Hostetler Richman said, “It depends on what the goal is—they may have been more interested in the long-term effects on Klorgat IV than doing short-term harm to the Remans. That’d be consistent with the usual Romulan MO.” She smiled. “Besides, blowing up a moon, especially in secret, isn’t exactly a precision maneuver. They may have intended it to go off sooner than it did—or later—but something went wrong.”
Ashanté looked over at the president, who sat with her left arm folded under her right elbow, her right hand on her chin. After sitting silently for a moment, the president said, “I think we need to investigate this.”
Abrik started to say, “Ma’am, the Klingons—”
“No, Jas, I mean, we need to investigate this. There’s a third reason why the Romulans might want to do damage to the Klingons and the Remans, and that’s to start a war with the Klingons. Nothing unites a fractured people faster than getting them behind a war effort.”
“It would be consistent with past Romulan behavior,” T’Latrek pointed out. “Thirty-six years ago, Praetor Dralath ordered an attack on the Klingon world of Narendra III. It was an attempt to rally his people behind a war with the Klingons in order to stave off the economic depravations of his administration.”
Shostakova said, “That type of thinking is consistent with the reports we have been getting regarding Admiral Mendak.”
“The last report we have of Mendak’s activities,” Hostetler Richman said, “from about a month ago has his fleet on a course that could take them to Klorgat. Of course, it could also take him to half a dozen other places that are actually in Romulan or neutral space, and he could easily change course.”
“I take it that Praetor Tal’Aura is still denying any responsibility for Mendak’s actions?”
Nodding, Shostakova said, “Our latest report from Ambassador Spock indicated that Mendak has officially been declared a criminal, and that any Romulan soldiers who see him are to shoot him on sight.”
Abrik rolled his eyes. “That just means they want deniability. He hasn’t done anything that’s actually hurt Tal’Aura in any way—just the other factions.”
Bacco looked at T’Latrek. “What do you think?”
T’Latrek raised an eyebrow. “I believe that any attempt to speculate would be foolish without the benefit of an investigation.”
“Me, too. I’m gonna talk to K’mtok when I get back. Meanwhile, I want an S.C.E. team going over that moon with a fine-tooth comb.”
“The da Vinci is in the area. They’ll be able to tell us exactly what happened.”
Ashanté hoped that Ross’s confidence was well placed. On the other hand, she had heard nothing but good things about the Starfleet Corps of Engineers and their ability to solve the insoluble, which this little mystery was shaping up to be.
“Good,” Bacco said with another nod. “Ambassador Rozhenko, while I’m selling this to K’mtok, you sell it to the High Council. I don’t want anyone going off half-cocked until we know for sure what happened.”
“Of course, ma’am. As it turns out, I’m having dinner with Martok and several councillors tonight, so we can talk about it then.”
Esperanza chuckled. “ ‘As it turns out’?”
Rozhenko just smiled back.
Ashanté shook her head. She had been leery of the notion of appointing someone so young, with minimal diplomatic experience, to replace Worf as Federation ambassador, but Alexander Rozhenko of the House of Martok had proven as adept as his father at bridging the gap between the two cultures.
“Let’s do this right, people,” Bacco said.
Several of those in the Monet Room thanked her, and the screen went dark.
“Thanks everyone,” Bacco then said to the other three, then she looked right at Esperanza. “Now then, you wanted to talk to me about Xeldara’s replacement?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh,” Bacco said to Ashanté, “and tell that husband of yours that he did a fine job with the speech.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ashanté said hesitantly.
Bacco smiled. “Let me guess, he spent the entire walk from Squyres to the spaceport whining about the way I changed some of the phraseology.”
“Just one, ma’am. When you added in ‘well.’ ”
“Well, you tell Fred that the holoprompter glitched for a moment, and I was just trying to cover it.”
Ashanté blinked. “Really, ma’am? Because it didn’t come across that way—you covered very well.”
