Elective Operations
Episode Name: Elective Operations Written By: Fortunae Cast: Baxx, Fortunae, Gellan, K'net-mauri, Kotesh, Poole, Spider and Taevan. Produced By: Starfleet Directed By: Fortunae Aired On: Fri Aug 08 20:05:21 2003 Stardate: 53420.7
Time: Tue Aug 05 20:51:29 2003
Stardate: 53413.6
It is as lovely afternoon as many can recall in the city of New Florida on the planet of Occa. The Federation Delegation to observe the elections arrived without incident or complaint from the Vhypist government as they were kindly provided a ride along with Ambassador K'net-Mauri Va'raeh and his delagation, also attending as neutral parties to observe this curious form of democracy in action. After arriving, the Starfleet group consisting of JOC branch leader Commander Poole, Counselor Gellan and Social Sciences officer Baxx were taken via luxury ground car to rendezvous with Terran Ambassador to Occa Martinez, while the Romulans were taken by their own Luxury ground car to their reserved quarters at the "Presidential" hotel and their suite with a clear view of the Palace of Government from their balcony. For both groups the early part of the day was primarily filled with tours of the voting facilities, the opportunity to speak with voters interested in speaking with them, and meetings with various members of the different parties running for office.
The Romulans were primarily of interest to Minister Poitrain the leader of the Omni Party, while the Starfleet group in the escort of Ambassador Martinez were focused on by Minister Trefois of the Re-Patriation party and Minister Oreleis of the Federation party. Peppering the background noise, the sounds of the people toting the values of their own party of choice in marches up and down the streets under the watchful eye of the municipal police and the Occan Military; and on the airwaves the machine-gun chatter of the local news services broadcasting soundbites, exit polls updates and speeches by various pundits and the party leaders themselves.
The presence of the military openly located at key intersections is explained to both sets of visitors as an unfortunate precaution to prevent any rioting or acts of terrorism to upset the process of free elections -- particularly in light of recent events. Those events are not of course specified but easily inferrable...
Location: Exterior deck of the Presidential Hotel where the Romulan Ambassador sits taking in a moment of peace from his official duties, his hawkish gaze overlooking the scurried activities of the humans and their riot of civil government in action. Taevan enters the deck from the suite with two cups of tea, offering one to the Ambassador who was apparently expecting same...
K'net-mauri accepts his cup from Taevan, sniffs it, and looks out over the streets again. "Thank you. A charming scrum, isn't it?" he inquires absently.
K'net-mauri accepts his cup from Taevan, sniffs it, and looks out over the streets again. "Thank you. A charming scrum, isn't it?" he inquires absently.
Taevan follows Mauri's gaze with a slight nod, his own teacup wrapped between interlaced fingers. "They had Romulan tea. They can't be /all/ bad."
K'net-mauri laughs gently. "Almost nothing is -all- bad," he says. "They have their value."
Taevan takes a long sip from the teacup, moving to stand a pace beside the Ambassador's chair. "Only if we can make use of it."
K'net-mauri nods to Taevan. "Indeed," he says. "But for now, we wait only to see their choice." His tone is wry, amused.
Taevan sighs, almost dejectedly. "Such a pity when they cannot be trusted to make the choice that is best for them."
K'net-mauri smiles at that, vaguely, and sips his tea. "Most people cannot," he says. "Perhaps a pity, but to be expected."
Down the street right past the Romulans, a Vector Thrust gunship zooms by causing the tea cups to vibrate in its wake, banking left over the Palace of Government before moving off toward the south of the city.
Taevan looks first at the gunship, then at his hand, upon which a few drops of tea are running down the side. Another sigh, and the Adjutant lifts the back of his hand, and licks off the tea. Because, say what you will about the capability of Occans to choose the right leader, they can make a good cup of tea.
K'net-mauri watches the ship rather thoughtfully but without alarm.
Taevan says with dry amusement, "Perhaps the Klingons have come to back the 'bellow until you get your way' party?"
A young Romulan officer exits onto the deck saying, "I apologize for intruding. You have a call from Legate Voidrai on secure communications Mister Ambassador." She offers the small hand set and receiver to Taevan.
K'net-mauri chuckles. "No. I am sure they are far more supportive of the 'cringe when Klingons bellow' party. It will serve their interests better. They support it everywhere. I am sure you have noticed." He looks at the young officer when she arrives, but lets her wait for him to finish speaking, then nods at what she says. "Ah. Thank you."
Taevan inclines his head to the officer, takes the items, offers up a respectful "Jolan'tru," and offers the handset to K'net-mauri.
The young woman withdraws after completing her task, lest she draw politically backed ire. She only nods to the parting from Taevan and slips back inside with some relief apparent on her features.
K'net-mauri accepts the handset, speaks a clipped Romulan acnowledgement into it.
The voice on the other side of the communicator cannot be heard, but speaks to him in a rapid clipped cut of the Romulan tongue favored for military communications.
Taevan picks out a certain cloud, and studies it.
K'net-mauri listens to the voice, raises a brow. "Well," he says into the handset, "That explains some things. What have you done with them?"
K'net-mauri inquires over the comm-set, "What evidence have you?"
Nice cloud. Pretty cloud. Discreet adjutant.
K'net-mauri's eyes glint with bitter irony. He tells the communicant, "Of course they are. In any case, you are quite correct; we may not have time to nursemaid these today. Aside from the repercussions of their unwelcome presence here. If you have learned what you can learn, you have my authorization to dispose of them as you suggest."
On the street below, a high school marching band strikes up another round of the Earth National Anthem.
A faint scowl crosses Taevan's features at the music, but now he's focusing for the most part on Mauri's conversation.
K'net-mauri nods, though the other half of his conversation can't see it. "Very well. Jolan'tru, Legate."
Taevan waits patiently for Mauri to finish.
K'net-mauri disconnects his communication and sets the handset aside. He sips his tea and looks back out over the street.
Taevan asks expectantly, "Well?"
K'net-mauri looks at Taevan, "We have discovered some visitors here. Your charming counterpart from the UNA among them. Salvaging Dominion equipment. But they are. Occupied." His smile is unpleasant. Probably whatever occupies Heller and his friends is even more so.
Scantily and festively clad youths begin an elaborate bout of gymnastics and dancing as the band plays below on the street.
Taevan looks down to the street, his face a mask of utter disdain as he asks, "Can we use them, or are they merely an inconvenience?"
