Scorched Earth

'What would you undertake

To show yourself your father's son in deed

More than in words?'

Hamlet, Act IV, Scene VII

Prologue: Rakantha Province, Bajor; April 2368

A dungeon horrible, on all sides round
As one great furnace flamed, yet from those flames
No light, but rather darkness visible

Serv'd only to discover sights of woe...
 
Milton, Paradise Lost

From this height, it was clear where the ground stopped being green and became black. Even the smoke from the fires could not obscure this line, the border between civilization and chaos.

Glinn Talat dropped the flyer's altitude, relieved to be able to focus on a task which would distract him from the oppressive presence of his passenger. As they came in a little closer, it became clear that the border was itself crossed by many lines, scratch marks scoring the land, moving inexorably from black to green - the trails of the departing Cardassian forces.

'Land here.' 

Talat jumped at the sudden order and glanced at the co-ordinates the man showed him. His heart sank. 'Sir, I must warn you that it's extremely dangerous on the ground. Our men could leave that area at any moment and I couldn't guarantee your safety...'

'Thank you, Talat, but I believe that I am quite able to manage. Perhaps you would be happier if I guaranteed your safety?' There was a pause, which Talat did not dare to fill. 'Then let us land.'

Talat, a Cardassian to the tips of his scales and thus uninterested in the cosmologies of alien cultures, was not able to compare the situation that met them on the ground with Hell; his passenger, however, was considerably better informed. Despite it being the middle of the day, they had to squint through the gloom at the scene. Malatta had once been a prosperous agricultural settlement. After the Cardassians occupied the province it had degenerated into a shantytown. And now it was on fire.

The air was almost solid with ash, gagging both men. Through the smoke they could make out the charred ruins of little homes and barns. Faintly, through what remained of blackened windows, they could just glimpse the ghostly faces of the Bajoran locals, looking on helplessly as their already meagre livelihoods were completely obliterated.

'Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace and rest can never dwell, hope never comes...' muttered the other man.

'I beg your pardon, sir?' coughed Talat in confusion. The military didn't, in general, speak highly of Obsidian Order officers, considering them undisciplined and soft. Talat hadn't, however, expected them also to spout garbage at the drop of a hat.

'Never mind,' the man responded, clearing his throat. 'Now, which particular star of the military firmament do we have here?' This was at the approach of an irate-looking gul, who addressed Talat, ignoring the other man.

'What are you doing bringing civilians here?' he yelled. 'This whole area is off limits. Explain yourself immediately!'

Talat swallowed, 'Sir, I...'

The Order man cut through his babbling, addressing the gul directly. 'What's your name, soldier?'

The gul stared at him in amazement, as if a worm had suddenly looked up and spoken to him. 'Just who do you think you...?' he started to exclaim.

Again the man cut through. 'Perhaps you'd better check my identification,' he said smoothly, and held out his left wrist, offering the implant for inspection. Confusion was the dominant expression on the gul's face as he pulled out the requisite equipment and scanned the chip. He read the results and alarm replaced confusion. 'My sincere apologies, sir,' he gulped. 'I'd no idea you were in the area...' He pulled himself together. 'Gul Temeny, Second Battalion, Fourth Order, sir. What do you need from us?'

The man smiled at him. 'A few minutes of your time, Temeny, that's all. I want to know how the evacuation is proceeding.'

Temeny relaxed. Asking a Cardassian soldier to recite his orders was by far the best way to put him at ease. 'The first priority was to prepare all equipment for removal from the area, sir. This took thirteen hours - the fastest time for any battalion in this province, sir,' he preened, 'and we completed this yesterday evening...'

The man held up a hand to stop him. 'So why are you still here?'

'I'm sorry, sir?'

'If all your equipment is packed, why are you still here, nearly a day later?'

Temeny blinked from a momentary confusion but took the question at face value. Talat, who had spent more than a week now in the company of the Order agent, recognized the tone of voice, and winced slightly in anticipation of the onslaught that was bound to come.

'Our orders are to cleanse the town and treat the soil before withdrawing, sir,' Temeny answered.

'Is that right?' said the man with evident distaste at the series of euphemisms he had just heard.

'It's not as if they don't deserve it, sir,' Temeny added, a little defensively. 'The Resistance has been ambushing our troop convoys as they're leaving.'

The agent appeared to have stopped listening, but was watching the battalion carrying out their instructions about him. Then he turned back to face the soldier and spoke very quietly. 'Gul Temeny, this is a direct order. I want you and your men away from here within an hour. Stop what you're doing and get out.'

Temeny cleared his throat. The man was clearly angry, for some reason Temeny couldn't quite grasp. 'Sir, can I ask why?'

Elim Garak turned to look at him, his pale blue eyes making his gaze cold. 'Why?' He looked back at the blackened, poisoned town. 'Because this is an obscenity.'