A look passed between Shakaar and Asarem, and for a fleeting moment, Kira sensed disapproval from the first minister. While she knew she wasn’t on the current list of Shakaar’s favorites, she couldn’t understand what would bother him about having her present during the talks. None of the others in the group appeared cognizant that anything passed between Asarem and Shakaar. Maybe I’m just imagining things…
Shakaar wrapped an arm around Kira’s shoulder. “First thing tomorrow, Colonel Kira will need to locate an appropriate spot to house the Ziyal exhibit. I’m anxious to make it available to the station population for viewing immediately.” He smiled down at Kira, who wondered what the hell he was doing with an arm around her in public. Leaving aside the fact that they were once romantically involved, it wasn’t professional—and showing public approval of Kira wouldn’t help push through his political agenda.
A waiter carrying a tray full of springwine passed behind her, giving her an inconspicuous way to maneuver away from Shakaar. “We’re going to display the artwork here?” Kira was a little surprised. It seemed more appropriate to exhibit it at the Chamber of Ministers or the Museum of Bajoran History and Art in Dakhor.
“For the time being, until we can package it in such a way that it can travel all over Bajor for all of our people to experience. I think there are enough individuals on the station who remember Ziyal that it’s particularly appropriate that it start out here. I’m certain you’ll do a wonderful job.” Shakaar carried on, seemingly oblivious that Kira had extricated herself from his embrace.
“However I can be of service,” Kira replied, taking a sip from her goblet. With Shakaar’s enthusiasm directed at preparing for the exhibit, she hoped the time had arrived when she could slip away before he demanded that she moonlight as the curator. Maybe one of these days he’d recognize that being a starbase commander was a full-time job! The reception had gone well, but she wanted to go back to worrying about malfunctioning docking clamps and temperamental Cardassian computers. “If you all don’t mind, I’d like to check in at ops. Duty calls and all that.” She stepped back, deposited her wine glass on a table and moved to leave when Lang stopped her.
“When you’re finished arranging for the exhibit, I look forward to your visiting the talks. I think you could offer them a unique perspective,” she said.
Before Kira could respond, Asarem, who had remained on the periphery of the conversation, stepped forward. “May I ask why you feel that way, Ambassador? Why you see Colonel Kira as being different from the rest of us? She’s Bajoran. A former resistance fighter even.” Asarem hadn’t exactly thrown down the gauntlet, but she had offered Lang her first direct challenge, the opening move in a game of strategy.
Kira had almost wormed her way out of the group when Shakaar grabbed her by the elbow and steered her back into the circle, presumably to hear Lang’s answer and provide any necessary clarification. Damn. So much for getting out of here in a timely fashion…
“Because Colonel Kira is a living witness to atrocities inflicted on my people, as well as her own,” Lang answered, countering Asarem’s pawn by moving out her own.
The conspicuous position Kira had been avoiding all evening finally found her; Admiral Akaar, Minister Asarem and Shakaar watched her, waiting for her response. Wait a minute, I’m not one of the players here—I’m not even the referee. What I think—what I feel—has absolutely no bearing on this situation.
And while Lang technically spoke the truth, Kira sensed that the ambassador’s perceptions of the facts contrasted strongly with the second minister’s perceptions of the same facts. She couldn’t read Asarem, however: the minister’s relaxed countenance betrayed nothing but impartiality. “I think you’re overstating my understanding of the circumstances, Ambassador Lang,” Kira said. “I’m only one person with one opinion.”
Admiral Akaar’s solemn face broke into a genial smile. “Among humans there is a saying that ‘No man is an island, entire of itself.’ Rather, every individual is a piece of the whole. I take that to mean that we do not have the luxury of thinking that our opinions—our actions—as individuals do not matter.”
“I understand what you’re saying, sir, but I hardly think that it’s fair to give my opinion that kind of weight, under the circumstances. I’m not—I can’t—speak for Bajor. That task has been assigned to Second Minister Asarem.” Kira deftly forfeited her turn in whatever game Asarem had instigated. She had no desire to launch a political career and she wasn’t about to be maneuvered into starting one. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Admiral, Minister Shakaar, Minister Asarem, Ambassador Lang, I have a station to run.”
Bowing out of the circle, she walked briskly away, her steps slowing when she discovered that Macet stood, like a sentinel, beside the exit. He smiled at her approach, which only got under her skin. Macet’s persistent, unwanted attention was like having an itchy rash you couldn’t scratch; except that, in this case, she wanted to scratch it with her fists.
“Gul Macet,” she said with a nod.
“Colonel. It appears another evening has passed without us finding a moment to talk.”
“That does, indeed, appear to be the case. We’ll have to address that situation very soon.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Colonel. I anticipate being on the station for some time.”
“I expect you will be. Now if you don’t mind—”
“Of course.” He unfolded his arm in a “after you” gesture, directing Kira toward the door.
Once she was safely beyond the reception room, beyond Macet’s eyeshot, she threw back her head and tensed her whole body. If it wasn’t Shakaar and his endless list of menial tasks or Lang wanting to use Kira as a buffer between her and Asarem, it was Macet, looking for a new friend. “Arrghh!” she growled, throwing a punch into the air.
Quark poked his head out of the doorway where he had been working. “You seem a little stressed there, Colonel.”
“What?” she snapped.
“You should let off some steam,” he said congenially. “Couple of hours in a holosuite. Buff Beach Boys of Risa.You might feel better. I’ll even give you a discount.”
“You’re being serious.”
“As a citizen of the community, I’m looking out for our best interests. A happy commander makes for a happy station.”
Kira narrowed her eyes. “And you signed up to be morale officer…when?”
“Well—”
“I should take advice from the used spaceship salesman who probably put personal profit before the well-being of his nephew’s best friend?” Kira wrapped her fists in his lapels. “I don’t think so.”
“What? Colonel, you can’t really think I’d ever do anything to hurt Jake,” he stammered. “You saw Nog’s report on the shuttle I sold him—”
“Yes, I saw it. And lucky you, everything he found cleared you of any culpability for Jake’s disappearance. But I’m more interested in what he may nothave found.”
“Really, Colonel, I was only trying to help your mood just now—”
“Twisting your ears off would help my mood. Are you volunteering? No? Then shut the hell up!” Shoving him out of her way, Kira stormed past him toward the turbolift, then stopped. “One more thing, Quark. If I ever find out that what happened to Jake was the result of your negligence, there won’t be a hole deep enough or dark enough for you to hide in. Are we clear?”
Quark frowned. “Crystal, Colonel,” he said quietly.
Following Thriss’s release from station security, Dizhei was relieved to see her rhythms return to normal. She seemed to enjoy the reception, though she was moved to tears by the message left by the late artist. The following day she ate meals with Dizhei and Anichent, something she’d stopped doing in recent weeks. She sent out several applications for available medical residencies and she was sleeping regular hours—not too much or too little.