Terok Nor_ Day Of The Vipers Part 17

"Fallout from that business in Dahkur. It's a vigil, or some such. People angry about the Militia using violence to break up the demonstration. They're holding them in every province."

Darrah didn't reply. In all the activity after the Lhemor Lhemor bombing, it had almost slipped his mind that there had been unrest of a different kind outside the Carda.s.sian Emba.s.sy across the continent. There had been injuries, civilians fighting constables. bombing, it had almost slipped his mind that there had been unrest of a different kind outside the Carda.s.sian Emba.s.sy across the continent. There had been injuries, civilians fighting constables. What is happening to us? What is happening to us? The question echoed through his head. It seemed like every time Darrah looked up, he saw more signs that his planet was losing its way. The question echoed through his head. It seemed like every time Darrah looked up, he saw more signs that his planet was losing its way.

"Remember when all we had to deal with were honest criminals and the odd smuggler here and there?" Proka had picked up on his mood; he was intuitive that way, which was one of the reasons Darrah used him as his second in command. He made a tutting noise under his breath as they entered the building.

Inside, the precinct was an exercise in controlled chaos. The entrance atrium was full of people pus.h.i.+ng and shoving. One group was singing a hymn and holding duranja duranjas, the ceremonial lamps lit to honor the newly dead, but the majority of them were calling out for the attention of the duty officers. Some were asking after friends and family who'd been on Cemba, others were just ordinary people frightened by the things they had seen on the newsfeeds.

He saw a familiar face among them, a man threading his way toward the exit and making little headway. "Syjin."

The pilot turned and pressed through the crowd to them. "Mace, Migdal. Hey."

"What are you doing here?"

Syjin managed a weak facsimile of his usual broad smile. "The, uh, port authority called me in." He showed them a datadisk in his hand. "My s.h.i.+p's been released from impound because of what happened in orbit. Apparently, they rushed through the paperwork and cleared me for flight status."

"Because of the bombing?" Proka asked.

Syjin nodded. "The s.p.a.ce Guard has called in all available civilian s.h.i.+ps on planet, and that includes mine. All qualified captains have been seconded to the emergency management bureau to a.s.sist with the cleanup operations. There's a lot of wreckage drifting around up there, and the military needs all the help they can get making it safe." He licked his lips. "I should thank you again. If you hadn't vouched for me, I wouldn't have a s.h.i.+p at all, wouldn't be able to help."

Darrah took it in. He knew that Coldri's forces were stretched thin, but he hadn't realized the situation was severe enough to force them to deputize civilian crews. "I thought the station's core was still intact."

"Mostly," Syjin replied. "The explosion knocked it out of position and it's settled into a decaying orbit. From what I heard from the other crews, it looks like it'll have to be towed out by tugs and sc.r.a.pped." He blinked and looked away. "I knew a lot of good people on Cemba."

Darrah nodded, his angry mood dissipating in the face of his friend's simple grief. Bajor's shuttle crews and freight pilots were a small community and a tight-knit bunch. He had no doubt that tonight a lot of absent friends would be toasted in starport bars across the planet.

For a moment, an uncharacteristic flare of hate crossed the pilot's face. "You catch those Tzenkethi b.a.s.t.a.r.ds who did this, Mace."

"We don't know for sure it was them," he said carefully.

Syjin eyed him. "It's all across the 'feeds. They said they were trying to a.s.sa.s.sinate the kai."

Proka's brow furrowed. "She wasn't even up there."

"That blowhard from Qui'al was on the broadcast. Kubus. He practically blamed the Guard for not stopping it."

"You saw it?" Darrah asked.

Syjin shook his head. "No, Karys told me. She saw-"

"Karys?" Darrah was brought up short by the mention of his wife. "You talked to her?"

The pilot pointed in the direction of the offices. "Sure. She was here, with another constable, the dark-haired girl. She was pretty upset, looked like she had been crying."

Darrah broke away and pushed his way back into the precinct.

He found her on the upper level, in an interview room. Light from the fading day filtered in through the window blinds. Constable Myda was with her, working a tricorder. Karys was pale, her face streaked with tear tracks. She clutched a tissue between her fingers. There was an untouched cup of deka deka tea on the table in front of her. Both women looked up as Mace slid open the door. tea on the table in front of her. Both women looked up as Mace slid open the door.

"Karys?" The tone of his voice was enough to communicate what he was afraid of.

