Note: thanks to all for the great reviews! this story was a hoot to write for us all and we spent a wonderful summer. btw, in case I didn't mention this, we wrote this story as an AU to the beginning of the sixth season (the Occupation Arc).
now, on with it. remember to post/send us reviews!! we love them! :-)
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THE AGREEMENT
By The Collaborators
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CHAPTER EIGHT
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"Your security chief insisted I have a blood test before letting me in here to see you... when did this start, Edon? Has there been any evidence of Founders here?"
He waved away her concern. "Just a formality Nerys -- the Council of Ministers voted to insist on blood tests for all personnel and visitors to government and military installations. I'm sorry for the nuisance."
He motioned for her to be seated, but did not hold out his arms for a more affectionate greeting. She felt the omission keenly -- even though they were no longer lovers. She had known Shakaar since she was a shy young girl begging to join his resistance cell. In those days, his comforting hugs had been enough to calm all her worst fears. As an adult woman, his embraces had taken on a different connotation, and, even now that their affair was over, she had no regrets about the intimacy they had shared. Now, once again, she longed for his arms as nothing other than a safe haven -- a haven he was denying her. He offered her a raktajino instead. She sat down and thanked him for the drink.
"So Edon, what's going on?"
He raised an eyebrow in surprise, "You mean you don't know?"
"No, I don't. Dukat barely spoke to me after we left here to return to the station. It was obvious that something was going on, but he certainly didn't bother sharing it with me. All I know is what he said in his little propaganda announcement... It was Damar who 'informed' me that Dukat had ordered me the hell off his station, with some lame instruction to come down here and coordinate grain shipments."
"Hmm," Shakaar smiled at her, "One might get the idea he doesn't entirely trust you. ...Well, according to my sources, there was a Federation attack on the Cardassian outpost at Minos Korva -- just a bit of a dust-up really, nothing serious."
"There must be more to it than that -- Dukat wouldn't go tearing off in the middle of the night because of some remote outpost..."
"Of course there's more to it," Shakaar snorted in disgust, "but neither the Feds nor the spoonheads are going to tell us anything, are they? We're 'neutral' in this conflict, remember?"
"Do you think the Federation fleet is going to attack Cardassia Prime?"
"I would, if I were them... and had the muscle they've got. The question is, what's Dukat going to do about it?"
Not expecting an answer to that, he began to debrief her in earnest, "Who's running the station?"
"He's left Damar in charge, and Weyoun's there as well. Odo's heading security."
"What's happened about Jake Sisko? I know you were worried about him."
She flushed before remembering that Shakaar did not know the reason for her embarrassment at his question. "Odo arranged for me to have a brief visit with Jake before I left to come down here. Damnedest thing -- he doesn't want to leave! He says he's a reporter, and he needs to be where the stories are! As if he was in any position to file stories with some news service..."
She shook her head at the thought of Jake's intransigence. He was convinced that Dukat wouldn't harm him -- despite Kira's protestation that a friendly chat about Betazoid roses didn't mean there was no danger. "At least he seems to be safe enough for the moment... I'd still like to get him out of there though. I'm afraid all hell is going to break loose before this is over."
Shakaar leaned back in his chair, every inch the concerned politician. "I can't hold out much hope, but I'll see if there's anything I can do."
For the first time, Kira noticed that his hairline was beginning to recede. It didn't bother her, really -- they were all getting older and these things were part of life. Somehow, though, it made him not quite the same person as the Shakaar Edon she thought she knew so well.
Oblivious to her scrutiny, he went on with the debriefing. "What kind of shape is the station in?"
"Repair crews have been working day and night on the computer systems. It's difficult to say how much progress they've made -- the first thing Dukat did was have all the security codes changed. Odo and I are allowed only the lowest level clearance. It seems likely that disabling the minefield is their top priority -- they'll get no reinforcements as long as the wormhole is blocked."
"What about relations between Cardassia and the Dominion? I wouldn't have thought that Dukat would make a very cooperative 'puppet' -- he's always been a little too independent for a string-puller's taste."
