Star Trek: Seven Deadly Sins

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Star Trek: Seven Deadly Sins Page 34

by Margaret Clark (Editor)


  “From the first moment I saw you,” Kira whispered, pulling Sisko on top of her on the bed and unfastening his tunic, “I knew I had to make you mine. Knew I had to own you.”

  Sisko said nothing, only allowed her to continue removing his clothes.

  “What’s wrong, Benjamin?” she murmured, kissing his neck and chest. “Don’t you want me, too?”

  “Of course I do,” he said hoarsely.

  “Then act like it,” she commanded.

  Sisko did as he was told.

  Kira Nerys was greedy.

  She used him not once that afternoon, not twice or even three times, but no less than six times, which was taxing on just about every part of his constitution. When Sisko almost failed to perform the fifth time, she threatened to bring one of her Klingon assistants into the equation, and the sheer terror of the implication somehow succeeded in making his body cooperate where the Intendant’s other attempts had failed.

  Kira was now lying on her side next to him on the generously sized bed, rhythmically stroking his chest and stomach with both hands, as if he were a dog. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get tired of you, Benjamin,” she sighed. “You’re just . . . so . . . beautiful.”

  Sisko swallowed.

  “Well?” Kira said, as if waiting for something.

  “Uh . . . yes?”

  “Aren’t I beautiful, too, Benjamin?”

  “Of course you are,” he said quickly. “Intendant, you hardly need me to tell you that you’re beautiful. Everyone knows you are.”

  She frowned. “Yes, but I want to hear it from you, Benjamin. I want to . . . believe it when you tell me. And I don’t want to have to ask you for it again.”

  Her displeasure frightened him. “You’re beautiful,” he said, pretending, as he said it, that he was talking to Kasidy Yates, and not Kira. Thinking of Kasidy proved to be a mistake, though, and Kira detected the change at once.

  “Your mind is elsewhere,” she accused. “You’re not thinking about me at all.”

  “Of course I am.”

  Kira stood up. She looked angry and betrayed for a moment, which worried Sisko profoundly, but then suddenly her expression turned serene. “Well, Benjamin. I wasn’t going to tell you this, but maybe you deserve to hear it. You performed quite well, just now, though I suggest you try to act a little more convincing next time. Anyway, I suppose you’ve been through enough today.” She sighed. “Your little friend Kasidy Yates? She’s just fine.”

  Sisko’s hands tightened around the sheets. “What are you talking about?”

  Kira laughed as she picked up her green dress from the floor, where she had let it fall hours before. “Your little Terran friend, the girl who owed all that money to Akiem. The one you went looking for today, after I gave you the shuttle—just like I knew you would. I arranged for her to be taken somewhere safe. Don’t worry, Benjamin, they won’t find her.”

  “Why . . . why . . . ?”

  “When I told you I would make all your problems go away, I meant all of them,” Kira said. “I am nothing if not true to my word.” She sat down on the bed and began to stroke his chest again.

  “Well,” Sisko said, feeling slightly confused. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Kira said. She sounded friendly, but then her voice turned steely. “But don’t think for a moment that I will ever let you get away with something like that when you work for me. Kasidy Yates was a pass for you, Benjamin. You will never get another pass like that. Not ever again.”

  “Fair enough,” he said, and this time, he was telling the truth.

  “You will never see her again, either,” Kira commanded.

  Sisko nodded, slowly, and tried to smile. It’s all right. Just to know that she’s safe. It didn’t keep his heart from sinking, though.

  Kira stood up again and wandered beyond the screen, handing her green dress to a Klingon assistant who had been standing there the entire time she and Sisko had been in bed together. She gestured to another Klingon, an especially brutish-looking man who brought her a white dressing gown, and the ugly alien helped her into it.

  Kira walked back toward the bed as she wrapped her dressing gown around her waist. “I’m almost finished with you for now,” she said.

  “All right,” he replied.

  “I’m arranging for you to have quarters right next to mine. Would that make you very happy?”

  “Yes,” he lied smoothly.

  “Good,” she said, and sat down next to him. “I know it would make me happy. Very happy.”

  Sisko watched her for a moment, wondering what more she wanted from him. She did not touch him again. She seemed to be searching for something in his face. He wondered, for a frightened moment, if she was searching for love, if she truly wanted him to love her. If that was what she wanted, she was going to be very disappointed.

  To his consternation, she suddenly broke out into a little laugh.

  “What’s funny?” he asked.

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” Kira said, but then she threw back her head and laughed again. She laughed for a very long time, leaving Sisko very uncomfortable, even more uncomfortable than he had been when he’d been having sex with her. To be used and then laughed at—it was too much.

  “It’s just,” she gasped, as she struggled to regain her composure. “It’s just that—oh, Benjamin. To think—that Jennifer already knew everything! If you could have seen your face, how frightened you were that she would find out . . .”

