Starfleet Command https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php Nova, Anodyne Productions' premier RPG management software en-us john.doe@example.com Copyright 2024 All the Situations https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/95 https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/95
Mission - Episode 3: Conflicts of Interest
Location - Deputy Chief of Staff's Office
Timeline - Mission Day 8 at 0845

[Deputy Chief of Staff's Office]
[SFC Complex]
[MD 8: 0845 Hours]


Rob Seaborn was rustling around his new office. He just couldn't get it to the way he wanted. At this point, files, papers, PADDs, and books were all over the place. He kept tripping over everything. At once, he finally stopped, sighed and took a breath. He looked around. He crouched down and began to pick everything up and organize things into piles that he could place down later. Before he could finish, the chime sounded.

"Enter"

Leo entered his protege and former first officer's office. They had known each other since Rob had reported aboard the Nebula as one of his department heads. "I can actually see a floor. Wonder how long this will last" he quipped.

"Heh, funny" Rob said as he turned to Leo. "What brings you to my humble casa, sir?"

"Not sure if its humble" Leo teased. "Have you met the Commander-in-Chief yet?"

The conversation grew sort of serious. "No sir. Why do you ask?"

"Good. Because we have a meeting with Fleet Admiral Sturnack and Rear Admiral Whitford in fifteen."

Rob scratched his chin. "I assume you want to be there early, Admiral?"

"You bet" he gave his deputy a pat on the back. "Need any help before we leave?"

"You know it sir" Rob nodded before he knelt back down onto the ground to pick stuff up.

Leo didn't say anything else and knelt down to begin organizing things. Before the two knew it, it was time for them to go to their meeting with the highest ranking officials in Starfleet. They left the room and made their way over to the CinC's office, walking and talking about various things about their jobs and new responsibilities.

[CinC's Office]
[SFC Complex]
[MD 8: 0857 Hours]


Commander Marlena Glenn looked up as Admiral Lyman and his Deputy entered the lobby of the CinC's office. She rose from her desk and came around it, offering the pair of men a wide, easy smile and a handshake to each in greeting. "Commander Glenn, Aide-de-Camp to the Fleet Admiral," she introduced herself, then gestured towards the frosted glass double doors that led into Sturnack's office. "Let me just poke my head in and make sure they're ready for you, hmm?" And with another smile, she disappeared inside for a few moments before exiting, holding one of the doors open. "All set, sirs. Have a good meeting," Marlena said, waiting for their egress before closing the door behind the men.

As Lyman and Seaborn entered, Fleet Admiral Sturnack sat composed at his desk, hands placidly resting on its mahogany surface. The Vulcan was a bit of a departure from the mental image that usually came to mind when most people thought of his kind. Instead of the typical bowl shaped-haircut and ponderous meditation robes Vulcans were known for, Sturnack wore a crisp Starfleet uniform and bore a hairstyle that could almost be described as relaxingly mussed. He seemed to be in conversation with the room's other occupant, Admiral Joshua Whitford, though it came to a close as the two men came into the office.

"Greetings," Sturnack said, standing up and moving toward the office's sitting area. Unlike Marlena, the Vulcan offered nothing in the way of handshaking. Instead, he lowered himself atop a chintz armchair and gestured for the others to do the same. There was another arm chair and two comfortable couches to choose from.

"It is appreciable to see you again, Admiral," Sturnack said to Lyman, who he'd -- of course -- met multiple times during the interview process for the Chief of Staff position. Finding the man up to the task, Sturnack had decided to hire him, though Lyman's Deputy was an as yet unknown quantity. "You must be Commodore Seaborn. Welcome to Starfleet Command," he said. "This is my Deputy, Rear Admiral Joshua Whitford."

Whitford had been standing near the office's expansive window, looking out at the air traffic flying over the Golden Gate Bridge. A human in his early 50's, Whitford looked every bit the consummate politician as he turned to greet the new arrivals. His smile was warm and welcoming though it failed to reach his dark eyes. "Admiral," he said excitedly, moving to offer a handshake en route to a chosen spot on one of the couches. "Commodore," he extended the same to Seaborn before taking a seat. "Either of you get lost, yet?" Whitford chuckled, commenting on the labyrinthine nature of the SFC Complex.

Lyman and Seaborn both accepted the handshake before moving to their respective seats. Leo spoke up. "Its been some time since I have been back to Earth as it is, let alone Starfleet Command. So I'm still getting used to the layout. I swear sometimes these hallways look the same" he chuckled.

Rob looked at Leo and then Sturnack and Whitford. "I transferred a bit before Admiral Lyman. So I have a tad more luck" the Commodore quipped carefully, making sure he didn't say anything out of line given the CinC, Deputy CinC, Chief of Staff, and himself were all in the same room, despite the fact that he was a Commodore, and thus Admiralty, like Leo and the other two flag officers in the room.

"You know, I've been here for years and I still get turned around sometimes," Whitford chuckled back at Leo. "Sometimes I use a PADD for directions when I have to go somewhere new here," he smirked, settling back into the comfortable embrace of the couch. "Good that you have someone to help you get around, though," he smiled at Rob as he crossed his right leg over his left then, looking quite relaxed despite the heavy amount of brass in this particular meeting.

"Admiral," Sturnack inserted himself into the joking back and forth, eyes fixed on Lyman, "there is much going on at the moment. I realize you are just getting started but how familiar are you with what is happening lately? I am afraid it is rather a lot," he commented, referring indirectly to the artificial solar events in the Chalvana system, the bombing of the Romulan embassy, the assassination attempt on his own life, and his rather scandalizing relationship with Starfleet's Press Secretary.

Leo leaned back in his seat and looked at Rob and then back at Sturnack and Whitford. "I am completely aware of the situation sirs. I have continued to read up whenever there have been updates to any of the situations at hand. Reading hasn't been light" the Admiral chuckled as he attempted to lighten the serious mood a little bit. "In all seriousness, with the situation at hand, what do you need from Commodore Seaborn and myself? Where would you like us to start?" the new Chief of Staff asked of his orders.

"Not to speak for you, Admiral," Whitford inclined his head towards Sturnack, "but...we're kind of stuck in the mud around here a bit. Could use some of your muscle to help push us out. The Admiral has been very proactive on the, um," he tried to sound delicate, "relationship scandal but when it comes to the rest, your attention will help a lot. Let's have you coordinate with Admiral Brannigan on the Chalvana front. He's been investigating the source of the technology used to trigger the solar eruption. Admirals Zuul and Dexu," he said, "can assist on the assassination attempt. They've just conducted a joint raid on the complex our would-be assassin was operating out of."

Sturnack remained quiet for a few moments, which was a tacit agreement that he agreed with Whitford's proposed course of action. However, he did have something to add on top of the DCinC's plan. "Despite my...proactivity," he chose the word with care, "with my relationship with Captain Blake, I would recommend meeting both with her and Admiral Andolini to discuss the matter. They may require additional support or resources from you to continue their efforts."

Not that he wasn't used to this level of "new endeavors" but he was being thrown directly into the fire with this new job. Which ultimately made sense to him. It wasn't anything he couldn't handle. On the plus side he had Rob's help as he was his deputy. "Understood sirs. We'll get to work as soon as possible" he looked at Rob. Leo then focused on one of the main issues going on. "If I may, regarding the raid, have Admirals Dexu and Zuul reported in with their discoveries yet?"

"They just got back this morning," Whitford said. "Couple hours ago. If you could could ping them and get a detailed briefing, that would be great. I'll admit," he smiled wolfishly, "I'm a little curious about what they found out there. It's amazing what people will do in rural areas when nobody is watching. Honestly?" he mock-shivered for effect, "I'd be surprised if there aren't at least five other groups out there making similar plans. These people are whacko," the Admiral said, rolling his eyes.

"Or perhaps just very misguided?" Sturnack asked, speaking up. To Lyman, he said, "It is possible that past aggression from non-human races has triggered these individuals into deviance. Their motivations may go beyond simple explanations of rootless hatred. Hopefully whatever the Admirals' teams have uncovered will help to illuminate the situation," he said with a nod.

Leo nodded. "I'll speak with the Admiral's and their teams" he turned to look at both Sturnack and Whitford. "What are we doing to boost security. Especially if there is any sort of risk of this happening again?"

"While we can speak to it generally," Whitford responded, "your best bet would be to connect with Rear Admiral Zuul. As Director of Homeworld Security, he'll have the most up-to-date information on their plans. That said," the DCinC's face grew cloudier, "we've stepped up security around here a lot. And my understanding is that the new head Ambassador from the Romulan Embassy has also been suggesting some potential courses of action. Might be good to connect there, too," he nodded.

The doors of the office whirred open and Marlena stuck her head in. She said nothing but, once Sturnack had looked her way, she held up two fingers before ducking back out.

"I believe," Sturnack's fingers disentangled from their steepled repose, "my next meeting is waiting outside. Was there anything else you needed, Admiral?" he asked of Lyman, his tone a transitional one. It wasn't unusual for touchbase stints like this one to be brief: Commander Glenn did her best to work immediate needs into the CinC's schedule where she could, but that often meant only getting 5-10 minutes of Sturnack's time some days.

"I don't believe I have anything else for you sir at the moment. I will also touch base with those required for the situations we discussed" he turned to Rob. "Do you have anything else for the Admiral?" he asked as he began to stand up since the meeting was coming to a close.

Commodore Seaborn followed suit. "I have nothing else sirs" he nodded.

"Very well," the Commander-in-Chief nodded as well. "Admiral Lyman, Commodore Seaborn," Sturnack said in the wake of their departure, using tone that was customary for the ending of gatherings such as this one.

"You fellas take it easy," Admiral Whitford said, effusing his own brand of informal charm into his tone. As the pair made their way out of the office and the next began to enter, the DCinC looked over at Sturnack.

"They seem like a good team. On paper and in person, I'd say," Whitford noted. "Certainly can't hurt to have them using their talents on our behalf around here. Might have saved us some trouble earlier on, having them around." It was a quick dig at the Vulcan -- no doubt in reference to his situation with Jocelyn Blake -- and it wasn't meant kindly.

But with the arrival of the next meeting, Sturnack had no time to respond, even if he'd wanted to. Whitford was good at keeping his passive aggression with him more private these days, adopting a guerilla warfare approach of dropping such comments in at inopportune times where others could not overhear. It was a bit like having a younger brother who was on his best behavior in front of others but, the moment they left, dropped the veneer.

The Vulcan wondered -- now with more helpful and capable players on his team -- how much longer he would still need to lean on Whitford's particular brand of getting things done around the SFC Complex...

=/\= A joint post by... =/\=

Fleet Admiral Sturnack
Commander-in-Chief

Rear Admiral Joshua Whitford
Deputy Commander-in-Chief

Rear Admiral Leo Lyman
Chief of Staff

Commodore Rob Seaborn
Deputy Chief of Staff]]>
Sat, 09 Dec 2023 06:44:10 +0000
Raptor's Flight https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/98 https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/98
Mission - Episode 3: Conflicts of Interest
Timeline - Mission Day 1 at 0000

[Bridge, Romulan Warbird Grindore]
[A Few Days Ago...]


Sub Commander Paltek stood from his command seat and peered around his bridge."Status." He called from his elevated perch. His eyes now trained on the forward viewer. The image displayed Romulus below them, the day barely starting. It was a breathtaking sight to be sure, one that Paltek never grew tired of seeing. He hoped that to one day share the view with his children and grandchildren, so that for generations to come his family would know the beauty of their homeward firsthand.

"Ambassador S’Ranya is prepeared to board. Her cargo is being loaded." A Centurion called from his station at the fore section of the bridge. "We should be ready to depart within the next 15 minutes sir."

"Orbital Control signals clear to depart as soon as we are ready sir." A female Romulan called from an aft station, her voice was heavy with a thick Northern accent..

"Outstanding." The Sub Commander said. “I suppose I should go welcome the Ambassador.” He had read the Ambassador's dossier, and was eager to find out what was the truth of her character. "Carry on." He said, crossing to where the lift was. The doors hissed open and he stepped inside. Now alone, Paltek closed his eyes and took a deep breath, silently hoping that the rumblings about S'Ranya were exaggeration and fairytale.

[Transporter Chamber, Romulan Warbird Grindore]

The sensation of the transporter was in no way new to her, yet it always took the Ambassador by surprise.The warmth of the transporter beam enveloping S’Ranya faded as quickly as it had come. She was left standing on the platform flanked by her personal assistant, Undersecretary D’Darra and her Security Officer, Major Reilan.

The Ship's Commanding Officer stepped forward, his hands grasped behind his back. “Welcome aboard the Grindore Ma'am." He allowed his mouth to pull into a welcoming smile. "I am Sub Commander Paltek. We are pleased to have the honour of escorting you to Earth, Ambassador.”

The older woman stepped down from the transporter platform. She wore a smokey grey skirt suit, with a deep purple blouse. The heels of her shoes clicked as she descended the few steps to meet the Sub Commander. She did not, however, stop at him to accept his greeting. She instead, carried on past him, her party in tow. “Yes, yes.” She said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Let’s get moving, shall we?” The Ambassador had made her way to the door.

Paltek was taken aback. He wasn't certain whether this slight was directed entirely at him or whether it was indirectly a slight to Praetrix Donatra. “Yes ma’am, may I show you to your quarters?" He followed the trio into the corridor.

“I think we are capable of finding them without assistance.” S’Ranya said, her voice sounded annoyed now.She turned a faced the Sub Commander. In her heels they stood eye to eye. She lifted a manicured hand and patted his on the cheek. To any onlooker it might look tender, but to Paltek, the cold of her rings sent a shiver down his spine. “You just focus on getting the ship where I need to be.” She smiled, and turned away from him.

“As... as you wish,” The Sub Commander stammered. He came to attention as the Ambassador led her companions past him and down the corridor to the lift.

Major Reilan stopped and turned back to face the Sub Commander. His uniform was that of a Tal Shiar officer, and was pristine in its condition. “The Ambassador would appreciate," He began, his voice sounding confident and even, "If you and your crew would not disturb her. " He smiled and impossibly white smile. "Overly eager officers give her migraines.” Reilan was a handsome man, his eye glistened like the waters of the Apex Sea. "Better hop to Sub Commander, we need to get underway." The Major turned and continued in the direction taken by the Ambassador.

[Bridge, Romulan Warbird Grindore]

Sub Commander Paltek looked positively shaken as he returned to the Bridge. “Report.” He called, a hint of annoyance at the situation with the Ambassador lacing his voice.

"We are loaded sir." Came the Centurion's voice.

"Clear all moorings." Paltek commanded, standing in the middle of the Bridge.

"Moorings cleared." Came an unplaced voice in response as Paltek resumed his command seat.

"Set course to Earth." The Sub Commander called out, his eyes once again trained on the image of Romulus. He could only hope that he would see it again soon. "Activate cloak, and engage at Propulsion Factor Six." Sub Commander Paltek stood as quickly as he sat. "I will be in the Ward Room. Alert me if there are any issues, otherwise let me know when we've arrived."

