Frustrated, Keeve disconnected the comm, deciding to wait until later to place another call. But he'd said all that needed to be said on the subject, and he doubted anything would come of it. It might someday prove beneficial to be on the Federation's radar, but then, it had been fifty years since the Federation was here last, and they had done nothing to help Bajor in all that time. Keeve himself had kept in touch with a few Federation people, who had tried to learn something of the Cardassians in the Valo system. The reconnaissance had eventually gone awry, thanks to a single blunder on the part of a teenager named Ro Laren, and Keeve had lost touch with those people. He shook his head, remembering the past version of Ro Laren, the little girl who had single-handedly managed to sever his ties to the Federation. Strange, that it had been Ro to connect them once more, just these few days ago. In his wildest dreams, he would not have imagined that she would have gone on to join the Federation, and yet, there she had been, wearing the uniform of Starfleet.

It was thanks to Ro that her Captain Picard had managed to come through in an ugly situation with a resistance fighter named Orta, an accomplishment that had surprised Keeve not a little. Keeve had thought he'd seen the last of that girl just before she'd run away-and there was a part of him that wished he had had seen the last of her. In all his life, he had never met a more volatile teenager than she had been. If she was going to be the person to represent Bajor to the larger galaxy, Keeve had serious reservations that anything useful could come of it. No, he decided, as he left the old hangar, it would be unproductive to invest any hope in this situation. He had not given up hope entirely-but he seen the last of her. In all his life, he had never met a more volatile teenager than she had been. If she was going to be the person to represent Bajor to the larger galaxy, Keeve had serious reservations that anything useful could come of it. No, he decided, as he left the old hangar, it would be unproductive to invest any hope in this situation. He had not given up hope entirely-but he had had given up hope in any possibility of rescue from the United Federation of Planets. given up hope in any possibility of rescue from the United Federation of Planets.

Gran Tolo walked along the Bajoran side of the Promenade, keeping his eyes out for anyone who might pose a threat. There were the Cardassians, of course, but there were also the more insidious enemies: Bajoran pickpockets and collaborating snitches, and, of course, the shape-shifting chief of security. Today, though, it was the shape-shifter that Gran sought, for he'd received a message from a resistance cell that insisted the so-called constable could help them.

Gran stopped in front of a shop that sold used clothing and rags, trying to look inconspicuous while he waited for the shape-shifter. He picked up a lone shoe from a rack of mismatched odds and ends in front of the little store, pretending to inspect it though he had no need for a single shoe, and even if he had, he couldn't have afforded it-very few Bajorans could have. This shop was almost certainly a front for something else, but whether the Cardassians endorsed it or not, Gran didn't know. It was difficult to trust anyone in this place.

He dropped the shoe as it began to shimmer in his hand, and he took a step back, realizing that he'd just been examining the chief of security.

"Hello." The shape-shifter addressed him in a slightly condescending manner. Gran swallowed.

"I'm Gran Tolo," he said uncertainly. The shape-shifter's expression suggested that Gran was about to make a terrible mistake.

"How very nice to meet you," the shape-shifter said with a trace of irritation. "I'm a very busy man, Mr. Gran, and I'd appreciate it if you'd inform me as to why you've asked to see me."

Gran dropped his voice, so nervous he couldn't remember exactly what he was supposed to say. "I'm bringing you a message from the resistance movement on the surface."

Odo looked more annoyed. "I have no interest in the goings-on of the resistance movement," he said sharply. "My job is to maintain order, not foster chaos. Is it possible you have me confused with someone else, Mr. Gran?"

Gran shook his head, though he feared that very possibility. He was beginning to panic, still unsure of what it was he was supposed to say. "I'm sorry, sir, it's just that I was told you might sometimes help...certain Bajorans." Bajorans."

"I could arrest you right now for that implication," Odo said, and as he spoke, his hand extended, became a tentacle that wrapped itself around Gran's wrists. Gran pulled, but he found the restraint to be impervious to his own strength.