  “What do you mean?” he demanded. “What do you mean she already knew everything?”

  “I mean,” Kira said, still chuckling to herself, “that Jennifer already knew that you killed Thadial Bokar. She already knew, and she had already covered it up.”

  “What . . . what are you talking about?”

  “Benjamin, Jennifer has been covering for your blunders all the way back to the beginning with Akiem. You would have been exposed as a fraud a long time ago if you didn’t have a wife who loved you enough to cover your tracks. She also probably knew about your visits to the moon where Kasidy Yates lived, and she very well may have known why.”

  “No,” Sisko said hotly. “You’re just trying to get under my skin. You’re lying.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter either way,” Kira said. “You’re safe now, aren’t you, Benjamin?’ She smiled her characteristic, unnerving smile, like a beautiful, deadly snake.

  Sisko got up from the bed and angrily began to pull on his clothes. He could not bring himself to believe what he was being told, even though . . .

  Even though maybe you always knew it. You always knew that someone had to be looking out for you, to keep your skewed tallies from being discovered, and you knew it had to be Jennifer.

  Benjamin felt sick. “What about Stan Devitt?” he demanded. “You know so much—do you know what happened to him?”

  “Well, much as I wish I could claim credit for him, I actually had nothing to do with his death,” Kira said casually. She lay back down on the bed with her arms behind her head.

  “He’s . . . dead, then?”

  “Yes, one of my men confirmed it this morning. Oh, don’t look so upset. He was marked for death anyway.”

  “What do you mean, marked for death?”

  “He was meddling, trying to put some heat on my political rivals in order to prevent me from getting to you and Jennifer. I had every intention of getting rid of him. But someone else got to him first.” Kira sighed. “I suppose it doesn’t matter either way, but I would have done a much cleaner job of it than the woman who ultimately got to him.”

  “A woman? Who was it? Why would anyone have reason to kill him?”

  Kira shrugged. “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. It was a Trill woman, I was told. Maybe he was having an affair with her. My man told me she was . . . quite pretty.”

  A Trill woman? Sisko had no clue who would have wanted Stan dead . . . besides the Intendant.

  Kira went on. “But I suppose I should
thank her, whoever she was. With Stan out of the way, I can now have you both, if I want.”

  “No,” Benjamin said. “Not Jennifer. Don’t bring her here. I can’t bear to have to see her if . . .”

  “If you’re going to be making love to me?” Kira said. Benjamin could not tell if she was amused or offended.

  “I just don’t want to have to see her,” he mumbled.

  “Well, I will have Jennifer, when the time is right. And believe me, Benjamin, she’ll be glad to have the work, whether you’re here or not. With her father gone, her status at Akiem might not be nearly as good as it was.” Kira sat up again. “Anyway, she’s too smart to be puttering around with those routine computer checks they have her doing.” Kira smiled to herself. “Far too smart.”

  Sisko said nothing at all. Yes, Jennifer was smart. And beautiful, and loyal—and she loved him. She loved him enough to save him from himself. And how had he repaid her?

  “I can’t do this,” he suddenly said, his voice strangled. He started to storm out, but one of Kira’s Klingon assistants lurked menacingly, and stepped in his path when he tried to go beyond the screen that divided the room.

  The Intendant clucked her tongue. “Benjamin,” she said. “We had a deal. You have to hold up your end of the bargain, you know. That’s how this sort of thing works, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” he said, and reluctantly sat back down on the edge of the bed. He did not look at her.

  Kira crawled up behind him, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Your quarters are ready now, if you’d be more comfortable there. I’ll have someone go down to Zismer and get your things from your old apartment, and they can explain it all to Jennifer, as well.”

  The thought of one of Kira’s thugs showing up at the apartment to “explain” it to Jennifer was almost more than Sisko could stand, especially considering it would come in the wake of her father’s disappearance. “Please,” he said. “Let me go to Jennifer, just to explain it to her. I would prefer to be the one to tell her.”

  Kira moved away from Sisko, so that he thought he had dismayed her, but she surprised him. “You can go where you want now, Benjamin.” She slid off the bed and strode across the room, smiling at him. “If you want to go see Jennifer, I can’t stop you. You can do whatever you want, in your free time. I won’t ask any questions about where you’ve been.”

  Sisko tried to revel in the great implications of her declaration, though he had a feeling that there was more to it than she was telling him.

  Kira’s face spread into a smile. “As long as you return to me, of course—and come whenever I call you. And Benjamin”—she leaned forward a little—“when you’re with me—you’re with me. You are entirely focused on me, and nothing else. Do you understand?”

  “I understand,” he said.

  “Good. I will get you outfitted with a ship soon enough, but in the meantime, you may use the shuttle I gave you.”

  “The shuttle?”

  “That’s right, Benjamin. It’s yours. Enjoy your freedom.”

