The Battle of Betazed - Charlotte Douglas [28]
If the decision had been his, Lemec would never have allied his world with the Dominion. He despised the vat-grown soldiers and their unctuous Vorta keepers. First and foremost, Lemec was a patriot, and he harbored a deep resentment of the alliance that had been bought with Cardassia’s independence. Only the chance to be on the winning side in a war against the hated Federation offset being forced to share his command of the Betazed occupation with the Vorta Luaran and her Jem’Hadar.
And if cooperating with the soft-voiced, repellent Luaran strengthened his position as prefect of Betazed and Sentok Nor, then Lemec would swallow his distaste and appear conciliatory. At the present, Luaran was less an impediment to his success and eventual promotion than the ego-driven Dr. Crell Moset, the renowned Cardassian scientist who had set up shop aboard the station to direct the bio-research that the Dominion had made their top priority.
Unfortunately, Moset’s insatiable requests for more subjects for his experiments prevented the Betazoids from accepting their fate and cooperating fully with their conquerors. The more civilians Moset required, the more rebellious and entrenched the resistance movement on the planet became. Lemec was counting on Luaran’s help to stem Moset’s excesses, at least until Lemec could ferret out the resistance leaders and stabilize control of the planet.
He forged his way through the day crew in the operations center to the commander’s office and tried to keep his impatience under control. Much to his annoyance, the Vorta had called another meeting of the administrative staff.
He entered the office, and Luaran glided smoothly around the desk to greet him. With difficulty, the Cardassian smothered his frown of distaste. Her frail form and soft pale face offended his sense of aesthetics. Lemec, however, kept his opinions to himself. He would not allow his dislike of Luaran to show. He would hold his tongue and bide his time, hoping for her support in tempering Moset’s demands.
Luaran offered the gul his favorite morning beverage of hot fish juice, and he accepted with a curt nod of thanks, then mumbled a greeting to Moset.
The exobiologist was on sabbatical from the University of Culat so that he could contribute to the war effort. Renowned for his brilliance in nonhumanoid exobiology, Moset, in addition to his classified experiments, oversaw the production of Jem’Hadar on the station. With a weathered visage and graying hair, Moset had entered Luaran’s office humming as if he had no cares in the world. He was always humming, Lemec thought with irritation. Someday he was going to stuff a combat boot down the doctor’s throat to shut him up and give a poor gul some peace. Apparently unaware of how much his habit annoyed others, Moset brushed a speck of lint from his laboratory coat and accepted a cup of hot fish juice.
“I need more Betazoid subjects,” Moset demanded before the Vorta had a chance to state the purpose of her meeting.
The muscles in Luaran’s face tensed slightly before returning to their customary calm. “You have received an adequate number.”
“Yes,” Lemec agreed. “Use the ones already being stored in the docking ring.”
“They don’t have the appropriate genetic markers.”
“Then send them back to the planet,” Lemec insisted. “They’re a drain on our resources.”
“They will be of use later, once I’ve broken the genetic code.” Moset glared at Lemec. “If you’d bring me half as many subjects as you’ve been executing, I’d have what I need.”
Lemec was unperturbed by the accusation. He would not tolerate insurrection and sabotage.
“You’re shooting Betazoids?” The disapproval in the Vorta’s voice was muted but unmistakable. “Can’t you find a better way to control them?”
“The ones on the planet were shot as an example against their resistance movement,” Lemec said. “The ones executed on the station were attempting to destroy our production of ketracel-white. I think you’ll agree that we must deter both.”
“I remind you, Gul,” Moset said, “that my research is the reason we are here at