I Object! Part IV
Posted on Fri Jun 12th, 2026 @ 12:43pm by Captain Thorrin & Commander Marisa Sandoval & Lieutenant C'Mila Juli & Major Hastios Eilfaren
Edited on on Fri Jun 12th, 2026 @ 12:57pm
2,560 words; about a 13 minute read
Mission:
In The Nick Of Time
Location: The Planet Kroat
Timeline: MD006 1230 hrs
She began to notice patterns. Clusters. Tension. Not many, but the few stood out. By the time she arrived at a spot where she could see the entire wedding, one person stood out above the rest. It didn't mean he was the one they sought, but it did mean he was someone to watch. Carefully. She had no doubt Hastios would also notice.
Juli watched first for how the Kroats seemed to mingle among one another. She listened to conversations as she approached, trying to make sense of what topics were the subjects of 'small talk' among the people, so as not to say anything that would make her stand out should she be approached. No one was sitting yet, or arranged in any formal fashion, so it seemed that they had arrived well enough ahead of the wedding itself. To busy herself without looking too suspicious she made herself appear to study the beautiful decorations about the ceremonial area, making her way toward a delicate arrangement of crystals and flowers, the largest piece on display and the most intricate, her attention more drawn to the clusters of people than the ornament itself.
She too, was approached. A young man dressed similarly to Hastios, though much less decorated, and of considerably lesser rank made his way to the disguised science officer. He stopped just short of a meter away from her. "Surely a beautiful lady such as yourself isn't here alone?" He asked, dipping his head slightly in her direction.
Before responding, Juli looked past his shoulder and made sure that she could still see Hastios nearby. Once she clocked his position, she smiled at the man. "I travelled here with my cousin," she replied. "It was an event he did not want to miss. However, I am not familiar with many here. Are you?" she asked.
She watched his answer, gauging his intentions - was he sniffing out the presence of a stranger, or just hoping to make polite conversation. Either way, she didn't intend to get pinned into this conversation for long.
Wyatt wasn't an investigator, but he was observant. Rather than engage anyone in particular in conversation, he moved among the crowd, looking for anything out of the ordinary, and listening for any conversations that would be interesting enough to eavesdrop on, or to engage in.
Marisa had one or two well-dressed Vwaarti nod to her, but none actually engaged her in conversation. Among the elite class in the front, it seemed that they would rather be seen that spoken to.
That suited her just fine. She nodded back, occasionally made eye contact, and otherwise maintained an air of aloofness. None of the Vwaarti gave her a second glance. None whispered about her behind their hands. Marisa took that as another good sign. It meant she could wander around the front, appearing to look over the setting, the stage, and the decorations, all the while paying close attention to angles and where the most advantageous point to assassinate a royal might be.
Every so often, she would pause and check on the person who was trying to be a little too casual.
Hastios kept his place among the Kroats, letting the conversation around him wash past without trying too hard to be part of it. That was usually where people made mistakes undercover. Too eager, too helpful, too full of little details no one had asked for. Better to look like a man who had come because rank required it and sentiment did not.
The officer beside him was still speaking about border trade and old honours when Hastios’ attention caught on a Kroat several bodies away. Not because he stood out too much, but because he was trying very hard not to. His posture was wrong for celebration. Too tight through the shoulders. His eyes moved to the dais, then away, then back again. One hand went toward his pocket, stopped, then stayed there as though he had remembered too late that someone might be watching.
Hastios’ expression did not change.
He turned his head slightly as if following the conversation, but his eyes stayed on the man at the edge of his vision. Nervousness was expected at a wedding like this. Anxiety was everywhere, woven through pride and hope and old distrust. This was different. This was calculation with fear wrapped around it.
The Kroat beside him gave a low chuckle at something another guest had said, and Hastios allowed himself a brief, humourless smile in return, playing the part just enough to remain invisible. Then he shifted his weight and took a step that seemed casual, nothing more than a decorated officer finding a better place to stand.
