Antimatter (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine Book 8) by John Vornholt

Author:John Vornholt [Vornholt, John]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Science Fiction
Publisher: Pocket Books/Star Trek
Published: 2000-09-21T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

THE MIDDLE-AGED CARDASSIAN was short but wiry, like a coiled eelbird. His splotchy gray complexion and the bony protuberances around his eyes and forehead gave him the appearance of a rotting corpse. The moment Major Kira saw him on the Promenade, she felt the bile rise up her throat like a volcanic eruption. A rush of adrenaline made her want to charge after him, but she reminded herself that the Cardassian hadn't broken any laws. He was alone, walking briskly, but he waited patiently when a group of Bajoran schoolchildren crossed in front of him. Not shoving them out of the way made him exceptionally well mannered for a Cardassian.

As part of the treaty that had seen their withdrawal from Bajor, Cardassians had demanded access to Deep Space Nine. They came to the station in such small numbers that no one seemed to mind. Well, no one but Kira and every Bajoran she knew. Every time she saw a Cardassian, she wanted to squash it like a bug. Their civilized veneer hid a culture steeped in the pleasures of torture and warfare. Their disastrous handling of the Bajoran economy made it clear, at least to Kira, that Cardassians conquered mostly for fun.

The old hatreds bubbled and boiled inside her until she felt queasy. Kira forced herself to slow down and follow the Cardassian from a discreet distance. After all, he was headed the same way she was—to Quark's.

The major wasn't surprised to find two more Cardassians waiting in Quark's casino, nor was she surprised to find them chatting with the jovial proprietor. She knew she shouldn't blame the Ferengi—customers were customers—but she hated Quark for his collusion with them. He had functioned as well under the Cardassian reign of terror as he had under the Federation's benign but bumbling rule. Of course, his sleazy mixture of gambling, libations, and holosuite fantasies would always be a draw, and it did bring needed hard currency into the station. But it also brought the wrong kind of customers, like these arrogant, stiff-necked Cardassians. They were hoisting glasses of ale like the victors in an escaped refugee hunt.

Kira knew she couldn't be circumspect, like Odo, or diplomatic, like Sisko—she could only be direct. She recollected hearing about the arrival of a Cardassian trade delegation, and she assumed this must be them. No matter what they called themselves, all they ever wanted to trade was their horrific brand of oppression for your sorrow and blood.

"Welcome to Deep Space Nine," she said curtly as she strode into their midst.

Her arrival was so sudden that the Cardassians jumped, and one of them spilled his ale down his gray tailored suit. The other two glared at her, as one might look at a person who had just relieved herself in public. Her very existence was an affront to them.

Quark didn't look too happy to see her either. "Major Kira," he hissed, "what a pleasure it would be to serve you at some other time."

"I don't need service," she said bluntly.

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