A Federation of Fear (part one: the Songbird and the Cuckoo)
Heirarch Kakix raised his neck high and shook his head. "To please Cardassia? No. It is not for our benefactors alone that we must build an empire. So too, must we build one to ever hope of standing alone."
Heirarch Thaah bared his fangs, an expression of annoyance as he looked back at his counterpart. "Then what care do you even have for the yapping dogs and their offerings? The Yrillians are too disunified and short-sighted to ever threaten us. The Orions have easier prey, and problems of their own besides. Against whom, save the Federation, should we ever have need to stand alone?"
Kakix let out a frustrated whistle. He had made his case to the Triumvirate not a fortnight ago, and was getting tired of repeating it to every Hierarch who couldn't be bothered to watch the records. Around them, the light of the twin suns glinted off of gold wall panels and glistening soapstone tiles around the Many Coloured Courtyard. Behind the outer wall, the tops of the original Sacred Arbor trees swayed in the afternoon wind.
"The Cardassians," Kakix finally said, "are far from us, in space and in culture. They may grant us the most favorable of policies, the most generous of trade values, the best of their potent technology, but their is no interest for them in supporting us once the Federation falls, and no honor for us in a future as mere clients to a nation of silent secret-keepers." He rapped his gold-plated talons against the tile floor. "The way forward is in the building of empires, Thaah. First the Gretarans. One day not far off, the richer Yrillian Garden. It is my hope that we shall always be friends with Cardassia, but once the perfidious Federation crumbles it shall be the end of our client status. We must learn to find our own riches, build our own infrastructure, develop our own technologies that equals that of the Great Powers." He flicked a clawed, jeweled hand skyward and let his voice ring out. "Conquest and tribute will fund the raiders that Cardassia demands today, but shall be our lifesblood when Cardassian aid runs dry tomorrow." He lowered his voice again. "Or even tonight. Their Central Command is still not responding to our entreaties."
Thaah almost laughed out loud at this. "Still, they hide their heads in shame. So broken in spirit over a mere prodigal daughter?" He then narrowed his eyes and picked thoughtfully at his feathered sash. "Whatever heresies the Federation committed on your planet, Kakix, I am not the only Heirarch here on the homeworld who has begun to question the wisdom of our choice-"
Kakix didn't give him time to finish the sentence, raising his neck skyward and letting out a piercing shriek that turned heads all the way across the courtyard. "It was not YOUR shrine who the aliens defiled! Not YOUR hospitality who was flung back in your eyes! Your people may have forgotten what it means to be Sydraxian, but on Kar-Akar the streets echo with songs of rage and revenge! The Triumvirate represents the will of
all Sydraxians, not just your constituents. And they have MADE their decision!"
The younger Hierarch raised his own neck to look Kakix in the face, but he looked more bemused than angry. "That their decision has been made, I am not such a fool to deny. But when we look back upon that ruling with the wisdom of retrospect?" He slowly lowered his head again and smiled grimly. "It may be someone else who appears the fool. Good day, friend Kakix."
Kakix watched him depart, breathing a little more deeply than he had realized at first. Why did this feel so much like lying? The Sydraxite Heirarchy needed an empire, and its people needed to commit fully. With or without Cardassia. Stagnation would, eventually, mean death.
"One of those days, Hierarch?"
An unpleasantly familiar voice spoke from behind him. It was all Kakix could do not to draw his dagger.
"I think perhaps a vacation would do you well, friend Kakix, my lord Hierarch. You're certainly not going to get much done here unless you can keep your calm."
He turned around. The young gardener wore the same, placid smile as always, and walked with a confidence that belied the dirt and water on his dark workrobe. "Been a while," the gardener continued, "I was starting to fear I wouldn't see you again unless I transferred back to Kar-Akar."
"I have no news to give you," Kakix growled, stepping closer to the gardener and lowering his voice, "and you already know that. So. Why are you here, you noxious little eel?"
The gardener pouted. "Eel? There's no need to be
speciesist, Hierarch."
"There's no need for you to infiltrate this palace when you could have knocked on my front door."
"Ah." The gardener nodded, contrite. "You have a fair point. There are some bits of culture shock that never quite end, I suppose. But regardless." He began leading Kakix out of the courtyard, into a shadowy alcove where no one could see them. "I've prepared a new data package for you. Something our mutual friends would be quite upset if they knew we knew. It concerns a certain convoy that vanished in the borderzone."
"Of course, the Cardassians never tell us what they know. The Federation?"
"Not precisely." The gardener led him into the walk-in closet that contained the rakes, pruning shears, and fertilizer bags that were the tools of his alleged trade. "It would seem the Cardassians weren't being entirely truthful about the situation with a certain
insectile species. There's no damning proof, but my organization would be quite surprised if the fate of your missing ships was
completely unrelated."
"And you're telling me this, why?" Kakix screwed up his nose against the fertilizer stench as the gardener closed the door.
"I'm telling you this because the more people there are who know, the less we'll have to fear in the future should the Federation crumble and Cardassia decide to make slaves of us instead of clients."
Kakix's jaw kept clenching itself tighter. "Oh yes, your people have
so much to fear from the Cardassians. Its not like you've been making yourselves useful to them."
The gardener raised his neck a bit. "I'm afraid I don't follow. Do you mean that-"
With a furious shriek, Kakix grabbed him by the shoulders and hoisted him up, banging him against the stone wall and digging his claws into the prosthetic skin of his shoulders. "I MEAN THAT
YOU FRAMED THE STARFLEET VISITORS!"
The gardener wriggled like the slime-covered fish he truly was under all the plastic surgery, but quickly regained his cool. "Yes. Yes we did. Could you please put me down, Hierarch?"
"Why should I?" Kakix pushed his jaws within centimeters of the gardener's face. "In fact, why shouldn't I kill you right now?"
"What would have happened had we not acted, friend Kakix? Would you have ever gotten your empire? Would you have even stayed in power this long, with your warriors chomping at the bit for glory without an external enemy in sight while the rest of the populace grew accustomed to peace? You could have picked a fight with the Yrillians, perhaps, but how would that have gone for you without Cardassian support?"
Kakix narrowed his eyes, realization setting in. "It wasn't just you and the Cardassians. You couldn't have known we had Federation visitors that quickly. One of the other Hierarchs helped plan it."
The gardener nodded resignedly. "Yes. I'm not going to tell you which one though. Could you please put me down?"
Slowly, Kakix acquiesced. The gardener fondled his shoulders where the Hierarch's claws had pierced the skin. "You needed the Federation to be your enemies. You need Gretaran tribute, and Cardassian support, to keep your people in luxury and your war fleet larger than the Yrillians', and you could have never gotten it unless your people had a convincing
casus belli. And we need you as well. The balance of power with the Cardassians is
precarious. A captain of theirs defects to the Federation, and they shut down their entire diplomatic channel for months, leaving us to fend for ourselves. They give us duranium, dilithium, and plasma torpedoes one day, and leave our freighters to aliens
they provoked the next."
The gardener shook his head, and gave Kakix the first really earnest gaze that he had ever seen from him. Kakix's own eyes fell to the filthy floor.
"Everyone benefits from the current arrangement. But that arrangement won't last if we clients don't have contingencies of our own, and the Cardassians decide to see how far they can push. My people have the intelligence network. Your people have the armies and warships."
There was a long, tense silence.
"Take this data package. You can reveal its contents to the Triumvirate, or keep them to yourself, as the situation demands. We trust your judgement, Hierarch."
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A/N: thanks to
@Simon_Jester for the "songbird and cuckoo" title.
