Restoration
13. Summit
The Cardassian delegation was led through the habitat ring of the station, along various corridors, up several levels in a turbo-lift, and finally to the wardroom. Even whilst being escorted there, there was tension in the air. Gin could tell that Amaro did not like being led around the former Cardassian station by a Bajoran security officer. It implied that he didn't know his way, and that the Bajorans didn't trust him. Gin knew that they were being escorted out of politeness, not suspicion, but she didn't even bother trying to explain it to Amaro.
When the wardroom door opened, Gin followed the Cardassians into the room. Soft music immediately reached her ears; some form of harp, she thought. Her suspicions were confirmed when she noticed a woman seated at a harp in the far corner of the room, whilst two men accompanied her on unfamiliar string and flute instruments.
The room was already quite full. Four Klingons, one of them wearing a Starfleet uniform, were talking with two Bajoran men; their eyes fell on the new arrivals immediately, and one of them made a growling noise, but nothing came of it. A Betazoid man, distinguishable because of his black eyes, was in deep conversation with a blue-skinned Benzite, who was forced to inhale chemicals from a nose-piece attached to his suit. Benzar's atmosphere, Gin knew, was not of the same oxygen-nitrogen composition as most worlds, and Benzites could not breathe normal air. With them was a Coridanite, wearing a dark mask over his face which left only marginal amounts of skin, along with his eyes, showing. They were probably the Federation delegation, Gin realised, from the member worlds most affected by the war. Betazed had actually been occupied by the Dominion, before the Betazoids had used their telepathic and empathic abilities in a concerted attack to drive out the Jem'Hadar and Vorta.
At the far side of the room, three Breen, wearing their refrigeration suits, were watching the proceedings. Whilst most of the guests had a glass in their hand, the Breen did not. They wouldn't take their helmets off to drink, and risk showing the Alpha Quadrant what lay beneath. They liked being enigmatic far to much, to do that.
Standing near the harp-player was a Ferengi man, a gold-topped stick held in one hand, and a tall, buxom Bajoran woman on his other arm. Two other Ferengi men shadowed him, but Gin did not think they were guards. More likely they were financial advisors, come to advise their Nagus on how best to conduct diplomatic affairs.
In addition to the summit members, there was an inordinately large number of both Bajoran officials and Starfleet officers present, mingling with each other. One well-groomed Bajoran man was speaking with Admiral Ross and Ambassador T'Lona, though his eyes flickered very briefly over Gin when he noticed her beside the Cardassians. Colonel Kira was there too, and when she saw the Cardassians enter, she interrupted her conversation with another Starfleet admiral to come over and greet them.
"Gentlemen," she said, and indicated a table which held myriad bottles and various shapes of glasses, "please help yourselves to drinks."
Before they got chance to get a drink, however, they were approached by the Bajoran man who had been speaking to Admiral Ross, and one of the men who had been talking with the Klingons joined them as well. The former was a tall, good-looking man wearing fine-cut clothing, whilst the latter was dressed in ornate white and gold robes, and wore an intricate earring in his right ear.
"Colonel Kira," the taller, plainer man said as he approached. Gin recognised the request in his words.
"First Minister, please allow me to introduce you to Primarch Damar," Kira said, "along with Ministers Amaro, Garak and Unaran, and Ambassador Fox." Gin wondered how the woman managed to memorise so many names so easily. "And Primarch, this is First Minister Shakaar, and Kai Marro, our new spiritual leader."
"I'm glad to finally meet you," the First Minister of Bajor said to the Primarch of Cardassia. "Colonel Kira has told me much about you. I hope that, once this summit is officially over, you and I will get the chance to sit down together, and discuss the future of our peoples."
"I look forward to it," Damar said. Gin recognised the neutrality in his voice. It was the same neutrality Telor tried for, when he wanted to show that he was mature, and gave none of his feelings away.
The second Bajoran man, Kai Marro, stepped forward. When he lifted his hand, Gin thought he was going to offer it in friendship, but instead he used it to hold the Primarch's ear, of all things. Damar stiffened at the action, and the other three Cardassians looked surprised. Gin had read up on Bajoran customs whilst on the journey to Deep Space Nine. She knew that this was something the adherents of the wormhole aliens they called Prophets did to determine what they called 'Pagh.'What exactly 'Pagh' was, Gin was not too sure, though she suspected it was something like Chi, the life-force of Buddhist or Taoist philosophies on Earth.
At last the Kai released Damar's ear. "Your Pagh is strong, Primarch," he said. Behind Damar, Amaro snorted in disgust or amusement and rolled his eyes.
"Is that a good thing?" Damar asked.
"Those with a strong Pagh are constantly tested. You face many trials ahead of you, Primarch."
"He's the leader of the Cardassian Union," Amaro pointed out. "Of course he has many trials ahead."
"Amaro," Damar warned, "go and get yourself a drink. That goes for the rest of you, too. I would like to talk with the Colonel for a moment."
Casually dismissed, Gin made her way towards the drinks table before the Bajoran spiritual leader could think about grabbing her ear, too. She was joined a moment later by the three Ministers, Amaro grumbling under his breath about the 'crazy Bajorans.'
