“They’d be long gone by then. We can track them ourselves.”
“We’d have to put the Lorillians off someplace safe first, and the Klingons would be long gone by then.”
“Dashec sounded like she’d be willing to take the risk.”
“For herself, Val. Maybe for her partner. But for her daughter?”
Williams stopped walking, her shoulders sagging. After a moment, she ran a hand through her auburn hair. “Why are we even out here if we can’t make a difference?”
“Because we’re here to explore, not to police,” he reminded her. “It was a hard truth I had to face back on Enterprise those first few years. Sometimes we came across things we couldn’t accept, but our ability to do anything about them was limited. We were just one ship, far from home, nosing about in other people’s territory.” He stroked his neat goatee, a reminder of how much he’d changed since those early years—which just drove home how much was still the same. “Sometimes we were able to stop them, but often the best we could do was help others learn to defend themselves, or call in help from someone more powerful, like the Vulcans.”
The armory officer’s hazel eyes held his. “And what if the only ones powerful enough to act refuse to do so, sir?”
Reed had no answer for the lieutenant. Unless the Rigelians could be convinced to get tougher about patrolling their own backyard, things were unlikely to get any safer in the Kandari Sector.
November 10, 2163
U.S.S. Endeavour NCC-06, entering Iota Pegasi system
“Attention, Earth vessel! You are ordered to halt your approach immediately. Any attempt to enter orbit of the asteroid or provide aid to its occupiers will be met with force!”
Captain T’Pol blinked at the incongruity of the message. While the battle cruisers forming a cordon around the large, roughly cylindrical asteroid on Endeavour’s main viewscreen were of a type that the Arkonians manufactured and marketed to several known species, they bore the distinct colors and alterations favored by the defense fleet of the United Planets of Tellar—one of United Earth’s partner nations in the United Federation of Planets. Apparently that abundance of unity had not yet reached this system.
Others on the bridge crew were similarly nonplussed. “ ‘Earth vessel’?” asked Lieutenant Elizabeth Cutler from the science station on T’Pol’s left. “Did someone miss a few years’ worth of memos?”
T’Pol turned to the station immediately to fore of Cutler’s. “Return channel,” she ordered, and Lieutenant Commander Hoshi Sato efficiently complied, nodding a mere second later. “Tellarite vessel. This is Captain T’Pol of the U.S.S. Endeavour. Our ship represents the entire Federation, yourselves included. Starfleet Command has sent us to investigate and resolve this conflict.”
A dark-haired, stout Tellarite male appeared on the viewscreen. He wore an avocado-green command tunic with three stripes on each sleeve and shoulder strap, identical to her own in design (if not in proportion) except that its left breast bore the hoof-like service patch of the Tellar Space Administration rather than the stylized arrowhead of the United Earth Space Probe Agency, and its right sleeve was adorned with the name of his ship in Braille-like Tellarite script rather than a UESPA-style circular mission patch. “Captain Brantik, in command of this fleet. Whether you represent Earth or the Federation is beside the point. This system is Tellarite space, and that makes it Tellarite jurisdiction!”
“We are not here to dispute Tellar’s claim to Iota Pegasi,” she told him. “But the settlers are human. This is an interworld matter, the very kind of dispute that falls under Federation jurisdiction.”
Tellar had claimed the binary system—which was old enough to have habitable planets but young enough that they lacked complex indigenous life—nearly two decades ago but had made only cursory efforts at developing it until recently, as prosperity resulting from Federation membership had prompted a new mining boom. Yet upon their arrival, the mining and colonization fleet had discovered that in the interim, the crew of the Earth Cargo Services freighter Voortrekker had established a colony of their own within the system’s asteroid belt, burrowing into one of its larger members and spinning it up to provide simple artificial gravity while building solar collectors, heat radiators, and other necessary machinery into its surface. The Tellarites had ordered the “squatters” to leave, but the Boomers had refused to abandon the home they had invested so much time and labor in constructing. Each side had attempted to convince the other through negotiation, legal maneuvering, and financial persuasion, but each insisted on its own prior claim. Matters had grown increasingly tense, to the point that the Tellarite government had solicited Federation aid in hopes of averting violence.
