Cardassia and Andor

by Una McCormack

  5

  “You will go back with me tonight,” Vretha said. She was draped over the settee, her official parliamentary robes spread over the woolen coverlet like a rich crimson stain. The combination of the exquisite furniture and the fancy robes lent her an imperious air—an air, Shar imagined, such as a queen might have. A hand-blown glass carafe of wine sat on a low-standing wrought iron table beside her; she poured a goblet for herself, sipped from the rim, and plugged the carafe without offering Shar a drink of his own.

  Not that Shar felt snubbed: he wouldn’t have taken one if she’d offered. Standing before her, like a subject paying homage to his fief, he had to confess some surprise at her relative calm. Not once since the audience started had she raised her voice or hurled accusations. She’d understood his reasons for coming to Cheshras Island—even commended the wisdom of his choice. Fine. He still didn’t trust her, nor was he willing to comply with her demands before his questions were answered. After a time, he said, “It isn’t safe to travel. Between the demonstrations and the typhoons—”

  “The demonstrations have been quelled,” Charivretha said, polishing off her goblet of wine and pouring another. “Homeworld Security has been deployed to restore order in the provinces where violence broke out, to keep it from reigniting. As for the weather, the route over the polar ice cap into the outer atmosphere in my government transport isn’t as dangerous as piloting up and over the storm in the kind of passenger shuttle available in Thelasa-vei.”

  “What if I choose to stay?”

  Vretha tilted her head to one side and regarded Shar with a look that bordered on pity. “Oh my naïve chei! Sessethantis doesn’t want either of us here. If my visit didn’t make it easier for her to rid herself of you, I’d never have made it within these walls. Right now, she’s plotting my political downfall with her Visionist cronies.” She shook her head. “No, you will come with me. I have too much to accomplish to squander hours humoring Thantis.”

  “And Prynn?”

  Without hesitating, Vretha said, “Commander Vaughn’s daughter probably ought to stay here with Counselor Matthias. For her own safety. Homeworld Security is spread thin right now, and emotions are heated. As my chei, you are a target. You wouldn’t want her hurt, would you?”

  She has an answer for everything—as if she has anticipated each of my responses. Narrowing his eyes, he studied the emotional energy his zhavey exuded; she was too calm for one who, under the circumstances, should be anxious. He probed carefully. “You seem surprisingly well-informed about my movements.”

  “I’m still Andor’s representative to the Federation. I’m not without my resources.”

  Shar’s eyes narrowed. “Resources,” he repeated. “Then, they are, as usual, exemplary.”

  Vretha took a deep breath, rose from her chaise, and crossed to where Shar stood. Taking his chin in her hand, she tipped his face up so she could look directly into his eyes. “Let us put aside the games, Thirishar,” using her gentlest voice.

  But Shar sensed the tension rising in her. “Games? I don’t know what you are referring to—” He twisted his head, ever so gently, trying to dislodge her grip on his chin.

  She yanked him back and forced eye contact. Whatever technique she employed to shield herself from him dislodged. He saw—perceived—the resentment, the anguish consuming her.

  “I had you followed, Shar,” Charivretha said bluntly. “From Deep Space 9. I had someone aboard the Viola who kept track of you for me.”

  “You spied on me.” He whispered the words, his muscles tensing.

  “In my place, what would you have done? You haven’t shown yourself to be one who honors his obligations.”

  “And have you honored the legal separation of me from my bondmates?”

  “You haven’t yet earned that right, Thirishar. When my seat on the Federation Council is secure, you can walk away. Not before.”

  “Is that what I am to you? A tool? A pawn?”

  “You have made it abundantly clear that you despise me—”

  “Hardly fair and not true—”

  “—and everything I stand for—that I accept. What you refuse to accept is that you are where you are today as a respected Starfleet science officer with a prestigious assignment, because of me. I put you on this path, Shar. I provided you with the opportunities that gave you the life you wanted.”

  “So I am nothing without you. Would be nothing without you.”

  “I gave you life!” she hissed.

