A Little Diplomacy

Posted on Wed Oct 21st, 2026 @ 7:16am by Lieutenant Commander Serenity Triannth [PPC] & Lieutenant Nerinath zh'Rhilror [Lalor] & Consul Josephine Carlyle-Cragen [Lalor] & Commodore Phoenix Lalor-Richardson & Civilian Harper o’Leary [FAMILY NPC] & Captain Gary Taylor & Commander Sthilg & Commander Alicia Kelea-Salik & Commander Kyle Reece & Lieutenant Colonel Azhul Naxea & Commander Rin & Legate Andrinn Orin & Lieutenant Commander N'vok Holv & Lieutenant Anna Esquivias & Lieutenant Camryn Shepard & Lieutenant JG Savar cha'Salik hei-Surak Talek-sen-deen [PPC] [Taylor & Major Mattias Richardson [Reece] & Captain David Tonelly [Reece] & Thal'ra & Tir Lorran & Mora'thil & Civilian Deanna Kelea & Rhael'ta Zovrenn & Vevira & Merris Tal & Sava Krenn & Varesh Khar'ten

Mission: Season 6 - Episode 8- The Price of Home
Location: Aureate Spire, Zyphera Prime
Timeline: Mission Day 1 — 1900 Hours
7836 words - 15.7 OF Standard Post Measure

The Zypherans had apparently decided that the best way to convince several mutually suspicious governments to cooperate was to give them alcohol, expensive food and a spectacular view. Phoenix wasn't entirely convinced this was a bad strategy. The Aureate Spire had been transformed for the evening. Beyond its enormous curved windows, Zyphera IV filled half the sky, white-gold light spilling across the station's outer structures while hundreds of vessels moved silently through the traffic lanes beyond. Inside, the lighting had been lowered to something warm and flattering, catching against polished metal, crystalline surfaces and the pale gold ornamentation that seemed to be a feature of almost everything the Zypherans considered suitably diplomatic. There was no conference table. That had been deliberate.

Instead, small seating areas had been scattered throughout the enormous reception space. Tables offered food from several different cultures, each carefully labelled with atmospheric, biological and allergen information. Servers moved through the gathering carrying drinks in glasses of shapes Phoenix suspected had been designed primarily to make Humans worry about where they were supposed to hold them.

Music drifted somewhere in the background. Not Federation. Not Rin'thar. Not Varn. Not Ael'ven. Zypheran, presumably. Neutral even in the choice of entertainment. Phoenix stood near the entrance for a moment, watching the room fill. The uniforms of Elysium were already beginning to disappear among the colours of Circinus. Rin'thar officers stood near one of the windows, physically imposing enough that the space around them had somehow become slightly larger than everywhere else.

Members of the Varn delegation had gathered near one of the holographic installations, apparently incapable of encountering technology without examining it. The Ael'ven were easier to spot. Their faint bioluminescence moved beneath their skin in patterns Phoenix was beginning to suspect conveyed far more than their expressions did. There were Zypherans everywhere. Officials. Diplomats. Merchants. Academics.

People Phoenix couldn't immediately identify at all. And that was before she considered the representatives of the smaller powers that had come because rumours of the summit had travelled considerably faster than Phoenix would have preferred. Somewhere amongst them was High Matriarch Thal'ra. Keth Varn. Mora'thil. Tir Lorran. Rhael'ta Zovrenn. And probably several people whose names would become important before the night was finished. This wasn't the summit. Not officially. There would be speeches tomorrow. Presentations. Negotiations. Arguments over governance, resources, technology, access and who exactly would be expected to pay for the privilege of changing the strategic geography of an entire galaxy.

Tonight was supposed to be simpler. Meet people. Talk. Listen. Find out who they were before everyone sat across a table and began wanting things from one another. Phoenix had therefore given the crew unusually broad permission to attend. Senior officers were expected.
Diplomatic personnel certainly were. But scientists, engineers, medical staff, pilots, intelligence officers, counsellors, Marines and junior officers had all received invitations as well. The summit wasn't going to succeed because thirteen department heads negotiated it into existence. If this worked, hundreds of people from *Elysium* would eventually be working beside people in this room. They might as well start meeting them. A soft chime sounded. Conversations gradually quietened as Rhael'ta Zovrenn stepped onto the slightly raised central platform.

The Commander of Zyphera Prime looked almost made for the room. The colours of the reception reflected subtly across her metallic skin while her pale crystalline robes caught the light with every movement.

She waited until the room had settled. "Honoured guests." Her voice carried without ever seeming loud. “Welcome to Zyphera Prime.”
Her gaze travelled over the gathering. “You have been invited here because tomorrow you will begin discussing matters of considerable importance.” The faintest pause. “Tonight, however, the Concord has made the somewhat radical decision that you should first discover whether you can tolerate one another for the duration of a meal.” A few scattered laughs moved through the room.

Phoenix's mouth twitched.

Rhael'ta continued with perfect seriousness. “Tomorrow there will be agendas. Tonight there are none.”

Phoenix doubted that enormously.

