The BLTS Archive - Nolo Contendre
First in The Layover Stories
by Blue Champagne (rowan-shults@sbcglobal.net)

---

I'm Blue Champagne.

I do not own these characters or these story settings. I do own the
dialogue spoken and the actions taken by these Paramount-owned
characters in these Paramount-owned settings.

Please do not post or print this story anywhere without this header.

---

Kira moved aside as Dr. Bashir crowded into the lift next to her with
a bulky piece of equipment. "Hello, Doctor."

"Major."

"What, uh...what have you got, there? Are you sure you feel up to
moving heavy equipment yet?"

"Oh, I'm...fine. Still rather bemused by the whole thing. All my
apologies again, by the way."

"You didn't have any way to fight that...thing, doctor. Don't blame
yourself." Bashir was annoying, but that was no reason to drag him
over a hot stove for something that hadn't been his fault. She knew
how she'd feel if her own body had been taken over by a criminal mind
and used to do the things his had.

The lift halted at the second level, and Bashir smiled and said rather
hurriedly "Nice talking with you, Major," and toted his big piece of
mechanical whatever out. She realized he had not told her what it was,
nor where he was taking it.

As soon as she entered Ops, Sisko saw her and beckoned her over with
an unexpected smile. "I get to give somebody good news, Major. Come
into my office." Curious, she followed him.

He leaned against his desk and picked up his baseball. "You, Major
Kira, have lucked out. You have at least a couple of days completely
removed from the insanity a Galaxy-class starship docked at our pylon
is inflicting upon us."

Her brows drew together. "How is that, sir? Won't you need--"

"The Bajoran government would like you to visit the Enterprise in a
diplomatic capacity, as a part of a demonstration of gratitude for the
Federation's assistance in the reconstruction of the aqueducts. They
gave me to understand that the request, and the function itself, is
not official; think of it as a friendly visit from the
Federation-Bajoran liaison of the station. But frankly, you'd be
insane to turn this job down."

A relieved grin washed across Kira's face. "I agree. I know for a fact
the provisional government wouldn't send ME into anything delicate,
so..."

"That's right. All you have to do--in fact, all you'd better do--is
chat up the officers a little. You know the drill."

"I know. Smile when I feel like snarling."

"Or punching. But it shouldn't come to that. The worst you'll
encounter is a few ensigns or lieutenants who may still have some
illusions about the glory of revolution and resistance. I certainly
won't hold it against you if you set them straight. Gently, of
course."

"Of course," Kira muttered, smirking.

---

"Are you sure you won't meet with me? Jean-Luc and I are going in just
a moment; my part will only take a couple of hours, and you wouldn't
believe the holosuites here. They have a relaxation program in which
you're bathed in a protein bath, then carried on a cloud of
chromovapor to a meditation chamber where--"

"Really, Beverly," Deanna said, "I'm still on shift on the bridge. I'm
not even sure I'll be beaming over."

The comm was silent for a minute, then Beverly said "All right, if
you're sure. I do forget that what might be relaxing for me might not
be so for you. You may be the only senior officer left on the ship."

"No, Will's here. The Captain will be busy most of the time, but he'll
be here in and out, and I don't think Data had any plans to beam over
at all."

"As long as you're sure. If you change your mind..."

"I'll find you, Beverly. Now go on and enjoy yourself."

"All right. Crusher out."

Deanna sighed. She might visit the station, but from what she
understood the place was still being held together with spit, prayer
and worry beads, and enjoying the quiet on the ship sounded more
enticing.

But the next day, after she was off duty and trying to distract
herself from Lieutenant Worf’s recent disturbing discovery about his
father, the Captain called her. "Picard to Troi."

Deanna raised her head from the open book she held, where she sat
curled up on her bed in a soft robe. "Troi here."

"Counselor, at the request of the provisional government, the station
is sending over their first officer and Federation liaison for a
visit. I offered to receive her myself..."

"No luck?" Deanna grinned.

"No. I'm still scheduled for that blasted presentation on the workings
and purposes of the aqueduct system. I know you were looking forward
to a bit of quiet, but you do seem the ideal candidate for this
assignment."

"It's all right. I didn't have any firm plans."

"Thanks, Deanna. I'll owe you one. We'll be leaving the station in
approximately six days; we'll meet with Mr. Worf and continue to our
next mission. The Bajoran liaison is a Major Kira Nerys, and she was a
fighter in the resistance. She may be a bit..."

"I can handle it, Captain."

"I know, Deanna, you always do. She'll be arriving in an hour in
transporter room four. Picard out."

"Troi out." Deanna sighed and stretched. Well, they would be here for
a few days at least, possibly a week; there would be time to read,
swim, lie around like a wet rag, whatever. She got up and went into
her bathroom to freshen up and change.

---

The station transporters were jammed with Starfleet personnel, both
station and ship crew, and Kira had a hell of a time getting to the
operators on duty, identifying herself, and verifying her clearance to
beam to the starship. She got her elbows into it and made it to the
pad; the "clear" light flashed, and she felt the familiar tingling.

When she could see, she was standing in a small, bright, relentlessly
cheerful transporter room facing a small, smiling, drop-dead beautiful
woman. "Major Kira," the woman said in a soft, clear alto.

"Uh. Yes," she said, gathering herself and stepping down off the
platform, taking the hand extended to her. "Commander...?"

"Lieutenant Commander Deanna Troi, at your service. Would you like to
go to your quarters and leave your bag, or start with a meal, a tour
of some particular area of the ship you're interested in...?"

"I...yes, I'll drop my stuff first, I suppose. They must have told you
there's no reason to go to much trouble; this isn't an official
ambassadorial visit."

"Yes, the captain did mention that. He'd still be meeting you himself,
but--"

"No problem at all. That's not why he's here."

"Shall we?" Deanna turned toward the door, nodding at the engineer
operating the transporter, and she and Kira headed into the corridor.

Kira tried not to gawk too much--it was just like the Federation
runabouts, she told herself, only bigger. There was so much space she
wondered where everybody was. "It's a little

sparse. Is everyone on shore leave?"

"No, only a few hundred people. We didn't want to send any more than
that over to you at once, for fear of clogging your systems and
facilities."

"Assuming they're not clogged or something already," Kira muttered,
still looking around.

"I've heard your refits aren't quite...complete," Deanna offered
carefully.

Kira snorted. "The Cardassians gutted the station with surgical
precision before they turned it over. Federation supplies and
personnel, and Bajoran crew, are all that stand between us and
asphyxiation, starvation, and a few other bodily ations that I won't
mention."

"Chief O'Brien always did very well for us. I'm sure he'll have things
working soon."

They got into the turbolift. "Deck four."

The lift started. They were quiet a moment, and then Kira muttered
"Must be nice."

"Nice?"

"Working on a ship like this. Lot of space. Everything works.
Well-trained crew, adequate supplies..."

The lift doors opened, and they stepped out; Deanna conducted her down
the corridor a few doors, and entered one of the cabins. Kira
followed.

"Don't forget comfortable quarters," Deanna said as Kira stared,
dropjawed. "You can put your things anywhere. The replicator's over
here; the computer has a menu of both food and non-food items this
replicator produces. If you need something it can't give you, simply
ask me. Your comm badges are compatible with ours, I understand."

"Yes...yes, they are." Kira unslung her bag from her shoulder and
dropped it on the bed. "If I'd known this was waiting I'd've hurried."

Deanna chuckled. "The bathroom's through that door, and if you have an
emergency of any kind alone here, yell to the computer and a team will
be here in a few moments."

"I consider myself taken care of, Commander, thanks." Kira grinned,
looking around at the room.

"Can I show you around, or would you like to rest?"

"I'd like a tour of the ship, if that's all right."

"Quite all right. Where would you like to start?"

Kira's lips twitched. "How about the bridge?"

"Of course. This way," Deanna said easily, stepping back out into the
corridor.

'This is unreal,' Kira thought, following her. 'If I ask her for my
own moon complete with life support, mansion and a staff of servants,
they'll probably find some way to get me those, too.

'And that's got to be the most gorgeous Commander I've ever seen in my
life. Maybe they keep her specially for things like this. When we get
to Engineering I'm asking to see the "special clearance only" section
and see what happens.'

But they didn't make it to Engineering that trip; they were barely
through the interesting points of the saucer section when Kira
realized it had been hours, and she was hungry, and dazed. As they
left the arboretum, she said "Commander, could we make a stop
somewhere for lunch? I'd like some time to absorb all this."

"Of course. We'll go to Ten Forward; it's essentially a restaurant at
the foremost point on this ship, on deck ten. A very interesting woman
named Guinan runs it."

The doors to Ten Forward opened to Deanna saying "It's usually a
little more crowded. Shore leave, and all. Would you like to sit by
the ports?" She led the way up to a table.

A young man in a checked uniform came up to them almost at once,
beaming. "Deanna, always a pleasure. What can I get for you ladies?"

"Hi, Ben. I'll have a Tamariian Frost. I haven't decided what lunch
will be today. Major, would you like a drink?"

Try this one, Kira thought. "Bajoran Spring Wine."

The man nodded pleasantly. "Coming up." He headed off toward the bar.

"So what do you think so far?" Deanna said. "It's a great deal, as you
said, to absorb at once..."

"I...can certainly see that the Federation has the resources to spend
on aid to Bajor: That your presence here will definitely be an
effective deterrent to the Cardassians."

Deanna only smiled again. "I'm glad you're reassured. Thank you, Ben."

As the glass of wine was set in front of her, Kira eyed it; the light
was coming mostly up through the translucent tabletop, and the liquid
in the glass was the right color, and the right consistency when she
picked it up and swirled it. She sniffed it and took a sip.

Bajoran Spring Wine.

"Prophets," she spluttered, "can you people do ANYTHING?"

Deanna turned her gaze to her own drink, took a sip of it, and said
"No, but I can see how it might look that way. I understand you were a
resistance fighter. You spent a very long time doing a great deal with
virtually no resources at all."

"That's right. And the Cardassians have left us almost nothing." She
stopped, took a breath and controlled herself. No reason to snap at
this woman simply because she wallowed in luxury on a regular basis.
Kira took a deeper swallow of wine.

"I sense some resentment, Major," Deanna said softly, and Kira looked
at her, then looked at her again.

"Your eyes. You're Betazoid."

"Only half. My father was human."

"So is this your job, then? Keeping visitors happy?"

Deanna pursed her lips and looked into her drink. "No, I'm...a
Commander, not a hostess, though we all play host from time to time.
You said you were hungry; I am too. Do you know what you'd like? The
table can display a menu if--"

"How about hesperat?"

