Antimatter by John Vornholt

Author:John Vornholt [Vornholt, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Star Trek
Published: 2012-07-13T17:38:29+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 brisk-

ly, 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 wasinto 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 propri-

etor. She knew she shouldn't blame the Ferengim

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 holo-

suite 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. "I need

information. And I would prefer to talk to you,

privately." She glanced at the Cardassians and swal-

lowed the bad taste from her mouth. "You can tell

your customers that you'll only be a moment."

The older Cardassian raised his hand. "Don't dis-

obey your keeper," he smiled. "The Bajorans always

insisted to us how peaceful and pleasant they were,

but we always found them simply rude.

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