Articles of the Federation

by Keith R. A. DeCandido

  “You do know that I can order the security guards to kill you and then just make up a reason, right?”

  The eyebrow shot up again. “That is also unlikely.”

  A second turbolift door opened to reveal the other two guards and Nan Bacco. Esperanza could almost see the cloud over the president’s head, which she did not take as a good sign.

  “Sivak, find out what the score in the game was.”

  “Madam President, it was an exhibition game, I don’t see the relevance—”

  “Right now, Sivak, I couldn’t give a tinker’s damn whether or not you see the nose in front of your face, much less the relevance of my request. I just spent eight hours with the council, which is about seven hours and fifty-nine minutes more than I was interested in spending, during which we accomplished about as much as a one-legged person at an ass-kicking contest. I swear, there was more governing on Chalna today than there was here, and the Chalnoth are anarchists.” She looked at Esperanza. “What do you want?”

  “I wanted to know how the session went, but you pretty well answered that one, ma’am, thanks.”

  President Bacco snorted. “How the hell did FNS find out about the Reman ship?”

  “They’re a news-gathering organization, ma’am. Honestly, the surprise is that nobody picked it up before now. And this is better, really—it’ll be at 22 in a few days, so there’ll only be a few days of speculating about what we’ll do in response, instead of two months of it if it’d gone public right off the bat. Besides, the Remans’ comm lines are still down, so we can honestly say we don’t know what to expect.”

  “The hallmark of my presidency,” Bacco muttered.

  Sivak spoke up. “The Pike City Pioneers A-squad defeated their B-squad by a final result of eleven runs to ten.”

  The president looked disappointed. “It was an intrasquad game today?”

  “Yes, ma’am. They will encounter the Palombo Sehlats tomorrow, and the Prairieview Green Sox the day following.” Sivak looked up from his screen. “I was unaware that there was any legislation on Cestus III that required all municipalities to begin with the letter P.”

  “Keep reading the schedule, you’ll find Lakeside, Johnson City, New Chicago, Os—Oh, hell, why am I arguing with you?”

  “A question that torments us all, Madam President.”

  Esperanza smiled. The sport of baseball had been revived on Cestus III after falling out of favor on Earth in the twenty-first century. A league had been incorporated during Nan Bacco’s first term as planetary governor, and she had been an avid follower of the Cestus Baseball League ever since. When the presidential campaign started, Bacco joked that she was considering dropping out when she realized that she’d be away from Cestus for the entire baseball season for at least four years. Exhibition season had just begun—games that actually mattered would commence in a month’s time, when the president would be traveling home to throw out the ceremonial first pitch at Opening Day. It was one stop on a goodwill tour to various Federation worlds, which had been deliberately timed to allow her to throw out the first pitch, something she’d done every year since the CBL started.

  The president ignored Sivak’s rebuke and asked, “You postponed the afternoon’s meetings?”

  “Yes, ma’am. The secretary of agriculture will return at 1800, the secretary of defense at 1815, the secretary of housing at 1830, and Mr. MacDougan at 1845.”

  Frowning, the president asked, “Why’m I meeting with Fred again?”

  Sivak tapped a command onto his screen. “To discuss the address to the Titan Shipbuilder’s Guild tomorrow.”

  “Aligar’s gonna be an issue there,” Esperanza put in quickly before the president could object.

  She objected anyhow. “We locked that speech two days ago.”

  “And then this morning, the guild officially denounced your suspension of trade with Aligar. I told Fred to rework the speech, and then I put him on your calendar—for 1400, originally.”

  “Dammit, is Aligar gonna bite me on my ass for the rest of my term?” Before Esperanza could answer, the president waved toward the entrance to her office. “C’mon inside, I’ve been standing for eight hours and my feet are about ready to sue for separate maintenance. I need to sit and I need to abuse someone, and you’ve always been my favorite target for that.”

  “Ma’am, you know I serve at your pleasure, but I think sitting on me is taking that a bit too far. Or did you mean the abuse?”

