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Cptn Swain

Diplomatic Adventures

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.

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