Star Trek: Deep Space Nine - 057 - Fearful Symmetry

by Olivia Woods

  “Sure it is,” Etana said. “Why else would anyone willingly stay half-paralyzed if not to make some ass-brained point?”

  Ro felt herself breathing hard. She braced herself against the console, fighting down the anguish that demanded release.

  Etana’s voice was soft, concerned. “Laren, what the kosst is going on with you?”

  The truth of her inner turmoil forced its way from her teeth. “I liked him,” she whispered.

  “Who?” Etana asked.

  Ro bowed her head. “Taran’atar,” she confessed. “He was always-himself. I don’t know how else to explain it. He wasn’t trying to assimilate, to become more like the rest of us. He was trying to be a new kind of Jem’Hadar-a better one-despite never having a clue about how to go about it. He just had faith that, by sending him here, Odo was giving him an opportunity to figure it out…. I couldn’t help but admire that about him.” Ro squeezed her eyes shut against the memories, as if by doing so she could shut them out. “And the thing is, I really believed that-in his own way-he felt the same about us. About me. Now someone has turned him into a weapon. People are dead…and I don’t know how any of that can be made right again.” She raised her tear-streaked face to Etana. “But I have to do something, Kol, and this is all I know.”

  For a long time, Etana didn’t say anything, and Ro was afraid to imagine what she must have been thinking. But when Etana finally did speak, it was in the voice of a friend. “Look, I’ll make a deal with you. Let me help you with your physical therapy-and I mean regularly, every day. You start taking better care of yourself, and I’ll assist you with the investigation. I’ll help with the research, I’ll be your sounding board-“

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know I don’t, but I want to.”

  “And how are you gonna clear that with Tarses?”

  Etana shrugged and offered her a lopsided grin. “I’ll just tell him you’re crazy, that I’m the only person who can deal with you. He’ll believe that.”

  “Yeah, he probably will,” Ro mused. “But I can’t let you do this. It isn’t fair to you, it isn’t fair to Krissten, it’s why you got out of-“

  “You don’t need to worry about that. Kris and I are fine,” Etana assured her. “Laren, I just want to help you. I shouldn’t have to beg.”

  Ro lowered her eyes, sighing in resignation. “Thank you, Kol.”

  “All right, then,” Etana said and set the padd aside. “Let’s get started.”

  Vaughn stared into his unfinished brandy, imagining that the walls of his quarters were pressing in against him. On several occasions throughout his career, he’d been in circumstances where he’d been trapped, physically. Sometimes his confinement had been painful, sometimes terrifying, sometimes merely dull, but always he’d had the hope of escape to buoy his spirits, to keep him from sinking into complete despair.

  This was different. Many hours had gone by since Sisko had paid his impromptu visit, and Vaughn’s doubt had escalated with every passing second. The promise he had made, the course of action to which he had committed himself, would conceivably carry a heavy price, personally and professionally. Yet from what Sisko had told him, the alternative was unthinkable.

  To make matters worse, he would be flying practically blind, on little more than faith. Even that wasn’t too bad; although it was never desirable, Vaughn had been compelled to carry out missions on little or no information before. At times he’d even been forced to look fellow officers in the face and lie to them in order to save lives. But again…this was different.

  He was still staring into his brandy an hour later when the call he’d been expecting finally came.

  “Incoming transmission from U.S.S. Yolja,” the station’s computer announced.

  “Put it though,” Vaughn said.

  “Vaughn, this is Kira.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I’ll come right to the point, Commander. You and I have a great deal to talk about, but unfortunately now simply isn’t the time. Are you ready to return to duty?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good. Lieutenant Dax will bring you up to speed. Report to ops at the start of alpha shift tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes, Captain. Thank you.”

  Kira signed off and Vaughn closed his eyes, unable to escape the fact that some lies, especially lies of omission, were simply unforgivable.

