To - Ambassador A'Printa, Captain Tanis.
From - Lt Commander Weatherfield
Subject - Tactical Update.
Priority - High.
Ambassador, Captain.
I am writing to you to inform you that my crew have finished their studies of what we have termed the 'Nausican Problem.' I am given to understand that both of you are somewhat interested in continuing operations against this individual and so I would offer to share our findings with you direct. Due to the sensitive nature of this information it has been kept off public data networks and I will not transfer it over open communications channels. Should you be interested in our findings, I will be awaiting at Station Deep Space Nine for the next three standard days until the 'State of Play' can be reassigned to return me to Outpost Argo.
I believe this is a matter of utmost importance.
Formal Regards,
Lyianna S Weatherfield.
The message was sent through Starfleet Channels, unencrypted but privately addressed. Sophie is indeed at DS9, along with two of her officers. Her ship is stranded at Outpost Argo with an inexplicable engine malfunction that is taking an inordinate amount of time to repair. Anyone is welcome to stumble upon/spy upon/join the meeting. However, following this I am limiting all participants including myself to no more than ten posts in this thread after which the meeting shall be concluded. Come one, come all!
A'Printa will find Sophie, as she's actually been spending her down time on DS-9 with some of her former associates (DS-9 was A'Printa's assignment prior to Argo). When folks showed up for that meet-and-greet, A'Printa just decided to see what was going on. She had already been there for some time. A'Printa shows up shortly after the letter is posted and she's dressed down in non-conforming, baggy civilian attire. It might take Sophie a moment to realize that it's even her.
A'Printa simple smiles and takes any available seat nearby. "You requested to speak with me, Lt. Commander Weatherfield? See? I remembered it was Lt. Commander this time. Definitely making progress, no?"
A'Printa simple smiles and takes any available seat nearby. "You requested to speak with me, Lt. Commander Weatherfield? See? I remembered it was Lt. Commander this time. Definitely making progress, no?"
“Computer, begin recording. Captain’s personal log,” Tanis sighs slightly, “Computer, pause, erase, resume recording. Kell Tanis, personal log….”
“…computer, end recording. Transmit to the Belleau Wood and transfer the recording to Commander Williams in one standard week.”
Kell Tanis leans back in his chair, attempting in vain to relax himself before committing to what he knows must be done.
“Message transmitted. One message returned, marked private.”
“Display message.” Tanis’s eyebrow rose as he examined the message from Lieutenant Commander Weatherfield. Maybe this mission wouldn’t be as lost a cause as he’d originally thought.
He straightened in the pilot’s chair of the Platea, a new sense of purpose hardening his resolve. “Well, at least I finally have a direction. Let’s go see what the Commander has to say.”
“…computer, end recording. Transmit to the Belleau Wood and transfer the recording to Commander Williams in one standard week.”
Kell Tanis leans back in his chair, attempting in vain to relax himself before committing to what he knows must be done.
“Message transmitted. One message returned, marked private.”
“Display message.” Tanis’s eyebrow rose as he examined the message from Lieutenant Commander Weatherfield. Maybe this mission wouldn’t be as lost a cause as he’d originally thought.
He straightened in the pilot’s chair of the Platea, a new sense of purpose hardening his resolve. “Well, at least I finally have a direction. Let’s go see what the Commander has to say.”
Sophie peers up from her table, her sharp green eyes taking in the Ambassador's informal dress. The setting is a small cafe' located further around the habitation ring than the busy Quarks. Behind the bar a solitary Ferengi polishes a glass, mumbling something vague about Tulaberries. A few Barjorians debate the decore at a nearby table and a lone off duty Starfleet Security Officer stairs moodily into some form of soup.
'Ambassador.' Her greeting is neat and clipped, her omnipresent pad being placed delicately on the cheap metal table. 'I am pleased you could find the time to see me here on such short notice.' She wears her Civilian colours poorly, sharp crisp white standing out oddly in the dim establishment, the single red stripe running through her robe adding a darker touch to her persona. A phaser is clipped to her waist, are those not barred from this segment of the station? Odd no-one has removed it yet.