But no one seemed to have informed Captain Brantik of this. “You’d like that, I’m sure,” he said with a sneer. “Any excuse to push into our territory and throw your weight around. But this is our territory, by law and treaty, and that gives us the right to enforce our own boundaries! You have no authority to prevent us from expelling these interlopers, and if you obstruct our efforts, I promise you we will open fire!” His meaty hand struck a control, and his image was replaced by that of the well-armed fleet he commanded. Clearly, T’Pol reflected, the adoption of a standardized Starfleet uniform still represented an ideal more than an actuality.
“Captain,” Sato said, “we’re getting another hail. This one’s from within the asteroid.”
“Onscreen.”
A human female with rough-hewn features and gray-blond hair appeared. “This is Freya Stark, governor of the Voortrekker colony, to the Federation starship on approach. You’d better turn around if you know what’s good for your pig-faced friends! We warned them about calling in reinforcements.”
“Particle cannon fire from the surface!” Takashi Kimura called from tactical. “It missed the lead cordon ship by nine hundred meters. A warning shot.”
“You come closer, so does our aim.” Stark shut off her transmission.
“Brantik is hailing again,” Sato announced. At T’Pol’s nod, she opened the channel.
“You see what you’ve done?” the Tellarite captain bellowed. “You’re just stoking the flames! Turn around now!”
“Ensign, all stop,” the captain ordered Pedro Ortega at the helm station in front of her. “Hold station at this distance from the asteroid.”
“Aye, Captain,” the green-uniformed ensign replied.
Beside T’Pol, Commander Thanien ch’Revash stroked his blue-complexioned chin, his antennae curving forward with interest. “Odd,” said the seasoned Andorian officer. “Both of them think we’re here to support the other.”
“Return channel to both,” she ordered Sato, then spoke. “This is Captain T’Pol of the Endeavour. Please understand that we are not here to provide military aid to anyone. We are all Federation members here, and the Federation has mechanisms for dispute resolution between its member governments. The use of force by one Federation member against another is unacceptable and will not be tolerated—in either direction.”
Stark appeared on the screen again. “That’s where you’re wrong, Vulcan,” the human female replied. “We’re an independent colony. We never agreed to submit to your Federation’s rule. Damn it, the whole reason we chose to settle out here was to get away from your creeping federalism.”
“Your vessel operates under Earth registry, ma’am.”
“A flag of convenience.”
“Even so, it carries with it the obligation to abide by the laws of the flag state.”
“Maybe on a ship, but a colony is no ship. We will resist any attempt by the Federation to impose its will on us, and bringing in a prettier starship to do their dirty work won’t change anything. We’ll fire on anyone who tries to come down!” She shut off the feed.
Brantik appeared on the screen again. “They won’t listen to your logic, Vulcan. We’ve been dealing with them far longer than you, so leave this to us. I won’t tolerate any interference.” And his channel cl
osed once again.
“This is absurd,” Thanien said, shaking his white-haired head. “What do the Boomers imagine they can achieve? They are besieged.”
“I don’t think it’s about tactics, Commander,” Sato replied. “It’s about pride. They’re used to living independently. The Boomer lifestyle attracted people who prized self-reliance and autonomy, who wanted to get away from large civilizations or central authority. They know they’re the little guys, and they’re fighting to stay that way.”
“They’re a relic of an earlier era,” the first officer said, waving a hand in dismissal. “The frontier is giving way to a proper civilization. They’ll just have to learn to live with that.”
“So we should just let the Tellarites force them out?”
“Of course not. The Tellarites are behaving as much like renegades as they are. The Federation does have authority in this matter. The law is clear on that.”
“The laws are new, Commander,” the delicate-featured Japanese woman replied. “And most of them haven’t been tested yet. We can’t expect everyone to be an expert in how they work—or to agree on how they should work.”
