Elective Procedures

 Episode Name:  Elective Procedures

   Written By:  Fortunae

         Cast:  Baxx, Fortunae, Gellan, K'net-mauri, Meridian, S'veralis and Taevan.

  Produced By:  Starfleet

  Directed By:  Fortunae

     Aired On:  Wed Jul 23 02:43:41 2003

     Stardate:  53380.6

Time: Tue Jul 22 20:54:30 2003

Stardate: 53380.0

The Europa, an Ambassador Class starship from the 1st Fleet pulls into a standard orbit above the at times turbulant world of Occa. Aboard the comfortable vessel, Ambassador to Occa from the United Earth Government, Senator from the West of the North American Rebuplic, Alexander Martinez prepares his final briefing notes for his meeting of political important. Meanwhile, several decks down in an unoccupied officer's lounge, attached personnel to the mission Counselor Gellan and science officer Baxx, have a few hours to go over the history of Occa and it's attempt to join the Federation before during the Dominion War...

Gellan has found herself a comfortable niche in the lounge..that being a comfy couch big enough to allow her to tuck her legs up under her and spread a padd or two around.

"The present President, Vhypist," Baxx says, fumbling with his own handful of PADDs arrayed out before him where he sits cross-legged on the floor, "You've met him, haven't you? He was..." he taps at one of the PADDs absently, recalling information. "He was the Minister of Security prior to the coup and occupation and all that?"

Gellan looks up from the PADD she's reviewing herself, locates the source of the voice, and nods. "Yes. When they initially applied for Federation membership," she answers, her quiet voice carrying easily over the short distance. "He is a rather..confusing individual."

"How so?" the bolian asks, tipping his head a full ninety degrees to the right. "Outside of the host of confusing aspects of human psychology, that is. Just that he supports unification in an isolationist society?"

Gellan looks back down at her own padd, balanced in her lap, and taps at it. She frowns slightly. "That isn't strange in itself. Unification and isolationist often go hand in hand. But." She looks up breifly. "He appeared supportive of the previous President in his campaign to join the Federation. Yet..Minister Vyphist himself is, like many of the Occan people, are not fond of non-humans. It fits with his present political venue. He just strikes me as an individual of many contrasts."

"If it were not for internal contradictions, we'd be robots," Baxx chuckles, nudging two of his PADDs further apart, as if this helps his organization setup. "I suppose I will be incredibly popular when we arrive; no doubt I will have to explain 'I am a Bolian, from Bolarus IX' until I turn blue in the face... well. But you, Lieutenant -- can they discern the difference between a human and a betazoid?"

Meridian has arrived.

Gellan shrugs slightly as she answers Baxx. "Not unless they're familiear with Betazoids..or they're running a bio scan on everyone. Visually, probably not."

Baxx looks back down at his array of PADDs on the floor, taps dispiritedly at one, and then starts talking yet again. "I understand they -- the original colonials, that is -- destroyed the technology they used to get here? Talk about internal contradictions, if they hated the very thing that brought them to their new home. But now they are... lagging behind the Federation, as it were. Curious, don't you think?"

Meridian enters the room, dressed in his usual attire. He presents a certain air about him of tranquil superiority... if he was an officer it might be termed "command presence" but as a civilian it would probably best be titled "authority". He stops just inside the door, assessing the interior and its occupants before speaking. His hands come to a rest behind his back.

Gellan answers Baxx with a nod and another shrug. "Many colonists do this, actually. Its symbolic of making a new start, of not going back.." She glances up and over to the door as it opens, falling silent when Meridian enters the room. "Ambassador," she greets quietly.

Baxx looks up from where he sits and immediately shuffles up to his feet. "Ambassador, hello," he smiles, stepping over his semicircle of intelligence and putting forward his hand. "Lieutenant Gellan and I were just speaking about the subject of our mission. Have you had the same pleasure that Gellan has, to observe them in their natural setting?"

Meridian nods courteosly in greeting to both of them. "Lieutenants." In response to Baxx's question, he says quite matter of factly, "No, I have not had the pleasure." Looking at both of them for a moment, he then continues. "Ambassador Martinez has gone to the bridge to prepare for the offical hail down and request permission to land. I wanted to take the opportunity now to touch base with both of you and attempt to procure initial - and obviously brief - assessments. I regret I have not had the time to meet with both of you prior to today."

Gellan begins collecting her padds, stacking them carefully. "I'm afraid I don't have enough intellegence for a current assessment, Ambassador. I haven't visited the planet, nor spoken with any Occan representatives, since their last application for citizenship. Mister Baxx and I," she says, with a nod toward the Bolian, "were just discussing my previous visit, and President Vyphist."

