And From Thy Father's House

 Episode Name:  And From Thy Father's House

   Written By:  Daedalus

         Cast:  Arvander, Daedalus, Ghorev, Goodwin, Kryn Endilev, Nilee, Park and Xenos.

  Produced By:  Starfleet

  Directed By:  Daedalus

     Aired On:  Wed Oct 19 23:41:07 2005

     Stardate:  55348.3

Time: Sun Oct 02 22:23:27 2005

Stardate: 55307.3

As the party of officers -- two in command maroon, one in science blue -- approach Airlock One, there is the sound of it pressurizing, of a universal docking hatch making contact, lock, and seal.

At the head of this small contingent is a fellow in Lieutenant Commander pips. The second officer stands in front of the airlock, a respectful distance away, hands at parade rest behind his back. Goodwin looks most official.

Kryn Endilev is standing to Goodwin's left, also at parade rest. He stands waiting, watching the airlock hatch.

Xenos exits from the turbolift, "I don't have any tomato juice on my uniform, do I?" he asks himself, looking down quickly before they make an appearance.

And the hatch opens, and a series of 4 Ferengi emerge, followed by four humanoids that are clearly *not* Ferengi, followed by 2 more Ferengi.

Arvander steps through the airlock access.

Arvander has arrived.

"Here we go," murmurs Goodwin back to the other two are with him. But he keeps himself in the same position - hands behind back. "Your Highness, I presume?" This is directed in the general direction of the four humanoids, so that it could possibly be addressed to any one of them.

Xenos stands with his hands in front of him, his bulky form poised as regally as it can be. He remains silent, but takes the moment to examine the newcomer's clothes, dress, and adornments.

Arvander steps forward. "This is acceptable," he says, "as a term of address." His Federation Standard is accented, slightly, but it's clear he's studied the language carefully enough. "I am Arvander Xisuthra to'Yimaa, son of Xisuthra Lamech, sole surviving brother and heir of Nao Lamech, who was the last King of my people. And you are ... a Starfleet ... Lieutenant Commander, of Command Branch." He eyes Goodwin's uniform. "Your name, Commander?"

"I am Commander Joshua Goodwin, the second officer of this station," greets Josh in a formal yet friendly tone of voice. "On behalf of the United Federation of Planets Starfleet, welcome to Station Four-One-Nine. Might I introduce Lieutenant Enilev, our diplomatic security officer, and Lieutenant Xenos, our social sciences officer." A gesture to the two men behind him.

Kryn Endilev inclines his head politely upon being introduced. "A pleasure, gentlemen," he states pleasantly.

Xenos simply offers a nod and a smile. Instead, he merely takes this point to politely observe.

Arvander gives a brief sketch of a bow, the kind of thing from the shoulders that is more than a nod but less than a full lowering of himself before non-royalty. "Gentlemen. I would ask where the rest of the station is, but I know full well that our ... arrival was on reasonably short notice, and can hardly expect the station to change schedule in the time it takes to count change." He does, after a moment, seem to remember something. "Allow me to introduce my Ministers, Lord Teomo, Lord Dismas, and Lady Simura." The other three mentioned give slightly deeper bows, but remain silent. "Our Ferengi escort needs no introduction, and with the possible exception of Sub-Daimon Ib, they will not being joining us."

Goodwin returns the bow in kind, apparently treating the Crown Prince as an equal. Or he's keeping himself safe by mimicing the gesture. "A pleasure, all, and I assure you that you will get the opportunity to meet the Federation Diplomatic Service officers soon enough," he greets the Ministers and reassures the prince. "To what do we owe your visit, Your Highness?"

Xenos is certainly a fountain of questions at the moment, but for the time being, he allows diplomacy to take the place of scientific curiosity. He remains silent.

