Meanwhile, Back at Camelot (II)

[Cptn Swain 0]

“You’ve lost your damn mind Alex.”

 

Alexander Calypsos sat solemnly in the expansive office of Vice-Admiral Misha Abronvonvich being berated by his superior officer. He had expected it, frankly. He’d spent nearly an hour rehearsing what he would say when the Admiral called him into his office over his chief engineer’s refusal to follow his commands regarding station dockyard priorities and procedures. It was little wonder, he considered, that the crag-faced admiral had earned an ursine nickname. They were in what he counted as the fourth such rendition of the same refrain in the last ten minutes.

 

Finally, Alexander held up a hand. “Admiral, if I may?”

 

Misha’s face was red from blustering. He was unaccustomed to having to lecture the station’s commander and it was clearly upsetting to him that he had to do it now. What was it with the younger generation of commanders these days? There were days, he considered, that he truly missed Ah-Windu Corizon. Say whatever you wanted to about him, but he followed orders.

 

“Fine! Say whatever it is you want to say.”

 

Happy to finally get a word in edgewise, Alexander took a deep breath before reciting what he’d practiced. “I understand your point, sir. In fact, I partially agree with you on the subject. At a time when we’ve got rebellions cropping up and the raiders running roughshod over the area, we need to have our forces ready to respond. However, and I say this with all due respect, I cannot in good conscience direct my officers to follow this order. It goes against every treaty stipulation...”

 

“Oh for hell’s sake Alex,” Misha said tiredly. “Stop acting like a damn Vulcan. That she-wolf of an engineer is just pissed I am messing with her fiefdom.”

 

Alexander shook his head. “That may be true, sir, but she there is merit to her complaint. I pulled the relevant passag...”

 

“Oh for god sake,” Misha said waving a hand wildly. “You’re really going to bring politics into this? The hell happened to you? I thought I knew you better than that, I thought you understood what it took to manage this hellhole of a quadrant. Listen I am sure there’s lines and lines of treaty regulations -- hell knowing the idiots who schemed up this place there’s no doubt a stipulation barring the use of a head on the third tuesday of each month because they didn’t want to offend some deity.”

 

“Admiral,” It was odd for Alexander to refer to Misha by rank, as they’d long developed a rather amicable relationship that included weekly luncheons and late evenings at Ambrosia talking about anything other than duty, but he found it prudent now. “I understand your frustrations, but the facts at the facts. Now she’s willing to discuss prioritizing all military traffic over civilian, but the regs are very clear that Starfleet,Klingon and Romulan ships are to be given equal status, that means...”

 

“I am not a cadet,” Misha growled. “Damn you. You know I can order you to do it, and you know damn well I will throw your ass in the brig if you don’t.”

 

“With all due respect, Admiral. If you order me, I will be obliged to follow those orders, but I will do so under protest and I will be forced to contact your superiors to lodge my complaints should you ‘throw my ass in the brig.’ Additionally, if I did carry out your orders, then Erei’Riov t’Faelo would also be forced to make the same decisions and would undoubtedly file a formal protest with the Romulan military liaison, who would no doubt tell the Romulan ambassador -- who I think only needs the barest pretense to start a fight with you. And what we really need right now, if I may be so frank, is a full-blown diplomatic farcas with the Romulans over you being a blowhard. I am sure your superiors, Admiral, who’ve spent something like the last two years negotiating an agreement with the Romulans over Lyonesse will be absolutely thrilled that the bear woke the hornet’s nest over something so trivial in the larger scope of things.”

 

Misha didn’t respond for what seemed an uncomfortably long moment, and Alexander wondered if he’d been a little too frank. “First it was that damned Swain, now you? What’s next my Yeoman?”

 

“Admiral,” Alexander started before he was interrupted.

 

“Oh shut up,” Misha said brusquely. “I know you’re right. It doesn’t mean I have to like it, dammit.”

 

Alexander eased somewhat and exhaled. Silence swallowed the room for a moment before he spoke again. “So, these raiders are getting bolder.”

 

“I know,” Misha said, clearly given over to his frustrations. “I swear to everything holy on five different planets, for a government that ruled for a thousand years so efficiently, they’re really screwing up.”

 

Stifling a chuckle, Alexander nodded. “I think they’re in uncharted waters, to be honest. They’ve ever had their authority questioned, and I don’t think Vorta know what to do about it either. They’ve always been so assured in their purpose, but now... well ... in some ways I am almost sorry for them.”

 

“I am not,” Misha said flatly. “In fact, I’d rather they just gave up the ghost en masse and got it over with, would make this all a little easier.”

 

“Then we’d have more than just raiders to deal with.”

 

“There you go again, ruining all my fun!”

 

“Have I mentioned, sir, you have a strange idea of fun?”

