Natalia looked at her fiancé like he had grown a third limb. “Do you know when the last time Martinez gave up a run is?”
After thinking about it for a second, Tim said, “No.”
“Me either. That’s how long it’s been since she’s given up a run.”
“It’s not like we’ve followed the Seagulls all that closely. Maybe she gave up three runs her last time out and we don’t know about it.”
“You know, it’s usually Prairieview fans who deny reality this much. Martinez coming in to pitch means the game’s over.”
Shrugging, Tim said, “We’ve got the two, three, and four guys up.”
Natalia rolled her eyes. “Right—Farouk, who hasn’t gotten on base all year, Addison, who hits against Martinez even worse than the rest of the world, and as for Yates—Yates is past it. Yates is so far past it he’s on another planet. In fact, he’s about three star systems over, that’s how far past it Yates is. I don’t know why Diaz keeps batting him cleanup. He should retire and let Hayakawa get more playing time.”
The Pioneer Pub had come into existence about five years earlier, and during baseball season, it was always one of Pike City’s hot spots. The walls were covered in memorabilia from the Pike City Pioneers’ decade-long history: The first home-run ball hit after the CBL was incorporated, slugged by the Pioneers’ Aloysius McSweeney in the bottom of the ninth to win their first game against the Palombo Sehlats; the dirt-covered uniform worn by Illyana Petrova when she stole home to win the first Cestus Series for the Pioneers over the Prairieville Green Sox, the first of many disappointments for Green Sox fans; the shards of the bat broken when Hugues Baptiste blooped a single to center to win the Northern Division championship against the Port Shangri-La Seagulls; a chunk of Ruth Field that was blown off by Gorn weaponry when they attacked Pike City during the war; and the glove that Blaithin Lipinski wore when she threw her fifth career perfect game, this one against the Cestus Comets.
There were also three items from the various baseball leagues on Earth in the nineteenth through twenty-first centuries: the glove used by Josh Gibson when he played for the Homestead Grays in 1930, Babe Ruth’s jersey from when he played for the minor-league Baltimore Orioles in 1914, and the ball hit into the center-field seats of Yankee Stadium by Buck Bokai to win the last World Series on Earth for the London Kings in 2042.
Tim and Natalia had entertained the notion of attending today’s game, but that had been a forlorn hope. Games between the Pioneers and their toughest division rival, the Seagulls, were always hot-ticket items, and so there had been no available seats at Ruth Field. So they’d come to the Pub to watch it with fellow fans.
Sadly, today’s game wasn’t much fun to watch. The Gulls had shut the Pioneers out, negating strong pitching performances by the Pioneers. As a result, it was 2-0 Gulls going into the bottom of the ninth, and the Gulls’ best reliever, Faith Martinez, was in.
However, nobody told Yusuf Farouk that she was their best reliever—he drew a walk on six pitches. Then Nancy Addison fisted a single to left field, putting two on for Kornelius Yates. He’d been the Pioneers’ cleanup hitter since the league had been incorporated ten years earlier, and Tim had to admit that Natalia was right when she said that his skills had deteriorated to the point where he probably wasn’t a viable cleanup hitter anymore. Still, he wasn’t ready to be put out to pasture yet—
—a point Yates himself made rather spectacularly by clubbing Martinez’s first pitch over the center-field wall for a three-run home run to win the game.
The pub, which had been as silent as a tomb since the sixth inning, when the Gulls had scored their two runs, suddenly burst into life. People were shouting, hugging each other, yelling, banging their drinks glasses together, and generally acting the idiotic way people do when they celebrate.
From behind the bar, Gordon the bartender said the words everyone liked to hear: “Homebrews all around!” The Homebrew was the Pub’s spécialité de la maison, and Gordon only served it when the Pioneers won.
Moments later, Tim was slugging down his Homebrew and asking Gordon if they could put FNS on.
“What for?” the bartender asked.
“They’re gonna be talking about Governor Bacco on ICL.”
Natalia almost sputtered her Homebrew. “They always talk about her on ICL, and it’s President Bacco now, remember?”
“I’m trying not to. I can’t believe she’d abandon us like that. Best governor this planet ever had, and she dumps us to go gallivant around the Federation.”
