“Stand up straight Lieutenant and straighten your uniform collar.” Lt Commander Vodrova snapped in her thick Slavic accent, mildly irritated that their guests were late.

Commander Allen had an almost obsessive compulsion with ensuring that the USS Sacramento operated exactly to schedule and Aleksandra winced inwardly at the thought of having to explain to her (relatively new) CO that the duty she had been assigned to be the root-cause of any delay.

If Samantha Hyland thought anything of the Executive Officer’s tirade, her smooth features betrayed no outward sign. Despite being turned out in a crisp uniform and standing so straight that an actual ramrod would be put to shame, Sam endeavored to draw her stance even straighter and made a show of adjusting an already perfectly aligned tunic collar.

“Aye aye Ma’am.” Sam nodded as Vodrova gave a curt ghost of a nod and turned once more to confer with the duty Transporter Chief (for what seemed to Sam the hundredth time in the last half hour) to garner an updated ETA on the first contingent of delegates from the Primarion Gerontocracy – the ruling B’Queth.

Sam hazarded a brief glance down at the datapad silently scrolling in her own hands, distracted but checking once more the particulars of today’s incoming passenger manifest and cast her mind back to the Senior Officer’s briefing earlier that day – acutely aware that, for these particular set of incoming matter-exchange transports, timing was everything.

USS Sacramento

Main Briefing Room

Stardate: 2401.6.05

11:06 Hrs. (Station Time)

Commander Nathan Allen placed his hands on the table.

They were strong hands, assured by countless hours of crabbing and gripping the unforgiving mountain rock that Nate so loved to scale in his off – duty hours.

They were the hands at the tiller of this, his first real solo command (although Ensign O’Mara’s capable hands were more often than not at the actual helm) and the Captain of the USS Sacramento noted how all of the senior officers, his new Communications Chief included, followed those hands down as they rested on the table, as if waiting for them to signal the next revelation.

“So….” Nate paused, waiting for the attention of his senior officers to gravitate back to his care worn face. “In summation, the mission that Command has seen fit to assign us comprises of three parts.” Commander Allen always liked to round off the briefing with a summary and then let his officer’s give any feedback they thought necessary. It was a command – style he had adopted on his previous tour during his brief time as XO of the USS Saroga, and Nate Allen was not a man to ‘fix a wheel if it wasn’t broken’.

He raised a hand from the table and isolated a single digit.

“Our primary mission is to return the delegates of the Primarion Gerontocracy & their appellants, from the recent diplomatic summit, back to their home – system.” He paused, “I’m sure that all of you have read the briefing on the Gerontocracy extensively,” Nate stressed that last word in case anyone had missed that directive, “But I understand that the conference did not conclude well so it’s probably prudent to gain a more learned insight into our guests on this voyage. Lieutenant Duval? If you will please?”

Nate indicated to the Sac’s Chief Science Officer and those seated swiveled their chairs (where required) to receive the briefing from Lt (Jg) Cerine Duval.

“Oui – c’est ainsi” Cerine nodded, slipping into her native French for a moment and keyed the holo-emitter in the center of the table. A miniature, glittering astrolabe sprung into being and the slow balletic sweep of planetary perigee and apogee began to animate.

“The Primarion Gerontocracy are the ruling governmental structure prevalent in the Primar – Majoris system.” Cerine intoned in that, distinctly gallic, languid way of hers. “First Contact with the Gerontocracy occurred in 2984 and since then the Federation has been engaged in the establishment of formal relations with the Gerontocracy, which is divided into two distinctly separate races, that nevertheless share a near-unique symbiosis through a shared genetical heritage, that has actively shaped their history and development.”

Cerine gestured to the handsome African man sat to her left, “Doctor Eboneke can give you a brief breakdown of the implication of Primarion physiology to this evolution, far better than I.” Cerine smiled demurely, ceding the floor to the CMO.

Lt Abaywe Eboneke nodded in mute thanks and keyed the Holo-emitter to display an anatomical representation of two sets of similar – looking alien beings, a single figure and a pair – arrayed in the time-honored configuration first adopted by Michealangelo.

“Thank you Cerine.” Abay returned in his smooth, sonorous voice. “As my colleague has correctly stated, the Primarion race is what is sometimes referred to by lay-persons as a ‘Binary Race.’ Whilst both the B’Queth and the Va’Saal undoubtably have many superficial similarities in physiognomy, skin pigmentation & so on and can undeniably trace their base DNA sequences back to a common morphology, there are striking dichotomies between the two races, that are key to understanding their development both physically, historically, and politically.”

