When Zarin’s party returned to Cardassia Prime, “Talen Kallar” was dismissed and allowed to go home. Home was a sparsely furnished apartment barely two hundred square meters in area that was nevertheless able to hold all of Corbin Entek’s worldly possessions. Entek had never been one for sentiment—one of many personality traits that made him ideal for the Order—and so he had nothing that could be considered a personal item that wasn’t directly related to personal hygiene and/or sustenance.
Now he simply had to wait until the Order summoned him. He passed the time by giving a final proofread to his report—which would be hand-delivered once the summons came. Such sensitive intelligence could not be transmitted.
Shortly after he finished reading the report over a third time, his comm unit beeped and a voice read out a coded message. Entek’s keen mind decoded it instantly—and then he blinked his wide brown eyes in surprise. He had expected to be sent to the business office that served as an Order front, where he always met with his supervisor. Instead, he had been told to report directly to Order headquarters.
Briefly, Entek worried that someone might see “Kallar” entering that edifice, thus blowing his cover, but the Order would not have summoned him there if they thought that would be a problem. That meant either that the cover was no longer a concern, or his being seen wasn’t one. Besides, he thought, Kallar is a lowly intern, not worthy of being noticed. I suspect I could walk right by Zarin or Olett on the street and they would not even know who I was.
It only took thirty minutes to traverse the distance from his apartment complex to Order headquarters via mass transit—his orders included no mention of permission to use transporters, which were generally reserved for high-level operatives, or agents actually in the field. Entek took advantage of the opportunity to study his fellow Cardassians, all moving about their lives blissfully unaware that they were under scrutiny. Well, truthfully, they probably knew they were under some kind of scrutiny at all times. Monitors in the train car provided a steady stream of governmental decrees—propaganda, truly—to remind the masses of the great nation they lived under. Entek had always been of two minds about the practice. On the one hand, it was good to reinforce doctrine to the citizenry. On the other hand, familiarity could breed contempt. The very omnipresence of the propaganda lessened its effect, as it became part of the background, something that was seen and heard, but not really observed or listened to.
Still, that was Central Command’s decision. Like most of Central Command’s decisions, it was questionable. Such as, for example, breaking our agreement with the Federation and hiding ships in the Betreka Nebula.
When the train arrived at the downtown stop proximate to Order headquarters, Entek disembarked and walked up the stairs. The streets were crowded with pedestrians of all ages at this late afternoon hour—parents with their children, who were just let out of school, workers leaving their offices to return home to their families, merchants selling their wares.
One woman stood at a cart, selling biscuits and assorted libations. Entek noted that she palmed something into the bag of one customer before handing it to him, and she and the customer exchanged what Entek viewed as a significant look. He committed their physical descriptions to memory and made a mental note to report them to the Order. If they were engaged in seditious acts, the Order needed to deal with it. If, on the other hand, they were engaged in legitimate covert business, they needed to be more discreet. True, Entek was trained to notice such things, but the merchant was still too obvious, as far as Entek was concerned.
Entek turned a corner into a dead-end street. Almost the minute he made the turn, the ambient noise level decreased and the number of people on the street dwindled. The fifty-story gray edifice at the end of the cul-de-sac was not one that many Cardassians went to willingly. Entek knew that this was not truly the Order’s stronghold, simply where they kept several administrative offices; it was the Order’s sole public face, necessary to give the citizenry a point of reference. Still, Entek had never actually set foot in this building before.
He approached the reception desk, the padd containing his full account of the Betreka Nebula incident in a duffel bag he carried over his shoulder.
“I was instructed to report,” he said simply.
The woman at the reception desk barely looked up from her computer. She pointed to the retinal scanner. Entek dutifully leaned into it, allowing the amber light to scan his eyes. Moments later, it verified his identity and ran that through the computer, searching for a match in the day’s appointments.
“You’re to report to Room 2552,” the receptionist said a moment later.
“Thank you,” Entek said. “I also wish to report a possible act of sedition.”
The receptionist activated a recording device, and Entek gave every detail he could about the biscuit vendor and her customer.
Then, content that he had done his duty to Cardassia, he proceeded to a turbolift and instructed it to take him to the twenty-fifth floor.
The office in question was in the center of the building, on the middle floor. Entek realized that this put it in probably the most secure above-ground part of the structure: its epicenter.
A woman with black-and-white hair sat at a workstation right outside the door marked with the numeral 2552. The moment Entek entered, she looked up, then activated an intercom. “He’s arrived,” was all she said.
“Send him in.”
She looked up at Entek with a bland expression. “You may go in.”
