Silent tears dripped down Thriss’ face. “I have to fix it—make it up to him somehow. I am horrible to have become that carried away…” Hunching over, she buried her face in her hands.
Ro looked out through the clear door and saw Dizhei entering the Promenade from the Habitat Ring bridge. Thriss twisted her dress fabric between her fingers and tapped her foot. “Can I have some juice?” She hiccupped.
While Ro went to the replicator, Matthias leaned forward, resting a hand on Thriss’ chair. “I talked with them. They’re fine and they love you,” she said softly. “Thriss?”
“And I love them, but…”
Before she could finish, Dizehi entered, greeting them in polite tones but her excellent manners failed to hide her tensed antennae and tight-lipped smile. Since the previous evening, her skin had paled markedly.
Ro handed the juice to Thriss who gulped it eagerly; she seemed relieved to have something new to do with her hands. “Thriss agreed to the terms we set forth for her release,” Ro said to Dizhei. “She’s free to leave with you, if she chooses. Or she can leave here when it suits her.” Thriss deserved the right to decide whether she went with her bondmates; Ro wondered if some of Thriss’ frustration stemmed from her relationships with them, though neither Thriss nor Matthias had mentioned problems within the bondgroup.
Thriss looked between Dizhei who, given her longing gazes and quivering antennae, might gather Thriss into her arms any moment, and Commander Matthias who offered encouraging smiles. Scooting back deeper into the chair, she took another swallow of juice.
“If you’d like to move into the anteroom, you could talk with a bit more privacy than you have here,” Ro said. She touched her combadge. “Ro to Sergeant Etana. Please make the interrogation room available to the guests I’ll be sending into your office within the next few minutes.”
“Zh’yi?” Dizhei whispered.
Thriss turned abruptly, looked up at her bondmate and searched her face for answers to some unspoken question.
“Sh’za,” Thriss said, rising from the bench. Dizhei was at her side, pulling her into a hug before she could take more than a step. A flurry of embraces, concerned glances and excited exchanges followed. Standing apart from Dizhei and Thriss’s emotional displays, Matthias gently ushered them toward the adjoining room; the two touched constantly until the door closed behind them.
Grateful that they had left, Ro exhaled loudly. “I have a few questions, Counselor.”
Matthias shrugged. “Ask away.”
“How do we know Thriss won’t be back here by tonight?”
“Typically, we’re bound by expectation.” Matthias placed her palms together contemplatively. “Since Thriss defines herself by others’ expectations, I wanted to make sure she knew we believed she was capable of meeting ours. I wanted her to know she has our trust, that we believed she could succeed.”
“Is she really going to be okay?” Ro asked, recalling Thriss’s longing as she talked about love and emotion and her life.
“She’s not going to hit you again, if that’s what worries you.”…Have you ever been in love? That question defined Thriss for Ro. “No, what I mean is, can she make it until Shar comes home?”
The counselor sighed. “If I were laying odds at Quark’s, I’d say better than even that two months from now, she’ll be on her way to Andor, with Shar, for the shelthreth. Once it’s taken care of, the worst of Thriss’ obstacles will be overcome.”
Whatever it takes. She deserves a reward for her fidelity. Though satisfied with Matthias’s answers, Ro wanted to make certain Thriss was comfortable with how her situation had been resolved. “Could you stay around, you know, just in case Thriss has any concerns, or if her bondmates decide they’d rather not have her at home?”
“I expected that I would,” she paused. “I have a favor to ask.”
“Sure.” Matthias had proved to have very few demands so Ro was willing to accommodate her in whatever way she could.
“Is there somewhere around here that I could change my clothes for the reception?” she said sheepishly.
Ro laughed, causing Matthias to blush. “You’re going? I’d heard it wasn’t mandatory for Starfleet personnel.” Would that First Minister Shakaar was as flexible as Admiral Akaar on social matters. Shakaar wanted to be impressive, prove that Bajor wasn’t the backward, orphan child of the Alpha Quadrant anymore, that she deserved to be included in the first worlds of the Federation.