'I shall delay a few more moments. I believe Captain Tanis is... On his way. Chance may be a curious thing but I am hoping he will find the time to arrive as swiftly as you have. Regardless, I have the Data. My Vulcan colleague assures me that all the probabilities are in order.'
Ungloved fingers tap lightly upon the table, her stiff gaze never wavering from the other. 'But first, might I inquire what you intend to do with my findings?'
'Ambassador.' Her greeting is neat and clipped, her omnipresent pad being placed delicately on the cheap metal table. 'I am pleased you could find the time to see me here on such short notice.' She wears her Civilian colours poorly, sharp crisp white standing out oddly in the dim establishment, the single red stripe running through her robe adding a darker touch to her persona. A phaser is clipped to her waist, are those not barred from this segment of the station? Odd no-one has removed it yet.
'I shall delay a few more moments. I believe Captain Tanis is... On his way. Chance may be a curious thing but I am hoping he will find the time to arrive as swiftly as you have. Regardless, I have the Data. My Vulcan colleague assures me that all the probabilities are in order.'
Ungloved fingers tap lightly upon the table, her stiff gaze never wavering from the other. 'But first, might I inquire what you intend to do with my findings?'
A'Printa meets her gaze as a bemused smile forms. "What an interesting and most dangerous question to ask, Lt. Commander. For knowledge is the most dangerous weapon, unstoppable defense, and spark of creativity itself. To freely exchange information without knowledge of it's use is, well, not the smartest thing to do. The fact that you ask the question so calmly... with such intensity... is rather impressive for one so young."
She leans back, pulls out a flask, and casually takes a drink. "Well, if I were on duty, I suppose my answer would be swayed by any orders I received from those in higher authority. If I was on mandatory leave... well that would provide a bit more freedom for my own personal interpretation. Without knowing the scope of your discoveries... it prevents me from giving a more solid answer. So the choice will have to be yours in the end. However, my own opinion of events lends me to believe that there is more going on with this Nausicaan then those in charge believe. Right, or wrong, it's simply how I feel. Whether feelings, instinct, and perhaps experience should be a factor depends entirely on your own personal beliefs."
She leans back, pulls out a flask, and casually takes a drink. "Well, if I were on duty, I suppose my answer would be swayed by any orders I received from those in higher authority. If I was on mandatory leave... well that would provide a bit more freedom for my own personal interpretation. Without knowing the scope of your discoveries... it prevents me from giving a more solid answer. So the choice will have to be yours in the end. However, my own opinion of events lends me to believe that there is more going on with this Nausicaan then those in charge believe. Right, or wrong, it's simply how I feel. Whether feelings, instinct, and perhaps experience should be a factor depends entirely on your own personal beliefs."
'I see.' Almost predictably, her eyebrow raises slightly as she ceases her tapping upon the table. A hand raises and for a moment she toys with one of her bunches ensuring the hair remains fixed in its set, almost childish place. 'A most interesting way of answering the question, I see why you became an Ambassador.'
Her hand drops and draws the Padd slightly towards her, eyes flickering down to take in the screen. 'After you left me wounded upon the outpost, I took the time to linger and study some of our findings with my crew. Since we are still... Lacking in Orders from Commodore Razor, I then took the time to further expand on our findings, run several probability scenarios, cross reference with the local traffic datafiles and perform several spot inspections.'
She taps a tab on the Lcars display and abruptly a small holographic representation of the cluster springs into existence. 'The raiders outpost was far to primitiven judging by its visual appearance, inside layout, compliment and structure, to be fully self sufficent, particularly as a base for such a large strike force. Therefore, I have concluded to remain supplied they have three options open to them.'
