"How are you feeling, sir?" asks the butler, a bald man adorned in black pants, white shirt, a black coat, and a black bowtie.
"Fine, Jarvis," replies Jonathan. "As fine as any man my age can feel."
"Here is your orange juice, sir. Your main breakfast will be ready."
Archer looks at the two MACO guards standing there. A MACO security detachment has been assigned to him ever since last fall. And they are posted to him for this day.
It is this day that he will be inaugurated as President of the United Federation of Planets at noon Paris time.
Jonathan looks at an analog clock mounted on the plaster wall. It is less than four hours before he takes the oath of office.
He had first learned that he would become the Federation's next president during last fall's caucuses. He certainly has an impressive resume-CO of the first Warp 5 vessel, chief of staff of the Federation Starfleet, ambassador to Andoria, Federation councilman. The Federation High Council vote that gave him a four-year term as President merely made it official.
"Your eggs and toast, sir," says Jarvis. "And of course your medicine."
Jonathan eats his breakfast. He likes his personal chef, though the chef does not even come close to the chef he had during his tour of duty on Enterprise. The last time he visited the ship, now a museum on the grounds of the Presidio, was just after he was elected.
Just after swallowing his pills, Archer wealks back into his bedroom. His personal belongings will soon be moved to the presidential palace. He opens the closet and takes out a suit that he had purchased for this occasion, still in its plastic wrapping. Removing his pajamas, he puts on the white shirt and black pants. He takes out a necktie, colored blue like the Starfleet uniform he wore and with the Enterprise logo printed on it, and ties it around his neck. He then places the sleeveless vest over his shirt and then the black coat over his vest. He takes a look at the mirror. He looks very presidential, he thinks.
"Well, Trip," he says. "Here I go."
His service on board the Enterprise seems so long ago, back when there were fewer wrinkles on his face, and his hair was brown instead of bright white. He leaves his bedroom and faces the MACO guards who wait for him.
"I guess I'll be heading to the council chamber now," he says.
"The car's waiting for you, sir," replies the MACO staff sergeant, facing the man who will become his commander-in-chief in a few hours. "Better put a coat on, sir. It's very cold outside."
President-elect Jonathan Archer puts on a heavy outer coat walks out through the front door of his Paris home. He is instantly bitten by the cold air. He steps inside a waiting limousine.
"Ready, Mr. President?" asks the driver.
"Straight and steady," says the President-elect.
The black limousine pulls from the curb, escorted by police and military vehicles.
ooooooooooooo
The Federation Hall, where the Federation High Council meets, sits right at the edge of the Seine River in Paris, France. The council meets to make laws and approve treaties for the United Federation of Planets. Councilors from the Federation member worlds meet here. The building itself is a dome, and was constructed less than twenty years before.
The limousine carrying President-elect Jonathan Archer stops at the curb, flanked by police motorcycles. Two Federation Hall police officers, wearing bluer coats and blue pants, open the door. Jonathan steps out with his MACO escort. Photographers take pictures of him as he walks to the doors to the Federation Hall. The police keep back onlookers.
Archer enters the front lobby, covered in black granite tile. Marble columns hold up the vaulted ceiling. The design seems to be a hybird of various alien cultures. Archer remembers that architects from six different worlds worked on this building. More photographers with their cameras, all from different species of people, take pictures of Jonathan as he is about to take the oath of office.
Having served as Federation councilman, Jonathan knows his way around. He walks through the hallways to make it to the speaker's podium. It feels almost as if the Federation Hall grew in size since he first served here. Then again, he is rapidly approaching eighty.
After a few minutes, he finally makes it to the podium. He looks and sees the Federation Councilors, all of various species. He notices Vulcans, Andorians, Tellarites, Denobulans, as well as his own people.
A human wearing a black robe approaches the president-elect. "Say the oath," he says.
"I, Jonathan Jackson Archer," says the president-elect, "do solemnly swear that I will uphold the Articles of the Federation, the resolutions passed by this honorable ouncil, to faithfully execute to the best of my ability the duties of my office, and to defend the United Federation of Planets from all threats, external and internal."
"I introduce to you President Jonathan Jackson Archer."
The councilors all clap their hands or analogous appendanges.
"I hereby open this session of the Federation High Council," says President Archer, tappin the microphone. "I am honored to serve as President of the United Federation of Planets. We have been through a lot these past twenty years. All of us, from different worlds and different cultures, striving for out goal for a peaceful galactic order, bringing peace, safety, justice, and security to our homes.
