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Chapter Text

When Keiko Ishikawa arrived at the Bajoran space station Kejal, her left leg had fallen asleep from sitting in a tiny shuttle for five hours. She thanked the pilot, a Starfleet Lieutenant wearing a distinctly uncomfortable expression, and stumbled into the airlock with her small bag of possessions, trying to shake the numbness out of her leg.

The pilot didn’t follow her. Starfleet officers weren’t exactly welcome on Kejal since the civil war, which was why Keiko had travelled the last leg of the trip in a nondescript shuttle rather than the USS Yorktown she’d been on previously.

The station had an unwelcoming architectural design with its spiky exterior, a result of its Cardassian design. Keiko hoped it wouldn’t be as unwelcoming inside, but since few people from the Federation had been allowed aboard recently, she had no idea what to expect. The only background she had was what little she’d been told by Commander Adrian who’d served on the station two years ago.

Keiko’s throat was dry. She hadn’t been this nervous since the day she’d defended her dissertation.

The airlock finished cycling and its round door slid open to reveal two Bajorans wearing military uniforms. The one on the left was a tall woman with dark hair in a tight bun. But Keiko’s eyes were immediately drawn to the one on the right with close-cropped red hair whose striking features she recognized from a picture Commander Adrian had shown her. This was Kira Nerys – the woman she’d been warned about.

“Welcome to Kejal station, Dr. Ishikawa,” Kira said. “I’m Colonel Kira of the Bajoran militia, commanding officer of this station. This is my first officer Major Okala.”

Kira had a firm, confident style of speech. Her voice and presence took up space.

“Thank you very much,” Keiko said as she awkwardly stepped over the rim of the airlock, almost stumbling again.

She inwardly cursed her numb leg, knowing how important it was to make a good impression. Commander Adrian had warned her that Kira had little patience and didn’t like to be challenged. Keiko intended to be as accommodating as possible to show the Bajorans that she accepted being here on their terms.

“I greatly appreciate the opportunity the Bajoran government has granted me in approving my temporary position here,” Keiko said, “I anticipate fruitful progress made in collaboration with your scientists.”

Kira’s expression remained unchanged, but Okala smiled slightly as if amused.

“The Bajoran members of the research team you’ll be joining will arrive tomorrow,” Okala said. “We’re not sure if you’re aware, but we’ve also invited a Romulan scientist to take part in this research. She arrived yesterday. We hope this won’t prove to be an… issue.”

Keiko didn’t let her surprise show. She definitely hadn’t been aware she’d be working with any non-Bajorans, let alone a Romulan. It must be some sort of political power play on the part of the Bajorans – inviting a Federation scientist to take part in important research while secretly also inviting the Romulans.

“That’s no problem at all,” Keiko said, keeping her voice friendly. “I’m sure there won’t be any issues. Not from me, anyway.”

Oops, that last part sounded passive aggressive. She quickly pasted her unthreatening smile back in place.

She was already exhausted of the politics and she’d barely spent a minute on the station. Not for the first time, she asked herself what she’d been thinking accepting this job.

“Your team is scheduled to meet at 0900 tomorrow,” Kira said. “In the meantime, we’d be happy to show you to your quarters and provide a tour of the station.”

“Your hospitality is deeply appreciated,” Keiko said.

She expected Okala to escort her, so she was surprised when it was Kira who gestured for Keiko to follow her, Okala disappearing in the other direction.

Objectively, Keiko wasn’t remotely important enough to warrant a formal greeting and tour of the station from the station commander. Keiko was only a scientist here to conduct research of minor importance in the grand scheme of Alpha Quadrant politics, though of course it was of significance to the Bajorans. But she was the first Federation citizen who wasn’t part of an ambassadorial delegation to set foot on the station in two years, so she’d found herself embroiled in politics anyway.

“The station’s layout can be intimidating for newcomers,” Kira said as she led Keiko into yet another corridor. “Maps are available on any computer terminal.”

“Thank you,” Keiko murmured, afraid to say anything that might unwittingly offend the colonel.

They stepped onto a turbolift.

“I’ve been told you’re a botanist specializing in alien ecology,” Kira said, her tone somewhat clipped but not impolite.

“Yes,” Keiko said cautiously as the turbolift descended. “I have a degree in xenobotany and I’ve studied alien plant interactions in a variety of ecosystems.”

“I’m far from a scientist,” Kira said with less confidence, as if she wasn’t used to this kind of discussion. “All I know about plants are which ones in the province I’m from are edible. But I understand you know a lot about invasive alien plants.”

Keiko’s wariness toward Kira began to thaw. Despite Commander Adrian’s dramatic description of an unreasonable woman eager to start an argument, Kira had so far been perfectly civil. Maybe she’d changed since Adrian had known her. Or maybe, Keiko thought wryly, Adrian’s perspective on Kira had been somewhat biased.

“Much of my research has been related to invasive species,” Keiko said. “I study the way alien plants interact with native ecosystems.”

“And you figure out how to get rid of them?”

“Potentially,” Keiko said carefully. “Ecosystems are complex, and alien species complicate them even further. But I promise I intend to assist your scientists in helping your planet’s ecosystems heal from the Cardassian occupation.”

“That’s good to hear,” Kira said, seemingly satisfied.

Keiko had expected to be met with suspicion and aggression, and her expectations had seemingly been confirmed by the revelation of a Romulan on her team. She wasn’t prepared for Kira’s awkward politeness.

“Here are your quarters,” Kira said.

A door slid open to reveal a moderately sized room with a wide window that offered a stunning view of Bajor below, a green ocean sparkling in the reflected sunlight.

Keiko set her bag on a table, gazing at the view.

“My planet,” Kira said. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” Keiko said. “Seeing planets from above always makes me think of the true breadth of complexity invisible from up here. Within a thin cocoon of atmosphere, millions of species live out their lives, breathing the air and decomposing into the dirt and ever-evolving. And yet all I see from up here are wide swaths of color.”

She looked over at Kira who studied her with her head tilted.

“Very poetic,” she said. “I’m glad you appreciate my planet’s beauty. The Cardassians tried, but they could never destroy it.”

Keiko didn’t know how to comprehend the enormity of the Cardassian occupation. She’d only read about it. Kiira had lived it.

“Dr. Ishikawa,” Kira said abruptly. “I’m a straightforward person. I don’t like playing political games. I prefer when everyone’s upfront about their intentions. So I’m just going to ask the obvious question. Are you a Starfleet spy?”

Keiko blinked at the sudden change of subject. This was the sort of confrontation she’d expected. But it was also a reasonable question. Keiko had asked Commander Adrian a similar one when he’d unexpectedly come to speak to her about the research position she’d been offered. She was a scientist, she’d told him. She was interested only in Bajoran ecosystems, not political games between the Federation and Bajor.

“I’m a civilian botanist,” Keiko said, meeting Kira’s gaze. “I don’t work for Starfleet.”

“But you’re loyal to the Federation. You believe in its supremacy.”

“I, uh, wouldn’t put it like that.”

“How would you put it?”

The full force of Kira’s attention was intense and Keiko forced herself not to back up a step.

“I’m a Federation citizen,” she said. “I believe in the values the Federation stands for, one of which is that no society should have supremacy over any other. But I don’t work for the government or Starfleet. I did travel here on a Starfleet ship, and several Starfleet officers asked me about my job here, but I have no agenda apart from completing my work to the best of my ability.”

Keiko and Kira met each other’s gaze for an uncomfortable moment. Finally, Kira nodded decisively.

“All right,” she said.

“All right?” Keiko said, startled once more.

Kira shrugged.

“I believe you,” she said. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. The work you’ll be doing isn’t classified, and we don’t have anything to hide from the Federation. I only asked because my superiors wanted me to form an impression of your intentions. I think they expected a more subtle approach, but subtle isn’t exactly in my vocabulary. I asked the same question to the Romulan scientist yesterday.”

Keiko’s mouth fell open.

“You asked the Romulan if she was a spy?”

“She said yes.”

Keiko laughed, and Kira’s lips quirked into a brief smile.

“Well,” Keiko said, the entire conversation feeling surreal. “At least we’re all honest.”

“I prefer it that way,” Kira said.

Maybe it was the amusement in Kira’s eyes or the inexplicable feeling of connection Keiko felt, but she let her guard slip and said the first words that popped into her mind.

“You’re nothing like what I was led to expect.”

Kira frowned, and Keiko’s heartrate spiked as she realized she shouldn’t have said that.

“What were you led to expect?” Kira asked, her tone taking on a sharp edge.

What was there to do but be honest? Keiko hadn’t come here with the intention of keeping secrets.

“Like I said, I spoke to several Starfleet officers about my work here. One of them used to be assigned to this station.”

“Adrian,” Kira guessed, her tone turning dark.

It was clear Kira didn’t like Commander Adrian at all.

“Yes. He told me he’d worked with you and that you were strongly opposed to any Federation or human presence in Bajoran space. I assumed this meant you’d be opposed to my presence here.”

“Ha,” Kira said without humor. “He would say that.”

“I… take it the two of you didn’t get along.”

“Like two carnivorous rastipods. It was a doomed partnership, Bajor and the Federation.”

Keiko didn’t know if she had an opinion yet on that subject, but one thing was clear.

“Adrian’s description of you seems inaccurate and biased,” she said. “For all I know, he was the one who was unreasonable and unwilling to compromise.”

Kira actually smiled – a real, full smile this time.

“You know what?” she said. “I think I might like you, Dr. Ishikawa.”

To Keiko’s horror, she found herself blushing slightly at that. What was wrong with her?

“To be clear,” Kira said, “I have no problem with humans in Bajoran space. It’s alien military groups taking over our station I take issue with.”

“Starfleet.”

