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The Rack of this Tough World

By Cardie-ologist

It was Fourthday, Odo's least favorite day of the eight-day Cardassian week, because it was the day he had to review and organize the previous eight days' worth of crime reports for presentation and analysis in a briefing with the Prefect.  Even though conditions were far better on Terok Nor on this, his 65th Fourthday as security chief, than they had been on his first, the weekly survey of infractions and punishments still depressed him:  "Firstday, 0710, Bajoran male, 13, apprehended stealing two pairs of trousers from the clothing bazaar, lower level, Bajoran sector.  Sentence: one year at hard labor planetside;  0853, Bajoran female, 32, intoxicated, aimed foot at private parts of security trooper attempting to detain her.  Sentence: five years in ore processing . . ."

"ATTENTION: Security subsystem 21 beta now offline for routine diagnostic" the computer chirped, interrupting his perusal of the dreary accounts.  Odo jerked his head up sharply.  "Computer, repeat last message," he said.  "ATTENTION: Security subsystem 21 beta now offline for routine diagnostic," it chirped again with the infinite patience for repetition of the cybernetic mind.  So, he hadn't misheard. This was damned odd. Such a message was the code that indicated Bram needed to see him immediately.  Since subsystem 21 beta served only to monitor light-level fluctuations in the ore byproducts disposal bin, a space never traversed by any sentient beings possessed of vision, he had risked disabling its actual diagnostic routine and rigging it to kick in only when Bram activated the transponder hidden in his clan earring.  Once Odo had discovered that Dukat knew all about the work Bram did for him, however, such elaborate subterfuge had seemed superfluous.  Lately Bram would just ask one of the troopers to summon him.

He switched on the tracking-setting of his security sensor array.  Yes, it was definitely Bram's transponder, its signal coming from the communal workers' quarters in Upper Pylon 2.  Odo summoned a trooper to man the office, assumed his swiftest insect form, an engorna fly, and hurried to find out what was troubling his chief  "deputy."

***

Odo took his usual shape again behind a storage container a few meters to the right of the six-person sleeping unit from which Bram's signal was emanating.  As he emerged, he saw Bram pacing in front of the structure.  His friend walked briskly toward him and pulled him inside, placing his finger to his lips.   Since the building's occupants were currently on shift, the beds were empty, all except the one to the far left, which had its privacy curtain closed. From behind the curtain low moaning sounds were audible.  Bram stuck his head inside the makeshift cubicle, about three meters square.  A Bajoran woman, carrying a washbasin overflowing with blood-stained rags, her countenance grave,  hurried out, pausing to give a slight nod to Odo as she left the dormitory.  Bram then opened the curtain a crack and motioned Odo to follow him inside.

The security chief quickly located the source of the moans. A woman was lying face down on the narrow bed, her arms extended above her head, cradling it.  She had pulled the thin blanket up all the way to her hairline.  Bram walked over to the bed and knelt beside it, taking the woman's hand in his and gently stroking her hair, which was a deep red-brown and cropped shorter than the Bajoran female norm.  "Tam, Odo's here," he said softly.

"Please, Nachas, I can't." Her voice was muffled and the speech slurred.  Odo couldn't tell if that had resulted from her face being buried in the pillow or from some injury or illness.

"My love, he has to know about it.  You're the only one who can tell him."  The woman raised her head slightly to whisper something in Bram's ear.  Odo caught a glimpse of her face  and involuntarily recoiled.  It bore the marks of a savage beating.

Bram got up and drew Odo aside.  "This is my lover, Prelar Tam, she's been . . . attacked by one of the spoon-heads.  I want you to hear her story.  She'll tell it only if you don't look at her, and if you don't ask her any questions."  Bram's voice was as calm as ever, but there was a grim look in his eyes that Odo had never before seen there.

"Certainly.  I understand," the shape-shifter replied.  He knew that these callous assaults occurred all the time, but a general conspiracy of silence about them by both Bajorans and Cardassians prevailed. Bram had never brought a single one of them to his notice before.  He probably wouldn't have mentioned this incident either, except that it involved a fellow deputy--and his lover.

Bram returned to his position at Tam's bedside and knelt again, holding her hand tightly. "All right.  Take you time.  Tell it in your own way."

"I was coming off the night shift," the woman began tentatively.  "Before returning here, I wandered over to the bazaar.  I wanted to see if anyone had bought the stone soup bowl at the potter's.  I would have had enough credits in four more days to take it home with me.  To imagine now that I could have thought something like that was of any importance!" She breathed a deep, shuddering breath.

"He came up behind me, this big spoon-head.  There wasn't anyone around, not that it would have stopped him.  He pulled one arm behind my back and put his other arm around my throat.  The door to the chemist's was open." The deputy in her added, "another break-in, I'm afraid.  He dragged me into the back room and just started hitting me and hitting me . . . until I was unconscious--" Here she paused, overcome by the memory.

"You're doing just fine, beloved," Bram soothed. "Go on when you're ready."

Prelar Tam choked off her sobs and reluctantly continued, "When I came to, he'd . . . he'd torn off my clothes, and blindfolded me.  My hands were bound behind my back and each of my ankles tied to something. When I stirred, he grabbed my hair and called me these filthy names and said that he was glad I was awake--he wouldn't want me to sleep through my 'punishment.'   Then he ... he ... was all over me ... inside me, with his hands, his mouth, his horrible, scaly Cardassian pok'lem ... in the vilest ways." Her voice sank to the barest whisper.  "When I was fifteen, a Cardassian detachment passed by our farm, and two of them ...shared....me. I thought there couldn't be anything so terrible that could ever happen to me again, but compared to this, to that beast, it was nothing .... nothing."  She began to cry hysterically, pulling Bram closer to her.  He picked her up with infinite gentleness and hugged her to him, causing the blanket to slide down to her waist.

The heart-wrenching details of Tam's recitation had been disturbing enough to Odo as he stood motionless and silent at the foot of the bed.  What he saw when the falling bedclothes revealed her back, however, caused him to give an audible gasp of dismay.   It was covered with fiery, red Kardasi characters, apparently carved about a half centimeter deep into the flesh itself.

Bram, still clutching his lover to his chest, looked up, his own features reflecting her pain.  "The Cardie decided to leave her with a little souvenir of their encounter," he explained.  "I'd say he used one of the laser cutters that separate duranium flakes from the inert rock. She passed out from the pain nearly immediately, thank the Prophets.  When she regained consciousness, she was lying behind some ore containers on level 5, where he'd dumped her. One of the other deputies found her and called me."

"I-I don't know what to say, Bram."

"There aren't any words, Odo."

Tam's sobs had gradually subsided, and now she raised her head and looked into Bram's eyes. "Nachas, you'll pray to the Prophets for me, won't you?"

"Of course, Tam."

"You'll pray that they take me, in their mercy, because I can't go on after being .... after being . . . defiled. . . like this."

Bram stroked her thick auburn hair tenderly. "Shh, shh, none of that.  You know that when the Occupation ends, and I can get out of  this pesky life sentence, I'm going to marry you and make you my very own Bram Tam.  Nothing can change that."

