Текст книги "Well of Souls"

Автор книги: Ilsa J. Bick

Соавторы: Ilsa J. Bick
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 30 страниц)

“Is at the mines,” said Garrett. She was past anger now. She’d sat through Stern’s dissertation, knowing where it led but still not wanting to believe it. I may not like him much, but maybe that’s my fault, and he’s still my XO.Now, she felt only a creeping weariness, as if an enormous weight had settled on her shoulders. “So there were two separate events.”

“That’s how I see it, Captain.”

“Me, too.” Garrett scrubbed her face with her hands. Then she rolled her eyes toward Tyvan. “You have anythinggermane? Anything to explain this?”

But it was Burke who answered, flashing Garrett a smile that was infuriating because it was so disingenuous, and just a little too smug. “Captain, there’s nothing a psychiatristcan say. Nothing at all.”

Tyvan stiffened, but Garrett didn’t reply. Instead, she reached for companel before her on the conference room table. “Security, get Halak in here. Now.”

Chapter 18

“Well, Commander?” Garrett asked, not sure that she didn’t want to shake Halak until his teeth rattled. “Can you shed some light here?”

There was a pause, as if it had taken time for Garrett’s question to register. Then Halak moved his head fractionally in a weary negative. “I can’t explain it, Captain. I’ve told you what happened. I loved Ani, and I wouldn’t have done anything to harm her. I simply don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“The truth would be a good start.”

“Captain, I’ve toldyou the truth,” said Halak. His voice was hoarse. “I received a message from an old family friend. I detoured to Farius Prime to see her. I admit I should have reported that change in my itinerary. I didn’t, mainly because I had no intention of staying on Farius Prime for long. Ani followed me. I don’t know how she figured out where I was going; I didn’t tell her. But she ended up on the passenger transport from Starbase 5, and there was nothing for it but have her tag along.”

“Stop.” Garrett hacked the air with the side of her hand. “Stop right there, Halak. I don’t want to hear this again. That’s not what we’re interested in, and you know it.”

“Captain.” Halak ran a hand through black hair that was greasy and matted, like lumps of cooked tar. “Captain, I don’t know how to resolve the discrepancies. I don’t know how the dirt that you say shouldn’t have been there got there. Dirt is dirt, and I don’t know. The simple truth is that we were attacked. She was killed and there’s nothing I can do about it. I don’t know what you want from me.”

She heard the genuine undercurrent of pain, and Halak looked awful. His eyes were dull, their whites etched with a tracery of thin, red lines. The lids were swollen and the skin beneath his eyes looked smudged, puffy, and bruised. The olive cast to his skin had turned sallow, and his features were pinched and sharp as if he’d lost weight. When he walked, he favored his right side, and it was obvious he was still in pain. And he was grieving: no faking there.

But it was a grief Burke wanted to exploit. Garrett cast a swift glance at the Starfleet Intelligence officer. The lieutenant was all attention, her brown eyes sparkling and bright. She looked like a Perettian glare-hawk just itching for its chance to swoop down and strike. Well, if Halak couldn’t do better, she’d have her chance. Garrett wouldn’t have any alternative.

Damn Halak, why was he sticking to that story? Impatience gnawed at Garrett’s gut like the sharp beak of hunger. Didn’t he realize that he was throwing everything away—his career, the shreds of what little trust she had in him? Work with me.She tried willing the thought into the gulf between them. Helpus helpyou before it’s too late and it’s out of my hands.Later, she would be surprised that, yes, she didwant to help.

“Halak.” She edged her voice with the imperiousness of a command. “That’s not good enough. I don’t know what the real story is, but it’s somewhere between the lines. I’m going to make this extremely easy for you, Commander. Either you address these discrepancies here and now, or I have no choice but to remand you over to Starfleet Command for a more formal inquiry, and probable disciplinary action.”

Burke spoke. “Captain, if you would pleaselet me…”

“Stow it, Burke.” Garrett didn’t even glance her way. “If Halak goes anywhere, I talk to Starfleet Command first.”

