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Mystery on the Habitat Ring

By Cardie-ologist

Deep Space Nine's docking ring had gridlocked into a near supernova of arriving space travellers. The station had been selected to host the fifteenth annual summit meeting between the Commonwealth of Dominion Worlds jokingly called the Dominwealth in most Federation circles and the Alpha Quadrant Alliance. The delegates themselves weren't arriving till tomorrow, but their advance parties, security detachments from a hundred planets, and the intergalactic media had been pouring into the station for at least a week. And here were General Kira Nerys, Federation commandant of the station, and her husband, Station Security Chief Odo, waiting at docking port 17 for the arrival of house guests.

The transport from Cardassia was already ninety minutes late discharging its passengers, due to the lack of an available docking bay. Kira and Odo's twelve year old twins, Lupaza and Pol, kept running down the ramp to greet new arrivals, only to return disheartened that "it's just another runabout from Risa" (many of the arriving media had decided to combine business with pleasure.) Currently the children were once again standing vigil at the airlock, giving Kira an opportunity to air her misgivings (not for the first time.)

"Odo, we never should have agreed to this. The station's in chaos. We won't be able to supervise Terel and Julian properly. I know we promised to keep them when Ziyal had the baby, but that was supposed to be two weeks from now, not in the middle of the intergalactic summit! Surely she and Garak could have managed Prelenda along with all three boys for a few weeks more."

"Nerys, we can't very well throw the boys onto the next transport out," Odo said with some impatience. "We've been all over this. Terel and Julian aren't babies any more. How much do we supervise Lupaza and Pol on the station? The four of them have always entertained each other perfectly well. And when the summit is over we'll spend a month relaxing in Dakhur, just as we originally planned."

"I know." She squeezed his hand. "It's just that I've always had trouble concentrating on the children when work gets this hectic. And it's not like you can anticipate any spare time."

"It will be fine," Odo purred. "We can always send them to Quark's and let them distract him from whatever nefarious schemes he's bound to be cooking up to take advantage of all the visitors."

A clatter of running footsteps on the ramp brought an end to the conversation. Lupaza, her four long, red braids flying, shouted, "They're here, they're here." Somewhat more decorously, at a two meter distance, Pol walked into the waiting area, engaged in animated conversation with their visitors from Cardassia. With hair as red as his sister's, and cut to about the length of his mother's, he appeared the perfect twin of both, save for the bright blue of his big, wide set eyes, that were otherwise a precise duplicate of their brown ones. A half step behind him, Terel Dukat and Julian Garak walked side by side. Everything in Terel's bearing and looks said "soldier of the Cardassian Empire." He was to enter the Central Command Preparatory Academy, his grandfather's and (more briefly) father's old school, next term, and he was clearly getting himself into the proper state of psychological readiness. Julian, on the other hand, had combed his brown blond hair down over his forehead, and was wearing a scarf that concealed his vestigial Cardassian neck bones, had in fact done everything to assure that only direct scrutiny would reveal him not to be wholly Bajoran. Both boys were carrying several wrapped packages in addition to their luggage pouches.

Kira saw to it that the twins relieved them of their bundles and gave each boy an enthusiastic hug. Terel, she noticed, pulled away slightly. She sighed. He was at "that age." She'd already been through this with Notar, and Pol would surely be next. Julian, however, returned her embrace warmly. "Gosh, was that shuttle crowded," he exclaimed. "The whole Galactic Gang from CNN must have been on it. And look at all the people here!"

"Yes, the summit is making things a little busier than usual on the station," she said, with wry understatement not lost on Odo. "Come, we can relax and talk in our quarters."

Sitting in the main room of Odo and Kira's four bedroom suite, Terel passed around the presents while his brother previewed the contents. "That's your family portrait," Julian announced, as Kira opened a slim rectangular box. "It's Mummy's rendition from that holo print Papa took when you all visited Cardassia last."

"Quite a good likeness of each of us," Odo observed, "Although I don't recall that we were standing in a star field."

"Odo," Kira chided. "Ziyal's an artist; this is her concept of our family, not a literal copy." Not really annoyed, she said it for the boys' benefit. They might not be so attuned to her husband's irony.

"These two are for you to send to Haran and Notar, so don't open them," Julian went on.

"Actually, Notar's still here," Pol chimed in. "He delayed going back to Earth so he could see you. He's in the holosuites with Yoshi, but they'll be back for dinner."

"Great!" replied both the visitors in unison. Everybody laughed.

"And Papa's made you this suit, Pol, and--"

Terel cut in on his brother. "And, Lupaza, he's made you this dress. It's red. He says that's your color," the boy added shyly.

Lupaza had the package open in a flash and was soon dancing around the room holding it up to her. "Oh, isn't it lovely! Thanks to your dad, Terel."

"Speaking of colors," Odo said, "Those are certainly bright jackets you two are wearing. And they're cut to the specifications of the new Starfleet uniforms, if I'm not mistaken." Terel's jacket was bright red, with a narrow charcoal stripe at each sleeve. Julian's was of the same design, but was bright blue.

"Papa said it might be nice if we 'blended in' on the Station," Julian volunteered. "He had to make one for Enabran, too, even though he wasn't coming, or we'd have had another of his tantrums."

"Enabran's jacket, is, I presume, gold?" Odo asked.

"Of course," Julian replied, with a perfect Elim Garak smirk. "Papa just reversed the color proportions. He says all that charcoal is much too dreary - that Starfleet looks like it's been assimilated by the fashion Borg."

Terel, who had not been privy to his father's evaluation of the new uniforms, exploded with a most undignified snort. Taking his mortification out on his brother, he said rather sulkily, "Really, Ridgie, not everyone is as fond of Papa's sayings as you are."

Kira's Bajoran pride instinctively reacted to the nickname, even though she'd had to grit her teeth the dozens of times she'd heard it before. Odo put a warning hand on her arm. "Well, JULIAN, Terel," she said at last, "I'm afraid Odo and I have to get back to work, but I'm sure the four of you children can entertain yourselves while we're gone. And be back here at 1900 sharp; we've got a real Bajoran feast planned."

***

Upon Lupaza's suggestion they went to the bedroom Pol used to share Notar, and pulled out the Tongo game. They played in teams of two, first the twins against Terel and Julian, then Lupaza and Terel against Pol and Julian. Lupaza's team won both rounds, leaving Julian frustrated and cranky. Sensing his brother's mood, Terel suggested that they play something else.

"We could set up the Dabo wheel," suggested Pol. It had long been "his" game.

