by S. D. Perry
“Yes, it is, Lieutenant,” Julian said absently. “And thank you for volunteering to come along. It’ll be good to have someone there who knows the territory. I have a feeling we’ll need every advantage we can get…which brings me to my next request. Colonel?”
“Doctor?”
“I’d like to ask Taran’atar to accompany us.”
Kira could feel her face knitting into a frown at the suggestion. “You realize that if what Cole told you is true, there’s liable to be quite a few Jem’Hadar there.”
“Which is precisely why I want one there who’s on our side,” Bashir said. “He’ll be able to offer us valuable insights about how they think, their possible responses…” He paused, studying Kira’s face. “I take it you don’t care for the idea.”
“I don’t. This is getting crazier by the second. You’re talking about going to a planet in the Badlands with only one or two other people…”
“Possibly three,” Ezri chipped in.
“We’ll talk about that later,” Kira snapped. “With one or two other people, one of them a Jem’Hadar, so that you can confront someone who has set himself up as the local deity. And for what? To save Starfleet some embarrassment…?”
“No, Nerys,” Bashir said. “To preserve the peace. To save some lives. I don’t like this any better than you, but it’s the lesser of two evils.”
Kira felt the pressure behind her eyes building. “All right, I’ll speak with Taran’atar and see how he feels about this. He might not be able to do this, you know. Odo told him to obey me.”
“And if you tell him to listen to me, then he will,” Bashir said.
“Or any of us, for that matter,” Dax added.
“I’m not sure it works that way,” Kira said. “Or, if it does, I’m not sure I want it to.”
“He’s a Jem’Hadar,” Bashir said. “He’ll do as he’s ordered. That’s their raison d’être.”
“This one might be different,” Kira said. “That might be the reason Odo sent him here.”
“Or he might be the purest example of the species,” Bashir mused. “Maybe Odo wanted us to better understand what we’re going to be dealing with the next time we meet the Dominion.”
It was an intriguing question and Kira normally would have been happy to debate the topic with her friends and colleagues, but the immediate issue would be what Taran’atar would say about the idea. “Computer, locate Taran’atar.”
“Taran’atar is in holosuite one,” it intoned.
Curious expressions all around the table.
“How much longer is he scheduled to be there?”
“His session will expire in twenty minutes.”
“Then I’d better get down there soon,” Kira said. “Julian, I’ll call you when I find out what Taran’atar wants to do. Either way, don’t slow down your preparations on his account. I’m guessing he’s a quick packer.”
“I’ll have Bowers assign you a runabout,” Vaughn said. “Any preferences, Ro?”
“The Euphrates,” Ro said. “She handles well in turbulent atmosphere. Sindorin has some heavy storms.”
“Good choice,” Vaughn said. “Six hours from now sound all right?” Ro and Bashir agreed and Vaughn left the room, followed soon after by Ro. Julian had subtly signaled to Dax and Kira to remain for a moment, so they both made a show of stacking padds until the others had left.
“What is it?” Kira asked when the doors had closed behind Ro.
“I just wanted to note,” Bashir said, “that the commander didn’t seem terribly shocked to learn that there is a secret covert operations group within Starfleet.”
“Ro didn’t seem surprised, either,” Ezri said. “What’s your point?”
“I think Ro expects every society to have a secret covert operations group,” Kira added. “Odo felt the same way. What is your point, Julian?”
“I’m not sure that I have one. But Vaughn’s service record isn’t exactly full of details, is it? I checked, Nerys. For someone who’s been in Starfleet as long as he has, you’d think it would contain more than the few meaningless details I found. And he didn’t contribute much to our discussion just now.”
Kira chose her words very carefully. “Julian, I may not be Starfleet, but Commander Vaughn has proven himself to me, and to this station. If you want to bring his trustworthiness into question—”
“No,” Bashir said, as if realizing he’d crossed a line. “I’m sorry. I guess this Section 31 business is making me suspicious of everything. You’re right, Colonel. I won’t bring it up again.” Bashir looked at Ezri. “See you later?”
