To The Mattresses

 Episode Name:  To The Mattresses

   Written By:  Fortunae

         Cast:  Avok, Dakin, Fortunae, Gr'laH, Gr'raak'ta, Heller, Jem'Hadar, 

                K'net-mauri, Popura, S'Terik, S'veralis, Sarvok, Sovar and 

                Zuh'raah'do.

  Produced By:  Starfleet

  Directed By:  Fortunae

     Aired On:  Thu Apr 10 03:28:10 2003

     Stardate:  53131.1

Time: Wed Apr 09 20:42:38 2003

Stardate: 53130.4

The Presidential Palace in Kyroa on Nausicaa III; an atypical structure here in this long suffering planet and this much abused city the Presidential Palace is a relatively new structure, using the most modern of materials and clearly a synnergy of lavish decadence and functional defensive reinforcement. The chamber being used for his function is a long room with huge windows against the facing wall to the entrance. Dominating the center of the chamber is a fifty foot long heavy wooden table made from a single tree on Nausicaa IV. Hanging on the right wall is a large woven banner with the UNA symbols, at the table are placards of latinum with the Nausicaan name and tribal symbols of the warlords present. Along the wall where the doors open are smaller tables though large in their own right laden with food and drink of an excessive variety, and carrying with them cacophony of scents. Seated in clearly obvious chairs to set them apart from the other warlords is the UNA Council and the President's cabinet -- including a Ferengi, and S419's own Marcus Heller and Zuh'raah'do - Zuh'raah'do who sits at the right arm of the mighty Gr'raak'ta himself. Arrayed about the table are other warlords, in numbers nearing one hundred and twenty, a mixture of ages and genders -- warrior fitness and decadent corpulance. The Delegates are given seats along the wall near the food so they may observe, and with thier arrival, Gr'raak'ta rises... likely to call the meeting to order.

Zuh'raah'do looks about, a hint of a Nausicaan smile visible from beneath his black mandibles. His eyes go about the room, a respectful nod going to those present. He offers a greeting in his native tongue to the various Warlords that translates, roughly, to "Death has not claimed you.", his tone sounding like this is meant as a friendly affirmation. He falls silent and looks towards Gr'raak'ta.

K'net-mauri has, for some reason, seen fit to dignify this occasion in a way he never does for the meetings on S419 -- he wears his formal robes of elaborately folded whispering black fabric with a subdued purple rook's-wing sheen that changes as he moves. He enters with S'veralis slightly behind him and at his side, and he turns his head to look with solemn intensity at the room and its occupants.

Avok is similarly clad in what passes in Klingon culture for formalwear - less metal and black leather, more red leather, and a plethora of sleeveless robes bearing the insignia of the Empire itself, and slightly smaller, House Kot'oth. With long, yet measured strides he seats himself, sinking slowly and as gracefully as Klingonly possible into a seat on the wall, with a brief nod to Gr'lah as the older man seats himself.

S'Terik, wearing his customary diplomatic robe of white with intricate folds and lined with gold borders, enters with a slow, measured pace. His hands are folded into the wides sleeves of the opposing arm as he walks, head swiveling slowly as he takes in the room. His own adjutant, Sovar, is no far behind as he takes his seat.

Heller, meanwhile, seems to have been enjoying a funny story with a nearby Nausicaan. Although his voice is noticeably subdued, his grin is as loud as ever. He is dressed casually, dark blue sweater, black leather pants, and the ever-present medallion bearing Gr'raak'ta's symbol. He shuts up as Gr'raak'ta stands, his attention shifting quite nicely to the Nausicaan Warlord.

Sovar sits beside and to the rear of Ambassador S'Terik, his hands folded into the long sleeves of his robes, as is his custom. His expression is distant, focused on nothing in particular. As always, he is dressed in his dun-colored formal robes, denoting his position as Second Legate.

Stepping into the room behind KM, Lis follows in attendance, the silken cloth of the dress she wears whispering softly as the heels of her shoes click against the hard floor, her face shows no sign of what she maybe feeling with the exception of the smile that is rather pleasant looking.

Dakin steps into the massive chamber alongside Sovar, face a bit unreadable. As though he has seen something that concerns him, though he chooses not outwardly express it in any fashion. He is clad in his Starfleet dress whites, an array of three medals of decoration hanging just below his standard-issue comm badge. He takes a seat near Sovar, nodding to his traveling companions as he seats himself.

Sarvok follows slightly behind his fellow Starfleet officer, and the Federation delegates. The Vulcan is also wearing his dress uniform, though it displays a lack of any medals or decorations other than the standard Starfleet comminicator pin. The ensigns face is calm, and his grey eyes carefully survey the room noting its occupants, furnishings, and epicurian display. Making his way to his seat, he waits for his superiors to seat themselves before settling in himself.

Gr'laH settles himself down beside Avok, as noted, offering the younger Warrior a similar nod of the head and a grunt or two of comradely greeting. He is hardly thrilled to be present, hardly thrilled with the journey, hardly thrilled with his company. He is, in short, a touch on the sullen and grumbly side. Which is absolutely no departure from the norm, fortunately.

"Let us commence!" Gr'raak'ta rumbles with confident and charismatic power from his standing position at the great table. "The United Nausicaan Alliance welcomes you all to Kyroa, eternal seat of Nausicaan culture and power, and symbol of our emminence and sovereignty. I welcome also the delegates of our neighbors -- the lofty and wise Romulan Star Empire..." He gestures toward the Romulan delegation to allow for a spatter of hoots and applause. "...The beneficient and sympathetic United Federation of Planets and thier valient Starfleet..." Again he gestures and there are some polite noises made alongside snorts of bemusement from those not part of the UNA council. "...and fractious yet honorable Klingon Empire." To this there is a roar of cat calls and some honest applause of welcome, for the Klingons are strong and the Nausicaans respect strength -- even when wielded against them.