She shook her head. "Bajin and Nell are fine, they're at services."

A strange mixture of fear and elation shot through him. He was so pleased that his children were safe, and yet the look on his wife's face was enough to tell him that something was very wrong. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrored window of the observation room next door. He saw the same cold terror there that he had witnessed every time he had been forced to give someone bad news. Your son has been killed. Your wife is missing. We're doing all we can. I'm sorry. Your son has been killed. Your wife is missing. We're doing all we can. I'm sorry.

He blinked, snapping himself out of the moment. "What happened?"

Karys stifled a sniff. "Mace, wait. Just let me do this." She nodded to Myda. "I'm ready."

"All right," said the constable, giving her commander a quick glance. Myda aimed the tricorder at the table and thumbed a control, and abruptly Darrah realized what was going on.

The small holographic playback emitter inside the device cast a fan of orange-hued light across the table, and the shape of a dead man's torso and head appeared, rendered in a ghostly laser glow. Karys made a choking sound deep in her throat and nodded once. Myda tapped the control again and the image disappeared.

"The likeness data was sent from the emergency bureau facility in Ilvia, sir," she told him quietly. "I'm sorry, Inspector. Your office should have been informed automatically."

"I was in Ashalla," he replied. "I wouldn't have gotten the message." Mercifully, the face of the dead man had been free of any serious injury. He'd handled many of these identifications himself in his days as a street officer, and he knew the signs, the visible mismatching where the medical computers had made a virtual reconstruction of a countenance instead of the real thing. At least Karys had been spared that.

"It's him," said his wife. "That's my cousin, Jarel."

"Ident.i.ty confirmed by next of kin," Myda said into the tricorder. The device gave an answering beep.

"What was he doing on Cemba?" asked Mace. "I never knew he was there..."

"He was...he was supervising the transport of some materials. Mistwood from Rigel, for a piece he was working on." She sniffed again. "That's Jarel. He obsesses over the details."

Mace hadn't known the man well; he remembered him vaguely from family gatherings, a gangly fellow with a braying laugh. Mace had always been an outsider at those things.

"You should have contacted me," he told Karys. "I would have done this for you."

"You were in Ashalla," she repeated, a razor under her words.

He felt each one hit him, guilt striking like ice in his gut. Mace shot Myda a look. "Can you give us some privacy, Constable?"

Myda nodded. "I'm done, sir. There were no personal effects. Your wife's free to leave."

When the door closed he went to her and held her, but Karys was rigid. "Talk to me," he said finally.

"This is too much," she told him. "After the explosion and then I thought you were gone, but you were safe and..." Karys choked off a sob. "And now Jarel. It's made me realize something, Mace. Something I've been hiding from, denying to myself."

"Tell me."

She pushed away from him. "I'm afraid, afraid, Mace! I'm afraid all the time now, for myself, for the children, for my family, for you...I see those aliens everywhere I go, and if not them then people who are angry about them being here, or angry with the government and the Watch...I don't know this place anymore!" Fresh tears crossed her cheeks. "I think we should go." Mace! I'm afraid all the time now, for myself, for the children, for my family, for you...I see those aliens everywhere I go, and if not them then people who are angry about them being here, or angry with the government and the Watch...I don't know this place anymore!" Fresh tears crossed her cheeks. "I think we should go."

"Go? You mean, leave Korto?"

"I mean leave Bajor!" Bajor!" she shot back. she shot back.

He was incredulous. "Karys, how can you say that? This is our world. This is our home."

She went to the exterior window and snapped open the blinds. Mace saw the people outside the precinct, tired and angry faces lit by lamps. "But for how much longer?" Karys's question hung in the air, and Mace found he had no answer for her.

12.

The light winds across the plains ruffled the white domes of the enclave's pavilions, the smartplastic pergolas snapping and clicking against their duranium supports. The Bajorans would have considered the day to be hot, with a close and unfocused heat radiating down from a sky shrouded in thin cloud, but by Carda.s.sian standards it was cool and temperate. Pasir crossed through the open alleys between the prefabricated buildings, his head down, with the hood of his robes up and his hands lost inside the folds of the sleeves.

