Ozla asked several more questions, including how she applied for government funding to run the place, which wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep it going. “I’m not making much money for myself, but it enables me to do something good.”
Tawna then talked a bit about Starfleet, and how helpful they’d been, ending with, “I always knew they’d be here to help us.”
The phraseology struck Ozla as odd. “What do you mean, ‘always’?”
“Well, the Federation’s always been here to protect us. I mean, it became more overt after Kinchawn went crazy, but Olorun told me about how they gave us those cannons.”
Ozla blinked. “I’m sorry, Tawna, but—” She shook her head. “Say that again, please.”
“Say what again?”
“Major Meboras told you that the Federation supplied the cannons?”
Tawna nodded. “Of course. He told me one night while we were in the bedroom.” She smiled. “I have to say that Olorun was a spectacular lover. He treated me so well.”
Having no interest in Meboras’s sexual prowess, Ozla steered the topic back to the cannons. “You’re sure he said that?”
“I don’t see what the big deal is.” Tawna shrugged. “Olorun told me that the Federation had brokered a deal with Kinchawn that guaranteed that Starfleet would always protect us, and that they’d taken steps to help us protect ourselves. He never said specifically how they did that, but after that Klingon fleet arrived, I just assumed it was those cannons. I saw on the news that they were Starfleet weapons, originally.” She held up her arms. “And look around. Starfleet has been so helpful. I’m kind of sorry they gave us those cannons, to be honest, given what happened, but the Federation’s definitely been making up for it.”
Ozla’s head was spinning. She asked a few more questions but barely paid attention to the answers.
It was possible, of course, that Meboras had been lying in an endeavor to impress his mistress. But that didn’t make sense—what would creating a fictitious secret deal with the Federation get him?
Which meant there was a good chance this was true. Or, at least, that Meboras had had good reason to think it was true.
Rather, to think something was true. Meboras hadn’t actually mentioned the cannons; Tawna had just made a leap in logic. Not an especially big leap, but a leap nonetheless.
I was right—there’s a story here. And it looks like I’m going to be on Tezwa a little while longer….
Chapter Sixteen
IT HAD BEEN NIGHTMARISH, getting through the state dinner without the guests of honor. Throughout the evening, Nan had had to listen to Fred complaining about how his brilliant toast would never be given and various and sundry councillors complaining about the botched diplomatic mission. Everyone wanted to know what had happened, but Nan had had no answers for them, nor had any been likely to be forthcoming during an abortive state dinner.
She had been able to work the room a little, at least. It had been good to talk to the councillors in an atmosphere less formal than on the first floor. For the first time since taking the oath of office, she’d had a pleasant conversation with Councillor Nerramibus of Alonis. They’d discussed the upcoming vote on the Transporter Improvement Act, designed to upgrade public transporters throughout the Federation, of which Nerramibus had been an opponent. In the less tense atmosphere, Nan had been able to make her case to convince Nerramibus to reconsider his vote. Not a guarantee of anything, but a step in the right direction.
In addition, she had discussed the Pioneers’ chances this season with Cestus III’s councillor, Altoun Djinian, as well as Councillor Corices of Huanni, whom Nan had been surprised to learn was a fan. She had talked about the relocation of the Remans with Councillors T’Latrek, Mazibuko, and Krim, as well as the reports of a fleet of Romulan military ships led by an admiral named Mendak, who had anywhere from three to seven warbirds under his command, and who had apparently gone rogue, making guerrilla attacks on both Klingon and Romulan targets. She had received a surprisingly gracious apology from Councillor Gelemingar, though Nan hadn’t been sure what it had been for; given the Gnalish’s performance on ICL the other night, she’d been more than happy to accept any apology from him. She had kibbitzed with Fred on the theme for the Starfleet Academy commencement speech. And, most surprising of all, she had actually shared a couple of jokes with Councillor Gleer.
Afterward, however, there had been business to do. She’d invited Esperanza, Xeldara, Ambassador Morrow, Secretary Safranski, and Councillor Ra’ch to the château for a meeting to discuss the Trinni/ek.