“There will be no formal negotiations this evening. No motions. No votes. No commitments will be recognised as binding by the Zypheran Concord.” Another tiny pause. “For the reassurance of several delegations, I am informed this includes commitments made after consuming beverages from the Lorahn table.”

That earned a louder response.

Somewhere in the room, Phoenix suspected Tir Lorran was delighted. Rhael'ta lifted her glass. “Circinus has no shortage of borders. Nor grievances. Nor histories explaining why cooperation is impossible.” Her amber eyes briefly found Phoenix amongst the crowd. “Perhaps this evening we might begin with something considerably less ambitious.”

She looked around the room. “Conversation.” Glasses rose throughout the reception. “To new conversations.”

Phoenix lifted hers with everyone else. Around her, the reception came alive again. And just like that, the room fractured into dozens of possibilities. A Rin'thar warrior was studying the Starfleet contingent with undisguised curiosity. Two Varn technicians were having what looked suspiciously like an argument over a piece of Zypheran architecture. An Ael'ven scholar had stopped beside one of the panoramic windows, watching the arriving ships rather than the people. Tir Lorran had somehow acquired a small audience. Merris Tal was moving through the reception with a PADD, quietly correcting problems before most people realised they existed.

Near one of the quieter balconies, Sava Krenn appeared to be doing absolutely nothing. Which, Phoenix was beginning to understand, usually meant she was doing something. And there were dozens of others. Delegates. Aides. Traders. Officials. Scientists. Security personnel. People who wanted Erebus built. People who feared it. People who didn't yet know enough to decide. Phoenix took a drink from her glass. The summit would begin tomorrow. Tonight? Tonight they had a party. And somewhere in a room filled with strangers, allies, rivals, opportunists and potential enemies, the future of Elysium was already being negotiated. Whether anyone admitted it or not.

Sthilg being Sthilg first reaction, of course, was for the health of his fellowship mates. Using the guise of making a choice of food, he carefully ran a quick scan over the food. Thankfully, nothing seemed like it could harm any of the ship, so the gorn helped himself to a small selection. Looking around the old gorn looked for any of his shipmates.

Rin picked up a drink that was contained in something akin to a wine glass. That was as good a qualification as any. She took a sip and tried not to wince at the taste. Poor choice, it seemed. But it would be bad manners to abandon it, and, anyway, that would require making another choice in drink roulette. So she dialed down her brain's sensitivity to signals from her taste buds and continued to sip.

She wasn't sure where to start. This wasn't her thing. So she took her drink and circled the room, taking in what she could see and hear while admiring the architecture of the room and the views outside.

Tir Lorran swept through the room, greeting friends, allies, and enemies with equal gusto. His eyefeed identified RIn as part of the Elysium's crew. "Command Lieutenant Rin?" he asked. "I am Tir Lorran, I believe we will be working together." He plucked the glass from her hand. "You do not want that," He set the glass on a hovering tray and plucked a glass of slightly fluorescent orange liquid. "I think this will suit you more." He handed it to Rin.

He looked around the room. "Quite a reception, no?"

"It is," Rin responded. "I am Commander Rin, and this welcome is indeed impressive. Compliments to all involved."

She took a sip of the offered drink. "I'm curious. What makes you think this is more suitable?"

With a gesture to the assembled food and drink. "There is nothing here I have not tried. My skill as an expert in matching customer to product is nearly unrivaled." Tir Lorran smiled. "Now tell me if I am correct."

Rin considered the drink for a long moment, frowning at it. "Sorry to say... you're still off for this particular customer."

She knew a power play when she saw it. Taking away her drink as if she was a child, informing her he knew better than her, she wasn't playing into that. "You mentioned working together. In which capacity can I assist? I'm going to be pulled in a million directions."

As the gathered representatives moved about, talking, joking, drinking and eating, a glass of a rose-colored sparkling wine was presented to Phoenix from someone on her right. The voice that followed the offered drink was one that she would recognize anywhere. "Doc told me that the food and drinks, most of 'em at least, seem perfectly safe for us to consume." Major Mattias Richardson stated to his wife in a soft tone. Like everyone else, he was dressed in his dress uniform. However, unlike the regular Starfleet dress uniform, the Starfleet Marines had a regular parade dress uniform, and a much more refined black-tie event dress uniform. Traditionally, it was cut closer to how the uniform had looked, nearly 400 years prior. A starched white tuxedo shirt and crisply pressed dress slacks, with the blood red stripe along the outer seam on the legs (if the Marine in question had seen combat), a cumberbund and bow tie, then a tuxedo-style jacket, replete with the individual's full display of awards and decorations, on both sides of the upper chest, officer ranks displayed on the shoulders, and on the sleeves, the rank (for enlisted), and chevrons on the outer left sleeve, each one indicating three years of service, and on the outer right arm, dashes stacked in a similar fashion, with each of them indicating six consecutive months in combat. Mattias's uniform was covered in the many decorations and awards he had earned during his many years serving in the Corps.

Phoenix took the glass and smiled faintly as she took a sip. "The doctor is always looking out for us" She said with a warm tone. She let her gaze sweep him almost casually but that was for those who didn't know her or him. The look was way more personal. "Major, shouldn't you be with the Diplomats? Or did you leave them with Jason?"

