“Keep your lies consistent. Rule of Acquisition Number Sixty,” Corsi said, raising one blond eyebrow. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from the Ferengi ambassador.”
“You know the Rules?” Kira asked, stepping up beside her. The Bajoran had her arms crossed over her chest, and her chin-length red hair blended with the command-track red on the neck of her uniform.
“It’s a hobby,” Corsi said with a shrug. “The ambassador was about to tell me where he obtained this particular piece of technology that he sold to one of my staff.”
“That’s a padd,” Kira said, her voice flat. “Quark, what are you doing selling Federation technology?”
The Ferengi pointed one finger at them. “Ah, but that’s a specially-modified reader, Captain, enhanced to allow all of the nuances and sensory input from a very special book to be experienced. It’s extremely popular in the Gamma Quadrant. Aren’t the modifications the property of the person who designed them?”
Corsi tried to resist the urge to slug him. Instead, she held out her clenched fist and opened it over the bar, showing him the sensors and emitters Gomez had removed from the device. “You want to give the designer of this thing back his property, then? You’re telling me that you knew this thing had been modified; yet you sold it anyway? Did you bother to check to see what these little trinkets do? They’re specifically designed to kill people.” She took great pains to enunciate the last two words as though she were talking to a two-year-old. “We tested it. Whoever designed this thing doesn’t care what species you are. It adjusts itself for every known species. You’re playing right into the hands of whoever let this thing loose.”
She could have sworn a bead of sweat formed on the Ferengi’s oversized forehead. In the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a smile on Captain Kira’s features.
Ro had mentioned that there was a certain amount of history between the captain and the bartender-turned-ambassador, but from the look on Kira’s face, “history” didn’t seem to quite cover it. She was enjoying watching Quark squirm. “Where’d it come from, Quark?” Kira asked. “Don’t make me have to start an interstellar incident. You linked this thing to the station’s computers. Nog found nanites in the computer core. That makes it a danger to the station.”
Corsi could recognize a cue when she heard one. “A representative of the Ferengi government fencing weapons disguised as Federation technology? You’re in big trouble, Quark. Tell us who sold it to you, and maybe we’ll believe you didn’t know what you were doing when you resold it.”
The Ferengi’s eyes bounced back and forth between her and Kira. “I—I—I want to talk to Ro,” he said, furtively wringing his hands.
Corsi somehow managed not to roll her eyes. Of course he does.
Kira, however, took a step forward. In a tone that broached no question, she said, “Ro can’t help you on this one, Quark. Any investigation she does will be immediately suspect. She couldn’t possibly clear you without being accused of conspiracy. Two people have died because of what you sold. How many more, Quark?”
The Ferengi composed himself, staring her in the eyes. “Those people didn’t die from reading a book.”
“I’ve got a chief medical officer who would disagree with you on that,” Corsi said. “Where’d it come from?”
Quark’s eyes anxiously shot back and forth between Corsi and Kira.
“Quark…. Ambassador,” Corsi began, “tell us where it came from, and the report the Federation Council reads will tell them you didn’t know what you were doing when you sold it.” She wasn’t sure if she could even make such a deal, but if it got the Ferengi to cooperate, he never needed to know that. “You can tell me who it is, or we can go through your records and find out ourselves.”
After a long moment in which Corsi began to believe he might make them get a warrant, Quark said, “It was a Wadi. That trader that came through here a couple of weeks ago. Tellow. He’s the one that sold it to me.”
Corsi smiled. Well, confirms the paper trail. Ro’s suspicion that this one wasn’t forged was right.
“They went back through the wormhole,” Kira said. “We should have their flight plan on file.”
“Wouldn’t happen to have a DNA sample, would you?” Corsi asked.
“I’ll check with Dr. Bashir. If we have anything, it’s yours.”
Chapter
10
“We’ll have a high-security cell ready when you get back. Are you sure you don’t want the Defiant as backup, Captain?” Kira asked from the da Vinci’s main viewscreen. “You’re not exactly a fighting vessel, and the Defiant’s got far more Gamma Quadrant experience.”
