Abrik said none of these things, however. Instead, he simply stood up, reached out a hand, and said, “Thank you for your time, Mr. Ambassador.”

  Worf returned the handshake, but said nothing as he departed the lounge.

  “Dammit,” Abrik muttered.

  Then he looked over at the viewscreen. Pagro was talking.

  “—lem with determining the needs of the rehabilitation efforts is that it’s an answer that will vary. The rebuilding efforts that have fallen by the wayside since the war do need to be addressed, but we won’t be able to please everyone. I have confidence that I, at least, will be able to navigate those requests with a proper notion of resource allocation. I’m sure Governor Bacco will make all kinds of promises in that down-home style of hers about what she’s done in the past, and she’ll probably throw in a baseball reference while she’s at it. But promises don’t feed the sehlat.”

  Several members of the audience had laughed at various points, which heartened Abrik, as it meant the room was responding to him. Abrik had caught bits and pieces of the debate during his search for the ambassador, in addition to the segment he watched when entering the lounge, and with each question Pagro had grown more confident as Bacco’s answers had gotten more generic. The special emissary was used to the formal structure of the debate, and adjusting to the needs of the people he was dealing with at the moment. Bacco, as a longtime governor, was more accustomed to being the one in charge directing matters, which made her an excellent public speaker, but hamstrung her here. Both skills were, of course, of great use once one took office, but the flexibility was needed to reach that office in the first place.

  “Governor Bacco, you have one minute for rebuttal.”

  Bacco looked over at Pagro. Up until now, she had looked polite and reserved and kindly. Now, though, something was different, and Abrik wasn’t entirely sure he liked it.

  “It’s funny, I could’ve sworn this was going to be a civil debate. I mean, yeah, I was expecting a few cheap shots—and I’ll definitely give you points for the Cestus III jab. That was—to use one of those baseball references you seem to like so much—a fastball you blew right by me.” She turned to the audience. “But to take that kind of patronizing tone about my understanding of the realities of resource allocation is, to borrow from another sport for a minute, hitting below the belt. If my grandson talked to me like that, I’d wash his mouth out. It’s also bunk. Believe me, Special Emissary, I know from resource allocation. You see, back about ten years ago, a bunch of diplomats just like you decided it would be a good idea to give a bunch of Federation colonies to the Cardassians. I’m sure it looked great at the negotiating table, but the hard reality was that a lot of people had to leave their homes. About a quarter million of those wound up on Cestus III. Getting a twenty-five percent population increase all at once on a colony that has had a below-average population curve for a hundred years will tell you everything you need to know about resource allocation. So, Special Emissary, to use one of my down-home-style phrases, don’t teach this grandmother how to suck eggs.”

  The room erupted into spontaneous applause. Abrik felt his stomach shrivel up. Looking back, he realized that Pagro had pushed a little too far.

  However, recalling what the next question would be, Abrik breathed a sigh of relief. Ozla’s going to ask about the Klingons. Fel will nail this one.

  Abrik walked over to the replicator in the far corner as he heard the moderator say, “The next question for Governor Bacco is from Ozla Graniv of Seeker. The question is: Governor, how do you respond to Special Emissary Pagro’s insistence that the Klingon Empire change its ways in order to preserve the alliance?”

  Bacco shook her head and smiled. “You know it’s funny, I would’ve thought that a diplomat of Special Emissary Pagro’s standing would know better than to think that change can be effected at phaser-point. And make no mistake, that’s what we’re talking about here, because what he’s proposing is to threaten the Klingons. Thing is, change doesn’t come from threats—especially within the Klingon Empire. It also doesn’t come quickly, when you’re talking about societal norms that have been in place for thousands of years, unless there’s some kind of catastrophe associated with it. But you know what’s funny? Since the Khitomer Accords, the rate at which the Klingon Empire has conquered other worlds has decreased by seventy-five percent. Even if you slice out the first fifty years after the Accords, when the destruction of Praxis left the empire in pretty lousy shape, it’s still a sixty percent decrease. More humane medical practices are slowly becoming the norm within the empire, as well. Now, those statistics may not seem like much for ninety years’ work, but it’s a start, and it’s one that’ll have long-term benefits that won’t start another war—because that’s what we’re talking about here. Special Emissary Pagro’s threat will only serve to get more good people killed in a conflict that neither side should have to fight.” She turned to look at Pagro. “Frankly, sir, I’ve had enough of war, and I don’t see what’s to be gained by putting us in a position to fight another one. It’s, to put it mildly, a very bad allocation of our resources.”

  More applause. Abrik found himself no longer interested in drinking the allira punch he’d gotten from the replicator, and he set it down on a side table. I have got to stop underestimating that woman. Get it back, Fel, get it back.

  “Special Emissary Pagro, you have one minute for rebuttal.”

  Pagro’s lips were pursed. After a two-second pause, he finally spoke in a much tighter voice than he’d been using up until now. “The Klingons conquer people. I don’t know how much more clear I can make that. They subjugate people to their whims, and make them into second-class citizens, almost slaves. Worse, their citizens feel free to attack our embassy. We cannot countenance an ally that engages in this kind of behavior, as it violates everything we stand for.”

