A/N: Oh hey, another chapter, you can give credit to NaNoWriMo writing. Thanks for the faves and follows, it means a lot. Still don't expect consistent updates from this, but it's the thought that counts.

Trinity Station. A meeting place constructed by the Trader Emergency Coalition in the third phase of the war, after the battle lines had solidified and the powers were growing weary of war, before they were wracked by civil war and internal dissent. It had been built in what could ostensibly be claimed to be neutral territory, and provided a spot for the three powers to congregate and talk, to try and work out peace.

But now it was turned to a much different purpose. Representatives from the various factions had gathered here to discuss a major crisis, purported to threaten all of them. One could easily say that Trinity Station was one of the most defended places in the known galaxy, with three fleets arranged outside.

In the end though, the three fleets made only a backdrop to the drama taking place inside the station. Shuttles had docked only recently, and now the representatives that had been summoned for this meeting sat in the pre-arranged conference room, ready to begin.

First, there was Director General Jean-Claude Bonaventura. He was a middle aged man, slight stubble, well dressed, black hair streaked with grey, he had a penchant for cigars and cast an air of upper class culture. He represented the Trader Emergency Coalition Loyalist faction, having taken over leadership after the split, and had done much to solidify their position as the alliances crumbled.

To his left sat Acting Executive Danila Zakharov. He was older, a war hero, and had a scar on his jaw to prove it. He was dressed in military finery, and his gaze darted about the room, cold, calculating, distrustful. He led the Trader Emergency Coalition Rebel faction, as it was so termed, after they had split off, and he'd done more than his share of damage to the Advent and Vasari after he defected with them. If there was going to be a hard sell here, it would be him.

The third point in the circle was Supreme Mother Aria Isdral, of the Advent. Her hair was of a shimmering blue, face adorned with heavy makeup, and she wore robes of white with blue trim. She had been brought to this position when the dissidents within the Unity split off, to try and purge the corruption that they were led to believe exists. And in that time, she had done much to nurture cooperation and mutual understanding between her faction and the other powers.

Lastly, the Vasari representative, Chief Consul Vakr nal'Makor, at least as far as the translation software could determine. His skin was dark grey, head elongated towards the back, fingers thin and nimble. His backstory was unknown to the rest of those present, but it was believed that he had ascended to leadership of the Vasari Rebel faction after the divide in their own civilization.

Each had brought guards, of course, who were busy nervously sizing each other up while making sure their trigger fingers didn't get too itchy. It was a collection of people who had been in states of on and off warfare for over a decade, and no one wanted to take chances with Advent PsiTech, or Vasari nanotech, in case someone decided to try and eliminate the heads of state gathered here now.

But that was far from the concern of the men and women currently seated in the conference room, to shape the fate of the galaxy in their words and actions. Bonaventura rose first, looking about the room as he began to speak. "I want to thank you all for making it out here on such short notice, I know it must have been a lot of hassle for all of you.

Now then, to avoid wasting any of our time, I'm going to get straight to the point. All of our factions have, in recent weeks, suffered attacks from some previously unknown group, without discrimination or regard for tactical considerations. Thus far we've only suffered probing attacks, but we cannot be sure that this won't manifest into something bigger in the future."

He took a breath, and then gestured to Vakr. "Now then, I'll turn the speaking over to the person who asked this meeting be held." He sat down then, leaning back in his seat as the Vasari rose.

In spite of apparent physical age, the Vasari did not tremble, or show signs of ailment. He began to speak, uttering strange alien words, that were rapidly translated by the software developed over years of warfare to interrogate prisoners, and the other leaders listened on as the translation came across.

"As you know," he said, "the Vasari entry into your space was prompted by a centuries long flight from the galactic core, where the Vasari Empire used to dwell. This Empire was destroyed abruptly and without warning by a force that we could not stop, a force that destroyed the cream of our military, that until that point had been uncontested."

He paused, to look at all the assembled leaders before resuming. "And now, that foe that destroyed the Vasari Empire, that has pursued us in our unending flight, has arrived at last."

Zakharov spoke up then. "Excuse me for playing devil's advocate and all, but I don't suppose you have any proof of this claim? How do we know that it isn't another long lost enemy, like the Advent were?"

Vakr blinked before he waved a our fingered hand over the controls next to his seat, and an image of the three empire appeared in the empty center of the circle, the TEC sandwiched between the Advent and Vasari. An arrow then painted itself, charting a path from there back towards the galactic core.

"This is the path taken by the Exodus Fleet from the Empire," Vakr said, before a quick manipulation brought another overlapping line to the fore. "This is the approach vector of the enemy, as we have determined."

"Which proves nothing," Zakharov interjected.

