19
Cenn
Cenn Desca had never been to Terok Nor before. In fact, he’d seldom left Bajor at all, except on three other occasions, all of them Militia business. The first time was when he was still a junior officer, part of the crew on a ship escorting ill-fated colonists to New Bajor in the Gamma Quadrant, almost seven years ago. Although that voyage had involved docking briefly at the station before continuing on through the Temple, Cenn had never needed to leave his ship. For that he was grateful. The view of the hideous structure outside his viewport—an absurd assemblage of rings and arcing towers that the Cardssians seemed to think made a good design for a space station—had been enough. There were so many things wrong it, he didn’t know where to begin…although the arrangement of the docking pylons in such a way that the largest ships were forced to converge on the smallest possible volume of space was certainly high on the list.
The other two times he’d left the planet had been as a sensor-tech on scout ships patrolling the edge of the Bajoran system. Neither of those had required stopovers at the station at all.
Now that he was here, stepping off the turbolift that had carried him from the docking ring to the Promenade, he again felt grateful that his duties hadn’t required him to visit before. The place was still far too Cardassian for his comfort. The passage of time, Starfleet’s presence, and their changing of the station’s name to Deep Space 9 had done little to alter that. He felt uneasy passing through its gearlike airlock portals, walking its dimly-lit decks, stepping over its high-lipped thresholds. The bewildering array of aliens he passed along the way didn’t help.
Having to go to the security office was the worst part of all, however. He wondered how many Bajorans had never walked out of this place.
He ascended the short steps, the double doors parting at his approach. Ro Laren looked up from behind the security desk, and Cenn realized too late as he entered that she was in the middle of a conversation with someone on the comm system. He started to back out of the office when she held up a finger, indicating that he should wait exactly where he was.
“…wish I could be more helpful, Lieutenant,” a voice was saying over the comm, “but as odd as the incident was, it barely seemed of any consequence seven years ago, much less after everything that’s happened since.”
“I understand, Doctor,” Ro said. “Would you be willing to open your personal logs for that stardate? Any additional details could prove significant. You have my word that I’ll keep anything not directly related to my investigation strictly confidential.”
“Of course,” the voice said without hesitation. “I’ll set up a clearance code for those entries and transmit it immediately. But the person you really want to speak to is Chief O’Brien. I suspect his involvement in the affair may have left him with memories far more vivid than mine.”
“I was planning to do just that,” Ro said. “Thank you again. And I apologize for interrupting your leave.”
“That’s not necessary. The Alexandria is departing Earth for the Bajor sector this evening. I’ve arranged to be on it. I should be back on the station in a few days.”
“Vacation lose its charm?”
“Actually, it’s been…interesting to reconnect with my extended family. So much so that I decided to save my remaining leave time for next year, when more of the Bashir clan is expected to be on Earth.”
“Sounds like you had fun. I look forward to hearing about it when you get back. Thanks again, Doctor. Ro out.” The lieutenant commed off and turned her full attention on Cenn, her sharp features lacking even a trace of a smile.
Not that I deserve otherwise, he reflected. I was abominable to her in Sidau. Best get this over with…
“I’m sorry for coming at a bad time, Lieutenant. I was hoping you could spare a few minutes for me to speak with you?”
Ro gestured for him to approach. Cenn stepped to the desk and stood before her, staring straight ahead. “I’d like to apologize for the manner in which I spoke to you this morning. I was out of line. Although I have genuine concerns about the future of the Militia now that Bajor is a Federation member, it was wrong of me to take my frustrations out on you. I hope you can forgive my disrespect, and my lack of professionalism.”
The corner of Ro’s mouth quirked up. “Apology accepted, Major. Please sit down.”
“Thank you. But with all due respect, I feel I should get back to my unit as soon as possible.”
“Back to—?” Her smile widened. “You have no idea why you’re here, do you?”
Cenn blinked. “General Lenaris told me only to report to you aboard the station immediately. I assumed it was because he expected me to offer you my formal apology in person. I was about to volunteer to do exactly that anyway, and since the general gave me no other specific instructions…” He trailed off, suddenly unsure of what was going on.
“I see,” Ro said, sounding amused. Cenn began to worry. “I really think you’re going to want to sit down for this. Can I offer you a drink?”
“No thank you,” he said as he lowered himself slowly into one of the guest chairs. A drink. This just gets worse by the second.
Ro leaned back, watching his face. He was beginning to wonder if she was enjoying his uncertainty. Finally she spoke. “You were half right.”
Cenn felt his brow furrowing. “About what?”
“About my natural instinct to look anywhere but Bajor for answers,” Ro said. “The hell of it is, I didn’t even realize it until you threw it in my face. If not for that, my investigation might have continued going nowhere. I’m in your debt, Major.”
He hesitated. “Are you telling me you found something?”
“Yes,” Ro said. “The beginning of the answer, I think. But I didn’t find it on Bajor. I found it here, on DS9.”
“I don’t understand. You just said—”
“What I meant was, if I hadn’t taken a harder look at the information that was available about Sidau, as you suggested, I might not have learned until much later that this station’s chief medical officer and its former chief of operations once visited the village. And spoke about it in their logs.”
