PLOT LOG | Commodore Ivanova, Admiral Red - "A Cold Day In Hell"

Posted on Fri Jan 9th, 2015 @ 11:51am by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Fleet Admiral Blyx Red
Edited on on Fri Jan 9th, 2015 @ 1:40pm

1,801 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: A Spot To Kill
Location: Manhattan, New York

Sitting across from one another it was far from impossible to see the likenesses shared between the two women, and the differences that came in hand. Each had been cut from similar cloth and shared diluted blood. Each had taken their fame and fortune at the tip of a blade. The elder of the two sat distinguished by her raven hair, while the young upstart blazed bright as fire. The Shrike and the Phoenix, both caressed with playful names of some of the most indomitable winged creatures ever to take to Earth's skies. Blyx smiled wryly from behind her tea cup as she studied the young Commodore in front of her. She was reminded so very much of herself, even if Ivanova had tackled far more in a far shorter period of time. Commodore Levine had done well in the way she reared the firebrand, Captain Neyes had finished it by reminding her of a little thing called mortality. Starfleet as a whole had mourned with Ivanova, but now a colder shoulder had been shrugged in their direction as soon as the Trill had returned and rumors of Romulan cloning had begun to filter on the wind.

"Admiral Hark crashed your Christmas party, I hear." The Shrike finally spoke and set her teacup down. Being back on Earth was a rare moment, even if it was spent simply negotiating the holidays and making sure her face was seen by the rest of the fleet. Rumors had flown that she'd been captured or worse, some had said she'd even run away to pedal her wares as a Dabo girl. Neither were true, especially the bit about Dabo.

"He did." Rochelle replied, setting her own teacup down as the unsettling silence was finally killed for the first time in over twenty minutes. It had been an uneasy meeting. While the Admiral was family, it was hard knowing what kind of mood she'd be in or if she'd demand a proper amount of ass kissing now that she was directly in charge of every professional move Rochelle would make from there on out. The redhead tucked a stray strand of hair back behind her ear and moved to take up a scone, still warm from the oven and quickly delivered by room service to the Commodore's suite. "I have to say I was more than a little surprised."

"Come now, Rochelle. You had to have known he was planning on this." The Shrike interrupted with a snort and a chuckle.

Rochelle simply shook her head. "I've heard rumors, but I thought--"

"With Landon's return that he'd reconsider your position? Exile the Vindicator to some easily monitored post within the Alpha Quadrant?" Blyx's Prussian eyes burned as they locked onto Rochelle's crystalline baby blues, "Don't underestimate Alexander Hark, child. He doesn't underestimate you and trusts you'd destroy Neyes, both of them, if they ever threatened Starfleet or the ship." She grinned lasciviously, reaching for a treat of her own.

Killing Landon had never been a thought until that very moment, and now it scorched against Rochelle's skin like a hot brand -- vulgar and cruel. Starfleet expected her to be able to simply pull the trigger and end the lives of the Trill brothers on her ship if it turned out they weren't what they seemed to be. It was her worst fear, her most profound nightmare, to suddenly wake one night and discover Landon poised over her in bed with one of his blades pressed against her throat and Romulan sentiments painted on his lips. Even then she doubted she could be the one to bring him to an end. "We'll never have to put that theory to the test. Landon and Tristan Neyes are nothing short of a miracle and just another sign that the Romulans are too damned stupid to keep anything under their hat. We shouldn't be looking gift horses in the mouth regardless."

The Admiral's eyes almost rolled in their sockets. "You're forgetting my age, child. You're so transparent you're practically cellophane. I sure hope you can hide your feelings better when you're face to face with Hark himself."

"It's a hard thing to forget, Admiral." Rochelle retorted sharply, managing to hide her smirk with a bite of scone and leaned back into the comfort of her chair. "I don't have anything to hide or be afraid of. Simple as that." The woman had hit a raw nerve, one left exposed by the Commodore's constant fear of someone or something exploiting Landon or her emotions towards him. It could have been said that the Trill was her Achilles' heel -- or her greatest attribute. Some saw him as the reason why the fires burned and why the Phoenix managed to champion on in the face of such horrific adversity. The truth was that Landon had given her hope, even in death and few others had been there to fan the dying flames. Almar had been her greatest support, constantly waiting in the shadows to lift her if she wavered or threatened to fall. Pond had been another, and together the three of them had managed to pull together enough to push the Vindicator onward and upwards towards greatness. The truth remained, however, that Rochelle had survived Landon's death if only to bring him honor and continue the legacy he'd created within the ship's name. No one hid that knowledge, though maybe it should have been ferreted away for safe keeping, secured from the Trill and Starfleet alike.

