Текст книги "Days of the Vipers"

Автор книги: James Swallow

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“I don’t like that man,” she told her father. “I don’t think you should talk to him.”

“You’re right,” he replied. “Come on. Let’s get out of this place.”

The transmission was authentic, and the fact that it had been sent without her authority made Lonnic Tomo furious. She gripped the padd in her hand and strode swiftly down the corridors of the keep; the hard manner she displayed made certain that none of the other staffers dared to stand in her path or waylay her. Lonnic tore open the door to Jas Holza’s chamber, an accusation on her lips; but instead she saw something that made her fury jump tenfold. Kubus Oak was sitting on the ornamental couch by the window, helping himself to a generous glass of springwine.

He sniffed. “Doesn’t your adjutant knock before she enters a room, Holza?”

Lonnic glared at her employer, who seemed thin and tired, pressed into the depths of the chair behind his desk. The surface of Jas’s workspace, what had once been such a model of efficiency and care, was now a mess of padds, printout flimsies, and other detritus. It mirrored the man’s manner these days, untidy and directionless.

“Tomo,” said the minister, “I’m in conference. Can this wait until later?”

“No, sir, it cannot,” she replied, gathering back her momentum. She ignored Kubus and stepped forward, placing the padd down on the cluttered desk with a snap. “This communiqué was in the comm traffic stack. A signal to the commanders of two of the clan’s scoutships.”

Jas didn’t look at the padd. “I know what it says, Tomo. I wrote it.”

“Did you?” she asked, shooting a look at Kubus, the question slipping out before she could halt herself. For a brief moment, Lonnic saw a flash of the old Jas Holza, irritated by her inference; but then it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. With a nearly physical effort, she clamped down on her emotions and took a breath. “Sir, why didn’t you consult me on this? In my opinion, this is a serious misstep—”

Kubus made a bored noise. “Is it necessary for a minister of the Chamber to ask the opinion of his adjutant on every single matter? Do you pass your eye over every communiqué, over every little bit of text?”

Lonnic kept her gaze on Jas but answered Kubus. “This is hardly a minor matter, sir. It bears further scrutiny!”

Jas looked away. “It’s done, Tomo. It’s what was necessary.”

Necessary.The word echoed in her thoughts. The contents of the communiqué were a terse set of orders for the best-equipped scout vessels in service to the Jas clan’s prospector fleet, giving them the coordinates for a rendezvous a few light-years distant from Bajor. The two ships were to meet with two more vessels, a pair of heavy assault ships from the Space Guard under the command of Li Tarka. Their mission was to scour all the star systems within a globular search perimeter for any signs of Tzenkethi raiders, utilizing the powerful Cardassian-made sensor gear mounted on the prospector ships. Jas had ordered his own civilian crews to join a reprisal fleet.

Kubus sipped the wine. “We cannot let the Cemba incident go unanswered. It was our failure that allowed these good people—”

Lonnic rounded on him, interrupting. “Yes, Minister, I’ve already heard that speech once today. I saw the newsfeed.”

“Then you understand the seriousness of the situation.”

“What I understand—”She stopped; she was on the verge of shouting. With a breath, Lonnic moderated herself and started again. “What I understand is that your rhetoric, Minister, has pressed the council into making a rash and ill-considered decision!”

Kubus arched an eyebrow. “Is that right? The First Minister seems to think otherwise, as does General Coldri.”

“Coldri’s a pragmatist. He’s only going along with this because you’ve left him with no choice,” she retorted. “If he disagrees, he will look weak in the eyes of the public.” Lonnic stiffened. “You’re expecting civilians to go out looking for a fight, against an enemy that we’re not even sure was responsible!” She glared at Jas. “And you’re letting him do it.”

Kubus put down the glass. “Of course the Tzenkethi are responsible! Oh, I don’t doubt the Coalition will deny it to the hilt, but we know their kind, and so do the Cardassians! They’re animals…Force, swiftly applied, is all they understand.” He sat back. “We will show the flag, let them know Bajor is not a soft target for their picking. Colonel Li is a fine soldier. He won’t shrink from this.”

Lonnic shook her head. “I cannot believe what I am hearing. What happened to due process, to a court of law? Are we just leaping to revenge? Is that how we make government on Bajor in this day and age?” Her hands contracted into fists. “This isn’t the Era of Republics anymore, Minister Kubus! We’re not city-states warring against each other with swords and bows, swearing pacts or vendettas over the smallest slights! We’ve grown beyond that!”

