Star Trek:
The Next Generation™:
Slings and Arrows
Book 1: A Sea of Troubles by J. Steven York & Christina F. York
Book 2: The Oppressor’s Wrong by Phaedra M. Weldon
Book 3: The Insolence of Office by William Leisner
Book 4: That Sleep of Death by Terri Osborne
Book 5: A Weary Life by Robert Greenberger
Book 6: Enterprises of Great Pitch and Moment by Keith R.A. DeCandido
STAR TREK
THE NEXT GENERATION™
SLINGS AND ARROWS
Book 6: Enterprises of Great Pitch and Moment
Keith R.A. DeCandido
POCKET BOOKS
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ISBN-13: 978-1-4165-5027-3
ISBN-10: 1-4165-5027-5
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Dedicated to the memory of Gene
Roddenberry and Michael Piller, two fine
writers now lost to us, but whose work
will live on forever
CHAPTER
1
Palais de la Concorde
Paris, Earth
The first time Jean-Luc Picard set foot in the Palais de la Concorde, he was eight years old, taking a class trip to visit the seat of the Federation government in Paris, only a short air car ride from his home in Labarre. One of his classmates, a girl named Martine, had said that she had hoped to meet President Laikan, though Jean-Luc had thought the girl stupid to think so. Indeed, they had not met the president, who was vacationing on Alpha Centauri, which, their teacher explained, was why they had been able to arrange the tour. They met several other people who worked for the government—including Laikan’s chief of staff, a very gregarious and friendly Denobulan—but none of them were the president and therefore were of less interest to a group of eight-year-old children. Their teacher admonished them for this. The Federation government was far more than a single person, and the importance should be placed, he felt, on the structure where the work of government took place.
But to a group of children who had only really known one president in their lifetimes to date, it was a disappointment.
Now it was sixty years later, and Picard was in the Palais once again, having lived through the regimes of half a dozen or so presidencies, from Laikan’s successor, Thelian, to the recently departed, Jaresh-Inyo. He suspected that his eight-year-old self would never have imagined that the president of the Federation would personally summon him to the Ra-ghoratreii Room. But then, his eight-year-old self probably didn’t anticipate being captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise, either.
Picard had met President Min Zife when he had been a councillor, representative of Bolarus to the Federation Council. His landslide victory at the end of the previous year over Jaresh-Inyo had been taken by many as a mandate for change, especially since Jaresh-Inyo lost with a smaller percentage of votes than any incumbent president who had chosen to run for reelection in the Federation’s history.
Indeed, Picard had been surprised to see the Grazerite choose to run again at all. Admiral Leyton had tricked him into declaring martial law, an abuse of power that led to the resignations of many high-ranking Starfleet personnel—and also to the death of Picard’s friend, Admiral Eric Hahn. (Picard himself had voted for a third candidate, Governor Rel Obertag of Betazed, whose platform was less militaristic than that of Zife.)
The summons to Earth had come just as Picard had finished viewing the opening night of Beverly Crusher’s most recent play. Her excellent production of A Christmas Carol ended its run shortly after the 2373 new year, and over the next few months, she had produced a run of a play of her own, Requiem for a Martian, based on a book that Picard had loaned to the good doctor. The latest piece was Arms and the Man, with Deputy Chief Engineer Paul Porter making an excellent Bluntschli.
When he had said that he would beam down to the Palais with his first officer and chief of security, the staff person who had made the call, an elderly Zakdorn woman, said no. “The president only wishes to speak to you, Captain Picard, and I’m afraid that Palais security will only allow you entrance to the building.”
That was that, then. Fear of changeling infiltration had caused the security in the Palais, already the most secure location in the Federation, to grow even more intense. Given that the Enterprise itself had had its security chief replaced with a changeling less than a year ago—not to mention the revelation of a few months previous that General Martok, one of the highest-ranking soldiers in the Klingon Defense Force, was also a shape-changer—Picard could hardly blame them.
So when the Enterprise arrived at Earth, Picard beamed down alone, arriving at the second-floor transporter station, and then being escorted by two members of the president’s security detail to the meeting room on the fifteenth floor. He took a seat at the far end of the large round table from the door.
And then he waited.
After an interminable period that the wall chronometer insisted was only fifteen minutes, the doors finally parted to reveal not President Zife but a short, stout Zakdorn who walked in purposefully. Behind him was an elderly woman in an admiral’s uniform whom Picard did not recognize.
“Captain Picard, my apologies for arriving late. I’m Koll Azernal, President Zife’s chief of staff, and this is our Starfleet liaison, Admiral Hong.”
Nodding, Hong said, “Captain.”
“Admiral.”
Azernal took a seat next to Picard, Hong taking the next seat after that. “The president regrets that he can’t attend this meeting, but I’m empowered to speak for him.”
