The lightning-like discharges and violent flows of red-orange plasma clouds over a darkness were like that of a volatile nebula. Except nebulae do not have dangerous gravity waves that force a ship to constantly correct its course with engines or thrusters, requiring the vigilant attention of a pilot or helmsman. And energy had to be wasted in maintaining a stronger than normal structural integrity field and shields. Hyperspace was beautiful, but in the way molten lava could be called beautiful.
The Hakudo Maru had been in hyperspace for three and a half days, laboring to remain in the wake of the Earthforce ship Brittany. T'Sara and her people were warned that should the Vulcan-built ship ever veer off course, they may be lost forever. It was even more doubly true when the crew of mostly academicians did not have the codes for the hyperspace navigation beacons or any of the jumpgates in the network. Furthermore, the ship's sensors were cut by 20% by the conditions of hyperspace. T'Sara, although a full Vulcan, was not immune to the effects of hyperspace. Her Vulcan nature enabled her to keep control of herself, but her human and Betazoid colleagues were largely bedridden. It was, as Captain Takashima called it, Hyperspace Travel Syndrome. In hyperspace, the apparent motion of a ship as a person's eyes perceived it, was not the true motion as indicated by the ship's instruments. The constantly shifting patterns played optical tricks, confusing the viewer's perception of up and down, forward and backward. As a result, nausea, vertigo and panic attacks were intense in emotional beings capable of imagination. Especially in the Betazoids whose mental shields were constantly battered by the flood of emotions. Normally, they would be able to endure this. The properties of hyperspace, however, somehow amplified the telepathic abilities of anyone onboard. T'Sara had ordered most of the windows on the Hakudo Maru closed or darkened to spare her people of the sickening view outside and had extra bed sheets and blankets collected to serve as covering curtains over the large windows of the Recreation Room.
T'Sara was alone on the bridge, except for the human helmsman. It was almost time for the helmsman to trade his place with another pilot and go to the infirmary for rest, and tri-ox and anti-nausea treatments. Normally, as a touch-telepath, T'Sara wouldn't sense the unease of the helmsman, but her ability was just as amplified in hyperspace as the Betazoids'. It was, she agreed, a most uncomfortable way to travel.
It was a wonder that the species of this quantum reality did not seek to develop some other form of interstellar travel. Federation science was naturally a most attractive boon to Laurel Takashima's engineers. In the first two days, Earthforce engineers indeed were aboard the Hakudo Maru, trying to ferret out the ship engines' secrets. T'Sara thought back to those days.
Laurel once more appeared puzzled at the silent communication between Betazoids. To T'Sara's eyes, the human woman seem to want to ask something but was holding back for the sake of diplomatic politeness.
Lady Neclauna, of course, knew why. "Captain Takashima, is there anything you'd like to ask of us? Do not worry about offending us. My society on Betazed emphasizes open honesty and nothing is hidden from us." T'Sara arched an eyebrow. It was needless of the Betazoid noblewoman to be so cryptic, yet subtly taunting. Since Betazed was not yet a Federation world, having only recently applied for membership, T'Sara did see it within her bounds to discuss such methods with Neclauna. Fortunately, she did not sense that Laurel caught any deeper meaning in Neclauna's words.
"Umm, do you have some kind of...facial expression language? I know there are alien cultures that base communication almost entirely on body language. Many times, I've seen some of your people carrying on verbal conversations and suddenly would stop talking and...just looking. Looking...and understanding each other. They would sometimes continue to talk verbally after that. What's up with that? Not that it bothers me. I'm just curious."
Neclauna smiled. "We're telepathic."
Laurel's knees nearly buckled and looked as if someone punched her stomach. A faint wash of alarm and horror splashed against T'Sara's mental shields. Her sharp Vulcan ears could hear her soft mutter under her breath, "I should be a fiction writer! What was I fooling myself for??"
T'Sara stepped forward. "Please do not alarm yourself. We apologize for not informing you earlier. Deception was not our intention."
Laurel pulled back away from the diminutive Vulcan woman, looking at her as if she had turned into a Sheliak. "You too?!"
