A Thin Veneer section 3 (last-chapters)

[Voltron64]

Originally Posted by tsukino_kage

More like the Vorlons. The Shadows aren't that particular about the mixing of races. They just believed they should kill each other and let the winner be crowned king. The Vorlons are the ones into the "purity" crap.

Hmm... Khali is an Indian name right? Is he of Hindu origin?

My guess is Pakistani judging by his given name of Amir, which is Arabic in background.

[kclcmdr]

Originally Posted by ReddyRedWolf

Makes me wish for a Tellarite politician to verbally chew Khali.

At least Guinan took him down three or four notches beforehand...

http://forum.spacebattles.com/showpo...postcount=1374

“I am sure that the learned Doctor Khali will enlighten us as to the definition of General Order 24.”

Khali’s face darkened as he recognized the mockery. It didn’t help that Martus barked a laugh at his mother’s rejoinder. “Your precious Federation’s admiralty has ordered the total destruction of the Minbari homeworld. That was in reaction to the Minbari audacity to resist the might of Starfleet and to defy the dreams of galactic order and progress. That is certainly a lesson that the member worlds and the independent nations will remember in their dealings with the Federation government.”

Guinan sighed. “You’re thinking of control. Control is an illusion, a very effective illusion, but an illusion nonetheless. The Federation is a result of the realization that its peoples could cooperate peacefully and equally while they spread among the stars like…like dandelion seeds blown on the winds, taking roots on distant planets.” She shook her head. “It is tragically wrong to believe that the advancement of any species must proceed at the pace of its slowest members. If we were to believe that in order to make sure that societies do not fly apart, the dynamism so vital to civilization would be lost.” A haunted look came into her eyes. “Or destroyed as my world was.”

In spite of himself, Khali was curious. He had heard rumors. “What happened to your homeworld?”

The El-Aurian turned her head away as sorrow and anger twisted her face. “A soulless force that believes in order via total control swarmed my home system and destroyed my people. Most of my husbands and children were killed. My family was just one of many pushed to the brink of extinction.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Still, I have to be thankful for those who survived. My parents, my son Martus, my sister Delcara, and a few others scattered across the galaxy.”

A chill traveled down Khali’s spine. It was as if he was listening to the story of his own Earth had the Federation not rescued it from the Minbari. “You could have gotten help, like we did.”

She shook her head. “No. Never. If we did, anyone who helped, including the Federation, would have been destroyed as well. My planet has been carved up and is nothing more than an uninhabited world with craters where cities and towns once stood, with only the global transportation routes to show that a civilization once thrived on El-Auria. My people are a race of listeners and, by listening to the nature of our destroyers, we know we can never bring other civilizations to experience the same destruction.”

“But…but that makes my theories all the more important! If we are to survive against such a terrible enemy, we must save the civilizations in this region and my region! Help them control themselves. Help convince the Federation to divert itself away from the path where it will shatter into smaller federations. If that happens, it won’t be able to marshal all of its resources and might for the fight to come!”

Guinan scowled. “I refuse to be party to that. If survival is all that matters, then what’s the point of living? Any organization interested in control will not be interested in the universe. How can an organization have control if progress and innovation can take their subjects beyond its influence? The dynamism that you are so blind to is vital to our prosperity, our advancement and ultimately…our survival.” She looked straight into Khali’s eyes. “Still, I fear that the Minbari War will end up bringing the Federation into contact with my world’s destroyers before its time. I sincerely hope that the Federation will face the challenge with success. That’s why I and my surviving colleagues chose to come here and appeal for asylum.” Guinan laid a hand on her son’s arm. “That’s why we didn’t choose to go to the Earth Alliance for refuge.” With that, she turned away from Khali, taking Martus with her into the museum crowds.

Khali could only fume at the receding robed woman with dreadlocks cascading from under her turban.

“Mother,” said Martus in wonder. “You’re getting better.”

Guinan’s smile still held her sadness. “If we are to wait thirty-nine years, we must make the most of that time.” Inside, she still desired the Nexus and she felt she could never forgive the Borg for their sins. Still, if Captain Picard was any indication in her memory, there’s hope for her future. And there’s much to do if she were to help Dr. Khali.

Now she had a mission as a Listener.

And nice snippet... http://forums.spacebattles.com/showp...&postcount=526

[Rastamon]

Originally Posted by Voltron64

My guess is Pakistani judging by his given name of Amir, which is Arabic in background.

I would say that he's both. His full name is Amir Rajiv Khali. But by his time, ethnic/national background would be mostly meaningless. His ancestors may be from the Indian subcontinent but he lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts because of Harvard University.

[Tweeky]

Originally Posted by norjc

Here is the section that I believe EA authorities would find treasonous:

"In fact, the Federation’s help escalated the present war to a point beyond anything in that alternate universe. That point resulted in the prolonging of the war and in the Minbari nuclear bombing of my people’s colonies such as Beta 9. From these facts and more besides, we must come to the inescapable conclusion that the guilt of the slaughter of innocents must be laid at the doorstep of the Federation Starfleet.”

I could see President Levy finding that his statement that Starfleet, a valuable ally of the Earth Alliance, is guilty of the slaughter of the people on EA colonies after the attempt by the Minbari to destroy Earth itself as treason. At best, she would see his statement as provocative and as a diplomatic disaster, particularly after the Minbari's destruction of the Regulus colony. Is he truly saying that the Federation had no right to protect itself from Minbari aggression?! That, in itself, would be enough to have the Federation expel him from its territory.

In either event, Levy would have very little choice here. She, at the very least, would have to recall him in disgrace and apologize to the Federation Council for his statements, all the while claiming in no way do his statements reflect the stance of the Earth Alliance government. At worst, she might have Psi-Corp . . . remove the problem in a way that isn't traceable.

Nice discussion!

Aside from proving himself to be a know-it-all, willfully ignorant and bigoted intellectual snob, I don't think that Dr. Khali is guilty of treason, he is however IMO (I don't have a law degree though) guilty of sedition.

[Tweeky]

I wonder what the Vorlons would think of the Borg? Wit their idea of advancing the quality of life of sentients throughout the galaxy and eliminating all the anarchy and other ills caused by individualism as they see it; in other words order through total control?

[Rastamon]

Too much order, I would think.

There's no chance of free will in the Borg Collective. There's also the fact that the Borg reproduce by attacking and assimilating others. In other words, war. And order coming out of chaos.

Actually, I think "collective" is the wrong word for the Borg. All Borg drones are enslaved to the will of the Borg Queen. Except for the Queen, all has individuality, personality and independent thoughts erased. The worst kind of slavery. If it was a true collective, all the drones would share their thoughts and try to conform to each other, and not be total slaves to the Queen.

The Vorlons may have a kind of collective, but it wasn't like the collective of ants or bees. Each Vorlon is an independent individual though his/her mind could touch other minds in a gestalt. Kinda like the Taelons and their Commonality.

Any Borg-Vorlon relationship would have to depend on the Queen. The Queen can meet the Vorlons but the Vorlons can't meet the Queen (the drones are her eyes, ears and mouths) unless they either go to Unimatrix 01 or the Queen personally goes to meet a Vorlon.

[HawaiianOnline]

It appears that the Vorlon and Shadow debate hinges on the choice made by the younger races. That is a choice between order and chaos. As Rasta pointed out, the Borg offer no choice. Who you are and what you want are irrelevant. Your technological and biological distinctiveness will be added to our own whether you like it or not. I would submit that the drones not only serve the purpose of acting as remote repair waldoes and foot soldiers, they also serve as a distributed computing and archiving network in combination with the various assimilated technologies. When a problem comes up, the Queen can probably assign thousands or even millions of drones to come up with a solution. SETI @ home bio-computing version...

[Valiran]

Originally Posted by Rastamon

Too much order, I would think.

There's no chance of free will in the Borg Collective. There's also the fact that the Borg reproduce by attacking and assimilating others. In other words, war. And order coming out of chaos.

Actually, I think "collective" is the wrong word for the Borg. All Borg drones are enslaved to the will of the Borg Queen. Except for the Queen, all has individuality, personality and independent thoughts erased. The worst kind of slavery. If it was a true collective, all the drones would share their thoughts and try to conform to each other, and not be total slaves to the Queen.

The Vorlons may have a kind of collective, but it wasn't like the collective of ants or bees. Each Vorlon is an independent individual though his/her mind could touch other minds in a gestalt. Kinda like the Taelons and their Commonality.

Any Borg-Vorlon relationship would have to depend on the Queen. The Queen can meet the Vorlons but the Vorlons can't meet the Queen (the drones are her eyes, ears and mouths) unless they either go to Unimatrix 01 or the Queen personally goes to meet a Vorlon.

