JDL | FAdm Red & Com Ivanova - "Rise and Rise Again"

Posted on Fri Feb 12th, 2016 @ 10:18pm by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Fleet Admiral Blyx Red

2,053 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Resurgere

No sooner did Blyx’s doors close did she rise from her chair with a heavy sigh. What came next was pivotal, she knew, and so very delicate. It required tea and it required patience, understanding, and a thousand other virtues she wasn’t sure she still had within her to present to the tedious task. Still it waited, wantonly displayed across her desk whether she had invited it or not. It cooed to her, curling its fingers towards her like a paid lover – and she was unable to deny nor refute it.

Looking at Rochelle was almost painful now, not because she was upset or because she felt contempt for the woman she’d once helped raise, but rather because she knew the hurt and disappointment that had torn through her like some sort of tropical disease. It had to have weakened her, should have weakened her, but instead all Blyx could see was stone and fire, ashes and brimstone. She saw resolve etched within the young Commodore’s ice blue eyes – it was a frightening prospect to think that Alexander Hark’s beautiful daughter could have bolstered herself and locked the hurt away so quickly. It was there, she knew, it had to be even if it was buried deep beneath that fierce exterior. What she also knew, however, was that when it finally rose to the surface the results would be simply catastrophic.

“This wasn’t what I expected when I sent you off on this mission,” she began, returning from the replicator with two piping hot cups of tea in her hands, “Romulans, a destroyed flag ship… You being with child.” The latter forced a smile across the aging woman’s lips. The idea of new hope and life springing eternal wasn’t anything she could be upset about, even if the timing was less than ideal for all parties involved. Sliding Rochelle’s cup and saucer toward her, she retook her seat and set about stiring sugar into her own cup of amber strength.

Rochelle shrugged gently and reached, with caution, to take up her own cup. Reading Blyx had never been easy, and the woman was known for being shrewd, cut, and dry. Aunt or not, family or not, the woman was a decisive and devisive Admiral. Trifling with her could and would easily spell disaster and bring about the means to an end that she wasn’t ready to assess or be faced with. For Landon’s sake alone, the blustery redhead held fast to the idealism of temperance. “Some things can’t be avoided.” She replied non-chalantly.

“Burning deltas into the hands of Romulan Senators can be.” Blyx countered, her smile turning wry as she brought her lips to the edge of her teacup.

A red eyebrow hiked high in question while a pink tongue quickly soothed over battle parched lips. All in all, Rochelle resettled in her chair and prepared for the game of wits she knew was afoot. “I’d be inclined to agree were it any other Romulan Senator—“

“But would you be as inclined to agree were it any other Trill doing the branding?” The raven maned Admiral qas quick to cut her niece off at the pass, unable to resist the burning question of the hour as it seared across her tongue not unlike the hot tea she sipped.

It was the question Rochelle knew would come sooner or later, the one that would demand of her to put her career behind Landon’s actions. If she didn’t, and perhaps even if she did, he’d be sent to some Hell hole like Rura Penthe to waste away the rest of his existence in shame. What she sought was to secure impunity, to set him free in many of the same ways he had done for her over the years, and without thinking she felt her head begin to nod, “I would, yes.” She responded cooly, “Captain Neyes acted rashly, yes, but given the nature of his relationship with Tr’Bak I believe that anyone in a similar position would have acted accordingly.”

It was Blyx’s turn to shift in her seat, watching the young woman bolster her case and ready it in defense of the Vindicator’s former Captain. It was no small secret that the two were lovers and that the child growing large in the little Commodore’s swollen womb had been planted there by none other than Landon Neyes himself. As hard as it was to believe that Rochelle was being impartial, the argument remained sound and logical – hardly the emotional pleabargain that could have been expected. “Are you suggesting that Captain Neyes may be suffering from an emotional disorder brought about by his captivity?” She questioned with a tilt of her head.

“Post traumatic stress disorder, to be exact,” Rochelle replied without missing a beat and set her cup down after a quick, soothing sip, “It would be my recommendation that he seek deeper counseling to try and help bring levity to the problem, but it’s without a doubt the reason why he acted so…”
“Stupidly.”

“I would use rashly again, but…” The redhead shrugged, giving way to the Admiral’s choice of verb.

“We’ll stick with stupid.” Blyx sighed and shook her head, pursing her lips as she considered her options and choices. Rura Penthe had been the high choice, the one the powers that were had driven into her soul as the only choice. Sitting in front of the man, and of course Rochelle, however… Her mind had begun to spin and whirl in the worst ways – beseeching and conjuring what could only be described as a migraine. “Why him, Rochelle? Why now?”