Nodding his assent, Entek walked up to the door, which opened at his approach.
Inside was a simple, undecorated office, with a small wooden desk—real wood, as far as Entek could tell, or as good a fake as made no visual difference; expensive either way—and a viewscreen on the eastern wall that showed a view of a swirling nebula. Entek realized after a moment that it was, in fact, the Betreka Nebula. He wondered if that was a deliberate choice.
The desk’s occupant was turned facing the bookcase that lined the southern wall behind the desk. As the door closed behind Entek, the chair whirled around—
—and Entek was barely able to control his reaction when he realized that he was in the office of Enabran Tain.
Entek fully expected to spend many years serving Cardassia in the Obsidian Order without ever being in the same room as the Order’s head. To have his first field assignment debriefing be conducted by the Order’s leader meant—
In truth, Entek had no idea what it meant.
“Have a seat,” Tain said in a surprisingly pleasant voice. Entek had expected someone more—well, frightening to be occupying this office. But Tain was a pudgy, unassuming Cardassian wearing a simple green outfit. Entek doubted he’d even notice Tain walking down the street.
Belatedly, Entek realized that it was probably a deliberate choice on Tain’s part.
He followed Tain’s instruction and sat in one of the two guest chairs. “Would you like to read my report?” he asked.
“Very much so, yes,” Tain said. “Though based on what I’ve heard from Central Command, I suspect I’m not going to like what I read.” Entek must have shown apprehension on his face at that, because Tain quickly added, “This doesn’t reflect on you, Entek. In fact, Central Command may well have blundered into a prime intelligence-gathering opportunity. This may well be a blessing in disguise.”
If it is, it’s a very good disguise, Entek thought, but was wise enough not to say aloud. Instead, he simply reached into his duffel and retrieved the padd. Tain took it from his hands, and keyed the display to show him the report.
While Tain perused Entek’s words, the young agent watched the swirl of the nebula. He hadn’t had much chance to observe the stellar phenomenon while on the Carthage—between his duties as Zarin’s toady and his undercover work, there simply was no time—so he took advantage of this opportunity to watch the stellar nursery at work. Entek had never been much of a stargazer, but he had to admit that the swirl of gases and electrons and protostars made for almost hypnotic viewing.
“An excellent report,” Tain finally said, setting the padd aside. “You’ve done well. Your observations on the Federation staff are especially useful.”
“I am only sorry I was unable to inform the Order of the fleet in the nebula.”
Tain shrugged. “There was little we could have done.”
“Central Command made us look like fools before the Federation.”
“Don’t underestimate the Federation, my young friend. They may appear soft and unworthy, but they have thrived. They are the true power in this part of the galaxy, and they have resources we can only begin to guess at. The very fact that they saw through Central Command’s deception shows that they are a force to be reckoned with.”
Entek could not help but blush with pride at the head of the Order calling him “friend.” He also had a question, but he did not feel that he should speak out of turn again.
Again, his emotions must have shown, for Tain prompted him. “You wish to pose a question.”
“Yes.” Entek waited for formal permission to speak, but Tain simply continued to stare at him. Deciding to take that as assent, he asked, “Do you think the Federation will truly be fair judges? They are allies with the Klingons, after all, and have no such ties with us.”
Tain laughed. “With any other government, I would share your concern, but the Federation is painfully honest and up-front in their dealings. That is both their greatest strength and their greatest weakness. And, like any strength or weakness, it is something that we can exploit.” He smiled. “Besides, as I said, this competition of theirs provides us with a prime opportunity. We will be able to observe the Klingons firsthand. They may seem like buffoons, but they have built one of the strongest empires in the quadrant. If we are to eventually conquer them, we need to know more about how they work, how they think. Sharing a planet with them will be ideal for that.”
Knowing it was presumptious, Entek nevertheless had to ask, “Do you wish me to return to Raknal?”
“No. As well as you’ve done here, you’re still too new for this sort of thing. I’d rather send a more experienced agent. Never fear,” he added quickly, “you’ve proven yourself a valuable resource to the Obsidian Order. I make use of my valuable resources.”
Entek beamed with pride.
“Return to your home. Your new supervisor will contact you with your next assignment within the week.”
New supervisor? That could only mean a promotion. The specifics would not be forthcoming, of course, but still.
Entek rose from the guest chair. “Thank you, sir.”
Tain smiled. “I’m simply putting you in a position to serve Cardassia better.”
* * *
“This is madness. Utter madness.”
