"COMMANDER SISKO, Gul Marak requests permission to meet with you at your earliest convenience."
Sisko acknowledged the message without surprise. He'd been expecting this, now that the Swift Striker had docked. It looked like this Gul Marak didn't plan to waste too much time, whatever he had planned. "Tell him I'll see him in my office whenever he comes on station."
He shifted impatiently in his chair. He never really did feel quite comfortable in this office, looking down from on high at the main Operations floor. But its design did provide some useful insight into the Cardassian mind-set. Gul Marak, like most who held that rank, doubtless considered himself a type of minor supreme being who expected his subordinates to jump at the snap of a finger and obey orders without question. Sisko had known others of the type.
Thinking of Cardassians, he activated his console and called up a view of pylon six, with the Swift Striker now docked. He had observed the procedure from Ops. The Cardassian pilot had snugged the huge warship deftly into its berth with a minimum of thruster adjustment. The big winged ship fit there as if it and the station were made for each other. Which of course they had been. The Swift Striker might look rough and ungainly to Starfleet eyes, but seeing it docked now, Sisko was forcibly reminded that Deep Space Nine was Cardassian-built, that the very features he and his staff were constantly finding most irritating had been designed with a different utilitarian harmony in mind.
As a Starfleet officer, Benjamin Sisko was supposed to be free from xenophobia. Still, the Cardassians were everything he deplored, both personally and as an officer sworn to uphold the ideals of the Federation. Since taking over the station, he had often been sharply reminded of this contradiction within himself, especially here in Gul Dukat's office.
Marak burst through the door without knocking, a courtesy apparently not generally practiced by the officers of the Cardassian fleet. By now, Sisko was used to it.
"Gul Marak?" he inquired smoothly, letting a bland smile mask his irritation.
"And you're Sisko," Marak stated with an amiable sneer.
Sisko quelled his hostile reaction, but the smile faded. "I believe you asked to meet with me."
In response, Marak tossed a data clip onto the surface of his desk. "The Cardassian government has ordered me to communicate their demands to the United Federation of Planets. To you as their representative."
Sisko picked it up. "Sit down, Gul, while I read this."
"There's no need to read it. I can tell you what it says: My government demands that the federation return the Cardassian station unlawfully possessed by you and currently designated DS-Nine. I'm authorized to assume command here at this time."
Oh, you are? Aloud, Sisko said only, "I'm aware that you've recently had a change of government."
Marak went on as if he hadn't spoken. "The Federation has no legitimate claim to this territory. It was relinquished by traitors falsely claiming to act in our name. If you wish, I can show you copies of their confessions. By all rights, this station is Cardassian domain."
"Gul Marak, I can't comment on charges of treason within the Cardassian government. But in any case, I'm not empowered to hand over command of DS-Nine. The station and the region it controls belong to the Bajorans. Perhaps you ought to deliver your demands to them."
Marak hissed in contempt. "Cardassians don't recognize Bajoran scum!"
"That's your problem, then! Because the former administration did turn over the station to Bajor." Sisko took a breath. "I will, of course, pass on your government's position to the proper authorities in the Federation. But until I see orders to the contrary, DS-Nine remains Bajoran territory, administered by the Federation at Bajor's request. And I'll retain command."
"I see." Marak's voice took on a menacing tone. "Then don't say you weren't warned."
"That's true on both sides, Gul. I hope we understand each other."
Marak nodded stiffly. "I assume that my ship is still free to dock here under your administration."
"Just the same as any other ship. Deep Space Nine is open to all. Even to Cardassians. Now, to other business. Do you intend to give your crew liberty during your stay here?"
"You have objections?"
"Not at all, as long as they're aware of our regulations. No weapons are allowed on the Promenade. No violence will be tolerated, or threats of violence, or forceful intimidation. This includes sexual encounters. If your crew has a complaint, they take it up with station security, they don't try to settle matters themselves.
"And—one other thing. We have a number of planetary delegations on the station. At the moment, our life-support capacity is near its limit. For that reason, I'll have to ask that you limit your liberty parties to no more than fifteen crew members at any one time."
"Is that all?"
"I'll have a complete set of current station regulations transmitted to your ship. Just so there won't be misunderstanding."
Marak bowed, machinelike in his stiffness. "Very well, Commander Sisko. You'll be hearing from me again."
"You know where to find me, Gul." Sisko couldn't have him off DS9 too soon. Again, briefly, he found himself with a strange sense of missing Gul Dukat.
As soon as Marak had left, he slapped his communicator. "This is Sisko. Get me Constable Odo right now. Then have all security personnel report for briefing. And notify Major Kira that I want to meet with her, but only when she reports back on duty. Don't wake her."
It was a good thing, he thought, that Kira had been asleep in her quarters while Gul Marak on the ship. He woulhn't have wanted to witness a confrontation between those two.
Kira simply couldn't sleep.
A human in her place might have taken a sleeping aid, but a Bajoran was different. Kira knew that her spiritual center was disturbed, misaligned. She had to set it right again, or she would never be able to rest in any meaningful sense.
