Текст книги "This Gray Spirit "

Автор книги: Heathe Jarman

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Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 30 страниц)

“Ummm, Colonel,” Matthias started in a gravelly voice before interrupting herself with a yawn. “I only have Starfleet’s field medicine certification, but when I heard the emergency call go out over the com, I knew you’d need extra hands. I’m here to help.”

“Thank you, Commander. And Thriss has joined you because…?”

Commander Matthias rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Thriss trained as a medic through level three. Preparing for med school, in fact.” Phillipa yawned again. “She worked with the civilian population on Betazed after the emancipation. Situations like these are all in a day’s work for her.”

“I spent two months working in hospitals in the capitol city,” Thriss said, thrusting out her medkit for Kira to inspect. She appeared to have the right tools, but Kira had reservations.

At Kira’s skeptical look, Matthias added, “I’m confident that Thriss can handle anything Dr. Girani would assign her. Allowing her to help out could be mutually beneficial.”

“Report to Dr. Girani, then,” Kira instructed them both. “And thank you.”

Matthias lingered behind for a moment, waiting for Thriss to be out of earshot. “Colonel, I’ll stay close by. If I sense that she needs to leave, I’ll escort her back to her quarters.”

“Thriss does seem more—alert—maybe cheerful?” Kira observed.

“She expects to hear from Ensign ch’Thane when the next batch of communiqués comes from the Defiant.She loves him—misses him. Hearing from him reassures her,” Matthias explained. She yawned again and trailed off after Thriss.

Kira appreciated Matthias’s efforts: the only way they’d survive the current craziness was to be vigilant in looking out for each other. No matter the planet of origin, parentage, past misdeeds or present challenges—we have to assume that our success or failures come by every individual’s choice.She considered the work being done before her, the cooperation of diverse organizations and species in helping these stupid fools who probably deserved their misery.

A Cardassian sporting a bruise on his forehead the size of a jumjafruit moaned somewhere to her left. She dropped to a knee, clicked the tricorder off her utility belt and scanned his skull, looking for evidence of a concussion. Jerking away from her, the soldier stared up at her, fear and distrust in his eyes, his body rigid.

“You’re going to be fine,” Kira said, reassuringly. “I’ll find you something that will take care of the pain.”

Ro made her way around the debris until she reached the keypad access port to Quark’s bar. An alphanumeric combination overrode Quark’s lock and the door obediently opened. Nonchalantly, she strolled into the bar, nodding a hello to Morn, who sat nursing a mug.

What a mess.

Shattered goblets and snifters, malodorous cheeses and seafood sauces smeared into the upholstery, wadded-up napkins, overturned tongowheels, and more than a dozen broken wine bottles drizzling fermented fruit juice onto the floor. Navigating this in bare feet was akin to picking her way through a minefield. There had to be something…an idea occurred to her.

“Hey, Treir! You around here somewhere?” Ro called, craning her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of what other surprises might yet await her.

Quark popped up from behind the bar. “Not even a ‘hello, Quark, I was worried about you?’ We had a regular Core breach in here tonight and you’re not the slightest bit concerned.” He clicked his tongue. “You and Treir don’t have something going on that I don’t know about, do you?” he said, a shade too casually.

“Shut up, Quark. I need shoes.”

“Now that you mention it, your wardrobe is on the skimpy side tonight. I’m sure I’ve got something in the storeroom. Back in a flash.” Disappearing into the rear, he materialized a moment later, a pair of spangly, sparkly-blue high heels dangling from his ring and pinky fingers.

Ro resisted her impulse to force him to contort his feet into those podiatric nightmares. “Be serious,” she snorted.

“You have such pedestrian taste, Laren.” He pulled a pair of flat sandals from behind his back and plopped them onto the counter. “Better?”

Taking a seat on a bar stool, Ro hoisted one foot onto her knee and into a shoe and then repeated the process with the other foot. “You wanna tell me what happened here tonight?” she said, sweeping aside ground-up matza-stick crumbs with her elbow. She needed a space to work.

“Ask five different people who started it, you’ll get five different answers,” Quark said solemnly. He took a bar towel and brushed refuse into a dustpan, whose contents promptly went into the replicator. “All I know for certain is that it was Bajorans and Cardassians failing to work and play well with each other. Like it takes a quantum physicist to understand that the bad blood between your people and the Cardassians is destined to lead to disaster.”

