"Hold At All Costs" - The Federation Civil War (TG

[The Duchess of Zeon]

USS Admiral Senyavin,
Returning through Alpha Centauri
3 July 2166 AST/25 January 2381 ST-3 Calendar


“Admiral?”

“Soleta, come in.” Slyperia was brushing aside a bit of silvering hair, frowning at it, as if slightly irritated at the continued progression of the hairs. “Ah, but I am becoming an old woman so fast.”

“if I understand Taloran lifespans correctly, present technology allows that you should not be concerned about dying of old age for at least another one hundred and fifty standard human years, and two hundred would be equally likely. That is almost an entire Vulcan lifespan.”

“That’s accurate. I’m only about six hundred by the human count,” Slyperia answered. “But that still means I lost an eighth of my life to sitting on the sidelines.”

“Surely it wasn’t lost, Admiral.” Soleta seemed curious by the divergence.

“I gardened. And I danced, but I was getting too old for that toward the end. We are a very energetic species, when it comes to dancing. It gets harder for old women to keep up. Ah well, I’m just musing; truly an old Admiral, with too many memories and concerns, and perhaps a bit wry in my allowances, Soleta, that my hair has kept from silvering for so long only because of the lack of stress, and my long-found wish of returning to command has, of course, restored the process.”

“It is a scientific fact that some signs of artificial aging are common in Starfleet Captains of human origin. I believe Captain Picard was most notorious for this, having lost his hair when he took command of Stargazer and subsequently the baldness not further progressing.”

“Interesting that you mention him,” Slyperia answered. “Come, sit, you must have something on your mind, though I imagine it is not about the commander of Sisko’s reserve.”

“That was Enterprise at Mutara, then, Admiral?”

“The forensics from the logs suggest so. He made a very good fight of being on the receiving end of our reserves. So, what did you want to talk about?”

“Captain Picard, actually—after a fashion,” Soleta answered. “So your belief was inaccurate.”

“What about him.”

“I received a contact from a friend. A Thallonian friend.”

Slyperia’s ears shot up. “They are virtually our enemies, Commander. It is commendable of you to immediately report this. What was the contents, and how does this relate to Captain Picard?” She certainly did not drop the second thread.

“It is a letter from one of our enemies. My former Executive Officer, Commander Shelby.”

“Ah! An encouragement to defect. Well, that you’ve told me about it immediately is sufficient to dismiss any concern for your position you might have. I will deal with any questions that arise if the communication was detected, Commander.” A pause, and the tilt of her ears that was reflected, Soleta could observe by now, showed some bemusement. “I hope your former executive officer is well.”

“She is.” Soleta handed the piece of paper over. “It was not an inducement to defect. She was relaying a message from Captain Picard, Admiral. To you. The message is, as you can see, an appeal to your honour for the sake of establishing a system of exchange of prisoners and regularization of conflict by the Geneva Conventions.”

Slyperia took the letter at once, looking over it smoothly. “Through the offices of the Red Cross of the Union of Free Worlds, a Habsburg ally in CON-5,” she observed. “That really is a very excellent and reasonable suggestion from the man. I am impressed. And we rather need a prisoner exchange more than they do. We are gravely lacking in trained officer personnel, and our losses at the start of the war cannot be easily replaced; further, even all the hired officers like myself aren’t sufficient for the crewing of the new ships obtained from foreign sources.

“Very reasonable.” She sat the letter down. “I will push very hard with the government to accept this. I am quite glad that your connections allowed for the progress of this letter to me, Soleta. It is the sort of thing that makes war livable, and it assuages the basic dignity of all in combat.”

“It does, and the second part of the message confirms that it is accurate and sincerely intended,” Soleta replied.. And handed over a second piece of paper. “This is my hand decoding of the hidden message from Captain Shelby, which itself reproduces a message from Captain Picard himself. It uses a cipher we had available for these kinds of communications if we were captured or in some other inconvenient position—an idea of Captain Calhoun’s—for the days when were all the crew of the Excalibur. And the contents are yet more interesting.”

Slyperia took the letter swiftly, sometimes squinting at the Federation standard English she had flash-learned through her wetware.

