A/N: I have very little idea where this is going but I hope to be updating regularly! Also, it's been a while since I wrote a Dukat fic. Enjoy!

She had been following the Cardassian for what could have been hours but what was probably closer to ten minutes. As she walked, her eyes met the gazes of those that she walked past. They weren't like her, they weren't human. When a Bajoran saw her, a look of revulsion instantly overtook their features, until they were elbowed by gruff Cardassian overseers and forced back to work.

"Where are you taking me?" she demanded, after having plucked up the courage to ask him.

"You sound worried," he observed, without stopping, slowing down or turning to face her. "There is no need to be, I assure you."

She scowled. "Answer my question: Where are you taking me?"

The gul glanced around himself, surveying his empire. He smiled grimly. "It used to be such a beautiful place. Bajorans and Cardassians working together as one, for a better cause. But now, what can I say? The station's falling apart!" He tutted and shook his head. "And, if I really must respond to your question, I will. I'm taking you away from here."

"The shuttle-bays were back there," she murmured, struggling to understand her whereabouts. A look out of the windows had assured her that she was in space, but that was all that she knew, and it was not a very comforting thought.

Dukat tried to ignore the smell of ore as it was processed. He laughed. "We're not going to the shuttle-bays."

"Then, where are we-" Her question was cut short when Dukat led her up a staircase. Below it, she could survey what the gul had called the Promenade, a busy, over-populated metropolis of shops and bars. A Ferengi bartender was bustling about down below. The Cardassian stopped and motioned her through what looked like the main operations centre. A crowd of Cardassian soldiers turned to look at her, but she overcame the desire to hang her head and not make eye-contact.

A gruff lieutenant came up to Dukat. "Sir, I'm getting reports that our forces on Setlik III are struggling to cope. Should I send reinforcements?"

Dukat pinched the bridge of his nose, aware that the young woman at his side was getting more and more agitated. "Damar, why don't you contact the Central Command? Stop making me do all of these things!"

You're a busy man, Damar thought to himself, his interest piqued by the beautiful young woman hovering next to his commander. "I've tried sending a transmission to the Central Command, but they're not replying. I doubt that they even care. Sir."

Dukat groaned, and then he waved Damar back over to his station. "Just keep me updated. We can't spare any more troops. Send none to Setlik III."

"But, Sir-" Damar started, concern overcoming his features.

"Damar," Dukat said forcefully.

"They'll die without support!"

"That may be," Dukat said quietly. "But we're stretched as it is. You know that as well as I. We're fighting two battles here: the Bajoran resistance and the Federation!"

Corina rolled her eyes. Perhaps you should just give in? she mused to herself. You're fighting a losing battle. The Federation will defeat you and the Occupation will continue for not much longer.

When Damar was finally satisfied with Dukat's words, Dukat led Corina away from Ops and into a small room that came off of it.

"I'm sorry you had to listen to all of that," he said bluntly, lowering himself into his chair. The computer terminal beeped at him almost as soon as he had sat down. He didn't quieten it straight away.

"Shouldn't you-" she started, nodding to the computer.

Dukat cut off the transmission angrily, rubbing his forehead. "You've heard of kanar, haven't you?"

Corina raised an eyebrow. "No. I have not." She wondered what it was, hoping desperately that it wouldn't be akin to Ferengi oo-mox.

Dukat gestured to a cabinet to the side of the room. He smiled at her when she hesitated. She went over to the cabinet and then picked up a bottle of a black liquid. When she poured it into a glass, it was viscous and syrupy.

"And one for yourself," he said, rather too kindly.

She did just that, and then she carried the two glasses over to the desk.

"Sit down."

She sat down.

He downed the kanar in little more than one gulp. "I always find that kanar calms one's mind."

She nodded slowly, unsure of where he was getting at. She sipped tentatively at the drink. It was very sweet and very thick, and she could hardly manage more than one sip.

"I'll drink the rest later."

"Oh, so you plan on staying here a long time, then?" Dukat asked, with a raised eye-ridge.

Corina cleared her throat and sighed. "No… no, I didn't mean it like that."

"Because I wouldn't object if you did mean it like that." His blue eyes bored into hers.

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Looking over his head and out at the stars beyond, she said, "I'm on Terok Nor, aren't I?"

