The Cardassian bowed to the First Minister. “Sir. I have grave news. Thank you for allowing me to address the Chamber.”

Jas wavered, the energy of his turmoil suddenly dissipated by the alien’s arrival.

“I have been informed of the loss of your ships and their brave crews.” Kell looked solemn. “I only wish that the Cardassian Union could have done something to prevent that terrible sacrifice.”

“We fight our own battles,” said Coldri with hard emphasis.

“What I am about to tell you may force you to reconsider that, General. Pride, after all, must have its limits.” The jagul sighed. “One of my ships has been conducting deep-range scans of stars in the sector as part of a scientific program run by Professor Ico. They detected a vessel, Ministers. A starship of Tzenkethi design, caught by chance in their scan ratios.”

Keeve voiced the question on everyone’s mind. “It’s coming here?”

Kell nodded. “It is. Based on the projected speed and course of the marauder, it will reach the Bajor system in less than five hours.”

Coldri was instantly on his feet and speaking into a handheld communicator unit. Jas caught the words “scramble” and “raiders.”

“I have contacted Central Command and requested the assistance of any Cardassian cruisers in the area, but they will not get here in time.”

“You must have ships here,” said Kubus. “Warships.”

The jagul shook his head. “Only transports and light escorts, Minister. Nothing that is a match for a Tzenkethi marauder.”

Lale nodded grimly. “We will place the planet on full alert, gather what ships we can to form a blockade. If the Tzenkethi come to strike us once more, then we will meet their aggression with all the force we can muster.” He surveyed the room. “I would suggest, ladies and gentlemen, that if you have the means, you should seek shelter for your families and make your districts aware of the threat that now faces us.”

The chamber emptied faster than Jas had ever seen happen before, but he remained in his chair, once or twice buffeted by the figures that passed him, the ministers eager to remove themselves from a building that would most likely be a major target for any orbital attack.

When he looked up he saw Kubus Oak standing across from him, watching him with a measuring gaze. “Holza,” said the other man. “This is a time to be strong, my friend, you understand?”

Jas got to his feet. “A moment ago you were as frightened as the rest of us. Now you seem calm.”

Kubus sniffed. “If the Tzenkethi are coming, they’ll find nothing to shoot at in Qui’al. And what ships of mine are in-system will be gone within the hour. I’ll have little to lose.”

“And you’ll be on one of those ships?” Jas snapped. “To stand in safety and return only when the dust has settled?”

“I can’t have myself put in harm’s way.” He smiled, as if the idea were comical to him. “Think, Holza, think. This, no matter how tragic, is an opportunity. The intelligent man turns that to his advantage.”

“You disgust me,” said Jas.

Kubus’s face turned stony. “Save some of that judgment for yourself, Minister. Don’t let the woman’s death give you some sudden growth of conscience.”

Jas could find no words and glared at the other man in impotent rage.

“Yes,” Kubus sneered. “You may hate me now, but you won’t step from the path at my side. You can’t. You lack the insight to do it.” He came closer and tapped Jas on the shoulder. To any observer, it would have looked like a friendly gesture of support. “You have only a short time before news of the Tzenkethi incursion breaks around the planet. Instead of staring at me, I’d suggest you use the time to get your family to somewhere remote, somewhere safe.” He grinned. “After all, in the chaos that follows an attack on our planet, who could say what might happen to them?”

Kubus walked away, leaving Jas alone. With shaking hands, Jas drew a communicator from his pocket and activated a link that would connect him with Korto city.

Orange fingers of sunlight were creeping over the horizon as Darrah turned the police flyer onto a final approach, lining up to touch down on the port’s landing pads. He felt bone tired and thick-throated, a chill inside him even though he had dried himself down and changed into the nondescript flight suit in the aircraft’s deck locker. He concentrated on the work of flying, but he was troubled. Gar had refused to be drawn on his ordeal and disappeared into the Kendra Monastery the moment they had touched down; and on the flight back to Korto, the Cardassian Pa’Dar had been equally uncommunicative. Rather than return to the port with him, the scientist had asked Darrah to drop him off at the enclave outside the city. Darrah had no reason not to agree, but the alien did not seem interested in thanks for his help.

The storm was gone now, passed out toward the ocean and diminishing, and beneath the flyer the streets of Korto were still wet, shimmering like dark stone. Darrah blinked hard, his eyes rough with fatigue. He thought of Karys and the bed he had abandoned to rescue Osen. It seemed like a world away, as if he’d been gone for days. “I just want to get back,” he said aloud. He’d put the flyer down and then requested someone else to pilot him back to his house. After the night he’d had, it was the least he deserved.

It wasn’t until he climbed out of the flyer, the engines winding down in a falling whine, that Darrah realized something was wrong. The port’s alert lamps were flashing and there were men running back and forth. Over the noise of the flyer, if he strained to hear it, Darrah could pick out the sirens of police ground units.

He was halfway down the gantry to the port control building when Proka caught up with him. He had a steaming mug of thick brown fluid in his hand. Raktajino,spiced with slivers of kava.Darrah had little taste for the Klingon beverage, except when he needed a hard caffeine hit to keep him on his feet.

“You’re going to want this,” said Proka. The look he gave Darrah was not promising.

“Something very bad is happening,” said Darrah. It wasn’t a question. Proka’s face was answer enough.

“Worse than you know.” He handed the inspector a hand communicator.

Darrah raised it to his ear. “This is Darrah,” he said warily.

“Inspector.” Jas Holza’s voice was tight with tension. “Don’t talk, just listen. Get to the Naghai Keep and collect my wife and my sons. Take them immediately to my villa. You are to stop for nothing, you are to talk to no one, do you understand?”

“Sir,” he said, and the word was laced with the exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm him, “I don’t know if I can—”

“Just do it!” roared the minister. “I don’t argue with Ke’lora,do you understand me? Do what you’re told, do your job!I don’t want to hear a word from you unless it is to tell me they are safe, is that clear?”

Darrah felt a cold burn of anger at the slight. Jas had never invoked the inferiority of Darrah’s D’jarrabefore, and now that he had done it the lawman felt irritated and disappointed; but none of that showed in his next words. “Yes, sir. I’m on my way.” He snapped the communicator off and glared at Proka as they climbed back into the flyer. “Safe? What the kosstis he so worked up about? Safe from what?”

Darrah listened with growing alarm as Proka explained the priority message that had come over the general Militia channel just minutes before Darrah had landed at Korto. An attack was coming, and the planet was going to a maximum state of alert; but by then they were already airborne and it was too late for him to get a call through to Karys and the children.

16

The marauder came in toward Bajor’s orbit from high above the plane of the ecliptic, dropping down in a fast, near-light-speed approach across the rim of the Denorios Belt. The ship’s commander was canny, using the natural dispersal effect of the plasma phenomenon to mask his approach. The flotilla of Space Guard assault vessels and impulse raiders had little time to respond, but they were well-trained men and women, and it was their home that was at stake. They did not shirk from the engagement. All hails were, as expected, ignored by the Tzenkethi ship.