Vakr blinked again, before he worked the controls a bit more, banishing the map to bring up schematics and images of an enemy vessel, a large cube of massive size. "These are scans taken of enemy vessels by our rearguard, obtained at great cost. You will see it is very similar to those craft detected attacking your worlds."

"What else can you tell us about them," asked Bonaventura as he almost lazily looked over the pictures presented.

Vakr was quick to provide further information. "They are called Borg. Where they came from we do not know, but they are strong. Their ships are constructed in geometric shapes, and while their weapons are unknown, they are very effective. Vasari will be sending what knowledge we have on them to you once this conference is over."

That was hardly news to inspire confidence, so many unknowns about their foe, and it did not help to make anyone there feel better. Still, without a heavy attack underway, they were willing to be practical. There was no need to panic just yet.

Aria spoke up then, having given the matter careful consideration. "Now that we have confirmed the identity of the threat, what will we do about it?"

Dismissing all holograms, Vakr had an answer prepared. "We of the Vasari are ready to accept your peoples into the Exodus Fleet, to leave this space and continue our journey until we can at last escape this foe."

Bonaventura, fingers laced and hands resting in front of him, looked between his counterparts carefully. "While I thank the Vasari for their offer, I'm afraid my people will not abandon our homes for a potentially endless flight from danger."

Zakharov nodded in agreement, a state of affairs that felt strange for him. "Running is not an option."

"That is the opinion of the Advent as well," Aria concurred. "So it seems we have no choice but to fight. Sadly, my more fundamentalist brethren will not entreat with the Traders, so we cannot count on their support in this struggle."

Vakr tilted his head as his gaze switched between the assembled humans, but he didn't contest their decision. "I see. Many of the Exodus Fleet have already departed for unknown space, but those who remain will provide what support we can, for as long as we are able."

"And we thank you for that," Bonaventura replied with a nod to the alien.

Zakharov wasn't about to be left out of this coalition, though he was cautious as well. "We will help," he said. "As long as you don't expect us to do all the heavy lifting here."

Aria looked across to Zakharov, serene but firm in demeanor. "I am sure all involved will do their part in this coming struggle. We will not leave our collective security solely in the hands of one faction, Especially one known for it's xenophobia."

Zakharov met her gaze, unyielding. "I'm not sure I like what you're implying, Supreme Mother."

"I am not implying anything," Aria countered. "You are free to read into my words as deeply as you wish, I will not stop you."

Bonaventura interjected before things could escalate further. "Gentlemen, ladies, and aliens, I suggest we all calm down. We don't need to be fighting each other when we have an enemy at the gates."

The two representatives broke their impromptu showdown, Zakharov grumbling as Bonaventura went on. "Now then, I believe there are two other issues that need to be addressed; that of technology, and the coordination on fleets and the war effort amongst this coalition."

Vakr had retaken his seat by this point, and spoke up then. "The Vasari will impart such technologies that you are able to understand and reproduce. But we will command our own forces."

Aria nodded in agreement. "The Advent will cooperate in this technological exchange as well. As for prosecution of the war, perhaps it would be best to set up a committee of the major powers, to ease collaboration and lessen the chance that one side will feel like they are being manipulated."

"I endorse this suggestion, and will contribute what technology we can," Bonaventura said to his equals at the other points of the circle.

Zakharov frowned as he considered the two motions before him. "I suppose I can agree to an exchange of technology," he ceded reluctantly. "But I will not allow my forces to be directed by a committee, especially one in which the Advent and Vasari have significant input."

Bonaventura sighed. "Acting Executive Zakharov, such an attitude is unbecoming of a leader whos faction is about to be thrown into crisis."

Zakharov looked over to Bonaventura, firm in stance. "Director General, you had just barely gotten into parliament when the war began, but I served on the front, I saw what it was like." He gestured to the jagged scar on his jaw. "And I can tell you that leading a war by committee only leads to bureaucracy, politics, and a loss of initiative that could be fatal. It doesn't work. And if you think I'm going to trust the people we've been at war with, and who've killed billions, then you don't know me well."

Vakr blinked as he looked between the two, before he added to the conversation. "Perhaps I am wrong, but have you not killed billions by your actions, some of them your own people?"

"It was self defense with no other choice," Zakharov replied as he directed his attention to the elder Vasari, undaunted by the fact that it was apparently him against the room. "We only resorted to nuclear weapon saturation tactics after you'd used similar tactics."

That was getting into dangerous territory, the confusing beginning of the war when the Trade Order was collapsing under the Vasari assault. As it was, many records were lost when the Order reorganized into the Emergency Coalition, and even now it was still hard to distinguish fact from propaganda.

He then found himself the focus of Aria's attention, the Supreme Mother still warm yet iron in her own way. "I see. What would you suggest then, Acting Executive?"