T'Sara knew she should be feeling quite annoyed at this human's offensive reaction, but she had to remind herself that this human was not from her home reality. "In a sense. I am a touch telepath. I can only sense a person's emotions and thoughts through skin-to-skin contact. We are not touching. For all purposes in this instance, I am not a telepath."
Laurel's eyes were nearly popping. "Is it just...some of you? Why isn't there an agency aboard to manage you?" Suspicion bloomed in her eyes. "Or IS there?"
Neclauna looked as if she was keeping herself from running to her quarters and sicking up. What was she seeing in the Earthforce officer's mind? "Peace and calm. Peace. As the good Director said, there is no deception involved. Telepathy is not a recent phenomenon for us. It is known throughout the history of the planets Betazed and Vulcan. Humans in our universe do not have widespread telepathy, but a few has been born with the ability. We do not employ...agencies" The Betazoid woman infused the word with distaste. "to manage the ability. However, we do have strong ethics about how it is used. It has never been abused on Betazed since the reforms of Dainara, nor has it on Vulcan since Surak."
"Just...how widespread is..." Laurel's horror and suspicion were still growing in her eyes. "telepathy in your races?"
Neclauna glanced at T'Sara. The middle-aged Vulcan nodded subtly. Complete honesty. "All of us, Captain. All of us. With varying degrees of strength and capability among us. Some of us are more empathic, some are more telepathic and a rare few have some telekinetic ability." She pursed her lips as she sensed new emotions roiling within Laurel. "Vulcans, as I understand, nearly all are touch-telepaths. There has been no telekinesis among them, not since their warlike past."
"Entire worlds of teeks and teeps!" Laurel was gasping.
It was soon after that that there was a flurry of shuttle traffic between the two ships, transporting personnel back to their respective vessels. T'Sara could not comprehend such a violent prejudice against mentalics. Thankfully, Laurel did not broadcast the information to her own crew and only used the excuse of a diplomatic gaffe for the evacuation of the Federation research vessel. Given Laurel's extent of prejudice, T'Sara wondered why she did not inform her crew. Perhaps it was to prevent a panic, an outright attack or even a mutiny from occurring, if the prejudice was indeed held by most humans in this reality. At least, she did not order her cruiser to take off, leaving T'Sara and her people stranded and lost in hyperspace. The way Lady Neclauna described what she sensed and read in Laurel was troubling to say the least. Most prominent was the mental image of a symbol that seem to be from the Terran Greek and from Alpha Centaurian cultures. A Psi symbol, as T'Sara recalled from her studies of ancient mythologies, towering over the red landscape of Mars. That symbol was drenched in fear and revulsion. Most troubling, indeed.
T'Sara looked up as the doors of a turbo lift slid open, admitting the replacement helmsman, and mindlessly watched her take the seat eagerly vacated by the human man who was decidedly looking as if he'd replaced his blood with green Vulcan blood through a transfusion.
T'Sara hoped the latest episode would not influence dealings with the Earth Alliance negatively.
Somewhere near Quadrant 27
Lieutenant Telan peered at the main viewer showing star streaks rushing past the Enterprise from the command chair. Her antennas were moving in every direction, tasting the air and giving her instinctive information on the other crewmen on the bridge. It was nearing the end of Gamma Shift, and the Andorian woman would be glad to have her meal before going to bed. She looked down at her wine-red uniform. She could not wait to have the golden symbols of a commander added to her uniform epaulet, thus satisfying the family tradition of military service. Granted, Starfleet was not as military as the Imperial Guard in the days of her ancestor, Talas, but Starfleet deserved high respect and honor ever since it helped the Andorian Imperial Guard defeat the Romulans in the 22nd century. Telan was the latest in the Clan of Talas to prove the Andorians' worth in Starfleet, thus rivaling the Clan of Shran. She wondered if she would ever see her family-clan on the Andorian colony of Pvarto again. If she could not return home, she could not bring the honor she'd so far collected to the Clan of Talas.
Ensign Manning called from the science station for Lt. Telan's attention. "Sir, there's a ship just ahead. It just appeared on the sensors. It's a transport. It must have come out of that structure we detected earlier."
"Magnify visual," ordered Telan, tossing her white hair back over her shoulders while her antennas swiveled to turn their entire attention to the main viewer. The viewer magnified its view until it could capture an alien ship slowly moving away from three struts arranged like a drydock. The structure must be a jump gate.
