JDL | "Pissing Match" | CMDR Archer & CMDR Ivanova

Posted on Sun Jun 9th, 2013 @ 4:01am by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova

1,856 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Secret Meetings
Location: Commander Ivanova's Quarters

After opening his briefcase, James removes a stack of PADDs. The first one that caught his eye was the Executive Officer’s encounter when she was in route to rendezvous with the Vindicator. “Well well, what do we have here?” James hits a button on his desk, “Commander Ivanova, your presence is immediately requested in the Intelligence Office!”

Great Expectations held the officer's rapt attention, a slender finger gently caressing the corner of a page in anticipation of it's turning. The warmth of her bed combined with the spellbinding beauty of the piece of classic literature she cradled against her uplifted knees left the still bruised little woman feeling somewhat secure and overwhelmed by the budding quiet and calm she so deserved.

And then it was broken by the crackle and bark of her commbadge followed by the rugged bellow of a masculine voice. Rochelle's eyes rolled as she reached over, mid-turn of that aforementioned page, "Your request has been immediately denied until I return to duty." She answered without a second thought, "Ivanova, out." and back into the visual fantasy of her book she began to spiral.

James sighed with disdane. "What is with the women on this ship?" Pushing the button on his desk again, "Commander, this can be done two ways. Take your pick."

With a groan the spirited redhead dog eared the freshly turned page and stared at her commbadge with an equal amount of disdain. The sound of her rustling sheets heralded the arrival of her annoyance as she uncovered her scratched legs, "My way." She answered shortly, the two words short, clipped and measured heavily.

"Interesting choice, considering your way wasn't an option." James stands, picks up the PADD, and makes his way to the door. Muttering to himself he swiftly walks down the passageway, "These women are going to be my undoing." James reaches up and rings the chime to Ivanova's door.

A snort tore through the otherwise silent room as she listened to the cocky intelligence officer come back with his best retort. Ivanova stretched and masked a yawn before she got to her feet, tugged her white t-shirt down over her barely exposed midriff, and padded tenderly across her quarters to her door. It didn't take long before her chime rang and she answered it with rolling baby blues. "Your mother's tenacity obviously wasn't tempered down by your father's level head, Commander Archer. Looks like they unchained yet another pit bull into the world of Starfleet Intelligence." Rochelle motioned in a sweeping manner for the handsome officer to enter her quarters.

"Have a seat. Tea? Coffee? Cyanide?" The redhead played the gracious hostess all too easily, after all... It was Kings to her, he'd marched his happy ass all the way up to play ball in her court, saving her the need to stuff her tired body into yet another stiff command uniform. Instead, she plodded towards the kitchen in her rolled up sweats, that were several sizes too large, and a scooped neck t-shirt that hugged her battered ribs in jersey knit comfort.

"Cyanide? Really? I know you can come up with better." James watched as she schleppe her way into the mini galley. "I just have a few questions for you, Commander. I won't torture you. I promise. Unless you're into that sort of thing. It's imperitive that you cooperate. I really don't want to have to contact Starfleet Command and toss you in the brig over your refusal to answer a couple questions."

"Tea it is." Rochelle half sighed, ignoring his sarcastic jeer. "You're lucky, Archer, I don't do replicated crap either." She added as she filled and set a kettle on. Turning around, she leaned coolly against a near by counter and foldered her arms neatly over her chest, her left brow lifting in a fine arch. "Sounds extremely kinky. Tell me more." The Commander all but purred, the corner of her mouth quirking into a little smirk, "Bullshit aside, what is it that you want? While I'd love to sit and play footsie with you, I have better things on the docket."

"This shouldn't take very long, as long as you answer truthfully," James followed Rochelle intently as she bebopped around the galley. "So, give me a rundown of the events that landed you on light duty.

The roll of bright blue eyes and the sound of a scoff dominated the features of the little Commander, "Riiiight. Because I'd lie about what happened." Rochelle's head shook as she pushed herself away from the counter, putting further distance between the two of them as he approached. Trust was one of those things that refused to come easily, especially when it came to pretty faces and attitudes as high strung as her own. The Vindicator was doomed as long as the two of them continued at odds, this she knew as she stole a glance at him through a falling veil of titian hair before she cast it back behind her ear.

"We noticed the shuttle, pursued, captured, hailed the Vindicator and the damned thing blew up. Commander Landon was on screen at the time. Satisfied?" She asked, standing on tip toe to reach for a pair of mugs, the sensation of the stretching motion leaving far from warm and fuzzies against her freshly set ribs.

