JDL ~ Com Ivanova, Cmdr Waterhouse & MCPO Caine ~ "To Drown Inside A Sound That Lay So Far Underground"

Posted on Sun Jan 25th, 2015 @ 2:26pm by Commander Amelia Waterhouse & Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Master Chief Petty Officer Rik Caine

3,363 words; about a 17 minute read

Mission: A Spot To Kill

A couple hours had passed since the early rise in Amelia's room. Rik had left her quarters not long after her with a slice of toast and a devilish grin. The second decent breakfast he'd had in a long while. There was a fundamental problem with frontier station postings and freighter transports back into the heart of Federation space, the food left a lot to be desired. Having navigated his way back to his own quarters he'd showered and was no longer dressed like a booze hound stumbling home from a gin house. Dressed in the standard Starfleet uniform, with the mustard yellow undershirt he tugged at the jacket heading upstairs to meet the boss.

There was a song on his lips as he hummed one of the little jazz numbers that had set the scene for his first glance of the redheaded dame known as trouble. He knew how she felt about testing the waters upstairs and like a good scout had sworn a promise to be the paragon of discretion. With a few wrong turns, interrupted meetings and walking straight into a seven foot Rigelian he had eventually found himself in a turbo lift rising to the top deck. The ride nowhere near as interesting as the one he replayed in his mind as he waited. When the doors opened Rik was met by a cacophony of noise as the staff went about their day; like watching bees in a hive. Finding himself outside the ready room door he pressed the chime and waited patiently feeling as out of place as a fish on dry land. As he waited he couldn't help but wonder two things - the first was what the Commodore would make of this ol' Gum-shoe and the second how he would contain himself if he saw Amelia while on duty; knowing what was under that jacket. He would have been a liar if he admitted the second didn't play on his mind more.

For once she wasn't sitting behind her desk when the chime rang. Instead the annoying little noise found her standing by a window, watching the general location of the wormhole with eyes filled full of scrutiny and concern. Worry seemed to mar the young Commodore's otherwise elegant and delicate face — a look that truly didn't belong painted across such a canvas... But there it was, and it wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. They'd be gently cutting through that proverbial pass in a matter of hours, only lingering long enough for Science to take the necessary scans and draw the necessary information to plot, classify, and begin to study the anomaly before they took a ship as big as the Vindicator into it. With a sigh, she turned her attention towards the doors and shot her XO an inquisitive look. "Enter." She called.

Finding the wormhole had been paramount to this entire mission and a nice big fat red check mark was now emblazoned on the proverbial honey-do list next to it. It was out there, waiting, and Rochelle was a little less than eager to proceed — even if she'd never admit to it. On the other side of that once collapsed space anomaly lay the future she'd rebelled so very hard against and she knew, deep in her heart, that going to Atlantis Prime would forever alter the flow of her life. Of their lives. That was the sacrifice she'd made as an officer; always having to put the lives of others and the good of the greater masses before the good of one. It had meant being selfless and giving — traits that then demanded to be paired with ruthless and steely, things Rochelle allowed to naturally manifest within herself, though often fought with in her quest to lead with diplomacy instead of the antique Colt .45 that sat, shining, on a stand sat high and central on the shelving unit behind her desk. She'd moved the ammonite to the center of the coffee table when the Levine-Grant clan had brought the pistol back from Earth. Even she had to admit that it looked better on display than it did hidden in her lingerie drawer back on good ol' Terra Firma.

Rik stepped through the door and into the office for the first time; he looked around and sussed his bearings scoping the room like radar scoping a threat. It was an old habit and one he had never been able to shake. He clocked the pistol first; interesting choice for a CO and wondered if it were a testament of things to come. He then noted the Commodore, younger than expected. Then he clocked her; a familiar sight that made his heart leap into his throat. He cleared his throat and took a breath; like an actor about to go on stage or a fakeloo artist about to go on the grift. "Master Chief Petty Officer Rik Caine, reporting for duty" he said with a husky elegance nodding to both CO and XO.

A slender sanguine brow rose as the Commodore assessed the new face. He moved not unlike a alley cat tom, each step filled with languid trepidation and she couldn't help but wonder where he'd picked up the habit of looking both ways before he made any real headway into a room. It was intriguing, mainly because it reminded her of a thief casing a jewelry store — but just what he could steal from her remained relatively obscure. The ammonite? The pistol? Trinkets — and then he introduced himself and the entire veil of pretense went up in smoke. He was the investigator. To catch a criminal, one needed to think like a criminal, and the 'gumshoe', not the lawmen that had one handled the old six-shooter, was a Dick Tracey type — see through. For the moment, the shorter of the two redheads chose to ignore the wanton, lingering gaze that had befallen her XO.

"Welcome aboard the Vindicator." She greeted and gestured towards an open seat, inviting him to make himself comfortable. While he may have been Enlisted, he still held tight to esteem with years spent toiling away to earn that title of Master Chief. Most of the ones she'd ever lain eyes on were old, paunchy, crusty old creatures. This certainly wasn't the case. Youth seemed to be on both their sides. "Could I interest you in tea? Raktajino?"