Mattias grinned softly as he felt his wife's eyes moved over his features and uniform. Though his eyes were working the room, it was clear that she had his attention. "The kids and I are shuffling the deck a bit. This way, one of us is always with the diplomats, and the other can scan through the room easier, looking for any threats." His eyes finally fell on hers. "Have I ever told you how absolutely radiant you are, my Quern?" The question was asked just quiet enough for Phoenix to hear.

Phoenix's smile widened. “Only when you're trying to get yourself out of trouble.” She took another sip of the rose-coloured wine, her eyes lingering on her husband for a moment longer than was strictly appropriate for a Commodore attending an interstellar diplomatic reception.

Not that she particularly cared. She had spent almost eleven months dealing with people who wanted to kill them, capture them, exploit them or prevent them from leaving. If she wanted to admire her husband in his dress uniform, she was going to admire her husband in his dress uniform. “And for the record, Major, I think you're looking rather presentable yourself.” Her gaze travelled over the decorations on his jacket. "Although I do wonder whether you have enough medals there to stop a disruptor blast.”

She stepped a little closer, lowering her voice. “Don't answer that. I know you'll tell me you've tested it.” Phoenix smiled and briefly touched his arm. The temptation to abandon the reception entirely was considerable. Unfortunately, somewhere in the room were several governments whose cooperation they needed, a collection of industrial interests who could probably purchase half the station, and at least one individual who would undoubtedly try to sell them their own ship if given the opportunity. Duty, apparently, had appalling timing. She glanced toward the gathering. “I'm glad you and the kids have the diplomats covered. I'd rather tonight didn't end with someone challenging someone else to a duel over the seating arrangements.” A pause. " Or the drinks.”

Her expression softened as she looked back at him. “You know, I almost wish this was just a party.” She let the thought sit between them for a moment. “No negotiations. No wondering whether the people smiling at us are already calculating what they can get in exchange for helping us.” She glanced out toward Zyphera IV. “Just you, me, a spectacular view and an evening where nobody needs anything from us.” Then she looked back at him, her familiar mischievous smile returning. “Unfortunately, I invited half the galaxy.” Phoenix reached up and straightened a perfectly straight section of his jacket. “So, Major Richardson, since you've apparently appointed yourself my personal security escort for the evening…” She offered him her arm. “…how about you escort your Commodore around the room and help her find someone who isn't going to ask for the complete technical specifications of Erebus before dessert?” She leaned slightly closer. “And if we're very lucky, we might even find somewhere to dance.”

Mattias's smile glowed a bit brighter, though he was professional enough to keep it discreet. He took his wife's right arm and tucked it under his left. The two of them began walking through the gathering, smiling and speaking with the various delegates and representatives that had assembled from across the region. After a while, once the conversations seem to naturally ebb away, the party feel of the night began to take hold more.

Mattias led Phoenix out onto what had become the dance floor and, along with the other couples, and even a thruple, they began to dance to the melodic tunes that were being played by the assembled musical group group of ten separate species from Circinus, each playing an instrument almost totally alien in its function, until it was played.

Phoenix leaned against him as they danced.

===

Alicia stood alongside her father, mother, and beloved husband. With all the various delegations in the hall alongside those from the ship she’d opted for the unusual choice of wearing a neural inhibitor along with her dress uniform. It was only there to dial down the input her mind was getting not to block it, just to give her mind and empathic senses a little less input for a more enjoyable evening. “The food looks interesting, but I’ve no idea what to try first.”

“There is quite the array of choice” Deanna nodded in agreement. “Your father has already made sure it’s, shall we say, palatable?” She smiled. “What would you suggest we start with?” She looked towards Sthilg.

Savar stood in his dress white uniform beside Alicia, her mother and Sthilg. He had not wanted to come, felt he had no place but Alicia had insisted and he would do all he could to support her. "Perhaps a refreshment or something to snack on from the buffet?" He suggested.

“My thoughts exactly, I just wish I knew what to choose!” Alicia gazed at the buffet then back at Savar. “I’ve barely an idea what any of these dishes are.”

"Which color appeals to you Alicia?" Savar asked as he looked at the assorted brightly colored food.

“I’ve no idea.” Alicia gave her father a look seeing what he’d recommend after having discreetly checked the food. “What do you think father?”

" The sssmall meat cubesss taste like a very sssmoky chicken, the green jello tassstsss oldly of squasssh and the flaky white meat is a very sssweet fish. " Sthilg replied as he downed another of the small foods. He was certainly putting in great effort to make sure they were safe.

Alicia smiled. “Thank you, at least that gives us a good idea.”

Savar looked to the Gorn MD and Alicia's adoptive father to hear his recommendation on the food selections.

Andrinn walked into the massive reception hall where the party was happening in his dress uniform. He was fighting it cause that's what everyone does, right? Fight with your dress uniform's collar until it decided to work or fit. But, once inside, Andrinn quit messing with it because he'd only keep picking at it.

Andrinn started to look around and walked over to a nearby table to get a drink, slowly taking the first few sips of it.

