Myriad Universes_ Echoes And Refractions Part 16

"I make many purchases in my line of work, Dalin."

"Yes-textiles, sewing machinery, display units. And yet, the parts on this list don't conform to any piece of equipment that's registered for your shop. However, my colleagues on the station's engineering staff have informed me that these parts are essential to creating a containment unit."

"Really? How fascinating."

"Do you deny that you are creating a containment unit, Mister Garak?"

"Please, Dalin, it's just Garak-plain, simple-"

Damar rose to his feet. "There is nothing plain or simple about you, tailor!" Immediately, he brought his temper under control. "What is it that you intend to do with this equipment?"

"Simply a tinkering project I'm working on in my spare time. Business has been slow of late. Fewer Carda.s.sians have come to my shop, and most Bajorans cannot afford my wares. If not for the Ferengi, I fear I would go out of business entirely. While the walk-in business is always appreciated from ships pa.s.sing through, it's regular customers who keep the modern business alive, and those-"

Feeling the interrogation slip through his fingers again, Damar sat back down. "I don't care about the ins and outs of shop management, Garak. Just answer the question."

Garak shifted in his chair. "Yes, well, I'm afraid I'm not very...comfortable with telling the specifics to such a man as you, Dalin. You see-the device in question is..."

When Garak's hesitation threatened to go on for ten seconds, Damar repeated, "Answer the question!"

"It's a gift for a friend. A fairly salacious one, if you must know. You see, it enables the two users-or more, if they're so inclined-to-"

The s.e.xual practices of Garak's friends were even lower on the list of things Damar wished to be informed of than the economics of Garak's business. "I want you to produce the device you're creating for your friend."

"Dalin, I really don't think this is the kind of thing that an officer of your standing should be exposed to. Really, it's quite crude."

Getting to his feet once again, Damar walked around to the other side of the desk. "I believe I'll be able to tolerate it." He grabbed Garak by the arm and hoisted the tailor to his feet with one hand. With the other, he picked up the padd with the equipment list. "Come on."

In truth, Damar knew this was a waste of time. Garak wouldn't have told the lie if he didn't have physical proof to back it up. If he was creating a containment unit-of the type, say, to hold the liquid contents of a shapechanger, similar to that used by Doctor Mora Pol on Bajor shortly after discovering Odo-he wouldn't make it obvious, and would have in fact disguised it as something else, such as a s.e.x toy.

If he was telling the truth, then Damar was wasting his time and would look like an idiot.

Damar had never understood why Dukat had put the shapechanger in charge of security after Thrax's departure in the first place. True, he'd gained a reputation for mediating disputes on Bajor, and in the seven years he'd served at the post, he'd proven to be an able investigator, but to put him in charge of security on the Promenade? That was simply asking for trouble. No one knew what his species was, and he was cared for by a Bajoran scientist-yes, one who'd proven loyal to Carda.s.sia, but still...

Odo's recent disappearance was welcome to Damar, and not just because Damar got his job-along with the promotion from glinn to dalin, which meant a significant pay increase as well as more prestige in Central Command. No, the shapechanger was trouble, and always had been. He was always fair to the d.a.m.ned terrorists down on Bajor. Dukat had said that made him an a.s.set; Damar never subscribed to that notion.

He kept his iron grip on Garak's arm-and ignored the clothier's protests about it-all the way down the Promenade to the shop. Some garresh or other-Damar had yet to learn the names of all those under his command-stood at the door, which had been security-sealed for the duration of Garak's interrogation.

"Remove the seal," Damar told the garresh.

As the young soldier did so, Garak said, "I must once again protest the need for such a seal, Dalin. It creates the impression that my shop is a den of iniquity. That's all well and good for Rom's Bar-the Ferengi thrives on that sort of thing-but I run a legitimate business, one that suffers if it becomes a focus of attention from security personnel."

"That isn't my concern," Damar said. "Besides, it's standard procedure." He didn't bother to add that it only became standard procedure when Damar took over security.

