The Art of the Impossible

“All right, fine, don’t tell me. I suppose it’s probably safer this way. In any case, I’m also grateful to you for seeking me out on Risa two years ago. I have to admit, I let the entire Raknal V situation get away from me. I should have been keeping a closer eye on things. Hell, I should never have proposed that solution in the first place.”

“Not that I don’t agree—” Vaughn started.

Dax gri

“—but why do you say that?”

“I thought I understood how to make both sides talk to each other, but I couldn’t have misjudged the Cardassians more if I tried. Klingons thrive on that sort of competition, but the Cardassians think it’s their destiny to overrun the galaxy. I’m not even sure they have a conceptof competition. They just prefer to run roughshod over everything. As for the Klingons…” He smiled. “If I’ve learned nothing else over the years, it’s that the only people who can deal with Klingons are Klingons.”

“That’s very profound, Ambassador,” Vaughn said, almost meaning it.

“Excuse me, Lieutenant Commander Vaughn?”

Vaughn turned at the new voice, which belonged to a young woman with dark black eyes. “Yes?”

“Your transport is ready.”

Dax gave a small bow. “I assume this is your personal business. I will leave you to it. Safe journeys, Commander. Perhaps we’ll meet again some day.”

I sincerely hope not,Vaughn thought. Not quite impolitic enough to say that, but not trustful enough of himself to say anything else, Vaughn simply returned the bow, then followed the Betazoid woman to the transport.

Lwaxana had said she would meet him there. Dea

Leaving the reception behind, Elias Vaughn got into the transport that would take him to the grave of Ian Troi.

Epilogue

Giv’n to the

Strong

A World in the

Cardassian Union

The girl could feel the pull of the hevriton the line.

“That’s it,” Father whispered, a proud smile on his face as they sat in the boat in the middle of the river. The sun was out, reflecting off the crystal clear water. Father held a fishing rod of his own in his hands, but he soon set that aside to make sure that the girl would be able to bring in her catch. Father had been teaching her to fish because his own father had taught him to fish, and his mother had taught him, and her mother had taught her. Families did that sort of thing, he said. It was their second day out on the river in the small wooden boat.

“Bring the fish in,” Father then said.

Slowly, gently, she moved the lever on the control that would wind in the fishing line. The mechanism was sensitive, and she had to get the speed just right—not so slow that the hevritwould have time to wriggle off the end of the line, but not so fast as to cause the hevritto come loose on account of too much force.

“Take it easy,” Father cautioned her.

She eased the lever to a slower speed, then realized that was too slow and made it faster again. Soon she got it just right.

When Grandfather purchased the land on this world, he had invited his entire family to spend a vacation here, and the girl had never enjoyed herself more on a trip in her life. Her sister and brother could play silly war games all they wanted. She preferred spending this time learning to fish with Father.

When the end of the line with the hevritattached burst through the water with a cold splash, she gri

Father placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder and gri

The girl happily replayed those words in her mind over and over again as she and Father steered the boat back toward the shoreline. Mother and her brother and sister were waiting for them, along with Grandfather.

“Father,” her sister was whining even before they docked the boat, “he’s making me play the Bajoran terrorist again. Iwant to be the gul this time!”

As Father went to settle yet another stupid argument between her siblings, she carried the container with the hevritover to Mother and Grandfather.

“I see you brought di

“I caught this!” she said enthusiastically. “Father helped a little, but I caught it all by myself!”

“Good for you,” Grandfather said. “That’s the way it should be done.”

Few compared to Mother when it came to cooking. Not only that, but she showed her daughter all the tricks, from how to skin the hevrit,the best way to remove the tiny bones from the meat, the proper removal of the head, and so much more.

Night fell, and Mother, Father, Grandfather, and all three children gathered around a fire that was more for illumination than warmth, as it was quite balmy here. As they feasted on the hevrit,the girl turned to her grandfather and asked him for a story.

“That seems only fair,” Grandfather said. “I think a story’s damn fine payment for this meal you’ve given us.”

Grandfather took a moment to adjust the way he was sitting, and he also set his plate aside. Then he leaned forward and started speaking to the three children. The girl was rapt with attention—she loved stories.

“Once there was a people who were very happy. They lived on the greatest planet in the galaxy, and everyone had enough to eat and they were strong. But soon they started to run out of food. And the planet that had given them so much soon ran out of things to give them. The people then became very unhappy. They suffered and starved and they were no longer strong.”

Then Grandfather sat up straight, startling the girl. “But soon, they found their way to the stars! And from the stars, they gained salvation, for there they found many more worlds that had food and minerals and so much else. Once again, they were well fed. Once again, they were strong.”

Her brother said, “Who are they, Grandfather?”

“Stu-pid,” her sister said, “he’s talking about us.”