Table Of ContentPraise for
Keith R.A. DeCandido
“If the Trek franchise has a future, it lies with people like Keith DeCandido—
writers who can balance continuity and innovation, capturing our imagination
with something new while remaining firmly rooted in the shared mythology
we’ve grown up with.”
—TV Zone
“DeCandido is a writer of some skill, breathing life into characters and a culture
when it would be all too easy to rely on the existing mythos created by the
television shows. He doesn’t just duplicate it; he gives it depth.”
—SFReader.com
“DeCandido captures the world and characters of the show perfectly, giving fans
much to enjoy here.”
—Booklist
“DeCandido writes these characters exactly as they appear on the screen.
DeCandido’s Archer IS Scott Bakula’s Archer. DeCandido’s Spock IS Leonard
Nimoy’s Spock, etc…. DeCandido is like the second coming of Peter David. He
knows the characters so well and expands them so perfectly that it will be a
shame if he never writes for on-screen Trek.”
—Cinescape
“Many fans wonder about the unfinished portions of the tapestry that is the Star
Trek universe. There are thousands of unanswered questions. Author and editor
Keith R.A. DeCandido obviously loves to play in that big sandbox. He is entirely
at home with both the setting and the characters. His writing exhibits an innate
curiosity about that universe and the creativity to recognize the stories just
waiting to be told within it.”
—TrekNation.com
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Copyright © 2005 by Paramount Pictures. All Rights Reserved.
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For George, John, Thomas, James, James, John, Andrew, Martin,
William, John, James, Zachary, Millard, Franklin, James, Abraham,
Andrew, Ulysses, Rutherford, James, Chester, Grover, Benjamin,
William, Theodore, William, Woodrow, Warren, Calvin, Herbert,
Franklin, Harry, Dwight, John, Lyndon, Richard, Gerald, Jimmy,
Ronald, George, Bill, and George, for almost two hundred and thirty
years of service.
Historian’s Note
This novel commences shortly after the events of the feature film Star
Trek Nemesis, as well as the novels A Time for War, a Time for Peace
by Keith R.A. DeCandido, Death in Winter by Michael Jan Friedman,
and Titan: Taking Wing by Michael A. Martin & Andy Mangels.
January 2380
“It sure is hell to be president.”
—Harry S Truman
Chapter One
ELE’ER SAT IMPATIENTLY on her stool in the learning room. Mother
was late, of course—she always was late for their learning sessions,
which meant they ended later, which meant that Ele’er was always
late for sky-singing. Ele’er hated being late for sky-singing because it
meant she couldn’t go through the warm-ups, and when she couldn’t
go through the warm-ups, she sang poorly, and the songleader gave
her that disapproving look. Ele’er would explain that Mother had been
late with her lesson and that it had been important, but the songleader
never cared.
Mother finally transported into the learning room in a shimmer of light. Ele’er
knew she’d used a transporter because she was running late.
“I apologize for my tardiness,” Mother said, pulling a padd out of a pocket in
her cloak and sitting on the larger stool that faced Ele’er’s. While they were both
seated, Mother remained on a higher plane by sitting on her taller stool,
reinforcing her position as both parent and teacher. Ele’er started to remind her
that she’d be late for sky-singing, but Mother didn’t give her the chance.
“Today’s lesson will involve the politics of the Federation.”
Ele’er felt the folds of her skin tighten. She hated when the lesson involved
politics.
“We are going to observe the Federation News Service, because they have a
segment called Illuminating the City of Light.”
“That’s a stupid name,” Ele’er muttered.
“What was that?” Mother asked tersely.
Sighing, Ele’er enunciated the words this time. “It’s a stupid name.”
“It is not at all a stupid name, Ele’er.” Mother folded her hands on her lap,
which meant she was going to start quizzing her daughter. “What is the seat of
the Federation government?”
Ele’er sighed. “Earth.”
“More specifically, please.”
“A city called London.”
“Wrong, Ele’er.” Mother made a note on her padd that Ele’er assumed was a
demerit. “It is in Paris, in a building known as the Palais de la Concorde.”
Though Ele’er was tempted to point out to Mother that she had no need to
know the differences among the many cities of a planet that (its role as the seat
of the Federation government notwithstanding) was light-years away from
Bre’el IV in terms of both distance and relevance, she knew that it would
probably just result in another demerit.
“What is the name of the native population of Earth?”
“Human.” That was an easy one.
“And what is the nickname that humans have for Paris?”
Ele’er felt her skin folds tighten again. “I don’t know.”
“The City of Light.”
“Do the other cities on Earth not have light?”
Mother made another note on her padd; Ele’er feared another demerit. “Of
course they do, don’t be absurd, Ele’er. Now then—”
This time, Ele’er saw where Mother was going with her questioning. “This
FNS segment discusses the goings-on in the Federation government in Paris?”
“That is correct.”
“So the presentation’s purpose is to provide insight into what happens in the
City of Light—which is why it has that name.”
At that, Mother put her fists to her chest, with wrists crossed—a gesture of
respect and gratitude. “Very good, Ele’er.” She made some more notes on her
padd. “Now, then, we will watch.”
Mother removed a control from her cloak and pressed a button on it. The
emitters located in the walls lit up, and five figures seated at a desk appeared in
the middle of the learning room. One of them was a Bre’ella like her—Ele’er
thought he looked familiar, but she couldn’t place his face, though his cloak’s
red color indicated a high office.
The images were frozen. Mother asked, “Can you identify the species and
sexes of the people sitting with Councillor Nitram?”
Councillor Nitram, of course, Ele’er chastised herself. She was grateful that
Mother’s phrasing of the question—assuming that Ele’er knew Bre’el’s
representative on the Federation Council—had saved her the embarrassment of
admitting that she hadn’t recognized him.
Ele’er peered at the images. Such identification quizzes usually were the
purview of biology lessons, not political ones, but it was characteristic of Mother
to throw in queries from other disciplines to keep Ele’er on her toes.
The one on the far right with the dark skin looked like she was a native of
Earth, so Ele’er pointed at her and said, “Human female.”
“Correct.” Mother made a note on her padd.
Next to the human was Nitram, and next to him was a female with spots
encircling her face just under her hair-line. Ele’er knew that there were two
species with that characteristic, but she couldn’t remember either of them.
Taking a wild guess, she said, “Betazoid female?”
“No. That is a Kriosian female, though I would have credited you if you had
said Trill, since you have never seen this segment and are not aware that its host
is from Krios. The next one?”
This was a person with blue skin and no hair. She remembered that Andorians
had blue skin. “Andorian chan.”
Mother’s lips pursed for the first time since she arrived, which meant her