“Then we should transmit the relevant codes to both sides for their review.”
“Both these groups clearly take a lot of pride in doing things their own way.”
“All our worlds have had to make concessions,” Thanien replied, restrained impatience in his tone. “Our duty is to remind them of that.”
“At gunpoint? You saw how close they are to the edge.”
“If I may, Commander,” Kimura said to Thanien, “if we push them in the state they’re in now, a violent response is inevitable. Nothing Endeavour couldn’t handle, but both of them would be sure to suffer casualties.”
“Commander Sato,” T’Pol asked, “are you proposing an alternative?”
The communications officer took a moment to gather her thoughts. “The one thing they do agree on is that we’re outsiders, that we have no claim here. Maybe we should use that. Present ourselves as a neutral third party that can mediate between them.”
Thanien frowned. “But that would be endorsing their denial of Federation law.”
“I’d prefer to say it’s . . . choosing not to argue with it for now. The important thing is to get them to the table.” She turned to T’Pol. “Captain, this is the only common ground they have. It’s all we have to work with.”
T’Pol judged it a well-reasoned point. But outwardly she merely nodded in acknowledgment, then turned to Thanien. “Commander?”
Grudgingly, the Andorian replied, “Granted, in the short term it could avert violence. But I’m concerned by the precedent it sets. There are enough fringe groups already trying to rebel against the Federation or dismantle it. The separatists on Alrond, the Anti-revisionists on Vulcan, the Centauri First movement—I’m worried enough about their popular support, especially with an election coming next year. And these groups seem like more of the same. I think it’s more important in the long term to make a strong stand here.”
“With respect, Commander,” Sato said, “a crackdown would just provoke more resistance from groups like that. We’d be playing right into their rhetoric that we’re an authoritarian state.”
After a moment’s contemplation, T’Pol said, “Commander Sato is correct. Our immediate priority is to avert bloodshed. We cannot let indefinite future ramifications impede us from fulfilling that duty. And portraying ourselves as a disinterested third party may be our best option in this case.”
She could tell Thanien was displeased, but he acceded to her decision. “It will be a challenge to convince them to accept our neutrality,” he said.
“This crew has surmounted greater challenges,” T’Pol replied. She turned to Sato. “Commander—open a channel to both sides. Let us begin.”
November 14, 2163
Starfleet Headquarters, San Francisco
“Both parties have agreed to Commander Sato’s proposed resolution, Admiral,” T’Pol reported over the monitor on Admiral Jonathan Archer’s desk. “The United Planets of Tellar will cede its claim to the Voortrekker asteroid, and said asteroid will be relocated to the neighboring Ross 271 system.”
Archer smiled at his former first officer. “That’s good news, T’Pol. I never thought the Voortrekkers would go for it. It feels . . . like a retreat.”
“To planetary inhabitants like ourselves, it would,” T’Pol replied. “Hoshi’s insight was in recognizing that Boomers are accustomed to taking their homes with them. All they wanted was to keep the asteroid; where that asteroid is located is secondary. Ross 271 is close enough to the Tellarite-Denobulan trade routes to suit their needs nearly as well as Iota Pegasi.”
Archer shook his head. “Still—moving an asteroid that size across interstellar space won’t be easy.”
“Lieutenant Cutler has calculated that the asteroid can be accelerated to a maximum of twenty-seven percent of lightspeed before ablation from interstellar dust would become a serious hazard. Allowing for acceleration and deceleration, they should be able to reach the red dwarf within twenty years.”
He whistled. “Twenty years. That’s a long haul even for Boomers.”
“Indeed. It should be interesting to observe how their culture develops over time. It is possible that the generation that comes to maturity once they reach their destination will be so accustomed to living in space that they see no need to remain in orbit of a star.”
“Who knows? They wouldn’t be the first Boomers to wander clear out of known space.” He smiled. “I have a feeling that future explorers are going to find some unexpected human offshoots out there.”
