Chapter 25
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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE:         Nestled in the blanketing abyss somewhere between Csilla and the Ssi-ruuk star cluster, a tiny green marble named Daktia waltzed in orbit of its home star. The face of the planet was lush and green, Eden-like in its gardened flatlands which stretched for miles across its surface. Rolling hills and sweeping valleys with tall grasses—reaching higher than cornstalks in some places—spread out across its horizon, mingling with stumpy olive tree stalks that clothed themselves with ruby colored leaves. A jewel of the sector, bathed in rolling white clouds and kissed by the warm golden rays of a nearby sun, Daktia’s sheer beauty set it apart as one of the waning number of pristine lifeworlds still unknown to the Empire.

It was about half a kilometer south of the Daktian ruler’s palace where a dotted and egg-shaped Yuufusion landing pod settled into a clearing in the city, crushing foliage beneath it as it powered down its engines. The touch-down was a soft one, the tall grasses giving way to a cushioning wetland about a foot deep. But the sound was enough to startle a handful of nearby animals, which blorted and neighed in surprise, quickly dashing out of the field and onto higher ground.

The boarding ramp lowered and Empress Violet Vortex stepped down the gangway first, looking out to the sky a moment and taking a deep breath. The Daktian air was crisp and fresh, scented slightly with the sweet aromas of the crushed grasses from underneath the ship.

            It was a scent with which she was quite familiar. The Empress had visited Daktia on many occasions before, most when she had been no older than four years old. Though not part of the Amazon Imperium, the rulers of Daktia had long been close allies with the Yuufusions—an arrangement which was said to have arisen from a certain romance between one of the Sovereigns of Daktia and one of the Empresses of the Amazons.

            Though each Amazon ruler had maintained ties with Daktia—an especially easy arrangement since the world lay on a border of their territory—Violet’s mother, Daphne, had become close friends with the current ruler—Sovereign Azuka Kain. The trust between the two rulers was so deep that Daphne had often left Violet on the planet in Kain’s care when her responsibilities as Empress demanded her full attention.

            “Ack—yuck!” Aris exclaimed, looking ruefully at the foot which she had unsuspectingly sunk into the muddy marsh. “I thought the monsoon season was over!”

            Violet turned around and smiled slightly, lifting the hem of her white dress up to her knees as she stepped off the gangplank and into the marsh. “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy churéda, Aris. You loved the mud fights even more than I did.”

            “. . . mud fights?” Kithain Tiharr was the next out of the ship, quick enough to catch Violet’s incriminating comment. His inquiry earned him a blistering glare from Aris.

Sage and Carlist Rieekan followed close behind the general, the colonel pausing to sneeze as the smell of the grass immediately set his nose twitching. Tiharr pressed forward, stepping through the mud and toward the edge of the watery pit; once out, he held a hand back to pull the Empress up to solid ground.

            Once out, Violet rubbed her feet against the dusty earth. “This way,” she motioned forward toward a patch of dried stalks.

            But Kithain wasn’t in a particular mood to go trotting through the wilderness. “Couldn’t we just go around?”

Violet smiled at him and shook her head, stepping down between the stalks with the ball of her foot. She pointed out that doing so was enough to part the grasses in front of her. “You need to learn how to ‘stalk walk’ if you want to get around the city without a landspeeder,” she chided. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little grass, general?”

The Sovereign’s palace sat atop a hill, shrouded in a thin layer of grey mist. As Violet emerged from the brush she squinted her eyes and gazed up at it, actually giggling quietly as she took the opportunity to relive a childhood memory. It had been long—far too long since she’d last been here.

            Tiharr and Rieekan emerged from the stalks a few moments after; the colonel held his nose and tried to keep from breathing, but wasn’t able to keep from launching off into a fit of sneezes. The old man Sage pressed through the grasses after them and glanced about the scene, unimpressed. Aris was the last out, muttering something foul and still trying to get the mud off of her legs.

There were no gates around the palace; instead it hosted four old granite roads which lead up the hill. Two large marble statues flanked the structure, most of their features eroded away by time and exposure to the elements. One of them faced the sunset, a monument to a long dead hero of these people, the other faced the sunrise—the hero’s mate and queen.

            As the group made their way up the hill they passed through a corridor lined with seven smaller pairs of statues, each of them newer and in a lesser state of decay, depicting the successive rulers of the planet up to present day.

            The only sound that could be heard in the courtyard at the hilltop was the gentle noise of water flowing down from a fountain at its center. The octagonal palace had ornately decorated walls and a domed ceiling covered in bright red paint. High windows from the upper floors held panoramic views of the surrounding city, letting the Sovereign gaze out to the people as he wished.