"Your parents let you gamble?" asked Julian, impressed. There were Dabo games in the Quark's franchises on the Nors, and even Grandpapa never let the boys near one.

"Oh, we have to use these fake latinum strips," Pol admitted, shaking a veritable fortune of imitation currency out of a worn beryllium box. "But you can still count them at the end and see who's won."

They had just gotten the game going when Notar came in with Yoshi. They were both still wearing life vests from the kayaking program they'd been using in the holosuites. Notar at nearly sixteen was taller than Odo and big boned, fortunate because he needed as much of a superstructure as possible to support the excess weight that had resulted from his still insatiable appetite for sweets. Kirayoshi O'Brien, although three years older, was four centimeters shorter, a reserved young man with wavy black hair and almond eyes. To make room for the visitors, he and Notar were staying this one night in the guest quarters on another level of the habitat ring.

"Hey there, fellow Bajassians," Notar said to Terel and Julian jovially, giving each a friendly punch on the upper arm.

"You know mother doesn't like you to use that word," Pol cautioned.

"I made it up to refer to myself I can use it anytime I want," Notar retorted.

"So," Lupaza interposed, coming to her twin's aid, "Did you sink the boat this time,*big* brother?"

"He maneuvered it perfectly," his companion added quickly, trying to defuse the familiar sibling wrangling. Turning to Terel and Julian, he said, "Hi, I'm Kirayoshi O'Brien, I don't think we've ever met."

"I'm Terel Dukat, and this is my brother Julian Garak."

"You're brothers and you have different names? I thought you were both the sons of Garak and Ziyal."

"It's a long story," said Julian, rolling his eyes.

"Yoshi lived in mother's womb before he was born. Dr. Bashir put him in there. I think that was the first time he did something like that," Lupaza noted, helpfully changing the subject.

"But not the last," Pol continued. "All four of us are Bashir implants, too."

"You guys should start a club," Notar chuckled. "Yoshi here's at the Academy. He's going to give me a ride back to Earth so I can finish up my apprenticeship. The poor guy is actually in two classes with Haran."

"She's not so bad, just very . . . sure . . . of what she wants," Yoshi said quietly.

"Notar's always down on Haran; it's not fair," Lupaza pouted.

"She treated you twins like you were her little baby dolls. It's me she was forever beating up until I got bigger than she was."

"Some full of himself upperclassman called her an 'uppity '-brid' last term, and she knocked him clear across the room. He must have slid three meters," Yoshi said admiringly, "and he had six centimeters and twenty kilos on her."

"She's going to get pretty bored in tactical if the peace keeps holding," Notar observed. "By the way, she's off on field exercises or she would have come home to see you squirts; she always did say we hybrids should stick together."

"We all are hybrids here aren't we?" said Yoshi.

Julian regarded him skeptically. "You don't look anything but Terran to me."

"I am all Terran. But Dad's Irish and Mom's Japanese."

"What's that mean?" asked Julian, puzzled.

"Those are two different countries on Earth. The people have different shaped features and different hued skins and speak different languages," Notar explained.

"That doesn't count!" Julian returned.

"It used to," Yoshi commented. "In my interstellar history class, the professor said that before Terrans knew about species on other planets, people whose parents were from different ' races' got just the kind of grief that hybrids get now. And that was true on many planets."

"People didn't know there were beings on other planets? When?" Julian was incredulous.

"Oh, come on Ridgie, you know that," Terel interrupted. "Papa's told you a million times that his Terran antique collection is all pre first contact."

"But Elmo's definitely Antarean. How could the Terrans make him if they didn't know about other species?"

"Who's Elmo?" Lupaza asked.

"It's this doll from twentieth century Earth who has shaggy red fur, a big round yellow nose, and eyes on top of his head," Terel replied.

"Sounds like an Antarean to me," Yoshi agreed. "There are two of them in my dorm. But it must just be a coincidence. There's no way anyone on Earth could have known about Antareans at that point in history."

"See, I told you Sess-AH-mi, couldn't be an Antarean province," Terel gloated to his brother.

"Let's skip the history lessons and play some Dabo," Notar said. "Otherwise it'll be time for dinner before anyone hits. You going to be our little Dabo girl, Paza?"

"Not on your life. I'm going to be your big winner," she countered.

"Paza?" asked Terel, confused.

"Oh, my sister has gotten 'frustrated' with having only one name, so she's been telling everyone who doesn't know better that her name is Lu Paza," Pol teased.

"You'd be doing it, too, if your name wasn't a monosyllable," his twin teased back.

"I think I'll tell Odo on you, Paza," Terel threatened light heartedly.

She gave him a little shove, "You do, and you can call me Lu, Dukat."

***

After the ratamba stew, hasparat souffle, moba fruit marinated in kava juice and topped with alvas and a dessert of tuwaly pie, everyone at the table was lulled into a state of satiated bliss. Except for Odo, of course. As always, his part in family meals was to serve, clear, and re sanitize the serving pieces. "Why should the eaters work, when there's a non eater present?" he always said to counter any of Nerys' guilty objections. He'd returned now from the kitchen, however, and the after dinner conversation, always suspended in his absence, could resume.

"This was a splendid meal, General Kira. You've gone to a lot of trouble for us," said Terel politely.

"General Kira? Come on, Terel, I've known you since you were born. You can call me Nerys."

"It's unheard of on Cardassia for a child to address an adult by the given name." Terel didn't want to offend, but Grandpapa had been getting increasingly insistent on the necessity for abiding by Cardassian protocols at all times if one were to be a success at Central Command Prep.

Kira stifled her first response, which would have been "Well, you're not on Cardassia now." "I see," she responded instead. "Then at least let's drop the "General" - "Kira" will do nicely, don't you think?"

"Yes, of course, Kira," the boy replied.

"I'll call you Nerys," Julian piped up. "No one gets excited when I call Dr. Bashir Uncle Kukalaka."

"The House of Garak has its own special protocols, I'm afraid." Terel was trying to sound disapproving, but he was having trouble suppressing a grin.

"Speaking of protocols, it would be wrong for me to take credit for the food. Notar prepared it all, and Odo warmed and served it," Kira added.

"Are you enjoying that cooking school?" Terel asked the older boy.

"Best thing that ever happened to me. I'm sure glad the Siskos could get me into the Culinary Institute in Paris, Earth. Otherwise I'd still be stuck at Vedek Tech."