“What did you find out?”
“I’ll get into that in a minute. The research isn’t complete. We still have a great deal of work ahead of us.”
“We?”
“I thought a lot about what you said to me on the surface, Major,” Ro said, resting her elbows on her desk. “And some things General Lenaris said as well. I came away from those conversations with a better understanding of what led to your outburst. Don’t get me wrong, you were out of line, and I’m glad you apologized. But I also came to realize, especially after I continued my investigation, that the Militia and Starfleet still need to work closely together. That’s why you’re here. With the full backing of General Lenaris and Captain Kira, you’ve been assigned to DS9 as its new Militia liaison officer, effective immediately.”
Cenn stared at her, speechless.
“Nothing to say?” Ro asked.
Cenn remained silent for several seconds more, then decided to go with the uppermost question in his mind. “Is this a joke?”
“The irony isn’t lost on me,” Ro admitted, “but I’m completely serious. You’ll be the Militia’s eyes and ears on the station, and coordinate any joint endeavors with Starfleet.”
“But…”
“What is it?”
Cenn searched for the right way to say what he was thinking. “Lieutenant, I understand what you’re trying to do. I applaud it. I’m even honored to be chosen for the position. And I realize that we who serve seldom have the luxury of choosing where we serve…but I have no desire to live and work aboard Terok Nor.”
Ro frowned. “Then stop thinking about it as Terok Nor. This is Federation Starbase Deep Space 9.”
“I realize everyone here has accustomed themselves to that,” Cenn said. “I’m not sure I can. This station was the Cardassian seat of power during the Occupation. It
was a place of slave labor and harsh summary judgment. It was, not long ago, the site of First Minister Shakaar’s assassination. That this station has been allowed to continue operating all these years is, quite frankly, offensive. It’s an affront to Bajorans everywhere.”
Ro leaned back in her chair, studying him from across her desk. Finally she said, “Get over it.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said, get over it. You think because you have a few chips on your shoulder, that you’re unique? That the people here casually put aside what went on within these bulkheads for decades? Are you really that arrogant?”
“I assure you, Lieutenant, I intended no insult.”
“I’m not sure I give a damn what you intended, Major. What I know is—” Ro stopped in midsentence, seeming to turn her attention inward. She let out a short laugh and shook her head.
“What is it?” Cenn asked.
“Just remembering one of my earlier conversations with the general. It’s not important,” Ro said, refocusing on Cenn. “The point I’m trying to make is that it’s easy to be dismissive when you’re ignorant. And that’s what you are in this case, Major. You’re as ignorant of DS9 as I was of Sidau.”
“Perhaps I am,” Cenn conceded. “But that still doesn’t alter the past. This place—”
“This place,” Ro interrupted, “is just that, Major—a place. It’s defined, at any point in time, by the people in it. You’re right: Once this was a place of fear, and oppression, and death. But now it’s one of hope, and optimism, and life. It’s what we make of it. And it can still be dangerous, no question. Its past is important, and it should never be forgotten. But its present and its future matter more. You can help to define those things.” Ro stood up and reached across her desk, offering him her hand. “What do you say?”
Cenn looked at the outstretched hand, then slowly rose to his feet and grabbed it with his own. “I say that I don’t think I have the slightest idea what I’m getting into.”
Ro grinned. “Then you’ll fit in perfectly. Welcome to Deep Space 9.”
20
Asarem
The door was open.
From the air, the house looked tiny and unassuming. Up close Asarem saw nothing about it to make her revise that impression. As secluded mountain retreats went, it was quite easy to overlook and thoroughly forgettable. But then, she supposed that was the point. Following the dirt path that led from the clearing where her executive skycar had landed, to the steep stone steps that ascended to the front door of the humble two-story dwelling, Asarem reflected that “retreat” was indeed an apt description for the place.
She had told her pilot, her aide, and her personal guards to stay with the skycar. The guards had protested, of course. She tried to tell them that Janitza was one of the most remote and sparsely inhabited regions of the planet, and that the likelihood of there being an assassin lying in wait for her unannounced visit was next to nil. It was a weak argument, she knew, and one that nobody responsible for the safety of Bajor’s head of state would listen to. These guards were no exception. But then Theno spoke up, reminding them that this trip constituted a familial visit by the first minister, who was therefore entitled to privacy. The security officers would have to content themselves with securing the perimeter of the grounds around the house. The guards capitulated.
Despite the open door awaiting her at the top of the steps, the portal bore no symbol of welcome, no light of hospitality. The encroaching twilight of the Janitza mountain range threw most of the dwelling’s interior into darkness, except for a narrow rectangle of light visible on the extreme opposite side of the house. Another open door.
I’m expected, she realized. Feeling her heart thumping inside her chest, she ignored it and went inside.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness within the house, its modest furnishings and expansive bookshelves registered dimly, including the simple desk where she made out a stylus resting atop a short stack of papers. She almost missed the shrine in a corner of one of the central rooms, but the scent of candle wax, recently melted, was unmistakable. That Aldos remained contemplative and well read didn’t surprise her, but she found she had to resist the temptation to stop at the desk and see what he was working on.
