Tales from the Captain’s Table (22 page)

I found him in his office attending to the bureaucratic details that running an operation the size of the Officers’ Club entails.

Surprised, he looked up from the tablet he was reading. “Nerys?”

“Can I talk?” The implication being, “Can anyone overhear what I’m about to say?”

Reon pressed a series of buttons mounted on his desktop and studied me expectantly.

“She called him ‘Father.’ ”

He blinked, his mouth puckered in confusion. “Who?”

“Teara. I saw it on the visual sensor readings from this afternoon. She called Gundar ‘Father.’ ”

“Gundar’s here?”

I nodded, taken aback that such a high-profile client had made it into the Club without Reon knowing. “Teara had him in the suites this afternoon.”

“Are you sure you heard her correctly?” He looked dubious.

“No question.”

Reon rolled his eyes. “Our members have all kinds of odd sexual predilections, Nerys, who’s to say that he didn’t ask her to call him that as part of some warped fantasy—”

“She called him Father in
Cardassian.
”

When Gundar showed up the next day, I was prepared. Reon, without consulting with Plin, had provided me with access to any surveillance feeds and data I wanted. I spent the greater part of the night combing through every Cardassian database the Club had, searching for information on Gundar. What I discovered didn’t bode well for Teara. Not only did Gundar have a daughter—Kayana—but his daughter had reputedly joined the Obsidian Order after graduating from an elite military academy. All recorded traces of her vanished about two years ago. An intercepted Central Command communiqué had a vague reference to Kayana being on a deep-cover intelligence assignment.

If indeed the woman I knew as Plin Teara was Kayana Gundar, she’d have a vested interest in keeping close tabs on my every move, protecting her father from the resistance. She’d make sure she was assigned to be his companion, providing him with alibis and cover should any questions be raised. In short, she’d behave exactly as Teara had been behaving since the Tulk incident. I just had to make sure that next time Gundar showed up, I was watching.

Gundar’s physical appearance surprised me, though I didn’t quite know what I should have expected from a Cardassian academic. From all reports, Gundar’s mathematical genius had protected the empire’s communications from prying Federation eyes for years. I’d envisioned him as a razor-lean, pensive, scholarly type. So when a husky, squarish glinn with drooping jowls and a protruding belly showed up at the reception desk, I checked the feed twice after I heard him identify himself as Gundar. On a monitor provided by Reon, I watched Teara approach him, her arms outstretched; Gundar folded the willowy Bajoran woman into his embrace, practically lifting her off the floor. She took him by the hand and guided him toward the turbolift. Within minutes, they’d be in the suites and within five meters of my position.

If Teara was an Order operative, she wouldn’t be foolish enough to break cover anywhere in public, so I watched the sensor feeds from the turbolift with marginal interest. Once she was in the suites, though, I’d have to be prepared to move quickly if I perceived that Teara’s behavior might put my mission at risk. Yes, I’d agreed to help Plin find the double in her operation; my first allegiance, though, was to Shakaar, and nothing—
nothing
—would prevent me from fulfilling my promises to him.

The suite door opened. Leaning forward in my chair, I hovered within centimeters of the viewscreen, hearing Gundar cross the floor behind Teara’s buoyant footsteps.

She spun around, her hands clasped together beneath her chin. “I’m so pleased to see you again,” she said, rocking back and forth; she gazed on Gundar with a shy smile.

“And I, you. I feel as though I’ve waited a lifetime.” His voice was round and melodic, like tones pulled from the strings of a Trill
cyn lara
. “Come, my child. Sit on my lap and we will talk as we have before.” He dropped down onto a couch and patted his thighs with his hands.

She moved fluidly across the room, draping her legs over his lap and curling into his shoulder.

Imagining that Teara might be the double made the scene bearable to watch. Otherwise, the mere suggestion that Gundar found Teara’s childlike behavior titillating disturbed me; I shivered, disgusted at the depths of Cardassian perversity. Whatever Shakaar had planned for the glinn he deserved. Their giggles and whispers continued. I watched, bored by their small talk, wondering when—and if—Teara would reveal herself.

She broke from Gundar’s embrace so she faced him straight-on. I couldn’t see what she was doing with her hands, but it looked like she reached into her jacket pocket to remove something. “I kept this for you since last time.”

“What a lovely girl you are, to be so thoughtful,” Gundar said. “Hopefully I can repay your conscientiousness….”

I ordered the computer to zoom in on Teara’s hand. She passed a medallion to Gundar—maybe a military honor of some sort. Teara’s behavior set off a warning beacon for me. I knew I’d seen what had just passed between Teara and Gundar before.
Think, Nerys….
I sorted through hundreds of memories until I found a match.

Years ago, in Hedrickspool, I’d been sent to retrieve a weapons shipment. The dealer was a mercenary Bajoran who preyed on the weaknesses of Cardassian supply clerks. When the arms merchant visited the weapons depot, he had removed an amulet from around his neck, flipped the back side up, and passed it to the clerk. Within minutes, the whole deal had fallen apart; I’d barely escaped with my life. I hadn’t thought about the event in ages, but now, as I replayed Teara’s behavior, I recognized the gesture for what it was: a signal. What precisely she told him, I couldn’t say, but I had my suspicions.

I ordered the computer to focus on Gundar’s face: barely concealed panic.

With haste, but quietly, I exited my hiding place, a supply closet on the suite floor. The computer kept the audio feed from the suite looped into my communication headset, so I focused intently on the conversation unfolding within. On the surface, the discussion seemed innocuous enough, but I could hear the tension in Gundar’s voice.
What the hell is Teara up to?
I paused outside the door, touched the weapon strapped to my thigh. Closing my eyes, I mentally ran through the possibilities of what I might find when I opened the door.

