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Cptn Swain

Rising

While Excalibur waited for the Scorpiad delegation to arrive, and the Vauban’s team caught their breath before heading to the system’s command and control center, Misha Abronvonvich took a drink of doctored coffee and waited for the spinning parabola on his screen to fade into the visage of his direct superior -- Fleet Admiral Caitlyn Yarboro.

 

The connection between Camelot Station and Earth was only possible a few hours of the day, even with the extended range of the Bedevere Array and was thus relatively limited. Abronvonvich could only assume that Yarboro was calling to inform him, officially, that his replacement had been selected.

 

After a few moments longer, Yarboro’s face appeared. She was younger than him -- though most officers were -- with strong features and long, blond hair that she kept pulled back in a neat braid. She had been appointed nearly six months prior as part of President Bacco’s shakeup of the senior Starfleet leadership.

 

“Good morning,” Yarboro said with an easy smile. It was clearly evening wherever on Earth she was calling from, but Misha appreciated that she bothered to know the time difference.

 

“Ma’am,” he responded with a nod.

 

“I will keep this relatively short,” she said. “The techie said that some solar something or other in one of the relay systems could cause interference.”

 

He nodded again. Though he noted the feed was relatively clean on his end. “I am assuming you’re calling because they’ve selected my replacement?”

 

Yarbor pursed her lips. “Well, not exactly.”

 

“Oh?” It was a genuine surprise.

 

“Your position -- as a theatre level command -- hasn’t been exactly easy. There are, as your said during our last conversation, a number of political concerns to consider.”

 

He nodded, feeling some small degree of pleasure that his replacement was causing someone in command heartburn, and doubtlessly the civilians involved more so.

 

“The President’s office has been adamant that your replacement be someone with the chops to handle the sort of delicate political situations, but also be qualified for the rather volatile military situation.

 

“Which,” Yarboro continued, waving him off. “Is a tall order. We’re still sorting through a list of people who are acceptable and I assure you that we don’t intend to keep you from retirement any longer than we absolutely have too.”

Because this was totally my choice, he thought as she continued on.

 

“Anyway, that’s not why I called,” she said, straightening her uniform. “I called because the Council is more than a little concerned about the report you filed on the status of our contact with the Dominion.”

 

Misha frowned and took another drink of his coffee. At least someone was reading those reports. “Oh?”

 

“The Council ... and Command... are worried about the conclusions you’ve drawn.”

 

“In what way?”

 

“If, as you presume, the stability of the Dominion is in question -- we need to be prepared.”

 

He knew that he was showing a little more surprise than was likely appropriate, but at this point Misha knew he had very little to lose. “You mean they’re finally, finally taking me serious. Well I’ll be...”

 

Yarboro maintained her calm and nodded. “I understand how you feel, Misha,” she said “I am sure you find that surprising, but we do. I also know that despite what you might think, the President does respect your judgment in these matters.”

 

“She has a funny way of showing it.”

 

“I can’t speak to that and I am not going to get in the middle of it either. What I do know is that she was concerned when she read your report and so were her people, and so were the council and the rest of Command. We have what, twenty settlements, two stations and a small fleet in the Gamma Quadrant now and if the Dominion is on the verge of an all out collapse we need to be ready for it.”

 

“She read my report?” That was genuinely surprising.

 

“Yes. I know you don’t care for her, and again, I am not going to get into the middle of your situation but she is concerned about the situation, as is the council. The council has asked us for a full report on our ability to protect our assets in the quadrant as well as those on this side of the wormhole. I need you to provide a more formalized status report that can be presented to them and to the President.”

 

Misha nodded. “Of course. I’ll get to work on it.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

--

 

Arden looked to the starscape more wistfully than he’d prefer to admit. Being out of contact with Asher was the name of the game, but he found it unsettling. And even more unsettling, he wondered if Asher even cared. He shook the thought from his head as his commanding officer approached his workstation.

 

“Arden,” Captain Alexander Kalypsos said. “How busy are you?”

 

“Right now?”

 

Alexander nodded.

 

“Not terribly. Sprint’s handling the convoy arriving from Thetris, and I am just working through shift assignment approvals for next week. Why?”

