Darrah grimaced. “The man has no shame,” he said quietly. “This is a funerary ceremony, not a podium in the Chamber of Ministers.”

“He’s a politician,” Karys replied. “It’s what they do.”

Mace was disgusted at Kubus’s opportunism, turning the day to his own ends, using the service as a platform for his agenda. Grim-faced, he led his family past.

“There must be a reprisal,” Kubus was saying, “and with the people’s support I have convinced the First Minister and the government for exactly that—” He caught sight of Darrah and changed tack. “It is because of men like Inspector Darrah Mace that many more lives were saved…”

The camera pod turned in midair and trained a lens on Mace and his family. The controlled anger on his face flashed across newsfeeds planetwide, and for one long second he wavered on the cusp of decrying the politician for his callous grandstanding; but then he turned away. “I’m taking my family home,” he said simply, and left Kubus and his circus behind. He heard the politician take his brush-off and say something about “grief” and “stress.” Nell’s hand touched his, and he glanced down at his daughter.

“I don’t like that man,” she told her father. “I don’t think you should talk to him.”

“You’re right,” he replied. “Come on. Let’s get out of this place.”

The transmission was authentic, and the fact that it had been sent without her authority made Lonnic Tomo furious. She gripped the padd in her hand and strode swiftly down the corridors of the keep; the hard manner she displayed made certain that none of the other staffers dared to stand in her path or waylay her. Lonnic tore open the door to Jas Holza’s chamber, an accusation on her lips; but instead she saw something that made her fury jump tenfold. Kubus Oak was sitting on the ornamental couch by the window, helping himself to a generous glass of springwine.

He sniffed. “Doesn’t your adjutant knock before she enters a room, Holza?”

Lonnic glared at her employer, who seemed thin and tired, pressed into the depths of the chair behind his desk. The surface of Jas’s workspace, what had once been such a model of efficiency and care, was now a mess of padds, printout flimsies, and other detritus. It mirrored the man’s manner these days, untidy and directionless.

“Tomo,” said the minister, “I’m in conference. Can this wait until later?”

“No, sir, it cannot,” she replied, gathering back her momentum. She ignored Kubus and stepped forward, placing the padd down on the cluttered desk with a snap. “This communiqué was in the comm traffic stack. A signal to the commanders of two of the clan’s scoutships.”

Jas didn’t look at the padd. “I know what it says, Tomo. I wrote it.”

“Did you?” she asked, shooting a look at Kubus, the question slipping out before she could halt herself. For a brief moment, Lonnic saw a flash of the old Jas Holza, irritated by her inference; but then it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. With a nearly physical effort, she clamped down on her emotions and took a breath. “Sir, why didn’t you consult me on this? In my opinion, this is a serious misstep—”

Kubus made a bored noise. “Is it necessary for a minister of the Chamber to ask the opinion of his adjutant on every single matter? Do you pass your eye over every communiqué, over every little bit of text?”

Lonnic kept her gaze on Jas but answered Kubus. “This is hardly a minor matter, sir. It bears further scrutiny!”

Jas looked away. “It’s done, Tomo. It’s what was necessary.”

Necessary.The word echoed in her thoughts. The contents of the communiqué were a terse set of orders for the best-equipped scout vessels in service to the Jas clan’s prospector fleet, giving them the coordinates for a rendezvous a few light-years distant from Bajor. The two ships were to meet with two more vessels, a pair of heavy assault ships from the Space Guard under the command of Li Tarka. Their mission was to scour all the star systems within a globular search perimeter for any signs of Tzenkethi raiders, utilizing the powerful Cardassian-made sensor gear mounted on the prospector ships. Jas had ordered his own civilian crews to join a reprisal fleet.

Kubus sipped the wine. “We cannot let the Cemba incident go unanswered. It was our failure that allowed these good people—”

Lonnic rounded on him, interrupting. “Yes, Minister, I’ve already heard that speech once today. I saw the newsfeed.”

“Then you understand the seriousness of the situation.”

“What I understand—”She stopped; she was on the verge of shouting. With a breath, Lonnic moderated herself and started again. “What I understand is that your rhetoric, Minister, has pressed the council into making a rash and ill-considered decision!”

Kubus arched an eyebrow. “Is that right? The First Minister seems to think otherwise, as does General Coldri.”

“Coldri’s a pragmatist. He’s only going along with this because you’ve left him with no choice,” she retorted. “If he disagrees, he will look weak in the eyes of the public.” Lonnic stiffened. “You’re expecting civilians to go out looking for a fight, against an enemy that we’re not even sure was responsible!” She glared at Jas. “And you’re letting him do it.”

Kubus put down the glass. “Of course the Tzenkethi are responsible! Oh, I don’t doubt the Coalition will deny it to the hilt, but we know their kind, and so do the Cardassians! They’re animals…Force, swiftly applied, is all they understand.” He sat back. “We will show the flag, let them know Bajor is not a soft target for their picking. Colonel Li is a fine soldier. He won’t shrink from this.”

Lonnic shook her head. “I cannot believe what I am hearing. What happened to due process, to a court of law? Are we just leaping to revenge? Is that how we make government on Bajor in this day and age?” Her hands contracted into fists. “This isn’t the Era of Republics anymore, Minister Kubus! We’re not city-states warring against each other with swords and bows, swearing pacts or vendettas over the smallest slights! We’ve grown beyond that!”

The other man shook his head and glanced at Jas. “Holza, how can you manage with such a naïve woman on your staff?” Kubus looked back at Lonnic. “You’re a fool if you think that Bajor has lost the taste for retribution. We may be sophisticated and civilized, but so were we ten millennia ago, and we knew then as I know now, blood can only be paid in blood!”

“I don’t agree,” she bit out. Lonnic could feel the moment slipping away from her. She felt as if the floor beneath her feet were turning thick and muddy, swallowing her up. She had no purchase here, nothing to grab on to. It’s done.Jas’s words resonated in her mind.

“I’m sorry, Tomo,” said Jas flatly, “but I am in agreement with Oak. My order stands. It…it is for the best.”

Lonnic’s hands came together and for a moment she lost focus. He was right; there was nothing she could do now to stop Kubus working Jas as his proxy. She cursed silently. This is my fault,Lonnic told herself. I saw this coming and I didn’t do enough to stop it. Now it’s out of my control.She glanced at her employer and saw Jas for what he had truly become: a puppet, the pawn of a man with a stronger will and a longer view. Tomo had hoped for so long that Jas would one day show the character that she knew he had deep inside, that he would step out of the long shadow cast by his late father. But instead, he had slipped back the other way, retreating under the coattails of the charismatic and strong-willed Kubus, taking the easy path.

I can’t do anything here.The words formed in her thoughts, and against the dejection she felt a sudden flare of hope. “I can’t do anything here,” she said. “That’s clear to me now. But I can serve a purpose out there.”

Jas’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”