[Guest Quarters, Romulan Warbird Grindore]

Meanwhile, several decks below the ship's command centre, S’Ranya entered the sparse cabin afforded to her for the journey, D'Darra followed close behind. The Ambassador's eyes narrowed. "I had no idea we would have this type of luxury aboard." She spoke sarcastically.

D’Darra winced at the jab. Fearing blame would fall to her for not ensuring something better. Major Reilan entered the room and looked around.

Lowering herself into a hard looking chair situated below the rooms only porthole, S’Ranya let out a sigh of relief. "Well we certainly have outdone ourselves." She mumbled trying to get comfortable. She watched as Reilan placed a case on a small table and began to unpack a number of data pads.

A small chirp came from D’Darra’s bag. She reached in, producing a handheld communicator. The stout Romulan woman held it to her ear. A moment passed and she closed it and replaced in her bag. "The Bridge informs me that we are underway now."

Suppressing a yawn, the Ambassador said groggily, "Wake me for in two hours will you?" Her eyes scanned the spartan room for what the Galae would classify as a bed. "I'm afraid Sub Commander Paltek has given me a migraine."

She looked back at Reilan. "I'll read those when I wake," She said moving towards the cot tucked away in the corner. "Inform the Sub Commander we will require the Wardroom, and no one will be permitted inside until we are done."

S'Ranya lowered herself onto the cot and stretched out. "No longer than two hours D'Darra." She ordered, turning her back to the rest of the room and hoping she would able to rest.

=/\= A post by... =/\=

Ambassador S'Ranya
Head, Romulan Embassy (Earth)

and

Undersecretary D'Darra (NPC'd by Nate)
Ambassador's Aide

and

Major Reilan (NPC'd by Nate)
Security Attache

and

Sub Commander Paltek (NPC'd by Nate)
Commanding Officer, Warbird Grindore]]>
Thu, 16 Nov 2023 20:05:29 +0000
Not My First Choice https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/96 https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/96
Mission - Episode 3: Conflicts of Interest
Timeline - Mission Day 1 at 0000

[Romulan Hall of State]
[A Few Days Ago...]


The Romulan sun was barely over the horizon when S'Ranya stepped out of her vehicle, having arrived at the Hall of State ahead of her meeting with the Praetor. It wasn't everyday that one was summoned by the seated leader of the Romulan Star Empire, and so S'Ranya wanted to be prompt. One had to respect the authority and ceremony of the office of Praetor, even if the person in the role was undeserving of that respect.

The Atrium was filled all manner of government bureaucrats starting their day. The sounds of low conversation met S'Ranya's ear as she approached the security desk. "Step into the scanner." Ordered the guard seated at the desk.

S'Ranya complied. The soft click of her heels echoing throughout the atrium.It only took a moment for the scans to happen and she was waved through by the guard. She was approached by a rather official looking, yet pleasantly plump, Romulan man. His hair was greyed and receding. He had the distinctive features of a Northerner. "Jolan tru, Ambassador. If you would follow me."

'Does he truly believe that I do not know the way?' S'Ranya thought. She kept pace with the man, her eyes focused forward.They came to the end of a long corridor and the man gestured to the Ambassador to sit.

"Praetrix Donatra will be with you momentarily." He said. Without looking at her, he turned and left. His footsteps echoed in the empty corridor.

Near S'Ranya's sitting place was a door leading into the Praetrix's small-but-private study, two armed guards stationed at either side of the portal. Donatra was known for taking meetings there rather than the ceremonial hall her forebear enjoyed. Unlike Praetor Hiren, this Head of State came from a military background and was much less fixated on the pomp-and-circumstance of the role. His insistence on ceremony and the accoutrements of State were more about feeding his own ego than benefitting his Empire. It was just one of the reasons Donatra had collaborated with Shinzon to replace Hiren.

But, of course, that coup had gone entirely sideways on her and Donatra had had to help quell the impacts her own mistaken machinations. It'd been a learning experience of the extreme but she'd taken her lesson well. And as a boots-on-the-ground style leader, Donatra had little time for or interest in pompous grandeur. Thus S'Ranya had not been summoned to the throne-laden main hall but, instead, the private office. Perhaps unexpectedly, however, there came no signal for the ambassador to enter the study. Instead, a cadre-in-miniature of security personnel exited the room, preceding and tailing the Praetrix as she slipped into the hallway to join S'Ranya.

"Jolan tru, Ambassador. Walk with me," came Donatra's half-order, half-invitation. Bedecked in utilitarian garb rather than something more formal, the Praetrix looked down at the sitting S'Ranya with a mixture of severity and calculation.

S'Ranya stood and smoothed any wrinkle that may have formed in her outfit with her delicate hands.The Ambassador had served under numerous Praetors, Donatra was an enigma among them. The Praetrix scoffed at the ceremony and grandeur that was a pillar of the Empire's elite since before living memory. Still, the authority that Donatra commanded was somewhat enviable.

Falling in line with the pace of the much younger Praetrix, S'Ranya made a note of the guards positions. "I must admit my surprise at being summoned here." S'Ranya conceded, keeping her eyes straight now and not looking at Donatra.

"It is regrettable that my hand was forced in doing so," Donatra replied, also not deigning to look at the elderly woman at her side. Whether it was the situation or S'Ranya herself that was regrettable went, for the moment, unsaid. The Praetrix continued forward, talking as she walked. "As you are aware, our new Federation embassy was bombed upon its official opening and Ambassador Tiveren," she named the head of the contingent assigned to Earth, "was slain. Ambassador R'kul has been attempting to look after our interests there but recent weeks have proven him...less than effective." Donatra turned a corner then, leading them down yet another hallway. The guards repositioned themselves around and ahead as needed to ensure her safe traversal.

"Put succinctly," the Praetrix continued, "I want you to take charge of the embassy. You will leave in the morning for Earth. The Grindore will ferry you there. Sub Commander Paltek will see to your timely arrival. R'kul is already aware that he is being replaced." Donatra fell silent then, giving S'Ranya time to absorb this perhaps surprising news. "You should know that I'd originally given this assignment to Tiveren over you. But now it seems I've no one more qualified to take his vacant posting." The last was added with a terse note of lament as the Praetrix came to a stop and, for the first time since setting out from the study, faced the Ambassador.

"You may retain R'kul if you wish," Donatra explained, "though beyond bringing you up to speed on the events there, I see little use for him personally. His reports are lengthly but say almost nothing," the Praetrix chided derisively. She handed over a display device then, nodding to it as an indicator that it contained said reports. "You may also take any additional staff you require to replace the seven we lost in the blast. My understanding is that the damage to the property has been repaired and those responsible apprehended. But," she held up a forefinger, "I believe there is more to this than Starfleet or the Federation are either willing to admit or capable of uncovering."

It took a beat for S'Ranya to sort through all of the information that was thrown at her during the short walk. She pursed her lips, "I am appreciative of your confidence in this." She faced Donatra. "I am, of course, ever a servant to the Empire." She did not bow as would be customary. "I do, of course, accept. But I want to ensure we have an understanding. I must be given the latitude to run the Embassy in my way."

The lack of a bow was noticed though went uncommented on for the moment. "Of course you are," Donatra replied haughtily. "Ever a dutiful daughter of the Empire. I expected no less," the Praetrix commented dryly. At S'Ranya's mention of running the embassy her way, the head of state's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. She realized then her mistake. In revealing that S'Ranya was her only choice in this matter, the Praetrix had ceded some of her power and authority over the situation. Clearly, the Ambassador was under the impression she could use this to her advantage.

"You will operate for the greater aims of the Empire, as dictated by me," Donatra said cooly, rising to her full height. "However, I have little time and little interest in holding your hand through every bit of day-to-day minutia. You may see to operations as you wish, assuming you meet the goals set out for you and our presence on Earth. Should I find that your way subverts the Empire's agenda in any fashion, however, you shall be recalled in shame and another sent in your place -- qualifications be damned. Is our understanding as clear as you would like?" the Praetrix asked sweetly, a dare to defy her infusing her tone and expression.

The ambassador did not answer. She didn't nod her head.Once again S'Ranya pursed her lips. "I shall make the necessary preparations to be aboard the Grindore before departure." She began to search her mind for references to Sub Commander Paltek, whom Donatra had indicated would command the vessel. She couldn't recall any information. She mad a mental note to search for his service record as soon as she left the Hall of State. "Should I expect a dossier on the who's who on Earth to go over while en route?"

It was the Praetrix's turn to purse her lips. Her eyes flicked to the display device she'd handed S'Ranya only a few moments prior before fixating, again, on the ambassador. "R'kul's reports contain detailed profiles on the major players. His estimation of transpiring events is sub-par, at best, but," Donatra shrugged ever so lightly, "his read on people is slightly more useful. You will find some very helpful information contained within," she said, gesturing to the PADD.

"I would begin your self-education with the dossiers on Federation President Najale Patel and the Starfleet Commander-in-Chief, Fleet Admiral Sturnack. From there," the Praetrix continued, "I'm sure you will figure out who is worth the time to read up on or not. Your way, of course," she called back to S'Ranya's earlier comment, her tone only slightly edged with steel. "I will expect your first report within two days of arrival. Jolan tru, Ambassador," Donatra nodded, the audience clearly over.

Entourage in tow, the Praetrix hastened her steps, leaving S'Ranya behind with a PADD full of information and her own thoughts.

S'Ranya raised an eyebrow and let out a small chuckle as the group left her standing in the corridor. With the PADD securely in hand, the older Romulan woman turned back the way they'd come and started the route back towards the Atrium. She passed by the same plump man who had escorted her when she had arrived , he nodded to her professionally as she made her way out of the government building.

She descended the steps from the Hall of State towards her waiting vehicle. Waiting next to the door was her driver, a relatively young man, at least compared to S'Ranya herself. He opened the door on her approach. "Home, Derin." The man nodded.


=/\= A joint post by... =/\=

Praetrix Donatra (NPC'd by Brad)
Leader, Romulan Star Empire

and

Ambassador S'Ranya
Head, Romulan Embassy (Earth)]]>
Thu, 16 Nov 2023 20:02:20 +0000
Show Me Yours https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/94 https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/94
Mission - Episode 3: Conflicts of Interest
Location - The Castro, San Francisco
Timeline - Mission Day 6 at 1930

The first thing Jocelyn noticed when she and Sturnack materialized at the public access transporter was color. A brilliant rainbow was painted on the wall across from the pad and the idea that her extremely Vulcan lover stepped off a pad to be greeted by a rainbow everyday struck her as an extremely amusing dichotomy. She turned her head to study his profile, appreciating the curl of dark hair against his elongated earlobe. His face, however, gave nothing away.

They had come from the terminal in Cow Hollow a few blocks from her apartment. She'd been quick in packing an overnight bag, aware of the Vulcan waiting with extreme patience in her living room. Now they stood just outside the Castro transport hub, her Vulcan companion looking placidly at the streams of people moving up and down the street. Around them, the CinC's contingent of security officers fell into place and, after diligently looking around, indicated it was safe to proceed.

"Lead on," Jocelyn said as a wiggle of nervous energy made it's way through her.

Lead on, Sturnack did. The Vulcan navigated them down the street a few blocks, then turned to take another block west. It was dark at this point and the puffs of their breathing caught in the streetlights as they walked. The Castro was one of the more historic areas of the city, having long been a bastion for those who were Other. A Vulcan on Earth certainly fit that bill and it was with confident steps that Sturnack brought them to a small apartment building nestled amongst other, similar structures. Looking at the building's façade, it was clear that it could only contain five or six units at best but it had a rather charming look to it. Next to the door, a plate of names assigned to buttons announced who lived here: the Vulcan's moniker was attached to the topmost button.

"My apartment is on the top floor," Sturnack explained, placing his thumb on the door handle's sensor plate. The ornate, golden handle scanned his biometrics and unlocked the door, which swung open with a creak as the Vulcan led Jocelyn inside. The door closed behind them as Sturnack moved to summon the not-so-turbolift with a button press. In old buildings like this one, ancient-style elevators were still in service. They waited quietly until, finally, the elevator doors slowly opened, permitting them entry even as another resident exited. She seemed to know the Vulcan -- or at least be familiar with him -- as she greeted the man as she passed.

"Would you like the honors?" Sturnack asked pointedly, gesturing to the panel of glow-limned buttons. The number 6 shone out at them from the top of the button bank. "I've found that many humans find this type of lift antiquated but interesting," he offered in way of explaining his offer for Jocelyn to do the button pushing.

Eyebrows raised and lips pursed in amusement, Jocelyn stretched out her pointer finger, pressing the button inward and releasing it to a satisfying return of the button to its original position. Shortly after the lift began the trek upwards, making her eyes widen. Antique elevators were clearly very different from modern day turbolifts. For a moment an imagined image, something dredged up from holo-movies that her mother had loved when she was a kid, flashed through her head. The redheaded heroine and her hero waiting innocently as the lift doors closed only to pounce on each other as soon as the lift started into motion. They'd part quickly moments later when the lift doors opened again looking only slightly more disheveled than when they went in making it clear what they had been up to. Of course the thought ran through her head with very specific players in mind and with it her cheeks flushed red and she pressed her lips into a thin line together while keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the lift doors.

Sturnack noted how the novelty of the elevator entertained the woman. To him, it was just a physical action that he repeated a few times each day. Taking the antique elevator was as natural to him as a whisk-you-away turbolift. But the Vulcan found himself interested in Jocelyn's reactions, though, not just her physical responses. A looping pinky found its way around hers and, suddenly, an unintentionally blaring surge of emotion engulfed him through the link they shared. It was a powerful wash of feelings and they left behind a very clear idea of what the man should do next. As the elevator rose to the second floor and then the third, the Vulcan turned and leaned in, gently pressing his lips against Jocelyn's.

If the sudden, belly tickling, shift of the elevator had surprised her at first, she was completely unprepared for the surprise that accompanied having an image in her head turned into reality. Had she realized he would reach out like that she might have attempted to temper the way her thoughts had wandered, but it was too late now. She met his kiss with her own, less gentle, response, turning in toward him. Somewhere the back of her mind screamed that she should be careful about touch. That she needed to be aware of how much she was transmitting. But that part of her was very promptly drowned out by the ridiculous joy she felt at being kissed. And joy it was. Joy and relief and the looming memory of other things that had become reality for them barely a week ago.

After a moment, though, she heard a ding and, like the heroine in her mental image, she pulled back, pulling her hand free of his so he could be free of the absolute turmoil of emotion that had overtaken her. Wide-eyed, she looked at him. Opened her mouth. Closed it. Repeated those two things again. And then, because she couldn't help it, grinned like a teenage girl.

