Earth Space Dock
Base Commander's Office
In Orbit above Earth
─•~:~•─
Anna looked out the one window in the small commander's office on ESD. In front of her was the Moon, lonely and white against the light of Sol.
In front of the Moon, swarms of worker bees and shuttles were devouring what was left of RRW Irix. For the last eighteen hours, Starfleet and The FMC had been tearing the Romulan Warbird inside and out, looking for any possible answer to the savagery she – and millions of others – had witnessed just that morning.
None of this made any sense to the new President.
The Federation had done everything that could be done to help and support the Romulan Republic, and more. In a meeting a few years ago, when she was still only the Councilwoman of Earth, D'Tann had told Anna of his goal of having the Republic join the Federation.
He spoke well, and his feelings felt true – on the surface.
Romulans were a race of mysteries. Lying came as naturally to them as breathing did to Anna.
Was he always lying to me? Did I get played like a god damned Hurling match?
For her part, Anna honestly believed D'Tann's sincerity. There were many, many issues to be worked out before the Republic could join the United Federation of Planets. Romulan citizens would have to be educated to Federation standards. Romulan economic interests would have to abide by Federation rules.
The Republican Navy would have to be stood down, and The Republic would have to place their security – and trust – in Starfleet and the Marines to protect their new home. And, most deeply, The Federation would have to trust the Romulans.
Much had been written and said about the endless tension between the Federation and the Klingon Empire, saying that it would be the doom of both races to ever commit to a total war. Anna had always dismissed that notion.
For one thing, nearly two centuries of peace between Earth and Kronos stood against maybe two decades of war. For another, in every single occasion that the Klingons had challenged their warrior's spirit against the Federation, they had lost.
Even T'Kuvma's War, fought almost two centuries ago, and the closest the Klingons had ever gotten to defeating the Federation, had ultimately ended in their defeat.
But the Romulans were different. They acted differently, they treated war differently, and they fought differently.
The Romulans always had one clear advantage over the Klingons. They could think.
A century before T'Kuvma's War, the Earth-Romulan War had come even closer to strangling the United Federation of Planets in the cradle.
In fact, and by Anna's own words in her graduating thesis, it should have. The Romulans had attacked Earth, a feat the Klingons had never dared to even attempt. Had it not been for Humanity's sheer stubbornness, Anna might very well have not existed today.
And even though United Earth drove the Romulans from their home, the war hadn't ended after the Battle of Sol. It took three more years before the Earth-Romulan War finally closed out, and only did so because both United Earth and The Romulan Star Empire had, quite literally, slaughtered each other to very nearly the last ship and man.
For all of Anna's adult life in politics, her largest fear had been of a total war between The Star Empire and The Federation.
She believed in her heart that the Federation would prevail, but at what cost? Had Alidar Jarok not defected when he did, The Star Empire might have charged over Golandan Core. Or if old Spock hadn't been as good as he was at what he did, Sela might have conquered Vulcan, and it would be a tall order to remove her from that world.
The cost might have been enough that the Federation might have lost against the Dominion.
As it was, and only because of the Romulans, they had just barely driven the Changelings and their Jem Hadar horde back through the Bajoran Wormhole.
Anna watched with curiosity as a Worker Bee used its plasma cutter to shed a nacelle from the battered Warbird's body and followed the little bee as it hauled the larger engine down to Earth.
The Bee was likely taking the part to St George's Island in the Falklands, home of Starfleet's primary breaking yards. After the nacelle had been studied and catalogued, it would be melted down and repurposed.
In a few years from now, some new starship under construction would have elements of Romulan hull material in her own hull.
Will the poor bastards flying that ship know that a part of their ship killed four hundred and twenty of their brothers and sisters?
Nothing about today made sense.
The Republic was powerful, and skilled in war, but it was not, in any way, comparable to the Star Empire. Anna had more and better ships.
Mark and his Marines would make sport of any Republic infantry that dared to stand and fight.
Douglas and his Starfleet had spent a decade learning the hard knocks of war from the Dominion, and they were more than ready for D'Tann's quaint little collection of ships.
What in the hell is going through his mind?
Anna couldn't answer that question either. When she confronted him a few hours ago, D'Tann claimed that destroying Red Ball Express wasn't an act of his doing. He instead blamed Sela and Tomalak for the affair.
