10: No Peace in Our Time
The Storm Clouds Gather in the Beta Quadrant
“It’s only fair the nobility gets hung from lampposts. If we don’t do it, Sturka will.” – Savan joke.
“I feel like this is going to come back to haunt us.” - Admiral Nogura, on Ardanan Admission into the Federation.
The Counter-Revolution
At roughly the same time that the rebels broke off their meeting on Mastocal, Sturka finally arrived back in the First City. After an arduous voyage from the edge of Klingon space, harassed by rebel fleets, privateers and at one point a panicking Imperial Navy force that thought he was leading a coup d’etat, he arrived to find the government still gripped in chaos. L’Rell’s political acumen had not stood up to the crisis; her self-belief in melding Klingon tradition with radical economic change had been shattered by the risings, as had her confidence in the Imperial Navy. Her chancellery saw enemies everywhere – everywhere except Sturka, apparently, who was granted a private Audience within hours of arriving on the planet.
What he found – at least according to his own histories – was a government in complete disarray. The High Council was afraid of its own shadow and completely paralysed, while the chancellor hid in her chambers with her guards, already preparing to flee to the monastery on Boreth. Supposedly, it was only Sturka’s firm leadership and courage that reminded L’Rell of the needs of the Empire, and the duty she had to save it from its enemies. It was Sturka who reminded them that their petty squabbles were nothing compared to the importance of the Empire and to lay aside their independence for the greater good. It was Sturka who led her out into the High Council chambers to deliver a speech that rallied the Great Houses against their foes and begin the counterattack against the revolutionaries.
This is, of course, propaganda. Zym, Son of T’ai, provides a very different perspective on the chaos in the first city. “We were paralysed, yes,” he admitted. “But not by fear. We would never be paralysed by fear. L’Rell would never be paralysed by fear. We were paralysed by mistrust, and betrayal.” L’Rell’s reinvigoration of the Klingon Empire had been built on the loyalty of the people and minor nobles over that of the Great Houses, and now those supporters were tearing down Imperial banners and raising fleets to seize the Empire for themselves. The betrayal of the minor houses, who had been the key players in bringing L’Rell’s will to the provinces, was felt hard. The civil service and much of the military bureaucracy, simply ceased to exist when the nobles turned against her. The government was unable to act because its loyal elements were incapable of co-ordination. Half the Imperial Navy had been shattered by mutiny or penny-packeted by combat. The 1st Fleet Group – the “Home Fleet” was holding the line outside of the Qo’noS sector but were quickly running out of space to trade for time.
What Sturka brought to the table was more than just ‘leadership’ – he brought the loyalty of 2nd and 5th Fleet Groups. Buoyed from Caleb IV, these fleets were the best in the Imperial Navy. Sturka could also promise direct contact with their headquarters, as well as a co-ordinated plan to break through the rebel fleets. It was a godsend, but one that came with certain conditions. ‘The Boss’ had made himself the Supreme Admiral of the Imperial Navy through skill and acumen; but what he asked for in return for his support was immense.
“[Sturka] never alluded to disloyalty. He was a true servant of the Empire, in his view. It was the only duty – the only obligation – the only honourable mission he had. He didn’t need to imply what it would mean if you got on the wrong side of his vision of state service. The chancellor knew this and had hoped in time to mellow that pathology into something more honourable. She never got that chance.” According to Zym, Sturka laid the blame for the crisis right at the feet of the Great Houses. Their corruption, brutality and incompetence had provoked the Savan rebellion; their bigotry had turned the Quch’Ha against them, and their refusal to share their power had alienated the nobility. Even now, as the rebel fronts overwhelmed their retinues and occupied their territory, the 24 great houses were still immobile, focused more on blaming each other (and the government) than solving the crisis at hand. His solution was to make them fight – either overtly, by forcing them onto the frontlines or by seizing their assets, privileges and powers and returning them to the state. With their funds (and obedience), the rejuvenated central government would easily turn the tide against the revolutionaries.
It was a lot to ask. As much as L’Rell mistrusted the Great Houses, she was dependent on their support. She had no noble fealties of her own. She was reliant on their loyalty to stay in power. The concept of ruling without house support – as just an individual at the head of the state – was unthinkable to most Klingon politicians. But Sturka was not most Klingons, and neither was L’Rell. She knew that the houses had never really trusted her or T’Kuvma. In fact, Zym discloses that the chancellery was still waiting to hear that the house’s had joined the revolution against her. Perhaps it was this thought – that it was either the High Council or her. Sturka could ensure her survival by using the Imperial Navy to crush any resistance on their part, while she could offer incentives to them as ‘loyal’ civil servants of the Empire. And so, the plans were set in motion, and preparations were made. A few days after Sturka arrived on Qo’noS, the houses were summoned to a High Council Meeting. No words were minced. The Great Houses had failed in their sworn duty to protect the Empire for its foes and ensure the wellbeing and livelihood of the Klingon people. There was, however, a chance for redemption: service in the honour of the Klingon state: total, unconditional service, not as feudal lords under a chancellor but as officers of the Imperial chancellery. What L’Rell was dictating to them was an end to the economic and political independence of the Great Houses and their territory. Instead, their domains would become Imperial territory – administrated and ruled by the Houses, yes, but not as fealties. Their fleets would be reduced, absorbed into the Imperial Navy. Their legal rights and privileges (as well as their incomes) would remain, as would their personal lands, but everything else would be subsumed.
It was a raw deal – an incredibly raw deal – but Sturka was a good judge of fear, especially the fear of the aristocrat who has everything, and might be about to lose it all. The Raktajino revolution represented the most serious threat to the Klingon political establishment since the end of the 22nd century. The minor houses and Savan revolts had essentially wiped out a great deal of the manpower and support that many of the Great Houses would have relied on in a civil war. Without them, the Great Houses could not stand against the chancellor. Even if they could have, would they have wanted to? The revolution was winning if reports were to be believed. And as much as the government was desperate, the Great Houses were in a worse state. Even though the revolutionaries targeting government installations and governors, it was the greedy, wasteful, corruptible nobles that they hated the most. They were the ones whose lives were on the line if the revolt succeeded, not L’Rell. She was merely the ‘poorly advised, hostage in her own palace’ Chancellor who had been corrupted by the evil High Council.What records we have of the Mastocal conference seem to imply that if the rebels had reached Qo’noS, they may have even kept L’Rell in power. As far as the Great Houses knew, the offer on the table – submission for security – was the only thing preventing the central government from handing them all over to the peasantry. They would get their power back eventually. They always did – so what was there to lose?
The High Council agreed. From what the sources suggest, they seemed to think that this was some kind of emergency measure – a means of creating a more efficient front against the rebellion by combining the resources of the great Houses. This seems to have been what L’Rell thought it was. And so, the oaths were sworn and the new positions in the Imperial Household taken. The House Fleets were rapidly reorganised into the Imperial Navy, often with such speed and efficiency that Zym wondered if this had all been pre-planned by Sturka and his cabal. It probably had been, but no one was really able to argue. The rebels had to be defeated if any part of the Imperial system was going to survive. And so, with L’Rell’s consent and approval, Sturka left Qo’noS again. There had been no bat’leth duels in the High Council chambers; no assassinations in dark corridors or alleyways; no brawls between street gangs and factions. Sturka had delivered control over the Great Houses with nothing more than fear, and the tacit knowledge from everyone that he held the fate of the Empire in his hands. And so, he did what he always said he’d do: save it from destruction. The noble fleet moving in from King’Za was swept aside by elements of the 2nd Fleet Group, supported by parts of the former House fleet of Mokai. The Empire had been saved, and all it had cost was the ‘temporary’ end of nearly 200 years of Interstellar autonomy. In time, this moment would be seen as the point where Sturka’s rise to chancellor became certain; and the moment when L’Rell’s fate was sealed. But to those who watched the two Klingons as they declared “war unto the death” upon the rebels, it did not seem so at all.
The Duty to Interfere
It took Starfleet Command until mid-June of 2260 to grasp the scope of the Raktajino Revolution. By the time the SI could brief the President of the civil war within the Empire in any way whatsoever, The Imperial Navy was already driving a wedge between the Mastocal Council and the Korvat Front. It was absurd; once again, Starfleet Intelligence had been incapable of providing accurate, timely information on events right beyond the UFP’s doorstep. More knowledge had been gleaned from the listening posts along the border and through N’Garriez’s network that had been learned through SI’s own channels. These made the overall picture of disorder, infighting and social disharmony clear as day.
