[Detapa Council Chambers, Cardassia Prime]

The room exploded with voices both angry and pleased at the sudden proposal that had been distributed to each of the members, a project proposed by the Chairman herself. Without actually reading more than a few lines of the document, a clear division appeared in the Council Chambers. On one side of the fissure stood the traditionalists, who abhorred the idea on principle alone, never mind the implications it would have if such lunacy was allowed to carry on. On the other, the iconoclasts, who saw the project for all the potential gain it could bring the Cardassian people. The room seemed to exemplify the two traits that summed up the species in the minds of outsiders; xenophobia and opportunism.

“This is madness! You can’t possibly expect us to tolerate such a reckless endeavor! Have you no pride as a Cardassian?!” one of the more outspoken traditionalists bellowed over his comrades.

“And just how many lek do you suppose pride is worth, Counselor? How many hot meals would you suppose you could get from it? How many shirts for your back? How nice a home do you suppose you could get from your pride alone?” the Chairman asked in a low voice, forcing the room into silence by the sheer gravity of her question.

The incredulous look on the man’s face was to be expected from someone who believed wholeheartedly that Cardassian pride was the foundation of their race, but it came as a shock to his own fellows when he muttered, “None…”

Several of the traditionalists sucked in a breath at the sudden admission, though they hardly had better answers to offer in his place. On the other hand, the iconoclasts started nodding their heads as if it were simply the natural order of things.

“Pride is a thing to be cherished,” Chairman Rekal continued, which in turn had the mouths of the iconoclasts dropping from shock.

Murmurs erupted in the Council chamber as both sides struggled to come to terms with what Rekal had just said. In one breath she had admonished foolish pride, and in the next she had called it something to be venerated.

“But as of late, Cardassian pride means next to nothing, is worth nothing in the current age. I’ve heard the cries you and your associates make, about how Cardassia was a great place, a point of envy in all respects… And always you say ‘was’ as if you are trying to convince yourself that it is so. You praise the past and confuse it for the present because it is much more palatable for you to do so. That is part of the reason why so many of our frontier worlds have fallen into the hands of the Central Command,” the Chairman continued.

The room grew tense as the statement left her mouth, the eyes of everyone in the Council chamber searching for someone to pin the blame on. It was so typical and seemed so natural to them that Rekal couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“See?! The moment someone mentions a failure, you all start looking for who must take the blame. This is what Cardassian pride has been reduced to, ladies and gentlemen… We pride ourselves on not being able to adapt to a situation, and seek to simply shove it off on someone and dispose of them and the problem with them. Sad to say, that will not save us any longer,” the woman remarked as she picked up the PaDD with the proposal on it.

“This project is the way forward, my friends, because it is the only way we have never tried before. I told you once before that I intended to do something that Central Command would neither like nor expect,” Rekal said, harkening back to a distant meeting the occupants of the room had been a part of.

More than a few people on both sides of the divide began to shift uncomfortably at the recollection of that meeting. If this was the Chairman making good on her promise to confound Central Command, it took several leaps away from anything the individuals gathered in the room would have considered possible or even sane. It took a few minutes for the gathered politicians to return to their seats and actually give the document a fair chance, but in the end they had at least given it a fair look.

“It’s ambitious…” the leader of the traditionalist faction finally remarked after the room had gotten at handle on the proposal, “Do we even have the spare resources for it?”

“There is a station in an adequate location that would serve the function well enough,” Rekal answered with a smirk.

“What about manning? Garrisoning a station will require a large investiture in manpower and goods,” another of the traditionalists piped up.

“What we can’t provide, I’m certain our… guests… will be able to compensate for,” the smirk on the Chairman’s face deepened even further.

“How can you be so certain they will even entertain this idea, let alone allocate resources to it?” the traditionalist leader inquired with a frown.

“If we are known for our lofty pride, the same assumption could be made for their willingness to grab hold of an opportunity to win us over to their idealistic vision of the galaxy,” Rekal almost cackled as she thought of how easily the plan would actually be accepted.

Despite themselves, most of the iconoclasts seemed hesitant to agree, even if the plan was everything they could have asked for in terms of opening the doors to a near endless stream of possibilities for the Cardassian people. As lofty as their ideals might have been, they were all still Cardassians deep down, and they still didn’t completely believe in the worth of the greater galactic community as ‘equals’.

“It is a risk, I will admit that to you freely,” the Chairman continued to push her agenda, “But if it succeeds, we will gain a foothold that might very well pave the way to the restoration of not just our economy, not just our supremacy over the Cardassian people, but the pride that we have so often spoken of as a distant memory. If our pride is worth nothing now, what harm would it truly do to reach forward toward a day when it could again mean everything?”

Again, a murmur filled the room, but this time it wasn’t divided staunchly by anger or elation, but the calm drone of the Council weighing the idea in a manner that any other proposal of far less controversial substance would be afforded. The debates in the Council chamber lasted for several hours, emotions naturally flaring and subsiding, but in the end the two factions found it within themselves to unite on a common front, that being that the future survival of the Cardassian people was worth taking a risk that they had never considered before. And that risk would take place on a station designated as Empok Nor.

[Chairman Rekal’s Office, Detapa Council Building, Cardassia Prime]
[The following day]

“Things are moving rather briskly,” the Chairman’s aide said with a smirk as he handed over the documents he’d been holding.

“As they should, Vilnak,” Rekal said with a slight lilt in her voice.

Vilnak gave the woman a short chuckle in response to her confident declaration, “I suppose it is only natural at this point. Having suffered greatly in recent years thanks to Central Command and their never ending crusade to champion the ideals of the past, even our traditionalist counterparts have been forced to take a long, hard look at what is really important to the survival of the Cardassian people.”

“I never said that I wasn’t of a traditional mind,” Rekal mused in a low voice as she gazed at the documents before her. Most of the Council had assumed, given that she was the originator of the plan, that Rekal was in the iconoclast camp. The fact that she hadn’t outright denied the assumptions of her colleagues had only added fuel to the fires of their misinterpretations of the situation. And it was those very misconceptions that had secured the support she had needed to see her ‘great experiment’ come to life.

“I would hazard to guess that you are less a traditionalist these days, and are merely a pragmatist that appreciates the power that the old ways have on swaying the more stubborn members of the Council,” Vilnak said as he talked over to the desk he usually occupied during the normal work day.

“Perhaps,” Rekal said with a noncommittal shrug. The statement may have been slightly correct, but it wasn’t worth clarifying the parts that weren’t entirely true. As long as the two of them had worked together, Rekal still didn’t implicitly trust her aide or his ability to keep tidbits that might cause intrigue among the Council to himself. She had already tested it enough to know where the bounds of his ability to keep information hidden were, and knew not to allow him any more than half-truths and convenient misdirection.

“Have you finished compiling the list of candidates for the project?” Rekal asked as she happened upon a logistics report.

“All but the most important position, yes. You should have that in the stack,” Vilnak responded without looking up from his work.

Rekal rifled through the paperwork until she found the documents she wanted, and gave them a thorough examination before nodding to herself. The list contained enough people from both sides of the current divide of opinion in the Council. It would prove the most effective test of not only their own ability to adapt as Cardassians, but their guests’ ability to integrate with them. Problems would no doubt surface, and conflict was inevitable given the diversity with which their guests would no doubt choose their own representatives for the experiment. It would be a rather tenuous position to be placed in charge of such a unique project, something that would not appeal to any but the most foolhardy of Cardassian officers. And even then, Rekal wasn’t entirely sure the fools would fall for such a post so willingly or easily.

“If I may…” Vilnak spoke up after taking notice of the tight look on the Chairman’s face.

“Hmm…” Rekal said as her eyes floated up to the man across the room.

“I had a few thoughts on who might fit as the attending Legate of the station. There are some exceptional Guls who have remained loyal to the Cardassian people who might make suitable leaders for your project,” the aide said, his lips curving upward in the start of a smile.

“I’m sure you suggest this purely for the good of Cardassia,” Rekal said, her tone muddled enough not to betray just how little faith she had in his altruistic nature.

“But of course,” Vilnak said, declining his head in a show of reverence for the idea of service to his people.

“Submit your suggestions, though I may decide to go with someone other than the ones who you put forward if I feel them to be better suited,” Rekal said, not forgetting to add the small caveat that his attempt at stacking the deck might not avail him.

“I have no doubt that no matter who you choose, it will be for the betterment of our goals, Chairman,” Vilnak smiled, already basking in a victory he hadn’t actually secured.

[Chairman Rekal’s Office, Detapa Council Building, Cardassia Prime]
[One week later]

Chairman Rekal sat behind her desk, eying the Cardassian Gul sitting in the chair directly opposite her position. The woman sitting before the Chairman had the proud aura of a Cardassian Gul, though it was less about the position itself and more a matter of her own accomplishments and deeds that was the source of this pride. She was one of the younger Guls to be promoted in the wake of the Central Command’s ‘dissention’ which meant that while she was in the military, her allegiance had been with the Council rather than the Legates who were attempting to steer the Cardassian people into what even Rekal would have considered nothing but a Dark Age.

“Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to speak with you today, Chairman,” the woman said in an attempt to stick to etiquette.

“Quite,” Rekal nodded unenthusiastically at the platitudes, “So tell me, Gul Aren, why did you agree to speak with me about the position? I understand that you are fairly ambitious, but having your own ship so early in your career should have already been enough to sate your appetite for advancement. Why give that up for a post on the edge of Cardassian space?”

“Because I see it as an opportunity, Chairman,” came the rather blunt response as the Gul shifted slightly in her chair to rest an elbow on one of the armrests, “Commanding a ship was a goal I had in mind for myself for a good little while, but I find that being deployed to put out small fires all over the Union has less appeal to it than when I was a young woman looking up to her first Gul.”

“Understandable,” Rekal conceded the point that such missions tended to be extremely monotonous and scarcely held the prestige that a young, up and coming officer might thirst for. The fact that she could readily admit that such assignments were tiresome was also a trait to be admired, many officers had been given positions they had initially asked for, and found themselves never able to grow beyond them, stagnating and being replaced with younger and far more hungry men and women.

Rekal mulled her next question for a few moments before asking, “Do you feel that you could work with a crew composed of Federation officers and staff on equal footing, Gul Aren?”

“I don’t believe it would be too difficult a challenge, no,” the woman shook her head slightly.

“Why not?”

“As I said, it is an opportunity,” the Gul said with a smirk, “No matter how you might go about painting the picture for the Federation to make the idea palatable, at the end of the day it is a means to an end. We lack the resources and the support to truly unite the Union as it was in my parents’ day. Clinging to old hopes of yesteryear will do us no good in this day and age. No matter how much it might hurt our pride, and go against our instincts… We must survive.”

“Spoken like a true Cardassian,” Rekal’s lips curled into a smirk, “But do you believe that?”

The shrug that erupted from the Gul wasn’t entirely expected, and it made the smirk on Rekal’s lips drop a bit.

“It isn’t really a matter of what I really believe, Chairman. If that is the line that will make the Federation accept the plan, to acquiesce to our wishes and cooperate with us, then I will make certain no one doubts that it is our belief,” Aren said without any hint of shame for the outright lie.

“Even if you are forced to aid the Federation over your own people in this endeavor?” the Chairman asked, an eyebrow raised.

“The goal is to secure resources and allies from outside the Union to benefit our people, correct?” the Gul countered the question with a question.

“It is, yes,” Rekal nodded.

“Then the means by which it is accomplished are trivial,” the woman responded without missing a beat.

For the first time, Rekal’s face eased into a natural smile at hearing those words. They were the only ones that had any sincerity behind them, the only ones that weren’t passed through the filter of ambition or agenda. They were as close to the truth as any Cardassian might dare to speak aloud in a place other than their deathbed.

“Very well. We will be in touch soon,” Rekal said dismissively.

Gul Aren didn’t waste time asking if the position was hers or not, nor did she offer the Chairman much more than a curt nod. Aren knew she had secured the position simply by the flow of the conversation, knew that soon she would be given her transfer orders and a measure of freedom she had yearned for. The freedom to lead the charge toward a better future for her people.

As the doors to Rekal’s office slid closed behind the retreating Gul, Chairman Rekal couldn’t help but smile triumphantly to herself. She’d managed to find exactly the kind of person she was looking for, and it hadn’t come from the list her aide had provided her, which meant that if anyone would be using the Gul as a puppet for their purposes, it would be her and her alone. The Chairman let out a small sigh of contentment into the silent and empty room before returning her focus to the work ahead.

“So much still to do…” Rekal hummed to herself almost melodically as she basked in the momentary victory.

[Gul Aren’s Private Quarters, CUS Elbrin]
[Three Days Later]

The ship’s Communications Officer woke Aren out of her sleep with a priority message from Cardassia Prime. Because she had been sleeping for several hours already, it took a few moments for her to gather her unruly hair into something resembling a presentable appearance before she finally sank down in front of her quarters’ desk and accepted the communication.

“Gul Aren,” the face of the Chairman flashed onto her screen.

“Chairman Rekal,” the woman replied in kind before adding, “What are your orders?”

“You are to divert your ship to the enclosed coordinates. Once you and your personal gear has been transferred, you will order your ship to return to Cardassia Prime,” Rekal explained, pleased that the Gul was so quick to understand the purpose of her communication.

“At once,” Aren responded resolutely.

Rekal waited a few moments before speaking again, “Also, you will be given the rank of Legate for the duration of the… experiment. Should your performance prove to be of substantial merit during this endeavor, the appointment will be made permanent. Good luck… Cardassia out.”

The screen reverted to a situational readout, which Aren promptly used to find the coordinates that had been provided to her, as well as to confirm her appointment to Legate. When she located both items and ensured that nothing was amiss with either of them, Aren allowed herself a mirthful grin before setting about getting dressed.

Once she was sure that she was presentable, Legate Aren departed her quarters, making her way quickly to the bridge of the ship that would soon no longer be hers. The spring in her step was uncharacteristic of her, but not so much so that she felt she needed to stifle it. After all… she had every reason to be elated at her fortune at the moment.

Entering the bridge of the Elbrin, Legate Aren approached the command chair, which was swiftly vacated by the wide eyed Glinn who manned the night watch on the bridge. There were several crewmen who gave their now former Gul quizzical looks, but true to form, Aren felt absolutely no need to explain anything to them and merely began issuing orders to the crew, setting them on course to meet with the station she would soon take command of. Once she had ensured that everything on the bridge was taken care of, she had the Gil manning the communications console to contact her Executive Officer and have him meet her in her office.

It took very little time to walk from the bridge to her office on the ship, and it appeared that whatever had been passed along by the Gil had prompted her XO to run from his quarters to her office. While the man walked in attempting to look as composed as possible, it was obvious by the sweat glistening on his forehead that he had made a great effort to be as punctual as possible.

“Dal Temek,” the new Legate said with a smirk on her face, “It would appear that I have been reassigned. Prior to my departure, however, I have some final orders for you from the Council, more to the point, from the Chairman herself.”

“I see…” the man straightened up, his mind already starting to work out how the conversation was going to play out.

“I’ve diverted the ship to Empok Nor,” Legate Aren began, prompting a confused look on the man’s face.

“I’ve never heard of that station…” the man admitted after trying to decide if such an admission was acceptable.

“Nor had I until a little while ago when I was given its coordinates. It was supposedly an old Obsidian Order station that was hidden from public knowledge just inside of our borders. It is in a small star system that has almost no economic value to the Union or anyone else. The perfect location to conduct all manner of operations in obscurity, wouldn’t you agree?” the Legate continued.

