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JL | LtJg Ra'lin Sha'mer, Commodore Rochelle Ivanova | Confession Time, part 2

Posted on 241711.22 @ 16:36 by Lieutenant Ra'lin Sha'mer & Commodore Rochelle Ivanova

Mission: Ballynamony
Location: USS Vindicator
Timeline: SD 241711.22

A few minutes later Ra'lin touched the chime to Rochelle's office. Usually she walked right in, but that was when she was in her function as yeoman. Now she was here for a quite different reason.

With a full set of shower shenanigans happening unbeknownst to Rochelle, she'd only just taken the time to settle into her chair and begin to pour over reports. The ship had made it back through the anomaly with surprising ease. Dani, she decided, was more of a genius than she'd even thought before... That was saying something given how the woman had often left her in awe during the years they'd served together and beyond into their friendship. Nevertheless, they were to be saved and travel was being safely made towards Cold Station Theta at a decent rate of speed that did little to tax the injured ship - thanks to a quick thinking team of engineers. The curls had been brushed from her hair, along with a multitude of little leaves and twigs it had picked up during their run through the woods to escape. While her hair had been once more put up in her usual twist, the foliage remained in a small pile on her desk where it would remain until she decided whether or not to use it in the soil mix of one of her little budding bonsai or simply recycle it in the replicator. "Enter," she called, tired and worn thin. Her lips were a thin line of aggravation and her color of her eyes promised a coming storm of depression and anger as the minutes wore on and additional reports continued to mount.

Ra'lin entered, stared at the growing list of reports displayed on the open screen and groaned in dismay. "I'll get you the summaries first thing in the morning," she muttered. Morning, ship's time? She had no idea what time it really was. Other than 'confession time', or 'reports compiling and summarisation time', or 'getting rid of these damned clothes and back into a decent uniform' time.

Confession time first. She came to as sharp a version of attention as her battered and weary body would allow and said with a very carefully neutral expression: "Sir, I have to report to you that I broke the Prime Directive by bringing one of the people from the planet back on board."

Rochelle sighed and pursed her lips before reaching to pinch the bridge of her nose. "I know." Was all she said at first, mainly because it was the truth. She'd known since she'd handed her friend the deceased Ensign's combadge in order to help facilitate the man's progress. Even more, she knew it when they were all in the shuttle. Ra'lin had done the unthinkable, but the unthinkable was the right thing. Craig, for as much of an annoyance as he was, had proven himself to be a worthy, loyal, and selfless being. "Where is he now?" She asked, releasing her nose and looking back up at Ra'lin. There was no anger there, only a sense of confusion, worry, and concern as she gestures to the chairs in front of her desk in a silent request that the other woman take a seat. Something would have to be done. That something... Eluded her.

"My quarters. I showed him how the shower works and put some clothes ready for him." The 'I know' certainly explained Rochelle's searching look through the shuttle. "Under the floor boards, the engine hatch," she added. Still she remained stiffly at attention, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But she did pull the small box she'd taken from her quarters out of her pocket and placed it on Rochelle's desk. The gesture had such a sense of finality in it that she required all remaining willpower to keep her face neutral and her posture straight. Actions had consequences, and if this would be the only one, she'd consider herself lucky. "I take it you will require this back," she said, her voice as devoid of any emotion as any Vulcan's.

"No. I don't require anything back." The Commodore found her feet and shook her head. Her fingers grazed along the cool stone top of her desk as she came around it and head to the sanctity of the replicator. Coffee, light and sweet, hot... It would have to be the elixir to her ills and the the coming headache that now began to pulse in her temples with its staccato steadily growing stronger with every passing moment. "I know I'll have to come up with a way to "punish" you, but I'm not taking your commission."

Now Ra'lin sagged into the chair Rochelle had indicated with a trembling sigh. She wanted to close her eyes in relief but didn't dare to, afraid that her treacherous body would take that as a cue that sleeping would be just fine right now. (Sitting down was dangerous enough in itself, but collapsing to the ground wouldn't do either.) "The lesser form of punishment would be demotion," she said faintly. She had grown up Starfleet rules and regulations and knew them to the letter. Sometimes things could be morally right and technically wrong, she knew that too – as she had told the Commodore before, listening to parents discuss those very dilemmas (when said parents thought they were safely out of kid's hearing ranges) gave one an unusually skewed perspective.

Rochelle nodded slowly, "Unfortunately, you're correct." She spoke on a long, low, almost defeated exhale of breath, "I hope you understand that I don't want to do this, but I more or less have to do something to convince the brass that I condemn the action blah blah blah." The redhead was tired, broken, exhausted - but it would be a cold day in hell when she took it out on a member of her crew. Her mouth pursed as she thought back to the multitude of instances where the inner circle of her life had done things that defied logic and pushed boundaries... Things that were downright shady and underhanded, but always to protect one another and keep the family together tight and snug. It had defined the depths and lengths that they were willing to go to save each other - and now it seemed that had extended to Ra'lin. "Consider yourself chastised and this a momentary set back that makes no difference in the way I see you as an officer."

"I understand," Ra'lin said. How could she not, with her background? She understood the dilemmas all too well. Still, even though she knew her CO had no choice, even though Ra'lin had practically asked for it, it stung. Illogically, certainly considering the alternative, but it did. With a sigh, she hauled herself out of the chair again. "You'll have the summaries on your desk by 0800." After a shower, a bed and hopefully a good painkiller or two. "Sorry to have bothered you with this…" she added with another sigh.

Watching the other woman get to her feet, Rochelle couldn't help but feel powerless. Laws were laws, rules were rules, and no matter how they bent them to suit their needs, she knew there would always be a need to tow the line... Somewhere. "Take your time. We've been through a lot."

"Yes, we have… So, please, sir, you take some time as well. Get some rest. Please. You need it." Ra'lin managed a thin smile before leaving Rochelle's office. Somewhere between arriving on the ship and getting here, the Vindicator had managed to jump back to their real time. She had felt it, not consciously, but somewhere in a deeper level of awareness. Which meant that everyone and everything Craig had known was now buried thousands of years in the past.

As she shuffled through the corridors of the ship, still dressed in her strange attire, she felt as if she had lived every one of those years.


Commodore Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer

Ra'lin Sha'mer
Yeoman, USS Vindicator-F


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