The Arsenal of Freedom
Prologue: Federation Day
Federation Day starts early in Paris.
Arguably, it starts the evening before, when the ceremonial honour guard begins their march down the Champs-Elysee to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, where four personnel - One Starfleet Officer, One Federation Marine, One Planetary Guardsman and One Civilian stand watch over the Eternal Flame overnight. The flame at the Triomphe is one of the few on earth which is truly eternal - Paris, and much of France, escaped the destruction of the Eugenics and Third World Wars, and the flame that burned in august 2261 is still the one that was lit just under 250 years beforehand.
On the night of August 11th, 2161, the four who stood guard were carefully chosen. Starfleet was represented by Lieutenant Commander Ervv Bav Groth, who had been decorated twice, once for action in Burnham’s war and again for saving the lives of 1800 Orion colonists. The Marine Corps was represented by Sergeant Major Chyss Zh’Wess of the 95th Marine Regiment (the Green Jackets), who had been in action a mere six months earlier helping defend a colony in the Archanis sector from Orion raiders. For the UESPA was Lieutenant Patrick Connolly, a veteran of the Ardana Crisis. Finally, Sural, Vulcan Ambassador to the Council, represented the Civilian arm of the Federation. These four represented the four species that had come together a century beforehand to unite behind a common banner: Liberty, Diplomacy and Friendship. Similar groups of Starfleet personnel stand guard over the Starfleet War Memorial in San Francisco, the new Klingon War Memorial in Les Invalides, the Donatu memorial in New Berlin and at a dozen other memorials across the Federation, watching over their own eternal flames, honour carvings and other places of memory.
For President Th’Rhahlat, the day begins at 7:30 am, when he leaves his residence for the Palais de Concorde. Officially, his ceremonial duties do not start till 8:30 am, but the President works for an hour, checking what reports there are. It is as quiet in the Alpha Quadrant as it is in the halls of the Palais. The day would not be spoiled by some crisis after all, and as the sun rose ever higher over the Capital of the Federation, the low cloud that had hung over the city, threatening to drop a torrential rain all week broke to reveal clear skies and a bright, blistering sun that left sweat on the brow even this early in the day, as a light breeze swept through the streets.
At 8:30 the president left the Palais to begin his first official ceremony of the day: the wreath-laying at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Accompanied by Admiral Ch’Shukar (Commander, Starfleet), the president walks down the Champs Elysée to the Arc de Triomphe, the guard of Federation Marines (Number 1. Regiment: The Blue and Buffs) marching either side of the pair. Across the planet, Prime Minister of Earth Xian Jing and the C-in-C of Starfleet, Admiral Luteth, begin their walk across the Golden Gate Bridge from Starfleet Headquarters to the Starfleet War Memorial, a similar honour guard accompanying them.
The joint ceremony had first been held in 2181, under President Archer and Admiral Shran on the 20th anniversary of the end of the Romulan War. It is a solemn moment of reflection for the leaders of the Federation to contemplate the sacrifice of the past, and the dream of the Union that countless died for. The wreaths are laid, and the President, Admiral and other guests bow their heads for the 3 minutes of silence. The only noise under the Arch is the sound of the flames flickering, and the breeze passing between the trees that line the avenue outside. Paris, soon to be filled with crowds cheering and laughing, is silent as it remembers. The bugler plays the Final Recall; the Marines change posts with the night-time honour guard, and the President and Admiral return to the Palais, accompanied by the four who stood watch over the unknown soldier.
Normally (as is eternal tradition) Paris empties out in August; most Parisians have seen the Federation Day parade at some point in their lives, and it is much more preferable to watch it from the comfort of the Riviera or Bordeaux than it is to line the streets with tourists from three dozen worlds. But on this day-the one-hundredth anniversary of the United Federation of Planets - not a single Parisian has fled for Toulouse or Nice. Instead, their doors are thrown open to the masses: family friends; old comrades and acquaintances; those who are known and those who are strangers to the great city, for today the people of Paris are the magnanimous and grateful hosts to the entire Federation. There is still an hour to go before the Parade begins at 10:30 but even as the President returns to the Palais de Concorde crowds are filling the cafes and lining the streets. By the time he steps onto the platform, over half a million people will be watching him in person, with billions watching on vid-screen across Earth, the Sol system and those planets who are within live subspace range of Earth.