“Nah, it didn’t glitch—I just changed the phrasing. But I want you to tell Fred that to shut him up.”
“That’s a battle I gave up three years before we got married, ma’am.”
“Fair point. Now then, who’ve we got in mind for the new deputy?”
Chapter Seventeen
CADET KARIN NOOSAR tried not to fidget in her seat. This year, as with most years, the Academy graduating class was having its commencement in Golden Gate Park. It was a cool, pleasant day in San Francisco, as it often was even without aid from the weather net, with the sun shining down on the grass and trees and the blindingly white dress uniform worn by Admiral Bernard McTigue, the Academy superintendent.
Normally, Karin didn’t mind listening to Superintendent McTigue speak. Tall, elegant, and well spoken, he had a dry wit, friendly demeanor, and sharp mind.
But Karin had been listening to McTigue since his appointment three years ago. Today, in addition to throwing off the title of cadet in favor of ensign, she and the rest of the class of ’80 were going to have their commencement address delivered by none other than President Nan Bacco herself.
Karin had grown up on several different Federation worlds, with most of her teen years being spent on CestusIII. While there, she had gone to one of then-Governor Bacco’s town meetings as part of a class assignment. She had gone in there a bored thirteen-year-old hoping just to stay awake for the whole thing; she’d come out with a tremendous respect for Nan Bacco and a desire to grow up to be just like her.
That ambition had tempered as she’d gotten older and realized that it was Starfleet, rather than politics, that was her true calling, but her admiration for Bacco had never flagged, and Karin had actually done a little bit of campaigning for her—as much as had been possible, what with her studies—when she’d run against Fel Pagro for president. It had been difficult, since most of her classmates had actually been for Pagro, though some had changed their tune when Admiral Ross had come out for Bacco.
Now, Karin failed in her attempt not to fidget as she waited for McTigue to shut the hell up and let President Bacco talk.
At last, the superintendent said, “And now, cadets—who will not be cadets much longer—I am especially proud to present to you all your commencement speaker, President Nanietta Bacco.”
Thunderous applause echoed off the surrounding trees of the park as the small-but-impressive-looking white-haired woman approached the podium. She shook McTigue’s hand, then turned to look out at the throng of Karin’s class. Karin thought, oddly, that she looked smaller than she had nine years earlier, though that was probably due to her being farther away. The town hall used for her gubernatorial town meetings was much smaller than a San Francisco park, after all.
“ ‘Ex astris, scientia.’ Those words are on that flag over there.” The president pointed at the Academy flag, which hung on a pole right next to the other pole that had the Federation flag. “It’s from an old human language called Latin. Nobody’s spoken it conversationally for several hundred years, mind you, but we like to trot it out every once in a while to make ourselves sound more interesting. It means, ‘From the stars, knowledge.’ Which makes it kind of a funny motto for a place that has you spending the bulk of your time right here on Earth.”
Karin smiled. She remembered some of her friends from the class of ’79, all of whom had been dreading the commencement speech, which had been given by the novelist H’jn Sowell, a great writer but an awful public speaker. The year before that, it ha
d been some ship captain or other, who had been even more boring. We lucked out in that department.
“The thing about the stars is that they do provide knowledge—but that comes with a concomitant risk. Nothing underlines that risk more than the fact that you are the first Academy class in quite a while to have gone through your entire tenure at the Academy when the Federation wasn’t at war. And that, my friends, is something to be celebrated, because the classes before yours either came as first-years when we were at war, or were cadets when the war was declared, or joined when they thought war was pretty damn likely. But you all are the first to come through without that particular Damoclean sword hanging over your collective heads.”
Two of the cadets—neither of them human—gave each other confused looks, only to have the cadets on either side of them explain about the Sword of Damocles.
