Planning Session

[Cptn Corizon 0]

Silence. Sheer and utter, it permeated the Round Table room. Of the three military commanders in the room, none of them had ever experienced such a shocking turn of events in recent memory. Corizon looked at the Romulan and Klingon before him, the Admiral and the Governor, respectively seemed close to re-declaring war on the Dominion, and Corizon was not far behind himself.

 

“The nerve of that pe’Taq,” K’Vorlag finally said what the other two were thinking, though the expletive was likely interchangeable.

 

“To borrow from your Vulcan friend,” tr’Shaelon looked at Corizon, then to K’Vorlag, “The Vorta’s actions were most imprudent.”

 

“After all we’ve done for them and their gods,” Corizon let a low, muffled growl at as his ears stayed pinned to either side of his head, “The first time we ask them for something…”

 

Letting silence return for a few moments Corizon sighed weakly. “No matter,” he regained his composure, “We need to begin preparing for what may come before us.”

 

“Agreed,” K’Vorlag said, though his frustration with the Vorta cleared showed in his expression. “But let us all be honest with each other.”

 

Looking pointedly, “What do you mean to imply?”

 

“I think,” Corizon interjected eager to avoid a confrontation between the allies, “Is that none of us have been completely honest with each other until now.”

 

Nodding, “We all know that none of us escaped the Battle of Karema or Sector 42-GX with out heavy casualties,” K’Vorlag returned to the mug of bloodwine Perfect had left on the table, it’s frosting all but melted.

 

Putting his hands to his chin and stroking thoughtfully, the Romulan Admiral wanted to measure his response carefully. Though they were allies, and they had a common goal, there were certain precautions he would still take. Finally opening his mouth to speak, “Our losses were indeed on par with what I’ve seen preliminarily from your fleets,” he kept his tone flat and business like. “Our combined forces are certainly adequate to defend against the sort of conventional forces we each saw in battle…”

 

“However,” Corizon reminded him, “It is more likely we’re going to be dealing with a Scorpiad force…I don’t have to tell you that they are superior to either the Al-Ucard or the…”

 

“Eretan.”

 

“Right,” Corizon continued. “We’re not going to be able to go head-on into a direct battle with the Scorpiads…not with our forces depleted the way they are.”

 

“As much as it pains me to admit,” K’Vorlag said placing the empty bloodwine down, “He’s right and we all know it.”

 

“Then what shall we do,” Corizon said almost distantly.

 

The collective minds of the three stirred for what seemed like an eternity, each opening his mouth several times, as if to suggest something before closing it sharply.

 

“We could,” Corizon started for the eighth time, the others not even looking up. “Use their own tactics against them…”

 

Finally an idea, the Romulan and the Klingon looked up with twinkles in their eyes. “Their own tactics,” Khevio repeated.

 

“Distract them with big motions while something else goes on.”

 

“A bit obvious don’t you think?”

 

“Perhaps,” Corizon noted, “but that’s the beauty of the plan.”

 

“What did you have in mind,” K’Vorlag said, leaning towards his compatriots.

 

“First,” Corizon said, “Dispatch your scouts…we can start planning better once we know what we’re up against…”