“I don’t have to go. I like to dance,” she explained. “I take it if you had a choice—”
“I’d be at the gym. Or the Replimat. Or scrubbing plasma conduits. Anything but a party with dozens of dignitaries and high ranking political figures.” Ro shuddered, picturing herself monopolizing the quietest corner of the buffet table. “At least I’m on duty. Maybe I’ll get lucky and voles will invade the duct system, giving me an excuse to leave.”
Matthias laughed.
Ro gestured back toward the holding cells. “You’re welcome to use the head next to the guard’s station to change. I probably should be getting ready myself. Let me know—”
“—If there are any problems with Thriss. I will.”
“Thank you, Commander.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. See you tonight?”
“I’ll be the one eating the dip,” Ro said, hoping that Quark would supply at least one dish that wasn’t pus yellow, alive, or raw. The prospect of spending three hours in a large crowd was trying enough without having to go hungry.
Matthias pursed her lips thoughtfully, her expression entirely innocent. “I can ask Sibias to take you for a spin on the dance floor. He’s very light on his feet—”
“Don’t make me issue an order, Commander,” Ro warned, mock seriously. “You need to treat your station security chief with a certain deference.”
“Yes sir,” Phillipa said.
As she exited, Ro glimpsed Matthias’s cheeky salute. Maybe there’s hope yet for me with Starfleet if this is the kind of officer they’re growing these days. An optimism she hadn’t felt in a long time suffused her. I might actually survive the reception, she thought. Or not. Wouldn’t want to become too optimistic…
Cynics who thought Alpha Quadrant sentients could never peacefully stand side by side on any matter had never seen the stirring sight that met Kira’s eyes when she entered the formal reception room in the office station’s Upper Core, a few levels below the Promenade. Sirsy and Ensign Beyer had outdone themselves.
Festooning one broad side of the great elliptical room were vividly colored flags and banners representing the Dominion War allies and non-Federation worlds like Ferenginar. The Bajoran flag had an honored position at the front of the room, standing a half meter taller than the other flags on the right side; the Cardassian flag stood exactly opposite the Bajoran flag on the left. The United Federation of Planets flag stood even with Bajor’s and Cardassia’s flags in the room’s center. Vivid colors and symbols representing thousands of years all brought together in one place on this optimistic occasion—Kira thought she finally understood why Shakaar had been so adamant about having a celebration.
Quark’s staff had already brought down the cold appetizers and set up the heating units for the hot dishes that Kira assumed would be arriving shortly. Platters of pulpy melons, q’lavas, Palamarian sea urchins and finger-size vegetables sat beside baskets overflowing with mapa bread and whole Tammeron grain rolls. The bar had been fully stocked with languor and kanar for the Cardassians; and a selection ranging from Bajoran springwine, tranya, Saurian brandy and tulaberry wine to Vulcan port and Terran Cognac had been provided for everyone else. A service turbolift hidden behind a curtain opened, admitting half a dozen servers carrying containers that billowed steam clouds. The smells of rich broths and spices permeated the air.
Everything appeared to be coming together as planned.
Kira walked along the tables, checking the place cards by the layout displayed on her padd…. Ambassador Gandres,
Andar Fal, Hiziki Gard…that takes care of the Trill delegation. Now to the Romulan attaché— carefully situated far away from his Klingon counterpart on the other side of the room, Kira noted with relief —the representatives from the Bajoran Commerce Ministry and the Vedek Assembly; Captain Mello and her executive, Commander Montenegro, from the U.S.S. Gryphon. Thankfully, Beyer and Sirsy’s collective attention to detail resulted in perfect execution of tasks such as this one. Though Kira knew it was too late to make dramatic changes in how the room was configured, she still second-guessed the decision to put all the VIPs in one place instead of dispersing them throughout the room. She didn’t want to appear elitist, but a more egalitarian approach would have required stricter security measures and social protocols, neither of which she had time for.