"Kira Nerys!" Gran blurted, remembering at last. "That's the name I'm supposed to tell you! She said you-"

Odo hesitated for a brief moment, and then the tentacle unwound itself from Gran's hands, melting back into an arm. The shape-shifter spoke. "I will speak to Kira," he said, "but I will not speak to you."

"I can give you a communication code," Gran said, not sure if it was yet prudent to feel relief. "She's expecting your call."

Odo's tone was not quite so nasty now. "You will accompany me to my office."

Gran was still nervous, but he knew he mustn't falter now. The resistance movement depended on him, and if this plan could be carried out, it would strike a significant blow to the Cardassians. It was worth the risk of a few hours in the brig-or worse, really. He reminded himself of this repeatedly as he followed the constable back down the Promenade, and toward the security office, hoping hard that he wasn't about to find out what the inside of a cell looked like.

Dukat had been up all night in ops; there had been a situation down in the fusion core-an imbalance in the reaction chambers that threatened to blow out the entire ion energy network, if not for the quick thinking of the chief of engineering. Perhaps too quick, Perhaps too quick, Dukat thought. Dalin Kedat's talent for keeping Terok Nor functioning at optimum levels seemed exceptional, but Dukat sometimes wondered if he succeeded in creating that impression merely by surrounding himself with lesser men, who, while not incompetent, were certainly far less efficient when not under Kedat's direct supervision. Dukat thought. Dalin Kedat's talent for keeping Terok Nor functioning at optimum levels seemed exceptional, but Dukat sometimes wondered if he succeeded in creating that impression merely by surrounding himself with lesser men, who, while not incompetent, were certainly far less efficient when not under Kedat's direct supervision.

But while the initial crisis was resolved with relative ease, investigation into the cause led to Kedat's discovering evidence of sabotage in the generator control system, necessitating an all-night search for more signs of tampering. Odo was of course called in immediately, and Dukat wound up virtually chained to the ops situation table as he spent the night monitoring the progress of the enineering and security teams. In the end, the cause was found to be a time-delayed software virus, one that apparently had been entered into the system months ago and remained undetected until it suddenly went active. Purging the system of the malicious code would be relatively easy, according to Kedat. Finding the saboteur after so much time and turnover would be next to impossible, according to Odo.

Dukat was thoroughly exhausted when a call came through from Legate Kell, demanding privacy. Dukat reluctantly climbed the short staircase to his office, letting the doors close behind him and experiencing the persistent ache of a restless night as he seated himself behind his desk.

"Legate," he said.

"Gul," the Legate replied, seeming excited enough about something that he scarcely noticed the resigned rudeness in the prefect's tone. the Legate replied, seeming excited enough about something that he scarcely noticed the resigned rudeness in the prefect's tone. "I have lately been thinking a great deal about the current treaty with the Federation. This will give us a chance to re-direct some of Cardassia's resources to the B'hava'el system. It will require careful planning on your part, to see that those resources are utilized properly." "I have lately been thinking a great deal about the current treaty with the Federation. This will give us a chance to re-direct some of Cardassia's resources to the B'hava'el system. It will require careful planning on your part, to see that those resources are utilized properly."

Dukat was insulted; he scarcely needed the Legate to point out his job to him, and it stung him that nobody seemed to recall that he himself had suggested a Federation treaty some time ago, with this very result in mind. But he merely smiled. "Of course."

"I strongly advise you to reorganize the Bajoran cabinet. With more troops in place on Bajor, you will have the opportunity to finally improve the situation on your host world. But unless you give the Bajorans some indication that you actually mean to change your policies-"

"My Bajoran cabinet has been loyal and effective," Dukat interrupted. He had no desire to replace Kubus Oak or any of the others-not now, and not ever. He had always assumed that when those fools finally died off, it would be best to just leave those seats empty, or fill them with Cardassians.