  They moved toward the door. “That abuse is gonna get physical if you don’t watch it.” She sighed. “Right now my pleasure is to yell at someone, and if I do it to the staff, it’ll be on FNS by midnight. Every other damn thing we do winds up there. Did you see ICL yesterday?”

  “I thought Sorlak did well. And Quintor—”

  “Quintor made an ass of herself.” President Bacco went around to the other side of her desk but didn’t sit down. “And where the hell does Admiral Wrongway, or whatever the hell her name is, get off pontificating like that?”

  “It’s Janeway, ma’am,” Esperanza said as she took up a position on the opposite side of the desk, “and everything she said was completely right. But all of it is conditional on what the Remans actually want, and we still don’t know what that is.”

  “Speaking of that, has Spock made it out alive yet?”

  Esperanza nodded. “He’ll be here tomorrow.”

  “About damn time—what took so long?”

  “Flying around in Romulan space is dangerous these days; the relief ships were late arriving because they had to take more circuitous routes. Since that dustup two months ago, we’ve had, what, six different firefights erupt?”

  “Seven. I started reading over Abrik’s reports again to keep myself from falling asleep during the council session.”

  That got Esperanza nervous. “Ma’am—”

  “It was during Gleer’s diatribe.”

  Esperanza’s concerns abated. Bera chim Gleer, the councillor from Tellar, had a capacity for long-windedness that had to be heard to be believed. The shortest he’d ever held the floor during a council session was forty-five minutes, and that particular one was only abbreviated because the councillor had an illness. Usually he went on for an hour and a half at least. “What was he on about this time?”

  “Well, it started out about the need for the council to carefully consider all appointments, then it went on to how the council has to carefully consider refugee requests, and then he went on and on and on about Artrin’s fine accomplishments on Triex—which I thought was hilarious given that he’s doing as much as anyone to hold up the man’s appointment—and then I stopped paying attention, to be honest, though he ended with something about Vulcans.”

  “Well, Tellar, Kharzh’ulla, and Brantik have been making the most use of the trade agreement with Aligar, so his constituents are getting hit the hardest.”

  “Yeah? What’s his excuse for being an ass the rest of the time?” The president sat down. “There was one bit of good news: Beltane got in, eighty-seven to sixty-seven.”

  A wave of relief washed over Esperanza. “About time.”

  “Yeah, well, she was only the most qualified person available, so I can see why the council wanted to drag their heels on ratifying her.” The president slammed a hand into the salish desk. “Dammit, Esperanza, what the hell are these jackasses playing at? Are they that pissed about Aligar?”

  “About Aligar? No. About the way you phrased your displeasure about Aligar? Absolutely.”

  The president frowned. “What the hell’s that mean? All I did was argue as to why trading with Aligar wasn’t tenable anymore.”

  “No, ma’am, due respect, you didn’t.” Esperanza hesitated. “If you had phrased your speech as a request to not renew the agreement—which, I might add, is how you told me you were going to play it when you insisted that we didn’t need Fred to draft some notes for you to use—it would have been okay, but you phrased it as a rebuke. You chastised them, ma’am. Yo
u told one hundred and fifty-four councillors that they were immoral, that they were wrong, that they stood against what made the Federation great. You questioned their patriotism right there in the chamber. Honestly, I’m amazed they reacted as calmly as they did.”

  The president snorted. “Your definition of calm differs from mine.”

  Esperanza sat down in the nearest guest chair. “Ma’am—this isn’t the governor’s office on Cestus III.”

  “Really?” The president rolled her eyes. “What was your first clue, the view out the window? For crying out loud, Esperanza, I’m not that feeble, I—”

  “My point is, Madam President, that you’re not the leader of the Federation the way you were leader of Cestus. Intellectually, of course you know that, but instinctively? On Cestus, you were the final authority. Here, you aren’t—you’re just the most important cog in a very big wheel. You work with the council, they don’t work for you.”

