Secrets and Surprises: When Politics Collide with Command

Posted on 2025, Sat Jul 19th, @ 11:37pm by Fleet Admiral Pat Lovell & President Cornelius Moss

769 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Episode 1B "Shadow of the Past"
Location: Federation Council Chambers, Earth – Private Conference Room
Timeline: Hours after the Romulan Free State’s Federation membership was announced

The door to the private conference room nearly exploded off its hinges as Fleet Admiral Pat Lovell stormed inside, his boots pounding like warning drums on the polished floor. His face was a mask of barely controlled fury, eyes flashing with disbelief. He looked like he’d just swallowed a live plasma eel — and wasn’t enjoying it.

President Cornelius Moss, standing near the panoramic window overlooking the twinkling lights of Earth’s nightscape, barely flinched. He sipped a glass of synthetic tea, the picture of calm, as if dealing with an angry admiral was just a Tuesday afternoon distraction.

Lovell snarled, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Really, Cornelius? You just drop a goddamn atomic bomb on the Federation Council and don’t think to mention it to your Fleet Admiral? The Commander-in-Chief, for crying out loud! Are you running the Federation or a damn circus act?”

Moss set down his glass slowly, eyes narrowing but voice smooth. “Pat, you’re angry. I get it. But this wasn’t a press release on a whim. We were walking a diplomatic tightrope over a pit of Tal Shiar vipers and Section 31 landmines. Secrecy was non-negotiable.”

Lovell took a deep breath and then let loose like a torrent. “Non-negotiable? You mean ‘non-consulted’? What am I supposed to do with that? Wave a flag and hope the Halo hears us? Because right now, our best damn ship and her crew are missing in a universe that makes the Badlands look like a day spa!”

He stalked to the window, fists clenched, then spun back to Moss with a wry grin. “Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Halo’s crew are watching this on some weird Mirror Universe holo, laughing their asses off at how we got out-negotiated by a political handshake.”

Moss cracked a faint smile. “You’ve always had a flair for the dramatic, Pat. But this was the Council’s decision, ratified by unanimous vote. The Romulan Free State isn’t just an ally—they’re full members now. This changes the game. Borders secure, reinforcements incoming, new tech sharing, and yes… cloak-and-dagger stuff that makes your tactical heart sing.”

Lovell scoffed, rubbing his temples. “New tech, huh? Great. Now we have to worry about Romulan technology in the hands of factions we don’t control. You remember those ‘loyal dissidents’ you mentioned? Yeah, they’re still out there, and last I checked, cloaking devices don’t come with a ‘friendly user’ sticker.”

He glanced around the room as if daring the walls to object. “And you know what the best part is? I get to field the questions from every captain in the quadrant who’s gonna ask, ‘Hey, Fleet Admiral, why wasn’t my CO briefed on this monumental shift?’”

Moss shrugged. “Sometimes leadership means making decisions your admirals don’t like. Believe me, it wasn’t easy. But we needed to act fast — and discreetly.”

Lovell’s grin turned sardonic. “Well, congratulations, Mr. President. You’ve officially made ‘discreet’ the Federation’s new unofficial motto. ‘Secrets and Surprises.’ Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me the Klingons have a knitting club in Deep Space Nine.”

They both chuckled, the tension momentarily broken.

Then Lovell straightened, eyes sharp again. “Look, I get it. This could be a turning point for peace. But right now, my focus is on getting the Halo back—our people back. Until then, this secret alliance feels less like a win and more like we’re juggling live plasmas and hoping nobody gets burned.”

Moss nodded solemnly. “I promise, Pat, you’ll have my full support in the recovery effort. And when Reacher returns, we’ll answer every question he has—starting with why he was left in the dark too.”

Lovell exhaled deeply, running a hand through his graying hair. “Fine. But if I see one more diplomatic memo signed without my name on it, I’m sending a bottle of synthehol to the Council—with a note that says: ‘Next time, invite the Fleet Admiral, or send someone who actually knows what they’re doing.’”

They shared a brief laugh before Lovell turned toward the door.

“Alright, Mr. President. I’ll leave you to your tea and secret handshakes. But just so you know… next time you want to rewrite the galaxy, give me a damn heads up.”

With a last pointed glance, Lovell exited, the echo of his footsteps lingering like a warning.

Moss stood by the window, watching the stars. The galaxy had just shifted beneath his feet—and no one could predict the fallout.

RSS Feed