Cptn Swain

STARDATE: 0712.22

 

MISSION BRIEF: The Excalibur continues to investigate the disappearence of the crew of the USS Augustine. The AT on the surface has returned and is now, along side our guest Dr. Svejk and Commander Wydown, believe they are making progress in uncovering exactly what the creatures on the surface (and the husks found on the Augustine) are and how they work. Meanwhile, Medical is continuing to treat the survivors of a second AT to the Augustine who were injured in a plasma explosion; Tandaris believes he knows what happened and was rushing to speak to Swain. Security, meanwhile, is beginning a more detailed investigation into the Augustine's mission after a packet of information about the planet was intercepted. Operations is tracking what they believe to be a Klingon Bird of Prey that has entered the system undercloak.

The IKS GaHau swung around the Domaria star in a long, wide arc. Aboard the bridge, the Chief Engineer grunted, catching the attention of the overly alert HoD (Captain) of the B’rel-class Bird of Prey.

 

“Report,” Kaloch said, looking directly at the Engineer.

 

The grey haired Chief Engineering grunted again and continued to looking at his station. “There was a brief surge in the cloaking matrix as we dropped out of warp. It has dissipated but we may have been, if only momentarily, detected.”

 

Kaloch frowned, he didn’t need to make his displeasure audible. Turning his attention to his helmsman, he looked at the tactical display on the monitor. “Bring us about. Slowly circle in, maintaining a safe distance between us and the two Federation starships.”

 

“HIja'!” The helmsman barked, while running his hands over the console.

 

Behind Kaloch, his second, a female Klingon named Bahlier, crossed her arms. “Their status is unchanged. Other than a few hundred meters of minor corrections to the orbit of the Excalibur...”

 

“What have we picked up from their communications?”

 

Bahlier frowned. “We’re still decoding some of them, but they have recovered their team on the surface with no casualties.”

 

“Mmm,” Kahloch said contemplatively. “Fortunate.”

 

Standing, Kaloch exchanged a quick glance with Bahlier before heading towards the aft of the bridge, towards his chambers. “Jahtok,” he said gruffly to the officer at the tactical console. “You have the bridge. If the Excalibur shows signs that we have been detected, inform me. Continue to monitor the situation.”

 

Bahlier followed into his chambers and waited for the doors to close before speaking. “Kaloch,” she said with a familiarity she would never show in front of the other officers, “I know you said that the Governor gave you this mission personally...”

 

“Yes,” Kaloch said, returning the familiar tone that signaled the comfort between the two officers who’d known each other for nearly their entire lives. “And I have told you all that...”

 

She glowered. “This is not the time to keep secrets from me. I have known you since you were old enough to hold a blade, and have I ever betrayed your trust?”

 

“No,” he said after a long moment. “You will not like it.”

 

“What do you take me for?” She said incredulously. “Of course I will not ‘like’ it, but I will know the truth of why we are here.”

 

Kaloch looked away, towards where, on any other ship would have been a window, but this was, after all, a Klingon Bird of Prey and they certainly had no need to gaze at the black emptiness of space. “The planet was formerly under our jurisdiction. It was one of several systems that the Dominion turned over to us at the end of the Dominion War.”

 

Balier continued to frown. “That doesn’t tell me why there are two Federation starships in orbit, once missing their crew...”

 

“We turned it over to them...”

 

“The Empire ceded territory to the Federation?” She said, rather surprised. “What in Kahless’ name is down there that the High Council...”

 

“According to the Governor, our initial recon team, led by the Hu’MaHjk, found what appeared to be a Dominion research lab. It was unclear how long it had been abandoned.”

 

Bahlier grunted. “And what exactly did the Hu’MaHjk find that the Vorta were working on?”

 

“Biogenetic weapons.”

 

“Dishonorable QI'yaH!” the female Klingon said with a mixture of disgust and annoyance. There was no honor, she felt, in using weapons of mass destruction to kill your enemies. Not that it, in anyway, shocked her that the Dominion had developed them. In all honesty, her bigger question was just what kind of biogenetic weapon they were dealing with.”

 

“More accurately,” Kaloch said in a grim tone. “Creatures we believe they intended to weaponize.”

 

“And the Council just handed this over to them?”

 

Kaloch shook his head. “We do not have the technology or the resources to contain it.”

 

Hands on hips, Bahlier rolled her eyes. “What, planetary bombardment has been banned by the the High Council?”

 

“It is not that simple,” Kaloch said more patiently than he would have with any other subordinate. “Starfleet agreed to share with us any and all intelligence they gathered from the planet. And the Council...”

 

“Did not want to pass up the opportunity to gain knowledge about the Dominion’s plans for weapons of mass destruction.”

 

Kaloch nodded. “Yes.”

 

Bahlier frowned, her body language showing the displeasure she felt. “How very cowardly of them,” she said. “In the old days....”

 

“It is not the old days anymore, you know that.”

 

“That does not mean I have to like all of this … this …”

 

Kaloch held up a hand to stop her. While he shared her feelings, complaining about it would not change the situation. “Our orders are to provide assistance, if needed, to the Federation ships...”

 

“And our unofficial orders?”

 

“The Governor wants us to determine what we can about the Augustine’s mission.”

 

Bahlier nodded. “I see. So are you not going to contact the Excalibur and offer our assistance?”

 

Kaloch shook his head. “No,” he said. “I want to simply observe for now.”

 

“You said that this system had been quarantined by the Federation and the Empire?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Mmm,” she said. “I guess that gives us ample room to barge in whenever you see fit.”

 

“That was the Governor’s suggestion..."

Corris Sprint quietly excused himself from the operations center and headed for the diplomatic ring. He had been in the Gamma Quadrant, aboard Camelot Station for the entirety of the stations operational life. In that time, he had learned that nothing was ever what it appeared. There was always, it seemed, something deeper, something more subtle about any situation. He had learned, largely, to live with that reality. After all, he had survived the rather turbulent early years of the station when Commander then Captain Ah-Windu Corizon had exercised near total autonomy and regularly got the station and his ship involved in clandestine, cloak and dagger affairs better left to holonovels. In all fairness, though, Corizon wasn’t the first such officer to involve him in such matters; for all his Vulcan sobriety Captain Sorehl had his fair share of run-ins with less than kosher activities.

 

Sprint sighed as the lift deposited him on the diplomatic ring of the station, which overlooked the Court. Clearly the absence of both men hadn’t changed the nature of Gamma Quadrant. Steeling himself, he headed towards the Klingon Embassy. Situated opposite of the Dominion Embassy and beside the Romulan Embassy, the suite of offices that housed Governor K’Vorlag and his staff were sparsely marked and even more sparsely decorated. What passed for a reception area lacked even the most basic of comforts for guests. Long metal benches substituted for chairs and the ‘receptionist’ was a gruff young male who clearly wanted to do something more exciting than screen visitors.

 

“Excuse me,” Sprint said casually. “I was hoping to see the Governor.”

