Star Trek: Enterprise - 016 - Rise of the Federation: Tower of Babel

by Christopher L. Bennett

  Oh, there would have to be compromises. The Family had already extended feelers to the Trade Commission, offering to make a deal and to participate in the transition to a more democratic form of government. But even an occupying power still needed to rely on existing local authority structures for day-to-day rule, so the Thamnos could survive by making themselves indispensable to the new regime, playing along with its reforms while continuing to accumulate wealth and power through sub rosa means. Retifel’s yearning for open rule of two worlds would have to give way to a more clandestine form of power on the margins of society—the very situation Retifel had hoped to avoid.

  But she had gambled and lost, and she was a good enough sport to accept the consequences. What mattered was that, one way or another, the Family would survive.

  June 28, 2164

  Tregon, Rigel V

  “On behalf of all Rigel, I hereby thank you.” Adren Kospar, the round-eared Zami male who had been hurriedly sworn in as the new Rigel V representative to the Rigelian Trade Commission, gestured expansively at the two Starfleet captains who sat before the board of directors in the council hall. “Captain Malcolm Reed of Earth, Captain T’Pol of Vulcan—it is thanks to you and the heroic efforts of your crews that the Rigelian society and economy have been spared a true disaster.”

  T’Pol leaned forward. “Thank you, Director, but we require no accolades. Our purpose is to serve.”

  “And so you have,” Director Sajithen intoned, her words pitched toward the Rigelian masses viewing the live broadcast. “Indeed, recent events have served to open our eyes to a fundamental weakness in our system. We built Rigel’s economy on license and indulgence—valuing freedom, yes, but hypocritical in our tolerance of those who would exploit their own freedom to impinge on the freedom of others. We now see that the balance of secrets and threats we used to maintain order left us teetering on the edge of a knife. And so the people now clamor for reform.”

  Jemer Zehron spoke with more reluctance. “Yes, indeed. Though war has been averted, we have seen sectors of the economy destabilized, public officials disgraced, trust in the system badly undermined. We must act to restore the public’s faith in our institutions.” He fidgeted. “It seems likely that . . . some of us will not survive the referendum our shareholder-voters have called for. And perhaps that is as it should be. But if nothing else, we should do what we can to minimize the damage our choices have caused.

  “I opposed Federation membership because I believed it was in the best interest of my . . . supporters,” Zehron went on, though T’Pol was sure he was not referring to his electoral base. “But none of us can thrive unless confidence in our basic institutions is restored. The public increasingly sees Federation law and Starfleet protection as the keys to our future stability. Thus, I will oppose their will no longer.”

  T’Pol and Reed exchanged a look, aware that there may have been an ulterior motive underlying Zehron’s calculations. Garos’s revelation of the First Family’s secrets had led to the arrests of their operatives and puppets throughout the system, crippling their offworld criminal operations and their ability to buy politicians’ votes. Garos himself had gotten away cleanly, and the Commission showed no interest in pursuing him. No doubt buying immunity had been part of his intent. Although T’Pol believed that Garos was not above taking such actions out of sheer vindictiveness.

  “I applaud my colleague’s support for admission,” Kospar put in. “I am convinced that, whatever my predecessor’s First Family ties may have compelled her to do against her preference, Director Hemnask’s true belief was that Rigel would be stronger and better as a member of the Federation. And I hear support for that belief from an ever larger number of her former constituents. I consider it my place to honor that side of her legacy.”

  “And I think we all know where I stand,” Sajithen said.

  Nop Tenott looked around uneasily. “I still have my doubts about the cost to the liberties of our business interests. I may have been overruled on admission, but if the voters see fit to keep me on this board, I will continue to fight for those liberties.”

  “If I may,” Malcolm Reed said. “Certainly it is the right of all citizens to dissent and disagree peacefully. That is a Federation value and a Rigelian one. But there is a right way and a wrong way to do it.” He paused. “I have found over the course of my career that secrets, however benevolent the intentions underlying them, have a tendency to do more harm than good in the long run.”

  “Indeed,” T’Pol added. “It is better to express such disagreements openly, within the framework of mutual transparency and trust. We may disagree with one another on many things . . . but so long as we trust one another, we can work together to resolve those disagreements.

  “We hope that Rigel’s many worlds and cultures will join the worlds of the United Federation of Planets in a partnership of mutual trust . . . and friendship.”

  Excerpt of speech by Councilor Anlenthoris ch’Vhendreni, June 30, 2164

  . . . The discovery that two of my chief advisors were on the payroll of the Zankor syndicate, and that they arranged for my diversion and delay at Babel in order to set up a false attempt on my life in hopes of discrediting Admiral Jonathan Archer, has prompted me to conduct a fuller investigation of this corruption. And I am now forced to admit that it extends further into the Planetarist movement than I had wanted to believe. While the great majority of Planetarists have legitimate questions and concerns about the haste with which the Federation has centralized power, the evidence I am releasing today will show how their grassroots activism has been co-opted by a self-serving few who do not have the people’s best interests at heart, but who instead seek to cripple the Federation in the name of their own selfish, even criminal interests. Legitimate efforts to reform the Federation’s laws and secure the liberties of its citizens have been supplanted by cynical manipulation and inflammatory rhetoric designed to undermine the Federation itself and its ability to maintain peace and order. This agenda does not serve the liberties of the Federation’s member peoples, and indeed it actively endangers them.