Nan generally liked meetings in the château, as they had a less formal atmosphere than the ones in the Palais. Although it was constructed less than a hundred years ago, Château Thelian had been built to the specifications of the other like structures in the Loire Valley. This meant, among other things, that the sitting room had beautiful wood-paneled walls, a large stone fireplace on the east wall, an elegant couch facing that fireplace, with comfortable chairs perpendicular to the couch. Nan sat in a chair that had been brought in from an adjoining room. Xeldara, Ra’ch, and Safranski were on the couch, leaving the two big chairs for Esperanza and Morrow. The fireplace itself was sealed and purely decorative despite the fact that there were times when Nan would have liked the comfort of a fire. However, Federation safety regulations frowned on open flames in government buildings, not entirely without reason, so Nan had to settle for the visual alone.
The west wall opposite the fireplace had portraits of all the presidents since Thelian. For some reason, Nan’s eyes fell on Min Zife’s portrait. The Bolian looked so very small. She supposed it had something to do with how he looked next to his predecessor—Jaresh-Inyo had been a large bear of a man, and his portrait painter had emphasized that. Zife, by comparison, looked frail. Nan wondered when in his administration the portrait had been done. If it had been during the war, Nan understood how he might not have looked at his best: She’d been on the job less than a year, and she felt exhausted half the time in spite of the fact that she was running the Federation during a time of peace, the difficulties in Romulan space notwithstanding. Of course, it was also possible that Zife’s portrait had been done near the end, when his presidency had started to get away from him, to the point where he’d been forced to resign.
Oddly, Zife was the only still-living president with whom she had yet to speak. Since taking on the job, she’d spoken regularly with Amitra, occasionally with Jaresh-Inyo—though less so the last two months, for some reason—and once or twice with Thelian, who was in poor physical shape. Indeed, Thelian was not expected to live out the year.
Turning to the group assembled before her, she asked the question that had been preying on her mind since Speaker Ytri/ol stormed out of the Roth Dining Room: “Somebody want to tell me what the hell happened tonight?”
“I don’t understand it, Madam President.” Xeldara, as always, tugged on her earlobe. “They’ve been nothing but enthusiastic about this for months. Honestly, they told us once or twice that they wished they could move the meeting up. If it wasn’t for your goodwill trip, we might’ve considered it.”
“I know all that, Xeldara, but that conveniently doesn’t answer my damn question.” She sighed. “Sorry, but it’s been a long night.”
Esperanza had her hand on her chin. “Colton said that they were acting funny the whole way over.”
Colton? Nan hadn’t realized that Esperanza and the ambassador were on a first-name basis. Then again, they had been working closely with the Trinni/ek. What was more, thinking back over the evening, the two of them had spent a lot of time talking during the dinner, including a great deal of smiling and chuckling—which meant they hadn’t spent the whole night discussing the Trinni/ek.
Looking at Morrow, Nan prompted, “Well, Mr. Ambassador?”
Shifting in his chair, Morrow said, “I did say that, ma’am. They were escorted here by the Venture, and honestly, we almost needn’t have bothered. Once we left th
eir star system, they barely answered any comms and refused to beam over at all. It’s like they were completely different people.”
Ra’ch pursed her lips. “It was almost like they were all sick—one of them did faint, also. It might’ve been simple starship lag.”
“They’ve traveled through space before,” Xeldara said. “Hell, they’re not even native to their world.”
Safranski said, “Still, Councillor Ra’ch may be right. It could’ve been some kind of illness that hit all of them.”
Xeldara tugged her ear again. “Illness doesn’t account for that—even with the fainting. This was a whole personality shift.”
Nan shook her head. “All right, how do we fix this?”
“I’m not sure that we do,” Esperanza said. “They insulted us—publicly, definitively.”
“It’s not like the world is critical.” Safranski shrugged. “Yes, they have plenty of resources we can use, but it’s nothing we can’t get elsewhere. Having them as a trading partner is more a luxury than a necessity.”
Ra’ch nodded, an action that, thanks to the horn in the center of her forehead, made the teal-skinned councillor look like she was about to gore someone. “We can’t force someone to be nice to us—the choice is completely theirs.”