  7

  “I t must have been very difficult to endure,” Cenn began, addressing his four prisoners through the forcefield barriers of their cells. As much as he loathed Deep Space 9 as the site of so much Bajoran suffering during the occupation, he had to admit to having developed a grudging appreciation for the design of the holding areas: three cells, each with a clear view into the other two. He’d had the two females placed in the center cell, and split up the males on either end, facing each other. Until today, Cenn had been keeping all the prisoners isolated from one another and under guard in makeshift cells mid-core. The divide-and-conquer tactic had allowed him to weed out the hired guns from the rest with relative ease. Bringing the remaining four together for the first time since their capture-now that Cenn knew what they had in common, thanks to Quark-would make them wonder how much Cenn really knew, or if they’d been singled out because one among them had talked. Cenn intended to use that uncertainty to his advantage.

  “Endure?” the Lissepian asked. He was tall, gray, and massive in frame, with small eyes that peered at Cenn from a bony, oversized head.

  “The way your leader fled with her new Jem’Hadar friend,” Cenn said. “Being discarded like that the moment someone better, stronger, more resourceful comes along-that has to sting…especially after all you’d been through together.”

  The Efrosian scoffed. “You don’t know anything.” The shimmering white hair for which her kind was well-known was cropped short. Small, intricate designs were tattooed at the outer corners of her reflective irises.

  “Be silent, Fellen,” the Romulan hissed. The perpetual scowl on his angular features lent him an air of menace far greater than any of the others.

  “I know a few things,” Cenn said, addressing the Efrosian directly. “For example, as a Bajoran, I know something of the kind of brutality Cardassians are capable of, especially to people who aren’t of their species. Everyone else is inferior to them, isn’t that how they think? And if you run afoul of their justice system-well, that’s got to be the worst.” His prisoners glanced uncomfortably at each other, and he continued. “The brutality and degradation, the denial of your dignity as a sentient being-I can’t imagine anything more horrible than being held in a Cardassian prison.”

  The Lissepian’s lips curled back, exposing large, carnivorous teeth. “It sounds terrible,” he sneered. “Perhaps we should be thankful to have landed in the custody of newly-Federated Bajor.”

  Cenn smiled. “Oh, don’t thank me yet. There’re still the extradition questions that need to be sorted out. But what I’m wondering is-“

  “What do you mean, ‘extradition’?” the Efrosian said, moving closer to the forcefield. The blue light of the emitters dulled her deep tan skin.

  “Oh, that’s right. You don’t know what’s been happening since word got around about your capture,” Cenn said. “It seems that in addition to your suspected complicity in the murder of more than two hundred seventy Bajorans, the Cardassians are petitioning for you to be handed over to them for suspected acts of piracy, theft, illegal trafficking, not to mention a long list of other charges. Then, of course, there’re the Romulans….”

  “What about them?” the Romulan demanded.

  Cenn shrugged. “They’re a bit irritated with Starfleet for violating their protectorate in Cardassian space to go after your employer’s Jem’Hadar friend. Plus, neither they nor the Cardassians were happy to find out that your group was operating right under their noses all this time. It’s quite an embarrassment for both of them, frankly.” Cenn looked over his shoulder as if to make sure
no one else was listening, then said, “Just between us, I don’t think the Romulans have much of a claim over the lot of you. But it may be that just to avoid two diplomatic incidents-especially if we can’t prove your involvement in the Sidau deaths-one of you will have to be remanded to Romulan authority, while the rest are turned over to the Cardassians.”

  “You vile piece of-” The Efrosian’s enraged scream cut off abruptly as she collided with the forcefield. She stumbled back against her cell’s bench, panting and cursing. “I’ll kill you-you and your false captain. I’ll kill you for Kira.”

  Cenn kept his face expressionless, and for the first time, the Kressari spoke, moving in quickly to calm her cellmate. “Hush, Fellen. Just breathe.”

  “I can’t go back to a Cardassian prison, Shing, I can’t!”

  “Shhh,” the Kressari said soothingly, stroking her shimmering white hair. “Don’t worry. He won’t give us to the Cardassians.”

  “But-“

  “Remember your vow. Focus on that.”

