Star Trek: ALL - Seven Deadly Sins

by Dayton Ward

  “We could all get out of here,” she said suddenly. Her expression was wild, now. “We could all just go. Anywhere, like I was saying. Reprogram the shuttle. You, me, Kornelius. There are Terran colonies not terribly far from here that the Alliance has mostly left alone, on worlds where there aren’t enough resources to bother with. We could make do, just like I’ve been doing here. Barter, beg, borrow, steal. Just think of it—never have to cower in fear from them ever again.”

  “I’m not going to run for the rest of my life.”

  One corner of Kasidy’s mouth twisted. “You’re a fool if you can’t see that you’re running now.”

  Sisko shook his head. “You’re crazy,” he said.

  “I’m not,” she said, and stood up, folded her arms the way she had done before, when she was silently judging him. “You’re the one who’s crazy, if you’d rather just keep living like this.”

  Sisko put his clothes back on and turned to go.

  Janel Tigan was shaking his head as he pulled at his Romulan ale. Janel and Sisko were alone in the tavern tonight, as they were most weeknights, except for the proprietor, a Terran man who tended bar. He was off in the back room, probably looking over his gambling receipts. He would come out, if he was summoned, but otherwise the two men had little need to fear being overheard or observed.

  “Janel, come on. You’ve got to help me just this one last time. I promise, this will be the only exception. This woman … there’s simply no way she’s going to be able to pay. Her brother is … he’s had irreparable damage to his brain, he can’t work, she can’t leave him … Her situation is desperate.”

  “And what do you care, exactly?” Janel said, turning on his bar stool and simultaneously wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “I … don’t,” Sisko said. “Except that it’s just … it’s not right, what’s happened to her brother. I don’t know.”

  Janel made a face, pursing his lips. “I can read you like a book, Ben Sisko,” the Trill declared. “You’ve had … relations with this woman, haven’t you?”

  Sisko tried to prevent his expression from darkening, but Janel clucked his tongue.

  “Ahh,” he said, and then chuckled. “I knew eventually you’d come around to it, considering that cold fish you married.”

  “Don’t,” Sisko said, pained. He’d always had an inkling that Janel didn’t care for Jennifer, but he preferred not to hear about it, and Janel knew it. Sisko had a feeling that maybe the Trill had drunk more than usual. He wasn’t acting drunk—he never did—but he was being even more outspoken than usual.

  “My apologies,” the Trill said, and finished his ale. For once, he didn’t immediately call for another. Instead, he leaned in very close to Sisko, startling him with the sudden proximity. “I’ll help you this one last time,” he murmured. “But maybe it’s time you did something for me.”

  “I . . .” Sisko pulled away a little, confused. “What do you have in mind?”

  Janel did not stop crowding Sisko, and slowly he placed one of his startlingly cold hands on Sisko’s cheek, tracing the line of his jaw with his index finger. “You must have an idea, by now, of what I want from you,” the Trill whispered.

  “You … you mean . . .”

  Janel’s face was now less than a finger’s width from Sisko’s. “I don’t generally take risks like that for just anyone,” he said, and then he kissed him on the mouth.

  Sisko was too surprised to resist at first, but then he broke away. “I can’t,” he gasped. “Janel, I don’t … see you that way.”

  The Trill’s expression slowly hardened. He turned away, and then frowned into his empty tankard glass. “Fine,” he said. “If that’s the way you want it. But … I don’t know why you thought I’d keep doing you favors forever, without your offering anything in return.”

  Sisko’s heart sank as he realized, by the other man’s expression, what was going on here. He had really hurt his friend, but Sisko didn’t see how he could give him what he wanted. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But Janel … you yourself told me … that when you’re lusting for something . . .”

  “I guess I must have broken my own rules, where you were concerned,” the Trill said. “I guess I thought … my friendship with you … transcended those rules. Transcended lust. I guess I thought maybe you might feel that way too. But I guess I was stupid.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sisko said again, and he stood to go.

