by S. D. Perry
“Solemnly,” Gard said.
“The outer office is locked down and being monitored from ops, so if you were to try . . .”
“I won’t,” Gard said quickly. If she only meant to give him something, she could use the meal slot; either she was coming in, or he was being let out. It seemed that word had filtered to her that he wasn’t as dangerous as everyone had initially assumed.
Gard stayed seated as Ro paused his cell’s shield, stepping inside with the drinks and padd before tapping the remote on her hip. The shield hummed back into place as she sat and handed him a cup, setting the padd down on the bunk between them.
“Tea,” Ro said, as he sniffed the clear liquid. “A blend that Quark came up with.”
It had a pleasant, flowery scent, about as Ferengi as a free meal, but Gard had noted the bartender’s special attachment to Ro, as well as Ro’s openness to the concept. Quark had more going for him than met the senses.
Gard sipped at the tea, surprised by the delicate taste, and was about to say as much when Ro started talking.
“You’ll have to stay here a while longer, but they told me to give you basic computer access . . . and assured me you weren’t dangerous.”
Gard nodded, burying an appreciative smile in spite of his surprise . . . and disappointment, that he would be stuck in a cell for a while longer. Her blunt nature was infinitely refreshing, and why he’d been attracted to her from the first. Sadly, that ship had sailed. If he tried to explain that the flirting hadn’t had anything to do with gaining access to Shakaar, she wouldn’t believe him.
Gard sipped his tea, waiting. After so many lifetimes of reading faces, he saw clearly that the security officer wasn’t holding back.
“I thought you might be willing to talk to me about a few things,” Ro said. “For instance . . . what can you tell me about the parasites?”
“Nothing you don’t already know,” Gard said, almost honestly. “There are a few Trill, myself included, who have been watching for them. For a long time.”
“Because of what happened on the comet,” Ro said, referring to the disastrous field expedition a century before, that had killed a symbiont and host. Dax’s husband at the time, in fact.
“And the similar chemistry,” he added.
“You knew Shakaar was infected,” Ro said. “Do you know where it happened?”
There were no confidences to be blown, not anymore. “Yes,” he said. “It’s why I came. We began tracing him after he started asking questions about Trill’s defense network.”
Ro’s gaze brightened. “So you know where he was infected?”
“No,” he said, but felt the warmth of sudden interest. “We managed to narrow it down to five places from the timeline, three planets and two starbases, but we didn’t have the resources to follow up.”
Ro pulled a small padd from her hip belt. “Do you remember the names of the five?”
Gard grinned. He did, in fact . . . and with access to a Federation computer system and Ro’s help, there was something useful he could do from a locked cell, after all.
* * *
“ . . . and he said she’s doing great, and that his grandfather, Joseph, will be there soon, within a week—and it turns out, he’s coming with the chief! And Keiko and their children, too. Jake said it was a personal visit, but Chief O’Brien will come see us, he has to, I know he’ll want to see how we transferred the fusion core from Empok Nor, and I’m sure Kira will approve the trip because . . .”
Nog couldn’t seem to stop talking. Prynn didn’t mind, it was a relief to listen to something besides her own relentlessly repeating thoughts, but she thought Shar might be bothered. It was just the three of them on the Defiant’s bridge, the sensor-array control panel in pieces on the console in front of them. It seemed the colonel had ordered a complete overhaul, and wanted to know if the Defiant’s sensors could be recalibrated to detect certain chemistries. Prynn didn’t know the specifics; she was just there because she knew the equipment, and because Nog wanted her opinion on range possibilities.
Not at the moment, she thought, watching the Ferengi. Nog sat cross-legged on the floor, going through the larger chip trays a channel at a time, babbling enthusiastically about the call from his friend. Almost too enthusiastically, actually, as though it was a distraction from his own less than happy thoughts . . .
Project much? Nog was fine. It was Shar she was worried about.
She shot a sidelong glance at the science officer, working over computations on a padd next to her pile of patches and chips. Except for a tracing of irritated flesh around his eyes, he looked the way he usually looked—calm, focused, absorbed in his work. If she hadn’t seen him earlier, hadn’t seen the look on his face when he’d come to his door, she wouldn’t have suspected that anything was wrong.
