Ghemor tuned in with heightened interest.

“Gul Dukat is to make an announcement to the Bajoran people regarding their government; they will be told that the current members of the Bajoran cabinet are to be dismissed. Those outgoing cabinet members will bear the brunt of Bajoran frustration, as it will be made clear to the people of Bajor that these ineffective politicians are to blame for their current complaints. A small group of Bajorans shall be chosen to lead the new government. This group will be carefully hand-picked, by the prefect and myself, although every effort will be made to establish the appearance of democratic process for the benefit of the Bajoran people.”

A mock election, Ghemor mused. By Kell’s logic, if the Bajorans believed they were electing their new leaders, they would be appeased enough to halt their uprisings. But Ghemor had his doubts as to the effectiveness of the plan. The Bajorans were a put-upon people, short on loyalty and long on suspicion. Cardassia could never hope to win their trust. It was the heart of the reasoning behind the Detapa Council’s repeated insistence that the Bajoran situation be reassessed, and though most members of Central Command were not supposed to be in agreement with that opinion, Ghemor felt very strongly that pulling out of Bajor was the only sensible solution.

Kell’s announcement continued. “Upon taking office, the new government will declare that any member of the Bajoran resistance who is willing to turn himself or herself in to the authorities will be granted a full pardon, reliant on cooperation with the authorities.”

Ghemor could scarcely believe that Kell thought this strategy would work. If the new government made such an announcement, the Bajorans would immediately know they were dealing with mere figureheads, powerless leaders who were being controlled by Cardassians. Apparently, Kell knew what was coming from the Detapa Council—the civilian leaders were poised to vote for withdrawal, but this was Kell and Dukat’s final attempt to give the appearance of putting down terrorist strikes before the issue came up for decision.

Kell went on. “Furthermore, the Bajoran people will be told that Cardassia has plans for a full withdrawal. It is my hope that these proclamations will serve to quell the current violence on Bajor.”

Ghemor was surprised, to say the very least, but he immediately knew there had to be more. Kell was too arrogant a man to truly abandon Bajor so abruptly. With the next announcement, Kell proved him right.

“Before Cardassian personnel are redeployed, I will order the placement of several survey units to reassess the current state of Bajoran resources. The prefect assures me that there are still a great many unexploited raw materials left on that world, but that we have been long overdue for a comprehensive survey to determine the capacity of those materials. Depending on our findings, Cardassia will either make plans for a new phase of Bajoran annexation, or we will fulfill our promise to the Bajoran people and make a full withdrawal. For obvious reasons, this assessment is not to be discussed with members of the civilian government.”

Ghemor was furious. Kell was an even bigger fool than Ghemor could possibly have imagined. Did he truly believe that he could effectively placate the Bajoran subjects with his false promises, and somehow avoid greater repercussions when he failed to keep those promises? For it was almost guaranteed that the Cardassian survey teams would find some useful vein of minerals or store of elemental raw materials that would convince the Detapa Council to stay. Even if the findings were meager, Ghemor knew that Kell was not likely to squander the expense of the survey units, nor cause such an indelible stain on his own pride. He would falsify his reports if he had to, for Ghemor knew it was nowhere near beneath him. This was simply a manifestation of a weak-minded man digging his heels even deeper into the Bajoran problem.

The announcement was done, and Kell had signed off. Ghemor considered his options for only a moment before he contacted Gul Russol.

“Gaten,” he said, “I have news. Do you still maintain a…relationship with the Federation?’

Russol nodded, his eyes narrowing in curiosity.

“You will want to get in touch with them quickly. I think I finally have something that we—and they—can use.”

Jas Holza had been deliberately avoiding contact with him, Kalem was sure of it by now. The former minister was uncomfortable with Kalem and Jaro’s insistence that he assist in acquiring the weapons he had long ago promised to help purchase. Kalem had sent many messages to Jas by way of Keeve Falor, who insisted that Holza was getting them—but still, he refused to act.

It usually took several tries to connect with Valo II, but after dozens of futile attempts throughout the day, Kalem had finally managed to do so in the stillness of the cool night. It was late, and everyone else in Vekobet should have been asleep by now—though Kalem knew that nobody would get any real sleep for a long time to come.

A successful call meant that Kalem would reach whoever happened to be in the vicinity of one of the very few working comm systems on Valo II, and that person would either agree to fetch Keeve, or they wouldn’t. This time, Kalem was lucky enough to have contacted someone who knew exactly where Keeve Falor was, and who was able to bring him quickly. Kalem hadn’t waited long before the other man answered his call.

“Falor,” Kalem said, his voice heavy with sorrow. “It’s Kalem Apren.”

“Kalem. I have conveyed all the messages you have asked of me, but Jas Holza still says—”

Kalem interrupted. “I have another piece of news for him. I only wish for him to know that the kai’s son is dead. The Cardassians massacred Opaka Fasil’s resistance cell. The people in Kendra—the people on the whole of Bajor—have sunk into a state of complete despair.”

Kalem heard a sound that could have been interference, or it could have been Keeve Falor sucking a hard breath. “I will pass on the word,”he said gravely.

Kalem had an afterthought. “Just ask him…ask him if he still feels it is too great a risk for him to enter the B’hava’el system.”

There was a pause, and Kalem repeated himself to be sure he had been heard, but Keeve finally answered. “I will relay the message to him, Apren. I hope this accomplishes your objective.”

“If it doesn’t,” Kalem replied, “then nothing will.”

“Kubus! Come to my office at once!”

The gray-haired Bajoran on Dukat’s monitor frowned, his expression grim. “I cannot leave my quarters, Gul. Are you aware that Prylar Bek has committed suicide?”His manner was that of a man struggling to maintain control—a sensation that Dukat was all too familiar with. Reports of more attacks on the surface were coming in by the hour, and the prefect could feel himself coming undone at the seams.

“Of course I’m aware of it,” he snapped. “Do you think I don’t know what goes on at my own station?”

“You didn’t know the grid was going down,”Kubus said.

“Is that an admission?” Dukat snarled. “Did youknow that they were going down, Secretary?”

“Of course not!”The Bajoran cried. “Would you truly doubt my loyalty at a time like this? I am perhaps the most hated man in the B’hava’el system right now, Gul! I can’t even leave my quarters—my throat would be slit by some scheming worker the instant I stepped into the corridor!”

“You should have thought to shift the blame to Prylar Bek, Secretary.”

“The Bajorans on the station have their own ideas about my involvement. Many of them are sure that I am entirely to blame. For the death of the kai’s son! Gul, you cannot understand what it means!”

“I am sure it is difficult for you, Secretary, but this isn’t why I have called. I need to know who among the Bajorans still carries influence—who is an easily reachable spokesperson—”