Runner Up 1 20403.14

Corridors of Time - Cdr Aitrus Colso

© 2004 by Federation Space and the author pen named Aitrus Colso

What are you doing? Volan asked himself as his small craft passed through the wormhole. He chided himself and shook his head, surprised at his own thoughts. You know perfectly well what you’re doing and why you’re doing it. So did all of the other officers on the bridge. Of course, they never had a doubt about either what or why they were doing this. They didn’t question anything.

“How much longer until we reach the Alpha Quadrant, First Remat’aka?” Volan asked, turning back to the standing officer. Both wore their headsets, enabling them to see outside the ship despite the lack of a viewscreen. Some of the newer ships had them, but Volan had never gotten used to their being there. I doubt I ever will, he thought, knowing that his next clone would be more at ease with them. May he be a long way off.

The Jem’Hadar turned around to address the Vorta. “Less than three minutes,” he replied curtly. Volan nodded, laughing on the inside as one of the humans might to his dog. Oh, if only they understood the intricacies of language, he thought. Of course, that’s what the Vorta were for, instead.

“Very well. Continue course, and prepare to hail the starbase as soon as we reach the far side.” Volan still didn’t understand why the Founders had given him this mission of peace, but he had no choice but to obey. And obey he would.

“Sir, I’m picking up a neutrino surge coming from the wormhole,” the lieutenant said in the operations center of Starbase 12. “Something’s coming through.” He looked up at the station’s commander, wondering just what to make of it.

I know how he feels, Commander Jason Conley thought while under the man’s stare. Even though the Dominion War was nearly a quarter of a century old, the First General War was all too fresh in everyone’s mind. We couldn’t fight them again, not now. With the losses first to the Romulans and then to the Borg, a Dominion invasion now would spell the end of the Federation.

“Raise all shields, power to weapons. Send a message to Star Fleet Command and to Bajor, telling them what’s happening.” He paused as his orders were carried out, and then turned to the operations officer. “Sound general quarters. All Star Fleet personnel are to report to battle stations, civilians to their evacuation stations. If worse comes to worst, I want to be able to get them out of here.”

“Here it comes, sir,” the science lieutenant said. The viewscreen flickered, and the base status screen was replaced by a view of the wormhole opening. It had been so long since they had seen it that the beauty almost overwhelmed the entire ops crew. Then the Dominion attack ship appeared in the center of it, and they remembered why they were watching.

Jason waited for more ships to pour out. He waited for what seemed like an eternity. They didn’t come. That eternity ended and the wormhole closed, leaving the long Jem’Hadar ship heading towards the base. What’s this new trickery? he thought.

“Sir,” the ops officer called out, “they’re hailing us. The Vorta would like to talk with you.”

“What the devil are they up to,” Jason muttered under his breath. “Put him on screen, Lieutenant.” He wasn’t sure that he really wanted to see what they were up to, but he didn’t have much of a choice.

The screen flickered to show a Vorta wearing a VR headset, like they had to on all Dominion ships. “Ah, Commander, how good of you to speak with me. I wasn’t sure you were going to.”

Jason tried to hide just how close the Vorta was to being correct in that assumption. “We always have time to talk to the Dominion,” he said, trying to be diplomatic, despite having come up through tactical during the First General War. “What is it that you want, mister….?”

“Volan. My name is Volan, Commander.” He smiled one of the stock Vorta smiles before continuing. “And we’ve come to negotiate an alliance with the Federation, if you would be so kind as to inform your superiors of this.”

Jason had to hit the mute button so he could get his officers to be quiet. “Be quiet, people! We’re still on duty. Grayson,” he said to the ops manager, “get the Federation Defense Minister on Bajor on the comm and tell him what he just told me, and then keep going up until you can talk with the Secretary of State and even the President herself. They’ll want to act on this, even if he’s not telling the truth.” He sighed, and the looked back up at the viewscreen where the Vorta was waiting patiently, and switched off the mute. “I’m sorry about that, Volan. You’re statement just caught us by surprise.”