Zarin silently agreed with Kell as he sipped his kanar. The two legates sat in Kell’s plush office along with Gul Monor. The office was over twenty meters squared, containing a huge desk, a full bar, and several couches and chairs. The east wall was taken up entirely with shelving containing padds, data chips, various odds and ends, and even a few codex books. The west wall was decorated with Lissepian paintings, which Zarin knew to be a passion of Kell’s. On either side of the door on the south wall were numerous medals, citations, commendations, and a holopicture that rotated images of Kell with assorted Cardassian celebrities and notables.
Most impressive of all, though, was the north wall, which was one giant picture window with a breathtaking view of the capital city. This, Zarin thought, will be my office someday. The first thing he planned to do was take down and burn those hideous Lissepian monstrosities. Kell had the aesthetic sense of a Ferengi …
Zarin and Monor were next to each other on an extremely comfortable urall-skin couch while Kell had parked himself in a huge, flared conformer chair that adjusted itself to the contours of the person occupying it. Zarin thought, perhaps unkindly, that it had to do a great deal of adjusting to conform to Kell’s rotund form.
“Absolutely,” Monor said. “We should be taking what we want, not jumping through hoops for inferiors. What’s next, the Federation telling us how to govern Bajor? We shouldn’t be letting them dictate terms to us.”
“Unfortunately,” Zarin said quickly before Monor went on, “we did violate the agreement. If we don’t agree to Dax’s proposal, we’ll risk antagonizing both the Federation and the Klingons.”
“We’ve already antagonized them,” Monor said, slamming his kanar glass onto the metal table that sat between the couch and Kell’s chair. “We’re not Ferengi, we shouldn’t be bargaining our way out of fighting. They want to take Raknal V, let ’em try, I say.”
“All things being equal, I’d agree with you, Monor,” Kell said. “But we don’t have much choice. The Council won’t authorize more funds for a conflict, and we can’t commit the resources.”
“Especially if it’s both the Federation and the Empire we have to deal with.” Zarin took another sip of his kanar.
“Bah,” Monor said. “The Federation is soft.”
“So is a gree worm, but if you poke it with a stick, it’ll squirt acid on your face.” Zarin leaned forward on the couch. “The Federation hasn’t lost a single war since its founding. I somehow doubt that we’re in a position to be the first to defeat them.”
“A cowardly attitude,” Kell said with disdain.
“No, a realistic one.” Zarin didn’t like what he was saying any more than Kell did, but he also knew that he was right. He just hoped Kell wasn’t stupid enough to let pride get in the way of common sense.
Kell let out a long sigh, and refilled his glass with more kanar from the large carafe in the center of the table. “Sadly, you’re right. For the moment at least, we’ll have to play along with this idiotic charade.”
“What about the Obsidian Order?” Zarin asked. He hadn’t been able to trace the Order agent in his delegation, but he just knew there was one there.
Shrugging, Kell asked, “What about them? They’ll probably send someone—or several someones—to the planet to spy on the Klingons. Let them. It’s probably better for all of us if we don’t know the specifics of what they’re doing. If they gather useful intelligence, it’ll be shared with us if we need it. If they get caught, we’ll be able to deny everything.”
“Not to mention the entertainment value,” Zarin said with a smile. “If they do get caught, I mean. I’ve heard stories about what Klingons do to spies. There are several people in the Order I’d like to see get that treatment.”
All three of them laughed at that. Zarin had no love for the Obsidian Order, and it came as no surprise to the legate that Kell and Monor felt the same. One of these days, he thought, we need to do away with those shadowy imbeciles once and for all. Cardassia is ill-served by their backstabbing ways. Perhaps when this office is mine, I’ll be able to implement that plan.
Kell stood up. “Monor, I hereby appoint you the prefect of the northern continent of Raknal V. The Sontok is to be your flagship. Whatever you need, requisition it from Zarin.”
Monor nodded. “If that’s what we have to do, then dammit all, that’s what we’ll do. That’s the problem with these young officers, they don’t know when to shut up and follow orders. In fact—”
“The important thing,” Kell said, cutting off yet another of Monor’s rants, for which Zarin was grateful, “is to make sure that we are victorious.”
“That won’t be as easy as it looks,” Zarin said. “Most of the zenite we need is on the southern continent.”
“Yes.” Kell smiled. “I have to give credit to that Trill ambassador—he put us in charge of what the Klingons want and the Klingons in charge of what we want. But we are Cardassians—Raknal V is ours, and we will not give it up. I am hereby instructing you both to do whatever it takes to ensure that we secure our claim to it. Am I understood?”
Zarin smiled. “Perfectly.”