Hawkeye Island

Task Force 86

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Feeling Quite Presidential

Posted on Sun Aug 23rd, 2020 @ 2:55pm by Ralcif Quilles

Mission: Welcome Back
Location: Raeya 3, Dtyaal Chambers
Timeline: Several Months Ago

In a corridor outside of the Dytaal chambers, stood 2 guards. Dressed in standard dark jungle green Raeyan Guard uniforms, they stood on either side of a large, wide steel door, split down the middle, rising nearly to the ceiling of the tall corridor. Geometric shapes were engraved into the steel in patterns that would please any 'left brain' thinkers. Large pane windows on one side of the hallway let in plenty of natural Raeyan light. The opposite wall held frames with displays inside that would fade from one important figure's portrait to another, showing the generations of Raeyan officials whom worked behind those large steel doors.

The guards stood at their posts, phaser rifles in their hands. Guard number 1 was fidgeting with his weapon, trying to make time pass. "An emergency session, huh? Wonder what's going on in there?" He said aloud, his voice echoing slightly.

The second guard stood straight and true, the only movement he made was his eyes scanning the corridor up to the end where it terminated into a T-junction.

Guard 1 popped the power cell hatch open on his weapon, examined it quickly, and pushed it back. He power cycled the rifle and spoke again, "My old man doesn't like these challenges by Mo’Kai ships. Glad we're putting a fleet in space. What about you?"

Guard 2 continued to stand silently.

"When was the last time you went to the range?" Guard 1 asked to no one in particular, as he lifted and pushed his rifle into his shoulder. He aimed at the shiny, off-white floor, practicing proper trigger discipline. "I shot ninety-three percent yesterday. Not my record, but not bad I guess."

Guard 2 didn't react or move in any way.

"I've got two more weeks on this rotation, how about yo--" Guard 1 was interrupted by the sudden sound of seals and locks popping and sliding in the large doors. He snapped back at attention, and the large blast doors started to slowly slide apart, with a deep mechanical sound of gears churning and the doors rolling apart. Before the doors were even halfway open, an entourage of Raeyans walked through with a steadfast purpose. The opening was already large enough where each one of the baker's dozen could have walked through side-by-side, but they were all grouped together, with the most important man in the middle.

All their footsteps clicked loudly on the white marble floor, reverberating through the corridor. However, their footsteps weren't nearly loud enough to drown out their conversations. "How do you want the statement to read to the public?" Asked an aide.

"Truthful," Ralcif replied. "Tell the citizens that with the threat from this Romulan factions, and Klingon separatists looking for easy conquests, we asked the Federation back." His voice was somewhat deep, slightly nasally, but President Ralcif spoke clear, enunciating each syllable crisply from his practiced voice. The bottom of his brown blazer wafted behind his back like a cape in keeping with the group's quick pace.

The aide who asked began tapping notes on her tablet. Another aide, a much older woman commented, "People aren't going to like this."

With a sigh from his nose, and without altering their pace, Ralcif Quilles said, "As proud as I am of our people's progress with the new Star Navy, we're still no match for this type of engagement." The group reached the T-junction. The flooring changed to carpet and they took a right together. "And they will engage. We can't face them down alone. We need the Federation. We need their Starfleet." The older woman nodded, seemingly satisfied with the President's response. Brushing some of his blond hair out of his eyes, Ralcif pointed to a young man, the one in the sharpest suit in the entourage. "Tell the Sharans to get whomever their puppet of a Prime Minister is to move the squatters out of Hawkeye," the President said forcefully. "Quietly."


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Standing on the roof on the concave side of the tallest building of the former, but soon to be current again, Starfleet command building, Ralcif looked down at the courtyard below, his hands supporting him on the pony wall, spread apart wide. The mid morning sun cast shadows over most of the courtyard of the two curved buildings, with one of the twin skyscrapers being noticeable shorter than the other. Even from a couple dozen stories up, Ralcif could see the overgrown landscaping, and the gentle ocean breeze pushing dust and light debris along the unkempt courtyard. Several weeks had passed since that Dtyaal Council session where the vote passed by a slim margin to invite the Federation back. Turning his attention upward, looking at the Raeyan sky toward something specific, yet at nothing in particular, that breeze blew his shoulder length hair into his eyes. Pulling it away, he could begin to make out dots in the distance, rapidly making their way toward the island and growing ever larger and more detailed. The first wave Starfleet landing craft were making their way to various points around the island.

Ralcif's most trusted aide, a grown and distinguished man, yet still half the President's age, approached from behind. "Sir, I have the files on the new base commander and ambassador."

Standing up straight, Ralcif took the tablet. He scrolled through it quickly, intending to thoroughly read it later. A Bajoran woman, a newly minted general, was to head up this old and aging reactivated Starfleet installation. Interesting, Ralcif thought, that they would put someone who's species had a history not too dissimilar to the Raeyans in command. The ambassador, a human man, Ralcif could only hope he would be as entertaining as that old Starfleet friend of his, from all those years ago. Doubtful, he thought to himself.

"All right," the President said, "I'm ready. At your discretion."

The aide stretched his left arm out, revealing a wrist mounted device underneath the cuff of his shirt. With a couple of quick taps, he said Quilles, "Initiating now." After a moment, the President and his aide were basked the orange glow of a Raeyan transporter beam.

 

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