“No apology is necessary, Commander. However,” the Vorta said, “we could stand with clearance to dock our ship inside the starbase.” As if on cue, he came up with another of those annoying smiles.

“Of course,” Jason replied, and gave a diplomatic smile of his own. “Before I give you that, though, I will ask one thing of you: would you keep your Jem’Hadar on board? You are free to leave, but they are to be confined to the ship.”

“Of course. I understand,” Volan said in his soothing tones, “especially with the rash of hostilities between us in the past. I would surely make the same request in your place.” Jason signaled to Grayson, who cut the channel and handed the signal over to the port authority to set up docking, before going back to trying to get in touch with someone important enough to deal with the new situation.

He walked up the small flight of stairs to his office, a design taken from the previous station here, Deep Space Nine, and tried to figure out just what on earth he would say to his superiors. This is definitely a day for the books, he thought. He sat down behind the desk, and hit a control before starting to speak.

“Commander’s log, supplemental,” he intoned for the computer. “There’s really no easy way to put this, so I’ll just have to be blunt. We have just been contacted by the Dominion for the first time since the First General War. This time, however, they are talking peace and alliance. While I want to believe their words at face value, I cannot in good conscience do so. Too many good men and women died in both the General War and the previous Dominion War for us to do so. And so we will let time prove their words.

“But one thing still bothers me,” he continued. “While it is obvious that they need allies to even try and conquer the Alpha Quadrant, why would they come to us, the avowed peacemakers of the quadrant, for a war ally? And if they are looking for an ally for their Gamma Quadrant operations, what force could have them so scared that they need us, their enemy twice running in the past thirty years? I guess that we shall just have to see, won’t we?”

Volan stepped through the airlock and into the base’s corridors, only to be greeted by three members of Star Fleet Security. “We’re here to escort you to your quarters,” one of them said. Volan just nodded, knowing how wary these people were of the Dominion and all of its agents.

As the officers took him through the hallways, he was struck at just how much like the Jem’Hadar these… aliens could be. It’s almost as if the curtness and dedication to the task at hand isn’t a species trait of the Jem’Hadar, he thought, but merely a part of the job. He laughed as they walked, causing one of the guards to look at him from the corner of his eye. Volan merely shook his head and kept going.

Finally, they stopped outside a doorway and opened it for him. “The base commandant, Commander Jason Conley, would like to invite you to dinner in his quarters at 1930 hours, if that is acceptable to you.”

Volan nodded. “That would be most welcome after eating field rations for over a week. Give him my thanks, and tell him I will attend at the appointed hour.” The officer merely nodded and gestured to the others. All three walked off silently, but with more bounce in their step than they had shown when they were escorting him. No, security officers didn’t change, even between species and nations.

The room was a VIP suite, obviously, but it didn’t measure up to some of the ones he had had the luxury of experiencing before. It surely doesn’t meet with the standard set by that room on Risa I was in during the last war. He smiled at the thought. He was one of the few Vorta left that had been through that war in person, not just in a past life. What is it the humans say? he asked himself. Ah, that’s it. C’est la vie, yes, that’s it. ‘Such is life’.

After checking the chronometer, he settled in to the quarters, understanding that they would be his home for a while, especially if they believe his request for an alliance. But in any event, it was such for at least the next few hours, which passed all too quickly. Supper came before he knew it, but the ending came much too slowly.

Volan stepped out into the hall with the commander after supper had ended. “That was a very pleasant dinner,” Volan lied. “We should do this again very soon.” Jason replied with pleasantries of his own, most likely said with the same forced smile. Volan didn’t notice and didn’t care. As soon as etiquette allowed, he half-bowed to his host and walked back down the corridor towards his own quarters. Just around the first turn in the corridor, two yellow-shirted security officers came out and flanked him as he walked, guarding him.