It was Rochelle’s turn to rise, unable to harness her anxiety as it bubbled hatefully within her veins. She could feel Blyx’s eyes as they bored into her flesh and followed her as she made her way to the big bay window behind the Admiral’s desk. The stars twinkled brightly, offering to lend their strength to her as push slowly became shove and the hour rounded itself into another. She’d have been lying through her teeth if she’d said anything different than an addmitance of concern and even fear for what lay in wait for those she loved most. “For a long time I loved him as certain dark things were meant to be loved,” she began, wringing her hands together as she spoke soft and slow, “In secret. Somewhere between shadow and the soul.” Looking over her shoulder, she finally made eye contact with the Admiral. It was a personal question with a personal answer, but it needed to be asked and met with a reply. “Like I said… Some things can’t be avoided, and when we were given a second chance I would have been an ungrateful fool just to send him away.”

Blyx was silent, though she nodded in perfect understanding. In many ways theirs was a story not unlike hers with Viktor Dunross. “No, I suppose they can’t.” She all but whispered and rested her palms upon the cold, hard surface of her desk. Dunross was another one that should have spent his entire existence in Rura Penthe for reasons far more blasphemous than burning Starfleet’s insignia into the flesh of a rogue Romulan agent. “He hasn’t reported the incident to Starfleet or the Federation.” She added, her voice stronger this time.

“Excuse me?”

“Vrith tr’Bak,” Blyx began anew, “has disappeared off the grid for near as I and Intel can see. He’s alive, don’t get me wrong, but he hasn’t reported the incident and even the rest of the Romulan government has been suspiciously quiet about it. It may be in part because the Empress of the Ascendancy has stated that what happened that night was an act of misunderstanding and that neither the RSE nor the Federation is held in ill repute by them. Why make a mountain out of a mole hill and all that.”

Rochelle’s eyes grew large and her telltale brow arched higher, if ever that was a possibility. Worked to shuck a wayward strand of hair back behind one of her ears, her head shook, “I don’t understand… The Empress was hiding so much and seemed so entwined with Tr’Bak.” Nothing made sense, but in the same way that confusion washed over her so too did relief.

The Admiral chuckled lowly, darkly, “You haven’t heard,”

“Heard what, exactly?”

“A Romulan Arrain serving aboard the Enterprise executed Empress Psy’Daio Nox shortly after you departed from the party. He was apparently protecting the Princess from her mother’s wrath, and lucky for them both she survived. Xue’Daio Nox is now Empress of the Ascendancy and it appears that Maec tr’Verelan will rule beside her.” Blyx reported as dead pan as possible, not caring to dig through the endless pile of PADDs beside her hands to find the report. She knew Rochelle would take her word for it, as impossible and bizarre as the entire debacle seemed.

“Jesus.” Rochelle released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and a hand rested on her abdomen as she sucked in a new, incredulous breath. “What does all of this mean?” She asked, turning to face Blyx entirely, searching the older woman’s face for some kind of absolution, an answer… Hope.

“Sit down before you fall down, Rochelle,” the Admiral sighed again, flexing her fingers. “It means that with you standing behind Captain Neyes and the incident being pardoned by the Ascendancy and going without mention by the RSE, that I don’t see a reason not to close to case and call it what it is; stupidity gone wrong.”

Following the order that had been given, Rochelle quickly deposited her fatigued form in the chair the woman had previously offered, “Where does that leave the Vindicator? Landon?”

“It leaves the Vindicator as a burning hunk of trash somewhere out in Ascendancy controlled space. They’ve agreed to release the wreckage to us in whole. The Vindicator-E is nothing but a story in Starfleet history at this point, and one you were lucky to survive,” Blyx breathed in response, gesturing towards the elegant redhead sat across from her, “she’ll be rebuilt under your specifications and by a team overseen by Commander Almar Dahe’el. As for Landon? He’s your responsibility, Rochelle. You can do with him as you see fit, but I warn you that this will be the last time I’ll show mercy. We run the knife edge out in these parts and it’s no small secret that the rules and laws are treated more as guidelines than anything set in stone. Your father knew that when he sent me out here, and Starfleet knows that more as they continue to keep this place operational. I may find the fact that he branded the son of a bitch to be hilarious and poetic, but…” She sighed heavily, working to mask the amusement with something more sinister, “I can’t have him going around and treating all of our enemies as if they were cattle.”

“More than understood. I’ll see to it that it doesn’t happen again.” Rochelle nodded in kind, her mind working to process everything and anything being thrown at her. She’d openly expected to have the Vindicator’s name decommissioned, her career thrown away and ended, and Landon to be shipped off to one penal colony or another, never to be heard from or seen again. Instead there was hope, renewal, and the beginning of a new chapter of Starfleet history; the resurrection of the USS Vindicator for the 7th time since her inception.

“I’m sure you will.” The older woman sighed and folded her hands on the desk in front of her, “Now go get some rest. I don’t want to hear of you doing anything else until cleared by medical. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal, ma’am.”

“Good. You’re dismissed.”

---

Fleet Admiral Blyx Red
Cheydinhall Sector Quad Commander
Starfleet

&

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

 

RSS Feed