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The heavenly aroma of raspberry caressed Pińiero’s nose as she took the chilled glass from Bacco’s hands. Jewel of the Adriatic be damned, I’ll take this smell over a canal any day.

After taking a quick gulp of the cool, soothing liquid, Pińiero asked, “What’s the other question?”

“Why did Upton share this with you? I mean, I don’t know all that many admirals, certainly not as many as you do, but the impression I get is that this isn’t the kind of thing they usually blab about.”

Pińiero shifted uncomfortably. “No, ma’am.” To her surprise, Pińiero found herself embarrassed by this part, and was as reluctant to divulge it as she had been the intelligence.

“So why the hell’d he tell you?”

“I’d really rather not say, ma’am.”

Bacco grinned. “Okay, if I didn’t want to know before, I for damn sure want to know now.”

Pińiero sighed. Bacco wasn’t going to let this go—in fact, she’d hound Pińiero for days on end until she learned the truth, and the last thing either of them needed was this kind of irrelevant distraction, especially with the first debate tonight and the election a week away.

“He was hitting on me.”

Bacco was just about to take a sip of her coffee, but she managed to stop herself before she sputtered, narrowly averting a big mess on the desk. “You’re joking.”

Her mouth twisting into a scowl, Pińiero said, “It’s not like the phenomenon is unheard of, Governor.”

“I know, but still—”

“The admiral’s an old man, still single, and even though he’s got the rank, he’s basically a glorified bureaucrat. And, well—” She sipped her iced tea, then sighed. “He’s not the most attractive man I’ve ever met, either. I can see why he’d try to impress someone he was interested in with all the wonderful secrets he was in on by way of puffing himself up. He was, you know, trying to swing for the walls.”

As expected, that got a rise out of Bacco. Pińiero had to admit to getting a sadistic kick out of the reaction her deliberate malapropisms got out of the governor. In this case, it also served to alleviate her irritation over having to reveal that she got major intel like this from a sad old admiral trying to pick her up.

“Fences, dammit, not walls. If you don’t stop misusing the baseball metaphors, I swear, I’m going to have you beaten.” Bacco sighed. “Well, I guess if he’s desperate enough, he’d hit on you, yeah.”

Pińiero smiled thinly. “We can’t all be as beautiful as you, ma’am.”

“Damn right.” She took a sip of coffee. “Millions of years of evolution, and we still act like fools when we think sex might be involved. What a species.” She set down her coffee mug. “Okay, who do I have to talk to next?”

There were few things that Jas Abrik missed about Starfleet, but one of them was the ability to just ask the computer where someone was and be told their precise location.

Unfortunately, the Diplomatic Corps did not equip their ambassadors with combadges, so Abrik had to use more mundane means to track down Ambassador Worf. And he had to do it quickly. The U.S.S. Crazy Horse was scheduled to take Worf back to Qo’noS within the hour, and Abrik needed to speak with him before he left—but he hadn’t actually reported to the ship yet.

Abrik had already tried the ambassador’s foster parents in Minsk, his only family on planet. Nor was Worf at the Launching Pad or any of the other nearby bars. Finally, some ensign or other told him that he’d seen the ambassador heading for the VIP lounge at Starfleet Headquarters.

Sure enough, the massive form of the Federation ambassador to the Klingon Empire was seated in one of the chairs that dotted the dark-red-carpeted floor of the VIP lounge. Only a few other people were present—two Starfleet, the others in civilian clothes—and Abrik recognized none of them. All of them, however, were engaged in the same activity: watching the first debate between Fel Pagro and Nan Bacco.

Abrik should have been at that debate, being held in the Collins Amphitheatre on Luna, but his need to speak to Worf before he departed was great, and at this point there was nothing that Abrik could really do for