Tabor stepped forward and performed a complex series of movements with his hands before bowing almost imperceptibly, his formal robes shimmering slightly as the light caught their metallic threadwork patterns. “I apologize that I cannot greet you with the grace of your people,” said Tabor, “but my joints have never been as limber as yours, Madam Senator.”

Senator Curince evinced a sharp‑toothed grin, obviously impressed. “Your greeting is appreciated nonetheless, Ambassador.” Her gaze took him in for a moment more, then she turned her head slightly toward Picard, ignoring his other officers completely. “Were your ship’s instruments able to find any trace of the missing diplomatic shuttle?”

“No, Madam Senator,” Picard said. “I’m afraid the atmospheric turbulence of your world limits the full range of our sensors.”

Curince raised an eyebrow, and said, “Our planet is a harsh and unforgiving one. You are among the first members of any . . . weakerspecies to ever visit its surface.”

Picard offered a wan smile, unsure whether to feel insulted or not. His eyes shifted over to Tabor, who was smiling calmly.

A Chiarosan assistant approached and handed Curince a large electronic tablet, mounted on which were a display screen and a number of blinking buttons. She looked at it briefly, then held it out to Picard. “This device contains all the data we have on your missing shuttle, and on the apparent use of Starfleet weaponry against our defense troops. Our comm tellers transmitted the files to you previously, but given the effect that recent storms have had on our communications relay, it was decided that an uncorrupted transmission recording might aid you in your search.” As Picard prepared to take the device, she added, “If you need one of our people to help you interpret the use of the recorder, we can provide a technician.”

Picard gave another polite smile. This woman is really taxing my patience.“Thank you, Senator. We have excellent technicians on our ship. As generous as your offer is, I’m sure we will be able to decode the files ourselves.” He turned and handed the machine to Data, almost imperceptibly rolling his eyes. Only his crew saw the gesture.

Curince spoke again. “I also apologize that we are not meeting in the capitol building. The rebels refused to negotiate in a place that was completely under the rightful government’s control. We will, instead, be meeting in a private arena, whose location is being decided upon as we speak.”

“Will both First Protector Ruardh and Grand General Falhain be present at these negotiations, as planned?” asked Tabor.

“Yes. As will the Romulan diplomatic delegation. Their own ship arrived a few hours ago.”

“Ah,” said Tabor, bobbing his head agreeably. “I trust that they have sent their best diplomats?”

“The leader of their group is a woman named T’Alik. I do not bother to remember those of her subordinates.”

“T’Alik can be very persuasive,” Tabor said soberly.

“I think she will not persuade our First Protector much,” Curince said. “The Romulan presence is tolerated only because they have not struck against us. They claim neutrality, but Falhain’s minions–the so‑called ‘Army of Light’–have allied themselves politically with the Romulans. We feel that taints the Star Empire, showing them as the enemy of the duly proper government of our world.”

One of the Chiarosan escorts let out a discreet clicking sound, holding up a smaller version of the padd‑like device Curince had given Picard. The senator looked at it briefly, then back to the landing party. “The location has been announced. Security will be minimal, so it is our fervent hope that Falhain’s people will act honorably in this matter.” She paused for a moment, before looking pointedly at Tabor and Picard. “I am hopeful that the presence of an outside arbiter at this meeting–and that of the Federation–will allow for a sense of security, and begin a closure of this difficult rift among our people.”

Tabor smiled warmly. “Madam Senator, I believe I can promise you that the dИtente that we are about to inaugurate today will change the future of Chiaros IV–for the better . . . and forever.”

Picard stared at Tabor for a moment. He hadn’t liked the ambassador much, but he had to admit that the man had both charm and a persuasive demeanor. Perhaps he couldhelp to bring an end to the Chiarosan political struggle.

As they stepped forward, Tabor leaned in toward Picard and whispered. “Senator Curince is telling the truth about the Archimedes.At least as far as she knows.” Picard did not need to question how the Ullian ambassador was aware of what Curince knew or did not know. He also knew that Ullian telepathy tended to be more intrusive than one of Troi’s empathic scans.

Picard wondered: If the man would enter the senator’s mind with so little compunction, then what else might he be capable of?

Curince didn’t explain what their meeting place had once been used for, and neither Picard nor Tabor asked. The circular arena had many columns and benches in the main part, with shadowed recesses and rows of stadium seating rising up on every side. Although it seemed almost like a sporting or gladiatorial arena, Picard was under the impression that it might actually have been used for lectures or debates of some sort. Given the visible dust, it had not been used in quite some time.

Standing in the well‑lit center of the arena was First Protector Ruardh and her bodyguards, while the perimeter of the room was ringed with a dozen or more soldiers. A stately matron, Ruardh was wearing an auburn dress that complimented the long plaited braid of brownblond hair that curled down her shoulders. The dress was split in the center, wrapping around each leg, allowing for more ease of movement.

Senator Curince introduced Tabor to Ruardh, and the ambassador performed the elaborate hand greeting again. Picard stepped forward as his own name was called, bowing slightly to the Chiarosan leader. “I’m sorry that I cannot greet you in the manner of your people, First Protector,” he said, echoing Tabor’s earlier comment. He also knew better than to introduce his “subordinates” this time.

“No slight is taken, Captain. And your very presence here suggests to me that you will be much more . . . successful than the previous delegation the Federation sent.”

“Captain Picard is often successful, First Protector,” said a strong voice. A robed Romulan woman stepped toward the group from a side entrance, three other Romulan functionaries at her sides. “He commands Starfleet’s finest warcraft, the vaunted U.S.S. Enterprise.He brings you a honey‑tongued diplomat in a vessel that could level your city if he commanded it. Small wonder you would choose to ally yourself with the Federation; but can you truly trust a people who are so weak that they lose ships and weapons one day, then arrive in a battleship the next?”

“I know that I cannot trust the Romulans, Ambassador T’Alik,” Ruardh said, her head swiveling to the side. “You have chosen to ally yourself with those who oppose me.”

“We have not chosen either side, Protector. It is not ourweaponry that your opposition has used against you,” T’Alik said, her haughty gaze moving toward Picard and his crew. “We have offered the rulers of Chiaros IV the protection of the Romulan Star Empire. It is youwho have chosen to side with the Federation. You might, upon further consideration, choose to ally yourself with us. That is ourhope.”

Picard looked to Tabor to see if the man was going to respond, but Tabor’s gaze told him to let the matter alone. As if cued by T’Alik’s speech, the rebel Chiarosans melted out of the shadows in the arena, their triple‑jointed forms moving lithely and almost soundlessly. Ruardh and her men did not seem surprised–and the Romulans’ preternatural calm implied that they expected the intrusion–but the Starfleet officers didn’t disguise their own jumpiness quite as well. With the rebels now ringing the outer perimeter of the arena, Picard felt like prey–even more so, given that both the rebels and the bodyguards were all heavily armed.