HE MOVED THROUGH the space station without attracting notice, although he took notice of everything, everyone he passed. He had done this kind of thing many, many times before. He knew he was good. The fact gave him no particular pleasure or sense of pride. It was simply a fact.
He took the main turbolift out to the docking ring. The controls for the lift were marked in Cardassian characters. Everywhere he looked, there was some sign that the station had once been Cardassian, designed and built by Cardassians. It didn't matter that they had abandoned it, turned it over to Bajor. This place would always be Cardassian, even when all the signs and notices had been replaced by signs and notices in Bajoran and the Federation languages. Its spirit was Cardassian. Nothing they did could change that.
There was no ship docked at pylon two, and so no reason for anyone to be at the main cargo airlock. He did not intend for anyone to be killed or injured. It was not his purpose at this time. At other times, it had been.
Alone and unobserved, he took out the device. It fit easily into the palm of his hand. Small, inconspicuous, easy to overlook. He activated the arming switch and set it in place.
This was the first bomb.