Enigma Tales

by Una McCormack

“Calm down! She’s in here, look!” She waved the tricorder at him. “If that was him we were just chasing, he knows that we’ve caught up with him. And who knows what he’ll do to her?”

  “Doctor Pulaski!” It was Efheny arriving, breathless and anxious. “We’re not going to get in this way, so why don’t we try the back? There might be a

  way in.”

  “Good idea,” said Alden. “You two go that way,” he gestured to the right-hand side of the building. “I’ll go around to the left.”

  She thought of asking for that phaser, but he was gone and quickly lost in the haze and the gathering dust. She twitched at her mask, adjusting the filter, and followed Efheny as he set off.

  They inched their way on. The wind was picking up, whistling down the narrow roads between the big buildings, lifting up and whirling the dust. Pulaski’s affection for Cardassia was rapidly diminishing. She saw Efheny, an indistinct figure up ahead, come to a halt. He called back over his shoulder.

  “Doctor Pulaski! I think I’ve found a way in!”

  She came to join him. He was standing by a flight of metal steps and pointing up. She peered up the steps and thought she could make out a doorway there. An emergency exit, perhaps? Pulaski didn’t care as long as it had been left open. She ran up the steps, Efheny closely behind, and tried the door, which opened with a creak.

  “Good man!” she said, patting Efheny on the shoulder.

  They came out into a dark stairwell. Pulaski led the way carefully, trying to keep quiet. They closed the door behind them, to keep out the wind and the dust, and they both shook off their masks with relief. Pulaski rubbed at her eyes until Efheny stopped her.

  “It doesn’t help,” he said. “It only makes it worse.”

  She grunted her agreement and looked around, trying to get her bearings. They were at one end of a narrow corridor, at the far end of which was the light that they had seen outside: someone had left a lamp on in one of the offices. They walked along the corridor until they reached the office and peered inside. It was empty. They went in. The far wall was made of transparent aluminum, giving a good view down onto the warehouse floor.

  “I wonder what they store here,” said Efheny.

  “Does it matter?” said Pulaski.

  “I guess not,” said Efheny. “As long as it’s not combustible, toxic, or liable to burn on contact with skin.”

  “Huh,” she said. He had a point. Perhaps she was glad she hadn’t brought a phaser after all. She checked the tricorder—yes, Antok was still here. The ancient tricorder couldn’t tell her where. She peered down into the dark warehouse, trying to see something that might help.

  Suddenly, in the big open space below, lights came on at one end, sending long strips of illumination down through the warehouse. Dark stacks of packing crates and pieces of machinery cast long, weird shadows. She heard a muffled cry and then saw movement, and a Cardassian figure—her kidnapper, she guessed—dashed out from under cover.

  Alden came from nowhere. He dived at the other man, grappling him to the ground. They fought like hounds.

  “Is he okay?” said Efheny anxiously. “He looks like he might be in trouble.”

  If Pulaski was going to put money on anyone in this fight, she would put it on Alden, who was, she knew, fit and professionally trained. But the man who had held her hostage had had a fierce look about him—something desperate and slightly unhinged. She knew that he would fight on beyond reason.

  “I guess it won’t do any harm if we try to help,” she said. She led Efheny back out of the office into the corridor, and they found the stairs leading down to the warehouse proper. She took these two at a time, Efheny close behind, and she came out through a set of double doors into the warehouse itself. And then she nearly fell flat on her face—something was lying on the floor in front of the doors.

  She bent down, and her eyes widened in shock. Not something—someone. Elima Antok, her hands and mouth bound, her eyes bright with terror.

  “Oh, Elima, honey!” she whispered, bending down alongside her. “I’m so glad I’ve found you! Honey, it’s going to okay. I promise everything’s going to be okay!”

  With Efheny’s help, she released Antok’s hands and feet. The young woman threw her arms around Pulaski’s neck. “Oh, I hoped you were okay!” Antok whispered, her voice hoarse. “I hoped you’d get away and bring someone after me . . .”

