JPL | COM. Ivanova, Cmdr. Dahe'el - "I Was Looking For a Soft Place to Fall" pt. III/V

Posted on Sat Jan 10th, 2015 @ 12:51pm by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova

2,195 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: A Spot To Kill

Watching her leave and her half joke about what might befall someone in these conditions tore slightly at the nerves of the Cardassian as he buttoned the jacket and hefted the axe in one hand. Its weight leant him a smile and forced his feet towards the back door. That side of the house was sheltered slightly and he was able to open the door and set himself up to chop wood with relative supinity.

The axe shed its leather sheath and rose with ease, its head coming down in a large sweeping arc on the standing log and splitting it right down the center. The two halves were picked up and one stood in the same spot, again the axe rose and fell, cleaving it in two and a rhythm was steadily set.

---

The town of Crown King was surprisingly active and the sight of cars and lights at the saloon and general store were a welcomed one as Rochelle carefully turned the old truck onto Main Street and over an old bridge. The creek beneath would be frozen solid, Horse Thief Lake likely sharing the same fate that time of year. Modern conveniences had mostly been voted out by the town counsel, replicators used only in times of emergency and transporter use was limited only to Starfleet and emergency response personnel.

"Welcome home, Miss Ivanova." And older gentleman, someone she vaguely remembered from the grand re-opening of the restaurant at the old Mill, tipped his hat to her as she slid carefully from the truck's tattered driver seat. "Thank you." She responded as her feet hit the snowy ground rather roughly. With so much ice around, she didn't quite trust the running boards, especially not in sandals. It was her choice of footwear that earned a couple shaking heads and a chuckle or two as she jogged from where she'd parked up onto the store's big wooden porch. The Wild West feel of the town hadn't died; they were still mainly stuck in the twenty-first century and seemed to want to stay that way.

Inside it was bright and warm, filled with music from the adjoining old saloon. The thought to drive back up the mountain to grab Almar briefly crossed her mind, but she knew he'd be irritated at the prospect of leaving the fire he was likely fighting with. Work always came first. Always. It had been the biggest reason why she hadn't ever allowed things to progress beyond what it had. Cuddles. Comfort. Long talks in the night. She'd given him chances, lined him up to come clean about whatever he felt -- and he hadn't. Nothing. Just a 'This feels right'. She'd needed more to come away feeling clean. And now? Guilt. It hung heavy in her heart as she pushed a snow covered strand of hair back away from her eyes and set about grabbing basic supplies for the night.

"How long are you staying this time?" The attendant asked from over a low shelf and Rochelle picked up her own eyes to meet theirs, startled by the intrusion into her thoughts.

"Tomorrow mid-day, I think." She replied with a polite smile, "We're only on a brief leave to tie up loose ends after the war. I trust it wasn't too bad here?" She asked, gesturing to the town in general. The attendant chuckled and shook their head, rounding the counter to approach the little redhead.

"No, sure didn't." He replied, coming to lean against the end cap, watching as she picked through produce he'd had brought in from Prescott earlier in the day. "They didn't think to come on up these hills. What would the point be? There's nothing up this way aside from Bumble Bee and Cleator... Maybe Cordes. Nothing of any military value seeing as you were out there doing your thing."

"My thing?" Rochelle couldn't help but asked, truly amused, and set a rather lovely pair of Portobello caps in her basket.

The attendant smiled brightly, "We saw you on the T.V." He explained, gesturing to the screen up in the corner, it was broadcasting news from Phoenix -- something about the weather and an impending blizzard for the high country that would be a blessing for Flagstaff's economy. Rochelle paled a bit, "Saw your big promotion and to do out in New York. They were saying how it was interesting to watch our very own royal continue military service even though they could just go escape to whatever planet it is you run." He continued, pausing in obvious thought, "Atlantis? is it?"

Forcing herself to steady her hands, Rochelle nodded, "Yeah. It's Atlantis." She replied. Jesus, was that really her voice? It sounded like sand paper had been taken to it. The cold running of fear and adrenaline raced up her throat and fanned out over her tongue so bad it was physically painful to talk. The Trill knew more than just rumor, she thought, they knew for a fact that Landon was alive at the same time as Tristan. It was all the fodder they’d need to do any number of things to demand from Admiral Red one or both of the brothers. She choked as her mouth ran dry and the attendant furrowed his brows at her, reaching to pluck a leaf from a mint sprig and offered it to her.

“You ain’t got to worry any, Commodore. You’re safe up here from the press. They can’t get past the I-17 with the weather and it’s not like we’re going to sell you out.” He practically boasted, “We’re just real proud of you. You’ve always been a great neighbor, helped re-build the Mill when she burnt down. Brought a lot of faith back when we heard that you were one of the survivors of the war.” He smiled.

