Part 32 (2/2)
She moved to the lectern at the front of the podium and waited while the Council's leaders called for quiet. A constellation of small red lights snapped on in the shadows on the opposite side of the room, informing her that live subs.p.a.ce feeds of her address were being transmitted throughout known s.p.a.ce.
From her right, Piniero gave her the ready signal.
Speaking to the half-shadowed faces in the gallery and the focused stares of the councillors, Bacco intoned in her most stately voice, ”Members of the Federation Council, foreign amba.s.sadors, honored guests, and citizens of the Federation...this day has been a long time in coming.”
As the glowing text of her speech crawled up a holographic prompter situated just off-center in front of the lectern, Bacco continued almost from memory, delivering the first address in decades that she'd composed without the aid of her chief speechwriter, Fred MacDougan, and his staff, who were all still light-years away from Earth, caught up in postevacuation chaos.
”It is my pleasure and my honor to be able to bring you good news,” she said. ”The Borg threat is over.
”The officers and enlisted crews of three stars.h.i.+ps have done what so much of our marshaled might could not. A joint effort by the Stars.h.i.+ps Enterprise, t.i.tan, and Aventine has turned the tide this day, bringing an end not just to the Borg invasion of our s.p.a.ce but to the tyranny and oppression of the Borg throughout the galaxy.”
Spontaneous, powerful applause and cheering erupted from the gallery and the councillors' tiers. Bacco basked in the roar of approval for a few seconds, and then she motioned for silence. Gradually, the room settled, and she continued.
”In keeping with the finest traditions of Starfleet, these three crews accomplished this not through violence, not through some brute force of arms, but with compa.s.sion. This war has been brought to an end not by bloodshed but by an act of mercy.
”They took a chance on the better angels of their natures, reached out to a new ally, and transformed the Borg Collective into something benign, perhaps even n.o.ble. I am informed that across the Milky Way, trillions of drones have been liberated, their free will restored.”
As quickly as she had earned the room's praise, now she felt its condemnation. Bitter whispers traveled among the councillors, and disapproving noises hissed in the gallery.
”This outcome might feel inadequate to those among us who want revenge on the Borg. I understand, I a.s.sure you. There is no minimizing the scope of the tragedy we have endured. According to even our most conservative estimates, more than sixty-three billion citizens of the Federation, the Klingon Empire, the Romulan Star Empire, and the Imperial Romulan State were slaughtered by the Borg during this invasion.”
She paused to compose herself, and she swallowed to relieve the dryness in her mouth and throat. ”Sixty-three billion lives cut short,” she said. ”The mind boggles at the scope of it. Such a horrific crime against life seems to demand payback, in the form of a proportional response. But we must move beyond hatred and vengeance. The Borg Collective no longer exists, and we must remember that those who carried out its atrocities were victims themselves, slaves taken from their own worlds and their own families. Now the force that controlled them has been disbanded, and its emanc.i.p.ated drones have vanished to points unknown. There is, quite simply, no one left to blame.”
A deep and thoughtful silence hung over the chamber, and Bacco took it as a positive sign as she pressed on.
”Let us instead remember those whose actions have earned our trust and our grat.i.tude. Our staunch allies, the Klingons, stood with us in our hour of need and inspired us with their fearlessness. We witnessed great acts of gallant bravery and sacrifice by stars.h.i.+p crews from the Imperial Romulan State and the Talarian Republic. The Warbird Verithrax sacrificed itself in the defense of Ardana, and the Talarian third fleet was all but destroyed holding the line at Aldebaran, halting the Borg's advance in that sector. These heroic gestures must never be forgotten.” Murmurs of concurrence filled the room.
Bacco found it difficult to read the next portion of her address, but she had no choice. The truth had to be faced.
”It is unfortunate,” she continued, ”that at a time when we should be rejoicing in our victory, we must mourn losses so tragic. It's natural, at a time such as this, for us to think of ourselves. We had not yet completely recovered from the Dominion War, and now dozens of worlds-including Deneva, Coridan, Risa, Regulus, Korvat, and Ramatis-lay in ruins. Dozens more, including Qo'noS, Vulcan, Andor, and Tellar, suffered devastating attacks. And we must remember that the Borg did not discriminate between us and our unaligned neighbors. They inflicted widespread damage on Nausicaa, Yridia, and Barolia. It is all but impossible to quantify the true scope of this calamity, to calculate the unestimated sum of sentient pain.
”In the aftermath of such a monumental catastrophe, the prospect of rebuilding appears daunting. Some might say it's impossible to recover from such a disaster. I say it is not only possible, it is essential. We will rise anew. We will rebuild these worlds, and we will heal these wounds. We will reach out not only to our own wounded people but to those of our allies and our neighbors and even to those who have called themselves our rivals and our enemies.”
Polite applause interrupted her, and she accepted it with a humble nod of thanks and acknowledgment. Then she lifted her voice and declared, ”We will not shrink from the challenge of raising back up what the Borg have knocked down. We will honor the sacrifices of all those who fought and died to defend us, by committing ourselves to repairing the damage that's been done and creating a future that they would have been proud of.
