Vectors (9 page)

Kira took a sip, and relished the bittersweet coldness. Corda handed Javi his mug, and he sat forward, taking it in both hands as if it weighed too much for him. Kira wondered if his prediction was wrong, if he wasn't getting better at all.

"He's been yelling at me to listen to you," Kira said. "He says you've changed."

Corda glanced at Javi as if he had betrayed a confidence. He was looking at the mug he was drinking from and didn't seem to notice.

"Whether I've changed or not shouldn't matter," Corda said. "What does matter is what's happening. You don't believe the Cardassians can commit genocide. I do."

"I didn't say that," Kira said. "I said it's not in their best interest to kill us all."

Corda sat down, cradling her own mug in one hand. "But what if it is now? What if they no longer need us for all those jobs Cardassians refuse to do? What if they've finally found a way to automate the most dangerous tasks?"

Kira stared at her. It was possible. It was even probable.

"Now tell her the rest," Javi said.

Corda set her mug down. "We don't know for certain."

"Tell her," Javi said. "If you're going to do this right, tell her all you know. In every case."

Maybe Corda hadn't changed after all. Maybe Javi only believed she had. Maybe he had no other choice. Kira waited for whatever "the rest" was.

"We've heard," Corda said, "through less reputable sources, that Cardassians are dying of this also."

"That's not possible," Kira said. "They've always 1orded their superior physiology over us, saying they're not vulnerable to Bajoran diseases. How could that change?" "Do you believe all Cardassian lies?" Corda asked. "That one I do," Kira said. "I've seen Bajorans die of horrible diseases, and never once have I seen a Cardassian get sick like that." "Maybe they don't allow their people to get sick." "And maybe it's the truth," Kira said. "If they got sick, we would have seen it. I've been in places where I know I would have seen it." She set her mug down as well, although she was reluctant to give up the last of the juice. "Maybe you're the one who is believing the lie. Maybe the Cardassians are the ones spreading the rumors that Cardassians are getting sick. That would make this illness look like an innocent virus instead of something the Obsidian Order dreamed up."

Javi smiled slightly. He was still the only one drinking. "See why we needed to hear from Kira?" he asked Corda. "Neither of us thought of that."

Corda's lips thinned. "We can't operate on supposition." "I agree," Kira said.

"What we have heard is that a few Cardassians here have gotten ill, but they've been spirited away so fast that no one can confirm that it's the same disease. A few of the rumors say it's not. The Cardassians turn green and their scales flake off-or so they say. And Bajoran victims look even healthier than they did before they got sick, so maybe it's not related at all." "But we don't know," Kira said.

"That's right," Corda said. "We don't know. And I have no idea how we could find out."

"Where were the Cardassians taken ill?" Kira asked.

"In the same regions where the Bajorans were sick," Corda said. "And a Ferengi said that he saw some green Cardassians on Terok Nor."

"Ferengi can't be trusted," Kira said. "They can be paid to give false information."

Corda nodded. "The problem is that, if my sources on Bajor are right, the sick Cardassians here have already been sent away."

"To Cardassia Prime?"

"I don't think so. But it doesn't matter. We have no idea where they've gone."

Kira frowned. "Just before I came here, I'd heard that Gul Dukat just gave an order that no outside ships were to arrive on or leave Terok Nor."

Corda's gaze met hers. Javi set down his mug. "Now we're getting somewhere."

"I didn't think much of it, until you mentioned the station."

"Dukat wouldn't care about his Bajoran prisoners," Corda said. "But he would care if Cardassians were getting ill."

"And even if he didn't, Central Command would order him to shut down operations if the Cardassians had a disease that spreads the way you described."

They stared at each other.

"What if it's a different disease?" Corda asked.

"What if it's not?" Javi asked.

"It doesn't matter," Kira said. "I'd been thinking of going to Terok Nor anyway."

"What? Nerys, what are you talking about?"

She turned to him and took his hand. It was cold from the mug, but the skin was dry and his bones felt thin beneath her fingers. He had lied to her. She had seen starvation victims before-the ones who survived but were never really healthy again. He wouldn't live long, and it wouldn't take a designer virus to kill him. A simple cold would do it.

"I've been to Terok Nor before, Javi," she said. "Just last year, I was there getting information for the resistance. It's dangerous, but it's possible to get around."