David Gold leaned back in his chair. “Thanks, Captain, but if what the ambassador told us is true, that would be like taking a howitzer into Casablanca. If you could keep her on standby in case I’m wrong, though…”
Corsi could see the confusion in Captain Kira’s eyes. The Bajoran opened her mouth to ask, but seemed to think better of it. “You’ve got it, Captain. I’ll have Commander Vaughn take care of it.”
Gold gave her a curt nod. “Thanks. We’ll see you when we get back.”
“Course laid in, sir,” Songmin Wong said, turning from his seat at conn.
The viewscreen image changed to the slowly receding docking ring of Deep Space 9. “Wong,” Gold began, “take us in.”
The ship sailed around the station, and made a bank toward an empty area of space. While Corsi watched, the swirling maelstrom of blue and white energy bursts that comprised the wormhole’s mouth flashed into existence, and the ship was dragged inside.
Corded strands of blue-white energy filled the viewscreen, slowly oscillating in time with the shaking the ship was experiencing. I don’t even want to think about a ride like this in Dad’s ship. The cargo would be liquefied by the time he got to the other side.
When the wormhole finally deposited them in the Gamma Quadrant, she allowed her hands to let go of the railing beside the tactical console. “How long before we reach the Kar-telos System?” she asked.
“Couple of days, Commander,” Wong replied.
Gold turned his chair toward Corsi. “Did the captain send us the Wadi DNA sample?”
Corsi nodded. “Lense is trying to see how it compares to the other trace she couldn’t identify.”
“Keep on it.”
Elizabeth Lense didn’t look happy. That could only have meant one thing.
“What did you find?” Corsi asked, fighting the urge to yawn. It had been twenty-eight hours since the discovery that enhanced sonic bullets had killed Caitano and Deverick, and Corsi hadn’t had a wink of sleep. It was as though her body’s clock had turned somersaults. When she was off duty, her brain wouldn’t shut down. It would keep trying to go over every little nuance of the evidence, flailing to see the answer to one question: Why? When Lense had contacted her in the security office, Corsi had been dangerously close to falling asleep at her desk.
“Well,” Lense began, pointing toward a display in her lab, “the Wadi DNA came up positive. It wasn’t the same person that gave the sample, but it was consistent. I’ve also managed to figure out what species the other DNA trace on Caitano’s padd might be from.”
Corsi closed her eyes, a well of dread forming in her stomach. “What?”
“Whoever did this masked themselves very well. I only got a partial trace, but there were chromosomes present consistent with Vorta DNA.”
That was a word Corsi had hoped never to hear again. “Vorta?”
Lense nodded. “I can’t tell you which Vorta it is, but there are a couple of specific nucleotide sequences that we’ve only found in their DNA.”
“Okay,” Corsi began, “there aren’t any Vorta in the Alpha Quadrant that we can’t account for. Since the file that the nanites were attached to is supposedly a Gamma Quadrant bestseller, then could it be from anywhere else?”
Lense shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Then where is the little Vor
ta hiding, and does he have any Jem’Hadar still loyal to him?” Corsi hit her combadge. “Computer, secure channel. Corsi to Captain Gold.”
After a few moments’ silence, presumably while he got to a private location to take the comm, Gold replied, “Yes, Commander?”
Corsi’s mind scrambled to try to think of a good way to put what she had to say. “Captain, we have a lead.”
“Good work, Corsi,” Gold replied. “Who?”
“Not quite, sir,” Lense said. “More like a ‘which species.’ I found masked traces of Vorta DNA on the padd.”
“Vorta?” Gold’s voice tightened. “I’ll inform Starfleet Command. If this is the first wave of a new Dominion attack—”
“Captain,” Lense said, “please make sure they’re aware that every species in the Federation is vulnerable. All this thing needs is a bodily orifice to allow the waves to enter. The Strata might be safe, but I’m not sure anyone else will be.”
