The senior staff conference room was located on deck 1 of the USS Eternity and featured a nice spaceport window and a large screen on which to display information. In the center was a long, dark, rectangular table that contained six chairs on either side, and one at the head of the table, farthest from the entrance. The captain sat down with a slight tug at the neckline of his command tunic and surveyed the officers gathered. From closest to Jameston to farthest away sat Britney Clayden, Adam McKelley and Kiva. On the other side of the table, to the commanding officer’s left, sat Jennifer Smyth, Dr. Bashir and William Yang. Each of the officers were given small padds.
After briefing them on the situation, Jameston asked for comments. Bashir went first. “I’m not entirely convinced that having the Seventh Fleet in their backyard is going to lend credibility to our peace efforts in the eyes of the Romulans,” he confessed with concern.
“But if they are convinced that we attacked them,” Yang interjected, “and want to do something about it, they’ll think twice before attacking us.” Jameston pointed at him. “Right you are on Starfleet’s thinking, Will.”
“Captain,” Commander Smyth spoke up. “I believe it is of the utmost importance that we focus on this being a humanitarian mission inasmuch as this is a diplomatic mission. What I mean by that is simply that the Romulans already expect us to attempt to clear our name, so we’re going to be met with skepticism at best. Why don’t we try and meet them at Tulannis, or wherever the survivors are located, and deliver to them adequate medical aid? To the Romulan dignitaries we meet, focus on their tragic loss and how sorry we are to hear about it. If the Romulans note sincere sympathy they may be more likely to accept any evidential claims we may uncover,” she finished. Jameston considered her remarks for a moment, and understood why she was assigned to be his first officer.
Kiva grunted. “Something to add, Lieutenant?” Jameston asked.
“Yes,” he began. “I don’t tend to be a very trusting person. Someone has to earn that trust, even with my fellow officers.” The implication was not lost on anyone at the table. “My point is, although I believe in helping others, and although I certainly don’t believe in mass homicide, I’d hate to come in with our guard down only to regret not raising shields later.”
Jameston nodded. “Well said and advice noted, all of you. If there’s no further business, I suggest we commence our mission, and we all need to get plenty of rest before we arrive. Dismissed.” As the senior staff rose to depart, Jameston spoke once more, from his chair at the head of the table. “Lieutenant Commander Clayden, Commander Smyth: please remain behind for a moment,” he requested of the two women.
After everyone had left, he motioned to Clayden to come next to him and for Smyth, who was already near the exit, to remain stationary there. “I need to know something from you, Ms. Clayden,” he began. She interrupted him. “Sir, I know what you’re going to ask, but let me assure you that I can and will perform my duty to the best of my already-proven ability, and no one–human, Romulan, or otherwise–is going to rob me of that,” she rattled.
Still sitting, Jameston regarded her for a moment before resuming. “Look, if I thought you couldn’t do your job, I’d have you confined to quarters. But the truth of the matter is, I simply asked you to stay behind so I could let you know that I have confidence in you. I believe that going into this thing we both need to know that we’re on the same page, and that we can trust each other,” he said, staring at her.
She straightened and moved her gaze to the floor before returning his look. “Thank you sir,” she stated simply but gratefully. With a nod, she turned and walked out of the conference room. Smyth walked slowly toward the captain after Clayden had departed.
“What is your opinion of this crew, Commander?” Jameston began. The question seemed to be interesting, and he was doubtless interested in her answer, she figured.
“I believe them to be...competent. Quirky, to be sure, but competent,” Smyth replied. He considered this as he posed his next venture.
“What do you expect out of this posting and out of me?”
This question she was not exactly prepared for. Generally, commanding officers and first officers discussed these kinds of things before launch, if at all. She had assumed that Jameston simply was not going to discuss it with her and that was that. “I expect to learn a great deal here. Learn about myself, learn about my shipmates. Learn their capabilities and limits, and learn mine. Learn how to stretch my own abilities and how to motivate and prod others under my command to do the same. What I expect from you is different. I don’t expect to learn about you, to cater to your whims or even just to carry out your orders. I expect you to be the leader that guides me into these situations. I expect you to be a mentor. But I also expect you to back off when I need my own thoughts, or actions. I expect you to take me and my suggestions seriously. Fair enough?” she answered.
“For now, if that’s all you can say,” Jameston said with a grin. “I suppose you’re dismissed Commander.”
As she left, Smyth turned toward him. “Oh and sir...you can call me Jen...” Seeing Jameston smile and not wanting to deliver the wrong impression, she hastily added, “or Commander, or Smyth, or Commander Jen Smyth, or whatever...” she trailed off as she departed down the corridor. Jameston threw back his head and laughed.
***
The bridge was quiet. The emotional tempest, however, spoke volumes as Jameston slid unceremoniously into the command chair. Each officer was working under normal duty conditions, as far as actual requirements dictated. That being the case, he still understood why the level of tension and stress was as high as it was. The burden of appeasing the Romulans would not be an easy one for the crew of the Eternity to bear.