  “If you can’t even be intimate with someone you consider to be a friend,” Janel said flatly, “then I don’t know how you think you could perform for a woman like the Intendant. She’s a predator, plain and simple. A detestable person, Ben.”

  Sisko didn’t say anything.

  Janel turned away and called for another drink.

  As Sisko turned to leave, the Trill called after him. “You’d better watch your back,” he shouted, “because you never know who’s going to be holding that knife.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’ve got a lot on you, Benjamin Sisko,” Janel said. “Too much for you to make an enemy of me.”

  “We’ve been friends a long time, Janel. I thought I could trust you.”

  Janel laughed. “You’re a fool if you think a Terran can ever trust anyone.”

  Stan Devitt stood with his hands locked behind his back, staring out the small, oval window of his cramped office. Sisko did not know why he’d been called to see his father-in-law, but he had a few ideas, and most of them were making his palms sweat profusely.

  “Benny,” Stan said, which caused Sisko to cringe inside. Jennifer’s father only called him Benny when he was trying to project the appearance of camaraderie; in truth, it always came off as disingenuous. Especially since Sisko had never liked the nickname. He was sure he was in trouble.

  “We’ve done our best to make you happy here,” Stan said. “I feel as though everything you’ve been given here far surpasses the expectations of even a high-born Terran.”

  “I can’t argue with that,” Sisko said, scratching at the back of his neck and wishing he could sit down. Stan had not offered him a seat, and it seemed wrong to sit when the other man was standing.

  “But it’s not enough for you?” Stan turned from the window to face his son-in-law.

  “Of course it is,” Sisko said. He hoped his voice didn’t come out as strangled as it seemed in his own head.

  “Well.” Stan smiled. “You would come straight to me with any problems that you had, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes, yes, of course I would.”

  “Because we’re family, Benny. You can trust me with anything. You know that, right? You are married to my daughter, after all. Your interests are my interests.”

  There was a long silence. Sisko felt compelled to say something, to break the awful, loaded quiet. He felt almost certain that Janel had gone to Stan behind his back, had said something to implicate him. His only recourse now would be to turn the tables on the Trill. “Janel Tigan,” he said. “I … I don’t think I can trust him. I think he is going to try to … blackmail me.”

  “Tigan?” Stan looked confused. “Blackmail you … with what?”

  “He … he made a pass at me,” Sisko said quickly. “I refused him. He didn’t take it well—he threatened me, said he would make up something that would … that would be bad for all of us. You, me, Jennifer, all of us. He—he said that Terrans can’t trust anyone.”

  Stan frowned deeply. “He wasn’t lying about that, at least,” he muttered. “We can’t trust anyone but each other. I suppose I always knew Janel Tigan wasn’t above dealing from the bottom of the deck. Those Trill—they don’t have many taboos when it comes to their … sexual proclivities.” The frown twisted itself into a tight smile. “Don’t worry about him, Benny. I’ll see to it that he won’t trouble us.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Sisko said, and almost turned to go before Stan spoke again.

  “You don’t want to work for the Intendant, do you, Benny?
”

  The Intendant? Instantly, Sisko could have kicked himself. Of course! That must be why Stan had called him here, not because of anything to do with Janel Tigan. “No, I would certainly prefer not to. But she made it sound as though I might not have a choice.”

  Stan looked grim. “She is very, very powerful, it’s true,” he said. “But I might be able to do something. I can lean on her political rivals. The Intendant of Empok Nor could make trouble for Kira Nerys, and she knows it. I’m only a Terran, but … if I set the right things in motion, there may be something I can do to keep both you and Jennifer close to me. But that’s only if you don’t want to work for her. I wouldn’t stand in your way, of course, if you would prefer . . .”

  “No,” Sisko said. “I don’t want to live on Terok Nor.”

  Stan smiled, looked genuinely relieved. “Well, that’s settled,” he said. “Because believe me, Benny, whatever she’s promised you—it will come with a price. Hopefully, I can keep you both here.” He nodded, his gaze unfocused, as if mulling it over to himself. “Yes, I think I might be able to do it.”