"Hardly satisfied. Do you know who you were 'pursuing'? What steps did you take to capture the shuttle? Why did you capture the shuttle? Details, Commander. Details. I know you didn't become the XO of this ship by skimming on them. So, elaborate if you will."

Again, Ivanova scoffed, though this time it came as more of a snort as she rested back on the flat of her feet and set the mugs on the counter, "No I don't know who I was pursuing. I hailed them to inquire about their course and relation to Vindicator, they responded by going faster." She began to answer his litany of questions while pouring their tea, "Captured them using a focused ion beam matching their warp signature, power spike, disabled them and held them. I made that decision based on the evidence and having been in my fair share of scrapes with suicide bombers and other friendlies."

A small hand held a freshly poured mug out to the man, her eyes searching the lines of his face. He was an interesting sort -- tense, unyielding -- but interesting. "Sugar is in blue bowl. And for the record," A sip of tea only served to add a new element of suspense, "I became XO of this ship because I'm damn good at what I do, not because I keep detailed notes on every scumbag I encounter." Touche.

"So, you make a habbit of NOT paying attention to detail while on mission? Interesting." James took some notes on his PADD, "May explain a few things."

When he didn't take his tea, Ivanova set it down on the counter nearest to him with an audible clink and retreated to a far corner of the small galley with her own. Her fingers wrapped tightly around the warmth of the mug and her eyes leveled upon the man, sizing him up, picking him apart. "Precisely. I spend my time day dreaming and doodling unicorns while twirling my hair and painting my nails. Paying attention is so overrated."

"Mmhmm. Unicorns you say," James makes more notes on the PADD then eyes Ivanova across the room.

"Yep. Great big shiny ones with manes full of square cut glitter." Their eyes locked, the redhead's own cold and sharp with scrutiny as she watched him make his notes.

"Very nice. Do they have gold or silver horns?" James, shut the PADD off and stared intently at Ivanova. "Since you are refusing to cooperate, I'm going to recommend... no that's not the right word, oh yeah, order, that's the word. I'm going to order that you take a series of psycological batteries. It is my personal and professional opinion that the events of SB Wydah have had an adverse effect on your judgement. I will be in contact with Starfleet Command. Failure to follow this order will have you confined to your stateroom until we arrive at the nearest starbase where you will be transferred into the custody of Starfleet Intelligence for debriefing." James picked up his teacup and took a sip, giving his best 'I'm not playing' look at Ivanova. "This is good tea, by the way."

The eyebrow arched high again and then it was Ivanova's own mug's turn to lay upon the counter, it's ceramic protesting against the high polished granite top. "Funny that." The spritely woman contended, wagging her finger at the arrogant fellow, "I went through a battery of psychological exams after those events. Had to before they'd even consider putting me back in a uniform and, trust me, it's kept many a counselor's paycheck super thick." She bridged the gap between them, her own irritation coaxing her further out of her shell. "Since then I've not only aided in the capture of one Hell of a war criminal, but kept the USS Griffin solid until the day she was decommissioned. Starfleet begged me to stay on rather than retire when that groovy little contract expired. So if you think my career is going to be adversely effected by some snot nosed, pompous, over entitled Admiral-bred brat coming to knock on my door and badger me about an incident less than a day after I sustained a concussion trying to prevent another catastrophe, you're out of your god damned mind and can plan on me launching an official complaint into your abuse of power. Are we green?"

She paused, inches from him. So close that she could pick out the individual scents of his cologne, soap and personal man-musk. So close that if she'd strained her ears, she was sure she could have heard the beating of his heart. Her head tilted and a smile, sardonic and sweet as arsenic laced candy, spread across her facial features. "Thank you. Enjoy it."

James smiled as he stood, "You can stop being a hard ass anytime now and just answer the questions. Honestly, it would be so much easier for you." He makes his way to the door, "You're a smart cookie and I have every bit of faith that you'll do the right thing. You have 24 hours to give me a detailed report."

"And you, sir, have twenty-four hours to kiss my ass. I'm on medical leave until cleared by Lieutenant Roefer. You're a smart cookie, I have every bit of faith you'll confirm that with her. You'll get that report when I'm ready." Ivanova grinned like the cat that ate the canary, her fingers wiggling in a cute little goodbye wave as the door to her quarters hissed shut. The grin faded, the hand dropped, and once left alone in the solace of her quarters, Rochelle Ivanova sighed and padded back to the comforts of bed and a good book.


-fin-

Commander Rochelle Ivanova
Executive Officer
USS VINDICATOR

Commander James Archer
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS VINDICATOR

 

RSS Feed