Akaar peered both ways down the corridor. He had consulted a station directory and diagram prior to heading down here, but now he could not recall which way he needed to go. He spied what seemed to be a companel in the bulkhead opposite the turbolift, and he walked over and tapped its reflective surface. The panel came to life, a Cardassian “shatterframe” display appearing on it, accompanied by a short series of electronic tones. Akaar studied the unbalanced, asymmetric polygons arranged around the central, circular viewing area, and decided that the station’s crew—Starfleet and Bajoran personnel alike—rated commendations simply for serving in this inhospitable setting.
“Computer,” he said, “direct to me Commander Vaughn’s quarters.” His voice echoed faintly in the empty corridor. The panel hummed briefly, but did nothing more. Akaar waited for a moment, then reached up and tentatively touched the screen again. Another series of tones sounded, and then the computer addressed him.
“State request.”It surprised Akaar that the voice was not male, and even more so that it was not entirely unfriendly.
“Computer,” he repeated, his fingers still pressed against the panel, “direct me to Commander Vaughn’s quarters.”
“Restate request.”
Akaar sighed. Attempting a different approach, he said, “Computer, locate Commander Vaughn.”
“Commander Vaughn is in his quarters.”
“Computer, where are Commander Vaughn’s quarters?” he asked, and the computer dutifully recited the level, section, and cabin numbers that Akaar had already ascertained from the station directory. “Computer, how do I get there from my present location?”
“Restate request.”
Akaar dropped his head, then sighed a second time. Clearly, his assessment of the computer as “not unfriendly” had been premature. He dropped his hand from the companel, which blinked off after a couple of seconds. He looked both ways down the corridor again, then arbitrarily set off to the left. He passed two doors on one side of the corridor and two on the other, determining from the increasing numbers on the accompanying wall plates that he was headed in the right direction. At the next door, though, the number unpredictably decreased. He stopped in his tracks, thinking that perhaps abandoning Deep Space 9, née Terok Nor, to the Bajorans, and thus to the Federation, had actually been part of an insidious Cardassian plot to sow madness through the galaxy.
He decided to walk as far as the next turbolift. If he had not located Vaughn’s quarters by that point, then he would contact ops and ask for assistance, embarrassing as that would be. A fleet admiral, decades in space, with tens of thousands of light-years behind me,he thought, and I can’t even locate a cabin on a space station.He laughed quietly to himself, and then thought that perhaps this had not been the Cardassians’ doing after all, but Vaughn’s; it would have been just like Elias to find some means of concealing the location of his quarters.
Akaar started down the corridor again, fully prepared to admit defeat. The next door he came to was Vaughn’s. He laughed again, although this time with less humor; he realized that he had been entertaining a hope that he would not find Vaughn, and that he would not have to tell his old friend what he had done. A fool’s daydream,Akaar told himself, and then he touched the access panel. A moment later, the door glided open. He lifted his feet over the sill and bowed his head beneath the upper doorframe, feeling as though he had to fold himself up in order to move around this station. Not thatGryphon orDefiant or any other Starfleet vessels are much better,he thought. He looked forward to the day when Capella would construct its own space stations and its own starships, with doorways and chairs and beds that would comfortably accommodate larger people.
Akaar glanced around as he entered the room. The layout and furnishings seemed standard: a sitting area, a dining table and chairs, replicator, companel, a closed door on the far side of the room that doubtless led into a bedroom. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary or even noteworthy; anybody could have lived here. These could even be guest quarters,Akaar thought, except that even lodging for a guest typically contained some sort of adornments. Here, there was nothing, though he supposed the absence did not stand out unless you looked for it. The walls featured no paintings or other artwork, and no books or pictures or other personal items sat on any of the tables. Akaar knew that Vaughn had only been on the station for a couple of months so far, and that he always traveled with few belongings, meaning that he had probably arrived here with very little. And perhaps he had not even decided whether he would remain on Deep Space 9 for the long term. Or perhaps,Akaar thought, these quarters are just the way Elias wants them.
Vaughn himself stood on the opposite side of the room, in front of a wide, eye-shaped window. Dressed in his uniform, he looked no different from the way he had the last time Akaar had seen him. Of course, through all the years Akaar had known him, Vaughn’s appearance had never seemed to change much.
“Did you travel halfway across the quadrant to inspect my quarters, Admiral,” Vaughn said from the window, “or are you going to greet me with an open heart and hand?”
“Elias,” Akaar said, striding farther into the room. Vaughn walked over from the window, and when they met, Akaar extended a hand to him. Vaughn did the same, and they wrapped their hands around each other’s forearms.
“L.J., it’s good to see you,” Vaughn said.
“And you,” Akaar responded. “Although I am never certain where I will find you next.” Throughout their careers in Starfleet, Akaar had unexpectedly encountered Vaughn on a number of occasions, in a number of locales. Before coming to Bajor, though, Akaar had been aware of Vaughn’s presence on DS9; allof the admiralty knew of his transfer here, though not all of them supported the move.
“I do make my way around,” Vaughn agreed. He released his grip on Akaar’s arm, and Akaar did the same. Vaughn then walked past him and over to the sofa. “Please, have a seat.”
“I have been seated for days,” Akaar told him. He followed Vaughn over to the sitting area, but the two remained standing.
“The Bajorans?” Vaughn asked.
“During the weeks of meetings we had with them, yes,” Akaar said, “but during the past few days, it has been the Europani. When you have hundreds of crew and thousands of passengers aboard an Akira-class starship, there is not much you can do but stay in your quarters.” Over the past four days, Akaar had made numerous trips between Bajor and Europa Nova aboard Gryphon,part of a sizable convoy ferrying the Europani back to their newly decontaminated world.
“Just be grateful Europani aren’t the size of Capellans,” Vaughn joked. “You would’ve had to sleep on the outside of the hull.” Akaar laughed as Vaughn walked over toward the dining area. “If you won’t sit, L.J., can I at least get you something to drink or eat?”
“Considering the friendly nature of this station,” Akaar said with measured sarcasm, “I am afraid to see what may emerge from a Cardassian replicator.” Again he followed Vaughn across the room.
Vaughn circled around the dining table and stepped up to the replicator. “Deep Space 9’s not unfriendly,” he said. “It’s got character.”
“As does a black hole,” Akaar said, “but I would not want to spend any time in one.”
Vaughn gestured at the replicator. “So what would you like? It’s only seventeen-thirty, but are you in the mood for an early dinner?”
“I have not had a meal since early this morning, so I am hungry,” Akaar said. “I do not suppose any Capellan foods are programmed into the replicators here. I have been craving some koltaristew lately.”