They did get to the drive section, but only for an hour or so; it was
getting late, and Kira was approaching the point of relative maximum
absorption. As they headed back to Kira's quarters, the Major said "I
could use a hot bath. Don't get the opportunity on the station much."

"Well, your tub can be set to provide relaxing currents at any
temperature. Simply speak to the room environment control computer."

Kira shook her head fractionally, staring at the ceiling, silent.

Deanna was forced to stifle a laugh, bending her head and folding her
arms, trying to keep silent.

"What?!" Kira demanded.

"You...you're absolutely aghast at the level of comfort you see around
you. You don't know whether to laugh, cry or--excuse me--throw up."

Kira grimaced, and stepped out of the lift as the doors opened.
"You're Betazoid, all right." They proceeded to Kira's door.

"I'll leave you alone for the next while. When you're awake in the
morning, contact me, and we'll have breakfast--or you can breakfast
alone in your quarters, if you like. If you would like
anything--music, holoprogramming--"

"I know, I know. Just ask the room environmental computer." She paused
outside the doorway, extending her hand. "Thank you, Commander. You've
been very informative and very courteous." 'Under circumstances in
which I doubt I could have been either,' she thought, 'if she can
sense my emotions that well.'

"That's quite all right, Major. I enjoyed today. I have a few things
to take care of on the bridge; if you need me--"

"I'll call. Goodnight." She stepped backward through the doors and
felt a wave of relief as they shut over the visage of this powerfully
beautiful and painfully polite creature from the Land of Prophet's
Love.

"I've gotta lie down," she muttered, then remembered the bath. Equally
enticing. She picked up her bag and went into the bathroom.

Relaxing in the bathtub, listening to Het Mecal of Qoran province
playing a soft etude, surrounded by the scent of iaka trees and the
red-gold light of a Bajoran sunset, she wondered who she'd finally
wind up killing on tomorrow's foray into the world of tra-la-la
flowers-in-the-spring diplomacy. Hopefully not the Commander. She
looked like she'd break too easily to provide much satisfaction.

Meantime, enjoy the bath. She slid down in the water and closed her
eyes.

---

Breakfast, which she had in her quarters after contacting Commander
Troi to let her know to go ahead and eat, consisted of excellently
replicated breakfast cakes and a mug of raktajino. She was meeting the
Commander in the third-deck gym, as Deanna had said she had a morning
workout routine she'd like to share with the Major.

She followed the computer's directions and found Deanna almost alone
in the broad white room, going through a martial arts routine in front
of a mirror. She was wearing a stretchy white outfit of absorbent
cloth, a similar outfit of which she offered to Kira, pointing the way
to the changing room.

When Kira returned, testing the seams and other possible limitations
of the outfit, Deanna said "I've warmed up, but you might like to go
through the series of Mok'bara moves with me again. Not that I can
teach you much in this amount of time, but you might find it
interesting."

"Sounds good."

She followed Deanna's lead; she was familiar with training the muscle
memory--the monks of certain orders followed a similar discipline--and
had expected it to be harder than it looked. It was. This big-eyed
porcelain doll is tougher than she looks, Kira surmised, raising her
opinion of the Commander a notch.

"What did you call this again?"

"Mok'bara. Our Lieutenant Worf teaches a class. It's the most common
Klingon hand-to-hand combat form."

"Klingon, eh? No wonder I'm sweating."

"Would you care to spar a little, or are you a follower of any
particular--"

"Yes, I am, and sure I would. It's always interesting to exchange
methods; increases your flexibility. How do you begin in Mok'bara?"

"We take this stance, about--" Deanna moved to a certain spot on the
mat and said "this far apart, and say 'defend yourself', but in
Klingon, which makes my throat hurt."

"We'll settle for 'defend yourself.' Call it?"

"All right."

Kira was on her back in two seconds. "How'd you do that?" Deanna
demonstrated the move, and let Kira practice on her. The whole
sequence happened a few more times, and then Kira said "All right, how
about this. We'll go through the warm-up for Anjisal, and I'll flip
you around a little."

Deanna laughed and agreed. The two forms turned out to be so
dissimilar that there wasn't much point trying to adapt the moves of
one to the other; they settled for learning a trick or two each. After
a particularly hard slam to the mat, Deanna begged to quit. "I'm
fagged, and if my hair comes loose, and it's about to, I'll be
blinded," she muttered as they went toward the changing room.

"It's very pretty," Kira said cordially.

"Thank you. I didn't think you'd appreciate such an impractical
style," Deanna said, pulling off her suit top. "Give your clothes to
me; they're a set of mine."

They were pretty close to a size, Kira noted as she removed the outfit
in the spotless locker room and piled it on a bench with Deanna's. "On
the contrary. I was so attached to my hair I kept it all through my
time in the resistance, and you better believe it got in the way on
occasion. When they made me an officer I cut it shoulder length, but
it wasn't very flattering, and something of a pain to deal with, so I
just cut it all off."

"I'd look twelve years old if I did that."

"Not in the heels you had on yesterday, you wouldn't. Where do we wash
up?"

Deanna laughed and beckoned. "Through here." There was a bank of sonic
showers along one wall in the next room, and as soon as they were both
clean they got into their uniforms, Deanna picking up the armful of
fabric, and left the gym. "We'll stop by my quarters so I can leave
these," Deanna said. "What's for today? Would you like to finish your
tour of the drive section?"

"Actually...I'd like to spend some time talking with you. About life
in the Federation, life in Starfleet."

Deanna nodded. "Very practical. Will you be making a report after this
trip?"

"Of a sort. Sisko's gonna grill me about whether I destroyed
Bajoran-Federation relations permanently."

Deanna grinned. Kira realized that not only was it impossible to make
this woman angry if she decided she wasn't going to be, she also had
the ability to laugh at a comment without ever making the listener
feel mocked; the Commander projected an impression of being on your
side.

This woman deserved closer attention.

They arrived at Deanna's quarters, and Troi headed for the laundry
chute. "Shall we talk here? Or we could go to Ten Forward, the
arboretum, any number of--"

"Here is fine. I might like to take some notes..."

Deanna vanished into another room and returned bearing a PADD. "You
can transfer any notes you take into your own computer. For that
matter, you can keep that PADD; there's plenty of Starfleet property
on the station as it is, and you are a sort of goodwill ambassador
from Bajor."

Kira chuckled at the incongruity. "I still can't get over it. Me, a
'goodwill' ANYthing."

Deanna smiled and gestured Kira to the couch. "I'm getting a cup of
hot chocolate. Would you like something?"

"I'm fine, thanks."

Coming back and sitting down, Deanna said "Do you have any specific
questions?"

"Well...you said that I was frustrated, disgusted by the level of
luxury that exists here, as compared to the station or Bajor. You were
right, although I hope you know I intended no insult to you
personally."

"I know. It's all right." That had not been quite what Deanna said,
but the counselor chose not to mention this fact.

"I know that life in the Federation and life in Starfleet are two
extremely different things; resources from many worlds and cultures go
into the building of ships like these. I'm also aware that this is the
flagship of the Federation, and most ships aren't this luxurious or
large."

"That's true."

"I suppose the question I'm getting to is...is all this really
necessary? I know that exploring deep space is the most uncertain job
one can get, and certain perks are only to be expected, but this...why
aren't these resources being used somewhere they're more urgently
needed? There are so many worlds, so many sentient species, in the
Federation. Surely there must be some places...like..."

"Like Bajor?"

"Sort of, yes, but in the Federation. Your own people."

"You make a valid point. We are very well-treated by the Federation
Council. But we also devote our lives, work extremely hard, for
positions such as this. We're chosen for our proficiency at our work,
our ability to withstand great physical and psychological stress--"

"Physical and psychological stress is going days without food, losing
a limb to a disruptor blast, watching your family be murdered. I've
made a radio out of a battery, a piece of steel wire and a few pieces
from a Cardassian tricorder. I've made do on as little as four ration
bars per ten days. I've had infections that would make you gag just to
see them simply because there was no water for washing.

"We fought the Cardassians off, finally--at unbelievable cost. Like I
said, we were left with almost nothing. And now the Federation
establishes a presence on the station that is the gateway to the only
real resource we have--the wormhole.

"I'm sure you've heard the slogan 'Bajor for Bajorans.' I wouldn't go
that far. But I would like to know this; what good does it do to throw
out one occupying empire only to INVITE some even more powerful
organization in? And beyond that, one in which so much is taken for
granted that its influential powers cannot hope to identify with what
Bajor has been through? The Federation's headquarters are on Earth.
Earth is a paradise world. That much I know."

Deanna sat with her eyes locked to Kira's. "So angry," she whispered.
"So much pain..." She sat up a little straighter and said "To answer
your question--or rather, perhaps, respond to your statement--we do
not wish to take your planet from you or use its resources for
anything but restoring what you had, what was damaged. We are not an
Empire. In fact, you have no obligations toward us, but we have taken
on many responsibilities toward you.

"I think the reason you are so angered by what you've seen is...the
thoughtlessness you believe is here. Someone described it as the anger
the hungry feel when the full go by, unthinking. We are not
unthinking. And those of us on Starfleet vessels, at least, can expect
to sacrifice a great deal. I sense that you're upset--guilty. Probably
you're sorry for what you said. You don't need to worry about it." Her
eyes were hypnotic, and her voice...

Kira took a breath, closing her eyes. "Maybe I am sorry I...put it
like that. After all,

you're not personally responsible for any of this. I've been holding
it in for a while. But I can't help but feel that this excess
is...excess. I stand by what I said."

"Cultures differ. Yours has always been very spiritual; now, after the
Occupation, all the honest labor your people can possibly produce
can't give you a materially sufficient life--you have almost nothing
but your faith to sustain you. Thus, your tolerance of 'excess' has
gone even lower than your religion usually holds it."

"I'm sure that's partly true, but in the name of the
Prophets--holodecks, replicators in every set of quarters, large
gymnasiums and game courts, a sickbay that ensures you won't have to
deal with even the slightest case of the sniffles, counselors to run
to when things get a little difficult--"

"The counselors advise the Captain, as well."

"If Federation Starship captains need that much advice..." She trailed
off, a horrible suspicion growing in her mind.

A slow smile spread across Deanna's face.

Kira stared a moment, then groaned as Deanna began to cackle with
glee.

"I should have known, the way this conversation’s been going. I'm
sorry, Commander. It was nothing personal."

"Call me Deanna. There's another component to your anger; the
resources you see here. You're used to many things, staples and basic
requirements of life, being very rare commodities. Hoarded, defended,
even killed and died for.

"In the Federation, we value and respect the necessities of life, too,
and the importance of making sure that no one is without them. We
respect the people, things and resources that have allowed us to
devote ourselves to things other than basic survival; and we care for
those things and people, and preserve them, as well as we can. It's
not heaven, it's far from perfect, though I can see how it might seem
ludicrously too good to be true, to you.

