“Jealousy? Why should I be jealous?” Quark said. “Unless you’re planning on holding a private security briefing with Tall, Dark, and Joined over there tonight instead of partaking of the evening I’ve planned for us.”
She recalled that tonight was to be her “second date” with Quark in the holosuites—and that hewas in charge of setting the evening’s agenda this time, since she had chosen their holographic milieu on the previous occasion. He had asked her to dress nicely, so she had high hopes that he wasn’t merely trying to maneuver her into some cheap oo-moxtrap.
“I wouldn’t dream of missing it.” She realized that she was actually looking forward to whatever Quark had planned this evening. Even though he could sometimes be crude and grabby, an evening with him was still a welcome escape from a reality that seemed to be growing grimmer by the hour. But her increasingly warm feelings toward Quark were no reason not to enjoy his obvious discomfiture at Gard’s attentions. And now seemed like a good time to clear the air with the Trill security man.
As she made a beckoning gesture toward the smiling Gard, Quark’s scowl deepened. “What are you doing?”
“Simply returning Mr. Gard’s professional courtesy. See you tonight, Quark.”
Quark rose, taking her blunt hint. “I’ve gotta go,” he said, then vanished.
A moment later, Gard was sitting in Quark’s former place. The Trill’s smile was even more dazzling close up, his white teeth contrasting sharply with his dark goatee. “I’m not sure,” Gard began, “but I get the sense your Ferengi friend doesn’t like me very much.”
Ro chuckled. “What gave it away, the frown, the loathing stare, or the bared teeth?”
“Ah. You’ve obviously had as many years of detective training as I’ve had.”
“Don’t mind Quark. He’s just got a mild self-esteem problem.”
Gard nodded knowingly, then took a quaff from his own glass. “I suppose being the last bastion of Ferengi capitalism can render a man’s ego a little fragile.”
Ro maintained a neutral expression as she sipped her tea, but she was nevertheless impressed; Gard had clearly done his homework regarding Quark. If his security arrangements were this thorough, then Ambassador Gandres ought to feel quite safe indeed.
“So,” Ro said, “do you prefer being addressed as Hiziki or Gard?”
His dark eyes twinkled, and for a fleeting moment Ro regretted having already committed her evening to Quark. “My joined name is fine,” he said, “except in professional situations. I find that when clients refer to me as ‘Gard,’ it only reminds them of what they hired me to do and keeps them ill at ease. I’ve heard allthe puns and jokes, believe me. During more than one lifetime.”
His breezy manner put Ro genuinely at ease. “You’ve had many previous hosts then?”
“Oh yes,” he said, apparently very much at ease as well. “And I’ve worked in law enforcement or security during most of those lives. It seems that the Symbiosis Commission has either stereotyped me, or that the initiates themselves have.”
She laughed slightly at that. “Most of my direct experience with joined Trills has been with Ezri Dax. If she weren’t away on a Starfleet exploration mission in the Gamma Quadrant right now, I’d introduce you to her. Dax has had eight previous hosts, and they were a pretty diverse lot from what I hear.”
Gard smiled again, and Ro saw a flash of recognition in his eyes. “Yes, I’ve met Dax. Her lives probably make mine seem quite dull by comparison.”
“To boredom,” Ro said, and they spontaneously clinked their glasses together before they each took another drink.
Ro set her glass down. “So how do you know Dax?”
Gard paused as a thoughtful expression crossed his face. At length, he said, “Let’s just say that one of her earlier incarnations once ran into a spot of trouble with the law.”
Ro’s eyebrows rose, but the conversational lull that followed made it immediately clear that Gard was far too professional to tell her anything further. My,she thought. Attractiveand discreet.
She decided to change the subject. “Thank you for the tea, by the way. Now what can I do for you? I don’t imagine you came here intending to let a relative stranger interrogate you about your previous lives as a Trill cop.”
“Oh, you’re hardly a stranger to me, Lieutenant,” he said. “I wouldn’t be doing my job properly if I hadn’t studied the files on everyone in attendance at this summit—or whoever was providing security for it. I know we’ve only spoken at a couple of general security briefings so far, but I’ve made a point of reading your rather checkered public record. I was particularly interested in your time with the Maquis, and your Starfleet mission to Garon II before that.”
Eight of her fellow crew members from the Wellingtonhad died on Garon II because she had disobeyed her commander’s orders. Ro would never forget that day, nor the years she had spent imprisoned on Jaros II because of it. Nor, apparently, would anybody connected with the Federation ever tire of reminding her of it. The anger the senior dignitaries had stoked within her over the past few hours suddenly reignited, though she did her best to rein it in. Fistfights among the security providers would only endanger the diplomatic guests.
Her reply was stiff and formal. “If you’ve really researched me as much as you say, then you have to be aware that there were certain…extenuating circumstances on Garon II.”
“Please, don’t misunderstand me, Lieutenant,” Gard said, making a placating gesture. “I’m not criticizing your past performance. In fact, I rather admire most of the decisions you’ve made throughout your career, if not your luck. Mavericks aren’t usually very popular with the top brass. But they know damned well they need people like us to get their dirty work done, don’t they?”
Hiziki’s reassuring words and gentle smile went a long way toward putting Ro at ease once again. “Not everyone sees it that way,” she said, nodding.
“Which brings me to what’s really on my mind. In reviewing the last six months or so of the goings-on aboard Deep Space 9—most specifically the rogue Jem’Hadar attack here about five months back—I have several concerns about the security for tomorrow’s treaty signing, and for the subsequent celebratory events.”
Now he’s second-guessing my job performance.Ro was just about to spit out a curt response when Gard held a hand out, palm facing her, as if to gently silence her. “Please do not in any way misinterpret my concerns. I, too, resent it when bureaucrats intrude into my work. But I was hoping that, as fellow mavericks, we might review the security plans together. Perhaps I can be helpful to you in ways other than keeping Ambassador Gandres and the other delegates from wandering about the station and getting underfoot. After all, we both have junior staffers who can do that.”
Once again, Ro’s anger dissipated. She was impressed. Gard was extremely smooth for a veteran cop. Perhaps all the time he had spent among diplomats—and the experiences of his past lives—had paid off. She realized that she might not only find his advice useful, but could also learn a thing or two about tact and persuasion from him as well. She had a feeling that such skills would be at least as valuable on Federationized Bajor as her Starfleet advanced tactical training.
“If you’d like, I can set up a formal security briefing for you first thing tomorrow morning,” she said. “In my office at, say, oh six hundred.”
“How about this evening? Over dinner?” His eyes glittered. Ro felt herself blushing slightly in spite of herself.
“Thank you for the offer, but I’ve already made dinner plans.” Ro looked across the room and saw Quark, still glowering at Gard from the other side of the bar. Following Ro’s eyes, Gard glanced toward Quark, then offered an understanding smile to Ro.
“Considering the caliber of Quark’s dinner company, I think his ego is needlessly fragile.” He rose to his feet, a small but provocative smile playing at his lips. “Oh six hundred tomorrow it is, then.”