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Don’t run.

She’d never faced one alone, but everyone knew basic safety. Never try to outrun a cadge lupus. You could try to charge it, make noise, make big movements; sometimes—often—that drove them off. Otherwise, look for the tallest tree you could climb and get off the ground. Kira acted. She lunged at the animal, swept with her arms, making the fiercest sound she could muster. Unfortunately, it came out sounding weirdly shrill and decidedly harmless. The lupus didn’t budge, only continued to growl at her, the grizzled fur on the back of its neck spiking with aggression.

If it leapt for her, went for her throat, she’d be dead. If it followed her into the tight cave, she’d be trapped, unable to run in the narrow passage.

Kira spotted a tall tree with low branches, not too far behind the animal. She didn’t stop to think, only took an enormous breath and ran for it. She sprinted so close to the lupus she could have reached out and patted its head. She must have confused it, for she reached the tree and was shimmying up the trunk before the beast came after her.

She reached a branch high off the ground, tried vainly to catch her breath as she perched on the peeling wood where it joined the trunk. The lupus paced the ground below, growling and whining.

Think.If the lupus went away soon, maybe she’d still have a chance to get back into the passageway before her biosign tripped the grid. But if not…she’d be better off letting the animal have her. Better that than bringing Union soldiers down on the warren.

How could she have forgotten her phaser? It was Tahna’s fault, catching her off guard while she was in the middle of cooking breakfast, trying to conceal her meal from the others in the cell—after this, she’d never eat more than her fair share in a day, she vowed it to the Prophets a hundred times over.

Finally, the lupus seemed to lose interest in her, and it skulked off silently into the forest. But Kira knew better than to move right away. It would stay close, watching to see what she’d do. How long should she wait? Half an hour? Ten minutes? How long until the detection system locked onto her—if it hadn’t already—and she’d end her life as a Cardassian practice target up in this ridiculous tree? She recalled her earlier thoughts, and decided that if the lupus meant to have her, so be it. It was better than the alternative. She edged toward the trunk of the tree, reminded anew that coming down a tree was a much more difficult undertaking than climbing one.

The clouds were creeping in, the perfect day beginning to turn into something else again. Fine droplets of rain had begun to fall by the time she reached the ground, and she dashed for the nearby cave entrance, squirming considerably as she fought her way through the hateful passage, imagining the creature slipping through the dark behind her. She would not be doing the weather report for a good long time after this. And the supply run? She’d be using the west entrance, thank you very much, no matter how risky it was said to be.

To her great dismay, Lupaza was waiting for her when she finally made it back to the primary chamber. The older woman held the remains of Kira’s ration packet in her hand. These wrappers were not composted—like most products manufactured by the Cardassians, they were made without consideration for the long-term impact of their existence. The wrappers were usually pitched into one of the streams, where they would wash up at a point not far from Dahkur town with the rest of the cell’s trash. Scavengers usually picked those things out and found ways to reuse them.

“Girl!” Lupaza exclaimed. “I’ve told you and told you…”

“I know, Lupaza, but I promise I’m not going to be hungry again until tomorrow. I feel a little sick, actually.”

“Where have you been? Weather report again?”

Kira nodded.

“What’s it doing out there? Rain, like they said?”

“Rain, like they said. You know—you’ll think I’m crazy, but I’m going back to bed.”

Lupaza shrugged. “I’ve always thought you were crazy, Nerys.”

“Thanks.”

Kira slid past the older woman and walked to the sleeping barracks, where the rest of the cell was still asleep. She settled down onto a wide pallet that held the slow-breathing forms of Shakaar, Latha, Chavin, and Mobara. Chavin was snoring. Kira wondered, as she tried to relax into elusive sleep, how she’d managed to escape detection this time. Without even a false life sign! Was it because she was too close to the kelbonite? Or was it really just luck? Probably, it was the kelbonite. Otherwise, wouldn’t the Cardassians have found their hiding place by now? Kira didn’t know, and she was too tired to properly consider. Her mind raced for a while before she finally started to drift, just as the others began to stir.

“Wake up, lazy!” Chavin chided her, pulling the blankets away, and Kira waved him off, too tired to challenge the insult. Thankfully, the others finally left, and Kira could sleep. She dreamed of a pacing cadge lupus, and a tree that was somehow sinking into the ground, lowering her to the animal’s waiting jaws.

OCCUPATION YEAR THIRTY-SIX

2363 (Terran Calendar)

6

Dukat was exhausted when he disembarked at the docking ring of Terok Nor. The funeral had been spectacular, one of the biggest Cardassia Prime had ever seen. Dukat had expressed polite condolences to Gul Darhe’el’s family, but he secretly felt that the whole thing had a certain ostentatious crudeness about it. Darhe’el was hardly worthy of such an honor, and regardless of his character, there were some Cardassians, Dukat among them, who felt that death was a solemn occasion, not the appropriate time for garish displays. Darhe’el’s family apparently felt differently. Gul Darhe’el, rot his petulant soul, would certainly have approved.

The funeral had been tiresome, and his few days at home had been less than peaceful. Athra had brought up the idea of moving to Terok Nor yet again, a topic he thought they’d closed long ago. A military ore processing station was no place for children. She knew that, and if she was so lonely, she might be a bit more welcoming when he did get time away, might make an effort not to argue over subjects long decided—and their bed had been cold for much of his stay. The bittersweet pride he usually felt upon seeing how his children had grown had too quickly faded, the lost years telling in their watchful young eyes. Two of them were in secondary training already…Even his habitual visit to Letau had failed to rouse his spirits. He had been bone-weary since before the long, cramped flight back to Terok Nor.

He was greeted, as he filed off the transport ship, by several members of his staff, all vying for his immediate attention regarding every manner of station business. Dukat tried to wave them off, but at least one glinn had news that Dukat knew he’d do best not to ignore: Legate Kell was on the comm, calling for the third time this afternoon.

“He knows how long it takes to travel from Cardassia Prime to Terok Nor,” Dukat complained to Glinn Trakad, as they started for operations. “I saw him on Cardassia Prime not twenty-six hours ago. What could possibly be so important that he needs to contact me before I can even get my bearings after such a long journey?”

The dull-witted Trakad had no answer for him, and Dukat sullenly recalled the loss of one of his favorite aides, Corat Damar. Dukat sorely wished he could find another officer as loyal and agreeable in person as Damar had been, but then, of course, in the end, Damar had chosen his personal life over station business. Enough time had passed that Dukat supposed he was willing to forgive the younger man for it, but the recollection was still irksome.

Kell was waiting for him on the comm when he arrived in his office and put on the lights. The room felt cold and deserted, after only two days, but he heard the environmentals kick on as he sat.

“Legate,” Dukat addressed his superior. “I didn’t expect to converse with you again quite so soon.”

“Dukat, it has recently come to my attention that you have changed religious policy on Bajor,”Kell said. “Again.”