Star Trek Terok Nor 01: Day of the Vipers Page 12

  “Sir,” Lonnic said, “what is he talking about?”

  “I’m talking about Golana,” said Kubus. “The bold colonial endeavor funded by your clan, far from home and far from stable.”

  Jas met her gaze. “There have been some serious issues at the colony, Tomo,” he explained. “The situation there has…deteriorated.”

  Lonnic’s mouth went dry. The Golana settlement was a legacy of Jas’s parents, established nearly two decades earlier by the clan’s mining pioneers. Even then, it had been a gamble. It was a verdant, Bajor-analogous planet, ideal for an outpost site; but it was distant from the homeworld, well outside the span of closer colonies like Prophet’s Landing and Valo II. After the initial rush to colonize, it had been difficult to induce new homesteaders to make the long voyage; but she never dreamed that there were problems out there. “What happened?”

  “The storm season last year was particularly harsh. A large percentage of the crops failed. There were deaths. Several of the families resident there broke their contracts and left. The population count is currently too low to maintain criticality.”

  She nodded, understanding the pattern. Without a crucial number of people to keep the colony running, the Golana settlement would eventually collapse and be abandoned. All the millions of litas invested in the planet by the Jas clan would be wasted.

  “I’ve been sending ships and supplies, trying to shore up the outpost.” Jas frowned. “It hasn’t gone well.”

  “That’s the reason for the closed-link communications? That’s why you went to Batal?”

  Jas eyed Kubus. “Yes. I was meeting with one of my scoutship captains. What they had to tell me was not encouraging.” The minister folded his arms and looked at the other man. “How did you learn of it?”

  Kubus shrugged. “I have my methods. Rest assured that First Minister Verin knows nothing of the matter. Frankly, if something does not occur within sight of Ashalla, he has little interest in it.”

  “What do you intend to do with this information?” Lonnic demanded.

  “Nothing,” said the minister. “But I bring it up now to illustrate a point. If we had faster, better starships, Golana would be brought closer and this issue would not even be a concern. But as it stands, you run the risk of wasting your clan’s fortune on a colony you cannot hope to support.”

  “And if I close the settlement down,” murmured Jas, “I give Verin another stick to beat me with.”

  Kubus nodded. “All the more reason to make an alliance with the Cardassians. A single one of their freighters would solve all your problems.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Lonnic heard the turn in Jas’s voice and fixed him with a hard stare. “We should not be so quick to trust the aliens,” she broke in. “Yes, in the short term we may be able to reap the benefits, but what do we open ourselves up for in the days that follow? Cardassian starships moving freely through our space? New economic pressures placed on our worlds by the Union’s demands? Suppose, after a while, they decide they want to take from us instead of trading? Once we open these gates, we won’t be able to close them again.”

  “The Cardassians would never have been allowed to enter our system if there was the slightest chance they were here on a military footing,” Kubus retorted. “Li, Jaro, and all the rest of the Militia, they would never permit it!” He grunted, shaking his head. “The fact is, the Cardassians simply don’t have the capacity to mount an invasion of Bajor! Why expend soldiers and matériel when they can follow a peaceful path? Cardassia Prime is too concerned with their own internal problems, and their naval forces are tied up in border skirmishes with that Talarian rabble.” He leaned forward. “Let’s not forget, they came to us. We have the home advantage here, Holza. If we let the prospect for a pact pass Bajor by, then perhaps your gloomy adjutant here will be proven right, and they will come back with battle cruisers instead of priests!”

  Jas was silent for a while, and Lonnic could see him weighing the arguments in his thoughts. “If we did advocate an agreement, Verin would never accept it. Even together, Kubus, you and I and what allies we have would not be enough to sway the Chamber of Ministers. Without another impetus to propel it, the First Minister will block any petition and we will be left looking foolish.”

  Kubus smiled. “Don’t worry about that. We’ll have all the support we need.”

  “What do you mean?” Lonnic asked.

