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Sharper than a Serpent's Tooth

By Cardie-ologist

Cardassians, shouting on the Promenade: "They've gone beyond all decency now!" "They're nothing but savages, predatory beasts!" "We should have exterminated every single ridge‑nose on the planet!"

Bajorans, whispering at the fences: "Praise the Prophets, this is something those spoon‑heads will finally understand." "I know, but still . . . killing children?" "They'll grow up soon enough‑‑we'll exterminate every Cardie on Bajor if we have to."

Odo finally freed himself from the chaos and made his way back to the Security Office. He double‑checked the emergency procedures that an enraged Dukat had commanded him to implement before departing for Cardassia Prime to meet with all the highest officials in Central Command regarding the crisis: halting all ship traffic to or from Bajor immediately; confining all Bajorans currently on the station behind the fences in the Bajoran section; tripling the number of Cardassian security personnel assigned to patrol Terok Nor. All these measures had naturally infuriated the station's Bajoran population, and Odo's personal appeal for calm had been drowned out by cries of protest from all and of jubilation by some at the daringly successful gambit the Resistance had just brought off. Odo warned the Cardassian guards to restrain their own anger in dealing with the situation. He feared that even the slightest incident might spark full‑scale rioting.

Now, as he had regained some much needed solitude, Odo wrestled with all the implications of the day's events. The harbingers of disaster had begun surfacing several months before. The Cardassians had forcibly removed every single one of the inhabitants of the sparsely populated southernmost Bajoran province of Chevra to refugee camps hundreds of kilometers distant. Then they had brought in a community of over 1000 pioneers from Cardassia who were to establish an agricultural colony there. This move raised the stakes for both sides considerably. Up till that time, the relatively few civilian Cardassians on Bajor consisted of dependents of the military personnel stationed there and members of their support staffs or household servants, although increasingly they employed Bajorans in the latter menial capacities. Establishing entire civilian communities on Bajoran land, however, switched the situation from a military Occupation to an outright annexation of Bajor as a Cardassian colony.

The Resistance reacted as anticipated. Guerrilla raids and bombings slowed construction of the settlement considerably, but eventually Dukat deployed sufficient military detachments to get the project completed and the colonists moved in without incident. For three weeks, as the colonists established themselves, no Resistance activity occurred in the area at all. Then, today, the Resistance had made its move. At 10:30 hours, provincial time, three massively powerful explosive devices had gone off inside the settlement's schoolhouse. Not one of the 173 students and seven teachers inside had survived the blast. Untraceable comm signals had simultaneously gone out to every Cardassian receiver on the planet announcing that the bombing had been carried out by the Saren cell, whose leader, Saren Kifor, vowed that he would exterminate every Cardassian child on Bajor rather than permit wholesale colonization of the planet.

Odo considered grimly that Saren had chosen a particularly appropriate target. There were few things Cardassians treasured more than their children. The emotions he had seen play across Dukat's face‑‑total shock, then stunned grief, then bloodthirsty outrage‑‑were doubtless being felt throughout the entire army of occupation and on every planet in the Cardassian system. However, even Bajorans, he imagined, had, as he had, mixed feelings. Granted that there was a desperate need to forestall colonization efforts, and that this atrocity might just be horrifically effective enough to do so, it was still hard to write off the slaughter of innocent children as a necessary consequence of revolutionary politics. Kai

Opaka, in a move criticized by some, had extended her sympathies to the parents of the slain students, although she had stopped short of condemning the Saren for the deed.

Odo knew that the Cardassians would not rest until they had found and exterminated every member of the Saren and that the deaths of any they managed to capture alive would be very slow and inconceivably painful. "Would I turn them over to Dukat if I happened to have them in custody and knew for certain they'd been involved?" Odo asked himself. He realized that he wasn't at all sure of the answer. Fortunately, Chevra Province was a long way from Terok Nor, and this wasn't going to be his case. They'd doubtless bring in half the Obsidian Order for such a high profile investigation as this one.

***

Three days later Dukat returned from Cardassia grim‑faced and determined. His usual loquaciousness and forced charm were nowhere in evidence. He gathered the whole security staff together and curtly outlined for them the measures that Central Command had determined must be taken to resolve the crisis, and the part that those stationed on Terok Nor were to play in the larger scheme of things. A state of emergency was in effect until further notice. The most stringent level of martial law was to be enforced both on Bajor and on the station. A strict curfew for Bajorans would extend from sundown to sun up. Cardassian soldiers would shoot on sight anyone found outside their homes during daylight hours without a valid identification card. They would search every single home and camp in every province within 1000 kilometers of the bombing. They would detain and interrogate everyone known to have even the most tenuous connection to the Saren. And Central Command had issued an ultimatum to the people of Bajor. If they did not cooperate sufficiently to insure that all parties responsible for the atrocity were in Cardassian hands within a month, 173 randomly selected Bajoran children would die in the terrorists' place.

