JL | Com Ivanova, LtCmdr Desmond, Amara - CO, COps, Civilian | "New Beginnings"

Posted on Sat Jul 15th, 2017 @ 4:26am by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Lieutenant Commander Matthew Desmond

3,262 words; about a 16 minute read

Mission: Ballynamony

=/\= Starfleet Command, Transporter Room 2 =/\=

After stopping by the quartermaster's office where Amara selected on the skirt and uniform shirt options, including dress uniforms which she was wearing now, Commander Desmond and Amara found themselves in the transporter room. Desmond was nervous to say the least. He hadn't served on a starship in almost three years. He wasn't even sure why he had been requested for the Vindicator. It made him very uneasy. Amara could sense that.

"Matthew?" she said, her voice soft and soothing, "are you feeling OK, my beloved?"

Desmond nodded, "Of course, I'm feeling OK, Amara....I just...I've only actively served on two starships...my initial training and rating cruise after graduation from operations school, and then an advanced cruise on the Enterprise. Special operations is all I know, and honestly...I think this is going to be a lot different than the destroyer duty I did a few years ago."

Amara smiled, "My beloved...I have all the confidence in you...I am so excited to be coming with you...this will be....different."

Desmond nodded again, it would be different for her. On Zeta Latari she was a princess, the youngest daughter of King Imbrius, monarch of the entire planet. While they were relatively new to the technology game, they much preferred to stay close to home until a terrorist group called United Technology Front tried to bring technology to this proud, warrior race in order to enlist their help to over throw the Federation. It almost seemed like a joke when his team was given the assignment to work with the indigenous culture to fight back against UTF. His mind started to wander and then he snapped himself out of it.

"Of course, my beloved. This is all going to be new and exciting. Come along now, we mustn't keep the Commodore waiting."

=/\= Bridge, U.S.S. Vindicator =/\=

Commander Desmond and Amara stepped off the turbolift and on to the bridge of the Vindicator. Desmond was rather impressed by the layout of the bridge, and had forgotten just how intoxicating it could be to be on the bridge of a starship. His eyes glanced over to where his station would be, and he smiled. This was going to be their new home. He half expected the crew to gawk at Amara, but nobody seemed to pay much attention. He breathed in an inward sigh of relief, he was almost expecting her tiara to be too much with the uniform.

"May I help you, Sir?" asked the officer sitting in the captain's chair.

Desmond nodded, "Good morning, Lieutenant, I'm here to report in to Commodore Ivanova."

"The Captain is in her ready room."

Desmond nodded his thanks, "Thank you, Lieutenant" and they walked to the ready room, and pressed the chime, from the other side, he heard the call to come in.

=/\= Ready Room =/\=

As Lieutenant Commander Desmond and Amara entered the ready room, Desmond had a split second to decide how he wanted to play this....he decided that he would be as professional as possible. He stopped in front of the Captain's desk, stood at attention and looked six inches above her head.

"Commodore Ivanova, Lieutenant Commander Matthew Desmond reporting as ordered with company of one and requesting permission to come aboard, Ma'am."


In all of her years in Command, Rochelle had never seen a crew member come aboard and meet the Commanding Officer with their plus one. It was a novelty she wasn't exactly sure she liked - especially when that plus one showed up in uniform while sporting a tiara. A single russet brow quirked high over over one eye as she regarded the pair standing in front of her Pietersite desk and truly, for at least a half minute, she was unsure of how to proceed. When at last she'd found her tongue, she cleared her throat and sat back in her chair. "Permission granted, take a seat." She said, allowing formality to win for the moment. Almar was going to be intrigued by this one, James as well. "I received your transfer orders about a week ago, Commander Desmond, but I wasn't aware that you'd be bringing another officer aboard. Care to explain?"

Desmond raised an eyebrow at that, he wasn't even sure a week ago that he would be reinstated to active duty, so it was a welcome sign that perhaps his mental condition was better than he had been lead to believe it was. He and Amara took the seats as requested.

"Ma'am, I am not quiet sure how to explain it myself. I was advised by Vice Admiral Caron that I had been specifically requested to come aboard as your Chief Operations Officer. However..." he paused, realizing just how ignorant he was being right now and not showing his manners, "may I present, Amara, Princess of Atlantis, Heir to the Throne of Zeta Latari, Commander of the Queen's Guard....and....as of about an hour and a half ago.... was ordered to be an Acting Lieutenant Commander in Starfleet, by order of Rear Admiral James Horan of Starfleet Medical, the orders must be confirmed by you first, of course...and Admiral Caron hinted that if you were agreeable to it...she would be granted a full commission."

Amara looked at Commodore Ivanova, "I know this must be extremely unorthodox to your customs, and truthfully, this is not something I would have ever expected...until I met Commander Desmond a year and a half ago, I didn't even know that others existed from beyond the stars. When your ship the U.S.S. Ranger arrived at Zeta Latari almost seven months ago, I knew I couldn't stay on my planet knowing that Commander Desmond needed me...we've grown...." she paused looking for the right words, "we've come to have an intense closeness that I cannot explain...all I know is that when we rescued him from that prison camp, he was a broken man...broken mentally, physically, spiritually...I have been working with the healers at your Starfleet Medical Center to try and help him through this," Amara glanced down at the uniform she was wearing and realized that she felt extremely uncomfortable in it, "please forgive my wearing of this uniform...I believe it was thought that if I was made an officer that would allow me to be onboard this ship. I will do whatever you ask of me, and serve in whatever capacity you ask of me...I only ask that you allow me to prove myself."