K'net-mauri grins at Taevan, a slow and wolfish grin. "They are an inconvenience, for now. But any tool does seem a little heavy to carry before it becomes useful. I am sure we will be pleased to know what we have learned from these bold fools."
"I would have much preferred them to be in Starfleet uniform," Taevan muses. "A pity we cannot find a few, dress them up, and reveal the interlopers to the populace."
K'net-mauri smiles. "They are near enough, if it comes to that."
Another Vector Thrust gunship roars into view coming over the roof the Hotel, rattling windows in it's passing, but the rattles set up by the Ambassador's last statement have a much deeper reach...
...meanwhile, in a suite on the other side of the Square of Government, likewise with a lovely patio deck beyond the french doors hung with elegant curtains, Ambassador Martinez, Commander Poole, Counselor Gellan and Lieutenant Baxx have a short break for Tea and Scones with raspberry preserves and cream cheese after the departure of Minister Oreleis and his charming wife.
"It's unfortunate that the numbers aren't reversed, it would be better if the Federation party won, I've been trying to explain that if they join the Federation they get a seat on the Federation Council, if they join the Earth Government they only get representation through the Terran Ambassador to the Federation. It doesn't seem to be sinking in that in the long run the Federation joining would be the better path to explore," says Ambassador Martinez after a sip of his tea.
Having had her fill of tea during the visit of Minister Oreleis and his charming wife, Poole is gazing out at the street, rather than imbibing the refreshing liquid. She is listening to Ambassador, however, and interjects her input, "They can always decide to join later... if they truly wish to. I think trying to repatriate themselves with Earth is quite admirable in and of itself."
. o O Poole thinks "And that woman's hair was amazing!"
Baxx salts his tea a bit more and sips at it experimentally. "Where do they get this -tea-?" he mutters, then adds louder, "Have you been able, Ambassador, to guage public opinion -outside- of what some government representative tells you? I'm curious to know how divisive their politics are, given the instability of their present government." That said, he tries another, slightly larger sip, wrinkling his nose at the recalcitrant tea.
Gellan is sipping at her last cup of tea, the cup being nearly empty. "Its a stepping stone," she interjects quietly. "After the violent riots that occured during their last bid for Federation membership..at least taking this route might make such a move in the future more welcome."
Martinez nods in concession to Poole's observation, and to Gellan's before responding to Baxx. "I have taken the opportunity to speak with citizens, even going so far as to stopping my motorcade at a random corner and going into a business and taking on the spot polls, much to the disgruntlement of the security they put on me now. It would seem that their politics were actually quite stable for the last few centuries until Federation recontact.. then a split grew between reclaiming their right to Federation membership and all it entails and keeping their own seperate identity. This of course was further complicated by the infilitration of the Dominion into the scenario and them backing a military coup posing as Isolationist, which is amusing if you consider that Vhypist himself was an isolationist by personal temperment. So the Dominion takes over the planet, and the Military collaborates and then the Alliance comes in here and puts the Dominion to the task and puts Vhypist back in office as the Protem President because he was the most senior surviving member of the elected government of a President who wanted to join the Federation... and then he promptly directs Starfleet and the Alliance to withdraw AND pardons much of the senior military staff involved in the collaboration. I would say that makes things rather dynamic but not necessarily down on the level of the people's will. More to the point, it's likely those riots and problems found during the Counselor's first visit were engineered by Dominion provacateurs."
Gellan looks at Martinez with a measure of surprise. "Dominion involvement that early?" With a mild frown, she gives her head a shake. "I've been of the mind recently that Vhyphist himself could have been behind it. Or at least aware of it." She pauses, taking another drink from her tea thoughtfully, before adding, "While he wasn't exactly outgoing toward us when we initially visited, he was just too proud to show off planetary security to our security officers. Took them right into the middle of of the riots, and then ordered his officers to all but slaughter unarmed civilians in the streets. The same civilians he now leads." Her shoulder lifts in a mild shrug. "I just think there's more to him than what we see."
"I anticipate the Isolationists trying something, given their previous track record," Poole says, reigning in her gaze and directing it towards the Ambassador fully. She nods in agreement with Gellan, "I hate to be a pessimist, but I am trying to be practical here."
The bolian settles back into his seat, fingers wrapped lightly around the teacup. "I find the Occan situation difficult due to the difficulty in discerning the -people's- desires from the government's. Quite frankly, from what I have been able to gather, Occa doesn't seem ready -- politically, ethically, culturally -- to enter the galactic arena. But if those riots were staged, that does put a different light on things."
Fortunae says, "What do you think the Isolationsists might try, Commander, with we and the Romulans here watching on? The Omni party favors relations with the Federation, the Klingons and the Star Empire... I would hope that the Romulans would at least favor that party and with all of us here watching, and with us the rest of the sector... would the Isolationists try something rash?"
Poole answers softly, reaching for her tea now. "The Romulans don't like to share, so I can't see how they would truly favor the Omni party..." Sipping at her tea, she continues, "And desperate men do not care for the consequences of their actions. Hence the presence of the Dominion on this planet. Hence the rioting. It is logical to assume that -something- will happen to keep Occa from stability, Mr. Ambassador."
Baxx wrinkles his nose, either at the tea or the commentary. "The Isolationists constitute a significant minority, by all accounts, enough to influence politics to an extreme degree. Remember, this is a legislative as well as an executive election: even if a Federation or Repatriot executive is elected, the Isolationists are guaranteed to control enough legislative power to influence, and probably stymie, any attempts to establish relations with the rest of the galaxy. Not to mention, an Isolationist agenda paired with anything resembling oppressive policy immediately appears to the people to be hiding better opportunities offworld. I do not think that we have anything to fear from the Isolationists."
Gellan nods her agreement with Poole. "One thing we've seen repeatedly about this planet, is that things tend to be other than they appear." She lifts her teacup with one hand, gesturing around her at the luxuirous room the group is sitting in. "This is reminiscent of their last invitation for us to visit. Rolling out the red carpet, so to speak, in the hopes of blinding us to the reality of is really going on."
Maritinez smiles somewhat wryly, "I can't say that I overly enjoyed my own Red Carpet treatment all things considered."
"No more than Vhypist enjoyed your arrival, no doubt," Baxx says darkly. "Do you make it a habit to threaten those in power before you even offer them your name, Ambassador?"