As for life on Terok Nor, no Bajorans currently in residence would leave until all the culprits had paid for their crime, just as none dwelling planetside would receive permission to depart. Furthermore, the ghetto fences were to remain closed until that time as well. This promised a restive, frustrated, and resentful native populace who would require an iron hand if order were to be maintained. Dukat took no questions from anyone and summarily dismissed them to "do your duty to your utmost during this most trying time." Odo left feeling profoundly dispirited.

During the first week after the incident, the three extra divisions of Cardassian security troops, under the direction of twenty‑five information specialists from the Obsidian Order, managed to apprehend three members of the Saren cell. The three insisted that Saren had kept them in the dark about the bombing but provided some useful information about Saren himself. He was a second‑generation terrorist, born of Resistance member parents he never named in a cave in an unknown province. He had grown up fighting and running, and the Cardassians had never managed to issue him an ID card or take a DNA sample. No holo‑images or optical scans of him existed. His cell had broken off from his parents'; it was quite small‑‑fewer than a dozen members at any one time‑‑and committed to whatever violent action was necessary to drive the Cardassians from Bajor. All this information the captured Resistance fighters surrendered under Obsidian Order torture. As for their giving even the slightest hint where Saren was hiding, or what he looked like, however, even the most severe measures proved ineffective. All three prisoners had died in the interrogation room without ever betraying their leader. Two weeks after the incident, all that identified Saren was the sound of his exultant voice in a series of taunting audio‑only broadcasts that still remained untraceable. As the deadline for the execution of the Bajoran children neared, Kai Opaka, in another controversial move, pleaded with Saren to turn himself in in order to end the reign of terror on the planet and spare his people this grievous loss. He answered with another broadcast claiming that all losses, Bajoran or Cardassian, would have to be tolerated until Bajor was free again.

***

Ten days prior to the deadline, Odo strolled into Quark's as part of his  daily patrol of the Promenade. Under the state of emergency, he rarely encountered anyone besides security forces on their own patrols, but he felt it necessary to stick to his routine. At least these nearly solitary walks made a welcome contrast to his surveillance of the teeming Bajoran sector where people either turned away from him or glared at him with sullen defiance. He still smarted from watching the children who used to follow behind him on his rounds being pulled back and scolded by their parents if they moved to greet him.

Quark's was nearly as deserted as the rest of the Promenade. Only a very few Cardassians sat drinking at the tables, and the dabo wheels were dark and silent. The Ferengi was leaning disconsolately on the bar.

"Not much business today," Odo commented.

"I never cease to marvel at your powers of observation," Quark returned sarcastically. "If they don't catch that Saren soon, I'm going to have to close up shop. The stresses of the situation do send the troops in here for a little kanar, but they're too tense to drink more than a little. And no one is in a very playful mood. I've had to furlough my dabo girls."

Reflexively surveying the tables, Odo caught sight of a young Cardassian drinking alone, with three empty kanar bottles already in evidence. He recognized the man as Grailn, a trooper who was usually stationed at checkpoint three along the ghetto fence. "Grailn over there seems to be drinking much more than a little," he said to the Ferengi.

"Yeah, something's bothering him, beyond the generally depressing mood on Terok Nor. He's not a bad sort for a Cardassian. He comes in here a lot, tells me that he's homesick for Cardassia, finds it unnerving to look into the eyes of Bajorans who hate him day in and day out. Then one day a couple of months ago he announces, all excited, that his sister and her family are coming to Bajor as part of the farming colony in Chevra Province. That certainly didn't turn out the way he hoped."

"Hardly a mystery why he's upset then. Was a nephew or niece killed at the school?"

"I don't think so," Quark replied. "Besides, whatever the problem is, he's not grieving. Bartenders talk to lots of unhappy folks, and you get a pretty keen sense of the different kinds of unhappiness. With Grailn, it's less sadness, than nervousness‑‑in fact I think he's afraid of something."

"Hmm, indeed," Odo mused. A little voice in his head was saying This isn't your case. You don't want it to be your case but the shape‑shifter felt himself in the grip of a powerful feeling that was drowning out the little voice. He was still attempting to match the emotions he felt with the names humanoids gave to theirs, but he was fairly sure that this was the one they called "curiosity."