Taking a breath, she raises her eyes to A'Printa's her tones level and clipped. 'The first is supply by direct Klingon Convoys, almost immediately discountable. The logistics in creating such convoys and having them appear entirely undetectable by the taskforce or any other Federation presence is certainly not worth the moderate reward in maintaining the base.' A pause. 'The second, forming illicit trade transactions with various mercantile groups in the area is possible, but unlikely. Given the ... Brutish nature of the individual in question, the simplicity of his intellect, two dimentional nature of his character and his willingness to abuse and demene those in his power it is exceptionally unlikely any sizeable group of business persons would make a long standing arrangement with him, given that he might seize their shipping in a moment of boredom.'
'And so...' She taps the Padd again causing the display to zome slightly and a pattern of red dots to scatter themselves across it. 'We come to survival by raiding. That in order to keep the base operational and please his Klingon masters, he must have been living off resources captured from Federation and unaligned convoys. Discounting all those ships that have fallen victim to known Klingon strikeforces, such as Kargas...' Several dots vanish. 'Ships lost through natural causes...' Another pair of dots go. 'And those lost with all hands and cargo...' Further dots take their leave. 'We are left with a specific pattern of lost shipping that corrisponds to roughly the length of time the records suggest the outpost was in operation.'
She takes a slow breath at this point before finishing. 'Using data gathered from these likely attacks, method, location, size and so forth, I have compiled a likely profile for our friend. Extrapolating this profile into the datanet has begun to flag up a series of recent cargo strikes that I believe match his motive. Matching those onto the starchart...'
She taps the padd a final time, providing a new altered perspective of the Galaxy. 'Leaves me with no choice but to conclude he is now based in one of these three likely systems.'
Just like that she finishes, her expressionless gaze evenly meeting the Ambassadors as she awaits for a reply.
(Note - Obviously the accuracy or not of Sophie's findings is entirely up to the storymaster of this particular thread. Perhaps she's found another group of priates, or nothing at all. Or a trap! Invent away!)
Her hand drops and draws the Padd slightly towards her, eyes flickering down to take in the screen. 'After you left me wounded upon the outpost, I took the time to linger and study some of our findings with my crew. Since we are still... Lacking in Orders from Commodore Razor, I then took the time to further expand on our findings, run several probability scenarios, cross reference with the local traffic datafiles and perform several spot inspections.'
She taps a tab on the Lcars display and abruptly a small holographic representation of the cluster springs into existence. 'The raiders outpost was far to primitiven judging by its visual appearance, inside layout, compliment and structure, to be fully self sufficent, particularly as a base for such a large strike force. Therefore, I have concluded to remain supplied they have three options open to them.'
Taking a breath, she raises her eyes to A'Printa's her tones level and clipped. 'The first is supply by direct Klingon Convoys, almost immediately discountable. The logistics in creating such convoys and having them appear entirely undetectable by the taskforce or any other Federation presence is certainly not worth the moderate reward in maintaining the base.' A pause. 'The second, forming illicit trade transactions with various mercantile groups in the area is possible, but unlikely. Given the ... Brutish nature of the individual in question, the simplicity of his intellect, two dimentional nature of his character and his willingness to abuse and demene those in his power it is exceptionally unlikely any sizeable group of business persons would make a long standing arrangement with him, given that he might seize their shipping in a moment of boredom.'
'And so...' She taps the Padd again causing the display to zome slightly and a pattern of red dots to scatter themselves across it. 'We come to survival by raiding. That in order to keep the base operational and please his Klingon masters, he must have been living off resources captured from Federation and unaligned convoys. Discounting all those ships that have fallen victim to known Klingon strikeforces, such as Kargas...' Several dots vanish. 'Ships lost through natural causes...' Another pair of dots go. 'And those lost with all hands and cargo...' Further dots take their leave. 'We are left with a specific pattern of lost shipping that corrisponds to roughly the length of time the records suggest the outpost was in operation.'
