Pliable Truths, page 10
“Gul,” said Troi, and Picard caught the disdain lacing just that one word. “I can sense your pleasure.”
Rather than being embarrassed at her veiled callout of whatever emotional reaction he might be having, Dukat offered a wide smile. “So I’ve heard.”
Deciding he disliked this particular Cardassian on principle, Picard forced himself to remain composed. “I was not aware you’d be attending these proceedings.”
With a smug smile, Dukat replied, “I must confess I hadn’t anticipated taking part, but we Cardassians are creatures of duty. We follow the orders we’re given.” He held out his hands in a manner Picard decided was as irritating as his smile. “Besides, how often does one get to meet a genuine hero of the Federation?”
Picard acknowledged the disingenuous comment with a polite nod. It was almost certain the withdrawal had cost Dukat standing within the Cardassian Central Command, so for what reason would he be here now? If Heslo’s reaction was any indication, Dukat’s presence here had been unanticipated by the Bajorans. But the confidence—even arrogance—Terok Nor’s former commander exuded only solidified Picard’s hunch that his joining the diplomatic entourage was a calculated decision. Someone had decided his presence might throw a measure of imbalance into the discussions, as Kalem and his delegation were forced to sit across a table from the one individual most responsible for their people’s subjugation.
We’ll just see about that, Picard decided.
Everyone turned at the sound of the doors opening to admit another pair of security crew members entering ahead of an older Bajoran man dressed in elaborate civilian attire consisting of a blue silk shirt under a black jacket with matching trousers. He appeared middle-aged, or at least comparable to that for a human. Thinning gray hair framed an angular face accented with deep lines and piercing blue eyes. He made eye contact with Picard.
“Captain,” he said, entering the room and extending his hands. “I am Kalem Apren, first minister to the people of Bajor.” With both hands he cradled Picard’s own. “It is a genuine pleasure to finally meet you.”
Picard replied, “The pleasure is mine, First Minister.” After pausing long enough to introduce Troi, he continued, “The Federation is grateful you asked for our assistance in this matter, and I’m honored to act as their representative during these proceedings.” Casting a wary eye toward Dukat, he added, “It is my hope we can address each of your concerns in a manner beneficial to all Bajorans.”
Releasing Picard’s hand, Kalem beheld Dukat. “So, you are the face of the Cardassian Guard for these discussions.”
Affecting an air Picard suspected was well practiced, Dukat replied, “Central Command thought it appropriate I attend. They recognize my value to these negotiations.”
“Perhaps they can explain it to us,” said Heslo, making no effort to hide his disdain.
Rather than reply, Dukat smiled before moving away from the group toward the replicator set into a bulkhead at the room’s far end. “Major, I don’t suppose you remembered to stock kanar?”
Before Heslo could reply, Kalem chose that moment to assert his own authority. “Major, you’ve done a remarkable service to me, readying the venue for our discussions. I greatly appreciate your efforts and those of your staff.”
With introductions complete, Picard turned to Winona Bailey, the officer assigned to lead the current security detail. “Thank you, Ensign. Your team may take your posts.” In response to his command, Bailey gestured for her three companions along with the two officers already in the room to take up their assigned equidistant positions around the room’s perimeter. From those points, they would be able watch over the entire room in the event anything untoward occurred. By mutual agreement, it was decided Enterprise security personnel would remain inside the wardroom during the discussions, after Major Heslo expressed concerns about Bajoran Militia members taking matters into their own hands with respect to the Cardassian delegation.
Heslo’s communicator pendant sounded, and he tapped it. “Heslo here.”
“Major,” said a woman’s voice over the open channel. “Enterprise security officers are escorting the rest of the Cardassian delegation to the wardroom.”
“Understood. Thank you.” Severing the connection, Heslo turned to Kalem. “First Minister, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll meet the delegation outside and escort them in.”
Kalem nodded, and the major exited the wardroom. The minister led the Enterprise officers over to a viewport. “I know we’d originally planned for the conference to take place on Bajor, Captain, but I thought it important to set a certain tone for what’s to come. After decades of occupation, my people and I now find ourselves at the beginning of a new era. Before we can move forward, there are a number of issues we must navigate. I suspect the Cardassian delegation will challenge us at every turn, but it is my intention to communicate to them we are no longer their servants.” He indicated the wardroom and—by extension—the rest of the station with a sweeping gesture. “Just as this station is no longer theirs to control, neither are my people or even these negotiations.”
“Of course, First Minister,” replied Picard. “It’s my duty here to ensure both sides are heard in a manner that is constructive while ensuring your very legitimate grievances are addressed.”
While he anticipated at least some parley with the Cardassians to secure any concessions, Picard had no intention of giving them any room to treat the first minister or any other Bajoran as they had during the Occupation. He knew the decision to withdraw from Bajor, coming from the Cardassian civilian leadership, had to have sent shock waves through the Occupation forces as well as their larger military apparatus. This, on top of the shame they had suffered thanks to Captain Jellico’s actions during the Minos Korva incident.
