Текст книги "Days of the Vipers"

Автор книги: James Swallow

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 30 страниц)

“A servo-mast for the solar sails,” said Pa’Dar, seeing the question before Dukat asked it. “Some of their smaller vessels appear to carry them as a redundant emergency propulsion system, in case impulse engines fail.”

Dukat looked at his fingers and found a patina of grime there. He brushed the dust from his hands with quick, economical motions. “Quite primitive, really.” He moved around to study the damaged section.

“That’s one way to consider it,” Pa’Dar conceded. “It does strike me as strange that the ship’s systems are less advanced than our own.”

“How so?”

“Their warp drive, their sensors, and other mechanisms, all of them are at least a century behind Cardassian technologies. I doubt this scout was even capable of making transluminal velocities beyond factor two, three at best. When one considers that the Bajorans are such an old culture, one would assume they would possess at least comparable if not superior technology.”

Dukat gave a dry chuckle. “The age of the Bajoran civilization is a matter for debate, so I have been led to understand. After all, we have only their word that they are such an ancient and venerable species…” He glanced at the scientist. “And even if it is true, then what does this tell us?” He tap-tapped on the hull of the Bajoran ship. “They may be hundreds of thousands of years old, but they lag behind the rest of the galaxy, behind younger and more vital cultures like ours. Do you know what that tells me, Kotan?” Pa’Dar shook his head, and Dukat stepped on to the drop-ramp, peering inside. “They’re stagnant. They lack the drive that Cardassia has in ample supply.” He grinned to himself. “By the time the Union’s a hundred thousand years old, we’ll be the lords of the galaxy.”

“Perhaps so,” said the other man, although Dukat could tell he didn’t share his confidence. “The ship’s interior is off-limits,” added Pa’Dar, as Dukat balanced on the edge of the ramp. “On Professor Ico’s orders.”

“I’m only taking an interest,” Dukat replied. Inside, beyond the compartment where the corpses lay, he could see part of the command deck and the mess of shattered consoles up there. There was nothing recognizable as a helm or a navigation station; the impact that had killed the crew had ruined the vessel’s internals completely.

“Do you know how the ship was damaged?” said Pa’Dar. “The data templates I was provided with are rather sparse. It looks like the result of a ground collision, or perhaps a partial failure of structural integrity fields…”

Dukat’s smile thinned. “It’s my understanding it was…an unlucky accident. Fortunate this craft was so near to a Union shipping channel. If not, these poor fools might have drifted about in the void for millennia. Their world would never have known their fate.”

“The lost dead are never truly at rest,” said a new voice, and the two men turned to see a robed figure approaching across the deck. He rolled back his hood, and Dukat found himself looking into an earnest, intense face. “It is a thing of great sadness.”

“Bennek, isn’t it?” Dukat said. “We have not met. I am Dalin Skrain Dukat, first officer of the Kornaire.This is Kotan Pa’Dar, of the Ministry of Science.”

The priest gave them a shallow bow. “If you will pardon me, I have a duty to perform here.”

Pa’Dar pocketed his tricorder, his expression taking on an irritable cast. “Duty? What duty?”

From a large drawstring pouch at his hip the young cleric removed an intricately carved mask of green wood studded with chips of white mica and flat blue stones. “A recitation.” He nodded at the wreck and the corpses aboard it. “For the dead.”

“I don’t understand,” said Dukat. “There are only Bajorans aboard that scoutship. No Cardassians.”

“I know,” Bennek replied, taking the mask and balancing it in his hands before raising it up to his chest in a gesture of benediction. “You may remain if you wish, gentlemen. I would ask only that you stay silent until the rite is concluded.”

Pa’Dar’s stout face quirked in the beginning of a sneer. “I have more important things to do, I believe.” He made no attempt to hide a derisive snort and walked away, leaving Dukat and the priest at the foot of the drop-ramp.

Bennek whispered something under his breath and raised the mask slowly to his face, taking loops of metal from inside it to hook over his ears. Dukat found himself fascinated by the odd ritualistic motions of the young man. It was like some strange form of theater, a dance or a mime. It was quite unreal. “Why do you do this?” he demanded, ignoring the priest’s request for silence. “Why do you care about the bodies of aliens? They don’t follow your creed.”

