PLOT - JDL | Com Ivanova, Cmdr Waterhouse, Cmdr Archer, LtJG Charlson, LtJG Black, Ens Barnes, MCPO Caine, Kyym - "High Tide, B5, You Sunk My Battleship" PT I/II

Posted on Wed Apr 1st, 2015 @ 4:32pm by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Fleet Admiral Blyx Red & Commander Amelia Waterhouse & Commander Logan Grant, PhD. & Commander James Archer & Lieutenant JG Teá Black & Ensign & Master Chief Petty Officer Rik Caine & Admiral Alexander Hark

2,393 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: A Spot To Kill

In Kyym’s dreams, among the fire and smoke, between the thundering of canons and the screams of battle, she saw something – no, someone. A young woman, to be specific. She was wearing a red cape fluttering in the strong wind and a sword hung at her hip, its hilt shining in a sparkling light blue. Her armor was dinged and tarnished, caked and smeared with blood from shoulder to tip of toe and her hair was let to fall down her shoulder, copper, flying and mussed by the heavy gales, wild but still clinging to an air of elegance. It covered most of her delicate face as it billowed, but Kyym could see her eyes. They were blue as the autumn sky, shining like the stars but cold as winter’s ice and sharp as a knife. There in the dream world the Atlantean woman stared at such a specter and felt something new and strange growing inside her; awe and fear. She’d never felt like that before and her pulse quickened, her cheeks heated, and her legs were suddenly weak. Rochelle Andreevna Ivanova stood there with her eyes locked with Kyym’s, as beautiful as the aurora that sometimes graced the night sky, before she turned her horse in sheer disgust and disappeared into the smoke.

In her dream Kyymn stood there like a statue, staring at nothing and nowhere until she awoke with a start. The thoughts of the missing Queen lingered in her mind, and even when she’d already woken, the image of her was still there and playing cruelly against her mind. All at once she knew what she could expect with the rising day, and she’d need to prepare. The Phoenix was dead and set to haunt her for eternity, something she could live with.

Now sitting upon the throne, Kyym watched with wary eyes as variable courtiers spoke and shuffled among the floor, waiting and watching, murmuring and pointing with eyes of disbelief. They didn't approve of her, but they wouldn't have a choice in the matter. While she knew the red bird flew, she had the gut feeling, and dream confirmation, that her guards had ended such woman's life, or drug her to the dungeons deep below - never to be heard from again. The Atleantean's eyes closed as she felt the weight of the Empire resting on her shoulders. It was intoxicating. The power she could feel dancing just beyond her finger tips was almost maddening. For centuries her family had played second fiddle, but now the tides had turned and in mere moments she’d declare herself Queen. All she needed was a nod from her guards to state the deed had been done and life would start anew… With the hanging of the Starfleet riff raff.

Deep at the end of the hall, the door flew open and breaths caught. Kyym smiled and didn't bother looking, her ears expected to hear the sweet serenade of ‘The Queen has perished. Long live Queen Rochelle. Rise Queen –“

“KYYM!”

An all too familiar female voice cut in and the Ambassador’s world turned inside out. Her mouth fell open as she turned and lay her eyes on the one who had bellowed.

A Phoenix approached the throne at a quickened pace, her cloak fluttering as she went and the silken tendrils of her copper hair flowed along her shoulders and back in cascading, snow-wet waves. Her skin glowed porcelain, tinged pink by the frost, and a sword dangled at her slender waist, its hilt shining an icy blue. Kyym recognized the blade as one of her guardsman's and at once felt the cold pang of fear she’d felt before in her dream. It was the Phoenix’s eyes, however, that caught her attention the most. They were cerulean, demanding and furious. Her ice cold glare pierced into the core of Kyym’s bones, sharp like the blade of the sword that slapped flatly against her calf as she walked. She would have sworn that the temperature in the great hall had taken a massive dive, and she shivered, never removing her eyes from the rising Queen who's eyes read like an open book; big, blue, filled with swirling coldness and anger, but she was certain she caught glimpses of sorrow and grief written within their remarkable fathoms.

