The Cardassian turned, frustration on his face, but the expression swiftly changed to alarm as he caught sight of the law enforcer. His eyes darted left-right, as if he were looking for an escape route.
“Are you lost?” offered Darrah. He nodded in the direction of the flyer pads out toward the far end of the port compound. “These are the yards for the interstellar and orbital ships. Atmospheric flyers are over there.”
“I…I don’t require a flyer,” came the hesitant reply.
Darrah studied the alien and a name came to him. “Pa’Dar. You’re the scientist. I saw you with Kell in Ashalla.”
He got a nod in return. “That is correct. And you are Inspector Darrah, yes?”
“What are you doing here, Mr. Pa’Dar?”
The alien shifted uncomfortably. “I should be going, I think…”
“I’m asking because I have your best interests in mind.” Darrah slipped easily into his default manner for addressing suspects. “There are a lot of upset people in the city. People who blame Cardassians for what happened in orbit.”
“It wasn’t our fault,” Pa’Dar replied, but Darrah saw that the response was something automatic for him. He didn’t believe it. After this long working alongside the aliens, he knew them well enough to read the cues of their body language as well as any Bajorans. It was one of the skills that made him a good police officer.
“Why don’t you tell me why you want to go offworld.” Darrah closed the distance between them, making their conversation more intimate, less open. “And why you want to do it without your superiors knowing.”
Pa’Dar schooled his expression, realizing too late that he’d given away something of himself. “The Union’s ships are otherwise engaged, and I merely wanted to see the site for myself.”
A lie. Darrah knew it immediately. He decided to take a chance. Based on what he knew of the Cardassians, their culture was stratified into those in service to the military, the government, and the civilian populace. Each was looked down upon by the group above theirs, and Darrah had no doubt that as a scientist, Pa’Dar was used to being beleaguered by Kell’s men. “Your Central Command hasn’t been very open with its findings, despite what you said in Ashalla.”
There was a flash of understanding in Pa’Dar’s eyes, and Darrah smiled inwardly. He doesn’t trust the answers he’s been given, just like me.
“There’s no error in making a secondary evaluation,” came the reply. “It’s my job to take a closer look at things,” he concluded.
“Mine too,” added Darrah.
Pa’Dar stepped away. “I think I should follow the suggestion I was given and return to the enclave. I do not believe I will be able to do more here.” He inclined his head, his disappointment clearly evident. “Until we meet again, Inspector Darrah.”
“Mr. Pa’Dar. Perhaps when that happens, we might find something more to talk about.”
“Such as?”
“Call it common interests.” For a moment, Darrah considered holding him, but what reason could he have given? He watched the alien thread his way toward the flyers.
Behind him, the chatter of the ground crew picked up and Darrah turned to see them break into motion. It was a sure sign that a ship was coming down, and within moments he saw a dot leading a white contrail out of the sky. It was an oval shuttlecraft with stubby winglets, the kind of short-range impulse ship that plied the spacelanes inside the B’hava’el system. Darrah watched the craft land, noting the symbol on the hull; the ship was one of a few auxiliaries in the service of the clergy, and as such it was exempt from the authority of the emergency bureau. When the embarkation ramp hit the apron, the third man out of the hatch was Gar Osen, gathering his robes in a fist to keep them from flapping in the wind generated by the idling thrusters.
Gar saw Darrah and waved to him. “Come to meet me?” The priest meant the words in jest, but the lawman detected a definite edge of weariness.
Darrah shook his head. “Just passing through.” He glanced over Gar’s shoulder. “Is the Kai with you?”
Gar’s expression saddened. “No. No, Vedek Arin had the pilot take us down over the sea first, so we could take Her Eminence back to the retreat at Calash.”
“Where have you been?”
“Derna,” said the ranjen, indicating the sky. Bajor’s fourth moon was just visible, peeking slightly over the horizon. “A dedication ceremony, nothing more, but the kai insisted on joining us. I wish she had not.”
Darrah nodded. “She’s no better, then?”
“Meressa says the Prophets are testing her,” Gar said in a fatigued voice, “that they are testing all of us. She refuses to be sidelined, as much as Arin would wish it.”
