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

Posted on Sat Jan 2nd, 2016 @ 1:14am by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova
Edited on on Sun Jan 3rd, 2016 @ 10:35am

1,270 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Resurgere

“They say she’s more dragon than Romulan, Your Grace.”

Those eight words were all it took to recapture Javaan’s attention as he sat, bored as ever, listening to his mother’s political advisors harp over the events of the universe. It had been a week since his last outing, the one that had ended with James working to crush his dreams of restoring the Federation and returning their people back to the world they truly belonged. Lifting his eyes from where they’d rested on the small doodle he’d been quietly working on, he was quick to catch James’s own for a fleeting instant filled with dawning curiosity.

Rochelle, blissfully unaware of her son’s budding interest, resettled herself in her seat at the head of the table. Her face, far from willing to show her true age, was illuminated by the shimmering gold and blues of star charts budding from a PADD perched before her. Earth was at the center, spinning beautiful as ever and only an arm’s reach away – if only reclaiming territory were so simple. She’d have been lying to herself if she’d dare state she wasn’t interested in the prospect of one day returning to the home she’d once loved and defended bitterly. So bitterly that it had nearly ended her life on more than one occasion. “I’m not interested in fairy tales, Senator. I appreciate your efforts in following Tr’Bak’s every move, but…” Casting a glance to Landon’s quiet eyes, she nearly sighed. So much had been lost. “I fear it does nothing but waste our time.”

“There’s been rumor that she is the source of our latest run of refugees,” The Senator argued and Javaan could easily see James’ eyebrows knit in a fine frown – an act that wasn’t lost upon his mother either. He watched as the Queen and her top advisor shared a look. A knowing look, one that spoke volumes in some silent form of conversation he’d never quite been able to neither dissect nor understand – but it was one she shared not only with James, but with his father and the Cardassian sat directly to her left as well. It was frustrating to say the least, but something Javaan had long ago decided had come from their years spent together while serving the Federation. Their ‘gift’ of an unwritten, undecipherable language could only have born of the bond they’d been forced to forge with one another; a contribution to the unconditional trust that had risen thick and firm between the foursome. He could only guess at what else had come along for the ride as they certainly did their best to keep their secrets tightly bound, protecting him from the shadows of their past… Or at least they thought they were.

“In what capacity?” Javaan heard his voice leave his lips, could feel it rumble from the pit of his chest – and regretted it nearly in the same instant of its proverbial birth. Rochelle looked at her roguish son, her lips pursing into a grim and dangerous line as she studied him and awaited whatever answer the old Senator would afford him. She knew that the old Atlantean hardly needed any goading when it came to continuing in his own plans and hopes to someday enhance the Republic with the credit of Tr’Bak’s demise – and the sound of the young Prince’s interest only seemed to bring a smile to his wrinkled lips, an act that nearly sent her eyes rolling in their sockets.

Regardless of his rapture in having a willing audience, the Senator, of course, looked to the Phoenix first for approval. However eager as he was to share his mind and the knowledge that it possessed, he knew better than to risk his Lady’s ire – especially after being told to give it a rest. That permission would come by way of a small nod of her regal russet head. “Freeing them from slavery, Your Highness. The reports aren’t confirmed, but there’s reason to speculate that she’s working as a rogue agent in the Milkyway.”

“Admirable.” Javaan’s eyebrows rose and fell with an incredulous shake of his head, “An action hardly Romulan at all.”

“Sounds more like a trap and security threat than some admirable selfless act.” James immediately piped up, working to undo whatever shock the Prince’s words may have sent through the room. It was boldly obvious that the boy had only recently tuned into their conversation, likely at the mention of the most hated word in their combined dialects; Romulan.

“I’d have to agree.” Landon nodded, gesturing his support of James’s assertions.”Tr’Bak and his kin are anything but admirable and anything but selfless.” The King guffawed and folded his arms across his chest, eyeing his son with a mix of concern and intrigue. Anything that garnered his boy’s interest in politics was a reason to celebrate, but not at the cost of possible Romulan support.

It was clear, then, that the dragon they spoke of was none other than Vrith Tr’Bak’s own daughter. A bastard child born of an unknown human woman said to possess a sharp tongue and wicked mind, one that had earned her freedom by slaying Tr’Bak’s own wife and gifting him her head in a silver keepsake box for his birthday. Not unlike her mother, the half-blooded so-called Princess of the Romulan Star Empire had been described as being equally as cunning and vicious – hardly the Romulan version of Robin Hood that was being spoken of by Senator Krayyn. Javaan’s head shook as the color left his face in realization of what he’d said and who he’d said it to.

“It would be admirable, were it true.” He asserted, sitting up in his seat a little taller, “It’s doubtful that Drusilla Tr’Bak has any hand in it. My guess would be that the Vanguard is behind the freeing of these refugees.”

James couldn’t help but smile at the wash of relief that painted itself across both Rochelle and Landon’s faces. “Probably,” he replied to Javaan’s assumption of the Vanguard’s hands being dipped in the Romulan cookie pot of slaves, “It’s good to know that you at least have a couple of those brain cells still firing on all cylinders. Welcome to the party.”

The rest of the table chuckled at the Prince’s expense, but failed to notice the way the young man mouthed ‘thank you’ to his friend for his defense and ice breaking joke.

Boring as it proved to be, it came with a measure of luck that the rest of the meeting went by without further incident, and Javaan made it a blatant point to stay tuned in regardless of how boring and monotonous chit chats surrounding trade agreements, and embargos, was to a young man who’s very lifeblood called for the stars the rest of them seemed far too afraid to take flight within. Their wings had been clipped, or so it would seem, and the lot of them appeared to be more than happy to settle for the rations they’d been dealt.

Javaan, however, could feel himself growing parched and thirsty for something so much more... Something so much greater and so very taboo.

---
To Be Continued...
---

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

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

 

RSS Feed