What the Vorlons have sounds a whole lot like the Protoss Khala.

[ntwayneK]

Vorlons "like" the Borg? Uh, I think that when the Borg tell the Vorlons "You will be assimilated. You will adapt to service us." that the Vorlons might be a little bit insulted by the young pebbles.

[Voltron64]

Waiting eagerly for the full thing, Skeets!

[tsukino_kage]

Vorlons will not like the Borg for the same reason most people will not like to meet themselves on the street. They will see their flaws.

[Skeet]

Chapter Thirteen

“It is better to discuss things, to argue and engage in polemics than make perfidious plans of mutual destruction.” –Mikhail Gorbachev, last Premier of the Soviet Union.

Chez Sandríne
Marseille, France, Earth
United Federation of Planets

“Firewine!”

“You sure you want that, Mr. Mudd?” The female bartender quirked an eyebrow at the flamboyant-seeming man who was rotund, bald, grey-haired and mustachioed. “It’s nothing like Andorian ale, you know.”

Harry Mudd said, “Just call me Harry. I know, Madame…what’s your first name?”

The woman managed to seem to look down her nose at Harry without doing it. This Harry Mudd looked to be in his 70’s but he sure didn’t act his age.
“Just Sandríne will do. It’s my family’s name and it’s on the sign outside. It’s been there since the 18th century. Use it.”

“Very well…Madame Sandríne. If I’m going to appreciate our new alliance with the Klingon Empire, I must know their drinks. Give it here.”

Sandríne shrugged and poured out the Klingon liquor into a glass and set it before her customer. “I got a barrel of it from a friend at Deep Space Station K-7.” As Mudd drank the freshly poured firewine, the female bartender used a hand to make sure that her complex blonde coiffure was still in place and asked, “So you’re going there? The Klingon Empire? At your age?”

The man gasped and half-coughed on the firewine. “Whew! Like drinking Andorian ice-bores!” He shook his head to clear it. “Stronger than whiskey! Anyway, yes. At my age. I will keep chugging along until I keel over. I got nothin’ else.” Harry shrugged. “Anyway, I got some jewelry and Andorian silk that some Klingons might like to buy. This alliance is good for business. New trade routes to explore and open.” He took another drink and set to gasping on it. “I think I’ll buy this in bulk while I’m in Klingon space. Might do well in keeping Andorians warm during the winter on Andoria. Tastes like it can melt ice.”

The aging fat man peered at Sandríne closely. “Since you’re already trying to benefit from the new trade relations with the Klingon Empire, I might have something you’d like.” Harry Mudd took a heavy glass bottle filled with a dark brown liquid from a satchel.

The French woman looked down at the bottle with suspicious curiosity. “What’s this?”

Mudd gestured expansively, saying, “It’s the wave of the future, Sandríne! Mark my words, Madame, or my name isn’t Harcourt Fenton Mudd! Raktajino. Klingon coffee.”

“Coffee. I have plenty of coffee here, Harry. This is France!”

“No, no, it’s not just any coffee. It’s Raktajino, Madame! Stronger than coffee, sweeter than coffee and has a kick to it. Here, taste it.”

Mudd poured some into a small cup for the owner of Chez Sandríne to taste. Rubbing her lips with her tongue, she said, “Mmmm. You’re right. The caffeine’s strong. Tastes almost like Kailua but with chocolate and spices added. A little less alcohol than Kailua.”

Mudd grinned widely. “It’d be a hit with your patrons! It’s good for breakfast, good with sweets like icoberry tart. Best served steamed or iced.” He gave a wink as he added, “I hear that Talarians could easily get drunk on Raktajino.”

Sandríne thought about it for a while, tapping a manicured finger on her lips. “All right. Bring me a crate. We’ll see if it’s a hit.”

“Oh, it will, Madame! I’ll remember to buy lots of it in the Klingon Empire. You won’t regret it. I might come back here in time for the war with the Minbari to be over. My import-export company could extend operations to the Crux Region and you could benefit from the trade I’ll get!” Harry gazed into space as he fantasized. “Raktajino bottles all over the Federation and beyond, on the label, ‘Imported by Harcourt Mudd’.” He shook himself out of his reverie. “Maybe I could get you a tribble as a gift while I’m in Klingon space?”

Sandríne wrinkled her nose in distaste. “A tribble? My friend at K-7 had some trouble with tribbles before. No thanks.”

Mudd shrugged. “They will become extinct soon. Might be mighty valuable because of that.” He drained the remains of the firewine in his glass and gasped at it.

The proprietress leaned forward on her elbows on the bar. “Really?”

Mudd’s eyebrows rose. “Haven’t you heard? The Klingons, they’re hunting down tribbles everywhere. Last time I was in Klingon space, I heard that pretty soon, they’ll be sending a fleet to Iota Geminorum IV to turn that planet into a ball of cinder. If that’s true, tribbles will be gone for good.”

Sandríne huffed. “Good riddance, if the stories of troubles with tribbles are any indication.”

The male merchant shrugged. “Your loss. Mighty cute, I hear, though.” He caught sight of a pretty bald Bolian woman chatting with a purple-haired Boslic woman. He clapped his hands and rubbed them gleefully. “I’m going to see if my luck holds tonight.”

Old men. So that ancient axiom was true about them. Sandríne rolled her eyes and chuckled as she cleaned up the bar table.



***


In a corner of the small restaurant bar annex, a Centauri dressed in a hooded cloak observed all this, nursing a glass of iced tea. The cloak’s hood hid the Centauri’s fanned hair, making him seem to be a member of one of the many humanoid races in the Federation to the restaurant bar patrons including the two cadets playing pool. Unseen by Sandríne and her patrons, Turo Condari’s lips curled in a sneer. If he had any doubt about the Federation’s decadence, it was gone. The Centauri Republic was very decadent and had slavery but at least the Centauri did not mingle with alien races sexually. Oh, there were a few who did so, like that Narn diplomat, G’Kar, whose fascination for humanoid alien women was already infamous and was no doubt indulging himself in the pleasures offered by such Paris establishments as the Moulin Rouge at this moment. However, the Federation peoples, on the whole, indulged in such unnatural practices without a thought about the potential consequences.

The Minbari were wise to apply the Sum Nee’Verkaff, the Alien Prohibition, when the ancient Minbari began to contact other worlds. It kept the Minbari people purely Minbari.

Not only that, but the Federation was unbelievably complacent and arrogant despite the victory at Regulus and the punishment of the Earth Alliance worlds by the Warrior Caste. In spite of the fact that the Shadows had stained the peoples and worlds of the Federation, the Federation never had to go through the fire and darkness of total war, as the Minbari had in Valen’s War and are experiencing in this present war with the Human nations and their allies. Turo Condari, whose actual name was Nur of the Minbari clan Blood Knives, remembered the stories of Markar’Arabar, how those who would later become disciples of Valen had led the fleets into battle against the Shadows at Ikarra Seven, how the Shadows had torn apart the pride of the Minbari space fleets, less than two hundred years old, how fifteen thousand died there and only three hundred survived.

Oh, the Federation had its birth pangs in the Earth-Romulan War but how quickly and completely its peoples had forgotten the lessons of total war! Here, in this restaurant bar in Marseille, France, Nur could see the same evidence he saw in Paris and in the voyage through the superhighway to Earth, evidence that the Federation peoples had no worries at all beyond satisfying the latest whim they had. Here was a culture of instant gratification, with no thought toward self-discipline or toward the issue of spiritual and racial purity or the rights and wrongs of their positions. How incredibly self-assured they were of their place in the universe! They, who had never been blessed with receiving emissaries from the universe in the form of the Vorlons or any other such higher beings!

While Nur didn’t agree with all of Dr. Khali’s theories and proposals, he agreed that the Federation needed saving from itself. No one could walk in the Darkness for so long that he couldn’t come back (or return) into the Light. However, as long as the Federation remains under control of a secret cabal of puppet masters or its current government intent upon darkening the stars themselves, that couldn’t be. For nations to walk in the Light, the conspiracy of Shadows must be excised like the cancer it was.

Khali was right about another thing: The Federation was on the verge of destroying itself. Not for the reasons that that self-centered Human garbage imagined. It pained Nur to admit it but the Federation was defeating the Minbari. As soon as the light of Minbar is snuffed out, the Federation will have handed victory to the Shadows on a silver platter. Everyone knew that if the Shadows had complete victory and the Vorlons are driven away, all who had the potential to threaten these Lords of Chaos would face extinction. Much as he hated to admit it, the Federation had that potential so they would be on top of the list to be exterminated in the event of a complete Shadow victory.

