STAR TREK - TNG - 52 - Double Helix - Vectors

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Chapter One

TEROK NOR. Its name was as dark as its corridors. He

actually found himself seeking the light, but carefully.

Oh, so carefully. Sometimes his cloak malfunctioned,

and he was seen. Partially, like a heat shimmer across

desert sand, or an electronic memory buried in an old

computer. But he was seen.

He didn't dare make that mistake here. The Gener-

al didn't tolerate mistakes from his agents.

He stood in the shadows just to the left of the main

entrance to a place called Quark's Bar. The area the

Ferengi bartender had called the Promenade lay be-

fore him, turning away to the right, bending with the

shape of the station design. The walls were gray, the

floors gray, everything was gray. The Cardassians had

made no effort to decorate this place. Even the bar

seemed dismal.

He shuddered and drew his cape around his body.

He was glad he wouldn't have to stay here too long.

This Terok Nor reminded him of his prison cell. He

had lost too many years of his life there. He had

spent too much time staring at gray metal walls,

dreaming of escape. The metal walls, the ringing

sound of boots against hard surfaces, the stench of

fear--impossible to hide, even though the Cardassi-

ans kept their Bajoran prisoners separate from the

rest of the populationapermeated the place. If he

shut his eyes, his other senses would find nothing to

distinguish Terok Nor from that hideous cell, from

that prison he had finally left. The prison had

changed him--made him bitter, made him wiser,

made him more careful. Oh, so careful.

Two Cardassian guards walked the wide passage.

Their gray skin matched the depressing decor. The

only thing that seemed wrong to him was the heat. By

rights this station should have been as cold as its

walls, but it wasn't. The heat was thick and nearly

unbearable. He didn't know how anyone could stand

being here for long. The heat also accentuated the

smells: the processed air, the unwashed bodies, the

Rokassa juice wafting out from the bar. The sensa-

tions were almost too much for him.

He reminded himself that Terok Nor was the per-

fect testing ground. Two races, living in close prox-

imity, with others coming and going. Their petty

differences didn't matter. That one race kept the other

prisoner, that one made the other labor in uridium

processing were merely details. The important factor

was much larger.

Terok Nor was the perfect testing ground for the

General. A closed system, for the most part. But any-

one entering the systemmor departing the system~

would leave a record. A trail he could follow, should

he so choose.

He didn't choose at the moment.

Now he was most interested in Terok Nor itself.

To his right in the bar, crowds of uridium freighter

pilots and crews shouted and laughed, the sounds

echoing off the high ceilings. A few moments before,

he'd been in there sitting at the bar, watching.

Waiting.

Trying to stay cool and block out the uridium smell

with the odor of one of the pilots' Gamzian wine. But

it hadn't helped, and besides, he couldn't see that well

or hear that clearly with his cloak on.

A clang from the far end of the Promenade caught

his attention. One of the Cardassian guards had

dropped his phaser pistol, then grabbed the wall as if

for support. The other guard bent over him, then

glanced from side to side, as if worried that a Bajoran

might see and take advantage.

He was too far away to hear their words. The first

guard shrugged the other off. The second guard

picked up the pistol and spoke on his communicator.

Two guards who had apparently been patrolling just

out of his line of sight ran toward the far end of the

Promenade.

The first guard put an arm around the second, who

again shrugged him off. The second tried to stand,

and nearly collapsed. The first guard supported him,

and together they walked along the walls, keeping as

far out of sight as possible.

He felt excitement flash through him, and he

tamped it down. He couldn't let his emotions inter-

fere with his observations. This might be nothing. It

was a bit early to see results. He hadn't expected

anything so soon.

The guards passed him. He had to press himself

against the gray metal so that they wouldn't brush

him. They weren't conversing, although he wished

they would. He wanted to know exactly what had

happened.

He needed to know.

He had moved to follow the guards, but the Prome-

nade gave him no cover. So he remained in the

shadows.

He would wait here, in the heat and the stench, just

as he had done in his cell. He was good at waiting,

especially when he knew it would end. And it would

end.

Soon he would get his answer.

Chapter Two

"I TELL YOU, BARTENDER," the drunk Cardassian

freighter pilot was saying, none too softly, "someone

has been sniffing my Gamzian wine."

"You don't sniff Gamzian wine," Quark said for the

eighteenth time. He loaded up another tray, carefully

balancing the Saurian brandy bottle in the center so

that Rom wouldn't drop the whole thing. As if train-

ing his brother weren't enough of a headache, Quark

had a bar full of pilots and crew--mostly Cardassian,

all of them drunk, and none of them more annoying

than the pilot at the very edge of the bar, nearest the

door. He had been complaining about hearing sniffing

sounds, which, Quark had to admit, he had thought

he had heard too. But they had been coming from an

empty chair beside the pilot. They were probably an

acoustical trick, caused by loud voices and even

louder laughter, not to mention--

A crash echoed through the bar, and all the noise

stopped as everyone looked at the table closest to the

Dabo game. Quark couldn't see what was going on,

but he knew. He knew even before his brother Rom

pushed his way out of a group of Cardassians, looking

like a misbehaving child trying to find his way past a

group of annoyed grownups. Rom was bowing and

apologizing and moving quicker than Quark had ever

seen him move.

