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Sorehl

Preface

Having selected Commander Brown as the continuing chair for their discussions, the others in the conference room took their seats around the table. Sorehl opted to speak first. “If I may, I would like to propose a preface and a potential agenda for our first round of discussions,” he motioned.

 

“I can second that,” the captain added.

 

Joy and Brown nodded their assent, settling into their chairs.

 

Remaining seated, the Vulcan commissioner commenced. “Although I have yet to conclude my formal report, the captain has been most prescient in anticipating the nature of my recommendation to the Security Council.”

 

“As you know, I have gathered information from a wide range of sources regarding the nature and success of Aegis’ mission,” he summarized. “Regardless of whether their combined perception is valid, I believe if Aegis does not expand its role beyond that of military overseer, shifts in the political environment within the Federation will result in the cessation of its mission at Cardassia Prime.”

 

Muon nodded. As she had put it earlier, if they couldn’t learn to play together, they’d all be going home.

 

Sorehl went on. “When I speak of expanded roles, I refer not only to diplomatic engagement, but also economic and cultural. As others have suggested, there is a reason Aegis was placed here at the center of Cardassian space, rather than monitoring its fringes. We are meant to engage them, not just observe them.”

 

“Ambass…” Muon started, then corrected herself, “I mean, Commissioner, you’re already aware I’ve asked our engineering department to establish an larger diplomatic hub. We’re clearing out a significant portion of the central saucer in Pylon Two to hold embassies, office space, VIP quarters, and conference areas.”

 

Sorehl nodded. “An effort that I believe will emphasize the importance you place on this increased role. Per your earlier communiqué, I believe you have stated the position that provisions of the post-war treaty regarding Aegis remain intact. Although there were some conflicts raised during regrettable periods of martial law, I concur with your assessment. Our focus must be on moving Aegis’ expanded mission forward.”

 

“We wouldn’t be having this meeting otherwise,” Muon noted.

 

“Agreed. Along those lines, I would also recommend that, given the Starfleet nature of this facility, you establish a number of standing orders related to diplomatic personnel on-station.”

 

The captain looked mildly uncomfortable. “Are you sure that’s necessary? I’d like to think we can all follow general guidelines.”

 

“I do not doubt the professionalism of your staff or of visiting personnel,” the Vulcan insisted. “However, my experience with senior diplomats on Camelot Station and Aegis suggests that orders on certain specific topics are essential during off-nominal situations. Lessons learned, if you will.”

 

Across the table, Ambassador Joy looked like she was considering an interjection, but thought better of it. Or perhaps she was merely postponing until Sorehl had finished making his point.

 

The commissioner raised one hand. “I do not wish to dictate such terms,” he noted, “merely to note subject areas you may wish to address. The specific agenda items I recommend are security escorts, freedom of movement, restricted areas, diplomatic immunity, and alert protocols.”

 

He continued. “These are straightforward questions, on which others may wish to weigh in. Do diplomats need or want Starfleet escort? Is their travel to and from the station restricted? Are there areas of the station that are off-limits? How will station security deal with offenders who exercise diplomatic immunity? Where should diplomatic personnel report during an alert status?” He gestured his hand, as if checking off a list suspended in mid-air. “Again, the answers to these questions could be fluid and require discussion, but having a standing order would reduce confusion.”

 

Muon smiled. “I see what you mean. I know I’d like to make the Control Tower open to all diplomats, but during emergencies, that’s another story.” She looked off as if in thought. “There are security considerations we should hammer out, write them down. Yes.”

 

“I would also recommend you consider the establishment of a formal protocol officer. Someone empowered to deal directly with concerns during an emergency or to address those of a particularly insistent individual,” Sorehl looked sidelong toward one of the empty chairs that Drankum would have sat in, as if recalling some incident in his past.

 

Across the table, Joy could no longer contain herself. “I very much share the Commissioner's concerns, though rather than thinking in terms of issuing 'standing orders' might we possibly shift to thinking in terms of making 'polite requests'? Details of how protocol is handled at a particular station can vary, though wandering far from the traditional galactic norms is apt to lead to trouble. Underneath any specific rules, though, there is a basic attitude I'd watch out for. I would rather see everyone dealing with the foreign diplomatic corps making and responding positively to polite requests rather than constantly striving to prove who has the authority to issue orders, and who has the status and immunities to ignore orders. Part of the diplomatic role is protecting the dignity and place of one's nation. Ambassadors will tend to be allergic to another power telling them what they or their nation must do. Try to get used to thinking in terms of 'this for that' or exchanging favors rather than issuing orders."

