Dukat blinked and for an instant the haze faded. He saw Hadlo leaving the chamber through the door to the east tower. Then he was moving forward, propelled by a building surge of heat in his chest, a furious anger that shattered the cold cage he had built to contain it. His hands tightened into claws as the raw need for revenge swept away everything else in his mind.
Darrah Mace turned the corner on the lower level of the east tower, grateful for the opportunity to do something as straightforward as a foot patrol. The pomp and circumstance of the reception and the announcement made him uncomfortable. Too many people, too big an area to cover adequately, too much chance that some moron would turn up and make trouble. There had been some posturing on the planetary comnet by a few of the usual suspects, from the crackpots to the more serious activists like the Alliance for Global Unity, all of them decrying the arrival of the aliens; but then there were just as many lunatic postings by people who welcomed the Cardassians, and some in ways that were less than seemly. With Colonel Coldri’s help, Darrah had put on extra security to ensure the offworlders were well protected from both the people who wanted them gone and the ones who wanted to bask in their glory.
Those thoughts fell from his mind when he almost collided with one of the black-armored aliens as he rounded a bend in the corridor. He jerked back with an automatic apology on his lips; then he recognized the face. “Dalin Dukat?”
The Cardassian blinked. He seemed distracted. “Constable Darrah.”
Something rang an alarm bell in Darrah’s mind. The seasoned lawman’s sense for people was giving him a warning, but it was difficult for him to map it to the alien’s body language. He didn’t know the Cardassians well enough to be sure, but there was anger in Dukat’s eyes. He looked as if he were moving with purpose, and the intention behind it was not a benign one.
“I’m looking for the cleric. Hadlo.”
Darrah nodded. “He passed me a moment ago. Going up to the guest chambers, I think.” He moved slightly so that Dukat couldn’t simply walk past him. Darrah frowned and took a chance. “You’re walking like you have a quarrel with the man.”
Dukat’s eyes flashed, and Darrah saw a wary mask drop into place over his expression. “I need to speak to him.”
In that moment, Darrah knew his instincts were correct. “Well,” he said, “don’t let me stop you, then.” He didn’t move, and Dukat stepped out to pass around him. “Strange, though,” Darrah continued. “Pardon me if I’m wrong, but you don’t strike me as the kind of man who’d spend much time at temple.”
Dukat took a few more steps and hesitated. “I’m not. I have unfinished business with the cleric.”
“Right.” Darrah watched him carefully. “Unfinished business. I see that kind of thing a lot in my line of work.” He chuckled dryly. “I guess you could say it’s kind of a flaw in the Bajoran character, if you get my meaning. We’re a passionate people, you know? Sometimes we get so angry about things we lose focus on everything else. Especially when it’s a matter of unfinished business.” The constable shook his head. “We hold those kinds of grudges forever.”
For a moment, he thought the Cardassian was going to say something to him. Instead, the alien turned away and walked up the stone steps to the upper tiers. Darrah blew out a breath, his hand over the phaser in his holster. If they kill each other, does that count as a diplomatic incident?
The door slammed open and Hadlo looked up from the flask of water on the table before him. He put down the half-full glass and presented the intruder with a smile.
“Dalin Dukat. Here you are again. You’re making a habit of this.” In the next second the insouciant expression on the cleric’s lined face was gone as Dukat’s hand clamped around his neck. He was forced to the window of the chamber, air tightening in his lungs. “What are you doing?” he wheezed. “Release me!”
“My son is dead because of you,” The other man bit out the words with icy, quiet fury. “You think you can play with people’s lives like pieces on a game board? What gives you the right?”
In spite of himself, Hadlo’s face creased in amusement and he began to laugh gruffly through the dalin’s viselike grip. “Can it be that an officer in the homeworld’s military is too unsophisticated to grasp the very nature of his own species? Are you that raw and untempered, Dukat, that you do not understand?” His laughter intensified, and the other man grimaced, shoving him away.
“I should kill you,” Dukat growled. “Crush the life from you and then do the same to those other spineless zealots who hang on the hem of your robes!”