Zakharov had a suggestion prepared, one that would hopefully be accepted. He'd hate to have to leave this coalition and lose out on the technology to be gained from the Advent and Vasari, but there were some lines he was unwilling to cross. "We choose a supreme commander to coordinate the war effort that answers to this council, someone with experience in managing large scale strategic maneuvers and ideally someone that all parties can agree upon."

Bonaventura gave him a knowing smirk then. "I assume you're going to suggest yourself then? You are a war hero after all."

His attempt at subtle mockery failed as Zakharov shook his head. "I have more than enough things to do without having to coordinate a major war effort, though I wouldn't refuse if I were to be chosen. I have a feeling that that won't happen though." He hardly had to point out who would oppose.

"So who would you suggest then," Aria asked, curiosity piqued by his refusal.

"Well, I'll have to see if I can find him, but I was thinking of suggesting Admiral Richards for the job," Zakharov told them.

"I thought Admiral Richards retired," Bonaventura pointed out.

Zakharov treated that with a legitimate grin. "He did. But once a soldier, always a soldier, and if we tell him this is to save everything, he'll hardly say no. It's just a matter of making sure he hasn't wandered off since he left military service."

"Very well," Aria agreed. "I can say that I am willing to give the Admiral this position, tentative upon the formal settlement and declaration of this coalition, of course."

Bonaventura signed on as well, but not everyone was on board with this idea. "Vasari will contribute, but we will work independently" Vakr told them, in a manner that implied trying to argue would be a bad idea.

"Very well," Bonaventura replied with an inherent sigh before he straightened up, rising from his seat. "Now then, I suggest a short break so we can clear our heads and report our proceedings to our respective governments before we reach a point where they can string us up for treason."

It was a motion that carried handily, and the lights rose to a passable level as the quartet departed. Bodyguards from each faction broke off to follow their leaders as they emerged and dispersed to contact their own governments, if only to inform them as to the state of the proceedings thus far.

It also provided the opportunity for conversations in private, which Zakharov took advantage of to approach Bonaventura separate from the others.

The Director General was lighting a cigar as he noted his counterparts approach. "I was surprised," he said as he let out a light puff of smoke. "You were actually being somewhat reasonable."

"I've always been reasonable," Zakharov countered, while wishing he had his flask with him. Sadly, he had to stay sober for the duration of this meeting. "Just stubborn."

"Oh, sure. Is that what you told them before the battle of Junius VII," Bonaventura asked with a conspiratorial wink.

Zakharov harrumphed as he recalled that particular campaign, which had involved an ambush by a fleet hidden inside a magnetic cloud. It had been tough, but in the end it had won them the system. "Being in command means knowing when to take risks. I did, and it paid off." He frowned then. "But I don't trust them."

He certainly didn't have to explain who he was referring to, and the statement prompted a smirk from Bonaventura as he blew smoke rings into the air, only to be whisked away by the stations ventilation system. "Why, just because they were your enemies? There's a ceasefire now."

"Yes," Zakharov confirmed with a nod. "Because they're our enemies, and because a week of peace won't make up for thirty years of near constant fighting. How do we know the Vasari won't run like they always have? How do we know the Advent won't use us as meat shields, and then finish us off once we've beaten this great foe for them?"

"By that logic, how do you know you can trust me," Bonaventura pointed out. "We were enemies, recently as well."

"Because you're human," Zakharov replied. "Because until that split, we were on the same side. And we can be again."

Bonaventura carefully held his cigar as he shook his head. "Sorry, but I'd prefer to avoid renewed war at this point. It's bad for business."

For some reason, Zakharov wasn't willing to accept that answer. "There's going to be a war coming whether you want it or not. If this is the great foe of the Vasari, then we're going to have to fight, and if not then peace will break down. But go ahead, hide behind your walls and enjoy your luxuries while we fight."

That seemed to strike a nerve, and Bonaventura flinched, before he took in a deep breath of cigar smoke. "Just because we prefer to stay on the defensive doesn't mean we aren't willing to fight," he pointed out. "You'll appreciate all these defenses when the Borg make it through Vasari space. Because we both know that Vakr's people don't have the force to hold off the Borg even if they wanted to."

Zakharov would cede the second point, but he wasn't so sure on the first. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?"

"Yes, we will," Bonaventura concurred.

Zakharov then turned and began to move away, intent on contacting his government to see if they could find Admiral Richards, but he paused in mid motion, to look back over his shoulder at his counterpart. "There's going to be hell to pay if we're wrong about this, and I don't just mean in a political sense."

Bonaventura glanced over, and nodded. 'I know. But we aren't."

With that last word, the two leaders separated, to make their reports, and then head back to the negotiating table. It would be hard work, and a lot of argument, but here a basic framework would be laid down, of a coalition to unite the powers in the face of this common foe. Only time would tell if it could endure the struggles to come.