Wrung, Part 4
Crossposted to do_me_odo
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
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NEW DS9 O/K [WIP - not yet rated] [4/?]
Wrung
by Cestsimal
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The rest of the day is a blur. I'm sure I made it to whatever meetings I was supposed to have, as T'Nil didn't have to come fetch me or even arch her eyebrows at me, but only the Prophets know what I said or what was decided. I stare at the console on my desk, watching the display dissolve into a blur of meaningless colors and patterns, and I wonder if I'm supposed to be understanding them.
The duty officer brings in some PADDs, wanting my approval for who knows what. I automatically thumbprint everything, vaguely hoping I haven't just authorized selling the runabouts as excursion vehicles, having the Promenade painted chartreuse, or giving Quark an exclusive concession to sell hallucinogenics in the Temple, during services.
Probably not.
Although it might liven services up, a bit.
I go back to contemplating the pulsing colors on the screen. There must be some meaning to them. Red and green and blue...there are words, too...at least, I'm fairly sure they're words. I should be able to read them, if they're real words...
"Colonel?" Dinnahva Tosha, the duty officer, sounds concerned.
"Yes, Lieutenant?"
"Um, it's 2250, Colonel...aren't you...ah...would you like something from the replicator?"
"Hm? Oh. No, thank you, Lieutenant." She leaves and I shake myself, trying to get some sense of reality back. It must be the lack of sleep and too much raktajino. I try to remember if I've eaten anything today, but it's all a blur. Damned synthahol!
Finally I can't delay any longer. If I'm going to meet a delegation from the Dominion at 0900, I'm going to have to make at least a token attempt to sleep. At a bare minimum, I'll want a sonic shower and a fresh uniform in the morning, which means I have to go back to my quarters.
-*-*-*-*-
The Promenade is relatively quiet as I head back to my quarters. Most of the shops are closed by this hour, but even Quark's and the other few that stay open late seem rather subdued. Not surprising, really. In the grand scheme of things, it's been a quiet day. No celebrations or crises, no invasion of drunken Andorian Templars with their silly little hats - like we had last month. It's an ordinary day, and people have finished their ordinary jobs and gone home to their ordinary suppers and ordinary beds.
Just like I'm heading home to mine. My ordinary, empty bed.
Oh, get a grip, Nerys! Wallowing in your misery won't make it any better. Get home, get to bed, get some sleep. And in the morning, get up and meet with the Dominion's smug Vorta of a representative and tell him he can take his trade agreements and stuff them, crosswise!
I feel better.
As I make my way home and get ready for bed, I carefully plan out exactly what I'm going to say to the Dominion's envoy, on every subject from new trade agreements to personally-conducted tours of the Fire Caves for the Founders, complete with Charmingly Authentic Native Bajoran Dancers.
I'm still working out how much to charge them for each Ancient Bajoran Fire Dance lesson, when I fall asleep.
-*-*-*-*-
I refuse to be flustered about this meeting. It's true I got up half an hour before my alarm sounded, and I've been wavering between my service-dress and full-dress uniforms for an hour now, but I'm not flustered. I'm just a touch indecisive.
I had a piece of tekka bread with my raktajino, in hopes of keeping my stomach acid under control, and I only had the usual two raktajinos, rather than the four I want.
The service-dress will have to do. It's not an formal event; the Dominion hasn't asked to present ambassador's credentials; they're just sending an envoy to meet with me, specifically. So, service-dress. Right.
But the full-dress is more...
No, dammit. And your hair is fine the way it is. Just put the damned uniform on, quit wavering around like a girl with her first phaser, and get to Ops!
I'm not happy about it, but I go, anyway. T'Nil has the morning reports, as always. The Dominion envoy's arrival is right there at 0900, between the Security briefing at 0830 and the weekly comm report to the Ministry at 1400.
I give T'Nil a sharp look; she's just staring blandly at me. Vulcans! Keeva cream wouldn't melt in her mouth, but she's given me a five hour slot to deal with the Dominion meeting and its aftermath. Well, and lunch, presumably.
