Creek Johnson and Nance Hurt
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Disclaimer: We are but fleas on the elephants' posterior that is Paramount. No infringement on their rights is intended. We hope none is taken.
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High in the night sky, the five moons of Bajor shown down upon the snow-covered landscape, Odo stood in the cold night air and gazed up at the sky the porch light casting his shadow out before him. He was close to an answer, he thought wearily, if he could only make sense out it all. With a sigh, he turned and entered the cabin. A single light burned in the downstairs window, the rest of the cabin was in darkness. Locking the door behind him, he quietly made his way upstairs careful not to wake Kira. He need not have bothered, for as soon as he reached the landing, he heard her call out to him that she was still awake. Opening the bedroom door he found her sitting up in bed reading.
"Thought that might be you," she remarked sliding her phaser pistol back under her pillow. "So, how was the Funeral?"
"Well attended," he remarked crossing to her side of the bed and leaning over her to plant a kiss on her forehead. "Everyone was there as I had hoped."
"Well, have a seat and tell me about it."
He perched on the edge of the bed facing her and, taking one of her hands in his, he gave it a fond squeeze. "I'd much rather hear about your day," he said.
"Not much to tell. Jake and I spent the day at Military Headquarters. It turns out that most likely Sarah was transported off the Sisko property sometime in the night or early hours of the morning. Where exactly she was taken, we still don't know, but we do know that at 09:25 a young university student by the name of Silur Ang arrived in Kendra, by way of Musilla, and she arrived with a baby. Authorities in Musilla confirm that Silur Ang did not have any children. A man meets her at the Terminal and five minutes later she goes into the waste management facility nearest the building entrance and is never seen alive again."
"And the baby?" asked Odo.
"Still with the man. Now this is where it gets interesting. A little earlier, a second university student enters the Terminal and goes straight to the waste management facility. She exits the facility shortly after Silur Ang enters, greets the man who was waiting for Silur Ang, takes the baby from his arms and the three of them transport to Hedrikspool Province. I left Dhek and her people trying to find out where they went from there. Now, the only thing that links Sarah Sisko to all this business is that the second woman, the one who leaves with the child, knows Jake Sisko. As a matter of fact, she has been assisting him with some research for a book Jake is thinking about writing. All the details are here." She handed him the padd she was reading.
"So they pulled a switch," mused Odo as he paged through the report.
"Most likely more than one," agreed Kira tucking one arm behind her head. "Sarah Sisko could be anywhere by now. There's no telling if she's even still on Bajor."
"I think it's safe to say she's still here," replied Odo absently. "Most likely somewhere quite close."
"What makes you say that?" She reached up with her free hand and fondly brushed a stray hair back into place behind his ear.
"Something I found out in the Capital. I suspect that, like the bomb, all this transporting from one end of the planet to the other is just a way of keeping the authorities occupied while other plans are being carried out."
"What plans?"
"I still don't know," he confessed not taking his eyes off the report. "Tell me about this organization called the Children of Anjohl?"
"Some student's group Silur Ang belonged to," replied Kira idly tracing the outline of his ear with her finger. "No one seems to know much about it. Why? Do you think it's important?"
"It may be. Young Temis said that Nokis Orr mentioned something about someone whose name could have been Anholt or something like it. Anjohl certainly sounds somewhat similar to Anholt."
"Okay," said Kira plucking the report from Odo's hand and sliding it under the covers. "Out with it. Exactly what happened in the Capital?"
She listened attentively as he told her of the events of the day. "When the heavens are in harmonious agreement," she said. "It sounds vaguely familiar, but if Jeck couldn't put his finger on the passage, I doubt I can. And you think all this is somehow tied in with the Lunar Convergence?"
"I think it must," replied Odo. "Which mean that whatever is going to happen, it will most likely happen within the next 26 hours."
"Which is why you think Sarah Sisko is still on Bajor. And if time weren't of the essence why else would Nokis Orr have arranged for the messages to be sent should anything happen to him?"