"That their present government is led by a security specialist does not seem to bode well to my mind," Baxx says, glancing uncertainly from Meridian to Gellan. "Nor is it that they primarily wish to claim Terran citizenship -- grabbing for material technology without accepting any ethical developments at the same time... they're asking for culture shock."

Meridian shows no reaction as Gellan gives her excuse. A slight nod is her only real acknowledgement that he has accepted or even heard what she said. To Baxx, he smiles slightly, looks thoughtful as he contemplates the brief comments, and replies, "Excellent, Lt. Exactly the sort of snippets I was looking for. I am not looking for large-scale opinions here, just opinions and fresh view-points. Please continue on your present course, Lt. and keep me informed should you have anything else to offer."

Gellan snorts, turning her attention back to her stack of padds. Fine. Since he effectively tuned her out, she doesn't bother adding any input.

. o O Gellan thinks "My, but you are a pompass ass, aren't you."

"If I may ask, Ambassador, what do you think our scope will be on this mission?" Baxx asks, brow lifting. "I had hoped to interview people within and without their government, and if possible," and here he grins, "raid a bookstore or two. I understand they have paper binding!"

Meridian shrugs slightly, ignoring Gellan. "I am not certain, Lieutenant. Occa is... well, we shall see. Unfortunately I can not promise much more than an interesting trip."

This Space Reserved for Post Episode Editing of Off Screen Activity

Meanwhile... elsewhere in the Occan system the cloaked Ts'lux T'Gora passes along what is becoming a rather familiar course for it's crew and their captain, Lieutenant Tolsar. In the aft lounge set aside for Ambassador K'net-Mauri Va'raeh, he and his most recent in a long string of aides and his every present body guard have a few minutes of respite to collect themselves after a lengthy briefing transmission from Star Command regarding the deteriorating situation in the nearby Othan Sector before the Ambassador is scheduled to give an audience to another passenger aboard the vessel, one that perhaps he is looking forward to but about which his companions remain uninformed so far...

Space, as K'net-mauri has pointed out before, is very big and made up mostly of nothing. It is often boring. The Ambassador is quite used to that, though. Being bored on a Romulan ship is so much more pleasant than being bored on a Federation Station. K'net-mauri sits by the window at a small table, opposite Taevan and engaged in a languid game of yelbrek -- Romulan chess -- with the younger man. He's winning, in spite of appearing to be taking the game less than seriously.

S'veralis resets the weapons belt she is wearing, setteling the disruptor opposite of her blade. She shares a few words with the crew before making her way over to the table which Taevan and KM share. A light smile touches her lips as for a moment she looks over at one of the younger crew men before taking a seat, sitting quietly as so not to interuppt the players concentration.

Taevan, by contrast, is leaning forward in his seat with the utmost concentration on the game. And still, ironically enough, losing. He sits, pondering his move for a few long moments, before extending a tapered index finger to the Romulan equivalent of K'net-mauri's queen. "That," he asserts, "is a wasp." It's an inside joke, and a bemused grin crosses the younger Romulan's face as he moves a piece /just/ out of reach of the queen.

"What, is it making you nervous?" asks K'net-mauri, glancing at the queen-peice. "It won't sting you if you pretend not to notice it." That would be a lie. Without seeming to give it much thought, the Ambassador moves another peice, ignoring Taevan's retreat from his queen.

Taevan waves a hand dismissively. "Oh, I see it. And I know why it's there. To do precisely that, and intimidate me. I don't intend to let it." He captures the recently moved piece, placing one of his own tokens within striking distance of the queen.

Watching the game with a detached intrest Lis looks out the view ports for a moment after Taevan makes his move. She takes a few calming breaths slowly droppinginto one of the relaxation techniques taught to her. "Intimidation is part of the game, but not wholey the reason that piece may be there."

There is a chime at the door.

K'net-mauri casts a sidelong smile at S'veralis, and makes his peices continue their inexorable one-move-at-a-time progress across the board, ignoring the temptation of Taevan's at-risk but not particularly threatening pawn. He replies to the sound of the door chime with a short and simple Romulan affirmative.

Taevan scowls with frustration as his trap is avoided, but turns his gaze on the door as it interrupts his concentration.

S'veralis does not move as Taevan does, on her eyes go to the view port, using the slightly reflective surface to tell her what is behind her as she contemplates the possiblity of Taevans next move.

After a long moment, the door chimes again.

K'net-mauri eyes the door. "Enter," he says into the comm.

The door opens, and passing through it enters a model of Romulan Female Regal Coolness and Confidence -- from the perfect shine on her black boots, to the perfect pitch of her baldric that demonstrates her rank and branch of service in the Star Navy, to the bob hair cut specifically shaped to flash with glossy blackness when her head moves. Her features, for Romulan tastes are of the desireable but unattainable to mere mortals variety, her grace like that of a predatory cat in it gait as she moves to the center of the room clearly placing the other two Romulans aside from the Ambassador and filing them away in relevence behind her beautifully shaped yet ice cold remorseless killer eyes.

