Pro Patria Mori (Star Trek)
Posted: 2014-10-23 07:49am
Glittering lights marked the advent of a transporter beam by the dirt road that led up the hill. After the man finished materializing he raised his head to look up. Lines of dark vines sporting indigo berries grew in trestles around the hill's waist, with ring of orchard trees screening the house from below. Behind him, he knew, were scattered farmsteads and country houses that verged on being mansions and beyond them the lights and bustle of the city of Inshada. If one was generous enough to call Inshada a city instead of a town. Smiling ruefully, he started up the hill.
It only took him a few minutes to reach the house. There were walls and a security gate around the house proper, but the real defences were the sensor emplacements and transport scrambler. For a men with fewer and less dangerous enemies, the security systems would be a sign of paranoia instead of good sense.
The man stopped in front of the main gate. He addressed one of the sensors. "You've probably been watching me for the last five minutes. Open the gates or shoot me."
The gates slid open. "Thank you. I could use a drink."
"Come up to the house, old friend," A voice replied.
He walked up the path, through the modest garden, and up to the front door. It was gorgeously carved wood, of a variety he didn't recognize, stained a deep red-brown and marked with raptor images. It opened just as he was about to knock.
"It's been a long time," said Travelan. He looked young, for a Romulan on the other side of one hundred, and wore a dark tunic of silk weave marked with diagonal silver threads. His pants and boots were almost fleet issue. Sherdak's admiral's uniform was fleet issue as was the disruptor at his waist.
"It has," Sherdak replied. He looked closer to his age than his old comrade, despite what modern medicine could do for a man. The had once been near mirror images. Dark hair in identical hair cuts, olive skin, tall, and broad shouldered. Handsome and both shooting up the ranks only slightly slower than the speed of light. Now Sherdak's hair showed silver that he thought gave him a distinguished look so he didn't hide it and he was beginning to get a little thicker around the middle. Travelan, although retired, still looked like he could fit into his old cadet uniforms. "Too long."
Travelan stepped away from the door and down a wood paneled hall. He turned into a small room centered around a round wooden table and bathed in sunlight. "Take a seat," he said. Sherdak did. Travelan left and returned in a few moments with a crystal flagon of dark wine and two glasses.
He set one down in front of himself and the other in front of Sherdak. He poured, filling both. "Nice place you have here," said Sherdak. It must have cost though."
"Not that much," said Travelan. "Less than a hundred million people on this world and three quarters of them are on the other two continents. The land was next to free and with modern technology the construction costs weren't that high."
"I imagine not. And not that far from Romulus if you decide to visit. Not bad at all for sixty years of fleet service. A little empty though."
"Exile in disgrace turned our not to be something Ariennia could endure beyond a few years. Even if the reasons were honourable. I can't blame her. But you aren't here to ask about my marriage. So, tell me, which is it to be?"
"Excuse me?"
"There are only two reasons an old friend still in active service shows up at the house of a disgraced colleague. Don't bother to deny it. You're too career conscious for it to be a social call. So which is it?"
Sherdak lifted the glass and drank some wine. "Not bad. Yours?"
"Yes. I only started getting wine worthy of the name three years ago. So?"
Sherdak smiled. "Still too blunt and impatient for your own good, my friend. I did warn you."
"You did. You also haven't answered my question."
"Relax. I haven't been sent to suggest that you commit suicide for the good of the state. That would be an exercise in futility. You're far too stubborn to make it that easy on them. It's the other."
"Really?" Travelan asked.
"Really," he replied. "Time has been proving you right and embarrassing certain people, with whom you are certainly acquainted, at least embarrassing those who are still alive. The political climate has shifted. Certain reports of yours are being used as ammunition. The praetor wants you back and not just because of your good looks and your utility in hurting people in his way. He wants you for what your do best, and that's not politics."
"So we're going to get involved. Finally."
"It's looking inevitable. The Senate's arguing one side over the other, but either way its all out war with the survival of the Star Empire at stake."
"They can't seriously be considering allying with the Dominion after the Tal Shiar tried to exterminate the Founders. They won't forget that. Crushing anyone who might be a threat to the Founders is the reason for the foundation of their empire in the first place."
"You don't have to convince me, old friend, you just have to be . . . . judicious with who you share your opinions. You know, the thing that got you in trouble in the first place. Politics matter."
"Such has been demonstrated to me," Travelan said and took a sip of wine.
"Anyway, the idea of the Federation and the Klingons broken and ripe for plundering with the bulk of the Dominion far away in the distant Gamma Quadrant is proving attractive to those who don't want to believe how fast they're building shipyards and Jem'Hadar factories all over Cardassian Space. Fools. The praetor knows better and so does enough of the Senate, but no one wants to bleed when the Federation and the Klingons will do it for us."
"But war is coming."
"Either way, we'll get into the war. Sooner or later and the praetor thinks sooner. I think he's right. And now that you're no longer such a political liability, you're on the table."
"Or on the plate."
Sherdak dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "We've got to win this one and that is something you're very good at. So the praetor sent me, yes the praetor himself, sent me with the message. Your people will need you again. Very soon. All your honours and glory will be restored. A command worthy of you is being offered. Will you again serve your Empire and the Romulan people?"
"I don't know," Travelan said, looking at his glass. "I really think the Romulan Star Empire could use the services of a mediocre vintner more."
Both men laughed. Sherdak raised his glass. "May the Raptor Banner fly forever."
