“I don’t disagree that she made a good planetary governor, under some unique circumstances, but my point is that she’s got to work with the council. Both Zife and Jaresh-Inyo were councillors who were elected president. Amitra was a cabinet member for three presidents before getting elected herself, and all the presidents she served under worked in the Palais in some form or other before being elected. Bacco’s the first outsider in a long time to actually win an election.”
Ra-Yalix laughed. “It doesn’t hurt that nobody from the Palais ran in this election. The only candidates were a Starfleet admiral, a special emissary, and a governor.”
“Which is,” Velisa added, “the first time that no member of the Federation Council participated in a presidential election in a hundred and fifty years. But then, this was a unique election.”
“I have another question,” Ele’er said. Again, Mother paused the playback. “Who did you vote for, Mother?”
Mother did not answer for several seconds. Then, finally, she said, “It does not matter.”
Ele’er hid a smile. That means she voted for Pagro. Ele’er hadn’t paid much attention to the election, since she was not old enough to vote, but she did know that the last president resigned. Ele’er wasn’t entirely sure why. She supposed she could ask, but she decided she wanted to see more of the conversation first.
Velisa continued when Mother restarted the playback. “One thing that is not unique is the current situation between the Deltans and the Carreon. Ra-Yalix, how do you think President Bacco should be handling the situation?”
“While I confess to admiring the president’s stated desire to see the parties work out their differences themselves, I’m afraid that any optimism in this regard is probably…shall we say…unwarranted.”
Nitram asked, “What is wrong with allowing Delta and Carrea to settle their differences internally?”
The Efrosian chuckled. “Because it’s unlikely that this time will be different from any other. The animosity between Delta and Carrea dates back to long before Delta joined the Federation—the two nations tried to colonize the same worlds when they first went out into space. The Carreon have been careful to limit their aggression since Delta became part of the Federation, but they’ve never been willing to give in.”
Shanthi added, “I was stationed near Delta IV when the Dominion attacked it. It was that attack that resulted in the poisoning of Delta’s water table, which in turn led to the breakdown of their water reclamation system, which was not designed to deal with the impurities that the Jem’Hadar introduced with their attacks. Although they were able to purify the water for a while, those measures broke down when the Dominion poison adapted. Other worlds have supplied water as a stopgap, but sooner or later, Delta must have use of its own water.”
“The point is,” Ra-Yalix said, “that the president is going to have to step in soon, because these two planets aren’t going to talk to each other except to make threats.”
Ele’er hated to admit it to herself, but she found the discussion fascinating. In fact, the only thing she didn’t like was Councillor Nitram’s near-total silence. She felt that the representative of her world to the Federation Council should be more willing to speak. Maybe he shouldn’t be obnoxious the way that reporter is, but still…
Velisa looked around at the panel. “So, to conclude, how do you think President Bacco is doing in her first two months?”
Ra-Yalix said, “I think she’s proceeding with caution for the time being, which is prudent. Once she gets the lay of the land, as it were, she’ll be fine.”
Sovan shook his head. “Caution is the worst approach she can take. The people need a leader who can fill the vacuum left by Zife, and move the Federation past the Dominion War and its aftermath. She won’t do that by treading lightly.”
Nitram simply said, “I look forward to continuing to cooperate with President Bacco on an agenda that will do as Mr. Sovan says—move the Federation forward.”
Shanthi leaned back in her chair. “I think she has done a fine job and will continue to do so.”
“Well, thank you Sovan, Ra-Yalix, Councillor Nitram, and Admiral Shanthi. Good night, everyone.”
Mother turned the viewer off and looked at her daughter. “Do you have any questions?”
Ele’er smiled. “Yes—can we watch this again the next time it is on?”
Chapter Two
NANIETTA BACCO, newly elected president of the United Federation of Planets, wondered what quirk of fate had led to her being at once a person who despised meetings with a fiery passion, yet who also wanted more than anything else to go into the world of politics—a profession that was approximately ninety percent meetings.