“Perhaps.”
“So what about the Tellarites?” Archer went on. “They sounded pretty unwilling to give up that asteroid’s mineral wealth.”
“There are numerous other asteroids in the system, so the material loss is small. I believe their resistance was driven more by pride. Their perception that they have now convinced their rivals to retreat should be enough to let them save face.”
The admiral nodded. “I know how important it is to Tellarites to appear strong.”
But he frowned as he followed that thought further. “Still,” he went on, “Commander Thanien had a point. We can’t solve every internal problem by backing down and letting every faction assert its autonomy. There are already too many groups that would just as soon dissolve the Federation or secede from it. Not to mention how many alien powers would be glad to help them.” He recalled the recent attempt by the Orion Syndicate and the Malurians to manipulate the Federation into a military conflict, apparently hoping to provoke the increasingly pacifistic Vulcans into withdrawing from the still-tenuous union. The Orion agents who had been manipulating Federation officials had been flushed out (though actionable proof of the Syndicate’s involvement remained elusive), but Archer had his suspicions that some Malurian moles may have gone undiscovered; after all, they were masters of disguise and infiltration.
Granted, it was likely that the separatist and isolationist factions on the Federation’s member worlds were simply the kind of opposition parties that would naturally arise in any free, pluralistic society, and that their increasing size and passion was merely a backlash to the growing unity of the Federation, one that would pass once their predictions of dictatorship and dystopia failed to materialize. But even if they weren’t being manipulated from without, giving the separatists too much rein could undermine the Federation’s tenuous stability. “Sooner or later,” he went on, “people are going to have to get used to the idea that Federation law applies to them.”
“I do not discount the commander’s concerns, Admiral,” T’Pol replied. “But I tend to agree with Hoshi that we can win hearts and minds better through reason and benevolence than through intimidation.”
Archer noted the difference in the way she referred to the two officers. “I hope you’re right, T’Pol. But it’s . . . logical . . . to consider other points of view too.” H
e smiled. “I haven’t always gotten along with my first officers, but I’ve learned how valuable it can be to listen to one who disagrees with me.”
T’Pol held his gaze for a long moment. “I see. I will take that under advisement, Admiral.”
Once she signed off, Archer asked his aide, Captain Williams, to contact the Tellarite councilor so he could pass along the good news. That was one fire put out—which meant he had that much more attention to spare for the others that were currently smoldering.
2164
1
February 12, 2164
Verex III, Orion-Klingon Borderland
“. . . SO WE CAN ALL SEE the benefits to such an alliance,” intoned the burly Orion at the head of the meeting table, his gaze taking in each of his two guests in turn. “Working alone, the Vulcans were powerful enough to drive both of your organizations into retreat. Now they are part of a larger, even stronger Federation whose Starfleet patrols increasingly interfere with your efforts to stay in business. What better revenge,” the green-skinned man went on in a polished baritone, “than to form a partnership of our own to stand against them?”
“The benefits of allying with your . . . employers are self-evident, Harrad-Sar,” replied the Mazarite representative, Eldi Zankor. But then she sneered, the expression subtly stretching the scalloped flaps of skin that extended from her cheekbones to her ears. “But what can Jofirek here provide us? The Vulcans drove his syndicate from Agaron while I was still learning to walk, and he’s been struggling for relevance ever since!” Despite the white hair of her temples and eyebrows, a typical trait of her species, Zankor was in the prime of her life, her ambition and ruthlessness—and the government purge of her predecessors some years before—allowing her to rise to the head of Mazar’s crime syndicate at a precocious age.
The same could not be said for the wizened, silver-maned Agaron who sat across from her, the characteristic vertical ridge that bisected his people’s foreheads almost lost amid a sea of wrinkles. “How dare you!” he wheezed. “My smuggling and narcotics connections span two sectors!”
Star Trek: Enterprise - 016 - Rise of the Federation: Tower of Babel Page 2