Meditations on a Crimson Shadow
The turbolift rises slowly to Ops. Keva Zeni looks around at the wide variety of aliens in Starfleet uniforms, diligently working at various tasks.
She turns to the doors of the commander's office. "The admiral is in there?" she asks.
"She is," Bashir answers, running his hand through his greying beard. "You know, I'm a bit surprised by this."
"That the admiral is meeting a Cardassian?"
"It's nothing personal," Bashir says, leading Zeni to the door. He taps the chime.
"Enter."
They step inside. A slight, grey-haired woman stares out the porthole as the wormhole opens and closes. She turns to face them.
"Nerys," Bashir says, "this is Keva Zeni. The writer."
Zeni bows her head. "Admiral Kira, it is an honour to meet you. You are a source of inspiration to my people…"
Kira holds up her hand. "Save it. I understand Garak's built up a sort of cult of personality around me, and I want no part of it." She looks closely at Zeni, sizing her up. "He wants you dead, doesn't he?"
"Let's just say that the current regime isn't particularly receptive to having its official version of history challenged. Gul Dukat is a very convenient scapegoat for Cardassia's problems."
Kira's jaw tightens. "And your crime was to show your people that he was a man."
"And I am deeply grateful to the Federation for granting me asylum."
There is silence for a moment. Then Kira says, "But you're wondering why I wanted to speak to you personally."
Zeni nods. "Yes, admiral."
Kira sits at the desk. "I've been a Starfleet officer for more than half my career now. I know that there are those on Bajor who are still suspicious of the Federation, who don't think we should ever have joined. But I think Bajor still has a lot to learn from the Federation. They're relentlessly driven to expand their understanding of the universe. They're never afraid to challenge their own preconceptions of the way things are." She picks up the baseball and examines it. "The way things were."
"You were there, then," Bashir says. "During his war with the Klingons."
"I was," Zeni answers.
"It was all his war, wasn't it?" Kira asks.
"I can only tell you what I saw, Admiral."
Kira gestures to a seat. Bashir sits next to her.
"The Naprem," Zeni begins. "That's what he called his ship…"
The kaleidoscopic lights of warp speed give way to a bright starfield. A Cardassian warship flies in a wide arc, leaving a trail of plasma in its wake. Two Klingon birds-of-prey and an attack cruiser follow closely, firing green disruptor bursts in the silence of space. They tear through the hull of the Cardassian ship, leaving clouds of debris.
"Three Klingon ships. They haven't seen us yet," Damar announces. "Request that we get close and hit that attack cruiser hard."
"A capital idea, Damar," Dukat says, focusing intently on the viewscreen as he steers the cloaked ship towards the battle. Soon the aft of the cruiser is looming large in their viewscreen. It fires a volley of torpedoes at the Cardassian ship, which narrowly avoids them with a barrel roll.
"Impressive flying," Dukat observes. "I'd like to know who their helmsman is."
They draw close to the cruiser, flying low over its hull. The bridge comes into view. "Decloak and open fire!" Dukat orders.
The space above the cruiser's bridge shimmers and the Naprem appears, unleashing a salvo of torpedoes into the ship's bridge. The shielding collapses and the bow of the cruiser bursts into flame, which dissipates into space. Dukat takes the ship in a U-turn and they fire on the ship's port nacelle.
"All power to forward shields!" Dukat shouts as the nacelle explodes. The Naprem streaks through the explosion, glowing red with the heat. It closes on a bird-of-prey and fires a torpedo spread, destroying it.
"Excellent shooting, Damar," Dukat smiles. "I'm bringing us to bear on the last bird-of-prey. Stand by to fire on my mark."
The ship wheels to face the remaining Klingon vessel, which streaks towards them, disruptors firing. The Naprem shakes and a console explodes. One of Dukat's men falls to the ground, severely burned.
"Port impulse engines are offline!" Damar reports.
Dukat slams his hand on the intercom. "Yax'et, I need that impulse engine online!"
"Working on it, sir," comes the Kressari's voice. "I keep telling you we need to replace that engine!"
"And we will, but to do that, I need it to work right now," Dukat says through gritted teeth as the bird-of-prey streaks past them. It turns in a wide arc for another pass when a grey disruptor beam tears through its starboard wing, cutting it from the hull. The ship spins away from the battle and detonates.
"Getting a message from the Karnaka," Damar says. "They've been boarded. I'm getting fifteen… twenty Klingons heading toward their bridge."
Dukat stands and gestures to two crewmen. "Jural, Perak, you're with me. Damar, when I reach the bridge, keep a transporter lock on the Klingon nearest me." He faces Damar. "Remember that idea I had that I was telling you about?"
Damar nods, smiling slightly. "Understood, sir."
He turns to the ship's medic, who is treating the burned crewman. "Ghoren, stand by to receive wounded."
"Aye, sir."
Dukat and his men take the turbolift to the transporter room. They open a weapons locker and pull out disruptor rifles. Dukat holsters a disruptor pistol and takes a bat'leth. They step on the pads.
"Energize," Dukat says.
They materialize on the bridge of the Karnaka. A group of Klingons is locked in a firefight with the remnants of the bridge crew. In the centre of the bridge, a massive Klingon holds the ship's gul by the throat. He turns to Dukat, then grins, baring his fangs. He drives his d'k tagh into the gul's heart, then drops his prone body.
"Klingon commander!" Dukat shouts in Klingon. "I am Gul Dukat. I have destroyed your ships. Your warriors are dead by Cardassian hands." He raises his bat'leth. "And you will die by mine."
The Klingon holds up his hand, and his warriors cease firing. Dukat glances at the bridge crew as they move to regroup. The Klingon laughs derisively. "You would challenge Motar, son of N'Koth? Then fight me, Cardassian weakling!" he roars. "If my warriors are to die today, we will die in glorious battle upon a pyre of Cardassian bones."
Motar lunges at Dukat, bringing his bat'leth hard against Dukat's and nearly barreling over him. Motar brings his sword up, forcing Dukat's to one side. Dukat ducks as Motar swings to decapitate him. The Klingon brings his bat'leth down, and as Dukat struggles to parry it, Motar kicks him hard in the abdomen, knocking him backwards to the ground.
Dukat brings his comm unit on his sleeve to his face and hisses, "Damar, now!" Then he rolls to his feet as Motar charges towards him, bellowing. The Klingon raises his bat'leth. Suddenly he freezes, then howls, his eyes wide, and appears to glow faintly orange. Dukat leaps forward and swings his bat'leth. Motar's head rolls to the ground, an expression of terror frozen on his face. His neck sprays pink blood, and his body collapses. The remaining Klingons gape, stunned.
"For Cardassia!" Dukat shouts, drawing his disruptor and shooting one of the remaining Klingons in the head before diving for cover.
"For Cardassia!" comes the reply as the crew and Dukat's soldiers open fire on the demoralized Klingons. Dukat's soldiers move to outflank them. Surrounded, the Klingons are gunned down one by one. Soon, their disruptors fall silent.
Dukat emerges from cover and examines the dead Klingons. Then he turns to the survivors of the bridge crew. "You fought well. Your courage is a testament to the Cardassian people."
A young woman helps an officer to his feet. His right arm is severed at the elbow. "Gul Dukat, on behalf of the crew of the Karnaka, thank you. We owe you our lives."
"What is your name, officer?" Dukat asks.
"Glinn Valesh, sir, of the Eighth Order. The gul and first glinn are dead." He cradles his wounded stump of an arm and glances at the gul's body. "We were heading to the edge of the Demilitarized Zone for counterterrorism operations under Gul Evek."