"Dukat and Weyoun don't trust each other. That's for certain. Sooner or later, their alliance will fall apart at the seams -- but I don't think there's much we can do to help that along..."
"I'll keep the vedeks busy praying!" He smiled at her encouragingly, but Shakaar had never been one to place much confidence in prayer.
His expression becoming pensive, he got up and wandered over to gaze out of the window behind his desk. After a long moment of silence, he mused out loud, "So, the Feds set a trap for Dukat... elsewhere... and, frankly, it suits me just fine if the worst of the fighting is elsewhere... I've no wish for a major engagement to take place in the Bajoran system -- the 'collateral damage' could wipe us out."
Kira paled as his comment. He was so matter-of-fact about the possible destruction of their entire civilization -- a civilization which had just barely been pasted back together again in the wake of the Occupation. It was the price of leadership, she supposed. He had to consider the situation dispassionately, or risk some potentially fatal oversight.
"But I must confess I'm a little disappointed, Nerys," he continued without looking in her direction. "I had hoped your situation would lead to rather more useful military intelligence..."
"What the HELL is that supposed to mean?"
"Come on Nerys, it's pretty obvious that something is going on between you and Dukat. I'd think you'd have enough sense to press the advantage..."
His observation hit the target, and all her pent-up frustration exploded. "Are you telling me to sell myself? I can't believe I'm hearing this Edon... All those years we fought the Cardassians... you never ordered -- never even hinted -- that any of us should do anything like that!"
She knew her reaction was absurd. Prostitution was exactly what she had proposed to Dukat -- all on her own initiative. Somehow though, she'd convinced herself that her offer on Jake's behalf was 'noble', while what Edon was suggesting was sleazy.
"No, I didn't, and I'm not doing so now. I'm not ordering, or even asking, you to become a prostitute... I'm begging you to be a Bajoran."
He looked at her searchingly, obviously wondering why she was so offended. Both of them knew very well that she had used sexual allure to advantage against Cardassians before -- she had done so, not at Edon's instigation, but because she would have done anything to free Bajor...
"I know he's gone at the moment and there isn't much you can do until he returns. ...but when he does... distract him Nerys, waste his time... do whatever you can to slow their efforts to deactivate the minefield... try to encourage the breach between him and Weyoun..."
"And if he doesn't return?" she asked bitterly, "Shall I throw myself at Damar for you? Or Weyoun, perhaps?"
"Damn it, Nerys." Shakaar came back to the desk and stood, resting his weight on his arms, and leaning over her as she sat opposite him. She looked up at him boldly, unimpressed by his display of aggressive body language.
"Get the picture: our situation here is desperate. Dukat wants Bajor back so badly he salivates at the mere thought... if he succeeds in disarming the minefield and getting reinforcements from the Gamma Quadrant before the Federation can stop him, our 'non-aggression pact' will be worthless. The Dominion has every intention of devouring this entire quadrant just as soon as they feel strong enough -- and if you thought life under Cardassian rule was unpleasant, just imagine what it would be like under the Jem'Hadar!"
He was right of course. She'd been in the company of evil incarnate -- sharing meals and flirting with Dukat, kissing him... even longing for him...
To make it even worse, while she certainly hadn't been converted to sharing his goals, she was finding it increasingly difficult to regard him as her 'enemy' either...
She sat back to listen to her people's leader, and to remember who and what she was.
Shakaar continued, "The only thing I can do for Bajor, is grasp hard at the few straws I have available -- you're one, Nerys, and I can think of only two others."
Chastened, she asked quietly, "What are you planning?"
"I have a little cold, hard cash -- courtesy of a bumper crop here and a Cardassian famine... I've been stockpiling weapons as fast as I can. There's an irony for you -- I'm using Cardassian latinum to buy arms just in case -- no, make that for when we have to fight them."
"Quark! ...And a certain Kressari trader..." Kira blurted out.
Shakaar nodded that her surmise was accurate.
"Dukat hasn't tried to stop you? Surely he's aware of any weapons dealers coming into this sector?" Kira asked.
