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Dedicated to G.K.
Birth Of A Notion
by Rocky

2370

Lieutenant Michael Eddington doggedly made his way through the recently-plowed field. It had rained the night before, and his once pristine Starfleet boots sank ankle-deep in mud with every step. A cold headwind further impeded his progress.

Panora was one of the more sparsely settled worlds of the newly-christened Demilitarized Zone, the region of space between the redrawn Cardassian-Federation borders in the wake of the recent treaty. The Lexington had been in orbit for the past week; as Chief of Security, Eddington had spent several hours planet-side each day helping his captain conduct fruitless negotiations with the inhabitants regarding their evacuation. Now, slogging through the mire, his impatience increasing with each minute, Eddington was sure he wouldn't be sorry to see the last of this place--regardless of the outcome of their mission.

He paused to catch his breath as well as gain his bearings. The sky was overcast, and not another living soul was in sight, except for the flock of small black birds which always seemed to be circling overhead. He could just make out their faint cries. The gray and brown land was empty--just flat bare fields stretching for kilometers, the starkness only occasionally relieved by a small cluster of storage sheds. But he'd been told Rebecca Sullivan was working somewhere in the vicinity and he was determined to find her. Finally, after another quarter hour, he spotted his quarry.

"You're a persistent one, aren't you?" she said as he approached, her attention firmly fixed on the mechanism of the harvester-combine she was repairing. "Hand me that hypospanner, will you?"

"I could say the same about you, Miss Sullivan," Eddington said, making no move to help her.

"I'm not the one who's sticking around where I'm not wanted." Sullivan heaved herself to her feet and retrieved her tool. "Don't get me wrong--we enjoy visitors, but I'd say you Starfleet folks have overstayed your welcome." She gestured at his feet. "By the way, you might want to be careful where you step."

Eddington glanced down and hastily moved half a meter to his right, flushing at her chuckle of amusement. "Interesting how you can talk about the customs of the world, as you're not a native Panoran at all. Rebecca Sullivan, age 28, born to Arik and Liana Sullivan in the Modean System, attended the University of Pacifica but left in 2359 without finishing your degree and spent four years on Beilus Prime, then another three on Correll--"

"I'm flattered you went to the trouble of looking me up."

He pushed down the rising wave of irritation she always seemed to provoke in him. "My point is that you only arrived on Panora a few months ago."

"Is there a law that Federation citizens must stay put, not move around at any point in their lives?" Sullivan replaced the cover panel and wiped her hands on a greasy rag. "You yourself were born on Alphacent and moved to Rigel as a child with your parents, before heading to Terra to attend Starfleet Academy."

"Now who's been looking up whom?"

Sullivan shrugged and picked up her toolbox. The wind blew her long black hair into her eyes; she brushed  it away impatiently. "It's always a good idea to know as much as possible about the enemy."

"I'm not the enemy," Eddington said, catching her arm. "Neither is Starfleet. On the contrary, we're only trying to help."

"So you've said--repeatedly--since you arrived on Panora a week ago. But what you don't seem to have grasped, regardless of how many times we've told you, is that we don't want or need the kind of help you're offering." For the first time her voice carried a trace of anger. She gazed pointedly at his hand until he released her. "My idea of help is not trying to remove people from their homes."

Sullivan swung into the seat of an old truck parked nearby. "I'm heading back to town. Want a ride?" Sensing Eddington's hesitation, she added, "Unless you'd prefer to walk?"

Not inclined for another trek across the muddy fields, Eddington readily acquiesced and got in beside her. Sullivan started up the engine, which spluttered a bit before settling into a steady roar as they lurched forward. No antigrav clamps, Eddington surmised, or else they were offline. No inertial dampeners either. Like so much of the Panoran colony, the truck had clearly seen better days.

To his surprise, instead of backing up and turning around, Sullivan continued straight ahead, striking a small paved road a few hundred meters on.

"This isn't the way I came," he said, raising his voice to be heard above the noise of the motor. "This road goes back to the settlement?"

"Sure does--and it's a lot shorter, to boot. I was wondering why you chose the 'scenic route' through the fields." Sullivan glanced at his splattered uniform, and then her grin faded. "I guess you don't know everything there is to know about Panora, after all."

An even more decrepit ground vehicle approached from the other direction. Sullivan waved and pulled over to the side of the road to allow the other driver to pass. Not surprisingly, the truck engine stalled once they were no longer moving.

