Disclaimer: All characters property of Paramount/Viacom.
Summary: In the year 2250, the formation of the Federation Council—the legislature of the United Federation of Planets—is taking place.
Author’s Note: Written for The Matrithon ficathon. Many thanks to Wildcat for the beta.
Friend Or Foe
By Rocky
Captain Robert April paused for a moment to gather his mental reserves and then signaled outside the cabin door.
“Come in!” called a youthful voice.
Biting back a sigh, April entered the room. Baxter looked up from a pile of PADDS littering the desk top. The current fair-haired boy of the Diplomatic Corps, Baxter must have been in his late 20’s at least, but to April’s jaundiced eye he could easily have passed for a schoolboy. Or at the very least, young enough to be asked to show some ID at any space bar in the sector. Still, Baxter must have shown enough competence to be awarded such a plum assignment on behalf of the United Earth—no, the United Federation of Planets, April hastily reminded himself—and so he would try to accord him the respect he deserved.
“We will be entering the system shortly,” April said, “and should be in orbit around Vulcan in approximately 4 hours.”
“Approximately?” said Baxter with a twinkle in his eyes. “I thought you Starfleet types prided yourselves on being exact.”
“Three point eight hours, then, if you insist,” April said stiffly.
Baxter tossed aside the PADD he’d been working on, then leaned back and put his feet up on the desk. “Isn’t this exciting?” he demanded.
“Exciting?” April echoed.
“Come on, Captain, surely even an old space-dog like you can’t be so jaded as to not feel any excitement for what we’re about to do?”
“The formation of the Federation Council is a big deal, of course,” April agreed. “I’m sure you and your staff have been working very hard in preparation.”
Baxter waved a hand dismissively even as he couldn’t help preening a little bit. “Oh, well, I suppose it would appear to an outsider to be a pretty daunting task.”
The captain of the ‘Fleet flagship did not move a muscle or otherwise react at being so characterized.
Baxter continued, “But honestly, all of the member cultures—the future members, I should say, though it hardly requires a crystal ball to predict the outcome of the planetary votes—of the Federation are already our allies. Alphacent, Andoria, Rigel, Tellar and, of course, Vulcan—piece of cake.”
It had been April’s experience that things were rarely as simple or as easy as they seemed. So it wasn’t simply an urge to prick Baxter’s overweening confidence that made him reply, “So you expect no difficulty in having Vulcan as the first signatory to the Charter.”
Baxter looked astonished at the statement. “Why should there be any difficulty? We’ve been associating with the Vulcans for nearly two centuries, since First Contact in 2061. The Vulcans have been providing us with assistance on diplomatic and strategic planning levels, and yes, on the scientific and technological fronts as well. And don’t forget what happened during the Romulan War.”
“I haven’t forgotten any of that,” April said quietly. “But relations with Vulcan haven’t always been as cordial as you seem to think.”
“What do you mean?” Baxter seemed more amused than indignant. “In what way?”
“There was a great deal of resentment over the Vulcans ‘holding humans back’ from developing the first warp 5 vessel, for one thing,” April said. He thought back to the conversation he’d had with Jonathan Archer, prior to taking command of the then-new, Daedalus-class Enterprise many years earlier. “They didn’t seem to think that we were ‘ready’ for such an advance, and did their best to stall our progress. And there were a number of other diplomatic incidents as well, such as the Andorian—”
Baxter shrugged. “Ancient history. And even then, not as important as you seem to think it was. It was all just some political posturing.”
“Just posturing,” April repeated. “The resentment engendered cut both ways.”
“Resentment? From Vulcans? Those people couldn’t feel resentful if their lives depended on it!” said Baxter. “At any rate, their current leadership is very pro-Earth. Our upcoming conference---at which we formally, as representatives of United Earth, ask Vulcan to be a signatory to the Federation Charter and to hold a seat on the Federation Council—should go off without a hitch.”
“You’re counting a great deal on the Vulcan High Council to go along with your plans,” April said. “Have you forgotten T’Pau?”
Baxter laughed. “T’Pau? She’s my ace in the hole!”
April raised a questioning eyebrow. He had met the Vulcan leader years before, as part of a joint Vulcan-Terran mission to Rigel to work out dilithium mining rights, and it would never occur to him to characterize her as simply a willing pawn in anyone’s hands.
