First Place Winner Stardate 20501.26

Ode To Oriana - Catavina - Lt[JG] Aaron Dayune

© 2005 by Federation Space and the author pen named Aaron Dayune

Dreams. The stuff of vain and idle fantasy some say. But they are something many people take for granted. It's a view into the soul, and a reprieve from the reality that lies before all of us. I wish I could still dream, instead of lying awake on my bed, crying into my pillow every night. I can't dream anymore, I can barely sleep. I've watched, as people laugh that they don't have dreams. But they do, they just don't remember them. I'd remember if I could dream, if I had a dream; I would remember it and cherish it. When I try to think back, to when I used to sleep and dream, I try to think of all the dreams I used to have. I can't remember them though, as if they'd turned to ash, never to be seen again.

When they came, they destroyed so much, and took away our lives. Not just the physical atrocity of death, no, they broke us too. We weren't prepared for what they had in store for us. They had prepared for the occupation, oh yes. They planned every part of our torment, the lashing of our very souls.

Before they arrived, we were artisans, we were philosophers, we were spiritual. We still are spiritual, mostly because faith was the only thing we were left with. Some wondered why the Prophets punished us so, why they allowed us to languish in agony. I don't think it had anything to do with the Prophets: I think it had to do with our own ignorance, our blind naivety that drew us into conflict. We simply weren't prepared. It had nothing to do with Prophets, it had nothing to do with anything supernatural or spiritual.

But enough about that, I suppose you would like to hear my story. There is nothing to it really, just the memories of an old man... whatever memories I still cling to.

As I remember, the morning dew had just settled on the short-grass. It always felt funny to walk bare foot; the wetness kissing the soles of your feet. Oriana, my daughter, the one you are probably wondering about, she was only seven at the time. The sun had only been up for an hour, but she came running out of the house like it had been hanging above our heads the whole day; shining it's energy upon us.

"Why aren't you still sleeping?" I'd ask her.

"I'll sleep later," she'd reply to me, absolutely beaming. She was always like that you know, ever so bound with energy and enthusiasm.

That morning, she helped me cook breakfast for the rest of the house; my wife and two other boys. Even at the age of seven, she was an excellent cook; I could have left her alone to cook that morning, but we had too much fun making it together. The smell of the food probably woke Evia, my wife, though the boys were a little sluggish to join us. I never forced the boys up until they had to go to school, but they always woke to the smell of the food.

After the morning supper, Oriana helped me clean the dishes and Evia was surprised. Usually my daughter would be too full of energy to help me clean up. But this day she clung to me like there would be no other days left to hold me. I thought it was so cute, and I promised her that I would take her Drovanbak riding that night with the village trainer. She got so excited, and she started to pretend like she was riding one right there in the kitchen. It's a fond memory you know. Of course you know, I can see the smile on your face.

Clean-up was quick, and I scurried her along to get washed up for school. Giving Evia and I a little time to ourselves in the kitchen. There was a light music playing in the background, something your people would consider classical music, much like your violin and piano. Evia and I, we danced slowly in the kitchen. It wasn't anything special, my feet are clumsiest part of me, but she still danced with me, she said that was the reason she feel in love with me. I told her so, that morning, that I loved her, and she just laughed. Then my daughter caught us dancing and kissing near the sink. Her little face scrunched up, so Evia and I stopped, but were still laughing to ourselves.

As I walked Oriana to school, she looked up at me quite a few times. We hadn't even been more than fifteen steps away from the house and she had looked to me at least that many times. I picker her up and asked her what was wrong. She didn't say anything, and just hugged me instead. I thought she was trying to be cute, like she always was with me. But I know better now... maybe she had been trying to tell me, but she didn't know the words. Bright as she was, I don't think she could have described it.

Less than a mile from the school, that's when I saw the objects in the sky. At first, I wasn't sure what was happening, and I just smiled to my daughter and pointed up at them. She didn't say anything back, which I thought was odd then and now.

As we neared the school, actually, I think we made it to the school when one of the craft shot down from the sky. It landed several hundred yards away from the school. That's when I wondered what was going on, because I couldn't make out what kind of craft it was. It wasn't anything that I'd had ever seen built on planet, and nothing I had ever seen on the news. I just thought it was a merchant vessel, as sometimes happened: they would misinterpret the trading areas sometimes and come to our little marketplaces in the villages.

I kneeled down and gave Oriana a kiss good bye. She replied that she didn't want to go, that she wanted to stay with me and go hide at home. I asked her why she would want to hide at home, and hide from what. She didn't answer and just gave me a big hug. She said that she would see me again, and not to worry, no matter what happened. It was so cryptic, so odd, I couldn't help but have second thoughts letting her go into the school. It was if she had already resigned herself to the fate the befell us. When I saw the teacher come out of the school, waving Oriana onwards, I told her to run along and that I would see her that night.

