by Peter David
In front of her was the fifth thing of which she became aware. It was another marble column, this one curved in a crescent shape, with the inside of the curve facing Seska. Beyond that was a wide-open space that had several corridors feeding into it at odd angles, with hideous abstract art on all the walls. The walls were made of either a dark wood or plastiform of various colors, as was the molding along the floor and ceiling that was carved with bas-relief depictions of various Ardanan animals. Ironically, all those animals were extinct, having long since been wiped out by the Terran Empire during their brutal strip-mining of the planet.
Structurally, the setup was similar to that of the agony booths that the Terran Empire had favored. The Alliance had made use of that disciplinary tool as well. Created by a Denobulan physician centuries earlier, the agony booth was a place Seska herself had sent many a low-ranking fool who disobeyed.
Oddly, there were no emblems of the Alliance here, and the artwork that adorned the walls was Ardanan. Seska wondered why Supervisor B’Elanna kept the natives’ artwork when the natives themselves were long gone.
Again, Seska pulled futilely on the restraints. If they were standard Alliance-issue, she wouldn’t be able to destroy them without a disruptor set on high, and even then it would take hours.
And obviously, I don’t have anything on me, she thought bitterly.
She heard the footfalls of approaching people before she saw them. Two Terran males, as naked as Seska was, came around the corner and took up position on either side of a chair that Seska hadn’t noticed until now. One of the Terrans had sandy hair, pale skin, and blue eyes; the other had skin, hair, and eyes that were all much darker. Both were carrying bowls in front of them, though their contents were obscured by Seska’s position.
Then B’Elanna came around the corner.
Seska didn’t know B’Elanna personally, but the same contact who had given her the information on Ardana had provided the nonclassified portions of the woman’s dossier. Her face was hideous, combining the deformed forehead of a Klingon with unformed face of a Terran.
B’Elanna scowled as she walked in. “In retrospect, I should have had the doctors put your clothes back on, little glinn. Cardassians are ugly enough dressed.”
As the supervisor came into the chamber, a familiar face became visible behind her.
“You!” Seska couldn’t believe it.
Laughing, B’Elanna pointed to the Terran woman who now entered the room with a wary expression. “Ah, yes, I believe you two know each other. Glinn Seska, traitor to the Alliance, meet Kate Janeway, traitor to the rebellion.” She tilted her head. “Well, no, that’s not entirely fair. In order to betray the rebellion, she would have to have been a part of it. And she never was.”
Janeway stepped forward. “If you like, Intendant, I can shoot the traitor for you.” She spoke the words with a manic grin that Seska had never seen on the engineer.
Staring at Janeway, Seska said, “You were an Alliance operative the whole time?”
“Not exactly,” B’Elanna said as she walked closer to the chair. “Dear Katie has been one of my personal aides for years, going back to Cestus III.”
Nodding in understanding, Seska said, “That’s why she calls you Intendant.”
“Yes. True, I’m technically a supervisor now, but that will, I’m sure, be changing soon. You see, Katie was able to insinuate herself into the group that overthrew me on Cestus. She was unable to stop them, but she did play along and become part of that idiotic rebellion of yours. I’d been hoping she’d lead me to a method of stopping your foolishness in a way that would improve my own position.”
Seska snorted derisively. “You really think capturing one ship will do the trick?”
At that, B’Elanna touched something on the side of the column Seska was bound to. The facing part of the curved column suddenly lit up with bright lights, and Seska screamed even before she truly felt the pain, as if every cell in her body was being sliced into with a Klingon dagger.
Seconds later, the pain stopped, as did the lights.
B’Elanna said, “Continue, and you will experience more of this, little glinn. The Ardanans called this ‘the rays,’ unimaginatively enough. But it’s quite effective.” Leaning in to whisper in Seska’s ear, she added, “I don’t like insolence.”
Smiling sweetly, even as she tried to catch her breath, Seska said, “Then you…you captured the wrong Cardassian.”