She sat behind the large desk in the presidential office in the Palais de la Concorde in Paris on Earth. The desk was made out of a hard, lightly patterned material known as salish, native to Atrea, which had been brought to the Palais by President Amitra and left behind when she’d declined to run for a second term. Her successors, Jaresh-Inyo and Min Zife, had both used different desks, but Nan had always been fond of the feel of salish—it had the sturdiness of metal and the romance of wood—and so she had had that desk put in when she’d taken office. The desk had a rotating holographic image of her daughter, Annabella, as a girl, of Annabella as an adult with her husband and children, of just the children, and of Nan’s own parents on their wedding day on Cestus III a hundred years ago.
Behind her—in fact, all around her—was a panoramic view of Paris. The office was a half-circle, with the entire curved part of the wall taken up with a window that showed the River Seine, the Tour Eiffel, the Bâtiment Vingt-Troisième Siècle, and of course, the Champs Elysées, which ran under the cylindrical fifteen-story structure that housed the nexus of the Federation government.
“The Deltan ambassador keeps insisting that they can handle it, and Eleana’s backing her play. They don’t want interference.”
Seated on either the large sofa parallel to her desk or the several chairs that formed lines perpendicular to both ends of that sofa were several of Nan’s policy advisors, as well as Esperanza Piñiero, her chief of staff. The comment had been made by Ashanté Phiri, one of Esperanza’s four deputies. All four deputies were in this meeting, along with Ashanté’s husband, Fred MacDougan, the head speechwriter; the secretary of the exterior, a taciturn Rigelian named Safranski; and Admiral William Ross, who served as Starfleet liaison to the president.
Esperanza said, “They’ve also been going at it for a month, and they haven’t gotten anywhere. I think we need to bring them here.”
Shrugging, Ashanté said, “Then they’ll just yell at each other here.”
Z4 Blue, who had, after a great deal of wheedling and convincing by Esperanza, given up a forest quadrant governorship on Nasat to become a deputy COS, spoke from his specially modified chair. “There’s a big difference between arguing on some moon in the Delta system and arguing in the Palais. Here they’re under the gaze of the council and the president.”
“And the press.” Another deputy, a hyperactive Zakdorn woman named Myk Bunkrep, leaned forward in her chair, so much that Nan feared she would fall out of it. “I can talk to Jorel,” she said, referring to the press liaison for both the president and the council, Kant Jorel, “get him to have some reporters ‘accidentally’ stumble in on their meeting, or ambush them as they come out of the transporter room.”
Ashanté rolled her dark eyes to the ceiling. “Yes, that guarantees that they’ll be friendly and open to a negotiation.”
“They’re already disinclined to talk.” Myk blew out a breath through her mouth, wedged as it was between the thick folds of cheek skin that was peculiar to Zakdorns. “Why not take advantage?”
“Hold on a moment.” Xeldara Trask tugged on one of her oversized earlobes, as she always did before she said something, a habit of the Tiburonian’s that Nan found irritating. “Why are we even having this discussion?”
Nan smiled. “I�
��ve been asking myself that question for the last five minutes.”
Most of those present chuckled—Myk being the exception, as she never quite grasped humor, her one character flaw, as far as Nan was concerned—and then Xeldara said, “I’m serious, Madam President, why don’t the Deltans just use another water reclamation system? I can’t imagine that the Carreon’s is the only one available.”
“It’s a time factor,” Esperanza said. “Traditional systems will work eventually, but their water will be irreversibly contaminated by that time. They’ve been staving it off, but—”
“And the Carreon system—” Xeldara started.
Ashanté finished the sentence. “—will work ten times faster and clear their entire water table of the toxins the Jem’Hadar put in.”
Again, Xeldara tugged on her ear. “All right, then, we stick them in a room.”
Esperanza looked at Nan. “What do you think?”
