The Battle of Betazed - Charlotte Douglas [51]
“Yes, I’ve seen it,” Deanna said quietly, meeting his eyes. “You know what else I’ve seen? Casualty lists. Names of dead Starfleet officers that seem to go on forever. I’ve seen the wreckage of spacecraft that once held hundreds, sometimes thousands of lives. And among the survivors of such carnage, I’ve seen men and women, wounded not just in body but in mind. And on this very day, Director, I felt a family of Betazoids—a father, a mother, and their children—as they were shot dead by Jem’Hadar while trying to enter Jarkana.
“The Federation isn’t winning this war, sir,” she went on, her words gathering strength as she spoke. “And Starfleet fears that by the time it can muster a force capable of ousting the Jem’Hadar from Betazed, the Dominion will have used our world to launch attacks upon others. But if this nightmare continues, it will not, it will not be because we didn’t do everything in our power to end it. So please don’t ask me how I can go along with this until you’ve seen what I’ve seen.”
Deanna sensed her mentor’s turmoil, even though he struggled to keep his emotions shielded. No matter how hard he tried, however, he couldn’t hide his supreme loathing at the prospect of loosing Tevren on the civilized world.
Vaughn spoke quietly. “With your cooperation, Director, we may be able to do this quickly and with a minimum of bloodshed. We certainly don’t want any innocents to be hurt in the process. But make no mistake, we’ll take Tevren whether you help us or not.”
Lanolan covered his face with his hands. “Please give me a moment. I need to think.”
Taking pity on her old friend, Deanna crossed to the replicator and ordered his favorite drink, one whose consumption Madame Lanolan had always rationed severely: Saurian brandy.
She handed the glass to the director, who chugged it down as if it were vile medicine. He returned the snifter with a quivering hand. Again she sensed his emotions were closed and blocked, but she better than anyone else in the room could understand his anguish.
“You would truly storm the prison?” Lanolan asked Vaughn in disbelief.
No one could mistake the determination in the commander’s eyes. “We’ll do what we have to.”
“But my guards are unarmed,” Lanolan said. “The only means the Jem’Hadar left us to contain our prisoners is the force fields.”
Deanna knelt beside Lanolan’s chair and placed her hand on his arm. “Please, help us. We don’t want to hurt anyone.”
The old man slumped in his chair. “You’ve obviously had time to think through the ramifications of this insane scheme. As for me, I can see only tragedy in what you propose.”
“The tragedy if we don’t go through with it is far worse. Director,” Deanna prodded gently. “We’re running out of time.”
He lifted his head and met her gaze. “I’ll take you to him, but I’ll also hold you responsible for what he unleashes.”
Deanna shivered at the director’s declaration and at the violent emotions clashing inside the man in spite of his attempts to hide them.
With a weary shove, Lanolan regained his feet and crossed the room. From a compartment by the replicator, he removed an older model of a Federation phaser and concealed it in his smock. “If we run into Jem’Hadar on the way to the prison, you’ll need all the firepower you can get.”
“Then let’s move out,” Vaughn said.
The trek through Lanolan’s back gardens and up the hill to the prison took only minutes. At the director’s instructions, the guards at the gate dropped the force field for the group to pass into the prison grounds. Deanna stared around her in disbelief. The exotic gardens she remembered from her internship were choked with weeds and dying from neglect.
The director read her thoughts and shook his head sadly. “Outdoor activity had to be discontinued once the occupation started,” he explained. “Since we’re no longer permitted weapons, we can’t risk arming our prisoners with gardening tools.”
He led the away team through the administrative section