The majority of the thermoconcrete blockhouses were outwardly identical, with only various two-digit reference numbers laser-burned into the lintels to differentiate one from another. Any locals who pa.s.sed through this part of the enclave would be struck by the bland similarity and walk on. They would have had to stay for several hours to notice that certain groups of Carda.s.sians never ventured inside certain buildings. It had been made clear to the Oralians with discreet but steady menace that any blockhouse with a code number above three was off-limits to them; and there were lots of three buildings and four buildings, even a larger five and a six under construction beneath another of the ma.s.sive sunshades. And then there were the devices attached to the dome-tents that looked like thermal regulators but were actually something quite different. The surfaces of the pavilions were clever constructions, a sandwich of energy-conductive layers that, if correctly programmed, could give the impression of heat sources and metallic objects moving beneath it-or make the same appear invisible. Even the most naive of the Oralians knew that the Bajoran s.p.a.ce Guard had surveillance satellites observing every enclave on the planet.

Pasir smiled a greeting at a couple of pilgrims pa.s.sing in the other direction, and he came to the open s.p.a.ce in the dead center of the enclave compound. There was a small fountain there, and it drew the attention of every Carda.s.sian who pa.s.sed it; the sight of water being used for something so frivolous as a decoration was fascinating to them. A natural spring was a closely guarded resource on a world like Carda.s.sia Prime, where even the energy cost to replicate something as simple as potable water was rationed by the government inspectorate. Here, on Bajor, water was disposable.

Of course, the construction of the fountain was not something that had happened by chance; the Union had the practice of architectural psychology down to a fine art. Just as the capital cities of Carda.s.sia had looming watch-towers and intimidating statuary to reinforce the state's symbolic power over the individual, so the fountain had been built here to reinforce certain emotions in the minds of those who lived in the enclave. Pasir sat on the lip of it and cupped a hand in the clear water, taking a sip.

"Excuse me." It was a woman's voice. "How long is it until sunset?"

The priest glanced up and found a somber-faced female backlit by the afternoon sky. "Oh, please forgive me. I'm afraid I left my chronometer in the refectory."

"Ah," she nodded. "It is difficult to reckon the hours here, don't you find?"

"Quite." He returned her nod. His next words were in the same light tone of voice. "You have something for me."

Rhan Ico shook her head, matching the flat, conversational speech level. "Not at the moment. But we're going to move soon. I'm in the last stages of preparing the process for your insertion. It's not your first experience of this?"

Pasir's narrow face remained fixed in a pleasant smile. "I'm sure you've read enough about me to know the depth of my experience. I'm quite ready."

She nodded. "I understand it can be painful." When he didn't answer, she spoke again. "Congratulations are in order, by the way. Your work aboard the Lhemor... Lhemor... The effect has been exactly as we hoped. Better, even." The effect has been exactly as we hoped. Better, even."

He looked away, watching for any observers. The gesture seemed casual. "I admit that I was forced to improvise in the aftermath. Fortunately, I was not placed in a position where I had to compromise my legend." Pasir smiled briefly. "I underestimated the resourcefulness of Bennek and the Bajoran law enforcer." He spread his hands. "Oralius protects, "Oralius protects, as they say." as they say."

Ico gave him a level stare. "Or so they hope." She sighed. "I've grown weary of hearing their dogma every day, but Kell has ensured that I remain posted here instead of at the emba.s.sy in Dahkur."

"He suspects?"

"Of course. He's not a fool. But he knows little." She gestured around. "This is his small way of attempting to spite me."

"Ah." Pasir's head bobbed. "A petty man, then. But you have made good use of your posting on Bajor. The intelligence you've acc.u.mulated is quite compelling." He paused, thinking. "But Dukat...He appears to be a serious concern."

"Leave Dukat to me," said Ico. "He's young and ambitious, and a staunch patriot. Despite his loathing for us, I think I can use that to make him work to our agenda."

The priest took another sip of water. "Tread carefully, Rhan. He is the random factor here."

"I know."

"Should I be aware of anything else?"

She frowned slightly. "One of my subordinates-from my legend, you understand?-a man named Pa'Dar. He's exhibiting some rather independent behavior, sniffing around in areas outside his responsibility."

Pasir made an affirmative noise. "Removal, then?"

Ico shook her head. "No, that would be too problematic at this stage. Pa'Dar's family is well connected with the Detapa Council. His death would raise too many questions. Just be aware."

"I always am," said the priest. He paused and glanced down at his hands. "Regarding the...insertion. I'm concerned there may not be enough time for a full-"

She shook her head. "We are working on an accelerated timetable in that area, yes. But everything is in hand. As I told you, the moment is being prepared for. In the interim, we'll begin some of the less visible corrections."

