The Lights Of Lakarian City
by Count Zero
On the outskirts of what, just one day ago, used to be a city of millions, a man sits on a pile of rubble, staring into the slow sunset.
He really should be going like all the others but he has already been walking for miles today. All the way from the prison camp to the city – to the ruins of the city, to be precise. He had never been to Lakarian City before, and most of his knowledge about it came from what was in the Federation databases. Until recently, it had been famous for its amusement park and other worldly pleasures. So, seeing its lights off in the distance from the most miserable place of his life had always seemed exceptionally cruel to him.
For nearly five years he had been in the hands of the Cardassian prison system, the object of abuse by sadistic guards, his fate depending on the whims people deformed into something like monsters by life long indoctrination. The last one, Legate Krelek, had found delight in having him play an elaborate Cardassian card game for the lives of prisoners. Naturally, Krelek often won and had him watch the prisoners whose lives he had lost being put to death.
He thought this was the life he'd lead until he'd die an untimely and probably painful death. And this certainty was almost harder to bear than everything else - this complete hopelessness. Because, after all these years, he had given up hope of ever being rescued like Kira had promised him. How naive he had been, back then. In this state of utter despair the lights of Lakarian City had seemed to personally taunt him. How was it possible that over there, people enjoyed themselves and went about their lives while only a few miles away all these terrible things happened?
Now, the lights of Lakarian City had been put out, probably forever, considering the total destruction around him. Yesterday, the city was levelled by the Jem' Hadar, its inhabitants killed. When the bombing had started the guards at the camp became so scared that most of them ran off. The prisoners used this opportunity to free themselves.
But what is he about to do, now? He is still stranded on Cardassia, in the middle of a devastating war, and a relief effort for the city isn't very likely to start anytime soon. Thinking about this, he starts roaming through the heaps of rubble from which smoke rises, smelling terribly, like burned flesh – a smell he'll never forget.
On one of the large heaps that, not long ago, had probably been a house, a Cardassian woman kneels and digs in the debris with her bare hands. For a while he just stands there, watching, until she notices him and startles. He can read the result of all the propaganda in her eyes. To her, he is a criminal and a terrorist, who has comitted terrible crimes against the Cardassian people. She recovers quickly from the shock, though, and relaxes a little as she realizes that she isn't in any imminent danger.
"I guess, it doesn't make any sense, does it?", she suddenly says, sounding slightly desperate. She adds,"They're all dead, aren't they?"
He searches for an adequate answer but all he can come up with is a rather lame "Well...".
She sits down, about to start crying or worse, so he decides to take a seat beside her, offering her the bottle of Kanar he had looted from the Legate's personal supply. Surprisingly, it cheers her up a little. For a while they continue to just sit there. She's staring in the distance and he's looking at her delicate face.
"What's your name?"
"Ilana."
"Mine's Tom. I'll help you searching."
Even though he doesn't really know why, they both continue digging, under the light of a small lamp Ilana had brought with her. Later that evening, Tom looks up from the rubble and sees many similiar lights shining in the city.
by Count Zero
On the outskirts of what, just one day ago, used to be a city of millions, a man sits on a pile of rubble, staring into the slow sunset.
He really should be going like all the others but he has already been walking for miles today. All the way from the prison camp to the city – to the ruins of the city, to be precise. He had never been to Lakarian City before, and most of his knowledge about it came from what was in the Federation databases. Until recently, it had been famous for its amusement park and other worldly pleasures. So, seeing its lights off in the distance from the most miserable place of his life had always seemed exceptionally cruel to him.
For nearly five years he had been in the hands of the Cardassian prison system, the object of abuse by sadistic guards, his fate depending on the whims people deformed into something like monsters by life long indoctrination. The last one, Legate Krelek, had found delight in having him play an elaborate Cardassian card game for the lives of prisoners. Naturally, Krelek often won and had him watch the prisoners whose lives he had lost being put to death.
He thought this was the life he'd lead until he'd die an untimely and probably painful death. And this certainty was almost harder to bear than everything else - this complete hopelessness. Because, after all these years, he had given up hope of ever being rescued like Kira had promised him. How naive he had been, back then. In this state of utter despair the lights of Lakarian City had seemed to personally taunt him. How was it possible that over there, people enjoyed themselves and went about their lives while only a few miles away all these terrible things happened?
Now, the lights of Lakarian City had been put out, probably forever, considering the total destruction around him. Yesterday, the city was levelled by the Jem' Hadar, its inhabitants killed. When the bombing had started the guards at the camp became so scared that most of them ran off. The prisoners used this opportunity to free themselves.
But what is he about to do, now? He is still stranded on Cardassia, in the middle of a devastating war, and a relief effort for the city isn't very likely to start anytime soon. Thinking about this, he starts roaming through the heaps of rubble from which smoke rises, smelling terribly, like burned flesh – a smell he'll never forget.
On one of the large heaps that, not long ago, had probably been a house, a Cardassian woman kneels and digs in the debris with her bare hands. For a while he just stands there, watching, until she notices him and startles. He can read the result of all the propaganda in her eyes. To her, he is a criminal and a terrorist, who has comitted terrible crimes against the Cardassian people. She recovers quickly from the shock, though, and relaxes a little as she realizes that she isn't in any imminent danger.
"I guess, it doesn't make any sense, does it?", she suddenly says, sounding slightly desperate. She adds,"They're all dead, aren't they?"
He searches for an adequate answer but all he can come up with is a rather lame "Well...".
She sits down, about to start crying or worse, so he decides to take a seat beside her, offering her the bottle of Kanar he had looted from the Legate's personal supply. Surprisingly, it cheers her up a little. For a while they continue to just sit there. She's staring in the distance and he's looking at her delicate face.
"What's your name?"
"Ilana."
"Mine's Tom. I'll help you searching."
Even though he doesn't really know why, they both continue digging, under the light of a small lamp Ilana had brought with her. Later that evening, Tom looks up from the rubble and sees many similiar lights shining in the city.
