Lieutenat al-Kwaritzmi’s personal log, supplemental: we are taking a nice long break for lunch, and then are going back to repairing the stasis chamber. I personally hope not to be disturbed again by Frulenk, who is an aggressively arrogant character devoid of any amusing quality, but the presumptive Prince, Kojik, turned out to be rather nice, although sad.

Coming back after lunch in the Chamber Room, who should the Starfleet team meet but Kojik, the presumptive Prince of House Kaddir, sitting on the floor, hiding behind an engineering crate.

The Tellarite had changed clothes, donning now some sort of tunic, but also a fake hairpiece and actual glasses.

He stared up at Iskander and Sornia upon being discovered.

“Ah” he said. “Eh.”

Sornia couldn’t really interpret what she was seeing. “Are you… hiding, Kojik?”

He grimaced and shook his head. “No, no, that would be undignified! I would never!”

Iskander looked at him. He wasn’t a good liar. “My colleague asks if you are hiding because, if you are, then we’re not going to reveal your position to anyone who looks for you.”

Kojik considered the idea. “I am hiding. Can you conceal me?”

Iskander smiled. “Not if this place has internal sensors. But we’re not going to say a word.”

Nurse Anmol Ghoshal also arrived and looked down at the sitting Tellarite. “Kojik? Are you alright?”

Kojik sighed. “Why did they have to give me these clothes? Why do I look like this? I hate this sort of tunic! I look like my father! I hate that!”

The three Starfleet officers looked at each other, embarrassed.

Kojik got a new idea. “Can you bring me out of here? Out of the palace? Into the world?”

Nurse Ghoshal shook his head. “The so-called Countess has forbidden us, hasn’t she?”

Kojik soured. “Right.”

Iskander intervened. “She did, but she’s not out boss. We are engineering support with a specific task. Outside of that task, we are under no obligation to obey any of her whims.”

Kojik brightened. “So you could?”

The doors slammed open.

“Noble uncle!” called a voice. “We know you are in here! Come here immediately!”

The sitting Tellarite cursed and didn’t move, but the three Starfleet officer’s positions gave him away. The so-called Countess Frulenk, hot and bothered, wearing a monumental set of black and brown and green robes, made her way like a not-particularly-tall tornado, and stared down at the crouching figure she was trying to make King of Rellite.

Kojik tried to smile, looking guilty. “Hi, auntie.”

She reddened. “I’m not your aunt, noble uncle, and… what are you doing here? And why are you three Starfleets still bothering my noble uncle? I start to think –“

“They aren’t bothering me” exclaimed Kojik. “Will you please just let the Vulcans alone.”

She wasn’t mollified, but obviously decided to fry a larger fish. “Well, if you say so. Now, noble uncle, come with me. The public has started entering.”

Public, repeated mentally Iskander.

“I’m not –” tried to protest Kojik.

“No no no. Listen, noble uncle, this is the moment to show how clever you are, how domineering you are.”

He seemed to almost choke on those words. “What!”

“Oh, please do stop with this pathetic charade” said the so-called Countess. “We have all the reports of your private teachers, each attesting that you are a genius and that this façade of being a bumbling buffoon is merely a way to catch your adversaries unprepared. It is very clever, but now you can flex your mental muscles in the debate that we have prepared for you.”

Oh, that made more sense to Iskander. There was a public because there was a debate: that was what Kojik had fled from.

He thought again that Kojik was wearing a hairpiece. “Ah, Madam Frulenk” he said. “I can’t avoid seeing that Kojik is disguised — the hair, the quaint glasses, the tunic. Is he perchance… dressed as his father?”

The so-called Countess was so taken aback that she didn’t even snide for once. “Well!” she said. “You surprise me, human. You must have seen some of my noble ancestor’s paintings around the palace.”

That wasn’t how Iskander had gotten to the conclusion, but felt like speculating further. “So… you don’t want people to recognize Kojik, right? The party has not yet announce his return!”

“What is it to you?” She seemed to get over her surprise. “As entertaining it is talking to you, and it isn’t, human, my noble uncle and I need to be somewhere. Come, noble uncle.”

Kojik was staring at his tunic, still, and finally seemed to realize what had been said a couple of moments earlier. “I AM DRESSED LIKE FATHER?”

