“The treaty—”
“Damn the treaty!” Vaughn said. “The peace we have with Cardassia is anything but genuine, and you know it!”
Nechayev’s mouth tightened in annoyance. Vaughn winced, waiting for the inevitable fallout, but after a moment, the vice-admiral’s expression changed, as if she had decided something.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,”she said softly. “In fact, this conversation never took place.”
Vaughn’s eyes narrowed.
“I trust you will do the right thing, Commander.”
“I…thank you, Vice-Admiral.”
As the communication ended, Vaughn decided it was the closest thing he’d get to permission. There would be no safety net if the information was traced back to him. But then, he worked best without a net. Whatever consequences he faced personally, he could bear it knowing that he had at least tried to save Bajor from the fate of indefinite occupation. Before he could change his mind, he entered the approximate communication code for the post on Valo II.
24
Kalem was quick to answer the comm this time, as it awoke him from the early stages of sleep. The timing of the communication suggested a contact point from somewhere outside Kalem’s own time zone—but since few people from the Kendra Valley ever sought to contact him in this manner, Kalem could have assumed as much anyway. Holza,he thought hopefully, though he wasn’t sure he recognized the voice as Jas Holza’s.
“This is Kalem Apren. State your business.”
“Mister Kalem. I understand you are something of a spokesperson for your people. I have a proposition that I hope you will find interesting.”
“With whom am I speaking?” he asked, still confused from sleep.
“I represent the Cardassian Union.”
Kalem was taken aback, to say the least. A Cardassian representative was certainly the last person he would have expected to hear from—the last person he wanted to hear from. But his curiosity dictated that he listen. “Continue,” he said.
“As I stated, my sources have informed me that you have a great deal of influence over the people on your world,”the voice said silkily. “If this truly be the case, then my people hope that you will help us to convey a message to all of Bajor.”
“What message might that be?”
“That we intend to withdraw our interests from this planet—from this system. Can I count on you to relay this message?”
Kalem felt the discernible rush of blood in his ears, the amplification of his own heart. Had he really heard what he thought he’d heard?
“Yes,” he said, feeling all his hopes held hostage by the possibility that this was not really happening. “I…will convey the message…”
The voice continued. “But I think you will agree that an abrupt withdrawal could warrant disastrous results. Your people will need an interim government, someone trustworthy to steer Bajor through the difficult storms ahead. Bajor has very little of its own infrastructure intact, and one hopes that a new Bajoran cabinet could help to reestablish some of the basic necessities that will help keep the Bajoran populace from escalating into chaos.”
Kalem thought it sounded reasonable, but the initial burst of jubilance suddenly seemed further away. The voice continued, but Kalem was losing focus, only half-hearing the offers that were being made to him.
“…an election, of course. I look to you for advice regarding some suitable candidates for various positions…”
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 cannot leave my people at this time. You see, I am far too busy consoling the families and friends of those who were killed in the massacre here in the Kendra Valley—”
“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 disconnect button without waiting for the prefect’s reply. His breath was coming hard. He had another call waiting for him, and whoever it was, it had to be someone whose conversation would be preferable to Gul Dukat’s.
“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 stunned. “Yes,” he said quickly. “I…I know, I spoke to Dukat…”
“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—”