"As you wish." The hollow sound of a gong rang through the clearing, and Pasir got to his feet.

"What is that?" asked the woman.

"The call to vespers," he explained. "I'm a.s.sisting Bennek in the recitation tonight, and I must prepare. He wants to make some sort of speech at the funeral service tomorrow."

Ico's lip curled. "Thank you for reminding me. I must find a convincing reason not to attend. I do find theological rituals so offensive."

"Ah, pity them, Rhan." Pasir's tone was lightly mocking. "The Oralians have so little left now. They're almost extinct."

"Yes," she agreed. "When the time comes, we will have to work harder to expunge the Bajoran faith. It will not be so easy with the aliens."

Pasir walked away. "One step at a time," he said, without looking back.

The voices of the a.s.sembled hundreds in the grounds of the Naghai Keep pealed off the walls of the ancient castle, swelling the verses of old High Bajoran as the death chant neared its conclusion. As tradition had it, the families of each of the D'jarra D'jarras would speak a few lines, then pause as others picked up where they left off, but there were many who felt so strongly that they spoke the entirety of the chant, tears on their faces and throats cracking with emotion. There had been some suggestions that morning of policing the approach roads to the keep, to try to hold the numbers at the remembrance ceremony down to a minimum. Darrah Mace looked over the sloping ornamental gardens, at the throng gathered there, and realized that he had made the right choice ordering Proka to put away the barricades. Korto was united in grief, just like every city on Bajor. The ritual would give the people the closure they needed to bring the Cemba incident into sharp relief. Those who had lost someone they cared for would know that the Prophets were watching over them, and those who were afraid would have, at least for today, the unity of their neighbors around them.

Karys was holding hands with the children, their heads bowed. She'd hardly spoken to him since their conversation in the precinct, spending time on the comm trying to gather together the remnants of Jarel's diffuse life. Her cousin had no partner, no parents or siblings of his own left to mourn him, and Karys's mother, ever insensitive, was not sorry to see him gone. It fell to Mace's wife to arrange his burial, but she had refused point-blank any offer of a.s.sistance. Bajin caught his eye and nodded solemnly; his son had stepped in to help Karys without any request on her part, and the boy's quiet support made his father proud. Nell remained morose. She was still finding it hard to process, that some alien beings from light-years distant would come to Bajor to kill her uncle. Mace hated the fact that he had no explanation to offer her.

The lawman felt a heavy sense of dread pressing down upon him. In a blink of memory, he thought back to the Eleda Eleda ceremony and the deaths that had brought that to pa.s.s. Changes had been wrought that day, and now the same was happening here again. The road to the future was being marked out in the blood of Bajoran men and women. The horrific image made him shudder, and with a sudden, terrible certainty, Darrah Mace knew that what was happening today would not be an end to it. He saw himself standing in the same place, his face lined with stress, and blood there on the streets, the funeral chant repeated over and over into infinity. A million deaths, and a million more, more and more and more- ceremony and the deaths that had brought that to pa.s.s. Changes had been wrought that day, and now the same was happening here again. The road to the future was being marked out in the blood of Bajoran men and women. The horrific image made him shudder, and with a sudden, terrible certainty, Darrah Mace knew that what was happening today would not be an end to it. He saw himself standing in the same place, his face lined with stress, and blood there on the streets, the funeral chant repeated over and over into infinity. A million deaths, and a million more, more and more and more- The ringing of the Bell of Souls shattered his moment of dark insight, and Darrah blinked, feeling cold sweat on his neck. He forced away the images in his mind and swallowed hard. Some distance away, on the podium set up among the ornamental gardens, Kai Meressa was being helped down from the dais by Gar and Tima. She had stood for the entirety of the chant, despite her fragility. Darrah watched her descend the steps. The kai seemed unreal, like a thin papery sketch of the woman he had first seen in the flesh five years ago. It was hard to reconcile the sight of her with the vital, pa.s.sionate preacher of the past. That she held on steadfastly to life was a testament to her strength of will, and even the most dissenting of voices in the Vedek a.s.sembly did not dare to speak openly of inviting Meressa to give up her rank and retire. Truth be told, there was not a man or woman among her subordinates who had so captured the hearts of the Bajoran people as Meressa had; when she finally left them, he had no doubt it would throw the church into disarray. Darrah forced himself to look away, the specter of death pressing in on his thoughts all over again.

