Chapter Text
Fitzwilliam Castle
The City of Readington, the Royal Duchy of Fitzwilliam, the Sovereign Realm of Greenwood
The Queen's Private Study
June 15, 2318 (Stardate 140024.74)
Amelia Eleanor Fitzwilliam, the reigning Queen of Greenwood, released an uncharacteristic sigh, her gaze locked onto the digital document sprawled across the large display device atop her desk in her private study at Fitzwilliam Castle. The verbose reports from her government officials were a necessary evil, yet their length and density often tested her patience.
Her eyes narrowed as they traced the lines of the Minister of Defence's report. Dame Jillian Munro’s words held a gravity that etched a deeper frown onto Amelia's regal features. Her left hand moved, activating an internal communication system within the castle walls. Her voice, rich and melodic, echoed through the chamber with her words tinged with the accent of the upper received pronunciation: "Sir Robert."
Within moments, the grand double doors swung open to reveal a hallway stretching far into the castle's heart. A distinguished man stepped inside - his fair complexion framed by silvery hair and complemented by a tailored green waistcoat and crisp white cravat. A walking cane rested at his side as he entered with an air of quiet authority.
"Majesty," he greeted in his distinct and aged tenor brogue, bowing before raising his gaze to meet hers. "How may I serve?"
The Queen gestured towards Dame Jillian's report on her desk with a look of mild disapproval. "I assume you've perused this… request?"
Sir Robert Lennox GCO approached Amelia’s desk, extending a hand for permission to view the document more closely. "May I, ma'am?"
"Of course," she agreed, passing her private secretary the PADD with one hand while indicating a highlighted section with another. "This concerns me."
With a contemplative gaze, he studied the report's contents, his silver eyebrows furrowing in silent deliberation. "Shall I call for your naval advisor, Your Majesty?" he ventured, after absorbing the critical details inked on the digital parchment.
"I would value your perspective first," she invited, her dark eyes seeking his seasoned wisdom.
A shadow of concern crossed his fair features. "I find myself in agreement with the report's predictions. Our territories face increasing peril as our enemy's audacity grows daily," he confided. He carefully set the device on her mahogany desk, keeping a respectful distance instead of passing it directly to her.
Queen Amelia's hands glided over the polished surface of her desk as she rose from her seat. She moved towards an inviting settee nestled in the room's corner. Dressed in a plush dressing gown that enveloped her like a comforting embrace, she sank into the cushioned comfort of the sofa.
In this secluded retreat away from public scrutiny, Queen Amelia savored moments of tranquility within the ancestral estate passed down since Greenwood's founding matriarch; her thrice-great-grandmother and first monarch—Queen Victoria Edwina Fitzwilliam. The castle was a testament to that first generation's best architectural offerings, gifted to their pioneering then-Duchess by the colony’s initial settlers.
Quietly trailing behind his queen, Sir Robert maintained an attentive vigilance. He stood erect and patient at a respectful distance as he awaited her next words.
"Summon Sir Tracy for a consultation," Queen Amelia commanded after a thoughtful silence, referring to the naval advisor he offered earlier. "Following that, arrange to meet the Prime Minister, the Minister of Defence, and the First Naval Lord." She paused, her gaze distant. "The Chancellor of the Exchequer will undoubtedly want to discuss the financial implications."
He failed to suppress his wry grin before bowing. "Am I correct in assuming your acceptance of their proposal?"
"Unless Sir Tracy presents a viable alternative," she responded, resignation shadowing her features. "It appears my hands are tied." Then, her voice tightened with playful reprimand as she added, "And Robert, do endeavour to erase that mischievous smile from your face."
"My sincere apologies, ma’am," he responded, a playful flicker dancing in his eyes. "I shall call upon the commodore, directly."
"Thank you," she said, giving him a small smile of her own.
The Queen exited via a smaller adjoining door leading to her private quarters. She had no intention of receiving company in nothing but her sleepwear.
"Starfleet?" Queen Amelia queried, her dark eyes narrowing in thought as she reclined in the antique armchair of her castle's drawing room. This grand chamber, once a favourite haunt of her late father for entertaining dignitaries and esteemed guests, was now hers to command. Across the expanse of a small polished mahogany coffee table sat Sir Tracy, his posture rigid within the confines of his Royal Navy uniform. "The Federation's presence is seldom felt within our borders. What could possibly motivate them to extend their aid to us?"
