K’mtok wanted to answer at least some of those questions, but the human refused to let him get a word in. He did, however, have to concede her last point. The end of the war hadn’t meant the end of battle for the empire, and what with the coup against Martok right after the war, and battles at San-Tarah, Elabrej, Kinshaya Major, Tezwa, and others, the Defense Force was in no position to wage a prolonged conflict in a territory as large as the Romulan Empire.
Bacco wasn’t finished. “Besides all that, the Romulan ambassador stood here in my office and apologized to you. When was the last time a Romulan official did that to a Klingon official?”
His teeth now grinding, K’mtok said, “I do not know.”
“Me either, and the two of us are professional politicians whose job it is to know stuff like that, so I’d say the odds are pretty good on it being extremely rare.” Bacco leaned back in her chair and let out a long breath. “Look, K’mtok, it’s up to you guys. If you want to go to war on the basis of what all the evidence indicates is a rogue attack, the perpetrators of which have killed themselves, and for which the people you want to go to war with have apologized, then knock yourselves out. But you need to tell Martok and the High Council that there is absolutely no way you’ll get support from the Federation. Even if I was inclined to argue for it—and, quite frankly, I’m not—I won’t be able to convince the hundred and fifty people on the first floor of it, because I don’t have a good argument to make. And if you do go to war without us, we have to pull out of the Accords, and that won’t be good for anyone.”
After a moment, K’mtok said, “I will convey this information to the High Council.”
“Do me a favor?”
That request surprised K’mtok. “What?”
“Convey what I actually said this time.” She stood up and came around to the other side of the desk. The human woman was half a head shorter than K’mtok, but somehow she managed to look him right in the eyes. “I didn’t need to have you in here when I talked to Kalavak. In fact, my chief of staff said I shouldn’t have. But you are our allies, and you were the ones who were attacked on Klorgat, so I wanted to make sure that you were included in all of this.”
K’mtok sneered at her. “On what are you basing this ridiculous notion that I will not—”
“Cut the crap, K’mtok, I know that you didn’t convey my precise words to the High Council when you and I did our little dance back in March. So right here, right now, I want your word that you will tell the High Council exactly what I told you.”
“You insult me by implying that my word is necessary.”
Bacco smiled. “Oh, I’m not implying a damn thing, I’m coming out and saying it. And you’re insulting me by trying to convince me that it isn’t necessary. Now then, please, may I have your word that you will pass on my message to the Great Hall? Not a version of what I told you that’s been altered in order to provide a better political position for your allies on the High Council, but exactly what I said. Because if I can’t trust you to do even that much, then I’m just gonna have to go over your head to Chancellor Martok. As I recall, it was my predecessor doing precisely that that led to your predecessor being replaced.”
K’mtok stared at Bacco for several seconds. The human continued to stare right back at him.
Then he reared his head back and laughed. “Well played, Madam President, well played. You manipulate the pieces on the board like a master zha player.”
Bacco frowned at that. “I don’t know that game.”
“Perhaps one day I will teach it to you.” K’mtok wondered if the president knew the compliment he paid her by making the offer. Few non-Klingons were worthy of even knowing of klin zha, much less being taught how to play it.
Apparently she had some notion, for she inclined her head slightly and said, “I would be honored.”
“As for the rest of it, I give you my word as a Klingon—the High Council will have your precise words.”
“Thank you, K’mtok. That’s all I ask.”
Oh, that is not all you ask, K’mtok thought, but he did not say so aloud. This president was no fool.
However, she wasn’t done. “One other thing, Mr. Ambassador.”
That got K’mtok’s attention—she hadn’t called him that since the Romulan left the room. “Yes?”
“Please also tell Martok that I think it would be best for both the Federation and the empire if he and I met—perhaps on a neutral planet?—to discuss the future of both our nations.”
Typical Federation, K’mtok thought with a sigh. Their solution to everything is to talk. It grows wearisome. However, he said, “I will pass that request along to the chancellor. Is there anything else?”