And yet, there seemed to be little action for Paris to take. It could perform crisis management, especially in dealing with the significant number of displaced former Imperial subjects who had escaped the wrath of both the Government and the rebel fronts.[1] The whole mess seemed impossible to handle and offered no benefits to Starfleet in any way whatsoever. The rebels were not interested in Federation aid or assistance – in fact, once they had pushed the Imperial forces into the interior, raids on Federation space intensified. Klingon Command made strenuous attempts at containment, pushing back rebel ships and Imperial ones alike, but it was a hopeless task. Much of the region around the Hriomi cluster devolved by summer into a brutal cauldron, where rebel forces – mainly Quch’Ha mutineers from 3rd Fleet Groups – engaged in a long, brutal fighting retreat towards Ganalda, in a six-week engagement that saw multiple encounters with elements of Task Force Mendez. None ended well; Excalibur was again forced into a pitched duel with a D7, this time coming off worse for wear. She was forced to withdraw to Axanar for repairs, depriving the task force of its only modern heavy cruiser. Admiral April of 1st Fleet grudgingly assigned the Yorktown and newly launched Bonhomme Richard to Rittenhouse, but there was not much else that could be done to fight the fire.[2]
Starfleet’s hands were tied not just by its information blackout, but also by the political limitations imposed by the Federation Council. Even with the obvious threat of a Klingon civil war spilling over into the already destabilised border area, the council remained adamantly opposed to any serious intervention. Events in the region last year had already put significant pressure on General Order One in the first place; while Caleb IV had loosened the grip when it came to preventing Klingon aggression, the Kiley 279 affair had highlighted the political importance of non-intervention to many.[3] Even if Th’rhahlat had been interested in the overt intervention that Rittenhouse and others were advocating for, he simply didn’t have the votes for it. The OSFP and colonial committee, as much as they cried out for Starfleet protection against an escalating civil war, baulked at the idea of solving the problem at the root, either through aid, negotiation, or military intervention. There some, including the president himself, who maintained the quiet hope that the civil war might drag on for a while, and prevent the Klingon empire from orienting itself properly against the Federation. It was a vain hope, but one that existed, nonetheless. It was an Internal Klingon matter. Rittenhouse was furious. “We have a duty to interfere,” he told Ch’Shukar in a firer letter. “We are the only democracy in the galaxy capable of confronting the Klingon Empire and ensuring its people can enjoy the right to self-determination. What is the purpose of calling ourselves ‘peace-keepers’ if we don’t even keep the peace?” Command didn’t budge, however. Klingon Command would stay out of the civil war. Unfortunately, the civil war had no intention of staying out of Klingon Command’s way.
As Sturka’s counter-offensive drove the rebels deep into the Mempa sector and broke the line near Gamma Eridon, the rebel fronts made desperate pushes into disputed space in search of the resources needed to maintain their war effort. Their targets were initially small fry- independent freighters, isolated mining colonies and the odd Starfleet convoy with weak protection. But as the Imperial Navy tightened the noose, the rebels got more desperate. In mid-august 2260, the Korvat front made a desperate gamble for Ardana – home of the fabled Stratos, city in the clouds, but more importantly one of the most important sources of Zenite ore in the galaxy. The Ardanans, who had no space force of their own, appealed to Starfleet for aid as the group of rebel Klingons closed on their systems. The Korvat forces arrived to find USS Yorktown, Bertram Ramsay and Ra’al blocking them from their target. Despite the ferocity of the rebel attack, the Starfleet force turned them away.
The whole crisis had shaken both the UFP to the core; Ardana was the only major source of Zenite the Federation knew of, and the possibility of having trade with it cut off alone had caused a major panic. The Ardanans, wary of their own vulnerability, requested Federation Associate Membership – a request that was rapidly accepted and passed by the Federation Security Council, without the consensual vote of the General Council. It was a momentous choice; Th’rhahlat essentially endorsed the continued right of the “Big Five” to overrule to the rest of the UFP in times of crisis. Many other members had serious concerns over Ardana’s socio-economic divisions, but these had been ignored in the face of the strategic outlook.[4] The decision, made in the best interests of both Starfleet and the countless worlds dependent on Zenite to prevent crop failures and plant disease, crippled the president’s relationship with his political base.
“Such is the nature of power”, Wescott would write on the Ardana vote. “You choose between principle and pragmatism and face the costs when they come. And they always seem like too high a price to pay. Th’rhahlat knew that. He also knew that there was worse to come, especially when the Klingon Empire was concerned.” Ardana’s entry into the Federation sphere provided a vital cornerstone to Starfleet’s operations in the region especially after their government agreed to the establishment of the antimatter refuelling station on the edge of Ardanan space.[5] It was, however, a painfully obvious knee-jerk decision. The UFP’s borders were weak and fluid; it’s trade increasingly unprotected, despite Starfleet’s best efforts; and its reputation amongst the neutral powers seeping away as it proved unable to protect them from the worst excesses of the ongoing Klingon Civil War. And yet, even as Rittenhouse’s Klingon Command rolled out its new OSO roster, Starfleet Command refused to organise any further intervention.
If anything, command doubled down on the withdrawal from the Archanis region, encouraged by the overspill of violence into the sector from the Empire. Sturka’s ‘summer offensive’, as SI would describe, was brutal and unrelenting. The rebels’ only chance against the Imperial navy had been to prevent a concentration of force, and the failure of the Mastocal Conference made that impossible. By late August 2nd Fleet Group had shattered the Mastocal Council’s militia forces in a three day battle near Bera Penthe, while elements of the Home Fleet broke up the battle line of the Korvat Front a few days later. The momentum the rebels had built so rapidly in the early days was shattered irreparably as the Imperial Government returned with a vengeance, subjecting many planets to horrific orbital bombardments or the brutality of an occupation by the Imperial Army. Gone were the lazy, irritable conscripts of the garrisons, instead, rebel settlements were subject the fury of professional warriors who swore no oaths to any house but that of the Imperial Family, and the Empire itself. There were obvious exceptions. Many of the formal territories of Great Houses were spared the antimatter warheads, and those places that ran up a pink flag were even spared the indignity of ritual execution.[6] Even more surprising, Sturka’s fleets were noticeable lenient about captured Quch’Ha prisoners – even, in several cases, encouraging and accepting those of the ‘unclean’ rebels who switched sides and re-affirmed their allegiance to the Empire. There are several reasons for this. Most obvious is now well understood fact that most of 2nd Fleet’s rank and file (as well as Captains) were Quch’Ha themselves and were thus willing to bring their fellow Klingons back into the fold. Memories of the fate of the last Quch’Ha revolt in the 2160s were also recent enough to dissuade many of the honour of fighting to the last breath. What cannot be ignored is the simple fact that by the second half of 2260, the Empire was beginning to offer a lot more to the Quch’Ha than they would gain by overthrowing it with the noble houses and the Savan leadership. Part of Sturka’s deal with the Great Houses had been to give the Imperial chancellery the right to dictate the position of the Quch’Ha overall. This had been of no concern to the aristocracy, who really had no opinion of the Unclean beyond a desire to never be seen around them.
Sturka had no such bigotries. He saw the Quch’Ha as a vital tool – a disenfranchised martial class, with no family concerns, no ancient ties, their feuds and obligations wiped clean by the ‘dishonour’ of genetic malady. Their own cause was their own survival – and their own victory over their enemies, foreign or domestic. Many had thrown their lot in with the Savan and nobility to destroy the power of the great houses, but as it became clear that both these groups treated them with as much disdain, that motivation waned. Sturka – and more specifically, his reformed Imperial Navy – offered them much more. He made it clear that he wasn’t just opening Captaincies to the Quch-Ha: he was offering flag officer positions, staff positions and key leadership roles to them. More importantly (considering the last year of violence) he was offering amnesty. This final offer met without outrage of Qo’noS, especially amongst the great houses, but even from L’Rell herself. But Sturka gave it no heed. “The Boss believed victory was the only honour that mattered,” Kor, son of Rynar would write of this time, when he served amongst the loyal Quch’Ha of second fleet. “And he got his victory. We all did.”
