Thomas Riker crouched behind a boulder and lay the smaller, lighter form of Erik Pressman on the ground. It was night, the air was crisp, and he could see his breath coming out in puffs of steam. The sky was cloudless, and he could see the distant stars. Behind him, Bashir, Turner, and Ro were firing their phasers at the pursuing Cardassians, providing him with cover, if only temporarily.

“Sir?” Riker asked, nudging Pressman.

Pressman’s eyes fluttered, then fixed him with a piercing glare. “Did we.... Did we make it out?”

“We’re out,” Riker said.

“Good… good,” Pressman said. “How bad is the damage?”

“Sir, I’m really not sure I should…”

Pressman held up a hand, indicating that it was alright for him to stop talking. Riker realized the former Admiral most likely knew that his injuries were fatal. “I took a disruptor blast to the chest. I know what’s happened… and what will continue to happen to my internal organs for the next few minutes.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Riker said, legitimately feeling remorse about the impending fate of his former commanding officer. “Just tell me one thing. Why did you come back for me? Just to recruit me?”

Pressman smiled. “I think you know the answer to that. Aboard the Pegasus, you saved my life. Well, you and your brother hadn’t been split in that transporter accident yet, so it was both you and Will who saved me that day. When it… came out… what had happened, I still felt gratitude, even if he had turned his back on me.”

“You know that even if I did leave Starfleet, I would have done the same thing Will did,” Riker said. “I wouldn’t have protected what you did aboard the Pegasus.”

Pressman coughed, and a few drops of blood landed on his face. “That never mattered. Will has been doing well in his career while you sat in this prison for committing a crime that benefited the Federation. He didn’t need my help. You did.”

“Thank you, sir,” Riker said. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Take the offer we’re making,” Pressman said. “You have another chance. Take it. You’ve earned it.”

“Yes sir,” Riker said. “Sir? Is there a backup plan for getting off this planet?”

Pressman smiled weakly. Riker could tell that the disruptor damage was spreading within his torso. He was nearly gone. “You don’t think the Cardassians who run this place have been stranded, do you?” He paused again, trying to cough, but clearly not strong enough to. “Steal a shuttle... make... a run for it.”

“Aye, sir,” Riker said.

“Now… go,” Pressman said. “Don’t… give… them time to… gather more forces.”

Riker heard the other man’s breathing becoming shallow. There was little time left before the other man passed, and there was little to be gained by waiting here until the bitter end. Pressman’s eyes were already focused beyond Riker, as though he were staring into the darkness of the universe beyond. “Let’s keep moving,” Riker called out to the others.

“How is he?” Ro asked between phaser shots.

Riker didn’t reply, but he just shook his head sadly.

“What’s our next move?” Turner asked.

Riker replied, “We find their shuttles and steal one.”

“That’s not a very practical plan, given that they’re right on top of us,” Turner said.

“No, it’s a terrible plan,” Bashir said.

“Then what do you suggest?” Riker demanded. “I’ve been out of it for so long, you know I can’t be of much help.”

“Are we out from under the shield?” Bashir asked.

“We have about another fifty meters to go,” Ro replied.

“Then I suggest we get there,” Bashir said. “I suggest we hurry.”

Riker took one final look at his former commanding officer. Even as he lay dying, there was much he regretted about his time serving with Pressman. And yet, he now owed the man a debt he would never be able to repay. “Okay, let’s go,” he said.

Ro, Turner, and Bashir stopped firing at the Cardassians and began to run up the trail, back to the area they had beamed down to. Riker knew it might be fleeting, but for the first time in years, he could feel the freedom he’d been denied for so many years. Even if a disrupter blast caught him at this point, at least he could say that he lived his last moments somewhere other than a Cardassian prison cell. Even with those feelings of hope and triumph, he also knew that he was leaving others behind… people like him, who had chosen to fight the Cardassians and the Federation in a war he knew had been right at the time.

As they ran, Riker could see the flashes of disruptor fire hitting the ground around them. He estimated that they were about fifty meters ahead of their pursuers, who were racing to catch them. Fortunately, that meant their aim would be poor, which was the best hope they had of making it beyond the shield… for whatever good that was going to do them.

Riker saw a disruptor bolt hit the ground less than a foot from him, causing the rock it struck to explode. He felt tiny pebbles embed themselves in his ankle. It hurt, but he could tell that they didn’t go any deeper than the flesh. A few seconds later they covered the remaining distance and passed through the outer edge of the shield. As they emerged, they were surrounded by shimmering gold-colored energy.