Taking advantage of the sudden quiet, Eddington said, "I never claimed to be an expert on Panora, but you're the one who doesn't seem to grasp the situation here. The border planets in the DMZ have been ceded to Cardassia as part of the treaty. This planet, along with the others in the region, is no longer part of the Federation. You don't want to stay here under those conditions--you can't stay under those conditions."

"The Federation must really trust their new allies," she observed mildly and made to start up the engine once more.

Eddington put his hand over hers, stopping her motion. "You're twisting my words."

"What's twisted is your perspective," Sullivan said, her eyes flashing her resentment at his interference. "Don't you understand that to the Federation, Panora and Dorvan and all the others are just lines on a starmap, but to the people who live here it's home. The older planets, like Dorvan, were settled over 200 years ago. Even  Panora, the last colony to be started, is in its sixth decade. Contrary to your belief, I'm not some outside agitator, come to stir up trouble. Which is more than I can say for you--or your fellow officers." She raised her voice over his objections. "As a member of the Colonial Council, I've sat and listened to the proposals of what Starfleet has in mind for us. 'Resettlement.'" She grimaced as if the word itself tasted bad.  "As if you can just exchange one planet for another. We've put down roots here--this is where we belong. We don't want to leave."

"Even for a better life elsewhere?" Eddington swept his hand around him. "Look at this place--the vast majority of your citizens live at a level well below what's standard in the rest of the Federation, slaving away at back-breaking labor trying to make this colony produce. The climate's inhospitable, the topsoil's poor in nutrients, the only crops that manage to grow here aren't of any value for export, there's not much in the way of natural resources--why not give this all up? Why are you so hell-bent on staying?"

"Who are you to judge the quality of our lives?" Sullivan said angrily.

"At the moment, I'm more concerned about your lives, period," Eddington said in the most reasonable tone he could manage. "I've heard your arguments at the Council meetings, but can you honestly tell me everyone agrees with you? That every single citizen of Panora wants to stay?"

"Is that so hard for you to imagine?"

"Frankly, yes, it is," Eddington said, giving a hard stare to the woman Starfleet considered to be the fountainhead of the resistance.

Sullivan didn't flinch. "No one, from the oldest settler down to the youngest child, is willing to voluntarily give up their homes. Definitely something the Federation should have considered before blithely signing away the lives of the people who live here!"

"The treaty's been three years in the making," Eddington said, trying to keep his own temper in check. "Surely this hasn't come as a surprise. In order to effect a lasting peace with the Cardassians, certain compromises--"

"--territorial concessions, you mean--"

"--certain compromises had to be made."

"Without consulting the people who would be most affected! The Feds had no right to do this to us!" The motor flared to life, and Sullivan savagely turned the wheel, guiding them back onto the road once more.

Eddington sat silently, watching the dull landscape crawl by, the drops of moisture beginning to collect on the windscreen. He studied Sullivan's obstinate profile, wondering how to resolve the impasse between them. As the first clusters of buildings at the outskirts of the settlement came into view, he said, "I've heard all these arguments before."

"You may have heard them, but you really haven't been listening to anything I--or anyone else here, for that matter--have been saying. Or you wouldn't still be here."

The truck came to a stop. Sullivan made no move to get out, obviously waiting for him to go first.

Eddington opened the door, then turned back to her. "That's what I came to tell you--the Lexington is leaving today." He saw, with some satisfaction, that he'd finally punctured her air of self-assurance.

She recovered quickly, though. "Took you long enough, but I'm glad you've finally come to your senses and given up. Or have you decided to simply remove us against our will?"

Eddington smiled sourly. "You've won, Miss Sullivan--if you can call it that."

"You're not going to forcibly evacuate us?"

"No. We received new orders from Commander Hudson, the Attaché to the Federation colonies in the Demilitarized Zone. Panora is to be granted the same privilege as Dorvan IV. In other words, those who want to stay may do so--but you'll have to make your own arrangements with the Cardassians." He couldn't help adding, "You may not find them as accommodating as Starfleet."

"I see." She gave him a level look, as if estimating how much malice was in his statement. "In other words, the Federation has decided to wash its hands of the situation."

He immediately regretted his last comment. "No. That's not--"

"That's exactly what you're saying," she said, her eyes meeting his intently. He found it difficult to look away. "Basically, it'll be on our own heads what will happen to us. Fortunately, we're more than capable of defending ourselves."

"Don't underestimate the Cardassians."