Troi said, “First Minister, based on my past interactions with Cardassian negotiators, we can expect at least one member of the delegation to try demonstrating they still retain a degree of influence over your people.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less, Commander,” replied Kalem. “The history of each of our respective civilizations is replete with examples of former oppressors having to face reprisals from those they had once subjugated. Accountability can feel like tyranny when one has evaded the former for so long a time.”
It was obvious Kalem intended to play on the new dynamic between Bajorans and Cardassians to the maximum, doubtless buoyed by knowing the Federation had a vested interest in seeing Bajor emerge from the shadow of its decades-long persecution. Bajorans waited with anticipation to see just how much the Cardassians would be held to account for their actions. Further, there were as-yet-uncounted Bajorans who had managed to escape the planet over the years, or perhaps were born elsewhere after their parents or grandparents fled to seek refuge wherever they could find it. Those people also longed to return to the world they still considered their true home.
With all of that at the forefront of his mind, Picard knew his duty was to afford Kalem the opportunity to leverage his opportunities while keeping a tight rein on the conference’s direction. He was sympathetic to the first minister’s position, but the captain could not allow the discussions to deteriorate to a point they no longer served a constructive purpose. Although the Cardassians may have been forced to withdraw from the Bajor sector, it would be foolish for Bajorans or the Federation to think the Cardassian Union would not continue to influence interstellar affairs in this region for the foreseeable future.
How far that influence extended might well be decided in this room.
Once more, the wardroom’s doors slid aside, revealing Major Heslo. Behind him was a Cardassian male with deep lines in his face and streaks of gray highlighting his otherwise silken black hair. Unlike the cumbersome armor Picard associated with members of their military, the new arrival instead wore a dark gray suit consisting of trousers and shoes along with a jacket featuring a high collar. Given the flared neck bone structure connecting the typical Cardassian’s head and shoulders, Picard found this tailoring choice unusual. So far as he could tell, the suit possessed no ornamentation or accessories of any kind. Entering behind him was a female Cardassian, dressed in a similar ensemble though her jacket’s collar was low enough to expose her throat. Picard also noted she appeared much younger than her counterpart.
“Gentlemen,” said Heslo. “Allow me to introduce Commissioner Wonar and Arbitrator Ilson of the Cardassian Diplomatic Service.” To the Cardassians, he said, “Delegates, this is First Minister Kalem Apren, leader of the Bajoran Provisional Government, Captain Jean-Luc Picard, commanding officer of the Federation Starship Enterprise, and the ship’s counselor, Commander Deanna Troi.”
Wonar bowed his head. “It is a pleasure to meet with you today. First Minister, I offer greetings from the Detapa Council, and wish to communicate the chairman’s fervent desire that these proceedings prove beneficial to both our peoples.”
“Welcome to Bajor, Commissioner,” said Kalem. “And to Terok Nor. It is my hope that our discussions are as amenable as they are productive.”
Looking to Picard, Ilson said, “Captain, your reputation precedes you. It is an honor to make your acquaintance.”
Not bloody likely. Despite the thought and being on edge thanks to Dukat, Picard forced himself to remain poised as he replied, “Thank you, Arbitrator.” He gestured to Troi. “Commissioner, on behalf of Commander Troi and the United Federation of Planets, thank you for coming. It is my privilege to be present at what promises to be an historic occasion.”
“We are still awaiting the arrival of Kai Opaka and the commander of the Bajoran Militia, Colonel Novari,” said Kalem. “I believe their individual perspectives will be quite valuable during our discussions.” He indicated the wardroom table where Dukat had already claimed the seat at its near end, and an elaborate bottle of dark liquid—presumably kanar, a popular Cardassian liquor—along with a glass. “Before we begin the official proceedings, I thought we might enjoy a first meal together, unless you prefer to dine in your quarters?” Picard was surprised by the proposal, given the first minister’s earlier comments about asserting control. Could this be a ploy to place the Cardassians at ease before lowering the proverbial boom? Or perhaps Kalem was hoping to avoid a confrontation?
This should be rather interesting, he decided.
12
Hands clasped behind his back, Gul Havrel stood before the viewing port separating the laboratory’s control room from the specimen ward. Six examination tables were arranged side by side along the wall to his left, each visible through the transparent material of their respective collapsible cleanroom shelter. Each table faced a counterpart, likewise shrouded, on the room’s opposite side. Inside each shelter, computer and other equipment positioned behind the table monitored the patient lying on it. Five Cardassians, each wearing an environment suit, moved around the room, carrying padds they used to interface with the computer equipment overseeing each specimen.
Every patient was a Bajoran.
Men and women, young and old. Naked and held in place by restraints securing each limb and with another across their forehead. While a few appeared healthy—with the factors of malnutrition, dehydration, and poor hygiene considered—most suffered from a host of maladies. These ailments could be identified by variations in skin coloring or the blood exiting through every orifice. From where he stood, Havrel could see that two of the specimens, both adult males, possessed empty sockets where their eyes had been.