"Ambassador..." Legate Voidra says.

K'net-mauri swivels his chair to face the newcomer, the yelbrek game appearantly forgotten. He looks the woman over, appearantly unintimidated by her presence. A smile. "Legate," he replies.

Taevan turns away from his chess game to face the newcomer, hands returning to their customary spot, folded and rested on his abdomen with fingers intertwined. He inclines his head slowly in respectful greeting, echoing Mauri's word. "Legate."

S'veralis watches the Legate thru the reflection in the view port. Turning Lis looks at the woman, her dark blue eyes showing nothing of her thoughts, as she critically looks the woman up and down. If a male was to look at a female in such a way it might of been construed as the strip down look, but coming from Lis it takes on new definitions, appraisal of skills, at least those that can be detected thru the way someone moves, threat factor to her principle, and the normal mulling up of negatives of the other woman.

. o O Taevan thinks "Impressive. Most impressive. And enticing. A pity you exist to kill those like me."

Voidrai inclines her head in a respectful nod to the elderly statesman, "Centurian K'net-Mauri, it remains my honor to serve your efforts for the empire." She glances toward Taevan, and slips him the minimal of nods -- not to disrespect him, but to avoid taking away from the respect for K'net-Mauri. "I have my report on the situations you have had me monitoring in the this sector and the Narendra sector, Centurion -- or do you prefer, Ambassador?"

"I don't care," replies K'net-mauri mildly. "Centurion will certainly do. As will my name. You may sit if you like. What have you to tell me?"

The only movement from Taevan is his head as he turns to look from one to the other, his eyes staying oddly still as his neck is chosen as the vessel of choice for shifting his focus.

S'veralis watches the woman for a few moments longer, but listens to what she says. Now the game has moved from the game board to the field set by KM and the Legate.

The Legate flicks a hand out from where she stands, not taking her eyes away from the three Romulans with her as she does, and her fingers close around a chair's top - she yanks and in a smooth motion it whirls in orientation before her and then she sits in it, all in a breath, as if something practiced just for the sake of style. "Where would you like to start, Centurian? Nausicaa, Rynka or Occa?"

K'net-mauri smiles, evidently pleased. It was, after all, a rather pretty series of movements on Voidra's part. "That order seems appropriate. I believe we have time before we reach Occa."

The sudden and complete countermanding of any objections that /might/ have been voiced on the chair's part draws an almost imperceptible smile to Taevan's lips as his owl-like observations continue.

. o O Taevan thinks "I am certainly pleased that I was not born a piece of furniture."

A curt nod is the antecedent of Voidrai's subsequent revelations; "Since the Nausicaan Warlord council we have moved to prepare for the initiation of your counter-measures to the Dominion Influence Problem on Nausicaa as well as other tertiary matters there. I will list them. We have discovered the location of the Ketrecel White storage, and have turned eight different appropriatel placed Nausicaans to our will to facilitate an infiltration and sabotage operation within your suggested guidelines, only two of them are actually necessary for the operation giving us a measured room for play in the event should it come to be ordered."

"We tracked down the order of events that caused the "accidents" for our military advisors on Nausicaa before the conference and my assignment there as Station Chief. As was expected the Vorta did pinpoint our weaknesses but did not give the kill order, the Nausicaans who did were forced to injects while they were sleeping Korvaraxa Larvae, they should be hatching in a week within them and eating their way out. A painful lingering death as used the laquer to make them transporter resistant should the UNA think of that method of cure."

"We captured one of the Pra Thal Mercenaries operating in UNA space and over a few days of him being out "carousing" we successfully thoughworked him into believing Popura the Vorta was in command of the Dominion forces that killed his family on Fimdari during the war; we are still manuevering the pieces into position to arrange for Popura to visit that planet and site to allow the Andorian a chance to kill him and thus place the blame for his removal on the Federation. That is all for Nausicaa, should I move on to Rynka or do you have questions, Centurian?"

Taevan voices a question of his own, evidently not caring that he had not been invited to express them. "How will the Federation be convinced to allow the Vorta onto one of their colony worlds? They have expressed little regard for his legitimacy, so far."

S'veralis listens in not comments but allowing those with further knowledge in the game of politics to discuss it while she learns from their words and the actions that prevail in teh report.

K'net-mauri nods slowly to Voidrai. He smiles, seems about to speak, then pauses to look at Taevan and listen to his question. "Eight seems rather many," he says, "But I am sure you have it well in hand, Legate. I am pleased." A little pause and he glances at Taevan again, then back at the Tal Diann officer. The tone of his movement seems to indicate that she should answer.

"I refer to the Andorian mercenaries currently serving in UNA space on the planet Mo'chvar," the Legate clarifies.