"On this historic and momumentous occassion, it pleases me well to be among such as we -- for tonight is a change from previous councils of warlords in the past where we discussed water rights or exchanges of hostages or force mediated the end of rivalries and hostilities between our number. Tonight we meet to face boldly an exciting corner in Nausicaan history where our petty difference are put aside and we join the ranks of the powers in this quadrent. Since the formation of the UNA, many of you have come to see this wisdom of unity and cooperative effort -- you have seen the fruits of this labor -- you have seen the lives of our citizens improving and our efforts to repair the unfortunate damage to our world that our struggles to date have caused. We have much to discuss -- about our future -- about our present -- and after tonight never again about our past. We have terraformers advising us on methods to heal our world and the soul of our people, we have economic ties growing that will ensure a long and steady explotation for the mutual benefit of all of our resources -- we have advisors helping us with our chronic medical difficulties -- we have the strong and sure hand of our neighbors in the Star Empire assisting us in bringing order to our people, and the ever compassionate input from the Federation on how to increase the standard of living for our people along with real aid to make this hope into a reality. We even have the anvil of the Klingon Empire who have so graciously allowed us to test the metal of our reorganized navy. So then, I welcome you all -- some for the first time, and perhaps for some the last -- because it is my intention to ensure that after this auspicious council that all the objects that block our unity and lines of communication and cooperation will forever more be put aside so that the UNA can achieve it's full destiny and place among the stars."

Gr'raak'ta then pauses to allow for reaction to his opening words.

Zuh'raah'do remains silent, eyes moving from Gr'raak'ta to sweep out over the hall. He offers polite applause as each of the Alliance members is introduced, his attention focused on what Gr'raak'ta has to say.

K'net-mauri makes his stately way to a place at the massive table, but he remains standing while Gr'raak'ta does. He folds his hands on the back of the chair and looks at the Nausicaan leader with somber and intense attention. The individual before him has been the object of his curiousity for quite some time, and the Romulan's gaze is assessing and thoughtful now. The applause his presence gathers does not seem to suprise him. He simply bows his ddark head in response to it without looking away from Gr'raak'ta or moving the focus of his attention away from the speaker. The mention of the Klingon 'anvil' draws a faint smile to his lips.

Avok watches Gr'raak'ta's speech with a sort of bemused interest, clapping where it is appropriate and listening silently through the rest. His applause of the Romulan delegation, incidentally, is a few decibels quieter than for the rest; though he allows himself a light chuckle at the reference to the Klingon anvil. His face does not reflect any sort of anger at the comment, rather, he takes it in good humor.

S'Terik remains silent throughout the opening, hands clasped together in front of him and eyes steady upon the Nausicaan ruler. He offers a nod when the Federation is introduced, but otherwise stays motionless.

Heller gives a healthy level of clapping for everyone. He otherwise sits comfortably and listens.

Sovar continues to stand behind S'Terik, watching some distant point in the room. He's like a dark shadow to the Vulcan Ambassador.

Gr'laH would applaud, but he's got the whole one arm issue to overcome. And beating on a table is a bit of an impolitesse. Usually. So he just leers his approval, or chortles at the correct moments. Having no love for the House of Kang, his reaction to the mention of the Klingon Anvil is to smack Avok's arm and snort his wry amusement. Ha. Dead Klingons. Very funny. And with that done, it's back to the brooding silence.

S'veralis nods towards the speaker with a quiet politeness. As she lifts her head the dark blue eyes flick about the table, coming to rest on Heller for a moment before returning to the Nausicaan att he head of the table.

Dakin nods politely to the Nausicaan leader as the Federation and Starfleet are mentioned. His posture in his seat is relaxed, but alert. Upon hearing the end of Gr'raak'ta's speech, or at least this portion of it, his eyes drift over to Sovar for a scant second, before returning his gaze to the main assemblage.

Sarvok listens attentively, but dispassionately. He is a Vulcan after all. As the opening remarks are made, the diplomatic officer makes note of reactions around the room; who cheers and for what. who boos and at what, and espeically what sort of reaction the mention of seeing "some for the last time" illicits from the warlords assembled.

The Nausicaan response to Gr'raak'ta's opening is a mixed one -- the UNA council members and the UNA supporting sub-warlords applaud with open and fevered support -- Gr'raak'ta is rather magnetic -- those who have remained moderate or indendent make polite noises and applaud without much true commitment -- and some openly render only the barest token of applause, their non-commitment clear by their behavior. After a few moments of this Gr'raak'ta raises his hand and motions for quiet so he may continue.

" With that said though, there are first matters we must address of a less noble and hopeful vein --" As he says this a Romulan female in a black tunic uniform and a sash marking her as a member of the Tal Diann to those who know Romulan uniforms enters ahead of a full score of Romulans with the lean and mean look of the Tal Shava. Her bobbed hair style whips as she turns her head and levels a disrupter at one of the Nausicaans not far from the UNA portion of the table -- the Tal Shava marines fanning silently behind her down the length of the room leveling their sleek bull-pup disrupter rifles at other specific Nausicaans as Gr'raak'ta continues. "-- it seems that our Romulan Advisors have uncovered many dark secrets during thier time of aid to us. Plots against the UNA. Plots against my person specifically. Embezzlement. Hoarding. Black Marketeering -- and in some of the worst of all cases assisting foreign powers in running arms through our space to the Othan rebels in the nearby sector of our friends in the Romulan Star Empire. It is impossible for us to begin an open and honest dialogue with each other with these traitors -- these vipers -- in our number."

The Nausicaan under the bead of the Romulan female begins to rise from his seat with a roar of outrage but is met with a single energy discharge sound and then tumbles back into his seat with a neat black rimmed hole through his forehead -- the woman doesn't miss a beat leveling her weapon at a different Nausicaan being covered by her company as Gr'raak'ta continues... "The evidence against you has been presented before a secret meeting of the Council of Enforcement and you have been found guilty of capital crimes against the Nausicaan people and in some cases our neighbors. We currently have officers standing by with your families and if you do not leave quietly to face your sentences they will share your judgement."

Gr'raak'ta waves a dismissive hand at those who are under the gun, and the other Nausicaans spare no moment to laugh and jeer at those of thier number so cleverly manuevered into a trap -- the other Nausicaans that is except the UNA council and ministers. The Romulan woman gestures meaningfully and with some shoving and jutting in the back with weapons, the Romulans soon have the sentenced Nausicaans departing through the great doorway form this chamber and out into the hall beyond.

Gr'raak'ta extends his mandibles in what passes for a Nausicaan smile and says, "My apologies for this interruption... for those interested in the transcripts of each trial and the charges and evidence, please let us know after the council and we will be happy to make them publicall known. We will be just a moment to witness the excecution of justice then will return to all of you, feel free to watch the proceding from the windows --" He gestures toward the windows and then begins to follow after the arresting party, his ministers and fellow UNA councilors moving to go with him.

Zuh'raah'do takes everying in stride, although a hint of a raised eyebrow betrays that the old Ambassador is taking in this turn of events for the first time. Black eyes scan the room as Zuh'raah'do begins to rise to his feet, pausing for a moment on K'net-mauri as he offers his friend an interested look, his hands placed firmly on the top of the table. Zuh'raah'do moves with the majority of the head table, following the Nausicaan traitors and their Romulan guards outside.

