Zatara, dressed in her Starfleet Commander disguise, pressed the alert button for the office of the station commander.
"Come," came a voice over the comm.
The door slid open to reveal a remarkably unremarkable Starfleet Commander's office. Several trinkets, including model Federation ships, sat on the shelves lining the walls. An unrecognizable brass model, surely from some antiquated human tradition, sat on the commander's desk.
"Commander Jones?" Zatara asked.
The man behind the desk nodded.
Zatara produced a PADD, "I am Commander Lacil Nasik. I'm here with transfer orders for Lieutenant Zapphia Stargazer and Dr. Re Razib. I assume they've already briefed you on the assignment."
"As much as they were able," the commander said, holding out his hand. Zatara handed over the PADD. He perused it briefly before casually tossing it on the desk.
"I'll be honest, Commander," he said, "I am not happy about losing one of my best officers and my latest in a long line of chief medical officers. Especially to a classified assignment."
"I understand, Commander," Zatara said, "But believe me, they'll do far more good for the Federation on this classified assignment."
Jones raised an eyebrow, "Are you implying something about my command?"
"Merely that it's safe," Zatara responded, "We're deep in Federation territory, there's no serious military threats. Zap was trolling for Tongo cheats when I met him. Does he have that little to do?"
"We're a major transport and shipping hub," Jones said, his voice slightly raised.
"I'm not saying that your work isn't important," Zatara commented, "Only that it's safe. And safe assignments don't make history."
"Neither do classified ones,"Jones quipped, "I know Cardassians are paranoid, but things kept in the dark don't belong in the Federation."
Zatara shrugged, "I understand there is going to be a party for your officers."
Jones nodded, "It's more for Zap than for Dr. Razib. He's only been here a few weeks. But they'll both be there. And no, you're not invited."
"I wasn't asking to attend," she responded coolly, "I want to be sure they're ready to go at seven hundred hours tomorrow."
"They'll be ready," he said, then waved a hand vaguely in her direction, "Dismissed."
Zatara bristled, "You don't dismiss me, commander. We're the same rank."
Jones stood and leaned forward, his hands on his desk, "You bloody Carnies need to learn some respect. And frankly, you deserved what the Dominion did to you. If it were up to me, the Federation would leave Cardassia to lie in the bed it made for itself."
"Then I suppose it's a good thing it isn't, and will never be, up to you," she said.
Jones sneered, "Maybe, but for right now, you're on my station and in my office. Dis. Missed."
Zatara glared at him for a second longer before turning and marching out.
"Of course you're invited," Zap said enthusiastically, "It'll help sell the cover story."
"Besides," Razib added, "You learn a lot about a person by how they relax."
The two sat with Meps in the ward room of the runabout.
"I don't know," The Trill said, "My entire thing is going unnoticed."
"Oh come on!" Zap exclaimed, "It'll be fun."
The door hissed open and Zatara walked in. She looked at Razib and Zap, "You two have a party to get to. I need to speak to Meps for a moment."
"You should consider coming," Razib said to Meps.
Once the two were gone, Zatara let go of a growl.
"You okay?" Meps asked cautiously.
"The unmitigated arrogance of that man!"
Meps' eyebrows rose, "Commander Jones? What happened?"
Zatara described the conversation to him, "And then, he had the gall to dismiss me. Even I know you don't dismiss someone of your same rank."
Meps shrugged, "That's racist as hell, but technically-"
"Shut up!" Zatara shouted, "I know that, but he doesn't. He should have given me the respect he would give any other commanding officer."
"Kalces," Meps said, but she ignored him.
"I'll kill him," she said, "I'll mix a poison, make it look like a heart attack. That will teach him some respect." She looked at Meps, "You could take it with you to the party tonight. You can do that weird thing you do and slip it into his drink."
"I'm not doing that," he said.
Suddenly, she was nose to nose with him, holding him by the collar, "Oh you will. I'm ordering you to. Or did you not mean what you said to me in my home?"
