“You Think I’m Being Unfair to the Cardassians?” Second Minister Asarem Asked.
“Ambassador Lang is asking for medical supplies, not quantum torpedoes, ”Kira said. “How does taking a hard line, making it difficult to save Cardassian lives, benefit Bajor?”
“Your attitude surprises me, Colonel,” Asarem said pointedly. “You of all people should appreciate the need to ensure that Cardassia is never again in a position to harm Bajor, or anyone else. Perhaps the reports of your patriotism are exaggerated.”
Kira’s eyes narrowed. “Have you even been to Cardassia since the war?”
“No,” Asarem said. “I haven’t.”
“Then what right do you have to dismiss Ambassador Lang the way you did just now?”
“The rights given me by the people of Bajor who elected me to serve them.”
“And the people of Bajor elected you to be their avenging angel? To single-handedly make the Cardassians pay for fifty years of wrongdoing?”
Asarem slammed her case on the table. “I decided to hear you out because as the commander of Deep Space 9 you’re owed a measure of input. But I’m done.”
Kira persisted. “For all the horrors inflicted on us by the Cardassians, half our population wasn’t executed and millions of our children haven’t died since with flesh melting off their bodies due to radiation sickness. We didn’t emerge from the Occupation drowning in our own dead. Where is your compassion, Minister?”
“With the generations of dead and brutalized Bajorans who committed no crime save being born Bajoran. The Cardassians allied with the Dominion. They brought destruction on themselves. Now get out of my way before I call First Minister Shakaar and inform him that we need to reconsider your position as commander of this station.”
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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“What do you fear, lady?” he asked.
“A cage,” she said. “To stay behind bars, until use and old age accept them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or desire.”
—J.R.R. TOLKIEN,
The Return of the King
For my husband, Parry, and my father, Jeff—
because they handed me the key
and
In memory of my brother Tad:
“Not all those who wander are lost.”
Acknowledgments
If it takes a village to raise a child, it takes a family to write a book. Many deserve thanks.
First, I would be remiss if I didn’t express gratitude to the Deep Space Ninefamily of actors and writers who gave us this incredible universe to play in. Long after this book is garage sale fodder, DS9will endure.
My husband continually pushed me to aim higher; without his encouragement I never would have tried, let alone succeeded. He and my daughters—Sara, Ally, Rachel, and Abby—showed admirable patience and positive attitudes throughout this process. My parents, Marge and Jeff Clayton, must have wondered how they grew a geeky daughter in the midst of my cheerleader sisters, but they have always supported me with enthusiasm. My siblings deserve notice as well: Laurie reintroduced me to Star Trekafter years of hiatus; Jane was my steady support; Tad shared my love of sci-fi and fantasy; and Julie was a bud. My brother Peter is a marvelous thinker, genetics researcher, and social policy innovator who gave me the tools for the Andorian backstory. My sister-in-law Amy inspired me with her bravery. Peter Jarman’s loan of his laptop assured there would be a book.
A tender thank you to my fellowship of writers, all of whom own part of this book. My incredible writing partner, Kirsten, might not have co-written this with me, but she’s been with me in the trenches the whole way—middle of the night, weekends, deadlines. She’s the godmother of the project. Jeff Lang, whose wit, wisdom, and open arms saw me through rewrites, incessant whining, and everything else. A gifted writer in her own right, Bethany Phillips is the reason the outline was eventually completed. Thanklessly, she proofread, talked plot points, and offered advice whenever, wherever. Jim Wright, a comrade in arms, who, in a way, started me on this road when he said, “You should write a column for The Starfleet Journal. ”Keith DeCandido was the voice of pragmatic experience who talked me off a few proverbial ledges!
Dena’s blanket hugs and prayers kept me warm through long hours at the computer. My dear MIA Mikaela brought the funny whenever I needed it. Both of you deserve smooches.