Lost Era 06_ Catalyst of Sorrows - Margaret Wander Bonanno [88]
“I love you, too!” Sisko whispered to the empty space where Jennifer had been. With a sigh he checked the readings and saw his three charges more or less in the same place they’d been last time he checked, in the company of a fourth party, no doubt still arranging for travel permits. He realized Crusher was probably waiting in the wings for him to sign off, and signaled her.
“Ask you something, Doctor?” he said once he had her attention.
“Certainly.”
“How do we know this whole mission isn’t a setup?”
Crusher put her hands in the pockets of her medical smock and leaned back in her chair, rotating it slightly from side to side.
“I’m listening,” she said.
“We’re inside the Neutral Zone in violation of treaty, on the basis of data sent to SI specifically to Admiral Uhura’s attention, supposedly from a Romulan official she once met on Khitomer.”
Crusher waited. She obviously knew he had more, but was hesitating. “And-?” she prompted.
“And wouldn’t this be just the perfect opportunity for a cloaked Romulan ship to pick us off before we even knew they were there or, worse, bring us in tow and take us back to the Empire as political prisoners for a show trial? And when we tried to tell them that we were working for their benefit as well as our own, they’d tell us there was no such disease within the Empire, and we were using it as an excuse to violate the Zone.”
This time it was Crusher who held the silence.
“Am I being paranoid, Doctor? Or have these thoughts occurred to you as well?”
She sighed. “As a matter of fact, they have. But there’s no question that there’s a very real disease killing people on both sides. Seems like an awfully elaborate hoax to pick off just one little ship. Now, why don’t you say what’s really on your mind?”
“All right, what about Zetha? How do we know she’s not a plant?”
“We don’t. But unless she’s been sent on a suicide mission, she’s as much at risk as you are.”
“How do you figure?” Sisko asked, growing heated. “If the ship is attacked, granted, we’re all dead. But I’m thinking of her signaling to her side that we’re here, or tampering with the tests Selar’s running in the lab…” He realized he was overreacting, and forced himself to calm. “I’m sorry. I know Selar backs up all her research and confirms it with you, and I keep an eye on Zetha anytime she’s in my vicinity, but I keep thinking there’s something more here, something we’ve all missed, even Tuvok, for all his security training. Something that could get us all killed.”
Crusher had the grace to wait until he was finished. “The same thoughts have crossed my mind, Lieutenant. But I wonder if we aren’t all guilty of just a little bit of species profiling here. Wouldn’t the joke be on us if Zetha turns out to be exactly what she claims to be? In any case, nothing we can do about it now except play the hand we’ve been dealt and see the game to its end.”
“Now you’re starting to sound like my friend Curzon,” Sisko muttered.
“Then I’ll take it as a compliment,” Crusher replied. “Time for me to log off. Good night, Lieutenant.”
“Good night, Doctor,” Sisko said, and waited for the chrono’s next signal.
As they were leaving, travel permits in hand, Tuvok asked Jarquin one thing more, something any Romulan might ask another.
“How often do you hear from your sons?”
He had been mindful of the small framed holos set apart from the clutter on Jarquin’s desk, of two handsome young men, close in age if not twins, whose features strongly resembled their father’s intermixed with those of what must be a beautiful mother.
Jarquin hesitated before he answered.
“I haven’t, since they left for the homeworld. It’s very common. They lose interest in their birth-world, lose touch with those they left behind. Many never speak to their families again. Maybe they’re ashamed of their roots, of coming from this place. They want to blend in, give their allegiance to their new home. Then again, there could be other factors, political unrest,