The Korto Enclave was the first and it was the largest Cardassian holding on the planet; but it wasn’t the only one. The aliens had brought a new kind of prosperity with them, and several city-states were only too pleased to follow the model of Korto in order to have a taste of it. Qui’al, Kubus Oak’s district, had a sizable outpost; so did Tamulna, Hathon, Gallitep, and Karnoth, with the latest zone currently being laid down in Tozhat. Oralian pilgrim ships and Cardassian freighters were a common sight over Bajor, the reptilian shapes of the vessels moving in and out of the docking bays at the Cemba commerce station in high orbit. At the corner of his eye, Darrah saw a shape moving in the sky, dropping toward the port in Korto: a Cardassian cargo lighter. The aliens had been pressing the council of ministers for a while about Bajor’s customs regulations, citing the need to bring their ships straight down to the enclaves instead of passing through local port security. Darrah remained firm on that issue, as did a lot of the ministers in the capital; but he knew that nothing would prevent the aliens from using matter transporters to simply beam materials to the surface if they wished to. And what might they want to deliver that they don’t want us to see?
He shook off the grim thought and angled the nose of the flyer toward the eastern horizon.
Lonnic Tomo’s gaze drifted up to the observation galleries above the forum’s floor, and she was surprised to see there was hardly anyone up there. Certainly, she’d expected there to be correspondents from the media services, but instead there were only a few official faces, security personnel and the like. On her level, in the center of the triangular space that was the focus of the Chamber of Ministers, Kubus Oak was gesturing and talking in that hard-edged, gruff voice of his. Security had been tightened once again, and Lonnic wondered if he was disappointed his performance would not be broadcast planetwide. To say that Kubus enjoyed the glare of publicity was an understatement; he basked in it, and he knew how to use it to his advantage, unlike her employer, who sat quietly before her between Kalem Apren, the minister for Hedrikspool, and the young Militia officer Jaro Essa. Jas Holza kept his own counsel more and more these days. At times Lonnic felt they were just drifting, going where the winds of Bajor’s politicking took them.
“Five years,” Kubus said, the glimmer of a smile on his lips.
“Hardly the smallest blink of time when measured against the great legacy of our civilization’s history. And yet, in that small span, so much has happened to change the way that Bajor sees her place in the universe.” He spread his hands. “I’m not afraid to say that we were in danger of becoming insular. Inward-looking and stagnant. But the Union trade alliance we forged and the clergy’s historic enclave partnership brought new understanding to our planet.”
Kubus walked toward the apex of the triangle, to the short bench where the First Minister and his adjutants sat. Lit from behind by a single thin window that let in Bajor’s daylight, Lale Usbor was the picture of studious, careful thought. He was nodding in all the right places, giving exactly the right impression at exactly the right time. How such an unremarkable man ever made it to that high office I’ll never know.But that was a lie; Lonnic didknow. Lale became First Minister after Verin Kolek’s landslide defeat, and that had been on the back of the pro-expansionist, pro-openness, pro-Cardassian factions guided by Kubus, Jas, and the ministers swayed by the bright-eyed words of Kai Meressa.
Lonnic’s eyes fell on the woman, seated across the forum with several other figures from the Vedek Assembly. Five years, and the time had not been kind to the kai. The vital and passionate priest that Lonnic remembered from the Korto Enclave’s dedication ceremony was a shadow of her former self, pale and drawn, in robes that seemed to swamp her. Once in a while, she would speak and there would be flashes of the old Meressa, but for the most part the kai allowed her adjutant Ranjen Arin to speak for the church. Lonnic looked away. Yerrin syndrome was an uncommon illness and it didn’t kill you all at once. Meressa had promised to continue to fulfill her role as kai for as long as she was able, and for that at least Lonnic was thankful. She couldn’t imagine someone like Arin taking her place. He was too easily swayed by the currents of popular opinion.
“Can anyone deny that our stronger relationship with our Cardassian neighbors has notbeen beneficial?” Kubus was asking. “The aftermath of the hurricanes that struck Musilla Province last year would have claimed many more lives, if not for the advanced medical technology our first responders now possess. We have new sensing systems. Cardassian-designed warp cores give our starships greater reach.”
A man with a shock of dark hair and a thick brow made a derisive noise in the back of his throat; it wasn’t loud, but in the clear air of the chamber it was enough for everyone in the room to hear it. Kubus paused and turned to face the other politician. “Minister Keeve Falor seems to have something to say,” he said, with an arch sniff.
Keeve. Lonnic had heard the man speak several times and had been impressed by his directness and refusal to compromise. She might have been able to admit that she admired the minister a little, if not for the fact that he had become a persistent thorn in the side of the pro-alliance factions. Keeve embodied the character of many ordinary Bajorans, the son of a merchant who had married into a higher D’jarraand used his connections to get him elected to public office. He was a staunch nationalist, adamant that Bajor should be free to choose its own future unfettered by alien influences. Kubus liked to paint his opponent as a reactionary in the mold of former First Minister Verin, as a borderline xenophobe, but in reality Keeve was nothing so unsophisticated.
“You say Bajor has benefited, Minister Kubus,” Keeve replied, “but perhaps it would be more honest to say that the city of Qui’al, the Kubus clan, and their allies have benefited the most. Those technologies of which you speak, yes, they did help our people at Musilla, but where were they during the mine collapse at Undalar? What good did swifter ships do for the colonists who were forced to abandon the Golana settlement?” Lonnic saw Jas stiffen at the last statement, but her employer said nothing. Keeve continued. “Perhaps these circumstances were not given greater priority because they were not interests of yours.”
“Minister Keeve,” said Lale. “That is quite an inflammatory statement. I would be careful to cast such aspersions in this august forum. The issues behind the Undalar accident and the withdrawal from Golana are well documented, and they had nothing to do with Minister Kubus.”
“That, sir,” Keeve said tightly, “is a matter of perspective.”
For an instant, Lonnic’s attention was drawn away by someone moving in the gallery. She saw Darrah Mace enter and take a seat next to another man in a Militia uniform.
“Commander Jekko,” Darrah said quietly, giving the other officer’s hand a firm shake. “Are you well?”
“Inspector,” came the reply. “The Prophets are keeping me safe.” The other man had an oval face with a white stubble of beard and sparse hair. He didn’t take his eyes off the forum below. “How’s Karys and the cubs?”
“They’re good. Not so much cubs anymore, though. Bajin’s growing into a fine example of a moody teenager, and Nell spends my money almost as fast as my wife does.”
“Ah, fatherhood,” said Jekko dryly.
Darrah scanned the room and found Lonnic and Jas. “I miss anything?”
Jekko shook his head. “Kubus Oak preening some. Nothing you haven’t seen before.” He paused. “You still got Proka Migdal on your team?” Darrah nodded. “Huh. You tell him, he gets tired of rubbing shoulders with Cardassians, I’ve got a post for him on my detail. You’re wasting him over there in Korto.”