We Don't Start Wars, We End Them.

Posted on Wed 22nd Oct, 2025 @ 11:13pm by Captain Gordon Francis & Commander Heriah Rex & Lieutenant Sufai Kell & Lieutenant Damion Ildaran & Lieutenant Pampo Gnu

1,520 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: From The Ashes
Location: News Broadcasts
Timeline: After "It Begins to Spread"

-Start-

{Garden District- POOR PAUL'S POURHOUSE}

Sweat glistened, not from heat, but from exertion. On the bar's sole screen, a large, portly, bald Human was red in the face trying to summon internal reserves of hate to fuel more words. He had lost the debate, they were going to let Alidade free onto the unsuspecting spaceways.

"Interesting stuff in these reports, folks, you're missing out if you don't subscribe. I've spoken my piece on the AI menace we have been harboring for a month now, but the most recent crisis has me flabber.....gasted. Genocide, eugenics, Bio-weapons, and how it all nearly killed us. Need to take break but will return with more on the Xir'Kai."

Damion sipped at his pint of beer and fought not to roll his eyes at the commentator onscreen. Honestly, if you were going to debate an issue, you ought to at least know the facts about it. He'd been surprised that the news media had found out about Alidade, who resided onboard Thunderchild,, but now, he decided they hadn't found out much.

A self-recorded commercial played, it was Leslie Mack made to look like a statesman, annoyingly asking if people on the station needed better sleep and to try his mattress.

Tannis spoke up first summoning the host, "Hey, Zhogh! Anything else on?"

The bartender pretended not to hear, but Kya had met Leslie Mack and supported changing the program.

"Zhogh can you put on FNN?"

At her voice, the old msn looked right over to them, "Sure" he said.

As the frequency shifted to FNN, the image on the screen turned into the large dirt-eating grin of, "...Ross Zuomo," he said announcing himself, "and this is Criss Cross." The broadcast played its overused and irritating opening sequence ending with a zoom in on Ross's face. "And tonight...Changelings in Starfleet. Do shapeshifters walk among us and in Starfleet uniform? But first," he turned to another camera, similarly zoomed in but he was off to the side a bit to make way for the graphic of a slug, "...a historic movie theatre in Columbia, South Carolina was subject to a protest and boycott earlier today for showing the movie 'Slither' made way back in 2006. If I am doing my math right...let me see...carry the one...yeah, they are finally getting around to be offended by this movie. Why? Great question. It seems cultural sensitivity knows no end and no bounds. The complaint this time is that this movie is insensitive to the Trill population. Because this movie regards slugs infesting and taking over people's bodies, this apparently is supposed to fan the flames of hate against the Trill, especially the Joined Trill. Here is a video taken from outside the theatre...and...as you can see...there is not one spot on anyone in the protest line, not one Trill protesting." Ross turned to another camera. This time, there was another sitting across the table from him. "I have here, with me, analyst Karl Krauthammer and Disney Universal Plus spokesperson Chad Tettrizine to speak more on the subject..."

Chad Tettrizine was the first to speak, saying, "'Slither' does include negative depictions and/or mistreatment of cultures, particularly Trill, from the standpoint of Earth's twenty-first century. These stereotypes were wrong then, and are wrong now. Rather than remove this content, we at Disney Universal Plus believe we as a people need to acknowledge its harmful impact, learn from it, and spark conversation to create a more inclusive future together."

As the two began to speak back and forth, those in the bar half listened and half went about their own business.

Krauthammer at least sounded refreshingly intelligent, after Leslie Mack's absurd bluster. Damion nibbled at his cheese and brisket chips--er, fries--and observed the reactions of people nearby as he sipped again at his beer. Starbase 109 was home to an eclectic population. He didn't notice anyone up in arms over a 400-year-old Earth movie or its imagined slight to joined Trill--which was a relief. People in the Garden District had more important things to think about.

The Zuomo and Krauthammer segment ended after a few minutes, and another commercial came on.

"Hi! My name is Jason McJason Whackamoose, and this is Starbase Magic Cleaning! If you're too busy to do housework or need to organize your wolves, we can take care of that for you! Shoot a message to Filth@SMCleaning, and we'll get you set right up--'cause that's how we roll, son."