This is evidently enough to satisfy Taevan, and he nods simply, straightening in his seat.

K'net-mauri likewise nods. He regards Voidrai with attentive interest.

Voidrai follows the cue and moves on to Rynka, "As to the situation revolving around the events on Bak'TUR and the subsequent actions by the Klingons in retaliation and their investigation regarding the parties behind the matter that have revolved around Teira -- as you directed my team and I conducted an independent inquiry into the matter, bypassing the Teirans completely and focusing our efforts on the Ferengi and the Rynkans themselves. After an analysis in transit of the Rynkan political system I opted to speed things along by moving directly on the Rynkan president and interrogating him in his personal domicile after bypassing his security measures and his presidential security. After only brief resistance, the President saw the benefits of cooperation and through the information he provided I was able to arrive at the names of the responsible parties and convince the President in cooperating with efforts to remove these elements from his government permanantly while at the same time allowing the Ferengi an opportunity to regain some modicum of good graces with the Klingons and allowing the Klingons to go in person to account for blood justice. The responsible parties will fall at the hands of the Klingons, infiltrated in by the Ferengi, who will know to do this and why by your good offices with the information I have for you to supply them. The actual responsible parties will pay, you will engineer the peace, the Klingons will go home, the Federation will be forced to be impressed by your skill and acumen, the Ferengi will owe you personally, and the cause of the Empire will go forward as is the Praetor's will. It took us about 37 hours from start to finish once we set down on the planet to execute and organize all of this, I apologize that we ran 7 hours tardy on my suggested timeframe, appropriate warning has been issued to those responsible for the delay." She waits for any questions or the signal to move on to Occa.

K'net-mauri's eyes spark, but it is with pleasure. His grin is sly and smug, a cat-got-the-cream expression. As he would say with his tendancy to old-fashioned Romulan turns of phrase, he has caught a butterfly. "You serve our Empire well," says K'net-mauri. "I will see that the fact is equally well noted."

Taevan's miniscule smile becomes a much, much broader one, though his eyes turn to K'net-mauri now.

. o O Taevan thinks "I'm not imagining it. You /are/ a genius."

S'veralis's grin becomes shark like, "The Klingons, with their strange sense of honor may even be beholden to the Empire." she comments idlely.

"Your personal attention regarding our efforts is appreciated, though we seek no glory for ourselves but only for the Empire." The politically correct response offered, the operative asks, "Shall I move to Occa, Centurion?"

The Ambassador's pleased smile takes on a further hint of amusement at that reaction. He refrains from wry comments about glory and ambition, however. Let's not be horrible to someone who has done such pleasing service so very recently. "Please," K'net-mauri replies.

Taevan controls his expression again, regarding the Legate with that mild sort of half smile half smirk.

S'veralis continues to listen once again,

. o O Taevan thinks "Let us hope you have saved the best for last, Legate."

"The preparations for all three contingency plans on Occa are in place and ready to commence upon your discretion. This visit today will allow you to personnally assess the progress in anticipation for the upcoming election and how it will be dealt with. The Tal Shava have been operating the twelve secret training camps for the Occan Facist Underground as you approved; and they have been training them on Klingon manufactured weapons. I must admit I took a bit of perhaps poetic liscense in this matter -- acting off the intelligence during the war that the Occans had been buying surplus Klingon weapons, I directed the training to use those even though Ferengi weapons would have been perhaps more entertaining in the short term as they are easily made a scape goat in any case of arms dealing. The Poetic liscense though comes from this, acting off the recent unrest in the Klingon Empire, I had the weapons supplied to the Othans by the Sta'TORuk House transferred here for disbursement to the Occan Facists. Since the Klingons refused to take any responsibility for those arms when captured, and you did not reveal the exact particulars of their composition, I found it amusing to have those be the weapons supplied for the purposes of deposing any Federation Friendly regime. Perhaps if the Federation and the Klingons had been more willing to heed your concerns about the Othan problems, I would not have been able to do this. The clever among them will eventually get the jist of my jest, but by then it will be far too late for them to make any public cry about it, their fury in the personal quarters is not really my concern."

"While we are landing, the Starfleet Intelligence Officers that we lured the Federation into sending a few months ago will be "discovered" in New Florida and in a manner that forces a "media leak" that will have an immediate effect on the arrival of the Federation delegation, we timed events so that the arrests should happen while the Terran Ambassador is giving his speech to after landing. This may result in his immediate eviction as we have arranged for the leader of the Re-patriation party, Minister Trefois to have a case of food poisoning, he should already be in the hospital as we speak, and clearly unavailable to convince the press this is all a horrible mistake. As was our plan, we have been feeding the S.I. agents false leads on several matters, including a "secret operations room" in a major municipal building in the capital that does not exist, but they will be caught with plans to the art vault in the metropolitan museum none-the-less, adding a hint of petty larceny to the main course of illegal espionage already upon them."

