“They may have, but it looked like they dropped out of warp, probably checking out the raider.”

“We can only hope,” Lenaris said, returning to the bridge from the shuttlebay once again.

“We’re coming up on Pullock V again,” Taryl said. “Looks like the warp signature we’re hiding in came straight from here.”

“Are you sure that’s Pullock V?” Halpas said. “How many planets are in this system?”

“Didn’t you look at the charts, Halpas?” Taryl’s tone was light. “I should have just committed to driving this heap myself.”

Halpas patted the ship’s flight control panel. “Who would keep her company while the rest of you beam to the surface?”

Taryl’s finger was on the sensor array again. “Look, Halpas. Correct me if I’m wrong, but it looks like…the settlement’s beam-shielded.”

Halpas cursed. He hadn’t expected this. A prison camp on a planet in an uninhabited system—why the extra security?

Taryl sounded worried. “We’ll have to take the raiders down, time ourselves against their sensors.”

“We can’t take the raiders,” Lenaris argued. “Two of them can barely hold two people apiece. We mightbe able to squeeze four into the third, but there’s no telling how it’ll behave with that much weight. And it won’t leave any room for Lac.”

“We can do it,” Taryl said, though she sounded less than certain. “We have to. If we can get inside, we can shut down the shield. Then Halpas could use the transporters to get everyone else out.”

Halpas nodded along, more certain by the moment that they weren’t going to survive—and more exhilarated, at the very slight chance that they would. What they were attempting was unprecedented, which was why it might actually work. And they’d have help on the inside, once the prisoners realized they were being liberated.

And it’ll make those spoonheads think twice about who they’re dealing with.

“But—” Lenaris began, but he didn’t finish, apparently realizing that it was the only way. “All right,” he said. “Let’s go below and tell the others. Tiven, you can ride with me.”

“I’m riding with Taryl.” Tiven grinned.

Lenaris rolled his eyes. “Halpas,” he said, “set her in orbit, and stand by for our signal.”

They nodded to him, and headed for the shuttlebay.

“I’ve located the transport,” Garresh Trach announced. “Sensors show it to be docked at Tilar, just where it was reported to have landed.”

“Well, take her down,” Damar ordered irritably. He hadn’t expected Veja’s transport to be anywhere but at the vineyards.

Trach landed the shuttle clumsily, and Damar cursed himself for letting the younger man pilot. He had wanted to exercise his authority by being in command, but Trach lacked experience at everything.

“Do you see any Cardassian life signs?” Damar asked.

“No, only Bajoran. See for yourself.” He pointed out the sensor results. A cluster of readings at the resort, undoubtedly groundskeepers and staff.

“We need better scanning equipment,” Damar muttered.

“We might have more luck with handheld scanners,” the garresh offered. “More precise, though we have to be in close range.”

“Fine. Get me a tricorder, and bring one for yourself.”

“Yes, sir.”

The two men exited their shuttle and surveyed the land around them. The air was thick with humidity, and cool, but the sun was bright and warming. The vineyards were hilly, a wide expanse of land, green like Bajor’s seas, with tessipates and tessipates of leafy vines, creeping up dark wooden stakes that had been driven into the dark ground. The soil beneath his feet was rich and black, the long, spiky leaves that sprouted thickly from the vines rustling in the breeze, their deep green cutting sharply against the charged blue of the cloudless sky. Damar could see why the first Cardassians to Bajor had claimed this spot and why it remained a popular destination, even after the repeated terrorist attacks here in the early years of the annexation.

Veja,he thought, and felt his stomach knot.

Damar examined his tricorder readouts. Still no Cardassian biosigns anywhere nearby. Where were the soldiers? There was a base not a few hours away by skimmer.

He contacted the base, spoke to the glinn in charge—his name was Ratav, and he had a short temper and was not afraid to use it. It seemed that a full half of their surface transports had suffered fuel-line sabotage by resistance hands, only the night before. Ratav’s soldiers were pulling double shifts, and patrols had been rendered effectively useless for however long it took to repair the damage.

“But the situation here—” Damar started, aware that he was risking himself, arguing with a superior, but aware also that his position at Dukat’s side meant that some allowances would be made.

Glinn Ratav obviously didn’t think so. “I’ll be sure, once my working ships come back—after having run patrols for twenty-six hours straight—to send a squadron of my finest, to help you find your female.”

He said it with no trace of sarcasm, but the message couldn’t have been clearer. Damar gave it up, promising revenge another day. It seemed they were on their own, at least for a while.

“We’ll separate,” he told the garresh. He called up a topo map on the tiny screen, traced out two paths that should allow them to cover the most ground. “Contact me at fifteen-minute intervals, unless you come across anything that could help us—anything at all, no matter how trivial.”

“Yes, sir.” Trach extended his scanner and headed off into the seemingly endless stretch of curly vines and wafting leaves.

Damar headed off at an angle, sweeping the scanning device, watching for signs that people had walked through recently. The smell of the air, of warm plant decay, the sounds of insects and small wildlife moving through the brush, all worked to distract him, but he could think only of Veja, of their last words together. He walked over a number of gullies and ditches, with muddy, standing water at the bottoms, swarms of insects hatching from the decaying muck. He came to wider trenches with steep sides, wide enough for a tall man to walk through, lined with flat, interlocking stones and outfitted with metal runners built along the vertical sides. Inserted into the runners were sheets of old metal, twisted and corroded with age. Damar stopped to examine one of them, and understood that it had once been used to dam the drainage ditch, probably during the dry months of summer. The ditch led to the base of a large hillside, where it disappeared into the ground. This irrigation system was extensive, to be sure, but it had run dry for some reason. Perhaps this leg of it had been cut off from the main water source.

He walked for a significant distance before he got anything—a weak biosign that appeared to be Cardassian. He moved the scanner about, watching the flickering numbers, followed its strength on a path that branched from his own. A second biosign had joined the first—they were definitely Cardassian, and there was a Bajoran with them.

“A Bajoran has taken us hostage…”Why had Natima called him, and not Veja? Damar moved faster, tearing through the virulent undergrowth.

He grew closer to the biosigns, drew his phaser—and watched, puzzled, as they started to fade. He reset the scanner and began again, but the readouts were the same, as though he were picking up signals through something, the density of that substance changing as he walked…

Underground.Those drainage ditches.

“Garresh Trach,” he barked into his comcuff. “Lock on to my signal and report to me immediately.”

Astraea was frustrated. She had been so sure that she would find something here in Lakarian City. She had been certain that she would find the original location of the ancient black stone cottage, either by landmark or…

Admit it. You thought you’dfeel it, sense something that would give you direction.After a long day of searching, she was embarrassed by her previous certainty. She had scoured the area, the ruins, even the meager museums that displayed what was left of the Hebitian artifacts—anything that hadn’t been sold off to help fund the military was exhibited here. But of what there was—broken urns, carvings, simple tools—there was nothing that spoke to her in any meaningful way.