The Parade begins as it has since 2162. The President, accompanied by the Prime Minister of Earth, is invited by the C-in-C of Starfleet to inspect the parade, The C-in-C will then signal for the assembled bands to play the Federation Anthem. The tune is strong, amplified by a myriad of marvels so it is heard as clearly in the Tuilerie gardens and Champs de Mars as it is in Hyde Park and al-Rashid Square. It is a wordless anthem, for what language could really unite the Federation as well as music, and even now 80 years after it was first played it still carries its tune strongly through the streets of Paris. The crowd applauds enthusiastically as the President thanks the C-in-C. The marching bands prepare their instruments; officers bark orders; and the 6000 who stand ready along the Champs-Elysee begin their parade.
There was always much argument between the Marine Corps and Starfleet over precedence, but on this day - this anniversary - the two arms of the Federation put their differences aside. As the parade begins its march down the Elysee, it is led by the Regimental Bands of the 1st Marine Regiment and the Starfleet Operational Band Corps, both bands playing the Starfleet March as they take the Salute from the President. Next, comes the Starfleet Academy party in uniform grey. Their march is as eager as their young faces, the next generation of Starship Captains and crewmen resisting the urge to grin wildly as they are whooped and cheered by the crowds lining the streets on either side of them. They are followed by Starfleet Operations, redshirts marching in lockstep with their phaser rifles shouldered. All three arms of Starfleet will pass in the next hours, Starfleet Sciences in Blue parading (as tradition) with Tricorder instead of Phaser and Starfleet Command in Green-gold. Amongst their number in 2261 is the future Captain James T. Kirk, as well as Harry Morrow and Richard Stiles. They are accompanied by many others: 5th Marine Mechanised Regiment (Andorian Imperial Guard) takes the salute from their Armoured Hover Cars, while the Saurian Ranger Corps march their syncopated quick step with unnerving precision.
The Starfleet Corps of Engineers marches to the tune of the Engineer’s March, while the 2nd Fleet Bandsmen accompany their men with the Voice of the Guns. The honour guard of the Vulcan Science Institute marches without music, and as is tradition the crowd falls to respectful silence as they pass down the Elysee. Five of the Vulcan party had marched in the first Federation Day ceremony in 2162 - they will later dine with the President, as honoured guests. Number 10. Marines (Coldstream Guards) march in their Bearskins and Redcoats, brass buttons gleaming in the sun, Captain Bav Revv marching with the same pride he did on Parade duty at the palace in London. On and on the units come from a dozen worlds and a dozen services through the sweltering August sun, the Paris crowd never ceasing in their enthusiasm, the Blue flags of the Federation still waving as wildly now as they did when the Blue and Buffs came past as at the beginning.
Number 14. Marines are the last unit to take the salute, but not because they are the least important, or forgotten. The people of Paris have waited long for the final march past, and the cheers of the crowd crescendo to a roar as La Légion étrangère begins down the avenue. Their band strikes up as they are led on by the Pioneers, a dozen different species (including an Orion, a Bolian and a Betelgusian) all in the same uniform of white and grey with red and green Epaulettes. The Legion is led this year by their commanding officer, Colonel Kar Ch'shrynnis, their scarred antennae sticking out either side of their Kepi as they and their men make their slow march towards the Palais, the crowd cheering as they pass. In four months, they will be wounded on Acamar by a Gatherer Sniper using a Klingon disruptor, and lose their left arm, but that remains in their future.
The ground parade ends, and all eyes turn skyward as the aerial parade begins. It is usually a short ceremony, with the main affair to come in the Afternoon with the flyby in earth orbit over San Francisco. This year, however, there is a twist. After the usual trios of shuttle and fighters pass overhead trailing Blue and White Smoke, Paris is shaken by the roar of Impulse Engines. Above the city appears the USS Constitution, the Flagship of the Federation Home Fleet, her massive engines drowning out the amazed whoops and cheers of the spectators. Her crew have trained for months for the brief 30 seconds they have above the capital; her engines tinkered and modified by the best engineers Starfleet has for optimal atmospheric flight (not, for obvious reasons, what they were designed for). The operation was a surprise to all but Paris Air Traffic Control, Admiral Luteth and Ch’Shukar. It went down like a house on fire, the President himself grinning like a child as the Constitution made its second pass over the Palais de Concorde. Few people get to see a Starship in planetary flight, and never in the numbers that just have, and the sight of a 300-meter-long Ship of the Line soaring above Paris will be something no one will ever forget.