Nan let out a long breath. “I think that a month ago, I said that we should bring them here and lock them in a room until they starve to death, and you people told me to give them a chance to hash it out first. Well, I gave them that chance, Delta’s water is getting worse, and we’re all a month older. I think we’ve all learned something from this.” Nan grinned. “I’m right, and you’re all wrong.” Again, the soft laughter. “I think the next four years’ll go a lot more smoothly if everyone gets that through their heads.”
“Absolutely, Madam President,” Esperanza said in her usual deadpan.
“What’s next?”
Ross leaned forward in his chair. Nan had mixed feelings about Ross. A decorated Dominion War hero—he led Starfleet’s forces on the front lines—his support during the campaign had made a huge contribution to Nan’s victory. But Nan also knew the real circumstances under which Min Zife had resigned—and Ross’s role in that. At first she had resisted making him the fleet liaison, but Esperanza had reminded her of the old adage about keeping friends close and enemies closer. Nan wasn’t sure which Ross was—yet—but it was best to keep him in the Palais to be safe.
“The U.S.S. Io has reported in with a first contact.”
“That worked out?” Esperanza said.
This was the first Nan was hearing of this. “First contact?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ross said. “The Io is one of the new Luna-class ships. They made contact with a world called Trinni/ek. They’re quite an advanced species, and they wish to open diplomatic relations. According to the report from Captain T’Vrea, they aren’t native to that world—they colonized it a few millennia ago when their homeworld became uninhabitable.”
“Do we know why it became uninhabitable?”
Ross shook his head. “That information’s been lost to antiquity, though their best guess is that the sun went nova. But they were very interested in what T’Vrea and her people told them about the Federation, and they’d like to start diplomatic relations.”
Nan looked over at the secretary of the exterior. “What do you think, Safranski?”
The Rigelian shrugged. “The initial reports seem promising. I haven’t had a chance to go over them in full yet. I was waiting for your recommendation.”
“I can’t recommend anything until you write me a report.”
Fred spoke up. “For what it’s worth, Madam President, I think we should push for this. A first contact and a possible new ally will be a huge PR victory for us. All anybody’s been talking about for the last few years are the Ontailians and the Selelvians and the Trill—we need something that shows us reaching out and welcoming someone in for a change.”
Nan nodded. “All right. Safranski, get Esperanza that report by the end of the day.”
“Of course, Madam President.”
She looked at Ross. “Anything else Starfleet-related I need to know about?”
“The Sugihara is studying a neutron star in Sector 109-G, Starbase 10’s reporting some indications of Borg remains along the Romulan border, the Enterprise is investigating reports of Breen incursion in Sector 204-E, and the Hood’s found some ancient machinery on Gorak IX.”
“What kind of machinery?” Esperanza asked.
“Captain DeSoto’s report wasn’t specific.”
“Well, find out—it’s been my experience that ancient machinery tends to activate and turn everyone on your ship into newts if you’re not careful.”
Nan tapped her fingers on the salish desk. “I’m a lot less concerned about a ship full of newts than I am about the Borg.”
“The indications are remains, ma’am,” Ross said in what the admiral probably thought was a reassuring voice. Then he smiled. “We’ve found remains like that in several other places—here in the Alpha Quadrant, in the Gamma Quadrant by the Defiant, and by Voyager when they were in the Delta Quadrant. I don’t think it poses an imminent threat.”
Nan found herself wholly not reassured by Ross’s words. “Yeah, well, keep an eye on it anyhow, just for my peace of mind. The Borg have attacked this solar system twice already, and I don’t think the third time will be the charm.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Anything else?”
“Council appointments,” Esperanza said.
Nan nodded. “All right. Admiral, Safranski, thank you both. I’ll expect to be hearing from both of you by the end of the day.”
Ross and Safranski both rose from their chairs and said, “Thank you, Madam President.” As they departed through the leftmost of the three doors into the office, which took them to the turbolift area, their footfalls barely registered on the dark green carpet Nan had installed in place of the white carpet that Zife had favored. The other two doors led to the waiting room—which was how people generally came in—and to Nan’s private study, respectively.