"In your particular case, what you have been through means that you
consider anything above subsistence to be a luxury. And from your
point of view, you may be right."

"So my point of view is just skewed."

"Not at all. Many theories have agreed with you over the
centuries--many kinds of concepts and ideas, psychological,
sociological, biological. I only meant that you may want to consider,
in the future, how much your perceptions are being colored by your
past--but that can be said of everyone, including me."

"Who does the laundering of your white rista-skin gloves, Commander?"

"In your case I went to Brigid, one of the Terran goddesses of the
forge."

Kira, eyes locked with Deanna's, suddenly laughed, almost clapping her
hands. "I don't intimidate you one damn bit, do I?"

"Because I actually appreciate your directness. And angering you
doesn't worry me, because my place here is to be honest with you,
not..."

"Kiss my butt?"

"That's one way of putting it, yes."

"Do you mind if I get myself a cup of raktajino?"

"Not at all."

Kira went to the replicator and said "One raktajino, sweet." Bringing
it back, she sat down--on the same curve of the couch as Deanna this
time--and said "There isn't much I can tell you about my life; I was
born into the artist's d'jara, though that doesn't mean much any
more--"

"The d'jaras were your...system of social structure before the
Occupation, weren't they?"

"Yes. My parents were taken--I met up with my father later, but he
died while I was on a raid--I went into the resistance and became an
undercover operative, got shot up and went without. Nothing that makes
uplifting hearing."

"Then why did you bring it up?"

"Because I want to ask you about YOUR life before you joined
Starfleet. I'd like to know the person who made that speech about
perspective a minute ago."

Deanna smiled. "I was born a daughter of the Fifth House of Betazed,
part of our only remaining nobility. There were six houses, an
oligarchy governing our entire planet, for several hundred years.
Then, as we made greater interstellar connections, laws were repealed
and passed, and our government changed; the governmental functions
were given to the Fifth and Sixth, we being more egalitarian Houses,
with members having partial or no noble blood at all. One can be a
member of the Fifth or Sixth houses by marriage, election, or birth.
Members by election have the most legislative power. My mother--she
and I are Daughters of the house, members by birth--is an Ambassador
of the Federation; before that, she was the Betazoid Ambassador to the
Federation Council."

"You said your father was human."

"Yes. He was a Starfleet officer. He loved my mother and me very much,
but my memories of him are a child's; he died when I was seven. I was
able to visit my human grandparents, though my mother's family wasn't
pleased with that."

"Then they probably weren't pleased with her marriage."

"They weren't, but my mother is comparable to a force of nature."

"Which explains your presence thousands of light-years away from her."

Deanna grinned, openly gleeful. "In part, yes."

"So you were raised as a...noblewoman."

"Of a sort. There are things those of the Houses are expected to do,
and in the early years of my life I did them. When I made the choice
to join Starfleet and be an explorer like my father, I was just
finishing college, psychology, on Betazed. Yes, everyone was upset
about it, but I was of age, and they couldn't say no."

"Sounds like you're something of a force of nature yourself."

Deanna grinned. "Since the non-consummation of my arranged
marriage--the groom's idea, not mine; I applaud his bravery, and if
you knew the details, you would, too--my family has, for the more
part, stopped trying to tell me how to run my life."

"And you've been in Starfleet ever since."

"Yes. The Academy, and then assignment here. I was told I'd got the
Enterprise assignment because my academic record and stress and
competency tests merited it, but I suspect it was my empathy. I was
the only even partial telepath in that program at the time, except for
a Ba'elian, who required a ship with a liquid environment."

"Yes, your empathy...you don't sense thoughts, then, only feelings?"

"I can receive images, even feel as though I AM the individual I'm
receiving from, but those occasions are rare, now, unless I invite
them. You see, I'm an incomplete telepath, but an oversensitive
empath, apparently a result of the crossing with human DNA. The alien
cultures I had to learn to read accurately, the sensations--" she
shook her head. "In short, there was a great deal I had to teach
myself." She grinned. "I was not always a force of nature. I used to
be quite retiring, but..."

"All that's changed, yes, I noticed." Kira stared at her a minute,
then said "I see what you meant about not being 'unthinking'."

"I didn't mean only myself by that statement."

"I know." Kira took a sip of raktajino and said "Is it...possible--I
suppose I mean permissible--to discuss any of this ship's missions in
which you were extensively involved? I'd be interested to know what a
Federation exploratory vessel can expect to meet in the course of a
day."

Deanna's mouth twisted in an attempt not to smile. "Some of them are a
matter of public record. Some of them I don't have clearance to
discuss. Here, come over to the desk..." Deanna went to the computer
and started keying up subjects, then specific logs.

An hour or two later, Kira was gaping "Your CMO had to KILL you to
break that telepathic link?"

"Yes. You see, Alkar saw the killing of his 'receptacles' as justified
by his work as a mediator. But the Captain wouldn't let it go at
that."

"Well I should damn well hope not."

"And Alkar would not break the link for anything less than the death
of the receptacle."

"Was this before or after you were impregnated by the alien you still
don't know anything about?"

"Well after. Alkar died fairly recently, and Ian Andrew--" Deanna
smiled wistfully. "He came into my life, peacefully, and left just as
peacefully, some years ago."

"And the time your subconscious mind was the only method of
communication between the Enterprise and the ship caught on the other
side of the...what was it, Tychen's rift?"

"That fell between those two occasions."

"And everyone would have gone insane and murdered each other if it
weren't for you sending that ship a message...in your SLEEP."

"In all probability, yes, unless Data could somehow have saved us,
which looked doubtful at the time."

"Wow." Kira sat back on the couch. "I abjectly apologize, Commander.
You people may be too cerebral for my taste, but...you deserve your
perks."

Deanna laughed, shaking her head. "That isn't what it's about at all.
It's years of study on reactions and levels of productivity that
decide the environment the designers try to--"

"I meant you personally. By the Prophets, I would have killed that
piece of...the one who messed with your memories. He'd have been in so
many pieces--"

"His punishment, we were told, was quite severe. And I wasn't the only
one he violated."

"No, but you were his favorite target, and you were the one who fought
him off long enough for him to be caught."

Deanna shook her head. "I had a great deal of help."

Kira pondered. "I can't say my opinion about the Federation Presence
here has completely changed--I still view it as a necessary evil--but
I will grant that Starfleet isn't only a vast collection of
condescendingly beneficent regulation-quoting people who have no idea
how well off they are."

"Please," Deanna said, "you're too kind. We'll become simply
unmanageable if you talk that way."

Kira laughed, suddenly and long, and so did Deanna.

"Ah, ahem, hm," Kira managed to say. "I guess that did sound a little
grudging."

"A little? It was a barehanded toothpulling."

"Commander--Deanna--what would you say to a visit to the station?"

"I thought you were supposed to be over here, being diplomatic for
Bajor, or something along those lines."

"I can't see a liaison taking her host on a visit of the property in
question as not being a--"

"All right, all right. Spare me the diplomacy babble; you don't do it
very well."

"Why, thank you."

---

"The wormhole will be opening to let a Tholian trader through in
twenty-three minutes," Kira said, touching the disconnect on the
computer link. "We can watch it from the promenade. Come on."

Her PADD tucked in her belt--and she had, in fact, made quite a few
notes on it--Kira conducted Deanna down to the Promenade level. "These
levels are where the businesses of the station operate. A lot of the
revenue that the wormhole generates for Bajor is, at the last,
generated here."

"It's certainly busy," Deanna noted, rather unsettled, as sentients
from a dozen different worlds crowded by; most of the crowd was
Bajoran and Starfleet personnel, of course. "Where do you accommodate
those who can't use some sort of technology to adapt to the
environment?"

"We converted some of the processing centers to adaptable-environment
guest quarters, but we haven't used them yet; visitors like that have
to stay aboard their ships, so far, and conduct their transactions
through stages. Chief O'Brien won't allow the quarters to be used
until he's satisfied with the safeties, and he says they have a long
way to go. Speaking of which..."

"Counselor!"

"Chief!" O'Brien had appeared out of the crowd, carrying a tool kit
and looking like six kinds of hell, uniform ripped and filthy, his
yellowy hair everywhere.

"Counselor, good to see you. I can't talk now, but I'll tell Keiko and
Molly hello for you, and take care of yourself. Keep that phaser hand
up, eh, Cap'n? See you on the Essex." He winked and took off into the
crowd, barely giving Deanna time to extract her hand from his. She
rolled her eyes at his parting comment.

"'Keep that phaser hand up?'" Kira said slowly.

"A...misadventure we had together, on the Enterprise," she said. "The
chief deals with these things...oh, never mind. If you're really
curious, I'll tell you about it later. I don't want to miss the
wormhole opening," she hinted.

Kira galvanized and said "Of course. This way."

Leaning against the port, they both stared at the stars for a moment,
the bustle behind them imperfectly reflected in the transparent
surface.

And the wormhole opened. It lasted for a few seconds; then it was
over, and there was nothing left to see but the stars.

"I have seen many beautiful astronomical phenomena," Deanna said. "And
that matches anything I've seen. Thank you for...making sure I didn't
leave without seeing it."

"Not at all."

They were quiet for a moment.

A small child crashed into Kira, who crashed into Deanna, who fell
against the port. The child's father rushed up, apologizing profusely,
and Kira got up and took Deanna's hands, pulling her up. She nodded
perfunctorily to the child's father and waved them on their way. "Just
try to keep hold of her," Kira said. "We've got enough chaos on this
station right now." As the two moved away, the father scolding softly,
Kira looked at Deanna. "Are you hurt? You took most of that on your
elbows."

Deanna said "I'm not hurt, but it certainly took care of my sense of
awe."

"It didn't do much for your hair, either," Kira said, and reached for
the loose ponytail of curls hanging down the counselor's back. "May
I?"

"Yes, please. We cerebral Starfleet officers aren't supposed to look
disheveled in uniform. Not without a good reason, at least."

Kira did her best to retuck and retie Deanna's hair, and said "That's
all I can do with it. It looks pretty much like it did before."

"Good. I'm hungry; where do you like to eat on this station?"

"I'm not particularly fond of eating anywhere on this station if there
are replicators involved, but there's a Bajoran restaurant that uses
real, naturally grown food."

"Can't the Chief...?"

"He's only one man, staff or no. Unfortunately, he's got to think
about the air and the gravity before he worries about the food. Are
you up for a little walk? The restaurant is nearly on the other side
of the Promenade."

"That's fine. Maybe I'll walk behind you; my elbows are a bit sore."

