down for the fresh air, and I couldn’t tell if he was joking, and then Pif and Facity came walking up—and she was wearing two Bajoran earrings. They were bent and dented but still pretty, the damaged chains still shining.

  “Look what I found behind the maintenance bay,” she said, pulling her hair back so we could see, and then I knew where we were.

  Everyone started asking if I was okay, it must have shown on my face, and I don’t remember if I said anything or not, then. I had Facity show me where she’d found the earrings—there were pieces of twenty or thirty of them in the gap between the industrial incinerator and where the feeding belt had been, the pieces smashed into the dirt—and then I walked back to the field, and got on my knees, and saw the untended katterpod beans that had been grown over. There was kava in the next field over, also overrun by the wild grass.

  New Bajor had just been starting out when the Dominion had decided to attack, only a few hundred colonists, I think. I remember that it happened when I was actually in the Gamma Quadrant, that ill-fated science survey project with Nog, and Quark, and Dad. It was the first time any of us saw a Jem’Hadar, I remember. When we got back to the station, we found out that the Dominion had made their first overt acts of war against the Alpha Quadrant, blowing up several ships on “their” side of the wormhole—and wiping out New Bajor, killing every last unarmed colonist. People were mourning, and talking about war, and getting ready to fight or run—for me, it was the event that signaled the beginning of those long, bad years.

  I told most of that to Dez, sitting in the overgrown bean field, with the wind blowing ripples in the grass, and the mild afternoon sun shining down. I told him it made me feel sick to be there, and so we left—and though he wanted to talk about it, I could see that he wanted to help, I came straight back here and took a long shower instead. I didn’t tell him that I felt sick because I suddenly wanted—I want—to go home, I want to see the people I grew up with. The people I spent the war depending on, and caring about. And I didn’t, couldn’t tell him that I felt horrible about what we were doing. Like I said, I can see that he’s right, mentally, logically, I know that there’s nothing wrong with salvaging—but facts aside, that’s not how I feel, not right now. Even if we’re only taking from the Dominion, even if the people were only relocated, not slaughtered like the innocents of New Bajor, we’re still making money from the aftermath of pain. He doesn’t care, he just doesn’t understand.

  I’ll feel better tomorrow, I’m sure I’ll be able to put things back into perspective; but right now I just want to go home, I want to be with people I know, who know what’s right. Who know me.

  Dez sat and waited for everyone to arrive in the conference room, occasionally shooting warning looks at Feg and Triv, who were grinning much too widely. Neither of them had chula eyes, as Facity liked to say, a Wadi game that sometimes required keeping one’s luck from showing in one’s expression. When Jake walked in, both of the Ferengi brothers were practically jumping out of their seats, making Dez wish he hadn’t called for a full assembly. Still, the secret had to hold for only another few minutes.

  As soon as Feg had let him know, Dez had called the gathering himself, then asked Srral to watch the bridge. He didn’t even tell Facity what the sudden meeting was about when they met in the hall outside, vaguely suggesting that he had more information about their next job, the treasure hunt on Hw17. It was childish, he supposed, but he wanted everyone to be as happily surprised as he had been by Feg’s report.

  The crew straggled in, singly and in pairs, taking their traditionally assigned places. Jake and Coamis came in together, talking about the web-room program they’d just left, some dig or another. In the almost six weeks since Drang, the young men had spent a number of hours in the web rooms. Coamis had been informally teaching Jake about some of the more famous archeological expeditions in the Gamma Quadrant, and how to recognize the style of artifact from each…and Jake had been teaching Coamis and some of the other interested crew members how to play baseball, a game from Jake’s planet. Dez didn’t care muc
h for it himself, too active, but he liked watching…and liked that Jake was feeling so at ease with the crew, and they with him. Coamis was even reconsidering his decision to leave when they reached Ee, having started to fit in better. Dez knew it was in no small part due to Jake’s influence; Coamis might not stay on, but Jake belonged on the Even.

  If he’d just stop talking about going home…. He dida lot of that, wondering aloud what his father’s wife, Kasidy, would say about something, or his friend Nog, or the serial being, Dax. Well. There was still plenty of time for Jake to change his own mind, too, and today’s meeting would help forward the notion—if not in Jake’s mind, then certainly in the minds of the crew, whose influence would surely help. After Jake’s unhappy, homesick reaction a week ago to the planet where those colonists had died, Dez wanted him to know that he had friends here, too, good friends. Jake had withdrawn a bit since then, hadn’t seemed quite as talkative…but Dez was sure it was temporary.

