If only I had the courage to remove this mask, here and now,Lekev thought, wondering whether the humans would find his true face more familiar and less forbidding than the mask that duty and Coridanite tradition dictated that he never remove in the presence of non‑Coridanites. But he knew that such a blasphemous act of defiance would not only earn him dismissal and imprisonment on his homeworld–if not outright execution–it would also certainly fail to persuade his government’s headstrong chancellor to alter her decision to abandon the new interstellar alliance. Still, doffing the ritual mask that doubtless made Lekev appear so very alien in the eyes of once‑valued diplomatic partners might serve to remind at least somein Coridan Prime’s leadership hierarchy that these Terrans, Vulcans, Tellarites, and Andorians were far more like the Coridanite people than they were different.

Lekev’s eyes caught a hint of motion at the edge of the chamber, and he turned his gaze toward it. On the stairs that connected the edge of the council chamber to the gallery level above it, a group of blue‑uniformed figures was making a silent entrance, coming to a quiet halt at the railing that overlooked the tense proceedings. No one else in the room appeared to have noticed their arrival.

The hard, chiseled features and determined look of the foremost of the blue‑clad humans drew Lekev’s attention most keenly. Nowthere’s a man who probably has sufficient courage to remove whatever masks might stand in his way,he thought, recalling the words of inspiration that Captain Jonathan Archer had spoken here only a few Earth weeks ago–words that had kept this nascent, fragile Coalition of Planets from completely fracturing during the immediate aftermath of the Terra Prime crisis.

But circumstances had changed greatly since then, particularly for those who still clung to life on the infernal ruin that Coridan Prime had become. And Lekev knew he had no choice other than to face that grim reality squarely.

Turning his gaze back upon sh’Rothress, Lekev took a deep breath, gathered his scattered thoughts, and finally addressed the Andorian junior ambassador’s well‑taken question. “Coridan cannot presently afford to concern itself with external matters, Ambassador. More than half a billion Coridanites died as a direct result of the attack, and more than that have perished as a consequence of the hugely destructive dilithium fires that resulted from the collision–which our best energy and environmental experts estimate to have consumed at least half of our planetary dilithium reserves. Our science minister believes that Coridan Prime’s ecosystems will take at least a century to begin to recover, should a recovery actually prove to be possible.”

“You have just enumerated several excellent reasons for allowing the Coalition to stand with you at this time,” said T’Pau of Vulcan. She exuded concern, but also a steadfast, rock‑solid calm that Lekev could only envy.

Lekev shook his head. “Chancellor Kalev does not see matters that way, nor do the partisans in her government who comprise a majority within the Ruling Assembly.”

“But surely the people of your world will see the wisdom of accepting outside help during this crisis,” said Prime Minister Samuels of Earth. “Your chancellor can only put her leadership in jeopardy by failing to recognize that.”

For the sake of everyone who yet remained alive on his homeworld, Lekev could only hope that the Terran was right. But he knew all too well that the truth was far more complex than Samuels knew, perhaps even defying Lekev’s own understanding.

“That is certainly a possibility, Mister Prime Minister,” Lekev said, making no attempt to conceal the sadness underlying his words. “Though it is probably a good deal less likely than you believe. We are a proud people, Minister. Most of us would probably not be sanguine about accepting interstellar charity. In the eyes of many, such assistance would be indistinguishable from a military occupation–and if Coridanites feel that their world has been taken by outworlders, they will behave accordingly, driving out the perceived invaders by whatever means they deem necessary. I am certain that none of the remaining Coalition worlds would relish that prospect in the least.”

Lekev could only hope that such a scenario might motivate Coridan Prime’s many squabbling political factions to set aside their differences, at least temporarily. But he also felt certain that any pause in the steadily escalating civil war back home would endure only so long as the perception of an outside threat persisted, and not a day longer.

Lapsing into silence, Lekev once again raked his gaze across the faces of each of his diplomatic colleagues, eager to see and hear their reactions, while at the same time dreading them. After a seeming eternity of deceptive stillness, most of the diplomats present–with the exception of the characteristically stoic Vulcans–began airing those reactions, loudly and simultaneously. Nathan Samuels, the nominal chairman of today’s proceedings, banged his gavel impotently and all but inaudibly as the room descended further into high‑decibel rhetorical chaos.

His grim duty finally discharged, Lekev bowed respectfully toward the chairman’s podium, then turned and exited the chamber. Outraged shouts and cries for order echoed and competed behind him.

Archer paused beside the spiral railing, and his senior officers stood quietly behind him on the stairs overlooking the small amphitheater where the delegates to the prospective Coalition of Planets were debating nothing less than the future political alignments of five solar systems.

The discussion–if the tumultuous gabble of indistinguishable shouts and cries that filled the chamber really qualified as such–was going every bit as badly as Archer had feared. We can’t afford to lose Coridan,he thought glumly. Especially not while the Romulans are so hell‑bent on smashing the Coalition.A sense of utter helplessness descended upon him as he watched Ambassador Lekev turn and exit the room through one of the lower‑level doors.

“It appears you’ve arrived in the proverbial nick of time once again, Captain,” said Doctor Phlox, who was standing slightly behind Archer. He was leaning toward the captain’s ear, almost shouting to be heard over the raised voices of the diplomats.

Archer bristled reflexively at the Denobulan’s remark. “Phlox, are you expecting me to just leap in there and make everything right?”

Phlox appeared unfazed by Archer’s surly tone. “You havedone it before, Captain.”

“I’m an explorer, Phlox, and sometimes a soldier. But I’m no diplomat.” He couldn’t help but wonder, however, whether he could do a worse job than the alleged diplomats who were trying to shout each other down while the meeting’s chairman looked on impotently.

“Frankly, I think Admiral Gardner expects you to contribute something substantive to this meeting,” Phlox said, apparently undeterred.

Archer scowled. “How do you mean? He ordered me to be present for the Coalition Compact signing. That’s not until Wednesday.”

“Well, of course he didn’t order you to be here today,Captain,” Phlox said, his avuncular smile widening until it took on vaguely disconcerting proportions. “He knew it wasn’t necessary. He’d have had to lock you up to keep you away.”

Archer couldn’t help but wonder if Phlox was on to something there; after all, the moment Enterprisearrived in Earth orbit, he’d expected Gardner to call him on the carpet because of his unauthorized attempt to reach Coridan Prime ahead of the disaster that had since struck there.

Or maybe Gardner hasn’t gone after me because he regrets orderingEnterprise to head for Earth instead of Coridan.Archer knew that he would always wonder if he might somehow have intercepted the vessel responsible for the assault against Coridan, if only he’d had a little more time. It was easy to imagine that the admiral, whose sphere of responsibility was much larger than Archer’s, was now second‑guessing himself in the very same manner.