Articles of the Federation

by Keith R. A. DeCandido

  Generally, all still-living presidents attended the death ritual of any president who died. Exceptions occurred when there were those who, like Thelian, had a good reason for not attending, or the recently deceased president’s traditions did not have a death ritual with an attendance. But if we can’t find ’em, we can’t get ’em here, Esperanza thought with annoyance.

  Jaresh-Inyo had been a living contradiction. A very large man with a ferocious mien, he had been in fact, one of the most levelheaded and calm people Esperanza had ever met. In many ways he had been the perfect peacetime president. Elected when the Federation had gone past conflicts with the Tzenkethi and Cardassians, when the Klingon alliance had been strong, when the only threats had come from the Romulans—only recently coming out of their fifty-year isolation—and the Borg—a distant and occasional threat at best—he’d been a compromiser, someone who hadn’t worried or offended anyone. He would never have spanked the council over Aligar the way the president did back in January, and he probably would’ve been a lot less proactive on the whole Reman thing.

  But then, two years into his term, contact had been made with the Dominion, and everything had changed. The Cardassian government had fallen, the Klingons had invaded and pulled out of the Khitomer Accords, changelings had begun infiltrating Alpha Quadrant governments, and Jaresh-Inyo had allowed himself to be manipulated by a Starfleet admiral into declaring martial law shortly after the attack on the Antwerp conference. The admiral had over-reacted to the security situation, but only because the president had underreacted. Into that breach had stepped Min Zife, who—whatever his flaws—did put the Federation in a position to win a war that was by far the worst in Federation history.

  For his part, the Grazerite had moved to Mars and lived a quiet retirement after a lifetime of service, first to Grazer as a councillor, then to the Federation as president, until he’d died in his sleep.

  Still, he was a good man. He deserves the accolades—and to have a thousand people at his funeral.

  The Starfleet honor guard—four security officers in their dress whites—walked in formation up to the podium, where the former president’s body was shrouded with the Federation flag. They removed the flag, revealing the body, dressed in the traditional black hooded outfit that Grazerites considered formal wear.

  The four officers neatly folded the flag into a triangle, then presented it to Jaresh-Inyo’s widow. Esperanza knew that had its basis in some old Earth tradition; she personally found it a bit ostentatious, but she could see why it was still done. It had a certain dignity, a certain respect. He lived his life in service to what that flag represents.

  Then a Grazerite kelmek—the word translated into “death-helper”—nodded to someone Esperanza couldn’t see from her seat in the top row, and, moments later, Jaresh-Inyo’s body dematerialized in a transporter beam. She smiled sadly. Well, if it calls for destruction of the body, that’s a pretty clean way of doing it.

  Jaresh-Inyo’s brother, Jaresh-Uryad—about half the height of his brother—then moved to the center of the stage from the first row of the amphitheater. If this follows the usual protocols, a couple of other family members will speak, then President Amitra, then President Bacco.

  Even as Jaresh-Uryad began to speak in a voice that was eerily similar to that of his late brother despite their differences in height and build, Esperanza’s comm started to beep.

  She sighed. One of the reasons why she had taken a seat in the top row was because it was near an exit. Zachary was fielding all her comms, and only he had the code to get through to her, and he was only to contact her if it was urgent. I suppose going one hour without something urgent was asking too much.

  As soon as she was in the hallway outside the amphitheater—a thin ribbon of space that went around the top, but was dotted with support beams that Esperanza could stand behind so she would have at least a modicum of privacy—she said, “What is it, Zachary?”

  “Abrik. He says there’s a problem.”

  “What kind of problem?”

  “Klingons, Remans, and Romulans.”

  Esperanza sighed. “Oh my.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Dammit.” Things had finally started to quiet down once the Klingons had started moving the Remans to Klorgat IV. So what’s gone wrong now? “Put him through.”

  “Madam President?”