Ro placed a padd on the cleared spot on the bar and began to take notes. “Other than your astute, upbeat analysis of Bajoran/Cardassian relations, any specific things you might remember—you know, clues that might help us toss some hotheads in the brig—assign some accountability?”

“Not offhand, no. But speaking of accountability, who’s going to pay for this disaster? Because there’s no way that this is my fault.” Quark threw open his arms, indicating the expanse of his establishment. “And the lost revenues! We’re not going to be cleaned up in time for alpha shift. This is an outrage. I demand to speak to Colonel Kira and Gul Macet!” Continuing to prattle on, Quark walked from one end of the room to the other, interspersing diatribes with his cleanup efforts. He tried to impress upon Ro the gravity of every scratched chair and crumb-covered table.

Ro massaged her ridges with the tips of her fingers. High noise, low signal,she thought, hoping he might deign to throw in a few useful facts between his explanation of thread counts and his assertion that he’d never known a Cardassian to complain about kanarjust past the “use by” date. Not surprisingly, he unequivocally denied any culpability for Cardassians put in sour moods after partaking of bad liquor.

A couple of hours later, Kira believed they were on the downside of arrests, medical treatments and cleanup. The Promenade wouldn’t be ready by the start of the business day, and morning Temple services would also be cancelled. Still awaiting her was the unpleasant task of rousing Shakaar with the update of the night’s goings-on. He wouldn’t be pleased.

Starting toward ops, she glimpsed Macet on the opposite platform, herding the last of his shackled men toward a turbolift. She stopped to watch him, presuming that he likely felt the same exhaustion she did. He must have sensed her because he stopped to meet her gaze. Their eyes linked only long enough for a mutual understanding to pass between them. Turning away, he barked orders to those assisting him and disappeared from her sight.

When she was satisfied he was gone, Kira said quietly, “You can deshroud now.”

Taran’atar shimmered into visibility beside her. “Colonel?”

“Maintaining surveillance on Gul Macet will no longer be necessary,” Kira said, still staring after the departed Cardassian.

“I concur,” the Jem’Hadar said. “Will there be anything else?”

Kira considered the question. “What do you think of him?” she asked finally.

Taran’atar hesitated. “He isn’t what I expected.”

Kira nodded. “I know exactly what you mean.”

17

Water-light reflected in lazy loops on the rust sandstone walls, disrupted by stones skimming the surface. Rippling rings emerged as the rock fell to the streambed with a hollow plop, a prelude to the storm rumbling in the distance. The air crackled, anticipating release.

Crouched low to the ground, Shar scooped up a handful of gravel and rocks, sifting it through his fingers, fishing out the smooth flat stones, tossing aside the dross. He skipped one across the stream and another, losing himself in the rhythm of the mindless task.

“The rules of conduct are not negotiable,” the headmaster had

explained patiently in a tone he’d use for an idiot. “You are not an exception.”

He skipped another stone.

Her antennae rigid with barely contained fury,zhavey had bellowed,“Tezha is reserved for theshelthreth! Don’t tempt fate, Thirishar!” He’d protested his innocence, but she refused his explanations.

He scratched through the damp sand for another stone, willing away their chastisements. Gradually, the voices ofzhavey and the headmaster twisted and twined into the low moans of the growing wind. A gust shaved dry needles off spindly conifers, flipped dry leaves onto their backs. Shar pulled his tunic closer to him to stave off the chill. He shivered.

And then he sensed her.

Without hearing her bare feet sending pebbles skittering up the path or seeing the sheen of perspiration damp on her arms and face, he knew she stood behind him, watching. She always watched him and he hated her for it. He could be standing across the hallway or tucked in a window seat reading and her eyes would always find him. When he felt her closeness, his throat tightened as the air became unbearably dry.

“What are you doing here?” he said disdainfully, willing his thudding heart to steady. He refused to look at her. Attention would only encourage her. She’d been impossible yesterday, following him out into the hills, an act that had led to them both ending up in the headmaster’s office to receive official notations on their records.

“That’s a fine hello, Thirishar,” she sniffed, tossing her hair.

That hair of hers, Shar thought, annoyed.That ridiculous fine, straight hair, soft like spun silk thread when she brushed against him… “If I’d wanted you here, I would have invited you. Of course, that didn’t stop you yesterday when you invited yourself along on my research trip. I neglected to thank you for that, by the way. I’ve been given a failing grade on the project.”

“Rules say you aren’t supposed to go alone.” She circled closer.

He picked through the dirt. “Rules say you’re not supposed to go alone with a bondmate.”