The way he just stood there, like he didn’t know where he was . . . It hadn’t been simple shock, either. At the Academy, Prynn had known a boy named Tom Havers, another pilot in training. They hadn’t been close, just knew each other through mutual acquaintances, and a family tragedy had taken him out of the program before he was half finished. It so happened that she had been the first person to see him after he’d received the bad news, from one of the instructors. Prynn had been waiting for an after-hours conference in the woman’s outer office, and when Tom had walked out, she’d seen the same expression that Shar had worn earlier. “Shock” was too pallid a word, couldn’t begin to describe the blank and roaming madness in his eyes, the near break with reality created by a pain too intense to accept. She’d found out later that Tom’s parents and older sister had all been killed on a vacation they’d taken together, a life-support malfunction on their transport.
And Shar’s bondmates left him today. After seeing him so deeply affected, Prynn hadn’t been able to help asking a few questions, which Lieutenant Nguyen had been able to answer. It turned out that though she was staying behind, the Andorian ambassador’s private ship had been given leave to return to Andor, with two Andorian passengers on board. It seemed the ship would be returning, but not the passengers.
“ . . . and he and Dr. Bashir had this incredible model set up, with all these Earth battles,” Nog was saying. “It was really—Hey, do either of you have the Lindsey?”
Shar said he didn’t, as Prynn shuffled through her pile of bits and pieces for the antigrav tool. She didn’t see it.
“Didn’t Senkowski come up a while ago, borrow some stuff?” Prynn asked. Senkowski and Gordimer were both below, fine-tuning the pulse cannons or somesuch; Nog hadn’t been all that clear.
“Oh, right,” Nog said, pushing himself to his feet. “I’ll be back in a minute. Either of you want anything? The replicators are back up.”
Neither of them did. And as Nog stepped off the bridge, Prynn found herself hoping he would take his time getting back. She wasn’t sure why, she had nothing planned to say, to try and engage Shar in a talk about what had happened . . . but she hoped anyway.
It was Shar who spoke first.
“You said your father had gone to Bajor,” he said, not quite a question.
“Just this morning,” Prynn said, her stomach tightening slightly. “He said they needed him for some confidential op . . . something about the assassin’s contacts, I think.”
She looked up at him, met his gaze—which was astoundingly sharp and clear and deep, so much so that she quickly looked away, feeling slightly flustered.
“About this morning,” she said, amazed at how stupid she was acting, “I’m sorry if I bothered you.”
“It was no bother,” Shar said. “I apologize for my . . . awkwardness. I had a difficult morning.”
Prynn nodded. “Me, too.”
They were silent for a moment, Shar going back to his calculations, Prynn feeling a powerful urge to keep talking, to ask him how he felt, to tell him how she was feeling . . . and then she realized what she was doing, and why. It was surprising enough to her that her desire to converse completely dried up.
/> All those weeks on the Defiant, nothing. Not even when we spent that time together, and he told me about his situation with his bondmates, and I talked about Vaughn . . . there was nothing there. So what happened?
What happened was something that hadn’t happened to her since before flight training, when she was still in her early Academy days. Then it had been a boy named Si, who’d had about a hundred girlfriends and had never gotten around to noticing that Prynn was alive. Since then, she’d mostly kept away from romance, sticking to situations where she was in control, where she could walk away the morning after, no strings.
I’m interested, Prynn thought wonderingly, feeling the strange flush of happy, anxious recognition that came with the understanding. Maybe it was seeing him so vulnerable, so emotional and lost, just when she was feeling the same. Even before that, though, after the horror of Ruriko’s murder had turned to anger, he’d made an attempt to console her. He was her friend . . . and consolation could make unlikely bedfellows.
We’ve both suffered. We’ve both lost what family we had.
A more practical part of her stepped in. Forget it. It’s too complicated, he won’t be interested, you’ll embarrass yourself . . .