But that didn't change the fact that Irix was registered RRW – Romulan Republic Warbird – and not IRW – Imperial Romulan Warbird – as the Imperial Romulan State claimed to inherited from the Star Empire.
And it also didn't change the fact that even if Sela and Tomalak had stolen an RRW and used it to attack the Red Ball Express, as D'Tann had claimed, the Republic no longer had the ability to keep the IRS contained in their small holding on Golandan Core.
That, or D'Tann had lost control of his military, still composed largely of ambitious and politically minded officers of the old Star Navy.
But Anna had, in turn, meant what she said. Either scenario meant that the Republic was now a threat to the Federation. And unlike Inyo, or Stonn, or even Nathan Samuels, Anna McClair dealt with threats, permanently.
She had the political backing of the Council, and both Mark and Douglas would give her the strength to resolve that threat.
But a part of her still couldn't understand why this all had to happen. Why her very first act as President would be the very likely dismantling of the Romulan Republic. Why D'Tann was abandoning a decade's worth of trust and friendship with the Federation.
In law school, Anna was often asked in her essays, Qui Bono? Who Benefits? What possible benefit was there for the Republic to invoke the wrath of the Federation?
They couldn't win a war. Even if – and to Anna's mind, a strong if at that – The Republican Navy managed to turn back Task Force 57 on the first attempt of collecting the murdering bastards responsible for Red Ball Express, there was no way they could do the same on the second try, or the third, or however many tries it took until Anna succeeded.
And there was no way she would ever back down.
She turned away from the window, sat down at the desk, and sighed.
Why?
Before she could try to answer that question, her terminal beeped with an incoming message. She took a sip of her luke-warm coffee, the same from just that morning, and answered with a sigh, "Yes? What's it now?"
"Sorry to disturb you, Madam President," answered Mei Xia, who came aboard ESD to continue managing comm's traffic from Earth, "There's a QC coming in for you from Earth. It's coded personal."
"Nothin to worry yourself over Mei," Anna replied as she took another sip, "I've a good idea of who that is. Put it through."
A few seconds later, the UFP logo dispersed from the screen, and in its place was the one thing that made sense to Anna today.
"Good fucking god Anastasia" Sean McClair, Anna's Husband and an authority on Bonsai Trees said with frustration, "I've been trying for hours to get through to you! Are you alright? What the hell's going on up there?! The house has been shaking for hours now for all the god damned fighters and ships flying over."
Anna allowed herself a smile, and put her hand on the screen, a facsimile for touching Sean's face, "Good Lord Sean, calm yerself me love. I haven't seen ya this worked up since the last time I took off me clothes for ya! And how long ago was that now?"
Sean was stunned in place. Sarcasm was something Sean never mastered.
Anna loved her husband, deeply and truly.
She could have had her choice of dozens of braver, stronger, better looking, and less neurotic men. Despite his designs on Alesha Dixon, Anna knew she had only to say the words I want you to him, and Mark would turn from a confident Marine to a little puppy dog on her lap.
And it certainly wouldn't be beyond her powers to call one of the very tall, very well armed, and very handsome young men from the Grizzly Bears who served as her protection detail into the office with a locked door, a bottle of Jameson's in hand and her almost – but not quite – transparent Black Dress lying on the floor next to her.
But Sean was honest, kind, and sincere. And she brought something to Anna's life that Mark or the Grizzlies never could. Simplicity.
"It's a joke, love. I'm just fine. Don't worry yerself too much. I'm sorry I didn't call earlier. It's been a wee bit busy up here. I haven't even had time to pour a second coffee." Anna said, still holding the screen with her hand.
"You've had just a single coffee today on the back of all this?! It really is an emergency then, my god!" Sean replied, catching the obvious sarcasm beat.
He sighed, and continued, "I realize that you probably can't tell me everything, but what the hell happened? Some friends of mine from the Gardens are saying we're at war with the Romulans now?! And what about the Blue Ball Express? Is that still okay?"
Anna couldn't help but smirk.
Sean's simplicity was already cheering her up, "Yer quite right, I can't really tell ya too much Sean. We're not quite at war with the Rommies yet, but that might change. Hopefully not, but always plan for the worst. The Red Ball Express got blown up. We're pretty certain D'Tann had a hand in it. The Lads in San Fran are workin' on it as we speak, so that accounts for your problems with the house shaking."