Arvander says, "The answer is simple." He smiles, takes a step forward, hands coming to lock behind his back, which straightens. "Our Ferengi benefactors will be the first to admit they have failed the Yimaan Royal Family in one particular -- they have been unable, despite decades of trying, to give me the one thing I have wanted since I was in swaddling clothes, and what my late father, the uncrowned King before me, promised I would have: the right to set foot on the Ark where he, his brother before him..." The smile remains plastered on his face, "...and a hundred kings before them, were born."

"I see," says Goodwin, politely, and deciedly non-commitally, watching the Prince as he goes off in his little speech. He makes no other comment, letting the Prince continue.

Kryn Endilev continues to stand at parade rest, being little more than decoration at the moment as the prince and the second officer speak.

Xenos raises a curious eyebrow, and looks back at Goodwin and then back at the newcomer for a response.

Arvander gets sidetracked by a moment, glancing at the big blue fellow. "You are ... Andorian, yes?"

Kryn Endilev nods his head in response and even gets some antennae action going. "Yes, sir. Born and raised on Andor. Mostly."

Arvander says, "Then perhaps you can imagine my dilemma, but perhaps not. Imagine if you will the pain of knowing that due to some wave of incredulously stupid, violent, opportunistic political sentiments, your entire family, before you were even conceived, had been driven from Andor, never to return on pain of execution." He does a little sketch of a part-bow again. "Such is my story, Lieutenant. Four hours ago, we made one more attempt to discuss this matter with the Revolutionary Council which now serves as a government in my family's stead. They refused to even hear me out. I think they even keep my very existence a secret from my people. Can you imagine how that must be?"

Goodwin now speaks again, but it's a neutral, guarded tone. "I understand that this must mean a lot to you, Your Highness," agrees the second officer. "What sort of assistance were you hoping Starfleet might provide?" He has an idea, but is feeling out the prince.

Kryn Endilev is somewhat less diplomatic and rather more direct. But then, that's probably why he's security and not a credentialed diplomat. "I think I can imagine fairly accurately how you feel, Your Highness. But here's the problem. What do you expect the Federation to do about it. If you've been with the Ferengi, you know who we are and what we're about. Right now, we know very little. We want to hear someone out and right now, you're here."

"We could perhaps begin to understand your plight if you provided us with histories of your people. I know very little of this history of your Dynasty or the Revolution itself. But nevertheless, I do understand somewhat how you might feel," The Grazerite chimes in.

Arvander says, "Of course," briefly, in the Grazerite's direction. Then, to Endilev and Goodwin: "While my escort made that first pass of the Ark, I noticed ... it was damaged. Far more damage than could have been explained by the rebellion, so many years ago. It looked recent. And our scans -- I have had some training in the use of a starship console, and ran some of them myself -- reveal that in fact the Ark is damaged. At full strength, that ship could maybe, *maybe* survive a journey into Klingon space. But not now. Not as it stands. And this is the only station between here and the border. And they are afraid, they are *very* afraid, if I had to draw on the best guess available to a well-educated Monarch, that my Ferengi friends are going to wait until the moment they have cleared Federation space across that border, and open fire." A pause. "They are going, if I am any judge of Yimaan character, to ask for your help in repairs. That gives Starfleet an edge the Ferengi Commerce Authority does not have."

Goodwin purses his lips and slowly nods his head. "We will need to, of course, evaluate the damage to the Ark ship, and receive a formal request to aid it before we take any action," says Commander Goodwin.

"I'm sorry," Endilev says, schooling his expression in polite confusion. "The Ark will be crossing into Klingon space, but the FCA will be attacking it when it does. And these fine gentlemen here?" he asks, waving a hand toward the Ferengi.

Xenos purses his lips, "And you are condoning the possibility of an attack?"

The Ferengi, for their own part, are silent. The Crown Prince of the Yimaan People says "Excuse me, gentlemen, but I was speaking of fear and perception. At no time did I say the Ferengi Commerce Authority would condone piracy, assault, or even a justifiable counter-revolution. I believe you have misunderstood me, and were Federation Standard my cradle tongue, I might be offended; as it is, I will simply attribute this misunderstanding to my lack of serious fluency in the use of your language for diplomatic meetings."

