6

Dukat was exhausted when he disembarked at the docking ring of Terok Nor. The funeral had been spectacular, one of the biggest Cardassia Prime had ever seen. Dukat had expressed polite condolences to Gul Darhe’el’s family, but he secretly felt that the whole thing had a certain ostentatious crudeness about it. Darhe’el was hardly worthy of such an honor, and regardless of his character, there were some Cardassians, Dukat among them, who felt that death was a solemn occasion, not the appropriate time for garish displays. Darhe’el’s family apparently felt differently. Gul Darhe’el, rot his petulant soul, would certainly have approved.

The funeral had been tiresome, and his few days at home had been less than peaceful. Athra had brought up the idea of moving to Terok Nor yet again, a topic he thought they’d closed long ago. A military ore processing station was no place for children. She knew that, and if she was so lonely, she might be a bit more welcoming when he did get time away, might make an effort not to argue over subjects long decided—and their bed had been cold for much of his stay. The bittersweet pride he usually felt upon seeing how his children had grown had too quickly faded, the lost years telling in their watchful young eyes. Two of them were in secondary training already…Even his habitual visit to Letau had failed to rouse his spirits. He had been bone-weary since before the long, cramped flight back to Terok Nor.

He was greeted, as he filed off the transport ship, by several members of his staff, all vying for his immediate attention regarding every manner of station business. Dukat tried to wave them off, but at least one glinn had news that Dukat knew he’d do best not to ignore: Legate Kell was on the comm, calling for the third time this afternoon.

“He knows how long it takes to travel from Cardassia Prime to Terok Nor,” Dukat complained to Glinn Trakad, as they started for operations. “I saw him on Cardassia Prime not twenty-six hours ago. What could possibly be so important that he needs to contact me before I can even get my bearings after such a long journey?”

The dull-witted Trakad had no answer for him, and Dukat sullenly recalled the loss of one of his favorite aides, Corat Damar. Dukat sorely wished he could find another officer as loyal and agreeable in person as Damar had been, but then, of course, in the end, Damar had chosen his personal life over station business. Enough time had passed that Dukat supposed he was willing to forgive the younger man for it, but the recollection was still irksome.

Kell was waiting for him on the comm when he arrived in his office and put on the lights. The room felt cold and deserted, after only two days, but he heard the environmentals kick on as he sat.

“Legate,” Dukat addressed his superior. “I didn’t expect to converse with you again quite so soon.”

“Dukat, it has recently come to my attention that you have changed religious policy on Bajor,”Kell said. “Again.”

“Ah,” Dukat replied, a smile spreading across his face. “And this…concerns you, Legate?”

“You know perfectly well it does!”Kell snapped. “When you abolished religious counsel in the work camps and placed restrictions on the open practice of the Bajoran faith, I thought it was one of your more intelligent decisions. Now you’ve reversed it. Explain yourself!”

Dukat’s smile didn’t waver. “You have my reports. You’re aware that there has been a measurable drop in terrorist activity since the implementation of the new sensor sweeps.”

Kell scoffed. “A drop, perhaps. But not an end.”

“Restoring the Bajorans’ religious freedom demonstrates that they can only benefit from abandoning the insurgency,” Dukat pressed on. “Besides, I have found that it is useful to give the Bajorans something precious to them, once in a while.”

“Useful?”

“Yes. So I can threaten to take it away again.”

Kell shook his head, his expression conveying annoyed disapproval. “There was a time, Dukat, when you understood how dangerous rampant, unchecked spirituality could be—when you recognized it for the cancer it is, and didn’t hesitate to excise it.”

Dukat’s eyes narrowed. “I have not forgotten,” he said tightly.

“And yet now you’re using the Bajorans’ religious freedom as part of some self-serving strategy, as if running Bajor was a game ofkotra.”

“Violence is down. Productivity is up. If the annexation were indeed a game, I daresay I am winning.”

“But you haven’t won yet,”Kell pointed out. “Cardassia can scarcely afford to risk Bajor’s long-term usefulness on your overconfidence.”

Dukat was growing weary of the conversation. “I assure you, Legate, Bajor is under control. Mycontrol. Will that be all?”

“For now,”Kell said, “But this conversation is not over.”The legate abruptly cut the connection, and the prefect stared at his now-empty holoframe for a moment, imagining the day when Kell would pay for every slight, every obstruction, and every wasted moment he had ever caused Dukat.

That day will come soon,he assured himself. This I vow.

Mora was still flushed with pride regarding the reception Odo had received, though it had been several hours since the Cardassian dignitaries had left the Bajoran Institute of Science. Mora had induced the shape-shifter to take on the forms of several animals, but it was the so-called “trick” he’d done with his neck that had garnered the most reaction. Mora couldn’t quite gauge why the Cardassians had responded as they had, but he didn’t much care. That his work was being considered important was the best outcome he could have hoped for.

Yopal had insisted that Odo be put aside for months at a time while Mora attended to other matters that interested the Cardassians. In the past two years, Mora imagined he had only worked with Odo the collective equivalent of a few weeks. Being idle seemed not to have a physical effect on Odo, but it concerned Mora nonetheless, if for no other reason than that he could not use Odo as an excuse to avoid collaborating on Cardassian projects. But that was probably going to change, now. The occupation leaders, including Gul Dukat himself, had been so impressed with Odo, Mora was now beginning to hope, even to believe, that he might be able to work exclusively with Odo once again.

It was with these cheerful thoughts that he was running his customary bioscans on Odo’s signature tonight, when the shape-shifter assumed his humanoid form and began to ask questions.

“Doctor Mora, have I been here for a long time?”

Mora was a bit taken aback by the question, until he recognized that Odo might not have any concept of what was meant by “a long time.” Ten minutes might feel like a long time to the shape-shifter, or it might not feel like much time at all. They’d discussed the concept, of course, but it occurred to Mora that he’d never actually questioned Odo about his feelings in the matter. “What do you think, Odo?”

Odo looked away from Mora. “I am thinking, Doctor Mora, that I have been here for long enough.”

Mora had to stop what he was doing in order to reexamine and internalize what the shape-shifter had just said. The coordinates denoting Odo’s mass—many times greater than when he could still fit in a handheld beaker, so many years ago—flashed by on the screen of his padd, but it was as though he didn’t see them.

“What…could you possibly mean by that, Odo?”

“I would like to leave this place.”

“Leave?” Mora was so surprised, he laughed. “Odo, where do you presume to go?”

“I am very unhappy here,” Odo replied, and the tone in his voice undeniably reflected it.

“Unhappy! Odo, you have never given me any indication before that you were not happy.”

“Haven’t I?”

Mora took a step back. In a rush, he came upon the uncomfortable realization of what Odo was telling him; the many times that Odo had appeared to be sad, or even hostile. Mora had taken care never to acknowledge those reactions as anything but awkwardness on Odo’s part, a fumbling, perhaps, for the correct response, never to be considered at face value…but in his heart, perhaps Mora had known it. And yet, what could he have done? Odo was his life’s work. Mora had ignored Odo’s misery out of necessity. For a fleeting moment, it filled him with deep shame, but his own sense of self-preservation chased it away.