At the opposite door, she stopped. The way opened onto a wide wooden deck, painted green. There was a railing all around, adorned with lighted candles, and the view beyond it was breathtaking. The snowcapped Janitza mountain range stretched before her. The sun had already dipped behind the peaks, and the sky above them was awash in astonishing colors. A forested slope descended away from the house and into a lush, wild valley blanketed in the shadow of the mountains. She could only imagine how the scene must look in late morning, when all would be bathed in light.
She saw a powerful-looking telescope aimed skyward in the northwest corner, near the railing. Directly before her in the center of the platform, facing the spectacular view, was a high-backed deck chair. Next to it was a small table on which sat a single empty goblet and an elegant, blown-glass decanter of spring wine.
From the chair, a strong hand reached out and set a second goblet down on the table, half empty. Aldos’s profile became visible for a second as he completed the motion. She thought he had changed little in seven years, except perhaps that his hair was grayer. Then his hand withdrew, and his face disappeared within the chair again. Asarem was preparing to make her presence known when he made that unnecessary.
“I’ve heard it said that you don’t realize how much you’ll miss people until they’re gone,” he said. “But what I’ve come to understand is that you don’t realize just how little you miss them until one comes to disturb your peace.”
Asarem’s eyes narrowed. “It’s nice to see you too, Aldos. Your charms are undiminished.”
Krim Aldos stood up slowly and turned to face Asarem, the tiny smile he always had for her forming at one corner of his mouth. “I never had much use for charms, Wadeen, as you know better than anyone. Nevertheless, what few I possess worked on you in their day.”
“True,” she conceded, stepping out onto the deck. “But it was I who convinced you that we should marry. It was you who succumbed to my wishes then.”
Krim inclined his head, acknowledging the truth of her statement. He reached for the decanter of wine and filled both goblets. “Do you think I’ll succumb to your wishes now?”
He knows, she thought, wondering how she should proceed now. Though his body language betrayed nothing, she knew he would be on his guard. Finally she said, “I think you’ll do the right thing.”
Krim set down the decanter, stoppered it, and picked up both goblets. He extended one of them to her as he closed the distance between them. “And what precisely does the first minister of Bajor think is the right thing?”
Asarem accepted the goblet, watching the candlelight dance on the surface of the wine before she met his eyes. “Must we play these games?”
“That’s up to you, Wadeen. You’re the one avoiding the reason for your uninvited and unannounced visit.” He raised his glass. “To Rava Mehwyn. May her pagh know peace.”
Asarem touched her goblet to Krim’s, but didn’t drink. “I didn’t want to intrude on you,” she said, “but circumstances required that I come. Bajor needs you.”
Krim took a sip from his wine. He had enough respect for her not to laugh, at least. “What you mean is that you believe Bajor needs me,” he said. “I don’t happen to agree.”
“I didn’t think you would,” Asarem countered. “Nevertheless, I’m here to ask you to serve your people once again, to become Bajor’s representative to the Federation.”
Krim turned away, moving to the edge of the deck. He set his goblet down on the railing and watched the last glimmers of color shrink behind the mountains. Overhead, the stars were beginning to emerge.
“I asked one thing of you when we last spoke, seven years ago,” she heard him say. “One thing. To be left alone. I saved your political career by u
nshackling you from my disgrace, and all I asked in return was that you honor my request for solitude. You couldn’t even do that.”
Asarem’s mouth dropped open. “Unshackling me? Is that what you believe…?” Her complete astonishment gave way to outrage. “You selfish, self-pitying, egotistical pavrak! How dare you? How dare you claim to have done me a favor by ending our marriage?”
Krim turned to face her again, his voice even. “Don’t. Don’t do this, Wadeen. Don’t pretend you didn’t agree it was the best course of action for your career. Or that it hasn’t been proven out. You’re the first minister of Bajor now.”
“I didn’t become first minister by being voted into office, you idiot. My predecessor was assassinated!”
“But you were Shakaar’s second minister. You were his choice to succeed him, a choice the electorate supported when he nominated you. That could never have happened to the wife of General Krim, and you’d be naïve to think otherwise. Even your friend Ledahn understood that. Your blossoming political career would have ended very quickly if we had stayed married. Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t believe that seven years ago.”
Asarem didn’t answer. She wanted to deny it, wanted to tell him she’d merely become his excuse to indulge in his newfound fixation with martyrdom, after already resigning as overgeneral of the Militia for his role in Jaro Essa’s coup d’état. Instead she said nothing, because the truth was, she hadn’t stopped him seven years ago. Aldos had fallen on his sword, and she…she had accepted it and survived, even prospered, while he attempted to vanish from Bajoran memory.
And it was all unnecessary.
“You’re right,” she told him. “I let you make the choice I was afraid to make for myself, to end the marriage so I could distance myself from scandal.” She stepped to the edge of the deck, set down her goblet next to his, and faced him directly. “But now you have to admit something to me, Aldos. You have to look me in the eye and tell me you still think your resignation was the right choice when, two years after the coup failed, the Circle Commission issued its report and exonerated you.”
Worlds of Star Trek Deep Space Nine® Volume Two Page 38