  Pulaski, soothing the other woman, took the opportunity to check her for injuries. Everything seemed okay—there’d be shock, of course, and that bastard had tied those ropes tight enough to leave marks, but nothing that a tissue regenerator wouldn’t heal. The fright might take a little longer to recover from.

  A phaser blasted out, echoing around the open space. Antok screamed. Pulaski, looking up, saw Efheny standing there, mouth open, an easy target.

  “Metok, you damn fool, get down!” Pulaski yelled. He turned at the sound of her voice and, suddenly realizing his danger, fell to the ground. There was another blast from a phaser. Pulaski threw herself over Antok. Yet another shot. Then everything went very quiet.

  After a moment or two, Pulaski risked moving. “Elima,” she said, rolling over to check on the other woman. “Are you okay?”

  Antok nodded. Efheny too, she saw, was fine, pressed back into the shadows.

  But who had fired those shots? Had anyone been hit? Who was still out there?

  Pulaski stood up and inched forward. “Peter?” she called in a hoarse, carrying whisper. “Peter! Are you okay?”

  Then, suddenly, wide doors at the far end of the warehouse swung open, and blasting in from the outside came a wave of dust and the shrill sound of sirens, and she heard people calling out, yelling orders, and bright white spotlights shone inside. The cavalry, thought Pulaski. She stepped forward, and found herself looking down the barrel of a snub-nosed Cardassian disruptor. The big guy holding it was uniformed and wearing a helmet with a visor.

  “I’m the honored guest,” Pulaski said. “The bad guy is over there.”

  But she raised her hands just in case, not particularly keen on being the recipient of friendly fire, and she let him lead her out into the thick night air.

  Outside, all was busy. There were skimmers, and more lights, and a great stirring of dust. Pulaski peered through this and saw Antok being led, stumbling, off toward one of the skimmers. Next she saw Efheny, taken off into another direction, his hands upon his head.

  “Hey,” she said to the officer with her, “leave him alone! He’s not done anything wrong!”

  She made to push past him and go over, but he blocked her. Not by restraining her—he wouldn’t have dared do that—but by simply being big and in the way. “Doctor Pulaski,” he said firmly, “it’s time to go.”

  “But where is he?” she said. “Have you got him?”

  “We’ve got him,” he said. “Doctor Pulaski, this is all under control now. Please—come this way.”

  Reluctantly, still anxious about Antok and concerned for Efheny, Pulaski allowed him to direct her over to a larger skimmer. She found Alden already sitting in the back. He was covered in dust and there was a bruise forming around his eye.

  “Sheesh,” she said. “Let me take a look at that.”

  He leaned forward obediently and let her check him out. “You’ll be fine,” she said. “Though that’ll look impressive in the morning.”

  “You should see the other guy.”

  “You got him, huh?”

  He gave her a crooked smile. “Did you ever doubt me?”

  She gave a caw of laughter and patted him on the arm. “Good job, mister.”

  He closed his eyes, sighed, and let his head fall back. “Kitty,” he said.

  “Yes?”

  “Remind me never to go on vacation with you again.”

  The nerve of it. She looked out through the window, hopin
g to catch sight of the kidnapper, hoping to see with her own eyes that he was restrained, but the dust was too bad, and the skimmer pulled out, and she saw nothing more.

  * * *

  The skimmer purred steadily through the city. Pulaski tried to pick out landmarks, but the dust made it impossible.

  “Hey,” she said to Alden after a while, “do you think we’re under arrest?”

  He cracked open an eye. “I have no idea,” he said. “What crimes do you think we committed?”

  “I’ve not done anything,” she said.

  He thought about that. “Breaking and entering,” he said.

  “That emergency exit was unlocked,” she said. “And I had good reason to think that Elima Antok was in trouble in there—I was right too.”

  “Breaking into the lab,” he suggested.

  “Nope,” she said. “I had clearances. They invited me to use their equipment too, so don’t think you can pin anything on me there.”

  He thought awhile longer. “How about being a damn nuisance?”

  “I don’t think there’s a law about that.”

  “This is Cardassia,” he said.

  “Best legal system in the quadrant,” she said. “Aren’t you worried, though?”

