Cptn Swain

Deep below the toxic clouds swirling in the atmosphere above Eok a lone, lithe figure looked out of her balcony window into a sea of urban sprawl. Behind her, Gahke’Ly’s tongue slid in and out of his toothy grin, tasting at the air. “Long range sensors,” he said finally, “have detected movement from the Outsider's base. They have dispatched a number of their ships.” “Yes,” the female humanoid said, pulling her long, white cloak about her as a crosswind kicked up. “I hear these rumors as well.” “And what do you plan to do about it?” “Me?” She said turning to face her lizardly companion. “I don’t plan to do anything about it. You? Well I would suggest you find someplace safe to hide.” Gahke’Ly growled, his tongue flicking becoming more intense. “You’re abandoning us then?” “Something like that.” “What if we give you up?” He said, as much trying to measure her action as anything else. “What if tell them who you are and help them find you? Maybe they leave us alone? Maybe they let us go on our own way? Maybe we don’t need you anymore either.” A cold, calmness resonated in her response. “Be my guest,” she said, “At any rate, I’ve never particularly cared about your cause -- you know that love. I am only interested in profit, and right now, so long as you have the Outsiders stalking you, you can’t make me any more money. “ Gahke’Ly reached for his weapon. ZZZZT Left alone with nothing more than a stained chair, the female tucked a small weapon back into her cloak and walked back to the window.

Misha Abronvonvich sat quietly in his darkened office, only the low glow of the Avalon sky shining in through the large floor to ceiling windows lit the room. Though it was ‘morning’ station time, the solar sunrise wouldn’t happen for another three hours, when Avalon’s second sun burst over the horizon. Irae Varen set a few feet away, drinking coffee and examining his commanding officer. It wasn’t like Misha to brood. “Sir,” he finally said. “Should I get the lights, Captain Swain will be here soon -- he’s usually early from what I can tell.” Misha nodded his head, but remained facing the window. “Fifty. Fifty years...” Irae blinked. “Sir?” “I have served Starfleet fifty years next month. That’s longer than most of the officers under my command have been alive. “I’ve given the Fleet everything. My life, my brother... my marriage... my two sons...everything.” Unsure where exactly this was going, Irae remained silent, gathering that the infamously guarded admiral had something on his mind. “You know I could have just about any position I wanted after the war? Oh they wanted me to run the Cardassian Reconstruction -- but I couldn’t forgive them. Not for everything they did to us, to me, to the quadrant. I should have just bought damned boat and went home. But I’d done that before, and I hated it. I like to be in the thick of things, you know? “I am going to hate it all over again.” “You’re retiring?” “If you want to call it that,” Misha said turning around, finally. “Following an in-depth review of my two years in command, and as part of a larger hearing into the Camelot Project, a review board is going to recommend to the President that I be removed from command. They were especially concerned about the incident with the Augustine and found Captain Swain’s testimony to be ‘alarming’.” Irae blinked blankly. “Swain ... testified against you?” “Not directly, though he might as well have. The Board of Inquiry into the destruction of the Augustine provided testimony and information to the review board. To say he was unhappy with me is an understatement.” “But surely that can’t be the only thing.” “Hardly,” Misha said gruffly. “They’re also putting me on the hook for everything Corizon mucked up.” “Shouldn’t ATAG be taking the fall for that? He was doing their bidding -- if you can call it that.” “Corizon through me under the bus too.” Irae was genuinely shocked. “Surely not. The man was a lot of things, but a back stabber?” “He agreed to allow his personal logs to be part of the formal record. In them he questioned my leadership and if I was being assertive enough with command over the weapons smuggling. He went on to basically accuse me of being part of the conspiracy. “He’s all but blaming me for forcing him to act.” “Oh for god’s sake,” he said. “Surely command sees that for what it is -- Corizon trying to get back into the uniform.” Misha laughed mirthlessly. “Oh, I am sure they know that. I am sure they’re more than happy to oblige him too, if it means they get a nice, fat fall guy to pin all the troubles of the Quadrant on.” Irae shook his head. “I thought they already did that with Corizon and the head of ATAG.” “Bacco apparently wants another pound flesh. The official report hasn’t gotten to her desk yet; I still have some friends on Earth -- they warned me so I could beat her to the punch.” “So you’re just going to let this happen?” “What do you suggest, Irae? I serve at the will and pleasure of the Commander-in-Chief, if Bacco wants me gone, all she has to do is give the order. If I retire, they’ll like let the matter go. If I try and fight it, they’ll do everything in their power to destroy me. I am no saint Irae; I’ve done my fair share of questionable things. Hell, I probably am responsible for letting Corizon get out of control. “The way I see it, she can appoint someone who her people can keep on a tight leash and I can go fishing on Lake Armstrong. It’s a win-win.” Irae frowned. He didn’t know exactly what to say to that. He also didn’t like the idea of a new commander coming in and shaking everything up, but if Misha had made up his mind there was little use in fighting it. “So what about our meeting with Asher?” The old Russian ran a hand through his snow-white hair and leaned back in his chair. “I am going to give him general command of the task force.” Irae blinked. “You... are?” “Oh, I think he’s going to screw it up royally. He’s a scientist, not a soldier -- says so himself, but he’s earned it I suppose. I’ve put him through a lot and he never wanted this command in the first place -- god don’t I wish they’d given it to someone else. But.” Misha said waving a hand, “he’s got the information and his crew knows more about these damned pirates than anyone else at the moment, so I am inclined to give him whatever he wants. Might as well go out in a blaze of glory -- and besides, when it does go to hell in a handbasket, it will be someone elses problem.”

Excalibur, Season 6 The Game Has Changed As we first explored in Season 5 "Transitions," the Gamma Quadrant is changing. The Dominion is caught in a maelstrom; with the Founders gone, the Vorta have found difficulties in managing the complexities of a multiethnic Empire founded solely around the idea of order. The various client races they control have begun to tug at their leashes, some have openly rebelled, while others have tried more democratic ways to separate themselves. Though the weapons smuggling from the Alpha Quadrant has largely been curtailed, tensions continue to rise as the Dominion struggles to adapt to the transitioning landscape of power. As we’ve seen first hand over the duration of last season, the Dominon’s weakening has been a mixed blessing for everyone. While a number of races have found themselves free for the first time in generations, they’re now faced with difficult problems sometimes beyond their own abilities to solve, and many of which are the legacy of years of forced subjugation. Others have found themselves swallowed up by emerging powers who’d long remained nascent in the shadows of the Dominion. And for the first time in the collective memory of anyone in the Quadrant, the Dominion seems to be on the verge of a major internal conflict as Taenix has revealed to her compatriots that the Founders have abandoned the Dominion. The Scorpiads for their part, remain in a state of flux. They are a dying race. Not only are they no longer able to construct their terrifyingly powerful organic vessels, but their own reproduction has come perilously close to stopping. As their power wanes, their own ‘children,’ the Eratians and the Al-Ucard continue their rebellion, forcing the already wounded Scorpiad to make a choice: do they continue to fight, or do they slip slowly into the shadows? As the two hegemons of the Gamma Quadrant face twilight, the powers of the Alpha Quadrant face questions about themselves and their continued participation in the politics of the ‘Dark Quadrant.’ The Romulans are on the verge of their own ‘revolution’ as the thaw in relations between the Empire and the Federation has given birth to a new era of liberalism, which in turn has caused pushback from the more radical, conservative forces within their society. While the Federation has continued to expand into the Gamma Quadrant, supporting over 20 Federation colonies, and began the process of building a second starbase, Lyonesse Station, at the GQ Terminus of the wormhole, forces within the Federation also seek to undermine our allies. The Dominion War brought sweeping changes to the Federation, and now we must look into ourselves and see if we like those changes. There’s also a lingering question: if another war or crisis were to erupt in the Alpha Quadrant, would Camelot be worth the resources? As we begin the first part of a new season, Commander Hawthorne and I hope to address the continued changes in the Gamma Quadrant in more depth.

MISSION BRIEF: While Team Kitty Boom-Boom try and find someone with a spare computer core, Mesner, Swain and Hawthorne are going aboard the Pirate!Ship to see if they can find anything aboard that might be useful. EXCAL-040724.txt

