Avoiding the Shards, Part 1: Secure the Principal

Posted on Mon Oct 20th, 2025 @ 1:34am by Captain Philippe Auvray & Captain Remy Johansen & Commander Maxun Spello & Lieutenant Commander Eirly Andersen & Major Clay McEntyre III & Lieutenant Xalanth & Lieutenant JG Jezra Siv MD
Edited on on Tue Oct 21st, 2025 @ 1:58am

1,611 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Peril at the Unification Accords
Location: Barisa Prime Conference Center
Timeline: MD 08, 1735, (immediately following The Shattering Hour)

[McEntyre to Astrea, Emergency. We need medics on my location!] He called to the ship before he tapped his commbadge again.

[McEntyre to all security forces, we have an AOP, i repeat we have an Attack on Principal. Move to alert status one and secure your principals, now. Xalanth, Secure the Captain and XO.]

Those around the Vulcan Ambassador T'Varel had seen her collapse into a lifeless form on the floor as she went to join the dinner.

"On it." Xalanth yelled as he sent an alert to all of his team to put them on high alert. Sprinting next to the captain and XO he brought up his wrist-mounted shield, bringing up the small portable shield. "Let's move," he said calmly his eyes darting around the room for the perpetrator.

Remy wasn't a fan of being handled, but she understood that her Security Chief was doing his job, and that in this crowd any protest would only make his job harder, so she followed him obediently gesturing for Sam to follow. "Captain Auvray, you should come with us," she stated looking squarely at the French captain before turning back to Xalanth.

"Do we know what happened?" She asked.

Auvray froze mid-step, flute of champagne still in hand, and blinked at the sudden chaos as though the reception hall had shifted into some other dimension while he wasn't looking. The polished crowd, the warm lights of the chandeliers, the polite murmurs--all gone. Completely replaced by the biting snap of urgency, voices clear and clipped with protocol, the odour of fear that no hors-d'oeuvre or flower arrangement could hope to mask.

"Mon dieu," he muttered under his breath. He realized at that moment, he had absently placed a hand on his chest, though he knew not why. It was as though his usual ability to paint with words had abandoned him in this moment.

He looked down at T'Varel sprawled on the wooden floor, aubergine robes pooling around her like a flower under a storm, and in that moment he saw nothing but near-stillness. Then reality returned in shards--the rushing feet, the armoured forms, the commands that rose above whispers.

Captain Auvray turned to Remy, finally. "As you wish," he said, his eyes following Major McEntyre and Lieutenant Xalanth as they sprung into action. "I suggest we allow your officers and marines to take charge."

"Priority is getting you out of here, Captain." Xalanth barked, his free hand drawing his phaser. "Let's move." He added his eyes still scanning the crew.

Auvray motioned with one hand to the exit. "By all means, mon cher lézard."

Remy's eyes narrowed at the Captain's strange way of addressing Xalanth, but determined that if she were to address it at all it would be later. There was too much chaos in the room at the moment.

Remy tapped her comm badge as they moved, [Captain to Astrea, we need Central Command Security Protocol Alpha. McEntyre and Xalanth are boots on the ground, get Dorsainvil and Fulvia on this immediately. Either Spello or I will be to the Bridge shortly. Acknowledge.]

She barely heard the chirp followed by the sound of her second officer acknowledging the orders through the sounds of the crowd as they began to sense that something had happened.

Valik's expression remained neutral with exception of his lips pressing together slightly. A PsyOp years ago had him learn some of Starfleet's procedures, so he knew what was coming. This would not be a good look for him. Muttering something about "gonna be sick" for those nearby, the Romulan subtly manoeuvred through the crowd, depositing his completely untouched drink on a table. While moving, he saw that the exits were now blocked off. He had to give credit where it was due, Starfleet was efficient. Their procedures did an excellent job of making him feel claustrophobic. Boxed in. Instinct drove him to move with the crowd until there was a window to slip away into one of the several nooks in the reception hall. Once obscured from view, Valik quickly pulled out his communicator and initiated a call.

Fortunately, one of the crew wasn't just a Starfleet officer. His eyes had long adjusted to noticing the tiniest details on the desert planes of his home world. His yellow eyes darted to a movement that caught his eye, one that oddly stood out among the panicked crowd. He yelled, letting one of his men take his place on the protection detail for the captain as he pushed forward through the crowd, sending the suspect's detail to security. Following the suspect down the nook, he called out. " Odd time for a call."