"Minister Amaro," Garak said, pouring himself a glass of Vulcan brandy, "if you had anything between your ears, I fear you'd be quite dangerous. Did it not occur to you that insulting the spiritual leader of Bajor might not be the best of ideas, given that we're on a Bajoran space-station in Bajoran territory that's defended by rather a lot of impressive Starfleet ships? Or was your pea-sized brain was too busy being distracted by other, more complex thoughts, such as how to string together polysyllabic sentences?"
"I'm going to mingle," Gin said, not particularly in the mood to listen to another Garak–Amaro slanging match.
"Mingle?" Unaran asked.
"Yes, you know. It's that thing you do when you go and meet other people." She quickly poured herself a drink of something only mildly alcoholic—a peach-flavour Earth cocktail, it turned out—and set off into the room before Unaran could offer to join her. She didn't have to wait long before she was noticed; Ambassador T'Lona was talking with two of the Klingons, and she called out to Gin.
"Ambassador Fox," she said, and waited until Gin approached the small group. "Ambassador, I would like to introduce you to Chancellor Martok and Commander Worf, the Federation Ambassador to the Klingon Empire." She gestured to an older man wearing impressive attire which made him appear even taller than he already was, and a younger man wearing a Starfleet uniform.
"An honour to meet you both," Gin said, offering them a bow.
"And you, Ambassador," said the Chancellor. His one good eye—the other was covered by a mass of ill-healed scar tissue—appraised her frankly. "Tell me, how are you finding life on Cardassia?"
"A challenge," she admitted. "It's not easy, seeing the suffering that happens there, but conditions are improving, albeit slowly."
"It is... strange... to think of Damar as the leader of Cardassia," Commander Worf said, eyeing the Primarch across the room.
"We live in interesting times," she agreed. "I do believe, though, that sometimes, ordinary men can make extraordinary leaders."
"There is wisdom in your words," said the Chancellor. "Wouldn't you agree, Worf?"
"Of course, Chancellor."
"You are fortunate, Ambassador Fox," said T'Lona. "If anything is going to change in this quadrant, it will be Cardassia, and the Cardassian people. You are in a unique position to witness how those changes unfold. Centuries from now, historians might read your words and your accounts."
"Yes, I suppose I do have front row seats," she said. The Vulcan quirked a questioning eyebrow at the expression.
The wardroom door opened again, and a new group stepped inside the room. Four dark-haired Romulans, a greenish tinge to their skin, looked around, their dark eyes appraising the room's occupants. Behind them was a tall, grey-haired human man, probably their own Federation ambassador. Gin saw Colonel Kira excuse herself from the conversation with Damar and the two Bajoran leaders, and move to greet the Romulans.
"Hngh. Romulans," Chancellor Martok grunted.
"This should prove to be an... interesting... summit," said Commander Worf, his gaze fixed on the newcomers.
"Do you know what will be asked of Cardassia, as far as reparations are concerned, Chancellor?" Gin asked.
"You know I can't discuss that until the summit begins," he replied. "All I can say is that the reparations will be directly proportional to the actions of the Cardassians during the war. Fortunately for them, it was the Jem'Hadar who took Betazed, and the Dominion and Breen ships which inflicted the most damage during skirmishes, rather than the Cardassian fleet."
The Romulans made a move towards the drinks table, and the three Cardassians took a step back to allow them access. Gin could have sighed; Amaro could barely keep the disdain off his face as he looked at the newcomers. Did he hate everyone who wasn't Cardassian? Fortunately, before anything could come of it, Colonel Kira stepped into the centre of the room, and tapped the side of her own glass with a spoon, calling for attention. The room quickly fell silent; even the musicians stopped playing.
"I would like to officially welcome you all to this three day summit," she said, her brown eyes scanning over the faces in the crowd. "Today is an important day. Today we look at putting the past behind us, and working towards the future as friends and allies. These past few months have not been easy; we've all lost people that we care about. But we hope that we can move forward, to build a better future for ourselves, and our children. Bajor is proud to host this summit, and we have prepared a meal, which we hope you will all share in before the meeting officially begins."
On her cue, a couple of Bajorans pulled back long white cloths over several tables at the far side of the room, revealing an extravagant buffet beneath. There was everything from Earth food to Romulan cuisine; Klingon gagh, Bajoran dishes, Cardassian delights, and various foods which Gin didn't recognise.
"I wonder how they managed to keep their gagh fresh," Martok said curiously. He wandered off towards the table with Commander Worf in tow.
"I believe the Bajorans will make an excellent addition to the Federation," T'Lona said, as people began to gravitate towards the food.
"Do you think that will happen soon?" Gin asked. For the moment, the two were alone.
"Sooner than you might have guessed. This summit is not the only reason why Ambassadors from Betazed, Benzar and Coridan are here, nor why Admiral Ross is here. Once the summit has been concluded, and the foreign delegations have returned to their homes, we Ambassadors will be reviewing Bajor's application to join the Federation as full members. I haven't seen all of the available data in support of their request, but it looks very promising. The Bajorans have come a long way in such a short time."