  And I must confess that I have let myself be complicit in this manipulation. I have knowingly acted against my own beliefs and advocated positions that I knew were irresponsible and unwise, because I let myself be convinced that it was necessary to score political advantage. I chose to lie to my own constituents, to be untrue to myself, in the name of winning an election. And in so doing, I forgot that the goal of politics is not to win at any cost—the goal is to serve. I have used the good of the people as a justification for my rhetoric, but I have been a hypocrite in doing so, for I believed I had to trick the people into voting me into office, to inflame their resentment and anger against the opposition, rather than inspiring them to strive alongside me for a better future. No one can govern merely by attacking one’s political rivals. We compete for office, but our obligation once elected is to work together for the common good. Our different values and priorities allow us to act in concert to serve a wider range of the people than any one faction could do alone. This is the essence of democracy.

  I intend to withdraw from the presidential race. I know that many of my fellow Planetarists—and there are still many legitimate ones—may feel that they have lost a voice in this election as a result. But they have not. The truth is, my own beliefs and those of Councilor al-Rashid are not that far apart. We agree on the fundamentals, and only differ on certain matters of emphasis that are well within both our capacities to negotiate. Whatever the rhetoric I have spun in the name of politics and in the unwitting service of those who seek to divide and undermine our state, I agree with Councilor al-Rashid that we, the peoples of the United Federation of Planets, have more uniting us than dividing us; that we all share a common goal of making a better Federation and a better future; and that we can achieve that goal by listening to one another and fairly considering one another’s points of view. I believe in the independence, uniqueness, and dignity of the Federat
ion’s member species and cultures, but I believe we cannot defend those ideals unless we are united in defending the whole, and joined by certain fundamental principles. Rather than rushing to an extreme of centralization or of individualism, we must find a balance between the two, a balance we can only arrive at by working in partnership with our political opposition. As the Vulcans say, it is our differences working in combination, not at odds, that will give us strength.

  We are a Federation of Planets . . . but we must never forget that we are United.

  July 1, 2164

  Babel Station

  Sedra Hemnask rose from her cot as Jonathan Archer arrived outside the transparent door of her cell in Babel’s security section. She looked as though she wanted to reach out for him, but the door—and something else—held her back. She waited until Archer activated the intercom, then spoke. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me again.”

  “Honestly . . . I wasn’t sure either.”

  Her eyes darted around, staying low. “I heard the news . . . the delegates voted to approve admission. I’m . . . I’m relieved that my sabotage failed. If only . . .”

  Some moments after she trailed off, Archer spoke slowly. “I thought you should know that the people of Rigel IV are in open revolt. Many of the First Families have already been overthrown, or have fled the planet with their assets in tow. Others have invited in Trade Commission peacekeepers and advisors to help them transition to a democratic form of government. The Thamnos family is one of them.”

  She stared at him in fear, wringing her hands. “That would not spare my kin from their wrath.”

  Archer’s tone softened. “We alerted the resistance on Four to get in touch with Voctel Thamnos. It turns out that he already had a plan in place to get his wife, children, and grandchildren to Rigel V so they’d be safe from retribution if you didn’t succeed. The resistance ran interference and helped him get them away. They’re staying with your mother, Sedra.”

  She gasped and sobbed in relief. “A great mercy.” She caught her breath. “I suppose I’m both grateful that it’s over—and so terribly ashamed that I helped them for nothing. Voctel was looking out for his heirs. If I’d defied them from the start, my family would still have been safe.”

  Archer took pity on her. “You couldn’t know that for sure. You made the best decision you thought you could at the time. You acted out of love, Sedra. I can’t blame you for that.”

  She turned back to him, her vast emerald eyes glinting with tears. “Love. Oh, Jonathan, I’m just as ashamed of how I used you. How I hurt you.”

  After a moment’s thought, he put his hand on the door. She placed hers opposite it. “I forgive you, Sedra. Yes, I’m hurt—but I know you thought you had no choice. And really . . .” He laughed, lowering his hand. “It’s gotta be the fourth time I’ve let someone manipulate me like that. If anyone’s at fault, it’s me for being so damn gullible.” They shared a laugh, though it was not without pain.

  “You deserve better, Jonathan. I hope those experiences don’t harden you to the search for love. I know there must be someone out there you can trust, someone who’ll be good for you. Someone who . . . who deserves you.”

  He held her eyes, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He thought of T’Rama, a Vulcan who seemed to draw strength from the bonds of family on far more than the professional and logical levels she confessed to. He wondered if maybe he’d been wrong all these years to see relationships and professional responsibilities as conflicting forces. Maybe the one could actually reinforce the other.

  And once again, he found himself thinking of Danica Erickson. And wondering.

