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“I’d not go that far, but she’s not the prime candidate for an objective opinion. Which brings us to Sabin Genestra.”

“He’s evaluating personnel and security. I can’t believe you’d have a problem with him. He’s served as the aide to half a dozen admirals, all of whom have had nothing but praise for him.”

“Seven admirals in total—including Norah Satie. He worked for her when Captain Picard disgraced her.”

Ross folded his arms. “Would you mind telling me how you got all this information?”

” ‘Tis all in the records.”

“Yes, but only if you look hard for it.”

Scotty again grabbed the end of his mustache. “You’re not the only one who does not trust Nakamura’s motives, Admiral. I had my suspicions from the minute I saw the memo that announced the Enterprise’s inspection, and so I did a wee bit of research.”

Shaking his head, Ross said, “I think you may not be giving Captain Go, Dr. Russell, or Mr. Genestra enough credit.”

“Perhaps. But I cannot believe it’s a coincidence that three of the positions on the team are occupied by people who might have personal dislikes for members of the senior staff.” Feeling a bit parched, Scotty took a sip of his tea. The now-lukewarm liquid soothed his throat. “I owe Picard and La Forge and Crusher and the rest of the people on that ship a lot. If not for them, I’d still be trapped in the Jenolen transporter buffer—or worse, my pattern would’ve degraded. And I think, after the way they took it on the chin after Rashanar, that they deserve a fair shake in this inspection tour, and that means that there should be at least one person on that team who doesn’t have an agenda against those good people.”

Rather than answer right away, Ross picked up his fork and sampled his Cajun salad. After chewing on it for several seconds, he swallowed and said, “I don’t get it. The replicator has been programmed with the exact recipe that Captain Sisko gave me for this, yet it never tastes as good as when he or his father make it. You’re an engineer, can you explain why?”

Scotty smiled, recognizing the stalling tactic and going along with it. “My sister, rest her soul, was a sculptor. A fine fine artist, she was. Could bring the clay to life. I remember when we were teenagers, I told her I could build a machine that would make a figurine that would look just like one of hers, but do it in half the time.”

“And did you?”

Chuckling at the memory, Scotty said, “Oh aye, I made the machine. We both made small figures of our da. Both looked like him, but hers felt like him. I got the size of his nose right, but she got that look on his face he always had whenever we did somethin’ wrong. ‘Twas that day I realized the difference between art and science—and that my way lay toward the latter.” He chuckled. “Replicators are science, Admiral, and cooking, as I’m sure your Captain Sisko would tell you, is most definitely an art.”

“That he would.” Ross put the fork down. “I’ll talk to Admiral Nakamura, tell him I’m recommending you for the Enterprise inspection team. Assuming he approves—and I’ll make sure he does—consider yourself on temporary reassignment from the S.C.E. for the duration of the inspection.”

Grinning, Scotty speared the last bit of meat on his plate. “Thank you very much, sir.”

Chapter 6

Qo’noS

ON THE DAY PRESIDENT ZIFE RESIGNED, Ambassador Worf was injured while risking his life in order to liberate the Federation embassy from the terrorists who had taken it over.

The subsequent two weeks made him nostalgic for that day.

Once he subdued Torvak and his guard—a task made easier by Worf’s loaded conversation with Rov, which sent the Klahb leader into a panic—and was able to reactivate the security system, ending the siege of the embassy was simple work. Once he rendered everyone unconscious, he retrieved Kl’rt, the bodies of the other two Klingons, and his Ferengi phaser from the sub-subbasement, taking the time to stun Kl’rt first. It was a laborious process with only one functioning arm, but necessary—Worf wasn’t prepared to share the intelligence about the