Admiral Mhanahkhiu,
Commander Starfleet First Fleet,
Greetings,

From Jean-Luc Picard,
USS Enterprise.

I send this message to you in a state of hope. I recall my first visit to contact the Taloran Star Empire in the CON-5 universe most fondly. Humanity had long, even in supposedly enlightened times, held itself out as unique. The general dominance of humanity in the wider cosmos of universes spoke to those who would hold humanity superiour to other races.

In the Taloran conquest of Earth as part of the establishment of one of the largest polities known throughout the cosmos, and then the judicious ruling thereof as fair feudal overlords, I saw both a repudiation of these dangerous thoughts and a common strain with a tradition we recognize as humane and just in its own way as sure as the love and morality of the Matter of France, the Matter of England, of Chaucer and Roland, are recognizable as expressions of human feeling which remain true despite how far our methods of social organisation have changed.

I have no doubt, and would never presum e to doubt, that you are any less honourable than the Lady Halsina, Marchioness of Sapai, who entertained me and my officers during our embassy to your territory in CON-5. The absolute nature of a Taloran oath and the resolute goodness you hold to accompany hand-in-hand the keeping of oaths is something I was left with no doubt of from my visit.

In my time as Arbiter of the Succession of the Klingon Star Empire I learned to appreciate thoroughly the power of honour, loyalty, and oaths. Though the Taloran custom holds to warrior virtues in the nobility, I understand, too, that you regard peace as the preferable condition in an ethical society and a Godly society in the way that the Klingon Lord of a High House does not. I therefore come to you with the words of the Prophet Eibermon, ‘it is far better to build even an outhouse than to sack a dozen cities’. The sentiment that the creation of better things for the living, is greater than war, is one that we dearly share, and is, I believe, reflected in the ethos of the oaths that you took in your service to Starfleet.

It is on that matter that I would speak with you. I do not believe that the Alliance for Federation Unity appropriately respects those oaths, and that you have undertaken to uphold them sincerely in their totality in a way that the likes of Admiral Milano has not. I would therefore hope to hold your ear for further conversations, as we discuss matters of prisoner exchange and adherence to the Geneva Conventions, so that you might at least—even if we are to disagree—understand my own perspectives on what those oaths mean, and how it is our shared duty now to uphold them.

Sincerely Your’s,
Jean-Luc Picard.

Slyperia settled the letter down, her ears showing consternation with her face a mask. “Commander Soleta, do you intend to show this letter to anyone else? Say, anyone from Starfleet Intelligence?”

“No, Admiral.”

“Good. I believe the Captain is wrong…” She drummed a finger against the table. “But I think this line of communication is very important to keeping this war humane, and I don’t want it sundered by involving Starfleet Intelligence in it. So please keep it quiet. We will forward the version without the decoded portion, only, for my advocacy of those proposals. And we will keep this line with Captain Picard open.”

“Admiral,” Soleta answered, very, very levelly. “I believe you are doing the right thing.”

Slyperia allowed a bit of mirthless humour. “Good, because I know I am. Yes, keep this line open for me, Soleta.”

“You have my word. With your permission, Admiral?”

“Yes. Dismiss.”

You are right about one thing, Picard. Milano IS something of a Creature.

[Steve]

ZFS Avenger, Epsilon Indi System
Principality of Zeon
Universe Designate GA-18
7 July 2166 AST


The dark-hulled Avenger maintained her distant orbit of one of the moons in Epsilon Indi, not far from the asteroid field that existed in the system. One such asteroid that had been pulled out of the belt was 20,000 kilometers away from the slim vessel, a 500,000 ton interstellar destroyer that Zeon was allowed to possess under the reduced armaments clauses of the Treaty of Side 6.

Not everything about the Avenger was treaty compliant, however.

Much of this was only partially on the mind of one of the midshipmen assigned to the Avenger from Zeon's Space Force Academy. The auburn-haired green-eyed young woman, only in her teens, wore her uniform proudly and did her utmost to blend in with her fellow cadets; an impossible task given she was Mineva Zabi, Heiress-Apparent of the Principality, daughter of Zeon's ruler Prince Dozle Zabi.