Camryn approached the doorway of the reception. She’d spent the entire night and morning reviewing the specifications they had to work on. It appeared massive, requiring her entire department and potentially the assistance of the whole ship while keeping her sanity and the entirety of their new allies to build this. However, the motto she heard someone once say.

‘To build something great, you first must destroy it.’

It stuck to Cam like a sticky grenade throughout her life. However, despite being wholly out of her depth, she kept her head on and against the rushing current of her new obligations. Straightening out her uniform and tightening up the bun of her blonde hair, she went straight for a table. She noted Andrinn next to it and offered a quiet smile, “Excuse me, sorry.”

Taking a cup, she poured herself a drink before taking a refreshing sip. She nodded awkwardly, speaking, “Hey.”

Andrinn had started tugging at his collar again as Cam came by. "Sorry," Andrinn said as he stepped aside and kept tugging at the dress uniform. "The one thing I hate about being a diplomat? Having to wear dress uniforms way too dang often!" Andrinn told Cam as he chuckled and finally got the uniform just right.

"What's that you're drinking? That's....an unusual color for a drink," Andrinn said as he pointed to the liquid in the cup Cam was drinking from now.

Cam smacked her lips, shrugging. Studying her drink, she replied, "It tastes a bit fruity. Color don't matter much. I'm part Klingon, so drinking Bloodwine has given me some high tolerance for whatever this gives me. I'll have to visit the doc later. Hows yours?"

She pointed at his drink.

Andrinn looked at the drink in his own hand and said, "Well, since I've been on the Klingon Homeworld and drank bloodwine straight from the source, this is interesting in comparison too. Even drank Romulan Ale. Almost tastes like a vodka cranberry from Earth with a little something more. Might need to visit our dear doctor later too, especially with the gut slug. Don't know yet."

Andrinn shrugged and took another sip of his drink.

===

Thal’Ra stood among the Rin’Thar Coalition. Tall and proud with a leonide build, she tried to not appear imposing. However, she couldn’t care less about how they see her. Observing the events with her arms folded behind her back, she wore her diplomat uniform with a long flowing cape of dark red against her black fabric. It matched her dark, silvery appearance. After the speech, she’d take her drink and leave it behind. Now she prowled among her friends, allies and newfound guests from another galaxy.

Eying the entrance, her predatory instincts spied a certain blonde haired half Klingon with gold rimmed black diplomatic uniform of an engineer slink in. The engineer with two pips on her collar headed straight for a table. Shaking her head lightly at her tardiness, she moved along while observing the new guests. One of them was bound to approach her or she would speak to them to assess their reasons and whether she should help them or not.

Serenity had been watching the Rin’thar. Not staring. There was a distinction, and as a lawyer she was perfectly prepared to argue it. She had attended enough formal receptions during her career to recognise their real purpose. The food and drink were decoration. The speeches established tone. The carefully arranged opportunities for apparently accidental conversation were anything but accidental. Tonight everyone was studying everyone else. Serenity was no exception. Her attention had returned several times to High Matriarch Thal’ra. The briefing material had been extensive, but there was a difference between reading about someone and seeing them occupy a room. Thal’ra did not appear to seek attention. She simply possessed enough presence that the room seemed obliged to provide it anyway. Eventually Serenity decided observation had reached the limits of usefulness. She collected a drink from a passing server, more for something to do with one hand than from any particular desire to consume it, and crossed the reception. She stopped at a respectful distance from the Rin’thar leader. “High Matriarch Thal’ra?”

Serenity inclined her head politely. “Lieutenant Commander Serenity Triannth. Judge Advocate General's Office, USS Elysium.” A slight smile. “I suspect that makes me either one of the more interesting people you could meet this evening…” Her eyes flicked briefly toward the diplomats circulating around them. “…or one of the people everyone has been hoping to avoid.”

She allowed the humour to sit for a moment. “I've been reading about Rin’thar law.” That was perhaps not the most conventional opening at a reception. Which was precisely why Serenity had chosen it. “Specifically, your oaths.” Her expression became more thoughtful. “Starfleet tends to treat treaties as documents. Terms, obligations, enforcement provisions, mechanisms for withdrawal.” She glanced around the reception. "And I suspect before this summit is finished, I'm going to spend a great deal of time discussing all four.” Her attention returned fully to Thal’ra. “But my understanding is that a blood-oath is something considerably different.” Serenity paused. “So I hope you'll forgive the lawyer in me for asking.” A slight smile returned. “If a Rin’thar gives their blood-oath to an agreement…” She tilted her head. “…what happens when keeping the oath requires them to do something they believe is wrong?”

Thal'ra nodded, listening. She carefully processed her words and replied, "A blood-oath is sacred. We do not casually make it and we face the consequences afterwards. That is the price of meaning."

Serenity considered Thal’ra's answer, turning her glass slowly between her fingers. “The price of meaning.” She repeated the words thoughtfully. “That's an interesting distinction. In Federation law, we generally prefer agreements that anticipate the possibility of circumstances changing. We build in provisions for amendment, withdrawal and, occasionally, the consequences of a party failing to fulfil its obligations.” A faint smile touched her lips. "Lawyers are rather fond of escape clauses.”