The end came in October 2260. With the Mastocal Council collapsing rapidly, 2nd Fleet Groups main battle line made a lunge for the planet itself, smashing through a force of D-4s and Raptors before beaming thousands of warriors right into the capital itself. The next seven days saw some of the most wanton destruction ever performed by Klingon soldiers on one of their own planets. The death toll was estimated by FEDAC to be in the hundreds of thousands, if not higher, as the victorious Imperial soldiers torched the streets of the planets cities before burning the countryside as they searched for the scattered rebel force. Even though the reprisals, recriminations and manhunts dragged on into 2261, most historians have agreed on the Sack of Mastocal as the formal end of the revolution. Starfleet Intelligence would point to the Organising Decree of 14th Nay’poq, YK 885, which subsumed house bureaucracies into the Imperial Government, as the true end in its view, marking the moment where the Klingon nobility’s independence was formally curtailed.
The end of the revolution – as much as it could be called that – lasted for months and extended far beyond Mastocal itself as government forces pushed out into nearby systems and sectors to hunt the remaining leadership, inflicting their ferocity on anyone who got in the way. The minor nobility ceased to exist overnight; their key members dead, exiled or refugees within the Federation, while junior family members swore their allegiance to the Imperial Family itself to avoid execution.[7] Those who did escape were pursued with fanatical vengeance under direct orders from the Chancellor herself, who decreed that “not one individual who raised a banner against the people of Kahless shall escape death.”
And what of the Savan, the working-class people whose violent discontent had started this revolution in the first place? Outside of their leaders, most who survived the looting and savagery melted into the countryside, re-emerging to conduct the winter harvests as usual before returning to market towns to sell their wares. The Government had no problem with this, really. For L’Rell, the return of the Savan to their ‘traditional loyalties’ was a vindication of her worldview; for Sturka, it was an acceptable compromise to keep the wheels of the Klingon economy turning. Their relationship with the nobility was forever shattered, however, as were their political rights and privileges. While certain concessions had been ceded by the central government – including a wage increase tied to inflation – any advocates of political representation, economic relief or the end of the press gang were suppressed or ‘disappeared’ by the Imperial Security Bureau. The ISB, once flimsy and useless tool of Chancellor Kuvak, came into its own during the Raktajino Revolution, where its security agents were pivotal in suppressing a major rebellion on Praxis. Their numbers – small throughout most of the 2250s – exploded across the year, the ranks filled mainly by members of the Quch’Ha underclass who were well versed in how shallow Klingon ‘honour’ really was.
The “dishonour division”, as the Imperial Navy referred to them, excelled in a level of ruthlessness against their own people that shocked even their own people. Sturka – and L'Rell for that matter – were pleased with their results, too, satisfied to gain a much clearer image of their own empire than any other leaders before them – even if it relied on torture, betrayal and even the early uses of the famed Klingon mind-sifter. And so, the Klingon peasantry, having inflicted their wrath on hated overseers, aristocratic officials, and corrupt governors, returned to their fields – under the watchful eyes of the Imperial Army, and the ISB.
With the Imperial Navy projecting its strength deep into the Treaty Zone, Klingon Command found itself yet again overwhelmed. Understrength forces – now better organised into DESRON and CRURONs – confronted the Klingons as best they could, but even on enemy turf the Imperial Navy still had the advantage in experience and tactical training. USS Kirov and Russo were heavily damaged in a battle near Sauria, while a convoy escorted by the USS Travis Mayweather and USS Kenyatta was attacked by a trio of D-5s hunting for a group of Korvat leaders. The high point of the “round-up” was the battle of Tellun, when two D-7s from the 5th Fleet Group attempted to force the government of Troyius to hand over three rebel leaders at the barrel of the disruptor. Intervention by the USS Ranger and a trio of Hermes-Class scouts “encouraged” the Empire to withdraw, but the presence of Klingon capital ships so deep inside the Federation Treaty Zone was shocking. It should not have been a surprise, though. The withdrawal from Archanis and the drawdown in other parts of the border had led to those regions rapidly devolving into battlefields. The political and strategic inability to restore order to those areas was practically an invitation for the Empire to move in on the region – not just with their military forces, but with ‘advisors’, garrisons and more notoriously, spies. The revolution, despite its violent attack on the Klingon social order, had been a boon to Klingon power projection.
“The pIpyaH war underlines every operational failure since the 2257 Armistice,” Admiral Nogura would write in a note to the C-in-C. “We continue to operate on principles that simply don’t apply, and except the galaxy to wait for us to catch up with it. That simply is not going to happen.” Klingon presence deep within the treaty zone was concerning enough, but once Starfleet Intelligence confirmed that most of the fleet was Imperial – as opposed to noble – the worst fears of many in the intelligence community were confirmed. For Starfleet, the disparate nature of the house fleets had been an advantage in some ways. The nobility was professionally unconcerned with logistics and maintenance, or even with tactical training. Their vessels were often outmanoeuvred and outfought by second or even third-rate Starfleet ships, who could often avoid a battle they didn’t want to fight while the house fleet vessels wallowed around. Their ferocity could be overcome by Starfleet wit and intelligence. The Imperial Navy could not, however. It’s ships, even older types like the Raptor and D-5s, were in peak condition, as was their tactical training. Caleb IV was stark proof of this, and the conclusions of the Nogura inquiry were reinforced not just by the rapid defeat of the rebel navies, but by the aggressive, harassing attacks on Federation Patrols that steadily increased as the Raktakino revolution came to close. Even Rittenhouse – already nicknamed “Burnham Rot Ritten” by his detractors – was shaken by their overt attacks on Federation shipping.[8]
“KLICOM is unprepared for the presence of battle-line Klingon Warships within its operating area at present,” he would urgently remind the Presidio on November 23rd. “With our current lack of fast destroyers and Heavy Cruisers, we are unable to prevent the continued entry of Imperial forces and privateers into the Treaty Zone. Once again, I recommend the immediate activation of reserve warships for defensive purposes. While KLICOM may be able to function without them, the current weak security arrangements cannot be reversed without a serious change to our operational strength.”[9]
There were three essential conclusions drawn from the Raktajino Revolution. First – that contrary to popular belief, the Klingon State was strong; strong enough to crush a widespread rebellion in a matter of months and curtail the Great Houses at the same time. Secondly, the Klingon military – both the Navy and the Army – was also far more organised than expected. The ability of the navy to re-orient itself to crush internal unrest and then immediately being projecting power out into the Archanis sector and Eminiar gap was a shock to almost everyone in the Intelligence community. Thirdly, and most worryingly, the Klingon Empire was not about to follow the Federation’s rules in any way whatsoever. It had violated Federation Space and crossed its own claim lines on multiple occasions in pursuit of the rebels, and then once it had finished murdering their leaders and their families, blamed the “Earther Empire” for the whole revolution in the first place. Their lurch into the treaty zone had upset trade patterns and unbalanced local economies, while shattering the remaining diplomatic credos that Starfleet had with the neutral powers. “What is the point of us adhering to all your regulations, rules and tariffs,” asked an ambassador from Xarantine, “if you can’t even protect us from the Klingons?”
The whole crisis had made a miserable political situation on earth even worse. The landmark issues of the year – the Starfleet Allocations Bill and the Colonial Reform Bill – had been inflamed by the events on the frontier. It had been difficult enough to get the new Light Cruisers and Destroyers through the chamber, but Starfleet Operations decision in September to push for an expansion to both Heavy Cruiser production and Capital ship design caused immediate deadlock. No one in the defence community could deny that OSO, as effective as it was, necessitated a wider expansion programme, especially if Starfleet’s 1500 ship target for 2265 was to be met. The Council, however, baulked at the proposal for three new capital ship production lines. Re-activating the 12 Atlas and Perseus class Battlecruisers was one thing; but building more – on top of the proposal for the new Federation Dreadnought - was another matter entirely. Starfleet Command was adamant, however; the need for a ‘battle line’ of some sort to act as a protective screen for the exploration force had always been necessary, but the age of Tactical Command being composed of destroyers and fast cruisers was over.
The president understood this clearly. In his mindset, everything he wanted to achieve; democratic redress, constitutional reform and economic re-adjustment would come to naught if the frontiers of the UFP could not be protected. Barreuco’s had put the cart before the horse in the prelude to T’Kuvma’s War, and Th’rhahlat was unwilling (if not terrified) of making the same mistake. The rapid turnarounds in the fortunes of the Klingon Empire across 2260 had essentially confirmed that the UFP could not bank on any form of détente or de-escalation. If the Federation was to survive, it’s security would need to come first. The Allocations Bill, flagging in the council chamber thanks to pressure from the Archerite bloc and the emergent Originalist movement, would have to be rescued.[10] It's saviour turned out to be Peter Broadhurst, the High Commissioner for Diplomatic Affairs, who managed to agree a handshake deal with the opposition. In return for passage of the bill, the President’s office promised not to revisit the Colonial Reform Bill until the end of his current term in office, which essentially meant 2262. It was a brutal compromise, and the last one that either Th’rhahlat or Broadhurst wanted to make, but it was the only deal that the Archerites and their associates would take. The Broadhurst Compromise, as it eventually became known, was unbelievably unpopular. Colonial committee jeered the Diplomatic Commissioner when he spoke in the chamber next, while the Terra Nova Times – the paper of record for the pro-colonial faction – began to refer to him as “The Klingon of London Town,” a jibe at his perceived jingoism.
