The Good That Men Do - Andy Mangels [7]
But the Denobulan physician was undeterred. “You’ll recall that it was Ambassador Soval who began the rather resounding round of applause that followed your remarks. I’m certain you’ve noticed by now that he isn’t very easily impressed.”
Archer nodded, his gaze lighting briefly on silver-haired Admiral Sam Gardner, who was standing in the forefront of the crowd of onlookers beside the stern-faced Admiral Gregory Black and the ramrod-straight, crew-cut MACO commander, General George Casey. Archer recalled that nearly four years earlier, Soval hadn’t been bashful about recommending that Admiral Forrest pass him over for the assignment of commanding Enterprise in favor of Gardner, who then had yet to exchange his captain’s bars for an admiral’s desk. Until only about half a year ago, Soval had rarely missed an opportunity to remind Archer that he continually looked askance at both his captaincy and his judgment.
“I’ve got to admit,” Archer said, “Soval can be tough, even as Vulcans go.”
Phlox’s smile briefly widened to preternatural size before returning to typical human proportions. “Precisely, Captain.”
“So the delegates need to emphasize and reinforce all their points of agreement in the wake of the Terra Prime attack,” Archer said. “That makes sense. What doesn’t make sense to me is doing it in front of a live audience. They must have already had a closed-door meeting to nail down the substance of whatever they’re planning to announce today.”
“No doubt, Captain,” Phlox said. “But the general public suffered a great deal of psychological trauma at the hands of Terra Prime. And although the terrorists’ actual casualty count was thankfully low, the incident partially reopened some of the profound wounds inflicted by the Xindi nearly two years ago.”
“People don’t easily forget seven million deaths,” Archer said, his mood darkening with the onslaught of bitter memories. Archer suspected that forgiveness for what the Xindi did would probably come only after there was no one left alive on Earth capable of remembering firsthand the horror of March 22, 2153. That’s a wound for future generations to heal, he thought, pining momentarily for a utopian future he knew he’d never glimpse himself. All the more reason why the Coalition of Planets has to succeed.
Phlox continued, “Like any demagogue, Paxton played to your people’s basest fears by reminding them of their vulnerabilities. Therefore the public needs reassurance most of all. And what better way to reassure the public than with what Commander Tucker might refer to as a ‘dog and pony show’?”
Archer felt a wistful twinge at Phlox’s mention of his oldest friend. He wished Trip could be at his side for this historic occasion- and that the Terra Prime affair hadn’t made it necessary for both Trip and T’Pol to be away now on bereavement leave. He couldn’t think of anything worse than what the two of them were facing now. Fortunately, Earth’s Prime Minister Samuels was calling the day’s proceedings to order, forcing Archer to set aside the woes of his absent friends and colleagues.
The crowd of onlookers quickly quieted as Samuels made his way to the press podium set in the center of the open torus formed by the conference tables. Archer wondered how many people besides himself were aware that Samuels had once belonged to the Terra Prime organization. Archer wondered what would happen should that fact ever become common knowledge. Would it tear the delicate new Coalition apart? Or would it be regarded as something positive, a sign that people can always change for the better?
Archer sincerely hoped for the latter.
Samuels, a ginger-haired, genial-looking man of middle age and medium height, flashed a broad smile at the audience as the journalists’ vid units zeroed in on him. A slender, palm-sized rectangular electronic translation device- one of the units that Hoshi had recently upgraded specifically for use by