"The monastery school at Sarkanth is one of the finest on Bajor," Odo sniffed. "It was no fault of the Vedeks that you never showed interest in any subject unrelated to your stomach." Odo adored and was adored by his other three children, but his relationship with Notar had always been vexed. Even though the boy had clearly been obsessed with food since they brought him home from the orphanage, Odo could never rid himself of the irrational notion that Notar's decision to devote his life to cooking wasn't in some way a calculated revenge against the father who didn't need to eat.

"Well, when I'm making a fortune with my restaurants, you'll have something else to say, Father," Notar replied defensively. "Quark says I have quite an eye for profits." Notar had spent countless hours loitering around Quark's bar over the years, and had worked there part time during four of his school vacations, once more choosing a course of action guaranteed to annoy Odo.

"That's if you don't eat up all the profits first," Lupaza interposed mischievously.

Papa and Grandpapa had given Terel plenty of practice in defusing family tensions. "Do you plan to open restaurants on Earth, Notar?" he asked diplomatically.

"No, the Terrans are really too provincial for my tastes. Except for a Vulcan place or two, most of their cities only feature the various Terran cuisines. I'd rather have a more intergalactic appeal. I thought I might ask your dad for some help setting up shop on one of the Nors."

"I'm sure he'd be delighted to do anything he can."

"Enough about us; boys, let's talk about your family." Kira changed the subject decisively, hoping to keep further domestic disputes private. "How do you like having a little sister?"

"Prelenda's a great baby, not fussy all the time like Enabran was," said Julian. "I forgot. Mummy sent pictures." He dug into his jacket pocket for a photo padd and passed it around the table. All of them cooed appreciatively at the little Cardassian face with its wide apart, round blue eyes.

"My, she does look just like Garak," Pol remarked.

"Yes, everyone says so," Julian confirmed.

"And you're enjoying the new house? We can't wait to see it," Kira continued.

"There's so much room, you'll think you're staying in tourist accommodations," Julian enthused. "There'll be even more when Terel goes off to Central Command Prep." He made an "unhappy" face.

"Ridgie, you know you can't wait to start bossing the others around," his brother insisted.

"I'd rather go with you." The younger boy was close to tears. Then he deflected his emotions with one of his father's patented rhetorical moves. "Although I must say I'm not too keen on that soldier stuff."

"What do you like to study in school, Julian?" Yoshi put in tactfully.

"I like reading stories and making up my own. I want to be a writer like Prelok and Oscar Wilde and Jake Sisko. With all these strange people on the station this week, I can look for new character types. This is better even than a Nor at festival time."

"You and Pol can go stare at all the aliens together, then," said Lupaza. "He stands around watching people so much they're going to start thinking he's a creep."

"Is it because you want to be a writer, too, or a security officer like Odo?" Terel asked.

"No," said Pol bashfully.

"He's practicing for when he starts shapeshifting," Notar announced. "He wants to have all those various types firmly implanted in that little Changeling brain of his."

Kira shot her oldest son one of her patented "not in front of strangers" glares.

"Um, Yoshi and I had better go back to the guest quarters and pack. We're taking off pretty early tomorrow," said the chastened Notar. He kissed his mother and sister goodbye and shook hands with everyone else. He refused to meet Odo's withering gaze. Yoshi, too, made polite farewells and hurried embarrassedly out the door.

"So, Ridgie," said Pol "let's do what my sister says. The people watching on the Promenade should be excellent this evening. Is it all right for us to go, Father?"

"I suppose," Odo harrumphed, "but don't get in anyone's way. I don't want my own son causing a security incident."

"Have I ever?" the boy responded breezily, already nearly out into the corridor.

"Terel," Lupaza asked, "Have you ever wished upon the wormhole?"

"I don't think I have."

"Can we, Mother?"

"Certainly, you run along," Kira said warmly.

Lupaza took Terel's hand and pulled him out of the room. Odo had seen her do it countless times when the two children had been together. Now, for the first time, however, he noticed that they were hardly children any longer. Lupaza, spared the constant semi starvation of Kira's childhood during the Occupation, had always been rounder and softer than her mother, but now the roundness was settling into the curves of a woman's body. And Terel, with his mixture of fearlessness and shyness, had taken on a proud Cardassian swagger. Odo saw him place his free hand lightly and protectively on Lupaza's shoulder. "Hmmm," Odo thought to himself.

***

Odo finished regenerating two hours before he and Kira needed to get up and face the first day of summit meetings. Re forming, he slid himself weightlessly into bed beside Nerys. "I'm not asleep," she murmured, snuggling down into his arms, "Who could sleep with all we're responsible for today?"

"Let's just try to relax together then," he replied, hugging her tightly to him.

"Mmm, nice, you do know how to relax a girl," she returned playfully.

"Nerys," Odo ventured, his voice soothing, "I think Terel and our Lupaza are a bit sweet on each other."

"What?" Kira detached herself from his embrace and propped herself up on one elbow. "You're dreaming."

"Changelings don't--"

"Dream. I know. But you can't be serious about this."

"Just watch them for a while."

"I have watched them," Kira retorted. "I haven't seen anything that would lead me to your conclusion."

"Now, Nerys, my darling," Odo said playfully, "While you would be the first person I'd go to if I wanted to engage in an act of sabotage, you're the last person I'd seek out to tell me whether someone was in love with someone else."

Kira gave him a little slap on the arm. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Never," he cooed. "We Changelings have very long memories."

She refused to be placated. "Well, if what you say is true, we'll have to be on our guard."

"Why?" asked Odo, puzzled. "I think it's rather sweet. They've known each other since they were babies. He's a serious, well mannered boy." Not like our Notar, Odo thought, but didn't say. Nerys had always indulged their elder son shamefully and reacted emotionally whenever Odo criticized him. "And his mother is one of your best friends."

"His grandfather is Gul Dukat!"

"Ahh, so that's it. Like grandfather, like grandson."

"Precisely," said Kira vehemently. "The thought of a Dukat . . . interested . . . in my daughter it makes my skin crawl."

"Nerys," Odo protested, "he's not the same Dukat." He made one of his fingers gelatinous and began to massage the ridges of her nose. "Now what do I tell you to say when you start assuming that Lupaza is going to react to a situation precisely as you would have."

"She looks like me, but she isn't me," Kira recited, like a penitent schoolgirl.

"Very good," said her husband, moving his finger to more sensitive places.

***

Pol awoke from a deep sleep only to find Julian Garak sitting bolt upright on Notar's old bed, staring at him intently.

"Ridgie, what are you doing here? It's the middle of the night. Did Terel kick you out for snoring again?"