I steal one of her tricks and raise an eyebrow. "Light schedule. You have everything else covered, then?"
She doesn't even blink. "Certainly, Colonel. Here are the security arrangements." She hands me another PADD as her commbadge chirps.
"Commander T'Nil, vessel emerging from the wormhole."
"Acknowledged." T'Nil's expression never changes. "A summary report for the Ministry, Colonel," she says, handing me yet another PADD.
My pulse is racing, but I take a long, slow breath and scan through the security arrangements and the report for the Ministry. There's no mention of the meeting with the Dominion envoy in it. I decide not to mention the ommission to T'Nil. She'd be perfectly within bounds to note that as the meeting has not yet occurred, she was unable to summarize it for inclusion in the report.
Personally, I think the longer I can keep the Ministry in blissful ignorance, the better for all of us.
"Commander T'Nil," the comm says again, "Dominion ship...ah, 42A97, requests permission to dock; the Dominion envoy requests a meeting with Colonel Kira at her convenience."
"Acknowledged. Direct the 42A97 to high security dock, Upper Pylon 3." With a brief glance at me, she adds, "Colonel Kira will meet the Dominion envoy at the docking ring."
Well, now I'm committed. I'm meeting...the Dominion envoy in less than half an hour. I resist the impulse to straighten my tunic, smooth my hair, or crumple up into a ball and hide under my desk.
It looks cosy, under the desk.
I go back to reading the security arrangements. T'Nil's done her usual efficient job, and Rendas would sooner cut his own throat than slip up on this particular security detail, so I'm sure everything's been taken into consideration. Still, I have to ask at least one salient question, so they'll know I'm paying attention.
"Rendas has assigned his own people to VIP quarters guard detail?"
T'Nil gives me a grave nod.
"Good. It's more tactful than using Starfleet personnel. Be sure all security personnel are debriefed and are very, very clear on their duties. The last thing we need is some sort of 'incident' with the Dominion."
"Certainly, Colonel."
Her comm badge chirps again. "Commander T'Nil, Dominion Ship 42A97 is now docking."
"Acknowledged." She quirks her eyebrow at me and glances toward the door.
Well, the time has come.
We make our way to the turbolift and are met at the docking ring by Rendas and an obviously hand-picked team of deputies, each one not less than two meters tall and nearly a meter across the shoulders. I give him a quick wink, and smile as he tries not to blush.
We line up in front of the airlock and wait for it to cycle.
I'm not holding my breath. I'm not. I'm not. Okay, I really should take a breath here, before I get dizzy.
Breathe.
There are dark shadows at the far end of the airlock. One door cycles and they come closer. The huge round door before us rolls away, and I'm staring at a pair of rather subdued-looking Jem'Hadar.
They step out into the station, survey us carefully with that unnerving, cold gaze they have, and then one turns back toward the airlock and says, "Area secure, First."
There's more movement at the far end of the airlock. Another Jem'Hadar comes through, with someone behind him, shielded from our view by the bulk of the reptilian guard.
"I am First Tenakkatan. By the order of the Founders, I have brought their envoy to meet Colonel Kira Nerys." His pale eyes settle on me as the most likely holder of that title.
"I am Colonel Kira Nerys," I reply formally, "And I welcome the Dominion envoy to Deep Space Nine."
The First looks as though he would like to growl at me, but he merely steps aside to let the envoy through.
"Colonel Kira, on behalf of the Founders, I bring you greetings from the Dominion."
I nearly faint. Oh, Prophets! Must stay on my feet. Must not black out. Not here, not now, and especially not in front of...him.
I feel a firm but slender finger prod me in an odd way, somewhere in the middle of my back. My vision clears and my knees seem to have stabilized.
"Ambassador Weyoun, I presume?" I say, with all the firmness and clarity of a half-strangled razor cat.