  The other minister glanced at her. “The Prophets will provide.”

  The door hissed open and Kell crossed the threshold into the Kornaire’s primary laboratory module, casting around until he spotted the woman Ico at a console in the far corner of the room. He was glad to be back on his ship; the towering ceilings of the Bajoran castle had made him feel uncomfortable, and he had forced himself to resist the urge to look up over and over, as if his senses were warning him of something threatening overhead. Kell preferred the close, controlled spaces of his vessel, the decks and corridors he knew as well as the ridges on his own neck.

  He studied the faces of the civilian contingent as he passed them by. Only one or two of the half-dozen scientists dared to look him in the eye. Most of them hadn’t even left the lab decks to venture into other parts of the ship. He imagined they were simply marking time, waiting for the mission to be over so they could return to whatever interminable research projects they had been plucked from. He saw one of the younger men, the one called Pa’Dar. Kell had seen him in conversation with Dukat about the vessel. It would behoove me to place a closer watch on that one, he mused. Unlike the others, Pa’Dar had willingly taken meals in the mess hall and seemed interested in the running of the ship. Such behavior left Kell suspicious; there was no doubt in his mind that the secretive forces of the Obsidian Order had an operative on board the Kornaire—it was standard practice to put a spy on every line starship, so the rumors went—and with these scientists foisted upon him it was likely they had used the group to insert another. But then again, Pa’Dar is the obvious choice, he told himself. Too obvious for the Order; then again, it wouldn’t be beyond them to attempt a double-bluff…

  He shook the thought away. This trying mission was playing on his mind.

  “Gul,” said Ico. “Thank you for coming. I felt it would be simpler to display my findings here rather than on the bridge.”

  “I appreciate the need for containment of information,” he replied. “Show me.”

  Ico manipulated the arc of control tabs on the panel before her, and a large screen on the wall opened into a virtual display of the star system, each of the fourteen worlds in the ecliptic appearing with designations and data tags that streamed with information. A curved red line showed the course that the Kornaire had taken from the outer edge of the system in toward Bajor. Kell noted how the Bajorans had done their best to ensure that the Cardassian ship had traveled on a circuitous route that kept it as far from the other worlds as possible. If anything, such an action showed how little they knew about the capacity of Cardassian sensor technology. Coupled with long-range scans from other ships and the reports of covert probe drones, the Kornaire had a good spread of information about the Bajor system to draw upon.

  “Our initial estimates were incorrect,” said the woman.

  Kell eyed her. “In what way?”

  Ico didn’t look at him. “If anything, we were far too conservative in our approximations. There’s a reason these aliens have never ventured far from home, Gul. They have everything they need close by.” She altered the image to bring up a series of models of the planets, which scrolled past one by one, each bringing up ovals of text showing mineralogical determinations. “Stocks of feldomite, dilithium, iron, kelbonite…”

  “What about Bajor itself?” he insisted.

  She nodded and worked the console to show the planet that they now orbited. “We’ve used our time carefully. To ensure the aliens were not aware of the operation, I had my team adopt a rotating scan frequency modulation combined with a shift matrix in the Kor
naire’s sensor pallets—”

  “How your team did it concerns me less than what you learned.” Kell was getting impatient with the woman. Although he found the scientist an interesting diversion from the military officers he normally associated with, Ico had a tendency to display more self-interest than was seemly for a civilian.

  “Of course,” she replied, letting his interruption roll off her. The image of Bajor unfolded into a topographical map that changed color, areas glowing in different shades to highlight geological strata and mineral deposits. “I have conducted an intensive scan of the planet and the close orbital moons, confirming the intelligence provided by the Obsidian Order. Bajor is indeed a treasure-house, Gul Kell.” She pointed out areas on the map. “It is very rich in many key strategic ores and minerals. For example, several parts of the planet are dense with seams of raw uridium.” Ico folded her arms. “From what I can determine, it seems that the natives have made only a few cursory attempts to excavate the substance, and in a largely inefficient manner. A more intensive program of strip-mining would generate a much greater yield, perhaps with the construction of an orbital refinery platform to facilitate more effective extraction.”