With a subtle lean forward, Commodore Sir Tracy Newby KCV RN she noticed that his light chestnut fringe cascaded over his furrowed brow. "The annals of history, your Majesty, reveal that the Federation Council has extended Starfleet's aid to us many times. This assistance arrived in the form of swift military operations or humanitarian relief efforts," he said, his voice echoing with authority. "My predecessor, Dame Rowena, archived contingency plans endorsed by both your father and grandmother."
Queen Amelia's eyes flickered with surprise as she absorbed the commodore's detailed briefing. "Even in the recent century?"
A curt nod from Sir Tracy confirmed her query. "Precisely, ma'am. The last instance dates back to the late 2260s during a widespread outbreak of ethylene flu." He paused for effect before continuing. "A formidable Starfleet task force arrived, comprised of four starships and an additional twenty-seven support vessels, including three fully-equipped hospital ships."
He concluded with a note of reverence in his tone. "King Edward bestowed knighthoods upon the admiral and chief medical officer leading the task force, along with several doctors who worked with the Crown during that crisis."
"When has Starfleet ever lent us military support?"
Sir Tracy paused, sifting through the information on his PADD as he recalled from memory, "Their starship Challenger made first contact, or perhaps we could call it a restoration of contact, in 2158. But, that was nothing more than a single ship on an exploration mission. Seven years later, the Federation dispatched a squadron of five starships during the First Kzinti War. Your esteemed great-great-grandmother, Queen Eleanor, granted them permission to establish a temporary base within our star system." With a flourish, he held up his PADD to display the historical deployment. "It was one vessel of that flotilla, Atlantis, that stumbled upon dilithium deposits during an initial sweep-"
With a dismissive wave of her hand and an impatient glance at the glowing display, she cut him off. "The discovery of our dilithium resources I'm aware of, Sir Tracy," she interjected before he could delve further into his impromptu history lesson. "However, in scenarios devoid of humanitarian considerations or without strategic advantage for the Federation's operations, how probable is it that they would rally to our defense?"
"Indeed, the likelihood is high, Your Majesty. Likely for the reasons you've outlined in terms of the Federation's interests. After all, they rely on our dilithium as a power source for their starships just as we do. Their fleet outnumbers ours, making our ore indispensable to them," he explained further. "Moreover, the historical ties between the Federation and the Realm cannot be overlooked. We owe our existence to one of their esteemed admirals. And given Queen Victoria's connection to the early days of our intertwined history, Greenwood holds a unique fascination for Starfleet. The name 'Victoria Fitzwilliam' resonates with reverence among both our peoples."
Queen Amelia was well-versed in her family's illustrious history; however, she indulged Sir Tracy's penchant for slipping into his professorial mode from his days as a tenured Royal Naval Academy instructor. She saw it as an opportunity to glean more insights from his vast knowledge base. "Quite so," she concurred with his assessment, maintaining her regal composure while absorbing his words.
The drawing-room door echoed with a trio of authoritative raps before it swung open, revealing the imposing figure of Sir Robert. "I beg your pardon for the interruption, Your Majesty," he intoned, his Edinburgh accent resonating in the hushed room. "Prime Minister Isley has arrived along with the Minister of Defence and the First Naval Lord; they await your audience."
At this announcement, Sir Tracy rose from his plush armchair. "Would you prefer if I retire to the library, Your Majesty?" His inquiry hung in the air.
"No need for that," Queen Amelia responded smoothly, her gaze steady on Commodore Newby. "Your insights could prove valuable should our guests prove reticent." She then shifted her attention back to her trusted advisor, Sir Robert. With a slight nod of acknowledgment, she instructed him in a subdued yet firm manner, "Escort them in."
The Prime Minister of the Sovereign Realm of Greenwood, Lawrence Isley, led the procession into the room. Dame Jillian Munro and Admiral Sir Joseph Harney KCO RN, the fifteenth Earl of Dundonald, followed closely behind him into the room, projecting an air of solemnity that matched their esteemed positions in Her Majesty's Government and Royal Navy. At their entrance, Commodore Newby rose from his seat—a gesture of respect toward the powerful triumvirate now gracing the royal drawing room.
The Prime Minister, a towering figure of authority, bent in a reverential bow. He delicately held the Queen's extended hand, pressing his lips to the back with an air of deep respect. "Your Majesty," he intoned, his voice resonating through the room like the echo of a cathedral bell.
"Prime Minister," she responded warmly, her smile brightening her regal countenance. "Please, I insist everyone take their seats."
Sir Tracy, ever mindful of courtly etiquette, moved with deliberate grace towards the chair furthest from the Queen. This action paved the way for the Prime Minister to claim the seat nearest to Her Majesty—an unspoken honor among Greenwood's elite. In this orchestrated dance of deference and propriety, Dame Jillian and Sir Joseph found their places nearby—their presence adding another layer to this tableau of prestige.