“They’re not the Cardassians. I know. But this station was built by Bajoran hands and it belongs to us. You’re not Starfleet. Like you said, you’re a civilian scientist. I have no problem with you.”

“That’s good to hear.”

They looked at each other for a long moment.

“Would you like a tour of Kejal station?” Kira finally said.

That evening, Keiko was exhausted. She hadn’t slept much last night, and that had been fifteen hours ago. She didn’t let herself get into bed yet, though. Kejal kept 26-hour time, and Keiko had to get used to it.

After a brief call with her mother during which she assured her of her safe arrival, Keiko wandered Kejal’s promenade, impressed by the variety of shops available. Most were run by Bajorans, but several were run by Ferengi, and a few by other species entirely.

Keiko couldn’t stop thinking about Colonel Kira. It was ridiculous. She’d met her only this morning and spent no more than forty-five minutes with her on a tour of the station, yet she found herself distracted by memories of their conversation.

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” were the last words she’d said.

She’d meant the words as a casual politeness, but they’d come out with too much genuine warmth.

Kira had smiled again – a surprisingly warm smile that transformed her entire face – and said, “It was a pleasure to meet you too.”

Keiko told herself to put Kira out of her mind. She likely wouldn’t see Kira more than a few more times over the next year. Kira was, after all, the commander of this entire station. She’d spoken to Keiko personally only because she’d been trying to determine if she was a threat.

And yet still Keiko was plagued by thoughts.

She arrived at Quark’s – the bar Kira had said was most heavily frequented by Kejal’s non-Bajoran population.

“Quark was the first Ferengi business owner on the station,” Kira had said with undisguised disgust. “He was here during the occupation. If I had my way, we’d have kicked him out, but unfortunately his presence has been useful.”

Keiko stepped uncertainly inside, walking past tables full of customers and several people shouting as they played a gambling game. There were Bajorans here, but also members of many other species. There were even two Klingons laughing loudly in the corner.

“A human!” exclaimed a Ferengi behind the bar wearing an elaborately patterned coat. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen one of your kind in here, aside from the doctor, of course. Well, everyone is welcome at Quark’s as long as they have latinum!”

“I have latinum,” Keiko said dryly. Her university had provided her with what seemed a ridiculously large sum of Bajoran currency and she’d converted some to latinum earlier that day at a steep exchange rate. “Are you Quark?”

“I am,” Quark said. “What can I get you?”

“I’d suggest a raktajino,” said an unfamiliar voice.

Keiko turned to find the only human she’d seen since this morning. He wore a Bajoran uniform.

“Doctor Bashir,” Quark said. “We were just talking about you.”

“You must be Keiko Ishikawa,” Bashir said.

“You know about me?” Keiko said, surprised.

“Oh, everyone here knows about you,” Bashir said with a youthful grin that might be interpreted as flirtatious. “The first Federation scientist to be invited to the station in a long time. I don’t suppose you already know of me?”

“I do, actually. Commander Adrian spoke to me before I came here and he, uh, mentioned you.”

“I’m sure his description of me was hardly flattering.”

In fact, Adrian had seemed to dislike Bashir even more than he disliked Kira.

“I’m getting the sense that Commander Adrian’s information wasn’t exactly unbiased,” Keiko said. “Colonel Kira was nothing like his description, so it seems reasonable to guess you’ll be nothing like his description either.”

“Ah, you’ve met the Colonel, then,” Bashir said brightly. “Extraordinary woman. Her word was the reason the Bajorans allowed me to stay here, and she doesn’t even like me!”

“She doesn’t like me either and she let me stay,” Quark said jealously. “You’re not special.”

Bashir elected to ignore this.

“Let me buy you a drink,” he said to Keiko.

His tone was undeniably flirtatious this time. Well, one thing Adrian had told her about Bashir seemed true.

“That’s a kind offer,” Keiko said. “But I’ve got my own latinum.” She turned to Quark. “One Vulcan spice tea, please, if it’s available.”

“Ha!” Quark said, presumably at Keiko’s clear rejection. “Coming right up.”

Bashir seemed unbothered, taking the seat beside Keiko’s.

A short time later, Quark returned with Keiko’s drink and she handed him her carefully counted latinum, marveling at the rarity of the experience of handling physical money.

“I’m curious,” Bashir said, “what are they saying about me back in the Federation?”

“Well, nothing really,” Keiko said apologetically. “I think they tried to keep your existence secret, or at least not turn it into a big news story. I was surprised when Commander Adrian told me a Starfleet officer had given up his Federation citizenship to remain on Kejal after Starfleet left.”

“Did he tell you why I did it?”

Keiko took a sip of her drink before answering.

“Not exactly.”

Commander Adrian had said Bashir was a disloyal bastard, but that wasn’t exactly an explanation.

“I did it because it was the right thing to do,” Bashir said loftily. “I was doing good work here, and I wasn’t about to stop just because Starfleet decided to pick sides in a conflict they should have stayed out of.”

“He also disobeyed a direct order and didn’t want to get court martialed,” Quark supplied from the other end of the bar.

Bashir glared at him.

“I disobeyed an immoral order,” he said, “because I have a conscience. Not that you’d understand something like that, Quark. Anyway, the Bajorans only agreed to let me stay because Kira vouched for me. And here I am today, waiting to see if the government will grant me Bajoran citizenship.”

Keiko wasn’t sure what to think of Bashir. He didn’t seem like the careless young Starfleet officer who’d abandoned the Federation on a whim that Adrian had described. Keiko couldn’t imagine ever giving up her Federation citizenship, but what business of hers were Bashir’s choices?

“What about you?” Bashir asked. “What made you decide to take this job?”

“A colleague at my university suggested I apply,” Keiko said. “The Bajorans were looking for people with expertise in invasive alien plant species, and that happens to be what I’ve been studying for the last five years. I accepted the job because I’ve spent most of my life on Earth and everything was starting to feel… stale.”

“A new and exciting adventure in an unfamiliar place.”

“Something like that.”

“I asked for an assignment on this station, you know, back when it was called DS9. I was just out of university and I wanted something exciting and challenging. Well, I certainly got that.”

“So you’re one of the station’s doctors?”

“Chief medical officer. They let me keep my title – I just had to change my uniform. It’s worked out well. Everyone on the station knew me, so I already had friends.”

Keiko resisted the urge to ask if he regretted leaving the Federation. That was far too personal of a question for someone she’d just met.

“Well, I have a meeting scheduled,” Bashir said. “I’ll see you around, Keiko – can I call you Keiko?”

“Sure.”

“Then call me Julian.”

Keiko was up early the next morning, still used to her old sleep cycle. She spent the extra time looking through the Bajoran biological science database.

She was somewhat surprised when the door to her quarters chimed, but she was even more surprised to find Colonel Kira outside. Keiko was immediately filled with giddy excitement, which was quickly replaced by anxiety. What reason would Kira have to be here unless something was wrong? Had the Bajorans decided to kick her off the station after all?

“Good morning, Colonel,” Keiko said.

“Good morning,” Kira said. “I… hope I didn’t wake you.”

Keiko looked down self-consciously as she realized she was still wearing her sleeping robe that showed an awfully large amount of her legs and chest.

“Oh, not at all!” Keiko said, her voice far too chipper. “I’ve been awake for hours. The time change, you know?”

“Right,” Kira said, clearly avoiding looking at Keiko’s plunging neckline. “I came to let you know that the rest of your team has arrived at the station and will meet at the scheduled time.”

“That’s great!” Keiko said. “Thanks for letting me know.”

There had to be something else. Kira wouldn’t have come down here just to tell her everything was proceeding as scheduled.

“I also wanted to check on how you’re settling in,” Kira said. “Have you been finding your way around the station?”

“Yes, everything’s been straightforward,” Keiko said, searching Kira’s face for an ulterior motive.

“Good. That’s good.”

Keiko was at a loss for what to say next. She awkwardly tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and Kira’s gaze darted to the side again as if embarrassed.

“I’d better get back to Ops,” she said.

That was it? That was all Kira had come to say?

Of course, there was a possible explanation. The way Kira glanced away from Keiko’s sleeping robe and the way she’d apparently come to see Keiko on a pretense…

Keiko felt an unwise flutter of excitement. This wasn’t a good idea. Kira was the commander of this station whose relationship with the Federation was tenuous. Keiko was a grown adult perfectly capable of not acting on her attraction to another person. Besides, she was probably misreading the situation.

Yet she found herself saying, “Wait, Colonel. I wonder if you’d like to join me for dinner this evening. I was thinking of trying out that little Rakantha province restaurant on the promenade, and I’d love to hear more about your work.”

Kira’s lips quirked up.

“That’s my favorite restaurant,” she said.

“Of course, I’m sure you’re very busy.”

“I’d be happy to join you for dinner,” Kira said. “I was hoping to learn more about your work too. I rarely get the chance to talk to scientists.”

“Would 19:30 hours work for you?” Keiko asked, hardly believing the situation she’d gotten herself into.

“I’ll be there.”

There was plenty to distract Keiko from her unwise dinner plans, since she was about to meet the rest of her research team. She got lost searching for the meeting room, but she’d left early enough that she still arrived on time. The three Bajorans were already sitting around a table.

“You must be Dr. Ishikawa,” said a woman wearing a more elaborate earring than most other Bajorans. Keiko didn’t know enough about Bajoran religion to know if that signified anything. “I’m Dr. Ru Pallra, the team lead.” She gestured to the other two. “This is our zoologist Yndar and my graduate student Belar. We’re waiting for the fifth member of our team.”

That would be the Romulan. Keiko was distracted by Ru Pallra’s name, however.

“Dr. Ru,” she said. “I just read a paper of yours this morning on Bajoran cave ecosystems. I had no idea you were the team lead.”

