Текст книги "Dawn of the Eagles "

Автор книги: Stephani Danelle Perry

Соавторы: Gene Rodenberry,Britta Dennison
сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 20 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

There was a silence. Seeing the anger that was now replacing the other man’s sorrow, Esad thought he’d perhaps do best to leave. But before he stood, he added one more thing. “You may recall that Dost Abor was stationed at Valo VI for many years,” he said. “But that is no longer the case.”

“No?” Reyar said, looking expectantly to Esad for the rest.

Esad wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do at all—in fact, he suspected it was not. But something within him insisted that he do it, whether to shift the blame away from himself, or whether he still had too much of the vengeful agent in him, he did not know. “You see…I put in a recommendation for Abor…that he be moved from Valo VI, and my praise has finally come to fruition for him. He is stationed right here, on Cardassia Prime,” Esad said. “In fact, he lives in the Coranum sector.”

“Here?” Yannik whispered. “The man who murdered my daughter is a stone’s throw from my own home?”

“Yes,” Esad said, keeping his own voice low. “He has assumed a new identity for his current post, per the orders of the new Obsidian Order head.”

“A fool,” mumbled Reyar, and Esad silently agreed with him. Not everyone could be the genius Enabran Tain had been. Tain was not a good man, that was absolutely certain, but he was a brilliant man.

“Dost Abor now calls himself Ran Lotor,” Esad went on. “He is posing as an educator.”

“Ran Lotor,” Esad repeated. “I don’t know him.”

“Well,” Esad said, standing up, “he will not be difficult to find, especially not for a man with military resources at his disposal. Perhaps you would like to go and…introduce yourself?”

Reyar stood as well. “I think it is a fine idea,” he said.

Esad did not linger, not only because he wanted to leave the man in peace, but because he was still not entirely comfortable with what he had set in motion today. As an Oralian, he was committed to a certain set of beliefs, but as a Cardassian, sometimes his personal feelings overwhelmingly overrode them. Esad was no stranger to this conflict, for his entire profession put his faith in constant compromise. As the servant let him out, he had to be satisfied with remembering that he was a complicated man, as all men were, and that his own personal feelings regarding a matter might sometimes take precedence over what he knew was right—and that sometimes the things he knew to be right could directly contradict each other. Today, he had chosen to act as a Cardassian.

20

Odo was making his regular rounds on the Bajoran side of the Promenade when another man fell in step with him, somewhat more conspicuously than Odo might have liked. He told himself there was nothing suspicious about having a friendly chat with some random acquaintance, Bajoran or Cardassian—though he was sure Dukat would have preferred that he keep his friends in the latter category.

The man spoke under his breath, which Odo felt made their interaction all the more noticeable. “Kira tells me you have agreed to speak to me.”

“Yes,” Odo said shortly, trying to remember this man’s name. He thought it was Gran. “Let’s do this quickly. I have other matters to attend to this evening.”

“At the start of his shift tomorrow,” the man said, “The chief of engineering is going to be implicated in some black-market dealings with a Bajoran here on the Promenade.”

“Dalin Kedat?”

“Yes.” Gran was impatient, though he struggled to maintain detached politeness. He seemed far from comfortable with this arrangement. “You’ll arrest him and somehow make the charges stick. Kedat is one of three people on the station, including yourself, who have access to the surveillance feeds from the computer core, and we need him out of the way. After you arrest him, Terok Nor is going to start feeling very cold to the Cardassians.”

“You’re sabotaging the environmental control system,” Odo surmised.

“For starters,” Gran said. “It’s going to look like a malfunction. We laid the groundwork for that aspect of the plan yesterday.”

“How?”

“That doesn’t matter—”

“It matters to me,” Odo growled.

“Fine!” the Bajoran hissed. “We used the environmental control interface for the Ferengi’s holodecks—bribed him to look the other way for ten minutes. Satisfied?”

Odo scoffed at the revelation of Quark’s involvement in the scheme, but very likely the Ferengi didn’t even know what the Bajorans were up to; the better to profit while maintaining plausible deniability, as he had done with Kira. “Go on.”

“The cold won’t do any real damage, but it’ll keep most of the Cardassians uncomfortable and busy trying to fix the problem. No one will question it if you move security personnel away from the computer core in order to guard the work crews.”

“What about Dukat?” Odo asked. He was the third man with access to the core’s surveillance feeds.