“You would have ended up half-frozen if I hadn’t been there.”

“If you hadn’t been there, I might not have gotten lost!”

“And to think I came up here to apologize!”

Shar snorted. “Your apologies won’t help me pass environmental studies.” Reluctantly, he tore his eyes from the ground and looked at her, radiant in the bruised, colored half-light, gauzy skirt flapping in the wind. She granted him only a momentary glance of her gray eyes.

“Fine then.” Thriss threaded her arms across her chest and jumped up onto a boulder sitting beside the spring. She began crossing to the opposite side, jumping sprightly from rock to rock with balletic grace. Her shimmering hair, blown by the wind, strayed across her face and she threw back her head, gazing up at the darkening sky. She closed her eyes, slightly arching her back and threw open her arms, embracing the imminent storm.

Shar watched the gentle rise and fall of her breathing. He swallowed hard and looked away.

A shadow crossed over. A violent clap of thunder announced the storm. Raindrops pelted the earth, sending up clouds of pink dust from the pathway. The stony metallic scent of rain on hot canyon rock drenched the air.

Thriss laughed, cupping her palms to capture the rain.

“Get down from there!” Shar ordered.

“Why should I?”

“Because you’ll be soaked, that’s why and I refuse to accept the blame when you come down with a raging case ofzhem!” Sloshing across the stream, he tamped down the impulse to yell. A loss of control would only exacerbate this situation. He refused to yield the upper hand to petulant Thriss because that was precisely what she wanted. Reaching for her wrists, he encircled them with his thumb and forefinger. He tugged gently; she might be equal to him in height, but he was stronger than she.

Refusing to budge, she said, “You come up here.” Her eyes danced playfully.

“Thriss—!” he warned loudly, his voice muted by the rain’s plip-plop chatter.

“I think you’ll find the view is quite lovely from here.”

He followed her gaze to the billowing dark clouds, backlit by flashes of lightning. A stray bolt leapt out, igniting dry scrub growing in canyon rock crevices. Flames greedily devoured the parched wood, leaving behind steaming, charred carcasses.

The flash sent the nerves of his antennae tingling almost painfully. Exasperated, Shar yanked her down. Thriss lost her footing on the algae-covered rock and she slipped forward, sending them both tumbling into the water.

Bracing herself over him, Thriss sputtered, pushing sodden tendrils out of her face. She narrowed her eyes. “You always have to have your way.”

“We wouldn’t be here—I wouldn’t be here—if you knew how to stay out of my life!”

“Your life?” Throwing back her head, she laughed grimly. “Fine. I’ll go.” She struggled to her feet, trying to untangle her limbs from her sopping clothes as she walked. A misplaced foot caught on her hem and she tripped, landing facedown in the shallow spring. Weakly, she pushed up on her elbows.

“Thriss!” Shar scrambled over to her side. Ignoring her halfhearted protests, he hooked her by the arm and eased her to her feet. She stiffened at his touch, jerking away as soon as they reached the bank. Shar’s fears for her well-being persisted until he was satisfied that she sustained only scratches and bruises from her fall. He exhaled raggedly.

Assuming she would resist his help, Shar threw an immovable arm around her waist, guiding her inside the cavern where he’d left his pack. Thriss perched on a rock while he searched for a survival blanket or dry clothing. Teeth chattering, she crossed her arms over her chest, hunched her shoulders and shivered for warmth. Shar dropped down beside her and tended her wounds.

“You shouldn’t have come up here,” he said at last.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

As he mended her scrapes, her shivering evolved into trembling. A sob escaped her throat; Shar knew that she wept often. “Come here,” he said, drawing her onto his lap, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her tight against him. He rested his cheek in her hair and rubbed her back. Murmured words from an unknown place inside him settled her. Gradually, her ragged sobs ceased; she hiccupped a few times and then rested her face against his chest with a sigh. Her antennae brushed a ticklish spot beneath his chin.

He didn’t feel like laughing.

He became sensitized to her hands resting on the small of his back, the way she curved into him, molding her body against his. Taking her chin in his hand, he tipped her face up. For as long as he had memories, she was in them. Difficult, childish, lanky…sweet-smelling likechallorn flowers, hair gossamer soft and her eyes—her stormy eyes swallowed him. Exploring the velvet hollows of her throat with his fingertips, he felt her pulse quicken as he traced the edge of her collarbone with his thumb. He stared.