She takes a slow breath at this point before finishing. 'Using data gathered from these likely attacks, method, location, size and so forth, I have compiled a likely profile for our friend. Extrapolating this profile into the datanet has begun to flag up a series of recent cargo strikes that I believe match his motive. Matching those onto the starchart...'
She taps the padd a final time, providing a new altered perspective of the Galaxy. 'Leaves me with no choice but to conclude he is now based in one of these three likely systems.'
Just like that she finishes, her expressionless gaze evenly meeting the Ambassadors as she awaits for a reply.
(Note - Obviously the accuracy or not of Sophie's findings is entirely up to the storymaster of this particular thread. Perhaps she's found another group of priates, or nothing at all. Or a trap! Invent away!)
A'Printa listens intently to the report, casually taking another drink from her flask about mid-way through. As Sophie finishes, A'Printa leans forward, elbows on the table, and rests her chin in cupped hands. "Very efficient, Lt. Commander. That is an excellent report and sounds very accurate." She tilts her head to seemingly focus on the padd.
"The next logical course would be to send a strike force to investigate these systems and determine his exact location. Which would leave two problems. First, if you send a single ship, it might go unnoticed. If detected, a single ship would be slaughtered if the Nausicaan has a sizeable force to maintain his stronghold. Second choice, you send in a strike force of multiple ships with enough firepower to deal with it. This would be the best option, however the Task Force doesn't have the manpower at the moment to act without leaving base defenses lacking. Heck, if I was the Nausicaan and we did that, I'd bypass the strike force and wipe out OUR base. In any event, it's a tough choice."
She leans back, sighs, and begins to hum a little song. "Listen, Sophie, to a story
That was written long ago, 'Bout a kingdom on a mountain and the valley-folk below.
On the mountain was a treasure, buried deep beneath the stone, and the valley-people swore they'd have it for their very own.
Go ahead and hate your neighbor, Go ahead and cheat a friend. Do it in the name of Heaven, You can justify it in the end. There won't be any trumpets blowing, Come the judgment day, On the bloody morning after.... One tin soldier rides away..."
A'Printa suddenly stops, her eyes widen, and then she fixes her gaze on Sophie again with a smile. "That's how we need to look at this I think! Oh, it's an old 20th-century Earth song called One Tin Soldier. Very applicable here. You've answered the what, when, and where. The who will answer itself in time. But the why, Lt. Commander. That's what's important.
If our Nausicaan survives by raiding, as you suggest... drawing attention to his operations would be the last thing he'd want. He's the kingdom on the mountain... who just told the valley-people he has the treasure. Why? Why would he sacrifice his operations just to rub our Task Force the wrong way? To draw our attention? Think like a Nausicaan. Think like him and ask yourself, why would you willingly allow your investments, your riches, to be taken?
Do you have information on Klingon transports that have been taken by Starfleet? Possibly in those same areas? Both the official Starfleet reports as well as any intercepted from Klingon chatter?"
A'Printa leans back and laughs to herself. "Go ahead and hate your neighbor, go ahead and cheat your friend..." Then she looks back at Sophie. "On the bloody morning after... One Nausicaan rides away..."
"The next logical course would be to send a strike force to investigate these systems and determine his exact location. Which would leave two problems. First, if you send a single ship, it might go unnoticed. If detected, a single ship would be slaughtered if the Nausicaan has a sizeable force to maintain his stronghold. Second choice, you send in a strike force of multiple ships with enough firepower to deal with it. This would be the best option, however the Task Force doesn't have the manpower at the moment to act without leaving base defenses lacking. Heck, if I was the Nausicaan and we did that, I'd bypass the strike force and wipe out OUR base. In any event, it's a tough choice."
She leans back, sighs, and begins to hum a little song. "Listen, Sophie, to a story
That was written long ago, 'Bout a kingdom on a mountain and the valley-folk below.
On the mountain was a treasure, buried deep beneath the stone, and the valley-people swore they'd have it for their very own.