The other man shook his head and glanced at Jas. “Holza, how can you manage with such a naïve woman on your staff?” Kubus looked back at Lonnic. “You’re a fool if you think that Bajor has lost the taste for retribution. We may be sophisticated and civilized, but so were we ten millennia ago, and we knew then as I know now, blood can only be paid in blood!”

“I don’t agree,” she bit out. Lonnic could feel the moment slipping away from her. She felt as if the floor beneath her feet were turning thick and muddy, swallowing her up. She had no purchase here, nothing to grab on to. It’s done.Jas’s words resonated in her mind.

“I’m sorry, Tomo,” said Jas flatly, “but I am in agreement with Oak. My order stands. It…it is for the best.”

Lonnic’s hands came together and for a moment she lost focus. He was right; there was nothing she could do now to stop Kubus working Jas as his proxy. She cursed silently. This is my fault,Lonnic told herself. I saw this coming and I didn’t do enough to stop it. Now it’s out of my control.She glanced at her employer and saw Jas for what he had truly become: a puppet, the pawn of a man with a stronger will and a longer view. Tomo had hoped for so long that Jas would one day show the character that she knew he had deep inside, that he would step out of the long shadow cast by his late father. But instead, he had slipped back the other way, retreating under the coattails of the charismatic and strong-willed Kubus, taking the easy path.

I can’t do anything here.The words formed in her thoughts, and against the dejection she felt a sudden flare of hope. “I can’t do anything here,” she said. “That’s clear to me now. But I can serve a purpose out there.”

Jas’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“The fleet,” she replied. “Those scoutships represent an important part of the Jas clan’s holdings. Someone should be with Colonel Li’s flotilla to oversee our interests.” And perhaps,she thought, I can prevent a shooting war.

“No,” said Jas. “It’s too risky. Send someone else.”

“It would communicate an important message,” Kubus offered. “Lonnic Tomo, a ranking member of the Korto District governmental body. It would show the seriousness of our intent.” The minister was clearly content with the idea of having Lonnic and her dissenting voice out of the way.

Jas shook his head. “No,” he repeated, and there was an element of dread in his voice. “You’ll be going directly in harm’s way, and I won’t have that. What if something happened to you? I don’t…I don’t want you to be hurt.” The minister trailed off, embarrassed by his own reaction.

She picked up the padd and drew herself up to her full height, for the moment ignoring the fact that Kubus was in the room with them. “I’m doing this, Holza,” Tomo told him. “I need to do some good.” She turned and glanced at Kubus before walking out of the room. “I can’t do it here.”

Bennek looked up at the knock on his door. The evening had become a blur; he was still caught in the emotional backwash of the funeral ceremony, and even the ride back to the enclave outside the city had swept past him in a haze of sadness. He held pages from his copy of the Hebitian Records in his hands, his fingers tracing the careworn edges of the aged brangwa-hide scrolls, but his eyes were unfocused, not really reading the words in the tight old script of his ancestors. He knew the texts so well that he had no need to look at them—he could speak them by heart—but to hold the pages gave him some degree of peace, of connection to his faith.

The cleric wanted that so desperately now, but it did not come. He felt adrift, unable to voice his feelings to the others; and Pasir seemed to always be elsewhere, off to the embassy in Dahkur or back in orbit on errands.

The knock came again. It was hesitant. With a bone-deep sigh, Bennek climbed out of his wicker chair, crossed the warm confines of his room in the blockhouse, and opened the door.

Outside there was a Bajoran woman, cast slightly in shadow by the setting rays of B’hava’el. He saw immediately from her posture that she was cheerless; there was a kind of gentle vulnerability that radiated from her in waves. “Bennek?” She spoke his name with reverence.

The voice sparked recognition in him. “Tima?”

“Can I come in?” she asked. “I came out from Korto…I wanted to see you.”

“Of course.” He opened the door wider and allowed the woman inside. “Can I get you something?” Bennek gestured to a chair and she sat.

“Water?”

He nodded and poured them both glasses from the seal-jug on his desk. The cleric was hesitant. Bennek was unprepared for the girl’s unannounced arrival. She ran a hand through her blond hair and blinked. He could see her better now, and he noticed the shimmer in her striking green eyes. She’d been crying, and he felt a stab of guilt, as if he had been the cause of it.

“Are you well?” he asked. There was the slightest tracery of a scar just below her hairline on her temple, where she had been injured on board the Cemba platform.