Dr Eboneke paused, to make sure all at the table were still with him and satisfied, continued.

The single figure on the (relative) left of the holo enlarged, whilst the right-hand pair diminished, and Abay continued.

“It is first interesting to note that neither of the two sentient races actually evolved naturally within the Primar – Majoris system.”

“The most popular school of thought postulated that both races were introduced to the system by a benevolent race Primarion records obliquely refer to as ‘The Providers’.” Duval interjected, for context’s sake.

“Probably one of the Ancient involved species that have now Sublimed from what we understand as the prime material plane of the Galaxy to do gods-only-know-what in wherever it is those cryptic ancients tend to opt for at a sufficiently advanced juncture of their evolution.” The French woman shrugged dismissively, “We come across this from time to time. The Gods quit the Galaxy and leave behind their bewildered playthings. C’est comme ça.” Cerine made a vague What can you do?” gesture.

“Just so.” Dr Eboneke smiled and resumed. “The Primarion are unique in that they have three complementary gender – types. The B’Queth are the dominant asexual or ‘Apex’ entity of the two races – enjoying a lifespan of some 150 years by conservative estimates.”

Abay keyed the Holo again and the former figure diminished as a similar looking, but different hued pair of alien specimens came to the fore.

“The Va’Saal are nearly identical to the B’Queth in every way apart from one key distinction – their lifespan is much, much shorter – the longest lived Va’Saal on record living to an equivalent age of only 6 years.”

This last fact piqued the interest of many faces around the table, but Dr Eboneke pressed on.

“This imbalance alone could explain the fact that the B’Queth have evolved to rule over the Va’Saal – effectively as a subjugated lower-class.” Abay explained “However it is their reproductive relationship that has evolved to cement this hegemony. The Va’Saal have the normal male and female reproductive organs and relationship – with the female Va’Saal bearing the fetus to term after insemination by a Va’Saal male.”

The holo pivoted to bring both sets of figures back in equal alignment within the data representation.

“But the B’Queth themselves ovulate, but can can carry no young and have evolved to be able to impregnate the Va’Saal female with their own self-inseminated ovum – effectively producing another Apex child by the surrogate Va’Saal mother.”

This did set the table amurmer and Dr Eboneke’s husband Jan (the Chief Security Officer) protested.

“But surely that’s tantamount to sexual – slavery!” the young South – African remonstrated with a frown.

“Now Ensign,” Cerine cautioned “we are not here to pass judgement on the morality implied by the genetical development of a sentient species, nor can we draw immediate correlation between their sociologic development based upon their evolutionary attributes alone.” The scientist warned.

Jan De-Vries, the urge to protect those unable to do so themselves so core to his makeup, said nothing but nodded assent. His husband smiled warmly at him and gently squeezed Jan’s hand under the table to reassure him.

“Indeed, whilst the relationship between the B’Queth and the Va’Saal may seem injudicious to us.” Cerine spread her hands wide “It is a relationship that has developed by assent by both parties for millennia, well, until First Contact that is. Both races maintain that the balance of primacy was handed to the B’Queth by the Providers before they sublimed and until the Federation happened along – the status quo was unquestioned by either side.”

She looked pointedly at Ensign Jan De-Vries “The Prime Directive is very clear in terms of our mandate not to pre-judge or interfere with the societal development of any sentient, warp capable race – no matter how at odds their value systems may be from our own.”

It was at this juncture that Commander Allen nodded to Sam who, at this stage, was quite convinced that the CO had forgotten that she was there – so entranced was she by the relative implications of the briefing.

“Lieutenant Hyland?” Nate smiled as Sam sat a little straighter in her seat.

“Sir?” Sam smiled uncertainly.

“Firstly, welcome aboard and to your first briefing.” Commander Allen nodded to those assembled. “I can assure you that our meetings are seldom ever this enlivening – so you have joined us at an opportune time.”

“Aye sir” Samantha agreed, wondering what the CO was leading up to.

“I see from your Service – jacket that you have spent the last 5 years in Command Liaison on ‘72?” Nate came to his point “Can you shed any light on the nature and outcome of the diplomatic efforts relating to our imminent guests that may help us? Ballpark will do if you have nothing specific? Best swing if you don’t have that.” The CO nodded.

Keenly aware that the focus of attention in the briefing room had now squarely turned to shine on her, Sam cleared her throat and fervently hoped she wouldn’t make a jackass of herself.

