Drask was rarely caught by surprise, but this… this was something else. This was unnatural.
It was in his brief moment of confusion that heard a very familiar sound—a small, repetitive beep that foretold an incoming hail. He answered.
The screens flickered to life, revealing the image of an alien he didn't recognise. "This is Damar of Terok Nor," it said. "You are trespassing on Cardassian territory. If you tell me who are, where you came from and why you're here, I might decide to not blow your ship to oblivion."
Drask laughed, his confusion turning to courage as strange lands became familiar with threats he'd heard before. "You're in no position to demand things, Damar. I could easily destroy all your ships before you even fire your primitive weapons. I'll be the one asking questions. What are you? What is this place? And what's that hideous thing on your forehead?"
Animalistic growls erupted from the speakers on Drask's ships, complimenting the look of utter fury on Damar's face. "Very diplomatic, you lizard. I—"
"Damar, Damar, Damar. What are you doing? That's no way to talk to a guest."
"I'm sorry, I—"
"You've been working far too hard. Have a break. I've heard Risa is lovely this time of year. Well, really it's lovely all year."
"I—"
"Go!"
The alien called Damar walked off screen, replaced by another one of his kind with a friendly smile on its face.
"I am so, terribly sorry about Damar. He's usually much more hospitable." The alien—the Cardassian—smiled again, extending a hand Drask could not hope to reach through the screen.
"I'm Gul Dukat, Prefect of Bajor. And you are…?"