The long fishing rod flexed tightly as its wielder whipped it back and forth, testing, and whistled every time it went by the man's head. Finally, he snapped it forward with all his might and watched as the weight and hook shot away, the reel buzzing furiously as the monofilament line played out. Satisfied with another expert cast, Commodore Rick Hunter slipped the base of the pole into a pair of metal rings screwed into the railing of the old wooden pier and let a smile break across his face. It was a beautiful day on the old Santa Monica pier. The sea glistened with the morning sun -- the yellow sun of Earth, not the yellow-orange Serenity primary -- sparkling off the tops of the breakers crashing on the beach. Overhead, seagulls circled lazily on updrafts and called down to him in their raucous voices, audaciously challenging him to toss them some scraps. One of them swooped lower and passed by the pier right in front of him, banked, returned and landed on the railing not three feet from where his right hand rested.
The gawky bird cocked its head and looked at Hunter, then spoke in a perfectly sweet female voice using a beak that articulated as well as human lips. "Sorry to bother you, Commodore," it said, "but Admiral Pike is on the comm for you." The seagull sounded exactly like Hunter's pretty blonde yeoman, Jamie Piper.
Hunter frowned in irritation. "Figures. Just when I'm finally starting to relax."
"It could be good news, sir," suggested the seagull, fluttering its wings hopefully.
But Hunter knew better. He shook his head and said, "Admirals never call with good news," he intoned sagaciously. "Very well. Thank you, Jamie."
The seagull smiled sweetly and flapped away in a flurry of feathers.
Turning his back on the pristine ocean, Hunter looked skyward and said, "End simulation."
Obediently, the ocean, beach, wooden pier, blue sky, and squawking, talking seagulls dissolved, melting into the ordinary carpet, walls and ceiling of his office in the heart of the Starfleet Quarter in Serenity City. The office holo-emitters silently slipped back into their concealed wall sockets, and Hunter found himself inescapably back at work. He quickly slipped around the large oaken desk and seated himself in front of the desktop holotank. Sensing his readiness, the machine hummed to life, and a miniature version of Admiral Jeffrey Pike, Chief of Starfleet Operations, suddenly stood in the center of his desk.
"Hello, Rick," said the Admiral upon seeing Hunter's face. "It's good to see you again. How are things on Serenity? Getting in as much fishing as you like?"
Hunter briefly wondered if Piper had let slip to the Admiral that he was goofing off with his office's holo-system again instead of working, but dismissed the notion almost before it was fully formed. No one was more loyal that Jamie Piper, or as discreet. The Admiral's comment was just a coincidence, and besides, Hunter's weakness for the sport of fishing was notorious among the Admiralty.
"There's no such thing as 'enough fishing', Admiral," replied Hunter jovially. "But I doubt you called all this way just to make sure I was getting enough R&R..."
"Right to the point as always, eh, Rick?" Pike expression grew more serious. "All right then. I have good news and bad news. You choose the order."
"Good news first, of course."
The two-foot-tall holo-Pike smiled. "Ever the optimist. All right, in that case, the good news is that the Council has finally approved the G'kra government's request to join the United Federation of Planets as a full member. The treaty is to be signed in two weeks by the President of the Federation Council and the High Commissar of the G'kra Republic."
"That's great news, Admiral!" said Hunter. "The G'kra have been through hell at the hands of the Mullurans. In the month and a half since the end of the war, we've seen an endless stream of supply ships and humanitarian aid heading through here on its way to worlds within the G'kra Republic. With full Federation membership, I'm sure the influx of relief will only increase."
"Plus it will add a tremendous degree of stability to the trans-Briar Patch sectors," added Pike.
"Something those of us out here on the frontier can certainly appreciate," agreed Hunter. "So what's the bad news?"
Pike hesitated slightly, debating on how to best break the news to Hunter. In the end, he decided just to say it outright; nothing else was likely to go over well with a man like the Commodore. "At the insistence of the G'kra, the treaty will be signed on Serenity."
Hunter was thunderstruck. "Here?!? Why?"
Mini-Pike shrugged. "Apparently, Captain Mallory and the late General Tarik of Starbase 901 made quite an impression on the G'kra populace. The G'kra Supreme Commissariat will feel safest on Serenity knowing the heroes of the 'War of Liberation', as they're calling it, are in orbit above their heads shielding them from all evil.
"But, Sir," began Hunter a bit desperately, even to his own ears, "We don't have any high-end diplomats stationed here, and I am certainly no diplo--"
"Relax, Rick. No one's asking you to solve any monumental diplomatic problems. All you have to do is play host to a bunch of bureaucrats for a few days. Nothing could be simpler."
"If you say so, Admiral," said Hunter, not the least bit reassured, but deciding it was pointless to argue with Pike.
"Good," replied Admiral Pike, satisfied that Commodore Hunter had accepted his role in the matter. "You can expect the first delegates from our side to begin showing up in about ten days. It's a long way from Earth, after all, and any trip through the Briar Patch takes an extra three days on top of that."
Hunter knew all that of course, and Pike knew that he knew it. He's just talking now, thought Hunter, trying to cover over the guilt he's feeling about what he's dumped on me. I just wish I knew what it was, beyond the obvious... "Will there be anything else, Admiral?" he asked, careful to keep his true feelings masked.
Pike resumed his normal casual demeanor. "No, Rick, that's about it. Good luck."
"Thanks, Jeff."
"Starfleet out."
The holographic image of Jeffrey Pike flickered and winked out, and the emitter withdrew seamlessly back into the desktop. Rick Hunter leaned back in his chair and pondered what he'd just been told.
The admission of the G'kra into the Federation was a great stride forward for the peace and security of the region, but there were those who wouldn't like these developments one bit, and they were the once to look out for during the treaty signing. Renegade Mulluran raiders, Nausicaan pirates, the Son'a. Even some of Vince Kelly's terrorists who were still on the loose were a potential threat. The more he thought about it, the more Hunter came to realize the scope of the responsibility that had been laid on him. No wonder Pike was feeling guilty! he thought. Well, no use whining about the hand that had been dealt him. Better to do something about it. He thumbed the intercom toggle to the outer office.
"Jamie."
"Yes, Commodore?"
"Set up a communication to all Starfleet units on the planet. Tell them to prepare for the arrival of major G'kra and Federation delegates. I don't want anything to go wrong."
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