Important guests would eat at long, rectangular banquet tables placed in two L-shapes mirroring each other; all tables faced the center of the room so every honored guest would be visible to every other honored guest. Additional invitees would be seated at smaller, more intimate circular tables behind the main tables. Seating decisions had been preassigned based on rank, delegation, and organizational and planetary affiliation. Since Kira had received the guest list, Beyer had learned of several old grudges still being nursed and a few badly ended romantic relationships that required a reassessment of some of those assignments, but for the most part, this was a group that knew how to behave themselves.
At Sirsy’s insistence, Kira sat between Admiral Akaar and the Bajoran government’s delegation. “A bridge between who we are and who we will be!” she’d enthused. Kira didn’t buy the symbolism. As station commander, she held a highly visible position, but this night—this reception—wasn’t about her. It was about Bajor and Cardassia’s tentative steps toward dealing with each other as equals. She didn’t want to distract from the task at hand on any level and she accepted that, to many Bajorans, she was a distraction.
She already knew that Shakaar had tapped Second Minister Asarem to deal with any Cardassian business that might follow the reception, while he, as first minister, would remain focused on the Federation talks. Though they’d met before, Kira knew Asarem mostly by reputation: a sharp negotiator who had campaigned for her present job by taking a hard line on all things Cardassian. Her party’s role in Shakaar’s coalition had been to represent the views of older, Occupation-era Bajorans who still favored a hawkish stance; Kira had heard gossip that Asarem had privately protested Kira’s role in helping Damar’s resistance during the Dominion War. Asarem felt that, regardless of the strategic value of undermining the Dominion’s stranglehold on the Cardassian military, a Bajoran national such as Kira shouldn’t serve the Cardassians in an advisory role: should complications arise, it would be too easy to blame Bajor or make accusations that escalated the existing bad blood between the two worlds.
Kira hadn’t seen Gul Macet since he’d visited ops. She assumed he’d been assisting Ambassador Lang. Since Macet had requested time on the program, Kira had contemplated—and worried about—what he or Lang might have planned. It’s probably nothing worse than a proclamation from Alon Ghemor or a plaque commemorating this “historic occasion.” But no matter how she tried to reassure herself, Kira remained uneasy. Cardassians irritated her.
No, she amended her last thought. Macet especially irritates me.
From out in the corridor, Kira heard the low buzz of chatter from the first group of guests to arrive. Shakaar’s enthusiastic voice rose above the noise. Seeing that the first minister would be serving as the gathering’s host, Kira was glad he had arrived before the others; she had no desire to play host, covering for his absence with small talk. Because Sirsy accompanied Shakaar’s party and she knew how the evening was to go forward, Kira could disappear until her presence was required. The room might be ready, but she still had a few items on her list before she could say she was finished. She discreetly moved to a position by the curtained turbolift and touched her combadge. “Kira to Ensign Beyer.”
“Go ahead, Colonel.”
“Report to the reception hall, Ensign. Guests are arriving and I don’t have a clue what to do with them,” she whispered, hoping she could go unnoticed for a few minutes longer.
“On my way, sir. I was helping Quark solve a replicator problem—”
“Nerys! What are you doing hiding behind there?”
She startled and took a sideways step to peer beyond the curtain. Shakaar stood directly in front of her, arms outstretched, with an exuberant grin on his face. So much for going unnoticed.
“Get out here,” Shakaar continued jovially. “I have people you need to meet. Come socialize! This is your night, too—this is Bajor’s night!”
Propelling her toward the group, he steered her past Sirsy and in the direction of a handsome black woman that Kira recognized from the newsfeeds.
“Second Minister Asarem, you remember Colonel Kira, your Militia contact here on the station? I know you two have met, but this is the first time you’ve worked together. Kira also plays a mean game of springball should you be in the mood.”
Minister Asarem nodded politely; Kira reciprocated.
Kira surveyed the guests, checking to see if there was anyone else she needed to greet, if any old friends had come calling. Behind Shakaar, a prylar she recognized as being a protégé of Yevir chatted amiably with one of the trade ministers. He must have sensed he was being observed because he looked up to see Kira and frowned; his eyes instantly shifted to a spot directly over Kira’s shoulder before physically turning his back to her.