He approached the Cardassian's table and said, he hoped not too threateningly, "Aren't you on duty in three hours? Perhaps you shouldn't drink any more."

Grailn looked up at him with alarm, which he masked by answering contemptuously, "Don't worry, shape‑shifter, it will take more than a few bottles of kanar to interfere with my performance of my duty."

Odo sat down, uninvited. "Quark tells me that you have family among the colonists. Perhaps you should request a few days leave to deal with the shock and hurt you must be experiencing," he said by way of launching his inquiry. "I hope you didn't lose anyone in the explosion."

"Whatever my feelings, they certainly wouldn't incapacitate me," Grailn retorted venomously. Then he averted his eyes and started lacing and unlacing his fingers. "And, no, I didn't lose anyone. We were very lucky. My nephew Porneny was sick that morning and didn't go to school."

"Well, that certainly was fortunate," Odo replied meaningfully. No wonder the man was panicked. The Cardassians had equipped the perimeters of the settlement, as well as every entrance to the school, with sensors that immediately activated force fields if they registered any DNA that was not Cardassian. Odo assumed that the Obsidian Order would be looking hard for possible Cardassian accomplices in the bombing, and anyone who had kept their child home from school on the fateful day was bound to come under intense scrutiny.

Grailn realized immediately that he had said too much. There was terror in every aspect of his being as he rose from the table, stammered out, "Y‑you're right. I‑I sh‑should clear my head before I go back on patrol," and literally ran from Quark's.

The Ferengi walked over to Odo. "Whatever did you say to him, chief? Do you really have to chase away my only good customer?"

Odo ignored the question. "You know, there's one positive thing about the state of emergency," he said pointedly to the Ferengi. "This stepped‑up security will finally put an end to all the weapons smuggling that's kept the Resistance armed. Anyone who's gotten used to profiting from gun‑running to Bajor is going to need to be very careful from now on."

"If I had ever met anyone so foolish as to engage in such high‑risk profiteering, I would pass along your warning," Quark returned, utterly deadpan.

***

At 1500 hours the next day, Grailn walked into the Security Office. He looked much the worse for wear, and Odo doubted that the aftereffects of the kanar were alone responsible. The Cardassian locked the door behind him and stood, pale and perspiring, with his hands behind his back. He addressed Odo in low, pleading tones. "You've got to believe me, Porneny was sick that morning. He'd come down with hebora fever. You know how susceptible we Cardassians are to it, not having any natural immunity built up, and sometimes the vaccinations can't prevent at least a mild case. We have the test results from the doctor. The boy wasn't faking it, and my sister didn't have any other motives in keeping him home."

"It's fortunate that you do have such corroborating evidence," Odo said. "I'm sure the Obsidian Order will be checking very thoroughly on anyone who should have been at the school that morning and wasn't."

"Yes, that's why we've all been so scared. They're bound to think of that eventually."

Odo looked at him in amazement. "Do you mean that no one has yet begun such inquiries?"

Despite his distress, Grailn smiled a little, "Cardassian security training teaches us that the best way to solve a crime is to gather together everyone who might have the slightest motive for involvement, scare the crap out of them, then start with our fists, move on to the shock rods, and, if that doesn't work, point disruptors at the heads of their children. They've still got too many Bajorans left to 'question' in this manner. They'll only start considering Cardassians as possible targets later." He took a deep breath. "Your methods of beginning with the evidence instead of the suspects has always seemed most foolish to us, Security Chief, but I'm beginning to recognize their advantages."

"If the boy has a documented excuse, I'm sure everything will still be fine," Odo responded reassuringly. His words clearly did nothing to put Grailn's fears to rest, however. The man was trembling; he looked like he might even faint. "Would you like to sit down? Can I get you some water or some raktajino?" the shape‑shifter asked.

Grailn nearly collapsed into the chair. "Some water, perhaps," the man said unsteadily. As Odo activated the replicator, he realized that there was something more to this, and that if he just sat patiently, Grailn was going to tell him what it was.

The Cardassian took a few hurried gulps of water. Then he put down the glass and buried his head in his hands. Odo merely waited. Finally Grailn raised his head and looked straight into Odo's eyes with a most piteous expression. "I've heard the ridge‑noses say that you care more about justice than punishment, that, even after an arrest, you'll wait until you're completely satisfied that you've got the right person before you turn them over for trial, that you've even set some prisoners free for lack of evidence. They also say that you try to make sure the guilty ones don't receive punishment in excess of their crimes and‑‑" he whispered conspiratorially "‑‑if someone has violated Cardassian edicts without intending to, you sometimes look the other way. Is this justice you care about only for Bajorans?"