That got the rays going again. This time, though the pain was as great, Seska forced herself not to scream. She’d taken a few trips to the agony booth herself in her time. After B’Elanna shut it off again, she sauntered to the chair between the two Terrans and sat down in it in as ostentatious a manner as possible. Seska wasn’t sure who she was performing for. Janeway didn’t seem to care, the two slaves were loyal to her by right of sale, and Seska sure didn’t give a damn.
“It isn’t your ship I care about, little glinn. Yes, capturing the Vulcan and those three Terrans—or, rather, two Terrans, since Katie had to kill that blonde—was useful, but they aren’t the true prize, nor is that rattletrap you call a ship. No, it’s the two aliens that interest me. One I already have, and now I’m told that she has a lover. He’s not as useful as she is, since his species apparently isn’t telepathic, but it’s possible that he can have some influence on her. That, in turn, helps me.”
“If you say so,” Seska said glumly. I should’ve followed my first instinct and spaced that little troll. Or found some way to stop Chakotay from taking him on board in the first place.
B’Elanna snapped a finger at the pale slave, who immediately reached into his bowl and pulled out a slice of jorata. He leaned over and placed the fruit into her mouth. “In any case,” she said with her mouth full, “you’re probably wondering why I went to all the trouble of healing your wounds and cleaning you up.”
“Not at all. My trial will make for much better entertainment if I’m clean and healthy. No one wants to see a dirty, broken woman on their viewers, even if she is Evek’s traitor.”
“Oh, no, not Evek’s traitor,” B’Elanna said with a grin. “Mine. Evek will be unable to participate in your trial by virtue of being space dust.” At that, she laughed.
Seska quickly divined B’Elanna’s meaning. The Galor-class debris they had detected in orbit of Ardana was all that remained of Bak’rikan.
Regarding the halfbreed, Seska said, “Congratulations, Supervisor—you’ve managed to accomplish the one goal we both had in common. Evek’s death is a loss to no one.”
Swallowing the fruit, B’Elanna chuckled. “That’s certainly true.” She sat up straight in her chair. “Now, though, I must alert Alliance Command that I have retrieved the traitor.”
“Not to mention several rebellion operatives,” Janeway added.
B’Elanna fixed Janeway with an odd expression that Seska couldn’t make out. “Not quite. You see, while having the traitor here is useful, so is having you inside the rebellion. You’re to return to the rebellion alone. Tell the others that you were the only one to escape alive.”
Seska made a tch noise. “They’ll never accept that.”
“Of course they will,” Janeway said contemptuously. “They believed it when Sisko just returned from nowhere after his ship was blown up, they’ll buy this.”
“Don’t be so sure of that,” Seska said, though she didn’t believe it. In truth, Janeway was right. The only Terrans with brains in the rebellion were O’Brien, Sisko’s ex-wife, and Tuvok. Tuvok was here, O’Brien was too focused on building that supership of his, and Jennifer Sisko’s intelligence was all padd-smarts, not common sense.
Janeway looked to the side, seemingly lost in thought as she worked her way through the problem. Seska was bitterly amused to see that Janeway’s thought process was like that of any engineer, a touch of mundanity that made her hate Janeway all the more.
“We can blast a hole in the flight deck bulkhead. I can tell them that the rest of the crew were blo
wn out into space, so this way you can still keep Chakotay, Tuvok, and Kim here for interrogation. The only body I’ll have is Hansen—she would’ve been with me in engineering. I’ll say she died when something exploded.”
“And they’ll believe that?” B’Elanna asked.
“Yes,” Janeway said emphatically.
B’Elanna seemed to consider this. She snapped her fingers again, and this time the dark-skinned Terran reached into his bowl of fruit—
—and pulled out a small disruptor.
Before Seska could complete the thought, That slave has a disruptor! Janeway had pulled out her own weapon and vaporized the Terran, who screamed in agony before he disintegrated. The screams echoed off the walls of the large room long after the vocal cords that formed them were gone.
Janeway, oddly, looked stricken. “My apologies, Intendant. I should have left him alive so you could question him.”