“No, that’s it.”
“Thank you, Madam President.”
“Ambassador Morrow, please report to the infirmary.”
Colton Morrow sighed and drained the rest of his allira punch. Slamming the mug down on the table, he slowly departed the Starbase 1 lounge and meandered down the curved corridor toward the turbolift that would deliver him to the infirmary on the other side of the station.
It isn’t going to be good news. I know it isn’t going to be good news. It’s been a week since Ytri/ol and his party collapsed in the council chambers, and there hasn’t been any good news yet. If it was good news, they’d call me directly over the open channel instead of just paging me. If they need me in the room, it’s because they need to consult with me about something they haven’t figured out or to give me bad news. Neither of those options is palatable.
He arrived in the spacious starbase infirmary and went back to the office of Dr. Rebecca Emmanuelli, the chief medical officer of Starbase 1. Already waiting for him were Captain DeSoto and Dr. Papadimitriou from the Hood; Chirurgeon Ghee P’Trell, the head of Starfleet Medical; and Emmanuelli herself, sitting at her desk. On the screen behind her, he could see the lovely features of Esperanza Piñiero, obviously calling from her office in the Palais.
Under other circumstances, he’d be pleased to see the chief of staff’s face, but this told him that it was a briefing for her, and he doubted there was any good news to tell her.
“Mr. Ambassador,” Emmanuelli said, “thanks for joining us. I think you know everyone here.”
Morrow nodded. “What’s happening?”
“Any number of things,” Esperanza said. “But the reason why I called is that I just got a call from Second Speaker Rale/ar. She’s accusing us of kidnapping Speaker Ytri/ol and his delegation.”
“That’s ridiculous,” DeSoto muttered.
However, Morrow could only sigh. “That’s to be expected, honestly. I mean, think about it from their perspective. They weren’t here, so they didn’t see how Ytri/ol and the others behaved last time. Sure, they’ve heard reports, but trust me when I tell you that the way they were acting was completely out of character. I wouldn’t be surprised if Rale/ar thinks we just made it all up.”
“Why would they think we’d do that?” Papadimitriou asked.
“We’re new to them,” Esperanza said. “Their only exposure to us was one ship and a couple of politicians.”
“So they leap straight to we’re-deceiving-them?” Papadimitriou sounded incredulous.
“Not straight,” Morrow said, “but it’s a short jump from what happened last week to this.”
“Regardless of the reasons, this has just become a major interstellar incident, if it wasn’t already, and I need you guys to tell me you’ve made some progress.”
“Not much,” Emmanuelli said with a sigh. “We’ve stabilized them, but their nervous systems have practically gone inactive.”
“Can we send them back to Trinni/ek?”
“I’m not entirely sure.”
“Actually,” DeSoto said, “we may have something.”
“We do?” Morrow said with surprise.
P’Trell then spoke up. A Caitian, he nonetheless had an Andorian honorific for a physician. Morrow wondered what the story there was, but
now wasn’t the time to ask. P’Trell said, “This morning, I ran a second search to see if there were any similar cases. I was aware that Catherine had already run such a search last week, but I thought it should be tried again, with wider search parameters.”
“And you found something?” Morrow asked, then realized it was unnecessary. I’m letting this get to me.
“Yes, although not because of my expanded parameters, but rather because a similar case has been entered into the records since Catherine’s check last week.”
Papadimitriou smirked. “I wasn’t offended, Ghee. Honestly, I was hoping you’d find something I missed.”
“Where was this case?” Esperanza asked, getting everyone back on track.
“That’s the fun part,” DeSoto said. “It was on the Io.”
Morrow blinked. “Their nervous systems have shut down?”
“Not quite,” Papadimitriou said. “Just the opposite.”
