Articles of the Federation

by Keith R. A. DeCandido

  Ross shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Ma’am, I think you overestimate my importance. You won that election without any help from me.”

  “Bull,” Bacco said angrily. “I had plenty of help from you, and while I’m flattered that you think I could’ve managed without it, that doesn’t change the fact that you did what you did. Now maybe I should’ve said something right after Esperanza found out, but I thought it was best to let it lie. We need to move past what Zife did to the Federation, and we couldn’t do that if we rehashed Tezwa all over again.”

  Ross frowned. “I take the fact that we’re having this meeting to indicate that something’s changed.”

  Bacco nodded. “There’s a reporter down on the second floor right now who just had a long conversation with Kant Jorel, who then had a long conversation with Esperanza, who just had a long conversation with me, during the middle of which I had Sivak call you over here.” She walked back over to her desk and sat back down. “This reporter knows that Zife was responsible for the cannons on Tezwa, knows that Tezwa couldn’t afford those cannons and the Danteri ships they bought, knows that Quafina used the Orion Syndicate to funnel the cannons to Tezwa, and knows that Starfleet found out and that they—that is to say, you—forced Zife to resign to pay for the rather vicious crimes he committed, since a public airing of them would be disastrous.”

  Appalled, Ross asked, “You’re not going to let the story run, are you?” At that, Bacco tilted her head, and Ross realized he’d misspoken. “I mean, there must be some way to convince—I mean—”

  “What do you suggest, Admiral?” Bacco asked tightly. “We make this person disappear? That’s not how we do things.”

  Ross had to almost physically restrain himself.

  Then Bacco got a look of horror on her face. “Isn’t it?”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Back in May when Jaresh-Inyo died, Esperanza tried to track Zife down to invite him to the funeral on Mars. She couldn’t find him. She couldn’t find any sign of him. Nobody on Bolarus, on Earth, anywhere knew where to find the most prominent person in the Federation for the last eight years. It shouldn’t be that hard, if all he did was retire.”

  Ross said nothing. He worked for this woman, admired this woman, and because of that, because he knew how important she was to the Federation, how necessary it was that she keep doing the job she was doing, he could not under any circumstances afford to tell her the whole truth.

  Because if she knew what he knew, she would disappear as completely as Min Zife, Koll Azernal, and Nelino Quafina had. And there would be nothing William Ross could do about it this time, either.

  “You know, when I started this conversation,” she said, “I was concerned about what I had to do, but the more I talk to you, Admiral, the less problem I have with it.”

  Now Ross was confused. “I don’t know what you—”

  “The reporter—and I think I’m going to refrain from giving you the person’s name—has discussed the matter with the Palais press liaison and has informed him that there is a condition on which the story will not be run. If that condition is met, the story will in fact be buried where no one can find it.”

  Ross didn’t hesitate. He stood up. “My resignation?”

  Bacco regarded him. “Actually, the terms weren’t that specific. All that was required was that you no longer have any influence over the running of the Federation or Starfleet. Resignation, retirement, ritual suicide, whatever, as long as you become just an ordinary Federation civilian who’s no longer in a position to exert undue and illegal influence on the Federation government.”

  “Then I’ll resign immediately, ma’am.” Ross didn’t hesitate. This was the only way to preserve the Federation, and Ross never hesitated when it was necessary to preserve the Federation. After he spoke, the thought occurred to him that he would no longer be the highest-ranking Starfleet officer who was answerable to the organization, which meant he’d no longer be able to control their actions. Then he laughed bitterly to himself, being careful to keep his poker face for President Bacco. The control was always theirs, and I’m fooling myself if I ever thought otherwise.

  Then Bacco surprised Ross by saying, “No. Not resignation. Resigning sends up red flags. People resign in protest or resign because of disagreements or to avoid scandal. Retirement, though, that’s normal—particularly for someone like you. You led our forces during a vicious war, and you’ve stayed at the forefront of the admiralty ever since. In fact, lots of people were surprised you didn’t retire after the Founders surrendered.”

  Ross saw the wisdom in her words. “In that case, ma’am, I’ll announce my retirement tomorrow morning.”

  She nodded.

  “Thank you, Madam President.” He turned to leave.

  “Bill?”

  He stopped and turned around. “Ma’am?”

  Focusing a remarkable amount of anger and confusion into one word, Bacco asked, “Why? I can understand why you had to remove him from power, but why take the next step?”

  Why kill them? Ross could understand why Bacco couldn’t say the words out loud. He took a moment to compose his answer in such a way that it wouldn’t even hint to Bacco the real reason. She had to be shielded from that—even though he knew that if there was ever a president who might be able to stand up to them, it was her—and so he said, “Because they killed millions of people—directly or indirectly. Every death caused by those cannons, every death caused by the Klingons’ retaliation, every death caused by Kinchawn’s guerillas after he was removed from power—all of those deaths were on their heads. And worse, they caused more death in order to keep themselves absolved of the crime, and they did it from a distance so they could create the illusion that their hands were clean.” He took a breath. “And so for five minutes in the Monet Room last year, I became them. That reporter downstairs is absolutely right in that there should be consequences for that, and my only regret in all this is that I didn’t take this action before it endangered your presidency, ma’am. For that, I am truly sorry.”