He shook his head as he tried to think. Dinner had been a disaster, as the commander, Jason, had kept trying to lure more information out of him, and Volan had maintained his silence as to the specifics of his mission. How close the man had come in guessing, though! How did he figure out that the Borg were part of the reason? He surmised that either Jason was very insightful, or he had a Vulcan on his staff. Volan would have bet on the latter, if the Dominion had given him any gold-pressed latinum to bet with.

Volan consoled himself with the fact that he had only guessed part of the reason, not all of it. At least he doesn’t know about the Founders. At least, not that the battle the Founder, the one the Alpha solids had called Odo, had been waging with the others, the war of words to convince them that not all solids were evil, had finally been won. That finally the Founders had determined that it would be better to leave the Alpha Quadrant in peace than to try and conquer it. And so they send me.

Volan walked into his quarter, leaving the two security officers outside the door. He sighed and walked over to a chair and nearly collapsed into it. “I wish I was with the Romulans instead,” he muttered to himself. “At least they came straight to the point.” While he was both trained and genetically programmed to be a diplomat, sometimes it could be extremely tiring. But the Founders had tasked him with the job to negotiate this alliance, and so negotiate this alliance he will.

“Welcome aboard, Ambassador, Admiral,” Jason said to the two dignitaries descending from the airlock. One the left was Ambassador Tralna, a Bolian member of the Federation Diplomatic Corps, and one of their best, barring some of the higher members of the UFP government itself. Standing beside and slightly behind Tralna was Commodore Julianna Valdrin, head of the Directorate of Intelligence and advisor to the Federation Council. Amazing the notice something like this can draw, Jason thought. Not that it’s not worth noticing, but still.

“Thank you, Commander,” Commodore Valdrin replied. “I look forward to seeing how you have this conference set up, although I am sure that the entire operation is safe in your hands.” Jason smiled, suddenly wondering whether he was looking at a diplomat and an admiral or two diplomats. “Now, if you don’t mind, we’d like to go ahead and go to the conference room.”

“Alright,” Jason said, waving them to one side of the airlock. “I was going to offer your quarters first, but that works as well, sir.” He waved them down the corridor. “It’s not very far.”

It was a bit farther away than Jason had made it out to be, but still relatively close by for a station this size. “Here we are,” he said as they entered the ward room. “The room has been soundproofed and swept for any surveillance devices. There are secure links to the security footage for both the Federation and Dominion parties, the Dominion feed being routed back to their ship for recording there, ours going to whatever location your delegation chooses, Madame Ambassador.” She nodded her thanks. “Other than that, all that’s in this chamber is the table, two chairs, and a small replicator for whatever food and drink you might require. Oh, and a full supply of padds to keep track of the negotiations with.” He smiled at her to show that he was making a joke, even though he wasn’t kidding.

“Thank you, Commander. We shall most likely go through them quickly.” She took the joke in stride, but continued on with her work. “As for the image feed, set up a room near my quarters for my staff to work in. My adjutant will give you a list of everything they’ll need.” She sighed, and turned back around to face Jason. “I’d also like you to work with my staff during the negotiations. Though my staff is very well aware of all the facts of the negotiations, I’d like to have someone in there who can help me to see the strategic value of what we gain and what we lose here.” She looked at Admiral Valdrin, standing next to the table. “I assume this can be cleared with Star Fleet Command?”

The admiral nodded. “It won’t be a problem… assuming the commander accepts, of course.” She looked at Jason, waiting for his response.

“Of course, Madame Ambassador. I look forward to watching the negotiations and assisting in whatever way is necessary.” He smiled, and then escorted the pair to their quarters.

Preparations took little more than a day. Ambassador Tralna’s staff required very little to keep their operations going, consisting mostly of a pair of computer terminals and a holoemitter to play the information feed on. The Dominion delegation required even less, considering it consisted of the lone Vorta and his Jem’Hadar escort. And so, two days after the arrival of the Federation delegates, negotiations began.

“That is out of the question,” Volan said. “We could never agree to such… stringent terms.” Stringent doesn’t begin to describe this, he thought, but was very glad that his genetic engineering prevented him from saying it, or from saying things worse.

