Текст книги "What Judgments Come"
Автор книги: Dayton Ward
Соавторы: Kevin Dilmore
Жанр:
Научная фантастика
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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 21 страниц)
“Then we revise the plan,” Hetzlein said.
Reyes did not have to wait long for opportunity to present itself.
Following Hetzlein down a stretch of corridor and with Gianetti behind him and holding on to his right arm, Reyes watched as the lieutenant came to a T-intersection in the passageway. The doorway at the head of the junction was one he recognized as being the entrance to the maintenance area.
“Sure you want to be caught doing that?” he asked, adopting a slight mocking tone as Hetzlein began to press keys on the pad set into the wall next to the hatch. His question earned him a squeeze on his arm from Gianetti.
Hetzlein ignored him, instead focusing her attention on the keypad. She began pressing keys in what looked to be a random pattern, and Reyes heard her curse just under her breath as whatever she tried failed to open the door. “Something’s wrong,” she said after a moment. “The code’s not working.”
“Are you sure you entered it right?” Gianetti asked, moving to get a closer look at the pad. His movements brought him abreast of Reyes, who took prompt advantage of the other man’s momentary lapse and punched him in the side of the head. Gianetti grunted from the force of the strike, staggering forward and falling into Hetzlein.
“Son of a bitch!”
Ignoring Hetzlein’s cry of surprise, Reyes was already sprinting down the corridor, scrambling to put distance between him and his would-be captors. He turned a corner, but already he could hear the sound of boots running across the metal hull plating behind him. He looked over his shoulder in time to see Hetzlein and Gianetti rounding the corner and running after him. Gianetti held his civilian phaser in his hand, and he wasted no time firing. The blast screamed past Reyes’s head and slammed into the wall ahead of him, and Reyes brought himself to a halt, holding up his empty hands.
“Do that again,” Gianetti growled through gritted teeth as he closed the distance, pointing the phaser at Reyes’s face to emphasize his threat.
Reyes eyed the other man. “If you don’t do it, Ganz or his people will if they find us.”
“Move,” Hetzlein said, pulling Reyes by his arm and indicating for him to follow along. “We’re heading to the secondary extraction point.”
Before Reyes could say anything in reply, a new voice entered the conversation: T’Prynn’s.
“Mister Reyes,” the Vulcan said, her voice sounding small and distant due to a faint crackle of background static, “I am attempting to monitor the situation from my position, but I am still working to acquire information. Do not acknowledge this transmission, as these agents are unaware of our communications link.”
Reyes was about to say something regardless of the Vulcan’s instructions, but the words died in his throat as two Orion males emerged from around a corner at the far end of the passageway. They were less than twenty meters away, which made it easy for him to identify the squat, short-barreled disruptor pistol each of them carried. He flinched at the howl of energy in the narrow corridor and the almost electrical sensation playing across his exposed skin an instant before realizing that the source was the weapon in Gianetti’s hand. The security officer had fired his own phaser over Reyes’s shoulder while standing directly behind him, with the blue-white beam striking the lead Orion in the chest. No sooner was he falling than Hetzlein followed with her own phaser, dispatching the other Orion with ease. Within seconds, the two security officers had released their hold on Reyes and were kneeling next to the fallen guards, retrieving their weapons and, to Reyes at least, looking for anything else of possible value. From one point, Hetzlein pulled what he recognized as a magnetic key.
“Our cover’s blown,” Hetzlein said, dividing her attention between her immediate task and the corridor behind and ahead of them.
Gianetti said, “They know we’re here, and they know why we’re here, but they don’t know that you know anything about it. Just play dumb.”
Shrugging, Reyes replied, “Not much point to that. You know this ship has internal sensors, right? It’s not going to be hard for them to find us, even if they didn’t keep tabs on me every second of every day.” There was no turning back now, he realized; if this extraction failed and he ended up remaining on the Omari-Ekon, his death at Ganz’s hands was all but certain.
“It’s been factored in,” Hetzlein said. “Right now, the station’s chief engineer is testing the main deflector array after it experienced an unexplained malfunction last night. The effects of these tests are that there’s all sorts of feedback and interference being thrown off by the thing.”
“A malfunctioning deflector array,” Reyes repeated, for T’Prynn’s benefit. “Interesting. I suppose it’s affecting communications and maybe the sensors, at least for any non-Starfleet ship in close proximity.”
