The shower had been heavenly. Bashir usually settled for the sonic cleaning unit, considering the water situation, but tonight, he’d been unable to resist the urge for the feel of real, albeit replicated, water sluicing down bare skin, washing away fatigue with the dirt and sweat of the day. Heading back to his tent afterward, he enjoyed the chilly night breeze through his damp hair. It felt good, after the heat of the day. Above him, faint stars glimmered through the murky night — more stars, he noted, than previous evenings. The sky was clearer than it had been in weeks.

Stepping inside his tent, he sealed the opening behind him, stifling a yawn as he anticipated the comfort of his bed. Not that the cot was all that comfortable, but weariness and the years of experience with Cardassian beds on DS9 would make anything but rocks and nails soothing to sleep on. Not bothering to bring up the light, he threw his uniform jacket and tunic over the table. No reports tonight—

“Hello, doctor!”

Bashir jumped. “Lights!”

The small table illuminator brightened. There was a man sitting beside his bed, smiling amiably.

“Garak!” Finding someone unexpectedly sitting in the fold-up chair beside his cot brought back some unpleasant memories. “What are you doing in my tent? In the middle of the night? In the dark?”

The Cardassian chuckled deep in his throat. “Why, doctor, merely waiting for you. I thought you would want to hear what I’ve learned.”

“What you’ve learned about what?”

“I believe I have uncovered clues to a previously undiscovered cache of artifacts, perhaps even an ancient tomb.”

The human was stunned. “Hebitians? Your ancient culture?”

“I’m not sure about the exact nature of the artifacts, or indeed of their real value,” he stated evasively, rising smoothly to his feet. “But come, let’s investigate and find out together, as we used to in the old days at Deep Space Nine, shall we?”

He stared at Garak, his jaw still agape.

“Or have your lost that zest for adventure and thirst for knowledge that brought you to the edge of the Federation frontier in the first place?” His expression saddened, although his eyes still twinkled with anticipation.

“An undiscovered cache of artifacts, a connection to your past....” Bashir’s mind was working quickly. “That could be a boost to local morale and help put the Dominion destruction behind. It could really help your people move on — and provide a clearer picture of your history! From what I’ve read, too many such discoveries were sold off to finance the military, not maintained for the benefit of the people.”

“Alas, too true.”

“But these days, who would have control of the discovery?” he pondered aloud. “If any particular political group were to seize it — or hide the find from general knowledge—“

“Excellent! You understand why the discovery of something so important can not be left to the vagaries of fate,” Garak declared in satisfaction. “If this discovery is as crucial as I believe it can be, it must be preserved for all Cardassia, a legacy to our children and our future. Which means, we must find it. Come. But it will be chilly outside — I suggest you put your shirt back on.”

“Dr. Bashir!” a voice bellowed from somewhere outside.

Exchanging stares for a second, Bashir stepped back through the door of the tent. “What is it?” he asked.

Blake seemed to take some satisfaction in disturbing him. “They found a body near the university. Dr. Parmak’s checking it out, but I thought you’d want to know.”

“A body! Do they know who it is?”

Blake shrugged. “Older Cardassian. Might be named Limorin, according to the woman who claims she found him. We’re holding her for questioning.”

“Limorin!” Garak appeared behind him. “Kassel Limorin is dead?”

Blake’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull as he took in Garak’s presence and Bashir’s half-dressed appearance.

“What happened to him? Where’s the body?” Garak demanded.

“We’ve ... secured the area and moved the body to the clinic,” Blake reported after a moment. “Parmak’s doing an autopsy to confirm the cause of death....”

“I’ll meet you there, doctor,” the Cardassian said quickly, and strode off into the night.

“I’ll be ready in a moment,” the doctor said, turning from Blake.

“Take your time, take your time,” the security officer drawled. “Sorry I had to disturb you when you were ... entertaining,” he finished insinuatingly, then very deliberately turned his own back with a smirk.

Bashir opened his mouth, then decided, To hell with what Blake thinks. He went back inside to grab his shirt.

Two shadows met in the deeper shadows of the alley.

“Well?” breathed the one.

