Joint Personal Log - RAdm Waterhouse, Capt Diziara, Cmdr Ivanova & Lt Waterhouse - "And You, You've Got Me Standing In An Awkward Position"

Posted on Fri Aug 8th, 2014 @ 7:39pm by Commander Amelia Waterhouse & Admiral Rochelle Ivanova

1,791 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: In the Dark

"Lieutenant Waterhouse!" Amelia made a face that could almost be called recognition as a voice barked across the noise of the promenade that served as the center of Starfleet's shipyards in Klingon space. As if a giant had yelled MOVE, the crowd parted between her and the five foot eight Admiral with the silvery-blond hair. Recognition quickly turned to confusion at the serious look on his face as he approached. Those who had moved out of his way couldn't help but stop and look.

"Yes, sir?" Amelia saluted, carefully hiding the confused look that had occupied her face a moment before. Her form was so perfect it could have been used at the Academy as an example for first year cadets.

"Have you forgotten something, Lieutenant?" he challenged, stepping up close to get in her face. Even with a five inch height disadvantage, he cut an imposing figure, though the laugh lines around his eyes crinkled almost imperceptibly. Amelia held her salute, meeting his firm gaze.

"Not that I'm aware of, sir," she insisted, then bit her lip in thought. The inflection on the sir was borderline sarcastic, but it could still be attributed to enthusiasm. A raised eyebrow was the only response she got, so she cleared her throat. "I did not forget either birthday, I was on an assignment, sir." This time the sir was very clearly sarcastic. As she was staring down the Admiral, a red-headed Klingon-Trill woman, in a uniform bearing captains pips, had approached from behind.

"Even your gypsy of a brother made it by to visit on both," the woman stage whispered into Amelia's ear. Amelia jumped, spinning to face her. "I shouldn't be able to get that close without you noticing, child," she admonished, looking over Amelia's shoulder at the Admiral with a wink. He grinned back at her as she caught Amelia in a tight hug.

"You know how imposing Daddy is when he gets it in his head to go into full Admiral mode," Amelia protested, shooting a look over her shoulder at him. The grin he directed at her would have had a yellow canary feather sticking out if this had been an old earth cartoon.

Rochelle had been walking across the promenade, choosing to take the time necessary to shop in preparation for the ceremony to come, when she heard a man's booming voice roar across. She froze, lifting her head in the direction it had come in, her eyes quickly locating Amelia and then the Admiral. After the Whydah, stations of any kind and loud noises had been declared completely incompatible with her definition of comfort.

It was Amelia's response that set the Commander back in her comfort zone. They knew each other. Family, or so she assumed given the warmth in which they greeted. Content that there wasn't to be another incident, she settled back into her chosen routine, moving to step around a Klingon officer.

During a quick hug, that involved picking her father up so his boots cleared the deck, Amelia caught sight of Ivanova through the crowd. It reminded her of something she intended to harass her mother about.

"That was some modification you'd pulled on the safeties in the After Dark program," Amelia directed at her mother.

"Found that, did you?" A hand on a hip and a smirk indicated amusement. Amelia's father shook his head slowly, watching his wife and daughter square off in what was clearly a familiar manner.

"My commanding officer did, going after my stetson for me." Amelia couldn't help taking another look at Rochelle through the crowd, and her father's gaze followed.

"You served with her on the Griffin too, yeah?" Amelia's father asked, and started moving through the crowd towards the fiery Commander, not waiting for an answer. Amelia and her mother sighed in harmony, following after him.

There was something about the color black that seemed oddly fitting. It was fitting to her mood, perfect for her skin. Even the red of her hair seemed far more radiant against the deep pitch of it. Rochelle paused to look at a floor length gown offered by a vendor, reaching to pull it from it's hanger and hold it against her curves completely unaware of the intended interception until it was too late.

The cold blue of her eyes focused on the face of the older man looking over her shoulder. The Admiral that had bellowed for Pond, "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I'm sorry, Pond usually swans in by now to intercept me when she thinks I'm going to embarrass her," he said, shooting a look at the willowy red-head who was trying very hard to pretend she didn't know him. "Not that it was my intention to embarrass her. I had hoped she'd introduce me." He smiled.

The Commander drew in a breath before releasing it in a deep sigh. “I see. You must be Admiral Waterhouse.” She replied, letting the bodice of the gown fall and hook over her arm. It would do well enough – her edge of shopping had quickly diminished the moment she’d obtained an audience. Moving away from the mirror she turned to the merchant, one who looked between all members of the party with mounting concern. “Please have this sent to the USS Vindicator, care of Commander Ivanova.” She offered a smile, hopefully on consolation, to the merchant who was quick to nod and gather the gown from her.