The Constitution’s pass over the city of light is short, for soon it must return to orbit for the next stage of the ceremony over San Francisco. The crowds, jubilant, their throats hoarse from the whooping and cheering, leave the Champs-Elysee and make their way to the lunchtime celebrations. The streets of Paris, like almost every other city, town or settlement in the Federation are cordoned off for street parties, with great tables lining the boulevards and lines of Synthesizers and replicators rolled out of cafes to serve the hundreds of patrons. Great open-air kitchens draw crowds in the Tuileries, cooking immense portions for the crowd. The range of cuisine is as wide as the Federation; Andorian, Vulcan, Rigellian, Bolian, Caitian - you name it, someone is cooking it in Paris.
When you ask a Politician what the Federation is about, they will talk of Freedom of Expression, of Individual Liberty and Minority Rights and protections - of the right to free and fair elections, and the rule of popular sovereignty. If you ask a merchant, they will wax lyrical about Free Trade, fair pricing, the rights of cooperative labour and the principles of S.T.A.R. The Starfleet Officer will implore you about the imperative to explore and discover, to push the envelope of sentient knowledge and understanding to the very edges of the universe. But what will the average citizen tell you the Federation is about? What will they say? If they must point to one thing, what will they point to? What is the dream of the United Federation of Planets to them?
To many, it is those crowds in Paris, from hundreds of worlds and dozens of species, all one in their desire to explore and enjoy and delight in their differences. Where else in the Galaxy can an Andorian, born in San Salvador, dance a Scottish Jig with a Tellarite from Utopia Planitia and a Saurian from Terra Nova? Where else can one eat Rigellian-Italian fusion food in a restaurant run by a human-Izarian couple? What place in the galaxy can people hear English, French, Tellar, Vulcan, Orious-Secondarious and a hundred other languages within one restaurant? Where do kids from planets hundreds of light-years from each other play the same games and play the same pranks on their parents? Where else can refugees from a dozen empires and exiles from a dozen more celebrate their culture in peace and safety, and share it with a society that actively encourages it? That is what the United Federation of Planets represents: the mixing of the known and unknown - the enjoyment of the new, and the sharing of your experience with others as they share it with you - the idea that we all have something to learn from each other no matter what, whether it’s a recipe for Andorian Veal or a new philosophy on the nature of the universe.
Nothing else represents the Federation’s ideals, dreams, and ambitions than the party outside the Suliban Mission in the Rue de Rivoli, where hundreds gather to celebrate the culture and customs of the Subilan. Despite their exile and galactic pariah state, they are greeted with nothing but acceptance on this day. They are as much a part of the Federation Family now as the Humans, Andorians, Vulcans and Tellarites and dozens of other races who have come to form this Galactic polity in the century before. The President himself can be spotted dining within the crowd alongside the Leader of the Suliban Government-in-Exile, Th’rhahlat as jovial as any other member of the public as he danced to the music played by the Mission’s Band.
The President does not join the crowd heading for the Arc de Triomphe to see the live music in the afternoon - as much as he would love to enjoy the medley of Andorian Opera, Vulcan choral, Human Orchestral and Tellarite Jazz, he returns to the Palais de Concorde, enjoying some quiet time in his office with his three partners. There is still much ceremony to come (and far greater eating to do at the State Dinner in the evening), so there is no time for pomp and circumstance in the Palais.
But now the President, along with Starfleet High Command and other dignitaries must ascend to the High Orbit for the Starfleet Flypast. High above Paris and all the other great cities of Earth, the Presidential party fills the observation deck of the San Francisco Fleet Yards to watch the pride of the Star Fleet take the salute. Glinting in the distance, barely visible above the long curve of the planet below, the skeletal framework of the Earth Central Starbase can just be seen. With five years of construction completed, and another 13 to go, what promises to be the largest infrastructure project the Alpha Quadrant has ever seen is another shining example of what the Federation can do - what we are all capable of when we work together; when we discuss, deliberate, hear and understand ourselves and our friends.
The greatest sign of the Strength of the Federation, of course, is the Starfleet. The vessels that sail under the title United Star Ship represent many things to many people; the spirit of exploration; the triumph of science and discovery over ignorance and fear; the victory of liberty, freedom and equality over the forces of despotism and xenophobia. The Federation Starship brings help to those who need it, aid to the weary, the sick and the hungry. Today, these Starships - the Constitution, Miranda, Decatur, Ark Royal and Soval amongst dozens and dozens of others pass the station and take the salute from the Commander in Chief.