"Interesting. You are without speech," Sturnack commented, allowing his hand to gently fall at his side. "I have heard that intimate contact can often cause breathlessness and an inability to form, much less voice, coherent thought," he continued, gesturing the woman out of the elevator and into the hallway beyond. He'd, of course, felt all of the emotions running through Jocelyn's mind, though they were loud and jumbled. He thought he picked up a wisp of confusion along with the joy; felt Jocelyn question the closeness and the touching. It was understandable: they were, after all, trying to find and explore the new boundaries that being together entailed. And Sturnack, for his part, was operating without any kind of helpful playbook.

"It's apartment 4B," Sturnack sounded, rounding a corner and coming to the door marked as such. Allowing his hand to linger on the door pull, the bio-metric sensors confirmed his identity and released the lock with an audible click. With a turn and a push, the door opened onto a spartan apartment with an open-style floor plan for the living room, dining room, and kitchen.

The first of the rooms contained the main living area: there was a couch in brown leather and two matching arm chairs, all situated to face the large viewscreen inset into the wall. To the left, a large picture window showed the twinkling street below and the high rises of the Castro beyond. Behind the couch and chairs, curious but very obvious Vulcan-looking artifacts tastefully adorned the wall situated there. Missing were any of the accoutrements found in Jocelyn's place: there were no cozy throws, pictures of loved ones, foot stools, or other homey-feeling items.

Mind still a jumble of contradicting emotions Jocelyn trailed a few steps behind Sturnack. Once he'd turned his back to move down the hall she'd absently brought her hand to her lips, fingers lingering there for a just a second as she worked on regaining her faculties. To the Vulcan's credit, he was right. She had been speechless, but her lack of any verbal feedback hadn't seemed to bother him so rather than say anything more she simply followed him into the apartment, coming around to stand next to him and take in the space that was his.

The very first thing to strike her about the minimalistic style of his apartment was that it was, undeniably and very appropriately, him. In fact it so much screamed Sturnack, or maybe more appropriately Vulcan, at her that she found herself holding her breath, as if her mere presence there might disrupt something. Although none of the haphazard homey details of her own apartment could be spotted, upon a second scan she began to pick out details that struck her as unique to Sturnack and not just generically Vulcan. The leather of the furniture spoke of a certain appreciation for fine, yet comfortable things. And though the items on the wall were undeniably, culturally, Vulcan in nature, she spotted a thread of grey-blue in some of the objects. She didn't know how much color preference went into things for Vulcans but she knew his favorite color was blue.

Not waiting for an invitation, she made her way over to the wall to look at each object more closely. "Which is your favorite?" she asked after a moment, casting a look back over her shoulder in his direction.

"The IDIC," Sturnack replied without needing time to think. He gestured to the famous Vulcan symbol, which hung on the wall behind the couch. It wasn't obnoxiously big but sizeable enough that it felt proportional to the furniture. The wall hanging was clearly made of very old stone and was completed in three parts: a circular background with a triangular base that jutted into the circle, terminating in a dull red sphere. An elegant display of plant stem-like calligraphy flowed up the base.

"My people value infinite diversity in infinite combinations," he explained. "This piece is several hundred years old and has been in my family for many, many generations."

Jocelyn had moved towards the IDIC as Sturnack spoke, her hand half raising before it occurred to her that maybe she shouldn't touch the centuries old family heirloom. Her hand dropped to her side as she gave voice to a thought.

"Is that why you've always been most attracted to non-Vulcan lovers?"

Had he been human he might have been offended. Vulcan, she wasn't sure how he would react. As it was the words were out of her mouth before she realized she probably shouldn't have given them voice. Her cheeks flushed hard.

"I have heard it said that 'opposites' attract," Sturnack replied without needing to take a beat. "I have taken Vulcan lovers from time to time. Particularly during the Pon Farr," he clarified. "While those times have been...sufficient," he chose the word carefully, "I have not wished to form lasting relationships with them. They're of my own culture...something of which I already know a great deal about. I prefer, instead, to explore my opposite; to find wonder in the unimaginable. My preference for non-Vulcan suitors is a point of great disagreement with my mother," he noted. "Would you care for some wine? A bottle was gifted to me by Vice Admiral Shu for Christmas. I believe it is over 100 years old."

The detail of his answer surprised Jocelyn nearly as much as the fact that he had an answer at all for her offhand question. For the second time that day she found herself speechless, turning to look at him appraisingly for a moment, a small smile and no small amount of curiosity on her face. "I... would love a glass," she commented, turning away from the wall and the IDIC. She was right behind him headed into a small kitchen area when another thought occurred to her. "Your mother..." she said slowly... "How... umm... did she take the news? About us, I mean."

"She is not yet aware," the Vulcan said matter-of-factly, moving deeper into the kitchen and pulling a corkscrew out of a drawer. Sturnack then retrieved two wine glasses from a cabinet and set them down on the counter. "We rarely communicate, my mother and I. And when we do, my...personal life is not a common topic of discussion. We have both agreed that the less she knows of my extra-Vulcan affairs the better. I assume," he noted, "that she will find out about us when the rest of the Alpha Quadrant does: with tomorrow's airing of the interview."

The bottle of wine -- a Christmas bow still attached -- had sat gathering a few days of dust on the counter but was now retrieved, the corkscrew plunging deep into the cork. With an audible pop, Sturnack pulled the wooden stopper from the bottle and poured two glasses of the burgundy liquid. One was handed across to Jocelyn while the Vulcan raised the other in a toasting gesture. "To new beginnings," Sturnack offered, clinking glasses and taking a sip.

Jocelyn accepted the glass gladly, echoing Sturnack's toast softly before taking a sip of her own while she considered what he'd said about his mother. The dark burgundy liquid was dry on her tongue and heavy with dark berries. Swallowing, she held out the glass, swirling the liquid in it and raising her eyebrows at the legs forming on the glass. "That's... a really good wine..." she commented appreciatively.

Both were quiet a moment, whether savoring wine or lost in their own thoughts, it was a comfortable silence. "My parents were surprised," Jocelyn finally said. "A little bit disappointed to find out this way. I think I turned the image of their little girl married with children on its head a bit with the news. They'll recover though. Mom made me promise to bring you home sometime." She glanced up at Sturnack, wishing she was a better judge of his body language, before her eyes returned to her hands on the stem of her glass. "I told them I wasn't sure when that would work, but that I'd ask you."

"It should be noted," Sturnack said, taking another sip of his wine, "that Vulcans and Humans are biologically compatible when it comes to creating life. Our pairing does not automatically mean your parents will be bereft of grandchildren. Unless, of course, you would prefer our copulation to not eventually produce offspring. As for meeting your parents," he sipped yet again, "I would be amenable to becoming acquainted when you feel the time is correct, however awkward such a meeting might be."

Not anticipating her lover's response, Jocelyn had brought her wine to her lips, and had a mouth full of wine when Sturnack, in true Vulcan fashion, commented on the possibility of offspring from their copulation. Forcing herself to swallow the wine, she made a face as it burned and then, realizing how easily that could be misinterpreted, turned wide eyes on the Vulcan.

"Do... umm... is that a thing you've... thought about?" She managed to stammer. The initial shock of finding them talking about whether they might someday consider having children had shifted from intense surprise to a complicated bundle of emotions that made her stomach twist. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. The temptation to reach out and touch him... to share the torrent of conflicting emotions, was strong, but she didn't know what he'd do with the extremity of them. Instead, she set her glass down and wrapped her arms around herself.

"I believe this conversation is, perhaps," Sturnack's right eyebrow arched, "premature in the typical cycle of human dating practices. However, if you wish to have it now, we certainly can," he nodded, setting his own wine glass down next to Jocelyn's. "I would, ideally, like to create offspring that will continue my family's line and legacy. However, I do have siblings that already have children, so this is not essential to our pairing, Jocelyn. I could, as humans are fond of saying, 'go either way' on this. What about you?" the Vulcan wondered, hands placed placidly atop his knees as he spoke. He appreciated that the conversation might be awkward for the woman but was unsure of how to make it less so. He offered his hand, should she wish to take it.

For a moment, Jocelyn simply looked at him. Not in alarm or with the look of someone who needs to process something, but just... looked. She took in the details of his features--the darkness of his eyes and the fierce sweep of his brows. The way his hair defied some of the Vulcan stylistic norms while somehow also seeming to honor them. She let herself picture them standing like this in a year. In ten. And as quickly as she did so, the twist in her stomach began to unknot. The complicated emotions were still there, but the tension seemed to ease and so she picked up her wine glass and, with a tilt of her head and a small smile suggested, "This conversation may be a sitting down kind of conversation."

The couch in Sturnack's apartment was no where near the same as the couch at the Fortress, but somehow Jocelyn still found herself occupying a spot on the end, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet up underneath her. She angled her body toward him and, seeing he'd set his hand where she could reach it, she carefully slid her fingers against his palm, lightly tracing her fingertips along the lines of his hand rather than letting her hand rest in his. The connection that had come into being with the dramatic resolution to Pon Farr sparked back into life giving Sturnack a view into the complications of her thinking on this particular topic. Intrigue was there, curiosity paired with a willingness to sate that feeling. And there were spikes of uncertainty and worry--a degree of which seemed to be pointed at how Sturnack might react to her though to what exactly wouldn't have been clear. But underlying all of these was a calm well of affection, anchoring her emotions in trust and the continued pull of what lay between them.

"It's not uncommon for humans to talk about whether or not they want to have children early in a relationship. Maybe not... this... early... but still. It's not uncommon. We've had so much thrown at us, though, that we've hardly had a normal start. And, honestly, I haven't had much time to dream about it yet." She paused there, as a shot of worry ran from her to him. "But even then, it's... very easy... easier than I would have expected... to imagine us together. Together in such a way that children would make sense. And that is... exciting... and terrifying... and... and comforting all at once." Her explanation was halting as she tried to settle on the right words. "I'm an only child. And I would love to have children someday. Maybe two? I don't think a lot of children. Honestly, it's always felt so far off... there's never really been anyone I'd... consider that with... before."

Sturnack allowed the contact even though the emotional connect was like a microphone with the gain turned way higher than it should be. While his own emotional undercurrent flowed like a quiet brook in the woods, Jocelyn's emotions were akin to a thunderstorm overhead. The Vulcan would soon need to teach her how to lessen the intensity of her broadcast but now was not that time. Instead, he nodded as she spoke of her desire to have a child or two but likely no more, feelings of concurrence bubbling beneath the placid surface of his thoughts.

"Our pairing is quite new but," Sturnack began, "I can see the possibilities as well, Jocelyn. While I am not an only child myself," he alluded to his siblings, "I can understand how being such might confer a desire to have multiple children. Should our pairing prove successful," and there was a subtle questioning of that in his emotional spectrum, "I believe we could offer a lot to our children. But perhaps we are putting the proverbial shuttlecraft before the ship?" he asked, his right eyebrow arched.

It was the questioning, subtle as it might have been, that pulled her back to the moment and away from the desire to careen into what ifs that neither of them could truly answer. It reminded her of why she was there. What it was that she had hoped to do while they spent time together. She was quiet for a moment, still tracing his palm, before slowly withdrawing her hand and breaking their connection. The temptation to remaining touching was strong, but she wanted him to hear her and draw his own conclusions before they shared the emotions underpinning everything.

"That seems like as good a reason as any to have the conversation I mentioned earlier," she said. Her tone was quiet and warm, though perhaps a bit uncertain. Without his emotions she was forcing herself to pay attention to body language. It wasn't that Sturnack had no body language so much as it wasn't as clear to her as it would have been if he was human. "Is it ok if we speak about things we... need... from each other now?"

"I believe that would, indeed," Sturnack arched an eyebrow, "prove most prudent. Tell me, Jocelyn," he took another sip of his wine, "what are the things you will require from this relationship? I will do my best to assess my current ability to manifest those things for you," he said, dipping his head with a bit of reverence for the woman who'd done more than just share his bed. She'd become very close to him and, behind Vulcan stoicism, he kept space for her in his heart.

She nodded once, chewing on the corner of her lip as she did, and then again as if psyching herself up for something. "There's really... two... things that stand out to me. The first, I think, you're already aware of. I want to spend time with you. Need to, if we want this to work. To get to know you. In some ways I feel like I know you more intimately than any partner I've ever had before. In others... there's just so much to learn, not just the obvious things about your heritage, but about you. I want to know..." here she faltered, scanning the space as if it would produce the words as she gestured carefully with the hand holding the wine glass. "... what your favorite foods are. And what you look like when you wake up in the morning. And... and... what you do when something doesn't go how you expect."

As Jocelyn began to explain her needs, Sturnack listened attentively. It surprised him that she wanted to know about the mundane aspects of his life. Logically speaking, why did what he chose to eat have bearing on their relationship? Or her feelings about him? The fact that Jocelyn enjoyed wine had little effect on how he thought of her, after all. But then the voice in his head that was Ovrora reminded him that not everyone was Vulcan, even as relaxed a Vulcan as he was himself. If this was something Jocelyn needed, then perhaps it didn't matter if he understood it or not.

"I appreciate you expressing that," Sturnack nodded slowly. "And you have my permission to inquire as to anything you would like to know about me, Jocelyn. Perhaps I will even have questions of my own," he said, falling silent for a few moments in thought. "You mentioned a second request as well?" the Vulcan asked then, eyebrow arched.

While she had felt confident in her first request, the second she felt less confident about. In so many ways what she was going to ask of him felt selfish. He had already made her aware that it was something Vulcans didn't do, and so she struggled with how to ask. "The second," she finally said, "is... affection... I don't mean we have to be affectionate the way that human couples are. I understand that's not what you... want... but... I also can't go without it completely. Affection... preferential affection... is one of the ways we," here she gestured at herself as if she were indicative of the entire human race, "show that we care about someone... romantically." She felt her cheeks flush then as she continued. "It's how we indicate sexual attraction as well, and it comes so natural to humans that without it..." She sighed. "I know it's more complicated for us with this." Both hands went up, one empty and the other pinching the wine glass by its stem,

"My mother raised this concern once," Sturnack admitted. "As you know, I once...fancied," he chose the human expression, "another. When speaking with my mother about pursuing Ovrora, she asked how compatible a companion I would be to someone who is so different from us." He took another sip of his wine, more to give himself a moment to think than to satiate any sense of thirst. "It is, perhaps, unfair to you that I am not more...physical outside of biologically-compelled couplings. I am rather new to pairings with non-Vulcans," he admitted. "And while we are physically intimate with one another, it is also different. Perhaps we could explore something of a middle ground between what you need and what I am conditioned to provide?"

"A middle ground would be amazing," Jocelyn said, relief flooding her reaction in a way that she hadn't anticipated. It clicked in her as it did that she had expected him to say no. That this was something she thought he might not be willing to do and that she had been preparing for him to do so in the way one prepares to be rejected. Awkwardly, with the flow of emotion she felt that relief manifest as her eyes blurred for a moment. She lifted her glass to her lips, sipping the wine slowly and dropping her eyes to her lap, buying time to get the mess of her emotions under control.

