Chapter Text
"Where are you, Naprem? It's time to go!" Gul Dukat, commander of Terok Nor, was impatient.
"Right here –" she came out of the bedroom they shared. "Just making certain that nothing important has been left behind."
"After six weeks of packing, if anything is left I doubt it will be of any significance. And in any case, I could always send it along to you later. Where is Ziyal?"
"Saying goodbye to Nurse. You know at her age this kind of thing is difficult. And it's not as if we had far to walk – only up to the docking ring. We won't be late."
Even now, there was no hint of irritation about her, no annoyance or fluster at his own ill-temper. She smiled serenely at him, and he felt his heart skip a beat. After all these years, he thought. It was hard now to remember a time when he hadn't thought her beautiful – but of course, there had been…
* * *
The head of the Kalota Mining Settlement laughed. "I should think so," he said with a knowing look. "This is – what, the eighth one you've traded off in your first two years? Your prowess is becoming downright legendary! But you've only yourself to blame if you wear them out so fast."
"It's no laughing matter from here," Dukat grumbled. "Believe it or not, most of the time it's been simply that they bore me too quickly. And the one time I thought I had one who wouldn't become dull for a while…"
"That would be the last but one?"
Dukat sighed. "You'd think she would have been grateful. After all, the duties of a station servant are far less onerous than those of a uridium mine worker. But no, she had to have a flair for the dramatic!"
The older man shook his head. "There was nothing you could have done, Dukat," he said quietly. "Most of these Bajorans are tame enough – but some of them it just takes that way, and you can't tell one sort from the other until it happens. I suppose they see it as the ultimate escape. Still, to have cut her throat in your own bed with your own dagger… does seem a little excessive."
"I didn't know she even knew where I kept it. Not to mention that all the bed furnishings were absolutely ruined – soaked with blood beyond redemption, even the field generator was shorted out. Try explaining that when you requisition a new one!"
"Embarrassing," Rumik agreed. "You were lucky she didn't use it on you first."
"I know," said Dukat wryly. "Unfortunately, so does Elim Garak." He scowled at some private thought, and then leaned forward. "'Legendary' prowess or not, I want to stop this… unseemly parade. Do you have any suggestions?"
There was a long pause. "If you're serious about this…?"
"I am."
"Then I might indeed have a suggestion," Rumik said. "You younger officers…" He shook his head indulgently. "The first Occupation posting sends you reeling, all of you alike. Once you settle down enough to start thinking with your heads again, I bring out the ones worth keeping. There's more to a woman than looks, even when the woman is a Bajoran slave. And there's one I've been saving out for just this occasion."
Dukat looked skeptical. "What makes her so special?" he asked.
"I think I'll let you find that out for yourself," Rumik replied with a smile. "Frankly, it would be a kindness to me if you'd take her; she's not suited for mining work, and if she sickens again I'll have to have her killed – which would be a great pity. But take my word for it, she's more what you're looking for than that string of empty-headed beauties you've been picking. Not that she's ugly, mind you – I wouldn't do that to you. Just look her over, and then tell me what you think. Her name is Tora Naprem."
At first glance, she didn't look promising – a rail-thin, ragged Bajoran woman of no special beauty, sitting dispiritedly in her cell. Dukat was even more skeptical. After having his choice of the finest the camps had to offer, this seemed like a joke. But then he remembered how quickly all the "finest" women had ceased to interest him, and Rumik's counsel on other occasions had been to his benefit. It was at least worth a try, and if it didn't work out he could always bring her back.
He nodded to the guard. "Let me speak with her." The door opened, and she looked up. Well, one point in her favor – she didn't flinch. And another – her eyes made up for a lot in the way of looks. They were a clear, deep sea-green, unusual even among Bajorans and unheard-of on Cardassian women; Dukat found himself staring, and had to recall himself sharply to business.
"Tora Naprem?" She nodded, but said nothing. "I am Gul Dukat of the Second Order, commander of Terok Nor. I require a servant, and Gul Rumik speaks well of you. Pack your belongings; I will send someone to collect you within the hour."
She stood up. "I have no 'belongings' here beyond what I wear now," she said. "We may go immediately if you wish."
So quickly, he thought, and so calmly? For this was not the resignation of a depressed and broken slave. Naprem's expression was serene; those eyes had taken his measure in one quick glance and accepted her fate. Rumik is right, he thought, momentarily taken aback; this one is special.
He recovered his composure quickly. "Very well, come along." She walked, very properly, one pace behind him as they headed for his shuttle.