Broadhurst, never one to back down from a fight or admit a mistake, did nothing to calm the tense situation. His own remarks on the issue made it very clear that he had no time for the colonial committee, to OSFP or even the complaints of associate member worlds. “You all seem very determined to eat your omelettes with unbroken eggs,” he told the council on December 4th 2260., during the last session of the year. “We cannot reform the Federation if there is no Federation. There is no other way about it. The Union must survive before we can even consider constitutional reform. We cannot pretend anything to do it any other way.”
Such talk of protecting the Union was almost tempting fate. The rejection of the reform bill had done a lot more than cause arguments in the chamber. Many members of the UFP’s associate worlds regarded this rejection of democratic rebalance as a sign that the Federation was closing ranks to protect itself from the Klingons, and tossing out those who had, for a very long time, been happy to loiter on the edge of full membership. The reform bill had offered the possibility of political representation of some sort, and now it appeared to be dead. Even worse, many of the frontier member worlds – whose opinions of Federation Central had been souring for much of the 2250s – had their worst fears concerned about the “humans only club” that governed the union. The reform bill would have redressed the balance between the fringe and the core decisively and combined with the failure of Starfleet to protect them, many began wondering what exactly the United Federation of Planets had to offer. Discussions amongst political leaders from Regulus, Kretassa, Sauria and a dozen other worlds were grim portents for the political crises of the 2260s. The seeds of the Coridan Affair, the 3rd Altair War and the Reform Crisis of ’63 were all planted at the end of 2260. Their fruits would not take long to flower.
Ken Wescott was in London on the day the Reform Bill was postponed, at a joint Interstellar Affairs-FEDAC conference. It had been a long day – one full of a lot of shielded bitterness from many of the minor councillors and colonial representatives who had been let down by Paris over the bill. On that November evening, Wescott ended up in a pub on Whitehall with several other of the conference attendees, including A.D. Phoenix, Q’uarn nash Poc, and Gaena of Rigel II. All talk was of the bill, and what could be done. There were some, including the still bellicose Nafros Xaall of Tellar Prime, who blamed the colonial committee and the frontier worlds for the bills’ failure, arguing that they asked too much of the Charter. Most were frustrated by the double standards in membership that the entry of Ardana and other worlds represented.
“The Charter wasn’t working. We all agreed on that. This wasn’t a surprise. It was – is – a living document. It’s not meant to be worshipped. But people still clung onto it for support, like a toddler hangs onto a pacifier long after they should be weaned off it. We needed a new look at the charter – a new look at what the Federation meant.” Something that Wescott, nash Poc and Gaena all agreed on was that the UFP needed to stop segmenting it’s political representatives, and provide a level of equal representation that offered concession to those who needed it while ensuring the power of the ”big four” was limited. It all sounded very Archerite to Gaena, but Wescott disagreed.
“The way I saw it, Archer’s way of thinking couldn’t survive in this decade. Our democratic society – our properly democratic society – was about more than unitary principles. They had to be backed by something. Laws that meant something. Rights and protections that meant something. Security arrangements and defence commitments that meant something. If the events of the last few years had shown us anything, it was that the Federation’s principles were nothing if they couldn’t be applied to our friends and neighbours.” What those three people birthed in that cushioned corner of an English pub would eventually become known as Charterism; and their discussion would lead to several more and begin the almost meteoric rise of Wescott to the Palais de Concorde. That was all to come, however. For now, the three politicians drank, and argued, and considered the fate of their democratic society.
The Federation was not in a good place at the end of 2260. It’s almost unparalleled era of peace had come to a brutal, shuddering halt in 2256, and seemed unlikely to ever return. Its political system was beginning to show its age, the effects of over 60 years of rapid colonisation and expansion finally beginning to take hold. The Ploughshare Navy, who always crossed the horizon with Tricorders instead of Phasers – had rapidly learned the price of their optimism. The Astro-political triumph of the Treaty Zone was unravelling rapidly, as neighbours and allies weighed up the costs of dealing with a state that struggled to protect even its own assets.
And what of the Klingons? The fractured feudal anarchy of 2250 was no more. Instead, it emerged from its latest civil war stronger; more autocratic, with its aristocracy cowed and martial technocracy in control. The D7 – a rare sight only four years beforehand - was now everywhere, exacting tribute from a dozen worlds while cowing the people of a dozen other. Their sights were clearly set on the Federation; on democracy; and on Liberty. Some wondered if the fears of summer 2257 – when it looked like Klingon warriors were weeks away from marching down the Champs-Elysee – would come true in the decade to come. Plenty on Qo’noS relished that opportunity, and even as the last prisoners on Mastocal were lined up in front of the firing squads, many pondered the opportunities for glory and victory that lay beyond the Empire’s borders. Some – a select few, trained for years before painful reconstructive surgery – had already gone beyond the UFP’s border markers, preparing to bring down the Earther Empire from within. The human dogs and their alien lackeys, weakened by their wealth and their liberalism, would be ripe for the taking – so it was believed. The 2260s – or to be more Klingon, the second half of the 880s and early 890s -would be the end of the democratic parasite on the galaxy for good.
The Arsenal of Freedom was not ready to roll over and give up, however. As Wescott and his colleagues downed their pints of Andorian ale, the officials of the Diplomatic Commission and FEDAC worked to bring the wealth and progress of the Federation to the galaxy as equitably as possibly. Across the quadrant, shipyards worked tirelessly to build a new generation of destroyers, cruisers, and frigates to protect the union’s space lanes. A young Lieutenant Commander by the name of James T. Kirk worked through the same night aboard the USS Eagle to install a new Phaser control system, that would prove vital in the ships’ next battle with Orion pirates. Captain Fukuhara of the Marco Polo pushed her ship to the limit of its abilities to rescue a Suliban refugee fleet from Imperial forces. Beyond the edge of Federation Space, Christopher Pike and the USS Enterprise continued the exploratory mission of Starfleet, their vigilance well worth the reward in scientific knowledge. The Federation was frightened. It was fractured. It was even verging on isolation. But it was no cowed. It understood well what the price of fear was, and it refused to change its way of life because other people wished it so.
The centenary decade of the United Federation of Planets would not be easy; but it would be remembered by all who lived through it.
[1] Both the Imperial and rebel factions considered the subject rebels duplicitous, and clearly out to aide their opponents. Several massacres of slaves, serfs and other marginalised groups were conducted by both sides in attempts to clear the frontline of “spies and traitors”.
[2] Bonhomme Richard was the first of a new variant on the Constitution Class, based on a decade of improved design and construction technology.
[3] The Kiley affair remains partially classified, but the indisputable fact that the population developed warp technology by observing the Discovery disaster caused significant ire amongst the council, including questions as to why Starfleet Command conducted the tests so close to the Klingon border.
[4] While rumours would abound of the Ardana’s stratified society, none would be confirmed by Federation officials until the infamous Xenite Report of Captain James T. Kirk in 2268.
[5] This station – eventual christened Starbase Deep Space 6 – would be destroyed during the Four Days’ War, about 45 minutes before the intervention of the Organians
[6] Pink – the colour of Klingon blood – is the best equivalent of the Terran (and Vulcan) white flag of surrender, though the pink flag is often a prelude for the expected ritual suicide of political and military leaders. Such practices have been uncommon since the 2260s, however, even if an increasingly spiritual segment of Klingon government in the 2330s has pushed for a return to those ways.
[7] The “Imperial Family” is de jure the equivalent of swearing an oath to the Imperial Chancellory.
[8] A “ritten” is Tellarite slang for a rodent-like animal that is infamous for fighting it’s own reflection.
[9] The reserve warships Rittenhouse refers to are the six Atlas Class Battle Cruisers and the six Perseus Class Perimeter Action Escorts, which had been mothballed after the end of hostilities in 2257.
[10] Archerism was, by 2260, a dying political ideology, but remained important within many of the worlds that joined the UFP between 2170 and 2220. Originalism – still a fringe successor of the Planetarian movement and the Return Party’s isolationist parochialism – was yet to become the major opposition group it would form by the end of the 2260s.