  The prisoners fell silent, and Cenn considered his next move. The Efrosian was clearly the weak link, but there was a real danger of his strategy backfiring if he pushed her too far. He needed to start cracking the resolve of one of the males. “So you all took a vow to remain loyal to your leader,” he said to the Romulan. “I can respect that. It says to me that you all share a belief in something bigger than yourselves. I suppose that quality is what enabled you to survive all those years on Letau and what’s held you together since then. Is that where you met Iliana Ghemor?”

  The Romulan looked bewildered, and again the usually quiet Kressari spoke up, cutting off her compatriot’s response. “Ignore him. He’s trying to divide us.”

  She knows, Cenn realized. But the others don’t. Cenn stayed focused on the Romulan. “Your name is Telal, correct? You used to be an assassin for hire, wanted by the Cardassians, the Federation, the Klingons, even your own people.”

  “You left out the Talarians and Breen,” Telal said. “Who is Iliana Ghemor?”

  “I said ignore him!” the Kressari shouted.

  “You don’t command me, Shing-kur,” answered Telal. “None of you does. I’ve had enough of this madness. Of her madness. None of this was part of the plan.”

  “You are a fool, Telal,” the Lissepian said. “You always were.”

  Cenn turned to him. “Mazagalanthi, isn’t it? You were a smuggler by trade, specializing in the trafficking of classified technology. Telal is a fool, is that what you said? Do you think that because he seems to have become fed up with covering for your absent leader? Then what does that make the rest of you? The one you followed lied to you, abandoned you, and some of you seem to think you still owe her your loyalty.”

  “She never lied! She saved us!” Fellen shouted.

  “She let you believe she was Kira Nerys,” Cenn said calmly.

  “She is Kira Nerys!”

  Cenn shook his head. “No. She isn’t. She isn’t even Bajoran.” He turned to the Romulan. “Her name is Iliana Ghemor. She’s a Cardassian, an exagent of the Obsidian Order who was altered to look and think like she was Kira Nerys. You swore your allegiance to a lie.” Cenn nodded toward Shing-kur. “And she knew it all along.”

  Fellen was shaking her head fiercely. “You’re the liar. Or the fool. Your captain is the impostor.” She turned to the Kressari. “Shing, tell him…”

  The Kressari said nothing.

  “Shing-kur,” rumbled Mazagalanthi. “He’s telling us the truth. Isn’t he?”

  The Kressari sighed and seemed to withdraw into herself. She folded her coarse, tree-bark arms, clutching her elbows with each hand.

  Telal looked at Cenn. “I want to make a deal.”

  “As do I,” Mazagalanthi said.

  “Shing,” Fellen whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. “Shing, why?”

  The Kressari looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  Cenn heard a click as Shing-kur pressed her thumb into the soft flesh at the crook of her elbow, and all at once, her compatriots began to convulse.

  Oh, for fire’s sake-Cenn slapped his combadge as the aliens collapsed almost as one. “Cenn to infirmary! Medical emergency in security holding area two! Three humanoids down!”

  Shing-kur was looking at him, calmly shaking her head. “It’s too late.”

  The summons had come while Ghemor was in Kira’s office. The captain had apparently come by some persuasive information since their last meeting and now believed that Ghemor was telling the truth. She hadn’t revealed what that information was, or how she’d come by it, but Ghemor had her suspicions.

  Even so, Kira remained reluctant to consider an incursion into Ghemor’s universe, or to allow her to return there yet. The Bajoran made a good argument against such action; her people were still trying to build a functional copy of Smiley’s cursed invention, and her Ferengi engineer was actually close to setting up a comlink with Terok Nor. If they could establish contact with the rebels, Kira would at least have a better idea of what awaited them on the other side.

  When security had alerted the captain to the incident in the holding cells, Kira surprised Ghemor by asking her to come along. “I want to trust you” was her answer to Ghemor’s questioning look, as the lift took them from ops to the security office. “I want to believe you when you say that we share the same objectives, that your stake in this is as great as mine. If that’s true, then we need to start helping each other.”

  The tension was palpable as the turbolift doors opened onto the Promenade. Guards were holding back curious civilians as three body bags were gurneyed out of security by the medical staff. Dr. Bashir and the interim security officer, Major Cenn, were waiting for Kira inside the office as the captain marched out of the lift toward them, Ghemor following close behind.