Baxter must have noticed his skepticism. “It wasn’t widely publicized at the time, Captain, so perhaps you aren’t aware of the Syrran affair, which took place shortly before the outbreak of the Romulan war—“
Baxter’s condescending manner was grating on April’s last nerve. “I’m well aware of the details of the Syrran affair, Ambassador, as well as the repercussions—“
“—those repercussions, as you call them, resulted in T’Pau forcing the Vulcan High Council to change their so-called ‘restrictive’ policies toward Earth. And let me remind you, T’Pau has been an important player in Vulcan politics ever since.”
“T’Pau was quite formidable even as a young woman, from what I have heard,” April said, Archer’s words once more echoing in his mind. “Ruthlessly logical” was how the elderly Admiral had described her, not above using whatever tools she had at hand in order to achieve her goals. At any cost--even the life of a Starfleet captain. “As a Vulcan elder, she’s even more influential.”
“Then what are you worried about, Captain?”
“I just want to caution you about making assumptions, based on human behavior and reactions, where the Vulcans are concerned,” April said earnestly. “The Vulcans aren’t just ‘solemn humans’—they’re alien beings, coming from an entirely different culture, and their mores and thought processes cannot be assumed to be identical to our own.”
Baxter raised a finger. “Ah, you’re referring to the fact that Vulcans have no emotions.”
“That’s exactly my point—they do have emotions! They just don’t allow their emotions to dictate their behavior or responses. Logic reigns supreme for them.”
“You’re scarcely telling me something I don’t know, Captain,” Baxter said, beginning to sound a bit put out. “Yes, logic is the key. And it wouldn’t be logical for the Vulcans to act contrary to their own interests, would it?”
“You’re assuming it is in their best interests to enter into a formal alliance with Earth.”
“Why wouldn’t it be? Who else are they going to align themselves with? The Klingons?” Baxter chuckled. “Or the Romulans?”
April saw there was no sense in arguing further. “You will be contacted when we’ve achieved orbit, Ambassador.” He turned on his heel and left.
April stood quietly toward the back of the Vulcan High Council chamber, feeling every bit the bystander as he listened to Baxter’s florid presentation. Strictly speaking, his presence wasn’t exactly required; April’s official orders had been to transport the Terran delegation to Vulcan, nothing more. But the use of the flagship, bearing the hallowed name of Enterprise, to provide said transport had not been accidental. April was well aware he was there to represent the long history of cooperation between their two cultures—as well as to be Starfleet’s eyes and ears at the proceedings.
It was not his first time on Vulcan. As always, April felt his heart beating faster, his breaths coming more rapidly (distinctly unpleasant sensations for a man in his mid-60’s who was increasingly aware of his own mortality), as his body strived to adapt to the thinner-than-Terran atmosphere. To his relief, it was cool inside the stone chamber, despite the red granite walls and vaulted ceiling bearing more than a faint echo of the searing and unyielding Vulcan sky.
To his right, Ensign Malcolm, the security officer, stared stonily ahead, his expression giving no hint of what he was thinking. Only his feet, shuffling occasionally from side to side, hinted as to his boredom as Baxter droned on. To April’s left, Lieutenant Pike, the Enterprise navigator, leaned forward eagerly, as if afraid he would miss a single word. Pike was on the command track, so everything was grist for his mill. April himself, however, would have shaken his head at the elaborate formality of it all, including Baxter’s stilted phrasing, if he was witnessing these events in private. Granted a certain amount of gravitas was expected on such an occasion, but there would be yet another ceremony six weeks hence—more pomp for the circumstance--with the delegates from all the member worlds, culminating in the final signing of the Charter. This future ceremony would take place on whichever planet was ultimately agreed upon as the home of the Federation Council. April was betting it would be Vulcan, as they had been shepherding the upstart Terrans through the tangled intricacies of interstellar relations ever since First Contact.
Finally, Baxter was winding up his proposal. The Vulcans, their faces giving away nothing, were as attentive as they had been at the start, an hour and forty five minutes ago.
“Thank you, Mr. Baxter,” First Minister T’Pau said graciously—for a Vulcan. “We will adjourn shortly to consider the merits of what you have presented. You will be escorted to quarters where you may rest or partake of some refreshment, as you wish.”
A look of surprise crossed Baxter’s face. “Surely it won’t take that long—”
April felt the corners of his mouth turn down. Was Baxter really expecting the Vulcans to instantly accede? Even a quick vote—and despite his words to Baxter earlier, April wasn’t really in doubt as to what the end result would be—would take some time.
