“Diplomats are only useful in fair weather. As soon as it rains they drown in every drop.”
Charles de Gaulle.
Byr closed his eyes gratefully and drew in a long lungful of the freezing mountain air, savoring the chill – burn on his trachea and welcoming the nascent formation of tiny, glittering ice – crystals that formed in the moistness at the corners of his mouth.
The cold was purity. The cold was balance and as an Andorian the ritual of exposure to the sub-zero elements was akin to a religious experience.
As the Starfleet Captain sat in full uniform, cross-legged on the escarpment of slate – grey scree that protruded like a broken bone from the blinding white snow that mantled the summit, he lamented that the experience (rendered as perfectly as it was by the magic of the holodeck) was only transient and knowledge of that impermanence went someway to ruining the experience and robbing the moment of some mote of immersive authenticity.
His prehensile antennae weaved their own complicated dance from beneath his thick thatch of bone – white hair, signaling his own inner chagrin, as he opened his pale cobalt eyes in resignation.
High above, the shadowing peak of Mount Khr’Sheikas loomed into the howling night sky, as eddies of powdered snow blew from the top surface like diamond dust, scouring at his neck. Byr Th’zhorir sighed gently, almost the entire night sky was dominated by the leviathan bulk of the immense blue-green Gas Giant that the moon of Andor orbited. Normally a familiar and satisfying site to any Andorian, today the sight just proved to make him homesick and a little melancholy.
At the end of the day wallowing in the familiar, no matter how well intentioned, was symptomatic of Byr’s desire to distract himself from the dispiriting progress that the peace conference that he was assigned to arbitrate, was proceeding in.
All parties were at an impasse.
Central to this was the inexplicable refusal of the Children of Tama to relinquish their illogical claim to sovereignty over the Vaadwaur Underspace portal.
Byr breathed out, his breath extenuating from his lungs ostensibly as a stream of gas, the carbon dioxide gradually assuming a semi – solid state as the impossibly sub-zero temperatures transformed it to microscopic ice crystals.
Eventually his breath fell impotently to crater the powdery snow before him and Byr could not help to see some unfortunate symmetry in the spectacle. His own words and diplomatic entreaties had thus far fell leaden and impotent on the negotiating table.
Following a shaky start in the mid-23rd century, relations between the United Federation of Planets and the Children of Tama has progressed from allegorical loggerheads, developing in mutual and metaphorical leaps and bounds as both parties came to understand and appreciate their uniqueness and Starfleet has learned to decode the Tamarian’s unique communication style of metaphor and symbolism.
This fact was no – better illustrated by the creation of Joint Base Dathon. The venerable Jupiter – class station that the USS Vanguard currently held station outside, straddled the Federation/Tamarian border & served as both diplomatic-mission and exactly the kind of shared metaphor that their hosts adored. A place of mutual respect and understanding.
A place that was now annexed. The Children of Tama physically closing off access to their half of the station and doggedly setting a picket of their border with elements from the powerful forces of the Tamarian Navy.
All to protect an anomaly which heralded good for exactly no one, the Children of Tama especially.
The Tamarians were a difficult culture to understand, true, Byr allowed as he struggled to comprehend why the normally amicable allies had chosen this perplexing course of action? Their rich cultural heritage, themic conversational register and unique way of interacting with other species presented a formidable challenge to even the most accomplished diplomat.
Indeed, it was a style of communication that most seemed to provoke and enrage Ambassador Vor’Chakk, the representative from the Klingon Empire, the most.
Most days it was all that Byr could do to placate the fiery Klingon (apparently the most even – tempered example his people could muster) and explain that Arbiter Thoracal (and the entire Children of Tama by extension) were not offering some gnomically coded slight against him, his house or the Empire, that required an immediate show of force to satisfy his slighted honor.
Byr winced at the memory.
But generally, these societal foibles aside, the Children of Tama were generally held to be a logical and reasonable people (if not a little melodramatic a turns) and the venerable Starfleet Captain and Diplomatic could just not understand why they persisted with their claim to the anomaly, when the dangers it presented were so manifestly obvious.
True, despite the prospect of a possible return of Vaadwaur forces to wreak havoc on the peoples of the Alpha & Beta Quadrants, Byr could appreciate that having a direct conduit to the Delta Quadrant via the medium of Underspace might seem an attractive proposition in terms of trade access and the furtherance of exploration for the Tamarian’s, but he himself had experienced the horrors that constituted the Underspace network and knew that the Children of Tama had been impacted least of all by the Blackout and subsequent invasion, so they were probably being more than a little blithe as to its manifest dangers.
Which brought him to Gul Asin Vhulkir, the delegate from the Cardassian Union.
Byr had striven against the Cardassian’s for long enough in his storied career to know that Gul Vhulkir was not a member of the High Command as her credentials claimed. The woman had Obsidian Order written all over her, which led Byr to wonder what the endgame of the Depta Council really was at these proceedings?
Ostensibly the Cardassian’s represented the faction most committed to the forced closure of the Tamarian Conduit. Not only had they suffered probably the most damage at the hands of the Vaaduwar Supremacy during their short, but devastating incursion (with the Klingon Empire a close second, which explained why such strange bedfellows found themselves temporarily aligned around the negotiating table), but they also held proprietary – claim to the technology developed that had sealed the Underspace portals in the aftermath of the Blackout and would be understandably opposed to any nation – state that refused to allow them access to complete their works.
Galactic security & a façade of altruism aside, this technology had elevated the Union to the adults – table of galactic affairs and the Cardassian’s weren’t about to relinquish this cachet from their death – grip, now they had had a chance to finally see what’s on the menu.
