“Yes, you see. It’s a problem,” he nodded. “Two problems, actually. The less serious is that you’ve been connected to the incident with Procal Dukat. But we expected that he might retain enough memory of the interrogation. What was not expected was Barkan Lokar’s recognition. While there’s nothing they can prove, still, you’ve made some powerful enemies. Lokar has determined who you work for and he and the young Dukat now have you in their sights. Of course our stature is measured by the enemies we make, and that would be reason enough to allow you to succeed me,” he said in a gentle, almost paternal tone that was keeping me off balance. He moved to the covered seating area, where the sun filtered through the old vegetation. I had never been here with anyone but Palandine. With a long sigh he settled into a patch of sunlight on the low bench.

“This is a beautiful place. I can understand why it’s an ideal rendezvous,” he observed.

“I always expected that you’d find out,” I said.

“But what were you thinking? Not of the long term, certainly. And it’s not just anywoman. She’s Lokar’s wife. Sooner or later he’s going to find out. You know that, don’t you?” he asked with a sharp edge.

“Yes,” I answered. The benign mask was slipping, and I began to see the depth of his anger.

“And when he does, your powerful enemy now becomes an implacable one. He won’t rest until he has destroyed every trace of you.” He was spitting his words at me. “What are you going to do?” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” I admitted with tightly wound control.

“You don’t know!” he repeated with a disgust I hadn’t heard since I was a boy and failed to record all the details of one of our walks. “And I’m supposed to pass my life’s work on to someone who can’t think beyond his lust?”

“It’s not lust,” I argued.

“Sentimentality,” he hissed. “Even worse. You jeopardize our mission, the security of our people because of pathetic sentiments. And all this while, instead of giving up your life to the work, hardening yourself into a leader who could inspire others and expand the vision, you’re playing out Hebitian fantasies with another man’s wife!”

“Yes. Just like Tolan!” I exploded. “Perhaps he wasmy real father after all.”

Tain rose like a man many years younger and grabbed my shoulder in a powerful grip. His anger was now a murderous fury and it was all I could do to hold my stance against the pain of his grip. His cold eyes told me I had betrayed him. Worse, I had failed him. He let go of my shoulder and turned away from me. My entire body trembled. When he turned back he had regained his composure.

“You’ve been returned to probe status. You will be given a period of time to prove whether you have anything of value to contribute to the organization. This, of course, is contingent on your never seeing the woman again and immediately setting into motion a plan to eliminate Barkan Lokar. A plan that will not implicate the Order. From now on you will report to Corbin Entek.” He could have been speaking into a comm chip.

“And who will be succeeding you?” I asked.

“He already has. I leave for Arawak tonight.”

“Who is he?” I persisted.

“Pythas Lok.” He watched me for a moment. His mask was back in place. “Goodbye, Elim.” He turned and walked away.

As I watched him leave, I felt completely empty and wondered how I could feel such emptiness. This sudden, wrenching reversal of fortune . . . everything changed beyond recognition. . . . And yet . . . there was no anger, no self‑pity . . . no fear. Only release. Release from the secrets. Release from the limbo where, ever since I was a boy, I had been trapped between imposed obligations and feelings of mysterious longing mixed with shame. I felt empty . . . and free.

I had to see her again.

“I was expecting you,” Mila said when the door opened. I followed her inside, and instead of the customary trip down to the basement she took me to the large central room, which was filled with stacks of packing bins.

“I’m afraid we’re not leaving you much,” she said. “The furnishings have already been taken away.”

“I wasn’t expecting anything.” I tried to keep all irony out of my tone.

“It’s your choice, Elim.” Her voice was just as neutral. “The house is yours to live in.”

“I assumed Pythas would be moving in.”

“The house belongs to Enabran, not to the Order,” she explained. “Under the circumstances you have the choice to live here.”

“Do you know the circumstances . . . Mila?”

She looked at me. It was the first real contact we’d had in many years. She nodded slowly.

“Before I make my ‘choice,’ I need your help,” I said, surprised that the request emerged so simply. I wasn’t as angry with her as I wanted to be. Mila saw this and softened perceptibly.

“How can I help you, Elim?” It was an objective question; she was careful to maintain distance between us. “Housekeeping” for Tain, after all, came with certain obligations.

“You know about . . . this woman.” I felt ungainly discussing this with her; like a little boy defending his wayward behavior.

“Lokar’s wife.” She revealed nothing, but at least I was discovering that she and Tain spoke to each other. Perhaps Mila was more than just an efficient housekeeper who dusted his brangwaskin books and scrolls.

“I need your help,” I repeated.

“You saw him today,” she stated as she arranged two cups in the drink replicator. I nodded. “He was angry when he left this morning.”

“I love her, Mila.”

“You’re a grown man, Elim.” I couldn’t decide whether she thought I didn’t know this or was seeing it for the first time herself.

“And Palandine’s a grown woman,” I replied.

“I don’t care about her. It’s you! You have to learn . . .” She broke off and passed me a cup which exuded the herbal aroma I’ve always associated with her and Tolan. Bitterbark and sweet groundroot. Moist rich soil.

“To control myself?” Mila blew on her tea. I shrugged at the obvious irony; I didn’t want to get into a fight. “I know. I really do know this, and if there were a way I could . . . just . . . let go . . . convince myself it’s a bad idea and walk away . . . I would.” Mila made an impatient movement with her head. She was struggling for control herself.

“I mean it, Mila. I would. But I think about her, feel her, all the time. Especially when I’m alone.” Mila sat on a bin and sipped her tea. She avoided my look. As I positioned another bin across from her, I experienced a deep pain in my shoulder. It was still throbbing.

“Tain’s angry . . . with me. He wants me never to see her again and . . . to kill Barkan.” Still she avoided looking at me. “But you know this, don’t you? And you know what’s possible. Because you have your own . . . thoughts about this. Don’t you Mila?” I persisted.

Again she jerked away from me. Tea from her cup slopped onto the floor. “There’s no time, Elim.” She put the cup down, wiped her hands on the protective smock she wore, and looked for something to clean the floor with. “There’s no time for this.”

“But here we are,” I shrugged. “I’ve been reduced to probe status, my work dismissed as counting for nothing. . . .”

“It will count when you chooseto make it count,” she said, as she picked up a piece of fabric and rejected it.

“But what about the sacrifices I made? Don’t they count?” I demanded.

“Sacrifices?” In frustration Mila took off her smock to wipe the tea from the floor. “Elim, you amaze me.” Shaking her head, she got down on her knees and began scrubbing vigorously, as if the spilled drops of tea were hostile agents capable of spreading disease and destruction.

“Really? Well, I’m pleased I still have the ability–”

“Sacrifices,” she hissed, her control escaping like steam from a narrow rift. “What was the name of that book you once gave me? When you first came back from Bamarren. The one you proclaimed as the greatest Cardassian novel ever written and insisted that we read it.” Mila was still on her knees, but now I was the offending spot she vigorously rubbed with her words and eyes. “Generations of one family, each faced with the same choice at a crucial moment. Do they serve their personal needs or do they serve future generations? Do they choose the comfort of their own lives over the life of the state and its mission? I read it, Elim. You told me to and I did.”