She started to cry again, but somewhere along the way her sobs intersected with laughter.  "How many times have I told you that, married or not, I'll never change my name to Bram Tam," she muttered at length. "Bram Tam, indeed! I'd be a laughingstock."

Bram carefully sought an unbruised place on her forehead and kissed it.  "That's more like it, my girl.  Don't you worry. I think Prelar Nachas suits me spectacularly."

For a while now, Odo had felt that his presence during these intimate moments constituted another sort of violation of the unfortunate woman.  "Nachas, I'll wait for you outside. Come talk to me when you can," he said, noiselessly backing out through the curtain.

***

Bram exited the dormitory about a quarter hour later, looking determined to deflect the understandably somber mood.  Before Odo could speak, he asked with forced jauntiness, "I don't read Kardasi, Constable; what charming message did our friend use as his calling card?"

Odo knew that Bram turned to grim humor to manage the stress he had lived under since the Cardassians seized control of his life in adolescence.  So Odo responded in kind, as if they were discussing the continuing problem of young Bajorans painting anti-Cardassian graffiti on the walls of the Promenade.   "Not very original, I'm afraid. Various obscenities.  Derogatory references to female genitalia,  to a woman's virtue, to people of Bajoran ancestry."

"I thought as much."

"Has Tam had medical attention?" Odo asked.

"I got her painkillers and sleeping drugs from the chemist's.  Maral, the woman you saw,  is a healer; she's cleaned all the wounds and applied poultices to reduce the swelling.  As poorly equipped  as the Bajoran clinic here is,  it's the best we can do.  Tam's resting now, thankfully."

"In a few days, when the shock's worn off,  perhaps she can remember some more details about the man?"  Odo inquired delicately.

Bram gave him an odd smile.  "Oh, I know who he is; his name is Ka'ren Telessian.  He's been bragging about 'teaching a ridge-slut her lesson' at the fences all morning.  Besides, he's done this to other women here, twice before."

Odo stared at him utterly astonished.  "And no one ever reported this to me?"

"After the first assault I put his name on the list of undesirables needing transfer out of the Bajoran sector, but he just keeps coming back behind the fences when he's off duty."

"I'll put a stop to that at once," Odo harrumphed.  "I'll call some troopers and have him arrested without delay."

Bram continued to regard him with that strange grin.  "On what charge?"

"I think that's rather obvious!"

"Odo, over a year you've been on Terok Nor and you still don't realize that there's no law against Cardassians raping Bajoran women?  It's not only legal, it's the number-one leisure time activity of the Occupation."

"I am aware of  that, hmf,  regrettable fact, but surely this is different.  The man's a deranged sexual deviant."

"Some of the spoon-heads, when they take our women, play a little rough. Granted Telessian plays a good deal rougher than most--but not all. You wouldn't believe some of the tales I've heard, Constable. And plenty of Bajoran girls that go to a Cardassian's bed, they don't even live to tell the tale."

Odo just stood there, feeling totally out of his depth.  He'd had his own kind of hell in the lab, but it had also sheltered him from the grim reality of day to day life under the Cardassians, a reality that enabled Bram to talk about this unimaginable outrage as a routine occurrence.

"So where do you draw the line?" the big Bajoran was going on.  "Do you really imagine you can convince that precious Prefect of yours, who keeps a permanent stable of comfort women in the Cardassian barracks wing for his officers' pleasure, who selects a different female 'companion' every week, that Telessian is a dangerous criminal?"

"Well," Odo responded decisively, "I certainly intend to try."  He tapped his commbadge.  "Glinn Bragelia, Odo here. Send a trooper with a holorecorder to worker sleeping unit 36, third level, immediately."

"A holorecorder?" Bram queried.

"While Prelar is asleep, I'd like to get some images of what the Cardassian did to her back.  That might convince Dukat to take action."

"Suit yourself," said Bram with a shrug.

Odo paused to study his friend's face.  Naturally he was terribly upset by what had occurred, but there was still something somehow "off' in the way he was talking about the whole incident.  The shape-shifter sensed that more was on his mind, more that he wasn't telling.

"Nachas," Odo asked,  "if you didn't believe that I could do anything to stop this vicious predator, why did you bring me down here and compel Tam to tell me her story?"

Bram Nachas was one of the most straightforward men Odo had ever met, and, when he greeted Odo's question with all the tell-tale body language of a guilty suspect who was about to protest his innocence, the security chief knew his instinct had been correct. Cutting off the falsehood before the deputy could utter it, he said, "If there's something you don't feel comfortable sharing with me, I'll respect that, but please don't lie to me."

Bram grinned, his usual genuine grin, not the sour sarcastic smiles that had accompanied their conversation up to this point.  "All right, Odo, you win.  I brought you down here so that you'd understand when . . . when I killed that vile Cardassian bastard."  The Bajoran spoke as nonchalantly as if he were giving an ore output report. His eyes, however, gleamed with deep hatred.

"You can't do that," Odo exclaimed, flabbergasted.  "You'll be executed."

"Sure I will, but it will be worth it to know that he will never lay hands on one of our women again.  And don't worry about trying to shield me.  Afterwards I'll turn myself in and confess, just so you won't get caught between our friendship and your duties here on Terok Nor."

"What about Tam, the promise you made to be with her always after the Occupation is over?  You can't abandon her at a time like this." 

Bram put his hand on Odo's shoulder and looked him steadily in the eyes.  "Do you see any signs that the Occupation's ending, Constable?  Any hopes that the Federation, or the Klingons, or the Romulans will put pressure on the Cardies to stop what they're doing to us? Or that the Prophets are planning to intervene?  I've kept myself alive with that fantasy for sixteen years, but it's time for me to face facts.  What's better, to live a few more years involuntarily helping the spoon-heads steal my planet's resources or die knowing that I've gotten at least some small revenge on them? As for Tam, the one favor you can do for me is to use whatever influence you have with Dukat to get her taken off the conscript list so that she can go back to her parents' farm in Rekantha province and find a little peace."

Before the stunned shape-shifter could form a response, the security trooper arrived with the holorecorder.  Odo made an instant decision.  "Trooper, this convict is absent without leave from his work detail and in violation of curfew.  Arrest him and throw him into a holding cell."

Bram's face was a mixture of surprise and sadness at his friend's betrayal.  "No, please, Odo, don't do this, don't try to stop me," he implored.

The trooper, who knew that Bram worked undercover for Security, looked from one man to the other in bewilderment.  Odo addressed him sharply, "What are you staring at? I gave you an order.  Carry it out." 

The Cardassian pulled himself up to attention. "Yes, security chief."  Handing Odo the recording device, he drew his weapon and took Bram by the arm off into the direction of the Security complex.

Feeling utterly miserable, Odo steeled himself and walked back into the shelter where the horribly violated Prelar Tam tossed and groaned in fitful sleep.

***

As soon as he had made the holo-images, Odo asked to meet with the Prefect in his office.  Dukat messaged that he could see him in half an hour.  Odo presented himself at the entrance to Ops 27 minutes later, and a guard escorted him past the always suspicious eyes of the central operations staff after only a seven minute delay.