It put him closer to the suspect.
Not close enough to alarm him. Close enough to move if the hand came out of the pocket.
Hastios glanced once toward the Vwaarti side of the gathering, searching without searching for Marisa, trusting she would already be watching the same currents from her side of the meadow. Then his attention returned to the Kroat with the restless hand.
There. That one.
He did not touch his comm. Not yet.
Instead, he lifted a cup from a passing tray he had no intention of drinking from and settled into the crowd like he had all the time in the world. The man was waiting for a moment. Hastios could wait too.
Marisa's gaze was drawn again to Hastios. He was good at hiding it, but she noticed who he was watching. Yes. She gauged the line of site to the dais and adjusted her position to be in the way, if it became necessary.
There was another person that seemed to be inching forward. Slowly, yes, but he started near the back and was now just outside what she considered the Vwaarti contingency. That made two. So far.
Her most logical course of action was to remain close to the dais. The others were well-positioned to deal with a shooter.
A woman beside her drew Marisa's attention. "Are you related to the bride's family?" a Vwaarti dowager asked, looking her over.
Marisa turned and gave the older woman a haughty stare. "I am the third cousin of the bride's aunt's sister." Then she looked away. She didn't want her attention diverted. At least the attitude would keep others from trying to engage her in idle chat.
The woman sniffed and walked away, clearly disappointed.
The music started and both Kroat and Vwaarti moved into position. Korvax knew that this signaled the beginning of the wedding proper. His research had told him precisely where to stand for the best shot. He would have to kill the bride cleanly. One shot, one kill. It was the only way that it would be believed that the Kroats shot and the war would start.
It seemed that the guests were split not by gender, or family affiliation, but by species. All Kroats were on the groom's side and Vwaarti on the bride's. The small band present began to play a militaristic song. The music was a powerful, bombastic, and deeply emotional composition that blended a militant march with sweeping melodies. As the song played a small procession led by the groom in all his splendor marched down the aisle with the precision of soldiers.
As the men came down the aisle, Korvax came to proper attention. He raised his right hand to his temple and held his elbow away from his body at a right angle. This was the proper salute of a Kroat soldier. Korvax was exceptionally careful not to draw attention to himself in this moment. He had to look as if he was just one the soldiers who watched their prince wed.
Marisa stood straighter, watching the procession make its way toward the dais. The two people she'd noticed were also visible--but that did not mean there weren't others.
As Juli slipped away from the curious Kroat, her attention was drawn to another, a woman, she was slipping away from dais and appeared to be watching the procession, but also something else. Hastios had said to watch for people who weren't watching the wedding.
She had lost Marisa in the swarm of Vwaarti a while ago. She turned casually, hoping to catch a piece of the fabric of her dress, or maybe catch her eye for even a moment. She had also lost Wyatt in the crowd. To reach the woman she would have to move further away from Hastios, but she had been careful to not lost him. The tall soldiers standing at attention provided some cover for Juli to casually slip toward the back. She hoped to appear as though she was only looking for her seat without drawing attention away from the groom. She was certain the Kroats were behind this. But then she caught sight of her own alabaster and pink skin and had another thought. What if they were here in disguise as well. An uneasy feeling filled her chest as the Kroat woman she was watching fell in line behind the procession, then continued around the gathered area with another, perhaps a ceremonial sweep.
If only they had time to do more research.
She was now near the back of the guests, and not unhappy with her position on the periphery. She watched the sentinels make their sweep, but now her attention was drawn to the Vwaarti. She scanned the crowd for a sour face, someone who looked too serious, or who might be slipping away.
The Kroat entourage had arrived at the front and were lining up on one side of the dais. In the center, the prince stood, facing the audience, watching the Vwaarti party advance. A small smile danced at the corner of his lips as his eyes followed the princess as she slowly made her way forward.