Kiva poked and prodded at his console, seeming to concentrate on it with all of his focused energy. His eyes moved forward and up the console but never quite off of it as he spoke. “Captain, we’re now entering the former Neutral Zone,” he announced. Jameston took this in stride, nodding even though no one was looking.
Again, without turning his head, Jameston spoke. “Very well, Lieutenant. Mr. Yang, do we have a sign of an escort of any kind?” The security officer shook his head, a bead of sweat forming on his brow.
“None that I can tell, sir.”
That answer made Jameston nervous, if only slightly. Cruising casually through Romulan space was not something that one did lightly, especially if one was from the Federation. He let his thoughts wander off in that direction when the thick atmosphere of anxiety spiked to a sudden peak. Kiva swore. Before Jameston could even inquire of his helm officer the lapse in protocol, the viewer displayed for him the current scenario.
Three Warbirds, clad mainly in deep, emerald green and trimmed with ominous-looking dark green, shimmered in response to the normal decloaking pattern. With one taking the lead and the other two flanking either side, blocking the Eternity, it was clear why Kiva had slipped. The Eternity came to an all-stop. Without asking, Jameston recognized the Warbirds as being in an all-too-familiar formation. “It’s a common attack pattern,” he muttered. “They used it side-by-side with us in the War.”
Smyth leapt to her feet, clearly alarmed. “Mr. Yang, go to yellow alert and raise shields, McKelley–“
“Belay those orders.” Smyth was incredulous. She turned and beheld a semi-calm Jameston stroking his chin, still seated. Attempting to remain respectful, Smyth walked back to her chair but did not sit, her expression one of askance. Jameston observed this out of the corner of his eye but his gaze did not leave the viewscreen. “Notice I said, Commander, that it is a common attack pattern for the Romulans, one they had used with the Federation starting over a decade ago. If their true purpose and intent was to launch a surprise assault on the Eternity, do you think they would use such outdated and easily recognizable means?” Jameston reasoned. Smyth shook her head, then sat down, thinking.
“It’s a precautionary measure. They’re just letting us know that if we were to try anything, we’d better think again,” she deduced aloud. Jameston cocked his head at her in a slight nod, something that Smyth decided was one of respect.
“Sir,” Yang spoke up from his post behind the command chair, “the lead ship is hailing us.”
Jameston was definitely interested in what the Romulan commander had to say. “Put him on screen, Mr. Yang,” he ordered. After a brief moment of continuing to stare at the three daunting Warbirds, the screen suddenly flashed to the image of a stern, middle-aged Romulan man.
“This is Commander Senav, of the Romulan Empire; please identify yourselves and your purposes,” he stated flatly. Jameston took note that it seemed as though the commander already knew exactly who they were, where they were from and the intentions. Just a little game, it seems, he thought.
“Commander Senav,” Jameston began. “I am Captain Michael Jameston, commander of the USS Eternity. Our intentions are to work with you and your colleagues to express our deepest condolences to the citizens of your Empire, to provide medical aid, and to assist in an investigation to delve to the bottom of this issue,” he finished. Senav seemed to consider both what Jameston had said and Jameston himself before he formulated a reply.
“It was wise of you, Captain, not to raise your shields. Anything else, naturally, would have been perceived as an act of aggression,” Senav started. Jameston could appreciate the warning and even the tone of the statement.
“Naturally,” he echoed. The Romulans angular eyebrows seemed to furrow further as he spoke.
“I look forward to meeting with you in a later conference at 1800 hours. Senav out,” he said. Jameston simply nodded in respectful agreement as the viewer flipped back to the image of the trio of vessels that served as the Eternity’s escort.
***
The conference room was filled with polite conversation. The senior staff, including Britney Clayden, were assembled around the rectangular table, awaiting the start of the video conference with the gathered Romulan officers. Lieutenant McKelley leaned over to the captain as if to speak to him. “Sir, I have nothing against her, but do you think it wise to include Lieutenant Commander Clayden here in visual range of the Romulans?”
Jameston leaned back, indicating his attention. “I appreciate the concern, Lieutenant, but Ms. Clayden’s presence here might actually be helpful, for several reasons. First, her insight into the Romulan psyche will prove helpful. Secondly, Ms. Clayden could aid in the reconstruction of events that really transpired on Tulannis V. To leave her out of the loop in this meeting will do nothing to encourage her confidence, much less her ability to investigate. To cut off her information flow is entirely unnecessary and possibly detrimental to our mission,” Jameston answered.
As McKelley turned away to his seat, Jameston addressed the officers. “Let’s make one thing clear, people,” he began, “feel free to speak up at any time during this conference. Your input is both valued and taken seriously. So if you have something to add to the importance of the mission at hand, I suggest you do so. I will not be patronizing and reminding you of diplomatic necessities and conduct. However, just because we are on a diplomatic mission does not grant us immunity from any possibility of casualties of war.” Seeing the expressions on the faces of the crew at the mention of war, Jameston clarified.
