Silverio raised her arms and her voice, motioning and calling to her fellow Europani. Charivretha heard Shakaar duck back inside and speak to the technicians in the communications center, asking them to tell the members of the Bajoran Militia in the square to halt operations while the president spoke. Silverio’s voice, which Charivretha found relatively loud for such a small, old woman, could nevertheless not carry enough to drown out the sounds of the crowd. But as the people nearest the balcony heard her asking for their attention, they turned toward her and quieted, and like a ripple in a pond, the silence washed out from the balcony in an expanding semicircle, until all eyes were on Silverio.
“My fellow citizens,” she began, “while we head today for home, we must stop to thank the United Federation of Planets and Starfleet for their steadfast help in evacuating our people to safety.” Applause welled up within the square, a sound like a breeze rustling through leaves. When it diminished, Silverio continued. “We must also thank our Bajoran hosts for their help and for their gracious hospitality.” Again, applause rose up. The Europani president smiled at the crowd, and Charivretha expected that she would step back after a moment, the political gratitude of her people—gratitude no less genuine for being political—appropriately expressed. Instead, she resumed speaking. “But we must thank the Bajorans for more than that. First Minister Shakaar tells me that their katterpod harvest this past year was a particularly strong one, so strong that the Bajoran government has agreed to send several shipments to Europa Nova to help us—” Applause swelled once more, but now raucous cheers joined it. Charivretha heard the rest of Silverio’s words—“as we recover from the effects of radiation on our crops”—only because she was standing so close to her.
The announcement was a revelation to Charivretha. Not only had she been unaware of the development, she had not even suspected it. Considering the amount of time she and Admiral Akaar had spent with the first and second ministers since arriving on Bajor, she wondered when such an arrangement could have been negotiated. Perhaps Kaval put the deal together,she speculated, thinking about the Bajoran minister of state. But no,she thought. For all of the conventional wisdom that held to Shakaar’s distaste for politics and public life, it seemed to Charivretha that the first minister involved himself in virtually all Bajoran matters of government, particularly those concerning off-world issues. Despite intelligence passed to the Federation Council—including excerpts from Captain Sisko’s reports to Starfleet—that purported to make plain Shakaar’s dislike of his job and his preference for an easier, more isolated life, Charivretha simply could not countenance such a notion. In her experience, it required more than mere commitment to successfully discharge the duties of high office; it demanded desire.
The applause and cheers continued for a few moments, and then Silverio went on. “The first minister has also agreed to provide us generous shipments of kavanuts and pooncheenfruit,” she said, mentioning two more Bajoran staples. Again, the crowd erupted.
Charivretha felt a tingling in her antennae, a by-product of her surprise. She turned and gazed up at Akaar. He made eye contact with her immediately, but for a long moment it seemed as though he would not react to President Silverio’s announcements. Finally, though, the edges of his mouth curled up in a smile so slight that she would likely have missed it had she not known him so well.
These past few months, as the subject of Bajor’s entrance into the Federation had been revisited, one of the issues that had arisen had concerned the readiness of the Bajorans to join a larger community. Their remote location at the edge of explored space had not only left them vulnerable throughout their history—at least, throughout their recenthistory—but had also contributed to a practical isolationism, even if they had never set out to segregate themselves from the greater interstellar population. The Bajorans certainly had a deserved reputation as a spiritual, artistic, and gentle people—at least when not dealing with their longtime oppressors, the Cardassians—but their capacity to readily establish cooperative relationships with the people of other worlds had been questioned by some in the council, including Charivretha herself.
She turned back toward Silverio just as the woman concluded her short address. “We owe the Bajorans our fervent gratitude,” Silverio said, “and we humbly offer them our heartfelt friendship.” This time, Shakaar and Asarem applauded with the crowd, moving to the balcony on either side of the Europani president. The three political leaders stood there for a few moments, basking, it seemed, both in the positive feelings of the assemblage below and in each other’s company.
When Silverio, Shakaar, and Asarem finally turned and stepped away from the railing, Charivretha wondered if the foodstuffs going to Europa Nova were examples of largesse or trade. In either case, she knew that the reduction in Bajor’s available stockpile of food would have an effect on the aid they were sending to Cardassia. Assistance would continue to come from Federation and other worlds, of course, and she assumed the effort would still be managed by personnel on Deep Space 9, but she would have to examine the impact this would have on the Cardassians. Probably negligible,she guessed, since the use of Bajoran personnel and territory to stage the humanitarian efforts outweighed the importance of the relatively small amounts of food Bajor was contributing. Still, she would have to look into it.
The two ministers flanked the Europani president as they walked past Charivretha and Akaar. “I’m happy that Bajor could play a role in rescuing your people from disaster,” Shakaar said to Silverio, “but I’m even happier that those efforts have resulted in a new partnership between our worlds.”
“I am too.” Charivretha watched as Silverio— Grazia,the councillor joked to herself—reached up and slid her arm into Shakaar’s.
Charivretha and Akaar followed as the group went back into the communications room. The first minister told the Bajoran Militia personnel stationed there that the transport of the Europani could resume. “We’ll be in the conference room,” Shakaar added, and he and Asarem escorted the Europani president out.
Behind them, Charivretha stopped, appreciating the diplomacy she had just witnessed. Akaar halted beside her, and she looked up at him. He said nothing, but smiled again in that almost imperceptible way. She considered saying something about the implications, about the meaning, of what they had just seen, but then realized that they did not need to discuss it right now. She started walking again, and the admiral fell in step beside her, both of them, she was sure, having taken appropriate note of Bajor’s continued growth within the Alpha Quadrant community.
10
The door glided open, and Nog stepped off the bridge and into the corridor. Voices and the electronic cheeps of diagnostic testing followed him out, then cut off abruptly as the door closed behind him. He walked quickly forward, paying little attention to anything but the padd he held in his raised hand. He studied the tabulated readout, analyzing the data. Words and numbers, colored green and yellow and red, and arranged in rows and columns, spelled out the results of the level-one diagnostic he had just completed on Defiant’s modified library-computer interfaces.
We’re almost there,Nog thought, encouraged. Only a handful of the readings on the padd appeared in yellow, signifying marginally functional equipment, and only one—a measure of the data flow rate to a secondary interface in the stellar cartography lab—appeared in red, indicating an actual failure. He glanced up as he reached a junction, where the corridor curved back around to the left, and another stretched off to the right. Nog jogged to the right and headed toward the main corridor on the port side of the ship. Stellar cartography,he thought, shaking his head as he turned right again at the next intersection. The new lab had proven the most troublesome—