Eventually, once the parade finishes, the President steps up to the podium. Silence falls in the Station - as it does in living rooms, auditoriums, public gardens, and theatres across the Federation. Th’rhahlat pauses at the podium, and smiles for a second, before beginning.
“When the Articles of the Federation were signed a century ago, the best that could be said about the Federation was that it was an ‘optimistic project’. To bring together four powers, shattered after six years of existential war with a peerless foe, with their own differences and disputes, and ask them to work together - not just as allies, but as a Union: it seemed like a project beyond anyone’s wildest dreams. Did they think it would work? Did they think that we would be allies a century later? We cannot say. They had their hopes, dreams, and ambitions. Some they fulfilled, some they passed on, but nobody - not even President Archer - could have imagined what we would have achieved with the Federation they brought into being.
We have brought together enemies and turned them into friends. We have created peace in places of strife and war. We have pushed scientific boundaries beyond even our furthest imaginations and created a haven for the exploration of hundreds of cultures. It has not been an easy task - the quest for utopia never is. Perhaps our greatest achievement is less that we have created utopia - but more that in this tempestuous, dangerous, strange galaxy of ours, we have prevented hell. That is what the United Federation of Planets represents - an ongoing mission to create a galaxy where peace can grow, and liberty is maintained for all who seek it. We are more than just a Union: we are a family, and a family that is always growing, and evolving, and changing for the better.”
It is one of Th’rhahlat’s best speeches, rivalled only by his inaugural “Arsenal of Freedom” speech. Many who listen to it remember every second of it. 296 people, however, are not listening to it, and will not hear it for days. Dozens of light-years away, deep in the Federation Phalanx, the crew of the Federation Starship USS Hotspur have no time to watch speeches. They are at General Quarters, as they have been for 11 hours already. Sitting less than 200 metres from the prow of their ship are two D6 class Battlecruisers, their disruptors locked on the Hotspur’s warp core. Sitting behind the Starfleet ship is the merchant carrier Leith Walk, her holds crammed with more than 1300 Suliban and Tandaran refugees - considered escaped “convicts” by the Klingon Empire. The standoff between the Hotspur and the Klingon cruisers will last another 5 hours - by the time the last fireworks over Paris cease, the USS Zhukov and Tellar Secondus will arrive on station and force the Klingons to withdraw. Those 1300 refugees will reach Starbase 10, where they will then be passed onto a new settlement on Eradas IV in the Regulus Sector. Amongst their number is the 11-year-old Suliban Laadam, who 36 years later would become the first Civilian Chief Operations Officer of the Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards, and later lead designer of the Constellation Class Starship.
While the President arrives at the state dinner, a relief operation by Federation Marines on Gibraltar IV rescues 600 miners from a shaft collapse. As the starters are cleared away, the USS Mombassa discovers a low-frequency Pulsar near the Turnstile system, the first of its kind. While the Prime Minister of Earth offers a toast after the main course is finished, Starfleet engineers on Asparax finally restore total functions to the planet’s weather control system. As desserts are served, and the president jokes about the number of courses, the ground is broken on the outpost at Cestus III - the furthest afield Starfleet posting in the galaxy. As the last plates are cleared and the dinner party make their way to the Al-Rashid Hall, The USS Lexington rescues a Klingon warship from being pulled into the atmosphere of a gas giant near Archanis. And, as the guests leave the Palais for private after-parties and long shuttles home, a Starfleet security officer on Acamar will notice an aero car abandoned next to the Federation Mission in the capital and think little of it. It is thirty minutes before lunchtime, and the street is packed with traffic and passers-by. The car might be suspicious, but he has no real desire to kick up a fuss. He will clock off his shift in thirty minutes, and it will become someone else’s problem. When the car bomb explodes in forty-five minutes, it most certainly does. The explosives – which killed 35 people and injured 146 more – were manufactured on Qu’Vat by slave labourers, and delivered into the hands of the Acamarian Rebels by operatives of Klingon Military Intelligence.
As Paris finally goes to bed in the early hours of the morning, many wonder what the next year will bring. Few can imagine that by August 2262, President Th’rhahlat would be dead, his body laid to rest with great ceremony at Highgate cemetery. Even fewer could imagine that by the same day, the UFP would be staring down the brink of total war with the Klingon Empire over the planet Acamar.