Rom darted behind the bar, just as a Cardassian

stood, drenched in Romulan ale. The blue liquid

coated his neck ridges, making him look as if some

fanciful person had decided that he needed a spot of

color.

"Ferengi!" he barked.

Rom was cringing behind the bar, clinging to

Quark's legs. Quark kicked him off.

"It wasn't my fault, brother," Rom said.

"Sure looks like it to me," Quark said.

Rom peeked over the bar, then ducked quickly,

narrowly missing the tray Quark had just filled. The

Cardassian was heading toward them. He looked

bigger than most Cardassians, if that was possible,

and meaner too.

Quark shook his leg, but Rom wouldn't let go.

The Cardassian shoved two patrons aside as he

reached the bar. "You!" he said, grabbing Quark's

collar and lifting him against the bar itself. Rom was

still clinging to his leg, and Quark felt as if he were

being stretched so hard that he might actually snap.

"Me?" he asked, trying to sound innocent.

"You!" The Cardassian pulled harder. Quark shook

his foot desperately. They were going to break some-

thing or worse--he'd be tall as a Bajoran when they

were done.

"Me?" Quark said again, still shaking that foot.

Rom was like a tube grub.

"You!" the Cardassian said, and yanked. Quark's

foot slipped through Rom's grasp, and he overbal-

anced the Cardassian, who fell backwards, pulling

Quark with him. Quark grabbed at the bar, then a

customer, then a table to catch his balance. Instead,

he bounced on the Cardassian's chest.

The man smelled so fiercely of Romulan ale that

Quark nearly sneezed. He apologized and rolled off

the Cardassian, resisting the urge to scramble behind

the bar as Rom had done. Quark had learned, in his

years on Terok Nor, that the best way to handle

Cardassians--usualty--was to act as if their most

unreasonable behavior were normal.

He braced himself on a chair, got to his feet, and

tugged his shirt in place. The Romulan ale smell had

followed him, and he resisted the urge to glance down.

Once that stuff was on someone's clothing, it never

came off. He didn't want to add a ruined shirt to

Rom's list of errors this night.

"Much as I enjoyed our game," Quark said to the

Cardassian, "I must get back to work. Is there any-

thing I can get you?"

The Cardassian held a hand to his head. Quark

couldn't tell if that was because the man had hit it or

because the liquor he had consumed was finally

making itself felt.

"Get me the Ferengi weasel whom you use as a

serving wench."

"Wench?" Quark heard Rom's voice from behind

the bar. This was the wrong time for Rom to take

offense, at anything.

"You must mean my brother," Quark said, trying to

think of a way to placate the Cardassian. "He's filling

in tonight. He has never worked in a bar before--"

"That's obvious," someone said from behind

Quark.

"-so if he's offended you in some way, let me

make it up to you. I could refill your ale, or give you a

half hour in one of my holosuites, or find someone to

clean and press your uniform--"

"I want the Ferengi," the Cardassian said. He was

sitting up on one elbow, his face prayer than Quark

had ever seen Cardassian skin look.

Quark glanced at the bar. Rom would pay for this.

All of it. The entire day. The entire week.

"I'm a Ferengi," Quark said.

"I'm not blind," the Cardassian said. "I want the

other one!"

Quark closed his eyes for a moment. He would

never get into the Divine Treasury. Never. Certainly

not with Rom on Terok Nor.

"He's behind the bar," Quark whispered.

"What?" the Cardassian said.

"Behind. The. Bar." Quark opened his eyes. His

eleven-year-old nephew Nog was watching him from

the stairs, the boy's round face filled with a mixture of

sadness and anger.

The Cardassian got to his feet. "You, you, and

you," he said pointing to three other Cardassians. He

certainly wasn't big on names. "Get that little maggot

out here."

Quark held up his hands. "I really don't approve of

bloodshed in my bar."

"I am not interested in blood," the Cardassian said.

The three Cardassian crewmen pulled Rom out

from behind the bar. He was kicking, shaking his

head, and apologizing all at the same time.

"Hold him there." The Cardassian pointed at the

chair Quark was standing near. Quark took a few

steps back, sneaking another glance at Nog.

The bar was silent except for Rom's protests. Nog

mouthed, Help him, to Quark, who promptly turned

away.

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摘要：

ChapterOne TEROKNOR.Itsnamewasasdarkasitscorridors.Heactuallyfoundhimselfseekingthelight,butcarefully.Oh,socarefully.Sometimeshiscloakmalfunctioned,andhewasseen.Partially,likeaheatshimmeracrossdesertsand,oranelectronicmemoryburiedinanoldcomputer.Buthewasseen. Hedidn'tdaremakethatmistakehere.TheGen...

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STAR TREK - TNG - 52 - Double Helix - Vectors

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