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

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

2,018 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: A Spot To Kill

"Almar..." She started, studying her hands instead of the man as he moved around the kitchen, "Bud..." Rochelle stopped and sighed with a shake of her head. He wouldn't have any clue who the Hell Bud was, the name was a meaningless noun. "The gentleman that runs the general store, he surprised the Hell out of me tonight." That was much better, but her fingers knit together in her defrosting lap, "Someone broadcast the entire award ceremony on live television. I don't know why, I guess it was a feel good moment after the war." She shrugged, "Everything's out. Landon being alive. Atlantis Prime. Everything. Admiral Red had to have known, she just never said anything and Hark... Jesus... He must be livid."

"We did kind of make it a huge occasion," the Cardassian replied with a sidelong glance to her as he began working the fish, "I think you should expect to be called into the principal’s office, although I might remind you that Admiral Hark was present, perhaps someone caught wind of him gatecrashing our party and wanted to get it all down? Show him in a light different from that of warrior, from what I've heard he's spent the best part of a year in the Klingon Empire, hard image to wash off back in the Federation."

Principal's office. The term made her wince, but she knew what was coming and she'd stand up to it just the same. There was nothing to defend, it was a flamboyant homecoming party with the bells and ribbon trimmings of Christmas wrapped around it. "I know... He's a big man, one of the more impressive Admirals." She murmured with a shrug. "Doesn't quite fit the part of the savage the media tries to make him out to be, so you could be right that someone got the spin and was trying to shed the better light on the man." She said, looking back up to watch the Cardassian's hands as he worked, "Either way... I'd hate to be on the wrong side of right with him and I'm afraid of what he'll order concerning Landon and Tristan. There hasn't been a word in response to my reports. Not even from Admiral Red."

"Politics, my dear Rochelle, they'll have read your reports as soon as they came in, but then they have to deal with the Federation Council, the oversight committee and then the Trill government and the Symbiosis Commission," the Cardassian responded as he slid the fish to one side for a few moments, "Where did you say the wine should be?"

"Politics." The word was sour and sounded as much as it left her mouth and her head shook. "Cabinet to the left of the fridge is a wine rack." She replied, gesturing to it with a pointed index finger. "It's not fair to keep people in limbo like this, not when they know its life or death. All Admiral Red has really said is what I told you earlier, that she knows the Symbiosis is looking and wanting and demanding." Her tongue soothed along her lower lip, "That we should head to Atlantis Prime to handle that mess because it would take the heat of the Symbiosis Commission off of us for a little while."

"Has she contacted you and given any orders yet?" Almar asked as he retrieved the bottle of wine, returned to his station and collected a pan, "I trust she has at least contacted you to tell you where we're headed?"

"Had breakfast with her." Rochelle nodded, "that's when she made her suggestion, I accepted, she said she'd make it an official order and have it on DuPont's desk by tonight. We're going to Atlantis Prime."

"At least you know what's happening," was the reply as the Cardassian placed a lid on the pan and lifted the bottle to the light, "No sense keeping this around, got a pair of glasses?" he asked as he placed it down on the counter again.

The only response the redhead gave was the pointing of a single finger to the cabinets that lined the wall above her over the sink.

Stepping to one side, Almar came to stand directly in front of the young redhead. He reached up for the cabinet and selected a pair of glasses, handing one down to her and placing the other next to her on the counter, the remains of the bottle were split between the two glasses before being deposited away for recycling at a later date.

Watching him, she tucked her knees back and wiggled further away from the edge to give him room and did her damnedest not to hit or impair him. "I envy your ability to just reach up and pick up those glasses." She admitted rather sheepishly, studying the glass and the wine within it. "Normally I have to use a chair or hop up on the counter's edge to get them down." If she was honest with herself, she envied him for a lot of things.

"There are times when I'd love to be your height too," the Cardassian replied with a slight smile, "Sometimes, that little Ferengi, Zola, has it so much easier, when you're 6'1" you can occasionally struggle in some of the smaller crawlspaces on our ship, what I'd give to be a little smaller, to be able to get right into the tight spaces to fix things."

"You'd tire of it real fast when you couldn't reach a simple glass or started having to take flying leaps to make it into bed." The redhead chuckled and brought her glass to her lips and took a sip. The Riesling was sweet, sharp, delicate -- descriptions she normally would never try and put to food, and she'd only purchased it to cook with. The warmth it brought was a welcomed reprieve from the cold and the worry that tirelessly gnawed at her bones.

