Chapter 14: Acamarian Abyss
“Freedom of the Stars is not a warm blanket you can cosy up into, mister president! It is what the crew of the Buniak died defending from Acamarian tyranny!” – Nafros Xaall
“Th’rhahlat would have loved this.” – Ryn Ch'Shukar
“Th’rhahlat would have loved this.” – Ryn Ch'Shukar
The Gathering Storm
Paris was in full mourning on May 10th. Th’rhahlat’s funeral train had begun its journey from Edinburgh on the 8th, travelling along East Coast Travel Lane from Waverley at a sedate 100 kilometres per hour to London. The body lay in state there for a day, allowing the Andorian community to view his casket; the queue at St. Pancras was long enough that several thousand people were turned away. An equal throng of mourners would greet the train at the Gare de Nord on the 9th, lining the streets from the station to the Palais de Concorde’s atrium. Th’rhahlat would lie there, in the same spot that Jonathan Archer had lain sixteen years beforehand, overnight.
The next day was overcast, with rain forecasted, and yet the route of the procession to The Panthéon was packed with mourners, some in traditional black, others in Andorian mourning robes. Starfleet Officers and Federation Marines in ceremonial dress lined the route as the coffin, surrounded by an honour guard, began its journey. As they arrived on the south bank of the river, it began to rain, soaking the marines of the 1st Regiment through. A few struggled on the Parisian cobbles but persisted through the rain as they pass the Jardin de Luxembourg. The rain abated as the procession arrived at the Panthéon. As they arrived at the end of Rue Sufflot and the coffin was raised onto the shoulders of the Marines, the Band of the Blue and Buff’s struck up; the sound of Battle Hymn of the Republic echoed through the silent streets of Paris as President Th’rhahlat – the reformer, the liberator, the man who saved the Federation – was carried to his final resting place through a grim chill drizzle.
Broadhurst would lead the mourning alongside the Fleet Admiral Luteth and Prime Minister Jing. Their eulogies were short, leaving space for the family to speak for themselves; Broadhurst looked distracted for most of the ceremony, constantly looking at his antique digital wristwatch for the time. As the mourners broke up for the Ul-Oiala (an Andorian Wake), he was taken aside by a nervous looking aide. The president disappeared with Luteth into a waiting car that took them to the Palais. Descending to the Situation Room, they were greeted by the grim face of Admiral Rittenhouse, who merely told them. “They’ve fucked it.”
“It” was Operation Barbary Coast, the plan to retake or destroy the six-patrol craft Starfleet had sold to the previous Acamarian government. The vessels were not modern in design, dating back to before the Romulan War, but their equipment included modern sensor arrays, 2nd generation phaser banks, modern pulse phasers and upgraded EB-II warp drives. All this technology was a sensible upgrade for Acamar when the Ruling Council was in power, but now these ships were in the hands of the Banner of Gathering Unity, whose militarist tendencies likely aligned them with the Klingon Empire. With Starfleet Intelligence now suspecting active Klingon involvement in the BGU’s lightning campaign on Acamar, the possibility of critical Starfleet technology falling into the hands of the Imperial navy was a substantial risk. Intelligence from pro-sovereignty forces, however, suggested that the six ships were being laid up in the Timixea anchorage due to a lack of crews.[1] This presented an opportunity that Rittenhouse was loath to turn down.
The plan was primarily (at least, if the inquiry is to be believed) a recovery operation. Three Archer Class ships (USS Lightfoot, USS Totalize and USS Goodwood) would transport 75 marines, 13 engineers and 10 Acamarian officers to Timixea under cover of stolen Acamarian civilian merchant transponders. The strike teams would neutralise the two Franklin class ships and the port tractor arrays, allowing the recaptured Franklins to tow the Powhattan’s into deep space. USS Ranger would act as task force commander, operating on the edge of the system with orders to intervene if the strike force was in danger. At the last minute, Pro-sovereignty forces on Acamar agreed to a diversionary attack on a military installation near the Xupa spaceport, aiming at diverting attention planetside. It was a classic smash and grab job, with all the complexity of the St. Nazaire raid.
Operation Barbary Coast was a horrendously overthought and thoroughly under-prepared. It relied far too much on Acamarian incompetence and luck to succeed, and the assumption that the BGU weren’t bothering to man their ships properly. Even entry into the Acamar system was based upon poorly tuned sensors seeing the Starfleet group as merchant vessels, and not as Starfleet scouts crammed to the bulkheads with UFP Marines. No intelligence on the layout of the anchorage had been verified; the promises of the Acamarians were taken at face value; suggestions of using probes to confirm the location of the six ships were vetoed due to the time it would take to do so. With less than a week to prepare, the strike group – Task Force Ranger – crossed it’s start line without even performing a full sensor scan of the Acamar system. “The order of the day is speed, precision and decision,” remarked Captain Opan of the Ranger. “Or, blow the bastards to buggery and get the fuck out of there,” added Lieutenant Chandler of the Marines. “Sounds easy.”
It went wrong right from the start. The three Archer class ships were detected almost immediately, their stolen transponder codes deterring the BGU patrols for no more than a minute. While the Archers were able to reach the Timixea anchorage, there were only two of the patrol vessels there; one of which (USS Oshawa) was crippled and unmovable. USS Hengist’s marine party would scuttle her with charges after her Captain refused to fire a photon torpedo and risk damaging the Piper. This waste of valuable time allowed the BGU system patrols to catch up with the Starfleet strike force. With the Lightfoot marines now on the second ship and caught in a running battle with the unexpectedly large crew aboard, Totalize and Goodwood would break off to try and fight off the patrol, which included three of the target ships.
Outnumbered and outgunned, Totalize and Goodwood were pushed away from Timixea. Unable to recover her Marine Party, Lightfoot’s commander fled, abandoning 28 marines and 5 Starfleet personnel to their fate. The Marine party, under the Pandrillan Captain Jor Thu’Res Xuqus, managed to cripple the Piper before they were captured by the BGU forces: all of whom were armed with Klingon disruptor rifles. Lightfoot did not make it very far; the former USS Adams would knock out her engines and tow her into transporter range; she was boarded before the Lightfoot’s skipper could initiate a self-destruct order.
Totalize and Goodwood, retreating at full speed towards their planned rendezvous, pleaded with the new Battle Cruiser USS Ranger to come to their aide. Ranger, however, was immobilised by a failure in her warp plasma conduits that restricted her to impulse speeds, the result of a rushed deployment from Starbase 11. Totalize and Goodwood, while fast, were rapidly being overhauled by interceptors that had clearly been upgraded with modern equipment. Totalize, strained by the weight of her passengers and their photonic charges, would suffer a catastrophic fault in her warp matrix; she was lost with all hands on the edge of the system. Goodwood would reach the rendezvous alongside the limping Ranger, which still had enough power to frighten off the Acamarian interceptors.
Starfleet had very little the show for the death of 45 personnel, the capture of one starship, and the loss of 55 Starfleet crew and marines as POWs. The destruction of the ships had been a secondary goal and had come with severe damage to the orbital facilities of Acamar Central, and the interruption of trade flow in the system. The transponder codes from the ostensibly trustworthy exiles had been duds, provided by a compromised source almost certainly working for the BGU. Klingon Command’s reputation for tactical operations had been shattered in its first organised surgical strike.[2] Even worse, Starfleet Intelligence SIGNIT decrypts suggested that the Klingon Navy had moment to moment updates on the entire fiasco: suggesting the presence of either operatives within the BGU’s navy or Klingon vessels in Acamarian Space.[3]
Even worse, the diversionary attack on the ground had, through the complications of the internal politics of the Sovereign Army, escalated in size and scope into a general offensive in the Xupa plain .It now appeared that Starfleet had been the ones engaging in a diversionary attack so they could tip the scales of the Acamarian Civil War. The offensive stalled after several days, before being halted entirely by a BGU counterattack; footage of Sovereignty POWs being carted back from the front filled the evening reports. Further embarrassment came when it emerged that the BGU counterattack had been led by several members of the Hayes Brigade, a collection of ex-Starfleet and FGF soldiers of fortune who had been hired by the BGU to serve as combat “advisors”.[4]
Led by the dashing and deeply unscrupulous Colonel Lang, ex of the United Earth Parachute Regiment, they had defeated the Sovereign army in detail in full view of assembled propaganda cameras from the Klingon Empire. Lang would also inspect the captured Marines of the USS Lightfoot, going as far as to off a cigar to Captain Thu’Res. This footage – along with that of BGU personnel lifting sensitive equipment from the Lightfoot – was sent directly to Federation news sources. Next-day coverage of Th’rhahlat’s funeral was moved to late slots as the “Timixea Incident” dominated headlines.
Recrimination was almost instantaneous. Broadhurst and Rittenhouse – instigators of the disaster – heaped blame onto Captains Opan and Zi of the Ranger and Lightfoot. Zi could not defend herself from behind the bars of an Acamarian prison; Opan would be hauled in front of the Admiralty on May 20th . Solutions to the political debacle were less easy to find. Broadhurst and Rittenhouse’s gambit to save face had collapsed entirely; protestations of non-involvement in Acamarian politics were not easy to sell when Starfleet officers were sitting in POW cages alongside Sovereign Army soldiers, while the BGU Provisional government refused to release them.
Broadhurst’s excuses in Council session on the 20th were not well received. They were good excuses, generally; that the Acamarian general offensive had not been known beforehand; that Starfleet was technically within its legal right to seize the ships back, and that the BGU was not the legally recognised government of the planet anyway. They were all, certainly, truthful statements. What they were not, however, was an explanation for why exactly Starfleet had violated the sovereign space of Acamar by force of arms. “Don’t we have diplomats for this kind of nonsense, Peter?” Asked Nafros Xaall. Under fire from the proto-Unionists for failing in the first place and eschewed by many of the progressive factions for attempting such a callous violation of the interstellar sovereignty (in spirit, at a least), Broadhurst would make a formal promise that “No support, whether diplomatic, military or logistical, will be given to the Legitimate Acamarian Government without the assent of the Federation Security Council.”
It was an atypically concrete Broadhurst promise, which spoke to how exposed he felt in the aftermath of Barbary Coast. Acamar had been his project since the start; guiding the fragile clan-driven world into a model democracy – and future Federation member – had been a subtle ambition of his since his rise to Interstellar Affairs in 2258. With that hope now placed in jeopardy by the Klingons – and his stance on “Democratic Belligerence” seeming increasingly misguided – a promise to uphold the principles of the Prime Directive seemed like the right choice.[5] It was also a blatant lie
For a long time, it was unclear whether the Acamarian government in exile had already begun secret talks with the administration before Broadhurst made his declaration. Certain suggestions around military support and aid had been made to the Federation Charge d’Affaires on Argelius after the exiled government arrived; and that Federation Central took this serious enough to have their representatives flown to earth by the diplomatic cruiser USS Kelcie Mae at top speed; but whether the administration took it seriously before they arrived on earth is difficult to understand.[6] Certainly the complicated politics of Acamar - let alone the Acamarian government in exile – makes it difficult to prove who said what first and how much.[7]
General trends in the source material do, however, point to the defection of General Brill'Tek as the inflection point. Jers’Ai Brill’Tek – a gifted BGU commander with a significant personal following amongst the rank and file of the Gathering Unity had, by the time of Operation Barbary Coast, become increasingly disenchanted with the authoritarian turn of the Gatherer leadership. The encroachment of Klingon “advisors” – as well as a vocal and bitter falling out with General Lang of the Hayes Brigade – made it clear to Brill’Tek that his brief time as the golden boy of the BGU was over. On the 14th of May Brill’Tek would defect, taking nearly 3000 trained troops and an immense amount of stored war materials over to the Sovereignty lines. News of this coup would arrive on earth around the same time as the Sovereignty exiles, but it is distinctly possible that they knew of his defection well before the Federation Press did. Certain readings of Acamarian records suggest that some foreknowledge of Brill’Tek’s plans did exist – and that they may have had an influence on the requests the exiles would make of Broadhurst in the following days.[8]
The exiles would arrive on earth on the 16th of May, establishing themselves in Federation government property in Zagreb before being brought to a formal meeting with Broadhurst on the 19th.[9] This meeting- supposedly a preliminary introduction to the president – would be followed by a large, late-night conference on the 21st May. The official narrative of the Broadhurst government – and the President in his memoir – is that the second meeting was the site of the fateful promise of arms. With his government under the pressure and the Sovereign Officials pushing more and more information about Klingon military encroachment on Acamar, Broadhurst would promise – on the condition of support from the Federation Security Council – to send military aid to the Acamarian “Sovereignite” forces still on the planet.. The promise was more than nebulous “weapons” however: the President’s office would draw up a concrete list of equipment that would be sent: 9,000 Phaser Rifles and Carbines, 300 Photonic Mortars, 220 Armoured Transports and nearly 120 tons of medical and other support equipment. It was small by Starfleet standards, but an immense boon to the Acamarians, who were still largely fighting with Laser Rifles, Particle beam cannons and railgun-launchers. However, these arms shipments were all dependent on a council majority.
This “official” account does not paint Broadhurst in a good light. It certainly makes him seem extremely naïve, especially if he genuinely believed that the Acamarians could be mollified by a promise that had no real legs to stand on and a treaty that he had no legal right to agree to. It also does not explain how the Broadhurst government managed to draw up a formal roster for the shipments in one evening without any preliminary conversations – even if Starfleet Intelligence was aware of the logistical needs of the Acamarians, there is no way that SI could provide a clear enough picture of their shortages to draw up a list with such finality. Worse, this narrative makes no mention of the “cursed document”; the Tri’Lesta Pact.
The Tri’Lesta pact only emerges onto the record in July 2262; it is clear however that this was the crux of the meeting on the 16th. The short treaty, drawn up by Sovereignite Minister Vymor of Tri’Lesta called upon the Federation to agree to “support and recognition in perpetuity for the Ruling Council of Acamar” without specifying what exactly that meant. Worse, it committed that cursory promise of arms to record, and bound the UFP to maintain the Acamarian government in exile “through its eternal struggle for survival.” Broadhurst had no right to sign this treaty; he had no right even to contemplate signing it. And yet, he did. Why exactly he did have confounded many. It was unlikely that the Ruling Council would have gone over to the Klingons or Orion for support; perhaps propping up the Acamarians was, in his mind, the cornerstone of a campaign of brush-war style containment in the region. This does not explain why President of the United Federation of Planets was caught out and tied up by a treaty written by a minor power in a corner of the beta quadrant.
The best approach – followed by Chandra Li and most Interstellar Relations experts since Khitomer - is to understand it as a question of “interstellar self-respect”: that Broadhurst was willing to roll over for the Acamarians because his own IR theory was built on maintaining strong relations with the neutral powers. On a personal level, he had also built his professional reputation on normalising relations with Acamar and this government. Broadhurst did not like breaking promises, and his promises to the Acamarians – whether unspoken in his previous measures of support or concrete in his actual agreements to provide material support – predated that of his promise to the Federation Council.
Broadhurst was also generally convinced that he could always swing the council to his favour. “They are fickle people, like all politicians, but they know I make the right calls when it matters,” he would tell an aide earlier in the year. “The struggle is making the bastards remember that.” The president did not make his initial promise because he intended to go around the council from the start – he made the initial promise because he was certain that, with time, he could convince the council that he had been right all along. [10] It is distinctly possible that Broadhurst believed he could convince the Federation Security Council to ratify his own actions retroactively. This was not out-of-character for Broadhurst: his own knack for predicting the way the council was going was uncanny and had come in handy during the Dak’Rah affair and the crisis over the Strategic Resources Denial Act.[11]
What Broadhurst could not predict, however, was impact of the BGU on his assessment. The Banner of Gathering Unity – now in control of the majority of Acamar’s government centres and population areas – had become vindictive and arrogant in victory. With Sovereign forces scattered to highland areas and less populated continents, the BGU revelled in its newfound power. What it lacked, however, was any interstellar political legitimacy. The Klingon Empire and the vassal states of the ICR may have recognised them as the new government of Acamar, but most Federation members and allied worlds still regarded them as a usurping revolutionary government, one based around a collection of terrorists who had spent the last three years bombing foreign nationals and embassies across the planet.[12]
A rational government with a fragile interstellar position might have made steps to normalise relations or stabilise trade. Unfortunately, the sort of officials and bureaucrats on Acamar who would have made these suggestions to the BGU were the same sort of people that Gathering Unity were sending off to the firing squads as “disloyal clan enemies” of the Acamarian people. The revolutionary government’s internal stability had been maintained almost entirely by the external struggle; now that they were in power, the question of political direction was causing severe divides already.
The provisional government was extremely concerned about maintaining its own legitimacy – less to the interstellar stage and more to its own people; there were no Federation diplomats or Barolian merchants walking the streets of Acamarian cities with laser rifles. The BGU had just fought a 4 year long military campaign to push Federation influence off and allow the Acamarians to dictate terms to foreign powers. Now, with Klingon soldiers and advisors walking the streets, the need to prove the new government’s independence trumped any thoughts of letting the interstellar situation cool off. Flexing the muscles of the BGU in space through aggressive patrolling (often filmed for the benefit of propaganda holo-reels) and cargo seizures made it clear that the hated open door, open book policies of the Sovereign Ruling Council were over.
Many of the early seizures and stops were unauthorised: BGU officers flexing their muscles aboard the Starfleet surplus ships or ex-Klingon cutters wanting to remind merchants who was in charge while filling their pockets. Certainly, the stopping of the S.S. Granus Bay and the E.C.S. Jakarta Starburst had less to do with diplomacy than the debts the captain of the Acamarian cruiser Victor owed, and the cargoes of Dilithium and Pergium both ships carried.[13] After Barbary Coast, however, there was a clear move by the BGU to “encourage” external recognition through intimidation.
The use of “new customs rules” and “security” checks to intercept and detain traffic was blatant power projection by the new government, desperate to prove that it could maintain a monopoly on violence as well as the Star Fleet or Imperial Navy could. It was a nuisance and an irritation at first – a few pilfered cargos, forced bribes and roughing ups by Gatherer soldiers, but as the stopped ships went from a few to a dozen to dozens, it became difficult to ignore. Like a child picking at a scab, the BGU ensured that the wound in the Federation’s side that Acamar represented never really healed – instead, it began to fester, eating into the daily political arguments and pushing the annual “reform debate” aside for the third year in a row.