Go ahead and hate your neighbor, Go ahead and cheat a friend. Do it in the name of Heaven, You can justify it in the end. There won't be any trumpets blowing, Come the judgment day, On the bloody morning after.... One tin soldier rides away..."
A'Printa suddenly stops, her eyes widen, and then she fixes her gaze on Sophie again with a smile. "That's how we need to look at this I think! Oh, it's an old 20th-century Earth song called One Tin Soldier. Very applicable here. You've answered the what, when, and where. The who will answer itself in time. But the why, Lt. Commander. That's what's important.
If our Nausicaan survives by raiding, as you suggest... drawing attention to his operations would be the last thing he'd want. He's the kingdom on the mountain... who just told the valley-people he has the treasure. Why? Why would he sacrifice his operations just to rub our Task Force the wrong way? To draw our attention? Think like a Nausicaan. Think like him and ask yourself, why would you willingly allow your investments, your riches, to be taken?
Do you have information on Klingon transports that have been taken by Starfleet? Possibly in those same areas? Both the official Starfleet reports as well as any intercepted from Klingon chatter?"
A'Printa leans back and laughs to herself. "Go ahead and hate your neighbor, go ahead and cheat your friend..." Then she looks back at Sophie. "On the bloody morning after... One Nausicaan rides away..."
A figure moves away from a Danube-class runabout, stepping up and ducking slightly to fit through the rim of the docking port's hatch.
A short while later, he finds himself amid a crowd of visitors from more species than he's see in one place throughout the majority of his career. Walking along the promenade, he quickly finds himself lost in the shuffle. Attempting to ask for directions only gets him a look ranging from fear, to disgust, to outright hatred as patrons see the implant jutting from his forehead, immediately seeing a symbol of a threat universally recognized. Eventually, a young Cardassian, grown up in the aftermath of devastation on his home world, who understands fear and suffering far better than those who would shy from a simple reminder of what they'd like to forget, points the man in the right direction.
Kell Tanis steps into the infamous Quark's, looking for a familiar face in the crowd. Sidestepping a small fight between two Kressari and a Lissepian, he finds the table he's looking for.
"Sorry I'm late ladies," he says as he slides into a seat, "This place has gotten a whole lot busier since the last time I was here." He pulls out a PADD and tosses it on the table, "I've brought a runabout and as many supplies as I could squeeze aboard. I've also set up a few non-aligned contacts in case we need additional support or equipment. No point in getting our people in too much trouble with us if things go sideways out there. This needs to stay off the books for now. Until we get some official support and sanction, I won't put my people's careers at risk."
Tanis sighs and leans back, "So anyways, logistics out of the way, what have you two dug up on the intel end of our little op?"
A short while later, he finds himself amid a crowd of visitors from more species than he's see in one place throughout the majority of his career. Walking along the promenade, he quickly finds himself lost in the shuffle. Attempting to ask for directions only gets him a look ranging from fear, to disgust, to outright hatred as patrons see the implant jutting from his forehead, immediately seeing a symbol of a threat universally recognized. Eventually, a young Cardassian, grown up in the aftermath of devastation on his home world, who understands fear and suffering far better than those who would shy from a simple reminder of what they'd like to forget, points the man in the right direction.
Kell Tanis steps into the infamous Quark's, looking for a familiar face in the crowd. Sidestepping a small fight between two Kressari and a Lissepian, he finds the table he's looking for.
"Sorry I'm late ladies," he says as he slides into a seat, "This place has gotten a whole lot busier since the last time I was here." He pulls out a PADD and tosses it on the table, "I've brought a runabout and as many supplies as I could squeeze aboard. I've also set up a few non-aligned contacts in case we need additional support or equipment. No point in getting our people in too much trouble with us if things go sideways out there. This needs to stay off the books for now. Until we get some official support and sanction, I won't put my people's careers at risk."