The lawman said nothing. He had known a friend of his father’s who had died from Yerrin syndrome. The old man had not gone easily, lingering for years with the pain as his own blood slowly turned to poison in his veins.
Gar sighed. “Let’s talk of other things. Have you spoken to Tomo recently? She didn’t come to services this week, and she’s seemed more distant than usual.”
Darrah blinked. “You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what? I’ve been on Derna for the last three days. It’s a bit rural up there.”
“Of course…” He took a breath. “Osen, she’s gone. She joined the task force going out to look for signs of the Tzenkethi.”
“What?” Gar blinked in surprise. “What could she hope to do there?”
“I’m not sure,” Darrah admitted, “but when we last spoke she was agitated by something. She told me that she could make a difference if she went with them.”
The priest frowned. “Well. I’ll say a prayer in her name, then.” He sighed. “It makes me sad to say it, but Vedek Arin was one of those who supported Kubus’s petition for the fleet’s mission. I find some very unpleasant commonalities in the interests of those two men.”
Darrah patted his friend on the shoulder and leaned in. “There are more who agree with Kubus than those who don’t, especially here in Korto.” He kept his voice low so that it wouldn’t carry far. “All the events of recent days, the Cemba incident and the deaths. I can’t shake the feeling that something more is going on. Something hidden from us.”
Gar’s eyes widened. “I will admit…I too have had some concerns of late. But is there any evidence? You’re a lawman, Mace. You know what’s needed.”
He nodded again. “You’re not saying anything that hasn’t occurred to me already, believe me.” Darrah’s chrono pinged suddenly and he shot a glance at it; the alarm was warning him that he had a staff meeting back at the precinct. “I have to go. Look, we’ll talk some more about this later. In the meantime, just…keep your eyes and ears open, eh?”
Gar nodded once. “A priest always listens. It’s one of the things we do best.”
Gar watched his friend go before following the rest of the group toward the flyer bays. He drew into himself, thinking on Darrah’s words. Mace was always a suspicious soul, that had been true for his entire life, and in his line of work, it fulfilled a function that did the community good. For Gar, it did not come so easily. He had joined the priesthood because he believed in the fundamental good in people, but what good could there be in those who had caused such a horror as the bombing of the Lhemor? The Oralians were a decent, honest group of souls who came with genuine reverence and honor for the Bajoran faith. Since that night in the library of the Naghai Keep, he had learned much of their Way and of the parallels it shared with the worship of the Celestial Temple. It made him feel sick inside to contemplate that serpents with hate in their hearts might lurk among them.
“Brother Gar!” He turned at the sound of his name and halted in surprise. In his pastel robes, the Cardassian cleric Pasir was crossing the landing pad toward him.
He bobbed his head in greeting. The Oralian priest’s usual open smile was absent. Pasir seemed muted, and he kept glancing around as if he were afraid of being seen by someone.
“Gar
,” he said, coming close. “I am so pleased I found you. I’ve been looking for you for days, but I heard you were offplanet.”
“I was on Derna.”
Pasir nodded. “Yes, I know. I had nowhere else to turn. I did not want to chance speaking to anyone else.”
The Cardassian was afraid. Gar scanned the alleys between the hangars for any sign that Darrah could still be around, but he saw none. One of the prylars from the shuttle threw him a look from the hatch of the skimmer that was to take them back to Kendra. Gar glanced back at Pasir and saw the pleading on his face. “Go on ahead without me,” he called out. “I’ll get a flyer and follow you.” The prylar nodded and shut the hatch behind him. The skimmer took off, leaving Gar and Pasir alone.
“Thank you, Ranjen, thank you.” Pasir gripped Gar’s arm. “You have no idea how important this is.”
Gar studied the alien, thinking of his parting words to Mace. The Cardassian wanted him to listen, and he found he wanted to know what the Oralian had to tell him.
“There’s something I have to show to you,” said Pasir.
“Something terrible, something that threatens both our faiths.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “I am being coerced, brother. Men with huge and frightening plans hold sway over me, and I cannot let it go on any longer. I must confess.” The alien’s eyes were filled with desperation. “Will you help me?”
