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Kav was suddenly back in his small office. Standing across from him in the small space between his desk and the door was a person he never thought he’d see again.

“Brek? Is that you?”

Brek chim Glamok nodded. Kav stood up and slammed his arm against Brek’s. “I don’t believe it! They declared you dead!”

“There were many times, my friend, that I wish I was.”

“How did you get here? What’re you doing here? You should be back on Tellar!”

“Kav, I’m only here-I’m only alive-because of Ambassador Emra and Zaarok.”

At that, Kav almost swallowed his own tongue. “Zaarok? You mean the Tzelnira Zaarok?”

“That’s who I mean, yes. He sent me because he needs our help.”

“How would the Tellarite News Service help- ?”

Brek spit at him. “No, you idiot, the Federation’s help!”

“Spare me your anger, Brek!” Kav spit right back. “You disappeared months ago. You were declared dead. Phant almost ripped all his fur out.”

“I know-and I apologize for that. It has been-difficult.”

Kav nodded in understanding. “Of course. What is it you’ve been asked to do?”

“Zaarok has a son who is dying. He was diagnosed with cal-tai a year ago.”

Frowning, Kav said, “I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s something that only Tzenkethi get, apparently-some kind of growth in their spines. They had been hoping the diagnosis was wrong, but apparently all the best doctors in the coalition checked him over. The only cure that is known is a surgical procedure that removes the growth.”

“So where does the Federation come in?”

Brek stared at Kav. “There’s only one doctor who has ever successfully performed that surgery-a Starfleet doctor named Rebecca Emmanuelli, who was a prisoner during the Tzenkethi War.”

“So let me see if I understand this,” Nan said as she ran her hand through her paper-white hair, convinced that it was all going to fall out before her second year in office was halfway done. “The son of a Tzelnira is sick, the only doctor who can save him is in Starfleet, and the Tzenkethi are willing to ship the boy here for the operation?”

Sitting across from her were Esperanza, Secretary Safranski, Kant Jorel, Z4 Blue, Myk Bunkrep, Councillor Strovos of Ardana, Admiral Akaar, and Chirurgeon P’Trell, the head of Starfleet Medical. Nan had been surprised to see that P’Trell was Caitian, considering that he had an Andorian physician’s title, but Esperanza had explained before he’d arrived that, although he was Caitian by species, he was born and raised on Andor and studied medicine there.

Esperanza said, “I wish it was that simple, ma’am. The Tzenkethi aren’t willing to ship the boy anywhere. It’s just this one Tzelnira that’s trying to make it work.”

“Ma’am,” Z4 said, “I’m pretty sure this is what Emra was trying to see you about back in January.”

“And how is this supposed to work?” Nan asked Jorel.

“Brek said a ship would be entering the Temecklia system in ten days carrying the patient.”

Nan stared intently at the Bajoran. “You believe him?”

“In general, no. Brek’s a sensationalist, and he takes ridiculous risks. But he’s also spent nine months in a Tzenkethi prison on Kliradon, where they aren’t known for treating Federation species with anything like kindness.”

“All the more reason why he’d say anything to get out,” Safranski said.

Nan looked at the Rigelian. “You think it’s a setup?”

“No, ma’am, but I think we should proceed as if we’re expecting it to be.”

Z4 said, “I can’t imagine it is a setup, ma’am. This was telegraphed almost a year ago. Yes, we should be careful, but the Tzenkethi don’t strike me as being this sloppy.”

“Reality tends to be a lot more sloppy than constructed plans,” Esperanza added.

Nan smirked. “Occam’s razor at its dullest. All right.” She turned to Akaar. “Admiral, can we meet that ship?”

“The Sugihara is in the area. I trust Captain Demitrijian to be able to smell a trap.”

“All right, get it over there, and let’s see what happens.” She turned to P’Trell. “Assuming this is on the level, how soon can this doctor