Vulcan Council Log || “Entropy” || Councillor V’Les

Posted on 241510.21 @ 8:51am by Councillor V'Les

Mission: Reconciliation & Reconstruction [Fleet Plot]
Location: Vulcan
Timeline: current

“We've been looking for the enemy for some time now. We've finally found him. We're surrounded. That simplifies things.”
- Chesty Puller at Chosin Reservoir



[Council Chambers, Shi’Kahr, Vulcan]

“Nam-tor wugauk. Ki’tev-tor Sa’vak”
“Dan-ripadonrumik.”
“Ved kriv.”
They were Vulcans. As such, the phrase “I told him this was a bad idea” would have never left their lips. Nor would they ever care to show aught but composure and carefully restrained grief; for even the mildest indication of “I hate being right” would have been in extraordinarily bad taste.
It was there all the same. It floated on the gold and copper afternoon light; it was in the carefully steepled fingers, it was in the grave, dignified expressions. Along with ‘Now what?’ and a fair measure of ‘Not again’. And, as V’Les noted with no small amount of vexation to which she would admit when Nevasa’s light turned purple, much of the ‘Now what’ seemed directed towards her.

“Has there been any word on the Praetor?”
“None.”
They were Vulcans. They neither sighed nor rubbed their brows, and they most certainly would not ever consider smashing a fist into the table while resurrecting some savage colorful idioms of their hearthworld’s fiery past. Not only because it wouldn’t help and was therefore quite illogical and useless, but because they were too busy thinking.
There was of course no point in suffering consequences before they befall, yet it was quite simply daft to not consider possible outcomes of a situation. The carefully neutral expressions around her told V’Les that all the amassed intellect in the room could not conceive of a favorable outcome to … this.

So be it.
“The Yel-halitra has issued an alert. I propose the Council advise the f’rel-barr to stand down, and that a period of mourning be-”
“The Guardians are not on alert, Madam. And may I point out that-”
“I am well aware my function here is as an advisor only, Varek.” V’Les did not appreciate being interrupted, and it was a breach of decorum in any case. But her sharp, grey-green gaze latched on to the insolent male not because his manners required mending. Saros had not put the Guardians on alert?
“Confirm the status of the V’Ket.”
It was the Minister of Defense herself who answered, an unhurried hand reaching for the garnet holographic letters floating serenely before her above the gleaming table’s surface “V’Ket forces within Eridani system remain at f’nosh yon-kur.” At T’Kosa’s touch, the graceful script began to spin gently and small sub-screens fizzled to life before the other council members “There have been minor changes to patrol schedules due to seasonal solar flare activity, and Ni’Var was dispatched to render assistance to a Bajoran freighter which experienced impulse drive failure.”

V’Les was Vulcan. As such, she would be damned before a grim, satisfied smile would reach her lips, but it was in her eyes all the same. “Noted.”
It seemed the Grand Admiral had put his proverbial boot down, and since it was a light desert boot more often than not, had managed the feat without fuss. Status red. What meant mayhem on a Starfleet vessel was not quite the same for a green-blooded species who associated that colour with T’Khut’s warm glow and the embers of a hearth fire.

“Is this wise?” of course it was cautious old T’Reni who would ask.
“Perhaps not.” Minister Syvar’s face was one humans would have expected to see in a Buddhist temple, and indeed if he’d only hold still long enough, and perhaps folded his legs in a lotus position, sooner or later one might be along and haul him off to one such to be placed upon a small pedestal and dusted regularly. “However, it is logical.”

“To leave the system vulnerable, o’pid`shikh-ornasu? May I point out that if the Sundered intend to strike, the Yel-Halitra is in no position to stop them, nor send aid in time to prevent disaster?”
“Indeed.” Supple musician’s fingers folded under his chin, Syvar turned his heavy lidded gaze to rest on the agitated Varek “Yet Vulcan is grieving the dead of London, o’shikh-ornasu. All of them.”
Gravelly with age, and as calm as it was quiet, the old Vulcan’s voice nonetheless put a halt to the discussion as surely as a roll of thunder.

V’Les exhaled a soft breath. Since the Minister of State and the Grand Admiral were in accord, there might be no need for her carefully prepared argument. One by one, heads around the table inclined slightly in acceptance, though certainly not agreement in all cases.
Either old Syvar knew somewhat they did not, and was willing to stake the planet’s safety on it; or he was willing to take a calculated risk to make a quiet, yet poignant statement. Knowing him, either was possible, so V’Les wasted no more than three point six seconds on calculating probabilities.

