The office of the Speaker of the Assembly wasn’t a terribly large space but functional in all the important ways. A desk, some chairs, enough space to not feel cramped but not so big that one could hold the entire Assembly in a crunch. Wall space for plagues and framed letters, some family photos, and a flag in each corner behind the desk to remind people just whose office they were either standing or sitting in. A door to the side led out of the room, but from what Tikva had seen while being escorted here, was likely private or access to an escape route knowing Romulan politics.

She’d beamed down only an hour ago with Dr Pisani and Counselor Hu as named members of her party, but Lt Ch’tkk’va and four security officers had accompanied them. No ceremonial guard for her, but Ch’tkk’va had insisted on at least two phaser rifles.

“Our hive must project some strength to their hives, lest they fall into a delusion and decide to attack,” they reasoned with her in the transporter room.

The appearance of strength is strength itself.

No it’s not, that’s pure folly.

I dunno, seems reasonable to me.

They’d been met by Secretary T’lint and seen in full view of assembled crowds as they entered Government House. No doubt the display was arranged by the Secretary who she had to admit seemed to have her fingers on the pulse of Daloon’s media. And a skill at manipulating it.

But the meeting hadn’t been long, the Magistrate deciding he wasn’t feeling well today and not taking visitors. Which at least allowed her to speak with Rel some more. Of the two, she was far more personable and reasonable. Perhaps a factor of her youth at just over half the age of her father. She’d seen the Romulan Star Empire, the galaxy even, go through so many sweeping changes in her life whereas her father could still recall glory days of galactic stability, if not marginal peace.

Those days, if outright war could be avoided, might return, but they’d be hard-fought for and would need people with a vision on all sides.

But that meeting had mostly been for show before she’d made the effort of leaving Government House and crossing its expansive front lawns, then the street that could have served as an impromptu shuttle port or parade ground and entered into the House of the Assembly. It too was wrapped in the regalia of days old, of Romulan power manifest. Clearly, someone ordered it well maintained as a symbol.

Guards, different to those at Government House, or the slight planetary garrison that had early on declared for their home, meet them in a line just inside. She’d been told to expect them, the Assembly’s own personal guards, a gift from a previous Magistrate to make the Assembly feel important, but never allowed to expand to become a true threat.

There she’d been allowed to keep exactly one of her own, the other barred from entry until the Speaker allowed it. And  so from there she’d finally been escorted with Lt Ch’tkk’va through the building to the Speaker’s office and asked to wait till she arrived.

And wait she did and waited some more. She’d taken a seat, Ch’tkk’va took a stance by a wall she recognised as their ‘at ease’ stance. They’d discussed the Hazard Team, in vague details at best, then a few operational matters again in terms that wouldn’t hint at anything important. Nearly fifteen minutes passed before a slight, short and hunched Romulan woman barged into the room with enough speed and vigour that she got a response from Ch’tkk’va nearly straight away.

“Bah! Don’t get up,” the woman said as she spared a quick glance at Ch’tkk’va and made her way around the desk, working her way into her chair. “I know who you are and why you’re here.” The woman’s tone was rushed, her voice scratchy and surprisingly husky. She was easily, from an initial impression, the same age group, or even older, than the Magistrate. But she was small and her posture made her look even smaller. Her attitude however gave the impression of a very dangerous grandma. No one was too young, tall or fit for her to give an earful to, or smack around the head for being an idiot.

I kinda like her.

She’s not going to take any shit from anyone.

That does include us.

It all tasted of sweet wine with a hint of spice to it. Again, flavour and emotions were something she’d have to blame her family for. She’d never really sat down and discussed things like that with another betazoid, or half-betazoid even. Something to add to the list.

“That saves some introductions Madam Speaker, but alas, I’ve only been given your title,” she said after a short moment. “Or would you prefer I only use your title?”

The woman glared at her for a moment, judging her, then faintly smiled. “Starfleet officers never change, always with politeness.” She huffed, then grabbed her desk and pulled on it, her chair rolling closer to the desk. She looked even smaller now, but it was balanced by the intensity in her eyes. “Call me Pam.”

“Pam?” she asked instinctively upon hearing such a human name.

“It’s easier than Pamisa,” the woman countered. “And you,” she turned on Ch’tkk’va, “take a seat, you’re making me nervous.”

“I don’t sit,” the Xindi replied slowly, clearly choosing precise words for the universal translator not to make a faux pas in this instance.

“Insects!” Pam cried out. “Don’t know why you have one. Didn’t they try to kill your species once? Shindi? Lindi?”

“Xindi and only once,” Tikva answered. “But then we started talking and now they’re part of the Federation. Valued even for their unique insight and culture.”

“There is value,” Ch’tkk’va spoke, again slowly, “in preserving one’s hive while working in concert with other hives. We discovered, in the end, our two hives had more to offer each other working together.” They didn’t correct the word hive with community, which Tikva suspected was on purpose, to highlight the cultural differences.

“Huh. Interesting.” Pam stared at Ch’tkk’va a moment more, then seemingly dismissed them from her mind. “You’ll be taking my seat during the debates. It’s my job to make sure you know what you’re doing.” She glared, like a grandmother trying to scry the truth about their grandchildren. “Protocols, rules, how to moderate a debate.”

“Parliamentary rules and procedures, yes.” She’d been reading them, or at least what she’d been provided. “The documentation I have is…obtuse. I suspect even a Sheliak would have difficulty with it.”

“What’s a Sheliak?” Pam asked.

“Distil the essence of a lawyer repeatedly, over and over again. Then when you have nothing but legalese left over, you have the barest fraction of what a Sheliak is.” She shrugged as Pam raised an eyebrow at that. “It took nearly four hundred of the Federation’s best legal minds to negotiate a treaty with them a century ago.”

“Huh, well in any case I want my documentation to be obtuse, else those fools would have replaced me years ago.” And there was a cheeky grin to that. “You don’t stay Speaker for forty years without a few tricks to keep your job. And that fat idiot Tanok won’t veto me either because he needs me, just as you need me now.”

“Well Pam, I came to ask for your guidance and assistance then. I’m hoping to engage with some of the leaders later today for first meetings and hopefully start debates in two days time. Would that be enough time?”

The woman mulled it over for a bit, and then pushed her chair back. “You’ll need robes. You aren’t entering my chamber unless properly dressed.” A draw was opened and a padd pulled out, the first bit of technology Tikva had seen in the room. A few keystrokes from fingers curled with age and then the padd was set back into the drawer. “My tailor will be here shortly. He’ll sort you out.”

“That’s generous.”

“It’s a nicety because you aren’t going anywhere for the rest of the day.” That had sounded vaguely threatening and even Ch’tkk’va had picked up on it. But Pam just smirked at her. “The best way to learn the rules of my Assembly,” the possessive ‘my’ was very heavy, “is to learn them from the master.”

“Then shall we get started?” she asked.

“How about some tea first? And I let your people in as well hmm?” She pushed a button out of sight and the door to the preceding office opened, her secretary, a Romulan man of middling age, stepped in. “Tell Captain Gorvin to let the Federation visitors in and see them to a meeting room. Then have snacks and drinks delivered to them.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a bow. “Would you like anything as well?”

“Tea, three cups,” she looked to Ch’tkk’va, who didn’t decline. “Three cups.”

“Very well ma’am, right away.” And he was soon out of sight, the door closing behind him.

“Now Captain Theodoras,” Pam said as she leaned forward as far as she could, “tell me about yourself.”