Tellar Prime. Two weeks later…
The ceremony on Tellar Prime was nothing like Nina had imagined it would be.
Two weeks had passed since the rescue of the Alaar, and in the immediate aftermath there had been no shortage of ideas about what should come next. During the battle, and in the hours that followed, everything had seemed so clear. The shared danger they all faced had stripped away decades of suspicion and political hesitation, leaving only the simple conclusion that none of their worlds could afford to stand alone any longer. Since then, certainty had given way to politics.
The ideas that had flowed so naturally in the heat of battle had become increasingly opaque as governments, ministries and diplomats weighed every aspect, every implication. Every proposal seemed to grow until its caveats, amendments and competing interests seemed longer than the initial idea. Momentum had slowed, and with it so too had Nina’s optimism about the goal of true unity. It had affected her mood more than she cared to admit.
Part of that, she knew, had little to do with diplomacy itself. The Alpha Centauri delegation had grown considerably since their arrival on Tellar Prime. Her predecessor, Ambassador Kelson’s advisers, analysts and diplomatic staff had finally caught up with her; transforming what had begun as a small investigative support to the Vulcans into a proper diplomatic mission for Humanity. This had not gone unnoticed by the Vulcans especially!
Oh the Vulcans had been cordial throughout, but there had been a subtle shift in their manner since the crisis ended. Their dissatisfaction had never been expressed directly, of course. It was communicated instead through careful phrasing, ‘measured’ recommendations and an increasing tendency to remind everyone where experience, precedent and logic should reside. Humanity had taken an unexpectedly prominent role in the investigation and while the results had ultimately justified it, Nina suspected some within the High Command were still quietly reconciling themselves to the fact that events had unfolded as they had.
Relations with the Vulcans were always like that. Every conversation felt like another move in a game of chess. Or perhaps, she thought with the faintest smile, kal-toh was the better comparison. Every piece had its proper place, every move altered the balance and none of them ever admitted they had been surprised by the outcome, even when they clearly had.
Kelson had always been able to deal with the Vulcans. It was only now that his death had finally become real to her. His diplomatic staff were now her responsibility. They were courteous, experienced and unfailingly professional, but every briefing and every recommendation reminded her that she was no longer merely representing the Republic in Kelson’s absence. No. She had become his successor. And the weight of her world seemed to feel much more ‘real’ to her than ever before. ‘Why did I ever move into politics?’ she asked herself.
As the days wore on, there had been fewer grand speeches about a new era between all the governments. Instead, more time had been given to the detail of what that might mean before over-promising and under-delivering. Fortunately now, representatives from Tellar, Rigel, Coridan, Vulcan, Andoria and Alpha Centauri all gathered in a grand chamber to sign what had deliberately been called a ‘Concord’ rather than a ‘Coalition’.
It committed each government to the mutual defence of the others should one come under attack, while establishing the diplomatic framework to begin discussions on closer political, economic and military cooperation; aided by Coridan’s opening up of its dilithium industry.
It was a cautious document, full of careful wording and deliberate ambiguity. Two weeks ago, aboard the Artemis, it would have felt like a disappointment to her. To come this far and no further… at least, not yet. But she wasn’t sure how she felt. Only that she felt quite a mix of things.
She watched the Tellarite delegation add their signatures before passing the stylus to the Rigelians. The Andorians followed, then the Vulcans. It struck her that the document itself mattered less than the sight before her. Some of these governments had been preparing for war with each other, or would have been drawn into one by choosing sides. Now they stood in the same room, signing the same agreement for each other’s shared defence. ‘Perhaps that was enough for now’ she thought.
As the stylus made its slow journey around the chamber and eventually to her own hand, her thoughts drifted back to the bridge of the Artemis.
She could still picture the tactical display as the Xindi reptilian ships emerged from warp. Everything after that had happened in seconds, but she remembered exactly what she had felt. It wasn’t fear, but a sharp anger; and for a few terrible moments back then she had stopped thinking altogether. The years between the destruction of Earth and that battle had simply disappeared.
All she could see was the species responsible for the deaths of billions and before she had fully realised what she was doing she had instructed the helm and piloted the Artemis directly towards them.
She had told herself afterwards that it had been a calculated move to force the Xindi to break away, but it hadn’t been. That was a lie. Even in the moments after she knew it was a lie, because she couldn’t even meet the eyes of the poor Major who had tried to comfort her. It had been grief. Grief which was finally finding its way back to the surface in her. Had the Xindi vessel not been destroyed when it was, she might have condemned everyone aboard the Artemis to die because she had allowed the past to decide the present.
That thought had stayed with her since then. The irony wasn’t lost on her either. The entire conspiracy they had uncovered had depended upon old wounds. The Orions and their allies had never needed Tellarites and Rigelians to hate one another. They had only needed them to remember why they once had. The rest had taken care of itself. She realised that she had almost fallen into exactly the same trap.
The past deserved to be remembered. But it did not deserve to be the sole shaper of the future. When the stylus finally reached her, Nina accepted it with a small nod and signed beneath the others on behalf of all Alpha Centauri; on behalf of humanity.
This concord wasn’t everything she had hoped for, that was true. It wouldn’t solve centuries of distrust, and wouldn’t guarantee that the next crisis would end as well as this one had. But it represented something that had seemed impossible only weeks before. Six governments had chosen to build on what they had achieved together instead of retreating behind old suspicions.
It was a beginning. A beginning that Kelson had striven so hard to achieve. A beginning that could cement the foundations for the type of coalition he felt would be essential to humanity’s survival among the stars.
Looking around the chamber, she found herself hoping that this would be such a beginning.
