This Gray Spirit

by Heather Jarman

  As if daring Ro to make good on her threat, a man Kira recognized as an off-duty Militia engineer charged a Cardassian who had just allowed a badly beaten Bajoran to fall to the deck, unconscious. Another well-targeted shot from Kira’s phaser brought the engineer down instantly. A wave of compliance flowed through the crowd as fists fell, neck holds were released and all matter of objects being used to pummel clattered to the ground.

  Ro nodded appreciatively at her commanding officer, then began deploying her people into the crowd below, keeping her weapon trained. “Everyone remains where they are,” she cautioned. “No one moves until you’re given permission to move.” The security chief found the man Kira had wounded and, hauling him up by his good arm, led him off to sit in front of the shrine as medics swarmed from the infirmary.

  Macet appeared at Kira’s side. “Colonel. I apologize for the behavior of my crew.”

  Kira shook her head. “We don’t know who started this.”

  “It doesn’t matter who started this,” Macet said sharply. “My men were wrong to have been fighting. They will be appropriately punished, I assure you, and will submit to any interrogations Lieutenant Ro might require.”

  “Interrogation is a very strong word,” Kira said, picking her way through collapsed, bruised and beaten revelers toward the west platform.

  Macet walked alongside Kira, paralyzing with a cold glare whoever among his men dared look at him. “If interrogation is required to assure my people’s compliance you have my blessing to do whatever you need to do.”

  “Thank you. I’m sure Lieutenant Ro will appreciate your cooperation.” As she walked, Kira began making mental calculations about how much damage had been done, what the cost would be, who would pay, and whether they would even be able to reopen the Promenade before morning. Irritated by the pointlessness of such wanton destruction, she gritted her teeth. When will we ever learn?

  Out of the corner of her eye, Kira saw Dr. Girani and four nurses rushing out of a turbolift to join their colleagues already tending the wounded. Several of the medics appeared to have been roused from their beds: Lieutenant Chagall, usually a stickler for regulation, wore shorts and his Academy T-shirt; and Ensign Mancuso had thrown on a flowered bathrobe. Kira allowed herself to relax a bit: at least the wounded could be attended to properly.

  “Considering the numbers involved, I hope that you don’t have any objections to my securing Cardassian prisoners in the brig on my ship,” Macet said. “Lieutenant Ro can post her own squad of security guards, of course, but I suspect your facilities will be over taxed if she has to detain my men as well.”

  Kira paused to look over at Macet. He’s trying as hard as the rest of us.“I’ll inform Lieutenant Ro. Let’s get to work.”

  After Ro delegated the investigatory assignments, she went to interview Quark. Kira made herself useful helping out both the security and medical teams. Amazing how a threatening glare from the CO helped induce a belligerent Militia member to cooperate, or how an extra pair of hands, regardless of rank, were appreciated. Case in point: a massive, but unconscious Cardassian had collapsed on top of his groaning crewmate. With Kira taking the shoulders and a security officer taking the legs, they heaved him off, leaving the formerly pinned crewmate available for Macet to take into custody.

  How could this have happened? Kira wondered, nauseated by the smells of sweat and blood. A hand touched her shoulder and she turned to see Counselor Matthias and Thriss standing behind her.

  Matthias, like Ro and some of the others, looked like she’d tumbled out of bed. Unlike Lieutenant Ro, who had been striding around barefoot, Phillipa had managed to slide her feet into a pair of fuzzy pink slippers. Gratefully, Thriss wore sensible, nondescript civilian clothes.

  “Ummm, Colonel,” Matthias started in a gravelly voice before interrupting herself with a yawn. “I only have Starfleet’s field medicine certification, but when I heard the emergency call go out over the com, I knew you’d need extra hands. I’m here to help.”

  “Thank you, Commander. And Thriss has joined you because…?”

  Commander Matthias rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Thriss trained as a medic through level three. Preparing for med school, in fact.” Phillipa yawned again. “She worked with the civilian population on Betazed after the emancipation. Situations like these are all in a day’s work for her.”