Dukat looked up from behind a stack of PADDs.  "So, Odo, what's the emergency?  I wasn't aware of any security crisis on the station."

"One of the Cardassian soldiers stationed here brutally assaulted a Bajoran woman last night."

Dukat's expression indicated that, while this was not a desirable situation, Odo was clearly over-reacting.  Aloud, however, he replied, "You know that I instruct every man who serves here to refrain from using excessive force when pursuing his pleasures. Give me the trooper's name, and I'll treat him to a severe reprimand."

Odo handed him the holo-images.  "In this instance, Prefect, I'm not sure a reprimand will be very effective."

Dukat sucked in his breath sharply and colored.  Odo could see that he was genuinely disturbed and sickened.  Nor was Odo surprised, although Bram doubtless would have been. Somehow this un-Cardassian reaction fit in with other parts of the Prefect's "criminal dossier" that Odo was constantly updating in his mind.

"And the name of this brute is?" Dukat demanded, sounding very grim.

"Ka'ren Telessian. I'm told this is the third woman he's attacked."

"Damn! I was afraid of something like this."

"I don't understand, Prefect.  What would lead you to expect such behavior from anyone?" Odo asked.  Some chief of security he was.  Everyone on the station but him seemed to know there was a monster among them!

"Sit down, Odo. It's a rather complicated situation."

"Complicated?"

"Yes, Telessian is the son of  Zolmetan Telessian, one of the most powerful men in the Obsidian Order.  Five years ago, the boy got involved in an 'unfortunate accident' with one of the slave girls in the Hall of Endurance.  Since then he's been given, and been transferred out of, nine different colonial assignments.  There are always vague references to 'unsuitability for duty.'  When Central Command dispatched him here, they gave me to understand that I'd better handle him somehow, because there was nowhere left to pass him onto."

"Then you'll let me arrest him?"

"I wish I could, Odo," Dukat sighed. "However, he's broken no laws.  My hands are tied."

"What if some Cardassian did this--" Odo waved a holoimage angrily "--to your Naprem?  Would your hands be tied then?"

Dukat clenched his fists.   "If anyone ever abused Naprem, I wouldn't need the law.  I'd personally break his neck," the Cardassian snarled. (Was this the way all humanoids regarded their laws, Odo wondered.  That the minute they failed to accord with one's own passions, one simply disregarded them?  He had assumed that humanoids made laws in order to regulate just such undesirably passionate impulses.  That was the primary appeal to him of the rule of law. )

"My chief deputy Bram intends to do just that. The latest rape victim is his lover, " Odo stated evenly.  "I've got him locked up to prevent him from carrying through with his intention.  Are you telling me that if I release him, and he succeeds in killing Telessian, you'll look the other way?"

Dukat regarded Odo with an admiring smile.  "Very clever, shape-shifter.  An elegant solution, and one that came right out of my own mouth.  Unfortunately, I can't very well countenance Bajorans killing every Cardassian who's wronged them.  We'd end up pardoning the entire Resistance.  I will put Telessian on notice in the strongest possible terms, but that's all I can do.  Should your Mr. Bram act rashly, he'll die for his crime."

Odo growled in frustration and rose to go.  Then he changed his mind and leaned forward across the Prefect's desk, placing both hands on its cold, metallic surface.  "Someday, Gul Dukat, Telessian will get careless and kill one of these women.  It's only a matter of time."

"Then at least he'd have violated one of the provisions of the Uniform Code, and you could arrest him," the Cardassian said drily.  Odo fixed him with a disgusted stare. "I'm sorry; it's not a matter for levity," Dukat went on, contrite.  "I know that we haven't equipped the Bajoran clinic to deal with such traumatic injuries.  Get their physician to draw up a list of whatever she needs to help make these women whole again--dermal regenerators, more powerful antibiotics and anti-inflammatory drugs, bone scanners.  I'll have our medical ward send down everything she requests."

Odo wasn't about to refuse a chance to improve on the dismal medical care provided for the workers, but it astonished him that Dukat could think that all the dermal regenerators in the quadrant would ever make these women "whole."  "That's all we're going to do, Prefect, let Telessian continue with his brutalities, and merely clean up better after him?"

Dukat lowered his eyes, as if stung by the accusation. "All right, Odo, I'll go this far.  Select any two troopers you wish and put the man under constant surveillance.  Give them permission to use acceptable force to deter him from committing any more outrages.  But be very clear about this: they cannot do him any permanent harm.  His father is far too dangerous a man for that."

"Begging your pardon, Prefect, I'm far better suited for extended surveillance activities than any trooper."

"That's true, shape-shifter, but I can't afford to have you absent from your post for days on end.  Furthermore, considering the special circumstances involved, I think it wise that the efforts to curb young Telessian's unfortunate proclivities remain entirely in Cardassian hands."

***

Odo trudged back to the Security Office and logged reports for two hours before he worked up the courage to go back to the holding cells and talk to Bram.  The big Bajoran was sitting on the bench with his head in his hands, his fingers absently twirling a strand of his wavy black hair.  Hearing Odo approach, he looked up, but did not get up.  "So, Constable, how long do you intend to keep me in here?"

"Until you promise me that you won't go after Telessian."

"I guess I'd better make myself at home, then," Bram answered ruefully.

"You broke parole.  I can have you sent back to the mines, where you can't get at him."

"You can."  The words were a challenge.

"I'd rather find a means to put the man away where he won't harm anyone again.  I just need some time to come up with a strategy," Odo said earnestly.

"You've talked to Dukat and still haven't found a solution? I can't believe it," Bram sneered mockingly.

"The Prefect says that he can't do anything because, as you reminded me, Telessian has broken no laws. Dukat is going to give him the strongest possible warning to stop such despicable behavior, and he's allowing me to assign two troopers to observe Telessian and intervene if he should try to attack another woman."

Bram arched his eyebrows.  "That's more than I would have expected.  Still, it's not likely to do much good.  The troopers will no doubt merely cheer Telessian on when he attempts his next conquest."

"Do you know of anyone I might trust not to do that?"  Odo was convinced that Bram could help him get justice, eventually, in this case, if only he would shake himself out of this atypical hopelessness and his fixation on making an heroic sacrifice to avenge the wrong done to Tam.

"What's the use?  When it comes down to Cardassian versus Bajoran, the spoon-heads will always stick with their own."

"But you have heard of someone?"

"There's an officer, Glinn Selemet, in the engineering corps.  He'd probably be hopeless at surveillance," Bram began without much enthusiasm.  "He was, however, born on Bajor and lived there until he was eight.  His father, Gul Trantar Selemet, was and still is the Cardassian governor of Musila Province. The Glinn speaks Bajoran fluently, with no trace of a Cardassian accent.  One of the deputies told me that Selemet likes to visit the Bajoran stalls in the bazaar and that one time a trooper tripped up an old woman there, just for the fun of it.  Selemet helped her to her feet with great concern about her being hurt and then had a heated argument with the other Cardassian concerning his behavior.  I've also heard other spoon-heads, from time to time, joking that Selemet has 'a hankering for an earring,' that he's some sort of Bajoran sympathizer."