“What Mr. Baxter means is that we are appreciative of your hospitality and consideration as we await the outcome of the High Council’s decision,” April said smoothly as he stepped forward. “As to assigning us quarters--we are content to wait in this chamber, unless of course its presence is required for some other purpose.”
He felt, rather than saw, the quick glare Baxter sent his way. “Yes, of course,” Baxter said, clearly anxious to assume control of the conversation once more. “But surely there is no question as to what the outcome of your vote will be.” He smiled, the same smug and condescending expression that so irritated April. “After all, it would be illogical for Vulcan to do otherwise.”
“Illogical?” questioned Tuloc, one of the other ministers. His snow-white hair and wrinkled visage—even at the age of 130 T’Pau’s own dark locks were scarcely touched by gray and her skin still smooth—denoted his status as one of the elder members of the High Council. “So you think Vulcan has no choice but to join this new Federation?”
Again, Baxter looked surprised. Hadn’t they taught him anything in diplomacy school about keeping his emotions under wraps? April wondered in exasperation. Even around Vulcans. Especially around Vulcans. Though that could explain just why Baxter had been dispatched to Vulcan instead of one of the other worlds, such as Tellar. April winced inwardly when he thought of how easily Baxter could talk himself—and the nascent Federation—into a diplomatic crisis among the easily-offended Tellarites.
“Of course,” said Baxter once again. “What other choice could you possibly make?” He leaned forward confidentially; it was clear that only the presence of the high stone barrier separating the Vulcan ministers from the rest of the chamber prevented him from placing his hand on Tuloc’s—or T’Pau’s--arm. “I assure you that Vulcan’s position in the new Federation will be quite prominent. There’s no need to worry about any loss of face.”
“Concern of that type is a human motivation,” T’Pau commented. Her demeanor hadn’t changed, yet somehow the temperature in the chamber had just dropped several degrees.
Baxter reddened, at last aware of his blunder. “Yes, yes,” he said quickly. “I meant no dis--May I ask when you will let us know of your decision?”
“The High Council will be meeting later this evening to discuss other issues,” T’Pau said. “At that time, we will certainly take up this matter as well.”
Baxter forced a smile as he and his party were led from the High Council chamber. April followed, feeling a slight, involuntary wave of pity for the younger man. But only a slight one.
They sat around a plain nondescript table, in a small inner chamber. T’Pau glanced around the room at the other six ministers present, all of whom had been serving together for decades. Tuloc at age 203, was the eldest. T’Las, who had been elected a mere 17 years earlier, was the youngest at age 78. The thought crossed T’Pau’s mind, as it had increasingly of late, perhaps we need some new blood.
The other legislative matters were quickly dealt with. Truth be told, none of them were pressing and could easily have been postponed to another time.
V’Kemp, who was only a few years younger than T’Pau and one of the few Vulcans to favor facial hair, said, “It would be logical to begin with a vote, so that we may see where we stand on the issue of Vulcan joining the Federation.”
“Is it because you anticipate unanimity, or because you anticipate its opposite?” asked T’Meni. Her elaborately coiffed white hair was a stunning contrast to her dark-toned skin.
“I anticipate nothing,” V’Kemp replied. “I merely wish to know.”
“Agreed,” said T’Pau. “V’Kemp, we shall begin with you. Please state your position.”
“I am against Vulcan joining the Federation,” V’Kemp said without any further ado.
“Why?” asked Ryjak, one of the younger members. His pale green eyes gleamed in the relative dimness. “We share many common interests.”
“It is one thing to share common interests with the Terrans and other sentient species,” V’Kemp said. He stroked his beard unconsciously as he spoke. “But a formal alliance—which would undoubtedly translate to committing ourselves militarily as well as ideologically to the whims of others—is going too far.”
“Are you concerned that such an alliance would fetter our independence?” asked T’Meni. “Or even force Vulcans to act against our dictates?”
“Hardly,”said Tuloc dryly. “The idea of our being forced to act against our will is ludicrous and scarcely worth mentioning. But V’Kemp has brought up an excellent point. Dealing with others’ messy emotions, the humans’—or the Andorians’, for that matter---war-like stances, would not be desirable.” He paused, taking a sip of water from the crystal tumbler in front of him. “It has only been 90 years since Earth’s last major war, with the Romulan Star Empire…” His eyes met T’Pau’s and he shifted in his seat. “And there have been an untold number of ‘minor’ skirmishes in the intervening years since, chiefly between the humans and the Klingons.”