Semil’s image vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. Taenix stood quietly, contemplatively near the hologram of the unfolding battle in the skies above Tarawani. The command cruisers had since broken through the orbital defense platforms and had assumed an occupational posture, deploying ground troops to begin securing the key installations across the planet. The Jem’Hadar would move swiftly through the cities and outskirts, rounding up any civilians unfortunate enough to be in the open when they landed; if they resisted, they would be culled. Next to her, Weyoun looked on plaintively. His silence said more than he intended. Taenix had come to trust in him, despite what others had said about his conduct during the war in the Alpha Conflict. His actions, she’d found, had proved enough his dedication to the founders, and with few exceptions, his instincts for navigating conflict had been peerless. In many ways, she reminded him of a model from her generation of clones. “This Semil,” she said finally, no longer able to tolerate the silence. “You know him perhaps better than anyone. Does he mean to go through with his threats?” Weyoun did not immediately respond. It was true he knew Semil well, though there were others who knew him more intimately; few though could truly offer insight into his mind now though – he was no longer a servant of the Founders, but of the Hundred and Weyoun was still unsure exactly the extent to which that mattered, perhaps it did not. “He would not have made the threat,” Weyoun finally said after some hesitation, “unless he intended to follow through with it. Nor would he have shown his hand, as the humans say.” She had figured as much. “What does he accomplish by doing this though? Surely he knows the Council will never accept rapprochement with the Tarwani. Not after they have defied us so openly, and even setting their defiance aside, we cannot afford to let the planet go. You know this.” “Are you willing to risk your duplicity being exposed?” Taenix frowned. She had yet to come to terms with her decisions to withhold Odo’s command from the others. They knew, or suspected, that this glorious isolation was different from other periods; and certainly it wasn’t uncommon for rank and file Vorta to perhaps never see a Founder. Ultimately, she knew that she would have to reveal the truth the council. Hardening her resolve and her voice, she glanced past Weyoun towards the hologram. “I will reveal the truth myself.” Cocking his head towards her, Weyoun pursed his lips. It was an unexpected response. “Call the council.” -- The circular council chambers of the Vorta Orbital Command facility hummed with a subtle buzzing, not unlike that of a hive of bees. The full council consisted of twenty-five prime Vorta who had been selected as representing the best of their kind, genetically, with regards to governance, though today only seventeen of them were assembled for the hastily announced meeting of the council. Most assumed they had been called for an update on the efforts to pacify the defiance of the Tarawani. Taenix, tall, slender and sharply defined, entered from a side door. Her eyes were stronger, darker and cast a long, empty glance towards the center of the room. As she took her place at the center of the circular tables, the room began to quiet. “When you activated my clone, the Dominion was under threat from the Scorpiads, our ancient enemy. My purpose was to serve as guide and guardian of the Dominion in such an event. I have completed that mission. I see now that I have, perhaps, taken that mandate too far. The Dominion is under threat, but not from the enemies I was intended to fight. I am a relic from a period long gone.” She paused for a moment. She had not expected this to be as difficult as it was proving. “The Founders,” she resumed, “have given me life. Without them, I – none of us – would exist. When I was chosen from all of the Vorta of my generation to be placed into reserve, as a steward, I could not understand why I was chosen. Yet, I have always trusted in the wisdom of the Founders. “I am sure you are wondering now why you are here, why I am talking about faith. Why I am not telling you that our forces have defeated the orbital platforms and have begun reasserting our authority on the planet?” Keevan’s voice broke her monologue. “I was wondering,” he said tersely, “if you were coming to a point.” Dismissively, she continued without acknowledgement. “I believe we have come to a moment of decision for not just the Vorta or even the Dominion but for the Quadrant. For hundreds of years we have stood as the aegis for hundreds of worlds, the protector from the chaos that reigned before the Founders brought order to this quadrant; I believe that this decision must be yours, and not mine. My time has come, my mission is over.” “So you are stepping down as our leader?” Kilana, a member of one of the more liberal factions asked. “Or are you simply allowing us to decide the next course of action in the campaign against Tarwan?” “Both,” Taenix said quickly, before she could change her mind. “After this meeting, I intend to end my life in mediation and prayer for the Dominion. You must decide who will lead you.” “Has Odo been consulted?” This time it came from Atelin – one of the more moderates who had yet to side with either Kilana or Keevan, “is this his wish?” “I have not spoken to Odo in sometime,” she said, a weight lifting from her. “When the Federation uncovered the device, I was able to use it and commune with Odo and the Link, just as I told you. However, what I have not told you is what Odo intended for me, for the Dominon. “Odo wished for the device to be given to the Hundred so that he could commune with them and convince them to join with the others in Glorious Isolation. He believes that the Founders must isolate themselves to heal their wounds, and to begin to understand solids. The time of the Dominion is ending. We must be prepared, he says, to step aside and let the peoples of the Gamma Quadrant decide their own destinies.” The room was silent, but for Keevan. “And why are you telling us this now? Why this sudden change of heart? You’ve been lying to us for months now, why choose this moment to unburden your conscience?” “I will not lie any longer,” she said confidently. “The Hundred have forced my hand. They knew of my deception and were willing to expose it if I did not agree to their terms. I have chosen this path as an alternative.” “I see. And just how much more are you lying about? How many more secrets have you hidden from us?” “Keevan,” she said flatly, “I tire of your games. When I am gone, you may play for my position, but I will not stand here and hold a colloquy with you about my past sins.” “The Founders,” she reiterated, “have made their will plain. They wish the device we have in our possession to be turned over to the Hundred and that the Dominion should dissolve.” “And what of us and the Jem’Hadar,” Kilana questioned. “What of their children? What purpose do we serve then?” “Why should anything change? Keevan charged. “Our duty is clear, our purpose remains. To bring order to the quadrant. The Jem’Hadar have never needed the Founder’s presence before, and perhaps in a time, Odo will come to his senses. He is, still, a child afterall. Perhaps the...” “He is the chosen leader of the Link,” Weyoun interrupted, forcefully. “I have spoken, twice, with the Founder still in captivity in the Alpha Quadrant; she has confirmed that this is not just his will, but the will of the Link. They have chosen their path, we must now choose ours.” “Oh Weyoun,” Keevan said, his timbre rising, “always eager to follow. I see now we should have left you inactive.” “And you Keevan,” he said, “Have always been overly ambitious; it is your greatest flaw.” “Both of you,” Taenix said assertively enough to silence them both. “Will have ample opportunity to campaign for leadership of this council, soon enough.” “And what if we choose to disobey the orders of the Founders, as you have?” Kilana said, skeptically glancing towards Keevan. “What if we decide to do nothing with the device, as you have, and continue as if nothing has changed? What then?” “Then that will be your choice, but I will be able to enter into commune with my ending with an unburdened heart. Semil will likely not tolerate your duplicity, but you will have to make that decision on your own. I will not help you.” “So what are our choices then,” Atelin queried. “What options do we have?”

Transitions: Auribus Teneo Lupum For non-latin readers in the group, the phrase in the title translates to ‘having the wolf by the ears,’ the rather precarious position of having to decide if letting go is as dangerous as holding on. As we enter the second-half of Season 5’s arc ‘Transitions,’ everyone is or will be in this difficult predicament. The Dominion is caught in a maelstrom of change. With the Founders gone, the Vorta have found difficulties in managing the complexities of a multiethnic Empire founded solely around the idea of order. The various client races they control have begun to tug at their leashes, some have openly rebelled, while others have tried more democratic ways to separate themselves. Though the weapons smuggling from the Alpha Quadrant has largely been curtailed, tensions continue to rise as the Dominion struggles to adapt to the transitioning landscape of power. As we’ve seen first hand over the last several months in the first half of the season, the Dominon’s weakening has been a mixed blessing for everyone. While a number of races have found themselves free for the first time in generations, they’re now faced with difficult problems sometimes beyond their own abilities to solve, and many of which are the legacy of years of forced subjugation. Others have found themselves swallowed up by emerging powers who’d long remained nascent in the shadows of the Dominion. And for the first time in the collective memory of anyone in the Quadrant, the Dominion seems to be on the verge of a major internal conflict as Taenix continues to struggle to keep the Vorta Council united in the face of external and internal conflicts. The Scorpiads for their part, remain in a state of flux. They’re dying and they know it. Not only are they no longer able to construct their terrifyingly powerful organic vessels, but their own reproduction has come perilously close to stopping. As their power wanes, their own ‘children,’ the Eratians and the Al-Ucard continue their rebellion, forcing the already wounded Scorpiad to make a choice: do they continue to fight, or do they slip slowly into the shadows? As the two hegemons of the Gamma Quadrant face twilight, the powers of the Alpha Quadrant face questions about themselves and their continued participation in the politics of the ‘Dark Quadrant.’ The Romulans are on the verge of their own ‘revolution’ as the thaw in relations between the Empire and the Federation has given birth to a new era of liberalism, which in turn has caused pushback from the more radical, conservative forces within their government. While the Federation has continued to expand into the Gamma Quadrant, supporting over 20 Federation colonies, and began the process of building a second starbase, Lyonesse Station, at the GQ Terminus of the wormhole, forces within the Federation also seek to undermine our allies. The Dominion War brought sweeping changes to the Federation, and now we must look into ourselves and see if we like those changes. There’s also a lingering question: if another war or crisis were to erupt in the Alpha Quadrant, would Camelot be worth the resources? Going forward into the rest of this season, Commander Hawthorne and I hope to continue to address this central theme: the idea of being caught between impossibly difficult choices and having to ultimately decide which path to take, or in some cases, being forced down a path. Over the next several plots we will see a variety of species in a variety of situations, and how the choices they and others have made have led us to this point, the moment of transition.

Season 5.5, Episode 2.5 "After Effects" SD 092013.22 While medical and security continue to recover from their mission, an alarm has triggered on the bridge and a possible plasma based explosive has been detected. IC Date: February 22, 2386

MISSION BRIEF: The Excalibur is continuing on a course home. The away team has been awaken and is still coming to terms with the events on the surface. 092213.rtf