As he watched the patrons go about their own business, he pitied them. Harry Mudd laughing and flirting with the two alien harlots, one of whom looked disturbingly similar to a Minbari except for the purple hair and the lack of a head bone, the proprietress selling liquids that would inspire homicidal insanity in Minbari; the two Starfleet cadets ribbing each other over their play at the pool table without a care in the universe. All of them clueless about the influence of Shadow-spawn and their dark masters in their midst. Nur sipped his iced tea and mentally shook his head at the Federation. They knew not what they were doing for they did not understand the peril to their souls. It would have been interesting if he could have studied their culture more, but time hadn't been on his side. The Centauri Ambassador had placed too much work on him and now it was too late. He needed to focus on his mission.


***


The door into the restaurant opened, admitting a hooded Vulcan man dressed in austere brown-gold robes. The Vulcan looked around, ordered a glass of iced tea from Sandríne and came to Nur’s table.

“Turo Condari?”

Nur tensed. Vulcans were the puppet-masters of the Federation despite their protestations to the contrary and he had to be careful around them. “Yes. Why are we meeting here? We could have met at either the Café des Artistes or the Club Ingénue or somewhere like that in Paris.”

The Vulcan, uncharacteristically, smiled as he took a seat at Nur’s table. “I could be recognized in Paris. Here, no one personally knows me. You’re an agent, aren’t you?”

Nur tensed even more. Underneath the table, he slowly and discretely reached into the Centauri cloak and gripped a Dunshal air pin. How did this Vulcan know? Was he a telepath? He had known that he’d run the risk of telepaths finding out his true identity by looking into his mind by chance.
The Vulcan chuckled and sipped the iced tea, his balding pate visible under the hood. As far as Nur knew, Vulcans did not chuckle, nor did they smile. “Do not worry. We will not expose you.”

‘We’? Nur frowned. That one word implied that more than this unusual Vulcan individual knew that his identity as Turo Condari was a cover. He had come to Marseille ostensibly to sample the various Earth cultures but had actually been contacted about a secret rendezvous. He slowly took the Dunshal air pin out of his cloak and aimed it at the Vulcan under the table. The poison darts were lethal and instantaneous simulating a heart attack. It was the weapon of choice when a more tradition weapon was unavailable.
Oblivious to the weapon, the Vulcan continued to speak. “We had expected agents from the Crux Region’s powers to come with the diplomats through the Cortour-Terra Anomaly. I am pleased to meet one from Centauri Intelligence.” The Vulcan inclined his balding head in respect.

Nur relaxed his grip on the Dunshal trigger. Only a bit. So they did not know his true identity yet. “Why are you…interested in me?”

“You do not drink alcohol. We know that this is unusual among Centauri. That caused us to investigate you. We soon realized that you may be an agent who needs to concentrate on his job. We suspect that you have plans to infiltrate the Federation government and Starfleet. Of course. What major power would not try to ferret out the secrets of another major power, especially one like the Federation? We have agents in all levels. We have observed you making visual studies of the first floor of the Palais de la Concorde.”

Nur tensed again. Had he been so obvious? He had been so careful with his excuses of being a tourist and of merely preparing Londo Mollari for the upcoming special session of the Federation Council.

“And…?”

The Vulcan leaned conspiratorially close to Nur. “Mr. Condari, we would like to offer assistance. A…preliminary alliance between the agencies of our two empires, shall we say.”

“What type of assistance, Mr.…?”

“Nanclus. Ambassador Nanclus.”

Nur stared for a while. An ambassador. Like that creature Sarek back at Becerra Alpha. He must be one of the puppet-masters, then. Nur felt sorely tempted to kill the damned Vulcan. But wait. Was Nanclus was a sign that cracks were appearing in the secret cabal that ruled through their puppets in the Federation Council? Did he represent a faction? Perhaps even…an anti-Shadow faction?

The agent had heard that Vulcans were a logical race. Perhaps some of them saw the logic of coming out of the Darkness into the Light and several of them are working to bring about that salvation. The Darkness thrived on chaos, on disunity. Since that was the Federation’s nature, Nur could only take advantage of the unexpected boon it offered tonight.
Ambassador Nanclus took a green solid square out of his robes and slid it across the table to Nur. “In this data-tape, you’ll find detailed plans for the Palais, information about the Palais security systems.”

Nur slid the tape back to Nanclus. “I don’t need your help.”

Nanclus slid it to Nur again. “We are not expecting compensation of any kind. Consider this a gift from the Tal Shiar. Of course, there’s nothing in the tape that could be traced back to us. We made sure of it.” The ambassador drank some more of the iced tea. “It is my hope that the Romulan Star Empire will have closer relations with the Great Centauri Republic in the near future. Our best analysts predict that espionage will…flourish in the near future after the war with the Minbari. Alliances of various types will be…important.”

Nur looked down at the data-tape to prevent Nanclus from seeing the surprise in his eyes. So this Nanclus was a Romulan, not a Vulcan. He vaguely recalled the introductions of the Crux Region diplomats to the alien ambassadors at a Palais state dinner in Paris. Now he remembered that Romulans looked indistinguishable from Vulcans. That may be why this ambassador was dressed like a Vulcan. It was to avoid undue attention. Vulcans were commonplace but Romulans…? He idly and briefly wondered if there were physical differences between Vulcans and Romulans like the differences between Humans and Centauri. Again, the lack of opportunity to learn had placed him at a disadvantage in hostile territory.

He was mistaken in assuming Nanclus to be a Vulcan. What other assumptions were mistaken? If only he had had more time to study his adversaries, perhaps he wouldn’t have been caught so easily. It was always the small mistakes that ruined an undercover mission. It was a stark reminder of the time constraints he was under.

Ambassador Nanclus’ smile appeared and vanished before he nodded solemnly and stood up. “Please convey my regards to Ambassador Mollari and to your intelligence minister, Lord Durano. Jolan tru, Turo Condari.”

Wordlessly, Nur nodded and watched Nanclus leave Chez Sandríne. He hid the data-tape in his cloak.

Sometimes, one must use the techniques of the Darkness to fight the Darkness. One day, the Shadows will open their eyes to the Light of Order and regret being Lords of Chaos.

One day….

But not today.

The Light must advance step by step. Even the Minbari had to deal with Markar’Arabar and the later loss of their great starbase before being saved by Valen. Nur needed to deal with the Federation first.

He drank the rest of the iced tea and stood up, tossing a quarter ducat coin onto the table. Going through the door outside, he climbed the few steps up to the street level and looked around the evening vista of Marseille’s harbor quay. There was no one following him, no one even interested in him. Perhaps the universe was looking up for Turo Condari, AKA Nur of the Blood Knives of Minbar.

Nur pulled his hood and cloak close against the cool sea breeze and turned to go to one of the city’s terminals. Minbari loved the chilled weather. Centauri didn’t and for now he was Minbari.

The small things.

The small things…




Telepath Annual Retreat Conference
San Diego California, Federation Earth

“Mom, why is Ms. Mehta so angry?” asked Miriam.

Miranda sighed. “She came here hoping that we were suffering from the same types of difficulties and insecurities that they’ve suffered on their Earth,” she explained. “They’re much more militant than we are and their motives aren’t as straightforward as she wanted us to believe.”

“She is kind of uptight,” the thirteen year-old said.

Her mother smiled. She hadn’t heard that phrase in a long while. “Yes she is. Things are not going as well as she expected.”

Indeed, she had been expecting an isolated group of telepathic misfits waiting for a guide to lead them from darkness into the light. But instead she had run head first into something she hadn’t really considered and wasn’t prepared to handle.

Dr. Androv Povich was speaking now, interrupting her train of thought. “You organization was based on solid premises and I can understand why telepaths on your world had to band together. However, all the information I’ve seen suggests that it’s turning into something ugly and in some cases despicable. Why would I want to possibly join such an organization?”
“What you’ve heard is rumor and innuendo spread by people who either don’t understand us or fear us,” Arati countered.


“Do you force children who have telepathic abilities away from their parents who don’t?”

“That act is mandate by Earth Alliance law for the safety of both the children and the parents.”

“What about the breeding programs instituted by Psi-Corps to produce children with higher levels of telepathy-related abilities and what happens to those children who don’t have any telepathy at all?”

“The suggestion that we have a breeding program is disrespectful at the least and outrageous at worst.”

“But according to the escaped ‘blips’ as you call them, this is in fact the case,” Povich countered.

“They are malcontents coming here to spread lies about Psi-Corps and everything thing we represent. In fact…”

“Sorry to interrupt, Ms Mehta, but we failed to get your opinion of the multi-species children and how they would fit into the Psi-Corps hierarchy if we were to join. Every image we’ve seen in the brochures make your people look like a cross between a paramilitary organization and the old style Salvation Army.”