“Tell me, Admiral, what brought you to this station? Surely you couldn’t have known the Vindicator was coming to port. Admiral Malone himself didn’t know up until just a few days ago and that sort of information doesn’t just trickle out during times like these.”

"My wife and I relocated here when Starfleet started regrouping after recent unfortunate events," he explained, shooting a look to his wife and daughter who appeared to be watching and chattering like a pair of school girls. "She has family in the area anyways, her mother and youngest brother lives on Qo'noS, so officially we left on leave. We're a little overdue back at Utopia Planitia, and I can't help but wonder how long it was before they noticed the missing fighter prototype... but Diziara insisted she didn't want to leave it behind when it was so close to being ready for manufacture for the fleet." Amelia and her mother finally joined them, Amelia offering an apologetic smile to Rochelle.

"Corey made me stop a test flight when I'd nearly found his pea, because he'd heard your ship was coming in," Diziara explained. "I was on its coat tails. This close," she insisted, holding her thumb and pointer finger about half a centimeter apart to emphasize the point. Corey just shook his head, mouthing out a 'no'.

A slender brow sat high, announcing to the world the Commander's confused and skeptical stance on the entire encounter. The Waterhouse clan, because that was truly what they were, were a strange and boisterous people often tied in with shenanigans and a degree of insanity that ran circles around Rochelle with their near incessant energy. Amelia was a prime example. The nun-chuck wielding part Klingon part tree woman was as high energy and strange as they came. Truly, though, they came with an element of fun that was simply unrivaled. "I see." The little woman said, folding her hands behind her with a smile.

"You leave glitches behind on purpose, Admiral? Or am I reading into this all wrong?" Rochelle's head tilted slightly as she shot a glance towards Pond, watching the young Intel officer squirm beneath the entire encounter. It was too good not to capitalize on at her expense. Too good.

"Nothing dangerous, just something subtle to keep my wife on her toes," Corey insisted, then leaned a little closer as if to share a secret, "If you were on the receiving end of some of the reports Diziara's given me over dinner, you'd throw something in to vex her too," he explained in a stage whisper.

"I think, since you've gotten high enough in the ranks your minions won't let you pick up a hyper spanner without pitching a fit, you've gotten lazy," Diziara accused with a smirk, moving closer to drape herself on her husband's shoulder. He shot a look up at her, even as he slid an arm around her waist.

"Maybe we should find a bar or restaurant," Amelia suggested, glancing at the merchant who's shop the group was blocking.

Rochelle looked to Amelia, eyeballing her warily before blowing a quiet sigh. She didn't have a valid excuse, not one that Pond wouldn't see through anyway, and as such quietly surrendered to her fate. "Lunch sounds like a plan to me." Ever gracious, she managed a smile, clasping her hands in front of her.

"There's this great place, just across the way... Freshest gagh I have ever tasted," Diziara suggested, instantly lighting up at the mention of lunch. Amelia grinned, even as Corey sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Rochelle might not like Klingon cuisine, Kitten," he protested, shooting the smaller red-head a hopeful look.

Catching the Admiral's eye, the tiny one nodded in agreement, "I can't say that I'm partial, unfortunately. Dining with me means dining on tamer fare. My apologies." She offered him a wink.

Corey favored her with a sly smile. "A Ferengi opened a something in the style of an old earth diner just yesterday. Trying to take advantage of the sudden influx of humans, I assume," he mentioned. "Actually smells right when I walked past after my briefing yesterday."

"Ooo, I wonder if they have malts," Amelia mused.

The Commander perked up at the thought of a malt. The succulent treat hadn't been one she'd indulged in for a long time, years to be exact. "Consider me sold, shall we?" She motioned with a hand towards the rest of the open promenade in gesture to her guests, for truly that's what they were. She knew, without a doubt, that the Lieutenant's family would be joining them on the Vindicator at least for a tour and aside from eating Klingon delicacies, she'd oblige them to the best of her abilities. It couldn't have come at a worse time — or was it a better time? Worn thin by Notura, maybe the high spirited shenanigans of Pond's family were what the doctor ordered to aid in healing her embattled soul.

=/\= END LOG =/\=

Rear Admiral Corey Waterhouse
Head of Fighter Design Team
In Transition

Captain Diziara
Fighter Test Pilot
In Transition

Commander Rochelle Ivanova
acting Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR

Lieutenant Amelia Waterhouse
Infiltration Specialist
USS Vindicator

 

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