“That’s not what…”

Livid, Garrett swung her head around and glared. “What part of shut updon’t you understand, Burke?”

Burke’s cheeks flared red, and Garrett felt a vicious stab of satisfaction. “I understand perfectly, Captain, but…”

“Obviously, you don’t. Be. Quiet. When I want to hear from you, I’ll ask. If you can’t comply, then you leave and I’ll take my chances with Starfleet. Got it?”

Without waiting for Burke’s reply, Garrett spun her chair back toward Halak and pinned him with a hard look. “Now, Commander, I want the truth. This is an inquiry. You are under oath as a Starfleet officer and a member of my crew. Don’t make me recommend you be charged with perjury. Now, on your word, as an officer in Starfleet and a member of my crew, my first officer,what the hell happened?”

Garrett saw the indecision flash in Halak’s eyes, and then understanding. His tongue flicked out to moisten his lips, and his Adam’s apple bobbled as he swallowed, hard. She waited.

“All right. But, Captain, please understand that whatever I left out,” his eyes darted away, but not before Garrett read his shame, “I did it to protect innocent people. I did it….”

“You let me be the judge of whether you acted wisely, or not,” said Garrett. “Go on.”

Using the back of his hand, Halak swiped at perspiration beaded on his forehead. Garrett saw sweat trickle down his left temple. “I have to start from the time we hit the market.” When Garrett waved for him to continue, he said, “Ani and I had a talk, in a café. She wanted to know more about my past, who I was there to see. I told her about Dalal. Dalal was a woman who worked for my father.”

Briefly, he sketched in the details of his childhood on Vendrak IV. “When my father died, Dalal took over. She made sure I buckled down, and it’s because of her that I ended up in Starfleet. Like I told Ani, I owe Dalal a lot. Why Dalal ended up on Farius Prime, I don’t know. But when she called, I came.”

“And then?”

“And then, on our way to her apartment, we were jumped.” Halak closed his eyes, spoke through teeth that were clenched tight. “Yes, I lied. Three men—I’d never seen them before—attacked us. One of them grabbed Ani. She fought, bit him on the hand, and he knocked her against a wall. I didn’t see all of it because the other two had gone for me.”

In a monotone, Halak recounted how he’d been stabbed. “And then Ani grabbed my phaser and she shot one of them. The one with the knife.”

“A phaser.” Garrett’s voice was thick. “So you didhave a phaser.”

“Yes. My own weapon.”

“Do we have it registered?”

“No.”

Garrett closed her eyes for a brief instant. “Halak,”she said, exasperated. A finger of pain dragged across her right temple, and she knew a headache was on its way.

She flicked a finger—a signal for Halak to continue—and then she listened with a growing sense of unreality as Halak told about stumbling up to Dalal’s apartment with Batra, and how Dalal had patched him up, given them a change of clothes, and fed them. When Halak paused, Garrett said, “And why did Dalal want to see you?”

Halak looked at his hands. “You know, after all that, she didn’t say. Maybe just to check up on me. I don’t know.” His eyes drifted back to Garrett’s. “Anyway, we talked. I tried to get her to leave Farius Prime. She wouldn’t. In the end, because we’d missed our return transport, Dalal offered to set us up with someone she knew. Dalal lives on Gemini Street, not far from the spaceport. So we, Ani and I, went to meet up with this fellow, name of Matsaro.”

“The Bolian.”

“That’s right. Obviously, he knew we weren’t natives and he said that his shuttle wasn’t registered and that he’d stowed it in one of those old abandoned mines in the Katanga Mountains. I didn’t like it, but I wanted to get Ani off the planet and I knew I had to get better medical attention than Dalal was able to give. So we went with him. I had my phaser. Ani had the knife. We went by aircar. There was a shuttle waiting, just like he said. But then, at the last second, he turned around and demanded credits. When he found out we didn’t have any—our credits had been stolen—he threatened to kill us. He had a pulse gun, and he took my phaser. Then he started marching us over the rocks toward one of the old mine entrances. I think he figured to hide our bodies there. Anyway, there was a lot of loose rock, and the going was rough. Ani fell, twisted her ankle.”