Arguably, it starts the evening before, when the ceremonial honour guard begins their march down the Champs-Elysee to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, where four personnel - One Starfleet Officer, One Federation Marine, One Planetary Guardsman and One Civilian stand watch over the Eternal Flame overnight. The flame at the Triomphe is one of the few on earth which is truly eternal - Paris, and much of France, escaped the destruction of the Eugenics and Third World Wars, and the flame that burned in august 2261 is still the one that was lit just under 250 years beforehand.
On the night of August 11th, 2161, the four who stood guard were carefully chosen. Starfleet was represented by Lieutenant Commander Ervv Bav Groth, who had been decorated twice, once for action in Burnham’s war and again for saving the lives of 1800 Orion colonists. The Marine Corps was represented by Sergeant Major Chyss Zh’Wess of the 95th Marine Regiment (the Green Jackets), who had been in action a mere six months earlier helping defend a colony in the Archanis sector from Orion raiders. For the UESPA was Lieutenant Patrick Connolly, a veteran of the Ardana Crisis. Finally, Sural, Vulcan Ambassador to the Council, represented the Civilian arm of the Federation. These four represented the four species that had come together a century beforehand to unite behind a common banner: Liberty, Diplomacy and Friendship. Similar groups of Starfleet personnel stand guard over the Starfleet War Memorial in San Francisco, the new Klingon War Memorial in Les Invalides, the Donatu memorial in New Berlin and at a dozen other memorials across the Federation, watching over their own eternal flames, honour carvings and other places of memory.
For President Th’Rhahlat, the day begins at 7:30 am, when he leaves his residence for the Palais de Concorde. Officially, his ceremonial duties do not start till 8:30 am, but the President works for an hour, checking what reports there are. It is as quiet in the Alpha Quadrant as it is in the halls of the Palais. The day would not be spoiled by some crisis after all, and as the sun rose ever higher over the Capital of the Federation, the low cloud that had hung over the city, threatening to drop a torrential rain all week broke to reveal clear skies and a bright, blistering sun that left sweat on the brow even this early in the day, as a light breeze swept through the streets.
At 8:30 the president left the Palais to begin his first official ceremony of the day: the wreath-laying at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Accompanied by Admiral Ch’Shukar (Commander, Starfleet), the president walks down the Champs Elysée to the Arc de Triomphe, the guard of Federation Marines (Number 1. Regiment: The Blue and Buffs) marching either side of the pair. Across the planet, Prime Minister of Earth Xian Jing and the C-in-C of Starfleet, Admiral Luteth, begin their walk across the Golden Gate Bridge from Starfleet Headquarters to the Starfleet War Memorial, a similar honour guard accompanying them.
The joint ceremony had first been held in 2181, under President Archer and Admiral Shran on the 20th anniversary of the end of the Romulan War. It is a solemn moment of reflection for the leaders of the Federation to contemplate the sacrifice of the past, and the dream of the Union that countless died for. The wreaths are laid, and the President, Admiral and other guests bow their heads for the 3 minutes of silence. The only noise under the Arch is the sound of the flames flickering, and the breeze passing between the trees that line the avenue outside. Paris, soon to be filled with crowds cheering and laughing, is silent as it remembers. The bugler plays the Final Recall; the Marines change posts with the night-time honour guard, and the President and Admiral return to the Palais, accompanied by the four who stood watch over the unknown soldier.
Normally (as is eternal tradition) Paris empties out in August; most Parisians have seen the Federation Day parade at some point in their lives, and it is much more preferable to watch it from the comfort of the Riviera or Bordeaux than it is to line the streets with tourists from three dozen worlds. But on this day-the one-hundredth anniversary of the United Federation of Planets - not a single Parisian has fled for Toulouse or Nice. Instead, their doors are thrown open to the masses: family friends; old comrades and acquaintances; those who are known and those who are strangers to the great city, for today the people of Paris are the magnanimous and grateful hosts to the entire Federation. There is still an hour to go before the Parade begins at 10:30 but even as the President returns to the Palais de Concorde crowds are filling the cafes and lining the streets. By the time he steps onto the platform, over half a million people will be watching him in person, with billions watching on vid-screen across Earth, the Sol system and those planets who are within live subspace range of Earth.