Orders from Captain Kirk were to continue on to the Epsilon Eridani System and ignore any ship detected. But these orders didn't say anything about not looking. Theoretically, as long as the Enterprise was at warp, the Federation starship was undetectable by anyone in this universe. This alien ship appeared fairly large and had three parts connected to a central hull. The front, if that was the front, was a rustic golden, while the rest of the bulbous hull was a grayish blue. Telan did not see any engine, which must be at the back of the alien craft. She turned to Ensign Manning and caused her left antenna to rise almost straight up.
Manning had worked with Telan long enough to recognize the question. "There are 179 life signs on the alien vessel..." Manning's voice trailed off. Telan turned her right antenna toward the ensign, indicating encouraging attention, then the antenna returned to the direction of the main viewer. Manning took a deep breath. "Some of these life signs are fading. Two have vanished. Sir, they're dying over there." Telan widened her eyes at that piece of news. She peered at the alien craft once more. There was nothing to indicate scars or damages from a battle. The current communications officer spoke up.
"Sir, we're getting a distress signal over tachyon." The young man at the communications station pressed a button, activating speakers.
"...to any vessel, we need help. The Dark Angel is walking among us and we need help against it. We are moral people, but the Dark Angel does not care. Please help us."
Telan's antennas nearly flattened themselves onto her white hair. The plaintive call was very distressing and melodramatic. A hostile alien was onboard that ship, killing people with impunity. Ensign Manning indicated that more of the life signs had begun to fade and one more of the aliens had just died.
Kirk's orders did not forbid any assistance to a ship in distress. Lt. Telan's Starfleet training in such a situation kicked in. "Mr. Tarkaan, adjust course to alien vessel. Increase speed to Warp 7.5 and drop to impulse at 100 kilometers from the alien vessel." Some action, finally. It meant more honor and getting closer to that promotion. Telan turned to the communications officer. "Answer the alien that help is coming. Inform Sickbay to prepare to receive patients and tell Security to prepare a boarding party." She pointed at the tactical operations officer. "Prime the transporters."
Lieutenant Telan of Clan Talas stood up straight from the command chair in an Imperial Guard stance of readiness for combat. This so-called angel was about to receive its own medicine.
A scream rudely jerked Kirk out of his sleep. His heart jumped from a near- comatose state to hyper beating. He really hated being awakened this way. His adrenaline-cleared ears finally transformed the scream into the wail of an alarm klaxon.
Red Alert!
Kirk jumped out of the bed, opening his wardrobe in the same motion. Grabbing an uniform, Kirk stumbled as the deck jumped up a few inches and the air vibrated. Weapons fire! What's going on?? "Bridge to Captain Kirk." The voice coming out of the communicator by his bed was that of Lt. Telan. Pulling his pants on, he reached for the communicator button. The deck dropped a few inches, indicating another weapon hit, and Kirk fell down to the deck, missing the button. "Bridge to Captain Kirk, please respond!" Kirk jumped up, slamming the button with the heel of his hand. "Kirk here, what's the hell are you doing to my ship!"
"We're under attack! Two alien vessels came out of--" The deck vibrated with a weaker weapon hit on the Enterprise's shields. "They came out of hyperspace!"
Kirk frowned. If they were detected, it meant his starship had dropped out of warp some time ago. What was his starship doing out of warp? No matter. "Lieutenant, I'm coming! Hold the fort!" He continued to dress hurriedly.
The Enterprise swept around for another phaser shot, shooting a missile out of space. This action saved the alien transport once more from the two predator ships. For her trouble, another energy beam grazed her shields which glowed angrily. An alien warship flew away from the Federation starship, anticipating a response. A phaser shot off the tip of the top forward-pointing wing of the alien vessel, sending the singed purple horn spinning out into space, flashing a golden symbol as it spun.
The wounded predator's twin rose high above the starship, its sharp beak- like nose seeming to prepare to bite at the starship. The bite came in the form of bolts of energy flying true at the Enterprise. The energy bolts slammed against the Federation shields successively in almost the same point, straining its ability to maintain its full strength. The alien transport, though grateful for the multiple saves that the Enterprise afforded it, discretely moved out away from the battle to save itself.