Tima nodded. “The doctors told me there will be no lasting damage.” She gave a shallow sigh. “I never really thanked you for what you did on the station,” she began.

She had been terrified; Bennek had offered her words of comfort. He shook his head. “I did only what Oralius asks of all of us, to care for our fellow beings.”

She looked at the floor. “I was so scared, and I…I didn’t want to say anything in front of Vedek Arin…. I couldn’t…”

She confided in me because I am an alien,he thought. Because she knew I would not judge her for being afraid.

“You are a good man,” she continued. “I wanted to tell you that.”

Her words made him hesitate. “I…Thank you, Tima.” Bennek watched the Bajoran girl, drawn to her face. She was so delicate, the straw-colored hair about her head falling in golden lines, the blush on her flawless cheeks like a piece of living artwork. He recalled his first impressions of the Bajoran females he had seen years ago in the Naghai Keep. Like the desert nymphs of mythology.

“What you said today, in the gardens.” She swallowed.

“Bennek, your words moved me in a way that I’ve never felt before. You were so honest, so truthful.” Her hand fell upon his, and it was warm. “But you’re so lonely.”

“I…” He tried to find a response, but her statement disarmed him with its simple directness.

“I can see it in you.” Tima nodded. “Even across the gulf of our species, I can see it. You’re vulnerable and alone. You are surrounded by companions, but there’s not one of them you can confide in. I feel so sorry for you. I want to help.”

How can she know me so well?It was a shock for the cleric to realize the woman could intuit his thoughts and feelings. And she’s right. Hadlo is far from here, and his mind is ranging still further. Pasir and the others, they are so earnest but so distant from me. But this one…She is here with me now. In all ways.

“I want to learn from you,” Tima said carefully. “Tell me of Oralius and the Way, tell me how she touches the path of the Prophets.”

He nodded. “I will, if that is what you wish.” He reached for the scrolls, but Tima stopped him.

“But not now. Will you let me give you something first?”

“Yes.” His throat turned to sand.

Tima’s hands came to his cheeks and his to hers. She was warm, warm all over, her body like the orange sunlight of his homeworld. Bennek’s eyes closed, and he tasted cool water on her lips.

13

The sky above the port was unusually clear. Launch platforms that normally echoed with liftoffs and landings were quiet, with almost every ship in service in operation offplanet. The only activity was from the ground crews, working at fuel stations or maintenance carts, waiting for the return of the civilian ships that the emergency bureau had pressed into disaster management duties. They had to work at keeping turnaround times to a minimum, so that low-duration ships could spend as little time as possible on the ground and the maximum in orbit clearing the debris. The shock wave from the explosion of the Lhemorhad ripped parts of Cemba Station and the other ships at dock into a cloud of hull fragments and wreckage; for the past few nights everyone on Bajor’s northern continent had been treated to skies streaked with shooting stars as the smaller sections burned up in the atmosphere. But there were larger, more lethal pieces up there, some leaking toxic material, some dense enough that they would strike down a city if they fell on a populated area. The crews in orbit were working around the clock to neutralize the threats. Darrah looked up into the blue sky, wondering where Syjin was at that moment, what the itinerant pilot was doing to keep his planet safe.

Darrah had managed to catch a few words with the captain of a cargo lighter down from the lunar colony on Derna. Darrah wasn’t there to ask after the progress of the cleanup; he wanted to know about the Lhemor.

Since the funeral ceremony, sleep had become harder to find. While Karys dozed fitfully beside him, Mace stared at the ceiling, trying to distill the churn of thoughts in his mind into some kind of order. Kubus’s rhetoric and the circumstances of the explosion lay on him like a lead weight. Every moment his thoughts drifted from what was at hand, and he found himself thinking back through the desperate hours on Cemba. He struggled to recall every moment of his time up there on the docking platform. Had he seen something that hadn’t registered at the time? Someone suspicious? Something that rang a wrong note? Like all the other survivors, he had given a detailed statement to the Space Guard, but he couldn’t shake a sense that what he’d told them was somehow incomplete.

Try as he might, there was nothing that came to mind, and that disturbed Darrah Mace most of all. The Cardassians said that the charge that claimed the Lhemorhad been placed on board the freighter after it left their star system, and since the ship had been at high warp all that time, the only time a bomb could have been planted was upon arrival in Bajor orbit. But Darrah was sure of one thing. He’d watched the hatches to the freighter open, seen the docking tube extending. No one had entered, and only the Oralians had left. He had come to be sure of that at least. His attempts to follow through on his suspicions were getting him nowhere, however. The Cardassians had been the first on the scene, and ships under the control of Jagul Kell had swiftly tractored away anything that remained of the Lhemor’s structure, claiming it under diplomatic auspices. Now the inspector was here, hoping to find some clue from the men and women who were working up there amid what amounted to the planet’s largest crime scene—perhaps some report of an unusual sensor reading, or a piece of the Lhemorthe Cardassians had missed. But so far, nothing.

