Bashir smiled as he watched the science officer work. No mystical experience, it seemed, could ever entirely displace those comforting, cold equations. But it was nice to have more than one thing to believe in.
From his seat at the bridge’s main science station, Shar watched and listened, semidetached from his friends and colleagues as they debated the purpose behind the alien artifact—as though its havinga purpose were some immutable, foreordained law of nature.
Why is it that most humans can’t simply accept the universe as the cold, uncaring place that it really is?
Still, he thought he was finally beginning to understand the human religious impulse, at least on a certain visceral, reflexive level. How tempting it must be to believe that the artifact is some sort of divinely created holy object. Based on what the away team had reported so far, it might even conceivably provide a gateway into some parallel universe in which Thriss still lived. A place in which he and his bondmates would all survive, ameliorating Andor’s bleak future by contributing that most precious of all gifts—a child.
A child who will now never come to be.
Eager for the solace of work, Shar reached for a padd, keying in commands with fingers stained indigo with blood not his own.
28
“Everything’s going smoothly,” Ro said under her breath.
“So far,” Kira responded. “Let’s hope we’ve already seen the last of today’s surprises.”
Ro nodded and scanned the crowds once again. The grand meeting hall adjacent to the Promenade had been transformed into a sumptuous gallery of Bajoran art and culture, including facsimiles of beautifully calligraphed musical scores drafted two centuries ago by the Bold-aric Masters, as well as those of the incomparable modern composer Tor Jolan; reproductions of the paintings and tapestries of Vedek Topeka, along with some of the graphic artworks of the late Tora Ziyal; and even a live flute-recorder performance by the renowned Bajoran musician Varani.
All the attendees were dressed in their finest regalia. Treir stood chatting with a middle-level male federation diplomat, who was clearly trying to negotiate something; sipping daintily at an outsize glass of something bubbly, the statuesque Orion woman managed to look beautiful as well as completely in charge of the encounter. With the addition of Taran’atar, who was keeping a low profile in a corner, the room even had its Gamma Quadrant delegate. Ro wondered briefly if Vaughn and the crew of the Defianthad made enough allies during their exploration mission so that future diplomatic events aboard the station would see even more Gamma Quadrant species represented.
As Kira moved to speak with Councillor zh’Thane, Ro saw General Lenaris standing nearby with Cerin Mika, the Ohalavaru woman who had been the de factoleader at last night’s demonstration. Ro stepped over toward them, a gentle smile on her lips. “General. Mika. Are you enjoying the event so far?”
“A little too much pomp for an old warhorse like me, Ro, but I suppose I can stand it for one day,” Lenaris said.
“I’m grateful you and your staff released us in time to attend the festivities,” Mika said.
Ro cocked an eyebrow and said, “I’m sure our decision won’t sit well with certain vedeks. It would probably be best if you steered clear of the most unhappy-looking ones today.” She hesitated a moment, and decided that diplomacy needed to take a backseat to safety. “As we discussed before, I trust there won’t be any…interruptions of today’s ceremonies?”
“Certainly not,” Mika said. “We made our point last night, and we will continue to press the Vedek Assembly in the future. But today is not a day to air religious differences or questions of faith.”
“Glad to hear it,” Ro said, patting Mika on the shoulder. She saw a familiar face grinning at her from across the room. Hiziki Gard. Excusing herself, Ro crossed over to him.
“You look…quite dashing,” Ro said. She meant it. Gard was wearing tight trousers with piping down the sides, and a wrapped shirt with loose sleeves. A brocade sash belted the shirt at his waist. The colors of his clothes complemented his dark eyes and Trill markings.
“Thank you, Ro.” He bowed and kissed her hand, then straightened and grinned at her again. “And you look as beautiful as a woman couldin a dress Militia uniform.”
Her smile was lopsided. “Thanks. I think.”
They chatted a moment, and Ro became aware that she was being watched closely by someone. Scanning the crowd, she finally settled on who it was. Quark.
Excusing herself from Gard, Ro went over to Quark. He was holding a bottle of some kind of Orion wine, but the expression on his face was more sour than anything that liquid could have inspired. And he didn’t appear to have been drinking. “Hello, Quark.”
“Himagain?” Quark gestured toward Gard with his head.
She sighed. “He and I are both working here, Quark.”
“So am I.” Quark said, baring his pointed teeth. “What’s that got to do with anything? I just don’t like him, that’s all.”
“Okay, so he’s flirting with me. Are you going to react that way with anyonewho pays the least little bit of attention to me?”
“No, it’s not that,” Quark replied, looking her in the eyes. “There’s something…He makes me nervous.”
I’ll bet he does. Because you think I’m attracted to him. And Iam attracted to him, dammit!
“I promise I’ll keep an eye on him,” Ro said, then realized her faux pas. “The same way I’m keeping an eye on everyone here. Including you.”She brushed her fingertips across his ear, and Quark’s expression almost immediately changed to one of delight. “Now, let me do my job, and I’ll let you get that wine delivered to wherever it’s going.”
Ro gazed after Quark as he scurried away. Jealousy seemed so out of character for Quark. Maybe he really wasfalling for her. And she had to admit that he was growing on her as well.
“…this truly auspicious day, the United Federation of Planets welcomes Bajor as its newest member!” Standing at the head of the lengthy table, Admiral Leonard James Akaar unfurled a long paper document. Kira knew that the parchment was merely decorative and ceremonial, intended for display at the Chamber of Ministers or some public museum; the actual document would be signed using a simple padd.
Kira hadn’t had an opportunity to spend much time with Akaar today, but she knew that he was an old friend of Elias Vaughn. Emphasis on old,she thought with an inner smile. At 109 years, Akaar had lived longer than almost anyone present except for some of the Vulcans and—if you counted their multiple lives—most of the joined Trills. He wore his years lightly, though, cutting an almost regal figure in a heavily decorated fleet admiral’s dress uniform. His dark eyes were sharp and alert, set into a deeply lined but vigorous face.
Despite the trials of the previous months, today’s recovery of the Orbs and the signing ceremony for Bajor filled Kira’s heart with a renewed sense of hope. Perhaps the future was not so bleak as she had imagined. She had endured so much already during her brief life; to see both of today’s epoch-making events—to be a part of them—was incredible, to say the least.
Lost in her reverie, Kira had paid little attention to Shakaar’s words as he droned on. She could barely bring herself to look at him, to say nothing of Vedek Yevir and his political-clerical cronies.
Glancing elsewhere, Kira saw that Gul Macet and Cleric Ekosha were watching the proceedings attentively. As her gaze continued slowly traveling through the room, she locked eyes with Taran’atar for a moment, then Matthias, then Quark, then Ro. Ro grinned, gesturing with a nod of the head, directing Kira to focus her attention back to the head of the ceremonial table.