“Well, yes –“

“NO!” screamed Kojik, inconsolable, trying to remove the hairpiece that had been forced on him. It turned out to be really secure on his head and not easy to be removed. “NO NOT THIS OH NO!”

The three Starfleet officers and the presumably noble Tellarite watched in disbelief as the presumptive future King of Rellite starting whining because he couldn’t remove his hairpiece.

____________________________________

The debate started almost twenty minutes late. They had had to change Kojik’s disguise — he had proven unable to stand looking like his father, but had accepted to be disguised like his ancestor Nojark, the last King of his House, who several centuries ago had been exiled from Tellar.

Iskander and Ghoshal had been asked to come with them. The so-called Countess had begrudgingly admitted that their presence seemed to calm the so-called Prince.

“It must be the presence of simpletons” had said the so-called Countess.

“Debatable” had answered Iskander. “If that were so, your presence would be enough.”

The debate took place in a large ceremonial ballroom in the palace, filled to the brim with young Tellarites: both the public and the speakers had been recruited from the political science departments of the universities of Rellite, and Iskander suspected that all of these students had been brought here partly out of the curiosity of seeing the inside of the palace of a fallen royal dynasty, and in part because of the promise of a good apero.

Kojik, dressed in a cream-white rhumangar and donning a small hat and a fake beard, stood stage center. Cleverly, all of the other speakers had also been dressed up as political superstars of Rellite and Tellar, although Iskander couldn’t recognize any of them — he knew that Shallash was not amongst the chosen figures.

The so-called Countess Frulenk moderated.

“Following the Utopia Planitia attack and the synth ban, Rellite had to re-crew its starship docks” she was saying. “Was the underlying employment politics a success or not?”

A young Tellarite woman, dressed in the puffiest gown that Iskander had ever seen, requested the word. Frulenk stared for a moment at Kojik, but he made no move. The young Tellarite woman spoke.

“Of course not” she proclaimed. “Any previous policy is to be disapproved of. Specifically, the education sector did not adapt to the increased need for engineers. This led to starship construction deficiencies in 2391 and 2394.”

“You gormlessly fail to mention, respected Trunank” interjected another young Tellarite woman, this one dressed in a severe black-and-white topless suit, “that it was your party that was in charge of the education sector! You are to blame for the faults you find!”

The public grunted in approval.

“Unless your brain has fallen out of your brain, respected Yuranka, I have been dead for more than three-hundred years” remarked the Tellarite in the puffy gown, who played the role of Trunank, whomever that was. “But I do agree that my successor are unworthy of re-breathing my air.”

Some cheering from the public.

“Fantastic” interrupted them the so-called Countess Frulenk, “and now after Admiral Picard has cleared the role of synthetics in that role, there is speech of re-introducing synth workers in the Rellite docks. Can any of you come up with a ten-point concrete political proposal on how to do so without disrupting the new order?”

After a moment of reflection, many of the young speakers raised their hands.

Frulenk was staring at Kojik, and he — again — made no move. He looked distraught.

The debate went on quite brilliantly — the political students were well-prepared and were enjoying the role-playing aspect of this weird occasion, but Kojik never spoke. Iskander got the distinct feeling that Kojik had been prepped for the questions that Frulenk would ask, and she always looked at him expecting to give him the word.

After one hour of hearty debate of almost one hour — young woman who pretended to be President Yuranka had been the star — Frulenk decided to close the event by asking two questions to each speaker.

Finally she came to Kojik.

“King Nojark” she said. “You have until now decided to remain silent, knowing full well that the concerns raised until here were beneath your kingly worth. I would like you to, for a change, comment on something more fundamental. Could you please discuss on the virtues and faults of undirected democracy as it is implemented on Rellite?”

Iskander was really interested in what Kojik would say, but the silence was quite deafening.

“You must have thoughts about it” said Frulenk.

“No” said finally Kojik, dressed as King Nojark, speaking for the first time in the whole afternoon.

The public started howling.

“SILENCE” screamed Frulenk. She looked aggravated. “King Nojark, your second question. Can you please critique the work of the current Federation Councillor for Rellite?”

“No” answered Kojik.

The event ended shortly after — a resounding success for everyone except than Frulenk and her noble uncle.