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“I wonder,” the Vulcan replied stiffly. “You shamed our host-and he appears to be a proud man.”

“I didn’t shame him,” Crusher responded, stepping into his trousers and belting them. “I just called his bluff. We talked business.”

“On the contrary,” Tuvok said, “it is my belief that we have made a powerful enemy in Pudris Barrh.”

The commander frowned. “Look, I’m only doing what needs to be done. These people play rough.”

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. “That is precisely my concern.”

Crusher began to pull on his boots. “Trust me, Tuvok-I know what I’m doing. Barrh and his colleagues treat each other like yesterday’s garbage.” He jerked a thumb at the door that led to the bath. “Look at how they refer to their employees. They call them steeds-as if they’re fit for nothing more than getting them where they want to go.”

“The reference did not escape me,” said Tuvok.

“If we don’t act as tough and dangerous as they are,” the commander went on, “they won’t show us any respect. If you want to worry about something, worry about that.”

The Vulcan disagreed. He said so-to Crusher’s surprise and chagrin, apparently. “You have put us in unnecessary danger,” Tuvok observed. “When this assignment is completed, I will make note of that in my report. And I will add that you are motivated, at least in part, by the pleasure you take in acting out your role.”

The human stared at him. “You think I enjoy this?”

“I do,” the ensign replied honestly.

Crusher turned an angry shade of red. “That’s fine,” he said, glancing at the doors to make sure no one was eavesdropping on them. “You can think what you want. You can even report what you want. Just remember that while this mission is in progress, you follow my orders-no matter how many years you’ve got on me. Is that understood?”

Tuvok was inclined to retort, but he refrained from doing so. After all, the human was correct in his assessment of the Vulcan’s responsibilities. Tuvok had voiced his objection-he could do no more.

“I will do as you say,” he agreed at last.

That seemed to take the edge off Crusher’s anger. Taking a breath, the human continued getting dressed. But now and then, he threw a searching look in the Vulcan’s direction.

Crusher wished to be his friend, Tuvok noted. He had recognized that from the moment they met. The Vulcan had even acknowledged that he and the commander had something in common-families they cared for a great deal, though they were far away.

However, every move Crusher had made on this planet had irritated and alarmed Tuvok-and placed their mission in jeopardy. Mentally, the ensign began drafting his report.

He only hoped that he would live long enough to record it.

Chapter Eleven

MENDAN ABBIS WAS A HAPPY MAN.

The Thallonian ale in his goblet was surprisingly good today. It had even been served at room temperature to bring out the tartness in it. Even his Indarrhi friend Wyl was in a pleasant mood, having had his fill of Mephylite pleasure pods.

But most importantly, thought Abbis, Melacronai and Cordracites were dying in obscene numbers, and no one had the slightest idea why. Everything was going just as he had planned.

Abbis had even learned to like Debennius VI, the irreplaceable “Last Stop to Nowhere.” For the rest of his long and exceedingly powerful life, he would look upon these days and this place with great fondness.

Even The Den had its good points, he reflected as he looked around. It was almost always dark and crowded, and people left one alone. It smelled a bit, of course, but what was that but a minor inconvenience?

“He’s here,” said Wyl in his high, nasal voice.

Abbis straightened a bit. The Indarrhi’s empathic abilities might be rudimentary, but the Thallonian trusted him to be able to pick out a single Cordracite in a crowd. Wyl’s silver eyes were fixed on the door, and by concentrating Abbis could make out the pale, insectoid form half-hidden by bodies and smoke.

Smothering a grin, the Thallonian waved down a waiter with a tray