She glanced briefly around the reception before returning her attention to the High Matriarch. “But I suspect you would consider an oath considerably less meaningful if someone could simply renegotiate it whenever keeping it became inconvenient.” Serenity paused. “Which brings me to something I've been wondering about.” She lowered her glass. “Tomorrow, we're going to begin discussing an agreement that may bind several civilisations together for generations. Some of those civilisations have been enemies. Others have entirely different ideas about honour, obligation and justice.” Her expression became more serious. “Suppose a Rin’thar commander swears a blood-oath to defend an ally. Years later, that ally commits an atrocity and demands the commander's assistance in defending the people responsible.”
She studied Thal’ra. “Does the commander fulfil the oath because it is sacred? Refuse because honour demands it? Or is there something in Rin’thar law that distinguishes loyalty to an ally from obedience to their every demand?” A small, almost apologetic smile returned.
“Forgive me, High Matriarch. I promise I don't usually interrogate people at receptions.” She took a sip of her drink. “Although I suspect that by the end of this summit, you and I may have considerably more to discuss than either of us anticipated.”

===

N'vok moved through the crowd in his scholarly robes, watching and observing for the moment. There was much to take in, much to learn.

Dr. Vaelis Thenn had been told to enjoy the reception. He had interpreted this instruction as an opportunity to identify which members of the Elysium delegation might actually understand the mathematics behind the proposed transit aperture. So far, he had been unsuccessful.
He was a tall, slender Zypheran whose copper-toned metallic skin reflected the warm lighting of the reception. His formal jacket was immaculate, although the scientific instruments concealed in its pockets rather spoiled the intended effect. He spotted N'vok observing the gathering and approached with a glass in one hand and a small holographic projector in the other. "Lieutenant Commander N'vok?"
He inclined his head. "Doctor Vaelis Thenn. Concord Institute of Applied Physics."

A faint smile appeared. "I apologise for interrupting your evening. I have been instructed by our diplomatic office that I am not permitted to discuss the proposed transit aperture until tomorrow." He glanced down at the projector. "Unfortunately, they neglected to specify whether I was permitted to discuss the underlying mathematics." A small hologram appeared above his palm. It displayed a series of spatial equations, followed by a field-stability simulation. After several seconds, the simulated field collapsed. Vaelis regarded the result with obvious irritation. "Every time I attempt to model a sustained aperture, the exit coordinates begin drifting before the field reaches operational stability."

He looked at N'vok. "Your preliminary research suggests you have encountered a similar problem." The hologram vanished. "Tell me, Lieutenant Commander. Have you been approaching the instability as a navigational problem or a problem with the underlying spatial geometry?" His expression brightened. "Because if it is the latter, I believe we may have been making precisely the same mistake."

===

The six-limbed Zethari stopped several paces from the group surrounding the buffet. Vevira watched them. Then she watched the food.
Then Sthilg. Her antennae shifted. “I have a question.” There was no introduction. “You scanned the food before consuming it.” Her faceted eyes settled upon Sthilg. “Which suggests you did not trust the people who provided it.” A pause. “Yet having determined it would not poison you, you ate it.” Her bronze-green carapace gave a faint shimmer. “So now you trust the machine that examined the food.”

Vevira looked between Alicia, Savar and Deanna. “I find myself wondering at which point trust actually occurred.” Only then did she seem to remember something. “Ah.” One hand touched her chest. “Arch-Dean Vevira.” A pause. “Forgive me. I occasionally introduce the question before myself.”

“It’s nice to meet you” Alicia smiled politely. “I am Commander Alicia Kelea-Salik, please call me Alicia, these are my family. My father Commander Sthilg, my mother Deanna Kelea, and my husband Commander Savar. In answer to your question it’s not a matter of trust in the machine, or the food we have never seen anything like the food here which is a little confusing knowing what is best to eat. Some species have strict dietary needs, and some may have conditions that require a strictly controlled diet that avoids certain additives found in our foods.”

Deanna nodded in agreement. “I hope we don’t seem in any way ungrateful for the wonderful array of foods on offer here.” She smiled.

"It is better to err on the side of caution than to regret it later." Savar added.

Vevira listened to Alicia's explanation with considerable interest, her antennae shifting as she considered each point. “Ah. Then perhaps I have framed my question incorrectly.” She inclined her head toward Deanna. “And no offence has been taken. I would consider it considerably more offensive if my hosts expected me to consume something potentially harmful merely to demonstrate gratitude.”
One of her hands gestured toward the food. “Your explanation is interesting, Alicia. You are not questioning whether the Zypherans intend to feed you safely. You are questioning whether they possess sufficient knowledge of your biology to succeed.” She looked toward Savar. “And your husband suggests that caution is preferable to discovering an error through experience.” Her carapace shimmered faintly. “Entirely reasonable.” Vevira paused. “Although I suspect there is a rather important distinction between accepting someone's good intentions and trusting their ability to achieve the intended result.”

