Star Trek Terok Nor 01: Day of the Vipers Read online

  Pivoting the aircraft so that he could watch the enclave roll by, Darrah studied the sprawl of the oval patch of thermoconcrete with its hard-edged structures. It had none of the poetry of Bajoran architecture; all the Cardassian buildings were squat and functional, hugging the ground, glittering dully in the daylight. What open areas there were within the outer fences were covered with wide smartplastic pavilions and bubbletents. In his dealings with the Cardassians and the Oralians—he found himself thinking of them that way, as two separate entities—Darrah had often been inside the enclave, but he had always felt he didn’t know the full extent of it. The space had grown in five years from the original square of land a few hundred tessipates in size, but the aliens seemed careful not to encroach toward Korto. The farmers whose plainsland fields they had purchased were happy to sell up, gaining a lifetime’s worth of money in one transaction, doubtless moving to the coast, where the weather was always fine and they didn’t have to grub in the dirt for a living.

  The Korto Enclave was the first and it was the largest Cardassian holding on the planet; but it wasn’t the only one. The aliens had brought a new kind of prosperity with them, and several city-states were only too pleased to follow the model of Korto in order to have a taste of it. Qui’al, Kubus Oak’s district, had a sizable outpost; so did Tamulna, Hathon, Gallitep, and Karnoth, with the latest zone currently being laid down in Tozhat. Oralian pilgrim ships and Cardassian freighters were a common sight over Bajor, the reptilian shapes of the vessels moving in and out of the docking bays at the Cemba commerce station in high orbit. At the corner of his eye, Darrah saw a shape moving in the sky, dropping toward the port in Korto: a Cardassian cargo lighter. The aliens had been pressing the council of ministers for a while about Bajor’s customs regulations, citing the need to bring their ships straight down to the enclaves instead of passing through local port security. Darrah remained firm on that issue, as did a lot of the ministers in the capital; but he knew that nothing would prevent the aliens from using matter transporters to simply beam materials to the surface if they wished to. And what might they want to deliver that they don’t want us to see?

  He shook off the grim thought and angled the nose of the flyer toward the eastern horizon.

  Lonnic Tomo’s gaze drifted up to the observation galleries above the forum’s floor, and she was surprised to see there was hardly anyone up there. Certainly, she’d expected there to be correspondents from the media services, but instead there were only a few official faces, security personnel and the like. On her level, in the center of the triangular space that was the focus of the Chamber of Ministers, Kubus Oak was gesturing and talking in that hard-edged, gruff voice of his. Security had been tightened once again, and Lonnic wondered if he was disappointed his performance would not be broadcast planetwide. To say that Kubus enjoyed the glare of publicity was an understatement; he basked in it, and he knew how to use it to his advantage, unlike her employer, who sat quietly before her between Kalem Apren, the minister for Hedrikspool, and the young Militia officer Jaro Essa. Jas Holza kept his own counsel more and more these days. At times Lonnic felt they were just drifting, going where the winds of Bajor’s politicking took them.

  “Five years,” Kubus said, the glimmer of a smile on his lips.

  “Hardly the smallest blink of time when measured against the great legacy of our civilization’s history. And yet, in that small span, so much has happened to change the way that Bajor sees her place in the universe.” He spread his hands. “I’m not afraid to say that we were in danger of becoming insular. Inward-looking and stagnant. But the Union trade alliance we forged and the clergy’s historic enclave partnership brought new understanding to our planet.”

  Kubus walked toward the apex of the triangle, to the short bench where the First Minister and his adjutants sat. Lit from behind by a single thin window that let in Bajor’s daylight, Lale Usbor was the picture of studious, careful thought. He was nodding in all the right places, giving exactly the right impression at exactly the right time. How such an unremarkable man ever made it to that high office I’ll never know. But that was a lie; Lonnic did know. Lale became First Minister after Verin Kolek’s landslide defeat, and that had been on the back of the pro-expansionist, pro-openness, pro-Cardassian factions guided by Kubus, Jas, and the ministers swayed by the bright-eyed words of Kai Meressa.

