A Federation of Fear (part three: the Fearless)
The great limestone doors of the throne room closed behind him, and with them all the honor Councillor Bluk had earned for his clan.
It would be years before he or his successor could open their mouths during Council sessions and be taken seriously. Decades before theirs would carry anywhere near the weight as the word of the other Councillors. If they were very lucky, Bluk's great great grandchildren would only have a little bit of stigma left to overcome. It was no formal reprimand that the Great King had issued upon Clan Far Strider. No accusations of treason or deceit or misconduct. Nothing that they could put him and his kin on trial for to find them guilty or innocent. The Far Striders had already been tried, convicted, and sentenced inside the hearts of the Great King and all his retainers for the crime of stupidity.
Bluk left the royal complex, but he did not return straight to the shuttle that was waiting to take him home. His thanes had all anticipated this, but he would rather not confirm their worst suspicions until tonight, after they had dined and rested. He owed them that small favor, after all that his misjudgement was going to cost the clan. What it had already cost the entire Dawiar people. Instead, he went to the basalt aqueduct that run along the city's outskirts, near the Hall of Honored Guests where he had spent so much time in the last few years. Today, he would not speak to any alien guests if he could help it. Instead, he would walk alone along the dark watercourse and ponder his reflection.
That plan ended when a tall, crimson-skinned biped in a skintight black bodysuit rose like a spindly ghost from the black waters and stepped up onto the pavement.
"You," Bluk said gruffly, barely giving ambassador Iualth the privilege of eye contact.
"Yep. Hello."
"Hmmph. I think this is the first time I've seen you outdoors."
"Probably." The tall, thin, crimson-skinned man (or was it a woman? Bluk had never been sure) shook himself off, spreading the sharp, fan-shaped hackles on either side of his head to dry them. "I usually come out at night. And I usually stay in the water."
Bluk snorted. "Every time you open your mouth, I learn something else that unnerves me."
"If it makes you feel any better," Iualth walked up beside Bluk, still ringing water off of his cartilaginous spines, "I've been terrified since I set foot on this planet."
Bluk slowly craned his head around to look up at the Lecarre.
"Why would I ever not be? You are strong, warlike creatures, Counselor. I doubt there's a healthy adult man or woman in this city who couldn't tear me apart if it came down to it."
"Why," Bluk said slowly, "would any of them do that?"
"I don't know." Iualth spread his hackles to emphasize the point. "If I knew anything important, I wouldn't be an ambassador. But I see the disgust in your people's eyes when they behold the alien among them."
Bluk turned to face the Lecarre head on, fixing him (her? it? whatever) with a smouldering glare. "My people do not pass judgement on such petty things as physical appearance."
"No, they don't. That's one of the many things I love about you. So upfront. So earnest. In some ways, I think I might envy you. But you are right, its not my color, my membranes, or my spurs that disgust them. Its what I've come to represent."
"And whose fault is that?"
Iualth sucked in a deep breath and let it out with a low, rattling gurgle. "The Cardassians, more than anyone. It saddens me that their poor excuse for an intelligence network has tarnished the reputations of their entire people, and my own by association, but there we are."
Bluk actually laughed. Dawiar did not laugh easily, or often, and Iualth actually recoiled at the harsh, unfamiliar noise. "Of course. The Central Command was wrong when they told us the Sarek was a unique vessel and not one of nearly a dozen Federation dreadnoughts. They were mistaken when they warned us that the Caitians were planning to invade as soon as we turned our backs. Someone must have mixed up the paperwork when they told the Great King to his face that the Kadak-Tor had malfunctioned with a Legate's son aboard. Poor, poor Cardassia with its faulty intelligence."
There was a very long, very silent pause. Iualth's fins were half-open as he met Bluk's eyes without flinching.
"Incredible," the Lecarre ambassador finally said.
Bluk raised an eye ridge, still scowling.
"To you, those lies were all insults."
Bluk harumphed. "Maybe NOW you understand why we look at you with disdain."
"Yes, I think so. But perhaps you, too, understand why we admire your people so, even as we fear you."
"Another lie."
"What would I have to gain by lying to you? Besides, as I said, if I knew anything worth lying about, they wouldn't risk putting me at the mercy of an alien species." The two of them stared into the water for a few more moments. "My people bare no responsibility for what the Cardassians told you, or didn't tell you. But for what its worth, I am sorry that your clan has been dishonored for it."
"Thane Toral of the Stone Whispers was right. My clan was wrong to introduce the Cardassians to his Majesty. But now he has sworn an Oath of Fealty to them, and cannot break it no matter how he wishes to. As if our fealty ever meant more to the Cardassians than a gullible, primitive species they could throw under the Federation's wheels."
"I wish I could say you were wrong, Counselor Bluk, but I have no desire to start lying now."
Iualth dipped his bare toes back into the water, sending a tiny ripple across the black surface. "Do you remember what I asked you, my first day in the Hall of Honored Guests?"
Bluk snorted again, turning away from the Lecarre. "Yes. My answer hasn't changed."
"Indeed." Iualth sounded almost sad. "What do you fear? Nothing. You were telling the truth, that day, and had I known your people as well as I do now I would have believed you then."
There was a soft plunk as the Lecarre stepped back into the black canal, letting the water rise up past his armpits.
"I don't believe I will be seeing this world many more times, Councilor Bluk. I will miss you. Have a good evening."
He vanished into the black abyss.
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A/N: I described Lecarre having trouble with the Risan surf in an earlier omake, but I always envisioned them as somewhat amphibious. The fins and hackles don't make much sense otherwise. My interpretation is that they evolved in a wetland ecosystem, and don't do so well with waves and saltwater.