"A worthy goal," Dukat says. "The Maquis have operated unchecked for too long. But you're in no condition to fight them now. The Karnaka will have to head to Septimus III for repairs. I will rendezvous with Gul Evek myself." He looks at the crew. "What you have seen today is just the beginning. The Detapa Council are beaten men, and they would have you believe we are a beaten people. Well, what happened today? Are we a beaten people?"
"No!" they reply.
Dukat grins. "I think these Klingons would agree with you. Together, we proved that victory is possible. We are a resilient people. We are warriors." The room is silent as the crew watches Dukat with rapt attention. "When you reach Septimus III, tell people what happened today. Let everyone know that this war is far from over. That Cardassia will rise again from these darkest of days. And those of you who can still fight…" he looks around, "I can use anyone willing to join me in the war for Cardassia!"
They cheer. Dukat looks around the bridge in satisfaction, taking in their adulation.
"A total of eight crew members from the Karnaka have transferred to the Naprem, sir," Damar says.
Dukat adjusts Motar's baldric. "What do you think, Damar? I'm thinking about wearing this from now on."
"Certainly a fine reminder of a great victory, sir."
"It's more than that, friend. It's a symbol to the people of Cardassia." He gestures for Damar to sit at his ready room desk. "Tell me, have you read the book I gave you yet? Meditations on a Crimson Shadow?"
Damar stiffens slightly. "No, sir. I read the first chapter. It was… interesting."
"But…?"
"To be honest, I'm not much of a reader. Of novels, anyway. Give me Legate Tekar's treatises on military strategy any day. But Preloc is just… a little too abstract."
Dukat nods. "But you can understand how it's relevant to what we're doing."
"Of course. It's about Cardassia's ultimate victory over the Klingons in an apocalyptic war!" He chuckles. "I think."
"Yes. But what's important is not the content. It's the symbolism. She's drawing on the myths of the ancient Hebitians about the end of days, you know. These are the stories of our people, Damar. They're in our blood." He puts his fist on the desk. "We may have days like today, where we kill some Klingons, destroy some ships. Does it really hurt the Klingons? Not really. There are always more Klingons."
"It certainly seems that way."
"But we can make ourselves into symbols. We can inspire our people! Remind them of the essence of what it means to be Cardassian. That's why I wanted to kill that Klingon in front of the crew. And by the way, that was excellent work."
Damar smirks. "I would love to have seen his face when I beamed his internal organs into space."
"Yes, yes…" Dukat has a faraway look in his eyes. Then he turns to his padd. "This Keva Zeni… is she the Karnaka's pilot?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. It's nice to finally have a proper pilot. Send her in when you leave."
"I will."
"That will be all." The glinn stands. "And for heaven's sake, Damar, read some literature once in a while. We're fighting for our culture – you ought to at least be familiar with it."
Damar grins. "Yes, sir." He walks out the door.
After a moment, his door buzzes again. "Enter."
An attractive young gil steps in and stands at attention. "You wanted to see me, sir?"
"Please," says Dukat, "sit down."
She sits. Dukat looks at his padd again. "Gil Keva Zeni of the Eighth Order."
"Reporting for duty, sir. And very proud to be part of this crew, sir."
"At ease, gil." He waves his hand dismissively. "It says here you were involved in the student protests at the Central University."
She does not meet his eye. "It was a more idealistic time, sir."
"No need for excuses. I too supported the movement. The Central Command had become corrupt and self-serving. You may remember that I was the military attache to the Detapa Council in the early days."
"Of course, sir."
"No one could have predicted this war. And yet, here we are. Officially considered vigilantes by a government too craven to defend its people."
She smiles. "Well, you're not alone, sir. You have more supporters than you know."
Dukat looks her up and down. "And you want to be a part of my hopeless, single-handed crusade against the Klingons?"
"I want to fight for Cardassia," she says proudly.
The door buzzes again. Dukat pauses for a moment, then says, "Enter."
Yax'et enters. "I spent some time on the central network through the Karnaka's computers, sir. Got some leads on fuel. Should be able to get a good deal and still have some money to spare for each of us – the Karnaka gave us a very generous donation." He glances at Zeni.
"Yax'et, this is Keva Zeni. She's going to be our new pilot. Gil Zeni, this is Yax'et, our chief engineer. He has particular experience with K'vort-class birds of prey after working with some Klingon mercenaries for a number of years. Two sisters from a dishonoured house, I believe. Now he's bringing his expertise to us for the sake of our two peoples."
"Cardassian and Kressari stand together," Yax'et says. He turns to Dukat. "There's also a message for you."
"For me? To whom do I owe the pleasure?"
"I'm not sure. Apparently someone wants to get a hold of you – someone with powerful connections. I've forwarded the contact to you."
"Thank you, Yax'et." The Kressari leaves. Dukat turns back to Zeni. "If you're going to fight the Klingons, you'll have to learn to fight with a bat'leth. Why don't you join me in the training chamber at twenty-one hundred hours?"
She looks surprised. "Of course, sir! And, if you don't mind my asking… how did you beat that Klingon?"
Dukat grins. "Come now, Gil Zeni, I don't know you nearly well enough to share my secrets with you. Yet."
"I can be patient," she says coyly.
He eyes her for a long moment. "That will be all." She stands and salutes. His eyes follow her as she leaves.
After a moment, Dukat activates his comm unit. The signal is soon answered, and a familiar face glances at the screen absently. "This is Quark, proprietor of Quark's Bar, Grill, Gaming House and Holosuite Arcade. What can I do for you?"
"Quark, my old friend," Dukat drawls. "What a pleasant surprise."
Quark bares his jagged teeth. "Dukat. What's a real surprise is that you're still alive. Flying around in that deathtrap, fighting the Klingons. Do you know what kind of odds they have against you."
Dukat narrows his eyes. "They're betting on how long before the Klingons kill me?"
"Hey, not my idea. Still, I'll say this. Keep fighting the good fight. Inspire your people, and all that. I heard about that Klingon aristocrat you killed. Word is, his brother has sworn a blood oath against you. He's coming after you with everything he's got. Now, if you could try to hold off meeting him til…"
"Quark!" Dukat interrupts him. "I am a very busy man."
"Fine, fine. We'll leave it to chance." Quark grins menacingly. "Alright. Down to business. I am supposed to tell you that there is a woman who is interested in meeting you." He runs his tongue across his teeth. "She says her name is Yeola, and she's seen what you've been doing and is very impressed. She says she has a proposition for you, which could turn the tide in your favour."
Dukat nods. "I'm intrigued. What can you tell me about this Yeola?"
Quark tilts his head. "Not much. My friend Omag passed this on to me. But he did say he liked the look of her lobes. And she had nice delicate fingers." Quark leans in close to the screen. "For oo-mox."
"Thank you, Quark," says Dukat, leaning away from the screen.
"You can meet her at Omag's trading post as soon as you can. Omag said she didn't seem like the type of woman who you keep waiting."
Dukat steeples his fingers. "Tell me, why should I think this is not a trap? There are many who would like to see me dead."
"Hey, I'm getting paid to deliver this message to you, not to ask questions. What you do with it is your own concern. If it was me, I wouldn't go."
"Thank you, Quark. This has been a delight as always."
"Good to see you too, Dukat. And hey, hang in there. Preferably for just a few more months…"
"Goodbye, Quark." Dukat ends the transmission. He wanders around the ready room, pausing to stare at a painting on his wall, made by his daughter.
In the training room, clad in a white robe, Dukat holds his bat'leth in a ready stance. He practices a Klingon martial arts move, trying to match the movements displayed on the crude computer manual.