“I would be mad if they were speaking to me like that and I’m a kid,” Miriam huffed. “Why are they talking to her like that?” It’s not her fault Psi-Corps makes them wear gloves. I rather like the idea that I could be in a club for telepaths. It would be nice.”

“There’s nothing wrong being in a club with people like your,” her mother admonished. “In fact, it could be a good experience. You’d make new friends, and see new things. However, there’s a difference between a club and what PsiCorps is doing.”

“I don’t understand?”

“This is how I would describe Psi-Corps, my sweet. It isn’t a sorority, or Fraternity or some type of exclusive club. The closest approximation I have to describe it is that is a gang. Their organization doesn’t ask that you be a part of them, you’re forced into their little clique whether you want it or not. You are separated from your family, forced to wear clothing that separates you from everyone that’s not part of your little gang. You’re told what to do and they have laws to force to do what they want. They want control of not only what you do but who you can interact with.”

“Really?” she asked not liking that definition of Psi-Corps at all.

“Yes, really,” her mother responded softly blocking her thoughts as much as she could. “Arati and her entourage came here to recruit the telepaths on our Earth believing that we were just as isolated and alone as they believe themselves to be. But they’re wrong and I think Arati is just beginning to realize that she has made a tactical error.”

“But why is her coming here a mistake?”

“Because, the Psi-Corps didn’t understand that we telepaths here are happy and value our freedom. They also didn’t take into consideration that we would find out details they didn’t want us to know when that we’d talk to the escaped telepaths on Archanis IV.

We can do what we want, when we want, be what we want just like anyone else and we don’t have to wear gloves to show that we’re different. And,” she added, “your friends like the Betazoids and others who share your Human heritage wouldn’t be welcomed.”

“But why not?” she asked again.

“I think I’ll let you reason it out, dear,” her mother told her. “Think about it, my dear. Reason it out.”

“Well,” she began after a moment, “they have different outlooks about life and at least one of their parents is alien.”

“Therefore?”

“They wouldn’t be trusted by a Human organization,” the young girl concluded. “That’s what you mean by controlling.”

“I don’t think they’d like us being a part of Psi-Corps. We wouldn’t fit comfortably in their little click. Keep listening.”

“Okay.”

***


“Exploitation in which you and your organization are also partly to blame, Ms Mehta,” the same person interrupted. “I understand the problems your Earth has. What I don’t understand your superior attitude battering at my mental defenses every give second.”

“Excuse me, Mr.?”

“Dr. Daniel Bryant.”

“Dr. Bryant, have I offended you in some way?” Arati asked. “If I have, please explain it to me.”

“Don’t forget that every single one of us here are telepaths. Most of us are different than you and we ‘see’ things you’re pushing differently than you’re assuming that we can. In other worlds, many of us are hearing your words and seeing something else. Forced breeding disgusts me, smacks of eugenics something that most Federation Earth people abhor. No disrespect is intended but you’re broadcasting quite heavily, and, you didn’t answer the question about the identification of the gene-sequences that govern telepathy?”

“We’re very close to identifying the sequences.”

“And what happens when you find it?”

“PsiCorps will able to screen embryos and children for telepathy more efficiently, allowing for better protection for those children who would find themselves outcasts. We’ll be better able to protect those who would be aborted if their parents found out that they were carrying a child with those gifts.”

“You’re painting a very bleak picture of your world, Ms Mehta,” Professor Arthur Kelly stated. “It makes me wonder why anyone would even consider being part of your organization on your Earth. Maybe it would be better if you all just started a colony of your own. You’d have your own security and probably be happier in the long run.”

Arati was angry now and that anger managed to leak through into her words despite frantic warnings from Roberta. Her thoughts were being transmitted despite her best efforts. “Aren’t you under some kind of prime directive prohibition for suggesting something like that?”

“No,” he answered. “We’re not Starfleet; we’re not the Federation. We’re a part of the Federation. We can ask what we want. Speaking of which, how can we in all sincerity join a society that intends to force people escaping from your grip back to a life they hate?”

“You’re wrong. They don’t hate us. The Corps is mother and father to them. They have been misguided in their assumptions. We’re simply here to remind them of the love that we have for them. That’s all we have to do. I’m sure they’ll make the right choice.”

“I’m amazed you actually believe that, young lady.” An elderly woman stood. She looked Human but wasn’t. Her eyes gave her away as being alien. “I’ve listened to everything you’ve said and I’ve listened to your thoughts since this is a conference for telepaths. Betazed is a world born of telepathy as much as Vulcan and the world of the Deltans. I can stand her and speak for all of us when we say that your PsiCorps would not welcome us into your little group and we certainly wouldn’t want to join. Frankly, you’re a bit too immature, too self serving and your agendas are suspect. You’re just beginning to see the universe around you but instead you come her hoping to pull others into your little circle. You’re young ones just learning to crawl and that frightens you and makes you want to control those around you.”

“That’s not true. We are trying to survive in a hostile world that fears and despises us.”

“Yes, it is, little one,” the old woman countered. “It would be better if you come to us and let us teach you.”
Arati shook her head. “It appears that I may have erred coming here and asking my fellow cousins to join us. It was for your sakes that we came here. Together we may have been stronger, but I see that this will not happen.”
“Your conclusion is illogical,” a full Vulcan telepath told her. “I can understand the importance of such an organization. I do not however believe that your method is productive for your people. I also do not believe that one such as I or anyone with higher ratings that your p-thirteen, would be accepted by your people.”

“There’s some truth to your argument,” Arati conceded. ‘We don’t have more than three P-thirteens!’ “This is all new to us as well, meeting other Humans and aliens working together. We’re learning as we go along. PsiCorps isn’t some evil entity trying to subvert telepaths and take over Earth. We just want to survive and live on our own terms.”

Dr. Androv Povich stood up once more. “I’d like to get back to your opinion concerning my theory on Humanity and the telepathy conciliation. If it’s true then why might there have been such a radical increase of mutations or telepaths among your people in the last one hundred years?”

“I have no idea. I’m not a biological evolutionary scientist therefore I’m not qualified to give an answer to your question.”

“I understand that. But if that theory is true, then might your increase of telepaths on your world be a result of some artificial or aberrant condition? If Humans select against telepathy as it seems to do on just about every Human-occupied world in the Alpha quadrant, then how do you account for the radical increase in numbers, not only on your Earth but on some of the other worlds and species in your territories as well?”

“I have no idea…”

***
***

[tsukino_kage]

Nice... the funny thing, for once, Mudd really could have gotten on the ground floor of a successful trend. If he play it straight.

Right, it's Harry Mudd so, no chance in hell he won't do something wrong, cheat someone, and get gutted.

And we finally see the rest of the Psi-Corp bashing. Fun!

Finally, is Nur completely blind to REALITY? Seriously, his conspiracy theory sounds like something a violent terrorist could come up with if he drank 2 bottles of absinthe and lcd mixed with vodka for 7 nights in a row.

[Skeet]

Originally Posted by tsukino_kage

Finally, is Nur completely blind to REALITY? Seriously, his conspiracy theory sounds like something a violent terrorist could come up with if he drank 2 bottles of absinthe and lcd mixed with vodka for 7 nights in a row.

True. And part of this portion will be expanded up with Nur in the upcoming chapter. He does sound like a 'present day' image of we think terrorists are and the slight changes that you will see will pull away from that. As a Minbari his actions and thought patterns are-not-human and we have already modified it accordingly.

The next chapter will be out fairly soon and then ATV proper will be out. I am targeting Sunday at the latest depending on how I can get it done.

[Inquisitor]

Originally Posted by tsukino_kage

Nice... the funny thing, for once, Mudd really could have gotten on the ground floor of a successful trend. If he play it straight.

Right, it's Harry Mudd so, no chance in hell he won't do something wrong, cheat someone, and get gutted.

And we finally see the rest of the Psi-Corp bashing. Fun!

Finally, is Nur completely blind to REALITY? Seriously, his conspiracy theory sounds like something a violent terrorist could come up with if he drank 2 bottles of absinthe and lcd mixed with vodka for 7 nights in a row.

guess his business if he's still alive would get wiped out by the introduction of replicators...also i thought he was cloned into an android body in one of the ST: TOS episodes...he could always go back to those planet as long as he has an escape plan in place...

as for the Minbari spy, i thought he was already captured...anyway ever since he got beamed over, Starfleet intelligence had been keeping watch of him...which means, they also caught the Romulan ambassador giving sensitive information in assisting a terrorist...not sure how Starfleet Intelligence will handle this as the Romulan ambassador does have diplomatic immunity...

as for the Psicorps, i think the attendees should realize that they keep saying SURVIVE too many times instead of Living...members of psicorps had been under threat instead of just taking matters and living their lives out in anonymity...the federation telepaths probably understood that psicorps has a ghetto mentality that's trying to ensure all of its members have the thinking of surviving instead of living...even in psicorps, there's no benefit in living with them if the fed teeps join them as members of the psicorps think that they're an endangered species...in reality their way of thinking is endangered as teeps are randomly born in the EA...overall it's all about power and control...if no one cares about those then their entire agenda in recruiting fed teeps is doomed to fail as the alpha quadrant is too big and most teeps that's not accepted just wants to be left alone instead of joining a club of losers...