K'net-mauri watches all this quite impassively, still standing upright behind his chair with his hands folded on the back of it. He does stop watching Gr'raak'ta for a moment to watch the unit of Romulans and their female leader, but only for a moment. Executions are nothing new. A clever an charismatic Nausicaan leader is. The little smile that was his reaction to the mention of the fate of House Kang's ships lingers. Zuh'raah'do gets a little nod.

Avok looks on with a stoic expression... it appears the Romulan concept of justice has spread its tendrils into the UNA. His hands stay folded in his lap, and his gaze remains firmly on Gr'raak'ta with only a few glances towards the Romulan enforcers as he leans to speak in a low, hushed tone to Gr'laH.

S'Terik remains where he is, one eyebrow first going up, followed by both furrowing. He glances over at Dakin.

Avok whispers to Gr'laH, "It appears we may have played the part of the targ on the hunt, Captain. Though at this point I think it is beyond our power to change things. Let us hope we do not become war criminals by the night's end."

Heller's grin pauses as his attention shifts to the Tal Shava and he processes the situation. An expression crosses his face very briefly... sort of a steely reluctance... but it's gone before you know it, and he stands and follows Zuh out to view the pre-dinner entertainment.

Sovar's attention sharply focuses as the alleged traitors are led away. "Please excuse me, Ambassador," he says softly to S'Terik, and makes his way over to the window to watch the execution.

Gr'laH moves his hand to his blade when the armed Romulans flood the conference chamber, his lips drawing back in a snarl of challenge. When the Nausicaan rises from his seat only to be blasted in the head, Gr'laH's gaze shifts to that Romulan, then about the others, tracking their aim and their movements. He is far less than thrilled, and his hand never wavers from the hilt of his blade even when the 'traitors' are hauled from the chamber to meet their fate. He does not respond to Avok. He just growls his annoyance back at his Ambassador.

S'veralis acts as if she was expecting such a incident, and calmly watches, nodding seriously as the actions performed by the Romulan team was fully within the proper boundaries. Her hand however does come out from beneath her skirt, this might be the only hint of a slight nervousness. "Just measures for traitors," she mutters softly.

Dakin frowns somewhat, his right hand tensing just a bit as if reflexively about to go for a phaser, then just as quickly dismissing the notion. The look from S'Terik gets a concerned frown from the Bajoran. He regardless heads slowly to the window, showing no signs of the mental bracing he inflicts on himself for what he is about to witness.

Sarvok pays less attention to the execution and the procession then he does to the Warlords who remain. The ones being lead away are dead already, and their situation can hardly be addressed at this juncture. It is the living rather, that the Ensign needs to assess. Certainly there are some who still sympathize with the actions of the doomed procession walking to the disruptor. It is they, that the Vulcan tries to identify.

The Nausicaan's not paraded outside seem jubillant in their situation, and as soon as the procession has exited most of them move in a less then decorous rush to join those at the window to watch the festivities. Others though seem less interested in this developing situation, perhaps confident in thier own positions and they rise from their seats wading against the majority going to the windows until twelve Nausicaans convene at the table of food and take some portions to gobble down with their mandibles. The corpse is knocked off it's chair in the chaos and tumbles unceremoniously to the floor in an unheard conclusion.

In the view from the window the Nausicaans can be seen being hearded into the courtyard by the Romulans in the direction of an undecorated wall with no windows.

Zuh'raah'do walks along with the group of Nausicaans of the UNA, his hands folded behind his back. Nausicaan justice doesn't seem to bother the Ambassador at all as he takes his morbid stroll. He does glance over towards the windows a couple times. He leans over at one point and speaks with the Ferengi who is present, and offers a few words to the Nausicaans that are around him.

K'net-mauri watches the windows, but he doesn't move to press his face against the glass. The finer details of the execution don't interest him, and the finer details of the audience outside would be hard to descern whatever he does. He turns his head slowly to look around the room as others move about.

Avok stays in his seat and lets his gaze idly wander towards the window, seemingly more concerned about when the meeting will resume than the fireworks display occurring in the hallway. His hands remain in his lap, ever the stoic Ambassador; for all of Gr'laH's emotion, the younger Klingon maintains his composure.

S'Terik looks about almost casually, taking mental note of everything he sees, paying particular attention to certain people over others.

Heller has a crooked little grin, having gotten into a conversation with his Nausicaan acquaintance again between dining hall to execution grounds. He seems to have perhaps forgotten the situation, but not his surroundings... his body-language is all about averting notice, for the most part.

Sovar reaches the window, and looks down at the execution. He looks down, his expression as stony as ever, his attention well-focused on the execution. Dakin's presence doesn't even appear to be registered as the younger Vulcan looks out on a scene that is undoubtedly different from anything seen on Vulcan in the last thousand years.

S'veralis moves only far enough to keep with easy reach of KM, her eyes do not watch him though, they watch the others in the room on the off chance of some one of being missed, and deciding to take actin against her principle. she pays little attention to the executions having other things on her mind at the moment.

Dakin stays where he is, watching out into the firing grounds. His face is an inscrutable mask, but it would appear he feels he *has* to witness this.

Sarvok continues to observe the goings on inside the hall.

Outside the first six nausicaan's from the 32 seized are put up against the wall, the female can be seen to bark an order and the Romulans smoothly bring thier weapons up -- she brings her arm down with another unheard by those upstairs in the meeting chamber and the Romulans open fire with pinpoint and deadly accuracy - the Nausicaans pitching over or twisting in a dancing transition from life to death. Another six Nausicaans are brought toward the wall -- beginning to plead now in some cases, but Gr'raak'ta seems oblivious to any of their cries, even as one takes a rifle butt to the stomach for trying to twist free from the grip of his escorting Tal Shava. Instead, Gr'raak'ta puts a friendly paw like hand upon Zuh'raah'do's shoulder and makes some comment towards Heller the evokes a spate of laughter from his fellow Council members and the by comparison diminutive Ferengi in thier company.

Meanwhile, inside the Nausicaans at the window release a chorus of cheers and and roars of entertained approval, while the smaller group continues to sample from the table of bounty.

It is then that quietly, discretely, a male Vorta comes too the doorway and attempts to get the attention of the foreign delegates before he steps inside and moves to the opposite doorwall corner from the table of food. He again makes a gesture that suggests he would like -- no, more stringent than that - needs them to come and join him.