"We're not the ones underestimating them--or their true intentions." Sullivan added bitterly, "But so much for the Federation's boast of always taking care of its own."

"We can only take care of the ones who allow us to do so." Eddington paused. "What did you really expect the Federation to do?"

Sullivan gave an exasperated sigh. "I expected them to refuse to hand over Federation colonies, but I suppose that would be asking too much. Obviously, the welfare of their citizens isn't a top priority."

He felt a reluctant admiration for her perseverance, her willingness to argue the strength of her convictions. Too bad it was in so misguided a cause. "Like it or not, the treaty is a done deal. It's been signed and ratified by both parties. Thanks to the negotiations, the escalating hostilities of the past few years have ceased. We've averted a major war. And as a provision of the treaty, this territory has been ceded to Cardassia. This is the reality you have to deal with, not waste time wishing things had gone otherwise."

"I don't need a history lesson--or a reality check."

"Starfleet sent us here to relocate you to another world, to reestablish your colony on an undisputed planet, somewhere with a future. But you refused. You said you wanted to be left alone, and that's exactly what you got."

She shook her head as if marveling at his denseness. "As we always have, Panora will survive on the strength of her own efforts. At least we can thank Captain Picard and the Enterprise for reminding you of the meaning of the self-determination clause in the Federation Charter."

"Picard set a dangerous precedent when he gave in to the demands of the Dorvan Tribal Council," Eddington said sharply, then took a deep breath.  "Despite how it looks, we're not entirely abandoning the colonies in the DMZ--we'll still be monitoring the situation from afar."

"That's comforting to know."

"You don't seem very concerned about what's going to happen to you," he said, more curious now than angry. He wondered at the source of her confidence. According to reports, the Dorvan settlers believed they had settled in a land promised to them by their ancient spirits. As such, they could perhaps be forgiven for assuming they'd be recipients of divine intervention, if need be. Eddington had served with enough Bajoran officers not to discount the power of faith. But Panora--and Sullivan, if the reports on her were accurate--had no such thing to fall back on.

"I'm very concerned for the future of this planet."

"And what about yourself?" Eddington couldn't help asking.

"This is my home," Sullivan said calmly. "This is where I belong. We won't go quietly, or without putting up a fight. I told you before, we're well equipped to defend ourselves. Regardless of who the enemy is, Starfleet or the Cardassians."

His comm badge chirped. "Eddington here."

"All landing parties are being recalled," said the Lexington's Ops officer. "Are you ready to beam up, Lieutenant?"

"Give me five more minutes," Eddington said, and broke the connection. He exited the truck, then paused before closing the door. "You may not believe me," he said simply, "but we only had your best interests at heart."

Sullivan was silent for a long moment. "I believe that you believe that."

Impulsively, Eddington held out his hand. "Take care of yourself, Rebecca."

Her work-scarred fingers clasped his tightly and she smiled. "Thank you, Michael."

Nine Months Later

Lieutenant Commander Eddington materialized on the surface of Panora, at what had once been the main administration building of the colony. He heard gasps from the other officers in his away team and it was all he could to keep from crying out as well. Despite the preliminary reports, as well as their own ship's sensor data, the scene which met his eyes was like a visceral blow.

The devastation around them was complete. All the buildings were gone, just burn marks on the ground indicating where they had once stood. Even the rocks were melted into twisted shapes, evidence of the plasma weapons used by the Cardassians. He fancied he could still feel the heat of the soil through the soles of his boots. Instinctively, he looked up at the sky, expecting to see the ever-present birds. But there was nothing there. In the forbidding silence, it seemed as though nothing had ever lived there, or ever could.

"Commander," said Ensign Burke, holding out his tricorder. "I'm picking up faint life signs a few hundred meters away."

"Which heading?"

"Due west, sir."

"Then let's get moving. Burke, Mazurka, K'far, you're with me. The rest of you fan out, investigate the rest of the area. There may be other groups of survivors as well." He fervently hoped it was true.

With every step he took, Eddington felt sicker. Although it had been nearly a year since he had last set foot on Panora, he could see it in his mind's eye as it had once been: the groups of children playing in the streets of the settlement, the farmers toiling away in their fields, the Council members passionately arguing against what they perceived as Starfleet's betrayal.

We caused all this, he thought despairingly. This is our fault. We should never have abandoned them to their fate--and for what? To ally ourselves to monsters who murder civilians in cold blood.

