House of Cards

Free Web Hosting Provider - Web Hosting - E-commerce - High Speed Internet - Free Web Page

"In a society in which it is a mortal offense to be different from your neighbors your only escape is never to let them find out."
-Robert A. Heinlein

Tora sat in her new quarters. They still didn't feel right. She'd adjusted the temperature down to that just-barely-comfortable minimum that an Athmari ship would maintain, then appropriated several large tomato plants and placed them in various corners and alcoves, but it wasn't enough.

The humans and their allies lived absolutely wasteful lives, even when in the confined environment of Starfleet. They didn't use plants to replenish oxygen and supply food, or recycle their dead, or even distribute food properly. Any member of the crew could eat as much as she wanted, just by asking the replicator. The troll crewmembers were particularly disgusting to Tora, with their bloated bodies and love of excess. She'd come close to blowing her cover the first time she saw one.

Tora wasn't as agoraphobic as many Athmari were, due to the near-overcrowding on most of their ships, but the room was still far too big. It was only her "study," but it was as large as her entire quarters on INV Farreach had been.

She could only imagine what would happen the first time she was required to beam down to an actual planet. Of course, there were also the holodecks - another scandalous waste of resources - to train her for that. Meanwhile, she had to stop thinking about all this. There could be an elf spying on her thoughts at any moment.

Time to go hunt down the collaborator. Unfortunately, she had no leads and the best place to begin, therefore, was to talk to her new crewmates, as repellent as they may be. Tora stifled a shudder and set out for Ten-Forward.

Moonstone lay on a biobed, panting for breath. Windweaver and Varien had erased all outward signs of the interrogation, but she still couldn't get her muscles to relax. The funny thing was, her bond with Drilaris seemed stronger than ever. The sensations it carried to her were the only things that seemed sharp and clear; everything else was hazy.

***She has never been in contact with an Athmari other than the half-breed. I must conclude that the DNA was taken from her while she was in a crowd, by some simple means such as brushing against her or shaking her hand.***

No, no, no... Moonstone thought, but she did not know how she came to have that answer. It felt like there was a part of her locked off from everything else, and that was where all the answers lay. She did know a full-blooded Athmari, and--

Suddenly, everything came flooding back. The Borg cube. The regeneration chamber. Dria. Shanin had given her some sort of memory implant, one that could be turned off at will...or when her mind was being attacked. It was so good that it held during the second interrogation, when she was subjected to physical pain in order to further verify the results that her interrogators had gotten.

The hyperintensity of the link with her bond-spirit was fading away. She heard a murmur about some other elf working with the Athmari, but it was too faint to be understood.

Tora edged into Ten-Forward warily. She'd passed that way earlier, and it didn't seem to have improved - or worsened - since then. It was just more crowded. Feeling reasonably more at-home, she slid past several humans, a Vulcan, and a Bolian, then sqeezed past several elves to find a seat at the bar.

Fortunately, Gritspittle's shift had ended and a new bartender, an elf, was behind the counter. His eyes looked almost bloodshot - no, that was purple. They were exactly the color of dreamberries! Tora wondered whether the effect was due to tissues saturated with the substance, whether it was a simple genetic rarity, or whether he'd dyed his irises in honor of what appeared to be his favorite pastime. She'd probably never know; her mission demanded that she remain inconspicuous and ask only the questions that would help her catch her prey.

She almost made the hand-gesture for a vial of talicha, then stopped herself. Keeping her eyes respectfully lowered, she asked for beer instead.

Tora searched her memory, then remembered that her false history included a trip to Canada. "D'you have anything Canadian?"

The result was somewhat less than thrilling to her palate. She set the glass down, resolving to finish as much of it as she could...later. She scanned the crowd again, looking for someone drunk enough to talk freely.

The evening was just beginning; everyone looked fresh and alert. Except for the man next to her.

Tora's heart leapt. His ears were pointed like an elf's, but more concave on the top edge. He looked like a mix between Betandi and Vi. An expatriate, perhaps? Then she saw his hands and quickly hid her reaction by taking a large gulp of the odd-tasting Canadian brew. They had four fingers, like an elf's. It was the abomination that Shanin made.

Fighting back nausea, she forced her mind to reach out to him. He'd had enough dreamberry wine to kill an elf, and his bond with his joiner spirit didn't seem complete. Tora couldn't tell whether it was because of the drunkenness or the tainted blood. Deciding that she'd had enough excitement and enough puzzles for an evening, she hastily returned to her quarters after 'accidentally' bumping into the half-breed, tearing a little of his skin with her sharp nails and leaving a few specially-crafted nanites in his bloodstream.

