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“Oh, do stop frightening her,” chided Moset. “Here. See how this feels.”

He pressed the hypo to Katal’s throat. It felt cool, and the Changeling could feel the misty contents of the hypo dissolving into him. He looked at his hands, concentrated. They shimmered, briefly, but then reformed into strong, five-fingered humanoid hands.

“Nothing,” said Katal, his voice soft and angry.

“How disappointing,” Moset said. He glared at the cylindrical hypospray, as if the failure were its fault and not his. “Hmmm. I’m not sure what went wrong. I’ll have to go back over my notes. But don’t worry, once I’m able to utilize these two, we’ll make great strides, I’m certain of it.”

Katal continued to stare at his hands, fighting down the red rage that threatened to boil up inside him. The Cardassian was so close. And he had proven his worth in the past. The fact that the Changeling stood before him wearing the face and body of a Bajoran Maquis was evidence of how much Moset had accomplished. But he was losing patience. He had been so patient for so long, for so very long….

“You’re right, of course,” he said mildly, forcing a smile. “Once you start working on these two, I’m sure you’ll make discoveries by leaps and bounds.”

Moset cocked his head. “What an interesting expression.”

“It’s human. I picked it up from Ellis.”

“Leaps and bounds. I like it. It sounds…fun. Vigorous. And very visual. Yes, I’ll make discoveries by leaps and bounds.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Katal said to Chakotay, Sekaya, and Moset, “I have some work to do.”

Even as he said the words, he hesitated. He had known Chakotay for so long, even though the human hadn’t realized it. He enjoyed tricking the human. Chakotay was so terribly sincere. Noble. Easily led. The Changeling was reminded of an ancient Earth practice of piercing the noses of bulls and leading them around by the ring thus inserted. That’s exactly what it was like with Chakotay; a large man, powerfully built, and, what made it more fun, not stupid. Just…trusting. A bull. He liked that image.

First as Katal, a “brother in arms,” and then as stuffy, by-the-book “Priggy” Ellis, he had gulled Chakotay into trusting and even liking him. He knew that whatever Moset had in mind for the human, Chakotay would eventually be dead. Even if he and his sister survived the experiments Moset was certain to put them through, they’d have to die at the end of it all.

And then this game he’d played for more than eight years with Captain Chakotay would be at an end. Katal regretted that, but mentally shrugged.

One must make sacrifices.

He turned and left, moving purposefully down the narrow corridors phasered out of solid stone and into a large room. There were dozens of screens here, all of them active, all of them displaying something of import to Katal. He selected one and stood before it.

“Computer,” he instructed, “activate holographic program A-4.”

The gray-black stones of the cavern walls disappeared as the holographic background manifested. He fiddled with the color, deciding on a kind of slate blue with a bit of green. Thinking a bit, he put some art on the walls—nothing too distinctive—and added a soft, dark blue carpeting. There. Now the room looked like dozens of nondescript, neutrally decorated formal meeting or banquet halls scattered on planets throughout the Federation.

His setting thus appropriately adjusted, the Changeling now adjusted himself. His Bajoran features broadened. His mouth stretched wide, his skin tone turned a pale orange, and his hair went from dark brown to bright red. He watched his hands as his fingers grew longer and thicker, nodding approvingly as four fingers manifested where there had previously been five. He quickly checked the mirror, making sure that everything was as it should be, then put his message through.

Amar Merin Kol appeared on the viewscreen, her eyes lighting up with pleasure at seeing him. He inclined his head respectfully.

“Greetings, Amar,” he said.

“Greetings, Alamys.