The reception inside the Naghai Keep was, if anything, more opulent than the gathering laid on for the Cardassians on their first arrival. Dukat ate and drank nothing, feasting instead on his own frosty anger. Not for the first time, he wondered if Gul Kell was deliberately placing him in circumstances that would test the dalin’s patience. The dalin had grown increasingly withdrawn and sullen since his commander’s abrupt alteration of orders. One moment Dukat had been there on the bridge, ready to give the word that would take the Kornaireback home—he had Athra’s face in his mind’s eye, and the reality would be only a day or two away at high warp—and the next Kell had told him to stand down.

How many times had he run the holograph rod through the player since then? How many messages had he sent to his father, to the medical clinic in Lakat, without answer? Every day they remained here was like razors over Dukat’s flesh, the wounds worsened by the silence from the homeworld. Only communications of a military nature.He hated that phrase. And Kell, constantly pushing him and gently mocking him, denying him even a moment to step back from his duties and look to his family. For a Cardassian, it was torture, and Kell knew it.

Is he pushing me to see how much it will take to have me break?There was cold malice in his commander’s behavior. Kell knew as well as Dukat did that now that the Bajor mission was hailed as a success on the homeworld, Dukat would be rewarded for his part in it. The promotion he deserved would finally come to him; and so in one last attempt to spite his first officer, Kell wanted to make Dukat lose his control. He glared at the gul across the chamber. Nothing would make him happier than to sign off my last performance report under his command with a negative rating. I will not give him the satisfaction.

His comcuff chimed, and Dukat raised his wrist to his mouth. “Responding.”

“Skrain?”Although it went against military regulations, although it would have given Kell exactly the excuse to chastise Dukat if he had been aware of it, in sympathy to his plight, Pa’Dar had agreed to do what he could to assist the dalin in keeping lines of communication open to Cardassia. However, for the most part the man’s contacts at the Ministry of Science had been able to give him little more information than the censored government newsfeeds that played in the Kornaire’s common room.

But now the tenor of Pa’Dar’s voice made Dukat go tense. He heard something there that made his bones chill. “Kotan. What is it?”

There was a pause as the civilian tried to find a way to frame his next sentence. “Skrain…one of the adjutants from the medical division was conducting a survey this week, of the fallout from the situation in Lakat. They showed my colleagues records from the clinic…”

The room around him seemed to become hazy and indistinct. Dukat heard the rumble of his blood in his ears, the chatter of the voices merging into incoherence. His boots felt rooted to the spot.

“I’d left some messages to contact me if anything matched…if there were any names…”He sighed. “Your father ensured that the data would find its way to me.”

“Tell me,” Dukat said in a leaden whisper.

“Your wife was released from medical care four days ago. She has made a full recovery.”

“My son?” he demanded.

When Pa’Dar spoke again, it was as if the marble floor of the keep was yawning open to swallow him whole. “The data indicates…an unnamed male child of the Dukat clan perished from complications due to a lack of medical supplies. I’m so sorry, Skrain.”

Dukat blinked and for an instant the haze faded. He saw Hadlo leaving the chamber through the door to the east tower. Then he was moving forward, propelled by a building surge of heat in his chest, a furious anger that shattered the cold cage he had built to contain it. His hands tightened into claws as the raw need for revenge swept away everything else in his mind.

Darrah Mace turned the corner on the lower level of the east tower, grateful for the opportunity to do something as straightforward as a foot patrol. The pomp and circumstance of the reception and the announcement made him uncomfortable. Too many people, too big an area to cover adequately, too much chance that some moron would turn up and make trouble. There had been some posturing on the planetary comnet by a few of the usual suspects, from the crackpots to the more serious activists like the Alliance for Global Unity, all of them decrying the arrival of the aliens; but then there were just as many lunatic postings by people who welcomed the Cardassians, and some in ways that were less than seemly. With Colonel Coldri’s help, Darrah had put on extra security to ensure the offworlders were well protected from both the people who wanted them gone and the ones who wanted to bask in their glory.

Those thoughts fell from his mind when he almost collided with one of the black-armored aliens as he rounded a bend in the corridor. He jerked back with an automatic apology on his lips; then he recognized the face. “Dalin Dukat?”

The Cardassian blinked. He seemed distracted. “Constable Darrah.”

Something rang an alarm bell in Darrah’s mind. The seasoned lawman’s sense for people was giving him a warning, but it was difficult for him to map it to the alien’s body language. He didn’t know the Cardassians well enough to be sure, but there was anger in Dukat’s eyes. He looked as if he were moving with purpose, and the intention behind it was not a benign one.

“I’m looking for the cleric. Hadlo.”

Darrah nodded. “He passed me a moment ago. Going up to the guest chambers, I think.” He moved slightly so that Dukat couldn’t simply walk past him. Darrah frowned and took a chance. “You’re walking like you have a quarrel with the man.”

Dukat’s eyes flashed, and Darrah saw a wary mask drop into place over his expression. “I need to speak to him.”

In that moment, Darrah knew his instincts were correct. “Well,” he said, “don’t let me stop you, then.” He didn’t move, and Dukat stepped out to pass around him. “Strange, though,” Darrah continued. “Pardon me if I’m wrong, but you don’t strike me as the kind of man who’d spend much time at temple.”

Dukat took a few more steps and hesitated. “I’m not. I have unfinished business with the cleric.”

“Right.” Darrah watched him carefully. “Unfinished business.I see that kind of thing a lot in my line of work.” He chuckled dryly. “I guess you could say it’s kind of a flaw in the Bajoran character, if you get my meaning. We’re a passionate people, you know? Sometimes we get so angry about things we lose focus on everything else. Especially when it’s a matter of unfinished business.” The constable shook his head. “We hold those kinds of grudges forever.”

For a moment, he thought the Cardassian was going to say something to him. Instead, the alien turned away and walked up the stone steps to the upper tiers. Darrah blew out a breath, his hand over the phaser in his holster. If they kill each other, does that count as a diplomatic incident?

The door slammed open and Hadlo looked up from the flask of water on the table before him. He put down the half-full glass and presented the intruder with a smile.

“Dalin Dukat. Here you are again. You’re making a habit of this.” In the next second the insouciant expression on the cleric’s lined face was gone as Dukat’s hand clamped around his neck. He was forced to the window of the chamber, air tightening in his lungs. “What are you doing?” he wheezed. “Release me!”

“My son is dead because of you,” The other man bit out the words with icy, quiet fury. “You think you can play with people’s lives like pieces on a game board? What gives you the right?”