A fine mist hung across the beige square, slowly rolling on drafts that pulled it from the nearby central river, it filled the wide square with glimmering diamonds as the morning sun gently bounced through the water vapour. As each one hovered in the air for an almost imperceptible moment, the square played host to a mass ballet of shining dancers. The vast emptiness of the open space was interrupted only by the quiet shuffling of workers setting out early, the general work day hadn’t started yet but across the immaculate beige paving slabs small figures darted in and out of the square, pulling their coats tight against the unpalatable morning chill. From the centre a grand statue of a Cardassian man, struck eternally into a striking, heroic pose, looked out onto the river that snaked its way through the capital. His shining brass eyes surveyed across the city, taking in the vista of sweeping crested towers and stout rotundas that punctuated the skyline. At the centre of his view, the focus of his timeless sentry, was the wide barrel shape of Cardassian Central Command. Rising high above the city it loomed ever present in the view of all who travelled through the city, no doubt the intention of it’s commissioners, shadowing even the expansive offices of the Detapa Council, which sprawled across a large cluster of building. Newly fashioned sky bridges stretched across wide avenues and between tiny alleys, their delicate curved walls entangling the buildings in the councils ever growing web of control. Tensions between the Council and the Order continued to grow as vastly differing agendas pressed against one another both politically and practically. As the Detapa offices continued to spread outward the Central Command built upwards; each built on delicately balanced foundations, each pinned up by the Obsidian Order who found themselves newly resurgent in this contest of influence. 

“What would you think of us Damar?” Zaya whispered to the towering statue, who vigil continued silently as children played around his feet, their rictus smiles fixed forever on their glistening faces. Seated on one of the stone benches around the edge of the square Zaya basked in the silent morning mist, appreciative of the quiet contemplation it facilitated. 

“I think he’d be rather impressed to be honest.” A barrel voice rumbled from behind her “The union is expanding again, faith in the leadership has returned to pre-war levels, our colonies are flourishing and all in spite of the Federation’s ridiculous restrictions, I might add.”

“They should pay you a strip of Latinum every time you recite that.” Zaya poked as she moved a satchel of padds from the bench next to her, inviting the man to sit. “You’d have enough to be Nagus. Then you could move to Ferenginar and stop bothering us all.” She offered her tall cup as the man sat down. 

With a slight shake of the head Natel sat, “And have to deal with all that rain? You know my skin doesn’t handle the moisture well.” As if to emphasise the point he pulled the dark jacket tighter against the chilly mist that continued to roll across the square. “I hear, i’m not the one leaving though.”

Natel had always been quick to the matter, despite the mans skill at florid rhetoric he could be uncomfortably direct. “That got around quickly.” Zaya said, lifting the steaming mug to her lips. 

“Your resignation means Central Command is losing a valuable officer. We need every Cardassian to do their bit for the Union. It’s a shame that…”

“Spare me the sales pitch Natel. I’ve given plenty of my time.” Zaya hissed as she took a great gulp from her mug, the surprisingly hot liquid burning against her tongue. “I’m done being a lackey now.” An uncomfortable silence descended upon the pair, thickening the mist into an obscuring fog between them. Her gaze shifted to Natel’s face, his lips twisted in the perpetual smug grin the intelligence office trained it’s agent’s to hold; Zaya knew beneath it a cold and calculating mind was assessing the implications of her departure.

“Alright, no pitch.” his smiled faded as a weary look creeped into the edges of his face, his deep set eyes sagged in his skull as his posture slouched, his smooth facade slipping into his pockets. “Do you really think command is going to just let you walk out? You could easily become a threat.”

“I’m about as much threat as that statue.” A sharp snort escaped her nose dismissively. 

“You’re not wrong.”

“Oh, thanks for that.” Zaya retorted, her left hand subconsciously reaching for the bag at her feet. Finding it still present, she looked to Natel. “Damar is the Hero of Cardassia! Martyr for liberation from the Dominion!” She announced, mocking the propaganda’s glorification of the man. “And a statue of Cardassia’s beloved former Legate is hardly a threat to anyone.”

“Did you know Gul Amek had his office moved to the other side of the building?” Natel whispered, his eyes scanning the towering statue. “Something to do with electrical fault.” He leant in conspiratorially, despite the squares barren emptiness. “I heard from a Gil who works in his team that he felt like the statue was peering into his office. Couldn’t handle the ‘spirit of Damar’ staring him out each day.” 

The silence in the square was overwhelmed by a curved shape of a transport that swam through the mist overhead, the low thrumming of its engines filling the square as it slowly manoeuvred towards the city’s main landing pads.

“Where will you be going?” Natel sighed, the sound of the transport abating. 

“I’ve been offered work in the demilitarized zone. Ciman II is moving on to the next stage of development and needs support in upgrading their infrastructure.” Ever since she left her parent’s farm to join the military she had missed the wide open fields, the space to breathe deeply after a hard days work. Unfortunately they had died a few years previously and the farm was no longer hers to enjoy. 

“That’s awfully close to Federation space.” Natel’s orbital crest twitched. A small tell of his ulterior line of questioning. It did not escape Zaya’s notice. 

“You can tell your masters that I have no intention of ‘betraying’ us to the Federation.” She lifted her hand to Natel’s shoulder. “I simply don’t wish to work in cramped corridors any longer.” Her experience had taught her it was easier to sell a half-truth than an outright lie. ”I’m tired of shuffling secrets up and down the halls of Central Command.”

“The concern isn’t you leaving but the secrets you might take with you.” Natel confessed. “If they even think you might be a threat…” his voice trailed off, they both knew horror stories of the Obsidian Order. Once thought crippled by a foolish venture into the Omarion Nebula their agents had scuttled out of the shadows once the Dominion had left Cardassia. Their whispered, sinister ghost had begun re-forming behind the closed doors of both the Detapa Council and Central Command. 

“I appreciate your concern Natel.” Zaya stood, slinging the satchel onto her shoulder. Reaching into her pockets she took out a pair of gloves, fiddling with the fingers she looked to the fellow Cardassian officer. “I’ve taken suitable precautions.”

His eyes flicking to the bag, Natel pursed his lips in annoyance. “So I hear.”

“These aren’t the only versions either. You can tell your masters they’ll be kept safe but should anything happen to me, I won’t be in a position to keep secrets any longer.” Slipping one glove onto her hand she wrestled with the fingers of the other as the silence of the square began to give way to the footsteps of commuters beginning their travels. 

Natel took a deep breath before standing to join her, his smooth facade of confidence returning as he turned to meet her eye. Taking the crumpled glove and untangling the fingers he offered the open wrist for her hand. “I worry that the next time I see you it will be a funeral.”

“That isn’t up to me now.” Zaya slipped her hand into the glove and allowed a small smile to grow across her face. “If you need me, i’ll be tending to the flowers.” Grasping Natel’s arm one more time she quickly turned on her heel and began walking towards the transport hub. 

Bodies continued fill the square as the morning commute came into full swing, the activity sweeping the air into a frenzy and dissipating the thousand prisms of morning fog. Expertly Natel slipped into the hubbub of bodies, destined to stand opposite his superior’s desks and assure them of Zaya’s continued secrecy. Stopping for a moment he cast his eye upward towards the eternally watchful face of Damar. High above the square at the corner of the heroic statue’s eye a pool of dawn mist gathered, now sufficient to coalesce into a stream that ran down the bronzed face; seemingly weeping for the departure of a Cardassian daughter.