Goodwin nods his head slowly. "Then in what manner are you asking Starfleet to assist you in your endearvors, Your Highness? Background on this matter, and, more importantly, what assistance you seek, will avoid such misunderstanding in the future." His brow scrunches up, thoughtfully.

Arvander says, "Have I not made myself clear, then?" He gives a sort of shrug, which looks rather comical from a man built like a small, squat tank, and moves forward. "The Ark will need repairs. But what you perhaps don't know about my people, Commander -- and the first history lesson that the Lieutenant there will have from me -- is this: The revolution cost the people on that Ark more than a Royal Family -- it also cost them their most skilled technicians and engineers. It was a very bloody and dark time." A slight flicker of a smile. "They *can't* fix the damage, Commander. I know that as sure as I know I am standing here. They will need Starfleet help to do so if they are going to fix it before reaching the border. They will need *your* help. And so, as righful head of our family, as the uncrowned but lawful heir to the title of King of the Yimaan People, I am asking, officially, for Starfleet's Good Offices in negotiating with the so-called Yimaan Revolutionary Council, so that I might, for the first time in my life, set foot in my Kingdom."

Another, slow nod from the second officer. "Well, Your Highness, you have given us much to consider this evening. We will need to discuss this matter with the Diplomatic Service, as well as wait for official contact from the the Ark Ship." Goodwin smiles. "But you and your Ministers are welcome to remain as our guests during until that time, if you wish. If you wish to remain on station, I will have the quartermaster issue you quarters."

Arvander says, "The cutter docked outside is my own, a gift from the Ferengi. I will be remaining on that, to ease security concerns. However, if those concerns can be abated for a few hours tomorrow, Commander, I would love a tour of this station."

"I am sure that Lieutenant Endilev would be pleased to arrange that for you, along with, perhaps, Lieutenant Xenos?" Goodwin is nothing if not generous with other people's time. "I am certain they would be pleased to learn more about you and your people, even while they show you our station."

"I will be at your disposal," Endilev states agreeably. This is his job after all. "Please contact the Station when you are ready tomorrow and they will be in touch with myself and the others and we can work from there."

Xenos nods adamantly, "It would be my pleasure, sir. Your Highness."

Arvander motions, then, and the Ferengi begin with to withdraw. His Ministers, who have remained silent, likewise step back into the airlock. "Then we will consider this first evening's meeting a success. Good evening, gentlemen."

Time: Tue Oct 11 21:25:54 2005

Stardate: 55328.8

The fade in is on the Senior Officers' Ward Room of Station 419, at what is clearly the end of a weekly staff meeting. PADDs are being shuffled. People are ready to depart, all clearly awaiting the usual signal from the Andorian with the 3 full pips.

Ghorev says, "Gentlemen, before we adjourn, I want to invite those of you with an interest in the Yimaan matters to remain." He looks around the table. "Ops will be hailing them on my orders, and patching the signal through to the viewscreen in here."

Goodwin rubs his hands together. "Oh, good," says the second officer, putting down his PADD and nodding his head at that. "I was going to ask when and how you wanted to make this contact." He then calms a bit to put on his 'game face.'

Park is just pushing up out of his chair and sinks back down just as quickly.

Nilee shuffles a couple of his PADDs together that he had pulled out during the meeting, But as the First Officer makes that announcement, the Trill's movements slow to a stop and he eases back into his chair, giving the Andorian a nod.

Ghorev taps his combadge. "Ghorev to Ops. Hail the Ark-Ship and pipe the signal through the ward room as soon as they respond. I want maximum gain -- their systems are rather ... primitive and we may have to carry the load." With the acknowledgement received a moment later, he taps the badge again. "Last minute thoughts before we actually start speaking to whoever answers?"