I liked none of them.

Here goes nothing….
I waved the all-access pass Reon had given me up to the security reader, drew my weapon from the hidden holster, and pivoted into the suite.

Teara stood before me, phaser drawn. “Took you long enough. I thought I’d have to start the party without you.”

“I prefer making a dramatic entrance.”

She smirked. “Put down your weapon or I’ll kill Gundar. What use will he be to your cause then?”

“You people never cease to amaze me. You’re right up there with the Romulans in terms of loyalty.”

“I don’t know what you’re babbling about, but I’ll be damned if I let you destroy my life’s work.” Her flinty eyes narrowed to slits.

I knew she wasn’t bluffing.

An instant before she squeezed the trigger, I dove for her legs, sending her toppling to the floor. I pushed up from the ground. Her weapon had landed on the floor beside Gundar, who reached for it. I aimed my boot for his stomach, throwing him back against the wall, winded. Teara scrambled up onto her hands and knees. Both Teara and I reached for the phaser, but her tightly fitted tunic inhibited her progress. I reached the weapon first, slamming it with my fist, sending it skidding across the floor into the corner. Gundar coughed and sputtered, clutching at his stomach, collapsing onto the couch. Teara charged toward me; I opened my arms to catch her by the shoulders and force her head down.

I wrapped my hands around Teara’s neck, squeezing her throat. She clawed at my wrists; I overpowered her, angling her neck and slamming her skull hard against a stone table. A stomach-twisting crack broke the silence. I watched Teara’s head swivel limply onto her shoulders as she toppled to the floor. I stood up and looked over at Gundar, who still wheezed like an invalid.

“I didn’t kick you that hard, you big baby,” I snapped. “Get up. We’ve got to get out of here, and I’m not carrying you.”

Though how I’d move Gundar out of the club compound without being noticed I’d yet to figure out. I searched the room for something I could use to secure Gundar’s hands and feet with, and finally settled on using his own weapons belt. While I knotted the leather strap, his limbs trembled incessantly. I used Teara’s scarf to gag him.

This operation had gone down so quickly, I hadn’t even had time to signal Shakaar to let him know Gundar was on the way. Glancing over at Teara’s corpse, I wondered how Plin would take the news of her daughter’s death—never mind her betryal. When Teara had been kidnapped and doubled was unknown and might never be now. Asking Plin for help at this point could be risky. One last time, I had to trust Reon to help me escape the club.

Minutes felt like hours until he arrived. I knew, though, as soon as he came through the door, that he’d conceived an ingenious solution for moving Gundar. He’d brought with him a food transport hovercart—about a meter and a half long and a meter tall. The servers used them to move food from the kitchens and replicator stations into the banquet areas. I quickly helped Reon empty out the cart’s interior. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched, amused, at Gundar’s fear playing out over his face. Reon removed a hypospray from his pocket and pressed it to Gundar’s neck. The Cardassian slumped over, passed out cold. Together, Reon and I managed to heft him off the couch and into the transport cart’s hollowed-out interior. Once Reon secured the lid on the top, I sighed, relieved. “Can he breathe?”

“The cart’s designed to vent steam. He shouldn’t have a problem,” Reon said distractedly.

I followed his gaze; he stared at Teara or Kayana or whoever she might have been. “I’m sorry, Reon.”

“So am I,” he said. “Though I suppose I’m not entirely surprised. She’s been behaving strangely for a while now. I can only guess that she was doubled on one of our offworld supply trips.”

“The real Teara might still be alive.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“No, I don’t.”

He took a deep breath. “We’d better get going.”

I nodded.

“We probably shouldn’t travel to the shuttlebay together; I typically don’t accompany housemaids or servers on their duties. Though I don’t know how I’ll find you—” He paused, dropped his eyes to the ground, his brow furrowed in concentration, then abruptly looked back up. “I’ll activate the tracking device on your communication unit. I’ll monitor your progress from my office and catch up with you once you’re out of the way of regular club traffic.”

“What about—” I jerked my head in the direction of the body.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said softly.

Using the service lifts, I made it out of the suite wing without incident. I then needed to clear the maintenance areas, pass through the lobby, and then move toward the transportation center. My gray Club staff uniform drew no notice from those around me. I did what hundreds of workers did every day, though part of me expected to be stopped and accused of murder at any moment.

I’d killed for the resistance before, and more than a few of my kills had been premeditated; I wasn’t squeamish about dealing death. Why this time felt different I couldn’t say. I replayed my confrontation with Teara over and over as I walked until I realized what bothered me.

Teara had never confessed to being the double.

I had suspicions and fairly damning circumstantial evidence, but no absolute proof. Reon might be able to check her physiology with one of his medical gadgets, but until then, there loomed a possibility in my mind—however slight—that I might have been wrong. Or not. As long as I met my mission objectives, did it matter?

Wishing away the confusion, I closed my eyes. Turmoil seethed within me.

Teara might have been framed.

I might be heading for an ambush for myself or Shakaar.

My chest tightened. Too many questions nagged at me; so much was at risk. I ducked into an alcove, out of hearing, and entered Plin’s page code into my comm unit.

“Yes.”

“Teara’s dead,” I whispered.

Silence.

“I killed her because I had reason to believe she was the double.”

“You should have come to me, it didn’t have to end this—”

“Listen—I might have been wrong. There’s a chance Teara was set up. You have to check the internal communication network and see who Gundar’s been talking to since he arrived.”

“We shouldn’t be talking this way. Why don’t I meet you and we can do this together?”

“I’m gone, Plin. The only reason we’re having this conversation is because I want justice.”

I clicked off the com link and headed toward the lobby, picking up my pace. I had about a hundred and fifty meters before I reached the shuttlebay and had no time to waste.