 

“Do you have an appointment,” the young Klingon said skeptically, clearly unaware who Sprint was and what role he played on the station.

 

“No,” Sprint said. “Though it is a matter of some urgency … and delicacy.”

 

Still skeptical, the young Da glanced to a monitor on his ‘desk’. “What is your name,” he stopped to glance at the pips, “Lieutenant Commander?”

 

“Sprint, Ch...”

 

“Ah,” the Da said. “Chief Operations officer, yes?”

 

Sprint nodded. “Is the Governor available then?”

 

“Yes,” the Klingon said. “You may go in now. I’ll let him know you’re on your way in.”

 

“Thank you.” The Klingon didn’t reciprocate verbally, and went back to his rather annoyed countenance as he waited for Sprint to leave.

 

The Embassy, like everything about the Klingons, as straightforward, with the reception area leading into a long hallway with several offices off to either side and ending at a set of heavy, unadorned double doors marked in Klingon script as belonging to K’Vorlag, Governor at Large.

 

Taking yet another deep breath, Sprint lifted the heavy metal knocker on the right door and clanked it against the door several times before stopping and waiting for a response.

 

K’Vorlag’s brusque, deep base thundered out in a matter of moments. “Come!” Sprint headed in, taking in the office, suddenly aware he’d never been in the Governor’s office, despite having had numerous liaisons with him over the years.

 

“General, thank you for seeing me.”

 

K’Vorlag nodded, motioning him to come more fully into the room and be seated. He was short by Klingon standards and roundly built, but what he lacked in stature he made up for in presence. It was a trait that Sprint had always rather admired in the Governor. Despite being neither combative or loud, K’Vorlag always managed to command the attention of anyone, when he chose.

 

“I trust that you’re not here to ask me about that missing shipment of Bloodwine?”

 

Sprint had almost forgot the farcas that had erupted the previous week involving several missing crates of very expensive bloodwine. Smiling, despite himself, Sprint tried his best to be coy. “And what makes you say that?”

 

“Because you know that I had nothing to do with that mess.”

 

Sprint smirked. “So you said...” He paused a moment before sighing. “But you’re right. I didn’t come to talk about that.”

 

“Mmm,” K’Vorlag said. “It’s unlike you to leave your post anyway.”

 

Tipping his head for a moment, Sprint wondered just how the Governor knew his shift or why and made a note for later. Leaving it go for the moment, Sprint nodded again. “To be honest, Governor, I am not entirely certain why I am here, other than Captain Sorehl has always trusted in you.”

 

Sensing the note of urgency in Sprint’s voice, K’Vorlag leaned forward in his chair. He had known Sprint since he was an Ensign, back when they’d both been involved in the original Aegis project, but their dealings had still been entire professional. In all of that time, K’Vorlag could not remember the typically non-plussed operations officer looking so concerned.

 

“Our relationship was not always so... cordial,” he said. “But I am a man of Honor, as is the Captain. Is this about him?”

 

Sprint shook his head. “No,” he said. “Though I honestly wish he were around to be involved.”

 

K’Vorlag nodded. More than anyone else, Sorehl had been a stabilizing force for the Allies in the Gamma Quadrant. “I see. What is that you did come here for then?”

 

It took longer than he’d expected to vocalize the words in his head. Sprint had never outright committed what some people might call treason. He’d bent the rules more than once, but this was on an entirely new level for him. “Several weeks ago, the USS Augustine was redirected, while on a routine mapping mission to the Domaria system...”

 

“The Domaria system?” K’Vorlag said unexpectedly.

 

“You know it?”

 

K’Vorlag frowned deeply. “Yes. Why was a Federation starship sent there?”

 

“I don’t know,” Sprint said. “I didn’t even know the planet was quarantined until recently. At any rate, they had sent a message asking for a mission specialist about 6 weeks ago. Command sent one directly to us, but in the meantime, we lost contact with the Augustine; we believed it to be from the ion storm. The Excalibur was dispatched to drop off the mission specialist and make sure everything was okay.”

 

K’Vorlag’s frown had turned into an angry scowl.

 

“Governor?”

 

“Domaria is not a system where people should just be going on a Sunday stroll.”

 

Sensing he’d opened up a particularly nasty hornet’s nest, Sprint frowned. “What do you mean?”

 

“It is a long story,” he said, “But to get to the heart of it -- after the war, the Domaria system was part of a collection of systems the Dominion gave over to the allies, specifically us...”

 

“Yes,” Sprint said. “Since they wanted to cut down their perimeters.”

 

“I think you people have a saying... buyer beware, yes?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

“One of my scout teams surveyed the planet, after I gave my report to the High Council, we turned it over to Starfleet. What happened from that I don’t know, other than the team Starfleet sent there after our’s, left nearly as quickly.”

 

“Fascinating,” Sprint said, quirking his head. “Do you know what the record on that planet says?”

 

“I can take a guess.”

 

“It says there’s absolutely nothing of interest on the planet.”

 

“Figures. So, let me get this straight. You now have two starships in orbit of this planet. One or both having gone into it blindly. And I am further assuming that you haven’t had contact with either, am I correct?”

 

Sprint nodded and K’Vorlag continued. “I would therefore also assume that you’re not entirely sure you can trust your superiors with this?”

 

Biting his lip, Sprint finally nodded to that as well. “It’s just...”

 

“No need to explain yourself,” K’Vorlag said. “I have my own concerns about the Admiral.”

 

Sprint shifted uncomfortably in the already uncomfortable chair. “It just... just damned irregular.”

 

“Mmm,” K’Vorlag said with a nod. “So what can I do to help you then?”

 

“Roughly 15 minutes ago, we experienced a malfunction in our cryptographic subroutines while sending encoded information. From my understanding you have a Bird of Prey, the IKS GaHau in the Isetian Cluster...”

 

“Very clever Mister Sprint,” K’Vorlag said with a grin. “I’ll let them know, and direct them to proceed to the Domaria system.”

 

“There is of course the matter of...”

 

“If anyone asks,” K’Vorlag said. “I will personally tell your Admiral, that they noticed a Federation ship in a sector we believed to have been quarantined and went to lend assistance.

 

“Are you planning on telling him about this?”

 

Sprint looked away for a moment. “I don’t report to him directly, but I will tell the Captain that the Excalibur hasn’t checked in.”

 

“A good idea,” the Klingon said. “They’ve gone to an awful lot of trouble to keep this mission under the table...”

 

“So what is on this planet?”

 

The Klingon grimaced.

STARDATE 0612.10

 

MISSION BRIEF: Aboard the Augustine -- shortly after losing contact with the AT, an explosion of unknown cause/origin rippled through sickbay. Excalibur was able to extract three of the four members of the AT.

 

Aboard the Excalibur -- An investigation into the explosion has begun, while the survivors are treated for heavy burns. Science/Medical (under the supervision of the XO) are also continuing an investigation into the husks found aboard the Augustine.

 

On the surface -- the team headed to the lower levels, where the dampening field, which prevents beaming, communications, and sensors scans, seems to be located.

