Jas listed slightly as he got up and walked to the nearest wall, rubbing his fingers down it. “Old friends,” he told the stones, “if nothing else, I have at least learned an important truth. I am a coward. And I am afraid I may be forced to abandon you.”
Dukat glanced up and tapped the intercom panel at the sound of the chime. “This is the gul.”
Tunol was uncharacteristically hesitant in her reply. “Sir, someone has just transported aboard.”
“From Bajor?”
“I’m…not quite sure. The carrier wave was phase-scrambled.”
That piece of information was all that he needed. Dukat’s lips twisted. “Send them to my duty room.”
“She’s already on her way, sir.”
Dukat’s grimace turned to hard granite, and he turned the padds on his desk facedown, pausing only to flick a spot of dust from the dull metal of his armor.
The door to his chamber hissed open, and Rhan Ico stood outside, flanked by two troopers. She dismissed them without a word and entered the room. Dukat couldn’t be sure which he found more irritating: that she entered without his permission or that the two gils obeyed her without question.
“Thank you for receiving me, Gul Dukat.” Ico took a chair and smiled thinly.
Dukat noticed that the automatic security subroutines built into the consoles of his duty office had not reacted to her presence; normally, if a member of the Ministry of Science, a civilian, walked into the chambers of a ranking military officer, each one would go blank to conceal data outside her purview. Instead, every screen remained active, silently showing Dukat just how high Ico’s clearance went.
He was in no mood for games. “What do you want, Ico?” Dukat was brusque and distrustful.
She frowned slightly, as if disappointed that he wasn’t about to engage in the usual rounds of wordplay and dissembling. “I’m aware of the contents of your mission orders,” Ico said without further preamble. “It seems that, once more, we share common goals.”
Dukat’s eyes narrowed. “However true you may think that is, I don’t intend to repeat past mistakes with you.”
“On the contrary,” she countered, “our last association was a great success.”
“For you, perhaps. Tell me, how many more of those pretty baubles have you purloined since then?”
Ico spoke as if Dukat had said nothing. “I know what you are looking for.”
“A way to terminate you and all your kind?”
She sniffed, smiling slightly, and Dukat chided himself for allowing her to draw from him that flash of annoyance.
“The passengers,” she went on, “from the Xepolite transport.”
“Ah,” said Dukat, returning a cold, feral smile of his own. “Thank you for confirming my suspicions that there are agents on board the Vandirreporting to the Obsidian Order.”
Ico laughed. It was a short, unlovely sound. “I have heard it said that organization has operatives on everyship in the Union fleet, from the lowliest fuel tender to the proudest dreadnought.” She cocked her head. “But to continue. The masking compound? It is of Federation origin, a tool utilized by Starfleet Intelligence.”
Dukat schooled his expression carefully. Starfleet agents posing as Bajorans, on-planet at a critical juncture such as this one.It was a worst-case scenario brought to life.
“Clearly, they must be dealt with as soon as possible,” Ico went on.
Dukat kept himself in check, resisting the urge to immediately call an alert and begin an aggressive search. “Why are you telling me this? I’d imagine you much prefer to keep the kudos from such a capture to yourself.”
She inclined her head. “A number of reasons. You’re quite intelligent for a military officer, Dukat. You would have come to the same conclusions in due time. There are matters that I have currently in hand that require the majority of my attention. And, of course, Jagul Kell’s lamentably shortsighted self-interest. He’s quite incapable of managing such a situation. I think it would be best if he remained uninformed about this development for the time being.”
“You want me and my men to do your work for you?”
She smiled coolly. “Isn’t that always the way?”
He wanted to punch that smile down her throat. “I don’t need your help.”
“Don’t be foolish,” she warned. “I’m giving you a gift.”
“And what do you want in return?”
Ico got to her feet. “Why, the same thing that you do, Skrain. A triumphant Cardassia, and a compliant Bajor.” She tapped a control on her comcuff and vanished in the haze of a transporter beam.
The evening had drawn into night as they left the great hall of the keep, the Bajoran clerics and the party of Oralians walking side by side without really mingling. Vedek Gar had led the meeting with a reading from Yalar’s New Insights, choosing a parable that Bennek had considered a somewhat uninspired work, while in turn the Cardassian cleric had performed a recitation with Tima, a piece telling the story of the Birth of the Fourth Fate. Even from behind his mask, Bennek had not been able to miss the cold expressions directed toward the woman by some of the Bajoran priests. I wonder, do they disapprove because of her adherence to the Way, or because she is my lover?He imagined he would never know for sure. Tima glanced at him and gave a wan smile, concealing a multitude of subtle signals. She feels the same way that I do; where once we were greeted as honored brothers and sisters, now we have become unwelcome. Oralius has lost purchase on her birthworld, and the same will happen on Bajor, I see it coming.
“Would you join me on the balcony?” asked Gar. “The night is warm. I will have refreshments brought to us.”
Bennek nodded. “I would like that.” He followed the Bajoran out of the stained-glass doors, and a light breeze pulled at his robes. The Oralian gathered them in his hands and took the proffered seat at the stone table under the stars. The sky was scattered with light cloud and patches of darkness. “I am sorry that Vedek Arin was not able to be here tonight,” he continued.
“He’s in Kiessa,” said Gar lightly. “Matters of the church. I’m sure you understand.”
Tima shot Bennek another look. Before the flyer had arrived at the camp to bring them to the Naghai Keep, she had predicted that Arin would not be present. The man had been slowly aligning himself with the interests of Kubus Oak over the past few months. It was no secret that Kubus’s interests were in concert with the Union’s, and there was no place for the Oralians there. Vedek Gar is the only ally we have now,he reflected, feeling bleak.
A servant brought hot dekatea and a plate of veklava;the sight of the food brought a sour taste to Bennek’s lips as he thought of the burned-out storehouse in the camp, the katterpods and bread all ruined.
Gar poured the tea and cupped the stone mug in his hands, savoring the woody smell. “Bennek, I am glad you came here. I know about your recent problems, about the firebombing and the intimidation. I know you must find it troubling to venture from the safety of your settlement.”
“Such as it is,” said Tima.
“Your people are embattled, my friend,” he continued.
“And it pains me to think that the Way may die out.” Gar shook his head sadly. “Your numbers have diminished, and they continue to do so, yes? I have heard that many have left the Way and renounced their faith.”
Bennek stiffened. How does he know about that? I have kept that sordid fact a closely guarded secret!But it was true. On some level the cleric could understand the men and women who fled the camps and gave up their church so that they could eat again, be free again, be considered Cardassianagain. “This is a troubling time for the children of Oralius,” he admitted. “But she grants us the Way, and she will show us a path through adversity.”