"Your Majesty," Dame Jillian offered a respectful bow, which the Queen acknowledged with a subtle nod.
The Queen's gaze then shifted to Sir Joseph. "Always a delight to have you in our midst, my Lord of Dundonald." An acknowledgement of Sir Tracy's presence followed her words.
The Prime Minister's response came without delay. "Indeed, Your Majesty," he said, his eyes darting towards the commodore not once but twice. A fleeting twitch of his right eye betrayed his annoyance at the unexpected presence. "I had envisioned this discussion shrouded in confidentiality and tact."
The Queen's retort was swift and unyielding. "This meeting unfolds under my auspices, Prime Minister, not yours. Sir Tracy stands as my counsel on naval matters. His advice is invaluable and for him to provide it effectively, he requires full disclosure. Pray proceed."
Her assertive stance seemed to unsettle Isley as he stumbled over his words in response - "Yes... well... I gather we are here regarding Dame Jillian's proposed defense measures?"
"Among other matters," the Queen replied coolly. "My apprehensions lie with the proposed additional spending; it leans precariously upon dilithium futures for my comfort."
Dame Jillian's lips curled into a strained smile. "Your Majesty, without the expansion of our Royal Navy, our future might be in jeopardy." Sir Tracy cringed at her words, acutely aware of the misstep she'd taken in this critical dialogue.
Queen Amelia's gaze hardened as it fell upon Dame Jillian. Her brow furrowed in a frown. "I am not a journalist seeking sensational headlines nor is this a philosophical debate. Reserve such speculative pondering for more suitable occasions."
The Prime Minister intervened, raising his hand towards his Defence Minister while offering a placating grin to the Queen. "My apologies, Your Majesty. We will strive to articulate our points with greater clarity henceforth. Dame Jillian, perhaps you could illuminate us with the specifics?"
"Certainly," Dame Jillian replied, a blush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. Surprised by the Queen's stern inquiry, she hastily rummaged through her valise, seeking the written evidence to bolster her suggested defense strategy. "As outlined in my proposal, I emphasized the necessity of enlarging our naval forces. With the successful recruitment campaign, we've seen an unprecedented surge in personnel tempo. At the First Naval Lord's behest, we have made offers to and hired several retired members of the Federation Starfleet to augment our officer corps."
"Am I to understand that my Government did not anticipate this influx?"
Dame Jillian was quick to allay her concerns. "Not in the slightest, Your Majesty. Our objective is to ensure we have seasoned space-faring professionals mentoring the next generation of sailors."
"And these ex-Starfleet officers have pledged allegiance as citizens?"
"Quite so," Sir Joseph interjected gently. "The Navy appreciates their expertise and insights. We've adapted our deployments accordingly and have reaped considerable benefits. However..."
The Prime Minister picked up where the admiral's words had fallen silent. "The fleet's repositioning, coupled with our vigorous enlistment campaign, has left us with an abundance of trained sailors but a deficiency of berths to harness their skills. It is fortuitous that, given our enemy's audacious incursion into our sovereign space, the urgency for new constructions aligns with both optimal utilization and national defence."
"Fortuitous that our territory is under siege?"
"Er, ma'am... I did not intend to—"
"I'm well aware of your intentions, Prime Minister," the Queen interjected smoothly. She turned her attention to another member of her council. "Dame Jillian," she began in her regal tone, "your plan suggests building twenty fresh starships within a year's span. Such an endeavor would strain our production capabilities, both surface and orbital, would it not?"
The Defence Minister gave a measured nod. "Indeed, Your Majesty. Every iota of production would need to be redirected towards shipbuilding for approximately thirteen months - plus or minus a fortnight."
"Such a course of action appears ill-advised," Queen Amelia expressed, her gaze fixed on her folded hands. "Seizing control of all facilities might destabilize the need for civilian or consumer-grade spacecraft. I fear this might precipitate industrial and economic complications."
"We welcome such discourse with the various industries when the time arises," responded the Prime Minister, his tone firm yet respectful. "We are confident that this proposal's implementation would necessitate a workforce that should appease the unions while simultaneously invoking their patriotic spirit to aid us in safeguarding the Realm."
Amelia tilted her head, a touch of nonchalance concealing her deep concern. "Pray tell, how do you propose to protect my Realm before these starships are operational?" she queried. "Especially given the Navy's alleged deficiencies."
