They moved, and in Quark’s mind everything began to happen at once. Jack drew himself up to his full height. Gus ducked his head, leaning forward to spit in the direction of Quark’s shoes. Quark felt his throat suddenly go as dry as a desert and yet sweat ran in rivers down his neck. There was a moment of sheer panic just before he closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger.

There were no cries of alarm, no moans, no pleas for mercy, only silence. Quark slowly opened his eyes to find absolutely nothing had changed. He blinked in confusion at the two figures on the transporter pad.

"Jesus, Fark." drawled Gus. "Next time you try to shoot someone you might want to make damn sure the friggin guns powered up first."

"Come on, Gus," said Jack turning his back on the Ferengi and bending to lift Ognij. "Grab his feet and let’s get this poor fella somewhere he can rest."

Gus gently nudged the pool of amber liquid that was Buck and gave three short whistle blasts. "Come on Buck, get off your butt and give us a hand," he said.

Quark stood silently on the bridge, scratching his head and staring at the useless weapon in his hand. He never noticed Jack and Gus leaving with Ognij in tow. He never noticed as the pool of liquid shifted and reformed as the now familiar figure of Buck, who upon seeing the armed Ferengi made a sound somewhere between a snort and a laugh before leaving the bridge.

"I am," said Marshall ignoring the offer of a handshake. "And who might you be, sir?"

The youth lowered his hand with a slight smile, as though he had received the exact response he had expected. "Gustov Zyntal, Lieutenant. Planetary Prefecture of Police. Although," he said with the air of bestowing a great secret, "Last week we were called something else and next week will most likely be called something entirely different. At your service, sir."

"Honored sir, I am sure. However, when I contacted your superiors I merely requested permission to access the records of the investigation in progress and to interview witnesses, if any. I did not request, nor do I require an escort."

"I am aware of that, sir," said Zyntal falling into step beside Marshall. "But my superiors feel otherwise to the extent that should something happen to you, I would pay the consequences."

"I see. Very well, Mr. Zyntal, far be it from me to question the wisdom of your superiors."

"Thank you, sir. Quite frankly, our crime rate hasn’t increased significantly since the end of the war, but our arrest record has plummeted since the rules of the Cardassian justice system have changed to be more in line with Federation worlds. We’ve been resisting accepting administrative assistance from the Federation and it would look very bad for us if something were to happen to a Starfleet officer while here conducting an investigation."

Marshall paused once outside the doors of the Transportation Station, his eyes taking a moment to adjust once again to natural sunlight. The area around the Station was a hive of activity. It was clear the Station and the numerous warehouses surrounding her had been built with new materials, however, the ruins of countless other buildings remained, there not being enough equipment or manpower to spare in the clearing of property. On the right, an army of black birds occupied themselves among the wreckage, apparently content to wait for something more interesting to come along. Marshall was about to comment on them when, as is the way with birds, one lone voice cried out, and suddenly the sky was black as the entire flock took flight, all chattering at once.

He picked his way delicately across the field of rubble near the Transport Station. Of course, in the case of Carrin Levet, there would be no bones for anyone to pick over. No, Levet was doomed from the beginning. Only dead men sought redemption and Levet had gone to Cardassia with some ill conceived notion that in so doing he could, in some way, atone for the past. Redemption be damned, thought Rem. Redemption, forgiveness, atonement - all trappings of the weak minded. There existed only what was, what is, and what will be. No explanations, no apologies, no regrets. Cardassia be damned and may she rot in a hell of her own making.

Levet be damned for that matter. He had arrived on Cardassia knowing full well that Levet would be gone long before he entered orbit. He also knew that if they had found Levet, it wouldn’t be long before the Centurions would be able to trace him to Bajor. Centurion agents were most likely on their way to Bajor at this moment - never realizing their quarry was hiding in plain sight, like a rose among the rubble.

Two days. That’s all the grace he required. Two days until the next safe transport arrived and he would vanish into the dark bosom of the Orion Syndicate. Two days. He carefully watched the activity around the transport station and his eye caught a familiar figure in Starfleet black and gold. Marshall. He smiled with the sudden realization that his long held plans need not go unrealized. Oh, yes, two days would be plenty of time.

"Not good," he replied with a shake of his head. "Lucky for him, it looks as if he got some kinda medical attention on the station, which is a damn sight more than I could give him. Other than that, only thing I can recommend is lettin him rest up."

"Guess there’s no chance he’ll tell us what happened?" mused Jack indicating Buck, who upon entering the room, had refused to budge from Ognij’s side.