To hell with that. If she thought about it any longer, she’d lose her nerve.
“So, would you like to have lunch tomorrow?” Prynn asked, prepared for a rejection, determined not to expect one.
Shar looked up from his work, blinking, brushing strings of white hair behind one ear. He really was very pretty to look at . . . and though it had never been much of a focus for her, she knew she wasn’t all that bad, herself.
“That would be very nice,” he said. “But I may have things to do. Colonel Kira has asked that I assist with calculations in several departments in the coming days.”
“Why?” Prynn asked, not sure what his answer was. “Which ones?”
Shar hesitated, then smiled slightly. “I . . . I’m sure I can take time for lunch, though.”
Prynn smiled back, feeling that flush of fear and glee again, and liking it. She didn’t realize until much later that she had successfully distracted herself from feeling bad about Ruriko and Vaughn, if only for a few minutes.
9
KAS MANAGED TO SLEEP IN UNTIL LATE MORNING, THOUGH SHE WASN’T convinced it should be called “sleeping in,” or at least not for the extremely pregnant.
Sleep doesn’t have much to do with it, when you have to get up every hour or two to make room, she thought groggily, not wanting to move, understanding that she had no choice in the matter. How long had it been since she’d slept more than two hours in a row? It seemed like years. Add to that the breathlessness, the random aches, the inability to eat more than a half plate of food without it trying to wander back up . . . in all, though she was excited about the baby, she was finding pregnancy to be a serious chore.
At least now I’ve got a distraction, Kas thought, wincing as she heaved herself to the side of the bed, her hipbones shifting uncomfortably. Jake had come home to stay for a while, and though he’d gone to bed early the night before, obviously exhausted by his travels, it sounded like he had enough stories to tell to get her through the last days.
Which will save me from having to carry a conversation. Her last OB trip to the station, Dr. Tarses had shown her an article that explained her general clumsy confusion; it wasn’t just the lack of normal sleep, after all. Turned out that pregnancy actually caused brain shrinkage in humans for the last trimester . . . also an explanation for how she could trail off midsentence and forget what she was talking about in the space of a few seconds.
Not that very many had noticed. She didn’t have the busiest of social lives, although she had gotten to know a few of her neighbors in the last couple of months. Lately, every few days, someone would drop by with a basket of vegetables or a homemade soup or bread. And there was also the small group of monks who’d set up a makeshift camp just off the property, some ten days earlier . . . one or two of them dropped by every afternoon, just to see if she wanted anything. She had the impression that they were locals, had perhaps volunteered to watch over her as her due date came and went. It was funny, that her main worry about moving to Bajor had been that as the Emissary’s wife, she’d be treated differently. In the months since she’d settled in, she had noticed that people were especially nice to her . . . but had also noted that they were awfully nice to each other, too. Ben had chosen a beautiful piece of land to build on, but the community was what would make it feel like home.
She shuffled to the refresher and took care of business, stopping to brush and tie her hair back, smiling brightly at herself in the mirror before heading to the kitchen. It was so good, to have a reason for trying to look halfway decent—in the last month or so, she’d gotten used to wandering around in pajamas, and hadn’t bothered with her hair in weeks. All the better that the reason was Jake.
Ben’s son was sitting at the table just outside the open kitchen, reading, a scattering of plates and cups attesting to a recent breakfast. She smelled cinnamon. He looked up when she came in and grinned, setting the padd aside as he quickly stood up.
“Sit down, let me get you breakfast,” he said, pulling out a chair. “I made French toast when I got up, saved some batter . . .” He trailed off, a sudden look of anxiety on his face. “Do you want French toast? Is that going to make you sick? I can make eggs, or something. Whatever you want.”
Only a few weeks earlier she might have protested, insisting that she was perfectly capable of getting her own breakfast, thank you—but now she only laughed, taking the seat gratefully. It was sweet of him to be so attentive, and the truth of it was, moving around a lot was kind of a pain these days. “French toast sounds wonderful. And a big glass of water, if you don’t mind.”