            The two scarlet doors at the entrance to the palace roared open at the entourage’s approach and the hulking frame of a man appeared from the shadows within. He bore a striking resemblance to those statues which lined the walkway to the palace mount, and wore garments of animal pelts and a crown of sapphire feathers in his fiery red hair. The olive-skinned man stood well over eight feet tall, with bright yellow eyes and a muted snout—one which hosted a smile as he recognized the bouncing purple form of Empress Vortex springing toward him.

            "Kain!" Violet called out and rushed forward, pouncing on him. "Y-you don’t look a day older since I last saw you!"

            The rest of the group caught up with her and looked cautiously at the towering Sovereign, the only one among them able to even contest Violet’s great height.

            Sovereign Kain nodded, hugging her. “But you,” he mused, “you must have been—“ he held his palm flat and motioned down about four feet off the ground, "—that tall when I last saw you. How long ago was it?"

            "Six years." Violet said, not quite believing it herself.

            The Sovereign shook his head. "Has it been that long already? Look at you—you're a grown woman!"

            "I wouldn’t go that far . . ." Sage mumbled.

            Kain paused as he noticed the old man. “I see you’ve brought friends.”

            “Oh, yes,” Violet’s cheeks flushed. “This is Mr. Kithain Tiharr—he’s a rebel person. Colonel Rieekan and Sage are his two advisors. And you already know—“

            “Aristotle.” The Sovereign grinned, spying the red-furred vixen behind them.

            Aris blushed and she glared up at him. “I said don’t call me that in front of other people!”

            Violet turned, “what’s this? Shuu shuu, Aris. Kain gave you a nickname and you never told me?”

            The other Amazon turned a way and muttered to herself. “At least ‘puggle’ is dignified . . .”

            Kain looked around, “Wasn’t . . . was Sushi his name . . . supposed to be with you?”

            “Ah, Sonchu.” The Empress corrected with a slight smile. But she paused a moment and soon enough that expression faded from her face. “Admiral Ackbar declined our invitation at this time . . . Mr. Kithain was the only one who would agree to come down with us.”

            A look of concern crossed the Sovereign’s face. “What is it?”

            Violet looked down; that childlike twinkled in her eye had now completely faded. “We’ve much to discuss, Kain.” She said, “I need your advice.”

————————————

Admiral Rumsfield stalked quietly through the main doors to the USS FELIX’s sickbay and surveyed the room, filled to capacity with injured—but stabilized patients. A few of the nurses were attending to those men and women who were awake, but most of the survivors were sleeping away their maladies.

Dr. Timothy Pierce was in his office, speaking lowly to the man whom the admiral only knew to be called “Chauv,” apparently the leader of these people and eager to speak with whoever was in charge. Upon seeing the admiral enter he stood, for a moment catching Rumsfield’s impassive gaze. The two men’s eyes locked for what seemed like a long time and they stood silently, motionlessly, as two soldiers sizing each other up before a battle.

“Ah, admiral,” Pierce turned around in his chair and looked up at Rumsfield. “You’re here.”

He only gave the doctor a frosty glance before he reached out his hand toward the visitor, “Admiral James Rumsfield, I’m in command of this ship.”

Chauv nodded slightly and took his hand in a firm shake. “Thank you, ah, admiral. I believe I am in your deb—“

“You don’t owe us anything,” Rumsfield said dismissively, his hand dropping from the gesture of greeting like a heavy weight.

Chauv seemed momentarily nonplussed by the response. “I’ve been told you’re the one who can give us some answers. Your doctor and his staff have been quite obliging in terms of medical care . . . a little strange, though. I’d have expected bacta. I’ve not seen a hospital like this before . . .”

Rumsfield kept his silence.

“. . . and, well I still have no idea where we are or how the hell we got here. Who are you with?”

The admiral took a breath and motioned for Chauv to take a seat as he settled into a chair on the opposite side of the doctor’s desk. “You’re aboard the Federation starship FELI­—“

“Whoa whoa whoa, hold on there.” Chauv held up a hand, “You guys are with the Trade Federation?”

Rumsfield frowned, “I don’t know anything about a ‘Trade Federation.’ This ship flies the flag of the United Federation of Planets.”

“Never heard of it,” Chauv said simply. “Where you guys operate out of?”

“Our territory spans portions of both the Alpha and Beta quadrants.”

Again, Chauv seemed puzzled. “Okay, you’re speaking Bocce here. I meant what sector? Abrion, Portmoak, Juris—what?”

