“So I’d like to know, Colonel,” Lent asked, “have you ever been to Alonis?”
“I haven’t,” Kira admitted. “But I have been reading about your people and your world. It sounds like you have a beautiful civilization.” The ambassador flipped up the bottom of her tail. Kira had learned just a few minutes ago from one of Lent’s aides that such a gesture indicated grateful acknowledgment. “Have you ever been to Bajor?”
“I have not,” the ambassador said. “But the rich green of your oceans seems like quite an exotic setting.” The waters on Alonis, Kira had read, were colored a deep purple, like those on Trill. “I look forward to visiting them one day.”
“Well, there are no underwater cities—” The doors to the wardroom whispered open behind Kira, and she glanced over her shoulder to see who had entered. Quark stood there, carrying a tray of what appeared to be Bajoran fruits in a jumjaglaze. He quickly scanned the room, as though searching for somebody. When he spotted Kira nearby, he immediately stepped over to her.
“Colonel, have you seen Lieutenant Ro?” he asked. He seemed agitated to Kira, and she could only imagine what sort of trouble he had caused this time.
“No, I haven’t,” she told him, but Quark’s attention had already left her. He moved his head from side to side, apparently trying to see past some of the guests.
“Is that her?” he said suddenly, and he thrust the tray of desserts at Kira. She instinctively put her hands up and took the tray, and Quark hurried away.
“Quark,” she called after him, but he was already halfway across the room, weaving a path through the guests. Both exasperated and a bit embarrassed, Kira looked back at Lent. “Ambassador, if you’ll pardon me,” she said.
“Of course, Colonel.”
Kira strode in the opposite direction Quark had taken. She went to the end of the room, where tables had been set up for the food. She found an empty space and set the tray down, then turned to look for Quark. Before she located him, though, the doors to the wardroom slid open once more. This time, Ro Laren entered. “Lieutenant,” Kira called as she made her way over to the security chief.
“Colonel,” Ro said. “Is there something wrong?”
“No, not at all,” Kira said. “In fact, I’d like to compliment you on security. You’ve really done a fine job.”
“Thank you,” Ro said. The lieutenant seemed distracted, her gaze constantly moving about the room—part of her security training, Kira assumed.
“Quark just came in here looking for you,” Kira warned her.
“Quark?” Ro said. “Did he say—”
A blur of movement occurred at Kira’s side. “Laren,” Quark burst in. “I need to speak with you.”
Laren?Kira thought, and she wondered when Quark had developed the nerve to address the security chief by her given name.
“Not now, Quark,” Ro said, her eyes still moving about, studying the room. “I’m on duty.”
“Laren, listen,” he said, dropping the volume of his voice down to what Kira thought of as a conspiratorial level. The Ferengi drifted sideways, insinuating himself between Kira and Ro, his back to Kira. “I need to know what’s going on here.”
“Did you ever think that if we didn’t tell you about it,” Kira said over his shoulder, “that it might not be any of your business?”
Quark ignored Kira and continued talking to Ro. “Please,” he implored her. “I need to know—”
“I said not now,” Ro told him, her tone firm. She stopped scanning the room and peered down at Quark. “The colonel is right: this isn’t your business.”
Quark staggered back as though Ro had struck him. Kira jumped back, only narrowly avoiding him stepping on her feet. Ro looked up at Kira. “Colonel, if everything’s under control here, there are other security matters I need to tend to.”
“We’re fine here,” Kira said. Ro nodded, then quickly turned and left. Quark stared after her for a moment, then started for the doors. Kira stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “I believe you were about to serve more desserts,” she said. Quark looked back at her, out of the corner of his eye, and then back at the closed doors. Kira wondered what had happened—what Quark had probably done—to cause him such anxiety with Ro. She would have to remember to ask the security chief about it later.
When Quark still did not move, Kira leaned in toward his ear. “If you don’t start serving again,” she said, “then I’m going to have to penalize your breach of contract by closing the bar down for a few days.” She noticed that she did not smell the rancid cologne that he often wore.
Quark turned and looked her in the eyes. He muttered something under his breath and moved past her, headed for the food tables.
As Kira watched him go, she saw Akaar standing by himself. He had a drink in his hand, and he seemed to be observing the rest of the guests. Kira decided that the time and place were right for her to try to establish a rapprochement with the admiral. She strode over to him. “Good evening,” she said. “I hope you’re having a pleasant time.”
Akaar regarded her in a manner to which she had become accustomed by now, with an aloofness that suggested judgment and suspicion. She chose not to react to it, instead simply continuing to smile and wait for his response. “I am having a pleasant time,” he said at last. “Thank you for inquiring.”
“You’re welcome,” Kira said. “I’m glad that you’re enjoying the reception.” She paused and debated what to say next, then plunged ahead. “I hope that your time on the station continues to be productive,” she said.
Akaar sighed, then leaned down toward Kira. “I’ll tell you something, Colonel,” he said. “I do not care at all for—” He glanced around the room. “—Cardassian architecture. However, I have so far been impressed with…Bajoran hospitality.”
As Akaar stood back up, Kira felt her mouth drop open in surprise at the echo of her own words to Ambassador Lent. She began to say something in an attempt to cover her surprise, but somebody called to Akaar from somewhere behind her. Akaar raised a hand and gestured, then looked back at Kira. “Excuse me, Colonel,” he said, and walked away.
Kira turned and watched Akaar move across the room, over to Councillor zh’Thane. She thought about her comment just a little while ago to Ambassador Lent about “Bajoran hospitality,” and she wondered if Akaar had just tried to tell her something.
53
In the full darkness of night, the soft flurry of white light stood out like a lone star in the void. The materialization sequence finished, and Prynn walked from Chaffee’s aft section and over to the site. She shined her beacon down at the small section of decking she had transported away and then back. It had been reduced to a mass of disfigured metal.
“Well, that’s it then,” she said. Throughout the day, she had managed to cobble together a working transporter, utilizing the parts of the primary system that had survived the crash, along with elements of the two backups. She had been running tests for the last hour, beaming objects in increments both toward the source of the pulse and in the opposite direction. She had ascertained now the effective ranges of the transporter in this environment: one hundred seventy-five kilometers away from the pulse, but only seven kilometers toward it. Beaming in either direction would not help them much, if at all.
Prynn returned to Chaffee’s aft section and powered down the transporter, frustrated. She had struggled with the patchwork machinery all day, not just to get it functioning, but to increase its range. But the problem stemmed from the local effects of the energy produced at the source of the pulse, not from the equipment. Even if Prynn had access to a perfectly maintained transporter, nothing short of extremely powerful pattern enhancers would—