  Sisko felt semi-relieved, but at the same time, there was a sense of loss, considering that the possibility of having his own ship would truly be off the table. Not that it ever could really have happened, he thought. He hoped he hadn’t just made a dangerous mistake, mentioning Janel Tigan. There was always the possibility that Stan would believe whatever Janel would say to counter Sisko’s claims, but he hoped that his father-in-law would genuinely side with family, like he had said. With nothing further to discuss, Sisko left his father-in-law’s office.

  Sisko had an unusually unpleasant week following the conversation with Stan Devitt. He’d been forced to twist a few arms a little harder than he might have preferred, but he told himself that there were worse things than putting the fear of the Alliance into a few deadbeats. He’d only gotten one man to actually pay up so far, and the implications of what he was going to have to do down the road were exhausting. But I knew this was what I signed on for, he reminded himself. In fact, it frightened him a little to find that it was almost therapeutic, at times, to have a target on which he could take out his aggressions. The crack of bone in one man’s thumb was oddly satisfying, the screams of a middle-aged woman did little to unnerve him. Sisko wasn’t sure if he liked this new version of himself, but he didn’t see any alternative.

  Sisko might have been able to put the troubling situation with Janel out of his mind altogether, if the Trill’s glaring absence hadn’t been so apparent. Nobody had seen Tigan since the day after the “meeting” Sisko had attended with Stan Devitt. He told himself he didn’t have time to worry about it, but he kept coming back to it. Perhaps he was not as cold-hearted as he might have wished. Janel was his friend, and Sisko was worried about him.

  He had ventured to the tavern on his shabby homeworld only once. On the last evening of the week, he decided it might be time to try again. Maybe Janel would reappear. Maybe he had gone away to Trill, or to New Sydney on some business-related venture. It had happened before, though usually not for such a long time.

  There was someone seated at the bar when Benjamin walked in, but it was not Janel. It was a Farian, someone who worked for Akiem, a man named Thadial Bokar. Bokar worked in close proximity with Stan Devitt, and Sisko had never liked him much, but he was especially chagrined to see him now. Bokar had never had cause to come to this tavern before.

  “Benjamin Sisko,” the man exclaimed, causing Sisko to balk. He had never bothered to address Benjamin with more than a grunt before this moment.

  “Hello,” Sisko said carefully.

  “I don’t suppose I could buy you a drink?” the man said.

  Sisko didn’t say anything. Something was definitely amiss here. Bokar was being altogether too familiar.

  “Janel tells me you really love your synthale,” the Farian went on.

  “Janel,” Benjamin repeated.

  “Sure,” Bokar said. “I know the two of you were friendly.” He chortled. “If you could call it friendly.”

  Sisko’s mouth suddenly felt uncomfortably dry, and he swallowed. “Just what are you implying?”

  Bokar shrugged. “Nothing that you have to worry about anymore.”

  “Oh no?” Sisko said. He did not like this at all.

  “No, no. Janel Tigan is gone. He decided to go back to Trill. Or, I should say, I decided for him. Permanently.”

  “Wh … what do you mean, permanently?”

  Bokar grinned. “I’d expected you to act a little more grateful than this,” he said. “Considering.”

  Sisko stood frozen in his tracks for a moment before he took a step backward. “I’ll take a rain check on that drink,” he said quietly. “Thank you, though.” He turned to go.

  The next morning, Sisko created an excuse to use a shuttle. He had two errands in mind, and felt deeply conflicted about both of them.

  His first stopover was to see Kasidy Yates.

  Kornelius still sat near the back of the tent as Sisko approached, his murky gray eyes aimed toward the colorless sky above. Sisko supposed the injured man could likely still discern the difference between dark and light, which might have been why he preferred to sit outside. “Hello,” Sisko said, but Kornelius didn’t answer. He never did.

  “Miss Yates?” Sisko called as he pulled the bell-cord, and then, “Kasidy?”

