War Stories (Book 1) - Keith R.A. DeCandido [15]
“If they had, we’d have found it weeks ago,” Phrebington said, “and I’d be back on Gnala where it’s safe.”
Bart smiled a small smile. “If you give Janíce a chance, I’m sure she’ll elaborate.”
Kerasus smiled right back. “Thank you, Bartholomew.” Bart generally hated being called by his full first name, but he couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed when Kerasus did it. “My point is that it can’t be anything relating to the Founders or the Vorta in any case, because their actual language is too simplistic. The Founders didn’t even have a concept of vocal speech until they encountered solids. They communicate with each other through that Great Link of theirs, and only use a very basic spoken language—it’s the one they programmed into the Vorta and the Jem’Hadar as well. It makes them very easy to translate, which can be useful in diplomatic circumstances, though it makes for wretched poetry.”
Bart laughed. So did Novac and Throckmorton and Anthony. Phrebington didn’t. (Neither did T’Lura, but that was to be expected.)
“In any event,” Kerasus said, “that would explain why they haven’t used a purely linguistic base for their codes prior to this. The people running this war have only the simplest of linguistics to go on. It makes sense that only now, when we’ve done such a fine job of breaking through their codes, that they’re trying more esoteric methods.” The old woman’s breathing became more labored as she finished. “If we’re going to try this solution, we—we need to look to another—another member of the Dominion.”
“Hadn’t we already established that?” Phrebington asked snidely.
Anthony, meanwhile, walked over to where Kerasus was sitting. “Are you all right?”
She nodded quickly. “Yes, I’m fine. Just a bit—a bit too much there.”
“As I suspected,” Phrebington said, “talking too much will get the best of her.”
Bart sighed. “The problem is, we don’t have any kind of cultural database on the Dominion member worlds. We can try to compare it to the ones we do have some records on from trips that ships made to the Gamma Quadrant, but I can’t imagine they’d have used anyone that was visited by an allied ship in the past.”
“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t investigate those languages,” Novac said.
“Just to rule it out,” Throckmorton added.
Nodding, Bart said, “You two handle that, then. I think Deep Space 9 has complete records of all the Gamma Quadrant worlds that have been visited since the wormhole was discovered.”
“It’s a waste of time.” Phrebington started to walk toward the door. “This is an utter waste of time.”
Anthony moved to block the door. “You haven’t been dismissed yet, Mr. Phrebington.”
“Commander, it’s late, I’m tired, and I’m not in the mood for tiresome—”
“I’m not terribly interested in what you’re ‘in the mood for,’ Mr. Phrebington.” Anthony spoke in a moderate tone, the picture of calm. “We’ve all got a job to do here, and it’s an important one. Lives depend on what this team accomplishes here. And by putting that uniform on, you have already committed to doing whatever is necessary to keep those lost lives to a minimum. So what you’re in the mood for really doesn’t enter into it. Now, you’re not leaving until Mr. Faulwell or I dismiss you. Is that clear, Mr. Phrebington?”
In direct contrast to the barking tones with which DuVall had asked that last question three weeks earlier, Anthony was downright conversational, giving the words no more weight than if he were asking Phrebington for a cup of coffee. Yet it was much more effective, as the Gnalish turned tail (literally) and went back to where he’d been standing against the bulkhead.
“There is a possibility we have not considered,” T’Lura said.
“What’s that?” Bart asked, grateful to the Vulcan woman for changing the subject—or, rather, getting back to the original subject.
“It is true that the Federation has had comparatively limited contact with the Dominion, and that Romulan and Klingon contact has been even less. However, there are other nations in the Alpha Quadrant.”