FAILED IDEALISM

The current of suspense pervaded Subcommander Cheryl Augusta Major's mind, and this time was fed by the voice in her head. Probably she was not suspenseful enough.

Did Ra-ghoratreii know all about Section 31?

This was the question she kept asking herself. Slowly but surely, on the other hand, did the voice start to direct the suspense in a new direction.

Is there the possibility that Ra-Ghoratreii – the one man who personally signed the Khitomer Accords with the Klingon Empire many a year later – also was of Section 31 himself?

For a moment that seemed like an eternity, the young woman directed her thoughts to the new question asked in her head. On the other hand, all the knowledge she had up to that point would have gone completely against this new line of thought.

That's impossible! Section 31's left hand should know what its right hand is doing, and vice versa!

What of groups within Section 31 itself, then?

This is conspiracy-theory garbage!

Section 31 epitomized conspiracy theory itself.

It sure did.

All the while did she pay little attention to the old man in front of her, underestimating his cognitive abilities once more. Then, actual sound broke the physical silence in the room.

"During the peace negotiations, he didn't do much to try to salvage them, knowing full well that they would break down; he withdrew from his idealism."

Subcommander Major's attention was directed at the classified records control panel once more. For now, those records would tell of a leader still steeped in his idealism.

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Babel was not exactly the best place to salvage diplomatic relations with the Klingon Empire, let alone through distance diplomacy more suited for the reclusive Rihannsu. The Chancellor of the High Council initially demanded for the diplomatic maneuvers to be made on Qo'noS. Apparently seeing through the sheer arrogance of this man – whom Cartwright would certainly have called a "veQ" face to face – Kenneth Wescott feigned the impression of needing more time before the diplomacy took place. That impression, he later told his aides, served two purposes: to find out why his opposite was so arrogant, and to find an alternative diplomatic venue.

On the first issue, he found out about his opposite's paranoia regarding space travel.

If I were the target of that many assassination attempts through sabotage – as well as struck that many times by the lightning of life-threatening ship problems beyond sabotage – I would do the exact same thing.

On the second issue, all but one of his aides suggested distance diplomacy between the two of them, but then pressured him to personally appear from Babel, the most prestigious diplomatic venue in the quadrant.

Most of the diplomatic facilities are being renovated. How can I save myself from the kowtow-of-an-embarrassment that my advisers have led me to? Oh well, at least the misery can be shared with that Ambassador Kamarag!

Then, he remembered the one thing that would prevent the ambassador from sharing his misery: that Klingons would not be bothered at all by hectic conditions such as the renovations, just as they would feel right at home with Spartan living conditions. If anything else, such conditions would keep Ambassador Kamarag psychologically focused on the task at hand, and away from succumbing to the architectural enhancements that made Babel more prestigious than even Camp Khitomer. If anything else, such conditions could possibly entice the unusually crafty ambassador to scheme to further embarrass him in full view of the Chancellor himself.

Fortunately for Wescott, that one aide of his who did not suggest appearing from Babel - Ra-ghoratreii himself – was there to act as a potential foil for any of the ambassador's verbal schemes.

----------

For a moment, the young woman could afford a chuckle that would brush aside all the questions and all the suspense.

If only Wescott had appreciated the humour surrounding his circumstances… if only my uncle could appreciate the humour surrounding Wescott's circumstances… if only…

Perhaps the old man is tempted to chuckle.

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The time had come for distance diplomacy. In the center of a vast communications room stood the youngest president in the Federation's history, facing an enormous communications screen and with a communications console immediately in front of him. To his right stood his young Efrosian aide. To his left stood the unusually crafty Klingon ambassador and his two immediate aides. Behind them all stood those Federation aides who suggested the distance diplomacy that was about to transpire, and in a distant corner was a second communications console, one manned by an assistant.

The screen, which initially showed the seal of the very Federation whose fundamental laws Kenneth Wescott swore to preserve, protect, and defend upon his inauguration, showed the seal of what could eventually become the great enemy, should this attempt at salvaging diplomatic relations between the two interstellar powers fail. It then showed a visual of Wescott's opposite, the Chancellor of the High Council.