  She appeared almost immediately, looking possibly even more beautiful than she had before. Her lips were soft and red, her eyes bright, and her skin glowing, despite the unforgiving climate of the world where she lived. Her hair was pulled off her face with a piece of twine. She was wiping her hands on a torn piece of cloth sacking; it seemed she had been cooking something over a small shipping container with some warming chemicals she had set up in the center of the tent.

  “What is it, Ben?” She sounded tired, but there was a glint of hopefulness in her voice.

  “You have to pay me,” Sisko said. He did not look at her. “The man who has been helping me cover for you is dead. If you can’t pay … then I can’t be responsible for what will happen to you and your brother.”

  Kasidy’s mouth hardened. “You can’t be responsible?” she repeated.

  “I am trying to warn you,” Sisko said. “Please, just—”

  “Just what? Just wait here to die? That’s essentially what you’re telling me.”

  “Kasidy, you can just go to work in the mines like everyone else. Your brother doesn’t need much help—he just sits there all day long.”

  “You could help us get away,” Kasidy said, gesturing to the place beyond the transient village where shuttles could dock. “We could all get away, Ben.”

  “I will not spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder,” he snapped. “If I’m going to be free, it’s going to be on my terms. I won’t answer to anyone.”

  “Then you’re looking for the wrong kind of freedom,” Kasidy shouted back. “I would rather die owing those bastards money than give them anything. Unlike you, who have given them your soul.”

  She turned and stalked away from him, leaving Benjamin standing dumbly in the entrance of her tent.

  Sisko left. He didn’t have time to argue with Kasidy Yates, not today. There was too much to be done today, and too much at stake for his own situation. He had tried to warn her, hadn’t he? It wasn’t his fault if she wouldn’t listen. Was it?

  As he left, he saw movement from the corner of his eye, and turned to see that Kornelius had shifted his posture. The blind man’s head was no longer tilted toward the sky; indeed, he appeared to be staring straight in Sisko’s direction. To his great surprise, the blind simpleton spoke.

  “None of us is free,” he said. Sisko gaped at the man, waited to see if he would say anything else, but he only turned his face back toward the sun.

  None of us is free. Was he only imitating something he had heard his sister say often? Or was there genuine coherence behind the words? Sisko immediately considere
d a terrible possibility.

  Terran spies. The Alliance liked to employ Terrans for certain duties, and they liked to pit Terrans against each other. Could this entire situation with Kasidy have been a setup from the beginning, to expose him? Could her urgings to “run away” be a ruse, to test him?

  Sisko stopped to laugh at himself as he boarded his shuttle. The blind man would not have given himself away if he were truly a spy. Kasidy Yates certainly was not working for the Alliance. Her situation on this world was perilous, but Sisko believed her when she said that she would rather die than given anything to the Cardassian-Klingon Alliance.

  Sisko enabled the shuttle to return to one of its preprogrammed destinations, one of the satellite locations for Akiem on Trivas, the one where Stan Devitt’s office was located. His hands trembled slightly at the controls. I am becoming paranoid, he told himself. If he couldn’t place his trust in another Terran, then maybe things were truly hopeless.

  A communiqué alerted on the dash; it was Stan Devitt. Benjamin answered the call with deep reluctance. If there was ever a Terran that he couldn’t trust . . .

  “Benjamin,” the older man barked, his voice foreshortened by the comm. “You need to return to headquarters right away.”

  “I’m on my way right now.”

  But when Sisko reached his destination, he did not go to his father-in-law’s office. Instead, he wasted little time in locating the person with whom he meant to confer. Thadial Bokar was sometimes difficult to find, as the Farian liked to be anywhere but the large office shared by the lower-echelon employees, but Sisko just happened to get lucky. Thadial was waiting for a turbolift on the main floor, probably to ride it aimlessly as a means of passing the time.

  “Bokar,” Sisko called to the cocky Farian. “Remember that drink you offered me last night?”

  “Sure,” Bokar said smoothly. “Don’t tell me—it’s sixteen hundred hours somewhere, right?”

  Sisko smiled. “Yes, well, I was thinking that maybe I could take you up on that offer. I don’t have any appointments for the afternoon, and I’m unusually thirsty today. How about it?”