Articles of the Federation - Keith R. A. DeCandido [72]
“All right, all right,” Gordon said and turned FNS off.
Tim looked at Natalia. “Wanna go get some dinner?”
Natalia smiled. “Sure. How about we go to that new Bajoran restaurant. I hear that Kornelius Yates likes to eat there after games. Maybe we can catch him.”
Smiling right back, Tim said, “Sure.”
Chapter Fourteen
ESPERANZA STARED AT HERSELF in the floor-length mirror in her bedroom and tried to recognize the person looking back at her.
“You look great.” Xeldara Trask’s face was on the viewer on her bedroom desk.
She couldn’t really deny Xeldara’s words. The general Palais protocol for state dinners required attendees to wear whatever was considered formal wear on their homeworlds. For Esperanza, as well as Fred, Ashante, several members of the speechwriting staff, and the president herself, that meant following the traditions of Cestus III-or, at least, Nan Bacco’s interpretations of them. Her outfit, which hadn’t been worn regularly on Cestus III since before the president was born, included a dark red high-necked jacket that was fastened all the way to the top-the top, in this case, being the ribbed neck of the jacket that went all the way up to her jawline, hugging her neck and impairing her ability to breathe. The main part of the jacket was made of velvet. At the bottom, the jacket flared outward to just below the pelvis. Under that, she wore dark blue conformer leggings that hewed to the shape of her legs down to the ankle. She also wore her hair loose, which marked the first occasion in ages when she was doing it where people could see it.
“Nobody’s dressed like this since the first time the Gorn attacked Cestus III a hundred years ago.”
“So why are you dressed like that now?”
“The president likes old-fashioned dress clothes for reasons passing understanding. At least mostly old-fashioned. From what I understand, this outfit is properly worn with heeled shoes, but I had to draw the line somewhere.”
“Glad she’s not insisting on that for everyone. I’m wearing a dress-wrap.” Tiburonian custom called for a sarong-like outfit to be worn at formal occasions.
“Right now, I’d kill to be a Tiburonian. Or a Vulcan-they just have to wear nice big formless robes.”
“You could’ve worn your Starfleet dress uniform. I’m sure the president would’ve understood.”
Esperanza turned herself away from the peculiar reflection she was now casting and looked at her deputy. “There is no circumstance under which I will ever wear that white monstrosity in public again. I grinned and bore it while I was in Starfleet, but one of the joys of resigning my commission was that I could happily burn that thing.”
“You burned your dress uniform?”
“Gleefully and with malice aforethought. I only wish I’d had marshmallows to roast over the flames.”
“I know what those weaves smell like when they burn-the marshmallows would’ve tasted awful.”
Shrugging, Esperanza said, “Good point. So everything’s set, right?”
“For the ninth time, yes. We’ve run the entire menu by the Trinni/ek scientists, taken out anything they might not be able to process, and double-checked to make sure that they can eat what’s left.”
“And they approved- “
“Yes, Esperanza, they approved the itinerary. That hasn’t changed since the last time you asked me three minutes ago, or when you asked me ten minutes ago, or when you asked me half an hour ago, or when you asked me nine times yesterday, or- “
“All right, all right,” Esperanza said, “enough. I’m just concerned.”
Ashante and Z4 had accompanied the president on her goodwill tour. While Myk had