She would have to avoid the elf-kin, at least until she could crack into the ship's medical database and find out whatever the elves knew about him.

"Some of us get what we deserve. Others of us get luckier than that."
-Lois McMaster Bujold

Returning to his palatial quarters within the Romulan capitol, Senator Vredak found a pleasant surprise waiting for him.

"Shanin! It has been far too long." Indeed, the last time they'd met face-to-face like this was when the Senator had been a young man, newly appointed. Now he was an experienced veteran.

Shanin smiled, and was reminded of Moonstone. The two were rather alike: short, strong, and far too curious about cybernetics. She'd given the Senator a few baubles to keep him occupied during her absence, and clearly he was grateful.

They exchanged pleasantries and sat down in Vredak's office. The word 'office,' however, was hopelessly insufficient. It was a one-room palace, complete with every kind of sweet known to the world of Romulus and a wide selection of the Star Empire's finer forms of alcohol. Settling into the soft cushions of Vredak's couch, Shanin explained why she was there.

Shanin mentally cursed herself for an idiot. "You mean you're allied with them, too?"

"You should have come to me sooner. I wanted to send a message to you, but all of your communications channels had gone dead."

"I know," she replied sorrowfully. "I had to pull out of all of my Romulan trade; I was too close to getting caught. I didn't even think about asking you earlier; the last time I saw you, you were--" An inept youngling? Way to flatter him, girl.

Vredak nodded. "You must have thought I was dead, after I stopped looking for you. I admit I gave up too easily, but I was afraid that I would come under suspicion." He paused. "But all of that is done. I will give you all of the information I have on the alliance. I can only hope it's enough."

"Vredak, what I really need is information about how the alliance is communicating. If I can tap into their comm system, maybe the High Council will agree to set up a listening post. That could save countless lives by allowing us to be where you and your allies aren't. We'll also have a better idea of the balance of power in the area, so we can step in to readjust it if it seems to be tipping too far in someone else's direction."

"I can't do that. What you're talking about is past even my level! You'd have to break the military's highest encryption standard."

"Like this?" Shanin darted forward and placed her palm on his desk. The computer interface lit up and began to display information transfers from the planet's core military database. Vredak grew pale. Seconds later, the whirl of decrypted bits, bytes, and nibbles was replaced by a simple Romulan insignia. "Don't worry; I cleaned up after myself. Just needed an actual Romulan computer as a springboard, and yours was fast enough that I didn't get caught."

Vredak's eyes widened. He remained speechless as she thanked him, and immobile as she took one last look out of the tinted glass of his window, savoring the view of an actual planet, by the gods!, and beamed out.

Liet was waiting for Shanin when she returned. "Kymil's escaped," he said grimly.

"I can't be everywhere at once, Lady. He found some way to deactivate the forcefields and anti-beaming devices in the brig. I still don't know what he did!"

Shanin glared at him. "It's your job to be everywhere at once and you are damned well capable of it. Any idea of where he went?"

"The escape pod seemed to be headed out towards human territory, but I have no doubt that he is headed elsewhere."

Meanwhile, the cramped escape pod puttered along at sublight, still aimed toward the borders of the Empire. Kymil was no longer aboard.

Alinn had provided for him well, even if she was threatening to have him killed if he did not finally prove to be of some use. A tiny shuttle, programmed to seek out and follow Diamond Shard, had picked him up shortly after his unceremonious exit. Shanin would now be aware of the fact that the n'Sira were hiding new tech from the rest of the Clan, but so long as he was in political exile it didn't matter. When he returned, he would have enough influence to avoid any serious punishment.

Kymil set the shuttle on autopilot and resolved to get in a few hours of sleep before he arrived at Deep Space Nine.

Having had no luck with talking to the rest of the crew, Tora decided to use the crew roster and eliminate the most likely candidates first. Those without magic, or with weaker magical abilities, went to the bottom of her list. Metalshapers, flesh-shapers, and gliders went to the top. Any of those abilities would have been useful in rescuing the trapped joiner spirit, and Shanin had reported that the spirit bonded to its rescuer. Therefore, the collaborator had to have a greater affinity for the spirit than the entire population of a Borg cube did. Because such bonds were so rare among non-Athmari, they had never been studied to any great extent, making Tora's job much harder.

She assumed that it had something to do with strong magic, as Seleyn's mate Iria, the last outlander to have attracted such a companion, had been a metalshaper of unsurpassed ability. Most of the crew's metalshapers worked either in engineering on in one of the research labs, so they were highly concentrated.

That meant that the next hurdle to overcome was getting an assignment near each of those areas, and hoping that she would pass near the right metalshaper at the right time.