"That is exactly what I was thinking." He fell silent for a moment frustration radiating off him. "The evidence is all here," he said eventually. "If we could only figure out how Sarah Sisko fit into the whole picture..."
"We could complete the circle," muttered Kira.
"What?"
"Complete the circle. It's in one of the lines sent to the others and you said the being, or hologram or whatever it is, you heard it say: complete the circle. If we only knew what circle we might be able to figure the rest out."
"I suspect you are right," he said with a sigh. "Now, if you will return the report, please, I'll go downstars and finish reading it so as not to disturb you."
"I think," replied Kira pulling him into an embrace. "That you are tired and that you should sleep on it for awhile."
"Nerys," he said half-heartedly trying to escape her embrace. "The padd please?"
"I seem to have lost it," she replied teasingly. "Sure you wouldn't like to help me find it?"
"As flattering as the offer may be," he replied pulling her into his arms and returning her kiss with one as equally inviting. "I'm afraid I haven't time to oblige you." He gently lowered her back onto the bed and stood waiving the padd at her like a prize. He leaned over her and pressed his lips to hers. "Sleep tight."
"Odo," she replied her voice suddenly very serious and Odo was somewhat taken aback to find her arms locked fiercely around him. "I don't know why, but I have a very bad feeling about all this."
"I know," he said soothingly. "So do I. But as you say there's nothing we can do about it right now. Try and get some sleep. I won't be long, I promise. I just need to brood for awhile."
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"This is stupid," said D. McKinley and was slightly surprised to see the wounded look on the Lurian's face. "I'm sorry," he quickly muttered by way of apology. Morn merely shrugged and continued on with his story. Quark's was packed near to capacity with visitors to the Station and he had been standing near the end of the bar for what seemed like hours hoping to get near enough to the Ferengi bartender to get his hands on the images Quark had taken earlier in the day and all he had managed were a few clumsy attempts to lift the padd from it's hiding place inside Quark's jacket. Quark, in the meantime, oblivious to McKinley's intent, continued to try and view the images in between serving an ever-growing number of demands on his time. Not that he minded, latinum in the hand was a much more pressing matter than spying on the mysterious Mr. Blankman. However, he was starting to get more than a little annoyed with continuously bumping into D. McKinley every time he tried to move away from behind the bar.
Starfleet, thought Quark, picking up the last bottle of spring wine and examining its contents. Judging there to be only two more servings left, he reached for a fresh supply only to find none available. He made a quick inventory of the other bottles on display and realized he would have to make a trip to the storeroom before too much longer. Good, he thought, it would give him a moment to put his feet up. Waiving one of the waiters over to cover for him, Quark edged his way past McKinley.
"Commander," he said having bumped into McKinley enough for one evening. "Would you please find somewhere else to stand?"
"Sorry," muttered the officer refusing to look Quark in the eye but moving away as requested.
"Now there's an odd one," said Quark leaning toward Morn and giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Humans."
Empty handed, McKinley sat at the bar and, with a sigh, ordered a double scotch. It was going to be a long night.
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"I fail so see why this matter is of any importance to the Federation," said the Cardassian Police Prefect. John Marshall leaned back in his chair prepared for what was undoubtedly going to be a long conversation. Cardasians did love to hear themselves talk, he thought, and this one was no exception. "The death of a university student in a botched robbery attempt," continued the Cardassian. "Hardly falls within your jurisdiction, Commander, even if the student was Bajoran. Unless, of course, there is something you aren't telling me?" "No doubt you are aware, Captain Nupt, that I also serve as Chief of Security for the Station," corrected Marshall. "And as the leading law enforcement officer in this sector of Bajoran space, jurisdictional issues aside, the death of a Bajoran attracts my attention - especially when the Bajoran student in question was surgically altered to look like a Cardassian. Does that not strike you as strange? I, for one, find the concept fascinating."