"Finally, we have through developed local underworld channels supplied Isolationist radicals with the necessary materials to make a move on the Terran Ambassador should he stay -- this should further strain the relations between the Federation and the Occans and perhaps the actual junta will be unnecessary in the fall out that comes. I hope this meets your expectations, Centurian."

The shark like smile returns to Lis's face at the reoprt given. "This will also lead to a conflict between the Klingon Empire and the Federation." She looks to KM with that same grin, "I know taht the Federation does not like the expansionist style the Klings have, add to this that some how Klingons are running guns into other territories, it will in someway lead them to bring a bit more force down upon the IKE, further widening the rift."

Taevan, unlike S'veralis, does not try and predict the outcome of the machinations. This has already been done more than well enough. Instead, he just looks to Mauri and smiles. "I look forward to a pleasurable trip. I only hope that I shall be able to contain my glee."

There is a long pause while the Ambassador considers this information, turning it over in his mind with a languid pleasure, like a one might look over a gem. Facets and sparkles, lovely. "I approve of your poetic liscence," replies K'net-mauri. This is really quite delicious, "I can hardly deny you a little flavour in life. I doubt subsequent fury will be of much trouble, and am happy to spare our Ferengi friends difficulty. Indeed, with that and with the rest of your report, I am well satisfied." Taevan gets a glance, "You had best do just that. I'm sure the sort of behavior about to occur is absolutely horrifying. Or at least in need of most somber dealing." Is he teasing? It's hard to say, his face is deadpan and his eyes laughing.

This space reserved for post episode off camera actions.

Some time later...
The Ambassadorial Yacht of the Europa completes it's landing operations on the wide duracrete landing pad of the New Florida space port. From the viewports of the sleek and luxuriously appointed vessel, the literal throngs of Occan citizens can be seen cheering and applauding in welcome of their first official visit from the government of their native world as opposed to the interstellar multi-species amalgam of which it is a founding member. Far above, in orbit, Ambassador Meridian is relegated to the sidelines as an observer, unable to land personally until the Federation is invited to send an ambassador down to speak with the Occan pro-tem government or it's elected successor.

Ambassador Alexander Martinez is a man of great personal charm and charisma, a native of the San Diego/Tijuana Metroplex in the southern coastal region of the North American Republic, he has risen far for a man in his mid-thirties in one of the most competative friendly political arenas in the Federation -- after all, the government he serves sends the Human Ambassador to the Federation, a position he is admits to aspire to without hesitation. Within moments of meeting the Counselor he has plied her with smooth praise and an undercurrent of flirtacious banter while getting her first hand account of her previous visit here, and with Baxx it was all about how the science officer could facilitate a smooth team effort as they lend him technical support in what is about to be his move from the provincial leagues to the big game of Interstellar Diplomacy.

"So, we'll debark together, they'll be some shaking of hands and Lieutenant Baxx if you could carry the symbolic gift from Earth to Occa for me until I need to hand it over that would be great. Counselor, you keep a open mind to any plotting amongst the Vhypist party while I meet and great and then I'll go into the prepared speech for the landing. After that we should move to the Hall of Government down town via motorcade, and then inside to make another speech to their gathered government and then we go and have a private meal with the leader of the Re-Patriation party. Any questions on that? You two ready to make history?"

"I'll be content, sir, to watch it unfold," Baxx says, lifting the giant globe of Earth. His tricorder and PADDs are strapped to his belt, and he quickly finds that the only convenient way to hold the 'ceremonial gift' is with both hands, the massive blue sphere neatly eclipsing his own blue head.

Gellan has divested herself of all but a single padd, nestled into a belt holster next to a tricorder. She nods to Martinez with a bit of a smile, her hands relaxed at her sides, though she glances sideways to Baxx. "You realize they may have an adverse reaction to Lieutenant Baxx?" She smiles again, quickly. "No offence intended, of course. But they are still somewhat..xenophobic."

"Indeed I did consider that, but it's like this. Racism and misdirected Nationalism helped lead to the disasters that almost made we of Earth extinct. It was only because of help from our neighbors -- Vulcan, Alpha Centauri in particular, Tellar and Andoria, that we recovered from that near extinction and were able to spread to the starts ... including to right here. Earth, is cosmopolitan. Earth is not just the cradel of humanity, Earth and it's Terran colonies are not just about and for humanity. If they want to claim they are citizens of Earth, they need to realize from the very start that Earth is a planet of /many/ native species now, perhaps only one is indigenous, but I have friends who's species started on far off planets but were fifth generation earth born citizens themselves. It's time to wake up and smell the 24th century if they want to cash in on the heritage that they are claiming is their due. Earth, doesn't need them, but we'd like to reapproach with them -- the Federation needs them, they are strategically located, but Earth... we have room to say more clearly, it's our way or no way because our "Planetary government" is actually the government for hundreds of worlds, all this aside from the Federation overbody. I am thinking it's all going to work out just fine." Martinez flashes a dazzling smile and exudes confidence and pleasure at what is to come next.

