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Literary Challenge #43 : In Enemies, Find Allies
pwebranflakes
Member Posts: 7,741
WARNING: Possible spoilers ahead!
Hello and welcome to another edition of our writers' challenges! :cool:
Today we start the two-week run of the forty-third Literary Challenge: In Enemies, Find Allies
With the tragic events during the recent conference on Khitomer, there is no time like the present to put history aside to find allies in those who you'd normally not. The danger posed is incredible, and it's time to rise up against the threat that presents itself. But one question remains... who will you ally with and why?
((Feel free to write your entry in the voice of your Romulan Republic character, your Fed/KDF character, or even as a member of the Tal Shiar, or someone completely different. If you choose any of the aforementioned, they do not have to be welcoming or in support of such alliance.))
((Feel free to write your entry in the voice of your Romulan Republic character, your Fed/KDF character, or even as a member of the Tal Shiar, or someone completely different. If you choose any of the aforementioned, they do not have to be welcoming or in support of such alliance.))
This is the writer's thread -- only entries should be made here.
The Discussion Thread can be found HERE.
We also have an Index of previous challenges HERE.
The rules may change from one challenge to another, but I'd like to remind everyone what the base rules are. These may grow as we move on, so also feel free to give feedback!
- Each Challenge will run for two weeks. For 2 weeks we will sticky the challenge and let you make your entry.
- There are no right or wrong entry.
- The background story, questions I ask, and format requested are only to serve as a platform that you can start your writing from. Feel free to change up the back-story or the way you deliver, as long as the entry stays on topic of the original challenge.
- Write as little or as much as you would like.
- Please keep discussion about the entries in the appropriate Discussion Thread.
- In the Discussion Thread, feel free to write what inspired you and what your thoughts on the topic are.
- A few other important reminders:
- Please heed the rest of the forum's rules when submitting your entry! All of them apply to these posts.
- Each poster can have one entry. Feel free to edit your post to fix typos or add/ remove content as you see fit during the next two weeks.
- After two weeks time, the thread will be unstickied, as we move on to the next challenge.
- We'll have two threads: One to post the entries in and one to discuss the entries. **Cross-linking between these two threads is acceptable for these challenges ONLY!!**
Post edited by pwebranflakes on
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There's not much to tell.
I regret that galactic politics are such that I had to turn my back on Captain Ja'rod of the Kang - his support against the Elachi was welcome, and if he was an aggressive, glory-hungry barbarian in our communications, he could no more help that that he could help reeking of bloodwine and spoiled targ meat. That is simply what Klingons are.
Oh, are those sentiments not politically correct these days? My apologies - the Klingon Empire is a worthy ally of the Romulan Republic, and I am delighted that the Proconsul has seen fit to allow some of our people to fight and die at their side. Is that better? Of course.
I heard they are writing an 'opera' about Temer on Qo'nos. A strange thought - Temer, the blunt, plain-spoken man I fought alongside a hero of Klingon song and story. They lionized him at once. Even before I beamed up to the ship Klingon warriors were walking up to me wide-eyed and asking if I was the man who had fought alongside Temer, fought alongside the brave hero who had proved that Romulans could have honor, whose sacrifice had brought about an alliance with the Klingons, and all that sort of talk you expect from those people.
Sacrifice. Sacrifice.
I chose to, let's say, collaborate with the Federation because they extended a hand to us before Temer's sacrifice. Their ambassador was pompous and loud, as most Federation men are, but sincere enough despite that unthinking arrogance that radiated from that loud human good cheer. I had no ill will towards their Admiral T'nae, who I thought had a very Romulan reluctance to ally herself with a long-time enemy, but it was clear Starfleet's wishes were not being followed here.
There's something so enticing about a woman who distrusts you, so hard to find these days among the plain-spoken farmers of the Flotilla...but that is a discussion for another time!
We were speaking of sacrifice.
The Federation extended us a hand for no reason other than that they had one to spare. I find that very foolish of them, but I am not so prideful as to turn away a hand offered to me when I lay low. But the Klingons...the Klingons were something else.
The price of the alliance with the Klingons was Temer's blood. Romulan blood, spent in their name, by a man who had survived the Dominion, Shinzon, Romulus, the battles with the Undine, a man who should have gone to the Elements surrounded by great-grandchildren amid Fire and Earth as was his due as warrior and defender. Instead he died in a flash of heat and light, and what I remember most about what came afterwards was the smell.
During the flight from what had been Romulus, I remember I was called to the scene of a suicide. An engineer had sent a farewell message to a comm channel that was now dust and fire, walked into a weapons locker, and pulled the pin on a plasma grenade. (This was not as dangerous as it may sound - the grenades of those days burned so hot that they destroyed the other weapons within before they could detonate). I was the youngest physician aboard, so I was sent to remove the corpse. The stinking-sweet smell of burnt copper - the smell of Romulan flesh burnt to ash so fine one had to sweep it up with a micro-brush.
It was in my clothes for days afterwards, even after we arrived on Rator. I burned them all afterwards, and wore for a time the tattoos of fire and flame that showed how I mourned all we had lost. And there in that room in Khitomer, I smelled it again.
And the Klingons loved us for it. They wanted more.
No. No, Romulans need not prove our honor, or our courage, or who we are to Klingon, human, or any other species in the Galaxy.
We are Romulan.
Life has a way of throwing things your way that you never imagined would happen. The first of these events was the destruction of the Romulan homeworld in the Hobus supernova. This alone, not one Romulan could ever have imagined. The loss of one's home is a sad thing, but homes can be rebuilt, the loss of one's homeworld is on a whole other level, that is something beyond rebuilding. Losing your world is more than just the loss of a place to call home. It's a loss of your people's history, your accomplishments, and what makes us Romulans who we are.
We were a powerful people once, our power was respected and sometimes feared. Although there are many powers in our corner of the galaxy... not one of them dared to challenge us. Not the mighty Klingon Empire or the Federation. Not even when they were allies did they dare to challenge us. I was raised believing in Romulan superiority. It was drilled into us as we developed into scientists, engineers, warriors, and diplomats. It's funny how fast your beliefs can change. The day I lost Romulus, my belief in our own superiority disappeared. How could anyone expect us to stand up to a supernova? Of course nobody would expect that. But our belief in our superiority somehow made it seem we'd be able to stop even that.
There are only a small percentage of the Romulan people remaining, and as luck would have it we're having a war with ourselves. When we most need to be united, we're fighting each other. I suppose it's unavoidable though. Empress Sela and the Tal Shiar seek to gain power by any means neccesary, that includes toying with Borg technology, as well as seeking alliances with races like the Hirogen and Elachi. The Hirogen who hunt us of the Romulan Republic... the Elachi who kidnap civilians who can't even fight back to use in their disgusting reproductive process. The Tal Shiar, I used to believe they were the Empire's protectors... I now see I was wrong. In order to fight the Tal Shiar and to survive, we of the Republic founded Mol'Rihan, New Romulus on the planet Dewa III. We didn't do it alone though, we had help from our former rivals, the Klingon Defense Force and the Federation.
It's an odd thing to work with the Federation when you were brought up to believe they were to be conquered at some point. I've found however that it's not at all like I thought it would be. They may be peace loving but they have the same distaste for Sela's misdeeds as we do, and have pledged to help us end her Tyranny for good. Not only that but they have the will to go into combat to help us, something you'd expect more of a Klingon. A while back I had run into a Romulan Captain who allied with the KDF instead of the Federation on my former home colony of Virinat. Virinat that was all but destroyed by the Tal Shiar and the Elachi. This Captain told me the Klingons have been hunting down and destroying Tal Shiar ships all over the quandrant. Although we are technically on separate sides of the KDF and Federation war, we both serve our people in countering the efforts of the Tal Shiar, which is reassuring.
D'tan, the leader of the Romulan Republic would like to see the Tal Shiar reunited with the rest of our people. I can't say I'd be against this in most cases. But Sela...Sela can never be with our people again. The last I saw her, her Scimitar was dragged away by Iconians. The Tal shiar with Iconian technology is a scary thought. As much as I'd like to see our people be independent... there's no way we have the resources to counter the Iconians, and that is where I am really glad we have the help we are given. With all that we have to face in the near future... I'm sure we're going to need all the help we can get.
END LOG
The purpose of this log is to explain any actions I have so far taken and will take in the future...
Begin Log:
A lot has happened in just a few decades. The Romulans lost their home, the Federation and Klingons renewed their calls for war. Even in the darkest depths of the Gamma and Delta Quadrants, old foes have begun churning in their domains, looking for new conflicts, But those didn't interest me.. Until my own struggle began...
I should probably start with an explanation, really...
Planet Romulus, steeped in power play and passive aggressive blood-lust... It was there where my people were born. No... Not Romulans or Remans...
Slowly witnessing the Dominion's war on the Federation, The Romulan Senate agreed and swiftly signed a Non Aggression Pact. A pact they used to silently study the ways of the Dominion. Ways... Of cloning. The first direct test was a "failure" but the Senate's clone manipulation continued, even after the betrayal and eventual death of the Picard "Shinzon" clone. Using DNA from other humanoid species the Romulans found a balance for cloning and enhancing their own RNA sequences the result was the Phoenix Project. Monitored and progressed by the Tal Shiar in secret but with the full support of the senate the "Firebird Children" were designed to serve much in the same capacity as the Jem'Hadar of the Dominion. Unlike the Remans the Firebird Children could be cloned, and cloned, and cloned, memories of the previous life passing into a new form, an "improved" form.
The Tal Shiar was well on schedule for the completion of an initial armed force of about one hundred thousand troops when the unthinkable happened... Hobus.
After the Hobus incident Most of the children were lost. All cloning facilities were decimated in system after system that was swept under by Hobus. This made us, the Firebirds, an even more endangered race than either the Romulans or Remans.
I was one of the last children to come to maturation before the Hobus explosion. Given the name Jaiya I soon found myself studying the history of my people and their creators from what decimated data remained. I spent hours and hours in my room on a small Tal Shiar outpost on Virinat. It was there that I also learned I had a skill for repairing things, I made my living repairing weapons, machines, I even fixed a wooden chair once.
And then, even after the attack, I stayed... Slowly trying to repair what little remained, but in my spare time I still studied. Gathering stray logs from Federation and Klingon sources I finally found a worthy surname... Jarok. A name from old Federation reports I read of the defection of Admiral Alidar Jarok. Jarok's "crimes" didn't matter to me. It didn't matter that he had killed hundreds or thousands of people. What mattered to me was that he wanted it all to stop.
Unlike my previous 2 lives I had now seen enough suffering and death to know that the only option for our struggle to end.. was peace. Peace for the Romulans, the Remans. Peace for the remainder of the Firebird Children. Peace for the sons and daughters of clones....
When the time came and again Virinat fell under attack, the Romulans, my friends, began to suffer the wrath of the unknown. With help from D'Tan I survived and lived to reopened a dialogue with the Federation. Some there were thrilled, some suspicious. Who was this... creature.. to speak on behalf of D'Tan, or Romulans at all? Who was she to broker peace?
Still, reluctantly, they accepted. I am grateful to the open minds of the Federation as they, once again, attempt to make peace with the Romulan people. Empress Sela may have control of the Tal Shiar and the majority of the Romulan Military might, or what's left of it, but she does not control the minds or hearts of the Romulan peoples. the Romulans are tired of fear, of subterfuge, of games... After all the heartache the Romulan peoples finally just want peace.
The only way to that peace... is through Jarok's Dream....
Computer, End log and archive.
Temer is dead, and I know not what to make of it. Yet, his sacrifice has secured us what I had thought out of reach - the respect and aid of the Klingon Empire, as well as that of the Federation. It is something I had thought never to see, and yet here we are. Already, D'Tan has commanded crews to New Romulus, to begin construction of a grand capital for our new home. Yet...the events on Khitomer have left a bad taste in my mouth. We have made ourselves beholden to not just one power, but two, and neither will be content to simply let the Republic exist without meddling in our affairs.
While I do not share the same...sentiments toward the Klingons that many of my people do, likely due to my upbringing on a Federation colony and well away from the corrupt tendrils of the Empire, I still cannot say that I relish taking aid from a people so intent on spreading the boundaries of their Empire by force.
Yes. I'm aware of how ridiculous that sounded.
The Federation, though, gives me more pause. While the Klingons are the face I know, the enemy easily understood, the Federation is hardly devoid of deceit and danger. In another life, before the Borg took me, before I was forcibly joined to the Collective, the Federation seemed all too content to stand in the way of legitimate research to further its own interests.
The hand offering friendship at times can be the quickest to stab you in the back. Or, worse...attempt to wrest control for themselves.
Still...I know the Federation. My own mother defected from the Romulan military to aid them, and my father served as a science officer aboard many a Starfleet ship before retiring to Ryaen V. Some of the Republic's own fleet is to be sent to aid our new allies...in whatever way we can. Perhaps, then, it is with the Federation that I can be of most use. I am, after all, a child of two worlds...Romulan and Vulcan. Federation and Empire.
I just hope that our choice to seek their aid does not come back to haunt us.
End Log
After the destruction of the Homeworlds, I wandered. Wandered from planet to planet looking for the remnants of my people and trying to convince myself that I had something to live for.
For a good part of the way, my companion Arrhae was with me. A loyal girl despite her origins as a slave in my House. She had earned the position of hru'hfe (servants manager) under my roof and had served in the position very well. Why she stayed with my House after her sudden elevation to the Senate and the awarding of her own House Name, I will never know. But I am ever indebted to her for her friendship, though now, she is the friend across the field. Politically my enemy, though neither of us could ever fire upon the other.
But I digress.
Word came to us about the rebuilding of Virinat while we were on some out of the way colony that didn't even have a name. The ship that brought the news was on the way there. But, our funds were too low to book passage for us both. So I pushed Arrhae on her way, much against her wishes mind you, but it was the best thing. I would catch up later when I could.
It was several local months before another ship came through. This time it was a battered old Warbird that had probably been in service when I was a boy. It's captain, D'vek, was looking for anyone with ship skills to sign on. Eventually to reach Virinat. There were no better options for me, so I presented myself and my admittedly rusty skills for his approval. D'vek treated me with great respect and brought me aboard to assist with the tactical department. There I served until we completed a long loop checking for other survivors and reached Virinat. At that point, D'vek parked the ship in a stable orbit and the entire crew left for the planet surface.
Most of the rest you already know. We had a few good years. Arrhae was working on her own path there and I left her to it. She would come around now and then to check up on me, but I am not the sort that needs coddling. I tolerated it however. She had long since earned that respect from me. Then the Tal-Shiar showed up with the Elachi vermin and tore the place apart.
Twice! Twice now I had a home torn away. But this time, ahhh, this time an enemy I could reach. In escaping an inevitable second attack, D'vek's old ship became the way out and a way to fight back. So we fought, eventually joining up with the Romulan Republic in hopes of regaining that which we had lost. We wanted our place in the galaxy back.
I would have never, in my youth, been interested in allying with the Klingons. The ships we bought from them from time to time had a tendency to be barely space worthy and took great amounts of labor to become useful at all. But that was then.
When Temer sacrificed himself, the Klingons present showed a side of their race I did not know they had. A deep running current of honor and great respect for valiant sacrifice was not something expected from a people that, to me, were mostly interested in fighting and toasting with bloodwine! Hah! We had all been fooled by a surface cover that the Klingons didn't even consciously create.
The Federation talked much, but did little. Shiguri irritated me every time he spoke. I found myself pulled towards the Klingons, they were not afraid to draw a disruptor when the situation called for it!
Arrhae was not happy with me, she wanted to work with the Federation. So be it, I would not condemn her choice, but I would not be tied down by excessive regulations when the time came to fight the Tal-Shiar!
I fly for the Republic now. My Klingon allies have shown me great strength in their culture and it is something I can respect. They too, have shown me great respect and the Tal-Shiar's days are numbered with hounds such as these following them.
(Character inspired from "The Romulan Way", Diane Duane and Peter Morwood, Pocket Books, 1987)
Tovan sniffed cautiously at his mug. "What is it?"
"Humans call it 'coffee'," Nniol replied. "It's kind of like raktajino, only it's not as strong, and tastes less like warp coolant."
Tovan sipped, made a face, and politely put his mug back on the desk. Nniol drank his, giving every indication of enjoyment.
"You actually like this stuff?" Incredulity was plain in Tovan's voice.
"I picked up a taste for it, back in my vagrant days. Not everybody has raktajino, especially with all the tension on the Klingon borders, but coffee's everyplace. Humans can't seem to settle a world for more than a decade without finding the best places to grow coffee, grapes, and corn - and coffee's the only one they never ferment. I think they want to keep that to help out after they've fermented the other two."
"Well," Tovan replied thoughtfully, "they're hardly alone in that. Look what we were about to do on Virinat."
Nniol grinned. "Fair point. Anyway, I got this because it seems to go well with conversation, and you look like you have something to say."
Tovan fidgeted a bit. "Well, I was kind of wondering - I mean, what with one thing and another..."
"Spit it out, Tovan. We've been friends a lot longer than I've been your commander."
Tovan straightened up and looked his friend in the eye. "I can't for the life of me figure out why you chose what you did. Back at Command, I mean. I would have thought with Hakeev out there, hunting for you in particular, you'd want to find the strongest warriors around as backup."
Nniol smiled. "You don't think I did? I know the Klingons have this whole warrior-race mystique going for them - but we need more than just guns. And let's be honest, the ridgeheads have never been what you might call open-handed with their so-called 'allies'. Orions and Gorn have been working with them for years, but they're still second-class at best. I've heard about the slums in their so-called 'First City', where anybody whose head doesn't look like a relief map of Virinat's Far Mountain range has to take whatever scraps the 'warriors' dole out to them." He sipped at his coffee again. "The Feds, though... certainly, they look weak sometimes, and they're a little too quick to forgive and forget when a war is over - but when they fight, they fight all-out. Before the Organians stopped their fighting back a hundred and fifty years ago or so, they still kept the Klinks from taking any of their worlds, all while still talking about being 'peaceful explorers'. Besides, did you take a look at some of the Starfleet officers around there?"
Tovan nodded. "It looked like open season at the Ra'tleihfi Zoo, only I wasn't sure which were supposed to be the visitors and which the exhibits."
"Should have tried talking to some of them. There was one that caught my eye, a Ferengi captain. Never saw a Ferengi get that high in any service but their own, but there he was, with a Klink first officer, a couple of Andorians, and a Pakled. This was the command crew of a Starfleet cruiser. You follow? When the Feds ally with you, you're just one of the crowd, no better and no worse than anybody else. With the Klinks, if you're not one of them, you're a servant." Nniol's eyes narrowed. "And I am no one's hfai. No Rihannsu soldier should ever be. And before you ask, no Havrannsu, either. Even our cousins of the mines are better than that." He drank from his mug again. "So it seemed like a simple choice. I could choose to ally with the Federation, or serve a foreign Empire. Besides," and he gestured at the uniform he'd requisitioned, "we get these handsome outfits, in the traditional military sizes, too large and too small. Although I would like to know what dha'rudh came up with those idiotic shoulder pieces for rank. Made the Imperial Fleet look downright restrained. Glad they didn't make us wear them."
Tovan chuckled. "Truth, Nniol. So, does this mean you agree with D'Tan about this 'Unification' thing?"
