Clara glanced around the room, taking another sip of the wine in her left hand and was doing her best not to knock the rather elaborate hairpiece off her head. It seemed that the Mackdorans were extremely particular about the attire of those around them during diplomatic functions; women were to wear a wig roughly 11 inches tall and filled with orange ribbons in an elaborate pattern. She had no idea how it was staying on her head but she wasn’t questioning whatever technology was keeping it in place. The dress she was required to wear was bright silver and flowed down long enough to cover her feet, which were not to be visible in any way as the Mackdorans viewed visible shoes or feet to be one of the worse insults in existence. The men had it slightly easier; they had to wear simple red shirts and red pants that covered their shoes. Their hair could not be visible whatsoever and the solution the diplomatic office came up with for that? Berets. Large, somewhat floppy, berets. She would have found it amusing had she not been forced to strap a monstrosity of a periwig to her own head.

“I know we’re supposed to be deeply respectful of other cultures and their traditions and I fully support that idea, but we look completely ridiculous right now.”

Clara turned, slowly so that the weight of her own hair didn’t cause her to topple over, towards the voice behind her, spotting her partner in crime for the evening.

“I’ve been though my fare share of first contacts, diplomatic functions, and negotiations but I do think this takes the cake in terms of going the extra mile to please a species.” Clara downed the last of the wine in her glass. “If the diplomatic attaches come around with the holo-camera, just be sure to run and hide.”

“I will hit any person who attempts to take a picture of me.” Alana snatched a glass a wine from a passing waiter. “I don’t understand why the other delegations didn’t have to dress themselves up.”

Clara glanced around the room and it was true; the Romulan, Cardassian and Klingon delegations all wore their normal formal attire. Most of the other non-Federation representatives didn’t bother to dress themselves up either.

“I don’t think our guests are as concerned with diplomatic protocol as Starfleet tends to be.” Clara’s eye scanned the rather large Cardassian delegation, quickly spotting her target as he made his way to one of the refreshment tables. “At least you don’t have to try and conduct unsanctioned diplomatic negotiations while balancing a wig on your head.”

She heard Alana let out a sigh. “I guess I’ll start drafting up a letter of apology to task force command as soon as we get out of here.”

Clara flashed her a smile. “Don’t bother, if this goes south they’ll have my pips for what I’m about to do.”

She carefully made her way towards the Cardassian she spotted earlier, vaguely hearing PO Westland muttering something about already having a headache as she walked away.

“Gul Nuver, how nice to see you again.”

The Cardassian turned towards her, recognition and slight distain coloring his face. “Captain Myers. What a pleasure to see you again. What has it been? Twenty five years?”

The tone of his voice betrayed the smile on his face; she was likely the last person he wanted to see. “Twenty six, actually.”

He nodded, a soft hum of acknowledgement crossing his lips. “I suppose I have you to thank for being sent here?”

She picked up a glass of something she didn’t recognize from the table and took a sip, smile never leaving her lips. “I still happen to know a few people from my post-war days.”

“That wasn’t a yes or no, Captain.”

“No, it wasn’t, Gul.” She stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “I’m calling in that favor you promised me all those years ago on Yela IV.”

He scoffed, a hard scowl forming on his face. “Don’t be ridiculous Captain, I owe you nothing after twenty five years. The connections I gave you with the government post war were payment enough.”

“Keep smiling Gul. The eyes of both our government are on us right now, especially after that stunt with the subspace corridors.”

His eyes narrowed, voice taking on a hostile tone. “You have no right to question how Central Command responds to a threat in our own space. If they Federation hand’t been so weak and useless that…”

“Smile, Gul.” Her voice dropped to a low hiss, the tone cutting through his rant. “It would be a shame if the Obsidian Order misconstrued our conversation; we’re just two old colleagues catching up on the last few decades.”

She watched as he reigned in his expression, finally realizing that she was correct. “Fine Captain. What do you want to catch up on?”

“I need security information on how to bypass the Union’s sensor nets along the trailing rim-ward sectors near Tholian space, enough to slip a civilian vessel or runabout right along the border.”

Nuver let out a barking laugh. “You can’t be serious Captain. You expect me to just give you classified tactical data that allows you to avoid detection along our own space? I’ve never head anything so absurd.”

This time Myers eyes narrowed slightly. “My crew is stranded, somewhere out there past the Cardassian and Tholian borders. I have to find them. It would take weeks if not months to take the long way around or I could risk an all out war with the Tholian Empire by riding along their side of the border.” She was exaggerating, if only slightly. “We do not leave people behind. You know that just as well as I do; had it not been for myself and the rest of the Van Leeuwenhoek crew you and your people would have died, alone and forgotten on that barren planet after the Dominion turned on the Cardassian people. I saved your people, now help me save mine.”