For her part, B’Elanna looked stunned. The pale slave had dropped his bowl and was now kneeling beside her. “You okay, mistress?”
Brushing the slave aside, she said, “I’m fine, Thomas.” She stood up. “Katie, never apologize for saving my life. You did very well.” She let out a long breath. “I will obviously have to have my security personnel replaced. This petaQ should never have been able to get in here armed—or with any intentions on my life.”
“Let me guess,” Seska said snidely, “all your security personnel are Klingons?” She barked a laugh. “It’s a wonder all your slaves aren’t high-ranking members of the rebellion by now, if that’s what you’re relying on.”
As expected, that comment earned Seska another harsh glare of the rays, though this one lasted much longer than the previous two.
Janeway once again unholstered her disruptor. “I can kill her for you, Intendant. I’ll make it slower than it was for that Terran.”
B’Elanna held up a hand. “No. She must be returned to Cardassia for a proper trial. Evek was one thing. He was a branch that had contracted a blight—all that needed to be done was cut it off from the rest of the tree. But treachery such as hers must be exposed and punished publicly. Just killing her outright serves nobody’s purpose.” She looked down at Seska, then, and smiled widely. “Not even her own. After all, if she’s dead, she can’t cling to some foolish hope of escape.”
Uncaring if it meant another bout with the rays, Seska panted. “If…if what just happened is any indication…escape should be…be easily accomplished by the end of the day.”
The halfbreed raised her arm as if to activate the rays again, but refrained. “No—she wishes me to make her appear tortured. That won’t do. A ship is en route from Elvok Nor to take her to Cardassia Prime.” She looked down at Seska with a sneer. “Your people aren’t good for much, but you do conduct the most entertaining trials.”
“Your approval means everything to…to me,” Seska said with a roll of her eyes.
Pleading, Janeway asked, “May I at least shatter her kneecap, Intendant? You can’t begin to understand how incredibly annoying this woman is.”
“I’m starting to get an idea,” B’Elanna muttered.
For the first time, Seska addressed Janeway. “If I was annoying, traitor, it’s…it’s because I was focused on the goal. I…I was trying to save Cardassia from…from creatures like her.” She indicated B’Elanna with a jerk of her head, still standing in front of her chair behind Seska. “The Terrans are the best chance of that—and of freeing your people.”
Janeway spoke contemptuously. “The Terran people aren’t worth saving. They were the galaxy’s butchers, and then they were entranced by a fool of a Vulcan. They should all die.”
No wonder she never got along with Tuvok, Seska thought. “So…so that’s it?” she said to B’Elanna. “You turn me over to Central Command, and…and your star rises. Then you position your new pet telepath to help you do what? Take over the Alliance?”
Sitting back in her chair, B’Elanna said with a shrug, “Something like that. But that’s not your concern. You’ll be long dead by then—the fate of all traitors to the Alliance.”
“Really? And what does blowing up a Galor-class ship get you?”
At that, B’Elanna laughed. “Nice try, little glinn, but Alliance Command has already praised me for my actions against Gul Evek, after he failed to report his capture of an unauthorized alien. You see, he had some strange idea that she was a telepath. Of course, my own people proved that assumption wrong, but Evek refused to believe it, and so he trained his weapons on Monor Base.” Holding up her arms, she asked, “What choice did I have?”
Well, at least I know what she’s planning, Seska thought dolefully, though while she stood naked and bound, the intelligence did her very little good—which B’Elanna knew.
Looking at Janeway, B’Elanna said, “Your plan sounds workable, Katie—but there’s only one problem: Hansen.”
Janeway frowned. “What about her?”
“You shot her in the chest. I realize that the rebellion is hardly made up of the finest minds of the galaxy, but I doubt any of them will have trouble recognizing a disruptor blast for what it is.”
Shrugging, Janeway said, “We can burn the body, make it look like a plasma fire or something.”