 

Sorehl tilted his head, finding he was not in agreement. One would not make a polite request to clear the bridge. Standing orders, in his mind, would be used to establish the default position so diplomats could ask for deviations. Nevertheless, he could understand the ambassador's reticence toward such a military term. He opted to bring this up in later discussion, rather than during the agenda-setting portion. None of this was visible in his expression. As usual, he kept his feelings to himself.

 

“Once we have addressed those details, I think we must consider just how to re-open dialogue with the Cardassian government,” he went on instead. “It is doubtful the Castellian himself would be responsive to an initial meeting unless we convince others in his administration of our proactive intent. Captain, you’ve already heard my recommendation that we begin this dialogue by sharing your medical findings and offering assistance in concert.”

 

“As for other routes, I believe Mr. Drankum has already begun to refresh his commercial contacts. My own are limited. I have some influence with Counsilor Tovan Revix, who oversaw the transition of Empok Nor some years ago. We should offer up such names to you, captain, in considering our strategy.”

 

Brown folded his arms. “Standing orders, whether to name a protocol officer, improving contact with Cardassia,” he recounted, as if he’d been keeping notes. “Sounds like we have our work cut out for us.”

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Brown folded his arms. “Standing orders, whether to name a protocol officer, improving contact with Cardassia,” he recounted, as if he’d been keeping notes. “Sounds like we have our work cut out for us.”

 

Joy winced slightly. Yes, there would have to be agreements on how everyone would behave. She just hoped Starfleet wouldn’t cling too tightly to the idea that they were going to dictate, and the rest of the galaxy would respond positively to being dictated to. Admiral Goram, reprised. Still, they were military. The natural order of things was chain of command. Appoint an officer to issue orders, indeed. Problem solved.

 

She thought briefly back to just before the meeting. Ambassador Drankum, stepping out of the lift, laying about with his cane when his security escort crowded him too closely. Security had merely stepped back out of harm’s way. An act of war, with an accredited ambassador using force against the host’s military? An example of diplomatic immunity? The exercise of his Guaranteed Right to freely express his political opinions? A precedent set, for when the Klingon ambassador did much the same with a blade? A demonstration that the usual rules of social interaction did not apply to Q, Holly, or Ambassador Drankum?

 

Glancing down at her tricorder, Joy scanned her notes, checking off several large blocks. Working together, sharing information and nation building seemed to be established in principle, if not in details. Captain Quark's approach to sharing responsibilities was vague, but seemed to be working. Joy grayed out her ideas on that subject.

 

She got to the section in question. Diplomats interacting with security: principles, traps and... well... standing orders. There was too much of it there, and much too soon in the meeting do dump it all in their laps. In fact, it might be interesting to see if the Commissioner had reinvented the same wheel. Instead, Joy scrolled up to the smaller can of worms, downloaded it onto a data chip, and slid the chip across to Commander Brown.

 

“If the chair manages the agenda, Commander, you might put this up at an appropriate time. Pass it around as you like.”

 

If they wanted standing orders...

 

 

Once a foreign power formally establishes an embassy, they essentially have the right to run diplomatic courier ships between that embassy and other sites of diplomatic interest.

 

If there is an emergency, a clear and present danger, it is quite legitimate to route couriers around said danger. This should be done politely, with a brief reason given.

 

If the clear and present danger is right on top of the Aegis, it is legitimate to request flight delays of minutes or hours to clear the emergency.

 

It is far less legitimate to suspend diplomatic traffic over periods of days or weeks. Military organizations should not prevent civilian command authorities from communicating with one another. If we expect other powers to honor the protocols, we must honor them ourselves.

 

If there is a perceived need for a long term shutdown of diplomatic traffic, please consult with the Federation diplomatic corps as soon as the need is perceived. The diplomatic corps may want to deliver the message to the foreign diplomats themselves, in such a way to reduce the considerable political damage.

 

Diplomatic couriers are traditionally small, corvette or scout sized. The purpose built couriers are generally little more than a warp cores with engines attached, built for speed rather than comfort or firepower. While ambassadors might for status purposes arrive on capital ships, these are visiting warships, not couriers, and fall under Starfleet’s purview, rather than the diplomatic corps. Heavily armed ships are generally not given diplomatic privileges, though if a head of state is aboard, and the meeting was arranged in advance, one should assume the privileges are in place.

 

If anyone has an opinion on how to classify Ambassador Drankum’s very large but apparently unarmed luxury barge, I am quite eager to listen.

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DAMN THE PREFACE

BRING ON THE PASTIRES!