  Although she was last, as expected, Prees didn’t keep them waiting for too long. She and Pri’ak had finished inventorying the latest equipment salvage the night before, from a damaged freighter they’d come across two days back, abandoned by the Dominion.

  Not that we need to be picking up scraps for a while, Dez thought, standing up as Prees took her chair. They would anyway, of course; the Even’s crew had happened across too many profitable extras that way to just give it up, particularly in the weeks since the end of the conflict—cases of contraband supplies and weapons, forgotten or misplaced, equipment upgrade possibles…scavenging parts wasn’t glamorous, but it was a mainstay of the retrieval business.

  Dez smiled at his crew, wanting to tell them immediately, also wanting to draw it out. He opted for something in between.

  “As you know, we don’t have anything big scheduled before we reach Ee,” Dez said. “We still have two Dominion posts to look at, down from five—Thijmen’s team got to the others, it seems—and there’s the hunt for the jettisoned cargo on Hw17, in a few weeks…and if we’re lucky, we’ll get the contracts that we’re currently bidding on.” The Ahswidus cup had gone to another rival team, but one of Off-Zel’s vases was being sought by a private collector named Toff, and the Rodulans were trying to get back several of their early basotiles. Both were offering good money to the crew who could come through for them.

  Dez smiled directly at Jake, sitting next to Coamis. “But even if those fall through, even if we don’t make another half paeg, dirak, or sto in the coming months, I know we’ll have a fine time hunting…and I’m certain it will help ease our minds, having the two thousand, seven hundred and fifty paegs that our new friend Jake Sisko has brought in for us.”

  Shocked expressions…and dawning grins, all around the table.

  “The offer on the box came in today, from a collector who will be meeting us on Ee,” Dez said, and nodded at Feg. “I’m sure our accountants will be happy to provide the details, upon request. And since I have no other ship’s business that even comes close to being as important…meeting adjourned.”

  Immediately, the entire room was up and moving, questions being fired at Feg and Triv, Jake being heartily congratulated…and while he seemed to be enjoying the warm attention, he didn’t seem as happy as Dez had expected. Something was missing from Jake’s smile, which was broad but not beaming. Dez had hoped that making such a strong financial contribution to the ship—making his new friends so happy—might make him feel better about missing the old ones.

  Maybe it wasn’t homesickness that had been troubling him. Dez felt a flash of frustration, watching Jake’s not-wide-enough smile as Triv chatted away at him. What was it? He’d worked so hard to make Jake comfortable on the Even, and for the most part, Jake seemed content. A few times in the past two months, he’d noticed some discomfort here and there…maybe…Dez frowned, thinking. Remembering the Yaron.

  Glessin and Aslylgof both departed soon after, but everyone else stayed around for the next little while, talking about the offer, speculating on what they might use their share for, recounting their own experiences on Drang. Dez kept an eye on Jake, paying close attention to the young man’s reactions to what was being said…and as the spontaneous party started to break up, Dez decided that his developing theory on Jake’s discontent was correct.

  I think I know how to fix it, too. He should have seen it coming. As he’d told Jake early on, people primarily got into the retrieval business for two reasons, money and excitement. He’d known all along that Jake didn’t care about the money, and had assumed that the excitement would be enough to sustain his interest. It hadn’t occurred to Dez that the financial aspect might actually be offensive to Jake in some way, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. It was a little disheartening, that Jake hadn’t felt free to express his disdain…

  …but he didn’t want to hurt my feelings, either.

  “Jake, may I have a moment?”

  Jake nodded, then turned back to the wrap-up of a conversation with Stess, who was just leaving. Dez had noted before how well Stessie and Jake got along, and now it was further evidence to back up his theory. With the exception of Srral, Stessie was probably the least materialistic member of the crew.

  Stess left, and Jake wandered back in Dez’s direction, smiling…but a reserved smile, not as entirely open as it had been even a week before. Now that Dez was looking for it, he could see that Jake’s attitude had changed, had become just a little bit cautious. It hurt to see…and it was exasperating, too, but he was already committed to making it better. Besides, it wasn’t Jake’s fault that he’d been raised with the high “virtue” of contempt for earning a paeg.

