“Maybe not, but that’s not what I want from him. He’s been Starfleet’s point man on this from the beginning, and I want him in there. However, if you want a blunt assessment, why don’t we bring Molmaan into it?”
“A reasonable compromise. Thank you, Madam President.”
Standing up, Nan held up her hand and parted her two middle fingers in the Vulcan salute. “Thank you, Councillor. Peace and long life.”
T’Latrek rose and returned the salute. “Live long and prosper, Madam President.”
Chapter Ten
KANT JOREL TRIED not to grind his teeth while Artrin made his resignation speech. He said all the right things and apologized for what he’d done—though, to Jorel’s surprise, Artrin limited his apology to the victim of his decision. The councillor was forthright and eloquent.
Jorel knew it would go badly once he was done.
Reluctantly, he had to give credit to President Bacco for doing it this way—and for letting Jorel see the resignation first. He had made a couple of changes, softening some of the language to make Artrin look more contrite, which he’d accepted. By doing it in the room, by preempting the story before somebody could break it, Jorel got to control the story, at least initially.
The apology, however, had been ad-libbed. Jorel worried about the reaction to that.
Not nearly as much as he worried about the subsequent press questions that he would get when Artrin was done.
When the councillor finished, he opened the floor for questions. Earlier, Jorel had told him to call on Regradnischrak from Sebrotnizskeapoierf first. A lightweight from Antares, he wouldn’t ask a substantive question, and it would give Artrin a chance to get his bearings.
To Jorel’s surprise, Regradnischrak asked a better question than Jorel would have credited him with. “Councillor, why did you limit your apology to this chameloid you wrongly imprisoned?”
“Because he is the only one to whom I owe an apology.” He pointed to Regia Maldonado of FNS.
“I’m surprised you feel that way, Councillor,” Regia said. “Don’t other people deserve an apology? The people of Triex, the people of the Federation, your fellow councillors and the president—don’t they deserve an apology?”
“No. Triexian law states that classified judicial sessions may not be spoken of in the presence of anyone who did not participate in the session, unless one is instructed to by a superior. If I had told them, I would have violated the law. I have nothing to apologize for on that front.”
“So why talk about it now?”
“I am—or was—a Federation councillor. My superior—the president of the Federation—ordered me to speak of it. Let me repeat that I deeply regret the decision that I made and the damage it did to Wusekl’s life. What I do today is all I can offer him in recompense. But he is the damaged party, not the people of Triex, not the people of the Federation, not my fellow councillors, and not President Bacco.” He then pointed to the new reporter from Seeker, whose name Jorel couldn’t remember. Idly, he wondered when Ozla would be coming back from Tezwa—and why she thought going to that hellhole was such a good idea.
The young Trill asked, “Where is Wusekl now?”
“I honestly don’t know. He was granted his freedom six years ago and left Triex.”
“So you never kept up with him? Checked to see how he was faring?”
“To have done so—particularly from Earth once I became councillor—would have risked violating the very law that prevented me from discussing it.” He then pointed at Sovan, whom Jorel had told the councillor to call on last.
“Do you know who’ll be replacing you as Triex’s councillor?”
“The Triexian Curia will vote on a replacement to serve out my term. Thank you, that is all for now.”
Artrin left the room with all the speed that a three-legged person could muster—which was considerable—and Jorel then approached the podium.
“Before you pester me with questions, I have some announcements. As you’ve probably all heard, Ambassador Spock is meeting with the president today to discuss the ongoing Romulan problem.”
“Jorel,” Maria Olifante said, “I’ve gotten reports of more violence in the Revelok system and a double murder in Ehrie’fvil. Can you confirm that?”
“I’ve gotten the same reports, but nothing more than that—there’ll be a Starfleet briefing today at 1500, so you can ask them then, since they’re the ones who told us. Now, if I can go on without further interruptions—Ambassador Spock will be meeting with the president this morning, and Spock may also speak before the council when it is in session this afternoon. During that session, President Bacco will also introduce her new nominee for the judiciary council to replace former Councillor Artrin.”