Gus shrugged. "Don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?"

"Need not," said Ognij, his voice weak. "Awake I am, but cloudy most memory."

"Hey now," said Gus placing a hand on Ognij’s shoulder to keep him from sitting up. "Rest easy there. You’ve taken a fair beatin."

"Yes," agreed Ognij. "Grrrgor and Zeet."

"Grgor and Zit?" asked Jack. "What the hell did they want with you? You don’t have anything to do with their type."

"Not me want they. Ship they want. Ship this they want."

"What?" asked Gus. "What the hell do they want this ship for?"

"Ognij remember something else…Kvark," said Ognij. "Remember Kvark something mentions Grgor yes. Destroying Jersey Lilly most regrets but thusly must Kvark die."

"Die?" asked Quark. "You look in pretty good shape to me." He entered the room carrying a tray of coffee mugs. "Gentlemen, it appears we got off on the wrong foot….Why are you looking at me like that?"

His quarry left the main boulevard and turned into a side street. Rem left his perch and followed keeping well out of their line of sight. The hunter and the hunted. It was an age old game. He hunted Marshall and in return was hunted by others. Centurions, what a waste of power! Had they learned nothing? Had they no concept of how universal his plans were? No, they were too narrow minded to realize that they had the same goals, just different means to achieve them. Too tied up in tradition, to see beyond the childish cold war they waged against themselves. They were as useless and as stagnant as those they claimed to reject. They refused to act and yet condemned those who did. Twice before. Twice before he had attempted the downfall of the Dominion and twice before he had failed thanks to their interference. This time he would not fail again.

"But surely…"

"No sir, it all fits the pattern. Your Mr. Levet was a loner with no real friends or acquaintances to speak of. He held his current job only since the end of the war. His past is rather sketchy - his war record rather generic. What your reports do not mention, but I will offer to you anyway is that prior to his disappearance Mr. Levet will have received a package the contents of which will turn out to be a small piece of plastic with a red letter C embossed on it. A stranger may or may not have been seen in the vicinity of Mr. Levet’s home just prior to his disappearance and that stranger will appear to bear an uncanny resemblance to the former head of security of DS Nine. You look pained, Mr. Zyntal, is something the matter?"

"No. It’s just that the reports are not entirely accurate."

"Ah. Why am I not surprised?"

"There was a witness to the fact that a package was indeed delivered to Levet just prior to his disappearance. His landlady, who being of the old school, opened the package and read the message being careful to seal it back up before Levet came back home."

"And?"

"It is as you said, a small rectangular piece of plastic with a red C embossed on one side."

"And on the other? What was on the other side of the card?"

"I’m sorry, I assumed you knew. On the other side of the card is the word "justice"."

"Justice," mused Marshall. "Well, that’s as clear as mud. Justice for who? Justice for what? Are you familiar with the Terran term chasing your tail?"

"Yes. We have a similar phrase."

"Well, that is exactly what I appear to be doing, Mr. Zyntal. I suppose your witness, being of the old school also managed to notice a stranger hanging about?"

"Yes. But here our stories diverge. The stranger hanging around prior to Levet’s disappearance was not DS Nine’s former head of security."

"No?"

"No sir. The stranger seen just prior to Mr. Levet’s disappearance was DS Nine’s current head of security. It was you, Mr. Marshall."

"So you keep saying," remarked Jack. "And yet they arranged for you to be on our ship."

"Granted. But I’m telling you I never met them. I was just instructed to go a certain air lock on arrival at DeLok Station and that’s it. End of story."

"Problem is, if for some reason, they wanted us dead, all they had to do was follow us out into open space and start shooting. The Jersey Lilly had some defensive systems, but not enough to withstand an all out assault. So why would someone just decide to blow her up at the same time you just happened to come along?"

"I have no idea!"

"Unless," mused Gus. "Jack, remember back on the station when Grgor said that the Boss chose us because we were the only Alpha…"

"Alpha’s in the Quadrant. Yes…I’m sorry, I don’t follow."

"Don’t ya see? It all figures, Jack. Lookie here. A ship blows up killin the crew. It’s possible. It happens. The Jersey Lilly’s an old ship and she’s been known to have some problems. Fair enough. And her captain and crew ain’t from around here so there ain’t nobody goin to be askin too many questions about that. Now, say you want to kill a visitor from the other side of the galaxy. Someone who…"

"Someone," said Jack. "Who’s brother’s the Grand Nagus and he’s got all these friends in high places, who are likely to ask questions."

