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first place.
    The garresh’s face was set. Outside there were more shouts, but no further explosions, no more weapons fire. A hit-and-run, probably, like most of the terrorist attacks on Bajor. The rebels were cowards, they were fools with firepower, randomly attacking anyone and anything Cardassian. Natima hoped that no one in the settlement had been injured. There were families there, wives and children of soldiers, civilian scientists…
    They don’t care who they hurt, she thought, sitting back down, and finally felt a whisper of fear for herself. In another few moments, she, too, would have been at the conference.
    Thill had his head in his hands, was mumbling to himself, repeating something over and over. She leaned in, caught his plaintive whisper.
    “I don’t want to die, please the Prophets, please don’t let me die, I’m sorry I did it, I’m sorry about what I did, please don’t let me die…”
    Natima leaned away from him, unable to hide her own sneer. Praying to gods that didn’t exist, to absolve him for turning in a terrorist…so that he might be saved from another terrorist, one of his own kind. And outside, soldiers had surely been injured, perhaps killed. She’d tried to keep an open mind since coming to Bajor, but what a miserable, self-serving people she found them to be, never content, reckless and violent and primitive.
    She held her recorder tightly, waiting to be told it was safe.

2
    G il Damar watched Gul Dukat as the prefect surveyed the operations center from the upper ring that extended beyond the prefect’s office, overlooking the soldiers at work. Damar thought the gul looked pleased, and he thought of the great responsibility that went into commanding such a large and impressive facility. Dukat caught Damar’s eye then, and he ambled down the short staircase into the lower level, where Damar was filling out shift-end reports.
    “What do you think? Is your new assignment to your liking, Gil?”
    Damar nodded. “Yes, very much, sir. The station is…it’s not what I expected.”
    Dukat smiled and gazed around appreciatively. “Yes, the Nor-class is really quite breathtaking when you first see it in person. Seldom have elegance and power been fused together so effectively.”
    Damar worked quickly to finish up his reports, with the Gul standing nearby. It seemed to Damar that Dukat wanted to continue his conversation, and he wondered if it would be better to abandon his duties to speak to him, or to continue at his task. He could feel Dukat’s gaze on him as he worked.
    “Most of the shops already have leases pending,” he offered, continuing to file. “I believe the Promenade businesses will be a striking success.”
    Dukat broke into a smile. “I’m pleased to hear you say that. I admit, I had my doubts about the Bajoran merchants’ readiness to move their business to an orbital venue. But most seem to understand what a truly great opportunity this will be for Bajoran trade relations with other worlds. For those Bajorans smart enough to open businesses here, there is a lot of latinum to be made.”
    Dukat began to walk, and Damar hesitated at his station before the gul beckoned for him to follow. “Let’s have a look around the Promenade, shall we?”
    “I…Yes, sir.”
    The two left ops, heading for the station’s center of commerce. It was a number of levels below operations, part of Terok Nor’s upper core. As the lift began its descent, Gil Damar marveled at the construction techniques that had gone into assembling this station in such a short time. A third of the materials had come light-years to be assembled here, much of the components prefabricated elsewhere and systematically fastened into place.
    The Promenade was a tri-level ring of commercial spaces and observation decks, which also housed security and the station’s infirmary. Several shopkeepers were already beginning to set up their wares to offer to the Cardassian soldiers and to the vast numbers of