Being outside, Zuh'raah'do misses the entrance of our Dominion friend. He nods as Gr'raak'ta speaks to him, his eyes going over towards Heller as he chuckles. His eyes go back to the executions soon enough, though, and they steel over. A grim expression forms for a moment before he's drawn back into conversation with those around him.

K'net-mauri, watching the room with a somewhat larger fraction of his attention than he awards the scene outside the window, is fairly quick to notice a Vorta. He lowers his head a little to stare at that figure with predatory intensity. The Romulan ambassador never moves very fast and seldom very suddenly, a fact which makes S'veralis' task easier than it might be. Still, he's curious and starts slowly towards the newcomer.

Avok watches the Vorta for a few moments, indecision running through his mind. He's not a fan of the Dominion. In fact, he's got slightly more respect for a steaming pile of avian excrement than he does for this Vorta. But, on the other hand, one should know one's enemy. How better to defeat the creature than to know why it wishes to speak with him? He rises slowly, fluidly, from his seat, and paces over to where the Vorta stands, a few steps behind K'net-mauri, robes flowing behind him. He doesn't particularly care if Gr'laH comes, and not a glance is cast back at the grizzled warrior.

S'Terik sights the Vorta with ease, but soon returns to his scanning of the room.

Heller is oblivious to the context of the joke and, in fact, offers Zuh a little finger salute to perhaps join in the camaraderie of that group, from afar. He doesn't watch the executions over-much, but it's not something that you can readily avoid, so he nods and grins, offering up a cheer at intervals, but perhaps not as zealously as others.

Sovar observes the executions in silence, and with utterly no change in expression. And curiously, after they're over, he continues to look out the window, watching the aftermath and cleanup. He hasn't yet looked away, so doesn't notice the Vorta.

Gr'laH eyes the Vorta with open disgust. The old Klingon remains in his seat, snorts derisively at this entire circus as a whole, and finds himself a bit of wall to stare at. Preferably one without anything between his eye and it. And like so, he broods.

S'veralis follows along with K'net eyeing the Vorta with suspicion. Her hand resting on her dress with a slight pressure. Her steps match those of the Romulan Ambassador but the easily seen muscles of her legs show a tenseness that was not there prior.

Dakin blinks at the sight of the Dominion's genetically-bred cheerleader, which just gives the Bajoran more incentive to keep his outward demeanor as Vulcan-like as possible. Casting a final glance to the firing grounds, he makes his way towards the Vorta.

Sarvok watches to see if Ambassador S'Terik moves to join the Vorta, and seeing that he has decided to remain at the table, the ever ernest Ensign takes the task upon himself. Calmly, Sarvok moves over to join the little circle converging on the dominion hold over.

Outside the executions continue with casual pacing and lack of solemnity for the UNA government officials; the Romulans don't even drag the already executed out of the way before shoving another group against the wall and upon command from the female terminating the lives of another half dozen Nausicaan Warlords.

Inside at the window the majority of the Nausicaans hoot and cheer as another group of their peers are escorted out the door of life by disrupter ushers -- one even mentions putting odds on which of the next batch will be the last to hit the grue accumlating courtyard tiles.

The Vorta, Popura, gestures another time for the offworlders to join him -- an expression of concern framed on his face. As the first make it to him he nods, but rather than issuing a greeting of any sort he seems to try with an air of finality to bring those lagging toward him at a more deliberate pace.

K'net-mauri doesn't hurry. He contines to the Vorta without changing his pace an iota. He gets there anyway and stands before Popura at a conversational distance, staring at the being with the tender careful interest of a scalpel. He doesn't speak. Appearantly the Vorta wishes to address a group.

Avok follows suit, taking up a position at a similar distance from Popura, but a few feet to K'net-mauri's left, folding his arms over his chest and grunting slightly in greeting. Such is the respect he conveys for the creature.

After completing his visual inspection of every facet of the room, S'Terik moves with his usual pace toward the Vorta, hands once again folded into his robe's sleeves. Upon reaching the other ambassadors, he comes to stop and looks expressionlessly at Popura.

Sovar is still staring out the window at the events happening outside.

If anyone made the mistake of assuming Gr'laH wasn't as stubborn as all of that, this should clear the air. He continues his brooding stare at the wall. And when the Vorta makes his demanding gesture, Gr'laH invokes the old Terran addage of the victorious conqueror to the defeated enemy. "Loser takes the walk." Alliance 7, Dominion 0.

Noticing the Vorta's apparent need for the totality of the delegation's presence, Dakin looks around for stragglers and spies Sovar. "Mr. Sovar," he calls, loud enough to be heard, but not so much as to be obtrusive. --Direct--

Sarvok reaches the gathering, and remains standing; stoicly standing.

Sovar looks over, brows furrowing. Noting the gathering around the Vorta, and Dakin's tone, he takes one last glance out the window, and then approaches the group with long strides.

Even as Sovar pushes out of the massed crowd to move toward the clusters off worlders, and even as the Vorta frowns almost sadly at Gr'lah's retort, through the still open doors pour the disciplined and just becoming visible forms of Jem'Hadar.

Armed Jem'Hadar.

Two lined formations moving with perfect discipline and dispering towards both long walls -- lines forming up to put them between the twelve at the table and the cluster of diplomats at the opposite corner. One large Jem'Hadar, likely the Alpha snaps out a command and in unison the dozens of Jem'Hadar lift their left legs bracing on the right foot and push -- the mammoth table tips over even as the Jem'Hadar drop smoothly into crouches bracing their firearms on the table edge as the various PADDs and water pitchers tumble in a clatter to the floor.

For some of the Nausicaans, this sudden noise is enough to tear their attention away from the shots fired outside -- but even for those it is far too late.

The Jem'Hadar open fire with their Polaron rifles.

Flashes of multifire purple beams are unleashed like arrows at Agincourt and all that can heard are screams and sizzling flesh. Body parts spin free from those clipped in limbs, corpses tumble into the windows that and bounce back off the hardened refractive plastic that serves as glass. Bodily fluids spew in torrents and death cries rattle in throats as the Jem'Hadar continue to pour fire into the Warlords without any expression but detached Neutrality.

Popura the Vorta on the other hand, turns his gaze away from the carnage and lifts his hands to protect his sensitive ears.

Zuh'raah'do turns his attention up towards the windows, his vision catching the dance of death that is captured in-frame. Black mandibles rub together as he stares upwards.