  It took all of Esperanza’s willpower to keep from rolling her eyes. Then, remembering she was more or less alone, she did it anyhow. I can’t believe we’re doing this again. “It’s Esperanza, Jas, what’s the problem?”

  “I need to talk to the presi—”

  “The president is sitting in Squyres waiting for her turn to eulogize one of her predecessors. Unless the Dominion’s reinvading—and I know that’s not why you’re calling—then I’m not disturbing her until the service is over.”

  “It’s urgent, Esperanza, I—”

  “Does this have to do with Klorgat?”

  “Yes.”

  “Which is hundreds of light-years from here?”

  A pause. “Yes.”

  “So will the president not finding out about this for another hour or so really matter in the grand scheme of things, especially since I’m here to deal with it in the interim?”

  “You’re not here, you’re there.”

  Esperanza couldn’t help it. “That’s neither here nor there, Jas. What happened?”

  Abrik let out a long breath before answering the question. “One of Klorgat IV’s moons blew up.”

  “How?”

  “We’re not sure. Initial indications are that it was natural—but none of the surveys done of the Klorgat system indicated any kind of instability in the moon.”

  “How thorough were the Klingons’ scans?”

  “Of the fourth planet, very. Of the moons—we’re not sure. Unfortunately, the ship that scanned it initially four years ago was the I.K.S. Azetbur. They had only transmitted basic sensor specs back to Qo’noS before they were called to Elabrej, where they were destroyed.”

  “So this could’ve been a natural disaster.”

  “Yeah, it could’ve.”

  Esperanza smiled. “You don’t sound convinced.”

  “The Klingons are a lot of things, but they’re not stupid. Their sensors are as good as ours, and any Starfleet vessel worth its salt would’ve picked up this kind of thing. Sure, maybe they missed something the first time, or maybe the Azetbur forgot to report it, but there’s been dozens of ships in and out of Klorgat the last two months. They can’t have missed this.”

  Seeing where this was going, Esperanza said, “You think it’s Mendak.”

  “Yeah, I think it’s Mendak. The Klingons also think it’s Mendak.”

  Esperanza shook her head. “Of course they do, because the only alternative is that they royally screwed up.” She sighed. “All right, keep on this. As soon as we’re on the T’Maran home, the president’ll call you, and I’ll make sure T’Latrek’s in there with us. Round up Akaar, Shostakova, and Molmaan, too.”

  “They’re already on their way, as is Ross, and we’ve got Rozhenko on standby. And we’re trying to track Spock down.”

  “Good luck with that.” Esperanza figured that was a lost hope. Spock had returned to Romulan space and had given every indication that he was going to complete his mission on his own terms, without interference from the Federation government. Ninety years later, and he’s still smarting because he feels responsible for Chancellor Gorkon’s assassination. Must be something about mixing human and Vulcan genes that produces large amounts of guilt. “We’ll talk in an hour.”

  “Right.” A pause. “Look, Esperanza—I’m sorry. You’re right, there is a chain of command. It’s just—” Another pause. “I don’t like the way any of this is going. The Klingons are pissed off, and they’re only going to get more pissed off, and the lack of any kind of strong central authority on Romulus means they don’t have a good target. Which means they may find another one.”
>
  “Then we’ve gotta work to not give them one.” She smiled. “Apology accepted, Jas. Let’s get this done.”

  She signed off, then contacted Zachary again and told him that no matter what he had to do to accomplish it, he had to make sure that Ambassador K’mtok was on the fifteenth floor by the time the T’Maran touched down on the Palais roof.

  Then she returned to the amphitheater, just as President Bacco was getting up to speak. That was fast. She wondered if Amitra let her go first or declined to speak.

  For a moment, the president simply stood at center stage. By Grazerite tradition, the only ornamentation on the stage was the pallet for the body, and Esperanza feared Nan would be lost without a podium to stand behind. Then she thought that perhaps Fred’s speech hadn’t been put onto the holoprompt.

  But then Nan started to speak.