Thriss held Shar’s look, loosened the tie on her blouse, pushed back the wet, clinging fabric, pulling it down to puddle around her waist. He reached for her and hesitated, knowing her apparition would dissolve with his touch as it always did in his dreams. Until she placed his hand on her chest and he felt the warmth of her skin against his palm. Startled by her realness, he pulled away, wincing upon losing his connection with her.

I need her. He received this revelation with the same faith that allowed him to understand the revolution of planets and the nature of light.I need her.

He fumbled with his tunic. With shaking fingers, Thriss, too, clutched at his clothing, but her clumsiness matched his own. Pressing foreheads together they shared an awkward laugh. Hands linked, they yanked his tunic over his head and tossed it on the ground.

They pressed close, antennae touching, stroking, until trembling cascaded over them. He nestled her back against his chest, embedding each delicate vertebra into his skin; his hands settled on the slope of her hips, caressed the curve, and stroked the small of her back. She reached her arms behind her, drawing his face into her neck, knotting her fingers in his locks. All that he had been taught and warned about dissolved into languid twilight. She had been given to him, and he to her. And he accepted at last what elemental thing had been between them since their memories began.

A chime started Shar awake. His eyes opened and he found himself sitting in front off the main console of the Sagan.At last check, it had been close to dawn; now, it was four hours later. The vaguest sense that he was forgetting something lingered in the back of his mind.

“Model complete,”the ship’s computer intoned. “Image available upon request.”

“Display,” Shar ordered. Maybe seeing the model would help jar his memory about which of the three or four data files he’d been working on before he fell asleep. Sleeping was counterproductive, especially when his vivid dreams left him wondering what reality he was in.

I wonder if the others ever suspected. It isn’t like I wear a visible mark,he thought. Recollections of intimacies shared with Thriss often dredged up guilt. Though he’d never regretted the choice to initiate tezha,he knew Anichent and Dizhei would be hurt by their choice to go outside the bond. Not only because it was forbidden but also because their choice implied infidelity to the bond as a whole. Over the last six years, Shar had gradually recognized that he would eventually face consequences for breaking the covenant. Anichent would feel betrayed. Dizhei would fear for the stability of the bond. But Shar was confident they could surmount these obstacles. I’ve maintained strong, healthy relationships with all my bondmates,Shar reasoned. I love them all and I anticipate sharing my life with them for many years to come.

He considered this latest holographic model of Yrythny DNA. Since his trip to the peninsula, Shar had worked, day and night, processing the data by utilizing the Andorian gene-mapping strategies he was familiar with to develop models. Thankfully, he had enough Wanderer data to track the subtle nuances of their genetic drift. Houseborn information was spottier. The samples from the Assembly and those the Hebshu farmers had managed to collect from their Houseborn colleagues provided Shar enough reference points from the past with which to compare current data.

Identifying primary gene functions had been his first priority. Once the chromosomal architecture had been adequately mapped, Shar began tracking mutations and the consequences of those mutations. The computer had spent the night comparing Wanderer samples, synthesizing generalizations about where mutations occurred and what consequences resulted. If there proved to be a pattern, Shar would project future drift and see what conclusions could be drawn.

“Computer, display results from Yrythny data analysis ch’Thane Beta four.”

So far, the results hadn’t yielded many surprises. In the genes governing intelligence, both Wanderer and Houseborn Yrythny had equal potential. Similar results cropped up in areas of physical strength and health. More distinctions existed on the Houseborn side between Houses. What am I not seeing?Shar thought, frustrated. There’s something right here in front of me and I’m not seeing it.

“Shar?” Lieutenant Dax said, climbing through the entry hatch.

His nagging sense of forgetting vanished when he remembered the imminent trip planetside for Homecoming. “Yes, Lieutenant. I’m here.”

“We missed you at breakfast,” Dax said, clicking open a locker and tossing a shoulder bag inside.

“We?”

“We, Ensign.” Keren entered behind Dax, with Vice Chair Jeshoh bringing up the rear.

“Oh. I didn’t realize we’d have company, Lieutenant.”

“Keren and Jeshoh did chair the committees I worked with. It’s only fitting that they come as co-presenters. Besides, Jeshoh is House Perian’s favorite son. We’re VIPs when we travel with him.” Dax slid into the seat beside Shar. “How’s the research coming?”

Shar hesitated. He didn’t want to reveal any strategy Ezri might be still trying to protect.

“Speak freely, Ensign,” Dax said, evidently surmising his reservations “I doubt your study will change much at this point.”