"Ha ha, except you're right, maybe you'd better."

They made the trip around 180 degrees of the promenade; sightseeing
was slightly limited by the fact that neither of them were very tall,
but judging by Deanna's whimsical smile as Kira pointed out the top
halves of things, she didn't consider the walk wasted time.

The Bajoran restaurant was packed, of course, but for Major Kira
arrangements were quickly made, which Kira had been counting on.

Deanna unrolled her menu. "Heavens. Is any of this in Standard?"

Kira eyed her a moment. "Do you like hot food?"

"Yes, but my idea of hot is probably your idea of bland. If you're
planning to order for us both, please keep that in mind."

Kira grinned. "All right." The proprietor herself came up to take
their order. "Major," she greeted Kira, smiling. "So good to see you.
And who is your lovely guest?"

"My lovely guest is Commander Deanna Troi of the Starship Enterprise.
Deanna, this is Ansar Neprim."

Deanna offered her hand, and after the greeting was accomplished Kira
ordered for them. A couple of glasses of wine were brought to the
table by one of the waiters as soon as Ansar disappeared with the menu
scrolls.

Deanna sipped. "This is delicious. I don't have the Captain's
discriminatory palate when it comes to wine, though."

"Trust me. This is delicious. Probably my greatest dietary weakness."

"How does it compare to what you had on board?"

"Hard to say. Everything seems so...sterilized, on board your--I'm
sorry, that was pretty uncomplimentary, wasn't it?"

"I tried to say this before, but you probably thought I was being
polite--I love the way you say exactly what's on your mind, even what
could be construed as uncomplimentary. It's what I grew up with, and
it saves me the trouble of having to correlate what you're saying with
what you're feeling."

Kira nodded. "I can see that."

"So the Enterprise is 'sterile'," Deanna said, running her finger
around the rim of her glass. "What would not be sterile? The station
here?"

"This place's a long way from sterile, but that's not what I meant.
Maybe I shouldn't have said anything..."

"It's all right. Again, it's all in what you're used to." She seemed
to be pondering something, her brows drawn together, her full lower
lip slightly protruding. "Beverly--my friend, the CMO who had to kill
me--was trying to finesse me onto the station, before this assignment
came down from the Captain. She was talking about holosuites more
complex than our holodecks; relaxation programs involving chromovapor
and meditation chambers. Is there anything to such rumors?"

"Yes. And Quark's probably booked through the week, with your ship
here."

"Would that be a problem if I were to ask you to procure some time for
us?"

"Oh, hell, no."

Deanna smiled at Kira. "Good." She took a sip of wine.

'Am I reading things right, here?' Kira wondered. She focused her
thoughts--and emotions--on her initial stunned appraisal of the
counselor's beauty, poise, and wit, and Deanna's smile got even
broader.

'I guess I am reading things right.'

The food arrived. Deanna was cautious about everything, but Kira had
decided to be gentle with her, and they both enjoyed the meal
thoroughly.

When they were done, Kira added everything to her tab, over Deanna's
protests, and said "I have a few bottles of that Spring Wine, various
vintages. Come to my quarters with me and let me guess which one you'd
like best, and I'll see about getting us a few hours of holosuite
time. I doubt I'll manage anything sooner than tomorrow."

"We have time. The ship should be in port for nearly a week." As they
left the restaurant, Nerys took her hand to guide her through the
throng.

Once in Kira's quarters, the Major said perfunctorily "Sorry it's not
any cozier. I never developed the habit of accumulating things."

"No, I can see why not." Deanna sat down on the couch and Kira went to
her desk terminal. She was there for a good five minutes, then said
"This may take some time. Here." She opened a trunk at the foot of the
couch and surveyed the contents, then pulled out a bottle and unsealed
it, twisted the wax seal and pulled the cork out with it.

"On Earth they use a special tool for that," Deanna said, accepting
the full glass. "A 'corkscrew'."

Kira said nothing, merely grinned and returned to her computer.

About ten minutes later, she said "We have three hours reserved in
holosuite four, tomorrow afternoon."

"How did you...wait. I don't want to know, do I?"

"Probably not. It might toast your Starfleet sensibilities a little.
I'll just say the people who lost out on the time are not your
compatriots, nor anyone else you need to waste worry over. So how was
my estimation of your palate? Good?"

"Very. This is different from the wine on board or at the restaurant."

"Those were both a lowest-common-denominator vintage, not that those
aren't good. But this one's a little sharper."

"Yes. And stronger, if I'm not mistaken."

"You're not." Nerys sat down next to Deanna with a glassful of the
wine. She took a sip, then a gulp. "This Federation liaison stuff is
turning out to be a lot more fun than I thought it would be."

"Good." Deanna giggled. 'Uh, oh,' she thought. 'The giggling stage
already. I'm going to make a fool of myself.'

Kira looked at her a minute, at the flush rising in Deanna's pale
skin, and said "You're not used to real wine, are you?"

"Mm. No. But you won't have to pick me up off the floor, don't worry."

"I'm not worried." Nerys knew the smile she was wearing could only be
described as fatuous, and tried to do something about it, but it
wouldn't be budged. "Why do I get the feeling that this sort of thing
is unusual for you?"

"Probably because it is. And it's unusual for you, too."

"How do you know that?"

"Oh, I can tell." Another swallow of wine; she set the glass down on
the floor by her boot, and said "I suppose one should take one's time
to appreciate wine of that quality..."

Kira knocked hers back, set her own glass down. "Let's leave the
qualitative analysis for later. It's getting late; we should probably
get back to the ship. I'm supposed to still be there." 'While we can
both still walk,' she added to herself. "Shall I bring another vintage
along?"

"Oh, don't waste your stock. We can replicate real wine, as well as
the synthehol variety." Deanna stood, and tottered slightly.
"Goodness."

"You'd better lean on me." Kira sidled conveniently up to the
counselor.

Deanna draped an arm across her shoulders. "Thank you. There is
something to be said for flat shoes, even though I look everyone on
the ship in the stomach when I try to wear them."

Kira shrugged, catching hold of Deanna's hand to keep her arm stable.
"Tilt your head."

"Stiff neck." By this time they were in the corridor, and soon were
crowding into the lift to ascend to the main level. Nerys wrapped an
arm around Deanna's waist and they got a few sidelong looks, and
grins.

As they headed for the transporter stations, Deanna was shaking her
head. "This won't do. If I were an ensign or even a lieutenant..."

"You wouldn't be the first Starfleet Commander to get tilted on shore
leave here--"

"But I'm not--what did you say, tilted? Literally, perhaps, but--oh,
good. We're nearly there."

Kira called to one of the operators "The coffee from the section two
replicators isn't agreeing with the Commander--I'm taking her back to
her quarters on the ship."

The operator nodded and waved them up; when the pad reached capacity
the light flashed and they disappeared.

They rematerialized in the main transporter room. Deanna disengaged
herself from Nerys and smiled brightly at the operator as everyone
who'd been automatically routed here filed off the pad. "Lieutenant
Gomez."

"Counselor," Gomez nodded.

Out in the corridor, Nerys was chuckling. "Huh. Starfleet decorum."

"In case you've forgotten," Deanna said with a small amount of
falsified haughtiness, "I'm supposed to be on duty. Staggering back
aboard is fine if one's been on shore leave and one's left enough time
to sober up for one’s next shift--"

"Oh, for the love of--"

"Deck four," Deanna cut in as they stepped into the lift. "I noticed
your effort to help cover my exposed decorum. Thank you."

"It was a pretty plausible explanation. Commander Sisko is always
spitting his morning cup across the pit in Ops."

"Really?"

"Well, not literally."

They passed Kira's door. "Come on to my quarters," Deanna said
offhandedly. "I've got to get out of this uniform. I don't remember
the collar being this tight when I put it on."

"What’s tight is—"

"I keep telling you, I'm not--here we are." They entered and Deanna
tapped the door lock on her way through. "Oh, get this thing off
me..." she vanished into the walk-in closet.

"Glad to oblige, if you'd hold still for two minutes," Nerys muttered,
sitting on the bed.

"Oh, are we getting impatient, now?" Deanna said from the closet.

Kira started. "Good ears?"

"No. You know how I can tell," came an almost coy reply.

Kira started to get up and head for the closet--if that was how they
were going to play it--but Deanna stepped out just as she reached it,
in a sleeveless garment that Kira couldn't exactly identify as either
a dress or a nightgown. It was blue, shimmery, and left her back
completely bare.

Nerys stopped dead, once again a little shaken, not only by Deanna's
appearance, but her presence. Her personality was a palpable force in
the room, and Kira was used to her own personality being the loudest
one present. This was getting better all the time. She grinned, and
ran her finger along the curved, plunging neckline. "Nice material."

Deanna grinned back and brushed past her to go to the replicator. "Two
glasses of champagne, chilled," she said, and the fizzy drinks
materialized. "Computer, half-lights." She handed a glass to Nerys,
who took one sip, examined the glass, then took another one, more
slowly.

Deanna was sitting on the bed, tucking her bare feet under her. "Come
sit back down. What sort of music do you like?"

"Mind if I ask for it?"

Deanna smiled and waved a go-ahead, then sipped from her glass.

"Computer," Nerys said, paused, and continued "play...something soft,
like harp music, from Betazed."

A liquid rippling filled the room, and Deanna raised her eyebrows.
"Excellent choice. Incidentally, this is my favorite harp composer.
Eluwenna Relailian."

"Pretty name."

"Our spoken languages are sadly underused; I speak them--I mean,
actually talk in them--more than any other Betazoids I know."

"That accounts for your accent."

"My mother hates it."

"Wing-slugs on your mother. I think it's beautiful. I think you're
beautiful."

Deanna leaned forward, as though imparting a secret, widening her eyes
and whispering, breath flowing directly across Nerys's mouth, "I think
you're beautiful, too."

Kira started to make some wiseass remark concerning her own
appearance, but Deanna kissed her too fast. She probably planned it
that way, Nerys thought. It's like she knows what I--but then, she's
an empath...

The kiss broke finally, and Deanna reached past Nerys to set her glass
down. She took Nerys's glass and set it down, too, within reach. She
slid one arm around the other woman's waist and whispered "All right?"

"More than all right." Kira cradled Deanna's face in one hand and
kissed her again, sliding her other hand down Deanna's silken back.
She pressed Deanna gently back and slid up onto the bed, lying close
to her.

Deanna's dress was pulled down around her waist, Kira's hair was a
wild shock, and she was moaning into Deanna's mouth when Deanna
finally gave up, pulled her mouth free and said "GET this thing OFF!
Please!"

