"Ceremony of Innocence"

[OdileCondacin 0]

Acrid fumes burned at Odile's throat and eyes as soon as she'd materialized. It was different from the scent damage on a starship, somehow -- it was as if everything destruction touched on a world burned life as well as conduits and metal; the Xenexian felt as if she were going to retch.

 

"Three? Good." From somewhere off to her left, a med staffer had brushed by them, dispensing a quick tri-ox shot to each. "We're getting gas masks replicated on the ships as quickly as we can, but for the moment... Ah, thank the stars, another doctor," one commented, noting Odile's raid on Agincourt's staff. She nodded, separating from the rest of the group as she approached a few clumps of personnel that seemed to be gearing up to head into the mess beyond the base camp.

 

"You thinking of going out?" a woman's voice stopped her before she could even approach. Bajoran -- and in civilian wear, not even uniformed. Not that it mattered. "We don't even have enough gear for everyone -- my group's sharing two masks with six -- not to mention only two med-kits."

 

Odile glanced her over, nodded. "Doesn't matter -- I'm helping."

 

The other seemed relieved, leading the Xenexian towards a group which looked like it was otherwise made up of Vulcans and humans. "We're Group Twenty-Six, if you need to identify on the comm," she added briskly. "Ensign Pelara, and you're Lieutenant..."

 

"Condacin. Ensign?" Odile repeated, and instantly regretted it.

 

"Is that a problem?" she snapped back contemptuously, and Condacin couldn't recall the last time she'd heard such a junior worn so thin. Again, it hardly mattered. Odile shook her head, and received a curt nod of reply. "Very well, then. We're moving out. Westerly. Least probed so far." They all nodded, and the Bajoran hefted a large pack over one shoulder; Odile managed a heavy pack full of equipment that one of the Vulcans had gestured she take.

 

It was slow going in the rubble -- there were places where the haze was so thick that she could barely see a meter in front of her. Progress was most times very little, forging trails through the unstable, thick debris. But it wasn't taking long for her to see why the little teams had been setting out instead of waiting for shuttles and thus tractor beams to come available.

 

Half the task was actually finding; some they found were barely hurt – or could be marked and radioed in for med teams to take over from the less medically-inclined search parties. The other half of their finds was... grisly. Battlefields weren't something Odile had spent overmuch time with, and she was grateful that she hadn't been in such... hell... sooner.

 

"Over here," the Bajoran's voice called, gesturing to a large, half-melted former structure of metal. "About eight life-signs. About five meters below here. Oxygen, too... could have been a turbolift shaft."

 

"How the hell are we going to get in there?" Odile asked, eyeing the huge structure dubiously. "I suppose if we all started working on one side of the mess, we could try to drop down through one side..."

 

"Good idea," Pelara commented, already drawing her phaser. "Phasers on setting four..." Six beams shot out, the heavy metal reacting slowly to their efforts.

 

"Scan the area," Condacin ordered from her stance after a few limitedly-successful minutes, finally resorting to using amping up her phaser to maul at the titanium. "See if this is all in the vicinity." There, it finally gave. But the miniscule victory didn't last; Pelara was speaking already.

 

"That I can see... there's a single lifesign just over that mess of metal there. And not even buried," she added, softly, and Odile was already on her feet.

 

"Bring a med-kit," the Xenexian instructed. "Hurry on -- these ones can get to the air-pocket."

 

"Aye," she answered, following quickly with the pack tucked under one arm.

 

They scaled the little ridge of destruction quickly, and Pelara snatched her arm, half dragging her down the shallow slope as they went. "There." Yellow-clad, the mangled form was barely recognizable as anything humanoid from even a few meters away.

 

"Here... the pack," Odile demanded, yanking it open before even getting a look at the cadet. Med-corder out, she started the scanning, and the Bajoran eased him from under the rubble, glancing up at the Xenexian when she'd realized Condacin had frozen.

 

"Ma'am, the scans...?"

 

O'd'yl was shaking, her voice suddenly stricken. She wordlessly handed the tricorder to Pelara, her lips parting and sending her face into an expression of sheer agony.

