But I couldn’t stay away from Palandine. Yes, I was sentimental. But after Lokar’s death we’d be able to call it something else.

And there she was. The shadowy outline of my desire. My love. She had gotten my message. Palandine was facing toward the Edosian orchids, and I could see she was in a tense state from the way she moved and held herself. As I was about to signal my presence, I sensed faint movement in the shrubbery behind the orchids. It could have been voles, but I don’t think I would have been aware of their movement from this distance. Of course I was under surveillance–that was no surprise. What was surprising was my foolishness. Reluctantly I decided not to signal. It was time to stop behaving like a reckless child. It would have to be enough to watch her shadowy outline and remind myself what was at the other end of my Bajoran mission. Giving up Palandine would not be part of my never‑ending sacrifice.

After an unbearably long period of time, during which Palandine grew increasingly agitated, she suddenly stopped her pacing not far from where I was well hidden, and looked sharply in my direction. I was convinced that she could see me, even though it was rationally impossible. But she began to walk toward me, and whether or not she could see me, she somehow knew I was there. She stopped just short of my covering shrub, and the sight of her face shocked me. It was swollen and bruised. One eye was completely closed, and the other contained enough pain for ten. It took every bit of my willpower not to reach out and hold her. Her one eye held mine, I knew she wanted to tell me something so important that she was willing to wait all night if necessary. But I was certain that someone had followed me here, and that any contact would fatally expose us. Not now, my darling. Soon, I signaled. She barely nodded, sadly, and walked away. As I watched her recede into the darkness, every cell of my body was so quickened with hatred and the a desire for revenge that I barely heard the noise behind me.

I could see the light above me. I pushed my way toward the luminous white center surrounded by a rosy corona. The medium was heavier than water, perhaps a liquid gas, warm and buoyant, but miraculously it wasn’t suffocating me. As long as I pushed and stroked and kicked my way up to the center of the light I knew with certainty that I would arrive at my destination. I didn’t dare take my eyes off of my lighted goal for fear of losing it, but I knew there were bodies all around me. They drifted in and out of the edges of my periphery, and I wondered if they were going to the same place. While their presence was strongly felt, it was too dark to see who they were. They never made any physical contact, but we were deeply and pleasurably connected to each other.

The light was growing more and more intense the closer I came to it. Blinding white and painful. I couldn’t keep my eyes open and I was afraid to close them. Finally the light shattered as I broke the surface and heard someone scream. The shards of light gathered at several magnetizing points, where they formed shapes.

“If he screams like that again, we’ll all be deaf.” A voice emanated from the shape of a person standing in front of me. A hand flashed out from the body shape and slapped me across the face. A warm feeling of pleasure flowed through me; the liquid medium I had moved through to arrive at this place was now inside me, filling me with its tender nurture.

“He’s conscious now.” Another voice spoke from a body, which moved out of the surrounding darkness into the penumbra at the edge of the pool of light. The hand flashed again and slapped my face. Another release of warm pleasure. The wire, I thought. This is an interrogation. Military interrogators. They have no idea. I wanted to laugh, and it took a concerted effort to gather my disparate parts in order to integrate my will. Was I on Bajor?

“At least the smile’s gone,” the first voice said. I was fully awake now. I let my jaw go slack and my eyes glaze over, but I could make out a good two hundred degrees of the room. Besides the two Cardassian soldiers, I was able to discern a third man standing in the darkness to my left. I sensed he was the focal point of the others. I couldn’t sense anyone behind me. The hands of the closest soldier grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me into a more erect sitting position.

“Pay attention now!” he shouted in my face. I cleared my eyes to indicate more awareness.

“He’s ready now, sir,” the soldier confidently reported to his superior. To think that they give these brutes the delicate task of an interrogation.

“Why are you shaking your head, Elim? Regret for the foolishness that brought you here?” I was not surprised to hear his voice. Only surprised that it had taken so long. I had been very careless. Sentimental.

“Leave us,” Lokar ordered the soldiers. They looked at each other.

“He’s not secured, sir,” the one closest to Lokar warned.

“Elim and I are old friends. We’re just going to have a chat,” Lokar said with a pleasant smile. “You may go.” The soldiers left and Lokar studied me in silence. “Quite impressive,” he said. “The amount of punishment you absorbed. I’m afraid, however, that that smile of yours only infuriated the glinn. Do you remember the first time we met? The same smile.” I made no response. Was it coincidence that Lokar had made his move as I was about to make mine? Or was I betrayed? Someone must have known that he had come back from Bajor. That’s what Palandine had wanted to tell me with her battered face. They must have followed her. Where was she now? The wire wasn’t designed to alleviate the anxiety I felt for her safety . . . and my hatred. If I could somehow get to him here. I began to calculate the risk. At that mo ment, Lokar circled around so that he stood directly behind me, but at a distance to easily deal with any move I would be foolish enough to make. I continued to look straight in front of me. I had to channel this hatred along a finely tuned band of intention.

“How is your gardening these days? Or do you get much of a chance in your new profession? You did that very well. I left Romulus feeling sorry for you.”

“Your arrogance made it easy, Barkan.”

“Indeed. I underestimated you. It wasn’t until many years later that I discovered you’d been recruited by the Obsidian Order. I’d always assumed you’d . . .”

“You assumed that it was because you gave me a low rating in your Competition evaluation that the Prefect asked me to leave. And then you assumed that I had disappeared into the service class.” I allowed the ancient resentment to color my tone; it was a tacit acknowledgment of his superiority I knew he wouldn’t miss.

“Ah, yes. Still bitter, are we?” And he didn’t. I could feel his initial defense relax. In his mind I was still Elim, the naпve murk. “It’s clear you never learned to build on these lessons. It’s a pity. You’re a clever person, but a petty one; harboring your slights and jealousies, plotting your revenge. And it made you sloppy and self‑indulgent. Yes, I underestimated you. I’d lost track of you, I had no idea what you were up to, professionally . . . or personally. Imagine my surprise.” Resentment crept into Barkan’s tone. Here was the opening I wanted.

“How did you find out?” I asked.

“Please, Elim. That’s when you underestimated me.Flaunting your ‘relationship’ in public like infatuated schoolchildren.”

“Yes, I suppose it would have been wiser to behave like experienced adulterers,” I replied with a sigh.

“You’re the lowest form of scavenger, Elim. You have no attachments of your own, and so you feed on the emotional vulnerabilities of others.” The resentment gave way to the implacable hatred Tain had anticipated. It wouldn’t be long now.

“What are you going to do with Palandine?” I asked.

“That’s not your concern. I’m sure you’re accustomed to being the one to ask the questions, but I’m afraid that’s no longer your privilege. You are now obligated to answer mine.” His voice hardened and he moved closer to me, a sign that his desire for revenge was outstripping his objective.