  Lonnic’s eyes fell on the woman, seated across the forum with several other figures from the Vedek Assembly. Five years, and the time had not been kind to the kai. The vital and passionate priest that Lonnic remembered from the Korto Enclave’s dedication ceremony was a shadow of her former self, pale and drawn, in robes that seemed to swamp her. Once in a while, she would speak and there would be flashes of the old Meressa, but for the most part the kai allowed her adjutant Ranjen Arin to speak for the church. Lonnic looked away. Yerrin syndrome was an uncommon illness and it didn’t kill you all at once. Meressa had promised to continue to fulfill her role as kai for as long as she was able, and for that at least Lonnic was thankful. She couldn’t imagine someone like Arin taking her place. He was too easily swayed by the currents of popular opinion.

  “Can anyone deny that our stronger relationship with our Cardassian neighbors has not been beneficial?” Kubus was asking. “The aftermath of the hurricanes that struck Musilla Province last year would have claimed many more lives, if not for the advanced medical technology our first responders now possess. We have new sensing systems. Cardassian-designed warp cores give our starships greater reach.”

  A man with a shock of dark hair and a thick brow made a derisive noise in the back of his throat; it wasn’t loud, but in the clear air of the chamber it was enough for everyone in the room to hear it. Kubus paused and turned to face the other politician. “Minister Keeve Falor seems to have something to say,” he said, with an arch sniff.

  Keeve. Lonnic had heard the man speak several times and had been impressed by his directness and refusal to compromise. She might have been able to admit that she admired the minister a little, if not for the fact that he had become a persistent thorn in the side of the pro-alliance factions. Keeve embodied the character of many ordinary Bajorans, the son of a merchant who had married into a higher D’jarra and used his connections to get him elected to public office. He was a staunch nationalist, adamant that Bajor should be free to choose its own future unfettered by alien influences. Kubus liked to paint his opponent as a reactionary in the mold of former First Minister Verin, as a borderline xenophobe, but in reality Keeve was nothing so unsophisticated.

  “You say Bajor has benefited, Minister Kubus,” Keeve replied, “but perhaps it would be more honest to say that the city of Qui’al, the Kubus clan, and their allies have benefited the most. Those technologies of which you speak, yes, they did help our people at Musilla, but where were they during the mine collapse at Undalar? What good did swifter ships do for the colonists who were forced to abandon the Golana settlement?” Lonnic saw Jas stiffen at the last statement, but her employer said nothing. Keeve continued. “Perhaps these circumstances were not given greater priority because they were not interests of yours.”

  “Minister Keeve,” said Lale. “That is quite an inflammatory statement. I would be careful to cast such aspersions in this august forum. The issues behind the Undalar accident and the withdrawal from Golana are well documented, and they had nothing to do with Minister Kubus.”

  “That, sir,” Keeve said tightly, “is a matter of perspective.”

  For an instant, Lonnic’s attention was drawn away by someone moving in the gallery. She saw Darrah Mace enter and take a seat next to another man in a Militia uniform.

  “Commander Jekko,” Darrah said quietly, giving the other officer’s hand a firm shake. “Are you well?”

  “Inspector,” came the reply. “The Prophets are keeping me safe.” The other man had an oval face with a white stubble of beard and sparse hair. He didn’t take his eyes off the forum below. “How’s Karys and the cubs?”
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  “They’re good. Not so much cubs anymore, though. Bajin’s growing into a fine example of a moody teenager, and Nell spends my money almost as fast as my wife does.”

  “Ah, fatherhood,” said Jekko dryly.

  Darrah scanned the room and found Lonnic and Jas. “I miss anything?”

  Jekko shook his head. “Kubus Oak preening some. Nothing you haven’t seen before.” He paused. “You still got Proka Migdal on your team?” Darrah nodded. “Huh. You tell him, he gets tired of rubbing shoulders with Cardassians, I’ve got a post for him on my detail. You’re wasting him over there in Korto.”