“It wouldn’t be the first time the old Obsidian Order had buried something away for ‘safekeeping’,” Temek said with an unimpressed look on his face.

“The old Order was rather fond of the practice, yes,” Aren nodded at the man’s statement, “But that isn’t what matters. I have been assigned as the station’s commander. I will be departing the ship once we arrive. Once I have been transferred over, you will take the Elbrin back to Cardassia Prime. That comes directly from the Council, so I would assume they mean to debrief you and inform you and the crew what your next assignment will be.”

“Very well, Legate,” the man said, nodding curtly to the woman sitting behind the desk.

“I would advise you to keep knowledge of our destination as quiet as you can, Temek. It is a rather important endeavor in the eyes of the Council, and I’m certain that their choice of location and its obscurity were no accidental choices. I would hate to see you or the crew disposed of to protect a secret…” Aren warned with no small bit of personal satisfaction at being able to issue such an obvious threat.

“I will make sure the crew is discreet about the destination, and what they might see while we are there,” Temek said.

“Oh… none of you will be setting foot on the station. You will drop me off and then depart immediately,” Aren smiled.

“Ah…” the man said, his face contorting indignantly for a moment.

“If you would, go to the bridge and ensure that the officers there understand the situation, and have them man their stations until you are on your way back to Cardassia Prime to minimize the possibility of issues,” the Legate asked in a manner that allowed for no refusal.

Dal Temek nodded in understanding and headed back out of the Legate’s office to carry out her instructions. When she was left alone, Legate Aren began the somewhat simple task of gathering her belongings to make ready for the transfer that was awaiting her in just a few short hours.

[Legate Aren’s Quarters, Empok Nor]
[Following Day]

Aren awoke earlier than she normally would, a mixture of nerves and the new environment playing a role in it in equal parts. The quarters that were designated to her by virtue of her position were lavish by the standards of even her former position as a Gul, as if to accentuate the clear difference in the two posts. There was almost nothing about her accommodations that didn’t scream opulence. It would take some getting used to, but in the back of her mind, Aren didn’t imagine herself undeserving of it in the least.

The Legate rose languidly from her bed, fully aware that she had ample time before she would need to make her way to Station Ops and present herself to the new crew that she would be taking command of. Before that, however, Aren opted to use the bathing facilities in her quarters, allowing herself the luxury of an actual bath, vice a sonic shower like she would generally use. It was a worthwhile expenditure of time to indulge, as it made her much more relaxed and ready to confront the day.

Thanks to the rather traditional mindset inherent in Cardassian design, Empok Nor was identical in layout to most of the other Nor-class stations she’d been on, making it rather pointless to wander the corridors to familiarize herself with the place. Most of the station’s facilities were currently sitting empty, with even the promenade ring hosting only a small bar run by a Cardassian civilian who’d been a member of the crew for some time before leaving active service. The rest of the spaces were left open in hopes that commerce would soon find itself a place on the quiet outpost.

It was a bit disconcerting that everything was so subdued, almost devoid of life. The few Cardassians that occupied the spaces weren’t really engaging in much conversation, and what little did take place was mostly post-work banter that was a universal topic no matter the culture. If the attitudes of the crew that were on the station was any indicator, she would already have a problem keeping them occupied while things got underway. It made the thought of having breakfast in her new office a more appealing prospect than sitting at the replimat facility listening to disinterested blather.

Finding the nearest lift that would take her to Station Ops, Aren abandoned the somewhat leisurely stroll in favor of getting down to business. The lift ride gave her ample time to compose herself and her thoughts before she stepped out into the Operations Center of her new station to find that it was at least a little busier than the promenade had been.

“Legate Aren,” a female Dalin approached, “Welcome to Ops. At the moment, there isn’t anything especially exciting happening on the station, so I’m afraid a situation report might bore you.”

“The walk from my quarters clued me in to how… tranquil… the station was at the moment. Where is my First Officer?” the Legate asked, sweeping her eyes over the various people in the room to see who might fit the bill.

The Dalin in front of her shifted uncomfortably, “That would… be me… Legate.”

“Oh…” Aren said as she raised an inquisitive eyebrow for a moment before shaking off the mild shock of the information, “Very well then, Dalin…”

“Nefet,” the woman offered up in response.

“Dalin Nefet,” Aren nodded, committing the name to memory, “I am Legate Aren, and I formally assume command of this station.”

“The station is yours, Legate,” the Dalin nodded respectfully before moving to the side to allow the Legate to pass by her.

Aren crossed the expanse between the lift cluster and the office that stood on the opposite side of the room, mounting the stairs without wasting any time wandering around Ops. The door to her office slid open to allow her entry, and Aren wasted no time sinking down into the chair behind the desk to begin the day’s work, such as it currently was. It was almost by accident that the Legate looked up to find the Dalin standing just inside the doorway.

“Yes?” was all Aren bothered to ask in response to the younger woman.

“I was wondering if I could speak with you for a moment, Legate,” came the subdued response to Aren’s somewhat impatient query.

“If you must,” the Legate sighed and motioned to the chairs in front of her desk.

The Dalin took a moment to close the distance between them, but chose not to sit. Once her hands were folded behind her back in a disciplined manner, Nefet began to speak.

“The station’s crew has come to me wishing to know the purpose for our deployment to this station that no one had heard of until we were handed orders and shifted off here. With the exception of our bartender, who swears he’s been on this station for years, there isn’t a soul here who has been here longer than a week… myself included. We were given no formal briefing as to our mission, and no explanation as to why we are here. Aside from keeping the station operational, we haven’t had anything else to really do…” Nefet explained at length.

“We are here at the will of the Chairman of the Detapa Council, Dalin, and that is all that anyone on this station should need to know. We are serving the greater good of the Cardassian people by being here, and it is that service that brought everyone to this station. Until I decide that further information is prudent, that is all you and the crew are required to know. If things do not work out in a manner that the Council believes they will, there will be no reason to brief anyone further as there will be nothing to brief. This station will continue to operate here in secret and we will all go about our dreary little lives without end, until the Council has need of us elsewhere,” Legate Aren said firmly.

“Very well, Legate, I will pass that word along,” the Dalin said with a somewhat disappointed lilt to her voice.

“See that you do…” Aren said as she turned away from the woman. Thankfully the Dalin was astute enough to take it as a sign that she was dismissed and headed back out into the main Operations area to begin the task of detailing their current marching orders, which was basically to carry on in the dark until there was something to pass along to them.

[Ops, Empok Nor]
[Two weeks later]

The establishment of a routine had become the primary concern for everyone occupying Empok Nor, Legate Aren being no exception. The lack of visitors to the station, as would normally be the case for a Nor, meant that the station took on the feel of a deep space mission that didn’t actually go anywhere. Monotony and boredom were rampant aboard, thanks in no small part to most of the spaces being empty and unutilized for any manner of diversion on the Promenade. Even going to the bar felt more a chore than a diversion, since it was only stocked with what was available in the Union, a selection that was sparse to say the least.

Legate Aren was, as was now part of her routine, parsing through the various section reports that had been submitted to her the evening before. It was painfully obvious that even the department heads on the station had fallen into the rut of routine. Most of them were now carbon copies of the previous day’s report with no effort expended to even modify the wording of them. The humor of this descent into tedium was not lost on the Legate, the tiny smirk dancing on her lips was proof enough of that.

The Legate let out a small sigh as she sank back into the rather comfortable chair that sat behind her desk. Even though she knew the reason behind the station being where it was, and the reason it was being kept a secret, that didn’t stop her from wondering if the council would actually be able to pull off the ‘grand plan’ and incite their intended participants from going through with the scheme they’d concocted. Aren had been part of the Cardassian military long enough to have gotten used to being told to deploy somewhere, only to later be told to change course, or return to her original mission as if the detour were simply an illusion. Thanks to discipline, she never asked her superiors for answers as to the changes. She did not, however, stop herself from contemplating the rationale behind them when she was alone.

The door to her office slid open, allowing Dalin Nefet to enter. The action wasn’t out of sorts, it didn’t fall outside of the etiquette demanded of a subordinate on a posting such as a station. What did strike the Legate as odd was the fact that the Dalin looked slightly in a panic. Unless the station was suddenly falling apart, the cause for her sudden visit must have been external in nature.

“What is it, Dalin?” Aren asked, turning her chair to face the woman more directly.

“There’s an incoming transmission from the Chairman, but it is marked as a station wide broadcast…” Nefet explained the situation that had brought her into the Legate’s office in such a panicky state.

“Is there now?” Aren couldn’t help but smirk at the news. Though she hadn’t expected it to be so soon, the Legate was almost certain that when the success or failure of the council’s scheme came to light, it would be handed down to them in such a broad sweeping fashion. Chairman Rekal struck Aren as the type to be extremely heavy handed when it came to spreading her vision of how she wished for things to go. A station wide broadcast was not in any real way a surprise.

The Legate swivelled a bit more and pushed herself out of her chair, circling around the desk to follow Nefet out into the ‘pit’ to view the broadcast with the rest of the Operations staff. A curt nod to the man at the communications console was all it took for him to bring the message up on all of the screens throughout the station.

“This is Chairman Rekal, broadcasting a message to the crew of Empok Nor. Negotiations with the Federation have proven to be successful. Our intentions for peaceful contact and cultural exchange have been met favorably by the Federation representatives we have spoken to. In the coming weeks, vessels of Federation origin will be sent to Empok Nor. This will be a monumental occasion, and the Council hopes that it will be a fruitful exchange that will bring about a great influx of goods and opportunities for the Cardassian people. This is the reason you have all been assigned to Empok Nor, because we believe you are capable of handling this unprecedented responsibility with the dedication it will require from you all. I look forward to your success. Cardassia out.”

The majority of the Operations center began exchanging glances, which soon erupted into a din of banter among them. Most of the chatter consisted of disbelief and surprise, though there were a few murmurs of discontent laced in the conversations. The only person in the room not engaging in any manner of shocked expression was Legate Aren. Her quiet smile grew more noticeable as the din of chatter continued on, until Dalin Nefet actually came to her senses and realized the Legate was far too composed given the weight of the transmission’s contents.

“Pardon me for asking this, Legate… but did you know this was going to happen?” Nefet inquired in a voice just loud enough to cut through and silence the din of conversation around her.

“Of course I did,” Aren admitted freely, “I would have thought such a thing would have been obvious. I’m almost disappointed you even had to ask…”

Nefet shifted uncomfortably at the response, slightly embarrassed by the jab made at her observational skills. Whether the Legate noticed her discomfort or not would be a question left unanswered as she suddenly shifted the conversation and attention away from that toward what was expected of them now.

“As you’ve just heard, the Council has made inroads to the Federation. They will be coming here in short order to establish a cultural exchange between our two peoples. I expect that with their presence will come a great deal of trouble to contend with. My own personal experiences with Federation personnel is severely limited. I’ve only engaged with them a handful of times… Some of you likely have never dealt with anyone not of Cardassian origin in your lives. Your inexperience may yet prove useful, since you have no preconceived expectations for how to interact with them. But interact you shall… all of you are expected to expose yourself to our guests. Whether you become the best of friends is of little consequence, as long as no one here presents an overly antagonistic facade toward them,” Aren explained, her gaze landing on each of the people standing around her to drive the point across that she meant it for not only them, but everyone they supervised as well.

“Will they be running the station alongside us?” the Dalin in charge of station maintenance spoke up.

“No,” the Legate said before pausing to give the matter a bit more consideration before amending, “Not at first at least. Should they prove useful, or express a desire to become useful in those endeavors, we will address it then. For now, however, they will not be permitted into any areas that a Cardassian civilian would be restricted from entering.”

The man’s face appeared pensive over the answer to his query but he nonetheless nodded and accepted it as it stood.

“Do we know how many ships we should expect?” The Glinn in charge of overseeing their docking facilities and storage areas spoke up.

“Not at the moment. The information I had already been given by the Council before my arrival was focused mainly on the expectations of the project, not the particulars. I’m sure that the first wave of Federation vessels will be able to tell us more about their contingent when they arrive. I recommend you set your expectations for what they might bring high. We can always draw down later, but I do not want to be caught being lax and have to rush to catch up,” Aren remarked.

Another nod, but this time with a much less displeased look from the person she’d addressed.

Nefet folded her arms across her chest with a frown, “How are we going to segregate the Federation contingent? Quarters were assigned in the typical fashion for a military post, which means we would have to fit their people among our own.”

“I see nothing wrong with that,” the Legate said without giving the question any thought, “Having Federation neighbors in an adjacent room won’t hamper operations of this station in any way. If anything, leaving things as they are right now will only serve to show the Federation our sincerity in engaging in this cultural exchange. Having sections blocked off and only accessible for Federation habitation will only present us as being half-hearted about this whole affair.”

Unlike the previous responses, this latest decree was met with vocal displeasure from most of the people gathered in Ops. The fact that they were so adamant about their objections to such a plan showed the Legate just how difficult a task they had ahead of them. With a mental sigh, Aren waited for everyone to have their little turn at voicing why the idea was a bad one before she addressed the matter again.

“Does everyone feel better now that they’ve had their say?” the Legate cast her gaze over the assembled crew, watching their faces and gestures for a moment before continuing, “Good. Now that I’ve indulged your ridiculous outburst, I shall repeat what I said. No changes to how quarters have been distributed will be made. No requests for transfers to other quarters will be entertained. We will not change the way we have gone about business up until now to please anyone… on either side. We will treat this influx of personnel as we would treat any influx that came from Cardassia. There will be no preferential treatment of any kind for any reason when it comes to issues such as accommodations or the like.”

“Even for you?” the Glinn in charge of security spoke up suddenly.

Legate Aren smiled at the man, “Especially for me. I rather like my quarters as it stands, and having a Federation neighbor will not lower the quality of my accommodations in the least. In fact, I expect that the person being placed in charge of the Federation contingent will be placed in one of the empty suites near my own.”

The collected officers didn’t expect to hear such a thing from the Legate. If anything, their expectations had been that she would try to use her position to exempt herself from such considerations but expect that the rest of them suffer the brunt of such a decision. Their objections to her decree lost a great deal of steam when she announced that she not only wasn’t going to be exempt, but expected that the Federation representative would be housed nearby.

“If we are going to be involved in such a project, everyone must be willing to do so with the utmost faith and dedication to it. If the end goal is to ensure that we gain the economic and political favors that will help our people survive in this new age, then we must do so without reservation or hesitation. It is the results that will be scrutinized by the Council… as well as historians… not the means by which we secured those results,” Aren explained to the group with a rather proud look on her face.

The collective members of the staff around her couldn’t help but agree with her stance, even if they weren’t entirely sold on the idea being put forward. Survival had always been paramount in the minds of Cardassians, and sacrificing something in the short term to gain something monumental in the long run was nothing short of expected in Cardassian culture. Emotional appeals were hardly an effective method when attempting to change the minds of a group with such morality at their core, but a logical appeal to their sense of duty to the continuation of their race had the required impact to quell dissent… at least for the moment.

“Now, if there are no other complaints about our mission,” the Legate’s face turned serious as she swept her gaze around once more to get the point across that the time for complaints was well and truly over, “Make ready to receive our guests. Any arrangements that need to be made prior to their arrival must come through me. And don’t forget… no changes in living quarters. Make sure everyone is brought up to speed before week’s end. I would hate to have to make Glinn Talmet throw a few dozen people into the brig because they didn’t get the message.”