"He sounds very promising," Odo replied, encouraged.  "I'll schedule an interview with him immediately.  Meanwhile, are you going to give me your promise to behave, so I can release you?"

"No, Constable, I can't."

"Very well." Odo said with great regret. "If you change your mind, the guards always know where to find me."

***

Glinn Selemet entered the Security Office and stood at attention, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and licking his lips nervously. He was quite young, with a wiry build, but about a head shorter than the typical male of his species.  Perhaps not so promising after all, it occurred to Odo.

 "Gul Dukat ordered me to come speak with you, Security Chief," the Cardassian announced stiffly, casting uneasy glances at the ceiling.

Unlike foolish me, he's always known that all Cardassian military offices are bugged, Odo said to himself, wishing he had some way to disable the damn thing.

"Please relax and sit down, Glinn Selemet."  The young man sat down, but did not relax.

"I understand, " Odo began cautiously, "that you don't believe Bajorans are an inferior species relative to Cardassians."

Selemet flushed.  "I don't care what the others whisper. No one can say that I have ever failed in my duties in support of the continuing Occupation of Bajor," he responded.

"I didn't mean to imply any such reproach.  I simply asked you whether you believe that Bajorans are inherently inferior to Cardassians."

The engineer fidgeted in his chair, considering his answer.  "No," he finally said in a small,  frightened voice. That was better, Odo thought, he didn't lie, even though he's terrified at giving an incriminating reply.

"A very interesting attitude from a Cardassian," Odo observed noncommittally.

"Please," Selemet went on with a decided note of desperation. "I do believe in Cardassia's fundamental right to survive.  We needed what Bajor had, we had the capability to take it by force, we are completely justified in retaining control of the planet by any means necessary.  The Bajorans have suffered the fate of many a weaker civilization whose territory and resources catch the interest of a stronger." Then he bowed his head and mumbled, "But that doesn't mean we have to tell ourselves that they deserved to be enslaved, or that they're animals or savages or superstitious primitives.  They've just been terribly . . . unlucky."

"You do, however, agree with even the very harshest of measures that the state has used to keep the Bajorans under Cardassian domination?" Odo probed.

"If we need duranium ore mined and processed, and we have to use punishments to see that Bajoran workers do the mining and processing, I think that's justifiable."

Odo handed him the holoimages of Tam.  "Do you think it's justifiable for a Cardassian to do something like this to a Bajoran?"

Selemet's whole body tensed.  He pounded one fist upon Odo's desk.  "Prophets! anyone who  would ever do something like this to anyone else ought to be locked away for the rest of his natural life."

"Do you frequently invoke the Bajorans' Prophets, Glinn Selemet?" Odo inquired, hiding his amusement. The Cardassian virtually cowered in his chair, obviously expecting some severe sanction to befall him for his slip of the tongue.

No need to keep him in suspense, the Constable thought.  Odo tried to look as congenial as possible.  "Please don't be frightened. I'm not here to accuse you of disloyalty to the state, Selemet."

"Why else would the Prefect command you to interrogate me?"

"This is not an interrogation.  I'm looking for a way to control the degenerate who disfigured this woman and several others. I wanted to have a talk with you in reference to the matter, and asking the Prefect to order it was the only way I knew to assure you would consent.  If you can, try to forget about listening devices and just tell me honestly about your relationships with the Bajorans.  For instance, what's it like for a Cardassian to be born on Bajor?"

"Surely it's all in my files."

"I'd like to hear your version," Odo said patiently. "We'll consider whatever you say to me as completely off the record."

"There's no such concept as 'off the record' for Cardassians. How can you work for us and not know that?"

The shape-shifter fixed the young man with his intense blue eyes.  "Be truthful with me, Glinn Selemet, and I promise you'll come to no harm."

The young man stared back just as intently, trying to take the measure of his interlocutor.  Finally he replied, "Well, they do say that you wield some kind of strange alien powers over the Prefect.  All right, I'll risk it; here's the story." Odo laughed to himself.  Sometimes those ridiculous myths about the mysterious shape-shifter did make police work easier. He'd also noticed that, because he was different from everyone else, people tended to tell him things they would normally have concealed from anyone else.

The Cardassian clasped his hands together in his lap and began, still obviously wary. "Father was stationed on Bajor, administering one of the provincial governments for Central Command, as he continues to do.  He'd just joined with my mother. They couldn't bear to be parted, or so he says, and she moved to Bajor with him. I came along within a year.  Then, when I was just seven months old,  Mother caught herbora fever.  They hadn't developed the vaccine yet, and she died within three days."

"I'm sorry."

Selemet gave a sad smile.  "I don't remember her, of course, but Father naturally took it very hard.  There were scarcely any Cardassian women on Bajor at the time who weren't married to officers in the various Orders, certainly none that would have come into our house as a servant. Still, Father desperately needed someone to take care of me.  He went to one of the refugee camps and asked the man in charge to bring to him all the women who had no husbands but one or more small children.  To the seventeen mothers the collaborator assembled, Father made a proposal.  Any one of them who was willing to come with her children to live in his house and become his son's nursemaid would receive ample rations and comfortable living accommodations as long as I thrived.  Should anything happen to me for any reason, however, he would kill her and her children."

"It wasn't a very tempting offer, was it?" Odo mused.

"A bit better than it sounds, considering that every year three out of four inhabitants of that particular camp died. Musila doesn't have any valuable mineral deposits, and it's too rocky for farm land; the major assets of the region seem to be the monastery schools and the libraries. As you can imagine, that hardly put the province very high on Central Command's list for receiving 'resources for support of indigenous populations,' so the Bajorans were in a constant state of near starvation, " the Cardassian explained.  "Nevertheless, only one woman accepted Father's offer.  Her name was Brata Colora.  She had one son, Fernel, who was three days older than I was.  They had selected her husband for random execution four months before.  Father brought her to our house, and she was my foster mother for eight years.

"Now, there was no reason for her to think of me as anything more than a meal ticket and a life insurance policy.  I mean, she had a vested interest in my good health, but beyond that you'd imagine that she would have resented the hell out of me.  Especially because, there being no other women around, she ended up having . . . duties . . . to Father."

"You don't approve of that arrangement?"

"I understand why it happened, why it continues to happen with so many Cardassians here," Selemet responded cautiously. "It's just not behavior I would personally engage in.  When you take everything from a people, at least you can leave them their self-respect."

"So you were raised by a woman who secretly hated you?"

"Oh, no.  What I was starting to say was that, despite everything Cardassians had done to her, Brata always treated me as if I were her own." Finally Selemet was beginning to speak from his heart, abandoning caution.  "She was a wonderful woman, so warm and loving. She was a gifted sculptor, in both clay and metal.  The Bajorans have such a long and distinguished history as artists, did you know that? It's a joke that we have Art Institutes on Cardassia. Our  works are so pedestrian by comparison. She taught Fernel and me how to make clay pots.  I wasn't ever very good at it, but Brata always kept encouraging me.  She taught me all about the Prophets, too, although I was under strict orders not to mention them to Father.