For a brief moment, Picard found himself once again feeling the regret of an eight-year-old who’d hoped to meet the president, but that passed quickly. A president’s chief of staff, he knew, was very much like a captain’s first officer. Picard would have trusted Riker with a briefing if it were necessary, so Picard saw no reason not to trust Azernal.
Folding his hands on the table, Azernal gazed at Picard with intense eyes over the heavy folds of his cheeks. “We’ve had a few months to get settled in, Captain, and now it’s time we started doing the job we were elected to do. Among other things, it’s past time we improved our relationship with the Klingon Empire. We’d hoped that the exposure of the Martok changeling would have done the trick, b
ut Gowron seems committed to remaining outside the Khitomer Accords. Your mission is to change that.”
Picard blinked. Azernal’s directness was in sharp contrast to what the captain was used to from politicians. “Mr. Azernal, I’m afraid that has been tried. When Gowron first withdrew from the Khitomer Accords—”
Holding up a hand, Azernal said, “Yes, Captain, we’re fully aware of the previous administration’s attempted use of your relationship with Gowron to change his mind—but at the time, the Martok changeling was still whispering sweet nothings in his ear. We believe that the exposure of that changeling loosened the cork. You’re just the man to finish opening the bottle.”
Letting out a long breath, Picard tugged on his uniform jacket. As the Arbiter of Succession, Picard had been the one to install Gowron as chancellor after K’mpec’s death. On more than one occasion, Gowron had trusted Picard, something the wide-eyed Klingon did not give easily, especially to a non-Klingon.
Azernal, of course, knew this, or Picard wouldn’t be here. And he was right—Gowron might be more amenable to Picard’s coaxing now. “Very well.”
“Good. Report to Deep Space 9 immediately.”
That surprised Picard. “There are bases more proximate to the Klingon border.”
“True, but DS9’s right on the cusp of the border conflict with the Cardassians—and besides, Captain Sisko also has a relationship with Gowron. He got him to back down from attacking DS9 last year, and he’s the one who exposed the Martok changeling. I’m hoping that will help.”
At that, Picard couldn’t help but squirm in his seat, but he said nothing. His issues with Sisko were personal, not professional. “Very well.”
“Besides,” Azernal added, “Bajor’s going to be an important planet in the Federation over the next several years.”
“Bajor’s not part of the Federation.”
“Not yet, no. This mission is top priority, Captain—no diversions, no side missions, understood? These are dark times ahead of us, and we need all the allies we can get. It’s vital that we and the Klingons are on the same page.”
Picard was far more curious about the hint he’d dropped regarding Bajor’s admittance to the Federation, but the Zakdorn had already moved on, so instead he said, “Mr. Azernal, it has been my experience that the Klingons, to use your metaphor, have a completely different book. What you ask may not be possible.”
“I know, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try. And contingency plans are in place—we simply prefer not to use them.”
Picard nodded. “The Enterprise will set course for DS9 immediately.”
“Excellent.” Azernal rose to his feet, Picard doing likewise. “The president’s counting on you, Captain.”
With that, Azernal left the room.
It was only then that Hong finally spoke. “I apologize for this summons, Captain. Mr. Azernal is somewhat more…hands-on than his predecessors have been.”
“Given what James Leyton was able to accomplish, Admiral, one can perhaps understand the new administration’s desire to remind everyone that Starfleet works for the government.”
Hong’s face soured. “There was never any doubt of that.”
Picard remembered Lieutenant Daniels informing him that he’d found Eric Hahn’s body—a death that was the direct result of Leyton’s attempt do the very thing Hong was calling into doubt.
The admiral continued. “I don’t know if Azernal intends to continue skipping over links in the chain of command, but if it eases relations between Starfleet and the Federation Council, I’m certainly all for it.” She rose to her feet. “Best of luck, Captain.” She walked toward the door, then turned around. “Oh, the new administration has also made a suggestion for a new uniform design. The specifications have been transmitted to your ship’s quartermaster. Your entire crew is expected to be wearing it by the time you arrive at DS9.”
“Of course, Admiral.” Picard shook his head in disbelief. This was the fourth uniform change since he’d taken command of the Enterprise-D nine years earlier, after only one uniform change in the years since he joined Starfleet until then. And the security guards escorted him to the turbolift.
As he rode down to the second floor, Picard wondered how many more of his orders would be coming directly from the Palais from now on.
CHAPTER
2
Federation Starbase Deep Space 9
Bajoran system
Captain Benjamin Sisko was catching up on personnel reviews when the resonant voice of Lieutenant Commander Worf sounded over the speaker in his office.
“Captain, you are receiving a priority-one communiqué from Earth.”