It wasn’t long until they were involved in friendly conversation. Keiko learned that Ru was an expert in the ecology of Kendra province – the region they would be studying – and her graduate student Belar had until recently been a farmer there with a lot of first-hand knowledge.

“Melok is a geneticist with a specialty in Cardassian plant and animal species,” Ru told Keiko. “Which I’m sure she’ll tell us about whenever she arrives.”

She glanced meaningfully at the clock which showed that Melok was ten minutes late.

“A Romulan expert on the lifeforms of Cardassia?” Keiko said. “Interesting.”

“I’m sure they have experts on Earth biology as well,” Yndar said. “In addition to any planet whose dominant species could pose a threat to the Romulan empire.”

“We do,” said a voice from the doorway.

It was Melok, who’d finally arrived. She gazed at the four of them with a distinctly unimpressed expression, then walked briskly to her seat.

“Shall we get started?” she said.

All in all, Keiko thought as she returned to her quarters and changed into a nice dress she’d hastily replicated, the day had gone well. Her colleagues had an impressively wide array of knowledge, and they’d come up with a tentative plan for their areas of focus throughout the year. They would primarily be working from Kejal’s labs, but they would take several scheduled trips to Bajor’s surface to observe the ecosystem in person.

Keiko turned around to study her new dress in the mirror. It looked nice, but was it too informal? She tied her hair back, then decided it looked better down.

There were fifteen minutes until she was due to meet Kira. This wasn’t a date, she reminded herself. She and Kira merely wanted to learn more about each other’s work.

She arrived at the restaurant five minutes early and picked a table in the far-left corner of the seating area. Not long after, she spotted Kira across the promenade speaking to a Bajoran shopkeeper who seemed unhappy. Keiko couldn’t hear their conversation, but she watched as Kira spoke calmly to the shopkeeper who began to nod and look less upset. Clearly, Kira was far from the unreasonable person Commander Adrian had described.

Kira left the shopkeeper and walked toward the restaurant. She had a confident, purposeful way of walking as if she knew with certainty that each movement was the right one. She had the sort of straightforwardness and solidity that Keiko had always found terribly attractive, which was definitely not something she should be thinking about.

“Good evening, Colonel,” Keiko said.

“Good evening,” Kira said. “Sorry I’m late, I had to deal with a noise complaint for the third time this… Oh, you replicated a Bajoran dress.”

“I took very little clothing with me,” Keiko said. “I’m used to packing light.”

“My first officer wears that dress pattern sometimes,” Kira said. “Apparently it’s fashionable right now, though I don’t follow fashion myself. It looks nice on you. Uh, anyway, should we order dinner?”

Keiko followed Kira to the counter where orders were taken, trying not to think about Kira’s compliment.

Kira ordered hasperat, and Keiko ordered the same, following the wisdom of one who’d eaten here before.

“It’s spicy,” Kira warned.

Keiko said she could handle it.

“How was your first day of work?” Kira asked once they’d sat back down to wait.

Keiko described the preliminary planning they’d done.

“There’s always some difficulty working with people from different scientific backgrounds,” Keiko said. “But in the long run it’s important to have diverse skillsets on a project of this scope. Ten experts in the same field will miss something crucial that one scientist from a different field could have noticed.”

“It was like that in the resistance too,” Kira said. “We needed different people with different skills working toward the same goal.”

“You were a resistance leader?”

Commander Adrian had mentioned something about that.

“Not a leader, really. I did whatever needed doing to defeat the Cardassians, but I’ve never been much of a leader. I still don’t understand how I ended up with this job.”

Keiko thought about the way Kira had calmed down that shopkeeper and how everyone on the station nodded respectfully when she passed. Ru, the lead researcher of Keiko’s team, had mentioned her in an admiring tone.

“It must be a difficult job,” Keiko said. “It seems like you do it well.”

“If you believe that, I know for certain you’re not Starfleet,” Kira said.

Kira told Keiko more about Kejal and the work they were doing to renovate the parts of the station designed for ore processing.

“This station was a place of hardship during the occupation,” Kira said. “There were some who advocated for abandoning it for what it symbolized. I sympathized, but in the end, that would only be granting the Cardassians more power over us. This station was built by Bajoran hands and it belongs to us. You know what Kejal means?”

“Freedom,” said Keiko who had looked it up before her arrival.

Kira nodded.

“This is no longer Terok Nor or Deep Space Nine. This is a Bajoran station, and we have made it our own.”

Their food arrived and Keiko discovered that hasperat was indeed very spicy, but equally delicious. Kira seemed pleased that she liked it.

“Not many non-Bajorans appreciate a good hasperat,” she said. “Commander Adrian pretended he could handle it, but I caught him dumping his back in the replicator once. He wouldn’t look me in the eye for days.”

Keiko laughed at this mental image.

Their conversation went on long after they’d finished eating. Kira was surprisingly easy to talk to now that Keiko had gotten over her initial intimidation.

Once, Keiko’s hand brushed against Kira’s as she reached for her cup, and neither of them moved their hands for a fraction too long.

This was a valuable cultural exchange, Keiko told herself. Maybe in the long run these kinds of positive personal connections would help Bajor and the Federation mend relations. And that was definitely why neither of them got up as the tables around them emptied, until finally the restaurant closed its window.

“I’d better go,” Kira said. “I have to sleep before I’m due back in Ops.”

They both stood, hesitating. The silence stretched awkwardly now when their conversation had flowed easily for hours.

Keiko felt like she’d been on a date – a really nice date where she’d felt a genuine spark. But this hadn’t really been a date, and a relationship between them wasn’t realistic, not to mention a potentially terrible idea for diplomatic relations if things went badly.

“I think this was a valuable conversation,” Keiko said. “I learned a lot. Thank you.”

“Yes, a valuable conversation,” Kira echoed.

They stood for another moment before finally wishing each other goodnight.

“Maybe we’ll speak again sometime,” Keiko said impulsively.

“Maybe we will,” Kira said with a small smile.

Chapter Text

“So,” said Julian Bashir. “I hear you had a dinner date with the Colonel.”

Keiko gazed at him, unimpressed, over the rim of her mug.

She was at a table in Quark’s after her second day of work which had gone considerably less well than the first. Yndar and Melok had gotten into an argument over taxonomy. Ru had smoothed it over, but it still revealed uncomfortable rifts in their team.

“Hello Julian,” Keiko said as he sat at her table uninvited.

“Hello,” Julian said brightly. “Well? What did you and Kira talk about?”

“Various topics."

“She’s never had dinner with me.”

“Hmm. I wonder why.”

“Ah, I walked into that one, didn’t I?” Julian said, amused. Then, abruptly, “Do you like holographic story programs?”

Keiko didn’t think Julian was trying to flirt anymore, he was just being friendly. A bit obnoxiously friendly, but to be fair, she was the first human he’d seen in a while.

“Depends on the program.”

“Quark has a set of holosuites for rent,” Julian said. “There are several programs I like. You could join me sometime.” Then, at Keiko’s expression, “Not sex programs! I mean, most of Quark’s clientele do use the holosuites for sex, but the Bajorans don’t seem interested in adding more holodecks to the station, so the holosuites are all I have. There isn’t as vast a selection of programs as on a Federation holodeck, but there are some interesting options.”

“I’ll think about it,” Keiko said, taking another sip of her drink.

“Well, you’re welcome to join me any time. We are friends, after all.”

Keiko couldn’t help being amused by Julian.

“Are we? That seems a bit presumptuous given that this is the second time we’ve met.”

“I’m a presumptuous sort of person.”

As their conversation continued, Keiko and Julian ended up talking about their respective fields. It turned out Julian knew a fair amount about Bajoran plants. A Bajoran doctor had been teaching him about traditional medicinal plants.

With some prompting, Keiko told Julian a bit about her past.

“I was offered a position on a Starfleet ship with an arboretum a while back,” she said.

“Which ship?’

“The Enterprise,” Keiko said casually.

She was pleased by Julian’s exclamation of surprise.

“The Enterprise? And you turned it down?”

“It would have been enjoyable work, but I guess it was a bit practical for my research-focused tastes at the time. I regretted turning down the offer afterward. Being on a Starfleet ship would have been my chance for adventure – a once in a lifetime opportunity. But so is the work I’m currently doing, and if I hadn’t turned down the Enterprise, I almost certainly wouldn’t have ended up here.”

Keiko left Quarks late that evening, wishing Julian a good night. She’d be seeing more of him. He was clearly determined to be her friend, and maybe she didn’t mind.

She called her mother again before bed, pleased to see her familiar, wrinkled face, slightly distorted as she leaned too close to the camera.

“Keiko!” she said. “You’re looking well. You’re getting enough sleep?”

“I’m starting to adjust to Bajoran time. How is everything in Kumamoto?”

“Hot,” her mother complained. “I start sweating the moment I step outside.”

Keiko smiled as her mother went on about the weather for several minutes.

“How is your work?” her mother asked.

Keiko told her everything, including her conversations with Julian and Kira.

“Making friends already,” her mother said proudly. “I knew you would.”

The following days were a whirlwind of work and study. Keiko spent hours analyzing plant samples and going through historical ecosystem records. She often spent her free time reading up on Bajoran history and science, wanting to feel less out of her depth conversing with her Bajoran colleagues.

She saw Julian frequently and they would share a conversation over a drink, although she continued to put off his invitations to join him in a holosuite.

Keiko also met several of Kejal’s other residents. She got to know the cook at the Rakantha province restaurant where she’d met Kira. Her name was Prem, and she told Keiko about her nine children.

“None of them,” Prem exclaimed dramatically, “not a one, is interested in cooking traditional hasperat. Here I am, a master of the craft, and not one of my children wishes to learn from me. Still, there are other children. That boy there is a good one. He wishes to follow in my footsteps.”