"Exactly," replied Gus. "So when someone notices Mr. Grand Nagus’s brother is missin and they come a callin demandin an explanation, the fellas behind all this can look them straight in the eye and say they done all they could to make Mr. Grand Nagus’s brother here as comfortable as possible accordin to his station. Even went so far as to arrange transportation with a trusted captain and crew who’s reputation was impeccable…."

"Especially a captain and crew who could in no way be traced as having dealings with the Zunigian Triads."

"Only there’s this one little problem…"

"The ship was not as sound as they had supposed and it blew up - right there in front of God and the whole goddamn DeLok station." Jack slapped himself up side the head. It was all so simple.

"A truly beautiful plan," said Gus. "I’m gonna kill the sonofabitch who thought of it, but a beautiful plan nonetheless."

"Okay. Okay!" remarked Quark. "You made your point, but I still don’t know why anyone would want me dead. I’ve never heard of the Zunigian Triads. Nor do I have any idea why once they, whoever they are, thought I was dead, they would go to so much trouble to track down an abandoned Jem’Hadar ship."

"Well, earlier you wanted to talk," said Jack. "Now talk. What the hell are you supposed to be doing in this end of the galaxy anyway?"

"I told you. I’m here laying the groundwork for a deal."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Jack waived him on. "What deal exactly?"

"I have a seller, on Bajor, who has excess ships to sell. I, through my contacts here, was lining up a buyer."

"Okay," said Gus. "Lemme guess, your client on Bajor obtained these excess ships through questionable means?"

"It’s my policy to never ask," Quark assured them. "But if I were to hazard a guess I would say so. I mean, why else would he go to so much trouble unless he wanted to unload them far enough away from home that no one would ever turn up asking awkward questions."

"Who’s your seller?" asked Jack.

"Rem Keshwan. He’s a minor functionary in the Bajoran Trade Ministry." Quark caught the glance that passed between Jack and Gus. "What? Do you know him?"

"You could say that," said Jack. "Only he wasn’t a minor functionary with the Bajoran government when we last saw him."

"He was an up an comin member of the Orion Syndicate," said Gus. "So, answer me this, what’s a respectable bartender doing working for the Orions?"

"Don’t worry Mr. Marshall," Gustov Zyntal assured him. "My superiors are quite convinced it was not you behind Mr. Levet’s disappearance, but an impostor. Through independent sources we were able to confirm you were on DS Nine at the time of the incident and as soon as you beamed down to the surface, your sensor logs were copied by my colleagues."

"I suppose you managed to take tissue samples as well?"

"If you were in my shoes, wouldn’t you do the same?"

Marshall had to laugh. "Indeed I would, sir. Indeed I would." He suddenly sat forward in his chair. "Now, as amusing as this game is, do you not agree it is time we got down to business?"

"Indeed," replied Zyntal, suddenly looking much older and a good deal more mature than Marshall had previously thought. " Why do you suppose after previously impersonating Odo, your quarry decided to suddenly change tactics and appear as you?"

"I have no idea other than wanting to get my attention, which they already had although they may not be aware of it. The only other reason I can think of is someone wanted to get me off the station for awhile."

"That would make sense. I never had the pleasure of meeting Odo, but there are still quite a few people around who remember him from the days of the Annexation. You might want to consider that as well."

"Annexation? One of the effects of serving on a Bajoran station, I imagine, but I have never heard it referred to as the Annexation."

"Occupation. Annexation. It depends on what side of the fence you reside now doesn’t it?"

"True," agreed Marshall. "Tell me, Mr. Zyntal. What do you know of an organization called the Centurion?"

"Centurion?" asked Zyntal with a puzzled expression on his face. "Not much. Charitable organization. Lucky for us, very active in war relief efforts throughout the Quadrant. Don’t run across them much in my line of work out side the occasional theft of Centurion supplied materials to be sold on the Black Market. Why?"

"I believe that they are connected in some way, but for the life of me I can’t put the pieces together."

"Perhaps I can be of assistance?"

"Perhaps."

And business was definitely looking up. With Marshall out of the way and Kira busy entertaining her Changeling lover, Keshwan would have no trouble moving ships, men and weapons through the wormhole. He did have one regret. He would have liked to have been on Bajor when the first ships went through, but that couldn’t be helped. It was all up to General Torias now, not that Torias had any idea what he was involved in. Bajorans were so gullible. All you had to do was invoke the prophets, wave the flag, or, better yet, start counting the latinum and they would literally fall all over themselves to do your bidding.

