Hysperia knew the name "Weems." The House of Weems held a place in the upper eschelons of Hysperian society since the colony's founding. The Weems, it was known, threw the best tournaments. Stanley was the fourth son in a brood of seven, second youngest overall. While his brothers and sisters were groomed for high society, Stanley was always hiding in a corner, in his rooms, playing with his little space ships. Stanley knew from a young age that the way his people lived was...weird. Their "high magic" was just technology. Chefs weren't "conjurers," they just knew how to prepare replicated food.
Sure, the Hysperian Draconid were real - they were dragon-like native inhabitants of the colony world. But while everyone else in the *whole world* seemed to love the lavish costumes and fantasy trappings, Stanley just wanted to go to Earth, join Starfleet, and be a normal person. So he rebelled. A lot.
His teen years were particularly bad. He was expected to wear ridiculous amounts of cured leather and wool - even in summer - and be foppish and friendly at the many galas the noble family hosted. He largely refused to participate, which resulted in no small number of shouting matches with his father. One particularly impassioned row led to Stanley storming out of the family manor house after a backhand across the face from the Right Honorable Lord Farnsworth Esposito Weems.
Stanley stole the family's luxury yacht that night and flew directly to the Sol system, enrolling in Starfleet as soon as his boots hit the ground on Earth. He was halfway through his first semester when a battle group from Hysperia appeared in Earth orbit searching for "the Weems boy." Their orders were to physically restrain him and return him to his home world, but his age made him legally an adult under Federation law, and his enrollment in Starfleet Academy caused his student advisor to step in.
Lord Weems reluctantly agreed to let his son complete his Starfleet education, and even shipped him "Arondight," the Weems family heirloom broadsword, to wear as a service blade. Stanley did this reluctantly at the councel of his advisor, to appease his father.
Stanley graduated from Starfleet Academy's School of Sciences and was assigned to the starship, U.S.S. Renaissance - a Centaur-class support vessel - of which he eventually assumed command.
"Stanley," Admiral Quinn said after Weems had shut the office door and taken an at-ease stance in front of the admiral's broad desk, "you've put me in an awkward position."
"Yes sir," the captain of the Hysperian Monaveen-class Battlecruiser, Umbrasyl, acknowledged, "sorry, sir."
"Your home colony has drifted away from the Federation since its founding and your father's generous donation of a battlecruiser to Starfleet represents an opportunity to draw them back into the fold, so to speak."
"Yes sir, I know sir."
"This is a diplomatic nightmare!" Quinn said, raising his voice. After a pause, he rubbed his palm over his face in a gesture of exasperation. "What were you thinking, Stan?"
"May I speak candidly, sir?"
"The door's closed," Admiral Quinn said with a forced smile that did nothing to relieve the tension between them, "why not?"
"Starfleet should never have accepted the ship in the first place. I know we've lost a lot of ships these last few years - fighting the Terrans, and the Hurq before that, and the Iconians, and the Vaadwuar, and the Borg. But taking that ship made us seem desperate, and desperate people are susceptible to manipulation."
"It wasn't out of desperation that we accepted, Stan, and we aren't subject to being manipulated by a backward world that thinks technology is magic."
"Sir, these are my people, remember? No Hysperian really believes technology is magic. If they did we wouldn't have modern shipyards turning out ships of our own design, or computers, or replicators, or transporters. We really would be a backward people. But we're not. All of that stuff about sorcery, all the castles and the knightly tournaments and all that - it's show. It's a massive, society-wide role playing game. Our entire culture is built on willful self-delusion.
"Which, I'm ashamed to say, also makes Hysperian masters of manipulation. My father didn't donate that ship as a gesture of goodwill or a desire to move our people closer to the Federation. He did it because he disapproves of my leaving Hysperia ton join Starfleet, and wanted a means to manipulate me - to remain in control of my destiny as he has been all my life.
"Once he had that, he used it to try to manipulate me into doing his bidding rather than following the principles and ideals of Starfleet. It was subtle at first - so subtle even I didn't notice it. Rescuing the Azura from Orion raiders, for example - I learned months later that he orchestrated that entire encounter for reasons I haven't been able to intuit. There are a dozen other things - I've detailed them all in my personal logs, and filed reports with Starfleet Command and Starfleet Intelligence, all of which have gone unaddressed.
"When you ordered me to transport the Hysperian delegation to Qo'noS, though, he openly tried to convince me to attack a convoy of Orion ships being escorted by KDF frigates. When I refused and made it clear I would not be swayed, he used secret command codes embedded in the ship's systems to allow his own security staff to take over the ship. If my chief engineer hadn't done some fast thinking and even faster computer bypasses, he could have driven a rift between the Aliance and the Klingon Empire. Hell, for all I know it might have sparked a new war in the Beta Quadrant."
Quinn looked thoughtful, "I was unaware of that last part. I'd seen your earlier reports, but frankly they sounded like the paranoia of a son who grew up under the thumb of an oppressive father."
"And that, admiral, is why even after accepting the ship, Starfleet should never have assigned it to my command. My strained relationship with my family provided the perfect camouflage for my father's intrigues. We need to put an end to this, sir. Approve my request and assign me to another ship. Give me back the Renaissance and put me back in a support role if that's what you have to do. But get me and my senior staff off the Trojan horse that my father 'gifted' the fleet."
Three days later, back aboard the Umbrasyl and making warp factor seven toward Lukari Prime for a state dinner, Captain Weems received a prerecorded message from Admiral Quinn.
"Captain, I've conducted some quiet investigations and found your accusations of malfeasance on the part of your father to be credible. There is still the diplomatic angle to consider, however. I'm still working with the diplomatic corps to frame the messaging back to Hysperia, but here is my decision:
"You will be given command of the U.S.S. Guerneville, a California-class utility cruiser. Officially you will be transferred to the Logistics and Fleet Support Division, but unofficially you will continue in your current role as Alliance Attache. The Guerneville will be outfitted with the latest weapons and gear, as ready for battle as your family's battlecruiser ever was - and then some. The Umbrasyl will remain on the books as also being under your command to appease your father, however, she will be redesignated the U.S.S. Jormungandr. You may be called upon from time to time to take her out of space dock for specific missions, but most of the time you will command the Guerneville.
"You are hereby ordered to make course for DS9, where you will rendezvous with Captain Angela Cordero aboard the Guerneville. The two ships' crews will swap vessels, at which point you will receive new orders and Captain Cordero will return the Umbrasyl to Earth Spacedock for maintenance and rechristening."