Summon the Thunder

It was Sovik who replied, “The Federation has held to its declaration that no armed action would be taken against the Tholian Assembly in the wake of the Bombay’s destruction. That should have earned us a modicum of trust with Ambassador Sesrene by now.” Clasping his hands before him and interlocking his fingers in what Jetanien recognized as a Vulcan meditative posture, the envoy added, “The Tholian delegation may be more inclined to a series of discussions apart from the Klingons. While more lengthy, such an approach may prove more fruitful.”

“Not acceptable,” Jetanien said, slapping his webbed manus on the table. “We do not have that kind of time, Mr. Sovik. With that in mind, how do we proceed in getting the ambassadors face to face?”

Sandesjo frowned. “Short of lying to them?”

Shrugging, the ambassador replied, “Let’s hold that strategy in reserve as a final option.” His remark brought a sly smile to his attaché’s face, a gesture that he returned as best he was able given his lack of malleable facial features.

“It’s more of a function of getting the Tholians here,” Karumé said. “As I mentioned, Lugok is more than interested in sitting down.”

His brow furrowing in obvious concern, Meyer asked, “But will he stay down?”

“That may depend,” she answered, looking into the envoy’s bleary eyes, “on whether you can keep your comments about his family to yourself.”

As Meyer opened his mouth to respond, Jetanien rose from his glenget. “It’s enough that I have to prepare myself for such bickering between the diplomatic delegations,” he said in a loud voice, bringing Karumé and Meyer to pause. “This summit is too important to the Federation to jeopardize with posturing and pettiness amongst my staff. Am I clear?”

What he did not say, however, and what burned within him was his heartfelt belief in the importance of the summit’s success to himself. This was an unprecedented opportunity which had been handed to him, and he was well aware of the necessity to craft a positive, lasting resolution that would benefit not only the Federation but also its interstellar neighbors for decades to come. He was acutely aware of the situation in which he found himself, and that he—as well as any decisions he made here—might very well be judged in historical texts and classrooms long after he had departed this mortal plane.

I came to the Diplomatic Corps to make a difference, to leave a legacy of some sort,he thought as he looked around the table to see each envoy nod in response to his harsh question. Nothing I have done until now is as vital as what I must do here. I must not fail, nor can I allow my staff to failme.

“Mr. Sovik,” Jetanien said after a moment and as he returned to his perch, his usual calm demeanor once again reflected in his voice, “we’ve each had our dealings with Ambassador Sesrene, and I’m sure you’ll agree that he’s a very guarded being. However, what is the one thing that even Sesrene ca

The Vulcan nodded, obviously understanding the track the conversation was taking. “His desire for information, Your Excellency, particularly pertaining to the motives of anyone with interests in the Taurus Reach.”

“Correct,” Jetanien said, capping the word with a few satisfied clicks before looking once more to the rest of his staff. “Therefore, as part of our effort to make this summit more enticing to its participants, we tell the Klingons that the Tholian delegation intends to offer an explanation for their aggressive strikes against the empire…”

Smiling, Karumé finished the thought for him. “While a well-placed suggestion to the Tholians that the Klingons are coming to the table with a willingness to reveal details of theirplans for the Reach just might prove tempting enough that they would attend if only to learn something new.”

“As they say,” added Meyer as he offered an approving nod, “you’re more likely to draw flies with honey than with vinegar.”

“Are you trying to make me hungry, Mr. Meyer?” Jetanien asked, releasing a deep basso laugh as Meyer returned a sour expression. “A lesson in appropriate comedic timing as well as in diplomacy. You’re doing quite well today.” To the rest of the group, he said, “Now, let us try again to persuade our respective delegations that there is something to be gained for all of us by sitting down and settling these matters of conflict. I expect reports from each of you as soon as you’ve succeeded in establishing a meeting time and agenda. Dismissed.”

Lingering as her colleagues rose from their seats and filed out of the room on their way to attend to their respective tasks, Sandesjo approached Jetanien as he finished his broth. “If I may, Your Excellency,” she said with a hint of a grin, “shall I presume that our final option turned out to be…?”

“The best choice?” Jetanien said, rising again to his feet. “No, you should not. I view this course of persuasion as less of a lie and more a case of wishful thinking. I’d hope that our guests, once we gather in an atmosphere of cooperation and goodwill, might rise above their reactive natures and come to an objective understanding that the Taurus Reach has room enough for us all.”

Frowning, Sandesjo replied, “That is a lofty expectation, Your Excellency.”

“Well, I should expect no less of them than I do of myself, yes?”

No, I should not. I will not risk what might be the foundation for a new chapter in the Taurus Reach— one written by me.

Hurrying from Jetanien’s offices toward the privacy of her own quarters, Sandesjo imagined that word of the impending summit meeting and the possibilities it afforded the Klingon Empire might make it back to Ambassador Lugok in time for him to exploit the situation in his favor.

If Lugok knows ahead of time that the Tholians are expecting to hear something about Klingon activity,she thought, he has the chance to play them directly into the empire’s hands. Now, I just need to get to Turag….

Her head bowed, her legs striding forward purposefully, she made her way down a corridor that emptied into a station for the tram tube that encircled Starbase 47’s terrestrial enclosure within its disk-shaped primary hull. As she came upon the crowd of passengers who had just exited the tram, her reverie was broken as she heard someone calling her name.

“A

She looked up to see the station’s archaeology and anthropology officer— What was his name again? Xiong, yes—tentatively waving with one hand over the scattering of people between them as she started to enter the tram.

“Hello!” she replied in greeting, trying to sound enthusiastic about seeing him. “I’m sorry, I’d wait for the next one, but I’m already late for an appointment,” she lied as she stepped across the threshold of the tram car.

“It’s okay,” Xiong said, lowering his hand as well as his gaze. “Maybe I’ll see you before the Endeavourships out again.”

TheEndeavour, she remembered, of course. Sandesjo was aware that Xiong had returned to the station with the starship the previous day, and she also had seen the notice regarding the memorial service for the vessel’s well-regarded captain as well as other Starfleet perso

Sandesjo turned to face the young lieutenant from where she stood just inside the tram’s doors. “I’m not going anywhere,” she said, offering a small, wistful smile and arching her eyebrows suggestively as the doors began to close. Xiong perked up at that, and Sandesjo found herself considering—if only for a moment—any possible merits of seeing the young lieutenant in a social context.

Mildly attractive, for a human, I suppose,she decided, and while the lieutenant appeared to display a satisfactory level of fitness for a member of his species, she worried about his ability to withstand any sort of physical activity that might result from a more intimate encounter. Such bruising and broken bones would be difficult to explain to a superior officer, after all.