  Standing close to Vretha risked ensnaring Shar in her seething emotions. He refused to be trapped by her. Striding over to the carafe, he poured wine into the used glass, and, throwing back his head, polished it off in one swallow, savoring the burn in his throat. Still, he couldn’t relinquish his incredulity. “You had me followed.”

  Her back partially to him, she shifted, casting a long, enveloping shadow.

  They remained encircled by silence for an extended moment and Shar wondered if perhaps the worst had passed.

  A horrifying realization occurred, a thought so audacious he couldn’t believe her capable of such a thing. “This isn’t the first time, is it?”

  Silence.

  He could barely form the words, let alone think them. “Since I left for the Academy?” Please let me be wrong.

  She slumped and she turned toward him, her face twisted. “I only wanted to protect you, Shar. You are so precious to me, my chei, you have to believe me.”

  Time stopped. Muted by shock, his rage found expression in his thudding heartbeat, in the ringing in his head, his trembling hands. He looked at his zhavey, seeking understanding, and found her graying visage unrepentant.

  Refusing to look at him, Vretha said finally, “I have asked Zhende to collect your things. He is bringing them to my craft. We will leave before daybreak.” As she passed by him on her way out the door, she patted his arm as she had when he was young and distraught, then brushed her antennae against his. He heard the solid, rapid cadence of her footsteps clicking on the stone floors as she walked away from him, leaving him alone. Where can I go? Home?

  I belong nowhere and to no one.

  Within him, darkness fell. What he believed, what he wanted, what he thought he knew became lost. Blindly, he searched the void inside him for answers—and found Prynn. He needed to be with Prynn; the realization came as naturally as breath. He needed her because she understood. She understood the black confused place inside him because the same place lived in her.

  Without knowing where he was headed, he walked—and ran—losing himself in the crowds of painted faces. Instinctually, he found his way to the sleep hall. He saw her, seated on top of her sleep bundle, her face weary with worry; peace washed over him.

  “Come with me,” he said, reaching for her hand.

  “Where?” she said, accepting him.

  “Anywhere.”

  They left together.

  * * *

  On the other side of a silken partitian, Anichent slowed his breath to near stillness. He hoped his silhouette wasn’t visible through the thin fabric. Forcing his emotions to remain steady was more challenging. He would not allow Shar to sense him, though in his ch’te’s agitated state, he couldn’t be certain that Shar was aware of anything beyond his own turmoil. Listening between the lines of Shar’s brief conversation with Prynn, Anichent’s suspicions of this human’s place in Shar’s life were confirmed. More than Vretha or Thantis—or even Dizhei—he recognized the passionate impetuousness that characterized Shar’s deepest emotional connections.

  Once before, Anichent had witnessed such expressions between Shar and Thriss. He had chosen not to see them, but he could no longer afford the luxury of blindness.

  Those individuals for whom Shar cared most were those he was slowest to let into his life. Why that was, Anichent couldn’t say. He suspected that the deepest emotional places frightened him. Shar had never been comfortable accessing those parts of himself, reserving his most demonstrative aff
ections for those who didn’t threaten to take him to those deep places.

  Hurt as he was by Shar’s unintentional recklessness with others’ feelings, however, Anichent’s heart ached more for his ch’te than for himself. Because if what Anichent had begun to suspect was true, Shar was in very real danger, with no way to know who could be trusted, and no telling what their unknown enemies might do if Anichent tipped his hand too soon.

  Anichent crept out of his hiding place and, easing along the walls, followed after Shar and Prynn.

  * * *

  “You’re certain you can do this?” Shar asked.

  Prynn didn’t even look at him as she continued powering up the transport they’d chosen from those being stored in the keep’s deserted hangar facility. With the weather getting worse, they needed something sturdier than the saucer car they’d arrived in. “I’ve flown under worse conditions. Remember that flight over the Prentara homeworld in the Chaffee?”

  “Yes. We crashed.”

  “Shut up, Shar.”

