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“Apparently not. The Tal Shiar are not perfect, Chancellor, certainly not as skilled as your own Imperial Intelligence, and they cannot predict the future. Subcommander Lar’s profile did not indicate someone who would engage in renegade actions against the express wishes of Romulan High Command and the Senate.” He walked forward to the steward, and forced himself not to wince at the man’s body odor. “I offer this padd as evidence of Lar’s treachery, to be examined by the High Council. I am also instructed by the Senate to offer whatever reparations you deem appropriate for the loss of the No’Var Outpost.” After the steward took the padd, Savalor looked straight into Gowron’s wide, pitiless eyes. “We would not declare war with one ship making a sneak attack, Chancellor. Rest assured, if my government feels the need to make war on you, you will know it.”

Gowron stared right back. Savalor knew that to be the first to look away would be to show weakness, and he could ill afford that.

Finally Gowron said, “We will examine your evidence, Ambassador. However, I believe that your government does not wish to wage war on us-for now. Therefore, barring any new evidence, the Klingon Empire will not respond to this outrage.” Then Gowron smiled, and while before he was mildly amused by Savalor’s comment, this time the smile had no mirth-it was more a baring of the teeth, truly. “However, if the families of those who were dishonorably murdered at No’Var wish to take their revenge, then who am I to stop them?”

You’re the leader of the thrice-damned empire, that’s who you are. Savalor was not suicidal enough to say so out loud, though. “Of course, Chancellor.”

“That is all,” Gowron said. “We have other business to discuss.”

Savalor gave a small bow, and beat a hasty retreat.

As he moved toward the aircar that would take him back to the-blessedly clean!-Romulan embassy, Savalor hoped that the Tal Shiar had done their forgery work well. For Lar was, in fact, a patriot of the highest order. His attack on No’Var was unpredictable, not because the Tal Shiar’s profile on him was wrong, but because it gave no indication that he would perform such an act.

The mystery of Lar’s psychosis was someone else’s problem, however. Savalor’s was to sell it to the High Council, a feat he was fairly certain he’d managed. A Tal Shiar agent was likely waiting for him at the embassy to debrief him-though this was an open council session, so the Tal Shiar could just get the facts off the information net like anyone else.

He just wanted to get out of the filth. He was definitely changing his clothes before talking to anyone…

6

The Voria Mines Voria Province, Bajor Cardassian Union

Kira Nerys, the last surviving member of the Shakaar resistance cell, rubbed her callused hands together as she headed home after a long day at the mines.

As recently as ten years ago, the Voria mines were going full bore, taking uridium from beneath Bajor’s surface. Five hundred Bajorans worked the mines, and were housed in fifty one-room shacks that ten people had to share. The ore hauler that took the fruits of the miners’ labors to Terok Nor for processing came three times a week.

Now, however, only forty-two Bajorans worked the mine, and the hauler came twice a month-and there were rumors that that would be cut back to once monthly. All forty-two got an entire shack to themselves, which was downright luxurious by mine-worker standards.

Many of the other mines on Bajor were in a similar state. From what Kira had heard from her fellow resistance members, that was why the Detapa Council back on Cardassia had been pushing Central Command to pull out of Bajor: it was no longer economically viable to support an occupation force-one that was regularly harried by terrorists-and a space station, given the meager returns.

But those rumors had died down the past few years, and though the resistance continued to pound away, Bajor was still part of the