MSNPC Themem Zilo - Vanished Reports
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Ryden Kel
Oct 12, 2025, 5:25:30 PM (7 days ago) Oct 12
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((Capitol City – High Council Offices))
Themem Zilo stood behind his desk, reviewing the most recent trade
ledger, though the numbers had long since blurred into a meaningless
grid. The reports always told the same story... loss, interruption,
and Federation silence.
He heard their approach before the door chime. Starfleet boots had a
rhythm that Capricalians did not. When the chime sounded, he was
already looking up.
Zilo: Enter.
Three officers stepped into the office, their movements crisp, their
uniforms immaculate. The leader... an Andorian, judging by the pale
skin and antennae... offered a polite nod. His bearing was military
but not severe, and his ice-blue eyes carried a quick intelligence
that marked him as someone who measured every word before speaking.
Beside him stood a human man with a calm, deliberate stride. Zilo
noted the steadiness in his posture and the careful weight of his
gaze.
The third figure loomed behind them, a Gorn whose height and scaled
frame cast a faint shimmer beneath the office lights. Zilo’s mind
flicked briefly to speculation... was this presence intended as subtle
intimidation? The Gorn moved with controlled, deliberate precision,
betraying no aggression, yet the sheer size and alienness of him
filled the room with an unspoken authority. Zilo’s fingers tightened
briefly on the edge of his desk, a reminder that even the most
disciplined officers carried presence as power.
Foster: Yes, greetings Secretary Zilo. I am Commander Foster, and this
is Lieutenant Ross and Ensign S’zurak.
S’zurak/Ross: ?
Introductions. Formal, practiced. Zilo inclined his head slightly.
Zilo: Commander. Lieutenant. Ensign. Welcome to the Capital. I trust
your arrival was... uncomplicated.
The Andorian’s antennae dipped in what Zilo assumed was a courteous gesture.
Foster: I understand you filed several complaints with the Federation
Trade Commission and they did not answer any of them until your most
recent complaint.
S’zurak/Ross: ?
The words were measured, careful. Zilo recognized the tone... an
opening move from someone trained to listen before defending. He took
a slow breath, folding his hands behind his back as he stepped toward
the viewport. Outside, transports crossed the skyline like quiet
ghosts.
Zilo: I did not count how many times I filed them, Commander. At some
point, one loses track when every message vanishes into the same void.
He turned back toward them, expression even.
Zilo: My daughter captained a freighter that ran Federation-protected
lanes. The protection did not hold. The pirates came, and the response
never did. Since then, I have made it my business to ensure no other
family endures that silence again.
For a moment, the air felt heavy in the room. Then, Zilo’s tone
steadied once more.
Zilo: So yes, Commander. I filed my complaints. And at last, Starfleet
has decided to listen. The question is... for how long?
Zilo gestured toward the chairs opposite his desk, though he did not
sit himself. His eyes swept over the three officers once more, noting
the disciplined set of the Andorian’s shoulders, the human’s
controlled calm, and the quiet strength in the Gorn’s presence.
Zilo: I am aware of the complaint you reference, Commander. It is the
only one your Trade Commission acknowledges. The others… vanished.
He paused, letting the weight of that statement settle in the room.
His gaze drifted briefly to the holo of his daughter, then back to the
officers.
Zilo: I will speak plainly. My people’s commerce is suffering, our
shipping lanes unsafe, and my reports to the Federation were
ignored... ::purposeful beat:: or erased. I cannot say which.
Foster/Ross/S’zurak: ?
Zilo: I will not mince words for politeness. If Starfleet expects
Capricalia to remain a member of the Federation, it must act. Words
alone are insufficient.
Foster/Ross/S’zurak: ?
Zilo: The question before us is simple. Will you listen to the
entirety of my reports and address the threats we face… or will
history repeat itself?
Foster/Ross/S’zurak: ?
Zilo’s eyes lingered on the Andorian, the human, and the Gorn in turn.
His tone softened only slightly, tempered by years of measured
diplomacy.
Zilo: I am willing to believe in the Federation again. That belief,
however, must be earned… not assumed.
Foster/Ross/S’zurak: ?