"And what about you?" she asked after a moment. "Those were the two biggest things I had. And I promise to be open and come to you if any others arise." She sipped her wine again, quickly this time. "What do you need from me, though? How can I help meet you halfway?"

"I...am unsure," the Vulcan began, sounding a bit at a loss -- a surprising tone for one of his kind. "My relationship experience even amongst my own people has been so limited. I do not believe I even know what my particular needs are," Sturnack commented. "And if I am unable to articulate them for myself, it is an impossible task to communicate them to someone else." He reached forward to take Jocelyn's hand then, intending to allow her to feel the emotional undercurrents he kept buried. Almost immediately, however, he let the touch fall away as the flood of her relief and other emotions assailed him. A slight twinge of his facial features underscored the effect of the touch-telepathic link that had momentarily formed between them; the Vulcan looked almost in pain.

"I do know that our...bond," Sturnack referred to the link by looking down at their almost-touching hands, "is difficult for me. When we touch, the strength and complexity of your emotions is challenging to endure. It is like..." he searched for an analogy she would understand, "it is like trying to fill a glass of water from an open fire hydrant. It is hard for me to stay on my feet with the water blasting, if that makes sense. I wish to provide you with the emotional intimacy you require but I cannot stay standing in the stream for long," he admitted. "I could, perhaps, teach you how to temper your flow...if you wish, of course," Sturnack added.

She felt that sudden jot of connection, the depth of him, come into sharp clarity and fall away just as quickly as he pulled back, and she frowned as he did. This time, though, he was explaining and as she listened understanding--a missing piece to the puzzle of affection and give and take--seemed to fall into place in her head. Eyes widening in understanding she set her wine glass down on a nearby table and pulled her hands into her lap. Although it wasn't meant to be a gesture of separation the move may well have come across as such. Instead, though, she knit her fingers together, fingertips pressing into the backs of her hands one after another in a sort of quiet self-driven reassurance.

"Yes," she said, the word tumbling out of her much in the way she now imagined her emotions must. "I..." she closed her mouth, pausing again to consider her words. "This bond is something extremely... special. I can't imagine that there are many humans who ever get to experience it." She glanced down at her hands, feeling the way her fingers felt against each other and imagining his own fingers in their place. "I... I am always going to feel deeply and I am sure it will be messy, but I feel like I've been granted a gift. Like... like a secret Sturnack decoder... and I want to have that. Want both of us to have that. I want you to feel me and me you, but... but in a way that is good."

She was rambling. She realized it and quickly closed her mouth again, pulling her lips back in-between her teeth in a way that was reminiscent of someone holding back an enthusiastic child. "Please teach me," she said quietly.

Sturnack nodded to this. "I...would like that as well. This bond we share is quite unexpected," the Vulcan explained. "Amongst my own people, touch telepathy and the sharing of thoughts is an accepted -- even desirable -- practice. But it is usually in a controlled setting and done with great forethought and purpose. The strength of our," he gestured placidly to both himself and Jocelyn, "connection when touching comes as a great surprise. But not wholly an unwelcome one. If we can both temper the intensity of your transmitted emotions and help you to read the...subtlety," he chose the word with precision, "of mine, then I believe our endeavors together will be more successful."

Sturnack, too, set aside his wine glass and then raised his right hand in a customary gesture his paramour might recognize from her own familiarity with his people and culture. Forefinger and pinky were poised to press against both the left temple and cheekbone of Jocelyn's face, though he did not press his fingers to them quite yet.

"The teaching process will take time, Jocelyn," Sturnack said calmly. "And before we begin, I will help you to create some temporary barriers that will act as training wheels of sorts." Again, he used a human analogy to help his partner better understand his intent. "These barriers will allow us to touch more freely for a time while we put in the work to help you learn to establish barriers of your own," he explained.

"To do this, I will initiate a mind meld if you are willing," the Vulcan said, no trace of pressure or desire to convince present in his tone: this would be completely Jocelyn's un-influenced choice. "These barriers will only last for a few days, perhaps a week, and will need to be refreshed as we continue to work together on your own control. Do you consent?" Sturnack asked, moving his hand slightly closer into a ready position.

Eyes already bright with her enthusiasm at the prospect of being taught a way forward, Jocelyn's gaze took on a new intensity as the reality of what Sturnack was proposing sunk in. All of the things she'd learned from him to date... the nature of Vulcan romantic relationships, the mating bond, even the night they'd spent appeasing the pon farr and averting the dangers of blood fever... none of these had been known to her before those moments. This, though, was known. She was familiar, at least in principle, with the idea of a mind meld and knew that to do something like this with a human was, like the mating bond, extremely intimate--perhaps in some ways more so.

Eyes searching his face for some kind of clue Jocelyn released a long slow breath and nodded. "I do," she said.

=/\= A Mission Post By =/\=

Fleet Admiral Sturnack
Command-in-Chief of Starfleet

Captain Jocelyn Blake
Press Secretary
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Mon, 06 Nov 2023 20:17:43 +0000
The interview https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/93 https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/93
Mission - Episode 3: Conflicts of Interest
Location - Tribune Towers, Chicago IL Earth
Timeline - Mission Day 4 at 0930

[Tribune Towers]
[Chicago, IL]
[MD 4: 0930 Hours]


The Tribune tower in Chicago had been standing for centuries. It was the amusing irony that with the Federation News Service coming in to play, the two big Chicago papers still clung to their independence, even though they worked hand in hand with FNS.

It was just tradition, so the paper still came out, Sal was in the lobby just for a quick brief before they went up for the agreed to interview.

He just waited for Jocelyn and Sturnack to come in so he could get them ready with a bit of a brief and then they were on their own, one of the rules that was set up, he can't go in to the interview.

Sturnack and Jocelyn had beamed into a public transport booth just down the street, appearing amidst the morning hubbub of thoroughfare activity. Given that it was two hours later in Chicago vs. San Francisco, the business day was fully in swing for those walking the streets of the famous "Windy City." But for the Vulcan and his paramour, it was still early morning...prime coffee time before the day started in earnest. Well, on most days at least. Today, given the translocation of timezones, the pair had indeed beamed into the thick of a morning already in progress. Six Starfleet Security officers walked ahead and behind, creating a loose perimeter.

Chatting as they walked, Sturnack and Jocelyn marveled at the city around them. San Francisco had plenty of skyscrapers but the buildings here were of a different style; older, it seemed, and designed with an entirely different aesthetic. Sturnack called out some of the more interesting variances as Jocelyn sipped coffee from a streetside cart they'd passed. The two did not hold hands or entwine arms as they walked, the news of their relationship not yet commonly known. But all of that, of course, was about to change. The Vulcan anticipated that the walk back would involve significantly more looks directed their way.

Having reached the appropriate building, Sturnack held the door open for Jocelyn to enter, then followed behind. Admiral Andolini was visible in the lobby and it was to him that the pair approached. "Greetings Admiral," Sturnack intoned. "We are appreciative of you setting up this morning's interview."

Jocelyn was all nerves in a Starfleet uniform. Her Captain's pips felt conspicuous that morning, no doubt a possible source of questions during this interview as the two of them worked to control the narrative of their nascent relationship. She was tempted, as she approached Sal Andolini, to hug the man. She'd not worked with him long before she and Sturnack were hurried away to the Fortress, but he'd already proven himself to be one of the best men she'd worked under. His willingness to help in this moment was not lost on her. His reputation, to some extent, was on the line as well with this favor he'd called in.

"Good morning sir," she said in greeting. "Think they're ready for us?"

"I think so." Sal paused, "Then again, I'm just here to brief you a bit, Marrina did request no spindoctors, so I'll be able to talk but it's the both of you talking to her."

Jocelyn nodded at that, confirming her understanding though a thoughtful look settled on her face. "Any gotchas we should look out for?" she asked. She didn't know Marrina beyond the woman's reputation, but it did seem that Andolini had a relationship with the woman that was strong enough that he ought to know if they were walking into anything worrying.

Sturnack looked at Andolini with a neutral gaze. The man had proven himself capable as a Communications Director, though the Vulcan wondered if Sal lamented having to call in personal favors to spin this particular story. "Yes," he began aloud, arching an eyebrow, "what pitfalls should we expect? Are there any statements you think we should absolutely be sure to make?"

"With Marrina, best bet is to just be honest, big speeches look too rehearsed, she won't try any gotcha questions, or play any games." Sal paused and looked at the large oil painting of Col Robert Mccormack, the man who built this building and was one of the more influential editors and wondered what he would think of this situation or the situation in general., "Main thing we want to present is true love united, and show you're just two decent people who found each other."

"Indeed," Sturnack replied. "As a Vulcan, I am not prone to big speeches or prevaricating commentary. However, I can, at times, be a bit...blunt," he added, his thoughts drifting back to the bombshell he'd dropped on Sal and his family on Christmas night. "Jocelyn has been coaching me on how to be more delicate," the Vulcan said, meaning to assure Andolini that Sturnack would not purposefully do anything to derail the interview.

Jocelyn had nodded along to Andolini's comments. All of the things he'd said made sense to her. It was as much a matter of reminding herself of things she already knew as anything else. "When we've had time," she said, "I've tried to explain some of how this kind of interview works," she clarified. She had talked with Sturnack about it, but they'd had so little time together that she could hardly call the conversations they had coaching.

That got an approving nod from Sal, "In this case blunt is the best way to be." They were walking through the lobby to the elevator and began the ascent to the 10th floor. "Any last minute concerns, questions, angry comments?" Sal figured a little humor to cut the mood, even with Sturnack's emotional discipline, it couldn't hurt.

Jocelyn glanced over at her superior officer and tried for a weak smile. She knew he was trying to help and she appreciated it even if her stomach was churning at the thought that the whole world... plus some... were about to know she and the topmost officer in Starfleet were an item. It felt like the weirdest kind of holo-novel in that moment. The kind that doesn't happen in real life.

"Remind me when this will air?" she asked hoping she would remember, in the middle of everything, to call her parents. She still hadn't gotten up the nerve to do it and she didn't want FNS to be the way they learned this news.

Sturnack, meanwhile, had his hands clasped behind his back and his chin tilted ever so upward. It was a customary stance for the Vulcan, who always appeared so poised and calm. Little did his elevator companions know, however, that he wasn't as perfectly in control as they might think. This was going to be difficult for him; difficult to resist his urge for privacy and invite the entire Alpha Quadrant into his personal affairs. But Sal and Jocelyn had both been right in that this was the correct course of action to take and, thus, the Vulcan had to come to terms with this invasion of his personal life. "Yes, when will everyone see this?" Sturnack echoed the question.

"My understanding, probably a Sunday special, get the most audience." The doors opened and they began the walk, "So anyone you need to tell, do so as soon as possible."

A small wiggle of discomfort settled in Jocelyn's belly. She'd considered who she needed to tell--her parents topped her list. But she hadn't determined, yet, whether or not to tell Jordan. On one hand, as her best friend, she couldn't imagine not telling him. But on the other... he was her deputy and was a likely target once this came out. He might fare better if he were able to say that he hadn't known anything before the rest of the world.

Sal paused as the door opened, then they were met by Marrina Pol, a familiar face to most people her dark hair spilling her shoulders and dressed in more subdued tones, she walked up to them and smiled, "Sal, welcome back to your old stomping grounds. This must be Captain Blake and Sturnack. Welcome."

"Thank you," the Fleet Admiral dipped his head in appreciation before entering. He walked far enough into the room to allow Jocelyn entry behind him but not so far as to presume where he should stand or sit. He'd leave that up to Pol, who no doubt had specific ideas on that front. "We are appreciative of the opportunity to speak with you. I am, of course, Fleet Admiral Sturnack," he said, not offering his hand as a human might. Vulcans were, after all, quite touchy about being touchy. "This is Captain Jocelyn Blake," he turned to nod towards the woman behind him.

Unlike Sturnack, Jocelyn stuck her hand out automatically. "It's a pleasure to meet you Ms. Pol. Admiral Andolini has shared how much he respects your work. Thank you for taking the time to talk with us."

"My pleasure", the two women shook hands, "We'll get started in a minute, right now someone needs to go down and argue with the Sports department again, they're trying to say Gm'Pok will not be a good draft pick for the Packers."

Sal nodded, taking his cue. "Let me know when they're done."

Sal walked off, his usual lack of military bearing showing as he headed over to discuss the NFL draft with a few of the sports reporters.

"Sal Andolini an Admiral. Not the usual cut of a military leader." Pol smiled, "C'mon back to my office and we can start."

Were this any other interview Jocelyn would have been perfectly at home without the safety of having Andolini nearby. She'd done enough of them over the years even through the period of intensive questioning that followed her expose of Admiral Leyton. But this one felt different, and so she tracked the Admiral's movements as he went before turning back to Pol and nodding, pulling out a smile meant to cover some of the nervousness she felt.

Pol led the way through into a decently sized office, set up with a small couch fronted by a coffee table and flanked by two overstuffed high back chairs. At the opposite end sat the reporter's desk with an inset console and another set of chairs, these more utilitarian than the seating arrangement that Pol waved them over to now.

With a quick glance Jocelyn settled onto the couch, waiting for Sturnack to follow suit and then, aware of the image they were meant to project, let herself relax towards him until their shoulders brushed and she could tuck her hand under his arm, resting it on his forearm. Close enough that if touch was called for it would be manageable, but far enough that there wasn't a danger of accidentally initiating the still bewildering emotional link that came with satisfying the Pon Farr.

"So," she said, addressing Pol directly, "where do you want to start?"

Sturnack lowered himself into position as well, noticing the arm snaking around his own. The sleeve of his uniform was properly fit, extending all the way to the hem of his hand. If Jocelyn wanted or needed to connect with the Vulcan during the interview, she would need to touch his hand directly, it seemed. The Fleet Admiral looked at Pol expectantly while also glancing around for a camera device, given that the interview would be recorded and broadcast.

She chuckled, "Everyone does that, we hide the cameras, so it's more like a conversation." There was a pause, "Let's begin, You have been one of the most gossiped-about pairings, that's not in the entertainment sector. Let's start at the beginning, what started this relationship?"

They'd been told to prepare for this and even talked with Sal through a sort of mock interview, so the question wasn't a surprise. Still, when it came to answering on camera, Jocelyn found herself hesitating. "Well," she said slowly, squeezing Sturnack's arm as she looked over at him with a small smile. "I don't honestly know that I can pinpoint that exactly. Call it a whole series of kindnesses and friendship that just... added up... until I realized there was more there than just friendship. At least... for me..." She pressed her lips together quickly, eyes dancing as she dove further in to rip the band aid off. "And then an attempt was made on Sturnack's life..." This too had been practiced... using his name rather than his rank to separate them from their work. "And it wasn't clear at the time who the target was, so we found ourselves sequestered away together. And... it all happened very quickly from there."

That got a nod, "And, do you see this as a long term relationship?"