Edmund Atkinson asked, “Do we know who that is yet?”
Jorel smiled. “Depends on your definition of ‘we,’ doesn’t it, Edmund?”
Rolling his eyes, Edmund spoke more slowly. “Can you tell us?”
“You know, I’ve never understood the whole idea of announcing when you’re going to announce something. If I said, ‘President Bacco will be announcing that Councillor Whoever will be her nominee for judiciary at 1330 when council is in session,’ then she really won’t be announcing it at 1330, because I’ll just have done it for her. So, no, I can’t tell you, because I really don’t want to spoil it for the president.”
Of course, it helps that nobody’s told me who it is, either, Jorel thought with a sigh. Esperanza was huddled with her deputies, going over candidates so that they’d have a recommendation by 1300.
Jorel continued. “After her morning meetings, the president will be attending a reception in honor of the hundredth birthday of the assistant technology secretary, Toshiro Czierniewski, where she will be giving a toast, and after that will be the council session.” He noticed that Kav from the Tellarite News Service was waving his furry hand about. Giving in to the inevitable, Jorel called on him.
“Councillor Artrin—sorry, former Councillor Artrin—did not call on me, Jorel, and I had a question of great import.”
“Kav, all your questions are of great import—to you.”
That got a laugh out of several reporters. Kav, however, was undeterred. “Why now?”
Jorel frowned. “Why what now?”
“Artrin made his judgment several years ago. He was nominated to the judiciary council several months ago. So why is it now that he is revealing this and resigning?”
“Because the president only learned of it yesterday, when a member of the Palais staff uncovered it in the course of research on a different topic.” What amazed Jorel was that nobody asked that question of Artrin.
“So President Bacco’s statements of support of Artrin were done without any knowledge of this incident?”
“Correct. Nofia?” The Deltan reporter had her hand up, and Jorel had had enough of Kav.
“Has there been any progress in the negotiations in the Wescott Room?”
Jorel had been expecting someone to ask about that and wasn’t at all surprised that it was Nofia, mainly because there weren’t any Carreon in the room, the news media on Carrea apparently not being interested in reporting on the doings of the Palais from up close. “I spoke with both ambassadors last night after the last session. Ambassador Tierra said that progress is being made, and she’s hopeful that the Carreon will agree to provide Delta with the water reclamation system they desperately need. Ambassador Yorgas said that progress is being made, and he’s hopeful that the Deltans will accede to the Carreon’s reasonable demands.”
Nofia smiled. “I take that to mean that no progress is being made, which is pretty much the same story for the past two months. Is there any chance that President Bacco will intervene?”
“I’d say there’s a chance, but whether or not it happens today will depend on several other factors, most of them related to the once and future Romulan Star Empire.” He picked up his padds from the podium. “That’s all for now. I’ll have an
other briefing this afternoon after the session ends.”
The reporters all disappeared as the holocom was deactivated.
“I must say, I do love being able to just turn them off like that.”
Jorel’s assistant, Zhres, was standing nearby. “So you have said on several occasions.”
“And I’ll probably continue to say it as long as it’s true. Has anybody hammered us on Sorlak’s appearance yet?”
Zhres’s antennae quivered. “I’m sorry?”
Rolling his eyes, Jorel said, “Sorlak was on ICL a few days ago, and she went on at great length about the confidence the president had in Artrin. I deflected Kav, but I don’t think that’s going to slow anyone down. Keep on the feeds, see who pounces on that.”
“Right.” Zhres moved off to his office. Jorel headed for the turbolift. He needed to talk to Esperanza right away.
“This is a most impressive office, Madam President.”
Nan chuckled at the remark from Ambassador Spock. Resplendent as he was in his black robe of office with Vulcan lettering emblazoned down one of the folds, his hair was thinner than Nan thought it would be. But then even legends get old eventually. Look at me.
