The Shakaar cell was to approach the munitions facility in groups of three and four, everyone carrying a satchel filled with Mobara’s specially designed explosive devices. This factory, just a few kellipates from the city of Dahkur, manufactured some of the components used in the phaser banks mounted to Cardassian ground vehicles. The first group to arrive would take care of any Cardassians who were guarding the facility, but the Shakaar members were counting on the building being mostly unguarded. At this time of year, few Cardassian troops would be stationed in Dahkur Province.
Shakaar checked his chrono, finally giving a sharp nod. They moved fast and silently through the shaded woods, the group excitement a palpable thing. Kira had been sure that the shape-shifter would help them again; she believed him to be a creature of integrity, and while he obviously wanted to keep himself removed from the occupation, he had no choice but to choose a side.
The ugly building came into focus, and as Shakaar and his team separated from the group, Kira prayed that their assumptions had been correct. The factory had been erected in the early days of the occupation, a dome-shaped thing, low to the ground and surrounded by razor wire with an electric current running through it. This type of fence was only slightly more difficult to deal with than an electrified force field—once the current was disabled with a shot to the control box near the back of the structure, the razor wire could easily be burned away with a phaser on a high setting. Shakaar and the others would take care of it just as soon as they ensured that any guards had been dealt with.
This close, they could hear the sounds of the machinery from inside, clanking and pounding over the hum of the fence. The facility operated around the clock, with busy Bajorans inside working to manufacture weapons that would be used against their own people. This was not a work camp, but a voluntary facility, staffed with Bajorans who had elected to collaborate with the occupiers of their world. Kira felt no remorse for their fate—she had nothing for them but contempt.
Come on, come on….A beat later, she heard phaser shots over uniform humming, followed by a string of small explosions in short succession. It was her turn to go, and she ran with Lupaza and Mobara to their target.
She was passed by Tahna Los and the Kohn brothers, sprinting in the opposite direction. “Only two guards!” Tahna shouted to her, holding up two fingers as he went by. Several more explosions rocked the facility, and Kira and her companions headed toward the front as Shakaar, Furel, and Latha cut in front of them, racing ahead. Kira could hear people screaming, and she willed herself not to hear.
Kira saw an opening in the wall, a jagged hole of crumbling brick, still spilling dust. She slapped the connection panel and then heaved her entire pack inside, barely slowing. A ragged internal count of three and she sheltered her head as shrapnel and pieces of the ugly structure blew out, raining chunks of debris over them. She saw Mobara hurl his pack, and heard more explosions, from everywhere around the facility. There were no more screams coming from inside, and Kira felt sure that no one had survived.
Her package delivered, Kira was off and running back toward the caves, pushing herself until the burn in her calves subsided into a steady ache that was easier to ignore. She cherished the sensation of freedom, spelled out for her in the throbbing of her muscles, in lightheadedness and a racing heart.
“If that’s all the Cardassians have for us, this will be easier than we thought,” Kira called out, slowing down as she approached the men.
“I wouldn’t get too cocky if I were you,” Shakaar warned her. “We don’t have any way of knowing how much longer the grid will be down—or how long until Dukat sends additional troops to the surface.”
Kira was undeterred. “This is only the beginning, Edon.”
She broke into a run again, eager to hear Gantt’s reports from other cells around the planet. She was elated with the plan’s success, thrilled to have played a part in such a coup against the Cardassians—
—and the workers, she thought, but quickly put the thought aside, as she put the memory of their screams away, in a secret place in her mind that was not likely to be revisited, except perhaps in her dreams. She increased her speed, working her muscles and joints as hard as she could, and found herself back at the mouth of the cave in almost no time at all.
Dukat shivered as he took his final sip of hot fish juice, juice that could scarcely be called hot anymore. He clutched at the cup, trying to draw the last of its heat into his hands; he felt as though his fingers were coated in ice. The failure of the environmental controls had his entire staff operating in a kind of frozen lethargy.
“Will you be having a refill, Gul Dukat?” Quark’s grinning face slid in front of his own. Perhaps he’d finally tired of chattering with the Lurian freighter captain who had made such a fixture of himself at the other end of the bar.
“No,” Dukat muttered to the Ferengi. “Not at what you charge. I’d have been better off going to the Replimat. At least their juice is hot.”
“So hot it will sear the flesh off the inside of your mouth!” Quark said indignantly. “You can’t eat food from a machine—it’s unnatural. The food and beverages I serve here are made with care. I personally ensure that the ingredients are only of the finest—”
“Save it,” Dukat said, and stood to go.
“Wait!” the Ferengi cried. “I’ll…offer you another glass…on the house!”
Dukat waited for the inevitable second half of the offer, but Quark only continued to smile helplessly.
“ Whywould you do that?”
“Well…because you’re Gul Dukat! It’s good for business to have the prefect seen in here…of course!” Quark said.
Dukat supposed it made sense, but the Ferengi was obviously up to something. He sighed and gestured his acceptance. “Fine, I’ll have another drink. But I do plan to mention to Odo that you’re acting suspiciously.”
“Gul!” Quark said, pretending to be hurt. “Is generosity really so out of character for me that you would—”
“Yes,” Dukat interrupted, and changed the subject. “How can you tolerate this cold?” he asked the gruesome little man as he heated another drink. “Is it as miserable as this on your homeworld?”
Quark spread his unnervingly toothy smile as wide as it would go. “It’s miserabler,” he said, and laughed at his own joke. “I rather like the new temperature setting, really. But then, it’s not my station.”
“No, it is not,” Dukat said, and accepted the hot glass. He had to admit, the juice here wasmore palatable than what could be gotten from the replicators, but he could hardly enjoy it with the persistent chill in the air.
“Remember to savor that, now,” Quark advised.
“If it weren’t for Odo,” Dukat complained, “I wouldn’t be sitting here freezing half to death, talking to you.”
“Well, then, I suppose I have Odo to thank for the pleasant conversation,” Quark said.
Dukat ignored him and continued to air his grievances. “Our constable put the chief of engineering on the first penal ship back to Cardassia Prime, before we’d called in for a replacement.”
“Odo is nothing if not overly efficient,” Quark said. “I’d say he’s pretty rigid, for a shape-shifter.”
“And then the environmental controls would have to go down, on the one day I’m short an engineering chief! I’ve just been informed that I’m not to get another one for at least forty-two hours, which means the problem’s got to be attended to by an engineering team without its leader. If you had any idea what fools Kedat surrounded himself with…”
“You know, we have a saying on Ferenginar. ‘When it rains, it rains extremely hard, reducing the entirety of your surroundings to muck.’”
Dukat made a face. “Did I ask to hear your homespun folk wisdom?” he said sourly. “At any rate,” he went on, “I reprimanded him for sending away the chief of engineering without my approval, but it isn’t as though he could possibly appreciate what the loss of environmental control means for the rest of us.”