Martinez says, "It wasn't a threat, it was an opportunity for his future. Besides, it was his party thugs that abducted me and the right people were informed of that unofficially. Still, no, I don't make a habit of threatening those in power, generally the people I meet wouldn't need to be threatened. Vhypist is a bully though, and bullies are best dealt with directly in my experience. Of course, I have learned from what followed." He smiles, "Do you make a habit out of scolding senior government officials? If not, you should consider it."
Poole perks an eyebrow at Baxx's revelation, looking at Martinez curiously. Of course, she inserts herself in that subsection of the conversation, in a gently and faux cheery chiding, "Lieutenant Baxx, you'll watch your tone around the Ambassador." That said, she says, "If I were to hazard a guess, then will attempt to do some last minute discrediting of the Repatriation and Federation parties."
Baxx smirks softly into his teacup. "Yes, sir," he says, without directing it to either.
Gellan nods again, while leaning forward to set her now empty cup of tea on the table. "I've no doubt they will," she says, echoing Poole's sentiments. "I expect them to pull the suspected Federation spies out from under the carpet again, at the least."
Baxx sets his teacup down. "Wouldn't it be helpful if Starfleet Intelligence weren't here in the first place," he mutters, then stands and steps to the railing to overlook the streets below.
Martinez "They've been working hard on that since I arrived here. Those two dead Intelligence officers, something stinks with that. What were they doing here? I suppose I'm not cleared for that, am I. And then my abduction... and the broadcasts about suspected Starfleet actions here after the ban and the guy who's face they were broadcasting everywhere to be on the look out. Is that really a Starfleet officer or did they make him up? And my god the amount of commentary about how the Federation war with the Dominion, provoked by the Federation not respecting the borders of the Dominion in the first place, lead to countless loss of life here and around the galaxy and though they liberated Occa that is like shooting someone then putting on a pressure bandage and expecting it to be alright. They are /really/ good at PR spin, I will give Vhypist that, but I've been down in the media trenches defeating what I could. I think the Isolationists are going down."
Poole goes rather suddenly very quiet and looks elsewhere. She looks livid, and as if she's trying to control whatever it is inside of her that's making her so.
. o O Poole thinks "Ungrateful... Thea... Kusto... Rann.... Josh... we almost died freeing these bastard cousins of Earth. And the only thing I've seen that's made it worth it is that woman's hair."
. o O Poole thinks "Well, maybe not the only thing."
Baxx sets his wrists on the railing, his teacup clinking against the metal. "You project a Repatriot win, then, perhaps supported by the Federation proponents?" he asks, voice neutral.
. o O Poole feels a rather sudden spike of anger and resentment that is quickly controlled and stifled.
Gellan lifts an eyebrow slightly, looking at the Ambassador curiously. "Which Starfleet officer might that be?" She smiles slightly, leaving the rest of his statement uncommented upon. Her eyes drift to Poole breifly, a look of understanding passing her way.
Martinez smiles, "That is what the numbers suggest though it's not a shoe in like it seemed to be a few weeks ago, the Federation party and by some extension the Re-Patriatian party have taken some serious hits over the last few weeks, but since I stayed here instead of running home, I've been able to block or ameliorate much of that damage just by putting in 18 to 20 hour days and keeping my grinning mug and voice in the public's attention." He gets up after offering the counselor a one moment finger and steps over to his "desk" where he opens up a valise and pulls out a photo which he brings to Gellan. "Here you go, one toted Starfleet Assassin and Terrorist with a penchant apparently for doing Starfleet dirty work from Occa to those local planets that the Ferengi have tricked into economic servitude." He then takes his seat and sips his tea, "It comes down to this Lieutenant Baxx -- I really believe in the better nature of people, and if the people get to chose, I hope they will chose progress and openness and not the isolated stagnancy of more recent years."
"People are as gullible as they are inherantly good," Baxx says, turning from the railing to examine the picture over Gellan's shoulder.
"People are as gullible as they are inherantly good," Baxx says, turning from the railing to examine the picture over Gellan's shoulder. "True democracy requires a free and unbiased media, something that this planet most assuredly does not have. The people of Occa are quite trapped by their governors -- in whose good natures I do not trust."
"Free and unbiased media, eh?" Poole asks, rejoining the conversation with a smirk. She notes the look from Gellan and nods once, brushing at her hair as if to say she's okay. Leaning forward in her chair, she too looks towards the provided photo.
Gellan accepts the picture from Martinez, thanking him with a smile. Looking down at the image in her hand, the smile quickly fades. "Holy Rings," she murmers softly, for the picture is of none other than Lt Dylan Golden, 419's RRT commander. The photo is prompty handed off to Poole. "There's nothing free or unbiased about this. It's worse than propoganda."
Poole 's smile widens, though she hides it with one hand while she holds the photo in the other. "My, my, handsome chap," she says, tongue-in-cheek, before setting the photo down on the table in front of her.
Baxx doesn't recognize the picture, so answers Gellan, "Exactly so. There is no way to verify the veracity of their claims regarding this man. It certainly would not be prudent to trust the local media, but I am also not going to indulge in the cultural chauvinism to disregard their allegations completely, either."
Martinez looks openly surprised. "You mean this is a real person? I thought for sure it was just a propaganda generated image. Well somebody sure doesn't like him here, clearly. Good thing he wasn't on that, ahem, rescue party you sent down or I'm sure they would have picked you all up and we'd be sharing a quaint torture table." He rubs his side absently, where his cigarette burns are almost finished healing now.
"I would have liked to see them lay a hand on me, or any one of you," Poole says rather loudly, her smile fading as she sips her tea. "We are Starfleet officers, after all. The best of the best the galaxy has to offer. Occa has nothing that compares."
Gellan glances over to Baxx. "Its easy enough to deny their claims," she says sourly. To Martinez she nods. "It is propoganda, Ambassador. This officer was one of those who liberated them from the Dominion. Grateful lot, arent they." Angry now, she sits back in her seat and folds her arms over her chest, nodding in aggreement with Poole once again.
Baxx glances at Poole, and refrains from muttering "Speaking of cultural chauvinism." Instead he sips his tea.
At that moment the phone rings. Martinez slips out of his seat and picks up the archaeic device flipping the screen up so he can see who he is speaking to. "Hello? Ah Minister Trefois how may I help you?" He listens, "Certainly we would be honored to come down to your campaign headquarters and watch the end of the election results. Indeed we have noted your party is leading in the polls. Do you expect Minister Oreleis to throw his weight behind you?" He chuckles. "We'll be over shortly, thank you Minister." He hangs the phone up and flips the screen down.
