“But few of them are in the field,” Girani countered, “and with good reason. Medical science and proper self-maintenance may have lengthened the human life span over what it was a few hundred years ago, but as you yourself clearly stated, you haven’t stoppedaging.”
“Come to the point, Doctor.”
Girani sighed. “Don’t misunderstand me, Commander. All things considered, your health is excellent. But at some point, perhaps sooner than you imagine, you’ll have to face the end of your ability to continue serving in your current capacity.
“But I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, am I? You’ve already had this conversation with Dr. Bashir.”
Vaughn scowled and looked away for a moment, then turned back to her. “Is it your medical opinion that I’m unfit for duty, or that my current health is a liability to this crew?”
“No, but—”
“Then we’re done here.” Vaughn pushed off the biobed and reached for his gray tank and red uniform shirt, folded neatly nearby atop his jacket and trousers.
Girani stood up and shook her head. “Julian warned me you were an impossible patient.”
“Did he, now?” Vaughn said as he dressed.
“Yes. And I feel no reluctance agreeing with that assessment,” Girani said with rising anger. “For someone of your life experience, I expected a little more wisdom.”
Vaughn slammed his hand on the biobed. His emotions were palpable, but he succeeded in reining them in quickly. Nevertheless, Girani was sorely tempted to recheck his blood pressure.
Finally he said, “I apologize. Doctor. It’s just—” He stopped, struggling for the right words. “I’m simply not ready to give up this life yet.”
The forcefulness—or was it desperation?—in Vaughn’s voice surprised Girani. She remembered a lot of aging resistance fighters who’d expressed similar sentiments when advised to slow down. During the Occupation, it was difficult to argue that anyone should scale back their efforts to help free Bajor from Cardassian control. The Federation, however, wasn’t at war anymore. So what cause was driving Vaughn?
“This issue will not go away simply because you choose to ignore it, Commander,” Girani said gently. “You need to face the fact that the time is coming, whether you like it or not, when you will have to stand down. My hope for you is that you’ll recognize it yourself when it becomes necessary. Otherwise, someone willmake that decision for you, and I suspect you’re the type who would find such a thing undignified, even humiliating. I doubt that’s how you’d want your career to end.”
Vaughn stared vacantly into the middle distance. “No. I can’t say it is.” His gaze refocused, and he looked at her. “Thank you, Doctor. Your candor is sobering. You’ve given me a great deal to think about. Are you sure you can’t be persuaded to join Starfleet?”
Girani laughed. “After the conversation we just had, you still want me to sign on?”
“Yes,” Vaughn said simply. “Integrity, directness, and persistence are qualities that shouldn’t go unappreciated.”
Girani’s smile was genuine. “Thank you, Commander. Truly. But getting back dirtside is what I really want. And besides,” she went on, seeing the dead face of First Minister Shakaar, “there are things about my time here I want to forget.”
Vaughn nodded, accepting her answer. “Just know, then, that you’ll be missed. By all of us.”
“Thank you,” Girani said again.
Vaughn finished dressing while Girani moved to an interface console and uploaded her tricorder’s readings to the infirmary mainframe, to cross-check later against the master scan taken by the diagnostic array. She was changing Vaughn’s prescription to Ostenex-E when she heard a voice call out, “There you are, Commander! I heard I might find you in here.”
Girani turned. Standing in the doorway was Quark, his hands held uncharacteristically behind his back. Girani was about to deliver a scathing reprimand about a patient’s right to privacy in coming to see a physician, but Vaughn spoke first.
“Mr. Ambassador,” he said, pulling his uniform jacket on. “What a pleasure it is to see you.”
Girani suppressed a laugh. Quark’s diplomatic appointment as Ferenginar’s official representative to Bajor was still hard to take seriously, especially after it became common knowledge that it had come about purely as an act of nepotism on the part of Grand Nagus Rom, Quark’s brother.
Quark snorted at the commander’s greeting. “Ah, you say that, but you don’t mean it.”
Vaughn looked at him. “How could you tell?”
“I’m willing to overlook your insincerity, Commander, given your situation and all.” From her angle, it appeared to Girani that Quark was holding something behind his back, but she couldn’t make out what it was.
“My situation?” Vaughn asked.
“Another birthday,” Quark said. Vaughn shot a look at Girani, who shrugged, putting on a face with which she hoped to project, Don’t look at me, I didn’t tell him.“At your age, that’s gotta make anybody cranky,” Quark went on. “It can’t be getting any easier. You’re less steady on your feet, less quick with a phaser, less able to remember things, less able to endure the, ah, company of females…”
“Less able to endure the company of you,” Vaughn added.
“Commander, please,” Quark said. “Let’s not spoil what should be an occasion to celebrate.”
Vaughn stared at him. “You’re here to help me celebrate.”
“Well, as it happens, I was at the station’s florist signing for a shipment of Kaferian lilies, just as Mr. Modo was processing an order—intended for you. Imagine my delight when I learned it was a birthday present from someone on Bajor. As a good citizen, not to mention the senior Ferengi diplomat in residence, I volunteered to bring it to you personally.”
“Is that right,” Vaughn said, as Quark’s other hand emerged, holding a narrow cone of festive paper wrapped around a single, long-stemmed flower. There was a note card attached, and an isolinear rod taped next to it. The flower, Girani saw, was an esaniblossom.
Vaughn thanked Quark as he took the gift, unsealed the note card, and smiled faintly when he read the contents. Quark’s futile attempt to inconspicuously lean over far enough to read the note told Girani that at least he hadn’t scanned the message before bringing it to the commander.
Vaughn refolded the note and detached the isolinear rod from the giftwrap. “What’s this?”
“Compliments of the Ferengi Embassy,” Quark said.
“You mean the bar.”
“Just present it to any member of my staff to receive an hour of holosuite time at our special birthday discount. And two free drinks.”
Vaughn raised an eyebrow. “Top shelf?”
Quark laughed. “That’s a good one. I’ll have to remember that. Oh, I almost forgot to mention: For a small fee, you can get an official proclamation from the Ferengi Alliance declaring this Elias Vaughn Day. It comes with a certificate.”
“Pass.”
“A smaller fee will get you an official birthday greeting from the Grand Nagus.”
“You’re enjoying your diplomatic appointment far too much, do you realize that?”
“Take joy from profit, and profit from joy. Rule of Acquisition Number Fifty-five.”
“My mistake,” Vaughn said. “But I’ll have to pass on that offer as well, I’m afraid.”
Quark made a disgusted noise and shook his head. “No offense, Commander, but your people have no idea how to celebrate a birthday properly.”
Vaughn shrugged. “We’re only human.”
“My point exactly. Would it kill you to spend a little more time in my bar?”
“Don’t you mean ‘embassy’?”
“Quark’s is a full-service establishment,” the ambassador said. “I’m just trying to reinforce that fact among the station populace.”
“And you think having the station’s second-in-command decide to celebrate his birthday there will encourage others to do the same,” Vaughn guessed.