by Olivia Woods
“Are you all right, Captain?” Julian asked.
“I’m fine,” Kira said sharply, turning to face him, Dax, and Nog, whom she had summoned to a hastily convened meeting in the security chief’s cabin. “I’m not prepared to undertake an incursion into the alternate universe without provocation, and certainly not on this woman’s say-so. What we need is someone who can corroborate her story. She claims to be working with Smiley’s rebellion. We need a way to contact them.” Kira zeroed in on her chief of operations. “We already know how to transport over there. It must be possible to establish communication between our two universes.”
Nog blinked in surprise, then slowly nodded. “It may be. We still have the specs Chief O’Brien made from his analysis of Smiley’s dimensional transport module. If I can adapt its quantum targeting system to our subspace array, I should be able to home in on her continuum, then establish a two-way realtime audiovisual lock with Terok Nor. It’ll take time, though, Captain. Maybe a couple of days.”
“Get to work on it immediately, then.”
“Aye, Captain.” Nog gave her a sharp nod and left the cabin.
“What do you want to do with our visitor?” Dax asked.
“Nothing,” Kira said. “At least, not until we can reach the rebels on Terok Nor.”
“You don’t plan to continue questioning her?” Bashir asked.
“I don’t trust her, Julian. She obviously knows much more than she’s saying, and she’s giving up only scraps of information at a time. She’s playing some game, and I’m not allowing it to continue until I’ve figured out exactly what it is.”
Dax cleared her throat. “Captain, if I may suggest, Commander Vaughn has considerable experience in this area. He may be able to-“
“Commander Vaughn isn’t available.”
“But, Captain-“
“Let it go, Ezri,” Kira said, keeping her voice gentle but firm.
Dax forced down further protests, but just barely. She wished that whatever was going on between Kira and Vaughn would resolve itself soon. There was a dangerous climate building aboard the station-an unspoken feeling that everything was coming apart-and Dax, even in her capacity as acting X.O., was feeling powerless to combat it.
“Captain, this doesn’t make sense,” Ro said suddenly.
Everyone turned to look at the chief of security, hunched over the abusurdly wide interface console with its multiple monitors. It made Dax wonder why Ro needed the huge viewscreen standing behind her, especially considering that it had been dark since their arrival.
The officers stepped around the console to get a look at what was perplexing the chief of security. The monitor displayed what Dax recognized immediately as a classified report from Bajoran Intelligence. “What doesn’t make sense, Lieutenant?” Kira asked.
“I’ve been reviewing the records of your abduction by the Obsidian Order six years ago, and I’m finding several items that just don’t add up.” Ro tapped the monitor. “According to this, Corbin Entek’s plan to convince you that you were really Iliana Ghemor was set in motion when Alenis Grem of the Bajoran Central Archives contacted you to ask about a seven-day period, ten years prior, when you were supposedly incarcerated at Elemspur Detention Center.”
“That’s right.”
“The report further notes that, using the information from the archives, Security Chief Odo subsequently tracked down someone who at that time was believed to be your only surviving cellmate at Elemspur, one Yeln Arvam. This Yeln claimed to recognize you from the detention center, which made you curious enough to go investigate Elemspur firsthand and gave Entek’s people the opportunity they needed to kidnap you.”
“Yes, and Yeln had disappeared by the time I was rescued from Cardassia. The investigation wasn’t conclusive, but it was believed that Yeln himself was a Cardassian agent planted on Bajor to help carry out the deception. There was some speculation he was even the one who altered the archive records.” Kira was growing irritated; she obviously didn’t appreciate being reminded of how utterly duped she’d been. “What’s your point, Ro?”
“My point, Captain, is that there’s no evidence the archive records were ever altered in any way. Don’t get me wrong-it wasn’t an unreasonable assumption given what little was known. But as you say, the investigation was inconclusive, and the lack of corroborating evidence led to what I now believe was some flawed speculation about what actually happened.”