She gestured to the teenager who often helped her in the kitchen. He gave Keiko a sheepish smile.

On her daily walk around the promenade one morning, Keiko met a Vedek in front of the Bajoran temple.

“Would you listen to the words of the Prophets, Dr. Ishikawa?” the Vedek called.

Startled, Keiko walked over.

“You know my name.”

“I know of the important work you are doing in restoring Bajor’s bountiful lands,” the Vedek said. “The forests and valleys and oceans of our world are the gift the Prophets have given us and their restoration is a sacred duty. You follow the Prophets’ path even though you are not a believer.”

Keiko felt deeply uncomfortable, as she often did when confronted with religion. Belief in any divine entity was never something she’d been able to relate to, but she didn’t want to be rude.

“No, I’m not a believer,” she said. “I thought the Prophets only guided Bajorans.”

“A common misinterpretation of the texts espoused by those who wish to keep Bajoran space free of aliens. Such individuals act out of fear. There is no true difference between a Bajoran, a Klingon, or a human in the Prophets’ eyes. All that matters is what is in one’s Pagh. May I?”

Keiko gritted her teeth as the Vedek took hold of her ear with one hand.

“Your Pagh is strong,” the Vedek finally said, releasing her. “You have had a good and full life, yet you still search for something. Perhaps you will find it here on Kejal. Not in the temple, as I see you are uninterested in the word of the Prophets. But perhaps you will find what you search for on this station nonetheless.”

Keiko left that encounter feeling distinctly disconcerted.

She even briefly met Kejal station’s mysterious Chief of Security – a shapeshifter named Odo the Bajorans had found drifting in space. On her seventh day on the station, Keiko found herself a witness to an attempted theft, and she stayed when security arrived to give a statement.

“You’re the new human,” Odo said after she told him what she’d seen. “I hope your Federation isn’t planning to come back and instigate another war. The last one caused a whole mess of security issues.”

“From what I understand, the Federation isn’t planning to interfere in Bajoran affairs without explicit invitation,” Keiko said. “But I wouldn’t really know. I’m just a scientist.”

“Oh, I know,” Odo said. “I had you and that Romulan closely watched from the moment you came aboard. Just know that if you or your Federation do decide to cause any trouble, I’ll be watching.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Keiko said, amused.

To Keiko’s disappointment, she saw no more of Kira for many days. It made sense, of course. Kira was the most important person on the station, and she didn’t have time for another dinner with an unimportant scientist.

Still, Keiko found herself thinking about Kira embarrassingly often. There had been a real spark between them, and she apparently wasn’t capable of letting it go.

She went to Prem’s restaurant nearly every evening, sitting at the same left corner table she’d sat at with Kira. She often read as she ate.

On the ninth day after her arrival, she was engrossed in a paper about ancient Bajoran farming techniques when someone cleared their throat. Keiko looked up, startled, to find Kira beside her table. Her heart flipped.

“I was going to ask if I could join you, but it looks like you’re working,” Kira said.

“No, no,” Keiko said quickly, setting down her PADD. “I was just doing some recreational reading. Please, join me.”

So Kira sat across from Keiko and they talked about the Bajoran katterpod harvest, and then for a time about Julian who Kira was aware had befriended Keiko.

“I didn’t exactly have much say in the matter,” Keiko said lightly, making it clear she wasn’t bothered.

“Bashir takes some getting used to,” Kira said. “I found him infuriating at first, certain he was right about everything with that smug grin. But in the end, he’s a good man.”

“I’ll tell him you said that. He’ll be thrilled.”

“Don’t you dare,” Kira said, grinning.

“He keeps trying to convince me to play these silly holodeck programs. I don’t have the heart to tell him they sound boring.”

“I don’t like holodeck programs,” Kira said, wrinkling her nose in an unfortunately deeply charming way. “Okala says I have no imagination, which isn’t untrue. The holodeck just doesn’t feel real to me.”

“I know what you mean. No matter how lifelike the holograms are, there’s no way to truly forget you’re wandering in circles in a small room.”

Within a short time, Keiko found herself deeply engrossed in their conversation, the world around them fading until it felt as if there was nothing more in the universe than their table.

“I’ve been busy,” Kira told Keiko. “There’s been problem after problem with the renovations. I’ve been working well past the end of my shift every day – running on only a few hours of sleep. Today was the first day I was actually able to leave Ops at the time I’m supposed to.”

Today was the first day Kira had any free time, and she’d used it to find Keiko.

“You need more rest than that,” Keiko said.

“You sound like my first officer,” Kira said, smiling. “Okala’s always chastising me for working too long. But when you’re in command of a station this big and there are so many moving parts to maintain, even leaving for the night feels dangerous – like a dozen fires will pop up while you’re gone.”

“Sounds like pruning a Tarkalean spine tree.”

“A what?”

“It’s a plant famous among xenobotanists for being notoriously difficult to care for. Everyone learns about it in their first undergraduate class. It grows so fast you can see it in real time. Its limbs need to be pruned before they get to a certain length, or they’ll grow too heavy and damage the tree. But if you prune a branch too early, the tree will wither and die. Because the tree has so many branches, it has to be pruned constantly. The Tarkaleans have groups of people who dedicate their lives to caring for a single tree since no person could do it alone. In the time they slept, the tree would grow too heavy and collapse. This is unacceptable, since to the Tarkaleans, spine trees are sacred.”

“Hearing that would have convinced me not to study botany,” Kira said.

“Maybe it does for some people. I was fascinated. How could such a tree evolve naturally? In fact, spine trees in the wild used to grow and die in a matter of days once every year before the Tarkaleans began caring for them. I always thought the existence of decades-old spine trees demonstrated the incredible tendency of sentient life toward preservation and care and the centrality of community and cooperation. Without groups of people dedicating their lives to these plants, they would last only a brief moment.”

Keiko liked the way Kira unconsciously leaned forward when she was interested in what Keiko was saying.

“It makes a wonderful story,” Kira said thoughtfully. “It reminds me of the ancient tales the Ranjens tell Bajoran children to teach them good morals.”

When Keiko went to bed that night, she had trouble sleeping, pieces of her conversation with Kira echoing in her mind as she tossed and turned.

Keiko returned to Prem’s restaurant every following evening in the hope that Kira would return. And she did. Not every day, but often, arriving at the left corner table and politely asking if she could join her. Hours later, they would go their separate ways, wishing each other goodnight.

“You should go with her,” Prem said abruptly one day as she handed Keiko her hasperat.

“I’m sorry?” Keiko said.

“Colonel Kira,” Prem said. “I don’t know how it is for humans, but I see her looking at you. When you say goodnight, you should go with her.”

Keiko pretended not to understand.

On the eve of Keiko’s team’s first trip to Bajor, Keiko got into an argument with the Romulan Melok. There was a mix-up of plant samples that could have been either of their fault, and the next thing Keiko knew, Melok was hissing at her with barely contained rage.

Ru was there instantly as always, ready to smooth over disagreements. Still, Melok refused to speak to Keiko the entire shuttle ride to Bajor’s surface.

Bajor’s gravity was identical to Kejal’s, but it still felt strange stepping onto the planet’s surface after so long cooped up in the space station. Keiko felt a thrill of euphoria as she and her team left their landing site and hiked out across a wide valley. There were birds soaring overhead and insects crawling in the grass and the world around her was alive. Keiko didn’t mind being in space, but part of her always missed the feeling of being surrounded by the natural world.

Keiko’s team spent six days on Bajor, camping in tents as they hiked through Kendra province. It was an enjoyable and productive trip overall, though the tents were small and uncomfortable. Keiko didn’t sleep much.

Melok continued to refuse to talk to Keiko about anything other than necessary practical matters for the entire week. Keiko tried not to let it bother her.

Keiko returned to Kejal station and slept for thirteen hours straight. She had several days off work after the trip, and she used much of that time to read and explore parts of the station she hadn’t been to yet.

Julian unsuccessfully renewed his efforts to convince Keiko to join him in a holosuite for some adventure program that was “absolutely thrilling”. However, Keiko did, at Julian’s suggestion, try food from Kejal’s new Klingon restaurant.

“I’m not sure about this,” she murmured to Julian, gazing at her gagh. “I’ve eaten real meat, but never when it’s still moving.”

“It’s delicious,” Julian assured her.

Keiko tried it. It had a surprisingly rich flavor, and she finished her whole plate. Julian admitted afterward that he hadn’t expected her to actually finish it.

“You won’t even drink raktajino,” he said.

“That’s because raktajino tastes like coffee.”

“You don’t like coffee, but you’ll eat gagh?”

It wasn’t until a whole day had passed that Keiko finally saw Kira again. She tried not to read too much into her own feeling of elation upon seeing Kira after more than a week, or the smile that lit up Kira’s face when she saw her.

They had a lot to catch up on. Keiko told Kira all about her trip, and Kira told Keiko about the struggles she’d been having dealing with Bajor’s politicians.

“I hate political games,” Kira said. “I’m just not cut out for the way they say one thing while meaning another and expecting you to take away a third entirely different meaning. They told me to negotiate with this Ferengi DaiMon who wanted to trade at our station. They told me to make him feel welcome but also that the resources he was offering weren’t a vital necessity to the Bajoran government. How was I supposed to know that meant the resources were, in fact, a vital necessity and I needed to make the deal no matter what, even if that meant ignoring when he made obscene comments about my first officer rather than ‘insulting his entire family line’, as he claimed? He stormed off the station and the ministers weren’t pleased.”

“It doesn’t sound like you did anything wrong,” Keiko said.

“Try telling the ministers that. They were livid. Luckily Bareil came in right then to tell them the Vedek assembly had voted to stop supporting some initiative of theirs and they forgot about me and my diplomatic failures.”

