Devil's In The Details
Sydrax
Oul trudged miserably along a cobblestone path by the banks of the capital city's rivers. It was a mild day, beautiful by Sydraxian standards, the warmth of the sun complemented by a cool breeze from the river. And here in the part of the city known that was becoming increasingly known as the Red Zone things had been kept relatively quiet. But Oul wasn't a Sydraxian. Even with the breeze it was too hot, and his simple clothes were scratchy on his prosthetic skin. The beautiful flowers of the trees and in the pots lining the pathway filled the air with pollen. He was told that despite the idyll tranquil of the scene, sometimes the wind carried the sounds of fighting across the river, and the scent of smoke. Oul wouldn't know, because the instant he stepped outside his entire respiratory system went into meltdown, even with the allergy shots.
He was joined by Hierarch Kakix, richly adorned and with red feathers hanging from around his neck. He meandered slowly, no doubt enjoying Oul's obvious misery. Accompanying Oul was a Bajoran woman, and surrounding the trio was a quartet of Sydraxian paramilitaries, red sashes over their armored vests. They were armed with flechette guns and grenade launchers that dazzled in the midday light
Kakix stopped by a bench, taking in a deep breath. "The Cardassian Union's dominion is dead," he stated turning to look down at Oul.
That bastard had dragged him out here to drop
this on him. Oul hoped the sniff he gave in reaction came across as sufficiently dismissive and not overly mucous-y instead.
"Whatever makes you say that?" Asked Oul's Bajoran companion, smiling serenely. "From what I've heard the situation here is far from resolved, and by all indications the Union government is functioning quite happily after the purges all those years ago."
"I agree," added Oul, "Our mutual friends have given no serious indication of abandoning us." Well, not yet. "And despite the violence in the street I haven't heard such pessimism from your Red colleagues."
Kakix screeched laughter, "I'm the pessimist? Why, Odazi," he said, brushing one claw on Oul's shoulder, a gesture which forced him to suppress a shudder, "Have you read some of the case reports flowing in from the operatives in Yrillian space?" Kakix took his claw away and idly rubbed it on his sash as if to clean it, "Oh no, of course not. Because we've been the only ones bothering to intercept them."
The Bajoran woman smiled politely as Oul blinked at Kakix. "Sorry," he said, "Am I supposed to be impressed you managed to crack Cardassian codes?"
Flowers rustled and cloying sweetness wafted on the air as Kakix bristled. He raised himself over Oul, a slight flush on his neck, "I don't care if I impress you, Eel," he said, turning sharply and walking along the path again with an annoyed whistle, "What matters is the content. Cardassians expressing thinly-veiled apprehension and fear of the Federation in the Licori war." Kakik hooted dismissively, "A war with a grand total of two battleships in the Licori's possession. We have faced a larger fleet of the Federation's in the Expanse." He glared into the distance, as if trying to admonish Cardassia itself, "
Alone for the most part. And yet intel officers are quaking in their boots?"
"Ah." Oul said, "I remember the document you are referring to. A nice draft report from an unnamed,
singular source. There is some good analysis there, and no doubt the Gul responsible will regularize the defeatist spin away before pushing it higher. The last time such pessimism was detected in the Cardassian machine it was… judiciously removed." Oul waved a hand. "Case officers can become very myopic. It is a well known problem. Their whole world becomes whatever species they are studying. Sometimes, they grow to admire it, and panic when it falls. I am sure this is what happened here."
"He suggests cutting Sydrax loose!" Kakix said, craning his head to look down on Oul, "If that idea gains traction on Cardassia, then perhaps my time is wasted here with the Reds. The Blues and Greens might have the right of this revolution." He smiled wickedly, breathing heavily, "And I am sure if that fails I could earn favor with the Graduates by telling them about about
you." He jerked his head up, at the Bajoran, "Or your little Rabble-Rouser."
The Bajoran glanced at the red-sashed guards and Kakix shook his head at her, "Oh, don't think they're loyal to the color on their chest. They've been with me for years. They trust my judgement."
