19

Vedek Yevir Linjarin walked to the center of the small stage, holding his head high. Nearly everyone on Bajor would be watching, he knew, and it was important for them to see that their spiritual leaders had not lost their dignity or their poise.

Yevir ignored the recording cameras aimed at the podium, instead addressing the vedeks and ranjens who had gathered at the indoor arena, placing his hands on the pulpit and gazing up into their ranks. Hundreds of them, yet it was so silent, he imagined that they could hear the beating of his own heart.

Only the truth. The Prophets deserve no less.

“Only two days ago, an unacknowledged book of prophecy was uploaded into Bajor’s communications network, anonymously,” he began, his voice carrying through the room. A strong voice; the voice of a leader.

“The Vedek Assembly had heard of the book, but until it was placed in the public domain, none of us had read it-and I must admit, some of us were afraid … at first. Afraid that the Prophets would somehow be overlooked in the controversy that was inspired; afraid, perhaps, of the Bajoran people finding out that we knew of this book, but had never spoken of it.”

Nods from the assembled now, as they heard and acknowledged him.

“I want everyone to know, to understand-it was I who pushed for this book to be condemned,” he said, finding strength in sharing his awareness of his faults. “I was afraid, because I looked away from the Prophets. Because for a moment, I forgot how strong, how open the Bajoran people are. I forgot that we have always looked for the truth, no matter what form it takes, and that the Prophets would never-never-send us anything we couldn’t learn to accept. The Prophets love us; we are Their children.”

He could feel himself gaining momentum, could feel it reflected back at him by the men and women watching. His words held power, because they were the truth.

“I was afraid because of my own lack of faith in Them. For all of the boundless love and respect I feel for Them, I followed my first inclination-to protect Them from secular thoughts, from secular ideas. To my shame, I didn’t want the Vedek Assembly’s authority to be challenged, because I thought that meant some people might turn away from us-and in turning away from us, that they would turn

away from the Prophets. I was wrong. I was unworthy.”

Hundreds of faces frowning, shaking their heads in disagreement.

“I might have continued on my narrow path, if not for the miraculous return yesterday of the Orb of Memory,” he said, wording carefully now. “The Orb, which showed us the truth of the book’s final prophecy-the prophecy of the Avatar, the Emissary’s child, who is not yet born.”

Slow, lingering smiles of faith throughout the rows, gazes filled with the knowledge of miracles.

“The Orb has come back to us … and I stand before you today to address the meaning of its return, as I see it. People are beginning to criticize the unyielding stoicism, the elitist conservatism that the Assembly has come to represent to so many of you. People are expressing interest in philosophical debate, in new interpretations of truth … and what I believe is that the Orb stands for more than the Prophets’ love. I believe that it’s also a sign, a sign that the Prophets choose for us to be open to change. They want us to look into our pasts, to learn from our experiences, and to use our collective knowledge to rise to the challenges of our future.”

A low murmur of assent rose from the assembled. Yevir felt humility in the face of such understanding, he felt their trust in him grow as he revealed his mortal flaws. It was right and true, that he should lead the revolution for change, that the Prophets had ordained. Why else had They sent him to DS9? It had all been destined from the start.

“I know it may seem strange, that I would want

to tear down the very system that has allowed me this voice, that has made it possible for me to stand here, telling you what I believe,” he said. “And I’m not saying it should be torn down. All I mean to say is that like all of you, I am here to serve the will of the Prophets-and those among us who turn away from Their light have no place in the Bajor of tomorrow, because our lives and our world, our changing views and our established tenets, everything we do, we do for Them. It is all part of Their loving plan for us.”

Yevir smiled, nodding humbly. “Thank you for listening. Walk with the Prophets.”

Acceptance flowed from them like water, enveloping him in warmth and forgiveness. Yevir closed his eyes for just a second, knowing that he had reached millions of people the world over, knowing that the Prophets, too, were watching; praise be.

“What a load,” Quark grumbled, turning away from the viewscreen. Morn nodded, raising his glass to the observation. At least Kai Winn hadn’t hidden her insatiable craving for power; Yevir Linjarin was apparently going for some kind of humility award for that little performance, but it had MEGALOMANIAC written all over it. Either that, or he was a serious fanatic; either way, Bajor was in for a ride.

Quark wouldn’t have bothered watching, except he knew that practically every Bajoran on the station had been permafixed to their monitors for the duration of the much -heralded speech-and it always paid to know wha t the zealot faction was up to. Besides, he’d already stopped taking bets on Yevir for

kai, and was interested to see the man in action. From the looks of things, the only way he could lose now would be if he got caught beating up children, or delivering a sermon in the nude, something like that.