The images showed some extremely cluttered apartments and then what those same apartments looked like after the SMC cleaners had finished with them. Damion was impressed, as usual, but he had few possessions and kept his quarters tidy, so he didn't need SMC's services. Besides, what was the guy's obsession with moose and wolves, anyway?

"ARE YOU TRAVELING, AND DO YOU HAVE TROUBLE FINDING ADEQUATE QUALITY SUPPLIERS FOR YOUR AUTO INSERTING SELF SEALING CATHETERS-" The bartender hit mute on the panel as this commercial came in at max volume. There were specific settings to prevent this but the commercial somehow overrode them to maximum. The channel changed to an intense panel debate on the nature of Starfleet's involvement with the Romulan resettlement, with the recent discovery that the nearby star Hobus was due to go Nova within a century.

The channel flipped again, to a soothing all music synthwave underlay of a graphic depicting station systems and news. The music was designed by the Pahvans whose dedication to acoustics and researching music lead to the hypnotic tones of the station news channel. Like a hug from a loved one combined with a delicious treat, the bar got suspiciously quiet, many people involuntarily swaying slightly. A text scroll along the sides gave basic schedule information like Parrisses Squares tournament, Opera troupe performance, diplomatic delegations, new restaurants, and on and on and on.

The Channel shifted again, a scan function to let people choose what they wanted. When the soporific music left, the bar returned to normal without comment.

"Billiam Cashar Live" came next, the self-appointed vox populi who nearly everyone hated for his smarminess, had a panel of diplomats on the recent Xir'Kai Civil War. Several voices in the bar spoke aloud, "Keep it there!"

Billiam had just made a joke and waited for the audience laughter sign to do its work. The near silence prompted him to smugly smile at the panel, "Jeesh, tough crowd, am I right? Fans of bio-weapons, it's a joke, y'all!"

The Federation Ambassador to the Xir'Kai was a Kelpian named Rothk and on a remote feed. When their monitor lit green to show they were talking to the viewers he strongly pushed back, "Bill, let me tell you, this is no laughing matter. Were it not for the immediate humanitarian response to the Ch'anal Valley District attacks, near a million would have died from a single canister of "0.9a Red". The cease-fire also merely holds further action, it does not demand disarmament of this bio-weapon. Stern intervention from the Federation is the only thing keeping this from getting much worse."

The audience cheered, much more in agreement with Rothk then Bill.

The feed shifted to a Trill diplomat, Daeren Iril, who Damion noticed actually lived on 109. "I agree; attempted genocide is no laughing matter. Containing the disease and treating the victims of this bioweapon are taxing our medical staff and resources here. It is imperative that this conflict among the Xir'Kai be resolved without delay and all stockpiles of 0.9a Red be neutralized and preferably destroyed. Bioweapons are the most foolish kind of weapon that has ever been invented by so-called intelligent life-forms."

Billiam clapped sarcastically, "So Brave, speaking out against bio-weapons... joking... gyaaaa."

Rothk sent a plaintive look to Daeron, as if to ask for help suffering Billiam the fool. Finally he mentioned, “Well Billiam I hope our talks are productive and your cynicism isn’t shared by the Xir’Kai delegates.”

Billiam leaned back in his overly opulent chair, “Yes you’re going to the frontiers, Triangle town, Romulan Border stuff to go to those talks on uhhh Starbase what was it?

Rothk gently answered, “109, they took on the first refugees, and found a treatment for the Alpha Red.”

A small cheer from those who listened and cared went up at the mention of their home base name.

Billiam smarmed some more, “Ooh yes gotta feed the ego, Starfleet runs on compliments-“

The channel clipped again back to Leslie Mack, who had begun shaving his hair making burbling baby noise. The red faced buffoon was making baby talk but in an aggressive husky growl somehow screaming and choking on his own phlegm.

Without the context of what was said before the image was left on for a moment before it flipped again to an advertisement for Qaraq's bar.

A shoe flew through the bar and hit the monitor hard enough to crack it as the next ad started with, "You can save fifty pounds per person..."

Wisely, the bartender powered the monitor down altogether, and turned up the music.

-End-

 

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