CHAPTER NINE
“The cure will kill you.”
- Van Stephenson
M’Raav Hatshepsut absorbed the entire
account—Mantovanni's version of his encounter with Ran Imaldris—without
comment.
After a moment's consideration, she
guessed, “And you’ve never told
Parihn what you did, have you?”
Mantovanni's response was a grim shake
of his head.
“I didn't want her to feel... inappropriately protected—like she
couldn't handle herself.”
“Even though that's what you thought,
essentially,” Hatshepsut observed.
He snapped, “Don't start, M'Raav. I didn't have any idea what else to do. They would have eventually killed her. We all know that—including Parihn.”
“Why not go to Starfleet Intelligence,”
the Felisian asked, “and arrange...?”
Mantovanni interrupted with a barked,
“...protection for her? That would
have been the end of her career. They would have put her in a safe house on
Earth or Vulcan, performing some mundane administrative task—like traffic
analysis for the Orion Sector. She would have been thrilled with that.
“They had no right to take away her
happiness... and I wasn't about to let it stand.
“Besides, even in those circumstances,
they probably would've gotten to her anyway. The Orions don't fool around when
it comes to such matters. If they make a promise—and they promised to kill her, Hatshepsut—they don't relent
until it's accomplished.
“Parihn's come so far, through so
much... she shouldn't have to feel as if her freedom, her very existence,
depends on something so base as my brutish threat. She's got a good life, now.
I'll not permit anything to jeopardize that.
“Of course, that's not the only
consideration relevant here,” he added dryly.
Something intangible in his voice let
Hatshepsut know that, even now, he wasn't discussing the unusual personal relationship
between him and Parihn a number of his officers—M'Raav herself, Benteen,
T'Vaar—knew about, but to which they never
referred.
“Oh, it gets worse?” the Felisian trilled.
He ignored the bite of her tone, and
continued, “A few days after my little conversation with the Orion consigliore, I received a transmission
from an 'unknown' source. Of course, it was Ran again. It said only, 'We have an arrangement. But, from this
point on, keep her out of our business...
“...or you're both dead, and we'll take our chances.'“
Hatshepsut chirped in distress.
“And I daresay attempting to rescue
Aedra Anari from her Orion captors probably qualifies as getting into their
'business.'
“Not good,
“I could hardly have predicted this
from her,” he said defensively.
The Felisian batted him in the arm with
her paw, a gentle chastisement.
“I could hardly believe you didn't. We both know how willful and
good-hearted she is. No doubt she feels Aedra is her responsibility.
“Assuming we overtake Parihn at Way Station 242, what do you propose we
do? She's highly unlikely to relent in her attempt. Are you going to arrest
her? Knock her out and take her back to Starfleet in disgrace and shame?
Despite your... persuasiveness, you won't win with Parihn if you try and
convince her to turn back or abandon her friend. She'll resign her commission
and continue looking for Aedra on her own.”
“I know,” Mantovanni muttered. He
seemed at a loss.
And, Hatshepsut knew, if he didn't work
things out soon, his loss was bound to become more literal…
…and profound.