  “Worried about what?”

  “Well, where did you find that phaser?” She looked at him suspiciously. “And how did you manage to turn up at the warehouse at exactly the same time as I did? Are you keeping tabs on me?”

  “Kitty,” he said, exasperated, “you were kidnapped. Would you rather I wasn’t keeping tabs on you?”

  “Huh. You haven’t answered my question about the phaser.”

  He turned to look at her. “Funny thing about Cardassia Prime,” he said. “There’s all sorts of stuff just lying around.”

  “You’re full of shit, Peter. Did you bring it with you?”

  “I promise you that I didn’t bring it with me.”

  “So where did you get it?”

  He didn’t answer. The skimmer eased up to a halt in front of a big building, and the officers in the front politely but firmly escorted them inside. They were led through various doors and down numerous corridors to a small room with some bad art on the walls. Some tea arrived. Then they were left to wait. Alden investigated the tea.

  “I’ll be mother,” he said, and poured.

  “I don’t want any tea,” grumbled Pulaski. “I’m sick of drinking damn tea.”

  “It’s not possible to be sick of drinking tea,” said Alden. “Besides, this is good stuff, Kitty—ettaberry. Helps soothe some of the effects of the dust.”

  Grudgingly, she took the cup from him, and, even more grudgingly, discovered that he was right, and that the brew was not only pleasant, but had a mild analgesic effect. She thought of quizzing him again about the phaser, but decided it probably wasn’t a good idea inside a police station. She stared at the pictures on the wall—they really were horrible, big crude splashes of brown and orange—and worried about Efheny and Antok.

  They waited. Time passed. They drank some more tea and waited awhile longer. Eventually, the door slid open. A Cardassian female, tall and on the youngish side of middle age, strode in. Her clothes were plain, but smart, but she looked as if she’d slept in them. No, thought Pulaski, she looked like she wished she’d had the chance to sleep in them. She went straight to the teapot and poured herself a cup, pulled a face when she tasted it (it must be cold by now), and then sat down. She eyed them both balefully.

  “Doctor Pulaski, Doctor Alden,” said, “I’m Arati Mhevet. I’m—”

  “Chief of the city constabulary,” said Alden.

  “On top of your brief, eh, Peter?” Pulaski muttered.

  “I told you I do my research,” he murmured back.

  “That’s right,” said Mhevet. “I’m in charge around here. I’m also furious.”

  “Me too,” said Pulaski. “We’ve been sitting here for ages. I thought I was an honored guest of the Union—”

  Mhevet’s eyes flashed. “You’re an absolute menace, is what you are! I should throw you in the cells for obstructing a police investigation!”

  “Obstructing?” Pulaski snorted. “I found Antok, and I found your kidnapper.” She nodded at Alden. “He helped, I suppose.”

  “Keep me out of this,” Alden muttered.

  “You’re already deep in it,” Mhevet said. “That phaser didn’t come out of nowhere. You’re no longer in Starfleet, and outside the embassy grounds it’s proscribed. Which means that either you brought that weapon here illegally, or you procured it illegally once you were here.”

  Alden shrugged. “It was lying around inside the warehouse,” he said, which Pulaski knew was a lie—he’d been carrying it before they went inside. Still, she wasn’t going to tell. “He’d already shot at us. It seemed prudent to make use of whatever was to hand to defend us.”

  “If you think I believe that, you’re mistaking me for a fool,” said Mhevet. “Nevertheless . . .” She didn’t look very happy, Pulaski thought, which probably meant good news for her and Alden. “Nevertheless, your ambassador is very persuasive. And the castellan has put in a good word for you.”

  Pulaski’s eyebrows shot up. “The castellan?”

  “He thinks—now how did he put it—he thinks that ‘on balance you add greatly to the general gaiety of life.’ ” Mhevet shook her head. “He says that kind of thing sometimes. My impression? You’ve amused him, Doctor Pulaski.”

  Alden covered a laugh. Pulaski pursed her lips. “Well, that’s better than nothing, I suppose. But if I can be frank—”

  Mhevet sighed. “Must you?”

