Myriad Universes 02_ Echoes and Refractions - Keith R. A. DeCandido [86]
There was, however, a clear path from the door to the bar, because at the end of that path was Skrain Dukat. Everyone on the station knew to stay out of the gul’s way.
As Damar approached the bar, the proprietor placed a large glass of kanar in front of the station prefect. “Uh, here you go, Gul Dukat. It’s at the temperature you like-and it’s, uh, on the house, of course.”
Inclining his head, Dukat grabbed the glass. “Thank you, Rom. How is business?”
“Oh, it’s fine. Although-” The Ferengi hesitated. “one of the holosuites is down. I’ve tried to perform maintenance, but“
“Say no more,” Dukat said with a smile after swallowing some of his drink. “I’ll have Karris take a look at it before she goes off duty.”
Rom gave a wide, snaggletoothed smile. “Thank you, Gul! That’s very nice of you.”
“Nonsense. Your holosuites are one of the station’s main attractions. I’m simply looking out for the station’s well-being.” He took another sip of kanar.
Damar remained standing behind Dukat. He knew that the gul had registered Damar’s presence, and he’d been serving on Terok Nor just long enough to know better than to interrupt. Dukat would speak to him when he was ready, not a moment before.
“How fares your brother?”
Rom sounded almost petulant. “How should I know? Quark hasn’t spoken a word to me since he sold me this place and bought his moon! It’s like I don’t even have a brother!” Rom blinked a few times. “Actually, that’s kinda nice, now that I think about it.”
Dukat chuckled and gulped down more of his drink, before finally turning to look at his security chief. “Ah, Damar. Please tell me that you’ve made progress in your search for our elusive shapeshifter.”
“I’m afraid I can’t, Gul. I questioned Garak, but he claimed to know nothing.”
Frowning, Dukat said, “I thought you said he’d obtained the pieces for a containment unit that could hold one of his kind.”
“Yes-he showed me what he was building with those parts. Trust me, it wouldn’t hold Odo, or much of anything else.”
“You believe Garak to be a false lead?”
Damar hesitated. “I can’t tell if he is a false lead, or if he is sufficiently good at covering his tracks. There’s circumstantial evidence to support the notion that he’s hiding something, and you’ve seen the same anomalies in his records I have-it practically screams the Order. But, as usual for the Order, there’s no evidence. And he could simply be who he says he is-a plain, simple, very annoying clothier.”
Laughing, Dukat put what he probably thought was a reassuring hand on Damar’s shoulder. “I understand your frustration, Damar, believe me. I have my own-shall we call them issues?-with Garak. I believe you should search his shop-top to bottom. Leave no dress unturned. Anything that cannot be accounted for as belonging in a clothier’s is to be confiscated.”
This struck Damar to be as big a waste of time as questioning Garak-if he really was Order, he wouldn’t be that sloppy-but he knew many of the people under his command didn’t like Garak, and would take joy in ripping apart his store. If nothing else, it’d be good for morale. “It’ll be done tomorrow morning, right when he opens.”
“Good. Now, then-”
Whatever else Dukat was going to say was interrupted by an explosion, followed by the sound of an alarm. Before he even fully registered the alarm, Damar’s feet were moving, running to the exit and toward the ore processors.
His people were already evacuating personnel. The acrid stench of burning conduits filled his nostrils, and the air was thick with smoke. There was evidence of a fire, but the internal fire-suppression systems appeared to have done their work.
Activating his communicator with one hand while clearing smoke from his face with the other, he said, “Damar to infirmary, medical emergency in Ore Processing, Section 9.”
“On my way,” said the voice of the doctor on duty.
Seeing one of his officers, Glinn Comra, Damar asked,