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The president’s eyes widened with alarm at the suggestion. “Chancellor,” he assured him. “I cannot stress enough our unilateral opposition to any policy that seeks the annihilation of another race.”

“Is that so?” Gorkon replied cynically. “Where, then, would you draw the line if every Klingon who yet draws breath were willing to defend his honor to the death? When would you concede defeat while you still retain the power to wipe out billions in a single strike?” A simpering look crossed his sharp Klingon visage as he slowly shook his head. “Your challenge, sir, is not to compel us to sign whatever treaty you find acceptable. Your challenge is to convince billions of Klingon men and women to set aside their innate desires to seek honor in retribution, and to accept your vision of a brave new world.”

Thelin spoke up. “Chancellor, I know that I speak for most Andorians when I say that our volatile passions drove us headlong into this conflict, with no thoughts of a peaceful resolution. But I have seen firsthand how the rules of war have changed. I have seen what it means to possess the power, not only to exterminate our enemies, but also to destroy ourselves in the process. We have reached a threshold, beyond which only through peace can either of our civilizations survive.”

Chang stood up, his frustration bursting forth from every pore. “And what, pray tell, is so honorable about 'survival’? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all. You speak of peace; I ask, what use is peace when our generation will be remembered with dishonor for all eternity?”

Thelin kept his response calm and measured. “I would suggest, General, that future generations may judge you much less harshly than you anticipate,” he said. “A great man once taught me that one’s legacy is never measured by what one accomplishes in life, but rather by the hope one leaves behind when one is gone.”

Chang stared at him for several long seconds before sitting back down. “Empty platitudes,” he muttered. “Hypocritical moralizing from the greatest war criminal that the universe has ever known.”

The room fell silent. Seated next to the president, Sentek raised an eyebrow.

War criminal? Thelin pondered. The words struck like a blade through his chest. Was this the reputation he had garnered for his actions during the conflict? Was that to be his legacy in the annals of the Klingon Empire?

“Now just a minute,” Admiral West said firmly, extending a scolding finger in the direction of the visiting entourage. “You’re talking to a decorated Starfleet admiral. His actions have always been guided by the rules of war.”

“Rules of war?” Brigadier Kerla interjected with a nonplussed inflection. “What an interesting choice of words. Here is what we know from our own intelligence reports: that Thelin of Andoria was directly responsible for the murder of at least two senior officers aboard the Katai, that he directed and carried out a series of civilian massacres against the Archanis colonies, and that he led the mission to deploy the Federation’s new weapon, exterminating the population of Praxis as if they were bothersome insects.” He turned toward the president. “What, precisely then, is disallowed under your 'rules of war’?”

“This is ridiculous,” West said, leaning back in his chair. He gestured broadly with his right hand. “Shall we run down the litany of acts committed by the Klingon overseers against the population of Earth these last five years?”

“Stop it!” Azetbur shouted. All the delegates at the table turned toward the chancellor’s daughter-her eyes narrowed, her teeth grinding with aggravation. “Have you all forgotten why we are here?” she asked softly. “What’s done is done. The past is gone. We are not fit to judge our own prior actions. That right is left to Kahless, or whatever deity you choose to serve. What is at stake here today is the future of both our races. What we must decide is whether or not our children will be given a chance to grow up, and find their honor in their own way.”

Thelin looked down. How would