She saw the phaser in his hand, and thought that her father would be heartbroken and furious, and then she wondered if she would have had children. She hoped the Bajorans would take advantage of what she’d given them. Funny, that her last living thought would be of them, but then—

Dost Abor fired, and Kalisi Reyar didn’t think anymore.

Kira stepped onto the shuttle with the rest of the passengers, helping the wheezing man in front of her take his seat before she took her own. The shuttle was small—there were seats for only twenty—but not quite full. It had obviously been in commission for some time, ferrying small groups to and from Bajor’s surface; the seats were worn, the paneling faded. There was only one Cardassian aboard, the pilot; apparently, the riders were too sickly to warrant a guard.

Kira settled into her seat, tense and watchful. No one spoke, but Jaryn, the woman she’d met on her ward, smiled at her, her eyes kind.

Almost out of this, Kira thought, watching the shuttle door, waiting to hear the telltale rush of internal air that signaled they were ready to leave. Kira was starting to feel like she could breathe again when a Bajoran man stepped on board. Compared to the other Bajorans on the station, the balding man was well-dressed and clean, and his face had a hard, superior look. As he scanned the seated passengers, his expression suggested that the sight of so many sick people disgusted him—and when his mean gaze reached Kira, the smile that broke across his face told her the rest of it.

Collaborator.

“Kira Nerys,” he said. “You’re to come with me.”

Kira stared at him, not moving. She feigned confusion. “Who?”

His hand dropped to his belt, and she saw the disruptor tucked there. “Just get up.”

She unbelted and stood, trying to keep her face a blank. Inside she seethed, her fear finally overwhelmed by the revulsion she felt, looking at him. A Cardassian had helped her escape; this Bajoranwas taking her back.

The shuttle pilot stepped out from behind the partition at the front of the small vessel. He looked at the Bajoran man, at Kira, back to the Bajoran.

“Get off my shuttle,” the pilot snapped.

“I’m taking her with me,” the collaborator said, nodding at Kira.

“No, you’re not,” the pilot said. “She’s going to Dahkur, Dukat’s orders. Now get off before I putyou off.”

“Dukat’s—” The Bajoran drew himself upright, his expression imperious. “Do you know who I am?”

The pilot looked him up and down with disdain. “You’re a Bajoran. That means you’re nobody.”

The passengers all held quite still, perhaps aware that they weren’t in any shape to protest. Kira felt her temper flare.

“Oh, for fire’s sake—” The Bajoran man reached for the padd tucked into his belt, tapped a few keys, presumably calling up his identification. He handed it to the pilot, who accepted it as though it might be a bomb.

While the pilot read, the Bajoran man grabbed her by the arm, the same place the dalin had gripped her, and she winced, pulling away.

“Now, Nerys, don’t be like that,” the Bajoran said, and it was all she could do not to punch him. Who was he, to be so familiar?

“This appears to be in order,” the pilot said reluctantly.

“You said she was supposed to go to Dahkur,” the Bajoran said. “Is that where the rest of them are going?”

The pilot shook his head. “One of the testing facilities. A hospital.”

The Bajoran spoke in her ear, his voice soft. “You’re lucky I came when I did, then. They like to do experiments on pretty little things like you. You didn’t really think he was going to take you to Dahkur, did you?”

Kira recoiled from him, her skin crawling. She looked out the open door onto the empty docking platform, saw that there weren’t any other soldiers. The collaborator had come alone.

“He said she was to be released in Dahkur,” the pilot insisted sullenly, still hesitant to answer to a Bajoran. “Dukat’s orders.”

“Who told you that?” the Bajoran asked. “You’ll have to come with me to the prefect’s office, immediately. This needs to be resolved.”

The shuttle’s captain shook his head, handing the padd back to him. “I’ve just received clearance for departure. I’m on a schedule. You got what you came for, didn’t you? I’ll be back in twenty-six hours, I can make a report then.”

The balding man released Kira to take the padd back. “You have no choice in the matter,” he said. “Whoever told you that this…this woman…is to be released was not acting upon Gul Dukat’s authority, I can assure you. The prefect will want to speak with you directly.”

The pilot didn’t care for the way things were going. “Let me see your identification again,” he said darkly, backing up a step. The pompous collaborator stepped forward, and Kira realized her opportunity had come.

She didn’t stop to think. As the Bajoran held out his padd, Kira stepped forward and took the phaser from his belt, the motion fast and fluid. He squawked, turning, and she pulled back with the phaser and hit him with it, as hard as she could.

The weapon glanced off his left temple with a dull chunk, splitting the skin, but he was on the floor before he’d started to bleed, out cold.

The Cardassian dropped the padd, grabbing for his own phaser, and Kira stepped back, flipping the weapon against her palm. She pointed and fired, releasing a brilliant blast of light in the small cabin.

The pilot fell, the smoking hole in his chest telling her that the phaser had been set high. The passengers were trying to get up, talking, their voices high with fear.

“Hey,” Kira called, keeping her voice low but pitched to carry. “Calm down, please. I’m taking us home, okay? Just—just buckle in.”

She hurried back to the open door, spun it closed, her heart racing. She turned, looked at the two bodies crumpled by the partition. One dead, the other only stunned—she could see that the Bajoran breathed still. She raised the phaser, thinking that it would be the second Bajoran she’d killed in as many weeks.

Second collaborator, she told herself, and that she had no choice. She fired at close range before she could consider it any further. She didn’t wantto consider it any further; only wondered, for a brief glimmer of a second, what could motivate a Bajoran to turn on his own people like this.

A few of the passengers turned away—Jaryn among them—but most looked on, their faces still frightened but calm once more. A man wearing bandages on both of his hands started to weep.

“Thank you,” he said, and Kira could think of nothing to say to that, nothing at all.

She stepped over the dead men to get to the cockpit, hoping she could handle the shuttle’s controls, thinking that she’d find a way.

OCCUPATION YEAR THIRTY-NINE

2366 (Terran Calendar)

18

The Oralians still met in the Torr sector, in an underground shrine that was conspicuously adjacent to the Cardassian theater—hiding in plain sight, among the most prominent features of Cardassia City. It was here that Thrax Sa’kat met with Kutel Esad late one evening, long after Cardassia City had fallen silent for the night, with only a few of the civilian city guard out, idly patrolling the sector. Thrax was still a soldier of Central Command, and Esad was still an agent of the Obsidian Order, but their status did not mean that they weren’t cautious when they made the exchange of the curiously bulky object, draped with a cloth and tied about clumsily with a piece of rope.

“This is the one?” Thrax inquired.

“I do not know if this is the object that Astraea first encountered at the Ministry of Science,” Esad replied. “Retrieving this item required a great deal of haste on my part, for although Enabran Tain is no longer the head of the Order, his successor is not exactly a fool.”