The Devil's Heart - Carmen Carter [100]
“I don’t know, Lieutenant,” said Matasu, “but I hope whoever, or whatever, is responsible stays the hell away from my starbase.”
And may the gods help Jean-Luc Picard, wherever he may be.
Kanda Jiak shivered when he stepped into the cold air of the detention cell. He longed for the thick knit sweater tucked into his backpack, a farewell present from First Officer Conrad, but all his belongings had been confiscated when he entered the security complex.
Turning to his armed escort, Jiak protested one last time. “But I’m not a Dynasian!”
“Right,” said the guard with a weary sigh. “You just happen to look like one.” Her finger tapped out a rapid sequence on a wall panel.
The young man jumped back as the high humming sound of a force field snapped into place along the frame of the portal. The immi gration official of Hayhurst Junction had described this detention as a bureaucratic formality, so Jiak had expected to spend a few hours in a passenger lounge; instead, he had been taken to a security chamber for interrogation. The references to ambassadors and starships and insurgents had been completely bewildering, but there was no mistaking the consternation of the Starfleet officers.
Somehow, the Dynasians had angered the Federation even more thoroughly than the DiWahns.
Jiak gingerly approached the entrance of his cell. Careful not to touch the field itself, he craned his neck to look up and down the outside corridor. The guard was gone.
I’m a political prisoner.
That realization was almost as comical as it was frightening. In either event, it was a reality that could not be wished away or cried away, so he blinked back tears and turned to greet his companion in confinement.
Jiak had caught only a brief impression of a robed figure huddled on one of the narrow cots. Upon a closer look, however, the young Iconian made out the features shadowed by the heavy cowl. The man’s forehead was ridged in a fan-shaped pattern that arched over his purple eyes, and his skin was a delicate shade of violet. This was no mirror image of Jiak’s own face, but they both clearly bore the stamp of a shared genetic heritage.
When he could breathe again, Jiak stammered, “Are you … a Dynasian?”
“That is what my identity papers maintain,” said the man. His lips curled into a sly smile.
“I’ve never seen another Iconian before … at least, not since I was a small child.” Jiak struggled for composure, restrained by his cellmate’s apparent indifference to this statement.
“My name is Kanda Jiak.”
“The Gem-Bearer’s namesake!” The Dynasian’s richly colored eyes took on a gleam of excitement. “How did you come by such an illustrious name?”
Buoyed by this welcome, Jiak settled cross-legged on the floor by the man’s feet and spilled out the story of the last days of Ikkabar and his own flight from Redifer. “Before I reached Hayhurst Junction, I tried to visit DiWahn, but—” “DiWahn!” The man darted forward and grabbed a fistful of Jiak’s shirt. “What do you know of the planet DiWahn?”
“Nothing … all travel to the system was suspended.” The intensity of the man’s demand was unnerving. “Conrad said the trouble had something to do with an armada and the threat of armed aggression against the Federation.”
“Ah, so the fleet of the Faithful was launched!” Releasing his hold on Jiak, the man fell back against the cell wall. He gazed into the distance, as if witnessing a vision shimmering in the air. “After generations of waiting, our time to enter the Dreaming has arrived.”
T’Sara’s writings on the diaspora had recorded the beliefs of the DiWahn they were obsessed with the dreams of the Gem-Bearers. “But you said you were a Dynasian!”
“I have said many things in my life.” The Iconian uttered a throaty chuckle. “The consulate is checking my identity papers, just as they are checking yours. Who knows what they will find in their search? If they find the truth, I will remain in this cell, or one very much like it, for the rest of my life.”
“I’m sorry,” said Jiak, yet he wondered uneasily what crime the fugitive