Fables of the Prime Directive Page 5

  Before Carol could correct Vinx—she didn’t mind being addressed with an honorific representing her doctorate, but “Doc” made it feel like she was horning in on Lense’s territory—Corsi came up behind them.

  “Lauoc found another mangled body. The mission’s in danger.”

  Chapter

  6

  “The replicators are online,” announced Ensign Hj’olla with a slight hint of satisfaction in her tone. “Would you like to test it, Fabian?”

  Thank goodness for that, thought Stevens, allowing himself a small grin. No more field rations, and not a moment too soon. Only the hated roast beef and blue-berry pie packs were left after four days on the surface without replicator technology, and by unspoken agreement the remaining party seemed to have decided that starvation was the preferable option. He threw his caution concerning the ensign’s flirtatious behavior to the winds. “I certainly would, Ensign.” He laced his hands together and stretched his arms out, cracking his fingers. “A cup of Colombian coffee, two creams, one sugar. Warm.”

  With a welcome hum, the cup materialized, and Stevens gingerly took it to his lips. “Smells about right.” He took a tentative sip. “Tastes about perfect. Good job, Hj’olla.”

  The Tiburonian woman blushed, resembling the northern oceans of Rigel in a storm.

  Better stop that line of thinking. He and Corsi had a good thing going—he wasn’t sure what kind of a thing it was, but it was a thing nonetheless, and he didn’t want to mess it up.

  Hj’olla smiled and placed her fingers lightly on his arm, the one holding the coffee. He almost jumped and spilled the precious brew.

  “Corsi to Stevens.”

  This time, Stevens did jump. Scowling at his own case of nerves, he tapped his combadge. “Stevens, Commander. What’s up?”

  “We’ve found another body, exhibiting signs of being mauled. It’s been dragged a fair ways.”

  “An animal of some kind?” T’Mandra’s searches hadn’t revealed any further sign of their mysterious humanoid prowler, or any hint of dangerous animals. The area around Baldakor had been settled for a long time, and the wilderness was hardly wild at all.

  “Uncertain, but I don’t think so. We’re staying out for a while, see if we can track it.”

  Fabian frowned. “It’s your call, obviously, but I don’t know if you should be interfering. Animal or not, local maulings aren’t our business.”

  “Abramowitz suspects this one is our business.” Silence, long enough that Fabian wondered if he was supposed to respond somehow. I’m just enlisted personnel; I don’t have opinions. Stevens felt a chill as Corsi’s uncharacteristically dramatic pause lengthened. When she finally spoke, her statement caused his stomach to drop. “She thinks it’s a Jem’Hadar.”

  The body was Corotican, dressed in the robes of a Sibling. The woman’s eyes stared upward, her final look of terror etched forever into her expressive features. Bluish blood covered her face, streaked through her hair, spattered throughout the small clearing. The amount of gore was not surprising, given the way whatever did this had pounded through the chest cavity to find and remove the organs within: heart, lungs, liver.

  A trail of blood on matted grass showed where the body had been dragged from the remains of the Ajjem-kuyr road to the north.

  “Is your sister going to be all right?” asked Jarolleka, his hands folded before him, glancing back at Carol, who continued to dry-heave under a shrub.

  “She’ll be fine. She was just startled.” Corsi looked into the Corotican’s eyes. “Are there any local animals that operate like this?”

  Jarolleka shrugged. “Natural history was never my specialty, but no. I don’t think so. The only predator large enough to attack a Corotican is a hill vajell, and it hunts in packs. There’d be nothing left of the body.”

  “Unless we startled them when we arrived, see?” drawled Vinx.

  The Corotican shook his head, his eyes never leaving Corsi as she examined the body in situ. “There’d be other signs of their presence. Ask your…sister. She can confirm that.”

  Corsi glanced up sharply. Was the man starting to suspect that her “family” wasn’t what it appeared to be? Control your stomach and get back here, Carol.

  Lauoc appeared at her shoulder, keeping his voice low. “This can’t be a Jem’Hadar. None of them could survive this long without ketracel white. The footprints I found at the observation post were inconclusive, but probably not large enough to be a Jem’Hadar.”