  President Bacco was silent for several seconds, staring off at a corner of the office with her hand at her chin.

  Esperanza finally felt the need to prompt her. “Ma’am?”

  The president shook her head. “Sorry, I was thinking about creative ways of killing Gleer.”

  “Ma’am—”

  “Fine, fine, you’re right, Esperanza. You’re almost always right—it’s probably your most annoying quality.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Don’t hold me to that, though—you have plenty of other annoying qualities, too.”

  Esperanza nodded. “Of course, ma’am.”

  “Any ideas on how to fix this?”

  That caught Esperanza off guard. She had twelve other things on her mind at the moment. “I think we can just ride this out, and—”

  “We can’t afford to ride this out. The government’s grinding to a damn halt.” Bacco thought a moment, then said, “I’m gonna apologize.”

  Her eyes widening in surprise, Esperanza said, “Really?”

  “What, I’m not allowed to apologize?”

  “Well, it’s not typical, ma’am. Of the president of the Federation or—well, of you.”

  “Then it’s time I started being atypical, ’cause typical ain’t gettin’ the job done. I’ll take the floor at the next session and fall on my sword.” She sighed. “I assume Raisa’s gonna talk to me about the Remans?”

  Grateful for the change of subject, Esperanza said, “Yes, ma’am. No new news yet, obviously, since they’re still running silent.”

  Shaking her head, the president said, “This damn thing’s been hanging over us for two months now. I’ll be glad when it’s over. Anything new from the Klingons?”

  “No. They still say they haven’t made any aggressive moves, that the Romulans have always fired first.”

  “And the Romulans?”

  Smirking, Esperanza said, “Depends who you ask, and what time of day.”

  “Yeah.” The president let out a long breath. “Oh, and I think Artrin’ll be ratified soon. Honestly, they were ready to take a vote, finally, but Severn-Anyar said she hadn’t finished reading through all of Artrin’s magisterial decisions.”

  Esperanza frowned. “She’s had months to do that.”

  “Yeah, that’s why I think it’ll be over soon—the delaying tactics are getting particularly feeble. One other thing that was introduced was a resolution to continue the water supplies to Delta until they hammer out their nonsense with Carrea. Speaking of which, should I take it as read that the Wescott Room continues to be a source of contention?”

  This time it was Esperanza who rolled her eyes. In addition to the president’s office, the fifteenth floor of the Palais included two large meeting rooms—the Ra-ghoratreii Room and the Wescott Room, both named after past Federation presidents. These two in particular were the ones who’d signed the Khitomer Accords and the Organian Peace Treaty, respectively, and their portraits hung on the respective walls. The latter room had been the site of the regular meetings between the Deltan and Carreon delegations for two months now.

  “Yeah, they’re still going at it. The latest is that the Carreon are asking for exclusive trading rights to eeriak.”

  Frowning, the president said, “Isn’t eeriak their biggest export?”

  “Yeah, and it’s not replicable. Delta’s economy will collapse if they only trade to Carrea, since they can’t possibly import enough to make it worth Delta’s while to go exclusive.”

  “Talk about feeble delaying tactics. When do you think I should get into it?”

  “Another couple of days, I think the Deltans are gonna walk out, so I’d say within a couple of days.”

  “All right. Well, at least Delta will have water for another month, thanks to a handy one hundred and fifty-one to one vote.”

  “I assume Delta was one of the two who abstained?”

  “Yeah—the other was Ontail who, once again, didn’t show up.”

  Esperanza blew out a breath between her teeth. After the incident at the Rashanar Battle Site, the Zife administration had managed to keep the Ontailians from leaving the Federation altogether. However, Councillor Lo had only been at two council sessions in the year and a half since Rashanar.

  That, however, was a discussion for another time. “Who was the one negative vote?”

  Glowering, the president said, “Who do you think?”

  “Quintor?” Esperanza asked with a wince.

  “I tell you, Esperanza, I’m starting to relax my enthusiasm for appointing her to government oversight.”

