Star Trek: Terok Nor 02: Night of the Wolves

by S. D. Perry

  It was late before she finally fell asleep, and despite her exhaustion she still tossed and turned, agonizing over every detail of her past nocturnal experiences—and the one that had not happened in the night. The one that had happened in those lost hours when she had been in the laboratory with the Orb. She was sorry now that she’d ever pursued the artifact. It had affected her mind, somehow, and her only real hope was that time would make the instability fade, would return her peace of mind.

  Miras, the serene voice of the Hebitian woman beckoned her into sleep. Miras, I have something to show you.

  “Please, I don’t want to put the mask on again,” she said, and the blackness of sleep melted into the temperate little room in the black-bricked cottage. The Hebitian woman’s face read tender amusement.

  “No, Miras. You will not evoke the spirit of Oralius this time.” She was holding the mask in her hands.

  “Why do I keep seeing you? Why is this happening to me? Is it the Orb?”

  The woman smiled. “This corporeal being to whom you now speak. Her name is Astraea.”

  Miras swallowed. “Do you mean…that your name is Astraea?”

  The woman hesitated. “Astraea is a guide.”

  “A…guide?”

  The woman went on. “Astraea is a lineage. My mother’s name was Astraea, and my daughter’s name will be Astraea.”

  “Astraea. Please, tell me why I am here. Is this a dream?” It was an absurd question, but she was desperate.

  The woman put the mask on her own face for a moment. “All will be revealed. You must find the Book of the Hebitians—the Recitations, where it is all written.”

  “The book of…How am I supposed to find…Please, is this real? I don’t know what I’m meant to do! Can’t I just forget these dreams ever happened, wake up and go to the ministry tomorrow, as I’m supposed to? I don’t want this!”

  “The Book can be found just beyond the city. It rests within a vessel that is hidden in plain sight.”

  Miras tried to make sense of this puzzle. The city? What city? She must mean Lakarian City. The ruins. Where the Hebitian civilization had flourished, millennia ago.

  The woman removed the mask, and Miras was startled to find that the woman’s face had changed. “I am Astraea,” she said, and her voice was different as well.

  “But…”

  She put the mask back on her face. “My mother’s name was Astraea, and my daughter’s name will be Astraea.”

  She removed the mask, and once again, her face had changed. Miras watched in fascination as the woman repeated the motion again, and then again. She continued to repeat the name Astraea, physically representing how the name was passed through many generations. As she cycled through each new persona, Miras could see that it was not only her face that was changing. Her shoulders were gradually broadening, her limbs becoming more compact, her skeletal ridges more defined. Finally, Miras understood.

  “My name is Astraea,” the woman said, removing the mask one last time, and Miras was stunned into absolute silence, for she recognized the face now.

  Her own face.

  Lenaris had started to wonder if it wouldn’t be quite so easy to find Tiven Cohr after all. He and Taryl had been to three taverns; at each, the patronage knew exactly who Tiven was, but not exactly how to find him. But at the fourth place they walked into, Lenaris immediately spied Tiven himself, hunched over the edge of a wooden bar with a clay mug of copal between his hands, blustering his long-winded war stories and opinions to anyone who was listening—and that appeared to be nobody.

  Tiven looked almost just as he had when Lenaris had last seen him, nearly three years before. His gray hair was twisted into several matted strands that were gathered at the nape of his neck with a piece of rawhide. His face was as heavily lined as a map, and his brown eyes seemed to look in opposite directions, belying a man with vision like a sinoraptor.

  Tiven hadn’t seen him walk into the bar. Lenaris approached quickly, Taryl following.

  “This man’s next drink is on me,” Lenaris announced, though he had very little in the way of currency. He might have to do more than apologize just to get Tiven to stay in the room with him.

  The old man’s head turned abruptly. “Who the kosst…” He stopped and leaned back in his seat, looking at Lenaris as if seeing him for the first time—and not liking what he saw. He made as if to stand up.

  “Please, hear me out,” Lenaris said. He slid into the seat next to Tiven’s. “Did Halpas tell you that I—”

  Tiven’s voice was as bitter as makara herb. “He told me that you’re still as arrogant and full of yourself as ever.”

  “Please,” Taryl interrupted, her voice almost shaking with pleading sincerity. “Mr. Tiven, my name is Ornathia Taryl. My brother’s life is in danger, and I’ve heard that you’re the best warp engineer on all of Bajor.”

  Tiven softened, but only by a fraction. “You brought a pretty girl with a sob story, eh?”

  “She’s telling the truth,” Lenaris said. “When I was looking for you before—it was just because I thought a warp ship was an intriguing project—but now…my friend is in danger, and we need to leave the system if we’re going to have any chance of rescuing him.”

  “Friends die,” Tiven said.

  “I know they do,” Lenaris said. “I understand that.”

  Tiven turned to Taryl, his voice rough but not without sympathy. “Brothers die, too.”

  “My brother doesn’t have to die,” Taryl said. “We can save him, and you can help us.”

  “And what’s in it for me?” Tiven finished the dregs of his cider.

  “You could come with us,” Lenaris said. “You always said how much you missed space travel—”

  “Fine, I’ll do it,” Tiven said, slamming down his mug.