Dukat had lately come to consider the bigger picture of the Bajoran venture, extending much further than the span of his life. When the older generation of Bajorans-those who actually had some memory of their world before the annexation-died out, Cardassia would begin to enjoy full-scale success on this world. In the meantime, they would have to continue to put down Bajoran revolts as they emerged, developing better weapons if they could, and occasionally accepting minor setbacks. But in the end, it would all prove worthwhile, he believed, for the next generation of Cardassians, who could expect to colonize this world permanently. The Bajorans would fall in line once they began to accept the natural superiority of Cardassian ideals. Of course, Dukat could not put voice to his prediction, for he knew that he might not live to see it come true-and it would never come true if the Detapa Council accused him of buying time to cater to his own agenda. No, the civilian government wanted immediate results, without recognizing the long-term benefits of waiting for larger returns on their Bajoran investment. Dukat believed that those returns could be tremendous, but they would require patience, something that had always been in short supply at the Detapa Council.

"Secretary Kubus is the most loyal and effective Bajoran I'll ever meet," Dukat said. "I have no desire to replace him with someone who is likely to ply me with radical ideas-or worse, stab me in the back."

"If you recall, you once told me that Basso Tromac was also loyal and effective-and he disappeared, didn't he?"

"He was likely killed by someone in ore processing with a vendetta," Dukat said, though he feared another possibility. Of course, it was true that Basso's disappearance had occurred right about the same time that Nerys had slipped from Dukat's careful grasp...but he preferred to think of that incident as little as possible.

"If your Bajoran adjutant could be murdered on your own space station, the crime so perfectly covered up as to provide neither body nor suspect, then you may wish to reconsider your level of control there," Kell said. Kell said. "Perhaps you need a new chief of security, as well." "Perhaps you need a new chief of security, as well."

Dukat glowered in response. "The shape-shifter does a better job than Thrax Sa'kat ever did," he said. "Besides, the last thing we want is for Odo to fall sympathetic to the Bajoran cause. The best place for him is here, where I can keep an eye on him."

Kell snorted. "Keep your shape-shifter, then. But I stand by my recommendation for a new cabinet. You would do best to simply execute the current Bajoran officials. Accuse them of disloyalty, and then make a public spectacle of it. You could then ensure full cooperation from whoever replaces them." "Keep your shape-shifter, then. But I stand by my recommendation for a new cabinet. You would do best to simply execute the current Bajoran officials. Accuse them of disloyalty, and then make a public spectacle of it. You could then ensure full cooperation from whoever replaces them."

Dukat straightened out his features. "I will consider it," he said, though he had no intention of doing any such thing; he was merely hoping to get rid of the old man so he could get some sleep. His wish was quickly granted, as the legate signed off, and Dukat wasted no time in alerting the duty officer in ops that he would take no more calls for the day. He had already decided against paying a call on his newest Bajoran mistress, though the relationship was very young and she had already proven a bit petulant; there were times when sleep took precedence over virtually everything else, even for the prefect.

The woman could speak to him only via voice transmission, but Odo still felt quite certain that it was really her. It had been the sound of Kira's voice that had finally brought her identity back to him those few years ago, had made him remember the incident at the Bajoran Institute of Science. It was there, in Mora's laboratory, where he had first heard the sound of her voice, from the tank where he regenerated. He had experienced a strange, unfamiliar desire to listen to her voice, to be near her. He remembered it well even now, as he spoke to her on his computer console from Terok Nor.

"So, will you help me, Constable?"

"I don't know," he said. "I still don't understand why you've come to me."

"Because!" she said, clearly exasperated. she said, clearly exasperated. "You helped me before, Odo. I trusted you then, and I want to trust you now. I believe that ultimately-despite your position, I mean-you are on our side." "You helped me before, Odo. I trusted you then, and I want to trust you now. I believe that ultimately-despite your position, I mean-you are on our side."

"I'm on nobody's side," Odo said firmly.

"If that's true, then why did you help me before? Why not just arrest me?"

"Because," he said, not immediately sure how to follow it up. "I...suppose I regarded you as an individual, in need of help. It wasn't your cause that provoked my sympathy, it was just...it was just..."

"What?"

