by Olivia Woods
But such a fundamental change was contrary to the design, the very concept underlying the Jem’Hadar’s creation. They had been engineered to be the perfect soldiers, their purpose pure, their loyalty unassailable. What sort of future, then, had Odo imagined was really possible for them?
Perhaps it didn’t matter. For if the Founders were not gods, then the perfection of the Jem’Hadar was a lie. If the Founders were not gods, then Taran’atar’s mission to Deep Space 9 had been a farce from the beginning. If the Founders were not gods, then perhaps Odo was wrong, and the Jem’Hadar really had no future, only an unending gray present.
A future that was defined solely by the function for which they were created.
To obey. To fight. To die.
And with that acceptance, Taran’atar paradoxically made a choice. He closed his eyes again, exerted his will, and bore down on L’Haan, driving her from his mind and forcing himself into a state of full and complete wakefulness.
He opened his eyes in the near darkness of the Intendant’s quarters, where he still leaned against the bulkhead in the spot where he’d fallen into sleep. He stood at the edge of the panoramic viewport, past which the stars still streaked as they had ever since the Negh’Var had departed from Raknal Station. L’Haan stood before him, her fingers still touching the sides of his face. Her eyes suddenly widened with the understanding of what he had done, but too late.
In a blur of motion, Taran’atar slapped her hands away from his face. He spun her around and pulled her close, clamping one hand over the Vulcan’s mouth, and the other against the back of her head.
“I was never meant to be free,” he whispered into her ear, just before he snapped her neck.
Then he flung the body away from him and went back to his nightmares.
10
TWO DAYS AGO
“That thing should be put to death.”
“Now, Kurn, be reasonable,” Iliana purred from the guest chair in the general’s office.
“I want that creature off my ship,” Kurn demanded. “It introduces an element of…uncertainty that I will not tolerate.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to learn to tolerate it, General. Taran’atar isn’t going anywhere.”
The Klingon bared his teeth. “You brought it aboard without my knowledge or consent! Now it has killed your own handmaiden!”
“You heard what he told us,” Iliana said. “L’Haan planned to betray me. Taran’atar may have responded to that threat impulsively, but it was the correct response. As long as you and your men remain loyal to me, you have nothing to fear from him.”
“Do not insult my honor, Intendant,” the general warned her. “My men and I fear nothing, and our loyalty—”
“Your loyalty was negotiated, General,” Iliana reminded him. “So let us forgo the posturing, shall we? This is about your having come to appreciate just how dangerous Taran’atar can be when it becomes necessary. That’s good, because now you know you can believe what I’ve told you about what we have to gain by finding his people.”
“I now also know what we have to risk,” Kurn said. “I’ve looked into the creature’s eyes, Intendant. That thing is soulless. And when it chooses not to obey you anymore, it will not differentiate friend from foe.”
“He can’t make that choice, Kurn. He’s bent to my will. I control him, and when we find the others of his kind, I’ll control them just as completely. Imagine it…an army of creatures like Taran’atar, led by you as you go into battle against Martok and Dukat, to claim the glory that has wrongfully been withheld from you. And when the dust settles, there’ll be no more Alliance—just a single, all-encompassing, invincible imperium…led by us.”
Kurn’s eyes glittered with the possibilities, though they were still tinged with doubt. “I will not lie to you, Intendant. I crave what you offer. But there is much I still do not understand about our undertaking. You tell me that we seek a stable wormhole within the Bajoran system that will take us to the region of the galaxy where the creature comes from. Why then, should we even bother with the rebels on Terok Nor?”
“Because there is far more to be achieved here than just the conquest of the Alliance. The wormhole will open the way not just to the other side of the galaxy, but also, when we’re ready, to the other universe. Retaking Terok Nor is merely the first step toward those ends. That’s why the dimensional static field your engineers are working on is so important, General, and why it has to be finished before we enter the B’hava’el system. I won’t risk interference by those meddlesome alternates before we’ve achieved our goals here.”
“Then you’ll be pleased to know that the tests on the static field have already been completed,” Kurn said. “It will be ready to deploy by the time we reach Bajor. But why do you fear invasion by the alternates now? They shrink from confrontation.”
“No, Kurn. They don’t. They’re coming. Or they’ll try to, at least.”
Kurn eyed her suspiciously. “How do you know this?”
“That doesn’t really matter, does it?” Iliana asked as she rose from the chair and stretched lasciviously. “What does matter, though, is that you’ve given me your trust up to now, and that it would only hurt you if I were to lose that trust when we have both gotten so close to achieving everything we want.”
Kurn strode toward her and stood very close, breathing in her scent. “You could reassure me,” he said with a suggestive leer.
“I could,” Iliana said, forcing a grin as she slinked away, just out of his reach. “But you ordered our fleet to maintain combat readiness from the moment we departed Raknal, and with good reason. Remember, our enemies could attack at any moment. What sort of message would it send to the crew of the Negh’Var if its commander were to lead them into battle without his pants on?”
“I’ll risk it,” Kurn said as moved toward her.
“Bridge to General Kurn.”