By the beginning of June, the Merchant Marine had issued advice against doing “all by necessary business” within Acamarian Space; Starfleet Auxiliary traffic had been routed through Barolia, much to the irritations of the Accountancy department who now had to pay out hefty Barolian “military transfer tariffs” for every vessel that moved through their space.[14] Most independent traders – and many merchant marine skippers as well – ignored the advisories. Acamar was still the most convenient waypoint between the Federation Core, Argelius and Klingon space; moving through Barolia added days – sometimes weeks – onto travel time due to subspace currents around the Azure Nebula.[15] For those in a hurry, going through Acamar still seemed like it was worth the risk.
The escalation in trade interdiction seems, on paper, to have been motivated by Klingon machinations. For the government at home, Acamar represented a key battleground internally – one that had, inadvertently, put the entire L’Rell government on the line. The creation of the Imperial Control Region had created more internal problems than it solved. The people – and the aristocracy – had been placated by the external propaganda coups for a while: but even after 4 months, the lack of tangible results from this “Supreme Security Region” was beginning to tell. For much of the Imperial Aristocracy, it appeared that the only beneficiary of all the new rules was the military – especially the Imperial Navy, who were happily filling their coffers with prize money seized under the rules of the ICR. Acamar represented an opportunity to circumvent the military bureaucracy’s monopoly on extortion; even if the Imperial and Navy were there first, their involvement with the BGU was very hands’ off, leaving plenty of opportunity for the Great Houses to supersede them as the primary patrons of the Acamarians.[16]
Political pressure from the great houses – notably Duras, Durak and Kozak – would be placed on the Chancellor from the onset; the presence of Kozak and Durak agents on the planet during the fall of the capital was further evidence of their desire to carve out a fiefdom in the disputed area separate from the military. L’Rell quietly acquiesced; perhaps more to balance the control of the burgeoning military elite against the aristocrats. Their antipathy towards each other reached a level only possible when a meritocratic body is forced to work alongside one where blood line was more important than competence. The Tellarite trader Grathak had a front row seat to this on Acamar after the BGU took over, when he was stopped by a Gatherer soldier at a customs station at threatened with detention.[17]
“It was abundantly clear to me that the oaf was, in that haphazard fashion of all soldiers, attempting to force a bribe out of me in exchange for my own freedom. I was insulted! But only, however, because he did not have the grace and favour to ask for the bribe properly. I would have paid the poor fellow, but some Klingon martinet appeared behind him and told him to send me on my way. The Acamarian looked awfully put out – arguing that the Kozaks said it was the right thing to do, and that they “needed their cut” or something along that line – but the smooth-headed Klingon soldier waved me through before his comrade under arms could stop him. That’s Imperialism, I suppose.”
This sort of economic interference from the houses annoyed the military, but not as much as the presence of noble advisors within the halls of power on Acamar. Where talks for arms with the Imperial Army had stalled after the victory over the Sovereign Council, the great houses were eager to hawk their outdated military equipment over to the Acamarians in exchange for more influence; influence that seeped into the decision-making bodies of the BGU, encouraging them to flaunt their power and hinder the flow of trade in search of prestige and prizes. The great houses simple did not care if the Acamarians brought down the ire of the Federation or the Orions; many of them goaded the BGU into escalating, arguing that they couldn’t prove themselves as “true Klingon allies” until they’d beaten the earther in battle properly. So, they kept pushing the line, seizing more cargo for more tenuous reasons, eager to fill their own pockets and pay their Klingon creditors back. It was only a matter of time until they pushed too far.
Starship Diplomacy
On the 30th of May, three ships – including the Starfleet auxiliary vessel S.S. Buniak – attempted to cut across the edge of Acamarian space. It was a risky move, but the ships were in a hurry, and they had all gotten away with it in the past. This time, they were not so lucky. The three were travelling together when they were intercepted by the Acamarian Cruiser Victor; the Victor ordered all three ships to heave to and prepare for inspection. The two merchant vessels, sitting under the guns of the Victor with little more than particle cannons to defend themselves, complied. The Buniak didn’t.
Why exactly the Buniak’s skipper, Jay Ndiaye, refused the search is debated; his place as captain of an auxiliary transport may have made the prospect of a “customs” search by a hostile government risky. The nebulous state of Acamarian legal sovereignty was another issue; the Stellar Travel Accepted Rights treaty would have stipulated Acamar’s right to search the ship under their own rules, but the lack of clarity on whether the BGU was a continuation of the Sovereign Council, or a new authority entirely may have given Ndiaye more confidence in their own rights.
The cargo – 25 IBM-McDonnell Industrial MXI Replicators destined for Starbases 10 and 24 – added another urgency to avoid boarding. The MXI was the most advanced industrial replication machine in regular production at the time and was increasingly becoming a vital part of any Starfleet repair and refit facility. Letting one of the devices – let alone twenty-five – fall into the hands of a hostile power would be a disaster on multiple levels. Ndiaye also had a reputation as a risk-taker generally; the Buniak was known for courses that went far too close to the demarcation line to shave a few hours off a transit.[18]
Whatever the real reasons that Ndiaye refused to stop would go down with the Buniak. When the auxiliary vessel refused to stop, the Victor would pursue, easily overhauling the Starmaster class ship. It is unclear as to whether the Victor fired to disable or destroy – logic suggests that crippling the transport was the goal if the cargo was to be seized. Intentions mattered little, though: the Victor’s laser cannons would strike the Buniak in her antideuterium tanks. Containment failure was near instantaneous, and the Buniak would be lost with all hands.
Buniak’s loss would cause outrage in Federation Central and upset the Diplomatic Corp’s long-term plans to stabilise the Acamar situation. It brought the BGU’s posturing to the galactic stage, planting it alongside Klingon raiding and Orion piracy as an absolute threat to free movement. Nafros Xaall would lead the charge in the Federation Council, brandishing the manifest of the Buniak and its crew roster as a prop, listing the litany of stopped ships and trumped-up charges as he demanded action. He was not alone: even the more dovish councillors in the OSF-P were outraged by these flagrant attacks on the Freedom of the Stars. The fact that the attack had happened outside of declared Acamarian space was even more galling to the sections of Federation politics who held the sanctity of member world autonomy above everything else.[19]
This was the perfect turn of events for Broadhurst, politically; as much as the deaths of the Buniak’s crew were a tragedy, his prediction that events would soon create an opportunity to make good on his promise to the Acamarians was bearing fruit. The Gatherers had delivered – in many senses – the seeds of their own destruction, by aggravating the UFP enough that the council would back their opponents with arms. It had its risks – the Klingons certainly weren’t going to approve – but Broadhurst was unconcerned. “They won’t be happy about it”, he told the security council in a preliminary discussion. “But the Klingons have their rules of engagement, and honestly? They’ll view it as an insult if we don’t meet them in the field of battle in some way.”
It is important to understand that Broadhurst understood the concept of “Reverse Clauswitzeanism” differently to his successors. It is true that – unlike Wescott, Vale or McClaren – Broadhurst did understand that Klingon diplomatic practice and theory were completely alien to the human (and, largely, Federation) way of doing things. He had not, however, figured out the whole picture. The Broadhurst Doctrine – as he self-dubbed it at the time, much to the glee of the press – was built on an idea that a “proportional response” was more effective with the Klingon Empire than a diplomatic summit: that tip and run raids and minefields were a more effective peace effort than diplomatic conferences and treaties.
To an extent, he was right. To many traditionalists in the Empire, peace talks were an insult of sorts; a method only used by an enemy who thought you weren’t worth fighting. Diplomacy was a military tactic, designed to outmanoeuvre or unbalance an enemy before open warfare began. This wasn’t a universal worldview – no worldview is – but it was certainly the dominant theory in Klingon philosophy. Even the modernists in the military bureaucracy were distrustful of the Federation's “fetish for diplomats” which led them to make even the suspected war criminal Dak’Rah, son of Ra’ul a “peace envoy”.[20] A diplomatic solution over Acamar would be interpreted by the Empire as either an admission of defeat or an invitation to further conflict; the equivalent of a gentleman’s challenge or a declaration of Ushaan-Tor.
This did not, however, mean that the only alternative was violence. “Klingon diplomatic posturing is no swing of a bat’leth”, E.Z. Muir would famously remark. “Advantage can come from more than brutal blows. In fact, subtle attacks – the incision of a dagger, the subtle swipe of a boot to sweep an opponent off their feet – are more lethal than a fist to the face.”[21] These subtleties to Klingon “diplomatic warfare” are exemplified by the slow – and steady – militarisation of Acamar. The Imperial Fleet and Army could have easily overwhelmed the Acamarians the way they rolled over the Enolians and Kriosians in previous years, but they understood how important Acamar was in the UFP’s political mind – far more than the Acamarians or the UFP itself realised.
Acamar could be brought into the Empire, through subtle pressures; advisors, military “volunteers”, support facilities and regional “piracy” that edged out Federation interests in favour of Klingon ones. And it worked – despite consternation and handwringing, the UFP did not baulk at Klingon involvement on Tandar until it was far too late; the same was true on Prospero, Cajitar and Jit. The Acamarians had put this strategy at risk; their dogged desire to appease their patrons and masters in the Imperial Aristocracy put the project at risk by invoking the wrath of the Federation.
Sturka – in an early bout of fatalism – would warn L’Rell that the Federation could “easily supply and arm the Acamarian Sovereignties without our knowledge and would not accept our hegemony over the planet so long as they could do so.”[22] L’Rell – despite her streaks of ruthlessness – was still unwilling to play overt aggressor to the Federation when others could do so on the Empire’s behalf. Escalation on Acamar also risked escalating Federation security levels, exposing ongoing infiltration operations on Altair and Orion. Despite Sturka’s concerns about Federation involvement, the Chancellor seemed to accept a proxy war on Acamar as the cost of doing business; even if Starfleet phasers went into the hands of the exile government’s armies, they could do very little to stop Klingon industry from using Acamar as an entrepôt into the rest of the galaxy; or prevent a military build-up in the space above the planet.
However, it turned out that Broadhurst, Sturka and L’Rell had all misjudged the intentions and direction of the Federation Council. Broadhurst would discover this on the 5th of June, during a special session on the Buniak incident. The day before, the President had briefed the cabinet on the incident and the administration's ongoing negotiations with the Ruling Council. This was the first time that the suggestion of shipments was made to the Federal Commissariat as a whole. The cabinet was deeply divided; many like Yurada of New Paris and Duvaa Schuyona considered it to be anathema to a peaceful method of government, while hawks like Starfleet Commissioner Vi’S and Diplomatic Affairs Commissioner Photsi wholeheartedly supported it. The cabinet was split; so much so that Broadhurst would not risk a vote, and instead offered to take the issue directly to the full Federation Council, which satisfied only was accepted as the best course of action. “At least then it will be totally constitutional,” Attorney General Agudon would comment, in a remarkable moment of foreshadowing.
Passing some form of legislative support for arms seemed like a cakewalk. Calls for action across the Federation were growing every day; even the peace-mongers in the Vulcan Caucus were struggling to maintain their traditional passivity amongst the public outcry, especially after the Cunard liner U.E.S. Rigelia was boarded by an Acamarian “customs team” whose poor conduct and essential robbery of the passengers was top news across the first week of June. The public, merchant interests and political class were all united around the need to “restore order in the region”. The groundswell of support would not last, however; even by the 10th, opposition to any sort of direct action was beginning to emerge. Ambassador Sarek would note that “the desire to ‘show the Acamarians who was in charge’ was infectious, but not endemic: those with the rationality to see past the emotional reaction could see that the peaceful solution was not only the most logical: it was the only way that a General Interspace War could be avoided.”[23]
Pygos Sh’Belulos of Andoria would speak after Xaall’s tirade. Speaking with much more control, Sh’Belulos did manage to support Xaall’s sentiment. “We are a peaceful people, but not cowards. We have principles, and they need defending from all comers. The Freedom of the Stars that we so doggedly believe in must be backed by action if it is to mean more than words. And it must be an action that reminds the aggressors of the quadrant that we are not incapable of defending ourselves.” As Broadhurst held his nerve, Sh’Belulos played their hand. “I now propose a resolution for the deployment of a trade protection task force to Acamar to ensure that our commerce is free and safe no matter the political circumstance.”[24] It was an unexpected move; even Broadhurst acknowledged it as one in his memoirs – and one that completely changed the agenda on Acamar.
Suddenly, the council was electrified by Sh’Belulo’s resolution. And why not? That vague authorisation to “protect and support free trade” had been the justification for both successful Orion Police actions, as well as the Kzinti border raids, and had allowed Starfleet to work independently of civilian meddling to deliver results. This usually allowed Starfleet Command to manage the expectations and control the belligerence of political outrage. However, Sh’Belulos was not interested in letting Starfleet operate with a free hand. “I have no intention of letting them off the leash”, they told AR Vale. “They will get the job done.”[25]
Broadhurst did his best to keep up; “Certainly, I can support the deployment of the Star Fleet to protect trade; and certainly, I can understand why the honourable councillor for Andoria believes that a blockade would protect our trade. Nominally, it would do so. This is not, however, M’talas Prime or the Agosoria Nebula. Acamar’s place so close to our contact line with the Klingon Empire makes the wide-scope solution of a trade protection force unsuitable. Such action would not only risk a confrontation with the Imperial Navy but may even encourage one. Worse, this administration is more concerned with ending instability in the region, not merely containing it. The boil must be lanced, my deal councillors; not merely covered with a plaster.”[26]
Broadhurst’s direct approach had merit, but it simply felt too military to the Federation Council. It was, to a certain extent; certainly, the idea of arming the Acamarians stunk too much of militarism at the time, in a way that a Starfleet task force didn’t in the public mind. The idea that Starfleet could deliver what D.R. Cobalt sardonically called “a humanitarian military operation” existed – and still does, to an extent – as fully formed construct in the political sphere.[27] The Orion Police actions of the 2190s, 2210s and 2230s tended to fit the mould: so long as one ignored the spiralling cost, length, and butcher’s bill, each campaign to end the Orion slave trade resulted in success. Broadhurst knew this, as did most of Starfleet; the council did not, however, which is why with a resounding majority, they rejected Broadhurst’s counterargument with jeers. He had been outflanked by political inertia for the first time. It would not be the last.
The Federation Council had two paths to authorise the deployment of military power to the region. Article 42 of the Federation Charter would allow the Council to directly authorise a military response under its own authority, with clear time limits and rules of engagement.[28] This was how the Orion Police Actions had been authorised; through a slow, deliberate process that ensured that the council could not rush into military action while leaving significant opportunity for negotiations to occur. [29] These were noble intentions; but they were noble intentions that turned military authorisation into a weeks-long process. This had been okay during the Orion Police Actions; it had allowed the council and Starfleet to develop social and business outrage into a coherent political programme and military operation with red lines, achievable goals, and enforceable rules.
Sh’Belulos and the Unionists (as they were beginning to call themselves) did not have time for that. In their minds, that overt “constitutionalism” was simply obstructionism. Instead, they proposed triggering Article 18 of the STAR (Stellar Travel Accepted Rights) treaty, which allowed the Security Council to enforce military action as the “guarantor of the treaty” without the consent of a “violating party”. On paper, Article 18 is a very dangerous piece of legislation; there are no oversight methods, no checks or balances; no way for the council to bring the inertia of military action to a halt; it is designed to deliver a swift result in situations like Acamar, when the S.T.A.R treaty is being abused.
It is also, however, not meant to be used alone. Its only purpose is to provide a legal conduit for Article 42 of the Federation Charter; to allow an authorised military action to be rendered legally sound by the STAR treaty. But that was not how the Unionists wanted to use it.[30] “In the mind of Sh’belulos,” Wescott would recall, “Article 42 was the shield Starfleet used to cover for its failures.” Others within the Unionists were franker. “They’ll just use ’42 to say that the mining and anti-piracy ops fufil what we ask,” Yuba Atwater told Nafros Xaall on the 9th. “We’re not going to let them wriggle out of actually doing something.”[31] Starfleet couldn’t wriggle out of the time-sensitive directives the Security Council could authorise, but they were also solely responsible to that council – and the president. Activating the STAR treaty without Article 42 would deliver a prompt support; but one without any brakes of any kind, beholden only to the office of the President and the Security Council.
A more organised Starfleet Command could have made this clear to the council if more to cover themselves from future recrimination than anything else. Shukar certainly would have reminded the council that by demanding action now, the council would essentially deprive itself of the ability to oversee the operation itself. But Shukar wasn’t Commander, Starfleet anymore; Rittenhouse was. And Rittenhouse wasn’t going to stand up in front of the council and offer them democratic oversight. He wasn’t going to stand in front of them at all. He would leave that to the Chief of Staff, Dai Mehkan.
Dai Mehkan has a poor historical reputation. They are seen as a weak-willed and ineffective bureaucrat who hid behind their office and let subordinates like Shukar and Rittenhouse dictate policy. Some even see them as a useful idiot who empowered the militarists and confirmed their distaste for the “official mind” of Starfleet. It is generally unfair to call Mehkan, a decorated and longstanding flag officer, an idiot. It is even difficult to pin the accusation of “commanding a desk” on them; Mehkan had an accomplished career as a field commander before they became an admiral, having commanded USS Nimitz and Hood on 3-year missions in the Alpha Quadrant. Even their record as an administrative official is generally good. Their tenure as chief of Fleet Operating Supplies in the early 2250s was one of the few bright lights in Starfleet logistics before T’Kuvma’s war. As chief of staff they correctly understood the need for a unified command before the war, and had argued such.
The problem with Mehkan is that they lacked conviction in a crowd. On the frontier, or in a minor office, they could make decisions alone, with certain faith in their ability to succeed. As part of a deliberative body or chair of a committee, they struggled to commit to anything. “[Mehkan] is far more worried about everyone being onside than what they’re actually onside with,” Decker would remark to his wife in 2260 when Mehkan intervened in a turf war between Starfleet Tactical and the 1st Fleet. “What do they believe? That we all must agree. What kind of fucking belief is that? They’re Chief of Staff, not a kindergarten teacher.”