Ezri nodded. As soon as Julian left the room, Kira said, “I don’t like what I just heard.”
“Neither do I,” Dax said, still watching the door. “But he has a point.”
“In what way?”
“Vaughn plays it close to the vest,” Ezri said. “He always did. Even when Curzon met him decades ago he was like that. I don’t mean he can’t be trusted. I think he’s basically a good man. Plus, the opinions of Starfleet Command and captains like Jean-Luc Picard count for something, and they obviously have complete confidence in him. But given the strain Julian’s under right now, questioning a lack of information—which is what Vaughn represents to him—isn’t unreasonable, or unexpected.”
Kira could understand that, and wondered if she would eventually have to address the issue with her enigmatic executive officer. First things first, however. “Can Julian do this?” she asked Dax.
“No question,” Ezri said. “But he’ll need backup he can count on. I think Ro and Taran’atar are a good start, but I want to go, too.”
Kira sat down and leaned back, studying Dax carefully. “Do you remember the mission to Soukara?” she said finally.
“Yes, of course,” Ezri replied without hesitation. “Jadzia almost died. Worf had to choose between saving her life or meeting with Lasaran. He chose to save me.”
“And do you remember what happened next?”
“Benjamin forbade us from ever going on a mission together again.”
“And the lesson I should draw from that is…what?”
“Colonel,” Dax said, straining to sound reasonable, “these are entirely different circumstances.”
“Really? Different how? How is this different from the mission to Soukara?”
“Look at it this way. You and Odo together went to the aid of Damar’s resistance group while the two of you were in a relationship.”
“Odo and I are not you and Worf,” Kira said, and as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew she was trapped.
“Exactly my point,” Ezri agreed. “Odo and Kira are not Jadzia and Worf. Well, Ezri and Julian aren’t Jadzia and Worf, either.”
Kira sighed. “What if you’re wrong, Ezri?”
“I’m not wrong and you know it. We’ll do this the right way if for no other reason than to prove to you that we can.”
“Have you talked to Julian about this? I got the impression he expects you to see him off, not join him.”
“Of course we’ve talked about it. And of course he wants me to come along. He feels exactly the same way I do about this.”
“I don’t want you to come along,” Bashir said.
Ezri, sitting on Bashir’s bed, shivered as she watched him repack his travel bag. The station was getting colder and Julian’s quarters, which were always a couple of degrees cooler than she liked, were close to unbearable. “You’re not being reasonable,” she said, then pulled the afghan off the foot of his bed and wrapped it around her shoulders.
Bashir walked over and pulled the afghan more tightly around her. “How am I being unreasonable? I just don’t want you to be hurt…or worse.”
Ezri shrugged his hand away. She wasn’t impressed. “Doesn’t work,” she said. “I don’t want you to be hurt or killed either, but I’m not insisting you stay. I know you have to go. It’s your duty.”
“Yes,” Bashir agreed emphatically. “It is…”
“And it’s mine, too,” she said, not letting him finish his thought. “Or do you think you’re the only Starfleet officer with a stake in this?”
Bashir sighed, hating the way this was going. “Of course not. But I probably know more about how Locken is likely to react than almost anyone…”
“Except for me,” Ezri said matter-of-factly.
“You?”
“Me,” she repeated. “Julian, you might be an enhanced person, but I, a trained counselor and a lifelong observer of humanoid behavior, live with an enhanced person. Don’t you think that counts for something?”
Bashir regarded her without comment for several seconds, obviously looking for a flaw in her argument, and finding none. Finally, he lowered his head in resignation. “Lieutenant, I submit to the overwhelming force of your logic. Obviously, one of the previous hosts spent a great deal of time with Vulcans. You’d better go pack.”
“Already did once today,” Ezri said, trying not to smile too broadly. “Not everyone is as fussy as you are.”
Closing his bag and lifting it from the bed, Bashir pointed at the door. “We’ll see what you say about that when we get to Sindorin.”
