Articles of the Federation

by Keith R. A. DeCandido

  Krim, however, was an even bigger risk. He’d been a last-minute replacement as Bajor’s first councillor when the original choice had died unexpectedly, almost three and a half years ago.

  Edmund made a bet with himself that he quickly won as the light in front of Bera chim Gleer’s seat went on, indicating that he wished to speak on the floor. May as well get comfortable, he thought, Gleer doesn’t do short speeches.

  Was it Edmund’s imagination, or did Bacco sound pained when she said, “The podium recognizes the councillor from Tellar”?

  The Tellarite councillor stalked down the length of his row and stomped toward the center of the chamber. With his furry hands, he clutched the lapels of the silvery jacket he wore over an embroidered shirt. His pants matched the jacket, making it look like he was glowing. He stared at Bacco with his sunken eyes—which put his back to Edmund—and began to speak.

  “With all due respect, Madam President—are you mad? Bajor has only been in the Federation for three years. To put them on the security council is the height of irresponsibility. In addition, I point you to Councillor Krim’s record. He was a rebel on Bajor, then supported a coup d’état that was disgraced. He has spent most of the last decade out of the public eye and had not participated in the least in the realm of politics until he was placed on this council by his wife, the first minister of Bajor. Is it wise to trust the delicate matters handled on the security council to such a person?”

  T’Latrek’s light went on, and Edmund thought he was going to burst with excitement. I was hoping she would get into it.

  Sounding much more cheered—the president knew the entertainment value of a good floor fight, after all—Bacco said, “The podium recognizes the councillor from Vulcan.”

  The Vulcan woman glided out from her seat and joined Gleer. Her own arms were not visible in her long, black cloak of office. Her gray-flecked black hair extended past her shoulders and was swept back in a simple, practical style that required no grooming beyond running a brush through it. T’Latrek’s eyebrows were severe, her eyes pitiless, her mouth a perfect line perpendicular to a nose that would have been called aristocratic on a human. She fixed those pitiless eyes on Gleer.

  “Anyone who lived as an adult on Bajor prior to their liberation from Cardassia twelve years ago and who is in any way politically astute probably was part of their resistance movement. Either that or they collaborated with the Cardassians, and I assume my colleague would not want such a person to serve on the security council—or on the council at all.”

  “That goes without saying. I would never support such a person and would be against his being placed on the council.”

  “For something that goes without saying, you do feel the need to describe it at length,” T’Latrek said witheringly.

  Score one for the Vulcan, Edmund thought as he made more notes. Gleer looked like someone had urinated in his soup.

  “In addition,” T’Latrek said, “First Minister Asarem is not Councillor Krim’s wife, but rather his ex-wife.”

  “An irrelevant distinction,” Gleer said dismissively.

  “To Tellarites, perhaps.” Before Gleer could respond to that, T’Latrek said, “However, the reasons why we should ratify Councillor Krim’s appointment to the security council have very little to do with Councillor Krim.”

  “They have everything to do with him!”

  T’Latrek continued as if Gleer hadn’t interrupted. “They have to do with the planet he represents. In the past decade, Bajor has been a very important planet in quadrant politics. It houses the gateway to the Gamma Quadrant. It was the staging ground for the Dominion War. And it is the Federation planet that is closest to Cardassian territory. Its proximity to the wormhole, to Cardassia, to Tzenketh, and to the Badlands makes its strategic value as great as that of any world in the Federation.”

  “I do not deny that,” Gleer said irritably. “Bajor’s importance is obvious even to the meanest intelligence.”

  Edmund half expected a comment about Gleer’s own cranial capacity at that, but T’Latrek wasn’t going for cheap shots today, apparently.

  “It is for that reason that Bajor’s presence on the security council is a necessity. We cannot expect Bajor to accept its role in the security of the Federation without giving it a concomitant voice in that security. To do otherwise would weaken their position at a time when their strength is of paramount importance to the Federation.”

