Chapter 53
It hadn't taken Asfad Qasmieh long to realize that being in the employ of Admiral Czymszczak
meant that he would be on-call every hour of every day - but even so, hearing the chirp of the communication console in the middle of the night was an uncommon event: when Czymszczak went to bed, it was rare – very rare – that he would need Asfad's attendance.
That knowledge granted the man some respite from the challenges he faced during his busy days: his sleep was, for the most part, restful – and deep.
It therefore took the young man more than a moment to waken from his dreamless sleep to the soft noise from the adjacent room – and a moment longer to realize what the sound was.
All trace of fatigue fled from his mind and body as he jumped from his bed reaching for his robe and pulling it on even as her ran to the communication console. He hesitated for a moment before tabbing the control, however; instead, he took one moment to push his hair into some semblance of neatness, wiped a hand over his face to try to brush away any traces of sleep
then settled into a chair before touching the control, preparing to face Czymszczak with the most professional image he could muster at this hour of the morning.
It took a moment for the image to form – longer than it should have for an intraship communication, he realized with sleep-borne dullness – then came into focus – and Asfad's mouth fell open.
For a moment only, though; he closed it hurriedly, then gave a slight nod of his head to the image on the screen.
"Ambassador," he began, only to have the other raise his hand, silencing him.
"I hope I am not disturbing you, Mr. Qasmieh," Easo, the provisional representative of the Breen to the Federation, said quietly.
"No, sir, not at all," Asfad replied quickly.
Easo smiled. "Good. Guessing time differentials between a planet and a ship in space has never been my forte – I usually leave that calculation to our delegation's logistics officer – but in this matter, I had thought it be better that our discussion be, as you would say, 'off the record'," he said. "I am glad my calculations were accurate: I would have disliked having wakened you during your rest cycle."
"Yes, sir," Asfad agreed automatically, the amended his remark. "I mean, no, sir. I mean..."
Easo raised his hand again, smiling, his mouth revealing far too many teeth that were far too sharp for Asfad's comfort. "No need, Mr. Qasmieh... or may I call you Asfad? It is Asfad, is it not?" he added.
"Umm... Asfad's fine," he sputtered.
"Thank you – Asfad," he said before continuing. "And you, of course, must call me Easo."
"Yes, sir... I mean, Easo," Asfad managed.
The Breen smiled. "Given the status of the burgeoning relationship between our peoples – and soon between us, in our professional positions – I was hopefully that we would be able to speak together in a more... intimate manner," he explained.
"Yes, of course... Ummm... our relationship?" Asfad managed.
Easo laughed softly. "Your discretion is admirable, Asfad. You do Admiral Czymszczak much credit – but you do not need to speak in couched terms with me. As you know, we have completed our review of Captain Riker's qualifications for the position..."
"I'm sorry? His qualifications? For what position?" Asfad gaped.
"As your ambassador to the Breen," Easo said, surprised. "My counterpart from the Federation. You were aware that we have been working to find a suitable candidate for the position," he added.
Riker? Riker was negotiating directly with the Breen? Understanding slammed over the man like a tidal wave.
So that was what he had been doing; that was why he had placed so many subspace messages to the Breen – and why he had worked to conceal their existence.
It was an end run, he realized. Riker had to have known that he would never be considered for the position on his own merits: he had the qualifications, of course – but he wasn't one of Czymszczak 's allies – and without that, his career was limited. But by going to the Breen directly, by getting them to advocate for him – by having them want him as the ambassador, there was nothing Czymszczak could do to prevent it – not when the negotiations for an alliance had been stalled for so many years.
Brilliant, Asfad thought; absolutely brilliant. Riker had maneuvered himself into a position which Czymszczak couldn't refuse to accept without damaging his own political position.
Could he? Asfad wondered, silently considering the situation.
There was a faint sound from the communicator, and Asfad looked up, suddenly realizing that Easo was looking at him expectantly. "My apologies, sir!" he said. "Yes, of course I was aware of the position..."
"And that we had not found anyone whose qualifications met our criteria?"
"Yes..."
"So when we learned that Captain Riker was interested in the position, we were delighted," Easo said. "Our people's reports regarding the encounter between the Enterprise and our vessel indicated that he comported himself extremely well, and his study of our culture and history during this interview period has demonstrated the dedication and diligence we require."
Asfad said nothing, processing the information – then nodded.
"So how can I help you... Easo?" he said smoothly.
The Breen gave a very human sigh. "It is the matter of the time frame. We understand that there are levels of bureaucracy which must approve this posting – but after four years of negotiation, we are anxious to move forward. The Breen council has asked me to see what I can do to facilitate the process.
