Read Online Star Trek: Brinkmanship by Una McCormack - Free Book Online
Authors: Una McCormack
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You’re made of colder stuff, aren’t you? Bet you’d have done it yourselves if you were able, at several points in your history.”
Stung, Efheny looked up—yes, looked directly at him. “This one suggests,” she said softly back, “that her training might simply be better than yours.”
“I thought about that,” he admitted cheerfully. “Thought about whether you were Federation and nobody had bothered to brief me. Even wondered whether you were from another Typhon Pact power—no reason why you wouldn’t all be spying on each other, after all—but when I woke up the morning after our little tête-à-tête here and I wasn’t dead, I figured you were probably an ally. So the question then was, what kind? Ferengi? Klingon?” He shook his head. “The thing is, I’ve worked alongside you for months. You like it here, don’t you, Mayazan? You like how calm it is, how ordered. I’ve seen you staring out across the lagoon as if it was a glimpse of paradise. You’re Cardassian, or my name’s not . . .” He smiled crookedly. “Well, my name’s not Hertome Ter Ata-C.”
Her leti arrived. She sipped it.
“How did you know I wasn’t Tzenkethi?” Hertome said conversationally.
Efheny thought, How do you think? Because humans are a menace and we are trained to watch out for them in case their impulsiveness gets us killed. She said, “That doesn’t matter. What matters is that we need to be careful. I wouldn’t be surprised if this meeting hadn’t already attracted attention. It’s not illegal for an Ata-C of breeding age to associate outside of work with an Ata-E of a similar age, but it’s not usual, and a biomedical check is considered appropriate first—”
“So take my hand.”
Startled, she looked up at him over the rim of her cup. “What did you say?”
“Take my hand. If we’re already marked, we might as well give them a reason to mark us. But it’s surely better if it’s nowhere near the truth.”
She considered his words, weighed them, moved the kotra pieces of their game around in her mind. Then she came to her decision about what to do. Keep him close. That’s all you have to do for now. She put down her cup and reached across the table to clasp his hand.
“If it becomes necessary,” she said, looking deep into his alien eyes, “this one will kill you.”
He smiled. “Mayazan,” he said, “I think that might be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.”
• • •
With the Aventine under way to Outpost V-4, Ezri Dax called her senior staff together to brief them on the new mission. Peter Alden sat at the opposite end of the table. No, not sat. Slumped. He looked exhausted.
“Seeing as you’re all bright and able graduates of Starfleet Academy,” Dax said, “I imagine you’ve already gathered that we’re no longer delivering Commander Alden to the Enterprise. Our mission instead is to take him to the Venetan Outpost V-4, where the Tzenkethi are currently making free with the outpost’s facilities.”
“And all within spitting distance of Starbase 261,”Security Chief Kedair noted, as Alden brought up the relevant star charts. “What exactly do you mean by ‘making free,’ Captain?”
“That, as they say, is the question,” Dax replied. “The purpose of our journey is to observe what’s going on. The story the Venetans are putting out is that it’s a trading agreement, plain and simple. Goods coming in, goods going out. Everyone happy. However, Commander Alden and his colleagues”—she nodded down the table and he nodded back—“fear darker purposes behind this arrangement.” She stared again at the star chart. “It is damned convenient that these bases all lie on the border . . .” She shook herself. Remember, Ezri, we know nothing yet, nothing substantial. “But we need proof of any plan to militarize these bases. The Venetans insist they have nothing to hide, but it’s a delicate situation, and we can’t
Stung, Efheny looked up—yes, looked directly at him. “This one suggests,” she said softly back, “that her training might simply be better than yours.”
“I thought about that,” he admitted cheerfully. “Thought about whether you were Federation and nobody had bothered to brief me. Even wondered whether you were from another Typhon Pact power—no reason why you wouldn’t all be spying on each other, after all—but when I woke up the morning after our little tête-à-tête here and I wasn’t dead, I figured you were probably an ally. So the question then was, what kind? Ferengi? Klingon?” He shook his head. “The thing is, I’ve worked alongside you for months. You like it here, don’t you, Mayazan? You like how calm it is, how ordered. I’ve seen you staring out across the lagoon as if it was a glimpse of paradise. You’re Cardassian, or my name’s not . . .” He smiled crookedly. “Well, my name’s not Hertome Ter Ata-C.”
Her leti arrived. She sipped it.
“How did you know I wasn’t Tzenkethi?” Hertome said conversationally.
Efheny thought, How do you think? Because humans are a menace and we are trained to watch out for them in case their impulsiveness gets us killed. She said, “That doesn’t matter. What matters is that we need to be careful. I wouldn’t be surprised if this meeting hadn’t already attracted attention. It’s not illegal for an Ata-C of breeding age to associate outside of work with an Ata-E of a similar age, but it’s not usual, and a biomedical check is considered appropriate first—”
“So take my hand.”
Startled, she looked up at him over the rim of her cup. “What did you say?”
“Take my hand. If we’re already marked, we might as well give them a reason to mark us. But it’s surely better if it’s nowhere near the truth.”
She considered his words, weighed them, moved the kotra pieces of their game around in her mind. Then she came to her decision about what to do. Keep him close. That’s all you have to do for now. She put down her cup and reached across the table to clasp his hand.
“If it becomes necessary,” she said, looking deep into his alien eyes, “this one will kill you.”
He smiled. “Mayazan,” he said, “I think that might be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.”
• • •
With the Aventine under way to Outpost V-4, Ezri Dax called her senior staff together to brief them on the new mission. Peter Alden sat at the opposite end of the table. No, not sat. Slumped. He looked exhausted.
“Seeing as you’re all bright and able graduates of Starfleet Academy,” Dax said, “I imagine you’ve already gathered that we’re no longer delivering Commander Alden to the Enterprise. Our mission instead is to take him to the Venetan Outpost V-4, where the Tzenkethi are currently making free with the outpost’s facilities.”
“And all within spitting distance of Starbase 261,”Security Chief Kedair noted, as Alden brought up the relevant star charts. “What exactly do you mean by ‘making free,’ Captain?”
“That, as they say, is the question,” Dax replied. “The purpose of our journey is to observe what’s going on. The story the Venetans are putting out is that it’s a trading agreement, plain and simple. Goods coming in, goods going out. Everyone happy. However, Commander Alden and his colleagues”—she nodded down the table and he nodded back—“fear darker purposes behind this arrangement.” She stared again at the star chart. “It is damned convenient that these bases all lie on the border . . .” She shook herself. Remember, Ezri, we know nothing yet, nothing substantial. “But we need proof of any plan to militarize these bases. The Venetans insist they have nothing to hide, but it’s a delicate situation, and we can’t
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