The door slides open and Zeni enters, also wearing a white training robe. Her long black hair is tied behind her head.
"Gil Zeni," Dukat greets her. He takes a bat'leth from the wall and throws it to her. Surprised, she awkwardly catches the sword.
"To fight the Klingons, you need to understand how they think. And the most – I should say, the only advanced Klingon arts are the martial arts."
"I see." She holds the bat'leth in front of her. "But with all due respect, sir, is there really that much to understand about Klingons? They seem like nothing more than violent animals to me."
"I've learned to never underestimate my enemies." He watches her swing her bat'leth. "Yes. Get used to the weight. It's not balanced for a Cardassian, but it possesses its own internal logic." He swings his sword.
Zeni attempts to mimic the motion. "The balance is off. I trained in hand-to-hand combat at the Central College, but not like this. Am I doing it right?" She swings a few more times.
Dukat says, "Not bad. But the key is to see the bat'leth as an extension of yourself. The unification of warrior and blade, as the Klingons say. Here." He steps behind her and holds her arms, his lips close to her ear and neck. "Like this."
He guides her hands in a slicing motion. "That's it." He releases her arms, and she stares into his eyes for a moment. He says, "Now. Let's spar."
"This weapon is so barbaric," she complains.
"One might say the same thing about this ship," Dukat says, moving forward in a Klingon attack stance. She parries his thrust. "And yet she's kept me alive so far."
"I don't see how you can live on this ship. It's cold, damp, uncomfortable." She repeats his movements, and he steps backwards, parrying. "So," she asks. "Is this something you do for all your crew? Teaching them the intricacies of Klingon swordsmanship?"
"To some degree. But I see talent in you, Gil Zeni." Dukat comes towards her in a more aggressive pattern, and she struggles to block his attacks and backs toward the wall. "I think you can go far."
She feigns an opening, and he brings his bat'leth in towards her side. Then she catches it in her sword's blades and twists, trying to wrench it from his hand. He hangs on and forces her bat'leth above her head with his. She backs against the wall and tosses her sword aside, pressing her hand against the side of his face.
He drops his bat'leth and pulls her robe open. She stares up at him, her grey skin flushed. He leans in and kisses her, and she returns his kiss passionately. They hastily pull each other's robes off, and he pushes her against the wall and enters her, kissing the ridges on her neck. She breathes deeply as he thrusts, still holding her hands above her head. Soon she orgasms, sighing.
Then he comes, pulling her body close to his. Afterwards they sit at the base of the wall.
"Thank you, Gil Zeni," says Dukat, putting his arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. "That was much-needed."
She gazes at him, smiling in spite of herself, running her fingers along the ridges on his chest. "I can't believe this. If someone told me a few days ago that I'd be Gul Dukat's lover… You know I've had a crush on you for a long time. All my girlfriends in the military do. I mean, you're out here, the only one man enough to take on the Klingons…"
He takes her hand. "Are you flattering me to advance your career, Gil Zeni?"
"Maybe." She smiles mysteriously. He kisses her again. Then she stands, putting her robe back on. "I should be going."
"Did I say you were dismissed, gil?"
She grins. "I'm available to my gul whenever he needs me."
The Naprem docks at a Ferengi trading post orbiting a large asteroid, alongside several ships of varying designs. The ship's airlock opens and Dukat enters the cold, damp station, flanked by Damar and Yax'et. An obese Ferengi greets him, backed by a pair of angry-looking Nausicaans.
"Gul Dukat! Welcome to my station. I've heard so much about you!"
"All lies, I can assure you," Dukat says. "So – who is this mystery woman who wants to see me?"
"I'll tell her to meet you at the bar. But first, why don't you and your men relax? We have a fine selection of kanar. And females."
Damar glances at Dukat. He says, "Tell me, Omag, how do I know you're not leading me to a roomful of Klingons ready to disembowel me?"
"If I did, I'd be out a lot of latinum! My money's on you staying alive for three more weeks." He laughs a high-pitched, nasal laugh. "It's twenty to one!"
"Have some respect, Ferengi," Damar barks. "You're talking to Gul Dukat."
Dukat holds up his hand. "Easy, Damar." To the Ferengi, "Take us to the bar."
"Come with me." Omag and the Nausicaans turn, and they follow suit. "And remember, all payment should be in gold-pressed latinum. We're not accepting the Cardassian lek anymore. It's nothing personal. Just business."
Dukat sits at the bar, nursing a drink. Damar, already several drinks in, is talking intently to a scantily clad Klaestron escort over the obnoxious Ferengi music. Across the room, Yax'et is negotiating for fuel with a group of Pakleds. The burly Orion bartender rinses a glass.
The door slides open, and Omag walks in with a short woman in a brown hood. He gestures to Dukat and leads her toward him.
"And don't forget my offer," he says. He slaps her ass, and she does not react. He leaves.
The woman sits next to him. "Gul Dukat. I've been wanting to meet you for a long time. I am Yeola," she says in a soft voice. She pulls her hood down. Her skin is pale white, her eyes a piercing violet.
Dukat narrows his eyes. "I know what you are. You're a Vorta. Part of the Dominion."
She smiles. "I wasn't sure you'd know. Yes, I am. And I want to talk to you."
He unholsters his disruptor and holds it near his hip, under the bar, trained on the alien. "You can save it. I have no interest in talking to you murderers after what you did to my people at the Omarion Nebula."
She holds up her hands. "I might remind you that you attacked us, not the other way around. And I thought you of all people would shed no tears over the Obsidian Order's destruction. But by all means, shoot me. My superiors told me there was a forty-five percent chance you would."
"Why is everyone betting on my life?" Dukat re-holsters his gun.
"Because you're a fascinating man, Dukat. You're a man of destiny." She leans closer. "I have information you will want to hear."
"Just replace me with a Founder, and spare me your manipulation. My people have suffered enough because of you." Dukat downs his remaining kanar and stands to leave.
In a low voice, she says, "The Klingons have been supplying the Maquis with weapons and cloaking devices for several months now. The Maquis are planning an attack on the Bryma colony. If you move quickly, you can stop them."
Dukat peers at her. "How do you know that?"
She stands and puts her hand on his arm, leaning close to him. "Let me prove myself to you. I can help you configure your sensors to detect cloaked ships."
"You want me to take you aboard my ship?" Dukat asks. "What do you get out of this?"
"We have a common enemy in the Klingons."
"An enemy that is likely to redouble their aggression against us if there's even the slightest hint that we're working together." He looks around. "If anyone knew who you were, that you were meeting me here… that information would be very valuable. The Central Command would have a convenient way to paint me as a traitor in league with an enemy of Cardassia."
Yeola glances around at the bar. "I wouldn't be too concerned about that."
"How can you be sure of that? Your species may not be particularly well-known in the Alpha Quadrant, but that Ferengi, Omag – he will have well-placed sources, and he'll make it his business to know."
Yeola looks serene. "Believe me, I am well aware of the need for absolute secrecy surrounding our meeting."
Agitated, Dukat asks, "Then why meet here? Unless…" He trails off, staring at her.
She smiles slightly. "Omag's problems with the Orion Syndicate are well-known. No one would be surprised if he and his assets were to suddenly disappear."
He narrows his eyes. "For that to be effective, it would have to happen soon. Very soon."
"Time is of the essence, Gul Dukat. Make your decision." She stares at him impassively.
Dukat beckons to Damar and Yax'et. To Yeola, he says, "I'd rather not let you die, but I can't have an agent of the Dominion on my ship. You understand my position."
Her expression does not change. "Of course. It's no matter. I have fulfilled the will of the Founders."