STARDATE 0612.03

 

MISSION BRIEF: The Excalibur's AT has beamed down to the surface, where they hope to find more clues to the disappearance of the Augustine's crew. They have found evidence that the Augustine had sent down teams to the surface, they also found evidence that the Dominion had at one time also been doing some experiments on similar exoskelletons to those found on the Augustine. A dampening field has prevented further scans of the complex's lower levels. On the Augustine itself, a second team has beamed over to continue the work of the first team

STARDATE 0512.21

 

MISSION BRIEF: The bulk of the AT from the Excalibur has transported back from the Augustine, along with samples of the strange exoskeletons found aboard the ship for study. Further investigation yielded clues that the creatures may have been brought back to from the Dominion base on the planet. A small AT is preparing to beam down to the surface, a second team is also being prepared to continue work on the Augustine.

Excalibur will meet as scheduled. Absences will be excused.

STARDATE 0512.13

 

MISSION BRIEF: The Excalibur away team continues to investigate the disappearance of the Augustine's crew, while science works on a more detailed scan of the planet to assure that it would be safe for any future away teams. Aboard the Augustine the AT has found information that seems to indicate the shell may have came from the surface, possibly from the Dominon base; they have also begun to sift through mission logs that are now slowly begin recovered.

As the Excalibur crew attempted to solve the riddle of the Augustine, her Captain laid anxiously in his stateroom a few decks below the bridge, tossing and turning on his couch.

 

He hadn’t spoken to Charlie Ostander, the captain of the Augustine in nearly half-a-decade, not since the Augustine and the Cassini had completed a joint first contact mission with the Julani. As he lay, unable to sleep, Asher considered that mission and the terms he’d left off on with Charlie.

 

They’d known each other for years, they’d been classmates at the academy, served together for a short time on the George Washington, and afterwards taken their vacations together (with Charlie’s wife) almost every year until the Dominion War. The war had changed both men though. Swain had spent the better part of the war off the frontlines, running recon and outrider missions for the fleet aboard the Idrisi; Charlie, meanwhile, had served as Executive Officer aboard first the Auberoche , and then as Commander of the Gallant . It had been difficult on both of them, and on their friendship. Asher had been troubled by the pre-emptive strike on the Cardassians, while Charlie thought they acted to slowly; the tensions had continued throughout the war with each of the two men staking out their positions on either side of the other. It was strange, Asher now thought, that they’d known each other all those years and not realized just how different they were, and how wide the gap between them had truly been.

 

At war’s end, they had attempted to resume life as normal; but after the Dominion War nothing was ever the same for anyone or anything, and an old friendship seemed to have been one of the causalities of the war. They’d barely spoken in a year when the order had come down from Command putting them back together again for the first contact mission with the Julani. Both men were breaking in new ships and new crews, Asher the Cassini and Charlie the Augustine, and it was the first big assignment for either Captain or their ship. At first, they’d both welcomed the chance to work together again. Asher had hoped it would rekindle their old friendship, but as the mission went on, and a routine first-contact mission soured and complicated, the divide that had formed during the Dominon War deepened; and by mission’s end, neither man spoke to the other.

 

That was where they’d left off. When he’d heard it was the Augustine they’d be working with, he was at first hopeful of another chance to perhaps patch up the friendship, maybe he thought, since they wouldn’t actually be working together, it would be fine; but then, the closer they got to leaving Camelot, the more anxious he’d become at the idea, and the more jealous of Charlie, too. Those worries, though, had long been replaced by the unsettling feeling that he’d never see Charlie again. He hoped his intuition was wrong. He hoped that at any moment, Rue would call him and let him know they’d found the crew – an if not the crew, some sort clue as to where they went and that they might still be alive. He knew that was a slim hope, though, and as he lay restlessly in his stateroom he knew the next call that came would likely be bad news.

 

Asher closed his eyes and tried to force out the jumble of thoughts flowing through his head. He took a deep breath. “Trust them,” he said out loud, “if anyone could find them, it would be this crew.”

Stardate 0412.29 | MISSION BRIEFING: Excalibur has arrived in orbit and beamed an away team over to the Augustine, which they have found adrift and apparently abandoned, listing at a 45-degree angle and running on emergency power only. The AT has split up into two groups: one to the bridge, and one to engineering to attempt to determine what has happened. Science has scanned the planet and have, so far, not detected any signs of sentient life; they have detected what appears to be an abandoned Dominion facility on the planet.

042912.txt

Stardate 0412.29

 

MISSION BRIEFING: Excalibur has arrived in orbit and beamed an away team over to the Augustine, which they have found adrift and apparently abandoned, listing at a 45-degree angle and running on emergency power only. The AT has split up into two groups: one to the bridge, and one to engineering to attempt to determine what has happened. Science has scanned the planet and have, so far, not detected any signs of sentient life; they have detected what appears to be an abandoned Dominion facility on the planet.

 

TBS: None

Waiting for Talon, a bit like Godot?

Stardate 0412.22

 

MISSION BRIEFING: Long range scans have indicated no life-signs aboard the Augustine, the Excalibur will have to get closer before they can determine if the crew took shelter on the planet. An away team from Engineering, Security and Medical are preparing to board the Augustine to determine what has happened, while science has been looking for more information about the planet itself. Swain has sent an update to Camelot, but has not received a response.

 

TBS: 30 minutes

Stardate 0412.15

 

MISSION BRIEFING: The Excalibur continues en route to Domaria V, where the USS Augustine has been conducting a planetary survey, with the Excalibur to be courier to a mission specialist, Dr. Edward Svejk. The Augustine has not been in contact with anyone, though, for almost a month and has not responded to any hails from the Excalibur. Now less than six hours out, Excalibur has entered within the halo of long range sensors, finding the Augustine in a strange orbit with less power than normally expected.

 

TBS was 5-10 minutes.

When the evening finally came to a close, Asher Swain felt a wave of relief as he sunk into his richly upholstered couch. He thinks his quarters are too small? Should have had Rue assign him to a junior’s stateroom. Closing his eyes, he considered their guest for a long moment. There was something he couldn’t quite put a finger on about that one; he was prickly, border-line-abrasive, and more than a little peculiar. Granted, what did should anyone have expected out of a guy whose academic pursuits and hobbies involved reviewing, researching, and consultation of and on Starfleet’s research policies.

 

That particular fact had been perhaps the most interesting facet of the good doctor, and despite at least two hours of dialog with various members of the crew, they hadn’t come any closer to finding out just why Starfleet had sent a bioethicist to assist in a planetary survey. There were rumors of course, mind you. His yeoman, the strange little Roman boy – Augustus Quintus, had been rather forthcoming with the ship’s gossip – something Swain was rather coming to enjoy, having never really delved those murky waters in his prior commands – and the theories were as varied as the number of races in the Federation. Swain smirked; he supposed it couldn’t be helped, not after everything the Excalibur had seen, especially with their former commanding officer’s proclivities.