"Then you don't know Bajorans well at all do you?" scoffed Nupt a note of condescension creeping into his voice. "Bajorans are an odd lot, one could almost say obsessive, when it comes to most things."
"Are they?" Marshall smiled to himself, glad that Flato Rey was long off duty - he could only imagine what her reaction would be to being psychoanalyzed by Nupt. "It was my understanding…"
"Doubtless," continued Nupt dismissing Marshall's interruption. "You have heard the standard Bajoran protestations about how cruel and barbaric the so called 'Cardassian Occupation' of Bajor was. How they brought art and architecture to countless civilizations, completely failing to note the significant contributions Cardassian culture brought to them…"
"As much as I find the socio-cultural ramifications of the Cardassian Annexation of Bajor a fascinating topic of debate," interrupted Marshall. "I fail to see exactly what this has to do with the matter at hand."
"My point, Commander," continued Nupt somewhat mollified by what he considered to be the appropriate term for sixty years of Bajoran servitude. "Is that you find it strange that a Bajoran would willingly be altered to look like a Cardassian, whereas I do not. Who knows why she did it? Perhaps she was interested in studying Cardassian culture from the viewpoint of an insider. Perhaps it was some type of university prank. Perhaps she, in some way, identified more psychologically with Cardassians than Bajorans. Who know? It is not a criminal act to change your appearance and, quite frankly Commander, her death has caused enough problems without me having to waste any more time and resources trying to understand what was going on in the mind of a silly little Bajoran woman."
"There is another possibility," suggested Marshall. "For why a…silly…Bajoran woman would change her appearance. I understand your people are currently in the possession of the remains of Oren Stephos."
"There is something you're not telling me," replied Nupt with a sly grin. "I thought as much."
"Not really. Dr. Bashir and I are colleagues after all."
"So, you think this Huna Chin might have been a courier of some sort for the Orion Syndicate?" asked Nupt. "Do you have any evidence to support such an accusation?"
"Not at present," replied Marshall. "But if you could see your way to sharing what information you have on Miss Huna, I may be able to come up with a connection." Marshall thought for a moment that Nupt was going to refuse. Cardassians were a prideful people after all. "Think of it as a favor," he suggested. "From one law enforcement official to another."
"Put that way," remarked Nupt. "How can I refuse?"
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Quark made his way to the storeroom glad to have a moments peace. Although he was looking forward to counting the day's earnings, he had to admit to himself that the long days he had been putting in were a bit wearing. As loathe as he was to admit it, things just weren't the same without Odo lurking around the bar all the time and he was finding life these days was just a bit less interesting. Although, he thought, the puzzle of Jack Blankman had brought a bit of the old excitement back. Blankman. He was reminded of the images he had taken earlier in the day and automatically reached for the padd tucked safely away in his jacket. It had been hours since he had downloaded the images and now was as good a time as any to take a look at what he had captured. He idly thumbed through them as he unlocked the storeroom. The clearest shot was of Jack standing behind the desk in the reception area, the Cardassian standing across from him. It looked as though they were arguing about something. Well, nothing unusual there, humans loved to argue, as did Cardassians. The next shot was almost exactly the same with a slight exception.
Quark stood in the doorway and looked again squinting in the half-light of the storeroom. There was something different about the image. He stepped back out and moved slightly away from the storeroom into a spot with better light. Yes, he thought, something not quite right. He moved on to the next shot and there…just to the left of the Cardassian there appeared to be a small arm reaching out. Quickly enhancing the picture, he saw it more clearly. There was a child in the office with the two men. A child? Whose child? Shaking his head, Quark tucked the padd back into his jacket. He would have to go over the images again after he closed the bar. Muttering to himself, he crossed back to the storeroom and entered ordering the lights to maximum.
He had just closed the door behind him when he became aware he was not alone. Before he had a chance to back out or call for assistance, a small, rather rodent featured human stepped out from behind a case of ale. Quark turned to flee only to find his path of escape blocked by a rather down at the heels looking Cardassian.