He stands, dropping some latinum on the bar. "Your Founders must have known they were sending you to your death."
"My life is theirs."
Yax'et approaches, and Damar follows, looking back at the Klaestron. "We leaving already?" he asks Dukat, his words slurring. He peers at Yeola, noticing her for the first time. "Hello! Gul Dukat, who is your fine friend tonight?" He burps. "I'm Damar."
Dukat asks Yax'et, "Did you close the deal?"
"Yes, sir. The fuel's aboard their ship."
"We'll try to beam it aboard. Come on, we're leaving." He puts his arm around Damar and leads him away from Yeola.
"I like her," Damar murmurs. "Who is she?"
"No one." Dukat looks back, and pauses, staring at the alien. Her expression is unreadable.
He says to her, "On my ship, it's my rules. If you don't follow them unquestioningly, I will personally throw you out the airlock."
"I understand."
He glares at her. "In fact, I may just throw you out the airlock if I change my mind about this."
"I will obey your command, Gul Dukat," she says.
"Well, come on then." She joins them as they walk towards the door.
"Throw her out the airlock?" Damar asks. "Why would you do that?"
Their path to the airlock is blocked by Omag and the Nausicaans. He leers at Yeola. "Leaving so soon, my dear?" He turns to Dukat. "You don't think you can just take a creature like Yeola from me without compensation, do you?"
"She's not your property, Ferengi. Get out of my way."
Omag nods to his Nausicaans, and they sling their disruptor rifles on their back and clench their massive fists, lumbering forward. Dukat, Damar, and Yax'et edge back. Yeola pulls a disruptor pistol from her cloak and fires two white bolts in rapid succession. The Nausicaans collapse. Omag lets out an ear-splitting shriek and curls to the floor, cradling his lobes in his hands. "Don't kill me! I'll make it worthwhile! I'm very wealthy –"
She shoots him in the head. "We need to get to the ship, now."
Dukat and Damar exchange stunned glances, and they follow her as she walks over the prone alien figures. He activates his comm unit. "Dukat to Naprem. Prepare to disembark immediately. We're on our way."
"Aye sir," comes Zeni's voice.
"And scan all Pakled vessels for a large dilithium reserve. When you find it, beam it aboard."
"Sir?"
"Trust me, they're not going to need it."
They cross through the airlock and it seals behind them. "We're aboard. Get us out of here."
"Sir, the station's telling me to stand by disembarking," says Zeni through the comm.
Dukat turns to Yax'et. "Can you do a manual override?"
"Shouldn't be too hard." He accesses a console. "I should be able to force an emergency undock procedure… Just need to convince the system we're having a warp core breach… Standard Ferengi encryption protocols… Done." There is a hissing noise and the docking clamps unlock. Dukat says, "Take us out, full impulse."
He strides towards the bridge, the others close behind. When he arrives, the station is receding on the viewscreen. Suddenly there is a green flash, and it breaks apart.
Zeni turns to him from the helm. "What happened? Was it a trap?"
"I hope not." Dukat peers at Yeola through the corner of his eye. Then, to Zeni, "Engage cloak and set a course for the Bryma system, Warp 7."
"Aye, sir."
The ship ripples and disappears.
It is quiet on the bridge. Zeni suppresses a yawn as she gazes at the stars streaking by the viewscreen and listens to the intermittent sounds of Yeola working on the sensor console. Zeni glances at her as she opens a port on the lower side of the sensor console and attaches a strange device. It begins to glow a pale blue, and Yeola closes the panel.
They sit in silence for a long moment before Zeni says, "The exciting life of intergalactic vigilantes."
Yeola looks at her impassively. "Yes."
Zeni regards her. "Who are you? Where do you come from?"
"I am no one," Yeola replies.
"What are you doing to the sensor array? Some kind of upgrade?"
Yeola does not answer. Eventually she says, "Are you a patriot, Gil Zeni?"
"Of course."
Yeola's alien, purple eyes peer at Zeni. "What if I told you I could make Cardassia great again? Greater than you can possibly imagine?"
Zeni smiles. "First I'd ask how. Then I'd ask what you wanted in return."
"I want nothing. That greatness is mine already." She taps her comm unit. "Yeola to Dukat. Have Yax'et replicate those instruments I specified, and meet me at the fore sensor array."
"I will be there," he replies. Yeola smiles enigmatically at Zeni and walks to the turbolift, nearly bumping into a very pale Damar on her way out. He stares at her as she leaves, then slumps into the captain's chair.
"What was that woman doing on the bridge?" he asks.
"Modifying our sensor array, sir. She also installed a holo-filter device so that all of us look like Klingons when we hail anyone. Or to make her look like a Cardassian. Gul Dukat told us all to give her our full cooperation. But also to watch her carefully." She pauses. "Sir, if I may ask: who is she?"
"I have no idea. Gul Dukat was supposed to meet her at the bar. She shot the Ferengi DaiMon. And I think she blew up the station."
"I've never seen her species before," Zeni says. "I don't know if I trust her."
"Jealous, Gil Zeni?" Damar asks.
"What? No, it's not that… I just…"
"If Gul Dukat trusted her enough to bring her on the ship, that's good enough for me, and should be good enough for you."
"Yes, yes. Of course."
They sit in silence for a long time. Eventually the turbolift opens and Dukat and Yeola enter. Dukat says, "Gil Zeni, lay in a course for the Arawath system. Maximum warp."
"Course laid in."
"Engage." She watches as Dukat and Yeola examine the sensor station. Then Dukat turns to Damar, who cedes the command chair to him and mans the tactical station.
"Feeling alright, Damar?" Dukat asks.
"Dr. Ghoren gave me a stimulant before my shift. It helped. Sort of. And he gave me the usual lecture about my health."
"Well, you know he's right. You're not a young man anymore, Damar."
"Yes, well, if I live long enough to have liver problems, it means we've succeeded in our mission."
Dukat chuckles. "Yes, that's true." He turns to Yeola. "Are we within sensor range of the Arawath system yet?"
"Entering sensor range now," she reports. "I'm reading no activity."
"No surprise there," Zeni says. "There's been a Klingon warship active in that sector for months. It's brought civilian traffic to a halt."
"Bring the upgrades online."
"Transphasic sensors activated," Yeola announces. "No activity… wait. I'm getting something. Bearing 444 mark 12. It could be nothing."
"Bring us in closer, Zeni. Let's see what we've got."
"Bringing us in."
The stars continue to streak by in front of them. "What are we supposed to be looking for?" Damar asks.
"You'll know soon enough."
Yeola's console beeps. She turns to Dukat. "It's a positive, sir. I'm sending the coordinates to tactical."
"What am I looking at?" Damar inquires.
"You'll see. Gil Zeni, drop out of warp. Damar, lock on to those coordinates, and drop cloak and open fire on my mark."
"Target locked."
Dukat steeples his fingers. "Now."
The Naprem decloaks and fires a spread of photon torpedoes. They explode against a seemingly empty area of space, and there is a bright flash of light. Pieces of a Klingon bird of prey materialize from the explosion.
Damar and Zeni stare at the screen, shocked. Dukat smiles at Yeola. "Very impressive, Yeola. You have proven your usefulness."
"Thank you, Gul Dukat." She hesitates. "I expect you're considering killing me now."
He eyes her. "It had crossed my mind." To Damar and Zeni, "Yeola is a Vorta. A member of the Dominion. She's offered to help us since, as she claims, we have a common enemy in the Klingons."
Yeola bristles. "You said you would not tell your crew."
"I trust my crew implicitly, Vorta. They deserve to know."