  Kell grimaced. “Yes, I’m sure the Bajorans would be happy to allow us to level their hillsides in order to fulfill the needs of our shipyards.” He snorted.

  Ico gave him a neutral look. “It was my understanding that the purpose of this mission is to establish the value Bajor has to the Cardassian Union as a resource, not how we may make the locals happy.”

  “What was it that you said to me before?” Kell glared at her. “This is only one ship, Professor Ico. What would you have me do, wage war with it and plant the Galor pennant on a pile of corpses in the plaza of their capital city?”

  “I would never have the temerity to think I could provide military acumen to a decorated officer of the Second Order, Gul,” she replied smoothly. “I am a scientist, and it is my function to observe and calculate, and draw conclusions from what I witness. Perhaps, if the Central Command did not insist on provoking the Talarian Republic, there might be more vessels to prosecute the more important missions for the Union.”

  “Are you suggesting that this…this fact-finding jaunt has as much value as defending our borders against raiders?” Kell loomed over her, but the insufferable female remained aloof.

  “I know you feel slighted by the orders you were given,” she continued. “Be assured I would not say the same to anyone else.” Her smile was cool. “I imagine you would prefer to be out at the perimeter, engaged in combat.” She cocked her head. “Your daughter is there now, is that not right? Stationed with the punitive fleet at Torman?” Ico gave a theatrical sigh. “But neither of us have what we wish, Gul Kell. I wish to see Cardassia thrive, and to do that she needs resources, but for now the option to annex Bajor is beyond us.” Her voice hardened. “What I find disappointing, and what I do not doubt Central Command and the Detapa Council will also be dismayed by, is the paucity of response you generated from the Bajorans.”

  Kell’s temper was rising, but he kept it in check. “I did as I was ordered to. I offered them our technology and they were uninterested.” He made a curt gesture with his hand, hoping to make the woman flinch, but she remained impassive. “I dislike this interminable diplomatic rhetoric. Already I am sick of it.” He drew himself up. “I told Command when my orders were delivered to me, this mission is pointless. All we can do is gather what intelligence we can and then return to Cardassia.” He nodded at the screen. Kell wasn’t sure what irritated him the most: that the woman was so perceptive, or that on some level he agreed with her. “Let them send politicians next time,” he grated. “This is their arena, not ours.”

  Ico gave a short, sharp bark of laughter. “My dear gul! We are Cardassians. We are all of us political animals.”

  He turned his back on her and made to leave.

  Kell was halfway across the laboratory when Ico spoke again, her words deceptively light. “It’s a pity,” she began. “At a time like this, a man who returned to the homeworld with a bloodless victory for his people would be hailed as a hero.”

  He paused, turning. “I have no need for plaudits,” he said carefully, “I take my glory in serving Cardassia.”

  Ico approached, smiling that flat, predatory smile of hers. She saw straight through the lie in his words. What man wouldn’t want to be lauded? But what chance is there for triumph in this backwater, surrounded by pious, stolid aliens?

  “Just so,” she allowed. “And would it not serve Cardassia to bring her succor?”

  He frowned. “You’re talking in circles, and I have little tolerance for such things.”

  “Have you seen the datastreams from home, Danig?” Her voice became more intimate, as if she were confiding some personal secret. “There have been incidents, violence in the streets.”

  Kell hesitated. His attention had been solely on the ship and the mission. He had not had a moment to review the information feeds. The gul wondered where Ico had got access to that data herself.

  She continued. “The Oralians have been causing unrest. Apparently, after Hadlo joined the mission and left Cardassia, some of his followers chose to believe that he had in fact been executed by the state, that this endeavor was merely the cover for that deed.”

  Kell sneered. “They flatter themselves. If Hadlo was to be killed, he would have been gunned down in the street, not spirited away in some conspiracy.” He met the woman’s gaze. “What have they done?”