"No," said the younger boy. "I'm waiting for you to turn gelatinous."

Pol sat up in bed. "Well, I'm not going to. So go back to your room."

"But it's been seventeen hours since we got here. You'll have to regenerate some time. Notar said you were a Changeling."

Pol took a deep breath. "Listen, Julian, this is almost as long a story as your family's, but even though I am a Changeling, my shapeshifting abilities are turned off." Pol was old enough now to understand most of the science involved in his conception, but it would be easier to give Julian the explanation his father had given him when he was small.

"Can't you turn them on so I can see?"

"It's not that simple. They were turned off when I was implanted in my mother, so that some of father's substance could develop in her womb, like a humanoid baby. Once they're turned back on, they stay on. Mother and Father told me it was up to me to choose when, anytime after my last birthday. Then I'll link with Father, and I'll be a shapeshifter just like he is. It's a big step; I'll never be the same again. So I don't want to hurry."

Julian was clearly disappointed, but he didn't press the issue. "Like our family won't ever be the same once Terel goes to military school?"

"Yes," said Pol gently. "Something like that."

"But wait, you said you were made from your father's substance? Then you aren't really a hybrid, even though your parents are of different species?"

"That's right. Lupaza isn't either. She's a clone of mother."

"Like a Vorta?"

"Sort of," Pol answered, "But don't ever say that around this house."

"Wow," said Julian. "Your family sure is interesting. They'd make great characters in a book."

"You going to write it?"

"Maybe," Julian replied smugly. Then something struck him as odd. "Wait a minute, though. I think you're teasing me. You have to be a hybrid; you look just like your mother, not your father."

"That is a great mystery," Pol agreed. "Dr. Bashir says that because Changeling DNA has no codes for fixing physical appearance, he hypothesizes that I took on the physical attributes of my mother while I was connected to her body. However, that doesn't explain my blue eyes. There are no blue eyes anywhere in the clan Kira." Pol hesitated to confide a very private thought, but despite the difference in their ages, he and Julian had long been each other's confidants. "I have my own explanation, however," he added at last. "Even though it's not scientific."

"What is it?"

"I I think," Pol stammered. It always embarrassed him to have conceptualized himself so lyrically, "--that I'm an image of my father's love for my mother - the outward appearance he treasured so deeply and so long, and the eyes that saw through to her soul."

"Gosh, that's beautiful," whispered Julian. "I'll be sure to put that in my book."

***

Kira and Odo were long gone, attired in their dress uniforms and ready to supervise the opening session of the summit, when the children began to awake. Terel and Julian emerged first, replicated some breakfast, and waited patiently as first Pol and then Lupaza emerged sleepy eyed from their respective bedrooms. Soon all four of them, fed and dressed, rushed down to the Promenade.

People were everywhere, jabbering in hundreds of different languages that resolved themselves into comprehensibility for the children, thanks to the universal translators embedded every 50 centimeters along the railings. Julian and Pol did an "eye count," spotting at least four alien species that had none and one representative of the long celebrated galactic champion Bitari with their 36. Two seven foot tall Antareans passed, and Terel and Julian both laughed, nudged each other, and cried out "Elmo!" in unison.

As the children walked down to the ground level, a large Cardassian contingent approached them from the opposite direction, headed by Keldor Skantak, Cardassian ambassador to the Federation. The ambassador had once or twice visited Garak at home on matters of trade policy, and Terel gave him a polite nod as he passed. Skantak held out an arm to detain him.

"Young Dukat, isn't it?" he said. "What an exciting time to be visiting some of your little Bajoran friends here on the station." As a practiced diplomat, he almost kept all the condescension out of his voice. Terel, as a practiced recipient of Cardassian anti Bajoran sentiments, caught it all the same.

"These are my Bajoran friends, Lupaza and Pol," he responded evenly. Divesting Julian of his scarf with some annoyance, he added, "and this is my brother Julian Garak."

"Of course," said the ambassador smoothly. "He's grown so much I hardly recognized him."

One of the ambassador's bodyguards, everything in his appearance revealing him to be a grizzled and scarred veteran of many campaigns, unexpectedly spoke up. "Garaks and Dukats in the same family. I certainly never thought I'd live to see that day!"

"Well, you clearly have, Tarkon," the ambassador replied. From his tone, there was no mistaking the implication that the man wouldn't live to see many more days if he ever stepped out of line to such an extent again. Skantak bid the boys a hasty good bye and swept off with his retinue.

Continuing to negotiate the crowds with difficulty, the children finally just lined up against one of the storefronts to wait until the congestion eased. They hadn't been there but a few minutes when Pol, scanning the approaching traffic, let out a frustrated, "Oh, no!"

"What's up brother," Lupaza asked.

"There," the boy pointed. "It's a Vorta with trailing Jem'Hadar. He's seen us, I know."

"Vorta are a pain," Julian agreed. "We've got far too many on Cardassia, if you ask me. But they don't usually bother with insignificant people, like kids."

"Oh, they'll bother with him, all right," Lupaza groaned, as Pol hung his head. Sure enough, the

Vorta made a beeline for them, never losing his gracefulness of motion as the Jem'Hadar pushed people out of his way. Coming face to face with Pol, he bowed his head and held out his arms, palms upward in deference. The Jem'Hadar stood stiffly at attention, an awestruck expression in their eyes.

"Greetings, young Founder," the Vorta said silkily to Pol. "I am honored to make your acquaintance at last. Let me introduce myself. I'm Weyoun, head of the Commonwealth delegation to this welcome exchange of ideas."

"You can't be Weyoun! Weyoun died saving Mummy and Grandpapa from the ogre curse," Julian protested. "The Battle for Terok Nor," whose stirring climax included this incident, was one of Papa's most enthralling bedtime stories.

The Vorta gave the youngster a look that was anything but adoring. However, shrewdly realizing that the Bajoran boy but not all Bajoran? was under the Founder's protection, his voice carried no trace of the hostility conveyed by his eyes. "Many Weyouns have died in the service of the Dominion, my boy. I'm the ninth of my line. I am gratified that one of my predecessors could do your family such an important service." The Vorta turned again to Pol, "A charming little solid friend you have here, divine one."

Pol cringed at the amazement on Terel and Julian's faces, and the amusement in Lupaza's. "I'm sure you'll acknowledge the importance of solids and Changelings working together, as your species and mine always have." Pol hated himself for saying it, but if you didn't toss these parasites a bone, they would never go away.

His words had the desired effect. "You honor me more than I can say," Weyoun intoned, backing away and proceeding with his escort through the crowd once more.

