"Sir, I think Francona has a point. Not only will we need the additional resources should this threat prove out, if we don't keep the personnel who will be displaced occupied, we're going to have a piracy problem of unprecedented magnitude. Already there are two Mulluran admirals trying to set themselves up as warlords," Wallace told Admiral Harkness, the Political Affairs Liaison for Starfleet.
[Richard, I know perfectly well what you're saying, but there's no point in antagonizing the politicians right now. After what happened with Simmons and Dalrymple, they're scrambling for credibility. If we give any ground, regardless of the reasoning, the Senate will look bad. And when the Senate looks bad, Starfleet usually takes the heat.]
"Politics be damned! This is absolutely the right thing to do, and you know it!" Tarik replied. "We don't have enough resources to patrol the entire Mulluran Empire, and the supply line is so badly stretched that any disruption to it could doom everyone we have out here. And if we dismantle the Mulluran Empire completely there's no telling what this could mean in the near-term -- when we get a horde of pirates that make the Orions look like amateurs -- or the long-term, when the Eriarti come screaming down on us like a le'matya on a wounded sehlat."
"Gentlemen, the decision is out of your hands. The Mulluran fleet must be dismantled. As for the larger consequences, those have already been taken care of at a higher level. Now, if you'll excuse me..." The screen went blank.
"Son of a bitch!" both Wallace and Tarik exclaimed simultaneously.
"So what do we do now?" Tarik asked as the two left the conference room. Beyond the porthole the limb of the Mulluran homeworld stretched before them, looking much like Earth but with a decidedly alien geography.
"Have Francona give his speech. That should settle things down. From what we know the vast majority of the Mulluran populace still thinks highly of him. He may be able to garner us some credibility and get some of the moderates in the military to stand down."
"And if that doesn't happen?
"Then I guess this turns into a guerilla campaign," Wallace said with a heavy sigh. "But that's not your problem. In 30 days you're retired, remember?"
Tarik began coughing. The coughing spells had become more frequent. "How could I forget? There's nothing I hate more than leaving a job undone."
"It wasn't your choice. Bakar is still in the Mulluran Empire as far as we can tell, probably on the Mulluran homeworld. It seems the Order Police were keeping a very close eye on him, and we've got their files now."
"Yeah, but what a hell of a way to go!"
Wallace suddenly put a snap in his voice. "Tarik, as long as I've known you, you've never been a martyr. Don't become one now. Take whatever time you have and spend it with your wife and daughter. They need you more than the Mullurans do. Now, I've got some news for you."
Tarik looked at him questioningly.
"Right now you're nothing short of a minor celebrity at home. The Senate basically wants to thank you for saving their ass. You're going to be retired at Major General. It'll be proclaimed at your retirement ceremony. Enjoy your retirement, get a book deal, let everyone know all about what's happened out here."
"Hell of a thing... when I came out to the Briar Patch, I was a washed-up captain. Now I'm leaving with two stars!"
"Tell me about it. I've been kicked up too, to Vice-Admiral, thanks to all of this. As soon as we work out the terms with the Mullurans, I'm assigned to the Joint Chiefs of Staff."
"Congratulations, Richard!"
"Hell, just another damn desk job."
On Mullura Prime, A'dal Francona prepared for his last speech as leader of the Mulluran people.
The Imperial City was in ruins, trashed by waves of invading troops and rioting citizens. Three days after the invasion, the situation had started to calm down. The Civil Police (heavily supervised by Starfleet Security) had managed to get most of the city under a semblance of control. Now, the streets were quiet as people remained in their homes for the speech.
"My people, you have endured much. You have fought and sacrificed and proven yourselves beyond anyone's doubt to be citizens of the finest civilization the galaxy has ever produced.
"But the fight cannot go on. Our opponents -- I hesitate to use the word 'enemy' -- lie at our very doorstep. Our cities are in ruins, and we stand accused of committing some of the most abominable acts in the history of this or any other civilization.
"And the ironic thing -- the most horribly ironic thing -- is that it was not our fight."
"My people, we have been manipulated from without by an alien race. It was not the G'kra, who served us well for thousands of years and only sought to find their own destiny. It was not the Nausicaans. They were criminals but never of this magnitude. The Ferengi only sought to trade, and the Federation wished to welcome us to the larger community of nations as brothers and equals.
"We have been deceived, fellow Mullurans, by yet another race. An ancient race with tremendous power. They are known as the Eriarti. Their brutality extends back centuries. They tried to take control of the Federation not so long ago and were defeated only because one person was aware of the plot. They singlehandedly wiped out a world known as Tanzara over a hundred years ago before anyone could stop them. One of them had control of me since before I took power, and many of the Order Police are still controlled by them. Ample proof of this is available to anyone who asks, and I have ordered it distributed on the public information networks. Two of the Eriarti are in Federation custody as we speak and will be tried for their crimes.