The captain scowled, and Dax recalled Odo’s irritation at having the investigation taken away from him by Bajoran Intelligence following Kira’s return to the station. She remembered that he hadn’t been happy with their final report, either, and made his feelings known to Kira, wanting to launch an investigation of his own. But by that time Nerys had wanted to put the whole ugly business behind her and rejected his offer, telling him she was satisfied with BI’s findings and considered the matter closed. Odo hadn’t pressed, respecting her wishes but clearly unhappy with her decision.
Now, six years after the fact, Ro was confirming that Odo’s instincts had been right all along. But if that was true…
“What are you saying?” Julian asked. “That Captain Kira really was at Elemspur, despite the fact that she has no memory of it?”
“I don’t know,” Ro said. “All I can tell you is that unless the archive records were altered in such a way that the tampering remains completely undetectable, they appear to be authentic. Then there’s Yeln Arvam himself to consider.”
“What about him?” Kira asked.
In response, Ro touched a control and activated another monitor, bringing up an occupation-era image of a young man with thick black hair and small eyes. “This image was taken twenty years ago. Is this the man you spoke to?”
Kira studied the familiar face. “It looks like him, yes.”
“Well, it isn’t. The one you spoke to was definitely an impostor.”
“And you know that because…?”
“Because the real Yeln-this mandied at Elemspur Detention Center almost four years after this image was taken…during the exact week you were supposed to have been there.”
“The records show that?”
“Yes, and they’re supported by DNA samples the Militia collected when the mass graves at Elemspur were unearthed shortly after the end of the occupation.”
“All right, so the Order didn’t invent him,” Dax said. “That doesn’t prove the captain was there too.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Julian agreed. “But if the archive files were altered, why bother to re-create Yeln Arvam? They could have invented anyone.”
“Exactly,” Ro said. “That suggests to me that the Order stuck as closely to the truth as possible when they put their operation together. And if that’s true, then we need to ask what else was presented to then-Major Kira that was also true.”
Kira paced the room, thinking. “He knew about the hara cat.”
Dax’s brow furrowed. “Captain?”
“Entek,” Kira said. “On Cardassia, while he was still trying to convince me that I was really Iliana Ghemor, he reminded me about a hara cat I once killed during the occupation, after I mistook it for a Cardassian soldier. It was a…difficult moment in my life, something I’d never told anyone. Entek said it was just a memory the Order had put in my head. He’d already showed me a preserved corpse that looked like me, the way I did during my days in the resistance. I knew it had to be a fake, but then when he told me he knew about the hara cat, I started to doubt myself. Even after Julian proved medically that it was all a lie-that I was Bajoran and always had been-I still wondered how Entek could have known about the hara cat.”
“Maybe Ro’s right, and Entek told you the truth-up to a point,” Dax speculated. “Maybe it was something he had imprinted in your mind when you were being surgically altered to look Cardassian. He could then use it against you at a moment of his choosing, present it as ‘proof’ of his story.”
“Maybe,” Kira said. “But what if it was a re
al memory? What if Entek knew about it not because he fabricated it, but because it was one of the memories he transferred to Iliana sixteen years ago? What if I really was at Elemspur?”
Julian shook his head. “Another fine byzantine plot courtesy of the Obsidian Order.”
“Except we still don’t have any concrete evidence,” Dax said. “Anyone who might be able to confirm these conclusions is long dead.”
Ro glanced knowingly at Julian, and after a moment, he looked at Kira and Dax, a smile spreading across his handsome face. “Not everyone,” he said.
“Really, Doctor,” Garak said from Ro’s comm screen. “Flattering as I find your faith in me, I’m afraid that in this case you severely overestimate the depth of my inside knowledge into the Order’s activities during my exile.”