As further proof of this impossibility, she had been called to the bridge of the ship without any of her fellows. She had her suspicions on why as she waited for the lift to open. When it did, she stepped out and saluted at attention for her commander.... just to see a familar scarred face look at her and smile.

Dozle Zabi, wearing the uniform of the Grand Admiral of the Zeon Space Attack Force, cracked a small smile and returned his daughter's salute. Captain Regan Samartis saluted as well. "Thank you for coming, Midshipwoman," he said to her.

"Yes sir."

There were more people on the bridge than usual, and with non-Zeon uniforms present it was clear they were VIPs. One man with light skin and a wide mustache was wearing a green uniform with a national insignia that used the head of a bull. Another dark-skinned man was wearing a black uniform with red trim. There were others in civilian dress, and all were around another light-skinned man, an older gentleman with gray hair kept in a military cut.

"Come along, Mineva, and witness history with me." Dozle put a hand on his daughter's shoulder and prompted her to look at the viewscreen, displaying a gray asteroid pockmarked with craters.

"History, father? What is happening?"

"The culmination of much work, my girl, that will secure Zeon's independence against Earth." Dozle looked to Samartis. "Captain, please give the order."

"Yes, Your Highness," Samartis answered. He looked to the weapons officer. "Fire the torpedoes!"

The officer hit his keys to do so.

Mineva expected to see the fiery wakes from nuclear torpedoes; instead it was a succession of blue-white sparks, looking more like energy weapon shots than torpedoes, that raced across the distance and smashed into the asteroid. Explosions of white energy erupted from the asteroid as it took the hits... and disintegrated.

"Weapons? Did they..."

"Instruments confirm. Asteroid vaporization well above minimal expectation." The weapons officer smiled. "The weapons worked."

"Excellent. Our factories can commence mass production as scheduled," Dozle said happily.

Mineva was still staring. Her education had included profiles in the various heavy weapons of the Multiverse and their particular signatures, visual and otherwise. And given recent events... she was quite familiar with those weapons... and the implication of what her father had just said.

Zeon could build quantum torpedoes.

Dozle looked back to his guests, his hand still on Mineva's shoulder. "I apologize, for in my haste to finish the test I forgot to make introductions. Gentlemen and lady, my first child Mineva. Mineva, our new allies..."

The black man stepped up first and offered a hand. "Cal Hudson of the Maquis, a pleasure."

"You are an.. admiral, sir?"

"And in the Assembly. They asked me to return to service in case the Federation invades our Confederacy's new members." A twinkle appeared in his eye. "I much prefer being back in service anyway."

The next person introduced was Marshal Cham Kithrong, personal friend and advisor of Protector Jeffrey Calderon of the Taurian Concordat. Emma Rothwell of the Border Worlds in Universe FB-16 was introduced next. A grizzled, frowning old man insisted on titles: Jarl Tor Miraborg of Gunzberg, an advisor to Elected Prince Haakon Magnusson of the Free Rasalhague Republic. Liu Bei-Hui of the Republic of Guangdong, Universe FHI-8, gave a respectful nod. Jack Lundland, who despite available medical technology had insisted on not replacing the eye sliced out of his head twenty years before by House Kuritan torturers in the ISF, gave Mineva greetings from the Republic of Richmond and the Union of Independent Worlds it had formed with the two neigboring planets Richmond had liberated from the collapsing Combine in 2159/3058.

The last figure was wearing the uniform of the Landreich, the central figure that Mineva had noticed before. She smiled at him respectfully and bowed, prompting him to do the same. "Your Highness," he said respectfully, his accent a fine English one. "An honor to meet you, Princess Mineva. I'm Admiral Geoffrey Tolwyn, personal military advisor to President Kruger of the Landreich." Tolwyn turned his smile to Dozle. "Your Highness, it makes me proud to see our efforts have proven so fruitful. Despite our efforts we could not quite get the mechanisms right to progress from photon torpedoes to the quantum torpedo. Zeon's engineers and scientists deserve their high reputation."

"The Principality is proud to add this to our list of accomplishments," Dozle replied. "My orders are already given. By our agreement, half of our production will be diverted to Admiral Ross for the duration of the Federation Civil War, with one quarter kept by Zeon and the last quarter delivered to your quartermasters for distribution to the other pact members. After the war, the split will be by halves."