She looked toward Sthilg. “Your father appears to have resolved that particular difficulty by introducing an independent source of evidence.”
Her antennae lifted. “Which brings me to a question I suspect we shall be discussing considerably more often over the coming days.”
She gestured vaguely toward the reception. “Your people have travelled an extraordinary distance. Now you propose to construct something that requires several civilisations to contribute technologies none of them entirely understands in combination.”

A thoughtful pause. “Presumably everyone involved will have excellent intentions.” There was just enough humour in her voice to suggest she knew how optimistic that sounded. “But when the time comes to activate your machine, whose judgement will you trust?” She glanced once more at the buffet. “And will anyone have thought to scan the finished product before attempting to consume it?”

“I see your point” Alicia nodded and smiled. “Everything will be cautiously considered last thing we want if for anything we do to cause any harm here. As much as we’d like to get home, we won’t risk causing problems for others in that attempt. Commodore Lalor is acutely aware of the risks and possible outcomes, we just hope we can all come to a suitable agreement.”

" My dear, when you reach my age of nearly two hundred yearsss you will alwaysss like to get a ssseconed opnion when encontering the unknown." Still politely replied. " But i mussst sssay if there is one thing i do trussst it isss ssstarfleet ablity to do the impossssible."

"A very true and logical statement." Savar replied. "Starfleet has a penchant for doing the impossible."

===

Merris Tal moved through the reception with her PADD in one hand and the unmistakable expression of a woman solving twelve problems simultaneously. She stopped. Looked at her PADD. Looked up. Then directly at the nearest Elysium Operations or Flight officer. “Excellent.” Apparently they had just volunteered for something. Merris approached. “I require an opinion from someone accustomed to moving several thousand tonnes of starship through spaces in which several thousand tonnes of starship were not necessarily intended to fit.”

She turned the PADD around. A complicated schematic of Zyphera Prime's docking traffic appeared. “Tomorrow morning I have three diplomatic transports, two commercial vessels, a Rin’thar support ship and something registered as a ‘private recreational conveyance’ all requesting overlapping approach corridors.” She paused. “The recreational conveyance is larger than two of the warships.”
Merris looked up. “Would you care to save me from committing a minor act of interstellar homicide?”

===

Sava Krenn had been doing an excellent impression of someone attending a reception alone. She stood near one of the quieter balconies, drink untouched, apparently interested in the traffic beyond the windows. When one of Elysium's security personnel passed nearby, she spoke without looking around. “You have an interesting problem.” A beat. “Everyone here knows what your uniforms look like.” She finally turned. “Which makes observing people without being observed yourself considerably more difficult.” Her eyes moved briefly across the room. “Fortunately, most diplomats spend so much time looking for important people that they rarely notice anyone else.” A faint smile.
“Sava Krenn.” She raised her glass slightly. “And before you ask, no. I am not a diplomat.” Another pause. “I have a respectable profession.”
Her smile widened. “I sell information.”

"Then it's a good thing I have this uniform so you know who to talk to," Rin replied. She gave a slight nod. "Commander Rin. Is there something on the table?"

Sava's smile shifted slightly. Not wider. Sharper. “Direct. Good.” She finally turned away from the window, resting one shoulder lightly against the railing. “There is always something on the table, Commander. The difficulty is determining whether you're looking at the meal, the payment, or the person being served.” Her eyes moved briefly across the reception before returning to Rin. "But no. I'm not here to sell you anything.” A small pause. “Yet.” Sava took the smallest sip from her glass. “I was curious.” She nodded toward the gathering. “For several weeks, people on Zyphera Prime have been asking questions about long-range transit. Old routes. Abandoned installations. Thaih’ea aperture sites. Places ships disappeared and occasionally places they were never supposed to have reached in the first place.”

Her expression remained casual. “The sort of questions that are expensive because the answers are buried.” Another pause. “Then your ship arrives.” Sava glanced toward Rin. “And suddenly everyone is whispering about a gate.” She let the word sit between them. “What interests me isn't that people are asking now.” Her eyes returned to the traffic beyond the windows. “It's that some of them were asking **before you arrived**.” Sava lifted her glass slightly. “So perhaps there is something on the table after all.” A faint smile returned. “But I haven't decided whether I'm selling yet.” She looked back at Rin. “Tell me, Commander.” Her eyes watched Rin carefully. “Does that surprise you?”

Rin cocked head slightly. "Surprised that you haven't decided if you're selling? Why would that be surprising? You're shopping around, trying to get a better idea on value, gauging what other info might make everything more profitable, etc etc....That's your profession."

What a weird question.

"As far as the chatter is concerned....yes, I'm aware the chatter exists, so you're not surprising me there. Its timing is very curious, and I do have interest in it: what's being said, who's saying it, and why now. Because I want to go home, and I don't want this to blow up in anyone's face. Because then everyone has a very bad day. So...what are you suggesting?"