The Parade begins as it has since 2162. The President, accompanied by the Prime Minister of Earth, is invited by the C-in-C of Starfleet to inspect the parade, The C-in-C will then signal for the assembled bands to play the Federation Anthem. The tune is strong, amplified by a myriad of marvels so it is heard as clearly in the Tuilerie gardens and Champs de Mars as it is in Hyde Park and al-Rashid Square. It is a wordless anthem, for what language could really unite the Federation as well as music, and even now 80 years after it was first played it still carries its tune strongly through the streets of Paris. The crowd applauds enthusiastically as the President thanks the C-in-C. The marching bands prepare their instruments; officers bark orders; and the 6000 who stand ready along the Champs-Elysee begin their parade.
There was always much argument between the Marine Corps and Starfleet over precedence, but on this day - this anniversary - the two arms of the Federation put their differences aside. As the parade begins its march down the Elysee, it is led by the Regimental Bands of the 1st Marine Regiment and the Starfleet Operational Band Corps, both bands playing the Starfleet March as they take the Salute from the President. Next, comes the Starfleet Academy party in uniform grey. Their march is as eager as their young faces, the next generation of Starship Captains and crewmen resisting the urge to grin wildly as they are whooped and cheered by the crowds lining the streets on either side of them. They are followed by Starfleet Operations, redshirts marching in lockstep with their phaser rifles shouldered. All three arms of Starfleet will pass in the next hours, Starfleet Sciences in Blue parading (as tradition) with Tricorder instead of Phaser and Starfleet Command in Green-gold. Amongst their number in 2261 is the future Captain James T. Kirk, as well as Harry Morrow and Richard Stiles. They are accompanied by many others: 5th Marine Mechanised Regiment (Andorian Imperial Guard) takes the salute from their Armoured Hover Cars, while the Saurian Ranger Corps march their syncopated quick step with unnerving precision.
The Starfleet Corps of Engineers marches to the tune of the Engineer’s March, while the 2nd Fleet Bandsmen accompany their men with the Voice of the Guns. The honour guard of the Vulcan Science Institute marches without music, and as is tradition the crowd falls to respectful silence as they pass down the Elysee. Five of the Vulcan party had marched in the first Federation Day ceremony in 2162 - they will later dine with the President, as honoured guests. Number 10. Marines (Coldstream Guards) march in their Bearskins and Redcoats, brass buttons gleaming in the sun, Captain Bav Revv marching with the same pride he did on Parade duty at the palace in London. On and on the units come from a dozen worlds and a dozen services through the sweltering August sun, the Paris crowd never ceasing in their enthusiasm, the Blue flags of the Federation still waving as wildly now as they did when the Blue and Buffs came past as at the beginning.
Number 14. Marines are the last unit to take the salute, but not because they are the least important, or forgotten. The people of Paris have waited long for the final march past, and the cheers of the crowd crescendo to a roar as La Légion étrangère begins down the avenue. Their band strikes up as they are led on by the Pioneers, a dozen different species (including an Orion, a Bolian and a Betelgusian) all in the same uniform of white and grey with red and green Epaulettes. The Legion is led this year by their commanding officer, Colonel Kar Ch'shrynnis, their scarred antennae sticking out either side of their Kepi as they and their men make their slow march towards the Palais, the crowd cheering as they pass. In four months, they will be wounded on Acamar by a Gatherer Sniper using a Klingon disruptor, and lose their left arm, but that remains in their future.
The ground parade ends, and all eyes turn skyward as the aerial parade begins. It is usually a short ceremony, with the main affair to come in the Afternoon with the flyby in earth orbit over San Francisco. This year, however, there is a twist. After the usual trios of shuttle and fighters pass overhead trailing Blue and White Smoke, Paris is shaken by the roar of Impulse Engines. Above the city appears the USS Constitution, the Flagship of the Federation Home Fleet, her massive engines drowning out the amazed whoops and cheers of the spectators. Her crew have trained for months for the brief 30 seconds they have above the capital; her engines tinkered and modified by the best engineers Starfleet has for optimal atmospheric flight (not, for obvious reasons, what they were designed for). The operation was a surprise to all but Paris Air Traffic Control, Admiral Luteth and Ch’Shukar. It went down like a house on fire, the President himself grinning like a child as the Constitution made its second pass over the Palais de Concorde. Few people get to see a Starship in planetary flight, and never in the numbers that just have, and the sight of a 300-meter-long Ship of the Line soaring above Paris will be something no one will ever forget.
