The Great Hall of the Detapa Council was a cacaphonous mess, despite only fifty of the hundreds of available seats were full. Sitting quietly, at one of the arced tables at the center of the room, were the five peace delegates from the Federation. In the center of the room, atop a raised platform, was Chief Councilman Ross Tegril. As had been the case several times already, he was banging his gavel in yet another attempt to restore order. Although relatively few knew his true reasons for remaining out of the Federation, there were enough other council members who opposed joining for other reasons that he could keep his knowledge to himself. That was what he was counting on... what his contact was counting on. Without Dogran, there were enough dissenting opinions to keep the Federation out.

Admiral Picard and Doctor McIntyre's arguements, however, had started turning the tide back to joining. Part of him wished he had never allowed them to come back down. Gerak had insisted, however. As Ross attempted to make out the animated discussion going on between the representatives of the Hejod and Culat districts, his communicator went off. Enjoying the brief privacy the noise was providing, he removed it from his pocket. It was HIM. The image made him shudder. How he wished they hadn't decided to seek refuge in his district on Cardassia IV. Whispering loudly, he begged, "What can you possibly want with me now?"

Beneath the hood, Ross could still see the glaring, purple eyes. "Now, of all times, would be the worst time to be flippant. The Federation ship just left orbit."

"I know," Ross pleaded, "Picard told me. Their other ships were in some kind of trouble."

"Trouble we created," the hooded contact added. "Our people will keep the Federation ships busy. Our goal isn't their destruction... yet. Our goal is an independent Cardassia. It would seem you're letting things get out of hand."

Ross could see where this was going. It was too soon... too soon. He just needed more time. "No, no... everyone is arguing. Just give it some time..."

"No more time!" the contact urged. "We must take advantage of the moment. Fortunately, we planned for this sitation."

No, they couldn't show themselves. Ross would be instantly marked as a traitor. They'd never listen to him. "Please, don't... there are so many people here. Someone will get hurt." He was desperately clinging onto anything that would buy him some time.

"People have already 'gotten hurt', Tegril," the voice said urgently. "Such is the inevitable cost of revolution. You might want to get behind your desk." The image faded from his communicator.

Tegril was about to take his contact's advice when he saw Admiral Picard approaching him. Oh, no, he thought. If Picard was injured or killed... how had he gotten himself into this? He should have announced their presence as soon as they made themselves known. Now... it was too late. Their promises of a strong, independent Cardassian Union were empty. This was all he had left. "Admiral, get down!" Ross yelled as the admiral approached. Tegril suddenly ducked under his desk.

Confused, Picard bent down as several sparks of silver and red appeared all over the large room. The glows briefly intensified, then began to fade. To the shock of many in the room, when the flashes faded, they were replaced by familiar images of Jem'Hadar soldiers. There were at least thirty of them, all brandishing some form of rifle. Panic overcame several of the people in the room as surprised members of the Cardassian guard began firing at their enemy. Green and purple streams of energy flew across the large expanse of the Great Hall. Although a Cardassian weapons had successfully found a target, the Jem'Hadar were deathly accurate with their weapons. In less than a minute, it was over.

Screaming filled the room as councilmembers, assistants, and the remaining guards took cover. Methodically, the Jem'Hadar began turning over tables and pushing occupants towards the center of the room. Picard stared incredulously at Tegril as he slowly stood up from behind his desk. Ross had a look of utter humiliation as he hung his head.

"Get up!" a Jem'Hadar soldier commanded of Admiral Picard. As he stood, he saw the rest of his peace delegation rounded up and brought forward. "Take off your communicators!" he ordered of the delegation. Silently, they complied. "Throw them on the floor!" Again, they complied. "Now, smash them." he ordered with an evil grin across his ashen colored face. As they stomped their feet, the communicators were smashed. With a look of calm resolution, Picard studied the soldiers around them, learning their numbers, watching as the ketracel-white flowed from tubes beside their necks.

His watchful eyes finally rested on a cloaked individual standing next to Ross Tegril. This was impossible, Picard thought. The Dominion had been driven back through the wormhole. A treaty had been signed... and agreement reached. This constitued a breach of that treaty. He knew if this got back to Starfleet, their reaction would be... rash.

As the screaming finally faded, the seventy-two people were brought roughly to the lower levels of the room. The cloaked individual began to speak. The melodic, charismatic nature of his voice gave his identity away immediately to the delegation. "Noble Cardassians," he began, his arms raised. "Today you are granted freedom from the yoke of the Federation. Make no mistake; once a part of their collage, you would lose your individual identities as the vulcans did. You would lose your spirit, as the klingons did. Today," as he continued, he removed the hood from his cloak. His face was pale and elongated. His earlobes extended from the crown of his head all the way to his jawline. His almost hypnotic eyes were purple. He was a vorta; the mouth of the Founders and negotiators of the Dominion. "today I am pleased to announce that the Dominion has accepted you back. I am Gelnon, your liason to the Dominion and I promise you... from this day forward..." he looked intensely at Jean Luc Picard as he continued, "we aren't going anywhere."