We have been invited to watch the results of the election with the Re-Patriatian party. As you no doubt heard, I accepted."
Outside, a Vector Thrust gunship prowls slowly across the square, and the pilot in the rear seat of the two seat cockpit, seeing Poole through the window, flips up his visor and winks at her saucily while blowing her a kiss. He then slips the visor back down and the craft pulls away at increasing speed.
Baxx sets his teacup on the table and straigtens the lay of his uniform, apparently ready without need for comment.
Poole nods to Martinez, "Alright, Mr. Ambassador... I suppose we should be on our way?" As the gunship passes, her gaze does sweep up that way and she notes the pilot with a grin, tossing the man a friendly wave. "I'll have to tell Thea about these gunships... interesting vehicles."
Gellan stands up from her chair, a wry grin appearing breifly. "They are, aren't they," she says lightly. "That was a rather interesting flyby, wouldn't you say?"
Elsewhere...
Colonel Aramis slams his fist on a solid wood desk and wheels around, his mass blocking out the view of the person at whom he directs his angry statement, "The election results are not in line with your projections! This Martinez poof was supposed to be *gone* after he was released from the terrorists, instead he has been destroying our momentum in the media campaign. I thought you people were supposed to be professionals! This is intolerable, and don't think I won't be including your incompetance in my report to the Centurian-Ambassador."
A velvety smooth female voice responds from beyond the Colonel's shoulder, "Colonel Aramis, you need to calm down. I observe that your termination team failed to kill him at the train station and at the reception dinner, I gave you the tools but I cannot do everything for you. I warned you that the Federation is a wily if naive opponent from the start. You aren't the first to try to outmanuever them and discover difficulties, but still your forces are in place are they not? And you have the elements in place to start the riots that will allow you to take military control to restore order don't you? And we can use the antipathy that Martinez ingendered with Vhypist to trick him into executing the martial law order so he can be executed after order is restored for his crimes against his own people on numerous occassions. Everything is within the operational parametes. Everything is going smoothly. Have you taken the steps I suggested in regards to the Commander Starfleet sent along at the last minute?"
Aramis clenches his fist in anger as he responds, "Yes. Her profile is rather impressive with command experience in battle on the ground and in space, even against your own people. Still, I've tasked a gunship crew and two of your Tal Shaava trained strike teams to isolate her and her personnel and paint the walls with what is left of their innards. She won't escape, neither will her mind witch of that split faced freak or that prissy pants Ambassador. In the mean time, I believe that they will serve us well in setting off the riots that will allow us to assume full control of the capital, and from the capital, the rest of the planet. But I have doubts..."
"Do not doubt, it was a human that assured that fortune favored the bold. Of course, if you are really having doubts we can pull out completely now and you can enjoy your new life as a Federation lapdog... they will even give you one of those stunning primary color turtlenecks I'm sure."
The Colonel glowers heavily and slips on his leather trench coat saying, "I will report your insolence to the Centurian-Ambassador *Legate*," this last word spat as a curse, "and I assure you that he will not be pleased. I don't want to see you again until this is over." With that he storms out of the chamber revealing finally the aristocratic mein and steepled fingered hands of Legate Voidrai. She sits motionless for some time, then says softly, "If I see you again Colonel Aramis, that means it is damage control time and I will be the last thing you see."
Meanwhile...
...on the balcony favored by the Romulan delegation the stunning sunset is beheld by both of the Diplomatic operatives, while on the streets below early festivities continue unabated by the presence of nearby military vehicles and the Palace of Government is awash with lights in every window and spot lights piercing the darknening sky in a festive manner. The communications device chirps allowing the Ambassador to pick it up and receive a quick status update...
K'net-mauri having finished his tea, appeared to doze in his chair, his half-closed eyes directed out over the street, but seeming unseeing. He responds quite smoothly and immediately to the chirping comm, though, answering it with a clipped Romulan phrase. He still wears his sleepy expression, but his half-lidded eyes glint with alert interest as he listens. He speaks an affirmative into the comm.
Taevan stands beside Mauri's chair, still, ever the vigilant guard in S'veralis' absence. His hands are folded neatly within the sleeves of his tunic, and he waits for the Ambassador's conversation to conclude.
K'net-mauri says a simple, "Jolan'tru," into the comm and disconnects it. He then turns his head a little to look at Taevan, then looks back out at the street. "Watch," he suggests.
Taevan piques both brows, intrigued, and leans out over the balcony. To watch.
...and far below across the square Taevan can't help but notice the blue skinned Bolian that came with them on the Advent of Sorrow from S419, or the female officers in Starfleet uniforms accompanied by a man recognizeable as the Terran Ambassador as they exit the hotel and are mobbed by what seem to be supportive and adoring locals despite the attempts of the police to keep them at bay...
...and as flashes go off and the New Florida Metropolitan Police politely try to push back the throngs, Ambassador Martinez smiles with equal flash and shakes offered hands while issuing believable prememorized platitudes, strange hands brush the exposed skin of Daxx as if checking to make sure it's not really paint, and hundreds of thoughts bash against Yasharra and to Poole... a woman pushes forward calling out, "I know you! You helped free us! The Dominion killed my husband -- he was in the resistance. Thank you! Thank you for coming... touch my baby for luck!" And with that the barely out of her teens woman presses into Poole's chest a very squirmy and happily chubby baby...
Flashing her best smile for the crowds, Poole gently eases her way forward, pausing when the baby is pushed against her... for a half a second she looks unsure of what to do, then she hugs the child, giving it a quick kiss on the head before handing it back to it's mother, "Many blessings, Miss... to you and your child." When she can she spares a glance towards Yasharra and Baxx, making sure everything is five by five.
Baxx has extended his hands, laughing as a hundred pink hands ghost over his. "Yes, um, something like your porpoises," he says to someone -- maybe no one -- in the crowd. "I'm a Bolian, from Bolarus... it's quite some distance from here..."
<CONTEST> Gellan contests her Receptive Empathy skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!
<CONTEST> Gellan contests her Receptive Telepathy skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Fails!
Gellan can't help but smile, somewhat overwhelmed initially by the warm emotions of the pressing crowd. The mother and child especially get a smile, if a bit awkward. Poor Poole. Pushed this way and that between jostling crowd and crew members, she finds herself scanning the crowd, and her hand reaches out to tap Poole on the arm, gently, more of a brush. But she expects the Commander won't be completely won over.
Suddenly a shriek carries over the crowd, "DIE ALIEN LOVERS!"