“Hey, c’mon,” Natalia said, punching him gently on the shoulder. “At least she came back to throw out the first pitch.”
Gordon added, “Yeah, I heard she had to completely screw around her itinerary to make sure she was here on the right day.” Moving over to the control for the big screen, he said, “Anyhow, I’ll put it on if you want, but if we get complaints, down it comes.” He entered some commands, which would provide the FNS feed from the beginning of tonight’s Illuminating the City of Light installment.
“Fair enough.” Tim raised his Homebrew glass in acknowledgment of Gordon’s kindness.
Natalia stared at Tim. “You didn’t use to care about Federation politics all that much.”
“I don’t—I care about Governor Bacco. Sorry, President Bacco. I want to know what she’s doing that’s so great that she had to abandon us.”
“Oh, for crying out loud, Tim, she didn’t ‘abandon’ anything.”
The screen switched from the postgame highlights to an image of five people sitting around a desk. The host was the usual Kriosian woman, Velisa, and sitting on the far left was Fred MacDougan, who’d been part of Bacco’s staff forever. Tim didn’t recognize the other three—a human woman, a Gnalish man, and a Bolian man. Several people in the Pub muttered complaints, but nothing too loud, mostly relating to interrupting the highlight reel. One person pointed out that the game only had one highlight worth watching, and they just saw it two minutes ago.
“Good evening. This is Illuminating the City of Light. I’m your host, Velisa. Tomorrow is the state dinner at the Palais de la Concorde as President Bacco and the Federation Council welcome the delegation from Trinni/ek, on the heels of the president’s highly successful goodwill tour of several Federation planets, incuding her homeworld of Cestus III.”
That mention prompted a ragged cheer from the patrons of the Pioneer Pub.
“With me tonight to discuss these issues are Fred MacDougan, chief speechwriter for President Bacco; FNS’s own Regia Maldonado; Councillor Gorus Gelemingar of Gnala; and author of The Ripple Effect: Trials and Tribulations of First Contacts, retired Starfleet Captain Rixx. Welcome, all of you. Fred, as one of the president’s chief policy advisors, what is your take on the Trinni/ek state dinner?”
Fred, a bald-headed man with a hawk nose, laughed at that. “I wouldn’t go so far as to call myself a chief policy advisor. At best, I occasionally have her ear, but she usually just yells at me and tells me to stop being an idiot.”
Several of the panelists laughed at that. So did many of the Pub patrons—they knew of Bacco’s occasionally scathing style.
“As for the state dinner, my take is that it’s a great opportunity. Although it was a policy instituted under a previous administration, President Bacco has been a huge proponent of the Luna-class program, going back to when it was first floated almost ten years ago. Seeking out new life and new civilizations has always been the Federation’s mantra.”
“Yes,” Gelemingar said, “and we all know that a planetary governor’s support makes all the difference in a program initiated by Starfleet Command.”
Fred frowned. “That wasn’t my point, Councillor, I—”
“Of course it was your point. You were making a feeble attempt to attach the president to the tail of a program that she had absolutely nothing to do with. It was Captain T’Vrea and her crew who made the first contact, and the Diplomatic Corps who had the subsequent meetings that are
leading to this state dinner. The president’s contribution to this endeavor consists of making a toast that you will be writing for her.”
The Gnalish’s words led to booing from the Pub.
“None of which was the point of what I said, Councillor,” Fred said with a sweet smile. “I was asked for my take on it, and what I said was that it was a great opportunity. Which it is. The Trinni/ek are a hardy civilization that survived the destruction of their homeworld’s sun and forged a new life on a new world. They suffered the greatest catastrophe imaginable for a single-planet society, and they won.”
“And I’m sure you and the rest of her staff are hoping that having her image on FNS alongside these hardy survivors will erase the memory of twenty-nine dead Remans and three dead Starfleet officers.”
More boos. Tim couldn’t believe this guy was actually trying to blame Bacco for what happened to those Remans. They’d committed suicide after Bacco had offered them asylum—how was that her fault? She’d done the right thing; it was the Remans who had spit in her eye.
Regia Maldonado, the woman from FNS, spoke up then. “Oh come on, Gorus, that’s laying it on a little thick, don’t you think? Those Remans killed themselves. President Bacco’s not to blame for it.”