 

The burns -- gods, they'd have to have surpassed third-degree -- covered the half of his body he'd rested upon, half of his burnished tan face horribly charred and swollen. How he was even alive...

 

The cadet stirred.

 

... oh, all the gods, he was conscious...

 

His intact eye opened, and Odile started back -- and twice, once she was able to register what she was seeing. His iris was brilliant, burning indigo. There was only one world she'd ever known that produced eye color that intense. Xenex. Oh, by every god worshipped...

 

He was reaching up towards her jerkily, body spasming slightly with the effort. A groan escaped, and she leaned in closer, ignoring her urge to shrink from the hideous burns in revulsion.

 

Somehow his voice was clear -- quiet but clear -- and it startled her. "Mother?" he asked. No. Begged -- and then O'd'yl realized it wasn't in Standard.

 

O'd'yl had broken out trembling completely now, resting a gentle hand against his arm as she shook her head. "No," she answered, then repeated it again in the language he'd used. Gods. Her language. She glanced at Pelara, who almost imperceptibly shook her head, setting the tricorder aside.

 

"Looks like you... her... your eyes... I thought she'd come..." he mumbled, and his head lolled back. Somewhere, far off in the half-meter distance away, the faint, unsteady beep had turned to a solid, quiet whine. Odile clutched at his arm, shaking him slightly.

 

"No..." she murmured, then jerked at the corpse more solidly. "No!

 

"He's gone," Pelara said quietly, even though O'd'yl thought it was obvious she already knew. A few fingers passed over the open, unseeing eye, setting him to rest, and forced herself to release the tattered cloth at the shoulder. Her knees almost buckled beneath her as she tried to stand; she braced herself on a nearby piece of wreckage, staring at the still form of the Xenexian at her feet numbly.

 

"Lieutenant, I'm sorry..." There was no response, no movement, just O'd'yl staring at the body. "Xenexians have a pantheon, no?" the Bajoran tried, softly. "He's with your gods now, isn't he?" she asked softly.

 

O'd'yl's eyes stung, yet dimly she was aware that tears were not falling -- were not even welling up. "Gods?" she asked, a bitter laugh coloring the question. "What gods? Xenexian gods?" she demanded, every word choked and forced, "How could any... omniscient, omnipotent presence care about the all the people on some insignificant, ugly little chunk of rock if they couldn't..."

 

Her voice broke. She looked off away from the cadet, through the billows of smoke and past uncontrolled pockets of flame scattered around the wasteland. Through the chaos she could barely even hear herself; Pelara had to strain to hear what the Xenexian was saying.

 

"If they couldn't even watch over one... one little one so far away from home..."

 

The Bajoran woman didn't dare reach out towards Condacin, keeping a respectful few steps away. "The Prophets watched Bajor be ravaged by Cardassia after all, but they still cared..."

 

"All the more fools your kind, then. And us, for bludgeoning on with hope after the Danteri..." It was short and brief, more clipped than she planned it, and somewhere mixed with her harsh response, she realized that her cheeks were slightly damp -- the trails of tears drying quickly in the heat blowing over them.

 

It was clear the matter was closed from O'd'yl's tone -- though Pelara's concern remained. "Ma'am, if you wish, we can arrange someone to take over for us... you can take a break"

 

There'd rarely been more venom in O'd'yl's fierce gold eyes than then -- the Bajoran took an unconscious step back.

 

"You may do as you wish," she answered, her voice darkened and coarse with rage. "I will be here searching until my hands are bloodied to the bone or until I fall in exhaustion. Is this clear, Ensign?

 

She visibly swallowed. "Yes, Sir."

 

"Good," Odile snarled, gesturing towards the body without quite looking to it. "Tag the body." Her jaw set, and she didn't even cringe as she looked down the long path of destruction before them; she gave a slight nod to the rest of their team joining them. "Three-fifths of seventy thousand cadets are dead or dying within a six kilometer radius of our position. I suggest we resume moving immediately."