“You had no right to speak for Betazed!”

The Chamber of Matriarchs was almost as pretentious as it sounded. Not quite as pretentious as some of the women present. And definitely not as pretentious as the older woman who was presently on her feet verbally berating Fleet Captain Tikva Theodoras for the last few minutes.

It was a circular chamber with a high vaulting roof that would have given the Greeks and Romans a fit. White marble floors combined with pink marble columns around the outside of the vast chamber supporting the dome that, with carefully designed openings, let natural light pour into the space. A raised semi-circle occupied one side of the room, a single bench for which twenty-one seats were evenly placed, house banners behind each seat.

The woman who was shouting was from where Tikva stood in the centre of the room, nearly twenty meters away. She didn’t need to shout; the room’s acoustics were fantastic, as was its sound system. But shout she did.

Matriarch Rentul had started almost as soon as the session had commenced. While not all the matriarchs with sufficient clout to demand a seat at the table were present, enough had shown to form a quorum for Betazed’s highest level of government. The Prime Minister and her cabinet ran the day to day, enacting the will and edicts of the Cabinet of Matriarchs. And in a matter like the eminent invasion of Betazed, consultation with the most powerful families, the old stewards of power, wasn’t just a ritual of state, it was required.

“None!” Mistress Rentul continued, pointing an accusatory finger as she leaned over her section of the dark wood bench. “You have violated the sovereignty of this body! You have ruined any chance we might have had of negotiating with –”

“Oh, shut up, you blithering old hag!” interrupted a voice from the other side of the semi-circle. This woman, decades Tikva’s senior but also decades the junior of Rentul, hadn’t bothered to stand, or point fingers. She barely raised her voice, but was heard loudly and clearly by simply leaning in closer to the microphone in front of her. “You’re just angry you couldn’t come up with something as pithy as she did.”

Rentul’s anger transitioned instantly towards the speaker, her face flushing, her mouth agape in stunned silence. “I…I don’t have to –”

“Sit down,” the speaker barked out in response. Tikva watched as more than a few of the present matriarchs smirked at the exchange, a couple glowered, but the majority remained as impassive as they could. “I’m so sorry about that, my dear,” the woman now said, looking to Tikva, presenting a motherly smile as she did so. “While Jessamine might have a point about you speaking for Betazed out of turn, you’ve at least eliminated hours of pointless discussion that would have landed us at the same point. So, for that, you have my thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Madam Trind,” Tikva replied, unable to keep the confusion from her voice. She and Prime Minister Mevah Ezea were both standing in the middle of the chamber, forced to speak loudly, to project their voices, to be heard. “But we really do need to discuss the defence of Betazed.”

“That is a matter for Betazed and her people!” Rentul had found her righteous anger once more. Even found her feet too. “Not some off-world Starfleet officer spoiling for a fight!”

Two loud thumps reverberated around the chamber. One of the other matriarchs had tapped at her microphone, the equivalent of clearing one’s throat, drawing all attention to her. “She is a child of Betazed,” the voice said quietly, staring daggers towards Jassamine Rentul. “And it is Starfleet’s duty to defend Federation worlds in the face of aggression.”

This woman was the one that Tikva Theodoras had been dreading speaking the most since she’d entered this chamber. She’d been absent the two other times Tikva had come here to address the true rulers of Betazed. Nule Asimi, matriarch of the Ninth House and bearer of the Scepter of Vrinn, whatever state relic that was. She wore muted darker colours, which highlighted her sun-starved complexion and greying hair and complimented the steely resolve in her cold eyes. A steely resolve that was presently directed at Jessamine Rentul.

Nule Asimi, the grandmother with whom she’d never seen in person before, spoken a word to or even exchanged letters with. She was, in reality, just another stuffy near-monarch of a world that wore enough of a facsimile to democratic self-governance that the Federation gave Betazed a pass.

“Thank you, Nule,” Madam Trind said, again coming off as sweet motherly sort while sounding very much like she was used to juggling the reactionary firebrand that was Jessamine Rentul. “Regretably, Fleet Captain, Betazed’s ability to defend itself is somewhat limited, as you must know by now. We’re so used to being able to merely signal Starfleet for aid and have a fleet arrive within hours if required.”