"Perhaps the Cardassians. But the Kressari –"
"My ship. My rules." He draws his disruptor and points it at her. "Damar, Zeni, tell me – what do you think I should do?"
Damar eyes the Vorta. "Can she be of any further use to us?"
"I have a great deal of intelligence I can offer you," she says emotionlessly.
"I don't know," Zeni says. "They destroyed the Obsidian Order. They've killed thousands of Cardassians. And they're the reason the Klingons attacked us in the first place. I wouldn't take the risk."
Dukat keeps his disruptor trained on her for a moment, then lowers it. "I'm not prepared to squander a proven military asset just yet. She stays. For now." To Zeni, "Resume course for Bryma. And drop a message buoy in the wreckage of that ship. Tell the Arawath colony we've solved their Klingon problem."
"Do you really trust her?" Zeni asks, stroking Dukat's arm as they lie in bed.
"Of course not. But the fact is, we don't have many allies right now. We need all the help we can get. And I'm certain she hasn't told us everything she knows about the Klingons yet. She's well aware we'd have no reason to keep her alive if she did."
"But why would the Dominion want to help us?"
"I think she's telling the truth that they're concerned about the Klingons. They know that as long as the Klingons are preoccupied with us, they can't mount an invasion of the Gamma Quadrant."
She rolls over and props her head up on her hand. "What if it's more than that? She said something to me on the bridge. Something about making Cardassia greater than we can imagine. What if they want to make Cardassia part of the Dominion?"
Dukat runs his hand on her side. "Well, if that's true, they've come to the wrong place. If they wanted to do that, they'd be better off sending some Founders to infiltrate the Council." He leans in. "But enough about her. I believe you said you'd try that Bajoran move I told you about?"
Over the intercom, Damar says, "Approaching Bryma system. Gul Dukat to the bridge."
Zeni grins and shrugs. "Another time, perhaps," Dukat says.
"Definitely." They press their palms together.
A few minutes later, they are on the bridge. Zeni replaces Damar at the helm, and Dukat takes the captain's chair. "Status report."
"I'm reading one Galor-class warship and two Hideki-class fighters in orbit of Bryma," Yeola reports. "No sign of cloaked ships. But they will be coming."
Dukat says, "That's Gul Evek's ship, the Vetar. Damar, drop cloak."
"Decloaking. The Vetar is powering weapons."
"Open a channel," Dukat orders.
"Channel open."
"Gul Evek, my old friend," Dukat says. "Sorry to alarm you."
Evek's face appears on the viewscreen. "Dukat! You old bastard. What do you think you're doing, sneaking up on me like that?"
"One can never be too careful in these times. I can't exactly be public with my itinerary."
Evek laughs. "No, I suppose not. You know, the Detapa Council considers you a threat to their legitimacy. I'm supposed to arrest you on sight."
"And is that an order you intend to follow?"
"Hah. Hardly. They'd string my body up in the parade square in Bryma City. There's no love for the Detapa Council out here. You, on the other hand, are considered one of the last of the true patriots."
"Well, I've heard they hold you in similar esteem."
Evek sighs. "I do what I can to protect my home. But the terrorists are bolder every day, and the Council refuses to commit any resources to help us. They consider the DMZ colonies to be a lost cause." He pauses. "But we can talk politics over a bottle of kanar. First, let's get you off that piece of Klingon garbage."
"I would appreciate that," Dukat replies. "It's been a long time since my men breathed fresh air. And we have much to discuss."
"Understood. I'll have a maintenance crew take a look at your ship. Meet me at the primary barracks in Bryma City in an hour." He nods. "It's good to see a friendly face. Evek out."
Zeni says, "I had no idea things were so desperate out here."
"For all their talk about freedom of the press, the Detapa Council are just as selective as the military about what the Cardassian people hear about," Dukat muses. "Hopefully we can prevent things from getting worse. Take us in to Bryma and engage landing protocols."
"Aye, sir."
Dukat and Evek sit at a table on the roof of the command compound in the main barracks overlooking Bryma City. Through a thick layer of yellow clouds, the massive sun sets over a distant mountain range, and the spires and obelisks of the city skyline cast shadows on the streets below.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Evek asks, sipping his kanar.
"It reminds me very much of home," Dukat nods.
"For me, this is home," Evek says wistfully. "My ancestors were among the original settlers here two centuries ago. They built this world from a wasteland inhabited by primitive tribes to the most prosperous colony in the sector, and one of the best-performing economies in the Empire." He points to a large obelisk in the city square. "That monument commemorates the dead from the Fourth Order during the Federation war. They saw more combat than any other order during that war, and single-handedly kept Cardassia's front secure. Two of my sons' names are inscribed there."
Dukat leans forward. "Bryma will never fall. You have my word."
Evek shakes his head. "With the Klingons behind them, the terrorists have grown bolder than ever. They know that if Bryma falls, the sector is theirs. We need to protect our women and children from those creatures. If they are mounting an attack, we need to be prepared to evacuate."
"Evacuating ten million people on short notice will not be easy. And I suspect the Detapa Council will be of little use."
"I've spoken to a contact in the Federation. Jaresh-Inyo may be as unwilling to stand up to the Klingons as the Council, but I may be able to secure a Federation escort in the event of an emergency evacuation."
Dukat sips his kanar. "It sickens me to rely on the Federation."
"It makes a mockery of my sons' sacrifice. And yet, I've met good men in the Federation. In my opinion, the problem is their form of government. Civilian rule. Democracy. It encourages weakness, delay, dithering, and compromise. The true purpose of government is to maintain order, which requires the iron will of military men. The Federation has poisoned our people with their perverse ideals. Still, we must rely on them. Believe me, my friend, if there was another option I would take it."
"We don't seem to have many allies, do we?"
"Well, you are here. That's something, at least." He takes a drink. "Tell me about this contact of yours. The one with intelligence on the terrorists' activity."
Dukat leans forward and lowers his voice. "Let's just say she represents powerful interests with a stake in seeing the Klingons stopped."
"A Romulan?"
"No. Other interests. From beyond the Bajoran wormhole."
Evek's eyes widen. "I see. Potentially a very powerful ally."
"And a very dangerous one."
"These are dangerous times."
A heavy-set man walks to them. Evek stands and says to Dukat, "Well, the good news is we may be able to confirm what your contact said about an impending Maquis attack. Dukat, I'd like you to meet Gul Madred. He's been in the process of extracting information from a high-ranking Maquis we captured recently."
Dukat and Madred shake hands. "Yes, I believe we met once. On Bajor, perhaps?"
"Yes," Madred answers. "It was shortly after you were installed as prefect. I was a glinn under Gul Darhe'el at the time." He turns to Evek. "I regret to tell you that the captive has been harder to break than I'd anticipated."
"Perhaps Gul Dukat should have a chat with her – he's had some experience getting Bajorans to talk. Take him to the captive. Dukat, you and I will talk tomorrow. I told my wife to prepare dinner for you."
"You're too kind, Evek." He finishes his kanar and turns to Madred. "Lead the way."
Madred takes him through the barracks to a jump ship. They enter the craft and Madred says, "Detention complex, Ulenian mountain range."
As the ship speeds away from the city, Dukat asks, "Tell me about this prisoner. Who is she?"
"She's a high-ranking Maquis commander known as the Vedek. After defecting from Starfleet, she apparently experienced some kind of religious awakening, and has indoctrinated her cell with her violent, extremist beliefs."
"Ah yes, the Bajoran religion. Try as we might, we could never get them to abandon it."
"It's superstitious nonsense, if you ask me."
"Perhaps. But I've been studying their apocalyptic literature lately. There are many fascinating parallels with our own Hebitian mythology, which is perhaps less surprising now that we know about the ancient ties between our two peoples. I believe that a proper use of their religion may prove useful in weakening her convictions."