"Unification? With the Vulcans? Elements, no! The Sundering happened for a reason, Tovan. And now, with the chance to have a second Sundering from the devotion to treachery and backstabbing that infected the Tal'Shiar and the Empire, the last thing we need is to tie ourselves down to a bunch of insipid logicians, who wouldn't recognize an honest lust or laugh if it bit their oh-so-tightly-clenched posteriors! We need to reunite ourselves, and bring the Rihannsu back together under a single banner - and not under some half-breed amton'wi-kha who hires aliens to hunt us just so she can grab power, or under spymasters who see nothing wrong with selling their own people to monsters. We need to stand strongly, proudly, honest with our allies, relentless against our enemies, and servants to none! We-- What's so funny?"
Tovan was laughing. "D'Vex was right," he gasped. "Give you an opening about Unification, and you just won't shut up."
Nniol chuckled. "I do go on a bit, don't I? Well, it's important. Oh, and if you're not going to drink that coffee, toss it in the recycler - it's really nasty if it gets cold."
"It is difficult to deal with either of the other major powers in this area of the Galaxy. The antipathy of the Klingons toward us is well-known; we have been allies in the past, but never friends, and more often enemies. Their blood is as hot as ours, and they talk a great deal about their own kind of mnei'sahe, but when it comes to matching words with deeds? The Elements know that we have had our share of corrupt Senators and other traitors, but sometimes it seems one should sooner trust a Ferengi's dabo wheel than a Klingon's oath. And yet they call us untrustworthy.
The Federation... they simply do not understand. The last Federation diplomat I met wanted to be my friend so badly that for a moment I thought he was going to mount my leg. But when you speak of mnei'sahe to them, they just look at you blankly or back away slowly. And then of course there are the Vulcans, who exiled us from our first home, and who now regard us with cold contempt because we have not yet given up such filthy habits as laughing and loving and defecating. We are their shame, everything they thought themselves rid of. I think they would be glad - as much as they feel anything - if those of us who remain went off somewhere to die quietly. As they thought and hoped we would once before."
To think that she had been given this ship as a reward for helping secure an alliance with the Federation and the Klingons - even if all she did was flush out some Tal Shiar intruders and discover their plot to bomb the peace conference. Commander Temer - the man who helped her find a home in the Romulan Republic - did so much more with his sacrifice, which is what had spurred the Klingons into accepting the Alliance.
To be honest, that attitude of the Klingons - needing to see a Romulan sacrifice his life to save one of theirs to see the potential of an Alliance - was one of the primary factors that drove her to personally ally with the Federation. They had been accepting of peace from the get-go, and even though they were diplomats and explorers at heart, she knew from the stories Tieria had told her that they could fight as fiercely as Klingons if provoked.
"Greetings, Miss Takor."
Speaking of Tieria, there he was, standing in her quarters, in his customary black suit with dark-purple trim.
"Hello, Mister Erde," Veleen replied, her eyes narrowed. "Not that I'm not pleased to see you again, but do you mind asking how you got on this ship without being detected?"
"I have my ways," Tieria responded cryptically. "And I must say, I was rather surprised at seeing how far you've come - I was a bit worried when I heard Virinat had been attacked, too, but then when I heard you'd helped save the peace conference at Khitomer, and given a new ship, as well, I had to come and see for myself. Very Impressive, Miss Takor." He seemed to gain an approving look as he looked her over, taking in her new uniform. "And I see you have chosen to ally with Starfleet - a good choice."
"The only choice, in my book," Veleen replied bitterly. "The fact that it took the sacrifice of a good soldier to get the Klingons to agree to an Alliance turned me off from joining them."
"Yes, the Klingons do tend to over-glorify death, don't they?" Tieria remarked. "That said, I am glad you chose Starfleet... and I have a proposition for you."
"A proposition?" Veleen asked quizzically.
"My superiors wish to have someone directly involved in the New Romulan chain of command," Tieria replied. "Someone who can provide us with information on New Romulan policies regarding the Federation... and maybe guide popular opinion in the Federation's favor."
"You want a man on the inside," Veleen realized. "...or a woman, as the case may be," she continued, gesturing to herself.
"Very astute," Tieria remarked. "Yes, we would like you to work with us, help bring the New Romulans and Federation closer together, and work from the shadows to safeguard both."
Veleen nodded. It seemed a decent proposal - she didn't trust the Klingons that much, anyway, and the history between Romulans and Klingons was filled with so much strife that peace between them could easily be broken. Stronger ties with Starfleet would protect the New Romulans for when the alliance with the Klingons finally shattered, and if she could help forge those stronger ties, she would.
"I'll do it," she said. "I owe you a debt for warning me about the Tal Shiar and their new Elachi allies. If it wasn't for that warning, it's possible we might all have been abducted by the Tal Shiar. And I don't trust the Klingons as far as I can throw them, and stronger ties with the Federation will help us be ready for when they turn on us."
Tieria smiled - a very small smile, but still a smile. "Thank you, Miss Takor," he said. "You have made the right choice. I must instruct you never to tell anyone about this, not even your crew - there is a chance they might come to the wrong conclusions."
"Right," Veleen replied. "If I tell anyone, it would most likely be my most trusted friends, or maybe even my lover should I take one."
"That is fine, as long as you swear them to absolute secrecy." Tieria said. "You might ask a few hypothetical questions to see how they would react first, as well."
Veleen nodded, and then Tieria said, "Well, it is probably time I got going. Return to your duties with the Republic, but make sure to ask discreet questions about what your fellow New Romulans think of the Federation and try to guide their thinking in favorable directions. I will be in touch, and do not hesitate to use that comm frequency I gave you if you need help."
"A quick question before you go," Veleen said, causing him to pause. "I know you work for an intelligence agency, and your offer makes me think you're tied to Starfleet, but just who do you work for?"
Tieria smiled that small smile again. "People call us Section 31," he said. "We work from the shadows, protecting the Federation from all threats external and internal that cannot be handled by Starfleet. Basically, we are the people who make sure that the Federation remains the Utopia it has been since its founding... even if we have to work outside of its laws to do so. And now, I must be going. Until we meet again, Miss Takor."
Tieria then vanished, a Federation Transporter whisking him to who-knows-where, leaving Veleen alone in her quarters.
Veleen had heard a few rumors of this 'Section 31' - supposedly, it was the Federation’s answer to the Tal Shiar, even if Starfleet never officially recognized them and most Starfleet Officers decried their actions. They always worked in the best interests of the Federation as a whole, though, which is something that could not have been said about the Tal Shiar. And in this case, the best interests of the Federation would also be good for Veleen's people - her friends, loved ones, and all those she had sworn to protect.
And while part of her wondered if she had just made what Humans called 'A Deal with the Devil', another part of her knew that, if needed, she would make deals with 1,000 Devils if it kept her people safe...
Name and Rank: Ace, Centurion
Full Name: Sa'lvin "Ace" Chernok
Another day, another uneeded sacrifice after the death of Temer, a well-respected Romulan Commander. I knew him well, as he saved my life on more than one occassion, and for that I owed him respect many others showed after his death. He impacted many a new recruit and impacted their lives much like my own. I sat at my desk and thought of how to proceed with this transmission I had to report.
"Computer, take this down. Captain's log..."
Klingons and Starfleet were at each other's throats. It wasn't hard to tell, even for a telepathic and empathic indvidual as myself. The Khitomer confrence had gone well with no imediate confrontation with both the Feds and the Klingons. Though the Tal Shiar was a different story, even when met with civilty they were threatening and provocative. At least the Klingons, with their brutal, pompous, and proud lifestyle, and the Federation with their rigid and steely ways, were at least civil and orderly, even without having a trump card in their hand.
But with the death of Temer and threats at the peace confrence, D'Tan himself asked me to become an ambassador to one of the two sides, as he had asked many other's to do as well. With the bloddy battle that had occured, with the aide of the Kang in battle, and the planet belonging to the Klingons, I choose not to make a choice at the confrence, but rather with the representatives at the Romulan Flotilla.
With the Klingon's warriors and the Federation's supplies, the Republic could become strong once more as it struggled to set up a base on Mol'Rihan, before Sela or her Tal Shiar could supress this new movement.
I choose the Federation as my allies.
While Klingons are honorable warriors and great possible allies, the kindness and spirit ambassador Spock left with the Romulans shows a greater path to freedom. Though that doesn't mean their will not be trouble. The Federation too, like the Klingons or the Tal Shiar, have secrets, corruption, and dangers with in their own borders.
War is coming though, a war that will either consume the galaxy, or reform the lifes of the countless worlds within.
End Log"
********
As I ended the log I sighed and looked out the viewport to the passing stars. "Computer, lock door, and send notice to Tovan that I do not wish to be bothered for the rest of the night-cycle." The computer acknowledged my request and sent a comm to Tovan. "You know Gregs, just because you seem to come in here whenever you or your brother feel like, doesn't necessarily mean I welcome you" I said to the man in the shadowy corner near my door. The alien laughed and set a glass on my desk.
"I owe you a glass of Romulan ale though Sa'lvin" said the Alien Starfleet officer. He resembled a mix of Human and Ocampan , with slight differations to a normal Ocampan's Features.
"Gregs, *sigh* You know I no longer go by that name, not in this.." I trailed off, hoping he didn't understand why. This wasn't the same Gregs Son'aire from the timeline I'm from.
"Oh, you don't know? Well I guess I should tell you 'Ace'. I'm the same Gregs from that other universe, it's one of the few perks of temporal ambassadorship...and being part Ocampan doesn't help...you tend to gain insight on other realities." He chuckled. "Well, you'll learn now that you've sided with the Federation. I know a group of like-minded friends who could use your...seperative view of the world." His badge began to beep, he answered it, then turned back to me. "Well it seems that my time is up my friend, this won't be the last time I contact you, stay well! Oh, and those Thalaron Triggers? Look in Nimbus III, Paradise City" He said cheerfully, leaving a full bottle of ale on my desk as he transported out of the Nausc'ilist
"Huh, to think I once knew you as a friend, it seems you know mor ethan what you are telling me..." But I let that thought pass and ordered the computer to open a channel to helm. "Set course for Nimbus III, the city known as Paradise 'Lost', Ace out." I took the full bottle, and the empty glass next to it, opened it and poured my self a drink. 'To think, I get live my life again, even if it's just a little bit different then last time.'
The Nausc'ilist sped off at top warp to it's new destination. Where no man has dare set foot because of Hassan the Undying...
End Personal Log....
Commander Dylen had been called many things in her relatively short life: domineering as an Orion woman, vicious as a Klingon, single-minded as a Vulcan, calculating as a Ferengi. What she could never be called was sentimental. The young woman had never seen the homeworld, and thus felt no more attachment to it than she did to the base being built below the surface of Narendra V.
Likewise, she had neither felt any particular animosity toward nor familial ties to the Remans. The small group of slaves they kept toiled below the catwalk on which she now stood, wresting her new headquarters from the lifeless rock.
The location of this base was not her choosing. Instead, it was picked by Admiral Sevek, her direct superior and an old warhorse of the Star Empire. In his prime, he waged political warfare against senators and planned traps for Federation agents.
"I want to be able to look out my window and see Narendra III," he said. Unlike her, Sevek was nothing but sentimental. "I never want to forget how in one stroke we managed to destroy a valuable Klingon installation, but also unified them with the Federation."
"Yes, Admiral," Dylen nearly sighed. They'd had this conversation before. She turned away from the workers and rubbed her eyes. It was uncomfortable how bright the lights were in the Reman work areas, a simple but effective trick to keep them in line. One needed all the tricks they could against the Remans. They could be dangerous, but when treated properly, they were quite useful.
Admiral Sevek's lip convulsed in disgust. "Can you believe these kllhe think they deserve their freedom? And they dare to use our own weapons against us?"
This was interesting, she thought, a useful TRIBBLE in the warhorse's armor. "You blame them for what Shinzon did, don't you, Admiral?"
The old man snarled. "If it hadn't been for that bunch, help for the homeworld might not have been...delayed. We would be standing on her hallowed soil right now, instead of hacking through dead planets and begging for handouts."
From the corner of her eye, Dylen saw a centurion approaching. She had to cut this short. No admiral should be seen as vulnerable by one so low. At least not before the opportune moment. "Relax, Admiral. Once we're done here, the talons of the Tal'Shiar will dig deeper and the wings of a new Star Empire will spread wider than ever before." That should work. She turned to the newcomer, "What is it, Centurion?"
"We've just decrypted the burst communication sent to us from D'Tan's flotilla. They've announced the location of the conference: Khitomer."
"Excellent. Send the message and prepare my battleship." She almost smiled. Of course it would be on Khitomer. They were all sentimental fools.
"Ssuj-ha," the centurion nodded, bowed slightly and scuttled off.
Sevek quirked an eyebrow at Dylen, "Shouldn't those have been my orders...Commander?"
"Perhaps, Admiral," she began without taking her eyes from the centurion's back. "But would you rather I follow convention or get things done? Now if you don't mind, sir, I need to see to things on the Val'hannorr."
"That impatience may get you into trouble someday, e'lev." A slick smile oozed across his face as he turned and walked away.
Dylen sniffed derisively as she stalked over to a communications panel. Let him think she was impatient, it would only trap the old fool sooner. And how dare he call her 'my love.' The thought was more than a little repugnant.
She tapped a button on the panel, "Bring me aboard, Subcommander, we have work to do."
II
Dylen sat hunched in her chair on the bridge of the Val'hannorr. Her fingers drummed on the armrests in marked difference to the keening tongues of ionized gases caressing the hull of her massive warbird. She wasn't nervous, but events were moving faster than she'd anticipated. With all of the agendas surrounding her, it was like playing a game of Vulcan kal-toh while everyone around you dumped the t'an from their sets in the middle.
She did not agree with Admiral Sevek's increasingly close ties with the Elachi. Too much familiarity bred weakness and reliance on an alien power. And the Elachi were definitely alien. She'd tried to measure them, to "get into their heads" as the humans might say, but their thought processes and motivations were so confounding it merely gave her a headache.
For the moment, however, the Elachi were useful, both for their bountiful research and the admiral's attachment to them. When the time came to sever the alliance, she would place the blame on the Elachi, giving her a formidable military curtain to disappear behind, and also abandon Sevek, thus prying herself free from the obsolete and ever-watchful admiral. Everything hinged on the events unfolding right now, on Khitomer beyond this gas cloud, events which she could no longer influence without revealing herself.
"I hope you know what you're doing, Commander," Admiral Sevek said menacingly. She did not jump, but she had not heard him come onto the bridge. "Empress Sela, that upstart D'Tan, the animal Ja'Rod, and prominent members of both the Klingon Empire and the Federation... We're wasting an opportunity here."
Dylen allowed herself a smirk, the tiniest upward twitch of her lips, and glanced up at the admiral. "This is a new way of doing business, Admiral, and it will work. It's perfect. There will be no more agents like T'Pel, no more waiting a decade for intelligence reports. By sabotaging our own assassination attempt, we will be able to plant Tal'Shiar agents directly into the Klingon Empire and the Federation ranks. And all it cost us was a few uhlan recruits and a poorly-encoded communiqu?." She watched D'Tan's newest captain flying their warbird alongside Ja'Rod's cruiser, the I.K.S. Kang, and shivered a little in anticipation. "In time, even that one will be working for us, whether they know it or not."
"Captain." One of his men said as he motioned to two figures which just entered the room." Some green bloods entered the room."
Gorvar sniffed deeply and caught their scent. As a Gorn, his sense of smell was just as good as a Klingon. One of them was Romulan, the other?
He looked at the new comers, one of them was a Romulan male obviously but his companion and guessing of the "official" Romulan Republic attire was not. She was a humanoid with round ears. She was as slender as a Romulan female with skin as red as his bloodwine with white spots which covered her eyes like some kind of war paint. Her hair was blue and tied in a tail. In a way she was attractive, although a bit to lithe for his liking compared to his Klingon mate who was in command of the ship in orbit. Before he could speak the two walked over. His crewmen had a hand on his Daqtagh but Gorvar placed his hand on his and shook his head. The crewmember gave a nod and went back to the feasting.
"Jolan Tru." The alien female said with a small bow." I am Centurion Doutra of the Dhelan warbird R.R.W. Spirit of Virinat. This is my Tactical officer and friend Lieutenant Tovan Khev." The Romulan gave a small bow as well, which oddly enough made him look more Vulcan.
"Nuq'nuh ,I am Commander Gorvar of the K't'inga Battle Cruiser IKS Dauntless. An honour to meet you."
"Likewise." Doutra smiled." You are the first person today who has not looked at us suspiciously or threatened us. That includes the Federation."
"You nor your Republic have done me or the Empire any harm. If anything your willingness to fight the Tal Shiar with what little you have is to be commended."
"We had our fair share of run ins with the Tal Shiar, not many of them were peaceful." Tovan said.
"We can share battle songs then." Gorvar chuckled." Tell me, what brings you here?"
"Curiosity." Doutry replied. "We heard the noise your crew made and decided to investigate." He sniffed the air between the two and recognized the scent of a bound couple or people who spend a lot of time together. He thought he saw both wore a ring but he was not sure Romulans shared similar mating rituals as the humans did.
"You have to forgive them, my crew have not set foot on solid ground in a long time or had bloodwine which was not made from a replicator. Have you tried it before?" before either could react Gorvar offered the goblet to the Romulan male. He took it with a small smile and took a sip....before he ran off somewhere. The goblet full to the ground and was thankfully unnoticed by the crew as Tovan left the room in a hurry as he tried to hold the beverage in much to the Gorn's amusement. Gorvar's amusement grew greater when he saw the alien woman even grew a shade redder if that was possible.
"Do not fret, no-one can hold in their first sip of bloodwine. I had a similar experience with your ale back during the Dominion war. My apologies, Romulan ale."
"Those are not needed." Doutra replied, seemingly having recovered." Although I am obviously not Romulan, I see myself as one of them."
"Another thing we have in common." Gorvar smirked." I joined the Empire before most of my people did. The stories I heard and read of the Empire seemed more to my liking to the endless internal squabbling of the Gorn. It took me many years to get where I am now and faced many hardships. But it was worth it, such is the way of the warrior."
"An Klingon soul in a Gorn body." Doutra smiled.
"Agreed." Gorvar chuckled." How did you join the Romulans if I may ask?"
"I was found in an escape pod by a T'Liss warship bound for Virinat. Just me alone in stasis, the doctors couldn't tell for how long I was there. An elderly couple who lost their daughter when Romulus was destroyed took me in and raised me as one of their own. The colony was thankfully quite open minded since several Reman also lived there. When it got attacked..." She stopped speaking. He saw the pain was still to fresh." With every Tal Shiar we slay, there are less who threaten my people. For that I am grateful we at least share a common enemy."
"I am sorry for the loss of your home." he said. Tovan Khev entered the room again, muttering apologies as he went in.
"Thank you." she said." New Romulus is a new start for many of my people. It's for them I hope this conference will go well."
"Knowing your people, I am certain they will." Gorvar replied.
Doutra eyed him with a raised brow."What do you mean by that?"
"Your people have survived hardship before and thrived afterward." Gorvar replied.
"Not this kind of chaos." Khev replied." We lost Romulus and Virinat, every colony we tried to create got attacked by Tal Shiar, Nausicans and so on. The bottomless pit that swallowed Romulus never left us."
"Chaos is not a pit, Lieutenant Khev. Chaos is a ladder. Many who try to climb it fail and never get to try again. The fall breaks them. And some are given a chance to climb but they refuse. They cling to the nostalgia of home or fear immobilized them. Illusions. Only the ladder is real. The climb is all there is."
"So what do you think we should do, Commander Gorvar?" Doutra asked.
