by S. D. Perry
“We can do it at security, if you’d prefer,” Odo said sharply.
“No, no, there’s no need for us to leave the premises. Come into my office.” The Ferengi gestured to a room behind the bar, and Odo followed him, pretending not to notice as Quark hurriedly tried to hide a small crate under the counter. Odo had no time to address it now.
“Quark,” Odo said, once they were out of reasonable earshot of anyone at the bar. “I need you to do something for me.”
The Ferengi looked reluctant, but Odo went on.
“In about twenty minutes, I’m going to be bringing Dukat in here, as a way of apologizing for sending his chief of engineering on that penal ship. But I can’t stay in here to watch him. It would make him very suspicious—he knows I don’t eat or drink, and since I’ve spent so little time in here, he will certainly wonder why I’m suddenly so eager to be one of your patrons.”
Quark gaped. “You need me to baby-sit the prefect?” he said.
“That’s right,” Odo said evenly.
Quark considered for a moment before his expression changed, a shifting wiliness flickering in his eyes. “It sounds…important,” he observed. “Like…it might be worth something to you.”
Odo narrowed his eyes. “What do you have in mind?”
Quark grinned, unable to conceal his delight over this newfound leverage. “Well. For starters, maybe you could re-consider the fines you were imposing on my friend from Beraina—it’s made him pretty reluctant to do business with me. And speaking of fines, I’m thinking it’s possible that I may have…a few…unpaid debts with your office…if you’d care to check your records. Maybe we could enter into some kind of negotiation…”
“Negotiation?”
“Sure,” Quark said. “Isn’t that what we’re talking about? Like…say…forget about them altogether.”
Odo leaned toward him menacingly. “Or, perhaps you could just do as I ask, and I’ll pretend I don’t know anything about that box of illegal Terran cognac you just stowed underneath the bar…not to mention the proscribed holosuite programs that are hidden in the false panel underneath the right corner of the—”
“Fine!” Quark interrupted quickly, “I’ll do it!”
“Of course you will,” Odo replied. He gave the Ferengi explicit instructions before hastily leaving the bar. It was time to buy Gul Dukat a drink.
Kira had been putting out the call to the Jo’kala cell for over an hour now, with no reply. This was not the first time she had attempted to alert other cells of the possibility of a grid failure, but it was the first time anything had been attempted on such a grand scale. She’d received confirmation from Terok Nor that the plan had been set into motion, the results likely to fall in their favor, and had spent much of the last ten hours contacting everyone who would answer their comms—resistance, civilians, family and friends and neighbors of the men and women who lived in the warren. While she had met with a few skeptical voices, most of the people she’d contacted understood the necessity of action tonight, and had agreed to spread the word.
“This is a wideband alert from six-one-six, I repeat, the grid is coming down. Terok Nor wil be blind for at least one hour without sensors, starting in approximately eight minutes…”
“Six minutes,” Lupaza corrected from behind her. “Nerys, get off the comm—it’s time to go!”
“But I wasn’t able to get through to anyone in Jo’kala…”
“Someone will have told them,” Mobara said. “Get your phaser, and come on—the others are already in the tunnels.”
“Someone should stay behind to monitor the comm.”
“I’m staying,” Gantt reminded her. He’d twisted his ankle a week before, and wouldn’t travel well. “Just go! Make the best of it, and keep me informed.”
Kira grabbed her phaser and her shoulder pack, following the others as they scurried quickly through the tight tunnels. She could feel a detectable shift, a change in the smell and quality of the air when they neared the entrance. And as always, her adrenaline jumped, knowing she was to be in the uncertain world beyond the warren. Today, she could scarcely hold still.
The Shakaar cell was to approach the munitions facility in groups of three and four, everyone carrying a satchel filled with Mobara’s specially designed explosive devices. This factory, just a few kellipates from the city of Dahkur, manufactured some of the components used in the phaser banks mounted to Cardassian ground vehicles. The first group to arrive would take care of any Cardassians who were guarding the facility, but the Shakaar members were counting on the building being mostly unguarded. At this time of year, few Cardassian troops would be stationed in Dahkur Province.