"I don't know, like I said I think it would be handy," Almar replied with a light chuckle as he followed suit and took a sip of the wine, "Not bad, it’s a shame we used the rest of it in cooking," he added as he gestured around slightly, "So, what else needs doing for this culinary masterpiece?"

Rochelle simply rolled her eyes at him, and took to studying her own glass with new interest. "It's from a vineyard near Sedona. Who knew grapes love the desert?" It was more than that, she knew. The vineyard tour guide had practically begged her to marry him in between mouthfuls of information about volcanic ash being nutrient rich as if a science lesson would instantly woo her. She'd bought the bottle out of misplaced guilt and it had sat until she'd been ready to cook with it. Looking up, she pointed to the mushroom caps. "My turn to cook, your turn to sit." She grinned and hopped down from her perch, wincing as the shock rippled up her leg, through her thigh, and up into her hip. Definitely a bad bruise.

"I think I'll have a slightly more traditional perch," the Cardassian replied as he reached over and pulled a chair to sit on. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and cradled the glass in his hands as he regarded her, "Are you sure you don't want to get a regenerator on that before it fills out?"

"Suit yourself." Rochelle shrugged and set off to handle the Portobello caps. "If I did it means I'd have to bare ass to Rotek, and while I adore the man, I don't adore the idea." She strained in reply, pushing herself up on tip toe to free a bottle of balsamic vinegar from a higher cabinet.

"Rumors have it that you're not his type," Almar replied as he took another sip of his wine and let out a light chuckle, "Want a hand there?"

"I know for a fact I'm not his type. That doesn't make me any more inclined to pull up my skirt and say 'kiss it better?'. Not this boo boo." She snorted, finally resorting to jumping and balancing the flat of her stomach against the very edge of the granite counter to use as leverage. The lift was just enough to allow her to tip the bottle towards her. Grabbing it as it fell, she unbeached herself and held up her trophy. "Nope. I got it." If she looked at him, she'd have likely blushed crimson.

"Yes, but he is a doctor and as we all know, Captain's are very rarely patients. By their own determining, it’s as if when one reaches the rank or position, they instantly gain a new dislike of the medical staff," Almar replied as he finished the glass and placed it on the counter.

"I've never willingly gone to doctors." She shuddered as she began mincing garlic, carefully avoiding the destruction of her fingers. "Doctor or no doctor, I'm not having it looked at. Amelia has a regenerator hidden somewhere. I'll borrow it from her when we're back on the ship and deal with it then."

"That sounds like a fair compromise," was the reply that accompanied a smile from the Cardassian, "She really is a fountain of usefulness, I can see where she gets it from though, her parents are both quite... unique."

An eyebrow arched and a chuckle rolled, "Unique is a good word."

"I think it's about the only word that can be used to accurately describe that family," Almar replied with a matching chuckle, "I don't think I've ever seen such a diverse mix of personalities and species in one family."

"Pretty obvious that her mother wants a piece of you." Rochelle mused out loud, her lips a terse line and hidden by her position at the counter as she began spooning her mix of cheeses and garlic into the mushroom caps. Diziara was a lot of things, sexually charged and shameless being two of her less refined attributes, but her most apparent.

"I think I'd wager that her husband wouldn't mind one bit either," Almar replied quickly, "Although he seems a little more interested in the Vindicator herself,"

"Well," She said, setting each cap on a baking sheet and working to set them in the oven without burning herself, "I'd wager to say he isn't welcome to either, even though I can only honestly speak for the Vindicator."

"Noone is welcome to me, without my prior invitation," the Cardassian replied with a laugh that developed from the pit of his stomach, "I'm perfectly happy to let him have a look around the Vindicator though, hes a man after my own heart in that regard, he sees her as more than just a ship."

Looking over her shoulder at him, Rochelle hoisted an eyebrow high. "prior invitations?" She dared to ask, pussyfooting along that razor sharp edge, when everything was neatly tucked away and cooking nicely. Then the lithe young Commodore tucked her thumbs in her jean pockets and rested her weight up against the counter to the left of the stove, waiting for his answer and doing her best to keep from smirking.

"The only person I've ever let get that close to me has been you Rochelle, I'm entirely a private man and I'm not afraid to admit that," the Cardassian replied with a soft smile, "It just takes quite a long time for me to trust anyone like that, to let anyone get that close."

Rochelle's chin tipped up as she considered what he said, "The only person?" She asked and pushed away from the counter in favor of washing her hands again. "I find that hard to believe, Almar." The redhead drawled, looking over at him with a sardonic little smile, trying to absorb the information she'd been fed. The Cardassian was a mystery, so unlike everyone and anything else she'd ever met.

-- Continued in Part V --

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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