"Why would you go?"

"I was planning to go for a completely different reason," she said. "If the rumors of the disease among the Bajorans proved to be true, and now after talking with you I believe they are, I was going to Terok Nor to bring Dr. Kellec Ton home."

"What's Ton doing there?" Corda asked.

Kira glanced at her. She hadn't expected Corda to be familiar with Kellec Ton.

"Apparently, Gul Dukat sent for him a month ago. Dukat claimed his precious workers needed better health care, which I think is unlikely. Dukat has never cared for anyone. His production must have been down or something."

"Or perhaps this disease started on Terok Nor," Javi said, "and that's why he sent for Kellec."

"Maybe," Kira said. "But it didn't sound like that. I talked to Kellec before he went. He was going to see what he could do to further the resistance on Terok Nor. He was also going to use his free time to find weaknesses in the station, maybe a way for the resistance to get the Bajoran workers out of there." "We don't have the ships for that," Corda said.

Kira shook her head. "You need to choose someone else to lead this cell after you, Javi."

"I don't appreciate all your insults, Kira," Corda said.

"I shouldn't have to tell you about the benefits of a quick and dirty surprise operation. We may not have big, powerful ships like the Cardassians, but we can slip in and out of any place, and with the right plan, we could get workers off Terok Nor."

Corda's smile was cruel. "Just don't pick Kira to relieve me, Javi," she said. "Kira has no idea about the realities of war." "You don't know-"

"Ladies!" Javi said tiredly. "We fight Cardassians, not each other." He ran that thin hand along the side of his face, tugging at his earring. "Maybe that wouldn't be a bad mission, Nerys. Going to Terok Nor. You could find out if the Cardassians were ill, and if they were you could report back. But bring Kellec home." "If he wants to come."

Javi nodded. "One more thing. I've been studying the information we've received. It's only a matter of time before everyone on Bajor gets ill if this is as bad as it seems. And so far, whoever has gotten ill has died."

Even in the heat, Kira couldn't suppress a shiver.

Chapter Ten NOG WAS SITTING on the bar, his feet dangling over the edge. He was kicking the front with one heel, then the other, with no apparent rhythm at all. Quark didn't know what was worse, the boy's idleness, his disregard for the bar's rules, or the constant bang, bang, bang echoing in his ears.

"Do something useful," Quark said, shoving Nog as he passed. "And get off my bar." "There's nothing useful to do, uncle," Nog said. "There's always something useful." Quark picked up a dirty glass off one of the empty tables. Three groups of Cardassians sat at various tables, but they certainly didn't look as if they were celebrating. They were at least drinking-to excess, always a problem with Cardassians. Not that Quark could blame them. If there was really a disease going around that was going to make him turn green (which was only one step down from that hideous Cardassian gray), he'd probably start drinking too.

Or leave. Sneak off. Find somewhere else where the threat of death wasn't hanging over everything. He might do that anyway. He'd hardly had any customers in the last few days. "But what, uncle?" Nog asked, still on the bar. "For one thing," Quark said, "you can get off my bar. Then you can polish it from top to bottom with an ear brush."

"You're not serious."

"I've never been more serious," Quark said. "And remember, you'll do that every time you sit on my bar."

"You could have told him that sitting on the bar wasn't allowed, brother." Rom had apparently come out of their quarters. He wore a hat the Volian dressmaker had made him. It was made of some stretchy black material and molded itself to Rom's skull. It made his head look smaller, but at least it hid his ears.

"I would have thought sitting on the bar would be an obvious mistake, wouldn't you?" Quark asked.

"Actually, no," Rom said. "Rules are easier to follow if they're clear." "Like not spilling things on the customers?" "Are you ever going to forget that?" Rom asked. "Not as long as you wear that silly hat." Quark brought the glass around back and set it beside Nog. "And wash this too, while you're at it."

Nog jumped off the bar, picked up the glass and started for their quarters.

"I want that bar shiny within the hour!" Quark called after him.

Nog didn't respond. He disappeared into the darkness as if he hadn't heard.

"I mean it, Rom," Quark said. "I want that bar cleaned in the next hour-" "I'll do it," Rom said.

