Twist of Faith

by S. D. Perry

  Morn was starting to get sloppy, talking about how much hair Linjarin had, so Quark casually moved to the other end of the bar, to better indulge one of his two new favorite pastimes: thinking about his impending dinner with Ro. The other was fantasizing about Shar’s mother visiting the station and asking for Quark’s advice on the Alpha Quadrant’s economy—just as exciting, but nowhere near as immediate.

  He’d already decided to take Ro to a holosuite, and to wear the new coat he’d special-ordered—off-the-rack was for losers, at least when it came to impressing the ladies; it was one of the very few expenses that he didn’t skimp on, often—but he was still debating the perfect environment. He didn’t want to be too obvious, so the sex palace program was definitely out…but maybe the harem room, minus the harem. Lots of pillows, and plenty of that veil-y fabric hanging all over the place. They could eat toasted tubeworms and drink sweet p’losie wine—he had a case of the stuff that was about to turn—a little conversation, a little music…she said she didn’t want any “involvement,” but Quark was a romantic at heart; he’d wear her down. He’d woo her until she couldn’t think straight.

  He had just formed a perfect mental picture of her in one of those teeny little harem outfits, all delicate and wispy except for a pair of gravity boots and an intimidating sneer, when the bar’s companel signaled. His daydream dissolved into Morn’s sloppy face, which happened to be in the way of Quark’s unseeing gaze. Talk about a lobe shriveler.

  Scowling, Quark smacked the panel with one fist. “What?”

  “You get more and more charming every day,” Kira said, her voice dripping sarcasm.

  Quark made a face. “Sorry, Colonel. What?”

  “I want to have a senior staff gathering tonight, in the meeting hall across from the jeweler’s. Kind of an impromptu welcome for Commander Vaughn and Taran’atar.”

  Quark backpedaled like mad. “What a wonderful idea! Colonel, I have to say, you’re…well, just so generous when it comes to showing your staff how much they mean to you,” he marveled, throwing his heart into it. “But you know, if you really wanted to make them feel like a part of our small, close-knit community, you’d have your party here, where everyone could join in. You know, so that our new friends can really get to know the people they’ll be living and working with every single day—”

  “Drinks and appetizers for, say, fifteen people, for two hours, 2100 on,” Kira snapped. “Make it nice and I’ll see that you get an extra hour of computer time every day this week.”

  “You’re such a good person, Colonel, I mean that,” Quark said, but Kira commed off before he could push the dessert option. Too bad, but the extra time was incentive enough; he’d been having to run the holosuites off his own reserves, which didn’t come cheap, and Kira had flat-out refused to reimburse him for the expense. As if she hadn’t been the one who’d authorized dumping the station’s entire fusion core….

  Ro was senior staff.

  “Grimp!” Quark screamed, the server nearly dropping a tray of glasses at the sound of his own name. Worthless slug.

  As Grimp scurried toward the bar, Quark made a mental list of what needed to be done to get ready for the party—and after a discreet sniff, he added taking a shower, or at least splashing some of that special cologne on, the stuff that all the dabo girls had commented on. He remembered that even Leeta had been impressed, telling him that she’d never smelled anything quite like it—

  At the other end of the bar, Morn let out a huge, gaseous belch and blinked his watery eyes, his upper body weaving back and forth as if in a strong wind. Quark shook his head, wondering how it was that some people managed to get along without even a shred of class or culture.

  Some things, even latinum couldn’t buy….

  Once they reached the meeting hall, Taran’atar stayed near the door, wondering if he was supposed to approach any of the assembled. There were only six others besides himself—Kira and Vaughn, Dr. Bashir and a female Trill, and a Starfleet tactical lieutenant. The sixth was a Ferengi, bearing plates of food and drink. On the way from his quarters, the colonel had suggested that he just be himself, but that meant not speaking unnecessarily; he wanted to follow orders, but after watching the gathering for a short time period, he saw that talking to others seemed to be the purpose.

