Author's Note: this will be the first in a series of stories I'm aiming to be shorter than my usual offerings, focusing on smaller cast of characters in the Surefoot universe. So, you may not get as many words at a time, but I'm hoping to get them published more frequently.
*****
Meeting Hall, Summer Palace, Cascaran Province, Planet Nekros:
As she watched the sequence of energy eruptions on the screen, blossoms of red and gold and white, Monarch Prime Nhlanha's mind shot back to a similar resplendent scene: the fireworks that filled the Capitol's sky the night her twins Isole and Odede finally emerged from her pouch, ready to face the world. She held those tiny mewling purple bundles in her arms as she walked out to the balcony overlooking the Palace Courtyard, to the thousands of well-wishers waiting for a glimpse of the future rulers of the Nekrosi Commonwealth.
Her senses were overwhelmed by the lights and sounds, and her hearts quickened with perfect, empyreal joy until they felt as if they would burst from her chest.
The scene on the screen before her tonight also involved her children, and it also overwhelmed her... but in a different way. "Hold."
The image stilled on the final gasp of light, as the warp core of the starship that had taken her children to the Klingon Front to see the fighting surrendered to the relentless assault of disruptor fire from the ships pursuing it. Nhlanha stared at it, for far longer than was necessary or comfortable, as if locking eyes with the final image might somehow moor her babies to the Living Realm.
But of course she knew better, that her Firstborn had been turned to stardust almost a tenday ago. The entire planet had been ordered to be in mourning until further notice, and wore White, Nhlanha included of course.
But she had no time for mourning. Someone had to pay. "We thank you for providing us with this, Commissioner. The evidence against the criminal Starfleet Captain responsible for the murder of my children is incontestable."
Twenty-four years ago, and two years into Nhlanha's reign as Monarch Prime, the Nekrosi Commonwealth made formal contact with the United Federation of Planets, and trade and diplomatic relations were established. And in that time, she had encountered many different alien races, far more exotic than those conceived of in the science fiction kinecels favoured by the masses. But the dominant race among the Federation appeared to be the
hummins
: bipedal like Nekrosi, but short, squat, sheathed in every conceivable colour but a normal purple, and similarly covered with follicles, again of every colour.
High Commissioner Farrell favoured pale skin and copper-red follicles, though at least he was tall by his people's standards, though certainly not as tall as a normal Nekrosi. "Excuse me, Your Grace, but with respect, this recording, and the data and witness statements we provided your Ministers, was to prove that Captain Hrelle, and by extension Starfleet, was
not
responsible for the tragic deaths of Prince Isole and Princess Odede. It was the Klingons, seeking revenge for the attempted assassination of one of their captains by Prince Isole."
She approached him, feeling her long robes swish around her legs. "The evidence also proved that Captain Hrelle, the same criminal who assaulted and threatened my son days before, stood by and did nothing to stop the Klingons!"
Farrell's face tightened almost imperceptibly; a part of Nhlanha could coolly admire his diplomatic facade. "Firstly, Your Grace, and again with respect, Captain Hrelle had been responding to actions instigated by your son against one of his younger crewmen, a cadet under his protection. Despite this, in the interests of amity, he agreed to apologise and allow the Prince and Princess to accompany him to a clandestine meeting with a Klingon vessel. And Prince Isole used this opportunity to try and murder a Klingon, for no other reason than the desire to do so."
"And?" Nhlanha sneered. "Are they not your enemy? Enemies are to be crushed beneath your boots!"
"Your Grace, the Federation prefers not to crush. The Klingons had made an unprecedented offer to Starfleet, to hand over Starfleet Prisoners of War too wounded for them to properly manage, and it was an offer we couldn't refuse. Your son's actions jeopardised the ceasefire established, and threatened to escalate it and cause more casualties, and Captain Hrelle's exigent priority was to retrieve the wounded and prevent more from being created."
"This animal believed the lives of your minions, of
insignificants
, was of greater value than the lives of my babies!"
Farrell paused before replying. "Your Grace, Captain Hrelle is
not
an animal. He is a highly experienced, highly decorated Starfleet officer, who has saved thousands of lives during his career. Those 'insignificants', as you label them, men and women serving, risking their lives to defend us, are no less deserving of life than your children.
The Federation offers its condolences to you on the loss of the Prince and Princess. But with respect, they were present in a war zone of their own free will. They directly involved themselves in the conflict between Starfleet and the Klingon Imperial Fleet, and unfortunately for them, they paid the price for that involvement. Captain Hrelle's decision and actions were examined by Starfleet Command, and he was exonerated of any wrongdoing. We must refuse your... request... to extradite him to the Nekrosi Commonwealth."
It was a simple refusal. But to Nhlanha, to hear it spoken aloud, and in the presence of her staff and subjects, it was as if the
hummin
had struck her. "You know I can withdraw the resources of the Commonwealth from maintaining security in this sector of space! I can close our borders to the Federation!"
Farrell nodded in agreement. "You
can
do both, Your Grace, that is true. For the former, it would certainly be an inconvenience for Starfleet... but it would not be an insurmountable one. For the latter, I fear that isolation now, after all these years of having your borders open to the wider Galaxy, would harm your people more than it would us. And so for their sake, I would strongly urge you to consider their welfare-"
"Leave."
Farrell drew back; to his credit, he made no attempt to try and dissuade her, or explain further, or fawn or ingratiate himself with her. He bowed slightly, turned and departed. She watched his retreating figure, listened to the taps of his shoes on the polished stone floor, and waited until he was gone and the doors rolled shut, before she announced, "I wish to speak with my Synod. Alone."
She stood motionless, not even questioning if her orders were being fulfilled and the servants were filing out, and waited until a familiar voice signified, "Your Synod awaits to serve, Your Grace."
Now she turned in place to face her most trusted advisers. "Well... the Commissioner's response was exactly as you had warned, and as I had feared. But have no illusions: This is not the end of the matter. This is the beginning. Nosipho? What have you learned?"
One of her older ministers bowed to her, before bringing up on the screen an image of an alien species she had never seen before: large frame, sporting dark fur, a short muzzle, pointed ears and a long tail, looking very much like a Brown Mountain Grubber, but walking upright and dressed in a Starfleet uniform. "This is Captain Esek Hrelle, born in 2320 on the planet Cait, in system 15 Lyncis in the Muratas Sector, as identified in the Federation Cartographic Records. Caitians are felinoids, as you can see, and one of the earliest member worlds of the Federation. They are a matriarchy, with a long recorded history of conflict with a cousin race known as the Ferasans.
Hrelle served as Chief of Security on the USS
Republic