“I feel like this is going to come back to haunt us.” - Admiral Nogura, on Ardanan Admission into the Federation.
The Counter-Revolution
At roughly the same time that the rebels broke off their meeting on Mastocal, Sturka finally arrived back in the First City. After an arduous voyage from the edge of Klingon space, harassed by rebel fleets, privateers and at one point a panicking Imperial Navy force that thought he was leading a coup d’etat, he arrived to find the government still gripped in chaos. L’Rell’s political acumen had not stood up to the crisis; her self-belief in melding Klingon tradition with radical economic change had been shattered by the risings, as had her confidence in the Imperial Navy. Her chancellery saw enemies everywhere – everywhere except Sturka, apparently, who was granted a private Audience within hours of arriving on the planet.
What he found – at least according to his own histories – was a government in complete disarray. The High Council was afraid of its own shadow and completely paralysed, while the chancellor hid in her chambers with her guards, already preparing to flee to the monastery on Boreth. Supposedly, it was only Sturka’s firm leadership and courage that reminded L’Rell of the needs of the Empire, and the duty she had to save it from its enemies. It was Sturka who reminded them that their petty squabbles were nothing compared to the importance of the Empire and to lay aside their independence for the greater good. It was Sturka who led her out into the High Council chambers to deliver a speech that rallied the Great Houses against their foes and begin the counterattack against the revolutionaries.
This is, of course, propaganda. Zym, Son of T’ai, provides a very different perspective on the chaos in the first city. “We were paralysed, yes,” he admitted. “But not by fear. We would never be paralysed by fear. L’Rell would never be paralysed by fear. We were paralysed by mistrust, and betrayal.” L’Rell’s reinvigoration of the Klingon Empire had been built on the loyalty of the people and minor nobles over that of the Great Houses, and now those supporters were tearing down Imperial banners and raising fleets to seize the Empire for themselves. The betrayal of the minor houses, who had been the key players in bringing L’Rell’s will to the provinces, was felt hard. The civil service and much of the military bureaucracy, simply ceased to exist when the nobles turned against her. The government was unable to act because its loyal elements were incapable of co-ordination. Half the Imperial Navy had been shattered by mutiny or penny-packeted by combat. The 1st Fleet Group – the “Home Fleet” was holding the line outside of the Qo’noS sector but were quickly running out of space to trade for time.
What Sturka brought to the table was more than just ‘leadership’ – he brought the loyalty of 2nd and 5th Fleet Groups. Buoyed from Caleb IV, these fleets were the best in the Imperial Navy. Sturka could also promise direct contact with their headquarters, as well as a co-ordinated plan to break through the rebel fleets. It was a godsend, but one that came with certain conditions. ‘The Boss’ had made himself the Supreme Admiral of the Imperial Navy through skill and acumen; but what he asked for in return for his support was immense.
“[Sturka] never alluded to disloyalty. He was a true servant of the Empire, in his view. It was the only duty – the only obligation – the only honourable mission he had. He didn’t need to imply what it would mean if you got on the wrong side of his vision of state service. The chancellor knew this and had hoped in time to mellow that pathology into something more honourable. She never got that chance.” According to Zym, Sturka laid the blame for the crisis right at the feet of the Great Houses. Their corruption, brutality and incompetence had provoked the Savan rebellion; their bigotry had turned the Quch’Ha against them, and their refusal to share their power had alienated the nobility. Even now, as the rebel fronts overwhelmed their retinues and occupied their territory, the 24 great houses were still immobile, focused more on blaming each other (and the government) than solving the crisis at hand. His solution was to make them fight – either overtly, by forcing them onto the frontlines or by seizing their assets, privileges and powers and returning them to the state. With their funds (and obedience), the rejuvenated central government would easily turn the tide against the revolutionaries.
It was a lot to ask. As much as L’Rell mistrusted the Great Houses, she was dependent on their support. She had no noble fealties of her own. She was reliant on their loyalty to stay in power. The concept of ruling without house support – as just an individual at the head of the state – was unthinkable to most Klingon politicians. But Sturka was not most Klingons, and neither was L’Rell. She knew that the houses had never really trusted her or T’Kuvma. In fact, Zym discloses that the chancellery was still waiting to hear that the house’s had joined the revolution against her. Perhaps it was this thought – that it was either the High Council or her. Sturka could ensure her survival by using the Imperial Navy to crush any resistance on their part, while she could offer incentives to them as ‘loyal’ civil servants of the Empire. And so, the plans were set in motion, and preparations were made. A few days after Sturka arrived on Qo’noS, the houses were summoned to a High Council Meeting. No words were minced. The Great Houses had failed in their sworn duty to protect the Empire for its foes and ensure the wellbeing and livelihood of the Klingon people. There was, however, a chance for redemption: service in the honour of the Klingon state: total, unconditional service, not as feudal lords under a chancellor but as officers of the Imperial chancellery. What L’Rell was dictating to them was an end to the economic and political independence of the Great Houses and their territory. Instead, their domains would become Imperial territory – administrated and ruled by the Houses, yes, but not as fealties. Their fleets would be reduced, absorbed into the Imperial Navy. Their legal rights and privileges (as well as their incomes) would remain, as would their personal lands, but everything else would be subsumed.
It was a raw deal – an incredibly raw deal – but Sturka was a good judge of fear, especially the fear of the aristocrat who has everything, and might be about to lose it all. The Raktajino revolution represented the most serious threat to the Klingon political establishment since the end of the 22nd century. The minor houses and Savan revolts had essentially wiped out a great deal of the manpower and support that many of the Great Houses would have relied on in a civil war. Without them, the Great Houses could not stand against the chancellor. Even if they could have, would they have wanted to? The revolution was winning if reports were to be believed. And as much as the government was desperate, the Great Houses were in a worse state. Even though the revolutionaries targeting government installations and governors, it was the greedy, wasteful, corruptible nobles that they hated the most. They were the ones whose lives were on the line if the revolt succeeded, not L’Rell. She was merely the ‘poorly advised, hostage in her own palace’ Chancellor who had been corrupted by the evil High Council.What records we have of the Mastocal conference seem to imply that if the rebels had reached Qo’noS, they may have even kept L’Rell in power. As far as the Great Houses knew, the offer on the table – submission for security – was the only thing preventing the central government from handing them all over to the peasantry. They would get their power back eventually. They always did – so what was there to lose?
The High Council agreed. From what the sources suggest, they seemed to think that this was some kind of emergency measure – a means of creating a more efficient front against the rebellion by combining the resources of the great Houses. This seems to have been what L’Rell thought it was. And so, the oaths were sworn and the new positions in the Imperial Household taken. The House Fleets were rapidly reorganised into the Imperial Navy, often with such speed and efficiency that Zym wondered if this had all been pre-planned by Sturka and his cabal. It probably had been, but no one was really able to argue. The rebels had to be defeated if any part of the Imperial system was going to survive. And so, with L’Rell’s consent and approval, Sturka left Qo’noS again. There had been no bat’leth duels in the High Council chambers; no assassinations in dark corridors or alleyways; no brawls between street gangs and factions. Sturka had delivered control over the Great Houses with nothing more than fear, and the tacit knowledge from everyone that he held the fate of the Empire in his hands. And so, he did what he always said he’d do: save it from destruction. The noble fleet moving in from King’Za was swept aside by elements of the 2nd Fleet Group, supported by parts of the former House fleet of Mokai. The Empire had been saved, and all it had cost was the ‘temporary’ end of nearly 200 years of Interstellar autonomy. In time, this moment would be seen as the point where Sturka’s rise to chancellor became certain; and the moment when L’Rell’s fate was sealed. But to those who watched the two Klingons as they declared “war unto the death” upon the rebels, it did not seem so at all.
The Duty to Interfere
It took Starfleet Command until mid-June of 2260 to grasp the scope of the Raktajino Revolution. By the time the SI could brief the President of the civil war within the Empire in any way whatsoever, The Imperial Navy was already driving a wedge between the Mastocal Council and the Korvat Front. It was absurd; once again, Starfleet Intelligence had been incapable of providing accurate, timely information on events right beyond the UFP’s doorstep. More knowledge had been gleaned from the listening posts along the border and through N’Garriez’s network that had been learned through SI’s own channels. These made the overall picture of disorder, infighting and social disharmony clear as day.
