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"There's something else I need to discuss with you—"

Sisko's hand stopped a few centimeters away from the turbolift's controls. "What's that?"

He hesitated for only a moment. "Technically, this is something beyond my sphere of authority, Commander. Nevertheless, I feel it's my duty to inform you. Major Kira's whereabouts are unknown; as I believe you were previously notified, she left in one of the station's runabouts, without filing a flight plan."

"So where is she?"

"At the moment, she's in transit, returning from Bajor; her estimated time of arrival is within the next hour or so—"

The commander's shoulders lifted in a shrug. "I expect Major Kira had her reasons. She's made similar trips before."

"This may be a little different," said Odo. "While you were occupied with these concerns regarding your son, Ops received an official subspace communication from the Bajoran capital. There's been a successful coup d'etat against the provisional government. The Severalty Front led by General Aur has taken complete control of the planet."

Sisko's eyes widened. "You must be joking, Constable."

"I'm not known for humor; the communique and the further details that have come in are waiting for you at Ops."

"The way things were going, I suppose this was inevitable." Sisko gave a weary sigh. "We'll just have to deal with it, then. At least until the Bajoran people toss this lot out."

"That may not happen for a while, Commander. I've been in touch with my own informants on Bajor; it seems that the new government has every sign of enjoying wide popular support. But that's not what I wanted to tell you about. My informants were also able to fill me in on Major Kira's activities while she was planetside. It seems that she had private meetings with various members of the Severalty Front, including General Aur, immediately before the coup."

"Indeed." The commander's expression grew hard. "Are you making an accusation against Major Kira?"

"Of course not." Odo returned the other's level gaze. "I'm merely providing information which I believe you should have. It's up to you to determine what it means."

"Meeting with members of the Severalty Front could mean anything. Or perhaps nothing."

Odo gave a single nod. "As I said, Commander: it's your determination to make."

"Very well." Sisko reached again for the turbolift controls. "You acted properly by informing me of this matter. I assume that, for the time being, the report of Kira's activities remains confidential?"

"Absolutely."

"Carry on with your other investigations, Constable." Sisko pressed a button and the turbolift chamber slid from sight.

That was unpleasant, thought Odo. Relaying information about a fellow officer, especially a . . . respected one. Still, as Sisko had pointed out, it could all mean anything, or nothing.

He turned and walked away from the turbolift doors, heading back to the security office on the Promenade.

They were all waiting for him. He knew that; there were so many things at Ops, every crucial matter that required his decision, for him to say yes or no to. He had to set policy, and deal with the complex, interwoven net of communiques and demands from the Federation and all the non-aligned worlds. While the station's enemies, those who would destroy DS9 and terminate its mission, circled around, searching for an undefended spot—some weakness that he had overlooked, that he was responsible for—that they could seize upon like earthly prey in the jaws of wolves . . .

The interior of Commander Sisko's head seemed sometimes to echo with the tumult of all the calls upon his time and attention. As the turbolift moved through the station, he closed his eyes, gathering his strength. The weight upon his shoulders had been great enough already—and now this information about Major Kira's activities on the surface of Bajor had come to light. In the DS9 chain of command, she was second only to himself; as much of the burden of administration as could be shifted from him, she had taken up. There had been enough occasions when she had demonstrated her abilities and ongoing loyalty to Deep Space Nine; yet at the same time, Sisko knew that inside herself, Kira maintained a deeper loyalty to Bajor, to the people of her own blood. As a fighter in the resistance against the Cardassian occupation, she had risked her life more than once; she would given it with little regret if she had thought it necessary. The basis of her loyalty to DS9 was that she felt Bajor's interests would be best served by the eventual success of the station's mission here, that through it Bajor could be raised to the status of a full, participating member of the Federation. That was Bajor's future, that Kira was helping to bring into reality . . .

Sisko's thoughts raced unimpeded, as though in synch with the turbolift's rushing course through the station. Only a few seconds had passed, and already his brooding had reached an inevitable point, one that he faced reluctantly.

What if Kira had changed her mind, reevaluated what she thought Bajor's future should be? Not the Federation, but something else, something that General Aur and the rest of the Severalty Front were busy conjuring up. Then her divided loyalties, to Bajor and to DS9's mission, would no longer line up quite so neatly. And if that was the case, there would be no question which would take precedence in Kira's mind and heart. There wouldn't even be two loyalties to choose between, but just one, to her homeworld and its people. And what Kira had now seen as their future.

The turbolift came to a halt, its destination reached. Eyes still closed, Sisko rubbed the ache at the corner of his brow. Kira hadn't even arrived back at the station yet; he'd have to sort this all out with her soon enough. In the meantime, though, even with that and the other problems stacking up, there was something else he needed to take care of first. Some unfinished business, between himself and someone who had slipped out of his hands like the shadows cast by another world's warming sun . . .

He stepped from the turbolift, not into the Ops deck, but into one of the station's shabbier and more dimly lit corridors. Nothing had changed since the last time he had been here.

A crackle of energy lit up the passageway, a coruscating energy field blocking his progress. The voice of the static central computer sounded from above him. "Access to this area is restricted, by orders of Security Chief Odo. Please vacate the area."

"Computer, this is Commander Sisko." From habit, he gave the rest of his identification code, though he knew the voice pattern recorded in the data banks would be sufficient.

"I'm countermanding the restriction protocols; allow temporary access for myself and no other individual at this time."

"Access granted." The energy glow, like the St. Elmo's fire that ancient sailors had encountered, blinked off and then parked back into existence behind Sisko as he walked farther into the corridor.

The door of the holosuite, the one that had been left with the CI module still in place, slid open at his touch upon the control panel. The dim corridor, and all of DS9 beyond it, vanished as he stepped inside. Once more, the sun of an eternal summer day leaked through the fingers of the hand with which he shielded his eyes. His irises adjusted, allowing him to see the individual yellow stalks wavering in the soft wind, the field rolling to the horizon's stand of trees.

His brow was dotted with sweat when he reached the cooling shade. Beneath the interlaced branches, the small white bones were still scattered where he had kicked apart the dead cat—the hallucination of a dead cat, he had to remind himself. The sensory impression of an actual physical environment was stronger here than in any other holosuite he'd experienced. It's inside my head—the disquieting awareness the cortical-induction process, the illicit technology reaching through the barrier of his skull and manipulating the brain's neurotransmitters, grew sharper. He knew that his senses weren't lying to him, tricking him into mistaking the artificial construct for reality; it was the other way around the gray matter dictating to his eyes and ears and skin they perceived.