As it was, the Skipper’s allusion to 20th Century sporting vernacular had Sam a little flustered, but Ensign De-Vries (a sports obsessive) caught her eye, mouthed “Baseball” and winked reassuringly at her.

“Well Commander,” Sam began uncertainly “I did have a lot of interaction with the Diplomatic Corps during my tour and what I am certain of is that the recent diplomatic effort centers around a schism within Primarion society, or the Primacy as it is also known – one that the B’Queth marginally hold the Federation responsible for instigating by merit of First Contact.”

This earned a raised eyebrow from Commander Allen. “Interesting Lieutenant, go on?”

“Well sir,” Sam suddenly wished that she was lightyears away – anywhere other than being on the spot now at least “The B’Queth rule via the faction known as the Gerontocracy – using the advantage of their cumulative age & comparatively longer lives as the base of influence over the Va’Saal. The Va’Saal have little choice but to act as the servile class and broodmares to the B’Queth. Many still continue to do so.”

Sam stole a glance at Cerine to see if the scientist thought that Sam was really screwing this up. Her roommate nodded her assent with a cavalier incline of her head. Sam was relieved.

“Most, but not all?” Commander Allen prompted.

Gaining a small measure of confidence Sam nodded briskly. “No Sir not all. Since the Federation made First Contact, the Va’Saal have had a protracted opportunity to inwardly digest the apparent social freedoms enjoyed as an unalienable right by other species in the Federation.”

“And now they want in?” Nate smiled. He wasn’t averse to putting a new junior officer through her paces and see how they rose to meet the challenge. His new Comms officer lacked confidence maybe, but once she hit her pace, she seemed capable. He could work with that clay.

Samantha smiled knowingly. “A separatist faction has arisen amongst the Va’Saal, that much is true Commander. They call themselves the Primarion Cessation and whilst they have no political mandate – the very fact that the subjugate race of the Gerontocracy could even consider ceding, let alone demanding to be considered for temporary status as a “Protected Client Species” by the UFP, has sent shockwaves reverberating through the B’Queth.”

Nate set both hands back down on the surface of the table once more and nodded to Dr Eboneke to turn the holoprojector off. As the images faded, gauzily, back to nothingness and the lights slowly rose from dimmed, the Commander sighed.

“No, I can’t see the UFP agreeing to that demand, no matter how plaintive its intent. Thank you everyone for your insight.” Commander Allen took on a more serious air. “It seems we are about to ship out with a compliment of complications.” He turned to the Executive Officer.

“Aleksa, I want you to head up the welcome – wagon with our friends from Primarion.” Nate commanded.

“Da Captain.” Lt Commander Vodrova nodded.

“From the sounds of things, you’re going to have your work cut out for you just ensuring that you keep them apart long enough for us to deliver them home all in one piece.” Commander Allen half-joked and nodded to Samantha.

“Sam here will accompany you and provide any support you may need – she seems to have the inside leg on what’s eating at them both. Agreed?” Nate raised an eyebrow. This was an order, but if the XO had any objections – he wanted all of his senior officers to hear it. Nate Allen did not do closed doors.

“Agreed Captain.” Vodrova replied carefully and afforded Sam a brief glance and small, curt nod.

“Good!” Nate clapped his hands down on the desk again.

“Ensign De-Vries, you’ll provide overwatch on both the Gerontocracy and the Cessation delegates, if anyone gets out of hand – slap that hand, but gently. Inform the XO asap if the issue looks to be getting out of control and let’s try to avoid the situation developing into a full-blown diplomatic incident. That is one headache I do-not-need. Are we clear Ensign?”

“Crystal Captain.” Jan nodded seriously.

“Which leaves us our Scientists and their gear. The schedule says that they are our first stop when we reach our destination. The archaeological team and their field equipment are to be transported down to the ruins on the surface of Primar – Majoris#7 when we make system. Shuttlecraft to be tasked as sufficient to make the transfer as expedient as practicable. Mr. Sorvak – that’s your ball.”

For the first time in the entire meeting, the near-cadaverous Vulcan Chief Operations Officer stirred and stated simply. “The logistical outlay, timeline, resourcing, flight plans and efficiency projections are already appended to my report Captain.” Sorvak intoned somberly, as if it could be any other way.

Nate grinned despite himself. Sorvak was the only officer that had served aboard the USS Sacramento for almost the entirety of the ship’s lifespan and all of her commanding officers. The Vulcan was as almost as much part of the ships systems as he was its crew.

“Wouldn’t expect any less, thank you Lieutenant.” Nate smiled and turned his gaze to Cerine Duval.