She sighed deeply before continuing, "This is just all too much. It all happened so fast; I can barely wrap me mind around it all. Say something to take me away from it all, me love. How are the wee trees doin?"
Sean nodded, at least aware of the support his wife needed, "The Vulcan Kalifars are starting to bloom in quite nicely actually. It seems they do better in Chinese Soil of all things, wouldn't you know? I think I'll be ready to start trimming them next week."
Anna shook her head, "Vulcan wee trees grow better in Chinese soil. Ya know, that really isn't the strangest thing I've heard, but it's up there. What about the wee maple ones Mark sent after the Hurlin match-up in May?"
Sean held one of the indicated wee maple trees up so the QC recorder would capture the image. A white pot held the three-inch tree, which looked to be growing nicely, "Those were quite a challenge. Your Canadian friend doesn't understand the first thing about Bonsai. The ones he sent to me were on death's door. What sort of idiot thinks that actual cow hide is a good fertilizer in this day and age, when Triclinium exists?! And don't even get me started on his concept of syrup, or that leery eye of his on your Belfast GAA sweater, my love."
Anna lost her composure totally and laughed, a deeply needed release of tension, "Are ye jealous of a Canuck then, me old love Sean? Oh, be still my heart to witness the pair of ye fightin over me heart or me wee replicotton panties! I'd almost pay real money to witness that affair!"
The joke was, as usual, lost on Sean, as he held his wedding ring up the screen, "This still means something where I'm from, my love. Your friend Mark might be able to out-shoot me, out-fight me, perhaps even out-fuck me, but I'll not let that barbarian claim my wife from me!"
Anna again smiled and kissed the screen as though she were kissing Sean on his quivering lips, "My brave little champion Sean, ready to defend me honour against the Barbarism of Canada. Rest yer soul and temper me love, both me heart and me replicotton panties are still yours and yours alone, till death do we part."
She again caressed the screen with her hand. Sean was a reasonably handsome man. His brown eyes had a boyish charm about them, as did his brown hair cut in a half-fade style. He kept a permastubble that felt like heaven to both Anna's hands and thighs – what few occasions she could feel it on the latter part of her body aside – and he always had a simple and happy outlook on life, no matter how dark the skies looked above.
"Today's been a very rough day Sean, and I feel as though it ain't over just yet. I needed the laugh." She said, resting her head on the desk and letting her own eyes stare into his.
"I married you, Anastasia, not the other way around. At least one of us must keep a sane mind. Or would you prefer that I was the President of the United Federation of Planets, and you were the simple Botanist constantly worried that her husband might stolen from her side by some unwashed and barbaric Canadian Marine? I'll have my friend at Oxford go over the recall election laws if you want." Sean replied, perhaps at last finally understanding sarcasm.
"And I said yes to that proposal because you have this naively simple view of everythin that keeps me at least halfway sane, Sean me dearest love. If ye never change, I've another feelin that everything will work out in the end." Anna said happily.
"I'm sure whatever is going on, you'll get it sorted. You always do, Anastasia. Now, I may not have the knowledge of space wars or politics that you do, but If I may make one suggestion, why not put that unwashed and barbaric Canadian Marine of yours to beneficial use and point him at the Romulans, or whoever else is giving us such a tough time?" He asked.
She nodded back, "It's on the list of things to do. Just above ye finally gettin off your arse, away from your wee trees, and puttin a baby or two inside me. Be assured as the Lord's Vengeance on the Rommies, you'll be makin a birthday tree for wee Amber and Ryan within a year from today. Tis a daunting task before you, my one and true love. Best make yerself ready for it."
Sean groaned. The subject of starting a family together had been the one argument in the McClair household. Anna longed for children of her own, but Sean had never been convinced on the idea. For a long time, their mutual careers put a damper on the plan. But Anna was now the President, and if she had to, she wouldn't be above writing a law to make that dream a reality.
"Well, I suppose we could have a good discussion about children when you finally make it home-" he started to say but got caught off by his wife.