The Gorn looked at her with his stern eyes and replied. "Keep climbing."
The dark-haired young woman sits down on the other side of my ready room desk, her face impassive.
"Subcommander T'laihhae, is it?" Her full name is a typical Romulan jaw-breaker. She replies with a minimal nod. She wears no rank badges, and her green and brown clothing barely looks like a military uniform at all. Her bridge crew, from what I've seen of them, are similarly informal - particularly the hulking thug who's her science officer, and the spectral Reman woman at her main engineering station. The Starfleet liaison officer on her ship, a junior lieutenant of a species new to me, looks startlingly out of place in his red tac-division uniform.
"The RRW Octavia has been seconded to us by the Republic for assistance in this mission," I say, for the sake of breaking the silence more than anything. "I gather your people found some evidence...?"
"Yes," she says. Her face is still studiedly blank.
"Nimbus III is... quite a way from the known activity radius of the Tal Shiar," I say. "Are you sure your information is reliable?"
"No," she answers. "But we are as sure as we can be. The Tal Shiar has a long arm, Vice Admiral."
I look pensively over to the viewport, where the dismal grey-brown curve of the "planet of Galactic peace" is visible. It was founded with the best of intentions... but none of the three great powers wanted to give up an economically viable colony world to the peace project, and so this marginally habitable hell-hole was chosen. And the open-door, free trade, no-regulations policy made it, in a very short time, a haven for smugglers and traffickers from all over the quadrant. Today, the place is a running sore. I've been here before, and I've never enjoyed it.
And chasing up a rumour of forbidden weapons smuggling... is difficult and dangerous enough, without having to deal with my monosyllabic supposed ally here. I glance down at the PADD with her personnel file. "I gather you were close to the Tal Shiar yourself, at one point."
"Imperial military. Not Tal Shiar. Though I admit the distinction grows blurred, sometimes."
"But you've managed to impress D'Tan, since then.... I see you were at the negotiations on Khitomer."
"I was." There is nothing in her eyes; she's as impassive as a Vulcan. Khitomer... sometimes, I think we should give up on Khitomer. The mere mention of peace talks at that place seems to bring all the worst fanatics and assassins out of the woodwork. The next round of negotiations ought to be held somewhere safer and quieter. Nukara Prime, maybe.
"All right," I say. "Well, you've brought this data to us... I guess we have to take it from here. Will the Octavia be remaining in orbit while we send our search team?"
"We will." Abruptly, she stands. "I would advise caution. The Tal Shiar will not leave a weapons depot unguarded. We will assist as required."
I look up at her, at the near-civilian clothes, at that carefully neutral face. I can't work out what wheels are turning inside her head. Is there some way I can get a handle on this woman, find out what motivates her? "I notice," I say, "that you don't have mourning tattoos. So many Romulans seem to wear them, these days... I've seen several of your crew...."
"Yes," she says.
"But you don't... have anyone to mourn?"
Her lips thin, slightly, just for a second. "There is one I would mourn," she says. "But I do not have the right."
And with that, she turns, and stalks out.
---
"I don't know," I mutter. I'm talking to myself, but Bulpli Yulan picks up on it. That's what makes her a good telepath and a good security chief.
"What don't you know, sir?"
"The Romulan. T'laihhae. I just don't know what to make of her." I glance around the transporter room, where my team is making ready. "I can't help thinking she's got some... some sort of angle. But I don't know what it is."
"Her security checks out," says Bulpli. "And D'Tan's people vouch for her. You trust D'Tan, right?"
"Oh, I trust D'Tan." The Romulan leader has made a name for reliability. "I'm not too sure about everyone around him, though. Obisek, for instance. I would trust Obisek... up to a point."
Bulpli smiles. "What point?"
"The point where there was an overt threat to Reman interests. We know he will break any rules to defend his people. And, well, if this supposed weapons cache includes thalaron weapons - well, who do we know who's tried to get his hands on those before?"
"T'laihhae is Romulan, not Reman," Bulpli points out. "Though maybe that makes less of a difference, in the Republic... but is that a bad thing?"
"Probably not." I sigh and scratch my head. "Maybe it's just old prejudices dying hard.... But I want you to keep a weather eye on the Octavia while we're planetside." At least the odds are in my favour if it comes to a fight; the Octavia is a barely-modified Mogai warbird, and King Estmere's firepower should be able to shred her in seconds.
"Keep an eye on the sneaky Roms?"
"Romulans are sneaky. They'll tell you that themselves." I step onto the transporter platform; my team assembles around me. Tactical officers, Lolha and Soledad Kleefisch; engineering support from Thirethequ; science officers, Klerupiru for her cyber-security expertise and Three of Eight with... all the resources a former Borg drone has. Ready for anything. I think. "Energize."
---
We're half the planet away from Paradise City, but this part of Nimbus III is, if anything, worse. A desolate landscape of tumbled rocks, the relic of some past volcanic upheaval; the rocks are scabbed with the tough lichen which is among the planet's highest forms of native life. There is no immediate sign of civilization. I look around, my eyes narrowing, my antennae twitching in the hot, bitter-tasting air. "Are we in the right place?"
"Scanning," Three says, his gravelly voice empty of expression. Beside him, the Ferengi Klerupiru has her tricorder out, too. "Verifying readings," Three continues. "There is a duonetic field in operation."
"It's spoofing some of our sensors," Klerupiru adds. "We're, umm, about three kilometres off our intended landing point... the coordinates the Romulans gave."
I purse my lips in thought. "At least that confirms there's something here.... Well. Our options are, beam back to the ship and try for a better lock... or, just hike overland."
"Without more detailed scans," says Three, "I cannot confirm that we would be able to establish a better transporter fix."
"So we hike," I say. "Which way?"
Three consults his tricorder again, then points. Uphill. Of course, it would be uphill.
It's tough going, too, among the broken rocks, and in that omni-present Nimbus heat. As an Andorian, of course, I'm worst hit by the heat; as the group's leader, equally of course, I have to try not to show it. And it's near midday on this part of the planet, too. A stone turns beneath my boot, and I stagger, swearing under my breath. Then something zings past my face, something moving almost too fast to see, moving with a high-pitched, nearly hypersonic hum.
Thirethequ snarls and slaps one purple hand against his face, setting his keratinous forehead crest rattling. "A murrain upon these pestilential insects!" he says.
"Got that right," Lolha says sourly.
The non-mechanical side of Three's brow furrows in thought. "I will attempt to set up a sonic field to repel the creatures," he says. "I must review the planetary species files." Another buzzing mote flickers through the air nearby.
"Could be worse," I say. "They're not as bad as New Romulus vihranen."
"Ow!" Soledad is rubbing her wrist. "Are you sure about that, sir?"
"I am establishing the sonic field," says Three. A thrumming sound comes from his tricorder, adding an unsettling, bone-jarring feel to the air around us. "These are not a native species," he adds. "I do not have a precise match in my database for them."
"I didn't think there were native flying insects on Nimbus III," says Klerupiru.
"Imported vermin off some space freighter, probably," Lolha mutters.
"We are all safe, medically, are we?" I ask Three.
"Our standard immunizations will protect us from any infections or local toxins," he answers.
Lolha turns on him, her broad Tellarite face turning angry. "You just said these things aren't local!"
"Broad-spectrum immunizations will block just about anything," Klerupiru reassures her. Lolha knows this already, of course, but Tellarites are argumentative, like Romulans are sneaky.
"Let's just keep moving," I say. "The sooner we get this job done, the sooner we get back to the ship." I squint up at the harsh sun in the desolate, cloudless sky. I really wouldn't mind being back on the ship right now.
We resume the trudge up the steep hillside.
---
It's about ten minutes later when Thirethequ collapses. His stumpy legs abruptly fold up beneath him, and he is face down on the ground. I rush towards him, beating the others by a few seconds.
He is still conscious. "Your pardon, noble commander," he says, "for this momentary weakness. Let me but gather my resources, and I shall redouble my unworthy efforts...." His voice trails off. Close up, I can see markings on his mottled purple skin, markings which shouldn't be there.
"Scan him," I order Three, though I already know things are very wrong.
"Body temperature elevated from Jolciot norms," Three rumbles. "Epidermal cell structure degrading, blood oxygenation depressed... I am reading indications of bio-toxicity." A pause. "Not natural. A tailored biological agent."
Those damned insects. Soledad reaches towards Thirethequ, touches his shoulder. "Stay still," she says, reassuringly, "we'll get you back to the ship."
Thirethequ convulses, his stocky body stiffening and shaking, his long arms flailing; a febrile seizure? One arm hits Soledad, and she stumbles, loses her footing, and is suddenly rolling down the hillside. "Stay with him!" I snap at Three as I chase after her. I don't reach her in time. Her head hits a stone with a crack that seems to echo across the hillside, and her body goes limp.
I slap my combadge. "Medical emergency. Toxic biological exposure, and a head injury. Transport us, now!"
There is an agonizing pause, and nothing happens. Then I hear the cool professional voice of Anthi Vihl, my exec - only, even she sounds strained. "There's a jamming field in operation," she says. "We can't get a transporter fix in your vicinity, sir."
The duonetic field Three detected; it must have stepped up a notch. "Prep a medical shuttle with full decon gear," I order. Then I catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye. "Wait. Belay that order!"
Things are moving on the hillside, things that aren't us. Rocks are sliding, rattling down the slope, as black shapes rise out of concealment; automated weapons batteries. Air defence turrets; a dozen of them at least. No way a shuttle will make it safely through a barrage of fire from those. The Romulan was right; this weapons dump wasn't left undefended. "Signal the Octavia," I say, "ask them if they've got any ideas."
"Sir," says Anthi's voice, "we've lost contact with the Octavia - they're no longer on our sensors."
So much for that. I get to my feet, looking down at Soledad's limp form, the trickle of blood coming from her temple, the worrying pallor of her face. I turn to the others. They are coming down the slope, Three and Lolha supporting a still-spasming Thirethequ between them. Klerupiru's expression is anguished as she consults her tricorder.
"We're all infected, aren't we?" I ask. She nods.
Damn.
---
I'm sure my own symptoms are mostly imagination. It's just knowing that I'm infected that makes my skin itch; it's stress and worry - and the wretched heat - that make my ears buzz, my antennae tingle, and my eyes blur.
"Well, our options seem pretty limited," I say. "We can't get a transporter signal through the jamming field, or a shuttle past that defence grid - and, with the sensor jamming, an orbital strike from King Estmere might hit us before it hits the turrets. So, we've got to press on. Get to the weapons dump, find the controls, turn off the defences."
"You make it sound so easy," Lolha mutters. She waves a hand at Soledad and Thirethequ. "What about them?"
Soledad is still unconscious, and Thirethequ is shivering, delirious and incoherent; the bio-toxin seems to have hit him hardest. I think, furiously. "Someone's going to have to stay and take care of them," I say. "Three, you're probably the least affected of us, you've got most medical expertise, and you're probably strong enough to handle Thirethequ if he has another seizure."
"I concur," says Three.
"So you stay with them," I tell him. "Klerupiru, Lolha, you're with me, so let's move. Three, transmit all your data to King Estmere - if you can develop a cure, all well and good." I call that last over my shoulder, already moving up the hill.
"A tall order," Three's voice calls after me, "but I will do my best."
The three of us scramble on up the slope. I check the coordinates on my own tricorder. We are maybe two hundred and fifty metres from the spot where we should have arrived. The slope is lessening; we have to be nearing the top of this hill. That's one small mercy, anyway.
The back of my left hand is itching. I scratch it, and skin comes away under my fingernails. That is not a good sign.
Lolha motions with her hand; I drop down into a crouch. "Something up ahead," she whispers.
More defences. I run through options in my head; it's getting hard to think through the buzzing in my ears. No way to transport equipment through the duonetic field, but I have things in my personal transporter buffer, including a seeker and a support drone... that should be enough. They'll have to be.
I send the seeker on its way. It skims up towards the top of the hill - and there is a snap and a flash of green light, and the drone explodes. Plasma-disruptor fire. Romulan, without a doubt. I spare a second to wonder about my supposed Republic allies....
"Draw them out," I murmur to Lolha, and she nods. Klerupiru has her phaser in her hand. There are spots before my eyes, now... no, it's a row of sores, regularly spaced, along the rims of her huge Ferengi ears. I'm itching all over, starting to shake. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, try to calm myself. I consult my tricorder. The hilltop is broad, and concave; we are approaching the ridge that runs around it, and then there is a dip in the middle. If we get to the ridge, we can hold the high ground... assuming we have the resources to do it. There is movement ahead of us, but the readings aren't clear. Or maybe they are, and the problem's in my vision.
Lolha sidles off to my left, while Klerupiru and I make our way forward, sliding on our bellies across the rocks. Rough stone grates on us, and I'm leaving sticky blue patches of blood and serum where my bare hands touch the rock. This is bad. We reach a massive boulder, and I fumble at my transporter buffer, bringing up the stuff I need....
Lolha stands up, her phaser rifle at her shoulder. She snaps off a bolt, and ducks answering fire from several different directions. Not an automatic system, I think; there are actual people out there. An instant later, my guess is confirmed, as four humanoid figures charge up from the central hollow. Gaudy uniforms, bristling with decorations; Tal Shiar.
My remaining support drone, and my phaser turret, open up on them as soon as they cross into the line of fire.
Two of them fall at once; Klerupiru picks off a third as he turns, startled, to face the new threat. The last one is a heavily armoured officer, but caught in a crossfire between me and Lolha, he drops in seconds. I get to my feet. If this is the only live defence the weapons dump has, we might have a chance. I run for the central hollow -
And I stop. It wasn't the only live defence. Not even close.
---
The Tal Shiar weapons dump... is an actual base, a camp of some kind, mostly subsurface, with only a few protruding subspace aerials, defence turrets, and hatches. But there is a whole squad of troops outside it, now, at least twenty armed soldiers, weapons ready, pointed at me.
One of them steps forward, now; a senior officer, his jewelled harness gleaming, his short cape fluttering in the breeze. He is sleek and poised and impeccably groomed; the picture of a Tal Shiar leader. I wince at the thought of what I must look like, compared to him. He comes towards me, and there is something in his hand.
"A valiant effort, Vice Admiral," he says. "I must admit that you have caused us some... inconvenience. It was desirable for us to have a base of operations on Nimbus III, and this place, we thought, was secluded enough."
"Sorry to have troubled you," I say.
"No matter." He holds up the thing in his hand. It is a medical hypospray, a transparent tube filled with cloudy amber liquid clipped into it. "I imagine you will be happy to assist us in relocating... among other things. Yes, this is an antidote to the highly efficient bio-toxin with which, I see, you are already acquainted. I imagine you would be ready to do a great number of things, in return for this."
There is a blur in my vision; I blink. I say nothing. There is a blur, all right, but not all of it's in my eyes....
"Come now, Vice Admiral," the Tal Shiar leader says. "You are in no condition for protracted negotiations, I do assure you." His eyes narrow for a moment, and he sighs. "And, please, don't try that hoary old trick. There is nothing behind me but my loyal troops."
Then, behind him, orange-white light flares with intolerable brightness and a noise like the end of the world. A finger of fire lances down from the sky and draws a line across the hilltop, and where it passes over those loyal troops, they flare and burn to nothingness in an instant.
I move. Romulans are stronger than Andorians, but surprise and desperation give me an edge. My foot lashes out, kicking him hard enough to imprint his raptor medallions on his chest, and he goes down, hard, his face full of nothing but astonishment. I grab the hypospray.
The phaser shot was enough to decloak the Octavia; the warbird hangs exposed in the sky above us. The defence turrets are opening up on her - but they are designed for shuttles, not to bring down a fully-armed warship. Octavia's shields shrug off their fire, as her phaser arrays slap them into rubble.
The Tal Shiar leader gets to his feet. Then he freezes, as a beam lances down from the Octavia's prow to burn a neat circle, four metres in diameter, around his feet. I feel the heat of it as it wafts past me.
"Very nice shooting, Subcommander T'laihhae," I mutter.
"Thank you, vice Admiral." Both the Tal Shiar leader and I jump as T'laihhae's voice comes from his combadge. "We've taken over their communications net, and we'll have the duonetic field down directly. Ahh - in the meantime, I'd advise against injecting that, until we're sure it's the antidote."
---
Columns of green light sparkle across the hilltop, resolving themselves into the Romulan's scruffily-dressed crew. At that, they probably look better than I do, right now. T'laihhae's hulking science officer lumbers over to scan the hypospray. "Checks out," he says, after a few terrifying seconds. "You'd better take it."
It feels like my face is falling off. The hiss of the hypospray doesn't bring any immediate relief. But knowing my people are safe, now, that does....
T'laihhae herself steps out of a spray of green light. "Sorry for the delay," she says. "It took a little time to hack their remote access codes." She spears the Tal Shiar leader with a coolly contemptuous glance. "Only a little time, Major D'Ersan."
D'Ersan snarls. "Centurion T'laihhae," he says. "Colonel Vorkov would want you to know how disappointed he is in you."
For an instant, T'laihhae's control drops, and her face becomes a mask of sheer fury. "If you ever get the chance," she spits, "tell him how glad I am of that!"
Then she is all urbanity again, as she turns to me and says, "Vice Admiral, the Romulan Republic makes formal request for the custody of this prisoner."
"No!" D'Ersan howls with rage. "We do not recognize the legitimacy of D'Tan's treasonous so-called government."
"Tough," I say. "The Federation does. Take him. With my blessing. Though I suppose we might need to have him extradited back at some point...."
"To stand trial for illegal bio-weapons deployment in a Federation court? Not unreasonable," says T'laihhae. "And I understand you have facilities for the custody of Romulan prisoners - there is an empty cell at Facility 4028, for instance.... Hmm. Perhaps it's better if we take him... and keep him."
I'm in no mood to argue.
---
King Estmere's sickbay is a welcome sight. More welcome still is the sight of Thirethequ sitting up cheerfully in bed, exchanging polysyllables with his fiancee Jeroequene - and Soledad, pale but conscious, in the bed beyond his.
"Hold still," Samantha Beresford mutters, as she applies what feels like another square metre of dressings to my skin.
"I'm almost scared to ask how bad it is," I say.
"Not pretty," Samantha says. "But it's all superficial - standard dermal regeneration will take care of it all, there'll be no permanent damage, no scarring." She glances at the side of my face. "No more scarring."
She picks up a spray applicator and covers my antennae in some medical foam. I bite down hard on a protest.
"Filthy stuff," she says. "Three's internal systems kept it mostly in check, but even he wouldn't have survived more than a couple of days.... It affected the people with the higher metabolic rates first and fastest, of course. That's why it hit Thirethequ so hard."
"why didn't it hit me so badly, then?" I ask. "Andorians have higher metabolisms than Ferengi or Tellarites...."
"True," says Samantha. "But, apparently, some Andorians are just too bone-headed and stubborn to realize when they're seriously ill. Now, hold still, I've got to put some more dressings on. Oh, and you are back in your Mirror Universe uniform for a while, I want as little as possible rubbing on your new skin while it firms up."
I sigh. No point arguing with the doctor while she's in this mood.
---
I still feel ridiculous, though, wearing a short skirt and a skimpy top over my bandages and dressings, the world around me dim and fuzzy because of the covering on my antennae, when I meet T'laihhae at the transporter room later. She is still dressed informally, but she looks a lot more military than I do.
"I just wanted to say thanks," I say, "before you left."
