Star Trek The Next Generation - 13 - Doomsday World by Star Trek

Author:Star Trek
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780671741440
Publisher: Star Trek
Published: 1990-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

ESQUAR HUDAK preferred the ambience of Busiek’s to what he saw around him—the flawless new plastiform tables, the cheap modern art, the freshly fabricated walls and ceilings and floors. He would take the eccentric time-worn quality of the big place on the Strip over the sterile regularity of this one any day. What was this pub called, anyway? He couldn’t even remember its name.

However, it was the very anonymity of this place, its lack of popularity among the Federation-side merchants, that had qualified it as the perfect venue for this meeting. For while it wasn’t exactly a secret convocation, it wasn’t the type of thing they wanted to advertise either.

He would say this much on the pub’s behalf: management had gone out of its way to make the merchants feel at home. All of them had drinks before them. Of course, that was just good business, wasn’t it? The sooner the drinks were served, the sooner the merchants would be ready for seconds.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hudak noticed Stephaleh’s Sullurh aide sitting in the farthest corner of the room. How long had he been here? Inwardly the Pandrilite laughed. It was so like a Sullurh to remain as unobtrusive as possible, even when he was supposed to be the embassy presence at the meeting.

The Pandrilite cleared his throat and immediately drew the attention of those assembled. He was not surprised by the efficacy of that simple action. When one towered over one’s fellows, one commanded a certain amount of respect.

“You all know why we’re here,” he began, watching the reaction of each face in the gathering. Most of the merchants were humans, but a half-dozen other races were also represented. “The atmosphere that has developed in Kirlosia is hardly good for business, and boneheaded stunts like storming the embassy are only going to make matters worse.” He stopped for a moment while a perfunctory wave of applause rose and fell. “Our only chance to salvage our livelihood—our future—is to stand behind Ambassador Stephaleh, as this group has done in the past.”

“The past,” said a wiry little Tetracite named Keeglo, “is a little different from the present, don’t you think? Make no mistake, I don’t put any faith in these crahglat droppings about the Federation wanting to start a war, but someone is doing something, and I haven’t seen Stephaleh make the first move to stop it. At least, I haven’t seen any results.”

Hudak had taken the occasion of the Tetracite’s speech to chug down some of his drink. It was an old Pandrilite ploy—diminish the opposition’s argument by appearing to do something else while the argument was presented.

Actually he couldn’t help noting that the drink wasn’t half bad. It went down with a certain amount of fire. Were the proprietors getting it from somewhere other than the usual sources?

“With all due respect,” said the Pandrilite, “we cannot gauge the effectiveness of the ambassador’s efforts at this point.” He indicated the Sullurh with a thrust of his chin.

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