“She refused to help them when they needed it.”
Fred rolled his eyes. “She hadn’t refused anything yet.”
“Oh, and you were in those meetings, were you?” Gelemingar asked. “I was, since I’m actually on the security council, and I can assure you that the president had no intention of granting those Remans asylum, despite being implored to do so by myself, by Starfleet, and by her closest advisors.”
Velisa pursed her lips. “That’s a very strong accusation, Councillor.”
The Gnalish folded his scaled hands on the desk. “I but speak the truth.”
More boos at that, as well as cries of, “Get him outta there!” and the like.
Maldonado smiled and held up a padd that Tim hadn’t noticed before. “It’s interesting that you say that—yesterday parts of the security council session were unsealed.”
Fred grinned. “You weren’t at yesterday’s council session, were you, Councillor?”
“I was in transit from Gnala.” The tone in Gelemingar’s voice sounded to Tim like someone had just told him his mother was sick.
Now reading the padd’s display, Maldonado said, “Well, according to the transcript, President Bacco listened to all the options, it was a Starfleet officer who actually first proposed the notion that the Remans had ulterior motives, and you’re completely silent. Councillors T’Latrek, Mazibuko, Gleer, Tomorok, and Krim all contributed to the discussion, but no record of any imploring by you. Were they made during the parts that have remained sealed for security reasons, perhaps?”
Now the Pub was filled with cheers. “If that woman’s ever on Cestus,” Gordon said, “she gets a Homebrew no matter who won that day.”
Tim smiled. The only people who ever got Homebrew when it wasn’t right after a Pioneers win were Nan Bacco and any Pioneers players or staffers who came by, so that promise indicated the depths of Gordon’s happiness with the reporter’s skewering of the Gnalish councillor.
“The president,” Gelemingar said in that same mother’s-sick voice, “is aware of my feelings on the matter.”
“We’ve gotten a bit off the subject,” Velisa said, prompting some jeers from the crowd, who wanted to see Gelemingar get some more of what was coming to him. “Captain Rixx, what can you tell us about the Trinni/ek, and do you think that an ongoing relationship with the Federation is in our future—possibly even membership?”
The old Bolian smiled. “We are getting very far ahead of ourselves, Velisa. First contacts come in many different shapes and sizes. The Trinni/ek are, based on the reports from the Io, a very friendly people—and they also have the capability of traveling faster than light. They had never encountered any other sentient species, but the galaxy is a big place.”
“Do you feel optimistic about the future of relations between the Federation and the Trinni/ek?”
Rixx smiled, bunching up the ridge that ran down the center of his face. “Well, the Io’s captain is a Vulcan, and they are not known for exaggeration. If she says they’re friendly, they probably are.”
Maldonado, Cestus III’s new hero, said, “It doesn’t hurt that Trinni/ek has a lot of medicinal plants and minerals that are of use—hovrat grows there, as does semtek, and they’ve got uridium, some dilithium, topaline, and, best of all, kellinite.”
Velisa smiled. “Are you saying that President Bacco’s motive for trading with the Trinni/ek is to make up for the loss of Aligar as a trading partner, Regia?”
Before Maldonado could respond, Fred spoke up. “That isn’t the reason, Velisa, mainly because Aligar no longer being a trading partner is not a loss. That trade arrangement was long overdue for cessation. And as for Trinni/ek, that’s just a fortuitous side effect.”
“Yes,” Gelemingar said, “but I’m sure this president will hammer that point home.”
“It’s what we do,” Fred said with another sweet smile.
“You’re certainly doing it now. What’s next, declaring war on Aligar?”
Before Fred could reply, Velisa said, “Councillor, you have gone on record as opposing President Bacco’s just-completed goodwill tour.”
“Yes. It was an unconscionable waste of time, forcing her to be absent from several important council sessions. The president needs to be present at the seat of government, or she risks losing all touch with the process.”
“I can’t agree,” Maldonado said. “President Bacco’s tour is a continuation of something she did while she was governor of Cestus III.”
The entire pub cheered, drowning out the rest of Maldonado’s statement, but from what Tim could hear over the noise, she was just explaining about Bacco’s town meetings.
“What possible use,” Gelemingar asked, “could that be?”
Fred chuckled. “Call me crazy, but it seems to me that a government that doesn’t listen to the people isn’t much of a government.”