"If you say so," Garak said with a shrug. "As I said before, my knowledge of security is limited."

Damar didn't believe that for a second. Once the seal was broken and the doors to the shop parted, Damar all but threw Garak over the threshold, then held up the padd. "You will produce every piece of equipment on this list and place it on your counter."

Straightening his outfit and making a small bow, Garak said, "Of course."

Someone on the engineering staff had shown Damar what the containment unit would probably look like. What Garak produced looked nothing like that. It didn't look like much of anything, in fact. But Damar did his duty and looked it over, and saw that all the parts were accounted for, and that it looked nothing like a containment unit. Damar could, if he squinted, see how it might be used as a s.e.x aid. Frankly, Damar preferred Rom's holosuites-they offered a more complete package, and he didn't feel like he was cheating on his wife-but to each his own.

"Is there anything else, Dalin, or may I put this...rather distasteful object out of the way?"

"If it's so distasteful," Damar asked, "then why create it in the first place?"

"Friendship sometimes demands that one put aside one's own aesthetic sense."

Damar rolled his eyes. "Rationalize your perversions however you want." With that, he turned and left the clothier's, signaling for the garresh to follow. Once they were out of the shop, he said, "Keep an eye on him. I want someone on the Promenade patrol to be watching his store at all times."

As he spoke, he saw that Gul Dukat was walking into Rom's. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in Rom's," he said.

"Yes, sir!" the garresh said.

Quickly, Damar strode across the Promande, heading for the bar. Damar was grateful for the destination, as he'd found the Ferengi establishment to be the only place he felt comfortable on the entire station.

In truth, Damar hadn't wanted the position on Terok Nor. It was too far from home and family, and it was, he had thought at the time, a backwater a.s.signment.

Legate Parn had a.s.sured him otherwise. Damar had been hearing rumors that Carda.s.sia would pull out of Bajor, that what resources the world had left were not worth putting up with their tiresome resistance. Certainly the time Damar hadn't spent in his ever more fruitless search for his predecessor had been spent cleaning up messes made by the d.a.m.ned resistance.

But Parn had said repeatedly that Terok Nor was a critical station to Carda.s.sia's future, and that there was no danger of Carda.s.sia leaving Bajor any time soon.

Damar had, of course, heard other rumors, but he dismissed those. His stock in trade was evidence-following rumors just led you to a dead end.

Glancing back at Garak's shop, he added dolefully to himself, And sometimes even the evidence takes you there.

The Promenade was filled with people, but was not very noisy. The Bajorans knew to keep quiet, and everyone else was usually on their way somewhere else. Once he walked through the doors to Rom's, though, the ambient noise level went up considerably-especially since this was the "somewhere else" that many were on their way to. Both dabo tables were fully occupied, with winners screaming with joy and losers cursing. The dom-jot table had a wait, and most of the seats were occupied.

There was, however, a clear path from the door to the bar, because at the end of that path was Skrain Dukat. Everyone on the station knew to stay out of the gul's way.

As Damar approached the bar, the proprietor placed a large gla.s.s of kanar in front of the station prefect. "Uh, here you go, Gul Dukat. It's at the temperature you like-and it's, uh, on the house, of course."

Inclining his head, Dukat grabbed the gla.s.s. "Thank you, Rom. How is business?"

"Oh, it's fine. Although-" The Ferengi hesitated. "one of the holosuites is down. I've tried to perform maintenance, but"

"Say no more," Dukat said with a smile after swallowing some of his drink. "I'll have Karris take a look at it before she goes off duty."

Rom gave a wide, snaggletoothed smile. "Thank you, Gul! That's very nice of you."

"Nonsense. Your holosuites are one of the station's main attractions. I'm simply looking out for the station's well-being." He took another sip of kanar.

Damar remained standing behind Dukat. He knew that the gul had registered Damar's presence, and he'd been serving on Terok Nor just long enough to know better than to interrupt. Dukat would speak to him when he was ready, not a moment before.