And yet, there seemed to be little action for Paris to take. It could perform crisis management, especially in dealing with the significant number of displaced former Imperial subjects who had escaped the wrath of both the Government and the rebel fronts.[1] The whole mess seemed impossible to handle and offered no benefits to Starfleet in any way whatsoever. The rebels were not interested in Federation aid or assistance – in fact, once they had pushed the Imperial forces into the interior, raids on Federation space intensified. Klingon Command made strenuous attempts at containment, pushing back rebel ships and Imperial ones alike, but it was a hopeless task. Much of the region around the Hriomi cluster devolved by summer into a brutal cauldron, where rebel forces – mainly Quch’Ha mutineers from 3rd Fleet Groups – engaged in a long, brutal fighting retreat towards Ganalda, in a six-week engagement that saw multiple encounters with elements of Task Force Mendez. None ended well; Excalibur was again forced into a pitched duel with a D7, this time coming off worse for wear. She was forced to withdraw to Axanar for repairs, depriving the task force of its only modern heavy cruiser. Admiral April of 1st Fleet grudgingly assigned the Yorktown and newly launched Bonhomme Richard to Rittenhouse, but there was not much else that could be done to fight the fire.[2]
Starfleet’s hands were tied not just by its information blackout, but also by the political limitations imposed by the Federation Council. Even with the obvious threat of a Klingon civil war spilling over into the already destabilised border area, the council remained adamantly opposed to any serious intervention. Events in the region last year had already put significant pressure on General Order One in the first place; while Caleb IV had loosened the grip when it came to preventing Klingon aggression, the Kiley 279 affair had highlighted the political importance of non-intervention to many.[3] Even if Th’rhahlat had been interested in the overt intervention that Rittenhouse and others were advocating for, he simply didn’t have the votes for it. The OSFP and colonial committee, as much as they cried out for Starfleet protection against an escalating civil war, baulked at the idea of solving the problem at the root, either through aid, negotiation, or military intervention. There some, including the president himself, who maintained the quiet hope that the civil war might drag on for a while, and prevent the Klingon empire from orienting itself properly against the Federation. It was a vain hope, but one that existed, nonetheless. It was an Internal Klingon matter. Rittenhouse was furious. “We have a duty to interfere,” he told Ch’Shukar in a firer letter. “We are the only democracy in the galaxy capable of confronting the Klingon Empire and ensuring its people can enjoy the right to self-determination. What is the purpose of calling ourselves ‘peace-keepers’ if we don’t even keep the peace?” Command didn’t budge, however. Klingon Command would stay out of the civil war. Unfortunately, the civil war had no intention of staying out of Klingon Command’s way.
As Sturka’s counter-offensive drove the rebels deep into the Mempa sector and broke the line near Gamma Eridon, the rebel fronts made desperate pushes into disputed space in search of the resources needed to maintain their war effort. Their targets were initially small fry- independent freighters, isolated mining colonies and the odd Starfleet convoy with weak protection. But as the Imperial Navy tightened the noose, the rebels got more desperate. In mid-august 2260, the Korvat front made a desperate gamble for Ardana – home of the fabled Stratos, city in the clouds, but more importantly one of the most important sources of Zenite ore in the galaxy. The Ardanans, who had no space force of their own, appealed to Starfleet for aid as the group of rebel Klingons closed on their systems. The Korvat forces arrived to find USS Yorktown, Bertram Ramsay and Ra’al blocking them from their target. Despite the ferocity of the rebel attack, the Starfleet force turned them away.
The whole crisis had shaken both the UFP to the core; Ardana was the only major source of Zenite the Federation knew of, and the possibility of having trade with it cut off alone had caused a major panic. The Ardanans, wary of their own vulnerability, requested Federation Associate Membership – a request that was rapidly accepted and passed by the Federation Security Council, without the consensual vote of the General Council. It was a momentous choice; Th’rhahlat essentially endorsed the continued right of the “Big Five” to overrule to the rest of the UFP in times of crisis. Many other members had serious concerns over Ardana’s socio-economic divisions, but these had been ignored in the face of the strategic outlook.[4] The decision, made in the best interests of both Starfleet and the countless worlds dependent on Zenite to prevent crop failures and plant disease, crippled the president’s relationship with his political base.
“Such is the nature of power”, Wescott would write on the Ardana vote. “You choose between principle and pragmatism and face the costs when they come. And they always seem like too high a price to pay. Th’rhahlat knew that. He also knew that there was worse to come, especially when the Klingon Empire was concerned.” Ardana’s entry into the Federation sphere provided a vital cornerstone to Starfleet’s operations in the region especially after their government agreed to the establishment of the antimatter refuelling station on the edge of Ardanan space.[5] It was, however, a painfully obvious knee-jerk decision. The UFP’s borders were weak and fluid; it’s trade increasingly unprotected, despite Starfleet’s best efforts; and its reputation amongst the neutral powers seeping away as it proved unable to protect them from the worst excesses of the ongoing Klingon Civil War. And yet, even as Rittenhouse’s Klingon Command rolled out its new OSO roster, Starfleet Command refused to organise any further intervention.
If anything, command doubled down on the withdrawal from the Archanis region, encouraged by the overspill of violence into the sector from the Empire. Sturka’s ‘summer offensive’, as SI would describe, was brutal and unrelenting. The rebels’ only chance against the Imperial navy had been to prevent a concentration of force, and the failure of the Mastocal Conference made that impossible. By late August 2nd Fleet Group had shattered the Mastocal Council’s militia forces in a three day battle near Bera Penthe, while elements of the Home Fleet broke up the battle line of the Korvat Front a few days later. The momentum the rebels had built so rapidly in the early days was shattered irreparably as the Imperial Government returned with a vengeance, subjecting many planets to horrific orbital bombardments or the brutality of an occupation by the Imperial Army. Gone were the lazy, irritable conscripts of the garrisons, instead, rebel settlements were subject the fury of professional warriors who swore no oaths to any house but that of the Imperial Family, and the Empire itself. There were obvious exceptions. Many of the formal territories of Great Houses were spared the antimatter warheads, and those places that ran up a pink flag were even spared the indignity of ritual execution.[6] Even more surprising, Sturka’s fleets were noticeable lenient about captured Quch’Ha prisoners – even, in several cases, encouraging and accepting those of the ‘unclean’ rebels who switched sides and re-affirmed their allegiance to the Empire. There are several reasons for this. Most obvious is now well understood fact that most of 2nd Fleet’s rank and file (as well as Captains) were Quch’Ha themselves and were thus willing to bring their fellow Klingons back into the fold. Memories of the fate of the last Quch’Ha revolt in the 2160s were also recent enough to dissuade many of the honour of fighting to the last breath. What cannot be ignored is the simple fact that by the second half of 2260, the Empire was beginning to offer a lot more to the Quch’Ha than they would gain by overthrowing it with the noble houses and the Savan leadership. Part of Sturka’s deal with the Great Houses had been to give the Imperial chancellery the right to dictate the position of the Quch’Ha overall. This had been of no concern to the aristocracy, who really had no opinion of the Unclean beyond a desire to never be seen around them.
Sturka had no such bigotries. He saw the Quch’Ha as a vital tool – a disenfranchised martial class, with no family concerns, no ancient ties, their feuds and obligations wiped clean by the ‘dishonour’ of genetic malady. Their own cause was their own survival – and their own victory over their enemies, foreign or domestic. Many had thrown their lot in with the Savan and nobility to destroy the power of the great houses, but as it became clear that both these groups treated them with as much disdain, that motivation waned. Sturka – and more specifically, his reformed Imperial Navy – offered them much more. He made it clear that he wasn’t just opening Captaincies to the Quch-Ha: he was offering flag officer positions, staff positions and key leadership roles to them. More importantly (considering the last year of violence) he was offering amnesty. This final offer met without outrage of Qo’noS, especially amongst the great houses, but even from L’Rell herself. But Sturka gave it no heed. “The Boss believed victory was the only honour that mattered,” Kor, son of Rynar would write of this time, when he served amongst the loyal Quch’Ha of second fleet. “And he got his victory. We all did.”
The end came in October 2260. With the Mastocal Council collapsing rapidly, 2nd Fleet Groups main battle line made a lunge for the planet itself, smashing through a force of D-4s and Raptors before beaming thousands of warriors right into the capital itself. The next seven days saw some of the most wanton destruction ever performed by Klingon soldiers on one of their own planets. The death toll was estimated by FEDAC to be in the hundreds of thousands, if not higher, as the victorious Imperial soldiers torched the streets of the planets cities before burning the countryside as they searched for the scattered rebel force. Even though the reprisals, recriminations and manhunts dragged on into 2261, most historians have agreed on the Sack of Mastocal as the formal end of the revolution. Starfleet Intelligence would point to the Organising Decree of 14th Nay’poq, YK 885, which subsumed house bureaucracies into the Imperial Government, as the true end in its view, marking the moment where the Klingon nobility’s independence was formally curtailed.