Well, that was unexpected. K'net-mauri lifts his head with a start when the Jem'hadar appear. Porpura has totally lost his attention as he takes in the development. The Romulan watches the demise of the remaining Warlords, glaring at the scene with look of oddly savage suprise. He catches himself before it is entirely finished and becomes impassive again.

Avok quickly turns, stepping back so that the Vorta blocks the firing path from the Jem'Hadar to himself, and reaching down to rest on the hilt of his dk'tagh. His free hand hovers near the back of the Vorta's arm, ready to grab the fragile little thing if it tries to move away, and his face turns into a sort of scowl-glower. A sclower, you might call it. Oh Vor'mak, where art thou?

The Vulcan ambassador's head spins toward the commotion, then snaps back to the Vorta. "What is this?"

Heller's eyes flick to the flashing burning lights of the dining room windows, his ears pricking at the sound of tortured death screams. He hazards a quick glance at Zuh, then mimics the Nausicaan's expression... albeit with a human spin. Instead of mandibles rubbing together, he chews his top lip with deliberate consideration.

Sovar hurries his stride to get out of the way of the Jem'hadar, his expression still utterly impassive. Just a trifle...rushed. He ends up standing beside the Vulcan Ambassador.

Apparently Gr'laH just sits there as the table is upended by the rush of the Jem'Hadar. Which is probably rather amusing to witness, in that the Old Warrior is without the opportunity for any action one way or the other until the slaughter is well under way. Since sitting at a table now operating as a fire position for a platoon of armed Jem'Hadar -- on its side, no less -- serves little to no purpose, Gr'laH rises to his feet and draws his Dk'tagh, releasing its secondary blades with a snap of metal. He looks to Avok and says only, "Tell my daughter her father died well." Having seen enough of this travesty of diplomacy, having witnessed executions of political rivals, having witnessed sworn enemies gun down honorable aggressors, having seen a table for discourse turned into a bolthole for armed militants, Gr'laH does the only thing he can be expected to do in that situation.

He stabs the nearest Jem'Hadar in the neck.

S'veralis turns at the sound of the firing weapons, her hand darting under a slit in her skirt, as tie firing continues the hilt of the weapon becomes visible thru her hands and remains so until she is sure that the threat to K'net is not their. A long step brings her closer to KM and with a conflicting issue decides to place her self between the Jem'Heddar and the Ambassador. while trying to keep a watchful eye on the Vorta, "Cleaning house." she replies to the Vulcan ambassador, "Rather bluntly if I may say so."

Gr'laH reveals his Dk'Tagh.

Gr'laH wields his Dk'Tagh.

Dakin winces as the polaron bursts slice and dice the Nausicaan warlords. His right hand drops to one side, able to pluck out the Type I attached to his waist if need be, assuming it would do any good to begin with. He hopes Gr'laH's act of defiance doesn't preclude an escape route for the delegation.

Sarvok watches with rapt attention, each splatter of blood, each falling limb, each wizzing lance of polarized energey, each scream of pain and horror etched into the fresh Ensign's eidetic memory. This day will call for some serious meditation.

GAME: Gr'laH spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Gr'laH contests his Primitive Weaponry (D'k Tagh) skill vs Jem'Hadar's Dodge skill and Fails!

<CONTEST> Gr'laH (claiming advantage) contests his Primitive Weaponry (D'k Tagh) skill vs Jem'Hadar's Dodge skill and Fails!

<CONTEST> Jem'Hadar contests his Primitive Weaponry (Club) skill vs Gr'laH's Primitive Weaponry (D'k Tagh) skill (given advantage) and Fails!

<CONTEST> Jem'Hadar contests his Primitive Weaponry (Club) skill vs Gr'laH's Primitive Weaponry (D'k Tagh) skill (given advantage) and Succeeds!

Outside, Gr'raak'ta turns his head to look up at the window as well and clacks his mandibles with a deep rumbling chuckle. The Romulan woman also turns her attention that direction as the last of the Nausicaans outside fall, there is no hesitation in her as she levels her disrupter pistol towards the chuckling Gr'raak'ta. Even as her Tal Shava companions are turning and leveling their weapons as the Nausicaan governmental party Gr'raak'ta keeps laughing and gestures up toward the roof -- the woman doesn't look away but she does pause as he hears the not unfamiliar tone of polaron weapons charging from the direction of the roof tops. She lowers her weapon and her marines follow suit.

Gr'raak'ta nods at this change of stance and almost amiably gestures for all to follow him back inside...

Meanwhile, back inside -- as Gr'lah looses his steel and brings his blade with force toward his chosen opponant, the Jem'Hadar jerks backward -- perhaps having seen the flash of metal out of the corner of his genetically engineered eyes. He snarls in fury and sweeps his rifle two handedly towards the seasoned Klingon veteran only to have it turned aside by a practiced sweeping parry of the Klingon weapon.

Unfortunately for Gr'lah though, the response from the Jem'Hadar to his assault was not one sided -- the Jem'Hadar standing to the right of the one attacked spins around in a full arc and brings his rifle butt into the knee of the Klingon forcing him to buckle off balance and crash to the floor. The Jem'Hadar levels his rifle down at the prone Klingon and says in Federation Standard -- "You move again Klingon, you die."

Meanwhile, Popura realizing the disaster about to happen yells, "Don't kill the Klingon, Don't Kill the Klingon!" Which is handily translated by the universal translators on the nearby Starfleet officers.

Zuh'raah'do turns his eyes from the window and towards the Tal Shava for a moment before casting them skyward towards the rooftop. Black mandibles click as he slips his hands together at the small of his back. Slowly, finally, he looks to Gr'raak'ta.

K'net-mauri snaps his gaze to the Vorta when he sees the rather unfortunate position of Gr'laH, a detail he had missed for a moment amid the crackle of the polaron beams. But Popura's already screaming just the right thing, so the Romulan looks sharply back towards the Klingon ambassadorial aide.

GAME: Popura spends a courage point.

GAME: Avok spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Avok (claiming advantage) contests his Unarmed Combat (Mok'bara) skill vs Popura's Dodge skill (given advantage) and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Avok (claiming advantage) contests his Primitive Weaponry (Dk'tagh) skill vs Popura's Dodge skill (given advantage) and Succeeds!