“Why not?” the Bolian ambassador asked him. “A Federation presence in the Gamma Quadrant would be a huge sign of trust and friendship, and that is the reason you came to us in the first place, is it not?”

“Well, yes,” Volan was forced to say. “However, building a starbase in the Idrin system? That is a bit much, even for the sake of friendship.” Tralna just sat back, staring at him. Let’s see how she likes this, Volan thought. “However, if you were to reciprocate by, say, letting us a White production facility in the Bajoran system…” He let himself trail off suggestively.

He watched her eyes go wide. “Point taken,” she muttered, and struck the point off of her padd. “A starbase is out of the question. However, some form of Federation presence in the Gamma Quadrant must be allowed if this is to work. And, we would reciprocate by allowing the Dominion a presence here, both forces being the same kind of group: a token show of friendship, not a fleet to take over a system single-handed.”

“Of course,” he said deferentially. “A small group we could accept.” Another stroke on the padds both representatives had marked the point as one for further discussion, as both sides had agreed that it should happen. How it should happen, though, he thought, is still up for grabs. “On to the next point, Ambassador?”

“Yes, I do believe so,” she replied. “Point seventeen, that of information exchange. You have many technologies that our scientists have been wanting to understand fully ever since we made first contact with the Dominion thirty years ago.”

“True,” Volan replied. “However, what would you reciprocate with? You have no technology which we would find even remotely interesting.”

She sighed. “Okay, so we have no technology to trade. Is there anything else you might be interested in? Any species contacts, historical records… anything?”

He looked down at the table, rummaged through the padds for a moment, and came up with one. “Ah, here we go.” He scanned through the document on it, and then stopped. “What about the Borg? Both your most recent encounter and all of those previous. I do believe that the Founders would find that information most interesting, especially your medical reports on the assimilation process.”

Tralna looked at Volan, caught off-guard by the request. “I don’t think that would be a problem, but that is a most… unusual request. I’d have to clear it with the President, and also go through Fleet Admiral Beckett to get the Star Fleet reports.”

“Very well,” Volan said. “Do you wish to go do so now, or continue on for the day and come back to this at a later time?”

Tralna clearly thought it over, looking down at her padds for a moment. “I think we should adjourn for the day, and pick up again here tomorrow, if that’s fine with you.” Volan nodded. Both stood and, after gathering up their padds, left the room from opposite doors.

As the playback of the latest session ended, Jason hit the deactivation switch and the holoemitters shut down before the Federation seal and stardate appeared. “Why would they want data on the Borg?” he asked no one in particular.

Ambassador Tralna, however, took it as being directed at her, and said “That’s the reason I came to you, Commander.” She stood from where she had been sitting watching herself and Volan and walked towards the window. “You know them extremely well: after all, you were in one of their internment camps during the General War weren’t you?” He could only nod. “Well, then, you should have some insight into what the Jem’Hadar and Vorta think like. While I know you can’t know anything about the Founders, I’m sure that you can glean something from your experience there.”

I don’t really want to do so, now that you mention it, he thought. No one who had been in an internment camp for extended periods of time wanted to talk about them very much. Even such illustrious people as Martok, Worf, and Bashir never mentioned them, even in their memoirs except as a passing mention. But, she hadn’t asked for a retelling of his experience, merely that he use it. That he might just be able to do.

“Well,” he started, “one thing that they always did in their interrogations was question me about different alien species, such as the Tholians, the Bynars, even the Q. Whether they were gauging potential enemies or potential allies, I don’t know. This could be the same thing. They’ve heard of the Borg, but have never encountered them, and so are looking to find out more.”

“But why?” Commodore Valdrin asked, ending her silence. “They are asking for information about a species which they would have no way of contacting and no good way to defend against even with the information, and in exchange for some of their best technical secrets? That just doesn’t add up.” She looked over at Ambassador Tralna. “What, specifically, are they asking for?”