Shakaar checked his chrono, finally giving a sharp nod. They moved fast and silently through the shaded woods, the group excitement a palpable thing. Kira had been sure that the shape-shifter would help them again; she believed him to be a creature of integrity, and while he obviously wanted to keep himself removed from the occupation, he had no choice but to choose a side.
The ugly building came into focus, and as Shakaar and his team separated from the group, Kira prayed that their assumptions had been correct. The factory had been erected in the early days of the occupation, a dome-shaped thing, low to the ground and surrounded by razor wire with an electric current running through it. This type of fence was only slightly more difficult to deal with than an electrified force field—once the current was disabled with a shot to the control box near the back of the structure, the razor wire could easily be burned away with a phaser on a high setting. Shakaar and the others would take care of it just as soon as they ensured that any guards had been dealt with.
This close, they could hear the sounds of the machinery from inside, clanking and pounding over the hum of the fence. The facility operated around the clock, with busy Bajorans inside working to manufacture weapons that would be used against their own people. This was not a work camp, but a voluntary facility, staffed with Bajorans who had elected to collaborate with the occupiers of their world. Kira felt no remorse for their fate—she had nothing for them but contempt.
Come on, come on…. A beat later, she heard phaser shots over uniform humming, followed by a string of small explosions in short succession. It was her turn to go, and she ran with Lupaza and Mobara to their target.
She was passed by Tahna Los and the Kohn brothers, sprinting in the opposite direction. “Only two guards!” Tahna shouted to her, holding up two fingers as he went by. Several more explosions rocked the facility, and Kira and her companions headed toward the front as Shakaar, Furel, and Latha cut in front of them, racing ahead. Kira could hear people screaming, and she willed herself not to hear.
Kira saw an opening in the wall, a jagged hole of crumbling brick, still spilling dust. She slapped the connection panel and then heaved her entire pack inside, barely slowing. A ragged internal count of three and she sheltered her head as shrapnel and pieces of the ugly structure blew out, raining chunks of debris over them. She saw Mobara hurl his pack, and heard more explosions, from everywhere around the facility. There were no more screams coming from inside, and Kira felt sure that no one had survived.
Her package delivered, Kira was off and running back toward the caves, pushing herself until the burn in her calves subsided into a steady ache that was easier to ignore. She cherished the sensation of freedom, spelled out for her in the throbbing of her muscles, in lightheadedness and a racing heart.
“If that’s all the Cardassians have for us, this will be easier than we thought,” Kira called out, slowing down as she approached the men.
“I wouldn’t get too cocky if I were you,” Shakaar warned her. “We don’t have any way of knowing how much longer the grid will be down—or how long until Dukat sends additional troops to the surface.”
Kira was undeterred. “This is only the beginning, Edon.”
She broke into a run again, eager to hear Gantt’s reports from other cells around the planet. She was elated with the
plan’s success, thrilled to have played a part in such a coup against the Cardassians—
—and the workers, she thought, but quickly put the thought aside, as she put the memory of their screams away, in a secret place in her mind that was not likely to be revisited, except perhaps in her dreams. She increased her speed, working her muscles and joints as hard as she could, and found herself back at the mouth of the cave in almost no time at all.
Dukat shivered as he took his final sip of hot fish juice, juice that could scarcely be called hot anymore. He clutched at the cup, trying to draw the last of its heat into his hands; he felt as though his fingers were coated in ice. The failure of the environmental controls had his entire staff operating in a kind of frozen lethargy.
“Will you be having a refill, Gul Dukat?” Quark’s grinning face slid in front of his own. Perhaps he’d finally tired of chattering with the Lurian freighter captain who had made such a fixture of himself at the other end of the bar.
“No,” Dukat muttered to the Ferengi. “Not at what you charge. I’d have been better off going to the Replimat. At least their juice is hot.”
