An End To Peace

Posted on Fri Sep 5th, 2025 @ 10:49pm by Admiral S'iraa & Lieutenant Commander Victoria Aries & Lieutenant Commander Ferrand Beaulieu

1,604 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Let That Be Your Last
Location: Planetside.
Timeline: Current

Ferrand soared through the skies, gazing at the endless stretches of forests that sprawled beneath him. He had to admit, it was a beautiful sight; nature enveloped him, and even though it concealed the wounds of past conflicts, it did so remarkably well. To maintain fairness, he had dispatched a fighter to each region, ensuring that no nation appeared favored, thus preventing additional complications for the Admiral at the negotiation table. As he piloted his craft over a deep gorge that seemed to have been the site of a crash, he noticed that nature had begun to reclaim the area, though remnants of the incident still lingered.

While he was lost in the breathtaking scenery, his long-range sensors began to fluctuate; he had lost all signals, even his navigational readings had vanished—the Dreadnought was no longer in sight. A quick system check confirmed that everything was operating flawlessly, which was no surprise considering Victoria's expertise. Suddenly, from one end of the gorge, a white streak shot out from an invisible source, and his short-range sensors detected something alarming, triggering a flashing red and orange alert on his display... a radiological alarm. Without hesitation, Ferrand reacted, executing a sharp turn with his fighter to pursue the threat.

"King 1 to command, I have a high-speed radiological platform heading towards the Admiral, moving to intercept." But there was no response. "King 1 to command, are you receiving?"

Ferrand was acutely aware of the high stakes involved; it was a moment of total commitment or nothing at all. He activated his weapons system, but couldn't lock onto the missile, so he switched to manual mode. When he fired, the missile evaded, diving sharply almost to treetop level, but it did so with increased speed. Ferrand was already pushing his engines to the limit just to keep pace, and now he needed even more power. He cranked up the demand further, watching as the gauge crept into the red zone. A warning blared, indicating that the output had exceeded safety limits... he silenced it. He kept engaging but failed to hit his elusive target.

In engineering on the Dreadnought, a flashing subscreen had caught the attention of the Chief Engineer and she brought it to the forefront of her displays. The full squadron of icons came up, but her eyes were only for the one blinking in yellow, the one indicating the overstressed systems of the fighter she'd designed. The signal coming from it showed a spike in the heartrate from the biomedical system installed. "Dreadnought to King 1," She stated as she hit the comm, "King 1, respond, your systems are above the redline."

"Come on... come on, faster damn it," he muttered to himself. "King 1 to Dreadnought, do you copy?" The weapon was pulling away, and it felt like there was nothing he could do to land a shot, even if he desperately tried the phasers a few more times; time was running out, and the distance was increasing. "Computer, reroute all power to the engines, including weapons and life support, disable core safety protocols, and prepare for manual detonation."

With the surge of power, the engines roared to life, propelling Ferrand closer to the missile designed for a singular purpose. The overheat warning glowed brighter with each passing second as the readout soared to 127% of its rated maximum performance. "Come on!!!" The display confirmed he was gaining ground and closing the gap. He could hear the strain on the frame, as even with all the advanced technology, it was still subject to the laws of physics, like the atmospheric drag on a fighter craft flying at such high speeds.

"A little more... COME ON!!!!!"

The yellow blinking changed to crimson and Victoria blanched pale, hands clenching into fists. Structural integrity and engines were already past her design specs, which boded well for the design, but now it was a matter of time before something went wrong. Her heart was in her throat, helpless to do anything.

Ferrand needed to move a bit closer, about 50 meters, when he noticed a section of the weapon detach. A second stage booster had ignited, causing the missile to swiftly pull away once more. For a fleeting moment, he was uncertain of his next move; the seconds felt elongated as every skill, tactic he had trained for, and all his experiences... let him down. He felt powerless, his plan to detonate the core now futile due to the distance. Suddenly, he was jolted back to reality as his engine failed, a sharp and sudden shock coursing through the fighter, and black smoke erupted from the rear. He glanced at his wing, only to see it torn apart, jagged metal edges exposed, with smoke billowing out.