  “I spent two months working in hospitals in the capitol city,” Thriss said, thrusting out her medkit for Kira to inspect. She appeared to have the right tools, but Kira had reservations.

  At Kira’s skeptical look, Matthias added, “I’m confident that Thriss can handle anything Dr. Girani would assign her. Allowing her to help out could be mutually beneficial.”

  “Report to Dr. Girani, then,” Kira instructed them both. “And thank you.”

  Matthias lingered behind for a moment, waiting for Thriss to be out of earshot. “Colonel, I’ll stay close by. If I sense that she needs to leave, I’ll escort her back to her quarters.”

  “Thriss does seem more—alert—maybe cheerful?” Kira observed.

  “She expects to hear from Ensign ch’Thane when the next batch of communiqués comes from the Defiant. She loves him—misses him. Hearing from him reassures her,” Matthias explained. She yawned again and trailed off after Thriss.

  Kira appreciated Matthias’s efforts: the only way they’d survive the current craziness was to be vigilant in looking out for each other. No matter the planet of origin, parentage, past misdeeds or present challenges—we have to assume that our success or failures come by every individual’s choice. She considered the work being done before her, the cooperation of diverse organizations and species in helping these stupid fools who probably deserved their misery.

  A Cardassian sporting a bruise on his forehead the size of a jumja fruit moaned somewhere to her left. She dropped to a knee, clicked the tricorder off her utility belt and scanned his skull, looking for evidence of a concussion. Jerking away from her, the soldier stared up at her, fear and distrust in his eyes, his body rigid.

  “You’re going to be fine,” Kira said, reassuringly. “I’ll find you something that will take care of the pain.”

  Ro made her way around the debris until she reached the keypad access port to Quark’s bar. An alphanumeric combination overrode Quark’s lock and the door obediently opened. Nonchalantly, she strolled into the bar, nodding a hello to Morn, who sat nursing a mug.

  What a mess.

  Shattered goblets and snifters, malodorous cheeses and seafood sauces smeared into the upholstery, wadded-up napkins, overturned tongo wheels, and more than a dozen broken wine bottles drizzling fermented fruit juice onto the floor. Navigating this in bare feet was akin to picking her way through a minefield. There had to be something…an idea occurred to her.

  “Hey, Treir! You around here somewhere?” Ro called, craning her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of what other surprises might yet await her.

  Quark popped up from behind the bar. “Not even a ‘hello, Quark, I was worried about you?’ We had a regular Core breach in here tonight and you’re not the slightest bit concerned.” He clicked his tongue. “You and Treir don’t have something going on that I don’t know about, do you?” he said, a shade too casually.

  “Shut up, Quark. I need shoes.”

  “Now that you mention it, your wardrobe is on the skimpy side tonight. I’m sure I’ve got something in the storeroom. Back in a flash.” Disappearing into the rear, he materialized a moment later, a pair of spangly, sparkly-blue high heels dangling from his ring and pinky fingers.

  Ro resisted her impulse to force him to contort his feet into those podiatric nightmares. “Be serious,” she snorted.

  “You have such pedestrian taste, Laren.” He pulled a pair of flat sandals from behind his back and plopped them onto the counter. “Better?”

  Taking a seat on a bar stool, Ro hoisted one foot onto her knee and into a shoe and then repeated the process with the other f
oot. “You wanna tell me what happened here tonight?” she said, sweeping aside ground-up matza-stick crumbs with her elbow. She needed a space to work.

  “Ask five different people who started it, you’ll get five different answers,” Quark said solemnly. He took a bar towel and brushed refuse into a dustpan, whose contents promptly went into the replicator. “All I know for certain is that it was Bajorans and Cardassians failing to work and play well with each other. Like it takes a quantum physicist to understand that the bad blood between your people and the Cardassians is destined to lead to disaster.”

  Ro placed a padd on the cleared spot on the bar and began to take notes. “Other than your astute, upbeat analysis of Bajoran/Cardassian relations, any specific things you might remember—you know, clues that might help us toss some hotheads in the brig—assign some accountability?”