“And those hostilities may at any time erupt into another serious conflict,” said Salek, who was a distant kinsman of T’Pau’s late husband Barok. Their family ties in no way constrained him, however, from speaking his mind or even disagreeing with her as the situation warranted.
“That is an excellent point as well,” V’Kemp said. Tuloc nodded, too.
“Well, I am in favor of joining the Federation,” T’Meni said decisively.
“As am I,” said T’Las, looking around for other support.
“It is a logical outcome considering the long-standing cooperation between our two cultures,” said Ryjak.
“But the Federation is not simply the humans of United Earth,” pointed out Salek. “It will also include the Andorians, the Tellarites—“
“All allies of Earth,” T’Meni interjected smoothly. “And as you may recall, Vulcan played a role in facilitating that development. Or do you wish to bring up the ancient Andorian grudge against Vulcan?”
“That ‘grudge’ was settled more than a century ago,” Salek said, shaking his head. “It is not that of which I speak. I simply question the assumption that Vulcan must align with one side—the Federation—or another. Why can matters not continue as they have until now?”
“We may indeed remain neutral,” said Ryjak slowly. “For a period of time. But our refusal to join the Federation may give hope to the more aggressive species, such as the Klingons or Cardassians. They may well become bolder knowing that Vulcan is uninvolved, and will sit back as they act against our natural allies. Who may in turn feel betrayed by our refusal to join them.”
T’Las nodded. “In addition, there would be benefits for Vulcan as well in such an alliance.”
“What do you mean?” asked Tuloc. “What benefits could there possibly be in our being forced to sustain prolonged and close contact with such a labile and flighty species such as the humans?”
“Younger, more labile species, as you describe them, may have different approaches to problems than we ourselves would have,” observed T’Las mildly. “For example, look at the humans’ rapid development in the field of warp mechanics over the last 50 years. It is an undisputed fact that their space-faring technology currently outstrips our own. Their ships have penetrated farther into the Alpha and Beta Quadrants than our vessels. The humans’ unbridled enthusiasm is a plus.”
“Yes,” said Tuloc. “There is no disputing the humans’ technological prowess. However, it is the very same ‘unbridled enthusiasm’ you refer to which may create a problem.”
“You mean with other, as yet undiscovered sentient lifeforms?” asked Salek. “Or are you referring to relations with currently known species, such as the disastrous state of Klingon-Human relations, which has already been mentioned here today? I personally would not be surprised if other, similar, diplomatic disasters await the humans.”
“Do not underestimate their Starfleet,” put in T’Meni. “The humans have learned much from their past mistakes. They maintain cordial relations with Betazed, as well as Bolias, for example. It is in fact surprising that they, too, were not asked to join the Federation. And that is another matter to consider—the Federation is beginning as a small cohesive group of just a few species. Over time it is due to expand to encompass more and more planetary systems. Would it be in Vulcan’s interest to hold ourselves apart?”
“But at present, the Federation will consist strictly of the humans and their close allies,” said Tuloc. “Up to now we have had the opportunity to limit contact with the humans. How many Vulcans have traveled to Earth? How many humans, other than Starfleet officers, have visited our planet? You question the wisdom of our staying apart. I question the wisdom of allowing that to change. The conditions of such an alliance within the Federation would by necessity dictate much closer and prolonged dealings with the humans.”
“Perhaps,” said T’Las, “Vulcans are more staid while the humans are more eager to push back the boundaries of the unknown.”
“Has your admiration for the human way gone so far as to condone their aggression?” asked V’Kemp, a faint peevish note detectable in his voice. “May I remind you of the track record of humans in space? They hadn’t even ventured forth very far or for very long and managed to open hostile relations with the Klingon Empire. And the Xindi. And as for the Romulan Star Empire—“
“Salek has already brought up this point,” T’Pau interjected, her eyes locking onto V’Kemp’s. “There is no need to repeat it.”
“Back to the matter at hand,” Tuloc agreed. “I for one have serious doubts as to the advisability of putting Vulcan in a position where we will be forced to deploy our ships in a military engagement.”
“I agree with Tuloc,” said Salek.
“As do I,” said T’Meni immediately. “I would not condone any military involvement.”
“Such involvement may well be forced upon Vulcan as a member of the Federation,” said Salek, throwing a challenging look to T’Meni. There was a murmur of agreement from some of the others.
