From his position at the science station, Lt. Commander Clarke watched the scene in the bridge play out, one hand clasping his opposing wrist, fingers gently rapping against it as a look of faint contempt washed over his face. [i]Peacekeeping. They keep using that word. I don't think it means what it think they means. Mark my words, by the end of the year, they'll have chopped up Romulan space between us and the Klingons faster than you can say "To hell with the Prime Directive!"[/i]

Clarke had spent most of his adult life studying what small peaks into the cultural, biological, and evolutionary history of Romulan Space the Star Empire had allowed the Federation to glimpse through his original team's expeditions back on Science Station D-4, near the trinary border and the former united colony effort between the Klingons, Romulans, and Federation at Nimbus III. His career had been modeled on the stories and reports of Starfleet's exploits prior to the Dominion Wars, when the organization was about exploration, learning, and growing peaceful coexistence.

But that was all in the past. The warhawks, arms dealers, and would-be generals had gotten their way, and now Starfleet had more in common with its history as the United Earth army and navy than it did in the days gone by. Violating the rights of foreign sentients in the name of "policing" and "security" is not what Starfleet should be about, and it went against the very fiber of everything Clarke had been taught and had done since his first day at Starfleet Academy. But yet here he was, hoping that in some twisted way he could bring that sense of peace and learning back by being at the forefront of this excursion. And so he grimly paid attention to the speech being made, and played out his duties as the ship prepared for its full departure with the rest of the fleet vessels crossing the Neutral Zone.