He glared at her, "I'm not going to kill a random station commander and endanger our mission just because you got your feelings hurt."
The strike was sudden. Meps' head rang with the pain of her punch. He had trouble breathing. He realized with surprise that she had a strong hand around his throat. The look in her eyes terrified him. Fighting to stay conscious, he reached into the hidden pocket of his uniform and pulled his phaser. She was so focused on his face, she didn't see as he put it between them and fired.
Her body flew backward and landed with a thud. She shook her head and looked at him with obvious surprise.
"If you ever endanger the mission again," he said, his voice raw but hardened with resolve, "I'll kill you. This is your only warning."
Slowly, she stood, rubbing the wrinkles out of her clothes, "Don't ever threaten me again."
Meps gave her a moment to fume before speaking again. "You're wrong about Jones."
"Oh, so you think how he treated me was somehow okay?" she snapped.
"No, it was incredibly racist," he answered, "but it didn't come from a place of arrogance. You're right about him and his assignment. The man is in his fifties and still a commander precisely because he took the safe assignment. You hit him right where he is most insecure."
She didn't say anything. Meps sighed, "Look, if you promise not to try to strangle me again, I'll buy you a drink. This place has a few good bars."
After a tense moment, her face dropped, "Fine, let me change."
She left the room. Once she was out of sight, Meps replaced his weapon. He grabbed his jacket, one specifically designed to be worn over his uniform. It was gray with dark trim and a false collar. It hid his comm badge and made the outfit decidedly more civilian looking.
He walked through the door to see Zatara in a black evening gown with a slit up the side that was scandalously high. The dark black against the pale skin of her bare shoulders created a pleasing contrast. She was quite stunning.
"Wow," was all he could think to say.
She smiled at him, "I know. Now, how about that drink."
Meps held out his hand, and the two walked toward the airlock.
"Where were you keeping that phaser," she asked.
Meps chuckled, "Given that you tried to kill me a few minutes ago, and now we're going for drinks, I think it's best you not know."
"I didn't think there were any Cardassians in Starfleet," Nurse Collens, a human woman, said.
"Neither did I," Zap answered, "But I guess there are a few."
"So what can you tell us?" Lieutenant Luran, the female Bajoran science officer asked.
Zap shrugged, "Only that it has something to do with rebuilding efforts on Cardassia."
"He's taking out the head of the Z'Braksis corporation," said Torfis. He was a former borg. His original species was unknown, though definitely not anything from the Alpha Quadrant. He was withdrawn most of the time, and his social skills needed work, but his analysis skills were unparalleled. Zap tamped down on a slight internal panic.
"What makes you say that?" Zap asked.
"By the Prophets, he's right, isn't he?" Luran asked.
"Hang on," Zap said with forced calmness, "I want to know the thought process here."
Torfis looked at him, but quickly averted his eyes, "The rebuild effort is going to require large amounts of pergium. Currently, the largest supplier of purgium is the Z'Braksis corporation. Z'Braksis has a neutral attitude toward the Federation. But if they were taken out of the picture, the Tigan family, which is friendly to the Federation, could easily move into the top spot for pergium production."
Zap leaned back, impressed, "I can neither confirm nor deny."
"Wait," Collens said, "That means he's right?"
"Well," Zap said, "You didn't hear it from me. Also, I expect you to keep your mouths shut."
Zatara and Meps sat at the bar of Tallon's, a restaurant run by a Betazed. The bartender, a human of average height and weight, ambled over and asked for drink orders.
"Kanar for the lady," Meps said, "And I'll take bourbon on the rocks. Something aged more than ten years if you have it."
"Ah, a connoisseur," The bartender said and turned around to his liquor shelf.
"How did you know I wanted kanar?" she asked. Meps merely raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, fair enough. But bourbon? That's pretty specific. And very human." Zatara asked.
Meps shrugged, "I acquired a taste for it while at the Academy on Earth. I'm a little surprised you know what that is."
Zatara smiled, "I ran a nightclub on a Federation run station for years."