In his head, Reyes heard T’Prynn add, “That would seem to be correct, Mister Reyes.” As before, static accompanied her voice, though Reyes could still hear her without too much trouble. “This is also the cause of our communications disruption, but our sensors are able to overcome the interference. I can track your movements, but it appears Ganz and his people cannot. You should keep moving.”
“Why are we standing around, then?” Gianetti asked, a hint of anxiety in his voice. “Let’s get the hell out of here before they send everybody with a weapon after us.”
Reyes felt the larger man grab his arm again as the trio once more set off through the winding corridors, and he could not help shaking the anxiety he was feeling at the thought of moving away from the ship’s more populated areas. Recalling what he knew of the vessel’s internal configuration, he knew that this section comprised living quarters, storage, and maintenance access points. The omnipresent hum of the Omari-Ekon’s engines was even more noticeable here, reverberating off the bare metal deck plates and bulkheads. The doors on either side of the passageway were unadorned save for a single small plaque set into the metal at eye level and providing its compartment designation. Reyes had taken the time to learn how the designators were assigned, so he was able to discern that they were on a lower level and nearing the aft third of the ship.
Dark and isolated. Perfect for a nice, quiet execution.
Turning one more bend in the hallway, Hetzlein stopped before a reinforced hatch set into the bulkhead at the end of a short corridor spur. A hexagonal keypad with a magnetic reader was set into the wall next to the door, with three rows of four keys highlighted in blue and featuring characters in Orion text. Without hesitation, Hetzlein swiped the card she had taken from the Orion, and this time was rewarded with the sound of the oversized door’s lock disengaging.
“Where are we?” Reyes asked, for himself as well as T’Prynn.
As the hatch slid aside, Hetzlein replied, “Maintenance passage. This’ll take us to the utility compartment.”
“Maintenance passage,” Reyes said, hoping T’Prynn was still listening. “Sounds cozy.”
Something bright flashed in the corridor an instant before the crackle of energy assaulted Reyes’s ears, and he cringed as a disruptor bolt slammed into the wall just to the right of his head. He felt Gianetti’s meaty hand on his arm just before the man pulled him aside and pushed him to the deck inside the maintenance hatch. Rolling onto his side, Reyes caught his first look back up the passageway and saw three more Orions at the intersection, firing from cover. Hetzlein, in the open, aimed her own weapon and snapped off several shots, which only added to the cacophony filling the corridor. The Orions ducked back around the corner to avoid being hit, giving her the opportunity she needed to get out of the line of fire. She jumped through the hatchway, vaulting over Reyes.
“Let’s go,” she said, reaching down to pull Reyes to his feet.
Gianetti, bringing up the rear, back-stepped toward the door, aiming his phaser back up the corridor. Reyes saw movement at the intersection just before one of the Orions ducked into sight, taking aim and firing his disruptor. The blast caught Gianetti in the thigh and the man grunted in pain as he fell to one knee.
“Get off me!” Reyes said, but by then it was too late. Though he was able to get off a few more shots, the Orions were like feeding sharks at this point, all three of them taking aim at the wounded man and unleashing the full force of their weapons. Gianetti was struck by half a dozen blasts in rapid succession, each shot pushing him back until he slammed into the bulkhead behind him. He fell limp to the deck, coming to rest with his head facing Reyes, who saw the man’s lifeless eyes.
“Move!” Hetzlein said, taking aim at the keypad set inside the hatchway and shooting it with her phaser. This had the effect of forcing the hatch to close and preventing the Orions from chasing after them. Without another word, Hetzlein pushed Reyes down the narrow, darkened passageway, their boots clanging on the metal grating that served as deck plating in this part of the ship while covering all manner of conduits along with power and other optical cabling. Never having been in this area of the Omari-Ekon, Reyes had no points of reference for determining his present location as they navigated the passageway’s numerous turns, though Hetzlein seemed to know with utmost precision just where they were going. Perhaps seeing the questioning expression on Reyes’s face, she said, “Almost there.”
“Mister Reyes,” T’Prynn said. “Your current position appears to be in an area of the ship that is shielded from sensors. I am unable to isolate your exact location.”
“Wonderful,” Reyes replied, a response that drew a quizzical look from Hetzlein.
