The thought made him embarrassed about his sense of rivalry with Hoshi Sato. Making the interspecies relationship work had been difficult, sometimes turbulent, but that was no excuse to fall into bickering. The last thing Thanien wanted was to be anything like the Lechebists and their ilk.
I’m being a fool, he decided. There was no need to confront Sato about his concerns; he would simply set them aside and do his duty. This, he resolved, would be the end of it.
“They’re simply trying to cope with the rapidly changing world they live in,” Phlox was saying. “So much has happened so quickly these past few years . . . it’s natural that there’d be some turbulence as a result. It’s certainly livelier than Denobulan politics, and I’m finding it endlessly entertaining. I’m fascinated to see how it will play out.” He grinned. “Especially if Admiral Archer succeeds in getting Rigel to join before the election. That will certainly put the Pyrithian moon hawk among the bats,” he finished with a dramatic chuckle.
“I can understand their reticence,” Thanien said, “given the unfriendly reception they’re getting from those like Thoris. It must be unclear what we have to offer the Rigelians at this point. We’re not exactly putting our best face forward at the moment.”
“But that’s exactly what we are doing,” Phlox replied, still grinning. “For when it comes to diplomacy, the Federation’s best face is the one on the front of Jonathan Archer’s head.”
March 26, 2164
Tregon, Beta Rigel V
“You must understand our confusion, Admiral Archer, Commissioner Soval. Why should we accept your current president’s offer to join your Federation when your next president doesn’t even want us?”
“Let me clarify that, Director,” said Jonathan Archer. He strove for patience in his reply to Director Jemer Zehron, the Jelna member of the Rigelian Trade Commission’s governing board, whose four members sat across from the Federation delegation in the ornate council hall within the Commission’s Tregon headquarters. Along one wall was a large picture window looking out on the coastline of Rigel V’s most prosperous city, beyond which was the flotilla of icebergs that the currents drove through the Tregon Sea at this time of year. Rigel V was near the outer edge of Tau-3 Eridani’s habitable zone, making it prone to long winters and chilly springs and autumns.
“Councilor Thoris is just one of the candidates for president,” Archer went on, aware that he was addressing a live viewing audience across the Rigel system as well as the board members in this chamber. “We have a democratic process much like those found on your own member worlds.”
Soval, the Federation Commissioner for Foreign Affairs, leaned forward in his seat on Archer’s right. “By the same token,” the silver-haired Vulcan added, “whoever is elected president will not be able to dictate policy unilaterally. He or she will govern in partnership with the Federation Council—a council on which the Rigel system will gain representation should you agree to join.”
“You say the system,” intoned Sajithen, the Chelon director representing her homeworld Rigel III. At least, Archer thought “her” was the correct word; Phlox insisted the Chelons were hermaphroditic, but all of the ones Archer had met presented themselves as either male or female. Regardless, Archer couldn’t tell them apart; like all her kind, Sajithen was massive and broad-bodied with a thick, leathery green hide, a beaked face that evoked a tortoise and an eagle about equally, and clawed flippers that were more dexterous than they looked. While the more humanoid representatives sat in fairly normal chairs, the less flexible Chelon leaned forward on a glenget, a cushioned frame on which she rested her knees and abdomen. “Do you imply that the Rigel worlds warrant only one seat on your council?”
“My intent,” Soval told her smoothly, “was simply to reflect the fact that the number of seats Rigel would gain is a matter for future, more formal negotiations, in the event that you choose to pursue membership.”
Boda Jahlet, the Trade Commission ambassador who moderated this meeting, shifted her weight, rattling the elaborate wooden beads draped over her shoulders and chest. “This would be the ambassadorial conference you spoke of, on the planetoid designated Babel?” the sallow-skinned, craggy-faced Jelna exofemale asked.
“Correct,” said Soval. “A neutral ground where representatives from both sides can conduct final debates and negotiations and then vote on the question of admission.”
“Yes, yes, but that is the question,” Zehron interposed. The director—representing the colonies on Rigel II and the inner asteroids, despite belonging to the native species of Rigel V—was of the Jelna’s endomale sex, differentiated from an “exo” like Jahlet by paler skin, softer facial features, and red eyes. According to Phlox’s merry lectures about Rigellian sexuality, the exomale and exofemale sexes—distinguished by an extra Z chromosome and outnumbering the “endosexes,” the more typical males and females, by better than two to one—were the more robust and aggressive ones from an evolutionary-behavioral standpoint, adapted to handle the hunting and gathering while the endosexes stayed in camp to nurture and defend the young.