Spock was seated in one of the office’s chairs; Esperanza was seated opposite him, with Raisa next to her. T’Latrek, Molmaan, Jas, and Akaar hadn’t arrived yet.
“I’m surprised you haven’t been here before, Mr. Ambassador,” she said, leaning against the front of her desk.
“I have been in the president’s office, but not since your election—indeed, the last president I visited was President Amitra. All presidents supply their own unique stamp upon this room.”
Nan chuckled. “So it’s been three presidents since you’ve been back here.”
“My mission to Romulus was always expected to be a long-term one, Madam President.”
“Well, what Romulus has been through hasn’t been particularly long-term, Mr. Ambassador.”
“I am confused at the use of curtains over the window,” he said.
At that, Nan couldn’t help but laugh. “Too low-tech for you?”
“My own needs are of no consequence. I simply find it hard to believe that the windows are not capable of being polarized to keep harsh sunlight out of the room, while still affording you the panorama.”
Never knew you moonlighted as an interior decorator. Somehow, Nan managed not to say that out loud. “There are times when I don’t want the distraction of the view, and I hate the way the window looks when it’s opaqued—it’s like working in a damn obelisk. Hence, the curtains.” As she spoke, the door slid open to reveal the two councillors and the admiral. Still no Jas Abrik. I swear, I’m going to kill him.
Akaar walked over to Spock and gave him a Capellan salute. “You honor us all with your presence, Spock.”
“The honor is mine, Leonard.”
As Akaar took his seat, the door slid open to reveal Jas. “I’m sorry I’m late,” the elderly Trill said as he entered, “but I was in the Monet Room. Madam President, the Shirekral-class vessel that has been approaching our border has reached Outpost 22. It has identified itself as the Reman Free Vessel Vkruk, and its captain has requested asylum in the Federation for himself and his crew, which includes twenty-nine Remans of both sexes.”
“Fascinating,” Spock muttered. Louder, he said, “Vkruk was the name of Shinzon’s viceroy.”
Nan sighed. “I just love cheap symbolism.”
“These could be some of Shinzon’s people,” Esperanza said.
Jas took a seat on the sofa. “Speaking of Remus, I’m afraid there’s more—there was a cave-in in one of the dilithium mines on Remus, and there was an explosion on one of the farms in Ehrie’fvil.”
This just gets better and better. Ehrie’fvil was the name of the continent on Romulus where the Remans had relocated. Remus itself was barely habitable, used only for mining dilithium and manufacturing heavy weapons. The Remans could service the Romulans there but not command their own destiny, as Remus could never be self-sufficient. This news came on the heels of a Reman couple being found brutally murdered yesterday. “How bad?”
“At least a hundred confirmed dead in the mine. As for the farm, nobody was killed, but the damage was extensive.”
T’Latrek asked, “One assumes the incident in Ehrie’fvil was deliberate. What of the cave-in? Was it truly an accident, or was it too sabotage?”
“For now, all we know is that something happened. I only have the hundred dead from Ambassador Rozhenko. He was meeting with Chancellor Martok when the news came to the Great Hall. I’m hoping to get another report in fifteen minutes.”
Spock turned toward Nan. “If I may, Madam President?”
Nan gestured toward Spock even as she took the chair opposite him, next to Esperanza. “Go on, Mr. Ambassador, you’re the reason we’re all here right now.”
“In coming here, I intended to propose a course of action regarding the Reman problem. The incidents that Admiral Abrik has just described simply make my proposition all the more logical.”
Nan regarded Spock. “And what would that proposition be?”
“The Remans require their own world.”
Molmaan let out a sharp breath. “The Remans already have a continent.”
“While Ehrie’fvil was a tenable solution three months ago, it was contingent on the Remans’ being able to make use of the land to create their own economy. The disaster that Admiral Abrik has described is only the latest difficulty. There have been attacks on the Remans’ crops—it has been impossible to prove sabotage, but impossible to disprove it as well. In addition, there have been continued instances of violence on Romulus itself that parallels the violence in space.”