Tralna looked down at her padd. “Schematics of each encountered ship type, all the information we have on the transwarp network, medical records of the assimilation process, the logs from the USS Voyager pertaining to their Borg encounters, information on their nanoprobes…”

“Wait,” Valdrin interrupted. “Information on nanoprobes? What could they do with those?” Jason was about to speak when she answered her own question. “They could reproduce the nanoprobes and possibly use those to increase the power of their weaponry. They already lace their disruptor beams with chemicals such as anti-coagulants, so who knows what they could do if they could somehow lace the beams with nanoprobes.”

“But there’s another possibility,” Jason said. “What if the Dominion actually has made contact with the Borg? What if they are trying to ally with us to help defend against them, and this information is one way in which they are doing so?” Silence descended on the room as the idea sank in. Assimilated Jem’Hadar, he thought. No, that’s not the worst. Assimilated founders. That’s a scary thought.

“So,” Tralna said into the silence, “of our two possibilities, which one is right?” She knew it was a question without a true answer, but she asked anyway, more likely just to facilitate their thoughts by putting the question in words. “Are they asking for this alliance because they have run up against the Borg and need help, or are they asking for this alliance because they hope to learn from the Borg new ways to try and defeat us?”

Jason sighed. It was all he could do, as he had no answers. “I wish I knew,” he said as silence reigned. “I wish any of us knew.” He looked out the window, locking eyes with Commodore Valdrin briefly as his gaze drew back across the room. “But,” he continued, “if I were a betting man, my money would be on their being invaded.”

Both the ambassador and the commodore stared at him as if he had suddenly become a Founder himself. When he didn’t go on, Valdrin told him bluntly “Would you care to elaborate, or do I need to order you to do so?”

Jason started, snapping out of his thoughts. “Oh, I’m sorry, Commodore,” he apologized. “It’s a simple deduction, and I’m fairly certain that not even a Vulcan could challenge the logic.”

He picked up a padd nearby. On it were some classified reports on the state of the quadrant as a whole, most of which he didn’t have clearance for, but he had been given temporary clearance as he worked on the negotiations. After looking down to ensure that he had everything correct, he looked back at the two women in front of him.

“If they were looking for ways to defeat us,” he began, “it wouldn’t be too difficult right now. The Klingons are in turmoil, divided against each other over the Khitomer Accords, and Dominion backing of the anti-Federation movement would help them to take over the government, and give the Dominion an ally in any war against us. The Cardassians and the Romulans are still out for revenge against us for the General War, and while they may not like having the Klingons on their side, they’d live with it for the chance to take us out. While we might have been able to stand up to that for a brief period of time a year or two ago, there is no doubt that we are not at full strength right now, what with planets leaving left and right. No, we aren’t their target.” He paused, and then turned to look at Tralna.

“However, if they’re facing the Borg, we are the perfect allies for them. We stood up against repeated Borg offensives thirty years ago, one of our ships even made it straight through Borg space without any support back then, and we also successfully repulsed a new Borg invasion just a year ago. If the Borg have now decided to try and take over Dominion space, they could use all the help they could get, and since we have defeated them several times, we are the logical choice. We could teach them tactics and formations to use, and who knows how many other tips and tricks we’ve learned over the years that they have no clue about. They want us to help them, and it would be in our best interest to do so.”

“Why is that, commander?” Valdrin looked at him skeptically. “If we let the Dominion slug it out with the Borg on their own, then we lose two enemies with one stroke. The Dominion would most likely defeat the Borg, but would be so weak afterwards as to pose no serious threat, if they don’t self-destruct due to insurrection from their subject worlds.”

“With all due respect, Commodore,” Jason said, “that most likely wouldn’t happen. So long as the Dominion kept some of their shipyards and cloning facilities, then they could be back up to full strength in a matter of years, and they would most certainly be able to keep hold of their subjects even with less than half their fleet. No, our best interest lies in helping them to overcome the Borg. If we help them, then they will be able to keep more of their fleet, and will be somewhat in our debt. Plus, it will build good relations, and they will see that we are not the war-mongering solids out to destroy them that they think we are.”