Mevah Ezea spoke up this time. “Matriarchs, I have already informed Commodore Usino to begin summoning all reservists back to Planetary Defence. He has informed me that nearly fifty-five percent of the orbital platforms will be combat capable within two days.”

“And within five hours?” another voice asked. Tikva couldn’t place the full name of the woman, but Thawn came to mind. The Twelfth House of Betazed and holder of more than a few off-world ventures that lay beyond the Slow Zone right now. She immediately leaned over to whisper something to the woman beside her while waiting for an answer.

“No change as of right now. Less than thirty percent,” Ezra admitted.

The woman that Thawn had spoken to leaned forward, eyes directed at Nule Asimi. “The Ninth House has largely been responsible for building and maintaining the orbital defence command centre. Is it true that the automated command-and-control computer system is still in place?”

Nule Asimi leaned forward slowly, carefully, taking as much time as she could to choose her words before speaking. “Yes.” Simplicity allowed her to hide further detail and helped to prevent any slip-ups that elaborating might have caused.

“By the Four Goddesses!” Rentul exclaimed as she shot to her feet again. “You can’t seriously be considering turning that thing on? Do you want Betazed to become another Mars?”

“No.” It was, Tikva reflected, going to end up as her catchphrase at the end of this. She’d heard about that cadet stunt on Starbase Bravo and the statue after the Deneb Crisis. Now she could just see it with ‘No’ on a plaque under it. “But unless you are willing to let Betazed be conquered by an invading power, Commodore Usino and myself are going to need a lot more firepower to keep the Vaadwaur Supremacy at bay.”

Matriarch Trind spoke up, before anyone else who was busy gathering steam. “You shall have what we can spare, Fleet Captain. And this august body will continue to discuss the issue of planetary defence. In private.” She was glaring across at Rentul and the few supporters the older woman had. Then turned on the smile once more as she looked to Tikva and Prime Minister Ezea. “So that you two can proceed with preparations in the meantime, of course.”

“Madam,” Tikva said. “We really need to –”

“Fleet Captain,” Trind interrupted. “There is nothing more we can grant you without proper discussion. Discussion that will only serve to waste your time. Time you can be using to prepare, yes? Please, do what you can for now and we’ll do what we can.”

The shouting and bickering at least waited until Tikva and Mevah had exited the chamber, the door closed by the uniformed attendants.

“That could have gone better.” Mevah Ezea sounded exhausted, and they’d barely had five minutes before the matriarchs. “Couldn’t have gone much worse.” She sighed, shaking her head as she continued to walk. “I better go get my world ready for whatever the Vaadwaur are bringing.”

“Anything I could do to help?” The question was polite formality, but Tikva couldn’t just ignore it. She’d at least make the offer.

Ezea’s hand wave was answer enough. “I would say, Fleet Captain, you’ve done enough by ruining any chance we had at negotiation.” She then stopped and faced Tikva. “You came to Betazed to see Doctor Arrim Meto. Your grandmother has made it clear to Enab Von that you aren’t to see him.” Ezea drew in a breath, drew in strength before she continued down a path she didn’t want to tread. “You save my world, I’ll see to it you see Meto.”

“I don’t need some bargain or promise to do my duty,” Tikva responded coldly.

“Fine, fine.” Ezea shook her head. “But all the same, you save Betazed and I’ll get you that meeting.” And then she turned away without another word, her aides swarming her as she walked away and back to her duties.

“Good news, Mr Fightmaster,” Tikva said as she felt a familiar presence step up beside her.

“The Vaadwaur scout dipped back into the Slow Zone while you were meeting with the matriarchs. Commander Kennedy has enacted Blindside and confirms assets are in place.” It wasn’t good news, but it wasn’t bad either. Then he held up a small white paper bag. “I was also able to secure some of the pastries you liked from the bakery down the road.”

She took the bag, smiling as she examined the contents. Then extracted one before offering the other to her yeoman. “Now this,” she said happily, setting off for the shuttle parked on a pad nearby, “this is why I’m going to save Betazed.”

“Pastries, ma’am?”

“Not just any pastries. Honey-glazed pastries,” Tikva answered. “Right, guess it’s time to go and get ready to welcome some unwanted visitors.”