Star Trek: ALL - Seven Deadly Sins (21 page)

Kein spent a lot of the trip in the warp core chamber second-guessing Glinn Telso, the
Lakar
’s obtuse engineer, and expending much of her irritation on him, under the guise of getting the escort into top fighting condition. Some might have thought it bad practice for a new executive officer, perhaps sending signals to the crew that she was undermining the harried junior officer, but Kein cared little about that. Central Command’s punishing tolerances, already as thin as blades and difficult to hold to, were made thinner still by Kein. By the time the barbed ring of Tantok Nor loomed large before
Lakar
’s bow, the drive crews had been drilled to within an inch of their lives. She could tell by the look in Telso’s eyes that he was building a hate for her. Kein was pleased about that, on some level. He would be a reflection of her, she decided, and in him she would see the same face she would present to her new captain.

For his part, Dal Enkoa settled into his new role well, as though he’d been born to it. Command, even of a minnow of a ship like this one, fitted him well as long as he wasn’t being challenged by it. He made the crew follow the rules, but he had that easy smile, ready there for his subordinates. Kein could see the crew starting to like him, but then, they didn’t know him, not yet. They didn’t know that he could get them killed, when the moment of truth came. But the
Lakar
hovered at the back of the flotilla, off the main axis where the big
Galor
-class ships moved like deep-ocean predators. There were no threats to face, not yet.

During the voyage, she stood her shifts at command while Enkoa was at rest or in his cabin eating up bandwidth on subspace to the jagul’s waiflike neice. Those moments on the bridge, with a starship at her fingertips, should have been a joy to her. Instead, it was a sour experience. She never once took the command throne, never sat, just prowled the tier around it, coiled and hawkish. It was as if the chair were marked somehow, as if it stank of Enkoa and Hanno and their clubbish, elitist camaraderie.

All this, Kein kept out of sight and silent, of course. Control was a lesson that Cardassian women learned very early on, and they were far better at it than the males. She thought about the face she was showing
the bridge crew, and once more Gul Tunol came to mind. Cold and dour Meka Tunol—had she stood in the same place where Sanir was now? It was likely.

They entered orbit around Tantok and the crews took the sparse liberty they were granted with gusto, most notably the men under Glinn Telso’s stewardship. Kein took her leave of the ship too, suddenly overcome by the need to see something different from the low ceilings of the
Lakar
and Enkoa’s constant half smile. There were places to eat and drink on the station’s promenade, so Kein found a secluded booth in an open-fronted refectory, where she could sit unseen and brood without fear of being disturbed. Taking pursed-lipped sips of warm Rokassa juice, she let her focus drift and played a game with herself. She tried to remember the last time she had felt an emotion that wasn’t annoyance, contempt, or disgust.

Nothing came to mind. She fingered her rank sigil and watched the people passing.

“Sanir!” A hand on her shoulder. She turned and looked up to find Enkoa grinning down at her. He nodded at the drink on the table. “Last little flavor of home before we make for the border, eh?”

“Sir,” she nodded. “Something like that.” In truth, the
Lakar
’s replicators were perfectly capable of making passable Rokassa juice, but she saw no point in mentioning it.

He seemed to catch something of her mood. The smile dialed down a little and his voice became low, more intimate. “I haven’t had the opportunity to say this since we left port, but I want to thank you.” He paused, expecting her to acknowledge him, and when she didn’t he continued. “The work you have done with Telso and the engineers … exemplary. The jagul told me that our ship is the most warp-efficient of our class in the flotilla. He’s impressed.”

He thinks I’m doing it for him.
Kein made her face even once more.

Enkoa’s smile finally faded completely. “Sanir, I know … I know you deserved more than just a commendation after what happened on the
Rekkel.
That’s why I wanted you for my executive officer.” His hand tightened on her shoulder. “This is going to be a great opportunity for both of us. This is just the start.” And the smile came back, bright and white and unchanging.

“Dal.” Enkoa turned as the rich timbre of Hanno’s voice crossed the promenade. Kein saw the jagul and a knot of command-tier officers, all captains and executives, talking and joking in rough humor, moving toward the shuttlebays. Hanno threw a beckoning gesture in their direction and kept walking.

