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“You’ll have it, ma’am,” Piniero said.

“Good. See you all soon.”

Everyone in the room, with the notable exception of Molmaan, said, “Thank you, Madam President.”

Abrik himself only said it because it was proper and it was expected. It certainly wasn’t a sign of respect. He had a feeling that President Bacco was going to lead the Federation to ruin.

March 2380

“Success is the ability to go from one failure to another with no loss of enthusiasm.”

- Winston Churchill

Chapter Seven

COME ON, ALREADY! Sephara directed the thought at her roommate. It’s going to start!

Using her voice, Gira said, “I’m coming, I’m coming,” from the other room.

Sephara sighed. For some reason, Gira always preferred to use clunky vocal communication instead of speaking telepathically like any sensible Betazoid. It wasn’t as if they were dealing with weird flatbrain aliens who could only communicate verbally.

But then, ever since Enaren University’s housing department had seen fit to put Gira and Sephara together, the latter had spent most of her time wondering about the eccentricities of the former.

Gira came in holding a bowl full of hilrep fruit in her right hand. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Sephara’s face scrunched up in annoyance. I’m allergic to hilrep!

“Ow!” Gira put her left hand to her forehead. “You don’t have to broadcast so loud.”

You could have brought a fruit that I can eat.

“You said you weren’t hungry.” Gira fell, more than sat, on the couch, her body language echoing her thoughts, which indicated irritation with her roommate.

Well, Sephara had plenty of irritation to throw back at her. Giving up on speaking telepathically-honestly, it was like talking to a child-she said, “I said I didn’t want a meal. There’s a big difference between eating a meal and munching on fruit while we watch ICL.”

“I’m sorry, but hilrep is all we have in the pantry.”

“I thought you were going shopping.”

Sephara read guilt in Gira’s thoughts as she said, “I never said that.”

Aghast at so bald-faced a lie, Sephara sat down in the easy chair, as far from Gira as possible. Since the war, replicators on Betazed were at a premium, and university dorm rooms didn’t have them as a power-saving endeavor. Sephara had always found that ridiculous, but nobody had asked her.

Fine. I’ll just sit here and eat nothing while you munch on your filthy hilrep. Sephara then picked up the remote unit and activated the holo unit that would show them the discussion program they needed to see as a requirement for their political studies class.

The image in the center of the room lit up with four people sitting at a desk: the Kriosian host, Velisa, along with a female human in a Starfleet uniform, a male human wearing a suit that Sephara found hideous, and an Antedean of indeterminate gender who looked just like Sephara’s seafood dinner last night. Behind them, a viewscreen was visible, showing a Vulcan woman.

“Good evening. This is Illuminating the City of Light, I’m your host, Velisa. Originally, we were going to be spending our time talking about the war between President Bacco and the rest of the Federation Council that has been going on for the past six weeks-however, this morning, FNS broke the story that a ship full of Reman refugees is heading for Federation Neutral Zone Outpost 22 at low warp and will be in Federation space within a few days. We’ll be getting to the president’s problems with the council soon enough, but we’ll be discussing the Remans first. With me tonight to do that are Admiral Kathryn Janeway of Starfleet; Edmund Atkinson, a political reporter for the Times; Councillor Selora Quintor of Antede III; and, remotely from the Palais de la Concorde in Paris, we have Sorlak, associate counsel in the Palais legal office. Welcome, all of you.”

The panelists all made indications of acknowledgment, except for the Antedean, who seemed to just wiggle. Sephara found it gross.

“Sorlak, I’d like to start with you,” Velisa said, looking back at the viewscreen. “What are the legal ramifications of these Remans asking for asylum?”

“It