It was the Admiral's turn to chuckle and shake her head in good humor. "You'll always be a thorn in my side, Ivanova. One I'm glad to have around." She reached to pat the younger woman's hand, releasing any tension or worry that had run between the two of them as they sat. Blood ran thicker than water, regardless of how watered down that blood may have been. "I still caution you, child. The Symbiosis Commission has been nosing around ever since word got out that both Landon and Tristan stood on the steps of the city library. That wasn't a smart thing to do, you're being far too bold and that boldness has left a hole in your armor. They've been requesting information and other things and while I can't speak for Hark, I'll block them as best I can for as long as I can." The petite raven maned woman shifted her weight in her seat, moving to obtain a PADD from within a satchel hanging from the side of her chair. "These are copies of my reports on their requests. My guess is that the next one will be a bit more heated, they want samples." She paused, handing the PADD to the redhead, her eyes boring into hers, "live samples, which means they'll want to take one or both of them to Trill." Her voice trailed off, the implication hanging heavy in the air between them.

"I won't allow it." Rochelle swallowed hard, her jaw setting and chin lifting as she drew in a sharp breath of air. It was defiance. Telltale in the way she centered herself as she took the PADD and straightened up, flicking it on a quickly skimming through. The vipers weren't playing. They'd killed many times before under guise that it was for the greater good of the symbionts they protected. Neyes, as far as she was concerned, was off limits. Both copies of it. It had been a grave mistake the flaunt their success so openly to the public. Anyone and everyone passing by could have seen the brothers standing there with little Zed.

"Then I suggest you start thinking of ways to protect them, and yourself, before I'm forced to have Hark intervene." Blyx replied, watching the younger woman stiffen and bolster herself. The scene was quite impressive. The Trill should have known better, she thought, bright colors usually meant poison and no viper could out strike a woman such as Rochelle Ivanova. "I suggest you tie up loose ends with the Atlanteans before you report to Cold Station Theta. The choice is yours, of course."

The younger of the two warriors looked up to read the elder one's face and eyes. Words of warning and guidance were woven and laced together and Blyx, she knew, was a brilliant strategic mind feared by Breen and Jem'Haddar. The Trill were less likely to follow them into Atlantean space where she'd hold the strategical upper hand. It would buy them time. It would buy her time to think and give Blyx the needed rest and reason not to involve the rest of Starfleet's council. "I'll take that into advice. Consider it done." Rochelle nodded.

"Good. Then consider it an order. I'll have as much drafted up and delivered to your yeoman by the end of the night." Blyx finished off her scone and found her feet, tugging the length of her black wool skirt down as she stood. "I hate to run, but duty calls and I have bigger demons to chase away before night falls." She explained, waiting for Rochelle to stand. "I'll see you when you bring the Vindicator to Theta." The Admiral offered the redhead her hand.

Quickly getting to her own feet, Rochelle nodded and took the Admiral's offered hand, giving it a firm shake. "You will. Take care of yourself, Blyx. We'll catch up soon."

"That we shall, child." The Admiral smiled and nodded, shaking the young Commodore's hand and moving to take her leave, but not before pausing briefly by the door and turning to say; "Your mother would be proud of what you've become. Not just as an officer, Rochelle, but as a woman." With that, a final glance, and a nod she let herself out into the hall.

Rochelle was left speechless, her hands folded in front of her as she simply stood there and nodded. What more could she have said or done? Blyx Red was like a typhoon of monumental proportions all tightly wound up into one tiny little package. She was fierce and brave, but soft in her own right. There was still a feeling and emotional human left in that vicious little shell after all. The little Commodore felt the corner of her mouth twitch into a smile in spite of all the hardship she felt weighing against her shoulders. She'd become a titan, Axis to be precise, and the weight of the Vindicator's world fell heavy against her. She held lives in the balance and she'd need to make decisions and fast if she wanted to keep them with her.

---

Commodore Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer / Exploration Squadron Commander
USS VINDICATOR, NCC 78213-E
Cheydinhall Sector

&

Admiral Blyx Red
Commanding Officer / Quadrant Commander
Cold Station Theta
Cheydinhall Sector

 

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