Everyone’s attention had been on the vedek. When Hatha suddenly stopped and shouted, his expression shattering, no one knew what was happening.

Then Shakaar saw who he was looking at, and realized what was wrong. He saw, too, the target. In a flash of his old reflexes, he realized he was closest to the would-be assassin, and threw himself out of his chair, hoping to stop the shot.

Another person shoved him aside and he fell. Jolorn jumped past him.

Kasidy saw Hatha’s expression change, and heard his shout, but didn’t know the danger was aimed at her until she saw him raise an arm her way, as if in supplication.

The world suddenly shifted into slow motion.

Turning her head, she saw the man with the phaser, and realized it was pointed at her.

She drew a deep breath that took forever, and watched the man take a single step to give himself a better angle — a rushed half-second that lasted half a lifetime. He fired, a bolt that carried all the anger and contempt in his expression.

Then something hit her, and she was falling backward, falling forever, her chest feeling as though she’d been struck with a runabout. She heard screaming, and the world went black.

Rig had been answering a polite question from the ambassador. With her head turned, she didn’t see the beginning.

She turned when Hatha shouted, her eyes widening, understanding at once. She reflexively grabbed for the phaser she didn’t have — no weapons were allowed in the vedek assembly chamber.

By then the ambassador had also realized what was going on. His Vulcan reflexes hadn’t been honed in a war for liberation, but they were still quick enough to grab her and the little girl with Kasidy and pull them all down to the floor before the shot hit the wall behind them, biting into the marble and showering them with hot shards of rock.

Jernen was screaming.

Others were screaming too, and she heard the sounds of people falling over themselves and the benches, trying to escape whatever danger was there.

“Captain Yates!” she shouted from under the Vulcan’s bulk, trying to push or kick her way clear from the heavy robes.

“Who are you?” she heard the Vulcan ask.

Rig rolled away from the ambassador and half-sat up.

A stranger lay beside the silent, unmoving Kasidy. He was dark-complexioned, broad-shouldered. His clothes were simple, worn-looking, even tattered. A simple earing and chain dangled from his right ear. He looked up at the colonel.

Rig stared back. He matched the description of the man who’d been following Kasidy and Kira.

Kira stepped into the assembly hall just in time to see chaos erupt. She heard Hatha shout. She saw the stranger fire. She realized who his target must have been. She heard the screams from the gallery.

And she cursed herself for leaving Kasidy when Rig had been certain she was being targeted.

Then she ran back the way she’d come, forcing her way through the people who were trying to escape, to reach her friend.

“Kasidy!” She burst through the curtains into the gallery.

The ambassador’s aide was already leaning over Kasidy and the man stretched out beside her.

“She has not been shot,” the aide enunciated. “I believe she lost consciousness when she struck her head — I do not believe it is serious. And the man is uninjured.”

Kira crouched beside Kasidy, needing to convince herself that the aide was correct, and the Emissary’s wife hadn’t been killed. Kasidy was starting to move, groaning a little, groping for something.

The relief that flooded her was so fast and strong that she sagged against the fallen bench, feeling wobbly.

A second later, Hatha was there too.

“Kasidy....”

She heard Rig giving orders into her combadge. “Get security here — yes, armed — yes, I know this is the assembly — we’ve got somebody here shooting at people!”

Relief was followed by a rage just as deep.

He’d retreated toward the antechamber. People in the gallery were ducking, running, throwing themselves aside. The alien ambassador was no longer in sight. Surprisingly, people were starting to run toward him, fury in their eyes. Somewhere in the hubbub, he heard the minister’s security chief shouting orders.

Time to go. Iscalla touched the control pad on his wrist.

Nothing happened.

They’d already re-established the force shields and transporter scramblers, then. His chances of surviving this had just dropped from not likely to nearly impossible.

No matter. He had accomplished part what he came he came here to do. He had bowed to the will of the Prophets; his fate was in their hands.

Still moving, he fired at the first person daring to approach him, then bolted from the room.

Tensed to act but knowing it would be foolish to until she had a better idea what the man was going to do next, or a weapon to hand, Rig watched him run, memorizing every feature of his face and build.

