As soon as Zatara had the ship on course, Meps stood and stretched.
"Okay, it has been nearly twenty hours since I slept," he said, "Are you good if I get some shut-eye?"
Zatara nodded, "We've got about eighteen hours to the destination you've given me. When you're up, I'll get some sleep."
"Sounds like a plan," Meps said around a yawn. He then made his way to the rear of the runabout. Zatara monitored the readouts as she thought about the things Meps had told her, both about himself and his society at large. The man clearly had conviction motivated by his background. She found it interesting that he was willing to throw his entire career away over two young men. Maybe he faced some sort of social stigma on Trill. She could certainly relate to that. Cardassian attitudes toward her physical appearance had, at the best of times, made her life difficult.
Her mind drifted back to the only other Trill with which she had any significant experience.
Zatara pressed the input button for the replicator. "Tojal in Yamok sauce and Regova eggs," she ordered. While the Federation had taken over, the replicators were still Cardassian, and thus did a fantastic job replicating Cardassian food. Her order appeared in a swirl of light. She took it and made her way to a table. Her brother was, yet again, having lunch with Bashir. She didn't want to admit it, but she was becoming resentful of the human doctor.
A few seconds after she sat, another tray dropped onto her table. She looked up to see the only Trill on the station, Jadzia Dax, standing across from her. She was attractive, with brown hair, blue eyes, and a confident smile. That smile disarmed Zatara as she stared at the woman.
"Hi, Zatara Kalces, right?" she asked, "I'm Lieutenant Jadzia Dax, the station's Science officer."
Zatara nodded, "I'm aware."
She smiled, "May I join you?"
Zatara shrugged and gestured to the chair in front of the Trill. She sat. "So," she said, "What's it like being on this station now that Cardassians no longer run it?"
"Too cold, too bright, and too many Federation types running the place," she deadpanned.
"Why did you decide to stay?" she asked, "You clearly don't like it here."
Zatara forced herself not to glance at Garak and Bashir, "I own a club" she said, "A profitable one. I didn't want to leave that behind."
Dax quirked an eyebrow, "And I'm sure your being here has nothing to do with the only other Cardassian on the station." She glanced over Zatara's shoulder.
Zatara casually looked at Garak, then back at Dax, "Him?" she asked, "As I understand it, he's just some tailor."
"Well, I hope you don't mind a lunch companion," she said, "I'd love to get to know you."
Zatara smiled, "I'm not that interesting," she said, "I'm just a simple club owner."
Dax raised an eyebrow, "And Garak is a simple tailor."
Zatara shrugged, "As I understand it."
Dax smiled mischievously, "How did a simple tailor get banished from Cardassia?"
Zatara's face went hard, "Are you insinuating something, Lieutenant?"
Dax's eyes went wide, "Of course not. I was just trying to make conversation. Maybe I should tell you a little about myself."
Zatara waved her hand dismissively, "I am uninterested."
Dax stood, "I've clearly offended you. I'm sorry."
Several days later, Zatara walked up to the table where Jadzia Dax and the station's second in command, Major Kira Nerys, sat eating.
"May I join you?" she asked.
Kira glared at her with undisguised disdain. Dax smiled warmly and said, "Of course."
Zatara sat, "Lieutenant, I feel the need to apologize for the way I spoke to you when you joined me for lunch. You were reaching out to offer friendship and I slapped your hand away."
Kira's eyebrows rose, "A Cardassian apologizing. I never thought I'd see the day."
"Believe it or not, Major," Zatara said cooly, "We are capable of self reflection."
Kira glared back, "Forgive me for being biased. Spending my whole life subjugated has a tendency to do that. But I suppose your answer would be that we're weak and deserved it."
"Weak?" Zatara scoffed in surprise, "Many things can be said of your people, Major, but weak is not one of them. You survived a half century of occupation. You gave Cardassia such a bloody nose that we felt it better to leave you to the Federation. I fought your people on the ground and the very last thing I would call them is weak."
Kira sat in stunned silence for a moment before she said, "That feels like the closest thing I'll ever get to a compliment from a Cardassian."
Dax looked at Zatara with a curious expression.
Over the years on Terok Nor, the station that the Federation had renamed Deep Space Nine, Jadzia and Katara had grown quite a friendship. Much like her brother and the human doctor, they had lunch together most days. One night at the Indigo Room, Zatara's nightclub aboard the station, Dax made her way up to the owner's booth where Zatara spent most nights. She sat heavily, so close to Zatara that she might as well have been in her lap. Dax put an arm around her shoulders and let her head fall onto the cushion of the booth.
"Are you okay, Lieutenant," she asked.
"Better than okay," she answered, "I'm drunk."
Zatara laughed, "Clearly."
One of the selling points of the Indigo Room was that it was one of the very few places that sold actual alcohol, not that pathetic imitation sold everywhere else. Even Quark's couldn't boast that. Odo, the station's chief law enforcement official, had tried to shut down the club several times for that very reason.
Dax brought her other hand around clumsily and laid it dangerously high on Zatara's thigh. She shifted her weight so that she leaned even more heavily on her, then brought her mouth close to the Cardassian's ear.