“Bareil… isn’t he the Kai?”

“He was elected after Opaka was killed in the civil war, may the Prophets guide her. Bareil had nearly unanimous support because of her death.”

The conversation was getting too religious for Keiko’s taste, but she couldn’t help being curious about Kira’s familiar tone when she spoke about Bareil.

“You know the Kai well, then?” she asked.

“You could say that,” Kira said, looking a little embarrassed. “We were lovers.”

Keiko felt a stab of something that was definitely not jealousy.

“Were?”

“It didn’t work out between us. We were meant to walk different paths.”

If Kira was meant to walk a different path from the leader of her religion, Keiko was absolutely not in a position to hope for anything but these friendly dinners with her.

Keiko was reminded forcefully of why it wouldn’t be a good idea to pursue a relationship with Kira several weeks later when a point of tension between them spiraled into an argument. This tension had been there from the beginning, Keiko admitted to herself later, she’d simply chosen to ignore it.

The disagreement came about when Kira mentioned that Bajor was having trouble sourcing dilithium from anyone other than the Ferengi who charged a steep price.

“The Federation would probably agree to give Bajor all the dilithium it needed,” Keiko said without thinking.

Kira frowned.

“Do you really believe that?” she asked.

Keiko hesitated, aware suddenly that this topic was dangerous.

“It’s not exactly a matter of belief,” she finally said. “The Federation is usually willing to provide dilithium to potential allies.”

“A Federation citizen would think of it that way,” Kira said, her tone distant. “I can hardly blame you. You’ve never had any reason to consider what that kind of trade would mean from the other side.”

Keiko elected not to speak, wary of the sudden distance between them.

“The Federation doesn’t provide resources in exchange for nothing,” Kira continued. “They expect a particular kind of relationship in return – a relationship in which the Federation always benefits in the end. Don’t tell me the Federation didn’t initially come here with the goal of eventually assimilating Bajor as yet another one of its member states. All the help that was provided to us was provided with the expectation that we would change to become like you, and to serve your goals.”

“You make it sound as if the Federation is some sort of colonial empire,” Keiko couldn’t help protesting. “Federation members maintain a great deal of autonomy, and it’s entirely their choice to join the Federation.”

“You aren’t wrong,” Kira said, obviously trying valiantly to keep her voice even. “You’re simply seeing things from your own perspective. You assume that joining the Federation is desirable. But we Bajorans value our independence and unique culture. Most of us don’t want to become more like the Federation. And even if the Federation didn’t have the goal of eventually assimilating our culture, relying on their charity would still make Bajor dependent on an outside power.”

There was a long silence. Keiko found herself disconcerted by Kira’s words – not because she didn’t understand where Kira was coming from, but because she knew there would be no simple way to reconcile their two perspectives. Maybe, she thought with unease, some perspectives were simply irreconcilable, even between two people who liked each other.

“I can understand why you advocated against the alliance with the Federation,” Keiko said carefully. “Maybe I even agree it was for the best.”

Kira sighed, clearly unsatisfied.

“Let me ask you this,” she said. “Do you believe Bajor should eventually join the Federation?”

Keiko wished she could change the subject – bring them back to something they could both laugh about. But she needed to face this tension between them and remind herself of the vastly different worlds they inhabited.

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully.

“But you believe being part of the Federation is beneficial for an alien world.”

“Generally, yes.”

“So why not Bajor?”

Keiko thought she understood where this was going.

“Because I don’t know if Bajor’s values fit with the Federation’s.”

“In other words, you think my people aren’t culturally advanced enough to join your enlightened alliance.”

Kira didn’t entirely manage to hide her anger when she said this.

“No,” Keiko said, shutting her eyes for a moment. “That’s not what I meant. It’s not about ‘cultural advancement’. I don’t believe in that sort of thing. Some groups of people just don’t have enough in common, that’s all.”

“But you see my people’s ways as lesser. We put our faith in backwards superstition and reject Federation values of science and rationality.”

“I don’t think Bajoran culture rejects science, and I don’t see it as lesser, just different. Not so different that we can’t get along, but different enough that joining the Federation probably wouldn’t be feasible. That’s basically your position, isn’t it?”

“You’ve phrased your opinions so they sound in line with mine, but I’m not so sure they are. When it comes down to it, do you believe Bajor would be better off if we abandoned our Prophets and became more like your people?”

“I can’t answer that.”

There was genuine disappointment on Kira’s face.

“Federation people can say they value cultural diversity as much as they want,” Kira said softly. “But in the end, all of them that I’ve met, anyway, believe their way is superior, even if they wouldn’t impose it on others. Are you any different?”

Keiko had heard this line of argument before. It was a common idea brought up in children’s philosophy classes. Was it possible to have a system of cultural values that you truly believed in while also believing in the validity of opposing cultural values? But there was a difference between hearing that sort of question posed theoretically in the safety of a classroom and hearing it from the mouth of a person she’d grown to care about.

“I… don’t know,” Keiko said. “My beliefs about the world are important to me – science and rationality and all that. But there’s a lot I don’t know and many people with lives I can’t comprehend, and who am I to say what their reality should be? I can’t promise I’m different from other Federation citizens you’ve met. It’s clear we don’t agree on many issues. But I have no intention of imposing my philosophy on you or anyone else.”

Kira nodded.

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay?”

“What else is there to say? We see the world differently, and we both accept it. That’s all there is.”

Keiko went to Quark’s on her last evening before her research team’s second trip to Bajor. Julian joined Keiko, interrupting Quark’s attempt to convince Keiko to buy a root beer.

“She’s not interested,” Julian said, taking a seat across from Keiko.

“She can speak for herself,” Quark said.

“It’s true, I can,” Keiko said. “And I’m not interested. Not all humans like root beer, Quark.”

“Fine, fine,” Quark grumbled, walking away.

“He’s been trying to get rid of a case of root beer he’s had in storage since Starfleet left,” Julian explained. “Every now and then he tries to get me to buy some. I don’t even mind root beer, I’m just not going to give him the satisfaction of buying any.”

Keiko tried to smile, but her heart wasn’t in it. She hadn’t seen Kira since their argument, and she was starting to believe she might never stop by and have dinner with her again. She told herself it was for the best, but this did little to soothe the ache in her chest.

“You’ve been unhappy for days now,” Julian said. “Not excited for your trip?”

“No. It’s not that.”

When she didn’t elaborate, Julian said dramatically, “Feel no pressure to confide in your friend, even if he is a spectacularly good listener who’s even better at cheering people up.”

Keiko couldn’t help a half smile at that.

“I know,” Julian said. “Why don’t you join me in my holodeck adventure program. That will take your mind off whatever’s bothering you.”

It probably said a lot about Keiko’s mental state that this time, she finally agreed.

Twenty minutes later, she found herself in the passenger’s seat of what Julian informed her was a twenty-first century sports car. They were speeding down a tree-lined road, another vehicle close behind them.

“I don’t get it,” Keiko said. “Why are they chasing us?”

“Because we stole the plans to their secret base,” Julian said patiently. “That’s what we were doing in the warehouse, remember? You’re supposed to be monitoring the map.”

“Oh, right.”

Keiko gazed at the display in front of her which showed a sprawling network of roads dotted with blinking purple lights. They were supposed to find a route toward a building on the other side of the city that avoided those lights.

“We need to get off this road,” Keiko said. “There are approximately twenty purple lights ahead.”

“Enemy agents,” Julian corrected. “Which way do I turn?”

“Um, right. No, wait, left.”

The vehicle spun as Julian yanked it around a turn, making Keiko’s stomach flip. None of their surroundings were real, but the physical forces on her body were.

“Did twenty-first century vehicles really have screens like this?” Keiko asked, tapping experimentally at the screen in front of her.

“This program isn’t meant to be historically accurate.”

There was a popping sound behind them.

“What’s that?”

“They’re shooting at us! We have to lose them!”

Keiko tried not to outwardly sigh. This program seemed so juvenile.

They eventually got back to their base, as Julian called it. They made their way through a narrow tunnel into what appeared to be a cave filled with blinking computers in which ten men wearing masks stood with guns pointed at them.

“I’m guessing we weren’t expecting them to be here,” Keiko said.

“Hands where we can see them, now!” one of the men was shouting.

Keiko sighed out loud this time and raised her hands, mimicking Julian.

“These are enemy agents,” Julian murmured to Keiko. “We’ve got to find a way to escape and take our base back.”

“Oh. Great.”

“Computer, freeze program,” Julian said.

The men with guns froze in place and the whole room was silent.

“You’re not enjoying this, are you?” Julian asked.

“It’s not exactly my kind of story,” Keiko admitted.

“All right,” Julian said, and he plopped down on the floor to sit cross-legged with his back against the door they’d come through.

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting.”

“I can see that.”

“Why don’t you join me?”

“There are holograms pointing weapons at us.”

“Computer, remove enemy agents.”

The men with guns disappeared. Julian patted the ground beside him.

“All right, fine,” Keiko grumbled, sitting beside Julian in the silly cave with its silly blinking computers.

‘Well?” Julian said.

“I’m supposed to tell you what’s bothering me now, aren’t I?”

“Only if you want to.”

Keiko looked at Julian. He seemed so young, with his apparently boundless optimism and his enjoyment of silly holodeck programs. But he was earnest and kind and Keiko was glad she’d met him.

“I’m afraid I’ve pushed someone away who I liked a lot,” Keiko said. “I was really starting to feel we had a connection, and now… now I’m not sure we’re ever going to talk again.”

“You had an argument with Kira,” Julian said.

“I guess it was obvious who I was talking about.”

“A bit, yeah.”

