Correcting The Situation

[FredM 0]

"Correcting The Situation."

Stardate 0511.26

 

 

The waves of the harbor were untimely for this period of the year, yet for some reason their continued presence seemed to only reinforce the mood of most who were able to see them. This was especially the case high in one of the few illuminated rooms overlooking the bay in the city's tallest skyscrapers. Here, somewhere above the one hundred and fifth floor, a man simply sat looking into the windows that acted as a backdrop to the office. The desk, made out of ancient oak, reflected the lightening as it occasionally flew across the sky. Outside of the lighting provided by the spectacular show the storm created, the only other illumination came from the lit fireplace on the other end of the room. The two items barely provided enough for someone to realize that two other figures were also in the room, sitting on the opposite side of the desk currently looking focusing their attention on the back of the man behind the desk.

 

Silence had been the name of the meeting from it's very beginning almost thirty minutes earlier. This had caused one of the other two figures in the room, a female Andorian, to wonder if their superior had fallen asleep. It wasn't necessarily impossible given his age and the fact it was only two in the morning. These thoughts were quickly erased when the man softly cleared his throat, "We have confirmed this?"

 

While not an odd question on the surface, it was once one realized the answer had in fact been given some time ago. The Bolian nodded slightly, "Yes...from three different sources." This man was actually the tallest of those in the room, a rare thing for someone of his species to claim. Older himself, his clothing reflected his decades of service and citations to back it up. The fact he was sitting here would have been viewed as something of an impossibility less than six hours ago, yet...the universe did have an odd way of working things out.

 

The man behind the desk slowly turned as the lightening out the window continued it's show. The figure had silver hair and looked to be no older than eighty Terran years in age. He wore no uniform, only a simple dark blue coat that he had grabbed assuming the late night interruption would be a simple task. His face did however show something else....an odd trait many aliens often missed in his presence. Scars, while not physically inflicted, had started to make themselves known. The result had been what some might call rapid aging, but others the simple result of stress for an extended period of time.

 

All these considerations aside, the figure's face changed drastically as he slammed his right fist on the table...causing the mug he had brought in to shatter to the floor. Where one might expect a tirade to follow, there was again a period of silence. The Andorian female lowered her antenna slightly, "As you are aware, our the timing of this incident could have been better. Current activity along most fronts has caused us to divert all serious assets to other locations. There has never been even a remote anticipation for..." It was odd, how did one describe the situation? Situation simply seemed lacking...catastrophe might better fit. However, given the situation, the female simply resorted to...silence.

 

Her counterpart, seeing the awkwardness of moment, cleared his own throat. "With the Second, Forth and Eighth Battle Groups currently attempting to old Nimbus...only the Tenth Support Group is en route. However, if the latest intelligence is correct...and given the speed at which they overtook the them...we can probably assume that 'storm' the First Fleet encountered two months ago was indeed no accident," the Bolian stated in the calmest voice he could.

 

The man glanced up from the desk and his focus on his fist, "Those vermin were exterminated...half a century ago...you were still playing with toys...EXTERMINATED DAMN YOU!" A voice from the far corner of the room responded, "An assessment that was clearly incorrect. If they were exterminated as all reports suggested, they seem to have an ability to regenerate that our scientists would find very useful." The female tone of the woman was dark, which was fitting given her demeanor. Less than six feet in height, she stood looking at a painting on the wall of the dimly lit office...arms folded behind her back.

 

"The logical course of action would be to deal with the situation promptly...and quickly," she stated calmly. The Bolian shook his head, "We are not equipped to handle a full on assault against the Breen Confederation. The resources required to fight three enemy at once simply aren't available and maintain order at the same time! We'd loose half of the..." He never got the chance to finish his remarks. With lightening speed, the man behind the desk had stood, moved around the desk and punched the blue skinned man in the face. Falling back in the chair, a loud thump echoed for a few seconds.

 

The man shook his head, "I don't give a damn about the Breen...nor do I really care about their vile friends. The priority is what's on that planet! It is everything! EVERYTHING! Do you understand me?!?" Slowly he looked up from the nose bleeding Bolian to the female Andorian, finally the shadowy figure in the corner. As the man started to approach the Vulcan woman, he pointed at the window, "I want it completed...it has to be completed! If it's not, everything we've worked to create will be destroyed."

 

For her part, the only response as a simple nod. The man smiled and patted the woman on the shoulders, "If only the entire universe was filled with people as loyal to the Federation as you Valeris." She turned and moved towards the door, "Mr. President, I will ensure this situation was corrected to serve our benefit."

 

Two days later, the question has turned into not if the situation could be corrected....but if they had enough time to do so.