Important guests would eat at long, rectangular banquet tables placed in two L-shapes mirroring each other; all tables faced the center of the room so every honored guest would be visible to every other honored guest. Additional invitees would be seated at smaller, more intimate circular tables behind the main tables. Seating decisions had been preassigned based on rank, delegation, and organizational and planetary affiliation. Since Kira had received the guest list, Beyer had learned of several old grudges still being nursed and a few badly ended romantic relationships that required a reassessment of some of those assignments, but for the most part, this was a group that knew how to behave themselves.
At Sirsy’s insistence, Kira sat between Admiral Akaar and the Bajoran government’s delegation. “A bridge between who we are and who we will be!” she’d enthused. Kira didn’t buy the symbolism. As station commander, she held a highly visible position, but this night—this reception—wasn’t about her. It was about Bajor and Cardassia’s tentative steps toward dealing with each other as equals. She didn’t want to distract from the task at hand on any level and she accepted that, to many Bajorans, she was a distraction.
She already knew that Shakaar had tapped Second Minister Asarem to deal with any Cardassian business that might follow the reception, while he, as first minister, would remain focused on the Federation talks. Though they’d met before, Kira knew Asarem mostly by reputation: a sharp negotiator who had campaigned for her present job by taking a hard line on all things Cardassian. Her party’s role in Shakaar’s coalition had been to represent the views of older, Occupation-era Bajorans who still favored a hawkish stance; Kira had heard gossip that Asarem had privately protested Kira’s role in helping Damar’s resistance during the Dominion War. Asarem felt that, regardless of the strategic value of undermining the Dominion’s stranglehold on the Cardassian military, a Bajoran national such as Kira shouldn’t serve the Cardassians in an advisory role: should complications arise, it would be too easy to blame Bajor or make accusations that escalated the existing bad blood between the two worlds.
Kira hadn’t seen Gul Macet since he’d visited ops. She assumed he’d been assisting Ambassador Lang. Since Macet had requested time on the program, Kira had contemplated—and worried about—what he or Lang might have planned. It’s probably nothing worse than a proclamation from Alon Ghemor or a plaque commemorating this “historic occasion.”But no matter how she tried to reassure herself, Kira remained uneasy. Cardassians irritated her.
No,she amended her last thought. Macet especially irritates me.
From out in the corridor, Kira heard the low buzz of chatter from the first group of guests to arrive. Shakaar’s enthusiastic voice rose above the noise. Seeing that the first minister would be serving as the gathering’s host, Kira was glad he had arrived before the others; she had no desire to play host, covering for his absence with small talk. Because Sirsy accompanied Shakaar’s party and she knew how the evening was to go forward, Kira could disappear until her presence was required. The room might be ready, but she still had a few items on her list before she could say she was finished. She discreetly moved to a position by the curtained turbolift and touched her combadge. “Kira to Ensign Beyer.”
“Go ahead, Colonel.”
“Report to the reception hall, Ensign. Guests are arriving and I don’t have a clue what to do with them,” she whispered, hoping she could go unnoticed for a few minutes longer.
“On my way, sir. I was helping Quark solve a replicator problem—”
“Nerys! What are you doing hiding behind there?”
She startled and took a sideways step to peer beyond the curtain. Shakaar stood directly in front of her, arms outstretched, with an exuberant grin on his face. So much for going unnoticed.
“Get out here,” Shakaar continued jovially. “I have people you need to meet. Come socialize! This is your night, too—this is Bajor’s night!”
Propelling her toward the group, he steered her past Sirsy and in the direction of a handsome black woman that Kira recognized from the newsfeeds.
“Second Minister Asarem, you remember Colonel Kira, your Militia contact here on the station? I know you two have met, but this is the first time you’ve worked together. Kira also plays a mean game of springball should you be in the mood.”
Minister Asarem nodded politely; Kira reciprocated.
Kira surveyed the guests, checking to see if there was anyone else she needed to greet, if any old friends had come calling. Behind Shakaar, a prylar she recognized as being a protégé of Yevir chatted amiably with one of the trade ministers. He must have sensed he was being observed because he looked up to see Kira and frowned; his eyes instantly shifted to a spot directly over Kira’s shoulder before physically turning his back to her.
When Yevir had first passed down his judgment, Kira believed she would gradually desensitize to the Attainder’s consequences. As one of the faithful, she understood her peers’ behavior and couldn’t fault them for following the edicts of their religious leaders. But each cold encounter still smarted and this last one had a sharper sting considering present circumstances.
Here in this room were former enemies, people representing repressive or violent cultures, those espousing primitive traditions and backward belief systems, and yet all worked to overlook what divided them and focus instead on their commonalities. And Bajor, pious, spiritual Bajor, couldn’t let go of punitive measures against one of their own for one night. This was supposed to be a reception celebrating Bajoran progressivism!
To Yevir’s credit, the Attainder was working. Being the conspicuous outcast in almost every room she walked into assured that she would never forget what she’d done, never stop atoning for her mistake and wasn’t that, in part, what it was supposed to accomplish?
At least Yevir himself isn’t here to add insult to injury,she reflected. He’d been on the original guest list, much to her consternation, but had been forced to bow out, citing some “Assembly business” that apparently superceded an official state function. Kira found herself wondering if the “Assembly business” was related to schism rumors Kasidy had told her about.
She felt Shakaar’s hand on her elbow again as he directed her toward the back of the room where the newest group of guests to join the reception stood: the half-dozen Cardassians.
“I haven’t met Gul Macet or Ambassador Lang, yet, Nerys,” Shakaar said cheerily. “I’d appreciate it if you introduced us.”
And the evening just gets better and better,she thought, putting on her most polite expression as she prepared to face the evening ahead.
With the servers dispatched to clear the tables, Ro decided to take a break from her scintillating dinner companions (a doddering member of the Alonis delegation, and the governor of one of the Klingon controlled Cardassian protectorates) and went in search of Quark. As she crossed the room, she spotted Kira chatting with Shakaar and the Cardassian delegation, the colonel somehow managing to look far more at ease within this gathering of luminaries than Ro imagined she would. Ro’s eyes panned the room as she went on, pausing to note Hiziki Gard, seated a few tables away, looking in her direction. The Trill ambassador’s aide—and her counterpart in Federation security—smiled pleasantly and raised his glass to her. Ro nodded back, accepting the compliment graciously: Nice work,he was saying.
She wound her way through clusters of servers milling around in the side rooms, diligently recycling used glasses and plates while replicating condiments and flatware in preparation for the next round. Quark’s bellows were better than sensors or tricorders when it came to tracking him down. The employees grew progressively more anxious the closer she came to where he was working.