The Art of the Impossible

A woman with black-and-white hair sat at a workstation right outside the door marked with the numeral 2552. The moment Entek entered, she looked up, then activated an intercom. “He’s arrived,” was all she said.

“Send him in.”

She looked up at Entek with a bland expression. “You may go in.”

Nodding his assent, Entek walked up to the door, which opened at his approach.

Inside was a simple, undecorated office, with a small wooden desk—real wood, as far as Entek could tell, or as good a fake as made no visual difference; expensive either way—and a viewscreen on the eastern wall that showed a view of a swirling nebula. Entek realized after a moment that it was, in fact, the Betreka Nebula. He wondered if that was a deliberate choice.

The desk’s occupant was turned facing the bookcase that lined the southern wall behind the desk. As the door closed behind Entek, the chair whirled around—

—and Entek was barely able to control his reaction when he realized that he was in the office of Enabran Tain.

Entek fully expected to spend many years serving Cardassia in the Obsidian Order without ever being in the same room as the Order’s head. To have his first field assignment debriefing be conducted by the Order’s leader meant—

In truth, Entek had no idea what it meant.

“Have a seat,” Tain said in a surprisingly pleasant voice. Entek had expected someone more—well, frightening to be occupying this office. But Tain was a pudgy, unassuming Cardassian wearing a simple green outfit. Entek doubted he’d even notice Tain walking down the street.

Belatedly, Entek realized that it was probably a deliberate choice on Tain’s part.

He followed Tain’s instruction and sat in one of the two guest chairs. “Would you like to read my report?” he asked.

“Very much so, yes,” Tain said. “Though based on what I’ve heard from Central Command, I suspect I’m not going to like what I read.” Entek must have shown apprehension on his face at that, because Tain quickly added, “This doesn’t reflect on you, Entek. In fact, Central Command may well have blundered into a prime intelligence-gathering opportunity. This may well be a blessing in disguise.”

If it is, it’s a very good disguise,Entek thought, but was wise enough not to say aloud. Instead, he simply reached into his duffel and retrieved the padd. Tain took it from his hands, and keyed the display to show him the report.

While Tain perused Entek’s words, the young agent watched the swirl of the nebula. He hadn’t had much chance to observe the stellar phenomenon while on the Carthage—between his duties as Zarin’s toady and his undercover work, there simply was no time—so he took advantage of this opportunity to watch the stellar nursery at work. Entek had never been much of a stargazer, but he had to admit that the swirl of gases and electrons and protostars made for almost hypnotic viewing.

“An excellent report,” Tain finally said, setting the padd aside. “You’ve done well. Your observations on the Federation staff are especially useful.”

“I am only sorry I was unable to inform the Order of the fleet in the nebula.”

Tain shrugged. “There was little we could have done.”

“Central Command made us look like fools before the Federation.”

“Don’t underestimate the Federation, my young friend. They may appear soft and unworthy, but they have thrived. They are the true power in this part of the galaxy, and they have resources we can only begin to guess at. The very fact that they saw through Central Command’s deception shows that they are a force to be reckoned with.”

Entek could not help but blush with pride at the head of the Order calling him “friend.” He also had a question, but he did not feel that he should speak out of turn again.

Again, his emotions must have shown, for Tain prompted him. “You wish to pose a question.”

“Yes.” Entek waited for formal permission to speak, but Tain simply continued to stare at him. Deciding to take that as assent, he asked, “Do you think the Federation will truly be fair judges? They are allies with the Klingons, after all, and have no such ties with us.”

Tain laughed. “With any other government, I would share your concern, but the Federation is painfully honest and up-front in their dealings. That is both their greatest strength and their greatest weakness. And, like any strength or weakness, it is something that we can exploit.” He smiled. “Besides, as I said, this competition of theirs provides us with a prime opportunity. We will be able to observe the Klingons firsthand. They may seem like buffoons, but they have built one of the strongest empires in the quadrant. If we are to eventually conquer them, we need to know more about how they work, how they think. Sharing a planet with them will be ideal for that.”

Knowing it was presumptious, Entek nevertheless had to ask, “Do you wish me to return to Raknal?”

“No. As well as you’ve done here, you’re still too new for this sort of thing. I’d rather send a more experienced agent. Never fear,” he added quickly, “you’ve proven yourself a valuable resource to the Obsidian Order. I make use of my valuable resources.”

Entek beamed with pride.

“Return to your home. Your new supervisor will contact you with your next assignment within the week.”

New supervisor?That could only mean a promotion. The specifics would not be forthcoming, of course, but still.

Entek rose from the guest chair. “Thank you, sir.”

Tain smiled. “I’m simply putting you in a position to serve Cardassia better.”

“This is madness. Utter madness.”

Zarin silently agreed with Kell as he sipped his kanar.The two legates sat in Kell’s plush office along with Gul Monor. The office was over twenty meters squared, containing a huge desk, a full bar, and several couches and chairs. The east wall was taken up entirely with shelving containing padds, data chips, various odds and ends, and even a few codex books. The west wall was decorated with Lissepian paintings, which Zarin knew to be a passion of Kell’s. On either side of the door on the south wall were numerous medals, citations, commendations, and a holopicture that rotated images of Kell with assorted Cardassian celebrities and notables.

Most impressive of all, though, was the north wall, which was one giant picture window with a breathtaking view of the capital city. This,Zarin thought, will be my office someday.The first thing he pla

Zarin and Monor were next to each other on an extremely comfortable urall-skin couch while Kell had parked himself in a huge, flared conformer chair that adjusted itself to the contours of the person occupying it. Zarin thought, perhaps unkindly, that it had to do a great deal of adjusting to conform to Kell’s rotund form.

“Absolutely,” Monor said. “We should be taking what we want, not jumping through hoops for inferiors. What’s next, the Federation telling us how to govern Bajor? We shouldn’t be letting them dictate terms to us.”

“Unfortunately,” Zarin said quickly before Monor went on, “we did violate the agreement. If we don’t agree to Dax’s proposal, we’ll risk antagonizing both the Federation and the Klingons.”

“We’ve already antagonized them,” Monor said, slamming his kanarglass onto the metal table that sat between the couch and Kell’s chair. “We’re not Ferengi, we shouldn’t be bargaining our way out of fighting. They want to take Raknal V, let ’em try, I say.”

“All things being equal, I’d agree with you, Monor,” Kell said. “But we don’t have much choice. The Council won’t authorize more funds for a conflict, and we can’t commit the resources.”

“Especially if it’s both the Federation andthe Empire we have to deal with.” Zarin took another sip of his kanar.