There was a moment of awkward silence while Thrax tried to think of another item of interest. "So...after the next Bajoran council, I think I will try to make a connection with Yoriv Skyl, the Tozhat exarch," he said. "To see if I can discern his leanings."

"A wise idea," Astraea agreed softly, and there was another moment of silence. Their calls always seemed to be conducted this way, ending with strained pauses, loaded with unspoken emotions. Astraea agreed softly, and there was another moment of silence. Their calls always seemed to be conducted this way, ending with strained pauses, loaded with unspoken emotions.

"May you walk with Oralius," Thrax finally said, and she smiled, though she looked disappointed, too.

She signed off with a recitation from the Book. "'To speak her words with my voice, to think her thoughts with my mind, to feel her love with my heart.'" "'To speak her words with my voice, to think her thoughts with my mind, to feel her love with my heart.'" Thrax repeated the words back to her, and she smiled, her eyes closing, as her image skittered from Thrax's screen. He sat back in his chair and paused to reflect, to think exclusively of her for a moment, then he abruptly rose and left the security station, heading to his quarters for the night. Thrax repeated the words back to her, and she smiled, her eyes closing, as her image skittered from Thrax's screen. He sat back in his chair and paused to reflect, to think exclusively of her for a moment, then he abruptly rose and left the security station, heading to his quarters for the night.

Natima's eyes were dry, but she felt like weeping. The transport had already left the station, and there was no looking back now-not that she would have wanted to. Still, she was going back to Cardassia Prime entirely contrary to her appointment. Dalak would be furious with her for this insubordination, but there was simply no way she could have remained on the station, not after what had transpired earlier today.

She was the only civilian on this transport, which had little in the way of elbow room. There was a tiny commissary, small berths, two beds to a room, with a 'fresher that had to be shared-at least for the soldiers. Natima was lucky enough to have gotten a room to herself. Being a woman had a few perks, at least. She rested, as best she could, on the hard berth, and tried to shut her mind to the unhappy events that had unfolded earlier, but it was all she could think of.

Had Quark really believed he could hide from her forever in the microcosm of Terok Nor? She had cornered him leaving his quarters early this morning, and had demanded an explanation-hoping against hope that he would actually have one. But of course, through his pathetic attempts to justify what he had done, Natima saw the truth: not only had he stolen from her, he wasn't even sorry he had done it.

She had threatened to turn him in to the authorities for his dealings with the Bajorans-or the very least, to turn him in for violating her acquisition number. She was going to have to explain it to the accounting department at the Information Service, a task she dreaded almost as much as facing Dalak regarding her sudden abandonment of her assignment. But then, she hadn't turned him in after all-she still wasn't entirely sure why.

How foolish she had been, to trust a man who pretended to have a romantic interest in her-a Ferengi, no less! She could only assume that he had been using her from the very beginning, and yet, she had not even turned him in to save her own reputation. She knew that it was dangerous to draw attention to herself this way. If accounting were to closely examine her acquisition codes, would they find anything that would point to her status as a dissident? Natima didn't think so, but she couldn't understand why she would even consider taking the risk for someone as dishonest as Quark had turned out to be. She supposed she was just a fool, in the end.

She was crying, now, which should have been a relief, but was mostly just a humiliation. She let herself cry softly for a few moments before pulling herself together. She would never go to Terok Nor again, or to Bajor, and if Dalak tried to make her-well, maybe she was done with Dalak, anyway. Maybe it was time to move away from the Information Service. She had long remained loyal to her employer in part because she'd believed that she owed her life's success to the Service. But would it be so terrible, to attribute her success to her own actions? Maybe this was the push she needed to go in another direction, the sign that it was time to move into another phase of her life.

Good-bye, Quark, she thought, and lay down again on the hard, empty bunk, wishing she could sleep.

Vekobet had several abandoned districts that were not beyond the boundary constraints, but they had fallen into ruin in the past twelve years. The desolation was due in part to destruction from skirmishes between Union and resistance forces, and in part to a lack of functioning utilities. But the population was inching toward expansion again, and most of the occupied houses in town were bursting at the seams with extended families. The older districts had to be considered for renovation, for the active portions of the cities were becoming dangerously overcrowded. Kalem Apren was helping to dig an irrigation trench in one of the newly reclaimed areas, having already helped to patch the roofs of three old houses that had fallen into disrepair. He was waist-deep in the muddy ditch when his wife Raina suddenly appeared, out of breath, her exuberance showing.

"Apren!" she cried out. "It's the comm! Someone is calling you-from off world!"