Tanis sighs and leans back, "So anyways, logistics out of the way, what have you two dug up on the intel end of our little op?"
A'Printa pauses, blinks a couple times at Tanis's approach, and chuckles to herself. "You really enjoy throwing caution to the wind... only to hear it scream in terror on the way back down?" She looks up and meets his gaze with an icy glare. "I'm quite glad you've announced your intentions within earshot of some of the most unscrupulous individuals in the sector. It should make things far more..." She bites her lip and scoffs a little. "Interesting."
After a moment's pauses, A'Printa's smile returns. "Well, the Lt. Commander and I have been having the most interesting conversation about planets and tin soldiers. However, it was my current understanding that Weatherfield is currently on duty and was sent here to provide information... under orders. Whether this is accurate or not, well, I was trying to be delicate about it. But I guess I have to go the... " She rolls her eyes and sighs. "...old fashioned method."
A'Printa sips her drink as her gaze shift to Sophie. "If I may be direct, three items of note. First, your comment about 'after leaving you wounded on the station' was incorrect. I told you I'm not a medic and that you should have beamed up for medical attention. I also wasn't in charge of that investigation. You chose to stay behind. Blame yourself or the commander for that... not me. Second, you were incorrect about Ambassadorial status. Ambassadors outrank Starship Captains when it comes to giving orders. In some cases, they can even outrank Admirals, depending on the situation. Granted it's kinda murky, but if you desire clarity... I attained the 'official' rank of Captain before I was promoted to an Ambassador. Third and last..."
A'Printa pauses, swirls her drink a bit, before looking back at Sophie with an eerie calmness. "Are you here in an official capacity or off duty, like the rest of us? While I appreciate the information you've provide... which is pretty impressive... whether or not I share with you depends on your answer. Because what I have to say can never leave this table."
After a moment's pauses, A'Printa's smile returns. "Well, the Lt. Commander and I have been having the most interesting conversation about planets and tin soldiers. However, it was my current understanding that Weatherfield is currently on duty and was sent here to provide information... under orders. Whether this is accurate or not, well, I was trying to be delicate about it. But I guess I have to go the... " She rolls her eyes and sighs. "...old fashioned method."
A'Printa sips her drink as her gaze shift to Sophie. "If I may be direct, three items of note. First, your comment about 'after leaving you wounded on the station' was incorrect. I told you I'm not a medic and that you should have beamed up for medical attention. I also wasn't in charge of that investigation. You chose to stay behind. Blame yourself or the commander for that... not me. Second, you were incorrect about Ambassadorial status. Ambassadors outrank Starship Captains when it comes to giving orders. In some cases, they can even outrank Admirals, depending on the situation. Granted it's kinda murky, but if you desire clarity... I attained the 'official' rank of Captain before I was promoted to an Ambassador. Third and last..."
A'Printa pauses, swirls her drink a bit, before looking back at Sophie with an eerie calmness. "Are you here in an official capacity or off duty, like the rest of us? While I appreciate the information you've provide... which is pretty impressive... whether or not I share with you depends on your answer. Because what I have to say can never leave this table."
Tanis raises a hand to forestall Weatherfield's response, "Captain, I think you're right about remaining cautious here. I've tried to steer clear of any specifics that may complicate things thus far, but it looks like the two of you are running out of wiggle room in that regard. Perhaps a change of scenery would be appropriate for the rest of this conversation. We ARE expected to be on vacation after all, aren't we?"
A'Printa shifts her eyes towards Tanis's raised hand and pauses. Then her eyes widen in amazement. "Wow. Did you know you have a really long life line?" She reaches over and runs her finger down the palm of his hand. "Really impressive. By the looks of it, I should hang around you more often so some of that longevity will rub off! No?" Then she leans back and sighs. "You're right. That's why I really hate the direct approach. It can really come off too harsh. My apologies Lt. Commander. I don't mean to frighten or accuse you of anything. Just stating a few facts."