“The jagul has invited all the senior officers to Kelrabi IX,” Enkoa explained. “There’s a fishery down there, with a superlative restaurant. Apparently, it’s a personal tradition of his. He buys a meal for all his subordinates before embarking on a new tour of duty.”

“Oh,” said Kein. She hadn’t been aware that this was expected of her. “Of course.” She turned in her chair to reach for her overjacket, but Enkoa kept speaking, patting her on the shoulder once more.

“So, I will see you back on the ship.” He flashed the grin and walked away, leaving her there.

Kein froze, feeling foolish, the jacket in her fist, and watched him draw into the group, instantly making some comment that brought forth laughter. She watched them go, all of them, none of them casting a glance back.

Enkoa was the last to pass through the hatch, the last to leave her behind. She gripped the Rokassa glass tightly. Had that snub been deliberate on his part, or was it just that he was so self-absorbed that it would never have occurred to him to bring her along to the jagul’s table? She felt conflicted, at once wanting to go with them as much as she loathed the very idea of it.

She sat there for a long time, eyes unfocused, seeing but not seeing. The glass made a popping sound and a fracture grew beneath her palm.

“Shall I remove that for you?” An attendant had moved silently to her side, and he spoke in a placid, unhurried manner.

He was nearest to her at that moment, and so she glared at him. “Take it.”

The attendant did so, allowing a small
tsk
to escape his lips as he saw the crack, and placed it on the tray he held high atop one hand. He had an open, angular face and eyes that seemed kind, in this light. “Another, Dalin Kein?”

“No.” She turned her back on him and he took a step away before she realized something. “Wait.”

He rocked on one foot, almost in a comical pretense of pause. “Change of mind?”

“How do you know my name?” she demanded.

The attendant inclined his head. “I’m here to wait tables,” he noted, as if that would explain everything. “To do that well, it’s important to know your clients.”

Kein looked around. “That’s a job for a menial. Shouldn’t a Kelrabian be doing it?”

He gave her a conspiratorial look. “The locals are not terribly bright, Dalin. They mix up orders all the time, and you know officers. They do like precision.”

From nowhere, an abrupt suspicion unwound in her chest. “Who are you?”

“Just a plain and simple server.”

“What do you want?”

He held up a finger. “Ah, no. That’s for
me
to ask
you.
But of course, because I’m very good at my job, I already know what you want.”

Kein frowned. “Another glass of—”

He reached up and recovered a full tumbler of the amber juice, ready and waiting for her request. “Rokassa juice?”

The thing was, she
did
want another glass. Rokassa juice reminded her of home, and home made her feel more centered, more controlled. She took a sip, savored it.

When the next question came, it sounded as if it came from a different person entirely. “Is there anything else you would like, Dalin Kein?” It had a cool, insidious weight to it, a slow knife slipping in. It almost took her off guard. She almost answered honestly.

“What I want is beyond your remit,” she said, more to herself than in answer.

“I suppose so,” he noted. “As a mere server, the most important thing I have to concern myself with is the correct stockage of
kanar
or the freshness of the
yamok
sauce. But you, an officer of the Fleet … I would imagine that the lives of many turn on every decision you make. Or do not make.” The server gave a little sigh. “Have I confessed to you my great admiration for the military? It’s little reward, I know, but heartfelt.”

Kein bristled. The man’s attitude was chafing on her, his insouciant manner wearing down her already thinned patience. “For a mere server, you are quite familiar with officers you have just met. You should know your place!”

He nodded. “Quite so, quite so. Forgive me, Dalin, but it is an occupational hazard. My talkative nature, I mean.” He chuckled. “I hope it won’t prevent you from returning here. This table is well-suited for quiet introspection, and I don’t doubt hard-working command officers can benefit from that.”

He was speaking much but saying little, and Kein felt slow alarm moving through her; but in the next second her wrist communicator was vibrating and she held the comcuff to her mouth. “Report?”