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"Nerys?" "Ummh?"
"I need to ask you something."
"What?" she panted somewhat impatiently. "I love what you're doing, just keep doing it."
"Nerys."
"Yes?" She pulled his head back down towards her breast.
"Tell me," he replied his voice muffled against her exposed flesh. "What you know about Winn Adami's disappearance."
"What?" She sat up abruptly and quickly rearranged her pajamas. "You certainly know how to kill a mood."
"I'm sorry," Odo apologized lying down on the bed next to her. "It's just that I think it's important."
"It had better be. I'd hate to think you made a habit of thinking about Winn Adami while making love to me."
"Please?"
She studied his face and realized he did indeed think it was important. "All right," she said pushing her hair off her forehead. "What do you need to know?"
"Everyone in the Capital referred to her as the Heretic Winn. How did that come about?"
"You don't remember?" she asked and then realized the answer. "Of course, you wouldn't. It all happened while I was taking you back…" she left the thought unfinished. Where to begin? "You remember the search for Captain Sisko?"
"Vividly."
"Then you also remember that Winn disappeared at the same time…"
"And that some of her clothing was found in the Fire Caves as well as traces of her DNA," agreed Odo. "But I fail to see why that in and of itself would lead anyone to label her a heretic."
"It didn't," Kira assured him. "As you know no physical remains were ever discovered in the Fire Caves. Following a visitation from the Prophets, Kasidy Sisko called off the search, and it was assumed that Winn had either fled Bajor or was consumed by fire in the same manner as the Emissary."
"Go on."
"What you don't know is that shortly after we left for the Gamma Quadrant, the Vedek Assembly declared Winn had abandoned her station as Kai and set out to elect her replacement."
"I-ko Nye."
"Exactly. Well, while the Vedek Assembly was meeting, workers at the palace discovered a freshly dug grave in one of the back gardens."
"A grave?" asked Odo sitting up. "Whose?"
"Solibor Otis. He had been murdered and in the grave along with the body was the murder weapon - a small dagger with Winn's prints all over it. On closer examination, traces of Solibor's blood were found all over her office and on some of her clothing."
"Why would Winn kill her personal secretary?"
"We will most likely never find out why," replied Kira. "All anyone knows is that in the days leading up to the murder and her subsequent disappearance, Winn had locked herself away in her rooms and refused to see anyone. Authorities found in her journals repeated mention of a mysterious man she only refers to as The Light. Who he is or was no one knows."
"Or perhaps Solibor knew," commented Odo.
"Perhaps. But all references to this man end a couple of days before her disappearance. Her final entries were all nonsense about how the Prophets had abandoned her. She was clearly insane by then, but insane or not, she was a murderer and that's why the Vedek Assembly branded her a heretic."
"But why destroy the palace?"
"That was unfortunate," agreed Kira. "But you have to understand emotions were running rather high. The War had ended but Bajor had lost the Emissary in the process, a lot of people blamed Winn for that. Bajor was without a Kai, and they blamed Winn for abandoning them as well. Then when news of Solibor's murder became public, it just all boiled over. A crowd had formed and the palace ransacked and set on fire before the Provisional Government could restore order."
"Was nothing saved?"
"The library, and some of the more important icons and relics, but that was about all. Why?"
"I-ko said that on the night Winn disappeared, she took something of his with her," replied Odo turning to face her. "Something that Nokis Orr was looking to find for him."
"Did he say what?"
"No. But he said I would recognize it when I saw it."
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"Take what you want," said Quark nervously edging away from the two strangers. "As a matter of fact take it all." "He thinks were here to rob him," commented the human, leaning casually leaning against a crate.
"Aren't you?" asked Quark.
"If we were here to rob you, we'd hardly need your permission now would we?" replied the Cardassian leaning against the storeroom door with the air of a man who intends to stay. "Isn't that right Mr. Jones?"
"Then why are you here? Although something tells me I don't want to know the answer to that question."
