Myriad Universes 02_ Echoes and Refractions - Keith R. A. DeCandido [79]
Upon the stage, beside the podium where the president was making his introductory speech to open the session, a conference table had been set. To one side, next to the president’s empty chair sat the Vulcan vice president, Sentek, alongside Starfleet Admirals West and Thelin. At the other end of the table, Chancellor Gorkon of the Klingon Empire was seated with his daughter Azetbur, who, as senior councillor, assumed most of the roles of second in command; his chief of staff, General Chang; and his military adviser, Brigadier Kerla. Throughout the hall, rows upon rows of spectator seating remained unoccupied save for a court reporter and two security officers. Barring a massive failure of the treaty negotiations, those seats would soon be filled with diplomats, dignitaries, and press, poised to hear the announcement of peaceable accords between the two galactic superpowers. But for now, the session was closed, for without mutually acceptable terms, the cessation of hostilities remained tenuous and unsettled.
“Relief efforts are ongoing,” the president continued, “and the unprecedented cooperation between Federation and Klingon organizations and agencies committed to the welfare of all our civilian populations bodes quite well for the future of our relations as we press forward into this new and undiscovered realm.”
Thelin gazed across the table at the leaders of the Klingon people, who gave the outward appearance of being defeated in every sense of the word. Despite Ra-ghoratreii’s earnest attempts to keep the tone of the occasion positive and uplifting, Gorkon let his head hang low, his eyes staring down at the table, his ears barely catching a word spoken thus far in the proceedings.
“Yet in the shadow of death, new life is brought forth: Our best scientific research teams have concluded that Praxis is now stable and fertile, and in due time will be quite well suited for resettlement. In fact, it would seem that providence has brought about a most ironic twist, as our data suggests that the planetary core had in fact been growing quite unstable, and that in lieu of radical intervention such as that brought about by the Genesis effect, Praxis might have suffered a cataclysmic geological event within a year’s time.”
General Chang pounded his fist on the table. Though the chancellor seemed humbled, Chang and his one good eye-the one not covered by a dark, crudely attached patch-still retained a glimmer of spirited defiance. “Ghay’cha’!!!” he growled. “How much longer must we subject ourselves to this infernal Federation propaganda?”
The president paused his address. “Forgive me, General,” he said, bowing his head with genuine sincerity. “It was not my intent to be patronizing.”
“Patronizing?” Chang laughed softly, and his speech became soft and measured, almost rehearsed. “What other purpose can our presence here possibly serve but to be patronized? Our time is over; our age of glory has passed, carried on the winds of time. Have we not heard the chimes at midnight? Let us finish it. Let us sit upon the ground, and tell sad stories of the death of kings.”
Ra-ghoratreii stepped out from behind the podium and slowly walked back to the conference table. “Perhaps it is better that we dispense with the formalities. Clearly we still have much work to do if we are to find common ground.” He took his seat, and folded his hands atop the table.
Chancellor Gorkon lifted his head and momentarily shrugged off his trancelike malaise. “I fear, Mr. President, that the common ground may be so elusive as to be unobtainable. We sit here this day only because the High Council will not abide the