“Once the temperature drops, you’ll need to figure out a way to get Dukat out of his office and keep him occupied long enough for my man to enter the core and take out the detection grid. Twenty minutes is all he’ll need.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Then it’s not going to work,” Odo said. “Dukat won’t allow me to keep Kedat in custody during a mechanical failure—not on black market charges.”

“We’ll kill Kedat, then.”

“No, you won’t,” Odo said sternly. There would be no more innocent blood on his hands. This resistance member might not understand that, but fortunately there was another reason simply assassinating Kedat wouldn’t help them: “You murder a senior officer, and Terok Nor immediately goes on heightened alert.”

“You have a better idea?”

“Actually I do, but it means you’ll need to delay the environmental malfunction.”

“How long?”

“Four hours following his arrest.”

Gran swallowed. Clearly the idea of waiting so long to implement the next phase of the plan made him nervous. “All right,” he said finally. “We’ll do it your way, Constable.” The man started to move away.

“Wait,” Odo said, sudden doubt overtaking him. “What if something goes wrong? Do you have a signal, some way to let me know if you intend to abort?”

Gran snorted. “Dozens of things could go wrong, Mr. Odo. We just have to take the risk, and hope that everything will fall into place. There are no fail-safes.”

“But—” Odo found himself very uncomfortable with this level of uncertainty. “If we are caught, several people will be executed, and you may not get another chance to disable the grid. Dukat will take pains to ensure that no more attempts can be carried out.”

The Bajoran shrugged. “True,” he said wryly. “But some things are worth taking risks for.”

Odo remembered someone else saying something quite similar once—it was Sito Jaxa, the little girl who had boldly wandered into the forest with the belief that she could deliver information to the resistance all on her own. She had taken a terrible risk, and almost paid dearly for it. Odo was not much of a risk-taker himself. He wondered if he should back out, even as he was agreeing to the reckless terms of the plan.

He left the Bajoran man alone on the Promenade and continued on his rounds, knowing now that if he failed to keep up his end of the agreement, several Bajorans would be guaranteed a death sentence, and it would essentially be his own fault. On the other hand, if he adhered to the rule of law, he should turn in the man and all who were involved. He didn’t especially want that on his conscience, though it wouldn’t be the first time he’d assisted in putting a stop to Bajoran conspiracies. He felt as though something very new and very frightening had transpired within himself these past few days—but he took some comfort in knowing that it wasn’t too late to change his mind. It wouldn’t be too late until fourteen hundred hours tomorrow.

Astraea knew that because of her position, Thrax Sa’kat had long ago decided not to make any “inappropriate” overtures to her, and while she supposed it was meant to be respectful, she still wished it were otherwise. He had returned to Cardassia Prime from his assignment on Cardassia III, raving about a perceived threat to the shrine—to the last remaining copies of the Recitations of Oralius, the book she had sought so many years ago, that Glinn Sa’kat’s family had kept safe for generations. And to the Orb, though she knew that he did not need to worry about that now.

“Glinn Sa’kat,” she interrupted him. “I have spoken to Kutel Esad, and he insists that we will be safe here. I don’t wish for you to concern yourself so.”

“But there is unrest fast approaching on our world,” Sa’kat insisted. “The situation with Bajor is unraveling, and it is only the beginning, Astraea. The Detapa Council is gaining power, which can only mean—”

“Changes,” Astraea interrupted. “Favorable changes—you said so yourself.”

“Yes,” he sighed. “But a shift in governmental power will also mean violence.”

“Oralius will keep us safe,” she insisted.

“Astraea,” he said, “I have been thinking of the Orb…”

“The Orb of Wisdom.”

“Yes.” He hesitated. “Perhaps Kutel was right when he said it was dangerous for us to have it. We don’t need any more reason to be targeted by the Order, or anyone else. I confess, since bringing it here, I’ve not felt at peace…”

Astraea was relieved to hear him say it. “Then you will be happy to know that I have already arranged for the Orb to be transferred elsewhere, Glinn Sa’kat.”

He looked up at her, his astonishment plain. “Transferred elsewhere? What do you mean?”

“You took it with you, Glinn Sa’kat.”

He was speechless, and Astraea finished quickly.

“Your business on Cardassia III,” she told him. “The Orb was with you when you traveled. I employed Kutel Esad to help me with this errand. We…had the Orb transferred to the cargo bay of your ship, and when it was unloaded—”

“Astraea!” Sa’kat cried. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“Because,” she told him promptly, “because that Orb did not belong with us. That Orb belongs to the Bajorans, and as long as we held it, Oralius did not look favorably upon us. Kutel told me he felt unsettled by the object, and I felt it too. The shrine was not a place of peace as long as it was here. I felt instant relief as soon as it was gone.”