“Pasir,” Gar began. “If you are afraid for your life, I can see you safe. Inspector Darrah Mace of the City Watch is a close personal friend, and I—”
“No! No one else!” hissed the cleric. “You’re the only one I can trust, Osen. The only one I know that is untouched by the stain of the Obsidian Order. Spies and liars, all of them. They caused the Lhemor to be destroyed. They are the root of the danger.” His fingers tightened on Gar’s arm. “Please, just come with me.”
At last Gar gave a slow nod. “All right. Lead the way, and I will listen.”
The door to Kell’s private office closed behind Dukat with a faint thud of magnetic bolts, and at the edge of his hearing he picked up the whine of a broad-spectrum jamming array. Even here, in the heart of the Union embassy, the jagul was taking no chances that his security would be compromised.
Dukat felt ambivalent with an empty holster at his side; the guard at the turbolift had taken the dal’s weapon and placed it in safekeeping. Although he still had a push-dagger secreted in the sleeve of his uniform, something about having the capacity to disintegrate Danig Kell where he stood always made Dukat feel more comfortable in the man’s presence.
Kell made a steeple of his fingers across the top of his desk. “Don’t stand there like a trainee before the commandant, Dukat,” he snapped. “Get over here.”
Dukat didn’t move. Instead, he gave the woman seated before Kell a level stare. “Your summons indicated that this was a meeting of senior officers only. There’s a civilian in the room.”
Rhan Ico arched an eyebrow. “Really, Dalin Dukat, there’s no need for such formality. The jagul and I have been engaging in a very entertaining discussion.”
Ico’s words confirmed what he suspected: Kell’s “meeting” had started much earlier—it was only now that Dukat was being allowed to join them. His lips thinned in a sneer. He was reaching the end of his patience with Kell and the situation on Bajor. He had come to Dahkur seeking a resolution, and in that moment he decided that he would have it. Returning to Cardassia with nothing to show would only serve to reinforce his already ill-starred status with Central Command.
Kell’s face was heavy with anger, and for the first time Dukat guessed that it wasn’t directed at him. As he crossed the room, Dukat saw that the power of the confrontation taking place here did not lay with the jagul; it lay in the hands of the woman. What must she have said to him before I entered? Dukat had a reasonable idea what it might have been.
“I’ve received several intercepts from officers on ships stationed in Bajor orbit,” Kell was terse. “It seems that the Kashai has been conducting sensor sweeps of the orbital debris zone around the Cemba Station without consent from this embassy. This was done on your orders, Dukat.”
“I don’t deny it,” the dal replied. “I offered the service of my ship and crew to the squadron commander involved in recovery of the Lhemor wreckage. He refused, despite the fact that the Kashai has a full complement of technical staff currently standing idle.” He paused. “I decided to act on my own authority.”
Ico made a small noise of amusement, but Kell found his words anything but entertaining. “And that, Dal, is why you have so few friends at Command. You show too much temerity. A Cardassian officer follows orders.”
“A Cardassian officer serves his Union,” Dukat retorted.
“How does waiting dead in space do that?” He folded his arms. “It was your intention to marginalize me from the moment I arrived, and now, even in the face of this…this incident, you continue to do so.”
“The tragic circumstances that led to the loss of the Lhemor and the deaths on Cemba Station are under investigation,” Ico added. “They are not your concern, Dal.”
Dukat threw back his head with a bitter bark of laughter. “What do you take me for, woman? Do I look like a simpleton to you? Please don’t insult my intelligence again. Save your lies for the Bajorans.” He bared his teeth. “I think everyone in this room understands what took place on the Lhemor.”
“You have a theory?” Ico said blandly. “Oh, please do enlighten us.”
Dukat’s hand balled into a fist, and he resisted the urge to backhand the insouciant smile off the woman’s face. “How many agents of the Obsidian Order have you inserted into Bajor since the first contact delegation, I wonder? Five, ten? Twenty? A hundred?” Dukat stabbed a finger at Kell. “More than he knows of, I would imagine.”
