THERE WAS A NEAR-RIOT outside the DS-Nine security office as the Cardassian deck patrolmen were finally being released from detention. Security officers were forced to intervene between the sullen ex-prisoners and the jeering, mocking crowd of Bajorans that clearly meant to escort them all the way to the airlock, and possibly out of it the hard way.
O'Brien managed to slip inside to wait until Odo had finished processing the releases. He found Major Kira monitoring the situation.
"So, I see Gul Marak finally paid up."
Kira said irritably, "Bloody Cardassians come onto this station with their weapons, flout our regulations, abuse our citizens. Then they think they can just pay a fine and walk away."
O'Brien blinked, a little taken aback by her tone. "I thought it was Commander Sisko who imposed the fines."
Kira sighed and ran her fingers back through her hair, standing it on end. "Sorry I snapped, Chief. It hasn't really been a good day."
"Not another bomb?"
She shook her head. "Posters."
"Posters? You mean, like the one on Garak's shop?"
"Exactly. On the Promenade, near the VIP quarters, in the turbolifts." She punched a display into her padd and showed it to him. He read:
BAJORAN BLOOD, BAJORAN SPACE.
WHERE WAS THE FEDERATION WHEN WE WERE DYING?
ALIENS OFF BAJOR!
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
"Bloody hell!" he murmured. "You've got to trace these?"
Kira frowned at the hint of pity in his voice. "It's my job." She glanced at the monitor again, then got to her feet. "Well, it looks like the show's over. The Cardassians are back on their ship, and the merchants have their money in their pockets." She looked at O'Brien again. "Did you want to see me about something?"
"Actually, I was waiting to talk to Odo. But maybe I'll come back later."
Ben Sisko had been expecting the call from the Swift Striker, ever since he authorized the release of the Cardassians from detention.
"Yes, Gul Marak? What is it?"
"All right, Sisko! I've paid your blood money! Now, what are you going to do about it?"
"What do you mean, Marak? Your men have been released already."
"I mean, when are you going to start allowing Cardassians back on DS-Nine?"
"I plan to discuss that question with my security officers later today. I'm afraid there's a great deal of tension on the station since that incident. I don't want any violence."
Marak leaned forward with a menacing expression. "Are you telling me that I'm not going to be able to come onto the station? I have legitimate business with several ambassadors here, Sisko. Am I going to have to tell them the Starfleet commander won't allow them to speak with me?"
Sisko sighed. "I'll inform security that you and your aides are permitted onto the station. As for liberty for your men—we'll see about that."
"Fine!" the Cardassian commander snapped. "Now, what about that deserter? You assured me that your security would be taking care of the matter. So, what have they done about it? Where is he?"
"I've assigned my chief of security to investigate the matter, personally. He's found nothing, not a trace. You claim you have witnesses who've seen him, but who are they? What did they say?"
Marak bared his teeth. "What kind of farking limp excuses are you trying to hand me now? Maybe you need a new security chief! Maybe this station needs a new commander! What good are any of you, if you can't find a fugitive stowaway after all this time. Well, I'm warning you, I won't just let this matter drop! If you can't do the job, I will!"
"You know, Gul, you seem to be awfully eager to have your men come onto this station. I wonder why that is?"
"What in the last cold hell are you talking about, Sisko?"
"I mean, maybe this is just an excuse to get more of your men onto DS-Nine. For whatever reason."
Marak's gloved fist hit his console with such an impact that Sisko distinctly heard the shattering of components. The Cardassian's face had turned an alarming shade, and the veins in his neck pulsed visibly with rage. "I've told you—this man is a traitor! If you're behind this—"
"I'm not behind anything, Marak!"
"Do you want to see the body of the officer he killed? Or the sentry he assaulted? Would that satisfy you? Look, Sisko, I'm warning you for the last time—"
"Don't threaten me, Marak!"
The two commanders were both standing, glaring at each other's image. But it was Sisko, this time, who finally backed down. "All right, I'm doing everything I can to find your fugitive. After all, I don't want a murderer at large on my station. But if you really want him apprehended, it might help if you gave us a little bit more information."
"What kind of information?"
"About these witnesses, for one thing."
"That report is confidential."
"And more details about this man. His background. Dammit, we don't even know what he's supposed to look like! Send us his personnel records, and we might have something to go on!"
"Cardassian service files are restricted."
"In other words, you refuse to cooperate. And we're still expected to believe you?"
"Just let my men search that station, and we'll find him, I guarantee that."
"Out of the question," Sisko snapped. "Now, if you don't have anything else—"
But Gul Marak's image abruptly winked off the screen.
Sisko dropped back into his chair. "Dammit" was all he said.
"Well, Chief O'Brien! Are you feeling lucky today?"
The engineer dropped into a seat at the bar. "No thanks, Quark. Just feeling thirsty. How about a cold synthale?"
"Any special kind?" the Ferengi asked smugly. "Name your favorite poison, Chief!"
"How about an Irish ale?"
"Coming right up, one Irish ale! Straight from Old Ireland on Earth—or as close as you can't tell the difference!"
O'Brien sipped the brew when Quark brought it, and praised the quality as it deserved. In fact, it was at least as good as the glass he'd had in the Replimat. Which was just one more piece of evidence … for what, he wasn't quite sure.
"Your nephew doesn't happen to be working around here today, does he?"
"Nog? Ah, no, he's somewhere else at the moment. Why?"
"Oh, I'd just like to talk to him for a minute."
Quark was unenthusiastic. "Well, Chief, I don't know, I haven't seen him for the last few hours. You know how boys are." He laughed insincerely.
"I know. But my wife made me promise I'd try to get him back to school."
"School. That might be all very well for your kids, Chief, but the things Nog needs to learn are right here."
"That could be," O'Brien admitted reluctantly, "but I did promise Keiko."
"Ah, the lovely Keiko," Quark murmured with a lascivious glint in his eye, but quickly, under her husband's glare, he amended his remark. "And a fine teacher, I'm sure. Just what Nog needs. When I see him, I'll tell him what you said, all right?"
O'Brien sipped his ale. That boy Nog had something to do with whatever was going on. And Quark was hiding something. He knew it. But—what?