Remy wasn't sure what Xalanth saw, but she knew he had seen something, so she cut through the crowd behind him, following carefully.

Captain Auvray stood for a moment longer than the situation called for, watching as Xalanth and Remy cut through the churning crowd. His mind caught up a moment later--security had fanned-out, phasers drawn, their movements smooth and coordinated like a ballet. For all his theatrical bluster, Auvray was no fool. He knew when the stage had shifted from comedy to tragedy. He straightened his jacket, and began to move toward the Captain Johansen's wake, his expression suddenly grave, almost noble. He turned to look behind him for a half-second, but when he looked again to find Remy and Xalanth, they were gone--swallowed-up by the crowd.

Like some wild streak through the confusion, Vice-Proconsul Rethel moved closer Auvray. Her robes brushed against the shoulders of panicked dignitaries and yet no one seemed to register her passing. She had watched as T'Varel had collapsed as well as medical personnel tending to her before transporting away. Her charge already secured, she was now attempting to reach ground-zero in hope of seeing the reception hall from the epicenter of the event.

"Captain Auvray," she said softly. "You should not be standing so exposed. Find your way to the nearest exit."

The Frenchman blinked and nodded, her words cutting through his daze. He looked to his right and could see Starfleet marines blocking an exit with a dozen or so partygoers assembled before them. Having decided to heed Rethel's words, he made his way toward the marines.

"MAKE A HOLE!!" Clay's booming voice cut through the room as his marines try to move the crowd.

Before the two Captains could make their next moves, a large form in Marine armor deftly maneuvered his way into a position that kept them both from getting very far. The move was almost too graceful for such a large figure, but such was the way of many Caitians.

"Sirs, We're going to try to get you to the transporter decks and back to Astrea until we can secure the site. Hopefully get things back on track within a few hours." Clay said as he turned to speak with Remy and Auvray.

"I'll have my Marines and Xalanth's security forces do a complete sweep of the building for anything suspicious and clear the galley in case this was intentional."

Remy looked over her shoulder at where Xalanth appeared to have cornered someone and then back to the Major and sighed in acquiescence. "Very well, Major. Lieutenant Xalanth was in pursuit of someone. I was on my way to back him up. We should send someone."

Auvray's eyes flashed with irritation, though he didn't allow it to wrinkle the rest of his expression. He adjusted his cuffs, exhaled slowly, and regarded the Caitian marine Major with weary diplomacy.

"Majeur," he began, his tone half-courtesy, half-rebuke, "there is no need to beam me off the premises like a frightened guest. I am not porcelain, nor am I in the habit of fleeing a room. I would prefer to return to the security suite upstairs."

“With respect sir, Security protocol is clear on this matter. Astrea is a secure fallback site in case of emergency.” Clay spoke clearly and with authority.

“If you’ll follow my marine, he’ll escort you.” Clay said to Auvray before turning again to Remy.

“I’ll back him up, Captain.” Clay nodded.

"Keep me updated," Remy stated quickly before dismissing the marine commander. "I'll be in touch from the Bridge."

"Captain, you won't mind if my first officer joins you in the security suite?" Remy asked as the two were ushered quickly out of the no-transport zone by a young marine. "I should get back to my ship, but I can patch in from there - keep you apprised of the developing situation."

Auvray let himself be guided toward the stairwell, though every step felt like an additional insult to his pride. The young marine beside him was enormous--barely older than twenty, perhaps, with an earnest posture and drawn phaser. His eyes were everywhere.

"I assure you, mon garçon," Auvray murmured, "I am perfectly capable of walking to a suite without armed accompaniment. But since you insist, I shall play the part of the fragile captain."

The marine didn't answer--likely he was trained not to. Only nodded once and gestured for Auvray to keep moving.

The climb up the stairs was banded with the detritus of panic: a broken champagne flute, a woman's heeled shoe abandoned halfway up a flight of steps, a napkin speckled with red wine that looked far darker in the emergency lighting. As they ascended, the noise below became a dull roar.

Once Remy had cleared the no transport field surrounding the conference center she tapped her commbadge and called the Astrea. Soon thereafter she disappeared into shimmering energy, rematerializing in Transporter Room 3.

~tbc~

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