"Watching me scuttle about probably amuses him no end." For the first time in all the years she had known him, Kira saw defeat and despair written across Shakaar's face. "He knows full well that my attempts to arm Bajor are an exercise in futility. If the Federation is defeated, Bajor has no chance on its own. So, no, he hasn't bothered trying to interfere in my puny little deals." "What about that third straw?"
"I have Ziyal," he said quietly.
Kira's shock pushed her right up out of her chair and into the same posture that Shakaar held.
"Edon, I don't believe you! Ziyal's no spy, she's done nothing! You wouldn't harm her! You haven't had her detained have you?"
"NO!" he reacted strongly to her accusation, but then, more calmly, attempted to explain his position. "No, of course not. But she is watched closely, and she won't be leaving Bajor without my permission. I like the girl too, but I'll use her if I have to -- to buy whatever I can. ...time. ...Bajoran lives. Surely you can see that it may become necessary..."
She shook her head, and gave a short laugh at the irony. "What I can see is that, in many ways, you're really no better than he is, are you?"
With that, she turned and walked out of the room.
---
The next few weeks on Bajor were quiet, if anxious. Kira busied herself with the minutiae of arranging food shipments to Cardassia, mentally counting up the phasers and photon torpedoes that could be bought with the latinum she was taking in. She watched, trying not to despair, as everyone who could scrape the fare together emigrated. Vast numbers were leaving Bajor for somewhere... anywhere that might be safer. This diaspora of the Bajora made her sick at heart. Her people were only just beginning to recover their lives and rebuild their culture after more than a generation of Cardassian occupation. The present threat was, if anything, even more dire. If the people abandoned their homes again now, would they ever return? On Bajor, they heard little news of the war -- just rumors.
There was fighting along the border between Cardassian and Federation-held space. Few colonists, few Federation colonists anyway, were left in those areas -- most having been driven out by the Jem'Hadar in the months preceding the outright declaration of war. Those who had remained were now refugees. But the refugees certainly did not come to Bajor -- why leave the frying pan for the fire? Sometimes the rumors claimed that the Federation had won decisive victories, sometimes they said it was the Cardassians. She'd heard nothing from, or of, her friends in Starfleet -- she prayed for them daily and at length. She prayed for their safety, and for their swift victory over the forces of evil...
She heard nothing from Dukat, either, of course -- why should she? She presumed that she would learn about it if he were dead -- Damar might tell her, just to watch her reaction. Or Weyoun. Or maybe Odo, who was still on the station, would be allowed to contact her with such news. Would the Prophets even listen if she prayed for Dukat's life to be spared? How he would laugh if he knew she had even considered it...
She permitted herself to pray that Dukat would come to accept the Prophets' guidance, lay down his arms, and seek peace. It was a cynical prayer though -- one she knew would never be answered. Only in a place beyond her rational control, a rebellious corner of her heart that declined to ask permission, did she pray for his life too.
As had become her habit, after completing the morning's quota of schedules and manifests, she entered the temple for her customary vigil. This day, she was surprised by the sight of Ziyal, eyes closed, wrists bent, deep in meditation before a Bajoran prayer mandala. Not wishing to disturb her, Kira sat quietly and turned her mind to her own devotions. It was some time before both women completed their worship and greeted each other.
"Major Kira!" Ziyal regarded Kira with unshielded delight, "I'm so glad to see you! I was afraid I would have to leave without saying goodbye!"
Ziyal's smile was warm and artless -- so unlike her father's mischievous smirk. Nonetheless, something about the daughter so resembled the father... it made Kira's heart race just to look at her.
"What's going on? What's this about you saying goodbye? Has something happened?"
"I'm leaving for Deep Space Nine -- or Terok Nor," she gave an embarrassed shrug, "this afternoon. It's all been arranged."
"Arranged? Arranged by who? Ziyal, I really don't think it's safe for you to be there -- we don't know where your father is, or what is going to happen before this was is over..." Ziyal looked surprised by Kira's words.
"You haven't heard? My father has been back on the station for three days now."
"He is safe then?" Kira blurted out before she could successfully cover her relief.
Relief was quickly chased by surprise that no one had bothered to inform her. Surprise was, in turn, supplanted by annoyance at having been kept in the dark.
