I wonder why he wants to talk to Vaughn,Troi thought as he followed the probe on sensors. The telemetry was coming through clearly for the time being, but that would change once it got to the nebula. Hope this doesn’t scotch our dinner plans.Vaughn had agreed to share the evening meal with Troi, duties permitting. Troi had enjoyed chatting with the older man quite a bit—even though, looking back on it, Vaughn hadn’t revealed anything personal about himself, nor talked much about his career, while Troi had done a great deal of both. Well, fine,he thought. After all that time on Betazed, it’ll be nice to talk to someone I have to actuallytalk to.

“Ch’gran is notjust an archaeological curiosity,” General Worf said, pounding his fist on the table. Clad in a red Defense Force uniform and a floor-length beige cassock that had fewer medals than Dax would have thought from someone as old as the general, the white-haired Klingon sat at one end of the Carthagebriefing room table, staring angrily at Legate Zarin. “It is a holy relic of the Klingon Empire. You cannotsimply trample on our sacred ground and not expect a response.”

Zarin, whose hair was equally white but considerably shorter, looked like he’d just eaten a lemon, his face was so sour. “If we had any indication that it was sacred ground, ourresponse might be somewhat different, General, but I’m afraid that rules of salvage seemed more applicable than any attempt to placate the arcane sensibilities of alien species.”

“The legate has a point, General,” Dax said quickly before this escalated yet again. He was starting to get a headache. Usually, this kind of negotiating session invigorated him, but this was simply wearing him down. Worf and Zarin were going around in the same circle, and doing it so often, they were digging a rut into the ground. “The Sontok’s response to the remains was completely acceptable under salvage laws.”

“And whose laws would those be, Ambassador?” Worf asked. “The Betreka Sector is unclaimed space. It is covered by no treaty that exists between Cardassia and the Empire.”

“There areno treaties between Cardassia and your ridiculous little empire, fool,” Zarin said.

Worf looked at Zarin and smiled. “That is precisely my point, Legate. Only a petaQwould hide behind protestations of ‘proper’ behavior when the parameters for such behavior do not even exist.”

First rule of mediation,Dax thought, when the parties start calling each other names, it’s time for a recess.“We’ve been at this for hours, gentlemen.” And I use that word loosely.“Why don’t we take a short break and reconvene at fifteen hundred hours?”

Zarin stood up quickly. His aides did likewise half a second later. One of them, the youngest, stumbled as he got out of his chair. “To that, I have no objection, Ambassador Dax.” With a look at Worf he added, “The air in here has gotten foul.”

As Zarin and his staff exited through the far door, Dax thought, Please don’t let the Klingons do anything stupid.Hoping to head off any attempts to reclaim honor at the pass, Dax started, “General, I urge you, don’t—”

But Worf had already risen from his chair and gone out the near door, his own aides trailing behind him.

Dax closed his eyes and counted to ten. Then he contacted the bridge, and instructed the communications officer to put a private communication through to Ambassador Sarek on Vulcan.

It took about twenty minutes—during which time Dax had ordered a grakizhsalad from the food dispenser—for the call to go through. When it did, just as Dax popped the last of the yellow leaves from the salad into his mouth, the old-fashioned triangular viewscreen in the center of the briefing room table lit up with the somber image of Sarek of Vulcan, the garden of his house at ShiKahr visible through the picture window behind him. Dax hadn’t been to the house since shortly before his mentor’s marriage a year ago to a human woman—his third, and second to a human—and he noted that the plants seemed livelier and larger than they had in the past. Perchance his new wife has a green thumb.Dax hadn’t yet met Perrin, but as long as she made Sarek as happy as the late Amanda Grayson—whose company Dax had always enjoyed in his younger days as Sarek’s aide—then he knew he would like her.

“How go the negotiations, Curzon?”As usual, Sarek didn’t bother with unnecessary pleasantries.

“Not as well as I’d like, I’m afraid. Both sides are being predictably stubborn. I understand the Klingons’ position, but the Cardassians are genuinely baffled by it. I’m trying to be fair to them—after all, they think they have every right to Raknal V.”

“Perhaps. But you must be wary of being too accommodating to the Cardassians.”

Dax smiled. “Actually, I’m more worried about the opposite. My affinity for the Klingons is hardly a secret.”

“If there are any who are unaware of it, it is only because you have not had the opportunity to provide that information to them,”Sarek said dryly. “That sort of emotional attachment can be a detriment.”

“It’s served me well with the Klingons,” Dax said almost defensively. Damn you, Sarek, how is it you manage to make me feel like a twenty-year-old naïf even now?“In fact, I’d venture to say that our continued good relations with the Empire are due in no small part to that public affinity.”

“Which is why I have not discouraged the affinity in the past. However, in this instance, it may do you more harm than good.”

Smiling ruefully, Dax said, “Actually, I think my problem is the other way around—I’m overcompensating by being toonice to the Cardassians.”

“That would be a mistake. I have seen firsthand what Cardassians are capable of if they are given too much—niceness.”

Dax grinned. “I’ll just have to be more like you, then.”

“I have always felt that you could afford to incorporate more discipline into your personality. It is good to see that you are at last taking my advice.”

The grin widening, Dax said, “First time for everything.” He let out a breath. Just talking to the ambassador made him feel better. “Thank you, Sarek—I needed this.”

“I have done nothing.”

Dax shook his head. Only a Vulcan could go from arrogant to modest within two sentences—and make them both sound like simple statements of fact.“Well, thanks for nothing, then. Give my regards to Perrin.”

“I will do so.”

“When this mess is over, I’ll try to drop by and finally meet her. Looks like she’s done wonders with the garden.”

Sarek came infinitesmally close to a smile. “My wife has a great affinity for bringing out the best in living things.”

“That’s good to hear, old friend. Take care.”

As Sarek’s face faded from the screen, Dax thought back to the glow that surrounded Ian Troi at the reception last night. At the mention of Perrin and the garden, the same glow seemed to suffuse Sarek. Something about finding your life-mate that improves the disposition, obviously,Dax thought. Maybe I should try it again.

Of course, Curzon had never settled down with any single person, but many of the previous hosts of the Dax symbiont had done so, and found it most satisfying. But then there was Torias…

Dax banished the thought from his head. More than one fellow joined Trill had accused him of letting the memories of his last host have undue influence on the current one. Torias Dax had been married to Nilani Kahn for less than a year when a shuttle accident claimed the former’s life. Curzon still felt the pain of Torias’s death keenly, and some had said that Dax’s present inability to commit to any kind of long-term relationship was a psychological attempt to never again repeat what happened to Torias. Dax himself had always thought such accusations to be ridiculous. Curzon’s roving eye predated his joining—indeed, was the cause of more than one near-scandal during his time as an initiate. Bonding with the Dax symbiont simply did nothing to discourage that tendency.