 

“I’ve been asked to temporarily assign you to a project that the Admiral and Captain Irae Varen are working on. They want your expertise in diplomacy and security, especially since you’re well versed in our current situation with regards to our colonies in the Gamma Quadrant. Report to Captain Varen as soon as you can. Commander Sprint will handle your duties until you’re done.”

 

Arden furrowed his brow. He didn’t like the sound of any of that. “If I might speak candidly?” He looked around careful to be sure that no one else was within earshot of them.

 

“Of course Arden,” Alexander said. They’d only worked together for a short time, but Alexander liked Arden and didn’t mind the occasional question.

 

“What kind of project is this? Isn’t Mish.. Isn’t the Admiral on his way out?”

 

“He is, but Starfleet Command has asked him to prepare a report on the dangers posed to our assets in the quadrant by the continued destabilization of the Dominion.”

 

Arden frowned, his brow furrowing deeper. “I see. Well, I suppose they’re finally paying attention to our reports. I’ll report immediately.”

 

---

 

Irae Varen was tall, slight in build, with slicked dark hair and a chiseled jaw. His uniform was creased and pressed in all the correct places. His shoes shined just so. Arden couldn’t help but find him interesting. He pushed the thought away.

 

“Captain,” Arden said, extending his hand. “Reporting as ordered.”

 

Looking up from a stack of paperwork, Irae nodded and took the hand in a firm handshake. He had soft hands.. “Thank you Commander, have a seat.”

 

Nodding, Arden took a seat in the rather utilitarian office in the command ring of the station that had been provided to each of the ‘fleet’ commanders. “Admiral Abronvovich has been asked to repair a report on our preparedness for any civil conflict in the Dominion. Given your working knowledge of our situation as XO of Camelot, and your background in security and diplomacy, Captain Calypsos thought you’d be an ideal member of our project team.”

 

“Yes,” Arden said. “The Captain gave me a short primer.”

 

“Good. First thing we’ll need to do...”

 

A sudden chime interrupted Varen. He paused. “Excuse me,” he said with a sigh before hitting the communications panel on his desk. “Go ahead.”

 

“Sorry to interrupt you Captain,” it was his Yeoman, who Arden had seen on the way in. “But I have an urgent message from the Admiral for you and Commander Cormoran to report to the Round Table room ASAP.”

 

The two men looked at each other wearily. “Tell him we’re on our way.”

 

--

By the time they arrived, the room was filled with the other major figures in the Gamma Quadrant Command hierarchy, including the new Romulan military liaison -- who Arden remembered was named Destorie N’Dak. Noticeably absent, however, was Governor K’Vorlag, of the Klingon Empire.

 

Arden made a note to inquire about that later, and turned his attention to the Romulan. He was average height, with a slender build with a rock of jawline and the high cheekbones endemic to his race. He had shaved his head, and it reflected the overhead lights. It was an unusual look for a Romulan, but one that suited him. He was also far younger than Arden had expected -- generally Enarrains were older and more seasoned. N’Dak looked to be barely in his forties. Corris had mentioned that N’Dak’s mother had served as the station's first Romulan representative some years prior. N’Dak must have felt Arden’s eyes, and for a moment their stares met.

 

Blinking and making a conscious effort to look anywhere but those cold, icy blue eyes of the Romulan, Arden followed Irae to the Round Table itself, taking a seat next to Alexander Calypsos.

 

“Captain, Commander,” he said with a worried look on his face.

 

“What’s this all about?” Arden said, meeting the look.

 

Before Alexander could respond, Misha Abronvich entered, a lieutenant in tow. “Thank you all for coming coming on such short notice.”

 

Gruff and robust, the Admiral’s nickname of “old bear” was well earned. He motioned for the el-tee to lower the lights and activated the central holographic display encircled by the marble table. “Two hours ago, Klingon scouts and our Belvidere Arrays intercepted this message from the Alatra system.”

 

The holographic system snapped to life and the giant visage of a Vorta appeared.

 

Citizens of the Dominion, loyal subjects of the Founders -- I am Semil of the Hundred. Many of you may know our name. Some of you have become great friends to us, while others may fear the tales told of us by the ignoble followers of Keevan.