Eddington had seen too much over the years to be the same starry-eyed idealist he had once been, fresh out of the Academy. There had been too many incidents he'd witnessed during his career which illustrated that neither Starfleet nor the Federation were infallible. But this was the first time he'd ever been ashamed to wear the uniform.

There was a small opening in the hillside ahead, scarcely large enough for an adult to fit through. "In there," Burke said. "Readings indicate there's a network of caves that extends for several kilometers."

Eddington stepped in first. He was greeted by a shower of dust and small rocks. Coughing and spluttering, he bent over to catch his breath.

"Are you all right, sir?" Burke said in concern.

"Fine." Eddington tried to clear his throat. "How's the opening of the cave?"

"All clear now. In fact, it may be a little bigger than it was before."

"Thank Heaven for small mercies," Eddington muttered. He attempted to brush himself off. His fingers slid over the new third pip on his collar, adding to the weight of responsibility he already felt. He and his team switched on their wrist lights and carefully made their way further into the cavern.

After moving through almost total darkness for twenty minutes, Eddington saw a welcome light up ahead. The natural rock corridor they were following widened out into a large room, with a high vaulted ceiling. It was occupied by a small group of refugees.

A handful, where once there were hundreds.

Burke and the others quickly spread out, going to the survivors, speaking with them, ascertaining their conditions. All according to standard procedure for rescue operations. But Eddington had eyes only for a  dark haired woman bent over a small child in her lap, comforting her.

At his approach, the woman looked up. It was Rebecca Sullivan.

"You're alive, thank God. I thought--we heard--and then when I beamed down and saw--" Eddington's words sputtered to a halt. More calmly, he said, "I didn't think there would be any survivors."
     
"I told you we were set to defend ourselves," Sullivan said tiredly. "Insuring that at least some would survive is part of it."

"What happened?" he said stupidly.

"They didn't attack right away. Oh, no, the Cardassians were much too clever for that. They started out small--demanding a percentage of the food we produced as taxes owed to the Empire, who now claimed sovereignty over the planet. Not just food--timber, minerals, as well, though we told them we had neither the personnel nor the equipment to conduct large scale mining or forestry operations." She spoke as if by rote, as if it were a story she'd already told many times before. "Each month the quotas increased. At the same time they began harassing us in other ways--stopping and searching ships approaching the planet, jamming our subspace signals. They meant to drive us away."

"But you weren't going."

"We didn't allow Starfleet to push us out, why should we let the Cardassians?" She tossed her head with a hint of her former bravado, but her eyes were haunted. "Then they resorted to force. We fought back, naturally, but we were outgunned, outmanned. They sent an armada. All we had were sublight shuttles. Gul Dekel broadcast a warning that he was going to incinerate the entire planet." She was silent for a moment. "And he damn near did."

The child in her arms whimpered. Sullivan made a soft shushing noise.  She looked up at Eddington once more, and her expression hardened. "I didn't think you'd be so eager to muddy your boots here again, Commander. I take it you're here as a part of a Starfleet rescue mission?"

"The other ships will be here within another six hours. I was part of an advance group--I wanted to--"

"Have the opportunity to say 'I told you so' in person? You should be proud of yourself, you predicted exactly what was going to happen."

"That's not why I'm here." Eddington knelt beside her and lifted up the child. She couldn't have been more than two or three years old and regarded him with large scared eyes. "It's all right, sweetheart," he said to her softly. "I'm not going to hurt you. No one is going to hurt you ever again." To Sullivan he added, "We've brought food, medicine--and we'll be taking you back to Federation territory. Are there any other survivors besides this encampment?"

"No. This is the only one." Sullivan cleared her throat. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier. It was uncalled for. I know you're only trying to help."

For some reason, that stung more than her earlier barbs. "You've been through a lot. I'm glad you're safe." Eddington shifted the child to a more comfortable position against his chest, casting about for something to say. "What will you do now, go back home to the Modean System, or perhaps the university?"

Sullivan shook her head. "I'll go with the refugees, help see them resettled. And then I have work to do."

He wasn't surprised to hear it, but had to ask anyway. "You mean--"

"This battle is over, but the war has just begun," Sullivan said, her quiet resolve overlaid with a hint of her old fire. "And mark my words, it is a war, and we won't go quietly."

Her words echoed what she had told him seemingly a lifetime ago. All at once, Eddington came to a decision, one that had been in the making for some time although he hadn't realized it until now.

He reached out and took her hand. "This time you won't be fighting alone."

FINIS

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