[Requested Remove] Warriors & Poets

[Symakhos]

It would be a bold claim to suggest that the Romulan Republic had entirely filled the vacuum of the Romulan Star Empire, but, since the demilitarization of the Rator System, it was more apparent with each passing day.

Subadmiral tr'Vrinak stood in his home office, examining reports from the Klingon-Romulan border. Uncertainty abounded in these times; death, famine, pestilence, war...rebirth, it all swirled together in a poisonous cacophony, he thought to himself. If the Star Empire proper was extant, there would be much movement in the shadow, not unlike that of the Republic, but it would be focused on backstabbing the Klingons (again), and continuing a vicious cycle all to the benefit of the Federation. No, the Republic focused its efforts on being as unknowable as possible within the ever-tightening grip of the Alliance, a grip that was nonetheless easy to slip in & out of, while making friendly overtures to a resurgent Cardassian Union, reorganized Klingon Empire, even the Vulcans to a degree...whoever could keep the Federation in check, that it not overrun all of space-time with hallow platitudes backed up by black-clad automatons. It did not matter what the Disruptor was: it only mattered that they were pointed at the same target.

A cool breeze fluttered through the opened balcony doors, as he looked at a picture of his late wife & estranged daughter. It was time to turn in.

[Symakhos]

The ch'm'R Dathe'anofv-sen pulled into a berth at [REDACTED] Fleetyards, her armor and hardpoints gathering silent appraisals from those observing from approaching shuttlepods and maintenance craft. The Scimitar-class Warbird had been given some external modifications in the past few months, but this was different; the Republic's many spies, throughout what remained of the Star Empire, had reported of a breakthrough: compatibility of Adapted technologies with Singularity-powered systems.

Subadmiral tr'Vrinak, joined by dozens of Engineers, Machinists, and Shipwrights, looked contemplatively at the blueprints that had been forwarded from the field, "A concerning development, surely. What do we know of its capabilities? Does the Collective know about it? Does the Whole?" An Acamarian man wearing a standard-issue Operations jumpsuit, was the first to answer, "Briefly? Yes. A bit more? The Collective likely knows, the Whole knows, and the Tal Shiar seems to have stumbled around in the dark...until now. Now, they are ahead of the Collective, and shielded, as ever, by the Whole. This fusion has been ever sought, since our splintering, by all remnants. I recommend we proceed with caution, sir. We now have a distinct advantage, albeit a tenuous one." tr'Vrinak ran his right hand across the almost-tapestry, "I fear we are nearing a crisis. Our peoples are nearly reunited as one, but as with such unity comes the examination of ourselves. I do not know if we are ready for self-examination, or ready to be guided through such a thing. We do not cast a long shadow, as we once did; this must change." All assembled, Acamarians, Romulans, Remans, Suliban, a few Vulcans, and an xB Garidian, nodded and mumbled in terse agreement. The Subadmiral continued, "Build this...whatever this is. Be cautious, do not let confidence get the better of you. We must be guarded against all peril. I will check in from time to time, but I will not micromanage. You must build her from materials present, from our technologies. I will see to casting our shadow. Dismissed." The various specialists slowly shuffled out of the briefing room, until only the schematics remained; tr'Vrinak rolled the physical copy up, and gently placed it in his left hand.

He left on his personal runabout, shortly thereafter, for the Brea System.

[BLTrrn]

Subadmiral Symakhos tr'Vrinak viewed the PADD in the alcove, one report after the other...Voyager, Conqueror, Crusher, Leeta, each subject worse than the last. He sighed deeply, powered down the flat contraption, slid it back into his airtight knapsack, and continued his pilgrimage across the wastelands of Gol, towards The Gateway. This would be his last check on current events until the end of this journey, and he would only be able to navigate with his senses and defend himself with his personal wit (and Honor Blade). Brea, Acheron, Nopada, Chulan, Acamar, Algorab, Sitor, and a few others not on most starcharts...all leading to this.

He strode onward, one foot in front of the other. The wisewoman suggested four months in the desert, a modification of the Rite of Tal'oth, and he was doing just that.

His pale blue robe sweept the sand behind him, with his bronze-colored mane along for the ride.