"I don't know," Odo said. He really didn't know. It was true that he had helped her once, and it was therefore true that he had helped the Bajoran resistance movement once, too. But he'd been much less experienced then. He had been reacting to his immediate circumstances without thinking through the consequences.

"You're lying," the woman said. the woman said. "You knew the Cardassians were wrong then, and you know it now." "You knew the Cardassians were wrong then, and you know it now."

"Do I?" Odo said, trying to sound threatening, but it fell flat.

"Yes, you do. You're not one of them, Odo. You're one of us."

"What does being one of 'them' entail, exactly?"

"It entails being...evil. Being a thief. A lazy, bullying thief. You're not like that."

Odo had the distinct sense that she was trying to manipulate him with this kind of talk, but the trouble was, it was working. "No," he finally said. "I'm not like that."

"Then you'll help us?"

Odo nodded, though he knew she could not see it; the nod was more for himself than it was for her. "Yes," he said.

"Good," she said, accepting his acquiescence without ceremony. she said, accepting his acquiescence without ceremony. "Your role is twofold, but most of it will not be in any way out of character for you. The primary thing we need for you to do is to distract Dukat. Do you think you can do that?" "Your role is twofold, but most of it will not be in any way out of character for you. The primary thing we need for you to do is to distract Dukat. Do you think you can do that?"

Odo almost laughed. In fact, it was often all he could do to get rid of Dukat, when the man sought company. "I think I can," he told her.

After the transmission had ended, Odo second-guessed the security of the line. Nobody had been listening, as far as he could tell, but he knew that if someone meant to overhear, there wasn't much he could do. He suspected that Dukat didn't really trust him, despite the man's repeated attempts to strike up confidential chats. Now that Odo had so few allies on the station-Russol was long gone, and Odo had made few friends on the Bajoran side-he had to constantly watch his back. Fortunately, for a shape-shifter, watching one's back was an easy affair.

Why was was he helping this Bajoran woman? Was it simply because he was intrigued by her, the first Bajoran woman he had ever encountered, so long ago at the institute, or did it go deeper than that? He supposed he had never really been able to sympathize with Dukat's perspective, had never agreed with the Cardassian occupation in general, especially not since he had finally begun to understand the many facets of it. And yet, he had continued on at this station, with his job in security, sometimes staying true to his own code of ethics, and occasionally submitting to Dukat's version of things just in order to maintain simplicity and stay beneath the radar of the Cardassians here. Odo didn't want to leave Terok Nor-it came down to that. For he still hoped he would someday learn news of his own people, and he supposed this was the best place in the B'hava'el system to do that. he helping this Bajoran woman? Was it simply because he was intrigued by her, the first Bajoran woman he had ever encountered, so long ago at the institute, or did it go deeper than that? He supposed he had never really been able to sympathize with Dukat's perspective, had never agreed with the Cardassian occupation in general, especially not since he had finally begun to understand the many facets of it. And yet, he had continued on at this station, with his job in security, sometimes staying true to his own code of ethics, and occasionally submitting to Dukat's version of things just in order to maintain simplicity and stay beneath the radar of the Cardassians here. Odo didn't want to leave Terok Nor-it came down to that. For he still hoped he would someday learn news of his own people, and he supposed this was the best place in the B'hava'el system to do that.

But now he risked it all-and why? He did not believe that it was strictly out of loyalty to whatever imagined relationship he had with Kira Nerys. No, it went deeper than that, he supposed. While he had often told himself that it had nothing to do with him, he had pretended often enough that he did not notice the disparity between Bajoran and Cardassian. Maybe now it was time to do something about it.

Cardassia City was atypically bleak and overcast. In the old times, it was said that portions of what was now the Western Hemisphere had been dotted all over with thick, lush forests, heavy with rainfall. But an atmospheric calamity of uncertain origin had let to centuries of drought, and the forests had all been shortsightedly cut down. The soil beneath the fertile canopy had, after a single generation of unsustainable farming, withdrawn from deep, silty black topsoil to the parched sands that were so well-known beyond the periphery of the cities. Desert now, where it had once been rain forest.

