The reports trickled across the feeds in fits and starts. Such was the nature of keeping a finger on the pulse of a beast so wild as war. War was a dumb, thrashing animal that could scarcely tell the difference between a predators talons around its throat and the feel of its own beak preening its tail. War was no more aware of its nature than any other thing that bit and bled and yowled across the vast expanse of stars.
So it was that making sense of the chaos was left to keener minds, and within the ranks of the Romulan Star Empire that meant the Tal Shiar.
A fresh batch of reports began to trickle in from the fronts. Casualty reports from Tri’Vokil. News of the collapsing Republic defenses in orbit of Beta Reticuli. An update on disinformation efforts by Major Lurit-
“Feanna.” She spat the word to clear the bitter taste from her mouth, loud enough to startle her attendant. The corporal shot up in his seat and cast his wary gaze upon her.
“…Aendeh?” His voice, when it came, was a timid plea.
“Lurit Tr’Ieithoedd.” What her attendant lacked in certainty she more than made up for, her words flowing like biting cold water. “If not for his incompetence we might have had a few more weeks to press the Republic free of Federation interference.”
Her corporal - Arvek, was it? - cautiously cleared his throat. “But surely the Federation… they would not simply sit idly by and let their pets be conquered.”
Her lips curled even as that bitter taste returned, her golden eyes fixed on the corporal sitting on the opposite side of the console. “Sitting idly by is what the Federation does best. They prize non-interference as some high-minded virtue, as if inaction in the face of another’s suffering makes martyrs of them both. No, sitting idly is exactly what they would have done until they could find a way to twist their moral compass in the direction war, as they ever do. If not for that fool Lurit…”
She could picture him in her mind, that self-assured sneer beneath those dark, dull eyes of his. More than anything else he reminded her of a dhael grazing in a field growing fat and useless, heedless to the butchers blade that would one day spell his end.
“…Aendeh Mandukar?”
“Hm?”
The corporal pulled her from her thoughts with a gesture to the chronometer at the edge of her console. “It’s nearly time for your check-in with High Command.”
“So it is. That will be all then, Arvek.”
The corporal rose from his station, turned to leave, but paused. “It’s, ah… My name is Avren, Aendeh.”
“Is it indeed?” She met his gaze and held, and watched as he wilted. “Dismissed, Lhaell Avren.” The corporal shuffled his way to the exit, hurriedly slipping out into the corridor.
And D’Kera was left with only the ticking scroll of incoming reports.