As Vaughn marched up another rise, he dreaded what he would find on the other side. The experiences of his past had been appearing closer together, and he expected another incident shortly. “You have a mission,” he said, despite the uncertainty of his emotions and of his ability to control them.

As he reached the top of the rise, Vaughn tried to brace himself for whatever lay beyond it. It did not work. He stopped, his eyes narrowing as he regarded what he saw before him.

In the distance, a complex of neglected structures spread across the landscape. From this height, Vaughn could see into their midst. No buildings stood in the center of the complex. There was only a circle of darkness.

The site of the pulse.

52

The wardroom hummed with the sounds of many voices. Kira stood near the doors and surveyed the reception. The Bajoran, Alonis, Trill, and Andorian delegations, all clad in formalwear, continued socializing warmly with each other. Kira had earlier decided to stop speculating about what the future would hold, but if the smiles among the guests were any indication, then Bajor would be a member of the Federation within the next couple of minutes. The mood here had been so positive throughout the evening that even the normally austere Akaar seemed to be enjoying himself. That had seemed like a breakthrough for the unapproachable admiral, and Kira elected to take it as a promising sign. Overall, she thought, the event had been a rousing success.

Not typically enthusiastic herself about mingling with government figures, Kira had actually spent time tonight doing just that. She had moved about the room with relative abandon, drawing both the ambassadors and their staffs into conversation. She supposed that she had wanted to put on Bajor’s best face, though she of course knew that her behavior here would have no bearing on the talks. Still, she liked being positive.

A few meters in front of Kira, Shakaar, and the Trill ambassador, Gandres, were speaking with one of the two officers Kira had introduced as her aides. The two—Sergeants Etana and Shul—were actually Lieutenant Ro’s deputies, and the only signs visible to Kira of what she knew was incredibly tight security. As she watched, Shakaar, Gandres, and Etana moved to one side, allowing Tel Ammanis Lent, the Alonis ambassador, to float past them in her antigrav chair. Lent thanked the trio for their courtesy as she went by, and then glided over to Kira.

“Ambassador,” Kira greeted her, smiling. “I hope that you’re having a pleasant evening.”

“I am, thank you, Colonel,” Lent said, her words passing through a level of conversion even before reaching Kira’s universal translator. The water-breathing Alonis, when not in an aquatic environment, wore formfitting suits that held a layer of water suspended against their scales. The helmets they wore contained a device that transmitted the sounds of their underwater voices out into the air. “And the food,” Lent went on, “is the best I’ve had at a foreign facility.” Kira did not know exactly how the Alonis ate while wearing their environmental suits, but obviously they somehow managed the feat.

“I’m glad you like it,” Kira said. “It’s just Bajoran hospitality.”

“And you are certainly very welcoming,” Lent said. “By the way, the kelp is truly delicious.”

“Good,” Kira said. “I’d heard it was flavorful.” While it surprised her that Quark had actually been telling the truth about the exorbitantly priced kelp, what intrigued her more were the Alonis themselves. They physically resembled the creatures of myth that possessed the head and upper body of a Bajoran and the tail of a fish. The silvery bodies of the Alonis were not precisely like that, but similar; their head and torso were more or less humanoid in shape and function, but they had a long tail structure instead of legs, and short fins in place of arms. They had no opposable digits, but had developed an advanced civilization via their short-range psychokinetic ability, which they used to manipulate water into essentially solid tools. They had joined the Federation forty years ago, and were widely regarded as a kind and peaceful people.

“So I’d like to know, Colonel,” Lent asked, “have you ever been to Alonis?”

“I haven’t,” Kira admitted. “But I have been reading about your people and your world. It sounds like you have a beautiful civilization.” The ambassador flipped up the bottom of her tail. Kira had learned just a few minutes ago from one of Lent’s aides that such a gesture indicated grateful acknowledgment. “Have you ever been to Bajor?”

“I have not,” the ambassador said. “But the rich green of your oceans seems like quite an exotic setting.” The waters on Alonis, Kira had read, were colored a deep purple, like those on Trill. “I look forward to visiting them one day.”

“Well, there are no underwater cities—” The doors to the wardroom whispered open behind Kira, and she glanced over her shoulder to see who had entered. Quark stood there, carrying a tray of what appeared to be Bajoran fruits in a jumjaglaze. He quickly scanned the room, as though searching for somebody. When he spotted Kira nearby, he immediately stepped over to her.

“Colonel, have you seen Lieutenant Ro?” he asked. He seemed agitated to Kira, and she could only imagine what sort of trouble he had caused this time.

“No, I haven’t,” she told him, but Quark’s attention had already left her. He moved his head from side to side, apparently trying to see past some of the guests.

“Is that her?” he said suddenly, and he thrust the tray of desserts at Kira. She instinctively put her hands up and took the tray, and Quark hurried away.

“Quark,” she called after him, but he was already halfway across the room, weaving a path through the guests. Both exasperated and a bit embarrassed, Kira looked back at Lent. “Ambassador, if you’ll pardon me,” she said.

“Of course, Colonel.”

Kira strode in the opposite direction Quark had taken. She went to the end of the room, where tables had been set up for the food. She found an empty space and set the tray down, then turned to look for Quark. Before she located him, though, the doors to the wardroom slid open once more. This time, Ro Laren entered. “Lieutenant,” Kira called as she made her way over to the security chief.

“Colonel,” Ro said. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” Kira said. “In fact, I’d like to compliment you on security. You’ve really done a fine job.”

“Thank you,” Ro said. The lieutenant seemed distracted, her gaze constantly moving about the room—part of her security training, Kira assumed.

“Quark just came in here looking for you,” Kira warned her.

“Quark?” Ro said. “Did he say—”

A blur of movement occurred at Kira’s side. “Laren,” Quark burst in. “I need to speak with you.”

Laren?Kira thought, and she wondered when Quark had developed the nerve to address the security chief by her given name.

“Not now, Quark,” Ro said, her eyes still moving about, studying the room. “I’m on duty.”

“Laren, listen,” he said, dropping the volume of his voice down to what Kira thought of as a conspiratorial level. The Ferengi drifted sideways, insinuating himself between Kira and Ro, his back to Kira. “I need to know what’s going on here.”

“Did you ever think that if we didn’t tell you about it,” Kira said over his shoulder, “that it might not be any of your business?”

Quark ignored Kira and continued talking to Ro. “Please,” he implored her. “I need to know—”