“What’s the meaning of this, Kyym?” Rochelle demanded. The courtiers bowed deeply greeting their Queen with all of their respect, and gentle awe. Every step she took was confident and strong, without any hesitance or shyness. Her face was regal, though strict, her head high and proud as she easily wielded her authority and status. To say she was Queenly would have only been half right – she rose as a Commodore and came to a rest in front of the throne. Rochelle's frostbitten fingers worked at the slippery buckle of the sword at her hip, freeing it and throwing it with a defiant clatter against the roughhewn travertine floors. All around her, through the now deafening silence, she could hear her crew rising like the tide beside and behind her.

Amelia was nearly on Rochelle's heels, just behind and to her right. The chaos of Rochelle's arrival, which had involved a hover car for some reason, had drawn Amelia's attention, and seeing both Rochelle and Rik in their current states had been enough to stun her into not asking questions as the away team had drawn together to follow Rochelle on her war path. Now they stood before the eye of the storm, and Amelia waited just off the platform.

“Queen Rochelle, where have you been?” Kyym feigned concern as she stood on shaking legs and held open her arms as if to embrace the soggy, freezing Queen, gesturing to the tattered remnants of her dress and the melting ice and snow she left in her wake, “Come child, let’s get you warmed and dressed. Your husband awai—“

The Queen scowled at her sharply, “Enough!” She bellowed and the whispers of the courtiers were easily heard. She was cold, so close to being hypothermic, and if it hadn't been for the Intel agents and that gum-shoe, she’d be dead… And she knew it. Her eyes narrowed as she regarded the quivering Kyym, knowing full well what poison the snake thought remained in her vile hands. It was gone. Broken and battered, reprogrammed by Barnes and never to pose a threat to the Vindicator again, “Do you know the consequences of your actions, you idiotic woman? You've endangered every life on this planet, do you know that?” She moved again to climb the platform and stood toe to toe with the Atlantean woman. Barely reaching the statuesque Atlantean's jaw, it must have seemed strange for the courtiers, and her crew, to see such a large person confronted and rendered down so low and small in front of such a petite woman.

“I don’t think you understand, Your Majesty, just what you’re saying and doing here – “ Kyym started with a gloat, but was quickly cut down.

“I understand what I’m doing perfectly well.” The Commodore hissed, her eyebrow arching and chin lifting in superiority and sheer defiance. “Allow me to make it very clear to you what’s happening. You wanted to party like it was 1899, fine. We’ll give you that party. Master Chief Caine, please charge the Ambassador.” The redhead grinned wickedly, “Use small words so she’s sure to understand.”

Rik chuckled to himself, he eased Imrol into a chair and drew his phaser just in case Kyym attempted anything. The pain by this point was incredible and he winced, having to muster all his energy to keep the cracks from showing too much. "Nice to see you again Kyym. Queen Rochelle... Ivanova has delegated to me... Special dispensation and deputised me under Atlantean law. You are being charged, under Atlantean law, with attempted rape, extortion, kidnap, blackmail and the murder of Balor Kessek". Rik spoke the name of the lost child with conviction and knew that Imrol had looked up. "You are also under arrest for suspected treason, murder and gross misconduct of political official." Rik concluded. As he approached Kyym, he took the cuffs he had obtained outside out and leaned in so only the venomous woman could hear him. "This time, the pleasure is very much all mine."

Sputtering, Kyym pulled her hands out of Caine's reach and narrowed her eyes at him. "You're a heel." She hissed, and turned her attention back to where the Queen stood ever so close. Both of her challengers were visibly injured. Caine dripped blood across the floor from any number of wounds, and the Queen's face and eyes betrayed her level of hurt, fatigue, and frost burn. If they were going to end her little dream, they were going to have to pay the price.

