“Vacation lose its charm?”
“Actually, it’s been…interesting to reconnect with my extended family. So much so that I decided to save my remaining leave time for next year, when more of the Bashir clan is expected to be on Earth.”
“Sounds like you had fun. I look forward to hearing about it when you get back. Thanks again, Doctor. Ro out.” The lieutenant commed off and turned her full attention on Cenn, her sharp features lacking even a trace of a smile.
Not that I deserve otherwise,he reflected. I was abominable to her in Sidau. Best get this over with…
“I’m sorry for coming at a bad time, Lieutenant. I was hoping you could spare a few minutes for me to speak with you?”
Ro gestured for him to approach. Cenn stepped to the desk and stood before her, staring straight ahead. “I’d like to apologize for the manner in which I spoke to you this morning. I was out of line. Although I have genuine concerns about the future of the Militia now that Bajor is a Federation member, it was wrong of me to take my frustrations out on you. I hope you can forgive my disrespect, and my lack of professionalism.”
The corner of Ro’s mouth quirked up. “Apology accepted, Major. Please sit down.”
“Thank you. But with all due respect, I feel I should get back to my unit as soon as possible.”
“Back to—?” Her smile widened. “You have no idea why you’re here, do you?”
Cenn blinked. “General Lenaris told me only to report to you aboard the station immediately. I assumed it was because he expected me to offer you my formal apology in person. I was about to volunteer to do exactly that anyway, and since the general gave me no other specific instructions…” He trailed off, suddenly unsure of what was going on.
“I see,” Ro said, sounding amused. Cenn began to worry. “I really think you’re going to want to sit down for this. Can I offer you a drink?”
“No thank you,” he said as he lowered himself slowly into one of the guest chairs. A drink. This just gets worse by the second.
Ro leaned back, watching his face. He was beginning to wonder if she was enjoying his uncertainty. Finally she spoke. “You were half right.”
Cenn felt his brow furrowing. “About what?”
“About my natural instinct to look anywhere but Bajor for answers,” Ro said. “The hell of it is, I didn’t even realize it until you threw it in my face. If not for that, my investigation might have continued going nowhere. I’m in your debt, Major.”
He hesitated. “Are you telling me you found something?”
“Yes,” Ro said. “The beginning of the answer, I think. But I didn’t find it on Bajor. I found it here, on DS9.”
“I don’t understand. You just said—”
“What I meant was, if I hadn’t taken a harder look at the information that was available about Sidau, as you suggested, I might not have learned until much later that this station’s chief medical officer and its former chief of operations once visited the village. And spoke about it in their logs.”
“What did you find out?”
“I’ll get into that in a minute. The research isn’t complete. We still have a great deal of work ahead of us.”
“We?”
“I thought a lot about what you said to me on the surface, Major,” Ro said, resting her elbows on her desk. “And some things General Lenaris said as well. I came away from those conversations with a better understanding of what led to your outburst. Don’t get me wrong, you wereout of line, and I’m glad you apologized. But I also came to realize, especially after I continued my investigation, that the Militia and Starfleet still need to work closely together. That’s why you’re here. With the full backing of General Lenaris and Captain Kira, you’ve been assigned to DS9 as its new Militia liaison officer, effective immediately.”
Cenn stared at her, speechless.
“Nothing to say?” Ro asked.
Cenn remained silent for several seconds more, then decided to go with the uppermost question in his mind. “Is this a joke?”
“The irony isn’t lost on me,” Ro admitted, “but I’m completely serious. You’ll be the Militia’s eyes and ears on the station, and coordinate any joint endeavors with Starfleet.”
“But…”
“What is it?”
Cenn searched for the right way to say what he was thinking. “Lieutenant, I understand what you’re trying to do. I applaud it. I’m even honored to be chosen for the position. And I realize that we who serve seldom have the luxury of choosing wherewe serve…but I have no desire to live and work aboard Terok Nor.”
Ro frowned. “Then stop thinking about it as Terok Nor. This is Federation Starbase Deep Space 9.”
“I realize everyone here has accustomed themselves to that,” Cenn said. “I’m not sure I can. This station was the Cardassian seat of power during the Occupation. It was a place of slave labor and harsh summary judgment. It was, not long ago, the site of First Minister Shakaar’s assassination. That this station has been allowed to continue operating all these years is, quite frankly, offensive. It’s an affront to Bajorans everywhere.”
Ro leaned back in her chair, studying him from across her desk. Finally she said, “Get over it.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said, get over it. You think because you have a few chips on your shoulder, that you’re unique? That the people here casually put aside what went on within these bulkheads for decades? Are you really that arrogant?”
“I assure you, Lieutenant, I intended no insult.”
“I’m not sure I give a damn what you intended, Major. What I know is—” Ro stopped in midsentence, seeming to turn her attention inward. She let out a short laugh and shook her head.
“What is it?” Cenn asked.
“Just remembering one of my earlier conversations with the general. It’s not important,” Ro said, refocusing on Cenn. “The point I’m trying to make is that it’s easy to be dismissive when you’re ignorant. And that’s what you are in this case, Major. You’re as ignorant of DS9 as I was of Sidau.”
“Perhaps I am,” Cenn conceded. “But that still doesn’t alter the past. This place—”
“This place,” Ro interrupted, “is just that, Major—a place. It’s defined, at any point in time, by the people in it. You’re right: Once this was a place of fear, and oppression, and death. But now it’s one of hope, and optimism, and life. It’s what we make of it. And it can still be dangerous, no question. Its past is important, and it should never be forgotten. But its present and its future matter more. You can help to define those things.” Ro stood up and reached across her desk, offering him her hand. “What do you say?”
Cenn looked at the outstretched hand, then slowly rose to his feet and grabbed it with his own. “I say that I don’t think I have the slightest idea what I’m getting into.”
Ro grinned. “Then you’ll fit in perfectly. Welcome to Deep Space 9.”
Asarem
The door was open.
From the air, the house looked tiny and unassuming. Up close Asarem saw nothing about it to make her revise that impression. As secluded mountain retreats went, it was quite easy to overlook and thoroughly forgettable. But then, she supposed that was the point. Following the dirt path that led from the clearing where her executive skycar had landed, to the steep stone steps that ascended to the front door of the humble two-story dwelling, Asarem reflected that “retreat” was indeed an apt description for the place.
She had told her pilot, her aide, and her personal guards to stay with the skycar. The guards had protested, of course. She tried to tell them that Janitza was one of the most remote and sparsely inhabited regions of the planet, and that the likelihood of there being an assassin lying in wait for her unannounced visit was next to nil. It was a weak argument, she knew, and one that nobody responsible for the safety of Bajor’s head of state would listen to. These guards were no exception. But then Theno spoke up, reminding them that this trip constituted a familial visit by the first minister, who was therefore entitled to privacy. The security officers would have to content themselves with securing the perimeter of the grounds around the house. The guards capitulated.