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Sitting back down, Bacco said, “Of course I don’t remember. I’m old and feeble, I haven’t had enough coffee, and you’re giving me nonsense about the Romulans.” Looking at the desk, she asked, “So where is it?”

“Just tell the computer what you—”

“Computer, coffee, black, unsweetened.”

A mug of coffee materialized in the center of the desk, right next to the com unit.

Taking the steaming mug in hand and smelling its contents, Bacco said, “I think I can get used to this.” She took a quick sip, set the mug down, then said, “All right, what’re we doing about the Romulans?”

Consulting the padd on her lap, Pińiero said, “You’re meeting with their ambassador, as well as Ambassador Spock, at 1300.”

Bacco frowned. “Spock? Does he know anything about Romulans?”

Panic gripped Pińiero. Oh no, please, no, don’t let this happen, not now. “Uh, ma’am, Ambassador Spock has lived on Romulus, and—”

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Esperanza, that was a joke.”

Pińiero tried to regulate her breathing. “Ma’am, you really can’t do that as often as you used to.”

“When it’s just you and me in the room? Like hell, I can’t. Don’t forget, I changed your diapers.”

“I couldn’t possibly forget with you reminding me every five minutes, ma’am. In any case, there’s another situation.”

“Naturally.”

“The Deltans’ water reclamation system is horribly out of date and falling apart. They like the system on Gault and wish to utilize it.”

“So let ‘em.”

Pińiero winced. “The problem is that the one on Gault is actually a Carreon design, and the Carreon refuse to allow the Deltans to use it.”

Bacco rolled her eyes. “Of course they do. How can we talk the Carreon into it?”

“That’s what I’m going to ask the Carreon ambassador when I meet with him this morning.”

“Good. What’s next?”

Pińiero went through the day’s meetings and events and happenings. Most of the staff was in place now. Fred MacDougan had taken over as communications director, with Ashanté Phiri serving as Esperanza’s deputy chief of staff. Jas Abrik had accepted the position as security advisor, a move that turned many heads. Kant Jorel, the Federation Council’s press liaison, also worked for the president, so Bacco and Pińiero had both strongly recommended M’Tesint to now-Governor Gari on Cestus III to replace the woefully inadequate Piers Renault. Helga Fontaine had moved on, currently running the campaign of a minister on Kharzh’ulla.

When she was finished, Bacco said, “Good. I’ve got my security briefing, where I’m sure I’ll get an earful from Abrik about the Romulans. We really had to take him on?”

Nodding, Pińiero said, “Yes. And you know why.”

“Know, yes. Like, no. Go on, get out of here and talk to the Carreon ambassador before they decide to go to war with the Deltans again.”

Rising from the guest chair, tucking her padd under her arm, Pińiero said, “Thank you, Madam President.”

She turned to leave the office, her feet not making a sound as they pressed against the soft white carpet.

“Oh, Esperanza?”

Stopping and turning around just as the security guard opened the door for her, Pińiero said, “Ma’am?”

Bacco gave Pińiero a warm smile. Not the smile she used when she was giving people a hard time or when she was talking about baseball. This was a heartfelt smile that she usually saved only for family. “Thank you for talking me into doing this.”

Pińiero gave her an equally warm smile in return—and for that moment, they weren’t president and chief of staff, or even governor and campaign manager, but two old friends sharing a happy moment. “No need to thank me—just do the job right.”

The red-hued river flowed down from the distant mountain, its current splashing regularly against the black rocks.

Kahless ran a brush over his canvas, transferring the black paint from the bristles onto its target. For this painting, he had decided to begin with the rocks. The fortra flowers were no longer in bloom—his “rescue” by the Enterprise meant that re-creating that particular vista was