"I wish them luck with their application," Gin replied.
"Luck will have nothing to do with it, Ambassador," T'Lona assured her.
At that moment, Gin saw both Bajorans leave Damar, and decided to make the most of his momentary solitude. "Excuse me, Ambassador. I must confer with Primarch Damar."
She managed to leave T'Lona and reach Damar before anybody else could grab his attention, and she gestured for him to join her a little further away from the food table. Knowing Damar, he probably wouldn't eat anyway. She thought he'd lost weight since waking up from his catatonic state.
"Ambassador T'Lona just told me that after the summit, the Ambassadors are going to assess Bajor for Federation membership," she said quietly.
"Good for them," Damar replied without feeling.
"Are you worried by what Kai Marro said?"
"Not at all. I'm not afraid of challenge. Failing any such challenges, however, is another matter."
"Sometimes, we learn more quickly from our defeats than our successes."
"I thought you'd say something like that."
"I'm becoming too predictable, then. I'll have to think of something more surprising."
He glanced down at her. "Like that dress?"
"I told you I wanted to make a good impression," she smiled. "Do you think I accomplished it?"
"You certainly opened a few eyes."
"I'll take that as a compliment." She glanced at the Cardassian delegation near the food table, and saw Amaro pulling his face in disgust at the gagh wriggling around in a deep dish. "How can you tolerate his xenophobic arrogance?" she asked, her gaze still on the Legate.
"Because I have to. If I'm going to unite the people of Cardassia, I need to unite all of them. Not just the ones I like."
She nodded, only half listening as her sense of mischief kicked in. "Excuse me," she said, "I need to get some food." And besides, the chance to disgust Amaro even further was just too good to pass up. Ignoring the look of surprise on Damar's face at the sudden end to the conversation, she hurried to the food table, picked up an empty plate, and insinuated herself between Garak and Unaran.
"Oh, wonderful, fresh gagh!" she said, and reached out for a handful of the live, squirming worm-like creatures. Klingons, possessing above-human constitution, were not as bothered about personal hygiene, and as such, there were no serving utensils for the Klingon foods. The creatures in her hand were warm and slithered desperately trying to free themselves. She put the handful on her plate, then selected a few leaves of lettuce from a salad bowl as an accompaniment.
"You're not really going to eat that, are you?" Unaran asked, looking at her plate.
"Of course. Lettuce is a common plant on Earth."
"I was referring to the worms."
"Oh, they're not worms, they're gagh. And of course I'm going to eat them. I didn't pick them just to look at them, you know."
"I'll believe that when I see it," Amaro snorted. "You Humans are all the same... all talk, and no action."
Gin shrugged, picked up one of the wriggling gagh, and put it into her mouth, chewing for a moment before swallowing. It wasn't the first time she'd had gagh—when you were from an affluent trading family, you learnt to accept strange customs of your trading partners—and it wasn't too bad to eat, as long as you didn't actually think about what you were eating. Most of the varieties tended to taste like chicken anyway, albeit warm, wriggling juicy chicken.
"You know," she said, as she picked up another of the fat grub-like worms, "I think this would go well with yamok sauce." She looked around the table. "Do we happen to have any here?"
"Ah, it's over there," Garak said, pointing to a dish on the next table, where the Cardassian foods were placed.
She spread some of the yamok sauce over the gagh, then returned to Primarch Damar, who'd watched the whole exchange with a look of indifferent amusement.
"Gagh?" she offered him, as she approached.
"I'm not hungry," he replied.
"You should eat. You don't look as healthy as you should."
"Now you sound like Rokann," he sighed. Then he looked at her plate. "Are you really going to finish the rest of that?"
"Are you kidding?" she snorted. "If I wouldn't eat yamok sauce with chicken, I certainly wouldn't eat it with gagh. But I have forever linked, in Amaro's mind, yamok sauce with Klingon gagh." She grinned. "I think that was worth spoiling a little gagh for."
"Your mind is a... twisted place, at times, Ambassador," he said appreciatively.
"I'm glad you've noticed."
The three other Cardassians rejoined them, their plates containing mostly Cardassian foods, and Gin noticed Damar's gaze was centered now on the three Breen, none of which were partaking in the feast.
"I don't trust them," Garak said quietly. Possibly it was meant to be said to himself, but the rest of the delegation heard it.
"I've never trusted the Breen," Amaro said with a scowl. "As soon as the Dominion signed a treaty with them, I knew they'd be trouble."
"I wonder what they're hiding, beneath those helmets," Unaran said, deep suspicion in his voice.
"Forget about the Breen," Damar said. "They're not why we're here."
"Yes," Amaro said. "As for that, I wish they'd just get on with the summit instead of going through all this... false pretence and pleasantry."
"There is nothing false about it, Minister," Gin said. "This is merely how other races interact and form friendships. And if Cardassia wants to form friendships, it will have to learn how to be more... personable."
"Cardassia does not need friendships," Amaro replied. Before he could respond further, however, Damar held his hand up for silence, and the conversation was dropped.