"To the banner," Travelan replied. They drank and Travelan put his glass down. "Your orders admiral?"
"You report for duty on Romulus tomorrow. I'll take you there. Which means we have time for one last evening as old friends. The mediocre wine isn't going to drink itself."
It only took him a few minutes to reach the house. There were walls and a security gate around the house proper, but the real defences were the sensor emplacements and transport scrambler. For a men with fewer and less dangerous enemies, the security systems would be a sign of paranoia instead of good sense.
The man stopped in front of the main gate. He addressed one of the sensors. "You've probably been watching me for the last five minutes. Open the gates or shoot me."
The gates slid open. "Thank you. I could use a drink."
"Come up to the house, old friend," A voice replied.
He walked up the path, through the modest garden, and up to the front door. It was gorgeously carved wood, of a variety he didn't recognize, stained a deep red-brown and marked with raptor images. It opened just as he was about to knock.
"It's been a long time," said Travelan. He looked young, for a Romulan on the other side of one hundred, and wore a dark tunic of silk weave marked with diagonal silver threads. His pants and boots were almost fleet issue. Sherdak's admiral's uniform was fleet issue as was the disruptor at his waist.
"It has," Sherdak replied. He looked closer to his age than his old comrade, despite what modern medicine could do for a man. The had once been near mirror images. Dark hair in identical hair cuts, olive skin, tall, and broad shouldered. Handsome and both shooting up the ranks only slightly slower than the speed of light. Now Sherdak's hair showed silver that he thought gave him a distinguished look so he didn't hide it and he was beginning to get a little thicker around the middle. Travelan, although retired, still looked like he could fit into his old cadet uniforms. "Too long."
Travelan stepped away from the door and down a wood paneled hall. He turned into a small room centered around a round wooden table and bathed in sunlight. "Take a seat," he said. Sherdak did. Travelan left and returned in a few moments with a crystal flagon of dark wine and two glasses.
He set one down in front of himself and the other in front of Sherdak. He poured, filling both. "Nice place you have here," said Sherdak. It must have cost though."
"Not that much," said Travelan. "Less than a hundred million people on this world and three quarters of them are on the other two continents. The land was next to free and with modern technology the construction costs weren't that high."
"I imagine not. And not that far from Romulus if you decide to visit. Not bad at all for sixty years of fleet service. A little empty though."
"Exile in disgrace turned our not to be something Ariennia could endure beyond a few years. Even if the reasons were honourable. I can't blame her. But you aren't here to ask about my marriage. So, tell me, which is it to be?"
"Excuse me?"
"There are only two reasons an old friend still in active service shows up at the house of a disgraced colleague. Don't bother to deny it. You're too career conscious for it to be a social call. So which is it?"
Sherdak lifted the glass and drank some wine. "Not bad. Yours?"
"Yes. I only started getting wine worthy of the name three years ago. So?"
Sherdak smiled. "Still too blunt and impatient for your own good, my friend. I did warn you."
"You did. You also haven't answered my question."
"Relax. I haven't been sent to suggest that you commit suicide for the good of the state. That would be an exercise in futility. You're far too stubborn to make it that easy on them. It's the other."
"Really?" Travelan asked.
"Really," he replied. "Time has been proving you right and embarrassing certain people, with whom you are certainly acquainted, at least embarrassing those who are still alive. The political climate has shifted. Certain reports of yours are being used as ammunition. The praetor wants you back and not just because of your good looks and your utility in hurting people in his way. He wants you for what your do best, and that's not politics."
"So we're going to get involved. Finally."
"It's looking inevitable. The Senate's arguing one side over the other, but either way its all out war with the survival of the Star Empire at stake."
"They can't seriously be considering allying with the Dominion after the Tal Shiar tried to exterminate the Founders. They won't forget that. Crushing anyone who might be a threat to the Founders is the reason for the foundation of their empire in the first place."
"You don't have to convince me, old friend, you just have to be . . . . judicious with who you share your opinions. You know, the thing that got you in trouble in the first place. Politics matter."
"Such has been demonstrated to me," Travelan said and took a sip of wine.
"Anyway, the idea of the Federation and the Klingons broken and ripe for plundering with the bulk of the Dominion far away in the distant Gamma Quadrant is proving attractive to those who don't want to believe how fast they're building shipyards and Jem'Hadar factories all over Cardassian Space. Fools. The praetor knows better and so does enough of the Senate, but no one wants to bleed when the Federation and the Klingons will do it for us."
"But war is coming."
"Either way, we'll get into the war. Sooner or later and the praetor thinks sooner. I think he's right. And now that you're no longer such a political liability, you're on the table."
"Or on the plate."
Sherdak dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "We've got to win this one and that is something you're very good at. So the praetor sent me, yes the praetor himself, sent me with the message. Your people will need you again. Very soon. All your honours and glory will be restored. A command worthy of you is being offered. Will you again serve your Empire and the Romulan people?"
"I don't know," Travelan said, looking at his glass. "I really think the Romulan Star Empire could use the services of a mediocre vintner more."
Both men laughed. Sherdak raised his glass. "May the Raptor Banner fly forever."
"To the banner," Travelan replied. They drank and Travelan put his glass down. "Your orders admiral?"
"You report for duty on Romulus tomorrow. I'll take you there. Which means we have time for one last evening as old friends. The mediocre wine isn't going to drink itself."