"On behalf of our peoples, I want to thank my predecessor for his service to this Federation. I want to thank each of you who were sworn into this session of the Federation High Council, and I want to thank those of you who are new here. Believe me, I have been in your position. Most important, I want to thank those whose sacrifices made this moment possible."
Jonathan reflects on those who served under him, who gave their lives during the Enterprise's missions, from exploration to finding the Xindi to doing battle with Romulan warships. Shadows of the past parade before his mind's eye, and emotions briefly surface to his heart.
He takes a deep breath and continues on with his speech which his speechwriter spent a month working on.
ooooooooooooo
After his speech, Jonathan Archer enters the black limousine which takes him to the Federation Presidential Palace just down the street from the Federation Hall.
"Welcome, Mr. President," says a man in a business suit. "Allow me to escort you to your office."
The man leads Archer into the palace. Jonathan looks at the architecture-a fusion of different architectural styles from different cultures. This palace belongs to all peoples of the Federation, not just Earth. Jonathan walks along the carpet. Two aides open two wioodeon doors.
Archer is familiar with this place. This is the President's office. The back wall is a huge window. Archer can see a large portion of Paris, incvluding the Eiffel Tower.
Sseveral people walk into the room. They are here to deliver his first national security briefing as President. Jonathan recognizes Admiral Travis Mayweather, the Chief of Starfleet Operations, and Malcolm Reed, the national security advisor. Along with them is the MACO commandant, the Secretary of Starfleet, the Secretary of Foreign Affairs, and the director of Section 31.
"Sir, we've just received an update on the Klingon Empire," says Malcolm Reed. "Apparently, there was a coup."
"When did this happen?" asks the President.
"Just yesterday, sir."
"We've acquired video footage," says the Secretary of Foreign Affairs, a woman in her late forties with tightly curled black hair.
An aide presses a button on an electronic remote control. An image appears on a screen. Jonathan sees a man and hears him in the Klingon tongue. The emblem of the Klingon Empire is printed on a standard hanging on the wall behind the man.
He notices the man's forehead is smooth, smoother than his own wrinkled forehead. He touches his forehead as he looks at the Klingon.
"Put that in English please," he says.
"Sure, Mr. President," says the aide.
"Today is the dawn of a new era for the Klingon Empire," says the smooth-headed Klingon on the video screen. The old regime has brought the stain of dishonor to our people and nearly destroyed us. As Chancellor, I swear that , we will restore honor and become a galactic power once more!"
"Travis," says Archer, "send some ships within one light-year of the Klingon border."
"Yes, sir," replies the admiral.
The briefing continues as Jonatahn Archer learns more about events in this section of the Milky Way Galaxy. Even in his old age, the President still has a keen mind, asking detailed questions.
"Thank you," Jonathan says to all of them.
"See you at the inaugural ball," replies Malcolm.
Jonathan Archer then walks behind his desk and sits on the leather seat.
"Congratulations, Mr. President," says a voice.
Jonathan looks and sees a balding man standing in front of the door, wearing a suit. He recognizes him even though it had been thirty years since their last encounter.
"Daniels," he says.
"I just wanted to congratulate you on your inauguration," says Daniels. "Although it is ancient history for me, I felt I had to come here and personally extend my congratulations. We've had a working relationship."
"So you are not here to ask a favor?"
"There are no temporal incursions from my future into this area of spacetime," says the temporal agent.
"What of the recent events in the Klingon Empire?"
"Oh that. The Ba'Klagh period, a period in Klingon history where a race of smooth-headed Klingons seized control of the Empire and ruled for nearly a century."
"I've had encounters with the smooth-heads." Archer recalls that time thirty years ago, when a project to create genetically-engineered Klingon warriors resulted in a plague. Dr. Phlox had found a cure, which had a side effect of removing the distinctive forehead ridges. "How will this affect our relations with them?"
"That is history. I wish you luck."
Jonathan looks and notices the empoty office. It is as if Daniels was never there.
oooooooooo
Thw inaugural ball is held in the Presidential Palace's Grand Ballroom. Hors d'oeuvres are served by waiters wearing white shirts, black bowties, black slacks, and black dress shoes. MACO guards keep watch as the dignitaries all enter the room, dressed in their best outfits.