Mehkan had managed under Shukar, mainly because they agreed on the agenda. Mehkan’s own plans for internal reform matched that of Shukar, and though the former would receive the credit, it was Mehkan who made the reform of Starfleet Operations and Operating Forces command possible.[32] But that working relationship with COMSTAR did not survive Rittenhouse. Mehkan found him unapproachably rude, and Rittenhouse thought Mehkan was a gormless idiot. The natural solution to their antipathy (and, frankly, Mehkan’s fear of confrontation) was that they rarely talked to each other. This worked, usually, but now Mehkan was expected to stand on his own and argue against a policy plan he knew Rittenhouse supported.
If Mehkan had any political skill, he would have told the council on the evening of June 10th that using S.T.A.R to get what they want deprived them of control; he would have within his right to do so, and even to suggest the correct way to let them deliver the close blockade of Acamar they wanted. This would have meant going against Rittenhouse – and, if allegations about the closed-door meeting between the President and Mehkan during the 6:30pm recess are true, Broadhurst too. By early evening, Broadhurst had accepted he wasn’t going to get his arms shipments authorised. Undeterred, he shifted tack, fixating instead on Operation Introspection.
Introspection should not really have existed as a detailed plan. The operation called for a cordon around Acamar to gradually close over the process of six weeks, isolating Klingon supply shipments and trade to Acamar, forcing the BGU to the diplomatic table. The second half of the plan – the part that both Broadhurst and Rittenhouse fixated upon – was much less interested in what would happen if cooler heads prevailed. If the BGU decided to stick it out, Introspection detailed the deployment first of a close blockade around the system, followed by “the delivery of military support for the legitimate government” through overt and covert means. The final, most concerning element of Introspection involved activating Operation Groesbeek; a contested landing by the 2nd Strategic Aerospace Mobile Unitary Regiment (SAMUR) in the capital province.[33]
No one really expected Introspection to be entirely completed; even Rittenhouse had only drawn up the 2nd and 3rd elements as an exercise in thorough planning. Broadhurst, however, knew that it gave him an opportunity. Alone in a “briefing” with Mehkan, the President would use Introspection as a cudgel to browbeat Mehkan into submission, allegedly pointing out that giving the council an existing plan would prevent them from asking for the impossible. Mehkan folded; his presentation of a limited form of Introspection is almost word-for-word the same as the one Broadhurst would use in his own memoirs.[34] Mehkan’s cross-examination by the council – yet another rarity in a session that was now entering its 15th hour – was excruciating to watch.[35] “I have never, ever seen an Admiral fold like that,” remarked Rebecca Javid, Paris correspondent for the Times. “Not even one made of origami paper.” Mehkan’s responsibility – both as a Starfleet Officer and as one of the senior members of the Admiralty – was to advise and inform the council based on the combined experience and knowledge of the Starfleet. This was something they had done before, going to bat for Shukar, Nogura and even Rittenhouse during the last few years.
Mehkan’s key criticism of the ruling was that the Article 18 of the STAR treaty wouldn’t give Klingon Command the legal right to a close blockade; and that a required timetable to deliver a blockade would prevent “the establishment of a task force with the strength and capacity to deliver the operational aims of the council.” This was a prepared argument, designed by Mehkan and their staff to shift attention on their preferred plan, Operation Forthright, which was more concerned with closing off Klingon entry routes at the source.[36]. Forthright, he argued, could be altered to act as a partial blockade of Acamar “alongside other indirect measures of containment”; one that would stay within the rules of engagement outline by the Directive 1832-B and the Strategic Resource Denial Act.[37] What they were not expecting was their arguments against direct intervention and in favour of a more meted, arm’s length approach being undermined by counterpoints from councillors who seemed much more informed than the Chief of Staff.
“Yunav [of Aurelia] began reeling off this list of reasons why Mehkan’s option [Forthright] wouldn’t work; that the ships were in the wrong place, that 2nd Fleet couldn’t operate so far from its Starbases, that we’d be ceding a home field advantage to the Klingons and Orions…there was information there that Mehkan clearly hadn’t seen; or, at the very least, hadn’t expected a councillor to have at hand.”[38]
Rittenhouse would later admit, during the Griggs inquiry, that he had been passing confidential information to Unionist and Originalist councillors and staffers since early 2261; while he would never directly admit to undermining Mehkan’s statement, it is abundantly clear that the information the Yunav, Sh’Belulos and others like Paidamoyo Chiroto were working with had come directly from Rittenhouse’s office.[39] Mehkan was unable to respond to their insider knowledge; certainly, his equivocating on the council floor did nothing to convince those still on the fence that a more reasonable response was Starfleet’s position. “Eventually, Sh’Belulos fixed poor Mehkan with a stare and asked, ‘Admiral, if we order you to blockade Acamar, you will do it, won’t you? You don’t seem like you have a better plan at hand.’ Mehkan just nodded. 30 years of space experience, 10 years of climbing the San Fransico greasy pole, and he just folded to a jackrabbit like Sh’Belulos.”[40]
The council would vote for division at 9:00pm Paris time; the only delay in voting was a surprise amendment by the ambassador for Turnstile, who managed to slip in a measure supporting “the opportunity for the council to amend or extent this affirmation of military action with further indirect measures in support of the key aim of the operation.”[41]
Broadhurst maintained a brave face as he announced the results (47 in favour, 30 against), but in private he seethed at Mehkan’s uselessness.[42] Most interestingly, he supposedly questioned the interference of someone in Starfleet, pointing a finger indirectly at Rittenhouse when he told a staffer that “some fucker in the Presidio is trying to pull the rug out from under us.” Many have cited this as Rittenhouse’s first action against the civilian government; a clear sign that he was willing to subvert and co-opt democratic norms for his own agenda.
Except, of course, that Rittenhouse never had any problems with Broadhurst; more evidence exists that the fall of the latter was critical to Rittenhouse’s anti-democratic turn. The choice of who Rittenhouse gave information to – and the result – suggests more that the Admiral believed he was helping the president, which tells us less about his anti-democratic tendencies and more about how little San Franciso and Paris were talking at this point. Even with the close relationship the two had, Rittenhouse still felt about direct communication and interaction with the President; so much so that Commander,Starfleet would find out about the existence of the further action amendment on UFPB News with the rest of the Federation.
It felt, in some way, like everyone had got what they wanted. The hardliners on the council had gotten their “punitive expedition”, as Wescott miserably put it; Rittenhouse got a chance to flex his muscles as Commander, Starfleet; and Broadhurst had been given a sliver of legal authority to make good on his promise to the Acamarians. The Diplomatic Commission would issue a formal ultimatum to the Acamarian “Gathering Unity Authority” demanding that they “end customs inspections outside of internal sovereign zone of their star system” by the 14th, with the Federation Security Council providing authorisation for “military action to protect trade” from that day onwards.[43] The admiralty senior staff would be summoned to meeting shortly afterwards, where Rittenhouse briefed the department chiefs on what was to come. They were unimpressed, especially with Mehkan’s inability to push back against the council. “Is this Gunboat diplomacy, Vaughan?” asked Ty Nagawa (Chief of Stafleet Tactical). “Let’s call it Starship Diplomacy” Rittenhouse replied.
Later that evening on Orion – roughly 8:15am Paris time on the 11th - H.W. Rogers would receive a message from the Acamarian counsel on Orion; it was terse, written on poorly repurposed notepaper by the new Gatherer-appointed minister. News of the STAR treaty ultimatum had led to expected result; The Acamarian government had withdrawn from the rights treaty; worse, they had seized all Federation assets on planet and impounded all UFP-registered vessels in system. “It appears,” remarked Nogura, “that the Gatherers aren’t going to roll over because we asked nicely.”
Waist Deep in the Big Muddy
Matt Decker had just arrived on the Constellation’s bridge for the 1st watch when the emergency order to Acamar arrived. “I heard the high-pitched whine of the flash-fax over my shoulder. By the time I turned round, Lieutenant Ru had it in hand.”[44] The order – straight from COMSTAR himself was frank.
USS CONSTELLATION TO BREAK OFF CURRENT ACTIVITY AND MAKE BEST SPEED FOR ACAMAR SYSTEM. CONSTELLATION TO FORM LEAD SHIP IN TRADE PROTECTION TASK FORCE. USS HONG KONG, AG ROBINSON, ERNEST KING, REV-UAN AND SYNAK TO JOIN CONSTELLATION AT CO-ORDINATES B-ACA-1SD-645. ADDITIONAL ORDERS RELATING TO OPERATION “INTERLUDE” TO BE TRANSMITTED BY KLICOM AND 2ND FLEET COMMANDERS.
A further section added, almost as an afterthought:
COMMANDING OFFICER USS CONSTELLATION IS BREVETTED TO RANK OF FLEET CAPTAIN FOR DURATION OF “INTERLUDE”.
Decker’s bridge crew offered him congratulations. “I told them to can it. There was nothing congratulate me over. Now we’re heading straight into the jaw of this Acamarian nightmare without even half the strength we need. I dread to think what might – will happen when the Klingons find out what we’re doing.”[45]
Operation Interlude – a curtailed version of Introspection – would go into effect on the 15th of June. Interlude’s task force was miniscule compared to the demands of Sh’Belulos, for a multitude of reasons. With the continuation of Kadis-Khot II and 2nd Fleet conducting a multi-front antipiracy operation at the same time, few ships could be spared immediately. The task force lead, USS Constellation, had been re-directed from a Pulsar study near Barolia to lead the operation; the frigates and cruisers of CRURON 30 were, in fact, a synthesis of vessels from CRURONs 14 and 16; USS A.G. Robinson had only been on active service for five weeks. It was a paltry collection of vessels, really; a symptom of Mehkan’s inability to push back against Rittenhouse and Broadhurst and create the space for cooler heads to prevail.
Decker was correct to worry about how few forces he had at his disposal. By h-hour on the 15th, he had at his disposal a mere eight ships; one heavy cruiser, 2 light cruisers, 3 destroyers and 2 frigates with which had was meant to protect commerce across nearly 15 cubic light years.[46] Even with the travel restrictions and now very clear danger to trade, shielding all traffic from the Acamarians was essentially impossible. What traffic could be herded into convoys was already doing so undern the purview of 2nd Fleet and the Federation Border Patrol, but this only accounted for about 48% of all trade in the region, and only 68% of Federation-flagged tonnage.
The intelligence picture was even worse; Starfleet Intelligence’s information gathering mission on Acamarian fleet movements – Operation Bovine Incursion – was dead on arrival; the other operations in the region (Cornhole and One-Night-Stand) were even less useful to Decker.[47] Even the overall goal of Interlude evaded him. The priority orders from San Francisco emphasised “the importance of restricting Acamarian freedom of movement within treaty space”, while the operational plan for Interlude (which had been written by KLICOM with confirmation by Paris) emphasised “trade protection over search-and-destroy activity”. Crucially, Klingon Command and Starfleet Headquarters seemed to disagree over red lines; despite having a more defensive mindset, Decker’s orders from Admiral Paris gave him purview to act within the 3 light year limit; something that Starfleet Command did not.
Decker stepped up to the thankless task with typical brusqueness. “When you’re wading through hell, the one thing they tell you to do is keep going”, he told his wife. “So what else am I meant to do?” Decker would split the force into three mutually supporting groups, with Constellation paired with the two frigates, Hong Kong with the Synak and USS A.G. Robinson with Xerxes and Ch’Fnalliuk. From the 15th, the three groups move coreward from the rendezvous to form a cordon along the main trade routes, acting as, in Decker’s words, “a moving cordon between Acamar and the main trade corridor.”[48] Crucially, his force would operate mostly on the far side of Acamar from the Klingons; an overt attempt by Decker to avoid a confrontation with the Imperial Navy.
It is unclear if the Klingons noticed Interlude at the operational level. Strategically, they were aware of it; the name appears in Imperial Intelligence documentation, but it appears that for most of June they thought it was part of the anti-piracy operations 2nd Fleet was conducting along the whole Barolia highway.[49] The Acamarians were certainly aware. Their withdrawal from the STAR treaty and seizure of Federation assets coincided with a upscale campaign against the trade lanes, under the guise of “asset reclamation”; that they were simply seizing back the significant economic and financial assets the UFP had stolen from the Acamarian people in “kind”. Even with their home advantage, however, the presence of the new Starfleet task force was enough to alter the balance, in the short term, at least. Decker’s use of the more manoeuvrable frigates and destroyers to pin the BGU forces – a skilful development of “Mendez Column” tactics in a more static form – dissuaded many attacks on trade early on, as the gatherer crews soon discovered that facing a Constitution Class Starship took more than ideological fervour. Constellation and AG Robinson would both be involved in direct confrontations; both times, the Starfleet ships forced the BGU to back off without endangering merchant ships. “Interventions” on neutral shipping, which peaked in the week before the 15th at 25, dropped to only 4 in the seven days after the beginning of Interlude.[50]
Despite statistical success in the first week of Interlude, Decker remained apprehensive. “I don’t think this will be over in a week, Jane. I know what you and boys will hear on the news, but don’t believe it.” Nevertheless, the Council – and Command – were buoyant about the success of Interlude. Rittenhouse would tell April that he expects to return Constellation to exploratory duty by the end of the month, and the whole operation wound up by the end of July.
For Broadhurst, the Acamarian’s apparently decision to back off presented more issues than solution. Arms to Acamar and regime change on the planet itself was still the primary aim of his administration, both internally and externally. Even if the agreement to the Acamarians was not public, the text of it was largely known within government; his obligation to the Federations “gallant Acamarian allies” would almost certainly hang over him in a tight election campaign against the increasingly belligerent proto unionists. Worse, the Sovereign government in-exile was growing increasingly tetchy about the mood in Paris; Decker’s initial success had translated into a litany of “mission accomplished” declarations amongst the capital’s elite, one which sidelined the long-term concerns of the Acamarians in favour of a short-term victory for the “Freedom of the Stars”.
Broadhurst was trying to be opportune about when to drop the arms shipments into the equation; finding the balance within the Security Council would be much harder than finding it in the General Assembly Council. The Security Council’s membership remained dominated by pre-war political titans; even Sarek, somehow the Freshman member of the Security Council in 2256, was increasingly a political relic in the wake of the 2260 and 2261 electoral cycles, which had filled the General Council with the belligerent politicians who would go on to form the Charterites and Unionists. The 12 members of the Security Council were unlikely to vote for military aid – let alone a binding treaty – based on the sway of public opinion. By the 20th the reeling success of Interlude was undermining any possibility of escalation; Broadhurst seems to have considered changing tack over the next week towards passive support, suggesting to his press secretary that an argument for “arms for Acamar” might have a direct appeal to the public, eschewing his traditional disregard for public relations.
The Acamarian decision to escalate from the 21st seems unintuitive; so much so that many conspiracists both amongst the reactionaries and the Sevrinite circle would argue that either Broadhurst, Rittenhouse or the Sovereign Exiles had orchestrated their actions. Two explanations present themselves. Firstly, that of Broadhurst and the Tellar school historians in the 2310s, which argue that the Acamarians were compelled by “national honour” and “social duress” to act against a greater power; that they felt, as Kristina Rupa put it, “a need to be ‘the mouse that roared’ as to underline their importance in posterity”.[51] This view has some credence, so long as you believe that the Acamarians had no astro-political awareness.
The second view – more technical perhaps, but rather more reasonable – is based on understanding the level of control the Klingon aristocracy was exerting over Acamar by summer 2262. The opening of the Klingon archives – especially the house archives – has largely transformed our understanding of the intentions of the BGU government. What is abundantly clear from the conversations between the Gatherers and their patron houses is that the offensive action after the 21st was much more rational than it was emotional. The Great Houses, especially Durak, viewed the BGU as being too “timid”, and a liability to their growing soft power in the region. Certainly, the language of one letter to a BGU commander from Korros of Durak heavily implied that unless the Gatherers gave Starfleet some form of bloody nose, their support would be withdrawn. The loss of aristocratic support from Acamar was, contrary to established opinion at the time, much more of a danger than that of the Imperial Government. While much of the support from the Empire itself was cursory – even entirely hypothetical at this point – the Great houses were providing much more tangible backing to the BGU. The Gatherer’s grand social reforms and economic plans were largely built on good relations with the Duras, Duras and Kozak, whether as customers for raw materials or as suppliers of Duotronic computers and technicians.[52]
The withdrawal of aristocratic backing would almost certainly bring the social element of the Gatherer revolution to a halt, risking the return of the Ruling Council. Thus, the Acamarians were compelled to act – not out of any direct spite for Starfleet, but more to protect their own revolution based on the understanding that their Klingon Patrons would support them; or, more likely, the Imperial Government itself. “I don’t care what the Durak say,” the BGU Autarch Lo’Chau would tell a general, “I care what the Imperial Navy does.”
The great houses themselves had no real intention of backing the Acamarians; contemporary claims (influenced largely by the wholesale destruction of house autonomy the year afterwards) argue that they did not have the forces or resources available to challenge Starfleet themselves. Archival evidence from the houses themselves suggests a more craven explanation; they simply didn’t want to do it themselves. Despite L’Rell’s government reforms and the disaster of the Raktajino Revolution, many in the ostensibly loyal houses still viewed central government and the Imperial Navy as ancillaries to their own ambitions. Why weaken internal retinues and fleets, risking a loss of income from tax collection and privateering, when the Imperial Navy could act on your behalf?
Of course, they could never ask this directly; an overt request for military assistance from the Imperial Armed Forces would risk handing over your influence and control to the burgeoning military-bureaucratic elite. But the Imperial Navy could not ignore a Starfleet intervention in Acamarian space. As much as Sturka would protest otherwise, the great houses (especially Duras) were aware of the strategic interest in Acamar – they just did not regard it as being of more importance than their economic interest. The great houses of this period were experts in venal short-termism, and nothing else exemplifies this than overtly egging on a crisis for the slight possibility of increased profit margins.