“But…Astraea, there is no telling what will happen to it now, the cargo of my ship was unloaded at several military ports on Cardassia III…”

“The Orb will go where it is needed,” Astraea told him, stubborn in her certainty, “and, in time, so too will the six that are still in the Order’s possession. I have seen it.”

“But…” He stopped. Thrax Sakat had never argued with the veracity of her visions, but he appeared exasperated.

“I had to do it,” she said softly. “It was what Oralius wanted, please believe me.” She couldn’t explain it beyond that. She could never adequately put words to the overwhelming urges and insights she sometimes experienced. Usually, Glinn Sa’kat seemed to accept her actions and recommendations without question; this time seemed different.

“I thought…I was doing the right thing…”

“You didn’t do the wrong thing, Glinn Sa’kat. It doesn’t matter now. Please, let’s speak no more of it.”

He nodded without looking up, then he stood. “I had better go,” he said.

She rose to her feet also, taking a step toward him. “Glinn Sa’kat, are you angry with me?”

He said nothing for a moment, and then he changed the subject.

“Astraea, I wish you would consent to go into hiding, at least until we have a better idea of what will be the outcome of the governmental upheaval.”

“No,” she told him. “I cannot leave the followers, not again.”

“The followers cannot afford to lose you.”

“The Way will never fade into obscurity, Glinn Sa’kat. I know this—with more than just a feeling. It is a truth. I do not wish to leave this place.” She said it more firmly than she had intended. “Besides,” she added, lightening her tone, “you will keep me safe.” She meant the last part to be affectionate, but he looked grave.

“Sometimes I miss the days that I was on Terok Nor,” he told her.

She felt a stab of unhappy regret, wondering if he was truly angry with her, before he went on. “From there, I had access to information from all over the Cardassian Union and beyond—systems from the Setlik to Valeria. Here, I feel much less capable of protecting you.”

She looked up, her voice trembling despite her efforts to control it. “Would you really rather be on Terok Nor, Glinn Sa’kat, than here, with…” She trailed off, and there was a moment of silence between them.

He gazed at her for a long moment, unblinking, before he stepped toward her. His hands came up from his sides, and he took her face in his hands. She scarcely dared to move, but after a single moment, the longest moment of her life, she felt her body go slack, seeming to melt against him, feeling the ache of long-unexpressed desire finally begin to ebb. He brushed his lips against hers, and she kissed him back willingly.

He broke away far too soon, but he did not take his hands away from her face. “I do wish you would listen to me more often,” he murmured.

“I will do whatever you recommend,” she told him, “but only if it means you will be with me.”

He did not reply, only embraced her once again, holding on as if he never meant to let go.

Odo answered his comm with trepidation, for the moment had come. “Odo!”Dukat was roaring. “Environmental control gone down, very likely due to yet another act of sabotage. You must double up your security at once.”

“Of course,” Odo replied. “Anything else?”

“Find Dalin Kedat and have him report to ops at once!”

Odo feigned surprise. “But Gul Dukat…Dalin Kedat is gone. I put him on the penal ship following his arrest, and I believe it has already left the station.”

Dukat looked quite flabbergasted. “And exactly what are we to do without a chief of engineering? You know those fools on his staff will squabble among themselves for an hour before even getting started!”

“Dalin Trakad has already put in for a replacement, sir, but he tells me it is standard procedure for there to be an interim period of at least three days before—”

“Three days!”

“That’s what I was told. You can speak to Dalin Trakad further on the matter. I consulted fully with him, and we were simply following…”

“Procedure, of course you were. It didn’t occur to you that we might be forced to bend the rules in the case of our chief of engineering. We can scarcely function without Kedat!”

“I…wasn’t aware of that, sir. I only knew that procedure clearly states—”

“Just…be sure to double up security as I asked. Immediately!”He signed off abruptly.

Odo stood, for there was a second part to his role in this mission. He left his office without bothering to answer Dukat’s call for more security, and headed to Quark’s.

“Odo!” Quark exclaimed as the shape-shifter entered his establishment. “To what do I owe…?”

“Save it, Quark. I need to speak with you in private.”