This axis of mutual self interest was at least one sector of the table that Byr could comprehend. It didn’t make the Klingon’s any less volatile and, as Chairperson to the talks Byr constantly had to head off persistent attempts to escalate any perceived slight or setback into a full-blown shooting – war. The Cardassian’s were similarly predictable in their self – interest. They could be relied upon to stick to their demands to be allowed to collapse the anomaly, but Byr knew that they would try and draw the proceedings out to their utmost extension, to see if any advantage could be gleaned from the fracas.
The motivations of Ambassador T’Rynnik of the Romulan Free States were far more murky and Machiavellian and Byr found the man almost impenetrable as he has intractable. His peoples motivations for siding with the Children of Tama and supporting their claim to sovereignty to the Underspace gateway made no sense whatsoever. Even less so than their new Tamarian allies.
The wedge that this drove between the Federation and their partners in this sector was unmistakable. That the Free States would benefit from gaining the support of the powerful Tamarian fleet and having allied Tamarian space at their back as a buffer, made sense to Byr and fit the typical conniving approach that the former masters of the fallen Star Empire typically applied to diplomatic affairs. Sow the seed of dissent widely on any fertile soil and see what grows there.
Yet what was the advantage for the Children of Tama, apart from this temporary and tenuous alliance that they surely must see could not preserve beyond the current state of crises? Byr was sure that Ambassador T’Rynnik had some other offer both off and under the table, some cog in a wider machination that the Federation could not see and Byr severely doubted would be to their liking.
Which made the contrary position of the Romulan Republic, ostensibly allies to the United Federation of Planets, but here arrayed and styling themselves as a competing mediator and provider of a security reassurance force in a volume of space already teeming with powerful warships with captains whose nervous fingers were only inches from their trigger.
Chief Diplomat Silex was here because her adversaries of the Free States was here and the Republic could not afford to lose face by not being present at these talks and be seen to be letting their hated former countrymen gain any advantage over themselves.
Byr was sure that, if he was able to keep the wiley Silex in line, that he might actually be able to ensure that the ‘Romulan Republic Reassurance Force” of ships that, even now, stalked around his ship and Joint Base like warning angels , actually provided him some practical reassurance rather than the nervous stomach and sleepless nights their antagonistic antics had sown to date.
At least the Starfleet enforcement of the “No – Fly – Zone” blockage along the Federation/Tamarian border had held so far, the Valkyries of the USS Prophyrion providing a deterrent that was symbolic at best – but seemed to be preventing any one party around the table from taking matters into their own hands by invading Tamarian space and sparking a costly conflict.
Everyone apart from the Gorn, that is.
That a people so infamously insular, antagonistic, xenophobic and hitherto completely unknown for taking any active interest in the affairs of other races (beyond plundering them for their breeding – fleets) had chosen to send a delegate to represent them at these talks, was anathema to all concerned and to Byr especially.
Ever since he had arrived, for day after endless day, all Ambassador Thosk had done was sit at his allotted seat at the negotiating table and saying absolutely nothing. He did not acknowledge the presence of the other delegates. He did not acknowledge the Chair or enquire as to the agenda. He did not indicate or advocate a position for his people in relation to the crises. He did not speak. He did not move. Byr wasn’t even sure if he actually blinked.
Thosk sat, as immovable as a mountain, for each entire session and then rose at the close of proceedings at each day and made his way back to his waiting ship via shuttle, leaving no one the wiser to why he was there or what his presence was mean to achieve.
Byr had entreated Starfleet Intelligence for an assessment after the first such day, but the analysist and spooks were at a loss to explain this behaviour or come up with a feasible hypothesis as to what the Hegemonies obtuse strategy might be.
In frustration, he engaged a Betazoid member of the USS Vanguard’s crew to sit in session (ostensibly in the role of a stenographer), but the empath was able to glean absolutely nothing from the Gorn Ambassador’s mental or emotional state. She said it was akin to trying to read a wall.
The only other potential ally Byr had was the Starfleet Liaison assigned to Joint Base Dathon. He had hoped that Captain Hyland might at least have some insight to the impasse, seeing as she had served alongside the Tamarian’s for the past 6 months, but Byr found Samantha Hyland cold, distant and slightly imperious and was well upon his way to forming the distinct impression that the woman harbored a deep dislike of aliens in general and of him in particular, which was a strange quality for an officer assigned to duty with a Starfleet Diplomatic mission.
He concluded that she would be of little help and resolved to watch his back where Captain Hyland was concerned, there was something about the woman that quite unnerved him.
Lost in a maze of confounding and unhelpful thoughts that persisted in drawing him to dead – ends, Byr could not see a clear path through to resolving this complex web of issues and had quite lost track of time as he navigated these challenges, so he was surprised when the voice of Mack Burnett’s gruff Glasgow brogue cut clearly through the cold night air.
=^= “Aye, sorry tae bother ye, Captain. But th’ next plenary sesshin’s startin’ in 15 minutes.” =^= The USS Vanguard’s Operations Chief interjected politely via the comm, from the Bridge.
Captain Byr Th’zhorir sighed and replied evenly,
“Thank you Mack. I’m on my way.” He rose, his boots squeaking in the frozen snow as called out “Computer! End simulation! Portal!”
The frozen winds that perpetually assailed the peaks of Mount Khr’Sheikas froze entirely and instantly. The near-perfect illusion of his homeworld was effectively shattered with finality as the doorway to the Holodeck seemed to materialize on the side of the steep, canted slope.
Byr brushed the last of the snow from the pants of his dark uniform and straightened up, his expressive antenna signaling resigned resolve as the Andorian murmured to himself, not without some irony.
“Well, it’s once more unto the breach then….”