Kurn growled, halting as he answered the comm. “What do you want?”
“We’ve reached the rendezvous coordinates, sir. The Union vessel Aldara is ready to transfer its prisoner to us. Your presence is requested on the bridge.”
“On my way,” Kurn snapped, and Iliana breathed a discreet sigh of relief. Taran’atar was in her quarters, and she feared she might be forced to kill Kurn herself if his lust got the better of him.
The frustrated look on his face told her how narrowly he had avoided forcing the matter with her. “There are times, Intendant, when I believe you are a demon sent to madden me,” he said. “Where do you want me to put our…guest?”
“Visitor accommodations on deck six should be adequate,” Iliana said, making an effort to sound casual.
“The same level as your own suite,” Kurn observed. “Should I be jealous?”
She suddenly dropped all pretense of enjoying their banter and offered him an icy glare. “What you should do is remember your place, General.”
Kurn’s eyes narrowed slightly at the rebuke. “Then I trust you will not object if I post guards outside his quarters. Whatever you hope to learn from him, he is not to be trusted.”
Iliana waved her assent as if it was of no consequence, and the general left for the bridge. She watched him go, thinking that perhaps eliminating Kurn at some point—perhaps sooner rather than later—would be in her best interests, after all.
Ignoring the two scowling Klingon soldiers who flanked the doorway to the guest quarters on deck 6, Iliana barked her access code into the bulkhead-mounted panel. It wasn’t at all difficult to forget about the hulking armored sentinels that stood on either side of her; the moment she glimpsed the man on the other side of the sliding hatch, she instantly forgot about everything else.
He was sitting on the protruding hard shelf that passed for a bed aboard every Klingon warship she had ever seen, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the deck in apparent contemplation. He looked up at her as the door opened, his face leaner and harder than the one she remembered, but in a pleasing way. Hi
s shapeless orange prison fatigues failed to hide his lean and powerful physique, which clearly did not need to be accentuated by the flattering shape of Cardassian military armor.
Ataan appeared to have aged very well indeed.
“May I come in?” she asked quietly.
He frowned and nodded, clearly puzzled by the courtesy, as well as more than a little suspicious of it. As Iliana stepped inside, he rose to his feet in a show of either respect or defiance, or perhaps both.
Iliana let the door slide closed behind her before she spoke again. “Please sit down,” she told him.
He did as she asked, and she took the single chair with which the small cabin had been outfitted. The bareness of the room reminded Iliana of the stark cell she’d been assigned when she had first joined the Obsidian Order.
They sat in silence for a few moments. Iliana thought she knew what she would say when she went to see him, but now that the moment was finally upon her, she was finding it hard to recall how she wanted to begin.
Fortunately, Ataan spared her the trouble. “I understand I have you to thank for my release,” he said.
“That’s right,” Iliana said. Her throat was dry, and her words came out as a sandpaper whisper. She swallowed and tried again. “That’s right,” she repeated, more clearly this time. “The charges against you—conspiracy, murder, treason, all of them—have been summarily dropped.”
Frowning, he folded his arms across his chest. “May I ask why?”
“Does that really matter?”
Ataan’s eyes panned quickly across his surroundings before his gaze settled again on Iliana. “If I’m to understand my unusual new circumstances—being brought aboard this ship at the summons of Bajor’s Intendant—then yes,” he said, smiling crookedly. “It really does matter.”
“I see your point,” Iliana said. “Regent Martok has tasked me with investigating rumors of sedition on Bajor—”
“I don’t know anything about that,” Ataan said firmly.
“—and I was able to persuade the regent that you could be quite helpful in that regard,” she continued, speaking over his denial. “Any assistance you could provide would certainly help in my vindicating you.”
“I thought you said I had been exonerated.”
“I said that the charges had been dropped,” Iliana reminded him. “I never said that anyone really believes you’re innocent.”
“I see. But if that’s the case…then it seems likely that if I were able to offer you assistance, Intendant, it would simply confirm the suspicions surrounding me.”
“I can promise you it won’t. In fact, if you agree to help me, I give you my word that your status and reputation will be completely restored, and your record expunged.”
“I’m not sure I can believe that.”
“You underestimate me.”
Ataan studied her face. “Maybe I do. Certainly Corbin Entek did, not to mention Director Lang and the Supreme Legate of Cardassia.”
Iliana tipped her head in a gesture of mock modesty. “Word travels fast.”
“Of course. Intendant Kira of Bajor has a far-reaching reputation.”
Iliana chuckled. “Well, I hope I can convince you that not all of it is deserved.”
“Why?”
“Excuse me?”
“Why would you hope to convince me of anything? And why me, Intendant?”
“As I’ve tried to explain…I believe we can help each other. I want you to trust me.”
That seemed to catch Ataan off guard. “I’m beginning to believe what you said about your reputation. You’re not at all what I expected, Intendant.”
“Then I’d say we’ve already made a good beginning,” Iliana said. She rose to leave, realizing that she needed to avoid putting too much pressure on Ataan or moving too quickly.