Chapter Five
Ordinarily, Kira wouldn’t violate another’s privacy by entering a holosuite while a program was running, but she was fairly confident she wasn’t walking in on anything the Jem’Hadar would consider embarrassing. As far as she knew, Jem’Hadar couldn’t be embarrassed. And even if they could be, it wouldn’t have stopped her in this case. Time was a factor.
She entered and found herself looking down a dozen meters into a bowl-shaped pit with a floor of loose soil and walls of broken rock. Below her, Taran’atar was fighting a nightmare.
The creature appeared to be insectile—five meters tall, eight long limbs, each one ending in a two-pronged horny claw. The claws at the end of the foremost limbs were more flexible than the others and were holding heavy clubs that looked like they might have been rubbed or shaped somehow for easier grasping.
The insect aimed one of the clubs at Taran’atar’s head, but the Jem’Hadar sidestepped a half-meter to the left. The club head was momentarily buried in the sandy soil, and Taran’atar leapt up onto the creature’s back, then took a swipe with his axlike kar’takin at the soft, flexible part where two sections of the insect’s chitinous armor overlapped. The blade bit deep and the joint spurted a thick, purplish ichor. The insect made a strange metallic noise, then tore the club out of the soil. Taran’atar backflipped off the creature and landed softly, knees bent, then tumbled to the side as the club descended again.
The creature, which apparently had poor peripheral vision, didn’t see where its opponent had gone and issued another piercing cry as the kar’takin landed again. It reared, rolling itself up onto only four legs, waving the claws and clubs of its forelimbs but finding no target.
Taran’atar stepped lightly onto the insect’s back again, took three quick strides up its dorsal ridge, and landed a heavy blow on the crown of its head. The carapace didn’t crack, but what passed for the creature’s central nervous system must have been under that part of the shell, because the blow staggered it, its sapling-thick legs buckling beneath it. Taran’atar used the creature’s forward momentum to tumble over the top of its head, curled into a shoulder roll, and came to a halt about three meters from where the insect now lay dazed.
Taran’atar rolled nimbly to his feet, then paused, watching the swaying giant. Kira expected him to approach the insect and end the battle, but the Jem’Hadar was obviously waiting for something. Kira wondered distantly if the Jem’Hadar was simply enjoying having the creature at his mercy and wished to prolong the moment as much as possible.
Then, suddenly, the insect’s whole body spasmed and it curled into a tight ball, all eight limbs wrapping around its lower abdomen. The edges of the armor plates on its back lifted and stubby, thorny spikes slid out from underneath. Muscles contracted, the creature shuddered again and the spikes shot out in every direction, some embedding themselves in the loose soil, others shattering against the walls. Kira flinched in spite of herself, startled by the simulated carnage.
Taran’atar leapt lightly into the air, correctly judging the trajectory of the half-dozen projectiles that were heading in his direction. He slipped between the two highest-flying spikes, clearing the other four by half a meter, then dropped to the ground directly in front of the bug’s great head. He raised his blade high and Kira braced herself for the sight of split carapace or splattered brain matter, but instead heard only “End program.”
A momentary shimmer, and Kira suddenly found herself on the same level as Taran’atar, in the otherwise empty holosuite. Taran’atar was leaning on his weapon, gazing at her fixedly, but without concern. “Good day, Colonel,” he said, his loose black coverall as clean as it must have been when he started the program. At Kira’s request, he had shortly after his arrival on the station stopped wearing his gray Dominion uniform in favor of the less provocative garment.
“Good day, Taran’atar. I hope my presence didn’t interrupt your exercise.”
“No,” he said. Kira had spoken to the Jem’Hadar a number of times since he had come onto the station, but she still had not grown accustomed to his voice. She always expected something on the order of a Worf-like growl, but his tone was higher, richer, more melodious. She wondered if Jem’Hadar ever sang, and, if they did, could they carry a tune?