It was Sturnack's turn to speak up. "On Vulcan, relationships such as this are not entered lightly. I, myself, have taken that careful approach to even greater lengths than most of my kind would. Having spent over a hundred and twenty years of my adult life without romantic entanglements," he continued, "I can tell you that my relationship with Jocelyn," he too used her name instead of her rank, "is no dalliance. What we have discovered in each other is important to pursue," Sturnack affixed Pol with a placid expression, "despite the challenges our working together might present." As coached, he'd brought up the workplace romance angle proactively, so it did not appear as if they'd not thought of the topic already.

She paused, good the transition would start, "As C-in-C of Starfleet, you are the overall commander of Starfleet, but are you Captain Blake's direct superior?" She knew if she didn't bring this up the interview would be accused of a puff piece, and she was too much of a professional to soft ball things.

"I am not," Sturnack conceded. They'd been advised to speak to this point in particular, so the Vulcan was satisfied that Pol had brought it up herself. "Captain Blake reports to Admiral Sal Andolini, the Director of Starfleet Communications. While Captain Blake does periodically brief me on certain matters, all aspects of managing her performance in role go through Admiral Andolini. This separation of command oversight was in place long before either Captain Blake or myself stepped into our respective roles."

The obvious question seemed likely to be next. She didn't report to Sturnack, but she did have his ear. "I am, on occasion, asked my opinion of things," Jocelyn piped up. "But those are always within the context of my job and my background experiences. Typically Rear Admiral Whitford or Admiral Andolini are amongst the group when that is the case. As Press Secretary it is my job to consider the goings on that the galaxy has a right to know about while taking safety and propriety into consideration. All true press persons have this mandate and my relationship with Sturnack doesn't change that."

That got a nod, She then moved along deciding to add a soft question to bring folks back to the love story. "So....When do you meet the parents?"

Unable to help herself, Jocelyn blushed prettily at the question. "We haven't had a chance to... ahm... look at everyone's schedules yet," she commented. In truth she had not yet spoken with her parents and didn't know if Sturnack had spoken to his mother. She was holding onto that until after they had taped the interview today. She wouldn't let them learn it by watching on television, but it had been long enough since they'd brought someone home, let alone someone whose race and position was bound to raise eyebrows. "But I'm sure we'll arrange for something as soon as is convenient. It's always a bit tricky working around everyone's schedules when you work at Starfleet Command."

"We are quite busy, it is true," Sturnack nodded slowly. "But there are other elements in play as well. My people can be quite insular, especially when it comes to mating outside of our species. Approval from my family," his thoughts instantly went to his mother, "is not desired nor required."

The Vulcan knew that, upon viewing the interview, the matriarch of his family would put on a good show for her colleagues and the rest of the family. She'd adopt her customary aloofness and project a sense of being above it all. She'd likely espouse her son for yet another misstep in his personal life and simply carry forward. But deep down, it would rankle her, whether she'd admit it or not. Sturnack was not a vindictive person but sparing his mother that mattered little to him.

Her reporter instinct knew there was something there but she nodded politely and looked for a new set to talk about.

They'd not spoken much about their families, truthfully. In so many ways they had done things out of order with the seriousness and intensity coming first and the things that came along with building a relationship second. She felt a bloom of warmth and deep tender affection toward the man she'd fallen for so quickly and hard. Gently she slid her hand forward, eyes still on Pol who was guiding them into another set of questions, and brushed the tips of her fingers against the inside of Sturnack's wrist. It was a simple gesture and brief, but the touch was just long enough to spark their connection, sending a brief flash of the tenderness she felt toward him across before it and her fingers, were gone. When she'd moved her hand back out of reach of his skin she gently squeezed her hand on his forearm.

Nodding and grinning genially at Pol, she chuckled, and opened her mouth to answer.

=/\= A Mission Post by =/\=

Fleet Admiral Sturnack
Commander in Chief

Rear Admiral Sal Andolini
Communications Director

Captain Jocelyn Blake
Press Secretary

Marrina Pol (Written by Pat)
Reporter
]]>
Mon, 30 Oct 2023 23:23:56 +0000
Not the Romulans You're Looking For https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/87 https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/87
Mission - Episode 3: Conflicts of Interest
Location - Admiral Dexu's Office
Timeline - Mission Day 2 at 1300

[Admiral Dexu's Office]
[Starfleet Intelligence]
[SFC Complex]
[MD 2: 1300 Hours]


Lieutenant Attol surveyed the room and nodded to himself, satisfied with how he'd carried out his assignment for the Admiral. With the upcoming meeting between Dexu and the invited parties -- Director of R&D, Admiral Brannigan and Romulan Ambassador tr'Lito -- the lieutenant had been asked to ready the office for company and ready it, he had. There were bottles of water arrayed on a side table against the wall, including some of those fancy green bottles Attol knew some people favored. He'd also laid out an array of savory and sweet finger foods, meant to quell hungry stomachs given that the meeting was set to take place during the normal lunch hour: some topics just couldn't wait for regular meals.

Waiting for Dexu on his desk was an ice cold sweet tea that came all the way from the Horseshoe Cafe, a coffee and tea shop that was quickly becoming popular with the upper echelons of Starfleet leadership. Attol had the baristas brew the tea fresh just for Dexu: a special treat on what Attol knew was a stressful day. With preparations ready, all that was missing was Admiral Dexu himself and the other invitees. Having also been tasked with taking notes during the meeting, Attol moved to stand near the table full of water and snacks and waited unobtrusively for everyone to show up.

Tenai arrived at his office seeing the excellent work from his aide and the drink on the desk he smirked as he looked at his aide "Outdoing yourself as always Lieutenant! This is an excellent piece of work." He walked over to his desk and took a seat making sure he had everything in order for the meeting with the Admiral and Ambassador. He took a sip of the sweet tea and let out a satisfying sigh. It was some good tea and Attol had picked up on his love for sweet tea. He heard a chime at his office door and pushed the button under his desk, which opened the doors.

They opened to reveal a man in dark, forest green robes with sharp, padded shoulders in the style favored on Romulus. Ambassador R'kul -- newly appointed in the wake of the embassy bombing -- stepped inside, his eyes sweeping the room as his robes swished at his feet. "Admiral," came the man's cool, crisp clip. "I am appreciative of our inclusion in this meeting. I assume I am the first to arrive? Not including yourself and your aide," the Romulan said, looking down his nose at Attol. He assumed the underling was there to serve and availed himself promptly, disregarding the beverage choices arrayed on the table. "I prefer Romulan rakthal, a sparkling beverage whose molecular pattern you'll find in the database we shared with your people."

"Of...of course, Ambassador," Attol nodded quickly, moving to the replicator. "I should have thought to offer a selection of Romulan beverages. My apologies."

"Yes. Yes you should have," R'kul replied. "But I still appreciate the gesture," he allowed, moving forward towards Dexu. He did not reach out a hand in the human custom, preferring to nod his head as means of introduction. "Ambassador Grathon R'kul, at your service, Admiral. Ah yes, thank you," he said to Attol as the requested beverage was handed over. He lifted the glass to study the liquid in the light. "A passable replica," he intoned.

Tenai smiled at the ambassador "You are the first to arrive, but it is my pleasure in a situation where all parties need to be involved I felt there was nothing better than making sure we are all present."

"A wise take, Admiral," R'kul nodded slowly, sipping again from the beverage he'd been given. There was little more to say until the remaining Admiral joined them, thus the Romulan ambassador fell into silence.

Richard hated to be the last person to arrive at a meeting, but there had been things that needed his finalization before he could go. So here he was, the last to arrive. Glancing at his wrist chrino, he noted that he was not late. That was something, at least. Reaching the office, he tapped the door chime and awaited the invitation to enter. What awaited him inside he could only guess at, and he preferred not to do that as it bordered to closely on assuming.

Tenai opened the door for the late arrival and smiled "Welcome Admiral! I am glad you could join us. Can my aide get you anything to drink?"

Attol looked all too eager to please. "We've a selection of waters laid out but if you'd like something replicated, I'd be happy to get it for you," the young man said, smiling warmly.

Richard studied the aide for a moment, a slight smile curving his lips. God, had he ever been that young and eager? "I would actually love some Spiced Chai Tea, if it's not too much trouble. Thank you," he told the young man before turning his gaze back to Admiral Dexu. "And thank you, Admiral," he offered politely as he moved farther into the room. His eyes then took in the ambassador, and he tilted his head respectfully. "Greeting, Ambassador."

"One spiced chai tea, coming up," Attol smiled and bowed his head, backing away from Brannigan. He moved over towards the office's replicator and got to work filling the Admiral's order.

Ambassador R'kul, meanwhile, merely nodded to Brannigan. "Admiral," he said cooly before taking a sip from his replicated rakthal. The Romulan moved as well, positioning himself near the large picture window that looked out over the bay. He observed the shuttle passing by before turning once again, this time to face Dexu. "Shall we begin these proceedings then?" he asked pointedly, as if he'd been kept waiting altogether too long.

Attol, meanwhile, had come back over and passed the tea over to Brannigan. "There you go, sir," he whispered before making himself scarce, moving to the corner of the room to take notes on a PADD.

Richard acknowledged the young man politely but silently as he took the tea from him and then moved to take a seat in one of the chairs in the room. "Of course, Ambassador," he responded with proper respect for the man's position. Richard's eyes then turned to regard Dexu as he waited to be told what was needed of him.

"So...now that we have drinks and comfortable places to sit," Dexu said, lowering himself into a chair himself and hoping R'kul would join them, "we should discuss the problem facing us right now. Frankly, the Chalvana system is a mess right now, as you both know. What isn't common knowledge is that the mass coronal ejections aren't a natural phenomenon. We've found evidence that Romulan technology was used to create them. Now I'm not saying it was the Romulans," he looked over his shoulder at R'kul, "merely that Romulan technology has been found. Admiral Brannigan, I sent you the specs on the equipment we found. Any thoughts?"

Richard frowned as he looked down at the PADD he had brought with him. "On the surface, and to cursory scans, the equipment looks to be of Rihannsu design and construction," he began, using the Romulans' name for themselves out of respect. Setting the PADD down, he took a handful of computer control chips from his pocket. These he dropped onto the desk.

"However, when we took it apart and examined each piece more deeply, we discovered those." He motioned to the chips on the desk. "While they look normal for Rihannsu technology, they are not made of the correct material."

Picking up his PADD once more, he brought up the scan readings his people had taken of these chips in a side-by-side with typical readings for Rihannsu control chips. He then handed the PADD across the desk to Dexu.

"The readings on the left are typical readings for this type of Rihannsu chip. On the right are the readings we took of those chips." He then waited for Dexu to review the readings.

Dexu's eyes narrowed as he reviewed the findings. "That's...odd. I'm not an engineer but these definitely don't fit what we'd expect to see. Ambassador?" he asked, turning to regard R'kul and offer the PADD for review. "What do you make of this?"

R'kul moved across the room with grace, extending his right arm to take the PADD. His eyes, too, scanned back and forth across the device's display, a huff of disgust finally expelling from his lips. "We told you it wasn't us. This confirms it. But," he psuedo-seethed, "I do not recognize to whom this technology actually belongs. I'm assuming your team has been working on such?" he asked of Brannigan, thrusting the PADD back at the man.

Richard was, fortunately for this situation, not a man easily offended or annoyed. He simply took the PADD back from the agitated -- no, that wasn't strong enough -- Rihannsu ambassador with a nod. "Indeed. We are running every test known and a few we're inventing just for this case to determine as much about these as we can. What we have so far, however, doesn't seem to match any known species' technology." He frowned now, obviously not pleased with the next bit. "The possibility exists that whoever constructed those expected us to eventually figure this out and made them just different enough from their own technology that they wouldn't be easily traced. We are looking into that possibility as well."

"Is the tech kit-bashed?" Dexu asked, not being an engineer himself but certainly having heard the term before. "Made from multiple components from different races' tech?" the Admiral wondered aloud, trying to think through the possibilities. The idea of the saboteurs using technology that could keep them from being identified unnerved the man, even though it did make quite a lot of sense.

Richard frowned. That was a term he hadn't actually heard in a while, but he of course knew what it meant. He shook his head after a moment. "No, not so much that as altered tech. FOr example, if I took a Starfleet tricorder and used a slightly different casing, customeuzed its circuitry just a bit off of Starfleet normal and then, for good measure, made it of slightly altered versions of our materials. It would look different enough that it would not be easily identified as Starfleet. Nowq, that examhple is simplistyic, but it gives the general idea. If we knew to suspect Starfleet in that examhple, we might easily see the differences. But since our list of suspects is not narrow, there are a lot of permutations to check."

Dexu nodded slowly, following his permutations of thought through to their conclusions. "So the solar events were created by tech that appeared Romulan," he offered a reassuring nod to R'kul, "but, in reality, is something that's been altered and repurposed from standard. We've certainly had Federation technology that's been commandeered and corrupted for nefarious purposes. Sounds like the same has happened here. Is there any way," he looked at Brannigan, "to trace altered components back to their place of origin?"

Richard nodded, though his expression was somber. "There are several, but they all take time. Currently, I have split my team, a small section each taking one of the possible ways and looking into it. This way, we waste no time with the 'wrong path'." Taking a sip of his tea, he returned the mug to his knee. "We did even check the possibility that it could be Rihannsu but altered to throw us off the trail. Meaning, we'd get it, go over it, see the modifications that say it isn't their tech, and eliminate them out of hand." He could almost feel the ambassador's eyes boring holes in him. In R'kul's place, Richard felt that he might do the same, so he continued to give the ambassador clarity. "This idea that there could be a faction of their people working against their government's interests was what prompted us originally to scan the thing so deeply. This, of course, as you can see, had the benefit of proving conclusively that the tech is not Rihannsu in origin, period. But it does leave us with the problem of deciphering who it does belong to. I and my people will not stop until we have the solution for you, sir," he assured.

"I appreciate the diligence you and your team are bringing to this," Dexu nodded. "It sounds like you're doing all the right things here. Would you agree, Ambassador?" the Trill asked, looking at the Romulan with a neutral expression on his face. In asking the leading question, it was as if he were daring the Ambassador to speak out in opposition. And perhaps he was doing that but it was important that this meeting end with a tacit agreement on both the situation and the next steps that were required.

R'kul narrowed his eyes at the obvious trap that had been laid out before him. If he disagreed with Dexu, the onus would be on him to come up with a plan: at present, he had neither the authority nor all of the information needed to formulate such. If he agreed with the Admiral, however, he would be locking his people into whatever course of action Brannigan and his department settled on as they continued their investigation. Neither choice was palatable but, in the end, he simply nodded. "Of course, Admiral," the Ambassador said.

Richard nodded, retrieving all of the bits he had entered the office with. "Thank you, Sirs. I will get back to it then, with your permission." At Dexu's nod, Richard gave him a salute, gave R'kul a nod of respect, and left the office to continue his work.