“Right.” Ashanté pulled a padd out of her pocket as soon as the door shut behind Ross and Safranski. “We’ve got openings on judiciary, government oversight, and interplanetary commerce, and that, in turn, may create more openings.”
Esperanza asked, “What’ve you guys come up with?” Nan knew that Esperanza had assigned Z4 and Ashanté to make a list of recommendations for all three seats among the current crop of councillors.
“Judiciary’s Artrin,” Z4 said.
“Definitely,” Ashanté added. “He’ll be ratified in a walk.”
“For government oversight, we were thinking of either Sanaht, Jix, or Quintor.”
Nan stroked her chin. Those three represented Janus VI, Trill, and Antede III. Sanaht, a Horta, had served in the council for over seventy-five years but had always avoided high-profile sub-councils. The others were comparative newcomers, having joined the council three and seven years earlier, respectively.
Shaking her head, Esperanza said, “Not Jix.”
“Why not?” Z4 asked.
“Because she’s only been in the council for three years, and the reason she got appointed is because the last one resigned during that parasite mess. I don’t think that’s the right person to put on government oversight. I don’t think Sanaht is, either.”
“I disagree,” Ashanté said. “Sanaht’s perfect. Everyone on the council respects him.”
Xeldara smiled. “That’s because they’re afraid he’s going to eat their chairs.”
Returning the smile, Ashanté said, “The point is, he’ll be ratified easily.”
“Easy appointments would be nice,” Esperanza said, “but we need a hawk. Quintor’s the right one for the job.”
Ashanté’s smile fell. “Esperanza, we can’t afford a floor fight over appointments. Quintor’s spent the last seven years pissing off everyone else in the council chamber. Besides, it’s not like it’s a major sub-council, it’s government oversight. What do we need a hawk there for?”
Nan spoke before Esperanza could reply. “Because the last president resigned.”
The office grew quiet. Nan exchanged a glance with Esperanza. Unlike everyone else in the room, the two of them knew the real reasons why Min Zife, his ch
ief of staff, and one of his cabinet members resigned, and it had nothing to do with the realities of managing the Federation in the wake of war, as his resignation speech had oh-so-nobly assured. They had secretly armed Tezwa, an independent world on the Klingon border, putting those weapons in the hands of a lunatic prime minister who’d used them on a Klingon task force and a Starfleet vessel. Zife had known of the weapons but hadn’t warned the Klingons or his own people about them, and then tried to cover up the crime before he’d been discovered by Starfleet. If the real reasons had gotten out, government oversight would have roasted him for lunch—right before the Klingons declared their right of vengeance and made war on a longtime ally who’d lied to them and whose depraved indifference had led to the dishonorable deaths of thousands of warriors.
“What about interplanetary commerce?” Esperanza asked, signaling that the discussion on government oversight had ended.
“That’s easy,” Ashanté said. “We promised that seat to Beltane during the campaign in exchange for her support. That’s not the problem.”
“Hang on,” Xeldara said, tugging her ear. “Is she qualified?”
Z4 made a tinkling noise. “Overqualified. She was the leader among Elaysians for expanding the mandate of the trade agreements on Gemworld. Frankly, she should’ve been on commerce years ago.”
Ashanté sighed. “But that opens up a seat on technology. Z4’s about to tell you it should be C29 Green—”
Z4’s antennae twirled outward. “It should be C29.”
Rolling her eyes, Ashanté said, “He can’t even operate a padd without three aides giving him a tutorial, and you want to put him on technology?”
“He oversaw half a dozen technology initiatives on Nasat. He’s right for the job.”
Esperanza asked Ashanté, “Who do you prefer?”
“Almost anybody else.”
A warning in her tone, Esperanza started, “Ashanté—”
“Severn-Anyar, Govrin, Gelemingar, or Nitram.”
Nan knew that the councillors for Grazer, Pandril, Gnala, and Bre’el IV were all qualified, but she was surprised at one name missing. “What about Jix? We’re not giving her judiciary. Why not put her on technology?”
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