B’Elanna shook her head. “Too risky. I wouldn’t put it past one of them to examine the body, and the big hole in the chest cavity will be a tipoff. So you’ll have to pick one of the others to kill in a way that will track with your cover story.” She put a finger to her chin. “It means we lose one for interrogation, but I doubt any of them will say anything you don’t already know.”
That prompted a pulling back of Janeway’s lips, forming a rictus on her face that only the most generous of definitions would allow one to classify as a smile. “I know just the person.”
Kate Janeway approached the security office with a spring in her step. It was such a relief to be back among Klingons—and Cardassians, if one discounted that tralk Seska—after spending so much time with Terrans. Kate had never been comfortable with her own kind—she had learned her lessons well from Owen, the kindly old man who was the overseer of the slave population in the palace on Cestus III. Owen’s son had become the Intendant’s favorite plaything—in fact, he had been in B’Elanna’s throne room earlier, along with that traitor Kate had killed—but for whatever reason, Owen had taken a liking to Kate. Kate’s parents had talked of rebellion, and been killed for their troubles. Although he’d never said for sure, Kate had always thought that Owen had been the one to turn them in.
Owen had taught her history when she was growing up, after Kate’s parents were gone, and she had developed a loathing for the excesses of her own species. The Alliance had been built through cooperation and strength, bringing together the best of two empires. Terrans were too venal for that: they simply stomped through everything in their path. This planet was a perfect testament to their waste: strip-mining a fine world such as this and turning this amazing cloud city into a ghost town. Were it not for Gul Monor, it might have been lost.
No, Terrans had had their chance to rule the stars. Kate would die before she gave them another chance, which was why she had leapt at the chance to help B’Elanna put down the group on Cestus III. The one good thing that had come out of the dissident movement on Cestus—which had resulted in B’Elanna’s demotion—was that it had enabled Kate to infiltrate the rebellion.
She wished she could have talked B’Elanna into letting her stay here on Ardana rather than return to that nest of scum, but there was no arguing with the supervisor when she got an idea into her head. Which was a pity, as she’d gone to all the trouble of faking the problem with the injectors so Chakotay couldn’t take them into the Badlands, thus greatly increasing their chances of being captured. The fake had fooled Hansen—who was, Kate grudgingly admitted, a decent engineer, but also was a little too trusting of her betters, and so never checked the injectors for herself—but then Chakotay had to go and ignore her.
Of cours
e, if the Alliance had sent someone competent, instead of Evek, the plan might have worked.
That having failed, she did everything she could to convince Chuckles to rescue the alien girl. She didn’t give a good goddamn about telepaths or any of the rest of it, she just wanted to be extracted. If I had to sleep with that idiot one more time…
That onerous duty, at least, would be spared her. And her “mourning” over dear Chuckles would be all the excuse she’d need to rebuff the advances of anyone else in the rebellion. Thank God for that—sex with one of them was bad enough.
She turned a corner through one of Monor Base’s numerous archways and entered the security office. There, she was greeted by a familiar face. “Kohlar! You old toDSaH, what’re you doing here? Still riding on the supervisor’s ass?” While she still called B’Elanna Intendant to stay in her good graces, Kate knew full well what her current title was. But it served Kate’s own purpose to keep B’Elanna pleased, since as long as B’Elanna was happy, Kate was happy.
“Only the left cheek—you take up all the space on the right one,” the large Klingon said as he rose from his seat at the security console. They exchanged a warrior’s handshake, each grabbing the other’s forearm—a gesture common to both Terrans and Klingons as a way of determining that the person one greeted wasn’t hiding any weapons, at least according to folklore on both Earth and Qo’noS. All Kate knew was that few Klingons deemed any Terran worth the gesture, but Kohlar and she went a ways back to the good old days on Cestus III.
“So you followed the supervisor here?” she asked.
He nodded and retook his seat. “Of course. One of the things I like about the supervisor is her distaste for Cardassians.” He bared his teeth. “Cuts down on the foul odor. No, all one has to deal with under Supervisor B’Elanna’s command is an overabundance of Terrans. And you I can live with—you know your place, unlike our esteemed allies.” The last four words were said with supreme distaste.