Madred smirks. "If you want to further weaken her convictions, I can give you some time alone with her. She is quite beautiful, and I've heard you like your Bajoran women."
Dukat's smile melts, and he punches Madred in the jaw. The other gul falls to the floor and shields his face with his arm.
"I'll have you know that my Bajoran mistresses were with me because they loved me!"
"You can't hit a gul of the Fourth Order!" Madred wipes the blood from his mouth and climbs to his feet.
"You're welcome to lodge a complaint with Gul Evek." The ship docks with a compound built into the side of a mountain and the door slides open. Silently, Madred leads Dukat through a turbolift to a dimly-lit room. A naked Bajoran woman hangs from her wrists in the centre of the room. Four lights shine on her face.
Madred glares at Dukat, then leads him into the room. "Gul Dukat, meet Ro Laren."
"Thank you, Gul Madred. If you would be so kind, I would like to have a private chat with Ms. Ro."
Madred scowls and returns to the lift. Dukat sits at a desk under the lights and examines the prisoner. Her face is swollen under her dark hair. A small device has been implanted in her chest. Gradually, she opens her eyes and looks at Dukat. She starts to laugh.
"May I ask what's so amusing?"
She stares past him. "No one can say you don't have a sense of humour. The former prefect of Bajor! Your sense of irony is impeccable."
Dukat peers at her. "My sense of irony?"
She casts her eyes upward. "I will meet this test as I have met every test you have sent me, with joy and gratitude. My imperfections will be seared away, leaving only the purity of my pagh."
Dukat stands and walks towards her. "The Prophets can't hear you, Laren. And if they could, they wouldn't help you. There's only you and me."
"I will be an instrument of your will," she continues. "The impurities of my former life will be purged." She begins chanting an ancient Bajoran prayer.
"'The poison must be purged away, so that the land may be reborn,'" Dukat quotes.
She stops chanting and stares at him for the first time. "Talnot's Prophecy of the Final Days."
"These are your final days, Laren," Dukat says in a low voice. "And your Prophets have abandoned you to your enemies. To me. Just as they abandoned your people to Cardassia. You think they care about your people, but it seems quite clear to me: they want you to suffer."
"You're not Gul Dukat at all. I know who you are." She stares into his eyes. "You are the Kosst Amojan."
Dukat's eyes widen, then he grins darkly. "Yes. I am the Kosst Amojan. I am the Pah-wraith. The Prophets have abandoned you, but I have come to set you free."
She spits on him. "You've come to tempt me."
"You misunderstand, child," Dukat says. He walks towards her and puts his hand on her face. "I am here because I love you. To show you the true love of the Pah-wraiths. You believe the Prophets consider the Bajoran people their children. Tell me, what parent would stand by while their child is treated as you have been treated?"
"Get away from me, evil one," Ro says, her voice shaking.
"But I," he whispers, his face inches from hers, "I have come to set you free. To show you the benevolence of the true gods of Bajor."
"No." She struggles against her restraints.
"Embrace the love of the Kosst Amojan." He presses his body against hers, his hand on her back. In her ear, he whispers, "Tell me what the Maquis are planning. Confess your failings to me, and I will release you."
"Be GONE!" She butts him in the temple with her forehead, and he stumbles away from her. He glares at her for a moment, clutching his head, then walks back to the desk. "Your faith is strong, but misguided," he tells her, adjusting the controls on the desk. "I regret that I have to do this, but it's for your own good." He activates the implant in her chest, and her body contorts in pain.
"I…" she gasps. "I am an instrument of the Prophets' will…"
"Think about what I've said," he tells her. "I will be back."
He leaves the interrogation chamber, and the door closes on her screams.
"My word, Mirani, this is delicious. Gul Evek, I must say that you have married the greatest cook in the entire Cardassian Union," Dukat says.
Mirani blushes. "Are you sure it's not because you've gotten used to eating whatever garbage comes from those Klingon replicators?"
"I stand by what I said. Don't you agree, Yeola?"
The Vorta, clad in a low-cut purple dress, looks around the luxurious dining room. "Actually, I have no sense of taste."
"What a shame," Madred says. "It is exquisite."
"I prepared the yamok sauce," Madred's wife adds.
"I'm certain it's quite delicious." Yeola glances at Dukat.
They continue to eat, and Evek and Madred's children whisper to each other. Suddenly, Madred's daughter says, "Father, why is there an alien at the table?"
"Jil!" Madred hisses. "Mind your manners."
Evek chuckles. "A good question." He looks at the young girl. "Yeola is a friend of the Cardassian people. We have very few friends in these times."
"Will she help us kill the terrorists and the Klingons?"
Yeola smiles. "I want to help, child. You see, I know that the Cardassian people are the natural rulers of the Alpha Quadrant." The child beams.
Madred turns to Dukat. "I must compliment you on the work you did with the Bajoran terrorist. I never would have thought to use their primitive superstitions against them!"
Dukat grins. "One of the issues with being an enlightened race is that we sometimes forget the power that superstition has over the minds of more backwards peoples. The terrorist thought I was a demon from Bajoran mythology. So, naturally, I ran with it, and it proved quite effective, as you can see." He gestures to the bruise near his eye. "I'll have to study the Bajoran texts further – I think I can play a rather effective demon." He turns to the children. "Boo!" They giggle.
Evek's young son says, "Father, I'm finished eating. May I play with Gul Madred's boys?"
"Yes, you may," Evek tells him.
"Father, may we go too?" Jil asks Madred.
"First you must help your mother and Mirani with the chores."
The women stand. "Come, girls," Mirani says. "Let's clear the table and let the men speak with Yeola."
"How come she doesn't have to do chores?" asks one of Evek's daughters.
"Don't question your mother."
Evek presses his palm against Mirani's as she leads the girls into the kitchen. The three guls and Yeola adjourn to Evek's sitting room, and Evek pulls an ornate bottle from an antique liquor cabinet. "This is a bottle of Coric '22, given to me by Legate Turrel. It is one of only four in existence." He pops the cork.
"Evek, I'm honoured," Dukat says. "You certainly know how to make a man feel welcome."
"It's not often that we have such esteemed guests," Evek grins. "And if the Maquis overrun this colony, I don't want to die without having tasted it."
"I can understand that."
Evek pours four shots and gives one to each of them. "I'm afraid it will be lost on me," Yeola tells him.
"If you're a friend of Cardassia, you should experience the best of Cardassian culture," he replies.
They drink, and Evek looks out the studio window at the boys playing in his yard underneath the yellow clouds. "There," Evek says to Yeola. "Do you see that? That is why we fight. For our families – our future. Do you have a family, Yeola? A husband? Children?"
"I'm a clone. I was bred in a facility on the Vorta homeworld in the Gamma Quadrant. While I've worked with other Vorta who I would consider friends, my loyalty is to the Founders alone."
"I see." He turns from the window. "In time, I hope you will come to gain an appreciation for the Cardassian way of life. Especially if you accept what I am about to propose."
She raises an eyebrow, and Dukat and Madred peer at him quizzically. Evek says, "Please, sit down."
They sit, and Evek takes another sip of his drink, and closes his eyes and nods. "Exquisite." He looks up. "Gentlemen, Bryma is doomed. I've exhausted my contacts in the Detapa Council, but they tell me they simply cannot reinforce our position. It's only a matter of time before the Maquis or the Klingons realize it."
"It's a short-sighted decision," Madred says angrily. "If Bryma falls, refugees will pour in from across this sector to the homeworld. Cardassia already can't feed its people. How can they handle millions more destitute migrants?"
