Jau adjusted the smelter’s temperature, ignoring the echoing groans and wails all around him. He drew his forearm over his brow, wiping the sweat away, when he noticed that the system of conveyor belts that delivered the ore to the smelter had stopped, and the overwhelming noise that usually accompanied it had ceased as well. It took his sluggish mind a moment to register what was going on, and he looked around, his heart fluttering. Something must have gone wrong with the artificial intelligence system, though in all his time at Gallitep, Jau could not remember that happening, even once. No, it had not happened since the accident, which had occurred before Jau had been brought here. An alarm began to tear through the hollow caverns of the mines, indicating a systems failure—the mine was to be evacuated at once. Jau’s breath froze in his lungs; was this going to be Darhe’el’s method of disposing of him, and everyone else here?

Before he could think further on it, he was instantly swept up in a crush of panicking Bajorans. Jau began to run, drawing on reserves he didn’t know he had, pushing and stumbling until he found himself stepping out onto a wide dirt road that curled down from the very top of the pit all the way down here, just a few linnipates from the bottom. He was immediately aware of the heat—more than just the heat from the hot, midday sun that he was accustomed to; it was from a fire, somewhere not far below him. Something burned and scorched with chemical brightness at the base of the pit, sending up great plumes of toxic smoke. Jau began to scramble up the gravel road, trying to get away from the flames below him, but he encountered so many confused Bajorans, he could not get far. The road was packed with people, crying out in panic. Finally, Jau came to the road’s widest point, and realized he could go no farther. He would have to wait for the crowd to thin out, which he suspected would not happen before they were all murdered here, en masse—for it seemed logical to Jau that this was really it—Darhe’el’s final solution had come.

He looked up once, panned the miserable and frightened faces of the crowd that surrounded him, and did a double take. There was a girl standing there, a Bajoran, and he could have sworn that she wasn’t there before. This girl did not look like she belonged here. She looked like one of the younger ones that might have been brought in many months ago, but Jau wasn’t aware of any new workers coming in for some time. And there was something else about her too…There was a bulge at her hip, underneath her tunic, and Jau felt certain he knew what it was—this girl carried a phaser. She caught his eye and moved closer to him, shoving her way through the tight press of gangly limbs and exposed rib cages, bruised beneath too-tight skin.

“Don’t worry,” she said to him, and suddenly, he did worry—he found he still had the capacity to worry, even after feeling mostly nothing for such a very long time.

Ro had not expected to feel so conflicted as she warped back to Valo II. She had been on and off the Ferengi freighter in less than ten minutes; the entire operation really had been as easy as Bis had said it would be. She kept reminding herself of the wonderful, risky, and brave thing she had just done, but the thoughts were not quite resonating within her, and she was eager to find Bis and hear his reassurances.

Still wary of landing the valuable warp ship on her own, she left it in orbit of Valo II, hoping that Bis would be able to retrieve it later. But she could not immediately find him once she materialized on the planet’s surface. He had implied that he would meet her near the landing field when she returned, but she was back much faster than expected, and she did not know where he could be. She went to his house, but he wasn’t there, so she wandered the dusty, tightly packed village, asking those people who bothered to look up as she walked by. It was in the center of the crowded town that she encountered Keeve Falor, the old politician she’d met those years ago with Bram. She did a double take as he passed, and he stopped to regard her.

“You look familiar to me,” the man said, stepping back as he tried to place her.

“I’m Ro Laren,” she said, feeling suddenly as sulky as her younger self.

“The little girl from Jo’kala?” Keeve mused. “Is that right. What are you doing here?”

“I’m helping Bis with something,” Ro said. “Akhere Bis.”

Keeve immediately looked alarmed. “Helping Bis!” he exclaimed. “Tell me he hasn’t recruited you for that foolishness with the alien ship?”

Ro wasn’t sure if Keeve was talking about the plan she had just undertaken, but since he seemed not to approve, she supposed she’d better not confirm her involvement. “I haven’t decided if I’m going to help him,” she lied.

“Prophets help us,” Keeve said. “Bis is young and reckless—he doesn’t understand the great cost that would be suffered by destroying Terok Nor. Thousands of Bajoran lives…It simply doesn’t make sense, to sacrifice what we are trying to preserve.”

“If those lives buy millions more, maybe the sacrifice is worth it.”

“Is that how your resistance is going to save Bajor?” Keeve asked in disgust. “Using arithmetic to decide who lives, and who dies? That isn’t what the Prophets teach us.”

Ro felt a flash of anger at the sanctimonious mention of the Prophets. “At least…at least it would be doing something to fight the Cardassians, instead of hunkering down on this world like a coward, hiding here where they won’t trouble you, and letting them do as they please with Bajor!”

Keeve studied her a moment. If he was angry, she didn’t see it; he only looked tired and sad. “Perhaps to you, I seem a coward,” he said, after a moment. “But I know that when the people on this world still listened to my advice, we were learning things that could have brought the Federation in to aid us in our struggle. We had warp vessels, we had trade relations with other worlds. But that is changing, and the people here have begun to grow impatient. We’ve lost most of our warp ships, and we have to rely on charity from others within this system for our very survival. We’ve fallen out of favor with the Federation, especially since the unfortunate incident that occurred on Valo VI. The Federation once had a lot of questions about what that little group might have been doing there, and I suppose now they have much less of a chance of ever finding out.” He looked at her very pointedly when he said it, and Ro felt a strange thing, a thing she thought might be guilt.

Troubled, Ro looked past Keeve to see that Bis was approaching her, his face unable to contain its excitement. Sensing that Ro was done with him, or wishing to avoid confrontation with Bis, Keeve moved on down the road, toward his own residence.

“Is it done?” Bis asked her eagerly, and Ro gave him a single nod, her head feeling heavy. This time, she did not respond when he grabbed her tightly, lifting her nearly off her feet.

“We have to celebrate,” Bis said. “Come with me, we’ll have spring wine at my friend Lino’s house.” He gestured toward a dwelling not far from where they stood.

“We did a good thing, didn’t we?” Ro said.

“We did a brilliant thing,” he said. He laughed out loud, a picture of jubilation.

“And…the people on the station…”

“What people?” Bis said, beginning to walk.

“The Bajorans,” she said. “They’ll…walk with the Prophets? Is that what you believe?”

Bis looked puzzled. “That’s right,” he said, but his voice sounded a little less excited now. He stopped walking. “Come on, Laren. Just think. We’re going to be responsible for killing Gul Dukat! Gul Dukat and Kubus Oak, all their henchmen. We’re going to destroy Terok Nor! Do you have any idea of the significance of it?”

“Yes, I know,” Ro said. “But Keeve Falor just told me—”

“Forget Keeve Falor!” Bis said, and he sounded angry now. “Just wait—once Terok Nor is really gone, once the prefect is dead—Keeve and the others will see that I was right.”