Worf’s estimate starting sliding back downward again. “If you have such an option, kindly state it.”

“For once, I agree with the general,” Zarin said. “You may like the sound of your own voice, Ambassador, but I find it grating.”

“Sticks and stones, Legate,” Dax said, a phrase that Worf found meaningless. “Sixty years ago, the Federation and the Klingons signed the Organian Peace Treaty. The conflict that predated the treaty involved the dispute of several border worlds. One of the terms of that treaty was that each nation would be given the opportunity to develop those worlds and prove their claim to be the strongest.”

Worf frowned. “You suggest that we do the same for Raknal?”

“Yes.” Dax pointed to the rendering of the planet on the viewscreen. “The world has two continents. What I propose is the following: The northern continent will be under the direction of Cardassia. You will treat that continent as if it were one of your colony worlds—set up some kind of governmental body and proceed accordingly. The southern continent will be under the jurisdiction of the Klingon Empire under the same terms. Both the Klingon governor and the Cardassian ruling body will make regular reports to me. When I am satisfied that one nation or the other has proven itself best able to exploit the world’s resources, I will make a decision as to whom it will be ceded.”

Zarin stood up. “Preposterous!”

“On the contrary, Legate. Whoever gains the planet will have earnedit. Rather than simply gaining it by stumbling across it—or,” he added with a glance at Worf, “by the happenstance of one’s ancestors having stumbled across it centuries ago—you will have proven that it deserves to belong to you. Or, as the case may be, not.”

Even as Zarin fumed, his lips quivering in anger, Worf found himself grudgingly admiring Dax’s solution. It was not ideal, but this, at least, was a battle the Empire couldwin. Bringing worlds under our heel is something at which we have always excelled.

Worf noted that the Cardassians were being given control of the continent on which the Ch’gran remains had been found. That was wise—it meant the Klingons would have to gain the world in order to gain the remains. However, it did raise a point. “How do we know that the Cardassians will not simply take Ch’gran?”

“The Ch’gran site is to remain untouched until the final determination is made. Any violation of that will result in the unconditional ceding of the world to the Klingons.”

Zarin’s lips were still quivering. “What possible reason do we have to agree to these obscene terms?”

Dax looked up at the legate. “The only reason you need, Legate—lack of desire to pursue any of the alternatives.” He leaned back in his chair. “I don’t expect either of you to be able to answer right away. You will need to consult your governments. We will reconvene here in two weeks to finalize the agreement.”

“Assuming,” Worf said as he stood, “that there isan agreement.”

Again, Dax smiled. “Assuming, yes, General. Oh, one other thing.” He looked at both of them. “Call off your fleets. Captain Haden has already called for more ships—they’ll arrive by tomorrow. I expect that both the cloaked fleet and the ships in the nebula will be gone by the time they arrive.”

Zarin exhaled loudly, his lips practically on overdrive, as he turned and left, the aide right behind him, two guards behind them.

Worf watched them depart, then looked back at Dax. “You are playing a dangerous game, Ambassador.” Then he smiled. “I admire dangerous games.”

“Thank you, General. We will speak again soon.”

With that, the Trill turned and left.

Lorgh looked at the general. “Would you still rather Riva was assigned?”

“Yes,” Worf said without hesitation. “Dax is still an arrogant petaQ.A more clever one than I thought—but the designation stands.”

Laughing, Lorgh said, “Perhaps. But he does understand the Klingon heart. We will fight for Ch’gran, and we will be victorious. And the Empire will be great once more.”

Youth,Worf thought with disdain. “You may be right, Lorgh. Time will be the judge.”

“It always is, General.”

“Do you honestly believe this is going to work?”

Dax looked up from his raktajinoand his padd. He sat in the Carthagelounge, reading over the draft of a resolution that had been awaiting his perusal for the last week. Minister T’Latrek had sent several communiqués to him asking for his approval of the text, without which the Calabrese Treaty could not go through. Finally, with a lull in this Betreka Nebula nonsense, he could do so.

Now, the slim form of Elias Vaughn stood over him, a querying look in his penetrating blue eyes. Vaughn had, at least, not actively ruined the negotiations, thus not fulfilling the fear Dax had expressed to Garrett, but neither had he contributed anything of use. As with most of his ilk, he was a waste of time and space, and Dax saw no reason to let such a waste get in the way of his work.

“Lieutenant! What a complete lack of pleasure it is to see you. Please, don’t have a seat and go away.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

With a snort, Dax said, “I’m under no obligation to answer questions posed by Starfleet lieutenants, Mr. Vaughn.”

“Consider it practice—because you can be assured that I’m not the last person who’ll ask it.”

Dax closed his eyes and sighed. In that, at least, Vaughn was correct. But Curzon Dax was used to his judgment being questioned. He had hoped that as he got older, as his reputation for success improved, he would no longer be second-guessed so much, but if anything the tendency of others to do so had increased over the years. “Yes, Lieutenant, I honestly believe this is going to work. There’s even precedent. Sherman’s Planet, Capella IV, Neu—”

“And you truly believe that this is the same thing?”

“Of course it isn’t, don’t be ridiculous,” Dax snapped. “But the basics are still sound. Neither side is willing to commit to a war. Besides, this provides the competition of such a conflict without the concomitant loss of life. I can’t see how anyone would view that as a bad thing, myself.”

Vaughn shook his head. “How old are you, Ambassador?”

“Older than you think,” Dax said cryptically, since one answer to that question would be a three-digit number. That point-one percent of the Trill population lived in symbiosis was not public knowledge off-world, nor that Dax was one of that rare number. Though various Daxes over the years had revealed that secret, Curzon saw no reason to bring Vaughn into that circle.

The lieutenant didn’t look happy with that reply, but did not pursue it. “Then you should know better than to believe it will be as simple as you think. Your solution is too neat, and is more than likely going to blow up in all our faces.”

I’ve had enough of this.“Your years of experience in diplomacy have taught you this, eh, Lieutenant?”

“No, but youryears should have taught you the difference between two sides that aren’t willingto commit to war and two sides that aren’t able.This is a case of the latter, notthe former, and time isn’t on our side. What you’ve proposed is a compromise, and compromises tend to please no one. Neither the Klingons nor the Cardassians have given any indication that they respond well to not being pleased, and the longer this idiocy goes on, the stronger they’ll be, and the more likely they are to vent their displeasure in bloody ways.”

Dax sighed. Let me rephrase—I had enough of this when he came on board. We’re now up to more than enough.“Lieutenant, I’ve been doing this for longer than you’ve been alive. I also know how Klingons think. They will fight with honor for the right to take this planet, and I’m sure the Cardassians will do likewise. Whoever does gain claim to this world will have earned it. There will be no bloodshed, and there will be no displeasure. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to do.”