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Edmund Atkinson had been covering politics for the Times of London for twenty years, and specifically covering the Palais de la Concorde for five, and he had yet to not experience a mild thrill when he walked into the council chambers.

A rectangular room located at the center of the building’s first floor, this was where the Federation Council met, as well as the various sub-councils, and was where much of the business of government was done. Right below this floor was the street-the Champs-Elysees ran under the fifteen-story building, which was supported by four duranium pillars. The structure stood on the very site where, in the twenty-second century, the Traite d’Unification was signed, uniting all Earth’s governments into one.

The Federation was, at its heart, ridiculous. Creatures who’d evolved on hundreds of different worlds, people who’d formed nations that ranged from one continent on one planet to several dozen colonies, alien beings who had absolutely nothing in common save the simple fact of sentience-and yet, for more than two hundred years, they had come together in this room and done the business of government in a manner that was wholly democratic and egalitarian.

Atkinson’s first opinion column for the Times was on that very subject, and that had been before he was assigned to the Palais and got to see it up close. If anything, that made him more impressed, that more than a hundred contentious beings, not a single one of whom evolved on the same planet as any of the others in the room, could collaborate.

The Federation president’s office was located on the fifteenth floor atop the structure. Currently that president was Jaresh-Inyo, a Grazerite who had just won a second term in a landslide. He had called an emergency session of the Federation Council, which was why Atkinson was here rather than in his home office in London, putting the finishing touches on his latest column.

Depending on what happened in the next few minutes, that column may yet have a different topic. Atkinson had no idea what the subject of this meeting was, and his fellow members of the fourth estate either didn’t know or were pretending they didn’t.

About half the councillors were in their seats on the benches that lined the east and west walls of the chambers. Many were talking among themselves, others to people on the viewers at their stations.

When the doors to the south wall parted, and three plainclothes security guards entered, it heralded President Jaresh-Inyo’s arrival. The massive Grazerite walked in at a brisk pace, approaching the podium that was decorated with the emblem of the United Federation of Planets. The podium faced the speaker’s floor, which sat between the two sets of councillors’ benches. During a session, only the person at the podium and someone on the speaker’s floor could speak for the record.

The room quieted down as the president approached the podium. “Gentlebeings, thank you for coming. We will forgo roll call. Half an hour ago, a message was sent to the Federation Council from Cardassia Prime by the Detapa Council, with the request that it be played in open council-hence this emergency session.”

The president then looked to the side at the clerk, who nodded in response, and touched a control on her desk. Behind the podium, the viewscreen lit up with the face of a familiar Cardassian. Kotan Pa’Dar was a longtime member in good standing of the Detapa Council, Cardassia’s civilian governmental body. Recently, Pa’Dar had been elevated to the position of first speaker.

While that meant a bigger salary for Pa’Dar, it meant little beyond that, as the Detapa Council was quite toothless. The Cardassian Union was run by Central Command and the Obsidian Order. The council’s function was purely ornamental-which made Atkinson wonder just what they could have to say that would necessitate an emergency session.

“My name is Kotan Pa’Dar, First Speaker of the Detapa Council. I carry a message from the Cardassian Union to the Federation Council, the Romulan Senate, the Klingon High