It is followed immediately by the sound of a fully automatic projectile weapon opening up and belching death in the form of hot lead...
<CONTEST> Fortunae contests his Projectile Weapon (Submachine Gun) skill vs Poole's Dodge skill (given advantage) and Fails!
<CONTEST> Fortunae contests his Projectile Weapon (Submachine Gun) skill vs Baxx's Dodge skill (given advantage) and Succeeds!
<CONTEST> Fortunae contests his Projectile Weapon (Submachine Gun) skill vs Gellan's Dodge skill (given advantage) and Succeeds!
...and then screams wrap around the sound of bullets impacting into unarmored bodies, Poole moving with instinctive speed grabs the baby from it's mother's arms as the later is rocked and pitches a different direction... a teenage boy who had just openned his mouth to speak never gets his words out as a bullet punches through him and flies on to nick the arm of the social scientist... Yasharra literally saw the bullets zooming in toward her when from nowhere a NFMP officer steps in front her bellowing "Get down!" just before he is riddled and flops like a marionette before he falls back onto the Betazoid... Ambassador Martinez is pushed forcefully toward the inside of the limosine that had been waiting for them by another young officer while a third level his service automatic at the crowd apparently trying to get a shot and another jumps onto the hood of the limosine and responds in kind with a pull of his trigger and dancing with the tug on his pump action shot gun which erupts in fire and noise...
...and back on the Romulan balcony....
K'net-mauri, on the balcony, looks down at the rattling fire below. He gets slowly to his feet and turns towards the doors. "Our vantage point is not particularly secure, Taevan," he observes, "And is liable to become less so as this escalates. Come inside."
The Ambassador's Adjutant looks out on the spectacle a moment more, then nods and follows his mentor inside. "Shall I make some more tea, Ambassador?" Taevan asks casually, because in all honesty that's really all that matters.
...while in the carnage below....
Poole dives to the side with the child clasped protectively in her arms, she calls out, "YaSharra... Baxx!?" The baby wailing now, she struggles to find herself cover and some place to put the child that's out of harms way. Somebody is shooting at her. Nothing new.
"Hit, sir, though barely," Baxx says, dropping immediately to a crouch. His right hand finds its way to the bullet wound. "At the very least they could be civilized about it and use phasers," he grunts in bolian, then in Standard: "Which way are we going?"
Disoriented from both the eruption of gunfire and the flood of terror and panic of the crowd around her, YaSharra Gellan stands frozen, her arms cradeling the fallen police officer who has now fallen into her. "Gods...no!" Horrified, she looks into the face of the man who just saved her life, and gently kneels to lower him to the ground. She is, for all practical purposes, deafened at the moment.
The moments before celebratory crowd is now a terror driven mob and people run every direction so long as it is away from the point of gunfire, into the nearby buildings, crawling beneath cars -- pushing struggling wailing screaming and like a ripple effect a clearing in the crowd is spawned by casulties and routing making the maniac with the submachine gun quite clear in view... for the moment it takes three police officers to gun him down in a spectacular shower of primal violence. Two of the officers move up on the assailent as he goes down, one the officer with the shotgun who does not let the fact that man is sprawled dissuade him from taking a step and a shot a step and shot a step and a shot...
...the officer who shoved the Ambassador into the car tugs at Gellan's shoulder yelling, "GET IN THE CAR! WE HAVE TO GET YOU OUT OF HERE!"
Across the plaza another cry railing against aliens is sounded and then a man rushes into a corner cafe where horrified patrons are frozen in stunned shock, but only for a moment before a blossom of orange and red and yellow erupts within showering glass and brick and fractured claw coffee cup chunks outward in a frightful roar.
Forcing her eyes shut just a moment, Poole clears her mind. Blocks out the violent images. The chaos. And when she opens her eyes a moment or so later, it is an ordered chaos. She runs for the limo, "Baxx, YaSharra... do as they say... get in the limo... we have to get out of here! We can't help them! Not here!" All yelled, barked in a tone that means she expected it done yesterday.
<CONTEST> Fortunae contests his Projectile Weapon (Gunpowder Rifle) skill vs Poole's Dodge skill (given advantage) and Dramatically Succeeds!
The tugging on her shoulder by another police officer, combined with Poole's orders, finally get Sharra's attention and she lets go of the fallen policeman. Head down, she makes a run for the limo as well, if a bit shakey.
Baxx, keeping his center of balance low to the ground, sprints for the armored car. Once inside, he is scanning the crowd from the safety of the bulletproof windows.
GAME: Poole spends a courage point.
<CONTEST> Poole (claiming advantage) contests her Fitness (Vitality) skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Fails!
View through a sniper scope repticle -- the blonde commander, with a baby tucked into herself with the far arm from the plaze, gestures with her phaser in hand at her subordinates as she runs for the safety of the armored limosine, the scope bounces slightly and resettles on Poole who has been flipped off her feet sideways, the baby screaming a few inches from her shoulder as blood flows freely from the side of her head visble in the scope and pools into her hair and around her fallen form. There is a blur as scope is moved and centers on the driver of the car, another shot is fired but the glass only shows a small disfigurement. A voice is heard, "Eagle Control this is eagle three. Confirmation sanction against second priority target. Moving to next location."
Meanwhile back on the Romulan balcony...
Taevan patiently watches the two cups as the hot water coaxes the flavor out of the crushed tea leaves. "This is all quite exciting," he notes, not seeming very excited at all.
K'net-mauri sits across from Taevan, listening to the muffled sounds from outside. Nice place, this, it's almost quiet within in spite of all the excitement. "Indeed," he says to Taevan. "Are you wishing you were outside?"
Taevan seems to consider this for a moment, before removing the tea strainers. "Outside on the ground? No. But a good pair of macro binoculars would be most helpful, to be sure."
K'net-mauri smiles faintly at Taevan. "Ah. I thought there was something I forgot to bring along. I apologize. We will have to entertain ourselves. Perhaps you want to see if the Occan newsfeed has been killed yet?"
And back on the street level...
Ambassador Martinez, his eyes widened in outrage and horror bellows "NOOO!" The sight of Poole spinning and fallen clearly the victim of a stray or deliberate bullet sends him bursting out of the back of the limosine stepping on Baxx's foot in the process and tumbling YaSharra off balance into the seat with the back to the driver as he does. The Police Officer tries to grapple him back inside and is met with a surprisingly adroit left hook from the politician which buys the scrambling fool a moment to reach the baby and pass switch it from one hand to the next by a taut grip of it's jumper and into the police officer as he then grabs the bloody and motionless officer's sleeve and tries to drag her toward the car...
