Chapter Text
The upper docking pylon ran cold this far out from the habitat ring, and the air carried the faint ozone bite of the airlock's pressure seal still equalizing, a smell like a storm that hadn't arrived. Beyond the viewport the Threnody of Reason hung against the stars, all clean curves and no visible seams, lit from within so evenly it looked less docked than displayed.
Miles stood with his hands behind his back and his weight on his heels, glaring at it.
MILES: Look at that. No external conduit runs. No service hatches you can find from outside. You know what that tells you? Somebody decided panels were ugly.
EZRI: It's a nice ship.
MILES: It's a ship that thinks it's better than my ship.
Ezri pressed two fingers to her mouth, not quite hiding a smile. Kira didn't turn from the viewport.
KIRA: Commander.
MILES: I'm only saying what the readings say. Their integration figures came in last night. I read them twice.
KIRA: And?
MILES: And they're showing me numbers I'd be proud of, on hardware they're describing like it's a kettle. Six days of beta access and they hand the report back like they're returning a borrowed cup. "Thank you, it performed adequately." Adequately.
He shifted his weight forward onto his toes and back again. Reeve, beside him, watched the Threnody with his hands clasped and said nothing.
REEVE: They submitted forty minutes early.
MILES: See, that's… that's the thing. Who submits early? Nobody who's sweated over it submits early.
REEVE: Mm.
KIRA: They're applying to join the Federation. Early and polite is what an application looks like.
She finally turned. The pylon light caught the edge of her uniform, the provisional Starfleet pip on her collar.
KIRA: I don't care how good their ship is or how pleased they are with themselves. They get the same welcome anyone gets. Professional, warm, and we don't let them see us counting the silver.
MILES: I wasn't going to…
KIRA: You were going to stand here with that face on.
Miles made a sound low in his chest. Ezri's shoulders moved with a laugh she kept quiet.
The corner of Kira's mouth lifted, briefly. She came off the viewport and stood square to the airlock. She settled her shoulders, found the spot to plant her feet.
KIRA: Dax. Before they're through that door. You spent the briefing watching the delegation footage instead of reading the specs, don't tell me you didn't.
EZRI: I read the specs too.
KIRA: Your take. On them.
Ezri didn't answer right away. She looked at the Threnody, at its lit, seamless hull, and the amusement went out of her face, slowly.
EZRI: They're not nervous.
MILES: Nobody's nervous applying to…
EZRI: No. Everyone's a little nervous. You want something from a room, some part of you reads the room. It's automatic, you can't help it, it's the oldest thing we do.
She tipped her head toward the viewport.
EZRI: They're not reading us. They came in early because the deadline was a fact and facts get met. They'll be perfectly kind to all of us, and none of that kindness will be checking anything, because…
A small pause. Her hand half-rose toward the glass and didn't land.
EZRI: Because as far as they're concerned, the question of whether we approve of them was settled before they left home. We're a formality they're being gracious about. That's not arrogance the way Miles means it. He means strut. This is quieter. They're secure.
REEVE: Secure people are easy to work with.
EZRI: Secure people are easy to work with right up until you tell them something they're sure can't be true. Then…
She didn't finish it. She let her hand fall back to her side.
MILES: Then what?
EZRI: I don't know yet. I've watched four minutes of footage. Ask me in a week.
Kira was quiet a moment, looking at the side of Ezri's face.
KIRA: Right. Everyone keep that to yourselves.
The airlock indicator cycled amber. The pressure seal hissed off its last increment and the ozone smell sharpened, then thinned. Miles came down off his heels and squared up. Reeve unclasped his hands. Kira drew one slow breath, and her face smoothed.
The door split.
They came through in a loose, easy cluster with no formation to it, five of them, unhurried, looking about the pylon with mild, pleased interest. The one in front was tall, fair, with eyes a startling pale blue-green that caught the pylon light and held it, and a smile already arriving, warm and complete and entirely unworried, before anyone had said a word.
CALEVIAN: Colonel Kira. What a handsome station.