Kalem wasted no time in dropping the shovel he had been using and clambering out of the muddy, half-finished trench. "Excuse me," he cried hastily to the other men, though he did not stay to hear their reply. He raced after his wife through the old streets, stopping at brief intervals so that one or the other could catch their breath, occasionally locking gazes and laughing. Someone had repaired the long-range systems, unless Raina was mistaken, and Kalem knew from her expression that she wasn't.

Panting and gasping, he clutched at the receiver, hoping against hope that whoever had called would still be on the line-it was a good twenty minutes to and from the outlying settlement from where he and Raina had just come-but someone immediately replied to his greeting.

"Apren! It's Jas Holza! What a relief to finally reach you again!"

"Holza!" Kalem exclaimed, hardly able to comprehend such an auspicious occurrence. "It's been a long time!"

"Yes-as you say. And I have good news for you, and for Jaro Essa and all the others."

"Do tell!" Kalem turned to Raina so that she could hear the exchange, both of them struggling to contain their excitement.

"I have been in contact with an arms merchant named Hagath. He is willing-even eager-to sell us some very sophisticated weapons-things that could make a genuine difference in the fight. If you and I pool our resources, and distribute these materials among the right people-"

"Is this a secure line, Holza?" Kalem interrupted.

"Don't worry about that," Jas reassured them. Jas reassured them. "You have said that Jaro has information regarding the whereabouts of the resistance cells on Bajor..." "You have said that Jaro has information regarding the whereabouts of the resistance cells on Bajor..."

"What's left of them," Apren replied, and then quickly attempted to redact his pessimism. "Yes."

"Someone with a warp vessel will have to rendevous with this man somewhere outside the B'hava'el system."

Kalem closed his eyes, trying to rein in his frustration. "That's impossible. Warp vessels under Bajoran control are virtually nonexistent. The resistance uses sub-impulse vessels, but even those have been grounded by a Cardassian detection system that-"

"There must be someone with access to-"

"You mean, besides yourself?"

There was a pause, and Kalem wondered if the connection had been severed before Jas spoke again.

"I can't do it, Apren. The risk is too great. You must find someone in the resistance movement who can get access to a warp vessel. I have been in sporadic contact with this man for over three years now, and I know he will be willing to negotiate whenever we are ready, but someone will have to go to him to make the exchange. He is wisely unwilling to enter Cardassian occupied space. I will appropriate whatever funds I can for this purpose, and I know you will too-but you can't ask me to enter the B'hava'el system."

"If you won't do it, then it cannot be done," Kalem said, with unusual finality. "You can't imagine what has become of the resistance movement on this world."

"This is unlike you, Apren," Jas said. Jas said. "I have been trying to contact you about this matter since the last time we spoke-and I never would have expected to get this reaction, once the message finally got through." "I have been trying to contact you about this matter since the last time we spoke-and I never would have expected to get this reaction, once the message finally got through."

"I wouldn't have expected this from you, either," Kalem said coldly. "But I suppose we've both changed." He hesitated for a moment, exchanging a disappointed glance with his wife, and then he ended the call.

"We found the shape-shifter."

Dukat smiled at the glinn on his screen. "Of course you have."

"You were right, Prefect. It was spotted in another Bajoran village. He has already been ingratiating himself to the locals. It seems he settled a dispute between two men who were accusing one another of burning down a barn, or some such foolishness-" He stopped speaking, apparently realizing that this was more than Dukat had asked to know. He stopped speaking, apparently realizing that this was more than Dukat had asked to know.

Dukat tilted his head in recognition of the acknowledgment. "And you've made no contact with him, is that right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, I want you to withdraw as much as possible without losing sight of him entirely. Give him time to establish himself. A month, perhaps. Then you'll send in some of your men, to recruit new workers for Terok Nor."

"And we bring in the shape-shifter with them?"

Dukat regarded the glinn's pedestrian thought processes with mild distaste. Unable to see a step past the next. "Absolutely not. You will make it clear to Odo that he is not required on the station. But you'll also be sure he understands what happens at Terok Nor. That ships from all across the quadrant come here for trade and diplomatic purposes. And that as a...visitor, he would be welcomed here."

"What if it doesn't choose to accompany the new workers?"

"Oh, he'll come here. Perhaps not right away, but he'll come."

The glinn's confusion was apparent, although he was too well trained to question a superior. Dukat considered explaining it to him-that they might be able to catch and cage Odo, but that winning him, besides being infinitely more satisfying, was also their best chance to actually keep keep him. A glance at the office door stilled his urge to enlighten the dull man. Glinn Trakad stood there, a sweaty sheen to his forehead. The subordinate looked deeply unhappy as he tapped the door signal. him. A glance at the office door stilled his urge to enlighten the dull man. Glinn Trakad stood there, a sweaty sheen to his forehead. The subordinate looked deeply unhappy as he tapped the door signal.

