The worst thing about the dungeon was the smell.
True, Kira had spent most of her formative years living in the caves of Dakhur Hills and other less-than-hospitable places. But even though she had been roughing it by the standards of her culture, it was still a world that had replicators, directed energy weapons, faster-than-light travel, near-instant communication over interstellar distances, and other luxuries that Kira had always taken for granted. Such a world did not include a dungeon that smelled of dried blood, infected wounds, and the feces of assorted vermin.
She looked over at Torrna, sitting in the corner of the cell. The wound on his left arm was growing worse. If it wasn’t treated soon, the gangrene would probably kill him.
Just hope our capture did some good, she thought.
Kira had no idea how long the war with Lerrit had been going on. At this point, she couldn’t even say for sure how long it had taken the retreating troops to bring Kira and Torrna to Lerrit’s capital city and the dungeon where they’d been languishing. On the one hand, in a world where communication and transportation was so slow, the pace of life was much slower than Kira was used to—on the other, it seemed like the rebellion had only just ended before this new war with Lerrit had begun.
Kira had been fearing this very thing since the collapse of the fire caves meant more business for the Natlar Port. The port had indeed thrived, giving the Perikian economy the shot in the arm it so desperately needed in order to truly start building itself into a legitimate power in the region, instead of an insignificant nation lucky enough to have a nice piece of real estate.
What she had not expected was the sheer strength of the Lerrit Army. The same army that Kira had helped repel had doubled its numbers and was much better armed. The navy was giving the Endtree ships a run for their money—and the war had been declared on both Perikia and Endtree, so there was also fighting in Endtree’s territory, both on land and sea.
Still, they had won a major battle at Barlin Field, driving the army completely out of the Makar Province.
All it had cost them was their best field general.
The door to the dungeon opened, and Kira winced. The place had no route of escape (Kira had spent the first six hours in the cell scouring every millimeter for just such a thing), and only one window, which was fifteen meters above them—just enough to provide a glimmer light and hope for escape without any chance of that hope being fulfilled. A (very small) part of Kira admired the tactical psychology that went into the dungeon’s design.
The flickering torchlight from the hallway, however, was far brighter than the meager illumination provided by the faraway window, so it took several seconds for Kira’s eyes to adjust. When they did, she was confronted with the guard who brought them their food and waste buckets (not replacing them nearly often enough to suit Kira). The guard wore the usual Lerrit uniform of gray and blue, with the addition of a shabby black cloak that probably served to keep the stink and filth of the dungeon off the guard’s uniform. Standing next to him was a very short man dressed in a white jacket and white pants, both with shiny gold fastenings, and a white cape that served the same function as the guard’s cloak—and, being white, was more noticeably the worse for doing so.
Kira recognized him, barely, from the coins that sometimes changed hands on the docks: this was Prince Syba Avtra of Lerrit.
“You look better on your coins, Your Highness,” Kira said.
The prince looked up at her. “Very droll.”
Then he glanced at the guard, who rewarded Kira’s comment with a slap to the face. All Kira could think was, I’ve known some Cardassians in my time who would eat you for lunch. She gave the guard a contemptuous look in reply.
Avtra, meanwhile, had moved on to Torrna. “You will rise in the presence of royalty, General.”
Torrna looked up at Avtra with the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut. “As soon as I’m in the presence of some, I’ll consider it.”
Again Avtra gave the guard a glance. Since Torrna was seated, the guard elected to kick the general in the stomach rather than bend over to slap him.
After coughing for several seconds, Torrna said, “I’m disappointed. I was hoping that Her Royal Highness herself would come to gloat over our capture. It is, after all, the only true victory you have won in this war.”
The prince laughed heartily at that.
“Something amuses you?” Torrna asked the question with contempt and with a few more coughs, diluting the effect of the former.
“My ‘dear’ mother has been dead for some time, fool! Do you truly think she engineered this war? Or our alliance with the Bajora?”
This time Kira felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach, though the guard had made no move toward her. The Bajora? No wonder they’re so well armed!
“I can see by the look on your face that you appreciate the position you’re in, General. With the Bajora behind us, we will destroy Endtree, squash you upstart rebels and finally control the entire southern coast.” He moved toward Torrna, looking down on the general’s dirty, bruised, swollen face with a sneer on his own clean visage.
“Now I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what the troop movements are for your little band of spear carriers?”
“If I thought you were worth wasting the spit, I’d spit on you right now,” Torrna said. His voice was more subdued than usual—not surprising after the ordeal they’d been through—but the tone was abundantly clear.
“I assumed as much. Besides, I can’t imagine that even your soldiers are so stupid as to retain the same battle plan after one of their generals have been captured. Still, I had to ask. And I wanted to see the infamous General Torrna in our dungeon for myself. You will be publicly executed at dawn tomorrow. It was going to be yesterday, but the demand for tickets is simply outrageous, and we had to postpone so we could put in extra seating in the stadium.”
Kira wondered if that was the same stadium that had been unearthed in this region during the Occupation. After the Cardassian withdrawal, Bajoran archaeologists had speculated that sporting events had been held there as long as fifty thousand years prior to its rediscovery. That it was used for public executions was a fact of which Kira could happily have remained ignorant.
Avtra finally turned back to Kira. “As for this one—I suppose we should let Torrna have one final night of companionship before we take her to the front lines. She’ll make fine arrow fodder.”
