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Saavik was calmer now; David’s presence seemed to soothe her volatile affect and to allow her Vulcan upbringing to manifest itself. They walked without speaking, but the silence was relaxed and comforting, as it could be only between two people who shared a genuine intimacy. Only when it felt appropriate did she finally break the stillness.

“As it happens,” she said, “I am eligible to petition for Romulan citizenship. It is my birthright.”

“But…” David responded with confusion. “Wouldn’t you have to renounce your Federation citizenship? Sever your ties to Vulcan?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps…” she said, sounding detached and indifferent. “But I don’t know who to believe in anymore. All I know is that if I am to be recalled, and this embassy is to close its doors, I would rather stay here than return to Vulcan.”

“You can believe in me,” David assured her. “If there is no one else you can count on-no one you can trust-you can have faith that I will stand by you.”

“Thank you, David,” she said. “But I’m afraid we will be worlds apart.” Her voice dwindled away to a weak whisper. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve spent most of my life alone.”

“Not anymore,” he whispered back. He removed his communicator from his vest pocket with his left hand and flipped it open. “David Marcus to Ladyhawke. Captain Dillon, come in.”

“Dillon here,” the response came back.

“Change of plans, Captain,” David said. “Go on and head for home. Looks like I’ll be staying here longer than planned.” He looked at Saavik and smiled. “Maybe a lot longer,” he said softly.

“Roger that,” Dillon replied. “Good luck to ya.”

Saavik grasped David’s right hand and caressed it. “You will do this for me?” she asked. “But…Earth has been liberated. What about your home? What about the Federation?”

David laughed sweetly. “Saavik…I’ve spent more years of my life with you than I’ve spent living on Earth. That’s not my home. Your home is my home, whatever your decision may be. And besides…” He flipped his communicator closed and tossed it aside, then wrapped his arm around her and drew her close. “I think the Federation will be just fine without us.”

A Gutted World

Keith R.A. DeCandido

Historian’s Note

This novel takes place in the year 2373 on the Old Earth calendar, the equivalent of the fifth season of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and the third season of Star Trek: Voyager, and in the vicinity of the events of Star Trek: First Contact.

A dirty house in a gutted world,

A tatter of shadows peaked to white,

Smeared with the gold of the opulent sun.

-Wallace Stevens

“A Postcard from the Volcano”

1

Space Station Terok Nor In Orbit of Bajor Cardassian Union

“I can assure you, Dalin, that I am but a plain, simple clothier. I’ve no idea where the shapeshifter might be.”

Corat Damar-who still wasn’t used to being referred to by his newly acquired rank of dalin-glared at the placid face and beatific smile of the man in the guest chair of his office. Behind him was a large glass door, currently closed against the noise and bustle of the Terok Nor Promenade. This whole thing is a waste of time. But Damar was a soldier, and his commanding officer had given him an order, so he followed it, and interrogated Elim Garak.

For all the good it will do.

“According to one of my sources,” Damar said, “you were friends with the shapeshifter before he disappeared.”

“I was hardly that, Dalin,” Garak said. “In fact, Odo and I only spoke a few times. As a shapeshifter, he had no use for my services, and as a clothier, I have very little use for the ins and outs of station security.” Holding up a hand, he added, “Present company excepted, of course, Dalin. And may I say, congratulations on your well-deserved promotion. I’m sure the Promenade will be far safer under your tutelage.”

“Thank you.” Damar said the words as insincerely as he could, which took little effort. He wanted nothing from the tailor save information that he knew he’d never get. The security file on Garak was huge and yet said absolutely