Hadlo straightened himself, brushing dust from the front of his clothing. “But you won’t,” he replied, taking a sip of water. “The Oralian Way is the bridge to Bajor now. I am that bridge, Dukat. If you have any loyalty to Cardassia, you will understand that. I will live, because it benefits Cardassia to have me live.” He eyed the officer. “And as much as you are your child’s father, you are Cardassia’s loyal son first, yes? As am I.” Hadlo put down the glass and walked to stand before Dukat. He tipped his head back to expose his neck. His hands were at his sides; the cleric presented the most open target for the dalin’s furious ire. “Make your choice, Dukat. What devotion sings loudest? Vengeance for a child that did not live or greater glory for your world and your species?”
The priest felt a stab of fear as he saw something harden in Dukat’s eyes, and he wondered if he had gone too far; but then the soldier’s tightened fists fell open and he turned away.
Hadlo sighed. “I regret the passing of your child. I promise I will dedicate a prayer to Oralius in his memory.”
Dukat turned back to throw him a look, his hooded eyes glittering. “We will talk of this again, priest. And on that day, your faith will not protect you.”
Evening was drawing in as Gar Osen wandered the ornamental gardens, turning the events of the day over in his mind. At the side of the reflecting pool, he saw a familiar figure, the sky-blue robes closed around Bennek as the Cardassian leaned over the shimmering surface, peering into the depths.
The alien cleric looked up as he approached. “Brother Gar. Hello.”
Gar smiled tightly. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with the Oralian’s way of addressing the Bajoran clergy. “Bennek. I had thought you would be preparing for tomorrow.” He nodded at the distant construction. “You are joining Hadlo on his inspection of the enclave site, I believe?”
“I am.” The Cardassian seemed weary. Gar understood; it had been a busy few weeks. Part of him was still reeling. Barely a month ago, the offworlders had seemed little more than a distant idea, something that other people spoke of second-or thirdhand. Now they were here, on Bajor, and it seemed they would not be leaving anytime soon. “It’s so peaceful here,” Bennek said wistfully. “I cannot think of a place where I have ever felt such spirituality.” He looked back at the pool. “Cardassia has nothing to match this, Gar. As much as I love my homeworld, it has become a hostile place for our beliefs. I relish the chance to engage the Way in a place where I can honestly think upon it…instead of listening with fear for the sound of our persecutors’ footfalls.”
“I am glad we can help you…” Gar said warily. “The kai believes we can learn much from one another.”
Bennek nodded. “I have spoken to my brethren on Cardassia Prime. Pilgrim ships are being prepared. They will come to seek knowledge…” His voice dropped. “And perhaps, a small measure of sanctuary.”
How many? The question leapt to the front of Gar’s mind, but before he would voice it the alien came forward with one of his own.
“What would you do, Prylar, if your faith were in danger? If the Prophets were being threatened?”
Gar blinked at the sudden intensity of the query, and he answered without thinking, from the heart. “My faith is greater than I am. I would do whatever I had to do to protect it.”
Bennek looked up, and Gar could see his eyes were fixed on the distant site of the enclave. “Yes,” he whispered, “as shall I.
”
FIVE YEARS AGO
2323 (Terran Calendar)
8
“My client categorically denies all charges.” The words were firm and clear, and they carried across the courtroom to Darrah Mace as he slipped quietly through the door.
The speaker was a thin, austere woman; she was of that indeterminate approaching-middle-age that Mace found so hard to pin down. Bajoran females got older in different ways than their men, and even after his years in the police service Darrah was never comfortable when he was called upon to guess a woman’s age. He usually ended up offending someone.
It was warm inside the windowless room; they were a level below the entrance atrium of the Korto City Watch Precinct, sandwiched between the duty offices and the holding cells below. In theory, the building kept all the city’s law and order operations under one roof; in practice, it was inadequate to the task. The poor ventilation was just one of the reasons Darrah didn’t venture down here that much. Since rising up the ranks to inspector status, there wasn’t often call for it. He needed a good reason to be here; and today his good reason sat in the dock, looking equally angry and mournful.