  Abrik put his head in his hands. Pagro sounded petulant and annoyed, and he was giving his stock answer, not responding directly to what Bacco said.

  He got up and left the VIP lounge, unable to stand watching this anymore. I should be able to catch the next moon shuttle. I need to be there for Fel when this is over and see what we can do to fix this. Even as he walked down the corridor, he started formulating possible plans of action—including, much as he hated to do it, taking the low road and starting character attacks. Bacco didn’t have very many skeletons in her closet, but she did have a now-deceased ex-husband who was a career criminal. In fact, their marriage was part of one of his cons, from what Abrik had been able to piece together. It wasn’t something that would matter much if Bacco were an ordinary citizen, but the leader of the Federation could not afford to be someone whose judgment was so poor as to fall prey to a grifter.

  That, at least, is the spin we’ll put on it, if we go that route. He had hoped to avoid such a measure, but the latest FNS polls showed Bacco gaining ground, and Abrik suspected that this debate was only going to close the gap further.

  Chapter 9

  U.S.S. Enterprise

  WHEN DATA RECEIVED the summons from the computer to the observation lounge, he had assumed that he would be speaking to Sabin Genestra, as he had been conducting ninety-two-point-seven-eight percent of his interviews in that space, with the lone exceptional case being when he interviewed Lieutenant T’Eama in the security office on deck four.

  He was therefore surprised to see that Captain Go was waiting for him in the lounge rather than Genestra. Unlike Genestra, Go had established no pattern for her interviews, having conducted them on the bridge, in the captain’s ready room, in engineering, in Ten-Forward, in the gymnasium, and in the quarters of some of the interviewees. This was her first time conducting an interview in this location, and he amended his analysis of the captain’s pattern appropriately.

  In another deviation from the norm, Go had arranged her hair in a bun at the back of her head. During the six days and four hours she’d spent on the Enterprise, Go had kept her hair—which was seven centimeters longer than it was in the most recent image of her in her service record—tied in a simple ponytail. Data wondered what the occasion was for the change in styling. He had observed that some humans were mercurial in their follicle arranging—Troi’s mother came to mind as an obvious example, as did Dr. Crusher—but Go had seemed consistent with the ponytail. However, as such a query did not fall within the purview of the inspection tour, and Go was not numbered among Data’s friends, he did not feel it was appropriate to ask the question.

  Data also noted that Go was sitting at the head of the table, in the seat that was generally occupied by Captain Picard. For his interviews, Genestra had sat on the side facing the viewport. From his extensive studies of human psychology, commenced after his dream program activated, Data deduced that, where Genestra wished to put his interview subjects at ease by speaking to them as equals, Go preferred to make it clear from her seat that she was the person in authority.

  On Data’s entrance, Go looked up from the padd she was perusing. “Ah, Mr. Data. Come in, sit down.”

  Data pulled out the chair that was perpendicular to Go’s and sat in it. “How may I be of service, Captain?”

  “I have a few questions for you, Commander.” Go’s face indicated confusion. “But I’m not sure how to phrase the first one.”

  “What is the source of your difficulty?”

  Go shook her head. “Well, normally, if an officer underwent a medical procedure equivalent to the removal of your emotion chip last year, I’d ask them how they were feeling—but that doesn’t really apply, does it?”

  “Not as such, no.”

  Now Go frowned. “What do you mean, ‘as such’?”

  “Although I no longer experience actual emotions, I still retain the memory of the emotions I felt when I was equipped with the chip. I am therefore conversant with them, and can liken them to the state of affairs in which I find myself.”

  Nodding, Go said, “Interesting.” She made several notes on her padd. “Do you think removing the chip has diminished your capacities as a Starfleet officer? I ask this mainly in light of the fact that you’re about to become first officer of this ship. You’re one year away from what was literally an emotionally crippling procedure. Do you think that will affect your ability to perform as first officer of the Enterprise?”

  Data had, in fact, given this a great deal of thought in the eleven months, two weeks, five days, three hours, and ten minutes since the Starfleet Corps of Engineers removed his emotion chip. “I do not believe that it will. The lack of an emotion chip did not factor into my ability to function as a Starfleet officer prior to its installation.”

  “Yes, but you had never had emotions then. Now you’ve lost them. Before, you didn’t know what you were missing.”

  “True. However, my positronic net is capable of functioning at peak efficiency with the addition or removal of data. In addition, my dream program was activated before the emotion chip was installed. It did not impair my ability to perform my duties. In fact, on Stardate 47226, the program proved beneficial in identifying an alien presence aboard the EnterpriseD.”

  Go made several more notes. “What if you decide to have the chip replaced? That option is available to you in the future, if you’re willing—”

  “I am aware of the stipulations regarding possible reinstatement of the chip, Captain. However, I do not believe that it will be necessary.”

  Blinking several times in rapid succession, Go set the padd down and stared at Data. “Really? Why not? Don’t you want the feelings back?”