"Yes," Tolwyn agreed. "Admiral Hudson, what of your first batches?"

"We've delivered them to Ross already," Cal Hudson answered. "Some of our engineers were Starfleet and handled quantums in the war, once we had Zeon's data it didn't take long for us to change the photon torpedo assembly lines at our New Catalonian factory complex into quantum torpedo production."

"Very good. President Kruger would like to assure you that our own production for the new starfighters is on schedule, and we will have a new light carrier for the Maquis ready in three months time." Tolwyn went on with the list, speaking with the others on the other exchanges of military technology and material beyond what the assembled governments were pledging to the Colonies.

As the discussion continued, Mineva looked over at her father. "This is about more than the Colonies in ST-3, Father."

"Yes, Mineva. This is about the future. Our future." Dozle frowned. "We cannot guarantee that the Alliance or other powers will defend our independence against Earth. But with the right friends and technologies, we won't need them. Admiral Tolwyn's pact is Zeon's hope for a future free from Earther tyranny. I won't let it pass us by."

[Slacker]

Of course, this all depends on if Tolwyn has some genetically engineered buddies determined to establish an empire of the ubermensch in this timeline or not.

[Steve]

Not likely. The False Peace before WC3, the one in the novels, becomes an actual peace, because the Kilrathi never quite feel secure enough to go through with their plans for the attack due to the existence of the Alliance (they probably made some plans for such during the Interuniversal War and balked as it became more and more clear the Alliance was not going to be defeated or even stalemated, meaning even if they did successfully gut the Terran Confederation.... it'd just earn them horrific retaliation in the end). Tolwyn never has that final desperate battle and the desperate fights afterward that send his mind over the edge.

[lord Martiya]

Zeon with quantum torpedoes is rather scary, even without Gihren and Kycilia around. Now I have two questions.
1)Apart Char (who we've already seen in action), which Zeon MS elite pilot survived ADN intervention in the war?
2)Will Zeon or its 'volunteers' take part in the Federation Civil War?

[Steve]

Starbase 39, Colonial Territory
9 July 2166 AST


Sisko, Hansford, Proctor, and Admiral Ross were seated together in the conference room. The holocom at the end of the table had the image of President Spock. "A prisoner exchange?", Ross asked. "Are we seriously considering this?"

"There are many fine officers and crew we could reclaim for use in the fleet," Spock pointed out. "The issue is if it would benefit them more than us."

"I think it would," Sisko answered. "We lost good people, yes. But some of their best commanders fell in our initial battles. If we do this prisoner exchange we'll be giving them the crews to man the ships coming out of their shipyards."

"It would, however, raise morale on our side and give us a deeper manpower pool," Hansford pointed out. "Even if our ship production can't meet them we could increase crews on key ships, allowing greater damage control and improving survivability."

Sisko rubbed his chin. "We could also see about slipping infiltrators into their ranks. Some of the POWs we took have expressed anti-AFU views and we might be able to persuade them to work for us."

That drew pointed looks. But Ross nodded. "I'll consult with Intelligence about the prospect. We still have a few days before we have to give a definite yes or no, I imagine."

"Yes." If Spock had any misgivings about Sisko's suggestion, he was not remarking on it openly. Given the expressions, it was because every man present was already suspecting that Milano and Wilmington had the exact same scheme in mind. "Now, on to the matter of the allotment of anti-matter fuel..."




San Francisco


Wilmington and Milano were waiting for Leyton with a new visit; a dark suited Betazoid who had no discerning mark of rank or even affiliation. "Come, James," Milano said happily. "This is our friend Director Hadoi. We're here to discuss this prisoner exchange idea."

"Are you thinking of refusing it?", Leyton asked. "We have some good officers sitting in the Colonials' POW cages."

"No, we're merely discussing the best ways of exploiting Picard's naivety," Wilmington answered. "Our friend has remarked on our ability to place infiltrators in the ranks of the Colonials, infiltrators who can be used to sabotage their ships when the next battle begins."

"I've read the reports from the prison camps," Leyton said quietly. "Attempts to turn the captives against their worlds have failed. You won't get willing volunteers."

