“I see,” Kira said, not pleased to have been left unaware until now of the change in Starfleet’s plans. “I typically get some notice of these things.”

“I am giving you notice now,” Akaar said. Although his voice remained level, Kira detected a note of antipathy toward her that she did not understand. In the past, she had experienced few difficulties with members of Starfleet Command, who had always shown confidence in her abilities to command DS9—

Except for one person, she suddenly remembered. It must have been six weeks ago, back when the first minister had been returning from a monthlong trip to various Federation worlds. Shakaar had warned her of an admiral who had been championing a reversion to the station’s former hierarchy, with a Starfleet captain installed in the top spot. The possibility that the unnamed admiral had been Akaar occurred now to Kira. If that turned out to be the case, she would not allow his presence here to threaten her. Although she had been in command of Deep Space 9 for only four months, she had served in the position well, and she had every intention of continuing to do so.

“Thank you, Admiral. I’ll note the change for my crew,” Kira said, determined to maintain an even bearing. During her tenure as the station’s first officer, she had learned to better control her impulses, to think twice before acting. Now, as DS9’s commanding officer, she had been further pressed to hone her diplomatic skills.

“Colonel,” Akaar said, “I would like you to detail for me the evacuation of the Europani to Bajor.”

“Almost three million people have been brought here from Europa Nova,” Kira said, “and Defiantis scheduled back in a few days, accompanying the last of the convoys from Torona IV.”

“Yes,” Akaar said, but the word seemed less an agreement than merely a placeholder, a word to fill the time and segue to the next subject. “How are the Europani being housed on Bajor?”

The question surprised Kira. The information Akaar was seeking had nothing to do with either Deep Space 9 or Starfleet. “I’m not sure what you’re asking, Admiral, but I received a report just yesterday that the refugees have been divided up into groups—large groups—and taken to several dozen cities.”

“Where are the Europani staying?” Akaar persisted.

“In hospitals, some of them, obviously,” Kira said, not really knowing the precise answer to the question, but making logical assumptions. “In schools, government facilities, inns. Perhaps even in private residences.”

“And the Europani on the station,” the admiral asked, “why have they not gone on to Bajor?” Akaar’s voice held a neutral intonation, but his words seemed to carry an implicit criticism.

“Some of the smaller vessels in the evacuation came directly to the station…Bajor’s orbit got a bit crowded for a while. It was faster for some of the refugees to disembark here. And for those who’d suffered radiation poisoning, we were able to treat them. Since we have the facilities, I saw no problem with that.” Kira realized that her last statement might have sounded defensive, as though she were attempting to support her decision to allow thousands of the refugees to remain on DS9. She brushed the characterization aside. “We’re functioning close to capacity right now,” she went on, “but the station is in good shape.”

“Do you know how the Europani on Bajor are being fed?”

Again, the admiral seemed to be asking for information well outside Kira’s purview. She turned her chair away from the table and toward the inner wall of the conference room. “I can have one of my officers in ops upload whatever data we have about the Europani operations on Bajor.” She pointed to the viewscreen set into the wall, then tapped her combadge. “Kira to Ensign Ling.”

“Ling here. Go ahead, Colonel.”

“Ensign,” Kira said, “I’d like you to aggregate all of the information—”

“Colonel.” Akaar raised his hand, the flat of his palm toward her, a clear signal that he wanted her to stop what she was doing.

“Stand by, Ling,” Kira said, then closed the channel with another touch to her combadge. “Admiral?”

“Colonel, I have already seen the data you have available on the Europani situation. I do not need to see it again.”

An angry response rose in Kira’s mind— Then why are you wasting my time?—but she controlled her impulse to shout it across the table at Akaar. Instead, she stood from the chair and activated her combadge once more. “Kira to Ling.”

“Ling here, Colonel.”

“Belay my last order. Out.” Kira ended the communication without waiting for a response. She looked over at Akaar, who remained seated and very still. “If you don’t mind, Admiral,” she said, barely able to contain her annoyance, “I have duties to tend to.” She started for the door.

“Colonel.” Kira stopped, the double doors sliding open before her with a soft whoosh. She turned back to face Akaar. “Colonel,” he went on, “I am interested in what you have to say about the Europani rescue and resettlement operations. Raw data and reports have their places, but I wish to hear from you.”

The words bordered on flattery, intimating that he held Kira’s opinions in some regard, but she put no trust in them. Nevertheless, she chose to honor Akaar’s request. She walked back over to the table, the doors to the conference room sliding shut behind her with a whisper. “What would you like me to tell you, Admiral?” she asked as she sat back down.

For forty-five minutes, Kira responded to Akaar’s questions about the rescue and resettlement of the Europani as best she could. She doubted that her perspective added anything new to the admiral’s understanding of the situation; some of the questions involved the station, but many concerned Bajor, which she was not always able to answer. They paused only once, so that Kira could check in with the station, letting them know that she would be aboard Mjolnirlonger than anticipated. When she thought the admiral had finished speaking with her, she rose to leave.

“I have one more question,” Akaar said. “Have the efforts to help the Europani had an impact on Bajor’s aid to Cardassia?”

“Deep Space 9 is continuing to function as a staging platform for Cardassian aid,” Kira said, placing her hands on the back of the chair she had been sitting in. “The situation has become more complicated with the Europani on the station, and all the ships and crews waiting to take them back to Europa Nova, but we’re managing.”

“Yes,” Akaar said, seeming to acknowledge and dismiss Kira’s reply at the same time. “What I am asking about is the aid going to Cardassia directlyfrom Bajor…directly from the Bajoran people.”

“Oh,” Kira said. This was not an issue that she particularly wanted to address. Following the war with the Dominion, Bajor, by virtue of its close proximity to Cardassia, had been the natural place from which to coordinate and launch relief efforts. DS9, with its docking and cargo facilities, and its status as the nearest Federation starbase, had been a further logical choice to assist. Kira had been comfortable with those decisions, though her tolerance for Cardassians had developed by degrees over the years. She had not come to such acceptance easily, nor even always willingly, but her experiences with men like Aamin Marritza, who had sought to force Cardassia to accept responsibility for the atrocities perpetrated by Gul Darhe’el and others during the Occupation; and Tekeny Ghemor, who had fought the military dominance of his own government, had helped her understand that not all Cardassians were evil. And she had also come to believe that Bajorans could find both peace and strength in forgiveness and charity for their enemies.

Now the Cardassians required both. The choking stench of the fires consuming the Cardassian capital at the end of the war recurred to Kira, bringing her back to that horrible time. She remembered battling beside Damar to free his people from Dominion control, to help them escape the perfidy that would ultimately see eight hundred million Cardassian dead, including Damar himself. Kira had grown to respect Damar as a rebel and as a man, and she had to admit now that she had seen more than a little of herself in him.


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