Goodwin shakes his head. "If possible, we ought to get an assessment from the Engineering officer on the deck as to their damage, if any, but otherwise, just want to ask who you want to take the lead in all of this." Josh glances around the room to see if anyone else has anything.

. o O Goodwin thinks, "Pick me, pick me, pick me."

"I can have a medical team ready to go in half an hour, if the need arises.", Park reports, then falls silent.

Nilee glances from Ghorev to Goodwin, nodding his head in agreement to the statement, "It would likely be advantageous to know what we're dealing with from the beginning, though I'd handle it carefully, if we do scan them." The Trill shrugs lightly and then leans back against his chair again, waiting for the transmission to begin.

At that point, an image appears onscreen with the kind of initial stutter that indicates a weak signal being boosted. It is a dimly lit control room of some kind, where several short, squat humanoids with ash-grey skin, dark hair, and yellowed eyes stand in dressy attire that has no real uniformity to it. One of the five -- wait, six, since there is one half-onscreen doing something towards the rear of the room -- Yimaans makes a throat-clearing-like noise, and speaks up, "You wished to speak to us, Federation station?"

Ghorev says, "Yes, we did." He rises from his seat, moves closer to the viewscreen. "I am Commander Akeen Ghorev, Executive Officer of Station 419-Upsilon, which we believe from your course and heading to be the last Federation station you will encounter before penetrating Klingon space. We wished, accordingly, to discuss certain matters with you before you depart the Federation."

Goodwin nods his head slightly at the greetings from Ghorev. He settles back into his seat, comfortably, yet formally, his PADD in front of him, so he can look good on the screen for their hail.

Nilee watches the viewscreen contemplatively, but doesn't speak, allowing the First Officer to make the contact.

The man looks somewhat alarmed for a moment. "Is there some regulation we stand accused of breaking, Commander Ghorev? Some tariff or toll you wish to collect? We are no strangers to this, and we warn you, we do not take kindly to threats or extortion."

Ghorev holds up both hands in a placatory gesture. "No, no, not at all. We wish to take this last chance to extend a hand in greeting and friendship. We have every reason to believe your people remain a private people, but since this would be the last chance we have to have discourse with you, given the range of your communications, we thought it best to talk now. Allow me to introduce my staff, in the hopes that knowing all of our names might incline you to see us less as faceless strangers." He gestures, one by one. "Lieutenant Commander Joshua Goodwin is our Second Officer, who coordinates diplomatic matters among his other duties. Lieutenant Commander Doctor Aaron Park is our chief medical officer, responsible for seeing to the physical and mental health of our crew. Lieutenant Galen Nilee is our Chief Science Officer, responsible for cataloging our scientific knowledge and coordinating those efforts which add to it." A pause. "And ... you and your crew there?" He gestures to indicate the Yimaans on the screen.

Goodwin raises his hand slightly and nods respectfully at the screen. "A pleasure," he greets the Yimaan on the screen. His PADD is kept out just far enough in front of him. He shifts it a little to make it equidistant from either hand, though.

Park simply offers the individual on the screen a smile and a nod as he's introducted.

"I am Deputy Minister Wettin. Let us leave it at that for now, please." A pause. "But we are listening, Commander Ghorev. Please, continue."

Ghorev nods, and settles into a chair closer to the viewscreen. "Very well, sir. Let me begin by reiterating that we *do* have some idea how much your people, in passing through our space, have valued your privacy and sovereignty. That said, we must now risk offending your pride by stating that we have noticed your impressive vessel is, sadly, damaged. We offer as a gesture of goodwill, before you pass into Klingon space, where Klingon culture may not offer you this opportunity, assistance with repairs."

. o O Goodwin thinks, "That is, take our help, and hopefully the Klingons won't blow you away."

Goodwin tilts his head slightly to the side and nods his head. "Our engineering staff, Deputy Minister, would be, I am sure, fascinated to work on a ship as intricate and interesting as your own," adds the second officer. "And they are some of the best in the business."

