The thought made him embarrassed about his sense of rivalry with Hoshi Sato. Making the interspecies relationship work had been difficult, sometimes turbulent, but that was no excuse to fall into bickering. The last thing Thanien wanted was to be anything like the Lechebists and their ilk.
I’m being a fool, he decided. There was no need to confront Sato about his concerns; he would simply set them aside and do his duty. This, he resolved, would be the end of it.
“They’re simply trying to cope with the rapidly changing world they live in,” Phlox was saying. “So much has happened so quickly these past few years . . . it’s natural that there’d be some turbulence as a result. It’s certainly livelier than Denobulan politics, and I’m finding it endlessly entertaining. I’m fascinated to see how it will play out.” He grinned. “Especially if Admiral Archer succeeds in getting Rigel to join before the election. That will certainly put the Pyrithian moon hawk among the bats,” he finished with a dramatic chuckle.
“I can understand their reticence,” Thanien said, “given the unfriendly reception they’re getting from those like Thoris. It must be unclear what we have to offer the Rigelians at this point. We’re not exactly putting our best face forward at the moment.”
“But that’s exactly what we are doing,” Phlox replied, still grinning. “For when it comes to diplomacy, the Federation’s best face is the one on the front of Jonathan Archer’s head.”
March 26, 2164
Tregon, Beta Rigel V
“You must understand our confusion, Admiral Archer, Commissioner Soval. Why should we accept your current president’s offer to join your Federation when your next president doesn’t even want us?”
“Let me clarify that, Director,” said Jonathan Archer. He strove for patience in his reply to Director Jemer Zehron, the Jelna member of the Rigelian Trade Commission’s governing board, whose four members sat across from the Federation delegation in the ornate council hall within the Commission’s Tregon headquarters. Along one wall was a large picture window looking out on the coastline of Rigel V’s most prosperous city, beyond which was the flotilla of icebergs that the currents drove through the Tregon Sea at this time of year. Rigel V was near the outer edge of Tau-3 Eridani’s habitable zone, making it prone to long winters and chilly springs and autumns.
“Councilor Thoris is just one of the candidates for president,” Archer went on, aware that he was addressing a live viewing audience across the Rigel system as well as the board members in this chamber. “We have a democratic process much like those found on your own member worlds.”
Soval, the Federation Commissioner for Foreign Affairs, leaned forward in his seat on Archer’s right. “By the same token,” the silver-haired Vulcan added, “whoever is elected president will not be able to dictate policy unilaterally. He or she will govern in partnership with the Federation Council—a council on which the Rigel system will gain representation should you agree to join.”
“You say the system,” intoned Sajithen, the Chelon director representing her homeworld Rigel III. At least, Archer thought “her” was the correct word; Phlox insisted the Chelons were hermaphroditic, but all of the ones Archer had met presented themselves as either male or female. Regardless, Archer couldn’t tell them apart; like all her kind, Sajithen was massive and broad-bodied with a thick, leathery green hide, a beaked face that evoked a tortoise and an eagle about equally, and clawed flippers that were more dexterous than they looked. While the more humanoid representatives sat in fairly normal chairs, the less flexible Chelon leaned forward on a glenget, a cushioned frame on which she rested her knees and abdomen. “Do you imply that the Rigel worlds warrant only one seat on your council?”
“My intent,” Soval told her smoothly, “was simply to reflect the fact that the number of seats Rigel would gain is a matter for future, more formal negotiations, in the event that you choose to pursue membership.”
Boda Jahlet, the Trade Commission ambassador who moderated this meeting, shifted her weight, rattling the elaborate wooden beads draped over her shoulders and chest. “This would be the ambassadorial conference you spoke of, on the planetoid designated Babel?” the sallow-skinned, craggy-faced Jelna exofemale asked.
“Correct,” said Soval. “A neutral ground where representatives from both sides can conduct final debates and negotiations and then vote on the question of admission.”