* * *

Bashir blinked as his eyes adjusted, having just been beamed from the dark of night to the brightly lit room he now found himself in. Turner, Riker, and Ro had appeared next to him on a transporter pad, though he could tell right away that this was no Federation vessel they’d been beamed to. The colors were darker, and he recognized the architectural style as being distinctly Cardassian. Across from him, standing behind a chest-height control panel, was the unmistakable gray skin of a Cardassian, and he was dressed in their typical charcoal colored military garb.

Bashir raised his hands in the air, realized that he was still holding a phaser, and slowly set it down on the floor. The others followed his lead and did so as well.

Just then, the doors hissed open and Bashir saw a familiar Cardassian face. “Hello, Doctor, it’s been a while!”

Bashir breathed a sigh of relief. The device had worked, even through the shield. “Garak! How did you get here so fast?”

“When I received your message, I knew I needed to act fast. Fortunately, I happened to be aboard the Zantar a mere light year away. Of course, being the head of the new Cardassian government, I am required by my station to demand to know just what in the Hell you thought you were doing breaking into one of our prisons.”

“They came to rescue me,” Riker said.

“Ah yes,” Said Garak. “Weren’t you put away for stealing a Federation ship and attacking one of our bases?”

“The war is over,” Riker replied. “Maybe we should just leave all the broken pieces from that conflict where they lie.”

Garak nodded. “I couldn’t agree more.” He motioned them to follow him out of the transporter room and into the ship’s corridor. Bashir noticed that there was a distinct lack of security, despite the fact that they had just been engaged in hostilities with Cardassians on the surface of the planet. It was nice to have connections.

“Never mind the fact that only one of the four of us actually knew what we were getting into when we embarked on this mission,” Bashir said as he walked alongside his old friend.

“Be that as it may,” Garak said, “Now that I have you, I suppose I need to decide what to do with you.”

“I assume another jail cell,” Ro commented glumly.

“Garak, would I be correct in assuming that we’re aboard a Galor class starship?” Bashir asked.

“You would,” Garak replied.

“How did you manage that without dealing with all the military red tape?” Bashir asked.

“When I returned to Cardassia, there wasn’t much of the Obsidian Order left. What there was, I quickly assumed control over and was placed in charge of certain military assets that were overlooked by the main assembly. The end result is that if I need something done in a hurry, I’m able to do it.”

“And you consider that ethical, given the reforms you’re trying to implement?” Bashir asked.

“As you should well know, Doctor, very little in this universe is as subject to interpretation as ethics,” Garak said. “Nevertheless, I’ve been careful not to use it unless it’s absolutely needed, and never for things like the consolidation of power, or assassination. Mainly, it’s for activities such as this, where I need to take care of a problem quietly. Incidentally, using that subspace communicator I gave you was the smartest play to make. I can only assume that your next play would have been to try and steal a Cardassian shuttle, and we calculated your odds of success at twelve percent. Not good odds, if I were a betting man.”

“Garak, why are you still holding Maquis prisoners?” Bashir asked.

Garak was silent for a moment, obviously choosing his words carefully. “My dear Doctor, every Maquis prisoner we hold not only costs Cardassia precious resources, but also opens us up to diplomatic incidents… much like the one I’m presently dealing with.”

“So why not let them go?” Riker asked.

“Let them go?” Garak asked, clearly feigning surprise. “Let them go? Well, there would be all sorts of procedural barriers for that. One cannot simply open up their prisons and let everyone free, now can they? That would be irresponsible.”

“If they’re all political prisoners who no longer pose a danger to Cardassia, I hardly see why that should be a problem,” Riker said.

“The Federation doesn’t want them back, and some on Cardassia would argue that they do still pose a risk. Who’s to say they won’t try to strike out against us out of anger, or some need for revenge?”

“Given the brutality of the Bajoran occupation and the way the Maquis were treated by the Cardassians during the Dominion War, maybe they deserve some revenge,” Riker commented.

“And that is the kind of thinking that will snatch war from the jaws of peace,” Garak said. “To be completely honest, given everything else that’s been going on, I hadn’t given much thought to the handful of Maquis prisoners we still have in our jails. On the way here, however, I drafted a treaty, if you will. Any Maquis prisoner within the Cardassian prison system will be released, on the condition that they sign a non-aggression pact.”

“And what are the conditions of that pact?” Turner asked.

“Very simply this: a condition of their release is that they will not pose an active threat to Cardassian holdings. Should they violate this agreement and be arrested again, the prison sentence will be permanent.”

“What happens if some Cardassian official causes the trouble and the former Maquis prisoner is just defending themselves?” Riker asked. “Sounds like a bad deal to me.”

