The Final Frontier

Posted on Fri Nov 21st, 2025 @ 3:52am by Rear Admiral Veegg & Commodore Wilkan Targaryen

1,000 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Madre
Location: Ready Room, U.S.S. Enterprise
Timeline: 2439-07-04, 17:00

Rear Admiral Veegg, Commanding Officer of Project Longshot, stood opposite of Commodore Targaryen with his arms crossed and a stern look on his face. It wasn't a bad look for him, which was probably why it was his default look - especially when interacting with Commodore Targaryen. The Rear Admiral had a rugged, if not weathered look with a strong jawline, that Wilkan's own wife had often described as being a mix of charm and "badass" grit. His salt-and-pepper hair was short and ran into his beard, giving him a weathered or grizzled look. While he had an athletic build, his height was only average, but his uniform hugged his body to accentuate his strength. It was almost like he'd picked a uniform a size too small to highlight his old-fashioned rawness and grit, rather than a polished, Starfleet aesthetic.

"Mind telling me again why you saw fit to relocate them?" The Zaldan asked with a sharpness in his voice.

Sitting behind his desk, Wilkan Targaryen shifted in his chair at the question, "I've already explained it. The alien life-form, Tchema, had been in contact with, first, my ship's Counselor, and later the Chief Engineer. It expressed to us that it wanted our help to remove the beings living inside of it, which we learned later were the Vorta."

Veegg sighed, "So, in other words, you let a space jellyfish tell you to move a group of people that belong to the Dominion's second most important race without their consent?"

"I followed Starfleet protocols related to a sentient being asking for our assistance, if that's what you're asking," Wilkan corrected.

"And directly intervened where you shouldn't have! You're lucky that I'm not charging you with violating the Prime Directive with this stunt," the Rear Admiral replied.

Targaryen looked puzzled, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but the Prime Directive doesn't exactly apply here. The Vorta weren't native to Tchema, they were the descendants of the survivors of a doomed expedition. We restored them to their natural evolution, and responded to Tchema's distress call. Nothing more."

Veegg sighed, "And who the Hell are you to decide the next course of evolution for these Vorta? As far as I'm concerned, you've betrayed the very principles upon which the Federation was founded with this little stunt of yours. You're risking the Federation's entire future with the Dominion because a creature that we don't even know for sure if it was sentient asked you to. You probably killed those Vorta, just like so many others were destroyed in every other forced relocation throughout history."

"Admiral," Wilkan interjected, "I'm sorry that you feel that way, but the Enterprise was responding to a distress call. In a way, we were actually responding to two, only one call was lost in the sands of time."

The Rear Admiral interrupted, "Semantics."

"Fact," this time Wilkan interrupted. "The Vorta were never meant to be on Tchema, it was a shipwreck, and the Vorta themselves confirmed that very fact for us. Their ancestors would have called for help, only it never came. Instead, we came generations later and rescued their children's children. My crew and I have found them a new home, far from Tchema, and the chances of the Dominion taking offense to that are slim."

"Slim is not nonexistent. If the Dominion find them and trace the materials back to us, then they'll be livid. You could bring this whole alliance down because you didn't take them back to the Dominion," the Project Manager countered.

The Enterprise's Commander shrugged, "I suppose you could argue it's a price for peace, then."

The Zaldan Admiral shook his head, "Your price may be far too high. You know you're lucky though. Not many people have the Commander in Chief for a father to protect them."

"That's low, even for you," Wilkan protested.

"If not a fact. You and I both know that if I bring you up on any charges your father will just make arrangements for them to go away. It's how you got here anyway. He promoted Captain sh'Ijhossaa to get you back into that chair, he'd probably drum me out of the service or get me reassigned to some backwater base for even challenging you," Veegg diatribed as he paced around the room.

Targaryen shook his head, "If you're saying I don't deserve the Enterprise you have another thing coming, Admiral. I've proven that I deserve to be in this seat more than once, Hell, I was helping save the galaxy before your father even hit puberty. It's not my fault that you like to sit in the shadows of the greats because all you know how to do is play it safe, Admiral. You're only here right now because your cronies in the fleet thought it would be nice to have a token Zaldan sitting in a big chair. Too bad you weren't ready for it, but they knew that because that makes you someone that they can control."

"I'm ordering you return the Vorta to Kurill Prime, all of them - including that girl in your Sickbay, Commodore. Then proceed to the Gavara Sector to continue with your survey mission. You can file a protest if you want, but it'll fall on deaf ears. This is my show, Commodore, and you will do as you're told or I will find someone to command the Enterprise that can handle following orders, Daddy be damned." In the wink of an eye Rear Admiral Veegg was gone, the communications channel that brought him to the Enterprise closed.

Wilkan chuckled. It looked like Loatha was right, he really did have a habit of striking a nerve. Too bad that the Admiral didn't give him a timeline for when to deliver the Vorta back to their people, and he really didn't feel like antagonizing the Dominion. That was the Admiral's priority after all.

The Enterprise's Commanding Officer tapped his communicator, "Bridge, this is the captain, maintain course, steady as she goes, please."

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