The assembled staff nodded at the orders and broke away from the central console to carry out the required preparations. Aren smirked at the efficiency of the crew and their ability to take action even when they weren’t overly enthusiastic about it. As the thought crossed her mind, Aren wondered if there had ever actually been a time she herself had been all that enthusiastic to carry out orders she wasn’t thrilled about. As she mused about it, Legate Aren made her way back to her office to make preparations of her own.

[Legate Aren’s Office, Ops, Empok Nor]
[Three weeks later]

The preparations for the arrival of the Federation delegates went about as smoothly as such affairs could, which was to say that they hadn’t progressed smoothly in the least. When Aren wasn’t busy stamping out dissent from one section of the station over what they were expected to do, she was busy instructing another section on how to conduct themselves in their preparations for their guests. Resistance had been expected, and even accounted for in her briefing with the Chairman. The fact that she had been granted the rank of Legate with no other member of her crew holding a rank higher than Dalin was a calculated plan to keep her authority unquestioned, as only a Gul could hope to challenge her with any real possibility of success.

The fact that dissent had no hope of success didn’t stop the crew from engaging in their little ‘rebellion’ against their standing orders. Things had never actually gotten much farther than verbal protestations in the mess areas, and a few fist fights in the bar over one crewman complaining and another taking issue with the complaints. It was all very much within the limits of the Legate’s ability to tolerate and work around, it simply wasn’t an enjoyable state of affairs. However, with the clock finally reaching the zero hour for the delegation’s arrival, things had finally been reined in enough that the dissatisfaction of her crew wouldn’t be immediately apparent to their guests.

Dalin Nefet walked into Aren’s office with a quickened pace, her presence enough to pull the Legate out of her contemplation. As her eyes fell upon the Dalin, she couldn’t help but notice that she looked rather ill-at-ease, which could only really mean one of two things; either the Federation had arrived, or they had some unwelcomed guests.

“What is it, Nefet?” the Legate decided to get the cause of the young officer’s distress straight from the source rather than guess.

“Several ships have just dropped out of warp and are holding at the outskirts of our docking control zone. They’ve requested permission to dock,” the Dalin responded to the query with a barely controlled tone of voice.

“Is it our intended guests?”

“Yes, Legate, it’s the Federation contingent. Seven ships in total,” came the hasty reply.

“Seven?” Legate Aren parroted the number as if she wasn’t certain she’d heard correctly.

Nefet nodded, “Yes, Legate. All but one vessel appears to be cargo vessels. Their escort is an Argonaut-class vessel. It is that vessel that is hailing us.”

“I see…” Legate Aren dug in her memories to recall what kind of vessel an Argonaut-class ship was. She knew without question which vessels the Federation had that posed an imminent threat to the station should one approach, but the name Argonaut wasn’t amongst them. That alone was enough to tell her that the Federation had chosen a ship that wouldn’t put them instantly on alert, but could easily ward off pirate vessels who might otherwise take the convoy to be easy prey.

“Patch the ship into my office, I will speak to their representative in here,” Aren ordered after a few moments of thought.

“As you wish,” her First Officer nodded curtly and returned to the ‘Pit’ to carry out her bidding.

The Legate turned her attention toward her personal console, waiting for the screen to switch over to the communication that was being sent her way. Once the screen finally shifted, the face of a Human male flashed onto the screen.

“This is Captain Jonathan Bastin of the USS Argonaut. To whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?” the man said in a firm voice.

“Captain Bastin, I am Legate Aren, Commander here on Empok Nor. We’ve been expecting your arrival,” the woman introduced herself with a small smile.

“I apologize for not sending word to you sooner regarding our arrival, but our orders were explicit in outlining that until we arrived in the system that we weren’t to make any attempts at communication with you, since your station is currently deemed a classified installation,” the Captain explained.

“Yes, unfortunately there are many in the Union who have not been made aware of this station’s existence, let alone the mission we have been asked to carry out here on the fringes of Cardassian space. As I’m sure you can no doubt appreciate, this project is something of a controversial one in the eyes of a great many of our citizens. So much so that it was deemed best to show them the results without them being made aware beforehand,” the Legate remarked.

“Indeed. I’ve dealt with the Cardassian people on a handful of occasions, so I can appreciate your proclivity for secrecy in this particular matter. That being said, I would like to get the transports docked and the first wave of goods offloaded, if that would be acceptable to you. Several of the cargo ships are only here on loan and won’t be sticking around after they’ve completed their drop off,” Capt. Bastin shifted the focus on the conversation rather abruptly.

Legate Aren’s eyebrow rose ever-so-slightly at the effortless way the Captain had managed to change the subject without it seeming forced. It was almost a sure bet that the man the Federation had sent to represent them had some measure of diplomatic prowess, though how much remained to be seen. Aren wasn’t immediately sure whether she liked that they had sent her a diplomat as opposed to a more militant minded individual. At least with someone who was hot headed and brash, Aren had ways and means to manipulate them toward doing as she wished them to do. Someone who was trained to manipulate others, on the other hand, might well present a problem going forward, as Aren herself wasn’t overly diplomatic to begin with.

“Of course, Captain,” the Legate responded with only a second or two of lag time behind the question posed to her, “I will have my Operations Officer coordinate their docking. We have outfitted several of our docking pylons and ports to accommodate your vessels, though you will have to get specifics from the Dalin himself about which are suitable for your use. Once you’ve docked, I would love to meet with you in person, if you are amiable to such so soon after your arrival.”

“I look forward to it. Bastin out.”

The screen cut to black before returning to the idiographic display that she’d been reading a few moments earlier. Aren’s lips curled into a genuine smile as she reflected on the exchange. For a Human, the Captain didn’t seem entirely incompetent, which was both good and bad given the nature of her mission. She was certain he would be willing to give the project a fair and honest effort… which meant that their true objective might take longer to achieve than anticipated.

“Ah well…” the Legate let out a short sigh, “If it had been easy from the onset, this wouldn’t have been much of an assignment I suppose.”

Aren pushed herself out of her chair and circled around her desk, intent on meeting the Captain at the docking pylon.

[Docking Pylon 3, Empok Nor]
[Twenty minutes later]

Legate Aren stood before the docking pylon hatch, her First Officer to her left and her Security Chief to her right. Glinn Talmet had a disruptor on his hip, which wasn’t exactly unusual in and of itself. What did seem rather odd was that his hand was resting atop the weapon as if he had already determined that he was about to enter a fire fight.

“They aren’t invaders, Talmet,” the Legate said with a sideways glare at the Security Officer.

The man shifted on his feet uncomfortably, “The last time I dealt with anyone from the Federation, we were at war with them…”

“Just try to remember that we are neither at war, nor expecting to enter into one with them here in the docking ring. Shall I relieve you of your sidearm before they arrive, or can you keep it in the holster, at least until they do something that might actually warrant using the thing?” Aren asked in a blunt fashion.

“I can manage, Legate,” Talmet said, dropping his hand from the weapon in a show of compliance.

“Very well…” the Legate returned her attention to the airlock door just as it began to roll to the side to allow the people inside to enter the station.

At the head of the Federation contingent was the Captain that Aren had spoken to not long ago. Flanking him was a woman in a similar red uniform, followed by a man in a gold uniform. Several others were trailing behind them at a bit of a distance, which meant they weren’t part of the official party.

“Legate Aren, I wasn’t expecting you to be the one to greet us in the docking ring,” Captain Bastin said with a genuine smile that caught Aren off guard for the briefest of moments. She’d never actually met anyone outside of her people that seemed truly pleased to see one of her kind. Thankfully she wasn’t slow to recover, a smile gracing her own features wasn’t far behind as she reached out her hand toward the man.

“I thought it best to lead this exchange by example, rather than from the confines of my office,” Aren explained.

Captain Bastin took the offered hand and give it a firm shake, his smile only seeming to become a bit brighter for the exchange.

“Legate, I would like to introduce the Argonaut’s First Officer, Commander Rena Yuri. She will be taking de facto command of my ship while I’m working with you on the station. And this is Lieutenant Commander Brak, our Chief Engineer and Second Officer on the Argonaut,” Bastin said after releasing the Legate’s hand.

A Human woman and a Tellarite male nodded in turn as the Captain gave his introductions, but neither of them said anything. It seemed that either the two of them were much more weary of the situation, or they had been instructed not to interject during their first encounter with the Legate. Aren wasn’t especially bothered by it, and merely returned their nods with one of her own before replying in kind.

“This is Dalin Nefet, the station’s First Officer, and my Security Chief, Glinn Talmet. Both of them are at your disposal, Captain, should you need assistance,” the Legate declared. Each Cardassian responded to their names being said with a much less pronounced nod, though Talmet tensed up a bit at hearing that his services might be called upon by the man before them. Aren’s eyes narrowed slightly when she noticed his stance stiffening, taking note of the Captain’s demeanor quickly to see if he had noticed it. When the Captain’s smile didn’t seem to so much as dim, the Legate decided that he had either noticed and took no offense to it or it had escaped him entirely.

“If you would follow me, Captain, I will take you on a short tour of the station,” Legate Aren offered, motioning down the corridor behind her.

“I would appreciate that very much, Legate, thank you,” Captain Bastin said, taking up a position to Aren’s left as they walked down the corridor together.

The Legate didn’t bother to look behind her to see if the others were following or how they might be arranged. She had little doubt that the atmosphere among the majority of them was nothing but tense, even if she and Captain Bastin seemed to be getting along rather well.

The tour of the station didn’t last too terribly long, and most of their stops were focused on the facilities in the Promenade. The Legate had glossed over most of the operational sections of the station, explaining that the delegation wasn’t to enter those areas without prior approval, since the nature of their involvement in the daily running of the station had yet to be worked out. Captain Bastin didn’t seem to have much of an issue with how the tour had been conducted, taking time to comment positively about the various services available, and the state of the spaces that had been reserved for the Federation contingent’s use while they were aboard. The tour ended with the contingent arriving at the conference room that had been set up beforehand to handle to formal welcome.

Once everyone was seated, Legate Aren began with her opening remarks, “Thank you for agreeing to be a part of this cultural exchange between our two governments. I understand and appreciate that it is no small thing to have our two cultures come together like this after being at odds with one another many times in the past. There aren’t many people here who weren’t affected in some way or another by the tragedies of the Dominion War. I myself was part of that awful conflict, and recall rather vividly the pain that was inflicted on both sides. Our two peoples have never been more than lukewarm enemies to one another, a fact that no one here can deny even if we might wish it were otherwise.”

“However,” the Legate continued after letting the statement hang for a moment, “Today is the day that we here on Empok Nor change this fact. We have been charged with the awesome responsibility of joining hands with a former foe… Indeed, our mission is not simply to join hands but to embrace one another in a newly forged friendship that will serve to bring the Cardassian people into the galactic fold on equal footing with our neighbors. Our people have everything to gain by the success of this endeavor, and we hope that the Federation will come to appreciate what we can bring to the table as friends, and perhaps someday as brothers and sisters in arms against the incessant march of time.”

Aren took up a glass that had been placed near her at the start of the meeting, “To the future.”

““To the future,”” those gathered in the room responded to the toast in kind.

Once they had all taken a drink, Captain Bastin rose from his seat to address the room, “Legate, I want to first thank you for your hospitality so far. It has been a true joy to have you show us around the station, and your speech just now was a testament to just how much this project means to both of our peoples. I firmly believe that this project can succeed in bringing our two cultures together as long as we are both willing on each side to devote the effort and energy required to heal the wounds that have been inflicted by the follies of the past. And to do so, I believe it is important to recognize that no side has been blameless in the way things have developed between our peoples. The Federation has done much to foster the deep divide between us, and we should be willing to demand of ourselves the effort that it will take to bridge that gulf between us, just as you no doubt demand of your own people.”

“As long as I am here, I promise to do all that I can to ensure the success of this endeavor, so that future generations of Federation citizens and Cardassian citizens can look back proudly on this project as the turning point for our two peoples giving up the legacy of distrust and hatred and embracing one another as the great galactic family we can be if we truly take the time to come to understand one another,” Bastin said, his focus shifting to each person assembled, whether they were Cardassian or Federation in origin.

“A wonderful goal, Captain,” Legate Aren said with a pleased smirk, “One I am certain we can accomplish.”

The assembled officers raised their glasses again, and the formal welcome carried on with a somewhat tense atmosphere for a short time before the various participants began to disperse to return to their official duties regardless of affiliation. The only two left in the room were the Legate and Captain Bastin. The two of them sat in silence for a short while before one of them broke it with a suggestion.

“How about we have dinner tonight, Captain?” Aren said without any sort of preamble.

Bastin thought about the proposal for a moment, “That might be nice to have a more informal event with our two crews.”

“No, I don’t mean between our crews…” Aren chuckled at the comment, “I meant between us, personally.”

“Oh? And what brought this about?” the Captain asked almost reflexively.

Aren could tell that he was on guard just by the shift in his tone from a somewhat casual one to a much more reserved one. It was refreshing to talk to someone who appreciated and understood that there was always a meaning behind everything she did. The Legate couldn’t remember the last person she’d spoken to that challenged her on equal footing in the area of verbal sparring.

“Neither one of us is blind to the motivations behind this project, Captain. Even without knowing a great deal about your background, I can tell this isn’t the first time you dealt with a sensitive diplomatic situation such as the one we find ourselves in. You pick your words carefully, a fact I doubt my First Officer is able to pick up on with how well you maneuver conversations to your advantage without making it obvious. If you aren’t a diplomat, Captain, you should be. You’d even make a good politician on Cardassia,” the Legate smirked.

“High praise indeed,” Bastin said with a small smirk of his own, “And you are correct, Legate. I am first and foremost a diplomat, even if I command a starship at the moment. That’s one of the reasons I was asked to participate in this project. But beyond that, I’m here because I actually believe this is something worth pursuing, even if I know all too well this project isn’t as straightforward as your Council has led the Federation to believe. Just from hearing what was worked out between our two peoples second hand, I can tell your Chairman is a skilled politician in her own right, and that she has ulterior motives that stretch well beyond the confines of what was put on paper.”

“This is why I want to have dinner with you, Captain. I believe that it would be no end of fun sparring with you on an intellectual level about all the ‘ulterior motives’, as you put it, my people have about this project. As I said before, I fully intend to lead this endeavor from the front,” Aren said, leaning forward as she spoke.

“My gut tells me I should turn you down,” the Captain remarked bluntly, “But there’s a rather large part of me that just isn’t willing to back down from the challenge that a sparring match with you presents.”

“Then I take it you accept my invitation, Captain?”

Bastin nodded, “I do indeed accept, Legate.”

“Excellent. I will see you tonight in my quarters,” Aren said, pushing herself out of the chair she was perched in, “1900, station time. I would ask you not to be late… but as your quarters are right across from mine, that hardly seems possible.”

“True enough,” the Captain smirked as he watched the Legate walk out of the conference room with a bit of extra swagger to her step.

[Legate Aren’s Quarters, Empok Nor]
[1850 hrs. Station Time]

Legate Aren drew herself upright after laying the final dish down that would complete the dinner that she had promised the Federation Captain she’d met earlier in the day. The replicator made any meal something of a feast, even if the one who prepared it had no talent for cooking by hand. Her satisfaction over the arrangement and the contents of the meal were not diminished in the least by her lack of having any real part in its creation aside from demanding that the replicator synthesize it.

Aren had opted to wear something slightly more formal than her usual evening wear. The crème colored dress she’d chosen clung to her form in just the right places to highlight the curves she was fond of, and hide the ones she wasn’t so fond of. Her appearance was no less meticulously planned than the meal in front of her. If anything, the meal was less stringently pulled together than her dedication to her appearance had been.