The procession was taking too long for Marisa's peace of mind. Every drawn-out moment was another opportunity for the assassin. She wanted them wed and away. Safe. But that couldn't happen as long as the assassin was here.
The two she'd been watching were still in place. Still focused in a way that made them stand apart. But the one... He was too watchful. Too intent on the procession. And too close to the bride. She had to get between them and the princess. She took a step. Two. Not to stop anyone--she was too far away for that. But to get in the way if necessary. To tackle the target once she was certain. But first, she had to be in position.
She felt an elbow in her ribs and turned to see a short Vwaarti woman in a slinky purple dress with too many necklaces and rings. "You're blocking my view," the woman declared haughtily.
Marisa glared at her until the other woman stepped aside and pushed someone else out of the way. Then she turned her attention back to the bridal party. And the man who watched from behind a casually raised hand.
Hastios stood among the Kroat officers with the same rigid bearing as the men around him, his right hand raised in the proper salute as the groom’s procession advanced. On the surface, he looked like one more decorated soldier honouring his prince. Beneath that borrowed stillness, his attention had narrowed to one man.
The salute was correct. Too correct, perhaps. The posture, the elbow, the angle of the wrist, all of it had the careful precision of someone who had studied the custom rather than lived it. That alone would not have been enough. Weddings made people stiff. History made people nervous. But the man’s eyes were not on the groom, not really. They kept cutting back toward the bride’s path, measuring distance, timing, bodies between him and the shot.
Hastios saw Marisa move on the Vwaarti side, shifting with the same quiet purpose. She had him too. Good.
He did not look at her for long, only enough to catch the adjustment in her position and understand the choice she had made. She was putting herself where she could interfere if the man acted. That knowledge sat badly in his chest, but he did not let it touch his face. This was not the moment for fear, or pride, or anything personal. It was the moment before violence, and those had rules of their own.
Hastios lowered his hand with the other Kroat officers, then used the natural movement of the crowd to adjust his place. One step with the shifting line. Another under the cover of a taller soldier turning to watch the bride. He did not approach directly. He circled by fractions, closing the angle without making it look like pursuit.
The suspect’s hand lingered too close to his pocket.
There.
Hastios let his own hand drift beneath the fall of his cloak, fingers brushing the concealed phaser hidden under the heavy ceremonial fabric. His face remained impassive, every inch the stern northern officer watching a royal wedding unfold.
But his eyes stayed on the man watching the bride too closely.
Not the bride. Not the dais.
If the man moved, Hastios would move faster.
Now that Juli's attention was on the Vwaarti, she noticed other things - an impatient woman pushing someone out of the way, as Juli scanned the area, she caught sight of Marisa, her focus on the bridal party. Careful not to lose sight of her first officer, Juli also tried to follow the woman who was just passing by Marisa. She seemed to be pushing several others out of the way as well, making her way to the party as well.
The behavior struck Juli as off. Shouldn't guests be seated and still behave at this time? Still, Juli couldn't make any sudden moves, especially not into Vwaarti company without drawing attention to herself. She was now further away from Hastios and Marisa than he'd recommended before they'd entered into the celebration. She started thinking quickly, running through a number of scenarios about how to get back to them quickly, considering what could go wrong. In all likelihood, most of the people here were just guests; quite possibly, there were many who opposed the wedding even if they weren't here to see it fail. And where in the gods had Wyatt gone?
Wyatt had been standing at the edge of the crowd, wondering how he could get involved without raising suspicions or drawing attention to himself. He determined that he wasn't going to solve anything by standing around. So, he moved toward Juli.
A Joint Post By
Major Hastios Eilfaren
Chief Security & Tactical Officer
Second Officer
USS Herodotus DTI-30656
Commander Marisa Sandoval
Executive Officer
USS Herodotus DTI-30656
Captain Thorrin
Commanding Officer
USS Herodotus DTI-30656
Lieutenant C'amila Juli
Chief Science Officer
USS Herodotus DTI-30656
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