  Darrah sniffed. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to pass that on. Or not.” He nodded at Keeve Falor, who was in the midst of a terse response to something Kubus had said. “Why do you want to entice my men over to you, anyhow? You getting bored with the close protection stuff? The way Keeve rubs people the wrong way, I’ll bet there’s no shortage of folks you have to keep him safe from.”

  “He’s a firebrand, that much is certain,” said Jekko. “But these days I’m doing more of the adjutant stuff, less of the bodyguard.” His fingers drummed on his right knee; the other man had taken a Nausicaan knife there during a stop-and-search when the two of them were only a few years out of the Militia academy. The injury had never really healed correctly. “And a good gun hand is always hard to find.”

  Darrah leaned closer. “Maybe you should come work for me. Benefits of rank and all, I’m sure I could call in some favors to get you an assignment—”

  Jekko snorted. “I don’t think so. Too many spoonheads in Korto for my liking. Don’t trust them. Never have.”

  Darrah’s lip twisted. “What, and you think I do? This is me you’re talking about, Darrah Mace. I’d arrest the Emissary himself if he looked shifty.”

  Jekko gave him a sideways look. “You’re a good lawman, Mace, you always have been. You got good instincts, better than me, even. It’s just the other stuff you’re a bit slack with.”

  Keeve was on his feet now, his voice pitched at a level that matched Kubus’s resonant tones. “Minister, perhaps you could consider for one moment addressing the negative implications of the alliance. Instead of glossing over them?”

  Kubus frowned. “I’m sure you would be more than happy to do that for me.”

  “The so-called bounty from Cardassia does not arrive on our shores out of the goodness of their alien hearts,” Keeve replied. “Minerals and precious metals from our star system are migrating across the border to the Cardassian Union at an increasing rate. Kelbonite and mizainite ore from our moons, uridium from Bajor herself, and I have been made aware that the Detapa Council has been petitioning for some time to have those quotas increased.”

  “It’s only fair that we pay for what we are given,” Kubus retorted. “We supply the Cardassians, and they supply us.”

  “And how long do we let that continue?” Keeve looked around, and Lonnic saw nods from his supporters. “Are we going to let these offworlders drain us dry? What happens when the ores they want become harder to locate? Will we let them turn tracts of our land into mine works?” He glared at Kubus. “Such things have already happened in Qui’al District, as I understand.”

  “What my clan does with our holdings is not a matter I wish to discuss,” said the other minister.

  Abruptly, the priest at Kai Meressa’s side rose. “If the chamber pleases, I would like to interject. The discussion here dwells too much on the material.” Ranjen Arin puffed out his chest. “You are ignoring the great spiritual interchange that has come from our friendship with the offworlders. The insights of the Oralian pilgrims have brought new light to our understanding of the Prophets and our faith.”

  Keeve shot Arin a measuring stare. “Forgive me, Ranjen, but I am only an ordinary man and not blessed with such great knowledge of the Prophets as you are. All I see are these so-called pilgrims bringing their faith and who knows what other things to our planet.” He placed his hands on the table before him. “If they are so open, sir, then why do they keep to those enclaves? How can they learn from us and we from them if they are isolated?”

  “The path to the Celestial Temple.” There was a moment of silence before everyone on the floor of the chamber realized the words were spoken by the kai. “It can only be opened by those with open hearts, open minds. The Prophets know this, and we must know it too.”

  Keeve’s expression hardened, and Lonnic wondered if he would be willing to speak against someone so venerated and respected as Kai Meressa. “Some of us do not see that path as clearly as you do,” he replied finally, returning to his seat.

  First Minister Lale cleared his throat, breaking the tension of the awkward moment. “We have drifted from the issue. I have called this meeting in order to allow debate on a new matter relating to the Bajoran-Cardassian agreement.” He nodded to Kubus. “Minister? If you will continue?”

