Utterly unruffled, he dropped to the floor to retrieve the empty box, gather up the bag and a few clothes, and return them to the desk. Smiling kindly, he said, “You need to relax, Nerys. I’m worried about how stressed you are. You should take some time off. Go away. Clear your head.”
She stared at him, still clinging to the one idea that made sense to her. “You don’t know—you couldn’t have—there’s no way—” she stammered.
“Yes?”
“The vandalism. The veiled threats at the Cardassian delegation. You didn’t have anything to do—?”
“Come now, Nerys—this is me you’re talking to,” he placed his hands on his chest. “Listen to how ridiculous you sound! I’m the First Minister of Bajor. I don’t deal in criminal conspiracies. Besides, I wasn’t even here tonight. You knowme, Nerys. Almost better than anyone.”
Kira shook her head in disbelief. “You know, logically, you’re right. And I am under a lot of stress. But I don’tknow you anymore,” she confessed. And it hurt to say it. Who she was resulted from, in no small part, the time she had spent with Shakaar. To have arrived at a place where she could even fathom making an accusation against him…. Her convulsing world left her unbalanced, disoriented. “But if Ro’s investigation uncovers even the smallest link to you, Minister, nothing will protect you from me.”
“I’ll submit myself to your lash if I’m found guilty of skulking around Deep Space 9 and terrorizing its residents,” he said sarcastically.
The door chimed; Sirsy announced Vedek Nolan, who became distinctly uncomfortable upon seeing Kira as he entered the office. His beady eyes darted between her and the minister. “Late night shrine services, Minister. You asked for an escort?” he questioned.
“Yes, I wanted an update about how the station’s religious community was faring in these troubled times,” Shakaar explained to the confused vedek who clearly was wondering what Kira was doing here when business hours had ended earlier. “I think we’re done here, aren’t we, Colonel?” he asked Kira mildly.
Their word battles had been punctuated with dueling glares; this last round proved not to be an exception. This time, Shakaar looked away first.
Kira knew he could afford to lose because circumstances provided him the perfect snub. He’s going to services. He’s actually going to services and I can’t! And he enjoys that.“Yes, we’re done.”
Shakaar nodded and launched into animated dialogue with the vedek as he swept past Kira and out of the room.
“For now,” she said softly.
They still hadn’t answered her calls, even though she’d started signaling at their door five minutes ago. And that was after three failed attempts to contact Thriss from her office, once Dr. Girani had told Phillipa about the latest incident. Phillipa believed herself to be a patient person—except in an emergency. Present circumstances certainly qualified.
Over the course of their sessions, Phillipa had pieced together Shar and Thriss’s history. By calling in a few favors, she’d been able to gain access to an Andorian database that explained in academic terms the physiological processes Thriss had described. Shar and Thriss had initiated tezha,a facet of sexual intimacy, but not in the conventional sense that most humanoids understood. Tezhaliterally created a tangible, biochemical attachment between bondmates; bodies became tuned to each other, with brain chemistry and endocrine balances responding to the unique combination of sensory markers that identified the bondmates. It wasn’t unlike imprinting between young and their parents. When bondmates ventured into intimate associations before the shelthreth,the overall cohesion of the bond wasn’t assured. Bonds between segments surpassed bonds within the whole group. Because Thriss’ attachment to Shar surpassed what she shared with the others, Phillipa worried that Anichent and Dizhei wouldn’t be adequately attuned to Thriss to provide her the emotional support she needed to weather this crisis.
Phillipa rolled back on her heels outside Shar’s quarters, wondering if Thriss would answer a direct call if she used her combadge. Before her hand reached her chest, the door hissed open, revealing Anichent.
“Good day, Counselor. Have you anything new to report from Colonel Kira? Perhaps a letter from Shar?” he said, his tightly tensed antennae betraying more about his frame of mind than the lackadaisical way he leaned against the door frame. As if he’s trying desperately to appear casual in order to mask his emotional state. Nice try, Anichent.
“Dr. Girani told me what happened. I’m here to see Thriss.” She took a step toward the threshold, but Anichent made no move to get out of her way. Not being one for words, he resorts to physical intimidation,she reasoned. If worst comes to worst, I’ve mastered the Vulcan neck pinch. I could have him on the floor in a second. And Dizhei? I could take her, no problem.Phillipa only pondered violent impulses—she never seriously considered instigating a fight. But she took comfort knowing she was equally matched with most who might threaten her. Nobody ever expects the counselor to kick ass.
“Thriss is resting now. You can see her in the morning,” Anichent said, folding his arms. “I understand why you’re here. We appreciate your concern. But this is a family matter and Dizhei and I will handle it.”
“She almost assaulted a patient, Anichent,” Phillipa said. “A child. That’s completely uncharacteristic of her. Adults? Yes. Children? Never. Her disppointment at not receiving a letter from Shar could be triggering a serious relapse.” She hadn’t had time to read the whole report, but she’d read enough to worry her.
A primary schoolchild with a fracture received during exercise period had come in to have the bone mended. A routine procedure Thriss had performed many times. Busy with an OB exam, Girani had asked Thriss to assist Ensign Mancuso, the nurse. While Mancuso prepped the fracture repair kit, Thriss had grown frustrated with the child’s persistent tears and had screamed at her, thrown a tray of medical tools across the room and scared the wits out of the child.
“We’re all saddened by not hearing from Shar, but there’s always next time. We’re here for Thriss. We’ll help her cope with this.”Anichent wouldn’t budge. “We’re waiting to confirm our decision with Councillor zh’Thane, but I believe we’ll be leaving for Andor tomorrow. It’s what’s best for us.”
Phillipa shifted her weight to one hip. “This persistent focus on ‘we,’ while admirable in its loyalty fails to acknowledge Thriss’s needs as an individual. She might not be as well-equipped to deal with this as you are, Anichent.” When Thriss had become Phillipa’s patient, she had spent hours scouring the database for any helpful information. A portrait of a species intent on protecting the needs of the whole over the one had emerged. Not an easy obstacle for a therapist to hurdle when one of the parts of the whole was broken. “You’re making a mistake,” Phillipa reiterated, hoping Anichent would relent.
“You come from a species that has the luxury of considering the needs of the individual first. We do not,” Anichent said quietly. “Our social customs are complex, Counselor. I think we’re the best first line of defense for Thriss. Out of deference to you, we’ll bring her to your office first thing tomorrow, before we leave for good.”
Perceiving Anichent as immovable, Phillipa backed away from the threshold of ch’Thane’s quarters and watched the door close in her face.
As much as she wanted to help Thriss immediately, believing that one could bleed to death as easily from a slow hemorrhage as from a severed artery, she would compromise rather than cause conflict among the bondmates. Their relationship had the deceptive fragility of crystal: smooth and hard to the touch, but quick to be crushed with any measure of applied force. Phillipa refused to push, lest she be the one to finally shatter Thriss.