The Acamarian escalation in late June and early July came in two forms. First, customs inspections were expanded to all ships, as were contraband seizures; the introduction of more Klingon-built cutters based on the E-D1 and I-1 “raptors” which had held back due to technical issues allowed the BGU to throw its weight around more effectively.[53] Operating in pairs or trios, the “attack groups” would pin merchant ships in place and prevent them from fleeing, allowing customs teams to board them and arrest the crews for “evading lawful inspection.” The second and more lethal form was overtly aimed at Starfleet. The BGU’s top-of-line ships were tasked with pushing well beyond the 3 light year limit in search of Starfleet ships on escort. Equipped with Imperial Navy scanning equipment (almost certainly “liberated” from fleet stores on Mastocal or Kuvat), these ships – both the two ex-Freedom class ships and 4 D4-As that had been “donated” by House Durak in early June – could often spot and close with Starfleet ships without being detected.[54] Once on a merchant convoy’s temple, the Acamarian ships would begin to make spoiling runs on the convoy. These were aimed less at overt destruction but more at spooking the convoy commodore into ordering the ships to scatter or forcing the escort vessel to break off and pursue to Acamarian ships.
This second tactic – quickly named “cow tipping” by Matt Decker and his largely North American heritage crew – was both more annoying and harder to predict than the customs “inspections.” Merchant skippers – many of whom, despite being Federation-flagged, were professional blockade runners and customs evaders – could be relied upon to find new and inventive ways to avoid the BGU attack groups. The convoy buzzing tactics were much riskier. Acamarian commanders’ attacks were extremely bold, surprising even the most seasoned veterans of the Klingon War. The frigate Victor was known for making extremely close passes of Starfleet ships; in one mock-attack on Constellation, she would pass only 55 meters under her keel; close enough that the Constellation’s Ventral shields were damaged by the magnetic shock. The Ontaz (one of the D4-As) fired three blank-loaded photonic torpedoes at a convoy near hd-15612, causing a nervous convoy commodore to order the group to scatter; two of the five merchantmen would be captured or destroyed by Klingon privateers in the next 3 days.
Decker knew he was being provoked by these attacks; orders about the restricted rules of engagement were reiterated and convoy commodores’ orders to maintain formation, but it was only going to be a matter of time before someone blinked. “I have good people, but it only takes one mistake before this all blows up in my face.” Even with the arrival of USS Lexington and Qingdao on the 25th, Decker’s force remained on the backfoot, forced to act passively by political realities. The Acamarians had no such limitation. In fact, the arrival of another Constitution Class on the scene only encouraged them to push harder. On the 28th, Victor would make a run at a convoy being escorted by the USS A.G. Robinson, going as far as to fire three volleys into the merchant ships. A.G. Robinson would take more of these hits, suffering significant damage to her power systems and warp coils. She was withdrawn from Decker’s task force the same day; USS Synak was also withdrawn on the 29th after colliding with the merchant cruiser Catania Plain.
It was abundantly clear that the situation was slipping out of control. On earth, Broadhurst’s campaign to expand the level of support for the Ruling Council was hitting a brick wall; with Starfleet on the defensive, the idea of committing materiel support to what many increasingly saw as a failed state-in-exile was met with confusion and scorn. Even the concept of civil aid – medical supplies and engineering equipment – was shot down in a vote that led to Sh’Belulos being egged by Pro-Acamar protestors in the Tuileries Gardens. Tensions were running high in Paris by the 28th and Broadhurst’s insistence on direct support was beginning to annoy both the council and his cabinet. High Commissioner Yurada – one of the few figures in the cabinet who also thought that arming the Sovereignties was a good idea – tried to convince the president to drop the issue for a better time. Broadhurst refused; “now is the only chance we have to reverse the status quo on the planet”, he told Yurade on the 28th. “Next year is too late. Next month is too late.”[55] It is likely that Broadhurst was basing his view off Starfleet Intelligence’s own conclusions.
Despite many holes in their overall operation (including a glaring lack of awareness that the Klingon mission on M’talas was tapping into the Starfleet Subspace relay in the system), SI’s signals and long-range observation intelligence on Acamar had improved dramatically across 2262; so much so that they were reading nearly 80% of Durak and Duras transmissions in the system. Their information seemed to suggest – in a half-truth typical of espionage work – that the Klingon houses had parcelled land out on the planet for military purposes. In the eyes of SI – and Broadhurst – these parcels of land were most likely spaceports and fitting yards, aimed at supporting Klingon privateers closer to their prey along the Barolia Highway and Argelius Approaches. “The possibility of Acamar turning into a Klingon rock with Orion barnacles is not something I can live with”, Broadhurst would tell the council on the 30th of June, in yet another attempt to gather military support for the Sovereignites. But they would not budge. “We are not about to break off from an entire defensive trade protection doctrine to go glory hunting on Acamar”, warned Tyn K’iunos of Cait. Broadhurst’s motion would fail a second time that evening. Other methods would have to be employed.
The Presidio, forced to commit two of its precious Constitution Class ships to Interlude, was now under pressure from both 2nd Fleet and Paris to draw further from it’s reserves to support Acamar.[56] Rittenhouse would reluctantly release DESRON 6 from 5th Fleet, bringing more craft to bear on the task even if DESRON 6 largely consisted of out-of-date light ships like the Engle and New Paris. More critically, Rittenhouse and Chrisjen Paris (provisional C-in-C Klingon Border) would agree to release USS Hector, Heracles and Ranger for active service with 2nd Fleet’s STARRON 2. While not committed directly to the Acamar task force, both vessels – each representing the next generation of Starfleet capital ships – were always going to be read as an escalation by the Empire.
It was the two Perseus class ships – Heracles and Hector - that rang the real alarm bells within the Imperial Admiralty. Ranger was a known entity to the Klingons, thanks to it’s disastrous performance in Operation Barbary Coast and other issues with the class that kept Ranger’s sister ships in spacedock for well after their estimated launch dates. Despite being less well armed on paper, the Perseus-class had already proved itself more capable. Developed as an “escort cruiser” in the 2250s as a counter to increased raiding along the Alpha Quadrant, design and production were rapidly accelerated upon the outset of war in May 2256. Unlike the Ranger, this process did not compromise the potential of the design. The resulting design – designated a “strike cruiser” despite having closer armament to a Europa class or a Klingon pocket battleship than it’s Kirov-class contemporary – would launch in August 2256 to little ceremony. Perseus would still be undergoing truncated space trials when the war ended, after which would lead a task force to the Kzinti sector to break up a major border raid; here, Perseus would prove her worth as she took on a Kzinti “super-raider” in a one-on-one duel that saw the raider withdraw with heavy damage after only 45 minutes. The success would see the initial 4-ship production run expanded to 12, a task made significantly easier by the fact Perseus had been built almost entirely using “off-the-shelf” parts from Constitution and other existing Marvick-class ships.[57]
Hector and Heracles were the first of the 2nd production group, launched from Tranquillity Base Fleet Yards in January 2261 and entering full commissioned on the 18th of December that year. They were both also fitted with new warp regulation systems that allowed them to reach maximum acceleration at higher speeds than even a constitution; Hector had even managed to hold a steady Warp 8.8 during space trials, outpacing the supposed “fast battlecruiser” Ranger. For the Klingons, the Perseus class represented a clear threat to the superiority of the D7 as a deep-strike ship, while also challenging the raw firepower of the B1 Battleship. While the B-2 Battleship and D9 projects had been commissioned as counters in late 2259, they were still nowhere near ready in the same numbers as the Perseus.
The Klingons were, however, obliged to respond; the pressure from the great houses was growing daily, and the presence of Starfleet capital ships in the region could jeopardise the Navy’s long-term plans. In fact, it is arguable that even just the idea of Perseus class ships being deployed – alongside the curtailing of USS Hood’s mission in the Hiromi sector – may have even caused a panic within the Klingon military. It is unclear whether the Klingons knew the details of Operation Introspection – or that Interlude was a separate plan completely – but records from their top-level subspace tap on M’talas Prime show that the movement of FGF forces to concentration points near Regulus (a move not approved by the Federation Council but tactically affirmed by Rittenhouse and Broadhurst) had been noticed by Imperial Intelligence.
Certainly, within Klingon logic, the obvious solution to the Federation’s Acamarian woes would be a ground invasion after the achievement of local space superiority; something the Empire could not allow. This fear of an “earther invasion” certainly felt real to the BGU and their Klingon patrons; SI ground reports from Operation One-Night Stand spoke of a “tangible feeling on the streets that Starfleet was about to tip the scales somehow”; though whether these rumours were the fault of the Aristocracy, or the real feelings of the Acamarian Revolutionaries is difficult to discern. What is clear is that the enlargement of Decker’s task force – as well as Broadhurst’s continued clash with the Federation Council over arms – had convinced many on both Acamar and Qo’noS that they needed to act now before the UFP decided that “Starship Diplomacy” wasn’t enough.
The Imperial Navy’s 2nd Fleet Group – now twice the strength it had been a First Caleb IV – would detach it’s “Central Assault Group” (CAG) and 2 General Combat Groups (GCG) on the 30th June; this formation, placed under the command of General Kesh, consisted of 18 vessels; 2 B1 Battleships, 2 D10 Heavy Cruisers, 4 D7 Battle Cruisers, 2 D5 Light Cruisers and 4 I-2 & 4 E-2 Destroyers. Despite the firepower of this formation – and the general confrontational strategy of the Imperial Navy – Kesh’s sealed orders from the Chancellor did not direct him to engage with Starfleet. Instead, the General – a mild mannered (by Klingon standards) old officer was ordered to “Maintain a force in being on the edge of the region…and support through interference, escort and decoy, the passage of Special Cargoes through to Acamar.” These cargoes would be carried aboard modified D5 cruisers, merchant ships and tenders; their crews and cargoes were not to be searched, interrogated, or even scanned by Kesh’s forces.
Said special cargoes were, of course, Long Range Interspatial Missiles, as well as technicians and engineers to prepare sites for them on and in orbit of Acamar.
[1] Quentin Hawk, The Official History of Starfleet Intelligence, 2161-2301 (San Francisco: Starfleet Press, 2311)
[2] Other surgical operations – like the Tip-and-runs under Saoirse Fitzpatrick and the strikes on Imperial Army logistics chains by DESRON 8 – were locally developed and authorised.
[3] Starfleet would not learn that the Intelligence Codes had been broken by the Klingons until 2263; they would not discover that the Acamarian Sovereignty had been compromised by Imperial Intelligence until the early 2270s;
[4] The Hayes Brigade was one of many mercenary groups formed out of demobilised veterans of the 2256-57 war who had either left the FGF, or been passed out after failing post-war psychometric exams. While many of the post-war “military companies” evolved into criminal protection rackets similar to the Broken Circle of Kajitar IV, others like the Hayes Brigade, the Ushaan Elite and the Atoned Children of Kahless became Kingmakers across the disputed area for years to come.
[5] The political interpretation of General Order One was nowhere near to the status quo one accepts in the 24th century in this period. In fact, interpreting the Prime Directive as a expression of political will was often perceived as reductive and reactionary: one missed the point of non-interference rules if one applied them as a blanket policy to all peoples. This did not mean it was never used this way; 1st Fleet and the Diplomatic Office’s early interactions with the Gorn in the Rimward arcs of the Eminiar Gap during the Parnassus Skirmishes were based around an uncharacteristically zealous application of General Order One as interstellar policy.
[6] Masego, Three Months in Summer
[7] The decision of the Acamarian government to destroy large amounts of documents from their noticeably brief time in exile has caused many sleepless nights for the author.
[8] Kellye, The Last Blood Feud
[9] The decision to house the Acamarians in Zagreb – as opposed to the tradition “exile domiciles” in Paris, Beruit or Johannesburg – was almost certainly down to concerns over their security. It was well known that Orion investigators and operators had infiltrated the exile administrations in Paris, and that Klingon agents were not far behind.
[10] Chandra Li, The Broadhurst Intermission, (New Delhi; Universal Imprint, 2281)
[11] The death of Ambassador Dak'Rah, son of Ra’ul in September 2260 represented a significant shift in the diplomatic front of the early Klingon Cold War. Dak'Rah – a General in the Imperial Army from a middling aristocratic family – had led the ground campaign on J’Gal Minor. After some time as a political refugee on Argelius, Dak'Rah offered his services to the Federation Diplomatic Corps. While en-route from Prospero to Starbase 12, Ambassador Dak'Rah was involved in altercation with Dr. Joseph M’Benga of the USS Enterprise. M’Benga – a veteran of J’Gal – confronted Dak'Rah about his war record. To cover for his crimes, Dak'Rah tried to silence M’Benga, only to be killed with his own knife.
[12] TK Robson, To Prevent Hell
[13] The used of the term “cruiser” here is somewhat a misnomer; the Victor was roughly the same tonnage as a Burke Class Frigate.
[14] Yuiqui, Though Arms We Need
[15] Buq of Rigel IV, Our People Under Kahless
[16] The “hands off” political infiltration of the Acamarians was almost certainly a deliberate choice in the aftermath of the BGU victory; many in the Imperial Navy were concerned that a heavy-handed approach would backfire and curtail Klingon soft power – as it eventually would.
[17] Grathak, I Don’t Like to Call it a Living,
[18] Masego, Three Months in Summer
[19] AR Vale, Out of the Wilderness
[20] TK Robson & E.Z. Muir, Towards a General Theory on Klingon Foreign Policy & Muir, Klingon Diplomacy from the Inside (New York; Yunidea Imprint, 2301)
[21]E.Z. Muir, The High Martial Principle: Diplomacy in the Klingon Mind (San Francisco; Suyak and Schuster, 2310)
[22] Zym, Recollections
[23] Sarek, Recollections.
[24] Hansard: FC Deb 10 Jun 2262 vol.634
[25] Vale, Out of the Wilderness
[26] The nuances of this metaphor were, notably, lost on most of the council, who (living in a society with 23rd century medicine) had no idea what “lancing a boil” meant.
[27] D.R. Cobalt, The Imperial Era: The Federation’s Adventure in the Beta Quadrant, 2180-2250 (Shanghai; The post-Federal Book Union, 2330)
[28] Franz Joesph (ed.), The Star Fleet Technical Manual, (Ballatine Books; 2270) TO:00:01:07
[29] Soval, On the Principles of Trans-Planetary Government, (Paris; United Federal Press, 2180)
[30] Ch’Rella, The End of Indecision
[31] Intan Bin Mamat, The Union Party, Volume I: Ascendance, (Shanghai; China United Press, 2330)
[32] Peraa Zh’tyvohr, “Blue Jackie”
[33] Masego, Three Months in Summer & Yuiqui, Though Arms We Need
[34] Peter Broadhurst, Things I Overheard While Trying to Be the President, (New York; Random House, 2295)
[35] A motion to adjourn the assembly had been defeated at 5:30pm by the opposition; hourly procedural motions to adjourn would continue to be defeated until 10:30pm.
[36] Forthright was also built on much more coherent intelligence than Introspection, having begun life in 2nd Fleet as a follow-up to Operation En Passant the previous autumn.
[37] 1832-B: the “No Peace Beyond the Line” memorandum
[38] Wescott to Vale, 11th June 2262, in Out of The Wilderness
[39] Paidamoyo Chiroto; Councillor for Regulus, 2260-2272. Considered one of the founding members of the Unionist movement, and one of the few Unionists (alongside Sh’Belulos) who never endorsed Originalist thinking at any point.
[40] Wescott to Vale, 11th June 2262, in Out of The Wilderness
[41] Hansard, Motion FC-EM-(C)186-3 Peacekeeping Directive: Acamar, 10th June 2262 (London: Federation Archives Service)
[42] The non-voters were Sarek, Gin’cek (Megar) and Tosiam (Delta).
[43] Formal Message to the Gathering Unity Authority, 10th June 2262 (Shanghai; Diplomatic Commission Archive)
[44] “Flash-fax” was the colloquial term for Confidential Order Print-Outs or COPOs, a system of teleprinters installed aboard Federation Starships in the 2250s and 60s as part of an experiment in information security techniques. Unpopular with crews and an ineffective security tool, most were removed by the mid 2260s.
[45] Matt Decker to Jane Decker, June 12th 2262.
[46] USS Constellation, Light cruisers, Hong Kong and AG Robinson, Destroyers Synak, Xerxes and Ch’Fnalliuk, Frigates Tensing and Burke.
[47] The frankly bizarre naming conventions of Starfleet Intelligence operations in this period is the subject of a fascinating (and surprisingly humorous) manuscript by Sakani-Ty Vann, “Hanky codes and Menopause; SI nomenclature in the 2260s” in The Starfleet Historical Review, vol.264 (Dec 2330)
[48] CO, Constellation to TF Commanders, TF Constellation, 14th June 2262
[49] Satish Basim Afif & Gortok, son of Qipo’S, “Imperial Intelligence and the early cold war; a reassessment.” – The New Journal of Interstellar History, vol 54 (2339)
[50] “Interventions” covered everything from a travel document scan or a customs inspection all the way to the scuttling of a vessel or it’s destruction by weapons fire.
[51] Kristina Rupa, In Search of a Third Way: Non-Aligned Powers in the 23rd Century (Tellar Prime; Charov Teritary Press, 2314)
[52] Duotronics – despite being regarded generally as a “Human” information revolution – forms part of a larger trend of computing speed leaps in the mid-23rd century. The Klingon equivalent system, “Kav-M’raq’Unalla” would first debut in 2239, almost 3 years before Daystrom’s breakthrough, but would lack both an appreciate audience and financial backers until the mid-2250s.
[53] The “raptor” is best described in Starfleet terms as a “heavy scout” or “picket destroyer”; too large and well-armed to be a patrol frigate or exploration scout, but still outgunned by line destroyers like the Saladin, Larson and Engle.
[54] The D4-A – as opposed to the D4-E that was made famous by the exploits of Captain Kang – was over 90 years old by this time; while many had been modernised since 2250 to D4-D or E standards, most within house retinues remained untouched.
[55] Vale, Out of The Wilderness
[56] By 2262 the original 12 Block I Constitutions had been joined by 8 Block II vessels; they remained in high demand across the active fleet.