"Justice is justice. It has nothing to do with species," Odo replied. "I think you had better tell me what has made you so miserable, trooper Grailn."

The man hesitated. He clearly didn't trust Odo, but he was also clearly desperate. "I can promise you that you'll fare better with me than with the Order," Odo pressed him. "And they will come after the boy, soon, with fists, and shock rods, and disruptors‑‑and worse. We both know that."

Grailn wrung his hands for a few seconds and then made the decision to put his life into Odo's. "The afternoon before the explosion, Porneny and his friends Taila and Limor were playing near a stream, outside the perimeter. They were forbidden to be there, of course, but you know how boys are. The sensors had malfunctioned on about a meter's length of the perimeter fence, and Resistance raids on the supply convoys had delayed the arrival of parts to repair it. Lots of the children had climbed over out of curiosity about the wilderness' outside. While the boys were wading in the stream, this Bajoran approached them; he spoke Kardasi and seemed quite friendly. Back on Cardassia, when you haven't seen the ridge‑noses for what they really are, some people get these romantic notions about the noble savages and their exotic tribal culture. The groups that recruit colonists make this a big part of their pitch. And the parents don't want to frighten the children by placing too much emphasis on the Resistance and its dangers. So the boys were fascinated by this man, and not nearly as suspicious as they should have been. He asked them a lot of questions, and then he said that it was a custom among his people to welcome strangers to their land with gifts. He had three wrapped packages with him. They were special Bajoran delicacies he wanted all the Cardassian children to enjoy at the next mid‑day meal. Because Bajorans weren't allowed in the settlement, however, he wondered if the boys could go back into the school, on the pretense of having left something behind, place the packages in their lockers and then bring them out tomorrow to surprise everyone at mid‑day. So that the surprise would work, they mustn't tell anyone else about it until next mid‑day came around. I'm sure you can figure out the rest," Grailn sighed.

"The other boys died when the bombs detonated, as the Saren had planned, but because your nephew became ill, a witness was left alive."

"But he won't be alive for long, none of us will," Grailn said despairingly. "Porneny planted one of those bombs; that's all that will matter to the Obsidian Order."

He was right, of course. The Cardassian legal system rarely discriminated between crimes committed out of malice and those that resulted from what Dukat liked to call "colossal imbecility." Odo doubted that the Prefect would have much sympathy for Grailn's hapless nephew and the parents who had failed to impress upon him what even Odo knew to be a fundamental axiom of humanoid child‑rearing: never take candy from strangers. Still, the shape‑shifter's mind groped for a happier outcome than the one Grailn had articulated. "When did the boy tell his parents about this man?" he asked.

"After Saren's first message was broadcast, Porneny recognized the voice. He had a funny way of saying 'Cardassian'‑‑it sounded like 'Carthassian.' Not the typical Bajoran accent, but more like a speech defect."

Odo didn't believe in the Prophets, and he imagined Grailn most certainly didn't either, but they did seem to have smiled on his nephew. "So you're saying that the boy has seen Saren himself and could describe him?"

"Oh, yes. In fact, he's quite the artist. I suspect he could draw a fair likeness of him."

A small escape pod on the spiralling wreck of the Grailn family fortunes. Odo leaned forward. "All right. This is what we're going to do. I will tell the Prefect what you've told me and urge him to send a Central Command Security detachment to take your family into protective custody. The boy will have to be questioned exhaustively, but if he freely tells them everything he remembers, he shouldn't be harmed. If they succeed in apprehending Saren, he'll be available to make a positive identification. I can't promise you that this strategy will prevent fairly harsh penalties from falling on all of you, but I think it has a reasonable chance of saving your lives."

Odo could see the relief spreading from the Cardassian's furrowed brow ridges to his clenched fists. "Oh, thank you, thank you, sir," Grailn said with heartfelt sincerity. "I'll unfortunately never again be in any position to repay you for your help, but I'll never forget your doing this for us."

"It's the best solution for all concerned, and it may restore my station to the state in which I prefer it," Odo responded gruffly. "No Cardassian has ever called me 'sir' before. That's payment enough, trooper Grailn." He then added gently, "I'm afraid that the first thing the Prefect will tell me to do is to lock you up. I think it's safer that you come into one of the holding cells now, before the news leaks out."

