| abstract | - Lorel stood with his hands clenched behind him, watching out over the buzzing metropolis of the city he had come to admire. As the sun set over the horizon, he couldn't help but think of Mount Seleya's sunsets, and the calm they seemed to bring him whilst he meditated. He knew he would be away from Vulcan for a long time unless his duties permitted his being there. But he was far from home. It didn't feel that way. There go those human emotions of mine again, he mused. Being half-human and half-Vulcan, he had decided to choose logic as his guide, but there were still times when he had "gut feelings" and the like. It took a lot to control, that was certain. But many of his ancestors had been the same. His great-grandfather included. Sometimes he thought that he had inherited his great-grandfather's aptitude for diplomacy as well as some of his humanness. He had never seen his great-grandfather alive. Only the holodeck afforded him the comfort of seeing him at all – he would sit and talk all day with him, taking in advice and listening to stories of how stubborn his grandson – Lorel's father – was. Even though he didn't seem like family there was a feeling in Lorel that he had been a strong part of it, even though his work had afforded him so little time to see his relatives. Lorel had come not only to admire him as a great-grandfather but also as the great man everyone else saw in him, even though he himself would probably have denied it. Lorel sighed, his mind returning to the work he had to do. Having been recently elected as impromptu president of the Federation had taken him very much by surprise; but considering the events of the last two weeks, it was easy to understand why everything had happened so quickly. Lorel looked at the first PADD that lay on his desk, and saw the large bold letters emblazoned on top of it. "RELOCATION – necessary protocols to be undertaken." Lorel scrolled down to see who had compiled the report. "Ambassador Grolek Tepp" was the name that appeared moments later. Lorel knew the ambassador – but had only met him twice. The Xindi-Arboreal had been instrumental in helping his newly formed government proceed in diplomatic talks with the Federation, creating a liaison that had started just 10 years previously. The ambassador had already become one of the most notable in Xindi history. Lorel was grateful for his support, especially in the election. His deliberations were brought to a sudden halt by a knock on the door. Of course, remembered the president, this is a simple place. No sliding doors, no huge pieces of technology either. Apart from the PADDs that were spread out across his desk, and an emergency communications panel hidden in a place only a few people knew about, there was a shield around the building for protection. "Come in," Lorel said. The handle turned, and Lorel found himself staring at someone he had not expected to see. "Mr President." The man stepped into the light of the continuing sunset. "Fleet Admiral... Turnbull, is it?" The two shook hands. "That's right, sir. We met, albeit briefly, during a conference on interstellar politics a few years ago. Now look where we are..." The admiral allowed himself a chuckle and continued. "You get to be president and I get to cart around about a thousand officers all looking for jobs now that they’re seemingly 'unemployed'." "Yes, that was the conference on Galorndon Core, wasn’t it? How times change. I remember that planetoid used to be a 'barren rock'." Lorel paused briefly, allowing himself to think of an adequate response to the admiral's second statement. "That would be 'luck of the draw', would it not? After all, no-one knew what was going to happen. And the timescale it happened in was alarming." He paused again, allowing himself the time to forget about the recent terrible events, before turning back the admiral. "I regret to inform you that I have a lot of work to do. Is there something you require?" Lorel noticed his calm, Vulcan self returning to the forefront. "Well, to be honest, sir... I need orders." Lorel was temporarily taken aback by this statement, and a look of confusion crept over his face. "I am not sure I understand what you mean." "Let me put it this way. As Fleet Admiral, I have general control over the movements and actions of the fleet. To be frank, no-one has had anything to do but sit tight since the attack. No-one has been recalled, or sent to search for the people who attacked us or – " "Admiral, I am well aware of this. Unfortunately, my hands are tied. We do not have enough ships to patrol every sector, to go on the lookout for our attackers. Keeping them in their current position may keep the enemy out for a while, but moving them all around will all but eliminate our hold on several key systems." "I see, Mr President, but keeping ships by themselves will only give the enemy an advantage. If they come back with more of their ships – and I'm sure they have plenty more – we could have an invasion on our hands." Lorel saw his point. Before he could counter, however, Turnbull spoke again. "We could ask the Romulans to help." "They will only help if there is a threat which actually presents itself. They will not help us on the premise that there could be an attack." "Permission to speak freely?" "Of course." "The Romulans have been our allies for 200 years now. We've helped them an awful lot. Rebuilding their government after the Reman Shinzon's defeat by the USS Enterprise-E, assisting them in gaining more trade allies, and not to mention stopping a war that nearly sprung up between them and the Xindi just 23 years ago. To be honest, sir, I just think it's time they returned the favour." Lorel let the words sink in, trying to think of the cons, but not quickly enough. It did seem like a good idea. "I'll have to meet with the other members of the Diplomatic Corps, I'm due to see them at 0900 tomorrow morning. I'll discuss it, but I doubt any decision will be made in such a short space of time." "With all due respect, Mr President, we may not have much time. The Romulans have more ships than they have had in a decade, and with no star systems to annex like they did in the old days they are also doing what our ships are: nothing." "Are you still speaking freely, Admiral?" "My apologies, Mr President. I am trying to act in the best interests of the Federation." "As are we all. However, you referenced earlier that it was in fact I whom had become president?" Turnbull strode from in front of Lorel’s desk and towards the tinted windows that were now the only protection between him and the sunset's fiery finale. "Well, I don't really envy you. There was a lot of competition for the presidency under the circumstances. Having a logical mind certainly helped..." Turnbull let his words drift in the air for a moment, then changed the topic as he realised he was shifting uneasily. "Are there any orders, Mr President?" Lorel approached the human's right-hand side, watching as ships of all size and description turned on their exterior lighting to combat the dark in which they were flying. Waiting for only a moment, he summoned up a few pieces of information that he needed. "What's the status of the Pioneer? The last thing I was told was that it had a few problems with its warp drive, and it was undergoing maintenance at the Archer IV shipyards." "I think they've nearly sorted it. They had an experimental compound running their engines as opposed to the normal matter/antimatter reaction. Apparently it was quite promising but it only lasts for four days maximum. They were ferrying survivors from the recent attack when they stopped dead in space and had to be towed back to Archer IV." "And now?" "They have a limited crew but their chief engineer is by far the best in the fleet." "I suppose you are only saying that as he was chief engineer on the various ships you commanded. My grandfather often tells me about his father's crewmates on one of the first Enterprise's. One of them, the chief engineer, was often referred to as a "miracle worker", for being given little time to complete assignments and finishing them even earlier." "It seems a pity that he's not here now, we could use him." "How much time will it be until the Pioneer is operational again?" "Captain Mantree told me this morning that it would be by the end of day tomorrow. But they are waiting for crew replacements, some of which will arrive by the end of the week." "Unfortunately that is too much time. I require the Pioneer's service on active duty as soon as their repairs are complete, but I must speak to Captain Mantree before his ship departs, as I have a mission for him." "As Fleet Admiral, am I privy to knowing what this mission is?" "For the moment it is unnecessary. All I can tell you is that completing this mission could help to save the Federation."
|