“There’s an old human saying—not in Latin, you’ll be happy to know—that says that knowledge is power, and another one that says that power corrupts. Since its founding two hundred and nineteen years ago, the Federation has tried to bring a message of hope and of knowledge to the galaxy. The galaxy, unfortunately, hasn’t always been impressed. We may not be at war anymore, but the possibility always, tragically, exists. The people who sat in those seats seven years ago were embroiled in a war six months later when the Dominion took Deep Space 9.
“But the purpose of Starfleet isn’t to fight the Federation’s wars. That is their task—and that might be your task—when it’s required, but it’s important for all of you to remember that it is a last resort, not a first one. Starfleet was formed when the Federation was, but it grew out of Earth’s space exploration arm, and they had a Latin motto too: ad astra per aspera. It means ‘to the stars for hope.’ And every time we go to the stars, we’re filled with hope—no matter how many times it would be better to be filled with dread. Their job then, and your job now, is to seek out new life and new civilizations. Some of those will be like the Klingons or the Romulans or the Cardassians or the Tzenkethi or the Tholians, none of whom were kindly disposed to us at first, and some of whom still aren’t. Some of those will be like Bajor or Evora or Cairn or Delta Sigma IV, all of whom joined the Federation in the last decade. Regardless of who you do meet out there, though, you will bring the hope of peace.”
Bacco smiled then. “It sounds funny, doesn’t it? You’ll be flying around in ships that have sufficient weaponry to lay waste to a planet—not really much of a peaceful message, is it? When we’ve had to, we have fought, and we have bled, and we have suffered, but it’s because with this Federation, we’ve found something that’s worth fighting for, worth bleeding for, worth suffering for, and yes, worth dying for. And we’ve also found that the hope we come to the stars for must be tempered with a willingness to defend what we have, because if we don’t, there are plenty of people all over the galaxy who’d be more than happy to take it away from us.
“Every day I go down to the first floor of the Palais de la Concorde, and there are over a hundred and fifty people in there. Each one is from a wholly different world than the person in the next chair, and both are from worlds wholly different from the person in the chair behind them. Yet they come together, they argue together, they discuss together, and they work together to make this Federation better than it already is. It would be easy to fall into old patterns. Before the Federation formed, Vulcan fought against Andorian, Tellarite fought against Klingon, human fought against Xindi, Romulan fought against pretty much everybody. But now, worlds stand together instead of apart.
“I’ve always had tremendous respect for Starfleet. My chief of staff and my security advisor are former officers. Some of our finest presidents are former Starfleet—Lorne McLaren, Thelian, T’Pragh. Still, I never really understood their importance until something that happened during the war.”
Karin tensed a bit. She had moved off Cestus III by the time the war started, but she was pretty sure she knew what Bacco was about to talk about.
“When the war was getting particularly bad, Starfleet sent the U.S.S. Enterprise to talk to the Gorn, see if they could be convinced to ally with us against the Dominion. Turns out their timing was pretty spectacularly awful, since Starfleet arrived just in time for a coup d’état on the Gorn homeworld. The new regime sent ships to Cestus III and actually occupied the planet for a while. In the end, though, we were saved, because the Enterprise was able to stop the violence and convince the Gorn not to count us as their enemy. They didn’t do it by force, they didn’t do it by blowing Gorn ships out of the sky, though both things did occur out of necessity. But even with a war on, even with the powerful arsenal the Enterprise had at its disposal, their captain and crew were able to negotiate a settlement and bring the Gorn into the war. It was a show, not of force but of ideas that led to the Gorn signing a treaty with the Federation, which they signed in my office in Pike City.
“Starfleet is the glue that holds the Federation together. The responsibility you each have now is to maintain this little miracle that we’ve kept going for over two centuries, through tumult and strife, through feast and famine, through war and peace. It will be difficult. All of you will face hard choices in the years ahead, if history’s any guide—and it usually is. But throughout it all, you must remember that it is from the stars that you find knowledge, it is from the stars that you find hope, and it is from the stars that you will find peace.