Still confused, Morrow started, “I don’t—”
Emmanuelli came to his rescue. “As far as we can tell, the peripheral nervous systems of the Trinni/ek are operating at a lower level than they should, not reacting to stimulus properly. The Io crew, including Captain T’Vrea, are suffering from the exact opposite problem: their peripheral nervous systems are overloaded, being stimulated all out of proportion to their surroundings.”
Papadimitriou added, “They’re losing control of their motor functions—arms flailing, legs buckling, joints turning, all for no good reason.”
DeSoto said, “So we contacted the Io and their chief engineer—who is, by the way, the only senior officer on the ship who’s not incapacitated, and she’s still pretty sick—and they did a long-range scan of the one thing that both cases have in common.”
“Trinni/ek.”
Nodding to Esperanza, DeSoto said, “That’s right.”
Papadimitriou picked up the ball. “Based on the Io’s scans, their sun gives off some kind of magnetic field that plays merry hell with the peripheral nervous systems of most carbon-based life-forms. The Io chief engineer’s a Nasat, and they’re more resistant to that kind of tampering.”
“I don’t get it,” Esperanza said, “if it’s so inimical—”
P’Trell said, “The Trinni/ek developed an immunity to the magnetic field that eventually grew into a dependency. They were able to adjust to the field, to the point where they can’t live without it. Their PNSes have grown sufficiently accustomed to the extra stimulus that it’s how it has to function.”
Morrow nodded, as several conversations with Ytri/ol and other Trinni/ek came back to him. “That actually fits. Esperanza, remember that collection of folktales they sent us?”
Esperanza frowned a moment. “Oh, right, the legends about the landers.”
“Landers?” DeSoto asked.
“The Trinni/ek aren’t from that solar system,” Morrow said. “Their ancestors left their homeworld when their sun was about to go nova. They don’t have a lot of records from the time of the landers—the people who first colonized the world—because the early days were so difficult, and they were more concerned with surviving in their new home.”
Emmanuelli whistled. “If they had to go through what the Io crew’s going through now, I can see why keeping records wasn’t high on their list of things to do.”
P’Trell nodded. “The adjustment period would have been lengthy and brutal.”
“All right then, someone please tell me that the solution is as simple as letting them go home.”
Smiling, Papadimitriou said, “The solution is as simple as letting them go home. In fact, the sooner we do it, the better. I’m worried their PNSes might stop working altogether.”
“Do it, please. I’ll let the president and the second speaker know that we’re sending them back.”
“What about the Io crew?” Morrow asked.
“As long as they stay away from Trinni/ek,” P’Trell said, “the effects should reverse themselves in due time.”
Papadimitriou asked, “Rebecca, can you prep them for transport? I’ll need to get the Hood’s sickbay ready.”
“Of course.” Emmanuelli got up and went out the door toward her biobeds.
“Papadimitriou to Hood,” the doctor said with a tap of her combadge. “One to beam up.”
As she dematerialized, DeSoto said to Esperanza, “We can ship out as soon as the Trinni/ek are on board.”
“I’m going with them,” Morrow said. “Now that we know what the problem is, we can try to work out some way of making this relationship work without subjecting anyone to the destruction of their nervous system.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Esperanza smiled when she said that. Morrow really liked her smile.
“May I make a suggestion?” P’Trell said.
“Shoot.”
“Silicon-based life-forms would not be affected by the magnetic field of the Trinni/ek sun.”
“That could work.” Morrow recalled some recent reports from a sector not far from Trinni/ek. “We might be able to use the Strata as a go-between. They’re a silicon-based species Starfleet discovered three years ago. It’s been slow going—the Strata have a pretty weird notion of time—but we’ve got a good relationship with them, and we might be able to convince them to help us out here.”
“Definitely worth a shot. Try to get in touch with the Strata from the Hood.”
He grinned. “Will do. We’ll keep you posted.”
She grinned right back. “You’d better. Do a job, Colton.”
“I will.”
Esperanza signed off.
DeSoto just stared at Morrow.
