Somewhere between Gleer’s fire and T’Latrek’s ice was Councillor Matthew Mazibuko, representing Earth, whose diplomatic career had thrived by avoiding temperamental extremism. It was a trait, Akaar knew, that tended to be mistaken for a lack of decisiveness and conviction—a fallacy many of Mazibuko’s opponents on issues brought to the floor of this chamber had learned to their great regret. As the human took his place among his peers, his vividly colored ambassadorial robes adorned in the intricate patterns of his native Africa, Akaar reflected that it was precisely this tendency to underestimate human subtlety that had enabled Earth to become such a formidable member of the Federation.
Akaar caught the gaze of Charivretha zh’Thane for a moment, but the Andorian councillor broke eye contact almost immediately, her antennae twitching in a manner that Akaar knew signified embarrassment. He’d heard she had been recalled to her homeworld and would be departing shortly after this meeting. When he had asked her earlier in the day if the rumor was true, she had deflected his question with several pointed inquiries of her own about Capellan notions of privacy. Akaar had taken the hint and withdrawn, unoffended, imagining that whatever the reason for zh’Thane’s return to Andor, he would learn about it in due course—or not.
Several of the other councillors had already taken their seats, among them Huang Chaoying from Alpha Centauri, Ra’ch B’ullhy from Damiano, and Dynkorra M’Relle from Cait. But Akaar’s attention was soon diverted by the arrival of the Federation president, Min Zife, who entered through the side door, flanked by several Starfleet security guards. The Federation’s affable chief executive strode forward with confidence, his blue Bolian features complemented by his smartly tailored, light gray civilian suit.
“I call this session of the Federation Security Council to order,” Zife said after he had taken his place behind the podium emblazoned with the Federation seal. All talk in the room dropped away sharply as the gathering turned its whole attention to the front of the chamber. “Today’s meeting is to be considered sealed, unless the entire Council votes, at a later date, to reveal the proceedings herein.”
Zife gestured toward Akaar, who squared his shoulders and stood straight, drawing himself to his full 2.2-meter height. He stood at attention as the president continued. “We will first hear from Fleet Admiral Akaar about the situation in question, then discuss the Council’s best course of action. Admiral?”
Akaar stepped forward, bowed his head respectfully to the president, then turned to address the councillors seated along either side of the chamber. “Thank you, Mr. President. Esteemed Councillors, I trust that by now all of you have read Starfleet Command’s official after-action reports on the recent crisis on Bajor, and its apparent connection to the world of Trill.”
Councillor Gleer raised his porcine snout truculently. “I most certainly have, Admiral Akaar. And I am greatly displeased by the many questions they leave unanswered.”
Unsurprised by Gleer’s attitude, Akaar met the Tellarite’s glare impassively. “I will be pleased to answer any questions that you or any of the other esteemed councillors present may wish to raise, Councillor Gleer.”
Apparently unimpressed by Akaar’s attempt at openness, Gleer pounded one of his hirsute fists on the table before him. “How could all of this have been kept secret for so long?” he bellowed.
Akaar found that Gleer’s blunt question brought him up short. “To what are you referring specifically?” he asked after a moment’s consideration.
“Allof it! These parasites and their apparent genetic relationship to the Trill symbionts, a fact that the Trill authorities must have been concealing from us for quite a while—just as they used to hide from friend and foe alike their true nature as a joined species. Then there’s the matter of the Trill government’s use of assassins against other Federation heads of state. The Federation Council cannot countenance the wanton—”
Growing irritated by the Tellarite’s peremptory tone, Akaar interrupted him. “I am prepared to discuss Starfleet’s operational knowledge of and involvement in last month’s parasite-related incidents. However, it might be indecorous of me to use this venue to speculate about the internal workings of the Trill government.”
“Indeed,” said Councillor T’Latrek, raising her right eyebrow in what Akaar interpreted as a display of curiosity. “Inquiries into the Trill government’s knowledge about the parasites—and its apparent sanctioning of the assassination of Bajor’s First Minister Shakaar—would be more appropriately directed to the councillor representing Trill.”
It had not escaped Akaar’s notice that Councillor Jerella Dev of Trill was conspicuously absent.
“Just why isn’tCouncillor Dev present at this meeting?” asked Ra’ch B’ullhy, the representative from Damiano. “For that matter, I would think Bajor, given the manner in which it was directly affected by Trill operatives, would demand representation at these proceedings as well. We aretalking about an act of aggression by one Federation member world against another, are we not?”
Akaar’s gaze shifted to the presidential podium, behind which Zife stood. The Bolian looked uncomfortable, apparently at a loss for words. Not for the first time, Akaar wondered how this president had gained his reputation for decisiveness, and how he had maintained it during the tumultuous years of the Dominion War.
“To their credit, and our good fortune, the Bajoran people have not been blind to the extenuating circumstances surrounding the death of their leader,” Councillor zh’Thane said, cutting short the embarrassing silence from the podium. “Their own doctors have agreed that Shakaar Edon had irrevocably ceased to exist well before his parasite-dominated body was shot and killed aboard Deep Space 9. Understandably, the Bajoran government continues to demand a full investigation into Trill’s handling of this crisis, about which no Bajoran or Federation officials were ever consulted. However, the Bajorans have agreed to wait for this Security Council to issue its recommendations before bringing the matter to the floor when the full Council re-convenes later this month.” Zh’Thane paused before continuing. “As for the other matter, our business today very much concerns Trill, and might well be hampered by the presence of a representative from that world.”
“But must we conduct this business behind the backs of the Trill people?” Councillor Huang wanted to know, her obvious distaste for subterfuge emphasized by her grim countenance.
“Why not?” said Gleer, his voice a low rumble. “The Trill have never had a problem concealing essential truths from other Federation member worlds. It seems to come naturally to them. Consider the manner in which they used stolen Starfleet property to achieve their ends on Bajor!”
Hiziki Gard’s isolation suit,Akaar thought. Ordinarily utilized for benign covert cultural study of prewarp civilizations, the Starfleet “cloaking” garment had become the means by which Shakaar’s killer had hoped to evade capture while he remained hidden aboard Deep Space 9. Gard said he had obtained the suit through black market channels, a claim supported by the fact that the suit’s serial number tied it to the U.S.S. Kelly,which had been destroyed at the Battle of Rigel during the war. Ships of the Orion Syndicate were known to have ventured into the debris field in the aftermath of the battle, salvaging what they could from the wreckage before Starfleet could claim its own. It made Akaar wonder how much classified Federation technology had been recovered in the same manner by unscrupulous parties. Another postwar headache to deal with.
“In light of its government’s actions,” Councillor M’Relle was saying, his usually purring tones sounding jangled and dangerous, “a reevaluation of Trill’s status as a Federation member may be in order,”