  “Not offhand, no. But speaking of accountability, who’s going to pay for this disaster? Because there’s no way that this is my fault.” Quark threw open his arms, indicating the expanse of his establishment. “And the lost revenues! We’re not going to be cleaned up in time for alpha shift. This is an outrage. I demand to speak to Colonel Kira and Gul Macet!” Continuing to prattle on, Quark walked from one end of the room to the other, interspersing diatribes with his cleanup efforts. He tried to impress upon Ro the gravity of every scratched chair and crumb-covered table.

  Ro massaged her ridges with the tips of her fingers. High noise, low signal, she thought, hoping he might deign to throw in a few useful facts between his explanation of thread counts and his assertion that he’d never known a Cardassian to complain about kanar just past the “use by” date. Not surprisingly, he unequivocally denied any culpability for Cardassians put in sour moods after partaking of bad liquor.

  A couple of hours later, Kira believed they were on the downside of arrests, medical treatments and cleanup. The Promenade wouldn’t be ready by the start of the business day, and morning Temple services would also be cancelled. Still awaiting her was the unpleasant task of rousing Shakaar with the update of the night’s goings-on. He wouldn’t be pleased.

  Starting toward ops, she glimpsed Macet on the opposite platform, herding the last of his shackled men toward a turbolift. She stopped to watch him, presuming that he likely felt the same exhaustion she did. He must have sensed her because he stopped to meet her gaze. Their eyes linked only long enough for a mutual understanding to pass between them. Turning away, he barked orders to those assisting him and disappeared from her sight.

  When she was satisfied he was gone, Kira said quietly, “You can deshroud now.”

  Taran’atar shimmered into visibility beside her. “Colonel?”

  “Maintaining surveillance on Gul Macet will no longer be necessary,” Kira said, still staring after the departed Cardassian.

  “I concur,” the Jem’Hadar said. “Will there be anything else?”

  Kira considered the question. “What do you think of him?” she asked finally.

  Taran’atar hesitated. “He isn’t what I expected.”

  Kira nodded. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  17

  Water-light reflected in lazy loops on the rust sandstone walls, disrupted by stones skimming the surface. Rippling rings emerged as the rock fell to the streambed with a hollow plop, a prelude to the storm rumbling in the distance. The air crackled, anticipating release.

  Crouched low to the ground, Shar scooped up a handful of gravel and rocks, sifting it through his fingers, fishing out the smooth flat stones, tossing aside the dross. He skipped one across the stream and another, losing himself in the rhythm of the mindless task.

  “The rules of conduct are not negotiable,” the headmaster had

  explained patiently in a tone he’d use for an idiot. “You are not an exception.”

  He skipped another stone.

  Her antennae rigid with barely contained fury, zhavey had bellowed,“Tezha is reserved for the shelthreth!Don’t tempt fate, Thirishar!” He’d protested his innocence, but she refused his explanations.

  He scratched through the damp sand for another stone, willing away their chastisements. Gradually, the voices of zhavey and the headmaster twisted and twined into the low moans of the growing wind. A gust shaved dry needles off spindly conifers, flipped dry leaves onto their backs. Shar pulled his tunic closer to him to stave off the chill. He shivered.

  And then he sensed her.

  Without hearing her bare feet sending pebbles skittering up the path or seeing the sheen of perspiration damp on her arms and face, he knew she stood behind him, watching. She always watched him and he hated her for it. He could be standing across the hallway or tucked in a window seat reading and her eyes would always find him. When he felt her closeness, his throat tightened as the air became unbearably dry.

  “What are you doing here?” he said disdainfully, willing his thudding heart to steady. He refused to look at her. Attention would only encourage her. She’d been impossible yesterday, following him out into the hills, an act that had led to them both ending up in the headmaster’s office to receive official notations on their records.

  “That’s a fine hello, Thirishar,” she sniffed, tossing her hair.

  That hair of hers, Shar thought, annoyed. That ridiculous fine, straight hair, soft like spun silk thread when she brushed against him…“If I’d wanted you here, I would have invited you. Of course, that didn’t stop you yesterday when you invited yourself along on my research trip. I neglected to thank you for that, by the way. I’ve been given a failing grade on the project.”