Morrow shook his head. “But they chose this. They were the ones who contacted the Io, not the other way around. They pushed for diplomatic relations, and they volunteered to come to Earth rather than having us go there. They were eager to make friends with us.”
“Which brings us back,” Esperanza said, “to the president’s question of what the hell happened.”
“I don’t know, but I think it’s worth trying to find out.” Morrow sounded determined. Nan had the feeling that he viewed tonight’s events as a personal failing on his part.
“How?” Ra’ch asked.
“The Io’s still in the same sector. Why not have them swing around there in a few weeks, see what they can find out?”
Nan turned to Esperanza. “What do you think?”
“It couldn’t hurt. Worse comes to worse, Ytri/ol tells the Io to go away, and they go away. Best case, they apologize, and we can start again. We’ve certainly got nothing to lose by trying, and I trust Captain T’Vrea not to make things worse.”
Nan nodded. “All right. Ra’ch, could you talk to Starfleet, see about diverting the Io in a couple weeks?”
“Of course.”
“Okay, thanks everyone. Let’s hope we can salvage this.”
Everyone said, “Thank you, Madam President,” except for Xeldara. “Ma’am,” the Tiburonian said meekly, “can I talk to you and Esperanza for a minute?”
Xeldara had never used a meek tone of voice in the entire time Nan had known her, so it got her attention. “Sure,” Nan said and waited for Ra’ch, Safranski, and Morrow to leave.
Nan noticed a quick exchange of looks between Morrow and her chief of staff. After the door closed behind them, Nan looked at Esperanza. Nan’s earlier snide remarks about her shoes notwithstanding, Esperanza looked fantastic tonight. She suspected that fact wasn’t lost on Colton Morrow, either.
Making a mental note to tease Esperanza mercilessly about it at a more appropriate time, Nan turned to Xeldara with an expectant expression.
“Madam President, I—I’m afraid I have to resign.”
Nan felt like she’d been punched in the gut. “What?”
Esperanza looked just as surprised. “What brought this on? If it’s because—”
“It’s not because of anything either of you have done, or anything I’ve done—exactly. Look, I know you both haven’t always seen eye to eye with me, but you’ve never held that against me—which I appreciate. It’s not that I don’t love this job, but—” She sighed. “Tonight was the most time that my husband and I have spent together since I took this job. I’ve been working ninety hours a day, fifty days a week for nine months. I’m never home, and Arlon hates it here on Earth.”
Nan cursed herself for not remembering Arlon’s name until Xeldara said it.
Esperanza said, “He hasn’t been—?”
Without hesitating, Xeldara said, “No! He doesn’t even know I’m planning this, and he keeps insisting that he’s fine and that he’s proud of me. But we’ve been married a long time, and I can tell that he’s miserable. I just can’t keep doing this to him.” She tugged on her earlobe again, and Nan found, to her surprise, that she was going to miss that irritating affectation. “I’ve been talking to Councillor Gnizbreg, and she’s offered me a job as chief of staff in her office back on Tiburon.”
Esperanza tensed. Before she could say anything, however, Xeldara quickly said, “She actually offered me the job three months ago. Apparently her last COS left the place a disaster. That was when I had first started thinking about resigning. Honestly, I’d finally decided to do it five weeks ago, but I didn’t want to leave while we were in the middle of the Trinni/ek talks. But now that that’s pretty much over, I just—”
Nan held up a hand. “It’s all right, Xeldara. I’d rather have you than not have you, but I’d also rather you were happy.”
Xeldara let out a huge breath, which Nan took for a sigh of relief. “Thank you for understanding, ma’am.”
“It’s all right.”
Esperanza said, “We’ll make the formal arrangements tomorrow. Be in my office at 0800?”
“Sure.” Xeldara turned toward the door. “Thank you, Madam President.”
When she left, there seemed to be a proverbial spring to her step. This was definitely something she needed to do.
Chuckling, Esperanza shook her head. “Honestly, I had pegged Myk as being the first to quit.” Then her expression grew more serious. “I’m going to have Gnizbreg’s head.”
