“Ladies,” Quark said, sliding the drink tray onto their table. “Thought I’d bring over a little theme drink I’ve concocted for the reception. See if you think the diplomatic corps will approve. I call it a Peace Treaty. Starts off provocative, ends on a smooth note.”

“Thanks, Quark,” Ro said, taking a drink from the tray and passing it to Natima before taking one for herself. Ro choked, barely avoiding spitting up. “A bit heavy on the syrup.”

Thoughtfully, Natima palmed the glass, swirling the liquid around and delicately smacked her lips as if to contemplate the drink’s overtones. “The sweet juxtaposes the fire of the whiskey nicely.”

“Sounds like the dealings between your governments could take awhile, eh, ladies?” Quark said, bussing empty appetizer dishes onto the drink tray. “Consensus can be hard to come by.”

“No, I think we’ve found consensus on many things,” Natima said, her sparkling eyes searching out Ro’s.

Taking her cue, Ro nodded in agreement. “Absolutely. I think Bajorans and Cardassians can find a lot of common ground.”

“Oh. I suppose that’s positive,” Quark said, glancing between the women. “So…”

“So…” Natima echoed.

He stood in front of the table, tapping his foot, waiting, and clearly hoping that one of his guests would say something. Ro felt no obligation to rescue Quark. His seeming inability to string together a snappy comeback was a rare enough occurrence to be novel to her. She contented herself with surveying the crowd; playing security chief for a minute or two couldn’t hurt anything. Besides, if anything was going to get out of hand tonight, she’d like advance notice. A large cluster of off-duty Starfleet personnel moved aside, giving her full view of Councillor zh’Thane accompanied by Shar’s bondmates. Now was as good a time as any to update zh’Thane’s party regarding her special request.

And let poor Quark off the hook.

“Quark, why don’t you have a seat? I have an early shift and some business to take care of,” Ro said, rising. “And put all this on my tab, would you? Ambassador, it’s been a delight.”

Lang raised her glass again as Ro stood up. “The pleasure was mine, Lieutenant.”

“We still have our evening together, Laren?” Quark said, a bit too loudly.

Lang covered her mouth with her hand, but not before a guffaw escaped.

Ro sighed. “Once everyone’s adjusted to the new security protocols and the reception is over, I’ll be able to make definite plans,” Ro explained, “But I think I’ll be ready to put in a holosuite reservation soon.” She gave Natima a little wink and headed off to meet with zh’Thane.

“Lieutenant Ro and I are exploring the possibility of a social relationship,” Quark said after she’d left.

“She mentioned that you two got along pretty well,” Natima said.

He watched Ro cross over to where the Andorian party—all four of them—waited for their holosuite. He’d heard rumors about some of the unique quirks of Andorian biology and was—intrigued?—by the commercial possibilities. “Hmmm. Now there’s a holoprogram I’m certain would be a big hit: ‘Andorian Ecstasy: Good Things Come In Fours.’ Never occurred to me before now, but it might have more wide-scale appeal than just for Andorians. Few people know about Andorians and how they, you know.” He grinned luridly. “Very hush-hush.”

Natima rolled her eyes. “And is it possible that they tend to be a private people precisely to avoid having their intimate relationships exploited by entrepreneurial Ferengi?”

“All sentients are motivated by the need to eat and the need to reproduce. It’s variety in both that keeps life interesting.”

“So you see yourself as the host at a buffet table of exotic delights of all shapes and sizes?”

“Precisely.”

“Quark, as much as the universe changes, you always somehow manage to stay the same.” Natima shook her head.

Quark stopped smiling and found himself staring deeply into her eyes. “Another thing that hasn’t changed is how much you mean to me, Natima.” Quark reached over, placing his hand over hers. “Every bit of news out of Cardassia, every report, I looked for your face—your name—hoping you were safe.”

“I have to confess even with everything that’s happened to my people in recent years, my thoughts have often traveled back here, because I was worried about you, too. I had a feeling you’d make it.”

“Takes more than a few wars to kill me off.”

“I believe that.”

Quark sighed. “I’m happy you’re here, Natima.”

She smiled, and placed her hand over his. “Me, too.”

Other than when she’d first admitted them to Shar’s quarters, Ro had never seen his bondmates all together. A pair might go shopping on the Promenade; from time to time she’d pass by one in the Habitat Ring, or while crossing over the various bridges to different levels of the station, but never in a group. She suspected they avoided it deliberately. Wherever they went people would talk simply because, to a person, they were striking.

The one sitting next to zh’Thane had an angular handsomeness he emphasized by wearing his hair pulled back tightly from his face. His choice of clothes—a shirt in a vivid hue of teal coupled with an ornately embroidered vest—reflected fashion sensibility Quark would appreciate. In the middle sat the bondmate Ro had met one day in the Replimat—a talkative, friendly individual, especially compared to Shar, who said little unless he was spoken to. Having explained that she was a teacher, she’d inquired about sitting in and observing the station’s classrooms and Ro had forgotten she’d promised to get back to her. Ro made a mental note to add that to her task list for the morning. If she had to guess, she’d pick the Andorian who sat, just a bit a part from the other two, as the “problem” zh’Thane had come to see her about.

Unlike the congenial stockiness of the chatty one who sat beside her, she had a lean, willowy look, emphasized by her choice to wear her long white hair straight and smooth. She must have sensed Ro’s scrutiny because suddenly Ro found herself facing a pair of piercing gray eyes.

“Lieutenant?” she said, her voice silvery toned.

“Umm. Yeah.” Ro grabbed an empty chair from a close-by table, placed it in front of the Andorians’ booth, threw a leg over and straddled it. “Yes. I apologize for interrupting your night out, but I’ve got good news regarding your trip.”

Her eyes narrowing on Ro, the willowy one said, “Trip? What trip?”

“Thriss,” zh’Thane warned.

Puzzled glances passed between the other two bondmates and Ro wondered if zh’Thane had told them about her request for an exemption. Maybe this was a mistake and I should have handled this one-on-one with the councillor.

Zh’Thane must have noticed their apprehension because she quickly said, “Remember we talked yesterday about the timetable for your return to Andor? I’m anxious to hear what you’ve learned, Lieutenant.”

Warily, Thriss watched Ro, her expression flinty.

Ignoring Thriss, Ro took her cue from the senior member of the group and proceeded. “Colonel Kira paged me a short time ago with her approval for your emergency departure exemption. Everything checks out—your ship, Councillor, will be free to leave the station on an ‘as needed’ basis.”

Confusion erupted.

“Dizhei, you discussed this with Zhadi?”one of the Andorians said, anxious. “I thought we’d decided to keep it to ourselves—”

“I thought after what happened this morning—”

“—believed you and Anichent were in agreement—”

Shathrissía kept silent, her eyes solemn. Ro saw her hands curl around the edge of the table, her breathing deepen.

“We can’t risk—”

“—room for last-minute—”

“Wait!” Ro said, bringing her palm down on the table, a little harder than she intended. At the sound, four pairs of eyes fixed on her.

“No one said you had specific plans. Your situation isn’t much different, except now you have the option of leaving on short notice without having to go through all the procedures required by a yellow-alert status.” She turned to zh’Thane. “I have the codes at my office. I’ll have them sent to your quarters, Councillor. Provide them to ops and you’ll be allowed to depart without question.”