  “When the chip was first removed, I proceeded on the assumption that someday I would be able to reclaim what I had lost. However, in the time since that removal, I have had an opportunity to compare my development before installing the chip with my development since. In sentient life, emotions are shaped by experiences, by response to stimulus. For example, human children learn love and affection from the love and affection given them by their parents. I too have learned to adjust my program to react to certain stimuli. When Commander Riker’s father died, I did not feel the same emotional grief that I felt when shipmates died in combat during the Dominion War. However, I do have a sense of loss regarding Kyle Riker—one that has also been present when others close to me have died, including my father, Noonien Soong, my grandfather, Ira Graves, and Lieutenant Tasha Yar.”

  Picking up the padd, Go made some more notes. “Interesting. So you’re saying that you can fake the emotions.”

  “I do not believe I am ‘faking’ anything, Captain. I have been close friends with Commander La Forge since he first reported aboard the EnterpriseD. While it is true that there is no feeling associated with Geordi, I do continue to seek out his company off-duty, continue to be solicitous of his well-being, continue to be concerned for his welfare, and continue to be available for him when a friend is needed, as he has been for me. When he and another crew member were believed killed on Stardate 45902, I organized a funeral service for them based on what I felt their wishes would be. I believe that these actions are entirely consistent with human friendship.”

  Go grabbed another padd and tapped instructions into it. Then she held it up for him to see. “Do you recognize this?”

  The image on the padd was that of the bridge of a Nebula-class starship. The captain’s chair was located in the center, with various consoles arranged in a circle around it. Data was moving toward the command chair, with assorted red-and gold-uniformed officers at the other positions, and Lieutenant Commander Christopher Hobson standing to Data’s left. “It is the bridge recording of the U.S.S. Sutherland from Stardate 45022.1. I was in command as part of a blockade to prevent Romulan aid from entering Klingon space to aid Lursa and B’Etor in their conflict with Chancellor Gowron.”

  “Yes. This is the part that interests me.” Go touched a control, and the playback commenced.

  Data took his seat in the captain’s chair. Hobson moved closer to Data, now standing one point three meters to Data’s left.

  “Sir.” Hobson paused. “The fleet’s been ordered to Gamma Eridon.”

  Data turned to face Hobson. “The tachyon signatures will not last long. By the time the fleet is deployed, it will be too late. Begin to reconfigure the sensors to detect ionized particle traces.” With the last sentence, Data turned back toward the main viewer.

  “The entire area’s been flooded with tachyon particles—we’ll never be able to find what we’re looking for!”

  “I am aware of the difficulties.” Data turned back to look at Hobson. “Please bring the phasers back online.”

  “That will flood three decks with radiation.” Hobson had yet to move to carry out any of Data’s orders.

  Data continued to face forward. “We will initiate radiation protocol when necessary.”

  “You don’t give a damn about the people whose lives you’re throwing away! We’re not just machines—”

  Now Data’s head turned sharply toward Hobson, his face changing expression for the first time since the playback began. Data’s features took on a more stern aspect, one that he had seen Captain Picard utilize under similar circumstances. “Mr. Hobson! You will carry out my orders, or I will relieve you of duty.”

  A pause, then Hobson finally said, “Yes, sir.” Then Hobson moved toward the starboard console.

  The playback perfectly matched Data’s own memory of the event.

  Go stopped it. “You snapped at Lieutenant Commander Hobson.”

  “Yes. Mr. Hobson was questioning my orders and obstructing our attempts to expose the cloaked Romulan ships. I have observed that in similar situations, the commanding officers under whom I have served will often speak in that tone in order to make their displeasure clear and to goad their subordinates into action.”

  “Yes, but didn’t those commanding officers do so out of frustration and anger?”

  Data considered the point. “I did not feel anger, but my efforts to expose the Romulan fleet were being frustrated.”

  Go curled half her mouth in a smirk. “Now you’re piddling over semantics.”

  “The choice of the word ‘frustration’ was yours, Captain.”

  “True.” Go picked up her other padd and made more notes. “You’ve given me a great deal more food for thought than I was expecting from this interview, Mr. Data. However, for what it’s worth, you’ve made it clear to me at least that you’re going to make a fine first officer.”

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  Go stared at him. “Okay, that sounded like a prideful expression of gratitude. But you don’t feel pride.”

  “I do, however, recognize the praise for what it is.”

  Before Data could continue the thought, Go said, “And you tailored your reaction to how you’ve observed others reacting to similar praise?”

  “Yes.”

  Shaking her head, Go said, “You remind me of my daughter. My husband and I always make it a point to be polite around her. She’s growing up to be the most well-mannered child in her class. Response to stimulus.” She made some more notes on her padd. “I have a few more questions regarding your recent missions, and Captain Picard’s performance during them.”

  Data tilted his head. “Should these questions not be asked of Captain Picard?”

  “They have been—or they will be. But I’m interested in your take on them, especially if you’re going to be Picard’s first officer.”

  Unable to deny the logic of Go’s thesis, Data said, “Very well.”

  “At the Dokaalan colony, Picard made a decision to beam twenty-seven people onto the ship despite the fact that transporters were not deemed safe for humanoid transport given the ambient radiation. Those twenty-seven people died in transport.”

  “That is correct.”

  “Do you think he made the right choice?”

  “I do not believe that the captain had another choice.”