[57] In 2261, Starfleet Operations estimated that Perseus class would go from Keel to launch in 21 months. Ranger would take 26 at minimum and cost nearly 40% more.
The Gathering Storm
Paris was in full mourning on May 10th. Th’rhahlat’s funeral train had begun its journey from Edinburgh on the 8th, travelling along East Coast Travel Lane from Waverley at a sedate 100 kilometres per hour to London. The body lay in state there for a day, allowing the Andorian community to view his casket; the queue at St. Pancras was long enough that several thousand people were turned away. An equal throng of mourners would greet the train at the Gare de Nord on the 9th, lining the streets from the station to the Palais de Concorde’s atrium. Th’rhahlat would lie there, in the same spot that Jonathan Archer had lain sixteen years beforehand, overnight.
The next day was overcast, with rain forecasted, and yet the route of the procession to The Panthéon was packed with mourners, some in traditional black, others in Andorian mourning robes. Starfleet Officers and Federation Marines in ceremonial dress lined the route as the coffin, surrounded by an honour guard, began its journey. As they arrived on the south bank of the river, it began to rain, soaking the marines of the 1st Regiment through. A few struggled on the Parisian cobbles but persisted through the rain as they pass the Jardin de Luxembourg. The rain abated as the procession arrived at the Panthéon. As they arrived at the end of Rue Sufflot and the coffin was raised onto the shoulders of the Marines, the Band of the Blue and Buff’s struck up; the sound of Battle Hymn of the Republic echoed through the silent streets of Paris as President Th’rhahlat – the reformer, the liberator, the man who saved the Federation – was carried to his final resting place through a grim chill drizzle.
Broadhurst would lead the mourning alongside the Fleet Admiral Luteth and Prime Minister Jing. Their eulogies were short, leaving space for the family to speak for themselves; Broadhurst looked distracted for most of the ceremony, constantly looking at his antique digital wristwatch for the time. As the mourners broke up for the Ul-Oiala (an Andorian Wake), he was taken aside by a nervous looking aide. The president disappeared with Luteth into a waiting car that took them to the Palais. Descending to the Situation Room, they were greeted by the grim face of Admiral Rittenhouse, who merely told them. “They’ve fucked it.”
“It” was Operation Barbary Coast, the plan to retake or destroy the six-patrol craft Starfleet had sold to the previous Acamarian government. The vessels were not modern in design, dating back to before the Romulan War, but their equipment included modern sensor arrays, 2nd generation phaser banks, modern pulse phasers and upgraded EB-II warp drives. All this technology was a sensible upgrade for Acamar when the Ruling Council was in power, but now these ships were in the hands of the Banner of Gathering Unity, whose militarist tendencies likely aligned them with the Klingon Empire. With Starfleet Intelligence now suspecting active Klingon involvement in the BGU’s lightning campaign on Acamar, the possibility of critical Starfleet technology falling into the hands of the Imperial navy was a substantial risk. Intelligence from pro-sovereignty forces, however, suggested that the six ships were being laid up in the Timixea anchorage due to a lack of crews.[1] This presented an opportunity that Rittenhouse was loath to turn down.
The plan was primarily (at least, if the inquiry is to be believed) a recovery operation. Three Archer Class ships (USS Lightfoot, USS Totalize and USS Goodwood) would transport 75 marines, 13 engineers and 10 Acamarian officers to Timixea under cover of stolen Acamarian civilian merchant transponders. The strike teams would neutralise the two Franklin class ships and the port tractor arrays, allowing the recaptured Franklins to tow the Powhattan’s into deep space. USS Ranger would act as task force commander, operating on the edge of the system with orders to intervene if the strike force was in danger. At the last minute, Pro-sovereignty forces on Acamar agreed to a diversionary attack on a military installation near the Xupa spaceport, aiming at diverting attention planetside. It was a classic smash and grab job, with all the complexity of the St. Nazaire raid.
Operation Barbary Coast was a horrendously overthought and thoroughly under-prepared. It relied far too much on Acamarian incompetence and luck to succeed, and the assumption that the BGU weren’t bothering to man their ships properly. Even entry into the Acamar system was based upon poorly tuned sensors seeing the Starfleet group as merchant vessels, and not as Starfleet scouts crammed to the bulkheads with UFP Marines. No intelligence on the layout of the anchorage had been verified; the promises of the Acamarians were taken at face value; suggestions of using probes to confirm the location of the six ships were vetoed due to the time it would take to do so. With less than a week to prepare, the strike group – Task Force Ranger – crossed it’s start line without even performing a full sensor scan of the Acamar system. “The order of the day is speed, precision and decision,” remarked Captain Opan of the Ranger. “Or, blow the bastards to buggery and get the fuck out of there,” added Lieutenant Chandler of the Marines. “Sounds easy.”
It went wrong right from the start. The three Archer class ships were detected almost immediately, their stolen transponder codes deterring the BGU patrols for no more than a minute. While the Archers were able to reach the Timixea anchorage, there were only two of the patrol vessels there; one of which (USS Oshawa) was crippled and unmovable. USS Hengist’s marine party would scuttle her with charges after her Captain refused to fire a photon torpedo and risk damaging the Piper. This waste of valuable time allowed the BGU system patrols to catch up with the Starfleet strike force. With the Lightfoot marines now on the second ship and caught in a running battle with the unexpectedly large crew aboard, Totalize and Goodwood would break off to try and fight off the patrol, which included three of the target ships.
Outnumbered and outgunned, Totalize and Goodwood were pushed away from Timixea. Unable to recover her Marine Party, Lightfoot’s commander fled, abandoning 28 marines and 5 Starfleet personnel to their fate. The Marine party, under the Pandrillan Captain Jor Thu’Res Xuqus, managed to cripple the Piper before they were captured by the BGU forces: all of whom were armed with Klingon disruptor rifles. Lightfoot did not make it very far; the former USS Adams would knock out her engines and tow her into transporter range; she was boarded before the Lightfoot’s skipper could initiate a self-destruct order.
Totalize and Goodwood, retreating at full speed towards their planned rendezvous, pleaded with the new Battle Cruiser USS Ranger to come to their aide. Ranger, however, was immobilised by a failure in her warp plasma conduits that restricted her to impulse speeds, the result of a rushed deployment from Starbase 11. Totalize and Goodwood, while fast, were rapidly being overhauled by interceptors that had clearly been upgraded with modern equipment. Totalize, strained by the weight of her passengers and their photonic charges, would suffer a catastrophic fault in her warp matrix; she was lost with all hands on the edge of the system. Goodwood would reach the rendezvous alongside the limping Ranger, which still had enough power to frighten off the Acamarian interceptors.
Starfleet had very little the show for the death of 45 personnel, the capture of one starship, and the loss of 55 Starfleet crew and marines as POWs. The destruction of the ships had been a secondary goal and had come with severe damage to the orbital facilities of Acamar Central, and the interruption of trade flow in the system. The transponder codes from the ostensibly trustworthy exiles had been duds, provided by a compromised source almost certainly working for the BGU. Klingon Command’s reputation for tactical operations had been shattered in its first organised surgical strike.[2] Even worse, Starfleet Intelligence SIGNIT decrypts suggested that the Klingon Navy had moment to moment updates on the entire fiasco: suggesting the presence of either operatives within the BGU’s navy or Klingon vessels in Acamarian Space.[3]
Even worse, the diversionary attack on the ground had, through the complications of the internal politics of the Sovereign Army, escalated in size and scope into a general offensive in the Xupa plain .It now appeared that Starfleet had been the ones engaging in a diversionary attack so they could tip the scales of the Acamarian Civil War. The offensive stalled after several days, before being halted entirely by a BGU counterattack; footage of Sovereignty POWs being carted back from the front filled the evening reports. Further embarrassment came when it emerged that the BGU counterattack had been led by several members of the Hayes Brigade, a collection of ex-Starfleet and FGF soldiers of fortune who had been hired by the BGU to serve as combat “advisors”.[4]
Led by the dashing and deeply unscrupulous Colonel Lang, ex of the United Earth Parachute Regiment, they had defeated the Sovereign army in detail in full view of assembled propaganda cameras from the Klingon Empire. Lang would also inspect the captured Marines of the USS Lightfoot, going as far as to off a cigar to Captain Thu’Res. This footage – along with that of BGU personnel lifting sensitive equipment from the Lightfoot – was sent directly to Federation news sources. Next-day coverage of Th’rhahlat’s funeral was moved to late slots as the “Timixea Incident” dominated headlines.
Recrimination was almost instantaneous. Broadhurst and Rittenhouse – instigators of the disaster – heaped blame onto Captains Opan and Zi of the Ranger and Lightfoot. Zi could not defend herself from behind the bars of an Acamarian prison; Opan would be hauled in front of the Admiralty on May 20th . Solutions to the political debacle were less easy to find. Broadhurst and Rittenhouse’s gambit to save face had collapsed entirely; protestations of non-involvement in Acamarian politics were not easy to sell when Starfleet officers were sitting in POW cages alongside Sovereign Army soldiers, while the BGU Provisional government refused to release them.
Broadhurst’s excuses in Council session on the 20th were not well received. They were good excuses, generally; that the Acamarian general offensive had not been known beforehand; that Starfleet was technically within its legal right to seize the ships back, and that the BGU was not the legally recognised government of the planet anyway. They were all, certainly, truthful statements. What they were not, however, was an explanation for why exactly Starfleet had violated the sovereign space of Acamar by force of arms. “Don’t we have diplomats for this kind of nonsense, Peter?” Asked Nafros Xaall. Under fire from the proto-Unionists for failing in the first place and eschewed by many of the progressive factions for attempting such a callous violation of the interstellar sovereignty (in spirit, at a least), Broadhurst would make a formal promise that “No support, whether diplomatic, military or logistical, will be given to the Legitimate Acamarian Government without the assent of the Federation Security Council.”
It was an atypically concrete Broadhurst promise, which spoke to how exposed he felt in the aftermath of Barbary Coast. Acamar had been his project since the start; guiding the fragile clan-driven world into a model democracy – and future Federation member – had been a subtle ambition of his since his rise to Interstellar Affairs in 2258. With that hope now placed in jeopardy by the Klingons – and his stance on “Democratic Belligerence” seeming increasingly misguided – a promise to uphold the principles of the Prime Directive seemed like the right choice.[5] It was also a blatant lie
For a long time, it was unclear whether the Acamarian government in exile had already begun secret talks with the administration before Broadhurst made his declaration. Certain suggestions around military support and aid had been made to the Federation Charge d’Affaires on Argelius after the exiled government arrived; and that Federation Central took this serious enough to have their representatives flown to earth by the diplomatic cruiser USS Kelcie Mae at top speed; but whether the administration took it seriously before they arrived on earth is difficult to understand.[6] Certainly the complicated politics of Acamar - let alone the Acamarian government in exile – makes it difficult to prove who said what first and how much.[7]
General trends in the source material do, however, point to the defection of General Brill'Tek as the inflection point. Jers’Ai Brill’Tek – a gifted BGU commander with a significant personal following amongst the rank and file of the Gathering Unity had, by the time of Operation Barbary Coast, become increasingly disenchanted with the authoritarian turn of the Gatherer leadership. The encroachment of Klingon “advisors” – as well as a vocal and bitter falling out with General Lang of the Hayes Brigade – made it clear to Brill’Tek that his brief time as the golden boy of the BGU was over. On the 14th of May Brill’Tek would defect, taking nearly 3000 trained troops and an immense amount of stored war materials over to the Sovereignty lines. News of this coup would arrive on earth around the same time as the Sovereignty exiles, but it is distinctly possible that they knew of his defection well before the Federation Press did. Certain readings of Acamarian records suggest that some foreknowledge of Brill’Tek’s plans did exist – and that they may have had an influence on the requests the exiles would make of Broadhurst in the following days.[8]
The exiles would arrive on earth on the 16th of May, establishing themselves in Federation government property in Zagreb before being brought to a formal meeting with Broadhurst on the 19th.[9] This meeting- supposedly a preliminary introduction to the president – would be followed by a large, late-night conference on the 21st May. The official narrative of the Broadhurst government – and the President in his memoir – is that the second meeting was the site of the fateful promise of arms. With his government under the pressure and the Sovereign Officials pushing more and more information about Klingon military encroachment on Acamar, Broadhurst would promise – on the condition of support from the Federation Security Council – to send military aid to the Acamarian “Sovereignite” forces still on the planet.. The promise was more than nebulous “weapons” however: the President’s office would draw up a concrete list of equipment that would be sent: 9,000 Phaser Rifles and Carbines, 300 Photonic Mortars, 220 Armoured Transports and nearly 120 tons of medical and other support equipment. It was small by Starfleet standards, but an immense boon to the Acamarians, who were still largely fighting with Laser Rifles, Particle beam cannons and railgun-launchers. However, these arms shipments were all dependent on a council majority.
This “official” account does not paint Broadhurst in a good light. It certainly makes him seem extremely naïve, especially if he genuinely believed that the Acamarians could be mollified by a promise that had no real legs to stand on and a treaty that he had no legal right to agree to. It also does not explain how the Broadhurst government managed to draw up a formal roster for the shipments in one evening without any preliminary conversations – even if Starfleet Intelligence was aware of the logistical needs of the Acamarians, there is no way that SI could provide a clear enough picture of their shortages to draw up a list with such finality. Worse, this narrative makes no mention of the “cursed document”; the Tri’Lesta Pact.
The Tri’Lesta pact only emerges onto the record in July 2262; it is clear however that this was the crux of the meeting on the 16th. The short treaty, drawn up by Sovereignite Minister Vymor of Tri’Lesta called upon the Federation to agree to “support and recognition in perpetuity for the Ruling Council of Acamar” without specifying what exactly that meant. Worse, it committed that cursory promise of arms to record, and bound the UFP to maintain the Acamarian government in exile “through its eternal struggle for survival.” Broadhurst had no right to sign this treaty; he had no right even to contemplate signing it. And yet, he did. Why exactly he did have confounded many. It was unlikely that the Ruling Council would have gone over to the Klingons or Orion for support; perhaps propping up the Acamarians was, in his mind, the cornerstone of a campaign of brush-war style containment in the region. This does not explain why President of the United Federation of Planets was caught out and tied up by a treaty written by a minor power in a corner of the beta quadrant.
The best approach – followed by Chandra Li and most Interstellar Relations experts since Khitomer - is to understand it as a question of “interstellar self-respect”: that Broadhurst was willing to roll over for the Acamarians because his own IR theory was built on maintaining strong relations with the neutral powers. On a personal level, he had also built his professional reputation on normalising relations with Acamar and this government. Broadhurst did not like breaking promises, and his promises to the Acamarians – whether unspoken in his previous measures of support or concrete in his actual agreements to provide material support – predated that of his promise to the Federation Council.
Broadhurst was also generally convinced that he could always swing the council to his favour. “They are fickle people, like all politicians, but they know I make the right calls when it matters,” he would tell an aide earlier in the year. “The struggle is making the bastards remember that.” The president did not make his initial promise because he intended to go around the council from the start – he made the initial promise because he was certain that, with time, he could convince the council that he had been right all along. [10] It is distinctly possible that Broadhurst believed he could convince the Federation Security Council to ratify his own actions retroactively. This was not out-of-character for Broadhurst: his own knack for predicting the way the council was going was uncanny and had come in handy during the Dak’Rah affair and the crisis over the Strategic Resources Denial Act.[11]
What Broadhurst could not predict, however, was impact of the BGU on his assessment. The Banner of Gathering Unity – now in control of the majority of Acamar’s government centres and population areas – had become vindictive and arrogant in victory. With Sovereign forces scattered to highland areas and less populated continents, the BGU revelled in its newfound power. What it lacked, however, was any interstellar political legitimacy. The Klingon Empire and the vassal states of the ICR may have recognised them as the new government of Acamar, but most Federation members and allied worlds still regarded them as a usurping revolutionary government, one based around a collection of terrorists who had spent the last three years bombing foreign nationals and embassies across the planet.[12]
A rational government with a fragile interstellar position might have made steps to normalise relations or stabilise trade. Unfortunately, the sort of officials and bureaucrats on Acamar who would have made these suggestions to the BGU were the same sort of people that Gathering Unity were sending off to the firing squads as “disloyal clan enemies” of the Acamarian people. The revolutionary government’s internal stability had been maintained almost entirely by the external struggle; now that they were in power, the question of political direction was causing severe divides already.
The provisional government was extremely concerned about maintaining its own legitimacy – less to the interstellar stage and more to its own people; there were no Federation diplomats or Barolian merchants walking the streets of Acamarian cities with laser rifles. The BGU had just fought a 4 year long military campaign to push Federation influence off and allow the Acamarians to dictate terms to foreign powers. Now, with Klingon soldiers and advisors walking the streets, the need to prove the new government’s independence trumped any thoughts of letting the interstellar situation cool off. Flexing the muscles of the BGU in space through aggressive patrolling (often filmed for the benefit of propaganda holo-reels) and cargo seizures made it clear that the hated open door, open book policies of the Sovereign Ruling Council were over.
Many of the early seizures and stops were unauthorised: BGU officers flexing their muscles aboard the Starfleet surplus ships or ex-Klingon cutters wanting to remind merchants who was in charge while filling their pockets. Certainly, the stopping of the S.S. Granus Bay and the E.C.S. Jakarta Starburst had less to do with diplomacy than the debts the captain of the Acamarian cruiser Victor owed, and the cargoes of Dilithium and Pergium both ships carried.[13] After Barbary Coast, however, there was a clear move by the BGU to “encourage” external recognition through intimidation.
The use of “new customs rules” and “security” checks to intercept and detain traffic was blatant power projection by the new government, desperate to prove that it could maintain a monopoly on violence as well as the Star Fleet or Imperial Navy could. It was a nuisance and an irritation at first – a few pilfered cargos, forced bribes and roughing ups by Gatherer soldiers, but as the stopped ships went from a few to a dozen to dozens, it became difficult to ignore. Like a child picking at a scab, the BGU ensured that the wound in the Federation’s side that Acamar represented never really healed – instead, it began to fester, eating into the daily political arguments and pushing the annual “reform debate” aside for the third year in a row.