Rik nodded at the welcome and moved towards the offered seat. He knew his jacket had found its way to command long before he had but wasn't sure how much of it had been digested. Taking a seat he leaned back a little, not in a disrespectful way but of someone confident enough in himself not to take formalities so seriously. Rik had been around the block long enough to know that doing what he did took a different kind of mettle. Most people just accepted that; his assumption the Commodore would be the same may have been misguided, but it was what he was running with. He mulled over the statement before responding "well it's a little early for a hair of the dog that bit me... tea would be swell" he spoke, like a character out of a PI holonovel. It had been a style that had inspired him when he was young and stuck with him when he found it was unique enough to loosen the lips of singing canaries and put a hood right off his game.

"I got it," Amelia told Rochelle of the tea, as her gaze met Rik's for a fleeting moment. A small smile, and her attention quickly turned to Rochelle's teapot. The first sampling of the Vindicator's own tea had gone well, and without even checking, Amelia loaded up the pot for round two. The glass teapot soon sat with infuser steeping the tea on the desk — next to it small containers of milk, sugar, and honey — and Amelia leaned against the edge of the desk. Just far enough away from him to resist the urge to touch, but not far enough away to make it obvious she was placing herself intentionally out of reach. Her eyes met his again, and a sly smile tugged at the corner of her lip.

Rik watched as the tea was made and brought over. As it was poured he fought internally like two brawlers in the ring looking for the knockout blow. Half of him wanted to damn protocol to hell and be close to her, but the side he listened to was that of reason; promise. "Thank you m'am" he said slowly letting his gaze linger for a moment a half-smile only she would recognise before turning his attention back to the Commodore to make the act convincing.

"Right." Rochelle drawled as the lifted brow somehow managed to creep higher, "If we're done playing footsie, let's actually proceed with a proper check in, shall we?" She said, taking her seat. Her own cup steamed in front of her, begging for her attention as the ice of her eyes settled on the Commander first and then the Master Chief in what could only be defined as a warning. Amelia was her friend, perhaps even a sister, but there was a thin red line being stretched taught to the point it was threatening to snap altogether. Personal lives were just that, personal. "I'm going to start by telling you that what you do on your own time is just that... Your own time." The Commodore slowly stirred her tea as she added honey as a sweetener, "Duty time means just that... Duty and your duty is to the ship and her crew. As our head investigator, you will spend most of your time working with our resident JAG officers." A small smile tugged dauntingly at the corners of her lips, "and as the Chief of the Boat, you will take on the duties assigned to you there as well. Tell me, Master Chief, have you ever served as such prior to your posting on this vessel?"

Like a pro-poker player the expression on Rik's face remained unchanged at the Commodore's words. Internally though there was a picture of confusion and some worry. Had he and Amelia been seen? Were they that obvious? Did she know? Had she been told? He fought the internal questioning and urges to look to Amelia to see her reaction. Couldn't give the game away - assuming it hadn't already been. After a moments silence he said simply "quite". He turned to his own cup, stirring in sugar slowly before taking a sip. "I've been a gum-shoe for most of my career, several key investigations to my name and countless others on my service jacket. Prior to that I was a special investigator for Special Forces. Never on a ship before mind you; kept both feet on the ground before now on frontier outposts and outlying worlds". He paused "you have nothing to worry about Commodore, I'm good at what I do" he concluded as he took another sip of his hot sweet tea. "Chief of the boat is new for me though, I get the basics, but do you have any specific requirements from the role?" He asked believing getting down to the brass tacks of work would be the best option.

"I always have something to worry about, Chief." Rochelle replied tersely, settling deeper into her chair with her fingers wrapped around her mug. "As Chief of the Boat you are my senior most enlisted personnel. You are now thrown into the role as my adviser as to crew morale and the day to day operations of this ship. That means you answer directly to me since this is, after all, my ship and..." She held up a single finger as she drew a sip of her tea, "My exploration squadron." The Commodore continued as she sat her mug back down. "I want to know everything. We're headed into the lawless parts of space, places that have been a playground to everything from pirates to smugglers, outlaws to Romulans and that's bound to shake some people to their roots." The young woman's hands and fingers moved and spread apart as she verbally painted the picture she hoped sir super sleuth would absorb and understand.

"But I warn you." She leveled, placing one pointed finger down against the shined petrified wood surface of her desk, "I don't take kindly to failure and I don't take kindly to disrespect. You'll do fine on the Vindicator provided you don't besmirch her name, or mine, by sullying your own and, to be fair, I'll even give you a tip. Next time you go aboard a ship and are the senior enlisted? Show up at the CO's ready room within the first three hours you're aboard and not through other means. Green?" The sharp blue of her eyes drifted between the investigator and her XO.