GAME: Goodwin spends a courage point.

GAME: Goodwin contests his Diplomacy/Intragalactic Affairs+A vs Challenging and Fails.

The man starts to say something in response to Ghorev before Goodwin's chiming in distracts him visibly. He frowns, however, as he turns his face towards the Second Officer. "You wish to study our systems, Lieutenant Commander Goodwin? You do understand that what your Commander has said is accurate: we will not again be returning to Federation space. You have absolutely nothing to gain by this. We will be gone from your space shortly."

GAME: Ghorev contests his Presence/Empathy vs Routine and Marginally Fails.

GAME: Goodwin contests his Presence/Empathy vs Routine and Fails.

GAME: Park contests his Presence/Empathy vs Routine and Succeeds.

Park glances at the screen and clears his throat. "If I might be so bold, Minister, I would very much like to have a conference with your own medical personnel.", he says. "Given your travels, I am certain that there is a great deal that I could learn and I would hate to see the opportunity pass us by. There is always the remote possibility that we might have a kernel of information in that regard that may prove useful."

Wettin is still looking at Goodwin, as if waiting to hear something from the man, but slowly turns away to Park when the Chief Medical Officer speaks up, instead. "Yes, well, our medical technicians are of a very high caliber, Doctor Park. I am sure this would be beneficial, but I could not justify slowing or changing course for it." He slowly turns back to Goodwin, as if waiting for an answer.

Ghorev starts to say something at this, but then seems to think better of it, and shuts his mouth.

Goodwin moves to recover. "I think I was misunderstood, Deputy Minister," says Goodwin, following Park's track that seemed to have worked. "We don't wish to learn of your systems for intelligence or war. Instead, we hope to have our engineering teams learn from yours, even as they work together to make repairs. I am sure there is much your engineers could teach ours."

GAME: Goodwin contests his Diplomacy/Intragalactic Affairs+A vs Moderate and Succeeds.

"As it is more to my benefit than yours, Minister, it is only fair that I make arrangments to travel to your location.", Park says with a smile. "Thank you so much for your willingness to serve as host for the meeting. If there is anything that I can provide, as a measure of thanks, I would be happy to do so."

Wettin nods at Goodwin's words, and then at Park's. "I will bring this matter before the Revolutionary Council at our next meeting, which is will take place well before we pass your station. You shall have our answer soon enough." A pause. "Without offense to you, Commander Ghorev, I take it that your Second Officer here, whom you have described as a coordinator of diplomatic matters, will be our point of contact in this? His manners are impeccable enough that I think our council will view him more favorably than yourself."

Ghorev's brow furrows. "No offense taken," he murmurs, sotto voce, "in case you were wondering." But then speaks more clearly and with greater volume, "That would be fine, Deputy Minister Wettin. Unless he crosses into promising you impossible things, or violates our laws in the process, my Second Officer has full authority to manage and coordinate both the diplomacy involved, and the other officers involved." He gestures as if to indicate Park. "If you wish to make Lieutenant Commander Goodwin your point of contact, I will not object."

Goodwin nods his head. "I look forward to working with the Revolutionary Council to coordinate its needs with the Station," promises the second officer. "I'm think I speak for everyone here at the Station when I say I hope we learn much from our work with the Yimaan people."

"Very well. We leave you, then." He makes no move to cut the signal or even order to do so, however, simply turning away from the screen.

Ghorev, for his own part, ends the transmission, rising to touch the viewscreen control panel. "Opinions and analysis, gentlemen?"

GAME: Ghorev contests his Diplomacy vs Challenging and Fails.

GAME: Goodwin contests his Diplomacy/Intragalactic Affairs+A vs Challenging and Succeeds.

GAME: Park spends a courage point.

GAME: Park contests his Medical Sciences/Psychology+A vs Challenging and Fails.