Quark gestured to his customer, a long-faced dal. “All right. Just let me just take care of—”

“We can do it at security, if you’d prefer,” Odo said sharply.

“No, no, there’s no need for us to leave the premises. Come into my office.” The Ferengi gestured to a room behind the bar, and Odo followed him, pretending not to notice as Quark hurriedly tried to hide a small crate under the counter. Odo had no time to address it now.

“Quark,” Odo said, once they were out of reasonable earshot of anyone at the bar. “I need you to do something for me.”

The Ferengi looked reluctant, but Odo went on.

“In about twenty minutes, I’m going to be bringing Dukat in here, as a way of apologizing for sending his chief of engineering on that penal ship. But I can’t stay in here to watch him. It would make him very suspicious—he knows I don’t eat or drink, and since I’ve spent so little time in here, he will certainly wonder why I’m suddenly so eager to be one of your patrons.”

Quark gaped. “You need me to baby-sit the prefect?” he said.

“That’s right,” Odo said evenly.

Quark considered for a moment before his expression changed, a shifting wiliness flickering in his eyes. “It sounds…important,” he observed. “Like…it might be worth something to you.”

Odo narrowed his eyes. “What do you have in mind?”

Quark grinned, unable to conceal his delight over this newfound leverage. “Well. For starters, maybe you could re-consider the fines you were imposing on my friend from Beraina—it’s made him pretty reluctant to do business with me. And speaking of fines, I’m thinking it’s possible that I may have…a few…unpaid debts with your office…if you’d care to check your records. Maybe we could enter into some kind of negotiation…”

“Negotiation?”

“Sure,” Quark said. “Isn’t that what we’re talking about? Like…say…forget about them altogether.”

Odo leaned toward him menacingly. “Or, perhaps you could just do as I ask, and I’ll pretend I don’t know anything about that box of illegal Terran cognacyou just stowed underneath the bar…not to mention the proscribed holosuite programs that are hidden in the false panel underneath the right corner of the—”

“Fine!” Quark interrupted quickly, “I’ll do it!”

“Of course you will,” Odo replied. He gave the Ferengi explicit instructions before hastily leaving the bar. It was time to buy Gul Dukat a drink.

Kira had been putting out the call to the Jo’kala cell for over an hour now, with no reply. This was not the first time she had attempted to alert other cells of the possibility of a grid failure, but it was the first time anything had been attempted on such a grand scale. She’d received confirmation from Terok Nor that the plan had been set into motion, the results likely to fall in their favor, and had spent much of the last ten hours contacting everyone who would answer their comms—resistance, civilians, family and friends and neighbors of the men and women who lived in the warren. While she had met with a few skeptical voices, most of the people she’d contacted understood the necessity of action tonight, and had agreed to spread the word.

“This is a wideband alert from six-one-six, I repeat, the grid is coming down. Terok Nor wil be blind for at least one hour without sensors, starting in approximately eight minutes…”

“Six minutes,” Lupaza corrected from behind her. “Nerys, get off the comm—it’s time to go!”

“But I wasn’t able to get through to anyone in Jo’kala…”

“Someone will have told them,” Mobara said. “Get your phaser, and come on—the others are already in the tunnels.”

“Someone should stay behind to monitor the comm.”

“I’m staying,” Gantt reminded her. He’d twisted his ankle a week before, and wouldn’t travel well. “Just go! Make the best of it, and keep me informed.”

Kira grabbed her phaser and her shoulder pack, following the others as they scurried quickly through the tight tunnels. She could feel a detectable shift, a change in the smell and quality of the air when they neared the entrance. And as always, her adrenaline jumped, knowing she was to be in the uncertain world beyond the warren. Today, she could scarcely hold still.

The Shakaar cell was to approach the munitions facility in groups of three and four, everyone carrying a satchel filled with Mobara’s specially designed explosive devices. This factory, just a few kellipates from the city of Dahkur, manufactured some of the components used in the phaser banks mounted to Cardassian ground vehicles. The first group to arrive would take care of any Cardassians who were guarding the facility, but the Shakaar members were counting on the building being mostly unguarded. At this time of year, few Cardassian troops would be stationed in Dahkur Province.

Shakaar checked his chrono, finally giving a sharp nod. They moved fast and silently through the shaded woods, the group excitement a palpable thing. Kira had been sure that the shape-shifter would help them again; she believed him to be a creature of integrity, and while he obviously wanted to keep himself removed from the occupation, he had no choice but to choose a side.