They reached another maintenance hatch, similar to the one they had accessed at the other end of the corridor, and once more Hetzlein entered a sequence of commands on the door’s keypad. The door slid aside, revealing what Reyes at first took to be some kind of storage compartment. Tables lined the bulkheads at this end of the room, accompanied by equipment lockers, packing crates, and an assortment of tools and other items strewn around the room. Hetzlein led the way into the room, inspecting its interior while sighting down the length of her right arm and the phaser she still held in her hand.
“You need to get out of here before you get us both killed!” Reyes snapped. This was getting ridiculous. So far as he could tell, Hetzlein had led them into whatever passed for a mousetrap on this ship.
“With all due respect, Mister Reyes,” Hetzlein said, her voice low and tight, “shut up or I’ll shoot you myself.” Taking a knee, she reached for the sole of her right boot and twisted it so that it dropped downward, revealing a small rectangle of burnished metal. Extracting the object from the boot’s concealed compartment, she turned it over to reveal a single, recessed button in the item’s metal casing. “Burst transmitter,” she said, holding up the device. “Single-use, tight-beam focused transmission. It’ll punch through any jamming field they might have up around the—”
Something bumped into something else at the room’s far end, and Reyes and Hetzlein turned in that direction, each searching for the source of the odd noise. Reyes felt a knot form in his gut at the same time Hetzlein was retrieving her phaser from the deck next to her right foot. She managed to pick up the weapon before a burst of energy exploded from somewhere in the darkness and zipped across the room, striking her in the chest. Her face a mask of agony, Hetzlein crumpled to the deck even as a second disruptor bolt hit her.
Something clanked against the metal near the fallen woman and Reyes saw that Hetzlein had dropped the transmitter. For a fleeting instant, he considered diving for the device, but at the last second he kicked at it with his boot, sending it sliding across the deck away from him. He held up his hands to the approaching Orions, showing them that he was unarmed, but that was all he could do before something struck him in the back and he lurched as though touched by a live power conduit. His muscles jerked, racked by spasms, and his jaw clenched as the effects of whatever had hit him coursed over and through his body. Then, everything around him faded to black.
16
Heihachiro Nogura prided himself on not being a man given to negative displays of emotion. It was a rare event for him to raise his voice above a conversational tone, much less yell at anyone. Even more uncommon was his use of anything other than mild obscenities, and he preferred to avoid other abusive invective. He was confident enough in his position and in the authority he commanded that it was an infrequent occasion when he felt the need to make known his displeasure with anything other than a calm, professional demeanor.
Today felt as though it might just be shaping up to be one of those occasions.
His hands clasped behind his back so that they would not form fists of their own accord, Nogura stalked back and forth across the width of his office, pacing the section of deck between his desk and the silent, unmoving figure of Lieutenant Haniff Jackson. With the simple act of standing still and not saying a word, Nogura figured that Starbase 47’s chief of security was doing perhaps the smartest thing he had ever done in his young life. Though he might well have been content to let the younger man sweat for the next hour or so while pondering his fate, Nogura had no time for such distractions, satisfying though they might appear to be at the moment. With that in mind, he halted his pacing as he came abreast of the lieutenant, turning to face him from a distance of less than one meter.
“Mister Jackson,” he said, his voice low and controlled even though he permitted a hint of menace, “perhaps you’d be so kind as to tell me just what the hell’s been going on aboard my station, and why I’m just now finding out about it?”
Holding himself at attention, Jackson stood more than a head taller than Nogura, but rather than looking down, the muscular security chief’s gaze instead was focused on a spot somewhere on the office’s rear wall. Beads of perspiration had broken out on the man’s bald head, and one droplet already was working its way down the side of his face. Nogura watched him swallow whatever lump had formed in his throat before drawing a deep breath.
“I’m sorry, Admiral,” Jackson said, and Nogura was certain that he heard a slight tremble in the lieutenant’s voice. “I was operating under direct orders from Admiral Komack not to discuss the operation with anyone, including you, sir. In fact, he specifically ordered me not to brief you.”