The difficult year Garak had lived on postwar Cardassia was etched deeply into his face, Kira thought. He’d lost weight, and his hair, black since she’d met him, was turning gray. Part of her was surprised he’d made himself available to answer their inquiries when Bashir had attempted to reach him. But despite-or perhaps because of-his tireless work helping restore his devastated homeworld, the man who once claimed to be nothing more than a simple tailor seemed almost to welcome the momentary distraction the doctor was now offering him.
“I don’t think I’ve ever overestimated anything about you, Garak,” Bashir answered. “You never made a secret of the fact that you still had contacts in the Order during that time, tipping you off to things the organization was up to. You admitted as much when you came to me with your information about Major Kira’s abduction.”
“Yes,” Garak acknowledged, looking chagrined, “for the all the good it did me. Blackmailed by Commander Sisko into returning to Cardassia, an almost certain death sentence, only to find myself in the awkward position of being forced to kill a former associate.”
“Not to mention extracting a leading member of the dissident movement,” the doctor reminded him.
“I found the whole affair quite embarrassing.”
“But why get involved in the first place?” Bashir asked, folding his arms. “You had nothing to gain by informing us of Kira’s kidnapping.”
Garak smiled. “Are you suggesting that my innate sense of gallantry wasn’t motive enough?”
“And currying favor with Sisko never interested you until Cardassia allied itself with the Dominion,” Bashir went on, ignoring Garak’s attempts to deflect him. Kira was impressed; Julian was obviously long past the point of letting Garak get away with that. “You knew about the plot against Legate Ghemor from the beginning, didn’t you? And by telling us about it, you effectively set in motion your own little counter-op, knowing Commander Sisko would try to rescue Major Kira and, in the process, save the legate. You were trying to help the dissidents.”
Garak’s smile widened. “I always said you had a vivid imagination, Doctor.”
“Well, I have you to thank for that, don’t I?”
“And you’re most welcome.”
“So assuming you knew about Entek’s plan all along,” Dax cut in, “what do you know about Iliana Ghemor?”
“Not as much as the captain would like to know, I fear.”
“What the hell does that mean, Garak?” Kira said.
“It means that the Obsidian Order’s most effective weapon has always been the truth, especially when they could make that truth appear to be a lie. And in this instance, the truth is that Iliana Ghemor was indeed sent on a mission to replace you exactly as Entek described it, and that you were indeed at Elemspur.”
“Garak, this doesn’t make sense,” Kira said. “If there was someone with my face on Bajor all these years, don’t you think someone would have noticed it?”
“Most certainly, Captain. Which, particularly in the context of your current situation, forces us to conclude that wherever Operative Ghemor was all these years, it was not Bajor.”
“Where, then?”
“That I don’t know, which leads me to believe that no one in the Order knew what became of her, either. Not even the late, lamented Corbin Entek.”
The alternate Iliana’s claim came back to haunt her. “Dukat,” Kira said, expelling the name like a curse.
Garak’s head tilted fractionally to one side. “What an intriguing notion, Captain. A pity you have no way of testing that hypothesis; I would be extremely interested in the results. Still, I won’t shed any tears over it. Will you?”
Kira eyed Garak carefully, her mouth spreading into a smile. “Thanks for the suggestion,” she said. “You know, it’s funny…Tekeny Ghemor once warned me that I should never trust you, Garak.”
“The legate was an excellent judge of character.”
“Not always. Take care.”
Garak nodded to her and vanished from the screen, replaced by the Federation Seal.
“What was that all about?” Dax asked.
Kira was already marching toward the door. “I have to go to Bajor.”
“You’re going to Elemspur?” Ro asked.
“I am going to find out the truth,” Kira said, “wherever it leads me.”
4
Major Cenn Desca strode into the Ferengi bar against his better judgment, and in doing so he caught himself wondering, not for the first time, just what the kosst he’d gotten himself into.
