Star Trek(12)
Now the broadcast had switched to an excerpt from Councilor Thoris’s response. Andoria’s erstwhile ambassador and foreign minister was a thin-faced, aging chan with a reedy but commanding voice. “I am grateful for this endorsement,” he said, “not only for how it affects my political chances, but because it shows that despite our different views, goals, and ways of life, the races and cultures of the Federation are able to choose to work together when it is in our common interest. And that is precisely why the centralization of government that we see occurring with such haste is unnecessary, and why it must be halted before it compromises our planetary sovereignty. The members of the Federation rushed into union in the wake of the Romulan War, out of the desire for a strong and united defense. But while such mutual defense is certainly of value, in our haste we failed to consider the negative consequences of entrusting too much power to a central state. The Articles of Federation contain too few provisions for protecting planetary rights and resisting cultural homogenization. Starfleet has been given too much power of enforcement in matters that should be the purview of the members’ own security forces. Is it right that we even have a combined, consolidated Starfleet? Is it not better for each member world to bear responsibility for its own defense, to have forces specialized for its own particular needs?”
Thanien’s mouth twisted in scorn. It was a small-minded, ignorant objection. Starfleet was still quite a diverse organization, with each member world’s space agency assigned to its own particular specialty: exploration and diplomacy for the United Earth Space Probe Agency, border defense for the Andorian Guard, operational support and supply for the Tellar Space Administration, and so on. But that mix of specialties benefitted all the member worlds equally. And Thanien had learned as much from his fourteen months aboard Endeavour—an Earth-built, human-crewed ship with a Vulcan captain and a Denobulan chief medical officer—as he had from his thirty-two years in the Guard.
“And is it right,” Thoris continued, “for the Vanderbilt administration to be in such haste to enlarge the Federation by pressuring the Rigel system to join along with the Vega Colony? The current member states must already compete for standing and resources with five other members. How much more will each of our influence and independence be diminished if we must compete with seven others? Or ten, or twenty? How much further will our individual cultures be eroded away, subsumed within a mixture of so many ingredients? And what precedent does this imperialistic fervor set for the future?”
“Sad,” Thanien observed. “Thoris was one of the strongest advocates of cooperation against the Romulans. His willingness to share Andorian technology was critical to Earth’s victory.” He shook his head. “To see him pandering to the voices of fear and isolation just to win an election—it’s pitiful.”
“Try not to be so hard on him,” Phlox said, “or them. There’s value in considering all points of view. That’s the key to democracy!” He grinned widely.
The feed was now showing a rebuttal from Thoris’s principal rival, Earth’s Councilor Haroun al-Rashid. “What candidates such as my fellow councilor and Professor T’Nol are overlooking is that the type of loose partnership they advocate has already been tried, and failed, as the Coalition of Planets. History has shown us that we need a partnership strong enough that it will not disintegrate at the first sign of trouble. And last year’s incident between the Tellarite and Boomer colonists at Iota Pegasi shows that we need clearly defined guidelines for managing disputes and delineating rights and responsibilities among our members. We need institutions in place that will guarantee and facilitate our cooperation while still protecting our sovereign rights.”
Phlox finished up his feeding rounds and moved to the monitor. “Shall we go to lunch now, or would you like to keep watching?”
“No, I have no interest in hearing more,” Thanien said.
Phlox shrugged and shut off the news feed. “Your loss,” he said as he and the first officer exited through the frosted double doors into the corridor beyond. “I find this whole noisy political process most entertaining. We Denobulans, you know, are a patient bunch—slow to anger and slow to change. Politics for us is a cautious and deliberate affair; we’re sometimes too slow to adapt to a change in circumstances.”
“A pervasive problem, it seems,” Thanien said. “I, for one, find it an embarrassment that so many of my people are so irrationally frightened of the new era the Federation has created. That even lunatics like the Lechebists are being taken seriously is a source of shame for all Andorians.” It had been a year since Lecheb sh’Makesh had been elected governor of Alrond, a colony world in Andoria’s home system, and declared it the seat of the Andorian Empire in exile, in defiance of Federation authority. At first it had seemed to be mere words, with the Alrondian government pursuing no aggression but simply wishing to be left alone. But as the election drew closer, the rhetoric from Lecheb had become increasingly confrontational, helping to fire up the Planetarist and isolationist factions that sought to weaken or dismantle the Articles of Federation that they claimed had been forced upon them. Thanien still wanted to believe these were just a small fringe of the Federation population, a disproportionately vocal minority too small to have any real impact. But he feared that they might be more than a mere nuisance.