But Monor? He arrived at Raknal V an insufferable clod and he was now taking over Raknal V as the same insufferable clod. It was maddening.

Qaolin stared at the bottle of bloodwine.

Then he smiled.

Prefect Monor stared at the view of his planet from his office. The sun was starting to set behind the solid, Cardassian-constructed buildings that would now serve as the focal point of Cardassia’s colony on this world. Monor’s World.

“I like the sound of that,” he said aloud.

“The sound of what, sir?”

Monor turned to see that Ekron had entered. The years had been kind to Monor’s aide. For one thing, age had softened his ridges, so they didn’t quite make his face look so craterlike. For another, after a rocky start, he took quite well to living planetside. Monor suspected that change mostly came about when the prefect finally gave in and let him pursue that imbecilic hevritproject of his—though even Monor had to admit that the transplanting had been a success, for all the difference it made to the price of kanar.Still, it kept Ekron happy, and as long as he was happy, he was efficient, which was what mattered to Monor. He’d have been lost in this post without Ekron’s efficiency.

“I was just admiring the view of my planet,” he said in answer to Ekron’s query. “And it is, you know. Mine. Make a note for me to send a message to Central Command seeing if they can name the planet after me. Least they can do after saddling me with those damned Foreheads for eighteen years. It’ll be good to see the last of them, let me tell you. Don’t know what it took for one of them to see sense, but I’m glad that K’mpec person at least has a brain. He’s probably some kind of mutant—the only Forehead with an actually measurable cranial capacity. Hard to believe, really, that people with such massive heads can have such tiny brains. Make a note of that, Ekron, we should do some kind of study.”

“Yes, sir,” Ekron said. “Ah, you have a package, sir. It was just delivered from the southern continent.”

“What!?” Monor turned around. “Dammit, man, do I have to do allthe thinking around here? That could be—”

“It’s already been thoroughly scanned, sir,” Ekron interrupted.

Of course it has, you old fool, Ekron’s no idiot.“And what is it?”

“It’s a bottle of bloodwine, sir.” Ekron handed a box to Monor.

Gingerly, half expecting it to explode, Ekron’s scan notwithstanding, Monor opened the box.

Inside was a bottle with some kind of Forehead logo on it, along with that scrawl they insisted was a language. Also inside was an optical chip.

He handed the latter to Ekron. “I’m going to regret this, but put it in the viewer.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ekron did so, and the viewer on Monor’s office wall lit up with the hideous face of Qaolin.

“Greetings, my old enemy. Eighteen years ago, we faced each other in combat worthy of song, and one that intertwined our destinies on this forsaken ball of rock. Today, we part, with victory in your grasp. I must admit, this was not the ending I had in mind for our battle when our ships first engaged over this world, but I cannot deny that you have been a worthy foe. Therefore I give you this parting gift—the finest bottle of the finest bloodwine from our finest vintner. I salute you, Prefect Monor—you have been a worthy foe.Qapla’ !”

The message then ended. “At least he wasn’t slurring,” Monor muttered. Then he handed Ekron the bottle. “Destroy it.”

“Sir? It wasa gift.”

Monor’s lips curled in distaste. “Please. It’s a Forehead abomination. I want all traces of those creatures abolished from my world, starting with this blood vinegar of theirs and finishing with that filthy Ch’gran wreck. That’s what started this whole mess, you know. I tell you, Ekron, I wish you’d never found that damned relic. If you hadn’t, we’d have just colonized this place eighteen years ago and I could’ve retired.”

Taking the bottle from Monor, Ekron said, “As you say, sir.”

“I want that bottle vaporized, Ekron. Hell, I want it atomized.I don’t even want there to be microscopic traces of that damned Forehead swill on my world, is that understood?”

“Yes, sir. If you’ll excuse me, sir.”

Ekron took his leave. Monor went back to the window and watched the rest of the sunset on his world.

Chapter 40

Betazed

Elias Vaughn sipped his single-malt Scotch as he stood on the periphery of the crowd. He saw several familiar faces at the reception, but thankfully no one he knew well enough to actually talk to. Some nodded their heads at him, others ignored him. None came to talk to him, which suited him fine. He was just marking time until the transport arrived in any case. The reception was unusually quiet, as most of those present were telepaths, and so defaulted to talking among themselves psionically.

Finagling the invitation to this reception was the only way Vaughn could justify the trip to Betazed without it getting in the way of the mission he and T’Prynn were about to go on in the Arvada system. But it was something he felt the need to do now, before Arvada III, in case that mission went bad.

Vaughn wasn’t even sure what the reception was for—all he knew was that Uhura got him on the guest list.

“Well, well, well, look who’s here.”

Closing his eyes, Vaughn thought, Not him. Why did he have to be here?

Giving in to the inevitable, he turned to see the familiar smug face, irritating smile, shock of white hair, and black spots of Curzon Dax. He was dressed in an ankle-length blue jacket decorated with some kind of sun-and-moon pattern over a white shirt and black pants.

“Ambassador,” he said with a minimal inclination of his head. As Dax approached, Vaughn caught a whiff of allirapunch. Wistfully, Vaughn remembered that Ian Troi was rather fond of that stuff—in fact, it was at the reception on the Carthageeighteen years ago that he introduced Vaughn to the beverage. Seeing Dax drink it now seemed wrong to Vaughn.

“Have to admit to being surprised to see you here, Vaughn. You never really struck me as the partying type.”

“I have some personal business to take care of on Betazed.” That was as much as he was willing to share.

“Fair enough. It seems to be a day for surprises. I thought for sure that Lwaxana Troi would be present—I’m told she nevermisses a party—but she’s not around, either.” Dax hesiated, then took a sip of his punch. “Listen, I’m glad you’re here, actually. I was so caught up in the political nonsense on Qo’noS after we left the Great Hall I never had a chance to thank you.”

Vaughn almost choked on his Scotch. “Excuse me?” Curzon Dax is actually expressing gratitude? Tome ?

“Well, for your help, for one thing,” Dax said with a smile. No doubt he’s enjoying my discomfiture.“Your tracking down those records proved to be a very handy bargaining chip. I think it’s safe to say that relations with the Empire are stronger than ever.”

“That’s good.”

“Yes.” He shook his head. “I have to ask, Commander—how didyou obtain that information?”

Rather than answer, Vaughn simply stared at the older Trill.