“I think I’m aware of encounters with two of them,” Jaza said, realizing that Fasden’s tale could explain some of the anomalies about the “vampire clouds” encountered by James Kirk and the Klingons. “Both creatures were ultimately destroyed.”

“That is good. But it does not mean I want to see a new scourge unleashed on the galaxy.”

Jaza could understand her fatalism. The Vomnin’s original technology had been left by a race which had colonized their world while they were still scavenger-gatherers, but which had died out in some ancient cataclysm. Upon learning of the region’s hazards from the settlers’ records, the Vomnin had mastered the remnant technology and used it to found many colonies of their own, most of them far from the Vela Association, to ensure that their species would survive any catastrophe. Along the way they had acquired more technology and knowledge left by other ancients, some destroyed, some regressed to primitivism, others apparently ascended to higher planes. Given the hazards of this region, it was even more littered with such ancient ruins (at least ones younger than several million years, and thus more likely to contain viable technology) than Federation space. The Vomnin had made a career out of harvesting such ruins, building their science and culture on the whispers of the dead. So a certain preoccupation with failure and destruction was understandable.

Another consequence of this history was that the Vomnin had little in the way of religious belief. The ancient settlers had appeared as gods to the primitive Vomnin, but discovering the truth—of their instrumentality and their mortality—had disillusioned them. On their travels they had come across relics of other religions based on beings they knew to be merely advanced civilizations. As a result they were skeptics and secularists, more concerned with making the best of this life than with anything after it. They indulged their Pa’haquel allies’faith in the Spirit of the Hunt, but Fasden had made it clear in private that she saw it as mere superstition.

But maybe that was the key, Jaza realized. “You keep talking about cosmozoans turning on their ‘masters.’ If that’s true, maybe the problem is that they weremastered. Treated as servants instead of equals. Take it from a Bajoran—that kind of treatment has a way of provoking rebellion.

“And maybe that’s why this can work. The Pa’haquel already feel great reverence for the star-jellies. They cherish them as a divine source of life. If we can redirect that reverence toward partnership with the jellies rather than predation upon them, it could help to ensure that they’re treated well.”

“How do you redirect an article of faith? Their divinity is a hunting deity, not one of peace and amity.”

“They allied with you, didn’t they?” Jaza reminded her. “There are as many aspects of the divine as there are believers to behold them. So faith can adapt to suit anyone’s needs. If it couldn’t—if it only applied to a finite number of people—it wouldn’t be divine, would it?”

Fasden looked at him oddly. “I would not have expected such talk from a scientist.”

Jaza smiled. “I think that’s exactly my point.”

“Well? Have you extracted the data?”

Fasden shook her fat-faced head. “No, Hunter Se’hraqua. Their computer security ciphers are extremely sophisticated and rely heavily on biometric identification. A consequence of their recent war, I suppose.”

Se’hraqua hissed in frustration. “I do not care why, Vomnin. I only care about results. We must get that information!”

“There is only so much I can do without attracting suspicion. The information on your skymounts’ sensor signatures has been encrypted, no doubt to guard against precisely what we are trying to do.”

“Yes, yes, I do not need one of your lectures.” Had the smug intellectual not been an ally, and would it not have drawn the attention of Titan’s security, Se’hraqua would have been sorely tempted to give her a head start, hunt her down, and rip her throat out. It would be a satisfying release for this frustration, this inability to achieve the holy task Aq’hareq had assigned him. The Starfleeters were being unreasonable, determined to keep the Pa’haquel from the sensor information they had given the skymounts—thus giving the lie to their claims of nonpartisanship. All they had to do was share the knowledge, and the Hunt could be resumed, the balance restored. All would be as it was—except Se’hraqua’s status would be considerably higher. If he brought home a prize of this magnitude clenched in his jaws, Aq’hareq would surely reward him with a mount to command and a bride from a high family, perhaps Aq’ha itself. Indeed, since he had a whole line to repopulate, Aq’hareq might even reward him with multiple brides. Fathering so many directly would bring him to high status swiftly, especially with so many noble females to crew his mount and make it strong and swift in the Hunt.

But such triumph was contingent on his retrieval of useful information, and he had run out of ideas on how to retrieve it. His Rianconi servant, Ujisu, had been unsuccessful at seducing the ship’s first officer, science officer and all the others he had propositioned. Perhaps he was not as persuasive as Qui’hibra’s slut Oderi, or maybe the Starfleeters were more protective of this information, seeking to keep the skymounts from the honor of being righteously hunted. And now Fasden, as skeptical of Riker’s plan as he and thus a potential ally, had failed as well. He wanted to command her to dig deeper, but he knew that was unwise. Her inquisitiveness to a point could be interpreted as the Vomnin’s natural desire to scavenge others’ technology, but if she dug too deeply or were caught trying to compromise their computer security, it could expose them to the Starfleeters.

So for now, Se’hraqua’s only option was to watch and wait. As a hunter he knew the value of this, but at least in the Hunt he knew the waiting would culminate in a strike, and possibly the glory of a kill. In this kind of hunt, the hunt for hidden information, he was out of his element. He could see no way to make the strike, to claim the prize. No way to escape the disgraced state Qui’hibra had trapped him in and gain his rightful place as an elder. It made him want to rip something’s throat out. Somebody’s.

“Go. You are dismissed,” he said to Fasden, before he gave into the impulse and did something…indiscreet. Once the soundproofed door had closed behind her, he let out a scream, though it did little to sate his rage. Maybe he should try that holodeck hunting program that the doctor had recommended, though hunting unreal prey would not serve the Spirit and could not ease his soul. Perhaps later he would take out some of his frustrations on Ujisu’s body. Rianconi were always so obliging, and bore a suitable resemblance to the humans, Vulcans and others upon whom he would like to unleash his rage. He could only inflict such punishment up to a point, of course—even Rianconi drew the line at permanent damage—but it should be satisfying.

And perhaps someday, if the Spirit willed, he would be free to do the same to Riker and Troi and not need to hold himself back.

Chapter Thirteen

Christine Vale sat in a corner of the mess hall, nursing an orange-banana smoothie and monitoring the mood of the room. Jaza had been forced to postpone their just-friends lunch date—something she realized she was more disappointed about than she would’ve expected—but she’d chosen to remain in the mess hall anyway and keep an eye on things. It didn’t quite feel right to be essentially spying on her own crewmates, but her peace officer’s instincts died hard. Tensions were high in here right now. Several of the Pa’haquel visitors had gotten together with a number of Titan’s carnivorous crew members, including Ree, Huilan, and Kuu’iut, and were sharing a pair of tables, telling hunting stories in loud voices and laughing raucously. Many of the other crew members in the mess hall, particularly the herbivores, were acting disturbed and uncomfortable. A few minutes ago, Tylith, a Kasheetan engineer, had requested that they lower their voices, but as was usual in such cases, their compliance had lasted only a few minutes. Now Tylith was at a table on the far side of the cavernous room, trying to carry on a conversation but periodically glaring over at the carnivores. Vale expected that her silence wouldn’t last; Kasheeta might be herbivores but they were not known for meekness.