Lieutenant Junior Grade al-Kwaritzmi’s personal log, supplemental. The ship has arrived at Rellite, a century-old Tellarite colony, and apparently we have been contacted by the Planetary Representative of Rellite to the Federation Council. —

Iskander stopped and scratched his chin.

I meant, Lieutenant al-Kwaritzmi’s personal log. Apparently the Councilor has requested several Engineering squads to be assembled and put at her disposal for goals that have not yet been revealed. Apparently I am to take care of one of the teams. Commander Durbus has ordered a meeting in twenty minutes for the Rellite Councilor to brief us.

The Rellite Planetary Representative to the Council of the United Federation of Planets was a short, gray Tellarite woman named Surblona Grinz. She was dressed in magnificent orange-and-blue robes, embroiled in white letters, and considered the Starfleet personnel with small, sharp, cunning eyes.

“I suppose that I must declare it is a pleasure to meet you” were the first words she said. “I suppose it is good to be diplomatic to those, such as you, who are not used to our customs.”

Sitting opposite her at the briefing table, in one of the USS Redding meeting rooms, were Commander Vistia Xe, Lieutenant Commander Mir Durbus, and Lieutenant Huv and Iskander: the XO and three engineers.

Iskander nervously looked at his crewmates. Mir Durbus and Huv seemed taken aback from such an introduction — while Vistia Xe, Deltan to the core, didn’t seem to be phased.

He had been born and raised on an old space station — one of the first deep-space human settlements, a joint venture between humans and Denobulans, and very much pre-Federation just like Rellite. Being such an early outpost, it had attracted a number of Tellarites: the al-Kwaritzmi’s neighbours had been Tellarites, and his first instinct had been to respond to the Councilor with a good amount of snark.

“We appreciate your tact” answered Commander Xe, well in control of herself. “But do not strain yourself on our account, Councilor.”

The Councilor stared quickly at Commander Xe.

“Someone has to make an effort” she replied.

“Quite. Now, if you could finally brief us on our mission parameters, we would be most appreciative” said Vistia Xe.

The Tellarite nodded.

“The… whatever your ship is called… has been requisitioned in order to assist with engineering infrastructure linked to our upcoming elections.”

Mir Durbus, as blue as always, seemed a bit perplexed.

“Your planet has been inhabited and civilized for 500 years. I’m astonished that your electoral infrastructure is not ready.”

“Our infrastructure is the most advanced in the galaxy — a sentence that no one has ever said about anything Bolian ever” replied the Councilor. “This limited ship couldn’t help us with anything on a planetary scale. It is a specific political party that requires assistance with building up its miserable, inexistant infrastructure.”

Mir Durbus’ color veered towards being a bit more blue than beforehand.

“One specific party gets Starfleet assistance?” repeated Vistia Xe. “That is unusual. Is it customary amongst Tellarites to arrange things thusly?”

“Hah” snorted Grinz. “Honestly, I am also a bit surprised that it has come to this. Starfleet is no stranger to provide help and relief to civilians — sometimes looking at the activity logs one has the feeling half of your ships are actually granaries — and it has taken a bit of word-wrangling to make the legal argument that assisting an unprepared political party in an election falls under civilian help. But the lawyers of this party have made a case based on the Rellite Accord of Joinder to the Federation, signed three months after Tellar Prime gloriously founded the United Federation of Planets, and the courts have agreed that the argument, unorthodox as it may be, stands.”

“And why couldn’t they get help on help? I’m sure that you have engineers” intervened Mir Durbus again.

“The organizers of this party don’t trust other Tellarites for reasons that I won’t bother you with. Affairs dating back to Shallash. They prefer the politically uncultivated and ignorant.”

“Wouldn’t it seem partisan? Starfleet can’t be seen favoring one political party” remarked again the Deltan, calm.

“I know as well as you do that Starfleet really cares about its operational independence, as if you didn’t fart as disgustingly as anyone else. That said, you shan’t worry your shaven head, Commander. The offer of Starfleet help has been extended to all other parties — they have had a laugh and said that they don’t need it. So you see — Starfleet isn’t favoring anyone: it is offering to everyone, and only one party is availing itself of you.”

“How very balanced of us” agreed the Deltan.

“All other political parties have clearly decided that a small ship such as this could do nothing good for them” added Grinz.

Iskander sighed and hrrumphed.

“They clearly had no hope,” he intervened, “that their Councilor would have any capability to secure a more impressive ship.”

Vistia Xe’s expression did not change even slightly as she squared him with her cool, calm eyes; but Mir Durbus seemed positively aghast at this breach of diplomacy from one of her engineers.

The Tellarite Councilor moved for the first time her gaze on Iskander.

“Lieutenant al-Kwaritzmi” she said, quite surprisingly. “You grew up on Kera Fedox, right? Many Tellarites on that station. Has their sharp tongue rubbed somewhat on you?”

Iskander tried his best not to show surprise in realizing that the Tellarite had done some research on him. It was all openly available information, which anyone could read with a simple computer query, but why had she collected such intelligence?

And, if she had, he wondered, she wouldn’t have started with him, a lowly Lieutenant. Where had she stopped? Had she looked through the biographies of all members of Engineering? And, if so, why?

“The Tellarites of Kera Fedox have positively barbed tongues” he answered with a smile. “And, on that account, I want to compliment you on the solidity of your diplomatic training, Councilor, as I didn’t detect a single barb until now.”

At age seven, Iskander had started a fight with the Tellarite neighbour, Krina, by telling him that his insults were weak and inoffensive. It had resulted in a trip to the medical center to take care of a series of bites and tusk stabs. Orsos had been beyond himself with worry.

The Tellarite’s small eyes narrowed.

“How I wish I could waste the time by debating you a little bit more” she said. “But let’s go back to the assignment. We have requested three teams. Commander Durbus, Lieutenant al-Kwaritzmi, and Lieutenant Huv will lead them.”

She produced three PADDS of Tellarite making and passed them around.

“I’ll summarize and then leave this cold starship” said the Councilor. “Commander Durbus has the most glorious task: assisting with building the conference room where the party is going to direct its campaign. You’ll find schematics in there.”

Mir Durbus scrolled on her PADD and gasped.

“How large is that thing? Is that gold?” she asked.

“Very, and yes. Don’t worry, most of it already exists, you just have to install modern technology — holoemitters, ODS connections, and so on — in there. During that, Lieutenant Huv is going to be building the communication capability in the background. Telemetry, data feeds, computers, servers, all of that sort of stuff.”

“I understand” said Huv, speaking for the first time.

“And Lieutenant al-Kwaritzmi’s team… you’re going, apparently, to unfreeze the political candidate from his 300-year-old stasis. A political campaign needs a candidate, I’m told. Good luck to you all.”