By the beginning of June, the Merchant Marine had issued advice against doing “all by necessary business” within Acamarian Space; Starfleet Auxiliary traffic had been routed through Barolia, much to the irritations of the Accountancy department who now had to pay out hefty Barolian “military transfer tariffs” for every vessel that moved through their space.[14] Most independent traders – and many merchant marine skippers as well – ignored the advisories. Acamar was still the most convenient waypoint between the Federation Core, Argelius and Klingon space; moving through Barolia added days – sometimes weeks – onto travel time due to subspace currents around the Azure Nebula.[15] For those in a hurry, going through Acamar still seemed like it was worth the risk.
The escalation in trade interdiction seems, on paper, to have been motivated by Klingon machinations. For the government at home, Acamar represented a key battleground internally – one that had, inadvertently, put the entire L’Rell government on the line. The creation of the Imperial Control Region had created more internal problems than it solved. The people – and the aristocracy – had been placated by the external propaganda coups for a while: but even after 4 months, the lack of tangible results from this “Supreme Security Region” was beginning to tell. For much of the Imperial Aristocracy, it appeared that the only beneficiary of all the new rules was the military – especially the Imperial Navy, who were happily filling their coffers with prize money seized under the rules of the ICR. Acamar represented an opportunity to circumvent the military bureaucracy’s monopoly on extortion; even if the Imperial and Navy were there first, their involvement with the BGU was very hands’ off, leaving plenty of opportunity for the Great Houses to supersede them as the primary patrons of the Acamarians.[16]
Political pressure from the great houses – notably Duras, Durak and Kozak – would be placed on the Chancellor from the onset; the presence of Kozak and Durak agents on the planet during the fall of the capital was further evidence of their desire to carve out a fiefdom in the disputed area separate from the military. L’Rell quietly acquiesced; perhaps more to balance the control of the burgeoning military elite against the aristocrats. Their antipathy towards each other reached a level only possible when a meritocratic body is forced to work alongside one where blood line was more important than competence. The Tellarite trader Grathak had a front row seat to this on Acamar after the BGU took over, when he was stopped by a Gatherer soldier at a customs station at threatened with detention.[17]
“It was abundantly clear to me that the oaf was, in that haphazard fashion of all soldiers, attempting to force a bribe out of me in exchange for my own freedom. I was insulted! But only, however, because he did not have the grace and favour to ask for the bribe properly. I would have paid the poor fellow, but some Klingon martinet appeared behind him and told him to send me on my way. The Acamarian looked awfully put out – arguing that the Kozaks said it was the right thing to do, and that they “needed their cut” or something along that line – but the smooth-headed Klingon soldier waved me through before his comrade under arms could stop him. That’s Imperialism, I suppose.”
This sort of economic interference from the houses annoyed the military, but not as much as the presence of noble advisors within the halls of power on Acamar. Where talks for arms with the Imperial Army had stalled after the victory over the Sovereign Council, the great houses were eager to hawk their outdated military equipment over to the Acamarians in exchange for more influence; influence that seeped into the decision-making bodies of the BGU, encouraging them to flaunt their power and hinder the flow of trade in search of prestige and prizes. The great houses simple did not care if the Acamarians brought down the ire of the Federation or the Orions; many of them goaded the BGU into escalating, arguing that they couldn’t prove themselves as “true Klingon allies” until they’d beaten the earther in battle properly. So, they kept pushing the line, seizing more cargo for more tenuous reasons, eager to fill their own pockets and pay their Klingon creditors back. It was only a matter of time until they pushed too far.
Starship Diplomacy
On the 30th of May, three ships – including the Starfleet auxiliary vessel S.S. Buniak – attempted to cut across the edge of Acamarian space. It was a risky move, but the ships were in a hurry, and they had all gotten away with it in the past. This time, they were not so lucky. The three were travelling together when they were intercepted by the Acamarian Cruiser Victor; the Victor ordered all three ships to heave to and prepare for inspection. The two merchant vessels, sitting under the guns of the Victor with little more than particle cannons to defend themselves, complied. The Buniak didn’t.
Why exactly the Buniak’s skipper, Jay Ndiaye, refused the search is debated; his place as captain of an auxiliary transport may have made the prospect of a “customs” search by a hostile government risky. The nebulous state of Acamarian legal sovereignty was another issue; the Stellar Travel Accepted Rights treaty would have stipulated Acamar’s right to search the ship under their own rules, but the lack of clarity on whether the BGU was a continuation of the Sovereign Council, or a new authority entirely may have given Ndiaye more confidence in their own rights.
The cargo – 25 IBM-McDonnell Industrial MXI Replicators destined for Starbases 10 and 24 – added another urgency to avoid boarding. The MXI was the most advanced industrial replication machine in regular production at the time and was increasingly becoming a vital part of any Starfleet repair and refit facility. Letting one of the devices – let alone twenty-five – fall into the hands of a hostile power would be a disaster on multiple levels. Ndiaye also had a reputation as a risk-taker generally; the Buniak was known for courses that went far too close to the demarcation line to shave a few hours off a transit.[18]
Whatever the real reasons that Ndiaye refused to stop would go down with the Buniak. When the auxiliary vessel refused to stop, the Victor would pursue, easily overhauling the Starmaster class ship. It is unclear as to whether the Victor fired to disable or destroy – logic suggests that crippling the transport was the goal if the cargo was to be seized. Intentions mattered little, though: the Victor’s laser cannons would strike the Buniak in her antideuterium tanks. Containment failure was near instantaneous, and the Buniak would be lost with all hands.
Buniak’s loss would cause outrage in Federation Central and upset the Diplomatic Corp’s long-term plans to stabilise the Acamar situation. It brought the BGU’s posturing to the galactic stage, planting it alongside Klingon raiding and Orion piracy as an absolute threat to free movement. Nafros Xaall would lead the charge in the Federation Council, brandishing the manifest of the Buniak and its crew roster as a prop, listing the litany of stopped ships and trumped-up charges as he demanded action. He was not alone: even the more dovish councillors in the OSF-P were outraged by these flagrant attacks on the Freedom of the Stars. The fact that the attack had happened outside of declared Acamarian space was even more galling to the sections of Federation politics who held the sanctity of member world autonomy above everything else.[19]
This was the perfect turn of events for Broadhurst, politically; as much as the deaths of the Buniak’s crew were a tragedy, his prediction that events would soon create an opportunity to make good on his promise to the Acamarians was bearing fruit. The Gatherers had delivered – in many senses – the seeds of their own destruction, by aggravating the UFP enough that the council would back their opponents with arms. It had its risks – the Klingons certainly weren’t going to approve – but Broadhurst was unconcerned. “They won’t be happy about it”, he told the security council in a preliminary discussion. “But the Klingons have their rules of engagement, and honestly? They’ll view it as an insult if we don’t meet them in the field of battle in some way.”
It is important to understand that Broadhurst understood the concept of “Reverse Clauswitzeanism” differently to his successors. It is true that – unlike Wescott, Vale or McClaren – Broadhurst did understand that Klingon diplomatic practice and theory were completely alien to the human (and, largely, Federation) way of doing things. He had not, however, figured out the whole picture. The Broadhurst Doctrine – as he self-dubbed it at the time, much to the glee of the press – was built on an idea that a “proportional response” was more effective with the Klingon Empire than a diplomatic summit: that tip and run raids and minefields were a more effective peace effort than diplomatic conferences and treaties.
To an extent, he was right. To many traditionalists in the Empire, peace talks were an insult of sorts; a method only used by an enemy who thought you weren’t worth fighting. Diplomacy was a military tactic, designed to outmanoeuvre or unbalance an enemy before open warfare began. This wasn’t a universal worldview – no worldview is – but it was certainly the dominant theory in Klingon philosophy. Even the modernists in the military bureaucracy were distrustful of the Federation's “fetish for diplomats” which led them to make even the suspected war criminal Dak’Rah, son of Ra’ul a “peace envoy”.[20] A diplomatic solution over Acamar would be interpreted by the Empire as either an admission of defeat or an invitation to further conflict; the equivalent of a gentleman’s challenge or a declaration of Ushaan-Tor.
This did not, however, mean that the only alternative was violence. “Klingon diplomatic posturing is no swing of a bat’leth”, E.Z. Muir would famously remark. “Advantage can come from more than brutal blows. In fact, subtle attacks – the incision of a dagger, the subtle swipe of a boot to sweep an opponent off their feet – are more lethal than a fist to the face.”[21] These subtleties to Klingon “diplomatic warfare” are exemplified by the slow – and steady – militarisation of Acamar. The Imperial Fleet and Army could have easily overwhelmed the Acamarians the way they rolled over the Enolians and Kriosians in previous years, but they understood how important Acamar was in the UFP’s political mind – far more than the Acamarians or the UFP itself realised.
Acamar could be brought into the Empire, through subtle pressures; advisors, military “volunteers”, support facilities and regional “piracy” that edged out Federation interests in favour of Klingon ones. And it worked – despite consternation and handwringing, the UFP did not baulk at Klingon involvement on Tandar until it was far too late; the same was true on Prospero, Cajitar and Jit. The Acamarians had put this strategy at risk; their dogged desire to appease their patrons and masters in the Imperial Aristocracy put the project at risk by invoking the wrath of the Federation.
Sturka – in an early bout of fatalism – would warn L’Rell that the Federation could “easily supply and arm the Acamarian Sovereignties without our knowledge and would not accept our hegemony over the planet so long as they could do so.”[22] L’Rell – despite her streaks of ruthlessness – was still unwilling to play overt aggressor to the Federation when others could do so on the Empire’s behalf. Escalation on Acamar also risked escalating Federation security levels, exposing ongoing infiltration operations on Altair and Orion. Despite Sturka’s concerns about Federation involvement, the Chancellor seemed to accept a proxy war on Acamar as the cost of doing business; even if Starfleet phasers went into the hands of the exile government’s armies, they could do very little to stop Klingon industry from using Acamar as an entrepôt into the rest of the galaxy; or prevent a military build-up in the space above the planet.
However, it turned out that Broadhurst, Sturka and L’Rell had all misjudged the intentions and direction of the Federation Council. Broadhurst would discover this on the 5th of June, during a special session on the Buniak incident. The day before, the President had briefed the cabinet on the incident and the administration's ongoing negotiations with the Ruling Council. This was the first time that the suggestion of shipments was made to the Federal Commissariat as a whole. The cabinet was deeply divided; many like Yurada of New Paris and Duvaa Schuyona considered it to be anathema to a peaceful method of government, while hawks like Starfleet Commissioner Vi’S and Diplomatic Affairs Commissioner Photsi wholeheartedly supported it. The cabinet was split; so much so that Broadhurst would not risk a vote, and instead offered to take the issue directly to the full Federation Council, which satisfied only was accepted as the best course of action. “At least then it will be totally constitutional,” Attorney General Agudon would comment, in a remarkable moment of foreshadowing.
Passing some form of legislative support for arms seemed like a cakewalk. Calls for action across the Federation were growing every day; even the peace-mongers in the Vulcan Caucus were struggling to maintain their traditional passivity amongst the public outcry, especially after the Cunard liner U.E.S. Rigelia was boarded by an Acamarian “customs team” whose poor conduct and essential robbery of the passengers was top news across the first week of June. The public, merchant interests and political class were all united around the need to “restore order in the region”. The groundswell of support would not last, however; even by the 10th, opposition to any sort of direct action was beginning to emerge. Ambassador Sarek would note that “the desire to ‘show the Acamarians who was in charge’ was infectious, but not endemic: those with the rationality to see past the emotional reaction could see that the peaceful solution was not only the most logical: it was the only way that a General Interspace War could be avoided.”[23]
Pygos Sh’Belulos of Andoria would speak after Xaall’s tirade. Speaking with much more control, Sh’Belulos did manage to support Xaall’s sentiment. “We are a peaceful people, but not cowards. We have principles, and they need defending from all comers. The Freedom of the Stars that we so doggedly believe in must be backed by action if it is to mean more than words. And it must be an action that reminds the aggressors of the quadrant that we are not incapable of defending ourselves.” As Broadhurst held his nerve, Sh’Belulos played their hand. “I now propose a resolution for the deployment of a trade protection task force to Acamar to ensure that our commerce is free and safe no matter the political circumstance.”[24] It was an unexpected move; even Broadhurst acknowledged it as one in his memoirs – and one that completely changed the agenda on Acamar.
Suddenly, the council was electrified by Sh’Belulo’s resolution. And why not? That vague authorisation to “protect and support free trade” had been the justification for both successful Orion Police actions, as well as the Kzinti border raids, and had allowed Starfleet to work independently of civilian meddling to deliver results. This usually allowed Starfleet Command to manage the expectations and control the belligerence of political outrage. However, Sh’Belulos was not interested in letting Starfleet operate with a free hand. “I have no intention of letting them off the leash”, they told AR Vale. “They will get the job done.”[25]
Broadhurst did his best to keep up; “Certainly, I can support the deployment of the Star Fleet to protect trade; and certainly, I can understand why the honourable councillor for Andoria believes that a blockade would protect our trade. Nominally, it would do so. This is not, however, M’talas Prime or the Agosoria Nebula. Acamar’s place so close to our contact line with the Klingon Empire makes the wide-scope solution of a trade protection force unsuitable. Such action would not only risk a confrontation with the Imperial Navy but may even encourage one. Worse, this administration is more concerned with ending instability in the region, not merely containing it. The boil must be lanced, my deal councillors; not merely covered with a plaster.”[26]
Broadhurst’s direct approach had merit, but it simply felt too military to the Federation Council. It was, to a certain extent; certainly, the idea of arming the Acamarians stunk too much of militarism at the time, in a way that a Starfleet task force didn’t in the public mind. The idea that Starfleet could deliver what D.R. Cobalt sardonically called “a humanitarian military operation” existed – and still does, to an extent – as fully formed construct in the political sphere.[27] The Orion Police actions of the 2190s, 2210s and 2230s tended to fit the mould: so long as one ignored the spiralling cost, length, and butcher’s bill, each campaign to end the Orion slave trade resulted in success. Broadhurst knew this, as did most of Starfleet; the council did not, however, which is why with a resounding majority, they rejected Broadhurst’s counterargument with jeers. He had been outflanked by political inertia for the first time. It would not be the last.
The Federation Council had two paths to authorise the deployment of military power to the region. Article 42 of the Federation Charter would allow the Council to directly authorise a military response under its own authority, with clear time limits and rules of engagement.[28] This was how the Orion Police Actions had been authorised; through a slow, deliberate process that ensured that the council could not rush into military action while leaving significant opportunity for negotiations to occur. [29] These were noble intentions; but they were noble intentions that turned military authorisation into a weeks-long process. This had been okay during the Orion Police Actions; it had allowed the council and Starfleet to develop social and business outrage into a coherent political programme and military operation with red lines, achievable goals, and enforceable rules.
Sh’Belulos and the Unionists (as they were beginning to call themselves) did not have time for that. In their minds, that overt “constitutionalism” was simply obstructionism. Instead, they proposed triggering Article 18 of the STAR (Stellar Travel Accepted Rights) treaty, which allowed the Security Council to enforce military action as the “guarantor of the treaty” without the consent of a “violating party”. On paper, Article 18 is a very dangerous piece of legislation; there are no oversight methods, no checks or balances; no way for the council to bring the inertia of military action to a halt; it is designed to deliver a swift result in situations like Acamar, when the S.T.A.R treaty is being abused.
It is also, however, not meant to be used alone. Its only purpose is to provide a legal conduit for Article 42 of the Federation Charter; to allow an authorised military action to be rendered legally sound by the STAR treaty. But that was not how the Unionists wanted to use it.[30] “In the mind of Sh’belulos,” Wescott would recall, “Article 42 was the shield Starfleet used to cover for its failures.” Others within the Unionists were franker. “They’ll just use ’42 to say that the mining and anti-piracy ops fufil what we ask,” Yuba Atwater told Nafros Xaall on the 9th. “We’re not going to let them wriggle out of actually doing something.”[31] Starfleet couldn’t wriggle out of the time-sensitive directives the Security Council could authorise, but they were also solely responsible to that council – and the president. Activating the STAR treaty without Article 42 would deliver a prompt support; but one without any brakes of any kind, beholden only to the office of the President and the Security Council.
A more organised Starfleet Command could have made this clear to the council if more to cover themselves from future recrimination than anything else. Shukar certainly would have reminded the council that by demanding action now, the council would essentially deprive itself of the ability to oversee the operation itself. But Shukar wasn’t Commander, Starfleet anymore; Rittenhouse was. And Rittenhouse wasn’t going to stand up in front of the council and offer them democratic oversight. He wasn’t going to stand in front of them at all. He would leave that to the Chief of Staff, Dai Mehkan.
Dai Mehkan has a poor historical reputation. They are seen as a weak-willed and ineffective bureaucrat who hid behind their office and let subordinates like Shukar and Rittenhouse dictate policy. Some even see them as a useful idiot who empowered the militarists and confirmed their distaste for the “official mind” of Starfleet. It is generally unfair to call Mehkan, a decorated and longstanding flag officer, an idiot. It is even difficult to pin the accusation of “commanding a desk” on them; Mehkan had an accomplished career as a field commander before they became an admiral, having commanded USS Nimitz and Hood on 3-year missions in the Alpha Quadrant. Even their record as an administrative official is generally good. Their tenure as chief of Fleet Operating Supplies in the early 2250s was one of the few bright lights in Starfleet logistics before T’Kuvma’s war. As chief of staff they correctly understood the need for a unified command before the war, and had argued such.
The problem with Mehkan is that they lacked conviction in a crowd. On the frontier, or in a minor office, they could make decisions alone, with certain faith in their ability to succeed. As part of a deliberative body or chair of a committee, they struggled to commit to anything. “[Mehkan] is far more worried about everyone being onside than what they’re actually onside with,” Decker would remark to his wife in 2260 when Mehkan intervened in a turf war between Starfleet Tactical and the 1st Fleet. “What do they believe? That we all must agree. What kind of fucking belief is that? They’re Chief of Staff, not a kindergarten teacher.”