Gin lowered her gaze, to consider the gagh currently drowning in yamok sauce. Had they been smart enough, together, some might have survived the thick liquid. But they were too busy fighting each other, crawling over each other, trying to escape, every gagh for himself. She just hoped that she wouldn't one day have to liken the fall of Cardassia to the struggle of drowning gagh.
o - o - o - o - o
Eventually, Amaro got his wish, and the delegations were led into the next room, where they were seated at a long table. At the head sat the Federation ambassadors, including a middle-aged Human woman Gin had not yet been introduced to, as well as Admiral Ross. Then came the Klingons and the Romulans to either side, with the Cardassians seated down from the Klingons, and the Breen seated down from the Romulans. At the bottom of the table was Grand Nagus Rom and his two advisors, along with First Minister Shakaar, Colonel Kira and Kai Morro. As far as Gin understood it, the Ferengi and the Bajorans were present as witnesses and for other aspects of the summit, not to request reparations themselves.
As soon as everybody was seated, the summit began. Ambassador T'Lona began by outlining the agenda for the next three days, and asking if everybody could agree to it. When there were no objections, she handed control of the meeting over to the Betazed Ambassador, a man named Reyn Varli, who explained that the Cardassians and the Breen, as members of the Dominion during its attack on the Alpha Quadrant, had two choices; either they could arrange to have rebuilt all of the buildings and facilities, both planet-side and in space, that were destroyed by the Dominion troops, or they could arrange for monetary renumeration to that value.
Amaro could be heard nashing his teeth, but there was little he could do about it. Because Cardassia's finances were in ruin, Damar chose the first option, to assign Cardassian builders to help reconstruction efforts on Betazed and in the Benzar and Coridan systems. Unfortunately, that meant taking builders away from Cardassia itself, which was also in dire need, but Gin didn't bring that up; from the expression on Damar's face, he was already perfectly aware of that fact.
The Breen, on the other hand, agreed to pay for restoration costs, rather than offer their people as labourers for construction work. But if Gin had thought that the reparations would be over with that quickly, she was sorely mistaken. Both the Cardassians and the Breen were given a list of reparation demands on datapads, and they made for sombre lists.
"Three systems each, to be handed over to the Federation, Romulans and Klingons?" Amaro exploded. "Three systems of their choice?! That is out of the question!"
"These are not negotiable terms, Legate," T'Lona said calmly. "This is not a business transaction, but a discussion of reparations to be made due to atrocities committed by your military during its alliance with the Dominion. We are trying the Founder as a war criminal. If you would prefer the same treatment, instead of reparations, that can be arranged."
"Primarch," Admiral Ross said, clearly thinking that Amaro was speaking for him. "You can barely provide enough for the people on your homeworld. The systems named in this agreement are all uninhabited, save for one, and of little strategic or resource value to the Cardassian Union in the near future."
"Oh, so you're doing us a favour by stealing our territory from our dying hands?" Amaro growled angrily.
Apparently, the Breen were not impressed by their list of reparations, either. One of the delegate spoke, his electronic translater distorting his words to such an extent that it was difficult for Gin's universal translator to correct it.
"The reason you're being penalised more heavily, Thot Mor," Ross explained, "is because your people are responsible for the destruction of an entire fleet at Chin'Toka, because your people chose to join the war when they could have opposed it, and because your ships were amongst the Dominion fleet to open fire on Cardassia Prime in an attempt to exterminate the population." The Breen spoke again, and Admiral Ross lifted his chin. "I know that. Why do you think it's taken us this long to arrange a summit? But if you walk out of this summit now, I promise you, action will be taken to prevent the Breen Confederacy from ever becoming a danger to the Alpha Quadrant again."
Amaro wasn't finished, either. He was still reading the data on his pad, and he exploded angrily once more when he read the next point.
"The Cardassian Union is to halt any present or future expansion into the Demilitarised Zone, and allow the Federation to continue colonisation attempts in that area? These aren't reparations, they are a joke! And a poor one at that."
"This day has been trying, for all of us," Ambassador T'Lona spoke up. "I would like to suggest a recess until tomorrow. This will give all parties involved a chance to rest and discuss the terms of our respective agreements amongst themselves. Perhaps tomorrow morning we can move past this, and on to our discussion of the future of the Alpha Quadrant."
There were no objections, and the Breen were the first to leave the room. They were followed by the Romulans, and two of the Federation Ambassadors. Gin stood when her own delegation did, and they left the remaining diplomats to their own discussions at the table. Each Cardassian man was silent as they walked down the corridor, returning to their own quarters. Amaro was fuming, though, his face a mask of anger. Knowing that Damar would want to talk about the reparations, and that it might take a long time for them to make a decision, Gin collected Telor from his room and then led him into Damar's quarters, where the men were sitting around the small coffee table. At least, three of them were sitting. Amaro was pacing and ranting angrily, the offending datapad in his hand.