"No, but we don't need them," Hadoi remarked. "We have ways to imprint on them programming to make them obey directives, including sabotage. I've already begun the necessary..."

"This is monstrous," Leyton retorted. "It's one thing to recruit agents who are willing but this? If it backfires you've handed more fuel to the fire of the Alliance interventionists."

"Yes, they've been gathering strength despite our victories," Wilmington remarked. "It's a shame we can't get Maxwell-Fyfe into the Presidency. Dale will cave eventually..."

"It won't matter who's Alliance President if enough of them get upset," Leyton pointed out. "Our best bet is to be as gentle as we can be."

"Or to keep the multiversal media out of reclaimed areas," Milano pointed out. "Then we can do what's needed."

"What's needed, Hector?" Leyton leveled a look at him.

"The elimination of separatists from the mainstream. Incarceration of malcontents. Regrettably some property seizures so our remaining worlds don't feel we're coddling the people who started this war," Milano listed out.

"We may also need to make a few examples," Wilmington pointed out. "The King of New Anglia, for instance, some of the other leaders. President Tyler, obviously..."

Leyton turned his gaze to Wilmington. "Examples, Clerk Wilmington?"

"I think you know what I mean, James," Wilmington answered darkly. "If it troubles you, then just concentrate on the war. The sooner the war is over the sooner we can end the harsh measures."




A few hours later Hadoi was in a private home nearly a hundred kilometers from San Francisco, a countryside home surrounded by farmland primarily. He entered the central living room and gave a nod to a sitting figure. "Comrade."

"Comrade." A female voice, an older soprano one, answered. The woman in the seat stood, wearing all black and looking very reserved, very... withdrawn. Just as he knew her. "Anything new?"

"Leyton is becoming uncertain, as we had hoped. If Wilmington and Milano continue on their course of fascism it will inevitably drive him into rebellion. Whether he splits their fleet or defects to the Capitalists, we can make use of either."

"Excellent."

"Anything else?"

"Yes. I want that prisoner exchange arranged. The programming you and the others can put into selected agents will make them useful for when the time comes to begin the Revolution."

"It will be done, Comrade Sandoval."

[Steve]

San Francisco
16 July 2166 AST


"Admiral Leyton, a pleasure. Congratulations on your successful offensives. It appears we will now be able to operate together to decisive effect," Slyperia answered, face emotionless, ears flexing to a position even humans might find pleasant, though, to convey the warmth in her speech as she offered her hand and Leyton, in his turn, politely took it by the forearm in the Ina fashion she had showed him.

"It appears we have been brought her to determine the strategic course of our continuing offensives. I imagine the political-strategic nature of this will make the meeting quite interesting, and," with a flick of her ears, she glanced to the side out of a window, down to the street below in San Francisco. "Ah, yes. The Presidential Hover Limo. Find something to drink before the dignitaries settle themselves down? I've lately taken to expanding my repetoire of human beverages to include Tejuino, from Jalisco in Mexico originally, which I've found quite agreeable to the Taloran palate..."

"I'll have to give you some Aldebaran whiskey sometime," Leyton answered. His eyes stayed on the Limo, with Wilmington and Ovnork stepping out of it and Milano waiting at the curb. "I also admit to finding Timbiqui Dark from MWB-32 an enjoyable drink, when I'm in the mood for such." He held up the glass he had in his hand. "Before meetings, however, I prefer Bolian tonic water. It has a soothing effect on nerves."

"I believe it was one of your old politicians, Churchill, who said that a single glass heightens the senses, but more than that destroys them. This kind of discipline is something people forget. Though in the case of Tejuino, the alcohol content is so low your replicators will produce it under the same permissive regime as synthehol."

"To each their own," Leyton said quietly.

"Anyhow, it seems they are coming up. I hope we will not get dragged before the press before the private meeting begins."

"Given the censorship controls I'm sure we won't have to worry about the FNS or anything else." Leyton took another drink. He appeared more distant than before.