One person didn’t jump out of his way or try to pursue him.

Vedek Foldan simply watched, her expression ... reproachful.

Rig’s eyes narrowed, for a second focusing on the vedek’s reaction.

But there was no time to consider that now. She leaped over the barrier down to the floor. Before she reached the door, several of her security officers rushed in.

“Everybody else, stay here, where we know you’ll be safe! Leave this matter to security,” she loudly ordered the crowd. With so many of the people here being former resistance fighters, the last thing she needed was them running around the complex trying to be heros.

“Did you see him?” she demanded, turning to her officers. “Slim man, gold complexion, dark-haired, clean-shaven, wearing one of our uniforms. His name is Iscalla Dakken.”

None of them had.

“He must have gone the other way.” She accepted a weapon from one of the men, then felt a hand on her arm. She almost whirled and attacked.

It was Kira. “I’m going with you. We’ve got to get him.”

Rig pulled another phaser from one of the other officers and handed it to Kira.

“Let’s not waste time then.”

They raced out.

Things happened fast. Afterward, Shakaar would register quick images, but not be able to put them all in order or say what happened in between each of them. He saw Minister Jolorn half-turn and stagger at the second shot. The vedek who’d been speaking raced for the wall separating the gallery from the assembly, vaulting the barrier as if it were nothing. The assassin stepped back, seemed to hesitate, then ran out the door. By the time the first minister was halfway back to his feet, Rig and Kira had rushed past him and were heading after the man.

Standing again in the midst of the chaos, he saw that several ministers and vedeks were hurrying to Jolorn’s side.

Then he looked toward the gallery. Kasidy Yates and Ambassador S’ren had been sitting there. His heart constricted, imaging the repercussions for Bajor if a Federation ambassador had been assassinated in their assembly hall, in the presence and sight of their entire gathered religious and political authority, or if the Emissary’s wife, with all that she embodied for so many of their people, had been murdered.

Already moving, he reached the barrier and hoisted himself up. The ambassador and his aide were obviously uninjured. Kasidy looked stunned, but was being helped to sit by the mob of people around her.

Relieved on many levels, Shakaar dropped down from the railing back to the assembly floor and rejoined the ministers and vedeks gathered around the wounded Jolorn. Somebody had already called for medical assistance; a look told him the wound wasn’t fatal. Shakaar dropped to one knee to put himself on the same level as the defense minister.

“Ramee, that was foolish, pushing me out of the way and charging him like that,” he told the other man, watching Rozahn, of all people, efficiently putting pressure on the gash across Jolorn’s ribs.

The defense minister gritted his teeth. “Couldn’t let you get killed.... Li Nalas ... a long time ago ... they say he used just that attack on a Cardassian ... and it threw him off so much ... that he didn’t get a shot off.”

“You’re not Li Nalas — and that wasn’t a Cardassian.”

Jolorn sighed, then winced as Rozahn shifted the pressure. “I guess ... you’re right ... on both counts....”

Kasidy came to with a groan, her head aching where she’d hit it on the bench as she fell. People were holding her up, anxiously staring at her or asking questions that made no sense. She shook her head a little, and instantly regretted it.

“What happened....” She blinked.

S’ren explained efficiently. “A man shot at us. I am not sure if you were the sole intended target, or if he hoped to kill me or others as well. Thanks to the intervention of this man...” He pointed at the newcomer sitting beside Kasidy. “You were pulled from the line of fire. I believe Colonel Kira and Colonel Rig have gone in pursuit of the would-be assassin. It appears we may have some injuries, but not serious.”

Kasidy caught Hatha’s deeply worried and remorseful expression, and tried to smile, taking his hand to reassure him. “Then I guess I’m all right.” She turned to the other man; Hatha’s grip suddenly tightened, then slackened as he dropped her fingers. “I guess I owe you thanks.”

“Indeed,” S’ren agreed.

The stranger stared impassively at Kasidy.

Feeling a little uncomfortable as the silence continued, she said, “Umm, do you have a name?”

He didn’t answer.

A long moment later, Hatha Trund seemed to find his voice, husky and strained. “He doesn’t speak....”