“So hot it will sear the flesh off the inside of your mouth!” Quark said indignantly. “You can’t eat food from a machine—it’s unnatural. The food and beverages I serve here are made with care. I personally ensure that the ingredients are only of the finest—”
“Save it,” Dukat said, and stood to go.
“Wait!” the Ferengi cried. “I’ll…offer you another glass…on the house!”
Dukat waited for the inevitable second half of the offer, but Quark only continued to smile helplessly.
“Why would you do that?”
“Well…because you’re Gul Dukat! It’s good for business to have the prefect seen in here…of course!” Quark said.
Dukat supposed it made sense, but the Ferengi was obviously up to something. He sighed and gestured his acceptance. “Fine, I’ll have another drink. But I do plan to mention to Odo that you’re acting suspiciously.”
“Gul!” Quark said, pretending to be hurt. “Is generosity really so out of character for me that you would—”
“Yes,” Dukat interrupted, and changed the subject. “How can you tolerate this cold?” he asked the gruesome little man as he heated another drink. “Is it as miserable as this on your homeworld?”
Quark spread his unnervingly toothy smile as wide as it would go. “It’s miserabler,” he said, and laughed at his own joke. “I rather like the new temperature setting, really. But then, it’s not my station.”
“No, it is not,” Dukat said, and accepted the hot glass. He had to admit, the juice here was more palatable than what could be gotten from the replicators, but he could hardly enjoy it with the persistent chill in the air.
“Remember to savor that, now,” Quark advised.
“If it weren’t for Odo,” Dukat complained, “I wouldn’t be sitting here freezing half to death, talking to you.”
“Well, then, I suppose I have Odo to thank for the pleasant conversation,” Quark said.
Dukat ignored him and continued to air his grievances. “Our constable put the chief of engineering on the first penal ship back to Cardassia Prime, before we’d called in for a replacement.”
“Odo is nothing if not overly efficient,” Quark said. “I’d say he’s pretty rigid, for a shape-shifter.”
“And then the environmental controls would have to go down, on the one day I’m short an engineering chief! I’ve just been informed that I’m not to get another one for at least forty-two hours, which means the problem’s got to be attended to by an engineering team without its leader. If you had any idea what fools Kedat surrounded himself with…”
“You know, we have a saying on Ferenginar. ‘When it rains, it rains extremely hard, reducing the entirety of your surroundings to muck.’”
Dukat made a face. “Did I ask to hear your homespun folk wisdom?” he said sourly. “At any rate,” he went on, “I reprimanded him for sending away the chief of engineering without my approval, but it isn’t as though he could possibly appreciate what the loss of environmental control means for the rest of us.”
“Odo isn’t known for his empathy,” Quark agreed.
Dukat was tired of listening to the Ferengi’s acquiescence, and deliberately set his gaze elsewhere until Quark moved on to ingratiate himself to someone else. It seemed to take an excruciatingly long time before the Ferengi finally lost interest in furthering the conversation. Dukat briefly remembered a time when he’d had people on the station he’d thought he could trust. There had been Damar—the young, but wise-beyond-his-years garresh—and there had been Kira Meru. Beautiful Meru, so sensible—for a Bajoran, that was—but both had betrayed him. And then Basso Tromac. The Bajoran had been such a loyal servant before he’d disappeared, never returning from his errand to collect Kira Nerys. Dukat was left to wonder if Basso hadn’t betrayed him as well.
He looked up to see Quark making his usual small talk with a group of security officers in the corner, the insincerity all but dripping from his words. It was certainly indicative of Dukat’s isolation that he would be forced to seek companionship from the shape-shifter—or worse, from the Ferengi. He could trust no one, he recognized now.
He hurried back to his office, warming himself slightly by the brisk walk, feeling strangely melancholy. Why was it so hard to find people he could depend upon? How could he be expected to function when there was no one to whom he could speak?
He found a message from Legate Kell waiting for him in his cold office. He reviewed it without enthusiasm, an ambiguous request for an immediate callback, and Dukat reluctantly put in a return call. Perhaps it was related to his new engineering chief…
“Dukat,” the legate said shortly. “I’ve given it much thought, and I believe my plan to reorganize the Bajoran government is best for all concerned.”
