The glinn declined to guess what kinds of stains they were, considering the fact that this had once been the galley of a Klingon transport, and Klingons were known to eat their food freshly slaughtered.
Like The Heavenly Meadow, the Singing Waters was a hotel that catered to Zartani. Tain hoped to have better luck there than in the other places he had visited.
“I’m looking for someone,” he said.
The manager’s expression indicated that he didn’t often see Cardassians. But then, Tain wouldn’t have expected him to.
“Maybe you’ve seen him,” he added, handing over a palm-sized recorder with Demmix’s likeness on it.
The Zartani studied it for a moment. Then he returned the recorder. “He doesn’t look familiar.”
“You’re certain?” Tain asked.
“Quite certain,” the Zartani told him. “I have no reason to conceal anything from you.”
Tain nodded. “I’m glad to hear that.”
His eyes were drawn to the wall behind the Zartani. There was a shelf there supporting a holoprojector—not the latest kind, but one that seemed to work pretty well nonetheless.
It depicted the hotel manager along with three others. One was a female, obviously his mate. The other two were his offspring, both males.
They seemed to be enjoying each other’s company. It was a nice scene, a family scene.
Touching, thought Tain.
He held out the recorder again. “So you’re certain you haven’t seen this man?”
The Zartani nodded. “Yes.”
Tain pointed to the hologram. “Lovely family.”
The Zartani didn’t turn around to look at it. However, the furrow in his brow indicated that he knew what the Cardassian was referring to.
“Thank you,” he said a little shakily.
“You must be very attached to them,” Tain observed.
The Zartani swallowed hard and visibly. “Of course.”
“Do they live in Oblivion?” Tain asked.
He didn’t get an answer.
“I’ll bet they do,” said Tain. “A family man like you wouldn’t want to be separated from his wife and children.”
The furrow in the Zartani’s brow grew deeper.
“It would be a pity,” the Cardassian continued matter-of-factly, “if anything happened to them.”
The Zartani’s eyes widened. “Please,” he said, his voice taut with apprehension, “it’s as I told you—I don’t know anything about the man you’re looking for.”
Tain studied the fellow’s face for a moment. As far as he could tell, the Zartani was telling the truth.
“That’s unfortunate,” he said reasonably. “I guess I’ll have to look elsewhere.”
The manager appeared to relax a bit.
Tain eyed him a little longer. Then he left, his men following in his wake.
Time is running out, he told himself. He had to find Demmix soon, or risk losing him to the human.
And Tain wasn’t a very good loser.
Chapter Twelve
IT’S TIME, Ulelo thought.
Time to report to the bridge, as he did at least once a day, and take over the communications panel from Paxton or one of the other com officers. Time to do his work until he was sure that no one was looking.
And, once he felt sure he was unobserved, time for him to betray the captain and crew of the Stargazer.
At least, that was the way it had gone for the last several weeks, as Ulelo transmitted to his comrades whatever data he thought they might find useful.
“My stop,” said Emily Bender.
Ulelo halted in his tracks. He was so deep in thought, he had missed the small sign identifying the double set of doors as the entrance to the science section.
“Sorry,” he said.
“Man,” said Emily Bender, “you seem like you’re in another world today.”
“Do I?” asked Ulelo.
“Uh-huh.” Emily Bender smiled. “Try not to accidentally open a channel to Romulus, all right?”
He managed to return her smile. “Don’t worry.”
She looked into his eyes. “What’s on your mind, anyway?”
“Nothing, really,” said Ulelo. “I just didn’t sleep very well last night.”
It was a lie, of course. He had experienced a peaceful, uninterrupted sleep, as always.
But Emily Bender didn’t question the veracity of his answer. She just nodded.
“I should go,” said the com officer.
“Of course,” Emily Bender responded. “Thanks for walking me to work. And—”
“Yes?” he said.
“I’m glad we’re friends.”
He hadn’t expected her to say that. “Er…me, too.”
It was the truth. One of the few he had uttered since he joined the crew, in fact.
Emily Bender shrugged. “I know I originally wanted us to be more than that, but I’m happy with the way it worked out.” She paused. “I just wanted to say that.”
Ulelo nodded. “I’m happy, too.”
Then his friend did something really unexpected. She got up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek.
He didn’t know what to say. Fortunately, Emily Bender filled the silence after a moment.
“Get going,” she said. “I don’t want to make you late.” Then she went through the sliding doors and left him standing there.
Ulelo looked down the corridor to the turbolift that would take him up to the bridge. It was empty.
And even if it hadn’t been, his crewmates were unaware of his secret transmissions. They knew the com officer as a man they passed in the hallways or worked alongside or with whom they attended holographic concerts.
But no one knew him for what he really was.
So there was nothing to stop Ulelo from relieving Lieutenant Paxton on the bridge, sitting down at the communications station, and doing what he had intended to do.
Nothing except himself.
But at the moment, it seemed, that was enough.
Ulelo couldn’t bring himself to transmit another packet of strategically important information. He just didn’t have the stomach to go on betraying his friends.