“I’d wish you luck, but I suspect you will not need it. Simply continue to do well. Thank you.”
Karin wasn’t sure if she was the first one to her feet when the president finished, but she liked to imagine she was—and that she was also the last one to sit down several minutes later when the applause finally died down.
She thought about what Bacco said about past presidents who were Starfleet officers first. Lorne McLaren, she knew, was a twenty-third-century president who’d run after the pressures of the Klingon conflict and the Organian Peace Treaty had led Kenneth Wescott not to seek another term; McLaren had negotiated the historic agreement with the Kelvans. Thelian had served during the early days of contact with the Cardassians, and T’Pragh had served during the Tzenkethi War.
Smiling, Cadet—soon to be Ensign—Karin Noosar thought, Maybe I will go into politics some day after all.
August 2380
“It is better to discuss things, to argue and engage in polemics than make perfidious plans of mutual destruction.”
—Mikhail Gorbachev
Chapter Eighteen
“GOOD EVENING. This is Illuminating the City of Light, I’m your host, Velisa. Tomorrow night, the second attempt at welcoming the Trinni/ek to the Federation will be made. This time, rather than a state dinner, Speaker Ytri/ol of the Trinni/ek will be meeting with the Federation Council on the first floor of the Palais. Tonight on ICL, we’ll be examining what led to this change of heart on the Trinni/ek’s part, as well as other business on the council’s agenda over the course of the remainder of the session.
“With me tonight to discuss these issues are Artrin na Yel, former councillor from Triex; Gora Yed, the new Palais correspondent from Seeker; Safranski, the secretary of the exterior; and, remotely from the U.S.S. Io, Commander Thérèse Su, first officer of that vessel. Welcome, all of you.”
“Thank you.”
“Thanks, Velisa.”
“Thanks.”
“Glad to be here.”
“Commander Su, I’d like to start by asking you your impression of the Trinni/ek, both the first time you met them earlier this year, and your trip back a month ago.”
“Honestly, the two impressions weren’t any different. The Trinni/ek we spoke to on both trips were curious, friendly, and eager to open diplomatic relations.”
“When they stormed out of the Palais three months ago, were you surprised?”
“To be honest, I watched the FNS footage, and I didn’t recognize anybody from the Io’s trip to Trinni/ek—and neither did Captain T’Vrea or anyone else on the s
hip. It was like they were replaced with cranky duplicates.”
“What was the reaction when you returned?”
“The same as before, only very apologetic. Speaker Ytri/ol didn’t know what happened and was sure that the Federation hated them. They were scared that when we came back we were there to attack them, and were very relieved to find out that we didn’t hold a grudge.”
“Safranski, do you think that this second trip will be more productive than the first?”
“It could hardly be less productive, Velisa. The Trinni/ek’s reaction was what I would expect from a Chalnoth delegation, not a civilized race that Commander Su’s CO referred to as ‘friendly,’ which isn’t an adjective Vulcans use lightly. Assuming that what happened in May is an aberration, then I have every confidence in the ability of the president and the council to welcome them into the galactic community.”
“And if it isn’t an aberration?”
“Then you’ll have a lot to talk about on your first show after the meeting.”
“Fair enough. Speaking of the council, several items are on the agenda before the council goes into recess at the end of the month. One of those is a case for the judiciary council involving the Daystrom Institute, where one of the institute’s scientists is petitioning to have an android under the institute’s care dismantled. Others are insisting that the android, which is called B-4, has the same rights as any other living being. Artrin, you’re no longer on the judiciary council, but surely you have some opinions on this?”
“I do, yes, Velisa. First of all, it should be pointed out that the jurisdictional issues are still being worked out. Daystrom is jointly operated by the Federation government and Starfleet. There has been some question about who should hear the dispute—Starfleet’s Judge Advocate General or the judiciary council.”
“But in the past, hasn’t it been Starfleet?”
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