“What?”

“This man hasn’t spoken since during the occupation.”

“But you know him?” she queried, glancing between the two, and the strange expression on the vedek’s face.

“He’s my brother.” With that, Hatha leaned over and took the other man in a tight embrace, tears spilling down his cheeks.

Iscalla knew he didn’t have time. He hurried along the corridor, trying to look like a man on a mission. He passed several individuals and pairs who scarcely gave him a second look. Only once had he been forced to shoot someone.

Somewhere behind him, he heard raised voices. The woman he’d shot had probably been found. The alarm was spreading.

He broke into a trot, mentally tracing the passages in this part of the complex, deciding where to go next. His first instinct was to hide or to escape, as he always had before. Neither was feasible, he thought, accepting the cold reality he had known was likely from the moment he accepted this holy mission.

Footsteps behind him. Determination hardened. He would not be taken easily — and maybe the Prophets would reward his devotion with another option.

As if in blessing and answer, it came to him.

He began to run.

Rig gave more orders as they ran. “Block off every entrance to the complex — yes, complete security lockdown, force fields in place and security at every station, multiple officers. And I want a full scan of the premises — if this is a terrorist action, I don’t want anything exploding an hour from now. Yes, I think it’s a real possibility! Do it!”

“You think Kasidy wasn’t the only target? Or the ambassador?” Kira asked.

“Until we have that man in custody and can question him, I’m not ruling out anything,” Rig replied briefly.

They heard shouts echoing down the corridor, and quickened their pace, weapons at the ready.

Around the corridor, they found a pair of security officers hunched over an elderly woman lying motionless on the floor.

“Harus! Was it him?” Rig snapped.

“We think so,” the officer replied, rage on his deeply tanned features. “But she’ll never be able to tell us.” He leaned over to close the woman’s eyes gently. “Her name was Faren Carta. I’ve seen her around, talked to her a few times. She was just a cleaning woman, kitchen help, most of her mind gone in a Cardassian torture chamber. She was no threat to anyone.”

Kira recognized the unfortunate as the woman who’d brought breakfast to her and Shakaar the morning before.

Rig looked as coldly furious as Kira felt.

“Contact her family. See that she’s properly cared for.” Her gaze flicked down the corridor. “We know he came this way. Let’s go.”

They hurried on, hearing the Bajoran death chant rising behind them.

He made his way to the cellars, avoiding security or anyone else by climbing down a turbolift access shaft rather than using a public transit lift.

In the lower level, he found the old cisterns that held water from the springs below Peri’ketra, water that was pumped into several pools and fountains on the complex grounds. Looking around to be certain he was alone, Iscalla went to the far-most basin and slid aside the deceptively-light cover. Plunging his hand into the icy water and feeling under the rim, he found the hidden controls. He entered the code by feel.

The water vanished. A curving stairwell appeared, leading down.

With one last look behind him, he stepped onto the spiral stairs and began descending. When his head was below the rim, he reached up again to enter another code.

A ripple of water circled the opening, and the stairwell was gone. Two hands reached up out of the water long enough to pull the cover back into place, then disappeared.

“Everyone thinks they saw him, but nobody remembers which way he went!” Kira muttered, frustrated, staring down the empty corridor, phaser in hand. They’d been searching for over twenty minutes. “We’ve blocked every access. He can’t have escaped!”

“Unless....” Rig grimaced. “I didn’t think about it, but he might know about the passages....”

“What passages?” Kira asked.

“Colonel Rig to home base, prepare for site-to-site transport, code Rig-three-five-seven-zeta, sending coordinates now.” In a low voice, Rig explained. “There is an underground passage out of the complex to ... well, a more secure facility. It joins another that leads to the kai’s retreat. The passage is secret, and so is the destination. It was set up as an escape route for the first minister and the kai, in the event of another ... Occupation.”

“How would he know about it, then?”

“I don’t know that he does. But I’m getting a feeling that the passage could be the only way he could have gone. And if he does know about it, our security’s been breached.” Her expression grim, Rig touched her combadge again. “Two to transport, now.”