  “The prints might be unrelated. Commander Johal thought they could be native. Besides, it’s not unknown for the rare Jem’Hadar to be born without a need for white. Dr. Bashir from Deep Space 9 encountered one a few years back, and Taran’atar, that guy the Dominion sent to observe on DS9, doesn’t need it, either.”

  Abramowitz was getting to her feet now, wiping at her lips. She glanced at the group, and Corsi immediately saw how pale she looked. It was gruesome, she thought, but Abramowitz was bravely making her way back to the bloody scene, albeit shakily.

  Jarolleka stepped back as she passed, and slowly made his way to the edges of the field. Corsi wondered about his behavior, but it was fortunately timed; now the Starfleet party could talk without fear of contaminating the local culture further.

  Vinx moved in to share his thoughts. “Ya think it’s a Jem’Hadar mug, yeah? I think you’re right, doll.”

  Corsi narrowed her eyes.

  Vinx grinned in embarrassment and corrected himself. “What I mean is, I concur, Commander.”

  Lauoc shook his head and met Carol’s eyes. “I’m not convinced. You said the locals felt completely abandoned by their new gods. Surely someone would have seen a Jem’Hadar and reported back to the village?”

  “Maybe they did see one,” said Vinx, nodding with his chin toward the decaying corpse. “Maybe seeing one was too hot for them, capisce?”

  “Don’t say ‘capisce’,” muttered Lauoc.

  “What other possibilities would you suggest, Lauoc?” Corsi stood to her full height between the two men, eager to sidetrack any diversionary conversation of the type that seemed to constantly infect the da Vinci crew.

  “A local, something completely unrelated to either the Federation or the Dominion. Or a religious ceremony, meant to call back the gods through sacrifice.” He ran a hand through his short hair. “Is it possible that we’ve got a changeling?”

  Corsi thought for a moment. “I hope not.”

  “I doubt it,” added Abramowitz. “Think about it. If there was a Founder here, I suspect we’d have seen or heard evidence of more than one god appearing to the locals, not just Ushpallar. Further, we’ve seen evidence that the locals are replacing artwork that depicts Ushpallar, which implies that the god appeared at least marginally different than they expected. A Founder would have just taken the most appropriate and expected form.”

  Corsi nodded. “Makes sense.”

  “There’s one final possibility, but you aren’t going to like it, Commander.” Lauoc scuffed the ground with his boot nervously.

  “Try me.”

  The Bajoran looked off into the distance. “Starfleet potentially has a man missing down here. Stevens couldn’t find any sign, even at the molecular level, of Lieutenant Squire, last man at the observation post prior to its destruction.”

  Vinx whistled, low and nervous. “That’d mean he’d gone kinda wacko.”

  Corsi tried to fight the headache, tucking an errant strand of ash-blond hair behind her ear. “Near death, isolation, and possibly eluding Jem’Hadar soldiers every day for two years. Sounds like a recipe for wacko to me too, Vinx.”

  Chapter

  7

  The party had been hiking for the better part of the day, Lauoc ranging widely for hours at a time. Jarolleka had kept his distance as well, rarely speaking to anyone other than Vinx, and averting his gaze whenever one of the women spoke to him. He was never outright rude, but Carol’s attempts to ascertain what was wrong went unfulfilled. Neither
Corsi nor Carol were terribly happy that he had decided to accompany them, but they seemed unable to ditch him short of knocking him out; given the local situation and his obvious lack of friends, that might well have been a death sentence. Carol assumed that, after seeing his town destroyed by a Dominion weapon, seeing a Jem’Hadar base wouldn’t do any further harm. It could always be explained, or his memory erased.

  Now they had found a small farm in a forest clearing. One of Dyrvelkada’s humble hovels, thought Carol, suddenly eager to visit a Corotican after days in the wilderness. Without a second thought, she began trudging toward the small wooden building with its tiny three fields carved out of the woods.

  “Wait, Carol.” Corsi held up her tricorder. “I’m not reading any life signs. Vinx?”

  The Iotian checked his own tricorder. “She’s as empty as a speakeasy after the cops’ve raided, sir.”