"Noo!!!!!" Ferrand pounded his fist against the console repeatedly. "God damnit...." He activated the communications system once more. "Anyone....someone!!!" Ferrand struggled to maintain control as the craft threatened to veer to the right. He had to utilize the fighter's natural rotation caused by the damage to gain altitude; once in space, he could engage his thrusters and return to the ship. The last sight he had of the weapon was it ascending into the sky on its final ballistic path, now that its pursuer was no longer a danger. Ferrand reengaged the core's safeties and guided his damaged craft towards orbit.

Conference Room - Tri Nation Chambers of Deliberations.

S'iraa was attentively listening to the delegates, once again failing to make any headway and becoming mired in discussions of the past. It was undeniably trying on his nerves, even for a Caitian, and while Caitians are known for their patience, it does take considerable effort to provoke one. He believed this effort was futile, as he sensed that if any progress were made, one of them would inevitably squander it. When he offered an outsider's perspective, he was dismissed simply for being an outsider.

He stood there, contemplating his next move while scanning the room for any clues in body language, posture, or gestures, when he noticed something out the window. A white line extending into the sky, with a faint shadow of black behind it. "Delegates, please...please," he urged, attempting to capture their attention. "What is that?" He pointed towards the window behind Minister Ith'ix.

"What is the meaning of this outrage?" Chancellor Vixothor exclaimed, prompting S'iraa to turn and face him.

"Do you know what that is?" the Caitian inquired.

"What have you done, Ith'ix?" Vixothor demanded. "Firing a weapon, here!"

"Bringing an end to this charade. You speak of peace, yet you were the very cause of the events that necessitated it. You must answer for your actions, for the thousands you have slaughtered, for the families torn apart because of what you and your kind have done. We stood no chance before, but now that has changed."

Vixothor attempted to contact security via the comm, but nothing functioned. Ith'ix retrieved a small device from her robes, one that could easily fit in the palm of her hand. "It took months to build this, piece by piece."

"A jamming device?" S'iraa queried.

"Very perceptive, Admiral," Ith'ix acknowledged.

=^= S'iraa to Dreadnought.=^= he said after tapping his badge.

"It won't help you; your communications device is inoperative," she replied.

S'iraa observed the white streak ascending higher into the sky towards them. "You would condemn me to death in your quest for revenge?" S'iraa asked. "Commit murder..."

"An unfortunate casualty of war," Ith'ix answered, showing no sign of remorse or care for what she saw as a trivial detail.

"For all this time, you have relentlessly pursued the Chancellor regarding his actions, the deeds he has carried out. It is quite ironic that you would engage in similar behavior," S'iraa countered.

"There will be no witnesses remaining to confirm what transpired; we will take the initiative, and the outcome will be markedly different from the previous encounter. We... will bring an end to the war you instigated... General," Ith'ix declared, gesturing towards Vixothor, the one she saw as responsible for the previous conflict.

"There is no need for this, we will all die for your vengeance, many more after this one act." The King spoke, speaking for the first time this session.

"You seem to have overlooked one crucial detail, Minister. My ship is currently in orbit, and it will document everything. Before my departure, I ensured it was set to monitor all activities. The narrative will be shaped by how Starfleet perceives it, and everyone will be aware that you... were the instigator."

A chilling silence enveloped the room, as Ith'ix, in her fervor to hold Vixothor accountable for past actions, had neglected to consider the ship. This realization came far too late as the weapon began its final decent. There was no anger, to have such would serve little use in this moment for S'iraa, he'd lived a full life, one filled with honour and duty, he was proud of his accomplishments. Were S'iraa any other species, he might have smirked, even faintly.

From the vantage point of orbit, a brilliant flash of light could be observed—white, then red, orange, with tinges of yellow, accompanied by a cloud that ascended into the atmosphere. The weapon had detonated at the base of the tower, obliterating everything within several kilometers of the location, extinguishing any hope for peace.

Ferrand's fighter was rocked by the explosion as shockwaves surged through the skies. He was at a loss for how to process his emotions—sorrow, rage, animosity. A mission intended for peace had resulted in the loss of the Admiral, a person sent to assist.

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