[Rastamon]

Originally Posted by tsukino_kage

Nice... the funny thing, for once, Mudd really could have gotten on the ground floor of a successful trend. If he play it straight.

Right, it's Harry Mudd so, no chance in hell he won't do something wrong, cheat someone, and get gutted.

And we finally see the rest of the Psi-Corp bashing. Fun!

Finally, is Nur completely blind to REALITY? Seriously, his conspiracy theory sounds like something a violent terrorist could come up with if he drank 2 bottles of absinthe and lcd mixed with vodka for 7 nights in a row.

Actually, it's easy for Humans to think this way, given the "right" conditions. Think of all the conspiracy theorists.

When I wrote Nur's thoughts, I put myself in a mindset that a terrorist might have. To make this as accurate as possible, I looked at the Development of a Jihadist's Mind.

Very enlightening read, that was. And useful for writing characters like Nur.

[kclcmdr]

Dang Nanclus for finding out that fake Centauri ...!
Hopefully StarFleet Intel is watching very VERY closely...

Pity that Arati couldn't state...
I know nothing... I am nothin... I see nothinnnng.

Harry ... Harry ... why couldn't you see the dear Unlearnert Dr. Khali and stuff his marbles with a tribble...

[tryglaw]

Originally Posted by kclcmdr

Dang Nanclus for finding out that fake Centauri ...!
Hopefully StarFleet Intel is watching very VERY closely...

Watching every step of ambassadorial staff is something of a standard service you know. Nobody ever admits it, but everybody knows it. Sort of the way this game is played.

[Mastigo]

I think you need to introduce at least a partially likeable facet to some of the 1 dimensional personalities. "When A Felon's Not Engaged In His Employment" and all of that.

[Tweeky]

Great new part, Skeet, however I was under the impression that Nur had already been caught. Anyway, how many chapters of ATV are left before it is complete?

[Hypochondriac]

Originally Posted by Tweeky

Great new part, Skeet, however I was under the impression that Nur had already been caught. Anyway, how many chapters of ATV are left before it is complete?

Same here I remember reading a chapter where a Minbari spy was caught

[Skeet]

Chapter Fourteen

Paris, France, Earth
United Federation of Planets

Dr. Khali craned his head to take in the sight of the gold-tipped Obelisk of Ramses II rising in the center of the Place de la Concorde in front of the Palais de la Concorde. The red granite obelisk, still displaying its ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs and standing on the French pedestal with its gold images of how the obelisk was transported from Egypt and erected here, was flanked by the two Concorde fountains, splashing water. If he turned to his right, to the north, he’d see the old royal buildings of the five-star Hôtel de Crillon and its twin, the old French Naval Ministry, now serving as the Federation Ministry of the Exterior. Down the Rue Royale between the identical buildings, he could see the Church of the Madeleine built like a wide Roman temple.

To his left was the River Seine and the Pont de la Concorde allowing access across the river to the Palais Bourbon, now serving as a museum, and almost a mirror image of the Madeleine Church. In the near distance, Khali could see the famous Tour Eiffel reaching for the sky.

– All the same as Paris on his Earth.

It was when he looked straight beyond Pharaoh Ramses II’s obelisk that things were different. The oval-cylindrical glass façade of the Palais de la Concorde rose sixteen floors tall and housed the nexus of Federation government. Wide arches raised the Palais to allow the Avenue des Champs-Élysées to run uninterrupted from the Arc de Triomphe to the Place de la Concorde underneath the Palais. Even now, a traffic of odd-looking, but sleek ground vehicles ran between the flanking statues of rampant horses on their high pedestals. Pedestrians, both Human and alien, walked everywhere. Some were clearly tourists, taking pictures of this and that with cameras unknown in the Earth Alliance.

Someone had told him that the Palais was built in the style of the French Third Empire. Khali could care less except that it informed him that where his France elected a totalitarian government some time before the Third World War, this world’s France had an Emperor for the third time in its history. Yet more indications that both Earths had the same history until it diverged somewhere during the last year of the American President Bill Clinton’s administration. Khali’s Clinton had established a Commission on the Future while this Earth’s Clinton did no such thing. He wondered whether the cloning of Earth occurred sometime in the 1990’s.

Cloning, not copying.

Even if Federation Earth was a clone of Alliance Earth, there were several physical differences: Gravett Island near the Polynesian islands didn’t exist on Khali’s Earth; the Hermosa Earthquake in 2047 sank part of Los Angeles into the Pacific Ocean, which didn’t occur on his Earth.

Speaking of the future….

Khali took a deep breath. Today was the day of the special session of the Federation Council. He strode across the plaza, passed one of the rampant horse statues and made a beeline straight for one of the four thick pillars holding up the corners of the Palais. He looked around anxiously. Where could his assistants be?

He fumed. He knew that he was early but they should already be here! He had specifically told Theresa Anderson and Samuel Vernon to meet him at the Palais entrance. Theresa could be so stubborn and it would be just like her to deviate from his specific instructions. It would also be just like her to bully poor Samuel into following her. He was a good student, that one. Never one to confront his mentor, but Professor Khali knew that he didn’t have the strength of personality to resist the likes of Theresa. Still, he was ideal for molding. If he had his way, he’d flunk Theresa so hard no amount of brilliance on her part could ever admit her into any doctorate program in the Ivy League. Her family was very wealthy and influential, though. And she knew things, or thought she did…

He sighed peevishly, went through the entrance in the nearest thick pillar and swiped his ID through a scanner set on the desk in front of the Starfleet Security guard within. The guard nodded and pressed a button which opened the turbolift at the end of the marble lobby. Once Khali was in the lift, it automatically took him up to the first floor.

When the lift doors slid open, Khali saw that other people had the same thought as his: getting to the Council early. In the well-appointed antechamber with black marble floor, councilors, ambassadors and reporters milled while two helmeted and armored Starfleet Security guards flanked the monumental silver doors to the council chamber. There were aliens of all types, shapes and colors among the councilors and ambassadors: humanoid aliens with big hair; with leather head-bands wrapped like turbans; with netting on the face; with purple skin; with yellow skin and horizontal nose slits. Other aliens that Khali recognized to be Andorian, Tellarite, Vulcan, Deltan, Catullan, Tiburonian, Klingon, Gorn, Horta and myriad others. What he would do to have some time speaking to a Horta. The social history of living rocks would be worth several papers.

There were two Vulcan men wearing dark grey robes with black linings and headdresses that reminded Khali of the Egyptian pharaoh’s headdress, with a red triangular stone set in gold on the crown of the headdresses. The older Vulcan seemed stern, had a large ruby red square on his chest and an insignia that looked like a sword thrust into the type of a celestial globe. That identified the older man as the Vulcan councilor while the slightly less old man was his aide, wearing a gold squiggle, likely a symbol from the Vulcan language, in the middle of a large black triangle on the chest.

He’d like to avoid these Vulcans. The ones he’d met were too stubborn, to set in their ways, not open to new ideas or even self-evident truths. So many aliens. There was even a couple of that dwarfish alien race with the copper skin, the Ithenites. Khali had known that the Federation had one hundred or so member worlds but knowing and seeing were different things. To make matters worse, this special session was open to ambassadors from alien worlds that were not part of the Federation. Their presence would interfere with humanity’s conversation. The Federation Humans needed to keep this in the family.

Despite the confusion of aliens, Khali easily spotted Ambassadors G’Kar and Mollari. As he made his way to them, he passed a Deltan councilor who wore a white robe, a jeweled string strung from the belt on the right side to the left shoulder, and an odd hat that looked like a collection of leaves made of gold leaf.

And Khali was imagining the Deltan man naked.

Gasping in shock at that, he quickly moved away from the bald alien man. Khali should have remembered that Deltans had powerful pheromones and their subconscious telepathy constantly worked on all those close to them.

G’Kar and Londo Mollari were watching Khali with knowing interest. Their aides stood a respectful distance behind them. One of the aides was making sure that his ostentatious brooch was arranged just right on his coat.

“How did you like that?” teased G’Kar.

Khali glared at the Narn ambassador.