  Corsi sighed, turning her attention back to the cultural specialist. “There isn’t even any livestock. I think its been abandoned.”

  Carol suppressed a mild feeling of disappointment. “Well,” she said finally. “I can still learn a great deal from firsthand observation of whatever’s left.”

  “Could be trouble with that killer around,” growled Vinx softly.

  “I agree,” Corsi replied, “but we both determined that the coast was clear.” She raised her voice again. “Okay, Carol, go ahead. Vinx, do recon and then wait for Lauoc to return.”

  She jogged toward Carol, catching up without any visible loss of breath. Her professional eye took in a wealth of details related to the safety of the party, even as she knew Carol was collecting a similar amount of information related to the planet’s culture.

  Corsi’s eyes narrowed. “The door’s off its hinges.” She drew her phaser with one hand while stepping forward and halting Abramowitz with her other arm. “Wait here.”

  She stepped forward into a single room, noticing the lack of decoration. There was a single wooden table and two chairs, a small cot, and shelves holding jugs and tableware. Some of this lay broken on the floor, signs of a struggle or an earthquake; it was impossible to say without more information. Whatever had happened, it had happened months ago at least. Everything was covered with a thick layer of dust.

  “Abramowitz to Corsi.”

  Corsi tapped her combadge. “Carol, you’ve got to give me time to check the situation before you start complaining. It’s hardly been two minutes.”

  “There’s something you should see out back.”

  She felt her headache coming back, and closed her eyes for a moment. “If you’re out back, I assume you didn’t obey my orders to wait.”

  Carol didn’t answer for a moment. “I really think you should see this.”

  The security chief kept her phaser ready while she left the building and jogged to Carol’s position behind the farmhouse, near to a large wooden structure that seemed to be a barn.

  Carol was standing with her arms crossed, staring at a rough mound of dirt covered with leafy green shrubs. “How many people do you think lived here?” she asked quietly.

  Corsi mulled the question briefly. “Two, three at most. If that mound is a grave, it would certainly be big enough.” She ran the tricorder over it. “And if I don’t miss my guess, the mound was dug out and filled back in just the once.”

  “Meaning everyone on the farm died at the same time.”

  “Why hasn’t anyone taken the farm for themselves? Land seems good, building structures are sound.”

  The wind began to whistle past the wooden buildings. Carol hugged her cloak closer to her body. “Unless their deaths were considered ill-omened,” she said. “They could be the victims of a disease, but we’ve discovered no signs of a plague. I’d guess they were murdered.”

  “Perhaps by an entity which at that time still had enough self-control to bury the remains.” Corsi was about to signal for Lauoc and Vinx to join them, when Lauoc contacted her.

  “I’ve found the Jem’Hadar base, Commander. It’s about two hours from your position.”

  “Wait there, we’ll join you.” She severed the link. “I think we might be getting closer to our killer.”

  They moved into the forest cautiously, Vinx on point, weapons hidden from Jarolleka. The Corotican had decided to move closer to the group now, after Vinx had explained that the mysterious killer was possibly nearby. Corsi walked behind Carol and Jarolleka, keeping an eye on the Corotican as much as on the dark woods. There was no reason to assume their strange companion wasn’t dangerous, perhaps even the very quarry they hunted.

  “Why have you been avoiding my sister and me?” asked Carol, trying to sound as unassuming as possible. Either woman might have inadvertently broken a cultural taboo at some point, something that governed relations between the Corotican genders. Still, she had been given very few opportunities to ask, and subtlety was not always an option. He had seemed less bound to local traditions than the other Coroticans they’d met, and more inclined to philosophy.

  He was silent for a few minutes, and Carol feared she’d lost him altogether. “You’re sick.”

  “What?” For a moment, Carol was confused, before she recalled Corsi’s allergies. “You mean Domenica’s sneezing? That’s an…that’s a reaction to something in the air. It’s not contagious.”

  Jarolleka scowled. “All disease can be spread, through the air or by touch. I would have separated from you, if we were not in danger of catching a bloodier death.”

