ESPERANZA PIÑIERO SAT nursing a cobalt soda in the Blue Parrot Café, wondering if Jas Abrik was actually going to show up.

The election had begun, a laborious process involving the entirety of the Federation—all the worlds, stations, and spacefaring vessels that were part of it. The sheer number of votes to be tabulated over interstellar distances, as well as the complicated oversight, meant it would take a week for all the votes to be tallied, counted, verified, and announced.

From this point forward, both the Bacco and Pagro campaigns, which had worked tirelessly for the past three weeks, had nothing to do but wait.

And speculate. We’re doing plenty of that.

The governor’s last campaign stop had been on Pacifica, and she was now en route back to Cestus III to await the results and probably to get some sleep. Piñiero hoped that said sleep would finally be free of dreams. She knew that Bacco’s restless nights were due primarily to the stress of the campaign, and she hoped that next week, regardless of whether she was the new president or the old governor, the dreams would abate. She deserves better than that after all she’s accomplished.

Abrik had said that he would meet with her here on the eighth planet in the Sarona system at 1500 hours, but that was half an hour ago. She had never met the man during the time when they both were in Starfleet, but from what she knew of him, he was always punctual. Let’s face it, Esperanza, if he’s this late, it means he probably isn’t coming.

Her seat was near the door. Its location notwithstanding, it was one of the more private booths in the place, thanks to the café’s peculiar architecture. The Blue Parrot was built in the shape of the Saronan emblem, which was a dodecahedron that was vaguely crescent-shaped. In practical terms, it gave the place a labyrinthine feel, but it was one that made it ideal for private conversations.

Assuming, of course, that the other half of that conversation deigns to turn up.

Even if the architecture hadn’t favored privacy, the booth would have served Piñiero’s purpose nicely, as the midafternoon crowd was sparse—it was late for lunch and early for dinner. The Blue Parrot generally catered to visitors to the nearby conference center, but there were no events there at the moment.

She finished off her soda, and started debating the merits of ordering another versus giving up and leaving when she heard the familiar whine of a transporter, meaning someone was arriving via the station in the lobby.

To her surprise and relief, Jas Abrik then entered the main part of the café.

“Sorry I’m late,” the old Trill said as he sat down in the booth opposite Piñiero. “The transport I was taking here got diverted.”

“Not a problem,” Piñiero said, glad to see that Abrik’s reputation remained unscathed.

A Saronan server approached. “What may I bring you?”

Holding up her empty glass, Piñiero said, “Another cobalt soda, please.”

“An allira punch, if you’ve got it,” Abrik said.

Bowing, the Saronan said, “Of course.” She took Piñiero’s glass and departed.

“Thanks for coming, Admiral.”

Abrik made a dismissive noise. “Please don’t call me ‘Admiral,’ Commander. I left Starfleet.”

Smiling sweetly, Piñiero said, “Then don’t call me ‘Commander,’ since I haven’t been one for three years.”

“Can we get to the point, please?” Abrik shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

He doesn’t want to be here, Piñiero thought. I wonder why he bothered to show up, then. “You have access to the same polling data I do, so you know that there’s a pretty good chance that Nan Bacco’s going to be the next president.”

Abrik snapped, “In your dreams, Commander. The votes haven’t been tallied yet.”

“You’re right, they haven’t. But the FNS’s exit polls are predicting that the governor will be the winner. Do you know when the last time the FNS’s exit polls made a wrong prediction was?”

Frowning, Abrik said, “No, actually.”

“Neither do I. That’s because such a time doesn’t exist. They’ve never not called an election at this stage.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

Piñiero nodded. “True. After all, this was the first time that a Federation president resigned without warning. And you and I both know the real reason for that resignation, don’t we?”

Abrik stared at Piñiero for several seconds. For her part, Piñiero held her breath. She wasn’t entirely sure that Abrik knew the truth about Zife and Azernal arming the Tezwans, but she couldn’t believe that Abrik—a longtime admiral whose departure from Starfleet was more recent than her own—couldn’t have found out something that Piñiero herself could learn, even if her own method of obtaining the information was a direct result of Admiral Upton’s libido.

The Saronan returned with their drinks, which gave Abrik a few moments to compose an answer. And, Piñiero thought, he’s definitely composing an answer. His eyes are darting back and forth like crazy. She took a sip of her cobalt soda, the electric tingle of the blue-hued drink tickling her tongue.

