Margeret Bonanno - Probe

grimly. "No matter how much I favor peace, I cannot help but wonder if those who would do this are not overreaching themselves." He sighed. "But if they do not try, they will not succeed. But neither will they fail, and a failure will bring them down even more surely and more quickly than the actions of their enemies."

Feric nodded, but said nothing.

Tempted as he was, Hiran did not ask his first officer what he made of the proposed peace conference.

"Opinions, gentlemen?" Cartwright asked.

"Admiral, if I may. ." Kirk took the floor. "It seems to me that change on such a vast scale as we've heard described could hardly have been orchestrated solely to impress us."

"We've given you only the bare bones of it," the President said. "Further examples are virtually endless."

"Examples are endless only when one lacks either the resources or the will to enumerate them," Spock interjected quietly. "I submit, gentlemen, that whether this perestroika is genuine or not is of greater importance to the Romulans themselves than to the Federation. Our most immediate concern, whether the reform is real or counterfeit, is to obtain a reliable answer to the question of who now rules the Empire, and how firm is his hand. It is only logical to assume that the Praetor's death has opened the way for a massive and perhaps prolonged power struggle."

"We have no hard data on that as yet," the President answered. "As always, they present a united front to everyone beyond their borders. There is a so-named Committee that has assumed the Praetor's duties, though we don't know who they are."

"Utilization of an Interim Committee is consistent with past law and precedent," Spock supplied.

"A Committee, gentlemen," the President reiterated. "Names and numbers unknown. And they are our only official contact within the Empire with regard not only to the proposed peace conference but to the accompanying scientific and cultural exchange as well."

McCoy's forehead pursed. "Damned unsociable, if you ask me. Not even a face to respond to."

Cartwright, obviously in no mood for McCoy's facade of public grumpiness, scowled. "Whatever skepticism we may reserve in our private thoughts, gentlemen," he said stiffly, "we are forced to treat this offering as genuine and respond in kind. The stakes-the chances of developing a meaningful peace between our cultures — are simply too high to do otherwise."

"Agreed," the President said quickly, wryly noting Kirk's almost undetectable smile and the darted glance he exchanged with the doctor. "That is precisely what we are here for, gentlemen-to insure that we make the most of those chances."

"Without giving away the store in the process," McCoy added, garnering another scowl from Cartwright.

"Without giving away the store in the process," the President repeated, smiling faintly himself while Cartwright only nodded, his scowl still in place. "Shall we proceed? There are a number of aspects to the agenda the Romulans propose, some of which I'm sure at least some of you will consider peculiar. For one, they appear determined that this will be seen as a full-blown cultural and scientific exchange mission, not just a first-step peace initiative. On the cultural front, they will be

represented by a full orchestra, and we are expected to provide the same. Performances, I understand, will alternate between the Enterprise and whatever ship the Romulans send."

"An excuse to get a whole shipload of Romulans on board a Federation starship," McCoy opined.

"Precautions will be taken, Doctor, you can rest assured," Cartwright snapped. "As will Romulan precautions doubtless be taken while their ship is overrun with Federation personnel."

"You mentioned other `peculiar' aspects, Mr. President," Kirk prompted, smothering another remark from McCoy.

The President nodded. "One you may find more offensive than peculiar, I'm afraid. One of their conditions regards the ambassador who will represent us at the conference."

All Enterprise eyebrows arched at that announcement. "You certainly don't mean," Kirk said disbelievingly, "that they're trying to tell us who they want our ambassador to be!"

The President shook his head. "Only who they suggest we not send."

"That should make it easy enough, then," McCoy snorted. "Whoever they don't want is our obvious choice, I'd say."

"Are you quite positive, Doctor?" Spock asked. "I believe there is a human folk tale involving a rabbit and a form of plant growth known as a briar patch-"

"Whether the Romulans have similar folk tales, I don't know," the President broke in, "but it does not apply to this situation. Their demand is not diplomatic posturing. They insist-and we have no reason to disbe-

lieve them at this point-they will attend no conference at which this particular ambassador represents the Federation."

"Have they given a reason?" Kirk asked.

"They have-and I must admit, there is a certain diplomatic logic involved. If talks involving an ambassador of his high level and brilliant reputation were to break down, it would be catastrophic, whereas if a lesser negotiator was involved. ."

"`Don't start at the top'," Kirk commented. "If it fails at that level, there's nowhere else to go."

The President nodded. "Precisely. It was a common practice on Earth, where heads of state rarely met each other until lesser lights on both sides had paved the way, worked out all the details."

"And who is this top-level persona non grata?" Kirk asked.

"Someone I'm sure you all know." The President's eyes flicked toward Spock. "Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan."

McCoy blinked, then snorted. "So I was right. They really don't want him, and it's easy enough to see why. If anyone could see through whatever schemes they're going to try to pull, it's Sarek."

Kirk had to agree on that point. "Mr. President, the very fact that they refuse to deal with Sarek specifically tells us something."

"That they're not on the level!" McCoy snapped.

"Very possibly. However, as has already been noted, other possibilities do exist. It may be, for example, that while they are ready to deal with the Federation, they are simply not yet ready to deal with their own cousins, the Vulcans. In any event, as has also been noted before, we

have to take the chance. This merely means that we will have to be even more on our guard, if that's possible."

"So who's the acceptable second-stringer?" Kirk asked.

"Someone else I believe you also know," the President said, a faint smile flickering at his eyes, "one of Sarek's proteges. He should be here any minute. Should have been here several minutes ago, in fact. His name is Riley."

In his forties now, sporting a ruffian's salt-and-pepper beard, Commander Kevin Thomas Riley, Starfleet Diplomatic Corps, could still be as rakish, as brimming with Irish wit and charm, as his younger self had ever been. He could, that is, under normal circumstances. These, however, were far fi-om what he would consider normal circumstances, and he had never felt less witty or charming. And to make matters worse, he was going to be late-late for a briefing conducted personally by the President of the Federation and if that were not enough, attended by the senior officers of the Enterprise. Of all the times to have been caught in a traffic jam, just as he was rushing to the Cairo terminal in hopes of getting there in time to make use of the transporter slot he had managed to scare up when the summons had come. And now this `lift to the briefing room floor-it was surely the slowest in the Federation! It did not bode well for his new assignment.

Not that he had not developed major misgivings even before the omens had started. Kevin Riley, back on the Enterprise-the prospect was not a prescription to soothe his nerves, nor in all likelihood, those of Captain Kirk.