Tales from the Captain's Table

by Keith R. A. DeCandido

  “And I, you. I feel as though I’ve waited a lifetime.” His voice was round and melodic, like tones pulled from the strings of a Trill cyn lara. “Come, my child. Sit on my lap and we will talk as we have before.” He dropped down onto a couch and patted his thighs with his hands.

  She moved fluidly across the room, draping her legs over his lap and curling into his shoulder.

  Imagining that Teara might be the double made the scene bearable to watch. Otherwise, the mere suggestion that Gundar found Teara’s childlike behavior titillating disturbed me; I shivered, disgusted at the depths of Cardassian perversity. Whatever Shakaar had planned for the glinn he deserved. Their giggles and whispers continued. I watched, bored by their small talk, wondering when—and if—Teara would reveal herself.

  She broke from Gundar’s embrace so she faced him straight-on. I couldn’t see what she was doing with her hands, but it looked like she reached into her jacket pocket to remove something. “I kept this for you since last time.”

  “What a lovely girl you are, to be so thoughtful,” Gundar said. “Hopefully I can repay your conscientiousness….”

  I ordered the computer to zoom in on Teara’s hand. She passed a medallion to Gundar—maybe a military honor of some sort. Teara’s behavior set off a warning beacon for me. I knew I’d seen what had just passed between Teara and Gundar before. Think, Nerys…. I sorted through hundreds of memories until I found a match.

  Years ago, in Hedrickspool, I’d been sent to retrieve a weapons shipment. The dealer was a mercenary Bajoran who preyed on the weaknesses of Cardassian supply clerks. When the arms merchant visited the weapons depot, he had removed an amulet from around his neck, flipped the back side up, and passed it to the clerk. Within minutes, the whole deal had fallen apart; I’d barely escaped with my life. I hadn’t thought about the event in ages, but now, as I replayed Teara’s behavior, I recognized the gesture for what it was: a signal. What precisely she told him, I couldn’t say, but I had my suspicions.

  I ordered the computer to focus on Gundar’s face: barely concealed panic.

  With haste, but quietly, I exited my hiding place, a supply closet on the suite floor. The computer kept the audio feed from the suite looped into my communication headset, so I focused intently on the conversation unfolding within. On the surface, the discussion seemed innocuous enough, but I could hear the tension in Gundar’s voice. What the hell is Teara up to? I paused outside the door, touched the weapon strapped to my thigh. Closing my eyes, I mentally ran through the possibilities of what I might find when I opened the door.

  I liked none of them.

  Here goes nothing…. I waved the all-access pass Reon had given me up to the security reader, drew my weapon from the hidden holster, and pivoted into the suite.

  Teara stood before me, phaser drawn. “Took you long enough. I thought I’d have to start the party without you.”

  “I prefer making a dramatic entrance.”

  She smirked. “Put down your weapon or I’ll kill Gundar. What use will he be to your cause then?”

  “You people never cease to amaze me. You’re right up there with the Romulans in terms of loyalty.”

  “I don’t know what you’re babbling about, but I’ll be damned if I let you destroy my life’s work.” Her flinty eyes narrowed to slits.

  I knew she wasn’t bluffing.

  An instant before she squeezed the trigger, I dove for her legs, sending her toppling to the floor. I pushed up from the ground. Her weapon had landed on the floor beside Gundar, who reached for it. I aimed my boot for his stomach, throwing him back against the wall, winded. Teara scrambled up onto her hands and knees. Both Teara and I reached for the phaser, but her tightly fitted tunic inhibited her progress. I reached the weapon first, slamming it with my fist, sending it skidding across the floor into the corner. Gundar coughed and sputtered, clutching at his stomach, collapsing onto the couch. Teara charged toward me; I opened my arms to catch her by the shoulders and force her head down.

  I wrapped my hands around Teara’s neck, squeezing her throat. She clawed at my wrists; I overpowered her, angling her neck and slamming her skull hard against a stone table. A stomach-twisting crack broke the silence. I watched Teara’s head swivel limply onto her shoulders as she toppled to the floor. I stood up and looked over at Gundar, who still wheezed like an invalid.

