Governor Morgan Wakefield sat behind her opulently adorned marble desk, carved from the same quarry that the stones of the Eisenplatz were sourced. Every object on the desk’s surface, as well as everything lining the shelves and wall behind her were deliberately placed to give the beholder a sense that Wakefield was dedicated to the traditions and values that the M-11 Colony had stood for since its founding 170 years ago. The man sitting directly across from the Governor knew for a fact that it was all a farce.

Chairman Matthias Eisenhart sat cross-legged in the plush chair positioned before Morgan’s desk, his slightly narrowed eyes boring holes into the woman as she sat in silence. As was their habit, Wakefield would pretend to be occupied with some urgent matter of state while Eisenhart would stare at her with no expression whatsoever until she finally grew tired of the performance. And to Matthias’ surprise, she grew weary of the charade a lot sooner than usual.

“This is the second time that girl has weaseled out of so much as an implied promise of support,” the Governor finally said, displeasure plain on her face.

“Then this would also count as the second time your posturing and self-aggrandizing has backfired. I almost envy the Commander for how adept she is at sidestepping your machinations, Morgan. Alaric could certainly use a pointer or two on that front,” the Chairman said while making no attempt to hide his amusement over the matter.

“Were you not the one who was the keenest to secure her support for Foundation Day?” Wakefield asked, her tone razor sharp.

Matthias gave her the slightest of shrugs in response, “Regardless of my desires, I also recognize that our newest station commander is far more pragmatic than you’ve given her credit for. In that way, she reminds me very much of Commissioner Watanabe. I even caught her nodding along to some of what Tanaka was saying as if she agreed with his methodology. Or were you too busy preening yourself during the meeting that you didn’t notice that?”

Morgan snorted at the accusation, “A little head wobbling hardly proves anything other than she’s had a career outside of command. To call upon that as some measure of competence is rather shaky at best, especially considering she did not accept a single one of Takumi’s proposals for her station’s involvement in the logistical aspects of our celebration.”

“In her shoes, I wouldn’t have either. Just because his proposals sounded good while he was pitching them. The greed that showed through the cracks of his plans would have been lost only on someone as naïve as a child,” Matthias pointed out with a scoff of his own.

The Governor’s eyes narrowed maliciously, “Speaking of children in the room, your son did a magnificent job of tripping over his own two feet the entire time. Are the Eisenhart heirs so sheltered that a marginally attractive Vulcan is all it takes to render them ineffective?”

“Where you see weakness, Morgan, I see an opportunity,” the elder Eisenhart chuckled dismissively. “Alaric may not have the political acumen that some of your own children pretend to have already mastered, but he does exude honest and innocent intention. Many a fortress of ice has been melted by a bumbling fool.”

Wakefield couldn’t keep the scowl off her face, “Melting the heart of that Vulcan ice princess will likely be a bridge too far for that boy of yours. But I think, rather than try to dissuade you from your foolishness, I’ll simply let your boy fall flat on his face and enjoy holding it over your head for the rest of your life.”

“Please do, Morgan… should it come to pass,” Matthias smirked, then changed the subject. “I’ve heard one of your grandchildren just graduated from the Academy. Has she been told where they’re sending her?”

The Governor shifted uncomfortably at the question, “We haven’t spoken…”

“I’d thought that might be the case,” the Chairman nodded.

“What does that have to do with anything we’ve been discussing, Matt? You wouldn’t simply change the subject unless you had something to say, so say it,” Morgan huffed in annoyance.

“She was supposed to be assigned…” Eisenhart pointed upward toward the ceiling, his meaning immediately obvious, “But I’ve heard she’s in the middle of trying to negotiate for another assignment instead. Strange that little Hailey Wakefield doesn’t want to come home and be a part of Foundation Day…”

Elsewhere in the Founder’s Hall, Alaric Eisenhart was still sitting at the table he’d occupied throughout the committee meeting, though his mind was on anything but the contents of it. From the moment that Commander Novak had walked in the room, Alaric had been captivated by her. It wasn’t some infatuation with her looks, even if she wasn’t unattractive by any measure. What held his interest was the way she carried herself into the room, as if every step she took expanded her dominion. It only got worse when she deftly batted aside attempt after attempt to force a commitment from her and the starbase above that was advantageous only to the colony.

Commissioner Claire Dumont had also stayed behind after the meeting, mainly because Alaric was her subordinate and she’d tasked him with organizing the workload that had been agreed upon and drafting preliminary requests from the departments involved. The amusement on her face as she watched the young man pause now and again to stare at the seat that the woman Commander had been in during the meeting was as plain as the nose on her face.

“Al,” Claire said as she grabbed his shoulder, “You can pine later for your departed love. Right now, I need those drafts so I can get people moving on the exhibits.”

Alaric flinched sharply at the sudden contact, “I’m sorry, Commissioner… I was… I was just lost in thought, that’s all. I have most of the documents ready.”

“Is that what the youngsters call it these days, being lost in thought? Hardly a romantic sentiment,” Dumont teased.

“I wasn’t trying to be romantic,” Alaric argued, “I was just distracted by a thought. It’s no different than when you get ahold of a new piece of artwork and we lose half a day to your romantic musings about what it all means.”

Claire pulled back with feigned shock, “Why Alaric… I never knew you to have such venom before. Do you miss her so badly that even your personality has changed?”

“Oh shut up…” the young Eisenhart grumbled, squirming in his seat.

“Yes yes… as soon as you finish those requests, I’ll be happy to leave you alone to yearn for a woman well out of your league,” Dumont smirked.

Alaric shook his head in frustration, scrawling out the last of the requisition forms on the surface of his PaDD. When the task was finally complete, he shoved the device into the woman’s hands with a petulant huff. Claire just laughed as she watched him vacate his seat finally, sparing only a second’s glance at the chair Commander Novak had long since departed before storming out of the Council Chamber.

“Ah… to be young…” Claire giggled childishly at her own joke.