 

For his own, rather idle speculation, he assumed that whatever they’d found they weren’t entirely sure how to proceed and had asked Starfleet for someone to help them with such a conundrum and that further, ‘Fleet wanted to keep it all rather quiet given that they were technically operating in Dominion space. Not that he’d shared that with anyone, but it was his current running theory.

 

At least his crew had thus far behaved themselves. Sure, they’d been a little cliquish at first, but they seemed to settle in decently enough and engage the doctor in some lively discussions on his work and ethics in general. He had made a mental note, though, to address the issue of sneaking a flask into the function with his Chief of Security. While far from a tee-totaler (he did have a rather robust collection of wines stored away in his quarters), he also felt that decorum and regulations existed for a reason and he’d rather his senior officer’s not behave like academy brats and sneak liquor into the prom. Perhaps he’d ask Rue to handle it instead. She did seem to have a rather soft touch with such sticky issues, owing, he assumed, to her prior life as a medical officer.

 

Honestly, he’d come to rely more and more on her, trusting his executive officer to handle issues he’d rather not or was ill-equipped for, and she had handled them all with aplomb. Swain was thankful for her as well, as she’d made the transition far easier than it would have been if he’d not gotten on with his executive officer – which he’d not had any input into her selection.

 

Indeed, for all his grumpiness of late, he honestly had little to complain about when it came to his ship. Sure, they were all very colorful, but that was to be expected. He really did have a very fine crew that any commander should be proud to command.

 

Swain closed his eyes for a long moment and exhaled. Why was he so surly anyway? True he wasn’t happy about having the Cassini shanghaied away from him and plopped into a rather difficult command, but it wasn’t as if he’d gotten a crew from the land of misfittoys, or an ancient, rusty, sloop.

 

Letting himself begin to drift into sleep, he let his worries and his cares drift away as well, and for a time, his restless mind was at ease, adrift in the woods and fields of his homeworld.

Part of Asher Swain had never stopped being marveled by transporters. It was amazing to him that humanity (such a racist word) had advanced themselves sufficiently that they could play god on an everyday basis. The mystery of creation, he’d reasoned, had eluded society and culture for generations, and yet over the course of a day Starfleet transporter operators played Shiva, both as creator and destroyer, dozens of times over. It was fascinating.

 

As he stepped onto the pad of the Excalibur and nodded to the transport officer, he felt the

familiar tingle of his atoms being disassembled for transmission to Camelot Station.

 

“Afternoon, Captain,” the operator said, trying his best for cheer. “Welcome to Camelot Station. If you don’t mind though, I’ve got a busy schedule of transports to keep.”

 

Swain smirked ever so slightly. The traditional chain of command, ridged as it sometimes could be, had the darnedest quirks. “Not at all Chief. Have a nice day.” Without much thought the operator nodded and began preparing for his next beam out as Asher shuffled into the hallway.

Camelot Station was still unfamiliar to Asher and he paused just outside the transporter room doorway to ascertain how far he’d been deposited from his eventual destination, the office of Vice-Admiral Misha Abronvonvich. Running his hands over the LCARS panel, he quickly found the layout of the station with the sign reading ‘you are here.’

 

He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to the bigness of it all. Excalibur still felt very foreign to him, and Camelot even more so. On the Cassini and the Idrisi he’d known every soul under his command, yet on Excalibur he was still trying to get down the names of the bridge crew. For a man who prided himself on knowing his crew, it was fairly disconcerting.

 

Swain paused for a moment as the corridor he’d be following dumped out into an open promenade looking over the ‘Courtyard,’ the commercial market area of the station. Transporter room Three-Gamma had been on the exact opposite end of the sprawling station from the Admiral’s office, but at least it had afforded him a chance to stretch his legs, and apparently, a birds-eye view of the bustling civvie scene. He could have stood along the railing, watching the commotion below for at least an hour without any thought of boredom, but he reminded himself of his appointment with Abronvonvich and continued on after a few moments.

 

Just as the transporter found a way to bring him wonderment, so too did the sheer force of humanity’s (there was that word again) will to thrive. The thought, just a mere decade ago, of a bustling Federation outpost deep in the Gamma Quadrant would have caused just about anyone sane to laugh, and yet, here it was, strong, vibrant and ever growing.

 

Growing up on a colony world, he’d always wondered what had made his ancestors want to leave the safety and security of their homes to set out on the frontier and carve a new life for themselves, and not only that but to eschew the trappings and comfort of modern technology for ways of antiquity.

 

Sighing he continued along the railing and into a lift that carried him up to the command levels of the station. Finally coming to Abronvonvich’s suite of offices, he was shortly shown inside. The long floor-to-ceiling windows, with their panoramic view of the planet below held him captive for a moment, just as they done during his first visits to the office. He wondered, silently, if it would continue to hold such an allure on subsequent visits – as did the Admiral.

 

Misha Abronvonvich filed the thought away, chiding himself. Perhaps, he considered, he was too judgmental of the new commander of the Excalibur. Perhaps, he considered, he unfairly continued to compare him to the prior master of the Excalibur; which also led him to the rather uncomfortable conclusion that, despite everything that had occurred, he missed Ah-Windu Corizon.

 

It wasn’t that he disliked Asher. Not at all. From everything he could see, he was a capable, dedicated captain who didn’t seem to have Corizon’s knack for blowing things up – nor did problems follow him wherever he went. Still, Corizon and himself were of the same mind on many issues and he’d come to value the unique perspective and contrast that the Dameon often brought to any issue. Swain, on the other hand, was a different breed from either himself or Corizon. Swain was a scientist first and foremost. How they’d ever got him in the Captain’s Chair eluded Abronvonvich. Still he seemed to do well enough..

 

“Captain,” he said, breaking his mental repartee. “Welcome back to Camelot.”

 

Swain, for his part, had thought little about the Admiral, due largely to his continued fixation with the giant, blue-green-and-wispy-clouded orb hogging the window behind Abronvonvich. Breaking himself away at the sound of the coarse, accented voice of the Admiral, Swain turned his attention to the craggy-faced Russian.

 

“Good to be back, sir.” Swain said tipping his respectfully and coming to an easy attention on near the edge of the large desk. “I would be lying if I said I was unhappy that mission is over.”

 

Misha grinned widely. Part of him enjoyed the breaking in new captains got to the Gamma Quadrant. He’d found that even fairly seasoned ones likes Swain found the adjustment from the relatively controlled chaos of the Federation and the Alpha Quadrant to the rough and tumble frontiers of the Gamma Quadrant to be rather … trying.

 

“If it’s any consolation,” Misha said with as close to a comforting voice as the burly Russian could manage, “You did a very good job.”

 

Swain shrugged. He certainly didn’t feel that way, but he wasn’t going to dispute the Admiral.

 

“It’s comforting to know I have a commander I can trust not to escalate a situation.”

 

“Thank you, Admiral.”

 

“Well, I am sure you’re anxious to get back to your ship. I expect a full report by tomorrow.”

 

“Of course...”