Gellan smiles again, this time a good deal more relaxed, and nods. "Very well thought out, Ambassador, and of course you are correct."

"No offense taken," comes Baxx' voice from somewhere around Argentina. As he shifts his grip, Earth experiences a slight orbital eccentricity. "And if I may be so bold, we Bolians have to be one of the least intimidating member races of the Federation, at least to a human. Better me than something truly terrifying... and if I do say so myself, I am far more appealing to look at than the Cardassians and Jem H'dar that they have seen most recently."

Martinez affords Baxx a smile and says, "If they underestimate a Bolian on appearance, they are missing the mark. Bolians have a well developed warrior culture, the basis of your baldness I believe; a fine maritime history, and a frightening ability to make any team that much better just by joining. That's why I'm so happy to have you carrying my world in your competant hands." The ambassador winks amiably and then takes a deep breath, "Here we go."

Hitting the button to cycle open the doors, he allows a balmy waft of sub-tropical heat to wash into the airlock laden with a scent of fauna near and far and the unmistakable odor of the duracrete tarmac itself. The roar of the crowd follows and without any further hesitation he strides down the steps, two steps at a time, waving at the crowds with a broad gesture of his arm and introducing a distinct bounce to his step as he moves down the extended red carpet toward the bandstand where Vhypist officials await his arrival. He doesn't look back, he expects the Starfleet officers to be right behind him and bounds up the steps of the platform holding up both arms in a shaking gesture to the crowd even as the Earth National Anthem is played out by the large brass band assembled for the purpose. He quickly takes the initiative to glad hand each of the Vhypist officials in reach, turning with uncanny skill each time to allow for the snap of the photo opportunity, and as soon as the music swells at the end of the rendition he takes the microphone from the stand before a startled Vhypist himself can speak and he bellows out - "Hello Occa! Earth sends it's greetings!" There is a roar. "I'm Ambassador Alexander Martinez!" More cheering and a confused frown from Vhypist as he looks at the younger man with undisguised apallment. "We come in Peace!" More cheering and laughter at the old Earth joke about aliens. It's been only minutes and the crowd is clearly falling as putty into his hands, and the host government seems torn between joining in captured by the man's vim and energy or struggling to find some way to take control back of this media event.

Baxx chuckles as he walks down the steps, a giant Earth with legs in Starfleet slacks. "Leave it to the diplomat to tell the sociologist about how great his own damn race is," he notes to no one besides the miniature people in Brazil, which is where his lips are currently mashed against.

Gellan walks sedately next to Baxx, trailing in the Ambassador's impressive wake. As they approach the stand, where Martinez has apparently taken over, her black eyes scan over the officials gathered there on the stand. And come to rest on the familiar face of Vhphist. "Some things apparently don't change," she mutters softly to Baxx, though she doesn't elaborate, instead flashing a smile to the President and others seated with him.

Martinez continues, "It was a long trip out here. But a trip well worth it when I see the beautiful city that you have built here and the warmth of you fellow children of Earth!" The crowd cheers again and he keeps right on going, "Many years ago, your ancestors set out from Earth like I did, full of hope, full of dreams, full of spirit and the will to build for themsevles a new place in the stars. They carried with them a long and rich heritage, a culture that has blossomed in the current era to fill world upon world, and dare I say -- they succeeded!" The torrent of adulation continues, "You've built up, you've cut your teeth, you've suffered and you've struggled and you've forged your own identity and now... very soon, you embrace again the principals of democracy and the will of the people given voice that have made in you the seeds of greatness grown! You reach out to us, and we reach back -- brothers, sisters, counsins, family! I can't tell you what an honor it is to be the one sent to greet you from the cradle of our species. Already I can see that my scheduled stay will not be long enough to fully appreciate the work you have done here. Thank you. Thank you for inviting me, thank you for your offer to share your history with us and allow us to share again a common history with you! And let's give a big cheer for the man who has guided you toward this auspicious change in your place in the galaxy, let's hear it for President /Pro-Tem/ Vhypist!" He turns and applauds at the sour expressioned Vhypist, forcing him to manifest a gracious smile of his own or be caught not doing so before the cameras and masses. He leans closer to Vhypist, moving the microphone out so it can't be heard and quietly says to the man, "Now is the time for you to play ball and play to the crowd and I'll make sure you get a nice invitation to speak on the cultural exposition circuit once you leave office, cause pal, you aren't long for the big chair." He then directly moves the microphone to Vhypist's face, leaving him no chance to retort privately...