Londo chuckled. “These Deltans are fascinating, yes? I would daresay that the goddess Li is the patroness of Delta IV. Dress their women in tight bodices, wide skirts, laces and some jewels and you’d mistake them for Centauri ladies but much more alluring, hmmm?”

“Much more compatible with my people than yours, Mollari,” said G’Kar, grinning, before Khali could answer.

Londo feigned concern. “I was told that unprepared humanoids risk insanity by coupling with Deltans. Something about a total immersion of the minds.” He looked as if a thought had just occurred to him. “I’ve heard that you’ve tried to bed some Deltans, G’Kar.” Londo frowned at his Narn counterpart. “I completely fail to understand why you’re so fascinated with bedding non-Narn women, especially Humans. And now Human-looking aliens, too. Then again, Narns are prone to seeking insanity.” The Centauri ambassador bared his teeth in a grin. “Feeling insecure about your…compatibility with other Narns?”

G’Kar narrowed his red eyes at Londo. “It’s not your business to know how I do things in bed, Mollari.”

“Or fail to do.” Londo smiled again. “I’ve heard that all of the Deltans have refused your advances. Something about…” Londo pretended to recall something difficult to remember, waving a hand by his head. “…being…‘sexually immature’, isn’t it?”

While Londo was laughing, G’Kar shot back. “At least I don’t spend time oppressing worlds and eat babies in my free time!”

“Look here—!”

Khali rolled his eyes at the two bickering aliens and sidled away from them. Sometimes he thought that they acted like a married couple. In fact they seemed to be overdoing it somewhat considering the present company. Apparently, the rumored deal between their two nations was being forced upon them and all they could do was snip at each other. He spotted Theresa and Samuel.

“There you are! I’ve been waiting for you! Why weren’t you there at the entrance, Miss Anderson?”

“Professor, we—”

Khali cut her off with a raised hand. “Miss Anderson, it doesn’t matter.” He sighed as he squeezed the bridge of his nose. “We were invited to this council session. However, I was invited to speak in it. Not you. It doesn’t matter if you show up or not. I can see that you’re not motivated as my assistant. Mr. Vernon could take up your workload if you’re so stressed that you cannot make it on time.”

Theresa knew Khali meant she’d get a bad grade. Fire burned in her eyes. “We were on time. You were early. Right, Samuel?”

Samuel Vernon widened his eyes at the question. He never liked getting in the middle of these arguments. “Uh, well, I-I didn’t know the time….” He trailed off lamely. More and more, Dr. Johnson’s assistantship in psychology looked better and better. This stress was getting to him. He had to get out before they killed each other.

Khali speared the young male graduate student with his eyes. “What’s your excuse, Mr. Vernon?”

God, how he hated being trapped between the two of them! “Well, I…I was organizing some of your notes and I…forgot the time.” Samuel shrugged. “Theresa got me.”

The sound of a gong reverberated throughout the antechamber and the huge silver doors slid open. The councilors and ambassadors began to file into the council chamber.

He sighed peevishly, went through the entrance in the nearest thick pillar and Dr. Khali nodded. “All right” She got away this time. But he luck was bound to run out and when it did, he’d finally have an excuse to get rid of her. “At least you’re here. I hope the both of you can learn from this session,” he announced with supreme arrogance, something he could do since he had in essence their future lives in his hands. “You’re very lucky to be here and I really hope that you appreciate that.” That last sentence was directed at both students but Khali was looking straight at Theresa who showed that she understood by pursing her lips.

The professor turned and joined the crowd flowing through the open doors, followed by his young protégées.

Khali felt a mild thrill when he entered the huge chamber that took up most of the first floor of the Palais de la Concorde. Below the floor ran the Champs-Élysées, which the Palais straddled upon duranium arches. It was here in this room that much of the Federation government work was done. Though the building was cylindrical, the council chamber was rectangular. In front of the south wall was a marble platform reachable by three marble steps. On that and to the side was the glass podium emblazoned with the symbol of the United Federation of Planets, which matched the Great Seal put upon recessed red wall between flat marble pillars on the south wall itself. Also on the platform to the other side from the podium and set slantwise were three throne-like seats. That podium was where the leader of the session stood, and was where the Federation President stood during full council sessions.

This one was to be a full council session. The Federation President, an Efrosian man named Ra’ghoratreii, was standing at the podium, gazing at the milling crowd through delicate-looking spectacles. The blueness of his eyes was in stark contrast with his flowing paper-white hair and partial goatee, and his dark suit.

Khali swallowed and looked around. Why was he getting nervous? On the east wall were three rows of twenty seats each, with a matching set on the west wall. These one hundred and twenty seats were for the councilors, which currently numbered one hundred. Khali had learned that when the chamber was first built, there was only one row on either side. When the one hundred and twenty-first planet join the Federation, two more rows would be added to keep the room’s balance, and allow for the next two-score worlds to be added to the Federation’s members.

The north wall gallery above the silver doors was where spectators, including reporters, Starfleet officers and government staffers, were allowed to observe open sessions. Special guests and ambassadors, though, were sometimes allowed to sit in the empty seats in the councilors’ rows. Klingon Ambassador Kamarag was already sitting in one of these empty seats, as far away from Romulan Ambassador Nanclus as possible.

In front of the marble stepped platform was the speaker’s floor, centered on the Federation Great Seal set in the pure black marble floor polished to a reflective shine. With the exception of the President, no one could speak to the council except from that floor. Khali was told that councilors could speak to each other or via the workstations in front of them to people outside the chamber. In full council sessions, any official council statements for the record had to come either from the podium or the floor. Whoever designed the room had arranged the slant of the ceiling in such a way that the space was almost acoustically perfect. One could clearly hear every word from the floor no matter where you sat.

It was there on that floor that Khali and the other special guests would make their speeches.

As he made his way to his seat in the first west row with G’Kar, Londo and their aides, the Federation Council began with the usual tedious business, including taking a roll call. Ninety-six of the councilors were present. Those who were absent were away to investigate matters on their homeworlds. Starfleet Security guards in their ceremonial helmets and armor stood at intervals at the back of the south wall platform and flanked the entrance into the council chamber. Three high Federation officials were seated in the thrones on the platform. Khali recognized them to be Vice-President St. John Talbot, Exterior Secretary Adam Zagrin and blue-skinned Interior Secretary Amitra of Pandril.

Khali was interested to note that the Federation Council was arranged in a similar way to that of the old British Parliament which may itself have been based on the arrangement of the ancient Roman Senate. This was in marked contrast with the Earth Alliance Senate which was arranged like the old United States Senate in the Palais des Nations in Geneva, Switzerland. He wondered whether the arrangement would have any effect on how star nations could be governed.

Once the preliminaries were out of the way, the silver doors to the council chamber slid shut and President Ra’ghoratreii paused for a moment before speaking.

“Sixty-one years ago, the people of the Federation elected a Trill woman by the name of Madza Bral to be their President. She was the first person not from one of the five founding worlds to serve in that office. She served two terms and then declined to run for a third, citing exhaustion and old age. She said in what was essentially her retirement speech. This is what she said and I quote: ‘The presidency is quite possibly the worst job in the Federation. The hours are long, the work is difficult, and the decisions that have to be made are unimaginable to anyone who has never set foot in the Palais de la Concorde. Your successes are unappreciated, your failures are blown all out of proportion, and your life disintegrates before your very eyes. And having said all that, I would never, under any circumstance, trade the last eight years for anything.”

“I sometimes find myself in agreement with President Bral.”

There were a few chuckles in the council chamber.

“However, the presidency gives me the enviable job of welcoming new species to what I hope will be a long and fruitful relationship with the United Federation of Planets. My friends, we are here to welcome the delegations from the Earth Alliance, the Centauri Republic and the Narn Regime.”

Applause rose within the council chamber as Khali, G’Kar and Mollari stood, bowing their thanks. When the applause died down, Ra’ghoratreii continued.

“The first speaker for this special session of the Federation Council is Dr. Amir Rajiv Khali, a noted specialist in xeno-psychology and xeno-politics and an accredited professor of the Earth Alliance’s Harvard University, an institute that is just as highly respected as our Harvard University in the Federation. Without further ado, the podium recognizes the delegate from the Earth Alliance.”

Was it Khali’s imagination, or did Ra’ghor sound slightly pained when he opened the floor for him? He put that out of his mind as he stood up, walked down the steps out of the councilor rows to stand right in the center of the Federation Great Seal on the floor. He took a deep breath and began:

“Ex astris scientia. Those words are the motto of your Federation Starfleet Academy. It’s from an old Human language called Latin. Nobody’s spoken it conversationally for several hundred years but we like to use it once in a while to make ourselves sound more interesting. For those who do not have the benefit of Human classical education, it means, ‘From the stars, knowledge.’

