All in all, a workable plan,he thought, and left his observation post to set the gears in motion.

“File these,” Lieutenant Dax ordered, offloading a shoulder bag and passing it to Shar as they walked down a winding streetway in one of Luthia’s upscale residential districts.

Taking the bag, Shar studied his commanding officer quizzically. What exactly was it he was filing, where was he supposed to file it, and how was it, after four years at Starfleet Academy where he’d won a shelf full of awards, published several well-received articles and graduated with honors, he was filing at all? Mostly he was unsure how moving padds, tomes and isolinear chips from conference room to conference room would help resolve Yrythny civil unrest. “Yes, sir,” he said neutrally. “Is there anything else you need?”

Lieutenant Dax seemed not to notice his uncertainty. She’d hardly looked at him this morning. Earlier, she’d walked past him to her desktop terminal, pulled up her daily meeting schedule, and brewed a hot seaweed tea before saying “hello.” Not that her preoccupation wasn’t understandable: the Yrythny committees she worked with had a tendency to change their minds almost hourly.

“Breaking down the historical precedents for establishing Wanderer rights—” she said, “—have you written the summaries yet?” Dax absently waved to an Assembly official Shar remembered meeting during yesterday’s padd and data shuffling. Attended by servants and clerks, the official cocked his head in their direction, looked down at his hand, clearly wondering what Ezri meant by wiggling her hand in the air.

“They’re in your database, filed under ‘representation issues,’” Shar answered. “Delegate Keren signed off on them late last night. She will join us at the Aquaria.”

“With Vice Chair Jeshoh following shortly after, I suppose?” Ezri said, rolling her eyes.

“Yes, sir.” The morning argument between Jeshoh and Keren had become part of the daily routine. Keren would arrive with her agenda; Jeshoh would arrive with his and the two would quarrel until the next meeting. Whenever they entered the room, Shar’s antennae tingled with the kinetic energy they exuded. He found them more stimulating than most of their colleagues.

Dax suddenly stopped. “Let’s eat. Once the Assembly members start arriving, they’ll keep us talking nonstop.”

Chasing after her, Shar cut in front of a pushcart loaded with bushy, orange flora, past several apartment courtyards to a merchant window where a line of Yrythny waited for shmshucheese and leaberry pastries. Ezri ordered one for each of them, using her Assembly meal card to pay the vendor. She took a few bites and crooked her finger at Shar, pointing them in the direction of a crescent-shaped bench. Between nibbles, Shar determined the time had arrived to present a suggestion to Dax.

“Lieutenant,” Shar said, hoping he looked authoritative, but respectful; he strove to avoid the just-beneath-the-surface insolence that his zhaveyaccused him of when he was determined to make his point. Insincerity would not help his case with Dax. “I have a request.”

Without interrupting her breakfast, she mumbled something about his continuing, put down her pastry, made a notation in her padd, and returned to her eating.

Maybe while she’s distracted, she might agree without thinking too hard about it…“Sir, while I agree that an understanding of historical and social precedents provides context for your work with the committees, I think we’re neglecting a critical area of research.”

“Go on.” She dabbed at the corners of her mouth.

“The Yrythny conflict is based on the supposition that the Wanderers are biologically inferior to the Houseborn,” Shar struggled to keep the excitement out of his voice. “But what if the Houseborn supposition is wrong and we can prove it scientifically?”

“That the inequities between Houseborn and Wanderer biological programming are perceived, rather than actual? My guess is that it’s mostly perception,” Ezri agreed, throwing her legs out in front of her. “At least I haven’t noticed much difference between the groups I’ve been working with. I think they’ve built a complex social culture of castes and customs based on suppositions and preconceptions, regardless of any basis in actual fact.” Dax wadded up her paper refuse and held it in her fist. Looking at Shar, she smiled indulgently. “Perception is nine-tenths of reality, and in the perceptions of the Houseborn, the Wanderers are inferior. I doubt scientific proof would change that perception. Besides, sometimes even the most absurd traditions and customs evolve as a way to preserve a species or protect a planet.”

Shar agreed with Ezri in principle, though he didn’t say so. Over the years, he’d learned from Charivretha how the seemingly illogical customs of many worlds had legitimate roots. For example, many religious dietary codes emerged from pragmatic realities. How avoiding a forbidden food because it would make one “un-holy” before the divinity sounded more meaningful than saying it was forbidden because it would make the follower hallucinate, foam at the mouth and die. Still, not all customs and codes were so well intended. Prejudice and fear still allowed for cultures to rationalize bad policy. From his own studies, Shar had discovered that the Wanderers had emerged as the artisans, architects, and scientists among the Yrythny. The Houseborn’s insistence that the Wanderers “lacked proper instincts” wasn’t logical in the face of such clear, measurable evidence of superior intellectual abilities. He was surprised Dax didn’t raise the point herself. “In most circumstances, a species is better protected by developing a quantifiable strategy,” Shar reasoned. “Such as resource management or environmental restoration.”

“Since the Yrythny didn’t evolve naturally, it’s possible that whoever augmented Vanìmel’s primordial soup intended these instincts to play out.” She shrugged. “Maybe there are chromosomal mutations or weaknesses in the helices.”

“Maybe there aren’t,” Shar argued.

“For example,” Ezri went on, “what would happen if every Yrythny were allowed to reproduce? Could the planet sustain that kind of population explosion?”

“It may not,” Shar conceded. “On the other hand, perhaps it can. I’ve seen no evidence that anyone has yet attempted to answer the question. But even if it can’t, science might solve that problem, too.”

Ezri sighed. “Maybe these social customs, as repulsive as they may seem to us, serve a purpose not immediately obvious to the outsider. That’s why examining their history is crucial. Tracing the origins of this social order might help them course-correct. If you pull out a weed without killing the root, the weed will grow back.”

“Yes, sir,” Shar said. He set down his pastry, his appetite withering.

“You should know something of restrictive social customs and how they relate to physiological and biological realities from your own experiences.”

Shar looked away uncomfortably. He knew that over the course of Dax’s eight previous lives, knowledge about Andorians that was unknown to the majority of outsiders had entered into Dax’s purview. How much knowledge and how explicit that knowledge was, he couldn’t say. Shar hadn’t yet probed Ezri’s recollections or allowed her to probe his, but he did know Dax wasn’t speaking carelessly. He considered what she had said for a moment longer before responding. “But it’s my opinion, Lieutenant, after years of studying the interrelationship between sociology and physiology among my people, that it is the rigid structure of our customs that have, in part, landed my species in the predicament it now faces.”

“You’re saying that the Yrythny adherence to a rigid caste system might be leading them to a similar fate as the Andorians?” Lieutenant Dax said, skeptically.

“I am saying I believe we need to ask the scientific questions in addition to the historical and cultural questions.” Shar knew he could prove it to her, given the chance.