“Yes, yes, but that is the question,” Zehron interposed. The director—representing the colonies on Rigel II and the inner asteroids, despite belonging to the native species of Rigel V—was of the Jelna’s endomale sex, differentiated from an “exo” like Jahlet by paler skin, softer facial features, and red eyes. According to Phlox’s merry lectures about Rigellian sexuality, the exomale and exofemale sexes—distinguished by an extra Z chromosome and outnumbering the “endosexes,” the more typical males and females, by better than two to one—were the more robust and aggressive ones from an evolutionary-behavioral standpoint, adapted to handle the hunting and gathering while the endosexes stayed in camp to nurture and defend the young.
But you’d never know it from listening to Zehron; the supposedly gentler endomale had been closed-minded and confrontational from the start. “What are the chances of our admission when so many voices in the Federation protest the very idea?” he hectored. “We have had our own interstellar community for longer than you humans have known how to split an atom. Why should we seek entry into your upstart organization when we are not even welcome there?”
“Many people in the Federation do want you to join,” Archer said. “The Federation is built on interstellar partnership and plurality. If the majority of voters on our founding worlds agreed that it was a good idea to partner with each other for the greater good . . . well, then they recognize the value of partnership with other worlds, too.” The admiral chose his words circumspectly, not wanting to overreach with his promises. “Yes, there are some who feel differently. But like Rigel itself, the Federation is dedicated to freedom of belief and expression. Those voices of protest are there because we respect their right to be heard.”
“Noble words, Admiral.” This time the speaker was Director Nop Tenott, a male Xarantine who represented the Rigel Colonies, as the various alien communities that had settled in the Rigel system over the past two centuries, mostly on the moons of Rigel V and VI, were known. He tilted his high-crowned, hairless yellow head, a skeptical expression on his noseless face. “But if you have such a commitment to plurality of thought, why do you insist that we compromise our traditions of cultural freedom and tolerance by adopting the Federation’s uniform strictures on commerce and business?”
Archer tried not to read an ulterior motive into the director’s words. He’d had a bad experience with a Xarantine emissary during the Vertian crisis last year, but he reminded himself that, whatever his species, Tenott was a Rigelian by birth and citizenship. Then again, that was hardly a guarantee of ethical business practices, which was the root of the problem.
Soval replied before Archer could. “The policy changes necessary for Federation membership would only be in certain areas. The outlawing of slave trading, the halting of piracy, the restriction of business practices that would endanger sentient lives or planetary ecologies, the guarantee of basic rights for all workers, and so forth.”
The final director, Sedra Hemnask of Rigel V, now spoke. “I appreciate the principle,” said Hemnask, a relatively young female belonging to the Zami species, with long, wavy cinnamon-brown hair and a fair complexion. She was humanlike enough that Archer found her very attractive, and the subtle points of her ears did nothing to detract from that. “Certainly there is good reason to wish for the effective control of unethical practices and threats to life and limb. The First Families and their ongoing depredations are a continual thorn in the Commission’s side.” Hemnask spoke with restrained passion, and Archer wondered if, despite her birth and upbringing within Rigel V’s large Zami community, her genetic kinship with
the natives of Rigel IV inclined her to take the piratical behavior of its ruling families personally.
“But our peoples have learned over the centuries that there can be danger in taking such intervention too far,” Hemnask continued. “Well-intentioned meddling in other cultures can become heavy-handed and invasive, a threat to their rights and independence.”
“Absolutely,” Sajithen declared in her gravelly Chelon tones, punctuating it with a series of sharp clicks from her rigid beak. “Four centuries ago, the Jelna’s overzealous attempts to ‘modernize’ my ancestors led to a rebellion that flamed for generations, until we finally forced the Commission to give us equal representation.”
Zehron yawned. “And listening to you, one would think the rebellion was still going on.”
“My people have long memories, Director. And that was not the final time we were exploited by outsiders. We consider it prudent to remain alert to the risk.”