Granted, Avok has a universal translator. And it translates what the Vorta is shouting. But with polaron rifles blasting, and the shouting, and the distraction of his aide on the ground, Avok isn't really able to hear very well what the little device is saying from within the folds of his robes. As such, he loops his left arm under Popura's left in the mok'bara equivalent of a half-nelson and places the tip of his dk'tagh in the small of the Vorta's back. He bellows out to the Jem'Hadar in Federation standard, "If you so much as harm my adjutant your Vorta will fall to the floor like a sack of grain and you will never so much as /look/ at Ketracel White again." His attention shifts somewhat, looking down at Gr'laH. "And you! Stand down. You were not ordered to attack them. Turn over your weapon and return to where you stood. We need no more bloodshed here today."

"Ambassador Avok," S'Terik says in a calm, yet raised voice, "He ordered the Jem'Hadar to not attack Gr'laH. It is suggestible that you release him lest your actions bring harm to all of us. /Now/."

Heller's mouth twists into half-grimace, meanwhile, back on the execution grounds. His attention follows the sound of charging polaron weapons... his eyes rest on the rooftop briefly before circling, furtively, back to the swarthy Romulan woman and her Tal Shava. He continues glancing around, uncertain... probably searching for something to hide behind.

Sovar steps in front of S'Terik, standing in-between the slightly smaller Vulcan and the Jem'hadar.

Gr'laH roars -- not so much in pain, because that's just silly -- but in outrage and being put to the ground. Mind you, he can probably fight from the ground just as well as he can on his feet, so it's more a matter of indignation than anything else. Having a rifle trained at his face just isn't a deterrant. Other races fear death, and some Klingons may even take pause at death under such circumstances. But Gr'laH is not disuaded. If anything, he takes the Vorta's order as something of a freebie. He releases his blade and moves his good arm up to grasp the muzzle of the rifle with a snarl, holding it against his neatly ridged forehead. "It is a good day to die, Jem'Hadar." Oh, yes. And he grins. "And I could not want for more distinguished company." And his grin turns into a throaty laugh. In the face of certain death, no less.

S'veralis taping the belt buckle with her free hand she moves into a better position to guard KM in a way forcing the Ambassador back ready to accept a blow that may take her instead of him. She says in Romulan, "Uhlan S'veralis to (Name of ship here forgot it) I want a Transporter lock on my signal prepare to beam the Diplomatic party out." she pauses for a moment looking around her anger showing on her face, making appear to be the warrior she is, She says in Romulan, "Decloak in atmosphere above this signal for effect." turning her attention to the Klingon Ambassador, 'You endanger my principle. She says in Romulan, " she says in fed speak with a hint of an edge to it, and a promise."

S'veralis taping the belt buckle with her free hand she moves into a better position to guard KM in a way forcing the Ambassador back ready to accept a blow that may take her instead of him. She says in Romulan, "Uhlan S'veralis to (Name of ship here forgot it) I want a Transporter lock on my signal prepare to beam the Diplomatic party out." she pauses for a moment looking around her anger showing on her face, making appear to be the warrior she is, She says in Romulan, "Decloak in atmosphere above this signal for effect." turning her attention to the Klingon Ambassador, 'You endanger my principle' she says in fed speak with a hint of an edge to it, and a promise. Her knife fully comes from its Sheathe to gleam brightly in the light, 'The choice is yours.'

Dakin reaches for his commbadge, but lowers that hand once S'veralis appears to have done exactly what he'd intended. He keeps his eyes trained on the Dominion troops for any sign of last-minute hostility as he awaits transport.

S'veralis reveals her Neca.

S'veralis wields her Neca.

Sarvok follows the logical example of Sovar and also moves to sheild the Federation Ambassador from a potential direct line of fire should the Jem'Haddar be so inclined. The young Starfleeet officer's expression seems starkly alert, his leg muscles appear taut, and his stance is in a classic Vulcan defense posture.

Avok snarls, glancing from S'Terik to S'veralis. Damn pointy-eared ones always want a favor. The Klingon pushes the Vorta away from the delegation, leaving his knife bared and lowering his gaze at the nearest Jem'Hadar. "I do not fear death in battle with the honorless slaves of the Dominion. But my companions here this day do not follow the teachings of Kahless, and feel otherwise. Your Vorta will live." He is clearly not pleased with the decision, but that's part of being a Diplomat. Making sacrifices for the greater good. "Gr'laH," he says in Federation Standard, for all to hear and understand, "Release that weapon and come here. Leave your blade where it lies."

As the Vorta is released the Jem'Hadar who were leveling thier weapons at the diplomat cluster avert thier aim and keep their weapons ready but no longer threateningly directed. Popura himself stumbles forward from being shoved and says with a surprisingly collected tone, "Why do you think I tried to get you out of the way -- if any of you were the targets then I wouldn't have bothered -- oh wait, I'm sorry -- reaching that conclusion would have required you to actually /think/ instead of attack. The fault is mine, you're just being Klingon." He waves at the Jem'Hadar to let Gr'lah up and they respond without hesitation as the Vorta adjusts the lay of his shirt after it's rough treatment at the hands of Avok.

And all of this gets out because there is no transporter signal to whisk them to safety -- instead from S'veralis' belt buckle comes a return response in Romulan, "We regret to inform you that moments ago a transporter inhibiter field was initiated at your location -- we are prepared to beam down a tactical team, you should fight your way out of the building we will guide them to your location."

Meanwhile, the group from outside ascends the stairs to the upper floor where the conference room is at, Gr'raak'ta with a bit of lift to his step, the other warlords with him a bit unsettled but trusting in thier leader.. the Romulans are silent but focused, after all, they are no longer in the courtyard and they have their own weapons.

K'net-mauri draws his head back and up in another start of suprise at Avok's grabbing of the Vorta, a gesture that makes him look like a hawk about to let out a screech. He yeilds easily to S'veralis' positioning, without sparing her much more than a glance. Whatever he may feel about the sarcrifice she is prepared to make, he can guess where she wants him and he places himself there. Avok's tossed Popura roughly aside before K'net-mauri can offer him any more advice than that furious look. He'd chuckle at the Vorta's assessment of Klingons, but he's not nearly in the mood and has far more important things on his mind, those being the response of the Ts'lux T'Gora to S'veralis' hail. Which is rendered slightly less alarming by the arrival of the Tal Shava team, but this does nothing to soften the look on his face. He turns it on Gr'raak'ta.

Avok reluctantly returns his dk'tagh to the hip holster, glaring at the Vorta as he responds in kind, "Perhaps if you would warn those who are not your targets before flooding a room with your abominations, we would not be so quick to anger." With that, and seeming to completely disregard the presence of the Jem'Hadar, he walks over to see to Gr'laH, preferring to stay closer to his brethren and farther from the Romulans, right now.