Desmond wanted to look at the floor, he wanted to be anywhere but here. He absently brushed his hand across the unit patch on his shoulder from his special forces position, remembering that it was this that brought him to this point. He tried to look as if what she said didn't bother him, but it was true, he had been an extremely broken man, but he felt like he was ready to move forward with his career, with Amara at his side.

Silence hung heavy and humid in the air of the ready room. The only thing that broke it was the steady ticking of the early 20th century clock that took up the corner to the left of the Commodore's stone top desk. Rochelle's lips were pursed as she considered their words - her fingers coiling to bring her perfectly manicured nails into her palms as the woman had the gall to speak out of turn. Princess, or not, the Commodore was the Queen of her ship - and an Atlantis of a far different sort... One she'd rather not speak of, or the bronze skinned Atlanteans that still mourned the fact that their late crowned Prince had bonded to a woman of human blood. Her eyes found themselves jumping between the pair of them before they settled on Desmond and demanded his attention, the bright arctic hue of them boring into his as she bit her lower lip and shook her head. "I'm... No. I'm not going to sugar coat this. I'm going to tell you what I think and how I think it and why." She began, pushing away from her desk to get to her feet.

Rochelle Ivanova-Irelle was a woman of short stature, but the way she held herself made her seem as if she were double or triple her height. She was elegant, sophisticated, but her posture now was rigid and tense as she fought the way her temples began to throb and the blood boiled in the artery that ran the length of her creamy throat. She knew if she remained sitting that she was liable to explode, standing gave the pair a fighting chance to avoid more than a caustic hissing as she dressed them down.

"I don't answer to Vice Admiral Caron or Rear Admiral Horan. I answer to Admiral Red. No Vice. No Rear. Just Admiral. I do, however, listen to suggestion and cherry pick through their recommendations. You were suggested to me for this ship's crew, Lieutenant Commander, because you were thought to deserve a chance. I'll make it known that the USS Vindicator is not the island of misfit toys. We're a crew of the most elite minds that Starfleet has ever gathered and we are constantly running the gauntlet when it comes to any variety of enemies. There's a reason why we were given a brand new class that we, not Starfleet Engineering, hand designed - and that reason has nothing to do with bringing aboard strays in tiaras and honorary ranks." Her eyes snapped towards Amara and then back to Desmond, "That said, I will not shame my crew by giving Princess Buttercup a full commission. That's an insult to the men and women who have fought and schooled and served tirelessly for their ranks and their commissions on this boat and others. I don't want to hear another word about it because, simple facts, she doesn't have the clearances to work about this vessel. What she will do, however, is accompany you to your quarters and apply to the Academy for a 'learn while you work' program, or to the nearest airlock and umbilical leading back to the station with my regards to Caron and Horan in a PADD stuffed into her seabag. YOU will never pull a stunt like this again and will obtain preauthorization for any and all visitors that you intend to bring aboard my ship. Green?"

Desmond stiffened at the Commodore's words, and he decided probably incorrectly to try and defuse the situation, but he felt like he had to try. "Ma'am, I apologize for the utter incompetence on display here. I would like to respectfully remind the Commodore that in my career, I've been involved in more situations caused by stupidity from those who somehow managed to work their way up the ranks and in to high positions within Starfleet Command," he felt the anger rising inside of him, a feeling he hadn't felt in ages, "it was then Rear Admiral Caron who ordered my team to Zeta Latari, a planet he views the inhabitants of as absolute savages...I don't know why either Admiral Caron or Admiral Horan would order Amara to be commissioned. She is eager to learn and will serve you and this crew faithfully. Perhaps my way of introducing you to her was a bit...."

He paused for a moment, looking for the words, "unorthodox? But I can assure you, it was not a stunt...I merely assumed that since my orders came directly from Starfleet Command, that Amara was authorized to come aboard as well. It appears that I was mistaken in my trust of these Senior Officers. Ma'am, if you will permit, I would like to request that you fully endorse Amara's application for the Academy's "learn while you work program", he glanced over at Amara, he could tell that she was not used to be addressed in this manner, but she was taking it in stride, "I sincerely apologize for bringing her aboard in this fashion. While she might be royalty on Zeta Latari, I recognize that she is not royalty onboard this ship, and I believe she recognizes it as well. If you prefer her to remove her symbols of Zeta Latarian royalty, she will comply with your request. I know that she doesn't view herself as better than anyone else aboard this ship, I know she is eager to learn, ma'am."

Desmond felt himself relax for a moment, "Truth be told ma'am, I feel a bit lost aboard ship. I've spent the better part of the last decade shuffling around from back water world to back water world, fixing problem after problem...I'm ready for some stability, ma'am, and I think that Amara would help with that stability."