  “I didn’t kick you that hard, you big baby,” I snapped. “Get up. We’ve got to get out of here, and I’m not carrying you.”

  Though how I’d move Gundar out of the club compound without being noticed I’d yet to figure out. I searched the room for something I could use to secure Gundar’s hands and feet with, and finally settled on using his own weapons belt. While I knotted the leather strap, his limbs trembled incessantly. I used Teara’s scarf to gag him.

  This operation had gone down so quickly, I hadn’t even had time to signal Shakaar to let him know Gundar was on the way. Glancing over at Teara’s corpse, I wondered how Plin would take the news of her daughter’s death—never mind her betryal. When Teara had been kidnapped and doubled was unknown and might never be now. Asking Plin for help at this point could be risky. One last time, I had to trust Reon to help me escape the club.

  Minutes felt like hours until he arrived. I knew, though, as soon as he came through the door, that he’d conceived an ingenious solution for moving Gundar. He’d brought with him a food transport hovercart—about a meter and a half long and a meter tall. The servers used them to move food from the kitchens and replicator stations into the banquet areas. I quickly helped Reon empty out the cart’s interior. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched, amused, at Gundar’s fear playing out over his face. Reon removed a hypospray from his pocket and pressed it to Gundar’s neck. The Cardassian slumped over, passed out cold. Together, Reon and I managed to heft him off the couch and into the transport cart’s hollowed-out interior. Once Reon secured the lid on the top, I sighed, relieved. “Can he breathe?”

  “The cart’s designed to vent steam. He shouldn’t have a problem,” Reon said distractedly.

  I followed his gaze; he stared at Teara or Kayana or whoever she might have been. “I’m sorry, Reon.”

  “So am I,” he said. “Though I suppose I’m not entirely surprised. She’s been behaving strangely for a while now. I can only guess that she was doubled on one of our offworld supply trips.”

  “The real Teara might still be alive.”

  “You don’t believe that.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  He took a deep breath. “We’d better get going.”

  I nodded.

  “We probably shouldn’t travel to the shuttlebay together; I typically don’t accompany housemaids or servers on their duties. Though I don’t know how I’ll find you—” He paused, dropped his eyes to the ground, his brow furrowed in concentration, then abruptly looked back up. “I’ll activate the tracking device on your communication unit. I’ll monitor your progress from my office and catch up with you once you’re out of the way of regular club traffic.”

  “What about—” I jerked my head in the direction of the body.

  “I’ll take care of it,” he said softly.

  Using the service lifts, I made it out of the suite wing without incident. I then needed to clear the maintenance areas, pass through the lobby, and then move toward the transportation center. My gray Club staff uniform drew no notice from those around me. I did what hundreds of workers did every day, though part of me expected to be stopped and accused of murder at any moment.

  I’d killed for the resistance before, and more than a few of my kills had been premeditated; I wasn’t squeamish about dealing death. Why this time felt different I couldn’t say. I replayed my confrontation with Teara over and over as I walked until I realized what bothered me.

  Teara had never confessed to being the double.

  I had suspicions and fairly damning circumstantial evidence, but no absolute proof. Reon might be able to check her physiology
with one of his medical gadgets, but until then, there loomed a possibility in my mind—however slight—that I might have been wrong. Or not. As long as I met my mission objectives, did it matter?

  Wishing away the confusion, I closed my eyes. Turmoil seethed within me.

  Teara might have been framed.

  I might be heading for an ambush for myself or Shakaar.

  My chest tightened. Too many questions nagged at me; so much was at risk. I ducked into an alcove, out of hearing, and entered Plin’s page code into my comm unit.

  “Yes.”

  “Teara’s dead,” I whispered.

  Silence.

  “I killed her because I had reason to believe she was the double.”

  “You should have come to me, it didn’t have to end this—”

  “Listen—I might have been wrong. There’s a chance Teara was set up. You have to check the internal communication network and see who Gundar’s been talking to since he arrived.”

