“And what do you think, Gul?” Verin asked. The old man had seen the slight tic as Kell spoke of his masters; but then, the alien wouldn’t be the first soldier to chafe under the commands of his civilian masters.

“I am a humble servant of the Cardassian Union, no more. I follow my orders, gentlemen, and today those orders are to extend the hand of friendship to Bajor.”

“You’re talking about trade,” said Jas, a wary note entering his voice.

“Our planet wants for little from other worlds,” said Verin abruptly. “We need nothing from Cardassia. The Prophets granted us a home that fulfills all our needs.”

Kell nodded toward Kubus. “Some feel differently, is that not true? Bajor does engage in commerce with other worlds throughout this sector.”

“It would be more accurate to say that our colonies do,” corrected the First Minister firmly. “We export very little. And what does come from offworld to Bajor herself does so in only the most limited quantities.” He glanced away dismissively.

Jas saw the Cardassian look at the other alien at his side, the one wearing the plain tunic. At first Jas had thought it was another male, but when it spoke he realized abruptly that she was a female of the species. The shapeless, unflattering uniforms the Cardassians wore did nothing to highlight the differences between their sexes. “Are you not curious about what other races may have to offer Bajor?” she pressed. She gestured at the food. “Clearly, your generosity shows youhave much to offer others.”

“You are too kind,” Verin replied, but his smile never reached his eyes. “Hospitality is a core tenet of our culture, Professor Ico. The Prophets tell us to treat all visitors with respect…no matter what their origins.”

“And we thank you for it,” Hadlo ventured, saluting with a nod of his head.

Jas put down his goblet and looked directly at Kell. “Gul, I think you are pressing us to ask a question that you would like to answer. You spoke of bluntness, so why not be blunt, and say what you wish to?” He ignored the glare Verin shot him.

There was the briefest glimmer of irritation on Kell’s face, a hardening of his jaw, and then it was gone. “Perceptive, Minister Jas, very perceptive.” He nodded. “Very well. We have seen your vessels, craft like your scoutship Eledaand the frigates that greeted us on our arrival in the B’hava’el system. What if I told you that Cardassia has technology that could double the speed and range of those craft? New advances in deflector shield technology, spiral-wave disruptors far more powerful than the energy cannons you currently employ. Is that not something you would find useful?” Kell indicated Colonel Coldri and Captain Jaro across the room from them. “I imagine your military officers would find such devices of great interest.”

“And you would demand much in return!” snapped Verin.

“Bajor’s wealth in minerals and foodstuffs is quite apparent,” noted Ico.

The First Minister’s eyes narrowed. “We have been careful to ensure that our planet has remained in balance for thousands of years. To begin taking more than we need from her would upset that equilibrium.”

Jas rubbed his thin beard. “Admittedly, swifter starships would be of use to us. Our settlements on Golana, Valo, and Prophet’s Landing would benefit. It would bring them closer to us.”

Verin sniffed with contempt. “The people on those worlds chose to leave the safety of the homeworld, Minister. If they have put themselves at a great distance from Bajor, then that is a matter for them. They should not be coddled.”

Jas said nothing; Verin’s platform among the Council of Ministers had always been an isolationist one, and he had never made a secret of his disdain for Bajor’s colonial efforts.

“You are proud of your world, and rightly so,” allowed Ico. “Would you not consider the merit of giving your planet greater security?”

“Bajor has made no enemies,” Verin retorted. “We are not an expansionist people. We keep to our own borders, unlike other species.”

Unbidden, Jas’s hands tightened into fists. He thought of his scoutship, of all his vessels out in the void. Better technology might have saved the crew of the Eledafrom their ignominious deaths in deep space.

Kell looked across the table at the First Minister, ignoring the old man’s thinly veiled insult. “And yet, one need only examine a starchart to see that your sector lies between the frontiers of a handful of alien powers.” He waved a hand at the air, as if he were taking in the space all around them. “The Breen Confederation. The Tzenkethi Coalition. The Federation. Even the Tholians or the Talarians might find their way here.” Kell smiled coldly. “None of them would be as good a friend to Bajor as Cardassia.”

Ico nodded. “It is well known that the Federation has designs on expansion into this area of space.” She looked to Hadlo for agreement. “I doubt that if they came to Bajor they would do it out of respect for the souls of your dead.”

The cleric hesitated. “The United Federation of Planets is a largely secular nation,” he said finally, with distaste.

“We are aware of that,” Verin bristled. “We have no dealings with them.” A grimace formed on his lips. “They…do not approve of our societal structure. They consider our D’jarras to be an impediment to our progress.”

“Your caste system,” said Ico. “How like the humans to be so judgmental. It is clear to me that your culture functions perfectly well in a stratified arrangement. Cardassia would never be so bold as to think we could tell you how to run your world.”

Kell’s lips drew back into a smile. “We believe in the partnership of equals.” He met Jas’s gaze. “Is that not the basis of all strong friendships?”

Jas nodded slowly, the image of the Eleda’s shattered hull rising to the surface of his thoughts.

Verin took a careful sip of springwine. “All of Bajor respects what you have done for our citizens,” he said levelly, “and you have our gratitude. But your overtures will find little purchase here. If that is truly why you have come to our world, then your journey has been wasted.”

The rest of the meal continued with awkward small talk and there came a moment when Dukat felt as if he had eaten his fill: not because he had no more room in his stomach, but because after a while the richness of the Bajoran food had soured on his tongue. Glasses of Kubus’s springwine did nothing to wash away the cloying taste, and as the meal slowly drew to a close he found it progressively more demanding to stay in the same room as Kell and the others, watching them chatter and go around in circular conversation. Picking his moment, he excused himself and stepped out of the hall. On their way in, as they had walked the keep’s corridors, Dukat had noticed an arched door opening onto a wide stone balcony, and he strode over to it.

Night had fallen across the planet while the feast had progressed, and the sky was dotted with low, thin clouds. Unfamiliar constellations looked down on Dukat as he wandered to the edge of the battlements. As if it were a reflection of the heavens above, the city spread out below the keep was a mixture of dusky patches of parkland and municipal districts glittering with lanterns. He raised a questioning eyeridge as he spotted faint plumes of smoke issuing up from the streets. His first reaction was to wonder if there was some sort of discord in progress, that those were fires set by malcontents; but he heard no sounds of gunfire, nothing that could be considered violence. On a breath of wind came the faint noises of music and revelers, and his lip twisted. More feasting and carousing? Is that all these aliens do?

The wind brought scents with it as well, and Dukat sniffed at the air like a hunting dog. He detected a pleasant, slightly resinous odor.