The senior moderator sat quietly as he waited for his assistant to serve his visitor a cup of tea and a plate with crackers and biscuits.  When he and CAPT Pullman of Glendale met aboard the ship, it was impossible to observe the full formalities expected for meetings–more often than not, they met seated at a bench in a common mess area in one of the shuttle bays.  It was far more civilized in his temporary office, where the bare minimum of civilized communication could be conducted.

With the social pleasantries properly attended to, the senior moderator started the meeting.  “What is this disturbing new development that needs my attention, Pullman?”

Pullman had grown accustomed to the diplomat’s brusque manners and condescending tone, and the rise of irritation no longer appeared when Flores addressed him.  Plus, the contents of Glendale‘s latest orders disturbed him much more than any minor personality irritation.  He produced his PADD.  “Glendale received additional orders.  If I may share them with you?”

Flores nodded his assent and the ship’s latest orders were transferred to his PADD.  He quickly read over the orders, merely mumbling “Yes” at the end of each section.  When he finished reading, he put his PADD down and faced Pullman.  “Yes, Pullman, everything seems in order.  What is this alarming concern of yours?”

“This is a major deviation from the original orders we received and the situation in Flaxos.”

As was his established style, Flores brushed away Pullman’s concerns.  “No deviation.  Just an acceleration of the inevitable course of events.”

“You knew about these changes?”  Pullman was usually slow to anger, but the constant friction with Flores had shortened his temper considerably and he felt the rise of anger building under his collar.

“Of course.  It is all part of my plan,” Flores announced smugly.

“And when were you going to share that part of your plan with me, Senior Moderator Flores?”

Flores’s face and temperament darkened considerably.  “I do not answer to you, Pullman.  As you Starfleet people are fond of pointing out, you did not ‘need to know.'”

The diplomat’s attitude shifted back to its familiar, condescending attitude.  He was about to share a portion of his vast knowledge and experience with the Starfleet simpleton.  “The Federation usually offers colony worlds Starfleet assistance and protection as a reward for making the appropriate concessions and guarantees.  Rest assured, despite the official flourishes, this negotiation is not about the colonies.  It is about keeping the other powers out.  The art of diplomacy is handing a peasant a sword so he can defend your castle and having him believe you have bestowed a gift of divine proportions upon him.”

“And the colonies are your peasants….”

“Naturally.”  Flores shrugged as if it was obvious.

“About these new orders, Senior Moderator Flores?”

Flores sighed dramatically.  “What about these orders trouble you, Pullman?”

“Several things,” Pullman admitted, “but primarily the pilot training detachment.”  Flores’s diplomatic sword was providing the colonies with old runabouts that they would use to provide security along the vulnerable civilian trade route leading to the Badlands.  A significant part of that transaction was providing Starfleet pilots to train the colonies’ new pilots and to take part in the patrols as “observers and evaluators.”

“Although it is listed as a ‘training and support’ squadron, the accompanying documentation clearly designates this as a starfighter squadron.  The orders do not include information on this squadron and no one here or at TF 21 knows anything about its composition or status.  Do you have any information on this squadron, Senior Moderator Flores?”

“No,” replied Flores, genuinely surprised by the obvious non sequitur.  “That is a detail for Starfleet.”

“That may be so, Senior Moderator Flores, but this could impact your mission.  A squadron often has eight to 20 pilots, plus the operations and maintenance personnel.  That might be an additional 30-50 people.  We’ve already…”

“Pullman, my job is to conduct these negotiations.  It is your responsibility to take care of any Starfleet details.”

“I understand, Sir, but in the cases where these overlap…”

“We have had this discussion multiple times and I am dismayed that I have to continually repeat myself.  If you are uncapable of fulfilling your responsibilities, I can have my office request a replacement.”

Pullman was tempted to accept the offer.  The moderator’s grating personality and failure to share important details were stressing the captain out.  It would be a relief to get out from this situation and Commodore Ekwueme’s politically-motivated orders.  The repercussions would likely be severe, but were looking more appealing each day working with the senior moderator.

The captain decided on a course of action.  He put on the air of a repentant junior officer.  “That will not be necessary, Sir.  I will handle all these details, Senior Moderator Flores.”

Until this moment, it had been Pullman’s intention to work with the moderator to find solutions to the problems posed by the new orders.  Now the insufferable oaf would learn the value of sharing and cooperation the hard way.