"And that is why I thought of you, Asfad," he continued smoothly. "I am aware of Admiral Czymszczak's position within the Admiralty – and of the power he wields. If he were to give his approval to the matter, I know the other levels of administrative approval could be minimized. But reaching the Admiral directly is nearly as difficult – and time-consuming – as waiting for the bureaucratic approvals themselves. But you... you are his assistant. You have his... ear?" he tried tentatively. "That is the word, is it not?"
Asfad nodded.
"He trusts you; he relies on you. If you were to broach the matter with him, it might expedite the approval process," Easo said.
"It might," Asfad agreed absently, wondering if he should protest the inaccurate description of the relationship between the two men – then smiled. Perhaps he wasn't as valued as Easo thought – but he could change that.
"I can speak with him," he said. "I'll put it on his agenda – but to be honest," he added with feigned reluctance, "his schedule is quite full – and there are other, more pressing matters that he will want to consider first. I can't guarantee that he'd be able to address the issue..."
"Asfad... Asfad," Easo sighed. "Let us not play games. We are both men of experience – and we are both wise in the ways of politics. This matter is of the greatest importance to us – and we will do whatever is needed to expedite the matter. Whatever," he added with quiet emphasis, "is needed. We have... resources – ample resources... available. For the Admiral... and for you."
Asfad opened his mouth – then closed it, and nodded. "I will see if I can re-prioritize the Admiral's calendar," he replied.
"I... we... would appreciate that. Very much. And having the members of the Breen council as grateful friends is not something to be dismissed lightly."
Asfad inclined his head slightly, giving a knowing nod to the Breen.
Easo smiled. "Then we understand one another. We will speak again... soon," he concluded.
"We will... Easo," Asfad agreed.
The Breen reached for the control, and the image faded out, revealing the Federation's logo.
Asfad tabbed his control, waiting for his screen to fade to black – then sank back in the chair.
So that was why the admiral hadn't been able to entice – or threaten – Riker into allying with him! He was already building an alliance with the Breen – and once that alliance was in place, he would have enough political clout to protect himself and his family – and to further his own political plans!
And it would have worked, too... and it might yet do so, Asfad thought. Yes, Czymszczak could simply kill the request when it was brought before him – but, as Easo had said, it had been four years – and this was the first time that the Breen had indicated there was a candidate they found acceptable.
And that, Asfad thought, was something that the public wanted – and wanted desperately. Too many years of too many wars with too much political instability had left the public tired and afraid; they wanted peace. They wanted calm and reassurance. They did not, Asfad knew, want to learn that the Breen had finally agreed to an association with the Federation – contingent on their getting their ambassador of choice – only to find that Czymszczak had overturned the application and denied them what they ached for.
If that knowledge became public – and Asfad had no doubt that it would - it would damage Czymszczak's position and his aspirations – and any chance of being elected President of the Federation would be lost for years, if not forever.
But Riker's presence as an ambassador could imperil Czymszczak's political aspirations almost as certainly, he thought. Not immediately; it would take time – years, maybe a decade – but Riker had the one thing that Czymszczak didn't, and never would.
It was one thing to be a Starfleet admiral who became the president of the Federation; it was something else entirely to be a legitimate war hero, both in his own right and as Picard's first officer.
For all of the fall-out that had surrounded their actions in the field, the public had never lost sight of Picard and Riker as the two heroes they really were – and when if either of them ever ran for public office, that mystique would unquestionably help carry them into office.
And carry Czymszczak out.
Picard had recused himself from any chance of a political career, Asfad reminded himself; age and a growing dislike of the political games that were necessary had removed the man from contention – but Riker was younger – and given what he had just done, no stranger to the machinations required to succeed in politics. He could and would play the game – and he might well win, Asfad thought.
For a moment, he considered the possibilities. Riker was older than Czymszczak – but his history, his career – and now a married man with a family on the way – he might well be the better political choice to support.
But...
Czymszczak wasn't a fool. If he saw Riker as a potential rival, he would do whatever he had to do – whatever he wanted to do, Asfad added grimly – to make sure he didn't remain a rival.
And he would take down anyone and everyone who helped him.
But Czymszczak might well help anyone who acted to support him – especially if that support eliminated his challenger.
I was one thing to be Czymszczak's subordinate; it was something else entirely – something much better – to be his ally.
Asfad sat for a long time, thinking – then rose from his chair and headed for the bedroom. He needed to talk with Czymszczak – but not while he was dressed in his pyjamas.
If he was going to work with Czymszczak rather than for him , he was going to dress the part.
Asfad smiled.