Morn was starting to get sloppy, talking about how much hair Linjarin had, so Quark casually moved to the other end of the bar, to better indulge one of his two new favorite pastimes: thinking about his impending dinner with Ro. The other was fantasizing about Shar’s mother visiting the station and asking for Quark’s advice on the Alpha Quadrant’s economy-just as exciting, but nowhere near as immediate.

He’d already decided to take Ro to a holosuite, and to wear the new coat he’d special-ordered-off-the- rack was for losers, at least when it came to impressing the ladies; it was one of the very few expenses that he didn’t skimp on, often-but he was still debating the perfect environment. He didn’t want to be too obvious, so the sex palace program was definitely out … but maybe the harem room, minus the harem. Lots of pillows, and plenty of that veily fabric hanging all over the place. They could eat toasted tubeworms and drink sweet p’losie wine-he had a case of the stuff that was about to turn-a little conversation, a little music … she said she didn’t want any “involvement,” but Quark was a romantic at heart; he’d wear her down. He’d woo her until she couldn’t think straight.

He had just formed a perfect mental picture of her in one of those teeny little harem outfits, all delicate and wispy except for a pair of gravity boots and an

intimidating sneer, when the bar’s companel signaled. His daydream dissolved into Morn’s sloppy face, which happened to be in the way of Quark’s unseeing gaze. Talk about a lobe shriveler.

Scowling, Quark smacked the panel with one fist. “What?”

“You get more and more charming every day,” Kira said, her voice dripping sarcasm.

Quark made a face. “Sorry, Colonel. What?”

“I want to have a senior staff gathering tonight, in the meeting hall across from the jeweler’s. Kind of an impromptu welcome for Commander Vaughn and Taran’atar.”

Quark backpedaled like mad. “What a wonderful idea! Colonel, I have to say, you’re … well, just so generous when it comes to showing your staff how much they mean to you,” he marveled, throwing his heart into it. “But you know, if you really wanted to make them feel like a part of our small, close-knit community, you’d have your party here, where everyone could join in. You know, so that our new friends can really get to know the people they’ll be living and working with every single day-“

“Drinks and appetizers for, say, fifteen people, for two hours, 2100 on,” Kira snapped. “Make it nice and I’ ll see that you get an extra hour of computer time every day this week.”

“You’re such a good person, Colonel, I mean that,” Quark said, but Kira commed off before he could push the dessert option. Too bad, but the extra time was incentive enough; he’d been having to run the holosuites off his own reserves, which didn’t come cheap, and Kira had flat-out refused to

reimburse him for the expense. As if she hadn’t been the one who’d authorized dumping the station’s entire fusion core… .

Ro was senior staff.

“Grimp!” Quark screamed, the server nearly dropping a tray of glasses at the sound of his own name. Worthless slug.

As Grimp scurried toward the bar, Quark made a mental list of what needed to be done to get ready for the party-and after a discreet sniff, he added taking a shower, or at least splashing some of that special cologne on, the stuff that all the dabo girls had commented on. He remembered that even Leeta had been impressed, telling him that she’d never smelled anything quite like itAt the other end of the bar, Morn let out a huge, gaseous belch and blinked his watery eyes, his upper body weaving back and forth as if in a strong wind. Quark shook his head, wondering how it was that some people managed to get along without even a shred of class or culture.

Some things, even latinum couldn’t buy… .

Once they reached the meeting hall, Taran’atar stayed near the door, wondering if he was supposed to approach any of the assembled. There were only six others besides himself-Kira and Vaughn, Dr. Bashir and a female Trill, and a Starfleet tactical lieutenant. The sixth was a Ferengi, bearing plates of food and drink. On the way from his quarters, the colonel had suggested that he just be himself, but that meant not speaking unnecessarily; he wanted to follow orders, but after watching the gathering for a

short time period, he saw that talking to others seemed to be the purpose.

Still, Taran’atar was unsure of the appropriate action. Colonel Kira had officially announced his presence to DS9’s population hours ago, but had explained to him afterward that it might be some time before he was “accepted.” He didn’t understand how that could be-what was there to accept? He was on the station; it was a fact. Perhaps she had been speaking figurativelyTwo people were approaching, Dr. Bashir and the Trill. They smiled, and were touching hands as they walked. Taran’atar prepared for the confrontation; he was to be himself. They stopped in front of him, and he saw that Dr. Bashir carried a small plate ho lding slices of unknown fruit.

“Taran’atar, I’m Ezri Dax,” the Trill said, her smile fading as she looked up at him. “I want to welcome you here.”