"Fernel was like my brother.  He was every bit as smart and strong and honorable as the Cardassian boys.  Anyway, thanks to him and his mother,  I've always known that the Bajorans aren't in any way a lesser species than we are.  And that's why I've never been able to stomach the unwarranted brutality against Bajorans that so many serving in the Occupation think is a kind of sport."

"You said that Brata only raised you for eight years," Odo queried.  "What happened after that?"

Selemet's face clouded.  "I think Father had been concerned for some time that I had grown too close to her and her son.  He had worries about my 'hankering after an earring,' as they say.  So the day that I showed up for dinner actually wearing the Bajoran clan earring that Brata had made for me after weeks of my pleading and badgering, everything came to a head.  Father ripped the earring off, nearly taking my ear with it; lectured me about the racial inferiority of Bajorans for an hour; gave me 50 strokes with a behavior stick; and confined me to my room without food, water, or visitors for two days.  When he let me out, he gave me three hours to pack my things and board the transport for the homeworld where I'd stay at a residential school and 'learn what it means to be a true Cardassian.'  I begged him to let me say good-bye to Brata and Fernel, but he announced that they weren't in the house anymore, and I should forget that I'd ever known either one of them."

It surprised Odo that, having been so severely punished for his good opinions about Bajorans at such a young age, the little engineer still held onto them so strongly as to risk incurring the wrath of the Cardassian state all over again. With some guilt, the Constable pondered whether he could indeed protect the boy from the consequences of this completely unguarded confession, as he had promised.  "Did you ever see Brata and Fernel again?" he asked.

"No," the Glinn's voice caught.  "Father swears that they're safe and well provided for, somewhere on Bajor, and will be as long as they never make any contact with me whatsoever.  Since I've been stationed on Terok Nor, I've thought of trying to find them, but it would be awfully selfish to endanger them to indulge my own desires.  There's not a day I don't miss them, though."

The shape-shifter knew then, with absolute certainty, that this sweet-souled young man would do everything in his power to prevent Telessian from inflicting any more harm.  "Glinn Selemet, I need a Cardassian to stop the maniac that's abusing Bajoran women on this station," Odo told him. "I don't think I'll find anyone more dedicated to the task.  I'll assign a security trooper to back you up, but it won't be easy.  You won't be allowed to use deadly force--"

"That's just as well.  I flunked weaponry class."

"--and the man you'll be trailing has powerful political connections."

"So, it is Telessian," the Cardassian said.  To Odo's quizzical look, he added.  "There've been rumors about him for months.  I believe he's quite insane."

"Will you work with me to protect any further victims from him, then?  I know it's not exactly an assignment for an engineer."

Glinn Selemet rose and gave the Second Order salute. "Security Chief, upon the memory of my foster mother and brother, and the honor of my race, I tell you that no 'true Cardassian' could ever refuse such an assignment.  Just tell me what to do, and clear my absence with my corps supervisor Gul Gelet," he  proclaimed proudly.

As Odo started going into the details with the eager young man, he realized that he was in the company of a very rare subspecies, a Cardassian idealist.   Before he sent him out to keep tabs on Telessian, he'd have to introduce Selemet to Bram.  Otherwise the Bajoran would never believe Odo's account of this conversation.

***

By the time Odo got there, summoned by the urgent security alert of trooper Kemak, it was all over.  There was little he could do but absorb the sad details of the scene. Inside one of the worker dormitories, in the center of the floor, Glinn Selemet lay face up, eyes frozen in astonishment, with a hole in his chest where his heart should have been.  In the far corner of the building, a young Bajoran woman huddled, shaking, pulling her torn dress up around her, staring vacantly out of blackened eyes, still too much in shock to cry.  In another corner, at the opposite end of the building, a Cardassian with his wrists handcuffed behind his back struggled and kicked in the grip of four security troopers and unleashed a torrent of such specialized Kardasi obscenities that Odo only recognized half of them.  Seeing Odo, Kemak, one of the troopers restraining the man, disengaged himself and came forward.  His face, scarred many times in a 20-year career with Cardassian security, was ashen.  "Forgive me, Security Chief, please forgive me, and intercede for me with the Prefect.  It all escalated so fast, but still I should have been better prepared.  The boy was such an innocent, he didn't see the danger, but I should have."

"Calm down, Kemak," Odo commanded grimly.  "Tell me step by step what happened."

The trooper took several deep breaths.  "We'd been following Telessian all day.  At 2340 he went to his barracks; we assumed he was going to sleep. The Glinn and I took turns keeping watch, but he dozed off on his, only for a few minutes, yet apparently enough time for Telessian to leave without being detected.  One of the fence patrols notified us that he'd been spotted on the prowl in the Bajoran sector.  The Glinn was furious with himself, and we took off immediately to look for that piece of filth.  We finally found him here, using that young woman for manual combat practice.  Selemet ordered him to let her go; he just laughed and said we could either stay to watch or get out of his way.  Before I knew it the Glinn had leaped on him, fists flying every which way, asking him if he enjoyed being beaten up.  Telessian tossed him off pretty easily, and when the boy picked himself up and charged again, Telessian pulled out his disruptor and blasted clean through him.  I'd sounded a general alarm the minute we located our target, and the rest of these troopers and I detained him immediately.  I'm so very sorry, Security Chief, about our valiant little engineer.  He was a credit to the state, for all his soft-headed ideas."

A mixture of grief, admiration, and guilt overwhelmed Odo.  This had after all been his plan the boy had died carrying out, despite the shape-shifter's pledge to keep him from harm.  He repressed his swelling emotions and walked over to the prisoner. For such a monster, Ka'ren Telessian looked deceptively ordinary, the usual arrangement of bone-ridges and scales, black hair, average Cardassian height and build .  Only one feature stood out: his eyes, which were an atypical shade of golden brown, showed deformed pupils that had an elongated oval shape.  It was almost as if, through these eyes, the long dormant reptilian forebears of his species were looking out of the murky swamps of the evolutionary past. Telessian stopped struggling as Odo approached. "Finally, someone of authority," he shouted.  "Get these moronic foot soldiers to take their dirty hands and their confounded irons off me."

"You just killed a fellow officer.  You're under arrest," Odo said, determined not to lose his temper in front of his men.

"It was self-defense, I tell you.  The contemptible little ridge-slutbitch-whore-lover flew at me like a madman.  What was I supposed to do?"

"He was unarmed.  You shot him in cold blood with a disruptor set on kill."

Telessian's mouth formed into a smirk of insane condescension.  "I had deduced that fists weren't going to stop him."

Odo turned his back in disgust.  "Take him away," he said.  As the three troopers dragged their prisoner with difficulty through the door, Telessian screamed viciously.  "How dare you, you revolting blob of goo.  Just wait till Dukat finds out about this . . . wait till my FATHER finds out.  You'll see how well your kind adapt to being shoved out an airlock!"

Odo knelt beside Selemet's body.  He closed the eyes which to the last hadn't believed that even a man of Telessian's depraved nature would kill a fellow Cardassian; he  folded the hands to cover the gaping wound in the chest. "Kemak, see to it that the body is prepared with all reverence for his father to take home to Bajor and bury.  Notify Gul Dukat immediately of what's taken place.  I'm sure he'll want to contact Governor Selemet himself."