"Can the sob story. I'll put it this way, Desmond, she's not the only royal walking around the ship - but you don't see me flaunting my crown, do you?" The redhead hissed and instantly regretted it. It was none of his damned business who was what or where or how. What he needed to know was that she was the apex predator aboard the ship, and that should and would have been enough to suffice. "You were brought aboard to do a job. A very specific job. You weren't brought here to rock the boat, make waves, or whine. Her?" A single thumb hiked in 'Buttercup's' direction, "I'm still flabbergasted as to why anyone would assume anything. I don't have her marching orders on my desk because she doesn't have any aside from the ones I just gave you. And I'm going to add more to your plate..." The headache was become worse, pounding and pulsing in her temples and now back behind those piercing baby blues of hers as it reached a crescendo, "You will send word to the morons that sent you here that I am displeased. You will then direct them to speak immediately with Admiral Red down in Cheydinhall."

and then there was silence, albeit brief, as she took her seat and pinched the bridge of her nose. If she could have, she'd have flipped her desk - in retrospect that was likely the reason why Landon, James, and Almar had been so eager to see it installed instead of something lighter. "You lot have two weeks to apply for that program. When they ask me for my thoughts, I will give them and they will be my honest thoughts because I owe you nothing more and nothing less. In the meantime, the regalia will be stored away and you will both keep your heads down. She will answer to you and you will answer to Commander Dahe'el and myself directly. Should there be a hiccup, you're both gone." Rochelle pointed at them with her index and middle fingers split in a perfect 'V'.

Desmond nodded, "Ma'am, it would be my great pleasure to send word to Admiral's Horan and Caron that you are extremely displeased and that they are to speak to Admiral Red. I will further make sure that we meet with Commander Dahe'el. We're not here to make waves, rock the boat, tell sob stories, or anything of the sort. I'm here to do a job, and I will do it to the best of my abilities, I serve at the pleasure of Commodore Rochelle Ivanova, and that's not a responsibility or a privilege that I take lightly, ma'am. We're grateful for the opportunity to be here."

Amara looked at the Commodore, then to the Commander, and then back to the Commodore and removed the tiara from her head. "Of course, ma'am. I completely understand, again, I apologize for putting you and the Commander in this awkward situation," she put her tiara on the Commodore's desk, "I don't need this, Commodore Ivanova. I am grateful for the opportunity to serve at your pleasure."

"Then we're on the same page aside from the fact that you serve me through Starfleet." the firebrand was quick to retort before she was distracted by the sharp sparkle of the tiara as it came to rest on her desk. Immediately an eyebrow went up as she studied it and eventually picked it up, "While your sovereignty will wind up coming to an end if you stay with Starfleet and your homeworld joins the Federation, I'm not going to be the one that takes this from you." Rochelle sighed, turning her wrist and handing the jeweled headpiece back to the woman on the other side of the desk, "Take it. I suggest you put it somewhere safe in your quarters... Which reminds me, I need to reassign you as there's now a duo and instead of a single." She drawled, snagging a PADD from within the confines of her desk and practically slapping it awake. There wasn't another sound uttered from her as she worked, recalculating and reassigning - working to correct the faux pas set upon her.

Amara took the tiara from the Commodore and set it in her lap, "Thank you, Commodore Ivanova. I know that my sovereignty isn't recognized anywhere outside of my homeworld. It might be years before we are able to join the Federation, but as the first of my people to leave our planet, I look forward to learning more about the Federation and Starfleet. Do you have a preference as to what I should be doing onboard?"

"Learning." Came the redhead's simple answer as she finished her work.

Desmond looked at the Commodore, "Ma'am, I thank you for understanding in all of this and working through this with us. I will report to Commander Dahe'el immediately with Amara, and we will get settled in. Again, I want to thank you for the opportunity to serve you. Do you have any further recommendations for us?"

Sliding the Padd across the polished stone, Rochelle once more looked Desmond in the eye, "Keep your head down, do justice to your duty, and don't make me regret this." She replied sharply, though a hint of resignation had crept into the freeze, "Now, if this dog and pony show is over... You're dismissed."

Desmond sensed that this was the end of the meeting...and it couldn't have gone any worse for him. He had just about expected it though, given the reports that the Commodore had probably received from Starfleet Medical and Starfleet Command. "Aye, aye, ma'am." They stood up and proceeded to head to the exit of the ready room. Desmond internally braced for what he was sure to come next from the Commodore.

No sooner did they leave then Rochelle collapse against her desk, banging her forehead against the fiery colored rock with an exasperated sigh. Starfleet was going to be the death of her, it was a fact she'd long since resigned herself to, but this was one of those things that drove another nail in the coffin. With her eyes closed against the hammering pain of the migraine pressing against her skull, she pressed the combadge at her chest, "Ivanova to Ch'Valenvok..." Dr. Feelgood was going to need to send something up, or authorize it on her replicator, to send the thing back to whatever portion of Hell it had crawled out from.

---

Commodore Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NX 78213-F

Lt Commander Matthew Desmond
Chief Operations Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NX 78213-F

Amara
We don't know yet
USS VINDICATOR, NX 78213-F

 

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