As she spoke Rik nodded attentively sipping at his tea and trying his level best to win the internal war he had to not turn and look at the redheaded dame he so very much longed for. To distract himself he set down the cup and pulled out a battered brown leather object that looked like a wallet of sorts. It was tatty, stained black in parts and torn. By any first glance it was nothing more than trash. He flicked it open with a smooth movement from the wrist to reveal it contained a small PADD. Pulling out a stylus he begun scribbling some notes related to the Commodore's comments to follow-up with later. Then came the warning. Without a visible difference in his expression he clenched his teeth slightly and looked up to meet his eyes with those of the Commodore. "As a freshly cut meadow Commodore" he responded. "My word, my loyalty - as a gum-shoe who saw the pits of hell itself it's all I got. I hope you will come to see and trust that in time" he added slowly.

Rik shifted in his chair and set the leather bound PADD on the desk as he reached a hand out for his tea. He took a sip of the hot, sweet liquid before continuing, cupping the receptacle in his lap. "With regard to where we're headed, it's the kinda place I know only too well - with your approval I can part those skills I've learned over a very long career to any bim or joe that needs a confidence boost who figures they may end up with a gat in their button at the first away mission they get" he said sincerely before adding "and you will receive regular reports and updates as to morale as requested Commodore; I keep my ear to the ground, if I hear a rumbling - you will know". If there was one thing Rik Caine was; it was dedicated to the protection of innocent lives. He'd seen too many loose the light in their eyes.

While being a delicate little creature, the Commodore was fierce and often hardbound by the rules Starfleet set forth and her own special brand of morals and guile. Watching Rik Caine, however, was like stepping foot into one of Picard's old holo programs that were painted sepia or black and white and filled with smoke and fedoras. She'd explored them once or twice, many had as they'd been made readily available for any who chose to crawl through the seedy innards of old twentieth century crime dramas. If she was asked, she'd even admit they were relatively fun — tommy guns and all. The era had been grand, and a poster from Casablanca hung proudly framed on her office wall back home on Earth, yet even she had issues listening to what poured from the Chief's lips and idly wondering if she'd cracked her head in the holodeck — or maybe the Romulans were back up to no good and Tr'Bak's smiling face would suddenly appear out of the din. "All good things come with time, Chief." She replied, folding her arms across her chest, "There's a saying that first impressions last forever, but you can rest easy knowing that I'm a very forgiving person and I will give credit where credit is due. Serve the Vindicator well, and you'll earn my trust in due course. I look forward to your reports."

Rik pocketed the PADD and finished his tea slowly before setting down the cup. He'd had better first meetings with Commanding Officers; but worse as well. He was frustrated in his own mind, unable to read the Commodore and how much she may have known. Play the game. Prove you earned your stripes he told himself. "A first impression may last forever; but I tend to measure a joe by the deeds of his lifetime to truly gauge his mettle - your first impression of me probably isn’t the best; I'm ok with that. I just have to show you that my words and deeds paint a different picture" he responded thoughtfully. "I know my methods are… unique at best, I seem like a relic who belongs in a different decade and this is the first time I've followed uniform regulations in four years… but past all that, I'm good at what I do; I get results. My methods work. My entire life up to this point has been about saving those who can't fight the hellfire of the devil around them. No matter what the personal cost. I will continue to do that as I always have. You'll have your first report in forty-eight hours" he concluded.

Rochelle canted her head to the right ever so slightly and regarded the man sitting in front of her with no small measure of scrutiny alight in her eyes. It was easy to see that she was weighing him and his words, looking for answers in between the pretty prose he warbled. Many had come before him and many more would follow — the question now what whether or not the self-professed 'gum-shoe' had any real merit. "Indeed, Mr. Caine." She replied with a nod, "and only time will paint that picture for me. I don't ask for much, I just ask for integrity and honesty in the people I serve for. A Queen, however proverbial, is only as good as her subjects and it's the people on this ship that make the Vindicator the titan that she is. I have hope that you'll hit your stride here and adapt to life in the black." The woman added, tugging her mug closer for another sip, "And I look forward to that report. If there's nothing else... You're free to head back to your duties."

Amelia smiled sympathetically. If she'd known she was only going to make this that much more difficult for him, she would have made an excuse to be elsewhere. It was one thing to be chastised for her own actions, but to see someone else bear the brunt of it — she wasn't pleased. With the near arrival at Atlantis, she wasn't sure when she'd have time to see him next either, but she was pretty sure that even if she had an excuse to leave the bridge now to perhaps have a couple words in the turbolift, she'd not hear the end of it from Rochelle. Even if she really did only intend to talk. She'd find him first chance she got off duty.

Rik nodded and rose from the table straightening his jacket as he did so. "Will do Commodore" he concluded nodding to her by way of his departure. As he turned; his back to the woman behind the desk, he caught Amelia's eye and smiled softly letting her know everything was ok. "M'am" he said simply; a word loaded with so much meaning as he headed out the ready room door and back to work.

=/\= End Log =/\=

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

Commander Amelia Waterhouse
Executive Officer
USS Vindicator, NCC-78213-E

Master Chief Petty Officer Rik Caine
Security Investigator/Chief of the Boat
USS Vindicator, NCC-78213-E

 

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