Baxx, or perhaps the people of the Amazon Basin, groan softly behind the walking globe. As it's plain that the ceremoninal gift will not be changing hands anytime soon, Baxx bends over to deposit it on the stage before him, giving the globe a playful spin as he straightens and looks out over the masses.

Gellan makes a soft choking sound. Wide eyes drift from Martinez, to Vhypist, and back to Martinez again, her expression somewhere between concerned and amused, though certainly approving. Watching Baxx deposit the globe on the stage, she grins at him faintly, quickly hiding it, and turns her head to look out over the cheering crowd.

Vhypist says into the microphone, looking out at the masses and more importantly the cameras .. his forced smile is barely more than a grimace. "Yes, well, we welcome the delegate from Earth to Occa and hope that during your visit it will become clear how our great but seperate paths to history can exist mutually yet exclusively from each other, lest the dreams of our ancestors to form a home free of the dictates of a far off and essentially divergent cultural philosophy be betrayed in the pursuit of a short term step up in material gain and the cost of our national soul." He steps away from the Ambassador and spins the globe just spun by Daxx saying, "Just as this globe is a pale representation of the true world it maps out, so would Occa become just one small globe of many in the offices of the Earth government in New York. A free and seperate Occa is a full world with all that implies and all that carries -- a repatriated Occa is just one pretty bauble of many of equal tertiary importance to a government overshadowed on it's own world by the monolithic presence of the ever expansionistic and diversity killing homogenizing culture of the United Federation of Planets."

He levels a gaze at the young ambassador, "Still we welcome you, despite all the risks to our identity and national purpose that you so blithely put aside in favor of your desire to make us just one of you, instead of the people we have earned the right to be. Thank you all for coming out, now we must go and introduce the young man to the government that has always been yours and answers to no other far off potentates." And Vhypist cuts off the microphone and gestures with curt formality for Alexander and his retinue to follow him toward the the awaiting motorcade even as the crowd reacts to his most recent words in a cacaphonic mixture of support, confusion and derision respectively.

Baxx, careful not to stick his alien nose into this business, gives the crowd a farewell wave along with the rest of the delegation and follows after Vhypist and company.

Gellan watches the crowd a bit more, her smile fading somewhat as she glances back to the stage. Concern is plainly written in her stance and her expression. Like Baxx, she tosses what she hopes is a cheery wave at the crowd, and sets off to follow Martinez and the Occan leader to the motorcade.

Baxx sidles up next to Gellan as they walk. "I'm not very experienced with betazoid skills," he says, "but how much genuine support did you feel for the Ambassador and the President, respectively? I'm trying to decide if the crowd was herded in, perhaps paid..."

Gellan glances to Baxx breifly, though her eyes tend to stay on the Occan leader and the Earth Ambassador. "They weren't paid," she murmers softly to him in answer, and then smiles slightly. "The support was genuine." As for whom, she leaves unsaid, prefering not to risk being overheard.

And it is at the motorcade where things suddenly take an unexpected turn when a woman, clearly a broadcast journalist as she's trailed by a holovision camcorderman through the police that have kept an otherwise unobstructed route to the motorcade from the stage, moves directly into Alexander Martinez's path and asks over her jutting microphone, "Ambassador, what is your reaction to the news that two prefessional espionage operatives were just arrested by New Florida SCD right here in the capital with obvious evidence of their unlawful spying upon senior members of the government and military and what is alledged to be damning evidence of a plan to steal art treasures from the New Florida Municipal Art Museum?"

Martinez is caught off guard, but only for a moment before he responds, "I would say, that's an interesting story but one I can hardly give any credence to, you may have noticed I just arrived."

The reporter is not dissuaded though, "Your arrival not withstanding, this shocking situation is proof that the Federation has not respected the clearly stated policy of the Occan goverment that it wished only limited contact with other star powers and only by invitation. How can you justify your operatives conducting intelligence gathering operations on Occa in light of this policy which the Federation has claimed to respect, is this another example of the cowboy operations of Starfleet demonstrated so recently by the capture of Starfleet Intelligence operatives on Nausicaa? Is it a standard policy for your government to be running illegal intelligence missions into the affairs of neighboring powers?"

Martinez responds, "I cannot speak about the alleged matter in question at this time as it has just come to my attention, nor can I speak about the Nausicaan matter. I represent the government of Earth, which has a representative on the Federation Council, one of many, but is not directly responsible for setting policy of Federation level governmental activities nor those of the Starfleet. I can say that if these allegations are true, I would personally denounce them and take them up with the local Federation Ambassador at my earliest convenience as well as sending a strong message of disapproval to my President on Earth asking him to issue a statement through our ambassador to the Federation condeming any such behaviors."