Overhead a Gunship roars overhead with speakers broadcasting for everyone to get down as the Military is about to commence crowd control, the later half of this message being lost as the civic center where the votes are running through final tabulation and verification explodes outward in glass and fire and permacrete leaving in an instant roiling smoke and the clears signs of a massive fire inside.
Regaining her balance in the seat she was so abruptly knocked into, Sharra is up out of her seat again once Martinez is clear of the car. She gestures to Baxx and the police officer. "Lieutenant, take the baby!" And while the Policeman's hands are full of screaming infant, dashes to the Ambassador and Poole. A firm grip on the back of the Commander's uniform with one hand, and the other under her arm, she's there to lend what strengh she has to Poole to the car before more disaster rains down on them in the form of crowd control or flying glass, or both.
Baxx leans out of the car and neatly scoops the baby out of the policeman's hands, darting back inside with the child in his arms. A moment later, he puts his thumb in the kid's mouth to quiet him. Bolian skin has about the same texture as a rubber pacifier, right?
With the combined effort of Martinez and Gellen, the apparently lifeless form of Commander Poole is drug into the limo and the door is slammed shut by the police officer prompting the driver to put the pedal down while hoping noone coweres beneath the wheels as he pulls into the emptier area where the gunmen launched his attack from and then leans on his horn with feverish energy causing people still running down the street.
Within moments a military gunship is moving in behind the occassionally swerving and definitely speeding vessel calling from the speakers -- *Pshsst* "Black Corsair Limosine plate number NF98-2112 your are in violation of a Military Control. Stop immediately and disembark for detainment procedures." *Pshsst* All the while the guns lock and track the vehicle giving every indication that it will be more than ready to fire if giving the provocation. But Provacation comes from an unexpected location...
A white and green NFMP Vector Thrust aircruiser comes around a building with lights flashing and sirens blaring and rotates it's thrusters to allow it to fly in reverse in a cover position of the escaping car. *Pshsst* "Military cruiser, no recognized martial law order has been given and this vehicle is under protection of Diplomatic Privilege and therefore the domain of the NFMP. I direct you to discontinue your pursuit immediately or we will be forced to initiate arrest procedures." *Pshsst*
The car continues to race down the paved streets of the Occan capital weaving around cars that impede it's accelerated progress while the black and green and green and white aircraft face each other in a steadily paced race along the same trajectory... until without further warning the green and black military craft swivels it's ball chain gun turret up and spits hyper-accelerated slugs fed by a belt into the police craft with crumples and then explodes in the space of a breath. The car drives on...
Much further down the street, a police squad car heading toward the Plaze screeches to a stop as the explosive action happens in the distance. Officer Grenault looks at his partner Officer Satoir. "Son of a bitch!"
"Yep" Satoir responds.
"Tell me, do you still have the Jem'hadar polaron rifle under the seat you were supposed to turn in six months ago?"
"Yep." Satoir responds.
"Excellent, may I borrow it?"
"Yep" Satoir responds.
And with that Grenault fishes the bullpup polaron carbine from under the seat and steps out of his car using the door as some cover and ignoring completely the black limosine racing toward his position at dangerous speed, tracking instead the military aircraft... then he pulls the trigger an lance of purple light shoots from the weapon and blasts the entire front off of the gunship leaving the two crew up front a moment to scream before their craft twists of control and explodes on the pavement as the limo zoom past the police car so fat it ruffles Grenaults hair. He takes a moment to fix his hair then slips back into his seat closing his door. "That got them," He says.
"Yep." Sattoir resonds with a smile, then pulls his car back into motion.
Meanwhile inside the limosine..
<CONTEST> Gellan contests her Personal Equipment (Tricorder) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!
Inside the speeding and swaying vehicle, Gellan has loosed her tricorder from her belt, and is scanning Poole. While she may be a doctor of psychology, but she's been a field medic as well. She studies the readouts on the little device in her hand, and then leans over Poole to get a better look at the wound, surprise registering on her face. "Thank the million little Gods," she breathes softly, and then looks around the Limo. Medical kit. Something. "I need a soft cloth. A first aid kit would be nice." Counselors don't normally carry those things, see.
Baxx lifts the diapered baby presently sucking on his thumb. "Junior here is wearing a soft cloth," he suggests, "or you can use the one on your belt." He spares a glance for Poole, then resumes his watch out the windows. "When do we call the Ts'lux T'Gora for extraction? For some reason, I don't think you and I stand much more chance against the riots as we did last time."
Baxx lifts the diapered baby presently sucking on his thumb. "Junior here is wearing a soft cloth," he suggests, "or you can use the kit on your shoulder strap." He spares a glance for Poole, then resumes his watch out the windows. "When do we call the Ts'lux T'Gora for extraction? For some reason, I don't think you and I stand much more chance against the riots as we did last time."
Gellan snatches the medical kit she's unused to wearing from her shoulder, flipping it open and pulling what she needs from within. "This is a bit worse than last time, Mister Baxx," she mutters while leaning over to treat Poole's wound. "If we can get out of the thick of things to somewhere safe, we can consider calling the Romulans." She glances to Martinez. "Depending on what Ambassador Martinez decides."
Ambassador Martinez, shirt now bloody and with dabs of same on his face as well maintains a loose grip on his emotional center as he speaks, "This is *insane*! The Police are fighting the military, I think the military are trying to /kill/ us. We left the Romulan Ambassador back there!" His rant dies for a moment as the phone in the back of the car rings and with a slightly dazed expression he picks it up. "Hello? Minister Trefois! Are you alright? Are we alright?! They tried to gun us down in the street! Commander Poole has been shot! Lieutenant Baxx has been shot! Things are exploding and the military is trying to kill us! What's that? Someone blew up the Records building? What about the election.... oh? Oh! Yes -- yes I see your point. He's what? Well you have to stop him! Confront him at the Hall of government, yes we can meet you there. Yes... yes, but the military -- right. See you there, good luck Mister President!" He hangs up the phone... "We have to go back, they mistimed thier coup, Vhypist is about to do a press conference there is a chance that we can save this situation but we can do it while we run away. And we need to link up with the Romulans...
"Fleeing -and- heroics at the same time, imagine that," Baxx mutters out the window.