  “Rules say you aren’t supposed to go alone.” She circled closer.

  He picked through the dirt. “Rules say you’re not supposed to go alone with a bondmate.”

  “You would have ended up half-frozen if I hadn’t been there.”

  “If you hadn’t been there, I might not have gotten lost!”

  “And to think I came up here to apologize!”

  Shar snorted. “Your apologies won’t help me pass environmental studies.” Reluctantly, he tore his eyes from the ground and looked at her, radiant in the bruised, colored half-light, gauzy skirt flapping in the wind. She granted him only a momentary glance of her gray eyes.

  “Fine then.” Thriss threaded her arms across her chest and jumped up onto a boulder sitting beside the spring. She began crossing to the opposite side, jumping sprightly from rock to rock with balletic grace. Her shimmering hair, blown by the wind, strayed across her face and she threw back her head, gazing up at the darkening sky. She closed her eyes, slightly arching her back and threw open her arms, embracing the imminent storm.

  Shar watched the gentle rise and fall of her breathing. He swallowed hard and looked away.

  A shadow crossed over. A violent clap of thunder announced the storm. Raindrops pelted the earth, sending up clouds of pink dust from the pathway. The stony metallic scent of rain on hot canyon rock drenched the air.

  Thriss laughed, cupping her palms to capture the rain.

  “Get down from there!” Shar ordered.

  “Why should I?”

  “Because you’ll be soaked, that’s why and I refuse to accept the blame when you come down with a raging case of zhem!”Sloshing across the stream, he tamped down the impulse to yell. A loss of control would only exacerbate this situation. He refused to yield the upper hand to petulant Thriss because that was precisely what she wanted. Reaching for her wrists, he encircled them with his thumb and forefinger. He tugged gently; she might be equal to him in height, but he was stronger than she.

  Refusing to budge, she said, “You come up here.” Her eyes danced playfully.

  “Thriss—!” he warned loudly, his voice muted by the rain’s plip-plop chatter.

  “I think you’ll find the view is quite lovely from here.”

  He followed her gaze to the billowing dark clouds, backlit by flashes of lightning. A stray bolt leapt out, igniting dry scrub growing in canyon rock crevices. Flames greedily
devoured the parched wood, leaving behind steaming, charred carcasses.

  The flash sent the nerves of his antennae tingling almost painfully. Exasperated, Shar yanked her down. Thriss lost her footing on the algae-covered rock and she slipped forward, sending them both tumbling into the water.

  Bracing herself over him, Thriss sputtered, pushing sodden tendrils out of her face. She narrowed her eyes. “You always have to have your way.”

  “We wouldn’t be here—I wouldn’t be here—if you knew how to stay out of my life!”

  “Your life?” Throwing back her head, she laughed grimly. “Fine. I’ll go.” She struggled to her feet, trying to untangle her limbs from her sopping clothes as she walked. A misplaced foot caught on her hem and she tripped, landing facedown in the shallow spring. Weakly, she pushed up on her elbows.

  “Thriss!” Shar scrambled over to her side. Ignoring her halfhearted protests, he hooked her by the arm and eased her to her feet. She stiffened at his touch, jerking away as soon as they reached the bank. Shar’s fears for her well-being persisted until he was satisfied that she sustained only scratches and bruises from her fall. He exhaled raggedly.

  Assuming she would resist his help, Shar threw an immovable arm around her waist, guiding her inside the cavern where he’d left his pack. Thriss perched on a rock while he searched for a survival blanket or dry clothing. Teeth chattering, she crossed her arms over her chest, hunched her shoulders and shivered for warmth. Shar dropped down beside her and tended her wounds.

  “You shouldn’t have come up here,” he said at last.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  As he mended her scrapes, her shivering evolved into trembling. A sob escaped her throat; Shar knew that she wept often. “Come here,” he said, drawing her onto his lap, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her tight against him. He rested his cheek in her hair and rubbed her back. Murmured words from an unknown place inside him settled her. Gradually, her ragged sobs ceased; she hiccupped a few times and then rested her face against his chest with a sigh. Her antennae brushed a ticklish spot beneath his chin.