“And?” Garrett asked.

Halak raised his face, but Garrett saw that he was far away, looking at the memory. “He wouldn’t let me help her. When she couldn’t get up, the Bolian reached down, and that’s when Ani,” his voice broke, “that’s when she stabbed him.”

“He didn’t know she still had the knife.”

Halak’s face was a study in misery. “That’s right. And then, before I could get there, he shot her.” A single tear rolled down his right cheek. “There wasn’t anything I could do, Captain.”

The room was silent for several moments. Then Garrett cleared her throat. “What happened next?”

Halak tore his gaze away from the memory and looked straight at her and said in a voice as flat and matter-of-fact as if they were discussing a duty roster, “I killed him. I grabbed a rock and I smashed his skull. I beat him until he didn’t have much of anything left you could call a head. Then I put him back into his aircar and programmed it to crash into the Galldean Sea. I tossed the pulse gun and my phaser in there, too. And then I put Batra in the shuttle and…well, you know the rest.”

Garrett nodded, digesting what she’d heard. If Halak was to be believed, he’d killed in self-defense. His story certainly explained the discrepancies Stern had found. “But why didn’t you come forward with this earlier, Commander?”

“Because, Captain, I was worried about Dalal, about implicating her in any way.”

Garrett spread her hands. “But how would she figure in?”

“I guess I wasn’t thinking clearly,” said Halak. “I guess I panicked.”

That struck a false chord in Garrett. She frowned. Halak was impulsive, and he was passionate. But Halak didn’t panic. With a sudden pang of dismay, she realized that she’d believed him—until that moment.

“Captain.” It was Burke, again. “Captain, please,may I say something?”

Garrett didn’t see how she could refuse now. “Does it have direct bearing on what Halak’s just told us?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Proceed.” Then, as Burke opened her mouth, Garrett added, “You take one detour into hypotheticals without convincing me you need to go there, and I’m shutting you down, Lieutenant.”

Burke’s voice was smooth as velvet. “Understood, Captain. I’m just going to deal with facts.”

She swiveled her chair toward Halak. “You say you went to see a woman named Dalal?”

Halak’s black eyes were wary. “Yes.”

“On Gemini Street?”

“That’s right. I said that before.”

“Yes, I know, and that’s what puzzles me, Commander.” Burke inclined her head toward Sivek; the Vulcan hadn’t said one word thus far. “Puzzles us,actually. You see, we checked out the name and the address you provided. Commander,” Burke used his title almost regretfully, “there is no such woman. There isn’t now, and there never has been.”

Garrett started. “What?”

Alarmed, Halak sat bolt upright. “What are you talking about?”

Burke was unruffled. “Precisely what I just said, Commander. There is no Dalal. She’s a story you made up to cover your real motive for visiting Farius Prime.”

“No,” said Halak, half-rising from his seat, “no! That’s not true!”

Burke looked at Halak askance. “You really aren’t in a position to be telling me about truth, Commander.”

“Burke! No, Halak.” Garrett put out a hand as if to restrain her first officer even though she couldn’t touch him. “Sit. Down. Now.”

“But, Captain…”

“Am I speaking Klingon?” Garrett flared. “I said, sit down and be quiet, mister!”

She flashed an angry look at Burke. “Burke, I warned you. I won’t have you inciting my officers. If this is a crazy theory…”

Sivek interrupted, but he did it so smoothly, his interruption sounded as if it had been by invitation. “It’s not theory, Captain. I have verified Lieutenant Burke’s information through the V’Shar. Dalal does not now, nor has she ever existed. She is a convenient, though necessary, fabrication.”

“That’s crap!”Stern said. “You heard the man! I toldyou I found evidence that he’d been patched up! What, you think Halak bandaged himself?”