The Constitution’s pass over the city of light is short, for soon it must return to orbit for the next stage of the ceremony over San Francisco. The crowds, jubilant, their throats hoarse from the whooping and cheering, leave the Champs-Elysee and make their way to the lunchtime celebrations. The streets of Paris, like almost every other city, town or settlement in the Federation are cordoned off for street parties, with great tables lining the boulevards and lines of Synthesizers and replicators rolled out of cafes to serve the hundreds of patrons. Great open-air kitchens draw crowds in the Tuileries, cooking immense portions for the crowd. The range of cuisine is as wide as the Federation; Andorian, Vulcan, Rigellian, Bolian, Caitian - you name it, someone is cooking it in Paris.
When you ask a Politician what the Federation is about, they will talk of Freedom of Expression, of Individual Liberty and Minority Rights and protections - of the right to free and fair elections, and the rule of popular sovereignty. If you ask a merchant, they will wax lyrical about Free Trade, fair pricing, the rights of cooperative labour and the principles of S.T.A.R. The Starfleet Officer will implore you about the imperative to explore and discover, to push the envelope of sentient knowledge and understanding to the very edges of the universe. But what will the average citizen tell you the Federation is about? What will they say? If they must point to one thing, what will they point to? What is the dream of the United Federation of Planets to them?
To many, it is those crowds in Paris, from hundreds of worlds and dozens of species, all one in their desire to explore and enjoy and delight in their differences. Where else in the Galaxy can an Andorian, born in San Salvador, dance a Scottish Jig with a Tellarite from Utopia Planitia and a Saurian from Terra Nova? Where else can one eat Rigellian-Italian fusion food in a restaurant run by a human-Izarian couple? What place in the galaxy can people hear English, French, Tellar, Vulcan, Orious-Secondarious and a hundred other languages within one restaurant? Where do kids from planets hundreds of light-years from each other play the same games and play the same pranks on their parents? Where else can refugees from a dozen empires and exiles from a dozen more celebrate their culture in peace and safety, and share it with a society that actively encourages it? That is what the United Federation of Planets represents: the mixing of the known and unknown - the enjoyment of the new, and the sharing of your experience with others as they share it with you - the idea that we all have something to learn from each other no matter what, whether it’s a recipe for Andorian Veal or a new philosophy on the nature of the universe.
Nothing else represents the Federation’s ideals, dreams, and ambitions than the party outside the Suliban Mission in the Rue de Rivoli, where hundreds gather to celebrate the culture and customs of the Subilan. Despite their exile and galactic pariah state, they are greeted with nothing but acceptance on this day. They are as much a part of the Federation Family now as the Humans, Andorians, Vulcans and Tellarites and dozens of other races who have come to form this Galactic polity in the century before. The President himself can be spotted dining within the crowd alongside the Leader of the Suliban Government-in-Exile, Th’rhahlat as jovial as any other member of the public as he danced to the music played by the Mission’s Band.
The President does not join the crowd heading for the Arc de Triomphe to see the live music in the afternoon - as much as he would love to enjoy the medley of Andorian Opera, Vulcan choral, Human Orchestral and Tellarite Jazz, he returns to the Palais de Concorde, enjoying some quiet time in his office with his three partners. There is still much ceremony to come (and far greater eating to do at the State Dinner in the evening), so there is no time for pomp and circumstance in the Palais.
But now the President, along with Starfleet High Command and other dignitaries must ascend to the High Orbit for the Starfleet Flypast. High above Paris and all the other great cities of Earth, the Presidential party fills the observation deck of the San Francisco Fleet Yards to watch the pride of the Star Fleet take the salute. Glinting in the distance, barely visible above the long curve of the planet below, the skeletal framework of the Earth Central Starbase can just be seen. With five years of construction completed, and another 13 to go, what promises to be the largest infrastructure project the Alpha Quadrant has ever seen is another shining example of what the Federation can do - what we are all capable of when we work together; when we discuss, deliberate, hear and understand ourselves and our friends.
The greatest sign of the Strength of the Federation, of course, is the Starfleet. The vessels that sail under the title United Star Ship represent many things to many people; the spirit of exploration; the triumph of science and discovery over ignorance and fear; the victory of liberty, freedom and equality over the forces of despotism and xenophobia. The Federation Starship brings help to those who need it, aid to the weary, the sick and the hungry. Today, these Starships - the Constitution, Miranda, Decatur, Ark Royal and Soval amongst dozens and dozens of others pass the station and take the salute from the Commander in Chief.