  “About a hundred and fifty years ago, the people of the Federation elected a wonderful Trill woman by the name of Madza Bral to be their president. She was the first person not from one of the five founding worlds to serve in that office. She served two terms and then declined to run for a third, citing exhaustion and old age. ‘The presidency,’ she said in what was, in essence, her retirement speech, ‘is quite possibly the worst job in the Federation. The hours are long, the work is difficult, the decisions that have to be made are unimaginable to anyone who has never set foot in the Palais de la Concorde. Your successes are unappreciated, your failures are blown out of all proportion, and your life disintegrates before your very eyes. And having said all that, I would never, under any circumstance, trade the last eight years for anything.’

  “I didn’t know President Jaresh-Inyo very well. We met several times after I was elected governor, and I found him to be a good man, an honest man. It’s easy now to criticize him as the president who failed to prevent the Dominion threat from escalating, or as the chief executive who let Earth be placed under martial law. And it’s just as easy to ignore or minimize his achievements: expanding the rights of sentient beings under the Federation Charter; opening new diplomatic relations with the Children of Tamar; and normalizing our relationship with the Cardassian Union for the first time in fifty years. None of these were the stuff of news reports the way other aspects of his presidency were, but they should not—cannot—be ignored.

  “This Federation is remarkable. We now have one hundred and fifty-four members, many of whom have more than one world under their purview. Think about it—that’s hundreds of planets. And the president’s job is to keep these worlds, populated as they are by the most diverse and, frankly, cantankerous collection of species you’re likely to find in this universe, from flying apart. Any president who comes to the end of a term with the Federation still intact, well, that president has done the job. I’ve only been in office for nine months, but in that time I’ve learned that that’s the only true test for success, and Jaresh-Inyo passed it.

  “Jaresh-Inyo chose to run. He won. He served. And then he stepped aside for the next winner, leaving the Federation still intact four years later. For that, and for so much else, we honor him today. I am proud to be part of the same family as him, as President Amitra—” Here she nodded at the other former president. “—as Presidents Thelian and Zife, who couldn’t be here, and as President Bral, and I close as I began, with her words: ‘What matters, in the end, is that the Federation endures.’ Because of Jaresh-Inyo, we’ve endured. Thank you.”

  Wow. Fred MacDougan wrote that speech on the T’Maran while flying here, a journey that only took three hours. If there’s time with the whole Reman mess, I am making sure he gets some of my single-barrel Jack Daniel’s tonight.

  “ ‘Well’?”

  Ashanté Phiri had to resist a strong urge to beat her husband about the head and shoulders as they walked to the spaceport where the T’Maran and the al-Rashid were docked.

  “How could she just drop that in there? It’s a rhetorically meaningless word, it threw off the rhythm of the sentence, and she sounded like an idiot.”

  Ashanté had known something was wrong when Fred had flinched during one part of the speech. Ashanté hadn’t been sure when it was, exactly, as she’d been too caught up in her admiration for her husband’s work. President Bacco had insisted on giving her own eulogy, so Fred hadn’t thought about it, which was fine, as he’d had the Starfleet Academy commencement to worry about.

  But then this morning, the president had announced that she hadn’t been able to think of anything, and could Fred take a stab at it? Since he’d been, as he’d put it, “abso-damn-lutely nowhere” with the commencement talk, he’d leapt at the chance.

  “What does ‘well’ mean there? It’s a nonsense word.”

  “Fred, darling,” Ashanté finally said as they were approaching the doors to the dock, “I didn’t even notice it. I thought the speech was brilliant.”

  “The speech was brilliant—then she put that damn ‘well’ in there.” He turned to glare at her. “And how could you not notice it? What I wrote was, ‘Any president who comes to the end of a term with the Federation still intact has done the job.’ It was a solid, declarative statement, giving the impression that she actually knows what she’s talking about, what with being president and all. But no, she said, ‘Any president who comes to the end of a term with the Federation still intact, well, that president has done the job.’ Now it’s not the authoritative declaration of an informed source, it’s just some gosh-wow, off-the-cuff opinion that probably doesn’t really mean anything.”