Taran’atar nodded, accepting her statement.

Bashir was also serious now, properly establishing sincerity just as the woman had. “Taran’atar, I just wanted to say again that, ah, I’m grateful to you for saving my life.”

“You owe me nothing,” Taran’atar said firmly, recognizing the burden of obligation Bashir had expressed. This was going well, their interchange.

“Come with us,” Dax said. “We can help you interact with the others. If that’s your choice.”

Taran’atar nodded again, remembering what Kira had said at the meeting of his explanation. An expression of appreciation. “Thank you.”

The doctor and the Trill exchanged a look, and

then both were smiling again. Taran’atar hoped he had spoken appropriately. Never in all his years had he felt so lost, so far away from the reality he understood best, but he would learn. Odo had singled him out, had spoken his name; Taran’atar would watch and learn, or, as he vowed to Kira Nerys, he would die in the attempt.

Shar joined the party a few minutes late, wishing that the colonel had been less adamant about attendance. Since the call from Charivretha, he’d spent his off-duty hours alone in his quarters, aware that his parentage had become common knowledge; he didn’t want to talk about it, and had begun to avoid social interaction.

Before he’d taken a single step into the room, Quark was at his side, holding up a tray of vegetable pieces. A strange odor surrounded him, though Shar didn’t know if it was the vegetables or Quark himself.

“Shar! I’m so glad you could make it, I haven’t seen you around for a couple of days. Try these-fresh

Bajoran vegetables, marinated in p’losie wine. Exquisite, don’t you think?”

Shar nervously took a piece and tasted it, aware that Quark was one of those who would be treating him differently since learning about Zhavey. “Very good. Do you know if Nog is coming, or Lieutenant Ro?”

“Of course! Are you kidding? They’re both your friends, right? Nog is a wonderful boy, I’m just thrilled that the two of you have become so close. Any friend of his, you know? And Ro …”

Quark grinned, lowering his voice slightly, speaking in a conspiratorial way. “Why do you think I’m

wearing this cologne? It cost me a pretty strip, I don’t just put it on for no good reason. What do you think?”

It smelled vaguely like deuterium fumes on a hot day, mixed with something organic and possibly decomposing.

“I’ve never smelled anything like it,” Shar said honestly, and Quark nodded happily.

“Exactly. Say, as long as we’re talking, I’ve been meaning to ask you-I had this really incredible idea about establishing new shipping lanes into the Beta Quadrant, and-“

“Hey, Shar.”

Shar turned, grateful for the interruption. It was Nog, just arriving.

“Nephew, how nice,” Quark said through a gritted smile. “I think Colonel Kira wanted to see you about something… .”

Nog pointed across the room. “Look, Lieutenant Bowers is holding an empty glass. You’re not catering for a flat fee, are you?”

Quark hesitated, then grinned at Shar again. “If you’ll excuse me … perhaps we can pick this up again later.”

Shar put on a smile for Nog as Quark swept away. “Hello, Nog.”

“You’ll have to excuse my uncle,” Nog said, smiling back. “He thinks that if he can get in good with you, he’ll have an inside line to the Federation Council.”

Shar felt that too -familiar ache inside, his heart growing heavy and sinking, but Nog wasn’t finished.

“Like anyone cares who your mom is. My dad’s

the Grand Nagus of Ferenginar, but what does that say about me? Nothing, that’s what.”

Shar blinked, looking into Nog’s earnest face-and felt something starting to loosen inside.

“You don’t care …”

“About your mother?” Nog asked. “Why would I? I don’t know her.”

Nog abruptly narrowed his eyes, looking across the room to where the Jem’Hadar was standing with

Dr. Bashir and Ezri, the three of them talking to Commander Vaughn.

“Have you met him yet?” Nog asked.

Shar shook his head, still feeling that sense of release in his chest, feeling good for the first time since Zhavey had called. It didn’t resolve the big problem, about what he was going to do-but if Nog didn’t care about Charivretha zh’Thane … perhaps there were others who didn’t, either.

“Well, Kira can make me talk to him, but she can’t make me like it,” Nog said. “And if he didn’t have

Odo vouching for him, I would have put in for transfer already.”

“You respect Odo,” Shar said.

Nog nodded. “Yeah, I guess I do. He scared me when I was younger, always checking up on me … but he treated me okay once I grew up a little …”

He trailed off, staring at Taran’atar, then looked back at Shar, visibly brightening. “So, I guess we’ re going to be working together for a while, on the Defiant. Kira says that they are going to be refitting it for two science labs, biochem and stellar cartography. It’s going to take weeks to get everything up and running. Ensign Tenmei is supposed to drop by

later, so we can start talking about the new navigation -sensor patch.”