Her eyes flitted to the chronometer she kept near her door, the display shifting slightly as the seconds slipped by. Before she even had a chance to wonder when the Captain might cross the small expanse between his quarters and her own, the door chime began to warble. Aren’s lips curled into a smirk at how punctual the man was, a testament to his years of hard won experience dealing with foreign diplomats no doubt. The Legate crossed the small expanse between her dining area and the door, pressing the lock release and looking up just in time to see the doors reveal her visitor.

Captain Bastin was clad in a sharp looking charcoal colored suit that did as much to highlight his features as Aren’s dress did to accentuate her own. The woman couldn’t stifle the pleased smirk that came unbidden to her lips at the sight. While she had expected him to dress fairly formally despite the personal invitation, it hadn’t occurred to her that it would look so natural when she actually saw it.

“Come in, Captain,” Aren said finally after a moment’s pause, “I thought you might arrive somewhat before the appointed time.”

“I’m only ever late when it is appropriate to be so, Legate,” the man remarked as he stepped fully inside the room and took it in. The space wasn’t sparsely furnished like his own quarters, but the décor didn’t seems to adequately reflect the occupant, at least in his estimation of the woman. The paintings adorning the wall looked unremarkably generic, which made it glaringly obvious that they were replicated versions of some innocuous scenery that might not have even been Cardassian in origin. Captain Bastin’s eyes narrowed slightly at just how fake the room felt.

“Yes,” Aren said as she walked toward the dining table that she’d prepared, “It is usually the luxury of a host to be tardy to a function, and usually to maintain the illusion that they are so much more in demand than you are.”

“A great many more times than not, it is exactly as you say… an illusion,” Bastin nodded in agreement as he approached the chair opposite the Legate’s.

The Captain waited for the woman to sit first before following suit. Taking quick stock of the offerings before him, Bastin realized just how much effort the woman had put into providing a rather varied menu, though it was rather obvious that most of the actual labor had been done by the replicator. Both sides of the table had food hailing from both the Federation and Cardassia in equal measure. The Captain even recognized several of the more common Cardassian dishes, much to his amusement. The Federation dishes were from his Terran home, a smattering of English local fare that he hadn’t imagined himself seeing at the table.

“I can tell by the look that just crossed your face that you weren’t expecting to see some of this,” the Legate said with a smug look on her face.

“I did not,”Bastin confessed, reaching for the nearby napkin and draping it across his knee in a practiced fashion, “But that doesn’t mean that I’m ungrateful for it.”

The smirk on Aren’s lips didn’t lessen as she did the same, “I took the liberty of requesting your profile… or rather as much of it as your First Officer was willing to provide. A great deal of it was redacted, which surprised me if I’m being honest. I get the feeling that your career has been far more interesting than your demeanor would lead one to believe.”

The Captain let out a soft chuckle, “That’s part of the reason I’m so good at what I do, Legate. Few people expect me to be as… battle hardened… as I am for how I present myself. I guess in a way, it is the key to my success as a diplomat. I went to school to fill my head with grand ideals about how things play out on paper, and went out into the world to find out that the things on paper aren’t as cut and dry as the books would like you to believe. If anything, I’m grateful that I learned the truth about diplomacy very early in my career. It made it possible for me to see my dreams come to fruition rather than watching them crumble under the weight of reality.”

Legate Aren nodded as she listened to the man speak, her smirk shifting into a much more natural smile, “Very few can make such a claim sound believable. I find it oddly comforting to know that you aren’t simply an idealist with no grasp of how harsh the world outside really is.”

“Oddly comforting?” Bastin asked as he reached for his drink, “How so?”

Legate Aren took a sip of her own beverage while she considered her reply, “I don’t know… I suppose it has something to do with my disdain for people who aren’t grounded in the same harsh reality as myself. Idealism has its place, even among my people, but I have never found it to be enviable or anything of the sort. I suppose having approached the subject of diplomacy from the opposite direction leaves me somewhat bitter about the fanciful ignorance that scholarly diplomats seem to enjoy.”

“By opposite direction, you mean to say that you lived the harsh reality first, and were only later exposed to the rose-colored mentality of diplomacy after you’d already made up your mind that such things were superfluous,” the Captain postulated as he leaned back in his chair.

“I can’t really argue your assessment,” Aren said with an annoyed pout, “Even if I would like to protest the way in which you framed it. It isn’t that I believe diplomacy to be superfluous, Captain. I merely find it to be rather tiresome in its inability to be direct, and strike at the heart of the matter with precision and efficiency. But even saying that, I do appreciate the nuance with which the art itself is carried out. Every word a measured utterance, every gesture and every expression a means to deceive or deflect one’s true thoughts and intentions. In that respect, I must admit, even a Cardassian such as myself could learn a thing or two from a skilled practitioner.”

“If you can find one, that is,” Bastin remarked in front of a fork full of food.

The Legate let out a brief laugh, “I believe I am sitting across from one right now. The fact that I can’t tell if you’re actually enjoying that speaks volumes already at your ability to hide your thoughts on the proceedings.”

The Captain shrugged, “I’ve eaten a great many things in my time that have turned my stomach on end. Even poorly replicated food can be said to be divine when compared to some of the local cuisines that I’ve had to force down with a smile on my face in the past. Take it as the compliment it is that I don’t have to smile a fake smile while eating what you’ve set out.”

“That makes the small effort I’ve expended on preparations worthwhile if you’re willing to be so honest about it,” Aren said as she begin to join her dining partner in earnest.

The meal progressed with limited banter, neither participant broaching any subject that couldn’t be considered small talk in any situation. Their meal ended with a small dessert course that complimented the food they had enjoyed together rather nicely. Once the two had relocated to the rather spacious sitting area that their conversation turned to matters of business.

“Allow me to be blunt, Captain. My people… or rather more to the point, my crew aboard this station, hold no hope that this project is anything other than doomed to failure. Take for instance my Security Officer. He was so dead set on there being a firefight in the docking pylon that I had to threaten to relieve him of his weapon to get him to show at least some restraint. And his behavior and demeanor is that of the majority here. There are precious few under my command that are walking into this experiment with the willingness to even attempt to open their minds to the possibility that we can be anything beyond enemies,” the Legate said with a bitter frown.

For his part, Captain Bastin just shrugged a bit at the confession, “There aren’t many people on my ship, or among the merchants that came with us here that hold any real hope that this can be a worthwhile endeavor. At best, most believe it to be a means of confirming suspicions that your people are simply out to gain something from the exchange that you wouldn’t otherwise have been able to acquire through simple raids or other underhanded means. The bad blood runs deep on both sides, no matter how much you and I might like to smile and pretend it wasn’t so.”

“Not one to pull your punches, are you Captain?”

“I have been known to do so a time or two, but in this case I feel like it would only hamper progress rather than aid it,” Bastin replied.

The Legate leaned onto the armrest of the sofa she occupied and let out a long sigh, “I’m not surprised that your people are of a similar mind to my own. Even when a good share of the crew were only children during the Dominion War, the scars it left on their hearts aren’t something we can easily expect them to forget about, to say nothing of asking them to forgive. I think we simply need to provide opportunities for our peoples to work together, to see that they are not so different from one another that they can’t co-exist, even if it isn’t exactly what the Chairman had in mind, in terms of our people coming together.”

Captain Bastin folded his arms against his chest in thought for a moment before commenting, “Several decades ago, I met a man who believed in the principle of ‘behavioral modification through stress.’ When I was first introduced to the concept, I wasn’t convinced it was anything more than a crackpot idea borne from some insanity that resides in the dark corners of the minds of misanthropic men. It wasn’t until I saw it actually work with my own eyes that I came to appreciate that it had a place in the world, even if it has a tendency to be unpredictable in exactly how it goes about modifying someone’s behavior.”

“Something to consider,” Aren perked up a bit as she listened to the explanation, “That being said, I can’t think of any way to introduce a kind of stress that would force our peoples to band together that wasn’t extremely trite or painfully obvious… But I won’t forget that little piece of advice. Who was this man you mentioned?”

Bastin sank back and stared up at the ceiling for a moment as his face contorted oddly in thought, “I honestly don’t know how to explain it to someone who probably doesn’t even have the faintest notion of how such a thing could be possible, let alone be able to reconcile it without a whole lot of background first. Let’s just say… parting with that particular individual was a turning point in my life… and probably the largest blank space in that biography you managed to dig up on my career.”

The Legate straightened up and leaned forward, “Now you have me terribly curious, Captain. I don’t believe I’ve seen that particular look on someone’s face in a very long time, and the story that followed such a look was truly riveting, if even half of it were to be true.”

“Sounds like you’ve run across some interesting people in your career, Legate,” Captain Bastin smirked.

“I would like to think I’m fairly worldly,” Aren grinned, “And I would very much like to hear the story behind that particular look.”

“Unfortunately, Legate, it isn’t a story I can really get into at the moment. There are too many things that I can’t really discuss that make the story more believable and easier to understand. Without those details… you’d think I was lying to your face with a completely serious expression.

The Legate crossed the space between her and her guest, coming to sit right next to the man, “That simply won’t do, Captain. You have piqued my curiosity and I simply must hear something of this story, especially if it sounds like a lie. As someone from a culture that appreciates a well woven falsehood, teasing me with such a morsel and then leaving me emptyhanded would be in incredibly poor taste.”

The Captain shifted uncomfortably at how earnest his host had suddenly become in prying into the details of the story, something he hadn’t actually expected given their interactions up to that point. Bastin silently wondered if a small glimmer of her actual personality had finally leaked through the veneer of haughty detachment that she’d displayed throughout most of their evening together.

After a brief period of agonizing over how to explain things, “Have you ever looked into the mirror and wondered what the person looking back at you might be like?”

Aren cocked her head to the side in confusion, “I can’t say that I have… What does that have to do with your story?”

“Just humor me…” Bastin urged her, “What if the person looking back at you… that reflected ‘you’, was your polar opposite? What kind of a person do you imagine they might be?”

“That’s an interesting thought experiment, Captain, truly… but I don’t see how it relates…”

“It relates precisely because I’ve met the man reflected in the mirror… Stood face to face with the polar opposite of myself… He is the man that taught me the utility of stressful situations, how to make them work in your favor, how to manipulate people with a kind of ruthless efficiency that makes anything I’ve seen in all my years in Starfleet look like a children’s theatre production.”

Aren couldn’t help but feel herself outright rejecting the notion, her instincts denouncing it as a falsehood and a ridiculous impossibility. The frown on her lips was there before she could even register that she’d allowed a reaction to show at all.

“Preposterous…” she muttered before realizing that she’d reacted exactly as he’d said she would after hearing the story without a shred of context behind it. It was a beautifully crafted lie, the fact that it seemed so wonderfully orchestrated made it all the more revolting.

“I told you it would seem like a bald-faced lie without any context,” Bastin smirked before pushing himself off the couch he was sitting on, “And now that you’ve heard it, I think it’s a good time for me to excuse myself. I had a lovely evening with you, Legate. I do hope we can do it again in the future… though perhaps the next one won’t end with you staring at me as if I’ve just shattered your world-view.”

“I don’t believe you’ve shattered anything, Captain…” the woman said as she rose off the couch to follow him to the door, “But you have certainly given me something to ponder over. Very few people have made me question whether I truly know a lie when I hear it or not. I truly look forward to our next meeting, Captain. Perhaps by then we will know one another well enough for you to fill in some of the gaps in your story.”

“We’ll see…” the man said with a strange half-smile that inspired a very odd feeling in Aren. Before she had a real opportunity to process the feeling, the door slid closed, and the feeling faded away like it hadn’t ever been there. It took a moment for her to realize that she was staring at her door, which bothered her a bit more than it should have.

“I’m not certain if that actually went the way I’d planned it to or not…” the Legate said in something of a whisper as she turned away from her door to walk into her bedroom. Her thoughts were so jumbled that she hardly noticed the mess she’d left behind on the table.

Previously, on the USS Hydra…

“Yes…” the Legate nodded, “Well, for what it’s worth, I do wish you luck in the coming skirmish… though I really don’t believe you will be needing it.”

Bastin straightened a bit in his chair, “Thank you Legate. I’ll let you know how things go once it’s over. Bastin out.”

As the screen went dark, Legate Sela Aren drummed her fingers against the desk she sat behind, her mind already replaying the conversation she’d just had with the leader of the Federation contingent currently being allowed to operate in Detapa Council controlled Cardassian space. She hadn’t actually expected the Federation to muster a force to expel the raiders that were squatting in the nearby nebula, not to mention mobilizing a vessel that rivaled some of her people’s more specialized assault ships. The show of force from Starfleet would certainly not go unnoticed even among the Central Command’s circles.

The Legate was mulling over what her next move was when her Executive Officer walked through the door to her office. While she didn’t look panicked for a change, her mood still seemed dour. Aren drew in a deep breath as she turned to more fully face the woman as she approached her desk.

“Legate,” the Dalin said briskly, “I’m sorry to disturb you, but we’re tracking several Federation vessels within our vicinity.”

“Are you now?” the Legate said with a sarcastic lilt to her voice, “That would explain why I just finished conversing with Captain Bastin who just so happened to mention bringing a small convoy of ships nearby. Was one of them… perhaps… a Manticore-class?”

“Yes, Legate…” Nefet said, already getting the feeling that her information was less than breaking news to her superior.

“Then you are rather late in reporting, Dalin. I not only know they are out there, but also exactly where they intend to go and why. And armed with that knowledge, anything you might have had to say is likely not nearly as detailed,” Legate Aren continued her rather brutal teasing before growing weary of it, “I need you to summon Glinn Talmet for me. There are some things I need him to look into.”

“Right away, Legate,” her First Officer nodded curtly and returned to Station Ops.

The Legate turned back toward her work console and skimmed through several reports that she’d been neglecting while she waited patiently for her Security Chief. Most of her backlog revolved around requests that either couldn’t be supported or that were extremely outlandish and not worth actually reading. It was no exaggeration to say that when Glinn Talmet actually did walk into her office that she was happy to be interrupted.

“You wished to see me, Legate?” the man asked, standing just inside her office.

“I did, yes,” Aren nodded, indicating to the chair in front of her desk, “I wanted to talk to you about getting in contact with people whom you think might have information we can use.”

“I assume you’re referring to my contacts in the Central Command…” the Glinn said with narrowed eyes.

The Legate gave him a rather devilish grin, “I’m so glad you’re on top of things. That’s exactly what I want. It’s been postulated that the raiders nearby might be in some way connected to our friends at Central Command, though it might only be the most basic of ties. If that’s all there is to it, I can still use that information to our advantage. If it’s something even deeper… well… all the better.”

“I’ll call in a few favors,” Talmet nodded as he began running through a mental list of who he might be able to reach out to, “Anything else?”

“No… I don’t believe so. Thank you,” the Legate said in a dismissive manner.

Her Security Chief was more than perceptive enough to understand that he had overstayed his welcome and briskly pushed himself out of the chair, disappearing out into the Ops area shortly after. Once the Legate was again alone, the thought of having to wade through yet more trivial requests was enough pressure that she decided she needed to step away for a while.

Rising from her chair and rounding the desk, Legate Aren stepped out into the Operations Center and looked around. Had Empok Nor been the standard Cardassian station, the entire compartment would be filled to the brim with people working at nearly every console. Currently, however, the only traffic they really received was the occasional Federation trade ship and the Cardassian haulers that would come soon afterward to bring whatever they could snag back to Cardassia Prime.