"How fares your brother?"

Rom sounded almost petulant. "How should I know? Quark hasn't spoken a word to me since he sold me this place and bought his moon! It's like I don't even have a brother!" Rom blinked a few times. "Actually, that's kinda nice, now that I think about it."

Dukat chuckled and gulped down more of his drink, before finally turning to look at his security chief. "Ah, Damar. Please tell me that you've made progress in your search for our elusive shapeshifter."

"I'm afraid I can't, Gul. I questioned Garak, but he claimed to know nothing."

Frowning, Dukat said, "I thought you said he'd obtained the pieces for a containment unit that could hold one of his kind."

"Yes-he showed me what he was building with those parts. Trust me, it wouldn't hold Odo, or much of anything else."

"You believe Garak to be a false lead?"

Damar hesitated. "I can't tell if he is a false lead, or if he is sufficiently good at covering his tracks. There's circ.u.mstantial evidence to support the notion that he's hiding something, and you've seen the same anomalies in his records I have-it practically screams the Order. But, as usual for the Order, there's no evidence. And he could simply be who he says he is-a plain, simple, very annoying clothier."

Laughing, Dukat put what he probably thought was a rea.s.suring hand on Damar's shoulder. "I understand your frustration, Damar, believe me. I have my own-shall we call them issues?-with Garak. I believe you should search his shop-top to bottom. Leave no dress unturned. Anything that cannot be accounted for as belonging in a clothier's is to be confiscated."

This struck Damar to be as big a waste of time as questioning Garak-if he really was Order, he wouldn't be that sloppy-but he knew many of the people under his command didn't like Garak, and would take joy in ripping apart his store. If nothing else, it'd be good for morale. "It'll be done tomorrow morning, right when he opens."

"Good. Now, then-"

Whatever else Dukat was going to say was interrupted by an explosion, followed by the sound of an alarm. Before he even fully registered the alarm, Damar's feet were moving, running to the exit and toward the ore processors.

His people were already evacuating personnel. The acrid stench of burning conduits filled his nostrils, and the air was thick with smoke. There was evidence of a fire, but the internal fire-suppression systems appeared to have done their work.

Activating his communicator with one hand while clearing smoke from his face with the other, he said, "Damar to infirmary, medical emergency in Ore Processing, Section 9."

"On my way," said the voice of the doctor on duty.

Seeing one of his officers, Glinn Comra, Damar asked, "What happened?"

Comra handed him a data clip. "An explosion. Looks like pretty typical resistance stuff-and this proves it."

Damar glared at Comra, then took the data clip and activated it, at which point it played an audio file.

"This is the Kohn-Ma. We have destroyed this ore processor to remind the Carda.s.sians that we will not stand for their remaining on our world. We-"

Angrily, Damar turned off the clip. He'd heard this tired rhetoric before.

Dukat approached the scene. "The resistance, I a.s.sume?"

"Yes." Damar handed the clip to Comra and said, "Continue rescue operations, then get a forensic team in here. It's past time the Kohn-Ma was ended."

Nodding to both Damar and Dukat, Comra took his leave.

Staring at Dukat, Damar said, "Why do we continue to remain on this useless rock? Even without incidents like this, ore production has gone down every year for the past five years. Meanwhile, rebel attacks have grown worse, especially after you had their religious leader killed."

Dukat let out a sigh. "Yes, killing Opaka Sulan did serve only to make her a martyr to their cause, didn't it? Still, nothing to be done. This station is far too important to abandon now, Damar."

With that, the prefect left the scene, leaving Damar to oversee rescue operations. A medical team had arrived, and started treating the wounded-the Carda.s.sians first, obviously. The Bajorans could wait. As likely as not, the injured Bajorans were the ones who set off the explosion-or they knew who did. He made a mental note to interrogate them before they were treated-to use the promise of treatment as leverage for getting answers.

It probably wouldn't work-it almost never did-but it was worth trying on the off chance that he'd find one person who couldn't stand the pain. A chain needed only one weak link to break, after all.

