Our assignment was a simple one: we were to gather indisputable information that we could present to the Detapa Council and the Civilian Assembly to discredit both the Brotherhood and Tain’s enemy, Procal Dukat. To this end, Pythas used the cover of Tonarkin Bine, an experienced forest guide who’d been recommended to the Brotherhood as someone who would be invaluable in planning their recreational activities. Dukat was an avid outdoorsman, and he met with “Tonarkin” several times to arrange ambitious forest treks. Pythas won him over with his unassuming confidence and familiarity with the forest. This was no mean feat, for hidden within the beauty and endless variety of the flora and fauna that attracted people to the rain forest were innumerable dangers that posed serious threats to the uninitiated. It was planned that before the main trek, which would involve several members of the various Brotherhood families vacationing at the compound, Pythas and Dukat would take a shorter trek to explore some possible routes. This suited Dukat, who wanted to have a more authentic wilderness experience before the “women and the complainers” got involved.

After they had settled in at the campsite, located near our base, Pythas would find a way to expose Dukat to a numbing drug that would enable us to abduct him and bring him back to the house. With the help of the enhancer I would have until the middle of the next morning to complete my interrogation and extract sufficient damning intelligence before I returned him to a specified area. During the interrogation, Pythas would return to the compound and organize a search team. It would be determined that the old man had gone to relieve himself away from the campsite after dark and been attacked by a poisonous plaktar.Delirious, he had wandered even farther away, until he’d passed out in the designated spot. When he would return to consciousness he would never remember what had happened to him.

“As you can see, the plaktarhas a flatter body and longer legs than the tortubial.” Pythas pointed out the differences on his own carefully detailed drawings. “It’s very easy to confuse the two . . . and potentially deadly if you do. One lick of the plaktar’s tongue, depending on the amount of toxin released. . . .” It was another late night, and the information was beginning to bounce off of my skull.

“Please, Pythas, tell me it’s not necessary to know as much as you do,” I begged.

“It is. This is not the Mekar, Elim. And it’s not Cardassia City. You have no idea what’s in that forest. Whether you trek for a week or carry an old man a short distance. . . .” Pythas was merciless. He was determined to teach me in days what it had taken months for him to assimilate about the forest and its denizens.

On the eve of the celebration of Gul Minok’s victory over the Samurian invaders, which traditionally ushers in the beginning of the longest Cardassian holiday period, Pythas organized the equipment in preparation for the overnight trek with Dukat. He handed me a small vial filled with greenish liquid.

“I think it best if you kept this.” I nodded and took the vial.

“If they do an analysis . . . ?” I started to ask.

“It’s a synthetic that’ll match the plaktar’s toxin,” he answered as he tied off the last pack. “Anything else?” he asked.

“No,” I assured him. I could see that he wasn’t altogether convinced.

“It’s important that you cover all tracks between the base and where Dukat will be discovered. And make sure you arrive at the campsite before dark. . . .”

“Pythas, we’ve been over this how many times? I’m no longer a probe.” Perhaps it was because he was accustomed to working by himself, but his incessant repetition of details led me to believe that he could never completely trust others. Either that or he was the most compulsive person I had ever known.

“Good luck,” he said as he lifted the packs. His wiry strength was always a surprise.

“And to you, Pythas,” I replied.

“Who are you?” The old man’s eyes snapped open and immediately focused on me. Either the antidote produced this kind of sudden reaction or Dukat possessed a great ability to recover his self‑control. I suspected the latter. Everything had gone according to plan. I arrived at the campsite shortly after Pythas and Dukat–just before nightfall. Dukat was eager to explore the immediate vicinity; he was energized by the day’s exertion and by being in a place he clearly loved. Pythas had a difficult time convincing him there wasn’t enough light and that the forest was too dangerous after dark.

“The time could be better spent going over possible routes, and getting some rest for an early start,” he reasoned.

Dukat reluctantly agreed, and after they spent an interminable amount of time going over topographical diagrams, and Pythas had patiently answered Dukat’s unending questions (the old man’s reputation as a brilliant military strategist indeed had merit), they finally settled into their camp shells. There was another interminable wait for some sign that Dukat had fallen asleep. Finally, a muttering snore set Pythas and me into action. He moved like a shadow to Dukat’s shell, raised the side panel and applied the “plaktartoxin” to the back of his right hand. All of this happened without a sound. As Pythas moved back to his shell to dress, Dukat grunted.

“What’s this on my hand?” he demanded.

Pythas and I froze in our tracks. Could he somehow be resistant to the drug? We waited in tense silence until we heard the long sigh of a body surrendering to a point just before death. Immediately we were mobilized. According to our plan, I attached Dukat to an infantry sling and shifted his weight to the top of my back across my shoulders. Thankfully, he was a thin, wiry man. I carried him in the direction that a later investigation would determine was the route he took when he awoke in the middle of the night to relieve himself and lost his way trying to get back to camp. Pythas laid the tracks of his own search route and we rejoined at the place Dukat would later be “discovered.” From there it was a relatively short distance to our base.

After I left the campsite with Dukat, I panicked when I found myself alone in the forest at night. The blackness was so thick I felt like I had been swallowed by a huge beast. Dukat’s inert body and the enveloping foliage and humidity made it difficult to breathe. I had to stop and allow my body and eyes to adjust. Slowly the illuminating marks we had previously established to determine my route began to appear, and I made my tentative way, alerting my senses to be aware of those nocturnal creatures looking for prey. Pythas had taken me into the forest many times during daytime, but it was a different world at night. Every sound, every unexpected touch of a branch or ground creeper stopped my heart. The soft, canopied light that made this world so benign and life‑enhancing during the day was transformed into a killing ground of competing predators, and those of us who relied on a highly developed sense of sight were the prey.

“Are you all right?” It was Pythas, but I couldn’t see him.

“Yes,” I lied. I wanted to weep for happiness that I had found him.

“This way.” I moved in the direction of his voice, and just as I wondered how I would follow him, I noticed that he had placed an illuminating mark on his back. At that moment I truly appreciated his obsession with detail. After a tense but steady march, we came to a trail that took us up along a steep ridge. It was a hard climb, but at one point the forest discernibly thinned out and I felt I could breathe again. Even though my body ached with the strain of carrying Dukat to the top, I was relieved that I was no longer being slapped in the face by malevolent vegetation. Once we reached the top of the promontory, it was a short distance to the house.