Try as he might, there was nothing that came to mind, and that disturbed Darrah Mace most of all. The Cardassians said that the charge that claimed the Lhemorhad been placed on board the freighter after it left their star system, and since the ship had been at high warp all that time, the only time a bomb could have been planted was upon arrival in Bajor orbit. But Darrah was sure of one thing. He’d watched the hatches to the freighter open, seen the docking tube extending. No one had entered, and only the Oralians had left. He had come to be sure of that at least. His attempts to follow through on his suspicions were getting him nowhere, however. The Cardassians had been the first on the scene, and ships under the control of Jagul Kell had swiftly tractored away anything that remained of the Lhemor’s structure, claiming it under diplomatic auspices. Now the inspector was here, hoping to find some clue from the men and women who were working up there amid what amounted to the planet’s largest crime scene—perhaps some report of an unusual sensor reading, or a piece of the Lhemorthe Cardassians had missed. But so far, nothing.

Darrah’s hands knitted together. Suspicion prickled the flesh on the back of his neck as if it were a physical presence. It came down to a simple equation in back of the lawman’s thoughts. Something isn’t right here, and I need to know why.

The mutter of conversation from one of the hangars drew his attention, and Darrah’s eyes narrowed at the sight of a Cardassian speaking with one of the ground technicians. Darrah had spoken to the tech earlier; the woman was on the crew of a heavy impulse tug that usually worked the plasma trawlers from the Denorios Belt. Her words became clearer as he approached.

“I can’t help you,” the woman said sharply. “I don’t make the rules, I’m just duty chief on the ground. You want passage, you need to speak to the pilots and captains, and they’re all up there.” She jerked a thumb at the sky. “So unless you want to wait for the next ship down for tanking, you might as well go back to your enclave.” The Cardassian man—Darrah saw now that the alien was one of their civilian types, without the robes of an Oralian or the duty armor of a military officer—made to say something, but the tech cut him off. “Besides, you got enough of your own damn ships in orbit, don’t you? Why can’t you hitch a ride with one of them?” She walked away, ending any chance at further conversation.

The Cardassian turned, frustration on his face, but the expression swiftly changed to alarm as he caught sight of the law enforcer. His eyes darted left-right, as if he were looking for an escape route.

“Are you lost?” offered Darrah. He nodded in the direction of the flyer pads out toward the far end of the port compound. “These are the yards for the interstellar and orbital ships. Atmospheric flyers are over there.”

“I…I don’t require a flyer,” came the hesitant reply.

Darrah studied the alien and a name came to him. “Pa’Dar. You’re the scientist. I saw you with Kell in Ashalla.”

He got a nod in return. “That is correct. And you are Inspector Darrah, yes?”

“What are you doing here, Mr. Pa’Dar?”

The alien shifted uncomfortably. “I should be going, I think…”

“I’m asking because I have your best interests in mind.” Darrah slipped easily into his default manner for addressing suspects. “There are a lot of upset people in the city. People who blame Cardassians for what happened in orbit.”

“It wasn’t our fault,” Pa’Dar replied, but Darrah saw that the response was something automatic for him. He didn’t believe it. After this long working alongside the aliens, he knew them well enough to read the cues of their body language as well as any Bajorans. It was one of the skills that made him a good police officer.

“Why don’t you tell me why you want to go offworld.” Darrah closed the distance between them, making their conversation more intimate, less open. “And why you want to do it without your superiors knowing.”

Pa’Dar schooled his expression, realizing too late that he’d given away something of himself. “The Union’s ships are otherwise engaged, and I merely wanted to see the site for myself.”

A lie.Darrah knew it immediately. He decided to take a chance. Based on what he knew of the Cardassians, their culture was stratified into those in service to the military, the government, and the civilian populace. Each was looked down upon by the group above theirs, and Darrah had no doubt that as a scientist, Pa’Dar was used to being beleaguered by Kell’s men. “Your Central Command hasn’t been very open with its findings, despite what you said in Ashalla.”

There was a flash of understanding in Pa’Dar’s eyes, and Darrah smiled inwardly. He doesn’t trust the answers he’s been given, just like me.

“There’s no error in making a secondary evaluation,” came the reply. “It’s my job to take a closer look at things,” he concluded.

“Mine too,” added Darrah.

Pa’Dar stepped away. “I think I should follow the suggestion I was given and return to the enclave. I do not believe I will be able to do more here.” He inclined his head, his disappointment clearly evident. “Until we meet again, Inspector Darrah.”

“Mr. Pa’Dar. Perhaps when that happens, we might find something more to talk about.”

“Such as?”

“Call it common interests.” For a moment, Darrah considered holding him, but what reason could he have given? He watched the alien thread his way toward the flyers.

Behind him, the chatter of the ground crew picked up and Darrah turned to see them break into motion. It was a sure sign that a ship was coming down, and within moments he saw a dot leading a white contrail out of the sky. It was an oval shuttlecraft with stubby winglets, the kind of short-range impulse ship that plied the spacelanes inside the B’hava’el system. Darrah watched the craft land, noting the symbol on the hull; the ship was one of a few auxiliaries in the service of the clergy, and as such it was exempt from the authority of the emergency bureau. When the embarkation ramp hit the apron, the third man out of the hatch was Gar Osen, gathering his robes in a fist to keep them from flapping in the wind generated by the idling thrusters.

Gar saw Darrah and waved to him. “Come to meet me?” The priest meant the words in jest, but the lawman detected a definite edge of weariness.

Darrah shook his head. “Just passing through.” He glanced over Gar’s shoulder. “Is the Kai with you?”

Gar’s expression saddened. “No. No, Vedek Arin had the pilot take us down over the sea first, so we could take Her Eminence back to the retreat at Calash.”

“Where have you been?”

“Derna,” said the ranjen, indicating the sky. Bajor’s fourth moon was just visible, peeking slightly over the horizon. “A dedication ceremony, nothing more, but the kai insisted on joining us. I wish she had not.”

Darrah nodded. “She’s no better, then?”

“Meressa says the Prophets are testing her,” Gar said in a fatigued voice, “that they are testing all of us. She refuses to be sidelined, as much as Arin would wish it.”

The lawman said nothing. He had known a friend of his father’s who had died from Yerrin syndrome. The old man had not gone easily, lingering for years with the pain as his own blood slowly turned to poison in his veins.

Gar sighed. “Let’s talk of other things. Have you spoken to Tomo recently? She didn’t come to services this week, and she’s seemed more distant than usual.”

Darrah blinked. “You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what? I’ve been on Derna for the last three days. It’s a bit rural up there.”

“Of course…” He took a breath. “Osen, she’s gone. She joined the task force going out to look for signs of the Tzenkethi.”

“What?” Gar blinked in surprise. “What could she hope to do there?”