ALONG WITH HJATYN and the other seven council members, Creij took her place at the large table that was the most significant feature of the ruling body’s meeting chamber.

As did nearly everything else in the room, the table’s design reflected function rather than form. The bulkheads were bare metal plating just like every other wall in the colony, uncluttered for the most part by artwork or other embellishments for the sake of the room’s occupants. Even the chairs used by the council members, salvaged from a passenger transport long since retired from service, were in need of new upholstery. Hjatyn, as always, had deferred such priorities in favor of focusing on the council’s real responsibilities.

The chamber’s sole capitulation to decoration was a painting that portrayed a sunrise as seen from Egiun, the botanical gardens that had once graced the center of Dokaal’s capital city of Wyjaed. Rendered by one of the elder citizens who had survived the planet’s destruction, it had been presented to the council as a gift upon the completion of the central habitat. Creij herself had always been enamored with the painting, for some reason seeking comfort in the tranquillity it depicted. Even though she had been born after the disaster, it was as though the scene reached out to her and offered a tenuous link to a world she had never known.

At the moment, however, even the painting could not soothe her anxiety.

“My friends,” Hjatyn began as he settled himself into his seat, “this is a wondrous time for us, even without our new guests. Our people are counting on us for confidence and leadership, particularly now. We cannot afford to lapse in our duties, either together or as individuals. I am looking to each of you to continue displaying the same calm and poise you have demonstrated to this point. Do you not agree that this is the best course of action, for all our sakes?”

The other council members all voiced their approval, Creij included, but the anxiety she already felt only deepened when Hjatyn turned his attention to her.

“Creij,” the first minister said, “you have been troubled of late, my friend. How can we help?”

It was true that she was worried, about Hjatyn. Creij was sure something was wrong with the first minister, though it was nothing she could easily explain and there seemed to be nothing empirical on which to base her suspicions. At first, she had been hesitant to mention anything, wondering if perhaps Hjatyn simply was feeling the pressures of his enormous responsibilities. The first minister had always taken more work upon himself than normally was required for a person in his position, reluctant to delegate even the most mundane of tasks to other council members or his cadre of assistants. While this sometimes had the effect of aggravating his fellow leaders, it was one of the many qualities that endeared him to the rest of the Dokaalan people.

Even before ascending to the Zahanzei Council as science minister and becoming one of its longest-serving members, Creij had been a friend of Hjatyn’s for nearly all of her adult life. Among the first children born here on the colonies after the loss of Dokaal, Creij was one of the many who had looked to the council for guidance. As an adult, she had discovered a way to return that gift, using her natural affinity for interacting with people in order to help them find the strength to carry on with the Dokaalan’s makeshift existence. It was a function she continued to perform even as she moved into public office, providing support and assurance for the citizens as well as fellow members of the council, including the first minister himself.

More than anyone, Creij believed she knew Hjatyn best, which was why she had finally decided to confront her friend with her concerns at the earliest opportunity.

She had just not expected that chance to come now.

As if sensing Creij’s unease, Hjatyn asked, “Come now, surely you can unburden yourself to us. After all the times we have come to you for your wisdom and strength, it is only fair that we return the favor.”

Nodding, Creij said, “I have sensed some things that worry me, yes. While I was at first fearful of these visitors, I now believe that they truly wish to help us. Many of the people feel the same way, but many more are expressing uneasiness, even distrust, toward the visitors. Those feelings are being reflected here among the council, and I fear that our divided positions will only serve to make matters worse.”

“Come now,” said Nidan, minister of security, another senior member who had served nearly as long as Creij himself, “are you suggesting we cast aside all thoughts of caution and welcome these newcomers with open arms? We cannot possibly know or understand their true motives after such a short time.”

To Creij’s right, Council Member Ryndai said, “As the first minister has already pointed out, if they are seeking something then they hardly need to engage in deception, to say nothing of making the effort to rescue the miners on Outpost Takir.”

Nodding enthusiastically at her friend’s words, Creij was heartened to hear someone else echo her feelings. She knew that others on the council felt the same way, and hoped that they would take advantage of this forum to air their views, as well.

Of course, not everyone felt the same way.

“Twenty-five people did die in the attempt,” Nidan said.

“As did two of their own,” Ryndai countered. “Are you suggesting they would sacrifice their own people to gain our trust as part of some elaborate ruse? I think you spend too much of your free time reading those mystery stories.” The comment prompted several chuckles around the table, and even Nidan joined in.