The ugly building came into focus, and as Shakaar and his team separated from the group, Kira prayed that their assumptions had been correct. The factory had been erected in the early days of the occupation, a dome-shaped thing, low to the ground and surrounded by razor wire with an electric current running through it. This type of fence was only slightly more difficult to deal with than an electrified force field—once the current was disabled with a shot to the control box near the back of the structure, the razor wire could easily be burned away with a phaser on a high setting. Shakaar and the others would take care of it just as soon as they ensured that any guards had been dealt with.

This close, they could hear the sounds of the machinery from inside, clanking and pounding over the hum of the fence. The facility operated around the clock, with busy Bajorans inside working to manufacture weapons that would be used against their own people. This was not a work camp, but a voluntary facility, staffed with Bajorans who had elected to collaborate with the occupiers of their world. Kira felt no remorse for their fate—she had nothing for them but contempt.

Come on, come on….A beat later, she heard phaser shots over uniform humming, followed by a string of small explosions in short succession. It was her turn to go, and she ran with Lupaza and Mobara to their target.

She was passed by Tahna Los and the Kohn brothers, sprinting in the opposite direction. “Only two guards!” Tahna shouted to her, holding up two fingers as he went by. Several more explosions rocked the facility, and Kira and her companions headed toward the front as Shakaar, Furel, and Latha cut in front of them, racing ahead. Kira could hear people screaming, and she willed herself not to hear.

Kira saw an opening in the wall, a jagged hole of crumbling brick, still spilling dust. She slapped the connection panel and then heaved her entire pack inside, barely slowing. A ragged internal count of three and she sheltered her head as shrapnel and pieces of the ugly structure blew out, raining chunks of debris over them. She saw Mobara hurl his pack, and heard more explosions, from everywhere around the facility. There were no more screams coming from inside, and Kira felt sure that no one had survived.

Her package delivered, Kira was off and running back toward the caves, pushing herself until the burn in her calves subsided into a steady ache that was easier to ignore. She cherished the sensation of freedom, spelled out for her in the throbbing of her muscles, in lightheadedness and a racing heart.

“If that’s all the Cardassians have for us, this will be easier than we thought,” Kira called out, slowing down as she approached the men.

“I wouldn’t get too cocky if I were you,” Shakaar warned her. “We don’t have any way of knowing how much longer the grid will be down—or how long until Dukat sends additional troops to the surface.”

Kira was undeterred. “This is only the beginning, Edon.”

She broke into a run again, eager to hear Gantt’s reports from other cells around the planet. She was elated with the plan’s success, thrilled to have played a part in such a coup against the Cardassians—

—and the workers, she thought, but quickly put the thought aside, as she put the memory of their screams away, in a secret place in her mind that was not likely to be revisited, except perhaps in her dreams. She increased her speed, working her muscles and joints as hard as she could, and found herself back at the mouth of the cave in almost no time at all.

Dukat shivered as he took his final sip of hot fish juice, juice that could scarcely be called hot anymore. He clutched at the cup, trying to draw the last of its heat into his hands; he felt as though his fingers were coated in ice. The failure of the environmental controls had his entire staff operating in a kind of frozen lethargy.

“Will you be having a refill, Gul Dukat?” Quark’s grinning face slid in front of his own. Perhaps he’d finally tired of chattering with the Lurian freighter captain who had made such a fixture of himself at the other end of the bar.

“No,” Dukat muttered to the Ferengi. “Not at what you charge. I’d have been better off going to the Replimat. At least their juice is hot.”

“So hot it will sear the flesh off the inside of your mouth!” Quark said indignantly. “You can’t eat food from a machine—it’s unnatural. The food and beverages I serve here are made with care. I personally ensure that the ingredients are only of the finest—”

“Save it,” Dukat said, and stood to go.

“Wait!” the Ferengi cried. “I’ll…offer you another glass…on the house!”

Dukat waited for the inevitable second half of the offer, but Quark only continued to smile helplessly.

“ Whywould you do that?”

“Well…because you’re Gul Dukat! It’s good for business to have the prefect seen in here…of course!” Quark said.

Dukat supposed it made sense, but the Ferengi was obviously up to something. He sighed and gestured his acceptance. “Fine, I’ll have another drink. But I do plan to mention to Odo that you’re acting suspiciously.”

“Gul!” Quark said, pretending to be hurt. “Is generosity really so out of character for me that you would—”

“Yes,” Dukat interrupted, and changed the subject. “How can you tolerate this cold?” he asked the gruesome little man as he heated another drink. “Is it as miserable as this on your homeworld?”