“An infection that feeds on ocular tissue?” asked Glinn Trina from where he stood just behind Havrel, who could hear the apprehension in the younger officer’s voice.
“To begin with,” replied Havrel, recalling the same report his second-in-command had to read prior to their arrival. “Eyes, along with other soft tissue and cartilage. That usually means ears and noses, along with other… external anatomy… before attacking internal organs. The heart and brain seem to be the most resistant, at least in Bajorans. There hasn’t been an opportunity to test the protocol on other species, but I’m told that is being considered once our relocation efforts are completed.”
Trina asked, “Are we safe?”
“Relax, my friend,” said Havrel. “There are four redundant safeguards in the event of a breach.” Then, because he could not resist, he turned from the viewing port and added, “Besides, if anything does get out, there’s a self-destruct system in place that will destroy everyone and everything in this entire cavern. You’ll never feel a thing.”
His expression turning apprehensive, Trina replied, “That is… reassuring.”
That evoked a laugh from Havrel before he returned his attention to the laboratory. “Worry not, Trina. Once the doctors in there finish collecting their final data, this room and all of its contents are scheduled for sterilization. It will likely be completed before midday.”
“We’re not taking the… specimens with us?” asked Trina.
Havrel shook his head. “No. The research teams have gathered as much useful information as they can from this group. The test conditions under which they’ve been operating can be re-created easily enough. Besides, there are the obvious safety and security concerns to consider.” He gestured to the viewing port. “We certainly don’t want anything like this getting out prematurely.” When Trina said nothing, he turned to his deputy. “Something about this troubles you?”
Looking around the room as though to ensure their conversation was not being overheard, the glinn replied, “Gul, I understand why weapons of this sort are created, and that they represent an added layer of security for the Cardassian people. However, I’ve seen how you treat other Bajorans. You are generous, even kind. You are not like other senior officers with whom I’ve served, and I admit I find that sort of benevolence… refreshing.”
“You wonder how I’m able to do that while overseeing experiments like these,” said Havrel. When Trina nodded, he added, “For me, the distinction is simple. The people in the room before you are either criminals or were already diagnosed with terminal medical conditions.”
Trina asked, “They volunteered to be test subjects?”
“Of course not.” Havrel almost laughed at the younger officer’s naïveté. “They simply were of no other use. Why waste already limited resources feeding and housing them when they can instead provide a greater service?” Turning from the port, he left the laboratory technicians to their work and headed into the connecting hallway as Trina followed him. “Verify with the research teams that they remain on schedule. Our preparations for departure must be completed within the next five days.” According to the communiqué he received this morning, a flotilla of transport vessels was being dispatched; they were coming from Cardassia Prime. The next several days would not be restful.
And once we’ve completed those tasks with such hurried determination, he thought, we will stand by and wait for the wheels of leadership and bureaucracy to turn ever so slowly.
Trina fell into step next to Havrel as he exited the passage and into the larger cavern that housed the bulk of the underground facility’s footprint. “It will be done, Gul. All sections report they are also on schedule.”
“This includes the genetic research teams?” asked Havrel.
“As they were the smallest group and with the least amount of equipment and staff,” replied Trina, “their preparation efforts are nearly complete.”
Noticing the glinn’s pause, Havrel prompted, “And their test subjects?”
The younger officer cleared his throat. “Already eliminated, Prefect.”
“It’s for the best,” replied Havrel. “Theirs is a controversial field of study.” Genetic manipulation and engineering had long been a subject of great contention among different interstellar communities. The aim was to find a way to enhance and improve the quality of life for Cardassian people, but experimenting on non-Cardassian subjects would of course invite denunciation in the strongest terms. The Federation would be an outspoken critic. Its banning of the practice predated even that august body’s founding. Havrel knew the consistency with which it observed, circumvented, or even outright ignored such laws was at best selective. Still, such hypocrisy would not stop Federation leaders from denouncing the practice. That the test subjects participated without their consent made the situation even more difficult.
These are the concerns of my superiors, thought Havrel, though he was well aware exposure of this facility and its activities would implicate him as much, if not more so, than those whose orders he followed.
“What of the military weapons group?” he asked.
Trina replied, “Also on schedule, Prefect.”
Havrel nodded, satisfied for the moment. In addition to their computer and holographic equipment, the weapons research team also had several prototypes in varying stages of development and construction. None of the weapons could be tested here. Exercises would take place at other locations far from this world; distant, uninhabited planets and moons where the results of their testing could remain undetected. Several weapons outlawed, or at least viewed with disdain by a number of adversarial powers, remained on-site. The existence of three weapons—subspace mines and two different mass-dispersal biowarfare agents—were outlawed by many interstellar rivals.
The weapons, along with the teams responsible for their creation, would be the first things transported to the evacuation fleet. There was no doubting the Federation would take an interest in their activities if they ever came to light. If all went according to the plans of those in the leadership, the Federation and others might well experience firsthand the effects of such weapons.