Speaking through gritted teeth, Gellan mutters an unkind comment about Vhyphist and Occa in general. She's finished cleaning Poole's wound and covers it carefully. She's still amazed that the woman is alive. Sitting back, she puts things away in the medkit and picks up Poole's phaser from where it lies wedged underneath her. "Alright Ambassador. I suggest you contact your Romulan counterpart. Find out where they are, what they're doing..preferably before we go dashing back into more flying ballistics." She hefts the phaser, looking at it to check its settings, and narrows her eyes. So. That's where the bullet went. Right down the barrel, so to speak.
Meanwhile, inside the Romulan suite at the Presidential...
"I can't believe this Terry, even during the Liberation we didn't see this kind of wanton carnage here in the capital city."
"That's right Jack, let's look at this footage of the Federation observers being gunned down again..."
The holovision shows a long shot of Commander Poole going down while trying to save the baby but then is blinked out by a Bland Green and Black symbol of the Occa Military which says in the local script "Standby for an important Announcement". Then the image shows a elderly human male with a severe military uniform and hair cut. "People of New Florida and Occa, due to the tragic events in the capital President Vhypist has asked the military to step in and restore order. Since the start of unrest interparty hit teams have been assassinating key members of the various parties, and the records of the elections themselves were targeted in this outrageous series of incidents. We ask you to return to your homes and stand by, in thirty minutes the President will address the nation. Until then, stay home, stay safe, and know we are your guardians and shepards in this time of unrest." The image vanishes and is replaced by a standby static picture, suggesting that there will be no more broadcasts until the President's address...
Taevan watches with a detached sort of interest, and then, when the clip of Poole's would-be assassination shows itself again, turns to Mauri and nods slowly. "Impressive."
K'net-mauri smiles a slow wide smile at that shot of Poole, grainy though it may be. However much he may say he loves his children, it appearantly doesn't extend to that endangered baby. A nod to Taevan, "Fair enough."
That baby isn't one of the Ambassador's children, is it? "Fair enough?" Taevan questions. "It could only be better if Balin himself were on that screen." It's safe to say he's content with the outcome so far, yes.
The young communications officer enters at this point saying, "Ambassador, the Legate is calling you regarding a situational update." She indicates the comunit that's chirp was blared out by the action on the television.
K'net-mauri shrugs at Taevan, a slight gesture, "Oh, anything that is this messy is expensive. It was hardly the ideal solution." He glooks over at the officer, lifts a brow at her as if the perculiarity of his not having heard the comunit is her fault, and moves to answer the chirping thing. Again, the brief clipped military greeting.
K'net-mauri, into the comm, says something remarkably obscene in Romulan, then, "Do so."
Taevan raises a curious brow.
K'net-mauri sighs a little. He is silent for a long moment, listening to the quiet voice on the comm. "Very well," he says slowly. "This seems tenable, and other options that come to mind are wont to less controllable repercussions. I will attend to my end of this plan and consult with you in due course. And not waste more of your fleeing moments. Jolan'tru."
Taevan looks toward the Ambassador expectantly yet again. "Well?"
K'net-mauri looks at Taevan, starting to get to his feet. "It would seem that this action has come a little to late. Their election tallies have been reported. Trefois has, it appears, popular support. And every intent to bring our little friend Vhypist to justice for this attempted coup. Our Occan allies have timed themselves ill. And done poorly by us in another matter, which is now taxing our resources here. We will see if we cannot arrive at the Presidential Palace."
Taevan furrows his brow, and takes on an air of disappointment. "Not only can they not choose what they want; they cannot even properly rise up and take it." He precedes the Ambassador to the door, holding it for the elder Romulan and checking the disruptor within his tunic before they venture into the unknown.
Twenty-five minutes later...
...Ambassador Martinez and Lieutenant Baxx sprint up the steps of the Palace of Government escorted by several police officers to catch up with Minister Trefois' escort group while confused young soldiers hesitate to take any direct action that their orders did not specifically include, like stopping them. Much slower, Counselor Gellan helps a head pounding and disheveled looking Commander Poole out of the car where two more officers wait to escort them inside. Trefois and his companions, now including Baxx and Martinez enter the lobby and cross through the it's marbled floors where once a furious firefight between Starfleet, the Star Navy and the Jem'Hadar raged though no traces of that battle remain, and avoid the elevator instead taking the stairs up to the third floor where the senate chambers are located and where President Vhypist has just concluded his passionate speech decrying the days sorry events and vowing to insure that free elections are installed as soon as order an reasonably allow it. As Martinez and Baxx slip inside they see, perhaps to some surprise, the robed form of the Romulan Ambassador and his aide standing much closer to the platform though not upon it. Then an Occan General steps forward as Vhypist concludes his speech and takes the microphone as the cameras record and broadcast every triumphant moment...
General Dosoero clears his throat and says, "Now that President Vhypist has announced a period of full martial law, the first thing we in the Military will do is order his arrest. Vhypist you are under arrest for multiple counts of conspiracy against the people of Occa and brutal crimes against them including orchestrating the brutal murders of rioters last year and the systematic undermining of this election process and the murder of countless Occan citizens not excluding several of your political rivals. You will be remanded from here in military custody to a place of detention where you will be tried by a military court and if found guilty taken from there to a place of public execution."
And then Trefois yells -- "Just one moment *General*. As the duly /elected/ President of Occa I did not authorize the passing of Martial Law. The results of the election were sent to the campaign offices and networks before the building was destroyed, I have the proof right here!" He waves some papers. "You will not arrest Vhypist, but these officers will until a full inquiry can look into these matters. Now stand down your forces and clear out of this hall of government!"
A cacophonous murmer erupts in the chamber and the General looks at Trefois with an almost smug look of disdainful superiority.
The greater part of Baxx' huffing can be attributed to the baby still on his hip, since there are few safe places to stash a baby, let alone in a riot. The bolian jogs up and stands behind Trefois, his free hand floating steadily over the phaser at his belt.
K'net-mauri, already there, stands in waiting. He lifts a brow at the ragged Starfleet team when they come in, then attempts an expression of concern, frowning a little. It doesn't quite work, but who's to say anything? The man always looks mean.
No doubt given the option of leaning against Counselor Gellan, Poole chooses instead to walk slowly on her own, pausing at the elevator and taking -that- up. No stairs for her, nope. While in there, her attention is diverted from her MASSIVE BRAINACHE by the reflective metal and her own image. The blood that's caked in her blonde hair makes her nose scrunch, but a moment later she nods her approval. Just then the doors open and she steps into the area that the rest are in, noting K'net-mauri's look. "Don't look so disappointed, Ambassador." Her gaze then turns to the General, skewering him there. The one look says it all, 'you tried to kill me and here I am anyways.'
