Commander Tallin of the Ral’Toren stormed his way around Krim’s office. He was a big man even for a Romulan, and broad-shouldered with heavy facial features and hair cropped ruthlessly short. His attire was dark-colored, in the heavy. Formal style of the civilian Science Institute, but he wore it like a military man who was used to giving orders.

“This is intolerable!” he shouted, turning on his heel again to face Krim.

“In what manner?” Krim asked with deceptive mildness.

“You cannot cut off access to the Wormhole!”

“Oh?” The general let his own anger show through. “And how is it you feel justified in stating that the Bajoran government has no sovereignty over its own territory?”

“The Gamma Quadrant is not your territory! You cannot shut us off from it!” He paused in front of the desk, planting his palms on it, his deep voice almost entreating. “Do you know how unprecedented an opportunity the Kritlorae Nova is?”

“You are not shut off from it. My government has simply suspended traffic of any non-Bajoran ships through the Wormhole, for the time being.”

“For the time being....” Tallin slammed a heavy fist on the desk. The desktop was rattled, the general was not.

“You have the right to file a complaint through your ambassador,” he responded, enunciating each syllable.

“A complaint.... I understand politics and I understand bureaucracy! By the time a complaint gets through channels, the star will have gone nova and its light will be reaching the Alpha Quadrant of its own accord!”

“Nothing is preventing you from taking passage on a Bajoran vessel—“

“Without our equipment? What, you would have us hire one of your ships for the next six months to monitor the nova and its aftermath? With every bit of data, every conclusion, every piece of research, automatically turned over to your government rather than ours? That is untenable! Your people probably don’t even have ships that could handle it!”

Krim was on his feet before the commander had finished. “If our ships are inadequate to your task, then by all means, do not use them. If you believe our crews are nothing but spies who will disrupt your perhaps not-so-innocent research, then it is far better that you stay here. And for now, I have work to do. Please feel free to enjoy the hospitality of the station — but you will not pass the Wormhole while my government has ordered otherwise.”

They glared at each other for a long, tense moment that could easily have turned violent, each of them waiting for the other to make the first move or to back down. Then Commander Tallin whirled and nearly knocked over Kuhlman on his way out of the office.

“Yes, Ensign? What is it?” the general asked in a deliberately controlled tone.

Kuhlman entered carefully, as if he expected something to be thrown at him. The fury in the air was all but palpable. “We have another arrival, the Vulcan science vessel Plom’tel, asking passage through the Wormhole....”

“Which was denied, of course,” Krim replied crisply.

“We told them.... Their captain ... she also wants to speak with you.”

“She is welcome aboard this station. See that my schedule is clear to accommodate her request.” Krim turned his attention back to the PADD he had been studying.

Captain T’Leera beamed aboard directly to Ops while her ship docked. She was an elegant, petite woman, her age indeterminate. Her long dark hair was loosely braided to the left side of her face, and hung nearly to her waist. She wore a dark-blue knee-length open jacket over a close-fitting lighter blue uniform.

“Captain.” Alden greeted her courteously.

She met his gaze with neutral formality. “Commander.”

“General Krim is waiting for you.”

“So I expected.” She began to follow him to the general’s office, then paused when she noted Kaoron at the main situation table. For a second they held each other’s gaze.

“Lieutenant.”

His gaze flicked downward respectfully. “Captain.”

“I trust we may have time to speak later.”

“That is my hope as well.”

As T’Leera entered Krim’s office and the door closed behind her, Alden stepped back down to join Kaoron.

“You know the Captain?”

“We have encountered each other before,” he replied laconically.

Alden leaned on the table, studying the other officer calculatingly, a little smirk on his face.

Krim turned from the window port and studied the Vulcan. “You are Captain T’Leera.”

“Yes, I am.”

“And you are here to object to Bajor having suspended Wormhole traffic for any but Bajoran vessels.”

“I am here to gain knowledge, wherever it is to be found,” she replied, moving gracefully to the chair in front of his desk. “Will you enlighten me, General?”

“My government is currently considering an issue of great importance, regarding our relationship with the Prophets, and access to their Celestial Temple. In the interim, they have ordered that the Wormhole be closed to any but Bajoran traffic.”

“And how long is this suspension to last?”

“Until I am informed otherwise.” He approached his desk.

T’Leera considered. “The third Kritlorae star is anticipated to go nova within two to three weeks. Will your government’s decision be made within that time?”

“I believe it will.”

“What if the decision should be to close the Wormhole?”

“Then it will remain closed,” he said bluntly.

She templed her hands before her chest. “What of vessels already in the Gamma Quadrant? I am aware of several Federation ships, both Starfleet and civilian, on the far side of the Wormhole. Will they be allowed to return?”

Krim was silent for a second. “I have not yet received instructions—“

The door slid open; before either could turn, Commander Tallin barged in, Kuhlman at his heels.

“But—“ the ensign was still objecting, with a vaguely panicked expression.

“Ah-ha, you are meeting with the Vulcan!” Tallin declared, ignoring the human.

“I’m sorry, sir, I tried—“

Krim gestured Kuhlman to silence. He lifted his chin and stared at the Romulan. “You find that ... untenable, as well, Commander?”

“If we are banned from the Wormhole, Federation vessels should also!”

“And so they are,” Krim assured him. “For the time being.”

Tallin’s lips thinned. He turned to T’Leera.

“You’re submitting to this ridiculous situation?”

“I see little choice. The Wormhole is in Bajoran space. We respect their sovereignty here.”

“You’ve never had cause to contest it, since they’ve never denied you passage before! But, Captain, think what they’re refusing us! Think of the opportunity they’re denying us both! Their ships cannot match ours,” he said persuasively, deliberately ignoring the Bajoran. “If we stand together, they will not be able to prevent us passing.”

T’Leera raised an eyebrow. “I do not have sufficient information on your vessel to speak to its ability. However, my ship has defensive capabilities only. But were anyone to attack Bajor, or any of its ships or stations, I believe I would be compelled, by the friendship between the Federation and Bajor, to offer the Plom’tel to assist in its defense,” she replied mildly.

“Even when it means we are denied the scientific opportunity of a lifetime?”

“That would be ... regrettable, but a natural consequence of that decision,” the Vulcan acknowledged.

Tallin glared at her a moment more before sending sent another frustrated look at Krim. Then:

“Bah!” He stalked out in the same manner he had an hour before.

“My apologies for the scene, General,” T’Leera said after a moment. “Tallin is not known for his diplomacy.”

“Nor, I fear, am I,” Krim admitted tightly. “But I do not blame you for his words.”

T’Leera nodded once, then rose. “If you will excuse me, I will return to my ship. I must speak with my government.”

“Of course.” A beat. “Your ship truly has only defensive capabilities? The Gamma Quadrant may not be the safest place for you.”

She glanced back, but it must have been his imagination that he saw a sparkle in her eyes. “At times, defensive capability must be broadly defined.”

“Indeed.”

“I thank you for your concern.” She left.

Krim drummed his fingers on the desk restlessly, his gaze straying to the port, looking very dissatisfied.

“Captain.” Kaoron waited beside the turbolift.

“Lieutenant.” She paused. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to escort me to the docking bay assigned the Plom’tel? I have not been aboard this station before, and am not familiar with its layout.”

“Of course.” He entered the turbolift behind her.

“Perhaps I should—“ Before Alden could reach the lift, it had begun to drop. But he could swear he caught a glimpse of Kaoron and T’Leera facing each other, palms touching.

“Endar?” Dax caught up with him. “I’ve never seen you run across Ops to play the diplomat with station guests before. What is it?”

“There’s something....” he said, pointing at the empty lift tube.

She automatically looked. “He’s a science officer, she’s the captain of a science vessel, they’re both Vulcans, why shouldn’t they want to talk to each other?”

“No,” Alden shook his head. “There’s more to it than that. There’s something between them, I can tell....”

Six people gathered in the small briefing room in the first minister’s chambers — First Minister Shakaar, his security chief Colonel Rig, Defense Minister Jolorn, Commerce Minister Azin, Colonel Kira, and Kasidy Yates.

The briefing was primarily for Kira and Yates’s sakes. The issue was that an apparently growing number of officials felt that not only should Bajor be in charge of the stations on either side of the stable Wormhole, but only Bajoran ships should be allowed be use it. And if other races wanted to use their Wormhole, they must use those ships and pay heavily for the privilege.

“Minister Rozahn appears to be the leader of the coalition in favor of allowing only Bajoran ships to pass through the Wormhole, supported by several of the vedeks, most notably, Vedek Foldan. She’s on the list of candidates for kai, isn’t she?” Kira asked, frowning a little as she considered.

“Yes, although she’s been a very distant fourth, after Carn, Ungtae, and Hatha,” Shakaar confirmed.

“I suppose I’m not surprised at Rozahn’s position in this. She’s the one who convinced the Chamber of Ministers and the Vedek Assembly to deny the Skrreeans a chance to settle on Bajor,” Azin said softly.

“Minister Azin, don’t misunderstand me, but.... You’re the Minister of Commerce — why aren’t you supporting the ban on any non-Bajoran traffic through the Wormhole?” Kira couldn’t help turning and asking. “That could be a tremendous boon to our economy, if we had a monopoly.”

Azin returned her gaze wryly. “It will also be a boon if our neighbors don’t feel a reason to hate us. Having a station here, and another at the other side of the Temple, will give us enough control over what passes through the Wormhole, to protect the Prophets.”

“Access through the Wormhole will be an incentive to our allies for many reasons,” Jolorn added, a little more sanguine about the Prophets’ ability to take care of themselves. “If the Prophets did not wish other beings to pass their gate, they would have stopped them, as they did when the Emissary asked them to keep the Dominion from destroying us.”

Kasidy made a face. “I suppose I’m here to give the imprimatur of the Emissary to this political question, like it or not?”

“That’s my hope,” Shakaar confirmed with his most dazzling smile. “After all, you are human, from the Federation — you presumably have an interest in seeing your people allowed free access to the Gamma Quadrant.”

“Save your charm, Minister, I know your reputation.” She sighed. “I suppose it’s what I have to do. And you’re right, I do think it’s important to the Federation that we have continued access through the Wormhole. Along with the Klingons, the Romulans, the Tholians, and no doubt a dozen other peoples who’ll continue to want it.”

“We’ve already had word from various ambassadors and officials of those worlds, sending out feelers to determine what we’re going to do,” Shakaar replied. “Especially in light of the suspension of traffic through the Wormhole.”

“We would rather not see them feel they had to become involved in Bajoran internal affairs,” Jolorn stated precisely. “We are in a position of strength at the moment, when so many of the other powers are still rebuilding from the war, but if they formed a coalition against us, we might not be able to hold our ground. We have to think about the defense of our colonies as well.”

“The Chamber of Ministers is meeting in two days,” Kira considered. “They’ll hear final arguments and vote that evening. That’s not a lot of time to sway the undecided ministers.”

“Nor is it much time for Rozahn’s coalition to draw them in,” the first minister said.

“Do you really think she could win?” Kasidy wondered.

“She convinced enough ministers to vote to suspend Wormhole traffic pending the final decision, in spite of my specific request otherwise. That means others are seriously considering going along with it,” Shakaar reminded her.

Rig’s combadge chirped, barely audible to the others.

“Excuse me....” She rose and stepped out to take the incoming communique.

“So who do you want us to approach first?” Kira asked, resignation in her voice.

“Actually, for these few days, I just want you to be seen, about the city,” Shakaar assured her.

“I can do that.”

“I want people to remember you. You and Kasidy should be seen together — you’ll reinforce each other’s connection with the Emissary.”

Kira laughed a little, holding up her hands and smiling at Kasidy. “All right, I can do that too! Can you?”

The other woman laughed with her. “I think I can manage!”

“And when the ministers meet, I would like you to speak.”

“Now wait a minute....” Kira protested.

Shakaar hastily turned to Kasidy. “I think we can convince enough of the ministers to vote our way. But we also need a respected vedek to speak up in the Assembly. Vedek Hatha is one of the leading candidates for kai. Do you know his feelings on the matter? Would he be willing to support us publicly on this issue?”

“I think,” she answered wryly, “that if I asked him to, he’d speak about—“

Rig stepped back into the room. Shakaar glanced her way, then looked again, holding up his hand to stop Kasidy.

“What happened?” he asked tensely.

“We have visitors coming. Federation Ambassador S’ren, and Starfleet Admiral Nechayev.”

The others looked at each other, a little stunned.

“Admiral Nechayev, and an ambassador,” Kira finally ventured. “I guess this means Starfleet is taking us seriously.”

Word reached her almost as soon as it reached the first minister. The vedek was near the end of her daily candle ritual when the young novice monk rushed in.

“A Federation ambassador is arriving ... and a Starfleet admiral is coming with him,” he said breathlessly.

She paused, the candle snuffer arrested between one lit taper and the smoldering wick of the previous. For a second her lips thinned.

“How soon?” she asked with deceptive calm.

“Within a day, Vedek....”

“Thank you, Coyurt. You may go.”

“Yes, Vedek.” He bowed deeply and all but backed his way out.

“Iscalla, you heard?” she asked a moment later.

“Yes, Excellence.” A figure appeared from behind the tapestry.

“You know what must be done.”

“It is the will of the Prophets.”

The figure vanished again. The vedek finished snuffing the candles, all twenty-seven of them, one for each member of the cell who had perished fighting the Cardassians or the collaborators who had supported them. The room was left dark except for the single light that glowed at the shrine. She moved to stand before the mandala, hands raised in supplication.

“Hear us, Prophets, we who hear your call and carry out your will, for the good of Bajor....”