“The point I am laboring to make,” Nidan replied, “is that we know nothing about these people. We do not know what they are capable of, or how they value life. It may be commonplace for them to execute subordinates for the most inane of reasons. Obviously I hope that is not true, and that they are who they claim to be. I have seen how uplifting their arrival has been for the populace, but I am saying we should remain cautious until we learn more about them. Is that so unreasonable?”

Creij said, “Of course we should be careful, but not to the point where we begin to alienate them. They have traveled a great distance to find us, and now that they are here they have offered to help us realize our greatest goal since we were forced to make a life here for ourselves. Should we not at least consider what they can provide for us?”

She was convinced that what they had seen of the Enterprise was but a tantalizing preview of the vessel’s remarkable capabilities, and she could not wait to see them for herself. Though Captain Picard had graciously allowed a schedule of guided tours of his vessel to anyone who might be interested, Creij had not yet had the opportunity to act on the gesture. Soon enough, she promised herself.

“But what is the price of that aid, Creij?” Hjatyn asked. “Suppose we accept their help. What will they ask for in return? Will we be willing or even able to give whatever that might be? What if they present us with an ultimatum? Perhaps they have powerful weapons on that ship of theirs, just waiting to be used should we refuse their demands.”

Ryndai said, “With all respect, First Minister, what could we possibly have that they could not take by force? We have seen enough of their technology to know that they can destroy us without a second thought if they so desire.”

“There is something else to consider,” Hjatyn said. “What about our commitment to honor those lost on Dokaal by creating our new home on our own?”

Shaking her head, Creij replied, “When we made that pledge, did any of us truly consider the possibility of a ship visiting us from the stars with the ability to help us in ways we could scarcely dare to imagine? I know that I did not, but they are here now. With their aid we would have a much better chance of completing the project successfully, and perhaps even faster than we originally planned.”

At their present rate of progress, Creij knew that despite the best efforts of everyone on her reformation team, the conversion of Ijuuka into a habitable world would not be completed in her lifetime. With Federation assistance, there was the distinct possibility that, for the first time in her life, she would be able to walk on the surface of a real planet and breathe nonrecycled air with the rays of their sun warming her skin. Was it selfish of her to want that for herself? She did not believe that allowing Captain Picard and his people to contribute to the project would somehow cheapen what the Dokaalan were trying to accomplish here.

Her comments sparked several moments of debate, with the members doing their best to outtalk one another as they debated the positives and the negatives, before Hjatyn called the council back to order.

“It is obvious that we will have much to discuss in the days ahead,” he said. “There is no need to rush into any decision.” Looking to Creij, he added, “You have given me much to think about, my friend. While I am not yet completely comfortable with our guests, I feel better about them now than I did before listening to you. Once again your guidance has proven invaluable.”

After determining that there was no further council business, Hjatyn adjourned the meeting. As the members moved to file out of the chamber and return to their various duties, Creij felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Ryndai smiling at her.

“Do not worry, Creij,” her friend said. “They will come around, but they must do so on their own. Hjatyn has always done what is best for us regardless of his own feelings. Soon even he will realize that these Federation people are a blessing from Dokaa.” Taking a deep, satisfied breath, he added, “Just think, we may yet walk on Ijuuka.”

“I hope you are right,” Creij replied. “I understand his caution, but it is not normal for Hjatyn to be so resistant to any new idea. His open-mindedness has always been his hallmark as a leader.”

Ryndai chuckled. “Do not judge him too harshly. After all, how many times has his leadership been tested in this manner?”

Unable to help herself, Creij returned the laughter as the pair began to make their way toward the door. Before they could exit the council chamber, however, she heard another voice from behind her.

“Creij, Ryndai.” It was Nidan, and Creij saw from the look on his face that the security minister was evidently unhappy about something. “A moment if you please.”

His own features clouding with concern, Ryndai asked, “What is it, Nidan? Are you still troubled?”

“I have a delicate matter to discuss with both of you,” Nidan replied. Looking about the room as if afraid he might be overheard, Nidan gestured toward another door with his hand. “Perhaps it would be better if we speak in my office.”

Creij exchanged confused looks with Ryndai. What was this about? Was there some pressing security situation that required their attention? Even if that were so, such matters were almost always discussed with the rest of the council.

They followed the security minister through the door separating the council chamber from the small room he used for his office. Like Nidan himself, the workspace was a picture of order and efficiency.

The only things that seemed out of place were the two security officers waiting in the room as the two council members stepped through the door.

“What is this about?” Creij asked as Nidan entered the room behind them and pressed a control that closed the door.

Instead of replying to her, the security minister instead turned to his two subordinates.

“Dispose of them quietly.”