An Ambassador Drankum

Profitable Production

Copyright © 2008, Drankum Inc.

 

The Ferengi grunted slightly, immediately attempting to make the gesture appear more like a cough than his resumption of consciousness. He was, after all, a rather busy Ferengi. Yet, every being in the galaxy would be forced to make sacrifices. Drankum was no exception. He now sat in a very uncomfortable chair listening to diplomatic banter.

 

"Didn't I bribe enough people to end all this years ago...", he thought to himself.

 

For today, Drankum himself had made a rather impressive sacrifice by his own standards. In the last two hours, he had missed three massage appointments aboard the Canar's Plunder and his chef would be closing the buffet soon. Ah, the price of maintaining a public image.

 

Glancing at the robotic android passing a document to the child pretending to be the station's executive officer, the Ferengi cleared his throat...in typical fashion...causing whatever discussions were in progress to cease. Some civilizations raised their hands, others yelled and screamed, yet some even shot one another. Drankum cleared his throat, sometimes resorting to banging his cane on the deck repeatedly.

 

Slowly standing, he surveyed the room. The act seemed to, for the briefness of his remarks, wash away the aged womanizing elder and replace him with a stern forceful figure. Privately, in retrospect, the Ferengi would question whether or not the ability to do such a performance was still within him. The fact that it was only made the entire situation...more profitable.

 

"Polite requests, my dear Ambassador, have their place back on the humon's homeworld in the halls of their great councils. I've been there, I've done that and found it to be a complete waste of time. The name Aegis stands throughout this quadrant for power, diplomatic and military," the Ferengi said surveying those at the table. "The fact remains however, this installation is not neutral territory. This facility itself falls under the operational jurisdiction of the Starfleeters, by design and treaty. That makes this place, it's expensive toys and all, a military installation. Each government has an installation here not by demand but by the good graces of the Ferderation, bribery charges not withstanding," Drankum continued, "so those operating this facility have every right to issue orders when it deals with the safety and security of the beings aboard this rotating hotel. Polite requests? I give my massage therapist a polite request."

 

For reasons he didn't exactly comprehend, Drankum raised his cane. "I have to use this because of the very nature of what Aegis means. Polite requests would have resulted in my death. A standing order, provided for my safety and everyone else aboard, is what helped my unprofitable injury to be limited. Standing orders are the terms of our government's acceptance to be here, period. It is no different than the terms of those places on the humon homeworld belonging to other governments. If a planetary distress call is issued and a quarantine is in place, the Starfleeter military has the authority to prevent departures in the interest of the galaxy as a whole."

 

The Ferengi grunted again, pointing his cane at Brown, "The humon child can't give me a polite request. I'd slap him. The clothed female rebel can't give a polite request to a Klingon, it would eat her. We, diplomats, are here at the discretion of our governments and the hos....hispertality....of the those running the place. Of course we don't like being told what to do. But we must know our place, and this isn't a planetary embassy."

 

As abruptly as he had risen, Drankum paused...his composure dropping...and turned to the buffet table. "I'm mourning the loss of my massage...," he whispered as he approached plates.

 

The pastries would never be the same again.

 

~Drankum~

AMBASSADOR (III), Ferengi Liaison

Ferengi Alliance Inc.

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A straight line, Joy thought. She so admired a being who fed her straight lines.

 

“Ambassador, you need not remind me we cannot through inaction allow sentients to come to harm. I know that. It is hardwired to my core. The proposal I just handed Commander Brown contains the phrase ‘clear and present danger.’ When that phrase applies, much that I hold dear -- treaties, rights, laws, constitutions, protocols -- might be properly suspended in the name of the Law of the Sea, the First Law of Robotics, the Sanctity of Life, or whatever the principle is named in a given culture.

 

“But we are here not sworn to seek to suspend the Constitution, and all the rights and legal obligations that come with it, at every opportunity. We are sworn to preserve, protect and defend the Constitution. This means trying to avoid staggering from one state of emergency to another. It means stepping away from a pattern of perpetual conflict and martial law. It means seeking to work together, to share information, to build, to be cooperative, to build a place where civility might be more common than shouted orders.”

 

Joy decided to stop there. She had not touched Drankum at all, she was sure. His values centered on self gratification, not on duty. To communicate with him, she would have to shift out of Federation values, to go to an emotional level, to prod at a point he cared about. She could not do that constructively while her primary message of the moment was centered on civility and avoiding conflict.

