by S. D. Perry
The worst part was that she could understand that point of view. Strategically, the idea was sound, especially if they could secure the other end of the wormhole against further intrusion. Unfortunately, it was also rash and inappropriate, but she could see how the logic of defense, fueled by resentments and bitterness over a long and terrible war, could sway a crowd of politicians and admirals into making such a choice. She saw how the Klingons and the Romulans might push for an excuse to redress what they saw as deficiencies of the treaty—neither had been happy with the noninterference provisions—but Kira was stunned and not a little disappointed that the Federation was willing to spearhead it.
And there’s Odo. She hadn’t brought it up with Ross, aware that it would seem like an emotional argument coming from her, but she couldn’t believe that Odo wasn’t being figured into the equation. After his celebrated role in ending the war, he had gone back to the Link partly with the hope of teaching the Founders tolerance—and she believed that he could, that if it was possible, Odo would do it. But if the Allies undermined his efforts by sending troops, if they’d already withdrawn their faith in him, she had little doubt that he would lose tremendous ground with his people.
All of this flashed through Kira’s mind in an instant, rekindling her anger, but she stamped it solidly down. She wasn’t going to encourage dissent just to validate her own opinions. Besides, preaching to the converted would take energy, and she couldn’t spare it.
“Admiral Ross was sympathetic, but he has his orders. I’ve registered my protest, and will urge the Bajoran provisional government to do the same, but there’s nothing else we can do.”
Again, there was a brief silence, looks of anger and worry, and Kira pushed on to station status. Whatever the Federation planned, it wasn’t going to be resolved by any of them, not here and now, and there were more immediate problems to discuss.
An exhausted Nog gave them a rundown on reconstruction efforts, glumly listing the most critical first and quickly descending into a morass of minor disasters, everything from roaming power failures to industrial replicator malfunctions. Dax, back on temporary engineering duty, helpfully threw in a few that he’d forgotten before briefly touching on station morale. There wasn’t much for her to say outside of the obvious; people were moving from shock into depression and anxiety.
Bowers and Shar both briefly reported on technical aspects of their respective departments—with everything powered down and no tactical capacity, not much was happening beyond hands-on manual work, cleaning, testing, or recalibrating. Bashir’s medical report was even shorter, statistics and supply needs delivered in a soft, tired voice, dark circles beneath his eyes…and Ro basically had nothing—rehashed security measure reviews from the handling of the crisis, final effectiveness assessments, recommendations for new drill procedures. Kira was hard-pressed not to let her irritation show.
“Anything yet on the investigation into the Promenade deaths?” she asked.
“It’s ongoing,” Ro said blandly. “I’ll file a report as soon as there’s any progress.”
Her tone was inflectionless, but the way she glanced away gave Kira a sense that she wasn’t being entirely forthcoming.
“Do you have any leads?” Kira encouraged, hearing an edge in her voice and not able to stop it. “Anything?”
“Colonel, as soon as there’s any progress, I’ll file a report,” Ro said, this time firmly meeting Kira’s gaze, her own unflinching.
For a fraction of a second, Kira had a satisfyingly clear mental flash of throwing Ro against a wall. Aware that Bashir and Dax were exchanging a look over the tense interplay, Kira let it go—but only for the moment; it was past time for her and Ro to have a private conversation. “Fine. Let’s move on.”
They spent the next few minutes running through priorities and plans, Kira making her recommendations as they went along. She pushed Nog into agreeing to delegate more responsibility, and they talked about coordinating with the arriving technicians. Bashir and Dax were going to start collaborating on an agenda to help station residents in emotional distress. Kira emphasized the need for the station to continue coordinating Cardassian relief efforts in spite of the present situation; ships would continue to pour in for inspection and certification, and too many lives were depending on them to let that process be disrupted. The Federation-sanctioned task force wasn’t mentioned again, or included as a factor in their immediate agenda; they needed to worry about making their own environment livable and working again.