“Oralius asks us to find paths for all the life we encounter on our journeys.” Bennek’s words had an odd hushed quality to them as they came from behind the mask. “Even if that life is not born of the same earth and sun as we are.” He bowed and began to speak in a slow, rhythmic chant.

“The power that moves through me, animates my life, animates the mask of Oralius. To speak her words with my voice, to think her thoughts with my mind, to feel her love with my heart. It is the song of morning, opening up to life, bringing the truth of her wisdom to those who live in the shadow of the night.” The phrases that fell from the mask’s unmoving lips had the steady pace of a reading performed hundreds of times, words known so well to the priest that he could speak them with perfect recall.

“It is this selfsame power, turned against creation, turned against my friend, that can destroy his body with my hand, reduce his spirit with my hate, separate his presence from my home.” The static aspect bobbed as Bennek nodded to himself. “To live without Oralius, lighting our way to the source, connecting us to the mystery, is to live without the tendrils of love.” He made a gesture across his face. “Let the Way guide these souls to the place of their birth, and know her touch and her friendship.” After a long moment, Bennek bowed to the ship and let the mask fall into his waiting hands.

And this is the Oralian Way?Dukat asked himself. Is this all that they are, speakers of chants and rituals?He studied Bennek and could not help but wonder why Central Command was so set against these religious throwbacks. If this boy was an example of them, then they were nothing to be concerned about. Dukat found it hard to reconcile the man who stood before him with the stories he had been taught in the academy, of Cardassia’s harsh prehistory beneath the twin hammers of religious oppression and savage climate change. Was this open-faced cleric really the last remnant of a creed that had pushed his people to the brink of extinction? Dukat was almost amused by the idea. He studied the youth’s skinny neck and the ridges of cartilage there, far thinner than Dukat’s, without the muscles and ropelike strength born from hard training in the officer corps. He knew with utter certainty he could crush Bennek’s life from him in a heartbeat.

The priest returned his precious mask to its bag, utterly unaware of Dukat’s train of thought. “You have never seen a recitation before?”

“It was quite…diverting.”

For the first time, Dukat saw something like intelligence behind the cleric’s eyes. “I fear you may be patronizing me, Dalin.”

“A fool is condescending to something he does not understand. I belittle only those whom I know to deserve it.”

“And what do you know of the Oralian Way?”

Dukat folded his arms, countering the question with one of his own. “What was the purpose of that ritual? Do you think the Bajorans will thank you for it? Perhaps they may even be angered by your actions, if their dogma calls for some other pattern of behavior.” He nodded to the bodies. “If this were a Bajoran ship and those were Cardassian dead, you would be dishonoring the deceased by speaking over their remains.”

“Oralius sees only life,” Bennek insisted. “Where it came from has no bearing on that fact. Oralius exists above us all. Those who find the path are welcome to walk it, regardless of their origin.”

“That’s no answer,” Dukat replied. “Come, Bennek, I ask you. What value is there to what you have just done? What good are your words, your ‘Way,’ to these alien dead?” He was goading the youth now, interested in seeing what kind of reaction he would engender.

And there in Bennek’s gaze was a flash of anger, a hardening of the jaw. “They are a doorway to the truth, Dalin Dukat. A manner in which we may all better ourselves and seek the common good. The words of Oralius, of the Way, they are a catalyst for the evolution of the living soul!”

At once Dukat saw the passion behind the words. Such a bearing he had often seen before, on the faces of his own men as they went into battle, in the eyes of the heartless tools of the Obsidian Order as they went about their grisly business; and there, in Bennek, was his answer. That’s why Central Command wants these people eradicated. It is their belief that makes them strong.And belief in anything other than the supremacy of the Cardassian Union was not something the masters of Dukat’s world would tolerate.

“I see,” he said carefully.

“Do you?” Bennek said tightly. “I wonder.”

Dukat raised an eyebrow at the temerity in the priest’s tone; but any rejoinder he might have given was forgotten as Kornaire’s shipboard communications channel chimed into life.

“All division leaders and senior officers to operational alert stations,”said the terse female voice of the ship’s computer.

“Arrival in the Bajor system in eleven metrics, mark.”

Lonnic Tomo balled her fist and began slamming it on the door of her patron’s chambers, fast and firm, over and over.

