Gleer snorted. “I should think my meaning is obvious. I’d like to know how we can be certain that the parasite crisis is indeed over. After all, twelve years ago—after the creatures temporarily seized control of Starfleet Command—the threat was thought to be ended. But this year they’ve managed to return, popping up on Bajorof all places. If these organisms can wreak havoc with the Federation’s newest inductee, then how can we really know we’re rid of them?”
The perspicacity of Gleer’s words was underscored by a renewed barrage of cross talk that erupted across the chamber. Akaar waited until it had died down before replying. “You raise a very good point, Councillor Gleer. At the moment, all we have is the testimony of Captain Benjamin Sisko that the immediate threat is over…and the complete absence of any evidence disproving that assurance.”
Gleer grunted derisively. “Far be it from me to doubt the testimony of the Emissary of the Bajoran Prophets,” he scoffed.
“What my esteemed colleague means,” interjected Mazibuko, shooting Gleer a sharp look before turning to Akaar, “is that the responsibilities of this Council to the people of the Federation require that we test those assurances, Admiral.”
“Agreed,” Akaar replied. “It should therefore please the Council to know that during the four weeks since the crisis on Bajor ended, all Starfleet databases, as well as those of local peacekeeping authorities, have been sent explicit declassified information about the parasites, including data gleaned from the encounters on both Deep Space 9 and Bajor.
“Additionally, Starfleet teams are even now reconstructing the travels of everyone known to have become infected by the parasites, in order to determine whether any residual threat yet exists.”
Charivretha zh’Thane leaned forward in her chair and spoke. “Admiral Akaar has so far neglected to mention that the Trill government has asked Starfleet and this Council to withhold from the public certain salient information, namely, the genetic similarities between the parasites and the Trill symbionts.”
Akaar found zh’Thane’s gaze and tone grating. Was she always this condescending? Or had he gotten on her bad side when he’d asked about her recall? “Thank you, Councillor zh’Thane,” he said, concealing his irritation behind a stoicism perfected by long decades of practice. “You have anticipated the next item on my agenda.”
“And have we accommodated the Trill government’s request?” M’Relle of Cait asked, his tail twitching absently near his right shoulder. The graceful felinoid seemed unaware of the tension between zh’Thane and Akaar.
“So far, Councillor M’Relle, neither the Federation Council nor Starfleet Command has revealed anything the Trill government has requested be kept secret,” Akaar replied.
President Zife cleared his throat quietly, bringing everyone’s attention back to the podium. “I have been in communication with Trill’s President Maz, who has informed me that her government is undertaking a full investigation of the parasite issue, including an exploration of the apparent genetic links between the parasites and the symbionts. She respectfully requests that the Council grant the Trill Senate adequate time to conduct these proceedings before taking any precipitate action regarding Trill. President Maz has assured me on her honor that she knows nothing more than we do at the moment.”
Akaar wondered briefly whether Maz was telling the truth about her personal ignorance, or was engaging in the time-honored political practice known across the quadrant as “plausible deniability.”
Having evidently got his second political wind, Zife continued. “President Maz has also informed me that her people are currently experiencing considerable domestic political stress. I believe this underscores the necessity of honoring her request. It is, after all, in the interests of this Council to help Federation member worlds to maintain domestic social stability—providing they can do so without violating the Guarantees of the Federation Constitution.
“I therefore recommend that this Council allow President Maz and the Trill Senate a reasonable period of time to complete their own public inquests into the parasite affair before we make any public statements—or calls for a censure vote of any kind against Trill.”
“Does the Trill government truly believe that news of the parasite-symbiont connection won’t become public before it completes its own investigation?” Rach asked, her crimson face a mask of incredulity. “I find that ridiculous. If I understand the admiral’s report correctly, dozens of people—perhaps even hundreds—already know all about this, from Starfleet to Bajor to Cardassia. It seems certain that the story will leak to the general public no matter what either the Trill authorities or this Council does.”
“The odds in favor of that eventuality are high indeed,” T’Latrek said. “Word of this willget out. It is just a matter of time.”
Akaar stopped himself from nodding as the councillors conferred all around him, conversing quietly with one another in low tones.
As the members of the Council began their official vote on the matter, Akaar found that he agreed wholeheartedly with Rach and T’Latrek. Whatever domestic political problems lay ahead for the Trill people, he hoped their leaders were prepared to deal with the havoc that was sure to be unleashed, once the secret of their relationship to the parasites stood revealed.
Stardate 53768.2
Looks like we’ve reached the bottom of the world,thought Lieutenant Ezri Dax as she stepped carefully over the vast field of scattered ice and stone. She didn’t think this place was quite as cold as the Tenaran ice cliffs could get during the dead of Trill’s northern winter, but it was certainly chilly enough to make her grateful for her insulated field jacket and gloves.
A persistent, frigid wind numbed Dax’s ears and the tip of her nose as she trudged forward, trying not to slow the away team’s progress. A dull, coppery sun hung low in a duranium gray sky, barely peeking over the huge slabs of ice-slicked rock that extended to the horizon in every direction. The flattened stones, some of which appeared to be more than three meters in length, were arranged at crazy, random angles, as though the spin of some great cosmic tongowheel had determined their final resting places. The slender rocky shapes cast long and sinister shadows that sometimes caused her momentarily to lose sight of the other members of the away team.
A streak of light near the horizon briefly caught her eye. At first she thought it was a meteor burning up in the atmosphere—until she saw it abruptly change its trajectory, obviously preparing to make a soft landing at one of the supply depots that dotted the lower latitudes.
Another cargo ship,she thought. The irony was inescapable; once an object of Cardassia’s insatiable lust for interstellar conquest, the planet Minos Korva—situated on the edge of Federation space just four light-years from the prewar Cardassian border—now served as one of the busiest transit points for aid shipments bound for Deep Space 9, the hub for all Federation relief cargoes bound for Cardassia Prime, the Cardassian Union’s war-ravaged heart.
As the evanescent streak of light vanished below the horizon, Dax turned her attention back to the frozen tableau that lay all around her. Minos Korva’s south polar region reminded her of a hurricane-battered cemetery. Despite her ambivalence about the notion of death and burial—an attitude characteristic of joined Trills—she found some comfort in the permanence of the image; though grim, it helped buoy her hopes that the object of today’s search not only was dead and buried, but also would forever remain that way. Like the legions of multilived Trill whose conjoined thoughts and memories eventually ended up, according to myth, enfolded safely but inertly within Mak’relle Dur,the Trill afterlife, deep in the bowels of the homeworld.