Darrah’s hands knitted together. Suspicion prickled the flesh on the back of his neck as if it were a physical presence. It came down to a simple equation in back of the lawman’s thoughts. Something isn’t right here, and I need to know why.

The mutter of conversation from one of the hangars drew his attention, and Darrah’s eyes narrowed at the sight of a Cardassian speaking with one of the ground technicians. Darrah had spoken to the tech earlier; the woman was on the crew of a heavy impulse tug that usually worked the plasma trawlers from the Denorios Belt. Her words became clearer as he approached.

“I can’t help you,” the woman said sharply. “I don’t make the rules, I’m just duty chief on the ground. You want passage, you need to speak to the pilots and captains, and they’re all up there.” She jerked a thumb at the sky. “So unless you want to wait for the next ship down for tanking, you might as well go back to your enclave.” The Cardassian man—Darrah saw now that the alien was one of their civilian types, without the robes of an Oralian or the duty armor of a military officer—made to say something, but the tech cut him off. “Besides, you got enough of your own damn ships in orbit, don’t you? Why can’t you hitch a ride with one of them?” She walked away, ending any chance at further conversation.

The Cardassian turned, frustration on his face, but the expression swiftly changed to alarm as he caught sight of the law enforcer. His eyes darted left-right, as if he were looking for an escape route.

“Are you lost?” offered Darrah. He nodded in the direction of the flyer pads out toward the far end of the port compound. “These are the yards for the interstellar and orbital ships. Atmospheric flyers are over there.”

“I…I don’t require a flyer,” came the hesitant reply.

Darrah studied the alien and a name came to him. “Pa’Dar. You’re the scientist. I saw you with Kell in Ashalla.”

He got a nod in return. “That is correct. And you are Inspector Darrah, yes?”

“What are you doing here, Mr. Pa’Dar?”

The alien shifted uncomfortably. “I should be going, I think…”

“I’m asking because I have your best interests in mind.” Darrah slipped easily into his default manner for addressing suspects. “There are a lot of upset people in the city. People who blame Cardassians for what happened in orbit.”

“It wasn’t our fault,” Pa’Dar replied, but Darrah saw that the response was something automatic for him. He didn’t believe it. After this long working alongside the aliens, he knew them well enough to read the cues of their body language as well as any Bajorans. It was one of the skills that made him a good police officer.

“Why don’t you tell me why you want to go offworld.” Darrah closed the distance between them, making their conversation more intimate, less open. “And why you want to do it without your superiors knowing.”

Pa’Dar schooled his expression, realizing too late that he’d given away something of himself. “The Union’s ships are otherwise engaged, and I merely wanted to see the site for myself.”

A lie.Darrah knew it immediately. He decided to take a chance. Based on what he knew of the Cardassians, their culture was stratified into those in service to the military, the government, and the civilian populace. Each was looked down upon by the group above theirs, and Darrah had no doubt that as a scientist, Pa’Dar was used to being beleaguered by Kell’s men. “Your Central Command hasn’t been very open with its findings, despite what you said in Ashalla.”

There was a flash of understanding in Pa’Dar’s eyes, and Darrah smiled inwardly. He doesn’t trust the answers he’s been given, just like me.

“There’s no error in making a secondary evaluation,” came the reply. “It’s my job to take a closer look at things,” he concluded.

“Mine too,” added Darrah.

Pa’Dar stepped away. “I think I should follow the suggestion I was given and return to the enclave. I do not believe I will be able to do more here.” He inclined his head, his disappointment clearly evident. “Until we meet again, Inspector Darrah.”

“Mr. Pa’Dar. Perhaps when that happens, we might find something more to talk about.”

“Such as?”

“Call it common interests.” For a moment, Darrah considered holding him, but what reason could he have given? He watched the alien thread his way toward the flyers.

