Durella VI is an airless cinder orbiting a sullen M-type dwarf star that wouldn't even merit a name if it wasn't for the Reman mining settlements in the system. The Falcon comes out of warp a half million kilometres from the planet, and I start to get that nasty, antsy, unsettled feeling as I study the tactical display.
"That's a Vulcan ship," I say.
"Confirmed," says Saval from the science station. "VSS Naraull, listed on a mission to perform mineralogical surveys for the Ministry of Science."
"And what's wrong with being a mineralogist? It's a perfectly respectable profession." Blank looks all around the bridge - well, all right, that reference is a bit obscure even by my standards. "All right. Face-ache. Any word from the Remans?"
"Communications with the mining settlement are still down," the comms ensign reports.
"Their last distress call mentioned Romulan warbirds. That's not a warbird." */*confirmed---configuration mismatch*/* yes, thanks, Two of Twelve, it's good to know I can rely on you for the bleedin' obvious.
"Initiating tachyon scan for cloaked ships," says Saval.
"No need," says Tallasa. "Tactical scan has them... on the surface. Three T'Varos landed by the main mining settlement."
"Yeah, well," I say, "do the tachyon scan anyway, on account of Roms is sneaky. Something about this," I add pensively, "does not add up right." */*reassessing standard tactical patterns in light of species 3783 political realignments---main tactical data library offline---reconnect---priority---reconne
I ignore Two of Twelve's whining. "Go to red alert."
"Sir?" Tallasa looks surprised.
"You heard me. Flashy lights, air horns, all the works. Something is not right here, and I don't want to get caught with my pants down."
The alert sirens make a heck of a noise, but they don't drown out the comms ensign saying, "Signal from the Vulcan ship, sir."
"Righty-ho. On screen."
The Vulcan commander is stout and middle-aged and very ordinary looking, except he looks... I'm not sure... shifty, somehow. Vulcans aren't good at shifty. "I am Commander Tunat of the VSS Naraull," he says. "How may we be of assistance?"
"Veronika Grau, USS Falcon, call me Ronnie, everyone does. You're supposed to be doing a mineralogical survey, right? Have you spotted those funny-shaped rocks on that planet, the ones that look like Romulan warbirds?"
If he looks any shiftier, he's going to shift right off the edge of the screen. "We are responding to a request for assistance from the Hegemony of Bresar," he says. "They are engaged in the resolution of a dispute with the Reman miners in this system, and have asked for the Naraull's support."
"Resolution of a dispute, huh? Should have asked me, I'm good at resolving disputes - aren't I, team?" Marked lack of vocal support from my bridge crew. Never mind. "Sometimes I resolve 'em so hard, people forget what they were disputing about in the first place. The Reman miners got off a general distress call before those warbirds landed, though, so I guess it's not going to slip their minds easily. All right. I'm going to be all nice and friendly and Starfleet, and help resolve this particular dispute. Helm, how long to transporter range?"
"Ten minutes, sir," says Jhemyl. "But there's a problem. There's an inhibiting field blocking comms and transport -"
"The Hegemony commanders were particularly insistent," Tunat says, "that their dealings with the Remans should not be interrupted. The Naraull's facilities -"
"Well," I say, "Starfleet is here now, so you can just divert the Naraull's facilities back to looking at rocks, Commander. Thank you for your assistance, and have a nice day."
"That does not accord with my instructions," says Tunat. He doesn't look shifty any more. He looks like a man who's just come to a decision... and I have a sinking feeling that tells me it's a bad one.
"Drop that damping field, Commander," I say.
"This is not a Starfleet vessel. You have no authority to issue orders to me."
Oh, dear. Little Ronnie is going to have to think hard about this one, and diplomacy is kind of not little Ronnie's favourite thing. "I'm obliged to respond to a distress call from our Republic allies," I say, "and you don't have authority to stop me, so back off, Commander Tunat."
"I also have obligations. The dispute with the Remans must be resolved in a manner satisfactory to my allies. This matter is not Starfleet's concern."
"Damping field still in effect," says Jhemyl.
"Then we'll do it the hard way," I say. "Prep every shuttle we've got, put all our assault squads into them. Load them for bear, also for wolves, lions, sharks and dinosaurs. When someone makes a move, of which we don't approve, who is it that always intervenes? Oh, and make sure they have plenty of those new Romulan turrets, you know, the ones that send jets of plasma at people I don't like. Tactical. Ships on the ground, presumed hostile. Target them." Tunat is staring at me from the screen.
"The Hegemony ships are our allies," he says faintly.
"Nuh-uh. They might be your allies, they're not the Federation's. The Federation's alliance is with the Romulan Republic, and I am going to honour that."
"I will not permit the transit of your shuttles -"
"Fire on my shuttles and I'll blow you out of space." Diplomacy. Not my strongest suit. "You want to know what I think, Commander Tunat? I think there isn't any dispute with the Remans. I think your Hegemony allies are pulling a little pirate raid, and they have dragged you along for the ride, because they think you can serve as a shield. They are down there looting those people right now, and they've left you up here as an orbiting fig leaf, trying to pretend it's all legitimate, hoping you can bluff Starfleet, hoping that a Starfleet officer won't fire on a Vulcan ship. Well, all I can say to that, Commander Tunat, is try me."
"Science officer!" Tunat shouts. "You are a Vulcan, you can see reason! What is your name?"
"I am Commander Saval," Saval says.
"Commander. Your captain is clearly unbalanced. Exercise appropriate measures, take command, remove her!"
Saval stands. His face is expressionless - well, of course it is, he's a Vulcan. "Vice Admiral Grau's eccentricities are a matter of record," he says. "Nevertheless, she has not been disqualified on that account from command responsibility. And, shorn of the various emotionalisms of which all humans tend to be guilty, I believe her assessment of this situation to be broadly accurate. Furthermore, sir, your attempt to suborn mutiny on this vessel puts you quite clearly in the wrong. I strongly recommend that you stand down."
"Well, thank you, Mr. Saval," I say, softly.
Tunat's face isn't expressionless. Maybe he's not a very good Vulcan. "I - I protest this. I will make representations in appropriate quarters."
"Represent away," I say, "once you've dropped that damping field. And we will send the assault shuttles anyway. Just to make assurance doubly sure."
"We will remember this," says Tunat. "Depend on it, Vice Admiral - your name will be remembered." He shoots a glare at Saval. "And yours."
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