S'Terik watches the resulting actions intently, staying right where he is being the other two Vulcans. "What, if I may ask, is your intention for us, then?" he asks of Popura.

Like /hell/ is Gr'laH leaving without his D'k tagh, and the scowl he shoots to Avok makes that abundantly clear. "I am afraid I did not hear you, Ambassador. Let me get my weapon and I will listen more closely." Gr'laH rolls over onto his belly and lays his hand on his weapon, slowly pushing up from the ground with a low growl, weapon held in hand, at his side. A room full of armed Tal Shava, Jem'Hadar Soldiers, a few Nausicaan Warlords, a Vorta, and the ever pacifistic and out of the line of fire Starfleet Personnel. Right. He's dropping his weapon. Sure. The only order of Avok's he /does/ bear any weight is the order to join the other Klingon. He does. In that he stands up rather immediately at the other man's side. "Yes. I am just being Klingon. And you have yet to give us a reason why we shouldn't continue trying to kill you." He's back on his feet, after all!

S'veralis hears the footsteps coming up the stairs and pivots slightly on the toes of the shoes she is wearing She says in Romulan, "Stand by for further orders, keep the tactical team on High readiness to instant actions should this transmission end with out a further word from me." her eyes come to rest on the UNA leader as if sizing him up, before flicking her eyes to the Tal Shava team.

Dakin frowns as he looks out at all the carnage. He decides to be the first to try and gain some info about this diplomatic function-turned-slaughterhouse. The question is posed to Popura, "I think that our attention's been soundly obtained. Now what's all this about?"

Avok

Popura choses to respond to the Klingon first before turning to focus on the questions from the Federation delegates saying, "Obviously you need an illustrated manual on reality, to help you I offer this you cretin -- I gestured for you to come over, had your aide opted to follow the implication of such a gesture on my part -- since the Gods know I have no deep motivation to switch to mono-syllables to accomodate a typical Klingon conversation -- they I could have given you more warning. Had your aide not broken the Treat of Bajor, then you wouldn't have assaulted me and I *still* would have been able to explain -- but perhaps not enough times for it to penetrate past that plate on your skull which is obviously a genetic gift to help Klingons survive the part of childhood where they repeatedly bounce into closed doors until they realize what a handle is for."

Popura then responds to the Vulcan and the Human, "I have no intentions for you at all, I am merely earning my supper so to speak -- I would have been unable to intend harm to you due to the terms of our peace treaty -- which I of course choose to honor unlike some sleeve wiping droolers present but I digress and here comes your host who will be explaining I am sure. Despite the drama it was a pleasure meeting most of you and sharing a moment of sheer peril thanks to the clumsy logic of the Klingon Empire."

While all this is behind said, the party from outside returns and for the part of Gr'raak'ta he merely gestures towards Jem'Hadar and his table and they begin moving to right it back to it's previous stance. Gr'raak'ta holds up his hands as he steps through the corpses apparently unphased saying, "Yes, yes, that will be enough Mister Popura, don't extend credit that you can't afford to pay -- if you annoy a Klingon enough he will consider it worth his own life to end yours. Hmmm... that may not even require provocation." He laughs richly, setting a chair upright after shoving corpses off of it and sitting down making himself comfortable. "Now -- before there is too much finger pointing and shouting, let us first address this. Your Commander Edwards once insulted my delegate to your table -- saying in theme that we were not worthy of respect or fair treatment by the Federation it's Starfleet because we didn't have a fully unified World Government. We have been denied aid from the Federation that they give freely to races who look more like humans with the lack of unification being the excuse. The Klingons have tested our borders and murdered our peaceful citizens -- and yes, I call people on a /FARM/ far from any starship not brought by the Klingons to be peaceful because they did not consider us a "power" to be considered. Only the Romulans have in good faith offered to help us. Despite our efforts to try to meet you other powers half-way you have arrogantly decided to not even consider extending the same effort because we are apparently not /worthy/ of such. FINE. That ends today. You were brought here to witness the end of disunity. There is now only /ONE/ Nausicaan government, I am it's leader all other factions are dead -- dead because you would not respect our efforts unless we could prove there was a legitimately elected government. I was elected, we were elected, they refused to recognize this and so were traitors and so are dead because that is what you /FORCED/ me to do."

Gr'raak'ta then shifts to a more pleasant body language and open his mandibles in a smile. "Now, shall we sit and discuss the aide you can now give us in our cause... and eat... after all, the death of Nausicaans never affected your appetites before."

Zuh'raah'do doesn't notice the bodies on the floor first. Or the upturned table. Or the displayed weapons. Or the Dominion shock troops. Or even K'net-mauri's burning expression. He notices the Vorta. "Popura.", he says simply. Then he takes note of everything just described, in reverse order. His eyes tally the Nausicaan are dead, then nods to himself as an internal question is answered. Hands fold into his robes as he returns to his seat. Upset over the carnage displayed before their guests? Most likely. Upset that the dead Nausicaans met a fate that any court in the universe would deem just? Not a bit. He does give Gr'raak'ta a disapproving glance concerning the wet-works. He listens to Popura speak, and the Gr'raak'ta, all the while moving a corpse enough to allow for him to sit down in his chair. He leans in close to speak to Gr'raak'ta.

Zuh'raah'do whispers to Gr'raak'ta, "We should have planned this. I would of had much to offer to the discussion."

K'net-mauri's burning expression demanded explaination from Gr'raak'ta. Its fury doesn't exactly fade when that explaination is so nicely forthcoming, but it changes its tone. A less volitile sort of fury. He sweeps his gaze around the bloodstained room and then back to the Nausicaan leader. "I question the good taste and wise judgement of your particular manner of presenting this little lesson," he says. "But very well." He speaks blandly, in measured tones that do not match the crackle in his eyes.

Avok only glowers at Popura, ignoring for the most part Gr'raak'ta's tirade. "A moment of peril indeed, Vorta. No doubt there are twenty clones of you about, each willing to take your sniveling place while you suffer in whatever hell your people are too artificial to believe in." He folds his arms, standing upright at Gr'laH's side and murmuring to his aide as he awaits the close of the... meeting.

S'Terik says to Gr'raak'ta, "Correct me if I am wrong, but I do believe that the Federation has been providing the UNA with aid."

Avok whispers to Gr'laH, "He has the chuz'pA to do what Martok will not, and has achieved our goal before we even come close. In a way, I envy him."

Heller regards the carnage with a sort of casual distaste, his eyes avoiding the more gorey aspects of the room. He glances at the Federation delegation, checking their responses to the situation.