"It's one piece--"

"I know, I can TELL, here, sit up--"

They got rid of Deanna's dress while they were at it, and gooseflesh
broke out over Kira's skin. Mistaking the reason, Deanna attempted to
say "Computer, increase ambient temp...mm..."

"Request unclear. Please repeat," the computer said.

"No, please don't turn up the heat in here," Kira panted and descended
onto Deanna again.

"Computer, disre...ahhh...disregard," Deanna whimpered, barely.

The computer chirped an acknowledgment, but it was drowned out by a
startled half-gasp, half-moan from Deanna and a satisfied sigh from
Nerys.

---

Kira was tracing patterns across the front of Deanna's torso with her
fingertip. "So."

Deanna smiled pleasantly. "So."

"I'm in bed with a pampered-noblewoman, Starfleet senior officer, who
happens to be, of all things, a 'counselor'."

"And how do you feel about that?"

Deanna sprang from the bed and bolted for her office door as Nerys
lunged for her.

Safely on the other side, Deanna accused "You set that up! Admit it!"

"I wanted an excuse to chase you around naked. Open the door."

"No more tickling?"

Nerys sighed. "No more tickling."

"Promise?"

"What I promise is that if you don't open this door--"

"Riker to Counselor Troi."

Deanna's hand slapped the lock and the office door into her quarters
swished open; she and Nerys had pretty much identical now-what looks
on their faces. "Ahem. Troi here." At this, Nerys's grin threatened to
split her face.

"Are you all right, Deanna? I've called your office twice."

"Oh. Sorry. I, I left my comm badge in here and, the Bajoran liaison
and I were--"

"Indulging in the melding of the flesh," Nerys whispered. Running with
this, Deanna tried "Discussing Bajoran language and euphemisms. It was
VERY absorbing."

"It must've been. We had an appointment half an hour ago to discuss
Ensign Pellaro's performance record. I waited fifteen minutes for you
before I called."

"I AM sorry, Will, it completely slipped my mind. Can we reschedule it
for--"

"Come on, Deanna, I'd like to get my day over with; it's nearly
twenty-two hundred. I'm already on my way there."

Nerys was already back in the bed, but she jumped up again, her wide
brown eyes searching for possible escape routes.

Deanna started "NO, Will, it isn't--"

The door chirped.

Deanna and Nerys looked around, at the scattered bottles and glasses,
the remains of various Betazoid, Bajoran, and Terran delicacies (such
as the tiny dish of caviar lying face-down on the rug), a complexly
designed bottle of rose-scented massage oil, a Bajoran uniform and the
shreds of an azure nightgown, and the three wet bathtowels strewn
around the area. And then there was the general aroma, spiced up,
rather than hidden, by the rose oil.

Deanna sighed and let her head droop, then slid back in bed and
motioned Nerys in with her. Looking uncertain and suppressing a
somewhat hysterical smile, the Major complied and they pulled up the
covers.

"You know my door code, Will. Come in."

"Deanna?" The door closed behind him as he looked around at the mess,
then across the semi-partition to the other half of the quarters. His
eyes got as big as the Bajoran Sacred Meld pillows lying on the floor
by the bed.

"Will," Deanna said from behind Nerys, who was holding the covers in
firm position, "this is Major Kira Nerys of Station Deep Space Nine,
liaison officer to the Federation from the Provisional Government.
Nerys--oh, come here, Will, we won't bite you--this is Commander
William Riker, first officer of the Federation Starship Enterprise.
He's a good friend of mine. Will, shake her hand, she's been holding
it out for about ten seconds now."

Will, still looking like a 6'3" blue-eyed insect, began to smile and
took Kira's hand, bowing slightly. "Major Kira. A pleasure to meet
you. I...trust our counselor's been taking good care of you?"

"Oh, absolutely," Kira nodded energetically. "She's been showing me
around, explaining the Federation presence here in more detail, that
sort of thing."

"I...forgot about your extra duty," Will said, trying to get his
eyelids to approach each other at least a little as he addressed
Deanna politely. "Why don't we have our discussion about Ensign
Pellero at a later time...?"

"Tomorrow, over breakfast," Deanna supplied quickly. "The usual time
and place."

"That sounds fine. Again, Major, good to meet you."

"And you, Commander."

As the doors closed behind him, Deanna and Nerys locked eyes, then
emitted simultaneous shrieks of laughter and went into hysterics.

Red-faced, Nerys gasped "You're right. He's a DAMN good friend."

"Oh, we've known each other since I was in college. We were lovers,
but that was years ago."

"Then the present you just gave him is even better than I thought."

"What?"

"Come on, what do you think'll be going through his head for the next
MONTH, probably? I mean, he's already got the full recon data on one
of us and a fair perimeter scope on the other, no thicker than this
sheet is."

"Good point," Deanna said, trying to swallow, wiping her eyes.

---

The crowd was thinner, according to Kira, at the upper Promenade level
entrance to Quark’s, and she said it'd be easier to find each other
there; Deanna had been grateful, since lowering her shields enough to
sense the Major in such a crowd might have made it impossible to
navigate.

Rather than mess with the lift, Deanna was hurrying up the stairs to
the upper promenade level; she was almost late, due to a minor crisis
over what to do with her hair. Eventually the crisis resolved itself
as she ran out of time to worry about it, and was forced to settle for
fastening the thick mass at the nape of her neck with a gold filigree
clip. Tendrils and curls were escaping everywhere, bouncing as she
moved.

Nerys had mentioned being extremely favorably impressed by Deanna's
back, using some ancient Bajoran words Deanna had to ask her the
meaning of, so the counselor was wearing a rose-pink dress that tied
behind her neck and scooped down in the back to her waist, with a
hemline of handkerchief points around her knees. Her flat slippers
matched the dress's color.

"Excuse me, I'm--" Her shoulders were grabbed and Deanna realized she
had just tried to push past the very person she was on her way to
meet. "Nerys! I'm sorry, I thought I was going to be late, and--"

"You are, by two or three minutes," Nerys smiled, releasing her, "but
I can recover. You were right; you'd better keep that hair, and wear
it styled on duty. And wear the heels. You do look young. And
ravishing."

"Thanks. So do you." She wasn't just being polite; she had expected
Nerys to show up this afternoon in her uniform--she couldn't have had
much time between the end of her duty shift and the hour for which
they'd reserved the holosuite--but the Major was wearing a
forest-green jumpsuit of some velvety material that hugged her body,
but left some give at the joints; it had a jewel neck and no sleeves.
She was wearing her uniform boots. Well, Deanna thought, can't have
everything. The color of the suit set off her hair and fair complexion
beautifully, and she had on a slightly more elaborate earring, with a
red stone set in the cuff.

"You should have seen the look on that little troll's face when I
showed up to make sure our suite would be open."

"He noticed you weren't who was originally scheduled?"

"He couldn't give less of a crap about that, as long as he gets paid.
No, it's that I've never, during or after the Occupation, been in one
of those holosuites. And he's tried to get

me there, believe me. And when he sees who my guest is his eyes are
gonna fall out."

"I'm sorry, I should've worn my uniform. Make a point of calling me
'Commander' when we go in."

Kira giggled. "Oh, perfect. That'll be PERFECT. He's been desperate to
figure me out for a couple of years; this'll make him insane."

"Glad to help."

Snickering and muttering to each other, they began to work their way
through the shore-leave crowd up to the bar, and get one of the
attendants to verify their appointment, load their program and unlock
the suite, since the iso-rod lock at the door of the suite they'd
booked was currently broken.

"So what program did you reserve for us?"

"I'm not going near Quark's stash of twisted pleasure--your doctor
friend with the lethal hypo is gonna be surprised when she finds out
what goes on in that meditation chamber, if she hasn't already."

Deanna got a horrified look and said "Oh, poor Beverly! Nothing too
awful?"

"If she's not interested she can end the program." Kira held up an
isolinear rod. "Don't worry, this'll relax you plenty. I borrowed it
from a friend of mine, Jadzia Dax."

"The big Trill you introduced me to outside of Ops? She seemed so
serious."

"She is, but I've got a feeling it's a cover. This IS her seventh
lifetime. Can't you tell if she's...?"

"Trill are difficult even for full Betazoids to read; reading them is,
according to my mother, similar to doing the same sort of correlation
I mentioned that I have to do between people's feelings and their
words. I personally couldn't tell anything but that she was in a good
mood when we met."

"I've never seen her in a bad mood. QUARK!"

Deanna, Quark, and the general area all jumped at Kira's staccato
bark, but the bar smoothly resumed its original level of subdued
chaos. A Ferengi that Deanna assumed was Quark dropped something as he
spun, let whatever it was lie, and hurried up to them. "Major! Prompt
as usual, I see--oh, but who is your *lovely* friend?" He made an
obsequious bow toward Deanna, as far as the bar in the way would
permit.

"Commander Deanna Troi of the Starship Enterprise," Kira said with a
half smile. Quark sure had made that easy.

After an almost unnoticeable pause during which the Ferengi controlled
his shock, he said "A pleasure, Commander; Federation officers are
especially welcome at my humble establishment."

"They always pay their bills," Kira explained, "and they don't break
the furniture." She handed the rod to Quark. "This better be what we
find running when we get up there, you opportuning pervert."

"Of course, of course, we only aim to please here at Quark's.
Holosuite number four," he said, tapping a terminal, "will be unlocked
and ready when you arrive. Standard control phrases begin, end,
freeze, restart, and--"

"We know the drill. Stop that, Deanna, he'll get paid when we've had
our three hours." She folded Deanna's hand back over the credit chip
it held; bemused, Deanna returned the chip to her pocket and followed
Nerys back toward the stairs that led to the holosuite level.

"What is this program? Something from Trill? I hear they have an
ancient and beautiful public bath there."

Kira stopped. "That's exactly what it is."

"Beverly had a dalliance with a Trill, and she mentioned it to me--one
of the things he would have liked to show her, she said, but he had an
abrupt change of host--which she had to conduct--and that ended the
relationship."

"I can see why. I forget the name of the place, but it's located over
an area of natural hot springs, she says the place attracts people
from all over the Federation. I told her I wasn't interested in an
orgy, and she assured me it was nothing like that."

"Nothing?"

"Well, no more than we wanted it to be." She put her arm around
Deanna's waist. "I thought we might be enough for each other in that
area. But if you would...rather..."

"No--no. Telepaths and empaths...generally aren't very interested in
that sort of interaction with holograms. It's like using
an...implement that moves and talks. Very disquieting."

Kira smiled. "Yeah, I can see that."

Kira started to release Deanna as they made for the stairs, but Deanna
held onto her arm. "Please. I'm getting a few looks, and even with my
shields at full strength I can tell what thoughts are behind them."

"Sure." Kira gave her a squeeze as they started up the stairs,
threading their way, but without letting go of each other for a
second.