  Still, Taran’atar was unsure of the appropriate action. Colonel Kira had officially announced his presence to DS9’s population hours ago, but had explained to him afterward that it might be some time before he was “accepted.” He didn’t understand how that could be—what was there to accept? He was on the station; it was a fact. Perhaps she had been speaking figuratively—

  Two people were approaching, Dr. Bashir and the Trill. They smiled, and were touching hands as they walked. Taran’atar prepared for the confrontation; he was to be himself. They stopped in front of him, and he saw that Dr. Bashir carried a small plate holding slices of unknown fruit.

  “Taran’atar, I’m Ezri Dax,” the Trill said, her smile fading as she looked up at him. “I want to welcome you here.”

  Taran’atar nodded, accepting her statement.

  Bashir was also serious now, properly establishing sincerity just as the woman had. “Taran’atar, I just wanted to say again that, ah, I’m grateful to you for saving my life.”

  “You owe me nothing,” Taran’atar said firmly, recognizing the burden of obligation Bashir had expressed. This was going well, their interchange.

  “Come with us,” Dax said. “We can help you interact with the others. If that’s your choice.”

  Taran’atar nodded again, remembering what Kira had said at the meeting of his explanation. An expression of appreciation. “Thank you.”

  The doctor and the Trill exchanged a look, and then both were smiling again. Taran’atar hoped he had spoken appropriately. Never in all his years had he felt so lost, so far away from the reality he understood best, but he would learn. Odo had singled him out, had spoken his name; Taran’atar would watch and learn, or, as he vowed to Kira Nerys, he would die in the attempt

  Shar joined the party a few minutes late, wishing that the colonel had been less adamant about attendance. Since the call from Charivretha, he’d spent his off-duty hours alone in his quarters, aware that his parentage had become common knowledge; he didn’t want to talk about it, and had begun to avoid social interaction.

  Before he’d taken a single step into the room, Quark was at his side, holding up a tray of vegetable pieces. A strange odor surrounded him, though Shar didn’t know if it was the vegetables or Quark himself.

  “Shar! I’m so glad you could make it, I haven’t seen you around for a couple of days. Try these—fresh Bajoran vegetables, marinated in p’losie wine. Exquisite, don’t you think?”

  Shar nervously took a piece and tasted it, aware that Quark was one of those who would be treating him differently since learning about Zhavey. “Very good. Do you know if Nog is coming, or Lieutenant Ro?”

  “Of course! Are you kidding? They’re both your friends, right? Nog is a wonderful boy, I’m just thrilled that the two of you have become so close. Any friend of his, you know? And Ro…”

  Quark grinned, lowering his voice slightly, speaking in a conspiratorial way. “Why do you think I’m wearing this cologne? It cost me a pretty strip, I don’t just put it on for no good reason. What do you think?”

  It smelled vaguely like deuterium fumes on a hot day, mixed with something organic and possibly decomposing.

  “I’ve never smelled anything like it,” Shar said honestly, and Quark nodded happily.

  “Exactly. Say, as long as we’re talking, I’ve been meaning to ask you—I had this really incredible idea about establishing new shipping lanes into the Beta Quadrant, and—”

  “Hey, Shar.”

  Shar turned, grateful for the interruption. It was Nog, just arriving.

  “Nephew, how nice,” Quark said through a gritted smile. “I think Colonel Kira wanted to see you about something….”
<
br />   Nog pointed across the room. “Look, Lieutenant Bowers is holding an empty glass. You’re not catering for a flat fee, are you?”

  Quark hesitated, then grinned at Shar again. “If you’ll excuse me…perhaps we can pick this up again later.”

  Shar put on a smile for Nog as Quark swept away. “Hello, Nog.”

  “You’ll have to excuse my uncle,” Nog said, smiling back. “He thinks that if he can get in good with you, he’ll have an inside line to the Federation Council.”

  Shar felt that too-familiar ache inside, his heart growing heavy and sinking, but Nog wasn’t finished.

  “Like anyone cares who your mom is. My dad’s the Grand Nagus of Ferenginar, but what does that say about me? Nothing, that’s what.”