The meeting was about to break when Kira remembered the one decent piece of news that Ross had given her. “I almost forgot—Starfleet commendations are pending for Nog and Prynn Tenmei—and Lieutenant Ezri Dax’s name has been submitted for, let’s see if I remember this right…the Starfleet Citation for Conspicuous Gallantry, I believe it’s called.”
Everyone smiled, even Ro. Dax rolled her eyes.
“I assume you’ll be switching to command now—congratulations, Captain,” Bashir joked, earning another round of smiles. Ezri saluted him. It wasn’t much, but it was the only light moment Kira expected to have for a while, and she was grateful for it.
She hadn’t planned to say anything else, but as they stood up to leave, Kira realized she wasn’t quite finished.
“Listen…this is a difficult time, but we’ll get through it. We’ve come through worse. I just wanted you to know that I’m glad you’re all here.”
Not overly inspired, perhaps, but Kira felt better for having said it. This was her crew, these were her friends, and she’d do right by them no matter what it took.
It was late for lunch, and Quark’s was mostly empty. There was still plenty of activity going on around the station, but the majority of those visiting on personal business—Quark’s clientele, mostly—had decided to depart for safer seas following the attack.
They had the right idea, Kasidy thought. The quiet is nice though, for a change. They sat on the balcony, looking over an agreeably subdued Quark’s. Kas was relieved not to be shouting over the blitz of a dabo tournament, and thought that Kira was, too; her friend was obviously in need of some peace. As it was, she’d only been able to spare enough time for a single raktajino, and Kasidy was ready to bet that it was the first break she’d taken in hours.
“…but other than that, things are looking up,” Kira was saying, the haggard tightness around her eyes and mouth indicating otherwise. Considering the list of the station’s ongoing technical problems—and what was brewing with Starfleet—Kas wasn’t surprised. “The Militia techs will stay at least a week, maybe longer.”
“Things will go much faster with all the help,” Kas said. She was trying to be helpful and supportive; Kira had certainly been those things for her since Benjamin had been gone, but the truth of it was, she was impatient to leave the station. If it was just her, it would be different…but with young Rachel Jadzia or Curzon Tye (maybe, she silently reminded herself; a week ago, she’d been absolutely fixed on Sylvan Jay and Joseph Cusak) to consider, her priorities had undergone a major shift. During the attack, in the reinforced corridor where she’d crouched and waited with the other frightened residents, terrified that she’d be injured in some way that might affect the baby, she’d made her decision—to turn down the next couple of assignments with the Commerce Ministry so that she could move as soon as possible. The station wasn’t safe, and not far away was the quiet patch of land where home waited, sunlight streaming in the windows, an herb garden freshly planted out back….
“…don’t you agree?”
Kas blinked, quickly replaying the conversation she’d missed. She’d read that a lot of women suffered lapses of concentration during pregnancy, but she couldn’t blame everything on hormones. Some friend I’m turning out to be.
“Yes,” Kas said firmly, picking up the thread again. “By the time they get here, everything will be different. They’ll have to reconsider once they cool down a little, put things in perspective. Hey, look at the bright side—
at the very least, there will be a few more Starfleet engineers running around for a couple of days while the brass sorts everything out. Between them and the Militia techs, the station will be taken care of, finally…and then maybe you can get away for a few days. Like we talked about.”
Kira stared down into her cup of raktajino, surely lukewarm by now. “I don’t know, Kas. It sounds wonderful, it really does, but you’ll be getting settled in, and there’s just so much for me to do now that Tiris is gone….”
“Well, forget about that ‘getting settled in’ stuff, you know I’d love the company,” Kas said firmly. “And you’ve been so great—without you, the house wouldn’t be half finished by now. Really, you deserve to come down and spend a few days just sitting around and reading books, or wandering around in the garden….”
Kira shook her head, and Kas trailed off, wondering why such a strong, brilliant woman insisted on making things so hard for herself. Kas waited until Kira looked up and held her gaze, determined to get through. She was going to push, and hope that she wasn’t overstepping the bounds of their friendship.