He didn't reply.

"Just answer my question. I'm not in the mood for playing games."

"With all due respect, my dear, I really don't think you're in a position to make such demands," he said simply.

She couldn't argue with that. He had, for all intents and purposes, rescued her, and she supposed that she had to feel somewhat thankful for that. "You're the station commander here, am I right?"

He nodded. His own vanity meant that he had to reply with a broad smile. "I control the entire space station."

She raised an eyebrow at his thinly-veiled arrogance. "You know me, don't you? When you… caught me in that corridor, you said that you knew my name."

"I know a lot of things."

"Please," she started, suddenly quite desperate. "Sir-"

He raised a finger. "Dukat." He sighed and leant forward in his chair, his hands forming a steeple on the desk. He was very close to her. "I, as I have told you, command the Second Order. The gentleman with whom you appear to have grown acquainted was Gul Telok. He commands the Sixth Order. His men are nowhere near as governed, as disciplined as mine." He smiled. "But I digress."

You do, she agreed. "I don't understand any of this. What am I supposed to have done wrong? I'm human. I'm not Bajoran. What quarrel do you have with me?"

"You are aware that the Cardassian Union is presently at war with your Federation?" he inquired.

"Yes. Of course I am," she replied bluntly. "Oh, God," she then whispered, clamping a hand to her open mouth. "My brother."

"Pardon?"

She shook her head and stood up, about to make for the door. Where she was going to go, she had no idea. She was in the middle of space on an alien space station. She was light-years away from any aid. The Cardassians here hated her because the Federation was at war with them, and the Bajorans hated her because the Federation had done nothing to stop the Occupation.

But she didn't have much time to consider that because had walked over to her and had placed a restraining hand on her arm.

"How far do you think you'd go, really?" he asked, but it wasn't maliciously. He didn't sound particularly concerned for her welfare, either. "You know, Starfleet is at best a week away, and that's at warp nine. "My people have contacts within the Orion Syndicate. Who knows what interest a young, beautiful woman such as yourself would gather?"

She yanked her arm out of his grip.

"Now. Your brother. Let us start there."

She sighed, finding it very hard not to show him that she was on the verge of tears. "My brother, he's a… I don't know."

"A wanted man?" he interjected, studying her closely.

"Yes," she admitted with a nod. "I don't really know what he's up to. I haven't heard from him in months. The last time I spoke to him, he mentioned something about wanting to get revenge."

"Revenge?" Dukat looked very intrigued indeed.

"He's in Starfleet, and he..." Her voice faded off. Feeling very faint, she thought that she might collapse. She couldn't betray him. She couldn't betray her brother. The Cardassians were ruthless and they would not let him go. "But I don't know where he is now."

"Perhaps I could alleviate some of your concern?" Dukat suggested. He went over to the computer terminal and keyed in a few commands. A file appeared on the screen. A personnel file. There was a picture of her brother's face in the top right hand corner.

"Charlton Gordon Striker," Dukat read out. "Lieutenant. Wanted for crimes against the Cardassian Empire, including sabotage, fraud and murder."

Corina's heart faltered at that last charge. Murder. But her brother wasn't a murderer, was he? "That's not right. You've doctored it! I don't know how but you have! You're so angry that you're losing against us, against the Bajorans, that you've been forced to lying. It's dishonourable and it's disgusting!"

Dukat raised an eye-ridge, interested all of a sudden. He laughed grimly. "I assure you, that file has not been changed in any way. What reason would we Cardassians have to do that? We are not losing any war."

Corina frowned and rubbed her temple.

"Ah, how interesting," Dukat carried on, regarding the computer screen. "It looks like your brother was – and still is, I presume – on none other than Setlik III."

She had heard that somewhere. What was his name? Damar? Yes, that was it. "I think you might be losing the war there," she said quietly, but nonetheless she maintained eye-contact with him.

Dukat cleared his throat. "I mentioned a tribunal to you earlier, did I not?"

She nodded waveringly.

"It would appear that this is what it is for."

"I thought you already knew what it was for?"

Dukat laughed. "We Cardassians are known across the galaxy for our deceptiveness."

Figures, she thought bitterly. "So, my trial?"

"Your brother is responsible for the death of Gul Telok's son."