Especially Emily Bender.
He tried to imagine the look on her face if he was caught and his activities exposed. He tried to imagine the shock, the disappointment.
What would Emily Bender say to him if he were apprehended? Ulelo couldn’t imagine. Or maybe he just didn’t want to.
She had opened her heart to him. She had given him things he didn’t think he had ever had before—things like friendship and camaraderie, and trust. He couldn’t repay her by continuing with his mission.
But what about the comrades to whom Ulelo had been transmitting—the ones who sent him here in the first place? Didn’t he owe them his allegiance as well?
It was a hard choice to make. He wished he could recall more, so he could know if he had made such a decision before, and what the outcome had been.
But he didn’t remember. His past was a haze, punctuated only occasionally with points of clarity.
In the absence of experience, Ulelo had to go with his feelings. He had to go with his heart. And his heart was telling him to think of Emily Bender.
With that in mind, he headed for the bridge. But this time, he wasn’t going to transmit any secrets. He was just going to man the communications panel.
And ignore the reason he was here.
As Enabran Tain led his men past an exotic pet shop, deep in the hold of an old Jadaral grain ship, he found himself pausing to examine the specimens in the shop’s display window.
A tiny Klingon targ, its jaws slavering, probably less than a week old but already as vicious as it would be as an adult. A Regulan eel bird, dark and rubbery-looking except for its curious, diamondlike eyes. A Kavarian tiger bat hanging upside down from a metal bar in its cage, its wildly striped wings wrapped about it like a second skin.
As he watched, the tiger bat
shuddered, seemingly caught in the throes of a disturbing dream. The Cardassian couldn’t help smiling to himself.
He had always been intrigued by the behavior of subsentient species. As a boy, he had gone out of his way to find and study them in the sparsely forested hills about his home.
Tain recalled an instance when he was not more than nine years old. One of his friends caught an idaja—a delicate, insectlike life form with long, graceful legs and wings that changed color in the sunlight.
His friend decided it would be fun for him to pluck the idaja’s wings off. Tain didn’t like the idea. He told his friend to hand the idaja over.
When his friend refused, Tain beat him bloody, nearly blinding him in one eye. By that time, the idaja had fallen from his friend’s hand onto a patch of bare, dry ground.
With the utmost care, Tain picked the creature up and examined it in the brassy sunlight. Its wings fluttered, changing from green to blue and then to yellow.
Remarkable, he had thought.
Then he caught one of the idaja’s wings between his thumb and his forefinger, and pulled just hard enough to tear it loose—exactly as his friend had intended to.
But even then, Tain had a sense that life’s privileges were the province of the strong. That was why he had never allowed himself to become weak.
Tapping on the display window with his forefinger, he angered the targ and made it leap repeatedly in his direction. He would have liked to stay and watch the beast’s frustration, but he had a Zartani to find.
Abruptly, the Cardassian felt the buzzing of his com device. Removing it from his tunic, he spoke into its triangular input grate. “Tain here.”
“This is Varitis, Glinn.”
Tain’s eyes narrowed. He had posted Varitis at one of the city’s docking ports. “I’m listening.”
“It appears that we’re not the only ones looking for the Zartani. Rumor has it that a couple of Cataxxans are looking for him too.”
“Cataxxans?” said Tain. “And you say there were a couple of them? As in two?”
“That’s correct, Glinn. One male and one female.”
Tain pressed his knuckle into his lips. His underlings had yet to find any sign of the two humans. But now, there were a couple of Cataxxans searching for Demmix.
Coincidence? He didn’t think so.
After all, how much would it take to make a human resemble a Cataxxan? Not much at all. A little hair removal, a little purple dye, and the transformation would be complete—at least to the casual observer.
“Stay alert for any further word on these Cataxxans,” Tain said. “And tell the others to stay alert as well.”
“Of course, Glinn,” said Varitis.
“Tain out.”
Slipping his com device back into his tunic, he made a mental note to give Varitis the position left vacant by Merant as soon as this mission was over.
And why not? Varitis had given the glinn an important second option. Before, he had no choice but to find Demmix. Now, if his instincts were correct, he could simply find Picard—and let him lead the way to Demmix.
Once more, he tapped on the window and watched the targ fly into a fury. Then he gestured to Beylen and Karrid, and led the way to yet another Zartani hotel.
* * *
Steej was back in his office, scrolling through a list of the last hour’s worth of field reports, when he received a call on his com device.
“Steej here,” he said.
“It’s Ardin. I’m at the Coastal Breezes—and we’ve got another report about Cardassians asking questions. Except this time, there was only one of them.”
“Was he asking about the Zartani?”
“According to the proprietor.”
Steej sat back in his chair. Obviously, this Demmix was a very important fellow to someone.
Had he been important to the Cardassian they found in the alley? And had that fact somehow contributed to the Cardassian’s bloody demise?
It certainly seemed likely.
“That’s not all,” said Ardin. “There are a couple of Cataxxans asking questions too now.”
Steej made a face. “Cataxxans?” They were the most upright species he knew—hardly the sort to be engaged in anything shady.