  Shar blinked, looking into Nog’s earnest face—and felt something starting to loosen inside.

  “You don’t care…”

  “About your mother?” Nog asked. “Why would I? I don’t know her.”

  Nog abruptly narrowed his eyes, looking across the room to where the Jem’Hadar was standing with Dr. Bashir and Ezri, the three of them talking to Commander Vaughn.

  “Have you met him yet?” Nog asked.

  Shar shook his head, still feeling that sense of release in his chest, feeling good for the first time since Zhavey had called. It didn’t resolve the big problem, about what he was going to do—but if Nog didn’t care about Charivretha zh’Thane…perhaps there were others who didn’t, either.

  “Well, Kira can make me talk to him, but she can’t make me like it,” Nog said. “And if he didn’t have Odo vouching for him, I would have put in for transfer already.”

  “You respect Odo,” Shar said.

  Nog nodded. “Yeah, I guess I do. He scared me when I was younger, always checking up on me…but he treated me okay once I grew up a little…”

  He trailed off, staring at Taran’atar, then looked back at Shar, visibly brightening. “So, I guess we’re going to be working together for a while, on the Defiant. Kira says that they are going to be refitting it for two science labs, biochem and stellar cartography. It’s going to take weeks to get everything up and running. Ensign Tenmei is supposed to drop by later, so we can start talking about the new navigation-sensor patch.”

  Shar nodded, wondering if he would still be on the station when it was all finished, hoping very much that he would.

  “What do you think they will do about the station’s fusion core?”

  Nog broke into a grin. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you—I think I have the solution! I just need to make sure the numbers work, but if they do, and if I can convince the colonel to let me go ahead with it, our power problems will be over in a week!”

  Shar was skeptical. “A week.”

  “Two, tops,” Nog guaranteed. “Come on, let’s go get a couple of drinks, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  When finally Julian got back with their drinks—Quark had run out of synthale, and dashed off to the bar to get more—Ezri and Vaughn were smiling at one another like old friends, Vaughn nodding and shaking her hand.

  Julian handed Ezri her drink and Vaughn excused himself, taking Taran’atar with him to meet Lieutenant Bowers. Ezri was glowing.

  “I take it your conversation went poorly,” Julian said, smiling. Across the room, he saw peripherally that Ro Laren and Kasidy had just arrived, and that Quark was practically running to greet them.

  Ezri grinned up at him. “I’ll have you know that you’re looking at the unofficial assistant commander for the Defiant’s first trip into the Gamma Quadrant.”

  “Ezri, that’s wonderful,” he said, meaning it. “And you’re sure this is what you want…”

  “Positive,” she said. “And Vaughn’s going to include his recommendation along with Kira’s, that I’m put on a command track.”

  Julian touched the rim of her glass with his, feeling a sudden wave of warmth and love for her. They’d had several long talks since he’d woken up from surgery, about needs and expectations. Ezri’s sudden decision to transfer to command was something of a surprise, but she said that she was ready to commit herself…one of the immediate results being that she wouldn’t need quite so much space to figure out what she wanted to do.

  “I just finally realized that with as much potential as I have, I could stand around for years contemplating my choices,” she said, lying in his arms, her ever-cold hands in his. “I want to get on with it, that’s all. I’m ready.”

  Julian had surprised himself by trying to talk her out of it, afraid that she was only reacting to his near-death experience, but she insisted that while her fear had played a part in her resolution, it wasn’t the only reason.

  “You’re worrying again,” she said. “Quit it, Julian. I made up my mind, and I’m happy with my decision.”

  “Yes, but I don’t want you to feel like—”

  “—I don’t,” she said firmly. “And it might do you some good to remember that as much as I love you, you’re probably going to be calling me ‘sir’ before too long.”

  Julian lowered his voice, leaning in. “I can call you sir now, if you like.”

  Her eyes sparkled as she looked over the rim of her glass. “Ask me again later,” she said.

  Julian promised her that he would.