The defense grid surrounding Tarwani had done an admirable, if not Quixotic job of stalling the Dominion assault. Ultimately, the hulking cruisers were able to outlast the orbital platforms and overcome them. Afterwards, the purple, scarab shaped vessels had begun orbital bombardment. It was, Maliv considered as he observed from his ocular device, a pity that the situation had come to such barbarism. In the first wave of bombardment, the Dominion had obliterated nearly a dozen settlements. The Jem’Hadar were nothing if not brutally, painstakingly efficient and their ground troops had largely secured all the major industrial facilities and had begin to corral rebels across the planet. Maliv had expected a quick surrender. He had hoped, at least that Alana would be reasonable, that she would realize that the Dominion would not back down now, especially not since it seemed the Hundred had interfered and activated the defense grid for them. It had been nearly three cycles though, and there was no sign of capitulation. Perhaps Alana had been killed in the bombardment, perhaps she wished to die with her people. In any case, Maliv had resigned himself to carrying out the distasteful task to its conclusion. Light years away, orbiting a dead planet, the Vorta Council chambers were empty save for Weyoun and Taenix and a flickering hologram of the battle. Like Maliv, both had hoped for a more peaceful resolution, but both knew that what had to be done had been done and there were few other options for the Dominion. “Our allies from the Alpha Quadrant,” Weyoun said, breaking the silence, “will no doubt be displeased.” “Yes,” Taenix said with the briefest of glances to Weyoun before returning to the hologram. “Their ambassador to Camelot has filed a formal protest. At least the Federation’s representative.” “Did they offer mediation, again?” “Yes. I instructed our adjutant to thank them for their concern, but to remind them of our sovereignty and their own prime directive.” Standing with his arms crossed, Weyoun watched as an explosion ripped across the planet’s surface. There was a time when he would have had zero reservations about culling the dissidents on Tarwani. He had, over his many lives, ordered numerous cullings and carried many of them out personally. For him, it was a personal offense that such heretics would refuse to embrace the love and wisdom of the Founders. It had been why, during the war with the Alpha Quadrant, that he had been so utterly puzzled by their refusal to simply accept the Dominion. That experience, however, had changed him. Free will, it seemed, was more addictive than white. “The Federation will not interfere,” he said. “But the Hundred...” “We must deal with their...” “You should take care,” Semil’s sudden appearance before them was jarring, even for the Vorta. “Keevan tried to deal with us, and see what that has caused.” Taenix’s eyes flickered with anger. She knew it was merely a hologram, and one not worth trying to trace, but still that Semil had so easily infiltrated the command structure was disquieting and infuriating. “Semil.” Weyoun remained quiet. He and Semil had many dealings over the many years they had served the Founders. It had shocked him when he had learned of Semil’s conversion to the Hundred, though he could relate. Weyoun, afterall, had once embraced a member of the Hundred. “I have come to ask you to call off the Jem’Hadar, to step back from the brink.” “So, the Tarwani have cast their lot with the heretics. Unfortunate. I had hoped to spare them, to be merciful, but I cannot simply ignore this treason Semil, you know this.” “Heretic? Is that what we’re being called now. Ironic, wouldn’t you say Weyoun?” Weyoun looked at Semil, “What do you mean?” “I find it, strange, that we should be called heretical when it is the Hundred and those who serve them, by our own volition I might add, who are the only Vorta and Jem’Hadar who have the words of the only remaining Founders upon our lips.” Taenix’s eyes flared. She had suspected, for some time, that the Hundred knew of her deception with regards to the status of the Great Link, but this was the first confirmation. “If you came here to threaten me, then do so. Your words mean nothing to this Council and the Jem’Hadar will not follow you.” “No,” Semil said, “But I have something you don’t. A Founder in the flesh.” “And who says that we do not have the Council of the Great Link? “ “You may continue to lie to the others,” Semil said, “but I am not as naive or blind. And I am sure you need not lie for Weyoun’s sake. After all, he has spoken to a Founder far more recently than you, Taenix and he knows the truth as well. Odo has taken the Link into seclusion. He told you to give us the device, did he not?” “I will not broker this debate any longer, make your threat and begone.” “Taenix,” Weyoun said gently. “Listen to him, he is right you know.” Spinning, she nearly struck Weyoun, but caught herself. “You mean to say you are in league with him?” “Not at all,” Weyoun said submissively. “I only mean, that, from a practical point, he is right whether you or I like it. Odo has taken the link into seclusion, there is little use in denying that fact with him, he already knows, the truth -- no doubt Corizon had told him everything by now. So we should hear him out.” Taenix closed her eyes and took a deep breath, quietly asking the Founders for strength before responding. “Very well, say what you want.” Semil tipped his head in thanks before speaking. “Offer the Tarwani amnesty, agree to allow them autonomy and control over their resources in return for percentage they offered to give you. Then you must call a conference of all client races, allow them the opportunity to leave the Dominion if they wish....” “Keevan and the others will never...” “Keevan,” Semil spat the name, “must make a choice himself, we must all make a choice. You must tell them the truth Taenix. Tell them that Odo has taken the Link into seclusion and that he is not returning.” “You know he wants Eloi and the others to join him?” Taenix said. “That is why he commanded me to give you the device.” Semil paused. He had considered that possibility, but had not really dwelled on it. “Yes, I suspected that could be his wish. If Eloi wishes to join his people again, then I will not blame him. What he has taught us, though, is that we no longer need the Founders to maintain their wishes.” “Without the Founders, the Jem’Hadar will not follow us. The White yokes them, but if they believe we have betrayed them, that we no longer carry out the will of the Founders...” “Our Jem’Hadar serv...” “Your Jem’Hadar serve you because you have a Founder and because you have white. Never forget that Semil. They are savages who only live for the glory of the Founders. Once they learn that the Founders have abandoned us, that they have abandoned the Dominion.” “Then perhaps it is time for the Dominion to come to an end, as I said, we must allow everyone to choose their own destiny.” “And if I refuse?” “Then Eloi will speak directly to the Council.”

Season 5.5, Episode 2 "Affliction" SD 082013.25 Excalibur has left orbit of the now uninhabited mining colony, leaving behind a small detachment of marines, engineers and a squadron of fighters to continue securing the base until a squad of Starfleet Corps of Engineers are delivered to make final preparations for the array to go online. Drs. Dubois and Castell along with the other members of the away team are continuing to recover in sickbay after the anesthetic agent they used to attempt to regain control of the mining base had a deadly reaction with a chemical in the simulated atmosphere that led to the death of all of the indigenous miners. Meanwhile, Excalibur has learned that the Dominion has launched an assault on the Tarwani homeworld, a Dominion client world that had recently began peaceful protests in attempt to secure their independence. IC Date: February 22, 2386 TBS: 3 Days

Season 5.5, Episode 2 "Affliction"| Mission Brief, SD 082013.25 Engineering has been busy tracking down missing supplies and have found a lead, while Security/Medical are plotting their escape from the clutches of the mining leader Rhaz Ghal. They have devised a scheme to introduce a knockout gas into the ventilation system, but its not without risk. What will they do? 082513.txt

The ‘Round Table’ room of Camelot had been converted into a full on war room, something it had previously served as during the protracted Scorpiad Conflict. Gathered around the table, watching a holographic display, Vice Admiral Misha Abronvonvich furrowed his brow while the various members of the diplomatic and military members of what loosely consisted of the Joint Alpha Quadrant Allied Task Force watched on, each with varying reactions. Next to him, the Federation’s new ambassador, S’Lan, was watching with typical Vulcan stoicism. She had barely been on the station a few weeks, and already was upto her pointed ears in the rather arduous mirk that was the dark quadrant. Across from her, the Romulan fill-in, Enarrain Taer Vaedan seemed equally dispassionate. Essentially conscripted into his role, the Enarrain was serving as the Romulan representative both diplomatic and military until replacements were assigned, and had already privately expressed his distaste for his role to the Vice Admiral. Standing a meter or two to the left, Governor K’Vorlag -- the most senior member of the group -- seemed much less disapproving. The meaty Klingon bass voice was growling and grumbling in barely audible tones, and though Misha only spoke a trifle of Klingon, it was abundantly clear the intent. Everyone else was an assortment of Captains, Commanders and lower ranking officers. “It is unfortunate the Dominion has chose this course of action,” S’Lan said evenly. “I had hoped they would listen to reason.” “The Dominon,” K’Vorlag said, “Reason? That’s far too much to expect.” Abronvonvich simply continued to look at the display. The fleet was continuing to assault the orbital arrays, which were doing a surprisingly effective job of slowing the Dominion from moving into orbital bombardment position, still anyone with half a tactical inclination could see it was only a matter of time before the numbers game went in the Dominion’s favor. On some level he was not entirely sure why he was even continuing to watch. The Federation was not about to interfere directly, and so far the Dominion had refused their offers of mediation. (Also not entirely shocking.) “I assume,” Taer said, “That Taela is silent on the matter.” K’Vorlag grunted as S’Lan nodded. “The official line is that they’re still conducting military exercises and that there is nothing to be concerned about.” “Never say the Vorta weren’t gifted liars” K’Vorlag said with snarl. “And that worm Semil has gone missing.” Misha glanced over and shook his head. He knew bits and pieces of the governor’s relationship with the now Hundred functionary, and he sometimes wondered if that relationship was entirely healthy. “I’ve ordered the Rhongo fleet to take up sentry positions to help monitor the situation, the Clarent and Carnwenn fleets are on alert, though as you know Clarent is spread out trying to deal with the raiders.” “My forces are deploying,” K’Vorlag said with a hand wave, “in the area around Tarwan as well, they will be able to give us some more intelligence soon.” Taer frowned. “I asked for permission to redeploy our forces into a more defensive posture, but...” “Let me guess,” Misha said, “Homeworld too busy to respond.” “There has been a delay in processing, I am told, yes.” Misha shook his head. He was about to launch into a diatribe when one of his aides tapped him on the shoulder. “Admiral, I am sorry to disturb you, but...” Turning to see who was interrupting, Misha glowered. “Out with it...” Remaining composed, the Lieutenant took a deep breath. “With respect sir, you might want to hear this in private.” “Gods be cruel.” Misha said with a huff. “Very well, I’ll join you in the briefing room. Duty calls, gentlemen.” With knowing glances they visually excused the Admiral who followed the Lieutenant through the double doors to the briefing room at the aft of the Round Table room. Smaller and less ostentatious, the briefing room was primarily used for station purposes and was almost cramped in comparison. “So what is it, Lieutenant?” Short, red-haired and freckled, the young Lieutenant was surprisingly collected. It was his third full week on assignment as aide to the Admiral, and he’d learned to mostly tune out of the abrasive nature of the burly Russian already. “As you know, sir, with the Vatican still at DS9 making voyage repairs, we’ve been sorting through reports from Clarent fleet commanders directly.” Misha nodded. “Yes, I am rather aware of that, sonny.” “The Excalibur’s report just came in.” Misha groaned. Nothing ever came from that ship that didn’t give him a heartburn. “I thought everything was largely on schedule with their construction and for a change nothing terrible was going wrong with their mission.” “It was,” the Lieutenant said, “The situation was a little more... desperate on the mining base than we were lead to believe, but Excalibur was dealing with it well enough.” “Until?” “Apparently, from the reports, there was some sort of riot or something in the mining base proper, Swain didn’t have all the details yet, his people were still recovering. Anyway apparently his people medical and security people had been working on treating an outbreak of some left over Dominion bioagent when things got a little hairy and they were taken hostage. Nearest he could make out, his people tried to neutralize their hostage takers by introducing a knockout gas into the environmental systems.” “I see, and so while this is all fascinating, and I am sure Swain is a bit miffed about all this, I am still not clear why I care.” “Well, apparently, there was an unforeseen reaction with what they used and something in the atmopshere the Dominion had left over.” “Oh,” Misha said heavily. “How bad?” “The miners are all dead.” Misha blinked, taking a few moments to process that. “Dead? That’s some kind of reaction.” “Yes, Swain’s medical people were still piecing it together, though his CMO and her head assistant had been on the surface and were also affected, though luckily not as badly. They were still recovering when he phoned in. The array construction, though, was nearly complete anyway and the area involved was isolated enough that they were able to complete construction. He has asked for further orders.” The Russian crossed his arms in thought for a moment before speaking. “So, if I have this right, his people, in the course of defending themselves while rendering humanitarian aide accidentally wiped out an entire mining colony?” “Yes, sir.” “Well, while I am sure Fleet Command will be annoyed, not much to say there. Have him continue to follow procedures for investigating the matter and file a full report when he returns to base. Now, what to do with a mine full of dead bodies...” The Lieutenant blinked at the rather matter-of-fact reaction, but quickly regained his composure. “Captain Swain was already in the process of giving them respectful space burials. He inquired as to what he should do about securing the site and what to do about future incoming traffic for the actual mines. Apparently several freighters had arrived on schedule for regular ore pick ups already.” “Have him leave behind some of his fighters and an adequate security and engineering force to secure the base. If I recall, the Vatican is supposed to drop off a SCE team, yes?” The Lieutenant nodded. “Yes sir.” “Sad as it is, I see no need to alter that. As for the deliveries, just tell them the truth. There was an accident and the mine is no longer operational. Then Excalibur should proceed back to Camelot for further assignment and debriefing. As I said, we'll need a full report on the incident, but let him know I am not going to push the matter.” The Lieutenant looked at him. "Sir? Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but there were several hundred miners on the planet that are now dead." Surprisingly the Admiral's response was measured and even. "Yes, and as I said, I am sure HQ will want an explanation, but in the larger scheme of things, I have bigger worries. Besides, I figure I owe Swain one anyway." "Of course, sir. It wasn't my place to..." "Don't worry about it, now if you'll excuse me Lieutenant, I have to get back to the Dominion packing the Quadrant into the handbasket."