"Because this was never our war, it stands to reason that we should no longer fight it. I have concluded an instrument of surrender with representatives of the Ferengi Alliance, G'kra Socialist Republic, Nausicaan Republic, and the United Federation of Planets. To my military commanders, if you at all value our people, you will stand down immediately and surrender to the nearest allied command authority.
"Our armed forces will be reduced significantly, but the allies will guarantee our integrity and safety for a time. Rather than depend upon slaves for all we need -- the practice of a decadent society -- we shall have to get used to our own work once again. With everything that needs to be repaired and replaced, and the lack of slaves to do the work, there shall be no shortage of work for honest Mullurans. And anyone working within the Empire regardless of race shall be paid and treated fairly. Those whom we've taken from other worlds shall be returned should they desire to leave. If the Nausicaans can abandon their ways of piracy for a productive and noble existence, how much more can we -- the brave people of Mullura -- do the same?
"I exhort you to cooperate with the allied authorities. There will be restrictions, but they will be nothing compared to what the Order Police and their Eriarti masters have put you through. I urge you not to turn upon them or upon one another. In time, we shall have our vengeance -- and we shall have it with our friends at our side.
"But regrettably I shall not be with you, my people. After this day I resign from every office I hold as an official of the Empire. Because a leader must accept responsibility for his people, I have agreed to endure a term of life imprisonment. I will take up orders as a monk of the Purple Faction and contemplate the horrid spiritual damage we have caused others and ourselves. You shall not hear from me from this day forward.
"Your destiny is in your hands. Under the guidance of Admiral Wallace and General Tarik of the Federation, a new constitution is being drafted for the Mulluran Empire. It will guarantee the right of every person to participate in the government and to choose leaders. It will guarantee the right of every person regardless of condition to read and write whatever he wants, pray or not pray however he wants, and own as much property as he can legally acquire. Every faction in Mulluran society is invited to join them as they construct new laws appropriate for our society -- and for the larger galactic community as a whole. As my final order as your leader, I ask that you lend them your full cooperation -- and turn your hands to rebuilding what was once great.
"And in time, we shall have our vengeance upon those who have truly misused us!"
Commandant Fal'kor stood at his post aboard the G'kra vessel Fist of the People. He was enraged as he heard Francona's speech.
Someone needs to pay dearly for all my people have been through! he thought to himself. Federation prisons are too soft. They should be made to suffer for their crimes!
"Comrade Crewman Sha'nor, is the weapon ready?"
"Yes, sir. Awaiting your orders."
"Deploy the weapon once our orbital path crosses over an active volcano."
"The First Armored Reconaissance Battalion has commended itself admirably during the recent campaign. A new technology has been perfected which has allowed us to conclude this war with friendly casualties in the hundreds rather than the thousands. With or without this technology, the individual members of this unit have all performed to the highest expectations of Starfleet. It is with this in mind that I award the First Armored Reconaissance Battalion with the Distinguished Unit Citation," Tarik announced to the assembled ranks of Fleet personnel and Marines. The assembly cheered as newly-promoted Major Vladimir Degataryev stepped forth and accepted the award on behalf of the unit.
"Because of their experience and skill, this unit is to be temporarily disbanded and reassigned to Training Command at Utopia Planitia, Mars. Two of the members of this platoon have shown tremendous skill and courage in the face of a numerically and technologically superior enemy and their achievements are to be recognized. We shall now recognize them along with the rest of those who have received individual honors this day.
"Private First Class Charles Beckham, during the campaign on Rostella IV, helped to rally the remnants of his platoon after the platoon suffered major casualties including the loss of its commanding officer and senior NCO. His courage and determination allowed the platoon to rally at an abandonned Ferengi position and hold out until they were evacuated. For this action, Private Beckham has been awarded the Bronze Star. It should also be noted that Private Beckham has applied for and has accepted an appointment at Starfleet Academy, to commence with the start of the next academic term." Beckham stepped forward and Tarik pinned the award on him. "Thirty days' leave, son. Take care of what you need to and good luck with your future." The two exchanged salutes and Beckham returned to the ranks.
"Second Lieutenant Ryan MacLeod, during the campaign on Rostella IV, assisted in the evacuation of a stranded unit, displaying great aerial prowess as he demonstrated an as-yet untried flight technique in an active combat zone. His success enabled the survivors at Rostella IV to be evacuated. For this action, Lieutenant MacLeod has been awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, and in light of his overall accomplishments since entering Federation service under most unusual circumstances, he is promoted to First Lieutenant."