“I disagree,” said Ryjak, shaking his head emphatically. “Military matters, defenses—that is the function of Starfleet. As it has acted as the military arm of the United Earth, so too will it continue on behalf of the United Federation of Planets, as Mr. Baxter so eloquently pointed out this afternoon. And can anyone here possibly be suggesting that any Vulcans would be forced, or even willingly choose, to serve in Starfleet?”
Tuloc turned to T’Pau. “You have been mostly silent throughout the debate. I would like to hear your opinion.”
T’Pau glanced around the room, hesitating imperceptibly. “I have heard the arguments, both in favor and against.”
“And what do you say?” asked V’Kemp, leaning forward.
““I can see the logic presented by both sides,” T’Pau said. “However, I am personally against the proposal to join the Federation.”
“You are not in favor?” said Tuloc in disbelief. “I would have thought you would be. You were after all the minister who personally deployed Vulcan ships to aid Starfleet in the detection of the Romulan drone-ship right before the outbreak of hostilities between Earth and the Star Empire.”
T’Pau kept her voice calm and pitched low. “That was not an act of war but an act designed to prevent one. Allow me to clarify. I do not have any objection to maintaining peaceful relations with Earth or any of the other planetary systems involved in the Federation, but perhaps Vulcan would do best to continue in a non-aligned fashion.”
“Vulcan has always helped guide the Terrans, as warranted, to act as a force for the good, so to speak,” said T’Meni. “It would be wrong to abandon them now.”
“Our refusal to join the Federation is not an abandonment,” V’Kemp insisted.
“To the Terrans—and to others, perhaps to all but the Vulcans—it would seem as such,” T’Las said. She added, “The day has long passed that Vulcan can metaphorically stick its head in the sand. Too much has occurred for us to retreat from our responsibilities now. We have been moving toward this point ever since we made First Contact with Earth all those years ago.”
“It would be wrong to reverse our course now,” said Ryjak.
Silence fell.
“I believe we have heard all the pertinent arguments and have all the necessary facts at our disposal,” said T’Pau finally. “The written proposal submitted by Mr. Baxter—what will become the Federation Charter—is before you.” It was unnecessary to add that only by joining would Vulcan have a voice in the ultimate form the Charter’s provisions would take. “Tuloc, how do you vote?”
“Against.”
“T’Meni?”
“In favor.”
“V’Kemp?”
“Against.”
“Salek?”
“Against.”
“Ryjak?”
“In favor.”
“T’Las?”
“In favor.”
“It would appear we are evenly divided,” said V’Kemp. “T’Pau, as First Minister, how do you vote?”
The time for hesitation had passed. T’Pau said, “It is no longer only our own welfare that concerns us at this point in time. The fate of the Alpha Quadrant may well depend on what we decide today. Therefore, I vote in favor of the proposal.”
Tuloc bowed his head. “It is decided then. We will become a part of the nascent Federation.”
“Perhaps,” Salek said, sounding as if he was attempting to convince himself as much as anyone else, “As an active member, we can guide the Federation towards more efficient uses of their time and energy. Direct them to a more enlightened way of doing things.”
“Expecting enlightenment of others is certain to lead to disappointment,” said V’Kemp.
T’Pau rose to her feet. She did not contradict V’Kemp’s statement.
April was surprised to receive a request for an audience with T’Pau. Leaving Baxter to celebrate the successful completion of their mission, he made his way to the First Minister’s private apartments.
He pondered what he knew of T’Pau of Vulcan, having only seen her that one time before. She had been serving on the High Council for a very long time, from a (for Vulcans) very early age. And over the course of a lifetime of public service, she had also married, raised two children, and after the death of her spouse had briefly disappeared for a time from public life—there had been rumors she’d joined a monastery, or whatever the Vulcan equivalent was—before taking up her duties once more. Diplomat, judge, philosopher—to an outsider, she was the planet Vulcan.
The room in which she chose to receive him was startlingly plain for a head of state, let alone the leader of all of Vulcan. Simple hangings covered the walls—insulating against the cold night winds whipping off the desert as well as the burning heat of the day, April guessed. The floor was bare unpolished stone, the furniture rustic. The only thing of beauty was a golden harp-like instrument on a stand in the corner.