“But you shut off the program before…” She faltered. “You weren’t finished.”
Taran’atar studied the edge of his blade, then looked up at her. “The battle was won. I would have killed it with the next blow.”
“Well, yes, that was obvious,” Kira said. “What was that, anyway?”
“On the world where they live, the natives called it something which, translated, means approximately ‘Comes-in-the-night-kills-many.’ They lived in burrows and would tunnel up underneath their prey, pull them down, and then consume them.”
Something suddenly dawned on Kira. Taran’atar had come aboard the station with few possessions, and holoprograms weren’t among them. “Did you create that simulation yourself? From memory?”
Taran’atar inclined his head slightly. “I knew the parameters, and was able to encode them onto a data rod preformatted for the holosuite.”
A Jem’Hadar of no small talents, Kira mused. Or were they all as capable as this one, and she’d just never known it? One thing was certain, she was never going to underestimate Taran’atar again.
“That one was using weapons. They must possess some sort of rudimentary intelligence.”
Taran’atar tilted his head in the Jem’Hadar equivalent of a shrug. “Perhaps. You may be right. It was not my concern. My orders were to kill them, not to study them. They were decimating the population of a settlement the Founders had assigned to grow food crops.”
“And you were guarding them, the settlement? That’s what you did before you came here?”
“Not before I came here. This was many years ago, long before I became an Elder. The survey team found them before the settlement was established. My unit was assigned to eradicate them.”
“Are you telling me you wiped out a native species to establish the farming community?”
Taran’atar nodded. “It is the practice among the Founders to assign peoples who have proven themselves to be superior tillers of the soil to worlds where they may best serve the needs of the Dominion. This group—I do not know what you would call them—was transplanted from another world, one that the Founders had conquered many years earlier. They were a small species, poorly equipped for combat, so my unit was called in to secure the settlement.”
“Secure the settlement?” Kira asked. “You mean commit genocide.”
Taran’atar took note of her change in demeanor, but didn’t hesitate. “Our goal was to completely eradicate the population, yes. This disturbs you?”
“It would disturb any of my people. We ou
rselves were once enslaved by invaders, too.”
“We did not enslave these creatures…”
“No, you eradicated them,” Kira said. “Can you tell me which is worse?”
Taran’atar asked, “Is it your wish to debate this issue, Colonel?”
Kira felt her jaw tighten. “No, I’m not interested in a debate. That wasn’t my intention. In fact, I came here to make a request.”
The Jem’Hadar seemed uncertain. “A request?”
“There’s something I’d like you to do, but I don’t want you to feel compelled to do it. You have to decide whether you wish to or not. It is our custom to ask our guests for assistance, and to let them make the choice.”
Taran’atar clearly wasn’t just uncertain now, but agitated and impatient. “I am not your guest, Colonel. I am a Jem’Hadar, with a mission to obey, observe, and learn. The Founder…”
“Odo,” Kira said.
Taran’atar accepted the correction, but his agitation only increased. “Odo gave me this task, to serve your will as I would serve his. I still do not understand completely how this can be done, but I took an oath and so I will obey you. But he never said anything about making choices.” And with this, Taran’atar slammed the head of his kar’takin into the holosuite floor. The computer that controlled the room’s simulated environments sensed the imminent impact and attempted to generate a cushioning forcefield, but was too slow to block the full force of the blow. The blade bit into the deck and a shower of sparks erupted from a pierced EPS conduit. Safeties kicked in and the sparks stopped.
Kira was too surprised to say anything for several seconds and before she could protest Taran’atar’s behavior, the room’s comm came on and she heard Quark say in diffident tones, “Ah, hey. Hello in there? Maybe you could take it a little easy on my holosuite? No offense, but since Rom stabbed me in the back and took off for Ferenginar, there isn’t anyone on the station who knows how to fix the frinx ing thing. Okay, Mr. Jem’Hadar? Hello?”
“Everything’s fine, Quark,” Kira said. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll have Nog come down and look at it later.”