With that, he turned and left, saying, “Enough of this. I need to get the stink of this dungeon off my person.”
The guard closed the door, leaving Kira wishing she could get the stink of the prince off herself as easily.
“We have to get out of here,” Torrna said.
Kira snorted. “I’m open to suggestions. The only ones who have free rein in and out of this cell are insects and rodents.”
Torrna tried to stand up, but made the mistake of bracing himself with his left arm, and he collapsed to the floor.
Kira moved to help him up, but he waved her off. “I’m fine. Just forgot about the damn wound. Stupid arm’s gone numb.” He staggered to his feet. “Damn those foul Bajora—I hope those Prophets of theirs strike them down with lightning.”
The Prophets don’t work like that, Kira thought, but refrained from saying it aloud.
“We have to—argh! I’m fine,” he added quickly, again brushing off Kira’s offer of help. “We have to get this intelligence back to the prefect and to Inna. If the Queen is dead, and the Bajora are helping….You were right, the fire caves’ collapse definitely made our land more attractive.”
“I don’t think that matters as much as we thought. From the way that kid was talking, he’s been wanting to start a war with us for years, but his mother’s been holding him back. The collapse of the caves probably made it easier for him to justify it, but I’m willing to bet that we’d have had a war on our hands as soon as the Queen died no matter what.”
Torrna nodded, and Kira could see him wincing in the dim light. He’s more hurt than he’ll admit, and the stubborn bastard won’t let me help him.
“We’ve got to find some way out of here! If we can get back, tell them about this, we can change our strategy, try to hit the supply lines the Bajora are using….”
Sure, no problem. I’ll just tap my combadge, order the runabout to lock in on our signal, and then we’ll beam out of here. Then we can transmit a subspace message with our intel. That’ll work …
The door opened suddenly again. A guard—a different one—came in with two buckets.
Then he closed the door. What the hell—? The guards never closed the door.
The guard dropped the buckets, then reached into his cloak and pulled out a set of keys. “C’mon, c’mon, we haven’t got much time. Take these, take these.”
“Who the hell’re you?” Torrna asked.
“Right, right, the password.” The guard then uttered a phrase in Old High Bajoran that Kira only recognized two words of.
Torrna’s eyes went wide. “Moloki?”
“In the very frightened flesh, yes.”
“We thought you dead.”
“I probably will be after this stunt, believe me. Don’t know what I was thinking coming up with this ludicrous plan. They’ll use my guts for building material, they will.”
Kira took the keys from Moloki. “What happened to you?”
“Nothing happened as such. I simply couldn’t get any messages out. The moment Her Royal Senility dropped dead, all hell broke loose. Truly, a spy can no longer make anything like an honest living in this environment.”
“Can you get us—” Torrna started.
“Yes, yes, I can get you out of here, just give me a moment to collect myself. I’ve never been much for impersonations, and I had to pull off being one of those imbecile guards that the prince likes to employ.
Stomping ’round all day, bellowing at the tops of their lungs so loud you can’t think.” He shuddered. “No style at all, more’s the pity.” He reached into his cloak. “In any case, here’s a map that’ll show you how to get out of here once I bring you to the surface, as well as a map that shows the supply lines the Bajora are using. Assuming you get home alive, that should be fairly useful.” He put his hand on Torrna’s shoulder. “Let me make something abundantly clear, General—it will not be easy to get home. It will involve going through a swamp and then across a mountain range. Deviate even slightly from the route I’ve mapped out, and you’re guaranteed to be captured.”
“And if we stay on the route?” Kira asked.
“Then you’re just likely to be captured.”
“I was afraid of that,” Torrna muttered.
Kira looked at Torrna and winced. “He’s not going to make it with his arm in the shape it’s in.”
“He has to, dammit!” Moloki said sharply, in marked contrast to his more affable tone. Then he composed himself. “Listen to me, and listen very carefully, because I’m only going to say this once. Years ago, I offered to help Periki Remarro in whatever way was necessary—not because I have any great love for that silly peninsula of yours, but because I want to see Lerrit great again. That isn’t going to happen as long as those inbred mutants are in power.”
“So you’ve been working to undermine them from within?” Kira said.
“Something like that, yes. It’s been a bit of a chore, but I thought the end was near. Avtra is sterile, you see, and so can’t produce any heirs. I had hopes that the Syba dynasty would finally end its pathetic chokehold over my home.” He sighed. “This ridiculous alliance with the Bajora changes all that, of course. The Bajora know damn well that Prince Idiot is the last of his moronic line, and they plan to use this alliance to gain a toehold so they can take over once the Crown Imbecile dies.” Moloki unsheathed the sword he had in a belt sheath. “You’ll need this more than I will.”
Kira took it and hefted it. It was a pretty standard design, average balance, nothing spectacular. But it beats being unarmed.
She looked at Torrna, who was now sweating rather more than was warranted by the temperature in the chilly, rank dungeon. “You okay?” “No,” Torrna said honestly, “but it doesn’t matter. Moloki is right, we must return with this news or everything we’ve fought for will be lost!”
Chuckling, Moloki said, “You’re as much of a crazed zealot as I suspected, General.” He held up a hand to cut off Kira’s protest. “I meant it as a compliment, my dear, believe me. I can say that as the craziest of crazed zealots. Now come, let us go over this map quickly before someone decides to check up on us….”