They were quiet for a shockingly long amount of time for Julian who was rarely one to leave silences unfilled.

“I wouldn’t be so sure you’ve seen the last of her,” he finally said. “She likes you a lot.”

“How would you know?”

“Odo told me she talked to you multiple times for hours. She goes out of her way to see you. She doesn’t do that for just anyone.”

“Does Odo always keep tabs on how much time people on the station spend together?”

“Only when they’re the commander of the station and an attractive scientist from a possibly hostile alien civilization.”

“Well, there, you’ve said it. That’s why a relationship with Kira would never work. It’s too politically complicated. Even if I had some reason to believe she was also interested in me, two people being attracted to each other isn’t a strong enough basis for a relationship. Sometimes reality simply gets in the way.”

“Sometimes it does,” Julian agreed.

“Hey. I thought you were supposed to be cheering me up.”

“I will,” Julian said. “I take my mission very seriously. Okay, you know the basics of Bajor’s current political situation in relation to the rest of the galaxy, right?”

“Where’s this going?” Keiko said skeptically.

“Just go along with it. You know about the Cardassian occupation, of course, and how they left the planet with few resources – meaning little ability to rebuild and no ability to defend themselves.”

“I’m cheering up already.”

“Well, that’s when the Federation arrived. The Bajoran provisional government at the time asked them to come, though I believe about half of Bajor’s population at the time opposed Federation presence. The Federation was supposed to help supply Bajor with basic resources to rebuild and protect them from military threats. But the whole situation was extremely unstable since there were so many political factions on Bajor with different opinions on the Federation, so it wasn’t really a shock when war broke out.”

“I’ve heard all of this,” Keiko said. “There were three major factions – those who supported the provisional government and the Federation’s presence, those who opposed any alien presence in Bajoran space, and those in favor of establishing alliances with non-Federation species. The provisional government would have been immediately crushed if Starfleet hadn’t protected them.”

“Which was a mistake,” Julian added. “I told that to Commander Adrian at the time, but he never listened to me. It wasn’t technically a prime directive violation because the Bajoran terrorists had taken Starfleet officers hostage, blah blah blah. Anyway, the provisional government fell in the end regardless of Starfleet, only with a lot more lives lost and a lot more enmity between Starfleet and Bajor than there would have been otherwise. The other two factions allied under a new leader, Li Nalas – he was a resistance hero – and the new government has lasted for going on two years now.”

“Starfleet was kicked off the station, leaving the Bajorans without resources and protection.”

“Exactly. So the Bajorans had to find new allies. That’s what the moderate faction had been arguing for all along. To everyone’s surprise, they made trade deals with several prominent Ferengi for the resources they needed.”

“I’ve never understood that,” Keiko admitted. “The Ferengi are notorious for taking advantage of situations like this to establish extremely unfair terms.”

Julian shrugged.

“I admit I don’t understand all the details,” he said. “But I guess the Bajorans found trading with the Ferengi preferable to trading with the Federation. Anyway, the trade deals with the Ferengi did nothing to protect Bajor on the military front, and there’s always the worry that the Cardassians will come back, so they reached out to the Romulans. Now, the Romulans don’t care about Bajor, but they do care about the Federation and the Cardassians, and Bajor is one of the few planets not allied with either in a strategically useful position in relation to the Cardassian empire.”

“Right,” Keiko said, still baffled as to where this was going. “So the Bajorans speak to ambassadors from both Romulus and the Federation, never agreeing to an alliance with either but maintaining enough of a connection to each that both keep sending delegations, discouraging the Cardassians from returning. Not that they have the energy right now with the Klingons threatening war. Julian, I don’t see how any of this is remotely supposed to cheer me up.”

“Aha, let me explain. Bajor’s current political situation is so complicated that I doubt nearly anyone understands it in its entirety. Yes?”

“I guess so.”

“So if everything is already such a complicated mess, how could your relationship with Kira possibly make things any more complicated than they already are?”

Keiko stared at him for a long moment, then laughed.

“Julian,” she said. “That’s the worst argument I’ve ever heard.”

“Maybe so. But it did cheer you up.”

Chapter Text

Keiko spent the next three weeks on Bajor with her team. The work and the fresh air were welcome distractions from her anxieties about her argument with Kira, and Keiko found herself feeling much better.

The only downside was that Keiko was forced to spend more time in close proximity to Melok whose dislike of Keiko had grown. The Romulan had started making snide comments about the quality of Keiko’s work and trying to embarrass her in front of the Bajorans.

Still, the trip to Bajor worked wonderfully to clear Keiko’s mind. As she returned to the station, she told herself she was over her attraction toward Kira. She would move on with her life and focus on her research.

All these thoughts flew out of her head the instant she arrived at Prem’s restaurant and found Kira sitting at their usual table eating hasperat. Kira hadn’t noticed Keiko’s arrival. She was clearly enjoying her food immensely, closing her eyes for a moment to savor her bite.

Keiko felt an ache in her chest. Oh no. She definitely hadn’t gotten over her attraction to Kira.

She almost turned away, escaping before Kira noticed her. But she couldn’t, not when Kira was sitting at the left corner table. For Kira to have come here the day Keiko returned must be intentional. She wanted to talk.

Keiko approached the table.

“Colonel.”

“Dr. Ishikawa,” Kira said, setting down her food. “Please join me. How was your trip?”

Keiko hesitantly sat across from Kira, the table a great gulf of distance between them. She summarized her trip politely, her words distant even to her own ears.

They chatted for a while about various things. As time passed, the awkward pauses grew less frequent, and Keiko felt herself relaxing.

Eventually, Kira cleared her throat uncomfortably and said, “I wanted to apologize for how… confrontational I think I came across the last time we talked.”

Keiko was surprised.

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said. “I was confrontational too. We were both confrontational. It was a mutual confrontation.”

“An argument.”

“You could call it that.”

“I meant what I said,” Kira said. “But I didn’t mean to push you away or make you uncomfortable. I think the two of us have become… friends. Over these past months, I mean. And I don’t want to compromise that.”

Keiko felt a deep sense of relief at these words, along with a worrying euphoria.

“You didn’t push me away,” she said. “I thought I’d offended you with what I said. I value our friendship too, but I thought I might have inadvertently shown you that the two of us are too different to ever truly connect.”

“You didn’t,” Kira said. “Disagreeing with my friends is something I do all the time. You know Odo? I consider him one of my closest friends, but we disagree about a lot of things. We have… a complicated past. I’ll tell you about it sometime, but for now I’ll say we don’t always see eye to eye. And I accept that. So does he.”

“Then I’d like to remain your friend too,” Keiko said.

“Agreed,” Kira said solemnly.

She held out her hand across the table and Keiko shook it formally as if they were making a pact. They both burst into laughter at the gesture, which suddenly felt completely ridiculous.

“Why don’t you get some food for yourself,” Kira finally suggested as their laughter died.

Keiko went up to order food, then returned a few minutes later to collect it. Prem handed her a hasperat and two turquoise drinks Keiko didn’t recognize.

“I didn’t pay for these,” Keiko said with a frown.

“Free,” Prem said. “For my two most loyal customers.”

Keiko thanked her and returned to the table. Kira raised her eyebrows at the drinks.

“Did Prem give those to you?” she asked.

“She said they were free for her ‘most loyal customers’.”

“Huh,” was all Kira said.

They talked for nearly two hours until the restaurant finally closed. In that time, the distance between them seemed to get smaller and smaller even as they sat at the same table, until Keiko barely remembered their argument.

Their hands brushed against each other once, twice. Accidents, maybe.

“Goodnight,” Kira finally said.

“Goodnight,” Keiko echoed, watching Kira’s retreating back.

Go with her, Prem had said once. Keiko longed to call out, for Kira to turn and look at her again. But she simply watched until Kira disappeared.

Keiko walked slowly to her quarters. Her mind was buzzing and she doubted she’d be able to sleep for a long time. She’d managed to convince herself this morning that she was over Kira – that she didn’t care if she ever saw her again. Now Kira was all she could think about and it felt as if her entire body was electrified. When had she last felt a sensation this intense? Years, maybe.

She slowed her pace further, taking measured steps down the promenade, nearly empty this time of night. She had to calm down. She had to sleep tonight and work tomorrow morning.

She turned toward her quarters, but she only made it a few steps before she stopped and hurried to a computer terminal to look up the location of Kira’s quarters.

This was a bad idea. She told that to herself over and over again as she rode the turbolift. This was a bad idea and she would be making a complete fool of herself. Kira had probably already gone to bed and Keiko would wake her up and it would be horribly awkward, and what was she even planning to say? It wasn’t too late to turn around and go to her own quarters.

She stopped in front of Kira’s door. Her breath was loud in her ears. She was painfully aware of her body – every beat of her heart, the soles of her feet pressing into her shoes.

This was a bad idea.

She reached out and pressed the door chime.

There was a long pause.

“Come in,” said a voice from inside.

The door slid open. Keiko stepped inside, her eyes darting around until they found Kira, getting up from the floor. She’d been sitting before what looked like a shrine with several lit candles. She’d changed out of her uniform and was dressed in a plain shirt and pants that hung loosely, a strip of her stomach and a good amount of her ankles visible. Keiko quickly focused on Kira’s face.

“Dr. Ishikawa,” Kira said.

“I’m sorry,” Keiko said. “I’ve interrupted your…”

“That’s all right,” Kira said, glancing back at the shrine. “I can speak to the Prophets any time.”

“It’s beautiful,” Keiko said, about the shrine, then immediately felt painfully embarrassed.

What was she saying? What was she doing here?

The door slid closed behind her. They looked at each other for a long moment.

“The drinks Prem gave you,” Kira said finally. “They were Moreka berry juice.”

