Reon should have gone to his Resistance leader and cleared Fala of suspicion. Or he should have shown her the evidence that he was a spy after all. But he was fifteen, inexperienced, and he was burning with anger, vengeance, and doubt within his heart. He didn't have his sister's resolute faith. Being betrayed by Fala, even if he thought he had been doing good for the Kira family, had been the last straw for him when it came to matters of the Prophets. He let his personal vendetta guide him off planet and to the space station of Terok Nor.

He used an alias to bribe his way into a freighter with supplies on its way to the station. He had never left Bajor before and he was terrified of space. The ship was outdated and dubious and operated mostly with computers and machines for that reason. He had no horizon to pray to, but he told himself that he was risking all for the sake of his sister. If Fala was right, and the same Cardassian that had stolen their mother and possibly murdered her was gunning for the daughter, he had to learn who it was.

The station didn't seem like anything special. The Cardassians weren't masterful artists like Bajorans. It looked like an oil rig floating in suspended animation with a simplistic design a child could have drawn. There were similar stations throughout their part of the quadrant. He heard rumors that they worked miners to death and the Prefect of the Occupation himself commanded all operations from this place, gazing down at the planet of Bajor and thinking of it as his personal prize and the station as his playground.

Many, if not all, of the highest ranking officers of the Occupation made obligatory visits to the station. It was the place that Kira Meru had been held captive for seven years. Reon was convinced he would find his answers here. The place was dark, hot, and dismal, just as the Cardassians liked it to be. Bright lights hurt their eyes, their physiology meant that they were cold-blooded, and the miserable conditions were evident everywhere.

Reon tried to remain hidden inside the cargo bay as long as he could get away with. All he hoped he needed was access to the computer system. If a Cardassian saw him, they'd certainly throw him into the mines and he would catch his death there. The aliens were everywhere. He waited for the miners to get off their long shifts and tried to blend in amongst crowds. Groups splintered off to either race straight to their blankets, to the bar, or to the chemist shop nearby.

Reon almost went for the bar, but he noticed a lot of Cardassians gambling and leering at the comfort women entertaining there for the night. The bartender was an ugly Ferengi. Reon was xenophobic by nature and knew the reputation of that particular species. The chemist shop was brightly lit, full of nothing but Bajorans and Vaatrik the chemist himself was providing medicine and ointments, not cheap booze. The young Bajoran was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

"Do you happen to have hair dye?" Reon asked.

Vaatrik was a handsome Bajoran man. He had dark hair and emerald eyes. He gave Reon a friendly smile and reached out to touch his roots. Reon slapped his hand away.

"You are a natural red head, huh? How unfortunate. Do you have a color preference?"

"Black."

Vaatrik nodded sagely, "That is the safest choice. Sometimes it doesn't hurt to emulate the Cardassian bastards."

"As much as I hate it, that is true. How much do you need for me to pay for the vile stuff and will it damage my scalp?"

"You really should shave your whiskers. My stuff won't harm your scalp if you apply it correctly, but if you want your beard to match your head, you risk the skin of your face and chin," Vaatrik advised. "I won't charge you for your first purchase if you do that as a favor to yourself and to me. The Cardassians don't like facial hair any more than they like flashy red hair on a man."

"How do you know it's my first purchase? Do you remember the face of every customer?"

"I don't have the photographic memory of a Cardassian, but without facial hair, you would look twelve years old. You're as green as spring grass. How old are you? Sixteen?" Vaatrik began to guess.

"Close."

"What is your name?"

"Atreyu Lai."

"Well, Atreyu, here is some black dye."

"Thank you. May I ask you some questions?"

Reon had decided he could trust the chemist. He seemed genuinely helpful and had added enough disparaging remarks toward the Cardassian masters. He had watched him slip ingredients to some customers. They all responded to him positively. Would the Ferengi have given him a free gift and information his first day?

"Ask me anything, young man."

"How long have you been on this station?"

"I would venture to guess about ten years, but that is an approximation."

"Ten? How have you managed so long without getting thrown into the mines?"

"I'm a chemist by trade so even the Cardassians are forced to put some stock in me. If their medical officer goes, I'm the next best thing."

"Have you ever known a comfort woman by the name of Kira?" Reon asked urgently.

To his utter disappointment, there was no hint of recognition in his eyes when Reon spoke that name. He repeated it with her first name and even threw out her maiden name. Perhaps his mother had been too ashamed to soil the Kira name. Maybe her 'mate' had forced her to take some insulting Cardassian name. Mate or Master was a much kinder word for what he was: A rapist. Just like comfort woman or mistress was a much better title than what his mother had become: A sex slave.

"I am sorry, young man, but I don't make a habit of learning the names of Cardassian lovers," Vaatrik said with a bit of an edge. "Don't let them catch you asking about a woman. They might get jealous and punish not only you but whatever woman they keep."

Reon cursed to himself and began to ask more Bajorans how long they had been on the station. If it had been long enough that there was a chance they had seen her, he asked if they knew Kira Meru. He got no feedback except for some terrified and stupefied looks.