She could see the wheels turning in his head. She hoped it would be enough so that she didn’t have to bring out her ‘ace’, so to speak.

“No.” He finally said. “I will not compromise the security of the Union for your little rescue mission. The Federation is weak and incompetent. You allow the New Maquis to attack and kill our people, you allowed the Founders to worm their way into ranks yet again, the Borg came within in seconds of destroying the entire Federation. Why would I allow that kind of information to make its way into Starfleet hands? You are weak. Pathetic. Incompetent. The Federation, after two hundred and forty years, is finally on the precipice of faltering altogether. The Cardassian Empire stands strong, powerful, ready. We owe you nothing and need nothing from you.”

Clara did her best to keep her face neutral. She hadn’t expected this from Nuver, of all people. He had always been reasonable and for a time after she rescued him and his crew off of Yela she called him a friend. She knew he had soured on her a bit after she leaned on him a few two many times to gain information and favors inside the Union during the past war clean up period but she had no idea he’d reached this level. If this was the typical attitude that was forming through the Cardassian military then they had a bigger problem than she thought.

She steeled herself for what she was about to do. It went against everything she wanted to be. If made her feel foul but she had come this far and there was not situation in which she was going to let her people die on some backwater planet, far from home.

“I see.” She turned back towards the group of Cardassians, spotting a man close in age to Nuver and whose uniform was ever so slightly different than the rest. “I see Gul Revet is here as well. How is he doing?”

Nuver froze in place, back going almost ram rod straight. “What do you know of Revet?”

She leaned past him, picking up a glass of amber liquid from the refreshment table. “I know you both booked a private villa on a remote island in Risa for the past six years, arriving there under false name on a civilian cruiser. I know three years year ago you called in just about every favor you had left to get him assigned to Venrok Nor as the Obsidian Order liaison and that his quarters were suspiciously close to yours. I know you’ve gone to great and extreme lengths to keep what the two of you have a secret and I know you care for him. Deeply.”

“Lies.” His voice was stiff but concerned.

She took a sip of the tart liquid she held, leaning in a lowering her voice. “Come now, you know that Starfleet Intelligence is just as good as the Obsidian Order at digging up the details. They just don’t torture people to do it.”

Nuver remained silent. She could see beads of sweat on his forehead. There was a gnawing feeling in her abdomen, like her conscience was chewing away at her stomach as punishment for what she was about to do.

“It would be a shame if the data Starfleet has collected were to find its way to the Obsidian Order. I don’t know every rule and regulation of the Cardassian Central Command but I do know that they frown upon its officers fraternizing with members of the Order on such an intimate level, especially in these tense political times. Do me this favor Nuver and I’ll do you one; I promise Starfleet Intelligence will bury this data and you’ll never see my face again.”

She held her breath without realizing it. It was gamble, one that made her feel gross from her head to her toes, but it was the last card she held.

“Fine.” He spoke low, his voice tense and quiet. “I’ll have the codes to our border security sensor net sent to you tomorrow. They are changed every 120 hours and don’t know what the next set is. The codes will allow you to bypass the sensors and you won’t be picked up unless a patrol comes into sensor range.”

She smiled, gripping his arm to pull him in a for a half hug; a simple gesture between old friends, if there were any inquisitive eyes upon them. It was out of place with the conversation but she wanted nothing more than to be back on Galaxy. “Thank you.”

“You have made an enemy of Cardassia today. Be sure I, nor my squadrons, ever see your face again because I will not hesitate to kill you.” He meant what he said, the look in his eye confirmation of that.

“That is a price I am willing to pay, Gul.” She released his arm, turning and stepping away, still careful to not dislodge her hair piece. She downed the rest of the bitter liquid in her glass, the alcohol burning as it went down.

Westland quickly spotted her as Myers weaved though the crowd. “Do you accomplish what you wanted?”

Myers grimaced slightly. “Yes. We’re leaving.  I don’t have it in me to keep a fake smile on my face after what I just did.”

Alana sighed. “I see. I’ll start on the letter first thing in the morning.”

Clara waved her hand. “At this point I’ll gladly give them my pips. I’ll deal with it later, I just need to be out of this place.”

The two stepped into small, personal, transporter alcoves near the entrance and input the Galaxy‘s registration number. Clara closed her eyes, a small part of her hoping that it would shield her from Nuver’s gaze. It didn’t. Even with eyes closed she swore she felt his anger, his rage, being directed at her. She didn’t blame him; she deserved it. She wasn’t sure how many more times she could nudge the envelope of her own mortality for the sake of her crew and Starfleet. She would go to the ends of the known universe to bring them home but in the end, she had to ask, what would be left of herself? It was a question she’d save for a later time.

After what seemed like hours but in reality was less that 30 seconds, she heard the whine of the transporter and felt the distinctive tickle spread across the body and she was whisked away in a shimmer of blue and gold