The Quorathi Council Chamber of Tirath Vann was quieter than it had been since the arrival of the off world ships. The system-wide broadcast had ended hours earlier, yet its weight still hung in the air. Councilors sat in thoughtful silence, some with hands folded, others staring at the polished stone table as if it might offer answers. Outside the high windows, the sky above Quorath III was clear. No warbird cast its shadow there now.

Captain Jerok stood beside Admiral Tolak tr’Servek at the center of the chamber. Both men were calm and resolute, patiently waiting in silence for the Quorathi Council to make the first move.

Finally, an elder councilor rose. Her posture was steady, but there was no mistaking the gravity in her expression. “What we witnessed cannot be unseen,” she said, “The crimes of the Tal Shiar, and the continuation of those methods by the Free State, have been laid bare before our people. Some will be angry. Some will be afraid. But none can say they were kept in ignorance.”

Jerok inclined his head, “Truth has consequences. We believed you deserved it, even knowing it would be difficult.”

Tolak spoke next, his voice calm and unembellished, “The Republic did not request this broadcast, but we will not deny its contents. The people of the Republic are only about twenty years removed from that version of the Romulan Star Empire. We do not claim to be without fault, but we reject the methods you saw today. Control through fear is not our future, nor should it be yours.”

A younger councilor leaned forward, “The Free State fled.”

“Yes,” Tolak replied, “They withdrew once their attempted narrative collapsed. Influence is their weapon. When it fails, they rarely linger.”

Jerok added, “Their departure does not mean they are gone forever. But it does mean they no longer hold the upper hand here.”

The elder councilor regarded them both for a long moment, “You intervened without demanding authority. You revealed danger without insisting on protection. That matters.”

She turned slightly, addressing the rest of the council, “Quorath has lived for centuries apart from the galaxy that birthed us. That separation shaped us. What we choose now must also shape us.”

There was quiet agreement around the chamber. No applause. No declarations. Just resolve.

“We will not invite permanent fleets into our skies,” the elder continued, “Nor will we close ourselves to cooperation. We will accept limited aid, cultural exchange, and open dialogue. Nothing more until we decide otherwise.”

Jerok allowed himself a small breath of relief, “That is exactly as it should be.”

Tolak inclined his head in a gesture that was distinctly Romulan, but softened by something else. Respect. The council chambers emptied as the session came to a close. Jerok and Tolak exited the room, cautiously optimistic at the outcome.

Later, on the terrace overlooking the city, Jerok and Tolak stood alone. The Yorktown and the Devoras were visible as distant points of light, steady and unthreatening. Far beyond them, the Free State warbird was gone.

“They will report this as a setback,” Jerok said quietly, “They will pretend it was tactical.”

“They will remember it as humiliation,” Tolak replied, “Worse for them. But I fear that the Free State may try to return in secret. Manipulation is their way.

Jerok glanced toward the city below, where lights were beginning to come on as evening approached, “The Quorathi chose themselves today.”

Tolak nodded, “That is all the Federation or Republic ever truly wanted.”

A pause settled between them, not uncomfortable. Just reflective.

“We leave tomorrow,” Jerok said, “Unless they ask us to stay.”

“They will not,” Tolak answered, “And that is a good thing.”

Above them, the stars of the Shackleton Expanse burned cold and distant. Quorath III remained where it always had been, no longer hidden, no longer alone, but finally unclaimed by outsiders. And that, for now, was enough.