Star Trek: Terok Nor 03: Dawn of the Eagles Read Online Free PDF

not seen him. She smiled quickly, but he did not smile back, looking very much as though he intended to go on his way without acknowledging her. Though it was rude, the possibility that she would not have to speak to him filled Natima with great relief.
    “Miss Lang?” Damar called.
    She could not reasonably ignore him in Russol’s presence, not without a lengthy explanation that she would rather not give. She nodded to Russol.
    “Another time, I hope,” she said lightly, and he smiled, spreading his arm in a gesture of polite dismissal. Damar strode through the other soldiers in his unit to approach her.
    “Hello…Gil Damar,” Natima said, after searching his uniform for signs of his rank. She was surprised to see that he was still a gil, for it seemed that his military position had been rising rather quickly back on Terok Nor, over a decade ago. She remembered, then, that he had been a favorite of Dukat—until he had fallen from the prefect’s good graces, following the incident that resulted in Veja’s injury.
    “Hello, Miss Lang,” Damar addressed her, his voice reflecting an edge that indicated a pronounced dislike. He had never made a secret of his opinion of Natima, and she knew that he would not have approached her at all without compelling reason.
    “I am here on behalf of the Information Service,” Natima said, raising her netcam. She hoped to keep the exchange relatively free from topics that would cause discomfort for either of them. “Perhaps you would like to make a statement—”
    “Do you ever speak to Veja Ketan?” Damar interrupted.
    So much for avoiding discomfort . “Yes,” she said, keeping her voice hard and steady. “I still see her from time to time. She works within the fact-checking division of the service now, and mostly stays out of the field. She has a little house on Cardassia IV, but then she also stays in the Paldar sector, during the cold months.”
    “So…she is well,” Damar said hollowly. “She is…does she ever speak of me?”
    Natima coughed. “No,” she lied. She did not wish to continue this line of conversation. “Tell me, Gil Damar, do you have anything to say to the people of Cardassia regarding the situation in the border colonies?”
    “The border colonies,” he snarled. “They are a waste of Cardassia’s resources. I won’t miss being there.”
    “So, you’re not to be sent back, I gather?”
    “No. I’m to be made glinn next service quartile, and then I’m to join a freight crew for a shipping operation.”
    Natima nodded. All of Cardassia’s interstellar shipping concerns were overseen by Central Command. Officer on a freight crew was still “military” work, but it was a lucrative and therefore much coveted assignment; there were subsidies, contracts, even benefits, depending on the runs. Still, there was no glory in such work.
    “Well then! Congratulations are in order regarding your new rank—and your new assignment,” Natima said. She could hear how brittle and false she sounded. “I hear that serving on a freighter can be an exhilarating existence—plenty of travel, meeting people, experiencing new cultures—”
    “I’m sure it will suit me fine,” Damar said flatly. “But Bajor is where I would rather be.” He spat on the ground, as if to illustrate his feelings on the matter.
    Natima stepped back from Damar, speechless and disgusted at the gesture. Why would Damar want to return to the place that had nearly destroyed him? Natima herself had vowed never to go back to Bajor if she could possibly help it. Besides the danger, there was the remoteness, the climate, the awful smells—and the dust! Natima would never forget that terrible, choking dust, from the reddish dirt that turned to mud in the humid cold, thick and crusty like wet concrete.
    “I would devote my life to the pursuit and execution of the insurgents of Bajor,” Damar said, his expression icy cold, completing his statement without words. Because of