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What is this?
“…we want to represent the will of the people, but I feel we can be reasonably certain that the status you currently enjoy will translate to your being involved in the next generation of Bajoran leaders—a new generation, you understand, a generation that is for Bajor only. My people are tired of the violence, Mister Kalem, and on my homeworld, the cries for withdrawal have become too loud for us to ignore. We recognize that the best course of action…”
Kalem scarcely realized it when the Cardassian had stopped speaking, and grappled with the distinct sense that he had just been asked a question. He spoke, not entirely sure what he was answering to—something about Terok Nor, an invitation? “Your offer…sounds generous…sir,” he began, looking for the words, and the strength, to continue. “But right now…I am very occupied with…my people…with—”
“Of course you are,”the disembodied voice said smoothly. “It is my understanding that Bajor still looks to you for advice and assistance. I have polled a great many of my Bajoran advisers and colleagues, and their responses led me directly to my decision to contact you first. Of course, if you don’t feel you are suitable for nomination, I understand that Jaro Essa is—”
“Jaro Essa will never accept any offers from you,” Kalem laughed. “While I suppose I should be…flattered…that my name has come up in discussion with your advisers, I must respectfully decline the opportunity. I ca
“Massacre!”the voice replied, and something in his tone confirmed to Kalem that he was speaking to the prefect. This was Gul Dukat; he knew it. “Kubus Oak has assured me that the people executed in Kendra were part of a dangerous terrorist organization. Tell me, did Secretary Kubus misinform me? Because if that is the case, Mister Kalem, then I must point out that this is exactly why the current Bajoran government must—”
Kalem interrupted, feeling his gorge rise at the sound of Kubus Oak’s name coming from the mouth of a Cardassian. From Dukat. Was the prefect looking for a new puppet, then?
“There will be an election,” he said forcefully. “But the Cardassians will have no say in it. That election will occur after your people are gone, not before.” Kalem abruptly squashed his thumb against the disco
“This is Kalem Apren,” he said, struggling to keep the angry breathing from overcoming his words.
“Apren!”cried Keeve Falor’s voice, heavy with interference between Bajor and distant Valo II. “I have news that is of the utmost importance! I have just spoken to a Federation contact who received pertinent information for us. The Cardassians—they are going to try and negotiate with us—”
Apren was stu
“Tell me you did not agree to any of his offers!”
“Of course I didn’t, Falor! You ought to know that I wouldn’t have!”
“Oh…oh, thank the Prophets. Yes, of course I knew, but…”
Apren explained where his thoughts had been throughout his entire exchange with Dukat. Now he knew his instincts had been correct. “If the Cardassians are negotiating, Falor, it can only mean one thing—they are genuinely on the defensive now. They are frightened.”
“You’re more right than you even know, old friend. You must tell the people on Bajor—they must not hold back now, no matter what happens. Now is the time to fight—and win.”
“But the resistance cell here in Kendra—they were all massacred by the Cardassians. Jaro Essa still has a few scattered contacts, but—”
“This message is not just for the resistance, Apren,”Keeve said. “Everyone must know of this. The Prophets have given us the opportunity we need, but we must show them that we are capable of defending our world ourselves—”
Kalem interrupted as the thought entered his mind. “Weapons, Falor.”
“Weapons?”
“We need weapons. Does Holza know of this new development?”
“Not yet, but I will—”
“You should have contacted him first, Falor!”
“I had to be sure that you wouldn’t agree to anything!”
“Falor, you should have known that I wouldn’t have. Tell Jas Holza about this immediately!”
“I will do my best to get word to him, but we can’t wait for him to come through, Apren! There must be no delays in communicating this message to the people of Bajor!”
“I understand,” Kalem answered, though he wasn’t sure he did. He wanted to know more about the Federation contact, about the sudden change in climate that would make a full-scale victory a tangible possibility; about the true nature of the offers that Dukat was trying to make. But from Keeve’s tone, it was clear that this was not the time to ask questions—this was the time to act.
“What is this place?” Tahna Los asked Biran as they crept closer to the low-lying building, several kellipates outside of Dahkur. It was old and poorly kept, with a deserted feel. “An armory?”
Kohn Biran shook his head. “I think we’ve managed to get all the armories around here. Between us, the Shakaar, and the Gertis cells, we’ve practically crippled the spoonheads in this region.”
“So, what is it?”
Biran looked stern. “Don’t tell anyone in the Shakaar cell. It’s an orphanage.”
“We’re bombing an orphanage?” Tahna didn’t mean for his voice to sound so incredulous, and he cleared his throat, glancing uncomfortably at Jouvirna. “I mean—”
“Baby vipers are still poisonous,” Biran said. “Remember what I said about the Shakaar. Especially the women.”
“Nerys probably wouldn’t have a problem with it,” Tahna said, though he wasn’t certain. “But Lupaza…”
“Don’t worry about them. We need to do this—to send a message.”
It had been six weeks since the a
“So, we’re going to kill them,” Tahna said, laboring to avoid sounding grim as he studied the pathetic building.
Jouvirna shrugged. “We could blow them up, or we could take them hostage—use them as bargaining chips to get farther into the city, should we meet with a sizeable contingent of soldiers. But probably, the spoonheads wouldn’t respond to hostages—they don’t care about the orphans. We’re doing them a favor by killing them, if you ask me.”
Tahna wasn’t so sure—and anyway, he thought it might be useful to have some leverage in case of Cardassian encounter. He hadn’t forgotten the beatings he had suffered at the hands of his Cardassian captors, the horrible devices they had used in their efforts to coerce him to reveal the location of the rest of his cell. But the memory wasn’t enough to dissuade him from continuing to fight. If anything, it fueled him, especially now that he believed the end was so near. Yet, there seemed to be little glory in carrying through with this particular target.