“What?” Morrow asked defensively.
“You’re drooling again.”
October 2380
“I have come to the conclusion that politics are too serious a matter to be left to the politicians.”
—Charles de Gaulle
Chapter Twenty-Two
WHEN HIS ROOMMATE activated the viewscreen in the Academy dorm room they both shared, Cadet Casey Goodwin had to forcibly keep himself from throwing his padd at Cadet Jeremy McCall. The only thing that really stopped him was the surety that the padd would be damaged upon impact with McCall’s thick head.
“What the hell’re you doing?”
“ICL’s on.”
Banging his head against the headboard of his bunk, Goodwin said, “Oh, for the love of kimchee, McCall. Do you have to watch that show every week?”
“I don’t know, Goodwin, do you have to bitch and moan about it every time I do? And what does that mean, anyhow?”
“What does what mean?”
“ ‘For the love of kimchee.’ You do know that kimchee is—”
“Cole slaw, yes, I just—” He sighed. “It’s something my mother says all the time, and I picked it up.”
McCall shook his head. “You’ve got a weird family.”
“I’m fully aware of that, McCall, having, y’know, grown up with them—and also having applied to Starfleet Academy and traveled across six solar systems to Earth from Alpha Proxima II for the express purpose of getting very far away from them.”
“Unless you give me a very good reason not to, I’m watching ICL now.”
“I don’t suppose researching my final project for Professor Mlikk’s first contact class constitutes a very good reason.”
Smiling, McCall said, “Maybe they’ll talk about Trinni/ek. That counts, right?”
Goodwin gave up even trying. “Just put the damn thing on, already.”
McCall put the viewer on. Goodwin saw the Kriosian host, flanked on her left by an older human man in civilian clothes who looked eerily familiar, on her right by a Tellarite and a Betazoid (or a human with unnaturally black eyes). On a screen between the old human and the Kriosian was an elderly Andorian who looked a lot like President Thelian.
“Good evening. This is Illuminating the City of Light, I’m your host, Velisa. It’s been one year since the election prompted by President Min Zife
’s surprise resignation was held, leaving Nan Bacco as winner and president of the United Federation of Planets, defeating Ktarian Special Emissary Fel Pagro in a hotly contested election. Tonight, we will look at the first year of the Bacco presidency, what’s been done right, what’s been done wrong, and what we can expect for the next three years.
“With me tonight to discuss these issues are Rina Tran, chief aide to Councillor Sanaht of Janus VI; Kav glasch Vokrak, the Palais correspondent from the Tellarite News Service; former Starfleet admiral and author of Knowledge Isn’t Always Power: My Life Among the Stars, Gregory Quinn; and, remotely from his home on Andor, former President Thelianaresth th’Vorothishria. Welcome, all of you.”
As the guests thanked Velisa, Goodwin’s eyes went wide. “That is Thelian. Son of a bitch.”
“I didn’t think he was still alive.”
Chuckling, Goodwin said, “Look at him—I’m not so sure he is.”
“Thought Quinn looked familiar,” McCall said. “His picture’s in the big hall. He was superintendent here for a while before they moved him over to operations. Then that parasite mess hit and he retired.”
“You read his book?”
“Please—like I care about some old admiral’s war stories. I get enough of that just walking around here. ’Sides, it’s got a stupid title.”
“This from someone who willingly watches a show called Illuminating the City of Light.”
Velisa moved on to her first question, which Goodwin missed, but he assumed it was directed at one of the panelists and that it was about Bacco’s first year, since the Betazoid, Tran, spoke. Goodwin was now sure she was a Betazoid, since she was an aide to Councillor Sanaht. Though the Horta could speak through vocoders, it was more comfortable for them to communicate with telepaths; all of Sanaht’s staff who weren’t fellow Horta were Betazoids. Goodwin only knew this because he’d had to study the council for a government class last term.
Articles of the Federation Page 27