Ro placed a padd on the cleared spot on the bar and began to take notes. “Other than your astute, upbeat analysis of Bajoran/Cardassian relations, any specific things you might remember—you know, clues that might help us toss some hotheads in the brig—assign some accountability?”
“Not offhand, no. But speaking of accountability, who’s going to pay for this disaster? Because there’s no way that this is my fault.” Quark threw open his arms, indicating the expanse of his establishment. “And the lost revenues! We’re not going to be cleaned up in time for alpha shift. This is an outrage. I demand to speak to Colonel Kira and Gul Macet!” Continuing to prattle on, Quark walked from one end of the room to the other, interspersing diatribes with his cleanup efforts. He tried to impress upon Ro the gravity of every scratched chair and crumb-covered table.
Ro massaged her ridges with the tips of her fingers. High noise, low signal,she thought, hoping he might deign to throw in a few useful facts between his explanation of thread counts and his assertion that he’d never known a Cardassian to complain about kanarjust past the “use by” date. Not surprisingly, he unequivocally denied any culpability for Cardassians put in sour moods after partaking of bad liquor.
A couple of hours later, Kira believed they were on the downside of arrests, medical treatments and cleanup. The Promenade wouldn’t be ready by the start of the business day, and morning Temple services would also be cancelled. Still awaiting her was the unpleasant task of rousing Shakaar with the update of the night’s goings-on. He wouldn’t be pleased.
Starting toward ops, she glimpsed Macet on the opposite platform, herding the last of his shackled men toward a turbolift. She stopped to watch him, presuming that he likely felt the same exhaustion she did. He must have sensed her because he stopped to meet her gaze. Their eyes linked only long enough for a mutual understanding to pass between them. Turning away, he barked orders to those assisting him and disappeared from her sight.
When she was satisfied he was gone, Kira said quietly, “You can deshroud now.”
Taran’atar shimmered into visibility beside her. “Colonel?”
“Maintaining surveillance on Gul Macet will no longer be necessary,” Kira said, still staring after the departed Cardassian.
“I concur,” the Jem’Hadar said. “Will there be anything else?”
Kira considered the question. “What do you think of him?” she asked finally.
Taran’atar hesitated. “He isn’t what I expected.”
Kira nodded. “I know exactly what you mean.”
17
Water-light reflected in lazy loops on the rust sandstone walls, disrupted by stones skimming the surface. Rippling rings emerged as the rock fell to the streambed with a hollow plop, a prelude to the storm rumbling in the distance. The air crackled, anticipating release.
Crouched low to the ground, Shar scooped up a handful of gravel and rocks, sifting it through his fingers, fishing out the smooth flat stones, tossing aside the dross. He skipped one across the stream and another, losing himself in the rhythm of the mindless task.
“The rules of conduct are not negotiable,” the headmaster had
explained patiently in a tone he’d use for an idiot. “You are not an exception.”
He skipped another stone.
Her antennae rigid with barely contained fury,zhavey had bellowed,“Tezha is reserved for theshelthreth! Don’t tempt fate, Thirishar!” He’d protested his innocence, but she refused his explanations.
He scratched through the damp sand for another stone, willing away their chastisements. Gradually, the voices ofzhavey and the headmaster twisted and twined into the low moans of the growing wind. A gust shaved dry needles off spindly conifers, flipped dry leaves onto their backs. Shar pulled his tunic closer to him to stave off the chill. He shivered.
And then he sensed her.
Without hearing her bare feet sending pebbles skittering up the path or seeing the sheen of perspiration damp on her arms and face, he knew she stood behind him, watching. She always watched him and he hated her for it. He could be standing across the hallway or tucked in a window seat reading and her eyes would always find him. When he felt her closeness, his throat tightened as the air became unbearably dry.
“What are you doing here?” he said disdainfully, willing his thudding heart to steady. He refused to look at her. Attention would only encourage her. She’d been impossible yesterday, following him out into the hills, an act that had led to them both ending up in the headmaster’s office to receive official notations on their records.
“That’s a fine hello, Thirishar,” she sniffed, tossing her hair.
That hair of hers, Shar thought, annoyed.That ridiculous fine, straight hair, soft like spun silk thread when she brushed against him… “If I’d wanted you here, I would have invited you. Of course, that didn’t stop you yesterday when you invited yourself along on my research trip. I neglected to thank you for that, by the way. I’ve been given a failing grade on the project.”
“Rules say you aren’t supposed to go alone.” She circled closer.
He picked through the dirt. “Rules say you’re not supposed to go alone with a bondmate.”
“You would have ended up half-frozen if I hadn’t been there.”
“If you hadn’t been there, I might not have gotten lost!”
“And to think I came up here to apologize!”
Shar snorted. “Your apologies won’t help me pass environmental studies.” Reluctantly, he tore his eyes from the ground and looked at her, radiant in the bruised, colored half-light, gauzy skirt flapping in the wind. She granted him only a momentary glance of her gray eyes.
“Fine then.” Thriss threaded her arms across her chest and jumped up onto a boulder sitting beside the spring. She began crossing to the opposite side, jumping sprightly from rock to rock with balletic grace. Her shimmering hair, blown by the wind, strayed across her face and she threw back her head, gazing up at the darkening sky. She closed her eyes, slightly arching her back and threw open her arms, embracing the imminent storm.
Shar watched the gentle rise and fall of her breathing. He swallowed hard and looked away.
A shadow crossed over. A violent clap of thunder announced the storm. Raindrops pelted the earth, sending up clouds of pink dust from the pathway. The stony metallic scent of rain on hot canyon rock drenched the air.
Thriss laughed, cupping her palms to capture the rain.
“Get down from there!” Shar ordered.
“Why should I?”
“Because you’ll be soaked, that’s why and I refuse to accept the blame when you come down with a raging case ofzhem!” Sloshing across the stream, he tamped down the impulse to yell. A loss of control would only exacerbate this situation. He refused to yield the upper hand to petulant Thriss because that was precisely what she wanted. Reaching for her wrists, he encircled them with his thumb and forefinger. He tugged gently; she might be equal to him in height, but he was stronger than she.
Refusing to budge, she said, “You come up here.” Her eyes danced playfully.
“Thriss—!” he warned loudly, his voice muted by the rain’s plip-plop chatter.
“I think you’ll find the view is quite lovely from here.”
He followed her gaze to the billowing dark clouds, backlit by flashes of lightning. A stray bolt leapt out, igniting dry scrub growing in canyon rock crevices. Flames greedily devoured the parched wood, leaving behind steaming, charred carcasses.