"He is fine. I'm afraid though, that you and I are probably the only two individuals on this entire planet who regard that as good news!"
This time, her dancing eyes gave Ziyal's smile a more obvious resemblance to one of her father's. "He doesn't know how lucky he is to have a friend like you."
"I am not his friend!" Kira objected.
"No, of course not," Ziyal agreed, clearly just to humor her, "but he is lucky anyway..."
"When did you say your transport was leaving? Do you think there'll be room for one more?"
Kira began mentally ticking off what she needed to do in preparation for her return to the station. "I can be ready to leave in an hour."
Ziyal's amusement faded to concern. "You haven't been told any of it, have you?"
"What? What haven't I been told? If your father's back, I'd better get up to the station as soon as possible. There must have been some administrative slip-up..."
"No, Nerys, sit down. Please." Ziyal pulled Kira bodily over to the nearest bench. "I'm so sorry. I thought you knew all of this, or I'd have told you myself sooner. I'm going back to the station because First Minister Shakaar and my father have arranged a sort of trade..."
Impatiently, Kira interrupted her, "I know that, Ziyal. Bajor is selling food to Cardassia. I've been tending to all of the boring details myself..."
"No Nerys, not that trade. An exchange of 'prisoners' -- me for Jake Sisko."
"WHAT?!! But you're not a prisoner!"
"No, but it looks better to pretend that I am. I know it doesn't seem to make sense at first, but think about it. Everybody saves face... and Jake goes home. Officially he's being 'deported' by Bajor back to the Federation as an 'undesirable'..."
She giggled at the notion, but then turned serious, "Besides, at the moment, it's probably best if I don't stay here -- tensions are running pretty high."
"Well, I can't tell you how glad I am to hear that Jake is going home, but I still think you'd be safer here on Bajor. I can't help it, I worry about you!"
"I'll be all right, but thank you, anyway." She put a hand on Kira's shoulder.
Kira slapped her hands on her thighs, and started to rise. "I'd better go though, I do have a few things to throw together before we leave."
Ziyal's gentle, but firm, hand prevented Kira's attempt to get up. "That's not all," she said with regret plain to hear. "You've been replaced as the Bajoran liaison to Terok Nor. I'm so sorry Nerys, you shouldn't have had to hear this from me..."
"WHAT?" Kira burst out once again. "There must be some mistake! I'll go have a word with Edon and get this straightened out. Some stupid bureaucrat must have overstepped their authority..."
"No, Nerys," Ziyal sighed, "It was at my father's insistence -- when I heard about it, I called him myself to find out what was going on. He said he didn't want to work with you anymore -- that your overall performance had been satisfactory, but he preferred to deal with someone who hadn't been so closely linked to Starfleet. I'm sorry, but it seems he's quite serious."
"SATISFACTORY!" Kira exploded with rage. "Is that what he called me! How DARE he! No one else would have anything to do with him! Oh, I'm coming with you all right, Ziyal. I'm going to give your father a piece of my mind! When I'm through with him, he'll wish he'd stayed away -- he'll wish he was facing the entire combined Klingon and Federation fleets instead!"
Ziyal looked unsure of whether to be horrified or amused at Kira's threats against her father. "Okay. You can come with me and try to sort it out with him in person."
Evidently opting for amused, she smiled again, the expression a dead ringer for one of her father's sardonic grins, "Poor man, he really doesn't have a chance, does he?"
"Sorry Ziyal, and thank you." Kira had cooled enough to be a little embarrassed at her outburst, but she hadn't changed her mind. "I'll meet you at the shuttle-port. What time do I need to be there?"
"My transport leaves in two hours. So, meet me about 15 minutes before take- off?"
"I'll see you then." Kira got up and turned to leave.
"Ah, Nerys, one last thing -- I almost forgot. My father asked me to give you a message. He said to tell you that you needn't concern yourself any longer about your 'agreement' with him. He said that you should consider it null and void. He wouldn't explain what he was talking about, but he said you'd understand."