Unfortunately, she’s right,Shar thought regretfully. “On the face of things, the data indicate that the Yrythny, generally, don’t have a lot to differentiate them. Statistically significant variations exist within the body of Houseborn data and the body of Wanderer data, but not between Houseborn and Wanderer.”

“See, Jeshoh, I told you that I was your equal,” Keren teased.

“You can say it, but I don’t believe it,” Jeshoh retorted.

“What’s next?” Ezri asked, thumbing through Shar’s results on her own viewscreen.

“Projecting the long-term genetic drift. Mapping the likely mutations and the probable outcome of those mutations. I expect to complete the analysis by tonight.”

“Excellent. Keep me posted.” Dax leaned close enough to Shar that only he could hear her. “I know you had a lot invested in this project, and you’ve done superior work. Don’t beat yourself up about not finishing in time. The Assembly is happy with the compromise I proposed. I think we’ve succeeded in helping the Yrythny.”

Eyes straight ahead, Shar said politely, “As you say, sir.”

Dax turned to the passengers in the aft seats. “Strapped in?”

Keren and Jeshoh answered affirmatively.

“All right, then. Ensign, prepare for launch.”

“Yes, sir,” Shar acknowledged. “Luthia launch control, this is shuttle Saganrequesting clearance for takeoff.”

“ShuttleSagan, you are clear for launch.”

For Shar, knowing he was going to Vanìmel for the last time felt bittersweet. Vaughn and the Defiantwould return tomorrow, prepared to resume their explorations. Dax’s assurances aside, he berated himself for failing to accomplish his personal goals. He ought to be satisfied with the away team’s work; they’d all played a role in Ezri’s diplomatic efforts. Her proposed compromise was logical, if not particularly original. If the committees’ response indicated how the Yrythny, as a whole, would respond, her ideas would be well received. But he could have done more. I should have done more,Shar thought. After all we’ve been through, this can’t be all.

In the days since they left the Consortium, all crewmen had worked on their designated pieces of Vaughn’s plan and now, they waited. Experience had taught Vaughn not to be impatient. All hell would break loose soon enough. In the last hour, the finer points of the femtobot defense had been finalized. Though engineering wasn’t his forte, he found Leishman’s report fascinating, including the successful synthesis of a particle fountain metal with a Federation alloy.

Excitedly, Rahim called from his station, “I’ve got them, Captain.”

Vaughn looked up from the padd he’d been studying. “Let’s hear it.”

The bridge officer hurriedly tapped in a few commands. “Compensating for radiant interference, audio feed—”

“—when the shuttle with our payment leaves theAvaril, it will also carry the alien’s chief technologist, Nog. You’ll need him to translate the specifications into a working device.”

“This is from the Avaril?”Vaughn asked.

Rahim nodded.

Vaughn knew from time with J’Maah that the subspace channel hosting the transmission wasn’t a usual Yrythny frequency. So we are dealing with a conspirator. J’Maah will be a sitting duck.

“What are we supposed to do with him?”a metallic Cheka voice reverberated through the bridge.

“Once he’s built the cloak, you can do with him as you please. It’s of no consequence to us.”

“Can we identify the vocal patterns?” Vaughn asked. If he could figure out who the traitor was, he might be able to send a covert communiqué to J’Maah before the deal went down.

Rahim apologized. “No, sir. I’ve already had to modify the audio to work with our decryption algorithms.”

A small price to pay for confirmation,he thought.

The channel clicked off, but Vaughn had gained a clear visual of how the pieces would move across the chessboard. He touched his combadge. “Vaughn to Permenter.”

“Go ahead.”

“Have you ever heard of a noisemaker, Ensign? The tactical variety?”

He could hear her hesitation.

“I’ll be right down. I have another project for you. Vaughn out. Sam, you have the bridge.”

Bowers looked up from his console. “Noisemaker, sir?”

Vaughn paused at the door. “If this plays out the way I think it will, the Avarilwill be completely vulnerable when the Yrythny conspirators initiate the trade with the Cheka. We have to make it as hard as possible for them to attack the Avaril—or at least improve the odds. I’ve had quite enough of playing by their rules.” Vaughn knew he spoke for every member of the crew. Time to blow the lid off this con game.

Sidestepping a group of servants carrying large bins overloaded with fish, Shar ducked beneath an awning and waited for them to pass. He fingered the padd in his pocket, longing for a minute to sit down and review his research data. He’d downloaded the rudiments of his study to carry with him, anticipating that the evening’s official schedule would allow him plenty of work time. Besides Ezri, most of the major government players were slated to speak; if they resembled most officials, they would have lengthy, repetitive and self-aggrandizing rhetoric to propagate. Considering he more or less knew what would be said, he felt no guilt about using the time more effectively.

