The Cardassian transport had stopped at a docking port on Empok Nor. Aboard the ship there were barked orders as crewmen filed in and various portions of machinery appeared about the cargo bay in neat formations.

"It would have been so much neater to strip the station down before it was evacuated." Remok sighed as he looked on.

"There was no need to disassemble it." Makar responded from next to him.

"Perhaps not at the time, but once it was clear we weren't returning to it, it seems only rational to have sent someone to collect it, instead of leaving it to the scavengers."

"I assume the military didn't think they would ever be this desperate for materials." Makar stated as he turned around and left the cargo bay. Remok followed suit.

"How long will this distraction take?"

"No more than an hour. Eager are we?"

"That ship's a disaster."

"Well, yes, but... Makar wait."

Remok grabbed him by the arm and forced him to a stop. Makar gave an impatient sigh and faced him.

"Let me speak to the council, I can convince them to—"

"No, Remok. It is humiliating enough to have been assigned this task at all, I will not run back to the council and beg for a different command."

Remok's jaw clenched. His voice became low.

"Your pride is blinding you."

Makar gave his fellow Gul a hard look.

"And your sentiment is blinding you. I will not disobey orders simply because I do not like them. That is not how we do things."

"My sentiment?" Remok hissed, his grip on Makar's arm tightening, "How many of our friends have been retired or transferred away from Cardassia prime? With every man we lose we are diminished in power, and that is no perception based on sentiment. Swallow your pride. You'll earn it back a hundredfold. Let me talk to the council on your behalf."

Makar seemed hesitant, but only for an instant. He wrenched away his arm.

"Tell your men to be done before the hours end. I have much to do aboard the Beyond, I will not tolerate further delays."

As he walked away Remok gave a quiet sigh in defeat.

The Cardassian crewmen worked with no idle chatter, gathering as much they could of the old station within that hour and returned to their posts after they completed their surveys and updated the ships manifesto. Remok and Makar returned to their place on the bridge and gave the order to continue on. Although they tried —many times— to hail the Beyond, much to their annoyance they received no response.

The journey to Deep Space Nine was a quiet one, and without incident.

Upon reaching the station, the ship hummed through docking procedures. In the transporter room, the Guls were offering each other a short farewell.

"I suppose there's nothing I can say to convince you not to go then."

"I've made up my mind, Remok."

Remok raised a brow at Makar.

"You are always so stubborn," Remok said rather sullenly. He looked to the officer standing by to operate the transporter, "Have you made contact with the Beyond's transporter staff?"

"Yes sir, though I've been told their schedule is rather hectic at the moment. They can only hold off for us for the next few minutes."

"Then I'll not keep them waiting." Makar responded.

"Yes sir."

The Guls regarded each other once more.

"Then… Good luck." Remok offered Makar a polite nod.

"I'll need more than luck." Makar responded with a grimace as the transporter locked onto him. Remok watched him energize. When he was completely gone, he looked to the officer. The officer nodded back, and the Gul left the transporter room.

The moment Makar arrive, he could see the utter so much as a welcome he was bade out of the transporter room by agitated crewmen and thrown into the rivers of officers rushing back and forth through the decks.

Squaring his shoulders and clenching his jaw Makar strode through the ship and into a turbolift, where he marked the bridge as his destination.
There were other crewmen in the turbolift, many of who peeked at him with alarm, and went quiet when he entered. He kept his eyes resolutely on the screen monitoring the ascent through the ship.

Once at the bridge, he looked around. No sign of a commanding officer. He headed to the Captain's ready room and pressed the intercom. No answer. He squinted and pressed it again. No answer.

Hesitant, he took a few steps into the room and looked around. Aside froma strange clutter of odd objects and archaic text, there appeared to be no one here. He pressed his hand to the bridge of his nose and sighed. He took a moment before striding back out of the room and back into the bridge.

He looked around at the steady hum of working engineers and, catching the eyes of one officer standing just atop a counter next to one of the interfaces before he hurriedly averted his eyes and stuck his head up a removed panel.

"Where is the Captain?" Makar demanded, marching to the crewman, his upper body hidden above a panel he had removed as he worked. There were sounds of clattering and scraping as the ensign loudly responded. Around them on the bridge officers worked with heavy focus— although occasionally their eyes were drawn to the cardassian standing among them.

"Uh… I'm busy at the moment, if you could just find someone else to—"

"Everyone is 'busy', everyone has 'things to do' but I will have someone take me to the captain or—"

"None of us know where the captain is… sir. He hasn't responded to hails since before noon."

"Are you telling me the captain has been missing for over six hours and no one has bothered to try find him?"

There was another clatter and the ensign stooped his head down to look Makar in the eyes.

"I think Commander Howell went to look for him," he offered non-committally.

"And where did Commander Howell say they were going?"

"She didn't. If you don't mind sir I've got an appointment with the med bay"
Before Makar had time to protest the ensign had whisked over to the turbolift. Squaring his shoulders, he marched to the center of the raised level and boomed;

"Whoever is doing non-essential work report to me. Now."

There was hesitance in the room. Makar met the eyes of the officers who had stopped their work to pay attention, but each quickly averted their eyes. His jaw clenched and his eyes flared. Just as he opened his mouth to launch into a tirade someone replaced a panel with deliberate loudness. A single officer, an aged bajoran woman wearing operations gold, came to the center of the bridge to face Makar. She dusted her hands and readjusted her uniform.

"Lieutenant Commander Ena Ajano, sir, chief of engineering. I'll assist you in finding the Captain."

Makar regarded her with a raised eyebrow. Of all the crewmen he had not expected for any Bajoran officers to respond to his command at all, but there she stood. He nodded at her.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Commander."