Bark Worse than Bite

Posted on Thu 20th Oct, 2016 @ 12:11pm by Colonel Horatio Drake

1,331 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Cloak & Dagger
Location: Deck 12: Captain's Ready Room
Timeline: MD 01: 11:24

OFF: Sorry, this is an older post but makes the recent post on the Warspite make more sense!

Sianna Dal had always found Romulans exhasperating to deal with. Preferable to Vulcans, if only because Romulans had a comprehensive hierarchy of needs in place of baffling religious dogma, but exhasperating nonetheless. Stuborness to shame a Tellarite and a sense of superiority that transcends mere arrogance made them difficult to deal with. Their communiques, of which a great many had greeted the Orion diplomat on arrival, had been positively pleasant, if numerous - plenty of demands, interspersed with the occasional veiled threat. The diplomatic equivalent of a dog's barking, for the most part ... which meant that the Romulans weren't preparing to bite, at least. It would have been a rather inaspicious start to a career, beginning with a declaration of war.

That is not to say that the entire incident was harmless, even if the Romulans were unwilling to press the issue beyond irate missives and the occasional icy transmission. Which brought the diplomat to the station commander.

If only to craft a better excuse.

Sitting at his desk, Drake had spent the last minute or two simply staring through the large window behind his desk, coffee in hand and PADD on lap. The sheer expansiveness, darkness and loneliness of space had never ceased to utterly amaze him. He felt more alone now than he ever had. Perhaps it was a new command with such a volume of work attached to it... perhaps it was the loss of Patrick... perhaps it was both... he mused to himself that Graves was going to have a field day, once he finally booked that appointment. As a younger officer he had always admired and envied those who had had the opportunity to fight in the Dominion War... showering themselves in the glory of true battle. He had held that juvenile belief all the way up until Patrick's death... up to that point he had never known real pain. Now he longed to feel nothing.

The chime interrupted his thought process, probably for the best.

"Come in" he said, turning in his chair and rest the PADD and coffee on the table.

Sianna Dal entered the commander's ready room with her dress billowing behind her in a way that was clearly artificially engineered, PADD in hand.

Stopping before the desk, the Orion extended a hand for a handshake, "Colonel Drake, a pleasure. I look forward to working with you." A statement, as much as a greeting, deference without acknowledging superiority, recognition of rank and station without declaring submission.

Taking the hand and rising from his seat, he smiled... this was one person for which no introduction was necessary. Diplomatic Officers were rare enough these days... but Orions in Starfleet were even rarer. "A pleasure, Lieutenant." He sat, turning his chair to face the desk and sitting, gesturing for the green skinned woman to do the same.

"Colonel," it was a statement, the opening shot of the barrage that followed, "Continuing from the briefing earlier today, I wished to discuss a ... somewhat sensitive matter and our approach to it." the Orion slid her PADD across the desk, "A selection of Romulan diplomatic missives we've received so far. They're quite irate about the attacks. There's a great deal of posturing and grand-standing." Sianna's dark eyes were narrow slits, "We must step very carefully, hence the consultations."

A frown replaced the smile, "I see... well, when are the Romulans ever happy! However, unless someone has actually managed to build a replica Intrepid Class, I do not see how Starfleet could possibly be responsible for these attacks."

He paused for a moment, perception is everything, he thought back to his very brief diplomatic training courses in the Academy. It was universally accepted that the truth meant nothing but perception meant everything... it also sounded good, he decided to lead with it.

"I suppose it doesn't matter if we are or not... at this point in time we are perceived to be. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Romulans will not believe any claims of all ships of the class being accounted for. They will presume we have built several ships that don't exist on record for a variety of purposes, including privateering such as this." Sianna offered a humourless smile, "It is, after all, what Romulans have a tradition of doing. We could, of course, lay the blame on ships lost during the Dominion War."

Sianna considered the matter, looking to the side as she tapped her chin with a single finger, making the effort to dredge up lectures from long ago and discussions and rumours from her time on Botchok - she had never been involved with corsairs directly, but they moved in the same circles Sianna had until recently. Indeed, she was friends, acquaintances more appropriately, with several. Their tales had been largely hollow boasts, a mixture of truth and exaggerations, tales the Orion had paid little attention to.

"There was a crisis some years back, a supposed violation of the Treaty of Algeron by Starfleet." noteworthy not for the event itself, but for the naked greed Sianna had seen in the eyes of various corsairs who referenced the events, "A holographic masking system. One that allowed a vessel to masquerade as any other ship on records, including masking one's own signature to appear as the desired ship even at short range."

Drake considered the proposition, if it wasn't a real Intrepid class then it either had to be a fake or a deception... the latter was more probable. "I agree." He raised his coffee to his lips, realising he had not offered the Diplomatic Officer a drink... it was too late now, but she struck him as someone who would ask if they wanted.

"As ever, the best course of action is not to defend, but to attack." Sianna Dal had learned that particular lesson well, "The masking system was inspired by Romulan designs from before the Federation. I would propose we accuse the Romulans of perpetrating the crisis by masking one of their own ships and launching attacks." there was a dangerous gleam to the diplomat's eyes as she added, "If nothing else, it will keep them occupied for a time as they try to ascertain whether one of their own organizations actually has been attempting such a dastardly ploy."

The suggestion took Drake off guard, he had had very little dealings with the Romulans but had heard of their duplicity and paranoia. "No doubt we will run into one of their ships as our investigations overlap... are you convinced this accusation will not result in aggressiveness on their part? I wouldn't even hazard a guess as to how many seconds a mothballed Miranda class could hold up against a state of the art D'Deridex Warbird." He raised his eyebrow slightly.

A dismissive wave of the hand, "It is a risk, but hardly a noteworthy one. Romulans are mercurial, but not irrational. Escalating the crisis further by openly attacking Federation vessel over a few missing freighters would be tantamount to suicide. The Romulans know that they are weaker than the Federation alone, much less when combined with our Klingon allies. Any open conflict with the Federation would be nothing short of armageddon for their nation." It was a dark smile that bloomed on the diplomat's features, "So, you see Colonel, the risks of escalating far outweigh the potential benefits for the Romulans."

The Orion leaned back in the chair she'd taken possession of, adding softly, "We'll have to deal with bruised egos and posturing for some time afterward, of course, but that is a matter for another time."

"I see, that certainly makes sense", he contemplated what he was being told. The Diplomatic Officer described inter-species politics as if she were describing trivial office politics... he reminded himself that she clearly came from a position of experience and knowledge and knew what she was talking about.

 

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