Gamma Shift had been quickly replaced with Kirk's Alpha Shift. Lt. Telan remained to explain the situation to Captain Kirk.
"I apologize, Captain, but--" A hit grazed the shields once more, interrupting the Andorian's explanation. She talked fast as if she was afraid the next hit would kill her. Her antennas were wilting. "We received a distress call from a transport. Its passengers were dying." And not of a hostile alien murderer. Instead, the killer turned out to be a disease. She should have investigated more carefully! Telan abandoned her dignified stance in favor of holding onto the rail around the center of the bridge as another hit stumbled her. "Then 3 minutes later, these warships came out of hyperspace, claiming that we were trespassing in their space and we should surrender. They said they were trying to save the dying aliens from their disease by destroying them. Of course, I refused to allow that to happen." The shame of it all burned in Telan. She should have informed Kirk the minute she dropped out of warp. What would Mother say? If this was an Imperial Guard warship, she would deserve being shot.
Kirk pursed his lips. The Centauri. It could not be helped. What's done is done, although he should have been woken for this situation. "You did well, Lt. Telan. It's what I would do. Go to your post." Telan started with pleased surprised, and saluted before running into the turbolift.
The starship captain turned his attention back to the battle. The Centauri warships looked like predator birds. It put to mind of the Klingon bird-of- prey, except these were much larger, at least twice as long as the Enterprise, and had two more wings. They looked imperially magnificent. The Enterprise was still damaged from the battle over Khitomer, but repairs were ongoing. There was no planet nearby: the nearest star system was lightyears away. To save his crew and ship, all restraints had to be done away with.
"Mr. Chekov, target each of these vessels. Two photon torpedoes for each. I want you to disable the ships. Fire."
Four flaring red stars shot out of the neck between the saucer and engine sections. The Centauri Vorchan class cruisers attempted to evade the torpedoes. But the torpedoes were too fast and were able to track the Centauri Vorchans. The photon torpedoes slammed into the Vorchans, blowing large gaping holes out of their hulls. Both were noticeably pushed off their courses by the blasts. One of them was unlucky enough to have both torpedoes hit almost the same spot on its neck. The ship was split in two by the twin blasts. The lights on the beheaded ship flickered and went out as bodies were seen streaming out of the open ends. The power for emergency bulkheads finally came on, saving whoever was left inside the ship. The Vorchan was out of commission for now. The other Centauri Vorchan appeared to be enraged by the destruction wreaked by such an opponent that was just a bit smaller than a Drazi Sunhawk. A panel opened under the beak-like head of the surviving Vorchan and two large balls dropped out and flew, maneuvering their ways toward the Enterprise.
These must be their own torpedoes. "Phasers, target those balls and fire!" They made a friend in the Vree, and already, they made an enemy in these Centauri. He supposed Spock would say it's a balance of affairs in this universe. He hoped it wasn't true.
Angry red bolts shot out of the Enterprise, as the starship maneuvered to evade the onrushing torpedoes, both of which detonated as the phaser bolts touched them. The surviving Vorchan, meanwhile, fired bolts from its twin ion cannons, its most powerful energy weapon at hand.
The ion bolts splashed against the already damaged Federation shields.
Spock calmly called out, "Shields down to 83%." Uhura shouted over the din of the battle, "Captain, they're ignoring our hails!"
Kirk grunted. Then it couldn't be helped. "Chekov, hit their engines, disable them!"
The Enterprise's impulse engines glowed a stronger red and the starship sped around the Centauri warship, swerving to face the backside of the ship. Phasers lashed out at the Centauri twin engines. The phaser beams visibly bent slightly and grazed the engines. The attempt to disable failed.
Kirk threw his head around at Spock, looking surprised. "Spock! What was that?"
"A form of gravimetric shielding. It would appear that the Centauri employ a form of gravity field beyond their hull. While not as effective as our shields, it is enough to gravitically bend light, in this instance, phaser, so that it would miss its target." Spock clutched to hold himself in his chair as the starship shook under another Centauri barrage. "Shields down to 79%." The Vulcan stared at Kirk for the next order.
Kirk said, "Photon torpedoes seem to do the trick well enough. Fire one into their engines!"