She gives a quick smile, just a fraction of a second's flash. "We will be returning to New Romulus within the hour," she says. "We've already submitted a full manifest of the Tal Shiar base's facilities to Starfleet. In accordance with D'Tan's policies of openness.... Even though we are sneaky Romulans."
"Sometimes," I say, "a bit of Romulan sneakiness comes in handy. How did you get the Octavia down through atmosphere with the battle cloak up?"
"With great care." Another millisecond smile. "I hope you appreciate, now, the need for caution when dealing with the Tal Shiar."
"I do," I say, with feeling. "Also... the need for dealing with them."
T'laihhae nods. "Quite."
There is a brief silence. Then I say, "Should I ask who Colonel Vorkov is?"
"Someone from my past." She pauses, then adds, "He is not important... in himself. If anything, he is... a symbol. And a reminder."
Of something, I guess, she doesn't want to discuss. We are, after all, allies, not friends. Perhaps that might change? Too early to tell.
"One thing he reminds me of, though," she adds, in a soft voice, "is the need... not to let people down."
"Well," I say, "thank you, again. I can't say it's been entirely a pleasure, working with you...."
She actually laughs; it looks and sounds strange, from someone who looks so like a Vulcan. "We must do better, next time." She steps onto the transporter platform. "Energize."
---
Spacedock: 0200 hours
"are you sure sir" You want me at the Khitomer conference? I mean I am grateful, and while I have first contact experience, I'm not sure you need a tactical combat officer there." Captain Foley conveys to Admiral Quinn.
"Foley, while you won't be there for diplomatic reasons, please remember that we need to show strength as well as flexibility. I won't lie to you captain, tensions will be high. If it is any comfort, a ship you are familiar with, the DarkAngel , her crew will be there as well. You will need to be there two days before the conference to get through all the security checks. Quinn out"
---
Khitomer: 1820 hours
"The Klingons do at least know how to make the Federation welcome" Tozra, Foley?s first officer, an Andorian, mutters sarcastically to Ryan.
"Now now, we all have to play nice, although I can't stand these diplomatic uniforms, and I am supposed to meet a Romulan contact, but go figure he's Romulan in punctuality."
Just as Foley finishes his sentence a Romulan transporter beam materializes a man in front of him.
"Good evening Vice Admiral, I am Telak, commander of the Warbird Korvix and representative of the Romulan Republic." Telak extends a hand to Foley.
After a moment of hesitation, Foley returns the handshake. "Please call me captain, I only go by Vice Admiral when I am in trouble" Foley says with a chuckle.
"This is my first officer, Commander Tozra Oshem. Without a doubt I trust her with my life."
Tozra gives a nod to the Romulan?s direction but nothing more. Ryan shoots her a look and starts to walk with Telak.
"What's the human expression, the tension is so thick I could cut it with a knife?" Telak says trying to lighten the mood.
"You'll get no argument from me. But I can't blame anyone. We"re at war with the very people who own this cursed rock, our alliances with the Romulans have only been out of necessity, not desire. No offense but your sneaking around has caused serious trust issues."
Telak stops walking and looks at Foley. "But?"
"...but if we are to overcome any of this, we have to put aside our petty differences. I am a combat officer. I specialize in ground tactical strategies and being damned lucky on a starship, yet even I recognize the importance of peace. I miss exploring without the threat of our neighbors blowing us out of the-"
Just then a combadge chirp interrupts Foley."Captain, Lal here. We are hearing on Klingon chatter that a Romulan shuttle has entered the system."
"That will be Sela" Telak responds with despair.
"Well yes mysterious voice, but they are also detecting residual radiation that wasn't there before, yet the Klingons have ordered everyone to stay out and they will not pursue the matter."
"Well commander, do as they say, but thank you for keeping me informed, Foley out"
"I must investigate. Please keep an eye out for suspicious activity." Telak beams away.
"Quite rude if I say so myself...pointy eared-" Tozra stops as she sees Foley's annoyed expression.
---
Great Hall, Khitomer: 1910 hours
Foley is walking down the hall talking with Tozra when he sees what appears to be a Vulcan tactical officer fiddling with something under a counter.
"Something I can help you with ensign?" Foley asks
The officer quickly stands up, clearly shaken. "N-no sir, thank you sir"
Just as Ryan reaches for his combadge, the ensign pulls a disruptor out of his jacket.
"You should have just let it go human, now you will pay the price for interfering with the Tal Shi-"
Just then he groans as a green glow emerges from behind him and he falls to the ground. Telak is standing there with his disruptor drawn.
"Please secure this hall, I have to make it to the Ambassador." Telak runs off with one of his officers.
"Well you heard him, let's move Toz.? Foley picks up the dead Romulan's disruptor and Tozra pulls a phaser out.
"Where did you get that?!" Foley asks
"Sir with all due respect, I couldn't come down here without it and hope to protect you could I?"
A firefight ensues as Ryan and Tozra get pinned down by two other saboteurs. An explosion is heard in the distance along with yelling. At that moment Foley looks up to see the Tal Shiar operatives beaming up.
---
U.S.S. Artemis, Ready Room: 1143 hours
"I must say captain, that Romulan acted with dignity and honor. I am glad he decided to side with the Federation. Yes I know I of all people I am saying this, but it?s true. Anyways, you should get some sleep, you?re next on duty." Tozra says with a small smile.
"You're right of course. I want you to know you are the finest first officer I have had. I suppose I should turn in." Foley says as he stands up, him and Tozra walk out onto the bridge.
"Goodnight sir" Tozra says as she takes the chair.
Ryan walk to the turbo lift and heads to his quarters. He ignores most of the Gamma shift as he walks silently to his doors. Walking in, he begins to take off his jacket.
"Computer begin log...."
Lt.Jg. Stuart, Chief Science Officer, wobbled unsteady on her heels, staring at the Captain's door, somewhere between knocking and bolting down the hallway. The door opened on it's own, and Stuart could see Captain Collins, sitting at his desk, egulfed in a stack of paperwork.
"Come in Stuart," Collins muttered, not looking up. "Hurry up and tell me what's on your mind. I'm terribly busy right now."
Stuart hesitated, then stepped forward, landing on a space a good three feet away from the desk. "Is it... is it true?"
Collins rolled his eyes upward lazily with a sigh, and gazed at her under thick dark lashes. "Do you mean about that rumor where I own a collection of 372 rubber ducks? Or that the Khitomer Conference was attacked by a group of rogue Tal Shiar?"
Stuart stared, and Collins sighed again.
"It's true."
"Which, sir?"
"Both," Collins winked.
Stuart flushed, then gathered herself and took a pointed step toward him, "What are we going to do sir? The nearest Federation vessels are lightyears away, and..."
"I was thinking a potluck."
"A-a... what?"
Collins stood, stretched his legs, and studied the painting attached to the far wall of his office. "Potlucks are the best ways to make friends, after all. Have you ever been to a potluck, Lieutenant?"
"Um. Yes, yes sir," Stuart replied. And she had, back on Earth, when her family went on long drives through the Iowa cornfields to attend church suppers. She could still smell the home baked cookies, and recall the tart taste of Mrs. Redfield's raspberry dumplings.
"I'll invite the Romulans, Trill, Tal Shiar..."
Stuart blanched at that. "Sir, will all due respect, the Tal Shiar are the ones that started this."
"Then they should get a chance to finish it," shrugged Collins. "I'm not going to blame the large for something done by the few. That's like burning down a tree for producing a few bad apples. And besides," he continued, "It's possible that the Tal Shiar are just as unhappy with this group as we are. Maybe they can even give us insight on the whys and hows of it all."
Stuart nodded, reluctant. "That's very... optimistic of you, sir."
Collins beemed at Stuart. "It's just my humanity shining through."
Stuart couldn't help but smile back.
"Will that be all, Lieutenant?"
"Yes sir," Stuart nodded.
"Dismissed."
Personal Log, T'Mara Praex, Officer Commanding R.R.W. Ventarix.
My crew and I have returned from the conference at Khitomer - a conference between the Republic, the Federation and the Klingons. Needless to say, the Tal Shiar were determined to derail the conference. However, with help from Captain Jar'rod, Hakeev's efforts were foiled. D'Tan has declared the conference a great success, and we have already begun to sow the seeds of friendship with the Federation.
However, no victory is without sacrifice.
End log.
+++ Log Entry Terminated +++
R.R.W. Ventarix
New Romulus
Down in the D'Deridex's crew deck, a small group whispered words of gratitude and respect. They huddled silently for a few moments, then, one-by-one, they slowly dispersed. After a moment, only two figures remained, standing before a bulkhead upon which a muiral had been created. Burnt onto a spare hull plate, disruptor burns inscribed many names. The freshest, the burns still glowing as they began to cool, read a single name;
T'Mara Praex stepped back, holstering her disruptor. She stood alongside Tovan, a longtime friend. They paid their respect silently, and as T'Mara turned to leave, Tovan spoke.
"Captain." he began "What happened...what Temer did..." he struggled to find the words "...he did for all of us. To give us this chance."
T'Mara remained silent for a moment, then, with a swift head movement, motioned for him to follow. They stepped out of the mess hall and into an empty corridor. Not facing him, T'Mara leaned against a bulkhead.
"That's supposed to make me feel better?" she asked, bitterly.
"I guess it didn't." Tovan replied sheepishly
"No, it didn't." she snapped "Temer...was a good man. He didn't deserve an end so grim."
Tovan said nothing in reply. There was nothing he could say. But something was bothering him, and T'Mara could tell - in his voice, and, as she turned, in his face.
"You have something to say, Tovan?" she asked
"Well - Captain - I am concerned with the decision that was made - that you made. D'Tan left it in your hands to decide who we should ally ourselves with. I thought we stood with the Klingons - Elements, we fought alongside Jar'rod! You yourself were rescued from certain death by a Klingon! We know we can trust them!"
"I was rescued by a man exiled from his home for showing true honor!" T'Mara shot back, her raised voice echoing off the walls.
"Exactly. A man of honor. So why? Why throw our lot in with the Federation?" Tovan pressed, the anger in his voice rising to match her own "We know nothing of their intentions!"
She rounded on him.
"What happened at Khitomer might be the catalyst for the rise or fall of this Republic. Who we stand with could determine whether we stand on our own, or become vassals to another. And there are far too few Klingons like Jar'rod and Sorval for me to justify an alliance with them."
Tovan opened his mouth to speak, but T'Mara wasn't finished.
"The Klingons are always in a state of political flux. Once, we were allies. Then, bitter enemies. Almost thirty years ago, we stood together before the Dominion. Yet here we are again, once again uncertain of their ultimate goals." she continued "Yet the Federation has endured. Through it's war with us, with the Dominion, with the Klingons. And even now, they offer to help us. I know not what their intentions are, but I find them to be more sincere than Councilor Woldan. Admiral T'Nae made it perfectly clear that she did not trust us - I can't say I blame her."
"That doesn't answer my question." Tovan replied "I've never - ever -questioned any decision you've made. But here, i'm lost. I can't see your reasoning."
At this, T'Mara's face softened. Her anger subsided, somewhat. She took a moment, then answered.
"I don't know if i've made the right choice. In fifty years, my choice might be the one historians look back on and say 'this is where it all went wrong again.'" she told him "But I have to believe that we've sided with the people most likely to leave us in peace when the dust settles. I can't say that with any certainty for the Klingons. I'm sure if Sorval were here, he'd say the same."
Tovan listened silently to her answer. For a moment, he himself remained silent, contemplating these points. Finally, he looked up from his shoes
"Understood, Captain." he said, adding "And I apologise. I was-"
"Don't." T'Mara told him "It was my fault. I made a decision in the heat of the moment. Something I should have first consulted with my crew - and my friends - on. Temer's death...affected me more than I realised."
"He was a good man. He will be remembered." Tovan assured her
"Yes. He will." she agreed. They shared a moment of silence, before she spoke up. "Come on. Those 'observers' Admiral Walker mentioned will be waiting for us."
Tovan smiled at this, and followed her to the turbolift.
"Engineering." T'Mara stated aloud "Oh, and one more thing."
"Yes, Captain?"
"Don't ever question my decisions in public again."
The last words of either a fool or a hero... Maybe even both. In an effort that marked another turning point in the history of my people. One of maybe too many turning points for the once proud Romulans. This time seemed to mark the start of a civil war, one which D'Tan thinks we can't win alone. To this extent I was called back to the Flotilla with for a first, a diplomatic mission of sorts. It seems that after the attempted bombing of The Khitomer conference people were lining up to get a piece. D'Tan had to assign extra officers to the Communications just to handle the extra calls coming in.
So many people wanting to help build this "New Romulus" of his. Of course all of these... charitable donations included a price, one I feel He was all too willing to pay to make his dreams a reality. Our technology was the price, but it might as well have been our culture or our souls. It was something the Romulans have held close for many years and now D'Tan was letting bits and pieces fall to not only the Federation, but the Klingons as well. Who knows what will happen when both sides of their war begin using Romulan Technology freely. It seems like D'Tan would be allowing some higher ranking Commanders to choose an allegiance of sorts from a list of candidates from both the Federation as well as the Klingon Defense Force.
Lucky for me someone managed to convince him to give each side a single test ship rather than all out access. For me this meant playing watchdog, an alliance of sorts to make sure the technology wasn't being abused or reverse engineered but also that the captain was actually helping the Romulan Republic's cause. I wasn't looking forward to playing babysitter, especially when I had my own priorities, so I couldn't help but pause when he handed me the list of potential candidates. It seemed as though the elements had made my decision long ago.
Enter possibly the one Federation Captain I can tolerate: Captain James Charles Donovan. The Human who managed to pull me out of a tight spot once, the kind of spot that wasn't going to end well for me. The man and his crew were the whole reason I was still myself and not a Tal Shiar lapdog... Granted I've been letting D'Tan treat me as such lately, but at least that would only be until vengeance was mine. It seemed that I was to be his liaison to the Republic as well as He'd be mine to the Federation. It seems Captain Donovan did for Starfleet what D'Tan's been asking of me, being the more controversial missions.
I respect the man, but I refuse to take orders from him or his people, more so if they conflicted with My personal mission. At first I would oversee the teams retrofitting an old Sao Paulo class starship Donovan and I would meet up and go over the modifications as well as walk through the ship and discuss what all had been added. Perhaps D'Tan wasn't as big a fool as I'd thought, the cloaking device was an older model, less combat capable than what even the Klingons are using. The Sao Paulo class was perfect due to it's warp core, more powerful than the standard Matter/Antimatter designs which is just what the Cloaking device needs. While it wouldn't be able to cloak under duress it was less detectable by standard sensors. We did however need to enhance the plasma relays throughout the length of the ship as well as rerouting them through to the weapons systems. This thing would be hard to notice and Burn with the fire of the elements themselves. There was even a small surprise waiting for us one morning, a Prototype Array that would utilize little to no energy off the warp core. I believe Donovan was actually impressed at the initial weapons tests.
As a personal favor to me he let me borrow a few of his former Borg officers to tend to some of the finer repairs of my systems, both ship wise and personally. It's funny I suppose, both my ships and my body are flooded with Borg machines and yet I can't fully repair either. They do well enough on their own, but sometimes it's the finer things that can't seem to fix themselves. Hakeev might have come a long way, but it seems that even he couldn't get it all working right. I suppose I should be lucky really, even as they go about their work I have to wonder "Do they hate me? Am I what they can never be?" I understand that it must be hard on them, The chief Engineer is lovely for a Human, but even she still shows signs of assimilation, the skin, a few visible implants showing. One of his Science officers is still fully assimilated, so working to help someone who doesn't show assimilation on any exterior levels. They don't say much, but I can see it when they're at work, an almost sad expression.
Speaking of which I've caught wind of something strange on the U.S.S. Geist. I never get a full glimpse of it but I've seen it wandering the halls of the ship when I visit. I'd swear it was a person, a maybe a Romulan or a Vulcan as I can barely make out the ears through a mess of hair. The uniform seems like one from a much older time, but all black. I struggle because I can see it without seeing it really. My eyes constantly catch this ghostly visage from the peripherals, yet my optical implants aren't picking up on anything. I've tried chasing this thing down but I can never catch more than just a small hint. Any time I mention this to Donovan or his crew their expressions give way to a hint of truth. Perhaps this is why the man is eager to test a new ship, to get away from the ghosts of his current ship, both figurative and literal.
I'm at a bit of a crossroad of sorts, I respect this Human and our crews work well together, but everything I'm doing stands against everything he's been taught since childhood. Humans and Romulans don't always mix well, and for good reason. I can't lose sight of my destination, yet I can't allow anyone to be in my way, not even this Human. This diplomatic gesture of D'Tan's as already slowed my task but brought with it insight and knowledge, something I could use on this journey. They've shared their knowledge of the Borg technology that shall be my sword and trained me how to keep it sharp. But deeper still I think that maybe I've found someone who can understand what drives me, a possible ally for when I make my move against Hakeev and his masters.
Captain's Log: Stardate 88025.4
Admiral Aveiss has pulled my crew out of the field recently, much to my surprise to give us a new ship, an old Sao Paulo class that's being retrofit with Romulan technology. This was something I know Section 31 has been pulling at for some time now, but it wasn't until a Tal Shiar attack at the Khitomer Conference. The attack changed a lot of people's outlook on things, so D'Tan negotiated a deal for supplies and help and in return would grant a certain level of technology be put into a few ships, one of which was the U.S.S. Shadow, and the higher ranking members of my crew would be test piloting it for a few weeks while the lower staff would enjoy a nice paid vacation.
Overseeing the work on the ship was Vrel T'Sod, a Romulan scientist we liberated from some type of Tal Shiar Laboratory Station a few years back. He had lost both his wife and son to the Tal Shiar only to be driven further into the darkness be Hakeev who experimented on him with Borg assimilation. E'Saul tells me her poor nurse can't be in the same room as T'Sod or else she becomes overwhelmed. Sometimes I don't envy Other species and their gifts.
As both teams continued to refit the ship Vrel was granted access to The Geist as well, obviously not full access, but enough that he seemed to be a regular in the off hours. I would have him over regularly for dinners with the senior staff but had made a personal request of the Boy, Wraith, that he avoid making contact with Commander T'Sod. Some things aboard the Ship aren't the kinds of things the Romulans need to know about just yet. Much to my surprise at one point it seems he had seen what he thought to be some sort of apparition. Something I wasn't expecting of a Romulan scientist, but then again even my own chief medical officer is a woman of faith as well as logic.
I see a lot of myself in him at times, a lot of what I could have been after serving this long in Section 31. I can't help but feel sorry for the man, but at the same time I respect him for all that he has done for his people. Who knows how few could survive so much without going beyond the point of redemption? I haven't been able to tell him yet, but all of the other survivors we pulled from that orbital station never made it. Some of the earlier test subjects didn't make it passed the first year, some of the later survivors couldn't live with the constant pain and disfigurement. He's the only one left aside from possibly Hakeev himself who is now sporting a Borg implant where his eye used to be. Who knows what else he's done to augment himself.
It's been requested that upon finishing the ship we take it out to the Azure Nebula. It seems the Tholians have been taking Romulan ships there before sending them to the other universe. This will be the perfect opportunity to test the stealth modifications made to the U.S.S. Shadow. I honestly look forward to this test run, but also to the possibility of a new ally in Vrel T'Sod, hopefully with any luck I might be able to help take him back from this darkness he's caught up in. I see a lot of potential in the man and I only hope that I can help him realize it before he crosses the point of no return.
by marcusdkane and gulberat
2309--Khitomer Summit II
S'rR's Kane looked about her at the sea of faces: officials, dignitaries, officers and ambassadors, when maybe ten meters away, she saw a familiar face.