After the Saronan left and Abrik took a swig of his punch, he finally said, “Assuming I know what you’re talking about—”

Paydirt, Piñiero thought. Nobody started a sentence like that unless they really did know what you were talking about. “You do, Admiral, so don’t insult my intelligence by pretending you don’t. Regardless of who wins, you’re going to reveal what you know about Tezwa.”

“Not if I don’t have to. But the Klingons have to be stopped, and we can’t call ourselves a truly free society if we’re going to let this kind of thing go on. Yes, it’ll give the Federation a black eye, but it’ll be worth it to—”

“Start another war?” At Piñiero’s words, Abrik recoiled as if she’d hit him. Pressing her advantage, she continued: “Because that’s what’s going to happen if you let this out. The Klingons will—quite justifiably, I might add—go supernova on us.”

Glaring at her, Abrik said, “So, what—I’m supposed to sit on this?”

“You have for this long, and I think that’s because you know damn well that this is way too incendiary to let out.”

Abrik clenched his fists. Piñiero tensed.

Then Abrik unclenched them, let out a long breath, and almost seemed to deflate. His posture went out the window, and he all but slumped over his punch, staring at the liquid for several seconds.

When he looked back up at Piñiero, he looked defeated. “You mind telling me something, Esperanza?”

Encouraged by the sudden familiarity, she said, “Don’t mind a bit, Jas.”

“Where the hell did you find that woman?”

Piñiero couldn’t help but laugh. “I didn’t need to find her. My parents were two of the governor’s closest friends, so I’ve literally known her all my life.”

Shaking his head, Abrik said, “She’s quite a woman. I figured she’d give us a good run for our money, but that she’d never be able to play on the big stage. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Fel’s still in shock from the first debate.”

“She really did kick his ass all over the moon, didn’t she?”

“Not at first.” He picked up the glass and started whirling the punch around in it. “He had it pretty much in the bag, and then—I don’t know what happened, it’s like she threw a switch, and we’ve been on the defensive ever since.”

“That’s what she does,” Piñiero said. “She adapts. No matter what life has thrown at her, she’s faced it head-on. Sometimes it takes her a little while to readjust, but she does it, and comes out swinging.”

That elicited a snort. “I see she’s got you doing those sports metaphors, too.”

“Occupational hazard.” Piñiero took another sip of her soda, and decided to confide a bit in him. “Honestly, I misuse the references around her, just to get her goat.”

“That’s good—I mean, it’s good that you have that kind of relationship. Builds trust.”

Piñiero took that to mean that Abrik and Pagro didn’t have that kind of relationship. Then again, it’s not like it’s necessary to do the job.

He went on. “And she’s certainly had her share of adversity—the refugees, the war.” Then he gave her a significant look. “Her ex-husband.”

Letting out a sigh, Piñiero said, “I was wondering if you knew about that.”

“I didn’t just fall out of the cargo ship, Esperanza—of course I knew about it.”

“We were really worried about whether or not you’d use it against us.”

Abrik winced. “We thought about it, honestly, but—” He hesitated. “Well, in the beginning, we didn’t think you were a big enough threat to warrant it. Later, we just figured it would come across as petty and irrelevant. And it is. I don’t like to run that kind of campaign if I can avoid it, and we wouldn’t have scored enough points with it to be worth it.”

“Speaking of things that are worth it, I need to ask you something you haven’t answered yet.” Piñiero took a sip of her soda by way of strengthening her resolve. “Do you intend to reveal what you know about Tezwa?”

“I still haven’t decided yet. I don’t think this is something that should remain a secret.”

Piñiero cursed to herself. Just as I was starting to like the guy. “Even though it will guarantee a war?”

Abrik’s glower returned full force. “A hundred and forty-seven years ago, a Tholian vessel and a Starfleet ship got into a firefight in the Corwin system. That guaranteed a war, but the Tholians retreated into their territory. A hundred and thirteen years ago, a Romulan bird-of-prey destroyed half a dozen outposts along the Neutral Zone. That guaranteed a war, but cooler heads prevailed once the Romulan ship was destroyed. That same year, the Federation and the Klingon Empire had half a dozen border disputes. That guaranteed a war, but the Organians intervened. Fifteen years later, a Klingon captain tried to steal the Genesis device. That guaranteed a war, yet, once again, cooler heads prevailed. Eighty-six years ago, Starfleet personnel assassinated Chancellor Gorkon. That guaranteed a war, but we signed the Khitomer Accords instead. Sixty-eight years ago, the Tomed incident claimed thousands of lives. That guaranteed a war, but we signed the Treaty of Algeron instead.”