An unusually lengthy pause followed. Both heads of state were patiently expecting the other to initiate the dialogue. Wescott did not want to initiate it himself, having also found out that his opposite's arrogance, while providing a good cover for a deeper paranoia, was also an honest disposition. He felt that the waiting game on both their parts would serve to humble his opposite.

Suddenly, the look of patience on the face of the Chancellor of the High Council gave way to one of frustration.

"So, Mr. President, how long shall we stare at each other across the vast reaches of space? The Klingon Empire is tired of words, of negotiation, of the endless delaying tactics of the Federation!"

A look of surprise overtook the president's face in response to the tone in his opposite's voice. It started out in the expected tone of arrogance before transforming into an unexpectedly bellicose tone. Furthermore, the voice itself was not synthesized. To Wescott, it seemed that the Chancellor's opening words in plain English were a blatant attempt to insult the linguistic capabilities of every non-Klingon in the room.

My, oh my. Cartwright was right about one thing: what a Klingon "husky" you really are!

He knew he had to respond with at least one word in their language. He decided upon the Klingon word for "chancellor."

"As you know, Qang, there is another alternative to this waiting game in your vain hope of receiving a verbal kowtow on my part…"

To his surprise, Wescott felt a right arm pressed against his chest, pushing him backwards slightly. Apparently, Ambassador Kamarag had stepped forward in an attempt to gain an immediate audience with the one whom he servilely swore absolute obedience to many a year ago. He then started barking in tlhIngan Hol, the language of the Klingon people.

Meanwhile, Ra-ghoratreii leaned towards Wescott's ear and started translating the Klingon ambassador's words, even while knowing that everyone in the room was equipped with a universal translator.

"Sir, the so-called 'Klingon devil' to your left is obsequiously begging for forgiveness from the 'honoured' Chancellor for his inability to 'teach' you to 'pay respectful attention' and beforehand give your so-called 'verbal kowtow' as an apology for not travelling all the way to Qo'noS."

A slight smirk showed on Wescott's face when he heard the Chancellor barking back towards his overly servile ambassador. The president could tell that the disturbed Chancellor meant to interrupt Ambassador Kamarag, all the while listening to the dubbed translation of his opposite's words in a synthesized voice, which was unexpectedly not unlike that of his opposite, given the advanced translation technology embedded within the communication systems in the room.

"You petaQ jay'! Who told you to speak out of your place?"

Ambassador Kamarag issued an apology before stepping back.

Well, at least that eliminates the potential for him to embarrass me in full view of the Chancellor himself.

"Mr. President, you of all people know the Klingon Empire's reasonable conditions for the continued peaceful coexistence between our two interstellar powers…"

Reasonable? Yeah, I'll bet!

Wescott turned his head and eyes to take a glimpse at the Klingon ambassador to his left, who in his expectedly servile behaviour in full view of his superior was nodding continuously. What surprised the president, though, was that the ambassador's two immediate aides were also nodding.

Major suck-ups, indeed!

"Mr. President, we find the Federation's request that we cede outright the Khitomer sector and an appropriate passage corridor to it – albeit in exchange for the Federation ceasing all protests and countermoves regarding our 'illegal' military buildup in the Archanis sector, as well as for Federation recognition of Klingon jurisdiction over the Capella, Donatu, Organia, and Tellun star systems – rather insulting and provocative. Don't you realize that our claim to Khitomer and the surrounding territory is both ancient and indisputable? Klingon blood was spilled to conquer that entire sector. Read your history textbooks!"

For a moment, Wescott was tempted to take a condescending glimpse at the continuously nodding Klingons to his left, but felt the need to press his points immediately.

"Overall, Mr. Chancellor, this deal is much more beneficial to your people than it is to mine. I suggest you give me a few seconds right now to dismiss everyone else in this room so that I can speak with you alone on this matter."

As the president spoke, he lifted both his arms and pointed them sideways as a gesture for everyone to leave the room.

"Very well."

Wescott could see his opposite signalling everyone near him to leave before turning to face the screen.