“Doctor,” said Sivek, and if Garrett hadn’t known better, she’d have thought the Vulcan purred. “The fact that Commander Halak’s wounds were tended to is not in dispute. It’s obvious that they were. But it does not logically follow that the person who treated Commander Halak was in fact the woman he claims.”

“And you have a different theory?” asked Garrett.

“We do,” said Burke. “Captain, I think that if you’ll allow me some free rein here, a little leeway, I’ll be able to shed some light on any nagging issues that remain.”

“Go. Make it good, Burke.”

Burke scraped back her chair and stood. Crossing her arms, she approached Halak. “Commander, I just told you that this woman Dalal doesn’t exist. We checked it out.”

“Then they did something to her,” said Halak. The color in his face had drained away until his eyes looked painted on. “They did something.”

“They, Commander? What theyare you referring to?”

Halak made a nondescript move of his hand. “I don’t know. Just an expression. But she lived there. She was there.”

“Perhaps.” Burke injected just enough skepticism into her tone so it was clear she didn’t believe a word. “But let’s leave Dalal aside for a second, all right? I want to focus on something else, something earlier in your career. Let’s talk about the Ryns, Commander.”

“The Ryns?” Halak’s voice registered his surprise, and Garrett saw his eyes shutter, his face close, like containment doors slamming down during a warp core breach. “What do the Ryns have to do with anything?”

“A great deal, I think. After your Ryn mission, you were removed from the Barker,weren’t you?”

“No,” said Halak. “I requesteda transfer. Captain Connors agreed with my reasons.”

“And those were?”

“Captain Connors understood that some of the crew might look at me differently.”

“And why would that be?”

Halak flushed a deep crimson. “I think it’s all in the record, Lieutenant.”

“Yes. Why don’t tell us again anyway?”

“Because of my actions in the space around Ryn III, two of my crewmates died. If you’ve read my record, then you know that a formal inquiry was held and I was cleared of any culpability. Still, I was the first officer. Those men died on my watch. I would have died, too, but I didn’t. I knew that it would be hard for some of the crew to work well with me, given the circumstances.”

“Pardon me for seeming flip or naïve,” said Burke, “but if you were cleared, Commander, why did you think you had to leave? People dodie in the course of their duties. It’s always regrettable when this happens, but still their deaths weren’t your fault.” She paused, probably for effect. “Were they?”

Halak’s jaw firmed. “No. But just because I know that intellectuallydoesn’t mean that others might not view it that way. I had my reasons for wanting a transfer. Captain Connors agreed with them.”

“Well, wedon’t know what they were. Why don’t you tell us?”

Garrett said, “This is going somewhere, Burke.” Not asking.

“Yes, Captain, it is.”

“Well, instead of beating around the bush, why don’t you tie it up for me?”

“Of course, Captain. The tie-in is this: red ice.”

“Red ice?” Garrett scowled. “I’m not following you, Lieutenant.”

“Captain, we all know that both the Orion Syndicate and the Asfar Qatala are vying for control of distribution of red ice. We know that both crime syndicates are based on Farius Prime. It is also a fact that Commander Halak’s ostensible mission to Ryn III was to make contact with a middleman for the Orion Syndicate.”

“Captain,” said Halak.

Garrett held up a hand to stop him. “Burke, you’re not telling me something I don’t already know. This is a command concern. I knew about this when Halak requested a transfer; I knew about his mission to Ryn III, and I knew he’d been asked to investigate red ice distribution. So just what, exactly, are you suggesting? That Commander Halak’s previous encounter with the Ryns explains this? Ties in?”

Burke clasped her hands together. “Yes. Commander Halak’s primary goal was not to visit some old family friend. She’s another lie in a string of lies. But red ice is real, and I believe that Commander Halak did his job on Ryn III very well. I believe that he made contact with the Orion Syndicate on Ryn III; that he made a deal….”

Halak was up and out of his seat. “That’s not true!” He brought his fist down on the table. “That is nottrue!”

Burke talked over him. “And that Commander Halak’s involvement became known to the Asfar Qatala, and they moved to eliminate the competition.”