"Discussion time is over. Ye can consider that an executive order. When I finally make it back home, yer to be in the bedroom, with naught but those cute wee green socks on, and you'll not be leaving again until I'm a mother. And I'm not above havin those unwashed and barbaric Marines, be they Canadian, Irish, or Klingon, strap ya down until the work's done." Anna said, sitting up and speaking seriously in her sarcasm.
Sean sighed, knowing he was beaten, "That won't be necessary. I suppose I'll get myself stretched up then. Assuming of course, we still have a home for you to come back to, and I'm not instead strapped down in a Romulan prison somewhere. The First Gentleman might make a tempting hostage, if my somewhat limited knowledge of space wars and politics serves me well."
"God and Romulans combined won't keep ye out from between me legs Sean. I can't say when, but I'll be coming home, rest assured-" Anna replied, before she was cut off by another beep on her terminal.
Anna sighed deeply again, regret in her heart this time, "Afraid that duty calls me away. Be off stretching then! And thanks for checking in Sean. I love you."
Sean touched his own screen this time, "I love you too, Anastasia. Be safe, alright? I'm sure God won't be pleased if the Romulans stop you from this work you've got planned for me"
Sean vanished away from the screen, and Mei Xia's voice returned, "Sorry again Madam President, but I've got Colonel Jackson from FMC Legal Affairs on the other QC line. He says the Council is ready for your signature on the formal economic sanction against the Republic."
"Two things Mei," Anna said, tossing what was left her coffee in the waste extractor, "Ye say sorry once more for doin yer job, and I'll have ye scrubbin plasma coils for the rest of yer time in the Fleet, and don't think I won't order Mitchell to make that happen. Second, can ye send someone over to check on Kathy for me? She'll need another coffee with the one I'll be havin as ye put Robert through for me."
Anna couldn't see the young girl, but she suspected she was nodding furiously, "Yes Madam President, right away!"
Poor Kathryn Janeway had retreated to a side office on ESD shortly following the attack and had been refusing to come out or even speak to anyone for almost 17 hours.
Anna's heart was broken for her close friend, still remembering all their shared coffees and stouts when Kathy had been an Ensign, doing a tour of duty in historical research in Belfast. Her talents were being objectively wasted, trapped behind the desk of COMDSFLT as she was. Kathy had spent the last few years burying herself in her work, spending eighteen hours a day in her office at HQ, and devoting her few precious free moments to lectures at the Academy.
Anna longed to simply order Mitchell to put her back on the bridge of a starship, but that power was neither his nor hers to use. And as much as it frustrated Anna, it wasn't a line she'd ever cross.
In another of her thesis, Anna had steadfastly maintained that civilian control of the military was an advantage that the Federation could never afford to squander. The Klingon Great Houses would as soon slaughter each other as they would an external enemy, were it not for the force of will that Martok possessed.
Cardassia Prime, with her soil still irradiated all to hell and her people jobless, broken and defeated, stood testament to the fact that giving the military too much control was also a poor choice. Cardassian Central Command and the Obsidian Order had brought Cardassia out of starvation and into galactic power status.
And they had also been the same two organizations to dismantle the once proud Cardassian Union by allowing a madman like Dukat to align his destiny with the Dominion.
Only the Romulans had been different, and the irony of the matter was that the difference lay in emulating the Federation. The Tal Shiar might have achieved a death grip of political control over Romulan society, and The Romulan Senate might also have emulated Ancient Rome in their corruption and intrigue, but even in the dying moments of the Star Empire's long history, the Imperial Navy still served – and obeyed – the Senate.
Even when the madman Shinzon overthrew the Senate and seized Romulus for himself in his brief reign of terror, The Imperial Navy still only took orders from the Imperial Ministry of Defence and not the false Praetor.
From everything she knew about New Romulus, D'Tann's people still held to that tradition. Bragg was the Romulan version of Douglas Mitchell, and he reported to an oversight committee, just as Douglas did to the Starfleet Admiralty Board. And just like the Admiralty, the Romulan Defence Oversight Committee in turn reported to civilian authority, be it the Federation Council or the Republican Senate.
It just doesn't make sense, Anna thought for the hundredth time today.
She decided to try to lose herself in her work instead. The Council needed her signature, the swarm of vultures still wanted press statements, and she wanted this trouble solved in time to make it home for Sean to put the babies into her belly.
Making sense would come later.