“Nerys, the strain is showing. You haven’t had a break since the day you took command. I know things are a mess right now, but you’re going to have to schedule a few deep breaths now and then, or you’re going to burn yourself out.”
Kira looked away, and after a moment, she started to speak in a quiet, low tone, indirectly responding to Kas’s question. “I hadn’t seen Istani Reyla in years, or talked to her. I didn’t even know she was here until after she was killed.”
Kasidy already knew that Kira had been friends with the monk who’d been murdered on the Promenade, one of the Commerce secretaries had mentioned it at the morning admin meeting, but it was the first Kira had talked about it. Probably to anyone.
“That must have been terrible,” Kasidy said softly.
Kira nodded. “I’m going to miss her. We haven’t stayed close, but I’m going to miss knowing that she’s out there.”
“I know what that’s like,” Kas said, not elaborating. Kira didn’t need to share, she needed to get it out.
“If she was just someone I knew from before, it would be bad enough,” Kira said, finally looking at Kas again, a wrenching expression of wounded confusion in her eyes. “But she was such an amazing person—at Singha, at the labor camp where I met her…she was a prylar then, and she must have known what I was doing with the resistance, but she didn’t care.”
Kira shook her head, wearing a faint, incredulous smile. “I mean, here was this woman who truly believed that all life was sacred, and I was just a child, and I’d already killed people…and she used to tell me the story about how the Prophets filled the oceans and painted the sky, and she taught me how to braid my hair, of all things…she tried to encourage me to be a child, in spite of what my life was. Or maybe because of what it was.”
“What a gift,” Kas said quietly, sincerely.
Kira nodded, her face working as though she were trying not to cry, but her voice was as strong and clear as ever. “Truly.”
Patiently, Kasidy sipped her tea as Kira got hold of herself, aware that she would withdraw from a gush of sympathy. Considering that Nerys prided herself on her near-perfect autonomy, Kas had some idea of the effort it had taken for her to talk about her feelings.
Time to pull out the fail-safe, a simple but perfectly wonderful trick that Kas had recently discovered.
“So, are you still going to be godmother to this baby, or am I going to have to find someone else, ’cause you’re too busy?” Kas asked.
The lines of tension on Kira’s face almost magically lifted, her whole demeanor changing, a more positive outlook reflected in her very posture. Kasidy had asked her almost a month ago, explaining the honorary term and receiving an enthusiastic yes. They’d only been close for a relatively short time, but their friendship had come to mean a lot to Kasidy. Inviting her to be godmother was Kas’s first real solo decision regarding the baby, too, so it felt good to talk about it, to remind herself that she was moving forward instead of simply waiting.
“Don’t you dare,” Kira said. “I promise I’ll take a vacation, okay?”
Kas relaxed. Just seeing Kira smiling again, really smiling, was enough to put any real concern to rest. For Kira, the birth would be doubly blessed; she’d be godmother to Kas and Ben’s baby, but also an important figure to the child of the Emissary…although that wasn’t a part of it that Kas liked to think about too much. Attention, even fame, was going to be unavoidable—they were going to be living on Bajor, after all—but she meant to do what she could to see that their child was protected from the kind of religious fervor that had surrounded Ben.
Kira took another sip of her raktajino and grimaced, pushing the cup aside as she stood up. “I have to get back to ops. But thank you, Kas. Really.”
She already seemed less exhausted, less stressed. Kas smiled, glad to have been able to help, watching Kira move down the stair spiral with a satisfied feeling. It felt good to have a close female friend again, to know that she could give support as well as be supported when things weren’t ideal. It made maintaining a grounded approach to her life a lot easier….
Kas happened to glance down as Kira was leaving the bar, in time to see the colonel freeze in her tracks—and shoot a startled, suspicious glance all around her. It was only for a second; Kira seemed to realize that she was in public, such as it was—only Morn at the bar, less than a dozen patrons scattered throughout Quark’s—and then she turned and quickly walked out before anyone noticed her behavior. But Kas had seen it, and felt her good mood stilled by that odd look. Because it meant that Nerys might be in trouble, real trouble.