"Sure is tough when your twin brother's a god," Lupaza said with a mocking grin. "You should see what goes on when one of those slimy elves catches him out together with Father!"

"Does this kind of thing happen often?" Terel gaped.

"Often enough," Pol responded sulkily.

At that moment, the voice of the station's computer sounded from every speaker. "Attention, attention. The inaugural session of the intergalactic summit will commence in five minutes in the meeting hall located in Cargo Bay 4." The voice repeated the message three more times at thirty second intervals. The effect was close to magic. The crowd disappeared almost as if a mass beam out had been implemented. The four children suddenly found themselves the only inhabitants of that section of the Promenade. "At last!" Lupaza exclaimed. "Let's go on to Quark's. He's got a surprise waiting for us."

***

The crowds that had filled the bar to maximum profitability capacity for the past week had vanished at the announcement of the computer voice. Except for the ever reliable Morn, the place was suddenly deserted. The extra Ferengi staff Quark had brought in from other planets were now lounging at the tables. He'd had to guarantee them a total compensation package for the two weeks of summit generated business, but it still galled him that he couldn't take them off the clock now that the business had dried up temporarily. "Hey, you," he shouted to one of them, "I'm taking the cost of that synthale out of your wages."

So he was pleased to see the four children bounding through the door. No business for the Dabo tables, but kids did like to consume food and drink. "Welcome, customers," he called. "What can I serve you?"

Lupaza grabbed Quark's left lobe and intoned "My child, your pagh is so . . . BIG today" in her best Kai Winn voice. It was a game they had played since she was five. "All the better to hear your orders, my dear." Quark gave the ritual reply. "Maraltian seevale," Lupaza said.

"One ginger tea," Quark grinned. "And for you, Pol?"

"My usual. Beer," said the boy in his deepest voice.

"One root beer coming up. Enjoy it while you can, future changeling."

Terel and Julian had met Quark on one occasion when he'd made a business trip to Cardassia, but they had never visited the bar. Still, it was fairly obvious how the game was played. "We'll both have kanar, bartender," Terel announced.

"Two more root beers?" When the boys didn't object, Quark poured them out.

"Put everything on my account, Quark," Pol said.

"Oh, that account that's six months overdue?"

"I'll get a job once the school term's over. I promise."

"Sure, just like last vacation, when I had to cancel out the entire bill as your birthday present."

"Saved you the trouble of shopping," the boy grinned.

"You don't have to put our root beers on Pol's bill," Julian broke in, "Papa says that with all the profits you've taken from the Nor franchises, the least you can do is give us a few free drinks."

"Ridgie!" Terel protested, kicking him.

"Considering that your 'Papa' could never have started the Nors in the first place, and made a small fortune from them I might add, without me and my contacts on Ferenginar, I think he can afford to let his sons spend some of the outrageous allowances he gives them in my poor establishment," Quark retorted, but with a twinkle in his eye.

"So," asked Lupaza, unable to contain her growing excitement. "Is it ready, Quark?"

"I have prepared at your bidding a holosuite equipped with the brand new combat game 'Bajoran Resistance Fighter,'" Quark replied magisterially.

"It's supposed to be super exciting," Lupaza enthused. "Finish your drinks fast, boys, so we can go play."

"Just a minute," Quark cautioned. "The safety protocols on this one are only effective for players 1.5 meters tall and 50 kilograms in weight. I'm afraid you can't take 'Ridgie' here in with you."

"Aw, Quark, come on, when did you ever stick to any of the restrictions on your holoprograms," the girl protested, while simultaneously batting her eyelashes alluringly at the Ferengi.

"When I'm renting to the children of the station Security Chief and the Commerce Minister of Cardassia, that's when."

"Pretty please?"

"Absolutely not. And don't think you can persuade me with your Dabo girl routine."

"It's all right," said Terel. "You and Pol go in, and I'll stay here with Julian."

"But I got it for you boys," Lupaza pouted. "It's no fun at all without Cardassians." She was too politic to express her entire thought aloud "--Cardassians for me to expel from Bajor."

"Fine," Pol said. "You and Terel play, and Julian and I can amuse ourselves with the dart board."

"No, I don't want to spoil everyone's fun. I'd really rather go explore the rest of the station, now that the crowds are gone. You go up to the holosuite," Julian insisted.

"And catch it for all the trouble you get into on your own?" Terel retorted.

"I won't get into trouble, I promise," Julian whined. "Come on, he's not a baby anymore," Lupaza urged.

"It would be more fun with three," said Terel reluctantly. "But will your parents be mad at us for leaving Ridgie alone?"

"Not if you don't tell them," Quark suggested.

"All right," Pol decided, "but if my father blows a capacitor, I'm going to tell him it's all your fault, Quark."

"As if it isn't always my fault with him, any way?"

Lupaza kissed him on the cheek, "Oh, you know his life would be empty without you to harass," she purred sweetly. "Let's get ready for battle, boys."

Julian watched them ascend the stairs to the holosuites, and then, giving a little sigh, headed for the door. "Hey, young Garak," Quark called after him. The boy turned with an inquiring look. "Come on over here and have another root beer for the road. It's on the house."

***

Julian sat by the corner rail of the upper level of the Promenade, his legs dangling over the edge. This was the place where so many of Naughty Nog's adventures had begun. Unfortunately, he saw nothing below that was likely to send him on any exciting missions. Suddenly he was startled as a hand grasped the collar of his jacket and pulled him to his feet. "Julian, what are you doing here by yourself?" Odo's voice growled behind him.

Oops, thought Julian to himself. Turning to face his host, who was looking at him more like a policeman than a godfather, he gave what he hoped was a most disarming smile. "The others are playing a game in the holosuites, and Quark said I was too little."

"And they left you alone? Those twins have a lot of explaining to do."

"Please, Odo, Pol was going to stay with me, but I talked him into going with Terel and Lupaza. I wanted to explore all the famous places on the station, from Papa's stories and Jake Sisko's books. This is where Jake and Nog used to sit for hours, before Constable Gruff'n'Grumm would chase them away." Julian grinned mischievously.

"I'm sure that the constable was only doing what was best for the boys," Odo sniffed. "Perhaps he was partly responsible for Nog joining Starfleet, where he's now assistant chief engineer on a galaxy class starship."

"Really?"

"Yes. And he's married to a Bolian transporter technician. They have a little girl and a little boy."

"Blue Ferengi!" Julian whistled. "I'd love to see that."