"Item number three," he was saying. Gin nudged Telor towards a chair at the small dining table, out of the way of Amaro's wrath. "The Cardassian fleet shall be no larger in size than a third of the Federation fleet! They're looking to cripple us, Damar! How are we to defend our territory with such a small fleet?! Our ships don't possess the same level of technology as Federation ships... we rely on numbers for success! Not that we'll have any territory left, once we've given it all away to the Federation, Klingons and Romulans."
"You're not reading the full agreement, Minister," Gin pointed out, consulting her own PADD. "Yes, you're asked to make territorial concessions, but we already knew that would happen. And losing a total of nine systems is not so great a loss when you consider that the Breen are being told to give back what was signed away to them during the Dominion occupation of Cardassia."
"How merciful of the Federation, to keep us in consideration when dividing up the Alpha Quadrant like a piece of rulot pie!"
"Admiral Ross does have a point," Garak spoke up. "We can't afford to run long supply-lines at the moment. If we were to let go of some of the more out-lying systems, we could concentrate more fully on centralising our restoration efforts. Make Cardassia Prime strong, lay the foundations, and then expand outwards."
"And take back what is rightfully ours," Unaran said, and Garak rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"Besides," Gin continued, reading from the datapad, "you won't be defenceless. It clearly states here that in the event of a military matter which cannot be handled by the Cardassian fleet alone, Starfleet will send ships to assist."
"So we're supposed to rely upon Starfleet's benevolence to protect our own interests? When the Klingons come invading again, is the Federation really going to send their fleet to fire upon their allies?"
"They'll have to," Garak said. "I've recently learnt that two days ago, the Federation, Klingons and Romulans signed a pact that if any one of them should make an aggressive move against the others, or any planets counted as protectorates of the others, those others will intervene with both diplomatic and military channels. That means that if the Klingons attack us, the Federation will be forced to defend us, and both they and the Romulans will be forced to declare open war on the Klingon Empire. And vice versa, of course, should the Romulans decide to invade."
"And just how did you hear that?" Unaran demanded. "My contacts have picked up no such information."
"Oh, it's all very hush hush at the moment," Garak smiled.
"And if the Federation themselves should invade us?" Amaro asked. "The Romulans and Klingons might just sit back and accept it as 'internal affairs'."
"If the Federation wanted to invade, it would have done so already," Gin pointed out. "What you don't understand is that the whole quadrant is fed up of war. Nobody wants another one, not even the Klingons. Everybody wants to just go home and lick their wounds, and try to recover."
"Primarch," Amaro said, leaning down to address Damar, whose gaze was focused on the small PADD on the coffee table, "do not agree to these reparations. They restrict our territory, cripple our fleet, and take away our avenues for expansion. It's all well and good claiming that the Federation will defend us, but most of their fleet isn't stationed near our space. What's to prevent them from conveniently not being able to get here in time? Brave Cardassian men, women and children gave their lives for our empire, Primarch. If you hand over our territory and agree to limit our fleet, those people will have died for nothing."
Gin took a seat on the sofa beside Damar, and leant forward so she could speak softly, in opposition to Amaro's loud blustering. "I counsel you to accept these reparations, Primarch," she said. "As Garak pointed out, you need to concentrate on Cardassia prime, on building a strong base of power, a strong economy, and on making your society one that you and your people can be proud of. If you don't accept these reparations, you will essentially be standing alone. You will be cut off from friends and allies, left to the mercy of any passing power that thinks it can take a chunk from your empire. The men, women and children who gave their lives really will have died in vain if you allow Cardassia to wither and die from entropy, victims of your own suspicion and mistrust."
Damar stood up, and Gin leant back. Then he walked to the door, and it opened at his approach.
"Primarch?" Amaro asked, looking confused. "Where are you going?"
"I have to be somewhere," Damar replied, his voice and his eyes showing no emotion, no feeling, no... anything.
"Then I'll—"
"You'll leave me in peace, Amaro. All of you. Do as you please."
He left, and the door closed behind him. A moment of silence descended on the room. Then Amaro rounded on Gin.
"This is your fault!" he said. "I knew we shouldn't have brought you with us. But no, the Primarch thought you might be useful. Ha! A Klingon with a toothache would be more use than you."
"My fault?" she asked, standing up. "Is it my fault that your power-hungry leaders signed away the rights to their freedom to the Dominion? Is it my fault your soldiers died by the millions, carrying out Dominion orders? Is it my fault the Founder ordered your people exterminated? Blame me all you like, Amaro. Anything to shift the blame from the real criminals here; you, and the rest of your power-hungry jackals who thought they could have their cake and eat it."
"Perhaps," Garak said, standing between the two as if he feared they might come to blows, "it would be best if we all... dispersed. Give our heads a chance to cool down."
"Fine," Gin snapped, and held out her hand towards Telor. "Come, Telor. Let's go for a walk and see some of this fine Bajoran station."
"The boy stays here!" Amaro objected. "I'm not having you tainting his mind with your warped ideals and treasonous thoughts."
"Really? Well Rokann appointed me Telor's guardian whilst we're here. If you have a problem with that, feel free to contact him to complain." She held out her hand again. "Come on, Telor. Let's leave the Minister to listen to the sound of his own voice, since it's the only thing he seems to enjoy."