“That’s a lie!I’ve made my report,” Halak said. “I had nothing more to do with the Syndicate once I left Ryn III! Whatever you think you’ve found, it’s all a lie! It’s a plantand…!” His mouth clamped shut, as if he’d realized he made a mistake.

“A plant?” Burke leveled her brown gaze. “How do you know I’ve foundanything, Commander?”

“I…I don’t know. I just said that. I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

“Halak,” said Garrett. She didn’t know where this was going, but she knew, instinctively, there was more here than Halak was at liberty to say. Or defend against. No matter what his guilt—no matter if she believed in him or not—she had to keep him from making things worse. “Halak, stop.”

“Commander,” said Tyvan. “Listen to the captain. You need…”

“Don’t tell me what I need!” Halak’s face contorted with fury. “You’re not the one she’s accusing. You don’t knowwhat I need!”

“Well, I doknow!” Garrett’s voice was like the snap of a whip. “Settle down, mister! That’s an order!”

“Captain,” Halak began. He stopped, closed his eyes. He gripped the edge of the table so hard, his knuckles turned white. “Captain, please.You’re going to sit there and listen to her lies?”

“As opposed to yours? Have you given us any choice, Halak?”

Halak opened his mouth. Shut it. His legs folded, and he dropped back into his seat.

After a moment’s silence, Garrett said, “Burke, you’ve got proof?”

Burke had watched the exchange without comment. “Yes.”

Garrett heard Halak’s sharp intake of breath. She kept her attention focused on Burke. “You can produce it?”

“Yes.”

“Any objection if we let Halak tell his side of things?”

Burke spread her hands. “Absolutely none.”

“Good.” Garrett turned to Halak. “Let’s hear it, Commander. The ball’s in your court.”

She added a silent emendation: Play it wisely.

Chapter 19

“There’s the perimeter beacon dead ahead,” Halak said. He was in the front seat, passenger’s side, and pointed through a spray of sleet pattering against the landskimmer’s windscreen.

“I see it,” said Strong, who was driving. He ratcheted up the landskimmer’s speed another twenty kilometers. The tiny craft shivered as the engine kicked in.

Halak heard the Doppler rise and fall of the beacon, and then their craft’s ping of acknowledgement. The beacon was a blur as they whizzed past. On instinct, he glanced up, scanning the underbellies of a layer of gunmetal gray clouds. No air patrols. Yet.

As if reading his thoughts, Strong said, “Now they come after us. Soon as they figure out the skimmer’s stolen.”

“Well, I think we outran them,” said Thex, his blue antennae wiggling with agitation. Using his forearm to swab away condensation that had fogged the chilled glass of the rear windscreen, Thex squinted. “I don’t see anyone.”

“Don’t count them out.” Halak’s teeth grated. The squeaky sound of fabric on glass set them on edge. “How much further, Strong?”

“Twenty kilometers, Commander.”

“That’s pretty far.”

“It was the best I could do. I didn’t want the city sensor grid picking up on our re-entry trail.”

“I know, I know.” Halak fidgeted. Watched as the scenery scrolled beneath them. Once away from the coast, the terrain on Ryn III turned arid, the vegetation brown and sparse, dotting craggy hills scored by arroyos.

Halak dug his nails into a week’s worth of beard glazing his jaw and jowls and gave himself a good scratch. His nails rasped over stubble. Good God, but he’d be glad to get back to the Barker.First thing he’d do was stand under a steaming hot shower– realwater—for a half hour (he didn’t care if he used up his allotment for the week) and then a shave. (Starfleet Intelligence thought they had to look the part of mercenaries down on their luck. So, the ratty clothing, the beards—all except Thex, whose cheeks were baby-smooth.)

He was antsy. Halak never hadliked landskimmers. In the air, he could turn and fight. Air was like space: three-dimensional. Traveling a scant seven meters above the surface, with no room to really maneuver, made him anxious. Halak dug into his beard again, for want of anything better to do. “Just feels too far away. You’ve got a fix on the shuttle?”