"Yes, Security Chief," Kemak replied and headed off to fulfill his superior's commands.

Odo then quietly approached the young Bajoran woman, wrapping her in a blanket from one of the beds.  "Come, we're going to take good care of you now," he said soothingly. He lifted her gently to her feet and guided her patiently, one step at a time, to the door of the newly upgraded Bajoran clinic.

***

Telessian had been in the holding cell for two days, and it seemed as if  he hadn't let one second go by without shouting curses and inveighing against "ridge-loving" Cardassians and gelatinous alien freaks.  Odo was trying to close off his hearing without much success when Dukat entered Security, followed by another Cardassian, a civilian and stranger to Terok Nor who wore the brightest colors Odo had yet encountered on a member of his species.

Dukat cocked his head in the direction to Telessian's tirade.  "What an infernal racket!  You'll be delighted I'm sure that he won't be in your charge any longer."

"How can that be, Prefect?  No sentence has yet been pronounced or tribunal convened."

"That will all take place on Cardassia Prime.  This man has come to escort Telessian home."

"Dukat, don't be so rude," the other Cardassian broke in.  "Surely introductions are in order.  You, my good fellow, are, of course, Odo, the Prefect's pet shape-shifter.  I'm Garak . . . of the Obsidian Order."  He extended his hand.  Odo did not take it.

Dukat ignored Garak also, save for a decidedly venomous look cast in his direction.  "Just go fetch the prisoner, Odo."

"With all due respect, Prefect, Telessian broke the laws of this station.  He should be tried and punished here," Odo insisted.

"Don't argue with me, shape-shifter." Dukat's voice was threatening. "The decision has already  been made, and Garak here is on a tight schedule.  Now bring Telessian out immediately."

Odo got to his feet and folded his arms across his chest.  "No, not until you've given me a chance to discuss the matter with you," he said stubbornly.

"My schedule's not as tight as all that," Garak chimed in jovially, apparently taking great delight in seeing Dukat challenged by his subordinate.  "Perhaps you two should take some time to get on the same tractor beam."

Barely holding his temper in check, Dukat responded, "We will have things straightened out very quickly, I'm sure.  In the meantime, you're welcome to go to the Ferengi's bar and order whatever you please.  Charge it to my personal account."

"Always the gracious host," Garak returned with a mocking inflection.  "You'll know where to find me, then, when you've used your famous powers of persuasion on the security chief here."

As soon as Garak had gone, the Prefect spoke into the general direction of the ceiling.  "This is station commander Dukat, voice authorization code D75-AO4; override surveillance controls and end monitoring of this location."

"So that's how to do it," Odo observed sarcastically. "I had come to the conclusion that Cardassian surveillance equipment had no 'off' switches."

"Now implement sonic dampening field," the Prefect continued.  Instantly the noise of Telessian's harangue vanished in mid-word.  Odo wondered if Dukat had afforded Cardassian security chiefs this luxury of screening out the incessant din from the holding cells, a luxury that Dukat had denied him.

These precautions taken, the Prefect planted himself in the chair opposite Odo's.  "Listen, I realize how this looks to you, like Telessian is going to be brought home to Daddy and suffer no consequences for his crime.  That's not the case at all.  Garak," he pronounced the name with biting contempt, "is the protégé of Enabran Tain, Telessian senior's chief rival within the Order.  If he's sent Garak to take the son back to Cardassia, you can rest assured that he'll never get there.  Some 'unfortunate accident' is bound to occur.  I don't know whether the Order's decided to purge Zolmetan in order to mollify Governor Selemet's friends in Central Command, or whether Zolmetan's agreed to sacrifice Ka'ren to save his career." After pondering the question for a few seconds, he added with some bitterness, "No doubt the latter; we Cardassians love our families, but we're taught to turn against them in a heartbeat if they commit actions that threaten the state."

"I don't care about the politics of the situation, Prefect," Odo countered earnestly.  "All I know is that Telessian violated the laws of this station, and we should treat him just like anyone else who does so.  I've resigned myself to the inequities of the Uniform Code, but I have prided myself on at least enforcing it impartially."

"The Uniform Code doesn't apply here," Dukat responded, shaking his head.  "Those edicts are for Bajorans."

"Section 2, subsection 5a of the Uniform Code says simply that anyone who kills or attempts to kill a Cardassian on Terok Nor must be sentenced to death by rifle fire.  It does not specify the species of the assailant.  You executed, in public, on the Promenade, the three Bajorans convicted of the attempt on your life--" Odo restrained himself from adding "and they weren't even guilty"-- "and I see no reason why the murderer of Glinn Selemet should not receive precisely the same treatment."

Dukat stared at him incredulously.  "Clearly the injury to your deputy and the unfortunate loss of the young officer who was working for you has clouded your thinking, Odo.  I've tried to explain things to you reasonably, but I'm not going to tolerate this defiance any longer.  I'll call one of my own guards and have him take Telessian directly to the transport.  If you don't like it, you can walk out now and then complain to your Bajoran friends that I did it over your protests."

"If I leave, I won't come back."

"What?"

"If you take Telessian out of my jurisdiction, I will resign as chief of security on Terok Nor." Odo hadn't thought of handing the Prefect such an ultimatum until he had done it, but now every instinct told him that he could no longer perform his job adequately if he lost this battle.

Dukat's voice rose several decibels.  "You serve as security chief at my pleasure.  Only I can dismiss you, and I don't choose to."

"I hadn't realized that I, too, was merely one of the slave laborers here," Odo said with deadly calm.

"Well, now you know."

"All the same, I'm resigning," Odo replied, taking a step toward the door.

Dukat, close to erupting,  rose and positioned himself in front of Odo, glowering. "I'll have you sent back to the lab, a proper lab on Cardassia Prime, where they aren't squeamish about what they do with live specimens."

A shiver ran through Odo, and he stopped dead in mid-stride.  He wasn't afraid of many things, but what Dukat had threatened had always been the one terror that haunted him. However, immediately a thought occurred to him that he hadn't ever quite articulated to himself before, something that the secret Dukat dossier in his head told him.  "You could do that, but you won't, Prefect."

"How dare you talk to me with such impudence, you impotent bucket of slime," Dukat shouted.  He grabbed Odo's shoulder with one hand and, drawing back his other arm, planted his fist squarely on the shape-shifter's jaw.  Except it didn't remain a jaw.  With a resounding "thwack" the blow penetrated about five centimeters into the now gelatinous substance and lodged there.  Fighting against the suction that held his fist in place within the smooth, cool, but undulating mass that was the real Odo,  Dukat eventually pulled it free, prompting a quite undignified "blurp" as it came loose.

Odo, standing totally immobile from the instant the blow landed, his amber mass rippling back into the facade he showed to the world, was still adamant about resigning.   Dukat, his mouth hanging open as he absently rubbed his fist as if to make sure that no stray Odo-bits clung to it, was still furious at his subordinate's challenge to his authority.  Yet that "thwack-blurp" had been awfully funny. The Prefect  pressed his lips together to stifle his rising laughter.  This strategy failing, he walked over to the door, leaned on it with his forearm, and buried his face against it to muffle the sound, if not the visible convulsions, of his amusement.  After several seconds, he regained control and turned around to face the shape-shifter, who had remained as unmoving and unsmiling as he had been when the Prefect struck him.  Dukat himself still continued to lean against the door, a gesture whose symbolism was not lost on Odo.