He turned the safety lock on the rifle to the off position and tucked the butt of the weapon firmly against his shoulder. He rested his left elbow on a bit of broken wall in order to steady his aim. It would be all over for Marshall in just a second. He centered the cross hairs on a spot right between Marshall’s eyes. His right index finger rested lightly on the trigger, he drew a breath, held it, and on the exhale… Keshwan heard a noise behind him, every fiber in his being suddenly taught, there was a flash of light as a shower of sparks erupted from the wall beside him.

"They what?" asked Jack.

"Nothing."

"Ifin you want to get outta this alive," suggested Gus. "You’d better tell us everything. Even this little bit of nothin."

"Okay," said Quark throwing up his hands. "The Orions have tried to kill me before. But it was a long time ago and they never made a second attempt."

"Until now."

"Until now, but it just doesn’t make any sense that they would go to all this trouble over something that happened years ago. It’s not like they haven’t had the opportunity to kill me before now."

"Well," said Gus. "Maybe it ain’t got nothin to do with your past indiscretions, maybe it’s got to do with this current deal. Who’s your buyer on this side of the fence?"

"Some guy named Rusawa. Supposed to be some big shot shipping magnate…. What?"

Jack and Gus were laughing, but it was the kind of laugh Quark had come to dread. It was the bitter, mirthless laugh of a man who has lost everything in a single spin of the dabo wheel just seconds before you present him with his bar tab. This was not good, thought Quark and to make matters worse, he appeared to be the only one who could hear Buck softly repeating the three syllables of the name over and over to himself as though reciting a mantra.

"Goddamn, Snark," said Gus. "You take the cake, that’s for sure."

"Will somebody tell me what’s so funny?"

"Rusawa is the Triad of Triads. The boss of bosses. Grgor and Zit work for him, for christsake."

"Did it ever occur to you," asked Jack. "To wonder why someone who owns over half of the Zunigian Territories would want ships from the other side of the galaxy when he has all the ships he could possibly want on this side?"

"It’s not my policy to ask. The man wants ships, I can supply them. That’s all I need to know. Well, that and if he has enough money to pay for the merchandise. Now, I’ll accept that maybe - just maybe - the Orions finally got around to settling the score, but that still does not explain why, according to you, someone who has access to all the ships he could possibly want would go to so much trouble to get his hands on this particular Jem’Hadar ship, now does it?"

"He’s right there, Jack," said Gus.

"Gus, do you remember what you said when you talked me into this cockamamie scheme in the first place?"

"Hell, Jack, even I don’t pay attention to half the things I say."

"You said that the reason someone left the ship abandoned was that whatever they had removed was worth more to them than the ship."

"Well, sure, it made sense at the time…"

"Well, what if they were wrong? What if they only thought they had removed it, when it was here all along?"

"It’s possible. But what could it be? We went over this ship with a fine tooth comb and there ain’t nothin here worth a killin someone over."

"But what if it’s not a thing," asked Quark jerking his head in Buck’s direction. "But a who?"

"I think," he said, as though it were the most reasonable request in the galaxy. "That you should kiss me."

"Are you insane?" It had been like this ever since Marshall had left the station and Kira had found herself thrust into the false Odo’s company. (She couldn’t help it, no matter how hard she tried, he was always the false Odo to her.) She was convinced that if he were to just shut up, she could convince herself that he was nothing more than a pleasant hallucination. But no, he insisted on taking advantage of Marshall's absence to, in his own words, get to know her better. To improve their working relationship. In other words, to drive her crazy.

"Not at all. Colonel, it’s not as though I want to do this, because believe me I do not…"

Guy really knows how to offer a compliment thought Kira trying to focus on the report in front of her and not her companion.

"It’s just that I feel our working relationship is being complicated…."

Complicated. Kira shook her head. There’s that word again.

"…by all these feelings that keep popping up. Speaking for myself, I find I am having to deal with all these memories and feeling that keep coming to the surface that are not mine."

Odo? Her heart lurched in her chest. Damn you, Odo for ever agreeing to this charade in the first place.

"If we were to just simply kiss and get it out of the way, I believe we can get on with things and no longer have these disturbing urges getting in the way."

Fine, she thought, slamming the data padd onto the desk. She stood up and walked around the desk. "You want a kiss? I’ll give you a kiss."

She leaned forward, grabbing him by the front of his tunic and pulled him to his feet. Sliding her left hand behind his head, she pulled his face towards hers and locked her lips on his. Odo, she thought, if you are in there, I’m sorry. She placed her right hand against his chest and allowed her fingers to seek out a spot just below his left breast and slightly under his arm. Folding her fingers so that the first two were locked and upright, she plunged them into his flesh as far as she could and then with a twist of the wrist plunged them deeper still.