----
MSNPC
Themem Zilo
Secretary of Commerce - Capricalia
as simmed by
-----
Lieutenant JG Ryden Tarus Kel
Medical Officer
StarBase 118 Ops
O240109RK1
Themem Zilo stood behind his desk, reviewing the most recent trade
ledger, though the numbers had long since blurred into a meaningless
grid. The reports always told the same story... loss, interruption,
and Federation silence.
He heard their approach before the door chime. Starfleet boots had a
rhythm that Capricalians did not. When the chime sounded, he was
already looking up.
Zilo: Enter.
Three officers stepped into the office, their movements crisp, their
uniforms immaculate. The leader... an Andorian, judging by the pale
skin and antennae... offered a polite nod. His bearing was military
but not severe, and his ice-blue eyes carried a quick intelligence
that marked him as someone who measured every word before speaking.
Beside him stood a human man with a calm, deliberate stride. Zilo
noted the steadiness in his posture and the careful weight of his
gaze.
The third figure loomed behind them, a Gorn whose height and scaled
frame cast a faint shimmer beneath the office lights. Zilo’s mind
flicked briefly to speculation... was this presence intended as subtle
intimidation? The Gorn moved with controlled, deliberate precision,
betraying no aggression, yet the sheer size and alienness of him
filled the room with an unspoken authority. Zilo’s fingers tightened
briefly on the edge of his desk, a reminder that even the most
disciplined officers carried presence as power.
Foster: Yes, greetings Secretary Zilo. I am Commander Foster, and this
is Lieutenant Ross and Ensign S’zurak.
S’zurak/Ross: ?
Introductions. Formal, practiced. Zilo inclined his head slightly.
Zilo: Commander. Lieutenant. Ensign. Welcome to the Capital. I trust
your arrival was... uncomplicated.
The Andorian’s antennae dipped in what Zilo assumed was a courteous gesture.
Foster: I understand you filed several complaints with the Federation
Trade Commission and they did not answer any of them until your most
recent complaint.
S’zurak/Ross: ?
The words were measured, careful. Zilo recognized the tone... an
opening move from someone trained to listen before defending. He took
a slow breath, folding his hands behind his back as he stepped toward
the viewport. Outside, transports crossed the skyline like quiet
ghosts.
Zilo: I did not count how many times I filed them, Commander. At some
point, one loses track when every message vanishes into the same void.
He turned back toward them, expression even.
Zilo: My daughter captained a freighter that ran Federation-protected
lanes. The protection did not hold. The pirates came, and the response
never did. Since then, I have made it my business to ensure no other
family endures that silence again.
For a moment, the air felt heavy in the room. Then, Zilo’s tone
steadied once more.
Zilo: So yes, Commander. I filed my complaints. And at last, Starfleet
has decided to listen. The question is... for how long?
Zilo gestured toward the chairs opposite his desk, though he did not
sit himself. His eyes swept over the three officers once more, noting
the disciplined set of the Andorian’s shoulders, the human’s
controlled calm, and the quiet strength in the Gorn’s presence.
Zilo: I am aware of the complaint you reference, Commander. It is the
only one your Trade Commission acknowledges. The others… vanished.
He paused, letting the weight of that statement settle in the room.
His gaze drifted briefly to the holo of his daughter, then back to the
officers.
Zilo: I will speak plainly. My people’s commerce is suffering, our
shipping lanes unsafe, and my reports to the Federation were
ignored... ::purposeful beat:: or erased. I cannot say which.
Foster/Ross/S’zurak: ?
Zilo: I will not mince words for politeness. If Starfleet expects
Capricalia to remain a member of the Federation, it must act. Words
alone are insufficient.
Foster/Ross/S’zurak: ?
Zilo: The question before us is simple. Will you listen to the
entirety of my reports and address the threats we face… or will
history repeat itself?
Foster/Ross/S’zurak: ?
Zilo’s eyes lingered on the Andorian, the human, and the Gorn in turn.
His tone softened only slightly, tempered by years of measured
diplomacy.
Zilo: I am willing to believe in the Federation again. That belief,
however, must be earned… not assumed.
Foster/Ross/S’zurak: ?
----
MSNPC
Themem Zilo
Secretary of Commerce - Capricalia
as simmed by
-----
Lieutenant JG Ryden Tarus Kel
Medical Officer
StarBase 118 Ops
O240109RK1
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