Telor hurried forwards, past the angry Legate, and took her hand. Together they left the room and stepped into the corridor, where there was no sign of Damar.
"I don't think I've ever seen Amaro that angry," Telor said, his eyes wide. "Did the Federation Alliance really ask for all those things?"
"Yes," she confirmed. "But they asked more of the Breen. It's not really as bad as Amaro is making out. He just hates to lose."
"So, where are we going?"
"I have no idea," she admitted. "Where do you want to go?"
"The Promenade," he replied with a smile. "I've memorised the layout of some of the station whilst waiting for you to finish your summit. The Promenade is the cultural hub of the whole station. There's restaurants and entertainment venues, as well as shops and even a Bajoran temple!"
"Okay," she agreed. "Lead the way!"
He really had been telling the truth about memorising part of the station, and he took her unerringly towards the centre of the habitat ring. When they entered a turbolift and descended a level, they stepped out onto an open boulevard full of all sorts of different people; Bolians, Vulcans, Trill, Bajorans, Betazoids, Ferengi, Humans, Ktarians, Andorians, Pakled, Zakdorn and Kobheerians; they represented just a small fraction of the variety of people present.
"Wow," Telor said, stepping out of the lift and staring up in wonder at the promenade's second level, where yet more aliens were going about their business. "I don't think I've ever seen so many different people! What's he?" he asked, pointing to a bald alien man with a wrinkled face and tufted ears.
"A Yridian," she said, and lowered his arm. "Also, it's rude to point."
"Oh, sorry," he said. "Are those Bajorans?" He nodded to a group of young women wearing colourful skirts, who passed by talking excitedly to one another. Long chain earrings dangled from their right ears.
"That's right," she said.
"And what about him?" He nodded towards a dark-skinned alien man with a crested scaley look.
"Kressari," she replied.
"He looks very different," Telor pointed out. "I used to think that you looked very different to Cardassians, but we're more similar to each other than we are to him. And there's a man over there who's green and blue."
"He's a Takaran," she told him.
When they reached a small kiosk that had three Bajoran children standing in front of it, Telor stopped walking to observe them. When the kiosk owner gave them each a stick of something large and roughly lolly-pop-looking, they all ran off laughing. The owner, a slim Bajoran woman, looked up to see Telor and Gin perusing at her merchandise.
"Would you like to try one?" she asked Telor. "First one's always free."
"What are they?"
"Jumja," the woman replied with a smile. "Very sweet. I guarantee you'll be back for another."
"Can I?" Telor asked Gin.
"Sure," she shrugged. "Just, don't go having an allergic reaction to them or anything. Your father won't thank me if I poison you."
"Oh, they're perfectly safe for most humanoid races, Cardassians included," the woman replied. She picked up one of the sticks and handed it to Telor. "There you go. Enjoy. And please come back when you'd like another."
They continued their walk, and Telor licked the jumja stick, his eyebrows rising in surprise. "It is sweet! You should try one, Gin."
"Maybe some other time," she said, catching sight of a completely different type of shop. "Right now I think I'll settle for a drink. Let's go in there."
She pointed to a crowded bar, and Telor nodded, happy to follow now that he had something to keep him occupied. When they entered the room, it quickly became apparent what type of bar it was. Several short, large-eared Ferengi were dashing to and fro with drinks trays in their hands, fetching new refreshments and taking away used glasses. Gambling machines were placed at one side of the room, operated by scantily clad women of varying species. Telor's eyes went wide when he saw them.
"Hey, keep your eyes on your jumja stick," she warned.
"Sorry," he said, looking contrite.
She led him towards the bar and found two empty stools, taking one for herself as Telor clambered into the second. For a moment she thought there was nobody around to serve drinks, then yet another Ferengi popped up from beneath the bar with a bottle in his hand. He took one look at Telor and raised a finger in warning.
"Persons under the age of eighteen are not permitted in this establishment," he warned.
"If you want my custom," Gin said with a smile, "he stays."
The Ferengi turned to object, but then stopped and stared at her, his finger raised but with no sounds coming out of his mouth.
"It's okay," Telor said. "This bar's a bit noisy for me anyway. Can I go and look at the rest of the promenade whilst you have your drink?"
"Alright," she agreed, feeling a little bit concerned about him going off on his own. But it wasn't as if there weren't dozens of people around. He was a smart young man, he'd be perfectly safe. "But be careful."
He gave her one of his trademark grins and made his way out of the bar. Gin watched the Ferengi's eyes follow him for a moment, before they returned back to her.
"The kid doesn't look anything like you," he said.
"That's because he isn't mine, Mister..."
"Quark." He opened his arms wide to indicate the entire bar area. "Owner and proprietor of this fine establishment. And I'm glad to hear it," he said, taking one of her hands in both of his, "you want to stay away from Cardassians. You never know where they've been."
"If only it were that easy," she replied. "Can I get a drink now?"
"Of course," he said happily. "What can I get for you?"
"A glass of kanar."
"Kanar?!" He pulled a disgusted face. "What do you want to drink that for? It's disgusting."