With unvarnished honesty, Sir Joseph addressed the Queen's concerns. "Your Majesty, our current fleet is more than capable of safeguarding the Realm and its territories. Yet, we must not merely consider today's needs but also anticipate tomorrow's challenges. By this time next year, after a rigorous period of expedited assembly, we'll be in the midst of testing and refining our first batch of newly minted starships. Not long thereafter, these vessels will take their place on the front lines."
The Queen, ever pragmatic in her approach to matters of state, posed her next question with straightforward simplicity. "And should our adversaries become increasingly audacious in their attempts to seize control of our dilithium mines within that timeframe?"
"Rest assured, Ma'am," Sir Joseph vowed with unwavering resolve, "the Royal Navy stands ready to confront such aggression directly. Admiralty House shall redeploy to provide adequate protection to our holdings throughout the system."
Queen Amelia's lips pressed into a firm line, her displeasure evident as the First Naval Lord continued to spout clichéd reassurances. Her gaze shifted towards the commodore stationed at the far end of the assembly, acknowledging his previous suggestion. "Sir Tracy," she began, her tone laced with authority and resolve, "put forth an intriguing proposal. He suggested we leverage our infrequent and modest alliance with the Federation. We could request a provisional fleet of starships to bolster our Royal Navy's strength." A pause for effect, then she added, "Under the guise of a cooperative training initiative and cultural exchange, his notion is to utilize their resources for a period of no less than eighteen months."
A fleeting smirk ghosted across Sir Joseph's stern features, yet he held his silence. The Prime Minister, however, recoiled at the Queen's proposition. "Your Majesty," he protested, "I believe inviting Starfleet might be a hasty decision."
Her brow arched in question. "Why?"
"An eighteen-month joint exercise is implausible," Dame Jillian stated with a note of skepticism. "I find it hard to believe that the Federation would consent to such an extended commitment of Starfleet's resources."
The Queen's lips curved into a smile. "Is the duration your only concern? The inconvenience?"
"No, Your Majesty. I am confident in our ability to uphold the Realm's defence without requiring aid from a foreign power," the Prime Minister interjected firmly. "Not to mention, the positioning of the Federation in a conflict with our enemy."
"Our enemy was once their enemy as well," reminded the Queen softly. "If they should conquer the Realm, I would imagine that would have some impact on other nearby Federation systems such as Arbazan. We're far closer to the enemy's territory, obviously, but if we offered the Federation a long-term option in strategic positioning, it would be more advantageous for a response should the enemy forces decide to strike while the iron is hot, so to speak. Conquer us, then turn their eyes to Arbazan."
"Majesty," Isley said, his consternation made clear through a deeply furrowed brow. "It would be damaging to the pride of the nation to rely upon the Federation for aid."
"You speak of pride, Prime Minister. You would hold the balance of the nation's future against pride?" Queen Amelia queried, her voice ringing with authority. "And the lives of my subjects as well?" Isley, caught off-guard by the intensity of her questioning, parted his lips to retort, but found himself faltering at her subsequent inquiry. "I thought not," she concluded, her tone laced with a touch of satisfaction.
She called out, "Sir Robert?" The corners of her mouth lifted in a subtle grin as she reveled in her political triumph. "Would you be so kind as to extend an invitation to the Federation Ambassador to the Palace this evening? Include the Prime Minister and the Minister of State."
Upon the conclusion of their discourse, the pair of civilian leaders vacated the castle with uncharacteristic urgency. Sir Joseph, seizing Commodore Newby's attention, ushered him into the crisp embrace of mid-morning, a setting more conducive to confidential discussions.
Once they were comfortably isolated, Sir Tracy took the risk to say, "My lord?"
"Excellent work, my friend," Sir Joseph commended, his voice awash with elation. After collecting himself, he expanded further in a more controlled manner. "I wouldn't dare propose reaching out to the Federation myself. The Prime Minister staked his political future on the autonomy of the Realm during his campaign. However, considering the escalating onslaughts on Sovereign territories, it's hardly the time for vainglory and self-importance."
A knowing smile played on Sir Tracy's lips. "It's a pleasure to assist. Queen Amelia is known for her discerning mind, she has but a scant tolerance for unnecessary grandeur or pompousness."
As the military vehicle of Sir Joseph rumbled into sight, bearing the proud insignia of the Royal Navy, he gestured towards it, alerting his companion to the impending end of their conversation. "Quite so! That's the robust Fitzwilliam lineage shining through," affirmed the First Naval Lord with a note of admiration in his voice. "Now, I must hasten to Admiralty House and set in motion our collaboration for a 'joint exercise' with Starfleet's elite forces."