Emerald Hands, Golden Chains

Posted on 25 Sep 2025 @ 1:45am by Captain Sabrina Corbin

1,698 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Fractured Accord
Location: Vethari Combine

*** Vethari Combine – Aurix Spire, Executive Council Chamber ***

Emerald light filtered through the crystalline ribs of the chamber ceiling, scattering prisms across the gilded floor. The Aurix Spire had been designed to awe outsiders, but it also served to remind every director present that they sat beneath centuries of accumulated wealth. The air itself carried a faint tang of polished stone and machine oils, recycled to perfection. Sound was hushed by the angled walls, save for the occasional chime of a datapad like a distant bell. Coin was law here, and law was profit.

Each director was an ornament of that philosophy. Robes and jackets glistened with threads of platinum, cuffs heavy with cut gemstones. Their attire was not vanity but a weaponized signal of wealth displayed as dominance. Every flick of silk, every glint of emerald crest, carried meaning in the silent negotiations between corporations. At the far end, above a crescent table trimmed in gold, loomed the insignia of the Combine: a golden coin balanced against emerald scales, a spiral of stars curling across both.

The Chairman of the Combine adjusted the lapel of his brocade jacket, then raised a hand. The chamber doors sealed with a hiss, and conversation fell into silence.

Director Selira of Varros Interstellar Holdings rose first, her voice cold and sharp as cut crystal. “The Newton has been pulled into uncontrolled warp. Our nanotech seed performed as predicted. The convoy scatters to pursue, their escorts bleeding time and cohesion. As for the asteroid field, the signatures remain convincing. Starfleet sensors will waste hours chasing ghosts.”

A ripple of dry laughter circled the chamber.

Director Velex of Velex Mineral Group leaned back, smile precise. “A wild goose chase. Elegant. Residues seeded to mimic demolition scatter, sensor echoes planted to drag their attention. Every wasted minute is profit for us. And Captain Corbin, steady though she is, will not risk leaving her vessel unaccounted. She will follow, as intended.”

Director Korrin of the Korrin Defense Syndicate snorted, leaning forward with his fists on the table. “It was neat work, yes. But don’t grow smug. Every ruse has an expiration date. If they peel back the pattern too quickly, we risk more than delay; we risk exposure.”

“Caution is your trade,” Velex said smoothly, “but time is mine. And they are already behind the clock.”

The Chairman’s eyes narrowed, calculating. “The hook took. The question now is what fish we mean to land.”

The holo at the chamber’s center shifted into focus: Tavrik III, half-formed. Wisps of cloud curled unevenly across its pale sky. Terraforming arrays sparkled in orbit, their long spines glinting like needles. Processor towers scarred the ground below in harsh geometric grids. From space, the planet resembled a wound half-stitched, seas forming in teal patches, barren rock still raw and gray beside them.

Korrin rose again, his voice clipped and businesslike. “There is no mystery in Tavrik. Sarium krellide veins lie beneath shallow seas and brittle shelves. Warp core energizers depend on it. Yet the Federation wastes resources stabilizing an atmosphere that could be strip-mined for immediate return.” Mineral overlays lit across the holo: bright gold lines tracing through fractured shelves, glimmering with opportunity. “Science projects and blue skies do not fill ledgers. Ore does.”

The Chairman leaned forward, emerald and gold scales glinting on his breastplate. “Make no mistake. This is not about charity or curiosity. It is the Federation’s attempt to turn Tavrik into a foothold. Stabilize the planet, and regulation follows. Customs, tariffs, safety boards. Our contracts will collapse under their law. Profit dies when stability takes root.”
Selira of Varros allowed a sly smile. “Then the root must never take. Tavrik must remain contested, unsettled… and profitable.”

The holo widened, zooming out into a starfield dotted with emerald markers. Velex gestured toward it, his tone clinical. “Neither the Combine nor the Kaldari Union are confined to Tavrik. We hold shipping corridors, depots, and salvage rights scattered across the boundary. The Union binds eight founding colonies into mutual defense. Harsh colonies, austere domes, military drills beneath thin skies, lives bound by scarcity. If the Federation stabilizes Tavrik, it becomes their beachhead. Today, a processor tower on Tavrik. Tomorrow, an outpost at the Kaldari frontier. The day after, tariffs on every lane we touch. This is a regional fight. We are not defending one planet, we are defending the frontier from Federation creep.”

An aide approached with quiet urgency, offering a datapad. The Chairman scanned its contents, then cast the message onto the central display. The seal of Epsilon Fleet filled the chamber, followed by the words of the latest fleet-wide advisory, signed under Admiral Sidra MacLaren’s authority:

“Effective immediately, all Epsilon Fleet commands are to exercise extreme caution in dealings with vessels or technology traced to the Verathi Combine. Until further notice, captains are to treat Verathi activity as an active threat to fleet security and frontier stability. Engagements should be approached with heightened vigilance and without assumption of good faith. This directive remains in force until rescinded.”