***

With Saren's image broadcast, posted, and pasted nearly everywhere on Bajor, it took only three more days before a Cardassian soldier recalled the face of a prylar at a remote mountain monastery in Musila Province who responded to questions only in writing because he was supposedly mute from birth. Troops broke into the monastery in the middle of the night, seized the putative holy man, flashed his holo‑image to young Porneny, and announced an hour later that the demon Saren was in Cardassian custody.

The authorities hustled Grailn, his sister, and her family onto the next transport out to Cardassia. After a secret tribunal, the brother‑in‑law received a sentence of two years hard‑labor for failure properly to supervise and educate his son. They placed the boy in a boarding school whose graduates qualified only for unskilled occupations. Grailn was dishonorably discharged from the Cardassian military, and he and his sister required to serve as unpaid servants in the home of the head of Central Command Security for the same two years that her husband spent in the labor camp. Not quite a happy ending, Odo reflected, but at least no one died, and Grailn would no longer suffer from homesickness for Cardassia.

***

Since no voluntary Bajoran co‑operation had led to Saren's capture, Odo had feared that the Bajoran children's lives might still be forfeit. Dukat, however, seized upon the moment as a perfect opportunity for one of those grandiloquent, magnanimous gestures he so reveled in. In a speech carried live over every broadcast channel on Bajor, he announced that he would spare the children. Everyone needed to realize that he, their Prefect, considered himself responsible for the welfare of all children on Bajor; indeed, he regarded the Bajorans as a race as the tender objects of his paternal care. Once this terrible outrage was behind them, they could all progress together into a harmonious future like the metaphorical family they were. Watching on his private comm console, Odo concluded, with some incredulity, that Dukat fervently believed everything he was saying. He was doubtless the only person in the galaxy who did.

Cardassia, to be sure, was not about to abandon all retribution. The day that Central Command had slated for the deaths of the children would instead be the day of Saren's public execution. The most talented executioners on the homeworld were coming to Bajor to insure that the procedure lasted for the scheduled sunrise to sunset duration. The big event would take place in the springball stadium in the capital of Musila Province, with mandatory attendance by half the city's Bajoran inhabitants. Outdoor screens would be set up in every other provincial capital, with similarly enforced viewing for the natives. And anyone with a voluntary interest in the proceedings could tune them in on any channel of their home comm systems.

Half the senior staff of Central Command would attend the execution, along with assorted dignitaries from every branch of the Cardassian civilian government. Dukat would, needless to say, occupy a place of honor at this impressive display of Cardassian justice. Several hours before he was due to depart for Bajor he called Odo to his office and asked him if he would like to accompany him to the ceremony. "After all, you really broke the case," the Prefect told him. "You might as well be there to take some credit."

Sickened at the thought, Odo demurred, "Prefect, if it were to become widely known that I had any part in Saren's capture and death, I would immediately lose the confidence of the Bajorans here on the station that's so important to my work. I'm quite happy to let you and Central Command receive all the praise."

"I suppose you're right," Dukat agreed reluctantly. "Be assured that I at least can appreciate how you enabled the military to capture this terrorist without requiring any assistance from those smug bastards in the Obsidian Order. I'm in your debt, Odo, and I won't forget it. Too bad you won't be there to enjoy the fruits of your labors, though. I, for one, would have liked the company."

***

Odo immured himself in the Security Office for what promised to be the protracted length of the horrific ritual. He kept in close contact with the guards patrolling the Bajoran sector, where a complete lockdown was in effect. Even the ore‑processing operation had been halted, so great were fears of rioting or reprisals from Bajorans outraged by Saren's fate and its gruesome public display. Otherwise, he reviewed, categorized, and filed away a half‑year's back‑logged crime reports‑‑anything to keep his mind off the events taking place on the planet and his part in bringing them about.

He wasn't even sure how much time had passed when his comm console beeped and the face of Dukat's second‑in‑command, Rakal, appeared on the screen. "Security Chief Odo, please come at once to Central Operations," he said.

"What is it? A possible security breach?"

"I'd prefer to tell you here. Come immediately," the Cardassian reiterated.

In the turbolift Odo puzzled over the unusual request. The Cardassian officers barely tolerated the Prefect's insistence on having a freakish alien civilian in charge of station security, and they allowed him as little access to Ops as possible. Usually they came to his office when they required face‑to‑face communication.