As he approached the end of the walkway, Shar realized he was lost. He had taken a left turn at the Fountain Triad, passed by the servants’ quarters and circled back along the north boardwalk to the plaza. Keren had instructed him to meet her near the entrance to the Colonnade, the facility hosting the evening festivities. Instead, Shar arrived at the end of his walk facing a black sea wall marking the narrow alleyway running behind the resident’s wing. From what he’d seen of House Perian, little if any logic had gone into the design. The original House had been built three thousand years ago—the plaza had been at the center. Three millennia had allowed time for the natives to add on the accoutrements of modern life from a marina to a shuttleport to aquaculture outbuildings. Over the course of the afternoon, Shar had seen most of Perian but had yet to retrace his steps. He turned around, looked up to see if Keren might be descending one of the outer staircases or if he could recognize any landmarks. A cluster of Yrythny emerged from the alleyway; Shar approached them. “Excuse me, but I’m looking for the Colonnade.”

The tallest in the group, an Yrythny who reminded Shar of Jeshoh, laughed heartily. “You’re all turned about, stranger. We’re headed there ourselves. You’re welcome to walk with us.”

“Thank you,” Shar said, hoping this group was headed directly for the Colonnade and not eventually to the Colonnade by way of the café, the apartments or the docks. He followed alongside, seeking to regain his bearings. After walking a short distance, Shar recognized a familiar landmark and relaxed. “I’m Thirishar, by the way,” he introduced himself. “But most call me Shar.”

“I’m Nensoh, these are my friends Dernah and Spetsoh. I assumed from the look of you that you’re part of the alien delegation from Luthia. Your hair is astonishing.”

Shar had discovered his hair inordinately fascinated the Yrythny. “Do you live here?” Shar wracked his brain for other questions one asked when making polite conversation. He doubted the finer points of chromosomal architecture would interest this trio.

“Only during the summer. To help with the farming. During the winter, I serve on a starship,” Nensoh explained. “I’m home because my consort and I will go into the water. Here we are.”

The group emerged onto the open square, crowded with Yrythny waiting for admission to the Colonnade. Shar split off from his Yrythny escorts, knowing if he followed them into the throng, he’d never find Keren. “Thank you, Nensoh!” Shar yelled over the cacophonous crowd. He waved farewell.

Puckering his face strangely, Nensoh raised his hand, mimicking the unfamiliar gesture.

And then Shar saw it. The starburst mark.

“Wait!” he called, running after Nensoh.

Nensoh paused when he saw Shar coming toward them. “Shar?”

“The mark on your hand. I’ve seen it before.”

Nensoh shrugged. “It’s not unusual. It appears on the palm of a fertile Yrythny as they enter their reproductive period. My guess is, were you to check the palms of all of these Yrythny, most would bear the mark.”

Shar nodded absently, his mind racing through questions. The night in Keren’s apartment haunted him. In subsequent discussions with Keren, he’d asked about the mark, but she shrugged off his concerns, believing Shar had scared off the invader and thus any potential threat. At least the mark’s commonness made it less likely that Keren was protecting a specific individual. Still…

“Thirishar! Over here!”

Seeking Keren’s faint voice, he narrowed her location to the fringes of the plaza. He squinted, discerning that she had climbed up onto a bench, enabling him to see her over the tall Yrythny. Fixing his bearings on her location, he wormed his way in and out of the tight, packed-in crowds, relieved to emerge from the claustrophobic gathering. Before he could greet her, she jumped down and said, “We can’t stay. There’s an emergency.”

“What is it?” He followed her away from the plaza, jogging toward the seaside path.

“Jeshoh contacted me. The Perian authorities believe the mating grounds are being raided. They’ll be launching the patrols as soon as they can, but all the visitors have blocked the harbor with their watercraft.”

Damn.Without hesitation, Shar tapped his combadge. “Ch’Thane to Dax. We have an emergency.”

With the first moon hidden behind clouds and the second still rising over the mountains, there was little natural illumination as the Sagan,once again carrying Shar, Dax, Keren and Jeshoh, came within visual range of their targets.

“Increase resolution,” Ezri ordered.

Shar tapped in a few commands, sharpening the visual sensors’ acuity by compensating for the diminished light.