“Believe me, Directors,” Archer said to Sajithen and Hemnask, “I understand your position on this matter. For centuries, the Vulcans have practiced a similar philosophy toward contact with other races. It helps guide my own beliefs about the Federation’s responsibilities in interspecies contact.” Soval gave him an appreciative nod—though not without a trace of irony, given all the times through the years when he had found Archer’s embrace of the non-interference policy to be insufficiently rigorous.
“But we believe that’s for dealing with those outside your own community. Don’t get me wrong—we value the diversity of customs and beliefs among our own members. But there are some principles that need to be agreed on by every member of a society for it to function. Some basic standards of ethics and individual rights. Like laws against murder and slavery, violent assault and theft. Laws that protect people’s fundamental right to exist and to live free from violence, coercion, or oppression.”
“So how do you preserve such freedom,” Zehron countered, “if the state itself coerces the people to follow its rules?”
“Rather,” Soval replied, “the people mutually consent to abide by those rules for their own collective benefit. They ensure their own safety and liberty by agreeing to respect others’ safety and liberty—even when that requires making compromises. Absolute, unfettered freedom is only possible for one who lives absolutely alone. When one is part of a community, one must balance one’s own freedoms and rights with those of others. There are constraints on freedom, but only to the extent that different individuals’ freedoms come into conflict. It is the responsibility of the state to moderate those conflicts equitably.”
“Or, as a famous human jurist once said, ‘The right to swing my fist ends where the other man’s nose begins,’ ” Archer added.
“And what about the rights of businesspeople,” Tenott asked, “to conduct their business in the most profitable manner, without the government dictating limits?”
“Where’s the profit if there’s nobody to protect them from being attacked, robbed, or enslaved themselves?” Archer countered. “It’s not just the Federation government that wants this. Many of your own trading partners have been asking for more protection from Orion and Klingon and Nausicaan raiders. They want guarantees that their merchants and freighter crews will be safe when they pass through Rigelian space.”
Archer looked around at the board members. “There can’t be true freedom for anybody . . . unless they have freedom from fear. Unless they know their right to live, to choose, to love, and to hold on to their possessions won’t be taken from them by force, whether by a government or by other people. In any free system, there have to be some basic standards of behavior that everyone agrees to abide by, some basic protection for their lives and their rights—and they have to agree to empower somebody with the authority to enforce those standards if anyone violates that social contract. It’s not enough just to trust the marketplace to balance everything out. You can see that isn’t working.”
“Don’t presume to lecture us on how well our system works, Admiral,” Zehron sneered. “We have our own mechanisms for ensuring fair trade and preserving the security of Rigel as a whole. It’s a system that’s served the Rigelian peoples well for centuries, since even before first contact.”
“But the Rigelian peoples had centuries to work within those principles and find a healthy balance in their application,” Soval replied. “While those who immigrated here,” he went on, nodding to Tenott, “did so because they found your system agreeable and chose to live within it. It is in the best interest of all the permanent inhabitants of Rigel to make the system work in a way that does not disrupt the social order.”
“Although,” Director Hemnask muttered with displeasure, “the First Families have not been constrained by that logic.”
“That is true. Nor are they alone in that regard. As the Rigelian trading community expands farther into the galaxy, there will be more who choose to abuse the license you grant them—who will not see the benefit of restraining themselves for the good of the greater market and will simply exploit the lack of law enforcement and worker protections to serve their own selfish interests.”
Zehron tilted his head back. “So you’re telling us to be afraid of outside impositions from others so that we’ll accept outside imposition from you. How would we be any less exploited by the Federation?”
“Because you’d be members of it,” Archer stressed, “participants in the decision-making process just as each of your worlds is a participant in the Rigelian community.”
“So why should we join you,” Tenott asked, “instead of you joining us? Why should we, the older community, take second place?”
“It is not a question of first or second,” Soval told him. “While your community is quite cosmopolitan, it is based primarily in one star system. You trade and travel widely, but your own system provides such abundance of worlds and resources that you have never needed to colonize others. The Federation, by contrast, is already an interstellar power encompassing multiple systems—a partnership of several nations like your own.”