2.

No'Var Outpost Near the Romulan Border Klingon Empire Lieutenant Krivaq, son of Gorv, simply could not win.

He had thought the posting to the No'Var Outpost would be the relief he'd been desperate for. The third son of Gorv, he had been spending far too much of his life of late mediating disputes between the first and second sons. His older brothers were constantly going to Krivaq whenever they argued about something, and they were always arguing about something. The disposition of the House of Gorv's meager holdings. The proper way to prepare rokeg blood pie. Who would retain possession of their mother's bat'leth. The right price to pay for fresh gagh. The proper way to install a new door on the front of the house. And on and on and on.

Then, at last, Krivaq was a.s.signed to No'Var. It was on the Romulan border, too far for real-time communication from Qo'noS, which Krivaq had thought would be the end of his torment.

And it was. But a fresh torment had begun.

"There were three members of our House on Narendra III that fateful day," Commander J'rak was saying as he paced the outpost's nerve center. He and Krivaq were the only ones on duty, and Krivaq had only one more hour before he was off duty and could go to the mess hall. There was supposed to be fresh racht today. Krivaq loved racht.

But first he had to endure J'rak telling the Narendra III story. Again. Krivaq had been serving on No'Var for five months now, and he'd lost track of the number of times J'rak had felt the need to tell this d.a.m.ned tale.

"There was my grandfather, Kamril, after whom my House is still named. There was his cousin, Morgar, a doughty warrior who had won many battles against the Kreel. And of course, there was Morgar's mate, Vaga, who could shoot a glob fly from half a qelI'qam away. They were a.s.signed to Narendra III to defend the base and maintain its security."

And yet, they couldn't have been very good at it, since the base was destroyed. Krivaq was not suicidal enough to say that out loud, but he often thought it when J'rak started on the Narendra III story.

"Of course, they thought the base safe from the Romulans. After all, we'd heard nothing from them since the Tomed incident with the Federation."

J'rak laughed heartily, and Krivaq-whose back was to his commander-imagined he could see J'rak's corpulent form vibrate with the action. His armor was a feat of engineering; Krivaq could not believe that the Defense Force ma.s.s-produced uniforms for anyone that fat. It simply had to be custom made.

"If only that had remained so. The galaxy is a better place without those pointy-eared petaQpu' in it."

On that, Krivaq could agree. Romulans were cowardly and dishonorable-all the more so because they claimed to have honor.

"But suddenly, without warning, they attacked, unveiling those khest'n warbirds. d.a.m.n things plowed right through our defenses like nothing."

Krivaq was always amused when J'rak started referring to "our" defenses, as if he were there when it happened, not an infant back on Qo'noS.

Suddenly, J'rak put a hand on Krivaq's shoulder, almost causing Krivaq to jump out of his chair. He managed to suppress the shocked reactiona warrior should never be shocked, after all-but it was a near thing, for his instincts had dulled horribly in this place.

"That's why this outpost is so important, Lieutenant," the commander said. "They did it at Narendra III, and two years later they did it again at Khitomer. You never know when those toDSaHpu' will try to sneak across the border again. They were behind the House of Duras's coup, you know."

Of course I know that. Everyone knows that. Krivaq checked his chronometer, but it was still most of an hour before he went off shift. His stomachs started rumbling in antic.i.p.ation of the racht that was still so far away.

The proximity alarm blared, blowing past his warrior's instincts and making him jump in his seat. In the five months that he'd been a.s.signed here, that proximity alarm had only gone off when the supply ship came, and it wasn't due for another week.

Then he checked the readout and the rumble in his stomachs shifted from hunger to nausea. The alarm was coming from the other side of the Romulan border.

"We're picking up a ship on the Rom side-it just decloaked."

"What?" J'rak bellowed loud enough that it actually hurt Krivaq's ears. "Confirm!"

Krivaq re-took the sensor readings. "It's a warbird, bearing directly on this outpost, weapons hot."