---
Dukat was nervous. The battle had not gone well -- and, the war was not yet over. Things at Cardassia Prime were more desperate than they had ever been. Resources were at an all-time low, and he was not thinking of merely fuelling the war-machine. Cardassia had never been self-sufficient, at least not in the last five-hundred years; children, if not dead, remained destitute. The truth was everywhere, in his war-ravaged land, to see -- how could he deny to himself the evidence of his own eyes? Cardassia was rotting -- a little bit, everyday. And the cold fear lodged deep in his heart told him that he was about to fail her again. Only, this time, there would be no recovery. No second chance. Cardassia was beyond help. Oh, the government provided enough propaganda to boost its image and that of the state: Empower the State; Empower the People. And Dukat -- now the supreme dispatcher of that lie -- understood the absolute necessity of it all too well. But that did not mean he could lie to himself in the deepest, darkest, hour of the night.
Empower the state -- that little voice so resembling his own mocked him, over and over again -- abandon the people. Had he, unwittingly, abandoned his people?
If self-doubt was a damning offense in Cardassian politics, then he knew he was damned already.
He had made the ultimate sacrifice: his beloved daughter -- his brave, beautiful Galien -- was dead, the fragile new life stirring within her lost forever in the ashes of the H'Gathha. Blinded with rage and driven almost mad with desperation, he had searched, millimeter by millimeter -- but had not found even a shred of her in the remaining debris of the ship. In the end he had given his wife the news, though he dreaded her reaction, dreaded her inevitable damnation of him and his accursed crusade, but he had shirked the duties of a father-in-law. Coward that he was...
Dukat drew in a faint, unsteady breath.
Cardassia had been infiltrated -- her last defenses straining at their tether. The Federation had struck, low and mean, at the very core of his dilemma -- as he knew only Sisko could -- and over half his ship's complement had been sacrificed to protect Prime's defenses, not to mention almost an entire fleet of Cardassian warships. The Dominion seemed helpless. White was at a premium. The Jem'Hadar barely needed the Federation's help to decimate themselves. Having been forced to leave Terok Nor at a crucial moment, Dukat had had to leave the job of disabling the minefield to Weyoun and Damar. Needless to say -- they had not succeeded, and the thought of having to face Weyoun's smug, simpering condescension was daunting, to say the least. Nonetheless, he was back; all that remained was to regroup, re-think, and renew the struggle. No, the war was by no means over. And, if Naprem's precious Prophets willed it so -- he was prepared to go down with the last of it. He would not give up. For him, this was the only way -- the Cardassian way. His land, his people, expected no less.
But this incipient, stubborn nervousness -- was it just because of the war? Dukat knew Damar had followed his orders and informed Kira of his decision -- that he wanted her off Terok Nor; and that he had also contacted Shakaar asking for Kira's replacement. He knew Kira had willingly left the station and was now on Bajor. He knew he had a new liaison officer waiting to greet him in Ops. He knew Shakaar would have, at least, given him someone competent. But he knew nothing of the real result; of the effect his hasty, arbitrary decisions had had on Kira Nerys.
That faint flutter in Dukat's nether regions grew to a rumble.
Why -- after all that had happened between them, after she had made it incessantly, publicly, humiliatingly clear that she could not care less for him -- did he still concern himself with her reactions? Why did he, foolishly and repeatedly, prostrate himself in the path of her irritating, maddening, self-righteous zeal? Why, in the Prophets' names, did he need her sanction so? He had a family -- and how that word mocked him in all its travesty -- back on Prime. Why, then, did he grovel so? What power, like thieves in the dark of night, had these women -- Naprem, Ziyal, and now, Kira Nerys -- wrested from him? Why did he, despite himself, long to see her --just one more time? Why her? And why had the Prophets -- her Prophets -- chosen him to be the lamb for this slaughter?
Kira Nerys -- all he had wanted was to never see her again.