Ensign Barnes stood at the back of the proceedings, listening to the ringing cry of Commodore Ivanova echo throughout the hall. She kept her eyes on Kyym and any guards that might be loyal to her, but didn't remove the Type III phaser rifle from her shoulder. At the moment, it was quite clear that the fiery redhead was firmly in control and all there was left to do was make sure no one tried to take out her commanding officer.

Teá was wearing her normal duty uniform, with her leather jacket and bag over her shoulder, and type II phaser in her hand. As she watched and listened to everything that was going, she felt like she had missed something huge. After being sent back during the search, she never received any further orders, so she spent most of her time hidden and keeping an eye on things.

The tall Atlantean woman's eyes fell across those who watched, courtiers and Starfleet alike. The Admirals were lurking, ever present, and so were those who would defend them in a pinch. Caine was the closest one to their precious little Commodore. She chuckled, a low rolling growl of a sound that slowly picked up depth and intensity as her final act was chosen. Kyym struck like a viper, her robes fluttering about her from the intensity of the action she took against the tiny Queen. A small blade, hidden in her hand, flew for the smaller woman's throat and a foot aimed to connect with her belly. The goal? End her life and get her off the throne's platform before her blood could tarnish the high polished marble. "Long live the Queen!" She roared. Either way she was going to be usurped, her plan foiled by Starfleet. Revenge would come, though, of that she was certain as her eyes found Imrol in the crowd and then shifted back to Caine. Watching Rochelle die wasn't on her list of things to do. "I surrender, Mr. Caine. Now the pleasure is all yours and you can trump up more charges." She smiled lasciviously, offering her wrists to the man as the blade fell from her fingers.

Rik was too late to do anything before Kyym had lashed out, one final outburst as everything she had planned and plotted collapsed around her like a house of cards. In a scene that seemed to play out in slow-motion, Rik could only watch as the knife struck and the kick landed, sending Rochelle backwards. His blue eyes darkened, a tempest brewing within, as Kymm retorted and offered her hands for the arrest. Just like that, time sped up and, in one swift move; Rik had holstered his phaser and roughly forced one of the bracelets onto Kyym's wrist ensuring it was tighter than necessary. She may have decided to surrender; but she was going to pay. He placed the sole of his boot firmly at the back of her knee forcing the woman down to the floor and on her front with a thud. Twisting her arm backwards and around behind her he pulled just a little harder than he needed until he heard the satisfying crack of bone, a common enough injury from this type of take-down to be considered accidental, and forced her other wrist into the bracelet. He tightened it appropriately so it clawed at the skin and checked the cuffs were locked and secure so she could do no more damage. Kneeling down beside her he shook his head and spoke so only she could hear, "trust me when I tell you, this will be the gentlest treatment you receive."

As Amelia realized what the sea witch had chosen to do when confronted, she saw fire. Her instincts were to return like with like, knowing there were enough people around for someone to tend to Rochelle — but the choice was taken from her. Rochelle fell back towards Amelia, and all the willowy redhead could do was catch her friend and try to apply pressure to the wound to slow the bleeding. As she looked up, she couldn't help a satisfied smile as she watched Rik take Kyym down. The Atlantean woman was in for a world of hurt, and that was just the opening salvo.

"Rochelle, are you still with us?" Amelia asked, gently lowering herself and her friend to the floor and cradling the smaller red-head against her lap. For now, let Rik handle Kyym, and keep Rochelle as stable as possible until she can get proper medical attention. She looked around to see who nearby might have something better than the basic emergency response training given to field agents in Intel.

--- to be continued in pt II ---

=/\= End Log =/\=

Admiral Alexander 'Xander' Hark
Commander in Chief of Starfleet
United Federation of Planets

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

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

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

Commander James Archer
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NCC 78213-E

Lieutenant Junior Grade Lily Charlson
Security Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NCC 78213-E

Ensign Teá Black
Intelligence Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NCC 78213-E

Ensign Catalina Barnes
Intelligence Officer - Encryption Specialist
USS VINDICATOR, NCC 78213-E

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

Kyym
apb Spaceman
Atlantean Ambassador

 

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