Vedek Arin said some words. The plat.i.tudes seemed to work on the mourners, but to Darrah they fell on stony ground. He heard the echo of Meressa's voice in them, and wondered how much of the kai's prose the bland little priest had sifted through to gather material for his own speech; but it was with surprise that he looked again at the podium and saw the Oralian cleric Bennek step up and draw back his hood.

The alien's face was streaked with dark tears, and the simple power of the emotional display silenced all the Bajorans ranged around him. Carda.s.sians were gray and dour, they were cold and pa.s.sionless-that was the commonplace, trite perception of their race. The raw grief that flooded from Bennek was real and potent; it was shocking, in its own way.

He spoke, his voice crossing the gardens. "I am moved beyond my capacity to describe," began the cleric, his gaze seeking out faces in the crowd at random. "You, our brothers and sisters of Bajor, have taken the hand of friends.h.i.+p from my people, and this horror has been your reward. I am filled with such depthless sorrow as I have never known. Like many of you, people who were important to me were taken, swept away in fire, and it is for them that I join you in prayer today. The souls of all those lost on Cemba Station, aboard the Lhemor Lhemor and the other vessels, they were stolen from us by vengeful hearts and heartless, callous killers..." Bennek choked back a sob, and despite himself Darrah felt a p.r.i.c.kling in his eyes as his heart tightened in empathy; but the cleric's next words stopped the breath in his throat. "I see a path unfolding before our worlds. As Oralius blesses me and your Prophets do the same, I see it. It is a road watered by bloodshed and fear, forced upon us by those who seed darkness upon the light." He raised his hands. "All of us, Bajoran and Carda.s.sian...we stand upon the threshold of this path, and we must choose wisely or else we doom ourselves to the darkest of futures. We must not embrace hate and fear, even in the face of such terrible consequences. Avarice and greed will poison us. We must look to tomorrow with our eyes open and clarity in our hearts, we must listen to the powers that watch over us. I will strive to be better than I am, and I know you will do the same in the name of the Prophets." Bennek brought his hands together. "Only in accord can we turn away from the dark road. Only in unity can Bajor and Carda.s.sia find the way." And with that, Bennek's shoulders slumped, as if all the energy in the man had been spent in the flood of his outburst. "I...I weep with you," he husked, and stepped away from the podium. Darrah saw Tima at the foot of the platform; like many of the people in the crowd, she had been profoundly moved by the cleric's sincerity. and the other vessels, they were stolen from us by vengeful hearts and heartless, callous killers..." Bennek choked back a sob, and despite himself Darrah felt a p.r.i.c.kling in his eyes as his heart tightened in empathy; but the cleric's next words stopped the breath in his throat. "I see a path unfolding before our worlds. As Oralius blesses me and your Prophets do the same, I see it. It is a road watered by bloodshed and fear, forced upon us by those who seed darkness upon the light." He raised his hands. "All of us, Bajoran and Carda.s.sian...we stand upon the threshold of this path, and we must choose wisely or else we doom ourselves to the darkest of futures. We must not embrace hate and fear, even in the face of such terrible consequences. Avarice and greed will poison us. We must look to tomorrow with our eyes open and clarity in our hearts, we must listen to the powers that watch over us. I will strive to be better than I am, and I know you will do the same in the name of the Prophets." Bennek brought his hands together. "Only in accord can we turn away from the dark road. Only in unity can Bajor and Carda.s.sia find the way." And with that, Bennek's shoulders slumped, as if all the energy in the man had been spent in the flood of his outburst. "I...I weep with you," he husked, and stepped away from the podium. Darrah saw Tima at the foot of the platform; like many of the people in the crowd, she had been profoundly moved by the cleric's sincerity.

There were no problems as the crowd dispersed. Darrah watched with one eye, afraid that someone, some bereaved person angry at the world for their loss, would lash out; there was none. Instead, a somber stream of mourners threaded out of the gardens in cl.u.s.ters, supporting each other through their grief.

As they joined the departing groups, he spotted a gathering of figures and heard the snap of a raised voice. Karys shot him a sideways look, a warning, but he chose to ignore it and drifted closer. Mace saw the drifting shape of a camera drone and a news crew, and abruptly he knew who they were crowding around.