“Cerine – you’ll play host to the Science team. They’re mostly Starfleet, so they shouldn’t hold you up. Get them anything they need, then get them on their way.”

“Ce sera comme vous le dites Capitaine.” Duvall purred.

“Taking that one as a yes.” The Commander winked good-naturedly.

“Lastly, Lieutenant Ryu?”

The Chief Engineer sat bolt upright in his seat as if a charge had been passed through him. Jai-Hui was of a famously nervous disposition, but Nate knew him as one of the more talented Engineers he had ever served with and was prepared to cut the young Korean a break.

“Predicably, you get to play with the bells and whistles of the Sub-space array currently jamming up my cargo bays and whip them into some semblance of deployability once we make orbit around the Primarion Homeworld.”

“Primarion Prime.” Lieutenant Sorvak corrected sagely.

Nate paused and turned to the Vulcan. “Really?!” he frowned.

“Indeed.” The Vulcan shrugged & deadpanned back.

“Minus several million for originality I guess.” The Commander rolled his eyes & shrugged and completed his order.

“Jai – I don’t need to impress upon you how important that it is to the Federation diplomatic effort that we assist the Primarion people in setting up this comms network? Work with Sorak and req whoever you need, whenever you need them. I’ll even roll up my sleeves and get stuck in if needs be. You hear me?”

“Aye Captain.” The slim engineer beamed, being handed a difficult engineering problem was music to his ears. Hand him an impossible one and Lieutenant Ryu Jai-Hui might just marry you.

The Captain of the USS Sacramento sat back in his chair and ran his fingers through the greying hair on his temples.

“Okay people. You know the schedule. Get to it and make it happen.” Commander Nathan Allen prompted his crew. “Any issues – take them to the XO, who will bring them to me. Dismissed!”

As the senior officers departed the briefing room, Nate called out to Lt Sorvak. “Lt Sorvak, please locate the Chief of the Boat and let Hojas know what she needs to know to get the NCOs and other ranks up to speed if you will.”

Sorvak nodded briefly – he was already on his way to do so.

Finally, alone, Nate sat back and rubbed his face, returning his attention to his datapad and its never-ending demands on his time.

“Primarion Prime…. Jesus!” He shook his head, laughed to himself and then continued to work.

USS Sacramento

Transporter Room #2

Stardate: 2401.6.05

18:15 Hrs. (Station Time)

“Dockside reports that it’s the delegation from the Gerontocracy Commander.” The duty Transporter Chief apologized to a glowering Lt Commander Aleksandra Vodrova. “The Cessation delegates were slated for the first round of transports aboard, apparently the B’Queth have taken great and voluble offence to his and are demanding that they be beamed aboard first. Something about a ‘great dishonor’, it could have been ‘great offence’ – not really sure Ma’am – things sounded quite heated down there over the comm.”

“Боги моих предков дают мне силы!!” Aleksandra swore vehemently under her breath. “Well then Chief, move them to the front of the line and then…” She began to frame a compromise.

“Begging the Commander’s pardon.” The Transporter Chief winced. “That option was put forward by the departures operator – which sent the Cessation delegates into a similar tizzy.”

“Of course, it did.” Vodrova replied icily. “Tell me Chief, is the Science team standing by and ready for transport?”

“Aye Ma’am, that they are.” The Chief smiled with relief – the XO would sort this mess out and he could go off duty soon for a sorely – needed drink.

“Then bump them up and beam them aboard. That should get the diplomats wondering who will be last.” She nodded.

“Making it so Commander.” The Chief nodded gratefully and signaled for the Transport to begin.

Lt Commander Vodrova nodded to the Chief Science Officer, who had been lounging casually in the background – talking with a subordinate. “Lieutenant Duval, make ready, you guests are about to join us.”

Vodrova turned to Samantha and shrugged “Your guests have exactly 4 minutes to decide which is going to join us. After that, then I’m ordering helm to lay-in a course out of spacedock.” Aleksandra’s smile was winter in Siberia.

The transporter room began to be bathed in a swirling expression of complex energies as the forms of the Federation Science Team began to arrive aboard on the first leg to explore the ruins on Primar – Majoris#7.

Sam was about to respond to her XO, when a familiar voice stopped her dead.

“Sammie? Is that you?”

Lieutenant Samantha Hyland turned, stunned, and disbelieving to gawp at the newly re-incorporated figure that stepped down into Transporter room #2.

“Daddy?”

The datapad she had been holding clattered from her numb fingers to hit and bounce along the floor.