“Colonel Kira reviewed them some time ago, and to my knowledge, all the personal messages went out to individual databases.”

Thriss’ incessant finger drumming suddenly stopped; she eased back into the chair, molding her shoulders to the curved backrest. In contrast, Dizhei remained poised, her antennae soft and flexible.

Phillipa reached across the desk and rested her hand over Thriss’. “Is it possible to check with the colonel to see if there was any word from Ensign ch’Thane?” she said to Ensign Ling.

“The colonel has asked not to be disturbed except in an emergency, but I’ll relay your inquiry at the earliest opportunity.”

“Thanks. Matthias out.” Thriss shrunk before Phillipa’s eyes. She tucked her legs beneath her and dropped her head on the armrest. Were it not for her shallow, ragged breaths, Phillipa might have worried that she’d stopped breathing.

Phillipa tightened her grip on Thriss’ hand. “Don’t jump to conclusions, Thriss. There might be something embedded or included in Commander Vaughn’s datablock. Be patient. Colonel Kira has a lot to deal with right now.”

The two bondmates exchanged a rush of whispered Andorii; Dizhei did most of the talking, finally resting a possessive hand on Thriss’ knee. “Thriss has a shift with Dr. Girani. If you want to contact her, she’ll be there until late this afternoon. Shall we go, zh’yi?”

“Wait.” Phillipa looked between both Andorians, but directed her words at Dizhei since she believed Dizhei would need persuading. “Why doesn’t Thriss stay here for a few minutes? We can talk a bit, and then I’ll take her down to the infirmary.”

But Dizhei had left her chair and was guiding Thriss along with a hand placed in the small of her back before Phillipa had finished speaking. The decision had been made, though how much input Thriss had was questionable. Once more, Phillipa reiterated her offer for on-the-spot counseling, but Thriss shook her head weakly and waved a good-bye.

Absently twirling a lock of hair between her fingers, Phillipa sat in her chair staring at the words filling her desktop screen like white noise. She filtered the last fifteen minutes through years of academic and field training, plus a healthy dose of intuition.

Not one logical interpretation of the scene she’d witnessed reassured her; every extrapolation she worked through had negative connotations. So she resolved to sit there and spin every potentiality until she came up with a positive outcome. She turned off her desk screen. There had to be a positive outcome somewhere. There had to be. For Thriss’ sake. For all four of them.

Kira had no intention of calling ahead to warn Minister Asarem that she was on her way. She’d followed protocols and niceties until her mouth ached from trying to smile away her frustration. No more. The minister’s office door slid open obediently on her order. Sitting behind her desk studying a tome of Bajoran law, Asarem appeared legitimately shocked to see her. Kira relished the advantage of surprise for only a second before walking right up to the side of her chair. She didn’t want anything between them when she had this conversation.

“I don’t recall that we had a meeting, Colonel,” Asarem said, turning her chair toward Kira and offering a serene smile.

Good recovery.“We didn’t. I let myself in.”

“So I noticed,” she said dryly.

“One of the few fringe benefits of being in command around here: there’s no place on this station where I can’t find you.” After her conversation outside the conference room, she’d had the computer track Asarem’s every move on the station.

Asarem tipped back in her chair, throwing her legs out in front of her as if she were stretching post-nap. “Manners and civil liberties never figure into your games of hide and seek?”

“Don’t be clever with me, Asarem,” Kira snipped. “We’re both old hands at this. We can trade barbs and witticisms until we’re hoarse, or we can have an honest discussion.”

“I have nothing to discuss with you,” she said dismissively. She snapped a law book closed and shoved it back on a shelf behind her desk where other old-fashioned volumes were stored. Thumbing a switch, Asarem made a show of pulling up her schedule. “I have state business to attend to, Colonel.”

“Oh, I don’t believe you do.” Kira reached across Asarem’s desk and turned off the desk screen. “Just what the hell were you thinking when you shut down the talks today? What’s all this about waiting for Bajor to adopt the Federation’s treaties with Cardassia?”

“It’s a logical move,” Asarem said, shoving Kira’s arm off her desk. “Transitioning an entire planetary system into a completely new governmental form involves a lot more than making sure there aren’t hurt feelings between neighbors.”

Kira clenched her fists. She so wanted to punch something, but her hothead days were behind her. Keep a steady course…“This thing between us and Cardassia—this is our issue to resolve, not the Federation’s. Passing it off for them to handle is cowardly.”

“I resent that characterization.” Asarem left her desk and exited down a private corridor.

Kira followed. She wished she could tie Asarem to a chair and force her to see reason, a tactic that worked effectively in the Resistance, but might earn her a court martial if she employed it here. No, she had to play by the minister’s rules.

Asarem spoke to Kira as she walked. “Waiting to take on something of the magnitude of normalizing Bajoran/Cardassian relations until after the Federation is pragmatic. Why make promises we might not be able to keep once the Federation is in charge? Why duplicate efforts? We need to use our time to help Bajor.” She turned into a side room, likely a records office. Pulling a stool out from beneath a desk, Asarem climbed atop it and started browsing the countless rows of padds, books, and scrolls.

Kira hopped up on the counter closest to where Asarem stood. “Bajor will never heal until we deal with the mistrust festering between us and Cardassia. We’ll come into the Federation weak. We’ll be hiding behind our mother’s skirts.”

“You’re free to assume what you want, Colonel, but the decision is made.” She removed a scroll and jumped off the stool. “It’s not negotiable.”

How could Asarem treat Bajor/Cardassia relations with the same indifferent concern that one might reserve for street signage? Kira grabbed Asarem by the shoulder. “This is wrong!”

With a swift elbow shove, the minister dislodged Kira’s grip. She spun around, eyes blazing. “How dareyou! You have no idea what this is about.”

“I don’t? Because it’s pretty damn obvious what’s happening here!” Kira shouted.

“You think you know it all,” Asarem said through gritted teeth. She stepped closer to Kira. “You’ve always been that way. So self righteous. Well this time, you’re not even close.” Turning on her heel, she half walked, half ran from the records room. Shoulder to shoulder, the women raced down the hall, surprised aides ducking out of the way right and left.

“If you do, as you claim, have Bajor’s best interests at heart,” Kira said, “then you and I want the same things. But from where I’m standing you and I couldn’t be on more opposite sides.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Kira.” She laughed bitterly. “The irony of all this is that you and I are on exactly the same side down to the last detail.”

Kira halted in her tracks, wondering if in her anger she’d missed something Asarem had said previously, because she believed she’d just heard Asarem say that they were on the same side. How could that be? None of this makes sense.She knew what she’d seen during the talks, what she’d read in the transcripts.

Seeing the puzzled expression on Kira’s face, Asarem laughed again. “You should see yourself, Kira. It’s almost worth putting up with your attitude to see how confused you look right now.” Asarem grabbed Kira by the elbow and dragged her into the closest vacant room. When she was assured they were alone, she explained, “Yes, Colonel. It’s true. I want peace with Cardassia. I came to these talks prepared to negotiate—to give probably more than Ambassador Lang would ask for. And you know why I didn’t? Because I was ordered not to.”