  Lenaris was stunned. “What…what did you say?”

  “I’ll do it, Lenaris—if you just admit that you were wrong.” He grinned.

  “I was wrong,” Lenaris said immediately. “I never should have questioned any of you about the mission, and I never should have said any of those things after it all went wrong, and I never should have left, and I never should have—”

  “Whoa!” Tiven said, lifting his hands to his chest in mock defense. “I didn’t think you were actually going to do it!” He laughed, gestured for the bartender to refill his mug. “This one’s on you,” he reminded Lenaris.

  “Of course,” Lenaris said quickly. “I’ll buy you another one after that, if you want.”

  Tiven cleared his throat, looking away from them. “Truth is, Lenaris, you were right. Of course you were. We were all emotional after…what happened. I guess Halpas and I just resented you…for being young, and for knowing what you were talking about when you told us not to go through with it.”

  Lenaris said nothing, feeling nothing from Tiven’s validation. It didn’t matter who was right—he realized that now. Darin was still dead, Tiven’s brother was dead, and Lac would be, too, if they couldn’t get to him in time.

  “I’ll help you fix your ship, if she can be fixed,” Tiven said, and pulled on his drink. “I’ve got nothing better to do these days, nothing but standing in ration lines and running up a tab at every tavern in town.” He eyed the bartender. “Tabs that probably won’t ever be paid,” he said confidentially. “So maybe it’s better if I get out of here for a little while. After all—you came all this way…and you even apologized!” He laughed, a drunken sound without much mirth. He was the same Tiven that Lenaris remembered, unstable, drunk, mostly well meaning.

  Lenaris looked at Taryl, who was smiling with gratitude, the first time Lenaris had seen a genuine smile on her face since Lac’s disappearance. “One more thing,” Lenaris said, turning back to Tiven. “We need to find Halpas.”

  The old engineer nodded. “I know where he is,” he said, “but whether he’ll come is another story.”

  “He’ll come,” Lenaris said. “The chance to fly a warp ship? He’d never pas
s it up.”

  Tiven removed himself creakily from his stool. “You may be right,” he said. “I confess, the chance to work on a warp engine is no small motive for me, either.” He took one last draught of his cider. “After all,” he added, “I’m an engineer by D’jarra—it’s what I was born to do.”

  Kalisi had yet to make the breakthrough that would define her career, and though she knew she was still young, that she had years ahead of her, that didn’t make her impatience any easier to tolerate. She was driven not only by ambition—she lived to make her family proud—but by a strong conviction that something needed to be done about the situation on Bajor.

  Since coming to work for the science ministry, Kalisi had been confronted with a lot of disturbing information about the annexation. Too many people had already died, soldiers, mostly, men of all ages, but primarily her own peers. Not even half her friends were betrothed; even a generation earlier, most, if not all of them, would have enjoined by now, been living with parents and grandparents, beginning families. The annexation was changing the heart of Cardassia, which had always been family, and she meant to do something about it.

  She’d given it much thought, taken influences and variables into account, and had decided that what the Union most needed was a means to keep track of every single Bajoran on Bajor. The insurgents had managed for too long to slip beneath Cardassian sensors, hide in regions that were supposed to be off limits—where they were forming resistance cells and conspiring to kill soldiers. Kalisi felt certain that if she could successfully address this problem, she could alleviate much of the violence on Bajor. Unfortunately, all proposals for a full-scale identification system—twice, her own team’s efforts—had been rejected. The officials in charge of Bajoran affairs had repeatedly insisted that, even if they could afford the exorbitant cost of such a system, they couldn’t spare the personnel and equipment that implementing her ideas would require. She needed to approach the situation from a new angle.

  Recently, she’d been developing an idea for an automated tagging and reading system, one that could function in the wintertime when the soldiers were hampered by the intolerable cold. She had been staying in her laboratory until late into the night, studying classified reports on past weapons failures and recent Bajoran attacks.

  Kalisi’s comm buzzed, and she jerked awake, unaware that she’d even been asleep. She rubbed her face, tapped at the panel. Who was even up this late? “Yes?”

  “Kalisi, it’s me.” Miras Vara. Kalisi woke up a bit. She hadn’t expected to hear from Miras for a while, after that strange, stilted lunch they’d had, following the odd incident with the Bajoran artifact.

  “Miras? Are you in your lab? What are you doing here so late?”

  “I could ask you the same thing, but I’m not going to.” Her friend smiled wryly. “Kalisi, I know you’ll think it’s an odd request, but I need to look at the Orb again. It’s…for a study I’m doing.”

  Kalisi was instantly curious. Why would Miras ask to see the artifact this late at night? Not that it mattered anyway. “I’m afraid I can’t help you, Miras. After the computer malfunction, it was pulled from general access. The director of engineering says she doesn’t want anyone to take it out again until further analysis can be done, but it was put at the end of a very long queue. You’ve got a wait ahead of you if you want to see it.”

  Miras looked crestfallen. “No, Kalisi, it’s…I need to see it. I’ve got to convince the head of engineering to let me look at it, just for a few minutes. It wasn’t the artifact that affected the computer system. It was…I don’t know, but it wasn’t the artifact.”