"Perhaps when Rom finishes his shift, he'll show you some pictures of his grandchildren. Now I have work to attend to as well, but perhaps you should just sit quietly at Quark's until the others are finished in the holosuite. This isn't the best time for someone unfamiliar with the station to be exploring - especially if he's only nine years old."

"But I never get the chance to be on my own. There are so many children in our family, and either Papa or Mummy is usually at home all the time. Papa seems so worried that we'll get lonely; but sometimes being alone is sort of fun."

Odo smiled. His children had occasionally made the same complaint. "All right, Julian, you can continue your explorations. But don't stray from the Promenade. And one more thing."

"What?"

Odo pushed the hair away from Julian's forehead. "Why are you trying to disguise the fact that you're part Cardassian?"

Julian gave him a knowing look. "It's not that I'm ashamed of it, if that's what you think, any more than I'm ashamed of looking Bajoran when I'm on Cardassia. It's just that this is a Bajoran station, and people act more like themselves around you if you're what they expect to see."

"As your Papa always says?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"Let's just say I'm very familiar with how his mind works."

***

Julian went by the original tailor shop, now one of the Elegance boutiques, and was rather flattered at how attentive the staff became when he identified himself. It was almost as good as the way the Cardassian ambassador deferred to Terel, although of course nothing like the way the Vorta and Jem'Hadar had treated Pol. Despite the two root beers and a large breakfast, his peregrinations were beginning to affect his stomach, so he next betook himself to the Replimat and bought a piece of larish pie with one of the 100 strips of latinum his indulgent father had given him to spend on the trip. He imagined that the table where he sat was the very one where Papa and Uncle Kukalaka used to have all their lunches, although of course he couldn't be sure.

He was very surprised when he saw the old Cardassian soldier who had been so rude to them earlier heading directly for his table, where he sat down without invitation. "So, sonny, your name is Garak. Not a very common one." The man chuckled as if at some unspoken joke. "Is your father by any chance Elim Garak?"

Of course Papa was in the government, Julian thought, trying to rationalize why this unpleasant man might be interested in his identity; frankly, the man's attention made him uneasy. "Yes, he's the Cardassian Minister of Commerce," the boy replied proudly.

"I thought as much. I used to work with him, a long time ago."

"Oh, were you in the clothing business?" Julian somehow doubted that this could have been the case, but it was a logical inference from the man's remarks.

The man let forth with another vaguely obscene laugh, "Back when I knew him, we were neither of us in the clothing business."

Julian was puzzled. Somehow he had always assumed that Papa's tailoring career had begun very early in his life. "What did you do then?"

The man stared at him for nearly a minute, long enough to make Julian quite uncomfortable. "I think that's something he needs to tell you," the man said at last. "And when you ask him, tell him Tarkon sends his regards." With still another of his unpleasant laughs, the man got up from the table and left.

That was strange, Julian thought, with a little shiver. He put another bite of pie into his mouth, but the interruption had caused the yamok sauce on top to soak through, making the taste a little too strong for his liking. Oh, well, he had plenty of latinum. He'd get a new piece.

At the replicator next to his, a Jem'Hadar was piling the components of a full course meal onto a tray. Julian was intrigued. The man had a nearly full vial of Ketracel white hooked up to his tube, and besides, Jem'Hadar metabolism couldn't process regular food, even if they were starving. Doubtless he was in service to a Vorta, although, again, Julian had heard that all the delegates were being fed in the meeting hall to save time.

"What are you staring at, boy?" the Jem'Hadar suddenly asked, apparently able to observe Julian without the necessity of turning his head in his direction.

The boy jumped, but then smiled politely. "Hello, I'm Julian, I was just thinking what a wholesome meal you've put together there."

"Wouldn't know. Just take the orders," the Jem'Hadar growled. "Barmet'likan."

"Excuse me?"

"Name's Barmet'likan."

"Oh, very nice to meet you."

"Safer to keep your eyes to yourself, boy Julian," Barmet'likan said meaningfully as he began to walk out of the Replimat with his tray. The warning did nothing to abate Julian's curiosity. Once the Jem'Hadar was out of sight, he resolved to follow him.

***

Julian had a real talent for trailing people without their suspecting it. He'd been practicing for the past several years anytime he could escape from Terel's supervision at the Nor. (There was absolutely no escape from his parents' watchful eyes.) The Jem'Hadar was clearly heading for the habitat ring, and unless his keen peripheral vision extended to the back of his head, he had no idea that the boy was shadowing him. Of course, you had to take the turbolift to most of the guest levels, and Julian hadn't quite figured out how to remain inconspicuous in a turbolift. Amazingly, though, Barmet'likan didn't summon the turbolift. He ascended four levels through various emergency stairs and engineering conduits. Julian admired the bulky man's surprising agility. He hadn't yet spilled anything on the tray.

The Jem'Hadar finally emerged onto one of the corridors of the habitat ring. Julian clung three meters below on the ladder. The man apparently stood motionless for several seconds, then his heavy tread sounded on the floor. Julian counted 100 steps, dying away to the right, then scampered up the ladder and turned in the same direction. Just as he reached a corner, the sound of the footsteps abruptly ceased. He peered around the wall. At the very end of the hall, two Klingons were engaged in heated conversation. Barmet'likan was nowhere to be seen.

Julian reasoned that the man had gone into one of the guest quarters on the hall, although he could swear he hadn't heard a door open. Well, that was the end of the game. He didn't suppose he could ring at every room just to see who answered. Somewhat let down, he strolled along the corridor, only to notice something odd. The rooms only began again where the Klingons were standing. All along the section Julian had traversed, the walls were pure bulkhead. He ran the length of the hall quickly and panted out to one of the Klingons, "Did a Jem'Hadar just come this way?"

"He'd be on the floor at our feet if he had," one of them roared. "You don't think we'd have accepted these lodgings if any of them were staying here."

"I know he turned this corner."

"We just came out a second ago," said the other Klingon. Then he regarded Julian suspiciously, "What's a puny Bajoran like you doing on the trail of a Jem'Hadar?"

"Uh, he left some latinum in the Replimat. I wanted to return it to him." Julian smiled beatifically.

"I'd leave well enough alone, my boy," the first Klingon advised. "If you find him, he'll probably eviscerate you as a thief." They both laughed loudly and walked off in the opposite direction.

Julian paced the corridor six times, studying the walls. There was no sign of the slightest opening or crack. "Jem'Hadar simply do not vanish into thin air with someone's lunch," he said to himself emphatically.