Purple masses slid slowly out of their blockade formations and into more threatening assault postures as they hovered above Tarwani Prime. The twenty four hour period that the Vorta overseer had given the people of Tarwani to surrender had come and gone with no sign of capitulation. Maliv, the Vorta in command of the Dominion fleet had reluctantly ordered his fleet into position. He had hoped, beyond hope, that the Tarwani would see reason, they would accept the terms offered to them and return to work. It served no one, he had reminded Taenix, for them to slaughter the Tarwani people, but he knew that they had little choice. Entering the command center of his dreadnaught, he took the eyepiece handed to him by his first and blinked to activate it. “Open a channel with the planet.” Automatically and without hesitation the communications officer did as he was commanded. A few moments later, Alana appeared before him. “Greetings.” She said calmly, far more so than he would have imagined. “Greetings,” Maliv said. “This is your final chance for mercy. Though I do not wish it, you have given us few options, and we have given you many chances at clemency. I beg you to consider the fate of your people.” “I have,” Alana said sharply. “We remain steadfast in our resolve. We will be free and it is I who offer you a chance at mercy, a chance to spare your troops. We are not as defenseless as you may think. As we speak, the planetary defense grid is coming online. Doubtless you are already aware, but it was designed to defend our planet, my home, from the Scorpiad. My people abhor violence. In all of our long years of servitude we have remained loyal, peaceful subjects; but that time is ending. We will defend ourselves, our land, our lives. If you do not leave our system and grant our demands for independence, you will be destroyed.” Maliv instantly glared at this First, who was already confirming that the massive defense grid had been activated. He seethed. The grid was protected by a multifractal code, and required Vorta genetic coding to activate. The Hundred. Seeing the confirmation, he took a deep breath and exhaled. “I will not be threatened by you. I warned you that violent resistance would only bring more death to your people. I have been commanded to bring you to heel, and by the Founders I will do as I must. I tell you again, surrender.” “Then so be it. May the gods grant you mercy.” The communications feed fizzled. Maliv felt what he could only assume to have been anger welling inside him. Gathering his strength, he looked to the matter at hand. “Destroy the defense grid and then move our forces into place. Begin deployment of ground troops as soon as the grid is disabled. Do not target industrial facilities, only population centers. Round them up. If their leaders survive, I want them brought to me.” “As you Command.” The Jem’Hadar were for all intents and purposes organic weapons. Mechanical in their resolve, they did as they were commanded. They lived and died on command. While some soldiers may have flinched at facing the onslaught of the upgraded defense grid, but not the Jem’Hadar. The fleet began moving into position as the arrays on the mobile defense platforms orbiting the planet erupted in shower of bursts of white energy streaking towards the swarm of vessels. Below, in a saferoom far beneath the capitol, Alana huddled with her council as they watched a monitor displaying the battle above. She had made her gambit, now she must wait and see if the gods showed mercy and favor.

Season 5.5, Episode 2 "Affliction" Mission Brief, SD 082013.13 Engineering has been busy tracking down missing supplies and have found a lead, while Security/Medical are plotting their escape from the clutches of the mining leader Rhaz Ghal. IC Date: February 19, 2386 TBS: None

Mission Briefing - August 18, 2013 - USS Excalibur is in orbit of the planet chosen for the new Communications Array that will connect the Alpha Quadrant to the Gamma Quadrant. A strange illness plaguing the miners has been identified and cured by Excalibur's medical team. Unfortunately, a rogue faction on the planet has taken the Away Team hostage with the intent to control the disease to wipe out those that oppose them and take over operations of the array. On the Excalibur, Engineering has discovered that shipments of supplies sent to the planet have been diverted elsewhere on the planet and are tracking their whereabouts. 081813.txt

“Report!” Taenix’s voice echoed shrilly through out the small chamber aboard the Dominion command dreadnauht DV-11234236-IJ. Maliv remained unperturbed. “I have delivered our terms and wait their response.” “And?” “We have received no response from the rebels.” He hated to use the word, but it was the only one that would suffice. “I see,” Taenix’s disembodied voice echoed in his ear. “The Council wishes to know how much longer until this situation is resolved.” “The Council,” he said sharply, “or that fool Keevan and his allies?” “The Council,” she said repeating herself, “desires this situation resolved as quickly as possible and for work to resume at all Dominion facilities on the planet.” For a time Maliv remained quiet. He had at his command nearly four-hundred battlecruisers and attack vessels, and three of the massive dreadnaughts that could blot out a star. A single one of them, he had countered to Taenix, would have been sufficient to quell the rebellion. She hadn’t agreed. A show of force, she countered, was needed. “I understand,” he finally said, a more conciliatory tone to his voice. “I have given them one standard cycle to come to a decision. If they do not capitulate, I will do as you -- as the Founders -- have ordered and begin the culling.” “We must not waiver in our resolve,” Taenix said, “The Founders do not wish to see their people suffer, but we have few choices, you know this.” “The Founders are wise in all things.” The refrain seemed somewhat forced, but Taenix did not push it further. “The local population should give you little resistance,” she said. “Perhaps they will see the error of their ways quickly and some of them can be spared.” “And what of their leaders? Shall they be executed -- assuming they aren’t killed in the bombardments?” “No, not summarily.” Maliv raised a brow. “I see, what shall I do with them?” “We have an opportunity to show that we are merciful as well as just. If they are willing to admit the depth of their mistakes, I will allow the sentence of death to be commuted.” “And if they don’t?” “Then they will be executed as traitors.” “I fear they will become martyrs should we make it a public execution.” “Then throw them out an airlock. I am empowering you Maliv to resolve this situation in the way you feel is consistent with the commands of the Founders. Tarawani must be brought back into our fold, and we must have the full command of its resources again.”