Shar nodded, wondering if he would still be on the station when it was all finished, hoping very much that he would.

“What do you think they will do about the station’s fusion core?”

Nog broke into a grin. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you-I think I have the solution! I just need to make sure the numbers work, but if they do, and if I can convince the colonel to let me go ahead with it, our power problems will be over in a week!”

Shar was skeptical. “A week.”

“Two, tops,” Nog guaranteed. “Come on, let’s go get a couple of drinks, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

When finally Julian got back with their drinks-Quark had run out of synthale, and dashed off to the bar to get more-Ezri and Vaughn were smiling at one another like old friends, Vaughn nodding and shaking her hand.

Julian handed Ezri her drink and Vaughn excused himself, taking Taran’atar with him to meet

Lieutenant Bowers. Ezri was glowing.

“I take it your conversation went poorly,” Julian said, smiling. Across the room, he saw peripherally that Ro Laren and Kasidy had just arrived, and that Quark was practically running to greet them.

Ezri grinned up at him. “I’ll have you know that you’re looking at the unofficial assistant commander for the Defiant’s first trip into the Gamma Quadrant.”

“Ezri, that’s wonderful,” he said, meaning it. “And you’re sure this is what you want …”

“Positive,” she said. “And Vaughn’s going to include his recommendation along wit h Kira’s, that I’m put on a command track.”

Julian touched the rim of her glass with his, feeling a sudden wave of warmth and love for her. They’d had several long talks since he’d woken up from surgery, about needs and expectations. Ezri’s sudden decision to transfer to Command was something of a surprise, but she said that she was ready to commit herself … one of the immediate results being that she wouldn’t need quite so much space to figure out what she wanted to do.

“I just finally realized that with as much potential as I have, I could stand around for years contemplating my choices,” she said, lying in his arms, her ever-cold hands in his. “I want to get on with it, that’s all. I’m ready.”

Julian had surprised himself by trying to talk her out of it, afraid that she was only reacting to his near-death experience, but she insisted that while her fear had played a part in her resolution, it wasn’t the only reason.

“You’re worrying again,” she said. “Quit it, Julian. I made up my mind, and I’m happy with my decision.”

“Yes, but I don’t want you to feel like-“

“-I don’t,” she said firmly. “And it might do you some good to remember that as much as I love you, you’re probably going to be calling me ‘sir’ before too long.”

Julian lowered his voice, leaning in. “I can call you sir now, if you like.”

Her eyes sparkled as she looked over the rim of her glass. “Ask me again later,” she said. Julian promised her that he would.

Vaughn was enjoying himself thoroughly, talking and watching and relaxing. Kira was in a fine mood-and no wonder, she’d told him all about the prophecy situation and its outcome earlier-and though he’d already been impressed by her command in crisis, seeing her at ease and happy cinched his feelings. He was going to like working fo r her.

So far, he’d liked everyone he’d talked with. Vaughn had met most of the senior staff yesterday, and thought them a good mix. The only one he hadn’t met formally was Ro Laren, and when he saw her talking to the Ferengi bartender, he started edging in her direction. Taran’atar, a little baffled but still game, was listening intently to Lieutenant Bowers recommending sociology texts he should look into.

Quark was smiling up at Ro with the unmistakable demeanor of the hopelessly smitten, shooting an unhappy glance in Vaughn’s direction when he approached them.

“Nice party, Quark,” Vaughn said. “Though I should probably tell you, that fruit wine of yours is right on the edge of going bad.”

“I’ll have to look into that,” Quark said blankly, then smiled at Ro again. Vaughn noticed an odd smell coming from him.

“So, tomorrow night it is,” Quark said, and Ro nodded. With another sullen look at Vaughn, the

Ferengi hurried away, a definite spring in his step, taking his odor with him.

“Lieutenant Ro, I’m Elias Vaughn,” he introduced himself, extending his hand. Ro shook a little hesitantly, but her grip was firm.

“Commander,” she said, only meeting his eyes for an instant before looking away. He wasn’t surprised; her disastrous reputation in Starfleet preceded her, and he knew from her files that she was something of an introvert.

“I hear you were top of your class at Advanced Tactical,” Vaughn said. “You know, I helped design part of their curriculum. I’d be interested in hearing what you thought of the entire training experience; we should get together some time.”

Ro nodded, her surprise showing in the slight widening of her eyes. “Sure. That would be fine. I’m sorry, Commander, if you’ll excuse me …”

“Of course. Nice meeting you.”