T’Kosa seemed among those less convinced, yet she had obviously already decided to choose her battles. Hardly surprising “Have we any news of the Rihannsu Fleet which the Agency has … misplaced?”
Menos wasn’t one to raise as much as zero point one centimeter of brow at the suggestion V’Shar might keep Romulan Warbirds in a drawer and then inexplicably fail to find them again. He merely gave a brief headshake “Negative. And unless this Council sees fit to authorize more … proactive means, the Agency has stated the ships are like to remain … misplaced … until the Sundered decide to reveal them again.”
Swell.
Of course they didn’t say it, but T’Kosa’s dark eyes turning towards the ceiling spelled it rather clearly. The fact said gaze lingered however, told V’Les that chains of logic formed in the elder lady’s mind; names, strategies and ship movements playing out in a soundless game of galactic 4D chess.
“Surely the Director has provided an analysis?”
“He has. However considering the volatile elements involved, he has proven reluctant to provide a probability assessment.”

If there is one thing that can put a serious dent in a Vulcan’s day, it’s having to play guessing games. When even the Agency threw up their proverbial hands and declared themselves unwilling to chase untamed waterfowl, or rather Warbirds, …
“Perhaps we should authorize-”
Menos’ disapproving stare at the excitedly chirping screen in front of him had of course no effect on it, however his touch caused garnet letters to scroll upwards at an alarming rate.
“It would appear the Yel-Halitra has located the misplaced fleet. Their trajectory-”
“Tlingan’stuk.” T’Kosa’s eyes were still fixed upon the patterns of light on the ceiling, her hands loosely folded on the table, but evidently the chess game playing out behind her unreadable mien had reached a critical juncture.
If Menos was surprised, or had any thoughts on this little bit of rudeness, he concealed it well. “Yes.”

They were Vulcans. As such, they pointedly refrained from groaning, or expressing their opinion of Klingons or the Sundered in any way other than subtle headshakes and perhaps a raised brow or two.
And although the situation very much appealed to the Vulcan sense of humor (oft thought non-existent, yet merely so fine and laconic in nature that it tends to go unmarked by most other species), they also found it quite unnecessary to state the obvious: that when one stomps into a raptor’s nest, one will soon be able to fight in the shade.
And least of all would they admit to the brutal logic of this, or the cunning elegance of what had obviously been planned well in advance. All the same, V’Les noticed a flicker of “Blast it, I should have seen this coming” in the Minister of Defense’s dark eyes.

“Recommendations.” Syvar’s deep baritone dropped into the silence, eliciting a row of blank stares which this time owed little to Vulcan stoicism and a great deal to ‘I got nothing’.
“Yeht’aya eh`kriv.” Unsurprised, the old Vulcan nodded; once more evoking the image of a tranquil Buddha contemplating the mysteries of the universe in V’Les’ mind. One might think the Sundered could choose to parade through the Council Chambers riding le-matya, and he’d favor them with the same mild gaze as he did the assembled Vulcans in the room. “Madam V’Les, if you will inform the Federation Council Vulcan stands ready to provide diplomatic assistance if required. V’Shar, I am certain, shall be pleased to share their tactical analysis which is undoubtedly already in progress.”

Not that a Vulcan would be so nonchalant as to wave his fingers in a distracted gesture of affirmation while staring intently at floating crimson letters; but Menos certainly made a reasonable effort towards such an impression.
And because they were Vulcans, there was no fanfare or superfluous words, such as ‘very well then’ or ‘this meeting is adjourned’. Only a few terse nods and the rustling of robes before the elegant, high-ceilinged room high above Shi’Kahr fell silent; and the late afternoon light illuminated a lone figure a dark tunic rearranging holographic ruby and garnet symbols with deft motions. A pantomime played out with no audience but silent Nevasa, letters resembling musical notes dancing and glowing, moved and betimes dismissed by a silent maestro.
“T`Rehu.”
Vulcans don’t sigh. At least, not most of the time. But when they know themselves to be all alone, they just may speak a name like a curse. Or maybe with a bit of grudging admiration.


~

V’Les
Federation councilor


Vulcan Planetary Council:

Syvar
Minister of State

T’Kosa
Minister of Defense

Menos
Minister of Security

T’Reni
Varek
Council members

~~~~~~~

Yel-halitra – Starfleet

o’pid`shikh-ornasu – Honored-Eldest (Highest) -Minister (polite address for Vulcan Minister of State)

The Sundered (Sadahshsu) – The Romulans

Yeht’aya eh`kriv – The Vulcan equivalent of “Well; and so”. More literally an abbreviated ‘The facts of the situation are acknowledges as such’