INTERLUDE THREE

“There are three sides to every story: Yours, mine… and the truth.”

– Folk wisdom of various planets

Gul Ared Lavar knew his reaction was entirely inappropriate to the situation, but couldn’t quite help himself.

He chuckled.

Before the “Starfleet” officer on his viewer could respond, though, Lavar held up a conciliatory hand.

“My apologies. I am not laughing at you, Sub-commander.

“I am simply contemplating the wondrously convoluted postwar era in which we find ourselves. Think on it: A Romulan stands on the bridge of a Federation starship—one called Liberty, no less—warning a Cardassian to remove his vessel from Bajoran space… and citing a treaty signed with The Dominion.”

The woman, T’Laris, found it not at all amusing, from what he could see—which may well have been fortunate considering the peculiar, perilous turn he knew Romulan humor often took.

“Please continue ‘contemplating’ it from your side of the border, Gul Lavar … and please remain there in the future.”

For a long moment, he considered that, along with other factors.

Lavar, personally, thought the policy of antagonizing his Bajoran opposite numbers at every turn to be purposeless and counterproductive—not to mention petty. But he himself did not make policy; he enforced it. So here he’d been, buzzing along the perimeter of their space, further enflaming a people whose hatred of Cardassians was more than justified … and for what?

He thought of his people’s once great empire, its mockery of self rule now confined to the home system and a few core colonies. Meanwhile, the remainder of its vast territories was ‘administered’ by the Great Powers and their lesser allies, in preparation for various planet-wide referenda on whether each wished independence or restoration to the Union. An economy that had, only five years previously, been one of the fastest growing in the Alpha Quadrant was now reduced to little more than scrounging subsistence, largely dependent on Federation largesse; and a fleet that had once exceeded 3,000 combat-ready vessels now possessed barely a tenth that. He himself had once commanded a battle group containing over 40 cruisers and their escorts. Now his little quartet of ships actually constituted a ‘significant asset’ to the Cardassian people.

“Very well, Sub-commander. I shall order my squ–“ Lavar paused, and sighed, unable to bear calling the paltry little assemblage a ‘squadron.’ After a few seconds, he continued, “We shall withdraw, as per your request.”

They both, of course, knew it had been nothing of the sort; but they also both knew that stripping his once-proud race of whatever dignity it had left would do no one any good.

Unfortunately, his other “counterpart”—and he used the term quite liberally—didn’t see it that way.

“That is not acceptable, Cardassian,” Colonel Marek Tathon asserted. “Under treaty terms, we have the right to search and seizure of any ship that violates our borders. You may withdraw… but that fighter remains.

“It is now the property of the Bajoran people.”

Lavar gauged T’Laris’ reaction. Though to her credit she disguised it well, Marek—frightening that a Bajoran could have such a Cardassian-sounding name; and one of our heroes, no less—had obviously surprised and irritated her with his evidently impromptu declaration.

I’d guess he’s not following the little script for dealing with me you two devised a few minutes ago … is he, Sub-commander?

Poor woman. Dealing with Bajorans and Cardassians all at once. I’d dread it myself.

His sympathy, though, extended only so far.

“Despite the questionable criminality of said actions, the sensor log recordings of which are… unreliable … at best, we are now in Cardassian space, Colonel Tathon.” He’d intentionally employed incorrect name usage, something about which he knew most Bajorans were touchy; predictably, Marek bristled in response. “I invite you to withdraw—immediately. You are not welcome here.

“Sub-commander, Liberty may depart at her convenience, of course.”

Glinn Grevok informed him, via private ear transceiver, “Gul Lavar… sensors indicate another battle group approaching—Gul Ladred’s ships. They are six minutes away.”

Excellent.

Ladred was a political enemy … but a doughty fighter and canny commander. He had Lavar’s respect. He also had a Galor-class cruiser and a pair of the Hidekis. That brought the total to four each of the Cardassian warships, against Emissary and Liberty—not good odds for the intruders.

Still, Lavar had no desire to provoke the Federation, or for that matter the Bajorans, any further.

“I promise you both, I shall launch an investigation into the incident, Sub-commander.” Then, he shocked everyone, including himself. “Colonel, you have my … apologies … for this unfortunate occurrence.”

That, he hoped, would satisfy everyone. He might lose a bit of standing with the more militaristic of his fellows, but the time for battle was long past. Cardassia needed space, both literally and figuratively, to heal—to grow strong again.

He waited while the two opposing commanders conferred privately, inwardly approving of the manner in which he’d handled his opposition.

Thus, Lavar was more than a bit taken aback…

…when the Bajoran ship opened fire.

CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE