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+ | A steady stream of ash fell from the sky like a gentle snow storm as the plumes of smoke billowed upwards. What had once been known as the city of lights was now an uncontrolled firestorm as far as the eye could see, interrupted only by the occasional stubborn ruins that refused to crumble. One of the most ancient cities on the face of the planet Earth, it had grown over the course of two millennia from a humble Gallic settlement into a modern metropolis that had stood as a beacon of civilization. | ||
+ | Throughout it's existence the city has been a survivor, withstanding a myriad of conflicts and conquests over the centuries. It had survived the black death, the deadliest pandemic in Earth history. It had struggled through conquests and occupations as well as repelled sieges and birthed a revolution. It had endured the Nazi occupation of World War II, the civil unrest of the early 21st century, and escaped the nuclear infernos of World War III. Finally, it had served proudly as the capital city and seat of the Federation government for two-hundred-and-twenty years. | ||
+ | |||
+ | But today in an instant, the city of Paris, France had been reduced to a smoldering lifeless wasteland. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The waters of the river Seine, vaporized by the inferno, no longer flowed through the heart of the city. Neither native Parisians nor tourists alike any longer walked and shopped along the Champs-Élysées. No one prayed within the pews of the thousand year old Gothic Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris. The modern fifteen-story office building that had been built upon the Place de la Concorde to house the office of the president and the council chambers would never again conduct the affairs of state. The Arc de Triomphe no longer stood to honor those whom had fought and died for their country. Never again would the iron lattice Tour Eiffel - once disdained by the public as an ' | ||
+ | |||
+ | It had been a balance of good fortune on the part of the politicians and of poor timing on those responsible for the attacks that had spared the overwhelming majority of the Federation' | ||
+ | |||
+ | It was now over twelve hours since the senior officers of the late Starship Republic had gathered together in the office of Rear Admiral Krockover at Starfleet Command, San Francisco. After the first few hours during which there had been a few hushed conversations, | ||
+ | |||
+ | Thus far, the crew of Republic were the 'lucky ones' whom like the politicians of Paris were such do more to fate and timing than anything else; the crews of each of the other hijacked starships had perished at the hands of their captors homicidal and suicidal madness. Already, the Republic herself had become a symbol of some hope amidst the despair. Her sacrifice in saving San Francisco from suffering the same fate as Paris had earned the vessel itself hero status in the eyes of the people. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The multitude of horrific images of destruction that paraded endlessly across the news feeds would forever be seared into their memories. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Prominent amongst them had been the mushroom capped tower of Earth' | ||
+ | |||
+ | As the hours ticked by, the mid-day light had faded first to twilight then finally onward into night as emergency responders continued to pour in. The entire first fleet had been recalled to duty in sector 001, and the Enterprise herself would be in orbit within seventy-two hours. Beyond the initial wave of Starfleet forces, civilian-lead aid vessels had begun pouring in from Vulcan, Andor, Tellar, Alpha Centauri and a dozen other worlds in proximity to the heart of the Federation. As the chaos abated and gave way to the cold hard reality and despair normal in the wake of such events, the message being sent by those responsible had become loud and clear: it was not the Federation being targeted, but the human race itself. Something reinforced by the ever-increasing casualty estimates which painted the dark truth that well over ninety-two percent of the fatalities were human. | ||
+ | |||
+ | However, the most oft-repeated question thus far asked by everyone from elected officials and Starfleet admirals to foreign ambassadors and average civilians remained unanswered. Who amongst the Federation' | ||
+ | |||
+ | As the governing bodies of the Alpha and Beta quadrants learned of the calamity that had befallen the Federation in the early morning hours, it became clear that none of the usual suspects were responsible. Most of the great powers of the quadrant had promptly issued statements in response to the attacks. The Klingons were appalled at the cowardice of the attacks, and had promptly sworn to stand by their Federation allies. The Romulans, always more calculating and reserved had expressed their condemnation of such methods and pledged humanitarian support. The Ferengi had offered a sizeable reward for information leading to the apprehension of those responsible. The Breen, the Cardassians, | ||
+ | |||
+ | By 0800 the next morning, nearly twenty-four hours since the attacks had occurred, Leon Cromwell was gently prodding everyone to eat some of the food Admiral Krockover had ordered delivered from the commissary, when coincidentally everyone lost their appetites as the last few shockwaves of information washed over them... | ||
+ | |||
+ | //" | ||
+ | |||
+ | No words were spoken between the crew of the late Starship Republic. Somehow, it felt as if not a word was spoken between anyone on the whole of the planet Earth in that moment. As the Bajoran reporter broke down some of the figures that amassed to such an incomprehensible figure, the totality of what had happened was driven home. | ||
+ | |||
+ | One of the colony worlds to be attacked - Benecia - had lost virtually their entire population to an unidentified biological weapon. One of the eldest Earth colonies, founded not long after the founding of the Federation, it had been home to forty-seven million people. The news concerning Benecia brought the days tragedy closer to home for than it already had been for Leon Cromwell, who found himself no longer able to block out the harsh realities of so many innocent lives being lost. Innocent children whom could have nothing to do with whatever had spurned the hatred of those responsible for the dark deeds of this day. As a doctor, you became accustomed to losing patients and learned to cope with such, hoping that you never became numb to such loss less you lose a part of what it meant to be human. Losing a patient that was a child was always even more difficult, for it meant the end of so much potential, so much life left yet to be experienced. How much potential, how much life yet to experience so much of what it meant to live, had been obliterated today? And for what? | ||
+ | |||
+ | Four other colonies - Deneva, New France, Vega and Norpin V - had fairly centralized populations. Each of these worlds had lost more than a third of their citizens. New France, the youngest of the three colonies, was less than a century old and had risen to a key strategic and trading world during the Cardassian border wars. Vega colony had pre-dated the Federation, and been a key frontier outpost in the early to mid 22nd century, it's population levels never quite peaking due to it's harsh terrain. Deneva had experienced planetary scale attack one-hundred-twenty years earlier when her people had been attacked by a species of neural parasites, but had escaped significant casualties do to the intervention of the original Starship Enterprise under her legendary crew or Kirk and Spock. Norpin V was a bit like pouring salt into the wound for many, especially for Starfleet brats, as it was a world that catered especially to those seeking a quiet retirement. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Luna colony, with a densely-packed population of fifty-six million dependent upon dozens of atmospheric domes, had suffered the greatest losses on a percentage basis, having lost nearly half of her citizens. The first extra-terrestrial body that mankind had ever set foot upon had always held a special place in the hearts and minds of humanity and the people of Earth. Her once ghostly and lifeless visage of craters had long ago been obscured by the reflections cast off her domes and cities, like twinkle of diamonds and jewels. Now though, craters once again were easily visible upon her rocky surface, only these were laced with the ruins of what had once been cities of man. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Iadara, Proxima, Kessik IV and Aldebaran were the least likely candidates to come under fire of them all. Though Proxima and Kessik IV were each near enough to the Klingon border to have been strategic during the Federation' | ||
+ | |||
+ | In comparison, the Martian colonies had been the most ' | ||
+ | |||
+ | In all, it was the single greatest loss of human life in a single day in the history of all mankind. Not even the opening salvos of ' | ||
+ | |||
+ | //" | ||
+ | |||
+ | The scene was something out of a holonovel, as a throng of reporters stood shoulder-to-shoulder jockeying for positions before a hastily established podium just outside a pair of blast-doors that provided access to EC2 chambers. The press conference was clearly impromptu and had been called for with only moments to spare. There were few reasons for such half-hazard measures to be taken in this day and age, and with the people' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Without notice, the thick blast-doors parted revealing first a pair of armed Starfleet Security officers wielding the latest variation of phaser rifle. It was a surprising visual and certainly a bit disconcerting to see that whatever or whomever was responsible for yesterday' | ||
+ | |||
+ | //" | ||
+ | |||
+ | Taking a moment, to both allow his statement to sink in as well as to compose himself a bit further, Admiral Paris continued. //"A little over ninety minutes ago, Starfleet Intelligence received an encoded communication which we have since authenticated to have in fact been made by the apparent architect of yesterday' | ||
+ | |||
+ | //"The individuals responsible for this horrendous attack are, it seems, just that; individuals. Sick, twisted, unethical and reprehensible individuals who claim no allegiance to any nation or empire. They are not a prior foe, such as the Borg or the Dominion. They are not a government with whom our relations are strained, such as the Breen or the Tholians. They are not a race with which we were once animus with yet have found a more positive way to co-exist alongside, such as the Romulans, the Cardassians, | ||
+ | |||
+ | //" | ||
+ | |||
+ | As the gaggle of reporters shouted questions after him and the other members of the Starfleet brass, only barely restrained by their professional decorum from charging after them, the feed switched to a pair of FNS anchors. The white-haired and bearded Efrosian Xal Ra-Museii and the clean-shaven elder human Jack Warner. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Well that just fuckin' | ||
+ | |||
+ | //" | ||
+ | |||
+ | //"I think Admiral Paris made it rather clear that, though the attacks were connected, he said specifically that they had clearly been in the planning stages for months or even years,"// | ||
+ | |||
+ | //"It does beg the question, though; if the Syndicate hadn't been toppled at this particular moment in time, would Starfleet Intelligence have have to the time or opportunities to be able to avert whatever those larger-scale attacks before they had been launched?"// | ||
+ | |||
+ | //"I think at this point, Jack, that the Terran expression ' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Nodding slightly in concession, Jack Warner finally gave some ground to the points his counterpart had made. //"I suppose your quite right, of course. Unprovoked surprise attacks do have a habit of being things that we could only truly fathom from hind-sight. At some stage or another, a deceptive tactic originates before which it's incomprehensible. The Trojan horse of ancient of ancient Greek myth, Pearl Harbor, the attacks of September 11th, Station Salem One, the Tomed Incident..."// | ||
+ | |||
+ | Feeling a bit more comfortable speaking through the prism of history through which the emotions of the day could be diffused, and pleased that he'd been able to get his compatriot away from the pundit-like speculations, | ||
+ | |||
+ | Narrowing his eyes less than a millimeter, everything about the veteran FNS anchor Jack Warner seemed to shift almost imperceptibly. His body language, the tone of his voice, his posture, even his state of mind. //" | ||
+ | |||
+ | //" | ||
+ | |||
+ | Jack Warner wouldn' | ||
+ | |||
+ | //" | ||
+ | |||
+ | //"Of course not!"// | ||
+ | |||
+ | //" | ||
+ | |||
+ | //"Nor could I,"// agreed Ra-Museii, uncomfortably unable to offer up much of anything but the verbal equivalent of a smile and nod in agreement with anything Jack Warner said at this particular moment, trapped as he was. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Turning away from Ra-Museii, Warner looked ahead directly at the recording apparatus and in essence, directly to the people of the Federation watching as he continued. //"For the events of yesterday were not a ' | ||
+ | |||
+ | |||
+ | ---- | ||
+ | |||
+ | |||
+ | //" | ||
+ | |||
+ | As the image froze and minimized into the top right-hand corner of the view screen, the focus of the information broadcast switched from what was clearly an earlier recorded segment to the current individual holding down the anchor chair. A Bajoran female with long hair draping down across the right side of her face smiled professionally as she spoke. //" | ||
+ | |||
+ | Switching gears, the professional smile faded from her features to be replaced by a more neutral expression as the young woman turned to face a different recording apparatus off to her right, which promptly became the main signal for the news network feed. //"At the top of the hour, I'm Rani Telinda reporting from FNS galactic headquarters in New York. Recapping our top stories, another round of civilian-organized protests occurred this morning at Starfleet facilities across the Federation. The protest group ' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Switching from the live feed of the Bajoran junior anchor to an archival video, a handsome brunette woman in her mid-40s standing amidst a crowd of sign and placard holding protestors began to speak. //"I know better than most people that sometimes, you must stand up for yourselves and your fellow people, and fight the good fight. I also know from my late husband, from my brother, from my mother, and from so many friends and comrades who died doing just that, that Starfleet' | ||
+ | |||
+ | With a snort of contempt and disgust, Vladimir Kostya slapped heavily at the control interface on the conference room table in front of him, deactivating the view screen and it's broadcast. He had seen the broadcast the day before already, had heard the same short-sighted and ignorant arguments of individuals like the traitor Rebecca Eddington made over and over again with increasing regularity over the past year and then some. As far as he was concerned, such matters were irrelevant and not worth his time or consideration. Something his inner circle of advisers all already knew, and something the leading members of the Neocratic Federalist party (whom had all but begged, pleaded and threatened their one-time long-shot candidate) were also keenly aware of. Irritated by even having to be here on this fine Parisian afternoon, Vladimir Kostya turned his focus to the man seated across from him at the far end of the conference table and informed him rather succinctly, " | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Cole, Mister President," | ||
+ | |||
+ | " | ||
+ | |||
+ | Convincingly feigning what had long ago been coined as a ' | ||
+ | |||
+ | President Kostya starred across the length of the conference room table at Marcus Cole for a long and healthy moment, his expression fairly inscrutable even to those who knew him best. For his part, Marcus Cole did not flinch beneath the gaze of one of the most powerful - if not the most powerful individual in the totality of the known universe. He simply continued to pleasantly look back at the President of the United Federation of Planets, his own expression neither one of challenge nor surrender. For that reason, and for the fatigue Vladimir Kostya felt at the realization that should he end this meeting at this stage, it would only ratchet the volume of whining and complaining up by several decibels, the leader of the free galaxy leaned back in his chair and said, " | ||
+ | |||
+ | Every one of Kostya' | ||
+ | |||
+ | "For the past few weeks," | ||
+ | |||
+ | Kostya had to admit, if only to himself, at being intrigued by younger man's self-assured idea. Still, based upon the broadcast topic and the fact that Cole had queued up such back onto the screen, Vladimir could anticipate where this discussion was going and remained intransigent in his position concerning the tactical imperative doctrine. Should he feel it truly necessary, he was more than willing to cede some sort of trivial matter here or there for the betterment of his overall agenda. Such was the way of politics, the give and take. So long as he always got more than he gave, he was willing to play the game to a degree. Repealing the doctrine though was simply out of the question. "If you're about to suggest that I repeal the tactical imperative doctrine-" | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Of course not, sir," Cole interrupted, | ||
+ | |||
+ | Slightly surprised, Kostya queried, " | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Well, I'm not a registered member of any party, of course. Corporate appearances and all... you understand." | ||
+ | |||
+ | "That I do," replied the President, his opinion of the man warming slightly at the probability of shared ideals and values. "So, what's your brilliant idea then, Mister Cole?" | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Well, let me preface by saying up-front that, by virtue of the subject of my proposal, I know your initial reaction isn't going to be a positive one. That said, if you'll hear me out beyond your first instinct sir, I'm certain you'll see the logic in my proposal." | ||
+ | |||
+ | Nodding his head ever so slightly, Kostya sat up in his chair and put his elbows on the table. " | ||
+ | |||
+ | Turning to the view screen, he keyed in a sequence and brought up a visual of a Galaxy-Class starship soaring through the upper reaches of Earth' | ||
+ | |||
+ | The sight of the Republic brought back a multitude of angry memories for Vladimir Kostya, something everyone on his staff knew very well. He had nearly burst a blood vessel when the ship had been summarily inducted into the Ships of the Line Museum on the grounds of Starfleet Command a few weeks after Re-Day and a further few weeks until the election. He had been sorely tempted to decry the induction of such a ship to such an elite and noble group of honorifics. For all the trouble the ship and her crew had caused him, it hardly deserved to be held in the same regards as such storied ships as the Phoenix, the NX-01, the Daedalus, the Farragut, the Enterprise 1701, the Excelsior, the Defiant and so on. It was bad enough that Voyager had been inducted upon it's return. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "I know you're very familiar with the Republic, mister president. I also know that through a handful of her crew, she's caused you quite a fair bit of trouble over the years." | ||
+ | |||
+ | "You do your homework, Mister Cole, I'll give you that..." | ||
+ | |||
+ | " | ||
+ | |||
+ | " | ||
+ | |||
+ | Either despite or because of his contempt for the Republic and her crew, not to mention the minor kinship he felt upon hearing Cole's tale of himself having been fouled by them, Vladimir Kostya had to admit that he was even more intrigued than he had been earlier. " | ||
+ | |||
+ | Shaking his head in the affirmative, | ||
+ | |||
+ | Nodding, Kostya once again could see where Cole was going and beat him to the punch. "So we christen a new ship named Republic?" | ||
+ | |||
+ | " | ||
+ | |||
+ | " | ||
+ | |||
+ | Before Kostya could offer his own opinion, one of his staff -- a short, rotund Bolian man who looked barely out of college -- objected. "The moratorium on non-tactical ship construction wasn't just about ideology. It specifically references the need to devote key critical resources, which in a war-like atmosphere we can not afford to waste on over-populated, | ||
+ | |||
+ | This time, it was Kostya who beat Cole to the punch. " | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Yes sir?" came the sheepish yet enthusiastic response from the young man-boy. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Shut up." commanded Kostya simply. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Sorry sir," replied Tem, appropriately chastised. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Turning his attention back to Cole, Kostya gestured for him to continue. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "As I was saying, each of these ships is very near completion anyway. It would only take eight weeks to complete the worst-off amongst them, the Intrepid-Class ship and a little less than two weeks to finish the best of them, the Luna-Class. Which is the one I believe we should christen as the new Republic, sir. The beauty of this is elegant in it's simplicity. By finishing these three vessels and sending them into active service, you give your opposition and your critics a hollow victory." | ||
+ | |||
+ | He then went on to detail the specifics, this time as he began a clockwise pace around the table. "Since they were already well under construction prior to the doctrine, you're not violating it in a technical sense because a conservative reading of such clearly states that no ' | ||
+ | |||
+ | A few long moments passed in silence once it was clear that Cole, now once against standing beside the president, was relatively finished. No matter what the actual opinions of Kostya' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Crouching down on his haunches in front of the president, he went over the last truly important detail. "In an ideal world, you could assign a crew of loyal neo-federalists to be in charge of this new Republic, and that would be that. As I'm sure you're aware though, this is not an ideal world. Not by far. If you stack this ship with party loyalists, or for that matter anyone outside of the former Republic' | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Well, I'm not terribly concerned with Captain Roth, or rather I should say Captain Dorian," | ||
+ | |||
+ | "That, mister president, is where the most beautiful element of this whole plan comes into play," revealed Cole, the mischievous grin once again washing over his features as he stood up and began moving once more along the length of the table back towards the front of the room. "As much as you loath them, I can only imagine they likewise loath you. Imagine how grating it will be to all of them to be reunited only to realize that they are so squarely under your thumb? How depressing it will be as they' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Now it was Kostya' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Standing up from conference table, everyone else present followed suit as Kostya straightened the suit jacket he wore before taking a few steps towards the pair of transparent aluminum doors, each of which was etched with half of the Federation seal. Stopping as his security detailed opened the doors for him, he looked back at Cole for a moment before saying, "Just remember, Mister Cole. If this plan of yours should back-fire... it was 500 years ago upon the ground this structure is built where the Guillotine was first used with rather resounding success. I'd hate to see someone I'd put my faith in let me down the same way Louis XVI let down his subjects, wouldn' | ||