“Dalin Kedat?”
“Yes.” Gran was impatient, though he struggled to maintain detached politeness. He seemed far from comfortable with this arrangement. “You’ll arrest him and somehow make the charges stick. Kedat is one of three people on the station, including yourself, who have access to the surveillance feeds from the computer core, and we need him out of the way. After you arrest him, Terok Nor is going to start feeling very cold to the Cardassians.”
“You’re sabotaging the environmental control system,” Odo surmised.
“For starters,” Gran said. “It’s going to look like a malfunction. We laid the groundwork for that aspect of the plan yesterday.”
“How?”
“That doesn’t matter—”
“It matters to me,” Odo growled.
“Fine!” the Bajoran hissed. “We used the environmental control interface for the Ferengi’s holodecks—bribed him to look the other way for ten minutes. Satisfied?”
Odo scoffed at the revelation of Quark’s involvement in the scheme, but very likely the Ferengi didn’t even know what the Bajorans were up to; the better to profit while maintaining plausible deniability, as he had done with Kira. “Go on.”
“The cold won’t do any real damage, but it’ll keep most of the Cardassians uncomfortable and busy trying to fix the problem. No one will question it if you move security personnel away from the computer core in order to guard the work crews.”
“What about Dukat?” Odo asked. He was the third man with access to the core’s surveillance feeds.
“Once the temperature drops, you’ll need to figure out a way to get Dukat out of his office and keep him occupied long enough for my man to enter the core and take out the detection grid. Twenty minutes is all he’ll need.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Then it’s not going to work,” Odo said. “Dukat won’t allow me to keep Kedat in custody during a mechanical failure—not on black market charges.”
“We’ll kill Kedat, then.”
“No, you won’t,” Odo said sternly. There would be no more innocent blood on his hands. This resistance member might not understand that, but fortunately there was another reason simply assassinating Kedat wouldn’t help them: “You murder a senior officer, and Terok Nor immediately goes on heightened alert.”
“You have a better idea?”
“Actually I do, but it means you’ll need to delay the environmental malfunction.”
“How long?”
“Four hours following his arrest.”
Gran swallowed. Clearly the idea of waiting so long to implement the next phase of the plan made him nervous. “All right,” he said finally. “We’ll do it your way, Constable.” The man started to move away.
“Wait,” Odo said, sudden doubt overtaking him. “What if something goes wrong? Do you have a signal, some way to let me know if you intend to abort?”
Gran snorted. “Dozens of things could go wrong, Mr. Odo. We just have to take the risk, and hope that everything will fall into place. There are no fail-safes.”
“But—” Odo found himself very uncomfortable with this level of uncertainty. “If we are caught, several people will be executed, and you may not get another chance to disable the grid. Dukat will take pains to ensure that no more attempts can be carried out.”
The Bajoran shrugged. “True,” he said wryly. “But some things are worth taking risks for.”
Odo remembered someone else saying something quite similar once—it was Sito Jaxa, the little girl who had boldly wandered into the forest with the belief that she could deliver information to the resistance all on her own. She had taken a terrible risk, and almost paid dearly for it. Odo was not much of a risk-taker himself. He wondered if he should back out, even as he was agreeing to the reckless terms of the plan.
He left the Bajoran man alone on the Promenade and continued on his rounds, knowing now that if he failed to keep up his end of the agreement, several Bajorans would be guaranteed a death sentence, and it would essentially be his own fault. On the other hand, if he adhered to the rule of law, he should turn in the man and all who were involved. He didn’t especially want that on his conscience, though it wouldn’t be the first time he’d assisted in putting a stop to Bajoran conspiracies. He felt as though something very new and very frightening had transpired within himself these past few days—but he took some comfort in knowing that it wasn’t too late to change his mind. It wouldn’t be too late until fourteen hundred hours tomorrow.
Astraea knew that because of her position, Thrax Sa’kat had long ago decided not to make any “inappropriate” overtures to her, and while she supposed it was meant to be respectful, she still wished it were otherwise. He had returned to Cardassia Prime from his assignment on Cardassia III, raving about a perceived threat to the shrine—to the last remaining copies of the Recitations of Oralius, the book she had sought so many years ago, that Glinn Sa’kat’s family had kept safe for generations. And to the Orb, though she knew that he did not need to worry about that now.
“Glinn Sa’kat,” she interrupted him. “I have spoken to Kutel Esad, and he insists that we will be safe here. I don’t wish for you to concern yourself so.”
“But there is unrest fast approaching on our world,” Sa’kat insisted. “The situation with Bajor is unraveling, and it is only the beginning, Astraea. The Detapa Council is gaining power, which can only mean—”
“Changes,” Astraea interrupted. “Favorable changes—you said so yourself.”
“Yes,” he sighed. “But a shift in governmental power will also mean violence.”
“Oralius will keep us safe,” she insisted.
“Astraea,” he said, “I have been thinking of the Orb…”
“The Orb of Wisdom.”
“Yes.” He hesitated. “Perhaps Kutel was right when he said it was dangerous for us to have it. We don’t need any more reason to be targeted by the Order, or anyone else. I confess, since bringing it here, I’ve not felt at peace…”
Astraea was relieved to hear him say it. “Then you will be happy to know that I have already arranged for the Orb to be transferred elsewhere, Glinn Sa’kat.”
He looked up at her, his astonishment plain. “Transferred elsewhere? What do you mean?”
“You took it with you, Glinn Sa’kat.”
He was speechless, and Astraea finished quickly.
“Your business on Cardassia III,” she told him. “The Orb was with you when you traveled. I employed Kutel Esad to help me with this errand. We…had the Orb transferred to the cargo bay of your ship, and when it was unloaded—”
“Astraea!” Sa’kat cried. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“Because,” she told him promptly, “because that Orb did not belong with us. That Orb belongs to the Bajorans, and as long as we held it, Oralius did not look favorably upon us. Kutel told me he felt unsettled by the object, and I felt it too. The shrine was not a place of peace as long as it was here. I felt instant relief as soon as it was gone.”
“But…Astraea, there is no telling what will happen to it now, the cargo of my ship was unloaded at several military ports on Cardassia III…”
“The Orb will go where it is needed,” Astraea told him, stubborn in her certainty, “and, in time, so too will the six that are still in the Order’s possession. I have seen it.”
“But…” He stopped. Thrax Sakat had never argued with the veracity of her visions, but he appeared exasperated.
“I had to do it,” she said softly. “It was what Oralius wanted, please believe me.” She couldn’t explain it beyond that. She could never adequately put words to the overwhelming urges and insights she sometimes experienced. Usually, Glinn Sa’kat seemed to accept her actions and recommendations without question; this time seemed different.
“I thought…I was doing the right thing…”
“You didn’t do the wrong thing, Glinn Sa’kat. It doesn’t matter now. Please, let’s speak no more of it.”
He nodded without looking up, then he stood. “I had better go,” he said.