Myriad Universes 02_ Echoes and Refractions - Keith R. A. DeCandido [37]
Moving toward the rear of the room, he climbed a few short steps to an upper platform set off from the rest of the establishment by a long, sweeping railing. By some miracle he located an empty table near a back corner, secluded enough to remain inconspicuous yet positioned so that he could observe the entire bar. Within moments an Orion waitress approached him.
“Hi, hon,” she said with forced brightness. “Are you waiting for someone?”
“I hope so,” Thelin replied. “Or else I’ve made this trip for nothing.”
“Well, can I get you something?”
“Just Altair water.”
“Got it,” she said, and disappeared back into the crowd.
Minutes passed. A human-looking man approached his table, diminutive in stature, with long, dark wavy hair, holding a multicolored, sparkling drink in his hand. “Why, Thelin of Andoria!” he exclaimed. “Is this seat taken?”
Thelin scrutinized the man’s face. Something about him seemed awfully familiar, but the memory was fleeting, and he couldn’t nail it down. “I trust it shall be, if indeed you are the one who brought me here.”
The man smiled, setting down his glass, then seating himself in the chair opposite Thelin. “Well, of course. I have some very important information to pass along from some very important people.”
“You mean some very important criminals,” Thelin construed. “Otherwise we wouldn’t be going through all this subterfuge.”
The man laughed heartily, and shrugged in acknowledgment. “You always were the clever one, weren’t you? My…it’s been a while since we met on Deep Space K-7, hasn’t it?”
A light of recognition flashed on in Thelin’s mind. “Arne Darvin!” he exclaimed with more than a hint of revulsion, recalling the man’s role some seventeen years earlier as a surgically altered Klingon spy.
Darvin nodded noncommittally as he sipped his drink. “Well, I go by many names, and I must say I’ve rather grown to detest that one in particular…but if it helps to breed some familiarity between us, so be it.”
“I thought you were in prison,” the Andorian said.
“I was in prison,” he said scornfully, “for several months before I was returned to the Empire in a prisoner exchange.”
“They released you? Pfft,” Thelin spat. “I’d have thrown away the key.” The Orion waitress returned and set down a glass of clear liquid in front of the Andorian.
“Oh, come now, Thelin,” Darvin said. “No one died except a few thousand of those miserable furry little beasts. If anything, I did the people on that station a favor.”
“You’re very lucky that I discovered the tribbles had been poisoned,” Thelin said. “If that grain had reached Sherman’s Planet and been fed to the colonists, thousands of people could have died.”
“Oh, yes, of course, I’m very lucky,” Darvin said as he raised his glass to his lips again while rolling his eyes. “Please, keep reminding me to express my eternal gratitude. I tend to forget such things.”
Thelin shook his head. “And now here you are…an errand boy for intragalactic outlaws.”
“What would you have me do?” Darvin’s affable facade had begun to crumble away. “Did you think I could return to Qo’noS? I am without a house, without honor…a pariah within the Klingon Empire. Where would you have me go, Thelin of Andoria???”
Thelin had no answer. He casually looked about, but Darvin’s fit of pique didn’t seem to be attracting any unwelcome attention.
“That’s what I thought,” Darvin continued. “You pampered Federation types are so accustomed to your lives of ease, everything provided for