Well of Souls

“That’s going to be a little hard. She’s dead,” said Garrett, and saw the genuine surprise in Qadir’s eyes. Gotcha.“Incinerated in a stolen Vulcan warpshuttle. Would you like to know how and why?”

“Please.”

“It goes like this, Qadir. Talma worked for you, a middleman I’m guessing, someone who ran interference between your mercenaries and the organization itself. So she’d be privy to a lot of information, know about your distribution corridors, where you’re getting arms and to whom you’re selling them, how you network red ice, things like that.”

“I run a legitimate business, dealing in antiques and archaeological oddities. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Garrett lifted an eyebrow. “I’m not bugged, if that’s what you’re worried about. Besides, you said it: The Federation has no jurisdiction here. Anyway, I’ll bet you that Talma Pren looked around at all this,” she motioned to include Qadir’s house, the riyad, “and wanted more. As you said, every family has its price, and I guess you weren’t paying her enough. Then along comes Laura Burke…”

“Burke, Laura Burke,” Qadir said, a pudgy finger to his lips. “Who is this Burke?”

“Save it.” Garrett tone was caustic. “You have eyes and ears; don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

“And what if I did?”

“You’re a businessman, Qadir. You know what would happen if word got out that, somehow, you let a Starfleet Intelligence operative into your organization. So you sent Talma, whom you trusted implicitly, to get rid of her. Only Talma outfoxed you, and she did a number on Starfleet Intelligence, too. She rigged the explosion on Burke’s shuttle, but then she assumed Burke’s identity. Only youwould know that Talma had been with Burke, and so you’d assume Talma was dead. It was perfect because when Talma, posing as Burke, showed up again, you’d naturally assume that Talma’s plan had failed and Burke had, somehow, gotten away.”

“But for what reason?”

“Talma knew you were after the portal. Hell, she probably arranged it for you,” said Garrett, knowing that Qadir had no way of knowing that the portal did not exist, nor what they’d found beneath the surface of that dead planet. “She knew what was going down. So after Halak showed up and provided a very convenient cover, she knew that all she had to do was pose as an intelligence agent, take Halak, and use himas a middleman. She’d never be directly implicated; Talma Pren’s dead, after all. So she’d get the portal and whatever else your mercenaries found—they’d all die, by the way—and it’s likely that you’d believe the expedition was a failure, and she’d walk away, probably with more than a small fortune.”

Qadir picked up his gold-rimmed coffee cup, studied its contents for a moment then replaced it without drinking. “That’s a very nice story. But you’re overlooked one thing. Of what possible use would the portal be for Talma? Talma runs…ran nothing.”

“In yourorganization. It’s so obvious even you must see it, Qadir. Talma worked for the Orion Syndicate, and that’s how she managed to convince Burke that she’d be as good a contact as Arava, except Arava passed information to Starfleet, and Talma played both sides.” She didn’t add that this was the only way Talma Pren could have known about Halak and his forged documentation. Halak’s brother Baatin had given these documents to Halak, and used Orion Syndicate contacts to arrange for Halak’s disappearance.

“When she was posing as Burke, she mentioned that Orion Syndicate operatives are scattered throughout your organization. I just didn’t put it together until later that she was talking about herself, too.” Garrett gave Qadir a look of mock sympathy. “You’re going to have a really tough time knowing who to trust from now on.” (She didn’t add that Starfleet Intelligence would be all over Qadir’s case like Xanarian fleas.)

Two high spots of color burned on Qadir’s fleshy cheeks. “A very interesting story,” he said, finally. “Too bad Talma’s dead, and we can’t have a little chat.”

“Yes, isn’t it?” Garrett turned to go then stopped. She bent from the waist until her eyes were level with Qadir’s. “Look, I don’t care about you,” she said. “All I care about is my crew. So listen, very carefully. Stay away from Halak. Stay away from my crew.”

“Or?”

“You need me to spell it out?” When Qadir didn’t reply, Garrett nodded. “Good, I’m glad we understand each other.”

She straightened. “Eyes and ears, Qadir, eyes and ears. Someone will be watching. Someone will be listening. So will I. Don’t cross me.”

She walked away without another word.

They’d flown in silence for a few moments when Garrett said, “Mind if I ask you something? What really happened at Ryn III?”

Halak shot a quick glance over his shoulder at Arava, who was seated just behind Garrett, and a young boy whose hand she held. “Arava, why don’t you take Klar aft, get him something to eat? There’s a little replicator further back, and we’ve got another forty-five minutes before we get to the ship. He must be hungry.”

“I’m not hungry,” said Klar. He had Arava’s dark eyes, but his jaw was square, like Halak’s. “Please, Uncle, can’t I stay up here with you?”

“Now, come on,” said Arava, unbuckling her harness. “You heard your uncle. He’s a busy man, a Starfleet officer, and that’s his captain there, wants to have a word with him. You’ll have plenty of time to spend with your uncle later on. Come on,” she gave the protesting boy a little push, “let’s go exploring.”

“It’s just a ship,” Klar said, “and it’s a littleship.”

Garrett watched them go then turned back to Halak. “Good-looking boy. He’s got her eyes.”

“And Baatin’s face.”

“Yours too. Do you think your sister-in-law knew what Talma was up to?”

“That Talma would kill Burke?” Halak frowned. “Absolutely not. The way she told it, Talma argued that she had more information to give Starfleet than Arava. Talma had worked for the Orion Syndicate and Baatin, and Arava trusted her. So I guess Arava convinced Burke that Talma would be a better witness. Plus, Arava had Klar to worry about. Anyway, the next thing Arava knew, Burke never returned and she didn’t hear from Talma. I don’t know why Qadir let Arava live. Maybe he was playing both sides against the middle—fu

“We’ll let SI decide that. Now, what about you? Ryn III? I want to know.”

Halak licked his lips, blew out again. He stared out of the main shuttle window, but Garrett could tell from the look in his eyes that he was staring at a memory.

“Everything happened the way I said,” Halak began. “Those scouts fired on us. We had to abandon ship. A desperate thing to do, but it was better than nothing…”

“Ten hours,” said Strong, his face glistening with sweat. His breathing was labored, although he had more air than Halak and his supply wasn’t dwindling as quickly. But fear also ate oxygen. “It’s been ten hours.”

“Stop…talking,” Halak panted. “Using up…your…air.” He gulped, his lungs trying to wring more oxygen from air that didn’t have it. The air inside his suit was thick, and he had a roaring headache. Carbon dioxide poisoning, he thought. Headaches, diaphoresis, dyspnea. But not unconsciousness, not the nice quiet exit one would get from carbon monoxide poisoning. They’d pass out eventually, but only after they’d had convulsions, vomiting. So maybe he’d choke on his vomit and suffocate that way. He wasn’t sure which was better.

Strong gave a weak laugh. “Doesn’t matter. Both of us going to end up like Thex.”

Halak didn’t have to strength to glance over at the lifeless body of the Andorian. Thex had died within an hour of their beam-out. They’d bled the Andorian’s air, Halak giving Strong most of it because of the damage to Strong’s suit.