14

KEIKO STOOD ON KASIDY’S BACK PORCH, BEMUSEDLY WATCHING JAKE play with the children in the late-afternoon sun. She wasn’t sure of the game, but they were certainly enjoying it; Jake ran through the overgrown field with Yoshi on his shoulders, Molly at his side, her arms out as though in flight. They’d run quite a distance, the faint sound of their laughter only just carrying back to the house. Kasidy, Joseph, and Judith had all walked to the nearest village to buy vegetables an hour or so earlier, and should be back soon, before dark, Kasidy said

and Miles was inside, talking to Kira.

And he’s telling her that he can’t. Whatever it is she called for, he’s telling her that he’s a teacher now, that he’s on leave, and that he didn’t come all the way out here to risk his life rigging together some miracle or other to save the day. He’s made promises.

Was that uncharitable? Maybe. Probably. She sighed, folding her arms against her chest. She knew herself too well, at times, knew that she was just waiting for him to come outside with that hangdog look on his face so that she could be angry. After so many years of marriage, she could feel the unformed resentment tugging at her, could feel the desire to pick a fight.

Maybe she was tired of watching him march off into danger, and she was, tired to her very core. When the DS9 position had first opened, she’d been all for it. She’d mistakenly assumed that compared with some of what they’d experienced on the Enterprise, a space station would have to be safer. There had been Molly to consider, after all, and even then she’d dreamed of having another child. When they’d actually gone to the station, when she’d seen what the living conditions were like, how limited her own career opportunities would be

even then, she’d stuck to her end of the bargain, for the sake of his job. But if she was going to be honest with herself—and the time was long past when she could afford not to be—she’d also been willing to stay out on the frontier’s edge because she, too, had a touch of the adventurer’s spirit, had wanted some of the same challenges out of life that Miles so enjoyed.

But the war changed that, at least for me. And for him

She held herself tighter, watching the children play. She wanted him to be happy, of course, wanted to support him in his choices. He liked teaching, or at least certain aspects of it

but she could see that he was already starting to chafe a bit around the collar, and that worried her. Maybe she had pushed too hard for him to take the Academy position, because she wanted some stability for her children, some prospects for herself. And it was a feather in his cap, no two ways about it; teaching AP Engineering at the Academy was a position of no small esteem.

Except this isn’t about fear, or what’s best for him, or what’s best for our family, is it?

She sighed. No, of course it wasn’t. A good marriage—and she and Miles had one, she knew it and was both proud of and grateful for it—demanded a willingness to examine one’s own motivations, with as much honesty as possible. It was hard work; blaming Miles would be a lot easier, but this was about her. The comm she’d received just before they’d left Earth, from the I.A.A.C

. she’d been offered an incredible opportunity, and had turned it down without even telling Miles about it. Because she wanted to be fair, because she wanted to keep her promises. That was why it seemed so important that he turn Kira down, if that was even the reason for her call. Because if she was going to make yet another sacrifice, she wanted a little of the same consideration.

But maybe it’s time for him to support you, for a change, she thought, the thought a whisper, feeling guilty and defensive and secretly joyful, all at once. They’d agreed that the move to Earth was the best thing, for all of them, but the I.A.A.C.’s offer

it was once-in-a-lifetime. The rep she’d talked to had asked her to reconsider, to think it over, and though she’d insisted that her answer likely wouldn’t change, she couldn’t stop thinking about it, either.

So if it’s a done deal, why haven’t you mentioned it, yet?

Because

because she didn’t know why.

Because you want it.

Yes. Because she wanted it.

“Hey,” Miles said, and Keiko turned, forcing a slight smile, one that quickly faded. Even with a grin pasted on, apology was written in the lines of his face as he stepped outside, squinting at the sudden brightness. She knew she’d only been ready to lay blame because of her own secret-keeping, but felt a burst of anger at him, anyway.

“Miles, you didn’t,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and sighed, stepping closer. “I tried to get out of it, I swear I did, but Kira said that Nog was working on some kind of weapon scanner, that it’s not picking up a certain biosig, and asked if I could take a look, and I said—”

“I don’t care what you said,” Keiko snapped, and was instantly sorry when she saw the flash of hurt in his eyes. His shields were up an instant later, she could see them go, but the damage had been done.

“What am I supposed to do, Keiko?” he asked, shrugging his arms wide. “I’m still in Starfleet. It’s my duty to help, and I owe Kira, we both do. If she’d asked you, what would you have said?”

She didn’t answer, only turned back to the children. Jake was swinging Molly around by her arms. Yoshi sat in the dirt, giggling, his grubby hands reaching out for a turn. Kirayoshi. Of course he has to go.

He touched her shoulder, his voice softening. “I am sorry,” he said.

“I got a call from the I.A.A.C.,” she said, not turning to look at him, surprised to hear herself say it, just like that. She’d made no decision to tell him, but knew, as she spoke, that there had never really been a choice. They were married. “Right before we left. They offered me a position.”

Miles turned her around, smiling broadly, a touch of confusion in his happiness for her. She’d applied to the Interstellar Agricultural Aid Commission soon after their return to Earth, had waited for months to hear back from them. They were technically private-sector, but worked closely with the Federation. “That’s great. Where’s—Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I turned it down,” she said, only able to meet his gaze for a second, her feelings in a muddle. “I turned it down, but now—I don’t know.”

