Joint Duty Log | Capt Ivanova, Cmdr Grant - "Coming At You Like a Dark Horse"

Posted on Tue Sep 23rd, 2014 @ 5:32am by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Commander Logan Grant, PhD.

1,574 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Are You Touched?

It had been the middle of the night when she’d received the call, the seconds and hours idly ticking by into morning, and she’d been given no warning aside from a ‘Security to Ivanova. We found a Starfleet Officer claiming to be Commander Logan Grant, holding him in transporter room one.’

It had been all she could do to grab one of her light robes, explain the call to her Cardassian guardian that watched her every move, and take to the corridors. Her bare feet slapped against the decks as she ran, her robe billowing out behind her like a cape. The Captain in sweat pants and a tank top was enough to turn night shift heads, more so the look of hope written across her face as she ducked around a corner and onto the lift. “Transporter Room One!” She ordered.

Logan was a patient man at the best of times, but this was the worst of times. His wife and children were still stuck on that fucking planet with this fucking people. In short, fuck was becoming the idyllic word for the entire situation and one he seldom used. The station he’d been sent to for what was supposed to be a mere two week shake down had turned into a perfect storm of anguish resulting in evacuations and more. Noah Waterhouse had offered a cover, albeit ridiculous, but a cover. When they’d crashed, it had been yet another turn of events Hell bent on erasing what was left of the counselor’s sanity. Hope had all but extinguished itself.

Enter Starfleet stage right.

The team had come and at first the concern had been they were with Federation First, but that fear soon dissipated with rumors of Amelia Waterhouse being among their numbers. Hope flickered back if only faintly. The last time he’d dealt with the young officer she was as green as the grass and far from the mature woman Starfleet should have made her, but trustworthy and loyal. It was a decision he needed to make no matter what the possible outcome and, ultimately, when he’d revealed himself it had been a mess. In fact, it had been a complete wash of relief and anger all bound together with a neat cherry colored bow.

And now this.

He stood, heavy beard and torn, dirty shirt, on a transporter pad on what he hoped would be a ship of salvation. She was the USS Vindicator herself, the mighty beast that legends were written about even when he was but a greenhorn in the academy.

“Captain we can’t—“ A Lieutenant started and was quickly silenced by the rush of the little woman past him and into the room, her heart in her throat until she saw the gruff looking man on the pad. A smile immediately stole center stage and she released a heavy half laugh, half sigh of sheer relief and joy at seeing him. “Logan!” She exclaimed, racing to take her friend in her arms, hugging him tightly. He’d be the first confirmed survivor of her small inner circle and for that she would be forever grateful even if his presence made her heart lust and long for the safety of the others. They’d come. Dani wouldn’t fail, not now, not when she knew she was so close to success.

Logan! The shout of a familiar husky voice brought him away from where he’d been picking on one of his guards. They were all junior officers, fresh off the farm before the war, and scared out of their minds with the detail they’d pulled. The wild man standing there was a far cry from what one would expect to see of a civilized man, let alone a Starfleet Commander who had once been the executive officer of ships like Endeavour… Or a counselor. Definitely not a counselor, not with his wild green eyes and unkempt beard, but that was all to his advantage as he played the role of dutiful cult follower, blindly listening to crap about rum and a flying wad of noodles said to be a God.

There she was.

A vision in lounge wear, all five foot four inches of her, and she was streaking like a little crimson dart straight for him. He smiled brightly, laughing as he stooped to catch her hug, lifting her from her feet to spin her around. “Rochelle!” He greeted, kissing her cheek as he let her feet reach the pad once again. “Jesus Christ it’s been, what… Three years and it’s you who pulled me out of that craziness?!” The man was exasperated, holding her by her shoulders as he examined her face and the pretty blue of her eyes. She was so much more than an officer, so much more than a friend. Rochelle Ivanova was family.

For everything that had gone wrong, all of the hardship and misery, nothing would stop her from feeling happy in that moment. Happy; a five letter word ever so elusive. She smiled, basking in the glow of such an emotion as it surged over and claimed her entire little being. “If I had known you were down there we’d have come a lot sooner.” She replied as her feet hit the pad. The security officers shifted their weight uneasily, but relaxed all the same. It was completely apparent that their Captain knew the towering man they were guarding. If it hadn’t been for his wedding ring they likely would have thought he was yet another rumored lover.

“Computer, assign quarters to Commander Logan Mitchell Grant.” She called out and the computer beeped in compliance before reading out his deck and numbers much to the Captain’s great approval. “Come with me, let’s get you set up with a room and cleaned up.” Rochelle tugged gently on one of his hands, beckoning for him to follow her.

“You were right on time.” The Kiwi chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. Honesty wasn’t always the best policy; the last few months of his life had been absolute Hell on everything from his soul to his dapper physique. The idea of a shower and a shave came to appeal to his senses and he followed the little spitfire’s steps, carefully tailoring his long legged gait to keep in step with her.

Along the way to the drop off point at his quarters, the Captain and her friend spoke of many things. They spoke of how she'd spoken, albeit briefly, to Andrea, of the twins and Anne. Even Dani and her holoprogram came up as a topic. The conversation, however, paused briefly after she explained how and why she’d come to be the Captain of the Vindicator. It had been the reader’s digest version, barely anything more than ‘there was an incident, he died.’ Standing there at his door, Rochelle offered him another smile, warm and friendly. “And this is your stop.”

“Stop lying to yourself, Rochelle.” Logan’s voice, thick with the need for sleep, came as he peered down at her with a wrinkled brow. “I know you better than a lot of people, or are you forgetting that?” He asked as his arms folded across his chest, the rest of his body coming to rest against the ship’s bulkhead.

Taken aback, Rochelle frowned and shook her head. She’d hoped she wasn’t that transparent, that he’d put away the fact he was a ‘witchdoctor’ for at least a little while – long enough for him to settle in and get to know the Vindicator. “I don’t know what you—“

“Stop. Think about it. Start that answer again.”

She sighed, a heavy sigh and nodded, her eyes cast to the floor as her tongue worried her lower lip. “I’m handling it, Logan. I swear to you I am.”

He nodded. That would be an answer he’d accept for the time being. It showed that she was thinking about it and trying to resolve the hurt he knew came with losing a loved one. Rumors had been spread across the entire fleet about the pair of them, even Andrea had chuckled about it a time or two. They knew better, though, that Rochelle wasn’t an easy catch and how she’d fight the idea of love tooth and nail long before she’d give into it. The Trill had been someone special, an anomaly that had melted away Rochelle’s steely resolve and it showed, plain as day, written in the beautiful fathoms of her eyes. She was hurting and he’d be there for her to help her grieve. “Good.” He answered gruffly, opening the doors to his new home, “Now get some sleep.”

The little redhead nodded, finally looking back up at him and allowing herself to smile. “Sleep well, Logan, welcome home.” She patted him on the shoulder as she turned to take her leave. Now the task at hand was truly to reunite him with his family and to end the pain and suffering that was solicited by their distance. She’d do it. Dani would do it. But now? Rest would come to the crew of the Vindicator and their brave little Captain.

---

Captain Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR

&

Commander Logan Grant, PhD.
Counselor
USS Vindicator

 

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