A flaring red star shot out, too fast for the Centauri to shoot it out of space. It found its mark in the backside of the Centauri Vorchan and exploded against it. The Centauri ship's nose dipped sharply as the lights flickered on the ship until weaker lights shone through the few windows of the Vorchan. They were emergency lights coming on.
Spock reported, "The gravimetric shielding is gone..."
Kirk pounded a fist into an open hand. "Good! Target those weapons with phasers! And--" Spock interrupted.
"Jim, their weapons are down as well. It seems Centauri weapons are tied with their engines."
"What?" Kirk looked aghast at the listing Centauri cruiser on the main viewer. They'd accidentally tripped the Centauri's Achilles' Heel. He hoped he did not just murder hundreds of Centauri lives. "Life support?"
"Still functioning." Spock never liked battles. War was against the principles of Surak, but he recognized the logic of preserving your life in war. Whenever a battle was over, Spock did not celebrate the enemy's defeat. Instead, he was grateful that he and his friends were still alive at the end of the battle. It was regrettable that the Centauri had attacked and were so brutally cut down. "Jim, they are refusing our offers to help."
Kirk shook his head grimly. Regrettable, but it was their choice. "Mr. Redpath, move us closer to the alien transport. When we are close enough, begin transport of the survivors to the Enterprise." "It's a plague."
Kirk raised his eyebrows. "Please don't be melodramatic."
In his white medical smock, Dr. McCoy harrumphed. "I'm a professional doctor, Jim. It is a plague. Or to be more accurate, a pandemic. As far as I could find out from these people, it is 100% fatal and 100% contagious." Kirk widened his eyes in alarm. Leonard McCoy raised his hands to placate the Captain. "Don't worry, Jim. Diseases cannot cross species, except when their physiologies are similar enough. I doubt anyone on the ship have anything similar to these Markab." McCoy glanced at Spock to gauge his reaction as well.
Kirk looked down at one of the Markabs lying on a biobed. The Markab female (if this was a female, judging by the contours of her body hidden by brown and dark orange robes) had smooth skin where the nose should be. On the back of her head, her skin cracked almost like sun-dried mud. Kirk looked at the other Markabs crowding Sickbay. It seemed to be a normal thing for the Markab race.
"Do we have any record on the Markabs, Bones?" McCoy shook his head. "If you mean about their biological makeup, no, Jim. But we do have records of the Markabs as a civilization. Seems the Vegan Tyranny destroyed their civilization in the days before the Federation. Here, the Centauri conquered Vega before the Vegans could threaten Markab. They're extinct in our universe. Hell, they will soon become extinct in this universe!"
Spock said, "Surely not. If this is indeed a pandemic and the Markabs are aware of it, measures would be taken against it."
McCoy nearly bristled. He was upset. No, he was VERY mad! He took a deep breath, reminding himself that it was unprofessional to take his anger out at Spock. "That's just the problem. The Markabs are aware of the problem, but they won't admit to it. My God, they've politicized and stigmatized the disease! These Markabs are extremely careful about their morality. Seems if they contract the disease they're seen as immoral sinners. Of course, the sick person wouldn't admit to having contracted Drafa--that's the Markab name for the disease--and walk around, spreading the disease to others in the streets! Irresponsible! The irresponsible stupidity of it!! Even their own government refuses to take any measure and forbids any research into the Drafa Plague and any discussion of it with non-Markabs! If it's dying for sins they're afraid of, PRIDE should be a sin to be afraid of!" He growled the last statement. McCoy was nearly trembling with the horrified anger of such an incomprehensible concept. His knuckles were turning white as his hands curled into tight fists. Other conscious Markabs turned to stare at the increasingly loud doctor and nurses made themselves even more busy with their own works, studiously ignoring McCoy's rant.
"Bones." Kirk sympathetically put a hand on McCoy's arm, calming him. He felt sickened as well, but his friend, who took the Hippocratic Oath seriously, obviously felt a lot worse. Even Spock had shock painted on his usually stoic face.
McCoy shakily picked up a hypospray and drew strength from the feel of the small medical device. "I'm sorry, Jim. It really offends me. It's the biggest violation of the Hippocratic Oath I've ever seen, even if they don't have anything like the Oath. It's as if Dr. Mengele teamed up with Governor Kodos the Executioner to rule a dozen worlds. The only reason we got the distress signal was the Markab pilot panicked when some other Markabs tried to ram his door. If he hasn't sent the signal, that transport would be full of corpses without anyone the wiser!"