  “Report,” Kira said.

  “Three dead,” Bashir informed her. “Cause of death is unconfirmed, but my preliminary scans show the presence of a powerful neurotoxin in each of their brains. It was probably stored in some type of organic implant prior to release. My guess is that it was almost instantly fatal. I’ll know more after I conduct the autopsies.”

  “Thanks, Doctor. Carry on,” Kira said. Once Bashir was gone, she turned to Cenn. “What happened, Major?”

  The tall Bajoran seemed hesitant at first to speak in front of Ghemor, but Kira’s direct question overrode his natural caution. “It was the Kressari, sir. She had some sort of triggering device implanted in her arm. She used it to activate something in each of her associates that was obviously meant to kill them if they talked too much.”

  “You witnessed that?” Kira asked.

  “Yes, Captain. It all happened so fast-“

  “Why didn’t you know about the toxins, or the kill switch? Weren’t the prisoners scanned when they were processed?”

  “It wasn’t meant to be found,” Ghemor offered, saving Cenn from further embarrassment. “The Obsidian Order perfected the art of concealing body implants from scanning devices, masking them so they appear to be part of the surrounding organism, unless you know what to look for. There’s no way any of you could have known. It’s likely the victims didn’t know about it, either.”

  “You’re saying your counterpart put those devices in her own lieutenants, without their knowledge?” Kira asked.

  “It’s what I would have done,” Ghemor admitted as she crossed her arms. “What I find interesting, however, is that this Kressari was entrusted with the kill switch, but that she herself didn’t die along with the others.”

  Kira turned back to Cenn. “What did you learn about her, Major?”

  “Her name is Shing-kur. She used to be an independent bioresearch scientist living on one of the border colonies in the old Demilitarized Zone. By all accounts, she’s something of a genius. Until the end of the Dominion War, she’d spent five years in the Cardassian prison on Letau. It was there that she met the people she just murdered. She knows that the other Kira is r
eally Iliana Ghemor, but she was concealing that information from the others. In fact, they seemed to be under the impression that you’re the impostor, Captain. They were all zealously devoted to their Kira-up to a point, at least. It isn’t clear to me what she did to merit their loyalty, but Shing-kur-Well, if those other three were the lieutenants, then I’m betting she was Iliana Ghemor’s right hand.”

  Not bad. “What’s her condition?” Ghemor asked, finding herself admiring Cenn’s black hair and high cheekbones. For a Bajoran, he wasn’t that ugly.

  “Withdrawn,” Cenn said, pointedly ignoring her and directing his answer instead at Kira. “She’s been unresponsive since she killed her friends. I have her on suicide watch, but if she has one of those implants, I’m not sure there’s anything we could do to stop her from using it.”

  “There must be a reason she hasn’t released the neurotoxin into herself yet,” Ghemor suggested.

  “Maybe she’s just a coward,” Cenn said, sounding annoyed.

  “I don’t think so,” said Ghemor. “If she’s still alive, it’s because she has unfinished business.” She turned to Kira. “We should speak to her. Together.”

  The captain’s eyes narrowed. “You think it’ll spook her,” she guessed.

  Ghemor nodded toward Cenn. “If your man is right, and her devotion to my counterpart is fanatical, then there probably isn’t a better way to throw her off balance.”

  Kira nodded thoughfully. “All right. We’ll try it.”

  “I’ll need to borrow your tricorder,” Ghemor said, addressing Cenn.

  The major looked at Kira, who nodded, and Cenn warily handed Ghemor the scanning device holstered at the waist of his gray uniform.

  “Thank you,” Ghemor said sweetly. “I’ll be sure to bring it right back.”

  Cenn nodded brusquely.

  Ghemor reluctantly turned away and followed Kira through the door that led to the holding areas. “Were you flirting with him?” the captain whispered.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Ghemor said. “He was flirting with me.”

  Shing-kur looked up at them as they approached. She sat on the bench in her cell, her posture relaxed. Her textured face made her expression difficult for Kira to read, but the Kressari’s eyes darkened noticeably when they focused on her visitors.