Ryan stepped forward and accepted the medal. Tarik pinned the new pip on his collar. The two exchanged salutes and Ryan returned to the ranks. Nothing needed to be said between either man. Each knew the look in the other's eyes all too well... and understood.
"During the initial Mulluran invasion of Ferengi space, the medical vessel McCoy was boarded by hostile troops. Captain Jayme Alcon was aboard. Against tremendous odds, Captain Alcon assembled her staff and held off the boarding party until relieved by combat Marines. Captain Alcon's actions resulted in minimal losses to the McCoy's personnel and most importantly to no loss of life to the patients aboard the vessel. For this action, Captain Alcon is awarded the Silver Star and promotion to Major."
Jayme stepped forward and accepted her honors. "Take care of them for me," he said quietly. Jayme nodded and the two exchanged salutes.
"The highest honor the Federation can bestow is the Medal of Valor. It is only awarded in cases of extreme heroism, where an officer or enlisted person has demonstrated courage above and beyond the call of duty. Many of Starfleet's greatest heroes -- names who have reached the history books -- never received this honor. But among you today stands one man who has. During the campaign on Rostella IV, this man took command of a shattered unit and, at times with nothing beyond his bare hands, destroyed over a dozen genetically-engineered attackers. During the evacuation, he risked his own life to save the life of a wounded Marine. It should be noted that his entire career has been filled with such incidents, and a great injustice has been committed upon this man by refusing to recognize his heroism properly in the past. This award can only be for a specific incident, regrettably, but for this incident Staff Sergeant Robert Benson is awarded the Federation Medal of Valor."
Rob stepped forward. "Good luck. I think you'll do well in your new posting," Tarik told him quietly. Benson had been selected as a drill instructor. The two men exchanged salutes and Rob returned to the ranks.
"Now, three cheers for these outstanding Marines!" The customary three cheers were given: "Hip-hip! Hooray!"
"Regrettably, I shall not be with you much longer. As has, no doubt, been circulating among you, I am retiring from Federation service in thirty days' time. It was never my intention to retire so soon, with so much ahead of all of us, but unfortunately fate and war had other ideas. Let me conclude by saying that I am extremely proud of all of you. Whether you were honored today or not, you are all heroes. Wherever you go from here, you can remember that you were attached to something larger than yourselves. You've set free a captive nation, helped a race find its true identity again. If nothing more significant happens in your lives from this point forward, this alone is enough to put your name amongst the stars as heroes. Colonel, dismiss the ranks."
As Colonel Jackson, now commanding the expeditionary force, dismissed the assembly, Tarik turned away from the troops. It hurt like hell to leave...but he would never be able to stay.
"General, over here!" someone called. Tarik turned around.
The entire assembly remained, singing loudly (if not in key or in time) "Halls of Montezuma." After the song was done, everyone broke out in a round of applause.
It was the first time Tarik had wept openly in public.
"Sir, the volcano is in range."
"Deploy the weapon!"
Tarik's shuttle left the Patton on schedule. Not wishing to pull a qualified pilot away to be a taxi driver, Tarik chose to make the trip to the transport home himself.
A K'tinga-class cruiser bearing G'kra markings was in the vicinity. Tarik hailed it, wishing to extend courtesy to its captain.
[Attention Federation shuttlecraft -- you have entered an active battle theater! For your own safety, turn about immediately!]
"Attention G'kra vessel, this is General Tarik. To my knowledge, all hostilities in this area have ceased."
[The war isn't over, Tarik, and you know it!] a G'kra hissed. Something fired from the forward torpedo tube.
"Computer, identify."
[Mark 32 nova bomb, reported missing from wreckage of Starbase 732]
What is that maniac doing? He'll split the planet's crust with that thing!
Without missing a beat, Tarik placed the shuttle on an intercept course with the weapon. "Shuttlecraft Ramon to any Federation units in range -- a G'kra vessel has fired a nova bomb at Mullura! Request immediate assistance to intercept and destroy weapon!"
"Computer, override inertial dampeners."
<Warning. Override of inertial dampeners unauthorized.>
With a chill, Tarik realized that his security clearance was no longer valid. He pulled open an access panel and began pulling out components. There, that ought to do it!
"Computer, plot an collision course with the projectile, maximum impulse!"
The shuttle lurched forward. As Tarik's disease-weakened body passed out with the increasing g-forces, he thought, I finally was able to use my Engineering background to save lives for once...
Refugees near the Mt. Etor volcano on Mullura reported a brilliant flash in the skies as two converging streaks met.
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