"Even a captive press is still irritating, in my view." But further conversion over the water and Slyperia's Tejuino would have to be cut off as the civilian leadership arrived. Slyperia smoothly set her drink to the side, came to attention, and saluted--to Ovnork, of course. He might be powerless in practice, even the Taloran could easily see this, but likewise, he was still the font of honour of the UFP (no matter how degraded the concept was there), and worthy of the foremost ceremonial respect of the group. "Your Excellency."

"Admiral, my congratulations, as much as I can give given circumstances," Ovnork answered. He slipped into his seat. Wilmington and Milano sat beside him with Leyton and Slyperia found seats further down. "I mean no disrespect, but i cannot take joy in the slaying of Federation citizens, even if they no longer believe in the Federation."

"The Civil War is never a pleasant state, as riven as it is with the exigencies of the State of Siege and the microcosm of division at every level of society. I would expect none, Your Excellency", she would as she settled down. "What shall be our agenda, Sirs?"

"All of our reports indicate that the Pacificans and their allied colonies are effectively out of the war," Milano informed the assembled. "They're not beaten, but we hit their fleets so hard that they can only defend the core of their space, and it will be over a year before they can recover short of a miracle or massive foreign aid." Milano gave everyone a careful look, since it was quite clear who he was thinking about when he remarked on that. "It's best if we leave them to be mopped up later, which means the bulk of the Beta-side fleets will be transferred to the Alpha front, to be commanded by the two of you."

"And so we can use our numerical advantage against the Colonial Fleet to drive it back," Leyton responded. "Have we managed to block further ship sales to the Colonials?"

"Dale continues to bow to the demands of the Taloran and Habsburg Empires in cutting support," Wilmington said with a grin. "He'll fight his own Council to keep them at bay, which gives us time. And there is no one else save for the Maquis, and they are a laughable threat at best."

"My own intel reports have said that Sisko's forces have acquired a source for quantum torpedo supply," Leyton pointed out. "So he's getting some foreign support."

"Minor rogue states, possibly, but nothing to be worried about."

"Nothing to be worried about in general, but it is still problematic in another sense. First, it negates some of our advantage in materiale, forcing us to commit more resouces to war economy," Slyperia spoke with a bit of increasing intensity. "Secondly, it offers the prospect of sustained guerrilla warfare from outside resources on planets that we recapture, which forces us to divert material resources to suppressing this which would otherwise be available for the fleet, unless a truly enormous levy of conscripts be undertaken to provide warm bodies as the alternative. My fleet can shrug off the quantum torpedoes in absolute terms, but it does press home our need to maximize the war economy."

"That is going to be problematic," Leyton remarked. "The territory we're retaking isn't good for anything, we stripped it. And the systems we've taken from the Beta colonies have ongoing insurgencies that make then economic drains. We're going to have to mobilize the Core Worlds and cut replicator rations."

"It is made easier by the use of worker holograms," Wilmington pointed out. "We are having to introduce rationing, yes, but we've made it clear to the people that it's only for the duration of the war. If they see us winning victories, they'll accept the short-term restrictions."

"So we had better not lose," Milano said. "Thankfully victory is still getting easier. Admiral Slyperia, I'm pleased to report that the first Taloran dreadnought-class ships have arrived from your empire's shipyards."

"Excellent. I suppose it would be appropriate for me to transfer my flag at that point, then, since the detachable warp-drive pods will allow full fleet interoperability, and we will now truly have ships able to stand up to the firepower of the best of Sisko's." She forced a thin smile onto her lips. "Though this brings up another problem for us, gentlemen, which should be addressed. We are now going to find ourselves with adequate materiale, but a severe deficit of trained personnel even with the great success of the foreign officer recruiting programmes. Ships, but especially, I confess, Taloran ships, are intensely hungry for crew."

"We have opened recruitment drives on all worlds, but I believe the holograms may provide aid here," Milano remarked. "We have the mobile emitter technology now, so we needn't worry about failures removing holographic crew."

"I hope you are only referring to ratings, as I question whether the tactical flair that makes truly great officers is possible out of your holographic technology." Slyperia steepled her hands. "What of a prisoner exchange with the Rebels? They will get people they have no ships for, and we will get officers we can put on our new ships to use against them. We would indubitably have the advantage from one, and can use it as good propaganda with the foreign powers, and their system of morality, would leave them hard pressed to refuse it, considering their own overblown propaganda of what we are doing to their prisoners."

