Star Trek(92)
The question was, what to do about it? It would be easy enough to make some seemingly disingenuous observation that would nudge her sisters’ thoughts onto the right track. She knew them well enough to manipulate them easily. But Navaar was so upset by the betrayals and failures of her allies. How hurt would she be to learn of another betrayal? Maras wanted to spare her that pain, or at least find some way to soften the blow.
But she was no stranger to taking care of matters in secret. It was how she’d survived this long. As soon as Maras had hit puberty, it had quickly become evident that her pheromonal potency surpassed even the considerable power of her sisters, and that had made her a potential threat to them both. She knew that Navaar truly loved her, but Navaar was also a pragmatist and a strategist who would do whatever it took to win, and D’Nesh was merciless and ambitious. Had Maras shown comparable ambition and intelligence in addition to her animal allure, it would have made her too great a threat for them to tolerate.
Fortunately, she had always been quiet by nature. And the traditional, structured education she had been given as a scion of a powerful elite lineage had been boring and limited, not firing her curiosity like the antique books her mother had collected as valuable heirlooms without ever reading, or like the history and art and science she discovered while searching the subspace information networks in her private chambers. So she had been easily distracted in her classes, resulting in poor performance. She hadn’t cared that her distraction was mistaken for a lack of intelligence—not until adolescence kicked in and cultivating that perception had become her greatest survival skill. In the years since, playing the fool had become a kind of performance art for her, a comedy routine for her private amusement, and for Navaar’s in a different way. And often a means to an end. People let things slip in front of her that they’d never reveal to anyone they thought was truly paying attention.
And others’ lack of attention could be quite liberating when there was something she needed to get done quietly.
• • •
Devna stood outside the door to Jofirek’s suite, preparing herself for the detachment she would need to service the ancient Agaron. She could look beyond outward appearance if a bed partner was kind, but Jofirek hadn’t lived as long as he had in his line of work by being compassionate. She knew from prior experience that she would have to retreat some distance inside herself.
But before she could go in, a hand fell on her shoulder. She turned to see Maras standing there. “Mistress!” she said, bowing her head. The last thing she wanted was to provoke a Sister, even one as . . . well, innocent as Maras. Not only did it bring the risk of punishment, but it could prompt a release of the pheromones that Orion females could deploy against rivals, causing Devna a headache or—worse, under the impending circumstances—a loss of concentration. True, Devna was attracted to women as well as men, and thus not generally troubled by another Orion female’s sex pheromones, but the pheromones of active hostility were another matter.
Maras put a finger under Devna’s chin and tilted her head up gently, meeting her eyes. “Don’t. I’ll take him.”
Devna stared, then chose her words and her tone carefully. “Mistress . . . he is very old. He might not survive you.”
Maras smiled slightly. “No. He won’t.” Her hand rested on Devna’s shoulder. “Tell them you had an accident. I wasn’t here.”
The erstwhile spy didn’t understand. Why would Maras want her to take the fall for the death of one of the Sisters’ chief remaining allies? Her breathy voice grew agitated. “Mistress, please . . .”
Maras pulled a data crystal from her cleavage and wrapped Devna’s fingers around it. “Tell Navaar you found this. She’ll understand.”
While Maras was inside the bedroom with Jofirek, Devna went to the terminal in the outer room to read the crystal. It revealed files from Jofirek’s private database, communications verifying that he had tipped off Charlemagne Hua about the Orions’ hormonal enhancement pills and worked with him to steal a supply, in exchange for a share of the profits from the sales of the so-called “Venus drug” that Hua had then reverse-engineered from the pilfered samples. Moreover, there were confidential details about Jofirek’s contacts and the logistics and interconnections of his underworld network—just the kind of confidential information the Sisters would need to take over his operation for themselves. Navaar would reward her handsomely for this information—and congratulate her for the death of a traitor. How had Maras, of all people, gotten this?