“Starfleet Command?” Sisko asked.
“No, sir—from the Palais de la Concorde.”
That surprised Sisko. During his brief tenure as head of security on Earth a year earlier, Sisko received plenty of calls from the Palais and visited there on several occasions, most notably when he demonstrated the need for security against changeling infiltration by having Odo disguise himself as part of the furniture in the president’s office. But since returning to command of Deep Space 9 after Admiral Leyton’s abortive coup, instructions from the government tended to be filtered through the admiralty.
“Put it through, Mr. Worf.”
He activated the small viewer on his desk, and it lit up to show the Federation emblem, which was in short order replaced by the face of a Zakdorn female.
“This is Captain Sisko.”
“Hold for Koll Azernal, please, Captain.”
Back to the Federation emblem. Azernal, Sisko knew, was President Zife’s chief of staff. Sisko had dealt quite a bit with his equivalent in Jaresh-Inyo’s administration, a hyperactive unjoined Trill woman named Emra Sil. Sisko had thought rather highly of Jaresh-Inyo and felt sorry for the way he was manipulated by Leyton. Perhaps because he himself was also a victim of Leyton’s machinations, Sisko found himself voting for the Grazerite for reelection late last year.
Based on the voting results, he was one of the few.
The emblem once again faded, to be replaced by another Zakdorn face, this a male with intense eyes. Sisko recognized the face from several of President Zife’s personal appearances. “Mr. Azneral.”
“Captain. I’m calling you directly to inform you of the mission I gave the Enterprise yesterday.”
After the chief of staff finished briefing him, Sisko said, “Mr. Azernal, I appreciate your contacting me directly, but—”
“The Enterprise will arrive late tomorrow. Restoring the alliance with the Klingon Empire is one of the administration’s top priorities, Captain. Don’t let us down. Azernal out.”
For several seconds, Sisko stared at the viewer. Obviously, it was a top priority, if the chief of staff himself was going over the heads of any number of admirals to deliver Sisko his orders in person. At least I wasn’t summoned directly to the Palais like Picard was, he thought with a small smile.
The smile dropped when he thought about having to work with Picard.
Almost involuntarily, Sisko called up Picard’s service record. The picture was relatively recent, showing a head as bald as Sisko’s own, a hawk nose, and intelligent eyes.
But that wasn’t the face Sisko saw. He saw Locutus of Borg.
It had taken Sisko a long time to realize that Picard wasn’t Locutus. When they met right after he transferred to DS9, Sisko had practically jumped down the man’s throat, telling him that he was one of the few survivors of Wolf 359. Picard had recoiled as if he’d been slapped.
Shortly after that—thanks in no small part to his encounter with the wormhole aliens—they’d reached a kind of rapprochment. But they’d also never really had to work together. While they’d spoken, and while the Enterprise had docked at the station any number of times, the interactions between the two captains had been minimal.
That would likely change on this mission. In fact, Azernal had all but ordered it.
Sisko wasn’t at all sure h
ow he felt about that. Intellectually, he knew Picard was a good captain and a good man. Worf and O’Brien both spoke of him in almost reverent tones, and neither man was one to give his loyalty cheaply.
But all Sisko could see when he stared at him was the man who murdered Jennifer.
Grabbing the baseball off his desk with one hand, he tapped his combadge with the other. “Commander Worf, Commander Dax, report to my office.”
Moments later, the Klingon and the Trill both entered, the former holding a padd in his left hand. He ordered them to take seats, then explained the mission.
“It’s not a bad idea,” Jadzia Dax said when he was done. “Gowron owes a debt of honor to both of you.”
“That is unlikely to be enough for him,” Worf said.
Gently, Dax said, “I know he cast you out of the empire, Worf, but—”
“It is not merely that,” Worf said. “During his first year in the chancellor’s chair, Gowron rewrote Klingon history, greatly downplaying the role of Captain Picard in his installation, and his support during the war against the House of Duras. While he was willing to use his relationship with the captain to suit his own ends—such as when the clone of Kahless was discovered—he was far more reluctant to return the favor.”
Sisko nodded, thoughtfully tossing the baseball back and forth between his hands. “All right, I want both of you to start thinking about ways to approach this. When the Enterprise arrives tomorrow, the three of us and Major Kira will meet with Captain Picard.”
“Aye, sir,” Worf said.
“Of course, Benjamin,” Dax added.
“Good. Dismissed.”
Worf held up the padd he’d brought in. “Sir, there is one other thing. While you were talking with Earth, we received an alert from Starfleet Intelligence. Some equipment has been stolen from an impound on Starbase 50.”
“What kind of equipment?” Sisko asked.
Star Trek: TNG: Enterprises of Great Pitch and Moment Page 1