She had learned of this soft spot years ago, quite by accident, during a battle drill back in the days when DS Nine had been under constant threat of Dominion attack. Odo had never spoken of exactly what it did to a changeling when stabbed there, but he did request she never do it again without giving him fair warning.

The Odo before her now uttered the same small gasp, his eyes rolling slightly up in his head. The door to her office opened to reveal Commander Bryan Landis, who upon entering, took one look at his commanding officer and her guest and started to back out of the office muttering apologies.

Oh, thought Kira, peering at her first officer over Odo’s shoulder, this just keeps getting better and better.

"No need to apologize, Mr. Landis," she called, pushing Odo back into his chair. "I take it those are the reports I asked for?"

"Yes, sir." Landis stepped forward hesitantly, keeping a close eye on the changeling, who just sat stiffly in his chair moaning softly. "Is, ah, he going to be okay?"

"Who? Odo?" asked Kira. "Of course. He’s just learning to deal with a couple of - disturbing urges - that’s all. Dismissed."

She took her seat with a sigh. "I don't know about you," she remarked to her companion, "But I feel much better."

"I can see that you drunken fool," replied Rem. "How soon before you’re ready to depart?"

"Depart? Any time, I guess, but you might want to take a look at this before you make any hasty decisions." He held up a small envelope. Rem just sat there looking at him, making no effort to take the offered missive. Ginyu waived the envelope at Rem. "Orders I’m guessing. It could be important." Oh, to hell with it, thought Ginyu tossing the envelope on the table. "Makes no difference to me," he said rising from the table. "I need another drink."

Rem sat and stared at the envelope. He knew exactly what it contained. What he could not fathom is how they knew what his plans were. He had sensed their presence right before they stopped him from killing Marshall, but he had been able to escape quickly enough. He was sure he had not been followed. His thoughts flew over the events of the last few days and he could think of nothing that would indicate that he was being watched or followed. He knew for certain he had spoken to no one about his plans to depart on the Kohlanese transport. Damn them. Damn all Centurions to hell and back. He took a long hard look at the Kohlanese captain, who leaned drunkenly against the bar, totally unaware he was being scrutinized. Right then, thought Rem, there’s nothing else for it.

"Oh, I could think of hundreds of uses," mused Quark. "Possibly thousands."

"Kidnapping, extortion, who knows?" said Jack. "It may even have something to do with all those rumors we heard on T'ruh. I don’t intend on going back to TorQuros IV to find out, do you?"

"What rumors on T'ruh?" asked Gus. "I was here on the ship, remember?"

"It wasn’t anything worth mentioning. Some buzz about the Triads planning to go to war with the Dominion. You know how paranoid the border worlds get."

"Well, it looks like they had good reason in this case. You don’t suppose Rusawa was planning on using Buck as a bargaining chip?"

"Maybe," said Quark. "They plan on taking him, infecting him with a deadly virus, and then letting him go, so he can infect the entire link?"

Jack and Gus stopped to stare at Quark as though he were a much loved, but profoundly stupid child. "So," said Gus. "What do we do now, Jack? We can’t take on the entire Triad organization, even if we do have some serious firepower."

"Well, you’re right, Gus. We’re going to have to get the hell out of here, but we’ve got to find someplace safe to leave Ognij first. He’s done enough."

"More than enough. Jack, what about Buck? I mean, no place is gonna be safe for him in this sector."

"No. We’ll just have to see if we can’t find some place to set him down on the way. Some place closer to the Dominion Border where his chances of being found by his own kind are better."

"I’m obliged, Jack," said Gus. "I….."

They were interrupted by the proximity alert klaxon coming abruptly to life.

"Lilly," commanded Jack. "Report."

"A Zunigian raider has appeared on long range sensors. Her shields are up and weapons powered."

"Shit," said Gus as they ran for the bridge.

His thoughts were interrupted by a hail from the surface.

"Good morning, sir," said Zyntal. "Permission to come aboard."

"Granted," replied Marshall wondering what the hell this was in aide of. He turned to find the young Cardassian smiling as he held up a padd. "I found some additional information regarding the Centurion Organization. I thought I’d better deliver it in person rather than risk sending it over an unsecured channel."

"Very wise, I’m sure," said Marshall as he took the padd and began thumbing through the information.

"I would also like to take this opportunity to say how much I’ve enjoyed working with you and to offer an apology."

"An apology?" asked Marshall. "For what?"

"For this," said Zyntal producing a phaser and shooting Marshall.

Chapter 7