The public defender continued, and as she did so Darrah placed her face. Els Renora. She was an acid, waspish sort, but she did her job well. “I would point out to the court that scans of Captain Syjin’s ship revealed no traces of the materials he was accused of transporting. At best, what we have is circumstantial evidence of an alleged crime backed up by hearsay.” She drew herself up. “I move for a dismissal.”
A squat Cardassian got to his feet from the prosecution’s bench and wandered past the magistrate, gesturing at the air. “All those scans prove is that the accused is very good at cleaning up his vessel.” The alien lawyer sniffed. “The fact remains. Quantities of maraji crystals were found in the domiciles of pilgrims at the Korto Enclave. When questioned, they positively identified this man as the trader who provided them.”
“I’m a freighter captain, not a drug dealer!” Syjin snapped, his voice high and tight. “I never touch that kind of cargo!” He bared his teeth. “And I know the law! That stuff isn’t illegal on Bajor anyway, not that I would carry it, because I wouldn’t!”
The prosecutor gave him a sideways look. “No. But it is illegal in the Cardassian Union, and according to the terms of the alliance between our two worlds, the enclaves are classed as Cardassian territory, where our legal codes apply.”
Els shot Syjin a glare. “Be quiet,” she told him, “you’re not helping.”
“I counter the defense’s request with a demand that Syjin feel the full weight of that law and be turned over to Cardassian authorities for legal processing.” The prosecutor paused, letting that sink in. “I ask the magistrate this: Are you really willing to damage the goodwill that has built up between Cardassia and Bajor over the last five years for the sake of an untrustworthy—”
Syjin started to complain, but Els silenced him with a curt gesture.
“—and petty delinquent with a record of many criminal infractions? Release him to Cardassian justice, and the truth will be determined swiftly and immediately.”
The woman faced her opponent. “I think we’ve all heard about the swiftness of Cardassian justice,” she said coldly. “But Captain Syjin is a Bajoran, and this is a matter for Bajorans to resolve.”
The magistrate, a heavyset woman with dark skin and a mane of gray hair, regarded Syjin severely. “Your point it well-taken, Ms. Els, but the conservator is correct. The captain has a record of many minor infractions, up to and including the transportation of proscribed materials.”
“We’re talking about simple food items here, Magistrate,” said Els. “My client’s past infractions, the most recent of which occurred more than four years ago, were minor deeds that incurred fines, not the transit of highly addictive narcotics, and he has answered for those.”
“Nevertheless,” continued the magistrate, “unless there are mitigating circumstances—”
Darrah was on his feet and striding forward. “I’ll vouch for him.”
Syjin’s face flushed with relief, and his defender’s eyebrow arched. “Inspector Darrah Mace of the Korto City Watch,” noted Els. “A highly respected law officer.”
“And a personal friend of the captain,” said the Cardassian. “Hardly a neutral voice.”
Darrah ignored the alien and looked directly at the magistrate. “I’ve known this man since we were children. He’s had his issues with the law—the Prophets know, I’ve been the one to arrest him once or twice—but Syjin’s not that kind of smuggler. The sort of crime you’re describing—it’s beyond his character to perpetrate.”
“Then how do you propose we deal with this situation, Inspector?” asked the magistrate.
“At the very least, he should be incarcerated and his vessel dismantled,” snapped the conservator.
Darrah continued. “I recommend a full investigation. Captain Syjin may retain his master’s license for the interim, but he should be prohibited from leaving the system until a conclusion is reached. The Watch will have his vessel held in impound.”
“What?” Syjin bleated, but in the next second he realized that Darrah was saving him from life in a Cardassian penal facility, and he fell silent.
The magistrate mulled his words for a long moment. “Very well,” she nodded. “Inspector Darrah, I’m releasing Captain Syjin into the custody of the City Watch. If your investigation comes up empty, he will be free to return to his business. If not, then we will reconvene and discuss sentencing.” She stood up. “This hearing is concluded.”