“You’ve lost your damn mind Alex.” Alexander Calypsos sat solemnly in the expansive office of Vice-Admiral Misha Abronvonvich being berated by his superior officer. He had expected it, frankly. He’d spent nearly an hour rehearsing what he would say when the Admiral called him into his office over his chief engineer’s refusal to follow his commands regarding station dockyard priorities and procedures. It was little wonder, he considered, that the crag-faced admiral had earned an ursine nickname. They were in what he counted as the fourth such rendition of the same refrain in the last ten minutes. Finally, Alexander held up a hand. “Admiral, if I may?” Misha’s face was red from blustering. He was unaccustomed to having to lecture the station’s commander and it was clearly upsetting to him that he had to do it now. What was it with the younger generation of commanders these days? There were days, he considered, that he truly missed Ah-Windu Corizon. Say whatever you wanted to about him, but he followed orders. “Fine! Say whatever it is you want to say.” Happy to finally get a word in edgewise, Alexander took a deep breath before reciting what he’d practiced. “I understand your point, sir. In fact, I partially agree with you on the subject. At a time when we’ve got rebellions cropping up and the raiders running roughshod over the area, we need to have our forces ready to respond. However, and I say this with all due respect, I cannot in good conscience direct my officers to follow this order. It goes against every treaty stipulation...” “Oh for hell’s sake Alex,” Misha said tiredly. “Stop acting like a damn Vulcan. That she-wolf of an engineer is just pissed I am messing with her fiefdom.” Alexander shook his head. “That may be true, sir, but she there is merit to her complaint. I pulled the relevant passag...” “Oh for god sake,” Misha said waving a hand wildly. “You’re really going to bring politics into this? The hell happened to you? I thought I knew you better than that, I thought you understood what it took to manage this hellhole of a quadrant. Listen I am sure there’s lines and lines of treaty regulations -- hell knowing the idiots who schemed up this place there’s no doubt a stipulation barring the use of a head on the third tuesday of each month because they didn’t want to offend some deity.” “Admiral,” It was odd for Alexander to refer to Misha by rank, as they’d long developed a rather amicable relationship that included weekly luncheons and late evenings at Ambrosia talking about anything other than duty, but he found it prudent now. “I understand your frustrations, but the facts at the facts. Now she’s willing to discuss prioritizing all military traffic over civilian, but the regs are very clear that Starfleet,Klingon and Romulan ships are to be given equal status, that means...” “I am not a cadet,” Misha growled. “Damn you. You know I can order you to do it, and you know damn well I will throw your ass in the brig if you don’t.” “With all due respect, Admiral. If you order me, I will be obliged to follow those orders, but I will do so under protest and I will be forced to contact your superiors to lodge my complaints should you ‘throw my ass in the brig.’ Additionally, if I did carry out your orders, then Erei’Riov t’Faelo would also be forced to make the same decisions and would undoubtedly file a formal protest with the Romulan military liaison, who would no doubt tell the Romulan ambassador -- who I think only needs the barest pretense to start a fight with you. And what we really need right now, if I may be so frank, is a full-blown diplomatic farcas with the Romulans over you being a blowhard. I am sure your superiors, Admiral, who’ve spent something like the last two years negotiating an agreement with the Romulans over Lyonesse will be absolutely thrilled that the bear woke the hornet’s nest over something so trivial in the larger scope of things.” Misha didn’t respond for what seemed an uncomfortably long moment, and Alexander wondered if he’d been a little too frank. “First it was that damned Swain, now you? What’s next my Yeoman?” “Admiral,” Alexander started before he was interrupted. “Oh shut up,” Misha said brusquely. “I know you’re right. It doesn’t mean I have to like it, dammit.” Alexander eased somewhat and exhaled. Silence swallowed the room for a moment before he spoke again. “So, these raiders are getting bolder.” “I know,” Misha said, clearly given over to his frustrations. “I swear to everything holy on five different planets, for a government that ruled for a thousand years so efficiently, they’re really screwing up.” Stifling a chuckle, Alexander nodded. “I think they’re in uncharted waters, to be honest. They’ve ever had their authority questioned, and I don’t think Vorta know what to do about it either. They’ve always been so assured in their purpose, but now... well ... in some ways I am almost sorry for them.” “I am not,” Misha said flatly. “In fact, I’d rather they just gave up the ghost en masse and got it over with, would make this all a little easier.” “Then we’d have more than just raiders to deal with.” “There you go again, ruining all my fun!” “Have I mentioned, sir, you have a strange idea of fun?” Misha smirked, clearly having moved beyond his grumpiness over the issue with the Camelot engineer. “You do bring up a good point though. If traders are considering avoiding the area, we need to rethink our patrols. Get in touch with Ambassador Samar and have him setup a sit down with traders, the Romulans and the Klingons. Maybe between everyone we can workout a plan to better organize our patrols around the actual flight plans of the traders and vice-versa.” Alexander coughed. “Not to be a snit, but wouldn’t this be a better task for one of your staff members?” A brief wave of annoyance flushed over the Admiral’s face before clearing. “Oh... sorry,” he said. “I sometimes forget you actually have a station to run. I’ll have Thomas set it up, though you should attend as well. I need someone in that room with a good head on their shoulders and who understands what this is really like.” The captain nodded. “Of course. One other thing...” “Yes?” “What are your plans for dealing with these raiders. They’re way too organized, way to well armed to just be thugs.” Misha bristled. The raiders were becoming an ever growing threat and something would need to be done with them. “I haven’t fully decided yet. Varen thinks we need to hit them hard, and its not that I don’t agree, but in my experience, that’s easier said than done.” Alexander knew that the Admiral had been involved with the Maquis and it went without saying that no one really wanted to relive that particular debacle. “I know you’re going to think I am crazy,” Misha said, “But there are days I really do wish Corizon was back in the uniform. He was a handful, to be sure, and I don’t miss explaining him away everytime he riled some politician or higher up, but he was damn good at sniffing out messes like this; hell knowing him, he would have already been knee deep in getting rid of the sorry sons of a bitches.” “And broken a half-a-dozen regulations in the process, no doubt.” Misha shrugged. There wasn’t any point in arguing it, in fact, had it only been a half-a-dozen and not a full dozen regulations, Misha would have likely considered himself lucky. “And what do our allies think?” The surly Russian’s grumpy demeanor returned in full force at mention of their allies. “K’Vorlag’s the only sensible one, but he doesn’t have the force to do anything about it. He’s asked Chancellor Martok for more ships, but Martok is hesitant. He’s worried that the High Council will frown on throwing more resources into the quadrant. The Klingons aren’t merchants and they barely do any business here; I can’t blame him, but doesn’t make my job easier.” “What about the Romulans? They have...” “Oh screw them. Yes, they have a base on the planet, but so long as its safely protected by Avalon, I am fairly sure they could care less. Their current government -- which seems to change more often than I change underwear -- is reluctant for the same reasons the Klingons are, truth be told, I think they’re afraid to put many of their big ships away from homeworld, least things go to hell in a handbasket at home. On top of that, the Khre’Riov is about to be transferred back home, and she’s taking a good chunk of her forces with her, so I think she’s even more reluctant to commit them long term. This on top of them delaying Lyonesse has really got a burr up my ass if you hadn’t noticed.” “I had,” Alexander said with a grin. “So t’Laeii got her ticket out? Good for her I suppose. Do we know who they’re replacing her with?” “As if the Romulans would tell us.” “Good point.” Though that all seemed to explain why he was spoiling for for a fight with the Romulans over the repairs. “And I assume the Dominion is mum on the matter?” “Of course. You know the Vorta, never shut up when you want them to, never say what you want them too.” Alexander nodded. “Well there’s always the Hundr...” “Absolutely not.” Misha bellowed. “Didn’t you just complain about Corizon? The day I go begging that lackwit Semil for help...” So he was fine letting Corizon do his dirty work for him, well that cleared some things up. “I see, well then what exactly do you propose to do about it? We’re stretching our resources pretty thin already, especially with having to do fabrication for your new arrays in addition to Lyonesse, remind me again why DS9 couldn’t handle some of this?” “The Romulans,” Misha spat, “Insisted on being able to inspect anything going through the wormhole to make sure we weren’t installing some sort of BLOW UP THE WORMHOLE device -- where the hell would they get an idea like that anyway?” “Corizon.” Alexander didn’t even bother mincing words. “Bah,” the Admiral grunted. “They knew about that, hell they signed off on it. Not that I told you that. They only give a crap when it’s convenient for them.” “I am sure they say the same about us,” he added, trying to steer the conversation away from the Romulans, and onto productive matters. “At any rate, it’s put a strain on Avalon and Camelot’s resources. I am sure you’ve read both the Colonel and my own reports. And if traders stop coming through, our resource problem will only get worse. We need to put a stop to these raiders.” “We need someone in the field,” Misha said. “Problem is most of these rats go to ground the second a Starfleet ship gets near. They have to operating out of one of the newly freed ports no doubt. For now I don’t know what more we can do than step up our patrols. I’ve asked Fleet for more resources, but they’re hesitant...” It was becoming a theme. “Let me guess, they’re afraid of pissing off the Romulans, the Klingons or Dominion?” “We have a winner.” “You know I don’t envy you at all.” “No one does.”