“Leave her alone, Esperanza, all she did was put the bug in her ear.” Nan paused. “That expression takes on a whole new meaning with Tiburonians, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am—and I won’t do anything too horrible to the councillor. But poaching is an offense that definitely deserves some kind of retribution.”
Nan sighed. “Fine, just keep me out of it.” Another pause. “So, what’s happening between you and the ambassador?”
“What do you—? I can’t believe you’re going to—Look, ma’am, what happens in—Oh, forget it.”
Grinning, Nan said, “That’s amazing—you ran the entire gamut from surprised to annoyed to pissed to resigned in about half a second.”
“You bring out the best in me, ma’am.”
“So does Ambassador Morrow—sorry, Colton. I bet you’d have done even better with him if you’d worn the heels.”
“The ambassador is a nice person—”
“Fairly good looking, too.”
“—with whom I’ve worked very closely these last few weeks.”
“Months, actually.”
Esperanza’s voice grew tighter. “And we get along well, which has made the work easier.”
“Right, of course.”
Sighing, Esperanza said, “Ma’am, as we’ve just seen up close, romance and the Palais aren’t entirely compatible.”
Nan mentally conceded the point, but she wasn’t anywhere near done teasing her chief of staff yet. “Fred and Ashanté manage.”
“Fred and Ashanté have been in professional politics together for all their adult lives, and they work together. Colton’s work takes him all over the Federation. I really don’t think it’ll work.”
Before Nan could reply, the door opened to reveal one of the guards. “Excuse me, ma’am?”
“Yeah, Marta, what is it?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, ma’am, but a message just arrived for you—the former president died.”
Nan winced. “Ah, damn. Well, I suppose Thelian was bound to—”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Marta interrupted, “but it wasn’t President Thelian—it was President Jaresh-Inyo.”
That took Nan aback. Her eyes immediately went back to his po
rtrait, hanging between Amitra’s and Zife’s. Although he was fairly soft-spoken, Jaresh-Inyo had always had a commanding physical strength. As far as she knew, he was in good health.
Then again, I also haven’t heard anything from him in a while. I’m guessing this was why.
“Thanks, Marta.”
Marta nodded and went back to standing guard outside the door.
Esperanza said, “I’ll find out what the arrangements are, then get your schedule rearranged. The funeral’ll probably be on Grazer.”
Still staring at the portrait, Nan said, “Yeah. I’ll have to talk to his wife. And to Thelian and Amitra and Zife.” She then turned back to Esperanza. “Do we know where Zife is?”
“I’ll find out.”
“Good.” She sighed. “Damn.”
Jaresh-Inyo had asked to have his death-watch not on Grazer but on Mars, where he had retired after losing the election to Min Zife. The former president was of the semtir tradition, which called for the body to be destroyed in front of a gathering of friends and family, after which any who wished to would provide a brief remembrance.
Esperanza stood in the back of the packed Squyres Amphitheater in Endurance on Mars. “Friends and family” was a tall order when you used to be president of the quadrant’s largest political entity, and the amphitheater was standing-room-only. Besides the former president’s wife, children, grandchildren, and siblings, people from Jaresh-Inyo’s administration, dozens of councillors, prominent Grazerite politicians, and Presidents Amitra and Bacco were all present, as well as a Starfleet honor guard.
Conspicuous by their absence, even in the crowded space, were Presidents Thelian and Zife. The former had had to beg off due to illness—the old Andorian was sufficiently frail that his physicians feared a space voyage of any kind, much less from Andor to Mars, might necessitate a second state funeral.
As for Zife, he was nowhere to be found, though not for lack of trying on Esperanza’s part. Though Admiral Ross had been the one to issue the ultimatum to Zife, forcing him to resign or have the arming of Tezwa exposed, he did not know where Zife had gone for his retirement. Neither of the two most prominent Bolians in the Palais—Councillor Nea and a reporter named Sovan—had any idea. Esperanza had contacted several members of Zife’s staff and cabinet, most of whom hadn’t been especially cordial to the person who, in essence, had taken their jobs away one year (or more, had Zife been reelected) sooner than expected.
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