“Sending the Wanderers away to colonies won’t solve our problem,” he argued. “We still can’t be together. Isn’t that why we joined the underground? To find a way we can be together?”
“Orchestrating terrorist attacks on aquaculture villages won’t solve our problems either,” she hissed. “Nor will trading eggs to the Cheka for weapons to use against the Houseborn. When the Cheka steal our offspring, you’re outraged. But now you sacrifice our young to our enemies?”
“We’ve sought to change our world since we were younglings. We vowed to do whatever was necessary, to make whatever sacrifice was required. This is the required sacrifice, Keren. These eggs aren’t ours. They belong to those who deny us our chance to have offspring. We owe them nothing.”
“This trade offers no hope for my people. Or for us,” Keren said.
Ezri listened as the argument volleyed back and forth, until Keren refused to respond to Jeshoh’s pleas. If only she’d anticipated this, she might have been able to work something into the treaty about the Houseborn-Wanderer taboos. Dangerous relationships were a Dax specialty,she thought wryly. Hadn’t she been willing to accept the consequence of reassociation to be with Lenara? The torrid, consuming kind of love—that kind of passion—prompted the most irrational behavior.
“Lieutenant,” Shar whispered. “I think I’ve got it.”
Dax turned and saw Shar’s antennae trembling with excitement. The boy will never be a poker player.“You’ve got what, Shar?”
“A preliminary genetic answer. But it will only help these two if Jeshoh can be convinced to forgo the trade.”
“Pass it over,” she ordered, taking the padd from Shar. Only a little of Jadzia’s scientific training had been in genetics, but she knew enough to interpret Shar’s data. He was absolutely correct: these findings were nothing short of astonishing.
Extrapolating the future path of genetic drift for both the Wanderers and the Houseborn, Shar’s models predicted that selective mutations in Wanderer DNA indicated that they, not the Houseborn, were the next step in Yrythny evolution. The creativity and cleverness that made them innovative artists and engineers coupled with their ability to adapt to the environment insured long-term survival.
On the other side, lacking the resilience of the Wanderers (and because of heavy interbreeding), Houseborn DNA would weaken over time, bringing on problems not unlike those now facing the Andorians. Over the generations, the Houseborn would become vulnerable to chromosomal maladies that would spell their end as a species.
The solution, ironically, was that intermating among Houseborn and Wanderers would create the genetic diversity the Yrythny species needed to survive. If present taboos and traditions continued—Wanderer sterilization, the Houseborn narrowing of the gene pool, Wanderer females not being allowed to reproduce—the Yrythny would spiral toward exinction. In fact, a reasonable conclusion was that the “Wanderer traits” were appearing precisely in order to assure the Yrythny’s survival as a species.
“This is incredible, Shar,” Ezri whispered.
Shar nodded his head, appearing very pleased.
A sensor went off on Ezri’s board. Saganwas rapidly approaching two much larger vessels. One seemed to be the Avaril.The other—
“The Cheka,” Keren moaned.
“You have to tell them,” Shar whispered to Ezri.
“Tell us what?” Jeshoh said.
“Shar’s research,” Ezri said, holding up the padd. “This is the answer you’ve been looking for.” Please let this be enough to put a stop to this insanity.
“Not offworld colonization, Lieutenant?” Jeshoh said, cynically, walking toward Ezri. “What about the magnificent compromise you negotiated with such skill among my fellow Assemblymen? Peace at last for Vanìmel! All the Wanderers have to do is leave.”
“It’s colonization, not exile!” Ezri insisted. “There are many cultures in my part of the galaxy where those unhappy with the status quo start over again somewhere else. Earth, Vulcan—” She stopped herself, knowing the names would be meaningless to Jeshoh. “The point is that colonization has often been the most viable solution to the kind of dilemma facing the Yrythny, and it’s alwaysbeen a better option than genocide.”
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself, Lieutenant?” Jeshoh asked. “If the former, then how is it that you now believe the answers we’ve been looking for are on that little device?”
Ezri sighed and shut her eyes. “Because even though colonization is a better option than genocide, thisis a better option than colonization.” Keying the padd to display the text in Yrythny, Ezri passed the padd to Jeshoh.
He perused the results, paging through each section of Shar’s research until he reached the end. Tossing the padd on the deck, he laughed. “You expect me to believe this? Days of discussions and analyses come up empty. But in our darkest hour, you hand me research that purports to offer me the very thing Keren and I have been fighting for? It’s a hoax. It has to be.”
Ezri bit her lip. “The lateness of the research is partially my fault. I wasn’t as supportive as I should have been in helping Ensign ch’Thane pursue his study.”
“So you say now, Lieutenant,” Jeshoh said.
“Persuade him, Ezri,” Shar urged.
“I appreciate your efforts, Shar,” Jeshoh said with a sigh. “Your heart is well aligned, but the Cheka are going to get their eggs, the blockade will end, the underground will receive arms, and the fight between the Houseborn and the Wanderers will finally be a fair one. Proceed to the rendezvous point.” He walked back to his seat, still tightly gripping the sidearm.
As the senior officer, Ezri knew devising a plan fell to her. She considered Shar and Jeshoh, who embodied the extremes of reason and emotion, and puzzled over this impasse. In lieu of a phaser, she could pull out a few Klingon martial arts moves that had worked on a belligerent drunk. Startle Jeshoh. Throw him off his game. But that was Jadzia. Tobin had done that thing with the transporter to defeat a Romulan. Clever enough, but Jeshoh would be dead. She had no desire to kill anyone unless she had no other choice. Torias would do some daredevil flying to throw off his enemy, but then Shar or Keren might be hurt. And…Emony…
Stop it.
Her head hurt. She massaged her neck against the headrest, wishing away the voices in her mind. Clamoring for attention, the voices talked over one another; she couldn’t think straight through the noise.
“Ezri, you’re a counselor,” Shar whispered anxiously. “Talk him out of it.”
She stared at Shar.
Through many lives, Dax had averted crises with clever talk, brilliant (occasionally crazy) technological twists, raw nerve, un hesitating bravery and a few well-placed punches. Of these tools, none were Ezri’s, save maybe the bravery. Ezri alone had studied the workings of the mind and it was Ezri who needed to fix this. Not Curzon. Not Lela. Not Jadzia. Ezri.
Licking her lips, she took a deep, controlled breath, willing her respirations to steady her. Ezri rolled her head back and forth, stretching her muscles. A class she’d taken on crisis negotiations—what was the procedure? Build a rapport between perpetrator and negotiator. Focus on the perpetrator’s needs. The time she’d spent with Jeshoh gave her a powerful advantage. Responsibility, loyalty and integrity motivated him. Appeal to those traits. She rose from her seat, resting one hand on each chair.
“Jeshoh, I know you’re concerned about reaching the rendezvous on time, but maybe we should take a moment, settle down. Eat? We missed dinner at Perian. The hour is late. I know I’m sleepy. Aren’t you a little hungry?”
He turned to Keren, “Are you hungry? Lieutenant Dax could bring you food.”
“Thirsty,” she conceded. “Something to drink.”