“Shuttle telemetry’s coming in loud and clear. Lucky I didn’t crack her up, getting her out of parked lunar orbit and piloting via remote. She landed okay, though.”

“Good,” said Halak, knowing their situation was anything but. Having the unmarked, unregistered shuttle touch down without incident was about the only bright spot. He blew out a breath. He was sweating like a pig, partly from heat, the rest from nerves. He shrugged out of his khaki-colored jacket. Beneath the jacket, he wore Marassian wool pants and a throck-haired shirt: local civilian dress. They’d arrived in the middle of the local spring. The weather was like San Francisco in winter—brisk, cold, with a strong wind coming in off the water and smacking you in the face like an icy fist, and gushers of sleety rain that got dumped by heavy gray clouds every afternoon. But the landskimmer was small, warm, and close with the overripe odor of men’s sweat. Rivulets of perspiration dribbled from Halak’s armpits and crawled over his ribs. Reaching forward, Halak fiddled with a vent, angling cool air into his face.

Strong said, “Setting the shuttle down at the edge of town was too risky.”

“Yeah,” said Halak, without enthusiasm. He felt moisture evanescing from his neck, and his shoulders jerked with an involuntary shiver. He sopped the back of his neck with his sleeve. “Still too far away.”

“We’ll make it.”

Thex piped up from the back seat. “What I wouldn’t give for an emergency beam-out to the Barker,sir.”

Halak grunted an assent. “No cavalry this time around. We’re on our own until we clear Ryn space.”

“Plausible deniability,” said Strong, making it sound like something obscene. He depressed the throttle, trying to get more speed out of the skimmer. The vehicle lurched and shuddered. “Hope Starfleet Intelligence is happy.”

“Ease off before we come apart,” said Halak.

“Aye, sir,” Strong said. He sucked air then let it out in a long exhalation. “Sorry. It’s just, well, damn it, it seems stupidto have taken this many risks and come away with so little. Waste of time, putting our necks on the line. Felt really close, you know? Like we’re so close to getting something useful on the Syndicate, then our cover gets blown.”

Halak didn’t respond. Strong was right. Ten days wasted, and nothing to show. Hell, they’d be lucky to get off the planet. The ostensible mission had been as deceptively simple as it had been dangerous. Ryn III was one of the Asfar Qatala’s distribution hubs for red ice. The Orion Syndicate was also involved, but Starfleet was still amassing intel on them. Red ice was a secondary concern. The primary goal was to get information on how the Syndicate was currently set up, how it’s network functioned, who controlled what. Follow the money. So, their mission: Pose as independent mercenaries, vie for a piece of the distribution pie, make contact with an operative in the Orion Syndicate. Get the information, and then get the heck off the planet.

The rationale for a trio was also deceptively simple. Three people were, in theory, harder to keep track of than two. If one of them were suspected of being an SI plant, this would take the focus off the other two. At least, that’s what Starfleet Intelligence explained to Thex and Strong. Regrettably, this might lead to one of them being eliminated—SI-speak for very dead.But no one had forced Thex and Strong to volunteer. What SI didn’t bother explaining was that it was also easier for one of them to peel off from the other two and do another mission—the realmission—on the side, without the other two being involved. That’s the rationale that SI—and specifically Commander Marta Batanides—had offered about why Halak, in particular, should volunteer.

Halak didn’t want the mission. He also couldn’t refuse, not when Batanides did an end-around and asked him, again, in front of Captain Connors—not without arousing suspicion. Not without making someone want to take a much closer look at Samir al-Halak, maybe pick apart his past just a teensy bit more. So Halak was stuck. On the one hand, he couldn’t risk SI nosing around more than Batanides, maybe, already had. On the other, he couldn’t risk anyone from the Qatala—or the Syndicate—drawing a bead. True, he’d been a much younger man when he’d had any dealings with either organization. A boy, really: The last time he’d been on Farius Prime he’d been clean-shaven and about ten kilos lighter. Still.

