The Sky's the Limit - Marco Palmieri [149]
I wasn’t about to continue letting him manipulate me. “What were you doing on that ship, Madred? I can’t imagine you were reduced to captaining an old wreck like that.”
“I was not the Pakliros’s shipmaster, if that is what you are asking, Captain. But I see no reason to share my mission with the likes of you.”
“If not with me, then with one of those boorish security chiefs you were lamenting earlier. It would be easier for all of us if you spoke now.”
Madred turned and sat back down on the bunk. “Perhaps. I would ask a boon in return for that information, however—I demand to see Glinn Driana.”
For the first time, I smiled. “In this room, you do not make demands.”
With that, I turned and left the brig.
He brings his daughter Jelora into the room, telling her that humans don’t love their mothers and fathers the way they do—the usual tired propaganda regarding one’s enemy.
After she departs, I tell Madred the truth: “Your daughter is lovely.”
“Yes, I think so. And unusually bright. It’s amazing, isn’t it? The way they’re able to sneak into your heart. I have to admit I was completely unprepared for the power she had over me from the moment she was born.”
“I am surprised that you let her come in here.”
Madred seems genuinely confused. “Why?”
“To expose a child to—this. To someone who is suffering. To see that it’s you who inflict that suffering.”
“From the time Jelora could crawl, she’s been taught about the enemies of the Cardassians and that enemies deserve their fate.”
“When children learn to devalue others, they can devalue anyone—including their parents.”
He rises and walks toward me. “What a blind, narrow view you have. What an arrogant man you are.”
I took my place on the bridge, ignoring the look of concern from my first officer as I sat next to him.
“Report,” I said.
“We’re approaching the rendezvous point,” Will said.
Data added, “Sensors are picking up the B’Orzoq at the designated coordinates.”
“Slow to impulse,” I told Perim.
“Aye, sir,” the Trill said.
Moments later, the stars on the main viewer that had been streaking by from the warp effect settled once again into single points in space. Data put the B’Orzoq on the viewer. It didn’t follow the avian design that the Klingon military favored, but the empire’s trefoil emblem was prominent on its hull.
“Hail the B’Orzoq, Mister Daniels,” I said.
Moments later, a squat Klingon face appeared on the viewer. “You are Picard of the Enterprise?”
“I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard, yes.”
“I was told it would be you. My name is Grantor, of the House of Klarat, and I bear news of value to the war effort. The Dominion is constructing a large military base on the Cardassian world of Raknal V. It will include a weapons production plant, a Jem’Hadar base, and a ketracel-white facility.”
Will and I exchanged glances. He seemed dubious, and I felt much the same. “How have they accomplished this in secret?” I asked.
“They’ve masked their movements to the planet by traveling through the Betreka Nebula.”
“What is the source of your intelligence?”
“Many turns ago, Cardassians and Klingons both lived on Raknal V, before the empire ceded the world to those spoon-headed petaQpu’. Even after that, however, some Klingons remained on that world. One of them is a member of the House of Klarat.”
“And you trust this family member?” I asked. Normally, I would not insult a Klingon by even asking, but these were treacherous times, and besides, this was a civilian, not a warrior.
Grantor broke into a wide smile at the question. “He owes me twelve bricks of latinum, so the toDSaH damn well better be telling me the truth.”
Definitely not a warrior, I thought.
He went on: “I have images that he took of the construction, which I will gladly share.”
From behind me, Daniels said, “Receiving file now, sir.”
I nodded briefly to the tactical officer, then said, “On behalf of the allies, Grantor, I thank you for your intelligence.”