“Done,” was the simple response.

“Then you’ve earned this.”

Several small objects changed hands, and the two figures parted..

It had been a pleasant dream; he would remember that much, but nothing more.

“Jake Sisko.”

“Hmmmph?” Jake rolled to his back, blinking away the wisps of the dream and staring at the Cardassian woman.

“Would you like to make a difference for Cardassia again?”

“Wha...?” He blinked again. “Uh.... Yeah, yes, I would. What—?”

“There has been ... an incident....”

Bashir suspected Blake was enjoying the midnight interrogation. One Cardassian accused of killing another — was the brutal murder anything but an exercise to him? Blake had made it clear enough that the doctor’s presence wasn’t necessary, or even wanted, but Bashir had used his authority as the relief mission leader to insist on staying. He was glad he had; he didn’t like Blake’s tone.

“He was garroted. A woman would have had the strength to do that, to an unconscious old man who couldn’t defend himself,” the husky security officer finished contemptuously. He crossed his arms and glared down at the woman in the chair.

“I found him that way, I didn’t do it,” Lang insisted.

“You were standing beside the body. You had his blood on your hand and in your hair and clothes. You were holding his cane — the cane that caused the wound to his head.”

“I told you, I picked up the cane when I saw a man at the door, because I didn’t know who he was and I thought he was the killer. I didn’t know he was a security officer, and I wanted to be able to defend myself. Then I slipped and fell in the blood on the floor,” Lang explained again, clearly frustrated. Her hand reflexively moved as if to cover the stains on the side of her pant leg.

“You struck him with his own cane, then garroted him. What kind of message were you trying to send? He didn’t expect it from you, did he? We got there too late to save him, but before you could make your escape.”

“No!”

“You have a history of associating with terrorists and killers—“

“Never! They were not terrorists! And association with people working to change the system, peacefully, is not a crime! Or it shouldn’t be!” Tears welled up in her eyes.

“What would you say,” Blake continued coldly, “if I told you that we had a witness who heard a woman’s voice arguing loudly with Limorin, just before we got there?”

“It wasn’t me. And if they claim it was, they are lying.”

This was too much.

“Blake,” Bashir said quietly, “I think the questioning is over for now.”

Blake whirled on him. “I don’t tell you how to practice medicine, don’t tell me—“

“If you’re formally accusing her — and I think you’ve crossed the line to that — she’s entitled to legal counsel. Where’s her attorney?”

“My what?”

Bashir smiled at her. “Your ... public conservator, that’s what they’re called.”

“You’ve already found me guilty?” she demanded. “You haven’t even—“ She rose and took a step toward him; Blake raised his phaser with a grim expression, and Lang froze.

“Oh, that’s right, O’Brien said Cardassian defense counsel is a farce.... In a Federation court, you’ll have a defense counsel who actually works on your behalf,” Bashir began to explain.

“Excuse me, doctor, but this is Cardassia,” Garak interjected gently. “The professor will be subject to Cardassian jurisprudence. However,” he glanced at the woman, “there will be no arrest, nor trial, until or unless our system determines it is time, and appropriate.”

“I am innocent, you can’t—“ Lang protested.

“I’m not releasing the only damned suspect in a murder case—“ Blake said with a curse.

“However, in the interim, I submit that Professor Lang may be a material witness, the only person we know beyond a shadow of any doubt to have been at the scene,” Garak continued in a slightly louder voice. “I would therefore suggest that she remain in ... protective custody, I believe the term is?” He looked to Bashir, who nodded back, unable to conceal his relief. “At least until Commander Blake has time to confer with his Cardassian security counterparts, compare evidence, and complete their investigation.”

“I appeal to the Federation—“

“My dear professor,” Garak reproved in a voice laced with warning, “do not be so hasty to compromise your position.”

She studied him for a moment, then stayed silent.

“All right,” Blake finally growled. “Protective custody for now. Nobody gets her out until I say so. Not even Parn, this time.”

“Especially Parn,” Garak murmured.

“Storie!” the commander yelled.

The female lieutenant led Lang away to the temporary security holding area.

They’d barely gone when Jake Sisko came scurrying in.