 

Misha smirked, clearly having moved beyond his grumpiness over the issue with the Camelot engineer. “You do bring up a good point though. If traders are considering avoiding the area, we need to rethink our patrols. Get in touch with Ambassador Samar and have him setup a sit down with traders, the Romulans and the Klingons. Maybe between everyone we can workout a plan to better organize our patrols around the actual flight plans of the traders and vice-versa.”

 

Alexander coughed. “Not to be a snit, but wouldn’t this be a better task for one of your staff members?”

 

A brief wave of annoyance flushed over the Admiral’s face before clearing. “Oh... sorry,” he said. “I sometimes forget you actually have a station to run. I’ll have Thomas set it up, though you should attend as well. I need someone in that room with a good head on their shoulders and who understands what this is really like.”

 

The captain nodded. “Of course. One other thing...”

 

“Yes?”

 

“What are your plans for dealing with these raiders. They’re way too organized, way to well armed to just be thugs.”

 

Misha bristled. The raiders were becoming an ever growing threat and something would need to be done with them. “I haven’t fully decided yet. Varen thinks we need to hit them hard, and its not that I don’t agree, but in my experience, that’s easier said than done.”

 

Alexander knew that the Admiral had been involved with the Maquis and it went without saying that no one really wanted to relive that particular debacle. “I know you’re going to think I am crazy,” Misha said, “But there are days I really do wish Corizon was back in the uniform. He was a handful, to be sure, and I don’t miss explaining him away everytime he riled some politician or higher up, but he was damn good at sniffing out messes like this; hell knowing him, he would have already been knee deep in getting rid of the sorry sons of a bitches.”

 

“And broken a half-a-dozen regulations in the process, no doubt.”

 

Misha shrugged. There wasn’t any point in arguing it, in fact, had it only been a half-a-dozen and not a full dozen regulations, Misha would have likely considered himself lucky.

 

“And what do our allies think?”

 

The surly Russian’s grumpy demeanor returned in full force at mention of their allies. “K’Vorlag’s the only sensible one, but he doesn’t have the force to do anything about it. He’s asked Chancellor Martok for more ships, but Martok is hesitant. He’s worried that the High Council will frown on throwing more resources into the quadrant. The Klingons aren’t merchants and they barely do any business here; I can’t blame him, but doesn’t make my job easier.”

 

“What about the Romulans? They have...”

 

“Oh screw them. Yes, they have a base on the planet, but so long as its safely protected by Avalon, I am fairly sure they could care less. Their current government -- which seems to change more often than I change underwear -- is reluctant for the same reasons the Klingons are, truth be told, I think they’re afraid to put many of their big ships away from homeworld, least things go to hell in a handbasket at home. On top of that, the Khre’Riov is about to be transferred back home, and she’s taking a good chunk of her forces with her, so I think she’s even more reluctant to commit them long term. This on top of them delaying Lyonesse has really got a burr up my ass if you hadn’t noticed.”

 

“I had,” Alexander said with a grin. “So t’Laeii got her ticket out? Good for her I suppose. Do we know who they’re replacing her with?”

 

“As if the Romulans would tell us.”

 

“Good point.” Though that all seemed to explain why he was spoiling for for a fight with the Romulans over the repairs.

 

“And I assume the Dominion is mum on the matter?”

 

“Of course. You know the Vorta, never shut up when you want them to, never say what you want them too.”

 

Alexander nodded. “Well there’s always the Hundr...”

 

“Absolutely not.” Misha bellowed. “Didn’t you just complain about Corizon? The day I go begging that lackwit Semil for help...”

 

So he was fine letting Corizon do his dirty work for him, well that cleared some things up. “I see, well then what exactly do you propose to do about it? We’re stretching our resources pretty thin already, especially with having to do fabrication for your new arrays in addition to Lyonesse, remind me again why DS9 couldn’t handle some of this?”

 

“The Romulans,” Misha spat, “Insisted on being able to inspect anything going through the wormhole to make sure we weren’t installing some sort of BLOW UP THE WORMHOLE device -- where the hell would they get an idea like that anyway?”

 

“Corizon.” Alexander didn’t even bother mincing words.

 

“Bah,” the Admiral grunted. “They knew about that, hell they signed off on it. Not that I told you that. They only give a crap when it’s convenient for them.”

 

“I am sure they say the same about us,” he added, trying to steer the conversation away from the Romulans, and onto productive matters. “At any rate, it’s put a strain on Avalon and Camelot’s resources. I am sure you’ve read both the Colonel and my own reports. And if traders stop coming through, our resource problem will only get worse. We need to put a stop to these raiders.”

 

“We need someone in the field,” Misha said. “Problem is most of these rats go to ground the second a Starfleet ship gets near. They have to operating out of one of the newly freed ports no doubt. For now I don’t know what more we can do than step up our patrols. I’ve asked Fleet for more resources, but they’re hesitant...”

 

It was becoming a theme. “Let me guess, they’re afraid of pissing off the Romulans, the Klingons or Dominion?”

 

“We have a winner.”

 

“You know I don’t envy you at all.”

 

“No one does.”