The end of the revolution – as much as it could be called that – lasted for months and extended far beyond Mastocal itself as government forces pushed out into nearby systems and sectors to hunt the remaining leadership, inflicting their ferocity on anyone who got in the way. The minor nobility ceased to exist overnight; their key members dead, exiled or refugees within the Federation, while junior family members swore their allegiance to the Imperial Family itself to avoid execution.[7] Those who did escape were pursued with fanatical vengeance under direct orders from the Chancellor herself, who decreed that “not one individual who raised a banner against the people of Kahless shall escape death.”
And what of the Savan, the working-class people whose violent discontent had started this revolution in the first place? Outside of their leaders, most who survived the looting and savagery melted into the countryside, re-emerging to conduct the winter harvests as usual before returning to market towns to sell their wares. The Government had no problem with this, really. For L’Rell, the return of the Savan to their ‘traditional loyalties’ was a vindication of her worldview; for Sturka, it was an acceptable compromise to keep the wheels of the Klingon economy turning. Their relationship with the nobility was forever shattered, however, as were their political rights and privileges. While certain concessions had been ceded by the central government – including a wage increase tied to inflation – any advocates of political representation, economic relief or the end of the press gang were suppressed or ‘disappeared’ by the Imperial Security Bureau. The ISB, once flimsy and useless tool of Chancellor Kuvak, came into its own during the Raktajino Revolution, where its security agents were pivotal in suppressing a major rebellion on Praxis. Their numbers – small throughout most of the 2250s – exploded across the year, the ranks filled mainly by members of the Quch’Ha underclass who were well versed in how shallow Klingon ‘honour’ really was.
The “dishonour division”, as the Imperial Navy referred to them, excelled in a level of ruthlessness against their own people that shocked even their own people. Sturka – and L'Rell for that matter – were pleased with their results, too, satisfied to gain a much clearer image of their own empire than any other leaders before them – even if it relied on torture, betrayal and even the early uses of the famed Klingon mind-sifter. And so, the Klingon peasantry, having inflicted their wrath on hated overseers, aristocratic officials, and corrupt governors, returned to their fields – under the watchful eyes of the Imperial Army, and the ISB.
With the Imperial Navy projecting its strength deep into the Treaty Zone, Klingon Command found itself yet again overwhelmed. Understrength forces – now better organised into DESRON and CRURONs – confronted the Klingons as best they could, but even on enemy turf the Imperial Navy still had the advantage in experience and tactical training. USS Kirov and Russo were heavily damaged in a battle near Sauria, while a convoy escorted by the USS Travis Mayweather and USS Kenyatta was attacked by a trio of D-5s hunting for a group of Korvat leaders. The high point of the “round-up” was the battle of Tellun, when two D-7s from the 5th Fleet Group attempted to force the government of Troyius to hand over three rebel leaders at the barrel of the disruptor. Intervention by the USS Ranger and a trio of Hermes-Class scouts “encouraged” the Empire to withdraw, but the presence of Klingon capital ships so deep inside the Federation Treaty Zone was shocking. It should not have been a surprise, though. The withdrawal from Archanis and the drawdown in other parts of the border had led to those regions rapidly devolving into battlefields. The political and strategic inability to restore order to those areas was practically an invitation for the Empire to move in on the region – not just with their military forces, but with ‘advisors’, garrisons and more notoriously, spies. The revolution, despite its violent attack on the Klingon social order, had been a boon to Klingon power projection.
“The pIpyaH war underlines every operational failure since the 2257 Armistice,” Admiral Nogura would write in a note to the C-in-C. “We continue to operate on principles that simply don’t apply, and except the galaxy to wait for us to catch up with it. That simply is not going to happen.” Klingon presence deep within the treaty zone was concerning enough, but once Starfleet Intelligence confirmed that most of the fleet was Imperial – as opposed to noble – the worst fears of many in the intelligence community were confirmed. For Starfleet, the disparate nature of the house fleets had been an advantage in some ways. The nobility was professionally unconcerned with logistics and maintenance, or even with tactical training. Their vessels were often outmanoeuvred and outfought by second or even third-rate Starfleet ships, who could often avoid a battle they didn’t want to fight while the house fleet vessels wallowed around. Their ferocity could be overcome by Starfleet wit and intelligence. The Imperial Navy could not, however. It’s ships, even older types like the Raptor and D-5s, were in peak condition, as was their tactical training. Caleb IV was stark proof of this, and the conclusions of the Nogura inquiry were reinforced not just by the rapid defeat of the rebel navies, but by the aggressive, harassing attacks on Federation Patrols that steadily increased as the Raktakino revolution came to close. Even Rittenhouse – already nicknamed “Burnham Rot Ritten” by his detractors – was shaken by their overt attacks on Federation shipping.[8]
“KLICOM is unprepared for the presence of battle-line Klingon Warships within its operating area at present,” he would urgently remind the Presidio on November 23rd. “With our current lack of fast destroyers and Heavy Cruisers, we are unable to prevent the continued entry of Imperial forces and privateers into the Treaty Zone. Once again, I recommend the immediate activation of reserve warships for defensive purposes. While KLICOM may be able to function without them, the current weak security arrangements cannot be reversed without a serious change to our operational strength.”[9]
There were three essential conclusions drawn from the Raktajino Revolution. First – that contrary to popular belief, the Klingon State was strong; strong enough to crush a widespread rebellion in a matter of months and curtail the Great Houses at the same time. Secondly, the Klingon military – both the Navy and the Army – was also far more organised than expected. The ability of the navy to re-orient itself to crush internal unrest and then immediately being projecting power out into the Archanis sector and Eminiar gap was a shock to almost everyone in the Intelligence community. Thirdly, and most worryingly, the Klingon Empire was not about to follow the Federation’s rules in any way whatsoever. It had violated Federation Space and crossed its own claim lines on multiple occasions in pursuit of the rebels, and then once it had finished murdering their leaders and their families, blamed the “Earther Empire” for the whole revolution in the first place. Their lurch into the treaty zone had upset trade patterns and unbalanced local economies, while shattering the remaining diplomatic credos that Starfleet had with the neutral powers. “What is the point of us adhering to all your regulations, rules and tariffs,” asked an ambassador from Xarantine, “if you can’t even protect us from the Klingons?”
The whole crisis had made a miserable political situation on earth even worse. The landmark issues of the year – the Starfleet Allocations Bill and the Colonial Reform Bill – had been inflamed by the events on the frontier. It had been difficult enough to get the new Light Cruisers and Destroyers through the chamber, but Starfleet Operations decision in September to push for an expansion to both Heavy Cruiser production and Capital ship design caused immediate deadlock. No one in the defence community could deny that OSO, as effective as it was, necessitated a wider expansion programme, especially if Starfleet’s 1500 ship target for 2265 was to be met. The Council, however, baulked at the proposal for three new capital ship production lines. Re-activating the 12 Atlas and Perseus class Battlecruisers was one thing; but building more – on top of the proposal for the new Federation Dreadnought - was another matter entirely. Starfleet Command was adamant, however; the need for a ‘battle line’ of some sort to act as a protective screen for the exploration force had always been necessary, but the age of Tactical Command being composed of destroyers and fast cruisers was over.
The president understood this clearly. In his mindset, everything he wanted to achieve; democratic redress, constitutional reform and economic re-adjustment would come to naught if the frontiers of the UFP could not be protected. Barreuco’s had put the cart before the horse in the prelude to T’Kuvma’s War, and Th’rhahlat was unwilling (if not terrified) of making the same mistake. The rapid turnarounds in the fortunes of the Klingon Empire across 2260 had essentially confirmed that the UFP could not bank on any form of détente or de-escalation. If the Federation was to survive, it’s security would need to come first. The Allocations Bill, flagging in the council chamber thanks to pressure from the Archerite bloc and the emergent Originalist movement, would have to be rescued.[10] It's saviour turned out to be Peter Broadhurst, the High Commissioner for Diplomatic Affairs, who managed to agree a handshake deal with the opposition. In return for passage of the bill, the President’s office promised not to revisit the Colonial Reform Bill until the end of his current term in office, which essentially meant 2262. It was a brutal compromise, and the last one that either Th’rhahlat or Broadhurst wanted to make, but it was the only deal that the Archerites and their associates would take. The Broadhurst Compromise, as it eventually became known, was unbelievably unpopular. Colonial committee jeered the Diplomatic Commissioner when he spoke in the chamber next, while the Terra Nova Times – the paper of record for the pro-colonial faction – began to refer to him as “The Klingon of London Town,” a jibe at his perceived jingoism.