***

He entered Quark's at a dead run, caroming off the massive frame of Morn, who was on his way to the waste extraction cubicle. "Whoa, young Garak, you got voles in your pants?" the Ferengi cautioned.

"I just saw a Jem'Hadar disappear from the habitat ring!" Julian announced, flushed with the excitement and the exercise.

"He probably just beamed up to his ship," said Quark. "With the summit in progress, there must be a hundred vessels orbiting the station."

"I don't think so. If you heard the whole story--"

The chatter of excited voices signalled that Terel, Pol, and Lupaza had completed their game of Bajoran Resistance Fighter. Julian decided it would be better to tell his tale to them. Quark tended to be skeptical about any marvels that didn't point toward profit.

"And you thought you'd captured me!" Lupaza was saying to Terel with triumph in her voice. "Nothing like a combined frontal assault and flanking movement on a lone captor with a phaser in his hand."

Terel, although mortified at being overpowered by a mere girl, was nevertheless still basking in the pleasant sensation that had resulted as she sat on his chest while her holographic comrade disarmed him. "Next time, I'll be ready," the boy promised. Pol, meanwhile, was silent. He never quite saw what there was to get worked up about in fighting and shooting.

"Guess what, guys," Julian interrupted. "While you were playing I followed a mysterious Jem'Hadar into the habitat ring . . . and he just vanished - poof."

"Ridgie, I'm sorry we left you alone for so long, but don't go off with one of your stories just to get back at us," Terel replied.

"No, honest, it really happened. Come with me and I'll show you," his brother pleaded.

It was the least they could do after abandoning him, each of the other children decided. Besides they needed something else to entertain them.

***

"See, there's no way he could have exited the corridor without either me or the Klingons seeing him," Julian was explaining, "And why would he sneak up here by all the back stairs and conduits just so he could be transported back to his ship?"

"He was carrying food, not a bomb, what could he be trying to hide anyway?" asked Lupaza.

"You know," Pol interjected. "It's awfully odd that there aren't any rooms on this corridor. I've been all over the habitat ring, and I've never seen this extensive a length of hallway with no quarters."

"Maybe, there are quarters, and the entrance is hidden." added Julian, picking up on Pol's train of thought.

Terel banged on the wall with his fist several times. "It does sound a bit hollow," Lupaza observed. "Let's go to the Security office and get a scanner," Pol suggested. "We can tell if there are any life signs behind the bulkhead."

"Odo lets you borrow his security scanners?" Terel asked.

"Not exactly," Lupaza responded with a grin. "But that doesn't mean we don't know how to take one out of there."

As they headed off to Odo's office, however, the four young people found themselves abruptly immobilized by the familiar, paralyzing tingle of a transporter beam. They rematerialized in a large room, outfitted with the familiar habitat ring furnishings. Some highly discordant music was playing from the wall speakers. Julian recognized Barmet'likan standing behind what looked like some kind of miniature transporter unit. A meter to his left was a Vorta, whose head, arms and upper torso were visible above a rounded, wheeled mechanism that looked like a smaller version of a Bajoran ground car.

The Vorta addressed them almost immediately. "So sorry to take you charming youngsters by surprise," he said. "I simply couldn't have you pounding on my walls and attracting undue attention. You particularly, young Founder" this with a bow towards Pol "will, I hope, forgive me. Let me introduce myself. My name is Weyoun."

"That's impossible," Julian blurted out. "You've already met us, and besides, you're at the summit meeting."

"Ah, that would be one of my successors. What number are they up to now? I confess I have stopped keeping count."

"Nine," Pol replied.

"How time does fly! Well, I'm Weyoun number four. I was rather seriously damaged during the Battle for Terok Nor many years ago. Now, Vorta much less incapacitated than I are routinely retired by the Dominion. Had I been conscious when they took me to the Infirmary for repairs, I would have told them not to bother. When it was determined that I would live, the divine Odo," Weyoun bowed his head and held out his arms, "gave me sanctuary. I felt that it would not be in anyone's best interest should my survival become widely known. So I have had to live a rather secluded life since then."

"You've been trapped behind this wall all these years?" Julian's voice combined amazement and pity.

"Oh, no, no. I have a delightful little house in Rekantha province. Barmet'likan here tends to whatever needs I have that require contact with the general public. He didn't desert me even when the White became available practically everywhere." The Jem'Hadar grunted and turned away to lower the volume on the music player. "I've devoted much of my time to studying music," the Vorta acknowledged. "It has been very frustrating still not to be able to play an instrument or sing on key, but I have developed a keen appreciation for listening to music. Klingon opera and Terran rap are my favorites.

"As to why I'm here, with so many Dominwealth citizens all over Bajor during the summit, Odo believed that I would be safer in a secure area on the station. No one can come in or out unless Barmet'likan or I beam them from this transporter. A dampening field blocks any other transporter devices, and we're the only ones with the access codes, besides Odo. Unfortunately the dampening field also plays havoc with my replicator. I had thought that a Jem'Hadar with a food tray would be less conspicuous than a team of station engineers, but I was clearly mistaken. I hope you'll understand that I couldn't afford to let you children compromise my safety."

"Are you going to make us stay in here until the summit's over?" Lupaza inquired gloomily.

"Imprison the son and daughter of my benefactor? Never. I've sent a communication to Odo on his secure channel. When his duties permit, he'll come and escort you safely away from this area."

"If you were hurt in the Battle for Terok Nor," Terel asked, "then are you the Weyoun who saved Gul Dukat and Tora Ziyal? We were told you had been killed."

"That was the report that was given out. And you would be?"

"Terel Dukat."

"Gul Dukat's son?"

"Grandson. Ziyal's my mother."

"My, my, you don't talk much for a Dukat," Weyoun observed.

"My brother Julian here talks enough for both of us," Terel grinned.

"Snoops too much, too," Barmet'likan put in.

Undeterred by these criticisms, Julian said eagerly, "Then tell us how it really was when you saved Mummy and Grandpapa."

"If you insist." Weyoun had to admit that his faithful Jem'Hadar did not make a particularly scintillating conversational partner. It would be refreshing to exercise his long unused rhetorical skills on this highly receptive audience. "We were waiting on the transport for Gul Dukat to come aboard. It was crucial that we evacuate at once. I became impatient, and, locating his whereabouts on the ship's scanners, beamed down to where he was arguing with his daughter that she had to leave with him. I called to him and told him he had to come now, whether she joined him or not. They both turned to look at me, and at the same instant I heard footsteps behind them and saw a man pointing a phaser in their direction. I shouted that they needed to get down, and Dukat fell upon Ziyal just as the man cried out 'She's a traitor' and fired. The energy pulse passed over them where they lay and regrettably struck my legs and rendered them totally useless. The man apparently ran back the way he had come and escaped. The next minute Starfleet soldiers were swarming all over the place. They took your mother and grandfather away. Given the sorry condition of my body, I'm sure they had no trouble accepting the news that I had been killed."