  July 3, 2164

  Lyaksti, Sauria

  Charles “Trip” Tucker had been eagerly awaiting Harris’s response for more than a week. Using the real-time subspace relays Starfleet had set up between Sauria and Federation space created too much risk of unwanted attention, so Tucker had needed to bide his time. Time during which the Global League, for all its commendable efforts to distribute the cure (regardless of who took credit for it), had been too paralyzed by political games and collective ass-covering to take any action about the growing oppression in M’Tezir-controlled territory, or to react to the alarming evidence of a massive military buildup beginning in M’Tezir itself. Time during which the Federation government had been just as useless, unwilling to consider intervention when the natives of the planet would not ask for it—and perhaps unwilling to risk the steady flow of dilithium and transuranics from the countries Maltuvis now held in his tightening grip.

  In fairness, Tucker could understand the Federation’s position. From the beginning of their time together on Enterprise, T’Pol had argued against aggressive intervention in the affairs of indigenous cultures, and events had often proven her right. Jonathan Archer had come to embrace the principle himself, and now advocated for it as an admiral, insisting that the Federation’s benevolent intentions needed to be balanced by an awareness of the risks of cultural imperialism. To be sure, Federation law was a long way from catching up with that principle—in part due to the growing nation’s need for resources from worlds like Sauria—but even so, helping out when invited was a far cry from imposing aid on a planet that didn’t welcome it. History showed that such impositions proved hard to distinguish from military occupations.

  But Section 31 was another matter. Its whole purpose was to find back-channel solutions to matters too sensitive for overt Federation intervention. Surely with Harris’s backing, and the help of good people like Antonio Ruiz, Tucker could organize a local resistance, maybe even suborn M’Tezir officials willing to stage a coup against Maltuvis—ideally one leading to his arrest and imprisonment, but Tucker would take what he could get, given how many other lives were at stake. In the meantime, a small team of section operatives under his lead could infiltrate M’Tezir and sabotage their military buildup, possibly staving off an invasion of the Global League. No doubt Harris would have some suggestions of his own, and Tucker was eager to hear them.

  But his hopes fell the moment he decrypted the message and saw the solemn look on the older operative’s face. “Mister Sims. I appreciate your zeal to come to the aid of the Saurian people. I can’t disagree with your outrage at the current situation, and I share your concern for the lives on the ground.

  “However . . . the sad reality is, these matters are not our responsibility.” He held up a hand, anticipating that Tucker was about to talk back to the recording. “I know what you’re going to say. You’ve been living among those people for weeks now, and you want to help them. But our organization has a clearly defined purpose, and that is to protect the best interests of the United Federation of Planets.” He sighed. “And sometimes, the best way to do that . . . is to do nothing. As things stand, M’Tezir is continuing to supply vital mineral resources to the Federation—indeed, now that Maltuvis controls them all, he’s given us an even better deal than before.”

  Tucker threw up his hands. “Sure, to bribe us into leavin’ him alone!”

  Harris had continued speaking under him: “And yes, of course he’s done that to buy our complacency. I don’t like being manipulated any more than you do,” the career manipulator added without visible irony. “But there’s more at stake here. If we stir things up too badly, if Maltuvis suspects the Federation or Starfleet of taking any action against him, then not only could we lose the resources he provides, but he could decide to share them with the Klingons or the Orions instead. And then how many people—Federation citizens included—would suffer?”

  Harris leaned forward and gazed intently into the pickup. “This is what we do, Mister Sims. We make the cold calculations, shoulder the ugly choices, so the rest of the Federation can sleep at night. If you had any illusions about that, I suggest you leave them behind on Sauria. Because we need you back here, where you can do some good.”

  A pause. “And if you’re considering some noble gesture like going rogue and staying there to help . . . don’t. N
ot only would you have no support from us, but we’d be obligated to actively work against you to preserve the steady flow of trade. And we have a zero-tolerance policy toward operatives who go off the reservation. I trust I make myself clear.

  “Come home. Right away. That’s an order. That’s your duty . . . to the Federation.”

  Tucker seethed as he deleted the message from the system memory, wishing it were on some disk or cartridge he could smash. “Come home where I can do good, right—just sit and watch and do nothing!” Do nothing while a world is threatened with tyranny . . . because we care more about dilithium and duranium.

  Is that what I signed up for?

  • • •

  Tucker found Antonio Ruiz in a sauna bar in Lyaksti’s capital—a pale, touristy imitation of the ones in Narpra, according to Tony, but the closest thing he could find. But Ruiz showed no inclination to go back to the saunas, although he’d clearly been at the bar for a fair amount of time already. Tucker had a long way to go to catch up, but he was willing to try. “I’ll have what he’s having,” he told the bartender.

  “Al, how ya doin’?” Ruiz slurred.

  “Not great,” Tucker said. “I’ve been recalled. That is . . . I got a new job assignment. I’ll be leaving tomorrow night. Goin’ back to the Federation.”

  “Is that so? Hunh. So much for Mister Bond. I guess it’s right what they’re sayin’—the Feds won’t lift a finger to help. Even unoff-unofficially.”

  Tucker shrugged. “I just got a new job, is all.” He tried to put in as much apology as he could without giving anything away. Then he blinked, struck that such a thought had made sense to him before he’d even had anything to drink. Was that what this job was doing to his way of thinking?