  “We shouldn’t be talking this way. Why don’t I meet you and we can do this together?”

  “I’m gone, Plin. The only reason we’re having this conversation is because I want justice.”

  I clicked off the com link and headed toward the lobby, picking up my pace. I had about a hundred and fifty meters before I reached the shuttlebay and had no time to waste.

  Before I moved Gundar through the public areas, I had the sense to stop at a replicator station and collect a few platters of Denobulan scallops and yamok sauce. Years of running ops for the resistance overcame my nerves. An almost nonstop internal monologue—reminding me to stay calm, keep the needs of the mission first—played in my head. Passing through the edge of the reception area, an inebriated officer pawed at one of the plates before lifting the whole tray of seafood off my cart. I smiled in acknowledgment and continued to move forward. Only a turbolift and a few passageways before Gundar would be boarded on a shuttlecraft headed for the resistance. Fifteen steps, fourteen steps…eight…three…

  Heart thudding in my throat, I guided the hovercart into the turbolift and ordered the door closed. I cleared my throat and said, “Shuttlebay.” A nearly imperceptible jerk and the turbolift started upward. The door parted soundlessly and I exited.

  Not surprisingly, the transport-center waiting area was desolate. The comings and goings of Club members ebbed and flowed with the shift changes on Doblana Base. Another few hours and I’d be hard-pressed to find a place to walk. I directed the cart past dozens of rows of empty chairs, my shoes clicking against the glossy stone-paved floors. A shadow darkened the wall. I paused. No one appeared. I continued moving forward until I reached the VIP boarding area. Using my security pass, I activated the doors and I stepped through.

  Reon waited for me. An amused half-smile crossed his lips as he glanced at the cart. “The scallops are a nice touch. I like your style.” He stood up. “If you’ll follow me through to the airlock to your shuttle, I’ll help you secure Gundar. You’ve contacted Shakaar to arrange the rendezvous?”

  I shook my head. “I’ll do that once the shuttle’s in flight.”

  “Can you risk waiting that long?” he said as we walked together.

  “I don’t have a choice.”

  “You do. If you want to go ahead and talk with the pilot, I’ll put Gundar in the holding area. We need to get out of here. Fast.”

  I sensed anxiety beneath the poise. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ll tell you once we’ve cleared Doblana’s defense grid.”

  I didn’t hear footsteps until we stood beside the airlock. I knew without looking that Plin was behind me. What the hell—

  “You decided to throw a going-away party without me. How unlike you, Kira!”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I wanted a witness to your betrayal, Reon. You set Teara up. Made it look like she was the double when she was really following your instructions. You’re not going to get away with it.”

  I turned to face him, forcibly ignoring the pain carving up my insides. Plin must have checked the internal communication records. I should have known. He never changed. I wanted so desperately to believe that he wasn’t a collaborator that I’d allowed him to deceive me.

  “I’ve got him covered.” Plin’s voice echoed through the waiting area. I heard her unsheathe her weapon.

  “So, Nerys, you’re back to believing that I’ve lived down to all your expectations.” Laughing bitterly, he took a step toward me, holding open his hands to show that he wasn’t armed. “Feeling morally superior to your collaborator brother about now, eh?”

  “You’ve always bailed out when circumstances became too hard.” Reon’s inscrutable expression made it impossible to guess what his next move would be. I spat on the ground. “Collaborator.”

  He flinched as if I’d struck him.

  Anxiously, Plin said, “We only have a brief time before the shift changes. Nerys—you take my weapon and I’ll secure Gundar in the shuttle hold.”

  I reached behind me to take the weapon from Plin. I heard the low hum of the hovercart moving forward shortly after she passed by me, followed shortly by the dull thud of a closing door.

  “This time your inability to let go of the past may be your undoing,” he said, his voice low; he took another two steps toward me.

  I unfastened the phaser’s safety. “Don’t move any closer—” Before I could react, he plunged forward; I gasped. He threaded his hands behind my head, smashing his mouth into my ear.