Kirk winced at the name of Kodos. Even though it had been decades since Tarsus IV, it still left scars in him. Only Anton Karidian, or Kodos as he really was years later, was able to allow Kirk to make peace with the memory of Tarsus IV. He squeezed McCoy's arm in sympathy, helping him return to professionalism. "Doctor, can you...cure this...plague?"
McCoy pulled himself up straight and stalked over to a micro-diagnostic table on which a Markab was lying. Emotions were still roiling in the doctor. A schematic of the Markab's body was displayed on the screen beside the table.
"Symptoms of Drafa include chronic dizziness, acute sore throat, swelling lymph and surface glands, and low blood pressure. Incubation is a day to a week. Drafa is a neurovirus. It targets the neural and synaptic chemicals and causes the brain to misfire. Death comes when the lungs or the heart stop receiving signals from the brain." McCoy pointed at a part of the diagnostic, understanding what Kirk could only see as an incomprehensible miasma of colors and shapes. "In the Markabs, neural signals are carried by chemicals produced by special cells. Very few races has evolved to have that kind of specialized cells. In the Markabs, it's the yellow cell." McCoy turned to face Kirk and Spock, and lightly brushed the arm of the Markab. He need to keep a personal connection to his patients. He believed it a mark of a truly good doctor, rather than just looking through machines. "Now, I can't cure the neurovirus, but I can delay it by synthesizing the yellow cells for the Markabs and stimulating production of natural yellow cells in them. Just long enough to effectively eradicate the neurovirus in the patients."
A Markab girl wavered on her feet, looking dizzy. Her mother anxiously grabbed her up in her arms and stared at McCoy with wide wet eyes for help.
McCoy's mouth set grimly. "Looks like we have work to do all night. Time to beat the Dark Angel of Drafa. Nurse! How's that blood synthesizer coming?" McCoy paused before bounding away into the work of saving the Markabs. "Oh, Jim. Remember what I said about their government taking no measures against the neurovirus? Their homeworld has over two billion people on it." He tiredly shrugged. "That's the number before the Drafa Plague began some time ago." He turned and dove into his latest work.
Kirk stared at Spock in horror. His mind conjured up images of silent cities with decaying bodies and fresh corpses littering the streets. The old, the young, the children lying dead everywhere while animals scavenged among them in the now harmless cities. 100% contagious and 100% fatal. He could see Spock thinking of the same thing as well, perhaps not so vividly.
Kirk ran to a communicator console and slammed the activation button. "Bridge! This is Captain Kirk. Change course to the Markab System. Maximum warp!" Babylon 5 could wait while a catastrophe of this proportions should be averted first. He hoped Enterprise would arrive in time.
Royal Admiralty, Imperial City, Centauri Prime
A hologram of sectors involved in the war hovered over a table surrounded by those who considered themselves to be important personages of the Republic. Grand Fleet Admiral Dromo stared out one of the tall windows overlooking the river flowing through the Imperial City. He could see the Imperial Palace sitting atop a hill across the city. The war was getting along rather successfully. The Narns were retreating on all fronts. Dromo did not need to be fully involved in the plans to assault the Narn core worlds in spite of the fact that the Centauri were receiving heavy casualties.
His mind was somewhere else. The climbing casualties was part of the problem.
That horrible rippling darkness. As far as Dromo knew, every single world in Known Space had experienced the darkness, a false night hiding suns and stars, snuffing out the light of the universe. For a few seconds, hours at most, the war had halted in its tracks. Lord Refa's sources and Ambassador Mollari's unknown associates had fallen silent since then. As a result, intelligence about the war had become scarce and more soldiers were dying because of that. If these sources do not reactivate themselves, the war may drag on needlessly.
"Lord Admiral Dromo, is this war not important enough for your attention?"
Dromo started, pulling his mind back into the Royal Admiralty Situation Room. He turned from the tall window to face the Minister of War in the Centauri Republic. Dromo straightened his formal dress uniform covered with elaborate medals and military embroideries, and rolled his eyes up to the huge chandelier lighting the room as if it was a god capable of granting mercy. "The Republic is foremost in my interest, naturally, Lord Vitari. How can you doubt me?"
