What Judgments Come

I’m damned if I know.

“Very well,” he said after a moment. “Commander ch’Nayla, Lieutenant T’Pry

7

Music filled the evening air over Paradise City.

Ambassador Jetanien stepped from his third-story office onto his small balcony, itself the lone architectural indulgence he had allowed himself when outlining his facility needs to the Corps of Engineers attachment tasked with the building’s construction. His vantage point offered him an unobstructed view of the city’s main courtyard, and out here the music was loud and vibrant. Not that the song being played necessarily was to his liking—he believed it to be an inventive take on a traditional Tellarite work chantey—but it was a vast improvement over construction noise, shouts of disagreement, or other flavors of cacophony he had grown accustomed to hearing in recent weeks.

Leaning over the balcony railing, Jetanien looked down at the street to find the source of the song. He saw what appeared to be the begi

“Happy Great Hope Day!”

Turning at the sound of the voice, Jetanien stepped back into his office to find his administrative attachй, Sergio Moreno, waiting for him. Extending his manus in greeting to the smiling, brown-ski

Moreno returned the gesture by clasping Jetanien’s scaled mitt within his hands. “Are you watching the celebration? I think we’re getting a great turnout.”

“As this is likely to be the only social event this evening in Paradise City, let alone on all of Nimbus III,” Jetanien said, “I would certainly hope so.” He added a few clicks of laughter that seemed to cause Moreno’s smile to fade. “Don’t get me wrong, Sergio. I’m very encouraged by what I see.”

“Your plan to create a citywide celebration is being well received, Ambassador,” Moreno said as he released Jetanien’s manus. “A new holiday we can call our own is not only a great unifier, but a boost to morale after a lot of hard work.”

Jetanien felt a small surge of pride upon hearing that. While not overly grand in scope, the street festival to celebrate Great Hope Day had been his idea, and it certainly was something he hoped might succeed enough to continue as an a

“New holiday?” Jetanien asked. “I appreciate your optimism, Sergio, and I can only hope that it’s contagious.”

“I’ll do my best to spread it,” Moreno replied as Jetanien settled onto his glenget, a special chair constructed to fit his large, ungainly physique, which allowed him comfortable access to his large stained-wood desk. “Will you be going to the festival yourself?”

“Of course,” Jetanien said. “I first have a brief meeting to attend, after which I shall do my level best to … what do you humans say? Dance the night away.”

Sergio asked, “Then you have time for a few progress reports? Unless you would prefer that I submit them at our morning meeting.”

Jetanien twisted his mandible to affect an expression he had learned best approximated a human’s smile. “You aren’t seeking an excuse to avoid the celebration yourself, are you, Sergio? Surely the smell of the Klingon food isn’t enough to keep you off the streets tonight.”

The attachй smiled. “No, Ambassador, I’ll be going. Actually, I’m waiting for S’anra to arrive so I can accompany her this evening.”

Recognizing the name, Jetanien nodded in approval. “And is this your first date with a Romulan, my good man?”

“Oh, no,” Sergio replied, though Jetanien noticed the color shift in his face indicating the young man was embarrassed.

“Ah!” the ambassador exclaimed. “So, you make a habit of entertaining Romulan women? And what would your mother say?”

Moreno seemed to trip over his own laughter before replying, “No, Ambassador, I mean that this isn’t a date. We’re simply immersing ourselves in the idea of ‘cultural exchange.’ It’s actually more of a wager, to be honest.”

This piqued Jetanien’s curiosity. “How so?”

“We’re each going to see who can find the most foods that the other will like,” Moreno replied. “I talked one of the vendors into using my grandfather’s recipe for chorizo. Very smoky and very spicy. Any Romulan would love it.”

Jetanien nodded. “And I trust you know just what you’ll be letting yourself in for?”

“Oh, I’m fine with anything but the Andorian dishes,” Moreno said. “I’m just not into tuber root and cabbage. I need more meat.”

The chime to Jetanien’s office door sounded, interrupting their discussion. “Come in,” he called out, and the door slid aside to reveal an aged Romulan male, his thin white hair neatly trimmed around his pointed ears. Straight bangs all but covered his brow, and his face, deeply lined and wan, contrasted with the ruddy ceremonial robes draping his withered body.

“Senator D’tran,” Jetanien said, surprised and happy at the sight of his guest. “Please, join me. My aide was just leaving.”

If Moreno was at all surprised by his abrupt dismissal, he did not reveal it through facial expression or body language, a response Jetanien noted as indicating a level of self-control that would befit a successful member of the Diplomatic Corps. Sergio Moreno was the youngest and least experienced of Jetanien’s two-member staff on Nimbus III, but the ambassador considered him well suited to the challenges that came with the significant if not historic mission of overseeing the prototype community of Paradise City. The young man’s soft-spoken demeanor and amiable, accommodating approach to problem-solving seemed to ingratiate him to the diverse local population, which certainly could benefit from as much social lubrication as Jetanien’s office might provide.

“Yes, Senator, I was,” Moreno said. “And Happy Great Hope Day to you, sir.” When D’tran said nothing, the attachй returned his attention to Jetanien. “Enjoy your evening, Ambassador. Should you need me for any reason, don’t hesitate to call.”

Jetanien shook his head. “I ca

That prompted D’tran’s first words since his arrival. “She is sure to inform you that her duties in my office will start promptly at our usual hour in the morning.” His voice was low and raspy with age, lending it an edge of intimidation that evoked a wide-eyed expression from Moreno. “And if she does not inform you, you will inform her.” When D’tran’s eyes met Jetanien’s, it was all the ambassador could do not to laugh.