That was the moment that I lost the ability to dream. I was watching as the school teacher was shot in the chest by one of the aliens; the grey lizard looking devils spawned from the darkest voids of space. Time seemed to slow down, and my legs felt like jelly. I tried to run so fast to my daughter, but one of them swiped her up before I reached her. All I could feel was the cold, hard metal alloy at the butt of one of their rifles strike against my face. I'm not the strongest of people either, and in that moment, I could taste not only the blood in my mouth, but the sand at his feet. But they didn't shoot me, instead they just laughed.

The eeriest part of the whole ordeal was that Oriana didn't scream when they took her. When I looked up from the dirt, she was simply looking at me, and with what I could have sworn was a smile. Somehow, she knew that they were coming that day, that I would still live to see her again. They didn't take me then, as I still lay in the dirt as they gathered the rest of the villagers children from the school. Tears came out of my eyes, but because the trauma to my face broke several blood vessels, they were tears of blood.

As I returned home, I was devastated to find it a smoldering wreck, Cardassians waiting for me to return. They laughed at me and pointed to my face, covered in blood from my tears. And my poor wife... the things they did to her, I could never say. Evia was almost lucky in a way though, because they killed her right before me at my house that day, so she didn't have to suffer from the disgrace of the defilement or from the harshness of the labor camps.

>From there on, most of my memories were of working for those evil bastards for nothing more than a single meal a day, and even then it was nothing more than gruel. But I kept working, and keeping them happy. At one point, one of them learned that I had been a tailor before brought to the internment camps. Gul Tular as I remember. Ah, he took me in, and I made clothing for him. He treated me well, at least, better than anybody else at the camp. But it wasn't easy. The other prisoners would beat me, claiming that I was a traitor, or that I assisted the Cardassians and their occupation. Some knew and understood, while others punished me. I took whatever was given to me, and never fought back. It's probably why I lived so long under occupation.

Almost twenty years had passed since the day they took my daughter away. I had lost all hope of ever seeing her alive, then again, I had lost all hope for anything. That's what happened you know, they beat you, tortured you, or simply kept you placated, and slowly they broke your hope. There wasn't any escape from their labor camps, and if you didn't work, then you got sent to the death camps. Some didn't work just so they could die.

But one day, I remembered Gul Tular saying that a member of the Obsidian Order was there to inspect the facility. I was supposed to clean up and get dressed in some nice clothing he had told me to make for myself a couple months prior. I didn't argue, and the Obsidian Order was always snooping around the camp, even if the Gul didn't know it. I did as he said though, got dressed and cleaned up all nice like.

When she walked in, I almost cried, and I could feel my heart beat five times faster. This time it was me who ran to her, and I hugged her, I hugged her so hard.

"Hello Daddy," she said to me, "Sorry for being so late."

I just smiled at her, and by that point I was crying. I couldn't stop saying her name, and it almost made her cry too. It was one of the most joyful moments of my life, seeing her again. She seemed happy too, and I had so many questions for her. I remember, she had a flower in her hair too. It was quite pretty, but nothing I'd ever seen before. Purple... it looked almost like a lily from Earth. Have you ever seen a lily? They are quite beautiful. But yes, I wanted to ask so many questions.

Instead, she started talking to me, told me about how she lived through those years after they took her away. Apparently the Gul of the ship that had landed, claimed her, and took her in as one of his own. As she grew older, they had non-permanent surgery performed on her so that she could go to normal Cardassian school. Oriana was always good with language, and she apparently caught on very easily.

It wasn't long before she managed to get her way into the Obsidian Order, her specialties at language assisted her in getting a position with the Intelligence arm of the Cardassian military regime. She even caught the eye of a young Gul while she was serving aboard his ship. Apparently they had married, and I was even a grandfather, though I wasn't sure how to take the news back then. Still, I was happy for her, and told her so.

That was the day that she got me out of the camp... right after they performed surgery on her so she looked Cardassian again: her husband, the adoptive father, and the family doctor were the only Cardassians that knew her true identity.

She set me up on this farm here, and promised that I would never be bothered by Cardassians again. And she was right, I never was. In fact, you've been the only visitor I have had since that faithful day. But I still never figured out how she knew she was going to be taken away, that I would live to see old age: live to see the fifty plus years of occupation. I'm now ninety years old... one of the longest living Bajorans to have survived the Occupation. But I still don't know, though I wish I did. I wonder if she knows that I can't dream, I wonder if she knows if I ever will. I almost don't want to dream now you know, because I think now, that if I were to dream, then I would die. It wouldn't be so bad to die now... I've lived a long while.

You take care, and who knows, maybe we'll be part of the Federation soon. Don't know why you would be looking for my daughter, but if you see her, tell her I miss her, that I still love her, and that I do still dream. I know it's a lie, but I want her to be happy, and it's just a little lie anyway.

Still never found out... maybe she can see the future. Bah, I'm just an old man, pay me no heed.

Take care stranger, I have to rest now. These bones ache when a storm is coming. You know the way out I am sure. Take care, take care... may the Prophets keep you.