"Can you guess what I'm thinking about?" she asked breathily as she moved her hand up and down her leg. Zatara suppressed a shiver that tried to run up her spine. Jadzia had always been flirtatious, it was a deeply embedded aspect of her personality. But she had never been this overt. Zatara had always been attracted to the Trill woman, despite her not being Cardassian. Still this sudden attention felt like going from impulse to warp nine.
"Jadzia," she said cautiously, "Are you suggesting-"
"I'm suggesting that we fuck," she interrupted.
"JADZIA!" Zatara cried, scandalized.
"You Cardassians," she said, "You're all about subtlety and double entendre. You never just say what you mean. You're always just a club owner or just a tailor, when you're really a spy or an assassin. I've been hinting for the longest time, but you're too interested in a game of cat and mouse to actually catch the damn mouse. I'm tired of waiting, and I'm too full of liquid courage to not say something. I want you in my bed. Or I want to be in your bed. Or this booth is nice and soft."
"No," Zatara said firmly, "This is not happening."
"Oh, it is," Jadzia said, bringing her hand from Zatara's leg to her face, cupping her cheek and running her thumb along her bottom lip, "I know you want this."
Zatara finally released that shiver. Jadzia smiled. She could clearly feel it. Suddenly, she stood. "Meet me in my quarters in twenty minutes," she commanded, "If I'm wrong, just don't come."
The Trill leaned in close and whispered, as much as one could in a nightclub, "But we both know you'll be there."
The door opened. Zatara walked in, hating the fact that Jadzia had been absolutely correct about her.
"Jadzia?" she called.
"In here," came her voice from the other room.
Zatara stepped around the corner to see the bedroom. On a large double bed in the middle of the room, Jadzia Dax lay totally naked, her hands tied loosely to the frame above her.
"I'm your helpless captive," she said, "And you need me to spill all my Federation secrets."
Zatara smiled. It was going to be a good night.
The next day, Jadzia walked up to the table where Zatara sat with her lunch. The Trill had no food, only a large mug. She took a long swig.
"Raktajino?" She asked.
"Yes," she answered, "I don't think I can take solid food right now."
"That's the thing about real alcohol," she said, "When you get drunk, you're borrowing happiness from the next day."
There was brief silence as Jadzia took another sip. She set her mug down and said, "About last night."
Zatara reached out, touching her fingers to the back of Jadzia's hand, "That can never happen again."
"Oh, I know," she said. She leaned in and whispered, "But we both needed it to happen once."
Suddenly, her face lost expression as it turned pale green.
"Excuse me," she said as she practically ran from the table toward the public restrooms. Zatara chuckled and shook her head.
Zatara basked in the memory a bit longer when Meps walked in, yawning.
"Are you sure you got enough sleep?" she asked, "You've only been out for less than five hours."
Meps chuckled, "Even for a Trill, I don't need a lot of sleep. If I get six hours, I'm over rested."
"Do Trill sleep less than other species?" Zatara asked.
Meps nodded, "Most Trill sleep an average six hours. Some of us, like me, sleep even less. Though that is pretty rare. You're probably pretty tired. Get some sleep. When you wake up, we'll both be fresh for meeting our next recruit."
Zatara nodded, "Alright, but make sure I'm awake at least a couple of hours before we get there."
"Don't worry," he said, "We're still more than thirteen hours out. You'll have plenty of time to sleep and also make yourself presentable."
Zatara was out of bed, bathed, and refreshed long before Meps' voice called over the intercom, "When you're ready, come to the bridge."
When she walked in, she saw Meps at the helm controls and a Federation space station on the view screen.
"Runabout, please identify yourself," a female voice said over the comm.
"This is the runabout Nile requesting permission to dock." Meps replied. There was a moment of silence before the woman responded, "Permission granted. Please proceed to bay D twenty-four."
"Acknowledged," Meps answered.
"So we're docking?" Zatara asked, "We're not doing some covert transport that won't get traced because of some virus in the system."
Meps laughed, "I can see how I've given you that impression, but no. This runabout has legitimate Federation credentials. Sometimes, it's easier to operate within the system. And to that end…" He produced a set of clothes. From the splash of red, Zatara could tell they were Starfleet uniforms.
"Do I have to?" Zatara asked.
"Yup," Meps answered, "This is our approach. Dr. Razib is Starfleet. We'll need to convince him. This is the best way."
Zatara rolled her eyes, "Fine. What's our cover story?"
"Until we can get him alone," Meps answered, "We're off hours fleet patrol. Dr. Razib is a veteran. He'll respond."
"Give me a day." She said.
"What?" Meps asked.
"Give me a day," she answered, "I'll have him asking to join by then."
"Do you-" he started.
"Yes," she interrupted, "I still want the uniform."
Zatara, in a Federation uniform with commander's pips, walked up to the table. Several heads turned in her direction. There was a range of species, from Vulcan, to Adnorian, to Klingon, to Human. She sat and looked as the Edosain dealer, who had a cigar in his mouth.
"Alright," She said, laying down a few strips of latinum, "Deal me in."
The Edosian chuckled, dealing her cards, "Alright Commander, but it's your play."
Zatara looked at the cards she had and smiled, "Acquire."