“Yes, we do,” Kira agreed.

“After the near-disaster Shakaar made of the Cardassian situation, I truly considered exposing his duplicity. It would have ended my career, but it would have been worth it to prevent such a thing from ever happening again.”

“I had the same thoughts,” Kira said.

“What stopped you?”

Kira considered her answer, then shrugged. “Faith, I suppose. I kept telling myself it was all happening for a reason. Shakaar, the Cardassian mess, the Ohalavaru—and just when things were at their worst, Yevir, of all people, goes completely around Shakaar to forge a relationship with Cardassia outside of politics, an initiative based on faiths coming together for the greater good. And in the process, he brought the last of the Orbs back.”

Asarem smiled grimly. “Yes, who could have seen thatcoming? Yevir actually made the politicians irrelevant to the peace process. I’m still scratching my head over it. To my knowledge it’s unprecedented. I realized then that it might be the start of a revolution in diplomacy. And do you know what else I realized, Colonel?”

Kira shook her head.

“No one but a Bajoran could have done it.”

Kira considered Asarem’s statement and smiled.

Asarem breathed out again. “What stopped mefrom exposing Shakaar wasn’t faith, however. It was fear. I feared derailing Bajor’s entry into the Federation, because I believed in it. Now Shakaar is dead, and I wonder if I was wrong.”

“Wrong about what?” Kira asked. “About not exposing Shakaar, or about Federation unity?”

“Both,” Asarem said. “Shakaar was up to something. Colonel. We both know that. Something that was tied to his efforts to speed us into Federation membership. And yet he felt threatened by the Cardassian peace initiative, which could only have helped his cause. But now he’s dead, with the result that Bajor and the Federation may never come together.

“So I now find myself wondering…which is the lesser evil? To complete what Shakaar started, when I know he acted ignominiously in his pursuit of it? Or to reject it, even though I know that a different evil may be attempting to pit us and the Federation against each other?”

Kira was silent a moment. Then she said, “Put that way, you’re right, it’s a difficult choice. But then I remember that whatever plot Shakaar was hatching, he didn’t start the process of Bajor’s joining. He merely used it. It was the Emissary who started us on this path.”

Asarem chuckled. “Yes, that was quite clever of Councillor zh’Thane, wasn’t it? Her reputation is well earned.”

“But she did have a point,” Kira said gently.

“Yes,” Asarem agreed. “She did. Unfortunately for me, however, neither the Emissary nor Shakaar will be taking responsibilty for what comes next.” With a deep breath Asarem stood, and Kira stood with her. “Report to the Gryphon,Colonel. This conversation never took place.”

5

The crash site was a forest. From what little they could tell by the ship’s sensors, much of the planet was going through an impressive period of biological gigantism, not unlike Earth’s Jurassic period, 150 million years in the past, or present-day Berengaria. Huge gymnosperms carpeted the two primary continents, where myriad small forest-dwelling animals ran and flew. Sea life was also abundant—and colossal in many cases—but the most spectacular inhabitants of this world were the variety of towering, armorplated, multilimbed land-walkers that lumbered among the trees. The away team beamed down with phasers drawn.

A strong warm wind tugged at Vaughn’s uniform once he materialized, pushing him back a half-step before he could completely steel himself against it. Clouds hung heavily overhead, with intermittent flashes of lightning. The wind howled, but strangely, there was no rain.

“Dax warned us the weather might be inconvenient,” Bowers shouted over the wind. “But she seemed pretty sure it wouldn’t get worse than this.”

Vaughn nodded, squinting at the terrain. Visibility was poor beyond ten meters; the forest was dense. Neverthless, the Jem’Hadar wreckage was supposed to be…

“There,” Nog called out, pointing toward a gap in the trees as he peered at his tricorder. “The fragments we detected start in that direction.” Smaller than Vaughn or Bowers, Nog had to work hard to keep his footing against the wind.

“Let’s get moving, then,” Vaughn said. “Sam, maintain a scan for life-forms. We don’t want to be accosted by a predator.”

Wrist lights went on as the away team entered the gloom beneath the forest canopy. As they walked deeper, the wind lessened until they could speak to one another without shouting. They were almost on top of the wreckage before they realized it, and had it not been for the tricorders, they might have missed it completely. Half-buried in muddy earth, so much vegetation had overgrown the portions still above the ground that it looked just like a slope in the terrain. A bare patch of dark metal among the thorny vines was the only obvious indication the ship was there at all.

“Damn,” Bowers muttered, and pointed. Next to the “hill,” a flat, crooked tree stuck out at forty-five degrees. Then Vaughn realized his mistake. It wasn’t a tree; it was one of the ship’s warp engine pylons. The nacelle must have been shorn off during the descent.

“Can you tell how long it’s been here?” Vaughn asked.

Bowers studied his tricorder. “From what I can tell, no more than two years. But I don’t think—” He stopped and froze.

“What’s the matter?” Nog asked.

“Life-form,” Bowers reported. “Humanoid. Inside the ship.”

“Is it the source of the transponder signal?” the engineer whispered.

“No,” Vaughn said quietly, taking readings with his own tricorder. “That seems to be a few klicks southwest.” He looked at Bowers. “How do you want to handle your friend in there?”

“We spread out,” Bowers suggested. “Tricorder’s showing an open hatch on the other side, facing west. You and I can approach from north and south. There’s enough vegetation covering the ship that Nog can probably cross the top of the hull without making a lot of noise. Then we flush out the occupant.”

Vaughn looked at Nog. “Are you game, Lieutenant?”

Nog swallowed, but nodded. Nog’s fear and hatred of the Jem’Hadar was no secret, having had his leg shot off by one in a vicious ground assault during the war. His recent experience with the alien “cathedral” artifact had forced him to confront the demons that haunted him still regarding the Dominion’s genetically enhanced soldier species, but any rational being would fear a confrontation with them.

“You’ll do fine,” Vaughn assured him. “Phasers on stun, gentlemen. Let’s do this.”

Sam took the south way around the ship, passing under the engine pylon. Working his tricorder as he walked, he tried to determine the exact nature of their quarry, but the vaguely humanoid heat signature on the display refused to resolve itself any further. Though Vaughn was eclipsed by the swell of the ship between them, Sam could see Nog creeping along the top toward the bow.

The moment Sam had walked far enough to see the open hatch, he stepped back, looking for cover that might also offer a clear line of sight of the opening. Ten meters ahead was a conifer wide enough to conceal him. Counting to three in his head, he bolted for the tree, staying low, trying to avoid snapping twigs as he went.