Ico’s insipid smile never faltered, not for one moment. “I’m afraid I don’t follow you, Dal. I have no knowledge of espionage. I’m only a scientist, a cultural ethnologist and observer.”
“Of course you are,” Dukat retorted. “A very well-informed, very well-connected scientist. And yet there seems to be precious little of your work in the public record, Professor Ico. When did you last publish? There was nothing current in Cardassia’s libraries that I could find before I left for Bajor.”
Her smile widened. “You wanted to learn more about me? Oh, I’m flattered.”
The woman wasn’t going to give him anything that easily, he could see it in her manner. He looked at Kell, seeking a softer target. “She told you what happened, didn’t she? That’s why she’s here.”
The jagul eyed him. “Contrary to what you might believe, Dukat, there are decisions made above your rank that you are not and will never be privy to.”
Dukat glared at Ico. “The Obsidian Order destroyed the Lhemor. It wasn’t the Tzenkethi. Even with the holes in the Bajoran security perimeter, the Tzenkethi would never have been allowed to do something like this. We would have stopped them first.”
Ico inclined her head and mused, as if Dukat were positing some mildly diverting conundrum for her to untangle. “An interesting supposition. Let’s consider that possibility, then, shall we? Purely as a hypothetical thought experiment, you understand?” She straightened in her chair. “Imagine that the Obsidian Order did indeed initiate the destruction of the freighter Lhemor and the resultant loss of life, both Oralian and Bajoran—”
“There were Union soldiers on that station as well,” Dukat grated.
The woman continued. “What motive might the Order have for such a deed?”
“Chaos and mayhem are your stock-in-trade,” he spat.
“You thrive on it. Keep others off balance while you plot and scheme.”
Ico chuckled. “I would imagine that chaos is far from the goal of the Obsidian Order. Such organizations seek stability, Dukat. Harmony for all Cardassia.” She shook her head. “No, I submit to you that, given the scenario you imagined, the net result of the Lhemor’s destructio
n will bring a staged change in Bajoran extraplanetary policy that will bring them closer to the Cardassian aegis—”
“You spineless fools.” He snarled the words, heavy with venom, and with such vehemence that for the first time Ico’s featureless mask of indifference slipped.
“Watch your tone!” Kell snorted. “I’ll have you cashiered.”
Dukat ignored the threat. “That is the endgame for your great plan? You’ve been here for five years and that is the best you can do?” He snorted derisively. “You don’t know anything about these people! Both of you, you sit cosseted inside your compound and your enclave, playing off against one another, living well while Cardassia continues to starve!” He was shouting now, anger roiling in the air like smoke, and he glared at the woman. “Obsidian is opaque, but you are transparent. Do you think that your desires are hidden from the rest of us?” He leaned forward. “I know what you want. I know all about the legends of the Orbs.”
When Ico spoke again, her voice was icy and he knew he had struck a nerve. “A metered progression is the best approach to any cultural intervention when direct military force is not an option.”
Dukat sneered. “I understand why I was sent here now. You’ve become comfortable and hidebound, like the Bajorans. What’s needed here is boldness.” He shot Kell a hard look. “Temerity, Jagul.”
Kell came to his feet. “You insubordinate whelp! How dare you stand before me and judge my orders! You will respect my rank and do as I command you!”
“No.” Ico stopped Kell dead with a single word. She wasn’t looking at them anymore. Instead, the woman’s eyes were unfocused, seeing inward. “He’s correct.”
“What?” Kell’s bluster faltered.
“He’s right. It has been five years, and still Bajor remains in a state of grace, outside the rule of Cardassia. We have been remiss. Too much effort spent on infrastructure and not enough on operational concerns…” She turned to face Dukat, and it was as if he were looking at a different person. The studied mien of Rhan Ico faded like mist and in its place there was a dissimilar woman. She looked at Dukat in the way that he would sight down the barrel of a weapon toward a target, nodding to herself. “Let me cut to the heart of your frustration, Dukat,” she told him.
Star Trek Terok Nor 01: Day of the Vipers Page 26