He arrived at the entrance and pushed the call key. They didn't trust him with the access codes. One of the Cardassians passed him through instantly. As soon as he was visible, Rakal hurried over and pulled him in the direction of an unmanned console. "We've got a bit of a . . . situation here," he whispered. "Prefect Dukat came back from Bajor two hours ago, locked himself in his office, and has refused to respond to any of my transmissions or accede to my request that he open the door. I had thought he might be dealing with some emergency, but there's been no comm traffic, and he hasn't even logged onto his computer console . Still, something has to be very wrong to have brought him back from the planet before the festivities had concluded." Rakal gestured toward the front viewscreen. Odo's gaze instinctively followed the outstretched arm; then he quickly averted his eyes. "A few officers from Central Command have radioed to find out why he left, but, as I said, he won't respond to any of the transmissions."

"Did he say anything before he sequestered himself?" Odo asked.

"He told us to turn off the broadcast of the execution, but then he changed his mind and said that we were welcome to watch, if we would just kill the audio."

Strange, Odo thought. He couldn't imagine what was going through Dukat's mind, nor why Rakal had summoned him to deal with the Prefect's aberrant behavior. "What do you want me to do?" he asked, "I don't have the authorization codes to override any of the security protocols in Ops."

"None of us does. Since the state of emergency began, only the Prefect himself has the codes. But the doors to his office aren't airtight. Someone of your special abilities could get in and analyze the situation."

"I doubt that Prefect Dukat will be very pleased to have an unauthorized intrusion upon his privacy," Odo observed drily.

Rakal merely shrugged his shoulders, regarding the security chief with a contemptuous sneer that clearly said, "That's why it's going to be you on the receiving end of his anger, shape‑shifter, and not me."

***

Odo went to the door of Dukat's office and called out loudly, "Prefect, this is Security Chief Odo; I'm coming in to see you. Your men are concerned about you." At least he wouldn't be taking him by surprise. That might forestall a disruptor blast‑‑that and the Cardassian's professed gratitude for his help in bringing Saren to "justice." However, experience had taught him that Dukat's generous impulses could be quite fleeting. Well, waiting wouldn't make any difference. Summoning up his resolve and turning himself gelatinous, he oozed in underneath the door. When he re‑formed, Dukat was staring at him with an amused look on his face but making no threatening moves. That was a relief. Odo took in the nearly empty bottle of kanar and the glass that Dukat was cradling in both hands. What was the idiom the Ferengi bartender sometimes used? Ah, yes, "drowning your sorrows."

Dukat spoke first. "Those tricks of yours never cease to amaze me, shape‑shifter," he said with a little laugh. "I don't recall ordering any entertainment, however."

"Glinn Rakal was worried because you weren't responding to messages from Central Operations. He couldn't gain entrance, but he knew I could."

"You may tell him that there is nothing to worry about. I'm sure whatever he wants to discuss with me can wait. After all, I'm still supposed to be down on Bajor." Dukat's voice was steady. If he was inebriated, he gave no sign of it. "You are welcome to leave the way you came in."

Every instinct of self‑preservation told Odo to do as the Cardassian had requested. Yet clearly something was amiss. If the Prefect were impaired, station security might be also. "Of course I'll go, Prefect," he said, "but if you could clarify why you aren't still on Bajor, that might allay Glinn Rakal's concerns."

Dukat glared at him. "That's neither his business nor yours."

Odo nodded and began to liquefy, but he heard Dukat calling to him. "Wait, Odo. Security must investigate all deviations from prescribed behavior on Terok Nor. That's in your job description, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

"Then I shouldn't be asking you to neglect your duties. All right. Sit down. Have a drink."

"You know I don't drink," Odo responded wearily.

"Damn your impudence! Don't tell me what I know or don't know," Dukat snapped.

"I don't drink," Odo rephrased the response.

"Now I know it," Dukat wagged a finger at him, almost playfully. "And you want to know why I'm not still at the execution? Well, I'll tell you." Instead of carrying out his promise, however, he refilled his glass, emptying the kanar bottle. Odo waited patiently. He still hadn't sat down.

Dukat was studying the liquid in the glass, holding it at eye‑level. "It's a funny thing, Odo; we Cardassians have come up with the most devilishly varied assortment of tools for making a man scream and writhe in agony, but in the end, it's all just screaming and writhing, isn't it?"

"That's not a subject to which I have devoted much attention," Odo hedged.