"Ael!" she called out, raising her voice above the general burbling of multilingual conversations, and approached the Romulan woman who wore a Starfleet dress uniform.
Hearing her name and turning, Commander Ael t'Kazanak's face lit up as she saw her former roommate approaching, wearing a figure-hugging sleeveless blue bodysuit.
"Siri!" she exclaimed, embracing her old friend. "I wasn't expecting to see you here!"
"I am the Pentaxian ambassador to the Federation," S'rR's pointed out. "This is what I do now. How're you settling in aboard the new Endeavour?"
"Being the executive officer has its perks," Ael admitted. "It's a fine ship; I'll have to give you a tour after the conference, I'm sure Captain Atreides won't mind."
"I'd like that," S'rR's admitted, before dropping her gaze to Ael's rank pips and shaking her head. "I still can't believe you've made commander," she said, proud of her friend's achievement.
Ael laughed.
"You would be a commander too, if you hadn't spent the better part of a decade as a lieutenant, serving as Admiral Kane's attache," she pointed out, before frowning. "I was sorry to hear," she said, before reaching up and tracing a finger over S'rR's' smooth scalp. "You still look beautiful though."
"Thanks, although I have to admit, I'm starting to find a few lines," S'rR's replied with a slightly forced smile. "You, on the other hand, look no different to the day you graduated from the Academy."
Ael tilted her head with a look combining wry amusement with proud satisfaction.
"Just Romulan genetics," she quipped, noticing a blonde haired man approach and stand by her friend. He was tall and well-muscled, and wore the long cerulean coat of the Pentaxian Militia's dress uniform, with a Starfleet comm badge fixed to the chest. His handsome features were a mask of alert disapproval.
"Is everything all right, Ambassador?" the Pentaxian enquired, and S'rR's nodded.
Not far from them was a comparatively shorter human captain with slightly unruly dark brown hair and eyes with a hint of a Eurasian epicanthic fold.
The human was just parting company with a wary, hooded Reman woman in a midnight-blue uniform and her Romulan companion--the latter a rather unconventional-looking man, according to the stylistic sensibilities most common to his race, with long auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail, and the suit worn by many officers of the Romulan Republic taking predominantly rust colors to match. He had the look of someone long since accustomed to shrugging off the stares of those around him. And given the prevalent attitudes towards Remans in the Romulan territories, that was probably a prerequisite for a Romulan man determined to work in such close association with...indeed, as second...to a Reman, and a female one at that.
"I'm sorry about Admiral T'Nae," the captain was saying. "I had no idea she was that...well...with respect, my views do not align with hers." He shook his head, then seemed to scrutinize the Reman woman for a second. The Reman's stony, suspicious features melted briefly into a restrained smile as she focused upon the captain. The human then nodded at the Reman and Romulan in turn. "I hope to see you again, Shalrak...Tovan. I would welcome you."
Following this, the Starfleet human caught sight of the worried look on the Pentaxian's face, and made his way over to the two of them, catching the Ambassador's amused reply.
"Everything is fine, Ahd'r," she replied lightly. "Commander t'Kazanak was my roommate at Starfleet Academy. Ael, this is Ahd'r I'sH'd Sh'nN'rr Ma'Li'S'rn, my security escort."
"A pleasure to meet you, Ahd'r," Ael said.
"Likewise, Commander," I'sH'd replied. "May I introduce you both to Captain Alexei Ivanovich Strannik, commanding officer of the USS Chin'toka. Captain, Ambassador S'rR's Kane of the Pentaxian Dynasty."
"A pleasure to meet you, Captain," S'rR's replied before frowning. "I have the suspicion we may have actually met when I first arrived aboard the previous Endeavour with Marcus...I believe I passed you in the corridor as we left the transporter room."
Strannik scrutinized her in return. He remembered Fleet Captain Kane passing him in the corridor while in orbit of Pentaxia, and recalled the willowy blonde girl who had clung possessively to his arm. He was quite sure he had simply been one of many faces in the crowd, and was surprised at her recollection. "I served in the astrophysics lab aboard the Endeavour," he said, "although that was a long time ago. That's a pretty impressive memory you must--"
Before Strannik could continue his reply, a human waiter approached.
"Excuse me, Ambassador, there is a communique for you in the lobby, if you'll come with me?"
"I have a comm badge; why hasn't it been routed here?" S'rR's replied in confusion.
"If you could just come with me, Ambassador, I'm sure it will make sense," the waiter persisted.
"Is it the Valkyrie?" S'rR's asked. "Captain Palmer is just over there; why hasn't she been summoned as well?"
The waiter's fingers brushed against something on his upper wrist. Captain Strannik suddenly swayed as if about to pass out. Turning his head with what seemed like more effort than ought to be required, the captain locked eyes with I'sH'd. "Ahd'r--" he called, his tone carrying an urgent warning.
"Just come with me," the waiter was insisting in that same second, reaching out to take hold of S'rR's by the upper arm.
Immediately, I'sH'd grabbed the waiter's arm and twisted it painfully back, tilting him off balance.
Panicked, the waiter produced a tanto-style polymer knife from beneath his jacket with his free arm, lashed out, and sliced I'sH'd in the side. The waiter's grip on the blade seemed to falter for an instant, but he shrugged off the apparent pain in his hand and struck again, this time missing altogether as I'sH'd took a step closer. Exerting more pressure and sweeping his leg back, I'sH'd slammed the waiter down on his back. The knife clattered to the floor, the once-honed edge melting and warping beneath the magenta blood. Tempted to draw his sword, but knowing that dead men cannot answer questions, I'sH'd instead slammed his fist into the waiter's jaw, and he lay still.
Captain Strannik wasn't relaxing yet--in fact, he still appeared unnaturally strained, scanning the room as he pulled out his weapon...an act that seemed to come with great physical difficulty.
Then they heard the hiss of another phaser beam--higher pitched than normal, on a kill setting--and a voice shouted:
"Sleipnir! Energize!"
Hearing the scintillating acoustics of a transporter beam, I'sH'd turned, just quickly enough to see S'rR's vanishing in a shimmer of light. Whatever force had been acting against Captain Strannik relented, and he surged forward in a futile attempt to reach the transporter beam and ride it with S'rR's to its destination, but he was a fraction of a second too late.
Reaching up, I'sH'd slapped his comm badge.
"Valkyrie, this is I'sH'd; the Ambassador has just been abducted. Beam me aboard and -"
The sound of an explosion came back over the comm line before the reply from Commander Bellic Chanos.
"We've just taken a direct hit to our engineering hull," said the gravelly voice. "Transporters and warp drive are offline."
"Understood," I'sH'd replied, getting to his feet and experimentally touching the wound beneath his right arm. The blade had glanced off his ribcage, leaving a full-depth incision in his flesh. Painful, but in no way life-threatening.
Amidst the confusion and panicked faces, Captain Strannik stood, now a beacon of deadly, focused calm, and tapped his comm badge.
"Strannik to Chin'toka. Two to beam directly to the bridge. Thraz, I assume there is a ship breaking orbit. Lay in a pursuit course and engage as soon as I'm aboard."
"Aye, sir," I'sH'd heard a voice reply as he felt the first shiver of a transporter.
"Report!"
"We're exceeding our maximum safe rated warp velocity in pursuit of the unidentified Federation vessel," tactical officer ch'Sherrin replied. "But they're pulling ahead of us anyway! Captain, if I may...the ship loosely resembles the Nova class, but it has clearly been extensively re-engineered: quad nacelle configuration, its engine signature is considerably more powerful than normal for the Nova class, and there's no telling what else they've refitted it with. They took the Valkyrie out of commission with a single precisely-targeted shot. Needless to say, they're not squawking any kind of identification." He narrowed his eyes. "Some sort of prototype..."
"Clearly not operating under any sort of official capacity, that's for certain," Strannik growled as he stared at the starfield ahead of them on the viewscreen. "Damn Section 31...if it weren't for the fact that they're carrying a hostage--" He glanced over at I'sH'd, who was clutching his side. The seething anger dissipated from the captain's features, replaced by worry as he turned to face I'sH'd. "Are you all right? You'd better get that wound looked at."
"With a double-layered ribcage, I'm fine," I'sH'd replied. Indeed, Strannik's other senses suggested little change from the 'baseline' he'd taken note of before the kidnapping. "But it would be wise to have a medic seal the wound before I bleed on the deck and burn the carpet..."
"Ohhh." This was a rather musical sound, as Alexei Ivanovich filed away that startling biological fact. He tapped his commbadge. "Dr. Sei, prepare to receive one Pentaxian with a stab wound. Use caution--"
"Their blood is acidic," the Trill physician interrupted. "Thank you, Captain." A note of humor crept into her voice as she added. "As it happens, I read an article about that in the Federation Journal of Xenophysiology. Don't worry, sir; take care of ourselves."
Strannik nodded at thin air as the channel closed. "Ensign Tanhayongpana, please show Ahd'r I'sH'd to Sickbay." he said, addressing the Thai security officer, his accent shifting noticeably as he spoke each name. I'sH'd followed Tanhayongpana, but not without casting a look of piqued interest in Strannik's direction at such unusual vocal versatility.
That, and if the captain wasn't mistaken, concern as well. After all, I'sH'd hadn't been the only one affected by their attacker.
The Chin'toka continued pursuit, though Captain Strannik was beginning to feel the hints of a disconcerting shuddering through the deckplates. He had an unpleasant feeling what sort of call he'd be getting from Commander Temm in a few minutes if that blasted ship ahead of them didn't cut its speed soon...
Sure enough, after another four minutes, the Chin'toka had been forced to drop back to Warp 6 or risk the warp core overheating. It was hardly another five before Ahd'r I'sH'd was back on the bridge--surely over Sei's protestations.
"Captain," he said. "May I speak with you privately?"
"Keep tracking the rogue vessel," Strannik ordered, refusing to dignify the spy-ship with its name. It wasn't as if he would have had any trouble pronouncing it--he simply didn't give a damn. "If it changes course or starts to shake our sensor lock, notify me at once."
"Aye, Captain," ch'Sherrin acknowledged, not lifting his gaze from his console.
As he nodded towards his ready room, Strannik reached out briefly for the surface emotions of I'sH'd's mind: nothing private, but after what had happened down on the planet, he found himself wanting a little forewarning as to the Pentaxian's mental state. The momentary telepathic 'peek' revealed a diamond-hard fury. Not directed towards him--though it was abundantly clear that the ahd'r wanted answers and he wanted them now.
The doors swished shut and I'sH'd's gaze practically sliced into Captain Strannik. "What do you know about the people who have done this? How do you know--with such certainty--that Section 31 is involved?"
As I'sH'd moved, light from a wall lamp momentarily refracted off his tapetum, illuminating his eyes as if with the rage he felt, and Strannik began to understand why some humans found Pentaxians unsettling: at a glance, they appeared similar, but on closer scrutiny, frightening differences became apparent. Claws on each finger that could cut like honed steel, eyes that appeared to glow in the dark, acid for blood--they evoked the imagery often used to represent demons.
As if I'm one to talk, the commander of the Chin'toka thought to himself. Shapeshifter...check. Claws...check. Glows in the dark...check. Capable of draining the life out of a person... His features grew somber.
Check.
If it hadn't been for that brief mind-brush, though, it would've been the Pentaxian's rage that would've worried him the most. With a calming breath, Strannik reminded himself that said fury had not been directed at him--in that regard, he felt only good will from the Pentaxian, but I'sH'd radiated fury at the affront that Section 31 had done to his honor by absconding with the ambassador, feeling the shame more acutely than a Klingon. "You are familiar with Section 31?" he asked as calmly as he could.
"Of course I've heard of them," I'sH'd replied with a snort of amusement. "I appreciate that much of the quadrant views my people as a bunch of culturally-stunted xenophobes, but Pentaxian Intelligence is not just an oxymoron: I was thoroughly briefed on the political machinations of the Federation after being assigned as the ambassador's security escort."
Alexei Ivanovich returned a dark smile of his own. "Apparently they've been doing a poor job of maintaining their cover in recent years; they seem to think people are oblivious to their uniforms and tactics. The better for us, I suppose. As to how I know--well..." This wasn't going to be easy. "I would have suspected it based on that ship out there." He jabbed a finger towards the front of the Chin'toka's bridge--dead ahead.
"But..." He took a steadying breath, folding his hands behind his back and interlacing the fingers. "I also know because of the measures they took to incapacitate me. Very few people know how, let alone have the kind of technology, to do that. I wanted to help you, but--"
"What actually happened? I didn't feel anything..."
"And you wouldn't," he said. "I must ask that you keep this completely confidential, even from the Ambassador. Only a select few on my crew, and even at Starfleet Command, are aware of this. Can you make such a guarantee?"
I'sH'd nodded, so Strannik continued with his confession.
"Although I have taken human appearance, I am not actually human. I belong to..." He considered naming his true species--but couldn't bring himself to do it. The Pentaxian seemed like an honorable man, but Alexei Ivanovich wanted most to be judged by his own merits and faults. Not by the depravity of his biological kin. "A species with strong telekinetic abilities.
"It's not just a 'power', but something that I have to use to aid me with basic mobility. I may not look it now, but my natural musculature isn't as substantial as yours, or a human's. While I am probably stronger than most other members of my species because of the demands I've placed on my body my whole life, I still don't have your kind of strength. Even standing here on my feet, I am supporting myself telekinetically as well as physically."
He walked over to his desk, bringing his hand nearly into contact with a half-full water glass he had sitting there where a human would keep a drink...but it wasn't there for the purpose most of his crew thought.
Cautiously, watching the ahd'r for any signs of an aggressive reaction, Strannik reached out with his mind to the glass, raising it off of the table, then guiding it closer to the center of his body and further away from the Pentaxian officer. He didn't have to accompany his telekinesis with such hand gestures, but he'd found back home that it kept his foster family from being startled by something suddenly moving when by all rights it shouldn't.
He continued to guide the glass as he walked to the shelf in the back of the room, where a large Terran spider plant sat. Allowing the glass to move a bit further away from his hand now, he tilted it quite a bit slower than he usually would have so as not to startle I'sH'd with any sudden motions. Soon the water burbled down into the soil; he could practically hear the plant slurping it up as he admitted to himself that he'd let the poor thing go a little too long without water.
He sat the glass down on the shelf and turned back to face I'sH'd. "The reason the Section 31 agents did what they did to me is that normally, I could have disabled the kidnapper telekinetically. I would not do these things to another person without a very good reason, even when there would be no other witnesses," he assured the ahd'r with a grave tone, "but if I had to, I could shove you into a wall hard enough to knock the wind out of you. Or lift you up and immobilize you in midair. I avoid using my telekinesis in obvious ways in front of people because of my need to pass as human.
"But if I absolutely have to, in an emergency, I will act. I did try to strip that 'waiter's' knife...I'm sorry you were still injured. I normally could've done it--but I was having to focus almost everything I had left, all of my telekinesis, and all of my strength, on staying upright. And...I am not native to this temporal phase, though it's where I live most of my life. The rest of my energy was being spent on staying in phase with you."
I'sH'd hugged his arms about himself as he absorbed what Strannik was telling him. This was not a gesture of self-reassurance, as it would be in a human, but instead, was the formal Pentaxian pose of non-aggression when greeting: hands clear of any belted weapon, claws visible and turned away from the other party.
"You have extended me assistance and friendship, Alexei Ivanovich," he began. "I am grateful for that. Would you permit me an alteration of the room's lighting to test a theory?"
Strannik nodded silently, and I'sH'd addressed nothingness, keeping his gaze directed toward the captain.
"Computer, modify ambient lighting level in this room to the following specifications: Reduce visible light by forty five percent intensity and increase ultraviolet emission by ninety percent."
The lighting changed immediately, taking on an unusual hue which reminded Strannik of the black lights used in venues like Earth Spacedock's Club 47 and even the smaller dance floor recently installed at his fleet's starbase. It reminded him, too, of the characteristics that light took on, according to the perception of his photoreceptors, as he passed back into his native phase. He saw nothing significantly different in himself, though, even though he had nearly all of said photoreceptors activated and was in fact capable of looking at himself without a mirror.
I'sH'd, in the other hand...clearly did see something. Could it be? Could he somehow see the energies flowing across his skin even beneath his shapeshifted human skin and clothing? I'sH'd's fingers bunched against his biceps, gripping the fabric of his sleeves in instinctive reaction, but he made no other motion other than to nod.
"Computer, restore light levels in this room to ship's norm," he said.
"I'm not sure what the purpose of that was," Strannik admitted.
I'sH'd released a slow, steadying breath.
"Do you recall our recent conversation at the Captain's Table where I mentioned my homeworld's transphasic predators? There is seldom warning of their approach, beyond their screeching cries--if they choose to give warning at all. They attack at any time, day or night, but at a particular time of evening, after the first sun has set and the second is low on the horizon, the light shifts, causing them to fluoresce slightly, regardless of if they are in their true form or camouflaged. My people call them d'v'ash't'ya ? hungry spirits.
"You are one of them."
It felt like that awful summons to Commandant Chaxx's office all over again, when he'd first found out he belonged to such a murderous species. And nearly been expelled from the Academy for it. Strannik felt the uncomfortable surge of energy across his skin he always felt when others discussed his true species, each energy node in his body elevating to fight-or-flight levels, yet I'sH'd made no hostile motions, had not even dropped his hands from his sides. The shame Strannik felt, though...
"The Federation calls them--my species--the Devidians. I had no idea...and apparently neither did Starfleet...that there was a world they had singled out that way." He shook his head, bowing it slightly. "That's a terrible way to live. I'm very sorry." How pale those words sounded, compared to what he really felt.
He focused on I'sH'd again. "As for me...it's believed the Devidians intended to gain a foothold on Earth by traveling back in time, perhaps not to just hunt them, but to farm them. The attempt was stopped very early into it, and their records, if they left any behind, were unrecognizable to the science teams that discovered the site. But when their advance scouts were driven away, I was left behind 'unhatched,' for lack of a better term, in a stasis cr?che. Starfleet had had no close encounters with my species at that time I was discovered; they were still unaware of the main temporal incursion. They had no idea what I was, only that I belong to a different phase than theirs.
"I was taken to an interphasic research center in St Petersburg. The scientists there gave me my name, and taught me how to communicate. I am only fluent in Russian and English--two human languages, and I might not even recognize it as speech if a Devidian, or d'v'ash't'ya, as you call them, were to try to communicate vocally with me.
"Once I learned how to control my phase and form, I developed a human appearance and was raised by humans." Alexei Ivanovich pressed a hand to his chest. "This isn't for hunting. Or to take advantage of people in any other way. I consider this a reflection of myself, just as much as my natural form is--and it is also key in communicating in the most meaningful way with the people who raised me...a way where people can accurately read my emotional states, or even know things as simple as whether I'm paying attention to them. I need this in order to make some sort of basic connection.
"And unlike others of my race, I do not take sustenance from other beings--only artificially-generated neural energy." Gentle Katya's awful cry, frantic and betrayed, then fading away to a dreadful nothing...he could never forget. He closed his illusory eyes in shame. "I took a life once, when I was only a few weeks old, before anyone understood what I needed to survive. And I will never, ever do it again, even if it means I starve!" He paused for a second to collect himself. "But I trust you understand why, even having made such a vow, it would be absolutely devastating for this information to become public knowledge."
