JDL | VAdm Archer, Com Ivanova - "Revelations"

Posted on Thu Apr 16th, 2015 @ 6:15am by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Admiral Sean Archer

2,604 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: A Spot To Kill

Even before the Vindicator had docked at Cold Station Theta, Admiral Red had been kind enough to set aside one of the smaller lounges for a meeting between the two leading most experts on Atlantean culture. At first, Rochelle had thought it was a bit of a joke, but the lack of twinkle in the raven haired Admiral's eyes had told her that it was anything but. She'd cleared her throat and nodded, deciding it wasn't worth a fight. Only a week post her latest near death experience, the young Commodore was finding it hard to muster the strength to do much of anything. Walking her ship was still tiring. Breathing was tiring. Soaking wasn't an option, in fact she couldn't look at her tub without shivering and feeling nauseous almost instantly. The nightmare was still fresh and entirely too real. Needless to say, fighting with the Admiral over her desire for her and Admiral Archer to sit and chit chat over crumpets, tea, and assholes refused to even place on the top ten list of her desired activities.

The sound of the door hissing open and shut announced the arrival of the aging Admiral and Rochelle carefully collected her thoughts, setting them aside for a time when they were more appropriate. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you." She smiled, getting to her feet and offering him her hand for a shake.

Sean gently took Rochelle's hand and kissed it. "The Phoenix? The pleasure is all mine." With a glimmer in his eye he smiled. "I have to ask. How is it a lovely thing like you got entangled with Atlantean royalty? Did no one, in Starfleet read my reports on those bronze monsters?"

Having expected nothing more than a stiff shake from the Admiral, the Commodore blinked briefly in surprise. She'd heard tales of the man's prowess both on and off the big battle ship's of old, but hadn't quite expected what she'd received. The only other time she'd had a chance to catch a glimpse of the man had been during the evening of the first award ceremony post Landon's "death". He'd been dancing with his wife, enjoying the hospitality afforded to those who had chosen to partake in the party held while docked at Qu'vat. "Charmed, I'm sure." She replied with a gentle chuckle and motioned for him to take the seat across from the one she'd already claimed. "Unfortunately, sir, they seem to have been buried by time for the most part. Commander Archer was able to provide bits and pieces of insight, but it appears most of that information was greatly misplaced over the last few years." Rochelle almost sighed, far from amused that the man's words hadn't been noted and kept at the forefront. "I believe Admiral Red is working to have that remedied. That's why we're here today."

With a heavy sigh, Sean turned and gazed at the stars through the window. "We had a chance to wipe that entire race out of existence, ya know?" He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the window frame. "The Civonians had a plan. With assistance from the Vindicator's science team we developed a very fast acting yet short lived neurovirus. The plan was to deliver the virus into their atmosphere with torpedo casing, wait a year, and then go back, and wipe out any survivors with shock troops. The final decision was mine. I opted to go with a more, diplomatic solution.

"Using the threat of the weapon, the Atlanteans agreed to cease hostilities with the Civonians and the Federation." Sean turned towards Rochelle, "We all lived in relative peace for the remainder of Alpha Fleet's stay."

"But I thought the use of bio-chemical warfare was strictly prohibited by the Prime Directive?" She countered, watching the Admiral with a furrowed brow. This hadn't been part of anything she'd ever heard, not from James, and certainly not from William Taggart. "I'm surprised Starfleet allowed the Taggart brothers to serve knowing what the Atlanteans were capable of." She mused, folding her hands together atop the glass table separating them.

"What do you know about Alpha Fleets journey to the Alphacentius Galaxy, Commodore?"

"Not enough, apparently." The Phoenix replied with a gentle upwards sweep of one of her eyebrows, falling silent in a quiet request for him to continue with his train of thought. "My time came long after your trip to Atlantis Prime, Admiral. I only know what I was told by your son and the vague flowery lip service I received from Captain Taggart." She shrugged.

"Taggart? William Taggart?" Sean shook his head in disgust.

"One in the same." The Commodore replied, noting the Admiral's heavy scowl.

"Stardate 240203.14. We had lost contact with the USS Melbourne. She was 3 days out from Outpost Avalon and we hadn't heard from her in 48 hours." Sean walked over to the replicator, "Ice tea. Sweet. Care for anything, Commodore?"

Distracted by the sudden change in the Admirals' thoughts, Rochelle nodded, "Uhh, yes. Please. Hot green tea with honey."