Nan scratched her chin. “So you think getting them away from the Romulans is the right course of action?”
“Yes. The violence has escalated and is now interfering with the peace process.”
Esperanza shook her head. “I’m not sure I like the idea of that—it sounds like we’ve given up on the notion of them living in peace.”
Raisa said, “I do not believe that was ever an option; if it were, the Klingons would not be needed.”
“Or even desirable,” Jas said. “If your goal’s to bring about peaceful coexistence, you don’t do it with the Klingons breathing down your necks.”
Spock steepled his fingers in front of his face. “I share your misgivings, Ms. Piñiero. I too would prefer that the Remans and Romulans live in peace. However, I no longer believe that goal is viable, much as we had hoped it would be. Between them, the Klingons and Remans have enough ships to transport all the Remans currently living in Ehrie’fvil to a new world.”
Molmaan threw up his webbed hands. “Fine, let them! Why are we even having this conversation? The Remans don’t want any part of us—they made that very clear when Captain Riker offered them an opportunity to become a Federation protectorate—and neither do the Romulans. Let them all kill each other.”
Esperanza said, “The violence is escalating, Councillor. If it keeps up, we won’t be able to stay out of it.”
“Why not?” Jas asked.
“Why not what?” Esperanza asked right back.
“Why not simply let the Klingons and Romulans fight it out?”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “You would condemn the Remans so callously?”
Jas gave Spock a withering look. “Not to put too fine a point on it, Mr. Ambassador, but they had their chance, and they spit in our faces.”
Raisa said, “That is no excuse to simply abandon them.”
“What more excuse could we possibly need?”
Nan gave Jas a withering look of her own. “I wasn’t aware we were in need of one, Jas—I thought it was what we did naturally.”
Jas was silent.
Turning to T’Latrek, Nan asked, “What do you think, Councillor?”
“I think removing the Remans from Romulus would defeat one of the primary goals of having the Klingons act as the
Remans’ protector—uniting the Romulan factions.”
“Since when do we want that?” Jas asked. “A united Romulan front hardly benefits the Federation.”
“The benefits to the Federation are irrelevant,” T’Latrek said.
“She’s right,” Nan said before Jas could object. “A united Romulus will benefit the Romulan people—that’s what I’m concerned about. If what happened on Remus today really was an accident, it happened because there isn’t anyone maintaining the machinery down there. Weakened central authority—and Tal’Aura’s authority is pretty damn weak—means this sort of thing is gonna keep happening, and the victims won’t be the military, they won’t be the politicians trying to angle for a senate seat now that the old senate’s been turned to pixie dust—they’ll be the Romulan people.”
Another silence descended upon the room, before Akaar finally spoke. “Although the councillor’s theory is sound—indeed, it was one of Captain Riker’s selling points of the plan—it has not been working in practice. The parties are not talking, because they are blaming each other for attacks on Klingons, or they are blaming the Klingons, or blaming the Remans. Their attention is focused—but not on what is important.”
Nan turned to her chief of staff. “Esperanza?”
“I think Ambassador Spock is right. When slavery ended in the country of the United States here on Earth five hundred years ago, the government didn’t just tell them, ‘You’re free,’ and leave it at that. Slave families—who worked on large farms—were given a segment of land and a farm animal from their armed forces that they could call their own. But it didn’t work very well in practice, and the law that gave them that land was revoked. It was centuries before the former slaves were able to achieve proper equality with their former masters.”
Chuckling, Nan said, “So you’re saying the forty acres and a mule in Ehrie’fvil isn’t working either?”
“No, ma’am. It was a good idea, truly, but the Romulans and Remans aren’t holding up their end. We need new options here.”
“This doesn’t change the fact that the Remans don’t want our help,” Jas said. “So we find them a world, so what? How do we get them to it without annoying the Klingons?”
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