"How do your respond to the allegations that this was a deliberate effort on the part of the Federation to keep Earth and Occa from arriving at their own seperate relationship?" She asks.

Martinez smiles, "Well, that's simple, I don't. The very idea is ludicrous, our relationship with the Federation government just doesn't work that way."

She parrys, "How can you say that when less than a decade ago the Federation President put Earth under Martial Law under the control of then Chief of Starfleet Operations Admiral Leyton suspending the civil liberties of your citizens without even considering if your own planetary goverment supported such actions. Isn't it true that because Earth is the capital of the Federation, Federation policy and needs can at any time supercede those of your hollow planetary government and in reality your world is run by the Federation political military complex?"

Martinez frowns, "That is a complex issue which I would be happy to comment on at length at another time, perhaps you can schedule me to sit in on a talk show with your network during my visit, in the mean time I really must keep my appointment with your goverment downtown."

At this point, Vhypist interjects, "Yes, the Ambassador must keep his appointment, but I'm afraid in light of this recent development, Starfleet is persona non-grata until we finish our investigation into these terrible matters. Your Starfleet staff must return to the ship and your vessel must leave Occan space immediately -- you of course are welcome to remain but if you feel you must go as well, we understand and thank you for your coming, as short as the stay may be."

Gellan turns suspicious eyes on Vhypist, though her words are for Martinez. "Ambassador..we cannot leave you unescorted. It isn't safe here." She frowns, and that frown is directed at the President. "I do hope this isn't another attempt at subterfuge like our last visit, Mister President. Especially in light of the fact that you were so determined to hide it that you butchered your own people." At the moment, she isn't concerned that the reporter might overhear her. So much the better.

Baxx frowns at the woman and her allegations, more confused than anything else, but the scowl deepens when the President blithely orders he and Gellan offworld. The protest "but I just got here" is written plainly across his face. He looks from the enraged Gellan to the Ambassador uncertainly.

. o O Vhypist thinks "Don't think I forget you who you are you mind witch. Take your dog and pony boy with you if you care about him, and shut your goddamn mouth or I may accuse you of spying on me telepathically have you arrrested and taken to a dark stank hole that your kind no doubt belongs in."

"That subterfuge you speak of was a product of my predecessor, as you well know as you were a party to discovering it and I was just as horrified to learn the truth as you were, as I have said many times since that date. Clearly proof that trying too hard to join your network of collaborating worlds drives some to madness in the need to impression your intolerant and narrow vision for who may join you and who may not. What is your decision Ambassador, because your ship is leaving in 10 minutes or it's not going to be leaving at all?" Vhypist responds then demands.

"I will stay, I was sent here by Earth to answer your invitation, and as the representative of the terran government I will stay. Stay and do what I came for, stay and find the truth of these allegations and stay and make sure /all/ parties learn the truth of them. I can't say the timing isn't suspiciously inconvenient, but as a group of civilized people we will all benefit for an exploration of the true facts behind this matter. Lieutenants, go back to you ship. I am here under diplomatic credentials which means that I am a safe and valued and protected guest of this regime, surely they will make every effort to keep my person sacrosanct in light of the galactic rules of diplomatic credentials. Go ahead, and hurry back as soon as this matter is clarifed and resolved." Alexander stands tall, he stands proud and unintimidated. Unbowed, and the crowd seems to respect that despite the sudden shocking change of events. Occan soldiers step between Alexander and Vhypist and the Bolian and the Betazoid, one even relieving the Science officer of the glove he carried, the with no expression of accepting any arguement point them back toward the tarmac, and the police begin to instruct the crowds to disperse even as Martinez is guided into a limosine and is lost from view... with little other resort at the moment, Gellan and Baxx find themselves returning to the Ambassador's Yacht from the Europa...

Gellan just shakes her head at Vhypist's rebuttal, a dark eyebrow lifting as she picks up stray, angry thoughts from the President. She makes a feeble attempt to protest being separated, but finding no choice in the matter, watches the limo speed away even as the police are steering them back to the tarmac. She sighs softly as she boards the Europa, muttering something about delusional superiority, and not with a freindly vein.

"Well," Baxx says as he walks back along the stage to the yacht. He spears Paris with a finger and sends the globe spinning as he passes. "Well. Well. Well!" The bolian's shoulders knot together as he walks up the steps and into the craft. He lifts his PADD from his belt and taps at it. "Twenty-six minutes. Shortest mission I've ever been on."

And within a short time later, the U.S.S. Europa has broken orbit and is making best possible speed away from Occa... and below, in a secret training camp where a cloaked Romulan scout vessel is parked -- in particular in a camouflaged tent where the Romulan Ambassador confers about details with Colonel Aramis -- the image of the vaunted Federation Starfleet given the rush off the planet and out of the system provokes a very special sound indeed.

Unmitigated Laughter.

--- Fin ---