Post by Captain_Quintus on Jul 19, 2017 0:43:59 GMT
The dust was settling heavily in the makeshift assembly room, early morning sunlight casting light on the group of council members who had assembled, grumbling, for what now seemed to them an obligatory meeting to try to pacify Starfleet's patent need for control. It was a surprisingly lovely morning for such an ugly conversation. The community representatives had all had this talk, it seemed, many times over.
This was hardly the first time that they had dealt with Starfleet, even if it was the most egregious occasion. How many times over had they struggled to escape the overreaching fingers that complained about crop plantings from the previous harvest, or something as simple as councillor representation? But this was the final straw. It was as if the last hundred years of near independence had evaporated in an instant, and they were left like children that had been only separated from their parents for a few days to play at being an independent world in their own right.
Atton stood in the middle of the hands clasped behind his back, waiting for the representatives to assemble. He could cut the tension with his telepathic knife. As chilly of a reception he'd gotten from the villagers, he'd hoped their leaders would be more...diplomatic. No such hope, but it didn't change what he needed to do.
"Atton Jetrel." One of the leaders, just off center, addressed him in an icy, if not quite frigid, tone. "This meeting is a courtesy to you since you have taken the effort to personally visit the planet. And you appear to have made a... satisfactory impression on certain members of my colleague's settlement." He nodded to the eldest man, seated in the center. "But you must know that our position remains unchanged."
"Well, then if I may ask, why do you want to stay?" Atton looked around them, trying to gauge their thoughts and feelings.
"This is is our home. For us, it always has been. Even for our elders. And we quite simply do not believe that peaceful cooperation with a set of overseers who happen to be a different species will result in the decimations Starfleet has cautioned us against."
Another man spoke, younger and perhaps more timid. "We would rather pay a heavier tribute to Cardassia from our own world than receive Starfleet's blessings on an annual basis."
Atton glanced down, selecting his words. "I wish it were like that." He did his best to sound honest, not patronizing. "Your people might be diverse, but the Cardassians are not. Their 'Union' exists in name only. The only tribute they'll accept is the entirety of you processing whatever resources they want from this world."
An older, maternal woman looked sharply up at him. "At least we'll still be the ones on our world."
"Our world. I understand." Atton smiled weakly. "If this were Betazed...I'd like to think I'd do the same thing. But these days, I'm wondering what life is worth. Wood and stone?" He gestured around them. "Under the yoke of someone else?"
She crossed her arms. "As if Starfleet doesn't have a yoke on us? What happens in thirty years when some new enemy starts encroaching again and we have to abandon the next planet?
"Same thing that is happening now, but there are ways around that.." He answered.
The woman let out a small, derisive sound, but the man to her left finally spoke. The eldest, he had a certain gravity to him in spite of the quiet of his voice. "It should be noted that not one from Starfleet has asked our preferences, however well you know them." The rest murmured assent. "Though you, out of all of your comrades, have come closest." He looked thoughtful. "But what you would ask of us, losing our homes, the bones of our ancestors, and our livelihoods... you cannot imagine what you request."
He stared long and hard at Atton. "Do you?"
Atton’s eyes shifted across them a small frown forming on his lips. "I lost everything I had, my name, who I was twice." His frown grew deeper. "I'm not going to pretend to know you, the lives you've lived. But myself...I found I have a powerful will to live. You'd be surprised how you can change. All of this can be rebuilt. The homes, the cities, your art and culture even. But you can't rebuild this." He placed his hand over his chest. Looking to each and everyone of them.
They were silent for another long minute that dragged onward. "The question we face," the woman finally asked, "is whether we would be the same having lost everything. Are you?"
"No. But you'll survive. I did the first time, and I'm about a week into the second...third life. So I might be slightly biased. But life is always in motion. For everything you're losing, you're getting the chance to gain something.. By living" He looked them over again, nearly pleading. "Your ancestors, they tamed this world. You can do the same."
The central elder leaned back in his chair in deep contemplation, and the rest followed suit. "And how," he asked, thoughtfully, "would you suggest we go about doing so?"
This was hardly the first time that they had dealt with Starfleet, even if it was the most egregious occasion. How many times over had they struggled to escape the overreaching fingers that complained about crop plantings from the previous harvest, or something as simple as councillor representation? But this was the final straw. It was as if the last hundred years of near independence had evaporated in an instant, and they were left like children that had been only separated from their parents for a few days to play at being an independent world in their own right.
Atton stood in the middle of the hands clasped behind his back, waiting for the representatives to assemble. He could cut the tension with his telepathic knife. As chilly of a reception he'd gotten from the villagers, he'd hoped their leaders would be more...diplomatic. No such hope, but it didn't change what he needed to do.
"Atton Jetrel." One of the leaders, just off center, addressed him in an icy, if not quite frigid, tone. "This meeting is a courtesy to you since you have taken the effort to personally visit the planet. And you appear to have made a... satisfactory impression on certain members of my colleague's settlement." He nodded to the eldest man, seated in the center. "But you must know that our position remains unchanged."
"Well, then if I may ask, why do you want to stay?" Atton looked around them, trying to gauge their thoughts and feelings.
"This is is our home. For us, it always has been. Even for our elders. And we quite simply do not believe that peaceful cooperation with a set of overseers who happen to be a different species will result in the decimations Starfleet has cautioned us against."
Another man spoke, younger and perhaps more timid. "We would rather pay a heavier tribute to Cardassia from our own world than receive Starfleet's blessings on an annual basis."
Atton glanced down, selecting his words. "I wish it were like that." He did his best to sound honest, not patronizing. "Your people might be diverse, but the Cardassians are not. Their 'Union' exists in name only. The only tribute they'll accept is the entirety of you processing whatever resources they want from this world."
An older, maternal woman looked sharply up at him. "At least we'll still be the ones on our world."
"Our world. I understand." Atton smiled weakly. "If this were Betazed...I'd like to think I'd do the same thing. But these days, I'm wondering what life is worth. Wood and stone?" He gestured around them. "Under the yoke of someone else?"
She crossed her arms. "As if Starfleet doesn't have a yoke on us? What happens in thirty years when some new enemy starts encroaching again and we have to abandon the next planet?
"Same thing that is happening now, but there are ways around that.." He answered.
The woman let out a small, derisive sound, but the man to her left finally spoke. The eldest, he had a certain gravity to him in spite of the quiet of his voice. "It should be noted that not one from Starfleet has asked our preferences, however well you know them." The rest murmured assent. "Though you, out of all of your comrades, have come closest." He looked thoughtful. "But what you would ask of us, losing our homes, the bones of our ancestors, and our livelihoods... you cannot imagine what you request."
He stared long and hard at Atton. "Do you?"
Atton’s eyes shifted across them a small frown forming on his lips. "I lost everything I had, my name, who I was twice." His frown grew deeper. "I'm not going to pretend to know you, the lives you've lived. But myself...I found I have a powerful will to live. You'd be surprised how you can change. All of this can be rebuilt. The homes, the cities, your art and culture even. But you can't rebuild this." He placed his hand over his chest. Looking to each and everyone of them.
They were silent for another long minute that dragged onward. "The question we face," the woman finally asked, "is whether we would be the same having lost everything. Are you?"
"No. But you'll survive. I did the first time, and I'm about a week into the second...third life. So I might be slightly biased. But life is always in motion. For everything you're losing, you're getting the chance to gain something.. By living" He looked them over again, nearly pleading. "Your ancestors, they tamed this world. You can do the same."
The central elder leaned back in his chair in deep contemplation, and the rest followed suit. "And how," he asked, thoughtfully, "would you suggest we go about doing so?"