The acolyte raised an eyebrow. "And you feel that, yourself, you can change all that?"
"There was one person who kept it from happening before."
"Yes—but you're not Kai Opaka."
Kira sighed. "Don't think I'm not painfully aware of that. I don't have her saintly patience, for one thing—I'm afraid that if I start talking with some of these people, and they don't immediately see things my way, I'm going to be sorely tempted to just clop them over their heads."
A smile from the acolyte: "I don't think that would accomplish what you desire. Though perhaps if you persist in this endeavor, you will learn much; I doubt if even the Kai was born with all the virtues she possessed before she answered the call of the Prophets."
"The problem is," said Kira glumly, "I don't think I was born with even the ability to learn patience." She stepped back from the arched window. The morning birds had long since vanished, and the shadows stretching from the horizon had crept back into themselves. As much as the temple's quiet had restored a measure of strength to her soul, she knew that the time to leave had come. There were people in Bajor's capital whom she needed to see, words to be spoken, and—with any luck—negotiations to be made.
"Perhaps not." The acolyte turned toward the worn steps that led back to the temple's central courtyard. "But you have something that will help, despite your failings."
"What's that?" She followed the other woman down the twisting stone.
"You have our hopes. And the blessing of that one who is no longer with us."
"And why do you think the general would be interested in seeing you?"
The man behind the wooden desk was one of those, she knew, who had never had power in his life—until now. A little taste of it had turned him into a petty bureaucratic tyrant; he had the power to make life difficult for others, to say yes or no to anyone who had business with the truly powerful ones above him. That savoring of that much authority had intoxicated him; the pleasurable effect could be seen in his glittering eyes.
Kira didn't have time to waste with him. "I think that if you'll let General Aur know I'm here, he will in fact be greatly interested in seeing me. I am, after all, second-in-command of the Deep Space Nine station and Bajor's main liaison with the Federation's Starfleet."
"Ah." The young man did not appear impressed; he barely concealed a sneer. "The famous Major Kira. A true luminary—of the past regime. I take it that your appearance here is as part of an official mission to the Severalty Front?"
The building to which she had come was no more than a hundred meters away from the council chambers of the Bajoran provisional government; it had once held the offices of one of the Cardassians' puppet organizations, a sham workers' committee that did little more than give rubber-stamp approval to whatever murderous conditions the occupiers dictated. The oppressive atmosphere that had filled the corridors, equal parts toadying obsequiousness and seething hatred for the hands that held the other ends of the leashes, had been replaced by a bustling energy. The confidence in the faces Kira saw around her was only a few degrees away from blind fanaticism.
"No—" She shook her head. "I came here of my own initiative. I represent no Federation interests. Except, of course, the friendship and goodwill they've shown toward the Bajoran people."
"Indeed." The sneer froze sourly in place. "How kind of the Federation to have our welfare lodged so firmly in its heart And of course history bears out how much we can upon the charitable feelings of offworlders."
Kira felt her temper boiling up inside her; with an effort, she held it in check, not wanting to give the officious little twit front of her the satisfaction of seeing that his needling marks had hit their target. Plus, as much as she could anticipate the momentary pleasure of wrapping her hands around his neck and plucking him from the chair like pulling a sun melon from its vine, she recognized that the action wouldn't be likely to accomplish what she wanted in the long run.
Patience, she told herself. Emulate those wiser than you. It sounded good in theory, but putting it into practice was proving difficult.
"Look," she said, leaning forward to plant her hands on the desktop. "I know that General Aur is a busy man; I can assure you that my own schedule is not exactly filled with leisure time. You're doing your job, and that's fine. I'm sure you get a lot of loose cannons rolling in here and you're supposed to filter them all out. But let's face it: I'm one of the senior officers aboard the DS9 station, and I report directly to Commander Benjamin Sisko regarding Bajoran affairs. The path of communication with Starfleet and the Federation goes through me. One way or another, either now or later, I'm the person that General Aur is going to have to deal with." She heard her voice growing steelier and decided to go with it. "If it's later, he and I will first have an interesting little discussion about how somebody sitting way down the line prevented me from seeing him. If you think General Aur will be happy when I tell him that, then carry on as you have been. If not . . ." She straightened up. "Do I make myself clear?"
The malice remained in the other's expression, though the self-congratulating amusement had withered away. After a few seconds of silence, the man turned to the ancient hard-wired computer terminal on the desk and typed in a few commands. "The general's not in the building at the moment."
"When is he expected to arrive?"
Hand to chin, the man contemplated the screen. "He has staff briefing at noon. . . ."
"Fine." Kira pulled the terminal around so she could see for herself. "Notify the others that the briefing has been rescheduled for a half hour later. I'll be meeting with the general at noon." She pushed the screen back toward him "There, that wasn't so hard, now was it?"
As she turned away and strode toward the exit of the Severalty Front's headquarters, she could feel the man's gaze like twin daggers between her shoulder blades.
"Nice work, Kira." A familiar voice sounded beside her. "That pompous little ass has been asking for it for a long time."
She stopped in her tracks, amazed. It had been years since she had last heard the person's slyly edged words.
"Malen—" She couldn't help smiling at him. "I thought you were dead."
"You know what they say about rumors and gross exaggerations." Malen Aldris pushed her forward by the elbow. "May I suggest we keep walking? Before our conversation attracts any undue notice."
Outside, they found an alleyway tavern dark enough for concealment. Something resinous and lethal was served to them in cracked porcelain cups; Malen sipped at his while she scraped her tongue across her front teeth to get rid of the taste. It was on occasions such as this that she appreciated the standards of Quark's establishment back aboard DS9.
"You're looking well, Kira." Malen leaned across the wobbling table to peer at her in the dim light. "You must be getting something to eat on a regular basis these days. In the old days, you were always such a starved little rat."
"Thanks." Her old comrade in the resistance looked older and grayer than she remembered him, his thinning hair reduced to a few snow-white wisps straggling behind his ears.
"The last time I saw you, some distinctly unfriendly people were dragging you away to be shot—"
"Oh, that." He waved a dismissive hand. "You know, I can't even remember anymore which side it was that wanted me dead, the Cardassians or the Bajorans. Maybe it was a joint effort on their parts."