“There’s another reason,” Archer said. “At the risk of blowing my own horn, that reason is Starfleet. Starfleet’s strength is why Rigel and a number of its trading partners turned to the Federation for help with the Vertian crisis last year. And Starfleet’s skills in science and diplomacy were key to ending that crisis peacefully. If you joined the Federation, you’d know that Starfleet would always be there for you when you needed it.”
“But the Vertian threat is over,” Zehron countered.
“We have reason to suspect that threat was engineered by the Orion Syndicate, in partnership with the Malurians’ leading criminal organization, to undermine the Federation. We foiled that effort, but there are signs that they’re trying to recruit more allies, to build an alliance of their own. A criminal empire like that could threaten all of us.”
Soval’s gaze took in the directors. “The Federation was not founded until after the Earth-Romulan War ended. Yet the reason it formed so swiftly thereafter is that its members belatedly realized their mistake in not uniting earlier. Had they joined against the Romulans from the start, it would have been easier to end that common threat with far less loss of life. It is wiser to anticipate problems than merely to react.”
Archer’s gaze took in the directors. “We’re not trying to pressure or scare you into joining. I firmly believe there are far more constructive reasons for our worlds to unite, and I believe we’ve spelled out those reasons today. But if we stand together, we will all be stronger for it—and safer when threats do arise.”
As the bright blue-white disk of Raij sank below the icebergs, Ambassador Jahlet suggested an adjournment for the evening. “You have offered us much to consider, Commissioner, Admiral. Now the board must deliberate on these matters and discuss them with the larger Commission.”
Archer could hear the subtext. Once he and Soval had made their polite farewells and been escorted out, the admiral turned to the commissio
ner and spoke with resignation. “We’re not gonna get an answer this trip, are we?”
“Perhaps not,” Soval said. “But I sense we have gained more ground than in previous discussions over subspace. I believe you made our case well, Admiral.”
“Thank you, Soval.” There was a touch of irony in Archer’s smile as he recalled how hard he’d had to work to earn the Vulcan’s trust and respect . . . and how little he’d wanted it in the first few years of their acquaintance. He took heart in the thought. If the two of them had gone from bitter rivals to partners within the space of a few years, then there was hope for winning Rigel over after all.
He just hoped that would happen before the Orion situation escalated out of hand.
3
From: Jeremy Lucas, Interspecies Medical Exchange relief mission, Narpra, Sauria
To: Phlox, Chief Medical Officer, U.S.S. Endeavour
Draft saved: April 26, 2164, 16:43
Dear Doctor Phlox:
Sorry I haven’t responded to your last letter before now. The situation on Sauria has grown even more dire since the IME was first invited in. Here in Narpra, the country where the illness was first reported, the rate of incidence had reached the level of an epidemic by the time our team arrived. We’ve had our hands full just trying to keep the Saurians alive, let alone determine the etiology or transmission vectors of the condition. So far, the mortality rate is only around fourteen percent of affected individuals, but for the Saurians, who have little experience with diseases this severe, even that rate is seen as shocking.
Unfortunately, that shock and fear have made it difficult for my people to do their jobs. Given the timing of the outbreak, many Saurians are convinced that exposure to offworlders is the cause of the disease. Naturally that was one of the first possibilities we examined, but we could find no solid evidence to support it. The infectious agent doesn’t correspond to any known Saurian pathogen, but there are no proteins identifiable with the biochemistry of any alien race currently on Sauria. And the only correlation we’ve found between morbidity and exposure to extra-Saurian organisms is in public places, where both Saurians and outsiders would congregate anyway, and where any number of other factors could be in play. There’s no sign of correlation among Saurians who’ve interacted with offworlders in more private venues. But the public nature of so many patients’ interactions with offworlders just reinforces the Narprans’ fears and makes cooperation difficult.
Star Trek: Enterprise - 016 - Rise of the Federation: Tower of Babel Page 6