Chapter
11
When they beamed down outside the seedy little bar that the Wadi trader reportedly had been headed to from Deep Space 9, Corsi immediately wanted a shower. The place looked as though it had been carved out of the asteroid, and now the asteroid was seriously considering reclamation. A thin layer of reddish-brown dust seemed to coat everything in the area, including her nostrils. If it hadn’t been for the aroma of dirt and grime, the mixture of sweat and sickly-sweet perfumes that assaulted her senses as she and Hawkins walked through the door might have sickened her.
She counted nine small tables scattered through the bar, but only two had patrons. At the table nearest her sat a large bipedal creature with an elongated snout, stubby claws in place of fingers, and tiny ears at the top of its black-furred head. It bore more of a resemblance to a two-meter-tall wombat than any other humanoid she’d ever seen. A bowl of something wriggling sat before it. Corsi wasn’t sure she wanted to know precisely what it was, but what little she saw as the creature scooped the contents into its mouth immediately sent her appetite packing.
In the back of the bar, behind two scantily clad red-haired Bajoran females, sat a heavyset male with long black hair pulled back from his face. A large, ornate pattern was either tattooed or painted—at that distance, she couldn’t quite tell—in dark blue on his forehead. The two Bajoran women were pawing his gold-accented blue tunic. From the descriptions Captain Kira had sent along with the flight plan, she figured this was Tellow.
Hawkins followed her into the bar, a look of distaste on his features. “Sure we’ve got the right place, boss?”
“Go home, Starfleeter,” the bartender—a tall, muscular humanoid with rust-red skin, a dark pewter-toned bodysuit that came up in a hood over his forehead, and metallic face paint on his cheeks—said. “Get back through the anomaly where you belong. You got no power here.”
Dosi, Corsi thought. Bad attitude toward the Federation, and no problem with forwarding a Dominion agenda. Think we’ve got the right place.
“Not until I talk to Tellow.”
The Dosi’s bright orange lip curled up in a sneer. “What do you want with Tellow?”
Before she could answer, the two Bajoran women came up and began pawing over Hawkins. One purred into his ear, while the other curled around him like a snake. The conflicted look on her deputy’s face said he couldn’t figure out whether to enjoy the attention, or shoo the women away.
Considering that he and Carol Abramowitz had been seeing each other since Teneb, Corsi immediately began wondering how much this might be worth on the blackmail market. That thought was short-lived as she realized the situation for what it was—a distraction. She immediately turned to the heavyset man who had been in the company of the two women. He was sliding his way out from behind the table and toward a back door. Why do they always run?
“Hawkins,” Corsi said, fighting the urge to laugh at the man’s pained expression, “keep an eye on your new friends, will you? I’m going to go have a little chat.”
She slipped easily between the tables, getting through the back door and into what appeared to be the empty—but just as grimy—kitchen a few seconds after the Wadi. A clattering sounded from her right as a tray full of metal plates fell to the floor.
“Don’t bother, Tellow!” she yelled. “I’ve got people covering the landing bays. You won’t get anywhere.”
A growl emanated from the other side of the kitchen. Finally, Tellow rose from his hiding place behind a pantry. On any other humanoid, the unpleasant twist to his lips would have been far more disquieting. “What do you want, Starfleet?” he asked, his deep, raspy voice nearly a snarl.
“You know, it doesn’t look good when you run.”
Corsi took a step closer to the Wadi. A flash of light near his wrist caught her attention. She quickly drew her phaser. “Drop the weapon.” When he did nothing more than stare at her, she made a show of adjusting a setting. “You can be put in the brig quietly, or I can shoot you and drag you there. Your choice.”
Tellow reached toward his wrist, pulling out a small blade. It fell to the floor with a clatter. “What do you want?”
The phaser didn’t waver. “All of it.”
The Wadi reached under his tunic, pulling out a small pistol.
