PL | Commodore Ivanova - "Quod Somnia Veniat; Pt IV"

Posted on Sat Jan 2nd, 2016 @ 1:07am by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova
Edited on on Sun Jan 3rd, 2016 @ 10:35am

1,368 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Resurgere

“Javaan?” James asked for the boy’s attention, settling deep into the seat of his saddle in a fashion not entirely unlike lounging on a sofa. The mare’s comfortable gait combined with the scope of the situation at hand seemed to lend itself to such an action. To Javaan, who immediately looked over at the sound of his name, it was most imposing to see the man having gone from stern and sullen to relaxed in such a short span of time.

“Yes, James?” He replied and the rich auburn brow over his left eye slowly inched skyward in both question and curiosity. The sudden change in tone and conversation saw to it that he checked Phoebus’s pace, slowing the animal down and annoying him further. Home was within his range of scent, and home meant warmth, food, and a distinct lack of work – things the Prince seemed not to care about, but were of utmost importance to the horse. His head bobbed and fell with heavy impatience.

James, on the other hand, was of the school of thought that the petulant boy and his horse could wait a bit longer to be garnished with creature comforts. Now in his care, Javaan had a built in alibi for missing not only breakfast, but lunch within the palace walls. “I’ve known you since before you were born,” he started, studying the boy’s face for signs of acknowledgement and response, “and you’ve, for some reason, chosen to confide in me, Hell…” He chuckled, “I’m pretty sure I knew about your first kiss before your father did.”

“I was eight, he’d have killed me.”

“No he wouldn’t, he’d likely have been proud, but that’s beside the point.” James hushed the boy with a scowl and a scoff, “The point is that I know you better than you know yourself, and I can tell when you’re plotting something, so I’m going to ask you this once and only once; what are you doing?”

“…Riding home? With you?” Javaan responded with a shrug.

James sighed heavily, “Don’t fuck with me. You know what I meant.”
The impatience and bubble of vexation in the man’s voice, especially when combined with the dangerous flash of light within those intense blue eyes, warned Javaan that he was treading on thin ice. He wasn’t looking to play, nor was he apt to accept the boy’s affinity for jackassery no matter how modest an attempt at it was being made. Continuing wouldn’t only spell disaster and further provoke James’ ire – something that would lead to a world of punishment Javaan had tipped toed in on more than one occasion when caught doing any number of uniquely stupid things over the years. His eyes immediately cast downwards, studying the rich burgundy of the cloth peeking out from beneath his saddle. “I… I don’t know.” He responded.

“Javaan!”

“No! Seriously!” Javaan’s head snapped up and his hands hauled back to stop Phoebus dead in his tracks, forcing James to do the same to his mare and back her up a stride and a half to be even with the boy. With his reins now dropped to drape over Phoebus’s neck, Javaan gestured wildly with his freed hands, “I don’t fucking know what I’m doing, but I just know that… That we don’t belong here.”

Surprised, James lifted a brow of his own, “What do you mean?” He pressed, narrowing his eyes to study the Prince’s bewildered face.

“I read stuff.”

“Stuff? That tells me a lot,” James sighed, “What stuff?”

Licking his upper lip, Javaan sputtered in frustration, “Stuff about the Federation. Old reports saved by you, mom, and dad. Stuff saved by Almar…” He slumped in his saddle, not daring to look his friend in the eye, “And I may have hacked into journal entries kept by you guys. Blame yourself. You’re the one who taught me this crap.”

“We’ll talk later about you violating everyone’s privacy.” The older man blustered, “I’m more interested in what you meant by us not belonging here.”

Javaan finally looked up, “You really wanna know what I think?”

“Did I stutter when I asked you for your thoughts? I don’t think I did.”

“We belong back in the Milkyway, James. Earth. Sol.” Javaan sniffed, “Not here. This isn’t home, this is just a hide out that Tr’Bak and his puppets know they can’t breach. It’s cheating. We should be preparing to go back and fight for what we’re owed, for fuck’s sake, not playing medieval times and worrying about trade agreements with people that couldn’t give a rat’s nut hair less about whether we live or die!”

For a moment James was silent, stunned by the way his young charge’s thoughts seemed to mirror his own. Maybe he had rubbed too much of his own cynicism onto the boy, but he’d never once made mention of his feelings towards, or about, their situation. That had all been uniquely garnered by Javaan who’d taken it upon himself to educate himself on the topic and draw his own conclusions. In many ways it made sense; the way the boy had spent such a great deal of time ‘escaping’ into the wilderness – it seemed as if the dangers hidden in the dark woods had become an allegory for those hidden beyond the mouth of the wormhole leading back to Federation space and Tr’Bak’s strong hold.

“I want nothing more than to be able to go back to the way things were before, Javaan. I do, but it isn’t feasible,” he breathed, the sharpness of his eyes dulling and clouding with a cresting wave of emotion as he spoke, “but it isn’t that simple. Tr’Bak’s forces number in the millions. The Klingons have undoubtedly joined his ranks rather than face annihilation, and he has the Stenellian Ascendancy in his hands which means he has the Cardassians, Tholians, Breen, and Christ only knows who else all working at his beckon call. We, on the other hand, have one beat up old brick of a ship, a handful of shuttles and freighters, and nothing more. The Atlanteans and Civonians tend to battle like its 1699 all shaking torches and swords at one another. They may be one of the greatest technological wonders I’ve ever seen, but they sure as Hell didn’t concentrate on building war ships. They had no need. Space battle isn’t considered honorable by them, they don’t care enough to want to conquer the universe, and then there’s the fact that the patrol ships your mother had commissioned wouldn’t hold up if we decided to use them in a fully-fledged battle back in Tr’Bak’s candy land.”

“So?”

“So…” James sighed yet again, “you, like me, need to forget that pipe dream of going back and concentrate on making a better future here. Anything else would be considered suicide.”
Javaan snorted and shook his head. When laid out in front of him the way James had spread his proverbial cards, the chances for a successful campaign against Tr’Bak seemed beyond impossible – hopeless, really. “It’s not fair.” He practically whined, reminding himself more of that eight year boy that had kissed the adorable daughter of one of his mother’s senators than the twenty year old man he’d since become.

“That’s the story of life,” James shrugged, “Now c’mon. Let’s get going, I’m starving and I doubt you thought far enough ahead to bring food with you on your little trip.”

He was right. Right about life, and about food – things Javaan couldn’t deny as he quietly nodded in agreement and spurred Phoebus onward to match the suddenly far faster pace James now seemed intent to set.

Life wasn’t fair.

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To Be Continued...
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Commodore Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NCC 78213-E

All other characters loving used with permission of their associated players; APB October

 

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