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Reyar received a transmission from his daughter regarding a matter that she felt concerned the Order. One of our tracers flagged a few terms it felt warranted our attention, but the second check found nothing of immediate interest in the transmission and filed it away to be reviewed at another time. I was the one tasked with reviewing that message to determine its relevance, and I learned something that I found to be a bit curious.”
    “And what might that be?” Esad’s tone indicated that he was indulging his old friend.
    “It seems that his daughter was the person who gave authorization for our object to be removed from the science ministry’s storeroom, the last time it was taken out—before it became classified and then misplaced.”
    Esad nodded, but his expression still held no interest.
    “That last encounter with the object coincided with an outcropping of rumor surrounding the Oralians.”
    Esad made a face now, expressing his disgust regarding the followers of the so-called Oralian Way. The ancient faith had supposedly experienced a resurgence in the past decade or so, a surprise to many who had previously accepted that the followers had all been killed in the settlements on Bajor, where they had been relocated prior to the annexation of that world. Modern Cardassians were not sad to see them go, for their religion was an impediment to progress, a throwback to a time of foolish superstition and a cumbersome theocratic government. Recent reports indicating that groups of Oralians had begun to meet in secret was puzzling and perplexing to Central Command. Many believed that these groups were simply comprised of young, rebellious people, experimenting with forbidden nostalgia that they did not actually understand.
    “Enabran Tain is fairly certain that the rumors surrounding the Oralian Way are just that—rumors,” Esad said.
    “They may be only rumors, but even if they are—the inception of those rumors coincided with the disappearance of that Orb.”
    Esad nodded slowly. “Have you reviewed the files regarding the Ministry of Science’s records on the object?”
    “Yes. The last scientist to handle the object was a woman named Miras Vara. I believe she was the one who misfiled it in the first place.”
    “The ministry claimed that it was misfiled accidentally. They are not known for their efficiency, as anyone can attest—”
    Abor interrupted the other agent. “Miras Vara disappeared at the same time as the object. She did not misfile it by accident, Kutel. She took pains to hide it. Now, why do you suppose she would have done that?”
    “I have no idea,” the other agent replied. “But if you have a theory, I suggest you enlighten me, because I am sure that Tain would love to hear it.”
    Abor hesitated, deciding how much he wanted to elaborate. “She is affiliated with the Oralians,” he said. “I am sure of it.”
    Esad chortled lightly. “Your certainty will not go far with Tain. But if you can prove it, Dost, then I suspect Tain might have reason to congratulate you.”
    “I don’t want congratulations,” Abor said. “I want to be back in the field, where I belong.”
    Esad smiled. “Well. I will let Tain know of your, ah, suspicions, and we’ll see what he has to say.”
    Abor returned his smile with cordiality. “I will look forward to his reply.”

2
    T hrax watched a string of the little orange-hued people as they unloaded the shipping containers from the open maw of their ship’s hull, making fairly efficient work of it, but Terok Nor’s security chief was wary of them nonetheless. Under his gaze, one of the creatures broke away from the others and strode across the cargo bay toward him.
    “I am DaiMon Gart,” said the oily little man, indistinguishable from the rest of his crew.
    “DaiMon,” Thrax acknowledged curtly, wondering if he might have met this particular Ferengi before—their names were as similar as their ugly faces and their loudly patterned outfits.