  Gleer huffed. “I believe that what is of paramount importance to the Federation is not having someone on its security council who opposes the very notion of Bajoran membership in the Federation.” He turned to look at Krim, seated on the end of the fourth row closest to the president, then he looked at T’Latrek. “Do you deny that that is so?”

  While T’Latrek and Gleer spoke, Edmund looked out over the council. After all these years covering the Palais, he had gotten fairly good at interpreting the body language of the different species that were represented on the council. Matthew Mazibuko of Earth was inscrutable as ever, though he did seem to shift uncomfortably when Gleer spoke. Lari Beltane of light-gravity Gemworld, in her specially modified chair, gripped the arms of that chair more tightly when T’Latrek spoke, indicating that she was on Gleer’s side of the debate. Gnalish councillor Gorus Gelemingar’s tail waved back and forth impatiently during the entire talk, so Edmund assumed he didn’t care all that much. Linzner, the new councillor from Benzar, blinked a great deal when T’Latrek spoke, and leaned into her breathing apparatus when Gleer spoke, so she was probably on the Vulcan’s side. C29 Green of Nasat was having an animated conversation with someone on his comm unit, and he was not the only one who was tuning out this latest in a series of debates between these two.

  Then, as Gleer looked at Krim, Edmund did likewise. To the reporter’s amusement, Krim was smiling.

  In response to Gleer’s question, T’Latrek raised an eyebrow. “It would be the height of folly to deny that which is on the public record. However, my colleague neglects to mention that the Circle Commission, which studied the coup d’état in question, exonerated Councillor Krim of any wrongdoing.”

  Gleer snorted, a most unpleasant noise. “That was simply politics.”

  “There was no political gain to be had by exonerating Councillor Krim,” T’Latrek said in a withering voice. “He was, at the time, out of the sociopolitical arena completely, nor did he use his exoneration as an excuse to reenter that realm.”

  Before Gleer could respond, Krim started laughing. Then, belatedly, he activated the light in front of him. The law did not specify an upper limit to the number of people who could hold the floor, but few presidents had ever allowed the number to exceed three. At that point discussions generally devolved into shouting matches.

  Bacco did not look pleased at the laugh, but at the light, she nodded and said, “The podium recognizes the councillor from Bajor.”

  Krim had one of those faces that looked like it had seen everything the galaxy had to offer and wasn’t especially happy about it. As soon as he reached the floor, T’Latrek inclined her head and said, “I yield the floor.” She returned to her seat.

  Gleer, naturally, stood his ground.

  “You wished, Councillor Gleer,” Krim said in a voice tinged with amusement, but also with a weariness that Edmund hadn’t been expecting, “to question me regarding my position on Bajor’s membership in the Federation. Frankly, sir, I do not see how it is germane to this discussion. Whether or not I approve of Bajor’s being in the Federation does not matter, because Bajor is in the Federation. What’s more, even if I were still against it, it would continue not to matter, because my function here is not to represent the Federation to Bajor—but rather to represent Bajor to the Federation. I am a patriot, sir. I always have been. It is why I fought the Cardassians. It is also why I accepted the post as head of the Bajoran Militia after the Cardassians withdrew. I was responsible for Bajor’s security at a time when it was at its most insecure. And now I stand before
you as the representative of a world that has played quite an important role in galactic politics while having comparatively little voice in those selfsame politics. We joined the Federation in part to change that.”

  “Yet you opposed the notion.” Edmund wondered if Gleer would keep hammering that point into the ground.

  “Yes, I did. But the time for that opposition has passed. When this council votes on bills and motions and such, do the councillors who voted against it refuse to participate in their implementation? Of course not.” He turned his back on Gleer, which caused the Tellarite to huff. “Councillor T’Latrek has ably described the importance of the Bajoran sector to the security of the Federation. I know the Bajoran sector better than anyone else in this room. I do not believe there is anyone else who is not already on the security council who is better qualified to replace Councillor Artrin.”