  Kalisi kept her face impassive, studying Miras. They had agreed that the object must have had a dampening effect on the ministry’s system. It was the only explanation. And now Miras denied it. Suspicious, to say the least.

  “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing you can do,” Kalisi said. “You’ll have to put whatever research you’ve got going on hold, unless you can convince engineering that it’s something that can’t wait.”

  “Well, I guess…I’ll have to come up with some reason to convince them to let me see it. I must. I must see that object.” Miras looked determined, and Kalisi felt more worried than suspicious now. They hadn’t been in touch for a while, but Miras had never been like this. The Miras she knew was smart, sweet, slightly passive. Something about that artifact was making her friend act very strangely. Kalisi knew that she had just recovered from an illness—she looked drawn and too thin—and wondered if the artifact might have had something to do with that, as well.

  “Are you feeling all right?” Kalisi asked.

  “Fine, I’m well, thank you for asking.” Miras smiled, but her thoughts were elsewhere, Kalisi could see it in her face. They exchanged vague promises of future meetings. Miras gave her a distracted good-bye and faded from the screen. Kalisi sat back in her seat, thinking.

  Maybe the artifact should be put under heavier security. Kalisi recalled some of what Miras had been raving about, after that strange incident—the destruction of Cardassia Prime. And shortly thereafter, she’d fallen ill, had been away from work for days…

  Kalisi made a quick decision. There were people who could handle a thing like this, and her father knew them. It was late, but she decided it wasn’t too late to bring up something that could be of importance to the Union, not if the artifact was truly dangerous. She reactivated her comm.

  “Father? I’m sorry to call you so late—”

  Yannik Reyar smiled gently at his daughter. “It’s no trouble, my dear girl. It’s always a treat to hear from you. How is your research coming? Have I mentioned how proud I am, of you and your efforts?”

  “Thank you, Father, yes, you have mentioned, but it does me good to hear it again. Father, there is something I would like to discuss with you. This is a matter that I believe transcends the military.”

  His expression sharpened. “Kalisi, I will contact you on another channel. End the call now.”

  She did as she was told, and waited for another call to come through. This was standard protocol for any message relayed that might concern the Obsidian Order, though Kalisi hadn’t had much occasion to make reference to them before now.

  Yannik Reyar was not actually a member of the Order. He acted as liaison between the Order and Central Command, and both organizations considered him an impartial entity. His position was unique, and important. Historically, there had been others like him, but none had been active in a time where there had been so much conflict between the two bodies. It made his job a dangerous one, especially since Central Command needed him more than the Order did—and the Order had the means to make him disappear at any time. They had the means to make anyone disappear, but Yannik’s position put him at much higher risk. He knew it, and his family knew it, too. But he considered his work to be of value to Cardassia, and bore the risk with some measure of pride. As a result of her father’s involvement, Kalisi had come to view the Order with a great deal of respect—in fact, she respected them more than the military, though the latter funded the science ministry’s research.

  The comm blinked as a scrambled message came through, and Kalisi entered a password to access her father’s incoming transmission. “Is it safe to speak freely, Father?”

  “Yes, this channel is secure. What is it you wish to tell me?”

  “It will sound very strange, I’m sure. But…the Ministry of Science is in possession of an…object that may be of some significance. It came to my attention some time ago, but it’s only been recently that I’ve learned of its apparent effects.”

  “What kind of an object?”

  “It’s a religious artifact from Bajor. But it seems to have technological capabilities that can’t be explained—at least, not yet. The ministry’s computer system was disabled for a short period when the object was being studied. The sensors gave false readings.”

  “Really?”

  “The ministry plans to study it further, but�
�you know how inefficiently things are being done of late. It may be years before anyone gets to it. At any rate, after being exposed to it, my friend Miras was raving in a most disturbing manner, and then she became ill. Now she seems obsessed with the thing, wishing to see it again for some unknown purpose. Whatever it is, it has powers far beyond what meets the eye. I’m sure of it.”

  “Now…just a moment. You say your friend was raving when she saw the object. And then she became ill?”

  Kalisi nodded. “She was speaking of the destruction of Cardassia. That there was a man on Bajor who was going to find something…I don’t remember what it was…” Kalisi closed her eyes for a beat, trying to recall—the eidetic skill that so many Cardassians had perfected had never come easily for her. “Another of the artifacts, I believe. There are supposed to be a series of them. She was quite specific about a man called…G’ar, I think. G’ar Osen. But then she said it wasn’t his real name, that he wasn’t really a Bajoran. It sounded like nonsense, but she was obviously quite deeply affected. I admit, I’ve grown concerned about her.”

  “G’ar Osen? And you believe it was this object that made her so hysterical? This Bajoran artifact?”

  “She’s a very sensible person, normally. I’m telling you, Father, I have a bad feeling about this thing, as though it could be some kind of sophisticated weapon, sent under the guise of being a harmless religious object. I think the Order’s scientists should see it. Central Command…”

  She trailed off, knowing that her father felt as she did, about Command’s disregard for the sciences, despite its funding of the ministry. But he still appeared uncertain.