Corsi raised an eyebrow questioningly. She really didn’t like the idea of patting the sweating behemoth down, but when Tellow didn’t reach for any other weapons, she didn’t see any other choice. “Hands up,” she said, gesturing with the phaser. The Wadi finally succumbed. When she was satisfied that he was, in fact, unarmed, she grabbed his gun from the floor. Securing his right arm behind his back, she led him out into the bar…
…where she was faced with a sight that sucked the wind right out of her sails. Hawkins had both of his Bajoran “assailants” sitting in chairs in one corner, his phaser warily trained on them. Damn. The blackmail potential on that was priceless.
Corsi leaned on Tellow’s arm, pushing him forward. “Now, why run like that? I just want to ask you a few questions. Running like that might make me think you had something to hide.”
Tellow’s dark head shook. “No. I don’t deal with Starfleeters.”
A thin smile spread across Corsi’s lips. She pushed the Wadi against the nearest wall, allowing him to turn around. When he could see her face, and his own pistol pointed directly at his chest, she put on her best predatory expression. “No, but you do deal with Ferengi.”
Something resembling a growl came from Tellow’s throat.
Unabated, she continued, “And that Ferengi, he deals with Starfleeters. One of the things he traded was a weapon—a weapon he says you sold to him, and a weapon we found traces of Wadi DNA on.”
“I don’t know anything about a weapon or a Ferengi.”
“Do you know anything about Betazoids?” she asked, a thin smile spreading on her features.
Tellow’s eyes widened. “Federation law—”
“That weapon you sold was directly responsible for the deaths of two of my crew,” she said. “Do you think I have any problems with stretching Federation law until you can read through it to get whoever’s responsible?”
“Commander,” Hawkins said, “are you sure about this? The captain—”
“I don’t care what the captain thinks!” she shot back. The look in her deputy’s eyes said he’d picked up on what she was doing. Good cop, bad cop, Hawkins. Good cop, bad cop. “We’re dealing with a threat to Federation security here. We do whatever it takes. If that requires getting our resident Betazoid to pull the name of the guy that created the device out of this worthless bum’s head, that’s what it takes.”
She hoped Hawkins wouldn’t blow it by mentioning that Rennan Konya was too low-level a telepath for such a thing, and he didn’t disappoint. He looked appropriately chastised as he quickly nodded. “Okay, boss. Sure you don’t want me to talk to him?”
It was tempting to let him loose, as the sharp briny smell coming from the Wadi was getting worse. When was the last time thi
s guy had a bath? Those two women must have had their senses of smell removed. Finally, she shook her head. “Now,” she began, “are we going to play nice, or do I get to shoot you?”
Tellow’s eyes bounced back and forth between Hawkins and Corsi for a few moments.
“Or,” she said, intentionally sounding as though she’d just gotten the idea, “my friend here could do something to your lovely ladies that might make them, shall we say, a little less profitable?”
When she glanced over at Hawkins, she was pleased to see something bordering on a menacing expression on his features.
“Nothing life threatening, of course,” she added. “Just enough to cut into your profit margin.”
The Wadi’s eyes narrowed, sizing her up. “You would not. Starfleeters—”
“Give it up,” she flatly said. “I have no qualms about killing you and getting the information out of your ship’s computer. Matter of fact, I’m beginning to like the idea. It would save me some time. I’ve got a job to do here, Tellow, and you’re only in my way. Now, let’s dump the formalities and get down to business.” Resisting the urge to find a vat of soap and douse the Wadi, she leaned in closer. “Are you going to tell me what I want to know?”
Chapter
12
“We’re looking for a Vorta named Luaran,” Corsi said as she walked into the conference room and slid into her usual chair. “She set up shop in the Dominion’s old subspace relay station at Callinon VII. Reportedly, the Dominion abandoned it after the retreat, and she’s taken over. It was described as ‘lightly secured’ in the reports. Something tells me that’s changed.”
Seated to her left, Fabian Stevens blanched. “Luaran?”
“Yes.”
Stevens leaned forward, turning his gaze to the man seated at the head of the table. “Captain, recommend calling in the Defiant to meet us there.”
Malefictorum Page 5