Until today, they had not spoken in more than six weeks, since she had returned to the station via the Iconian gateway. And their last significant communication, not too long after she had been Attainted a few months ago, had been contentious. At that time, he had let her know that her excommunication could easily threaten her position aboard Deep Space 9. Although he had never suggested that he wanted to remove her from command, he had tacitly warned that, whatever struggles arose for her, she would have to weather them without him. Since then, she had done just that.
“I’ll see you tonight at the reception,” Kira said, ready to return to her office.
“Of course,” Shakaar said. “Would you like to come in for a few minutes?”
The invitation caught Kira off-guard. Shakaar must have seen her hesitation, because he added, “Unless you really need to get back to ops.”
“No,” she said, curiosity replacing her surprise. “Not at all.” He stepped aside to allow her to pass, then followed her into the cabin. The door hummed closed behind them.
“It’s good to see you,” Shakaar said, moving past her and farther into the room. “Nerys,” he added, with a smile. “You can still call me Edon,” he told her, “or have things degenerated that badly between us?”
“No, of course not,” Kira said immediately, although she really had perceived an iciness in their relationship. She had initially believed that the distance growing between them had only been natural—they had stopped seeing each other romantically a couple of years ago—but she had lately come to believe it a result of Shakaar’s political life. Now, apropos of that, she said, “Unless there are some Bajorans listening to us. Maybe then we’d better argue with each other.”
Shakaar laughed, a sound Kira had not heard in a while. “That might actually work best for me,” he said. “I think you’ve got more political enemies than I do.”
Kira smiled, but Shakaar’s jest bothered her. So far as she knew, the only real political opposition she had came from Vedek Yevir and his followers, who had been the ones to Attaint her. Well, and maybe from Admiral Akaar,Kira amended.
“May I get you something to drink?” Shakaar asked, crossing over to the replicator in the small dining area.
“No, thank you,” she said.
“Oh,” he said. “All right.” He looked at the replicator for a moment longer, as though deciding whether or not to get something for himself. Then he walked around the dining table and over to the sitting area. “Please,” he said, indicating an easy chair, “have a seat.”
Kira walked over and sat down in the chair, and Shakaar sat on the sofa across from her. “You’ve been well, I hope,” she said.
“I have,” Shakaar told her. “Busy, but well. I trust the same is true of you.”
“It is,” Kira said, and realized that she meant it. Despite all of the difficult times she had undergone in the last few months, and notwithstanding the potentially tumultuous days approaching for Bajor, she felt strong in her own life. She recalled the swarm of locusts that had infiltrated her sleep last night, but the concerns fueling her dreams she held not for herself, but for her people. Feeling somehow unburdened by the insight, she returned to her thoughts of a moment ago. “Can I ask you about Admiral Akaar?” she said. She saw what she perceived as hesitation in Shakaar’s features, and she quickly added, “Off the record.”
Shakaar nodded his head slowly as he seemed to consider this. He leaned back on the sofa, spreading his arms wide. “Off the record, certainly,” he said. “What can I tell you?”
“What do you think of him?” Kira asked.
Shakaar shrugged. “He’s a Starfleet admiral, like all the rest. Perhaps a bit more serious than some, a little more…” As he searched for a word to complete his thought, Kira offered her own observation.
“Secretive?” she said.
“I would’ve said… guarded…but yes,” Shakaar agreed. “Has that been a problem?”
Kira shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “I have a vague uneasiness about the admiral.” The apparition of the locusts flew across her mind again, and she wondered if their presence in her dream represented a shadow she felt Akaar might somehow cast over her people.
“Are you sure your feelings are about the admiral,” Shakaar asked, “and not about the prospect of Bajor joining the Federation?”
Kira thought about the question before answering. The Prophets only knew that she had been asking herself similar questions for days. But she arrived at the same answer now as before. “I think I’ve come to terms with Bajor’s membership in the Federation,” she said seriously. “I even believe that it will benefit our people. But I also think that for those in our generation, so many of whom have been horribly wounded by the Occupation, this step might be exceedingly difficult.”
“I understand,” Shakaar told her. He pulled his arms in and stood up. “I’ve had similar thoughts. But I’m confident that we can do this, and that it can be a great boon to all of Bajor.”
“I think so too,” Kira said. “It’s just that, with all the rapid changes Bajorans have experienced in the last century—even in the last decade—we’ve had to struggle to retain our character. I just wonder what will become of our…unique identity…once we become just one small part of something so much bigger.”
“Is that what you’re worried about?” Shakaar asked, walking back over to the dining area as he spoke. “That Bajor will join the Federation and become somehow homogenized? Because my experience is that their member worlds are very different, one from another.”
“I don’t know,” Kira admitted. “Yes, that does worry me. But I also think I’m even more concerned about Bajor notjoining the Federation.” If the locusts had represented Akaar to her, Kira realized, then perhaps the shadow that had so frightened her in her dream had not been the Federation descending on Bajor, but Akaar separating Bajor and preventing its membership.
“I’ve been dealing with this issue for months,” Shakaar said. “Believe me when I tell you that there’s nothing to worry about. Everything is proceeding exactly as I’d hoped.” They were mere words, Kira knew, and perhaps even hollow promises, but despite the prickliness of her recent dealings with Shakaar, she still trusted him. “We’re going to need you in the next few days and weeks, and past that.”
“I’ll be here,” Kira said.
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” he asked, pointing at the replicator.
“No, I’m fine,” she said.
“Mobajuice,” Shakaar ordered. Kira could not see the device past him, but she heard its hum. Shakaar turned back toward her after a moment, a tall glass of the purple beverage in one hand. He sipped from the glass, and then said, “There’ll be a great deal of work beyond Federation membership. We’ll want to diversify, to enhancethe usefulness of Deep Space 9, especially once the wormhole is reopened to commercial and exploratory traffic. I imagine the Klingons and the Romulans may push for a bigger role in those affairs this time.” He started back across the room.
Kira could only imagine how troublesome it would be to have to deal with both Klingon and Romulan officials as permanent residents of the station, but she also understood why those powers would want a hand in occupying such an important area of space. Even discounting any possible threat from the Gamma Quadrant, Bajor and the wormhole had become a virtual crossroads of the galaxy, a place where everybody’s interests could be impacted.
Shakaar sat back down on the sofa. He talked about other governments who had expressed a desire to be represented on DS9, rushing through a list that included the Ferengi, the Tholians, and the Gorn. At one point, she thought he even mentioned the Breen—allies of the Dominion during the war, and a people who had shown nothing but animosity toward Bajor and the Federation, even since hostilities had ended—but realized that she must have misunderstood him. Eventually, Shakaar said, “I did ask you in here for a reason, though. Actually, I wanted to ask for your opinion.”