Goodwin takes a deep breath. "They feel inferior about their technology, which is well, inferior," offers Goodwin. "They don't like the idea that they're needy - that they need help, that they're in a position of needing someone else." A wave of his hand to the screen. "They have their whole world in one ship. If that's not screaming 'we want to be self-sufficient, leave us alone' well, what is?"

"He's really nervous about the whole engineering issue and suspicious of us.", Park chimes in. "I would recommend that we not try to make it seem like we're hiding the fact that the Crown Price is on board."

Ghorev says, "A wise point. I felt it best not to bring that up at all, since they clearly have little love for my ... style."

"I'll broach it," promises Goodwin with a nod of his head. "Lay it out square, I think, is the best way to do it. 'The Crown Prince wishes to meet with the Revolutionary Council, and Starfleet would be pleased to assist in facilitating talks in any way possible.'" He corrects himself. "We'll call him by name. Not title."

Ghorev says, "Fair enough." He considers. "Any other thoughts?"

Goodwin shakes his head. "I don't have anything," says Goodwin. "Right now, I'll need the flight deck to figure out where we're going to park this thing."

Ghorev says, "Park .. the ark-ship?"

"Well, we're going to have to figure out where it's going to take up station while we work on it, yeah," says Goodwin with a nod of his head. "And then route local traffic so it's not too badly in the way."

Ghorev nods. "Hrm. Yes. Start talking to Lieutenants Nevaren and Takamura about the logistics and the personnel allotment." Hr rises from the seat. "The room is yours, if you need to start talking about all this tonight. For now, good evening."

Goodwin rises slightly and nods his head. "Good evening, Commander," he says, in one of those half-rising gestures that show respect, but end up not having to get all the way out of your seat. "I'll get on it."

Park rises with Ghorev and follows the man out. Engineering and Logistics aren't his thing.

Time: Wed Oct 19 21:34:18 2005

Stardate: 55348.1

The Crown Prince of the Yimaans is escorted into the Conference Room by a couple of Ferengi, whom he bids to wait outside, and two of his Ministers, who remain silent as the Prince sits. "You wished to speak, Commander" he says, without preamble.

"Indeed, Your Excellency," says the second officer, standing up from where he sits at the Conference Room at the entrance of the Crown Prince. Goodwin explicates, "I had an opportunity to speak to members of the Revolutionary Council regarding your request for a meeting and mediation."

Arvander leans back in his seat. "I see? And?"

Goodwin re-takes his seat, reaching for the glass of water in front of him. "At this time, the Revolutionary Council does not wish to meet with you, and Station Command has decided it will not make its assistance to the Ark ship contingent on meeting with your delegation." He lays it out, plainly, watching for reaction.

Arvander frowns. "Does this exhaust this Station's Good Offices in the matter, Commander? My Federation Standard, while competent, is not the best, and I sense there is a nuance to what you are saying. Either you are intending to imply expressly that you are trying further without the coercion of the bargaining chip you hold, or you are intending to imply expressly that I am out of luck and forced to turn elsewhere. Which is it?"

"The Federation Starfleet always desires the peaceful resolution of conflicts in a society," replies Goodwin, diplomatically, not really answering the question. "But at the same time respects the right of self-determination that every race possesses. In short, while Starfleet will make its services known, and state neutrally the benefits of mediation, the ultimate decision rests with the Council."

Arvander says, "But you will not advocate. Merely state neutrally."

"That is correct, Your Excellency," states Commander Goodwin, nodding his head in agreement at that statement. "Other races have seen a benefit to mediation, but it is, ultimately, the choice of each society."

Arvander says, "I see," with a nod, and rises. "Thank you, Commander."

Goodwin comments, as he rises. "I understand, Your Excellency, that there is a Klingon fleet stationed across the border, awaiting your people's ship when it crosses, intending to destroy it." He waits, judging reaction. "I wasn't aware of whether you had heard."