Sava gave a quiet laugh. “Commander, if I were shopping around for the highest bidder, I wouldn't have approached someone wearing a Starfleet uniform. Your people have an unfortunate reputation and no one knows what happens to information after you've purchased it, yet.” She turned her glass slowly between her fingers. “And for objecting when the seller offers the same information to your enemies.”
Her expression became a little more serious. “What I'm suggesting is that your ship's arrival has made an existing market considerably more interesting. People have been purchasing fragments of old transit records for longer than your people have been discussing this gate.”
She glanced toward the reception. “Not all of them are asking the same questions. Some want coordinates. Others want construction records. A few seem considerably more interested in knowing which installations were deliberately abandoned.” Sava looked back at Rin.

“And some of those requests have come through enough intermediaries that I suspect the buyers would be deeply unhappy to discover someone was comparing their purchases.” She took another small sip. “I can tell you what I've seen. I cannot necessarily tell you who was standing at the beginning of every transaction.” A faint smile returned. “And before you ask, no, I'm not giving you my clients' identities simply because you asked politely.” She paused. “But there may be something else worth discussing.” Sava inclined her head toward the gathering. “If you want to know why people are suddenly so interested in your proposed gate, perhaps you should start by asking what they were looking for before anyone knew you could build one.” Her expression turned almost mischievous. “Now, Commander, are you asking me to sell you information, or are you proposing we exchange some?”

Rin inwardly sighed. Of course she wasn't going to just ask politely for Sava's clients' identities. She was curious as to Starfleet's "unfortunate reputation." There was, of course, the recent incident at Niea IV, and she did wonder how other people were viewing that, but that had nothing to do with information gathering nor dealmaking. She might ask later. But ,at this moment, Sava might see it as asking for free info.

"Exchange." Rin replied.

OOC: To be continued in another post

===

Rhael’ta had spent enough years hosting diplomatic functions to recognise the people who were attending because duty required it rather than because they enjoyed them. Her amber gaze eventually settled on Commander Taylor. She approached with a glass held loosely in one hand. “Commander Taylor.” There was that impeccably courteous smile. “I have met your Commodore. I have read considerably more about your ship than I suspect your crew would find comfortable.” A tiny pause. “But Executive Officers are frequently where the difference between what a commanding officer intends and what actually occurs becomes apparent.” Her expression acquired the faintest hint of amusement. “So perhaps you might tell me something your reports cannot.” She gestured toward the room. “How is your crew, Commander? Not your ship. Your crew.”

Gary turned at the voice, a smile on his face. He saw the woman glass in hand as she approached him. After she had finished , he replied. "Before we continued, I'm afraid I must correct you. I am a Captain and not a Commander and as how the crew is, I would say united in the desire to get home. To see familiar places and people. They have come a long way and they know there is still a long way to go but has I said they are united in both the effort and desire to return home. Does that answer your question satisfactory?"

Rhael’ta's smile did not falter, although the slight inclination of her head acknowledged the correction immediately. “Captain Taylor. My apologies.” There was no attempt to excuse the mistake. “And yes. It answers the question I asked.” She took a small sip from her glass.
“But perhaps not quite the question I meant.” Her amber eyes moved briefly across the reception. There were members of Elysium's crew everywhere now, scattered among people who had been strangers to them only months ago. “Unity of purpose is valuable. Particularly after what your people have endured.” She looked back at Gary. “But wanting the same destination does not necessarily mean everyone arrives there carrying the same things.” A pause. “Your crew has lost people. They have found others. They have formed relationships here. Some have responsibilities that did not exist when your ship first arrived in Circinus.” Rhael’ta's voice remained gentle rather than interrogative. “Eleven months is long enough for survival to become life, Captain.” She glanced toward the windows and the galaxy beyond them. “And now you are asking them to believe that home may be possible again.” Her attention returned to him.

“I am less interested in whether they want to return. I suspect almost all of them do.” A faint, thoughtful smile. “I am interested in what happens when returning stops being an impossible wish and becomes a decision they may actually have to make.” She let that settle before adding quietly, “As their Executive Officer, are they talking to you about that?”

"You are talking about when a dream becomes realty." Gary replied. "And so far no one has broached the subject with me. Which doesn't mean conversations aren't coming just none so far. I honestly don't see it being a problem. This crew has endured and been through and overcome so much together, I don't see them not sticking together to make the last steps home." He paused, "I could be wrong but I don't think so."

Rhael’ta considered Gary's response for several moments. “Then I hope you are correct, Captain.” She smiled faintly. “Not because I doubt your crew's determination. Quite the opposite. Everything I have learned about Elysium suggests that your people are remarkably accomplished at surviving circumstances that should have destroyed them.” Her gaze drifted briefly toward the panoramic windows.
“But I have spent a considerable portion of my career negotiating agreements between people who were absolutely certain they wanted the same thing.” She looked back at him. “Until they discovered that they disagreed about what achieving it would actually mean.”

