Night of the Wolves - By S. D. Perry & Britta Dennison Page 0,2

One-quarter impulse.”

Ocett pressed her comcuff and alerted the engineer in transport. “Gil Kretech, this is Dalin Ocett. Sensors have registered a small object of unknown composition. As soon as we’re within range, you’re to beam this object directly to the decon chamber so that it can be scanned and logged into the ship’s database.”

Her request was met with a brief pause. “Dalin, if I may say so, our mission is not one of exploration. We are not a science vessel. I recognize that curiosity is a uniquely feminine trait, but—”

Ocett cut him off swiftly. Males never had to tolerate such impudence. “I would advise you to forget my sex and carry out my orders, Gil,” she snapped.

His answer held the appropriate measure of meekness. “I will report back to you as soon as transport is complete, Dalin.”

“See that you do. Bridge out.”

Twenty metrics later, Ocett and Veda stood before the decontamination lab’s observation window while the gil deftly manipulated the remote instruments that were separating the object into its constituent parts: an unadorned, roughly cylindrical capsule that turned out to be a stasis apparatus of some kind, and a small spherical module. But while the alien technology was of considerable interest, it was the contents of the sphere to which Veda directed Ocett’s attention.

“There’s nothing like it in the database, just like the container,” Veda said as he studied the results of his new scans, which were flashing before them on the window as he worked. “But there’s no question that your suspicion about the reading was correct, Dalin. The liquid is organic.”

“Organic,” Ocett repeated. She looked to the transparent sphere and considered its contents—a small quantity of amber hued liquid with the consistency of dark kanar, shimmering subtly in the artificial lights. She could not tear her eyes away for a moment, trying to determine—did she just see a ripple? A slight movement? Or was it only the effect of the containment field? “Is it—?”

“It’s inconclusive. But some of the scans suggest that this substance could be—or maybe could have once been—some kind of life-form.”

Ocett was pleased, for it seemed that she’d chosen wisely. Evidently they’d come across something of interest, after all. No one would complain if it proved valuable.

“Continue your analysis,” she said, her tone cool. “We’ll turn the substance and your findings over to the science team stationed on Bajor after we return to base.”

“Yes, Dalin.”

Smiling to herself as she made her way back to the bridge, Ocett was gratified to finally hear a touch of genuine respect in the gil’s quick reply.

OCCUPATION YEAR NINETEEN

2346 (Terran Calendar)

1

They stood at the apex of the Janitza mountain range in the northernmost sector of the continent, the humid, cold air heavy with the scents of pine and nyawood trees. ThirdTier Gil Corat Damar turned to take in the verdant abundance all around, then turned again, his expression a mix of hunger and awe. The new prefect of Bajor stood behind the junior officer, watching, remembering the first time he’d seen Bajor for himself. He’d been a much younger man then, blinking around himself in wonder.

From their vantage point, the valleys far below were patched over with ovals of colorful farmland, fading into wild tangles of jungle and jagged forests. The shadows of moving clouds cast a traveling pallor along the hilly meadows, disappearing where the densely woven carpet of trees appeared almost black.

Dukat could plainly see Damar’s thoughts as he took in the scenery; in his most lavish dreams, Damar could not have imagined a world like this. It was so far a cry from the cracked and sandy plains of their homeworld, with its hot, erose mountains of obsidian jutting from the barren land. Cardassian soil was good for little more than harvesting rocks, or fashioning into clay for making brittle pots. To see this bold illustration of color, of green and blue and rich red dirt, was quite literally breathtaking.

“So—tell me what you think of Bajor,” Dukat said.

Damar hesitated, unable to look away from the lush panorama. Dukat was pleased with the hesitation, a sign of careful consideration, perhaps a weighing of words to find those that would most impress the gil’s commander. Dukat had taken a special interest in Damar, was grooming him to be his own personal assistant, and knew that Damar understood the honor of being so singled out. In truth, pickings had been lean; today’s Cardassian soldier, while certainly still the best trained in the quadrant, left something to be desired in an