  “Some violent clashes have been reported between religious militants and the armed forces. There are rumors that agents in the employ of the Talarians may be assisting the militants. The Oralians have come in from their enclaves outside the cities and disrupted transport routes, started riots.”

  “Where?”

  “Senmir, Corvon, and Lakat.” She hesitated. “Your first officer is from Lakat, isn’t that right? Dalin Dukat? I wonder if he is aware of the situation.”

  The gul ignored the comment. “The Talarians? They’d never dare to make trouble on Cardassia. They know how hard we struck back after they violated our borders. They wouldn’t risk our retaliation.” He sniffed. “Obsidian Order propaganda, nothing more, designed to isolate those Oralian fools even further.”

  “As you wish,” she replied, without weight. “I only tell you what I have heard.”

  Kell’s eyes narrowed. “You’re very well informed, Rhan. Some might think too well informed for a mere scientist.”

  “I’m not responsible for what others think of me,” said the woman, turning back to her work. “As I told you before, my duty is to observe and theorize. We all serve Cardassia in our own ways.”

  When he was back in his quarters, the gul opened a protected link to his security chief. “Matrik,” he snapped, “the surveillance on the contingent from the science ministry, have you found anything of interest?”

  The junior officer shook his head warily. “Nothing substantial as yet, sir. One of them appears to be concealing a minor drug addiction, but nothing that may threaten the ship’s security. I have been directing extra attention to Kotan Pa’Dar. He’s been associating with the dalin quite a bit.”

  Kell frowned. “Forget Pa’Dar. Dukat’s smart enough not to socialize with spies. He’s not the one. Watch Ico. Put all your resources on her.”

  “Sir?” Matrik’s face showed confusion. “You believe she’s a shadow? Her files were—”

  “Just watch her,” Kell commanded, and stabbed the disconnect key.

  6

  As they walked the cloisters of the monastery at Kendra, Gar’s attention was drawn to the haunted look in the eyes of the alien cleric. Finally, the older Cardassian caught his gaze and gave him a rueful smile, his expression filled with sadness.

  “This place is magnificent, Prylar,” Hadlo told him.

  “You have truly been blessed by your Prophets.”

  “This is one of many places dedicated to our faith,”
said Gar. “Each province has a central monastery like this one, and several smaller temples and reclusia. Most of them are built on holy sites that date back to before our recorded history.”

  “Incredible,” breathed Bennek. The other priest was lost in the scope of the building, pausing to study every tiny detail of the decorations and opulent hangings inside each alcove.

  A question came quickly to Gar’s lips. “Do you have similar places of devotion on Cardassia?”

  A shadow passed over Bennek’s face, and Gar immediately regretted asking. Hadlo patted the younger man on the arm. “Our faith…Once it was celebrated in places such as this one, but now we have no temples of such merit. Time and the will of secular men have taken them from us. These days, the Way spreads from tents and shanty towns, in caverns and basements. It is no longer safe to praise Oralius in stone and mortar as well as in our flesh.”

  Gar didn’t know what to say, and he hesitated, searching for the right words. The kai, her pleasant face fixed in an expression of deep compassion, came to his support. “Sometimes we forget how fortunate we are to have such things,” Meressa said to Gar, Cotor, and Arin. Arin was a ranjen, a theologist and one of the resident priests at the monastery, and he had joined the group on their walking tour of the grounds. “We should thank our Cardassian brothers for reminding us of that.” She looked to Hadlo. “I hope you will not think ill of me to say it, but I have always felt that a place of worship is as sacred as one wishes it to be. It need not be built of stone and iron. It need not even be a place with walls and roof…” She tapped her chest. “The heart is the grandest temple of all.”

  “You are quite correct,” said Hadlo, some of the grimness leaving his face. “Would that all my kinsmen had such clarity of insight.” The alien glanced back at Gar. “Please, Prylar, do continue. I wish to know more.”