A'Printa stands up, corks her flask, and stretches. "Come on Captain Tanis, there's a little place down on Bajor that provides a most spectacular view of the countryside. You said you had a ride available? Perfect. You can drive and I'll give directions... provided you don't mind the... scenic tour."
She turns away, but then pauses to give Sophie a somewhat motherly gaze over her shoulder. "Whatever your role in all this Sophie, take it from me, you're too young to play this game. Go back to your ship. Take command. Learn how to be a good Captain. You delivered your information. Your role is done. We'll see you again after our vacation is over."
A'Printa stands up, corks her flask, and stretches. "Come on Captain Tanis, there's a little place down on Bajor that provides a most spectacular view of the countryside. You said you had a ride available? Perfect. You can drive and I'll give directions... provided you don't mind the... scenic tour."
She turns away, but then pauses to give Sophie a somewhat motherly gaze over her shoulder. "Whatever your role in all this Sophie, take it from me, you're too young to play this game. Go back to your ship. Take command. Learn how to be a good Captain. You delivered your information. Your role is done. We'll see you again after our vacation is over."
Lyianna clamly raises her eyebrow, her padd falling to rest on the table as she watches the pair rise. 'Charming.' She murmurs, softly enough for it only to be faintly hearable. 'As it happens I was here on... Unofficial business. If you paid more attention you might recall my ship is presently stranded in Stardock, and not due for recovery for some time. But depart, if you wish.' Her finger extends and with a tap, shuts down the Padd. 'You will get significantly less far alone than you will do with my assistance. You may consider that a threat, if you wish to take it as such. Ambassador' She places deliberate stress on the final word, before she rises to her fleet, inclining her head to Captain Tanis as she does so. 'It was a pleasure to see you again, Captain. If Briefly. When you've finished your sight seeing tour, I'll be sure to be in touch.'
A'Printa shakes her head, sighs, and mutters softly. "If you want 'charming', go find a prince." She shrugs. "Fine. It's Tanis' shuttle. If he lets you on, that's his call. Just remember one thing. My goal at the moment is to get those people back. Starfleet has chosen not to help. When we leave this table, Starfleet stays here. If anything happens, Starfleet won't shed any tears, nor waste any resources on us. This isn't for the feint of heart. I know who we're going up against. They're worse than the Syndicate, which is saying quite a bit. Anyway, if you still want to come... it's Tanis' call. Personally, I don't enjoy watching young officers get themselves killed. Trust me, been there, done that, wasn't a pleasant experience. Had to find a new host and everything after that. Oh well... I'll give you two a few moments alone. I'll see you at the shuttle."
Kell Tanis shakes his head and sighs as he stands, watching A'Printa depart, "There's more running through that woman's head than I'll ever understand." He glaces at Lieutenant Commander Weatherfield, "Commander, this is unsanctioned and goes against our standing orders. I can not and will not order you to participate and I can not guarantee that the burdon of responsibility will fall solely on our shoulders should this go sideways simply because we are senior officers." Tanis straightens and looks back down, "That said, you were there from the beginning and know what we're up against and what...WHO...we're fighting for. We can use all the help we can get. Welcome aboard, the Platea is this way." Tanis turns for the exit, motioning Sophie to follow.
Sophie's eyebrow raises as it often has a habit of doing, the woman's heels clicking together automatically, as prim and proper in her off duty robes than as in her uniform. 'Thank you, Captain.' She sweeps a gaze around the bar, committing to memory anyone who appears to be looking their way for future reference. 'I appreciate you taking me into your confidence. I hope it is a decision neither of us regrets.' Moving beside him, she casts a lingering glance at the back of the retreating Ambassador, a frown showing upon her face before she wipes it away. 'Once more into the breach, no?'
With that, she departs the bar in her smooth clipped strides.
/Endthread!
With that, she departs the bar in her smooth clipped strides.
/Endthread!