T’Pau herself still wore her robes of state, although she had removed her tall headdress. The effect, however, was no less daunting than if it had still been in place. Her features, in repose, were nothing less than regal. April resisted the effort to bow; he stood still and waited for her to begin.
She waved him to a wooden chair, which April took cautiously. To his surprise, it was comfortable. Of course, he chided himself. Did you really expect her to live like a monk?
“You are undoubtedly curious as to why I asked to see you,” T’Pau said without further preamble.
“Yes, I am.” April took a deep breath. “If this is about Ambassador Baxter’s voicing his assumptions earlier, let me reassure you once again that no disrespect was intended. Perhaps the Ambassador allowed his enthusiasm to interfere with the proper discharge of his duties. As you are well aware, Earth has always valued Vulcan’s friendship, and naturally the idea that Vulcan would not be part of the Federation was unthinkable.”
“A correct assumption, as matters have turned out,” T’Pau said. “Your ambassador is young, of course—a crime that all of us have been guilty of at some point in our lives.”
April smiled briefly. “And one in which the passage of sufficient time and experience ultimately rectifies.”
“Exactly,” said T’Pau. “However, I do wish to make it clear to you exactly what Vulcan’s position and goals are.”
April stiffened involuntarily. Vulcans in general were known as masters of subtlety, and T’Pau herself was famous for having honed it to a fine art. But she had obviously decided that a direct route was preferable here. “The decision to join the Federation—and you should be aware that the vote was a plurality rather than a majority--was reached with the understanding that Vulcan cannot simply step away from our obligations now, as Earth has always looked to Vulcan for assistance, and it would be irresponsible of us to discontinue this.”
April took a bit of umbrage at hearing the relationship between humans and Vulcans put so bluntly, not to mention one-sidedly. “With all due respect, I think the time has long since passed that you can characterize us as simply children looking to an ‘older brother’ for guidance.”
“And yet you do not deny that for a much longer period of time it was true, and in certain areas, such as interstellar relations, continues to be so,” she said. “Are you offended at hearing the truth?”
“No, I’m not,” April said evenly. “But I would like to point out that Vulcan has had interstellar contact with other species for a very long time. And yet, you never tried to form alliances, beyond some standard trade agreements. It was humans who came up with the idea of forming a United Federation Planets, to benefit ourselves and those around us.”
“That is also true,” T’Pau said. “We had no need for such an arrangement.”
“And yet you obviously do now, or you would not have voted for the proposal.”
Another person would have sighed. T’Pau merely said, “That is correct.” She lifted a simple black enameled tea pot and poured two cups, offering him one. “You are an astute observer, Captain.”
April couldn’t help wondering if T’Pau believed the Federation was doomed without Vulcan’s participation. He took a sip from his cup, nearly burning his tongue on the steaming liquid. “And the changed situation which precipitated your decision to join the Federation would be—” he said, when it was clear she was waiting for him to ask.
“That which does not evolve begins to stagnate, and that which stagnates begins to die. Vulcan must move forward. And it is clear that the path is through the Federation, although where that path may lead is fraught with risk.”
April took another sip of his tea, more cautiously this time. He savored the pleasant if unfamiliar taste. “If you’re worried about the direction, surely as a member of the Federation Council you can assure the way matters work out.”
“Whoever occupies the seat granted to Vulcan will be only a single voice.”
“Yet an influential voice,” April pointed out. “I hardly think great weight wouldn’t be given to any opinions you express.”
“I will not be one occupying that seat,” T’Pau said.
April was startled, but managed to put the cup down without dropping it. “It was assumed that the heads of the planetary councils would take on that role as well. I realize the conflict of time may appear to be a terrible inconvenience, but the day–to-day affairs would be, of course, handled by an ambassadorial appointee—”
“Nonetheless, I shall not accept. Perhaps the next Vulcan First Minister may choose to do otherwise.”
“But why are you turning down the request to be a member of the Federation Council, representing Vulcan? As the most powerful member of the Vulcan High Council, surely—” He broke off his words abruptly. “That is your privilege, of course.”
They drank their tea in silence. April sensed she was not yet done with what she had called him here to say.
“Perhaps you are already too occupied with Vulcan’s domestic matters and fear stretching yourself too thin,” he said finally, as he replaced his empty cup and declined a refill.
“Are you suggesting I am currently in my dotage?” T’Pau said, with an uplifted brow.
“To someone else, perhaps I would be,” April said with a small smile. “But not to you.”
“It is a valid assumption to make,” T’Pau said mildly, “But that is not why.”
