Darrah stepped up to the control console. “Change of plan,” he told the Cardassian. “We’re going to Kendra.”

“What am I doing here?” Jas Holza grumbled to himself under his breath as he filed into the Chamber of Ministers, the last man to enter from the atrium outside. The question had too many facets for his liking; it cut too deep, with neither the literal nor the figurative answers to give him any sort of peace. He sat in his assigned place, hollow inside. In the highly polished surface of the steel table before him, he caught a glimpse of his own reflection. He looked like his father; the sudden realization caught him off guard. Yes, in the warped mirror of the shiny surface, he saw the ghost of his parent in the haggard and beaten man that he was, aged before his time. With effort he pulled his eyes up to where the First Minister stood. Like many of the men in the room, Jas was slightly unkempt, having been called from his opulent temporary lodgings in Ashalla back to the chamber in the middle of the night. Only a few—Lale Usbor most obvious among them—looked as if the impromptu meeting was nothing but a minor inconvenience. Jas’s gaze fell on Kubus Oak; all that Jas and Korto had done for that man, and the minister for Qui’al had yet to even acknowledge his presence. Instead Kubus was in quiet conversation with one of his aides. The only man who did meet Jas’s gaze was Keeve Falor. The agitator was stern and quiet. He reminded Jas of a pit-fighter waiting for his next bout. And I? I wreath myself in pity, like an animal walking to the slaughterhouse.

“Colleagues,” began Lale. “My apologies for recalling you at such short notice, but an issue of great import has been brought to my attention, and it must be addressed immediately.”

General Coldri, who even on the best of days could only be described as a man of bleak and forbidding aspect, gave the officer at his side a curt nod. Coldri’s expression filled Jas with dread.

“Major Jaro Essa,” said Lale. “Will you please repeat the information you presented to me before this assembly?”

“Sir.” Jaro had a padd in his hand, but he didn’t refer to it. “Ministers. As of twenty-two–bells, Ashalla local time, the reprisal force under the command of Colonel Li Tarka was logged as overdue for their scheduled communications check-in. Their last known coordinates were close to Ajir, an uninhabited system in the Coreward Marches. Based on data supplied by the crew of a vessel in the employ of Minister Kubus, they were investigating a possible sighting of a Tzenkethi warship, with intent to censure and detain it in connection with the Cemba incident.”

The chamber was silent now, every minister listening intently to Jaro’s flat, emotionless report—every one except Jas Holza, who studied Kubus Oak. Kubus doesn’t have any freighters within a hundred light-years of Ajir.Jas was sure of it; as part of his increasingly unfair association with the man, the minister was privy to some of the Kubus clan’s ship movements. I’m certain of it. But if that is so, then where did he get that data from?

He thought about the scoutships from his own fleet, the Kylenand the Pajul;and Lonnic, dear Tomo, who had remained at his side even when other members of his staff had seen his self-destructive course and left the Korto administration. The tone of Jaro’s explanation caught up with him. What is he telling us?

The major continued. “A short time ago, the detection stations on Andros picked up this signal on a subspace emergency band. Degradation of the transmission indicates that it was under intensive jamming. Only the application of a large amount of energy to burn through the blockade allowed us to receive it. The sending of the message was clearly an act of desperation.” Jaro raised the padd and tapped a key.

Immediately the air filled with the buzzing hiss of a communications channel. The next words he heard made Jas Holza’s blood run cold. “This is Lonnic Tomo…of the Korto District…”Some heads turned to face him. He saw Keeve’s eyes narrow. The static-laced message stuttered, then went on. “…Aboard the Bajorian Space Guard warshipClarion, we are under attack by…Tzenkethi marauder. They have already…killed the crew of theGlyhrond …Cease your attack, please!”

The raw panic in Tomo’s last words hit Holza like a hammer, and he rocked back in his chair, the color draining from his face. “Prophets,” he whispered. “She’s dead.” He gripped the table in front of him, his head swimming. He felt dizzy and sick.

“It would seem that Colonel Li engaged the Tzenkethi without success,” Jaro concluded, the pronouncement a death knell for the men in the reprisal fleet.

A wave of raised voices echoed around the chamber, some in fury, others decrying the destruction. “You’ve brought this to pass, Kubus!” snapped Keeve. “What sort of botched data did you give the Space Guard?”

Kubus blinked, for a moment showing signs of shock over Jaro’s revelation; but in the next moment he was composed again. “I provided only what was asked of me by Colonel Li! What he chose to do with the information was his choice!”

Keeve rounded on Lale. “I was against this so-called task force from the start! A poorly planned operation motivated only by the immediate need for vengeance? Is it any wonder that more Bajoran lives have been lost because of it?” He smacked his fist into his palm. “What is needed is rational thought and measured response, something this administration seems poorly equipped to deliver!”

The argument went on over Jas’s head. He stared at his hands, recalling a time when Lonnic had held them. Many years ago now, when they had been young and both untested; and now she was gone, ripped away in the dark, and he would never see her again. Her directness, her honest counsel, all gone. The only voice that had ever dared to stand up to him, to show him the errors of his ways—and then still to stand by him. “Tomo,” he husked. “Oh, Prophets. Please keep her safe.”

“I am forced to agree with Minister Keeve,” grated Kubus, drawing Jas’s attention toward the man. “In principle if not in language. He is correct when he stated that the task force sent to censure the Tzenkethi invaders was not adequate to the task.” He shot a poisonous glare at General Coldri, which the chief of staff ignored.

“You’re trying to blame this on the shortcomings of the Space Guard?” said another minister, one of Keeve’s supporters.

Major Jaro folded his arms. “The Militia are an arm of the government,” he growled, “and we can only operate to their orders. Would you have us do otherwise? Perhaps martial law would suit you better, Minister?”

“Blame for this must be apportioned…” began Kubus, suddenly trailing off as he saw a runner enter with a message tab for the First Minister.

“Blame,” Jas said in a low voice. “There should be blame.” His hands tightened into fists, his nails digging into his palms. And I must share in it. What have I become?He wanted to leap to his feet and shout the words. An annex for Kubus Oak’s dreams of empire? His willing vassal? And all along Lonnic was warning me, trying to guide me away, and I ignored her. I knew it was true and I ignored her because I was weak!Jas saw the broken pieces of his life falling down around him. All of it had been in service of Kubus Oak’s agenda, not his. The collapse of the Golana settlement and the ongoing loss of the clan’s lands and influence. Oak had clothed it in lies made to sweeten the moment, and he had gone along. Why? Why did I do this? Am I so spineless?

Jas stiffened and made to rise to his feet, the words pushing at his lips; but there was a new arrival in the chamber, and he turned with Kubus and Keeve and all the others to see Jagul Kell enter the room, a cloak folded over his arm.