"So, just how ridiculous did I look when my hand got stuck in your face, shape-shifter?" the Cardassian inquired with wry self-deprecation.

"You merely displayed understandable surprise," Odo responded in measured tones.  "Despite calling me a bucket of slime--" Odo omitted the deeply wounding adjective "--you apparently considered me a person like yourself, with flesh to bruise and bones to break.  Perhaps I should take your action as a compliment."

"He defies me with inexcusable insolence, and then he tries to spare my feelings!  Obviously I do still have much to learn about your nature, Odo."

"As do I, Prefect."

Dukat folded his arms against his chest, matching his security chief's habitual posture.  "What makes you think I won't send you to a lab if you continue in your intransigence?  The record shows that many men who have opposed my will never lived to see another day."

"I didn't say that you wouldn't kill me, Prefect, only that you wouldn't condemn me to a slow and painful death.  You see, I  have checked the record, very thoroughly.  During your Prefecture the rate of premature death for Cardassia's Bajoran subjects has declined about 5%, but that figure is deceptive.  Executions, both random and targeted, have in fact risen 35%, while deaths from starvation and disease, in the labor and refugee camps, have declined 40%.  From these facts I have concluded that you react swiftly to disloyalty and disobedience, eager to have your opponents dead and buried, out of sight, out of mind.   The spectre of opponents alive and suffering, cursing your name, that's something different to you, however, isn't it?"

"This is pure, unfounded speculation," Dukat snorted, flushing.

"Glinn Bragelia once told me that Thrax always complained because you wouldn't authorize him to install effective interrogation equipment on Terok Nor.  That decision fits this pattern as well."

"Only that imbecile Thrax would believe that one needed a full array of instruments of torture to deal with cases of workers calling Cardassians "spoon-head" or weak-willed Bajorans stealing chemicals. On the rare occasions when culprits requiring more thorough questioning ended up in custody on Terok Nor, I simply had them sent planetside to one of the very well-equipped interrogation facilities there.  Hardly an indication that causing suffering to the recalcitrant disturbs me."

"I make no pretense to a complete understanding of humanoid motivations, so my reasoning may indeed be flawed.  You simply inquired what that  reasoning had been, and I've  told you."  Odo regarded the Cardassian steadily.  "Let me make myself completely clear, Prefect.  Whatever the consequences, I will not continue to serve as your security chief if you send Telessian off with Mr. Garak."   Your move, Prefect, he thought to himself with some trepidation.

"You're out of your mind, you know, suggesting a public execution here.  I'd lose the respect of every Cardassian on this station."

"Perhaps not," Odo countered, emboldened by the still likely possibility that he would die for this defiance. "Despite his radical views concerning Bajorans, Glinn Selemet seems to have earned considerable admiration from his peers.  Why would they fail to respect someone who insisted that his killer be tried and punished according to Cardassian law, rather than being disposed of dishonorably? I think that it would serve justice well if that animal paid for his crimes in front of everyone on Terok Nor."

Dukat fell silent for a long time.  Then he shook his head and advanced several paces toward Odo.  "You'll have your work cut out for you maintaining my personal security from now on, you realize.  It's not very healthy to get on the wrong side of the Obsidian Order."

Odo felt a shock of disbelief, combined with a flush of triumph.  He had won.  For some inexplicable reason, one that found no elucidation in the Dukat dossier, the Prefect didn't want to lose him as his security chief, and he was going to yield to him on this matter in order to keep him on the job. Odo was careful not to gloat. "It has been my observation that you are already on Mr. Garak's wrong side.  And he on yours."

Dukat's mouth formed a small smile, although his features remained tight with anger.  He always hated to lose. "Your powers of observation do not deceive you, shape-shifter. However, that's a very long story that I do not intend to share with you.  I do suppose that the only small consolation I'll have for acceding to your outrageous blackmail in this case is the opportunity to annoy that smug, supercilious bastard, Garak."

***

Garak, however, didn't appear to be annoyed one whit.  He had insisted on staying to witness the execution but made no other protest that Odo was aware of.  Dukat had arranged for Telessian's punishment to occur at a time of minimum visibility, in the middle of the station's designated night, when two lots of workers were exchanging shifts and everyone else was asleep.  Odo had persuaded the Prefect to permit ten Bajoran witnesses, and he had offered the slots to the family members of the man's victims and of the three Bajorans executed for the bombing, but only the father of one of the assaulted women, and the brother of one of the innocent men had shown up.

Telessian had made a sorry spectacle of himself, at first cursing viciously, then struggling so violently that they had to bind him to one of the railings, and finally sobbing uncontrollably and pleading for mercy as they put the rifle to his head.  Dukat motioned the execution detail to remove the body instantly, following them to direct the preparation of the remains for transport back to Cardassia.

Odo had turned to leave as well when he felt a hand on his shoulder.  It belonged to the Obsidian Order assassin.  "Well, that creature certainly proved himself an all-round disgrace to Cardassia!" Garak clucked.  "Good riddance, I say, whoever does the killing.  You know, it's the rare individual who can make that arrogant jackox Dukat see reason.  I'm most impressed with the way you dealt with such a delicate situation, Constable."

Odo gave a snort of surprise. "That is what they call you, isn't it?" Garak queried.

"Some people.  Not Cardassians," Odo muttered in response.

"Ah, sorry if I've given offense.  Rather a charming soubriquet, I thought, far more flattering than Odo . . . ital."  The Cardassian moved a step closer and lowered his voice.  "You know, I have some little influence on the homeworld.  If you were ever interested in a career change--"

"I'm quite content here on Terok Nor, thank you."

Garak's eyes surveyed the dim, cluttered station environs with disapproval.  He shook his head, then shrugged his shoulders.  "I suppose there's no accounting for taste. Well, then, I'll be off.  It was a great pleasure making your acquaintance."

Garak had proceeded about five meters down the Promenade when Dukat returned from the opposite direction.  "What was he talking to you about, shape-shifter?"

"I think he was trying to recruit me into the Obsidian Order.  I told him I wasn't interested."

Dukat didn't reply, just stared at the departing Garak with the same expression of unadulterated hatred in his eyes that Odo had seen in Bram's when the Bajoran told him he was going to kill Tam's assailant.  "Someday I'd like to hear that long story," the Constable thought. 

Once Garak had rounded the corner and disappeared from view, the Prefect redirected his attention to Odo. "Telessian's body is safely bestowed in cryo-stasis and on its way to his father, so this pathetic business is over and done with.  I hope you're satisfied with yourself, security chief."  Dukat practically spat out the words.

Odo, arms folded across his chest, permitted himself the slightest smile.  "As a matter of fact, Prefect, I am."

