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“What in the name of the Grand Nagus is going on out here?”

Kira looked over at the perturbed Ferengi, and smiled. “Good to see you, too, Quark. I need your help.”

9

Starbase 24 In Orbit of Korvis IX United Federation of Planets

Jean-Luc Picard was furious.

He beamed onto the two-person platform in the anteroom outside Starbase 24’s commandant’s office. A young Bolian ensign sat at a desk. “Captain Picard,” she said. “The admiral’s waiting for you.”

Picard had just enough tattered remains of his comportment to mean it when he said, “Thank you.” After all, it wasn’t the ensign’s fault.

He headed for the large wooden doors emblazoned with the Starfleet delta, which obligingly parted at his approach.

Admiral Vance Haden sat behind his desk, reading over a padd, but he looked up when Picard entered. He’d added a few bags under his eyes in the months since Picard saw him last. The war had that effect on people.

“Good to see you, Jean-Luc.”

“It is good to be seen, Vance. There were moments when I had my doubts.”

Setting down the padd and indicating the guest chair, Haden said, “Have a seat.” In contrast, Haden got up and went to the replicator. “You look like you could use a drink.”

Closing his eyes, Picard found himself imagining the family vineyard on Labarre. He didn’t think of the place often-more since his brother and nephew died in a fire two years ago-but now, he recalled sitting in the living room with Robert, drinking the ’47 Merlot, after they’d had their ridiculous fight in the mud.

Sad when the war has gone so badly that I’m thinking back fondly on my recovery from being assimilated. “A glass of red wine would be lovely. Merlot, if you please.”

To the replicator, Haden said, “Computer, two drinks, alcoholic. A glass of Merlot and a shot of Bushmills 21.”

Picard raised an eyebrow. “Alcoholic?” Starfleet regulations stipulated that officers could drink only syntheholic liquor while on duty.

“Admiral’s privilege. Or wartime exception. Call it what you want.” The drinks materialized with a hum, and Haden brought them to his desk, handing Picard a long-stemmed glass while keeping a square, thick-bottomed glass of amber liquid for himself. Picard twirled the wine around, disappointed to see it had no legs. But then, this was a replicated wine…

Raising his glass, Haden said, “To Khitomer.”

“To Khitomer, which remains a Klingon planet.”

They both drank. The Merlot was a bit harsh, but fairly fruity for all that. “I compliment whoever programmed your replicator.”

Haden smiled. “The same engineer who turned me on to this stuff. Never used to be much of a whiskey drinker, then I had Bushmills 21 for the first time, and now I can’t drink anything else without being disappointed.” Haden set down the glass and gave Picard one of his patented wide-eyed stares. “What happened, Jean-Luc?”

“Martok, for reasons passing understanding, diverted Captain Kirros’s fleet to H’atoria.”

“What?” Haden blinked, then slugged down some more whiskey. “The Romulans took H’atoria three months ago! Did he really think one fleet was gonna get it back?”

“Apparently. And it left us vulnerable at Khitomer. We were able to win the day thanks to my new first officer’s creative weapons-firing skills.”

Haden nodded. “How is Worf working out?”

“He’s a fine first officer.”

“But you’re not happy that you had to promote him?”

Picard sighed, and sipped his wine to cover his annoyance. He was being selfish, he knew that, and yet…“Captain Riker and Captain Data deserved their promotions. The Sugihara and the Sutherland couldn’t ask for better shipmasters. I-”

“You miss them. I get it. You know who my first officer was back in the day on the Carthage? Rachel Garrett. Hurt like hell to lose her to the Enterprise-C, but I got over it. And she did okay in the big chair.”

That was an understatement. Garrett’s tenure as the last person before Picard to command a ship named Enterprise was historic. It ended tragically and heroically, as the ship was destroyed defending Narendra III, a Klingon world,