The mood on the command deck of Camelot Station was dour. Commander Corris Sprint looked towards his new executive officer, Commander Arden Cormoran. The short, skinny first officer had been aboard less than two months, but had already made a strong impression on Corris -- and for a change -- it seemed that Starfleet had somehow let a competent office be assigned to the station. They had met briefly before the Dominion War, but this had been their first assignment together, and while he had always appreciated his former executive officer -- the effusive, boyish Commander Blair -- Arden had earned the trust and respect of most of the senior staff by making it clear he would take a hands off approach to management and let them do their jobs. A welcome policy, given that the Vice-Admiral had begun to take a more hands-on style of management, much to the consternation of Camelot’s command staff. “Have we heard any report back from the Captain Varen’s group yet?” Arden said looking over a PADD. Sprint nodded, and tapped on his console to bring up the information. “The report just came in a few minutes ago. The raiders again, sir. The Vatican was able to drive them off, but they suffered minor damage. They’ve requested permission to escort the freighters to New Bajor. I forwarded the request to the Admiral.” “I am sure that will please him.” Arden said dryly. “More raiders, and so close to us. Getting awfully bold don’t you think?” Corris nodded. “That’s the fourth attack this week. I heard from some of the freighter captains they’re thinking about avoiding this area if they continue like this. And some are refusing to leave DS9.” “Ever since the Dominion put that damn fleet in orbit of Tarawani, this whole sector has gone to hell.” There was little use in disputing that particular fact, though Corris wasn’t entirely sure what could be done about it. Admiral Abronvonvich had ordered Federation vessels to widen their patrols to cover more areas, but that had caused more trouble than it solved. The Romulans and Klingons had committed their forces to patrolling as well, but they had barely a battalion at their disposal. Meanwhile a dozen of the Federation’s best ships were out on missions, and the rest were being held back in defense of the station, something both Corris and Arden, as well as the Captain had told the Admiral was unnecessary. He had reminded them, rather forcefully and repeatedly, that defense of the station and the Federation’s colonies in the area were more important. Arden finally shook his head and returned to the PADD. “Have we heard anything from the Excalibur?” Corris looked up for a moment. While that question had been asked numerous times over the history of the station, it had not yet come up since they’d been dispatched on their latest mission, and it had never been asked by Arden. “Nothing of note,” Sprint responded. “Their last transmission was a routine update a few days ago. They’re continuing construction. Apparently the mining colony had oversold themselves a bit, but nothing Captain Swain thought was too big of an impediment. He did request some information from the Dominion archives. We were actually about to send out data burst in a few hours. Why?” “Just curious,” Arden demurred. “I am friends with Asher.” Corris nodded, and made a mental note on that subject. In his experience friendship with the commanding officer of the Excalibur was a bit of a two-edged sword, particularly in this quadrant. “Ah,” he said, putting aside his curiosity. “I’ll let you know if anything comes up.” “Thanks,” Arden said warmly. “Appreciate it. Speaking of Tarawani, what have we heard about that debacle?” Corris opened his mouth to respond when the relative idle of the command center erupted. “Absolutely not!” Came the shrill, unmistakable voice of the stations Chief of Engineering, Akal t’Faelo. “If you think I am going to do that, for even a moment...” “Listen Akal,” the second voice was equally unmistakable as that of the station’s commanding officer, Captain Alexander Calypsos. “I understand your point of view, really I do...” “Then you can tell that overbearing veruul of an Enriov to -- what is the Lloanna’na term -- ah, ie... go to hell!” Clearly having already had the same conversation all the way up the lift, Alexander looked ready to crawl in a hole. Sensing the need to defuse the situation, Arden glanced to Corris before speaking. “What’s the problem?” Alexander opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Akal was marching towards the two other senior officers. “Your veruul that calls himself and Admiral has ordered me to change my repair and refit priorities to give precedence over Rihannsu and Klingon flagged vessels to au lloann’na garbage scowls!” Arden lifted a brow, wondering if that was literal or figurative. He nodded slowly. “I see...” Akal continued unabated. “If he thinks I am going to take orders from him...” “Listen Akal, I told you, just make the man happy and he’ll go away. He’s in one of his moods.” “Out of the question,” her voice barely below a shout. “He’s not my commanding officer. Au Lloann’na chain of command is very clear. So unless au are prepared to give me that order on au own...” Alexander sighed, making his own way over. “I told you, if you don’t do it now, he’ll just order me to do it anyway and then we’ll be right back here, only you’ll be more pissed at me.” That didn’t seem to pacify the fiery Romulan engineer. While Arden had been hesitant about the nature of a joint crew, he’d quickly learned to respect Akal, as she took her work far more seriously than any number of Starfleet officers. “What’s his reasoning?” Arden asked. “I mean what is he telling you anyway?” Corris for his part was remaining quiet, but watching for the aforementioned Admiral to barrage in. No doubt to speak to the Captain about the situation. “Oh,” Akal said waving her hands. “Au know, something about how this is a Federation facility, so Federation vessels should be served first and foremost. He said something about making sure they were able to respond to threats quicker or something.” “The Admiral,” Alexander said in a more authoritative tone. “Is concerned that Starfleet’s ability to respond properly to this ongoing raider problem is being hampered by the current arrangement of first come first serve. Sin...” “He’s being a baby,” Akal said bitterly. “I think he’s just mad because I told him in no uncertain terms that this yacht was low priority and that my dockmaster would not move mountains to repair a minor issue when we have voyage repairs for other vessels to make.” “Now Akal, that was months ago.” She said nothing, instead preferring to stand crossed-armed, glowering at no one in particular. “Well,” Arden finally said. “She’s right.” “What?” “He can’t order her too.” “He can order me to order her, you know that. And is this really worth starting a fight with him over? I know he’s been meddling lately, but I don’t think he means anything by it.” Corris frowned. His own personal experience with the Admiral’s meddling had been significantly less benign and had included a continued review in station communications protocol following the incident with the Excalibur several weeks prior. “And you can tell him no.” Alexander looked at Arden sidelong. “I am sorry but I am not going to get thrown in the brig for insubordination over the dockyard priority list.” “Its not insubordination if the order is against treaty stipulations,” Corris spoke up to the surprise of almost everyone in the room. “What do you mean?” Alexander said. “Treaty stipulations?” Corris took a deep breath. “Both the Avalon Accords and the subsequent agreements between the Federation, Romulan, Klingon and Dominion governments are very specific in their intent that this station, while largely maintained and operated by the Federation and Starfleet is a free port. Additionally, the agreements between the Federation and the Romulan governments concerning Lyonesse station make it abundantly clear that Federation and Romulan vessels are to be treated with equal status at any joint-operated facility in the Gamma Quadrant.” Arden tipped his head to Corris. No one was going to argue with the longest tenured member of the command staff about the complexities of the various series of agreements that governed the continued operation of Camelot and in the future Lyonnesse station. “So there you have it, you reason to tell him no.” Alexander frowned. “I’ll talk to him about it.” “Thank you,” Akal said, softening. “I am more than willing to discuss modifying the queue system to prioritize military vessels of all three governments, but I am not going to unilaterally make a change just because some veruul with a burr up his rear end wants me too.” “I’ll see what I can do, Corris can you forward me the relevant sections you mentioned?” Corris nodded, already working on it. Arden was continually impressed by the man’s efficiency. “Now,” Alexander said, clearly exhausted. “Unless anyone else wants to start a slap fight with the bear, I’ll be in my office thinking of all the ways to end my career.” Akal rolled her eyes and the others shrugged. After the captain had headed off to his office on the subdeck below the command center, Akal and the two human commanders remained, silently wondering who would speak first. Unsurprisingly, it was Arden. “Give him some slack Akal,” he said gently. “He’s in a no-win situation.” She remained unmoved. “Maybe if he stood up to that bully of an admiral,” her voice was tinged with a mixture of annoyance and genuine bile. “We wouldn’t have to have these sorts of arguments. It’s his station after all.” “Did Admiral Day and Captain Sorehl have that kind of a relationship?” Arden’s question caught Corris off guard, but after a moment he shook his head. “No. Admiral Day let Captain Sorehl manage the day to day functions. He was more focused on the bigger picture.” “Eh,” Arden said, “the old bear’s chaffing behind his desk I think.” Corris remained silent and continued working. Arden took his silence for what it was and returned to Akal, who was still rather perturbed. “Listen, if he comes down to your office and starts pushing your buttons, just tell him you’re busy. Don’t antagonize him. Call for me if you need too.” “This would never happen on a Galae station.” “Oh,” Arden said cattily despite himself. “Would the Admiral just have you thrown out an airlock if you didn’t do what he told you to when he told you to?” She rolled her eyes. “We’re not Kling’hannsu fvadt.” He smirked. “I was teasing. Anyway, I suspect mother bear will be along soon to discuss the issue with the Captain, so you’d best run along.” The Romulan rolled her eyes before nodding. “Very well,” she said. “And hann’yyo Corris. As always au continue to be a credit to au race.” Corris smiled bashfully. “Anytime.”