  Brad and Pri’ak were still in the room, but deeply immersed in conversation. Dez walked Jake to one corner of the room, deciding to play it mostly straight.

  “I’ve been thinking, about those last Dominion outposts,” Dez said, and immediately saw his suspicion confirmed in Jake’s honest gaze. He quickly went on, using his frustration with Jake’s implanted morality to ease the small deception.

  “Maybe we should just skip over them entirely,” he said. “The other day, what you told me about New Bajor…it puts a different spin on things, sometimes, to see them through someone else’s perspective.” That was certainly true.

  Jake was surprised…and hopeful, but trying not to show it. It made Dez’s heart feel warm, seeing Jake work not to offend him.

  “Oh, I don’t know…I mean, you do work as a salvage ship sometimes,” Jake said. “There’s nothing wrong with taking stuff no one else wants….”

  Dez nodded, stepping carefully now. He didn’t want to lie; he wasn’t a liar. “That’s true—but we don’t need it, we’re not exactly destitute right now, thanks to you. And when you told me about what happened back on that planet…” He smiled, shrugging, putting a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “…suddenly, digging around in the ashes for a few paegs just doesn’t seem all that great.”

  It was the right move. He could actually see Jake relax, see his smile become wide and genuine again. He hadn’t even realized how much the last few days had altered Jake until now, seeing the open good humor return to his young face.

  They made plans to have dinner together, and then Jake was off, his head high, proud once again to be on the Even Odds. Dez felt a slight twinge of conscience, but it was a mild one. He hadn’t lied about anything. With as much money as the Giani’aga box was going to bring in, they didn’t need the salvage…and if Jake believed that they were going to disregard the last outposts because Dez felt bad about the war, what was wrong with that, what was wrong with Jake thinking that he was a good man? He was a good man, and Jake needed to feel like they were doing “ethical” work to be comfortable, and Dez had no problem with that.

  As long as I don’t make a habit of it. He wouldn’t have to. Jake would loosen up after a while, once he realized that he wasn’t going to be judged for daring to relax. I’m not his father, after all.

  From the stor
ies Jake told, Benjamin Sisko had been a brave and thoughtful man…but also a smugly judgmental one, always defining right and wrong for the boy, narrowing his perspective, making Jake into his own image. It hadn’t been fair…but Jake wasn’t a child anymore, and could draw his own conclusions. It would just take a little time.

  Dez smiled to himself, thinking of how happy the rest of the crew was going to be, dropping the last two salvages. Thinking of how good it felt, to be showing Jake something of life—and to be making a safe home for him, too, a place he could belong.

  Day 71, night. The Giani’aga box sold today, for 7500 Klon paegs (I’ll do the latinum exchange math later, thank you), though that’s not why I’m writing. Just had dinner with Dez, and got back here, and read my last couple of entries—and I felt a need to put something after them, to soften them somehow, particularly after the talk we just had. Dez continues to surprise me, and I keep surprising myself, too…but I think I’m finally starting to understand both of us a little better.

  For weeks now, I’ve been building up to a self-righteous snit over certain financial aspects of the retrieval business, and I can see now that I’ve been way too quick to jump to conclusions, to make assumptions about how important the money is. Today, after the announcement about the box being sold, Dez pulled me aside and told me that he didn’t feel right about profiting off the war anymore. He wants to skip the last couple of Dominion sites(!), because of last week—it was like he suddenly realized how terrible it was, to understand we were at the site of a slaughter, looking for leftovers. I knew he was a strong, solid person, and all this time, I’ve been struggling to come around to his point of view, but I’ve felt so awkward about it…and it turns out, he’s been feeling awkward with his viewpoint. I know it’s stupid, I mean, there are a lot of people in the universe who don’t feel the way I do about money, who actually care deeply about it (all of Ferenginar, for example), but I feel so much better, anyway, to hear him say it’s not so all-important. He really only sees it as a means to an end—he didn’t say it outright, I think he’s even a little shy about it (it’s so unfortune-hunter-like), but over dinner he implied that as the business continues to grow financially, someday he’ll be able to help people like the Yaron for free.