April was rapidly growing tired of the verbal fencing but plowed on. “Another, perhaps equally valid reason, would be that you do not entirely trust the humans. That you’re concerned about possible ‘contamination’ of the Vulcan way?”
T’Pau came close to a snort. “Hardly,” she said. For all her lack of outward emotion, she was clearly contemptuous of the idea. “The more likely outcome would be that of Vulcans ‘contaminating’ the humans and stymieing their development or, even more so, causing them to proceed in a way against their own natures.”
“I think we’ve moved beyond the point where the Vulcans—or anyone else for that matter—can impose their will on us to the extent of constraining our development or exploration. As for causing the humans to behave more like Vulcans, you say it like it would be a bad thing.”
T’Pau met his gaze evenly. “I have no wish to see humans mimic the Vulcan way.”
“You mean you don’t want to remake us in your image?” April asked wryly.
T’Pau answered, “Your thought processes are too chaotic, emotion rules you still. Based on my own observations of outworlders, I do not think humans have it in them to ever achieve such ‘enlightenment.’”
“You think of us as children,” April said once more, tamping down on the sudden rush of anger he felt. “After all this time, after decades—no, centuries—of cooperation, we are still not to be considered your equals. To you, we’re just small unruly children.”
T’Pau did not disagree with his statement. “The human way works for you. Perhaps it might have been that way for Vulcans as well, earlier in our history, but our passions were too strong and we were on the brink of destroying ourselves and our culture.”
Until the advent of Surak, April understood her to be saying. A sudden old memory surfaced, and he said without thinking, “That strong Vulcan emotion—it hasn’t destroyed the Romulans, has it?”
“Thee asks too much!” T’Pau snapped in the Ancient High Vulcan tongue.
April took a moment to process what she had just said. “I’m sorry if my words offended.” He held up his hands in supplication. “Please, I would like to tell you a story, if I may. It took place more than 50 years ago, an incident which happened very early in my career.”
T’Pau said nothing, and April took her silence for acquiescence.
“I was a pilot, running routine training drills in a small planetary system on the edge of the Romulan Neutral System. From time to time, we would encounter strange alien crafts, darting in and out of sensor range so quickly we couldn’t be entirely sure they weren’t sensor ghosts. One time, I was executing maneuvers high in the atmosphere of the third planet, the only one in the system that was Class M—but with a highly ionized atmosphere. Another vessel suddenly came into view; I had no sooner registered its presence than it opened fire. I don’t know why my sensors didn’t pick it up earlier. Perhaps because of the ionic interference. Anyway, I reacted instinctively, trying to get away, but I couldn’t. I was hit, and as I was going down, I got off a single shot of my own.”
April paused to gather his thoughts. “Luckily, my maneuvering thrusters were still operational and I was able to bring my ship down on the planetary surface. Still, I landed pretty hard; between the weapons fire and the ionic radiation in the atmosphere—well, suffice it to say I wasn’t going anywhere. I hadn’t had a chance to send a distress signal; everything had happened so fast. I knew the chances of someone finding me were pretty small.
“As I was surveying my surroundings, I saw a plume of smoke in the distance. The planet was uninhabited, or so we’d been led to believe. But my options were rapidly dwindling, and so I set out to find the source of that smoke. After hiking for more than half a day, I came across the wreckage of an alien ship. It was small, probably a scout ship. Based on the fact the fires were still smoldering, I guessed that this was the same ship that had fired at me and forced me down. It looked like my own shot had done a lot more damage to him, or perhaps he simply wasn’t as lucky. I managed to sift through the wreckage, looking for anything useful to help me survive. And I found the body of the other pilot.”
April paused. “He was badly burned, and surprisingly, still alive. I freed his upper body, loosened his helmet as it appeared he was gasping for breath. But he died before I could even open the visor.” April took a deep breath of his own. “His facial features were Vulcanoid.”
T’Pau still didn’t say anything.
“Based on my proximity to the Neutral Zone—I had no doubt that I was looking at a Romulan. We never saw their faces, you know, during the war. But now I knew.”
“Such skirmishes as you describe were more common than was widely known at the time,” T’Pau said at last. “This would have been approximately 20 years after the Battle of Cheron?”
April nodded. “The last significant battle of the war.”
T’Pau nodded, with a seeming effort. “The last significant battle, but clearly, there were still other ‘encounters’ that continued for at least a few decades afterward.” Her reticence concerning the alien pilot was palpable.