OOC Date February 19, 2012

IC Date December 8, 2385

 

Excalibur continued towards Camelot with the Masovian and Kalith vessels, meeting up with the Cape Horn, Valorous and the rest of the Hakarian convoy. Swain tooka breather from his 'productive' meetings with the Kalith, while Wydown did the same with her meetings with the Masovians. Engineering and Science continue to work on the data given to them by Command. Medical remains aboard the Masovians vessel providing care and comfort to the refugees.

 

TBS: 6 Hours

Asher Swain sat behind his large desk in his ready room, drinking an herbal tea and munching aimlessly at a scone -- he wasn’t sure the flavor. Just what the hell had he gotten himself into? No, not this mission -- though the question was pretty apt for that, too. No, what he still hadn’t wrapped his brain around, was just how the hell he let anyone talk him into taking his command in this godforsaken quadrant. It wasn’t like he had deep dark secrets that someone could use against him, to blackmail him into take such a command; he’d served Starfleet for twenty some years without a single blemish on his record, almost ten of that as a commanding officer of a starship. Somehow, despite all that, he ended up stuck in the middle of Gamma Quadrant in the middle of yet another mess left by the grand legacy of the Founders.

 

Frowning, he sat his tea down and began looking back through the information sent to him by Camelot. He was a scientist not a diplomat. From the nearest he could tell, they’d walked into one hell of a powder keg. The Masovians were Hakarians, but were a different ethnic group -- they followed a different religion (Joy.) and had been prosecuted and persecuted by the Hakarian Royal Family for years until the Dominion rolled in and took over. Of course, the Dominion didn’t usually mind who you were, as long as you kept your mouths shut and did not bother them too much, but now that they pulled out of the sector, the Kalith were moving in and they apparently did care. On top of that, there was an added layer in that the Kalith had gotten their hands on some sort of Dominion superweapon designed to defeat the Scorpiads. Loverly as his executive officer would say.

 

They had thankfully happened upon a bit of decent luck, though and both the Kalith and Masovians had finally agreed to separate ‘meditation’ meetings with the Excalibur command staff to discuss the situation and if possible, “negotiate a peaceful resolution.” Swain took another drink of tea and continued reading the sparse notes on both species, when his chimes rang.

 

“Come,” he said, mostly expecting it to be his Yeoman, delivering a fresh round of scones and tea. Instead, he found his exec, Cdr Wydown, smirking at him playfully. How the woman kept in such good spirits, had thus alluded him.

 

“Doing a bit of light reading, eh?” She glanced at the PADD in his hand, then back up with a twisted smirk.

 

“Light is certainly the word for it,” he said with a frown. “You’d think that if they want us to try and put this fire out, they’d have the common courtesy to actually give us the tools. Have you read the dossier on the Kalith? And I am not even going to comment on how thin the intel is on the Masovians. I think I know more about the crewman who does waste extraction on delta shift...”

 

Despite herself, Rue couldn’t help but chuckle at her captain’s frustrations. “Welcome to the Traveling Medicine Show. We look like we’re just’a peddling miracle products to the masses when in reality we’re running recon to make the brass look like they know what the hell they’re doing. Wait until it all blows up, that’s when the real three ring starts.”

 

“I suppose,” Swain said, annoyed that she was right. He hated being used. “And I suppose I am going to have to start getting used to that -- it’s just, I am used to exploring all right, but usually the things I like to study don’t come armed with weapons.”

 

“Yep,” she pop the ‘p’. “Welcome to your first Gamma quadrant diplomatic primer. I promise they’re not all mental. Wellll...most of them are, but after a while you get used to it.”

 

“At least they were willing to talk. Thank you for taking care of that.”

 

“No problem. They were a little hesitant at first.”

 

“Understandable,” Swain said with a nod. “I get the feeling neither of them trust us -- for different reasons. Not that I think that’s any kind of revelation.”

 

“Mmm,” Rue said, starting to rock back and forth on her heels. “Soooooo... who’s...”

 

“Who’s meeting with who?” Swain said leaning back in his chair and taking his tea to his lips. “I phoned home about an hour ago to see what Camelot had to say.”

 

“And?”

 

“They think it would be a good idea for me to meet with the Kalith -- they have some sort of hierarchical culture -- also Intel seemed to think the Masovians might react to you better or something...”

 

Rue stopped rocking and wrinkled her nose. “Whot? Me? Why?”

 

“To quote, ‘as a Rafalean, her more outsider perspective might allow her to empathize better with them and draw out more information’.”

 

Mouthing ‘Outsider perspective,’ she made a note to add another drink to Mal’s tab before nodding. “I am rather alien for a human.”

 

“I guess they didn’t read my own background. It’s not like Abscean is exactly, you know, cosmopolitan,” Swain said, a tinge of indignation towards the notion he was somehow an insider in his voice before waiving it off. “Though I suppose it is more of your identity than it is mine.”

 

Unsure if that was supposed to be a compliment or an insult, Wydown opted for the former and flashed a toothy grin. “Welllllll,” she said, “you do have less of an accent.”

 

“True,” he said finally cracking a smile. “Though its taken years of practice to break that.”

 

Rue smirked, though now she wondered just exactly what Swain sounded like in his more native form, and more importantly, what it would take to coax that out of him. She could be rather persistently annoying when she needed to be. Reminding herself of the situation, she pretended to sober up as she straightened her uniform. “Now where’s the fun in that?” She paused for a fraction before continuing, “So are we sorted?”

 

Swain laughed and set the tea down. “Alright then, its settled. You meet with the Masovians, I get the Kalith.”

 

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Wydown gave him a salute with a toothy grin, leaving Swain to prepare for the next round of tricky frontier diplomacy.

Asher Swain sat behind his large desk in his ready room, drinking an herbal tea and munching aimlessly at a scone -- he wasn’t sure the flavor. Just what the hell had he gotten himself into? No, not this mission -- though the question was pretty apt for that, too. No, what he still hadn’t wrapped his brain around, was just how the hell he let anyone talk him into taking his command in this godforsaken quadrant. It wasn’t like he had deep dark secrets that someone could use against him, to blackmail him into take such a command; he’d served Starfleet for twenty some years without a single blemish on his record, almost ten of that as a commanding officer of a starship. Somehow, despite all that, he ended up stuck in the middle of Gamma Quadrant in the middle of yet another mess left by the grand legacy of the Founders.

 

Frowning, he sat his tea down and began looking back through the information sent to him by Camelot. He was a scientist not a diplomat. From the nearest he could tell, they’d walked into one hell of a powder keg. The Masovians were Hakarians, but were a different ethnic group -- they followed a different religion (Joy.) and had been prosecuted and persecuted by the Hakarian Royal Family for years until the Dominion rolled in and took over. Of course, the Dominion didn’t usually mind who you were, as long as you kept your mouths shut and did not bother them too much, but now that they pulled out of the sector, the Kalith were moving in and they apparently did care. On top of that, there was an added layer in that the Kalith had gotten their hands on some sort of Dominion superweapon designed to defeat the Scorpiads. Loverly as his executive officer would say.