Komack. Nogura felt his teeth beginning to grate. While he was acquainted with his fellow flag officer, he had never worked with James Komack. The admiral was a recent addition to the senior staff at Starfleet Headquarters on Earth after being transferred from his previous posting as the head of the command element overseeing Sector 9. There, Komack had built a solid reputation as a no-nonsense officer who got results, and tolerated little in the way of deviations from established or accepted policies and procedures. Nogura also recalled that Komack had, years earlier, served for a time at Starfleet Academy, overseeing the institution’s ethics review board, where he also was known as being unforgiving with regard to discipline, particularly if it involved cheating or other dishonorable behavior on the part of a cadet. In Nogura’s opinion, Komack was a “rules person” rather than a “people person,” meaning he was the sort of officer who preferred the letter of the law rather than its spirit and intentions. He seemed disposed to view the universe around him from a stark, black-and-white perspective, rather than learning to appreciate the myriad shades of gray to be found in the broad spectrum between those two extremes.
Nogura had little patience for people like that, and that was before such individuals chose to interfere with him and his responsibilities.
“Admiral Komack,” he said, considering this revelation and not liking any of the scenarios conjured by his imagination. “Did he happen to offer any particular reasoning for that directive?”
Swallowing another lump, Jackson nodded. “Yes, sir. The admiral said he wanted to protect you and the station’s senior staff from any recriminations should the operation fail.”
“And what if you’d succeeded?” Nogura asked, allowing some of his anger to seep into his voice. “Was I to receive all the credit for a job well done? A ticker-tape parade across Fontana Meadow? Would the Orions have presided over the festivities, offering me a medal or perhaps a nice selection of pastries?” Turning from Jackson, he resumed his pacing. “Do you have any idea what this idiotic scheme will do to our relations with the Orions? It’s bad enough we have to smile and nod our heads when we know their pirate ships are raiding our freighters and other civilian craft, even though we have no hard evidence to hold over their heads. Now, I have to find a way to kowtow to that jackass Ganz, in the hope he doesn’t flush Diego Reyes down a waste extraction vent, or grind him up and serve him to his pet … whatever the hell he has for pets over there.” His irritation continuing its slow boil, Nogura once again stopped before Jackson and eyed the security chief. “How long has this plan been in motion?”
“Admiral Komack contacted me three days ago, sir,” the lieutenant replied. “We started making our preparations immediately upon receiving his orders.”
“Three whole days?” Nogura asked, making no effort to contain his sarcasm. “Well, I can’t imagine why the mission wasn’t a resounding success, with that sort of in-depth advance planning.” Then, regretting his words, he forced himself to draw a deep, calming breath before shaking his head in irritation. If there was one thing he never had been able to stomach, it was waste, and above all, he loathed the notion of wasted lives.
“This entire affair has been a mess from the beginning,” he said, turning from Jackson and moving to stand before his office’s main viewscreen. “Admiral Komack should have gotten my input for any such mission. I probably should have apprised him of our efforts to utilize Diego Reyes. You should have come to me, Lieutenant, but I can respect that you were given direct orders by a superior, which you had to obey.” Nogura held little regard for the practice of placing subordinates in positions where they were forced to lie to their commanding officers or otherwise keep information from them, and even less tolerance for officers who utilized the tactic. There would be a conversation with Admiral James Komack on this topic, Nogura decided, but for now it would have to wait.
“None of that matters,” he continued. “All that matters is that two of my people are dead. No matter who takes the blame for this idiocy, that won’t change.” The best he could do now was to take steps to see that such an incident was not repeated. With a tired sigh, he turned his attention back to Jackson. “Lieutenant, please ensure that both Hetzlein’s and Gianetti’s families have been notified, and begin preparing their personal effects for transport to whatever destination they have listed in their records. I would also appreciate a personal letter to each of the families by you, to accompany the letters I’ll be sending.”
Jackson nodded. “Aye, aye, sir.”
Before Nogura could say anything else, the intercom on his desk beeped for attention, followed by the voice of his assistant, Ensign Toby Greenfield. “Admiral, Commander Moyer is here and wishes to see you, if you’re available.”
“Send her in, Ensign,” Nogura replied, then nodded to Jackson. “That will be all, Lieutenant. Dismissed.” His office doors parted to allow the security chief’s exit, and Nogura watched as the burly man maneuvered his large frame to one side in order to make room for Lieutenant Commander Holly Moyer, who stood just outside the office, holding a data slate next to her right thigh. Her expression was one of uncertainty, and Nogura could see that she was taking steps to maintain her poise. Without acknowledging Jackson’s greeting, she waited until he was out of her way before proceeding into Nogura’s office, then paused as the doors slid shut behind her.