Outside the door, Kira tapped her code, and the door opened. They
stepped inside, and the door closed behind them, the control bank and
arch vanishing.

Steam was everywhere, and there was the warm sulfur-mineral smell
common to the sort of hot springs that attracted various humanoid
species throughout the quadrant. Even Vulcans--even Klingons--saw such
places as naturally- and spiritually-linked sites of release,
cleansing, and renewal, although Klingons liked the experience to hurt
a lot more than most other species did.

Deanna began to feel warm immediately; she could almost hear her hair
curling up more tightly. There were several doors in the chamber,
which was lit with a soft amber fixture in the wall; the light pulses
moved steadily, soothingly along a delicate framework of transparent
material. Steam tendrils ghosted, writhing, through the chamber.

A man and a woman--Deanna classed them so for simplicity's sake,
despite their utter lack of living emanations--emerged from the
doorway, or hole in the rock, on their left. They wore extremely
little, which she supposed was the practical thing in this
environment.

"Welcome," began the Trill woman, with an elaborate arm gesture, but
Kira raised her hand and said "I'm sure the niceties and polite forms
are very interesting, but our time is limited. We appreciate the
welcome."

The attendants nodded. "Would you prefer male attendants, female,
both, or do you have a preference?" The man asked.

"Female, please," Deanna said.

The man bowed and retreated, and four women, garbed as the first
attendant in off-white towellike material wrapped around their bodies
here and there, entered through one of the other doors. Two approached
Deanna and folded their arms through hers, Kira receiving the same
gesture, and they were conducted through one of the steaming holes in
the wall.

Later, after lying for half an hour in a steaming mineral pool while
being serenaded by music played on a stone flute--producing a gentle,
mournful whistling like wind over an empty bottle; soothing, formless
sound to it--they were gently helped out of the pool by the attendants
and conducted to a chamber where they were seated on porous stone
benches. Gradually cooler water was rained gently across them out of
containers resembling watering cans, held by the attendants. Soon the
red flush had faded from Nerys's skin and mostly from Deanna's,
without any sudden temperature-change trauma. This also conveniently
rinsed the minerals from their skin and out of their hair; there must
have been a binding agent in the water to remove them.

They hadn't said much in the pool. In the pool were various
carved-rock supports, for various sizes and shapes of people, that,
combined with the high mineral content of the water, made one feel as
if one was floating weightless, with none of the stiff-neck problem
one often encountered in hot baths.

They were now being dried with soft towels, with gentle
professionalism, by the attendants. "How are you feeling?" Deanna said
softly.

"Can't you tell?"

Deanna seemed to pause a moment, then changed her response to "You
feel rather silly, even if relaxed, and you feel guilty for feeling so
relaxed."

"I..." Nerys shrugged helplessly.

"I know." Deanna touched her arm, lightly. Then the attendants, who
had disappeared, were replaced with new ones, who draped soft tunics
across their shoulders and showed them to another goldenly lit room,
this one slightly cooler--which was not to say cool--vented with
windows near the ceiling that let in night air, and the rustling of
something--it sounded like grass, but at the volume of trees--soft.
They were helped up onto well-padded tables, where their tunics were
abruptly removed, but the attendants maintained such neutral attitudes
of professionalism neither Deanna nor Nerys was even startled.

Invited by the Trill attendants to lie facedown on the tables, they
began to receive the first gentle strokes of a light oil massage. "Do
either of you have preferences of style or technique? Are either of
you susceptible to damage from a moderately firm massage? Be advised
that we are not programmed at the level of a physician's
discrimination, though we recognize obvious signs of danger in any
bipedal species thus far guested here."

"I think we're both healthy enough for whatever you've got," Kira said
ofhandedly.

"Then in matters of preference? Is there any bodily area or muscle
where you would like special attention, where you require none, or
where you would be displeased by moderately firm massage?"

"We are both well enough. Perhaps you should keep the massage to a
lighter level. Nerys, is there a musical piece you would enjoy?" She
looked belatedly at an attendant. "Can you provide Bajoran music for
my friend?"

The attendant nodded, smiling. "Of course. What do you think she would
like to hear?"

Deanna looked over at Kira, and said "I think...something
meditational. Something to help her achieve a trance."

The attendant leaned down near Deanna's ear and whispered "We must
access the holosuite computer. There will be a small additional
charge. Four slips of latinum." Deanna nodded. "That will be fine."

Kira's head jerked up. "What did he just swindle--"

"Nerys. It's only four slips of latinum. I'd spend that much on a good
chocolate soufflé."

"You would?" Kira, puzzled by that but too relaxed to make much of an
issue, slumped back to the massage table.

Deanna nodded to the waiting attendant, and a sound started filtering
through the room, a low hum with a few harmonics mixed in. Deanna
didn't know that much about music, even less about Bajoran music, but
the Major seemed to go boneless almost immediately.

"That was an excellent selection," Deanna whispered as the massages
resumed. "What is it?"

"The Revelation of Tebril Ferechm," Kira mouthed blurrily from her
table.

With every muscle, pore, and follicle content to the point of coma,
they were left lying in a soft nest of cushions, silky covers, and
gentle, green and golden, gradually increasing light levels.

Very gradually, but Deanna noticed it in a few minutes, as she waited
for Kira to come around on her own. Not going to happen, judging by
the evidence. "Nerys." She began to kiss her way along the other
woman's collarbone, let herself be pulled in as Nerys inhaled and slid
her arms around the counselor.

Deanna whispered "Come on. We can go sleep some more in your quarters,
or mine, or even your quarters on the ship. I don't think we’ve had
the pleasure of trying those yet."

Nerys began to giggle into Deanna's collarbone. "Dax was right, I..."
she stirred slightly, then dropped off again. "Nerys." Deanna gathered
the major to herself, rolled over

on her back, and sat up.

"MM! What, is--" Nerys blinked, and said "Oh." She looked around at
the nest they'd been left in, and said "I can guess how we're supposed
to finish this."

"You're so puritanical. Perhaps we're only supposed to relax and
absorb the experience until the program time is over."

"I didn't say I had a problem with how we're supposed to finish this."

"But as loose-limbed as you feel, maybe we should start getting into
our clothes now; there's less than half an hour left in the program."

"You're so puritanical. That's plenty of time."

"No, let--no, let--Nerys, let go. Oh let go. Nerys--" Deanna rolled
firmly away from the other woman.

Nerys sulked. "Oh, all right. We'll go on to...your quarters on the
ship."

"Good. Here, I'll show you a few of the Mok'Bara stretches; they might
help us feel more like moving."

"Do you see our clothes anywhere?"

"Up on that bench."

In a few minutes, two attendants came in and helped them get into
their clothes and used various beauty implements and substances to get
them looking, Deanna thought, even better than when they came in.

Deanna's hair was just fastened in its filigree clip and they were
ready for the world again as the attendants bowed. "We hope you have
enjoyed your stay, and will return. There are many variations in this
program, and it is our wish that you enjoy them all."

"Um, thanks, Kira muttered, and at that instant the room vanished, and
the door appeared.

As they started back out, Kira said "Look as languid as you know how.
That'll drive Quark nuts."

"No problem. I haven't felt this languid in a while."

With their arms draped around each other, hips swaying and eyes
slitted, they proceeded down to the bar, smiling. The Ferengi waiters
and half the bar patrons--even a few of the women running the gambling
games--stared, or whistled, or turned to hurriedly face the other way.

The effect on Quark was everything Kira had hoped for. He dropped
Deanna's credit chip twice, the isolinear rod once, and his practiced
obsequiousness as soon as he saw them, and he never did get that back.

As he handed back Deanna's credit chip, Kira intercepted it and handed
it back to Quark without even looking at it. "Bad idea, Quark. As long
as her ship's docked here, she's with me. Don't forget that."

Sullenly, Quark reinserted the chip in the computer slot, pulled it
back out, and handed it to Kira. "I won't forget."

"See that you don't."

As they left the bar, arm in arm, Deanna whispered "How did you know
he overcharged me?"

"I didn't. But with Quark the odds were a lot more than even."

Back on board, rather than going to Deanna's quarters immediately, she
pulled Kira off toward another part of the ship. "Where are we--"

"The holodecks. I know, we just got out of one. But this will only
take a moment."

"You're the boss."

Outside one of the holodeck doors--two holodecks were free at the
moment, owing to the suites on the station--Deanna said "Computer,
ready holoimaging scanner, portrait mode."

"Enter when ready."

The doors slid open, and they stepped into the echoing gridded
chamber. Deanna, holding Nerys's hand, headed directly for the center
of the room. "Computer, replicate four permanent image mounts to
receive scans."

The computer chirped again.

"Am I getting my picture taken?" Nerys asked in concern.

"We both are," Deanna smiled. "Computer, background..." she looked a
question at Nerys.

The Major tilted her head a moment, then said "Grassland. Like my
family's lands used to be on Bajor."

Deanna seemed to waver a moment, smiling sadly at the floor, then
nodded. "Background, open park."

"Indicate readiness for scan."

They looked sidelong at each other, smiled, and joined hands. "Ready,"
Deanna said.

There was a chirp. Deanna said "Save that to two of the image mounts.
Then save our separated images to the other two mounts, modified as
appropriate for single portrait."

Another chirp.

"End program."

Four small objects sparkled into being on the floor nearby, round,
silver, with a couple of indentations on the sides; Nerys assumed they
were control switches. Deanna went to pick them up, and Nerys leaned
down to help, taking two of the objects from her.

"I could have had them labeled," Deanna said softly as Nerys pressed
the indentation on one of the objects she held.

There they were, projected in three dimensions from the lit base, the
image barely even transparent, holding hands and smiling at each
other. She tried the other one and saw an image of herself, relaxed,
hands folded behind her back, gazing pleasantly outward.

"That's mine," Deanna said, and traded with her.

---

Nerys was awakened at some otherwise silent hour--about an hour after
midnight, according to Deanna's clock, which she hadn't reset to the
station's twenty-six hour day--by there being nothing there when she
rolled over. She'd better get used to her own bed again quickly, or
she'd be rolling onto the floor every night. Then again, one time
would likely cure her. "Deanna?"

"I'm over here. I didn't mean to wake you." Deanna was at her desk
terminal with a cup of something steaming by her elbow; bluish light
shone past her hair and shoulders.

"What are you doing?"

"Just catching up on some things. According to these reports and
records, you were in the Shakaar resistance cell itself."

"How dare you check up on me," Nerys raged, venting her incalculably
wounded pride by yawning and pulling a pillow over her head. "Come
back to bed."