Keiko swallowed.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It’s a drink for celebrating close relationships between two people.”

The room felt too quiet. Keiko’s breath felt too loud.

“What kind of close relationships?”

“Any kind. Family. Friends. Lovers. To drink Moreka berry juice together signifies a mutual commitment to the relationship.”

“Huh. I guess Prem really wants us to be friends.”

“I guess so.”

They were quiet again for a while, simply looking at each other. Keiko wanted to step closer.

“You probably need to sleep,” she said instead. “I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

“You aren’t disturbing me,” Kira said. “And I wasn’t planning on sleeping any time soon. I’m feeling far too awake.”

“So am I,” Keiko said, voice soft.

She took a step forward. Kira stepped forward too. They were close, as close as they were when they sat across from each other at the restaurant, only there was no table between them now.

Keiko reached out her hand.

Kira took it.

“This is probably a bad idea,” Keiko murmured.

“Probably,” Kira agreed.

They leaned forward at the same time and their lips touched.

Later, Keiko and Kira lay side by side in Kira’s bed. There was no clock visible and Keiko had no idea how late it was, but she didn’t care. She felt warm and content.

“This bed isn’t really big enough for two,” Kira said.

“Not really.”

Their bare shoulders were pressed together and Keiko’s other arm was hanging off the side of the bed. She didn’t care about that either.

“Was that… all right?” Kira asked.

Keiko turned her head and was surprised to see Kira wearing her soft, uncertain expression. She hadn’t expected Kira to be insecure about this.

“I think it’s pretty clear I had a good time,” Keiko said.

“So did I. I’ve never… I’ve never been with someone of a different species before. What about you?”

Keiko ran quickly in her mind through the list of people she’d slept with.

“I dated an Andorian in university,” she said. “She was my second partner in university, actually. The first was my roommate, but that’s a long story. And I slept with a Vulcan once. That was interesting.”

“You must have quite a bit of experience,” Kira said, still hesitant. “With… dating.”

“A fair amount.” Keiko frowned. “Does that bother you?”

“Why would it bother me?”

Keiko didn’t know much about Bajoran cultural norms surrounding relationships, other than that they tended to have monogamous marriages and generally were open-minded about casual sex for unmarried people.

“I’ve met some people who like to think of themselves as their partner’s only love,” she said.

“Are we?” Kira asked. “Partners, I mean. In my province, being together like this once doesn’t necessarily mean…”

She trailed off.

“I guess we need to decide that,” Keiko said with a sigh, feeling herself crashing back down to reality.

“We could decide tomorrow. It would probably be a good idea if we both got at least some sleep.”

“I should go back to my quarters, then. We’re not exactly going to get any sleep crammed together in this bed.”

“Probably not.”

Keiko slipped out from under the blanket, grabbing her clothes from where she’d carelessly tossed them earlier.

“I haven’t been with many people,” Kira said behind her. “Before Bareil, there wasn’t anyone serious. Just a few people in the resistance once or twice. We didn’t really have time for committed relationships.”

Keiko felt a pang of sadness at that. It was hard to wrap her mind around how much of Kira’s life had been stolen from her.

“What you said before,” Kira continued, “about some people wanting to see themselves as their partner’s only love…”

“It’s a common human concept. Not all cultures have something similar. I’ve never seen things that way myself.”

“Some Bajorans have a similar belief. I did, for a time. When I met Bareil. I thought he and I were meant to be together forever.”

Keiko turned to look at Kira who lay under the blankets, gazing at the ceiling.

“I was wrong,” Kira continued softly. “We weren’t meant to walk the same path. Now I don’t know what I believe.”

Keiko hesitated. The way Kira spoke sounded adjacent to a religious discussion of fate which Keiko always edged uncomfortably away from. They’d have to figure all of this out, but for now, Keiko’s priority was getting to bed.

“We have a lot to discuss,” she said. “Tomorrow.”

“All right,” Kira agreed. “Prem’s at the usual time?”

“The left corner table. I’ll be there.”

Keiko waited until she and Julian were on their second drink of the night to tell him the news.

They were staying late at Quark’s, neither having work the next day. Keiko had already told Julian about her trip to Bajor, and Julian had spent nearly ten minutes attempting to recall the details of a convoluted story from his academy days.

“How have you been feeling about your argument with Kira?” he asked her finally, using his gentle talking-to-a-patient voice.

“Oh, right,” Keiko said casually. “I’m fine.”

“Well,” Julian said, raising an eyebrow. “You certainly get over heartbreak quickly.”

“Actually, Kira and I are dating now.”

“You’re dating?!?”

Julian’s exclamation was so loud that several people turned to look at them and Quark hurried over.

“So you found out,” he said to Julian.

“Wait a minute,” Julian said. “Did you tell Quark before me?”

“I didn’t tell Quark anything.”

“I found out from Odo,” Quark said. “He came by to harass me earlier, but at least I heard some of the station’s newest gossip.”

“It’s not a secret,” Keiko said. “We decided to make our relationship public. It’s not as if people wouldn’t have found out anyway. Odo has one of his security officers tailing me everywhere.”

“How rude,” Julian said. “I think I finally lost my tail half a year after the Federation left. That man has no sense of trust.”

“Tell me about it,” Quark grumbled.

“Well, maybe he’ll stop surveilling you now that you’re dating the station commander,” Julian said.

“Are you kidding?” Quark said. “He’ll probably have two officers tailing her now.”

The world felt different now that Keiko and Kira were together. All Keiko’s worries about the inadvisability of their relationship drifted away, and she could hardly remember why she’d thought it was a bad idea in the first place.

“That’s just the early stage,” Quark assured her knowingly. “You’ll come crashing back to reality soon enough. Screaming arguments, cold silences… it’s all coming.”

“Shut up, Quark,” Julian said.

Quark may have been an eternal pessimist about relationships, but Keiko had experienced this early-relationship high before with other partners where all she wanted to do was be with them. It always faded. But whether there would be anything left in the afterglow of early passion was a question for later. All Keiko cared about now was the present.

She and Kira spent nearly all their mutual free time together. They often ate dinner at Prem’s and spent even more time in either Kira’s or Keiko’s quarters.

Keiko got to know Kira more deeply – the brush of Kira’s short hair against her fingertips, the sound of Kira’s laugh with Keiko’s head on her chest. They stood before the window in Keiko’s quarters that looked out over Bajor and Keiko had never felt more surely that she was flying through space – untethered and free.

It wasn’t all easy, of course. They were reminded sometimes of the lingering friction between them. There were some topics they avoided discussing. Their relationship was too new and they didn’t want to threaten it.

The excitement of new romance might have distracted some people from their work, but Keiko found a heightened passion for the plants she studied. Her team was attempting to catalogue the detrimental effects that the invasive Cardassian plants had on specific members of the ecosystem, and there were dozens of plants whose growth under different conditions Keiko was studying in one of Kejal’s labs.

Several weeks after Keiko and Kira had started dating, Keiko showed Kira around her lab, describing the importance of each plant to the ecosystem and how the Cardassian invasive species had affected it.

“Barrowweed,” Kira said about one plant before Keiko said anything. “We have them in Dahkur province too. We used to crush the leaves up and make tea when there was nothing else to eat.”

“Their nutritional content isn’t high,” Keiko said. “They’re hard to digest too.”

“You’re telling me,” Kira grumbled. “Still, they’re a hardy plant. They always survive, even when not much else does.”

“That’s why we’re studying them so closely.”

Keiko gazed at the small plant, running her finger carefully over one of its speckled leaves.

“Barrowweed has changed remarkably little over the last million years of evolution,” she told Kira. “I was just reading a pre-occupation paper about some fossilized Barrowweed that dated back 150 million years, and its structure was nearly identical to modern plants. I’ve always been fascinated by species that don’t change much even as the world around them becomes unrecognizable.”

Kira smiled fondly at Keiko.

“You have the soul of an artist,” she said.

Keiko laughed.

“I’m not much of an artist. Just a scientist.”

“My people don’t consider science and art to be so different. They’re both about the detailed exploration of the beauty of the universe and imagining what’s beyond the surface. I’ve always admired and even envied people like you. I’m not good at imagining. All I see here are green leaves and stalks – not any deeper truth beneath. Sometimes I think all I’ll ever be is a soldier.”

Keiko let go of the leaf she’d been holding and turned to look at Kira fully.

“I don’t think that’s true,” she said.

Kira gazed down at the plant herself, mimicking Keiko’s movements as she carefully brushed her fingers against one of its leaves.

“I’m like this plant,” she said. “I’m a survivor, but I can’t change or adapt. I was born fighting, and I don’t really know how to do anything else. I don’t know how to be a leader of a station or negotiate trade routes with other species or play political games with ambassadors. Sometimes I look at myself in the mirror and I have no idea what I’m doing or how I got here.”

Keiko reached out and took Kira’s hand in hers.

“For however much it means,” she said, “I think you’re doing a great job.”

“It means a lot,” Kira said, running her thumb over the back of Keiko’s hand, making her shiver.

“I know this isn’t the same,” Keiko said hesitantly, “but my job here… it involves a lot more politics than I’d like. I told you about Melok.”

Kira’s expression darkened, her grip on Keiko’s hand tightening.

“Is she still bothering you?”

“She’s always bothering me,” Keiko said dryly. “And if she was just another vaguely annoying colleague, I’d barely think about it. But she’s a Romulan and I’m a Federation citizen and I have to think about the political implications of everything I say when all I really want is to be a scientist. Like I said, I know it’s not on the same scale as with your work, but I do understand.”

Kira pulled Keiko into a hug and Keiko stayed in the warmth of her arms for several long moments.

“Thank you,” Kira murmured against Keiko’s hair. “You always know how to make me feel better.”