I'sH'd nodded, and Strannik picked up an unexpected emotion emanating from the Pentaxian officer. Not terror, not disgust, not loathing towards the enemy "spirit"--the d'v'ash't'ya--standing before him. No--it felt more like...compassion. "I do not envy you your existence, Alexei Ivanovich."
"It's not easy sometimes," the Devidian captain admitted. "But...I think of what might have happened if I hadn't been abandoned on Earth. I want so much to say I'd be a better person than them. But it terrifies me to think that I can't make that guarantee. To think of the soulless, remorseless TRIBBLE I could have been." Indeed--a chill ran through him.
"God has had mercy on me," he concluded, crossing himself in the Orthodox manner out of instinct and a prayer.
There was no doubt in I'sH'd's mind now of just how deeply steeped Alexei Ivanovich Strannik was in the culture he had been raised in. What was also apparent was that this lone individual felt the weight of struggling against not just a family member's shame, but the dishonor of his entire race.
"Your decency showed when you thought I might poison myself with that vodka at the Captain's Table," I'sH'd reassured him, "and you intervened. I am proud to call you a friend, whatever species you belong to."
Strannik offered a small smile. "Then please call me Alyosha."
I'sH'd inclined his head in acceptance. "Then tell me, Alyosha, what thoughts do you have on how we can stop that ship and rescue the ambassador?"
They stood together on the bridge as Captain Strannik activated a small holographic table that he had integrated into one of the Chin'toka's rear bridge stations upon taking command. Time was of the essence here, so he kept silent as he typed the commands calling up a display of the Section 31 ship's course, and that of the Chin'toka, which was falling progressively further behind.
Lieutenant ch'Sherrin and Ensign Mirrsh looked on with I'sH'd as the captain raised a finger and traced his desired maneuver into the empty space between the holographic images of each ship; as he did so, the computer would generate an orange trail where his finger had been.
"The only way we're going to be able to catch up with the rogue vessel and pull into firing range long enough to knock them down to a speed we can keep up with is by slipstream. This will take some precision maneuvering, and during our transit it's critical that they don't change course. The only way to ensure that, I believe, is by momentarily convincing them that we've turned back."
Strannik traced a brief line back from the Chin'toka's present course. "That's the first jump. The second slipstream burst will bring us into firing range. I want to emerge at a sharp angle to them, though--from below, and closing at about a 60-degree angle to their present course. We'll be picked up on sensors when we emerge, of course, but most people still aren't accustomed to thinking in a multidimensional way in space combat. That...and the risks of turning at such a high warp factor in such close quarters with another vessel should slow their reaction time and bring them into our forward firing arc before they can turn to bring their strongest weapons to bear on us."
He traced another glowing arc, curving below the Section 31 ship and emerging only a few thousand kilometers away, a distance that would quickly be closed as they re-engaged the warp drive. Ensign Mirrsh stared at the display, clearly troubled. Turning in slipstream was an even more daunting feat than doing so at high warp--but the captain gazed reassuringly into the Saurian helmswoman's eyes. He trusted she could do it.
For I'sH'd, it was something else that caught his attention, and chilled him despite himself. Slipstream- and transwarp-assisted combat tactics were still in their infancy, but the same had even proven true with warp combat: most battles tended to take place in two dimensions, as if at sea. Truly three-dimensional...indeed, multimodal thinking...typically required a combination of rigorous training and instinct.
Instinct. The technique looked so terribly familiar to I'sH'd. Yet here it was, displayed in space this time instead of on the ground, and turned towards benevolent ends--well, towards the ambassador, anyway. He thinks this way with so little effort, and he probably credits a great deal of it to his Academy training. But for all his humanness, this is truly d'v'ash't'ya thinking. D'v'ash't'ya hunting. And he probably doesn't even know it.
Surreal--to stand side-by-side with a d'v'ash't'ya. To converse as men, to go into battle not as predator and prey, but allies in an honorable cause.
"We'll need to immediately open fire upon emergence," Strannik concluded. "We will have only one opportunity to hit them hard enough to force them to slow and engage us. After that...my security teams will all be on standby--both to board them, and to be prepared to repel boarders in case they try to do the same to us." Unspoken was the fact that however much he wanted to help, Strannik himself dared not join the away teams. He and I'sH'd both knew what would surely happen if he did.
"The ambassador is resourceful," I'sH'd said in a tone of what sounded to Captain Strannik like rather...grudging admiration. Why? Alexei Ivanovich wondered. Why the reservation? Could it be the fact that Ambassador Kane had spent most of her career in Starfleet, rather than serving in the Pentaxian Militia? Inter-military rivalry, perhaps, even after the ambassador's separation from the service? "I would not be surprised to find out we will merely be there to collect her after she has already dealt with the ones aboard that ship."
"I would welcome anyone who could conclusively deal with that man." Captain Strannik glared balefully at the viewscreen once more as if he could see into the spy-ship's bridge. Then he strode purposefully down to the command chair, addressing his crew as he walked.
"Take your positions and prepare for the first jump."
S'rR's felt consciousness returning with a sudden intake of breath. She was laying on her back, in what she quickly surmised to be the brig of a starship. Beyond the forcefield, a blonde-haired human male sat in a chair, examining her wrist-strap. As he looked up, S'rR's saw the scar on his cheek, and immediately recognized Franklin Drake.
"You son of a bi--" she began, rolling off the narrow bunk--then she caught sight of her hands and forearms, which were covered in a rubbery black material. Bunching her fists, she began to extend her claws, before feeling a twinge of pain deep in each forearm. "Ow! What have you done to me, you TRIBBLE?!"
"Merely taken precautions," Drake replied calmly. "While you were ? otherwise engaged, I took the liberty of going over your file, and one particular entry reads 'Does not respond well to captivity'. Your hands have been temporarily covered with a nanopolymer coating normally used to make garments stab-proof. It has a tensile strength considerably greater than any force your muscles can generate, so will keep those claws of yours from doing any more harm than they already have."
S'rR's frowned, a vague memory resurfacing, hazy and dreamlike from a mid-resurrection... Hands holding her down while someone put a hypospray to her arm...she had lashed out, driving the ten-inch claws into the sternum of one assailant, and then someone had shot her again with the phaser...
"All right, what do you want?" she asked, standing near the forcefield and folding her arms across her chest as she looked about. "What is this? A Nova-class?" Escape pods at the end of the corridor...
"If you can still call it that," Drake confirmed, rising from his seat. "The Sleipnir is a prototype I've--borrowed from the fleet yards. It is[/] partially a Nova spaceframe, but with quad nacelles to handle the output of a Defiant-class warp core. It has a sustainable cruise velocity of warp nine point nine-nine, and can outrun an Intrepid-class."
"Captain Palmer won't let you get away with this," S'rR's pointed out, but Drake chuckled in a way which made her skin crawl in a way she had not felt since the guards in the Cardassian gulag eyed her while bathing.
"Oh we've taken care of the Valkyrie," he noted. "Nothing permanent, just enough to slow them down long enough that we can have a little chat."
"What do you possibly think I would want to talk to you about? Marcus was right about you; you're slime!"
Drake sighed, and began to pace in front of the forcefield.
"I need your help, Siri. May I call you Siri?"
"No, you may address me as Ambassador Kane," S'rR's replied coldly.
"Very well, Ambassador Kane," Drake acquiesced. "I need your help to create the next generation of Augments to protect the Federation."
"And how do you propose I do that?"
"With your blood--well, your genetic profile, to be less melodramatic," Drake admitted. "I've been going over the medical report Doctor Pfeiffer wrote when you first came aboard the Endeavour. He was very impressed by the way Pentaxian geneticists had partially integrated the Lazarus gene into a Pentaxian ovum.
"I want to use that genetic template to create a new generation of human Augments. As I'm sure you have realized, you weren't hit with a stun setting. Setting five, to be precise, yet within three minutes, your synaptic system had regenerated all the blown nerve endings and thermal damage, re-started your autonomic functions, and revived you. I'm not trying to create a new breed of ?bermensch to over-run the Federation; I just need to create troops who can heal as efficiently as you can for deployment in difficult circumstances. No different to the militia program which created the a'nla sh'ck, which has you as the pinnacle application of that ethos. I would have preferred to have used a sample from a full immortal, but they are so hard to find."
"If you think I'll help you, you are sorely mistaken," S'rR's replied, momentarily turning away from Drake and sitting on the bunk, crossing one leg over the other at the knee in unconscious mimicry of Amanda Palmer. "If you had gone through the proper channels and contacted the Empress, or asked me in a civilized manner, I might have actually considered it. But instead you kidnapped me by force, so the only assistance I will give you is inviting you to go f**k yourself. If you lower this forcefield, it will be the last thing you do. I don't need claws to kill you, and that is exactly what I will do to you or any other hapless minion you send in here with the intent of taking my blood."
Before Drake could respond, the deck shuddered, and a rumble like thunder could be heard.
"Bridge, report!" Drake snapped, addressing the ceiling.
"We're under attack," replied a disembodied voice.
"I thought you crippled the Valkyrie!" Drake exclaimed as the deck shook again.
"We did, sir," replied the voice. "It's not the Valkyrie, it's the Chin'toka!"
"Strannik!" Drake snarled, as another tremor nearly threw him to the deck. Then, all color drained from his face as he saw the forcefield wink out of existence.
At once, S'rR's exploded into action. Launching herself off the bunk in a shallow dive, she heard a phaser beam pass over her shoulder as she tucked into a roll and came smoothly to her feet at Drake's side. In a continuation of the same movement, she swung a leg up, her curled toes smashing into Drake's solar plexus, driving all the air from his lungs and doubling him over. Reaching out, S'rR's cupped her left hand round Drake's chin, turning and tilting his head to face her, ensuring her aim before slamming her right fist into the side of his head, crushing his temple like paper.
Drake collapsed lifelessly to the floor of the brig.
Snatching up the fallen phaser and her wrist-strap, she ran for the door. The corridor was deserted, and she sprinted towards the T-junction, crossing the distance in seconds, and activating the escape pod.
On the bridge of the Chin'toka, Lieutenant ch'Sherrin looked up from his console. "Captain, an escape pod has launched from the Sleipnir and is dropping out of the warp bubble. Life-signs aboard read as Pentaxian."
"I told you she would get herself out if we could get their shields down!" I'sH'd declared.
Strannik nodded. "Indeed you did, my friend, but we cannot allow that ship to escape. Helm, maintain pursuit! Continue to target the primary hull; see if you can get them to drop out of warp."
"Captain, they are dropping out of warp," reported Ensign Mirrsh. "They're coming about and locking weapons on the escape pod!"
"Warning: weapons lock detected," intoned the synthesised voice of the pod's computer.
Oh s**t... S'rR's thought. Expelling all the air from her lungs, she slammed her hand down on the hatch control and squeezed her eyes shut.
There was a massive roar of air, then silence, and an intense burning across her face, scalp and arms as the decompression blew her into vacuum and clear of the pod.
"Alyosha, the Ambassador has ejected into space without a suit!" Thraz exclaimed. "Initiating emergency transport!"
During the brief seconds when their shields cycled, the ship rocked--hard--as one of the enhanced energy weapons from the Sleipnir connected with the primary hull.
Reaching up, Strannik tapped his comm badge.
"Bridge to sickbay, prepare to receive a-"
"We have her already, Captain," came the measured voice of Doctor Sei. "Minimal decompression injuries, but nothing life threatening. I won't have much to do here; I suspect the ambassador will be joining you shortly."
Pentaxian physiology must be pretty impressive to shake off the effects of decompression that quickly, he thought. Then again, she is Admiral Kane's daughter...could it be that she's like him in that way, too? Immortal?
"Keep me informed, Doctor. And be prepared for more casualties from that last hit," Strannik grimly replied before turning to face his tactical officer. "Bridge out."
This was the second time he'd had to put his crew's lives on the line because of Section 31--because of Drake. Even if they were fortunate and no one died this time, he wasn't about to tolerate it again. "Give them everything we've got, Lieutenant."
Ch'Sherrin looked up. "Sir...how far should we go?" This was, at least, in some vague sense a Federation vessel.
Strannik considered destroying the rogue starship. Erasing the menace this beast of a ship represented, and as many Section 31 agents as he could. But something troubled him: was the entire crew indeed aware of what their mission really was, and what cold masters they served? He shook his head as he arrived at his decision.
"Precision strikes--no more torpedoes unless we are in immediate danger of being destroyed. I want them cast adrift with minimal casualties."
"Aye, Captain, firing all phasers." Having hit them once on emergence with their shields down, it didn't take long before the unremitting cannon barrage from the Chin'toka dropped their shields and then fried all but one of the ship's major power couplings--just enough to leave them emergency power, but no more.
"Withdraw from weapons range," the Devidian captain ordered.
Commander th'Valek turned his antennae upon Strannik. "Shall we offer assistance?"
Strannik crossed his arms. "No. Monitor them for the next fifteen minutes to ensure they're stable. If the situation goes critical, or they directly ask us for assistance, we will do so. Otherwise, let Section 31 clean up their own mess. The risk that having those agents aboard our ship presents to this crew is too great, unless there is an absolute need for it."
I'sH'd nodded in agreement. "I agree. It is unlikely that ship's crew are regular Starfleet personnel. To allow them aboard your ship would be tactically unsound. And if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I must attend to the Ambassador."
S'rR's looked up as I'sH'd entered the sickbay, then pulled herself into a sitting position on the biobed, her forearms resting against her raised knees.
"Ambassador," he began. "I have failed in my duty to protect you. I shall make the necessary restitution once we return to the Valkyrie."
"You will do no such thing," S'rR's insisted. "You did all that you could at the conference, and equally have clearly been instrumental in my liberation. Not only am I already mourning the death of my j'laa, but I also recently lost someone I considered a mentor due to archaic codes of honor. I have no desire to see another throw his life away equally needlessly."
I'sH'd silently nodded once.
"Are you--well?"
S'rR's rolled her eyes and snorted.
"I'm almost immortal, and was in vacuum for less than twenty seconds...I am absolutely fine," she insisted. "What worries me more is that Section 31 now has access to my genetic material. The idea that they may put other beings through the--assessments--that I was...I would not wish that on anyone."
"I doubt the information will be useable," I'sH'd replied. "Captain Strannik's attack left the ship dead in space with only emergency life support functional. I suspect whatever information they had learned has been corrupted beyond use."
S'rR's nodded. There was no guarantee--especially where Section 31 was involved--but it was the best anyone could do. She boosted herself off the biobed, drawing the attention of Doctor Sei.
"Ambassador, I would feel more comfortable if you would remain in sickbay while I run some followup scans..." the Trill physician protested.
"As your last scans showed, Doctor, I am in perfect health," S'rR's pointed out. "But thank you for your vigilance."
Whether she liked it or not, Jiana Sei had to admit she had no authority in this situation--Ambassador Kane answered to another chain of command, after all. Her interest in keeping the ambassador in sickbay had had just as much to do with giving the impression to others of a normal recovery time from decompression injuries as it had with a doctor's natural caution. The abnormalities in her patient's genetic structure and resultant healing abilities were something she recognized at once as requiring the same strict confidentiality as the true species of her captain and friend. And the lie--more like protective obfuscation--came with long-practiced ease.
Both Kane and Alyosha had to be careful with who they trusted--and for this kidnapping to have occurred, somewhere, someone had to have either violated their medical ethics with regard to the ambassador, or suffered an unnoticed security breach. The fewer traces Dr. Sei left of such things, therefore, the fewer indications of something amiss, the better.
"I'll release you on your own recognizance for the time being," Dr. Sei relented--her tone grudging for the benefit of anyone or any device that might be listening. "But if you need anything, don't hesitate to call me at once."
"Understood," the Pentaxian ambassador replied, already halfway out the door.
From the center of the bridge, Alexei Ivanovich saw the rear turbolift door open with his dorsal photoreceptors. He turned to face the occupants so that they, and his crew might recognize his attention upon them. Both moving with purpose, I'sH'd and S'rR's stepped onto the bridge.
"Ambassador Kane," the captain greeted, "welcome aboard the Chin'toka. I trust you are unharmed?"
"Fourteen seconds in vacuum, Captain," S'rR's replied lightly. "We experienced longer decompression drills at the Academy. I simply wanted to convey my thanks to you and your crew for your swift intervention. May I suggest that we return to the conference?"
Strannik nodded, pausing for a second to scrutinize S'rR's with his neuroelectric sense. There was none of the turbulent bioelectrical activity he recalled from Admiral Kane, yet she clearly possessed the ability to regenerate injuries in a similar manner; the exposure to vacuum, as brief as it was, should have at least shown as severe sunburn, but she was indeed the proverbial picture of health.
"Nothing would please me more, Ambassador," he replied. "Helm, lay in a course back to Khitomer, best speed."
"Aye, Captain," replied Ensign Mirrsh. "Engaging at warp eight."
Coming about, the Chin'toka banked away from the drifting ship, then raced toward the stars.
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To:* Chief Scientist, Cmdr. Telek R'Mor, Virinat Colony
From:* Science Mentor, Subcommander Avrak Tr'Cretak
It is with puzzlement and regret that I must report that two of my most promising students, Rwan tr'Llew and Nei'rrh t'Annik, failed to show up for duty this morning, and despite extensive enquiries I have been unable to ascertain their whereabouts. Following regulations, I am compelled to submit their names for disciplinary action upon their return, however I must add that they have never given me a moment of trouble since their arrival on Virinat. I am concerned to say the least because, as you know, they have been conducting sensitive research, and I believe were on the verge of a revelation of significance.
Respectfully, Avrak.
Early the next morning:
The handwritten note rested on the desk of the grey haired science officer. For Avrak to avoid the colony computer system and deliver this note in a sealed envelope did not bode well. He grimaced and shouted for his aide. "Thran, come here please."
A sleepy looking younger man appeared at the door, data pad in one hand, the other carrying a hot drink of some description. Steam rose lazily. "Yes sir?"
"I need information on...", he glanced at the memo again, "...a Rwan tr'Llew and Nei'rrh t'Annik. Tell me of their history...in as few words as possible this time please?" He stretched, his hands folding behind his head. He had not slept well since the problems with the bugs started a week ago. "I have an appointment for lunch with my daughter in half an hour and I do not want to disappoint her again."
The artfully arched eyebrow emphasized the slightly sardonic notes of the statement and Thran nodded in response. He was well used to the older man requesting information in this fashion instead of looking it up himself. Helped him think, or something like that, but after a career as solid as Telek's he was not going to deny the old man his strange habits.
A few taps later and Thran started summarizing the results. "Well sir, it appears their families were refugees from the home-world event and were among those to set up a colony, more of a refugee camp really as it turned out, on Dessica IV. The heavy metals present in the ecosystem made the planet unsuitable for long term habitation, but the two as mere teens developed a novel quantum filtration technique that allowed the extraction of the metals and production of potable water."
Telek grunted under his breath; "Seems like they were on the ball. I think I have heard of the clever device they created, it uses single atom sheets of gallanium, and..."
"Sir", interrupted Thran gently.
"Huh? Oh, yes, quite right...details....daughter...lunch...carry on then." Telek waved his arm vaguely before replacing it behind his head, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes.
"Hmmm," murmured Thran, tapping his padd.
Telek opened one eye and waited patiently.
"The camp was evacuated and abandoned after eight months when half of the colonists died of starvation since the local flora and fauna was inedible. They had no shuttles and no way off the desolate world."
Sitting up abruptly, Telek asked incredulously; "They were supplied with no food by the Federation?"
