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“And what about the Hoard?”

Brant looked at me uneasily. “Ah yes. The Hoard.”

I pressed on. “Did you unearth it somewhere in this universe, as the mercenaries seemed to believe? Or was it, say, an enticement you dangled as part of your recruitment drive?”

Abby regarded him. “Is it here, Richard?”

Her brother smiled. “It is indeed. Just a couple of star systems from where old Dujonian left it two hundred years ago.” He turned to me. “You’d like to see it, I suppose?”

I confess I felt a thrill of anticipation. “I would,” I told him.

Abby’s brother pulled a small device from its place beneath his tunic. Then he spoke into it.

“This is Brant. I need you to transport our visitors and myself into the vault.”

There was a pause. “As you wish,” came the response.

Brant eyed his sister, then me. “Brace yourself,” he told us.

A moment later, I found myself in another place entirely a large but low-ceilinged cavern full of stalagmites and stalactites, illuminated by blue lamps set up on tripods. Abby and her brother were there, as well, and by the ghostly light of the lamps, we laid eyes on the splendor of Dujonian’s Hoard.

It stretched luxuriously into the farthest recesses of the cave, an alien terrain of glor’ya-bearing goblets and armbands, necklaces and serving platters, statuettes and tiaras.

It was breathtaking, to say the least and not only for the regal brilliance with which its every artifact flashed and glimmered, exhibiting the deep, rich colors of the spectrum.

To me, it was also a window into the minds and sensibilities of the ancient Hebitians, of whom not even their Cardassian ancestors had accurate records. On that count, it was priceless beyond any mercantile measure.

“Incredible,” said Abby, the light reflected in the Hoard reflected a second time in her eyes.

She approached the mounds and valleys of casually strewn treasure with an almost religious awe. Then, kneeling in the midst of it, she picked up a long, glor’ya-encrusted necklace and let it spill like a river from one hand to the other.

“I never thought …” she began.

“What?” asked her brother, kneeling beside her. “That you would ever see it? Or that it would be so beautiful?”

Abby shrugged. “Both, I suppose.”

I too knelt to inspect the stolen treasure. Picking up a goblet, I turned it in my hand, watching its glor’ya catch the light one by one. But before I was done, I noticed that two of the stones were missing.

“A pity,” I said out loud.

Brant looked at me. “You mean the missing gems.”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“If you look closely,” he said, “you’ll find that’s the case with the majority of these artifacts. But I assure you, it’s not out of carelessness.”

“Out of what, then?” I asked.

Brant picked up a tiara and ran his fingers over the glor’ya embedded in it. “My rebel friends discovered the Hoard a good many years ago, or so they tell me. Like the Cardassians, they understood these gems were useful as well as beautiful.”

I began to see what he was saying. “They used the glor’ya to power their ships.”

He nodded. “Of course, they could have used the gems all at once, and made their vessels juggernauts of destruction just as the Cardassians might have. But they realized that their fight would be a long one, so they opted to use the glor’ya sparingly.”

“Which is why most of them are still here,” Abby concluded.

“Where they will stay,” Brant said pointedly, putting the tiara down again. “At least, until we see the need to establish a new headquarters for ourselves. Without these little jewels, there would be no rebellion so we’ve learned to guard them jealously.”

He stood and gestured to indicate the limits of the cavern. “This place is several meters below a rather nondescript stretch of ground, and there’s no way in or out of it except by transporter.”

“So your enemies won’t find it,” Abby noted.

“Enemies,” her brother replied with a smile, “and friends alike.” He took out his communications device again. “This is Brant,” he said. “We’re ready