”We will also rebuild Starfleet, to guarantee that all we have gained, with so much suffering and sacrifice, shall be preserved and defended.”
This time, the clapping and cheering from the gallery were thunderous. Emboldened, she spoke more strongly, punching her words through the clamor.
”More important, though Starfleet is needed for recovery and reconstruction and to render aid, we will renew our commitment to its mission of peaceful exploration, diplomatic outreach, and open scientific inquiry. The Luna-cla.s.s stars.h.i.+ps will continue-and, in t.i.tan's case, resume-their missions far beyond our borders: seeking out new worlds, new civilizations, and new life-forms and offering, to those that are ready, our hand in friends.h.i.+p.
”There are those who might doubt our ability to do all of these things at once. To them, I would say, don't underestimate the United Federation of Planets. Just because we have suffered the brunt of the injuries in this conflict, do not a.s.sume that we are weak or vulnerable. Don't mistake optimism for foolishness or compa.s.sion for weakness.
”With patience and courage, this can become a time of hope. As long as we remain united, we will emerge from these dark and hideous days into a brighter tomorrow, and we will do so stronger, wiser, and safer than we were before. Together, we can become the future that we seek and build the galaxy we want to live in. It will not come about quickly or easily. But until it does, never flinch, never weary, and never despair.
”Thank you, and good night.”
Bacco stepped back from the lectern as the chamber shook with deafening applause. Shading her eyes with one hand, she saw that the councillors and the visitors in the gallery all were standing as they delivered their roaring ovation. She waved to both tiers of councillors, then to the far end of the room, before Piniero and Wexler coaxed her to leave the podium and follow them out of the Council Chamber.
Her entourage, including security adviser Jas Abrik, fell into step around her as they moved to the exit and quick-stepped into the hallway beyond.
Only once they were through the door did Bacco realize that the corridor was now lined with members of the press. Questions were shouted at her from both sides, the words overlapping into a muddy wash of sound. Jorel and Piniero repeatedly hollered back, ”No comment! No questions, please!”
At the far end of the hallway, Wexler and Kistler ushered Bacco and her senior advisers into a secure turbolift, then stepped in after them, placing themselves directly in front of the doors as they closed, m.u.f.fling and then erasing the hubbub of pestering press run amok.
Bacco sighed heavily. ”Thank G.o.d that's over.”
Kant Jorel replied, ”It went well, Madam President.”
”Yes, Jorel, I know. I was there.”
Rebuked, he bowed his chin. ”Yes, ma'am.”
”It was a wonderful speech, ma'am,” Piniero said.
”It was all right,” Bacco replied. ”If Fred and his people had been here to polish it, it would've been great.” She threw a pointed look at Abrik. ”Whose idea was it to put them all on the transport to Tyberius? Was it Iliop? I'll throttle him.”
He replied, ”No idea, ma'am, but I thought the Churchill homage at the end was a nice touch.”
”Absolutely,” Piniero agreed. ”It's what people needed to hear.”
Frowning, Bacco replied, ”It's what I needed to hear.” The pressure of the past month, far from being lifted, only seemed to weigh heavier on her shoulders. ”The Borg are gone, but now everything else is up for grabs.”
Abrik tilted his head sideways. ”There's certainly the potential for a period of instability.”
She looked at the middle-aged Trill as if all his spots had just fallen off. ”Instability? When there's a water shortage on Draylax, that's cause for instability. We've got a dead zone for a hundred light-years in every direction around the Azure Nebula. More than forty percent of Starfleet's been destroyed. Sixty-three billion people are dead. Deneva's been wiped out, and our economy's about to implode. We're long past unstable. When the shock of all this wears off, I think we'll look back on the last sixteen years with longing and envy.”
The turbolift doors opened onto the top floor, and the group stepped from the lift into the lobby outside Bacco's office. Wexler and Kistler entered the presidential office first. They stepped clear of the doorway to let Bacco, Abrik, Jorel, and Piniero file in, and then the two agents faded into the woodwork, as always.
Bacco stepped behind her desk and looked out the panoramic window at the nighttime cityscape of Paris. She was filled with a sense of foreboding, a feeling that there was always some new evil lurking in the darkness. ”It's a whole new ball game,” she said. ”But we have no idea who's playing-or what the rules are.”
Piniero grinned and replied with a shrug, ”That's what keeps the job interesting, ma'am.”
EPILOGUE.
Mourners moved in slow packs, their steps leaving crisp prints in the fine-ground regolith of pulverized stone and flesh. Tuvok noticed that the graphite-colored powder stuck to everything-his boots, his pants, his wife's shoes, the hem of her jacket, the tips of her close-cropped hair.
He had seen Deneva's lush Summer Islands years earlier, when they had boasted pristine white beaches, dazzling cities, and a thriving culture of visual arts and live music. It had been a vibrant, stimulating, and prosperous place.
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