When Yevir had first passed down his judgment, Kira believed she would gradually desensitize to the Attainder’s consequences. As one of the faithful, she understood her peers’ behavior and couldn’t fault them for following the edicts of their religious leaders. But each cold encounter still smarted and this last one had a sharper sting considering present circumstances.
Here in this room were former enemies, people representing repressive or violent cultures, those espousing primitive traditions and backward belief systems, and yet all worked to overlook what divided them and focus instead on their commonalities. And Bajor, pious, spiritual Bajor, couldn’t let go of punitive measures against one of their own for one night. This was supposed to be a reception celebrating Bajoran progressivism!
To Yevir’s credit, the Attainder was working. Being the conspicuous outcast in almost every room she walked into assured that she would never forget what she’d done, never stop atoning for her mistake and wasn’t that, in part, what it was supposed to accomplish?
At least Yevir himself isn’t here to add insult to injury, she reflected. He’d been on the original guest list, much to her consternation, but had been forced to bow out, citing some “Assembly business” that apparently superceded an official state function. Kira found herself wondering if the “Assembly business” was related to schism rumors Kasidy had told her about.
She felt Shakaar’s hand on her elbow again as he directed her toward the back of the room where the newest group of guests to join the reception stood: the half-dozen Cardassians.
“I haven’t met Gul Macet or Ambassador Lang, yet, Nerys,” Shakaar said cheerily. “I’d appreciate it if you introduced us.”
And the evening just gets better and better, she thought, putting on her most polite expression as she prepared to face the evening ahead.
With the servers dispatched to clear the tables, Ro decided to take a break from her scintillating dinner companions (a doddering member of the Alonis delegation, and the governor of one of the Klingon controlled Cardassian protectorates) and went in search of Quark. As she crossed the room, she spotted Kira chatting with Shakaar and the Cardassian delegation, the colonel somehow managing to look far more at ease within this gathering of luminaries than Ro imagined she would. Ro’s eyes panned the room as she went on, pausing to note Hiziki Gard, seated a few tables away, looking in her direction. The Trill ambassador’s aide—and her counterpart in Federation security
—smiled pleasantly and raised his glass to her. Ro nodded back, accepting the compliment graciously: Nice work, he was saying.
She wound her way through clusters of servers milling around in the side rooms, diligently recycling used glasses and plates while replicating condiments and flatware in preparation for the next round. Quark’s bellows were better than sensors or tricorders when it came to tracking him down. The employees grew progressively more anxious the closer she came to where he was working.
“Vulcan port is served by request only! It’s too expensive! Push the Gamzian wine—we have that by the crate load. So help me, Frool, I’m deducting that port from your wages. Now get to work!”
The chastised waiter skulked by Ro, who had been waiting in the doorway.
Quark finally noticed her. “Oh. Hello, Laren. How’s it going out there? Everyone talking about how wonderful I am? The artful presentation and the balanced diversity of my menu? Who needs the bar—I’ll have jobs lined up until the end of the century when this is over.” He scanned the crates piled up around him, making notes on a padd about what he’d used from each before closing it up and shoving it off to the side. Later, he’d send employees up to take each container back to whichever cargo bay he was using these days to stash his legal goods.
“If you say so,” she answered. “As long as it isn’t field rations, I’m happy.” Ro knew all Quark’s black market and embargoed items had been stowed away in cargo bays 16, 43 and 51. She was saving that knowledge for the day when she needed to motivate Quark to help her on official business. In the meantime, she knew that everything he thought he’d hidden from her was more innocuous than dangerous. Well, mostly innocuous.
Quark removed a meter-high stack of plates from a shelf and placed them on a cart. “Broik! Take these to Shakaar’s table.” He continued his inventory as he resumed speaking to Ro. “You’re staying for dessert, right? You have to stay for dessert—it’s Spican flaming melon.”
“You know, I meant to ask you about that. Are you using actual flame gems for the effect?”
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