=/\= A joint-post by... =/\=

Lieutenant Darren Attol (NPC'd by Brad)
Attache Officer to Admiral Dexu

Rear Admiral Tenai Dexu (NPC'd by Brad)
Director, Starfleet Intelligence

Rear Admiral Richard Brannigan
Director, Starfleet Research and Development]]>
Mon, 30 Oct 2023 16:14:34 +0000
The Spectre of James Leyton https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/91 https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/91
Mission - Episode 3: Conflicts of Interest
Location - Starfleet Headquarters, San Francisco
Timeline - Mission Day 2 at 1130

[SFC Complex]
[San Francisco]
[MD 2, Immediately after Legalese]

Jocelyn waited until they were out into the main corridor before she drew to a halt and turned to face Romanowski. She drew in a breath and then let it out slowly. "I know your time is incredibly sought after," she began, "but if you have a few minutes I'd be glad to speak with you privately. I... have some additional concerns about the news that the Fleet Admiral and I just shared with you, that I don't want to bother him with."

Thomas pulled up with her and turned to face her. He could see the worry and anticipation in her eyes and nodded. "Of course, let's discuss this in my office," he said motioning for her to follow him. After the short walk down the hall, he rounded a corner and spotted Sandra seated at her desk outside his office.

"Sandra, Captain Blake and I have a private matter to discuss," he said as he stepped aside for Blake to continue into his office. "No disturbances please," he said as Sandra nodded. With the doors to his office closed, he indicated one of the open chairs before taking his own seat behind the desk. He held up a finger to stop Jocelyn from speaking as he input a few commands on his computer situated on the desk. He then looked back at Jocelyn with a nod.

"One of the benefits of being the JAG is having a soundproof office. Everything you say now will be protected by privilege," he said before leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers under his chin.

"That's a nice bit of tech," Jocelyn commented as she sat. "I appreciate the extra caution, though it may not be necessary." A small knot had formed in her stomach as they got settled and now it felt like it was tightening. She had to fight the urge to cross her arms over her chest, an instinctive protective measure that was not only unnecessary but might send the wrong message in this conversation. With a sigh, she looked across the desk to the JAG. "I know we've spoken about the propriety or impropriety of my new... relationship..." she began slowly, "but there were issues that included threats and vandalism before the Fleet Admiral and I decided to become romantically involved. Starfleet security is aware, and I've had a security detail assigned to me since before the bombing, but I can't shake the thought that those incidents were directly related to my expose on Admiral Leyton. Sturnack... I mean... the Fleet Admiral... was also impacted by decisions from that administration at that time and I'm concerned about the general unrest from my past flowing over to impact him."

She stopped speaking almost abruptly, eyes flashing with frustration as the implications resurfaced in her head. "The reality is," she continued, "that we are both very visible people. And if the Fleet Admiral is going to be able to continue in his position and do it well, baggage from my past can't be a barrier. I don't... I'm not even sure what I'm asking of you exactly."

Thomas's brow furrowed as he considered what Jocelyn was telling him. The debacle that was Admiral Leyton had left a permanent stain on Starfleet Command. And while he was long gone, it was said that he still had pull within headquarters. The implication that there was a cabal of Leyton loyalists pulling strings was a frightening possibility to consider. Thomas was not one who could be easily intimidated though. He served the law, and he did so at the pleasure of the CinC. What angered him most was that Jocelyn was being persecuted because she stood up for the morals that Starfleet was founded on. "Leyton's ghost still haunts these halls, as unfortunate as that is. I can assure you though that Federation law offers whistleblower protection status to you for what you did. Any retaliation against you is a crime, and will be dealt with as such," he offered before he leaned forward and laid his clasped hands on his desk. "If you're asking if your past can in any way damage the Fleet Admiral, I'm not sure if I can answer that. The CinC is beholden to the Federation President, and as I'm sure your aware, she was not a fan of Admiral Leyton's," he said.

Jocelyn pressed her lips into a thin line for a moment before nodding. "That's a fair point," she commented and then, as if she couldn't quite keep herself from crossing her arms, she brought one across her chest, fingers wrapping her bicep and squeezing lightly while her other hand remained in her lap. "I suppose I am asking you to help me see anything coming that I might not see through my own channels. And... if it comes down to it... to help untangle Sturnack if he needs untangling." She caught the look he gave her and raised her hand quickly before he could protest. "Not anything illegal, sir. Just the usual things that fall within the purview of your job and the law. I don't want my... choices... to put him in the line of fire any more than he already is."

Thomas sat back in his chair and looked at her for a moment more before he nodded slowly. "Of course. I already run interference for him, but I'll be sure to keep my ears to the ground," he said before he leaned forward again and looked at her with an upraised eyebrow. "You can bet though that the Leyton loyalists already know about yours and his relationship and they are undoubtedly working on a way to spin it against him," he said matter of factly before continuing, "You won't be able to keep this quiet for much longer."

Meeting his gaze, Jocelyn sighed. One finger raised she pressed her glasses back up her nose even though they didn't really need adjusting. It was more a tic than a necessity. "We don't plan to," she admitted resignedly. "Neither of expects to keep this under wraps. We're just buying time for now until Admiral Andolini can arrange an interview with someone he recommended. He thinks getting ahead of the news will help."

Even though she knew that was the right move there was a touch of reticence in her tone as if she were uncertain despite the knowledge. "Honestly," she told the older man across the desk, "neither of us planned for this to happen. It... it just did... and..." She looked up, willing the JAG to understand her, "how often do any of us get a chance at ...?" She trailed off, not finishing the thought verbally though her mind offered up several potential endings... happiness... romance... love... It had barely been 2 days, she reminded herself. She didn't know if any of those things were going to be part of this. But still... she knew she'd be sorry if she didn't find out.

Thomas had nodded at the mention of the Public Relations chief, but he found himself smiling slightly as Jocelyn tried to express her feelings at her relationship. He remembered back when he and his wife had met. It had been entirely by accident as well, but he had known fairly soon that Charlotte and he would be married. Though she had been stubborn, refusing his first proposal because she had seen what kind of life a rancher's wife lead and she wasn't sure it was for her. Only after telling her he wanted to go off to school did she finally relent, though her condition was he graduate from university first.

"No need to apologize Ms. Blake. I know what your describing, why I knew Charlotte was the one the day I met her," he said glancing down at the framed family photograph he kept on his desk. He in his dress uniform, his wife, and their son. He looked back at her with an upraised eyebrow, "The thing is, most people won't understand those feelings. While I'm not going to tell you not to pursue them, just be cautious on who you share that with." His words weren't meant to chastise, rather offer some sage advice from someone who knew about all the legal entrapments that went along with being in a relationship with a superior.

Romanowski's comment gave her pause and reminded her of something Nathan Cowell had told her a few weeks before the assassination attempt sequestered them at the Fortress. He'd seen right through them both, but had been unwilling to say who he knew was right under her nose at the time. She wondered now, with the JAG's comment regarding his certainty about his wife, if he, too, knew something that still felt too new to assign such surety too. All she could say with certainty was that she wanted to try. That her experience with Sturnack had been unlike anything she could have guessed at.

"I appreciate that, sir," she finally said, offering the older man a small smile. "I have more experience navigating complicated political circumstances than I do romantic relationships. I appreciate the insight."

"Your quite welcome," he said returning her smile. He leaned back in his chair before looking down at the chronometer readout on his desk and noted the time. "In the meantime, I keep my ears open for any rumblings that may come across my desk. I also want you to come to me should you hear anything as well. Like I said to you both before, should any of Leyton's cronies lodge a formal complaint than an investigation is unavoidable," he said.

She nodded back her understanding, sensing they were reaching the end of the discussion. Setting both feet on the floor she braced her hands on her knees. "Of course, sir," she said. "And thank you for taking the extra moment with me. I should probably get myself back to my desk though. I may not be the main gossip in the news cycle yet, but that doesn't mean there isn't news that needs my attention."

"Of course," Thomas said as he pressed a few buttons on his desk which unsealed the room. He stood as Jocelyn did and gave her a reassuring smile. "Just know that my door is always open," he offered her.

The redheaded press secretary met the JAG's reassuring expression with a sort of practical determination. "I'll keep that in mind," she said, lips turning up into a smile, albeit a small one. With the next breath she turned and strode purposefully out of the man's office. There was, after all, still plenty of work she needed to do.

=/\= A Mission Post By =/\=

Rear Admiral Thomas Romanowski
Judge Advocate General

Captain Jocelyn Blake
Press Secretary]]>
Mon, 10 Jul 2023 19:29:01 +0000
Set Into Motion https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/88 https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/88
Mission - Episode 3: Conflicts of Interest
Location - Interrogation Suite 2
Timeline - Mission Day 2 at 1300

[Interrogation Suite 2]
[SFC Complex]
[MD 2: 1300 Hours]


Fury burned in his gut as he stood behind the observation window, Rear Admiral Akkar Zuul barely contained his desired to leave this secret room and barge into the interrogation room to pummel their captive, a human male who seemed calm and laid back.

It further tested his resolve to keep his civility as the captive held his head high like he had no care in the world and seemed to know he was being watched, as he had glanced over a few times. Though only once had the captive managed to guess Akkar place but he'd never actually know considering all things it was quite obvious to anyone inside with a large mirror taking up an entire wall.

2 human security guards stood in opposite corners of the room ready to jump into action on a moment's notice. One of them seemed tenser then the other, maybe the other was better at hiding their nerves, Akkar was glad the guards still treated the prisoner with utmost caution as he is still dangerous. They didn't have any weapons to help prevent the captive from gaining any advantages.

Darryl Sutherland -- handcuffed and chained to the table -- took a long drag from his cigarette. It was replicated, of course. The real tobacco he'd grown at the compound was far from San Francisco and the guards wouldn't be bothered into fetching any. But they did want to know what he knew and, for that, they were willing to replicate a pack for him. Holding the smoke in his lungs, Darryl enjoyed the sensation of the smoking if not its replicated-nicotine authenticity. He expelled the air in a cloud, enjoying the sight of the interrogator trying to blow the smoke away with his hands.

It'd been hours of this already. Question after question after question. At first, Darryl had been too damned angry to answer. It wasn't until his captors agreed to coffee and a smoke that he calmed down and squarely thought about whether or not he should be forthcoming. They already knew a lot, anyway. Like about the compound...with modern day facial recognition, you couldn't take a piss somewhere public without being captured by who knew how many cameras. And even though Darryl and his friends lived off the grid, using a transporter still meant leaving a trace somewhere. Starfleet had already tracked him back to where he'd come from simply by seeing his face and doing some simple checking.

He hadn't meant to be caught, of course. He'd fucked up royally there but Darryl was, at least, confident that his companions knew he'd been picked up by now. They would have scrambled two days ago and vacated the compound Starfleet had no doubt already raided. So why not crow a little about how close they'd come? Why not take credit where credit was due? Keeping his mouth shut would earn him little freedom -- not that much would come his way -- but at least if he confirmed some of what they already knew and gave them a little bit more, he might get sent to a cushy penal colony instead of some hard, secret prison Darryl knew they must have somewhere.

"Fine," Darryl finally said, the word distorted as it formed in a mouth open enough to expel another cloud of smoke. His eyes stared not at the large mirror or the interrogator but at the lit end of his cigarette. The paper was burning down as he rolled the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, the ash building up at the end. The line where the fire burned the paper was slowly approaching his hand but no matter: plenty of drags left before he'd have to put it out. "What, exactly, do you fuckers want to know?" he asked, taking another long drag and leveling his eyes with the Commander sitting in front of him.

Well that was a stupid question, Commander Ruka Maron thought as she eyed the scum in front of her. She smiled. "Hideout locations, names of all who are involved, oh and whoever is the leader of all this." Ruka stated calmly. "It will be remarkable if you remain unscathed should you provide false information."

Was torture authorized? Akkar wondered as he watched from behind the mirror wall. It would be Intelligence who'd be involved in that though Homeworld Security had their own interrogators. He wondered where the Director of Intelligence was, they should be here by now.

Tenai looked at his chronometer watch seeing he was late for the interrogation, though he couldn't help this interruption, as one of his analysts had wanted to discuss some ideas for new programs in tracking. He had just finished up and was rushing for the Interrogation Suite knowing he was hours late. He approached the observation area and quietly walked in. He saw Akkar there watching "Apologies something unexpected came up, but I am here has he said anything?"

Meanwhile, back in the interview room, Darryl sat back in his seat and considered the Commander, smoke curling in front of his face. "Remain unscathed? Lady, you ain't gotta torture me. They're long gone anyway, so I'll tell you what you want to know," he said, taking another pull from his cigarette. "Keep threatening me, though, and my willingness to tell you anything goes right out that there window," Darryl sneered, pointing at the window in question. "Do we have an understanding? Or am I going back to my cell without saying another god damn word?" There was steel in the man's eyes: he clearly meant what he was saying. The promise of force would only set back the exchange of information.

Ruka grabbed the cigarette out of the man's hand and took an inhale from it then gently blew it out at the capture. "What do you like about these things?" She asked curious as to why such a practice was long gone, though there were still some occasionally seen doing it. Ruka didn't get it.

She held onto the cigarette as she watched the end of it slowly burn. "Either way is fine with me while you are in Homeworld Security's custody. However Starfleet Intelligence may wish to learn more and I wanted to let you know that you may be in for more."

"Now, please do tell me all about your little group?" She asked as she offered back the cigarette.

Meanwhile, back behind the mirror wall Akkar turned to face Director Dexu. "That is the story of a Director's life Admiral, an endless stream of 'something came up'." He laughed as his own experience since becoming Director of Homeworld Security had been the same style of interruptions and the unexpected alongside the planned meetings and activities.

"He is about to tell us," Akkar added a moment later.

Darryl watched with interest as the woman took his cigarette from him and puffed on it. He was surprised she didn't cough, though thought perhaps she'd tried it before at some point. The man took another cigarette from the replicated pack, broke off the filtered end, and then put it to his lips. Inhaling as he used the lighter provided him, he smiled as a thick cloud of smoke curled around his face. "Them boys at Starfleet Intelligence can do whatever they want. It ain't gonna change anything I'm about to tell you."

With a quick cough into his hand, Darryl felt the sludge in his chest slightly loosen: the price he paid for a nasty habit. He'd cough it up later, choosing instead to deliver on his promise of information. Something about the way the interrogator was smoking with him made Darryl want to open up even more. "Blighton in Utah. Small town in the middle of nowhere but you'll find it on your maps sure as shit. In fact, if you can get me one, I'll mark exactly where our compound is. We had about thirty people operating out of there, including the Overseer. She was the one outfitting us with tech," he coughed into his hand again, then took another drag.

Tenai immediately took note of the information that had been given. This Overseer he had heard about but had no information regarding her. He now knew she was a female and she had others in the area helping her. Looking at Akkar. "It looks like something is coming of this."