Keiko realized in that moment that she wanted to stay here in Kira’s arms for a very long time.

The only problem was that her year of work on Bajor would be up in four months, and she’d be getting on a shuttle back to Earth, leaving Kira and all the other friends she’d made on Kejal station behind.

Three months before Keiko was due to leave Kejal station, Kira took her up to Ops and introduced Keiko to the officers she hadn’t met yet.

“This is my girlfriend Keiko,” Kira said proudly.

Keiko thought about that for hours afterward – the genuine pride in Kira’s voice. It was true that Kira and Keiko occasionally got a few dirty looks from passing Bajorans when they walked hand in hand down the promenade, but that only seemed to make Kira hold her head up higher.

“People are getting used to a human on the station,” Kira said. “They’re getting used to seeing you at my side. I think it won’t be long until the Bajoran government invites more Federation scientists to the station and reopens trade with Federation civilian ships. I’ve advocated for it myself.”

“You have?” Keiko said, startled.

She remembered their argument what now felt so long ago about the Federation’s relationship with Bajor. They’d avoided talking about anything related until now.

“I haven’t changed my mind,” Kira said. “I still believe Bajor shouldn’t join the Federation and Starfleet shouldn’t have a permanent presence on our station. But that doesn’t mean we should never have a relationship with the Federation again. In the future, I hope Kejal station will be open to all people from every world.”

Two months before Keiko was due to leave Kejal, she and Kira finally spoke directly about religion, the other topic they avoiding beyond passing references. They were in Kira’s quarters, and Keiko was looking at Kira’s shrine.

“It makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it?” Kira said.

“What does?” Keiko said, though she thought she knew.

“The Prophets. My faith.”

There was no point in pretending otherwise.

“I’ve never felt comfortable around religion,” Keiko said. “It’s hard to explain… I guess, I’ve always known it was a major part of other people’s lives that I could never relate to. I was raised an atheist, and religion was always this world that other people inhabited that was strange and alien to me.”

“Humans have religions,” Kira said. “Lots of religions with different gods. Bashir told me about some of them once, back when Starfleet was still on the station.”

“I didn’t mean alien literally, I meant – oh, I don’t know how to explain it. There’s just something about faith in a thing you can’t observe that I don’t relate to.”

Kira nodded.

“I was raised to believe in the Prophets,” she said. “It’s hard for me to imagine what life would be like without that faith. It saved my life.”

“It’s important to you. I respect that.”

“But you don’t understand it.”

“No.”

Keiko gazed at the unlit candles, trying to imagine what Kira felt when she looked at them and feeling nothing but discomfort.

“It’s okay not to understand,” Kira said. “We’re two people from two different worlds. We can never understand each other entirely.”

“It doesn’t bother you at all?” Keiko said. “That we’re together even though I don’t believe in the Prophets?”

“If you’re asking if I have a religious issue with it, no. If two people are meant to be together, their species or gender or religious beliefs aren’t important. When I was in the resistance, we had to work with all kinds of people with many different beliefs, including some who’d abandoned the Prophets or never followed them in the first place. We couldn’t turn someone away just because we found something about them uncomfortable. If you were for the cause, nothing else mattered. The way I see it, everyone has their path, and the only business of mine is whether our goals align and we can work together. I don’t believe the Prophets see any true difference between a human and a Bajoran or a believer and a non-believer.”

These words brought back a memory Keiko had nearly forgotten.

“A Vedek said something similar to me when I’d just arrived on the station,” Keiko said. “She said that the Prophets didn’t discriminate between species, even if some Bajorans claimed they did.”

“A Vedek? Do you know which one?”

“She didn’t give her name, but she knew mine. She also said… well, she held my ear and said that I was looking for something, and maybe I’d find it here on the station.”

“Do you think she was right?” Kira asked. “Have you found something here you were looking for?”

“I found you,” Keiko said.

But even as she said the words, all she could think was that she was leaving in two months.

A month before Keiko was due to leave the station, she spent the evening in Julian’s quarters, the two of them sharing a bottle of Bajoran springwine.

“I’m going to regret this tomorrow,” Keiko grumbled, pouring herself another glass.

Julian lay sprawled on a couch.

“Do you think wine remembers the plants it was once made of?” he asked dreamily. “Do you think bottles remember the sand they once were?”

“You’re drunk,” Keiko said, downing her own glass.

“You’re not?”

“Almost.”

Keiko sank into a chair across from Julian, throwing her legs up onto its arm.

“Wine doesn’t remember anything because it doesn’t have a brain,” she said.

“That’s assuming memory is only stored in thoughts.”

“Huh.”

Keiko had thought that drinking might make her feel more relaxed and forget the dread that seemed to build inside her every day, but all she felt now was an all-consuming sadness.

“I want to go home,” she said.

Julian flopped his head over to look at her.

“To Earth?”

“Yes. I want to see my parents and smell the ocean. The oceans on Bajor smell different.”

“Well, you’ll be back soon. I’ll miss you though.”

“So will I. I want to go home, but I don’t want to leave here either, not when it means I’ll probably never come back. I want to see you and Kira and Prem and all the other friends I’ve made. I’ll even miss Quark.”

“Okay, now I know you’re really drunk. Did you hit your head too?”

“Ha ha.”

“Okay, bad timing for a joke. Sorry.”

“That’s okay. You’re drunk.”

More silence. Keiko could hear her own heartbeat with her ear pressed against the chair. It was a comforting, ever-present rhythm.

“I miss Earth sometimes,” Julian finally said. “I’ll probably never be able to go back.”

“Because you disobeyed an order and you’d get court martialed?”

“No. I mean, I did do that, but that’s not why I left the Federation. If it was just going against orders, I probably wouldn’t have gotten in much trouble. It was my first offense, and everyone would have agreed it was a lousy order anyway, especially with how things turned out.”

Keiko frowned.

“What really happened?”

Julian didn’t look at her.

“Commander Adrian found out I was genetically augmented as a child,” he said.

Keiko’s mind spun.

“Genetically augmented? In what way? Sorry, is that a rude question? I actually am quite drunk now. Could you not have told me this when we were both sober?”

“No. I couldn’t.”

Julian still wasn’t looking at her. His expression was closed, his normal good cheer absent. He went on to tell her everything – what his parents had done and how he’d hidden it all those years.

“Adrian found out after I’d helped Kira’s faction,” Julian said. “He thought I was a Cardassian agent genetically altered to look human. Anyway, the truth was even worse. My choices were prison or begging for help from the Bajorans. Kira vouched for me. And here I am, but I can never go back.”

The world had spun beneath Keiko’s feet, but she was catching her balance now.

“I’m sorry,” she told Julian. “You did nothing wrong. You don’t deserve any of that.”

Julian laughed dully.

“Did you know?” he said. “No one’s ever told me that before.”

The days passed and Keiko’s dread grew. Soon she would have to say goodbye to the life she’d found here.

Two weeks before Keiko was due to leave, Melok left the station early to catch a Romulan transport. Melok’s contributions to their work were basically finished anyway, so there was no reason for her to stay. Keiko was certainly not going to miss her snide remarks and judgmental gaze.

That evening, Ru Pallra the team lead asked to speak to Keiko alone.

“I understand there’s a shuttle coming for you in fifteen days,” she said.

“That’s right,” Keiko said, trying to keep the sadness out of her voice. “I’ve really enjoyed working with all of you.”

“We’re sad to see you go,” Ru said. “There’s plenty more work here for a talented botanist like you. I thought you should know that Melok spoke to me about you just before she left.”

“She did?” Keiko said, various horrible possibilities flashing through her mind.

“She told me I should ask the government to let you stay another year,” Ru said. “She said your expertise would be valuable in the upcoming Rakantha province survey. The somewhat alarming aspect of that statement was that the Rakantha survey wasn’t publicly announced yet and I have no idea how she found out about it, but I thought you should know that she recommended you.”

Keiko was speechless for several seconds.

“But why would she do that?” she finally said. “She hated me.”

“Did she? I admit, even after working with her for a year, I have no idea what was going on inside her head.”

The Bajoran government formally offered Keiko another year of work the following week. Keiko would have a month to spend back on Earth before she’d return to Kejal station. She stared at the words of the offer until her eyes blurred.

“Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?” Julian asked her later that day when she told him the news.

“Yes,” Keiko said. “I didn’t even think of it as a possibility, but I guess it is exactly what I wanted.”

“Then why aren’t you happy?”

Keiko tried to figure out the answer to that question for the rest of the day. It wasn’t until she finally saw Kira that evening that she started to understand.

“I already heard,” Kira said as she sat down at the left corner table of Prem’s restaurant. “I had to approve the offer myself. Have you decided if you’re going to accept?”

There was a hopeful look in Kira’s eyes. She wanted Keiko to say yes. Shouldn’t that be enough?

“I think I want to,” Keiko said. “I mean, of course I do. I just…”

Kira waited patiently. Keiko felt a swell of affection for her.

“I want to stay,” she continued, “but sometimes wanting isn’t enough, and I need to know that’s not the case now.”

“You need to know if this thing between us is strong enough to last.”

Keiko was relieved to be understood. She nodded.

“I can’t see the future,” Kira said, “but I think that what we feel for each other is real.”

“So do I. But we’re so different in so many ways. It’s like you said before. Sometimes two people are just on different paths.”

“Maybe we are on different paths. Sometimes two paths come together for a time.”

“For a time. But not forever.”

“That’s not something we can know for certain. It’s your choice completely. All I can tell you is that I hope our paths continue to stay together for a long time.”

Keiko hoped for that too. And in the end, it wasn’t only Kira she would be coming back to. There was Julian and Prem and Ru and Quark and the shops on the promenade and this little left corner table.

“All right,” Keiko said. “I’m saying yes.”