There was quite a crowd for the match, which was due more to the fact that, other than hiking or turbogliding or attending Embassy functions, there wasn’t much to do on Tohvun III. At the beginning I noticed Maladek watching with the tall Vulcan. Hans told me that he had tried to get Maladek as the other goalkeeper. I wasn’t surprised that he’d refused; it was clear to me that he found his time better spent with the Vulcan, who was also a nonplayer. When we came back from the interval, the two of them had disappeared.

“Thank you, Alardig,” Hans said to me at the reception for the players. “I can’t get over how well you controlled your goal.”

“Perhaps Cardassians have the ideal temperament for the position,” I half joked. “Too bad you didn’t get Begom for the other goal.”

“Then we might not have won,” Hans laughed. “But tell me, is he not feeling well?”

“Begom?” I asked.

“Yes. I only ask because he seemed perturbed when I approached him about the match.”

“He’s always perturbed,” I said without thinking. At that moment I understood two things: I didn’t like Maladek, and I had made a huge mistake. Hans was looking at me with his open face, so seemingly free of guile or ulterior intent. I immediately covered my misstep with a laugh and desperately tried to think of something that would mitigate my remark. But the laugh was artificial and the longer Hans stood there–smiling at me!–the more I felt the fool. Of course. Far from being stupid, these people know exactly what they’re doing. Hans also knew what he was doing when he asked me to goalkeep. It was clear that they had more information about me than I had about them.

And Maladek knew all this as well.

The thought struck me as I made my way to the service compound, where I was to meet Limor. He was posing as an Embassy employee, although I hadn’t seen him since I’d arrived. I sent him a message that I wanted a meeting as soon as possible, and he directed me to the groundskeeping building. I didn’t know what else to do. As a junior probe I had limits, but what were they? How much do I respond to Hans’s obvious interest in me? And what do I do about my increasing uneasiness concerning Maladek? A shadow moved, and Limor was next to me.

“Come with me,” he said. Where had he come from? I followed as he quickly led me behind the building, through a back door, and into a small room I took to be the groundskeeper’s office.

“What is it?” We stood in the darkness.

“It’s Maladek. It’s also the Starfleet junior officer, Hans Jordt. It’s also . . . me.” I struggled to organize my thoughts. I knew somehow there was a coherence, but I didn’t have enough information to put it together for myself. Limor watched me, waiting patiently. I decided to start at the beginning. I told him about Bamarren and the Competition and how I was “certain that Maladek remembers not only who I am, but the part I played in his defeat.” I told him about Maladek’s contact with the Vulcan, his behavior with me and the sounds that were coming from his room. And I told him about Hans, the football match, and my unthinking reply to his interest in Maladek’s well being.

“I know something is going on, Limor. But I’m missing something. Perhaps if I had more information. . . .”

“You’re here to observe and to learn,” Limor reminded me. “Information comes if your assignment expands. Otherwise, continue.” He nodded dismissal and I started to leave.

“You can hear Maladek. He can’t hear you.” I stood at the door, letting this sink in. “And breathe once before you answer any questions.”

As I walked back to the residence I understood that my assignment had expanded. I also understood that this expansion had been anticipated when I’d been given my residence. Very little is left to chance in this work. Even the lack of preparation for dealing with humans, which had so irritated me (and had made me think that Limor had been remiss) served a valuable purpose. Hans Jordt would not have shown such interest, I’m sure, if I had behaved in a “prepared” manner. The skill, I realized, was to assimilate these lessons without losing my innocence.

When I entered the residence, I immediately placed a chair next to the wall that connected to Maladek’s. He was in there, restlessly moving about and muttering. I could only try to imagine the state of mind that impelled anyone to behave with such agitation. Not satisfied with my listening post, I tested various parts of the wall for better hearing. Not only did I find a slight indentation that allowed me to hear perfectly, but it also contained a cleverly disguised eyepiece that gave me a wide‑angle view of Maladek’s room. Why hadn’t they told me about this to begin with? Because, my voice patiently explained, any expansion also depends upon information I uncover myself. Another piece of the mosaic.

Maladek was moving about the room as if he were being chased by fire. His muttering came in scattered bursts, and there were times when I was convinced other people were in the room with him. I could only make out the occasional word, and only then if it was repeated, like “yadik,” which is what a young child calls his or her father. There was much about betrayal and someone called the “betrayer.” As he harangued the room, he helped himself liberally from a bottle of crinox,a strong drink fermented from local berries. It was a pathetic sight, and one I never would have guessed from the self‑contained superiority of his public face.

I watched him until he drank himself into a stupor and fell asleep in his clothes. The closest thing I could liken his behavior to was a man defending himself desperately before a chief archon who had judged him guilty. But even more disturbing was the impression that this presumption of guilt was driving him mad.

That night, my dreams reflected just how disturbed I was. Somehow I was barely hanging on to a steep ledge high up on a huge rock formation that dominated the Mekar Wilderness. In front of me was the flat summit and safety, behind me was a sheer drop into the jagged outcropping of the formation and certain death. A figure was on the summit offering me a rope to hold onto. The sun was behind the figure and I couldn’t make out who it was. I kept repeating, “Who are you?” But the person wouldn’t answer. I refused to take the rope until he did answer, but the surface was slippery and it was getting increasingly difficult to keep my footing. Finally, I had no choice and grabbed a rope. The person maintained the tension on the rope as I carefully climbed up. I stopped to take a breath and calm my anxiety.

“It’s an opportunity, Elim,” the voice said.

I looked up, and it was Barkan.

“It’s an opportunity,” he repeated and threw his end of the rope over the edge behind me.

I sat up on my pallet, bathed in sweat. I instinctively knew it was late, and that I had to hurry to get dressed and meet Hans at the main entrance. I had agreed to go on a hike with him up the Mandara volcano. I hoped that my dream had no connection to the day’s activity. As I was leaving the residence, I looked toward the eyepiece in the wall; something in me didn’t want to know what was happening on the other side. But it was my work, and I couldn’t pretend otherwise. It was also in my interest to know, especially if the dream (as I suspected) was connected in some way to Maladek. I looked–but the room was empty.

“I’ve been told that this way has the greatest views,” Hans said as he set a vigorous pace up the trail. It was clear that he was an experienced climber, and I followed, taking special care negotiating the broken lava rock and twisting roots. The density of the planet’s atmosphere and the chilling dampness made the climb more taxing than I had expected. Finally we came to a clearing that afforded a view of the Mandara Valley rising up to a volcanic range of mountains, which floated above a bluish mist. Thankfully, there was direct sunshine that warmed the rocks we sat upon and helped to dispel the forest chill.