Before Abrik could pull out another example of averted warfare, Piñiero said, “Seven years ago, the Klingons invaded Cardassia and pulled out of the Khitomer Accords. That guaranteed a war too, and you know what? We fought it, for over a year, and the only reason we stopped is because Cardassia joined the Dominion. And that just led to a much bigger war, one we’re still trying to recover from. How about the Cardassian War, which happened despite the best efforts of the Diplomatic Corps to normalize relations with them? How about the Tzenkethi War?”

Abrik continued to glower, but said nothing.

Neither did Piñiero. He’s not going to back off on this unless I give him something, she thought. She had been afraid that it would come to this, but she was truly hoping it wouldn’t, especially since she hadn’t discussed this with the governor or anyone else yet. Helga will have a fit, especially since she wants Ross for this. For that matter, so does the governor.

She took a sip of her soda. Well, tough. Desperate times call for doing something really crazy.

Finally, she said, “Tell me something, Jas—let’s say Pagro wins. What’s next for you?”

“A position on his staff, of course,” Abrik said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I got into this thing so I could help shape policy.”

“All right, then, how’d you like to have that chance regardless of the outcome?”

Frowning, Abrik asked, “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Piñiero said. “You know as well as I do what I mean. If you and I keep Tezwa to ourselves, I’ll make you the next security advisor to the president.”

Giving Piñiero a dubious look, Abrik asked, “You’re authorized to do that?”

“You’re not the only one who got into this to form policy. You, Jas, are sitting across the table from President Bacco’s chief of staff.”

“Assuming there is a President Bacco.”

Nodding, Piñiero said, “Assuming, yes. And if that comes to pass, you’ll be security advisor.”

“Not Ross?”

Piñiero almost sputtered her soda, thinking of what Helga was grooming the admiral for. “If Admiral Ross wanted to get into the political arena, he would have just run and had done with it,” she said, hoping to hell it was true.

“And if the FNS is wrong and President Pagro is the one making decisions?” Abrik said with a smile.

Piñiero smiled right back. “Then you can do whatever the hell you want, and this conversation will be meaningless.”

“Fair enough.” Abrik grabbed his punch glass and leaned back. Again, he started whirling the drink around, staring at the liquid as it splashed against the sides of the glass. Then he looked back at Piñiero. “The FNS isn’t wrong, is it?”

“Hasn’t been yet.” She leaned forward. “Look, Jas, this is your chance to make sure that Pagro’s agenda will still at least have a voice in the administration. We both want the same things, it’s just a question of how we go about it. You’re right, we do need to defend people who can’t defend themselves, but a kamikaze run at the Klingon Defense Force won’t do anything to help the jeghpu’wI’.”

Abrik’s mouth fell open for a moment. “The what?”

“That’s what the Klingons call their subject species. The point is, we can work to effect those changes through peaceful means. And you can help us do that—keep us on the right track. You’re the right man for the job, Jas.”

He smiled. “That, and I can screw your administration before it starts.”

“Which,” she said quickly, “doesn’t do anyone any good, unless you’re just in this to be a bastard.”

“Don’t underestimate the considerable drawing power of being a bastard, Esperanza. It can be very satisfying.”

Piñiero refused to rise to the bait. “Not nearly as satisfying as doing the job right.”

He set the glass down. “Let me ask you something. You joined Bacco’s staff after you resigned your commission, right?”

Piñiero nodded.

“Funny—before that, she was a good, solid planetary governor who never showed any inclination to be anything but that until the day she died or retired. Then, suddenly, a little while after her good friends’ daughter joins up, she decided to expand her profile.” He picked up the glass again. “I’m guessing you were the one who put the idea in her head to run for president, and that you didn’t let up until she agreed.”

“You have every reason to guess that,” Piñiero said neutrally.

Abrik chuckled. “All right, then. You, Esperanza, have yourself a deal—and a security advisor.” He moved his glass toward her in a gesture of toasting.

Picking up her cobalt soda, she did likewise. The clink of their glasses touching echoed off the wall next to them. “To the future,” she said.

“I’ll drink to that,” he replied as he gulped the last of his allira punch.