If only my ancestors had known better, Kutel Esad thought to himself. The dense, verdant forests that had once existed on Cardassia Prime were all but forgotten. Historians and archaeologists had an inkling of what the old landscape had looked like, and of course, the Oralians knew-because it was described in the Recitations. But most modern Cardassians were entirely unaware of the paradise their planet had once been. Kutel Esad thought to himself. The dense, verdant forests that had once existed on Cardassia Prime were all but forgotten. Historians and archaeologists had an inkling of what the old landscape had looked like, and of course, the Oralians knew-because it was described in the Recitations. But most modern Cardassians were entirely unaware of the paradise their planet had once been.

Esad walked for a long time, making his way through the city's orderly sectors, navigating the tangled streets until he came to a particular residential neighborhood. Esad had been to this part of town only a few times; most of his business was conducted in the center of the city, and he lived in the area where the Paldar Sector met Tarlak, near the headquarters of the Obsidian Order.

Here in Coranum Sector, with its old, stately, and grand houses, Esad found the residence he was looking for, climbed the many steps to the front entrance, and knocked politely. He was greeted almost immediately by a servant of the Reyar family.

"I have business with Yannik Reyar," he said, and the servant, a young man, stepped aside with a deferential bow. Of course the family's staff would all have an idea of what sort of "business" was conducted by Yannik Reyar, though it would have been unheard of for an agent to actually make a showing at his own residence. Still, Esad had no doubt the servants gossiped among themselves about any unknown visitors. Little did they know that an agent of the Obsidian Order worked among them-in fact, Reyar himself did not even know it.

Esad was greeted in the foyer by Reyar after a short time. He was a tall man with carefully trimmed hair and expensive clothes. His job came with a great deal of risk, and for that, he was well paid. He scrutinized Esad with a quizzical look. Reyar and Esad had never met, at least not in person, and no doubt Yannik was trying to place him from the scattered communiques that had been delivered from the office of Enabran Tain in decades past.

"Do I...know you?" Reyar finally asked.

"Sir, I am here as a friend, to give you information regarding your daughter."

Reyar's face darkened. "My daughter," he said softly. "Perhaps you had better come with me." He gestured down the hall to a darkened, windowless chamber, surrounded on all sides by stacks of isolinear rods and old-fashioned books. Esad surmised this was Reyar's personal office.

Reyar closed the door behind him, and Esad sat down, wasting no time in getting to the point. "Mr. Reyar, I know you have been looking for your daughter for some time, after she failed to make her scheduled appearance at the University of Culat..."

"It was Dost Abor," the man said, without hesitation. "No matter what lengths the Order has gone to to cover it up, I know it was Abor." He struggled to keep a handle on his obvious rage. "You are going to tell me that it was her lover, whoever he was, but I am no fool, sir. I know it was-"

"I am here to confirm your suspicions," Esad said. "Indeed, Dost Abor is responsible for your daughter's death."

"Her...death..." Reyar said, sinking deeper into his chair. For a terrible moment, the man could not speak, and as the shock wore away from his face, he fought tears, fought them valiantly and in vain. Esad expected this reaction, but he had not prepared himself for it. He looked away, giving the man a moment to compose himself again.

"So," Reyar said, choking on his words, "you have come to betray your colleague. Do you do this for revenge? Has the man done something to you, Mr...." he stopped, realizing that Esad had not introduced himself.

"No," Esad said. "In all honesty, Mr. Reyar, I come to do what I believe is right. I acted as adjutant to Enabran Tain for many years, and I was often forced to do things that compromised my own values-for what I perceived to be good reasons. But the ultimate fate of your daughter is something with which I cannot come to peaceful terms. I felt that perhaps...in at least letting you know of her true fate..."

"You could absolve yourself?" Reyar's tone indicated that he did not think so.

Esad hesitated. "Something like that," he said. It was true that Kalisi Reyar had tried to betray Astraea's location, but Esad himself was partially responsible for dragging Kalisi into the matter in the first place-for it was he who had brought her to the facility at Valo VI, the first time Abor had questioned her. For his role in it, Esad had always felt unsettled, that there was still a loose end that he could never hope to reweave.