“You got it,” Jake said, hurrying around the counter, a man with a mission. His expression suggested that he would bring her breakfast or die trying. The plus side of late pregnancy, Kas decided; she’d heard that she should enjoy it while it lasted. Once the baby came, she doubted anyone would be as eager to pamper her.
The French toast was great—his only specialty, Jake insisted—and they lingered at the table afterward, Kas listening as Jake talked about some of the things he’d seen in the Gamma Quadrant. He’d explained the night before why he’d left, apologizing about a hundred times in spite of her immediate acceptance. She’d been very upset when he’d disappeared, of course, had suffered through some serious anxiety—but had been determined not to let her pregnancy be dominated by fear, reminding herself constantly that Jake was a grown man, smart and responsible . . . and if something had happened, allowing herself to be overwhelmed by sorrow would be bad for her, and therefore bad for the baby. She thought she’d done a pretty good job of it, in all, so reassuring Jake that she was okay hadn’t been such a stretch.
Jake also had some news from the station, about what had been going on since First Minister Shakaar’s assassination—the Cardassian presence, possible conspiracy scenarios, mostly bits of news heard from Quark, through Nog. At least Kira seemed to be holding up; she’d looked very tired on yesterday’s call, but Jake said she’d seemed much better before he’d left for Bajor . . . he said she’d been very happy about Opaka Sulan’s return.
Jake talked a bit about the former kai, about how she’d escaped the moon she’d been stranded on, and what she’d done in the years since. Having never met the woman, Kas was interested, but she was also starting to wonder if she should bring up Ben. She’d told herself that she would wait for Jake to broach the topic, not wanting to push him, but she missed Ben, terribly . . . and knew that Jake felt the same. She wanted to talk about it before Jake’s grandfather arrived, with the O’Briens and Jake’s Aunt Judith; it wasn’t that they didn’t miss Ben, too, but the connections were different. Besides, Joseph was going to be so happy to see Jake, that would be an event all its own; with the communications restrictions, she hadn’t been able to get through to him, but the
runabout from Earth was due to show up sometime in the next two or three days.
“So, is it a boy or a girl?” Jake asked, eyeing her big belly with a teasing smile. “I bet it’s a boy. You know, when I talked to Dr. Bashir about it—”
Kas mock-glared at him, cutting him off. “He didn’t tell you anything. I’m his patient, he’s sworn to secrecy.”
“You know, Quark’s got a pool on it,” Jake said.
“Why am I not surprised?” Kas said. “Who’s winning?”
“Ah, I think boy is ahead, but only by a few points.”
Kas shook her head. “Maybe I’ll have twins, just to upset Quark. He’d have to give everyone’s money back.”
At Jake’s surprised look, Kas smiled. “No, Jake, it’s not twins. That, I would know.” She paused, then added wryly, “Besides, avatar wasn’t plural.”
Jake nodded slowly. It seemed he’d been filled in on a few of the other prophecies from Ohalu’s book, too, not just the one that sent him to the Gamma Quadrant. Either that, or the page that he’d been given had also referenced the Emissary’s second child; Jake had glossed over that part of last night’s explanation, apparently embarrassed that he’d thought he’d be bringing Ben home, and had instead found the kai. It was very strange, having one’s life so intricately en-twined in an ancient religion; though she might come to accept it, it wasn’t something she thought she would ever be entirely comfortable with.
“It’s weird,” Jake said, echoing her thought. “You know, having all these things revolve around Dad, and his family. It makes me wonder if we have any choice in what we do, any free will, you know?”
Kas nodded. “Let me know if you figure it out. I’m just . . . I’m hoping that he’ll come back soon. I feel like it’s time, now. I know that’s because of the baby, of how close I am . . . but I’m also afraid that he’s going to miss things, important things in our lives. Mostly, though, it’s just what I want. Maybe that’s selfish, but it’s . . . it’s what I want.”
Even as she said it, she felt the now-familiar sensations of movement in her belly, the baby pushing as it maneuvered for a more comfortable position. Without saying a word, Kas reached over and took Jake’s hand, placing it just below the left side of her rib cage.