Mehkan had managed under Shukar, mainly because they agreed on the agenda. Mehkan’s own plans for internal reform matched that of Shukar, and though the former would receive the credit, it was Mehkan who made the reform of Starfleet Operations and Operating Forces command possible.[32] But that working relationship with COMSTAR did not survive Rittenhouse. Mehkan found him unapproachably rude, and Rittenhouse thought Mehkan was a gormless idiot. The natural solution to their antipathy (and, frankly, Mehkan’s fear of confrontation) was that they rarely talked to each other. This worked, usually, but now Mehkan was expected to stand on his own and argue against a policy plan he knew Rittenhouse supported.
If Mehkan had any political skill, he would have told the council on the evening of June 10th that using S.T.A.R to get what they want deprived them of control; he would have within his right to do so, and even to suggest the correct way to let them deliver the close blockade of Acamar they wanted. This would have meant going against Rittenhouse – and, if allegations about the closed-door meeting between the President and Mehkan during the 6:30pm recess are true, Broadhurst too. By early evening, Broadhurst had accepted he wasn’t going to get his arms shipments authorised. Undeterred, he shifted tack, fixating instead on Operation Introspection.
Introspection should not really have existed as a detailed plan. The operation called for a cordon around Acamar to gradually close over the process of six weeks, isolating Klingon supply shipments and trade to Acamar, forcing the BGU to the diplomatic table. The second half of the plan – the part that both Broadhurst and Rittenhouse fixated upon – was much less interested in what would happen if cooler heads prevailed. If the BGU decided to stick it out, Introspection detailed the deployment first of a close blockade around the system, followed by “the delivery of military support for the legitimate government” through overt and covert means. The final, most concerning element of Introspection involved activating Operation Groesbeek; a contested landing by the 2nd Strategic Aerospace Mobile Unitary Regiment (SAMUR) in the capital province.[33]
No one really expected Introspection to be entirely completed; even Rittenhouse had only drawn up the 2nd and 3rd elements as an exercise in thorough planning. Broadhurst, however, knew that it gave him an opportunity. Alone in a “briefing” with Mehkan, the President would use Introspection as a cudgel to browbeat Mehkan into submission, allegedly pointing out that giving the council an existing plan would prevent them from asking for the impossible. Mehkan folded; his presentation of a limited form of Introspection is almost word-for-word the same as the one Broadhurst would use in his own memoirs.[34] Mehkan’s cross-examination by the council – yet another rarity in a session that was now entering its 15th hour – was excruciating to watch.[35] “I have never, ever seen an Admiral fold like that,” remarked Rebecca Javid, Paris correspondent for the Times. “Not even one made of origami paper.” Mehkan’s responsibility – both as a Starfleet Officer and as one of the senior members of the Admiralty – was to advise and inform the council based on the combined experience and knowledge of the Starfleet. This was something they had done before, going to bat for Shukar, Nogura and even Rittenhouse during the last few years.
Mehkan’s key criticism of the ruling was that the Article 18 of the STAR treaty wouldn’t give Klingon Command the legal right to a close blockade; and that a required timetable to deliver a blockade would prevent “the establishment of a task force with the strength and capacity to deliver the operational aims of the council.” This was a prepared argument, designed by Mehkan and their staff to shift attention on their preferred plan, Operation Forthright, which was more concerned with closing off Klingon entry routes at the source.[36]. Forthright, he argued, could be altered to act as a partial blockade of Acamar “alongside other indirect measures of containment”; one that would stay within the rules of engagement outline by the Directive 1832-B and the Strategic Resource Denial Act.[37] What they were not expecting was their arguments against direct intervention and in favour of a more meted, arm’s length approach being undermined by counterpoints from councillors who seemed much more informed than the Chief of Staff.
“Yunav [of Aurelia] began reeling off this list of reasons why Mehkan’s option [Forthright] wouldn’t work; that the ships were in the wrong place, that 2nd Fleet couldn’t operate so far from its Starbases, that we’d be ceding a home field advantage to the Klingons and Orions…there was information there that Mehkan clearly hadn’t seen; or, at the very least, hadn’t expected a councillor to have at hand.”[38]
Rittenhouse would later admit, during the Griggs inquiry, that he had been passing confidential information to Unionist and Originalist councillors and staffers since early 2261; while he would never directly admit to undermining Mehkan’s statement, it is abundantly clear that the information the Yunav, Sh’Belulos and others like Paidamoyo Chiroto were working with had come directly from Rittenhouse’s office.[39] Mehkan was unable to respond to their insider knowledge; certainly, his equivocating on the council floor did nothing to convince those still on the fence that a more reasonable response was Starfleet’s position. “Eventually, Sh’Belulos fixed poor Mehkan with a stare and asked, ‘Admiral, if we order you to blockade Acamar, you will do it, won’t you? You don’t seem like you have a better plan at hand.’ Mehkan just nodded. 30 years of space experience, 10 years of climbing the San Fransico greasy pole, and he just folded to a jackrabbit like Sh’Belulos.”[40]
The council would vote for division at 9:00pm Paris time; the only delay in voting was a surprise amendment by the ambassador for Turnstile, who managed to slip in a measure supporting “the opportunity for the council to amend or extent this affirmation of military action with further indirect measures in support of the key aim of the operation.”[41]
Broadhurst maintained a brave face as he announced the results (47 in favour, 30 against), but in private he seethed at Mehkan’s uselessness.[42] Most interestingly, he supposedly questioned the interference of someone in Starfleet, pointing a finger indirectly at Rittenhouse when he told a staffer that “some fucker in the Presidio is trying to pull the rug out from under us.” Many have cited this as Rittenhouse’s first action against the civilian government; a clear sign that he was willing to subvert and co-opt democratic norms for his own agenda.
Except, of course, that Rittenhouse never had any problems with Broadhurst; more evidence exists that the fall of the latter was critical to Rittenhouse’s anti-democratic turn. The choice of who Rittenhouse gave information to – and the result – suggests more that the Admiral believed he was helping the president, which tells us less about his anti-democratic tendencies and more about how little San Franciso and Paris were talking at this point. Even with the close relationship the two had, Rittenhouse still felt about direct communication and interaction with the President; so much so that Commander,Starfleet would find out about the existence of the further action amendment on UFPB News with the rest of the Federation.
It felt, in some way, like everyone had got what they wanted. The hardliners on the council had gotten their “punitive expedition”, as Wescott miserably put it; Rittenhouse got a chance to flex his muscles as Commander, Starfleet; and Broadhurst had been given a sliver of legal authority to make good on his promise to the Acamarians. The Diplomatic Commission would issue a formal ultimatum to the Acamarian “Gathering Unity Authority” demanding that they “end customs inspections outside of internal sovereign zone of their star system” by the 14th, with the Federation Security Council providing authorisation for “military action to protect trade” from that day onwards.[43] The admiralty senior staff would be summoned to meeting shortly afterwards, where Rittenhouse briefed the department chiefs on what was to come. They were unimpressed, especially with Mehkan’s inability to push back against the council. “Is this Gunboat diplomacy, Vaughan?” asked Ty Nagawa (Chief of Stafleet Tactical). “Let’s call it Starship Diplomacy” Rittenhouse replied.
Later that evening on Orion – roughly 8:15am Paris time on the 11th - H.W. Rogers would receive a message from the Acamarian counsel on Orion; it was terse, written on poorly repurposed notepaper by the new Gatherer-appointed minister. News of the STAR treaty ultimatum had led to expected result; The Acamarian government had withdrawn from the rights treaty; worse, they had seized all Federation assets on planet and impounded all UFP-registered vessels in system. “It appears,” remarked Nogura, “that the Gatherers aren’t going to roll over because we asked nicely.”
Waist Deep in the Big Muddy
Matt Decker had just arrived on the Constellation’s bridge for the 1st watch when the emergency order to Acamar arrived. “I heard the high-pitched whine of the flash-fax over my shoulder. By the time I turned round, Lieutenant Ru had it in hand.”[44] The order – straight from COMSTAR himself was frank.
USS CONSTELLATION TO BREAK OFF CURRENT ACTIVITY AND MAKE BEST SPEED FOR ACAMAR SYSTEM. CONSTELLATION TO FORM LEAD SHIP IN TRADE PROTECTION TASK FORCE. USS HONG KONG, AG ROBINSON, ERNEST KING, REV-UAN AND SYNAK TO JOIN CONSTELLATION AT CO-ORDINATES B-ACA-1SD-645. ADDITIONAL ORDERS RELATING TO OPERATION “INTERLUDE” TO BE TRANSMITTED BY KLICOM AND 2ND FLEET COMMANDERS.
A further section added, almost as an afterthought:
COMMANDING OFFICER USS CONSTELLATION IS BREVETTED TO RANK OF FLEET CAPTAIN FOR DURATION OF “INTERLUDE”.
Decker’s bridge crew offered him congratulations. “I told them to can it. There was nothing congratulate me over. Now we’re heading straight into the jaw of this Acamarian nightmare without even half the strength we need. I dread to think what might – will happen when the Klingons find out what we’re doing.”[45]
Operation Interlude – a curtailed version of Introspection – would go into effect on the 15th of June. Interlude’s task force was miniscule compared to the demands of Sh’Belulos, for a multitude of reasons. With the continuation of Kadis-Khot II and 2nd Fleet conducting a multi-front antipiracy operation at the same time, few ships could be spared immediately. The task force lead, USS Constellation, had been re-directed from a Pulsar study near Barolia to lead the operation; the frigates and cruisers of CRURON 30 were, in fact, a synthesis of vessels from CRURONs 14 and 16; USS A.G. Robinson had only been on active service for five weeks. It was a paltry collection of vessels, really; a symptom of Mehkan’s inability to push back against Rittenhouse and Broadhurst and create the space for cooler heads to prevail.
Decker was correct to worry about how few forces he had at his disposal. By h-hour on the 15th, he had at his disposal a mere eight ships; one heavy cruiser, 2 light cruisers, 3 destroyers and 2 frigates with which had was meant to protect commerce across nearly 15 cubic light years.[46] Even with the travel restrictions and now very clear danger to trade, shielding all traffic from the Acamarians was essentially impossible. What traffic could be herded into convoys was already doing so undern the purview of 2nd Fleet and the Federation Border Patrol, but this only accounted for about 48% of all trade in the region, and only 68% of Federation-flagged tonnage.
The intelligence picture was even worse; Starfleet Intelligence’s information gathering mission on Acamarian fleet movements – Operation Bovine Incursion – was dead on arrival; the other operations in the region (Cornhole and One-Night-Stand) were even less useful to Decker.[47] Even the overall goal of Interlude evaded him. The priority orders from San Francisco emphasised “the importance of restricting Acamarian freedom of movement within treaty space”, while the operational plan for Interlude (which had been written by KLICOM with confirmation by Paris) emphasised “trade protection over search-and-destroy activity”. Crucially, Klingon Command and Starfleet Headquarters seemed to disagree over red lines; despite having a more defensive mindset, Decker’s orders from Admiral Paris gave him purview to act within the 3 light year limit; something that Starfleet Command did not.
Decker stepped up to the thankless task with typical brusqueness. “When you’re wading through hell, the one thing they tell you to do is keep going”, he told his wife. “So what else am I meant to do?” Decker would split the force into three mutually supporting groups, with Constellation paired with the two frigates, Hong Kong with the Synak and USS A.G. Robinson with Xerxes and Ch’Fnalliuk. From the 15th, the three groups move coreward from the rendezvous to form a cordon along the main trade routes, acting as, in Decker’s words, “a moving cordon between Acamar and the main trade corridor.”[48] Crucially, his force would operate mostly on the far side of Acamar from the Klingons; an overt attempt by Decker to avoid a confrontation with the Imperial Navy.
It is unclear if the Klingons noticed Interlude at the operational level. Strategically, they were aware of it; the name appears in Imperial Intelligence documentation, but it appears that for most of June they thought it was part of the anti-piracy operations 2nd Fleet was conducting along the whole Barolia highway.[49] The Acamarians were certainly aware. Their withdrawal from the STAR treaty and seizure of Federation assets coincided with a upscale campaign against the trade lanes, under the guise of “asset reclamation”; that they were simply seizing back the significant economic and financial assets the UFP had stolen from the Acamarian people in “kind”. Even with their home advantage, however, the presence of the new Starfleet task force was enough to alter the balance, in the short term, at least. Decker’s use of the more manoeuvrable frigates and destroyers to pin the BGU forces – a skilful development of “Mendez Column” tactics in a more static form – dissuaded many attacks on trade early on, as the gatherer crews soon discovered that facing a Constitution Class Starship took more than ideological fervour. Constellation and AG Robinson would both be involved in direct confrontations; both times, the Starfleet ships forced the BGU to back off without endangering merchant ships. “Interventions” on neutral shipping, which peaked in the week before the 15th at 25, dropped to only 4 in the seven days after the beginning of Interlude.[50]
Despite statistical success in the first week of Interlude, Decker remained apprehensive. “I don’t think this will be over in a week, Jane. I know what you and boys will hear on the news, but don’t believe it.” Nevertheless, the Council – and Command – were buoyant about the success of Interlude. Rittenhouse would tell April that he expects to return Constellation to exploratory duty by the end of the month, and the whole operation wound up by the end of July.
For Broadhurst, the Acamarian’s apparently decision to back off presented more issues than solution. Arms to Acamar and regime change on the planet itself was still the primary aim of his administration, both internally and externally. Even if the agreement to the Acamarians was not public, the text of it was largely known within government; his obligation to the Federations “gallant Acamarian allies” would almost certainly hang over him in a tight election campaign against the increasingly belligerent proto unionists. Worse, the Sovereign government in-exile was growing increasingly tetchy about the mood in Paris; Decker’s initial success had translated into a litany of “mission accomplished” declarations amongst the capital’s elite, one which sidelined the long-term concerns of the Acamarians in favour of a short-term victory for the “Freedom of the Stars”.
Broadhurst was trying to be opportune about when to drop the arms shipments into the equation; finding the balance within the Security Council would be much harder than finding it in the General Assembly Council. The Security Council’s membership remained dominated by pre-war political titans; even Sarek, somehow the Freshman member of the Security Council in 2256, was increasingly a political relic in the wake of the 2260 and 2261 electoral cycles, which had filled the General Council with the belligerent politicians who would go on to form the Charterites and Unionists. The 12 members of the Security Council were unlikely to vote for military aid – let alone a binding treaty – based on the sway of public opinion. By the 20th the reeling success of Interlude was undermining any possibility of escalation; Broadhurst seems to have considered changing tack over the next week towards passive support, suggesting to his press secretary that an argument for “arms for Acamar” might have a direct appeal to the public, eschewing his traditional disregard for public relations.
The Acamarian decision to escalate from the 21st seems unintuitive; so much so that many conspiracists both amongst the reactionaries and the Sevrinite circle would argue that either Broadhurst, Rittenhouse or the Sovereign Exiles had orchestrated their actions. Two explanations present themselves. Firstly, that of Broadhurst and the Tellar school historians in the 2310s, which argue that the Acamarians were compelled by “national honour” and “social duress” to act against a greater power; that they felt, as Kristina Rupa put it, “a need to be ‘the mouse that roared’ as to underline their importance in posterity”.[51] This view has some credence, so long as you believe that the Acamarians had no astro-political awareness.
The second view – more technical perhaps, but rather more reasonable – is based on understanding the level of control the Klingon aristocracy was exerting over Acamar by summer 2262. The opening of the Klingon archives – especially the house archives – has largely transformed our understanding of the intentions of the BGU government. What is abundantly clear from the conversations between the Gatherers and their patron houses is that the offensive action after the 21st was much more rational than it was emotional. The Great Houses, especially Durak, viewed the BGU as being too “timid”, and a liability to their growing soft power in the region. Certainly, the language of one letter to a BGU commander from Korros of Durak heavily implied that unless the Gatherers gave Starfleet some form of bloody nose, their support would be withdrawn. The loss of aristocratic support from Acamar was, contrary to established opinion at the time, much more of a danger than that of the Imperial Government. While much of the support from the Empire itself was cursory – even entirely hypothetical at this point – the Great houses were providing much more tangible backing to the BGU. The Gatherer’s grand social reforms and economic plans were largely built on good relations with the Duras, Duras and Kozak, whether as customers for raw materials or as suppliers of Duotronic computers and technicians.[52]
The withdrawal of aristocratic backing would almost certainly bring the social element of the Gatherer revolution to a halt, risking the return of the Ruling Council. Thus, the Acamarians were compelled to act – not out of any direct spite for Starfleet, but more to protect their own revolution based on the understanding that their Klingon Patrons would support them; or, more likely, the Imperial Government itself. “I don’t care what the Durak say,” the BGU Autarch Lo’Chau would tell a general, “I care what the Imperial Navy does.”
The great houses themselves had no real intention of backing the Acamarians; contemporary claims (influenced largely by the wholesale destruction of house autonomy the year afterwards) argue that they did not have the forces or resources available to challenge Starfleet themselves. Archival evidence from the houses themselves suggests a more craven explanation; they simply didn’t want to do it themselves. Despite L’Rell’s government reforms and the disaster of the Raktajino Revolution, many in the ostensibly loyal houses still viewed central government and the Imperial Navy as ancillaries to their own ambitions. Why weaken internal retinues and fleets, risking a loss of income from tax collection and privateering, when the Imperial Navy could act on your behalf?
Of course, they could never ask this directly; an overt request for military assistance from the Imperial Armed Forces would risk handing over your influence and control to the burgeoning military-bureaucratic elite. But the Imperial Navy could not ignore a Starfleet intervention in Acamarian space. As much as Sturka would protest otherwise, the great houses (especially Duras) were aware of the strategic interest in Acamar – they just did not regard it as being of more importance than their economic interest. The great houses of this period were experts in venal short-termism, and nothing else exemplifies this than overtly egging on a crisis for the slight possibility of increased profit margins.