"Hot green tea, with honey," the older man demanded. The replicator whirred and the two drinks appeared in the slot. Sean grabbed them both walked back over to the table, sat down, and placed Rochelle's drink in front of her. "As the commander of Alpha Fleet, I dispatched the entire fleet to search for her." He took a drink. "The Vindicator was my flagship. We had located the Melbourne's decaying warp signature which stopped just outside of Kzinti space. Using a tachyon pulse we tried to revitalize her warp trail. This action opened a wormhole. I signaled the rest of the fleet and naturally, we entered."

"We spent 3 agonizing years in that Gods forsaken galaxy." Sean wrapped both of his hands around the cold glass. "The Atlanteans, destroyed the wormhole, trapping the majority of Alpha Fleet some 350 billion light years from home." Sean dropped his head, "We had to adapt. Starfleet regulations didn't really apply to our situation."

Taking a sip of her tea, Rochelle only nodded as she metabolized what was said, "Taggart had said he and his brother had found themselves a way in through a temporal rift near Bajor." Her voice was low, laced with a small amount of vehement poison that tempered each and every syllable, "We both know that to be complete and utter bullshit, don't we?" The question, of course, was rhetorical. "How did you get home?" She asked, setting the mug down and allowing herself to study the war worn lines of the man's face.

Sean took a drink of his tea before continuing. "The 'Taggarts', as you call them, sent their sons through the wormhole before they collapsed it. Our intel informed us that the Royal family had sent them through to spy on the Milkyway. We tried to stop their ship, but Atlantean vessels are much faster at sublight and they were able to slip through while a small force held off the Griffin and Warrior."

"With the help of the Civonians, we were able to create a quantum singularity dense enough to open a temporary wormhole." Sean's brow furrowed, "Did anyone speak Kerry Malone before you went to Alphacentius?"

"And then I, being stupid and careless, allowed myself to be sucked into that mess." Rochelle practically groaned, shaking her head at her own reckless jackassery. How she'd survived this long had been a mystery, and truly she owed each breath she took to Commodore Levine's careful patience and practiced hand. Without it, she'd likely still be the wild hearted tactician that the Academy had churned out. "I suppose we all make mistakes, though. Live and learn." She added from around the rim of her mug, burying herself in a sip. The quick burn reminded her to relax. "Malone?" Rochelle questioned, "He's buried out in the depths of the Gamma Quadrant fighting some war or another we have no reason to be poking our noses in."

"Malone, I know, is well aware of the threat the Atlanteans," Sean shifted in his seat, "and Civonians, for that matter, possess. While we are allies with the Civonians, they have the capability of turning on us like a starving dog. But those dammed Atlanteans. I always told James that if you take the underhandedness of the Romulans and the aggressiveness of the Klingons, you get the Atlanteans."

"If Malone can't bed it or get away with shooting it, he has no interest in it." The Commodore's head shook slowly to emphasize her remark. That much had been proven true the night of the same gala she'd first seen the Admiral before her; a memory she'd sooner forget than relive if she had the choice. Archer's voice rumbled through her tired thoughts again, and Rochelle couldn't help but smirk and chuckle lightly at his anecdote. "Truer words have yet to be spoken, sir." She agreed with a quick rise and fall of her eyebrows and shake of her head.

"No one can blame you for falling for the Atlantean prince. He was very charismatic. Almost like the serpent from the story of Adam and Eve in an early Terran religious text." Sean took a drink of his tea, "and Malone. I could never really wrap my head around why Starfleet promoted him to Flag level. He has never really shown any true leadership ability."

"I'm afraid I can't comment on Malone's abilities. My experiences with him were limited and tarnished by his..." She sought the right words, carefully picking around the adjectives she used to describe the other Admiral. While he basked in the luxury of retirement, she was very much tethered by the bounds of her commission. "Joie de vivre." The imparted euphemism seemed correct enough. "Taggart... Was persistent and I was young. Lesson learned and an unwanted kingdom granted." The firebrand sighed and couldn't quite catch herself from rolling her eyes at the idea. "I have no intention of ever going back to that planet."

Sean chuckled, "You don't have to be so kind, young lady. What we say in this room stays in this room. However, your wish to not go back? I'm afraid can not be granted at this time. They violated our treaty which was an act of war. I have been in contact with my," he paused and corrected his statement, "with our Civonian friends. They have agreed to assist with 'negotiations.'"

