Opening Ceremonies, Part 1

Posted on Sat Oct 11th, 2025 @ 4:50pm by Captain Philippe Auvray & Lieutenant JG Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil & Sub-Lieutenant Osirin Acainus & Captain Remy Johansen & Major Clay McEntyre III & Lieutenant Xalanth & Lieutenant JG Jezra Siv MD & Commander Irene Seya & Civillian Samuel Wynters
Edited on on Tue Oct 21st, 2025 @ 1:49am

1,674 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Peril at the Unification Accords
Location: Barisa Prime Conference Center
Timeline: MD 08: 1600 Hours

The conference room was overflowing with participants to the accords and with guests, additional onlookers had trickled in, standing in the back as Ambassador T’Varel finished her opening remarks. She wore traditional Vulcan robes, shades of aubergine and blue that subtly highlighted her stately beauty. Her presence on the stage exuded a striking balance of hope and optimism while maintaining a steady posture rooted in logic and resolve. The scent of freshly baked bread and something sweet began to waft into the conference hall as servers began to lay out dishes for the following reception, but all attention was on T’Varel - she had managed to captivate her audience, drawing others in.

“...And though war once divided the Romulan and Vulcan people, we share in the bonds of heritage and history. It is only logical that those once bound as a people should not remain divided by the errors of conflict.”

“... As we move into the next few days of this conference and especially as we break bread together tonight, let us remember that there is strength in Unity.”

T’Varel punctuated her final remarks by stepping back from the podium and looking out into the crowd one last time. Commander Irene Seya waited for her just off stage as one of the masters of ceremonies moved to dismiss the crowd to the reception.

“Excellent speech, Ambassador,” Irene said, as the Ambassador stepped backstage.

T’Varel dismissed the compliment with a wave of her hand. “Just words at this juncture. It is up to the Leaders, the People to incite action. Am I able to join the others at the reception?” T’Varel asked.

“Soon,” Irene promised. “Security just needs to get the crowd where they need to be, and get everyone settled into place. Let’s get you back to the Staging Suite to wait.”

M'Tret stood a few paces behind Ambassador T'Varel--close enough to intervene, far enough not to intrude. The stage lights caught a faint sliver in his dark hair, an indication that he may not be as young as he sometimes carried himself. His hands were clasped neatly behind his back, fingers still, his posture a clinic in patience.

He watched the crowd ripple at her words, eyes tracking movements rather than faces. Every subtle shift: a diplomat leaning to whisper, a server moving against the grain of the room, a Starfleet hand adjusting a combadge. These were small things that often meant nothing. However, sometimes they could mean everything.

As Commander Seya allowed the Ambassador to pass, M'Tret nodded a silent acknowledgment to her.

"Security corridors remain sealed," he said quietly, tone as even as a calibrated metronome. "Crowd dispersal as anticipated. No anomalous reports from the teams on the upper mezzanine. Please accompany the Ambassador to the Staging Suite. I would like to make a sweep of the perimeter on my own."

"Understood. Of course, sir," Irene responded before turning to the Ambassador and leading her back toward the suite.

Valik was on the outskirts of the crowd, watching the Ambassasor leave the stage with an unimpressed scowl. He hated the performative nature of these events. The nerve to talk about unity while using her position to sentence refugees to purgatory, unable to seek protection and unable to return home. It was a blatant disregard for what was actually happening that drove people to seek asylum. His distaste in the ceremony was only amplified after T'Varel effectively ended their meeting a month ago with the Vulcan equivalent of a 'go fuck yourself.'

At least, that's what it felt like.

Glancing to the security officer who requested that he move, the Romulan obliged with a simple nod of his head. He adjusted the sleeves of his tunic, a blue-green only chosen to make it easier to blend into the crowd. Valik remained on the outskirts, his calculating eyes subtly keeping track of which exits were closest. Years of training forced that habit, but if one more Ferengi offered him some tasteless Vulcan delicacy, he was going straight for one of those exits. His chat with the Ambassador could happen another time. For now, he meandered around the crowd, a glass in hand that he only held for appearances.

Xalanth kept his eyes peeled as he looked around the room. His formal uniform had never seemed to fit properly, though the light body armour he had on under seemed to help it cling to his frame. A buzz came in his ear as the first security team sent the first of the guests through. Time to go to work.