 

I am appearing now to appeal to you, the people of the Dominion to join myself and the other followers of the new link created by the Founder Eloi in the next step in our collective future. You see unlike Keevan and his ilk we do not blindly follow the Hundred. We have, instead, chosen this path. Unlike the old Dominion, we not demand obedience. We instead, reach our hands out in friendship and mutual cooperation. Under our leadership, any race who chooses to leave the Dominion may do so freely and at anytime. And unlike the Vorta Council, who have been lying to all of you, we have the voice of the Founders to guide us. You see, Odo and the rest of the link have abandoned the Council, but Eloi... Eloi has chosen to remain to lead a peaceful transition from the oppression of the past to the freedom of tomorrow.

 

For nearly twelve cycles now, the Hundred have remained in shadows. We now turn our face to the light, letting those shadows fall behind us. Join us as we burn away the past and rise anew.

 

“As you can imagine,” Misha said flatly. “This isn’t going to be the most well received message.”

 

N’Dak cleared his throat. “Admiral,” he said, surprising Arden with his fluent Federation standard. “How widely was this broadcast?”

 

Misha’s brow furrowed. “On all known Dominion channels.”

 

“Have they responded?” Alexander said, cutting off another Starfleet officer.

 

“The Vorta Council?”

 

Alexander nodded.

 

“Not yet, though I suspect they’re formulating one. Our intelligence is shaky as to what’s going on.”

 

“It’s curious,” N’Dak chimed in. “That he would mention Keevan by name, don’t you think Admiral? The latest intelligence that was shared with us indicated that Taenix was still the leader of the Council. Has that changed?”

 

Bristling at the thinly veiled accusation, Misha shook his head. “We’ve had very little contact with the Dominon over the past six months. It’s possible that there’s been a change in leadership of the Council, but I think it would be dangerous to speculate.”

 

The Romulan nodded, though Arden couldn’t help but think he saw the smallest of smug grins on his face. After several more officers asked background questions, Irae interjected. “So, what does this mean for us Admiral? It doesn’t sound like Semil is exactly plotting a velvet revolution.”

 

Misha nodded. “Yes, I concluded the same. I’ve been in contact with Starfleet Command and have been ordered to firstly, secure the station and our holdings in the quadrant. It is likely that should a shooting war erupt, we could be caught in the middle.

 

“As with other conflicts in the region, the Council continues to believe this is an internal matter which we would do well to avoid excessive entanglement. Ambassador Sorel, however, has been authorized to extend an invitation for Federation mediation.”

 

“Further,” the Admiral added. “Due to the volatile nature of the situation, I have been asked by the President to put off my impending retirement until the crisis subsides. In the coming days, I have a feeling we will all be tested. I suggest letting those under your command know what we’re dealing with here. For the moment, Captian Calypsos and I have decided to block the communication from the Avalon system, but I am sure word will get out sooner or later.

 

“I am ordering the civilian population to evacuate the station, Colonel Kimura is preparing our base, and Enarrain N’Dak has graciously agreed to allow non-Romulan personal to use their base on the planet as well”

 

“What about the colonists elsewhere?” Came the voice of someone Arden thought was Kalis Thel, the captain of the Lexington. “Are we going to begin evacuating them?”

 

“While I am not yet authorized to order the mandatory evacuation of our colonies in the quadrant, we should begin preparing for that eventuality. I am going to have Captain Varen begin drawing up those plans. I am also recalling all Starfleet vessels from their current missions.

 

“To be frank -- if this devolves into a shooting war -- we’re in a very vulnerable position. I have requested more ships from Command, but that’s not exactly politically popular. I assume, Enarrain, that the chances of getting any more Romulan vessels is equally slim?”

 

Arden -- and the rest of the room -- glanced to N’Dak. The question clearly wasn’t on comfortable ground. Though that was unsurprising. Romulans detested showing their weakness. “I will have to consult with my government,” was his final, surprisingly measured response. “Though I would venture a guess that, as you say, the politics of homeworld make it unlikely that the Senate or the Praetor will be willing to commit any significant resources.”

 

Misha nodded, pleased with the somewhat refreshing candor. “Governor K’Vorlag indicated the same about his government. Which means we must make do with what we have.”

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