  “Listen to me. There is no double,” he whispered. “I scanned Teara’s corpse—she’s as Bajoran as you and I. She was set up and there’s only person who could have done it.”

  My eyes widened. Prophets let him be wrong.

  “Gundar is bait,” Reon continued. “There is no systems upgrade. I checked. Plin arranged to have him sent here. She must be in trouble with the Cardassians because she’s selling out Shakaar as some kind of loyalty test to save the Club.”

  My mouth fell open; I choked back a scream. I didn’t know what to believe. My brother pulled me tight into his arms, allowing me to lean against him for support. I felt the weight of something slipped into my jacket pocket. “Once you’re far away and safe, find out the truth for yourself. I’ve given you the map, so to speak.”

  Had he crafted another illusion for my benefit? All these years in the Officers’ Club had made him a master of the masquerade. I pulled back from his embrace to search his face.

  I heard Plin walking across the shuttle deck. She’d be back at the airlock within seconds.

  “Whatever you do, don’t go straight to Shakaar. Go anywhere else.” He shoved me away, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “Aim your weapon,” he mouthed.

  Tossing my hair defiantly, I snarled loud enough for Plin to hear, “You won’t get away with this, Reon or whatever your name is. You can tell your Cardassian masters that they’ll have to do better if they want to break the spirit of Bajor!”

  Plin emerged from the airlock, glanced between me and my brother. “The shuttle’s ready to go. Shakaar will need time to make the rendezvous, and I can help you through Cardassian security much faster than you can go through by yourself.”

  “You have to stay here, Plin,” I said with as much earnestness as I could muster. “You have to figure out what damage Reon’s done to your operation—for Bajor’s sake.” I thought I caught a glint of triumph in her eye before she again donned a mask of earnest indignation. Reon might be telling the truth.

  She reached for the weapon. “Go with the Prophets, Nerys.”

  Then I knew. Leaving Reon at the Club would mean his death. If Plin had betrayed the resistance to the Cardassians, she couldn’t afford to let Reon expose her before she could cover her tracks, or she’d kill him as revenge for framing Teara. My brother would die either way.

  Until I was away from the Club and could prove or disprove Reon’s story, I wouldn’t know the truth. And in that moment, the truth couldn’t matter, because the miss
ion came first.

  I met his eyes: A hint of a smile on his lips told me that he’d made peace with his fate. Numbly, I handed Plin the weapon and moved through the airlock. I imagined I heard the metallic zing of phaser fire before the airlock doors sealed.

  When the shuttle hatch closed, I checked to make sure that Gundar was still alive (he was) and then headed up to the front to check with the pilot. I gave him a fake destination, one many hours away from the Officers’ Club, and settled into the copilot’s chair. The authorities wouldn’t touch me before I’d led them to Shakaar. I wasn’t too worried about being hassled until the spoonheads figured out that they’d been duped. At that point, I’d shake whatever goons might be waiting for me and request emergency extraction. Recalling my operative codes and how Plin had shared hers with me during our first meeting, I thought of her—and Teara and Reon. Reaching into my pocket, I removed what he’d put in my pocket—an oval-shaped locket I instantly recognized as my mother’s. I found a memory chip inside: Reon’s map. I wondered where it would take me.

  As the mission meandered to a conclusion, I wished for sleep, for drink, for any sensation that would make the memories go away. Escape eluded me for a long time. I worked for Bajor and would sacrifice whatever was required of me to assure my people’s freedom, including giving my life and in this case, my brother’s life. I tried being matter-of-fact about his loss and managed quite well for a time.

  Tears finally spilled on the day when Shakaar, thanks to Reon’s chip, slipped through an untraceable backdoor into the Cardassians’ communication network. Those in my cell assumed that I wept for joy, as they all did, because at last we had in our power the ability to break the Cardassians’ stranglehold on Bajor. Not so much as a supply clerk would be reassigned without the resistance knowing about it. The occupation would end.

  I raised my face to the blue-green summer sky of Dahkur and remembered my brother.

  Jonathan Archer

  Captain of Enterprise (NX-01)

  Have Beagle, Will Travel: