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Jeralla

Interconnected

This is a joint log with Sorehl, with my parts in color, following the end of the conference during the last Aegis sim.

Jeralla beamed inwardly, pleased at the turn of events. It looked like the Ferengi blockade was over without bloodshed. She knew she had played a part.

 

She hadn't known why her adoptive father had summoned her back to the Alpha Quadrant from Camelot, but he reminded her of a promise he'd exacted years earlier, so she'd come. On her way to Canar II, she'd heard about the crisis at Cardassia Prime. Although she had been born there, it hadn't been home for most of her life.

 

Canar II was home. When she got there, her father told her things were about to boil over at Sky Harbor. D'Mysus Ramson retained a healthy interest in all things associated with the name Aegis. Other familiar faces had already gathered there. Sorehl had met with Ambassador Drankum in on Starbase 405, but admitted he had learned nothing. Ambassador T'Salik was urging him to seek another audience at Aegis, although it was under Ferengi blockade.

 

It was her dual citizenship that had offered the means. After her birth-father's death during the brief Klingon invasion of Cardassian space, she had been secreted across the De-Militarized Zone to her godfather on Canar. After his marriage to Saraina, D'Mysus had formally adopted her, making her a Federation citizen. She had worked with the diplomatic service after the war, rising to the rank of junior envoy, but never lost her status as a Cardassian subject. It gave her connections to ask permission to try again on behalf of the Cardassian government.

 

The Foreign Ministry, afraid of another battle over Prime, had agreed to letting Sorehl try since he was a decorated "Champion of Cardassia" in the Order of Damar. The Castellan had insisted on economic specialists to strength ties with the Ferengi. He had also sent a prominent leader of the Oralian religious sect, whose occupation was listed as gardener, probably to belie his former association with the Obsidian Order. They were milling near Kith Ghemor, at the moment.

 

Successful in avoiding the immediate conflict, the diplomatic meeting was ending. Sorehl folded the Cardassian aesthetic robe over one arm as he tried to quietly leave the gathering. His arrival had been in secret, and he had expressed a desire to leave the station likewise. He looked toward her and approached.

 

She felt her heart swell, seeing at the unassuming Vulcan. Kallah had asked her if she'd ever outgrown her teenage crush on the captain. Up till now, she was sure she had. As he walked toward her, she felt a flush in her neck ridges. She knew he would continue to downplay the impact of his contact with Drankum, but Sorehl had used the emotional impact of his personal friendship with the Ferengi to help him see reason.

 

He walked toward the young Cardassian woman, carrying the borrowed robe and conscious of her gaze on him. He maintained his equanimity. She had no reason to know how, years earlier on Aegis, the results of a Greek god's influence made such attention discomforting. Nor would she ever, he reaffirmed. It was an unfulfilled quest of his to relocate the being and remove that particular burden. But one pursuit at a time.

 

He bowed to her slightly, offering the robe. "It would seem our peaceful aims have been achieved," he surmised.

 

She smiled back at him pleasantly, taking the outer garment. "Whatever you said, it worked. And you say you're not a diplomat."

 

His tone was self-depreciating, "This was not a maverick negotiation. The value in my presence was that it was trust, not diplomacy, that Drankum needed in order to share his government's real motivations." He looked to the UFP representative. "And I suspect the apology extended by Envoy Delain will build further trust."

 

Jeralla smoothed the harsh fabric of the robe on her arm. "Maverick or not," she cautioned, "you may see some criticism that we didn't exactly make this a team play, even if the results were satisfactory."

 

Sorehl straightened, as if invoking a quote, "It is a small thing to suffer insult or debasement in the cause of peace."

 

Jeralla had heard Ambassador T'Salik offer similar sentiment and wondered if it were a Vulcan adage. She knew it was an adage he'd lived. "The courier shuttle is still docked," she explained. "I'm sure we can arrange transport back to Canar or Bajor." She knew he planned to catch up with his wife, who was on her way back to Camelot Station in the Gamma Quadrant.

 

"Many thanks, but I intend to seek another means of conveyance," he explained, glancing in the direction of the Klingon ambassador, who was also leaving. He raised his hand in the Vulcan salute, bowed slightly, and set off after Governor K'Vorlag.

 

Jeralla watched him recede from sight.

 

"Well, you've made quite an impact, young lady," came the pleasant voice of one of her fellow Cardassians, now walking toward her. His smile seemed genuine. "You saved the day. Local girl makes good."

 

She searched for the words to deflect his complement, but he continued. "Oh, don't bother to deny it," the gardener insisted with slow, careful diction, "I'm an excellent judge of character."

 

"I only brought the players together," she countered.

 

"Perhaps. But the illusion is much more fascinating," he observed. "I find the truth is a usually just an excuse for lack of imagination." He looked at her as if recognizing someone else.

 

"Your words to convince the Castellan were just as important," she paused, wondering what title was appropriate for a member of the Orallian religious order. She realized she was still holding the robe. "Oh, Sorehl returned this," she explained, offering it back to him.

 

His smile continued as he accepted it. "I'm glad to be of service." He rubbed the material between thumb and forefinger. "It's a rather harsh fabric, dull color – but then, I doubt Vulcans spend much time in front of the mirror picking among their robes."

 

"I admit I was surprised to see you take an interest in this negotiation," Jeralla confessed.

"My dear," he answered in silken tones, "Cardassia's best interests are served if this station moves on. Deserved or not, Aegis reminds us of our losses, just as Terok Nor reminded Bajor of the occupation. Placed elsewhere, they can serve new purposes."

 

"No," she corrected, "I meant I was surprised that you would promote a private audience with the Ferengi so actively."

 

He looked thoughtful. "I've learned not to underestimate Ferengi motives. As for you and your Vulcan friend," he paused, "even a plain, simple gardener can appreciate the work of unsung heroes." From under the robe, he produced a single colorful flower and rested it in her hands. His pleasant smile still evident, he bowed slightly and withdrew, leaving the conference room behind.

 

Jeralla recognized the rare Edosian orchid. Turning it over in her hand, she mused on how the universe had strange ways of connecting things together.

Edited by Jeralla

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Jeralla recognized the rare Edosian orchid. Turning it over in her hand, she mused on how the universe had strange ways of connecting things together.

For those interested, the Edosian orchid is a connecting thread in my earlier log Scene of the Crime (February 2005) and picked up by Sorehl in Lessons and Mysteries earlier this year.

Edited by Jeralla

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