From inside she heard an annoyed grunt. “Enter! Enter!”The voice was clipped. “I know it’s you, Tomo! Get in here!”

She ran an ebony hand over her scalp, the close-cut fuzz of her hair tickling her palm, and then she pushed open the heavy nyawood door and went inside.

Jas Holza was shrugging on a jacket and trying to hold on to a glass of water with his free hand. The minister’s prematurely lined face was flushed with effort, his thinning hair unkempt. He had ordered Lonnic to let him rest until the afternoon, and this was barely the midday. His arrival back from Batal in the early hours of the morning had been a bad sign. The rain still coming down hard from the storm, his flyer had touched down in the courtyard of the Naghai Keep, engine noise echoing against the fusionstone walls of the ancient citadel. But Jas hadn’t debriefed his aide on his return as he usually did after such journeys, just barked at her to go away, telling her to come back the next day.

“What do you want?” he spat, and she knew it was bad. It took a lot to push Jas Holza into a bad mood, but when it did the storm that came after lasted for days. Lonnic wanted to ask about the events of the Batal trip, and she was sure that Jas thought that was why she had roused him; but those matters were of secondary importance now. The minister went to the window and turned the slats, letting in the air as he opened the doors to the balcony outside.

Beyond the narrow, tall windows of his chambers, the citadel gave him an unparalleled view of Korto’s cityscape on the river plain below. The keep had been the ancestral home of the Jas clan since Bajor’s Age of Enlightenment, and the minister’s D’jarraensured that it was his family who had held on to the reins of one of the most fertile and productive districts in all of Kendra Province. But owning land was not the same as managing land, and Jas had less of the required skill that his forefathers had shown.

“Well?” He rounded on her. “Talk to me, Tomo! You’ve dragged me to my feet, you may as well make it worth something!”

“Sir, I have Colonel Li Tarka of the Militia Space Guard and First Minister Verin Kolek waiting on comm channel nine for you. There’s a matter of utmost importance that requires your immediate attention.”

Jas’s ire instantly dissipated. “Verin? Why is he contacting me? The next scheduled council meeting isn’t for days yet.” He blinked. “What do the Space Guard want?”

“It’s about the Eleda,the scoutship?” she prompted. The minister’s brow furrowed, and he orbited his desk, searching for something among the documents there.

“Eleda,”he repeated, dragging the name from the depths of his memory. “One of ours, wasn’t it?” Jas nodded to himself. “Yes. Old Rifin’s son was the captain, wasn’t he?” On Lonnic’s look of agreement he tapped a finger on his lips. “Yes, I remember. Terrible business.”

The Jas clan, in addition to owning land and mercantile concerns across Western Bajor, also ran a relatively successful asteroid prospecting business in the uninhabited systems throughout the sector. There was a small fleet of warp-capable survey ships that earned a decent turnover scanning for valuable ores that the larger belt-mining corporations could exploit. The Eledawas one of those ships, and it had gone missing a few months earlier out toward the Olmerak system. Bajor Traffic Control had declared it missing and presumed lost, and death benefit paperwork to pay off the crew’s dependents was already in the works. The loss of the scout was unfortunate, but not uncommon; asteroid prospectors in the Bajor Sector regularly fell foul of pirates, belligerent Tzenkethi, or just plain bad luck.

The minister worked to make himself look more presentable, taking a seat behind his desk to face the oval wallscreen across the room. “Did someone find the ship? Are the crew still alive?”

He was doing a good job of moderating his earlier bad mood. Lonnic could see her patron was already thinking about rescinding the benefits. “Uh, yes and no, sir. The crew didn’t survive, but someonefound the ship.”

Jas nodded. “I see, Li’s people, was it?” He frowned again. “Olmerak is a bit of a way out for the defense fleet.”

She shook her head. “The Cardassians found the Eleda,sir.” The words sounded just as odd coming out of her mouth as they had when she’d first heard them herself, only a few minutes before she knocked on Jas’s door. “They’ve…come to return it. And the bodies of the dead men.”

The minister blinked, and for a moment his eyes went hazy as his vision turned inward. Lonnic knew that look; Jas Holza was a rather dogged political operator, and while his recent years had not been the most stellar part of his tenure as minister for Korto District, he still had the one skill that all politicians kept sharp—the ability to see an opportunity when it presented itself. He drew himself up and adjusted his collar one last time. “Tomo, put Verin and the colonel through, please. Let’s see what these aliens want, shall we?”