  “Thank you,” said the politician smoothly. “Jagul Danig Kell of the Cardassian Union has brought forward an offer from his superiors to further cement the close association between our two species. We have all heard of the incidents in recent months relating to piracy and loss of our shipping. We are all aware that the aggressive and secretive Tzenkethi Coalition are expanding their sphere of influence into the Bajor Sector.” He looked at Jaro Essa. “And for all the hard work and selfless sacrifice of our brave men and women in the Militia Space Guard, we have only so many ships to go around. Not enough to protect every civilian vessel.”

  Jaro’s stony face never showed a flicker of expression, but Lonnic could see the stiffening of tendons in the officer’s neck; Kubus was, regrettably, quite correct.

  “To that end, the Second Order of the Cardassian Central Command has offered to place a squadron of its cruisers on station in Bajoran space.” A ripple of debate followed the statement, but Kubus kept speaking. “The ever-present threat of the Tzenkethi alone shows the merit in such a generous gesture.”

  “A squadron?” said Kalem Apren. “How many vessels is that, exactly?”

  “Standard Cardassian deployment would be six to eight starships, plus support vessels,” Jaro said flatly.

  Lonnic glanced at Jas. The minister remained silent, adding nothing to the debate, only watching.

  “Eight or more alien warships?” Keeve retorted. “In sight of Bajor, on a permanent footing? Is that what you are proposing?” He shook his head. “There are more than enough Cardassian vessels in our space as it is, acting as ‘escorts’ to their freighters.” The minister gestured to Jaro, and his tone turned acid. “I would suggest that instead of accepting this gracious offer, we instead divert matériel and energy from trade issues toward accelerating construction of defense vessels of our own!”

  Jaro nodded slowly. “I agree. A strong Bajor is an armed Bajor.”

  Keeve mirrored Jaro’s motion. “Would it not be better for Bajoran interests to be protected by Bajoran starships?”

  “What you suggest is already in motion, Minister Keeve,” said Lale mildly, seemingly unperturbed by the other man’s building irritation. “But it will take time to complete and deploy new wings of assault ships and corvettes.”

  “The Cardassian offer could serve as an interim measure,” Kubus broke in. “It would be a great benefit.”

  “For us?” Keeve retorted. “Or for them?”

  The ministers dispersed across the chamber’s atrium, and Lonnic walked with Jas, scanning the faces of the other men. Predictably, there had been no conclusion to the matter of the Cardassian offer; the issue would be debated again and again until one faction or another gained enough momentum to resolve it. She saw Darrah in conversation with the officer from the gallery, the two of them standing in the shadow of one of the tall statues that held up the roof of the domed chamber. Each figure represented a lawmaker or leader from the various Republics. She found herself wondering what opinions they might have had of the circumstances currently unfolding on their homeworld.

  Darrah nodded a
farewell to the other officer—a commander, she noticed—and crossed to them. Past the inspector’s shoulder, Lonnic saw Minister Keeve talking to the other man. “Mace,” she said quietly, “you know him?”

  “Jekko?” He nodded. “We served together. We came up through the academy as squadmates.”

  She was going to say more, but Jas pushed past her and approached Keeve. Lonnic saw something in her employer’s eyes that she couldn’t read.

  “Falor,” began the minister.

  The other man hesitated. “Holza.” His voice was cool and unwelcoming.

  Jas struggled to find the right words. “I want you to understand my position in this—”

  Keeve held up a hand to silence him. “I respect your clan and what you’ve done for your district, Holza, and because of that I’m willing to stand in the same room as you. But if you’re coming to me now in hopes that I’ll go back on what I said in there, you’re sadly mistaken.”

  “It isn’t that,” Jas replied, frowning.

  Keeve continued. “I know there are some ministers who will put on a show in the forum and then speak differently when they’re behind closed doors. I’m not one of them.” He leaned in. “Kubus and Lale are weakening Bajor, and if you’re not opposing them, you’re aiding them.” The minister turned to walk away.

  “We can have this alliance and still keep our independence,” insisted Jas.

  Keeve spoke again without looking back. “I’m certain you believe that.”

  Darrah felt compelled to break the moment of awkward silence and gestured with his hand. “Minister? Your flyer’s this way, if you’d follow me.”