"Oh, and Ambassador Kamarag, leave him now!"

----------

The young woman was contemplating what was about to happen. She knew that what was about to transpire next would lead to little more than a Klingon ultimatum. Nevertheless, she admired this Section 31 agent for his resolve.

----------

Kenneth Wescott stood alone in the communications room. Even the assistant who manned the more distant of the room's two communications consoles left. While in public diplomacy he felt that his humility was more of a liability, the privacy now afforded him by the empty room turned that liability into an asset.

"Now, allow me to be candid with you, SIR. I know personally the history behind your understandable paranoia regarding space travel, but I also know your unreasonable arrogance. While none who were in this room, and even Starfleet Intelligence itself, are aware of the strategic implications of these negotiations, I am! I know, and I'm sure your intelligence advisers know as well, of the Elasian dilithium deposits within the Tellun star system, which the Klingon Empire needs much more than the Federation does."

The Chancellor jerked forward angrily.

"How do you know? Some traitor within my ranks?"

"If there were such, I would have been a party to this information much earlier, and Starfleet Intelligence would have known about all this by now. If you'll allow me to continue sharing my knowledge of the strategic situation with you…"

A look of reluctance showed on the Chancellor's face.

"Very well!"

"Good! From here on in, I will refer to the Klingon designation for the period of time beginning with year 1 of your people's calendar – Imperial Reckoning – instead of the Common Era of our current calendar."

Perhaps now the Chancellor will be in a mood to talk!

Indeed. The look of reluctance on the Chancellor's face gave way to one of satisfaction.

"Well, well, well! This, Mr. President, has so much more value to me than the 'verbal kowtow' I had expected from you earlier! Go on."

Kenneth Wescott then summoned the words in his mind to his mouth, while curiosity overtook the Chancellor.

"While most within our respective intelligence communities know of the relatively precarious security situation of your primary energy production facility near the Romulan border – and I'm sure this is why your intelligence community has suggested securing the Elasian dilithium deposits and lesser deposits along our mutual border – even they do not know what I and a select few in the entire Federation, and perhaps even in the Klingon Empire itself, know: that your overall energy production capability is very precarious, even when faced with rising demand."

Suddenly, Wescott's opposite surprisingly showed anger.

"You lie!"

Don't be so preposterous!

"Sir, there are three problems factoring in all of this! I have alluded to the one of interstellar security, and here is where Khitomer comes in. Starfleet, upon hearing the possibility of Khitomer changing to Federation jurisdiction, drafted quite quickly plans to establish key starbases and outposts in that sector and to extend our sophisticated long-range sensor networks along the Federation-Romulan border to the Khitomer sector itself, thus enabling us to track Romulan movements across the Neutral Zone more effectively."

There was a short pause, since the Chancellor was absorbing the words being said.

"And how does this benefit us?"

Benefit indeed!

"We have the classified sensor technology that enables us to monitor potentially hostile Romulan movements toward your primary energy production facility nearby. In turn, we will relay such movements immediately to your adequate defense fleets, outposts, and starbases near that facility, not wanting to tilt the balance of power towards the one interstellar power the Federation's members have already fought a full-scale war with."

You know, I came into these talks expecting that they would break down, and yet I'm surprised that the elderly statesman who is on that screen has taken my humility very seriously. Perhaps there is a slim chance the talks will end up in something productive.

"Tal'Ihnor is certainly a star system worth paying attention to, but a Federation-controlled Khitomer will allow your fleets to be within striking range of it!"

Good point? Not!

"Even in their present patrol positions, you and your intelligence community should already know by now that elements of Starfleet's First Fleet are already within sufficient striking range of Tal'Ihnor! This is where your military buildup in the Archanis sector comes in: at the present, I can see that it is little more than a salient that can be easily overrun…"

The Chancellor growled slightly upon hearing those words.

"However, with sufficient defenses – starbases, outposts, defense satellites, and so on – your salient can be turned into an easily defendable position from which to launch decisive retaliatory attacks on our territory, should we somehow feel inclined to do the same on your territory from our position at Khitomer."

A longer pause followed, since Wescott himself needed a few deep breaths.

