"Slaves, Esperanza. They use slaves."

That caught the chief of staff off guard. "I-I didn't know."

"Well, I did know-you know how I knew? Those jacka.s.ses tried to peddle their kellinite to us on Cestus right after I became governor. I was all set to do it, too-we needed to upgrade our planetary defenses-but we did a little research and found out that they oppressed ninety percent of their society. That's not a typo-ninety percent. Nine out of every ten people on Aligar is owned by one-tenth of the population. What the h.e.l.l is the Federation doing getting involved with these people?"

Esperanza let out a breath through her teeth. This wasn't going to be easy to explain. "It was war, ma'am, we- "

The president rolled her eyes. "Oh, for the love of everything, Esperanza, do not drag out the 'It was war, you civilians can't possibly understand' Starfleet c.r.a.p. I know there was a war on. I was there when it happened, and on top of that, I had a bunch of Gorns decide to blow my capital city into tiny pieces, so kindly don't lecture me about the sacrifices you need to make during wartime."

Esperanza closed her eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I didn't mean- "

"Yeah, you did, and you know you did-and I don't mind the perspective, it's the att.i.tude I have a problem with. Like you know better than anyone 'cause you were in Starfleet. I think you and I are both pretty cognizant of the fact that there are plenty of screwups we can lay at Starfleet's doorstep."

"Yes, ma'am." Esperanza saw no reason to argue-besides, there were bigger fish to fry. "If we can- "

But the president hadn't let this out of her teeth yet. "I understand why we had to deal with the Aligar during the war-desperate times, desperate measures, strange bed-fellows, and whatever other d.a.m.n wartime cliche you want to throw at me-but the war's been over for four years. Is there any compellingly good reason why we should be setting aside our principles now? Or has it just become second nature?"

"No, ma'am," Esperanza said after a brief pause, "and I think you should make that argument tomorrow. But, ma'am, there's something else-something more important. Actually, several somethings."

The president sighed. "I don't suppose this can wait until after I get back from the moon."

"No, ma'am."

President Bacco leaned back in her chair. "No, of course not, because if it could, you wouldn't have come in here. What is it?"

"Well, first of all, Jas will be giving you a briefing in about half an hour-probably while you're on the shuttle. They've picked up weapons fire in Romulan s.p.a.ce, and they think it's a dustup with some Klingons."

President Bacco put her head in her hands. "h.e.l.l and d.a.m.nation. Do we know anything for sure yet?"

"No, ma'am-that's what Jas is supposed to tell us in half an hour."

"Does it have to do with those refugees we think are heading for Outpost 22?"

"No, ma'am-it's in a completely different sector."

"Small favors." The president leaned forward. "Have someone get in touch with Amba.s.sador Rozhenko on Qo'noS, and have someone else get me a location on Amba.s.sador K'mtok, in case we need to get him here in a hurry. And keep T'Latrek, Mazibuko, and Molmaan around."

Esperanza understood the need to talk to both Rozhenko and K'mtok-the Federation amba.s.sador to the Klingons and the Klingon amba.s.sador to the Federation, respectively-as well as Councillors T'Latrek and Mazibuko, who represented Vulcan and Earth and were the chair and second chair of the external affairs council. The third councillor the president listed, though, didn't seem to fit. "Why Molmaan?"

"Zalda's got the unlucky position of being right near the Klingon border and the Romulan border. It's one of the reasons why they were fast-tracked into Federation membership a hundred years ago-they kept having wrecked ships from both sides crash-land on their planet. So Zalda in general's always kept an eye on both empires, for their own self-interest. And I know that Molmaan has serious opinions on the subject."

Esperanza smiled. If there was one thing Nan Bacco respected and admired-and liked to make use of-it was people with serious opinons. Then again, Zaldans were never shy with their opinions, serious or otherwise. They had a cultural bias against politeness, which generally meant that Zaldans produced very entertaining politicians. Molmaan fit that mold. It's gonna be an interesting meeting when we all get together....

Then the president looked down at the desk. "Coffee, black, unsweetened." A steaming mug materialized on the center of the desk. As she picked it up by the handle, she said, "Bring Ross in, too."

"I've already talked to Ross-he's bringing Akaar over from San Francisco."

"Who?"

"Fleet Admiral Leonard Akaar. He was on site for the arrangement with the Klingons, and he just reported back after the t.i.tan's little trip outside the galaxy."

"All right, good."

Esperanza braced herself before saying, "Also- "

"There's more?" The president sounded pained.

"You knew the job was dangerous when you took it, ma'am."