Broadhurst, never one to back down from a fight or admit a mistake, did nothing to calm the tense situation. His own remarks on the issue made it very clear that he had no time for the colonial committee, to OSFP or even the complaints of associate member worlds. “You all seem very determined to eat your omelettes with unbroken eggs,” he told the council on December 4th 2260., during the last session of the year. “We cannot reform the Federation if there is no Federation. There is no other way about it. The Union must survive before we can even consider constitutional reform. We cannot pretend anything to do it any other way.”
Such talk of protecting the Union was almost tempting fate. The rejection of the reform bill had done a lot more than cause arguments in the chamber. Many members of the UFP’s associate worlds regarded this rejection of democratic rebalance as a sign that the Federation was closing ranks to protect itself from the Klingons, and tossing out those who had, for a very long time, been happy to loiter on the edge of full membership. The reform bill had offered the possibility of political representation of some sort, and now it appeared to be dead. Even worse, many of the frontier member worlds – whose opinions of Federation Central had been souring for much of the 2250s – had their worst fears concerned about the “humans only club” that governed the union. The reform bill would have redressed the balance between the fringe and the core decisively and combined with the failure of Starfleet to protect them, many began wondering what exactly the United Federation of Planets had to offer. Discussions amongst political leaders from Regulus, Kretassa, Sauria and a dozen other worlds were grim portents for the political crises of the 2260s. The seeds of the Coridan Affair, the 3rd Altair War and the Reform Crisis of ’63 were all planted at the end of 2260. Their fruits would not take long to flower.
Ken Wescott was in London on the day the Reform Bill was postponed, at a joint Interstellar Affairs-FEDAC conference. It had been a long day – one full of a lot of shielded bitterness from many of the minor councillors and colonial representatives who had been let down by Paris over the bill. On that November evening, Wescott ended up in a pub on Whitehall with several other of the conference attendees, including A.D. Phoenix, Q’uarn nash Poc, and Gaena of Rigel II. All talk was of the bill, and what could be done. There were some, including the still bellicose Nafros Xaall of Tellar Prime, who blamed the colonial committee and the frontier worlds for the bills’ failure, arguing that they asked too much of the Charter. Most were frustrated by the double standards in membership that the entry of Ardana and other worlds represented.
“The Charter wasn’t working. We all agreed on that. This wasn’t a surprise. It was – is – a living document. It’s not meant to be worshipped. But people still clung onto it for support, like a toddler hangs onto a pacifier long after they should be weaned off it. We needed a new look at the charter – a new look at what the Federation meant.” Something that Wescott, nash Poc and Gaena all agreed on was that the UFP needed to stop segmenting it’s political representatives, and provide a level of equal representation that offered concession to those who needed it while ensuring the power of the ”big four” was limited. It all sounded very Archerite to Gaena, but Wescott disagreed.
“The way I saw it, Archer’s way of thinking couldn’t survive in this decade. Our democratic society – our properly democratic society – was about more than unitary principles. They had to be backed by something. Laws that meant something. Rights and protections that meant something. Security arrangements and defence commitments that meant something. If the events of the last few years had shown us anything, it was that the Federation’s principles were nothing if they couldn’t be applied to our friends and neighbours.” What those three people birthed in that cushioned corner of an English pub would eventually become known as Charterism; and their discussion would lead to several more and begin the almost meteoric rise of Wescott to the Palais de Concorde. That was all to come, however. For now, the three politicians drank, and argued, and considered the fate of their democratic society.
The Federation was not in a good place at the end of 2260. It’s almost unparalleled era of peace had come to a brutal, shuddering halt in 2256, and seemed unlikely to ever return. Its political system was beginning to show its age, the effects of over 60 years of rapid colonisation and expansion finally beginning to take hold. The Ploughshare Navy, who always crossed the horizon with Tricorders instead of Phasers – had rapidly learned the price of their optimism. The Astro-political triumph of the Treaty Zone was unravelling rapidly, as neighbours and allies weighed up the costs of dealing with a state that struggled to protect even its own assets.
And what of the Klingons? The fractured feudal anarchy of 2250 was no more. Instead, it emerged from its latest civil war stronger; more autocratic, with its aristocracy cowed and martial technocracy in control. The D7 – a rare sight only four years beforehand - was now everywhere, exacting tribute from a dozen worlds while cowing the people of a dozen other. Their sights were clearly set on the Federation; on democracy; and on Liberty. Some wondered if the fears of summer 2257 – when it looked like Klingon warriors were weeks away from marching down the Champs-Elysee – would come true in the decade to come. Plenty on Qo’noS relished that opportunity, and even as the last prisoners on Mastocal were lined up in front of the firing squads, many pondered the opportunities for glory and victory that lay beyond the Empire’s borders. Some – a select few, trained for years before painful reconstructive surgery – had already gone beyond the UFP’s border markers, preparing to bring down the Earther Empire from within. The human dogs and their alien lackeys, weakened by their wealth and their liberalism, would be ripe for the taking – so it was believed. The 2260s – or to be more Klingon, the second half of the 880s and early 890s -would be the end of the democratic parasite on the galaxy for good.
The Arsenal of Freedom was not ready to roll over and give up, however. As Wescott and his colleagues downed their pints of Andorian ale, the officials of the Diplomatic Commission and FEDAC worked to bring the wealth and progress of the Federation to the galaxy as equitably as possibly. Across the quadrant, shipyards worked tirelessly to build a new generation of destroyers, cruisers, and frigates to protect the union’s space lanes. A young Lieutenant Commander by the name of James T. Kirk worked through the same night aboard the USS Eagle to install a new Phaser control system, that would prove vital in the ships’ next battle with Orion pirates. Captain Fukuhara of the Marco Polo pushed her ship to the limit of its abilities to rescue a Suliban refugee fleet from Imperial forces. Beyond the edge of Federation Space, Christopher Pike and the USS Enterprise continued the exploratory mission of Starfleet, their vigilance well worth the reward in scientific knowledge. The Federation was frightened. It was fractured. It was even verging on isolation. But it was no cowed. It understood well what the price of fear was, and it refused to change its way of life because other people wished it so.
The centenary decade of the United Federation of Planets would not be easy; but it would be remembered by all who lived through it.
[1] Both the Imperial and rebel factions considered the subject rebels duplicitous, and clearly out to aide their opponents. Several massacres of slaves, serfs and other marginalised groups were conducted by both sides in attempts to clear the frontline of “spies and traitors”.
[2] Bonhomme Richard was the first of a new variant on the Constitution Class, based on a decade of improved design and construction technology.
[3] The Kiley affair remains partially classified, but the indisputable fact that the population developed warp technology by observing the Discovery disaster caused significant ire amongst the council, including questions as to why Starfleet Command conducted the tests so close to the Klingon border.
[4] While rumours would abound of the Ardana’s stratified society, none would be confirmed by Federation officials until the infamous Xenite Report of Captain James T. Kirk in 2268.
[5] This station – eventual christened Starbase Deep Space 6 – would be destroyed during the Four Days’ War, about 45 minutes before the intervention of the Organians
[6] Pink – the colour of Klingon blood – is the best equivalent of the Terran (and Vulcan) white flag of surrender, though the pink flag is often a prelude for the expected ritual suicide of political and military leaders. Such practices have been uncommon since the 2260s, however, even if an increasingly spiritual segment of Klingon government in the 2330s has pushed for a return to those ways.
[7] The “Imperial Family” is de jure the equivalent of swearing an oath to the Imperial Chancellory.
[8] A “ritten” is Tellarite slang for a rodent-like animal that is infamous for fighting it’s own reflection.
[9] The reserve warships Rittenhouse refers to are the six Atlas Class Battle Cruisers and the six Perseus Class Perimeter Action Escorts, which had been mothballed after the end of hostilities in 2257.
[10] Archerism was, by 2260, a dying political ideology, but remained important within many of the worlds that joined the UFP between 2170 and 2220. Originalism – still a fringe successor of the Planetarian movement and the Return Party’s isolationist parochialism – was yet to become the major opposition group it would form by the end of the 2260s.