Ro would be lying if she didn’t admit to enjoying her brief chat with Lang. After a few minutes of animated discussions with the ambassador, Ro considered that her own view of Cardassians as an aloof, calculating and cruel people might warrant an exception. Lang had a sense of humor; she questioned her people’s nearly universal adherence to officially sanctioned views of government, religion and ethics. Her misgivings about Cardassians weren’t entirely unlike Ro’s concerns about the Bajoran tendency to mindlessly accept whatever the vedeks passed down to them without critically thinking through the rightness of those edicts. She found herself nodding in agreement with Lang’s ideas without pausing to consider that these ideas came from a Cardassian.

In an impulsive moment, before she’d left the Cardassians to settle into their quarters, Ro had asked Lang to join her for drinks at Quark’s sometime after dinner. She conceded her own naughty curiosity about Quark’s reaction to seeing his old flame, elegant and beautiful as ever. But there was also her hope, however small, that she could, once and for all, eliminate the bitter taste of suspicion from her mouth, by proving Taran’atar, herself, and all those who lived in a place of mistrust and ignorance, wrong.

Councillor Charivretha zh’Thane sat taller in her chair, hoping to create the impression that she was listening attentively to the Bajoran trade minister. Her seasoned experience in surviving such meetings aided her attempts to focus, but enduring Minister Kren’s nasal monotone for extended periods of time required more than her usual self-discipline. Unwilling to risk appearing impatient, Charivretha deigned to check the time; she guessed Minister Kren’s accounting of Bajor’s trade relationships with non-Federation worlds had been going on for two hours. His proposed solutions to amending those trade relationships once Bajor entered the Federation would account for another two hours. A suggestion to Second Minister Asarem Wadeen, who peripherally supervised Bajor’s monetary and trade policies, that Minister Kren submit his remarks in text for subsequent sessions might be in order. Charivretha’s two dozen or so counterparts appeared to be focused on the speaker. Perhaps it was the dual impact of Kren’s nervous energy and vocal tones on her Andorian senses that made her restless. Or perhaps not: out of the corner of her eye, she noted the meeting’s chair, Trill ambassador Seljin Gandres, dozing off in spite of Gandres’s years dealing with the Pakleds on behalf of the Trill diplomatic corps.

Charivretha’s antennae alerted her to her aide’s presence; Thanis’s relaxed energy patterns were distinctive in this tightly wound room. He whispered something in her ear, stepped back and waited for her response. Damn. We’re already working on the station instead of Bajor to accommodate my personal circumstances,she thought. If I keep asking for favors, I’ll prompt more questions and curiosity—exactly what I’m trying to avoid. But this situation can’t be helped.She raised her placard, asking for recognition from the chair.

Gandres started, too relieved at Charivretha’s interruption to be properly discreet. “Excuse me, Minister Kren, Councillor zh’Thane has asked to be recognized.”

“A matter of personal concern has come to my attention. I’d like leave for the remainder of the hour, with the chair’s approval,” Charivretha asked.

Gandres picked up his wand and tapped the bell sitting on the table before him. “Chair calls a recess for all delegates. Session to be resumed at 1330.”

While her colleagues and their aides milled around her, some lining up at the replicators, others starting preparations for their own remarks, Charivretha gathered her things and followed Thanis to the wardroom’s antechamber where her visitor awaited.

Uncharacteristically, the usually composed Dizhei paced the length of the room. Her antennae tense, eyes bright with worry, Dizhei flew to Charivretha’s side as soon as her elder entered. Before Dizhei could speak, Charivretha raised a hand for calm. “I’m assuming we have a situation with Thriss.”

“It’s not asituation, Zhadi,it’s the ongoing situation. I’m so sorry to disturb you, but there was an incident with the cloth merchant an hour ago and I’m uncertain how to proceed,” Dizhei said through short bursts of breath.

Sighing, Charivretha took a seat on one of the benches lining the waiting room. She patted the spot beside her, indicating to Dizhei to join her. Charivretha rested a hand on Dizhei’s shoulder, making small, soft circles on her back. “Slow down, Dizhei. You’ll faint.”

Clenching and unclenching her hands, Dizhei leaned closer to Charivretha, allowing the young one to whisper her concerns. “I thought a distraction would help. She’s done little but taunt poor Anichent about the lack of progress in his research—if you were to ask me, I think she’s tampering with his data just to see if she can make him as irritable as she is, but I have no proof to support such allegations and even Thriss tends not to be cruel—”

“Dizhei, shri’za,” Charivretha implored, hoping her use of the endearment softened what she imagined was her own impatient tone. She also hoped it reminded her son’s bondmate that they were not alone in this place, that discretion was paramount. “When your students misbehave, are you always so flustered?”

“I’m sorry, Zhadi.I see more than mere misbehavior from Thriss, and I fear where I see these behaviors leading.”

“Explain,” she prompted.

“We went out shopping today. I had read in the station announcements that a group of craftsmen from the Musilla province would be displaying their wares. I thought it might take her mind off—” she paused “—everything. She likes mingling with those of other cultures. Her zhaveyis a textile artist and I thought she’d find an outing pleasant.”

“And…?”

“She found a piece of cloth—handwoven, exquisitely rich in color and detail. Seeing that it pleased her, I asked the merchant discreetly for a price—I thought I would surprise her with it as a gift. When he tried to take it away from her, telling her at my request that it wasn’t for sale, she raged at him. ‘How could he deny a soul her burial shroud? Was cruelty to widows part of his way of doing business?’ I paid him the litas you left me and removed her from the shop as soon as I could.”

“You did well. What do you require of me?” Charivretha squeezed Dizhei’s leg affectionately.

“I believe we need to reconsider our plan to wait here until Shar returns,” Dizhei answered confidently. “Anichent agrees.”

Charivretha imagined how long Anichent and Dizhei had been planning on bringing this proposal to her before Thriss’ behavior forced the issue. The intimate associations of bondmates…I miss them,she thought, remembering her own experiences. But sometimes bondmates lacked the objectivity to perceive the wisest course of action. “Didn’t we all decide that being here when Shar comes back will improve the chances of his returning to Andor for the shelthreth?”

“Thriss is pained by the reminders of Thirishar that surround us, and yet she wallows in them. She, of all of us, insists on sleeping in his bed every night,” Dizhei shook her head. “I can’t help but think that perhaps, if we go home, Thriss can lose herself in her studies. Complete her medical training and start her residency sooner.”

Charivretha considered her child’s mate, imagining not for the first time how effective Dizhei must be in dealing with her pupils’ overly concerned families. Not one for impulsivity, Dizhei had the most responsible nature of the four of them. She could be counted on to be rational under the most trying circumstances. And yet, here she sat, her flushed forehead and bloodshot eyes tangible evidence of emotional distress. If gentle Dizhei felt this undone by her predicament, Charivretha could hardly fathom what the moody Thriss might be capable of. One misstep and Shar’s future could be jeopardized. The stakes could hardly be higher. I wonder if allzhavey s go through this…