"So you know who tried to shoot them." Julian's eyes were ablaze with interest. "Grandpapa has been trying to find out forever."

"Yes, I do, but that's something I've always kept to myself. It never hurts to maintain a little leverage in one's life by maintaining sole possession of knowledge others are eager to possess."

At that moment the bulkhead wall disappeared in a blaze of light, through which strode Tarkon, who took advantage of the confusion to blast a large hole in Barmet'likan's chest with a disruptor he then pointed at Weyoun. "And I'm one of those people who's quite eager to possess it, Vorta," the Cardassian said. "Prefect Dukat should be grateful enough for the information to give me a worthy post." He spat on the ground. "It's a disgrace for a man who has given what I have to Cardassia to end his career baby sitting some mealy mouthed diplomat."

"I'm afraid your influence is not such as to make me surrender that information," Weyoun replied carefully, "even though I am impressed with how you discovered my little hiding place, eavesdropped through seven layers of soundproofing, and vaporized supposedly energy resistant duranium."

"There's plenty of advanced technology on Cardassia that doesn't get broadcast on CNN's Science this Light Year. As for finding you, if you want to uncover a secret, just follow a Garak." Tarkon gestured in Julian's direction. "Now, if you'll please tell me who that culprit was."

"As I said, I must respectfully decline. You are welcome to give me the same as Barmet'likan. Half a life is, quite often, NOT better than none. However, without intending to insult your intelligence, I should point out that killing me will bring you no closer to getting an answer."

"Maybe I should kill one of the brats instead."

"That too would be counterproductive," Weyoun argued silkily. "You could hardly win a promotion from Dukat by harming one of his grandsons, or the children of his old friend, General Kira."

"That's true." Tarkon pondered his dilemma for several seconds. "Well, then, I'll just wheel you out into the corridor, away from the transporter dampening field, and beam you up to my ship. I'll get you to talk there." He once more gestured toward Julian. "I learned quite a few tricks from his old man."

The Cardassian approached Weyoun, but Terel, who had been standing half a meter to the right of the Vorta, a protective arm extended around Lupaza's shoulders, and in front of Julian and Pol, released his hold and walked boldly forward, placing himself between Tarkon and Weyoun. "You're not going to do any such thing," he said calmly. "My grandfather will have no use for a man who would bully someone who's totally defenseless. If you leave now, we may decide not to say anything about this incident to anyone."

Tarkon barked out one of his unpleasant laughs. "Get out of my way, sonny. This isn't some holosuite game you're playing."

"No?" Terel returned, casting a meaningful sideways glance at Lupaza. "It reminds me precisely of the game we were playing this morning." He saw her give a slight nod in his direction.

Terel charged low at the man, knocking him to the floor, as Lupaza, lightning quick, knocked the disruptor from his hand. Pol expertly scooped it up and pointed it at the fallen Cardassian. Weyoun immediately activated an emergency distress button that was part of his mobile console. Thirty seconds later, Odo beamed in, accompanied by four deputies.

"Ah, Founder," said Weyoun, giving his usual gesture of obeisance. "It appears that my security has been breached. Thanks to these resourceful children, no permanent harm has been done, although it will be difficult to replace poor Barmet'likan."

Odo surveyed the scene in some amazement as his deputies pulled Tarkon to his feet and escorted him off to a holding cell. "Are you children all right?" he asked.

Lupaza ran up and hugged him tight. "Oh, yes, Father, Terel was so brave."

"Paza helped, too," Terel said, trying to sound modest; it was a difficult feat for either a Dukat or a Garak.

"Hmf, I see," Odo replied, returning his daughter's embrace.

***

After the excitement of the day, it was hard for Terel and Julian to get to sleep. After rehashing the details of the adventure they had shared several times, Julian finally mentioned the private conversation he had had with Tarkon. "That man said he used to work with Papa, that I should ask him about it. Do you think I should, Terel? And what did he mean when he said Papa taught him tricks for making people talk?"

His older brother pondered the questions for a while. Terel had recently, not without trepidation, approached his father concerning all the whispers in the Dukat family about Garak's past relationship to Palmor Dukat. It was a question Garak had long expected. He and Ziyal sat down with the boy and told him a sanitized but basically truthful account of his father's past as an agent of the Obsidian Order. Their son's reaction was not what his parents had feared. Truth to tell, Terel, after countless fights defending the honor of "your father, that sissy dress designer," was rather pleased to learn that Papa had once been one of the most feared men on Cardassia. And yet, Terel thought, Ridgie did so idolize Papa just the way he was now. Did he really need to know the whole truth just yet?

"Julian, that man was a disgrace to Cardassia. I think he was a total liar. I wouldn't even bother Papa about him if I were you."

"Okay," said Julian a bit dubiously. "You know I always do what you say, Terel."

***

Fortunately, after the summit ended, there were no more misadventures, and Kira, Odo, and the children spent a delightful month at their home in Dakhur province. There was even an excursion to visit Weyoun in Rekantha and see how he was adjusting to life with a Bajoran housekeeper, who had not been conditioned from birth to follow his orders unquestioningly. Now, however, Mummy and Prelenda were well settled into their routine, and school on Cardassia would be starting in just a few weeks. Reluctantly, Terel and Julian returned to the station and were now waiting at the docking port for the transport back to Cardassia to begin boarding. As the dreaded announcement came, the Cardassian boys formally shook hands with Odo and Kira and thanked them for their hospitality. Julian began walking down the ramp with Pol. Lupaza and Terel lingered. "I'll really miss you," the boy stammered, and then shyly kissed her on the cheek. Lupaza boldly took both his hands and planted a return kiss right on his lips, "Me too," she said and then ran hurriedly away toward her quarters, quite oblivious to anyone else. Terel glanced after her with a lovestruck grin, and then staggered down the ramp to catch up with his brother.

Kira's mouth dropped open in horror, as Odo gave her an "I told you so" look. "How long is it until that boy goes off to military school?" she asked her husband.

"Three weeks, I believe," he replied, amused.

"Prophets! I hope they don't give them any long vacations," said Kira Nerys.