Standing just behind the Ambassador, the large looming form of Major Clay McEntyre. For the occasion he would his service dress uniform but had his duty belt and phaser on and at the ready in its holster. He scanned the crowd ahead, a large group of dignitaries and ambassadors gathered for this peace conference from across the Federation.

“McEntyre to Xalanth, let’s go to work. We’re on our way.” Clay tapped his communicator and spoke to his counterpart.

" Roger." Xalanth replied as he looked over his officers to help guide the guests to their areas.

A commline opened.

[Dorsainvil to Xalanth,] came the voice of the Haitian security officer.

"Xalanth here." The lizard replied calmly still scanning the room with his eyes.

The voice of the Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil piped through clearly. [Beta shift is ending shortly and I'm about to go off-duty. Anything specific you'd like me to take of before I do?]

"Have your replacement stay on open comms. We're moving the Ambassador now, Shouldn't be too much longer," the security chief replied.

---

The dining hall was extravagant and had been staged to accommodate well over 100 guests. Two bars flanked the hall, buffet tables held various appetizers for individuals to serve themselves, though well-dressed servers walked through the crowd carrying trays of finger foods and champagne.

Captain Johansen smiled at a Ferengi server and took a flute of Champagne, mainly to have something to do with her hands as she mingled with the crowd. She scanned the area first to see who from her crew might have come down for opening ceremonies.

Samuel stepped up, gently touching Remy's left elbow. He was dressed in a fitted black suit that looked like waa made only for his build. He smiled softly at her as he whispered. "I hope i didn't miss all of the festivities, my love," he whispered into her left ear.

Remy was started at first, but relaxed as she heard Sam's voice in her ear. "I wasn't sure you'd be coming down. Ambassador T'Varel just finished her speech. You're just in time for food."

The El Aurian grins warmly as he moves to gently rest his left hand against Remy's uniform-covered back. "Then it seems I arrived just in time," he grins playfully. He then looks Remy in the eyes as he whispers, "Have i ever told you how hot i think a woman in uniform is? I cant wait to get you back to your quarters and peel it off of you."

"Try and behave," Remy responded with a giggle as a flush rose to her cheeks. "I've got some schmoozing to do. Let's go."

Osirin was feeling back to his old self when he stepped into the conference room. He was juggling two relationships with the possibility of losing both if he dropped the ball. But, what else was new? The important thing was whatever had been interfering with his mental shielding in the Expanse was done.

The emotions of all the people in the room were muted and deep in the background.

He was dressed in his Akadian dress uniform, which was a deep maroon with subtle purple stripping.

Captain Philippe Auvray stood at the center of a half-circle of diplomats, the chandelier's light catching the gold trim of his dress uniform so much that it gleamed like a gaudy stage costume. He had a flute of champagne balanced lightly in one hand, using the other to make sweeping motions as if he were guiding an orchestra.

"Mes amis," he said, leaning closer, "I tell you, it was nothing but smoke and mirrors. A beard! A beard no more real than the bubbles in this glass. But you should have seen their faces--the Nyberrite commodore, a man built solid like a granite wall, suddenly convinced Jean Valjean himself had come to haunt him. They wheeled their cruisers about like frightened swans. Voilà--peace restored, without firing a shot."

The delegates laughed, some politely, others freely, their eyes glowing with drink and thrilled at being in the proximity of such a grand tale being told by such an illustrative man. Auvray drank from his glass only after they had finished, letting the pause become his encore.

~tbc~

Captain Remira Johansen (also as T'Varel)
Commanding Officer
USS Astrea


Lieutenant Xalanth
Chief Security Officer
USS Astrea


Lieutenant J.G. Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil (also as Auvray)
Assistant Chief Security Officer
USS Astrea


Lieutenant J.G. Jezra Siv (as Valik)
Chief Medical Officer
USS Astrea


Sub-Lieutenant Osirin Acaincus
Mission Advisor
USS Astrea


Major Clay McEntyre III
Marine Commanding Officer
USS Astrea


Commander Maxun Spello (as Sam Wynters)
First Officer
USS Astrea

 

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