Quark spread his unnervingly toothy smile as wide as it would go. “It’s miserabler,” he said, and laughed at his own joke. “I rather like the new temperature setting, really. But then, it’s not my station.”

“No, it is not,” Dukat said, and accepted the hot glass. He had to admit, the juice here wasmore palatable than what could be gotten from the replicators, but he could hardly enjoy it with the persistent chill in the air.

“Remember to savor that, now,” Quark advised.

“If it weren’t for Odo,” Dukat complained, “I wouldn’t be sitting here freezing half to death, talking to you.”

“Well, then, I suppose I have Odo to thank for the pleasant conversation,” Quark said.

Dukat ignored him and continued to air his grievances. “Our constable put the chief of engineering on the first penal ship back to Cardassia Prime, before we’d called in for a replacement.”

“Odo is nothing if not overly efficient,” Quark said. “I’d say he’s pretty rigid, for a shape-shifter.”

“And then the environmental controls would have to go down, on the one day I’m short an engineering chief! I’ve just been informed that I’m not to get another one for at least forty-two hours, which means the problem’s got to be attended to by an engineering team without its leader. If you had any idea what fools Kedat surrounded himself with…”

“You know, we have a saying on Ferenginar. ‘When it rains, it rains extremely hard, reducing the entirety of your surroundings to muck.’”

Dukat made a face. “Did I ask to hear your homespun folk wisdom?” he said sourly. “At any rate,” he went on, “I reprimanded him for sending away the chief of engineering without my approval, but it isn’t as though he could possibly appreciate what the loss of environmental control means for the rest of us.”

“Odo isn’t known for his empathy,” Quark agreed.

Dukat was tired of listening to the Ferengi’s acquiescence, and deliberately set his gaze elsewhere until Quark moved on to ingratiate himself to someone else. It seemed to take an excruciatingly long time before the Ferengi finally lost interest in furthering the conversation. Dukat briefly remembered a time when he’d had people on the station he’d thought he could trust. There had been Damar—the young, but wise-beyond-his-years garresh—and there had been Kira Meru. Beautiful Meru, so sensible—for a Bajoran, that was—but both had betrayed him. And then Basso Tromac. The Bajoran had been such a loyal servant before he’d disappeared, never returning from his errand to collect Kira Nerys. Dukat was left to wonder if Basso hadn’t betrayed him as well.

He looked up to see Quark making his usual small talk with a group of security officers in the corner, the insincerity all but dripping from his words. It was certainly indicative of Dukat’s isolation that he would be forced to seek companionship from the shape-shifter—or worse, from the Ferengi. He could trust no one, he recognized now.

He hurried back to his office, warming himself slightly by the brisk walk, feeling strangely melancholy. Why was it so hard to find people he could depend upon? How could he be expected to function when there was no one to whom he could speak?

He found a message from Legate Kell waiting for him in his cold office. He reviewed it without enthusiasm, an ambiguous request for an immediate callback, and Dukat reluctantly put in a return call. Perhaps it was related to his new engineering chief…

“Dukat,” the legate said shortly. “I’ve given it much thought, and I believe my plan to reorganize the Bajoran government is best for all concerned.”

Dukat gritted his teeth. Why did Kell continue to concern himself with details of the annexation? Dukat felt smothered.

“We need to discuss the particulars of the transition, as I would like to see the alteration occur as soon as possible,”Kell went on. “But first, I feel it would be best to appoint a committee among some of your more trusted advisers, in order—”

A red light flashed on the console to Dukat’s right, accompanied by an audible alarm. Kell broke off speaking, his expression parodying surprise. “What is that?”

Dukat was already reacting, having swiveled to regard the console at his right-hand side. There had been a failure of the program managing the sensor towers on the surface, guiding the sweeps and returning the data to Terok Nor.

“I must go, Legate,” he said, ending the transmission without another word. He immediately alerted engineering, then called for his communications officer to start contacting surface bases for reports.

He spent a moment trying to call up more information on the nature of the failure, but the computer was giving him nothing. Frustrated, he stepped out into Ops, looking over his shivering skeleton crew as they went to task, working diagnostics and gathering information. The initial reports were bad—there was nothing coming up from the grid, no data being recorded at all, on any continent. Dukat sent them to double-check, his best hope right now was that the Bajorans on the surface would not learn of the failure.