“I know, sir. It seems unusual. But apparently, they showed up at the Coastal Breezes after the Cardassian did.”
“And?” said Steej.
“And they asked questions about Demmix as well. But without any threat of violence.”
The Rythrian nodded to himself. An important fellow indeed.
“I’m dispatching additional personnel to your sector,” he told Ardin. “Have them go around to all the Zartani hotels in the area and warn the proprietors about these Cardassians—and the Cataxxans too, while you’re at it. Tell them we need to know immediately about any visits they get.”
“Yes, sir,” came the response. “Ardin out.”
Steej frowned as he put his com device away. Cataxxans, eh? Who else was going to turn up in the course of his investigation? Some Gorn? A few Vulcans, perhaps?
Whatever was going on, it was bigger than he had ever imagined. But then, he consoled himself, it would be that much more satisfying when he got to the bottom of it.
For him, at least. For those who had committed crimes in his jurisdiction, it would anything but satisfying.
Commander Wu had barely sat down to eat a quick plate of stir-fried vegetables when she heard someone call her name.
Looking up, she saw Pierzynski, a big, blond security officer, standing there with a tray full of something hot and steaming.
“Mind if I sit down?” he asked.
Wu indicated the chair opposite hers. “Please do.”
“Thanks,” said Pierzynski.
He put his food down and folded himself into the chair. Then he glanced at the second officer’s tray.
“Not very hungry?” he asked.
“Not especially,” she replied. “But then, I’ve never been a very big eater.”
The security officer nodded. “I’ve always been the opposite. After I’m done with this plate, I’ll probably go back and get another one. Fast metabolism, I guess.”
Wu smiled. “So it would seem.”
For all his vaunted appetite, Pierzynski didn’t seem especially interested in his food. “Have we heard anything from the captain?” he asked.
It seemed to be the question on everyone’s mind. But then, given Picard’s popularity, it would have been surprising if it had been otherwise.
Wu could only imagine the crew’s response if they knew the captain hadn’t reported in yet, many hours after his intended rendezvous.
She shook her head. “Not yet. But we believe that we’ll hear something soon.”
Pierzynski nodded. “Good.”
And he dug into his meal. But from Wu’s point of view, the security officer still looked like a man with something on his mind. It occurred to her that his request to sit with her might not have been an entirely casual one.
Finally, he sat back and wiped his mouth. Then, in what seemed like an intentionally offhand manner, he said, “Actually, there’s something I’d like to ask you about.”
Ah-hah, Wu thought. “And what would that be?”
Pierzynski took a deep breath, then said, “As you know, I’ve been a security officer for three years now—two on the Lantree and one on the Reliant.”
“Yes,” she said, “I’m aware of that.” She made a point of knowing her crew’s personnel files backward and forward.
Pierzynski went on. “When we left spacedock, I was Lieutenant Ang’s right-hand man. At least, that’s how it seemed to me.”
Wu saw where he was going. “However, the captain made Mister Joseph acting security chief when Lieutenant Ang left the ship.”
Pierzynski nodded. “I like Lieutenant Joseph. I think he’s doing a great job. And even if he weren’t, I wouldn’t try to stab him in the back or anything.”
Just then, the sec
ond officer saw Ensign Jiterica enter the mess hall. Passing the food slot, she found a table and sat down by herself.
Of course, the Nizhrak didn’t eat food. Lacking the organs typical of a humanoid digestive system, she couldn’t have consumed anything even if she had wanted to.
As Wu watched, the ensign started working on a personal display device, using the bulky fingers of her containment suit with a dexterity she couldn’t have exhibited when she first came aboard the Stargazer. No doubt, she was continuing some bit of work she had begun during her last shift in the science section.
Of course, seeing Jiterica with that device in hand was nothing new. She brought it to the mess hall every day, just as soon as she was relieved of her post.
The second officer smiled, knowing it was she who originally suggested that the ensign bring the device with her to the mess hall. Indeed, it was she who suggested that Jiterica come to the mess hall in the first place.
It had started out as a personal invitation—a way for Wu and Jiterica to get to know each other better, at least on the face of it. But really, it was an attempt to introduce the ensign to the social life of the crew.
It turned out to be a disaster—at least partly because of the design of the mess-hall chairs. Built for humanoids, they had prevented Jiterica from sitting comfortably and added to her self-consciousness instead of relieving it.
A huge disaster, Wu amended.
But she had still believed in the need for the ensign to be in the mess hall, so she placed a more containment-suit-friendly chair in the room. That helped.
And after Jiterica’s work on the rescue of the Belladonna, she had gotten more positive attention from her colleagues in the science section. That helped as well.
Pretty soon, the Nizhrak had become a fixture in the mess hall—usually one of several science-section personnel in the corner farthest from the replicator station.
Unfortunately, none of her colleagues from the science section seemed to be around at the moment. The only crewmen in the place were from the security and engineering sections, and Jiterica didn’t know them quite as well.
Which, Wu concluded, was why the ensign was sitting all by herself.
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