"Wise man. Well, after a couple of hours of seeing the foolish Mr. Saren scream and writhe, I'd had quite enough. Despite appearances," he gestured through the window to the operations officers, with their eyes glued to the viewscreen, "not all Cardassians take pleasure from that kind of thing. When the terrorist finally passed out for the first time, I took advantage of the intermission to leave. I'd shown the flag and all. One of the perquisites of my position is that I don't have to pretend anymore to enjoy things that I don't enjoy." He looked up at Odo, then, a melancholy expression in his eyes. "I had to pretend to enjoy my father's execution, of course. That wasn't anything like this event, thankfully. Just the quick rifle shot to the chest. No, all his screaming and writhing had been done previously, quite privately, with only the torturers for an audience." Dukat finished the kanar. "Could I trouble you to fetch another bottle from the cabinet?" he said.

Odo brought him the kanar, and, this time, he sat down. "Your father was executed, Prefect?" he asked. There'd been rumors to that effect all over the station from the moment Odo had arrived, but he'd never had them confirmed to his satisfaction.

"Now, Odo, I'd have far less trust in you as my Security Chief than I do if I believed you'd never heard those whispers."

"I had heard them, Prefect. I had not necessarily believed them."

"Oh, they're quite true," Dukat said with a wave of his hand. Odo could see that the intoxicating effects of the liquor were beginning to take hold. "He was executed as a traitor to the state, twenty‑five years ago. It's taken me my whole career to restore the Dukats to their proper place on Cardassia, the place we lost because of him."

"Did he fall afoul of a more powerful political faction?" Odo inquired tactfully. He knew that the Cardassian definition of treason was quite an elastic one.

"No, no, he was the genuine article as far as traitors go. He blew up a troop transport and killed 1500 men."

"Why would he do that?" Odo exclaimed, his investigator's temperament overcoming his caution.

Dukat's face darkened with anger. "Because he was a fool!" he shouted. Chastened, Odo said nothing. But Dukat's mood changed immediately. He keyed in the password to the locked drawer of his desk and pulled out a holo‑image. "I've just gotten this new picture of Ziyal, Odo. Isn't she becoming quite the young lady?" he said, beaming paternally.

Odo took the picture from the Cardassian's extended hand. The little girl of the image he had seen two years before now showed all the physical signs which indicated that humanoid females were entering adolescence. "Yes, she's definitely growing up," Odo replied as he returned the picture.

Dukat contemplated it for several seconds, with the same slightly out‑of‑focus stare he had previously bestowed on his glass of kanar. "I've got to think of a place to send her and her mother where they'll be safe. The lives of my lover and my child won't be worth a groat on Bajor once we pull out," he mused. "It goes without saying that I can't bring them home to Cardassia with me."

Odo tried in vain to keep the astonishment out of his voice. "The Cardassians are leaving Bajor?"

Dukat faced him, grinning smugly. "Oh, don't worry, shape‑shifter, you haven't failed in your intelligence‑gathering efforts. We haven't yet quite admitted to ourselves that we're leaving. This whole public butchering of Saren is meant to convince everyone back home that the Bajorans can still be cowed, that no one else will ever dare to attack Cardassian children after they see what's being done to him. But deep down we all know that after the

Resistance bombed that school, no Cardassian in his right mind would ever bring a family to Bajor. My wife radioed me triumphantly that I had been wrong all these years for insisting that she and the children join me on Terok Nor. 'I've always told you that one could never raise proper Cardassian children safely among those savages,' he quoted, imitating his wife's scolding tone. Bajor was supposed to be a better place for us to raise children, a soft, green place where one could live secure from the threats of droughts and earthquakes and volcanic eruptions. With the promise of Bajor as a Cardassian colony dead, Central Command will eventually bow to civilian pressure about all the losses we've suffered and pull out. It may take a year, it may take two or three, but when I looked into the faces of all the dignitaries who'd come in to witness Saren's execution I saw that the Occupation is at an end. We've failed. I've failed."

He banged his glass down hard on his desk, causing half the contents to splash out. "Why couldn't those damned Bajorans understand? If they'd just have accepted our guidance, we would have gradually brought them up to our level. They could have been our partners. There's enough room on Bajor for Cardassians and natives to share. But, no, all they could think of was blocking our efforts, ambushing our soldiers, and now blowing up our children. You should have seen their faces as I entered the stadium, hatred virtually radiating from their insolent eyes‑‑and I'll get the blame for their intransigence. It's hardly fair, is it, Odo?"

"There's been little fair about the Occupation all around, as far as I have observed," Odo replied carefully.