"No sir, I mean well yes sir, food and medical supplies were marked for the colony, but it says here that the Federation relief cargo freighters were ambushed en route, and their loss resulted in several thousand deaths from starvation and illness. It appears the students' parents were amongst the dead, sir. They are cousins."
Telek sat forward at his desk, his gaze fixed on Thran, but his focus elsewhere. He opened a communication channel; "Avrak, search their lockers, immediately, and report back to me." He had that prickly sensation that meant something was amiss and he was going to get to the bottom of it.
Personal Log: Day 212: Rwan tr?Llew:
Today we found proof of what the Federation is up to. The nasty insectoids that have been plaguing the farmland have been dissected and our analysis completed. I for one always knew that the Federation would resort to something like this. First they allow Hobus to destroy our world, then they abandon the survivors by withholding promised aid, and now this! My blood is boiling right now, but since the Federation murderers are on a recruitment drive on planet I am not allowed to express dissent!
Nei'rrh was the first to suggest using the galladium mesh to filter the blood of these creatures. I honestly was not expecting anything because our scanners were showing nothing out of the ordinary. The nanites were exquisitely designed, I have to admit. Only the Federation has the technology to craft such clever and devious machines. They could wipe us out without anyone offworld thinking we had more than an aggressive natural infestation of local fauna. Ingenious. Some faction in the Federation clearly still hates and fears the Rihannsu and what we might someday become again?
Nei'rrh wanted to tell Avrak but I convinced her that would not be wise before we escape. I have included our findings on the data pad, encryption key alpha-six-gamma-gamma-three. I assured my gentle Nei'rrh that we will warn Avrak once we have left the planet. We have decided to leave the colony since we are in such close proximity to our proven enemy here, and consider ourselves in imminent danger of being told to go with them to Earth for training at their Academy. That is unacceptable to both of us! If we were back on Romulus and things were as they once were, we would be demanding mnhei-sahe be satisfied by confronting the honourless Federation dogs who offer life with one hand and death with the other!
We have offered our services to the Klingon Empire in return for passage to one of their colony worlds in need of environmental scientists. We have no family here. Nei'rrh and I are the last of our line, the noble houses all but forgotten in the struggle just to survive. Avrak, the closest thing we had to a friend, will be the only soul we will miss.
End Log.
I.K.S. Pride of Kahless
On the crew deck of the I.K.S. Pride of Kahless, two diminutive, innocuous and somewhat frightened figures sat quietly with their backs against a bulkhead through which they could feel the deep seated thrum of the powerful engines. They shrank back, half obscured by a replicator, both sharply aware of the momentous turn their lives had just taken. All that they possessed was stuffed in the small bag on the floor at their feet. They'd been told to wait, that was over two hours ago. They had endured the suspicious stares and grumbling of several passing Klingons, trying not to make eye contact. You didn't have to understand the language to know an insult when you heard one. He felt the girl he loved tremble slightly next to him. His hand found hers and squeezed a gentle reassurance. Rwan silently prayed to the Elements that he had made the right decision for them by offering their allegiance to the KDF. The Rihannsu had a saying "the enemy of mine enemy is my best ally." By aligning with this fearsome honor loving race, he hoped to someday make the Federation pay for their crimes, even if it took the rest of his life.
Burst tightbeam transmission from Virinat colony, chief operative Epsilon-seven-six, report follows authentication...access code seven-gamma-omega-four...please verify.
Beep
The test on the new borg-style nanoscale virus has been uncovered, please advise.
Beep
Await instructions...
Thran bit his lip anxiously as he waited. It was typical, he thought, of the Tal Shiar to leave the lower operatives hanging on a limb.
[Ael@Capt.Tsonia and Lam@dafydd68
-Enabran Tain
A sussurruss of muffled voices drifted down through the ceiling from the room above in a half-heard tide of conversations, pleasantries and gossip. Ta'nara's keen ears picked out the odd detail here and there-- a few smidgens about the price of grain, of an upcoming electoral season and the latest improvements in self-stealing stem bolts. All terribly exciting stuff, Ta'nara was sure, if you were a bureaucrat, and/or had had a lobotomy recently.
She sighed as she leaned against the wall of the greenhouse and took another sip from her glass of kanar. It didn't have quite the kick of a good ale, she noted, but it still had a very pleasant taste to it. Her new Republic uniform-- an olive-green jacket, a grey jumpsuit underneath, and a series of belts and pouches for field instruments-- still felt oddly snug on her slender form, quite unlike her old, metallic Star Empire uniform that was more comfortably loose. She still couldn't get used to how...rustic the Republic uniform looked, in contrast to the more imposing, pointed uniforms the Tal Shiar had worn. That, she knew, was going to be one of the many, many things about her new life that she was going to have to get used to.
The sussuruss quited down a little, and she could hear a single voice speaking a little more clearly from above. They were finally on to another speech, she thought. Probably something about proposed trade agreements, or agricultural research, or a cultural exchange, or some other topic that would make Ta'nara want to bash her head against the wall. By the Elements, these Cardassians sure love to talk. Is that how they conquered half the Alpha Quadrant once upon a time? By talking worlds into submission?
It hadn't been her choice to come here. though now that she was an officer of the Republic taking orders from Temer, it wasn't as if she had any choice. With the planning already under way for the big conference at Khitomer, D'Tan had seen fit to send a diplomatic delegation to Cardassia-- partly as practice for the Republic's new envoys, but also, as D'Tan said, because the Republic could learn a lot from another race that had faced disaster and been forced to rebuild its whole society from scratch. Temer had assigned Ta'nara as part of the escort to Ambassador Satris, ostensibly to help bolster the Ambassador's already sufficient security detail. The trip to Cardassia itself had been uneventful, but the reception party in Lakarian City was dismal, dull and boring to anyone who wasn't a diplomat or bureaucrat like Satris. After the first half-hour of shaking hands and engaging in dull conversation with members of the Detapa Council, Ta'nara had finally slipped away to enjoy some relative peace and quiet in the basement arcology of the Council building.
And the greenhouse, Ta'nara had to admit, sheltered a very impressive garden. Instead of the motley, haphazardly thrown-together collection of plants and flowers she had seen in most gardens on the flotilla, this was a carefully organized area that kept categories and species together while still keeping them all in close proximity. A nimbus of colours and shapes filled Ta'nara's vision-- vibrant reds, deepest azures, speckled fragemtns of yellow and black, along with the ever present greens, greys and blacks of greenery. Her augmetic eye, meanwhile, picked up a dazzling display of thermal readings, dancing spore-clouds, and ultraviolet nectar-guides. Half the flora of the Alpha and Beta Quadrants were represented in this garden, and at a cursory glance Ta'nara recognized, Bajoran lilacs, Vulcan orchids, Folnar jewel plants, Risan bean vines and Diomedian scarlet moss, along with half a dozen other species that Ta'nara didn''t recognize.
The garden gave Ta'nara a sense of calm and ease, a feeling that she hadn't felt in years. More than that, it gave her a sweet sense of nostalgia-- a memory of her girlhood years in the Science Academy, when she had been studying to become a biologist. But that had been before events had forced her instead to become something else entirely.
Even as she allowed herself to lose herself in the flowers a little, she became aware of another figure entering the garden. She glanced sideways, and the newcomer jumped slightly in surprise.
"Oh...I beg your pardon. I didn't expect to find anyone else here." The newcomer was an elderly Cardassian man of a middling, unimpressive build and height. His thin, slickly combed hair, which once upon a time might have been black, was a distinguished, gleaming silver, and his ridged face, while visibly creased with age, had a disarming softness to it. There was a melodious note to the man's voice, and his eyes were at warm, bright and intelligent. He was clearly a civilian, dressed in an ornate velvet tunic and leggins which, Ta'nara noted, appeared to have been exquisitely tailored by hand.
For all intents and purposes, the Cardassian appeared to be just another civilian councilman, wandering down from the meeting area with a glass of kanar still in hand. He was also, however, the unofficial reason for Ta'nara being here.
Ta'nara gave the newcomer a casual shrug, yet inviting shrug. "Neither did I," she said, "so I suppose that makes two of us." She took another sip of kanar. "I take it you were bored by the trade talks as well?"
The Cardassian gave her a good-humoured smile. "Oh, I'm used to tedious conferences by now, as much as it saddens me to say so," he said. His gaze drifted to the garden. "Lovely, aren't they? The Detapa Council personally made space in the capitol building for this garden during the rebuilding process. Chairwoman Lang felt that the Council needed a symbol of Cardassia's regrowth, and of how all good things come only through patience, perseverence and care."
"Well, I suppose that's true of plants, at least," Ta'nara muttered. She turned her head back to the garden. "But I do agree with you, it is an impressive garden. I particularly like the Edosian orchids."
The last sentence was a verbal hook. It was a little-known fact that Proconsul Merrok of the Star Empire had been poisoned by the spores of an altered Edosian orchid some sixty-odd years ago. It was an even lesser-known fact that those orchids had been cultivated by a gardener loaned to the Senate grounds by the Cardassian embassy.
The Cardassian, however, didn't rise to the bait. He simply kept smiling. "Yes, they've always been a favourite of mine," he replied. "Of course, recently I've taken a liking to the thornrose of Brea III. It is deceptively resilient for such a lovely flower, although it doesn't grow well outside of its harsh jungle environment, I find."
Outwardly, Ta'nara's expression remained aloof, but she felt the skin on the back of her neck crawl a little. This man knew she had been on Brea III, which also meant that he knew more details about her than most of her Republic superiors.
"You are a very knowledgeable man," she said. "At least, where horticulture is concerned."
Her guest chuckled. "Oh, nonsense," he replied. "I'm a very foolish man who just so happens to have an insufferable wit. I suspect that's why Chairwoman Lang made me a politician-- it's a punishment I wouldn't wish on my worst enemies."
The Cardassian's statement left Ta'nara an opening-- she didn't know if it was clumsiness on his part, or if he was baiting her. Either way, she decided to take her chances and jump on the comment. She turned her head and looked him in the eye. "And what enemies would those be, Councilor Garak?"
Elim Garak's smile remained, though something now seemed a little off about it. "In case you hadn't noticed, Subcommander Ta'nara," he replied, "my poor, long-suffering homeworld is on the verge of a civil war, one between our loving, tolerant and democratic modern Union and the proponents of an older, more militaristic order." He took a sip from his own glass of kanar. "You can relate, I'm sure."
Ta'nara allowed herself the ghost of a smile. "I'm sure I can," she replied. "It must be terrible having to deal with an invisible enemy living in your own backyard, loudly proclaiming allegiance to the Union while secretly plotting to blow up a marketplace or school. How do you manage, I wonder?"
If Garak had any idea of what Ta'nara was getting at, he made no indication of it. Instead, he simply lifted his glass as though in a toast and grinned. "Why, I'm managing right now," he said. "With kanar, and lots of it. Not as...potent, as Romulan ale, I'm afraid, but it calms the nerves like nothing else."
Ignoring the subtle barb, Ta'nara decided to press on, even though, she knew, to do so would be rather indelicate. "Still, you have to admit, dealing with a subversive enemy like the True Way must be a precarious business," she said, rolling her glass in her palm. "In my experience, the worst enemies are the ones that come wearing the faces of friends. A situation like this must sometimes make you wish for a return to an older, more simple time, when you weren't so...constrained by your present office."
Garak's smile disappeared as he stood next to her, leaning against the railing of the garden. "Perhaps, perhaps not," he said whistfully. "While I am proud to say that Cardassia has, for the most part, rebuilt and risen from the ashes like some metaphorical phoenix...some things are best left under the rubble."
"Oh, I wouldn't know anything about that, Councilor." Ta'nara turned away and drank another sip of kanar. "We Romulans weren't even afforded the luxury of rubble."
The smile returned. "And you have my eternal sympathies," Garak replied. "As charming as I find your veiled phrases to be, Subcommander, I fear there's no need for the usual game of deflections and hints. This garden is possibly one of the most secure locations in Lakarian City, so...we can afford to be frank with one another."
Of course, Ta'nara realized. This would be Garak's garden, after all. She tried to look aloof as she gazed at the garden, now imagining hidden sound-dampeners, scrambling fields and sensor-ghosts hidden among all of that flora. "Secure from the True Way, perhaps," she said, "but you underestimate the Tal Shiar."
"I make a point of not underestimating anyone, Subcommander," Garak said flatly, "especially what's left of the Tal Shiar. Sela's enforcers may be formidable, but they are a far cry from the terrifying agency that they once were."
Ta'nara felt her cheeks burn. She knew that she shouldn't have taken offence to the comment, now that she had defected, but all the same she felt a brief sting of anger at the comment. Which, she realized, was probably as Garak had intended. "One could say the same of the Obsidian Order," she replied smoothly.
"And that's because the Obsidian Order is quite dead," Garak said, "and may it forever remain so. Despite, Subcommander, what you may have been hoping when you came here." He turned to her and raised an eyebrow-- in condescension or amusment, Ta'nara couldn't tell. "And yes, Subcommander, before you say anything else, I do know the reason why you were waiting for me in the garden, romantic but unrealistic alternatives aside."
Ta'nara raised an eyebrow in turn. "Oh really? Well, that's a relief, Councilor, because I had completely forgotten that I even had a reason. Perhaps you could indulge me?"
Garak seemed to respond well to sarcasm, as he gave her a mischievous grin. "Half the Alpha Quadrant has been following the news regarding the proposed Khitomer Conference, Subcommander. D'Tan has been very loud in his desires to treat with the Federation and Klingons both, despite the fact that the two groups decidedly hate one another other, and hold little love for the Romulans either. And everyone following the news has collectively been asking the same, hushed questions: 'Are the Romulans going to become a power again? 'Does this bode well, or ill, for the galaxy at large?' 'Is this going to be a repeat of what happened the last time Romulans visited Khitomer?'"
"You take a long time to get to the point," Ta'nara cut in, ignoring Garak's barbed reference to the Khitomer Massacre. "Is this a typical Cardassian trait, I wonder?"
"My point, Subcommander," Garak said, "is that your Republic's war with the Tal Shiar is as much a covert war as an overt one. Allying with the Federation or the Klingons would get you military support, certainly, but the Tal Shiar would know about that. To defeat the Tal Shiar covertly, you would want to gather much less obvious allies." There was a gleam in his eye now. "Allies...like a humble member of the Detapa Council and former tailor."
"And a former member of the of Obsidian Order, who has killed quite a lot of Romulans." Quite a lot of Romulans, Ta'nara realized, if one could blame the Star Empire's entry into the Dominion War on Elim Garak.
"And this, sadly, is the part where I must disappoint you, Subcommander." Turning away from Ta'nara, Garak almost casually reached out and plucked an Antarian moon blossom from the garden and sniffed it. "As I quite explicitly mentioned, I am just a humble civilian councilor. The person you're talking about is a much younger, angrier Elim Garak, one whom I left behind when I returned to Cardassia. And, you know, I've found I rather like being a civilian. It brings back so many memories of my youth in the service class."
Ta'nara fixed Garak with a glare, and folded her arms. "You'll beg my pardon if I don't believe that," she said. "As far as I can tell, you still employ the same talents that once, according to some, helped save the Alpha Quadrant."
Garak gave Ta'nara a curious look. "And what, Subcommander, makes you say that?"
"The fact that Cardassia is still stable." She gestured upwards, in the direction of the murmuring voices on the floor above. "Listen. Satris and your Chairwoman are talking about cultural exchanges. Not mutual military aid or joint operations, but civilian concerns. I've seen reports on the True Way's military capabilities and reported terrorist cells, and in any other circumstance, they would have been enough to merit a declaration of martial law. But instead, your civilians are getting on with their day-to-day lives. This tells me that your war is very much like ours, Councilor Garak-- both overt and covert. And you would have lost a long time ago if you didn't have some...intelligence agency fighting the covert war."
The old Cardassian gave Ta'nara a bemused expression-- one which, to Garak's credit, did nothing to reveal whether or not she was right. "Or it could be that you are giving my people too little credit, Subcommander," he replied. "I believe there is a Human expression...'Keep calm and carry on.' You'll find it's an expression that aptly describes the Cardassian mindset."
Sighing, Ta'nara turned fully to face Garak. The old man was very hard to convince, though she had expected no less. "Fair enough," she said with a shrug. "I can see that you have your misgivings, and I suppose I can't blame you. But if there's one thing that I'm sure experience has taught you, Councilor, it's that Romulans don't make empty handed offers." She set her glass down on a nearby table. "I'm sure, Councilor Garak, you'd be interested in learning about the...hypothetical operations of True Way agents and supporters in the Narendra and Regulus Sectors. Who they are buying weapons from. What sort of deals they're making. Who their friends are. That sort of thing."
She saw a glimmer in Garak's eye. "As it so happens, I would," he said with a conspiratorial smile. "Just as, hypothetically speaking, I'm sure you would like to hear about the Tal Shiar operations in the Beta Ursae block. Particularly their...interesting scientific endeavours."
The reply nearly made Ta'nara break her aloof expression. Scientific endeavours? She had known that the Tal Shiar had a scant presence in the Beta Ursae block at best, mainly to monitor the Federation, Cardassians, and the goings-on at Deep Space Nine. But what Garak was suggesting was completely new to her.
Casually, Garak reached down and placed the Antarian blossom back in the soil. "On second thought, Subcommander, I now think there is some merit to your proposal," he said. "I think that we could benefit quite well from a whisper back and forth now and again. Besides which..." he turned and gave her a mischievous grin, "I have never said no to a pretty face, and I don't intend to start now."
Ta'nara gave him an annoyed frown. "Such mature behaviour at your age," she muttered, before picking her glass back up and raising it as though in a toast. "I'm certain D'Tan will be very happy to know the Republic has friends among the Union," she said, before taking one last gulp of the stuff.
Garak mirrored her action, raising his glass ceremoniously before taking a sip. "Your D'Tan...quite a charming fellow," he said casually. "Intelligent, idealistic...hopelessly naive. He reminds me of a doctor I used to know.""
"By that description, it sounds like he and Natima Lang have a lot in common," Ta'nara quipped back with a smile. A genuine smile, she realized all of a sudden.
Garak laughed at this. "Perhaps we should arrange for them to go picnicking together!" he joked. "But we should probably head back upstairs now-- I'd hate to miss out on an oppotunity to annoy my colleagues, after all."
Ta'nara nodded, and, following Garak's lead, headed out the doorway, leaving the serenity of the garden behind.
"What's our ETA to the Khitomer system?" he called.
"About four hours, sir" his first officer, Lieutenant Ibalei Zera, called.
"Good. I'll be in my quarters. Let me know when we arrive," He replied. "Ibalei, you have the bridge."
Bryan sat down at the desk in his quarters and began looking into what he was about to be getting himself involved in.
Romulans, He thought idly, I never thought I'd see the day we formed an alliance with them.
His thoughts began to drift back to when he was younger, only about eleven years old, when he had heard his parents arguing with someone over the ship's communicator. He remembered the mentioning of someone being his father's daughter, but his father continually denied it. When it was mentioned that she was half Romulan, he immediately cut the comm, and Bryan had to hurry back to his room to avoid getting caught out of bed when he should have been sleeping.
I wonder if she'll be there. What is she like? Is she a member of this new "Romulan Republic?" Is she part of the Tal Shiar? Who is she?
Sighing, Bryan turned to the console on his desk and began reviewing the details of the upcoming conference. It was going to be a long day.
Lieutenant Selana Da'is paced around the bridge of the T'varo class warbird R.R.W. Imperix, her long, black ponytail flowing gently behind her. After taking one final lap around, she sat back down in her chair.