Behind him, the chatter of the ground crew picked up and Darrah turned to see them break into motion. It was a sure sign that a ship was coming down, and within moments he saw a dot leading a white contrail out of the sky. It was an oval shuttlecraft with stubby winglets, the kind of short-range impulse ship that plied the spacelanes inside the B’hava’el system. Darrah watched the craft land, noting the symbol on the hull; the ship was one of a few auxiliaries in the service of the clergy, and as such it was exempt from the authority of the emergency bureau. When the embarkation ramp hit the apron, the third man out of the hatch was Gar Osen, gathering his robes in a fist to keep them from flapping in the wind generated by the idling thrusters.

Gar saw Darrah and waved to him. “Come to meet me?” The priest meant the words in jest, but the lawman detected a definite edge of weariness.

Darrah shook his head. “Just passing through.” He glanced over Gar’s shoulder. “Is the Kai with you?”

Gar’s expression saddened. “No. No, Vedek Arin had the pilot take us down over the sea first, so we could take Her Eminence back to the retreat at Calash.”

“Where have you been?”

“Derna,” said the ranjen, indicating the sky. Bajor’s fourth moon was just visible, peeking slightly over the horizon. “A dedication ceremony, nothing more, but the kai insisted on joining us. I wish she had not.”

Darrah nodded. “She’s no better, then?”

“Meressa says the Prophets are testing her,” Gar said in a fatigued voice, “that they are testing all of us. She refuses to be sidelined, as much as Arin would wish it.”

The lawman said nothing. He had known a friend of his father’s who had died from Yerrin syndrome. The old man had not gone easily, lingering for years with the pain as his own blood slowly turned to poison in his veins.

Gar sighed. “Let’s talk of other things. Have you spoken to Tomo recently? She didn’t come to services this week, and she’s seemed more distant than usual.”

Darrah blinked. “You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what? I’ve been on Derna for the last three days. It’s a bit rural up there.”

“Of course…” He took a breath. “Osen, she’s gone. She joined the task force going out to look for signs of the Tzenkethi.”

“What?” Gar blinked in surprise. “What could she hope to do there?”

“I’m not sure,” Darrah admitted, “but when we last spoke she was agitated by something. She told me that she could make a difference if she went with them.”

The priest frowned. “Well. I’ll say a prayer in her name, then.” He sighed. “It makes me sad to say it, but Vedek Arin was one of those who supported Kubus’s petition for the fleet’s mission. I find some very unpleasant commonalities in the interests of those two men.”

Darrah patted his friend on the shoulder and leaned in. “There are more who agree with Kubus than those who don’t, especially here in Korto.” He kept his voice low so that it wouldn’t carry far. “All the events of recent days, the Cemba incident and the deaths. I can’t shake the feeling that something more is going on. Something hidden from us.”

Gar’s eyes widened. “I will admit…I too have had some concerns of late. But is there any evidence? You’re a lawman, Mace. You know what’s needed.”

He nodded again. “You’re not saying anything that hasn’t occurred to me already, believe me.” Darrah’s chrono pinged suddenly and he shot a glance at it; the alarm was warning him that he had a staff meeting back at the precinct. “I have to go. Look, we’ll talk some more about this later. In the meantime, just…keep your eyes and ears open, eh?”

Gar nodded once. “A priest always listens. It’s one of the things we do best.”

Gar watched his friend go before following the rest of the group toward the flyer bays. He drew into himself, thinking on Darrah’s words. Mace was always a suspicious soul, that had been true for his entire life, and in his line of work, it fulfilled a function that did the community good. For Gar, it did not come so easily. He had joined the priesthood because he believed in the fundamental good in people, but what good could there be in those who had caused such a horror as the bombing of the Lhemor?The Oralians were a decent, honest group of souls who came with genuine reverence and honor for the Bajoran faith. Since that night in the library of the Naghai Keep, he had learned much of their Way and of the parallels it shared with the worship of the Celestial Temple. It made him feel sick inside to contemplate that serpents with hate in their hearts might lurk among them.

“Brother Gar!” He turned at the sound of his name and halted in surprise. In his pastel robes, the Cardassian cleric Pasir was crossing the landing pad toward him.

He bobbed his head in greeting. The Oralian priest’s usual open smile was absent. Pasir seemed muted, and he kept glancing around as if he were afraid of being seen by someone.

“Gar,” he said, coming close. “I am so pleased I found you. I’ve been looking for you for days, but I heard you were offplanet.”

“I was on Derna.”

Pasir nodded. “Yes, I know. I had nowhere else to turn. I did not want to chance speaking to anyone else.”