The executives stirred, silk whispering, jewels glinting as eyes hardened. Korrin’s hand curled into a fist. “So. A declaration. She has turned suspicion into doctrine. Every Federation captain will treat our ships as hostile on sight.”

Velex’s smile returned like a knife sliding free of its sheath. “Predictable. When she cannot curtail our contracts, she brands us a danger. A bureaucrat’s hammer, striking where markets outpace her fleets.”

Selira tilted her head, amusement glinting in her eyes. “The Union will not be surprised. They have always seen us as a counterbalance. But to the colonists? This may cause hesitation. If Starfleet captains grow twitchy at every Combine hull, smaller settlements may fear being caught in the crossfire.”

The Chairman tapped his signet ring against the table, the sharp sound silencing the chamber. “The danger lies not in their captains, but in the perception this advisory creates. Colonists who rely on our credits, our stabilizers, our escorts, they may now fear reprisals. Sidra MacLaren seeks to poison our legitimacy. That cannot stand.”

Korrin’s voice rumbled. “She has given her captains license to fire.”

“No,” the Chairman corrected, his tone surgical. “She has given them license to hesitate. And hesitation in commerce is death.”

Velex leaned forward, tone smooth. “Then we answer with optics. Not in shadow, not in secrecy. We flood Tavrik with our aid. We make our presence indispensable. We show colonists that Federation caution starves them while Combine efficiency feeds them.”

Selira nodded. “A public statement, circulated on every Tavrik channel, denying her words and countering them with evidence of our deeds. We will not rage, we will not threaten, we will invite. A lifeline draped in emerald and gold.”
The Chairman’s gaze swept the table, sharp as a scalpel. “Then let it be drafted. By the time Corbin hauls her weary convoy back to Tavrik, the colonists will already have read our response. Let her captains read suspicion in their advisories. The colonists will read gratitude in their domes.”

The holo returned to Tavrik III, mineral overlays glowing brighter. Korrin continued with clipped precision. “Extraction windows are narrow. Terraforming alters pressures and tides. If we seize supply now, we hold the warp lanes hostage. Forward contracts, exclusivity clauses, collateralized credits. Whether prices rise or fall, every energizer touches our ledgers.”

Selira projected her datapad’s draft white-papers into the holo’s orbit: warnings of processor instability, atmospheric cascades, orbital misalignments. The text scrolled in sterile academic fonts, stamped with neutral seals. “Not falsehoods. Possibilities. And possibilities are all the Kaldari require to amplify their suspicions. They will become our echo chamber, their distrust magnifying our narrative.”

Velex finished the list like a bookkeeper closing a ledger. “Deploy branded stabilizers, ship temporary generators, clog oversight with claims, and have our cutters broadcast Kaldari transponder codes while they shadow our freighters. To Starfleet, it will look like Kaldari activity. If they act, they risk sparking a Union incident; if they don’t, our routes stay open.”
Korrin’s laugh was low and cruel. “Corbin must pick her poison: a diplomatic crisis with the Union, or let our escorts operate freely. Either way, she loses.”

The Chairman’s smile thinned. “MacLaren may brand us an active threat, but the frontier will see us differently. Tavrik’s colonists do not breathe advisories. They breathe the air our stabilizers maintain. They eat from shipments our escorts deliver. That is legitimacy. That is leverage.”

He rose, robes whispering across the marble floor, emerald light glinting across the coin-and-scales sigil behind him. His shadow stretched long across the polished stone as his voice carried final authority. “No more explosions. Such things waste coin and risk unity. Contracts and corridors will bleed them more surely than torpedoes. Tavrik is not to be the seed of Federation expansion. It will be the purse of the Combine. And through it, the frontier itself will remain ours.”

As datapads chimed and seals blinked into place, Selira of Varros lingered, already drafting the communique for distribution across Tavrik’s channels. Its language was sharp yet soothing, mercantile yet magnanimous.

The Vethari Combine acknowledges recent Federation advisories regarding our operations. We reject the characterization of our vessels and technology as a threat. The Combine has long been a lifeline to frontier colonies. We provide food, stabilizers, and medical relief where bureaucracy falters. We extend credit when families need it most. We safeguard trade against raiders. While the Federation issues warnings, we act. Let colonists judge us by results, not rhetoric. The Combine remains committed to prosperity, stability, and free exchange across the Tavrik frontier.

She read the words once, lips curling into a satisfied smile. With a few strokes, she refined the phrasing further, softening harsher terms into promises, wrapping economic leverage in the silk of benevolence. When Admiral MacLaren’s advisory reached Tavrik, this message would already be waiting. Colonists would see emerald crests on the shipments arriving at their domes, not Starfleet warships. Let the Federation’s captains choke on caution. The colonies would see only open hands, gilded and generous.

*** End ***

 

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