"How much longer until we reach Khitomer?" she asked.
"Four more hours, sir," Veril, her chief engineer and first officer, called.
"Good. I'm heading down to my quarters. Let me know once we're there."
Selana lay back in her bed, thinking about the upcoming peace talks.
I wonder if Bryan will be there? she wondered to herself. Does he even know about me?
She thought all the way back to when she was only nine, one year before her mother, the only parent she had known her entire life, was killed. She remembered listening as her mother talked to someone over the household subspace communicator, desperately trying to convince someone that she was his daughter.When the call ended, she heard her mother start to cry, as she did almost every night when her mother thought she was asleep. When she went in and asked what was wrong, her mother said that it was her father, but not much more than that.
Elements, I really hope that he is nothing like our father seems to be, she thought idly.
With that thought on her mind, she rolled over and went to sleep.
Bryan stepped into the Chamber of Conquest and looked around, his eyes falling on the Romulan delegation's area on the left side of the hall. He saw D'Tan, the "leader" of the Romulan Republic, Temer, the Republic navy's commander, and several security officers, but nobody matching the description of his sister. Standing not far from them were the three Romulan Star Empire delegates, none of whom Bryan could matched Selana's description either. He looked to where the Federation delegation was, and walked over.
"Admiral T'nae," He said, approaching the Vulcan Admiral, "I didn't expect to see you here, sir."
"I am Starfleet's foremost expert on the Romulans," she replied flatly. "It was only logical that I participate in the conference."
"Is there anything you need from me, sir?"
"I would like you to remain on board the Invincible. If there is any Romulan treachery, you must be ready to respond immediately."
"With all due respect, sir, I doubt that the Romulans are trying to fool us with this conference."
"What would give you that idea? The Romulans are nothing if not treacherous."
"Well, sir, they've gone to a lot of trouble to bring us here, and considering that the loss of one Admiral would hardly be a crippling blow to Starfleet, and the loss of a few diplomats would not concern the Klingon Empire very much, they wouldn't do very much to harm either side."
"Valot, you have your orders," T'nae said tersely, "Carry them out."
"Yes, sir," Bryan replied, anger flashing over his face briefly. "Invincible, one to beam up."
"So, did you get to meet her? Selana, I mean," Ibalei asked as Bryan sat down in the captain's chair.
"No." He replied, staring blankly at the viewscreen. "Either she wasn't there yet, she won't be there, or she's not a member of D'Tan's republic."
"Well, from what I can tell, there is still one Romulan Republic ship that has yet to arrive, the R.R.W. Imperix. Would you like me to do some research into the vessel?"
"Go ahead. I'll be in the ready room."
Selana awoke to the sound of her quarters' intercom being hailed by the bridge. She got out of her bed, walked over to the intercom, and opened the channel.
"Selana, go ahead," she said wearily.
"Sir, we've arrived at the Khitomer system," Veril called through the intercom.
She sighed heavily. "I'll be up to the bridge in a moment."
Reaching down, she picked up the dark green jacket that served as her uniform, and slid it around her undershirt. She stared at the window, using it as a mirror. She reached back, gathering her long, silky black hair into a ponytail and tied it off. She then reached up, pushing her bangs slightly so they flowed gently to the right side of her face, leaving her facial ridges only slightly visible. With a satisfied nod, she walked out of her quarters to find a turbolift to the bridge.
"There's doubt everywhere," D'Tan said shortly after Selana finished reviewing the opinions of the Klingon and Federation delegations with him. "We have to be careful not to-"
"This conference is a farce," Empress Sela yelled, interrupting, D'Tan.
"Sela!" Tovan shouted, turning towards her.
"You're not trying to found a settlement," The Empress pressed, "You're rebelling against your sovereign. You're stirring up dissent with your wild stories stories of mysterious aliens and colony attacks."
"Wild stories?" Tovan said, anger playing across his face.
"Until now, I gave your little 'movement' some leeway because I thought I could convince you to see the error of your ways," she continued, "But this conference shows me I have been far too forgiving."
"You!" Tovan said, reaching for his plasma pistol, "How could you-"
"Tovan!" D'Tan called out sternly, "You two, please, leave this to Temer and me.
"She's not worth it, Tovan," Selana whispered, placing her hand on Tovan's, who was already preparing to draw his weapon, to prevent him from ruining any chance they had for peace.
"Unbelievable!" Tovan said angrily, as soon as they were out of earshot of Sela and the Romulan Star Empire delegates. "How can that woman just stand there and deny everything? If you ask me, the only thing worse than the Tal Shiar is the Politician who lies for them. There should be no allegiance with such-" he paused for a moment. "Hold on, we're getting a message from the ship. They're picking up odd ships on sensors." He paused again. "Ships that match the one we scanned back when the colony was destroyed! Good. Now, they'll have to deal with us, the Klingons, and the Federation!"
"Veril, inform the Klingons they have uninvited guests," Selana said into her communicator.
"Selana," Tovan said, concern beginning to cross his face, "The Klingon's command base has ordered us to remain in orbit and leave the defense of Khitomer to them. However, I'm certain the Singularity signature I'm detecting is the same ship that was detected in orbit of Virinat during the attack. This could be the person responsible for the destruction of the colony! Are we going to investigate despite the Klingon's objection?"
"What do you think, Tovan?" Selana said, anger flashing across her face for a brief moment when she thought of the loss of colony she grew up on. "Imperix, two to beam up."
"Sir, Romulan ships on sensors!" Ibalei called from her station, "They're charging weapons!"
Bryan was briefly shocked by what he saw. "Red alert!" He yelled out, "How many ships are we looking at Ibalei?"
"One D'deridex class battleship, two Mogai class escorts, and two T'varo light warbirds, sir." The Trill called. "We also have more ships on approach, one Klingon Vorcha class battlecruiser, one Ning'Tao class Bird of Prey, One Romulan Dhael class escort, and one T'liss class light warbird."
"Do you know what the Romulan vessels intent is?"
"No sir, but one of the two Romulan vessels that are on approach with the Klingon vessels is hailing us."
"Put them through."
"Lieutenant Commander Valot?" The Romulan woman who appeared on the screen asked.
"Yes?"
"I am Subcommander Nadel of the Romulan Republic. Those vessels that just warped in in front of you are with the Tal Shiar and are not part of the Romulan delegation. We would like your assistance in pushing them back."
"Sounds like a plan," Bryan replied. "Helm bring us in close."
"How close do you want us, sir?" The Ensign Dwayne, the helmsman, called.
Bryan paused for a moment. "Right down their throats."
The Invincible maneuvered right up to the Romulan formation, phaser beams lancing out from their arrays and impacting the shields of the Tal Shiar ships. She concentrated her fire on the Romulan D'deridex, which had trouble hitting the vastly smaller Excalibur class. The few hits that were scored, however, were quite devastating.
"Sir, heavy damage across the engineering section," Six called flatly from her station, making Bryan shudder slightly. "Also, we have a hull breach on deck seven and severe damage to the armor."
"Anything else?" Bryan asked.
"Not yet, but I recommend we pull out before we take more damage."
Bryan paused for a moment. "Helm, fly us right between the warbirds wings."
"Sir?" Dwayne asked, turning back towards Bryan with a worried look on his face.
"They won't be able to hit us there without risking damaging their own vessel, and we're maneuverable enough to be able to stay in that space. Get us there, now."
The tiny vessel turned toward her foe, moving into the space between the upper and lower wings of the D'deridex class. It was a tight fit, even for a vessel that was the same size as the Constitution class, but it was a fit nonetheless, and they kept firing, now joined by the Klingon and Romulan reinforcements.
"Sir, The D'deridex's singularity core is destabilizing!" Ibalei called.
"Helm, full impulse, get us out of here. Now." Bryan said calmly.
Behind the Invincible, the Romulan warbird suddenly became engulfed in a sea of darkness as the Singularity that was kept in check was released, ripping the ship apart from the inside. When the ship was totally consumed, the singularity disappeared, leaving behind a powerful shockwave as it did.
"Status?" Bryan called.
"Area is secure, sir," Ibalei said, turning in her chair to face him.
"Any more ships on sensors?"
"Negative. There were a number of Tal Shiar vessels on the other side of the planet, but a Republic T'varo class, the R.R.W. Imperix, and the I.K.S. Kang defeated them."
"Who's the commander of the Imperix?" Bryan asked curiously.
"Someone named," Ibalei paused as she pulled up the roster that had been sent to all attending ships by the Republic delegation, "Selana Da'is."
After the conclusion of the conference
"Sir, we're being hailed by a Federation ship," Selana's communications officer called.
"Which one?" She asked.
"The U.S.S. Invincible, under the command of Lieutenant Commander Bryan Mitchel Valot."
Selana paused for a moment. She was being hailed by her brother.
That means either one of two things, she thought to herself, Either he knows who I am, or he's about to try to convince me to work with Starfleet.
"Put them through," she called.
The screen changed and revealed the clean interior of a Starfleet vessel. In the center was a young man, no older than 21, with a clean-shaven face, short brown hair, and brown eyes that seemed to be able to read your every move.
"Lieutenant Selana Da'is?" the man asked.
"Yes," She replied. "Who are you?"
"I am Lieutenant Commander Bryan Mitchel Valot, commanding officer of the Federation starship Invincible. Do you mind if my first officer and I speak to you in your ready room?"
Selana looked around the Bridge, gauging her officers opinions. Some nodded slightly, others remained passive and still others shook their heads.
"My first officer will meet you in Transporter room one. She will show you to the bridge."
"Thank you. We will be over shortly."
Bryan eased himself into a chair across the desk from a where a Romulan woman sat. She was very beatiful, with long, silky black hair tied up into a ponytail, piercing green eyes, and a subdued, yet still very proud, posture. Behind her stood a tall Reman woman who, though she attempted to appear stoic, visibly cared about Selana, more so than a normal officer would.
"I take it you're Selana Da'is?" Bryan asked.
"Good guess," She said cooly. "What do you need?"
"If you think I'm here to try to convince you to ally with Starfleet," Bryan began, "Then you're mistaken. I merely wished to offer my personal condolences for the loss of Temer."
"And why would you care about that?" Selana shouted, slamming her fist onto the desk as she stood quickly.
Ibalei instinctively went for her phaser pistol, but Bryan remained unfazed. Slowly, he looked back to Ibalei and held out his hand, as if to prevent her from drawing her weapon.
"I care," He replied, carefully measuring his voice, "because you're family."
"So, you already know," she said with a hint of bitterness. "I take it you already know about how our father feels about me?"
Bryan nodded. "Yes. My parents are not known for their...acceptance of other species."
"At least you got to have your parents for your entire life. My mother was killed when I was ten by the Tal Shiar."
"I was not aware. Though my life hasn't been the greatest either. I'm sure it cannot compare to yours however. My parents are not easy to please."
"Oh? And why is that?"
"Nothing I have ever done has pleased them," Bryan said bitterly. "When I was 18, I was onboard a freighter that was raided by two Orion frigates. The Captain was killed in the opening shots and the First officer panicked. I took command of the freighter, and we managed to disable both of the frigates. When my parents found out, they weren't impressed. All they did was question why I didn't just leave the ship to the first officer. When I joined Starfleet, they accused me of trying to ruin the family business. When I was given my first command, they thought I was just trying to avoid them."
"Sounds like your life was even harder than mine was," She whispered, her face softening a little. "My mother, when she was alive, supported me through a lot. As I'm sure you've heard, life on Virinat was rather...difficult."
Bryan nodded. "What happened to your mother?" Bryan asked.
"Killed by the Tal Shiar when I was ten. They sought to try to bring the colony back into the fold of the Empire, but our security forces held them off. My mother was one of the officers. She sacrificed herself to save her squad."
"I'm sorry, Selana."
"Don't be. It's been eleven years. I've come to terms with what happened already."
Bryan paused briefly. "Well, I should get back to my ship. But, before I go, there is something I need to tell you."
"What is it?" Selana asked curiously.
"I want you to know, regardless of whether you ally yourself with the Federation or not, I promise you, as your brother that if you ever need any assistance at all, I will do everything in my power to aid you."
"That's a big promise, Bryan" The Romulan said.
"And it is one that I will uphold. I'll see you around, sister."
As Bryan got up from his chair however, Selana called, "Bryan, wait."
"Yes?"
Selana stood up. "You have my personal word that I will be allying with the Federation."
"You don't have to do that you know," Bryan replied.
"I know, but I think this will be best. You can provide much more for us than the Klingons could, and I know that you will always be there for me. So, where else could I turn.
Bryan smiled lightly. "Thank you, Selana. That means a lot."
Commanding officer: Odyssey class U.S.S. Athena
Admiral of the 1st Assault Fleet
Join date: Some time in Closed Beta
To state that the place was a mess would be an understatement. I was pretty sure that the crew lounge would be the last thing that would be repaired. I couldn't really blame the Romulans. With the small size of the Romulan republic, they would need all the ships they could get, and preserve them to the best of their abillity. This also meant there was other damage that needed repairing first.
There was the sound of glass breaking on a bar somewhere to my right. In the few small wisps of light from the Tau Dewa or New Romulus sun as the Republic now called its own capital world, I noticed a slender female figure draped across that same bar. Next to her, were several empty bottles. The smell of Romulan ale entered my nostrils as I closed in on and thus found the person I was looking for.
"Eris?" There was no movement at first. But soon the shadow changed into a movement of body parts. Only then did a slurred voice follow
"Jenn?" It was a single worded question with a lot more intent.
"Yes Eris, you held the line." It was the first thing I wanted her to know, that her contribution helped prevent something terrible from happening again. My little three ship taskforce had been en route for an aid mission to New Romulus, along with a couple of other convoys and taskforces. We ended up giving aid alright, just not in the way we all imagined.
"Good." Yet another movement of that body, and the head of Eris Shalvon was resting on the bar again, apparently impervious to the world. It worried me. Although the Elachi threat had been nullified for now, both Hakeev and Sela were still out there, and they were going to have to be dealt with, preferably with her help.
"Jenn?" I looked down on the still form. ?Did it matter??
Although I was sure Eris couldn't really see me, I nodded. "It mattered. The republic is still there, and so is Hakeev." That got the effect I was looking for.
Slowly but surely Shalvon raised her head from the bar and glanced in my direction. ? Did you have to mention him?? she was almost whining. I knew of the Tal shiar colonel's obsession with her, ever since the start of the 'Khitomer alliance' with the Romulan republic I still didn't know why that Tal Shiar colonel was so obsessed with this one Romulan. And I asked myself if I really wanted to know. There was no answer though.
"Are you still wondering about Hakeev, Jenn?"
I let my silence answer for me. Shalvon continued on her voice now a bit less slurred. ?I think Hakeev fears me. I'm something from the new, something that doesn't take orders like the rest, but thinks for its self and decides and acts. It's as if I'm everything he's not, and he can't deal with that.? the slurr was fast disappearing and there was a force there, a force of something unknown yet ferocious that was waiting to explode into something that I wanted to be able to define but couldn't.
On the inside I was smiling. On the outside I was still neutral. We weren't there just yet. But we would soon be. ?He's still waiting out there, for you and me.?
In response I heard a sigh. ?I know.?
Slowly and somewhat less steady then usual Eris got up and started to walk in the direction of the entrance to the bar. "Let's get this over with." She glanced in my direction again. And this time, I noticed a little fire in that glance........
I'll be unsticking this now, but feel free to still participate if you have not had a chance yet. #44 coming up in a bit.
Cheers,
Brandon =/\=
The Andorian First Officer looked to her Captain. "Sugihara wouldn't say more?"
Kathryn Beringer did not look up from the floor and shook her head. "I'm sure he doesn't know about my past and, if I were in his shoes, neither would I care. We are Starfleet, it is my duty, right?"
Anthi smirked, "Yes, sir."
The Captain looked up and sighed. "I guess it is safe to say, that if Sugihara gave the green-light to this diplomatic situation, then who am I to question that?"
"Forgive me for stating the obvious, but you are Captain of a Starfleet vessel. That gives you the right."
Kathryn nodded and smiled. "Thank you, Anthi. You are a great friend, but a better XO? There is no one else." She stopped and looked to Anthi. "Tomorrow the Alcubierre will meet us and our 'guest' will officially join our crew. Besides, she might be as resourceful as Sugihara promised."
+++
Standing in the transporter room, Kathryn gave herself the once-over. Her ambassador jacket was bright white with blue trim. The rank and Starfleet badges crisply reflected the lighting of the room. Beside her stood the three highest-ranking officers of Solaris: First Officer Anthi Ythysi. Beside her stood her barrel-chested brother, Chief Engineer Thel Ythysi. To his side was the diminutive Trill, Science Chief Omazei. Each of them wore the dress uniform of the ship where the department colors were bordered by black leather with the torso and arms in bright white mesh of the Sierra-style jacket. All of them seemed relaxed, and each of them knew what was about to happen, but none could tell what would happen after that.
The Ensign at the transporter pad broke the silence. "They are ready for transport, sir."
Kathryn nodded and within seconds the transporter pad activated, then the shimmering curtain faded. Anthi briefly looked to Kathryn to see a response, but could not tell in the second she looked away from their guest.
Standing on the pad, the female looked into the darkened room. Her dark brown armor clanked and leather creaked as she shifted her weight onto one leg. Raising a hand to her hip she looked directly to Kathryn. Deep blue eyes sparkled as she smiled. Her dark green hair framed her smooth green skin.
"Captain Beringer, I presume?"
Kathryn breathed in quickly then stepped forward and extended her hand. "Staza Murai, welcome aboard the Solaris.
The Orion stepped off the pad and accepted the gesture. "Allow me to be blunt Captain, we need to talk."
"Of course, I expected that actually. Do you wish privacy?" Kathryn waved to the doors.
Staza stepped away then looked over her shoulder and smiled, "bring who you wish. The more the merrier."
+++
"I'm surprised Sugihara didn't say more." Staza Murai sat back into her chair as if relieved.
"None more than me," Kathryn said. "I'm curious why you specifically requested to be aboard Solaris?"
"Because, Captain, you are very well-known in the Orion Syndicate"
The four Starfleet officers looked to one another. Anthi spoke first. "That doesn't make sense"
Staza smiled at the Andorian. "It shouldn't, but it's the simple truth."
Kathryn could feel her frustration rising. She looked at Anthi before responding, "You have me at a disadvantage."
Crossing her legs, Staza spoke slowly. "Captain, you've been interfering with Syndicate affairs for several months. In their circles you are called 'Ous noum hid'. Roughly translated as-"
"'Scarlet Scorpion'", Kathryn interrupted.
"If you wish. Are you aware of the attention you are personally gathering?"
Kathryn shook her head. "Frankly, I don't give a damn."
Staza smiled broadly. "That's why I am here. My brother was a third in the Ceasc Suel Cartel and was accused of selling secrets to a rival group within the Syndicate. If you are not aware, that's a death sentence." Her stare hardened. "Orions are nothing if not loyal."
After a few seconds, Kathryn sat back in her chair. "That interesting. Orions also are loyal to family above all other concerns, even at the cost of their own lives and thirst on revenge. So, your brother was accused of a crime he did not commit and you're out to punish his accusers. Your here on a Starfleet vessel wanting to join my crew at the behest of the highest ranking Diplomat in the Federation." She leaned forward and clasped her hands together. "Why are you really here?"
The Orion smiled slowly. "I have offered my intimate knowledge of the inner workings of the Syndicate to Starfleet, on the condition I serve aboard your ship."