Dense forests had once covered nearly all of Tarwani, it’s nitrogen rich atmosphere fueling plantlife like a greenhouse. Once teeming with billions of species of plants and animals, it had been an idyllic paradise. Then the Dominion came. Their surveys detected large deposits of rare element used in weapons and materials needed to synthesize ketracel white, in addition it was located strategically for trade routes. The Tarwani had initially, like so many, welcomed the Dominion. The Vorta had come promising riches and technological advancement; and they indeed shared their advanced technology with them. Rivers that the Tarwani had never dared tame were yoked for energy, the dark forests were penetrated and plundered as the Dominion showed them how to mine their resources. At first the Tarwani had been all too happy to labor, but then as the extractive nature of the Dominion became clearer, they grew restless. The Dominion demanded tribute in the form of nearly all of the extracted minerals, leaving the Tarwani with only a fraction of the goods to trade to other races. When a group of their leaders finally refused the tribute the Dominion offered them two choices. Either they could join the Dominion willingly, and continue to give most of their resources to the Dominion, or they could be yoked as easily as the rivers by the Jem’Hadar. As they soon learned their story was far from unique. Dozens of species that they were introduced to by their Vorta ‘friends’ shared their plight: join the Dominion or face slavery and extermination. Stories like the plight of the Teplan, who’d resisted the Dominion and were rewarded with a terrible plague that left their civilization in ruins, made the choice easier. Only one of the major clans of Tarwani spoke against Dominion membership; the Jem’Hadar silenced them in brutally efficient fashion. For their passivity and ‘service’ to the Founders, the Tarwani were given relative autonomy over their governance and allowed to control the meager portion of their resources not allocated directly to the Founders. Alana Th’Shaen sat quietly considering that arrangement in the sweeping open air office of the eighteenth floor of what was officially known as Local Government Control Center 598eu-P9A. It was unusual for a Dominion building, as they had allowed the locals to construct and design it. Most buildings the Vorta designed were in contrast utilitarian, usually with few or no windows. LGCC 598eu-P9A, or as the locals called it ‘the Tower,’ was a sloping organic design with many windows and open-air terraces. Alana exhaled. The Vorta had only allowed the somewhat ostentatious design only to ‘honor’ the Tarwani for nearly a century of good behavior. She had been elected by the diet of clan leaders to represent her people in affairs with the Dominion nearly two years ago, a position once held by her father. Her election had been predicated on her promise to gain more autonomy and greater control of resources, given the Dominion’s weakened state. At first she’d approached the issue conventionally. Informing the Vorta Adjutant of their request. He had, unsurprisingly proven averse. Around that time, she’d also been approached by individuals claiming to represent various governments of the Alpha Quadrant offering to supply her people with weapons should they wish to overthrow the Dominion. Violence, however, had never been the Tarwani solution and she had in few uncertain terms rejected their offer. While violent resistance by others the men had claimed to have supported had been somewhat successful in securing freedom from the Dominion, most of the planets involved had been relatively fringe planets of little tactical or material value to the Dominion. Other planets, she insisted, had successfully negotiated their exit from the Dominion, or had been abandoned by the Dominion voluntarily as they engaged in what the Vorta Council referred to as a ‘strategic reassessment of assets.’ The Vorta Adjutant, however, was quick to remind her that Tarwani was not planet the Dominion would or frankly could give up. That was when Semil had come to her. Semil was much like every other Vorta she had met. His spoke with a sweet voice that belied the hardness of his resolve. His pale eyes bore little emotion, yet within him she sense something different, something she could not quite place. It had been that something which had caused her to listen to him. He claimed to serve the Hundred, a group of rogue Founders who sought to change the Dominion, to ‘alter its course of self-destruction and of hate.’ She had heard of them. It had been nearly six cycles since the Vorta Council, then under the direction of Keevan, had declared them heretical and began a purge, blaming them for a series of devastating attacks on Jem’Hadar and Vorta Cloning facilities. She had questioned Semil on those attacks, and he had protested so strongly she couldn’t help but to believe him. He had confirmed to her what rumors had long said -- that those attacks had been carried out by the Scorpiads in prelude to their invasion of the Dominion. Still there was a lingering unease about trusting any Vorta. Peaceful resistance, he had said, was the only way to accomplish the goal of a free, independent Tarwani. They had began slowly and small. Small groups of workers began to ask their Dominion supervisors for better working conditions, while her government requested more autonomy and a larger share of their resources, and at first those demands had been met. Work weeks were slashed and safety had improved marginally. The Dominion had further allowed them greater control over their judiciary but balked at returning more resources to the local people. Encouraged by their victories, and at Semil’s suggestion, the Tarwani asked for even more. The Dominion had refused those requests. That was when the Tarwani began first small scale protests that grew into larger ones. When the Vorta Adjutant refused to grant their requests, the protests grew and grew until every major mining, shipping and manufacturing center on the planet was at a full scale strike. Alana sighed. Perhaps she should have taken the Dominion’s offer then. They offered near autonomy and an increase to nearly ten percent of all mined resources, as well as allowing looser trade restrictions with non-Dominion sources. It was a good offer, and Semil had all but begged her to take it. But the Dominon was weak, her council said, and this was their best, perhaps only chance, to break free their binding. “I told you,” Semil said, breaking her train of thought, “that Taenix would only be pushed so far. She’s no fool.” Her eyes narrowed. “We cannot simply surrender now. We’ve come too far.” Semil’s weak eyes flickered for a moment. He had been as surprised as anyone when a massive fleet arrived in orbit. While the Dominion had attempted blockades of the various systems that had attempted succeed, they had never made such a show of force. (Likely, he noted somewhat matter of factly, because they didn’t need to. It wasn’t as if any of these worlds had the means to resist a full-scale Jem’Hadar assault.) They had made their demands clear: either the Tarwani accepted their now far sweeter terms and returned to work, or the Jem’Hadar would begin culling them until they did. “You don’t believe that,” he said. It didn’t take a telepath to know it, either. “Taenix will follow through with that threat, of that I assure you. She cannot afford to lose your planet, and the Council is already fractured as it is, if she were to allow you to simply leave...” Alana held her hand up. They had been over this now a dozen times. “They cannot afford to replace us, either.” “You would rather die?” That was a strange notion to Semil, and one he had not considered. “Death,” Alana said darkly, “is meaningless to us now. We have tasted our freedom, and we cannot go back now. If we simply cave to their demands, if we let them bully us now, then we will never be free of them. The Dominion is weak now, but if we wait, they will grow strong again...” He wondered if she truly believed that, but decided not to press her further. “Very well then, if that is the choice your people have made. I can no longer be of assistance to you.” Alana’s voice was still dark tinged with hurt, regret and anger. “So now you abandon us? I should have expected that. Courage is not a word your people have ever known.” Semil’s face remained expressionless. “I came to you to offer help in your struggle against the Dominion, but if you are determined to see the end of your species, there is little point in me continuing to advise you or your people.” “What other choice do we have? If we bow to them now, now after all we have accomplished, we might as well be dead. You wouldn’t understand. “I should have taken the outsiders up in their offer, at least then we’d be able to defend ourselves. Go. I should have known better to trust one of you. It cost my people once, and now it costs again.” For a very brief moment, Semil’s expression shattered, Alana’s words lashing at him like a whip. “If that is your decision,” he said quietly, before restoring his placid facade. “I wish I could offer you more help, but violence will not solve your problems. If you resist them violently, Taenix will be forced. I told you, I do not think she wants this, but she has no choice.” “And neither do I, but you do.” Semil lifted a brow quizzically, tipping his head to one side. “I do not see how.” “You have ships and guns and Jem’Hadar of your own. You promised me that the Hundred would help us in anyway you could. Well there you have it. The outsiders from the Alpha Quadrant cannot or will not interfere, but you can. Call upon your fleets. Do you think Taenix will risk an all out conflict with them over our planet alone?” He closed his eyes and exhaled. He had worried when this would come. “I cannot do that.” “Yes,” Alana said emphatically, “You can. You choose not to. There’s a difference.” “No,” he said, “I cannot. There is no choice. Keevan’s crusade against us, as well as the war against the Scorpiad depleted our forces. We have only begun to rebuild, and if we show ourselves, we risk an even greater conflict...” “So in the end,” her voice was acid, “you’re just like any other Vorta. I don’t know why I am surprised.” Semil looked away. Vorta were rarely, if ever, what other species could refer to as emotional. They simply weren’t given those predispositions by their makers. Yet he could not help but feel hurt. For a several moments, he remained silent, considering his response. Finally, gathering himself, he replied in the hallmark stoic evenness of his people. “Alana,” he said calmly. “I have done everything I can for your people, but we cannot become involved directly. If we do, and we lose the battle, your people will an even heavier price, and I will be powerless to help you and the many other races we are working with the bring about change in the Dominion.” Her temper flared, until she caught his inflexion. “Wait,” she said, “you can’t help us directly...” “That is correct.” Semil tipped his head. “But you could help us indirectly.” “Explain.” “I am sure you know as well as I do that during the Scorpiad War, the planetary defense grid was updated significantly, unfortunately it remains locked out...” The Vorta’s expression remained unchanged, though Alana thought she saw the fleetingness of smiles cross his face. “They would still be able to beam Jem’Hadar to the surface,” he said plainly, “thought you could at least defend yourselves without our direct involvement, or taking up arms yourselves. I believe that Taenix is loathe to lose resources in this conflict, perhaps they will be willing to consider more favorable terms.” “So our dream of complete freedom is dead then?” It was more statement than question. In her heart, she had always known that dream was unrealistic, but it was still so incredibly close. “I give you my word that I will continue to help you in any way I can,” Semil said solemnly. “As I told you when we first met. I serve the Founders not because I must, but because I choose to serve them. We want what is best for all of the peoples of the Gamma Quadrant, and eventually, I believe your people will be truly free, but that day is not today.”

Season 5.5, Episode 2 "Affliction" Mission Brief, SD 062013.02 Excalibur remains in orbit of the mining asteroid where they've been working to setup a long-range communications array. Medical and security have also been involved in humanitarian aid, as they've found the colony to be in far more dire condition than the original mission vitae had indicated. A team from security was readying to check on the progress of the worksite, when medical found an unusual synthetic bioagent in the patients they were helping in what passed for a sickbay. The team has decided to investigate the area where the miner had been working. IC Date: February 10, 2386 TBS: None