"I've never tried it," she admitted. "And I'd like to."
"Well, take it from someone who has; you're better off without. Foul stuff."
She took two strips of latinum from her pocket and slid them across the bar top. His eyes followed them greedily.
"Kanar it is," he said.
"And make it whichever is the best vintage," she said, adding another strip, which his greedy little eyes picked up on immediately.
"Whatever you say, lady."
He turned around and reached up to a high shelf, pulling down a wavy-shaped bottle of brown-coloured liquid. Then he took out a clean glass and poured a measure into it, handing her the glass once the liquid had settled. She brought the glass to her nose and sniffed it for a moment; it smelt spicy, and strong. Then she lowered the glass to her lips and let a small amount of the liquid trickle onto her tongue. It was every bit as spicy as she had been expecting, but not in an overpowering curry type way, more of a pervasive, warming way. Nor did it taste half as foul as Quark had claimed.
"It's... interesting," she said at last. "I think the people back home might be interested. How much of this stuff do you have?"
"A couple of crates left over from the Dominion occupation of the station," he shrugged, wiping his hands on a towel.
"How many is 'a couple'?" she asked.
"Five."
"Hmm," she said, eyeing him thoughtfully. He was lying; she knew his was lying by his tone of voice and the fact that Ferengi never told the truth when discussing business. "You know what?" she asked, leaning towards him.
"What?"
She gestured for him to lean closer, and when he did, she swiftly grabbed his ear and began massaging the skin with the pads of her fingers and the side of her hand. Her father had often thought it hilarious to let her do this at negotiations with the Ferengi, though of course, they kept it a secret from her mother, who would have been positively scandalised... or possibly jealous that her daughter had picked up an extra skill.
"I think you have more than five," she whispered, as he began making small happy sounds. "How many do you really have?"
"Twenty!" he gasped, and she moved her hand to an even more sensitive part of his ear. "Alright, alright, I've got thirty crates."
"Do you have a datapad?" she asked.
He groped under the bar counter and came up with a Ferengi-design PADD, which he put down. Using her free hand, she tapped on the keypad a few times, then handed it back to him. He glanced at it, and then his eyes widened as he saw the numbers. Grabbing the PADD from her hand, he stood up, pulling away from her touch.
"What's this?"
"How much I'm willing to give you for your thirty crates of kanar."
"Outrageous," he said. "I demand half as much again."
"You can have ten percent more."
"Twenty-five."
"Seventeen and a half."
"Done."
"If you'll just sign here," she said, offering the PADD back to him, so he could put his thumb-print on it.
"And now you sign here," he replied, turning the datapad around. She pressed her thumb to it and the deal was finalised.
"You'll have the thirty crates transferred to a cargo hold on the Ronak before tomorrow night."
"The Ronak?" he said, putting the PADD away. "Isn't that the ship that the Cardassian delegation came for the summit on?"
"That's right."
"I thought you said the folks back home would like the kanar..?"
"Yes. I'm the Federation ambassador to Cardassia."
His eyes went wide. "You mean I just sold all my kanar to an Ambassador of a planet hit by a major kanar shortage?"
"At a very reasonable price too, I might add," she smiled.
"You... you... females!" he huffed. Then he leant in closer to her. "You know, I'd be willing to throw in a crate of Earth brandy, for an after-work oo-mox session."
"I'll think about it," she said casually.
"Gin!"
She looked up to see Telor hurrying into the bar. When Quark scowled at him, he continued before he could be thrown out.
"Amaro just asked me if I've seen Damar anywhere. He can't find him, and I've already looked everywhere on the promenade myself!"
Ahh, Gin thought. So that's why Telor had been so eager to go off and explore on his own, instead of keeping her company. He'd been hoping to find and check up on Damar.
"Damar?" Quark asked. "My old friend Damar? If I know him, he's gone to wherever there's most kanar available." He looked thoughtful. "Which admittedly, should be here. Maybe something's wrong with him."
"Is there a fast way for us to search the station?" she asked him. "It's huge, and we don't have time to canvass it all."
"You could try the security office. I'm sure Major Toram will be happy to help."
"I know where the security office is," Telor said. "I walked past it earlier."
"Well, there you go," Quark said. "Sounds like you've got everything you need."
"It was a pleasure doing business with you, Quark," Gin said, standing up and pushing her empty glass back across the bar. "I might come back for another drink some time."
He caught her hand before she could turn away. "Remember my offer," he said, his little eyes shining greedily.
Gin half expected Telor to question her about Quark's words as they left the bar, but it seemed he was far too concerned about Damar to think of anything else. He almost jogged along the promenade towards the security office, and kept turning back to her, imploring her to hurry. When they reached it, the wide door opened as they neared, and they saw a beige-uniformed Bajoran man seated behind the front desk, reading reports from his datapad. He looked up at them when they entered, and seemed surprised by their presence.
"Is there something I can do for you?"
"We need to find Primarch Damar!" Telor blurted out. The Bajoran glanced at him in suspicion, then looked up to Gin.