“I’m going to the Promenade,” Aren said as she crossed the space between her office and the lift, “If you need me for anything important, contact me. Otherwise, I am indisposed.”

“Understood, Legate,” Dalin Nefet said with a cursory nod as her superior walked onto the lift and activated the controls that would move the lift down into the interior of the station. After a few silent minutes, the lift eased to a stop and allowed the woman to step off into the spacious Promenade. When she’d first arrived, the only actual businesses to be seen were the bar and the replomat and neither of them were ever truly full. Flash forward to the scene playing out before the Legate and one would never have been able to imagine the station being so desolate.

A mixture of Cardassians and various Federation species were milling about the causeways that linked the shops going around the hub in the middle of Empok Nor. There were still small pockets where Cardassians would huddle together or the Federation would keep a bit of distance, but it wasn’t nearly as prominent as it had been when they’d first arrived several months before. Legate Aren wondered what might be possible in the coming months, should the trend continue in such a manner.

As a creature of habit, Legate Aren made the long circle from the lift hub all the way around to the bar, taking time to look into each shop and take notice of the composition of the patrons inside. Certain stores seemed to captivate Cardassian customers while others drew in large crowds from the Federation. Though not as common, there were a few establishments that had nearly equal patronage from both parties. Each time Aren happened upon one her lips curled into something of a proud smirk.

When she finally made it to the bar, the space was packed nearly to capacity, a sign that the duty day had ended for most of the crew. The Legate took a moment to glance up to see just what time it actually was, and couldn’t help but sigh upon discovering that she’d spent yet another full day without any real issues. Yet another far cry from when they began their great experiment.

“What can I get you, Legate?” the Cardassian behind the bar asked as he walked over to the part of the counter the woman had been standing near.

Aren shook her head a bit and focused on the man who’d just spoken to her, “I’m not sure. Have you gotten anything new in?” Even as she was asking the question, the Legate was already walking over to an empty bar stool.

“Yes, actually,” the man nodded, ducking behind the counter only to return with a bottle of liquid which had a very strange coloration to it and a glass. As Aren settled onto the stool, she eyed the foreign beverage with a great deal of suspicion. Even as the man poured the drink, she couldn’t help but wonder what she was getting herself into. The woman picked up her glass and gave the beverage a sniff, finding it to be at least tolerable to the nose. Finally the Legate took a hesitant sip, letting the fluid dance over her tongue for a while before she rendered her verdict.

“It isn’t horrible, though I don’t know what ‘it’ is…” she said finally.

“I was told it was a citrus drink. Beyond that, it doesn’t have a name according to my supplier. I’ve had a bit of it myself and I can’t say I hate it, even for something directly from Earth,” the bartender shrugged.

“I see…” Aren said before catching sight of one of the Starfleet officers currently attached to her station, “You there. Would you be so kind as to tell me what exactly this is?”

The young Ensign gave her a rather incredulous look before catching sight of the drink that had caused her to call out to him. A smile finally emerged onto his face as he obviously figured out what it was.

“It’s called orange juice. I’m surprised someone brought that here,” the man remarked.

“Is it something rare?” the Legate asked, giving her glass another look.

The Ensign shrugged, “Not overly rare, no… but the replicators don’t seem to be able to recreate the flavor very accurately, so if it doesn’t taste overly acidic, it’s the real deal.”

Aren sloshed the beverage around in the glass for a moment before taking a much larger swallow. While it had a bit of bite to it, she couldn’t say it was overly acidic. “Seems as if it is indeed the genuine article. Thank you for the information, Ensign.”

“Happy to help, ma’am,” the man bobbed his head before returning to his conversation.

The bartender lifted the bottle up as he looked at the woman, “Top you off?”

“Sure,” the Legate shrugged, “And perhaps you could bring me something to go with this. I believe a nice dinner is in order.”

“Coming right up,” the man said with a nod before wandering over to the replicator behind the bar. As he busied himself trying to pick a meal that would compliment her drink, Legate Aren turned toward the throng of people and watched them mingle, a quiet smirk of pride on her lips.

Glinn Ilmok narrowed her eyes as she skimmed over the ideograms displayed on her small PaDD. The request currently on display wasn’t unusual, at least not on the surface. Ever since the first contingent of Federation personnel had come aboard, there’d been a surge in requests of a similar nature. And in almost every case and circumstance, they could be quickly approved and forgotten. The one currently sitting on the display in her hand, however, dealt with articles that could cause a great deal of trouble if not carefully regulated.

“Dalin,” Ilmok approached her superior, “A moment?”

“What is it, Glinn?” the woman remarked, looking up from the console she had been working at.

“There is a request pending for the establishment of a liquor business on the Promenade. While not specifically prohibited, I wanted to see if you had objections to me speaking with this merchant to ascertain the particulars of his intended shop before approving it,” the Glinn explained.

“Alcohol from the Federation?” Dalin Nefet took a moment to mull the question over. She had served just at the tail end of the Dominion war, and even then had only been a raw recruit. Her exposure fo Federation goods of such a nature were scarce, but she could still vaguely recall them. Her instinct was to ban the store outright, given how rancorous her former crew mates had been upon imbibing some of the less regulated wares the Federation had on tap at the time. Her instincts, however, were also tempered by her own superior’s policy of only denying a merchant a space if the wares they wished to peddle were actually dangerous. Alcohol hadn’t made the list, which meant that outright rejection based solely on personal preference was out.

“As long as the merchant can provide evidence to support that he will only stock items below a certain threshold of alcoholic content… I can’t see a reason to deny his request,” the Dalin said, obviously not thrilled with having to say such.

“The Legate’s policy?” the Glinn asked.

“Yes…” Nefet nodded with a sigh, “And it would be wise not to test her unless we have an airtight case. Make inquiries, but should this merchant be of the reasonable sort… approve his occupancy.”

“Very well,” the Glinn nodded, sending the merchant in question a missive to meet her outside the empty shop he had wanted to occupy.

Haggis had arrived somewhat aggravated by the protocol the station had implemented, including taking his stock and locking it up until further notice. ‘These Cardassians think they have the right to take my wares.’ he thought to himself. The fact that he was here to put a store in was sheer coincidence, but the fact is it was happening. Haggis though an older man could still beat anyone who crossed him that included drinking. He laughed at the thought as a message popped up on his PADD. He rolled his eyes and headed to the shop he had requested.

He arrived to see no one there, which seemed typical anytime he needed to meet with someone. Cardassians didn’t respect anyone’s time but their own. He knew some and was good friends with them, but they would admit the same thing. He stood there tapping his foot waiting to find out not only about his stock, but the status of getting a shop.

Glinn Ilmok approached the rather agitated Human, her brows already creased in annoyance before she ever even spoke to him. His mannerisms spoke of his mood, though the Glinn didn’t have the faintest clue why he would be so on edge. Sucking in a calming breath, the Cardassian approached the man she’d told to meet her.

“You must be Mister McCreery…” the woman said, her tone somewhere between annoyed and disappointed.

Haggis looked at the Cardassian and became of normal manner again. “That I am, Haggis McCreery.”

The woman’s face twitched just a bit at his rapid change in attitude but didn’t let it stop her from making introductions, “Very well. I am Glinn Ilmok, the head of station operations here on Empok Nor. The reason we’ve put a hold on your request is because I and my direct superior have concerns over the nature of your intended business. While the wares, in general, are legal here in Cardassian space, there is an issue of regulation that we need to discuss prior to you being allowed to establish your storefront.”

The Glinn tapped some commands on the PaDD she held and the door to the vacant compartment slid open, allowing the Cardassian to walk through the threshold and into the interior. Once the two of them were inside, the woman continued, “Cardassian laws require alcoholic beverages of any nature to be below a certain content threshold. There are also products that, while not hazardous to other species, do pose a threat to the Cardassian biology. Such products would therefore be banned from being sold or carried by your establishment. Are you familiar with these restrictions, Mr. McCreery?”

Haggis nodded, he knew that the restrictions were in place and he followed them to the letter. “I am aware of them and have never tried to break the restrictions on any station or base I sell in. I own multiple establishments in the galaxy. I will adhere to your rules fully,” he said looking at the Cardassian.

The Glinn nodded at the man’s words while she ran her eyes over the list of items currently detained in the cargo hold. The inventory did indeed follow the guidelines that had been given to the Federation, though a few items toed the line just a bit. It was not, however, enough to give her the leeway she would need to deny his request outright. Ilmok closed her eyes for a moment, taking in a breath before finally giving the man a measured look.

“I can find nothing to be outside of the agreement we made with your government. Because of this, I will release your wares and allow you the use of this space. You will release the standard fee for occupancy, that being twenty slips of latinum. This will secure your residency for one year. You will also owe the station a monthly maintenance fee of two slips per month. This covers any and all required upkeep, power grid usage, and protection costs since your establishment carries with it a higher chance of theft given you wares. Is this acceptable?” the Cardassian explained at length.

Haggis nodded and grabbed the slips of latinum, as a business owner he hated making payments so he had the years payment already prepared. “Here is forty four slips, which should cover the full year in both occupancy and maintenance. Also I hope to see you again Glinn Ilmok. I am always happy to serve and will even cover for any parties or dinners the station may have.”

He smiled though he was agitated his mood quickly changed at the good news given. He was sure the Glinn was wary of his attitude, but it was how Haggis was and he couldn’t change that. “I am not sure what alcohol you like, but please take a bottle out of my stock on the house and complements of Old Haggis Brews.”

The Glinn took the payment offered to her, though she didn’t seem entirely pleased by the sudden remittance of the entire sum of due fees all at once. She did not, however, turn down the payment or make any commentary that confirmed her displeasure.

“Very well, Mr. McCreery,” the woman said after counting the slips to ensure that everything was in order, “Your payment has been confirmed. I will relay your interest in supplying your wares should the station host any festivities. Have you any questions for me before I go?”

“Nothing that I can think of Glinn,” He smiled as he walked around the shop envisioning what it would soon look like.

Glinn Ilmok took the platinum he’d given her and departed, leaving him to his flights of fancy as he wandered around the space he had just rented.

Previously, on the USS Hydra…

“It’s about our prisoners,” Bastin said flatly, “I wanted to know if the Cardassian government wished to detain them for prosecution for their crimes against your people or if you wanted the Federation to take custody of them.”

“Very well. I’ll stand by in this area until you contact me. Until then, Legate.”

When the image of Captain Bastin disappeared from her screen, Legate Sela Aren brought up the secure communications protocols and sent a priority message straight to Cardassia Prime. While Legate Aren had no illusions that Chairman Ila Rekal would be the one to answer the call initially, she was certain that her information would prove important enough to get through to the leader of the Detapa Council eventually.

As predicted, a young Cardassian male’s face appeared on the screen, his demeanor rather tense without the Legate having to say a thing. It was obvious he was one of the civilians on the home world that had no love for Cardassian military personnel no matter who they aligned with ideologically.

“What can I do for you, Legate?” the man asked with poorly contained disdain.

“I need to speak to Chairman Rekal regarding a matter that the Federation has brought to my attention. If you would kindly route my call to her, I would appreciate it,” the Legate said as pleasantly as possible.

The man on the screen scoffed at her request, “What is the message? She doesn’t wish to be disturbed.”

“Really now?” Aren said, steepling her fingers in front of her, “Then I suppose when the Federation decides they don’t wish to wait any longer than they already have for our answer, you can be the one to explain to her that our delay in response was because you didn’t understand the gravity of my contacting her from a secure location that doesn’t official exist to relay this information despite it being against standard protocol because it was just that important that a decision be made quickly… you won’t be the least bit upset at handling the diplomatic fallout it causes and the possible losses to the Union, am I correct?”

“Losses? What losses?” the man asked, his face contorting with doubt.

“Valuable intelligence, for one. A loss in confidence from the Federation over our domestic affairs… since they had to clean up a mess we weren’t capable of dealing with ourselves… Or were you unaware that there was a Federation task force currently in the Amneth Nebula?” the Legate said, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Her conversation partner in the moment looked suddenly panicked, as if the information she’d just relayed to him was far outside of his scope or ability to process. It took him several moments of what Aren could only guess was some internal weighing of options before he finally came to some manner of decision.

“I will ask the Chairman if she is available, please stand by,” the man said before the screen went dark.

Aren’s smirk evolved into a full on grin of accomplishment as she waited for the underling to carry out her request. She hadn’t thought it would be so difficult just to speak to her superior, since Rekal has been the one to send her out to Empok Nor in the first place. She wondered to herself idly if she would have as much difficulty relaying messages of an important nature throughout her tenure on the station. As her ruinations continued, the screen flashed back to life, the face of a very familiar Cardassian woman dominating her view.

“Legate Aren,” the Chairman said with a thin smile, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Our Federation compatriots,” Aren responded to the question glibly, “They have cleared out a pirate’s nest and are asking if we wish to receive and punish the prisoners they captured ourselves or if they should take them to Federation space. Given the potential intelligence we could gather as to who is organizing their little attacks, I thought it best to see what you thought of us taking custody and extracting viable intelligence rather than allowing the Federation to take them out of our reach.”

Rekal sank back in her chair as she mulled over the question. The Legate knew the potential gains from such a course of action were nothing to simply pass up because logistics would be difficult. And the fact that piracy had been affecting not just their relations with the Federation but the Cardassian economy just as it was starting to recover, letting a chance slip away of getting to the bottom of who might be orchestrating such an embarrassing series of events would be well worth the time and effort it would take to pry the information from a few pirates.

“Was this something you requested of them?” Rekal asked after a long pause.

“Actually,” Aren couldn’t help but chuckle, “Captain Bastin is the one who asked me. I believe his background as a diplomat has worked in our favor for once. While it is immensely difficult to pry information out of him, he is surprisingly thoughtful in ways I don’t expect. I had known his small task force was headed for the Amneth Nebula, but it hadn’t occurred to me that prisoners would be taken, given that it was a punitive force.”

The Chairman nodded, “Yes, the Federation is much more inclined to take prisoners even at the worst of times. In this particular case, it would appear that their proclivities could work to our advantage. I will arrange interrogators to be dispatched. I’m sure your facilities can hold them until they arrive. If you wish to, you can have your staff ask questions of their own, gather some initial information and we can compare your findings with what the team I send your way uncovers. Inform your Federation contact that we will accept custody, Legate. And thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

“Of course, Chairman. I’ll see to it at once,” the Legate nodded her head in farewell before cutting off the secure link. Almost as soon as the communication was completely cut off, the Federation seal appeared on her screen and blinked over to the face of the man she’d just been talking about.

“Captain Bastin,” Aren said with an accomplished smirk, “We will accept custody of your prisoners here on Empok Nor. Please bring them to us with all due haste. We will make preparations to accept them immediately.”

“That was fast…” Bastin said with a hint of surprise in his voice.

“It would appear that the issue you managed to handle has lit a fire in the Council, and they wish to do their part to see that the root cause of these attacks are dealt with. Our improving relations with the Federation are of much greater importance than you seem to realize,” the Legate said as she leaned back in her chair.

“It would appear so,” the man nodded, “We will depart for Empok Nor shortly. We should be there in a few hours.”

“We will be ready for you, Captain,” Aren said with a smile before cutting the link.

With only a few hours to spare, Legate Aren pushed herself out of the chair she was sitting in and walked out into the Ops compartment. She scanned the room and found her Operations Chief at her console.

