“Let’s see,” Vaughn said, and ordered the dish. Akaar was not surprised when the computer asked him to furnish parameters for it. Vaughn shrugged, then inquired about any Capellan foods at all; none were available. “Sorry,” Vaughn said. “I’ve done a bit of tinkering since I’ve been here, though, and I’ve managed to introduce a few new meals, and improve some others. There’s a better-thanfair approximation of that dinner we had on Earth, in Rome, back during the last Tholian visit.” Akaar did not recall the meal to which Vaughn referred—though he certainly remembered the calamity with the Tholians—but he trusted his old friend’s memory and intentions. Vaughn ordered a family-style serving of “pasta fagioli,”which did not sound familiar to Akaar, although he thought he recognized the preparation of “extra garlic.”
The food materialized on the replicator pad in a wide, deep bowl, quickly filling the room with a delicious redolence. All at once, the memory of the dinner Akaar had shared with Vaughn in Rome rushed vividly back to him. “For this,” Akaar said, “I will sit down.” His mouth already watering, he took a seat at the table, thinking that the full aroma of the food was reminiscent of the pungent meals traditionally prepared on Capella. Knowing Vaughn as he did, Akaar was sure that the selection had not been coincidental.
Vaughn set the bowl in the center of the dining table, and then from a compartment beside the replicator, he retrieved bowls, utensils, and linens, which he laid out for the two of them. Then he pulled out a squat, dark-green bottle from a second compartment. “Something to drink?” he asked, holding the bottle out for Akaar to see. He recognized it at once as grosz,a Capellan liquor.
“Where did you manage to find this?” Akaar asked, reaching out and taking the offered bottle. Thinking that he had not partaken of groszin quite some time, he examined the label, then had to look at it a second time to be sure of what he had seen. “This is from my home territory,” he said, hearing a mixture of astonishment and delight in his own voice.
“When I learned you’d be spending some time on the station,” Vaughn explained, “I asked the barkeeper on the Promenade to try to track some down for me. Turns out that he’s got some interesting connections and is quite resourceful.”
“Evidently,” Akaar said, mindful of the fact that Vaughn had just revealed the existence of his own interesting connections and his own resourcefulness. Vaughn had not been on the station three and a half weeks ago, when Akaar had visited briefly with Colonel Kira, but the colonel had surely informed Vaughn of it when he had come back. Few people outside Starfleet Command and the Federation Council were aware, though, that Akaar would be returning to Deep Space 9 and staying for an extended period. Akaar chose not to inquire about the source of Vaughn’s information, both respecting his friend’s privacy and understanding the futility of asking such questions of him.
Vaughn produced two glasses while Akaar removed the wire cage around the mouth of the bottle. He pulled the cork free and then poured out the clear liquid, tinged lightly purple. He waited until Vaughn sat, then held up his glass in a salute. Vaughn raised his own glass. “To old friends,” Akaar offered.
“And getting older all the time,” Vaughn added.
Akaar nodded, aware that Vaughn, eight years his junior, had passed the century mark himself more than a year ago. He pushed his glass forward, tapped it against Vaughn’s, and drank. The groszflowed down his throat with a heady warmth, and a sharp, challenging taste even better than he remembered. He let out an appreciative sigh. “Thank you, my friend,” he said.
“My pleasure,” Vaughn told him. “Welcome to Deep Space 9.”
Akaar picked up a ladle and served himself from the bowl of hearty soup. “You make me feel welcome, but the rest of the station…” As his voice trailed off, he recalled the difficulties he had encountered on the way here. “Can you explain the numbering scheme of the quarters on this level?”
“I’m not sure that I understand it myself,” Vaughn said. “But I think it may have had something to do with Gul Dukat’s twisted notion of security.”
“Make it impossible for his crew to find their own quarters?” Akaar asked rhetorically. He finished serving himself and passed the ladle over to Vaughn. “Very clever,” he added derisively. The mention of Dukat reminded Akaar of another Cardassian: Dukat’s cousin, Macet. He asked Vaughn his opinion of the gul.
Vaughn did not answer immediately, but appeared to consider the question as he put food in his bowl. Finally, after setting the ladle down, he said, “Macet’s intentions seem genuine to me, but regardless of his intentions, his assistance has been invaluable. Without the use of his vessel during the evacuation of Europa Nova, we would have lost a lot of people.”
“I am sure you are aware that he also helped return the Europani to their planet during the past few days,” Akaar said, and Vaughn nodded his agreement. “Without Trager,we would still be shuttling between Bajor and Europa Nova.” Akaar took his first spoonful of the soup and found that it tasted as good as it smelled. “This is excellent, Elias.”
“One of my favorites,” Vaughn said, starting on his own meal.
“I invited Macet to Deep Space 9 after we finished the resettlement,” Akaar said, “but he declined.”
“We’ve performed repairs on his ship at DS9 twice now,” Vaughn said, “and on both occasions, I asked him to come aboard the station. Neither time did he or any of his crew leave Trager.”
“I suppose that is understandable,” Akaar said, knowing that Gul Dukat had caused the people of the station—all of Bajor, in fact—a great deal of horror and suffering. “I wonder what sort of a reception Macet would receive on Deep Space 9.”
“Mixed at best,” Vaughn said between mouthfuls of food. “I’m sure not everybody shares my opinion of his aims.”
“What about Kira?” Akaar possessed a great curiosity about the colonel, one not sated by his single conversation with her. Knowing what she might soon be faced with, he hoped to learn what he could expect from her.
“I can’t speak for Colonel Kira, of course,” Vaughn said, “but I believe she is cautious about Macet.”
“Cautious,” Akaar asked, “or suspicious?”
“Probably both,” Vaughn allowed. “But I think it’s worth noting that when the Europani required assistance, she put aside any negative feelings for the greater good.”
Akaar said nothing for a moment, considering this information as he ate. Then he asked, “What do you think of her, Elias?”
“I like her,” Vaughn said simply.
“That is not what I am asking, and you know it.”
“She’s strong, decisive, loyal, solid under pressure,” Vaughn expounded, not hesitating to provide his opinions. “Not always as diplomatic as a commanding officer might reasonably be expected to be, but I actually find that refreshing.” Vaughn paused, apparently thinking about how else he could characterize the colonel. “Passionate,” he finally said. “Quick to temper sometimes, but she also seems to be committed to enjoying her life. I haven’t known her long obviously, but…you read her report of the time she spent—or thoughtshe spent—in Bajor’s past?”
“Yes,” Akaar said.
“I think that experience has had a profound affect on her,” Vaughn said. “She’s young to be in such a position of authority, particularly for somebody with no formal military or command training. Even so, I feel privileged to be serving under her. There are things Starfleet could stand to learn from Colonel Kira.”
Akaar found himself surprised at Vaughn’s strong assessment of Kira, considering how short a time he had served with her. “What about her feelings about the Cardassians?”
“Passionate,” Vaughn repeated.
“What exactly does that mean?” Akaar wanted to know.