"My name is Ambassador Fox," she explained with a smile, holding out her hand to him. "I'm the Federation ambassador assigned to the Cardassian Union."
"Ah, yes," he said, taking her hand and shaking it. "I thought I recognised your face. I reviewed all files for delegation personnel coming aboard for the summit. Major Toram, at your disposal, Ambassador."
"Thank you, Major, how very helpful," she said, offering him another smile. "I'm afraid that Telor and I got separated from Primarch Damar whilst sight-seeing. We've looked everywhere on the promenade, and he's not in his quarters or on our vessel. I was wondering if you'd be able to help us find him."
"Of course. Computer, please locate Primarch Damar."
"Primarch Damar is located in habitat ring level two, section eight, corridor B-06-P," the station computer replied.
"Is it possible to see a map of that area, in relation to where we are now?" she asked. Toram pressed a button on his console and brought up a schematic diagram. Telor studied it eagerly for a moment.
"I know where that is," he said.
"Thank you for all your help, Major," Gin said.
"No problem, Ambassador. But I'd recommend that your delegation stay close together in future. It's a big station."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Trusting to Telor's memory, she allowed him to lead the way back to the habitat ring, and up in the turbolift to level two. It was a quieter area than level one, where she, and presumably all of the summit delegation members, had been given quarters, and they passed only a pair of Bajorans as they followed the corridor around in a large circular pattern. When she heard Telor sigh with relief, she looked ahead and saw Damar standing in the corridor, looking at something further along the floor. He ignored both Gin and Telor as they approached, and when Gin stepped in front of him, she saw that his gaze was fixed staring at the beige carpeted floor.
"Primarch?" she asked.
"This is where I killed her," he replied.
"Telor, go back to your quarters," she said immediately.
"But—"
"No arguments. Go now."
Telor gave Damar one last look, then made an about-turn and disappeared down the corridor. She could only trust that he had truly obeyed her, and that he wasn't loitering nearby. Turning back to Damar, she studied him for a moment. How long had he been standing here, staring? How many people had walked past, wondering if he was out of his mind? She had to do something, to get him to return to his quarters, where at least if he was going to be crazy, he could be crazy in privacy.
"Where you killed who?" she asked him. When he didn't answer, she offered a suggestion. "Ziyal?"
"I killed her because she betrayed us. Because she betrayed Cardassia. Because she didn't deserve to have a father who loved her as much as Dukat did." His gaze didn't alter at all as he spoke. "This is the first time I've been back here since I murdered her. A young woman, little more than a girl, with her whole life ahead of her. I took that life away."
She closed her eyes. Suddenly, the reason for Damar wanting to attend this conference became clear. He hadn't wanted to come because of the summit. He'd wanted to come so he could stand here and face his own crimes.
"You made a terrible mistake," she admitted gently. "And I think you've paid the price."
"He forgave me," Damar continued, apparently not hearing her words. "Dukat, her father. He forgave me. I think even Garak has forgiven me, in his own strange way. But she hasn't, and she never will. Her face haunts my dreams when I sleep, so I don't."
Her heart went out to him then, because she knew exactly how he felt. She, too, had lain awake at nights blaming herself. She must have done something to cause the death of her unborn child. If only she'd done something differently. Something. Anything. Why had her baby died? In time, she'd come to see it for what it was; a terrible tragedy that wasn't her fault. Sometimes it happened, and nobody could explain it. Admittedly, her anger at Adrian's actions had helped her to overcome her grief.
What Damar faced now was even worse than what she had gone through, because Ziyal's death was his fault. He had pulled the trigger of his weapon and killed an innocent young woman. And worse, though he had condemned her to death for her actions at the time, he had later gone on to repeat those actions himself. She had died in vain because she had been doing the right thing all along, only he hadn't known it then.
This was not a problem that would go away immediately. It couldn't be solved by throwing alcohol at it, nor by merely talking. It was going to stay with him for a very long time – and it deserved to. He had murdered someone. She would have found it far more worrying if he wasn't consumed with guilt over his actions. That he was in turmoil, punishing himself this way, proved that he was not the same man who had so coldly pulled that trigger in the first place. Slowly, the phoenix was rising from the ashes of its own destruction. What it would eventually become was another matter.
"Damar," she said, stepping to his side, not wanting to obstruct his view of the corridor, "there is nobody who can give you what you want—not me, not Garak, not Ziyal herself—nobody who can give you forgiveness, but you. Even if Ziyal could tell you that she forgives you, you would still punish yourself for killing her. That's how a conscience works. Absolution might not come easily. It might never come. Until then, you just have to carry on. Find the strength to keep going. Suffer all of the horrible things that you're feeling. And know that however much you might deserve to be, you're not alone." She reached for his hand, and held it in both of hers for a moment. "I'm ready to listen whenever you're ready to talk. Take as much time as you need."
There was nothing else she could do, so she released his hand and left him. His was not a problem that could be fixed with a few words and a cheerful slap on the shoulder – if indeed his problems ever could be fixed. But it was looking less and less likely that Cardassia's leader would be able to represent his people at this summit. For once in her life, Gin just didn't know what to do.