  “I think I will. Frankly, I don’t care what you do, nor do I care what your castellan thinks of me.”

  “I’ll make sure I mention that when I next see him,” said Mhevet.

  “Be sure you do. Anyway, what I do care about is what happens to that poor young man I dragged around the city with me.”

  Mhevet, a puzzled expression on her face, glanced at Alden.

  “What?” Pulaski said. “No, not him! He can take care of himself.”

  “Thanks, I think,” muttered Alden.

  “I mean poor Efheny!” said Pulaski. “You know, he didn’t ask to be assigned to me. He got stuck with the job, and he hung around to look after me even when I dragged him off into a storm in the middle of the night to get shot at. He was worried about me, looking out for me, and I don’t want him to get into trouble for that. He just wouldn’t let me go off on my own.”

  Mhevet was looking at her thoughtfully. “Well, I’m glad to see you think of the little people. No, we won’t be pressing any charges against Efheny. I’m happy to assume that he didn’t know exactly what he was getting himself into. But I hope . . . I hope that he’s learned something from all this.”

  “Learned what?” said Pulaski.

  “Not to go outside in dust storms,” said Mhevet. She stood up. “There’s a skimmer waiting to take you back to the embassy, where I understand your ambassador is hoping to speak to you.”

  “Ah,” said Pulaski.

  “And then you’re welcome to return to the campus and continue with the program of events scheduled for you. If you could try,” said Mhevet, a note of weary pleading in her voice, “please, try not to get involved in any sensitive debates, kidnapped, or intervene in any ongoing police investigations before you leave, I would be very grateful.”

  “I’ll try,” said Pulaski.

  “Not long now before we’re gone,” said Alden.

  “The countdown has started,” said Mhevet. She led them out of the waiting room and back through to the front of the building, where she left them with another officer. “It’s been interesting to meet you, Doctor Pulaski,” she said. “Congratulations on the medal, by the way. I hope the ceremony goes well. I will be the
first to say that you most definitely make an impact.”

  She was considerably less courteous, if that was possible, with Alden. She stood for a moment looking at him, arms folded, eyes narrow, and lips pursed, as if she wasn’t sure about letting him go, but eventually she shook her head and went on her way.

  “Hey, Peter,” said Pulaski, nudging his arm, “looks like we got away with it.”

  “Seems so.” Mhevet went through a set of double doors, and Alden breathed out. He turned to Pulaski and grinned. “We live to ride another day.”

  An officer emerged from a side door and, to Pulaski’s immense relief, he was followed out by Efheny. “Metok!” she cried in delight. “Good to see you!”

  Efheny walked over to join her. She took a good look at him, and to her alarm she saw that he was shaking. She turned to the officer accompanying him, ready to kick up a storm about police brutality, but then suddenly Efheny laughed out loud. He grabbed her hand.

  “Doctor Pulaski! That was amazing! Can we do it again?”

  * * *

  Garak welcomed Mhevet into his office at the official residence with great relief. Whatever had come between them, he now fervently hoped was resolved. He was glad to see her; most of all, he was glad that his instincts about her had been correct. She was as courageous and as incorruptible as he had hoped. Sometimes, looking at the generations that came after him, Garak was humbled and ashamed. What a terrible inheritance they had received, people like Mhevet and Antok. How their world had been squandered; all that was left for them was ash and dust. And they had not given up, but had turned their hands to the task of reconstruction without complaint. They had not deserved their start in life, and all that Cardassia had become was down to their efforts. One day, this world would be theirs entirely. He could not think of better hands in which to leave it. He was so glad to have her back. He was proud of her, like a father with a daughter. He had missed her.

  He was also enjoying her report immensely. Whenever Pulaski was mentioned, she collapsed into incoherence. “That woman!” she cried. “That bloody woman!”

  “Do you know,” said Garak, “when I heard that she was coming, I recalled that she had served on the Enterprise. So I sent a message to Jean-Luc Picard asking him for his impressions of her. And that is almost exactly what he said. You’re in fine company, Arati.”