  “Bah. Perhaps you are qualified to judge the security of the Bajoran sector, but that is but a few star systems—a tiny percentage of the amount of space that falls under the purview of the Federation and its allies. Do you truly claim to be able to handle the duties of forming policy on areas of space about which you know nothing?” Before Krim could respond, Gleer looked to Bacco. “I hereby propose that the vote be postponed so that there can be more consideration and debate.” Gleer then looked right at Beltane.

  Beltane suddenly became very preoccupied with her workstation.

  Edmund smiled as Gleer looked at several councillors, including Jix, Djinian, Enaren, and Tomorok, no doubt hoping that one of them would second the proposition, which was the only way for it to be considered.

  No one spoke up.

  Again Krim smiled, then he spoke to the podium with far more respect than his colleague. “Madam President, I hereby propose that the vote be taken at the end of this session.”

  T’Latrek quickly seconded the motion.

  Well, that’s over, Edmund thought. T’Latrek’s support meant a great deal in this room, and Krim speaking for himself so eloquently—and making Gleer look like an even bigger fool—won the day. Edmund seriously doubted that there would be more than token opposition to Krim’s appointment. Bacco had won too many people over with her apology for them to start stonewalling appointments again.

  However, Gleer was not a councillor to be trifled with. Edmund suspected that those councillors he’d turned to to second his proposition would find themselves regretting not having done so down the line.

  Chapter Twelve

  ESPERANZA PIÑIERO looked up at Bridge over a Pool of Water Lilies in the vain hope that its tranquil setting would ease her worry.

  At that, it failed, which made her wonder why they bothered to hang the damn thing in this meeting room.

  That, she knew, wasn’t fair. It had been the Monet Room before it had become the war room for the Zife administration, and at this point that function was too entrenched in the Palais structure for it to be changed.

  Also present were Raisa Shostakova, Safranski, Jas Abrik, Roshenz Huaig, Holly Hostetler Richman, William Ross, and Leonard Akaar. They were waiting for a comm line to get through to the Federation embassy on Qo’noS. Nan Bacco was in a security council session, the first since Krim Aldos had been ratified by a ninety-seven to thirty-five vote three days earlier. They were going over various bits of business and also standing by for Esperanza’s call in case the security council would need to deal with the situation.

  Finally, the screen lit up with the faces of Alexander Rozhenko and Spock. As soon as Esperanza saw the expression on the former’s face—Spock was too stoic to give anything away—she knew it wasn’t good news.

  “Ambassadors, this is Esperanza Piñiero—the council’s in session, so the president is busy. What’s the good word?” She was trying to sound optimistic, but she wondered if the attempt sounded as pathetic to everyone else in the room as it did to her.

  “I wish we had a good word to give you, Ms. Piñiero.”

  Spock added, “In fact, there is some good news. The High Council agreed with our notion of providing the Remans with their own homeworld. The worlds that I suggested in the Kavrot Sector were all deemed acceptable, and the council has chosen Klorgat IV.”

  “I assume the bad news relates to Outpost 22.”

  “Indeed,” Spock said. “The empire’s acceptance of the relocation of the Remans is contingent upon our delivering all twenty-nine Remans aboard the Vkruk to the Ditagh when it arrives tomorrow.”

  “They won’t budge on that?”

  “Not a chance,” Rozhenko said. “The High Council doesn’t care about the internal politics of the Remans—their mandate’s to protect all of them.”

  “What about the Khito—”

  “I know what you’re gonna say, Ms. Piñiero, but—” Rozhenko hesitated. “Councillor Kopek summed up the High Council’s feelings on the subject when he said that so literal-minded an interpretation of Paragraph 27 of the Khitomer Accords is, and I quote, ‘cowardly.’ ”

  Abrik barked a laugh. “Klingons sure do know how to cut us to the quick.”

  Spock said, “Their resolve is absolute. They have no intention of negotiating.”

  “Mr. Ambassador,” Ross said, “I can’t believe that the Klingons are being this stubborn on so minor an issue. Are you sure there’s no room for negotiation? Some concession we can give them in exchange for allowing us to grant the refugees asylum?”

  “I proposed that very notion, Admiral, and it was rejected without reason.”