“Glinn Ilmok, I need you to start converting some empty cargo areas into holding cells for prisoners we have incoming. Plan as if we will be getting at least two hundred. We can always reconvert the space if we don’t need it. Also, inform Glinn Talmet of the inbound prisoners and tell him I want a plan drafted as to how he will handle their interrogations. We will be getting assistance from Cardassia Prime, however it will take time and we have been encouraged to get preliminary information from them so that they can compare it to their own findings,” the Legate ordered.

“As you command,” Ilmok nodded, abandoning her post and boarding the lift to head down to supervise the conversions personally.

Aren turned to Dalin Nefet, “Prepare the station to receive at least three Federation vessels. I don’t see them bringing all of their task force with them, but it’s better to be prepared in case they do. We’ll also need to set up guard shifts once the prisoners arrive. I’ll let you decide how that rotation will work. Just have a report to me within the hour.”

“As you wish,” Nefet nodded, bringing up the personnel roster on her console to start making her list.

Legate Aren smiled to herself as she watched her crew leap into action. With the feeling of satisfaction fresh in her mind, the woman returned to her office to continue the tasks she’d abandoned to deal with the situation that had dropped figuratively into her lap.

“Legate Aren, your presence is requested in Ops,” the voice of Dalin Nefet pulled the woman out of her thoughts as she sat reading through the material she’d been sent from her Security Chief. Aren set her PaDD down and left her chair, crossing the small distance it took to enter the actual Ops portion of the station. The viewscreen at the opposite side of the compartment had an image of three Federation vessels of various designs displayed. One of them she recognized immediately, as it had been the first vessel to arrive from the Federation contingent several months ago. The others were much larger than the Argonaut, and seemed much more purpose built for the task they’d just come from tackling.

“Hail the lead vessel,” Legate Aren ordered.

Dalin Nefet nodded and called up the communications protocols, sending the desired request. A few moments later, the screen shifted to display the visage of Captain Bastin, their current Federation liaison.

“Legate,” the man said with a nod, “As promised, we are here to drop off the prisoners who survived our raid on their hideout. We have a total of seventy souls aboard who will need to be transferred.”

“It would appear that I overestimated your magnanimity a bit, Captain. I had expected at least two hundred prisoners,” the Legate said with a bemused looked on her face.

“Unfortunately, most of the vessels we encountered weren’t in the mood to go quietly. And while I’m sure it seems strange, I was in no mood to simply allow them to run off to perform more evil elsewhere if I couldn’t capture them alive. First hand experience with being too soft is a great teacher…” Bastin admitted with a slight shrug.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think you were a Cardassian. That was extremely pragmatic of you, Captain…,” Aren offered with genuine feelings of pride.

“Pragmatism isn’t exclusive to the Cardassian people, Legate. It simply isn’t lauded as highly among Federation peoples,” the Captain said with a tense smile.

“It should be,” Aren said with a bit of a grunt, “But enough of that. We are more than prepared to accept the transfers. Glinn Ilmok will relay docking instructions to you. We’ve reserved the upper pylons for your ships. If you would be so kind as to meet me in my office once the prisoner exchange is completed, Captain, I have some things I would like to discuss with you.”

“Understood. Hydra out,” the man said before the viewscreen returned to the view of the three Federation ships.

“Ilmok, if you would be so kind as to guide the vessels to their respective docking pylons,” the Legate said before turning to Dalin Nefet, “Have Talmet start the transfer process. Make sure he is aware that cooperation with the Federation during the transfers isn’t a choice for him to make.”

“Yes, Legate,” the Dalin nodded, relaying her superior’s message exactly as she’d said it.

Meanwhile, Glinn Talmet was finishing the finer details of the duty rotation for the pending interrogations when a message from Ops interrupted his work. The message contained a transcript of what he had been ordered to do, the verbage used being clear enough that the Cardassian couldn’t help but narrow his eyes at it. The Legate had him pegged, for sure, and understood full well that he was less than enthusiastic about having to cooperate with foreign security elements during the exchange.

The not so subtle reminder that she expected her orders and the intent of them to be followed faithfully and without deviation was not lost on him in the least. As one of the more vocal detractors of the entire ‘cooperative venture’ they’d been shoehorned into, Talent was often on the receiving end of the Legate’s displeasure. The only thing he couldn’t understand was why she hadn’t had him removed.

With his marching orders received, the Cardassian pushed himself out of his chair and grabbed his disruptor rifle, storming out of the office with a sense of purpose and urgency. He motioned for several of his security contingent that were stationed just outside the office to follow him, each of them already armed as was standard practice on the station. None of the Cardassian crew gave it a second thought as they watched the group of armed men march through the upper Promenade, though most of the Federation contingent couldn’t help but stare in confusion at the spectacle.

Two other contingents of Cardassian security officers were already on their way to the docking pylons from other parts of the station, Talmet’s group heading to the pylon that had been assigned to the Hydra. This choice wasn’t something he’d made personally, rather that Legate Aren had already told him that any dealings with the ship captained by their Federation liaison would automatically be his responsibility given his poor behavior upon first meeting Captain Bastin and his crew. The Glinn knew that he was being tested, that any deviations from orders or outbursts from him would only lead to even more humiliation further down the road.

Glinn Talmet stopped in front of the pylon access doors, waiting for the Federation contingent to appear and the large doors to cycle open, allowing the group of prisoners inside of the station. Much to Talmet’s surprise, the Federation officers standing around the prisoners were all armed with phaser rifles, to include the Saurian who was in charge of the ship’s security. His impression of the Federation, in that moment, seemed to be unjustifiably harsh and inaccurate.

“Glinn Talmet,” the Saurian officer said at the head of the group, “These are the prisoners we had aboard the Hydra. Some of them have been less than cooperative during their stay.”

As if to prove her point, one of the pirates made a go at trying to grab one of the phaser rifles from his captors despite being bound by cuffs. The security officer in question seemed to have seen such an outburst coming because the butt of his rifle found purchase in the pirate’s face, knocking him backward while clinging to his now bloodied nose. The Glinn’s eyes narrowed at the spectacle, though in response to the foolishness of the man himself, and not the treatment he’d received for his trouble.

“He’ll be the first one interrogated,” Talmet said, turning to one of his own officers, “Make sure he finds his way to the holding cells in my office.”

“Yes Glinn,” the man nodded.

Talmet returned his attention to the Saurian, “Lieutenant. If you will join us, we are taking this group to the mass holding area for processing.”

Lt. Nieru nodded and turned to her own crew, “You heard him, let’s move this rabble.”

At the Saurian’s words, the Starfleet crew began giving the pirates orders, which didn’t sound the least bit soft or delicate to Talmet’s ears. Even the few jabs in the back with a phaser muzzle seemed to be beyond what he would have expected from Starfleet. Once the gaggle of pirates were fully out into the corridor, the Cardassian contingent fell into the spaces that hadn’t been covered by Starfleet officers already, further driving home the point that the group had no avenues for escape.

During their procession to the mass holding area, several pirates who had not been able to take the hint attempted to break out of their bondage, only to be met with harsh retaliations from both Starfleet and Cardassian officers. One of the burlier men actually managed to break through the circle of officers at one point, only to be ruthlessly gunned down for his efforts. Talmet had expected some manner of outcry when his officer had turned his weapon on the man, only to find that the Starfleet security contingent had looks of apathy if they had any reaction at all.

When they finally reached the holding area and the prisoners were secured inside their small isolation areas, Glinn Talmet approached Lieutenant Nieru, “A word, if I may.”

The Saurian turned to the Cardassian with her head slightly cocked, “Something wrong?”

“No,” Talmet said with a shake of his head, “Actually I wanted to inquire as to why your crew seemed so… disciplined…”

“I don’t follow…” Nieru remarked in confusion.

The Glinn scratched the back of his head for a moment as he mulled over how to explain himself, “Your people didn’t hesitate to knock those vermin about when they got out of hand. I had… it would seem wrongly… assumed that the Federation was against shows of strength such as that.”

“Ah,” Nieru said in understanding, “I suppose the outward impression the Federation gives people is one of pacifism. I have found that to be one of our strengths, actually.”

“How so?” Talmet frowned.

“Just as you underestimated us, so too did the pirates. They assumed that lashing out would be enough to frighten us and allow them to escape our ship. My team is more than capable of answering such foolishness with measured force. I’ve turned my own phaser on several of the ‘vermin’, as you called them, though they weren’t killed in the exchange… They only wish they had been,” the Saurian’s face contorted into what Talmet could only interpret as malice.

The Cardassian looked visibly taken aback by the statement and it drove him into a rather deep contemplation for a protracted series of moments. Lt. Nieru let the man think, waving her officers out of the holding area when they’d finally herded everyone in their respective areas. The Saurian started to make her way out of the compartment herself when Talmet finally came to a decision.

“Lieutenant,” he called out, causing Nieru to turn back toward him, “Would you care to share a drink? I believe… I need to reevaluate a few things and I believe you could be of assistance.”

Lt. Nieru nodded at the man, “I believe I could use something to drink, Glinn. Lead the way.”

As the two security officers made their way to the Promenade, Captain Bastin had made it to the station’s Operations level. Having only been in the compartment once, the Starfleet Captain didn’t feel entirely comfortable being in a place that in most instances he would not be welcome. The fact that Legate Aren had specifically asked for him to be there made it just slightly more tolerable.

“Captain,” Dalin Nefet made her way around the central display to greet the man, “Welcome to Ops. The Legate is in her office and is awaiting you.”

“Thank you, Dalin,” Bastin nodded to the Cardassian, stepping off of the lift after it was made clear that he wasn’t unwelcome. He crossed through the ‘pit’ area and climbed the small set of stairs leading up to the Legate’s office. He’d expected to have to press the door chime to announce himself, but when he started to reach for it, the doors slid open.

“There’s no need for that, Captain. Please, have a seat,” Legate Aren said with a smile as she beckoned her guest inside. Bastin did as he had been asked and crossed through the threshold, taking a seat in front of the woman’s desk. After having been a commanding officer for several years, the Captain had grown accustomed to being on the other side of the desk, finding the current situation more than a little unfamiliar.

“Would you care for a beverage before we begin, Captain?” the Legate asked, though she made no move to get up.

“No, but thank you for the offer,” Bastin replied.

“I had thought you might say that,” Aren smirked, “Which means we can forgo any further pleasantries and cut to the heart of the matter. I would like to know if your crew managed to get anything useful out of your ‘guests’ while you were in transit. It might help to see how their stories change depending on who is doing the asking.”

“I would love to be able to tell you something, Legate,” Bastin said with a sigh, “But the methods that Starfleet authorizes weren’t overly effective in getting much more than names out of the prisoners. And even then I’m fairly certain some of them lied about that. My guess is we didn’t manage to get any of the leadership, at least not on the Hydra. I haven’t gone through all of the reports from the other two ships, but neither seemed to have any breakthrough information since I received both their findings among other routine message traffic, which tells me they likely got more of the same.”

“I had a feeling this might be the case,” Aren said with a nod, “And quite frankly I’m not not surprised in the least. While your methods were much more in keeping with Cardassian doctrines of pirate extermination, your interrogation methods most certainly deviate wildly from our own.”

“I am well aware of that, Legate,” Bastin said briskly.

The woman chuckled, “I have no doubt about that, Captain. You were, after all, old enough to have participated in the Dominion War, even if only just barely.”

“I was still in the Academy during the war,” Bastin remarked, shifting a bit in his seat, “but that didn’t mean I didn’t have ample opportunity to talk to survivors from some of the Cardassian led attacks during the war who managed to escape capture.”

“I see. That would explain why you are so familiar with our methods despite not having been exposed to them in any way,” Aren said with a half-smirk.

“You are fishing to see if we will protest your methods in any way,” Bastin remarked bluntly, “And the answer to your roundabout question is no. Despite your methods being distasteful, your government is within their rights to deal with people from your territory as they see fit. Ideology aside, Federation legality means nothing as none of the people we turned over to you were Federation citizens in any way and I’m not inclined to even attempt to shield people who have killed Federation citizens for their own personal gains from being punished. The morality of what may or may not occur to them once they are in your custody weighs little against the crimes they’ve knowingly committed. It won’t keep me awake at night knowing that they might not have the most comfortable stay in your holding cells.”

“I appreciate your candor, Captain,” the Legate said after letting the man’s statement hang for a while, “And I am happy to hear that we won’t have any issues, diplomatically, because our methods aren’t as… pleasant as your own.”

“Under different circumstances, I might have offered up objections. There may come a day when I do have to raise objections over a difference in ideologies that is not so easily reconciled. Today simply happens to be a day that your particular method of handling these… individuals… doesn’t raise any concerns,” Bastin said with a shrug.

“I will keep that in mind, Captain. And because you weren’t able to extract any useful information from them, I suppose this is where our meeting ends. While I do enjoy your company, I have several matters that I’ve been pushing to the side to attend to our exchange, but I really must get them cleared up. Perhaps we can meet later tonight for a drink on the Promenade, if you are still in the system by then,” Legate Aren said as a means of bidding the man leave her office.

“The Hydra will be docked for a few days while I get with the team I left here and gather their reports. I’ll meet you at the bar if you let me know when you’re free,” Bastin said as he pushed himself out of the chair he’d been sitting in.

“I will. Until tonight, Captain,” the Legate nodded. The Captain returned the nod and made his way out of the office. Once he was out and the doors had slid closed, Aren let out a long breath. The meeting had gone a lot better than she’d hoped. It was obvious that whatever experience the man and his crew had had with their prisoners hadn’t made them overly willing to stick their necks out to spare them any excessive mistreatments from their new keepers. It was a rare moment in which the Cardassian found herself honestly shocked at how flexible Federation morality actually was when faced with circumstances that pushed the boundaries of their idealistic outlook on others. It was certainly a valuable lesson Aren hadn’t ever thought she would learn in such a fashion.

Glinn Talmet and Lieutenant Nieru entered the single operating bar on Empok Nor, both of them still carrying their rifles. The Glinn had stated rather flatly that he had no desire to return to his office and the Saurian being armed was no great risk given the circumstances, which led the pair to walk through the threshold with their weapons slung over their shoulders. The bartender on duty looked their way, gave them a single nod, and carried on as if it were simply a matter of course. The Cardassian found a suitable table next to a wall that would allow them to post their rifles up so they didn’t need to worry about where they might fit on the table itself.

Once the two were seated, Glinn Talmet threw an arm over the backrest of the chair he was sitting in and let out a tired sigh, “With how peaceful things are in this damn sector, I’d forgotten what it was like to have to deal with a large group of prisoners all at once.”

“Is that something normal for security officers in the Union?” Nieru asked, her posture only relaxing a little.

“I’m not certain normal is the right word for it,” Talmet said, leaning back a bit further as he gave his answer some thought, “But with all the political infighting we’ve had of late, it isn’t rare.”

“I suppose not. I’ve had a few postings that required a higher than average level of correctional activities even within the heart of the Federation, so I can certainly understand it,” the Saurian nodded.

Before Talmet could respond to what his companion had said, the bartender came over with a bottle and two glasses, setting them down wordlessly before returning to the bar. Without a second thought, Talmet poured the contents into the two glasses, sliding one over to Nieru and picking up his own.

“To an uneventful exchange,” the Cardassian said, raising his glass. The Saurian returned the gesture, tapping the man’s glass with her own. With the toast out of the way, Talent knocked the glass back and consumed the entirety of the liquid in one swallow. Neiru, on the other hand, brought the drink to her lips cautiously and only took a small sip to ensure it was something drinkable.

“Kanar?” the woman inquired after her first taste.