“Jake, what are you doing here at this time of night?” Bashir asked before anyone else could react.

“Hi, Julian. I hear there’s been a murder.” The young man seemed far too eager.

“How did you hear that?” Blake asked with a scowl.

“Oh, I have my sources.”

Blake’s eye went cold. “We’re not going to discuss security concerns with the press.”

“It’s the murder of a prominent Cardassian citizen! That’s news! You can’t keep that from the people!” Jake’s expression turned more serious. “The press is entitled to the story! We’re essential to a free society. You’re not going to be like ... like part of that Obsidian Order, controlling what people hear and see and think, are you? Where there’s no free press and the government isn’t accountable to the citizens?”

“Hell, no!” Blake replied with reflexive vehemence.

“Jake—“

“So it’s true?” Jake asked again.

Much as Blake obviously wanted to deny it, he couldn’t. “All right. It’s true,” he admitted.

“And it’s really one of the leaders of the Oralian Way?”

“I wouldn’t know about that.”

“Jake, a man is dead—“

“And security is looking for a mysterious witness who disappeared after notifying them of the murder?” the young man continued.

“He didn’t disappear—“ Blake stopped mid-sentence, slowly leaning back in his chair, mouth still a little open as he focused hard on the reporter.

Storie came back into the chamber.

“Lieutenant,” Blake asked quickly, “do we have a full report from the witness?”

“I’m afraid not, Commander. Just what he gave us at the murder scene. The man hasn’t shown up yet — he was supposed to be on the way, according to the officer securing the site. I’m surprised he’s not here.”

“What the hell’s taking him so long?”

“If I may ask,” Garak began with some diffidence, “what is the witness’s name?”

“Why should I tell you that?”

“I am beginning to have some ... suspicions about the convenient appearance and disappearance of a supposed witness to the apparent murder of one political-religious leader by another.”

That sank in for a moment.

“His name was Rokain, Krell Rokain,” Blake said. “Know him?”

Garak began to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“I must apologize, Commander. The name.... Krell Rokain.... It is similar to your human name ... John Smith, is it? A common name, once upon a time. Now, however, on Cardassia, often used in literature for a character of no significance, nondescript, frequently appearing once and then vanishing from the story forever, or as an alias used by a character with something to hide. I suspect, Commander Blake, that this mysterious witness Rokain will not be seen again.”

Blake slammed his phaser onto the desk in disgust.

Outside the security office, Bashir felt the beginning of a headache. He wanted to get some sleep, but his Cardassian friend had other ideas first.

“Doctor, we must make plans,” Garak whispered genially, after making sure Jake was out of hearing range.

“Plans?” the doctor repeated.

“Yes. To locate the artifacts.”

“Garak, there’s just been a murder—“

“Which is under control, thanks to Commander Blake’s security. And Professor Lang is in safe hands, for the moment. This is more important!”

“How can this be more important than a man’s life?” Bashir demanded.

“That which we seek, may be the reason he died.”

The doctor halted abruptly.

“Professor Limorin contributed some of the information relative to the artifacts I believe we can find. Someone else may be seeking the same thing; he may have been murdered because of that information. If we don’t get there first, it’s entirely possible that an irreplaceable part of Cardassian history may be gone.”

“You don’t think it was the political murder Jake suggested?”

“The motive may be both.”

Bashir nodded somberly, his headache forgotten. “All right, Garak. What do you want to do?”

“Let us meet tomorrow night, near the second replicator station, by the north side of the old ministry building, at midnight,” the Cardassian said briskly. “Mention it to no one, and be sure you’re not followed. Bring hand torches and a tricorder. And I suggest that you bring a phaser.”

The doctor paused again. “What else aren’t you telling me?”

“This evening, Parn and Mondrig each asked someone to keep an eye on me, and to tell him if I met with a man named Limorin.”

“And now Limorin’s dead....”

“Yes. And Legate Parn himself saw fit to ... approach me to discuss certain matters. He seemed to know where I was going at the time.”

“So you think Parn had something to do with the murder? And that someone’s following you? Someone who knows more than he’s telling?”