“The thing about the stars is that they do provide knowledge, but that comes with a concomitant risk. Nothing underlines that risk more than the fact that we are at war with an alien species bent on genocide and other crimes against sentience. The Federation Starfleet, due to the unfortunate accident of the Minbari misidentifying Regulus as a distant Earth Alliance colony, contacted my people. Starfleet proceeded to save us from the Minbari juggernaut.

“Or did they?”

There were murmurings among the audience in the council chamber. At the podium, Ra’ghor adjusted his spectacles with concern. Dr. Khali continued to speak.

“There’s an old Human saying: knowledge is power. Another one says that power corrupts. While we were in transit through what you call the Courtor-Terra Superhighway, we came into contact with starships from the future of an alternate universe. From them, we found out that in that alternate universe, the Minbari surrendered at Earth’s very doorstep. That fact leads us to the amazing conclusion that my people survived the Earth-Minbari War without the Federation’s help. In fact, the Federation’s help escalated the present war to a point beyond anything in that alternate universe. That point resulted in the prolonging of the war and in the Minbari nuclear bombing of my people’s colonies such as Beta 9. From these facts and more besides, we must come to the inescapable conclusion that the guilt of the slaughter of innocents must be laid at the doorstep of the Federation Starfleet.”

The murmurs grew a little louder as councilors, ambassadors and government staffers turned to each other in shock and surprise. In the spectator gallery above the massive closed doorway into the council chamber, reporters furiously jotted down notes. In the front councilor row, Theresa Anderson threw her face into the palm of her hand.

“We must also come to another inescapable conclusion: alien influence is detrimental to Humanity.”

The murmuring among the alien ambassadors and councilors grew much louder at that until President Ra’ghor banged a gavel on his podium, calling for order and quiet. Several councilors had to resist the urge to turn on the light in front of them, signaling a desire to come to the floor and verbally spar with Dr. Khali. In their high-backed chairs, Secretaries Adam Zagrin and Amitra whispered to each other while Vice-President St. John Talbot gripped the arms of his chair hard.

“From those starships from the future of an alternate universe, we found out that an ancient race known simply as the Shadows imposed undue influence on the peoples of my region, including the Earth Alliance. In that universe, Senator William Morgan Clark, God bless his soul, became President of the Earth Alliance, and the Shadows proceeded to dupe him into causing a disastrous civil war among my people.

“This is not to say that we, I, do not appreciate the invaluable assistance you have provided so far for the Earth Alliance. Far from it. However, the blood that the Minbari has spilled so far in this war is on your hands. No one can wash their hands and claim innocence.

“Nevertheless, I come to you, not to antagonize you but to repay you in kind by personally helping you. If history’s any guide—and it usually is, political entities that involve such disparate alien species and cultures cannot stand serious scrutiny. Left to themselves and deprived of any great menace with which to unite them, union is difficult at best unless a dominant species steps forward to take up the burden of governance and guidance. The Centauri knew this. The Narn are finding this out. The Romulans and the Klingons know this. In this Federation, Humanity is the glue that holds you together and the Vulcans are the peacemakers among you. Take them away, the Federation would not, cannot, exist. The more the Federation grows, the more difficult the task of governance and guidance becomes.

“One of Isaac Newton’s laws is that what goes up must come down. Empires, no matter their form and type, all rise and fall. That is a fact of history, however much we might not like it for our current nations. Usually, a large interstellar empire needs one single dominant species to maintain it—look at the Centauri. At the height of their power, the Centauri controlled over one hundred fifty star systems. And now, the Centauri Republic is down to twelve systems and a thousand monuments to past glories, living off memories and stories.

Londo Mollari shifted in his seat. He wasn’t sure he appreciated Khali using the Centauri as an example and a warning of the Federation’s possible future.

“The Federation hasn’t had a real war since the Four Years War almost fifty years ago and that was just a war to repel Klingon invaders from Federation territory. Just twenty-five years ago, you had thirty member worlds, not counting colonies. Now, with the recent entrance of Betazed into the Federation, you now have one hundred member worlds, again not counting colonies—a seventy-percent growth rate. Seventy-percent growth rate in just twenty-five years.”

Khali shook his head as if he was amazed. “Such a rapid expansion over two decades cannot be stable or sustainable for any star nation. As the Centauri found out centuries ago and you will discover, there is a size limit to any interstellar political entity. Granted, Centauri rule was stable for two hundred years before worlds began to slip through their fingers, but that was just one dominant species governing all. You have one hundred different worlds all equally involved in Federation government. I have never seen such a political entity as the Federation before, though there is a resemblance to the League of Non-Aligned Worlds—a collection of cold wars between worlds that constantly backstab each other and look for ways to get the upper hand over each other. That example does not make me optimistic about the future outlook of the Federation. Having a multi-species nature in a government is a recipe for political and military disaster. The Federation’s rapid growth will push you to the point where the Federation flies apart. One day, the Federation will polarize into factions, and that in itself provides the potential for civil war.”

Ra’ghor raised his white eyebrows at that and took off his spectacle to clean it with a handkerchief, softly muttering to himself under his breath as Khali continued speaking.

“The Federation has been holding itself together due to threats of the Romulan and Klingon Empires. The Klingons, as a threat, are gone and replaced by the Minbari. Remember what the Soviet propagandist Georgi Arbatov said when Soviet Union fell in the late 20th century: ‘We’re going to do the worst thing we can do to you. We are going to take your enemy away from you.’ You need enemies as a reason to exist. The Federation exists because of the Earth-Romulan War. Of course, your ideals are all good but they’re too abstract to be the only reason to exist. Your Starfleet has starships that have sufficient weaponry to lay waste to entire planets—not really much of a peaceful message of your ideals, is it?

“There are many reasons for the continued existence of the Federation as a cohesive political entity, one of which is the Helsinki Complex.”

Again, murmurs rose among the audience in the council chamber. This time, it was quieter and full of confusion and puzzlement.

“The Helsinki Complex,” repeated Khali to emphasize the point. “It is like Stockholm Syndrome except that it is applied to associations with aliens. As we meet more advanced aliens, we’d have cases where people adore, even worship, those aliens. This worship eventually becomes a kind of self-hatred where the worshipper tries to be like those more advanced aliens and make others around him do the same. Though you do not know this theory that prevails among the Earth Alliance intelligentsia, you acknowledge it with the Prime Directive. The Prime Directive protects your pre-FTL worlds from the Helsinki Complex, at least until they achieve faster-than-light travel technology. The fact that no major star nation has joined the Federation is very telling. All of your member worlds have been small non-aligned planets that were attracted to the Federation and were lured into joining. It would appear that the Federation is taking full advantage of that psychological aspect to expand and maintain such a huge territory.

“You might deny that, even criticize it. Remember the old axiom: If you want to know about water, do not ask a fish.

“Sic semper tyrannis. Another Latin phrase which means ‘thus always to tyrants’. It holds special meaning for those Humans who are aware of the histories of Rome and America. It is also a warning for all who hears it. Should any species seek to dominate an empire, the local species and races will resent their rulers or government. You are cognizant of that danger by enforcing the Prime Directive. Sic semper tyrannis. The Minbari have used terror to tyrannize us. A basic tenet of civilized behavior is to treat others as you would have others treat you. Since the Minbari treat us with contempt and genocidal hatred, they will receive the same treatment in kind—”

In the rows where several of his Federation contemporaries were, he saw to his immediate shock that some of them were openly laughing at him! Laughing! He expected shock, even hostility coming from them, but not laughter! By some unnamed reflex, he glanced at his grad students. Miss Anderson’s face was filled with contempt, something that was far too common coming from her. But there was also something else. Embarrassment. But then he mused, what did she know?

In the councilor rows, one of Londo Mollari’s two aides stood up, causing Khali to pause in his speech to look at him in affronted surprise. President Ra’ghor banged his gavel once more, saying, “I am aware that many of you desire a rebuttal of Dr. Khali’s speech, but you must have the patience and politeness to wait until he is finished.”

“I doubt that my good friend, Turo Condari, will rebut me,” Khali said with a smile. A friend in a room filled with the ignorant and confused was most welcomed. “In fact—”



***



He couldn’t stand it any more. Khali’s prattling insulted him and his people to no end. The choices of the Minbari were the Minbari’s alone! For good or evil, they took responsibility for their actions, not blamed others. Besides Khali’s conclusions were incredibly wrong. Apparently the universe of that other ship didn’t have a Federation to go to war with it. That vessel and the Klingon warship were from yet another universe. The variables were comprehensively different. If the learned professor had been able to see beyond himself for just ten seconds, he might have realized that. But he was just a Human and a sad excuse for one at that. However he had served his purpose and all eyes were upon him, allowing the perfect cover for the dagger to strike before anyone could do anything about it. Here he was in the very heart of the Federation seat of power to do with as he will.
Nur could have detonated the explosives at any time; however a point had to be made. Before they all died, they had to know that the Minbari were a power not to be trifled with. Even at death’s door they could strike, sending a final knife into the very heart of their enemies. If Minbar fell, then there would be no glory for these who allied themselves with darkness. They would know in their final instants of life that the light always prevailed.