President Jonathan Archer enters the ballroom, clad in a white tuxedo as bright as his white hair, escorted by two MACO guards in their mess dress uniforms. All of the guests look at the President as he walks along the carpeted floor.
"Would you like stuffed mushrooms, Mr. President?" asks a waiter, a man in his mid-twenties.
"Sure," replies Jonatahn, taking one of the stuffed mushrooms.
"Jonathan," says Soval, a Vulcan dressed in gold-trimmed robes. "Congratulations."
"Thank you," replies the new President. He had known Soval for over thirty years. They did not start out on the best of terms. A series of events during Archer's service as CO of Enterprise led the two men to have a mutual respect for each other.
"You know, I was considering retiring from the council; I decided one more term would not hurt. I can not pass the opportunity to serve under your leadership."
"Congratulations," says a young Vulcan man whom Archer recognizes.
"Thanks," replies Jonathan. "What was your name?"
"Sarek."
"I should remember that."
"I want to congratulate you, Jonathan Archer," says a Vulcan woman with brown hair on her head and wearing a sequined dress.
"You're doing well, T'Pau," replies Jonathan. "I still can't believe you turned down a seat on the council."
"Soval is more qualified than I," replies T'Pau.
"Don't be so modest. Without you this Federation might not even exist."
"You too had a part in forming this Federation."
"Archer," says a voice.
Jonathan looks and sees a blue-skinned man with white ahir and two antennae attached to his head.
"How are you doing, Shran?" he asks.
"As well as any man my age," replies the retired Andorian general. "You seem to be doing well."
"How is your daughter?"
"She's currently studying in what you would call a college," replies Shran.
"Trip would have loved to hear that," Archer says, remembering his long-departed friend.
Jonathan walks around, shaking hands with the dignitaries whom he invited to this ball. He then spots a nuch of people he had worked with on and off for nearly a decade.
"T'Pol," he says.
"Jon," says a Vulcan woman with graying brown hair. "You are well."
Jionathan embraces his former first officer. "How's the family?" he asks.
"I'm still happily married," she says. "My husband and children are my joy."
"Mr. President," says a woman in her fifties with long black hair. "Congratulations."
"Thanks, Hoshi," replies Jonathan. "How are you doing?"
"I have my teaching job, still married," replies the former Starfleet lieutenant commander. "I have my struggles."
"Don't we all."
"I guess your biggest struggle is about to begin," says Admiral Travis Mayweather.
"I srtill have life in me, Travis," replies Jonathan. "I'm not retiring just yet."
"By the way, I have ten ships near the Klingon border. We're keeping a constant watch on them."
"Enough about work. How is your life?"
"You mean my personal life?" asks Travis. "Fine, sir. I like coming home. Just as Mrs. Mayweather."
"I wish you well," says Malcolm Reed, dressed in a black tuxedo."It's an honor to be here."
"I'm glad you're doing well, Malcolm," replies Jonathan.
"Mr. President," says a voice.
"Phlox," says Jonathan, looking at the Denobulan wearing a black outfit.
"If you want to know, Jon, I'm doing very well. I was visting with my son and his two children a week ago. I still have my medical practice. I'm now a director of a hospital in Denobula."
"I'm gladf you could make it Phlox."
"They understood. After all, the new President of the Federation was requesting my attendance here."
Jonathan then spends more time greeting the dignitaries. A few hours later, he and his former crewmates all sit around a table covered in a white cloth. They all hold champagne glasses fileld with champagne.
"I'm glad we're all here," says the new President. "We've all been through a lot together- exploring space, saving Earth from the Xindi, fighting the Romulans. We'ree all lucky to be here. I want to propose a toast to Commander Charles Tucker III. He wanted us to be happy, to continue living. To overcome our struggles within and without, and to celebrAate our victories with those we care about."
A brief flash of sorrow erupts to the surface of their hearts as they recall the moment when they learned that the Enterprise engineering officer and good friend had died.
"To Trip," everyone says as they tocuh their champagne glasses.
oooooooooooo
President Jonathan Archer shuts off the lights as he lies down in his bed in the Presidential Palace. He remembers his service on board Enterprise. He recalls those who have gone- his father, Maxwell Forrest, Erika Hernandez, and Trip. And he remembers those still here- T'Pol, Malcolm Reed, Travis Mayweather, Hoshi Sato, Phlox, and others he had served with through times peaceful and otherwise. He knows that this is not the end, this is just the beginning.
For tomorrow, he thinks as he drifts into sleep.