He had to admit, there were worse places to deal with the Dominion's lackeys. Commander Kor Aresh, commanding officer of CMV<span style="font-style: italic">Intrepid</span>took in the sights of the Altair Nebula as he made his way to his vessel's conference room. Outside, swirls of purple and gold gases and dust danced in the multicolored starlight of the Yarat Sector--a hologenic vista that would take away the breath of even the most seasoned spacer. Aresh's armored boots thudded dully on the frigate floor, his gait that of one who has spent most of his life in zero- and low-G. He wore the traditional military garments of the Confed officer cadre: a black armorweave tunic with simple golden epaulettes marked with his rank insignia, along with similarly arrayed pantaloons and boots. A bloodstripe ran diagonally from his right shoulder to his left hip, the sole battle honor he ever deigned to wear in his time as a shipmaster, awarded in a campaign that happened years and years ago.<br/><br/>Aresh briefly slowed his stride to give a passing crewman a nod of greeting before entering the<span style="font-style: italic">Intrepid's</span>conference room. Standing within were a number of holograms. As one, they turned to greet him as he stepped into the broadcaster field.<br/><br/>'Commander Aresh,' rumbled a Terran in ambassadorial dress, 'good day to you.'<br/><br/>'Likewise, Wordsmith,' Aresh responded, standing at attention. 'My apologies for my lateness. Seems these old bones can't walk as quickly as they used to.'<br/><br/>'No matter,' said the Terran, his visor awash with soft greens and blues--the colors of placation, in the Terrans' parlance. 'Now that we are all assembled, we may commence this summit.'<br/><br/>Aresh stood quietly as the roll call was taken. Many of those present were his fellow Confed shipmasters, all of whom likely stood within their own ships' conference chambers as well. One was Admiral Tesh'k La'r'o, the 108th's overall commander and the moderator for the discussion to come. Half of those present were not Confed at all. They were Dominion ambassadors, here to broker terms of settlement within Neutral Zone 1138, one of the currently unsettled border areas between CAS and Dominion space. The tension was so thick Aresh could cut it with a vibroblade.<br/><br/>Cold War tensions were at their peak, no doubt thanks to the arms and settlement race between the two powers. Aresh silently hoped that both parties would maintain their decorum and tact, but he knew it would devolve into yet another ineffectual shouting match, such as the predictability of these sorts of proceedings. And then the proximity alarms sounded.<br/><br/>Aresh muted himself and opened a comm channel to the bridge. 'Commander to bridge. What's set off the alarms?'<br/><br/>'Unknown signatures, sir,' said his first mate, the mechanical Terran tones distinguishable even through the low quality of the channel. 'I've already ordered the crew to battle stations.'<br/><br/>'Very good, Mister Four-Zero. Stand by. I'm on my way.' He closed the channel and returned to the conference, offering a hasty apology before departing. He reached the bridge soon after, taking his place at the captain's chair. He reached behind his head, plugging in a datajack into the seat's neural link port. The cold rush of data infeed filled his head as diagnostic, targeting, and sensor readings ran down his retinal implants' display. A ceiling-mounted hololith lit up, projecting a sphere of light dotted with myriad icons. A large blue dot marked the space station on which the conference occurred, surrounded by a defensive sphere of the 108th's cruisers, while hundreds of kilometers away, dozens of small frigate groups were arranged in a looser, larger sphere. Several large yellow dots--designated as unknowns under standard battlesphere settings--were rapidly closing in on the blue dots marking<span style="font-style: italic">Intrepid's</span>position.<br/><br/>Aresh grimaced. Next to the battlesphere, four holographic faces manifested, bearing the likenesses of the frigate shipmasters under his direct command. 'My young devils,' Aresh said, 'we have multiple unknowns on our sensors. Assemble on the coordinates being uploaded to your navigators now and ready your weapon crews.'<br/><br/>'Pirates, sir?' asked one of the captains, a Ch'tarr named Lieutenant Ak'ch'arr.<br/><br/>'Possibly. They're too far out for us to tell at this time,' Aresh responded. 'The nebula's particulates are playing hell with our long-range sensors. Regardless, I want all of you on full combat readiness.<br/><br/>Aresh turned to his comm officer. 'Hail the unknowns.'<br/><br/>'Aye, sir,' she said before turning to her instrument panel. 'Attention unknown vessels, you have trespassed upon Confederate space. Please come to a full halt and identify yourselves. If you do not do so within one minute, you will be fired upon.'<br/><br/>Aresh noted on his datafeed that the vessels had entered short scanning range. The leader bore the shape and size of a Dominion Grand Cruiser, while its escorts revealed themselves to be a flotilla of frigates of varying design. Another hologram appeared, this time displaying someone most definitely not from Confed. It was a Urem warrior bearing the markings of a captain, bearing a lopsided, white-toothed grin, which looked all the more unsettling given his hairless dark gray skin.<br/><br/>'Ah, Khur-Commander. It has been so long, yes? While you retain your rank, I have been promoted since our last meeting.'<br/><br/>'Tagore,' Aresh rumbled. 'We were not expecting Dominion warships. Explain yourself.'<br/><br/>Captain Tagore of the Urem Dominion kept up his predatory smile. 'Be at ease, Aresh. We are merely here to ensure the well-being of our diplomats. So tell me, old friend. What new things have you learned to kill?'