That day, Tora happened to be lucky enough to be assigned to a random patrol that included engineering. Chief Engineer Bergmann seemed less than thrilled to have her there, but resigned to the fact that she wasn't leaving.

Her Betazoid identity included some engineering training, which she had thought would be useful, so she could pretend to somewhat understand what was going on. This clearly won Bergmann's gratitude. It seemed that most of the other security personnel who came through were technical illiterates and Bergmann spent more time explaining his crew's duties to them than the crew spent performing their duties. Tora listened to Bergmann's swan song most attentively, grateful for the opportunity to stand right in the middle of the room without attracting suspicion.

A feather-light presence brushed against her bond-spirit. "Excuse me, sir...is there a ladies' room nearby?" She faked a suitably embarrased look.

"Thank you." It was coming from that direction...what luck! Tora ducked down the left intersection as she had been instructed, then set Melain free to search for the other spirit. It was called Drilaris, if she remembered correctly... She didn't dare call to it herself - its bond, or that abomination, might be listening.

Melain reported to her, with great joy, that it had closed with the prey. She felt it attack, ripping at the other spirit.

Tora stared at the wound in disbelief. The other spirit had to have done incredible damage to Melain...

Another burning brand found its way to her left hip. /Melain!/ She didn't care who heard now. She could feel herself slipping toward the floor as her bond weakened...her bond was dying...

Suddenly, the pain lessened. Drilaris had been called off by its bond. She heard Bergmann calling to her, calling Sickbay for help. Tora could almost bring herself to laugh in triumph, despite the pain. Drilaris had left its marks upon Melain, and therefore upon her. The elves would undoubtedly find some trace of it, leaving her some small trace of knowledge to be used against Dria's bond...

Arcing her ship's prow down toward Scylla, Shanin transmitted the recognition code that she would need to dock at the asteroid. It felt good to be back; living inside an asteroid was almost like living beneath the sands of Sifenna, in the air-conditioned passageways of the harsh world which almost seemed an improvement upon the planet's mirrored, hopelessly bright, aboveground spires.

She had to admit that Scylla's passageways had a strange sort of beauty. But, she reminded herself, that feeling was probably due to homesickness. Those who visited the Rock more often, or actually lived there, would probably disagree.

Giving Liet command of the ship, she released the rest of the crew on 'shore' leave - including herself. It would be good to see Seleyn again; she had to ask him about the transition back to his normal business after they'd delivered Cast-No-Shadow to Julani and gone back to their lives. Probably he was crabby as ever toward his customers, if not worse, and miserably well-indulged by Athmari standards.

Passing the security checkpoints, Shanin began to walk past an open door. Hands reached out from within, just as she thought, Be careful of open doors, that's the first thing Seleyn taught you...why did you let yourself feel safe in this place! She brought up one foot and slammed it into an attacker's knee, only to be faced by two more who had just finished locking the hatch. They'd shoved something in her mouth to keep her from talking. Huge, brown-skinned...they had to be Kessels. Betandis bred for height; Kessels bred for bulk. Either gave a decided advantage in an uneven fight; Shanin found herself wishing for a little more muscle even though it couldn't save her.

Tied up like a schizophrenic in a straightjacket and tossed to the ground like a flopping fish, Shanin stared up at the slimmest member of the group. She had rich, red hair like Julani's, dark eyes like Shanin's own...but there was something odd about her. She couldn't be a full-blooded n'S'aryn. Her face was pinched, unhealthily narrow, giving her a foxlike look.

Kyria stared at Shanin intently. Her captive glared at her while trying to chew through the gag. Shanin's elbows and knees wobbled furiously as she pulled at her restraints.

"Take her back to my quarters," she said to Benaria Kessel. Benaria, whose usual business was assassination, would probably not be gentle. Unfortunate, but Kyria's entire point in hiring her had been to get someone who would know exactly how much it took to kill - or not kill - an Athmari.

On second thought, Beni was known for leaving no traces. Perhaps she would be gentle after all. Kyria did not have the same prejudices against Kessels as other Betandis did; she'd been raised apart from all of that. She turned her thoughts to more important matters. She would do the same amount of apologizing no matter what condition Shanin was in when the time came, and it looked as if the bound woman was inflicting a good deal of discomfort upon herself simply by trying to escape.

The bound woman. Sounded like one of Katya's less prosperous competitors. Kyria was briefly amused.

Kyria gave Shanin some time to exhaust herself before she carried out the introductions, time in which Shanin was able to spit the last tattered bits of the gag out. She felt as if it was some sort of test. "Whuddinh'll d'you think you're doin'?" she demanded, her mouth still feeling fuzzy.