“I’m not familiar with any of those landmarks.”

“Okay, how about this—the Humbarine Sector, the Kuat Sector, the Corporate Sector, any of those sound familiar to you?”

Rumsfield shook his head.

Chauv couldn’t help but laugh, “okay, you guys must be really out of the way, then.”

“You could say that.”

“Look—“ that flash of humor quickly vanished, the Rebel leader’s frustration becoming obvious. “Alright fine. We’ll play your game, Mr. Ru—I’m sorry?”

“Rumsfield.”

“Rumsfield, right. I don’t know who you are, or where you come from—or how in the hell you managed to save my men. Don’t be mistaken, I’m grateful, but I need to know—what is going to happen to us?”

The admiral furrowed his brow and leaned back in his chair. “I’ve not decided.”

“You’ve not decided?” Chauv echoed, standing, “so what am I supposed to do, then?”

Rumsfield looked over to Dr. Pierce. “I believe this conversation has outlived its utility. Thank you, doctor.”

“Now just a damn minute—”

The admiral stood and glared Chauv in the eyes, “you will wait—that’s what you’ll do—until I’ve chosen how to proceed.”

“And what are your options?”

Rumsfield paused, considering his words a moment. Romeo had gotten him into this mess, but now that they were here, they had a right to know. “Keeping you here for the time being or turning you over to the custody of Governor Tarvik.”

“Tarvik . . .” Chauv echoed; a searching gaze came over his eyes and then he started, as if shocked. “You’re with the Empire . . .”

Rumsfield scoffed, “hardly. Considering that not too long ago we dispatched one of their star cruisers—and they one of ours.”

“Wha—“

“Keep me posted on anything worth noting, doctor.” Rumsfield nodded to Pierce and headed for the sickbay doors. “I’ve got bigger issues to deal with right now.”

Once in the corridor, Rumsfield’s demeanor didn’t change; he stalked past two junior officers with nary a nod before tapping his COM badge. “Rumsfield to security, I want a detachment of officers assigned to sickbay. Coordinate with Dr. Pierce, assign those who are well enough to quarters and confine them there. I also want round-the-clock surveillance carried out on a Mr. ‘Chauv,’ the doctor will identify him for you—do not inform him of your intentions.”

“Uh—ah, are you asking us to spy on someone, sir?”

“I’m not asking anything, deputy.”

Rumsfield’s tone was enough to communicate the point. “Ah, uh—yes sir.”

After that brief exchange, it took a moment for the turbolift to arrive. At his request, it took him to the main bridge, but a few seconds before the lift arrived the COMM system chirped again.

“Rumsfield here, go ahead.”

“Admiral—“ it was the voice of Lieutenant Commander Hare. “We just received a report from the RUELLA. Sir . . . I really think you need—“

The turbolift reached the bridge and the doors parted to show Cyber leaning over the guardrail near the back of the bridge and looking at some sensor logs at Selune Pardek’s station.

She turned aside as the doors opened at met the admiral’s gaze. “—you need to take a look at this, sir.”

Rumsfield vacated the transport tube and stepped over to the console. “What do you have to report?”

“The RUELLA just informed us that they’ve picked up some sort of single-man interplanetary craft; they say it appeared out of nowhere on their sensor grid. They tractored it in just a few moments ago.”

The admiral raised an inquisitive brow. “Oh?”

“Yes sir . . . and they’re reporting they’ve recovered someone from inside it. You’re not going to believe it sir . . . they say it’s Lieutenant Lanna Tigris.”

————————————

Willhuff Tarvik paced quietly beside the table of one of the DEATH STAR’s main briefing chambers, a look of utter indignation on his face. "Incredible," he muttered, “Seventy-two standard hours and what do you do? You let her escape.” The governor let out a sigh and turned, resting his palms on the table and glancing at Darth Korriban and Jadeite. “I was fool to think that I could entrust anything of value or importance to a Sith."

Jadeite ran a hand over the ghastly looking wrap of bacta bandage she wore on the side of her face. "Be careful what you say about us, Tarvik." She murmured, “you ma—“

Korriban quickly reached aside and struck her on the fresh side of her face; the unexpected blow caused her to stagger. “You—“ he stood, “will be silent.”

Tarvik could not help but let a smug grin cross his face. Though this turn of events would prove difficult for his plans, the satisfaction of seeing his two greatest annoyances turn on each other was well worth it. “Really now,” his tone bordered on mocking, “this bickering is pointless.”