In the Interrogation room Ruka frowned. "Why do you do this to yourself?" She indicated the cigarette in her hand. It really concerned her that it seemed the practice survived the centuries.

Though she smiled a moment later. "I shall get you a map, Blighton in Utah." Ruka repeated to make sure she recalled it afterwards. Who knows the Admiralty might send her to investigate the compound, so she stood and nodded. "You can tell me why you use these when I return." She said and wiggled her fingers that had his former cigarette between.

She exited the room and entered the one behind the mirror. "Admirals," she greeted.

"Commander, you need a map?" Akkar asked with a smile and offered her a large padd.

"I do sir, thank you." Ruka accepted the padd and turned to the Director of Starfleet Intelligence. "May I ask what you plan to do with him Admiral?"

Tenai had not been ready to answer that question. He was still trying to determine what to do as he listened and he knew he had to walk a fine line in his decisions, especially with this one." He shook his head. "Honestly, we need to figure some things out. Your people," his gaze included Admiral Zuul, "have done well in getting us this far. My recommendation would be to let Intelligence have him. We'll see if we can get anything different out of him. Meanwhile, we should probably send a joint team of Homeworld Sec and Intel to raid this compound. He may think it's empty," Dexu said, "but in my experience, overconfidence usually leads to folly. They may have left something helpful behind."

Akkar brought his hand up to stroke his chin and he realised he should shave soon. "Once we have the location," at this point Ruka had left to grab a padd that would have maps on it and would be returning soon, "of the compound I believe we probably won't get anymore out of him so sure Intelligence can have him." He eyed Darryl for a moment. "Though I suggest you move him as secretly, who knows if his fellows may be planning on freeing him."

He turned to face Tenai. "I'll have Commander Maron prepare and lead an assault team and have them meet up with yours." As if on queue Ruka entered the room with Darryl, offered him the padd. "We should have a runabout monitor from above as well to run some deep scans. What do you think Admiral?"

Dexu reviewed the PADD for several long moments and then nodded. "This works for me. I believe it's time we paid these good people a visit," the Admiral said, determination glinting in his eyes. "As for him," the Trill looked beyond the pane of one-way glass, "we're going to be spending some quality time with him on my side of things. But of course, we'll keep you in the loop on anything else we get from him," he said, turning to Admiral Zuul. "Much appreciation for your help, Admiral."

And with that, the plan was set and things went into motion...

=/\= A joint post by... =/\=

Rear Admiral Tenai Dexu (NPC'd by Brad)
Director, Starfleet Intelligence

and

Rear Admiral Akkar Zuul (NPC'd by Rune)
Director, Homeworld Security

]]>
Wed, 05 Apr 2023 22:25:13 +0000
Backpost: Someone to Listen https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/79 https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/79
Mission - Episode 3: Conflicts of Interest
Location - Starfleet Medical
Timeline - Mission Day 1 at 0000

[Starfleet Medical]
[A few days after the bombing of the Romulan Embassy]

Following her brief check in with Vice Admiral Cowell, Karyn immediately made her way to the heart of the chaos where people were being treated following the explosion. As nightmarishly wretched as the circumstances were, providing crisis support to the shocked and traumatized after a disaster was as familiar to Counselor Karyn Dallas as the Commodore pip was unfamiliar to Karyn Dallas, Director of Starfleet Counseling. Just minutes earlier, she had learned her predecessor had been killed in the blast, a fact that may have been kept from her from those who had assigned her here given the guilt she already felt because of her last mission.

All that mattered to her now, however, was tending to those in need, the current tragedy enough to suppress any self-indulgent and self-pitying thoughts of the still painful circumstances that led to her promotion. Under different circumstances, she might've felt much more intimidated meeting so many people of various ranks and positions, overwhelmed by how they all fit together in this giant machine known as Starfleet Command, but in light of what just happened, all of that couldn't seem any more inconsequential to her. Psychological and physical trauma cared little for rank and position, and in the wake of terror, the color of an Admiral's blood looked remarkably similar to that of the most junior aide.

Dallas understood in the coming days and weeks (or maybe minutes? Hours?) she would have to give up the duties and responsibilities of a frontline mental health professional so that she could attend to the big picture demands befitting her position, but for now, sadly, this was not a particularly unfamiliar path.

Karyn was still getting used to the resources at her disposal, but she was grateful at how quickly she was given access to the ever-changing list of the injured and deceased. She made a point of refreshing this particular PADD every five minutes to keep abreast of the updates, and sometimes she would be halfway to her destination, in a complex of buildings she was still becoming familiar, and she would have to abruptly change course because her intended charge had been moved.

Maneuvering in and out of the various corridors was dizzying, but suffused with purpose, Karyn wasn't daunted, not even when people openly appraised the woman in the grav-chair, checking to see if the unaccompanied woman was injured and in need of assistance.

Finally at her destination, Karyn stopped a passing nurse just leaving the patient's room with a gentle hand placed on the arm. The counselor could feel the adrenaline vibrating through the nurse's body. Dallas was sure if an invisible hand lifted the nurse from the floor, said nurse's feet would still continue to move in a half jog- half run. "Admiral Ul-tan?"

The young woman, clearly annoyed, was about to offer a sharp retort when she spotted Karyn's pip and nodded.

In response, Karyn grimaced, the tiny gold object surrounded by black affixed to her collar had intimidated her, perplexed her, and had now served her like a superpower she didn't quite know how to handle.

Offering a belated thanks as she moved past the nurse, Karyn entered the room, the slight hum of her grav chair barely audible in the buzzing complex.

Frances Ul-tan was, for all intents and purposes, trying to sleep. Trying being the operative word. She'd been lucky during the bombing and, though her injuries were not insignificant, she was not in a coma and she was not dead. There were moments, though, where she wondered if she'd rather be. Mostly sleeping meant the return of screaming. It had only been a few days and yet the events played over and over and over. They always started the same way.

First it was the scream of the explosion. It was an almost visceral sensation still. She hadn't heard it so much as she had felt it, pressure in her ears shifting hard making them pop as her body was propelled from its seat.

Then it was the ringing. Once her ears had given way to the pressure everything sounded like a high whine. She saw the chaos through bleary eyes, a trail of blood from a gash just above her hairline running down her face--her nose like a channel to direct it.

Last it was the slow return of sound. The ping and screech of hot metal. The flames where things had caught fire. The alarms. Those were so loud. But in the end it was always the screaming. Screams knew no language. No race. They were all equal. And every single one tore at her until she woke in a sweat, her own screams joining the fray.

Now, though, she hadn't quite fallen asleep and the hum of a grav chair was almost calming beneath the beep of machines.

"Can I help you?" she asked, voice giving away how little sleep she actually had over the last few days.

Inwardly, Karyn winced. She perhaps should have called ahead after all, the last thing she'd wanted was to interrupt anyone's ability to grasp whatever sleep they could. The only thing that would make her feel worse was if she were to retreat in embarrassment. Speaking gently, Karyn offered, "Please forgive me for disturbing you, Admiral. My name is Karyn Dallas. I'm from Fleet Counseling, and I'm reaching out to as many people as I can to offer support in light of this horrible tragedy." She saw no reason to present herself as a "Director" in this context, as that particular title mattered little. "I can come back later, of course, if you'd prefer."

With a sigh and a wince Frances pressed the button to raise the end of her bed so she was closer to a sitting a position. "No, no," she said tiredly. "Please, come in. I'm not having much luck at getting rest so I might just as well speak with you." She watched as the woman came around to better be in her line of sight. The grav chair's occupant was slight, a halo of brilliant red hair pulled back into a ponytail over eyes that were a bright intelligent blue. Her demeanor was kind, though, and Frances couldn't help relaxing slightly in her presence. "Commodore Dallas," she said as she spied the pip. "Which means we've lost our head of counseling in the blast and you are perhaps his replacement?" It was a guess, but she'd known the former head of counseling and knew he had been present at the event. Perhaps she would be wrong and he would simply be injured rather than deceased.

Her tone was somber but clear. "I'm afraid so. I was informed not too long ago. Did you know him?" It was not her preference to discuss work, but she surmised such powerful people might be uncomfortable talking about their emotions in the midst of a crisis, no matter how personal. After all, they were the ones who juggled 1,000,000 issues every day and who solved complex problems. Under the circumstances, she figured it was best to ease into things and let the Admiral take the lead on anything more personal.

A nod was the only confirmation Karyn had for a long moment. Ul-tan's eyes pinched, slightly at the corners, the only evidence of the grief she felt. After another long moment of silence she answered the question more fully. "I did," she said simply. "We were in the same year at the Academy. Good man. Kind and always had an open door. He was counseling his friends long before he was ever given a position to do so." She sighed. "I hadn't spoken to him in recent years. Just didn't have the time I guess. Suppose, now, that I should have made the time."

"Hindsight is always 20/20," Dallas replied. "People will say they should have known better about a lot of things, but that's only because they are beyond those things now. If I were to put you exactly where you were before all of this happened, and gave you the same thoughts, feelings, and decisions you had then, with no clairvoyance, would you have made the same choices?"

Frances frowned, feeling a bit of a headache come on behind her eyes. She raised one hand to rub at the bridge of her nose. "Probably," she said, though there was hesitation in her voice. "Like hindsight, it's impossible to trace those things perfectly without the context of what I know now." She set her hand back on her lap, laying it on top of the light blanket pulled up to her waist. "What do most people say when you ask them that?"

"The same as you," Karyn offered with a small smile. "It's a start that none of you think you would be clairvoyant or omniscient." She paused for a moment, then added, "You've been hurt enough. Don't let your brain pile on."

The injured admiral was quiet for several long moments and, had her eyes not been open, one might have been excused thinking that she had perhaps fallen asleep. Finally, with a long exhale, she added. "My brain's doing plenty without adding guilt of what ifs to the mix."

"Need to talk about it?" It might've been a cliché response, but even still Karyn's question was sincere. The last thing she wanted to do was push a counseling session on someone if her physical pain or fatigue was unbearable.

A quick dart of the Admiral's eyes was the only indication that the question made her at all uncomfortable. She was sure the nurses on her floor had to be aware of the nightmares. She wasn't waking up quietly. But no one had asked her to speak about them and she hadn't asked to do so. Now, though, she wondered if it wouldn't hurt to at least admit their presence.

"I'm not sleeping well," she admitted. "Nightmares mostly. The events at the embassy play over and over and I wake up at the end drenched in sweat, heart racing." Her brain resurrected an echo of the screams for the occasion and she shuddered slightly at the memory. "Not sleeping can't be great for healing, but then, I'm still alive, so bad dreams hardly seems a small price to pay."

"There's that unforgiving brain again," Karyn replied softly. "To whom or to what do you think you owe payment?"

Frances shrugged and winced as she did so. "I could be dead. So I suppose whomever it is I owe my life to. The attackers for failing to kill me too? Whomever found me? Those who didn't make it? I don't know. All I know is I am here and many others are not."

"Yes, it's good to focus on what you know for sure, and only that for now," Karyn encouraged. "You are here and others are not. Give yourself time and space to feel whatever emotions that thought brings up for you, including relief you survived. Survivor's guilt is a normal reaction to what happened to you, but so is relief. If you are going to recover from this, if you're going to find meaning from it eventually once you've given yourself time to express all your feelings, that includes expressing those you may not feel are appropriate, but are true nonetheless."

A nod of the woman's head was the only acknowledgement she'd heard before a huge yawn overtook her. "I'm sorry counselor," she said once the reflex had subsided, "I'm really quite tired. Could we perhaps continue our conversation another time?"

If the counselor answered her, Frances couldn't have said. Her eyes were already drooping and before the Commodore could leave the room, Frances Ul-tan was asleep.]]>
Tue, 24 Jan 2023 03:42:56 +0000
Pencil Me In https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/92 https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/92
Mission - Episode 3: Conflicts of Interest
Location - Starfleet Headquarters, San Francisco & The Horseshoe Cafe
Timeline - Mission Day 6 at 1430

[CinC's Office]
[SFC Complex]
[MD 6: 1430 Hours]


It was with an odd mixture of excitement and trepidation that Jocelyn entered Marlena's office just before 2:30 in the afternoon. She met the the aide-de-camp's greeting smile with one of her own, but couldn't keep her eyes from darting to the door that led through to Sturnack's office. This felt precipitously close to the sort of thing that Whitford had advised they not do.

Yet, as they'd gotten back into the routine of the office, everything had been even busier than before and any time they might have had to see each other, to have a conversation even, had been limited at best. They'd so quickly slid back into routine that there were moments where Jocelyn wondered if she had misunderstood her Vulcan paramour's intentions barely a week prior when they'd agreed to give a relationship a try.

Adding to that Jocelyn hadn't been sure when or if Sturnack might want to spend time together outside of work and, in the rush of things, failed to ask him. Of course he hadn't asked her either which only added to her uncertainty about how to proceed. So she'd resolved to do something about it and that morning had sent a note to Marlena begging her friend's help.

"Does he know or is this going to be a surprise?" she asked Marlena as she turned back to her friend, some of the uncertainty she felt telegraphed on her face.

"Oh, he know's he's about to have a strategy meeting," Marlena smirked back, "he just doesn't know what the strategy planning is for." The woman rose from behind her desk and came around, extending her arms and pulling Jocelyn into a hug. They had that kind of relationship, even on the clock. But then again, she wasn't the one dating the CinC: she didn't need to maintain separation like the pair of them did. "You ready for me to let him know his meeting is here?"

In an almost perfect impression of Sturnack, Jocelyn cocked one eyebrow upward at Marlena's explanation before being enveloped in her friend's hug. At least she didn't think it was silly for Jocelyn to do this, even if Jocelyn herself felt off kilter in the moment. "Not gonna get any more ready if I wait," she said as the other woman pulled back. She squared her shoulders and then, as a shot of nervousness hit her, she snagged Marlena's hand.

"He's going to want to see me, Marlena. Right?" she asked, embarrassment coloring her cheeks at even asking the question.

"Of course he will," Marlena squeezed the hand affectionately, offering her friend an encouraging smile. "I get the feeling he just doesn't know how to do all this, you know? I've worked with him for a long time and never seen him so much as hint at interest in anyone. I mean, there was a guy once who liked his ears," she commented mischievously, "and Sturnack, I think, appreciated his 'efficient haircut,' but that's pretty much as far as it went," she chuckled. "Just...give him time and be direct with what you want and need. Don't keep him guessing, ok?"

Jocelyn's head bobbed a hesitant nod of ascent. "Direct. Ok. I can be direct," she said as she released Marlena's hand and moved to sit in one of the waiting area chairs. She snagged her bottom lip with her teeth, worrying it slightly, but nodded her confirmation that the aide-de-camp should go ahead.

Marlena nodded and moved back behind her desk, tapping her combadge as she went. "Glenn to Sturnack, your 1430 is here," she said, lowering into her seat. "Don't forget: this is a walk-and-talk meeting, so wear comfy shoes," the aide-de-camp chuckled over the comm line.