“Very well then, I shall call you crazy,” Gelemingar said, prompting more boos from the pub. “The people spoke when they elected me councillor. If they decide they dislike the job I’m doing, they can vote for someone else when my term expires. If they like it, they will reelect me. That is how the process works.”
Leaning back in his chair and putting his hand to his chin, Fred said, “I find it interesting, Councillor, that you say that it’s so unconscionable, considering that just five minutes ago you revealed that you missed an entire council session in which the vote to unseal the record of a session you participated in took place. The only person in this discussion that’s lost all touch with the process is you.”
“All right,” Gordon said over the cheers that followed that statement. “He gets a Homebrew, too.”
Tim said, “He’s local, you know—been on Bacco’s staff since she was a representative.”
“Really?” Gordon sounded surprised.
Fred was still talking. “Meanwhile, President Bacco has talked with the people of Ventax II, of Lembatta Prime, of Taurus III, of New Paris, of Kessik IV, and, yes, of Cestus III about their concerns.”
A few whoops at the mention of the homeworld.
“Did you know, Councillor, that the New Parisians have been trying to get a new medical treatment approved? It’s a treatment for Irumodic Syndrome that they’ve had excellent results with. Unfortunately, they haven’t been able to get the attention of anyone in the FMA.” To Velisa, Fred added, “The president intends to talk with the head of the FMA and Starfleet Medical and see what—”
Gelemingar interrupted. “Incredible. Mr. MacDougan, neither the FMA nor Starfleet Medical nor the Federation government has time for such nonsense, and I’m amazed that the president would create an agenda based on a conversation in a large hall.”
It was Maldonado who said, “Actual
ly, that wasn’t what she based it on. I was part of the press tour that accompanied the president, and she went after the meeting to a local hospital and saw the results. It’s definitely worth pursuing if it means the possibility of a cure for all the humans over the age of eighty who suffer from the disease.”
“If it works.” Gelemingar now sounded sulky.
Rixx laughed again. “And how is that to be determined if it isn’t tried, Councillor?”
At that, Gelemingar was finally silenced. “Take that!” one of the crowd cried. After a second, Tim realized that it was Natalia.
“Can we please turn this crap off?” someone else asked. “If I wanna be put to sleep, I’ll watch a Cubs game.”
Tim and Natalia and several others laughed. The New Chicago Cubs were the only franchise who, due to their city name, were allowed to use a team name from the city on Earth after which they were named. The Chicago Cubs were one of the longest-running franchises on Earth, having been one of the charter members of the National League in 1876, and remaining in that league until Major League Baseball died on Earth in 2042. That team had a history of perennial failure, leavened by occasional bursts of success; their namesakes on Cestus III had only managed the first part so far, as they had remained at the bottom of the Northern Division standings for a decade.
“All right, all right,” Gordon said and turned FNS off.
Tim looked at Natalia. “Wanna go get some dinner?”
Natalia smiled. “Sure. How about we go to that new Bajoran restaurant. I hear that Kornelius Yates likes to eat there after games. Maybe we can catch him.”
Smiling right back, Tim said, “Sure.”
Chapter Fourteen
ESPERANZA STARED AT HERSELF in the floor-length mirror in her bedroom and tried to recognize the person looking back at her.
“You look great.” Xeldara Trask’s face was on the viewer on her bedroom desk.
She couldn’t really deny Xeldara’s words. The general Palais protocol for state dinners required attendees to wear whatever was considered formal wear on their homeworlds. For Esperanza, as well as Fred, Ashanté, several members of the speechwriting staff, and the president herself, that meant following the traditions of Cestus III—or, at least, Nan Bacco’s interpretations of them. Her outfit, which hadn’t been worn regularly on Cestus III since before the president was born, included a dark red high-necked jacket that was fastened all the way to the top—the top, in this case, being the ribbed neck of the jacket that went all the way up to her jawline, hugging her neck and impairing her ability to breathe. The main part of the jacket was made of velvet. At the bottom, the jacket flared outward to just below the pelvis. Under that, she wore dark blue conformer leggings that hewed to the shape of her legs down to the ankle. She also wore her hair loose, which marked the first occasion in ages when she was doing it where people could see it.
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