Author's Note: This log occurs before Excalibur left for her current mission. Though his stateroom was one of the few aboard the Excalibur equipped with a hot water shower, Asher Swain had found that a long sonic shower on its lowest setting, a subtle pulsing that thrummed just at the edge of his hearing range was incredibly more relaxing than soaking in a vat of his own skin cells. Besides, there was something still mildly exotic about sonic showers, given he’d never seen one until he went to the academy. After a half hour or so, Asher shut off the sonic. He stepped out, skipped the towel and went straight for the Talarian silk pajama pants hanging from a hook. While not as soft or luxurious as Tholian Silk, the lilac colored pants did well enough at their intended function, and unlike the aforementioned silk of Tholian origin, didn’t creep Asher out. For whatever reason, silk made from giant hook spiders’ webs bothered him a lot less than that spun from the Tholians themselves. Stopping at the vanity, he rubbed at his freshly shaven face and ran a hand through his hair. One thing he would say for a real shower, though, he always thought his hair looked better when real water was involved. Asher grabbed a simple black band and pulled his hair back before heading into the living room. While he waited for tea to steep, he picked up a PADD with the latest newsfeeds from the Alpha Quadrant. The first story caused his heart to sink. Rioting on Cardassia Prime Unrest erupted on Cardassia Prime and quickly spread through the capitol to outlying cities late last night. According to local news outlets and the official Cardassian Information Network, protests turned violent as armed civilians began clashing with Cardassian Civil Police trying to corral the throngs of people turning out to protest new policies designed to curb the growing black market. Looting and fires have broken out across the planet and the unrest is quickly spreading. Prime Minister Mahkal Sraen of the ruling Eagat Inaau party has called for quick action by leftist Castellan Alem Racet, who faces re-election in the coming year, to quell the violence before it spins out of control. Officials the Federation have urged peaceful resolution and patience, but have issued a travel advisory for the entire region. The report went on, but he didn’t read any further. Riots. That was the absolute last thing anyone needed. All the more reason, he considered, for their upcoming mission. “Something wrong?” Asher had almost forgotten he wasn’t alone. “I suppose that depends,” he said turning towards his bedroom. “On your point of view.” Emerging from the bedroom was the lanky, slender figure of Commander Arden Cormoran. “Oh?” “Rioting has broken out on Cardassia,” Asher said with a frown. Arden came more fully into the living room and settled on the couch, pulling up a blanket around him. “Well that is troubling news,” he said. “Though I suppose it could be worse.” Smiling, Arden pulled Asher down to the couch into his embrace. “At least I am not assigned there anymore.” “True,” Asher swain letting Arden pull him down. “I have to admit I was more than a little surprised to see you.” “I was waiting to tell you in person,” Arden said, playing with a stand of Asher’s hair, “but you were on assignment when I called the first time, and then off to Deep Space 9, I figured I’d just wait and surprise you. Though, I have to say I am little hurt you didn’t ask for me as your own XO.” Asher turned and gave Arden a sour look. “First, you know I wouldn’t … couldn’t do that. Second, its not like I was exactly given a choice. Besides, you’d already been assigned from the sound of it.” Leaning forward, Arden kissed Asher on the forehead. “Have you always been so serious? I was joking Asher. I know you’d never let me be your XO. You like me too much.” “Like” Asher said feigning annoyance, “is an awfully strong word.” “Oh,” Arden said. “I see how it is. It would be a shame if your maintenance requests got lost.” Grinning, Asher leaned back into Arden. “You wouldn’t have me to deal with, but Miranda and I wouldn’t cross her.” Arden smirked. “I am looking forward to meeting her,” he said. “What are you planning on making for dinner anyway?” “I hadn’t really thought about it yet, to be honest.” “You can’t just replicate something you know.” Asher frowned and got up to collect his tea. “And why not,” he said taking a drink. Rolling his eyes, Arden shook his head. “Because I was looking forward to some your actual cooking.” Asher took a drink of the tea and sighed. He had grown up on a low-tech world, founded by individuals who eschewed modern technology in favor of a more ‘simplistic’ way of life. One of the side-effects was that he’d learned to actually cook, something that fewer and fewer humans apparently knew how to do on their own. “Alright, alright,” Asher said finally. “I’ll think of something.” Arden grinned, widely. “Good.” “So tell me more about her.” “Miranda?” “Yes,” Arden said, lazily stretching out on the couch as Asher sipped patiently at his tea. “She’s very …” Asher paused for a moment to consider Miranda Hawthorne. They had barely even had a chance to talk since she’d arrived aboard, and to be honest, the longest conversation they’d had outside of ‘work’ was when they’d met at Quark’s back on Deep Space Nine. After a moment he continued. “She’s very efficient,” he said neutrally. “To be honest I haven’t had much time to get to know her. She spent most of the first part of the trip settling in and getting to know her department. “I suppose it wouldn’t have been so bad if she were just having to learn that, but she has to learn the ship too, and well you know me...” Arden snorted. “You hate command, I don’t know why you ever let them talk to you into it the first place Asher.” Asher took another drink of tea and shrugged. There wasn’t much use in arguing with Arden about anything, but especially not when he was right. “Well I hope she works out for you,” Arden said softly. “Not that I have to worry about it, but you’d drive me crazy.” “I do my best.” “Now what about my new boss,” Arden said. “I’ve barely met him and I’ve been here, what three weeks now?” “Captain Calypsos?” “Yes.” “I’ve only met him a few times myself. He seems nice enough. Never heard anything bad about him. I mean, hell, he’s been out here almost two years now and hasn’t had a major incident.” Arden nodded. He’d been apprehensive about the assignment to Camelot. While he was certainly happy to be close to Asher again, the place had a bit of a reputation, and while being a military liaison officer on Cardassia Prime wasn’t exactly the most glam job, it certainly hadn’t proved the be the career killer this Quadrant had been. “Well that Corris fellow seems to be on top of things,” Arden added. “As do the rest of the crew, at least the Starfleet ones anyway.” “You don’t trust the Klingons or the Romulans?” Arden curled his lips and looked away for a moment. “Not yet,” he said lowly. “I know you don’t understand, but you haven’t had to wonder if they were going to be there when you needed them like I have the last few years. Its not that I don’t trust them individually, I mean, I do, sort of...” He looked up to see Asher looking at him skeptically over his tea cup. “I don’t know them yet, but their governments? That I do know, and what you can always count on the Romulans to do, is be unpredictable.” “But what about the Klingons,” Asher pushed. “They’ve never not been there for us when we really needed them, and they’ve been very reliable out here, from what I’ve heard.” “I am less worried about them, to be honest. I just don’t like the idea of a joint crew, you know that.” Asher sighed and finished his tea. The old mistrusts of years of on and off warfare between the Federation and the Romulans were still fresh for many people, and Asher knew that it took more than a few years of playing nice for people like Arden to move on. “I think I’ll make something with fish from Avalon,” Asher said shifting the conversation. “I am sure Augustus won’t mind running down there and getting me something.” “Augustus,” Arden said, a tinge of something strange in his voice, “You mean Petty Officer Quintus.” “Is that,” Asher said making his way back to the couch and rustling Arden’s short, auburn hair. “Jealousy?” As if it were beneath him, which is wasn’t, Arden swatted Asher’s hand away and pulled the covers up around himself again. “Jealous? Of a twenty-something enlisted officer? You don’t ever mix business and pleasure. “Or at least you didn’t used to.” Asher rolled his eyes and went over to his bookshelf to look for something. “You’re so dramatic.” “I’m not the one with handwritten notes from my Yeoman that smell of jasmine, thanking me for everything.” “So you are jealous,” Asher said laughing. “Its not like that.” “Oh,” Arden said, more accusatory than he intended. “So what is it like?” “I managed to pull a few strings and got him access to the holosuites on DS9,” Asher said finding the book he was looking for, a heavy, leather wrapped tome. “And helped him arrange to see his boyfriend.” “I never took you as a romantic.” Asher snorted and laid the book down. “He’s a sweet boy, besides, you should be glad he likes me.” “Oh,” Arden said cloyingly, “Why is that?” “His father is a very important person, well at least for your career interests.” “Oh? I don’t believe I know anyone named Quintus.” “His father is Akena Le-Gran, you know former secretary of state, hero of the...” Arden was starring. “I didn’t know he had son.” Rustling Arden’s hair again and pulling himself away from the couch, Asher headed into the bedroom to find something to wear other than a towel. “I didn’t either, apparently Le-Gran and Corizon were old friends.” “Then why the hell is his son an enlisted man? I mean surely...” “Well the story I heard,” Asher said, knowingly indulging Arden’s taste for gossip, “is that Le-Gran and the boy’s mother -- Julia or something, who I suppose was also some sort of Admiral -- never really got along all that well, anyway Augustus mostly grew up with her. Apparently he ran off and enlisted to annoy her. Well Le-Gran caught wind of it, and had Corizon take him on as his Yeoman. This of course apparently only annoyed his mother more, because her and Corizon also went back a good ways.” “My my,” Arden said, almost schoolgirl in his tone. “Corizon really did get around.” “Did you ever met him?” “Once or twice,” Arden said thoughtfully. “He was at a few security conferences I attended right after the war. I might have met him before that, but I don’t really remember. He was a nice enough fellow. Calm, quiet. ” Asher nodded. “Well I would have prefered if he hadn’t left such a mess here. I mean Augustus is fine and all, but good lord, do you have any idea how screwed up this entire quadrant is?” “Yes,” Arden said. “You should have seen the packet of reports I got when I was assigned to Camelot. Do you know just how many different powder kegs they’re sitting on? It wasn’t just Corizon that was doing whatever the hell he wanted out here. Don’t get me wrong, he certainly was the main attraction of this three ring circus, but my god.” Returning from his bedroom wearing a simple grey tunic and slacks, Asher made his way to the chevron shaped desk across from the sitting area. “The irony,” he said, “is that they assigned that salty bear of an Admiral to ride herd on this fiasco in waiting, and it seems to me, he’s just as knee deep in it as Corizon was... not that I said that.” It was unlike Asher to qualify his remarks in such a way, and Arden sat up on the couch. “I know you said you two had a disagreement...” Asher waived hand. “It’s nothing,” he said typing. “Forget I said anything. Just a touchy subject.” Making a note to come back to that after a few drinks, Arden let it go and settled back into the couch. “So how long will you be gone on your next mission?”

Season 5.5, Episode 2 "Affliction" - Mission Brief, SD 022013.17 - Excalibur has arrived in Alciest and has beamed a team down to the mining colony to begin preparing the site for construction. Medical has been asked to assist the colonial facilities as the colony is running low on medical supplies. The team beamed down to find a less than pristine facility and were looking for the colonial leader as we paused.

Neither the Vorta or the Jem’Hadar had ever had much need for office furniture. Rhaz’Ghal sat in his makeshift chair that he’d fashioned out of an old mining bucket. He was large Altorian male, shaped like barrel. His dark auburn hair flowed into a beard that was intricately braided. Deep blue eyes were sunken into his face rimmed by dark circles. He wore a frown that somehow seemed more depressing than his office. “What do you want?” “That’s not a very nice way to greet an old friend.” Rhaz’Ghal grunted and leaned back into his chair. “I didn’t know that friends let their friends medical supplies get raided.” Across from him, a tall, slender woman dressed in a simple short-sleeved white tunic, with leather lacing across the stomach and deep maroon leather pants was leaning against a large support beam. Her long raven black hair was pulled back neatly into a ponytail, and her silver eyes gleamed in the low lighting of the room. “Well,” she said with a cheshire grin, “I told you that a lack of payment would result in a lack of services.” The Altorian grimaced. “We can’t afford to pay you right now, I told you that. I told you that we’d have it soon though.” “Aww,” the female said sickeningly sweet. “That’s too bad. I already gave you two extensions, which is two more than I normally give. So until you pay me what’s owed, plus interest, you’re no longer under my protection.” “Interest!? You never said anything about interest.” “Oh, didn’t I? Well I do reserve the right to change my mind at any time.” “But,” Rhaz’Ghal said standing. “We... we had an agreement!” Cocking her head to one side, the female looked even more amused than she already was, and laughed. “Oh, you’re adorable. You do know how this sort of ‘agreement’ works? It’s called extortion for a reason. You see, I have all the power, so that means I get to make all the rules.” “You... you...” Rhaz’Ghal stuttered. “Fine. You’ll have your damned interest.” “I know I will.” The Altorian glowered. Though it enraged him, he knew he had few other choices but to agree to the demands. “Now, if you don’t have anything else to bother me with, I have work to do.” “Actually,” she said, making her way towards Rhaz’Ghal and running her slender fingers over his shoulder. “I did have one more little, tiny thing for you...” He blanched. “It’s about that pretty little ship coming here.” “The freighter? What do you want with it.” “No no, silly. The Excalibur...”

Season 5.5, Episode 2 "Affliction" Mission Brief, SD 022013.17 Excalibur has arrived in Alciest and has beamed a team down to the mining colony to begin preparing the site for construction. Medical has been asked to assist the colonial facilities as the colony is running low on medical supplies. The team beamed down to find a less than pristine facility and were looking for the colonial leader as we paused. IC Date: February 10, 2386 TBS: None

Season 5.5, Episode 2 "Affliction" | Mission Brief, SD 022013.10 The Excalibur has been dispatched to the Alciest system to deploy a high-tech communications array to allow for better and more reliable communication with the Alpha Quadrant. Engineering has been tasked with the primary portion of the mission, however, as Alciest is a non-Federation planet, Security will be tasked with keeping the engineering operations secure, while Science and Medical will both play support roles. After several days of travel and preperation, Excalibur will be arriving in the system as we pick up. 021013.txt