  “Sweetie, how long are you gonna go on about this?”

  Fred let out a long breath, puffing his cheeks. “I figure at least another hour.”

  “Okay, then—just so you know, you’re gonna need a new audience in a minute.”

  “Why?”

  “Esperanza needs me on the T’Maran.”

  Fred’s look of righteous indignation modulated into a look of concern and husbandly understanding. He also knew better than to ask why, since if she could say why, she would, and if she didn’t, it meant she couldn’t, at least not yet. “All right. Which of the guards are going on the al-Rashid?” When the president traveled with two shuttles, the security detail was split evenly between them.

  “Kenshikai, Trrrrei, and Lillius.”

  Fred smiled. “Perfect. I can bitch and moan at Hantra.” Hantra Trrrrei was a very large, taciturn Coridani, who would likely respond to Fred’s carrying on about the president ruining his great speech with complete indifference.

  Smiling back, Ashanté said, “Just make sure that Una isn’t anywhere nearby.” Una Lillius was never one to shy away from an argument, even while on duty. “Anyhow, gotta go.” She kissed her husband on the mouth, then made a beeline for the T’Maran.

  Within a few minutes, she was ensconced in the aft section with the president, Esperanza, and Councillor T’Latrek, with Jas Abrik standing by on a secure channel in the Monet Room.

  “Coop,” Bacco said, “we’re gonna need privacy back here.”

  “Okay, boss,” the pilot said. He lowered the small bulkhead that separated the pilot’s compartment, where Lan Cooper flew the ship, and the front part of the aft compartment, where Rydell, Aoki, and T’r’wo’li’i’ stood guard, from the rest of the aft compartment.

  Ashanté then took the call off standby. The screen lit up with an image of the Monet Room, as well as an inset image of Ambassador Rozhenko from the embassy on Qo’noS. Present in the Monet Room besides Abrik were Secretary Shostakova, Councillor Molmaan, Admirals Ross and Akaar, and Captain Hostetler Richman.

  “Have we figured out what happened?” Bacco asked without preamble.

  “We don’t really know much more than we knew already,” Abrik said. “Klorgat IV’s largest moon exploded for no obvious reason.”

  “How many people were killed?”

  Akaar said, “None.”

  That surprised Ashanté, and she said, “Really?”

  “The Remans that have settled there are on the la
rgest continent on the world, and it was facing away from the moon when the explosion occurred. Most of the damage was done to an ocean halfway around the world.”

  Ross added, “In addition, the Klingon and Reman ships that were handling the move were able to destroy some of the larger pieces of moon before they struck the planet.”

  “Yeah,” Ashanté said, “but that still can’t be good news for the planet. If it’s got oceans, the loss of a moon’s gonna play merry hell with their tidal patterns.”

  Bacco nodded. “The dust will probably get into their atmosphere—we could be looking at an ice age.” She looked at the screen. “Are we gonna have to evacuate them again?”

  “Unlikely,” Akaar said. “Even with those changes, Klorgat IV is still several orders of magnitude more hospitable than Remus ever was.”

  Rozhenko added, “The Remans’ve already announced that they’ve got no intention of leaving, and the High Council’s backing them up.”

  “All right,” Bacco said, “but I’m worried about that a lot less than why this happened.”

  “We still don’t know that, ma’am,” Abrik said.

  “May one assume,” T’Latrek asked, “that the Klingons claim the Romulans are responsible?”

  Shostakova nodded. “And the Romulans say it was a natural disaster. They also believe the irony is one the Klingons should be able to appreciate.”

  “Actually,” Esperanza said, “the similarity between this and Praxis is a lot of what leads me to think that this isn’t an accident.”

  “But it happened when no Remans were in direct danger,” Ashanté said. “If the object was to attack the Remans, why wait until the Remans are on the far side of the planet to blow it up?”