“I wouldn’t sign it,” Ro volunteered.

“They’ll have a choice, and if they want their freedom after all these years, I think they’ll take it. In the meantime, I’ll have my office try and relocate these individuals, and their families if necessary, so they’re far away from Cardassian space. They can lead long, healthy lives outside of our sphere of influence, so the only way they’ll get in trouble is if they come looking for it,” Garak said.

“I’d imagine some concessions will need to be made before you can fully implement it,” Bashir said. “But it’s a vast improvement over keeping these people imprisoned forever.”

“Exactly, Doctor. Now, given that we haven’t had one of our most enjoyable conversations for some time, how would you feel about resuming this discussion over lunch?”

“Is it lunch time?” Bashir asked.

“Somewhere, Doctor. Somewhere.”

* * *

“Mister Hernandez, it’s good to have you back at the helm,” Sheppard said as the newly returned helmsman took his seat.

“Thank you, sir,” Hernandez replied.

Sheppard was still amazed that the testing of the new navigational system had almost ended in tragedy for two of his valued crewmembers. He tried not to think about close-calls though. There were enough incidents aboard Federation ships that did not end happily for those involved, and he’d had to oversee too many of those during his time as a first officer.

“We’re approaching the rendezvous coordinates,” Ch’qahrok said.

“Initiate a long-range scan. Let’s see if they’re there waiting for us,” Sheppard said. Given the missed rendezvous they’d had earlier, this one was making him nervous.

“There’s something there,” Ch’qahrok said, “But I can’t confirm that it’s the stealth probe.

“Well, it’s a stealth probe,” Sheppard said. “They aren’t supposed to announce their presence.”

“Coming out of warp,” Hernandez said.

Sheppard watched the viewscreen as the ship re-entered normal space. “Put the ship on visual.”

The screen shifted and Sheppard immediately recognized the wedge shape of a Galor class Cardassian ship. His eyes widened in shock. Although he hadn’t been briefed on the mission, he was pretty sure that stealing a Cardassian warship was not part of the plan. “Yellow alert. Have power to shields and phasers ready. Hail the Cardassian vessel.”

“They’re responding,” Tavika said. “Putting them on screen.”

The screen shifted from the starfield to what appeared to be a middle-aged Cardassian. “This is Captain Sean Sheppard of the U.S.S. Horizon.”

“Elim Garak, of the Cardassian government.” Sheppard thought he recognized the man, but he had never met him, even when he’d been living aboard Deep Space Nine as a refugee from the Obsidian Order. Despite having not met him, he was well aware of his history. “I seem to have found some of your officers. I’m honestly not sure how they managed to get lost.”

“You haven’t harmed them, have you?” Sheppard asked.

Garak gave the most charming smile the captain had ever seen on a Cardassian. “Certainly not! They have been my guests for the past little while. Doctor Bashir and I have been friends for many years. As a matter of fact, if the Federation wanted a tour of Cardassian prison facilities, you should have asked him to contact me directly.”

“Thank you for returning them.”

“Captain, it’s very important for interstellar relations that we respect one-another’s borders. I suggest you help your officers stay in their own space from this point forward, as our worlds can still be dangerous places for Humans. I believe the older gentleman who was with them failed to return intact.”

Sheppard assumed the one Garak was speaking of was Pressman, since he’d been the most senior member of the team. He wasn’t particularly upset to hear of the man’s demise, given what few things he knew about him. “I’m sorry to hear that,” Sheppard said.

“As am I,” Garak said. “It was quite unnecessary.”

“As a representative of the Cardassian government, I also have twenty-three other individuals aboard with me who have been guests for the past several years. I would like to transfer them to your care, as they’ve worn out their welcome on our worlds.”

Sheppard assumed the others Garak was speaking of were Maquis prisoners from the Dominion War, or earlier. “I’d be happy to offer them passage to Federation worlds, though I’m not sure how easy it’s going to be for them to integrate back into Federation society, if they are who I think they are.”

“Captain, that consideration is beyond my ability to remediate.”

Sheppard bristled but refrained from commenting further on the subject. Behind him, the door to the turbolift opened. Sheppard looked back to see Turner, Bashir, Ro, and surprisingly, the unmistakable but bedraggled looking Riker step through onto the bridge. “Mister Garak, thank you for everything you’ve done today.

“My pleasure. Garak out.” The viewscreen reverted to the starfield as the Galor class ship jumped to warp.

