“Perhaps you should tell him,” he said to Palandine. They held a look before he turned and left. I wanted to ask what, but I waited for her.

“We’re to be enjoined after the Third Level Culmination,” she finally said.

And it all became clear. Of course. Palandine and Barkan had been connected all along. How else could his sudden appearances be explained? She was a vital part of the recruiting process.

“I wanted to tell you. Especially as I got to know you and . . . like you. I’m sorry, Elim.”

I was surprisingly calm. I felt nothing.

“It was important that we win the Competition,” she said.

“We,” I smiled.

“Yes. We. Our lifelines are going to be enjoined, Elim; we’re partners, and our success can only be ensured by our working together.”

“So he told you to recruit me for the Competition,” I said.

“No. That was my idea. When I first met you I knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That you were . . .” She hesitated, carefully maintaining a distance. “. . . Different.”

“Well . . . I suppose I should be honored.” I was working very hard to maintain my own distance.

“I wanted to tell you. But when I realized . . . I didn’t want to hurt you,” she said with a gentleness that rankled me.

“I’m not hurt. Neither one of you can hurt me. I wish you a successful . . . partnership.” I didn’t want to stay any longer; my numbness was beginning to dissolve, and I couldn’t trust myself to control whatever was emerging. I made an awkward bow–a pathetic attempt to be proper–and started to leave.

“Please, Elim.” She stopped me. “I meant it when I said I needed a friend. I could talk to you. I’ll always consider you my friend.”

“And Barkan? Is he also my friend? Should I accept the way he treated me–used me–as friendship?” The numbness was gone, which only made the pain of losing her much worse.

“Barkan is ambitious. I wanted you on the council, but he felt that it would only give you an advantage when you–inevitably–challenged him for the leadership. He couldbe your friend someday, Elim.” I laughed, too loudly, and she flared in response. “You’re so naпve. You still don’t know what this is all about, do you?”

“I wonder if you’re not the one. . . .” I stopped. I was afraid that once I started to relate the details of his treachery I wouldn’t be able to contain the rage that was spreading to every part of my body like a deadly disease.

“I love him, Elim. And I’m also ambitious. I want what he wants. You’ll understand this when you find someone to share your. . . .”

“I have to go.” I shut myself off like a closing worm‑hole. “Good‑bye, Palandine.” I turned and left. I am number One, I kept reminding myself.

* * *

Eight, who was now designated the number One of Lubak, helped me clean my area. We said very little. When everything was done, I stood in front of my compartment.

“Let me show you something,” I said. He moved next to me. I took Mila from her sandy home. At first he didn’t see her, but when I brought my hand close he reacted.

“So that’s what it was,” he said as Mila’s skin rippled and changed coloration to find a suitable disguise. “We knew you had something in there, but after what you did to Three nobody was going to try to find out again.”

“He’s the reason I succeeded in the Wilderness,” I said.

“And in the Competition,” Eight added. He understood what I meant.

“You can beat Charaban.” I lowered my voice to a fierce whisper.

“We’ll see.” Eight replied.

“No, you can. Because you have the very quality that goes right to his weakness. I had to have Mila to learn how to cover my thinking, but even then I walked into his traps. You won’t, and he’ll be forced to make assumptions about you–and they’ll be wrong.” We watched Mila ripple and change. “My name is Elim Garak. I don’t know where I’m being sent, but I hope you’ll remember me as your friend.”

“When I was told today that I was One Lubak, I was honored . . . and afraid that I’d lose you as a friend. Thank you. My name is Pythas Lok.”

Neither one of us ever took our eyes off Mila, who was still trying to blend into his surroundings.

* * *

I had just enough time to complete my last mission at Bamarren. I returned to the Mekar Wilderness with Mila and to the rock formation that was his original home. I found the escarpment where I had hidden myself that first day, and put Mila on the ground in front of the opening. He stood poised and still, various shades of desert playing across his skin. Something powerful was stirring deep inside me, and I began to shake. Mila snapped his head to the side, the way he does when he senses light or heat change. Convulsive waves pushed up from my center and tears filled my eyes, blinding me. I had absolutely no control over what was happening to me. By the time the convulsions subsided and my eyes cleared, Mila had disappeared into the rock‑and‑sand home he came from.

As I hiked back to the Institute, I had the thought that maybe somebody was doing the same thing for me and bringing me back home.

PART II

“Truth is in the eye of the beholder, Doctor. I never tell the truth because I don’t believe there is such a thing . . .”

“You’re not going to tell me.”

“But you don’t need me to tell you, Doctor . . . if you’ll just notice the details. They’re scattered like crumbs . . .”

1

Entry:

I’m afraid that the “invasion” was not all I had hoped for. The Dominion’s grip on Cardassia is as tight as ever, and it’s going to require another, greater concerted effort on the part of the Federation and its allies to loosen that grip. The most significant change is that the wormhole is closed . . . and so is my shop.

And Jadzia is gone. The station is a sadder and grayer place without her. I’m surprised at how keenly I feel her absence. Even though I know that her symbiont has been “joined” with another person . . . well, it’s not the same, is it? Indeed, knowing that Jadzia’s personality is somehow contained along with several others within this other person, I wonder how I would react if we were ever to meet. It would take some preparation on my part. Trills are such a unique race.

But are they? We all–to some degree–contain the memories, traits, fragments of those personalities that came before us. Indeed, perhaps we are even “joined” on a deeper, more spiritual level. The first Hebitians believed this. Each generation is not only succeeded by the next, it is subsumed by it, so that the past is always present and actively involved in creating the future. So in a sense there is no past and future; there is only the present. And I must say that Jadzia’s spark and vibrancy reflected this immediacy.Which is why we were all drawn to her–like moths to a flame.

I must say, however, that Commander Worf’s manner of mourning has completely baffled me. Entombing himself in that ludicrous holosuite program with Vic and his incomprehensible human gibberish . . . those maudlin songs. . . . The doctor has reminded me that these are personal choices, and it’s not for us to judge how one chooses to mourn. Quite so. Who can even begin to understand another’s grief?

“Do you judge people by the clothes they ask you to make?” the doctor asked once. I bit back my response, but the point was well taken. Besides, I’m not making anyone clothes these days. I now spend my time decoding Cardassian military transmissions, some of which are prototypes of codes I created for the Order. Ironic . . . and disturbing. Odo has been charged with the task of gathering the intercepted transmissions and bringing them to me. One day I asked if he wasn’t ever disturbed by the fact that he was at war with his own people. Did he feel a sense of betrayal? As far as he’s concerned, the Founders conducting this war are betraying everything the Great Link stands for, and therefore they must be defeated. I nodded and agreed . . . but I’m still disturbed.