And his behaviour in those last moments before he had left for Prime, with Damar looking on, had made sure of that fact. But, if only those few moments by the airlock hadn't felt as if they would be their last. If only he had realized then how her troubled, astonishingly forlorn face -- as she mutely left the two of them at the airlock -- would begin to haunt him so. Damar had had the grace to look away as he realized that his commander had failed to hear a single word he had uttered. Then he had patiently repeated himself. Yes, Dukat had known fully that it could well have been the last time he would look at Kira -- speak to her, tease her. But, despite that, all he had wanted to do was leave. And, leave soon.
All he had wanted to do was forget that smile she had shared with Odo, so open and trusting and tender -- a smile that could not be erased by a few harsh words or the passing of time. She had never -- would never smile at him like that. Yes, all he wanted, at that moment, on that transport back from Bajor, was to never, ever, see her again.
Much later -- after learning of Galien's death, after he had finally accepted grief, violence, and betrayal to be his lot in life, after all of that -- he could think only of that quietly shared smile. And, then he had contacted Damar; had asked him to contact Shakaar with the request for a new liaison officer for Terok Nor.
Never again would she barge into his office with meaningless docking assignment reports.
Never again would she pass careless, cruel judgement on his past and present actions.
Never again would she kiss him... touch his heart... in the silvery shadows of the Bajoran night.
But he couldn't stop the memory of that kiss, of that troubled and forlorn face, from haunting his dreams. Fool that he was.
Over the years, he had asked himself, repeatedly, obsessively -- why Kira Nerys? And now, after time spent away from her, from the intoxicating, irresistible nearness of her -- he knew, all too well, the whys and the wherefores.
In these few weeks away from the station, his life had been an amalgam of hope, despair, chaos... and emptiness. And, try as he might, he had not been able to disabuse himself of the notion that she... that the very existence of her... lay entwined amidst the most fragile, the most neglected, and yet, the most precious of his needs.
Was that why he kept coming, through all these years, back to this station... to Bajor... to her?? Why... after all that he had lost, all that he had endured, did he find himself drawn irrevocably back to this place? Like a scorned, hapless pilgrim grown stale at the door of his temple!
But the irony of all ironies lay in a single, inevitable realization.
That all these years of deriving immense pleasure and satisfaction in teasing, poking and prodding that irrepressible persona -- his inimitable Major -- had scant prepared him to be in the grip of such absolute dread, such crippling terror, at the unraveling of this most basic truth in their enigmatic, protracted duel: Kira Nerys had finally, indisputably, single- handedly won the war. And she didn't even know the extent of the damage she had wrought on the enemy.
"Sir, we are being hailed from the station!" The voice of Gyikett, his science officer, sliced through Dukat's reverie and, in sheer anticipation of seeing his first officer, of catching anew, a glimpse of the jeweled delicacy that was Terok Nor, he pushed up out of his command seat. Strange, how -- every time he saw this wonder of Cardassian artistry -- he felt humbled; and, despite himself, happy. After all -- it was, and had once been, his home. As the station segued to a view of Ops, his second-in- command's expressionless face seemed to be an answer in itself and Dukat felt his stomach tighten as his eyes narrowed onto Damar's. However, his apprehension dwindled somewhat as Damar suddenly slanted his trademark grin at his leader.
Dukat sighed inwardly.
Damar was getting entirely too imitative of himself, and that too with such avid insouciance. But, what would he have done without this man? Who could he trust more than this young, earnest, implicitly loyal soldier who had stayed with him through thick and thin -- ever since those pirate days spent on that Bird of Prey? Ahh... those pirate days... Damar had stayed steadfastly at his side in those grimmest, most hopeless hours. And, together, they had triumphed. Even if only for a time...
"Helm, we have control. You are cleared to dock on docking ring one," Damar's face reverted back to a controlled, anticipatory look as he focused his attention solely on Dukat. "Welcome back, sir!"
Dukat gave Damar a mocking, but grateful, look -- and gave the order for docking procedures to begin.