  “I’m not ill, though,” replied Carol.

  “You vomited, when we found the mangled body.”

  Carol almost chuckled. “That was because I was…disturbed, by the body. It was a reaction, not an illness.”

  “Sick is sick,” he barked, and walked faster, trying to outpace her. Vinx turned and hissed at him, and Jarolleka reluctantly resumed his place in the formation.

  These people believe that everything can be spread like a cold or a flu, she realized. Even stress reactions. Carol suddenly recalled Corsi’s priest, who had said something about catching a disease from the first murdered victim. Could they actually believe that you could “catch” murder?

  “Jarolleka,” she asked slowly. “Are you worried that you’ll be killed by the murderer, simply because you were so close to the body?”

  He looked away. “It was one thing Ushpallar was right about.”

  After another awkward silence, she realized he wasn’t going to give her any more willingly. “About what?”

  “When Ushpallar told us about ‘disease’ and ‘germs,’ some at the Academy were thrilled. Ixardes had been arguing for tiny atoms invading the body and causing illness for decades! But when people angered the god, he would predict doom, or kill every one of ten. And sure enough, soon the nine would follow. Dead in their homes, and sometimes their families with them. Sometimes there was no sign of violence or disease at all. The people were just dead.” He turned back to her, and the anguish and confusion was written on his face. “This was ‘germs’ at work. Some force called ‘bacteria.’ What natural science did we have to face that? All one could do was cover one’s face when death passed, or avoid being on the same street as a dead man. That’s all anyone can do.” This time, when he began to march forward, Vinx looked ready to let him pass.

  “Look out!” shouted Corsi.

  A dark shape leapt from the trees, hammering Jarolleka to the ground in a flurry of leaves and noise. A limb shot up and caught Abramowitz under the chin, throwing her back into Corsi’s line of fire. Carol arched her back, arms flailing, as Corsi’s shot hit her in the shoulder.

  Vinx spun on his heel and lashed out with his right arm, but failed to connect with anything solid. The whirling shape, covered in filthy rags, threw itself forward. Something cracked against Vinx’s forehead, and he wobbled backward against a tree. Without a pause, the shape leapt into the thicket and crashed away.

  Checking that Jarolleka was still facedown on the ground, Corsi aimed her phaser toward
the noise and fired three times, aiming with five degrees of difference with each shot. She knew she’d hit nothing. “Vinx, are you up?”

  “We’ll put ’im in cement shoes if we got to,” said the Iotian unsteadily.

  “Damn.” Corsi knew she couldn’t leave Abramowitz alone with a potentially dangerous local and an addled security guard, and it was always possible that there was more than one killer, trying to trick the party into separating. She’d have to trust that Vinx would recover his wits while the trail was still warm. She glanced at Carol, who was sitting up and groaning.

  Concentrate on what you can do, she thought. “Carol, did your tricorder get any readings on what that was?”

  Abramowitz shook her head. “Not sure.” She quickly picked her tricorder up. “The radiation must still be interfering. This says that our attacker was a Gallamite. And it was too dark and the attack too quick to make it out visually.”

  Corsi rubbed the back of her neck. “It seemed too small for a Jem’Hadar.”

  “The mug seemed pretty big to me.” Vinx was rubbing his eyes and getting slowly to his feet.

  Carol got to her feet and pulled out a small flashlight. Taking Vinx’s head in her left hand, she shone the light into each of his eyes while he stood still and blinking. “No concussion, I think. You’ll be fine.”

  “Shake it off, soldier.” Corsi grinned. “I want to follow that trail. Vinx, get these two to the Jem’Hadar base.”

  “Aye, sir.” He watched as his commanding officer moved into the woods, following the attacker. After a moment, he turned to Carol and Jarolleka. “C’mon, guys and dolls, let’s motor.”

  Chapter

  8

  Corsi was following the trail as best she could, her tricorder all but useless in the radiation. Sometimes it would flash a warning that there was a Klingon ahead, or a Tiburonian, or on one exciting occasion, that there was an Andorian, a Tellarite, and a Vorta three kilometers to the west. That sounds like a very bad joke, mused Corsi.