"Look at me carefully, little sister." The title was occasionally used among Athmari, but it was condescending and Shanin felt uneasy about it anyway. "What do you see?"

"No," Kyria looked slightly puzzled. "I expect you to believe that I'm your sister."

Shanin found one last piece of cloth in her mouth and aimed for Kyria's face. Exhausted by her own efforts, she missed by a wide margin.

"Seleyn's first mate was n'Sira. She was Alinn's older sister, in fact, and was killed by Alinn so that the House would not be reunited. Seleyn could have claimed sufficient bloodright to support such an action, being an eldest child himself. Our father lost two mates. That's why he wasn't willing to try again when Iria died."

Kyria blinked. "Several Clans keep some of their births off the record for cases other than disgraceful lineage." Was that a not-so-subtle condemnation of Cast-No-Shadow? "We are held in reserve for matters in which plausible deniability is considered important."

Shanin was beginning to believe the other woman. "So link minds with me and prove it."

Her sister did so without hesitation. /There is so much more to this than you could have imagined.../

The elvan healers had claimed to have erased the last traces of Drilaris's attack, but the wounds in Tora's mind were still fresh and aching. And the only way she knew of to get rid of those without spending too much time or effort were a simple form of therapy that her mother, Alinn, had taught her: Use. Abuse. Seduce. Manipulate. She'd chosen the fourth method as a way to keep the half-breed busy.

First, though, she had to do some research. Her lies would do no good unless they were consistent with what the humans and the elves already knew. The ship's medical databases were relatively easy to break into; from there she opened his history file.

Windweaver and her subordinates had performed every available test upon him. They'd poked, prodded, biopsied, scanned...and found nothing. Tora frowned. She was going to have to examine him herself, once she and her bond got their strength up.

She scanned the computer for signs of related files. Part of his personnel record was sealed. Tora edged around the document, searching for a way to open it without leaving any trace of her search, but it was locked down tighter than Cereda's last bottle of Ikari wine. And, even worse, the Athmari had never been able to infiltrate Starfleet Intelligence. The officers selected for such positions were studied damn near down to the atomic level. Even the most carefully constructed identity couldn't pass their background checks, which meant that Tora had no one to call upon for help in cracking the file.

She had other cards to play, but it was far better to wait until she truly needed them.

Shanin felt oddly...alive. Her newfound sister had to have some sort of healing gift. Or was it simply the good news?

Kyria smiled shyly. "Without you and Juli, we would not have been able to avoid leaving this place. It can't be long before the humans figure out how to detect our ships."

"Maybe we should leave. We have no hope of colonizing any worlds in this neighborhood."

"Perhaps not in the near future..." Kyria cut herself off. "Do you know of a planet called Omicron Persei IV?"

"Heard of it, I think. It's in the Neutral Zone. Near where I pinpointed the relay stations the new alliance is using."

"Right. OP4 has no natural resources, no scenic views, no large wildlife to speak of...in short, nothing to make it of any interest to anyone else. The cost of improving the soil would take decades to reclaim. That makes it perfect for a listening post."

Shanin lifted an eyebrow. "Are you telling me that after all these centuries..."

Shanin stared out the viewport at the dull little planet. So this was her race's new outpost. Opening the airlock, she stepped outside.

Opie-4 was barren enough, by human standards. The vegetation was brownish, looked stunted. The Athmari could turn it into a paradise world if they wanted, but that would be a bit too noticeable. Difficult enough to conceal a small, underground monitoring station from their new neighbors.

Shanin walked across the plain of stubbly grass, remembering the last time she'd been on an Athmari-held world. It was Sifenna, a harsh desert world that made this place look like Eden in comparison. Far better to remember the homeworld, in all its lost beauty. On Padiia there had been a flower called the Ikari, which to her race had been like roses. It had also been edible; the Athmari didn't waste anything even back then. But they had known the value of beauty and rest.

Shanin remembered meeting Lukaya there. He was visiting the Imperial Palace for the first time, and had dialed the wrong comm code. He got the Imperial Guard instead of the caterers, and she'd been sent out to assist him. Apparently he'd been stricken despite her intimidating height and terse lecture on the fact that he was no longer in the hinterlands, because he'd sent her Ikari the next day. Their petals had been black on the undersides, with grey-streaked green on the top. They'd tasted like spun sugar.

Shanin went back through the airlock and into her quarters. She took out a small box, another present from 'Kaya, its surface inlaid with malachite and marcasite. Inside was a tiny packet of seeds. She turned it over, held it in her hand, examined it.