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Tristan Xenatos

"War and Politics"

Shadows danced in the dim illumination as Tristan walked along the viewport in his quarters. He stopped and turned towards the star lines streaking by, lifting his thin tall glass to his lips. The deep red liquid within the glass was tart, but with a subtle sweetness to the finish.


His eyes glanced from the viewport to the padd that lay blinking on the table situated to the left in the main room of his quarters. The reason behind much of Tristan’s pacing lay in the headline sprawled across the top of the padd’s display.


Elasian Conflict Stirs

Federation News Service


Recent events on Elasia had been disturbing to say the least. Tensions such as these had not stirred in the Halls of N’Dak since the war with Troyius. The capital city of Cor Capitalia buzzed with an air of worry and dread, the tension centering around the threats and demands of the new leader of the Isian Free State.


Tristan sighed heavily. The report he had just read did not bode well for an easy solution. And he knew that that report barely scraped the surface of what was happening on his homeworld. Tristan knew the government on Elasia, he knew the offices and the people that filled them. He also knew the beings standing in the shadows behind those in office. Nothing was as it seemed.


He took another long sip from his glass then crossed his arms, resting the lip of the glass on his bicep. His father was no doubt in session with the Council of Six at this very moment. Corineth had always supported the Dohlman, and they would no doubt do so in this as well.


Support the Dohlman, the phrase rang though Tristan’s mind, the mere fact that there were two different sides to support meant trouble. Once lines were drawn and sides were taken, things rarely were settled civilly.


Tristan brought the side of the glass to his forehead, thankful for the cool kiss of the polished surface. He closed his eyes as he allowed his thoughts to come to the heart of the issue. He should be sitting at his father’s side at this time. He should be helping his country, his people, his world… Instead, he was aboard this vessel halfway across the known galaxy barreling towards a conflict that did not truly concern him or the Federation.


Tristan did not regret his decision to leave Elasia or to join the Federation. The pomp and prestige of the world of politics was simply not for him, though it was in his very blood. This did not negate the fact, however, that as the son of Viktor Xenatos he had a responsibility to Corineth, as well as to Elasia as a whole. He removed the glass from his forehead feeling the numb sensation of his chilled skin against the warm air in the room.


Draining the remaining liquid from the glass, he set it down on the table. Moving his hand to the left he picked up the padd displaying the article. Scrolling down a few paragraphs he came to the section that had peaked his interest earlier.


Traditionally, the leader of these planetary armed forces has been the leader of the province of Rohland, the Lord Regent. However, in recent years, the de facto leader has been the ranking military general at the time, as the current Lord Regent, Koshic V, has been off planet, serving in Starfleet aboard the starship USS Arcadia.


Tristan felt a pang of sympathy for the Lord Regent, being that he too had left Elasia and the life that was planned for him. The difference was that N’Dak was going back, he was returning to fulfill his duties to his world. Tristan could not begin to fully understand N’Dak’s situation, his responsibility to Elasia was far greater then any of Tristan’s responsibilities. But yet, N’Dak was going back, he was accepting what Elasia needed rather then what he wanted. Tristan again closed his eyes, his face twisting physically in response to his mental pain. Suddenly he flicked his wrist, sending the padd whirling across the room smashing into the far wall with a metallic clank, then clattering to the floor.


Tristan walked to the replicator and took another glass of maroon liquid from it. Walking back to the viewport, he physically began to calm, though the mental storm raged stronger then ever. He sipped at his drink calmly and smoothly, as he had been taught by his etiquette teachers. He stood staring out into the stars as they streaked by. There was nothing he could do at this time, he mentally reassured himself. The battle with the Al-Ucard was nigh approaching, and every officer would be needed to survive it. He would have to put personal things aside and fight. He would be damned if he was going to die out here for a cause not even his own. Taking another long sip Tristan calmed his mind, pushing away the gray clouds and pushing his mind to focus once again.


Glancing off to his side he saw the padd laying on the floor in multiple pieces. He was troubled by his uncharacteristic action. Sighing he lay the half empty glass beside its empty doppelganger on the table and walked over to the shattered padd. Kneeling down he collected the pieces and deposited them into the replicator to be recycled. As they simmered away, a change outside the viewport caught Tristan’s eye. The starlines compacted into dots as the Excalibur dropped from warp. “And so it begins…” Tristan said absent mindedly as a quote his philosophy professor at the Academy had taught him rang through his ears.


Politics is war without bloodshed while war is politics with bloodshed.

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