News he doesn't wish to deliver. Dukat gestured him in, commending the ground soldier once more before signing off. Trakad held a slender box in his hands, what appeared to be computer equipment of some sort. A portable relay drive, perhaps.

"Yes, Trakad."

"This is from that sensor tower in Dahkur." The soldier looked ill.

"And...?" Dukat prompted.

"This was not a malfunction, sir. This was an attempt at sabotage. The surface inventory reports confirmed it. Several unaccounted-for flyers have been recorded leaving the surface, but no flyers have actually left. They were Bajoran ships, sir. There is a single capture of the saboteur's face-a Bajoran."

A close shot of a young redheaded woman's soft face snapped on, her expression absolutely intent, her eyes filled with fear. The capture had been taken a second or two before she'd fled for the woods, Dukat imagined, scampering away like some small, wild creature.

Dukat turned away from the screen, away from Trakad. And smiled. She was still alive, then-and as beautiful as her mother had been, though in a different way. Strong, where Meru had been fragile. The nerve it must have taken, to climb that tower, to dare such a blatant offense. It was outrageous, of course, totally unacceptable, but while he condemned the action, he could not help but admire her spirit, the foolish bravery of the young and romantic.

Still, I had hoped she would not continue down this road...

"Why haven't you contacted the engineer who designed the system?" he asked, turning back to Trakad. "This suggests that the detection grid is not working as it was supposed to."

"I have tried, sir. But it seems that no one can locate her. You dismissed the director of the institute, and their record-keeping system has been in quite...a disarray since she left. You did not immediately appoint a sufficient replacement, and-"

Dukat sighed heavily. It was no wonder that the man looked as though he'd swallowed broken glass. Nobody wanted to deliver news to the prefect that indicated the prefect had made a mistake. He finally turned around. "Well, then. We will have to send someone else to repair it, won't we?"

"I have already done it. Our chief of engineering assures me that he has overseen a complete recalibration, and everything is now functioning properly."

Dukat raised his forehead expectantly. Why then, did the man still appear to be so uncomfortable?

The soldier cleared his throat with some difficulty. "But...but the signals in Dahkur remain as confused as before, sir. More unauthorized ships reported taking off, and the anti-aircraft system fails to lock on to them-"

"Suspend all air traffic in Dahkur," Dukat ordered.

"Shall we shoot the raiders down manually?"

"No," Dukat said quickly, thinking of young Nerys. "Get me Basso Tromac," he ordered. Basso was the only one of Dukat's adjutants that knew the full extent of his interest in Nerys and in the rest of the Kira family. Basso would have to redouble his efforts in Dahkur right away. Dukat dismissed Trakad, and thought again of Nerys, wondering what she hoped to accomplish, wondering if he could somehow lead her away from the terrorists, to teach her to be a proper citizen of a Cardassian host world, before she got herself into real trouble. He had little spare time, of course, but he felt it was the least he could do for Meru's only daughter. Such a lovely, lovely girl deserved better than to huddle in the forest like a wild animal.

OCCUPATION YEAR THIRTY-EIGHT.

2365 (Terran Calendar)

13.

Kira fought to keep her own terror in check as she rifled through the belongings of the chemist. She still could not entirely believe that she was here, on Terok Nor, a place most Bajorans would have done anything to avoid. It had been a hasty decision to come-a dangerous one-but this was an opportunity that could mean a significant advance for the resistance. It was long believed that Dukat employed a small, secret network of informants, and Kira was currently right in the den of one of them-the one who served as their direct link to the prefect. Vaatrik Drasa owned this shop, and he could walk in any minute and find her...

There were hundreds of things that could go wrong here. Coming to Terok Nor was easily the biggest risk Kira had ever taken-bigger even than Gallitep. But when the Shakaar cell caught word that there was a way to get someone on the station-and back off again-Shakaar had insisted that they had no choice.

Tahna Los had wanted to go, originally, but the Bajoran man who came to the Shakaar cell with the intel insisted that a young woman would be viewed with less suspicion. It was as though the assignment was made for her, and she'd been quick to volunteer. It was an opportunity they couldn't afford to miss.