Pausing near the door, she said, “I’ll leave you to think about my offer. In the meantime, I’ll arrange to have some decent food and more suitable clothing brought to you. We’ll be arriving in the B’hava’el system in two days’ time, but I hope we’ll be able to continue our conversation sooner than that.”
“I’ll consider it,” he told her, his expression guarded.
Iliana nodded and smiled at him. “Then, pleasant rest, Ataan.”
11
TODAY
“Bajor directly ahead,” the helm officer announced. “Preparing for reduction to sublight speed.”
Iliana was leaning over the back of Kurn’s command chair as the general settled into it and said, “Sound battle alert throughout the fleet.”
“All ships acknowledging,” reported his first officer.
“General,” said the officer manning tactical. “We’re detecting an unusual transmission being received by Terok Nor.”
“What type of transmission?” Kurn asked.
“It appears to be a communication, but…I cannot isolate the source.”
Iliana straightened her posture. “Can you put it on speakers?”
“I believe so. One moment…”
A squeal of white noise rose and crescendoed before a feminine voice pierced it, carrying across the bridge of the Negh’Var: “…also have a stake in seeing this woman stopped. She’s proved herself a threat on our side as well as yours. My people and I stand ready to assist you.”
Kurn had swiveled in his chair to face Iliana, a puzzled scowl twisting his snaggletoothed visage. “That sounded like you.”
Iliana’s mind was racing. Kira. Somehow she’s found a way to bridge the two universes, the way Shing-kur did.
The helm officer called out, “Dropping out of warp in three…two…one…”
Iliana thrust a commanding finger toward tactical. “Jam that transmission!”
“Status of the fleet?” Kurn asked his first officer.
“All ships reporting in. The fleet is continuing toward Bajor at full impulse.”
“Status of targets?”
“Terok Nor has raised shields and is powering up weapons. No sign of Defiant.”
“They could be cloaked,” Iliana pointed out.
“Instruct all ships to begin sensor sweeps of the B’hava’el system,” the general said, giving his orders in a clipped, martial cadence. “If that cursed vessel is anywhere nearby, I want it found!”
Iliana turned again to the man at tactical. “Are we blocking that signal?”
“We are, Intendant. Do you wish to deploy the scattering field?”
Iliana hesitated. “Not yet. Can you patch into the transmission?”
“Yes, Intendant.”
“Do it,” Iliana said. “Put it on the main viewer.”
“What are you doing?” Kurn asked.
Iliana smiled as she stepped around to stand alongside his chair, facing the screen. “I’m enjoying myself, General.”
The viewscreen took a few moments to resolve the image, but the end result proved to be well worth the wait. For the first time, Iliana and Kira faced one another in real time, the Starfleet captain’s brow already knotted with worry when the Negh’Var cut into the transmission, her expression now turning to shock as Iliana’s smile greeted her.
“Well, hello…Captain,” Iliana purred. “What an unexpected surprise. And how clever of you to have devised a way to communicate with Terok Nor. You’ve no idea how pleased I am to see you alive.”
“I sincerely doubt that,” Kira answered, her now-angry glare almost making Iliana laugh.
“Oh, believe me, I wasn’t at all happy to learn what Taran’atar had done to you. That was a task I’d reserved for myself. It’s actually reassuring to know that I get to come back for you…once I’m done here, of course.”
“You won’t succeed.”
“Of course I will,” Iliana said. “Haven’t you heard? I walk with the Prophets.” She held up her hand and showed Kira the Paghvaram wrapped around it, wiggling her fingers in a little wave before signaling the Negh’Var’s communications officer to cut the connection.
“Are you
finished?” Kurn asked.
Iliana ignored the general. “Deploy the scattering field,” she told the weapons officer.
“Done,” he said. “It’s expanding as we speak. It has already blanketed Terok Nor and should completely envelop the planet in the next few minutes.”
“Good,” Iliana said. “Begin scanning Bajor for anomalous quantum resonance signatures, and continue until further notice.”
“What is it you expect to find?” the general asked, raising a single thick eyebrow.
“If the scattering field operates the way you claim it does, nothing. But I’ve learned not to underestimate my counterpart. And not to put too much faith in experimental technology.”
Kurn’s voice took on a suspicious tone. “You told your counterpart you weren’t happy to learn what Taran’atar had done to her. What did you mean by that?”
Kosst! How could I have been so careless as to openly make the connection between Taran’atar and the other side, she thought. Especially after I led Kurn and his superiors to believe that I had found the Jem’Hadar in this universe!
“That’s a tale for another day, General,” Iliana said, tamping down her frustration at her own overeagerness. “But I trust you understand now why I expected interference from the other universe.”
That seemed to redirect Kurn’s line of thought. “It’s abundantly clear that the alternates are conspiring with the enemies of the Alliance,” he conceded as the blue-green crescent of Bajor slowly expanded on the viewscreen before him. “We will need to deal with that threat more directly before long.”
“And we will,” Iliana said. “But first things first.”
“Agreed,” said Kurn, who then turned to face his first officer. “Enemy status?”