 

They had thankfully happened upon a bit of decent luck, though and both the Kalith and Masovians had finally agreed to separate ‘meditation’ meetings with the Excalibur command staff to discuss the situation and if possible, “negotiate a peaceful resolution.” Swain took another drink of tea and continued reading the sparse notes on both species, when his chimes rang.

 

“Come,” he said, mostly expecting it to be his Yeoman, delivering a fresh round of scones and tea. Instead, he found his exec, Cdr Wydown, smirking at him playfully. How the woman kept in such good spirits, had thus alluded him.

 

“Doing a bit of light reading, eh?” She glanced at the PADD in his hand, then back up with a twisted smirk.

 

“Light is certainly the word for it,” he said with a frown. “You’d think that if they want us to try and put this fire out, they’d have the common courtesy to actually give us the tools. Have you read the dossier on the Kalith? And I am not even going to comment on how thin the intel is on the Masovians. I think I know more about the crewman who does waste extraction on delta shift...”

 

Despite herself, Rue couldn’t help but chuckle at her captain’s frustrations. “Welcome to the Traveling Medicine Show. We look like we’re just’a peddling miracle products to the masses when in reality we’re running recon to make the brass look like they know what the hell they’re doing. Wait until it all blows up, that’s when the real three ring starts.”

 

“I suppose,” Swain said, annoyed that she was right. He hated being used. “And I suppose I am going to have to start getting used to that -- it’s just, I am used to exploring all right, but usually the things I like to study don’t come armed with weapons.”

 

“Yep,” she pop the ‘p’. “Welcome to your first Gamma quadrant diplomatic primer. I promise they’re not all mental. Wellll...most of them are, but after a while you get used to it.”

 

“At least they were willing to talk. Thank you for taking care of that.”

 

“No problem. They were a little hesitant at first.”

 

“Understandable,” Swain said with a nod. “I get the feeling neither of them trust us -- for different reasons. Not that I think that’s any kind of revelation.”

 

“Mmm,” Rue said, starting to rock back and forth on her heels. “Soooooo... who’s...”

 

“Who’s meeting with who?” Swain said leaning back in his chair and taking his tea to his lips. “I phoned home about an hour ago to see what Camelot had to say.”

 

“And?”

 

“They think it would be a good idea for me to meet with the Kalith -- they have some sort of hierarchical culture -- also Intel seemed to think the Masovians might react to you better or something...”

 

Rue stopped rocking and wrinkled her nose. “Whot? Me? Why?”

 

“To quote, ‘as a Rafalean, her more outsider perspective might allow her to empathize better with them and draw out more information’.”

 

Mouthing ‘Outsider perspective,’ she made a note to add another drink to Mal’s tab before nodding. “I am rather alien for a human.”

 

“I guess they didn’t read my own background. It’s not like Abscean is exactly, you know, cosmopolitan,” Swain said, a tinge of indignation towards the notion he was somehow an insider in his voice before waiving it off. “Though I suppose it is more of your identity than it is mine.”

 

Unsure if that was supposed to be a compliment or an insult, Wydown opted for the former and flashed a toothy grin. “Welllllll,” she said, “you do have less of an accent.”

 

“True,” he said finally cracking a smile. “Though its taken years of practice to break that.”

 

Rue smirked, though now she wondered just exactly what Swain sounded like in his more native form, and more importantly, what it would take to coax that out of him. She could be rather persistently annoying when she needed to be. Reminding herself of the situation, she pretended to sober up as she straightened her uniform. “Now where’s the fun in that?” She paused for a fraction before continuing, “So are we sorted?”

 

Swain laughed and set the tea down. “Alright then, its settled. You meet with the Masovians, I get the Kalith.”

 

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Wydown gave him a salute with a toothy grin, leaving Swain to prepare for the next round of tricky frontier diplomacy.

 

The Excalibur will not run the next two Sundays. Happy Holidays!

A wonderful read!

Author's Note: This topic had previously been posted before, but has been updated to reflect current events.

 

Federation President Finishes Two Week Long Conference on Cardassia Prime

Talks between the five largest Alpha Quadrant governments broke off this week as parties form all sides agreed, in principle, to a new framework agreement for the future of the Cardassian Union. While details remain vague, sources close those involved with negotiation have hinted that while there will be no major changes, a number of financial and military changes will be forthcoming. Diplomats from the respective governments are expected to continue to finalize the agreement which, in the words of Federation President Nainatta Bacco, who organized the summit, "will lay the foundations for a new and prosperous era of peace for Cardassia as respected member of the intergalactic community." Diplomats hope to have a treaty signed by the middle of next year.

 

Starfleet Medical Holds Symposium on Risks of Khal'er Flu

Military and Civilian leaders met at Starfleet Medical's headquarters on Earth to discuss the recent outbreak of the Khal'er Flu and the response from the Federation and Starfleet, additionally they hosted an open forum to discuss the risks and dangers posed by the flu to public safety.

 

Bedivere Array Connects Alpha and Gamma Quadrant in Real Time

After months of intial testing and several construction delays, the Bedivere Communications Array has been completed in the Avalon system. Consisting of both a large, planetary based array and a space-borne array, the Bedivere Array, designed by Dr. Phillip Eliis, will for the first time allow real-time communications between the Alpha and Gamma Quadrants for short periods of time. Already in use by Federation and Starfleet officials, the array will be available for limited civilian usage early next year.

 

Renowned Caitian Pianist Dies

M'thra Shzall, noted Caitian pianist and composer, has died at the age of 83. Shzall, a child prodigy who preformed for seven Federation presidents and was the recipient of both the Federation Medal of Freedom and the N'Laor Award for Artistisry, died quietly in her home on Cait after a long illness. Speaking from Lahor City, Cardassia, Federation president Nanietta Bacco remarked "The Federation lost a true treasure today. One of the greatest honors as President of the Federation was M'thra playing at my inaugural ball. The entire Federation grieves for Shzall's family."

 

Starbase Lyonesse Construction Remains Halted

Starfleet officials have confirmed that construction on the mid-sized starbase at the Gamma Quadrant terminus of the wormhole remains halted, citing continuing diplomatic negotiations between the Federation and Romulan governments. Sources, which asked to remain anonymous due to the nature of the negotiations, hinted that a resolution could be coming within days and that leaders from both sides continued to discuss the issue.

They already had theirs! :P

 

Excalibur will run as scheduled, however attendence will not be taken.

 

Have a safe and happy holiday everyone!

OOC Date August 28- November 20, 2011

IC Date November 8-20, 2011

 

Excalibur's science and engineering teams devised a plan to pump water back into the aquafir, while engineering helped rewrite subroutines in the power planet's control systems that allowed the problem to occur and conducted some basic training with the planet's engineering corps to help them have a better understanding of the planet's systems. Engineering teams from Starfleet Corps. will continue to work with the planet's inhabitants over the next year to improve their understanding and to develop alternative power systems.