The bartender returned with their drinks. The glass he put before Zatara was a dark, almost black liquid while the one he put before Meps held an amber liquid and ice.
Meps picked up his glass and held it aloft, "To you, Zatara Kalces, one of the most fascinating people I have ever known."
"And to you, Axon Meps," she replied, "For being one of the very few to survive my attempt to kill you."
They drank.
"I suspect you weren't actually trying to kill me," Meps said.
Zatara's eyes widened, "Oh?"
Meps took another sip of his drink and nodded, "I think if you really wanted me dead, I'd be dead. This felt more like an emotional reaction. Like you were venting."
"Venting?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said, "Like you didn't actually want me dead, but you were letting the universe know that you could kill me if you wanted."
"You are perceptive," she said.
He shrugged "Well, being able to go unseen like I can, you learn to watch people. It's one of the things that makes me good at this job."
"How so?" she asked.
"Assassination missions, for example," he answered, "You know all about learning a persons routine. How long would you say it takes you to learn someone's routine, decide on a method, and execute?"
"Depends on the target," she mused, "But usually within a month."
Meps nodded, "That's pretty standard. If I'm being cautious, I can do it inside a week."
Zatara almost choked on her drink, "What? No way."
He nodded, sipping his own drink, "I'm the guy they call when something needs to happen right now."
She sipped her own drink as she considered. She glanced over and saw a sizable bruise growing on his jaw where she had hit him. She felt a tad guilty, but she stomped that out right away.
"You said I was wrong about Jones," she said, "What makes you think that?"
He smirked, but then winced, tenderly touching the bruise, "You pack quite a punch. Everyone, and I mean everyone who joins Starfleet, especially those of us that go to the Academy, do so because we're trying to make our mark on the universe. We want to be remembered. We want to serve on the flagship, negotiate a peace treaty, make first contact, be taught about at the Academy. We all want to be Kirk or Picard or hell, Sisko."
Zatara nodded, "I have a great deal of respect for that man."
"My point is," he continued, "We join Starfleet to make history. Nobody joins to push papers or run a transport hub."
"Is that why you joined Starfleet?" she asked ruefully.
Meps swallowed his sip of bourbon, "Yes. I wanted to engage in deep space exploration. I wanted to make first contact with an as yet unknown species."
"But now you work for an organization whose actions, in your own words, look like the natural chaos of the galaxy. You're not going to be in any history books."
Meps stared at his drink, "Yeah, that's something me and my ego have had to come to terms with."
He turned to face her fully, "But that doesn't matter. I've learned, as you already know, that it's about the consequences of your actions, not how many people know about them. If I can ensure that a child born on Cardassia today will live in safety and have a chance to make her world better, I don't care if my name is lost to history. And that is why Section 31 is so important. Like I said before, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Or in my case, the needs of the one."
Just then, a hand appeared on Zatara's shoulder. A ruggedly handsome human with a square jaw, very dark quaffed hair, and a beard carefully trimmed to look like a day's growth of stubble stood before them.
"Hi there," he said to her, "You want to dance with me."
"No, I most certainly do not," she responded.
"Come on, Baby," the man said, obviously drunk, "A woman doesn't wear a dress like that to sit alone at the bar."
"She's not alone," Meps said forcefully. The man looked blearily at him.
"Sorry man," he said, "I didn't see you. Don't worry, I'll have your Carnie girlfriend back to you in one or two songs."
Before Zatara could react, Meps was on his feet. "Say that again. I dare you."
The guy scoffed, "Say what? Carnie girlfriend?"
Quicker than Zatara could follow, Meps' fist hit the interloper square in the jaw. He fell backward and landed with a thud.
"I can take care of myself," Zatara said, "You didn't need to do that."
Meps shook his hand loosely, "Yeah, but I really, really wanted to."
"HANDS UP!" came a command from the entrance. Two security officers were holding phasers on them.
Zatara sighed and rolled her eyes, "Now who's endangering the mission?"