Sheppard looked at Riker. He’d seen the captain of the Titan enough times, but this man had long, wild hair, and was skinnier, and there was a hard edge to his visage that he’d never seen before in Will Riker. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re Thomas Riker,” he said.

Riker nodded in response.

“What happened to Erik Pressman?” Sheppard asked.

“He was killed in action,” Ro replied. “The Cardassian government decided to allow us to beam his remains back to the Horizon for a proper burial.”

Sheppard looked to Turner. “Are you okay?”

His first officer made eye contact with Tavika at the tactical station. “It was a tough assignment, but we pulled through… most of us anyway. I’m anxious to resume my duties aboard the ship,” she replied.

“As am I,” Bashir said.

Epilogue

Adriana Cunha smiled as the plate of pasta was placed in front of her by the lounge server and she looked across the table to Antonio Hernandez. “Thanks for inviting me here,” she said with a smile.

Hernandez returned the smile and held her gaze. “I have to be honest with you. I really didn’t think we were coming back from that mission.”

“I’ve been on two away missions now, and both of them could have resulted in my death. Is this what serving aboard a starship is really like?” Cunha asked.

“It can be,” Hernandez said. “But other times it’s nothing more than tending to your regular duties for months at a time, day in and day out.”

Cunha was quiet for a moment. “So are we going to talk about what happened?”

“The kiss?” Hernandez asked.

“Yeah, the kiss, and the fact that you said you’re interested in a romantic relationship with me,” Cunha said.

“Is that something you’re open to?” Hernandez asked.

“You know I outrank you,” Cunha said.

“Yes, but that’s not relevant since I don’t report to you,” Hernandez replied.

“Well,” Cunha said, “Do you know of any holodeck programs we should check out?”

“When was the last time you saw Paris in the fall?” Hernandez asked.

“I’ve never seen it,” Cunha said.

“Well, then maybe we should go after we’re done eating.”

“I think I’d like that,” Cunha said with a mischievous grin. “Or, maybe we could skip that and go check out the Risa program.”

“Do holographic Horga’hn’s work the same way?” Hernandez asked.

“The only way to find out is to give it a try,” Cunha said.

* * *

Tavika stood outside of Kevia Turner’s quarters and tapped the chime button. A moment later, the door opened, and she looked beyond and saw a tired looking Turner sitting on her couch, a cup of coffee at her side. She stepped inside, but stopped by the door.

“I just wanted to stop in and see how you’re doing. It sounds like the mission wasn’t easy.” She immediately worried that her motivations were obvious, and that her methods were awkward at best. Still, Ch’qahrok’s words echoed with her, and it was still better to offer her friendship and support, if nothing else.

Turner climbed to her feet and approached the Romulan woman. She approached slowly, reached out and took her hand gently. “Don’t say anything. Don’t expect that this is going to go anywhere. But tonight, I can really use your company.”

Tavika moved in closer and slid a hand around to caressTurner’s back, then touched the First Officer’s lips lightly with her own. She remained silent.

* * *

Thomas Riker looked at himself in the mirror. For the first time in years he had a proper haircut, his beard was trimmed, and all the dirt and grime he’s been forced to tolerate in that damnable prison had been washed away. The soil on his soul would probably take much longer to wash away, but like so many other things, he would assimilate this experience as well and move on with his life. It was only marginally worse than the years he’d spent alone on Nervala IV.

It had been suggested that he don black garb to go with his new station, and he decided to implement that immediately. He didn’t belong in a Starfleet uniform, and he’d been all too eager to get out of the prison uniform.

“Computer, locate Ro Laren,” Riker said.

“Ro Laren is in the Twilight Lounge.”

Riker left his quarters and made his way to the lounge. Upon entering, he saw the Bajoran woman sitting at the bar, drinking something he couldn’t identify by sight. He walked up to her and took a seat next to her.

“I’ve spoken to Command, and the two of us will not be sharing the same assignments,” Ro said quietly.

“Why not?” Riker asked, flashing her the most charming smile he could muster.

“Section Thirty-One assigns resources as efficiently and effectively as possible,” Ro said.

Riker moved in closer. “Well then, I guess the two of us only have a little while to get to know each other.”

Ro pulled away and shot him with a fierce glance. “Don’t bet on it.”

“Is this because you served with Will?”

“Absolutely. I know what you’re about, Thomas Riker. I did my duty under Erik Pressman and nothing more. Don’t think of me as a friend, don’t think of me as an ally, and don’t think of me as one of your conquests. Best yet, just don’t think of me at all.”

Riker backed off. “Understood.” He stood up, decided that it would be best to simply leave the lounge and avoid his Section Thirty-One counterpart for the time being.