Aun sniffed his ceramic globe, and shot a reproving look at the aide. "There is no need for panic," he said. "One must take the long view.... Our social system is perfect, and it is more than adequate to withstand a few... upheavals. We will simply wait out whatever is required of us." He frowned. "Of course, there is the matter of... repopulating... the religious caste. Well, there are younger sons of administrative and military families who may discover within themselves a religious vocation...."
He carefully avoided looking out of one window, where the Pantheon of all the gods had been recently replaced by the Temple of Sebreac Tharr... which had, itself, been still more recently replaced by a smoking crater, courtesy of the Klingons' orbital bombardment.
There was the sound of heavy, booted feet in the corridor outside. Sivetalin Aun put down the ceramic globe. He motioned for the aide to withdraw. He stood, and composed himself, hands folded before him, head bowed - not much, just enough of an inclination to suggest a polite submission.
The door of the office opened.
"Chancellor," said Aun, and bowed - not too deeply. "I bid you welcome. I regret the military adventurism that has estranged my people from the Empire, and I assure you that we are now ready once more to take our rightful place as a loyal tributary state."
J'mpok stared hard at him for a moment. "Very good," he said. "Very good. They told me you were an optimist - I did not realize you were also a comedian." But he showed no signs of laughing.
"If we are not to be your loyal tributary -" began Aun.
"Oh, your status has been decided," said J'mpok. "You have decided it for yourselves, with your rebellion, your assaults on the Empire and its allies, your treatment of captives -" He took a deep breath. "The Empire is, to some extent, at fault. We let your corrupt social system continue, we did not act fast enough to nip your rebellion in the bud. Well, we will take measures now. Your status is that of a conquered province under direct Imperial rule. Your military leadership - tell me, has Gamariden Tal killed himself yet?"
"Our military, ahh, do not observe such a custom in the case of defeat."
J'mpok shook his head. "Then we will attend to that detail. Your military leaders, such as remain, face execution for rebellion. For the moment, for the sake of our convenience, we will retain your administrative structure. Your legislative council will continue, you yourself -" he looked around him with a sneer "- will continue to occupy your office. But you will propose no legislation of your own, and you will oppose no rulings of your governor. Do you understand?"
Aun bowed his head. "I understand, Chancellor."
"Understand this also," said J'mpok. "There will be changes. There will be reforms. We will need to do something about your population problem -" He sniffed. "Intelligent beings restrain themselves."
"It is possible," murmured Aun, "I think - I offer it as a suggestion, nothing more - that a sterilization programme could be implemented among the labouring caste. The drabs have always bred to excess -"
"An interesting suggestion," said J'mpok. "We might start with the members of the former military caste, and those members of the administrative caste who are being immediately - phased out, as it were. At least the religious caste poses no problems." The priesthood of Sebreac Tharr was gone already - most of the priests killed during the reconquest by Starfleet, the KDF and the Republic of the hastily acquired Siohonin territories, the rest destroyed by their own people, when it became apparent how their god had failed. "We are reforming your social system, Aun. We are not the Federation, to bow to their Prime Directive."
He rummaged in one pocket of his leather coat. "That reminds me," he said. He drew out a handful of datapads. "You are an optimist, Aun. I am aware of your back-channel diplomatic efforts. I have the results here." He slapped the first datapad down on Aun's desk. "Your application for Federation membership. The Federation Council is very rarely unanimous, but they were unanimous in this - not one member spoke in favour, or even abstained from the vote. You might possibly have made history, there." He added another datapad. "The Cardassian Union, likewise, denies your petition for an alliance. They have a shorter answer, being less of a talking shop than the Federation. And the Romulan Republic - well, they follow D'Tan, and D'Tan's answer -" another datapad joined the pile "- was one simple word, no. Obisek, I gather, also answered with one word, but it burned out the datapad. The Breen Confederacy -" slap "- also, no."
He held one datapad still in his hand. "The Ferengi Alliance is true to its principles," he said. "The Grand Nagus will admit your planet as a member, if you can pay the entrance fee. It is, mind you, a substantial fee - my scientists tell me that it translates to a sphere of pure latinum some eight light-hours in diameter. The Grand Nagus has asked me to inform you that credit will not be extended."
He slammed the last datapad down onto the pile. It overbalanced, tipping off the edge of the desk.
"You are without friends in the galaxy, Sivetalin Aun," said J'mpok. "Save for me. Save for me - and my friendship has strict limits. Test them at your peril."
Aun said nothing.
"Limits," said J'mpok. "No Siohonin is to have ownership, part-ownership, or functional control of any warp-capable vessel. No Siohonin is to bear arms - energy or projectile weapons. It has been suggested to me that some may need protection against wild animals, or that the police might be allowed stun weapons. But your ecosystem has been abused to the point where there are no large predators, and the police can always use clubs. Your people may not bear arms, under penalty of immediate summary execution."
Again, Aun made no reply.
"I know your thoughts, Sivetalin Aun," said J'mpok. "You take the long view - I know this. You believe the simple inertia of your society, of your overly vast population, will carry the day in the end. That our reforms will fail under the sheer weight of your existing system." He grinned without mirth. "Who knows? You may be right. But we have chosen a Governor for your people, a Governor of zeal and ability - and with one other, most suitable quality." He turned to the door. "Send the Governor in!" he bellowed.
Footsteps sounded, and a new figure stood in the doorway - and, for the first time, Sivetalin Aun knew despair.
"I am Zhura, daughter of Zur, of the House of T'Qagh. By order of the Chancellor and the High Council, I am Governor and absolute sovereign of this star system." Her hot dark eyes raked Aun with contempt from head to foot. "Kneel."
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