“Commander,” Nogura said by way of greeting. “What can I do for you?”
Moyer replied, “Good evening, Admiral. I’ve just been informed about the failed rescue mission aboard the Omari-Ekon. Sir, with all due respect, what the hell was Starfleet thinking, authorizing a covert operation onto an Orion ship? Do they want to start a war?”
“Don’t get me started on Starfleet,” Nogura said, shaking his head. “I didn’t know about the rescue mission until after it failed. Starfleet Command is worried about how much damage Reyes can do if he’s interrogated and broken by the Orions or whoever else they hire to work on him.” He shrugged. “I don’t think that’s a real threat, because they have to know we’re watching, and if we catch wind of anything like that taking place, they also have to know that I won’t hesitate to flush every regulation down the toilet before sending an armed boarding party to that ship and running our flag up the mast.” He paused, offering a small, humorless smile. “Figuratively speaking, of course. Regardless, you can be sure I’ll be getting answers from Headquarters about all of this, and damned soon.”
Appearing not to be comforted by that declaration, Moyer said, “This is just the latest addition to a very long list of things which have happened since we established a presence here. Diego Reyes sacrificed his career because he felt much of what was going on here was wrong. Not everything, but some things.” She shook her head. “I don’t know if I agree with his choices, and we can argue all day about whether this action or that decision was necessary, but some things can’t be argued.”
Struck by the passion behind her words, Nogura was forced to nod in agreement. “You’re right, Commander. Some things can’t be argued. History will have to judge whether the steps we took here were the right ones, but for now, all we can do is follow our orders, and our conscience. When those two are in conflict, then we simply must do the best we can, and hope that we’re guided by sound principles and the best interests of everyone who stands to be affected by what we allow—or don’t allow—to happen here.”
Moyer frowned. “I’ll be honest, Admiral; I don’t see that happening. Instead, I see a lot of sneaking around, trying to get the drop on the Orions or the Klingons or whoever stands in our way. I understand that we need to keep the Klingons from getting their hands on Shedai technology, but if we end up in a war against the Empire, then what have we saved? How many people have died since that first meta-genome sample was found? How many more have to die to preserve this secret?”
“Hopefully none,” Nogura said, “but we both know how unlikely that is. Instead, all we can hope for is that those who die don’t do so in vain. I don’t believe that’s been the case, despite the best of intentions and efforts. Regardless, the stakes are simply too high to stop now. We have to keep pushing forward, and doing our best to make sure that everything that’s come before hasn’t been for nothing.”
Shaking her head, Moyer released a long, slow sigh. “I don’t know if I can do this, sir. My world is the law, and when we sidestep or push aside the law for expediency, even if we believe it’s for a just cause, then we lose just a little bit more of what it is about us that’s supposed to make all of this effort worthwhile.”
“And that’s precisely why I need you where you are, Commander,” Nogura replied, “doing exactly what you’re doing. I need someone to observe everything that goes on here through the very prism your position affords. I like to think I always know when I get close to stepping over some line, but I also like having someone else point it out to me when that’s necessary.”
Moyer said, “And what if I disagree with something you decide to do, sir?”
“I’ll give you every opportunity to set me straight,” Nogura answered. “If I still decide to go a certain way, you’ll be free to file any protest or report you deem appropriate. You’ll be able to carry out your duties with autonomy. On that, Commander, you have my word.”
Appearing to be comforted by Nogura’s words, Moyer nodded. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate your confidence.”
Nogura smiled. “Don’t worry, Commander. Considering everything we’ve faced to this point, and given what might still happen before it’s all over, I expect we’ll be having a lot of these conversations.”
17
His fist clenched and poised above his head, Ganz paused in mid-swing as he took notice of Neera entering his office. Dressed in a dark maroon shift that was cut high on the thigh and that left little to the imagination as she passed beneath the room’s recessed lighting, she regarded him with an expression of amused exasperation.
“Don’t,” she said, making her way past his desk toward the bar. “It’s brand-new, and you’ve already gone through your ration of inanimate objects for this accounting cycle.”