Glinn Lleye,
Lakar
’s officer of the watch, responded.
“Dalin, an alert from the perimeter buoys. A Federation vessel has been detected at the sector edge. Tantok control is passing word to all Fleet officers.”

Kein was on her feet in an instant. “Lock on. Transport me directly to the bridge.”

“Confirmed.”

“Duty calls?” noted the server.

She downed the Rokassa juice in one gulp and tossed the glass at him. The orange haze of the transporter effect enveloped her, and the last she saw of the man’s irritating blandness was a thin, plastic smile that did not reach his eyes.

By an accident of deployment, only three ships in Hanno’s flotilla were not moored at any of Tantok Nor’s pylons or its docking ring: the
Fell,
the
Karsu
—this one the jagul’s flagship—and the
Lakar.

Kein had snatched a data tablet from Lleye’s hand and raced through the information presented there. The human ship had made some error of tactics and strayed too close to a Cardassian sensor line, triggering the alert. The ship was retreating, attempting to move with stealth back toward Federation space, and there was a window of opportunity for the jagul to sprint out to the contested zone and challenge the craft head-on. Of course, he would take it; the chance to pick off a lone Starfleet vessel was too enticing to pass up.

She had the
Lakar
at ready status, all her crew recalled, and her systems battle-primed, as Enkoa stalked onto the bridge. The dal
seemed vexed, no doubt irritated that his evening of drinking and dining with the other commanders had been interrupted by something as paltry as an alien invader.

“Orders?” she asked.

He gestured at the main screen, where the two
Galor
-class cruisers were already moving to high impulse. “Dagger formation, Dalin. Tuck us in abeam of the
Karsu
and match her speed.”

Kein relayed the commands, and Glinn Lleye brought the escort into the shadow of the other ships. As one, the vessels leapt to warp speed, the starlight distending into glowing streaks of color about them.

She leaned closer to the command throne. “Did the jagul give any directives as to how we are to proceed once we intercept the Federation intruder?”

Enkoa shifted slightly. “He will present us with a tactical tasking when we enter contact range,” came the reply. “We will … act as support for the
Fell
and the
Karsu.
”

Someone who did not know Laen Enkoa as well as Sanir Kein did would never have noticed it, but she instantly detected a frustration in his tone. At once she was imagining the moment when Hanno received the alert communication, and Enkoa there at his side, opportunistic, eager to follow his new patron into battle—only to be told that his little ship was surplus to requirements. Two
Galor
s, after all, were more than a match for any single ship in the Federation’s arsenal. Had Enkoa cajoled his way into having
Lakar
join the interceptors? If the docking order had been different, she doubted that they would be here now, speeding toward a confrontation.

She nodded. “We will be ready.”

The Starfleet ship saw them coming and gave up on its stealthy course, moving to a higher warp velocity.

Hanno had opened a general channel from the
Karsu
to the other ships, and on the tertiary viewscreen Kein could see the jagul on his command throne, with once again the warrior aspect that she remembered from that day on Cardassia Prime at the fore.
“No iron to begin
a fight, these Starfleeters,
” he rumbled.
“They’ll come in hard well enough if they have their nose bloodied, but it’s a rare day that they’ll stand and wait to take a punch.”

The glinn at sensors glanced up at Kein. “Scan relay from the
Fell,
sir. Data on the target.”

“Show me,” ordered Enkoa.

Kein read the information from a console. The Federation ship was a light cruiser, like something carved out of bleached bone, with a saucer-shaped primary hull, twin warp pontoons high behind it, and a curved secondary fuselage. Partly blanked lines of information from Obsidian Order intelligence reports gave this particular craft an identity.

“Rutledge.”
She said the alien name aloud, rolling the odd consonants over her tongue, pondering for a moment what meaning the appellation might have to the humans who crewed it. “What are they doing here?”

“Spying. Trying to read our strength and numbers.” Enkoa’s smile, lost since they had left Tantok Nor, was returning by degrees. “This ship is no match for the three of us.”

“Gul Matrik?”
Hanno was speaking to the commander of the
Fell.
“The aliens are hailing us, questioning our aggressive posture.”