[end of part 4]
[Why yes, I am evil, thank you! *g*]
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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
NEW DS9 O/K [WIP - not yet rated] [4/?]
Wrung
by Cestsimal
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The rest of the day is a blur. I'm sure I made it to whatever meetings I was supposed to have, as T'Nil didn't have to come fetch me or even arch her eyebrows at me, but only the Prophets know what I said or what was decided. I stare at the console on my desk, watching the display dissolve into a blur of meaningless colors and patterns, and I wonder if I'm supposed to be understanding them.
The duty officer brings in some PADDs, wanting my approval for who knows what. I automatically thumbprint everything, vaguely hoping I haven't just authorized selling the runabouts as excursion vehicles, having the Promenade painted chartreuse, or giving Quark an exclusive concession to sell hallucinogenics in the Temple, during services.
Probably not.
Although it might liven services up, a bit.
I go back to contemplating the pulsing colors on the screen. There must be some meaning to them. Red and green and blue...there are words, too...at least, I'm fairly sure they're words. I should be able to read them, if they're real words...
"Colonel?" Dinnahva Tosha, the duty officer, sounds concerned.
"Yes, Lieutenant?"
"Um, it's 2250, Colonel...aren't you...ah...would you like something from the replicator?"
"Hm? Oh. No, thank you, Lieutenant." She leaves and I shake myself, trying to get some sense of reality back. It must be the lack of sleep and too much raktajino. I try to remember if I've eaten anything today, but it's all a blur. Damned synthahol!
Finally I can't delay any longer. If I'm going to meet a delegation from the Dominion at 0900, I'm going to have to make at least a token attempt to sleep. At a bare minimum, I'll want a sonic shower and a fresh uniform in the morning, which means I have to go back to my quarters.
-*-*-*-*-
The Promenade is relatively quiet as I head back to my quarters. Most of the shops are closed by this hour, but even Quark's and the other few that stay open late seem rather subdued. Not surprising, really. In the grand scheme of things, it's been a quiet day. No celebrations or crises, no invasion of drunken Andorian Templars with their silly little hats - like we had last month. It's an ordinary day, and people have finished their ordinary jobs and gone home to their ordinary suppers and ordinary beds.
Just like I'm heading home to mine. My ordinary, empty bed.
Oh, get a grip, Nerys! Wallowing in your misery won't make it any better. Get home, get to bed, get some sleep. And in the morning, get up and meet with the Dominion's smug Vorta of a representative and tell him he can take his trade agreements and stuff them, crosswise!
I feel better.
As I make my way home and get ready for bed, I carefully plan out exactly what I'm going to say to the Dominion's envoy, on every subject from new trade agreements to personally-conducted tours of the Fire Caves for the Founders, complete with Charmingly Authentic Native Bajoran Dancers.
I'm still working out how much to charge them for each Ancient Bajoran Fire Dance lesson, when I fall asleep.
-*-*-*-*-
I refuse to be flustered about this meeting. It's true I got up half an hour before my alarm sounded, and I've been wavering between my service-dress and full-dress uniforms for an hour now, but I'm not flustered. I'm just a touch indecisive.
I had a piece of tekka bread with my raktajino, in hopes of keeping my stomach acid under control, and I only had the usual two raktajinos, rather than the four I want.
The service-dress will have to do. It's not an formal event; the Dominion hasn't asked to present ambassador's credentials; they're just sending an envoy to meet with me, specifically. So, service-dress. Right.
But the full-dress is more...
No, dammit. And your hair is fine the way it is. Just put the damned uniform on, quit wavering around like a girl with her first phaser, and get to Ops!
I'm not happy about it, but I go, anyway. T'Nil has the morning reports, as always. The Dominion envoy's arrival is right there at 0900, between the Security briefing at 0830 and the weekly comm report to the Ministry at 1400.
I give T'Nil a sharp look; she's just staring blandly at me. Vulcans! Keeva cream wouldn't melt in her mouth, but she's given me a five hour slot to deal with the Dominion meeting and its aftermath. Well, and lunch, presumably.
