Archer paused beside the spiral railing, and his senior officers stood quietly behind him on the stairs overlooking the small amphitheater where the delegates to the prospective Coalition of Planets were debating nothing less than the future political alignments of five solar systems.
The discussion–if the tumultuous gabble of indistinguishable shouts and cries that filled the chamber really qualified as such–was going every bit as badly as Archer had feared. We can’t afford to lose Coridan,he thought glumly. Especially not while the Romulans are so hell‑bent on smashing the Coalition.A sense of utter helplessness descended upon him as he watched Ambassador Lekev turn and exit the room through one of the lower‑level doors.
“It appears you’ve arrived in the proverbial nick of time once again, Captain,” said Doctor Phlox, who was standing slightly behind Archer. He was leaning toward the captain’s ear, almost shouting to be heard over the raised voices of the diplomats.
Archer bristled reflexively at the Denobulan’s remark. “Phlox, are you expecting me to just leap in there and make everything right?”
Phlox appeared unfazed by Archer’s surly tone. “You havedone it before, Captain.”
“I’m an explorer, Phlox, and sometimes a soldier. But I’m no diplomat.” He couldn’t help but wonder, however, whether he could do a worse job than the alleged diplomats who were trying to shout each other down while the meeting’s chairman looked on impotently.
“Frankly, I think Admiral Gardner expects you to contribute something substantive to this meeting,” Phlox said, apparently undeterred.
Archer scowled. “How do you mean? He ordered me to be present for the Coalition Compact signing. That’s not until Wednesday.”
“Well, of course he didn’t order you to be here today,Captain,” Phlox said, his avuncular smile widening until it took on vaguely disconcerting proportions. “He knew it wasn’t necessary. He’d have had to lock you up to keep you away.”
Archer couldn’t help but wonder if Phlox was on to something there; after all, the moment Enterprisearrived in Earth orbit, he’d expected Gardner to call him on the carpet because of his unauthorized attempt to reach Coridan Prime ahead of the disaster that had since struck there.
Or maybe Gardner hasn’t gone after me because he regrets orderingEnterprise to head for Earth instead of Coridan.Archer knew that he would always wonder if he might somehow have intercepted the vessel responsible for the assault against Coridan, if only he’d had a little more time. It was easy to imagine that the admiral, whose sphere of responsibility was much larger than Archer’s, was now second‑guessing himself in the very same manner.
He imagined that Trip, who’d risked more than anyone else to try to prevent what happened on Coridan, must also be tying himself into knots of misplaced guilt and self‑recrimination at this very moment. That is, if he’s even still alive.
The only consolation Archer could find for any of them–Gardner, Trip, or himself–was his own bedrock certainty that the enormity of the Coridan catastrophe, as terrible as it was, would have been far worse had Trip not gotten his warning through, and had Archer failed to relay that warning to the Coridanites as quickly as he did.
“I can’t believe that Chancellor Kalev really thinks that withdrawing from the Coalition is a good idea,” said Malcolm Reed, who stood beside Hoshi Sato and Travis Mayweather on the steps immediately behind and above Phlox.
“Kalev has more to face than a planetary disaster,” Travis said. “His people have also been in a low‑grade civil war for years.”
“Maybe the disaster they’re dealing with will help them pull together,” Hoshi said. “Unite them politically, as one people. Maybe then they’ll be ready to enter long‑term alliances with other worlds.”
Watching the ongoing and still quite loud squabble on the debate floor, Archer wondered what that “readiness” really consisted of–and if it was really possible to maintain it. Even Soval seemed downright furious, and T’Pau appeared to be considering breaking someone’s neck with her bare hands. Right now, none of the usually dignified, patrician Vulcans appeared particularly ready for–or deserving of–interstellar goodwill, even though they had achieved domestic political unity centuries ago.
And on that score, what arewe compared tothem? Archer thought, dispirited. Earth’s political unity was only around fifteen years old, dating from the time that Earth’s last holdout, the Independent Republic of Australia, grudgingly and belatedly followed the rest of the planet’s nation‑states in joining Earth’s global federated government.
“Let’s just hope that the Coridanites eventually decide that cooperation means strength and not weakness,” Reed said. “Maybe then they’ll finally join us. If they don’t get co‑opted in the meantime by the Klingons, or the Romulans.”
Reed’s last comment sent a slow shiver down Archer’s spine. He hated to think about it, but he knew that Coridan’s conquest by either the Klingons or the Romulans–who would end up controlling what still had to be the largest known dilithium reserves in several sectors of space–would mean certain disaster for every planet represented here today, including Earth. And the effect of that disaster would be multiplied by orders of magnitude should the representatives of the remaining worlds of the still‑unformed Coalition of Planets–which now seemed to be fracturing before his eyes like an over‑stressed dilithium crystal–were to succumb to the fear engendered by Coridan’s abrupt withdrawal by failing to sign the official Coalition Compact document.
And that signing was scheduled for a mere two days from today. If this thing falls apart now, the Klingons and the Romulans will find usall pretty easy pickings,Archer thought.
He realized then that Phlox had been absolutely right. He couldn’t simply stand by and watch this happen. He had to do something,regardless of what he thought of his own diplomatic skills. Even if he were to fall flat on his face, no one could possibly be any worse off for his efforts.
Archer turned to face his crew. “Wait here,” he said, raising his voice so he could be heard above the shouts reverberating across the chamber and beyond.
Then he turned again and strode purposefully down the stairs and straight into the center of the bedlam that reigned below.
Nathan Samuels was happy about only one thing: that he wasn’t carrying a phase pistol at the moment. With the Coalition literally falling apart before his very eyes, he was certain that he wouldn’t have hesitated to use the weapon on himself, and at its most lethal setting.
Once again, he vainly banged his gavel on his lectern. But no one was listening, or could even hear above the tumult.
Then he heard a high‑pitched whistle that pierced the wall of noise, startling every raised voice in the room into silence. The Vulcans, whose hearing was no doubt more acute than that of anyone else present, all appeared to be in some real physical pain as a result of the sound.
Samuels was only slightly surprised to note that it was an extremely grim and resolute‑looking Jonathan Archer who had stepped into the wide breach that his whistle had torn in the curtain of dismay and raised voices.
“The chair recognizes Captain Jonathan Archer,” Samuels said with a slowly spreading smile. He hadn’t forgotten the words of encouragement Archer had delivered the last time the Coalition of Planets’ debating practices had nearly become lethally contentious, in the wake of John Frederick Paxton’s recent acts of terrorism.
Archer took several more steps into the chamber, stopping when he reached the center, around which were arranged the long, semicircular tables occupied by the delegates.
“Thank you, Minister,” he said, nodding respectfully toward Samuels before returning his steely gaze to the assembled delegates, who had nigh miraculously remained quiet but for a few murmurs. Everyone present evidently had respect for this man–even the argumentative Tellarites, apparently–and seemed genuinely curious about what he intended to say.