Tain smiled. “Good.” He handed Entek a padd. “This contains a list of your staff. Feel free to make any amendments to the team that you feel are necessary.”
Happily, Entek took the padd. At last, a supervisor, and in the assignment I have longed for.
For the third time, Corbin Entek left Enabran Tain’s office with his life and his career intact. This he considered a sign of skill and success in his chosen field. He felt confident in his ability to continue that success.
It had been many years since Legate Zarin had been invited to Legate Kell’s office on Cardassia. The view from the picture window in the north wall was, if anything, more impressive, as this section of the capital city had been built up quite a bit over the past few years. The spoils of conquest,he thought. Cardassia was strong, and growing stronger every day.
To Zarin’s relief, Kell had apparently gotten over his Lissepian phase. The paintings that now decorated the west wall were primarily Bajoran. In addition to making fine laborers, Bajorans drew very pretty pictures. Perhaps when I take over this office,Zarin thought wistfully, I will keep the artwork.
Kell’s old urall-skin couch had long since been replaced by a much more comfortable one made of kereshide from Chin’toka VI. Zarin sat on it now, with Kell sitting in the same conformer chair he’d had for over twenty years.
Holding up his glass of kanarin toast, Kell said, “To victory over the Klingons.”
“To victory.”
After gulping down his kanarin as boorish a manner as Zarin would have expected from him, Kell set down the glass. “Of course, that victory was a long time coming. Longer than it should have been.”
Zarin didn’t like the sound of that.
Kell smiled. “Don’t look so concerned, Zarin. I know you and Monor did your best. And Raknal V will make a fine addition to the Cardassian Union. Such a pity that all your efforts went to waste.”
“We did all that we could within Ambassador Dax’s constraints to—”
“That’s notwhat I’m referring to, Legate. And you know it.” Kell leaned on the table that sat between them and tossed a padd at Zarin. The younger legate frowned as he keyed the display. It showed a transcript of a conversation Zarin had with Monor regarding the sabotage of the communications systems on the Klingon vessel Chut.Thanks to the catastrophe on the Gratok,the sabotage wound up having a somewhat different effect—to wit, preventing the Chutfrom hearing the panic signal—from what was intended, though the end result of killing the entire complement of the Chutwas the same.
“What of it?” Zarin asked. “You told Monor and me to do whatever it took to ensure that we secured our claim to Raknal V.”
Kell stood up. “Legate Zarin, I am appalled! Do you truly believe that I would authorize actions that would lead to the deaths of a hundred Klingons?”
Staring coldly up at Kell, Zarin said, “Yes, I do believe that you would.”
Laughing, Kell sat back down. “Perhaps, but I’m not the one on the transcript—which, by the way, is also in the hands of the Obsidian Order.”
Zarin wondered if it was the Order who provided Kell with the transcript or the other way around. The fact that Kell was nonspecific led Zarin to think it was the former. Kell would never admit to being beholden to the Order for anything.
“What is it you want, Kell? Obviously, you don’t intend to release this publicly.”
“Why would I release it publicly?” Kell finished off his kanar.“Much better, I think, to release it to the Klingons. I’m sure the descendants of the Chutvictims would love to know who was responsible for their deaths.”
Rolling his eyes, Zarin said, “You haven’t answered my question, Kell.” These threats were pointless. If Kell wanted Zarin humiliated or dead, the padd would be in the hands of the Detapa Council or the Klingons already.
“You opposed the construction of Terok Nor over Bajor, and convinced several other legates to join that opposition. You will change your position. We need Terok Nor to facilitate the uridium processing.”
Zarin was about to point out what a colossal waste of money constructing an orbital station would be—but there was no point. Kell had already heard these arguments when the subject was debated. If Zarin couldn’t convince him then, he wouldn’t convince him now—especially when Kell had blackmail material.
After several moments, Zarin finally answered. “I cannot guarantee that all the legates who supported my nay vote will switch.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Zarin, just the fact that you have switched your vote will be more than sufficient to convince enough of them.” Kell stood up. “Now get out of my office. And Zarin?”
Zarin stood up. “Yes?”
Kell indicated the picture window. “Don’tget used to that view. You won’t be taking over this office for a long time yet.”
We’ll see,Zarin thought angrily as he left.
Chapter 39
Raknal V
“Governor, theWo’bortas has arrived to pick us up.”
Qaolin almost choked on his bloodwine at that. Once again, fortune sees fit to spit in my drink.The final indignity in a lifetime of indignities: the very vessel whose command he had to give up to take over this shipwreck of an assignment was the one that would take him away from it.
He looked around at the run-down office that had been his home for eighteen years. The weapons and artwork and furniture had all been packed up and would be transferred to the Wo’bortascargo bay. Knowing the Cardassians, they would probably condemn all the Klingon construction and replace it with their own hideous architecture. Good. The idea of any of those lifeless cowards making use of Klingon buildings is revolting.
Taking another gulp of bloodwine, Qaolin laughed. So this is what it’s come to. I had hoped that the deaths on theChut or the collapse of that building would finally end this battle. Even the Cardassians transplanting those damned fish of theirs might have finally led the Great Curzon to declare a victor in this tiresome little war we have been fighting. Instead, it was a simple change in power. A battle that should have been won is instead ended by politics.He drank more bloodwine, emptying the bottle. How I hate politics.
Qaolin had no idea what he was going to do next. After giving it a great deal of consideration, he was seriously tempted to just go home—or perhaps not even that, but take his share of the holdings of his House and purchase some land on a distant world of the Empire. I can spend my days hunting and my nights drinking. That might not be a bad way to occupy the rest of my life.
Then he opened the drawer of the empty desk and retrieved the one item he had not packed up.
A vintage bottle of bloodwine from the Ozhpri vintner. I’ve been saving this for when I was victorious over Monor and had restored Ch’gran to our people.
Of course, he had lost to Monor, and Ch’gran’s restoration would be at the hands of diplomats and politicians. Damn Monor, he beat me.What was worst was that the Cardassian had not shown any signs of weakening. Qaolin had arrived at Raknal V swearing he would not let Monor take Ch’gran from him. A vibrant young man, he was fresh from his first command, with a good life and career ahead of him. He had proven himself to be quick-witted, strong, and one who could thrive in the volatile atmosphere of the Defense Force. Now, he was leaving Raknal V, Monor having succeeded in taking Ch’gran. A drunken wreck with a broken spirit and few prospects, Qaolin was dull-witted, weak, and wouldn’t last a minute on a Defense Force ship.