Rhael’ta took a sip from her glass. “Nevertheless, I find your confidence reassuring. I suspect your Commodore requires someone who can remind her that the people she commands are capable of considerably more than she sometimes believes.” A small, knowing smile appeared. “Although I imagine the reverse is equally true.” She glanced toward the gathering, where representatives from several governments were engaged in animated conversation. “Tomorrow, Captain, we will begin discussing the construction of something that could fundamentally alter the balance of power throughout Circinus.” Her expression grew thoughtful. “Every government represented here will have its own definition of success. Some will want security. Others, wealth. Some will want influence. Others will simply want to ensure their enemies do not obtain any of those things.” She turned her attention fully toward Gary. “Your crew, however, has something none of them possesses.” She gave it a second. “A reason to leave.” Rhael’ta lowered her glass. “That may prove to be your greatest advantage during these negotiations. Or it may become the very thing someone attempts to exploit.” Her smile returned, though it was a little less formal this time. “Tell me, Captain. If we succeed in building this gate, and your ship passes through it…” She gestured toward the magnificent station surrounding them. “…what do you believe your people will remember about Circinus?”

Gary listened in thoughtful silence as Rhael'ta spoke and made observations. When she asked her question and now awaited his answer he didn't rush a reply. Instead his mind thought of all they had incurred since the collision with the quantum filament that now seemed and eternity ago. The deaths of so many. Their making their way to the Class-P planet to affect repairs. The encounter with slavers and freeing of prisoners. More deaths Lia for one. The attack of a hostile race and the joining with the Romulans to fight as allies to repel them. Most recently the encounter with the Lonians and their kidnapping of several Elysium crewmembers. The firefight that had ensued and the safe return of all those taken.

His gaze settled on Rhael'ta as he replied to see her reaction to his answer. "Their amazing ability to adapt and overcome all they have encountered both good and bad and still remain positive, the faith they have and still maintain, hopeful that their journey will end in success, Faith is a remarkable motivator."

Rhael’ta listened with genuine interest, her amber eyes remaining on Gary as he spoke. There was something rather refreshing about the Captain's confidence in his people. She had encountered commanders who measured their crews in terms of efficiency, readiness and the successful completion of objectives. Captain Taylor, however, spoke of faith. "Faith," she repeated thoughtfully. "An interesting answer, Captain. And perhaps a more revealing one than you realise." She turned her glass slowly between her fingers, watching the light catch against its surface. "Most of the governments represented here place their faith in something tangible. Military strength. Economic influence. Technological superiority. Treaties that promise protection against enemies who signed very similar treaties with someone else." A faint smile touched her lips.

"Your people appear to place theirs in one another. After everything you have described, I imagine that is no small achievement." Her gaze moved towards the gathering. Across the reception hall, Starfleet officers were mingling with individuals whose governments had spent generations regarding one another with suspicion. Some conversations were animated, others cautious. A few appeared to be going remarkably well, considering the circumstances.

"Yet I wonder whether your people will remember Circinus quite as simply as that." She looked back at Gary. "You have spoken of what your crew has overcome. But there are people in this galaxy who will remember your ship for entirely different reasons. Those you rescued. Those you fought beside. Those who lost people during encounters with your vessel. And those whose lives have changed simply because you arrived." Rhael’ta paused, allowing the thought to settle. "To some, Elysium will be remembered as a ship that brought hope. To others, perhaps a dangerous disruption to an established order. History has a rather inconvenient habit of refusing to provide everyone with the same interpretation of events." There was no accusation in her voice. If anything, she sounded mildly amused by the observation. "And now, of course, you propose to help construct something that may alter the future of this galaxy long after your ship has departed."

She gestured lightly towards the panoramic windows, where the distant lights of arriving vessels moved against the darkness. "Imagine it, Captain. Generations from now, children on worlds neither of us has visited may learn about the arrival of a Federation starship from another galaxy. They may be taught that your people helped unite governments that had never previously managed to agree on anything of significance." Her expression became more thoughtful. "Or they may be taught that your desperation to return home created a technology their ancestors spent centuries struggling to control." She raised one hand slightly. "Neither outcome is inevitable, of course. That is rather the purpose of tomorrow's discussions." Rhael’ta took another small sip from her glass before continuing. "You see, Captain, I am less concerned with whether your people possess sufficient faith to reach home. I suspect you have already demonstrated that. What interests me is whether that same faith can be extended to the people who must help you get there."

A small, almost conspiratorial smile appeared. "Because I assure you, some of the individuals in this room are considerably more difficult to believe in than others." She glanced towards the delegates before returning her attention to Gary. "Your Commodore will be asked to trust governments she barely knows. Those governments will be asked to trust a Federation they have never encountered. And all of us will be asked to believe that an undertaking of unprecedented complexity can be accomplished without allowing our respective fears to destroy it." She paused. "That is rather a great deal of faith to ask of strangers, wouldn't you agree?"

Gary listened in attentive silence as Rhael'ta spoke of the Elysium, her crew the delegates gathered here and the governments they represent. When she had finished with her statement/observation he inclined his head in a short nod. "Well said and equally well observed. My compliments to you on your insight to what the Elysium may represent, it's journey as well as the upcoming conference. I wholeheartedly agree it is a great deal of faith to not only ask of strangers but also of one's self. I consider myself a realistic optimist. I believe in the best outlooks but am grounded enough to know that is often an unattainable view. Still one has hope or perhaps faith is the better word and faith begins with each of us and that this project can come to fruition and be beneficial to all."

OFF- TBC