Now who’s paranoid? Hormones again. Kira had heard something, that was all, or…she only thought she had.
Kas drank the last of her tea, running through her mental packing lists, refining plans for the move…and found herself unable to ignore the small knot of worry that had bloomed in her mind.
Ro Laren was in the security office, absorbed in something on her desk console, the drab setting still so thoroughly Odo that Quark decided immediately he would give her a discount on remodeling accessories. She was simply too magnificent a gem to be surrounded by such…Odo-ness.
He straightened his coat and stepped into the office, as uncomfortable as ever in the environment of the law, but determined. He hadn’t seen Ro since leaving her at the infirmary; he’d wanted to visit her, but besides having to oversee the repairs to his much-too-empty bar (Broik had actually attempted to replace some of the broken shelves with a higher grade of Foamet, trying to justify the expense in terms of durability, the witless slug), he’d felt strangely reluctant to go to her quarters. As if she didn’t owe him her life, and wouldn’t be thrilled to see him….
…so why so worried? He wasn’t sure—but no, not true. He was simply a hopeless romantic, eternally doomed when it came to a pretty face and a nice set of hands, and Ro Laren made him quiver with all sorts of foolishness. Love made idiots of men, common knowledge—and thank the Great River for such stupidity, lovers loved to spend—but being the idiot wasn’t a strong position from which to bargain. Making his intentions obvious would give her an advantage, and if he wasn’t very careful, someone like Ro could embezzle his very soul. Not a big deal in and of itself; souls were too ethereal to be worth much. But his willingness to offer her genuine discounts, that was frightening.
When she finally looked up, the smile she favored him with very nearly paid for the flowers he’d sent. “Quark! Come in, have a seat. I was going to come by and see you later.”
He smiled winningly and sat down in one of the chairs across from her, unable to remember a time when he’d been welcomed into DS9’s security office. “I can’t stay long. I just wanted to stop by and see how you were feeling…and see if you got the tube orchids.”
He considered telling her how expensive they were, but decided it would be wisest to hold his tongue. She wasn’t a da
bo girl, after all; in fact, he suspected she was the type who didn’t care about such things.
I always seem to fall hardest for the crazy ones….
“I did, thank you,” she said, still smiling warmly. “And I’m feeling fine, thanks to you. Dr. Bashir said that you rescued me after I was thrown off the stairs.”
Quark cast his gaze modestly to the floor, saying the words he’d rehearsed in his mind on the way over. “It was a considerable risk, of course—but even with the station falling to pieces all around us, I knew I couldn’t just leave you there to die….”
He looked up at her, gauging her reaction. She was still smiling, still receptive; he kept going. “…because that would have been a tragedy beyond all measure, Laren. May I call you Laren?”
Her smile grew. “I believe you just did. Seriously, Quark, thank you. There’s a good chance that you saved my life, and I’ll always be grateful to you for that.”
He grinned back at her, his heart singing, thinking of all the shipments that wouldn’t be inspected, all the time he’d be able to save not having to sneak around to conduct business (time wasn’t latinum, but they were interdependent), of how she’d look draped on his arm wearing something slinky—and then she opened her mouth again, and his dreams fizzled into so much smoke.
“Of course, I’m not going to let you get away with anything because of it,” she continued brightly, a bit too brightly. “Now that I think of it, I’ll have to watch you even more closely than before. We wouldn’t want anyone to suspect that there was some kind of favoritism going on. Because of my appreciation for your bravery, I mean.”
She was still smiling, and smiling back at her, he scrambled to salvage what he could, the 285th Rule of Acquisition running through the back of his mind like a curse. “No good deed ever goes unpunished.” It was always the 285th that got him, he could have it tattooed on his forehead and he’d still forget it.