"In spite of all this, although the securing of many – if not most – of the dilithium deposits along our mutual border may or may not address this problem of yours in part, there are two more problems."

"Go on!"

"While I am aware of the innovativeness of Klingon military science, it has been the contrary with regards to energy production efficiency for the past century. Starting sixteen years ago, in fact, energy production surpassed mineral extraction as the single largest contributor to the Klingon Empire's aggregate economic output."

"Why haven't my non-military advisers told me of this?"

"Perhaps because they think wrongfully that the increased aggregate economic output resulting from bigger increases in energy production is a good thing. This leads to the third problem, which is one closer to you than you think."

Now it seemed to the younger of the two statesmen that there was more than just a slim chance for the talks to end up in something really productive.

"Oh? And what would that be?"

"You need only look at your recent history regarding Praxis, sir. Early in this 16th century of your Imperial Reckoning, your homeworld's sole moon fell victim to more serious and frequent mining accidents, while at the same time yielding over a third of its mass to mining operations. Just after you yourself took power over an entire generation ago, a recognizable portion of the moon's southern hemisphere collapsed in a large explosion which was equally recognizable from the surface of Qo'noS in the broad daylight. Afterwards, several ecological calamities rocked the moon's structure to the point where you yourself forbade the construction of new mines on that world and ordered immediate efforts to strengthen the moon's weakening structural integrity… seven years ago…"

"You sound like a computer library!"

"The point, sir, is that Starfleet has the structural integrity field technology that your people desperately need for Praxis! Seven years is too long a timeframe to address this type of problem, and I know of your continuous lack of government funds needed to rectify the pollution problem on that moon."

The Chancellor then became further upset at what he perceived to be the diplomatic equivalent of a dishonourable Klingon merchant's sales pitch, not to mention the additional excess knowledge which he himself did not know of at all.

"Bah! Our scientists and engineers will have solved this problem on their own by the end of our next five-year plan – in eight years' time! Oh, and what will prevent our intelligence services from duplicating or stealing outright your structural integrity field technology?"

I don't think this unreasonably arrogant Klingon understands the full ramifications. Will he ever?

"Sir, even if your intelligence agents successfully duplicated or stole outright our technology, your scientists and engineers could only develop fully an equivalent compatible with Klingon technology in four years' time, and that is because we know more about civilian Klingon technology than you do about our equivalent. By then, however, it will be too late. In spite of your measures, without that technology, the probability that Praxis will explode outright before the end of your current 'five-year plan' is astronomically high. Such an explosion has been projected to cause deadly pollution to your very homeworld's ozone, pollution that will deplete that ozone completely approximately fifty years afterwards."

After those words, a prolonged pause occurred, the longest throughout this private conversation.

That should get his attention.

Indeed. A smile showed on the Chancellor's face, but the president could tell that things were about to turn for the worse.

"You know, I was long ago tired of dishonourable Klingon merchants making sales pitches for their petty goods on the streets during my childhood and adolescence. Hear these five official demands well, Mr. President: We demand that you drop your childish demand for the Khitomer sector and the related passage corridor! We demand that you cease all protests and countermoves regarding our rightful military buildup in the Archanis sector! We demand that you share with us your 'sophisticated long-range sensor network' technology for development and deployment along our borders, as well as the technology needed to improve our energy production efficiency! We demand Federation recognition of Klingon jurisdiction over all disputed star systems along our mutual border! Most of all, we demand that you share with us your structural integrity field technology! Let there be no mistake and no misinterpretation of my words! If your Federation wants war by not meeting all these demands, then that will be its problem! It is up to your Federation to decide whether there will be war or peace!"

So much for the negotiations.

"Since you have inadvertently quoted a rather boorish historical figure in Earth's past, allow me to paraphrase his foil: Then, Mr. Chancellor, there will be a war. It will be a cold, long winter."

Wescott pressed a button on his communications console, and the image of the Chancellor was then replaced by one of the Federation's seal.

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The young woman was still in the midst of absorbing the material of the classified records, but she knew what was about to happen next.

Now things will get rather interesting.

Indeed.