Turo Condari spoke quietly, but thanks to the council chamber’s acoustic design, all could hear him and Khali was interrupted yet again. “Death rides on my shoulder, death walks in my footsteps. I am death.”

Londo Mollari was trying to shush him and order him to sit down. But then Turo gripped his left hand with his right hand, shouted, “For the vengeance of the Blood Knives and to Minbar’s glory!” and twisted it down hard so that his wrist broke. The snap of bones breaking was quite audible in the council chamber.

The people gathered within the chamber and watching the proceedings on view-screens outside it were shocked. But no one was more shocked than the Centauri ambassador.

The helmeted and armored guards stepped forward toward Turo.

When nothing happened as Turo expected, he snarled, snatched a brooch off of his coat and grabbed Londo’s neck with his left arm, holding the brooch’s pin to his neck.

“Stop! The pin has instant poison!”

The guards paused.

G’Kar launched himself across Londo’s body and quickly grabbed hold of Turo’s intact hand holding the brooch, and twisted the broken hand with his other gloved hand. Turo screamed at the unexpected pain and G’Kar used the opportunity to send the brooch flying out to the floor between the councilor rows. Twisting away from G’Kar, Turo stumbled backward and the Klingon Ambassador Kamarag backhanded the agent so hard he fell over the barrier to the floor.

Before Turo could reach the poisoned brooch, one of the guards fired a phaser at him, stunning him.

The Romulan ambassador merely sighed. Incompetence bored him, although in this case it might have proven to be a good thing for everyone here including himself if what he suspected was true.




***



Khali watched all this with his mouth hanging open. As he tried to recover, mouth opening and closing like a fish, the guards picked up Turo’s unconscious body and carried him out of the chamber.

Kamarag looked up at the assembled dignitaries and shrugged at those who were looking at him, including Nanclus.

The light in front of the female Betazoid councilor lit up. Shakily, Ra’ghor noticed and banged his gavel for attention. “The podium recognizes the councilor from Betazed.”

Instead of coming down to the floor, Reida Suder, First Mistress of the Betazoid Parliament, stood up and wondered aloud, “Why did he break his wrist like that? If he wanted to kill somebody, that’s a very pointless way of going about it.”

President Ra’ghor shakily turned to one of the guards, “Do you have any explanation?”

The guarded nodded. “Yes, Mr. President. He thought that by breaking his wrist, he’d trigger a chemical bomb inside his body. Starfleet detected it and removed it while beaming Mr. Condari in a transporter. If the bomb had been intact, there would have been a detonation in the sub-nuclear range.”

Khali blanched as he realized that meant the Palais and a large part of Paris would have been destroyed, killing all within and a sizable portion of the general population. And he immediately realized that he was friends with a terrorist. But why?

A light lit up in front of the Tellarite councilor.

“The podium recognizes the councilor from Tellar.”

The Tellarite stood up and shouted in anger, “The Centauri wanted us all dead! This means war! I move that we punish the Centauri for this!”
Many other councilors nodded and loudly murmured their assent. Londo’s face went pale.

Another light lit up, signaling a desire to speak.

Surprised at the identity of the person who requested the right to speak to the Council, Ra’ghor banged his gavel again for quiet and attention. He said, “The podium recognizes the ambassador from Narn.”

G’Kar stood and loudly said, “Despite their numerous acts of unrestrained barbarism towards my people and many other peoples throughout our regions of space, I can’t see Londo Mollari or the Centauri people perpetrating such a heinous act against those whom they have established positive political and economical ties with.”

Everyone in the chamber stared at G’Kar with surprise. All knew about the antagonism between the Narn and Centauri and about the seemingly personal antagonism between G’Kar and Londo.

The guard had been whispering into Ra’ghor’s ear while G’Kar was speaking. The President banged his gavel once for attention and said, “Very commendable, Ambassador G’Kar. In fact, you’re right. Mr. Condari is not Centauri. He’s a Minbari genetically and cosmetically modified to infiltrate the Centauri embassy in order to carry out his mission against us.”

That was the last straw for Dr. Khali. Not only was Turo a terrorist but he was actually a Minbari with whom he felt friendship! He fainted.


***




Londo gazed up at G’Kar. It touched him that a Narn like G’Kar whom he had once dreamed would kill him in the future would defend Londo and his people. When G’Kar looked back down at him, Londo opened his mouth, trying to find words.

After a moment, Londo finally said softly, “I still hate you.” He couldn’t help it.

Victory! G’Kar smiled, wanted to bow, but managed to refrain himself. For this glorious occasion only one word seemed best to sum exactly how he felt at this moment.

“Good.”





USS Monroe
Archanis IV


It was night when the Federation ship arrived over Archanis IV. Twelve visitors the Sheridans, General Lupinsky, Captain Sinclair, PsiCorps specialist Toni Williams, Psicop Alfred Bester and six Federation personnel beamed down to the middle of the busy square. They young people stopped and stared, laughing at the queasy looks on some of the visitors apparently having trouble adjusting to the transport procedure.

It was late evening but the city of twenty thousand was packed with people going about their business. Sinclair was impressed by the buildings and the architectural structure surrounding him. The night sky was absolutely spectacular with the entire view filled with stars and even a couple of nebula visible to the naked eye. He was still gaping at the scenery as two young men approached them.

One of them gave a slight nod. “Captain Miller? Distinguished guests, welcome to Archanis IV colony.”

The captain of the Monroe returned the nod. “Thank you, James. It’s good to see you again. How are the kids?”

“Growing like weeds. Kennedy lost her tooth.”

“Good for her. I have a gift for her I’ll give to you later. I believe the governor is expecting us.”

“Yes, if you will all follow me?”

As they walked into the building, Miller commented on the improvements since his last visit.

“Ah, yes. We’ve had several new immigrations in the last few months including a small group of Tellarites,” he smirked. “We also had the Earth Alliance escapees and their telepaths. They’ve had a few problems adjusting but they’re doing fine.”

“Those untrained telepaths are dangerous,” Tony interjected much to Sinclair’s irritation. “Are you keeping them isolated from the rest of the community?”

“Why would we do that? We’ve not had any problems with them. The social workers and Vulcan specialists have been helping them adjust to their new situation. They’re doing a bit better than the Earth Alliance colonists are to them. There’s some type of prejudice between them but it’s been fading that the kids are here in the city doing quite well.”

“They’re not doing well,” Tony huffed. “They hijacked an Earth Alliance ship during a time of war. They subverted the crew and violated dozens of Earth Alliance regulations. They’re not stable and need to be home where they belong.”

“Well, you’ll have to talk to the governor about that. In the morning we’ll be able to talk to their representatives.”

Sinclair remained silent, glancing at John and David during the short, terse exchange. It was blatantly obvious that the PsiCorps rep had no interest in talking.

This was going to be a problem.

***

[Skeet]

What you're reading here is the actual account of Khali's and Nur's adventures. The previous chapter two chapters had Sheridan, Sinclair and David S. discussing what happened in this latest chapter 14. Originally I was going to just mention it in passing however since it was written so wonderfully by Ren I decided to post it in the subsequent chapter 13 and 14.

Tweeky we're about 4 chapters away from the End of ATV.

[kclcmdr]

Londo gazed up at G’Kar. It touched him that a Narn like G’Kar whom he had once dreamed would kill him in the future would defend Londo and his people. When G’Kar looked back down at him, Londo opened his mouth, trying to find words.

After a moment, Londo finally said softly, “I still hate you.” He couldn’t help it.

Victory! G’Kar smiled, wanted to bow, but managed to refrain himself. For this glorious occasion only one word seemed best to sum exactly how he felt at this moment.

“Good.”

<CHUCKLE!>
Even saving Londo's life...
One can guess that G'Kar loves the irony of not only saving him but saving his reputation & his hide from the wrath of the Federation members...

Khali should'a thrown up instead of fainted ...
Good buddy & death facing him at the same time.

AND ... They laugh at Khali... such ... joy ...

[norjc]

Nicely done, Skeet, very nicely done! I loved how that whole thing blew up, so to speak, in Khali's face. Though since he was introduced as the EA representative, I can't wait to see what Sheridan's dad will do or how he will report what occurred to President Levy. I think Khali is toast, particularly when it becomes known he associated with a Minbari terrorist.