Intergalactic Games of Chicken

[Einya trAeolix 0]

Ten years had passed since the man commanding the fleet of Romulan vessels on approach to Cardassian space had last found himself headed towards the planet he and his fellow soldiers had once eyed as the ultimate goal. Then he'd been but a mere Captain and commanded a small attack squadron lead by his flagship, the war-worn Winged Death; now he was a Rear Admiral charged with elements of three tactical wings and commanded them from the one bridge of one of the finest warbirds to ever be launched, the War Eagle.

 

The greatest of anticipations had come over him towards the end of the conflict, when the great fleets of the allies amassed and headed for Cardassia, destruction on the mind. Like so many of his cohorts from his Academy class, he feared he would not return, would not survive that awful, bloody conflict; yet in spite of the most dogged attempts by the Cardassians, the Breen and the Jem'Hadar he had survived. He considered, after the war was over and the fleets headed to their respective homes, joining the numerous commanders who decided they had served their empires and retired. After all, he'd served nearly thirty-seven years in the Galae, nearly all of his 60 years in this existence, selflessly sacrificing his body, soul and occasional mental sanity to protect the empire he loved.

 

In the end, it was that call – the one that brought him into the Galae now almost forty-seven years before – that had kept him serving. When his ship finally did return to the Two Worlds, he and his men were among the honored soldiers. He was, if you could call it that, rewarded with a promotion to his current and given the charge of protecting the outlaying systems near the small, developing race known as the Kumani. It had been a quiet, if not welcomed assignment. After so much violence, so much bloodshed; peace had come welcome with open arms to he and his crew who'd shook down the War Eagle in relative peace, with only sporadic dust-ups with the local Kumani or an occasional run-in with Arati Pirates.

 

When he'd received the orders recalling him to Romulus to take command of elements of three tactical wings, the same sinking, etching anticipation returned into the pit of his stomach.

Romulus had gone through turbulent changes in the last years; four Praetors had rose and fell and a fifth was soon coming. The Empire at one moment moved boldly to assert itself, then in the next withdrew into the shadows only to rear the great wings of the Empire in radical fashion. Now was one of the later moments and he knew it.

 

Though he'd been in the Outlands, he had sources in the capitol who kept him up to date on the latest happenings in the Senate. He was to be sent to Cardassia to secure the Empire's holdings in the area, but this came not long since the senior Ambassador to the Cardassian Union along with a number of troops had been withdrawn, mirroring a similar action in the Gamma Quadrant. An observation made by dissident scholar came to mind, “the Senate and the Praetor, like the Empire herself is full of contradictions – at one moment they are both cunning and brilliant, able to make stunning moves of strategy and legislation, and yet at the same time their own ambition prevents them from achieving the ultimate goal of power... petty in-fighting and clashing ambition clouds their judgment....”

 

His thoughts wandered as his attention turned to the present. Rear Admiral Jaelin t'Lhen considered the scope of his orders, the implications and ramifications they could hold, silently he considered the intentions of those in the Senate.

 

Mingling thoughts returned to his last conversations with Imperial Command before leaving for Cardassia. It had been a small meeting in a quiet, secluded room in the bowls of the Senate building. Across from him had sat two senators, an aide to the Praetor-elect with Aeolix to his side.

 

“Then you mean to go through with this,” Aeolix said, his brow arched in a near Vulcan fashion. “I cannot stress strongly enough the care that should be taken before we...”

 

“Yes,” the aide to the Praetor said with a dismissive waive, “we've heard your objections Ambassador. Let me make something clear to you, you're participation in this event is not

because of we particularly agree with your... perspective but because you're years of service give you considerable weight on such issues in the minds of our allies.”

 

Aeolix and Lhen collectively sneered, but held back any remarks. Sensing the tension in the room, one of the Senators interjected himself. “The Senate and our Praetor, do not feel that

we can let the Ferengi claims go unchallenged – you yourself said that the station rightfully belongs to the Romulan people as much as anyone else.”

 

“Yes, but...”

 

“Senators, if I may,” Lhen said in a calm tone. “I believe what the Ambassador is trying to say is that our mixed-messages, our erratic commitment to the Aegis Project as it were, conveys to the allies a sense of... “

 

“Non-sense,” the young aide chided the seasoned Admiral. “You give them far to much credit. They know there has been some... domestic difficulties as of late, this sends a clear message that the Empire has moved beyond those divisions and is ready to assert itself in intergalactic policies again.”

 

“Are we?”

 

The three men across the table looked at Lhen as if he'd been speaking in Klingon. It took a moment for them to process it before they could respond, much too the delight of the

Ambassador and the Rear Admiral. “You doubt your own Galae,” came finally from the aide.

 

“I do not doubt the skill of any Romulan wearing the uniform, but what you suggesting, what you have proposed could provoke an intergalactic incident that could lead to war.”

 

“You fear the Ferengi?”

 

“Of course not,” Lhen spat, disgusted at that implication.

 

In a calmer tone Aeolix intervened, “I do not believe anyone doubts our ability to dispatch the Ferengi in an armed conflict, nor even the Cardassian Union, however the chances of opening our empire to attack from third parties such as the Breen or the Tholian Empires, is most troublesome.”

 

“All of this has been discussed in Senate,” one of the senators said. “You really think the Ferengi will carry this out to an armed conflict with the Romulan Star Empire?”

 

Aeolix and Lhen frowned in near unison, they had a point. “No.”

 

Lhen found his thoughts on the present once more as his operations officer informed him they were nearing Cardassian space. Adolescent Romulans had a game called Laihi'mo, in which they ran their flitters at each other at high speeds in a straight-line, the last one to pull away won; it was becoming increasingly clear that the Senate and the Praetor-Elect were now playing their own game of intergalactic Laihi'mo, he only hopped that someone blinked and the two flitters didn't collide.