Leyton couldn't help but lower his eyes at that, but Milano and Wilmington showed no shame in their own plots for programming Colonial POWs with intrusive techniques to be agents. "Our negotiations for the prisoner exchange continue through the Mizarians and the Minbari," Wilmington informed the assembled. "We believe Spock will acqueise shortly."

"I think the most important issue is that we need to defeat Sisko's fleet completely, and we need to do it soon," Milano spoke up. "Every day his fleet remains intact hope remains alive for the rebellion and the interventionists of the Alliance. Even if Dale is deadset on staying out, eventually he'll lose control of the Council. A quarter of them are ready to recognize the Colonies as it is, how long until it's half of them while that radical few are calling for outright intervention?"

"If we can avoid any planetary sacks, we might be able to avoid an intervention--though these become hard to avoid in a long and bitter civil war," Slyperia answered bluntly, with a frown. "I think that a direct effort on one-for-one prisoner exchange would be profitable, Sirs. I need the officers, the countless good officers who were captured early on, for these new ships. Making due with fresh volunteers without experience will make these battles very bloody."

"That's understood, Admiral, and I'm confident we'll have the prisoner exchange soon."

Slyperia avoided a sigh narrowly. She could tell that she was being brushed off in her endeavousr by Milano and Wilmington. "Very well. Can I then at least put my executive officer, Soleta, in command of the Senyavin? She has demonstrated incredible skill and bravery in her time under my command and, I would argue, her loyalty is beyond reproach and in this case, we must follow the old adage of a Marshal's Baton in every knapsack and be willing to promote far more quickly the youth but brilliant than we would ever dream of in peacetime."

Leyton shook his head. "I have no objection, Commander Soleta's record speaks for itself, and whatever else you might say about him, Mackenzie Calhoun has a talent for bringing out the potential in his officers."

It was clear Wilmington was a little plussed, but Milano nodded. "I concur. It's important to show we respect the achievements of such officers. The arrangements will be made."

"That is adequate, then. If we promote talent rapidly we'll be able to deal with some aspects of the personnel shortage, at least. It is not a substitute for experience, but it does put hard-hitting officers in command of ships without regard to seniority, and that will be better than the alternative."

"Agreed. Now.... I would like to bring up a sensitive topic." Leyton folded his hands in front of him. "We need to consider our policies on occupied worlds."

"It is imperative that we keep our word, whatever is decided, that the probity of the government be acknowledged in managing future surrenders and perhaps the shift of worlds to again respect central authority."

"We can't let them off too softly, though," Wilmington pointed out. "We can't except the Core to accept restrictions on their lifestyles if we're being too soft. And there's the needs of our war economy to consider...."

The discussion continued, Ovnork saying almost nothing from his defeatism, while Leyton felt an irritation build within him. Not just an irritation, actually... but an outright doubt. All of these harsh policy proposals, "necessary measures" talk, he'd heard them before, yes....

But was this what he joined Starfleet to do?

[Steve]

The White House, Washington D.C.
Earth, Alliance of Democratic Nations
Universe Designate HE-1
20 July 2166 AST


The smaller dining room was the location for a private Sunday lunch of just two: the President of the Allied Nations in one chair, his daughter in the other. Susanna Dale, a Commander of the ANSN in charge of a destroyer, was taking advantage of her ship's return from its first year of operational cycles to spend time with her father. Julia, while invited, had turned it down on the grounds that the two needed a father-daughter meal. It was an invitation Dale happily accepted.

Except.... now he was feeling uncertain. Susanna seemed withdrawn, deeply thoughtful, and was saying only the normal platitudes without the usual enthusiastic sharing of her experiences since they'd last met. After finishing a roast beef sandwhich from their casual meal, Dale ignored his remaining sides to watch Susan finish what she was chewing on. "Susan, honey.... you can talk to me. Whatever is bothering you..."

"Dad..." Susan let out a sigh. "I've been thinking of taking a leave."

Dale looked up at her. "Really? I thought you were looking to make Captain before forty?"

"I...." Susan put her hands on the table. "Sometimes.... sometimes there are more important things. Bigger than a career. More important than any ambition."

