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 all of the Coalition delegates and their support staffs–was conspicuously visible on the lapel of the prime minister’s smartly tailored navy blue jacket.

“We’ve gathered here again, in the same chamber where we began our initial discussions months ago, to demonstrate that recent events have made the governments of five worlds more determined than ever to forge a peaceful interstellar community. Allow me to introduce Ambassador Anlenthoris ch’Vhendreni of Andoria; Ambassador Lekev of Coridan; Ambassador Gora bim Gral of Tellar; Ambassador Soval, Ambassador L’Nel, and Ambassador Solkar of Vulcan; and Interior Minister Haroun al‑Rashid of Earth.”

Samuels paused briefly after each name, giving the diplomats sufficient time to rise from their seats and offer respectful nods or bows to the onlookers and journalists. Minister al‑Rashid was a picture of quiet competence in a black suit that emphasized his dark, intelligent eyes. The Vulcans were resplendent in their dusky, bejeweled formal robes, each of them a study in dignity and poise, while the Andorian and Tellarite envoys, each flanked by a pair of junior functionaries, struck a much more martial impression in ornate formal dress based on the military attire of their respective worlds.

Coridanite Ambassador Lekev wore a much simpler, formfitting suit, dominated by his people’s traditional diplomatic mask. Lekev’s face was covered in a metallic material shaped into the stark features of a humanoid skull, while overlapping bands of chitinous, lobster‑colored fabric wrapped his cranium, giving him a faintly crustacean appearance. Unmasked, Coridanites were visually distinguishable from humans only by their prominent nasal ridges and raised forehead striations. When masked, however, they appeared even more alien than either the dour, blue‑skinned Andorians or the hirsute, porcine, and often obstreperous Tellarites.

Archer suppressed an ironic grin when he saw that Ambassador Gral of Tellar and Ambassador Anlenthoris ch’Vhendreni of Andoria–the latter being better known simply as Thoris–both appeared far more ill at ease in the presence of the masked Coridanite than they were with each other. This is going to be a long journey,Archer reminded himself. Maybe the only way it can get started is with baby steps.

“Let me begin by publicly announcing the resolution of a major negotiating impasse,” Samuels continued, his enthusiasm escalating audibly as he played to the press. “The governments of Tellar and Coridan have at last reached an accord over the controversial issue of trade sanctions against the Orion Syndicate…”

Once Samuels finally concluded his nearly ninety‑minute presentation, Archer understood that Doctor Phlox had been absolutely right about the necessity for Samuels’ “dog and pony show.” After all of the principal delegates had taken their respective turns at the lectern, public faith in the coming Coalition Compact–Samuels had renewed his pledge to have the document’s final draft ready for its official signing within six weeks–had to be on the rise, especially if the reaction of Archer’s own crew was any indication. The captain had noticed that all of his people had stood enthralled throughout the proceedings, including Malcolm, who rarely took the words of political figures at face value and sometimes tended to fidget when not kept intensely focused on some urgent tactics‑related shipboard task or other. Archer could see clearly that all of his people were overwhelmed by the historical significance of this day.

The Coalition of Planets was transforming from dream to reality, right before everyone’s eyes. In a matter of mere weeks, the nascent alliance treaty already known across the sector and beyond as the Coalition Compact would become interstellar law, binding five sovereign worlds together inextricably in common, peaceful purpose.

Admiral Forrest would have loved to see this.Archer couldn’t help recalling his late superior officer, the man who had sponsored his captaincy and had defended it from the beginning, through rough and smooth times. Forrest had died more than six months ago in a terror attack carried out by an aggressive and xenophobic Vulcan official named V’Las, a man cut from the same cloth as Terra Prime’s John Frederick Paxton.

Leaning toward Hoshi, who stood between Phlox and Reed and Mayweather, Archer said, “So how does it feel to be an up‑close eyewitness to history, Hoshi?”

She replied quietly after a lengthy and uncharacteristically tongue‑tied pause. “It’s kind of embarrassing for a linguist to have to admit this, sir, but I don’t think I quite have the right words for it.”

“I know exactly how you feel,” Archer replied with a chuckle. Gesturing toward the new translator unit that hung from the lanyard encircling his collar, he added. “But thanks to you, all the delegates didhave the right words.”

Archer watched the assembled diplomats as they stood around the open circle formed by the conference tables, accepting congratulations and handshakes–or respectful gestures, in the case of the standoffish Vulcans, whose touch‑telepathic abilities made them understandably disinclined to allow physical contact–from the Starfleet brass, Earth government officials, and other assorted notables. And it all took place before the all‑seeing electronic eyes of the media, who were even now spreading the day’s words and images throughout the sector and beyond.

In spite of his hopes for the future, Archer couldn’t help but wonder how many other outlying civilizations would take the news being made here today as a reason to become as paranoid as the Xindi had been.

Now who’s being paranoid?Archer thought, trying to force himself to relax.

Malcolm leaned down to speak sotto voceinto Archer’s ear. “Is it just me, or was Ambassador Lekev going out of his way to point out every small nit in the fine print?”

Archer had harbored similar unvoiced thoughts during the presentation, though he wondered if he hadn’t been singling Lekev out for unusual scrutiny because of the decidedly inhuman aspect presented by the ambassador’s mask.

“Maybe we’ve all got to learn to look past masks, Malcolm,” Archer said, eager to give the Coridanites the benefit of the doubt.