 

Commander Wydown's teams began handing off duties to the dedicated Medical ship, USS Jarvik with few trouble. Later we learned several people on the recovery teams had been exposed to a bacterial infection, though medical was able to solve the problem easily.

 

With the planet stabilized and a dedicated medical ship in orbit, Excalibur headed for home once more. Arriving at Camelot, Excalibur resupplied and the crew enjoyed a short leave before new orders were cut dispatching Excalibur, Cape Horn and the Valorous to escort a convoy of refugees to Camelot.

 

En route, Excalibur and company encountered a large ion storm and slowed to circumnavigate. Eventually they arrived to find the convoy, who'd also gone through the edges of the ion storm, in mostly good shape. However, the High Priestess of the Hakar, Mirinaol, indicated that one of their vessels had gone missing during the journey. Captain Swain agreed to help locate the missing vessel, if possible and called a staff meeting to discuss the operation.

The turbo-lift carried Swain through the hard point docking mechanism and he felt the slight shift as he went horizontal and into the Camelot lift system as the lift spun for a second before the automated systems switched it over to Camelot’s control and then deposited him on the upper ring in the office suite of Vice-Admiral Abronvonvich.

 

He was early, to be sure, but he’d always found that he could never stand the waiting that usually accompanied being on-time if one wasn’t chronically late. Smiling as he passed a few lower-ranking officers, he made his way to the reception desk where Lt. Commander Deigo Sands sat contemplatively as he sifted through something on a PADD. Before Swain could say something, Sands had already noticed him approaching.

 

“Captain,” Sands said neutrally, “you’re early. The Admiral isn’t expecting you for another hour.”

 

“I know,” Swain said. “But I hate waiting around on the ship.”

 

Sands tipped his head to one side, considering the new master of the Excalibur. Though perhaps in a different manner, he saw similarities to her former commanding officer -- notably a directness that served both of them well. Also their long hair and ear piercings. He suspected, though, from their files alone, that the two had had little else in common.

 

Finally shrugging and motioning to a set of chairs to his left, Sands smiled. “Well I’ll let the Admiral know you’re here. He’s been in meetings all morning, but he should be able to see you a little early.”

 

“Thanks,” Swain said with a nod before heading over to the chairs and seating himself, cross-legged while Sands talked in hushed tones into a communicator. As he waited, Swain looked around the room, taking in the various accouterments that adorned the waiting room and wondered if the Admiral had done the decorating or if it were someone else’s’ handiwork. Judging from both the reputation of Abronvonvich and his own experiences, he leaned towards the latter.

 

After a few minutes, Sands led Swain into the spacious office of the Admiral. At first, Swain stood for a long moment, staring off into the distance at the windows filled with the glow of the planet below. It was breathtaking. For a moment he forgot where he was and felt himself drifting back to when he’d saw his own homeworld from space for the first time.

 

His nostalgia was quickly broken by a gentle nudge by Sands who’d seen this happen before with the more science-y Captain’s that came through the door. Giving a quick, unspoken gesture of thanks to Sands, Swain came to attention a few feet away from the Admiral’s expansive, PADD-filled desk.

 

The cragy, white-haired Admiral smirked slightly; the great creases on his face shifting ever so delicately. He’d seen that distant look before, too. He couldn’t blame them, he supposed, it was one hell of a view. “As you were, Captain.”

 

Swain nodded and went at ease, tipping his head respectfully to the senior officer. “Sorry if I am a little early.”

 

“Nothing to be worried about,” he said. “Have a seat.”

 

Nodding swain took a seat opposite Abronvonvich. The elder statesman of the two looked him over. He still couldn’t quite get a feel for the Captain, but his performance spoke for itself -- so far anyway.

 

“Well,” Abronvonvich said, breaking the silence. “Good work on Caldor.”

 

“My crew...”

 

Modesty, Abronvonvich thought. “Yes.”

 

“They’re as good as advertised.”

 

“Yes,” Abronvonvich said. “They are, but all modesty aside, you handled the situation well. I mean, I know this isn’t your first rodeo -- but you handled it well all things considered -- new crew, new ship, new situation.”

 

Swain knew enough to take a compliment for what it was and nodded. “Thanks.”

 

“I have a feeling this kind of thing is going to start becoming the norm...”

 

“Oh?”

 

“The Dominion is pulling back more and more, consolidating their power best they can -- as they do...”

 

“They’re going to be leaving behind a legacy of years of oppression and occupation,” Swain said with a frown. “Those people on Caldor -- they didn’t have any concept how to turn on the damned equipment let alone keep it working.”

 

“You’ll find more of the same elsewhere,” Abronvonvich said with a disapproving frown, “The Olympia is out on Thangan Seti dealing with something similar, though not as severe -- damned Vorta neglected to tell the locals how to deal with the waste left over from a munitions processing plant.”

 

Swain couldn’t help but sour. For all the talk the Dominon had been making of allowing local systems to have freedom he couldn’t ignore that they were also shirking responsiblity for the people whose lives and worlds they’d ruined.

 

“Meanwhile both our medical ships are out now too -- the Ascelpius has been dispatched now too to help deal with a severe out break of Thefellion Flu on Dagrel.”

 

“Thefellion Flu?”

 

Abronvonvich nearly growled. “Yes, I assume you’ve never heard of it -- we hadn’t either. Apparently its something the Dominion cooked up or something ... at any rate the locals, as you can guess, were ill equipped to deal with a full scale epidemic and the Dominion couldn’t be bothered.”

 

“Rather cruel isn’t it?”

 

“They’re sending a message,” Abronvonvich said. “Though not the one I think they intend.”

 

“Luckily for them, we’re around, eh?”

 

Abronvonvich nodded. “So long as we continue to have the resources.”

 

Swain nodded. “What about the Hundred, sir?”

 

“The Hundred,” the Admiral said gruffly. “Are doing their best, but unfortunately we cannot coordinate our efforts with them … officially.”

 

Lifting a brow, Swain shook his head. “Unofficially?”

 

“They’re helping where they can. Their resources are spread a lot thinner than Semil would like to let on.”

 

Swain didn’t know as much about the situation as he would like, but he’d been keeping busy by reading as many reports and briefings as he could get his hands on. Nodding he leaned back into the chair. “I understand.Quite the mess we’ve gotten ourselves into.”

 

Leaning back in his chair, Abronvonvich sighed and ran his hands through his silver hair. “You can say that again. Between the Dominion pull back and all of the mess that’s leaving and the Al-Ucard and Eratian Rebellions …”

 

“Out of curiosity,” Swain said. “How is the latter going?”

 

Frowning, the white hair admiral stood up and gestured to the window, as if the war were outside his window. “Luckily,” he said, “the outer reaches of Al-Ucard, Eratian and Scorpiad space aren’t on our door step, or we’d have a mess on our hands.”

Nodding, Swain exhaled himself. “I’ve tried to read up on the reports. Looks like the fighting is more limited towards Scorpiad homespace, not the newer conquered territories.”

 

“So far,” Abronvonvich acknowledged. “Of course thats another problem. They conquered a pretty large swath of space during their war with the Dominion, but I don’t think they have a real grasp on it.”