  She left him alone for a moment to survey his surroundings, and consider what his new “freedom” was costing him.

  Kira’s men had already been to the apartment when Sisko arrived. Jennifer was sitting on the couch, her posture similar to the one she had assumed on the night that Sisko had come home so drunk, after killing Thadial Bokar.

  “Jennifer—” he began, but she cut him off.

  “Spare me, Benjamin. I know already. Please, just go.”

  “But Jennifer, please listen to me. I didn’t want this to happen, she trapped me. She lied to me, manipulated me—”

  “And used you, is that it?”

  Sisko closed his eyes, ashamed to even look at his wife. “Yes,” he finally said.

  “Was it anything different from what you expected?” Jennifer snapped. “We both knew that if the Intendant wanted you, she’d do whatever it took to get you. But, Benjamin, we both also knew that if you didn’t want to work for her, we would have found a way to prevent it from happening.”

  “We wouldn’t have,” Sisko said. “Your father—he’s gone now, and he was the only one who could have helped us.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Jennifer said. “You’ve proven to be pretty resourceful over the years, and you’ve done it all without my father even knowing about it.”

  Sisko didn’t answer her. He could not bring himself to confess to all the things that Jennifer apparently already knew about.

  “The funny part is—you think you’ll be free now, working for Kira Nerys. But just because she doesn’t have the same kinds of homing devices built into her ships that Akiem used for their shuttles, don’t think for a moment that she doesn’t know where every ship in her fleet is at all times. They’ve all got standard transponders, and she’s perfectly capable of tracking their movements. But more importantly, she’s the Intendant. She doesn’t just know where her ships are—she knows where every ship in the quadrant is, at all times. She doesn’t even need transponders, or any other sort of tracking device for that.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?” Sisko snapped, but the truth was, he hadn’t really thought of it until right now.

  “And your crew!” Jennifer went on. “Sure, you’ll be able to enjoy the status of having a crew at your beck and call, but you know whose beck and call they will really be at? You will never be able to trust that they aren’t just spying on you for their real commander. They will do what you ask when you ask them, but there are no guarantees that they won’t immediately go back to report on every single move you make.”

  “Well, that’s my problem now, and not yours,” he snarled.

  “That’s true,” she said sadly. “Once, I felt as though we shared all our troubles, and I did all I could to help you out of yours. But you’re on your own now. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t help you anymore.”

  Sisko turned to go, but he hung back for a moment more. “Why?” he finally said. “Why did you help me all that time, Jennifer?”

  She laughed. “How could you not understand? I did it because I loved you. I married you because I loved you—I always loved you.”

  “You loved me?”

  “Yes,” she said coldly. “I loved you. But that’s over now, too.”

  Sisko did not leave Zismer right away. He had come back to his favorite tavern on this moon. For old times’ sake, he told himself, but really it was just because he needed a drink, and he needed it right away.

  He was nursing his fourth synthale, thinking about all the ways that he might be able to get out from under Kira’s thumb, but every solution that came to him was more flawed than the last. He was well and truly trapped.

  Sisko finished up the last swallow of his ale, preparing to leave, to go back to Terok Nor, his new home. The tavern door creaked open just as Sisko had been about to stand up, and in walked a petite young woman with a short haircut and a face like a doll’s. For a moment, Benjamin was so charmed by her as to be captivated, her compact form sharply silhouetted in the doorway. At first glance, Sisko took her for a Terran, but a second look revealed the spots along the sides of her face that indicated she was Trill.

  For a moment, Sisko forgot that he was leaving. He watched the woman walk toward the bar. This tavern had very few customers, and the ones it did see were always residents of Zismer. Sisko had little doubt that if he’d seen this woman on Zismer before, he would have remembered it.

  She was young, but her expression declared that she had seen enough for six lifetimes. It was wise without seeming too hard. Sisko found the line of her mouth and the tilt of her pert nose to be so striking, he could not look away.

  Her short dark hair framed a perfectly featured face. Her piercing blue eyes were trained right on him. As she approached the bar, she broke into a bewitching smile that made her look impossibly young. “Bartender,” she said. Her voice was light and easy. “I’ll have whatever this gentleman is drinking right here.” She jabbed a th
umb in Sisko’s direction, and took the stool next to him, right where Janel had always used to sit.

  Sisko wrestled for a moment with the feeling that he had to leave, he had to go home right away, because someone was waiting for him. But that was not his reality anymore; that was the old Benjamin Sisko experiencing that feeling. He could stay now, if he wanted. He could go wherever he wanted now, as long as he eventually returned to the Intendant of Terok Nor, and she had promised him that she would ask no questions about where he had been. It seemed perfect, and he paused, trying to enjoy the feeling of knowing that he did not have to answer to anyone—but he knew that it wasn’t true. He did have to answer to someone, and that person was more dangerous than anyone he had ever known.

 

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