  Bacco said nothing. Ross hoped that she believed his words—which were certainly true, as far as they went.

  Then, finally, she nodded her head.

  “Thank you, Madam President.”

  As Ross turned back around, he wondered what the consequences for him would be. He suspected that they’d let him live out his life in solitude, as long as he didn’t get on their sensor screen.

  Whatever else he might have done, he had performed the paramount duty: Keep the organization a secret.

  His cause for optimism lay in the knowledge that they acted only when they felt it was necessary, as well as in his faith in Nan Bacco’s ability to steer the Federation onto a course that would keep them from finding that necessity.

  The doors slid apart, and William Ross exited the presidential office for the last time.

  December 2380

  “Far and away the best prize that life offers is the chance to work hard at work worth doing.”

  —Theodore Roosevelt

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  THE OBSERVER FOUND the limited beings to be most fascinating. His report to his superiors was almost finished. Over the course of his studies, he had noted that the limited beings would have public discussions about issues that were deemed relevant to their lives, which were disseminated throughout their nation. He had decided to witness one of these discussions, to see if it would provide any additional insight into the limited beings.

  “Good evening. This is Illuminating the City of Light, I’m your host, Velisa. The Palais is gearing up for the summit, but there are still a lot of unanswered questions. Where will it be held? What will be on the agenda? Will the Romulans be involved?”

  The person speaking was biologically of the fifth gender that he had catalogued, colloquial name female, and native of Planet AV9, colloquial name Krios. She seemed to be the leader of the discussion. To her left was another gender-five, a native of Planet AQ1, collo
quial name Vulcan. To her right were a gender-seven (male) from Planet BT5 (Earth), and a gender-two (shen) from Planet AC1 (Andor). There was also a communication device between the AV9 and the AQ1, which displayed the face of another gender-seven, this one from Planet DO3 (Delta).

  “With me tonight to discuss the summit are retired Starfleet Captain Charles Reynolds, who has fought both against and alongside the Klingon Defense Force; former secretary of the exterior under Min Zife, Ythrilasifsa sh’Zathrosia; Councillor T’Latrek of Vulcan, the chair of the external affairs council; and, remotely from Qo’noS, FNS’s Klingon Empire correspondent, Teneso. Welcome, all of you.”

  The observer amended his report to include the nomenclature and position, though they all had far too many syllables to suit him. Since what they did was more important than what they were called, he referred to them by position.

  The discussion leader turned to the current councillor. “T’Latrek, can you tell us what the president and the council would like to get out of this summit?”

  “To build on the cooperative efforts surrounding the investigation of the Klorgat IV disaster and the equally cooperative efforts to maintain peace in Romulan space.”

  “That is a forlorn hope,” the former government official said.

  The discussion leader turned to her. “Why do you say that, Ythril?”

  “The Klingons don’t cooperate. Neither do the Romulans.”

  “Short memory you’ve got there, Madam Secretary,” the former Starfleet captain said. “You were in the cabinet during the war, weren’t you—when all three governments cooperated?”

  “That was a special case. That was an alliance of convenience. In their entire history, the Romulan Star Empire has never maintained an alliance with any outside power for more than a few years. Their entire culture is based on a belief in their manifest destiny to rule the galaxy.”

  The captain nodded his head up and down, which, the observer had learned, was an indication of affirmation. “That may be—and I admit, I fought alongside some damn arrogant Romulans during the war—but it’s not like there’s a shortage of arrogance on our side of the Neutral Zone, either.”

  The councillor raised one of her eyebrows, an affectation common among her species. “Captain Reynolds’s point is well taken, if a bit…colorful. But it is important to note that there has not been an all-out war among any of the three major powers since the Organian Peace Treaty was signed one hundred and thirteen years ago.”

  The former official’s antennae made a peculiar motion that the observer did not know the significance of. “That isn’t for a lack of trying on anyone’s part.”

  The captain interjected a point. “I think that’s only true if you don’t count when the Klingons pulled outta Khitomer a couple years before the war, Councillor.”

  “That conflict was between the empire and the Cardassian Union,” the councillor said. “There were skirmishes between Starfleet and Defense Force ships, it’s true, but no formal conflict was declared by the council.”

  “A technicality,” the former official said.

  “Ythril’s right,” the captain said, “I was in charge of the Centaur then, and let me tell you, it sure felt like a war when those birds-of-prey hammered me to pieces.”

  Before any more could be said, the discussion leader turned to the person on the screen behind her, a journalist. “Teneso, what’s your impression of the High Council’s wishes for the summit?”

  “Well, Velisa, there are plenty of people on the High Council who would be more than happy to declare war on the entire galaxy. But Chancellor Martok and his supporters on the council know how beneficial the Federation alliance has been for the empire in the long term. Besides, it’s not like the Klingons have been starved for battle in the years since the war. I think that Martok wants to strengthen the alliance, not weaken it, which is something that may cost him a little from some of the hardliners on the council, but which will ultimately work out for him. Martok has the advantage of being incredibly popular with the people of the empire, more than any chancellor since Kravokh, and probably even more than him. He’s credited with winning the war and with continuing the work of Emperor Kahless.”