  “If it was anything other than government oversight, I’d agree.”

  The words hung between them for a moment.

  “You realize,” the president finally said, “that it probably won’t matter. What Zife did probably won’t even come out during my presidency—and even if it does, that won’t matter to the current council. Honestly, do you really think I’d do something as depraved as what Zife did on Tezwa?”

  “If you’d asked me the same question about Min Zife two years ago, I’d have said the same thing I’d say about you now. But who the hell knows? And the point is, we have a responsibility to make sure that sort of abuse of power can’t—”

  Waving her hand in front of her face, the president said, “All right, all right, I know—I’m the one who gave you that speech after we found out about Zife, remember? And I know that Quintor will question everything, which is what you want in that position, but—” She let out another breath. “I’m just hoping that particular council gets very little work.”

  “I’ll do everything I can to make sure that happens, ma’am.”

  President Bacco nodded. “Good. Anything else?”

  Esperanza smiled. “Eleven to ten, huh? Real pitchers’ joust, wasn’t it?”

  “It’s pitchers’ duel, you heathen.” But the president returned the smile. “All right, it’s 1815, so I’d better start seeing my 1800 appointment. What was it again?”

  “Sivak said it was Secretary Kolrami.”

  The president leaned back in her chair. “Oh joy, I get to be lectured at by the agriculture secretary. Why did we appoint her again?”

  Esperanza got up from her seat. “Because she’s the Federation’s leading expert on agriculture, and she’s been criticizing the Federation’s position on several issues for ten years now, and you thought her arguments were cogent.”

  The president shook her head. “Yeah, well, that was before she was directing them at me. Now I just think they’re tiresome. I’m starting to question our methods of choosing a cabinet. Next time around, let’s just pick people who don’t know a damn thing about the subject—this way I can have fewer meetings.”

  “I’ll look into that, ma’am,” Esperanza deadpanned. “You want me or one of the guys here when you talk to Fred about the speech?” Esperanza had taken to referring to her four deputies as “the guys.”

  “Send Ashanté—she’s better at keeping Fred focused. Besides, they make a cute couple, and after eight ho
urs with the council, I need all the cute I can get.”

  Chuckling, Esperanza turned to leave. “Thank you, Madam President.”

  Chapter Nine

  BEY TOH’S STOMACH was growling and his head was pounding as he entered Sisko’s Creole Kitchen in New Orleans. As he walked in, the smell of cayenne peppers and Cajun spices and tomato sauce managed to at once alleviate the headache and make the stomach growl more.

  When Fred MacDougan had offered him the job as a member of President Bacco’s speechwriting staff, he had done so in this restaurant. Toh had been serving as the speechwriter for the Federation ambassador to the Klingon Empire, but when Fred had made the job offer, he’d found it irresistible.

  It hadn’t hurt that Fred had made the offer in this restaurant. Until that interview, Toh, a Bajoran by birth, had never set foot on Earth, and had had no idea that they had such magnificent cuisine.

  Sisko’s was therapy for Toh, and right now he needed it.

  “Toh! How’s it going?” The always-happy voice of the restaurant’s owner, Joseph Sisko, cut through the chatter of the early lunch crowd, though it was dinnertime for Toh, still on Paris time as he was. He turned to see Joseph’s ever-smiling visage, white teeth shining in his dark face. As ever, he wore a brightly colored shirt and dark pants, greeting the guests as they walked in as if he’d been waiting all day for them.

  “It’s been better. Did you know that tomorrow’s the assistant technology secretary’s hundredth birthday?”

  Joseph’s grin widened as he put his hand on Toh’s shoulder. “Toh, I hate to tell you this—but I didn’t even know there was an assistant technology secretary.”

  Toh laughed. “Yeah, well, the president’s supposed to give a short birthday greeting to him tomorrow.”

  “So?”

  Grimacing, Toh said, “Guess who gets to write it?”

  Leading him to a table in the corner, Joseph said, “So what’s the problem? You can do this sort of thing in your sleep.”