Arvander says, "My Ferengi patrons had mentioned it in a briefing on long range ship movements, yesterday morning, yes." A deep exhalation. "It seems I am destined never to set foot on my ancestral home, Commander. Did you know that I am forbidden to, on pain of death? That the Revolutionary Council's Edict Number Two expressly forbids any member of the Royal Family from setting foot on the Ark-Ship?" He gives Goodwin a reaction, in spades, with some measure of bitterness in his voice. "I am their rightful King, born of over one hundred generations of loyal servants and protectors, but -- let alone not willing to talk to me -- these good and righteous ministers of state that call themselves my people's lawful government will place me in a plasma chamber and incinerate me alive if I so much as step one foot onto the deckplating."

Finally. Goodwin makes a push. "They're still your people, Your Excellency. And if you are their ruler, then you ought to see to them no matter where they are or who they choose to lead them. The Klingons want to /kill/ them, and then there's no one left to rule." He lets out a sigh. "There are upwards of twenty thousand citizens of yours on that ship, Your Excellency. Care for them. I know your patrons have some influence in this matter." Carefully /not/ impugning his honor, of course.

Arvander says, "Rule whom? A people I will never see? Perhaps you don't understand the history of what's going on here, Commander." He makes a sweeping gesture. "I am an exile, forbidden under the heading of a *capital offense* from visiting my homeland. Forget for a moment that I *am* the rightful King of the Yimaans, Commander, since you clearly have forgotten it." His own posture straightens now, the implied rebuke *very* clear. "For one moment, consider that I am forbidden on pain of death because of something my uncle is alleged to have done to inflame the passions of a cadre of self-described revolutionaries. You imply an injustice in what the Klingons desire of the Revolutionary Council, and yet you seem woefully unconcerned about the injustice done myself, and at least six of my nineteen ministers -- that is how many of my current retainers were not yet born when we were exiled. You tell me who will support me in this, who will stand up for me in this, and perhaps I might ask the Ferengi to put me deeper in their debt by bargaining with the Klingons on my behalf. As it is, Commander, all you are asking me to do is make more deep their little orange claws in my flesh, *for nothing*, and in fact, for less than nothing. So you tell me why I should."

Goodwin slams his hand on the table, making the transition from Diplomatic Josh to Rant Josh. "What's in it for /you/? Is /that/ what you want, Your /Highness/?" The accent on the second word is ironic, sarcastic. "You're going to /sacrifice/ your /entire/ race of people because of /you/? Is /this/ what this is about?" And now he's just winding on up. "The truly noble man puts his people above himself! That there is no higher calling than the calling to protect his own people! That no cost, no price is too great because he has been given a charge, a /mandate/ from something higher than any mortal person to guard his people and tend to them! And if you can't see that, if you're so bitter and jealous and enraged over the injustice done to /you/ that you'll consign your entire people to death, then you don't deserve to be king of a /scrap heap/!"

Arvander is silent throughout Goodwin's rant. "You have clearly mistaken me, Commander, for someone who cares about the rantings of a peasant. We are done here."

"I've clearly mistaken you for a noble man, Mister Arvander," replies Josh, throwing the title out the window now, shaking his head. "And I swear, if you're not going to care for your people, I'm going to do everything I can. But if I can't, I hope you feel better when that ship goes up into a ball of wreckage. That you've killed your people out of spite."

Arvander says, "And *that*, Commander, is why I will not lift a finger to help. That veiled accusation which has been beneath the surface since I walked in this room. You believe that *I* have something to do with this." He turns towards the door. "Do you know I was *going* to keep my silence on this -- be cruel, as you humans say, to be kind -- to avoid shattering your illusions. But you have shown your clear contempt and what you believe of me, so allow me to suggest something: Before you craft me as the villain in this little piece, try telling the Yimaan Revolutionary Council that my price for using all of my influence with the Ferengi, and putting the next six generations of the exiled Royal Family in debt to them in the process, to stop this attack which you believe me responsible for, is that I am permitted to spend a single day, with no agenda, on the Ark. That is all. One day. Merely to walk its decks and breathe its air and speak to my people without agenda. One day to forget that I am *either* their King or a criminal to them. One day simply to be Yimaan. Tell them that. But do me the courtesy of recording the conversation, because I would so love to see your face when they not only refuse, but cut off all communication with the Federation, and go to their deaths to spite both of us. Because they would rather die than let me touch a single toe to the metal of that ship. If I thought you understood that for one second, then maybe your rebukes, and your slurs, would have meaning to me. As it is, my ministers and I will be gone by morning. Thank you for the courtesy of notifying me of the Federation's intent in this matter, Commander.""