Ro quickly walked over to where Shar and Nog were, both young men greeting her warmly. Interesting; Vaughn looked forward to knowing her better. She’d led a life of extremes, and he found that while real adversity destroyed many, it also sculpted its survivors into some of the most intriguing personalities he’d ever known.

He wondered if she had any idea what Picard had done, after word had started to spread that she’d resurfaced on Bajor. Starfleet had been ready to clap her in irons and put her away for good, Bajoran government or no Bajoran government. But something about this woman had affected Jean -Luc profoundly, despite her betrayal. He’d actually lobbied Command behind the scenes on her behalf, quietly but insistently, until they agreed to let the Ro Laren matter

drop. Starfleet might never go so far as to issue her a formal pardon, but because of Jean -Luc Picard, they would let her be.

Vaughn noticed that Taran’atar was starting to look a touch uncertain as he sniffed the air around

Quark and went to rescue him, as happy as he’d been in years.

Ensign Prynn Tenmei ran her fingers through her short black hair and checked one more time to make sure her combadge was on straight as she strode toward the hall. She’d been so busy dealing with the Defiant, then the evacuation and its aftermath, that she’d only learned about the new XO and the welcoming reception an hour ago. One shower and fresh uniform later, she felt ready to meet her new commander, and she was determined to make a good first impression.

Tenmei took a deep breath, then another, stepped through the doors … and refused to believe what she saw.

Vaughn.

Oh, God. He’s the new first officer?

He stood there, talking to Lieutenant Ro with a slight smile on his face.

Shaking with rage, Prynn turned before she could be noticed and bolted out the door. She walked quickly away, headed for her quarters. After a few seconds, she broke into a run.

Nerys had gone out of her way to invite Kasidy to the welcoming party. Kas had debated not going, but finally decided that she would stop by at least long

enough to announce her decision, maybe longer depending on how she felt. She ran into Ro just outside the meeting hall, and the two women walked in together in a companionable silence. Kas liked Ro; she thought Baj or could use a few more like her.

Ro was immediately all but tackled by Quark, and looking around, Kasidy realized that she didn’t want to stay; she wasn’t in the mood for light conversation or company, although she had to admit that seeing Taran’atar for the first time definitely captured her attention. It wasn’t every day that one saw a Jem’Hadar at a cocktail party.

Kira was talking to Ezri about something, but when she spotted Kas, she quickly extricated herself and hurried over, smiling a little anxi ously.

“Kas, I’m so glad you decided to come.”

Kasidy smiled, looking into her concerned, searching gaze and seeing how much Kira still wanted their friendship. She was glad for it, but also knew it wasn’t ever going to be the same.

“Actually, I’m not staying,” Kasidy said. “I’m feeling a little tired … but I wanted you to know that

I’ve decided to go ahead with my plans to move to Bajor.”

Relief flooded Kira’s face. “That’s wonderful. I just know it’s the right thing for you, Kas, after all you’ve done with the house, and … and how much you’ve wanted it.”

Kas patted the noticeable swell of her belly, thinking of Ben, thinking that there was just too much tying her to Bajor now. Wondering what her child’s life would be.

“You’re right,” she said , softly. “It’s what I want.”

Only moments after Kasidy left, Kira got a call from ops; a personal line from Bajor was waiting in her office. Vaughn was in the middle of telling a pretty funny anecdote about having to take the Academy flight test with his very first hangover, but Kira didn’t like leaving people on hold; she quietly excused herself from the small audience and slipped out of the meeting hall, hurrying across the Promenade to a turbolift.

On another day, she might have been annoyed at having to leave in the middle of such a pleasant gathering, but she was just too happy. Commander Vaughn was going to make an exceptional first officer; he was emotionally balanced, bright, experienced-and his brush with the Prophets made him the perfect choice for a Bajoran station.

An Orb is home, Bajor is opening up to new ideas, I have a great staff and great friends … and the station is safe.

Kas’s plans to leave the sector had been the only thing that had still felt unresolved, and though Kira had hoped that the revelation of B’hala’s secret crypts would change her mind, she hadn’t been certain. Now, she felt a sense of completion, of things coming full circle-from her early -morning dream of a dying freighter and Benjamin to here and now, riding the li ft to ops and knowing that she had a party of new and old friends to return to, she felt like she’d grown. She felt like for the first time in a while, there was nothing dark hiding in her life, waiting to surprise her.

She stepped into ops, nodding and s miling at the evening shift as she walked to her office. Not

everything was perfect, of course-but happiness wasn’t about achieving perfection. For her, happiness was about hope and feeling loved, about being competent at her job and in touch with herself , with her faith. Life was good, maybe as good as it got.