PL | Commodore Ivanova - "Quod Somnia Veniat; Pt II"

Posted on Wed Dec 30th, 2015 @ 12:57am by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova
Edited on on Sun Jan 3rd, 2016 @ 10:34am

1,071 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Resurgere

Moments later, from the bridge of the mighty Pendragon, Almar watched with wet, oil black eyes as the once mighty USS Vindicator was returned to the stars by way of a massive explosion. The damage she’d sustained during her last battle had been irreparable, not even the ship’s frame could have hoped to have been salvaged. He swallowed hard as he watched the light show filter through the Pendragon’s main viewer, and though the vessel had backed away a substantial distance from her crippled sister, the shock wave sent a violent shudder through her very core. Burning bright as starlight, scattered and strewn about where the battle between the Federation and Romulan had transpired, nothing but memories – nothing more than ashes – remained of the stalwart ship.

Nothing more than horrors and pain.

It was better this way, the lone Cardassian thought, that Rochelle was carefully tucked away and under the care of the Pendragon’s physicians, unable to watch years of her life and the labors of her love and dedication go up in smoke. Had she seen it, a greater piece of her would have died that night – a part of her that he doubted could ever be resurrected. Not by him, not by Landon… Not by the Gods themselves. The point, however, that she had survived – that the future had been preserved by way of the rogue Vulcan Captain’s last minute arrival and salvage of all remaining crew – at least meant that there was hope. Hope that something could still be saved, that the legacy of the massive vessel could be recreated by the gentle and loving fingers of her resplendent mistress and those that loved and cherished the honor and virtues her name extolled.

It was a hope that was soon dashed to shards by the grim words of Death. Not the death of Rochelle Ivanova, but rather the death of the Federation as a whole. The attack on the Vindicator had only been one small casualty that fated night. A very, very small casualty when compared to the litany of horrors written out and exposed as night became day in the darkest reaches of space. As a whole, the Federation was gone; annihilated by a task force construed of enemies new and old – and all of them had risen beneath the manipulative and masterful hand of Vrith Tr’Bak. No longer was the madman a simple Ael’Riov who picked on blustery Commodores and their crews, he’d sent his own Praetor to her death like a lamb to slaughter and stood to coronate himself as the uncontested Caesar. Earth was now his strong hold, however badly it burned beneath the weight of the sins he’d committed, and all of Federation space bowed deeply before him on bruised and bloodied knees.

Hiding on the Pendragon, they knew it was only a matter of time before he sent forth his retinue to capture what had so badly eluded him; the Commodore who refused to yield and yet had come so close to bowing to his glory in much the same way that the rest of her people had.

It seemed impossible, inconceivable that one mere mortal could have orchestrated the fall of an empire that had taken hundreds of years to build, to love, and to nurture, but in one night their proverbial Rome had been burnt to embers. One incomprehensible night filled with actions so deeply interlocked by blood soaked threads of scabrous manipulation and imputable, hostile precision of an almost surgical nature had found them wanting after being weighed and measured by Tr’Bak’s cruelly swayed scales of justice. Worse? It left them with little choice and little room to operate. With bounties on their collective heads, and nary a trustworthy hand in sight, the decision was one that left a bitter taste across the tongue and lips of a battle weary Rochelle as she uttered the command;

Atlantis Prime.

There she was Queen, and no matter how badly she disliked the title or the weight of the crown that would rest upon her tired brow, they would be safe, sheltered from the storm in a world and system in which no one, not even a power thirsty Romulan, would dare wage a war of any kind. The sector in and of itself was hostile, sneering in bold threat of trapping any who dared trespass, or toil, within it so very far from their homes in a galaxy over run by technology that hadn’t yet been categorized or referenced by even the Federation. Governed by a race more ancient than time itself, the entire galaxy, let alone its core world, was both beautiful and treacherous… It was perfect.

In a strategic show of courage, Vokar had chosen to stay behind with a contingency of his crew. A ship as large as the Pendragon was too great a risk to keep within charted space given how high profile she was in nature, even with the benediction and foreboding promise of the Vanguard soundly backing her ever move. With the destruction of the Vindicator, and the evisceration of the Federation – and likely the most septs of the Vanguard – as a whole, she had become more of a liability than an asset, but would comfortably facilitate the safe passage of the Federation’s last best hope on their inglorious dash for safe footing. The truth, however, was undeniable from the word “Engage.” They were running. Every last one of them, with their tails tucked, were running scared, quiet, but as fast as the aging Pendragon would allow for without blowing her cores and sending them hurtling head first further into ruin.

It was deep in the bowels of the old ship that Almar found momentary salvation while Rochelle nursed her injured body and spirit in the confines of the command chair – a perch that felt as if it were upholstered by thousands of thorn vined roses; bittersweet and far from the comfort that it should have been. It was a reminder, however, that with each passing star came the renewed hope of life… Life with liberty of some fundamental kind – though she knew they’d be living more in a gilded cage than in Freedom’s beautiful open palms.


---
To Be Continued...
---

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

All other characters used with loving permission, APB October

 

RSS Feed