The Battle of Betazed - Charlotte Douglas [21]
Enaren explained his failure to obtain more ryetalyn, and a shiver of fear for the children traveled through the group. “But I will try again tomorrow. Meanwhile, we must continue fumigating and setting traps for vermin.”
He yielded the floor to Okalan, the council member who oversaw water and supplies. “The increased Jem’Hadar patrols make it almost impossible for us to reach the river. We must halve our water rations. We have pipes and cisterns in place, but the rainy season is still weeks away.”
Grumbles filled the air, and Lwaxana noted with satisfaction that Sorana had the decency to look ashamed.
After Okalan took his seat, Lwaxana rose to present her report. The most skilled among them in diplomacy and negotiations, she had been assigned the task of planning strategy against the invaders. “If Sark Enaren delivered our message to Starfleet, help should arrive soon. The Federation knows that the longer they wait, the harder it’ll be to oust the Dominion.”
“And what if Starfleet doesn’t come?” a cavat farmer from Condar village demanded.
“Sooner or later, they will,” she said. “Betazed is part of the Federation. Our sons and daughters serve in Starfleet.”
The farmer leaped to his feet and said aloud what the rest of them already knew. “We can’t be idle waiting for Starfleet! There’s a ketracel-white distillery near my farm. If we blow up the cursed thing, the Jem’Hadar will die.”
With revulsion, Lwaxana pictured the tubes puncturing the green-gray skin and carrying the enzyme that kept the soldiers alive. “Your plan would be a good one, but for one other fact. Our operatives have witnessed ketracel-white being unloaded from freighters arriving from Sentok Nor, so there must be another distillery there. If so, the Jem’Hadar would continue to receive their sustenance, and the retaliation against our people for the destruction of the distillery would be savage.”
Enaren shook his head sadly. “Matters cannot become more savage than they already are. The lists of dead and missing are growing by the hour. And our operatives on the outside have noted a disturbing trend.”
“What kind of trend?” Lwaxana asked and felt the assembly hold their collective breath, bracing themselves for bad news.
“When the Dominion forces first arrived,” Enaren said, “they took away thousands of our healthy and strong young people—”
“Slave labor for their damned space station,” Okalan said with a scowl. “None of them returned. We must assume most were worked to death. And those who survived are still slaves on the station.”
Enaren nodded. “For the past few weeks, however, the list of missing reveals that the Jem’Hadar are abducting the most talented of our telepaths.”
Lwaxana stiffened at the news. “Why take only those with the greatest ability?”
Enaren shrugged. “Either the Jem’Hadar are killing talented telepaths in hopes of crippling our ability to communicate with one another—”
“Or,” Lwaxana suggested, “the Dominion has become interested in their talents for some other reason.”
Enaren set his lips in a grim line. He glanced first to the council and then across the hundreds gathered in the chamber. “We have many of the most talented telepaths of Betazed here in this room. The Jem’Hadar will be looking for them. We must be even more vigilant than before.”
“If we’re lucky,” Okalan said, “the enemy will assume we managed to escape the planet and call off the search.”
“I don’t think we can hope for that,” Lwaxana said. “If the Jem’Hadar really are somehow targeting our strongest telepaths, they’ll scour every village and burn every forest to find us.”
“We can’t just sit here and wait for them to come for us,” the cavat farmer yelled. “We have to fight.”
“We’re doing all we can,” Lwaxana snapped.
“Which hasn’t been nearly enough,” Enaren replied. “Our hope now is that our message got through, and that Tevren will be brought to us.”
Uneasiness rippled through the room like a foul wind. None, Lwaxana knew, liked the idea. “If anyone has an alternate plan,” she challenged, “the council is open to hear