Their eyes still darting about in search of threats, the four paramilitaries nodded. The lone male in the group took a moment to loosen his collar.
The Bajoran stopped, still smiling, although it was more of a smirk. "My dear Hierarch," she said, "Abandoning us for the Graduates or the Blues is nothing but pure nihilism. You have Cardassian backing, they do not." She spread her hands, "What more is there to say?"
"Much more, my dear Cheret," Kakix growled.
Cheret smiled, "Before the Cardassians, I was destined to nothing but life as a simple shopkeeper. Literally a simple one. Confined to sell the same wares as ever, restricted. I said no to that, Hierarch. I made a kiln, much more efficient than the ones we used for our pottery. Revolutionary. And I thought, 'I could sell this.' And so I did. My family could afford more than ever." Her smile had disappeared, and her voice wavered slightly as she continued. "It was good until the Rectifiers came and sliced the nose off my face. Didn't let the healers touch me until it oozed pus and black poison was in my veins." Cheret let that hang in the air.
"I carried that mark, that
emptiness, around with me after I survived." She continued, "What did the Cardassians do when they came? Replaced it with a biosynthetic facsimile, and hung those damn Rectifiers from the towers of their own Citadel. Recognized my talents, and lifted me up to high office. And now you stand here, wavering in support of your people as they teeter between Yrillian anarchy, Federation submission, and self-immolating militarism, and pretend you can just abandon them?"
"They abandoned us in the Expanse!" Kakix said. Sweat on his brow shimmered in the sun.
"You failed to hold the line." Cheret retorted. Kakix rose up, his eyes filled with fury. "Abandoned or not," Cheret said, "We're here now. Odazi does his part from the shadows, I do mine more openly."
Kakix laughed, "What part do you do aside from selling simpering anecdotes to the rabble?"
"Have you ever heard of jazz, Mr. Kakix?" Kakix shook his head no. "I thought not. It's not a musical form the Sydraxians would appreciate -- it's human. Your species is used to concerts, conductors, everything in its orderly place, following standardized sheet music. But a lot of jazz is improvisational, made on the fly. People give and take, solos sometimes going to who has the guts and sometimes, the loudest instrument. Your Hierarchy is no longer an Orchestra, it is a jazz band. And I understand jazz. I will twist the neutrals towards us and with only a little luck," She tapped him on the chest, "The bulk of the Vanguard as well."
Kakix stared down at where she'd tapped him, then snapped his eyes back up to her, "A cute metaphor, Miss Cheret, but not entirely reassuring."
She smiled wider, which only made Oul suspect something terrible was coming, "Alright, Kakix. If that metaphor didn't satisfy, let me be more blunt. Have you heard of Glinn Kusov and VIPR team?"
Kakix nodded suspiciously, "They are the training unit for the Bajorans."
"Wrong. They are the Cardassian regime change unit
and training unit. They tear you down and build you up again. Some of the finest soldiers in the entire Union call that unit home, and Kusov is one of the best of those. They went in first, before the transition even took place, and secured Sorje's palace. No casualties on their end, eighteen Bajoran oppressors killed. Sorje escaped more due to luck, of course. His son died from a grenade, though, trying to resist. Or so they say." She examined her nails, "I remember you have several children…"
Kakix's hand was up in a flash, claws extended, grabbing for Cheret's face. It stopped short of the skin, and Cheret glanced up from her nails with a smirk, "You seem quite upset, Hierarch. Odazi told me you have a temper, but I'm afraid it's impossible to discuss things rationally with you when you become this emotional."
Kakix dropped his arm in a huff, "So it's threats, then."
"It doesn't have to be," Oul interjected, "Not if you continue to cooperate."
Kakix stared between them for a while, then with a lurch continued down the path, "Very well," he said, "But if it does not go to plan, I expect a seat on your evacuation shuttle."
"Of course," Oul said. If it was convenient.
