After Zipser told Garrett that there was no unauthorized comm traffic to report, Troi said, “All clear for the most part, Commander, but I’m picking up something odd in the nebula.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“Not yet, sir, but I’d like your permission to investigate more thoroughly.”
Garrett frowned. “Just do a more active sensor sweep first and report back. I don’t want to do anything to make our guests frantic.”
“Understood.”
Tactical then reassured Garrett that both the Wo’bortasand the Sontokwere holding station, and that they remained at yellow alert. Troi, meanwhile, continued his scan.
As alpha shift settled into its routine, Zipser suddenly sat upright. “Oy.”
“What is it, Mike?” Troi asked.
“Another call from Betazed. This is, what, the four hundred and third this week?”
Troi was starting to think there was more to Zipser’s ribbing than simple jealousy over Troi’s greater success with the opposite sex. “Lwaxana is a very—talkative woman.”
“Talkative. Right. Half her little ‘notes’ to you crashed the comm buffer. This one isn’t so bad, though. Let me—oh.” Zipser’s face fell.
“What is it?” Troi asked.
“Oh, Mr. Zipser?” Garrett said before Zipser could answer the question. “I’m expecting a communication from my husband on Betazed today. Please keep an ear out.”
“Uh, actually,” Zipser said, “it just came in a minute ago, Commander. I would’ve mentioned it sooner, but I assumed it was for Lieutenant Troi.”
Garrett smiled. “I think you’ll find, Mr. Troi, that the frequency of the comm traffic will die down as time goes by.”
“You’ve never met my wife, have you, Commander?” Troi asked.
With a chuckle, Garrett rose from the command chair. “Pipe it into the captain’s ready room. Commander Li, you have the bridge.”
As the tactical officer moved to the command chair, Troi turned back to his sensors. Yeah, this is definitely odd.
By the time Garrett emerged from the ready room, Captain Haden had reported to the bridge and relieved Lt. Commander Wai-Lin Li, and Troi was starting to think that something was rotten in the Betreka Nebula. When Garrett came over asking for a report, he said, “I’m picking up an increase in charged particles. Normally, that wouldn’t be unusual—that sort of thing will fluctuate in a nebula—but it’s not very even, and the higher percentages are concentrated in a ridiculously small area. None of it’s outside the normal range of activity, but I’d like to send a probe in just to be sure.”
Garrett said nothing, but stared at the readings for a few moments, bent over the back of Troi’s chair. He looked up at her face, which was completely unreadable, but he had the feeling that it wasn’t the sensor readings she was thinking about. “You’re right, that doesn’t look good.” She stood upright and looked down at the command chair. “Captain, request permission to have Lieutenant Troi send a class-one probe into the nebula.”
Haden turned and fixed Garrett with that intimidating gaze of his. “What for?”
“Some odd readings that may be nothing.”
“I’m amazed you’re getting anything at all. It’s not like sensors are any kind of reliable in that soup.”
Troi chose that moment to speak up. “The probe’s readings will be more reliable, sir, and give us a better idea if we’re chasing sensor shadows or not.”
“Besides,” Garrett added, pointing at the viewscreen, presently showing the Klingon and Cardassian ships, “all things considered…”
“All things considered, Number One, I don’t want to piss off our friends out there any more than they’re already pissed.” He let out a long breath. “All right, fine. Li, prepare a probe. Zipser, inform the Wo’bortasand the Sontokthat we’re taking advantage of this opportunity to do a scientific survey of the Betreka Nebula. If they bitch and moan, tell them we’ll share any scientific data we obtain as a show of good faith.”
“Thank you, sir,” Garrett said. “We may want to inform Ambassador Dax as well, in case either of the delegations decides to get their nose out of joint.”
“I’d say their noses started out in that position the minute the Sontokfound Raknal V, Number One.” Haden shook his head, then looked at Zipser. “Do it.”
Li launched the probe. Haden asked how long the scan would take. “At least a few hours,” Troi said.
“Fine.” Haden got up and headed to his right. “I’ll be in my ready room. Zipser, have Lieutenant Vaughn meet me there. You’ve got the bridge, Number One.”
I wonder why he wants to talk to Vaughn,Troi thought as he followed the probe on sensors. The telemetry was coming through clearly for the time being, but that would change once it got to the nebula. Hope this doesn’t scotch our dinner plans.Vaughn had agreed to share the evening meal with Troi, duties permitting. Troi had enjoyed chatting with the older man quite a bit—even though, looking back on it, Vaughn hadn’t revealed anything personal about himself, nor talked much about his career, while Troi had done a great deal of both. Well, fine,he thought. After all that time on Betazed, it’ll be nice to talk to someone I have to actuallytalk to.
“Ch’gran is notjust an archaeological curiosity,” General Worf said, pounding his fist on the table. Clad in a red Defense Force uniform and a floor-length beige cassock that had fewer medals than Dax would have thought from someone as old as the general, the white-haired Klingon sat at one end of the Carthagebriefing room table, staring angrily at Legate Zarin. “It is a holy relic of the Klingon Empire. You cannotsimply trample on our sacred ground and not expect a response.”
Zarin, whose hair was equally white but considerably shorter, looked like he’d just eaten a lemon, his face was so sour. “If we had any indication that it was sacred ground, ourresponse might be somewhat different, General, but I’m afraid that rules of salvage seemed more applicable than any attempt to placate the arcane sensibilities of alien species.”
“The legate has a point, General,” Dax said quickly before this escalated yet again. He was starting to get a headache. Usually, this kind of negotiating session invigorated him, but this was simply wearing him down. Worf and Zarin were going around in the same circle, and doing it so often, they were digging a rut into the ground. “The Sontok’s response to the remains was completely acceptable under salvage laws.”
“And whose laws would those be, Ambassador?” Worf asked. “The Betreka Sector is unclaimed space. It is covered by no treaty that exists between Cardassia and the Empire.”
“There areno treaties between Cardassia and your ridiculous little empire, fool,” Zarin said.
Worf looked at Zarin and smiled. “That is precisely my point, Legate. Only a petaQwould hide behind protestations of ‘proper’ behavior when the parameters for such behavior do not even exist.”
First rule of mediation,Dax thought, when the parties start calling each other names, it’s time for a recess.“We’ve been at this for hours, gentlemen.” And I use that word loosely.“Why don’t we take a short break and reconvene at fifteen hundred hours?”
Zarin stood up quickly. His aides did likewise half a second later. One of them, the youngest, stumbled as he got out of his chair. “To that, I have no objection, Ambassador Dax.” With a look at Worf he added, “The air in here has gotten foul.”
As Zarin and his staff exited through the far door, Dax thought, Please don’t let the Klingons do anything stupid.Hoping to head off any attempts to reclaim honor at the pass, Dax started, “General, I urge you, don’t—”