“It is,” the Cardassian nodded, “It isn’t a very old vintage, I’ll admit, but that is simply to ensure that I don’t end up with a bottle that’s already spoiled.”

The Saurian nodded in understanding, finally downing the glass herself. The sight of it caused Talmet to start clapping without even thinking about it. He’d spent next to know time around Federation officers since they’d arrived aboard, and his view of them hadn’t been the most favorable. Watching one down kanar like a seasoned Cardassian veteran was simply too much for him to stay quiet about.

“I’m impressed, Lieutenant. I’ve not had the pleasure of drinking with someone not from Cardassia who could handle kanar with such… passion,” Talmet said, his lips contorted into a rather odd grin.

“I would imagine not. There aren’t many who can keep up with me when I drink either among my crew,” Nieru said with what resembled a smirk of her own.

“Oh?” Talmet said, pouring himself another glass, “I hadn’t suspected that you would be much of a drinker. I’d always thought that drinking wasn’t a favorite pastime among the races in the Federation… and even less so for members of Starfleet considering how much they love synthetic alcohol.”

“That is hardly the case. I have had to break up a countless number of drunken bar fights on both starships and starbases. There are more than a few member races in the Federation that find synthetic alcohol to be offensive, and will not imbibe it if the option to drink the real thing is available, no matter what it might be. My own people have been brewing alcohol for centuries, and it is rather popular all throughout the quadrants,” Nieru said, refilling her own glass.

Talmet grunted as he took in the information she’d given him, his fingers turning the glass in his hand around as he considered his rather erroneous impressions of the Federation. He started to wonder idly if the things he’d been told about the Federation for so long actually had any foundation in truth at all, or if it had simply been propaganda from the start and he’d bought into it wholeheartedly.

“Can I ask you something?” Talmet said after draining about half his glass.

“I see no problem with that,” the Saurian said, setting down her own glass.

“Your Federation,” the Cardassian said, “I’ve always been told that your people are weak. That they live in some idyllic fantasy world of abundance, hoarding all that they have away from anyone they don’t deem to be worthy of having what they do…”

Nieru cocked her head to the side, “That’s not a question…”

Talmet gave her a half-smile, “I realize that. I suppose the question is whether anything I’ve said has even a grain of truth to it.”

“I suppose,” the Saurian nodded, “The Federation does have weaknesses when viewed from the outside. Our insistence on equitability is seen by a great many people as being a major weakness. Our reliance on cooperation between hundreds of different cultures working together to create and advance our collective societies despite each world having their own agendas and their own interests is often an argument I’ve heard when dealing with cultures like the Klingons, who value strength above all else.”

Nieru picked up her glass and tossed back the kanar within it, giving the empty vessel a long look before setting it back down pointedly in the center of the table, “The Federation is like this glass. It has potential to hold something great inside, but it can also hold something incredibly foul. The thing is, it doesn’t actually matter what’s in that glass. You could put water in that glass and someone will pick it up, take a sip, and call it the most vile thing they’ve ever put inside their bodies.”

“An interesting metaphor,” Talmet said, his hand rubbing his chin almost reflexively as he thought about what she’d said.

“I wish I could take credit for it,” the Saurian chuckled.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” the Lieutenant said, picking up the bottle to refill her glass, “I’m not the one who came up with that metaphor. It was my Captain who did… and oddly enough, while he was drunk.”

Talmet snorted in laughter, “You mean Captain Bastin?”

“The same.”

The Cardassian let out an even louder laugh, “I can’t imagine that man intoxicated! That must have been an experience.”

“It certainly was. But it wasn’t nearly as amusing as the time that the First Officer also got drunk with the Captain. That was a very interesting exchange…” Nieru said with narrowed eyes.

The Cardassian swung his arm back over his chair and leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, “I’m interested in hearing about this.”

The Saurian looked around the bar for a moment as if looking for a reason not to. When she finally turned back to the Cardassian, she leaned forward herself, “Maybe just the short version, then.”

“I am all ears, Lieutenant,” Talmet said with a grin.

The Saurian then launched into a rather long and involved telling of the story, her audience captive and hanging on her every word as the two of them drained their bottle of kanar and then another, the evening quickly slipping away from them. By the time the second bottle was gone, both of them had traded more than a dozen stories of various exploits. They’d laughed rancorously at times, grown somber at others, but the entire exchange was a positive one when all was said and done.

Glinn Talmet sank back into his seat at one point and shook his head, “I would never have imagined people from the Federation could be so entertaining.”

“Cardassians don’t have a reputation for being the best company either,” the Saurian shot back.

“I suppose there are things we both have to learn about the other,” the Cardassian admitted after a long pause.

“Is that not what this whole station is meant for, Glinn?” a new voice called out to him from just outside his vision. Talmet turned to see Legate Aren standing nearby with her arms folded across her chest, a bemused smile on her lips.

The Glinn rose to his feet, “Legate.”

“You can sit down, Talmet. Seeing you having so much fun with one of our Federation guests pleases me. I’d thought the purpose of our exchange was forever lost on you. And Lieutenant,” the Legate said, turning to the Saurian, “Thank you for helping my Security Chief to lighten up a bit.”

“It has been my pleasure, Legate,” Lt. Nieru said, also rising to her feet.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you two. Please, enjoy the rest of your evening,” Aren said before weaving her way through the crowd to a spot much more hidden from view.

Talmet turned back to his drinking companion, “If the Legate is here, it means that we have spent several hours here already… and I do want to make sure my people have everything well in hand before tomorrow. Perhaps it is best if we end our conversation here.”

“I think you may be right. I need to return to my ship as well,” Nieru said, hoisting her phaser back onto her shoulder, “It was a pleasure though, Glinn. I look forward to sharing another drink with you again sometime.”

“Perhaps I will find some of your people’s alcohol before then, and we can have some together,” Talmet said, putting his own rifle back on his shoulder.

“I look forward to it.”

Legate Sela Aren leaned back in her chair and rolled her stiffened shoulders after finally reaching a point in her backlog that could wait until the following day. Most of the work she’d had to tackle was administrative in nature and was more of an exercise in bureaucracy than anything that she actually had to pay attention to, but it was no less mentally taxing when it piled up and couldn’t be delegated to her Executive Officer.

As she sat basking in her temporary reprieve, Legate Aren recalled her offer to meet with the station’s Federation liaison at the bar. It had been something of an impulsive offer, something she would have offered a coworker in the days when she hadn’t been at the top of the hierarchical ladder. Given that the Captain was the closest thing to a peer she had on the station, difference in rank notwithstanding, it seemed not inappropriate even in hindsight that she’d made such an offer so casually. A few taps of her console’s command inputs saw to it that a message would be transmitted to the USS Hydra, currently moored to the station, letting the man know she was heading toward the Promenade in the next little while.

Legate Aren pushed herself out of her chair, taking a second to stretch out her stiff back muscles, and crossed the small distance it took to exit her office. The sight of her Executive Officer still standing in front of the large central display terminal inspired the woman to make an offer she had yet to make the Dalin since she’d arrived.

“Dalin Nefet,” the Legate said with a small upward quirk to her lips, “I think it’s time you and I shared a drink and socialized with our Federation counterparts.”

The Dalin looked up from her terminal with no small amount of hesitation on her face, “Is there some occasion I wasn’t aware of?”

“No occasion,” Aren said with a shake of her head, “But I do feel that you and I haven’t spent a great deal of time getting to know one another, and from what I can tell, you usually don’t leave Ops until well after I do most days. I believe it is prudent that we get off duty at a respectable time to encourage our subordinates not to think that we expect them to live solely for their duties.”

“I see…” Nefet said with a bit of apprehension.

“If it will ease your misgivings, you may consider it an order,” the Legate said, offering her First Officer no avenues by which she could reasonably refuse.

It seemed that her tactic had proven successful as the Dalin logged off the terminal she was using and fell in behind the Legate as she walked up to the lift. While not entirely pleased that she’d had to resort to implying that it wasn’t optional to motivate her subordinate, Aren was at least glad she hadn’t protested the idea as being simply abhorrent to her. It did, however, make the lift ride down to the Promenade level a silent one.

Once the pair had stepped off the lift, the Legate begane pointing out different things she had started to notice about the way the station, or more importantly, the Promenade was changing. Most of the observations Aren made drew little more than a nod or a grunt of acknowledgment from Nefet, but the woman didn’t seem overly willing to get much more involved in the topics being discussed. Having not spent a great deal of time with the Dalin, Legate Aren couldn’t tell if she was being evasive because of some personal disinterest in the topics or if she simply didn’t care to speak to Aren if it wasn’t related to her duties as the station’s Executive Officer.

As they finally approached the bar, the Legate caught sight of Captain Bastin walking up from the opposite direction, his own First Officer walking beside him. While she hadn’t expected him to have company, the fact that he had brought his own subordinate made things much easier to handle. The Legate put on her best smile as they met up with the Federation group.

“Captain Bastin,” Aren said, shaking the man’s hand despite it not being strictly necessary to do so, “I’m glad to see you brought the Commander with you. I hadn’t thought to tell you I would have Dalin Nefet with me when we parted.”

Capt. Bastin gave his First Officer a sideways look that likely carried some hidden meaning to the two of them before replying, “I thought it would be a good opportunity for the both of us to spend some time with your people in a less formal setting. It would appear that we were thinking the same thing.”

“A pleasure to meet you again, Legate, and a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Dalin. I’m Commander Yuri, First Officer on the Hydra,” the woman accompanying Bastin said by way of introductions.

“Dalin Nefet,” the station XO remarked curtly with a nod to the Human woman.

“Shall we go inside and have that drink?” Bastin motioned toward the bar, seemingly catching the not so subtle hint that Nefet wasn’t overly thrilled to be involved in the exchange. Legate Aren turned and entered the establishment first, followed closely by Captain Bastin. The two First Officers fell in behind, nearly shoulder to shoulder.

Legate Aren took notice of some patrons occupying a table near the far right of the bar and turned back to the Captain, “If you wouldn’t mind grabbing a table toward the back, I want to speak to my Security Chief for a moment.”

“Not at all,” Bastin nodded, breaking away from the Legate to find a suitable table that was far enough away from the main throng as to grant them a modicum of privacy. Aren watched them wonder off before approaching the table she’d had her eyes on. Judging by how involved Glinn Talmet had been with his table companion, Aren had a feeling he wouldn’t notice her until she spoke.

“I suppose there are things we both have to learn about the other,” Aren overheard her security officer say, which brought a rather bemused smile to her lips.

“Is that not what this whole station is meant for, Glinn?” Legate Aren said in response to the man’s comment. Talmet turned to look at her, his look of momentary confusion morphing into recognition.

The Glinn rose to his feet, “Legate.”

“You can sit down, Talmet. Seeing you having so much fun with one of our Federation guests pleases me. I’d thought the purpose of our exchange was forever lost on you. And Lieutenant,” the Legate said, turning to the Saurian, “Thank you for helping my Security Chief to lighten up a bit.”

“It has been my pleasure, Legate,” Lt. Nieru said, also rising to her feet.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you two. Please, enjoy the rest of your evening,” Aren said before weaving her way through the crowd to the table that Captain Bastin had chosen in her absence. The three of them had already taken seats, the two lower ranking individuals closest to the wall while Captain Bastin and the empty chair were on the outermost corner of the table. Legate Aren took her seat, taking a second to get comfortable before resting her arms on the table.

“It was nice to see Glinn Talmet having such an engaging conversation with one of your people, Captain. It gives me hope that the intention behind our endeavor has not been lost on my crew after all,” Aren said with a pleased look.

“I imagine the longer our people are here, the more common it will become. I do appreciate that taking the first steps toward understanding one another are not easy to make and that there will be times when our differences in opinions and outlooks will seem insurmountable,” Bastin remarked.

“I believe there is some Human phrase about that. Something to the effect of worthwhile things being hard…” the Legate said, struggling to recall the actual turn of phrase.

“Most things worth doing are seldom easy,” Cmdr. Yuri offered up, “It’s a phrase my family used on more than one occasion when I was growing up.”

“Ah yes, that was it. Thank you, Commander,” Legate Aren said with a slight bow of her head, “It’s a very pragmatic way of looking at things. It speaks volumes about the importance of hard work.”

“It does indeed,” Capt. Bastin nodded.

Dalin Nefet simply shifted a bit in her seat, not really showing an interest in participating in the small talk. The Legate turned to regard her for a moment before deciding if she didn’t actively prod the woman, she would be content to simply blend into the background and therefore defeat the purpose for her being at the table at all. It was becoming rather apparent that her First Officer wasn’t one to banter with others.

“Nefet, what are your thoughts on such a Cardassian-like sentiment coming from our Federation neighbors?” the Legate inquired.

The Dalin’s eyes narrowed just slightly as she looked over to her superior. That gesture alone told everyone around her that she hadn’t bothered to actually absorb the conversation, instead treating it like part of the background noise in the room. Nefet could tell by the impatient and expectant look on the Legate’s face that her involvement in the conversation wasn’t negotiable.

“It’s unexpected, Legate,” the woman said tersely.

“Unexpected how?” Aren asked, even if she knew the answer she would get. It was an answer she herself would have given had someone asked her the same thing only a few months before. Having no experience with dealing with cultures from outside the Cardassian Union, it had been a bit of a shock to see traits that she had once considered the sole dominion of the Cardassian people being exhibited by people who had once been their enemy.

Nefet let out a breath as if in protest of having to elaborate, “Everything I’ve ever heard regarding the Federation had led me to believe that their rigid adherence to some idealistic moral philosophy made them incapable of any shrewd thinking.”

“Then you might be surprised to hear that among the Federation, Humanity has been admonished a time or two for being two shrewd and suspicious of others despite the outward appearance to the contrary,” Bastin commented with a grin.

The look that crossed the Dalin’s face was a mixture of disbelief and curiosity. Even Aren had a bit of trouble swallowing such a comment at face value. Given the looks Bastin was getting, the man launched into a bit of history.

“Humanity has only really tried to follow the doctrines that the Federation holds as their official position for only two centuries or so. In fact, out of the original signatories of the Federation Charter, Humanity was the newcomer to the galactic stage. We’d only had warp flight for… what… not even a hundred years? And we’d only managed to pull ourselves out of constant political infighting and wars and unite under one banner ten or so years before the Federation Charter was signed. Prior to that, our history was full of people who would, quite frankly, put Cardassians to shame with their schemes and subversive tactics,” Capt. Bastin said with a somewhat somber tone.

His comment actually elicited interest from Dalin Nefet, who couldn’t help but ask, “If your culture was so different, what brought about the radical changes?”

“A lot of it can be attributed to humanity being exposed to races other than itself. Humanity had been convinced for…” Bastin hesitated for a moment before continuing, “practically its entire history as a sentient species that they were alone in the universe. Evidence to the contrary was a pretty big shock when we made first contact with the Vulcans and people were forced to think outside of our one small world. Even before the advent of a warp five capable ship, our neighborhood grew by leaps and bounds. If anything, humanity found itself scrambling to catch up to the rest of the cultures who had been traveling through space for a lot longer than we had. And to be honest, I don’t think humanity truly has caught up with the concepts and values we’ve been asked to embrace. I don’t think any member species in the Federation can honestly claim that they adhere to the idealism that the Federation presents at the foreground.”

“Just look at how we handled the Romulan crisis,” Cmdr. Yuri cut in, “For all of our talk about being there for people who need us, we could have done a whole lot better during that entire period, instead of letting self-interest and our own prejudice against the Romulans for all of the past wrongdoings we’ve endured at their hands taint our response or our willingness to do more than was absolutely required of us.”