. o O Poole thinks "I may look half-dead, but I'm still pretty."
Alexander Martinez makes a slightly wavering course away from the Minister and toward the Romulan Ambassador, and when he reaches him he says, "I'm so glad you are here. I hope you weren't hurt, I was worried for you. Look, here are the election tabulations, now if both you and I back this up, the actually elected president will take office, and that is why we came here, right?" He pants slightly while he says this, but is careful not to get any blood on K'net-mauri as he offers the PADD with copies of the Election results.
"All you've missed is an extended steely-eyed staring contest," Baxx asides to Poole as she arrives. He then shifts the baby to a more comfortable position.
K'net-mauri's furrow-browed concerned look quite slips when Poole speaks to him, and for a split second he wears the hissy-pissy expression of a hawk about to snatch at something small and annoying and too quick. The look doesn't last more than a heartbeat, though, and he turns a grave and placid face to Martinez. "That is why we came here, yes," he says, accepting the PADD and looking it over.
Baxx steps In Character.
Baxx has left.
Spider has arrived.
GAME: Spider is joining this location.
Time: Fri Aug 08 19:33:49 2003
Stardate: 53420.7
General Dosoero completely disregards the hostile look sent his direction from Poole, focusing instead on Trefois to whom he directs, "Minister Trefois, though I appreciate your sentiments in this regard, I myself have seen nothing official and verifiable regarding the veracity of your assertation. And I am not likely to be able to do so soon considering the fact that the records were destroyed. I am not, of course suggesting that you are lying just that your position is unsupportable and that being the case, the Martial Law order signed in by Vhypist will in fact stand until our established processes can determine otherwise. I recommend then that you withdraw to the company and safety of your family until we have order firmly re-established."
Martinez steps away from the Romulan Ambassador and voices, "The United Earth Government and the Federation both recognize the validity of these results. We recognize Trefois as the duly elected chief of state and will consider any actions on your part to contest them as a deliberate act of a military coup against the freedoms and will of the people of Occa. You would be well advised General to respect the rule of the law and recognize your president *now*."
. o O Martinez thinks "There I go again threatening people in power, eh Baxx?"
General Dosoero barely restrains himself from sneering as he says, "Fortunately for all involved then, Occa is not under the jurisdiction of the Federation or the United Earth Government so your opinions carry little weight in our internal affairs, I'm sure your Romulan colleague feels differently than you do, Mister Martinez."
K'net-mauri moves to stand before the cameras with a whisper of his ostentatious robes. He is silent for a few beats, then speaks with solemn gravity: "The Romulan Star Empire regrets to learn that the result of todays election is one that may close doors in the future of the Occan people. It was our hope that Occa would take her rightful place in the galactic community and accept there our welcome to an independant state, ready to build mutually beneficial relationships with her starfaring neighbors." There is a little pause, and he gazes placidly into the camera's eye. "However, above our hopes for free and open friendship with Occa, the Star Empire values order and justice. The requirements for election, as codified in Occan law, have been met. It is clear to us from the evidence presented that Minister Trefois has been legitimately elected to the presidency of the Occan government. He therefor has the support of Romulus. The will of the people and the principles of civic order must be respected here, as they are in the Star Empire." Another pause, a few heartbeats long, and the Romulan Ambassador goes on: "We denounce the violence that has occurred here today, and the attempt to interfere with the carrying out of those principles in due order and in accordance with law. We welcome the swift return of peace to this world, and we welcome President Trefois to his seat of office."
Through the two story windows that give a view of the governmental plaza from this chamber a sudden shadow falls upon the crowd within, drawing attention away from the General's look of shock and then hatred. The Ts'lux T'gora hovers in the wide clear areas between the buildings surrounding the plaze making it very clear the Romulan Ambassador will have very little tolerance for any contradiction of his sentiments in this matter.
General Dosoero forces an accepting smile on his face then as he says, "So then it would seem I am mistaken, Mister President. And if Occan's neighbors support your claims, even claims that are against their best interests, surely I should accept them as well at least until they are proven or disproven. Martial Law is then immediately repealed and may I be the first to congratulate you, sir."
The gathered press corps erupt in applause and in a flash Trefois is mobbed by his countryman in a hurricane of contratulations and back slapping... all of which is a perfect distraction away from the General as he withdraws his service pistol from behind the cover of the Podium and points it directly at the Romulan Ambassador...
...Martinez is just looking back toward the General and realizes his intent in an instant, and forgetting to hesistate he yells, "AMBASSADOR GET DOWN!" He leaps and the pistol reports once, Martinez collides with K'net-Mauri spilling him into Taevan who is driven into several chairs and goes down with them in a heap. Even as soldiers move to retrain the General a green transporter effect desposits a squad of Romulan soldiers into the chamber and one very angry S'veralis who cartwheels forward and jumps into the air connecting with both feet into the General and riding him to the floor. Her hands lash out to catch his chin and twist even as voices are raised to call for her to wait... and it is too late for any waiting as Dosoero expires in less than a breath after the Romulan woman's arrival.
It is then when the Starfleet officers see the blood and that it is coming from Ambassador Martinez who by the circumstances of their landing is almost cradled in K'net Mauri's lap as his life's blood fountains it's last from his mortal wound. Alexander's eyes flutter and he voice is coarse as he asks with final intensity, "Did, did we make a difference?"
K'net-mauri startles at the shot, not jumping but drawing up and backward like a snake. He glances down at the fallen man before him, his dark eyes wide and angry with suprise. Martinez' condition gets only a moment of the Romulan's attention; an instant later he has turned that wrathful falcon's glare on his attacker. His tone is still that clear, precise speech-maker's voice when he replies to the stricken Federation Ambassador without looking again at that bloody form: "I believe we have.
In the chaos, Trefois steps up to the plate of his destiny, grabbing a microphone he looks into the nearest camera and says, "People of Occa, today is a new day for us. Today is the day we take again control of our destiny and stop buying grace for our mistakes with the lives of our friends and neighbors. From this day, together, we move forward into a new age for our people and forever more will we put aside the insanity of spirit that we brought with us centuries ago from an Earth that is vastly different than the one today. No more can we justify the horrors of today with the fears of the future and the methods of History. Today. On this Day. It stops and we begin."
--- Fin ----