Evek replies, "They can't see it on the homeworld under the protective shadow of the fleet, but the Empire is on the verge of complete disintegration. We cannot rely on the Federation or the Romulans to stand up to the Klingons. My best strategic estimate is that we will lose ninety percent of our territory within the next decade. The humanitarian consequences, of course, will be catastrophic."
Yeola nods. "The Founders have made a similar assessment."
"Then they also know that with Cardassian space under Klingon occupation, Terok Nor and the wormhole will be an easy target. They will come for you next."
"That's why the Founders have sent me to help Gul Dukat."
"Gul Dukat may be a great man. A hero of Cardassia, even. But he is only one man."
"Evek," Dukat says, "What are you suggesting?"
"I am suggesting a more formal level of cooperation between our peoples. With the Dominion's help, we can secure our borders, and prevent the Klingons from ever setting foot on Dominion soil."
Yeola takes a drink and looks puzzled for a moment. Then she replies, "I have attempted to make overtures for such an agreement with your government. They refuse to respond to us. They cite the Omarion Nebula incident – they say we can't be trusted."
"What they're really afraid of is further provoking the Klingons," Evek says. "Through their cowardice and unwillingness to protect their people, the Detapa Council have lost all legitimacy as Cardassia's government. We need a real leader. Someone whose courage embodies the will of the Cardassian people." He turns. "That leader is Gul Dukat."
Yeola and Madred stare at him. "Are you suggesting I lead a Dominion-backed coup d'etat against the Cardassian government?" he asks.
"You are the perfect person to do it. You're a hero on Cardassia, Dukat. People will listen to you if you tell them this is in our best interests."
Dukat glances at Yeola. "No offence, but in our current state, we'd be the junior partner in that arrangement. How do we know we wouldn't be completely subsumed into the Dominion? I won't have history remember me as the man who cost Cardassia its sovereignty."
"What sovereignty?" Evek asks. "We are a civilized people on the verge of being overrun by barbarians. The alternative is leaving our children to the mercy of the Klingons."
Yeola looks at Dukat. "Being part of the Dominion does not mean sacrificing your sovereignty. We have races in the Dominion which maintain considerable latitude over their affairs, such as the Dosi and the Karemma. You could maintain your autonomy except when it conflicts with the will of the Founders. And in exchange, we will guarantee you supremacy over all the races of the Alpha Quadrant."
Dukat slams his glass on an end table. "This is insane."
"Think about your people, Dukat," Evek shouts.
"I am thinking about my people! I will not sell them out to the Dominion or to anyone." He gestures at Yeola and stands. "Can't we have an alliance of some kind? A military pact, short of Cardassia becoming a full part of the Dominion?"
"The Founders prefer more formal arrangements." Yeola glances at Madred. "If Dukat will not agree to this, perhaps someone else will."
"It must be Dukat," Evek tells her. "Only he has the credibility to win the support of the military. Dukat, you must be familiar with Meditations on a Crimson Shadow."
"Preloc's work? Yes, of course I am," Dukat snaps, pacing angrily.
"Do you remember the soliloquy by Anjoten the Pure, when he is forced to sacrifice himself and his entire family to awaken the Legion of the Void?"
Dukat stops pacing and says softly, "'O, hear me, Ancient Ones/I stand before you, bound by duty/My destiny branded upon my heart/Take ye these, the best of Cardassia/May this sacrifice of angels purify our people/And grant us a victory which will endure until the end of time.'"
"This is not about you, Dukat. It was never about you. It is about your duty to your people. Your duty to become a symbol for them, even if it's a symbol of something you despise. Your people need you to do this. You know this is the only way."
Dukat's comm unit beeps. He touches it. "What is it?"
"Gul Dukat, sir," comes Damar's voice. "We're getting a reading on the long-range sensors. It could be cloaked Maquis ships."
"Beam us aboard and prepare to intercept." He closes the comm and faces Evek. "I will never betray my people to the Dominion. Better we die free than live as their subjects." To Yeola, "You. Come with me."
She nods. "I will do as you say, Gul Dukat."
As they dematerialize, Yeola stares into Evek's eyes for a long moment.
"We're approaching the location of the ships, sir," Zeni announces.
"Match their speed and heading, and maintain cloak," Dukat orders. "Yeola, how many ships are you reading?"
"It appears to be ten Condor-class ships, sir, plus two ships which appear to be modified transports."
"Those will be full of ordnance to breach the colony's shields." Dukat steeples his fingers. "We can't fight a fleet that size. But if we disable those transports, we may be able to hold out against the rest of the fleet long enough to call in reinforcements."
"We'll only have a few seconds to hit the freighters before the ships decloak and attack us," Damar advises him.
"Well then, we'll just have to do this in a few seconds. Target the transports' warp cores and prepare to drop cloak on my mark."
"Targets acquired."
"Mark."
The Naprem shimmers into being and fires a volley of torpedoes, then another. They explode silently, and two bulky ships appear. One of them lists out of warp, while the other detonates in a massive fireball which strikes the Naprem. Sparks fall from the ceiling and a klaxon begins to sound.
Over the intercom, Yax'et says, "That hit overloaded our EPS relays, sir. Warp drive is offline."
Zeni reports, "Sir, the other ships are decloaking and coming about."
"Do we still have cloak?"
"Yes, sir," Damar tells him.
"Cloak and get us out of here, maximum impulse. Yax'et, I need the warp core online. Now."
The Maquis ships begin firing charges around them. One explodes near the Naprem and rocks the ship.
"Evasive manoeuvres!" Dukat calls, and Zeni banks the ship away from an incoming charge. The Maquis continue to fire, but the explosions become more distant.
"The enemy ships are recloaking and resuming their original course," Yeola tells him.
"Wait until they're out of range, then decloak and send a message to Gul Evek. Tell him they're coming." He hits his comm unit. "Yax'et, the warp drive!"
"I'll have it online in twenty minutes, sir!" the Kressari replies.
"If it's not online in ten minutes, you are a dead man."
"I'm as much bound by the laws of physics as you are, sir," Yax'et says testily as smoke pours from the damaged engine.
They wait in tense silence for what seems to be an eternity as Dukat paces angrily. Finally, Yax'et announces, "Sir, I can get you Warp 6. If we go above that, I guarantee you that the only thing that will reach Bryma will be our atoms."
"Warp 6, Gil Zeni."
The Naprem returns to warp. Yeola examines her console. "Sir, our two patrol ships and the Vetar have engaged the Maquis."
"Drop cloak and divert all power to engines." Dukat slams the arm of his chair. "Yax'et, take us to Warp 7."
"Sir, I would very strongly advise against that," Yax'et retorts.
"DO IT!" Dukat bellows.
"Taking us to Warp 7."
The ship shakes violently and the lights flicker. Yeola falls to the ground, then stands, pulling the strap of her dress back over her shoulder and brushing the hair from her eyes. "One of our patrol ships has been destroyed, and it looks like two of the Maquis ships have been disabled. The Vetar is taking heavy damage. Two of the Maquis ships have gone after the colony."
"How long until we're in range?"
"Thirty seconds," Zeni shouts over the noise.
"The warp core is about to overload!" Yax'et calls over the intercom.
"Just a few more seconds," Dukat says for gritted teeth.
"Entering range!"
"Slow to impulse and power weapons!"
The Naprem streaks out of warp towards the small ships swarming around the warship, peppering it with blue phaser blasts. A disruptor bolt from the aft of the Vetar strikes one of the ships, and it explodes.
"The Vetar is hailing us!" Yeola reports.
"On screen!"