His aide nodded and tapped a control on her belt.

Jas Holza settled on his default neutral expression as the screen activated. The display was split into two live feeds, with Verin on the left and Li on the right. The minister’s eyes were drawn to Li Tarka first, the Militia officer all dark hair and intensity, his ghost-gray uniform stark against the command chair behind him. The colonel’s broadcast was coming directly from the bridge of his flagship, one of the Space Guard’s assault vessels that prowled the edges of the Bajor system. By contrast, Verin Kolek, representative for the Lonar Province and the current First Minister, was a careworn figure who appeared outwardly to resemble a kindly old grandfather. Verin’s aspect, however, belied a sharp mind in a hard man.

The First Minister wasted no time on any preamble. “Holza, there’s an issue at hand that requires your immediate involvement. This ship of yours…”

Jas nodded. “My adjutant has explained the situation to me.”

“Did you have any involvement in this?” Verin demanded.

“I know you’re ambitious, but making overtures to an alien interstellar power on your own authority is unacceptable!”

Jas licked his lips. “First Minister, Colonel Li, please understand I’m as surprised by this turn of events as you are. Believe me, I’ve already listed the Eledaas lost, whereabouts unknown.”

“You may wish to reopen that file,” said Li gruffly.

“As of this moment, my ship is shadowing a Cardassian battle cruiser at the edge of the system. They’ve transmitted detailed scans showing they have your scout and the remains of its crew on board.”

“They want to return them,” added Verin. “To you. Apparently, their technicians were able to recover part of the ship’s database, and they learned you were the Eleda’s owner and patron of the dead men.”

Jas found himself nodding. “That…that is correct.”

Li’s eyes narrowed. “The Cardassians have never done anything like this before, Minister Jas. They’ve always kept to their borders, stayed away from our core worlds. Any dealings we’ve had with them have always been through colonies on the fringes or third parties. The fact that a military starship from the Union has arrived in our home space is…unprecedented.”

The politician smothered a twinge of surprise. He was hearing something in Li Tarka’s voice that he had never heard before– apprehension.For most Bajorans, Jas Holza included, the Cardassians represented just one more aspect of the wide universe out beyond the edges of the Bajor Sector—unknown, alien, potentially dangerous. “Do you think it’s the vanguard of an invasion force?”

Li’s lips thinned. “One vessel wouldn’t pose a threat to us. I have a flotilla of raiders standing off rimward of the Denorios Belt that could be here in moments. We could ash a single cruiser if they made any aggressive moves.”

“And yet,” said the old man, “the Cardassians aren’t known for their spontaneous acts of diplomacy.” He glared at Jas from the viewscreen. “The commander wants to speak with you, because the Eledacrew were your men.”

Jas put his hands flat on the table in front of him and shot a look at Lonnic where the dark-skinned woman stood off to the side. Her face reflected the same concerns that he felt, but he schooled his expression carefully and did not show them. Taking a breath, the minister became aware of how delicate a circumstance he now found himself in. Verin’s annoyance was clearly stemming from the need to bring him into this situation, and he knew that the old man would do whatever he could to discard Jas as soon as the Cardassians had been mollified. Jas’s frequent opposition to Verin’s policies of late and his thinly veiled suggestions that the aged politician should step down had isolated him in Bajor’s political arena. If things had been different, he might have smiled at the discomfort the First Minister was exhibiting, but the matter was too serious to treat lightly.

If the Cardassians were here, coming as galactic neighbors and not at the head of a warfleet, then Jas was being presented with an opportunity that would never come again. With cold certainty, he knew that whatever choice he made in the next few minutes would alter the course of his political career forever. “I’ll talk to them,” he said with a nod.

“Holza,” rumbled the old man, his eyes turning flinty, “be wary. Don’t allow yourself to exceed your remit. Remember, your jurisdiction ends at the boundary of Korto District. Mine encompasses all of Bajor.”

“As you say, First Minister.”

Verin grunted and waved to someone off-screen. The view on Jas’s display shifted to allow a new window to appear; and there were the aliens. “Do I address Minister Jas Holza, patron of the scoutship Eleda?”There were three of them on the screen, the one in the center that spoke, another with a curiously slim face, and the last wearing what seemed like some colorful parody of a penitent’s hooded robes.

