“I didn’t know that Capellans were interested in human popular culture,” Taran’atar said. “You are Leonard James Akaar, fleet admiral, Starfleet. I did not recognize you right away because of your tuck-seedoh.”
Akaar chuckled and raised a glass to his lips before responding. “I discovered long ago that human history and culture have much to recommend them. As they say on Earth, ‘When in Rome, do as the Romans do.’ Nowtell me—what compels one of the soldiers of the Dominion to sample the historic pleasures of one of the Federation’s founding worlds?”
“I’m not here in my capacity as a soldier. My current mission is one of peace. I’ve been instructed to learn all I can about the peoples of the Alpha Quadrant.”
“Yes, I have been briefed about the mission on which Odo has sent you,” Akaar said knowingly, then raised his glass toward Vic, who was listening attentively to the exchange. “You will find Vic to be quite a perspicacious host, Mr. Taran’atar. We do indeed have much in common, you and I. Though I confess to finding it somewhat strange that we both appear to be so at ease in one another’s presence.”
“I don’t understand,” Taran’atar said.
Akaar frowned. “You cannot be serious. Tell me—how many Jem’Hadar do you think I killed during the war?”
“I couldn’t say,” Taran’atar said, though there was no heat beneath his words. During war such things were to be expected. But now that the war was over, it was of no consequence.
“Tens of thousands,” Akaar said. “Perhaps a hundred thousand or more. Sometimes I did it from the bridge of a starship, or from a starbase wardroom, or from Starfleet Headquarters. And I dispatched many of them at close quarters, sometimes with a hand phaser, and on other occasions with my triple-bladed kligat.”Akaar fell silent, though he looked expectantly toward Taran’atar.
Vic winced as the tension appeared to escalate. “Fellas, please tell me you’re not planning on trashing my place. The guys in the band are still jumpy from all those times Worf went berserk in here last year. And I’m not paying the bouncers enough to even thinkabout going toe-to-toe with either one of you.”
Then Akaar laughed, a low throaty sound. He placed his right fist on the left side of his chest, then extended his palm outward toward Vic. “Be at peace, Vic. Like Mr. Taran’atar, I have come to this place with an open heart, and open hands.”
“Your experiences during the Dominion War interest me,” Taran’atar said. “But why tell me of the Jem’Hadar you’ve slain?”
“Because my aged ears overheard your discussion of faith, and it piqued my interest. Do you know why I have come here, Mr. Taran’atar?”
“To this lounge?”
“To this space station.”
“You are one of the Federation dignitaries who will bear official witness to Bajor’s entry into the Federation.”
Akaar nodded. “An action that, in itself, is an act of faith. When a world joins the Federation, it is a most serious occasion. A time of both celebration and contemplation. Of faith.”
Taran’atar recalled how carefully the Dominion’s Vorta managers had worked to optimize the usage of each newly annexed planet’s resources for the benefit of the Founders. But such things were merely prosaic facts of existence. They had been done with little ceremony or fanfare, other than the ordinary rituals and recitations that custom dictated surround the daily dispensations of ketracel-white.
“Again, I do not understand,” Taran’atar said.
Akaar sighed, as though he had just failed to convey the intuitively obvious to a dull-witted child. Taran’atar felt his frustration rising at his failure to comprehend things that these Alpha Quadrant natives appeared to grasp so instinctively.
“I have faith,” Akaar continued, “that the years of transformation which began after the Cardassian Occupation ended have prepared Bajor to integrate itself into our coalition of worlds. I have faith that an indissoluble bond will result between Bajor and Earth, Vulcan, Andor, and the scores of other Federation planets.”
Something occurred to Taran’atar then. “I noticed that you did not number your own world among those others.”
Akaar lifted a single ropy eyebrow. “Quite right. Capella has petitioned for Federation member status many times. But my countrymen are not yet ready, even after more than a century of civil war. They still have much to learn about the ways of peace.”
“Interesting. Until seven years ago, Bajor was in a permanent state of military occupation and guerrilla war. And yet the Federation has agreed to admit Bajor before Capella. Does this not anger you?”
Akaar’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment Taran’atar wondered if he would have to defend himself. But the admiral never moved. “If Bajor becomes a productive Federation member, it will bode well for other candidate worlds that have known the scourge of war during living memory. I have faith that Bajor’s success will one day lead to the same for Capella. Perhaps not while I live. But someday.”
Faith again. Taran’atar was beginning to find the concept most vexing. “But is not faith required only when no other factual basis exists for believing in a thing?”
Akaar downed the remainder of the contents of his glass, then fixed a steely eye on Taran’atar. “Precisely. Because we cannot know in advance what will happen, no matter how much we prepare. Consider Bajor again. There are some who believe that the Bajorans should not enter the Federation until after they make peace with their old enemies, the Cardassians, on their own. But there are many more who believe that Bajor is ready for membership now, and that peace with Cardassia will flow inevitably from her Federation allegiance. Both sides, however, are acting on faith.”
Taran’atar found that his own curiosity had been piqued. “On which side have you placed yourfaith, Admiral?”
An enigmatic smile slowly spread across Akaar’s face. “It is not my nature to advocate waiting over action. I believe Bajor to be more than ready for Federation membership, just as she is today. But no Capellan who hopes to live as long as I have believes that peace can everbe inevitable.”
This last was the first straightforwardly sensible thing Taran’atar had heard the admiral say so far. And he also intuited that it gave him an opening to ask another question that had begun nagging at him.
“Why did you not ask me how many humans Islew during the war?” Taran’atar said quietly.
Akaar’s expression suddenly grew dark, and Vic once again appeared worried. “Maybe we ought to steer clear of politics for the rest of the afternoon,” the holographic host said.
Taran’atar wondered with some dismay whether he had once again trodden across one of the Alpha Quadrant’s many indefinable social taboos. These humanoids seemed to hide them everywhere, like subspace antipersonnel mines.
He decided he could lose little by pressing on. “Perhaps it will ease your mind to know that I never entered the Alpha Quadrant during the war. I never fought against the Federation or its allies.”
Akaar’s glower was slowly replaced by a more thoughtful expression. He nodded. “Perhaps it will at that.” Then, setting his empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray, the fleet admiral made ready to leave.
Taran’atar perceived that an important opportunity was about to be lost forever. “May I ask you one final question, Admiral?”
Akaar paused, then assented with a sober nod.
“Would you have been as sanguine about my mission of peace had I slain many thousands of yourpeople during the war?”
The question appeared to surprise the iron-haired Capellan. For a protracted moment he grappled with it. At length, he said, “I do not know for certain. But I have faith. Therefore I do not need to know for certain.” And with that, Akaar bid adieu to both Vic and Taran’atar and was gone.
The Jem’Hadar stood mutely beside the crooner, who finally broke the contemplative silence by saying, “I hope that helped clear things up for you.”