Now he decided to risk hacking into the computer system. He had only a basic understanding of Cardassian technology and was relying on tools to do the lion share of the work. He had no choice though. He had arrived with no allies. The Resistance would have never approved of this mission or risked a techie.

He was deep under a computer terminal, fiddling with the wires, half paralyzed from curling himself into a small, enclosed space. He was sweating through his clothes, getting thirsty, hungry, and his head pounded. He felt like a vole hiding from the snakes. He had been at it for hours when his device flashed at him, signaling that he almost had access. He restrained himself from fist pumping with victory. It was incredibly short lived.

He was seized cruelly by many strong Cardassian hands. He cried out, but there was no one to help him. His hacking device was smashed and its parts quickly scooped up to be analyzed later. He struggled, but there were bonds set around his wrists, ankles, and wrapped around his throat, partially strangling him. He wondered how they had found him so fast.

"Don't hurt him any more than you already have," said a voice that sounded as though the speaker was always terribly amused by something. "He belongs to me."

"Yes, Prefect."

Reon's eyes filled with terror as the Prefect of Bajor stepped into the dim light. He was handsome. Even Reon could see that, and he thought all Cardassians were exceptionally ugly. His ridges and bones seemed sculpted perfectly to his face and body. Nearly all Cardassians had gray eyes to match their gray and scaly skin except for the smoother parts on their face and hands, but this one had piercing gray eyes that could twinkle and shine and burn with a deadly gleam on the turn of a dime. His hair color and texture was also typically Cardassian, but very sleek and fine. In his full Cardassian armor, he looked tall, broad, and intimidating. Reon realized he was looking at one of the most powerful men in the galaxy.

"Blindfold him. You know where to take him," the Prefect ordered.

"We obey, sir."

They obeyed like well trained dogs. Reon was led to an elevator and they seemed to be going down to the lower parts of the station. He tried not to exhibit fear. He fully expected to be tortured within the hour. He was surprised then, when he was sat in a comfortable chair, his blindfold was taken off, and the Prefect sat the opposite side of him at a fine table made of Cardassian black oak. He was drinking spring wine, a beverage preferred by Bajorans, and he was chomping into fruit. There were no torture instruments anywhere. He was in a luxurious apartment of some kind.

"Where am I?" Reon asked.

"In my quarters, son."

"Don't call me son!"

"Ah, but you practically are. Hungry?"

"No."

Reon's stomach growled noisily and the Prefect sneered. He skillfully used a knife to peel the skin from a delicate fruit in his hand and took a crunchy bite. Then he washed it down with his spring wine.

"Fala was right, you know," the Cardassian whispered. "You Kiras are terrible liars."

"Fala betrayed me?" Reon hissed. "I'll kill that monk!"

"Son, Fala was mine by proxy, but it was my Collaborator on the station that alerted me to your presence."

"Vaatrik the chemist?" Reon would have struck himself if he wasn't bound.

The Prefect's smile was like a terrifying grimace. Reon struggled with his bonds and cried out in frustration. The Cardassian watched him squirm and looked almost bored.

"Who are you? I know you're the Prefect but-"

"I prefer to be called Gul Dukat, son. Since you are here snooping about, I might as well save you time and give you the answers you so desperately want. You practically threw your life away trying to get answers you should have never sought in the first place. I am the one that took your mother for my own. I am the Cardassian that has been watching over you all your wretched life. I am not your biological father, but I am your 'spiritual' father, I suppose you could say."

Reon trembled with rage and hated. He thrashed about wildly. He wanted to throttle Dukat. He wanted to dissect him on his own proud black oak table imported from his terrible hellish planet. He wanted to send this reptilian demon back to hell. He wanted to wipe that smug smile off his face, rip his armor off, and break his every bone, undo every tendon, and shatter every ridge in his body.

"I have something to show you, son," Dukat rose from his seat and made his station window a large screen. "Your sister was captured recently. She was rescued by her cell, but she was interrogated."

"Oh please no!" Reon's anger evaporated instantly. "Don't show me that! I don't want to see it! I can't watch my sister get tormented! Don't make me do it!"

"You wanted to know everything, didn't you?" Dukat turned to him sharply. "Well, you're about to get it! Be careful what you wish for!"

"Why in the name of all things holy and sacred would you make me watch such a thing?" Reon wailed. "You sadistic spoon-headed snake!"

"Because I want you to be as proud of your sister as I was watching this footage. After you watch it, you'll know your sister better."

"No!"

"If you turn your face away or close your eyes more than a few times, I'll bring a torturer up here!" Dukat threatened. "I'll be counting! Don't make me hurt you, son. I promise you Nerys won't be hurt too much. I was controlling everything from afar, after all. I couldn't possibly hurt the children of the woman I loved without good reason, after all."

"My mother-"

"Is not the subject of the conversation for the moment! Watch!"

Reon squirmed with anguish and discomfort as the scene played out on the screen. He wished she was in her place. Watching it was killing him.