Ganz regarded the computer interface terminal on his desk, which was the intended target of his rage. It sat before him, defenseless, waiting for him to mete out a punishment it did not deserve. Though destroying the terminal would provide a fleeting moment’s consolation, it would do nothing to solve the actual problems still requiring his attention.
“Well,” he said, relaxing his fist and lowering himself back into the chair behind his desk, “I need to hit something. Or someone.”
Standing at the bar, Neera cast a knowing, amused glance over her shoulder as she fixed herself a drink. “There’s a vase in the bedroom I never liked. Feel free to hit that.”
“Too easy. I prefer a challenge,” Ganz replied, though he was already feeling his initial anger beginning to ebb. When the mood struck her, Neera could be a very astute caregiver, knowing just what to say or do in order to calm him at times like these, when all he wanted was to vent his frustrations on anyone or anything within reach.
He shook his head as he considered the report displayed on the computer terminal. Submitted by his head of security, Tonzak, it detailed the skirmish involving the two Starfleet officers who had come aboard the Omari-Ekon in a bid to extradite Diego Reyes. Though their attempt had not been successful, the true ramifications of the incident were yet to be felt, and it was this aspect of the unfortunate situation that unsettled him.
“I didn’t think Starfleet had the naghs to send somebody to snatch Reyes,” he said.
Neera turned from the bar, drink in hand, and eyed him with a quizzical expression. “Klingon slang?”
“I like the way it rolls off the tongue,” Ganz replied without looking away from the screen. “Nogura must be out of his mind, authorizing something like this.”
Pausing while she sipped from her glass, Neera said, “I don’t think it was Nogura. While I wouldn’t put it past him, he doesn’t strike me as someone who would have authorized such an ill-conceived and poorly executed plan.”
Ganz considered the wisdom of his lover’s observation, nodding in agreement. “When you say it out loud, it makes sense. So, somebody ordered an extraction attempt over Nogura’s head?” He smiled at that thought as he leaned back in his chair. “I’m guessing he didn’t like that.” From his few dealings with the Starfleet admiral, Ganz had concluded that Nogura was a man who would not appreciate anyone undermining his authority. He would be angry at the events that had transpired without his knowledge, even more so for the resulting deaths. Ganz could understand how the admiral might feel, though he did so for different reasons.
“Idiots,” he said, gritting his teeth as he once more reviewed the report. “If they’d stunned the humans, we could have used them as leverage against Nogura.” The prospect of holding two Starfleet officers, captured while in the midst of an illegal intrusion into Orion sovereign territory, might well have been all Ganz needed to extract some form of concession from the admiral as a means of avoiding an interstellar incident. Despite the attitude Nogura had shown toward Ganz from the moment he had arrived to take command of Starbase 47, he would not have been able to refuse such an offer. Even if to do so was his personal preference, the admiral still had to answer to his masters at Starfleet Command, who would want an expedient resolution to what still held the potential to become an embarrassment not just to Starfleet, but to Ganz and even Neera, as well. If Neera’s superiors within the Orion Syndicate were to learn of the problems being experienced aboard the Omari-Ekon, they might also decide that cutting their own losses was the prudent course of action in order to prevent the possibility of greater attention being cast in their direction. Such a decision likely would not be in favor of any continued breathing Neera, Ganz, or anyone in their employ might wish to do.
“Have you disposed of the bodies?” Neera asked.
Ganz nodded. “Tonzak took care of it.”
“Well, at least he’s showing some promise.” Taking another sip from her glass, Neera swirled its remaining contents before adding, “Have you considered promoting him? You’ve been saying you need someone to replace Zett for months now.”
Frowning, Ganz shook his head. “I may have had issues with some of Zett’s choices, and it was his own bad judgment that got him killed, but that doesn’t mean just anyone can replace him. He had skills, I’ll give him that.” Zett Nilric, his former “business manager,” had numbered covert assassination among his many formidable talents. The Nalori had taken care of several delicate tasks for Ganz in recent years, and the Orion had valued Zett’s ability to act quickly with precision and discretion. If he had possessed one failing, it was an overdeveloped sense of pride, and it was that pride, wounded by Cervantes Quinn, which led to his eventual death at Quinn’s hands. In the months that had passed since then, Ganz had been without someone in the position Zett had once occupied. He had considered several members of his staff, but found each of them wanting. Tonzak was the most promising from a rather shallow pool of uninspiring candidates.