  “T’Latrek, do you think that President Bacco and Chancellor Martok will be able to work together?”

  The councillor again raised her eyebrow. “Both the president and chancellor are reasonable. This is not a description that would apply to many Klingon chancellors—nor, indeed, to many Federation presidents.”

  The discussion leader’s face changed into what the observer recognized as a smile, indicating agreement and/or pleasure. “What about the Romulans?”

  Before the councillor could respond, the former official’s antennae made that odd motion again, and she said, “They shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the summit. This is a meeting of superpowers, and that’s not something the Romulan Star Empire can call themselves since their senate was rather literally dissolved.”

  “I wouldn’t underestimate them,” the captain said.

  The former official turned toward the man next to her. “And I would not overestimate them, Captain. Nature favors the destructive process. It took that Reman all of a minute to destroy the senate, and it only took him another few days to get himself killed and ruin his own revolutionary government. That will take decades to rebuild.”

  Before the captain could say anything, the councillor said, “Your words are not false, Ythril, but just because it will not happen quickly does not mean it will not happen. Witness the Klingon Empire following Praxis.”

  “Yes, Councillor,” the former official said in a voice that the observer thought indicated annoyance, “but this summit should not be concerned with what might happen fifty years from now but what is happening now.”

  The discussion leader asked the councillor, “T’Latrek, do you think Praetor Tal’Aura should be included in the summit?”

  “There are benefits to including her—and to excluding her.”

  The former official’s antennae went wild. “How equivocal of you, T’Latrek.”

  The journalist spoke up. “I don’t think the High Council will be too pleased with the idea of Tal’Aura being there, Velisa. There’s no love lost between the Great Hall and Romulus, especially after the incident at Klorgat IV.”

  The former official once again grew agitated. “Starfleet proved conclusively that Admiral Mendak was responsible for that, and he was a rogue element.”

  “Oh come on,” the captain said, “you don’t really believe that, do you, Ythril? Mendak’s always been a loyalist. Hell, I met the man right after Brasîto. Patriotic to a fault.”

  The councillor said, “Even patriots will go against their government if they feel it necessary. Tal’Aura, remember, supported Shinzon’s coup. Mendak has always been loyal to the Romulan government, yes, but he has also consistently spoken out in favor of continued Reman oppression. It is logical to deduce that it is at least possible, if not probable, that he refused to cooperate with the government as long as Tal’Aura was praetor and his status as a criminal was genuine.”

  “I don’t buy it,” the captain said. “Mendak didn’t do anything that actually hurt Tal’Aura, and when the S.C.E. found him out on Klorgat, he conveniently commits suicide. I gotta go with Ythril here, that lady shouldn’t be anywhere near the summit.”

  “The next question is about the issues under dis—”

  Then the playback went dead. So did the observer’s reporting equipment.

  He let out a sigh. He supposed this was inevitable, since he had already gone over his allotted time to study this section of the universe several millennia ago. But they were so fascinating!

  Sighing again, he collected himself and shifted the universe so that he would be back home to file his report.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “THE COUNCIL YESTERDAY RATIFIED the motion to allow Koa into the Federation. The Koas are now based in the Mu Arae system—though that’s not
where they’re from.”

  Kav glasch Vokrak recorded Kant Jorel’s words as he sat in the holocom—in truth, his small one-person office in Vancouver—waiting for him to finish babbling so he could ask his question. He’d heard that the summit was going to happen on Grisella, and he wanted confirmation from Kant. But he was still carrying on about these potential new members. As if the Federation needs a one-hundred-and-fifty-fifth member. Was I the only one who wanted the Ontailians and the Trill to follow the Selelvians out the door? This government is too big for its own good.

  “When their sun was threatening to go nova about four years ago, they were able to make use of an ancient device to shrink their planet down and place it in a pyramid-shaped box. With some help from Starfleet, the box was brought to Mu Arae and the planet was deposited there, with the system actually rearranging itself to accommodate the new world. Talks began shortly after that, and now they’re ready to join. The date for the signing ceremony still needs to be set.” Kant looked around the holocom. “You all look sufficiently bored. It’s pathetic, you know that? They put their planet in a box. Don’t you think that’s—Oh, never mind.” He looked down at his padd. “One last thing.”

  Thank you, Kav thought toward every Tellarite deity who’d ever existed.

  “The president’s office would like to officially announce that the summit with Chancellor Martok, President Bacco, and Praetor Tal’Aura will be held on Grisella one week from today.”

  Kav blinked his sunken eyes. He answered my question. This relieved Kav, as it eliminated the need to try to get Kant’s attention, which had always been problematic under the best of circumstances, and which had gotten worse the past seven weeks or so. It was right after judiciary’s landmark decision in the B-4 case, the retirement of Admiral Ross, the passing of the new transportation bill, the birthday of three different councillors’ chief aides, and Ozla Graniv’s return to the Palais press room. Knowing Kant, any one of those could have set him off. My bet would be on the birthdays—he never likes it when people are having fun.