I pace along the corridors to the conference room. I take a deep breath before entering, hold it for a moment, exhale. This will require... tact. I take a step towards the door, and it slides open. Beyond it, the Hazari is already seated at the small table. He regards me with an unfriendly look.
I take the seat across the table from him. I put down the PADD in my hand.
"N'Drask, yes?" I say to him.
He nods. His eyes glitter, studying me.
"We've spoken before, have we not?" I hope Pexlini's identification is correct. True, this certainly looks like the Hazari I spoke with at the Hierarchy station... but I am not familiar enough with the species to be sure, at this point.
"We have." His tone is guarded.
"Excellent." I spin the PADD around so that he can read it. "Preliminary draft of a contract. Please let me know what you think of it."
He makes no move to take the device. "So these are Federation methods, huh?"
I was dreading this. Pexlini's methods are decidedly not the ones I would have preferred... but I am baffled when it comes to finding an alternative. But I must not temporize, or N'Drask will sense weakness. "On this occasion, yes," I say firmly.
"Situational ethics."
I must not be goaded. "We need your cooperation, and we need to be assured of it. More than four thousand people are dead already, and we do not even understand the nature of the threat. In such a situation -" I let a little snarl creep into my voice "- my ethics do, indeed, become flexible. Check the contract. See if there is anything in it you cannot agree to."
"Bad as the damn Benthans," N'Drask mutters as he reads. "You and them... perfect match."
"The Benthans are a force for law and order in this quadrant," I say.
N'Drask raises his eyes from the PADD. "Yeah, sure they are," he says. "Their law, their way. 'Hi, we're the Benthan Guard, you are in range of our guns so you are under our laws, your laws and customs, and especially your liberties, can get bent.' So that's the way the Federation works too, huh? Nice to know that."
"The Federation governs only by consent of the governed," I say.
"Don't remember when I consented to this," says N'Drask. "Let me tell you something. While back, one of the Kazon sects, Kazon-Roima I think it was, set itself up as a police force, offering protection and the benefits of law and order to everyone they ran into. Nobody took them seriously, thought they were just another bunch of pirates. So what makes the Benthans any different? Better hair?"
He is trying to bait me, to distract me from my purpose. "The contract," I say.
He looks down, reluctantly. "I... can't," he says.
"I see." I lean back in my chair and study him through slitted eyes. "Well, then. Federation situational ethics would suggest that the best thing is to return the Mask to its original owner... though, properly speaking, an object of such considerable academic interest should be in a museum -"
"I'd rather fail a contract honestly than -" The rat-trap Hazari mouth snaps shut. But too late.
"Interesting," I say. "You would rather fail in a contract than... what? Than knowingly violate another one." I spin the PADD around to face me. "Three main clauses. Confidentiality between myself, yourself, and my associates who took the Mask from you. Can that be the point at issue?"
"I can neither confirm nor deny any supposition you might make," N'Drask says.
"It doesn't matter. I am prepared to discount that. Two clauses remain. You are to disclose your dealings with Wuquen, and you are to give us help in finding the Hazari captain who escorted the Kadirian ship." I smile without mirth. N'Drask's eyes are moving rapidly, looking from side to side, looking for a way out. "Wuquen. Wuquen is dead, he can have no hold on you. His arrangement was irregular, unknown to the Hierarchy management above him. No, we can discount Wuquen, too, I think -"
"No," N'Drask interrupts, "I can give no details regarding Wuquen. None."
My mind is racing. "Then there must be another contract, one that involves Wuquen, and they must still be alive." If only I knew more about Hazari facial expressions, body language... or if I could use a psychotricorder, or a telepath, to examine his mental state right now. The Ferasan would not hesitate, I am sure - I wonder if Pexlini would, either. Perhaps my Alpha Quadrant ethics are out of place, among these strange stars. "Very well. If you cannot give information about Wuquen, then we must turn to the third clause. Who escorted the Kadirian ship?"
He twists and turns in his seat. For a moment, I wonder if he will attack me. I can take him - I think - or at least hold him off until security comes running. I feel my ears flatten against my skull, feel the adrenaline rushing in my bloodstream, feel my fur rising and bristling.
"I can neither confirm nor deny -" N'Drask begins, and I see it. All of a sudden, I see it.
"They're connected, aren't they?" I say. N'Drask's eyes glitter in agony. "Your deal with Wuquen, it involves this other Hazari captain. Yes, yes -" I wave a dismissive hand at him "- you can neither confirm nor deny my supposition. But it is still the truth, isn't it?"
I lean forward, stare hard into his eyes. "Listen to me. Your contract will need to be amended. You know, now, that fresh information has come to light. You know that whatever you are doing, it has dangers, dangers you didn't know about. Dangers your partner doesn't know about. Will you expose him - or her - to those dangers? Bring them to the table, N'Drask. Let's meet. Let's make a deal, a contract. We're all reasonable people, no? We can come to an agreement that will satisfy everyone."
Is there hope glimmering in those eyes, or just fresh anger?
"I can neither confirm nor deny any supposition you might make," he says, sullenly, in the end. "But I can - I can approach my principals in my other contracts and ask if they will consent to - further negotiations."
"Deulsanti returns to his home in less than three weeks. You will need to work quickly, to contact your - other principals."
"I'll manage it. Or if I don't - at least it's only me who's failed. Thanks to you," he adds with a snarl. "You and your - associates."
I rise, go to the door, watch it slide open. "Then I will not detain you further," I say smoothly. Two security guards step through the doorway. "Escort Captain N'Drask to the transporter room," I tell them.
And, as he passes by me, eyes wild, fists clenched, I am very glad those guards are there.
---
Pexlini is in my ready room, her feet up on my couch, reading a PADD. She looks up as I enter.
"I am not happy about this," I tell her.
"Ethically?" she says. She holds up the PADD. "Got the transcript already."
"Ethically. Yes." I sit down heavily behind my desk.
Pexlini shrugs. "'kay, take your point, but what else can we do? Can't appeal to his good citizenship, because he ain't our kind of good citizen. Can't put diplomatic pressure on the Hazari government, because we've nothing to press with, in this quadrant. What's left? Kick the problem back to Starfleet Command, hope this situation doesn't get worse in the months it'll take to get someone else out here? Someone else who'll have the same choices we do? 'Course, there's always the alternative."
"What alternative?"
"Kidnap N'Drask, hold him in a cell, and make him talk. I'm guessing that doesn't appeal to you. Doesn't really appeal to me. Ethically." She shrugs. "You do the best you can with what you've got, right?"
I sigh, and tap moodily on the desk console. The image of N'Drask's ship appears on the screen, an elegant sliver of metal, glinting in the starlight. It is turning - its drives flare - and it is gone.
"Let's hope he can persuade the other Hazari to meet with us," I mutter.
"Well," says Pexlini, "at least he'll have to meet with the other Hazari, right? And I took the chance to scan his ship, record his transponder and his warp signature, and even float a couple of discreet tracking devices over onto his hull. Got 'em through a Ferengi contact in Experimental Engineering, he'll never spot them. With a bit of luck, he'll lead us straight to his friend."
I stare at her. "Situational ethics," I say, at last, wearily.
Pexlini shrugs again. "What else we gonna do, hey? Tell you one thing, though," she adds. "Sometimes, I think he's right about the Benthans."
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