I steal one of her tricks and raise an eyebrow. "Light schedule. You have everything else covered, then?"
She doesn't even blink. "Certainly, Colonel. Here are the security arrangements." She hands me another PADD as her commbadge chirps.
"Commander T'Nil, vessel emerging from the wormhole."
"Acknowledged." T'Nil's expression never changes. "A summary report for the Ministry, Colonel," she says, handing me yet another PADD.
My pulse is racing, but I take a long, slow breath and scan through the security arrangements and the report for the Ministry. There's no mention of the meeting with the Dominion envoy in it. I decide not to mention the ommission to T'Nil. She'd be perfectly within bounds to note that as the meeting has not yet occurred, she was unable to summarize it for inclusion in the report.
Personally, I think the longer I can keep the Ministry in blissful ignorance, the better for all of us.
"Commander T'Nil," the comm says again, "Dominion ship...ah, 42A97, requests permission to dock; the Dominion envoy requests a meeting with Colonel Kira at her convenience."
"Acknowledged. Direct the 42A97 to high security dock, Upper Pylon 3." With a brief glance at me, she adds, "Colonel Kira will meet the Dominion envoy at the docking ring."
Well, now I'm committed. I'm meeting...the Dominion envoy in less than half an hour. I resist the impulse to straighten my tunic, smooth my hair, or crumple up into a ball and hide under my desk.
It looks cosy, under the desk.
I go back to reading the security arrangements. T'Nil's done her usual efficient job, and Rendas would sooner cut his own throat than slip up on this particular security detail, so I'm sure everything's been taken into consideration. Still, I have to ask at least one salient question, so they'll know I'm paying attention.
"Rendas has assigned his own people to VIP quarters guard detail?"
T'Nil gives me a grave nod.
"Good. It's more tactful than using Starfleet personnel. Be sure all security personnel are debriefed and are very, very clear on their duties. The last thing we need is some sort of 'incident' with the Dominion."
"Certainly, Colonel."
Her comm badge chirps again. "Commander T'Nil, Dominion Ship 42A97 is now docking."
"Acknowledged." She quirks her eyebrow at me and glances toward the door.
Well, the time has come.
We make our way to the turbolift and are met at the docking ring by Rendas and an obviously hand-picked team of deputies, each one not less than two meters tall and nearly a meter across the shoulders. I give him a quick wink, and smile as he tries not to blush.
We line up in front of the airlock and wait for it to cycle.
I'm not holding my breath. I'm not. I'm not. Okay, I really should take a breath here, before I get dizzy.
Breathe.
There are dark shadows at the far end of the airlock. One door cycles and they come closer. The huge round door before us rolls away, and I'm staring at a pair of rather subdued-looking Jem'Hadar.
They step out into the station, survey us carefully with that unnerving, cold gaze they have, and then one turns back toward the airlock and says, "Area secure, First."
There's more movement at the far end of the airlock. Another Jem'Hadar comes through, with someone behind him, shielded from our view by the bulk of the reptilian guard.
"I am First Tenakkatan. By the order of the Founders, I have brought their envoy to meet Colonel Kira Nerys." His pale eyes settle on me as the most likely holder of that title.
"I am Colonel Kira Nerys," I reply formally, "And I welcome the Dominion envoy to Deep Space Nine."
The First looks as though he would like to growl at me, but he merely steps aside to let the envoy through.
"Colonel Kira, on behalf of the Founders, I bring you greetings from the Dominion."
I nearly faint. Oh, Prophets! Must stay on my feet. Must not black out. Not here, not now, and especially not in front of...him.
I feel a firm but slender finger prod me in an odd way, somewhere in the middle of my back. My vision clears and my knees seem to have stabilized.
"Ambassador Weyoun, I presume?" I say, with all the firmness and clarity of a half-strangled razor cat.
[end of part 4]
[Why yes, I am evil, thank you! *g*]
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