The moment she stepped through the circular doorway into the temple's shadows, she could feel some of the tension leaving her. Candles made a soothing, flickering light, and from somewhere came the distant sound of a voice, softly chanting. Then her heart lifted when she saw a familiar, saffron-robed figure approaching from his place at the side of a small reflecting pool.
"Leiris! I hoped I'd find you here."
They touched hands, and the monk pressed his fingertips to the lobe of her ear, where a silver clasp dangled. "Kira Nerys, old comrade!" He drew her back to the edge of the pool, where they sat down together. "You're disturbed," he said. "I can feel it in you."
She sighed. "You can understand. Better than anyone."
He shook his head serenely. "We've all been scarred by our experiences. You aren't alone, Nerys."
She poured out her feelings. "I've sometimes felt like I'm alone. Here, on this station. When I first learned you were coming here, I realized just how much alone I've been, for so long. I avoided the temple for years, you know, during the war. I'd even stopped meditating. I was out of touch with myself. But I think I had to be, to go on with the struggle. With what we had to do."
"Then perhaps the Prophets have sent me to help you."
She dropped her head into her hands. "I see the faces. When I shut my eyes. They won't let me rest."
"No, Nerys. You won't let yourself rest. The dead are at peace with themselves. You imagine their suffering, but you're only feeling your own loss."
"I remember what they suffered. So much, so long.
How do you forget, Leiris? How did you manage to find peace, after everything?"
"I don't forget. But it's time to leave the past to itself. Time is a series of moments. At each point, it is always now. When we were oppressed, it was possible to find our center in the act of resistance. That is, some of us could. I'm sorry it was otherwise with you. But now, Nerys … you must look into yourself to find the center of your being. What pulls you into the past? What keeps you from finding your center, here, now?"
"Whenever I see a Cardassian, whenever I hear a Cardassian name."
"Ah, yes. The Cardassians. Tell me, if you had killed them all during the war, would you be at peace now?"
She said nothing, only exhaled.
"Nothing we do can harm the dead—or help them. We can only help ourselves. We can only live among the living. Come, we'll meditate together. Seek for your center, Nerys. Leave the dead to their rest. You are alive. Live now."
Again, he touched the edge of her ear, pressed his fingertips against her temple. "Close your eyes, Nerys. Leave the past behind. Bid it farewell."
She exhaled, she shut her eyes, and in the inner saw the dead faces again, watched them fade.
"Look away from it. Turn away from the pain. Find your self, Nerys. Find the center of yourself."
Time seemed to suspend itself, or to cease altogether. Place faded away. There was only her self, the center that endured through all times, all events. She separated herself, from mere events, from the world, from its pain. Timeless, eternal …
When she emerged from the state of meditation, Kira didn't know how long it had been. She didn't want to check the time to find out, to reduce the experience to mere worldly dimensions, like minutes or hours.
She did think, when she finally left the temple, that sleep might have finally been possible—sleep without dreams. She was actually on her way back to her quarters when her communicator caught the announcement: "All security staff report for briefing."
"What the…" Suddenly, she was fully in the world again. Here, in the Promenade corridor, on Deep Space Nine. Where a Cardassian warship was docked. She slapped her comm badge. "Kira to Odo. What's going on?"
"Major, you're not supposed to be on duty."
"Odo, just answer the question. What's the emergency? Why are we still on Yellow Alert?"
"No emergency, Major. The meeting is merely a precaution with the Cardassian ship onstation. The commander wants to avoid provocations."
"What provocations?" she demanded, already on her way to the security office.
Sisko had clearly not expected to see her there.
"Major, you're supposed to be off duty."
"Well, I'm here. What's this about Cardassian provocations?"
"The Cardassians have delivered a demand that the Federation turn the station back over to them."
Kira could feel her anger seething, the blood starting to heat. All her newly won spiritual balance deserted her. "They demand! Turn the station back over to them? They have the unmitigated—"
"Major!" At the tone in Sisko's voice, she caught her words. He went on, "This is probably just a pro forma display by the new government that took power recently. I suspect they're just going through the motions to satisfy the public at home. They deliver an ultimatum to me, I send it on to the Federation, and they've made their point.
"But, just in case it's something more than that, I've taken certain precautions. We'll remain on alert status. And I've limited the number of Cardassian crew members that can be on the station at any one time.
"But what we don't need right now is some Bajoran hothead deciding that this is the right time to look for a little personal vengeance for something that happened during the occupation. I don't think I have to remind you all that matters are at a very sensitive stage at the moment, with the ongoing negotiations. Ambassador Hnada has asked me to personally ensure that there are no incidents which might disturb the delegates.
"Clear? Everyone? Major?"
"Of course," she said stiffly. As much as she often disagreed with their decisions, Kira wore the uniform of the Bajoran provisional government. If they wanted these trade negotiations, it was her duty to support them-regardless of her personal feelings about Bajor joining the Federation.
"But Commander, one thing. I do know the Cardassians. It'll take more than just legal technicalities to satisfy them. They won't stop until they've seen blood."
Sisko grimly recalled the reports of the executions, the records of the confessions that Gul Marak had transmitted to him after he went back to his own ship. "I believe, Major, that they've seen plenty of blood already."