  Vaughn was enjoying himself thoroughly, talking and watching and relaxing. Kira was in a fine mood—and no wonder, she’d told him all about the prophecy situation and its outcome earlier—and though he’d already been impressed by her command in crisis, seeing her at ease and happy cinched his feelings. He was going to like working for her.

  So far, he’d liked everyone he’d talked with. Vaughn had met most of the senior staff yesterday, and thought them a good mix. The only one he hadn’t met formally was Ro Laren, and when he saw her talking to the Ferengi bartender, he started edging in her direction. Taran’atar, a little baffled but still game, was listening intently to Lieutenant Bowers recommending sociology texts he should look into.

  Quark was smiling up at Ro with the unmistakable demeanor of the hopelessly smitten, shooting an unhappy glance in Vaughn’s direction when he approached them.

  “Nice party, Quark,” Vaughn said. “Though I should probably tell you, that fruit wine of yours is right on the edge of going bad.”

  “I’ll have to look into that,” Quark said blankly, then smiled at Ro again. Vaughn noticed an odd smell coming from him.

  “So, tomorrow night it is,” Quark said, and Ro nodded. With another sullen look at Vaughn, the Ferengi hurried away, a definite spring in his step, taking his odor with him.

  “Lieutenant Ro, I’m Elias Vaughn,” he introduced himself, extending his hand. Ro shook a little hesitantly, but her grip was firm.

  “Commander,” she said, only meeting his eyes for an instant before looking away. He wasn’t surprised; her disastrous reputation in Starfleet preceded her, and he knew from her files that she was something of an introvert.

  “I hear you were top of your class at Advanced Tactical,” Vaughn said. “You know, I helped design part of their curriculum. I’d be interested in hearing what you thought of the entire training experience; we should get together some time.”

  Ro nodded, her surprise showing in the slight widening of her eyes. “Sure. That would be fine. I’m sorry, Commander, if you’ll excuse me…”

  “Of course. Nice meeting you.”

  Ro quickly walked over to where Shar and Nog were, both young men greeting her warmly. Interesting; Vaughn looked forward to knowing her better. She’d led a life of extremes, and he found that while real adversity destroyed many, it also sculpted its survivors into some of the most intriguing personalities he’d ever known.

  He wondered if she had any idea what Picard had done, after word had started to spread that she’d resurfaced on Bajor. Starfleet had been ready to clap her in irons and put her away for good, Bajoran government or no Bajoran government. But something about this woman had affected Jean-Luc profoundly, d
espite her betrayal. He’d actually lobbied command behind the scenes on her behalf, quietly but insistently, until they agreed to let the Ro Laren matter drop. Starfleet might never go so far as to issue her a formal pardon, but because of Jean-Luc Picard, they would let her be.

  Vaughn noticed that Taran’atar was starting to look a touch uncertain as he sniffed the air around Quark and went to rescue him, as happy as he’d been in years.

  Ensign Prynn Tenmei ran her fingers through her short black hair and checked one more time to make sure her combadge was on straight as she strode toward the hall. She’d been so busy dealing with the Defiant, then the evacuation and its aftermath, that she’d only learned about the new XO and the welcoming reception an hour ago. One shower and fresh uniform later, she felt ready to meet her new commander, and she was determined to make a good first impression.

  Tenmei took a deep breath, then another, stepped through the doors…and refused to believe what she saw.

  Vaughn.

  Oh, God. He’s the new first officer?

  He stood there, talking to the Jem’Hadar with a slight smile on his face.

  Shaking with rage, Prynn turned before she could be noticed and bolted out the door. She walked quickly away, headed for her quarters. After a few seconds, she broke into a run.

  Nerys had gone out of her way to invite Kasidy to the welcoming party. Kas had debated not going, but finally decided that she would stop by at least long enough to announce her decision, maybe longer depending on how she felt. She ran into Ro just outside the meeting hall, and the two women walked in together in a companionable silence. Kas liked Ro; she thought Bajor could use a few more like her.