Tralna cleared her throat, and both Jason and Valdrin fell silent. “Thank you both for your insight,” she said. “I believe that I must agree with you, commander, on this point, but I have an idea for getting proof of it.” She outlined her plan, and neither Jason nor Commodore Valdrin could argue with it. It was a good, solid plan, and would at least offer some sort of proof of whether or not their assumptions were valid. If it works, he thought.

Tralna walked into the conference room a few days later to find that Volan already in the room. “Ah, Ambassador,” he said, polite as ever, “shall we get down to business, then?” She nodded and sat down at her end of the table, mirroring him as he did the same. “I believe that we have covered almost every detail, have we not?”

“Yes, I do believe so,” she said just as diplomatically as he. “We’ve covered officer exchanges, ambassadors to each power, respect of territory, as well as exploratory missions in both quadrants.” She looked up from her padds, effecting as disinterested a look as she could, letting it share her face with the diplomatic expression she always wore. “Exact timing of each portion of the exchanges will be decided by Star Fleet and your own fleet coordinators at another time, but we do still have one issue we haven’t worked out, don’t we?”

“Yes, we do,” Volan agreed. “The matter of technology exchange.” He looked down at the stack of padds, hunting as he talked. “Have you made up your mind on whether you wish to trade the information on the Borg?”

“Yes, I have,” she said, picking up the padd she’d brought in. The one with my plan outline, she thought. The plan which is working thus far, even though it’s barely on step one. She shoved her optimism aside and continued with the work at hand. “I have consulted with our best minds, and we all agree that we cannot trade you that information.” The diplomatic façade the Vorta wore shattered, but he resumed it a fraction of a second later. “We have decided that, while trust is an operative word in any alliance negotiation, this information on the Borg is too dangerous to be in anyone’s hands, even our own. So we decided to destroy it all.”

“But-” the Vorta began. He caught himself, and took a moment to compose himself before continuing. “But surely we could obtain some of it? Even just the schematics would keep our few scientists busy for ages.” She could tell that her plan was working. He was getting desperate, which was always a bad position for anyone to bargain from.

“Well,” she said, assuming an air of acquiescence, “if you would inform us as what you need them for, we might be more than happy to give them to you. Without that knowledge…” She let the sentence hang, as he knew the likely answer to that question.

He looked back down to the stack of padds, hunting through them. Whether he was looking for orders pertaining to situations like this, or just trying to buy time to think, she didn’t know. He came back up with one, studied it for a moment, and then redeposited it back on the stack. “Very well,” he sighed. “I was under orders not to tell you this unless it became absolutely necessary, but in my judgment it has.

“Approximately one year ago,” he began, “Carrier 78-B59 came under attack by a strange, wedge-shaped vessel. Before the attack began, it played a message which I am sure you are all too familiar with. They identified themselves as the Borg, and ordered the ship to surrender for assimilation. The Carrier, being staffed by good Jem’Hadar, initiated an attack that did little or no damage, while launching the attack ships it carried. The combined attacks of all our ships managed to get the enemy’s shields down to approximately twenty-five percent before our vessels were all destroyed. They assimilated over a hundred Jem’Hadar and three Vorta.”

He took a deep breath before continuing. “Since then, our fleets have managed more success in attacks by the Borg, but still they continue to come. They are assimilating entire worlds. Over a quarter of our shipyards have been assimilated. We managed to destroy our cloning facilities before the assimilation process was complete on them, but a third of our Jem’Hadar production capability is gone.” He looked back up to Tralna, looking more like a man who had just been sentenced to death than a diplomat. “Ambassador, unless my people get that information on the Borg, their ships, their tactics, then Madame Ambassador, we are doomed.”

Tralna smiled. Jason had been right after all. “Very well, Mr. Volan. You will have this information.” She stopped briefly for effect. “All of it, including information on the assimilation process.” She saw the joy flicker across his face. She chuckled briefly. “The fewer assimilated Jem’Hadar we see, the happier the entire Alpha Quadrant will be.”