The Acamarian escalation in late June and early July came in two forms. First, customs inspections were expanded to all ships, as were contraband seizures; the introduction of more Klingon-built cutters based on the E-D1 and I-1 “raptors” which had held back due to technical issues allowed the BGU to throw its weight around more effectively.[53] Operating in pairs or trios, the “attack groups” would pin merchant ships in place and prevent them from fleeing, allowing customs teams to board them and arrest the crews for “evading lawful inspection.” The second and more lethal form was overtly aimed at Starfleet. The BGU’s top-of-line ships were tasked with pushing well beyond the 3 light year limit in search of Starfleet ships on escort. Equipped with Imperial Navy scanning equipment (almost certainly “liberated” from fleet stores on Mastocal or Kuvat), these ships – both the two ex-Freedom class ships and 4 D4-As that had been “donated” by House Durak in early June – could often spot and close with Starfleet ships without being detected.[54] Once on a merchant convoy’s temple, the Acamarian ships would begin to make spoiling runs on the convoy. These were aimed less at overt destruction but more at spooking the convoy commodore into ordering the ships to scatter or forcing the escort vessel to break off and pursue to Acamarian ships.
This second tactic – quickly named “cow tipping” by Matt Decker and his largely North American heritage crew – was both more annoying and harder to predict than the customs “inspections.” Merchant skippers – many of whom, despite being Federation-flagged, were professional blockade runners and customs evaders – could be relied upon to find new and inventive ways to avoid the BGU attack groups. The convoy buzzing tactics were much riskier. Acamarian commanders’ attacks were extremely bold, surprising even the most seasoned veterans of the Klingon War. The frigate Victor was known for making extremely close passes of Starfleet ships; in one mock-attack on Constellation, she would pass only 55 meters under her keel; close enough that the Constellation’s Ventral shields were damaged by the magnetic shock. The Ontaz (one of the D4-As) fired three blank-loaded photonic torpedoes at a convoy near hd-15612, causing a nervous convoy commodore to order the group to scatter; two of the five merchantmen would be captured or destroyed by Klingon privateers in the next 3 days.
Decker knew he was being provoked by these attacks; orders about the restricted rules of engagement were reiterated and convoy commodores’ orders to maintain formation, but it was only going to be a matter of time before someone blinked. “I have good people, but it only takes one mistake before this all blows up in my face.” Even with the arrival of USS Lexington and Qingdao on the 25th, Decker’s force remained on the backfoot, forced to act passively by political realities. The Acamarians had no such limitation. In fact, the arrival of another Constitution Class on the scene only encouraged them to push harder. On the 28th, Victor would make a run at a convoy being escorted by the USS A.G. Robinson, going as far as to fire three volleys into the merchant ships. A.G. Robinson would take more of these hits, suffering significant damage to her power systems and warp coils. She was withdrawn from Decker’s task force the same day; USS Synak was also withdrawn on the 29th after colliding with the merchant cruiser Catania Plain.
It was abundantly clear that the situation was slipping out of control. On earth, Broadhurst’s campaign to expand the level of support for the Ruling Council was hitting a brick wall; with Starfleet on the defensive, the idea of committing materiel support to what many increasingly saw as a failed state-in-exile was met with confusion and scorn. Even the concept of civil aid – medical supplies and engineering equipment – was shot down in a vote that led to Sh’Belulos being egged by Pro-Acamar protestors in the Tuileries Gardens. Tensions were running high in Paris by the 28th and Broadhurst’s insistence on direct support was beginning to annoy both the council and his cabinet. High Commissioner Yurada – one of the few figures in the cabinet who also thought that arming the Sovereignties was a good idea – tried to convince the president to drop the issue for a better time. Broadhurst refused; “now is the only chance we have to reverse the status quo on the planet”, he told Yurade on the 28th. “Next year is too late. Next month is too late.”[55] It is likely that Broadhurst was basing his view off Starfleet Intelligence’s own conclusions.
Despite many holes in their overall operation (including a glaring lack of awareness that the Klingon mission on M’talas was tapping into the Starfleet Subspace relay in the system), SI’s signals and long-range observation intelligence on Acamar had improved dramatically across 2262; so much so that they were reading nearly 80% of Durak and Duras transmissions in the system. Their information seemed to suggest – in a half-truth typical of espionage work – that the Klingon houses had parcelled land out on the planet for military purposes. In the eyes of SI – and Broadhurst – these parcels of land were most likely spaceports and fitting yards, aimed at supporting Klingon privateers closer to their prey along the Barolia Highway and Argelius Approaches. “The possibility of Acamar turning into a Klingon rock with Orion barnacles is not something I can live with”, Broadhurst would tell the council on the 30th of June, in yet another attempt to gather military support for the Sovereignites. But they would not budge. “We are not about to break off from an entire defensive trade protection doctrine to go glory hunting on Acamar”, warned Tyn K’iunos of Cait. Broadhurst’s motion would fail a second time that evening. Other methods would have to be employed.
The Presidio, forced to commit two of its precious Constitution Class ships to Interlude, was now under pressure from both 2nd Fleet and Paris to draw further from it’s reserves to support Acamar.[56] Rittenhouse would reluctantly release DESRON 6 from 5th Fleet, bringing more craft to bear on the task even if DESRON 6 largely consisted of out-of-date light ships like the Engle and New Paris. More critically, Rittenhouse and Chrisjen Paris (provisional C-in-C Klingon Border) would agree to release USS Hector, Heracles and Ranger for active service with 2nd Fleet’s STARRON 2. While not committed directly to the Acamar task force, both vessels – each representing the next generation of Starfleet capital ships – were always going to be read as an escalation by the Empire.
It was the two Perseus class ships – Heracles and Hector - that rang the real alarm bells within the Imperial Admiralty. Ranger was a known entity to the Klingons, thanks to it’s disastrous performance in Operation Barbary Coast and other issues with the class that kept Ranger’s sister ships in spacedock for well after their estimated launch dates. Despite being less well armed on paper, the Perseus-class had already proved itself more capable. Developed as an “escort cruiser” in the 2250s as a counter to increased raiding along the Alpha Quadrant, design and production were rapidly accelerated upon the outset of war in May 2256. Unlike the Ranger, this process did not compromise the potential of the design. The resulting design – designated a “strike cruiser” despite having closer armament to a Europa class or a Klingon pocket battleship than it’s Kirov-class contemporary – would launch in August 2256 to little ceremony. Perseus would still be undergoing truncated space trials when the war ended, after which would lead a task force to the Kzinti sector to break up a major border raid; here, Perseus would prove her worth as she took on a Kzinti “super-raider” in a one-on-one duel that saw the raider withdraw with heavy damage after only 45 minutes. The success would see the initial 4-ship production run expanded to 12, a task made significantly easier by the fact Perseus had been built almost entirely using “off-the-shelf” parts from Constitution and other existing Marvick-class ships.[57]
Hector and Heracles were the first of the 2nd production group, launched from Tranquillity Base Fleet Yards in January 2261 and entering full commissioned on the 18th of December that year. They were both also fitted with new warp regulation systems that allowed them to reach maximum acceleration at higher speeds than even a constitution; Hector had even managed to hold a steady Warp 8.8 during space trials, outpacing the supposed “fast battlecruiser” Ranger. For the Klingons, the Perseus class represented a clear threat to the superiority of the D7 as a deep-strike ship, while also challenging the raw firepower of the B1 Battleship. While the B-2 Battleship and D9 projects had been commissioned as counters in late 2259, they were still nowhere near ready in the same numbers as the Perseus.
The Klingons were, however, obliged to respond; the pressure from the great houses was growing daily, and the presence of Starfleet capital ships in the region could jeopardise the Navy’s long-term plans. In fact, it is arguable that even just the idea of Perseus class ships being deployed – alongside the curtailing of USS Hood’s mission in the Hiromi sector – may have even caused a panic within the Klingon military. It is unclear whether the Klingons knew the details of Operation Introspection – or that Interlude was a separate plan completely – but records from their top-level subspace tap on M’talas Prime show that the movement of FGF forces to concentration points near Regulus (a move not approved by the Federation Council but tactically affirmed by Rittenhouse and Broadhurst) had been noticed by Imperial Intelligence.
Certainly, within Klingon logic, the obvious solution to the Federation’s Acamarian woes would be a ground invasion after the achievement of local space superiority; something the Empire could not allow. This fear of an “earther invasion” certainly felt real to the BGU and their Klingon patrons; SI ground reports from Operation One-Night Stand spoke of a “tangible feeling on the streets that Starfleet was about to tip the scales somehow”; though whether these rumours were the fault of the Aristocracy, or the real feelings of the Acamarian Revolutionaries is difficult to discern. What is clear is that the enlargement of Decker’s task force – as well as Broadhurst’s continued clash with the Federation Council over arms – had convinced many on both Acamar and Qo’noS that they needed to act now before the UFP decided that “Starship Diplomacy” wasn’t enough.
The Imperial Navy’s 2nd Fleet Group – now twice the strength it had been a First Caleb IV – would detach it’s “Central Assault Group” (CAG) and 2 General Combat Groups (GCG) on the 30th June; this formation, placed under the command of General Kesh, consisted of 18 vessels; 2 B1 Battleships, 2 D10 Heavy Cruisers, 4 D7 Battle Cruisers, 2 D5 Light Cruisers and 4 I-2 & 4 E-2 Destroyers. Despite the firepower of this formation – and the general confrontational strategy of the Imperial Navy – Kesh’s sealed orders from the Chancellor did not direct him to engage with Starfleet. Instead, the General – a mild mannered (by Klingon standards) old officer was ordered to “Maintain a force in being on the edge of the region…and support through interference, escort and decoy, the passage of Special Cargoes through to Acamar.” These cargoes would be carried aboard modified D5 cruisers, merchant ships and tenders; their crews and cargoes were not to be searched, interrogated, or even scanned by Kesh’s forces.
Said special cargoes were, of course, Long Range Interspatial Missiles, as well as technicians and engineers to prepare sites for them on and in orbit of Acamar.
[1] Quentin Hawk, The Official History of Starfleet Intelligence, 2161-2301 (San Francisco: Starfleet Press, 2311)
[2] Other surgical operations – like the Tip-and-runs under Saoirse Fitzpatrick and the strikes on Imperial Army logistics chains by DESRON 8 – were locally developed and authorised.
[3] Starfleet would not learn that the Intelligence Codes had been broken by the Klingons until 2263; they would not discover that the Acamarian Sovereignty had been compromised by Imperial Intelligence until the early 2270s;
[4] The Hayes Brigade was one of many mercenary groups formed out of demobilised veterans of the 2256-57 war who had either left the FGF, or been passed out after failing post-war psychometric exams. While many of the post-war “military companies” evolved into criminal protection rackets similar to the Broken Circle of Kajitar IV, others like the Hayes Brigade, the Ushaan Elite and the Atoned Children of Kahless became Kingmakers across the disputed area for years to come.
[5] The political interpretation of General Order One was nowhere near to the status quo one accepts in the 24th century in this period. In fact, interpreting the Prime Directive as a expression of political will was often perceived as reductive and reactionary: one missed the point of non-interference rules if one applied them as a blanket policy to all peoples. This did not mean it was never used this way; 1st Fleet and the Diplomatic Office’s early interactions with the Gorn in the Rimward arcs of the Eminiar Gap during the Parnassus Skirmishes were based around an uncharacteristically zealous application of General Order One as interstellar policy.
[6] Masego, Three Months in Summer
[7] The decision of the Acamarian government to destroy large amounts of documents from their noticeably brief time in exile has caused many sleepless nights for the author.
[8] Kellye, The Last Blood Feud
[9] The decision to house the Acamarians in Zagreb – as opposed to the tradition “exile domiciles” in Paris, Beruit or Johannesburg – was almost certainly down to concerns over their security. It was well known that Orion investigators and operators had infiltrated the exile administrations in Paris, and that Klingon agents were not far behind.
[10] Chandra Li, The Broadhurst Intermission, (New Delhi; Universal Imprint, 2281)
[11] The death of Ambassador Dak'Rah, son of Ra’ul in September 2260 represented a significant shift in the diplomatic front of the early Klingon Cold War. Dak'Rah – a General in the Imperial Army from a middling aristocratic family – had led the ground campaign on J’Gal Minor. After some time as a political refugee on Argelius, Dak'Rah offered his services to the Federation Diplomatic Corps. While en-route from Prospero to Starbase 12, Ambassador Dak'Rah was involved in altercation with Dr. Joseph M’Benga of the USS Enterprise. M’Benga – a veteran of J’Gal – confronted Dak'Rah about his war record. To cover for his crimes, Dak'Rah tried to silence M’Benga, only to be killed with his own knife.
[12] TK Robson, To Prevent Hell
[13] The used of the term “cruiser” here is somewhat a misnomer; the Victor was roughly the same tonnage as a Burke Class Frigate.
[14] Yuiqui, Though Arms We Need
[15] Buq of Rigel IV, Our People Under Kahless
[16] The “hands off” political infiltration of the Acamarians was almost certainly a deliberate choice in the aftermath of the BGU victory; many in the Imperial Navy were concerned that a heavy-handed approach would backfire and curtail Klingon soft power – as it eventually would.
[17] Grathak, I Don’t Like to Call it a Living,
[18] Masego, Three Months in Summer
[19] AR Vale, Out of the Wilderness
[20] TK Robson & E.Z. Muir, Towards a General Theory on Klingon Foreign Policy & Muir, Klingon Diplomacy from the Inside (New York; Yunidea Imprint, 2301)
[21]E.Z. Muir, The High Martial Principle: Diplomacy in the Klingon Mind (San Francisco; Suyak and Schuster, 2310)
[22] Zym, Recollections
[23] Sarek, Recollections.
[24] Hansard: FC Deb 10 Jun 2262 vol.634
[25] Vale, Out of the Wilderness
[26] The nuances of this metaphor were, notably, lost on most of the council, who (living in a society with 23rd century medicine) had no idea what “lancing a boil” meant.
[27] D.R. Cobalt, The Imperial Era: The Federation’s Adventure in the Beta Quadrant, 2180-2250 (Shanghai; The post-Federal Book Union, 2330)
[28] Franz Joesph (ed.), The Star Fleet Technical Manual, (Ballatine Books; 2270) TO:00:01:07
[29] Soval, On the Principles of Trans-Planetary Government, (Paris; United Federal Press, 2180)
[30] Ch’Rella, The End of Indecision
[31] Intan Bin Mamat, The Union Party, Volume I: Ascendance, (Shanghai; China United Press, 2330)
[32] Peraa Zh’tyvohr, “Blue Jackie”
[33] Masego, Three Months in Summer & Yuiqui, Though Arms We Need
[34] Peter Broadhurst, Things I Overheard While Trying to Be the President, (New York; Random House, 2295)
[35] A motion to adjourn the assembly had been defeated at 5:30pm by the opposition; hourly procedural motions to adjourn would continue to be defeated until 10:30pm.
[36] Forthright was also built on much more coherent intelligence than Introspection, having begun life in 2nd Fleet as a follow-up to Operation En Passant the previous autumn.
[37] 1832-B: the “No Peace Beyond the Line” memorandum
[38] Wescott to Vale, 11th June 2262, in Out of The Wilderness
[39] Paidamoyo Chiroto; Councillor for Regulus, 2260-2272. Considered one of the founding members of the Unionist movement, and one of the few Unionists (alongside Sh’Belulos) who never endorsed Originalist thinking at any point.
[40] Wescott to Vale, 11th June 2262, in Out of The Wilderness
[41] Hansard, Motion FC-EM-(C)186-3 Peacekeeping Directive: Acamar, 10th June 2262 (London: Federation Archives Service)
[42] The non-voters were Sarek, Gin’cek (Megar) and Tosiam (Delta).
[43] Formal Message to the Gathering Unity Authority, 10th June 2262 (Shanghai; Diplomatic Commission Archive)
[44] “Flash-fax” was the colloquial term for Confidential Order Print-Outs or COPOs, a system of teleprinters installed aboard Federation Starships in the 2250s and 60s as part of an experiment in information security techniques. Unpopular with crews and an ineffective security tool, most were removed by the mid 2260s.
[45] Matt Decker to Jane Decker, June 12th 2262.
[46] USS Constellation, Light cruisers, Hong Kong and AG Robinson, Destroyers Synak, Xerxes and Ch’Fnalliuk, Frigates Tensing and Burke.
[47] The frankly bizarre naming conventions of Starfleet Intelligence operations in this period is the subject of a fascinating (and surprisingly humorous) manuscript by Sakani-Ty Vann, “Hanky codes and Menopause; SI nomenclature in the 2260s” in The Starfleet Historical Review, vol.264 (Dec 2330)
[48] CO, Constellation to TF Commanders, TF Constellation, 14th June 2262
[49] Satish Basim Afif & Gortok, son of Qipo’S, “Imperial Intelligence and the early cold war; a reassessment.” – The New Journal of Interstellar History, vol 54 (2339)
[50] “Interventions” covered everything from a travel document scan or a customs inspection all the way to the scuttling of a vessel or it’s destruction by weapons fire.
[51] Kristina Rupa, In Search of a Third Way: Non-Aligned Powers in the 23rd Century (Tellar Prime; Charov Teritary Press, 2314)
[52] Duotronics – despite being regarded generally as a “Human” information revolution – forms part of a larger trend of computing speed leaps in the mid-23rd century. The Klingon equivalent system, “Kav-M’raq’Unalla” would first debut in 2239, almost 3 years before Daystrom’s breakthrough, but would lack both an appreciate audience and financial backers until the mid-2250s.
[53] The “raptor” is best described in Starfleet terms as a “heavy scout” or “picket destroyer”; too large and well-armed to be a patrol frigate or exploration scout, but still outgunned by line destroyers like the Saladin, Larson and Engle.
[54] The D4-A – as opposed to the D4-E that was made famous by the exploits of Captain Kang – was over 90 years old by this time; while many had been modernised since 2250 to D4-D or E standards, most within house retinues remained untouched.
[55] Vale, Out of The Wilderness
[56] By 2262 the original 12 Block I Constitutions had been joined by 8 Block II vessels; they remained in high demand across the active fleet.
[57] In 2261, Starfleet Operations estimated that Perseus class would go from Keel to launch in 21 months. Ranger would take 26 at minimum and cost nearly 40% more.