"We're here to ask a favor, aren't we Mr. Arat?" replied the one called Jones.
"A favor?" replied Quark still not convinced he was out of danger. "And why would I do the two of you any favors?"
"It's not for us," replied the Cardassian, the one the human called Arat. "It's for our employers."
Quark didn't need to ask who their employers were. It was written in large letters all over them. "You know I don't do business with the Orion Syndicate," he said.
"We know," replied Jones. "But we also know you owe us a favor and we're here to collect."
"Owe you a favor?"
"For that little business of the grand jury on Inferma Prime," Arat reminded him.
"For which you tried to kill me," said Quark.
"But," replied Jones, waving a cautionary finger at him. "We didn't try again now did we?"
"And if we really wanted you dead," suggested Arat.
"I'd be dead," concluded Quark. They were right. The Orion Syndicate seldom left unfinished business unfinished for long. He had always supposed that as far as the Orions were concerned he was too small a fish to pursue. That was, until now. "Point taken," he conceded. "Exactly what is the nature of this favor?"
"We want information," said Jones. "Mr. Arat and I are looking for a Cardassian who arrived on the Station this morning. We want to know where he is."
"Is that all?" asked Quark relieved. "Why don't you just look him up on the Station's directory? Any computer can tell you if someone is on the Station or not."
"We don't know his name," confessed Arat. "But he's about average height, thin…"
"That describes just about every Cardassian since the end of the war," scoffed Quark and immediately wished he had kept his mouth shut after he caught the look Arat gave him. "Sensitive subject," he said quickly trying to cover the offense. "Look, gentlemen, how do you expect me to find someone with only a vague description like that? You've seen how busy the Station is, do you at least have a picture?"
"Show him," ordered Jones.
Arat stepped forward and offered Quark a padd. Displayed on the viewer was a grainy image of a man he quickly identified as the Cardassian who was in his bar earlier in the day. The same Cardassian Jack Blankman had hauled out and taken to his office. His heart raced, what possible business could Blankman have with someone wanted by the Orion Syndicate? And did Odo know the man he left in charge of the Centurion Corporation was involved with someone involved with the Orion Syndicate? There was much more here than met the eye and Quark realized he needed to stall for as much time as possible in order to sort it out to his advantage. "Never saw him," he said dismissively. "I get a lot of Cardassians in these days and I've not seen this one."
"Are you sure?" asked Jones. "This one has a child with him."
"A child?" Quark unconsciously fingered the edge of his jacket where the padd lay barely concealed. "No children. Hate them personally, don't allow them in the bar. Sorry, can't help you."
"He thinks he has a choice," remarked Arat.
"Don't I?"
"No," replied Jones. "You have access to more of the Station than we do. You can ask questions without arousing suspicion. Find him, we don't care how."
"I see," replied Quark. "And if I do see this person, how can I get in touch with you?"
He did not fail to notice the look that passed between the two. After a moments panic, he was relieved to see Jones nod slightly as he stood. Arat moved away from the door and held it open.
"You don't contact us," said Jones as he drew even with Quark. "We'll contact you."
"I'm sure you will," replied Quark never taking his eyes off them.
"One other thing," cautioned Jones as he stood in the doorway. "You have less than 26 hours in which find this Cardassian, or we'll come after you instead."
"I see," muttered Quark as the door slid shut leaving him once again alone in the storeroom. "I see only too well."
"Well, Mr. Jones?" asked Arat as they stood outside the storeroom.
"He's lying, Mr. Arat," remarked Jones.
"Of course he is, he's a Ferengi after all. Probably going to contact the fellow and try to blackmail him."
"Most likely," agreed Jones. "Keep an eye on him. But what I'm wondering is what was so important about that padd Quark has tucked away in his jacket?"
Arat wiggled his fingers in the air as though warming them up. "Let's find out shall we?"
With a nod of approval from Jones they made their way back to the bar.