 

Which was too bad. Somewhere beneath the clownish facade of greed and sensuality, there should somewhere lurk the remnants of a shrewd businessman. He might be useful if he could be kept awake and focused.

 

But, no. Let him eat pastries. Let his blood sugar levels rise. Let him sleep. In greed he had lived, in greed would he sleep. He would barely be aware that his time was passing.

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INTERRUPTION

An Ambassador Drankum

Profitable Production

Copyright © 2008, Drankum Inc.

 

Drankum looked from the vast collection of pastries not piled on his plate. To interrupt someone while eating was rude, in any culture. To do it to a Ferengi was flat out dangerous.

 

“My robotic female, I do not give a piece of gold for the laws of sea, robotics or whatever else you wish to quote from your databank. I am concerned with interstellar law and policy. Your personal preferences are, honestly, none of my concern. Your government is associated with the humon Federation, mine is not. You may have sworn to uphold the Cerstitution of the Ferderation, but that is a personal decision and one that has no bearing on my government, the Klingens, Romulans or any other non humon wannabe species in the galaxy,” Drankum barked…annoyed that the mourning of his massage was not going according to plan.

 

Grunting and looking back at the table of food, he continued, “Working together is…profitable under most circumstances. However, the fact remains that at certain points there must be a clear leader in a situation.” Drankum raised his head in thought, though did not turn around.

 

“Captain Ears proved to me a long time ago the value of such, Aegis has since only reaffirmed it in his absence. I stand by my remarks. The Ferengi Alliance will not accept anything less than standing orders by the operators of this facility about policy and protocol for any diplomatic representative that is here. To do otherwise is like working with a poorly worded contract. Worthless, time consuming and when it comes down to the latinum…unprofitable,” the Ferengi proclaimed.

 

It was time to continue the attack of the pastries before the clothed humon wannabe robot spoke again.

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Joy thought back to her young sister Ten, when she was still new to the greater galaxy, still harboring doubts as to her own worth and sentience, drowning under Drankum's endless barrage of ethnic slurs and sexual harassment. He hadn't changed that much since then. He might be incapable of changing. That was what he was. The problem was that many in Starfleet participated in it by proxy, enjoyed it, encouraged it. Racism and sexism were not supposed to be part of Starfleet culture, but here it was. When it wasn't directed at their own race or gender, many otherwise respectable officers didn't seem to notice.

 

And Ambassador Drankum seemed to wish to set the level of courtesy for Aegis to his own standard?

 

"Ambassador Drankum, perhaps we have just had different experiences. I believe there is room, even in emergencies, for courtesy and respect. During the lead up to the Breen incursion, Legate Dukor went to the Control Tower to offer Admiral Goram complete control of the local Cardassian fleet. As he told it, he was yelled at for not getting to the Tower and making the offer quickly enough. That moment marked the end of Cardassian diplomatic representation on Aegis. It is far easier to ruin a relationship between peoples than rebuild it.

 

"I would also distinguish between a clear and present danger, which justifies the exercise of emergency powers, and a vague and amorphous threat, which does not. Goram seemed fond of preventing diplomats from doing diplomacy under the pretense of keeping them safe. If I had not insisted upon the traditional right of diplomats to fly their couriers, the MMS Mudd would have been locked to Aegis when the Breen arrived. More of my people would have been left to the tender mercies of Goram's protection. Emergency powers can be over used, and should have their limits.

 

"Now Captain Quark is not Admiral Goram. I don't expect her to reprise his policies or temperament. She has already shown she will take a very different approach to diplomatic relations. Still, if we are to speak of and establish protocols, I would have people here know where I am coming from. I must address the problems confronted by the rest of the diplomatic corps while you were... doing whatever it is that you do. We will be inviting some honorable and courageous people here, with responsibilities to fulfill. They are not apt to take kindly to being treated as infants to be coddled, or as petty underlings to be insulted and harangued."

 

Joy paused, making a second copy of the same data chip she had just handed Commander Brown, and slid it vaguely towards the pile of pastries.

 

"I do not believe that civility and clarity are mutually exclusive, nor that the traditional diplomatic protocols need be abandoned due to any unusually high risk in this area. While the chair should control the agenda, and I am not suggesting this need be next up, please let me know, Ambassador, if you find this too vague for comprehension. I did keep it vague, in that I did not set hard deadlines, or try to set diplomatic corps rights as firmly usurping Starfleet authority under any possible emergency. If you believe firmer wording is required, I am open to it. I have found, however, that meetings like this should set broad frameworks rather than hard rules. Again, feel free to disagree. Just beware of setting hard fixed rules in the close proximity of androids."

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