“Rachel, he wasn’t suffocating. He had plenty of air. Halak said Strong popped his seal because he was desperate for air. Halak’s story fits, ifyou’re hypoxic. People do the damnedest things in those situations. But the evidence says that Strong wasn’t that far gone. In fact, Halak’s tissues demonstrated a more severe and sustained hypoxia than Strong’s, and that doesjibe. Strong’s suit wasdamaged and Halak said that he gave the lion’s share of Thex’s air to Strong to compensate. But the bottom line, Rachel: When Strong died, he had plenty of air. Strong had no reason to pop that seal. Absolutely. None. Burke, or whoever she is…she was right.”
“Oh, hell.” Garrett exhaled, closed her eyes. “Hell.”
“Told you it was bad.”
“Damn it, Jo.” Garrett fixed Stern with a despairing look. “Where is the truth anywherehere?”
“Beats the hell out of me. But that brings me to my observation. Since when did we volunteer for the espionage business?”
“When Starfleet Command volunteered us.” Garrett sighed. She was so tired of lies and subterfuge. “Look, I know Kodell’s got a point. I even agree: Starfleet Intelligence isn’t being straight with us—not that anyoneis, it seems. Burke and Sivek—I guess I’ll just call them that until I know who they really are—they’re only part of the equation. There’s something else SI knows, or suspects but doesn’t want to say. Something the Cardassians have, or SI thinksthey have.”
“Like?”
“Theory? The Cardassians are into expansion. We know that. So maybe they’re developing a new weapons system. Cloaking technology, maybe. I don’t know. I’ll tell you one thing, though.” Garrett looked grim. “This isn’t about drugs, not anymore.”
“If it ever was,” said Stern.
Garrett made a vague gesture with one hand. “Oh, Starfleet cares about the Qatala, and the Orion Syndicate, but they’re much smaller headaches compared to the Cardassians. In the end, the Cardassians are a bigger threat than all the red ice the Qatala or Syndicate can deliver. Starfleet’s out to prevent a war before it can start.”
“Well, let’s hope we don’t give the Cardassians an excuse.” Stern scraped her chair back and stood. “You know, Rachel, you said you didn’t want to throw Halak to the wolves. I’m with you on that, if for nothing else than I want to understand what’s going on once and for all. But you sure as hell didn’t say anything about a lion’s den.”
Chapter 28
Stewing in his own juices: that’s what Dalal would’ve said. This was apt, seeing as he hadn’t showered in two days or changed his clothes. Halak had turned things over so many times in his head, his brain felt like a bruised apple. Things just didn’t compute. First, Starfleet Intelligence showed up. Then they produced records. Some of them were true. Most of them weren’t. They claimed Dalal never existed and that Arava was gone. And then to top it all off, after disgracing him in front of his captain and crewmates, SI wanted himto do thema favor. Actually, blackmail was more like it. They needed a fall guy, pure and simple. So they’d picked Halak, just as they’d done before.
A fall guy.Halak lay on his back, hands clasped behind his head, staring at the ceiling of his tiny quarters, finding nothing of interest there and not expecting there to be anything of interest in the near, or distant future. He had nowhere to go, no place to be. Well, not yet, anyway. Soon enough: Burke said they’d come out of warp within the next five hours. Then things were bound to get dicey, and Halak probably wouldn’t have time to ponder an obscure idiom that so neatly summed up his situation. Glemoor would have been pleased.
First scenario: If anything went wrong—if the Cardassians discovered him—he’d be the one who took the blame for Starfleet Intelligence. He’d be painted as a rogue officer who’d escaped while in custody and gone off on some personal vendetta.
Or second scenario: If he didn’trun into the Cardassians but managed to end up getting himself killed in the process—by one of Qadir’s men, say—Starfleet Intelligence still came up smelling like roses (an idiom even Glemoor understood without requiring an explanation). Getting himself killed would tidy things up considerably for Starfleet Intelligence, actually. It might even be preferable because it would prove SI’s theory that Halak had been in on Qadir’s network of operations all along.
Either way, it was win-win for SI, with Halak the loser in any scenario except one. He just might succeed.
“Are we absolutely clear on this?” Burke had asked after she’d explained what Starfleet Intelligence wanted. “Do you understand exactly what you’re supposed to do?”
Halak had nodded. After recovering from the initial shock of Burke’s overture, Halak had listened, very carefully, as the Starfleet Intelligence agent outlined the mission. So he understood the implications, perfectly. “No problem on the details. I think the gist is that I’m supposed to do something fairly illegal. Trespass into disputed territory, secure the specs and schematics of this intradimensional portal, or whatever you call it, then manage to get back to the T’Polwithout getting caught by the Cardassians, or murdered by one of Qadir’s men who you claim are, at this very moment, crawling all over the same area, looking for a portal that may, or may not exist. I just don’t get why you think this portal exists at all. On the basis of what? A couple of legends about a race no one knows for sure existed?”
“The fact that the Qatala’s financing this operation tells us something,” said Burke. “Money may not mean anything to us,but there are many to whom it does. It comes down to this, Halak. If the Hebitians were on this planet, then they got there somehow. Ships, maybe. But a portal is much more likely given what the Cardassians believe about them. The Cardassians have never, so far as we know, found any artifacts consistent with a spacefaring race. So if they’re Hebitian ruins, they got there through a portal. It’s the only explanation.”
“What if they were seeded?”
“By what? Some benevolent god-race? Those are just stories, Halak. Anyway, even if there isn’t a portal, there may be a tomb, and if all Qadir finds is a bunch of jevonite, gold, and jewels, that’s still worth his time and effort, particularly when he’s not the one risking his neck.”
“But Starfleet Intelligence thinks there’s more.”
“Absolutely. Why would the Cardassians bother patrolling a planet where there’s nothing of value? Sure, the space is disputed, but they pay particular attention to that particular planet, and get very touchy if any Federation vessels request a flyby. In fact, I don’t think any Federation vessel is allowed to get close.”
“So, by a process of elimination, assuming it’s not a research facility, you’ve decided that the most likely scenario is some artifact the Cardassians can’t use but want to keep to themselves until they can.” Halak had cocked his head to one side. “Okay. A little tautological, if you ask me.”
“But I’m not asking you, Commander.” Burke had given him a dry look. “I’m telling you.”
“I noticed. But why me? I’m a killer, right? Murder my crewmates at the drop of a hat? Plus, I’m supposed to be in cahoots with Qadir, or want to take over, or something equally inane. Whatever I am, I’m most certainly notan agent, despite anything I got volunteered for in the past. Why not send trained personnel to infiltrate Qadir’s network, or a couple of operatives to this planet?”