A grainy image of Evek flickers into being, his voice intermittently obscured by static. "…defend the colony… contacted the Detapa Council, but they said they can't divert any ships… reached my contact from the Federation, but he can't reach us until…"
There is a flash on the screen, and a green blast erupts from the bridge of the Vetar. As they watch, explosions ripple through the cruiser, and it breaks apart.
"EVEK!" Dukat cries.
"The Maquis ships are moving to engage us," Damar says.
"Fire on the lead ship, then bring us about. Keep them away from the colony." Dukat leans forward in his chair.
The Naprem strafes one of the ships and it is wracked by explosions. The other ships open fire en masse, battering the Naprem with phaser fire.
"Sir, our other patrol ship is losing life support," reports Damar.
"Gil Zeni, can you keep those ships off us long enough to beam the survivors aboard?"
"I think so, sir. I'll do a Crazy Thalek!"
"What is a Crazy Thalek?" Dukat barks.
"It's when you –"
"Never mind, just do it! Damar, drop shields and beam the survivors aboard! Now!"
The thruster on the Naprem's starboard wing cuts out and the ship spins in an arc, then returns to full impulse, speeding directly below the Maquis ships. They cut their engines, spin, and re-engage to follow the Naprem.
"I have them, sir!" Damar calls. "Bringing shields back online"
"Bring us to bearing 141 mark 3, and fire at the nearest ship!"
The Naprem veers upwards and fires disruptors on a Maquis ship. Its lights flicker, then go out, and it drifts in space. The three remaining Maquis ships unleash a volley of torpedoes which strike along the aft section of the Naprem.
The ship groans under the impact. Damar shouts, "That last hit took out our disruptor targeting system! Shields are offline!"
"The Maquis are breaking off and going for the colony!" Zeni says.
"Why aren't they finishing the job?" Dukat snarls.
"It's because there's a Sovereign-class Federation cruiser en route," Yeola announces. "They want to breach the colony's shield before it gets here. And they know we've been neutralized." She looks down. "Sir, a Maquis ship is hailing us. One of the ones attacking the colony."
"On screen."
The Vedek sits in the command chair, clad in an orange jumpsuit. Her face is still swollen, her hair matted. She stares at him with disgust. "Dukat."
"Laren. I see your men freed you from our custody. A shame – I was hoping we'd get to chat again."
"Get ready to witness the righteous judgment of the Prophets, Dukat. The divine vengeance of the gods of Bajor."
"In case you hadn't noticed, the Federation will be here momentarily. Go back to the Badlands before you get hurt."
She stares at him, her eyes wide. "I don't think so. We'll have this shield down long before they get here. Do you know what will happen when we fly one of our ships into your city at warp speed?"
Dukat stands. "You would kill millions of innocent Cardassians?"
"No Cardassian is innocent. And don't pretend for a second that you wouldn't do the exact same thing to us." She ends the transmission.
"She's right, sir," Damar says. "They'll have that shield down in three minutes. The Federation will be here in twenty."
"How many torpedoes do we have left?"
Yeola turns to him. "Dukat, we don't stand a chance against them without shields. We'll be destroyed in seconds. There is nothing we can do for them – we should escape while we still can."
He gazes at the viewscreen as the distant ships fire blue flashes towards the yellow planet. Shaking his head, he says, "We have to try. Zeni, lay in a course…"
"The Federation ship is hailing us, sir," Yeola announces.
He takes a deep breath. "On screen."
A human appears on the viewscreen. "This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the USS Enterprise."
"Captain," Dukat begins, "those terrorists are going to…"
"Yes, we know what she said. Listen to me very carefully: you must surrender the planet to them. Immediately."
"Surrender the planet…?"
"It is the only way to save the colonists." The small human stands, tugging his uniform. "The Federation Directive on Non-Combatants will apply; we can send ships to evacuate them."
"To where? They have nowhere to go."
"No matter where they go, they will be alive. But for that to happen, you must act quickly, Gul Dukat."
"How do you know the Vedek won't destroy the colony anyway?" Dukat snaps.
In a measured voice, Picard says, "I have had… dealings with Ro Laren before. I can convince her to spare the colonists."
Dukat and Picard stare at each other for a long moment. Then Dukat says, "Very well, Picard."
"Good. I will contact Starfleet to prepare the evacuation. I think you should keep our channel open when you talk to the Vedek. She will listen to me." He looks pained.
Dukat scowls. To Yeola, "Hail the Vedek's ship."
"Channel open."
He glares at the Bajoran. Through clenched teeth, "Ro Laren of the Maquis, on behalf of the people of the Bryma colony, I offer our surrender. State your terms."
"There will be no surrender," the Vedek says. "The Cardassians will know the wrath of the Prophets."
On Picard's bridge, a crewman stands up from his post and peers at the viewscreen with emotionless yellow eyes. "Captain Ro, you are forgetting stanza four nineteen of the Scroll of Bala Ven. 'When you have overrun your enemies by the grace of the Prophets, do not put them to the sword, but grant them mercy, for he who shows compassion to his enemies is most favoured in the eyes of the Prophets.'"
"Don't presume to quote the Scrolls to me, android."
"Consider also Horran's First Prophecy: 'The Chosen One shall stand before his enemies like a righteous king, and they shall bow before him. And he shall spare them, for the fire of the Prophets' mercy burns in his heart.' And section one thousand eighty six of the Code of Dal'shaesh: 'The denizens of a conquered city must be given the chance to swear allegiance to the conquerors. If they will not swear fealty, they may be expelled, but they must not be killed nor maimed.' Furthermore, the Second Treatise on –"
Picard holds up his hand. "As you can see, the law of the Prophets is clear on what you must do." He steps toward the screen. "And I know you, Laren. You would not commit a massacre."
"I'm not the person you think you know, Picard. I've been reborn." She glowers at him. "But I will accept the Cardassians' surrender. They will have seven days to evacuate. Then the planet is ours."
"You're doing the right thing, Laren," says a dark-eyed woman seated next to Picard.
"One more thing," the Vedek says, looking up. "Him. The war criminal Gul Dukat. He will personally surrender to face the justice of the Prophets."
Dukat's crew turns to him. After a moment of silence, he says, "Very well. I'll transport to your ship."
"Then I accept your surrender, Gul Dukat, on behalf of the Maquis Confederacy. The Prophets be praised." She ends the transmission. Gul Dukat follows suit.
"Sir, you can't go over there," Damar protests.
"I don't intend to, Damar. Do we still have the cloaking device?"
"Yes, sir."
"Prepare to engage."
Zeni asks, "What about the colonists?"
"It's too late for them to get through the shield before the Enterprise arrives." Dukat sits down. "But it doesn't matter; the Vedek has what she wants. She won't scuttle the deal just because of me."
"If the Federation had any decency, they'd scuttle the deal themselves by destroying those terrorists," Damar says.
"They'd be back," replies Dukat, fingers steepled. "And it's clear that we can't rely on the Federation to protect us." He taps his comm. "Dr. Ghoren, are the survivors from the patrol ship aboard?"
"Yes, sir. Gul Madred is among them."
Dukat patches his comm throughout the ship. "This is Gul Dukat. It's time for us to leave this system. But make no mistake: we will be back. This I vow to each one of you. We embark on a new mission, one that will reshape the quadrant. We will not rest until Cardassia is made whole, until the very mention of our people brings terror to the hearts of our enemies. We will bring about a new age for Cardassia, by the power of our will."
He ends the transmission. "Damar, engage cloak. Zeni, get us out of here, maximum warp."
The Naprem shimmers into nothingness.
TO BE CONCLUDED…