No one had called her 'young lady' since she was 15. Memories of the scolding she'd received by way of an irritable, aging police officer on a torn up golf course, once upon a warm summer night ago, bubbled to the surface, forcing her to smile and clear her throat. He was hardly that officer, but the effect was all the same. "I appreciate that, sir." She warranted him with a grin that would ultimately fade into a searing scowl all her own.

"While Kyym and Mikkal may have broken the treaty, I am still Queen. Any act against me falls under Atlantean law and not under the Federation's spectrum." Rochelle sighed softly, her eyes offering him a sorrowful apology. "There's a new regime with a new regent in place. A professor of law, Imrol Kessek, is overseeing the proceedings conducted by the regent." Her lips pursed momentarily, "Though... I suppose having the Civonians watching and waiting in case something happens wouldn't be a poor idea."

Sean sat back in his chair, "While this may be the case, Kyym held several thousand other Federation citizens hostage. Whether you wish to believe it or not, Kyym isn't the only Atlantean that suffers from megalomania. They all do. From the Regent down to the lowliest peasant."

Rochelle nodded, unable to argue with the Admiral's logic, "I can't deny that." She finally conceded, studying the man before her. While James was aloof and cocksure, the Admiral was distinguished and bold, holding promise of what his son would eventually metamorphose into in the years to come. "I appreciate you coming all this war, Admiral. I can only hope that this can be resolved and tabled quickly." She replied, fighting off the stiff pang of guilt that came with the thought of what would have happened had they not been successful on that planet. Looking at the man's mirth filled and knowing eyes made her shift in her seat, saddened by the knowledge that his son's death at the hands of the bronze skinned savages would likely have marred his soul for the rest of his days. There wouldn't have been anyone left to blame but herself. Not Malone. Not Kyym. Her.

Knowing something was bothering the Commodore, Sean shifted gears, "So how is my son doing? I haven't seen him since the party."

"James is still doing James." The Phoenix replied, clearing her throat, "He's an unwavering and undeterred constant source of vexation, and a fine officer." A small smile broke through the guilt, allowing itself to lighten the features of her face. "I'm thankful to have him aboard."

Sean laughed, "He gets that from his mother. I swear." Taking the last sip from his glass, "I know he thinks highly of you. Possibly more, if you ask me. If he gives you any guff, ask him about Twinky."

At this, the Commodore's eyebrows knit and lips pursed in a thin line, "I'll take it under advisement, sir... But..." Her head tilted as she spoke, obviously in question and amusement, "Twinky... Sir?"

Sean smiled and pulled a photo out of his pocket. The photo was a picture of a very young James, probably 8 or 9, and he was holding a ball of fur. "Twinky was a stuffed toy tribble James slept with until he was 14 or so. He probably still has it."

Nearly choking on her final sip of tea, Rochelle couldn't stifle the quick bark of a surprised laugh that left her lips. "You're kidding." She said, leaning to eye the old, worn photo with wonder and vibrant amusement. "This... This is gold."

"I figured you might like this." Sean continued to smile, "If he's anything like me, he can be a pain in the ass and likes to poke fun at those he cares about. Thought you could use some ammo."

"I'll admit that my stores have been taxed by his antics." She nodded and grinned, setting the mug aside. Atlanteans tabled, the man before her had transformed from officer to father, tattling on his rambunctious son's childhood silliness -- she absorbed it all, like a sponge. "Pain in the ass is often putting it lightly, but changing him would take the fun out having him around." Rochelle admitted.

Sean stood and stretched his old bones. "Commodore, if you will excuse me. I have a meeting with Admiral Red in about 15 minutes."

"By all means, Admiral." The Commodore rose with him, "Thank you for meeting with me... and for Twinky." She winked with a light chuckle.

"Anytime I can be of assistance. Don't hesitate to call. Be safe and I'll see you again shortly." Sean, made his exit into the busy promenade.

The Admiral's hasty retreat left her unable to properly thank him, but left with the nagging feeling that he wasn't just being quaint by saying he'd see her shortly. If she'd learned one thing by working with the man's son, they tended to be quite literal and hard to shake. Like a a bad habit. Retaking her seat, Rochelle blew an exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. Atlantis Prime... Was a bad habit.


---

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

&

Vice Admiral Sean Archer
Retired

 

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