Minister Vitari narrowed his eyes while successfully keeping suspicion out of his face. Dromo had insulted him without insulting him by using his noble title rather than the title of Minister. Dromo wasn't fooled. He knew the War Minister's opinion of House Dromo. The position of Grand Fleet Admiral has been a hereditary one for House Dromo in exchange for eternal loyal service to the Emperor and Republic.
Lord Tavastani raised a perfumed handkerchief to his nose, sniffingly calling for attention from the others in the chamber. The Royal Guardsman Elite was about to talk at length about the ongoing war when the doors to the chamber opened, admitting another man. Dromo recognized him to be Lord Admiral Jarissi, commander of the 13th Squadron, better known as the Sword of the Republic. What was such an important admiral doing back from the front?
"My Lords," Jarissi greeted before stepping forward to touch the controls for the holomap, causing it to focus at a location near Quadrant 27. "An alien ship has defeated a small squadron. Preliminary reports indicate the ship to be of Vree design, although there is some confusion about that."
Minister Vitari's eyebrows haughtily climbed up to his hairline. He appeared to fail to see the importance of such a report. "Confusion?"
"Ah...yes," Lord Admiral Jarissi answered. "There is something about Earthers concerning that ship."
Grand Fleet Admiral Dromo leaned forward. He saw what was possibly wrong in the report. "An alliance between the Vree and the Earthers? What were they doing in Centauri space?" Jarissi flushed momentarily in embarrassment. Although Dromo did not say it, criticism was implied. "Perhaps. They were...rescuing a Markab transport from a quarantine action."
Dromo stroked his Baton of Admiralty on the table's edge, considering. Humans do have a tendency to help where they were not needed. "Mmmm. I would not have expected the Earthers to be this clever. Attacking Royal Navy ships without breaking the peace between Centauri and Earth. How...unusually Centauri of them."
Lord Tavastani could see that Jarissi wasn't finished. He gestured for the Lord Admiral to continue.
"Lords...there is more." Jarissi was getting a little nervous, fidgeting, as eyes turned upon him. Minister Vitari contemptuously said, "Oh?" He would have preferred Jarissi to report everything at once. Unfortunately, or fortunately however you see it, information is a prime commodity in the Game of Houses.
"It seems...that the ship has energy shields quite similar to what the Abbai have."
Centauri bushy eyebrows rose in surprise. The Abbai has always refused to share or even sell their vaunted shield technology, something which even the Minbari did not have. To divulge the secrets of their shield technology was to violate their most fundamental beliefs in peace and harmony.
Minister Vitari put a finger to his chin while looking at the silent Minister of Intelligence. "Oh really? Perhaps there is some among the League worlds now. I'm sure the League governments and Earth would deny any knowledge of this. They may be secretly preparing for something against the Republic." He gave a meaningful look at Dromo. For all the undeserved hereditary position he had, Dromo wasn't a fool.
Grand Fleet Admiral Dromo picked up his baton, standing straight. He now knew what to do. "Step up the assault on the Narn worlds. We may need to activate some of Lord Refa's plans for the League. We cannot attack openly, but this ship of Vree design gives us a pretext. They must learn the lesson that the Corillians learned earlier in the war." The Corillians had thought to take advantage of the Narn invasion of the Republic, but their homeworld was now a conquered world of the Centauri Republic. "Order the fleet admirals and captains to prepare for an assault on one of the Vree worlds. Borrow ships from the Defense Fleet, if you have to."
War Minister Vitari dipped his head in respectful agreement, however thin the respect was. "Which world, Grand Fleet Admiral?"
Dromo pondered. The Vree had many powerful ships. He would prefer not opening a second front in the war, but a preemptive strike may keep this front from getting too dangerous and arduous for the Republic. Occupation may not be necessary until after the Narns are dealt with. Just a strike at their main military capability, shipyards for example. Perhaps they should distract the Vree from the real target, like destroying their outpost at Gliese 86. He could take care of that by himself. That would help open up the way to the Narn homeworld, thereby garner more honor for House Dromo. Yes, that's it.
"Photikar."