"I wasn't checking up on you in particular. Your name is simply
mentioned in a few places, among many other names. I have had no
direct contact with the, how shall I put it, Matter of Bajor; owing to
the new Federation Presence and my unfortunate tendency to wind up
handcuffed to the captain when he's assigned duty such as this, I
thought I should become better informed."

"Are you his...what, like a tactical officer? You advise him on
strategy?"

"That's one way of putting it. I'd be more likely to say that I simply
supplement his own diplomatic skills, though I'm not a passive
presence unless protocol requires it. I've had to interrupt him a few
times; he doesn't mind, because I can tell if the people we're talking
with are becoming suspicious or angry or frightened well before he
can."

"And you've been with him six years? The man is going to be a
diplomatic basket case without you."

"That's what he says, too."

Nerys pulled the pillow from her head. "You sound worried."

Deanna shook her head. "Just musing. He hasn't lost his own instincts,
but he might think he has, depending on how things go for him after
I'm not around."

Nerys put her feet on the floor and padded up behind Deanna. "At least
you know your former Captain will have his act together without you.
The other cell members and I...Shakaar was a great leader as long as
the shells were falling, but put him into a peacetime situation and
guess what? The man has no charisma, he mumbles, he--well, actually,
he used to mumble his way through mission briefings, too, but he
already had us on his side, so it didn't matter."

Deanna turned the chair, offering her lap to Nerys; the Major settled
in gingerly. They were close to the same size, but this still required
a high level of cooperation. They giggled and swayed, clinging to each
other, until they reached equilibrium. "And what about you?" Deanna
asked. "How are you adapting to peace? You've spent your entire life
at war."

"Twenty-six years of it, yes." Nerys stared into space a minute, then
carefully got up, pulling Deanna back with her to the bed. "Before you
ask, no, I don't expect I can ever be the person I would've been, born
into one of the very highest d'jaras--a lot like you, in fact. But I
didn't exactly lose anything since I never WAS a trusting little girl,
I never trusted anyone until I was in the resistance."

"Not even your parents?"

"I could trust my parents to love me, but not to protect me. Anyway, I
was a horrible embarrassment to them, having no artistic talent at
all. No, I learned to trust a fully charged rifle, and then--maybe--a
reliable hiding place; then I joined the Shakaar and started working
on trusting people."

"And how are you doing?"

"Not bad. For having had to kill as many people as I have. Most of
them were Cardassians, but some of them weren't--and a few of them I
trusted...but I had to back the resistance.

"I couldn't make allowances for common weakness; I couldn't afford to
put myself in someone's place, and wonder, or even know for certain,
if I'd do what she'd done, in her place. Like--I couldn't fail to
report someone stealing food from the supplies, even if the punishment
was...you see, we couldn't just throw scavengers out of the hideouts,
they could have gotten enough food to keep their family alive for a
year just by turning the location in, and we certainly had no way to
support a prison system…"

"So what did...my God."

"I always sort of wondered who that little girl would have been, who
she would have grown up to be. Happier than I am, certainly. I like to
think she'd have been like you--professional,
compassionate...following a code of honor, by choice, rather than one
of survival, whether I liked it or not. I'd like to think that, given
the luxury of doing the moral thing all the time, I'd have used it.

"But that would have been weakness, for me, the way things did turn
out. That kind of thinking, and behavior, would have destroyed the
resistance."

Deanna embraced her tightly. "I know that there are some things
nothing can change, nothing can mend, in your heart; that there is
only one time of life for the formation of those things, and that time
is over." She looked away. "And that no matter how old you are, some
things, even if you knew about the existence of such things...once
you've experienced them...you're never the same."

She pulled back and gazed into Nerys's deep eyes. "But you have, at
the very least, held on to your sense of decency. Many aren't strong
enough to do that. You are still a civilized person; and you have some
chance to continue to heal."

Deanna's light-sensitive eyes could see the moisture standing in
Nerys's. "You don't know," Nerys whispered, in a low, brittle tone.
"And anyway, how do you define 'civilized'?"?

"I do know," Deanna said firmly. "No, I wasn't there. But I know
what's there in you. I sense your emotions, your changes of mood, your
responses to things. It's not too late."

Nerys, in desperation, kissed her. And it was hours before they got to
sleep again.

---

"All right," Nerys said, shifting in her seat a little and resettling.
"I give up. How did you manage it?"

"Manage what?"

"Enough already. I was good all through Sisko telling me about this
day-trip he'd approved for me, that I had to pretend I knew about;
I've been good all day. Now before we get back to the station you're
going to damn well tell me who you bribed to get me a day of leave to
visit Bajor."

"I asked my old friend, Will, if he thought he could speak--"

"Will!? That Will? Who's known you since college?"

"Yes. Will Riker. He spoke to the Captain--and the Captain asked
Commander Sisko if you could be released from duty for a brief time,
as you had achieved a remarkable rapport and level of understanding
with me, the officer assigned to host you."

Kira stared, then laughed. "Does your Captain know that our rapport
and level of understanding has a lot to do with animal attraction?"

"I don't know, but I doubt it. Your Commander, on the other hand..."

"Yes, we weren't really that secretive at Quark's, crowd or no crowd.
That explains the look on his face. But I guess he thinks any rapport
I achieve with any part of the Federation can only be good."

"Since you and he haven't achieved much of one."

"Oil and water."

"Mm."

Nerys sighed. "And all you had to do was ask your old friend Will."

"Don't forget the present."

"The present wh--oh, that. Yeah." Nerys smirked. "He's probably trying
to create a holoprogram even as we speak."

"No, Will has too much class for that. He'll keep it confined to his
imagination, or I'd never have let him in."

"I should never have doubted you," Nerys murmured, nestling her head
against Deanna's shoulder--into a cushion of soft black hair--and
closing her eyes.

They were silent a while in their four-seater biped cubicle, empty but
for themselves. There were holos on the walls, rather than windows,
and Deanna watched a turning spiral galaxy with many attendant nebulae
for a while, then touched a switch, and gazed across blue mountains
and green forests rushing by. Nothing but the best when you have the
higher-ups behind you.

"Your Captain," Nerys whispered, shifting again. "You've been with him
six years."

"Yes."

"The way you say that, it's with some pride. I know you care about
your shipmates. But I--tell me if I'm just putting my own experience
onto you--you really love him, love your mates."

"Your fellow cell members."

"Yes," Nerys agreed, easy with Deanna's immediate comprehension.

"Yes, I love him, and my fellows. Captain Picard has shown me nothing
but his trust and confidence since I first came aboard the Enterprise.
I was afraid, and with many good reasons, as you know. I'm no coward,
but--"

"I'd've been afraid, too," Nerys said with conviction. "Go on."

"He is...a very private man." She smiled at some internal joke. "But
he never failed to speak to me of his thoughts and concerns, to ask me
for my perspective--and then, if he thought it proper, to reject it in
favor of another plan--and he never tried to hide his fear or his pain
from me...or almost never. He listens to me—and he talks to me. He
doesn't always take my advice, and he doesn't always think I'm right.
But he doesn't decide that because he chose against my advice last
time means that he should choose against it this time."

"He just...trusts you. He knows you're for real, worth listening to."

"Yes. He values me greatly. And so I value him greatly, and we..." She
sighed. "I am his Counselor. He is my Captain."

"So you get junkets with your current flames, and--"

"Stop that." Deanna's voice was low, but so intense that Nerys sat up,
turned and looked at her. She immediately knew her rudeness and was
ready to apologize, but Deanna, who could doubtless tell that, spoke
anyway.

"You are not a 'flame'," Deanna said, "I've had those, and I know the
difference. I know that this cannot but end soon. But you...I hope
always to know you, remain friends with you, even if it is, for the
more part, at a distance."

Deanna paused, sighing. "Yes, I wanted to see some small part of Bajor
with you. I wanted to give you some small gift before our time
together is, for a good while, over. But--"

"Wait, wait. I see that. I'm sorry, this isn't some... Federation
officer and her current mistress getting favors from the Captain. It
was only a joke, I was..."

"Defensive."

"Yes. I was." Nerys looked a little asea.

"Can I take that as a compliment?"

Nerys studied her face, realized that the question was completely
serious.

"I think you can."

The rest of the trip just flew by, even though the quarters were
confining; and Deanna said she could put the holoscreen Nerys's boot
dented on the Starfleet chit along with their passage, since this was
a business trip, so that was all right.

As they disembarked the shuttle, they came through the portal to see
that there had been a decided drop in the station's population--most
noticeably, the only Starfleet uniforms they saw were standard station
jumpsuits, not ship uniform like Deanna was wearing.

"Uh, oh," Nerys murmured and touched her badge. "Kira to Ops. What's
the Enterprise's status?"

"Waiting for their last few people," came Dax's voice. "There's still
a dozen or so left on the station, but the last leave is over in two
hours."

"Thanks, Dax. Kira out." She turned to Deanna. "I...have something for
you, but I happen to know the wormhole's opening in the next half hour
or so. Would you like to see it again before you go?"

Deanna smiled. "I'd love to. Where's the best view?"

"The near upper pylon, no question."

"Then let's go there."

As they rode the lift up, Deanna, swinging her souvenir bag around to
her other hip, slid her arm around Kira's waist and pulled her close.
They kissed all the way up.

Or almost; Kira stopped the lift before it could reach the top. "The
Enterprise's docked at this one, there'll be maintenance crew up at
the top levels who don't need to be bothered. We can see as well from
this level, we just need to get out to where the ports are." They
exited the lift.

"How dark and ominous," Deanna said idly, looking around at the dark
and ominous architecture.

"The Cardassians like it that way. It looked this way all over the
station before--"

There was an almost impalpable shooshing vibration and she was slammed
from both sides and railroaded down a side tunnel almost before she
knew she'd been grabbed. And she HAD been grabbed, not punched or
otherwise attacked; the two were holding her arms, then apparently
realized they'd lose her that way and began trying to get her face
down on the deck grating.

"Nerys!"

"DEANNA!"

Down the shadowed corridor, all Kira could see, as she struggled with
her own attackers, was Deanna grappling furiously with a single
assailant. Kira finally managed to get some position and she stamped
the foot of one of them with her boot heel; as the arm was released,
she swung back with an elbow into whatever might be back there. There
was a whuff of expelled air, she got her other arm free and spun to
face the two. She saw the gleam of a knife down the hall, where Deanna
still--

She lost all her own air as she was tackled again; enough was enough.
She brought her elbow down and her knee up; when the other Bajoran was
in position, she slammed the heel of her hand into the attacker's
nose, canting the blow upward. It was a potentially killing tactic,
but with luck...

The other, seeing her leap up, turned and fled down the dark tunnel,
unfortunately without letting her see any distinguishing
characteristics she could give to Odo. She bolted down the tunnel
toward Deanna.