On Bajor, as a Militia officer under the direct command of General Lenaris Holem himself, Cenn had always been in his element, dealing with domestic security issues ranging from conducting forensic analyses and criminal profiling to participating in field operations that had exposed underground enclaves of nihilistic Pahwraith cultists and rooted out occasional resurgences of the Circle. Living and working aboard the space station, by contrast, while no more complicated in Cenn’s estimation than life on Bajor, was nevertheless…well, weirder by several orders of magnitude. From the dizzying and ever-present complement of aliens, to the bizarre histories of its most prominent residents, to the frequent nearby manifestations of the Celestial Temple itself, being on Deep Space 9 often felt like the surreal consequences of a night spent drinking far too much copal.
So it wasn’t without some measure of irony that he found himself entering Quark’s, which seemed to function as the station’s raucous hub of social activity. He’d been scrupulously avoiding the place since his arrival two months ago, and it was only today, as he decided to take a working lunch during his investigation of the Harkoum mercenaries, that he realized how tired he’d grown of taking his meals from replicators. Unfortunately, the Promenade’s Bajoran restaurant was temporarily closed while the owners were planetside attending a wedding. Cenn didn’t think he was ready to try the Klingon restaurant, or any of the other alien eateries. Quark’s, however, having a real kitchen in addition to replicators, boasted a varied menu that included Bajoran dishes.
Unfortunately, Cenn seemed to have chosen a busy time of day for the self-styled “bar, grill, embassy, gaming house, and holosuite arcade”; every table was taken, even those on the second level. Paradoxically disappointed and relieved, Cenn started to go, resigning himself to yet another inadequately spiced ratamba stew from the Replimat…
“Hi, handsome. Get you anything?”
Cenn turned. Facing him was the shapely and diaphanously draped torso of the tallest woman he’d ever met-at least two meters. She was also green.
In his mind, Cenn answered, Well, I was looking for a vacant table, but you don’t seem to have one available. What came out of his mouth was, “Um…”
The woman smiled and took Cenn’s arm, leading him toward the bar. “You look hungry. Come have a seat over here and relax while I get you a menu. I’m Treir, by the way. How about a drink to get you started?”
“Um, sure…. Synthale?” Cenn said, managing to remember that he was still on duty.
“Coming right up.” Treir left him on a stool, next to a bald, broad-bodied alien with tiny ears, a small high-set nose, a wide downturned mouth, and no chin. The alien was nu
rsing a drink. He nodded to Cenn as the major sat down.
Treir reappeared on the other side of the bar with a full mug and a menu. “Here you go. If you’re looking for something Bajoran, it’s in the front. Personally, I recommend the foraiga. But if you have a sweet tooth, the tuwaly pie is absolutely decadent.”
“Foraiga sounds…wonderful,” Cenn said without looking at the menu, uncharacteristically mesmerized by the woman. Pheromones, maybe? Not that she wasn’t stunning, but he was usually a lot more subtle when he felt attracted to someone sexually.
“Good choice,” Treir said, taking back the menu. “It’ll be just a few minutes. Enjoy your drink while you wait, and don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything else.”
Cenn enjoyed watching her walk away before she disappeared into a back room. He leaned toward the alien sitting next to him. “Please tell me there aren’t more like her around here.”
The alien, who was in the middle of a long draft from an enormous stein, made a thumbs-down gesture and kept right on drinking.
“Thank the Prophets,” Cenn muttered. With Treir’s departure, he felt his head starting to clear and decided he would try to get some work done. He took out the padd tucked in his belt, turned it on, and considered, once again, the short list of names he’d assembled the night before.
Of the twenty-one mercenaries captured during the Defiant’s raid on Harkoum, seventeen had been remanded to Militia custody as of this morning and were on their way to Bajor. After days of researching their backgrounds and questioning each one individually, Cenn had concluded that the majority of them were not much more than hired guns with little useful information about their fugitive employer or her objectives. They had little to say of substance, but what they knew they gave up freely in the hope that it would earn them leniency from Bajoran authorities for whatever complicity they had in the deaths at Sidau, as well as the host of lesser charges the Federation would level against them for the various illegal activities they’d staged from Harkoum.