"-by Nog. He has to learn too." Quark sighed and surveyed the bar. He hated this quiet. The Cardassians were panicked and Gul Dukat had ordered that no more ships of any type could dock on Terok Nor. So not only were the Cardassians dwindling, thanks to disease and general fear, but the others who came through here, the suppliers, traders, and shadier types weren't appearing either. Quark's supply of Saurian brandy was getting low, and so were some of his more popular but hard-to-find items.

Rom scratched the top of his head. "Brother, do I have to wear this hat? It itches."

"Yes, you have to wear the hat," Quark snapped. Then he lowered his voice. "I can't have you serving customers with that blister on your ear."

Rom's hand went involuntarily to his right ear and Quark turned away in disgust. Nothing, ever, would get the memory of that out of his brain. Rom said it didn't hurt, but it was the ugliest thing Quark had ever seen. It served Rom right for the mistakes he had made earlier-and for not telling Quark that he was allergic to Jibetian beer.

Who knew what that horrible mixture of fluids had done to Rom's ears, anyway? The ears of Ferengi were their most sensitive spot. If an allergic reaction was going to start, it would start there. And Rom's allergy to Jibetian beer was bad enough, apparently, to have put him in sickbay on a freighter when he was a young man. Of course, Quark had been long gone by then and hadn't known about it. And Rom, typically, hadn't bothered to tell him, even when he knew he'd be working around the stuff.

"There aren't that many customers, brother," Rom said. "Perhaps it would be better if you waited on them yourself."

"You're right," Quark said. "Perhaps it would be better. Then I wouldn't have to pay you." "But brother, how will Nog and I live?"

"Good question," Quark said. "And the answer is not very well if you refuse to do the work you're assigned. Now, go see if those tables need refills."

Rom tugged the hat. Quark could see the blister as an added lump on Rom's ear. Quark grimaced in distaste. How the Volian had managed to make a hat while looking at that ear was beyond Quark. And of course, Quark had had to pay for it. Rom didn't have any latinum yet; Quark was keeping track of all of these expenses in his ledger, but he had no idea how expensive the whole proposition was going to be. Rom had arrived with Nog and then the bar's business had dropped off. Who knew how much an eleven-year-old would eat? And constantly. It was as if he was going to grow as tall as a Cardassian. Or more likely, as if Rom hadn't fed him well before.

Rom reached the first table. Three Cardassians sat there, bent over their glasses as if their posture would protect them from the virus floating around the station. One of the Cardassians shook his head as Rom spoke to him. Rom smiled and bobbed a little, then backed away.

He stopped at the second table. There the Cardassian, one of the pilots who had poured liquor on Rom, said in a loud voice, "If you're trying to protect your skull from getting drenched, you'd better make sure that hat is waterproof."

"No, actually," Rom said. "I'm allergic to Jibetian beer and-" "Rom!" Quark shouted. "-I break out-" "Rom!" "-so I'm wearing this hat-" "Rom!"

Rom looked up. "Brother, I-"

"One more word," Quark said, "and I will fire you."

Rom put a hand to his mouth. The Cardassian laughed. Rom made his way through the tables and leaned across the bar.

"I'm sorry, brother," he whispered. "But if I can't talk, how can I take orders?"

"One more word about the ear," Quark said slowly, as if he were speaking to a child. "Make up a story about the stupid hat. A story that doesn't involve pus." "Sorry, brother," Rom said.

Nog came out of the quarters, clutching an earbrush in his left hand. Quark's earbrush. His best earbrush, the one with the real scagsteeth bristles.

"Nice try," Quark said, "but you use your own brush." "He doesn't have one, brother." "Then he can use yours," Quark said. "He does anyway."

That was it. That was all it took. Quark's stomach actually somersaulted. "Or I did," Nog said, "until Dad got that-" "Enough? Quark shouted. "Enough! No one is ever going to mention that again. Do you hear me? No one!"

All of the Cardassians stared at him as if he had gone crazy. The second group, the one that included the pilot that had been harassing Rom, seemed a bit bleary-eyed, and Quark realized they were drunker than he had initially thought they were. Getting them out of the bar would be difficult. Not that it mattered. He hardly had anyone in the bar as it was. "I heard you, brother," Rom said.

That brought Quark back to himself. He turned toward Nog. "You, young man, you put my earbrush back and never touch it again. I don't share earbrushes with anyone, and I don't let just anyone touch them." Then he glared at Rom. "How could you? Not buying your own son an earbrush."