Her attacker was enormous, and male. They both had hold of the
knife--it was in his hand, and she was holding his wrist up and away
from both of them by main force, shaking with effort, as she tried to
get her legs in a better leverage position--but he was on top of her,
and her face was crimson; her ribs might give at any moment.

Kira slammed their knife-wielding hands against the floor and grabbed
the knife, then hauled back on his hair and pulled his head back,
cutting his throat.

As the blood poured out all over her, Deanna cried out and scrambled
backward and away, crab-style; Kira was running back for the one she'd
downed, saying "Deanna, stay near that one! They can use our signals
to beam them to the infirmary!" She caught Deanna's nod out of the
corner of her eye as she slapped her comm badge and gave the order.

As they materialized, Starfleet and Bajoran medical personnel moved
in, pulling them all apart and to the diagnostic beds. "Try to save
one of those," Kira barked, shrugging off a technician that was trying
to get her to lie down. "We need answers. It may have been a couple of
anti-Federation zealots, or there may be more to it--Kira to Odo.
Deanna and I were just attacked; two of the attackers are in Sickbay
with fatal wounds, but the third escaped before I could do much more
than break his foot. Bajoran, male, average height and build, that's
all I can tell you. We were in upper pylon two, section fifteen."

"Acknowledged. Odo out."

Bashir was shaking his head over the one that had attacked Deanna.
"Nothing to be done now. Too much blood lost too quickly, on top of
several blows to the head, one of which seems to have caused a skull
fracture; he also had some minor injuries in the thoracic area and an
internal injury in the abdominal cavity; looks like repeated kicking
or beating with a heavy instrument."

As the body was covered and removed, he approached the side of the
doctor tending the other of Kira's assailants. "Brain hemorrhage," the
Vulcan woman said, "but her lifesigns are strong enough to get her
into stasis. We may be able to save her life, if not all her cognitive
abilities, but we will need time to prepare."

One of the other doctors was trying to tend to Deanna, but she wasn't
cooperating much. "That girl," she was whispering, over and over.
"That girl, will she live?"

"Julian Bashir, Chief Medical Officer DS9," Julian introduced himself
cordially, taking her shoulders and physically lifting her to the head
of the diagnostic bed and shoving her down. "I'll have to ask you to
lie down, Commander. Now, Major, if you ARE all right? Good. What
happened?" He was scanning Deanna as two technicians worked on her
more obvious cuts and contusions.

"I think it was a few of the Bajor for Bajorans crew. They weren't
after me; they were trying to hold me while their hitter went for
Deanna. And he wasn't after her gold comm badge."

"He had the knife?" This question came from Odo, who had entered,
noiselessly as usual.

Kira handed it to him. "Common enough knife, a weapon, all right, but
not unusual. It may have a few clues on it, like the hitter's ID if
his DNA's on file anywhere."

"They could've been lying in wait for Enterprise officers to come
inspecting the maintenance work. Your friend is conscious," Odo noted.
"Is any of that blood hers?"

"Most of it's his, but I could see some stains on her uniform--"

Julian enjoined again, "Hold still, please, Commander, I have to set
your jaw. 'The girl' is in stasis. We'll do what we can for her."

"That's all I have for now, Odo," Kira said, her eyes fixed on Deanna,
and he nodded and left with the knife.

"We'll need to undress her. Commander, do you want the Major to go?"
Julian asked Deanna.

"No, Nerys--" she lifted a hand, wincing with the effort. Julian
nodded. "All right then, Major, you know the rules. No comments, no
nagging, and keep out of the way."

"I know, doctor."

As they quickly sliced off and removed Deanna's uniform, Kira's face
crumpled in distress. The counselor was discolored in many places,
most severely her shins, arms and face. "Nothing broken but the jaw,"
one of the techs said, "but the bruising is serious."

"Then FIX it," she snapped, and Julian gave her a look.

"Sorry."

Deanna was lying with her eyes closed, tears trickling down the sides
of her face. She managed to open her swollen mouth a crack, despite
the technician's protests, and barely whispered, her lips and tongue
forming the words with difficulty. Julian, up by her face, said "No
more talking. That's final." He looked at Kira. "She wants you to go
look at the one in the morgue stasis."

Puzzled, Kira glanced at Deanna, but the other woman's eyes were
closed. Kira turned, carefully--she was a bit sore, but nothing else
wrong--and asked one of the nurses to show her which drawer held the
body of the largest assailant.

As the drawer opened, Kira hardened herself as usual to the sight of a
violently dead body. She'd seen enough of them.

Even a few that were this young. He was a teenager, he had to be to be
so tall and broad-shouldered, but his face was almost that of a child;
and it resembled the girl in live stasis, before Kira had rammed the
girl's nasal ridge up into her brain.

---

Deanna was sitting on a biobed in Sickbay with Beverly running a
scanner over her. "You should be off duty for a day. No, I'll
rephrase; you WILL be off duty for a day or Jean-Luc will not hear the
end of it. Yes, Alyssa?"

"There's a message from the station for Counselor Troi; I said it
would be all right to use your office?"

"Of course. Go on, Deanna, but slowly. Lie down and read a good,
peaceful book this evening."

Wordlessly Deanna slid off the table and went into the office. She
touched the screen on and Kira's face appeared. "Counselor? Your
captain has agreed to give me fifteen minutes to bring you a small
gift in return for your hospitality before your ship leaves to
rendezvous with your crew member. I'm told you can meet me in
transporter room two."

"Of course. I'll be there in just a moment; there's something from my
quarters I need to pick up, but we'll be done with...our business
before fifteen minutes are over. I'll see you there."

"DS9 out."

The screen went black and Deanna made for her quarters, mind blank and
keeping it that way.

In transporter room two, Kira was waiting; Deanna said "Excuse us,
please," to the transporter operator, who nodded and left.

Kira stepped forward, and touched Deanna's face with the hand that
wasn't holding a small parcel. "Are you really all right?"

"I'm fine. One day off duty that I don't really need. You?"

They stared at each other a minute, and Kira suddenly broke out "He
had a knife, he was at least twice your size, you had no room to--"

"I was winning, Nerys--"

"You were DYING, Deanna, or about to be!"

"That girl. How is she?"

Kira paused, looking at the floor. "Bashir can save her life and most
of her higher brain functions. She'll have to relearn a great deal,
and there'll be some memory problems, but eventually she'll...be as
functional as before."

"Will she have to pick a new name?"

"DAMN it, Deanna! I'd've killed her and her brother with a club if it
meant saving your life! They ATTACKED us, and I couldn't know whether
you were going to make it or not! I did what I had to be certain you
lived. And listen to me--you were going to die. You had done
everything you could to simply STOP him; I saw where the bruises were
on you, and where and how severe his injuries were, in the infirmary.
The only way to stop him was kill him. The only way for either of us,
right there, right then, to stop him from killing you was to kill
him."

Deanna said hollowly "Hindsight. Information gleaned later, at the
infirmary. You cannot know my death was certain. Both of us
together--"

"But I'd still have had to take out the girl to get to you."

"I could have stopped him myself, perhaps, but we'll never know now--"

"But what we do know is that even if you couldn't have stopped him,
you wouldn't have killed him. You'd have died yourself. I took that
decision on myself--I made sure you lived, when you'd've sacrificed
yourself--and maybe I didn't have the right to do that. I apologize
for presuming, I suppose. But I'll take the responsibility. I did what
I had to to be certain we both lived, and right or wrong, I’d do it
again."

Deanna was silent another moment, then said "I know you did. I don't
think I'd have done the same thing, but I don't know. If it had been
you, instead of me...Will would have done what you did, if he'd had
to. Nerys, this is only what we've always known was the difference
between us--a particularly graphic and painful example of its
ramifications, at any rate. We don't have much time. I thank you for
taking action to save my life, and I'm sorry I was the reason we were
both put in danger."

"Not your fault--"

"No, but none of this is very logical. Nerys--" she reached out, and
the two women embraced tightly, and kissed.

They didn't want it to stop, but the comm beeped. "Picard to Counselor
Troi. Deanna, we've got to get going. It's time to tell your guest
bonsoir."

They separated, pressing small packages into each other's hands. As
Nerys took her place on the pad, she smiled a little, saying "What did
he say? Bonsoir? Does it mean good-bye?"

"No. It means good evening."

"Good. Bonsoir, Deanna."

Deanna smiled back tearily. "Bonsoir, Nerys." She was careful the
tears didn't impede her working of the console.

---

A sleek silver earring, not like the ones they wore--the pagh
earrings--as an indication of their loyalties and faith, but a pendant
type that Deanna'd seen people wearing in the other ear, apparently as
a cosmetic balance. A clear blue stone glittered at the tip.

And a handwritten note, the paper rough, the writing, in Standard,
spidery and precise.

Deanna,

There're always subspace and relay stations; and if we both want it to
happen enough, there's always the possibility of seeing each other
again, even if only as friends--and I devoutly hope we do.

But there's also the possibility we won't, and I want you to know that
you mattered--how great a difference you've made to me, even if it
doesn't show much on the outside. I saw things about perspective, and
patience, and the value of--okay, the need for--the occasional bit of
silliness or indulgence. And I think that maybe contempt is best
reserved for the truly evil and willfully ignorant. Most of the time.

I wanted you to know something else. We're both in occasionally
dangerous lines of work, and if anything happens to me, you've been
added to the list of people I want notified. If you would, I'd
appreciate it if you'd put me on your list. There are a few
observances I'd want to make.

But enough melodrama. Thank you for one of the most fascinating--and
satisfying--weeks of my life. Jhi'akazha. Wisdom and peace.

Next time you're in comm station range, drop me a note. I swear to
you, it'll make my day.

---

A silver earring, of the exact type she'd given Deanna, but with a red
stone. And a note, written on smooth, pale blue paper in even smoother
black Standard letters.

Nerys,

The love, respect and sensitivity for life is there inside you; an
enormous heart--I've seen it, sensed it. Whether anyone else believes
it or not, you must continue to believe that your ability to love, to
be vulnerable, to trust, has not been destroyed. You are more than
what most people see. Believe me, and believe that your love is still
alive; never let it die, Nerys. It's never the strong who abandon
compassion and sympathy.

Like Mok'bara and Anjisal, we are too different to adapt, each to the
other. But we will remember, and see and speak to each other again. I
feel it; I sense it. And I thank you for the lesson in practicality.
Our biases, here in Starfleet, may be benign biases, but you have
helped me see that that is what they are. Whether I ever do anything
differently because of that knowledge is impossible to say. But I have
that particular perspective now, and I thank you profoundly for that.

May the Prophets guide you. You have my dearest affection, and all my
faith.

---

The End