The Cardassian was afraid. Gar scanned the alleys between the hangars for any sign that Darrah could still be around, but he saw none. One of the prylars from the shuttle threw him a look from the hatch of the skimmer that was to take them back to Kendra. Gar glanced back at Pasir and saw the pleading on his face. “Go on ahead without me,” he called out. “I’ll get a flyer and follow you.” The prylar nodded and shut the hatch behind him. The skimmer took off, leaving Gar and Pasir alone.

“Thank you, Ranjen, thank you.” Pasir gripped Gar’s arm. “You have no idea how important this is.”

Gar studied the alien, thinking of his parting words to Mace. The Cardassian wanted him to listen, and he found he wanted to know what the Oralian had to tell him.

“There’s something I have to show to you,” said Pasir.

“Something terrible, something that threatens both our faiths.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “I am being coerced, brother. Men with huge and frightening plans hold sway over me, and I cannot let it go on any longer. I must confess.” The alien’s eyes were filled with desperation. “Will you help me?”

“Pasir,” Gar began. “If you are afraid for your life, I can see you safe. Inspector Darrah Mace of the City Watch is a close personal friend, and I—”

“No! No one else!” hissed the cleric. “You’re the only one I can trust, Osen. The only one I know that is untouched by the stain of the Obsidian Order. Spies and liars, all of them. They caused the Lhemorto be destroyed. They are the root of the danger.” His fingers tightened on Gar’s arm. “Please, just come with me.”

At last Gar gave a slow nod. “All right. Lead the way, and I will listen.”

The door to Kell’s private office closed behind Dukat with a faint thud of magnetic bolts, and at the edge of his hearing he picked up the whine of a broad-spectrum jamming array. Even here, in the heart of the Union embassy, the jagul was taking no chances that his security would be compromised.

Dukat felt ambivalent with an empty holster at his side; the guard at the turbolift had taken the dal’s weapon and placed it in safekeeping. Although he still had a push-dagger secreted in the sleeve of his uniform, something about having the capacity to disintegrate Danig Kell where he stood always made Dukat feel more comfortable in the man’s presence.

Kell made a steeple of his fingers across the top of his desk. “Don’t stand there like a trainee before the commandant, Dukat,” he snapped. “Get over here.”

Dukat didn’t move. Instead, he gave the woman seated before Kell a level stare. “Your summons indicated that this was a meeting of senior officers only. There’s a civilian in the room.”

Rhan Ico arched an eyebrow. “Really, Dalin Dukat, there’s no need for such formality. The jagul and I have been engaging in a very entertaining discussion.”

Ico’s words confirmed what he suspected: Kell’s “meeting” had started much earlier—it was only now that Dukat was being allowed to join them. His lips thinned in a sneer. He was reaching the end of his patience with Kell and the situation on Bajor. He had come to Dahkur seeking a resolution, and in that moment he decided that he would have it. Returning to Cardassia with nothing to show would only serve to reinforce his already ill-starred status with Central Command.

Kell’s face was heavy with anger, and for the first time Dukat guessed that it wasn’t directed at him. As he crossed the room, Dukat saw that the power of the confrontation taking place here did not lay with the jagul; it lay in the hands of the woman. What must she have said to him before I entered?Dukat had a reasonable idea what it might have been.

“I’ve received several intercepts from officers on ships stationed in Bajor orbit,” Kell was terse. “It seems that the Kashaihas been conducting sensor sweeps of the orbital debris zone around the Cemba Station without consent from this embassy. This was done on your orders, Dukat.”

“I don’t deny it,” the dal replied. “I offered the service of my ship and crew to the squadron commander involved in recovery of the Lhemorwreckage. He refused, despite the fact that the Kashaihas a full complement of technical staff currently standing idle.” He paused. “I decided to act on my own authority.”

Ico made a small noise of amusement, but Kell found his words anything but entertaining. “And that, Dal, is why you have so few friends at Command. You show too much temerity. A Cardassian officer follows orders.”

“A Cardassian officer serves his Union,” Dukat retorted.

“How does waiting dead in space do that?” He folded his arms. “It was your intention to marginalize me from the moment I arrived, and now, even in the face of this…this incident,you continue to do so.”

“The tragic circumstances that led to the loss of the Lhemorand the deaths on Cemba Station are under investigation,” Ico added. “They are not your concern, Dal.”

Dukat threw back his head with a bitter bark of laughter. “What do you take me for, woman? Do I look like a simpleton to you? Please don’t insult my intelligence again. Save your lies for the Bajorans.” He bared his teeth. “I think everyone in this room understands what took place on the Lhemor.”