***

Directly after taking leave of his superior, Odo went to his bucket to regenerate.  Re-forming eight hours later, he returned to his desk and began going over the week's crime reports, preparing for what promised to be a tense session with Dukat at their regularly scheduled meeting that afternoon.  He had only been working a short time when the Prefect himself entered the Security Office.  Saying nothing, he gestured behind him, directing Odo's gaze to the sight of Bram, shackled as he had been when he first arrived on the station, and attended by the same Cardassian guard.

Odo looked from Dukat to Bram and back again, his face a silent question.  The Cardassian was quick to answer it.  "Good news, Odo.  Our security forces in Musila Province have at long last apprehended the people behind the terrorist bombings, so you won't be needing Mr. Bram's information on the case any longer.  I'm having him sent back to the mines to resume his sentence.  I'll give you a few minutes to make your farewells."  With an air of exaggerated casualness, Dukat motioned to the guard to join him outside the door.

Odo felt nearly paralyzed by this dreadful turn of events.  "Nachas, I'm so, so sorry," he stammered out, barely able to look his friend in the face.

"It's all right, Odo," Bram replied in his usual unruffled manner. "Forcing Dukat to shoot Telessian right there on the Promenade, you knew there had to be a price."

"But why should you be the one who has to pay it?"

"If you hadn't gone out on a limb in this case, you'd have had to send me back to the mines yourself to keep me away from him, or else let me kill the bastard and face the firing squad in his place.  Don't worry, I know how to survive down in the hole.  Do me a favor, though, and try to get Tam out of here, like I asked you to."

"Of course. I'll do everything in my power to send her back home." Odo attempted a wan smile.  "I'm not certain I can keep Terok Nor secure without you."

"Sure you can," Bram smiled back encouragingly.  "A year ago you were just a little green and overwhelmed by it all.  Now the people trust you, they know you'll fight for justice.  I imagine even the Prefect sleeps better knowing you're here."

As if on cue, Dukat and the guard re-entered.  The guard roughly shoved Bram forward and out into the corridor.

"Take care of yourself until the spring thaw!" Odo called out to the receding figure. He saw Bram turn to reply, only to have the guard strike him viciously across the jaw with the rifle butt.  Odo winced.

"The spring thaw?" Dukat inquired, ignoring the brutal act they had both just witnessed,  "It's high summer on Bajor."

"A little private joke of ours--from before you were monitoring our conversations."  Odo's voice dripped with scorn.  "You know, of course, that the bombers have been in custody since  the spring thaw."

"It's scandalous how one falls behind with paperwork.  I only got around to signing the transfer order this morning."  Dukat, his expression bland, seemed intent on maintaining the pretense of this having nothing to do with their ferocious argument over the execution.

Odo got to his feet  and confronted him angrily.  "It's me you're mad at, Prefect.  Why punish Bram?"

Dukat feigned incredulity.  "I'm not punishing anyone, Odo.  We simply had no more reason to detain Mr. Bram on the station, so he's going back to serve out the sentence that he earned for himself  all those years ago."  Pulling something from one of the pockets of his uniform, he added, "We found this contraband in his quarters."  He tossed a wadded up piece of cloth onto the desk.  Odo recognized it by its colors as the tunic Bram had purchased during the Afternoon on the Promenade. "I though perhaps you might want to keep it as a memento of your friend."  For the first time, Dukat let the malice in his heart leak into his voice.

A helpless rage overwhelmed Odo, one he had not felt since he was powerless to say or sign "stop, it hurts" in those early days of Dr. Mora's excruciating experiments.  He wondered what the effect of forming his fist at maximum density and landing it against Dukat's jaw would be--something far less laughable than the "thwack-blurp" of the Cardassian's punching him in the face, at any rate.  The rage must have shown itself in his eyes, because the Prefect stepped back and tensed defensively, even while his expression revealed a genuine curiosity about whether Odo would actually dare to take a swing at him.

The moment of anger passed quickly, however.  How much disorder, how many  wrecked lives, had Odo seen that originated in humanoids' desire for meaningless, fleeting revenge against those who had wronged them. Disorder ran counter to his nature.  He stepped back as well, picked up the tunic, and began to straighten it out.  As he smoothed the many wrinkles, he said softly, as if to himself,  "Yes, this was Bram's silly extravagance during the Bajorans' holiday."  He looked up at Dukat.  "I'm sure we won't be scheduling any others, will we, Prefect?"

"No," the Cardassian said curtly. "I'm glad we understand each other, shape-shifter."

Odo continued to work with the garment, eventually folding it into a neat square, while he and Dukat stared at one another in silence.  Yes, they understood each other.  He had coerced Dukat into an action that had profoundly humiliated the Prefect.  Dukat had retaliated by once more isolating him from the Bajorans on the station.  One of those unholy bargains Odo was supposed to know how to sidestep, but hadn't.

Yet Dukat still valued his work as Chief of Security, wanted to believe that this conflict had not made it impossible for him to trust Odo to continue in that position.  Odo blinked first in the staring contest and gave a little nod.  He would do his job as before, without scheming his superior's ruin, although he'd be damned if he'd put up with any more of those self-justifying Dukatian monologues during his off-duty hours.

Dukat's posture relaxed.  "Well, I'll let you get back to work, Odo.  The security briefing's today at 1530 hours in my office, as usual?"

"As usual," Odo growled.  Dukat nodded in return, acknowledging that it would be strictly business between them for a long time to come.

As the doors closed behind the Prefect, Odo opened one of the lower drawers of his desk.  A veteran trooper had told him that was where two of his predecessors had stored their kanar and glasses.  Odo had left the drawer empty, but now he carefully deposited Bram's tunic in it, making sure not to initiate any further wrinkles.  Perhaps he could return it to his friend someday, although he couldn't at the moment imagine how.

He tried to get back to preparing the crime reports, but he couldn't concentrate. Half a day ago he had thought that he had finally brought justice to Terok Nor.  Now justice seemed as elusive as ever.  True, Telessian wouldn't terrorize and violate any more women, but Odo could have achieved that necessary goal by letting the charmingly sinister Mr. Garak take care of the matter. Then Bram would likely still be serving as his chief deputy. Was it a thirst for justice that had made him insist on having the rapist tried and executed in his jurisdiction, or something else?  Pride perhaps, or a desire to prove to Bram, and the other Bajorans, and most of all himself, that he wasn't simply Dukat's lackey?  He'd seen such desires drive other men, but he still couldn't quite disentangle his own self-serving emotions from what seemed to be pure, objective instincts.  If only he understood his own nature better, could compare himself to others of his kind, rather than to these humanoids he imperfectly imitated but with whom he really had so little in common.

With a conscious effort of will, he reined these thoughts in sharply.  His people, whoever or whatever they might be, were just as out of reach as justice was.  No use wasting time lamenting the absence of either.  He turned his eyes to the PADD before him: "1947 Seconday, scuffle between two Bajoran males, ages 21 and 28, in front of chemist's shop, lower level. Sentence: one year hard labor for each; 0430 Thirday, Cardassian male, 26, fatally shot other Cardassian male, 23, in Bajoran workers' quarters. Sentence: death by rifle fire; 0821 Thirday .  . . ."

--end--