“So you’re saying that the Federation backing out of aiding the Romulans after the Mars attack wasn’t purely because of the sudden crippling of your ship building efforts?” Dalin Nefet asked with a dubious look.

“Officially,” Bastin replied, “That’s the rationale behind not sending a rescue fleet to the affected areas. And on the surface it wasn’t a lie in the least, it had crippled out abilities heavily, though not entirely. But it made providing aid an insurmountable project.”

“And your official stance is only a mask for deeper reasons?” Legate Aren said with an intrigued look.

While Bastin merely shrugged, Cmdr. Yuri leaned into the table just a bit, “A lot of people in Starfleet have theories behind why we pulled out of our commitment to help the Romulans after the attack. A lot of rumors went around that it was a sabotage orchestrated by Romulan agencies to prevent us from interfering with their ability to take over the fallen government. I even heard that the Federation just used it as an excuse to get back on the Empire for all the backstabbing we had to put up with since the Romulan War way back when.”

“But all of that is simply rumors,” the Captain followed up flatly.

“But rather intriguing if there is even a hint of truth to them,” Nefet said, rubbing her chin in thought.

“What is so intriguing about that, Dalin?” Aren asked, turning to her XO.

“If any of those rumors have even a kernel of truth to them, it would mean that the Federation as a whole is far less… unfathomable than I had originally thought,” Nefet responded to the question as if it had opened some sort of path that hadn’t been evident before.

Despite not having much to do with her First Officer’s epiphany, Legate Aren looked about as proud of it as if she’d been solely responsible for it, “I think this calls for some drinks.”

“Ah yes… we’re here at a bar to drink and we haven’t had a single sip yet,” Bastin chuckled.

“I will procure us something,” Legate Aren said, slipping out of her chair, “I will be back in a moment.”

As Aren walked away from the table, she could hear the group continue to chat, which was exactly what she’d hoped would happen. As she made her way up to the bar, she was greeted by the man currently running the establishment. He leaned against the counter with a smirk on his face, having noticed how pleased the Legate was.

“I take it that things are going well,” he said smugly.

“They are,” the Legate said with a nod, “Better than I could have hoped, to be blunt. I had thought Nefet was incapable of doing anything that wasn’t part of her duties. I’m very pleased to see that this is not the case, I merely had to find the right catalyst.”

“She’s not a bad officer, but her social skills are a bit lacking,” the bartender said with a cryptic smile.

“So you’ve said before. Someday I’ll even look into how you know that. Today, however, I simply need you to get us a round of drinks,” Aren said, brushing off the man’s attempt at subverting the conversation.

“I have just the thing,” the man said with a sly smile before walking further down the bar.

Legate Aren turned around to take in the bar’s scenery. It was amazing to her as she saw the beginnings of her people merging with the Federation that such a thing had occurred in such a short time. It was even more impressive given that neither of the two camps had gone through any sort of strife that might have spurred such camaraderie in the two wildly different groups. The Legate could only imagine what might happen in the future should they actually share an experience that brings them even closer together.

Glinn Talmet stared through the force field that separated him from the hulking Nausicaan sitting on the slab that served as a bench and bed in the holding cell just adjacent to the Cardassian’s office. The Security Chief’s staff had been diligent throughout the night, managing to extract a fair amount of information from the low-level thugs that were fortunate enough to have kept their lives during the Federation raid on their hideout. The individual glaring at Talmet currently had been singled out by his peers as the one with the most authority out of the survivors. What that actually meant among a group of raiders and thugs was fairly open to interpretation. The most critical thing it meant for the Cardassian Security Chief was that he had found someone who might just have something worth hearing.

Glinn Talmet had been quietly observing his prisoner for nearly a half hour, saying not a single word nor moving from the spot he’d taken up. The man inside the cell hadn’t really given it any thought at first, since he’d gotten used to being watched on the Federation ship he’d been taken aboard after the rather short and embarrassing showing that he and his compatriots had against the four Starfleet vessels. What he hadn’t been used to, however, was someone standing stock still, just watching his every movement as if he was looking for something. It was a rather unnerving experience judging by how agitated he was getting.

“Are you here to torture me like you did to all the rest of the spineless wretches you’ve caught?” the Nausicaan finally said, his patience having reached a terminus.

“Why would I do that?” Talmet asked, modulating his voice to purposely sound confused over the question.

“Because that’s what you Cardassians do, isn’t it?” the shot back, his glare never slacking.

Talmet shrugged apathetically, “When it serves our purposes, I won’t deny it is a useful tool. It simply isn’t useful in this instance.”

The Nausicaan let out a laugh, “Lost your nerve?”

“Hardly,” Talmet said dryly, “I just understand that pain isn’t what will loosen your tongue. I’m simply waiting for something that will. You see… I’m in no real hurry to ask you anything. I will get what I want sooner or later. Just as all your so-called friends gave you up, so too shall you give up your superiors in due time.”

“Ha!” the Nausicaan remained undaunted, “The only reason you heard about me was because your little guards managed to squeeze the weaklings and pry my name from their lips. And that’s all you’ve managed to get. They know nothing because they are pathetic and their tongues wag too quickly.”

“Your assessment of your peers is rather accurate. They were weak… but they did provide hints as to who is behind your ilk. All I need from you is confirmation of what I already know. And as I said before… I’m patient,” the Cardassian said with a mocking smirk.

“Awfully confident for a spineless worm,” the Nausicaan growled.

Even if the door leading from his office hadn’t opened at that particular moment, Glinn Talmet wouldn’t have bothered to respond to the man. He’d already planted the seeds in his relatively tiny mind and he was ready to move on to the next step. The Cardassian that walked in had a satchel with him, containing the items that would make the Nausicaan talk no matter how much he was against the idea. It was, in this particular instance, far more effective than some measured application of pain since Nausicaans inflicted far worse on themselves for sheer pleasure.

“Do you have everything you need,” The Glinn inquired of the Gil who had walked in.

“I do,” the man nodded in response.

“Very well… let us begin the interrogation,” Talmet said, looking over to the man inside the cell with a neutral expression.

Legate Aren glanced up when the chime to her office door went off, taking in the visage of her Security Chief. The man had a PaDD in his hand, and judging by the time, it seemed likely he’d finally managed to get something out of his prisoners that required a report. Without looking, Aren tapped the command on her desk that would allow him access and waited for him to walk inside and take a seat.

“I assume you have something to report,” the Legate said as she leaned back into her chair.

“I believe so. Most of the prisoners were either newly inducted into the group and knew nothing, but a few of the longer serving ones were able to remember fragments of things that seemed interesting. They also pointed us in the direction of one of their own who had a much greater understanding of how their organization worked and who they were working for… at least on the surface,” Talmet explained.

“So they weren’t just ordinary thugs then?” Aren asked, her curiosity piqued.

“No, Legate, they were not. It took some time, but the Nausicaan gave us a great deal of information regarding the inner workings of their group, as well as some names for mid-level criminals in another group that has been laying low not too far from Raltek Nor, just inside the Badlands,” the man replied.

“Raltek Nor…” Aren repeated the name of the station as she tried to recall why the name sounded familiar. Her eyebrows rose a moment in recognition, then drew down again when she tied that information together with what she’d just heard.

“Are you saying that our own people might be somehow connected with these raiders?” The Legate asked, looking to gauge whether she’d put the pieces together correctly or not.

“In the most broad of terms, yes. Cardassians have been allegedly in contact with this group, however their origins and affiliations are so far unconfirmed given that our informant hasn’t had direct contact with them, he has only laid eyes on them twice,” the Glinn responded to the woman’s suspicions.

“Did your informant tell you whether the Raltek Nor has been aiding his cohorts out there?” Aren asked the obvious follow-up question.

“He claims the opposite, that the station routinely sends out hunting parties, which has driven them to hide in the Badlands. From what he knows of their arrangement with the Cardassians he has seen, they have only tipped them off to lucrative transports in the area and nothing more. Given their pattern of activity, it would seem that information is true. They have run into units aligned with Central Command several times and have either been wiped out or close to it. That would seem to indicate that Central Command simply wanted us to fail in our defense of this area, as their response hasn’t extended into areas that the Council actively controls,” The Glinn reported.

“So it would seem that the True Way has decided to set these pirates about their task, hoping that the tension between the Council and Central Command will only worsen and they can swoop in when we’re both distracted and seize control…” Aren mused.

“It isn’t an unlikely scenario,” the Glinn said with a bit of a shrug.

“For the time being, at least,” the Legate said vaguely as she leaned her elbow against her armrest and rested her jaw against her balled fist, “It could well be even more complicated or convoluted than that. As much as the Legates in Central Command might say to the contrary, they aren’t above using Obsidian Order tricks if it serves their purposes.”

“Do you believe there to be something deeper going on than what has already been uncovered?” Talmet asked, an edge of anticipation in his voice.

“I suspect… just as any good Cardassian should. Were I not to assume that things were never entirely as they seemed, I wouldn’t be where I am now. Being wrong is inconsequential if we are more vigilant and wary of our enemies’ movements. Start sifting through reports of True Way activity in the areas where these criminals were active, see if things line up. If so, then we know our information is solid and we can move accordingly. If not, we can dig elsewhere. Have a report for me within the week,” the Legate said after giving the matter some thought.

“I will work on that,” Talmet said, pushing himself out of his chair.

“Before I forget,” Aren said, stopping the man, “I wanted to reiterate how nice it was to see you getting along so well with our Federation guests. I hope it was an enlightening experience for you.”

Talmet took a moment to consider his reply, “It wasn’t what I expected dealing with them would be like. And at least some of them aren’t completely useless.”

“Then I needn’t remind you that having connections, even within the Federation, is not a wasted effort if they turn out to benefit us,” the Legate said with a knowing smile.

“I will keep it in mind,” Glinn Talmet said before committing to leaving the office once more.

Legate Sela Aren was currently listening to Glinn Talmet as he outlined the request that had been made by Captain Bastin for information regarding the behavior of his staff during his absence. None of the information was classified in any manner, which had prompted the Glinn to release it without thinking too much of it. What had caused him some measure of confusion was the request that had come after it.

“… At that point Captain Bastin requested that we arrest any of the personnel that had been involved in any fights aboard the station in his absence and try them under our penal jurisdiction,” the Glinn came to the end of his report.

The Legate’s eyes narrowed as she considered the information she’d just been told. It was far from unusual to see a commander bring about swift punishment to subordinates who caused problems in the Cardassian military structure. She herself had done so with far larger numbers when she had taken command of a ship many years ago as a means of asserting her position of absolute supremacy. The strange thing about the situation was that it had come from a Starfleet officer, a diplomat no less.

“This certainly is interesting, Glinn,” Aren admitted, “And not a move I had thought the Captain capable of making.”

“It makes one wonder what his intentions are…” Glinn Talmet said, though the comment had a tone of respect to it rather than suspicion.

“I would almost be inclined to accept that this is a power play meant to remind his people that he is still in command even if not directly overseeing things here. A rather bold statement considering he is supposed to be a diplomat at heart,” Aren said with a smirk.

“But is that all there could be to it?” Talmet inquired.

“I don’t imagine the Federation to be capable of ulterior motives in the same capacity that we are,” the Legate said before correcting herself, “But that doesn’t mean that the Captain himself is incapable of the same without their knowledge or approval. He has consistently defied expectations when it comes to handling our exchange here.”

“The fact that he is removing every person we had any leverage against him seems to indicate that he is at least understanding of how our reactions to their little indiscretions might have been used in the future,” Talmet said in a contemplative tone.

“It would seem our leniency has come back to bite us sooner than expected,” the Legate said with a brisk chuckle, “I hadn’t imagined it would take so little time for someone to notice that we had handled things any differently than normal.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t anything we did,” Talmet said after a brief pause, “The fact that he asked for our accounts of the incidents might mean that his own people possibly lied about it.”

The Legate hummed at the suggestion, “I hadn’t considered that to be a possibility. The prevailing impression I have of Starfleet is that they are rather honest in their handling of situations.”

“It might not have been outright lies,” Talmet offered, “perhaps it is better to say that they didn’t include information that we made no effort to control. Omissions don’t seem to be above the Federation, given what we’ve learned from our prisoners.”

“You make a good point, Glinn. While lies are likely a tad far outside of their normal proclivities, leaving something out does seem to be just inside the gray they are comfortable skirting,” Aren nodded.

“Shall I accept the request to arrest his people on sight should they return to the station?” the Glinn asked.

“Yes,” the woman nodded in reply, “Though I don’t think it will actually occur. Our handling of criminals who break laws is likely well known among them, and I don’t foresee anyone running the risk of being prosecuted. They would all be, of course, guilty. A fact that even their superior himself has already agreed to by making the request in the first place.”

“It is to be expected,” Talmet said with a nod of his head.

“Certainly, from a Cardassian,” Aren said with a smirk, “But the Captain is not. I believe in this case he is using us for his benefit to control the behavior of his people. A very calculated move on his part.”

It took the Security Chief a moment to realize what she was getting at, “He’s using their fear of prosecution at our hands as a means to ensure their cooperation with his directives, knowing that without such a deterrent in place they might simply disobey his orders.”

“That would be my guess, and far be it from me to deny the man his victory. Go as far as posting guards at the docking pylon belonging to the ship they have been ordered to return to. Make a show of us being serious in our commitment to this,” the Legate said.

“As you command,” the Glinn nodded as he sent a note to his staff via the PaDD he was carrying with him.

“Not that I expect anyone to actually attempt it, but do let me know if we manage to catch someone trying to return once they’ve all been removed from the station. I would like to get some use out of them before they are out of our hands. It seems a waste to let the opportunity slip away now that Captain Bastin is clearing the board of pawns,” Legate Aren said in a rueful tone.

“It would be unfortunate, yes, but I don’t believe we will find one. Glinn Ilmok is already coordinating the transfer of their personal belongings at Captain Bastin’s behest. It would appear that he was meticulous in his preparations to remove them from the station,” Talmet remarked.

“Far more cunning than he looks,” Aren chuckled softly, “Very well. We will simply have to admit that he outmaneuvered us this time around and wait for another opportunity to present itself further down the line.”

“I would imagine that given the response this time around, we may have to wait a considerable length of time before another member of the Federation falls for our provocations,” the Glinn offered.

“Perhaps,” Legate Aren said with a slight shrug, “If anything we learned that our counterparts aren’t lacking in vigilance. It is something we must take into account as we continue to work hand in hand with them. I admit I was a little surprised to see you taking so much interest in this all of a sudden. You were so vehemently against the Council’s decision to host this cultural exchange that I thought you might resort to sabotaging our efforts.”

“The thought had crossed my mind,” the man confessed, “However, having seen first hand how cooperation with the Federation can yield us some interesting benefits, I have come to accept that Cardassia would benefit more from this exchange being successful than it would from it being purposely ruined.”

“If only the fools in Central Command would come to the realization that they aren’t serving Cardassia with their own destructive tendencies, we would be far better off…” Aren grumbled.

“There are some who might yet wake to the truth, should we be successful here,” Talmet remarked.

“I can only hope that you are correct. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Glinn. I will need time to figure out our next move, but this will certainly make things easier for me. I may call upon you later to assist me in moving things forward with our guests. Until then, keep an eye on them and let me know if things change at all,” Legate Aren said in a dismissive manner.

“Of course, Legate. Excuse me,” the Glinn rose to his feet and departed the office.