"Remember what I said before about wisea.s.ses?"

"Yes, ma'am." Esperanza waited until the president took another sip of her coffee. "I'm not sure about this one. Z4 got a call from Amba.s.sador Emra."

The president frowned. "Which one's Emra?"

"The amba.s.sador from Tzenketh."

At that, President Bacco almost sputtered her coffee. "From Tzenketh?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"We have an amba.s.sador from Tzenketh?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She set her mug down. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Esperanza, but don't the Tzenkethi hate the Federation and everything it stands for? Didn't they react to our attempts to open trade agreements with them by starting a war? And hasn't every peace overture with them been treated with contempt and loathing on their part toward us?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And yet they sent an amba.s.sador." The president rose, still holding her coffee mug, and started to pace behind the desk, staring out at the view of Paris. "The things people do baffle the h.e.l.l out of me sometimes. All right, what did this Emra tell Ziff?"

Esperanza smirked. "You know he hates being called that, right?"

"Wouldn't call him that otherwise," the president said with a like smirk.

Getting back on track, Esperanza said, "Well, Emra and Ziff- " She shook her head. "He and Z4 have a history from an abortive attempt at opening up trade between Tzenketh and Nasat."

The president swallowed her coffee before saying derisively, "I'm sure that went resoundingly well."

"The thing is-he says that he needs to talk with you. Not with the council, but with you."

"What about?"

"All the amba.s.sador would say is that it has to do with the Tzelnira."

That got the president's attention. She whirled around and looked right at Esperanza. "The Tzelnira?"

This surprised Esperanza. She knew that Alberto had been a relief worker during the war before he married Annabella, but simple recognition didn't explain the president's reaction. "Yeah-why?"

"This morning, during the security briefing, Holly mentioned some chatter about one of the Tzelnira's children being sick."

Esperanza frowned. "You think this is related?"

The president shrugged. "Who the h.e.l.l knows?" She stared out the window again. "Why not just go to the council? He can request an audience when we're in session, same as any diplomat."

"Z4 asked that. He said he has enemies on the first floor."

"Oh, please." The president turned back around. "I have enemies on the first floor. What, does he think having that in common will unite us in a bond?" She moved back to her chair. "Still, set up an appointment for you to meet with him tomorrow and let me know."

Nodding, Esperanza said, "Fine. And if he insists on seeing you?"

The president smiled. "Remind him of the fact that I wasn't even aware of his existence until today, which should give him a fairly good idea of what level he's at on the food chain around here. He wants to see me, and he wants to go around the council, he's gotta do better than cryptic messages to my senior staff."

Esperanza stood up. "Will do, ma'am."

"Anything else?"

"Jorel made the announcement at the briefing about Delta and Carrea. I'm counting the microseconds before their amba.s.sadors and Eleana are crawling up my a.s.s."

"Thank you for that lovely image. Ashante and Z4 have their recommendations?"

Esperanza nodded. "Almost. They'll be waiting for you on the al-Rashid."

"Okay, then."

"Thank you, Madam President."

Chapter Six.

JAS ABRIK STARED AT the framed painting in the center of the wall opposite where he sat at the round table that took up most of the s.p.a.ce. The painting-Claude Monet's Bridge over a Pool of Water Lilies-was a treasure from Earth's pre-unification period. According to one of Abrik's aides, the style of painting was known as impressionism, so called because it conveyed the impression of something without rendering it slavishly. One could see the brush-strokes easily-in fact, they drew attention to themselves. And yet, combine them, and it looked just like a footbridge over a lily-laden stream. There was no mistaking it for anything else.

Also seated at the table were Admirals Ross and Akaar, Captain Hostetler Richman, and Secretary Shostakova. Akaar sat ramrod straight in a chair that barely fit his ma.s.sive form, huge arms folded over barrel chest. Abrik knew that the Capellan was some kind of royalty in exile or other, and he certainly had the att.i.tude for it; Abrik had always found the admiral to be a pompous a.s.s.

Ross was engaged in a whispered conversation with Hostetler Richman. Probably comparing intelligence notes. Ross did a great deal of work with Starfleet Intelligence as a junior officer, and in fact had been Hostetler Richman's mentor.

What the h.e.l.l is taking so long? Abrik thought as he gazed at the wall chronometer. Piniero and the councillors should have been here by now. At this rate, we may as well wait until Bacco's back on-planet.