“Yes, I realize that we are not at this time engaged with the Romulans in battle. But if we don’t find the truth, then it doesn’t matter how much diplomacy we use...they will want retribution. They will desire justice. And when that moment arrives, who will they look to for the justice and payment? It is our job to see to it that such a moment never comes.” Realizing the gravity of the mission, the crew’s thoughts internally and their expressions externally turned serious.
“If that is our duty, then the moment will not come,” Bashir vocalized, his assuring smile breaking any tension. Bashir is right, Jameston thought. This crew will perform their duties to the best of their abilities, and they will be successful.
“Well, now that it’s out of the way, let’s turn our attention to the viewscreen, shall we?” Jameston directed. Just at that precise moment, a transmission signal lit up next to his palm on the table. Jameston turned while at the same time pressing the button, illuminating the screen to reveal their Romulan counterparts. Six silver-clad, Romulan officers greeted them by way of simply existing on the screen whereas they had not before. “Commander Senav; a pleasure to see you,” Jameston initiated.
Senav started in, evidently choosing to ignore pleasantries for the time being. “Captain, these,–“ he gestured to his right with a long arm, “–are the other two Warbird commanders. To my left, we also have my subcommander and the other subcommanders present with us. Their purpose is to be witnesses of this meeting and to provide counsel,” Senav intoned.
“At least he’s honest,” Smyth managed to say under her breath. Jameston barely afforded her a glace before he spoke.
“Good to know. Gentlemen, these are my senior officers,” he said, his hand sweeping past each person as he introduced them. “Commander Jennifer Smyth, my first officer, Lieutenant Commander William Yang, my chief of security, Lieutenant Kiva, my helm officer, Dr. Julian Bashir, our resident medical officer, Lieutenant Adam McKelley, our chief of operations. Last, but not least is our chief engineer, Lieutenant Commander Britney Clayden,” he finished. The Romulan subcommanders and the two commanders showed no surprise at the final introduction, most probably because of the name, Jameston supposed. But it seemed as though Senav had shown a genuine interest in each of the seven officers that made up the assemblage, and when his gaze fell upon Clayden, it seemed difficult for him to reign in his surprise. Jameston opted not to mention it.
“They are present to counsel me as well, Commander Senav, as well as assist you and your investigative team in any way possible or deemed helpful.”
Senav picked up what appeared to be the Romulan version of a padd and began to recite. “Where shall I begin, Captain? Ten days ago, the peaceful and civilian settlement on Tulannis V was virtually obliterated by a previously-unknown force. Its small, orbital defenses were destroyed via long-range quantum torpedoes. Several Federation vessels of an unidentified class began a close proximity attack on the planet’s surface from the outer atmosphere. But this wasn’t just any random assault,” he continued, his anger mounting, “this was planned meticulously and moment-by-moment. As soon as they were in range, they began an immediate volley of weapons’ fire at the weapons’ silos and the planetary defense system, destroying any and all attempts to fight for their lives. With no military presence, the men, women and children were utterly without protection and thus hope for survival. After the spatial attack was over, several large shuttlecraft bearing the Federation insignia landed, depositing dozens, if not hundreds, of Starfleet foot soldiers, whose only goal was chaos and destruction. They proceeded to maliciously cut down and kill any and all who they could find. Survivors were only those who had been wounded but did not die or those who found refuge in the city’s rubble. Humans, Vulcans, Andorians...there were many races of the Federation involved in this massacre. So what will be helpful, Captain? What have we to investigate? The Senate is very concerned that the Federation is asserting itself too greatly here, trying to hard to show forth their might and power. The Senate has sent us to investigate you, Starfleet, not to continue an investigation on an already-closed matter,” he spat with something bordering on disgust.
Jameston didn’t bat an eye. “Very well then, Commander. We will assist you in providing aid to the survivors of Tulannis V. Are they still located there?” he questioned.
Senav did not look as though he would like to answer. “You will go where we instruct, do as we instruct, when we instruct, Captain,” he warned.
Bashir spoke up. “With all due respect, Commander Senav, perhaps if you believe Federation weapons destroyed the colony, then perhaps Federation medicine can help heal the survivors. That is something we cannot do without going to their aid. Guide us, help us, escort us, be in charge over us, but do not restrain us from this gesture of peace...for your people’s sake, if not for ours,” Bashir entreated him.
Senav evidently heard the compassion in Bashir’s voice and the reasoning behind it, for his features changed ever so slightly to reveal his own passion for his people. “If that is what must be done, for my people,” he added, “I will do it. Captain, you will proceed with us to Tulannis V beginning in one hour. The journey will take approximately five days. During that time I would like to discuss several things with you, in person.”
Although the others appeared startled and though he could feel Yang begin to protest what he was going to say, Jameston said it anyway. “Your ship or mine?”
Senav nodded in appreciation. “To show that I have a small bit of good faith in you, albeit not in Starfleet as a whole, and to relax your startled chief of security, we will meet on board your vessel. After all, anything that happens to me would be considered an act of war, so I have the utmost confidence in you and your crew,” he finished.
“Glad to hear it.”
***