Foes and Confidants

[Semil 0]

The following is a joint log with Sorehl, taking place at the Avalon Colony below Camelot Station. My contributions are highlighted in green.

 

"Hello," came the pleasant greeting, almost a drawl.

 

Sorehl looked over his shoulder. He was struck by the incongruity of a simplistic, innocent salutation from a being capable of such unfathomable duplicity and deception. On a hillside near his home on Avalon, the Vulcan turned from his stooped position to look up at the slight form of the Vorta.

 

He patted his son on the backside, encouraging him to join his older sister. "Go see T'Ael," he prompted. "Go climb."

 

The Vorta's eyes followed the boy, not yet two years old, as he toddled up the hill toward a wooden structure. "Vulcan family values," Semil commented. "The 'next good thing' you moved onto?"

 

Sorehl stood, brushing the blades of grass from his knees. "A pursuit no less, and perhaps more, worthy. And one that I never truly left." He wondered how the Vorta had come to quote words from a private conversation now several years old, but kept the question to himself. He had long since learned that there was little chance in learning the source of such detailed intelligence.

 

Semil mused silently for a moment, then noted, "No doubt Commander Blair informed you of my coming."

 

Sorehl nodded. Had the house's proximity alert failed to reach him, the Camelot Station XO made certain to advise him each time the Vorta requested beam-down to the colony. Especially when he didn't come alone. Sorehl resisted the temptation to look for the Jem'Hadar escort, who was doubtlessly shrouded, invisibly watching his charge. He found it mildly threatening to have a creature of such lethality near his children, but recognized the protection it also offered. Semil had enemies. In fact, he mused, the Vorta had little else.

 

It had been two months since Blair explained that Semil wanted an unofficial audience with the Federation. Since the Hundred were not recognized as a distinct political entity, they could not exchange formal ambassadors. Semil had pressed for informal discussions with his retired foe, as proxy. This would be the third such visit.

 

The Vulcan gestured toward the steps which led to the terrace overlooking the hill and surrounding trees. It was late enough in the day that the mists had burned off, clinging only to the lowest clefts and shadowed areas. The axial tilt of Avalon was negligible, providing a year-round uniformity. The weather was cool, moist, and temperate with little seasonal variation, so the forests grew wide and large, with abundant foliage.

 

Climbing the steps behind Semil, his mind flashed back to the first diplomatic overture he'd been ordered to make to the Dominion, during the first months of the war. That encounter had led to his imprisonment, the lies and illusions they had used to confuse him, and the unfortunate necessities of his escape. Deception and loss seemed to swirl in the wake of the Vorta.

 

But the informal meetings had been revealing, especially since it was clear Semil wanted Sorehl to report their conversations. Despite their low-key presence, the Hundred had broad awareness of events in the Quadrant, even supposedly secret ones inside the Dominion. Although his clearance was still active, Sorehl was no longer privy to Starfleet operations and briefings. In passing along intelligence from the Hundred, he had learned a great deal that his reserve status would have kept from him.

 

During their first meeting, Semil admitted the Hundred knew about a classified mission Excalibur was conducting for the Dominion. He claimed to have confronted attaché Jeralla Ramson and Larell Tekyier, the ship's operations officer, about it months earlier. He noted that the Hundred had not exercised a threat to reveal the nature of the Founder's silence to the worlds of the Dominion, but they were observing Excalibur carefully. Indeed, the intimate level of detail they possessed suggested they either had an operative on the Vorta Council or aboard the ship itself.

 

In their second meeting, Semil had expressed concern over escalations in the Scorpiad civil war, including the outright decimation of several Al-Ucard colonies. The Vorta had actually tried to argue a moral imperative for Federation intervention. Sorehl had noted this argument was probably intended for his wife, Ambassador T'Salik, who was serving as official liaison to the Scorpiad representative at Camelot. Since knowledge of the insurrection was limited to observations by exploratory craft, battle details were welcomed and confirmed by Tactical Command.

 

During their last discussion, Semil had lauded Starfleet for frustrating an attempted Romulan incursion into the Gamma Quadrant. "During the war," he'd sneered distastefully, "we should never have shared our plan to create our own cross-quadrant wormhole with them." Sorehl had been forced to admit he had no knowledge of such an event, but if true, it was a testament to Romulan engineering. The Dominion attempt had ended disastrously, wiping out an entire system in Cardassian space. Semil insisted the event had happened, weapons fire and all, and asked compliments be sent to the starship Reaent when it eventually arrived at Camelot for repairs.

 

In all, the teachings of Surak had proven wise. Although Sorehl knew what the Vorta agent was capable of, overcoming his personal distaste had provided useful knowledge to the Federation - at the very least easing tensions with the Hundred. What would he learn today?

 

Reaching the top of the steps, he dismissed the musing. On the terrace, he gestured toward an elevated flagstone bench and initiated the session. "What brings you to Avalon this morning?"

 

* * * * *

 

The Vulcan girl leaned against the cool plexisteel that separated the interior dining space from the terrace. She watched her father take a seat across the firepit from the alien visitor. After a moment, she heard a faint rustling behind her, marking her mother's transit across the room.

 

"Mother," she asked, not turning around, "why does he keep coming here?"

 

There was a pause, as if considering the answer. "It is no secret," T'Salik replied. "He comes to converse with your father."

 

T'Kel turned away from the window. "But why? He hates him."

 

The ambassador scrutinized her daughter uncertainly. "I am not certain one can ascribe emotional..."

 

"But after what he did," she interrupted, "why would he think father will help him?"

 

T'Salik folded her arms, resting them on her swollen belly. It would be only a matter of weeks before the next addition joined their home. "It is unlikely he is seeking help for himself," she explained. "He knows your father is not inclined to be a... charitable audience. Potentially, that makes him a more powerful advocate."

 

"That doesn't make any sense," the girl protested.

 

"Only Nixon could go to China."

 

* * * * *

 

"They have found it," Semil declared. When the Vulcan showed no sign of response, he elaborated. "The device for communicating with the Founders." He paused.

 

"I can neither confirm nor deny facts of which I am unaware," Sorehl observed.

 

Semil frowned. "The Hundred have no interest in preventing this," he explained, "but they will not allow themselves to be excluded from contact with the Great Link. If the Founders break the silence, their heirs will not be satisfied with the Vorta Council as their spokesman."

 

Sorehl stared evenly. "Should you not be speaking to the Dominion about this?"

 

"Don't be foolish," Semil scoffed. "They'll deny everything. Keevan denies they lost contact with the Founders in the first place. Taenix denies they even need contact. And Lexin is so desperate that he agreed to solicit secret help from Starfleet." He looked away. "The only reason the Hundred hasn't announced the Founders' absence is fear the Jem'Hadar will revolt and kill all the subjects they hope to rule. But if the Vorta try to keep the Founders to themselves..."

 

The Vulcan shifted his weight, leaning an open palm against the rough, warm surface of the flagstone. "I don't understand," he admitted.

 

"You have heard Eloi preach of tolerance and self-determination," Semil reminded him, "but you'd be wrong to think other members of the Hundred see the galaxy as he does." The Vorta looked conflicted, almost pained. "They see themselves as children of estranged parents who sent them out to be persecuted by the solids, then came back to an empty house and a languishing inheritance. They think my people have corrupted the purity of Founder rule. Worse, they think the Great Link has been polluted by Odo and the disease introduced by the Federation.

 

"Until now, they've been content to lure worlds and converts, preserving the empire they intend to win. But if they think the Founders will come back," he paused, leveling his own stare, "they may be willing to destroy the whole Quadrant to keep the disease from spreading..."

Edited March 30, 2009 by Semil