There was a silence. Seeing the anger that was now replacing the other man's sorrow, Esad thought he'd perhaps do best to leave. But before he stood, he added one more thing. "You may recall that Dost Abor was stationed at Valo VI for many years," he said. "But that is no longer the case."

"No?" Reyar said, looking expectantly to Esad for the rest.

Esad wasn't sure if this was the right thing to do at all-in fact, he suspected it was not. But something within him insisted that he do it, whether to shift the blame away from himself, or whether he still had too much of the vengeful agent in him, he did not know. "You see...I put in a recommendation for Abor...that he be moved from Valo VI, and my praise has finally come to fruition for him. He is stationed right here, on Cardassia Prime," Esad said. "In fact, he lives in the Coranum sector."

"Here?" Yannik whispered. "The man who murdered my daughter is a stone's throw from my own home?"

"Yes," Esad said, keeping his own voice low. "He has assumed a new identity for his current post, per the orders of the new Obsidian Order head."

"A fool," mumbled Reyar, and Esad silently agreed with him. Not everyone could be the genius Enabran Tain had been. Tain was not a good man, that was absolutely certain, but he was a brilliant man.

"Dost Abor now calls himself Ran Lotor," Esad went on. "He is posing as an educator."

"Ran Lotor," Esad repeated. "I don't know him."

"Well," Esad said, standing up, "he will not be difficult to find, especially not for a man with military resources at his disposal. Perhaps you would like to go and...introduce yourself?"

Reyar stood as well. "I think it is a fine idea," he said.

Esad did not linger, not only because he wanted to leave the man in peace, but because he was still not entirely comfortable with what he had set in motion today. As an Oralian, he was committed to a certain set of beliefs, but as a Cardassian, sometimes his personal feelings overwhelmingly overrode them. Esad was no stranger to this conflict, for his entire profession put his faith in constant compromise. As the servant let him out, he had to be satisfied with remembering that he was a complicated man, as all men were, and that his own personal feelings regarding a matter might sometimes take precedence over what he knew was right-and that sometimes the things he knew to be right could directly contradict each other. Today, he had chosen to act as a Cardassian.

20.

Odo was making his regular rounds on the Bajoran side of the Promenade when another man fell in step with him, somewhat more conspicuously than Odo might have liked. He told himself there was nothing suspicious about having a friendly chat with some random acquaintance, Bajoran or Cardassian-though he was sure Dukat would have preferred that he keep his friends in the latter category.

The man spoke under his breath, which Odo felt made their interaction all the more noticeable. "Kira tells me you have agreed to speak to me."

"Yes," Odo said shortly, trying to remember this man's name. He thought it was Gran. "Let's do this quickly. I have other matters to attend to this evening."

"At the start of his shift tomorrow," the man said, "The chief of engineering is going to be implicated in some black-market dealings with a Bajoran here on the Promenade."

"Dalin Kedat?"

"Yes." Gran was impatient, though he struggled to maintain detached politeness. He seemed far from comfortable with this arrangement. "You'll arrest him and somehow make the charges stick. Kedat is one of three people on the station, including yourself, who have access to the surveillance feeds from the computer core, and we need him out of the way. After you arrest him, Terok Nor is going to start feeling very cold to the Cardassians."

"You're sabotaging the environmental control system," Odo surmised.

"For starters," Gran said. "It's going to look like a malfunction. We laid the groundwork for that aspect of the plan yesterday."

"How?"

"That doesn't matter-"

"It matters to me me," Odo growled.

"Fine!" the Bajoran hissed. "We used the environmental control interface for the Ferengi's holodecks-bribed him to look the other way for ten minutes. Satisfied?"

Odo scoffed at the revelation of Quark's involvement in the scheme, but very likely the Ferengi didn't even know what the Bajorans were up to; the better to profit while maintaining plausible deniability, as he had done with Kira. "Go on."