He stuck out like a sore thumb.
Captain Robin Zhang reached down into his collar and rubbed the back of his neck, as he wandered the halls of the Lakarian City exhibition center somewhat aimlessly, the bold red shoulders of his uniform in stark contrast to the subdued earthy tones worn by the overwhelmingly Cardassian visitors.
The locals had the propensity to move in droves; boisterious children laughing and shouting as they ran ahead, with the adults following not far behind, the patriarchs and matriachs holding an air of regal dignity whilst surrounded by younger relatives gossiping away. Most were too preoccupied with the exhibition or currying their elders to notice him, and the few that did would briefly regard his coarsely-cropped black hair and oriental features with a strange sort of curiosity, before uttering a brief but polite greeting and hurrying on their way again.
Zhang glanced back the way he came. Two other Starfleet officers - a wry brunette with her French Twist cumulating in a generous high bun, and her friend, a flirtatious Andorian minx - had been preoccupied with a simple black-and-red sketch-like painting of a flower for quite some time. Neither the fact that the name of the artist was a certain Tora Ziyal nor the large crowd that had gathered to view it moved him.
What did catch his interest, however, were the contemporary sculptures in the corridor just beyond a clique of young Cardassian women, gaudy fabrics fluttering and hair ornaments clinking with their giggling as they parted to let him through.
Most of the sculptures were, disappointingly, lackluster imitations of the late First Hebitian style - the proportions were more or less correct, but the Jevonite had obvious veins of impurities and the workmanship marred by uninformed overuse of common motifs. Zhang was more than certain that had Corat Remara, his Science Officer and coincidentally a Lakarian City native, been present, he would have burst into a most eloquently-argued assessment of additional flaws that the Captain's untrained human eyes would have missed.
On the other hand, a four-piece ensemble entitled "Life" intrigued him. Whilst the simplified style lacked the grace of authentic Hebitian figurines, the bold postures and use of carefully-polished Obsidian was a refreshing breeze of originality.
The first of the statuettes stood upright, and appeared to be holding one thumb over its nostrils.
The second, also standing, had one arm held out level with its shoulder, pointing forwards with the whole hand.
The third reminded Zhang of the horse stance used in traditional Chinese martial arts, but with both fists raised in defiance.
The four and final statuette was a bit unusual, in that unlike its three peers, had a hunched back and hands gathered near the chin, as if it was laughing or mocking the others.
Lost in thought as he attempted to interpret the four small figures, Zhang failed to notice a plainly-attired Cardassian man approaching him silently from behind.
"I must say, Captain Zhang, I did not know you were such a connoisseur of the arts."
His train of thought interrupted, the Starfleet Captain turned to confront his stalker, only for his bemused expression to dissolve into one of pleasant surprise.
"Gul Antos!" Zhang exclaimed. "You certainly look different without the uniform."
"Oh yes, everyone says that. I must admit, the broad shoulders and exposed necks make us far more intimidating than we actually are, so I am most certainly glad to be wearing something far more comfortable today. But, my dear Captain, let us talk about you instead - how have you been?"
"Fairly well, actually. Most of the crew's on shore leave while the repairs to the Odyssey continue." Zhang paused to scan the crowds. "Surjan's not with you?"
"He's visiting family on Atbar V, but I shall pass on your regards to him, if you like."
"That would be much appreciated. The retaking of Deep Space Nine would not have been possible without support from the Cardassian Defense Force."
"A small token of appreciation for the Federation's continued assistance to the Cardassian people."
"Of course." Zhang glanced at the statuettes briefly before turning back to Antos. "Tell me, what do you think about this piece?"
"A most intriguing composition," the Gul declared. "Usually, we Cardassians prefer the triumvirate, but it seems that the sculptor has - quite admirably, mind you - chosen to dispense with tradition."
"I see, but how do you suppose the work represents the underlying theme of 'Life'?"
"My dear Captain! The statuettes speak for themselves, if one listens closely. See, the first states that life requires air, basic necessities for survival; the second tells us that life requires purpose and direction; the third encourages us to face life with perseverance; and finally, the fourth reminds us that life requires humility."
"Fair enough," Zhang nodded, seemingly in understanding. "That makes sense. But now that you mention it, I suppose one could look at them in another way."
And so, pointing to each statuette in turn, the Captain offered his own interpretation:
"Somebody farted!"
"It was you!"
"It wasn't me!"
"Sorry guys, my bad!"
=Λ=
"And this is precisely why we can't have nice things," Tactical Officer Christine Barber observed dryly to Security Chief Mirra Shran, having overheard the entire exchange all the way from Tora Ziyal's Contemplations Under The Timpok Tree.