With a growl Korriban looked away from his wounded mistress and met Tarvik’s eyes in a deadly glare. “The tigress is irrelevant.”

Tarvik responded with a look of defiance; now it was Korriban who would have to keep his temper in check. "Irrelevant?" He laughed bitterly, "I don’t see the logic of that statement, Lord Korriban. Our scanning crews haven’t been able to track her down. What if she finds her way back to her people? What if—"

“The chances of that are astronomically low, Tarvik.” Korriban leaned forward, “and if so, it is then your problem, not mine.”

“Convenient,” Tarvik spat, straightening. “I believe your assistance in my mission is no longer required. I expect you to have cleared out of my landing bay within the hour—the both of you.”

“What?”

Tarvik narrowed his eyes, “you’ve completed your task here—such as it is—now get off of my station.”

            Before either party could exchange words further, a small holoprojection appeared at the center of the table in the form of Admiral Eeedo. “Forgive the interruption, governor, but Com-Scan has received a signal from the alien fleet. They’re demanding to know when their comrades will be returned to them.”

            Tarvik gave the pair across the table a dismissive gesture. “If you will excuse me . . .”

            Korriban narrowed his eyes but didn’t speak, leaving the chambers with his mistress in tow.

Once the doors shut behind them, the governor returned his attention to the holoprojection. “Have it routed down here, admiral.”

The projection scrambled a minute, filling with noise as the Com-Scan computers received the datastream from the distant Federation starfleet, deciphered it into a recognizable image, and then extrapolated that image into an eighteen centimeter hologram. Even at such a small stature, Admiral Rumsfield still managed to look somewhat imposing as he turned his eyes on the governor. "When are we going to get our people back, Tarvik?"

The older man nodded, as if to indicate he understood the admiral’s concern. "We were just making the final preparations to send the pair off to you."

The admiral shifted his stance, folding his arms behind his back. “Pair?” he echoed with a raise of his eyebrow, "you told us there were three surviving prisoners."

“Yes yes,” Tarvik glanced down with a practiced look of regret. “Sadly, one of them died during a recent escape attempt.”

“Died? How?”

“She assaulted my guards and tried to steal one of our starfighters. She managed to get it out of one of the landing bays, but we shot her down.”

“The craft was destroyed?”

“Utterly.”

Romeo paused. “So—no body, then.”

“I’m afraid not.”

Rumsfield looked down slightly, a remorseful expression on his face—one just as practiced as Tarvik’s. "Why was I not informed of this?"

The governor was silent for a moment. "It occurred less than an hour ago. I’ve barely had time to debrief my men."

Rumsfield narrowed his eyes. "I should have been informed the moment this occurred, Tarvik." he growled, "Who was it?"

“According to her statement, her name was Lanna Tigris, a Lieutenant in your starfleet,” the governor spoke with saccharine regret. "You have our sincerest condolences, admiral. It was quite an unfortunate turn of events."

"I want the rest of my men returned to me now, Tarvik. FELIX out."

The hologram flickered away into nothingness before Tarvik could reply. 

————————————

Cyber lightly clapped her hands together and made a face. “An admirable performance.”

“Nowhere near as practiced as his.” Rumsfield straightened his uniform and returned to the command chair, sitting with a heavy sigh. “He knows we have her, but they have no choice but to give us back our men or it will further compromise his position.” He tapped his COM badge, “Rumsfield to sickbay.”

“Pierce here—don’t tell me you have someone else I need to look after.”

The admiral gave a bitter chuckle, “I’m afraid so, doctor. You’ll need to clear two more beds—we’re expecting to get our two officers back soon.”

“This is a sickbay, sir, not a hospital on a starbase. I’ll do my best.”

“Of course you will, doctor. What’s the condition of Lieutenant Tigris?”

“She’s stabilized for the moment. She’s in a lot better shape than I would have expected; mild frostbite from lack of proper insulation, and I had to filter some drugs from her system, but nothing serious.”

“That’s good, doc—“

“I did note one oddity, however.”

“What’s that?”

“It seems as if she had a few previous injuries that have healed.”

“What’s so strange about that?”

“From her last medical examination I can find no record or indication of these injuries, but it looks as if—among other things—she had a rather severe bruising of her ribcage, which seems to have healed on its own. Even with half-Klingon metabolism, it should have taken much longer than she was away for something like that to mend.”

Rumsfield waved his hand dismissively, “this is all terribly interesting, doctor. I’ll be sure to read all about it in your report.”

“But si—“

“Rumsfield out.”