Miles shook his head. “I don’t understand. What’s the job?”

In spite of her upset, telling him made her proud. “Only to head the botany team on a planet renewal,” she said. “Crops, season patterning, new irrigation systems, everything.”

“That’s wonderful! I thought you weren’t even going to apply for a lead position, you were so sure you wouldn’t make it,” Miles said, beaming at her. “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Keiko smiled, felt her eyes well with tears at the same time. “You don’t understand. I’d—we’d have to move there, for at least two years.”

“Well, where is it?”

“Cardassia.”

Cardassia. The word hung between them, stilling his excitement, painful to even say aloud. How many old wounds did he have because of them? How many times had he expressed his distrust of them, as a people? How often had he complained about their technology, been appalled—as she had—by aspects of their society? He’d come to a grudging tolerance for them through the years, had even learned to respect a few select individuals, but want to move there? With the children? How could she possibly expect that of him?

Because I matter, too, that whisper of thought. My career matters, too.

To her surprise, he didn’t immediately scoff, didn’t throw off a line about how she’d been right to turn the offer down. He only stood there, looking vaguely stunned, uncertain.

“There are a number of offworld projects starting up there, to work with the survivors, to help rebuild,” she said quietly. “We wouldn’t be the only humans.”

“You’re seriously considering it,” he said, almost wonderingly, his face flushing slightly. “Without even telling me.”

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you wouldn’t even think about it,” she said, her own defenses rising. “You hate Cardassia.”

“I don’t remember you ever expressing any particular love for it,” he retorted. “Anyway, you said you already turned it down. What does my opinion matter?”

“I turned it down because we just moved, because you just started teaching,” she said, hearing the sullen note in her voice, unable to keep it out. “How could I even ask?”

Miles stared at her, that look that drove her crazy, that suggested she’d lost her mind. “So now you’re mad at me because you didn’t ask me something you thought I’d say no to?”

Keiko sighed. This was going nowhere. “No, I’m not mad,” she said. “Or maybe I am, but it’s not your fault. I just

I feel like all the big decisions we’ve made have been about your career, about what I’d have to sacrifice. Don’t misunderstand, I agreed to those things at the time, it’s just

I don’t know. Would you have considered it? Really?”

He frowned, thinking, and in spite of her distress she felt a rush of love for him, for his ability to set aside the quarrel, to see that she wasn’t trying to make things bad between them.

“Moving to Cardassia?” He smiled a little, shaking his head. “Of all the planets

I don’t know, Kay. I’d like to say that I’d be a hundred percent behind you, whatever you want, but there? I really don’t know.”

She sighed again, but nodded. She could always count on him for honesty.

“We should talk more about this,” he said. “But I told Kira

“

“

That you’d be right there,” she finished. “I know. You’ll be careful?”

“Always,” he said, and stepped in to kiss her, to hold her briefly in his strong, warm arms. “And I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise.”

“Stop promising me things,” she said, and though she meant it to come off lightly, she felt a slight distance come up between them even before he stepped away.

He went down to tell the children and Keiko watched him walk away, watched Molly run toward him, Yoshi toddling behind. They would talk later, that was something

because in the course of their brief discussion, she’d realized that she wanted the Cardassia job, wanted it with all her heart.

“Are you prepared?” Opaka asked, smiling at Vaughn. He knelt in front of the ark on a small pillow, anxious and expectant, a shaft of late-afternoon sunlight playing across the floor, casting the intricate carvings on the small casket in bright relief.

Vaughn nodded. He was nervous, but she could feel his readiness, too, feel how open he was to the experience. They were alone, in one of the larger meditation rooms. She’d wanted to take him to the underground chamber, to see if another Orb called to him, but was told by a smiling young prylar she’d never met that the current security standards wouldn’t allow for it. She’d noted an air of tension in the past few days, and hoped it would soon pass. It seemed strange to her, that even a former kai apparently wasn’t to be trusted in the turbulence following Shakaar’s assassination. A pair of monks had brought the Orb of Unity up from the chamber instead, at her request. Unlike the prylar, they hadn’t smiled.

“You’ll stay?” Vaughn asked, not for the first time.

Opaka nodded. Direct communion with the Prophets was considered to be the most private of experiences for a Bajoran, but he wasn’t Bajoran—and it seemed to ease his mind, to know that she’d be with him. She could watch without participating, use the time for her own reflection. Even being near an open ark was an experience, in itself—not as powerful, but still quite moving.

“I’ll be here,” she said. She moved behind the ark, made herself comfortable on the small padded bench that she’d placed there, and reached around the Prophet’s Tear. She could feel its wondrous energy, had felt it like a warm embrace when it had been brought in, and had marveled anew at the Love They shared with Their children, the opportunities They offered for self-awareness. It struck her yet again, how unnecessary Yevir’s concerns were, his fear for the Bajoran people’s spiritual context; the Prophets were Many, One, and All. Whatever form They took, however They were perceived

it was all Truth. It was the faith that mattered, faith that carried men and women through the Great Tapestry, through good times and ill.

Faith, and an open heart, she thought, smiling anew at the man in front of her, a man who reminded her of the Emissary, just a little. Human, troubled, seeking answers without really knowing the questions

“Walk with the Prophets,” she said, and opened the doors.