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John Marshall sat in his office and reviewed the file on the late Huna Chin. On the surface it all seemed straightforward enough. She arrives on Cardassian Prime with her child. Waiting for her is a man and they start to leave together. Shortly thereafter, two men approach them, a scuffle ensues, and shots are fired. When the dust settles both Huna Chin and her escort are dead. He could easily see how Nupt would assume it was a case of a robbery gone terribly wrong. However, from Marshall's viewpoint there were too many unanswered questions. Why was Huna Chin there in the first place? Who was the man who met her on arrival and what relationship did he have with Huna? But more importantly, why rob someone in the middle of a busy public place and not wait until they were outside the building?
It was clear some of the same questions had occurred to Nupt. As to why Huna Chin was on Cardassia in the first place, Nupt freely confessed he had no real interest in pursuing an answer. The answer to the question of who the man was who had met her was in the file. He too was a student but at a Cardassian university rather than a Bajoran one and his field of study was engineering. Marshall wondered what field of study Huna Chin had been pursuing? Engineering perhaps? That would go some way towards explaining how she knew the man on Cardassia and why she would travel there in the first place.
That still left the question of why they were killed. In Marshall's long experience, he seldom came across a criminal who was daring enough to attempt an armed robbery in such a public place. It made more sense to simply follow the couple out of the building and wait to rob them in a more secluded spot. No, thought Marshall, the robbery angle didn't add up. A woman with a child was an easy target for a pickpocket, or the less elegant baggage snatcher, but an armed robbery? He found the very idea highly unlikely, especially in light of the fact that Cardassian authorities had found Huna Chin's one piece of luggage on the scene, untouched by the would be robbers.
So, thought Marshall, what was the point? What could Huna Chin possibly possess that would make two criminals pick her, out everyone else in the transport terminal, as the one to rob? What was the one thing they wanted? Logically, the answer would be the one thing she no longer had in her possession at the time of her death, but what that was, who knew? Marshall shook his head at the realization they most likely would never know.
He idly paged through the rest of the report. The Cardassians had no suspects in custody and their only leads were two men, names unknown. He looked at the grainy pictures attached to the report. One man was a Terran with rather rodent like features, the other a Cardassian. They looked vaguely familiar to Marshall in the way that all criminals tended to look vaguely familiar, but he could not immediately place them.
Oh well, he thought, picking up the report and standing. It would come to him eventually, it always did.
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Later, when asked, D. McKinley was hard pressed to say exactly what happened that night in Quarks. He waited, hovering near the door, for Quark to return from the storeroom. If he had seen the two rather seedy looking individuals enter the bar, he did not remember them. All he remembered was walking forward as Quark entered the doorway, his intention was to casually bump into Quark and retrieve the padd and continue out the door as quickly as possible. Spying his chance, he strolled toward the bartender. He was just within reaching distance when he felt someone shove him in the small of the back. He never saw who pushed him; all he was aware of was the feeling of falling forward into the arms of a startled Quark, struggling to regain his feet and failing, and the startled realization that their combined weight was sending both of them crashing to the floor. His face burning with embarrassment, he apologized profusely as helping hands reached out to lift both men to their feet.
If he noticed the two rather seedy looking individuals standing right behind Quark he did not remember. Nor did he see them leave the bar and disappear onto the Promenade. All he knew was that he had been made a fool of and the evening would hold no other opportunity for him to get a look at those images.
He dusted himself off and made his weary way home to his bed.
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"Odo?" "Ummh?"
"I just thought of something."
"That's funny, so have I," he remarked distractedly, his voice muffled by the bedclothes.
"Odo."
"Yes?"
"It's just that in some of the older Bajoran dialects," she said pulling the sheets back to expose his head. "The name Anjohl means beacon, or more accurately, the light."
"Talk about killing a mood…" he said replied without any rancor in his voice. "I certainly hope you don't make a habit of translating Bajoran dialects while making love to me."
"It's important," she said. "Doesn't it seem likely to you that the Children of Anjohl…?"
"Are the same as the Children of the Light…"