In the corridor Els approached him, with Syjin following behind. The pilot’s face was flushed with emotion. “Thanks for the assist, Inspector,” said the woman. “He’s lucky he has friends like you to look out for him.”
“You think the Cardassians will keep pressing this?”
She shook her head. “They wanted a quick and clean conviction, someone to blame the misdeeds of their own people on. You denied them that, so I imagine this whole thing will quietly go away…just like the Oralians they caught with those crystals.” She said the word in a way that told Darrah she had little faith in the veracity of the Cardassian prosecution.
“Damn spoonheads…” Syjin bit out the words. “Why did they pick on me? All I did was bring in some cases of yamok sauce!” He ground his teeth. “Kosst, if they take my ship I’ll have nothing!”
“Calm down,” said Darrah. “You’re grounded for a while, that’s all.”
Syjin met his gaze, and he saw fury in his friend’s eyes. “I’d never touch that filth, Mace. You believe me, don’t you?”
“Of course I do, you idiot. Do you think I would have spoken up for you if I thought you were trafficking in drugs? I’d have sent you down myself!”
The shock and adrenaline of the moment made the pilot’s voice shaky. “I was a breath away from it. My own people would have given me up to the aliens, just to keep them happy! Is that how it is? Are the Cardassians making the law on Bajor now?”
Darrah and Els exchanged glances. Both of them had seen similar incidents recently, with the government backing down in favor of Cardassian interests when push came to shove. These days, it seemed more and more that the Union had a hand in things on Bajor. Darrah felt a stab of guilt; his own promotion and raises in pay had come in part from his work as security coordinator for the Korto Enclave. He placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Look, just be grateful. Go see Gar in the temple and thank the Prophets your luck is still holding.”
“I’ll do what I can to expedite the investigation,” added Els.
“Good—” Darrah’s words were cut off by the chime of his communicator. He tapped the badge. “This is Darrah, go ahead.”
“Boss, it’s me.” Proka Migdal’s voice grumbled from the air. “You wanted me to remind you about the pickup.”
Darrah frowned. “So I did. Thank you, Constable. Darrah out.” He glanced at Els and Syjin. “I’ve g
ot to get to Ashalla, I’m handling Minister Jas’s protection detail today.”
Syjin took his hand and squeezed it. “Thanks, Mace. I’ll make this up to you, I swear it.”
Darrah gave his friend a nod. “You can count on that.”
The flyer was on the primary pad out behind the precinct building, and Proka had ensured that it was prepped and ready to go. Two officers from the constable’s division were already aboard, running last-second security checks. Unlike Darrah’s ochre tunic, they wore lighter shades, and each man had a dermal induction communicator adhered to a spot on their mastoid bone; the device allowed the bodyguards to keep both hands free while still in contact with the police comm net. Darrah slipped into the pilot’s chair and cleared his flight plan, taking the aircraft up in a swift vertical climb.
The flyer was quick off the mark, far more speedy than the older model aeros he had piloted after first joining Korto’s Watch. He glanced at the thruster controls and saw the circular operator pads that were distinctive of Cardassian-made technology. Ion thrusters, impulse drives, and warp engines were among the most popular imports from the Union. An indicator flashed on his panel, and Darrah eased the throttle bar forward, guiding the police flyer around in a half loop to turn it eastward, toward the Perikian Mountains and the capital city beyond.
Korto flashed past underneath, the sharp silver towers and the low golden domes catching the midday rays of B’hava’el. Darrah drifted to the edge of the flight corridor, humming over the open parks and the square emerald patches of the municipal lakes. The outer districts thinned and they passed the city limits; then a few moments later the flyer was nearing the Cardassian enclave. Immediately, a traffic warning signal blinked on Darrah’s panel, informing him to divert around the airspace over the area. Of course, as a law officer Darrah could have legally entered the zone without needing any of the clearances required of a civilian flyer, but without a good cause he would find himself up on charges for doing so.
Star Trek Terok Nor 01: Day of the Vipers Page 17
