Just wrote this on a morning coffee buzz. I'm on a rather different time zone, so I hope i've made the deadline and not screwed up somehow..
*
He had heard that the Cardassians said that the Romulan heart was as grey as their planet. But as Aegnor remembered Romulus, grand old Romulus, he remembered only colour. Perhaps not the vivid gold of Cardassia or the blues of Earth that he had seen on holograms. But it was an elegantly, discreetly hued planet as befitted a planet with an Empress.
The Republic Flotilla Command of course immediately saw through the Republican veneer that Aegnor put up. One does not create a whole new space power overnight without seeing who your friends and enemies were. At his heart he was an Imperialist. Who in the right mind would get rid of a perfectly good Empress? Exchanging the power of one mind, one voice, for the clatter and dissonance of the many. Perhaps the Borg had a point. Wasn’t it bad enough that the Senate had absorbed power over the centuries and diluted the voice of the Crown? The ruin that came to Romulus was no doubt because of that partisan bickering – a bickering that rewarded the vainglorious and that would be multiplied many times over with a Republic, and the ruin that would surely again follow.
Aegnor stood at the tall, cold, windows of D’Tan’s flagship and regarded his new command with feelings so mixed it felt numb. The Republic had found use for his capable command and his inadequate loyalties. The Merothrax was his reward. An aging D’Deridex warbird. A 24th Century ship for his 24th Century loyalties. Outdated, but to his eyes, a vast and grand starship still unequalled in beauty by the new Republic designs. Just like his sentiments for what he had heard a Human describe as ‘Pax Imperia’ – the peace of the Empire. But the Republic would keep its Federation friends close, and those like him closer still.
Even his command staff were like mirrors of the pieces of his soul. No doubt the Cardassians would call his soul a grey soul. At this moment he felt inclined to agree. His First Officer, a capable man but seemingly obsessed with his vanished sister. Three tactical officers formerly from the Tal Shiar. Their dossiers indicated that they had been top-tier operatives specialising in locating the vulnerabilities of their foes, but as with all things Tal Shiar Aegnor wasn’t quite sure if they were locating vulnerabilities within or without the ship. A science officer whose only interest appeared to be the study of the disintegration of molecular structures. An engineering office who was mainly concerned with the explosive nature of things. It seemed the Merothrax would be an antimatter keg adrift in space.
He sourly fingered the new uniform and the data crystal in his hand that carried his new orders. His mission sounded just as doggedly desperate as the name of his uniform. The staff of the Flotilla referred with pride to the uniform as the Survivor’s uniform as though it reminded them of a battle hard-won. It rang poorly in his ears, sounding only like the bleats of immigrants scattered through the stars with no birthright, no proper place in the galaxy.
Still his orders held some hope. Assigned to the lowly patrol of the distant corners of the new Republic, perhaps some opportunity could be made of being forgotten. After all, obsolete or not, the D’Deridex was still a formidable power compared to the lesser species of the quadrant. As he looked on at the Merothrax, its running lights and windows glowed on as the engineering team powered up the starship for flight and the edges of the ship glowed green where the shield energies curved around its wings and crenellations. The sight filled him with some sense of purpose, and for a moment the numbness left him. Where the Merothrax went, a piece of the Empire would follow. And there was some satisfaction to be had in that.