Dukat gritted his teeth. Why did Kell continue to concern himself with details of the annexation? Dukat felt smothered.
“We need to discuss the particulars of the transition, as I would like to see the alteration occur as soon as possible,” Kell went on. “But first, I feel it would be best to appoint a committee among some of your more trusted advisers, in order—”
A red light flashed on the console to Dukat’s right, accompanied by an audible alarm. Kell broke off speaking, his expression parodying surprise. “What is that?”
Dukat was already reacting, having swiveled to regard the console at his right-hand side. There had been a failure of the program managing the sensor towers on the surface, guiding the sweeps and returning the data to Terok Nor.
“I must go, Legate,” he said, ending the transmission without another word. He immediately alerted engineering, then called for his communications officer to start contacting surface bases for reports.
He spent a moment trying to call up more information on the nature of the failure, but the computer was giving him nothing. Frustrated, he stepped out into Ops, looking over his shivering skeleton crew as they went to task, working diagnostics and gathering information. The initial reports were bad—there was nothing coming up from the grid, no data being recorded at all, on any continent. Dukat sent them to double-check, his best hope right now was that the Bajorans on the surface would not learn of the failure.
He thought of the Ferengi, that ridiculous idiom repeating itself: When it rains, it rains extremely hard…
“Get me a diagnostic of the most vulnerable sites on the surface,” he barked. “I need troops in place anywhere that is susceptible to insurgent attacks.”
The dalin at communications spoke up. “There are literally hundreds of them, sir—could you be more specific?”
The female glinn working the sciences station spoke up, confirming the desolate news. “Sir. The entire detection grid has gone dark, sir.”
Dukat took a breath, reminding himself that this was not yet cause for panic. If the Bajorans were not aware that the grid was off lin
e, then unrest on the surface was unlikely—at least, for now. He made a quick mental list of the precautions that must be taken, before the same female glinn spoke with urgency in her voice.
“A report, sir, forwarded from a manufacturing facility in Dahkur—it suggests that insurgents have attacked, but the signal was only partial, they can’t confirm…”
“Gul Dukat, there is a red alert coming in from the military base on the outskirts of Musilla Province!”
“A facility in Gerhami Province has gone offline!”
“Another report, sir, from Ilvia—”
More shouts, console lights winking and pulsing, simultaneous reports of scattered disasters, and Dukat felt his internal temperature plummeting, becoming as cold as his space station. This was not accidental, nor, likely, was the distraction of the environmental malfunction. This was sabotage, a carefully planned attack, and it had occurred on the prefect’s watch—on his own station.
21
The man who now stood at the podium was proving himself to be a poor speaker. Though it had been arranged far in advance of this date that he would preside over the meeting, Natima suspected that he felt uneasy with the location she had chosen—an empty classroom at the University of Prekiv, Natima’s alma mater and current place of employment.
Natima had worked very hard to get to her current position; in just under five years, she had earned a postgraduate position as an assistant professor in the political sciences department. She continued to take classes in her spare time, and expected to be a full-fledged professor within the next two years; Natima was nothing if not driven. But she was also nothing if not cautious about her own political status as a dissident, and she would not have agreed to host the meeting if she were not confident that the meeting would be private.
She knew that most of the staff here at the university were sympathetic to her causes, particularly those professors who worked in her department. Natima was confident that any members of the university staff who felt otherwise could not touch her. She had flourished within the precise hierarchy of the university system, and she knew her place in it. This classroom was by far the safest public location the group could have chosen to meet in—safer than in a private residence, for large gatherings at people’s homes were often secretly monitored by the government. Universities were generally better protected from that sort of intrusion, enjoying a certain measure of lenience in the name of education. Cardassians still valued education and knowledge very highly in the great scheme of their society, for it was the Cardassians’ superior knowledge that had allowed their scientific community to be one of the most advanced in the galaxy.