Eventually, once the parade finishes, the President steps up to the podium. Silence falls in the Station - as it does in living rooms, auditoriums, public gardens, and theatres across the Federation. Th’rhahlat pauses at the podium, and smiles for a second, before beginning.
“When the Articles of the Federation were signed a century ago, the best that could be said about the Federation was that it was an ‘optimistic project’. To bring together four powers, shattered after six years of existential war with a peerless foe, with their own differences and disputes, and ask them to work together - not just as allies, but as a Union: it seemed like a project beyond anyone’s wildest dreams. Did they think it would work? Did they think that we would be allies a century later? We cannot say. They had their hopes, dreams, and ambitions. Some they fulfilled, some they passed on, but nobody - not even President Archer - could have imagined what we would have achieved with the Federation they brought into being.
We have brought together enemies and turned them into friends. We have created peace in places of strife and war. We have pushed scientific boundaries beyond even our furthest imaginations and created a haven for the exploration of hundreds of cultures. It has not been an easy task - the quest for utopia never is. Perhaps our greatest achievement is less that we have created utopia - but more that in this tempestuous, dangerous, strange galaxy of ours, we have prevented hell. That is what the United Federation of Planets represents - an ongoing mission to create a galaxy where peace can grow, and liberty is maintained for all who seek it. We are more than just a Union: we are a family, and a family that is always growing, and evolving, and changing for the better.”
It is one of Th’rhahlat’s best speeches, rivalled only by his inaugural “Arsenal of Freedom” speech. Many who listen to it remember every second of it. 296 people, however, are not listening to it, and will not hear it for days. Dozens of light-years away, deep in the Federation Phalanx, the crew of the Federation Starship USS Hotspur have no time to watch speeches. They are at General Quarters, as they have been for 11 hours already. Sitting less than 200 metres from the prow of their ship are two D6 class Battlecruisers, their disruptors locked on the Hotspur’s warp core. Sitting behind the Starfleet ship is the merchant carrier Leith Walk, her holds crammed with more than 1300 Suliban and Tandaran refugees - considered escaped “convicts” by the Klingon Empire. The standoff between the Hotspur and the Klingon cruisers will last another 5 hours - by the time the last fireworks over Paris cease, the USS Zhukov and Tellar Secondus will arrive on station and force the Klingons to withdraw. Those 1300 refugees will reach Starbase 10, where they will then be passed onto a new settlement on Eradas IV in the Regulus Sector. Amongst their number is the 11-year-old Suliban Laadam, who 36 years later would become the first Civilian Chief Operations Officer of the Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards, and later lead designer of the Constellation Class Starship.
While the President arrives at the state dinner, a relief operation by Federation Marines on Gibraltar IV rescues 600 miners from a shaft collapse. As the starters are cleared away, the USS Mombassa discovers a low-frequency Pulsar near the Turnstile system, the first of its kind. While the Prime Minister of Earth offers a toast after the main course is finished, Starfleet engineers on Asparax finally restore total functions to the planet’s weather control system. As desserts are served, and the president jokes about the number of courses, the ground is broken on the outpost at Cestus III - the furthest afield Starfleet posting in the galaxy. As the last plates are cleared and the dinner party make their way to the Al-Rashid Hall, The USS Lexington rescues a Klingon warship from being pulled into the atmosphere of a gas giant near Archanis. And, as the guests leave the Palais for private after-parties and long shuttles home, a Starfleet security officer on Acamar will notice an aero car abandoned next to the Federation Mission in the capital and think little of it. It is thirty minutes before lunchtime, and the street is packed with traffic and passers-by. The car might be suspicious, but he has no real desire to kick up a fuss. He will clock off his shift in thirty minutes, and it will become someone else’s problem. When the car bomb explodes in forty-five minutes, it most certainly does. The explosives – which killed 35 people and injured 146 more – were manufactured on Qu’Vat by slave labourers, and delivered into the hands of the Acamarian Rebels by operatives of Klingon Military Intelligence.
As Paris finally goes to bed in the early hours of the morning, many wonder what the next year will bring. Few can imagine that by August 2262, President Th’rhahlat would be dead, his body laid to rest with great ceremony at Highgate cemetery. Even fewer could imagine that by the same day, the UFP would be staring down the brink of total war with the Klingon Empire over the planet Acamar.