Rochelle smiled weakly as she took the offered mint, sticking it in her mouth. It would help with the sick feeling that had started to bubble in the pit of her stomach. The fact she was safe and sound in Crown King made her wonder whether or not Landon, Tristan, and Zed would be safe there. Convincing them to stay put would be another story entirely, but she wondered openly. Every citizen of Crown King was human, though. She’d nearly brought Almar down, but would the fact he – they – weren’t human make a difference? The town could be extremely backwards, but it was still sleepy and innocent. She knew she couldn’t bring such Hell to their doorstep like what the Symbiosis Commission would raise to try and find the Neyes brothers. “Thank you, Bud. It’s good to know I still have a place to hide my face from time to time.” She finally replied and tried to turn her attention to the selection of fish that was offered.

“Any time.” Bud nodded, “Another helpful tip? Take the trout. The Fria hasn’t frozen over completely yet. My son and his buddies caught them this afternoon so they’re probably the best thing in there.” He grinned, proud of yet another local staple. The streams and creeks were packed full of the fish from the Bradshaws on through the Grand Canyon some two hundred and fifty or so miles north and west, but the ones filleted and sitting on ice there, were from Crown King itself.

“Good tip, thanks again.” She replied with a grateful nod as she bent to take up the cellophane covered package of fresh fish and followed the flannel clad Bud up to the register to check out.

---

Kneeling at the fireplace, there were smoldering embers in the base, a full basket of sticks and a whole stack of logs, all waiting to be used.

Taking some of the sticks, Almar built the fire and stood slowly to admire his handy work as the embers caught and burnt up into the sticks, crackling and spitting sparks that heralded a growing wave of warmth that washed over the Cardassian as he began removing the jacket he had borrowed.

The truck had struggled without chains and four wheel drive, but somehow managed to make it back up the steep switchbacks that lead to the cabin. Rochelle had been concerned a couple of times when the empty bed of the pick-up had fish tailed sideways towards the precarious ledge side of the road. So many vehicles had gone off before; they simply stopped putting up caution rails and had taken to sticking reflective markers down instead. Saving steel, that's what they'd called the process. She hadn't agreed with it, one of the times she'd thought that force field technology should have been allowed and readily employed. Pulling back into her driveway and under the port had been a relief. Getting back out into the snow with packages, however, had not. She half jogged, half slid until a sandal gave out and deposited her on her ass and iced over concrete, just shy of her steps, with nothing more than a four letter word and a yelp in retribution. The packages, however, had made it safe with nothing to break or screw up as they hit the snow banks on either side of her. Getting back up, she was more careful to stiff leg a walk the entire way in. Crushed snow fell from her hip and the round of her rear with every step, leaving wet tracks as evidence against the denim of her jeans.

"I got dinner. Looks like they're calling for quite a storm tonight." She announced as she closed the door behind her, the tip of her nose and apples of her cheeks bright red from the biting cold.

As soon as she came to a halt, Almar was with her and draping a blanket over her shoulders, "Hit some ice on the way in did you?" he asked with a slight hint of sarcasm as he took the packages from her and started making his way towards the kitchen. "Get yourself warmed up, the fire seems to have worked out quite well." he added, gesturing towards the now roaring fire.

"You could say that. Saying that the ice mugged me would be more accurate." As she'd suspected, the sandal was toast. The strap around her ankle had snapped when the sole had found traction but the inertia of her falling body had already married gravity and sent her down regardless. Coat off, blanket on, Rochelle deposited the destroyed set of shoes and paused to eye the inviting sight of the fire. The sound of it cracking and popping as it destroyed any and all moisture in the wood brought a genuine smile to her. "You did an amazing job." She called to his retreating form in response.

Almar's company won over the delicious warmth of the fire and saw her padding across the heated floor on frozen feet. The wet jeans would have to wait, she was brilliantly reminded, as she pulled herself up onto a counter top next to where the Cardassian was working. "I was thinking stuffed mushroom caps and poached fish. Unless Dani grabbed it, there's always cooking wine in this house." Rochelle offered as she leaned to wash her hands in the sink to her left, hardly caring that she'd chosen to take up prime kitchen real estate. "Call it a joint project?" She asked without looking up from her task. Warm water felt good to frigid finger tips once the initial burn was gone.

"Don't you think you should get changed, dry off and warm up first?" the Cardassian replied, his brow arched as he watched her hop up onto the counter and deposit herself right next to where he was unpacking, "It won't take more than a few minutes and you'll feel much better for it."

"What if I told you that one doesn't simply just get changed?" Rochelle challenged, "That there's probably a fist sized bruise starting and the ice cold jeans are offering compression?" Turning off the water, she was quick to steal a dish towel hanging by the stove for her hand drying needs. Gingerly she tugged up and folded her legs to be able to sit 'Indian-style', watching him with earnest interest.

"It wouldn't surprise me," Almar responded with a slight chuckle, "From the sounds you made, you did have quite an impact when you hit the ice," he added as he busied himself about the kitchen and grabbing the implements and seasonings he'd need for the dish.

With a soft huff, she shook her head at him. "More surprise and not being able to catch myself. We'll call it bruised ego and just leave it at that. I'd rather not bare my ass for someone to play doctor." Shifting her weight to one hip relieved some of the building pressure. The more her posterior warmed up, the more it smarted.

Like something else she knew.

Several somethings.

-- Continued in Part IV --

Commodore Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NCC 78213-E

&

Commander Almar Dahe’el
Chief Engineering Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NCC 78213-E

 

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