————————————

Elizabeth Denver made her way down through one of the many corridors of the FELIX and stopped at a door with a distinctive red label on it: “CREW QUARTERS: Romeo Weiss, XO.” A pair of security deputies flanked the door, standing quietly and staring at the opposite wall, both armed with phasers.

When the counselor approached the door, one of them stepped forward and held out her arm. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but the commander isn’t to have any visitors.”

Elizabeth frowned, “there’s been a lot of emotional tension on this ship since the admiral took command and I’m concerned for Commander Weiss. As I understand it he’s not spoken with anyone since he was relieved?”

“That’s correct,” the deputy nodded. “He’s not had any visitors.”

“Then all the more reason I should speak with him—make sure he is well.”

“I’m sorry,” the woman shook her head. “You’re not authorized.”

The counselor paused and rubbed her chin, eyeing the officer. “Did the Admiral give you explicit orders not to let anyone see him?”

“No, ma’am.” she admitted, “however that’s standard procedure.”

“And I am still the ship’s counselor, with a duty to look after the emotional well-being of all onboard, correct?”

 “Yes that’s true. But—well, I’m sorry ma’am, I—“

Elizabeth snapped her fingers, “I thought you looked familiar. You have a brother, don’t you? Hern, right? A nurse . . .”

“Y-yes I do.” She nodded.

“I thought as much. How is he doing?”

“He hasn’t complained of any more problems with working in the null gravity ward since he last spoke with you.”

“That’s good to hear,” Elizabeth nodded. “I’m glad I was able to help him.”

“Yeah, well Bill has always been the baby in the family . . . always needing someone to help him with his—” she paused and made a face, “Alright, fine counselor. You can have ten minutes.”

Elizabeth nodded and smiled graciously, “thank you.”

Romeo Weiss was standing near the windows of his quarters, his hands folded neatly behind his back and his eyes gazing out to the stars. The room was somewhat of a mess, mostly because the commander had been spending so much time in it, but a few telltale things gave hints that the chambers had been subjected to a little more abuse than what comes with being lived in.

Elizabeth crouched down and scooped up a half-empty bottle of Saurian brandy from the floor as the doors closed behind her. Romeo turned around and looked at her gravely, “Oh—counselor—I ah . . .”

“S’alright.” She brushed off the bottle and set it on his desk. “I won’t report you. Marc actually keeps a bottle of Aldeberan whiskey, but I don’t think he’s ever going to drink it.”

Weiss leaned over and grabbed his uniform coat, slipping it over his shoulders. “You’ve caught me at a rather inopportune time, counselor. I thought protocol prohibited visitors while a senior officer is confined to quarters.”

“Now’s not the time to quibble over protocol, commander. I’m here to check up on you and bring you up to speed on what’s been happening.”

“Not much, I’d imagine.” Weiss shook his head with a faint smile of appreciation. “We haven’t left the system.”

“They’ve found Lanna.”

“Found?”

“Yes, sir. As I understand it she was transported over from the RUELLA just before she left the system; in fact I’m just coming from sickbay. They found her drifting in space in what looks like one of their starfighters.”

“Well that’s strange . . . I thought we’d agreed with Tarvik to have them released.”

“That’s another thing. They’re claiming she was killed in an escape attempt aboard the craft. Her ship was supposed to have been destroyed.”

“Lies again from that man, I see. He can’t be trusted, counselor.”

Elizabeth nodded, “I know, I agree. But Admiral Rumsfield is determined to make this treaty work. And to be honest—I don’t see what alternative we have.”

“Of course you’re right,” Romeo sighed. “If that damned old fool hadn’t—excuse me,” he turned aside and composed himself. “The admiral doesn’t care for this situation any more than I do—if either he or I had the power we’d seal that hole in space up again and go about our business.”

The counselor took a seat and nodded.

“This was supposed to be a routine charting mission,” the commander continued, ”And had Captain Xavier followed proper protocol this might have never happened. But it’s not just his fault . . . Rumsfield got careless during the battle—made errors in judgment—and he knows it. There’s going to be a formal inquiry into this once the dust settles, and I suspect the admiral is . . . pushing these negotiations too quickly in order to make his intentions look more benign in hindsight.”

Elizabeth couldn’t believe what she was hearing, “Sir—do you . . .?”

“Yes, Elizabeth.” He looked at her seriously. “I know what I’m suggesting—and I know it’s not pretty. But I know Admiral Rumsfield—he was the one who had me posted aboard the FELIX. I wouldn’t put something like this past him. He knows what the stakes are here, for himself most of all.”

Chapter 25
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