He chuckled, but not for long. “As will the Gamma Quadrant, Ambassador,” he said, serious once more. “As will we.” Volan stood and walked down the length of the table. Tralna stood as he passed the midpoint, and met him not far from her chair. “We thank you, and all the Federation through you. With a strong ally like you at our back, no one need fear the Borg ever again. Not the Founders, not the peoples of the Gamma Quadrant, and not the peoples of the Alpha Quadrant.”

Tralna nodded her thanks to the Vorta. “While we share your optimism,” she said, “long experience has shown us that without constant vigilance to the Borg threat, no one shall ever be truly safe from them.”

A few days afterwards, Jason, decked out in full dress whites, stood with his senior staff and the staffs of what seemed like every senior admiral at Star Fleet Command, and quite a few of the more famous fleet commanders and even a few of the very famous captains, waiting for the signing ceremony. More than a few of the diplomats from the Federation Council had also made it out for the signing, and their staffs mingled somewhat with their military counterparts, but for the most part kept to themselves. They also kept the Star Fleet crews between them and the Jem’Hadar.

The Jem’Hadar soldiers, though fewer in number and more aloof in style, were also present. Despite the new alliance which had just come down, no one on either side truly trusted the other. But the revelations of that last day of negotiation allowed a measure of tolerance between the two powers, as they both had a common enemy.

“Do you think we’ll be able to help them defeat the Borg?” a lieutenant commander asked him. “Seems to me we defeated them more by luck than anything else last time,” the man said.

“I don’t know, but if anyone has the manpower and ships to do it, it would be the Dominion,” Jason replied. He was about to go on, but the Tralna was clinking on a glass, to get everyone’s attention. “Time to start,” he said, and turned to watch.

“Thank you all for coming,” she said, forcefields helping to amplify her already powerful voice over the crowded hall. “What we are all witnessing here is a new era for both of our peoples, as powerful a moment as the Khitomer Accords were in the latter portion of the 23rd Century. There, the Federation was able to turn one of its most bitter enemies, the Klingon Empire, into an ally, which to this day has been one of our most loyal ones. However, we cannot keep looking to the past. The time has come to turn towards the future.

“The basis of our existence has always been to spread peace. We do this through first contacts, helping to protect and nurture new interstellar species into the family of planets. We do this through settling peace between warring worlds, and then fostering the ensuing relationship. And we do this through turning our enemies into allies. We fought the Dominion in both of our most bloody wars, but in the end, what we fought for, what we paid for with the blood of so many brave and courageous men and women, was not to utterly destroy this enemy, to strip him of everything he had and lay him bare to the wolves, but to foster peace, and to show that that is all we have ever intended. And now that intent has come to fruition. We have shown, my friends, that wherever war has made a wound, peace can heal it. We shall continue forward, and we shall do it together.”

She stepped down from the platform, and waved to let Volan come forward to speak. He declined, however. Jason couldn’t understand why, but let it pass. The Vorta may not be totally comfortable in front of people, he thought, or maybe he just thinks she said it all. Either way, he waved her forward to the table containing the treaty documents. Of course, the official records were all electronic, and had been signed an hour or so previous, but tradition held, despite the need for it being long since past. They picked up the pens in front of them, signed their names on the appropriate lines, and then swapped documents, and signed again. A shake of the hand, and it was done. Applause rang out from every single person.

As the ceremony broke up and people went out to celebrate, Jason made his way up to Ambassador Tralna. They exchanged pleasantries for a moment, but then she asked him seriously, “So, Commander, what comes next?”

He thought for a moment. “Well, for now I guess we’ll exchange officers and information, and help the Dominion defeat the Borg. After that, who knows? Possibly a lasting peace, possibly one that will break in a decade or two. But that won’t matter at first, as we have bigger fish to fry than each other.” But then he smiled. “But first, I do believe that there is a party in one of the other wardrooms.” He extended his arm to her. She took it, and they walked off together. The treaty may not have solved all of the problems concerning the Dominion, but for now, peace ruled. That was enough for Jason.