A Time for War, a Time for Peace - Keith R. A. DeCandido [33]
To the pilot in the front of the shuttle, Abrik said, “Let’s go. Oh, and give us the FNS on the viewer.”
The small screen mounted on the back of the pilot’s couch lit up with the logo of the Federation News Service, which then switched to the face of a female Pandrilite at an anchor desk.
“—gro’s speech at the Golden Gate Bridge. Regia Maldonado’s special report from Paris on the presidential candidates will be in half an hour, with commentary from former President Jaresh-Inyo, retired Starfleet admiral Norah Satie, and author Jacqueline Sharp. But first we now bring you live coverage of Governor Nan Bacco’s candidacy statement from the Statue of Liberty in New York City.”
The image switched to a podium in front of the five-hundred-year-old statue. Abrik looked down at one of his padds, wanting to go over some reports while listening to the speech.
“What the hell—?”
Abrik looked up at Pagro’s words. “What is it?”
“What is Ross doing with her?”
“Ross?” Abrik looked at the viewer again. He saw Bacco standing at the podium, along with Commander Pińiero—like Abrik, retired Starfleet, though Abrik didn’t really know the woman, and like him, the campaign manager—a Caitian Abrik didn’t recognize, a couple of humans—
—and Admiral William Ross.
Son of a bitch.
“With Ross’s support, Starfleet may not be the lock we thought it was.”
“I know that, Jas,” Pagro said through clenched teeth. “Fix this. I don’t care what you have to offer Ross, but fix this. He’s a goddamned war hero, if he throws his combadge in with her, we’re screwed.”
Abrik nodded. Dammit.
Chapter 4
Qo’noS
ALEXANDER HAD ALWAYS LOVED coming to the Federation embassy in the First City, which made being led into its conference room at gunpoint rather irritating.
“Sit down there, now.” The Klingon dressed in white barked the order while waving a disruptor that Alexander didn’t recognize, but one he knew wasn’t Defense Force or Starfleet issue. Why the kitchen stewards were taking hostages was as yet unclear. Three other stewards were in the conference room when Alexander entered, all holding disruptors. They were also the only ones standing, except for Vark, the kitchen staff supervisor. Everyone else—most of the embassy staff, as far as Alexander could tell—was seated on the floor.
The spot where Alexander had been instructed to sit was also on the floor, next to Giancarlo Wu in the northwest corner of the room. Wu looked as calm and unflappable as ever, which made him unique among the human civilians in the room. The only other people not fidgeting or complaining or shifting uncomfortably or twitching nervously were the Klingons among the hostages and the three Starfleet security guards, who’d been put in the other three corners. Aside from them, Alexander was the only one in uniform.
Since there were more than three guards assigned to the embassy, Alexander had to assume that the remaining guards were either still at large or dead. He hoped for the former, but all things considered, the latter seemed more likely.
One of the stewards held his hand to his ear. “Akor, what happened? Akor!” He looked up. “I’m not getting anything. Everyone, switch to the alternate frequency.”
The four stewards lifted the white jackets that were part of their uniforms and pressed controls on small devices they had at their waists. Alexander knew that such devices, like the disruptors, were not standard issue for the kitchen staff. Vark did the same, which meant he was in on this whole thing.
After making the adjustment, the Klingon spoke again. “Dohk, Gimor, get to the second floor, find out what happened.”
Vark stepped forward. “Have Torvak reactivate the security system. Then we can track