Dale looked at her for a moment. And a horrible feeling began to twist his gut. "Oh.... Susan, please..."

"Dad, you're wrong."

"Please." He put his head into his hands. "Who's talking you into this?"

"Nobody," she insisted. "Listen... I don't want to go back to war, but.... Dad, you know that the Federation's falling into bad hands. You can't blame people who want to get out of it!"

"I don't," he insisted.

"Then why are you doing nothing to help them while you let the Talorans sell them admirals and dreadnoughts? They're dying to protect what freedoms they have left and you're acting like they're just another bunch of nutty nationalist rebels causing trouble. And just because you won't help them doesn't mean I can't!"

"Susan... Dammit Susan, I want to!" He smacked a hand on the table. "I know full damn well what Virshk and Milano and Wilmington are up to and I'd love nothing better than to stop them myself, but it's more complicated than that. I have to think about the Alliance, the entire Alliance, all of the nations with their own threats to worry about, and all of the things we already have to deal with! All of our ships and troops keeping order in the Gamma Quadrant, our occupation zones in New Plymouth and Cardassia, the expansions in CON-5 bringing us closer and closer to the Taloran entry zone and Ragusa... and we have the Kilrathi, the Davions, the Japanese of AR-12 and the Europeans of FHI-8 and all the other empires that pose a direct threat to our people! Empires who are hovering over us, ready to find any excuse to pounce on my policies as proof that the Alliance is a danger to the stability of the Multiverse! Officially supporting an ongoing insurrection against a recognized government would only hurt the Alliance in the long run, no matter how much I'd prefer to see them win!" Dale stood up and paced the table. "I'd have loved to have helped the Colonials out. Ten years ago Nicolas would have been able to. But the Multiverse has changed, Susan. We have to live with it. As the President I have no choice but to live with it. And the authoritarian powers that would support the Federation against us are too numerous and too powerful for me to risk giving them a reason to ally against us. Not even to save the Colonies. Not even to save the Federation as a whole, as much as I'd love to. They have to save themselves, Susan. It has to be them."

Susan had sat quietly and listened to her father's words. She'd heard the arguments a dozen times in the officer's lounge on the Cherenko and since then in officer's clubs on HQ Station and here on Earth. But to hear her father say it, to know he wanted to help but felt duty forbade it... "And it'd hurt if I went to them," she sighed. "On all sides. Your enemies here would use it to undermine your influence. The empires would see it as you being weak."

"Likely." Dale drew in a breath, trying to fight the anger inside. "But you're a grown woman. You have to make your own moral choice. If you still feel this is what you need to do... I can't stop you."

"You could order me. As my Commander-in-Chief," Susan pointed out. "You could order me and Davis and all the other officers talking about it."

He sighed. "Fighting Davis is thinking of going, huh? I thought she'd be happy growling at Kilrathi from Gateway."

"It's all RUMINT, of course," Susan answered. "Most officers actually think the way you do. They'd like to help the Colonies, but they know the cost would be too high. But those who think we should anyway.... why don't you just call back to service any officer who tries to volunteer?"

"Because I don't want to force a showdown where they resign rather than follow the order," Dale answered. Chancellor Maxwell-Fyfe had indeed been encouraging him to do just that, and to if necessary press dereliction charges for refusals - a threat that had in turn prompted Chief Admiral O'Connor and Defense Minister Matt Darlington to both threaten to resign. "Admiral Davis is a good woman, and the officers who feel like you do... they're good people too. And all the other personnel who, retired or not, are finding ways to help the Colonials. If they're going to make that choice, I don't want to ruin their lives over it. If I can help it, I won't. And I'm hoping it won't come to that. I'm hoping Sisko will recover, that the Federation's currency reserves will fail, that something will happen to save the Alpha Quadrant from Virshk. It's all I can do."

There was silence after that. Silence that only ended when he returned to the table. "This is the first time in months you and I have seen each other, Susan. Let's put these politics behind us and get on to more important topics. Like, say..." A bit of mischief came to his eye. "That old tradition of me bugging you to make me a Grandpa."

Susan gave him a sardonic look, but the happy grin on her face at least showed that the conversation had moved on.