 

“That’s what the Eratians were made for though, correct?”

 

“Mmhm. The Scorpiads figured out a long time ago that they couldn’t hold onto huge tracts of space if they had to continually micro-manage it.”

 

“So they made the Eratians to ‘manage’ indigenous populations by systematically culling them ever so often.”

 

“Well the ones who’s worlds didn’t have resources they wanted.”

 

Swain shook his head. “Sounds familiar.”

 

It was a generalization that Abronvonvich had considered all to often. “For all their differences biologically -- the Founders and the Scorpiad have a lot in common.”

 

“A will to dominate, a fear of outsiders, a penchant for installing themselves as gods...”

 

“Except the Founders had the courtesy to check out.”

 

The off-cuff remark caught Swain off guard. Unlike his predecessor, Asher Swain hadn’t spent years in clandestine service refining how to hide true feelings. His eyebrows shot up.

 

“Checked out?”

 

Realizing his indiscretion, Abronvonvich blanched for a moment. “I shouldn’t have said that,” he finally admitted. “But you’re going to find out sooner or later, I suppose.”

 

“Find out what?”

 

“This is of course, classified material -- above your clearance -- so I guess its time to find out how much I can trust the new commanding officer of the Excalibur.”

 

Swain nodded. This was new ground for him. He’d spent the last ten years out on the edges exploring and as best he could remember it was during the Dominion War when he’d last heard the word classified. Still, he couldn’t help but feel intrigued and in some way honored that the Admiral felt comfortable enough talking to him to presume a level of intimacy.

“Of course, Sir.”

 

“Call me Misha.”

 

Asher smiled. “I’ll try too, si... Misha.”

 

Abronvonvich shook his head. “Anyway as I was saying, about two and half years ago, the Federation became aware that the Founders had gone into a deep isolation.”

 

Swain’s eyebrows perked again. “Not to be … well … a snert, but that’s pretty common knowledge, I thought.”

 

“That they’re in isolation is, yes,” Abronvonvich said waiving a hand. “But this is different. Two and half years ago, Weyoun disclosed that the Founders had gone into an even deeper isolation, essentially abandoning the Dominion. Last year, the Excalibur at the request of the Vorta Council mounted an expedition into deep space to locate a device that would enable to the Vorta to contact the Founders.”

 

Swain nodded, though he was deeply troubled by this new revelation. He was even more troubled that Excalibur had been part of such a unusual arrangement. Just what had Corizon gotten them into -- actually a better question, he’d decided, was what hadn’t Corizon gotten them into over the last several years.

 

“And?”

 

“They eventually recovered it.”

 

Swains brows arched higher, into, what he assumed, a posture that would have made a Vulcan envious -- if they would admit to it. “I see.”

 

“Basically Odo told them they’re on their own.”

 

“And just how long can the Vorta keep that hidden?”

 

“That’s the million brick question, isn’t it?”

 

Swain sighed. “As if things around here weren’t chaotic enough.”

 

“Exactly. And now we’ve got these blasted raiders.”

 

“I am assuming that’s why you’ve got two Sovereign-classes sitting outside.”

 

“That would be correct. I don’t think they’ll take a swipe at us directly. I mean they’re getting bolder. A few months ago these were isolated incidents restricted to the less traveled systems and shipping routes -- but last few weeks they’ve inched closer to major trade routes.”

 

“I see. What do you know about them?”

 

“They’re using whatever they can get their hands on, ship-wise. The place is fast becoming a booming market for weapons smugglers. We’re not sure how organized they are yet, we’re working on it.”

 

Swain nodded his understanding.

 

“I decided to bring the big guns in to show the flag,” Abronvonvich said. “They’ll think twice about attacking the more local convoys if there’s two Federation battleships hanging out.”

 

“I would hope.”

 

“Which brings me to you and the Excalibur.”

 

“You’ll be getting new orders soon,” Abronvonvich said sitting back down at his desk. “Excalibur is going to be sent along with the Cape Horn and the Valorous to meet up with a convoy of refugees en route from the Korale sector and escort their convoy to Camelot.”

 

Convoy duty. Swain couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. He was, at his heart, a scientist and explorer and convoy duty wasn’t his idea of fun -- nor was it what he set out to do when he applied to the academy. Still, he knew what he’d signed on for when he took the job. Standing, straightening his uniform, he came to an easy attention.

 

“Understood, sir.”

 

“They’ll be more details for you when the orders come through; hopefully won’t be anything you can’t handle. ”

 

“You said it was a convoy of refugees?”

 

“Yes,” the Admiral said. “Hakarans. There will be more about them in the brief. The Federation has given them a planet in the Alpha Quadrant -- Omicron Beta V.”

 

“I can’t imagine they’d have anything of value for raiders to hit.”

 

“Normally, no, but they do have fourteen Federation transports that might interest them.”

 

“Federation transports? That’s not usual.”

 

“They needed ships,” Abronvonvich said. “We were able to provide them.”

 

“Anything I need to know, in particular?”

 

The crag-faced Admiral got the implied meaning. When he’d first met the Captain, he’d promised, to try and limit the cloak and dagger routines. Besides he had a right to know.

 

“On a need to know basis, Captain...”

 

It was always something. “Yes?”

 

“Starfleet Intelligence is very interested in debriefing a number of their leaders.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“It will become clearer once you’ve had a chance to read the brief, but yes, please keep that in mind. This is a top priority.”

 

“Of course, sir. If there’s nothing else, I should be going, I am sure you’ve got a busy calender.”

 

The Admiral nodded. “As do you. There is one more thing.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I’m reassigning the the Vatican as the lead ship of the Clarent-fleet.”

 

Swain nodded. It meant very little to him honestly, and the decision was understand able. Excalibur had been considered a lead ship of the fleet because of Corizon’s experience with fleet operations. While a more veteran commanding officer, Swain had little in the way of practical experience with fleet operations and he was more than happy to hand that off.

 

“Captain Varen should be receiving his own orders in that regard fairly soon as well.”

 

“Irae?”

 

“You know him?”

 

Swain nodded, neutrally. “The Sentinel and Pei Xiu worked together on a number of missions during the war, but we graduated the Academy together.”

 

“Ah, yes. You’re both Stellar Cartographers, aren’t you?”

 

“In my spare time.”

 

Abronvonvich smirked widely. “Well happy accident for you to know the CO of the lead ship of your group.”

 

Swain nodded. “Aye. Is the Vatican due into port soon? I’d actually like to say hello to Irae.”

 

Nodding the Admiral continued to smirk. “She should be docking later this evening.”

 

“Well then, if you’ll excuse me, Admiral?”

 

“Of course, you’re dismissed Captain.”

 

“Oh... one more thing.”

 

Abronvonvich had already started working on something but looked up. “Yes?”

 

“About how long should my crew expect to have for leave?”

 

Leaning back, Abronvonvich considered. “The Cape Horn is due in two days.”

 

“Understood.”