“Ah, Elim. We have something special for you today. Lie down here, if you will. Head close to me.” I complied, as Timot now thumped me on the shoulder.

“I’ve just about calibrated the connective adjustment. . . .” Timot mumbled, as he continued to work the panel. His other hand was now probing my skull behind the right ear. The man’s ambidexterity was impressive.

“Yes. That’s your molecular structure. Otherwise the brain would never accept the little coil.” Timot held up a small wire device with four or five coils that began with a tight one and widened out. “And that wouldn’t be very good, would it, Elim?”

“What is it,” I asked.

“Well, I don’t have a name for it yet,” he realized with a laugh. “For the time being we’ll just call it the wire. Simply, I’m going to attach the small coil to the cranial nerve cluster that transmits feelings of pleasure and pain.” He held the wire in front of me and demonstrated. “The wider end will be placed just beneath the cranial subcortex, where the Cardassian brain–in its infinite wisdom–” he laughed again as he pressed the actual point, “decides what to do with this pleasure or pain. With the wire, Elim, your pain, at a certain point, mind you, my boy, we can’t take away allyour pain–that would be monstrous–at a certain point, before that critical moment when the pain would induce you to do or say anything to relieve it, at that point, Elim, the wire is calibrated vibratorily to stimulate enough of an endorphin flow to actually convertthe pain into a pleasurable feeling, which would enable you to endure the most vigorous interrogation and, dare I say, torture.” The old man’s enthusiasm raced like a hound to his triumphant conclusion. I was less enthusiastic, however. I looked at Prang. I knew why I was being fitted with this “wire.”

“It’s because of my threshold rating on the enhancer, isn’t it?” I stated more than asked.

“Eventually every field operative will be fitted with the device,” he replied.

“You mustn’t take this personally, Elim,” Timot cautioned kindly. “Your pain threshold, contrary to certain received wisdom, is something that can neither be considered a sign of character strength or weakness nor ‘improved’ by practice. It’s given to you along with your height, weight, and fateline, my boy. When I tell you that this wire will give you no trouble, as long as you don’t meddle with it, you can believe me. You know that, don’t you, Elim?”

“Yes, I do, Mindur.” The man had never given me anything but superb technology and sound advice. “Please continue,” I submitted.

“Good boy.” Timor thumped my shoulder again.

As I stood on the Promontory, which overlooks the southern end of the Peninsula and the Morfan Sea, I understood that nothing could have prepared me for this sight. Surrounded on three sides by the aquamarine waters, the lushness and green vibrancy of the vegetation formed a dense canopy containing a teeming variety of life underneath. It was fed and nurtured by an abundance of rain that fell nowhere else. Above the canopy, complex patterns traced by innumerable species of avian flight made me dizzy. At one time these forests and the life they sustained had covered much of the surface of our planets. I remembered the Hebitian frieze and its lush background. Of course we were different people: it was a different world. The more the forests receded, it seems, the more we covered ourselves. Their world didn’t need an agent of the Obsidian Order to investigate a group of prominent Cardassians who “happened” to be spending their vacation together. It didn’t have Enabran Tain targeting one of his bitterest enemies, Procal Dukat, a powerful member of the Central Command. And I’m certain it didn’t have fathers who refused to acknowledge their sons. If we lived on the next spiral of the cycle of life, how did we know it wasn’t going downward?

“It’s a beautiful sight, isn’t it?” the familiar voice asked from behind. The stealth as well as the familiarity startled me. I was waiting for my contact, and not to hear him approach was embarrassing. I turned . . . and there he was.

“Pythas Lok.” His slight frame and the shadow of a mocking smile stood surprisingly near.

“But you can’t afford to get too lost in the scenery,” he said. “Otherwise people can creep up on you.”

“Or ghosts from the past.”

“Did you think I was dead, Elim?” he asked.

“I didn’t know what to think. I kept track of you until Orias and then every trace of your existence was erased. It was like you never existed.”

“True, but I was never a ghost.”

“Whenever I made an inquiry it was blocked. And then I heard a rumor that the Order had organized an ‘invisible’ cadre. I couldn’t confirm it, but I always had my suspicions.” Pythas didn’t answer–and I didn’t expect him to. “It’s good to see you, Pythas.”

“It was just a matter of time, Elim. Come inside. I think I have some information that can get us started.” His grace was even more refined as he moved to the small house that was our assigned base of operations. If anything could have taken my mind off downward spirals it was the appearance of Pythas. As I followed his light and soundless tread, I felt invigorated for the task at hand.

* * *

“Draban Lokar?” I repeated.

Pythas nodded. “He and Dukat are the primary motivators of the Brotherhood.”

“Are the sons, Barkan Lokar and Skrain Dukat, also involved with this business?”

Pythas nodded, again. “I’ve had the opportunity to watch them both in action,” he said.

“On Bajor?”

“And on Empok Nor. They’re definitely members of the Brotherhood, but they’re not part of this gathering at the compound,” Pythas assured me. The “compound” was a vacation resort privately owned by the Brotherhood for the benefit of its members.

“Did you also observe Gul Toran on Bajor?” I asked.

Pythas looked at me with a thin smile. “I would have been surprised if you hadn’t heard.”

“And shortly after the Competition Tain recruited you,” I said.

“What was good for you, Elim, was usually agreeable to me as well,” he wryly observed.

“Do you suppose Tain recruited other people who were betrayed by Lokar?” I asked.

Pythas shrugged. “What better way to motivate your agents than to give them the opportunity to settle old scores?”

“All right, my friend, let’s see if we can’t settle some of our own,” I said as I rubbed my hands together.

Pythas had spent enough time in the Peninsula to become habituated to the mysteries of the rain forest. It was an assignment ideally suited to his temperament. Over the years, his modest demeanor and quiet ways had turned him into more of a solitary person than I ever was. I had learned to withdraw my presence as a tool, but I was always aware of my need for contact, and that my value as an operative lay in my ability to engage others in a nonthreatening manner that drew them out. Pythas had learned to withdraw his presence as a way of life–and he moved through the world like a shadow. I was not surprised that Tain had recruited him for the “invisibles.” It took a special person to be able to operate in such unrelentingly anonymous circumstances–no family, no fixed base or identity–and there was no doubt in my mind that he was one of the most brilliant agents in the Order.

Our relationship picked right up where it had left off at Bamarren. Other than Prang, I have never met anyone where so much was communicated with so few words. His eyes had a depth and eloquence that told me everything I wanted to know. How ironic that my lust for conversation was satisfied by someone who rarely spoke. When he was betrayed in his final Competition at Bamarren, he had considered taking his revenge on Four Lubak, but soon came to realize instead that Lubak and Barkan Lokar had done him a favor. Pythas not only admired Lokar’s ability to seduce others to his will, he recognized it as an indispensable trait of leadership that he didn’t possess. He’d been about to resign his One status when Tain entered his life. It was almost uncanny how Tain stayed so thoroughly informed of our Bamarren progress; I’ve often wondered if Calyx had been involved. With the invisibles, Pythas found his life work and seemed genuinely fulfilled. If he missed the intimate connection to a family, he never said.