"According to the Treaty of Bajor, you are not supposed to /BE HERE/, Vorta! Nor your Jem'Hadar! You were to return to the Delta Quadrant and to your masters like the whipped dogs that you are! I am not going to have that treaty held against me when you violate it so openly in your collusions here. You have not surrendered. You have not lain down your weapons. You have not retreated where you must. You are not flying any banners of truce. You are not bearing any crests of office. You stormed into this diplomatic chamber and began gunning down delegates! And despite your gestures and your protestations, I am to trust you? The dead by the window trusted you, too. The dead by the wall trusted you all, as well. No. I do not think I am given over to trusting the gestures of the Vorta under such circumstances. Take your pithy rhetorics and return to your masters where your treaty applies." With that snarled, Gr'laH shifts his attention to Gr'raak'ta, "A bold move, Gr'raak'ta, and one I do not in point of fact find exception with. The arrest and execution of your traitors is as it should be. This madness, here, however. It is an insult. A bearable insult, but an insult nonetheless. You knew better than to flood this room with armed Jem'Hadar. Had the delegates of the other star powers been killed, it would not have been such a bold statement of your unity. Your power. Your authority. Simply an example of how close you come, daily, to losing it. A bold risk, as I said. Great leaders are made in such ways." Mixed praise and rebuke. Diplomacy.

Sarvok follows the illogic of the Nausicaan leader in the same stocism he has portrayed all evening. However at the mention of sitting down to eat, the Ensigns attention flicks to the banquet table and the steaming heap of dead Warlords so recently stuffing themselves. For the first time during the day, Sarvok looks decidedly /dis/-interested.

Sarvok follows the illogic of the Nausicaan leader with the same stocism he has portrayed all evening. However, at the mention of sitting down to eat, the Ensigns attention flicks from the banquet table to the steaming heap of pile that was once Warlords, near the window. For the first time during the day, Sarvok looks decidedly /dis/-interested.

S'veralis into her comm She says in Romulan, "Have the tactical team stand down situation in control. She moves to follow K'net with a light step as she sheathes her knife."

Gr'raak'ta gestures toward the UNA banner which rolls up and reveals a monitor that shows images from local feeds and subspace of vessels being seized or destroyed, domes being hit, hordes of tribal warriors surrendering to UNA uniformed Nausicaans -- obviously punctuation to his declaration about the UNA wresting the control their election provided from the hands of resistant powers in the Nausicaan sphere. As the questions come in he cocks his head and gestures towards Zuh'raah'do -- realizing now it might be the time to have his mouthpiece field these questions lest his unfamiliarity with such insolant glares or tones of question inspire him to react rashly, though to Gr'lah's comment he takes the time to give the elder warrior a penetrating considering stare before nodding and extending his mandibles in a smile.

Zuh'raah'do addresses the issues that Gr'raak'ta send his way. "First, let me apologize for the level of carnage that you had to witness, but not the carnage itself. As Gr'laH pointed out, we dealt with our criminals, traitors and terrorists in one fell swoop. Believe me, there is not one Nausicaan corpse on this floor or outside that any of you would shed a tear over. Or do not believe me, and request the files for those that have met justice this day. Nausicaan justice." Zuh'raah'do's eyes scan over the room. "Our Dominion guests are not in violation of the Treaty of Bajor. They are not in the Alpha quadrant, and have sent a courier to Dominion space requesting orders, a transport home, or both. On the subject of aid from the Federation, the aid we have recieved is from regional charities, which we greatly appreciate. A full-fledged support package from the Federation itself is on hold due to security concerns and our preceived lack of a unified government. Now that our primary criminal elements have been curbed..." He casts a slightly baleful look toward Gr'raak'ta "...the UNA hopes to be better-positioned to care for our people, through trade, aid and the foundation of a civil infastructure." He looks about the room, at the bodys. "Messy, yes. I agree. But necessary. And not without historical basis, from both the histories of the Federation and the Klingon empire. And speaking of the Klingon Empire, I am pleased to report that, in the intersets of interstellar harmony, that the United Nausicaan Alliance is going to turn over half of our IKDF "guests" to the Klingon delegation."

K'net-mauri looks up a the monitor Gr'raak'ta indicates, then back to Zuh'raah'do when he starts to speak. Again, the close and careful attention. He greets the words only with a sharp and shallow nod. Snappish. But he's not going to complain about the indignities not quite subjected to his person, and something in his face reveals that he agrees with the Nausicaan's statement itself.

Avok nods slowly at the news. His arms fold over his chest; not a word spoken about the fate of the Nausicaan's simian subjects under the care of House Kang. Whether the silence originates from a lack of information or refusal to give it is unknown. It is simply silence.

S'Terik listens to the reply, giving a nod of acknowledgement upon receiving it. When all seems to be orderly again, he slowly heads back to his seat for the discussion. No emotions appear from the Vulcan throughout the rest of the meeting, and he refrains from partaking in any of the food.

Sovar joins the Vulcan Ambassador at the table.

Heller's grin re-emerges. He regards the guests with a renewed expression of camaraderie. It's almost as if he thinks the Nausicaans are being reasonable.

And so...order turns to enforcement turns to chaos and returns to order. A New Order on a New Nausicaa -- a Unified Nausicaa. Outside in Kyroa the citizens do not realize the weight of what has transpired -- but they do know that in the first time in living memory things are working. The air is cleaner, infant mortality is down, food flow with regularity, there are no more riots for food as factions battle over stolen caches. The light rails run on time, it is safe to go out at night in groups smaller then a platoon.

And there is pride again, not unsupported pride in basic primal might but in achievement, in defeating worthy foes, of getting the arrogant and elitist Federation to actually pay attention to them, and in working with some level of partnership with thier former ancient masters the Romulans.

Within the the council chamber cum slaughter house, Gr'raak'ta's cabinent are quick to layout an overview of their plans for the near future, a listing of their successes and failures and in a surprising move to some offer to give up any claims on Irdosia at all in exchange for the paltry in comparison colony start-up materials the Federation gives any colony group starting a brave new world in Federation space for each of thier held worlds and an assurance that Nausicaa will be allowed to send Trade Delegates to the next Federation Economic Summit that sets the exchange rates for the entire known area of local space. Soon though, not soon enough for some surely, the delegates are sent on their way back to the T'Lux T'Gora with the well wishes of the UNA president as well as gift baskets filled with local goods and food samples -- the offers to take home some of the heads as additional souveniers was most likely a jest.

Most Likely.