So do it, already! Kira moved faster, looking through Vaatrik's files, her fingers scrambling over his keyboard, looking for anything, anything. The man who had arranged for her to come here had insisted that there was a list somewhere in this shop. A list of eight collaborators, who were scattered all over Bajor. Take them out, their informant had insisted, and over half the Cardassians' intelligence infrastructure would fall apart. Kira moved faster, looking through Vaatrik's files, her fingers scrambling over his keyboard, looking for anything, anything. The man who had arranged for her to come here had insisted that there was a list somewhere in this shop. A list of eight collaborators, who were scattered all over Bajor. Take them out, their informant had insisted, and over half the Cardassians' intelligence infrastructure would fall apart.

She left the computer running a search and stood, considering the jars of herbs, powders, and drugs that lined the walls. She searched for some clue that one of them contained more than it seemed to, then checked her chrono. If Shakaar's informat-the man who'd gotten her onto the station-had done his job, Cardassian security would still be busy with the explosion he'd caused down in ore processing. But she didn't have time to search every jar! She had to get out of here soon, but would she get another chance tomorrow?

"Who are you?" someone demanded, and Kira took a step back, turning, her thoughts racing with the thunder of her heart. Vaatrik had caught her.

"Hello," she began, wondering with some doubt if she could try to seduce him. "I'm-"

"I'm calling security, unless you explain yourself right away." The Bajoran went for his comm, but Kira drew her phaser, reacted before she'd thought through the greater implications-and Vaatrik fell to the floor with a crash.

"Oh kosst, kosst," she whispered. She had just killed Vaatrik, and the door was wide open for anyone to see. Had he signaled for security? She had to get out of here right now. There would be no other opportunity, for this shop would be swarming with Cardassians in moments, and then she would never get off this station alive. She had failed.

"Rom!" Quark was in a foul mood when he opened his door. "You're supposed to be tending bar!"

"Frool is watching the till, Quark. I have to tell you-"

"Frool is not family, Rom. You get back there right away."

"But, brother-"

"No buts, Rom, Frool is probably robbing me blind even as we speak!"

"But, brother, there's a Lurian in the bar."

Quark's mood worsened. "Well, get rid of him!"

"But...brother, he's really...big. And...hairy. He says his name is Morn."

"All Lurians are big and hairy, Rom, no matter what their names are, and they're also bad for business." He waggled his fingers like a squawking puppet. "Jabber jabber jabber. Find someone to deal with him. Maybe you could plant something on him, get him arrested. Now that Thrax is away, it should be easy to concoct a simple frame job." Find someone to deal with him. Maybe you could plant something on him, get him arrested. Now that Thrax is away, it should be easy to concoct a simple frame job."

"Yes, but, brother-"

"Maybe I should get in touch with that Tarulian trader I did business with last year. We've got to make the best of our opportunities while Thrax is off the station."

"But, brother-"

"What did I tell you about buts buts?" Quark shoved his brother out into the hall.

"But, brother!" Rom shouted, just before Quark could slide the door closed. "There's a new chief of security now!" Rom shouted, just before Quark could slide the door closed. "There's a new chief of security now!"

Quark scowled. "What did you say?"

"There's a new chief of security now."

"I don't believe it," Quark muttered, and grabbed his jacket. "Come on, Rom. We're going to the bar. I'll take care of this Lurian of yours."

A new chief of security? Quark hoped his brother was mistaken-it certainly wouldn't be the first time his fool-headed brother was wrong about something. Quark wasn't sure if a new chief was going to be a bad thing or not. He'd just gotten Thrax sufficiently broken in, really. A new chief might be too quick to make assumptions about a Ferengi businessperson. Assumptions that might be correct, but that was exactly the problem. At least Thrax always gave him the benefit of the doubt, pretended that his race had no bearing on his likelihood of being a suspect for any particular crime. A new security chief might not feel quite the same way.

Rom continued with his blithering as the two made their way down the corridor of the habitat ring and onto the Promenade. "It's true, brother. Yesterday Dukat hired someone else, to look into a murder investigation."

"I'll give him a murder to investigate," Quark muttered.

Rom ignored him. "He's not a Cardassian, the new chief. He's a shape-shifter."

Quark wasn't quite listening as the two entered the bar, and he noted that the Lurian in question was indeed big, possibly the biggest Lurian he had ever seen. He sat at the far end of the bar, his massive bulk heaved over a single staggering barstool. Poor barstool. As to his hairiness, well, Quark was less alarmed about that than he was about the bigness, but it did make him seem especially menacing. He was talking up a couple of unwitting Cardassians seated near him at the bar.

In an instant, it dawned on Quark what his brother had just said. "Wait, what did you just say about the new chief of security?"

"Uhhh...he's a shape-shifter," Rom said.