---
The Commander of Terok Nor realized he was staring through the entrance into Ops and caught himself. In spite of everything, he felt a rumble of laughter pooling deep in his stomach. Shakaar would do this to him. That man never gave up. No matter. He was sure that this liaison officer, stunning as she was in her looks, was every bit as competent as Shakaar promised. Her credentials were impeccable: in the service of the Bajoran Central Government for the last four years, she was fluent in Kardasi, Klinzhai, and Standard. And already, it seemed to him, she had won Weyoun over. Thank the Prophets for that -- because he seemed to be paying Dukat much less attention than before; good or bad, or both -- that, he did not know. Or care. Even Damar seemed to like her. Although Dukat had noticed that Damar didn't seem to ogle her quite so much as the other Cardassian officers and soldiers did. Good. He'd leave the LO in Damar's capable hands.
Hmm... or maybe the Cardassian Ops engineering team would be more interested in that particular job. It seemed Major Eynara had struck up a good rapport with them right from the start. Women seemed to stick together no matter what species they were! Hmph... Dukat frowned. She seemed a bit cowed by himself, though; it felt strange to have the Bajoran Liaison Officer of Terok Nor timidly saying "yes, sir!" to him. Well, maybe not timidly, but, at least, in a civil manner. Not like... not like...
He sighed noisily. These reports needed to be finished soon. The station was now on almost constant battle alert and he had not had a full night's sleep in the last fifty-two hours. Tonight he would have a quiet dinner in his quarters and finish the rest of the reports. And contact Ziyal.
Ziyal... yesterday they had talked, really talked -- as a father and daughter should -- about things... important to them both. A warmth seeped into the coldness in his bones. How he had needed that! Ziyal... so much... she reminded him of so much! In a strange way, Galien and Ziyal had been much alike in their looks and attitudes... the eldest and the youngest of his daughters... in fact, they had been very much like himself... almost as if they had both taken over directly where he'd left off. And, in that same, strange way -- they had both been particularly close to their father. When Ziyal was a child -- here -- on Terok Nor, Dukat had enjoyed a sweet, indulgent relationship with her; one traditionally shared, and prized, by most Cardassian fathers and daughters... and he knew he would give anything to have that back. And to think he had almost lost her -- first to the Breen, then to his own stupidity and hotheadedness, and then to that... that... Garak!
But he had lost Galien -- to this faceless, heartless war... and to know that he would never again feel those delicate arms around his neck, hear that high, sweet voice call to him, and that pealing laugh... to know that he was responsible for that fate... for the violent stifling of the life that had been within her...
The choking, clamoring darkness in his heart threatened inevitable, final justice...
No matter. No matter! She was gone forever. More than a pound of his flesh. More than a chunk of his soul.
But Ziyal was alive! And she loved him still; was coming back to him. Tomorrow, by this time, she would be here...
Ziyal... the one thing he had done right in his life... the only thing he gave a damn about anymore...
Wearily, he stretched in his chair...
Sisko's chair. Sisko's office. Sisko's baseball...
The Ops door slid open suddenly and he gasped. Angry, dark-brown Bajoran eyes under a thatch of silky, chestnut hair. Eyes that seemed to berate him in their familiar, age-old manner...
He blinked.
Damar stood, at attention, in front of his desk. "Sir, Major Eynara and the off-shift Ops crew are going to the Promenade to have dinner." Damar paused, expectantly, it seemed.
Dukat looked down at his own hands -- were they shaking a little?
"Damar, can you do one thing for me before you go?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Can you contact Ziyal for me and route it to my quarters at a half-hour delay? I'll be there in twenty minutes."
"Yes, sir! Right away." Dukat nodded, and as Damar left, took a deep breath and began to sift earnestly through the reports.
It was time to bring Ziyal back to Terok Nor, where she belonged -- and Shakaar had been surprisingly co-operative at Dukat's suggestion of an "exchange of prisoners". That man was nothing if not practical. He would go far. Well, if allowed to, that is.
Dukat shook his head. He would always remember the exact expression on Shakaar's face at his words.
Let Jake go free? How??
But to Dukat, a promise, even if half-a-one, was a promise; even if the one he had made it to had no recollection of it. Sisko may not have believed it at the time, and may not remember it now, but Dukat had once told Sisko that he could never harm Jake.
And, he had kept that promise.
His stomach growled menacingly. He was hungry, and in a minute he would leave and have that quiet dinner. In his quarters. Alone.
---
TBC