  Rozhenko then said, “I think I can take a guess why, though.”

  “Really?” Abrik asked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

  Esperanza shot the retired admiral a look, then said to Rozhenko, “What’s your theory, Mr. Ambassador?”

  “Being protectors of the Remans is something the Klingons take seriously for one reason: It gets the Romulans really mad.”

  Involuntarily, Esperanza laughed. So did Shostakova, Hostetler Richman, and Ross. “Great, so the Klingons are getting their jollies. Where does that leave us?”

  Shostakova recovered from her brief fit of laughter at Rozhenko’s bluntness. “With two options: turn over the refugees or abrogate the treaty. I do not believe that it is necessary to explain the consequences of the latter.”

  “Those are not our only options,” Akaar said. “They are merely the most obvious.”

  Giving the Capellan a withering look, the secretary of defense said, “They are our only options under the law, Admiral.”

  Ross regarded Esperanza with a serious expression. “What do you think, Esperanza?”

  “I think that precisely nobody in this room is qualified to make any of these decisions.” She touched the intercom on the table in front of her. “Put me through to the clerk’s office.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the Starfleet ensign who handled communications on this floor said.

  Moments later, a voice said, “This is Selk.”

  “Bgdronik, it’s Esperanza—can you tell whoever’s clerking on the first floor today that the chief of staff requests that the president declare the current session sealed if it isn’t already, and that we need to tie the Monet Room into the council chambers as soon as that sealing takes place.”

  “Of course.”

  “While we’re at it,” Esperanza said to Roshenz, “let’s get Commander Bowles in on this. She’s at the heart of the situation, and she’ll be able to take the Remans’ temperature.”

  Within a few minutes, the screen on the wall opposite the Monet painting was divided into three segments. On top, across the breadth of the screen, was the council chamber on the first floor. President Bacco was standing, facing the screen with her back to her podium. Behind her were the thirteen members of the security council, including Krim Aldos, the newest member, all in seats close to the front. On the bottom of the screen were two separate, smaller images, one of Spock and Rozhenko, the other of a human woman in a Starfleet uniform with a red collar holding three pips. Esperanza assumed the la
tter was Commander Heidi Bowles of Outpost 22.

  Esperanza quickly brought everyone up to speed.

  The president spoke first. “So nice to see Ambassador K’mtok took me seriously. I told him we wouldn’t look kindly on them being hardliners, that we wanted them to participate in the process of figuring this thing out.”

  Spock said, “The High Council was resolute in their decision, Madam President.”

  Then Rozhenko asked, “Ma’am, how did you phrase it to the ambassador?”

  Frowning, the president said, “I told him that if they were gonna stick to their guns and insist on the most rigid stance without any negotiating, then I’d be inclined to go for an interpretation of Khitomer that served the Klingons poorly.”

  Rozhenko sighed. “That isn’t how K’mtok expressed it to the High Council. Ma’am, it’s my opinion that the hardliners on the council are pushing for a more hawkish stance.”

  “That figures,” Safranski said. “K’mtok was appointed as a message to President Zife after Tezwa. He has loyalties to Councillor Kopek, who’s been the biggest thorn in Chancellor Martok’s side over the last few years.”

  T’Latrek spoke up from behind the president. “That is consistent with reports from both Ambassadors Worf and Rozhenko regarding the High Council.”

  “There’s more,” Rozhenko said. “Based on the reports from General Khegh, there’s no basis to Jianuk’s claims—that Shinzon’s inner circle are revered among Remans, not reviled.” He hesitated. “I also think I know why they’re being so stubborn.”

  The president chuckled. “This oughtta be good. Go ahead, Mr. Ambassador.”

  “I think—and Ambassador Spock agrees with me—that the Klingons like the relocation idea because it means that it’ll be easier to protect the Remans. And also because—” Again, he hesitated.

  Spock picked up the ball. “The very quality that made the protectorate agreement palatable to the Federation makes it less so for the Klingons. They prefer a Romulan government that does not have a focus for its ire. Chaos suits the empire’s purposes.”