Angling the landskimmer into a narrow valley formed by the cleft of two deep arroyos, Strong said, “I still don’t understand how that happened, sir. The only time all three of us have been in the same room was when we were each trying to outbid the other. We took different rooms, never crossed paths. Secured channels on our communicators so we didn’t even have to meet. Doesn’t make sense they could have figured out who we are, you ask me. Hey, Thex,” Strong angled his head up, talking to the roof, “how did you say they made us?”

“All I know is we were set up for a meet today with the Syndicate representatives. So I’m at the bar, waiting.”

Halak half-turned. “And?”

“Two men—a Ryn and a Naiad—were gossiping with a waitress about how they’d heard there were Starfleet people nosing around about the Syndicate. The waitress dismissed it. Said they didn’t know what they were talking about, that she’dheard the Syndicate hadn’t made the Starfleet people at all, but the Qatalahad. Said there were three of them and that a Qatala man, one of the old-timers, recognized one of them.”

Halak felt his stomach bottom out. Damn, damn.Someone had recognized him. That was the only explanation. And he’d been so close…

“Couldn’t be one of us,” said Strong. His brows mated over the bridge of his nose. “We haven’t had anything to do with the Qatala, just the Syndicate guys. Unless Starfleet Intelligence decided to keep an eye on us, and one of them got made. They do that, you know: spies spying on spies. Anyway, it couldn’t have been us, Thex. You heard wrong.”

“My hearing was perfect,” said Thex. “Isperfect.”

No. Halak chewed on the soft inner flesh of his cheek. Thex hadn’t been wrong; he just didn’t know. Neither did Strong. None of this was about red ice. Marta Batanides had been very clear about Halak’s real mission, one that even Connors didn’t know because if something went wrong, only Halak—and not Starfleet—would take the fall.

This was all about the Cardassians.

The facts. The Cardassians had been on a massive expansion kick for the last decade, from their failed attempt to claim Legara IV in 2327 and their annexation of Bajor in ’28 to their current wrangling with the Klingon Empire for Raknal V. They’d been expanding, flexing their muscles by conquering smaller, non-Federation worlds nudging the border. There was every reason to believe that the Cardassians wouldn’t stop there. But, in order to take on the Federation, the Cardassians needed more and better weapons.

Fact: The Breen made weapons. Good weapons, advanced weapons, such as type-3 disruptors. SI operatives had reports of Breen weapons turning up on Ryn III, probably bound for Cardassia. No one knew for sure.

Fact: well, a rumor, really. The buzz was that the Breen had developed cloaking technology superior to the Klingons. Bad enough. But there were also rumors swirling around that the Breen had succeeded in testing out prototypes of a new weapon designed to dissipate focused phased energy. The upshot? More energy discharge per volley, with greater range and less dissipated radiant energy than current Starfleet technology. Translation: more bang for the buck, and without a lot of spare change.

Fact: The Breen hated dealing with other species, period. The Breen were nonaligned. They were secretive, isolated. Duplicitous. Betazoids couldn’t get a read on them, and the Breen shielded their bodies in refrigerated encounter suits that duplicated the ambient conditions of their frozen waste of a homeworld. One might have been tempted to call them cold-blooded but for the belief that the Breen didn’t have a drop of blood, of any color or description, flowing in their nonexistent veins.

Fact: Profit was profit. If the Breen were going to get at Cardassian wealth, they’d need a middleman.

And that’s where the Syndicate came in. The likely scenario was that the Syndicate provided the Breen with runners and pilots who would do the work, for a very hefty fee, of ferrying weapons bound for Cardassia. In turn, the Syndicate would make sure that any dealings were the Breen were one step removed.

And that’s where Halak came in. Pose as a freelancer. Make contact with a dealer who needed a ship to transport Breen materiel into Cardassian space. Figure out to whom the dealer reported—the Syndicate, or the Qatala—and then get a read on the weapons distribution hierarchy.