Easing back into the captain’s chair, Vaughn sighed heavily. He studied the screen for a moment, watching the panicked, herky-jerky movements of the aliens. The image summoned an unbidden recollection of a comical children’s holovid he had seen during his youth.

“I can’t raise the Sagan,Captain,” Tenmei said, breaking his brief reverie. “In fact, I’m getting no signal from the shuttle at all.”

Comedy was suddenly the furthest thing from Vaughn’s mind.

3

Colonel Kira Nerys had hoped to wend her way through the Promenade without being noticed. She had only been back from visiting Bajor—and Kasidy Yates—for a short time, and she felt certain that she would find every trauma in the quadrant metaphorically stacked on her desk when she reached her office. Thus, when she heard the clipped and slightly reptilian voice calling her name, she had to muster her resolve not to ignore it.

“Colonel Kira, may I have a moment?” the Cardassian said, catching up to her.

“Certainly, Gul Macet. What do you need?” Kira felt a surge of relief at the prospect of being reprieved from her office backlog, however briefly. She smiled; it was gradually getting easier to do that around Macet, though the fact that he was a virtual double of Gul Skrain Dukat—visually, if not morally—still made any sort of exchange of pleasantries a bit tense.

“I wanted to revisit our previous discussion regarding the Cardassia–Bajor peace talks. It’s been two weeks now since the negotiations stalled. Two weeks since I had to ferry Ambassador Lang back to Cardassia Prime empty-handed.”

This wasn’t news to Kira, though she found it hard to believe that two weeks could have passed so quickly.

Nodding, she said, “Yet you’re back here, even without the ambassador.”

“To do whatever I can to hasten the time when she and our other official representatives might be invited back to the bargaining table. I have waited patiently while you have—I presume—applied pressure on the Chamber of Ministers to bring this about. But how much longer must I wait, Colonel? How much longer must my peoplewait?” Macet opened his eyes wide, a nonverbal signal that, Kira had learned, was common to Cardassians who had just said something provocative and expected a response.

Kira wasn’t at all surprised by Macet’s question, nor by his obviously mounting impatience. Shortly after Second Minister Asarem Wadeen had taken a hard line with newly appointed Cardassian ambassador Natima Lang during the last round of peace talks—thereby causing their collapse—Macet had asked her to weigh in on the matter with First Minister Shakaar Edon, using whatever political pull she could muster.

What a joke,Kira thought. She was well aware that the problem of Bajor’s intransigence extended all the way to the highest levels; culpability for the failure of the talks lay not with Asarem, but with First Minister Shakaar himself. This, of course, wasn’t something she could reveal to Macet, no matter how much she had come to trust him of late.

Macet cleared his throat. “Well?”

Kira sighed, her smile collapsing as she shook her head. “I’m afraid we may have to resign ourselves to waiting a while longer.”

“A while,” Macet repeated, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“A very brief while, if that’s any consolation.”

“Ah. AfterBajor officially enters the Federation, you mean. The talks will resume, but only after the Federation takes responsibility for them.”

A hard lump formed in Kira’s throat. She didn’t like this any more than Macet did. “I’m afraid so,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper.

Macet was silent for a long moment. Finally, he said, “I am very disappointed to hear you say that, Colonel. Especially given your renowned influence over your world’s leaders, both secular and religious.”

“You’re still giving me too much credit, Macet,” she said, shaking her head yet again. “You know what it means for a Bajoran to be Attainted. Even the secular authorities don’t have much use for someone who’s been cast out of the faith.”

Macet smiled as though hoping to offer encouragement. “Ah, faith. You have no shortage of that, Colonel. It is as abundant as your humility. The kind of personalfaith you possess can move entire worlds.”

Kira couldn’t restrain a bitter chuckle. “Worlds are one thing. Ministers are different beasts entirely.” Especially Shakaar,she thought.

Seeing Macet’s sour expression, Kira continued. “Look, I know how much you need closure on a Bajor–Cardassia peace treaty beforethe Federation begins running Bajor’s diplomatic efforts. I feel the same way.”

“It’s the only path that leads to an honest rapprochement,” Macet said, looking thoughtful. His features took on a vaguely menacing cast as he added, “and to a permanentpeace.”

Shaking off mental images of belligerent, paranoid, future Cardassians someday returning in force to menace her homeworld, Kira nodded. “You’ll get no argument from me, Macet. But the first and second ministers don’t appear to see the matter with the same urgency we do. They’re perfectly content to wait a few months.”

Macet stared across the Promenade into the star-spangled darkness visible through the large upper-tier windows. His face slackened and his eyes grew pained. “I don’t need to tell you how desperate things are back on Cardassia Prime. How many people are still homeless. How many children are still starving and disease ravaged. Those who weren’t killed wholesale during the last hours of the war, that is.”

Thoughts of Cardassia’s suffering children brought to mind painful recollections of the late Tora Ziyal, whose recovered artworks Ambassador Lang had brought to Bajor as a gesture of peace—a gesture that Shakaar had effectively rebuffed, through Asarem. Her paintings and drawings, of exquisite beauty and poignant expressivity, had gone on display in Elim Garak’s former tailor shop—where some faceless, Cardassian-hating vandal had despoiled many of them.

Macet continued: “It’s ironic, really. For as long as I can remember, we Cardassians had always regarded ourselves as more advanced than you Bajorans. We had believed ourselves to be more sophisticated intellectually, culturally, politically—by any measure we could conceive. Now, after all we’ve been through—after the great price the Dominion War has levied against Cardassia for its sins—Bajor is exacting its revenge not through war, but through petty politics. Your ministers are not just keeping our worlds from attaining a true and lasting peace. They may also be confirming some of Cardassia’s oldest and ugliest prejudices. Good day, Colonel.” And before Kira could say a word, Macet strode away toward the Promenade’s busy center.

He’s right,she thought. As she resumed walking toward her office, a great upwelling of sadness spread through her soul. If professional diplomats can’t find common ground, then what hope is there for the rest of us?

She was nearing the turbolift to ops when two Bajorans—an older woman and a younger man—approached her. Both were hooded, though not exactly in the style of her world’s clerics or worshipers. She steeled herself for what was to come. Ever since she had released the prophecies of Ohalu onto the Bajoran civilian comnet, and had been Attainted by Vedek Yevir Linjarin, her interactions with most Bajorans had been frosty at best.

“Colonel Kira,” the younger man said. “May we have a moment of your time?”