The Brave and the Bold Book Two - Keith R. A. DeCandido [40]
Tuvok looked up. “The temperature is once again rising, and the snow has stopped. I would suggest that we follow the computer’s directive.”
“Yeah.” As Hudson moved toward the door, he pointed at Chakotay’s phaser. “Let’s hope you won’t need to use that—or make that choice.”
The door to the building didn’t open any further than it had before, but they managed to get through. At least now they knew why the capital city—Slaybis Central? What bureaucrat thought that was a good name for a town? he wondered—seemed like a ghost town: it was.
Again, the heat of the sun bore down on the city streets, melting the snow that had already started to accumulate. Now, however, the humidity had not died down. “This,” Hudson said, “is getting tiresome.”
“Isn’t there an old joke about how if you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes?” Chakotay said with a small smile.
“The quote is often attributed to a human author named Samuel Clemens, who wrote under the name Mark Twain,” Tuvok said without hesitating. “It was an attempt to humorously convey the inconsistent weather patterns of San Francisco—illogical, as that city has an unusually even climate for an Earth city.”
“Twain was big on illogic,” Hudson said with a grin. “C’mon, let’s move.”
Why are you talking? You must destroy!
“Get out of my head,” Tharia muttered.
“Excuse me?” the Starfleet captain said, a frown on his face.
“Nothing,” Tharia said quickly. “There is nothing to say.”
“Then why am I here?”
“Not—never mind.”
Tharia started pacing across the room. The device continued to whisper in his mind. But he was having doubts.
It had all seemed so sensible at first. The Cardassians had to die, he knew that now —knew it, with a clarity he’d never had regarding anything in his life.
From there, he knew that all the traitors had to die: Chakotay and his stupid limitations, Elois Phifer—whose corpse he had been sure to identify—for betraying them, the people of Slaybis IV—
Why did they have to die?
Everyone must die. They must all pay for letting your mates die.
Tharia had been sure of that. At first.
No, more than sure. Certain. He had no regrets about what he did on Nramia.
…bodies broken, lying in the street…
(Don’t think about it.)
Nor did he regret what he did to Chakotay and the others. They deserved it for trying to stop him. Chakotay upbraiding him—Seska actually criticizing him for killing Cardassians! And her a Bajoran, how could she do that?
But the people of Slaybis IV. Not to mention those farmers on Slaybis II, where he planned to go next. What of them?
What of them? Just think about revenge. That’s all that matters.
“Yes. Revenge—it’s all that matters.”
“Revenge against who, Mr. ch’Ren?”
Tharia looked up suddenly. He had actually forgotten about the Earther captain. What was his name? Whoever he was, he had come and asked to talk—the alternative was for them to fire on him and kill him and destroy his gift.
They can’t destroy me. Every method was attempted to destroy me. They failed. I am indestructible. Nothing can stop me.
“The Cardassians,” Tharia said, trying to ignore the voice. “They killed my mates—took our land, betrayed us at every turn. They have to be stopped, Captain. All of them must pay for what they’ve done.”
“I can understand your feelings, Mr. ch’Ren, but—there aren’t any Cardassians here.”
“No, no, there was something worse than a Cardassian here—there was a traitor. Phifer claimed to be one of us, but he betrayed our cause. He needed to be stopped, don’t you understand? It’s because of traitors like him that the Cardassians felt free to destroy our home! Athmin, Ushra, Shers—they’re all dead because of them!”
“I understand your anger,” the captain said in a maddeningly calm voice—as calm as Chakotay had been when he dared to criticize Tharia on the Geronimo.”But there are thousands on this planet who did not