  “I simply don’t want you putting yourself at risk,” Shar said, studying the navigational data as it scrolled up the console display. “I’ll be fine if we remain at the keep.”

  No, you won’t. And that’s why we’re getting out of here, even if means we have to bend the rules to do it. However, “borrowing” one of Thantis’s shuttles for a little jaunt to Harbortown would definitely make things worse between him and her, not to mention between him and Vretha, probably between Vretha and Thantis, too—God, this was complicated! Small wonder if he was having second thoughts. She halted her check on the vehicle’s engines and looked at Shar, offering him a reassuring smile. “As long as you’re fine with it, this trip’s a go. I’ll take care of you.”

  “I believe that,” he said simply. “And no, I haven’t changed my mind. The longer I remain here, the more I feel buried alive.”

  “I understand that feeling,” Prynn said.

  “I know you do.”

  “Good,” she said, tapping in the last series of diagnostic commands. “After everything we’ve both been through, what’s a little bit of wind and rain?”

  “More than a little.” Shar began reeling off facts from the viewscreen. “We have seventy kilometers to traverse before we pass into the climate-controlled zone where temperatures are holding steady at a comfortable twenty-five degrees Celsius. Before we get there, however, meteorological data indicate we’ll face winds of hundred-plus kilometers per hour and a wind chill of minus thirty.”

  “Stop worrying.” She examined the power levels and energy flow, hoping that the temperatures wouldn’t cause any systems to act up. Their crate really wasn’t much more than an overpowered hovercar, engineering-wise. Shar’s concern might not be entirely misplaced. She brought the engines online, and a low-pitched whine slowly wound up to a healthy hum. “Looks like we’re good to go.”

  Shar strapped himself in. “Your orders, Captain?”

  The promotion made her laugh. “Keep an eye on engineering. I’ll handle navigation,” Prynn said, and paused to call up a map of the keep’s vehicle bay. She would have to steer the shuttle through a series of tunnels before reaching the launch doors just outside the keep’s northern gate. Since the launch queue was empty, she didn’t wait to begin piloting the shuttle through the metal-plated shafts, guided by long, thin strips of lighting embedded into the floors and ceilings, noting the steady gain in altitude as they approached the surface.

  “Activating launch doors,” Prynn said.

  “We’re clear to exit.”

  “Taking her out.”

  A gust of wind smacked into their starboard side. Instinctively, Prynn tapped in a series of commands to compensate for the rough atmospheric conditions, while Shar kept vigil over the stats being spewed onto his screen. The rough ride continued, however, as wind-propelled flotsam crashed into their vehicle. The limitations of smaller craft designed only for lower atmospheric travel tended to annoy her. What she’d do for a zippy little Mark 10 shuttle right now!

  * * *

  Once they came within range of the weather-controlled zone around Harbortown, they discovered that a clear spring night awaited them.

  It being three hours past Deepening, fasting and prayer had ended; Shar suspected the festivities would be in full swing by the time they crossed over the Nitra Bridge. Having grown up with only a rudimentary knowledge of the ancient traditions, he had no idea what to expect and he didn’t care. It appeared that Prynn felt similarly, showing no signs of apprehension about their chosen course. She hadn’t asked for explanations and Shar hadn’t offered. He had yet to fully share the circumstances that prompted his run from the keep. The confrontation with Vretha on the heels of his emotional encounter with Dizhei and Ancient had left him feeling frayed; he had to escape. But, as with all his decisions, there would be consequences. Shar had no doubt of this.

  So be it.

  As soon as she discovered they’d left in one of her vehicles, Thantis would undoubtledly alert the local authorities. He and Prynn would eventually be found and brought back to the keep—she had enough connections that there were few places on Cheshras where they could hide. He’d explained this to Prynn, who’d received the news in stride. Knowing the risks they faced, Prynn had still supported his decision to leave and Shar had been more grateful than he could express to her. She trusted him. He couldn’t say the same for his zhavey.