“I don’t want to press you to speak about something you obviously don’t want to discuss,” April said gently, “But from that incident I guessed at the kinship between Vulcans and Romulans. You were once one people, weren’t you?”
“The split occurred two thousand years ago,” T’Pau said quietly, as if speaking to herself. “It was at the time of Surak, and the Enlightenment. S’Task was the leader of the faction who rejected Surak’s teachings. He and his followers eschewed the suppression of emotion, even when confronted with the costs of its excesses. When it became clear that most of Vulcan would accept Surak, would reject the path to certain destruction, they chose another way.”
“They left and founded Romulus,” April said.
“That is what many of us believe, yes.”
“Is this the real reason why you did not want to maintain a very close association with Earth within the confines of the Federation? Afraid you would therefore come into direct conflict with your long-sundered kin?” April couldn’t stop himself from adding, “Or perhaps you are afraid of what Vulcan might become?”
T’Pau gave him a look that reminded him, once more, of who he was dealing with. “No,” she said levelly. “I do not fear the latter shall happen. I have every confidence in Vulcan and our path, established by Surak millennia before. We are not like our long-sundered brethren. Nor shall we be tempted to turn our backs on what we have become.” Her gaze softened a bit. “Logic would not dictate such actions.”
“Logic,” April said and smiled briefly. “Do you really consider it an even exchange, replacing emotion with just logic?”
“’Just’ logic? You have learned much about my people, Captain, but there is still a great deal you do not know.”
He acknowledged the truth of her statement. “Associating together in the new Federation will undoubtedly provide many opportunities for both our peoples to get to know each other better.”
“The Federation is your initiative; it is time for your people to step up to the task at hand. We do not wish for dominance, we are content to let the humans take the lead in this new Federation, content,” T’Pau said with a hint of slyness, “to continue being the wise ‘elder brother’ giving advice. Perhaps it is the ‘primitive’, uncontrolled human emotion which will be needed to weld so many diverse cultures into one unit, one voice.”
“We’ve certainly had experience with uniting the many diverse peoples populating our own planet,” April said, recalling some of Earth’s darker chapters. The Three World Wars. The Eugenics Movement. “It seems that Earth has had a much bumpier road to that end than the other species we’ve encountered so far.”
“Not as bumpy as Vulcan’s path. But as a student of ancient history, surely you already know that.” T’Pau’s voice carried a note of finality.
April rose to his feet, recognizing the audience was at an end. “So Vulcan will join the Federation,” he said.
“What you humans would undoubtedly refer to as a ‘happy ending,” T’Pau said. “For everyone.”
She had never really answered his question, he realized. Something T’Pau had said earlier in their conversation suddenly shifted into greater importance. “You said something about ‘the next First Minister.’ Are you stepping down?”
T’Pau
nodded. “I am. As with your Federation, it is time for some new
blood to lead our people, in this strange new world you humans are
bent on creating.”
“But why?” April asked, genuinely puzzled. “Even though you will not sit on the Federation Council, you can certainly continue being an influential force on Vulcan.” A sudden thought seized him—could it be she was ill or dying? But her response put that fear to rest.
“I have spent nearly my entire life in service,” said T’Pau slowly, as if she were talking more to herself than to him. “From the very beginnings of my youth, with the dissolution of the first Vulcan High Council and the overthrow of V’Las…I have devoted everything to Vulcan. It is time now for someone else to take on the burden.”
“No once can fault you there, or accuse you of shirking your duties,” April said, understanding. “What will you do now?”
“I shall retire to the monastery at Gol and at last pursue the Kohlinar, the purging of all emotion.”
April was surprised. Did that mean Vulcans still struggle against their emotions? He did not say that out loud, but from the look T’Pau gave him he wondered if she had somehow read his mind.
“I will, however, put some things in place to ensure continuity and policy after I have stepped down,” T’Pau said. With an expression as close to a smile as she could ever bring herself, she added, “I have recommended a minor member of my House, Sarek, as the new ambassador to the Federation and Earth. I think you will find him a most intriguing individual with whom to work.”
“I’m sure we will, First Minister,” April said. He fumbled with his fingers, forming the best approximation of the Vulcan salute that he could. “Live long and prosper, T’Pau.”
Her eyes widened slightly with appreciation. “Peace and long life, Captain April. To you, and to the new Federation.”
FINIS