Dukat wagged his finger at him again. "Oh, yes, always the neutral observer, that's been the key to your success. However, you'd better be thinking about where you're going to run to when we leave. It's true that the Bajorans have a grudging respect for you these days, but when they start rounding up collaborators, don't think you'll be spared."

Odo realized that he'd never once considered what he'd do if the Occupation ended. He hadn't ever even entertained the possibility that it might end. Faced with that possibility, however, he was sure of one thing instinctively. He wouldn't run. "Perhaps I won't be," he responded thoughtfully, "but, whatever the consequences, I'll stay here. I know every conduit, relay, and computer system on the station, every corridor and business on the Promenade. It's where I'm comfortable, the only place I can imagine feeling at home."

"You don't think that it's my home, too!?" Dukat was almost screaming. "I've lived here for the better part of twenty years. Cardassia has become merely a place I visit from time to time. I built Terok Nor, it protected me from the assassins who killed the first four Prefects, and now they're just going to take it away from me." He hurled the glass across the room, and it smashed into a cascade of translucent shards as it struck the wall and fell to the floor.

The dozens of Cardassian engineers and architects who designed this place, and the thousands of Bajoran slave laborers who constructed it would disagree with you about that Odo had thought as he listened to Dukat's tirade. It would do him no good to debate the Gul's typically egocentric view of the quadrant, however. Clearly the first priority now was to get him out of Ops before he embarrassed himself any more and then took it out on all of them when he sobered up.

"They haven't done anything of the sort, yet, Prefect." Odo tried to sound soothing, although it wasn't his usual style. "You may be over‑emphasizing the direness of the situation. Things could well look brighter in the morning. If you're not planning to conduct any station business tonight, don't you think you ought to make yourself more comfortable, in your own quarters?"

Dukat was not so drunk that he didn't realize what Odo was doing. "Looking out for my reputation, eh, Security Chief? I do suppose I shouldn't furnish Central Command with any reasons to give up Terok Nor sooner rather than later." Taking the bottle of kanar in hand, he rose a bit unsteadily, touched the lock keypad, and went down to Ops. He addressed the crew in a tone of exaggerated casualness. "I'm going to make an early night of it, men. If some true emergency should arise, you can route it through to the comm console in my quarters." He glanced over at the viewscreen and noticed that it now showed only the starfield around Terok Nor. "Did you tire of the spectacle of retribution, Rakal?" Dukat asked his second‑in‑command.

"No sir. The Bajoran em'klet died ten minutes ago, bringing the spectacle to a premature conclusion," Rakal spat out scornfully. "Those resistance fighters think they're so tough! Ha! A Cardassian would have lasted hours longer."

Dukat clapped the man heartily on the back. "Right you are, Rakal, that's why we'll defeat them in the end," he asserted with all the confidence he did not feel.

***

Odo accompanied the Prefect to his quarters to assure that he arrived there without incident. He used the pretense of consulting him about any necessary security upgrades they should implement to ward off Resistance reprisals in the wake of Saren's execution, although he doubted that it fooled Dukat. Nevertheless, the Cardassian did not protest. After they passed through the gauntlet of six separate security contingents, four scanners and three forcefields to which only Dukat had the deactivation codes, he bid the Prefect good night as they stood outside the door to his quarters. "Could I perhaps interest you in a nightcap, Odo?" Dukat asked, indicating the bottle of kanar.

The shape‑shifter did not rise to the bait this time. "Perhaps another time, Prefect," he said with a slight smile.

"That's what I like about you, shape‑shifter," Dukat replied. "You learn from your mistakes." He punched in the lock codes, but before pressing the "open" key, he turned to Odo once more. "I didn't tell you the real reason my father blew up that ship, did I?"

"No, you didn't."

Dukat gave a bitter laugh. "He wanted to get Central Command's attention, so that they would take seriously his claims that the Bajorans would never stop fighting us, and that, if we continued to use every means at our disposal to try to crush them, Cardassia would still lose the battle in the end, and lose its soul along with it. I hope a few people remember that, when we slink home with our tails between our legs." He shook his head sadly. "Good‑night, Odo."

Without waiting for a reply, Dukat opened the door and went in. Odo remained in the corridor for a few seconds, pondering. "Hmm, so odd, these relations between parents and children among humanoids. No one can hurt them more deeply, even while purporting to care for them. Yet even after parents have betrayed children, or children parents, the betrayers still expect the betrayed to love them in return." Then, as he hurried to clear the

forcefields before the Prefect reactivated them, a final puzzling thought struck him, "And often they do."

- end -