  They managed to park without complication in a subterranean public facility not far from the bridge. As they rode to the surface in a lift, Prynn turned to him wearing a lively expression. “So how does it feel to be an outlaw?”

  “Outlaw?”

  “Criminal.”

  “Truthfully?”

  She nodded.

  “Liberating.”

  Tossing back her head, she laughed, deep and throaty. “Me too. Have you considered what kinds of career options are open to us now that we’re fugitives? Me, I’d like to be a pirate. Establish a base in the Badlands.”

  Initially, he wasn’t sure how to take her comment. He cast a sidelong glance at her, looking for clues.

  Stepping out of the lift into the crowds filling the plaza above the parking facility, Prynn strode forward as if she owned the ground she walked on; her confident demeanor drew stares from virtually everyone they passed. Her playful banter of being forced into a pirate’s life notwithstanding, the possibility of being hunted by the Harbortown constabulary or incurring Vretha’s wrath seemed not to bother her.

  He’d chosen the perfect person to run away with.

  “The Orion Syndicate is always looking for good pilots,” he said, deciding to play along. He’d observed this kind of repartee hanging out in Vic’s with Nog though he’d never had a chance to practice before. Time to try something new.

  “Orion Syndicate? Why bother with them—they’re yesterday’s bad guys. We should go into business for ourselves.”

  “And how could a scientist help a pirate?”

  “Are you kidding? Assuring the purity of whatever it is we smuggle. Devising clever new products to sell on the black market—genetically modified foods that make people grow taller or help them get thinner—”

  “Make a contribution to civilization, in other words.”

  “That’s the sarcasm thing again, right Shar?”

  He quirked a corner of his mouth into what he hoped was a smile.

  Pursing her lips in mock solemnity, she said, “Hmm. For now, I’d stick with the sarcasm. You haven’t quite mastered the smiling part yet.”

  They followed the crowds heading over the first span of the Nitra Bridge. From a guidemap they’d found in the shuttle’s database, he remembered that the Nitra was a kilometer-long pedestrian walkway spanning the Frost River, linking this land “finger” to the series of mountains encircling the ocean harbor, with the Moss River beyond Harbortown creating another natural boundary.

  Her usual long, rapid steps gradually slowed to a stop at the first pyl
on. Shar caught up with her and stood behind her, leaning over her shoulder to take in her view.

  “Oh my,” she whispered.

  Beyond the bridge’s end, Harbortown’s peaks rose like a series of dark jeweled monoliths out of the horizon; it was as if a painted starscape had fallen from the sky and crowned the city. Glints of every color sparkled in pockets between the buildings, while wavy ribbons of light snaked up and around the sides of the ramparts, creating elaborate curlicues and spidery bursts. Even at this distance, muted cheers, squeals, and celebratory shouts imposed over a percussive heartbeat of drums, cymbals, and gongs could be heard over the river waters far below, foaming and rushing toward the sea. On the other side of the bridge span, Shar could see the spiny profiles of the Guardian towers that kept watch over the crashing cataracts below them, and the city on the other side. In ancient times, Shar explained, he and Prynn would have been required to prove their worthiness to enter the city by engaging the watchtower guard in ritual combat. Today the darkened eyes of the empty towers—along with their distant siblings that watched over the other three ocean-bound rivers—presided over the revelry with nary a blink.

  Prynn took his hand. “Come on,” she said, and together they broke into a run across the span. She laughed as they snaked through the constantly shifting crowd, narrowly missing a few pedestrians who had veered into their path. Her jubilant laughter continued all the way across.

  When they reached the other side, Prynn was panting and sweating profusely. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Bending from the waist, she flashed him a grin as she slowly regained control of her breathing. She pulled at her understocking, rendered nearly transparent by her sweaty exertions, separating the sticky fabric from her body. Between the exertion and the unexpected humidity, he assumed, she must be nearly soaked through. He knew he’d feel more comfortable if he could remove a few layers, though he wasn’t sure how Prynn would react to such a suggestion.

  “We could try to find you a change of clothes in town,” Shar said.