There's a little puff from Goodwin, like all the air was popped out of him and he's slowly deflating, like a balloon. "You can try to leave tomorrow, Your Excellency, but I'll tell you I'm going to put a customs hold on your ship and make those cutters jump through hoops until I give this my try." Josh is frank, at least. "But let me ask you this - if you didn't set up this little ambush, who did? Someone from the FCA tipped off the Klingons. And if I could get you on that ship, for one day, what makes you think you could make this all stop, if you didn't set it up?"

Arvander gives Goodwin a very long look, and is frowning now. "You have the audacity both to deal falsely with me, and then to question me, Commander? You have just told me that you are going to forbid me from leaving this station. Is this *truly* how you wish things to unfold?"

"Call me old fashioned, but I want to see those people live." Goodwin waves out the wide viewports, apparently meaning the ship. "/That's/ how I want to see things unfold." He takes a deep breath. "Now if I play very close to my line on the Prime Directive, and try to make this work for you, how can I know this will all work out?"

Arvander frowns. "Do you hear yourself? Do you *hear* yourself, Commander? You have an agenda here, which you now expect to become mine, which you now expect to move planets and stations and bureaucracies for, and you are willing to trample all over my free will to have it done .... And *I* am the mercenary and *you* are the nobility?" He shakes his head. "It doesn't work that way, Goodwin. I bid you good day. Since my little ship is all I clearly have left now of my father and his efforts to restore us to our rightful house, I must insist that if it does not have clearance to depart within the hour, you will see how things unfold." He makes his way for the door now. "But a word of advice, since it is clear your diplomatic training does not actually include dealings with actual monarchs who have both the right and the expectation of being treated accordingly: When you insult a King, Goodwin, in a fit of high dudgeon and moral rectitude, only to find that might possibly be *wrong*, the next words out of your mouth should include a clear and sincere apology. If they don't, you lose." His weariness and his contempt fold in on themselves. "One hour, Goodwin." And then the Rightful King of the Yimaan People pushes his way through the door.

Arvander steps out of the conference room.

Arvander has left.

Goodwin looks like he wants to slam his hand down on the table, but, well, there are the ministers standing right there. He takes a deep breath and nods to them all, trying to get together his composure. "Good evening, gentlemen." Well. He's got an hour.

Time: Wed Oct 19 23:39:32 2005

Stardate: 55348.3

"Second Officer's Log, Stardate 55348.3

"Ever have the feeling that nineteen thousand, six hundred and thirty-three lives were resting on your shoulders? Ever have the feeling that what you were ever-so-sure-about could throw away all of those lives because you were wrong? If not, then, well, you're not the Joint Operations Commander on Station 419. I threw them all away, tossed them into gutter, because of evidence so strong, yet, apparently, evidence so wrong. There is nothing I can do now, I suppose, besides try to prepare the Yimaans for what lies ahead of them, that they seem so prepared to take so sedately.

"My only other hope is the compassion of one man, one that I insulted and cast aside. A hope that somehow, someway, I can compile a log of his people that will show him that they are worth saving with all of his fortunes and the fortunes of his future generations. A log like no other, one that can be so real that it's like walking in that world. But I'm not going to be so sure of that one.

"I've been told you learn by your mistakes on this job. I only wish there weren't so many lives that rode on my training."