Due to trampledamage's contest entry this month, this story came up in the discussion and trampledamage wanted to read it, so here it is:
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 get 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 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.
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 of 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 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 had been 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 had used this opportunity to free themselves.
But what was he about to do, now? He was still stranded on Cardassia, in the middle of a devastating war and a relief effort for the city wasn't very likely to start anytime soon. Thinking about this, he roamed through the heaps of rubble from which smoke rose, smelling terribly, like burned flesh – a smell he'd never forget.
On one of the large heaps that had probably been a house, a Cardassian woman knelt and digged in the debris with her bare hands. For a while he just stood there, watching, until she noticed him and startled. He could read the result of all the propaganda in her eyes. To her, he was a criminal and a terrorist, who had comitted terrible crimes against the Cardassian people. She recovered quickly from the shock, though, and relaxed a little as she realized that she wasn't in any imminent danger.
"I guess, it doesn't make any sense, does it?", she suddenly said, sounding slightly desperate. She added, "They're all dead, aren't they?"
He searched for an adequate answer but all he could come up with was a meaningless "Well...".
She sat down, about to start crying or worse, so he sat beside her, offering her the bottle of Kanar he had looted from the Legate's personal supply. Surprisingly, it did cheer her up a little. For a while they continued to just sit there. She was staring in the distance and he was looking at her delicate face.
"What's your name?"
"Ilana."
"Mine's Tom. I'll help you searching."
Even though he didn't really know why, they both continued digging, under the light of a small lamp Ilana had brought with her. Later that evening, Tom looked up from the rubble and saw many similiar lights shining in the city.
The Lights of Lakarian City
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 get 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 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.
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 of 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 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 had been 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 had used this opportunity to free themselves.
But what was he about to do, now? He was still stranded on Cardassia, in the middle of a devastating war and a relief effort for the city wasn't very likely to start anytime soon. Thinking about this, he roamed through the heaps of rubble from which smoke rose, smelling terribly, like burned flesh – a smell he'd never forget.
On one of the large heaps that had probably been a house, a Cardassian woman knelt and digged in the debris with her bare hands. For a while he just stood there, watching, until she noticed him and startled. He could read the result of all the propaganda in her eyes. To her, he was a criminal and a terrorist, who had comitted terrible crimes against the Cardassian people. She recovered quickly from the shock, though, and relaxed a little as she realized that she wasn't in any imminent danger.
"I guess, it doesn't make any sense, does it?", she suddenly said, sounding slightly desperate. She added, "They're all dead, aren't they?"
He searched for an adequate answer but all he could come up with was a meaningless "Well...".
She sat down, about to start crying or worse, so he sat beside her, offering her the bottle of Kanar he had looted from the Legate's personal supply. Surprisingly, it did cheer her up a little. For a while they continued to just sit there. She was staring in the distance and he was looking at her delicate face.
"What's your name?"
"Ilana."
"Mine's Tom. I'll help you searching."
Even though he didn't really know why, they both continued digging, under the light of a small lamp Ilana had brought with her. Later that evening, Tom looked up from the rubble and saw many similiar lights shining in the city.
