“Colonel, please join us,” Ambassador Lang said, opening her arms.

Kira took a spot beside Lang. “What’s going on? I thought you all would be in the conference room. I’d heard opening statements were scheduled to begin an hour ago and—”

Macet interrupted her. “Minister Asarem announced that Bajor would be withdrawing from any diplomatic proceedings until after completing its probationary period for joining the Federation.”

A mountaintop avalanche inundating her path might have shocked Kira as much as Macet’s revelation. Maybe she was still asleep. Maybe this was some stress-induced bad dream…“What? That’s not how things were supposed to go. At least, Minister Shakaar never said anything about postponing the talks. I thought Minister Asarem would take a more open approach, not shut things down altogether.” Her head spun with the implications of Macet’s words.

“Apparently, Minister Asarem believes that binding Bajor to a path independent of the one Bajor is forging with the Federation is a waste of time,” Lang explained patiently, whatever shock she might have felt gradually giving way to the sadness brimming in her eyes. “Existing treaties between the Federation and Cardassia will apply equally with Bajor—there’s no need to negotiate something separately.”

This is ludicrous!Kira refused to accept this turn of events. “You’ve talked to First Minister Shakaar, Ambassador? He can’t have signed off on this.” She scanned the lobby, peered down the hall, hoping to see evidence of a Bajoran presence, but found none. Cowards turned tail and ran.

Sullen-faced, Lang said, “I’m told Minister Shakaar is currently unavailable.”

Kira took a deep breath and started pacing. “All right. Let’s say, just for the sake of argument, that Asarem’s position really is what’s best for Bajor. Why notwait until after the transition to settle this—why now? Why push it?”

“Ironically, our situation isn’t unlike Bajor’s was seven years ago,” Lang replied. “The allies govern our territories while Cardassia Prime struggles to rebuild and redefine itself. A single epidemic and what remains of our civilization could be brought to its knees.

“We can’t rebuild without outside help, we can’t secure outside help unless we prove we can be trusted. If we fail to obtain the assistance we need, our world will revert to the same principles that led to our downfall. We are fated to repeat history unless we can prove we can move beyond the place where Cardassia began to go terribly wrong—and that’s with the Bajoran Occupation. If we can start again with new Cardassia forging ties with new Bajor, my people stand a chance.”

And the only way my people stand a chance, for all the same reasons.“I’ll do what I can,” Kira said, intending to go straight to the minister’s office and demand to be seen or block Asarem’s door way until she agreed to see her. Kira tolerated the vagaries of politics because she understood that government’s rigidly defined rules and protocols had to be navigated somehow, but this kind of game playing didn’t serve anyone. She shot off down the hallway, back toward the security checkpoint.

“Colonel, we don’t expect you—” Lang began, walking after her.

Kira stopped. “No, I know you don’t expect it, I expect it of myself. Asking another generation to fix this is wrong—for both sides.” In her gut, Kira knew she spoke truth. Her mind was clear, she believed the Prophets guided her. “This ends here. This thing between us will end now.”

After a brunch stop, Phillipa had come into her office to find that Dr. Girani had left a list of individuals he was recommending for anger management counseling. She’d encountered a few of the more surly characters during her time helping out the previous night so she had expected some referrals, but this many? If she followed standard Starfleet protocol for anger management therapy, she’d have half her daily appointment schedule filled with Girani’s recommendations alone. But because there were disciplinary and incarceration issues pending, Phillipa recognized how vital her services were. What she wouldn’t give for the odd, criminally insane schizophrenic or even marriage counseling to provide a little diversity. She sighed and ordered the computer to search the database for all the latest research on anger control issues. Maybe there was something new and exciting she could use to throw a new spin on her therapy sessions. She’d just reached the good part of “Guided Imagery and Brain Chemistry,” about the effectiveness of role playing in holographic scenarios, when a chime notified her that she had visitors. Knowing that she didn’t have any appointments scheduled until after alpha shift, she ordered the door open, hoping yet another crisis hadn’t erupted.

Hand in hand with Dizhei, Thriss entered. Phillipa smiled reflexively. Thriss had progressed from small, subtle steps like remembering her appointments without reminders and choosing to eat breakfast with her bondmates to more noticeable moves forward such as pride in her physical appearance. No longer dull and listless, her straight white hair, interspersed with small braids, shimmered. She chose elegant, attractive clothing instead of rumpled, careworn caftans and smocks. When she walked, she took long, purposeful strides instead of allowing Dizhei or Anichent to pull her along. Her antennae relaxed, responding to pleasure, not just anger. Some excellent progress with this patient and we started after she instigated a fight at Quark’s. I can only hope I have such good luck with the other night’s rioters,she thought.

“I know I don’t have an appointment,” Thriss began apologetically.

Dizhei maintained a placid demeanor, smiling indulgently at her bondmate’s earnestness. Phillipa had discovered that while Thriss tended to be emotionally obvious, Dizhei was the opposite. Yes, she was sweet-natured, always talkative, eagerly discussing her bondmates, but more reticent about herself. But from time to time when Thriss began rhapsodizing about Shar, Phillipa observed that Dizhei’s smile tightened noticeably. There’s obviously subtext here…I need to get her in for a session. She has the too-bright smile on now. Interesting.

“Don’t worry about it. Have a seat,” Phillipa gestured for her Andorian guests to make themselves comfortable in the visitors’ chairs or the therapist’s couch facing her. Thriss hadn’t been sitting a minute before she started wiggling her foot, twisting it around the chair leg. Whatever it is, she certainly is anxious today.

“This isn’t really about therapy either,” Thriss said. “I probably shouldn’t be here, but I didn’t know who else to ask and—”

Phillipa shushed her. “Ask.”

Thriss exchanged looks with Dizhei and took a deep breath. “I heard a rumor that ops downloaded communications from the Defianttoday, but with all the problems last night, no one has the time or inclination to check. Councellor zh’Thane is away with Admiral Akaar on Bajor so she can’t ask.”

“You want Shar’s letter,” Phillipa grinned. “No problem.” She tapped a few commands into the computer, entered her authorization codes and was able to ascertain from the communications logs that indeed, a Gamma Quadrant transmission had been received an hour before. “It’s here, but it’s above my clearance level. Colonel Kira has to review and disperse the information, but I could check and see when that might happen.”

“Would you?” Thriss scooted to the edge of her chair expectantly, placing her hands, palm down on the desk and drumming her fingers. “I don’t want to cause problems.”

“Relax. It’ll be fine.” Phillipa touched her combadge, “Counselor Matthias to ops.”

“This is Ling. Go ahead.”

“I have Shathrissía zh’Cheen, Ensign ch’Thane’s bondmate, in my office. I was wondering when the communiqués from the Defiantwould be distributed?”