Originally, the Monet Room was one of a dozen secure meeting rooms on one of the bas.e.m.e.nt levels of the Palais. During the Dominion War, many offices and operations were moved to the belowground s.p.a.ces, making it necessary to convert several of the other meeting rooms to office s.p.a.ce. This particular room had become Zife's "war room," where much of the top-level strategizing had been done. After the war's end, the Monet Room remained where the Federation government's security operations were conducted-or, at least, discussed.

"I have a question."

Abrik looked over at Shostakova, who was sitting quietly three chairs down from him. He pointed at his own chest. "Me?"

"Yes. Your spots-do they go all the way down?"

Abrik couldn't help it. He burst out laughing.

At the secretary of defense's nonplussed expression, he quickly said, "I'm sorry, Madam Secretary, but I haven't been asked that question since I was an ensign. Yes, they go all the way down."

She nodded. "Interesting. I wonder why that is."

Frowning, Abrik said, "Excuse me?"

"I simply wonder what quirk of evolution led to- "

Before Shostakova could continue her musings, the door opened to reveal Piniero, along with Councillors T'Latrek, Mazibuko, and Molmaan. They went for four of the empty seats, Piniero looking like a coiled spring, two of the councillors looking somewhat more calm, and the third looking angry. From T'Latrek, a Vulcan who had a reputation for grace under pressure, the calm was to be expected. Abrik didn't know Matthew Mazibuko all that well, so for all he knew, he had a reputation similar to T'Latrek's. As for Molmaan, the look of anger was to be expected from a member of a species who, as a rule, didn't hide their feelings.

"Sorry," Piniero said, "but the president only just took off from Luna-the function ran late."

"Someone could've told us that half an hour ago," Abrik muttered.

As she sat in her chair, Piniero smiled sweetly. "A half hour ago, we didn't know it was running late, and we were concerned that we'd lost contact with the president. It was just solar flares, though, and she's on her way back." She touched the intercom in front of her. "Zachary, we're here-put the president and the amba.s.sador through."

The wall opposite the Monet painting had a large viewscreen, which lit up with a split-screen image, Bacco on the left, Amba.s.sador Alexander Rozhenko on the right. Rozhenko was the son of two previous Federation amba.s.sadors to the Klingon Empire. One-quarter human and three-quarters Klingon, Rozhenko's parents were Worf, son of Mogh, and K'Ehleyr. Abrik wasn't entirely sanguine about his qualifications to replace his father, who had served with distinction for four years before declining to continue in the post, citing a desire to return to Starfleet. That was, to Abrik's mind, Starfleet's gain, but the Diplomatic Corps' loss. Worf was one of the few people who could navigate the treacherous waters of the Klingon-Federation alliance; K'Ehleyr, who served for only two years before she was brutally murdered during the transfer of power from Chancellor K'mpec to Chancellor Gowron over a decade earlier, was another of those few. They had to hope like h.e.l.l that Rozhenko had inherited at least some of his parents' skills.

"Do we have anything new?" Bacco asked, not wasting any time.

"A bit, ma'am," Hostetler Richman said. "Outpost 13 detected disruptor fire of both Klingon and Romulan design in the T'Met system, as well as at least three Klingon Karas-cla.s.s strike ships and one Romulan D'Deridex-cla.s.s warbird."

"So the Romulan military's getting into it with the Klingons. Who fired first?"

Hostetler Richman hesitated. Abrik did not. "We don't know, Madam President."

"Why the h.e.l.l not?"

Abrik managed to restrain himself from saying, Because sensors aren't magical detectors that read everything at all ranges, and if you had any hard experience of anything outside Cestus III, you'd know that. "The outpost's sensors have gaps, and one of those gaps is when the exchange of fire started. When the gap ends, both sides are going at it."

Hostetler Richman added, "Thirteen is the closest outpost to T'Met, but that doesn't mean it's exactly close, ma'am. There are limits to what we can detect."

Piniero asked Rozhenko, "Mr. Amba.s.sador, what's the High Council saying?"

"Nothing yet-they're waiting for a report from Captain J'kral-he's the one who led the strike ships-but General Khegh is pretty sure that the Romulans fired first."

"Right." Abrik snorted. "It's not like they'd say anything else."

T'Latrek was sitting serenely with her hands together, her index fingers steepled. "The Romulans would not fire first unless they were provoked."

Shostakova leaned forward. "Some in the Romulan military would view the Klingons' very presence as a provocation."

Bacco said, "Didn't that ship pretty much sail when this whole shebang started? They agreed to this arrangement."

"They agreed reluctantly," Hostetler Richman said. "And some fleet commanders might not have liked the arrangement all that much."