Jas had never spoken to a Cardassian before, only seen them in holos or still images. He found he couldn’t look away from the strange knotty lines of musculature around their necks and eyes. “I am he. I understand that I owe you gratitude for your recovery of my property and my employees. On behalf of Korto District and Bajor, I thank you. The families of the men lost aboard the Eledaappreciate your gesture.”

The Cardassian inclined his head. “I am Gul Kell, commander of the starship Kornaire.This is Rhan Ico, of our science ministry, and Hadlo, a cleric of the Oralian Way. We represent a diplomatic initiative from our ruling body, the Detapa Council.” Did he detect a slight air of disdain when Kell indicated the cleric? Jas filed that thought away for later consideration; at his leisure, he would go back over the recording of this conversation and sift it for subtle meaning. “We are returning your dead,” continued Kell, “and with that act of compassion we wish to make formal contact with your world and your government.”

“Then Bajor will welcome you,” Jas answered, speaking quickly to cut off any reply that Verin would have made. Nowwas the moment; now was the chance to put himself in the middle of this before the First Minister forced him back on to the sidelines. “Iwill welcome you. I govern the city of Korto, on the northern continent of Bajor, from a seat of great honor known as the Naghai Keep. If you will agree to it, Gul Kell, I would gladly invite you and your party to accept my hospitality as a small measure of thanks for what you have done.” He heard the sharp intake of breath from Verin’s side of the screen, but did not spare the old man a look.

The Cardassian commander nodded. “That is acceptable. We will reach Bajor orbit in two of your rotations.” The alien gave a curt nod. “Until then. Kornaireout.”

The feed from the other ship blinked out and suddenly Verin’s face was filling half the screen again. “Did I not make myself clear, Jas?” demanded the First Minister. “Your rank does not give you the right to set interplanetary policy for our world!”

“Forgive me, sir,” Jas returned. “I did only what any man would—I offered gratitude to someone who had earned it—”

Verin’s angry snort cut him off. “This matter goes far beyond your understanding! Don’t try to build up your importance by blind opportunism!”

“My eyes are fully open,” Jas retorted. He glanced at the Militia officer. “Colonel, I would ask that you have the aliens transport whatever remains of the Eledaand her crew to your vessel. Traffic Control will want to conduct a thorough investigation into the cause of the ship’s loss.”

Li nodded. “I concur, Minister. I’ll see to it. In the meantime, we’ll take the Kornaireon a slow, roundabout route in to the homeworld. That’ll give us plenty of time to scan her and prepare our orbital posture. Just in case.” He straightened in his chair. “Li out.”

Now the screen showed only Verin’s face. “You should have let me handle this, Holza,” said the old man. “You don’t have experience with aliens. I don’t think for one moment that you understand what you’ve let yourself in for.”

“You underestimate me, Kolek. You always have.” Jas reached for the communicator control on the surface of his desk. “Think of this as a chance to learn how wrong you are about me.” He tapped the keypad and the screen went dark.

Immediately, all the tension he had been holding in check flooded out of him, and Jas’s face flushed with color. Moderating the tremor in his hands, he snapped his fingers at Lonnic. “Fire’s sake, I need a drink. Give me a glass of that Alvanian brandy.” Tomo did as he asked, and he tossed back the contents of the tumbler with a single flick of the wrist. The smooth heat of the alcohol washed through him, smothering the churn of emotions. He eyed his assistant’s distant expression. “Tomo? Don’t drift off on me. This is important. I need you focused.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, with a wooden nod. “It’s just…I hadn’t expected…”

Jas helped himself to a refill and took his time with the second glass. “Neither did I. But then the hallmark of an intelligent man is the way in which he deals with the unexpected.” He studied the glass. “I think I dealt with that to our advantage.”

She nodded again. “It’s strange,” she began. “The one in charge, Kell. He introduced the one in the robes as a cleric.” Lonnic’s hand strayed to her face and touched the silver and gold links that hung from her right earlobe. “I’ve never heard of Cardassians having a religion before. I always thought they were…godless.”

Jas turned to the open window, and a slow smile emerged on his lips. “It would seem otherwise. I wonder what else we’ll learn about them?”