"Understood," came the cool response of the Vulcan Commander-in-Chief.

A few moments later, the frosted-glass double doors of the office swung open, admitting the Fleet Admiral into the anteroom. Sturnack acknowledged Marlena with a nod before his eyes swept across the reception area, landing on Jocelyn. "Captain Blake," he greeted with another slight bow of his head. "I did not realize my strategy meeting was with you. Am I walking you to the Press Room?" The man seemed absolutely confused for a moment but smoothed out the wrinkles in his demeanor, clasping his hands behind his back.

For a moment, as the doors opened, Jocelyn held her breath and, true to form a wiggle of nerves and excitement dueled in her stomach when his eyes finally landed on her. "Or you could walk me to the Horseshoe?" she offered, the explanation coming off as more of a statement than question. "Fewer listening ears," she added before he could respond to her suggestion.

"I blocked you off for an hour," Marlena smirked again. "You kids have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do," she cautioned, not looking up from the work she'd returned to.

"I suppose that is sufficient time," the Vulcan replied with a nod. "I will need to procure my tum--"

"On it," Marlena piped up again, producing the CinC's coffee tumbler from somewhere under her desk. She held it up as Sturnack swept by, taking it from her hand. "This is why you love me," she said, looking up at the Vulcan with a smug look.

"Indeed," came his reply. Sturnack turned back to Jocelyn and, with a nod, waited for her to rise and then set off on their walk. "I must admit, Captain," he said, walking out of the office's reception area and into the hallway, "I am surprised to find a meeting with you on my agenda for today." While it was true that they often saw each other several times a day in briefings and other meetings, this particular meeting was just the two of them. No Whitford, no Andolini, just the Vulcan and his human paramour. Passing several sets of ears -- attached to hard-working officers in their cubicles -- Sturnack maintained an air or professionalism and distance.

Drawing in a slow breath Jocelyn kept her eyes forward, but let the hand closest to the CinC drop down beside her. Her other hand held her own coffee tumbler. "I would be lying if I said the strategy being discussed had any direct impact on our day to day work," she said choosing her words carefully while they were still within earshot of several others. "But there are some things it seemed pertinent for you and I to discuss privately and," here she glanced quickly up at him, a furrow of worry on her forehead, "I am trying to keep Admiral Whitford's advice in mind while also acknowledging my own..." They stepped out of the rows of desks to a more bustling space where her final word was covered somewhat by the noise. "...needs."

Weaving through the crowd Jocelyn allowed her hand to brush Sturnack's only briefly, the movement appearing to any casual observer to be an accident for how quickly it happened, though the bundle of nervousness and hope she felt flashed briefly across their link like a splash in a pan. Though nervousness and hope were the predominant feelings there were a myriad of others as well muddying the press secretary's emotional landscape. Everything from a distinct appreciation for his physical appearance to a preoccupation with her word choice bubbled up to the surface in that simple expression.

"Ah, I see," came the CinC's reply prior to the hand touch. As skin came in contact with skin, however, the flowing rush of emotions transmitted easily to the touch-telepathic Vulcan. Sturnack processed what he was feeling -- or rather, what Jocelyn was feeling -- as the emotions cascaded over and through him. She was worried about something. Something focused around their relationship, perhaps? The moment of contact was brief and only carried so much information. What came back from the Vulcan was a flare of worry with a tinge of dread, though Sturnack's face, of course, betrayed none of this.

Their feet kept them moving all the way to the turbolift. They slipped inside and Sturnack turned to Jocelyn, intending to speak more personally than in the hallways, but at the last second, Commander Jerys Reynhol entered as well. The man was a fixture around Starfleet Command, working as a liaison between Command and a number of other agencies outside the Starfleet structure. The Vulcan nodded to the man, who smiled a greeting but turned to face forward. Behind him, hopefully unawares to the Commander, Sturnack turned to Jocelyn and arched an eyebrow as if to ask if everything was alright.

Pressing her lips together, Jocelyn returned the arched eyebrow with a nose wrinkle and a small smile, wishing for all the world that Reynhol were literally anywhere else in the galaxy but in that turbolift. Still, they were standing behind him and so she slowly shifted until her pinky brushed and then hooked around Sturnack's own.

The dread she had gotten from Sturnack had curled like a stone in her belly and shot back through the link as an increased uneasiness and confusion. She made an effort, though, to focus on the things that had most driven her to seek him out--the feeling of missing him, of longing for his company, and for the way he made her feel, the safety she felt when he was nearby.

Sturnack, for his part, squeezed his pinky around Jocelyn's, the telepathic connection between them once again flaring to life. Only this time, they had more than a passing moment to hold the contact. As the lift lowered, the link fire-hosed the woman's emotions across it. The Vulcan took a calming breath, somewhat unprepared for the sheer strength of the feelings coming off his would-be lover.

With each connection point, it was becoming more and more clear that Sturnack would need to teach Jocelyn how to lower the gain on her emotional broadcasts. That particular notion came through the link like someone plugging their ears against an incredibly loud sound and then removing said fingers as the volume lowered to safe levels. In addition, there was Sturnack's own reassuring desires: a wanting of closeness, the hope for time spent together, and the satisfaction he drew from being in her presence.

Bare moments later, Jocelyn released his finger, switching her mug to the hand closest to him as the Turbolift doors slid open to reveal the vaulting main lobby of Starfleet Headquarters.

Many people were coming and going, sliding into and out of the various turbolifts banked into the walls. As Sturnack and Jocelyn followed in Reynhol's wake, the Vulcan was satisfied to see the Commander veer off in an alternate direction, leaving the pair alone and able to speak in their small bubble amidst the noise of the lobby. However, as the pair neared the front doors, they caught sight of the open grounds beyond; it became clear that they were not prepared for their walk: it was raining and neither carried an umbrella.

"Sir," came a voice from the Security checkpoint nearby. "Make that Sirs," he corrected himself, realizing Jocelyn was with the Vulcan Fleet Admiral. "I uh...I've only got one, but if you're going outside, you may want it?" The source of the voice was Bob, the much-beloved Security officer who ran the checkpoint and knew just about everyone who passed through it. He was holding out a singular umbrella in striated black and grey check patterns. He'd apparently ran over from his desk, handing off the line duty to another.

Jocelyn was the first of the two to react, a broad appreciative grin blooming on her face and making her eyes crinkle slightly at the corners. "Thank you Bob," she said, the genuine appreciation in her tone clear as a bell. Bob nodded his response before excusing himself to return to his post.

She accepted the umbrella, taking note of its size before looking up at Sturnack, almost apologetically. "We'll have to walk close," she said. The feeling of repelling, protection and also a shrinking back, that she had felt from him in the lift made her hesitate. "If we're careful then I can... keep my hands to myself," she said cheeks flaring hot with embarrassment. "So I'm not too much," she added hastily.

The Vulcan gave Bob an appreciative nod before the man ran off, then turned at Jocelyn's offer to tamp herself down. "Even shouting in a room," Sturnack enunciated a reply above the din, "I would still wish to be close to you." He pushed the doors open then, allowing Jocelyn to shuffle out in front of him as she deployed the umbrella.

Sturnack held the door open for the person streaming out behind him, then followed in the Press Secretary's wake. He met her under the umbrella: their own private island of protection from the falling rains. The large drops of water made a soothing plop-plop-plop-plop as they fell against the material of the umbrella.

Together they walked forward, turning east towards the Horseshoe and letting a few moments of silence fall between them. The walk was pleasant enough -- the rain making it more so as it ushered them under close cover together. Sturnack's right shoulder touched Jocelyn's left, though without skin-to-skin contact, there was no mental connection webbing between them. Instead, the Vulcan used his words to communicate.

"You do not have to schedule an appointment to take a walk together," Sturnack elucidated, stepping over a puddle in front of him. He gestured to the pool of water for Jocelyn's benefit.

Jocelyn's response was slow in coming, trying to find the best way to elucidate her actions while keeping the temptation to simply let all of the bottled up feelings and thoughts all come tumbling out in an incomprehensible jumble. "Admiral Whitford recommended against... stealing... time together at work," she said, referring back to something the man had said on their first day back once his intensely choleric response had simmered down to a furtive frustration from full blown anger. Deftly dodging another puddle she continued, "and we haven't had any time together since that first night back. It's... It seemed like the safest way and I couldn't go another day without... I don't know... without you. Talking to you and... just..." Frustration took over in the midst of her explanation, bringing her thought to a stammering halt. "I missed you," she finally said sheepishly.

"I have felt the absence of your presence as well," Sturnack commented dryly. Coming from a Vulcan, that was as good as it was bound to get -- at least, verbally. "And you and I are both wise to heed the Admiral's advice. However, we both do need to break away for lunch. Perhaps we could share the lunch period one or two times per week." Sturnack walked on, not waiting for a response before adding additional commentary. "Given that you did not wish me to stay for an additional night once we returned, logic dictated that you needed time and space to examine and process your feelings. Have I allowed you enough distance to do so?"

This was asked as the pair approached the intersection of 18th and Constitution. Sturnack stiffened as his thoughts turned towards the assassination attempt that, thwarted as it was, still claimed the life of one of the Vulcan's security detail. Thinking to look back, the CinC was satisfied to see two security officers tailing them, though keeping a respectful distance. They, too, carried umbrellas to shield themselves -- and most importantly, their necessary eyes -- from the rain.

Jocelyn, too, recognized the intersection and with that recognition came a deep rooted desire to run, or maybe to hide. She felt painfully exposed. For a long moment the feelings of anxiety rolled through her and she tamped them back slowly, trying to let the feelings move through her rather than crash over her. When she felt as though she had control of her voice again she darted a glance over at the Vulcan. "You were giving me space?" she asked, confusion in her voice now. "I didn't not want you to join me. I thought you wanted space."

"What need have I of space?" the Vulcan replied, looking at Jocelyn with a quizzically upturned eyebrow. "Once one of my kind commits to a relationship, we are full-time partners in it," Sturnack remarked. "I was ready to spend that night and," he stressed, "each that followed with you. I would not have given that interview about our relationship," he intoned, "if I was not ready to share space with you." He fell quiet then, the sound of their footsteps sloshing in the rain a staccato to pace their walk by.

The confusion that registered on Jocelyn's face was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to the confusion she actually felt. It struck her that being romantically entangled with a Vulcan took more than simply learning social and cultural expectations... reading body language was going to be like learning a whole new language in itself. "I thought... I mean the first night... you said about maintaining separate lives in our own individual spaces and... and..." she stammered a moment, trying not to sold as ridiculous as she suddenly felt, "I'm sorry. I am trying to separate some of my humanness... the gut reactions... from... this." She gestured between them with her free hand as she said that.

They'd nearly reached the top of the hill by that point and the Horseshoe was visible through the rain a few blocks ahead. "I thought... since you weren't exactly comfortable with physical affection... that you might need more... space..." she finished lamely.

"It is possible to exist in the same space without being physically affectionate," the Vulcan offered. "I did not intend to intimate that all physical contact was out of bounds. It is just that..." Sturnack grew quiet then, the staccato of their feet splashing in the rain filling the silence, "beyond Pon Farr, I have not experienced relations with this kind of intimacy before. I admit," he said, arching an eyebrow, "the intensity of touching hands and...other parts of our bodies is a somewhat overwhelming experience for me. It is something I am working on. I had intended to simply define boundaries to a degree but it is, perhaps, possible that I influenced you in the wrong direction entirely." He referred, of course, to giving him such a wide berth even outside of work.

If Jocelyn had been confused before she found she was more than a little bit mortified now at how immensely wrong she had interpreted him. They were at the doors to the Horseshoe before a clear response had even formed in her mind and she was thankful for the extra moment they had to pause outside under the umbrella while a security officer stepped inside to make sure the small coffee shop was safe.

She could feel the blush that colored her cheeks as she spoke, but knew there was also no helping it. "In... other... relationships I have had affection is an unspoken indicator of comfort and openness." She was careful with her words as she said it. "In other... human... relationships. It's almost instinctual to equate withdrawal from affection as rejection." She chewed the inside of her cheek a moment, looking up at him as the rain sluicing off the umbrella in fat droplets created an illusion that they had their own personal private bubble. He met her gaze and she found, quickly, that she both didn't want to look away and couldn't stop her cheeks from flushing an even darker red. "I'm sorry for misunderstanding," she said softly. "And I'm sorry I'm so bad at this. I want you around. It's something I want so much that it scares me a little bit. And I don't want it to scare you too."

"I think, perhaps," Sturnack's eyebrow somehow arched even further, "we are both operating from certain biases and assumptions. Beliefs that, at this juncture, are serving only to confuse us. We should not berate ourselves for these missteps but, instead," he inclined his head, "learn from them." The security officer returned, giving the nod that the cafe was secure. With a nod, the Vulcan opened the door and waited for Jocelyn to lower and collapse the umbrella, then enter in front of him. The pair moved to the sizable line, though both knew the queue would go quick as per usual. "I will apologize for my own part in the confusion. Perhaps we should create lists of our individual needs and compare them?"

Cheeks still flushed, though the blush of was dying off now, Jocelyn shifted so they could stand next to each other, rather than one after the other in queue. She found herself wishing for the simple ease of holding his hand, something that would be so immensely normal in a human relationship, but in this one came with such significant consequences. Sturnack's suggestion drew forth an almost surprised giggle. "That," she said, eyes glinting with amusement as she looked up at him, "is one of the most Vulcan suggestions I think you've ever made." She was grinning now, the pink of her cheeks now down to levels that looked less like mortification and more like the result of normal exertion. She was tempted to let her hand fall between them knowing it might bump his own, but instead she pulled it up, crossing her chest and wrapping her fingers around the opposite bicep. "I'll do that if you'll agree to spending the night with me. Dinner, relaxing, talking, whatever we feel like is fine. And I can take the couch if we need to be extra careful on the affection front. Deal?"

At Jocelyn's mention of making a very "Vulcan" suggestion, Sturnack regarded the woman with a quizzical gaze. "Of course. It is only...logical," he said, inclining his head and waiting a beat. When Jocelyn did not respond, he almost imperceptibly waggled his eyebrows. Was Sturnack trying to be...funny? As for her suggestion of the deal, the Vulcan mulled that particular idea over for several long moments as they moved ahead in the line. "Spending the night together is an amenable idea. Perhaps you would like to see my apartment this time? It is...spartan," he explained, "compared to yours but, in the interest of knowing each other, perhaps? Sleeping apart will not be necessary," he added. Stepping up to the counter -- as it was now their turn to order -- the Vulcan deferred to Jocelyn to place her order first, though he did set his tumbler down on the counter in anticipation.

"Skedaddle!" The shooing came from the matron of the Horseshoe, Marie, who had spotted the two in line and waited until they'd arrive at its front to pounce. As if Marie shooing them out of the way of taking orders was something of a regular occurrence the young Bajoran man behind the counter nearly shrugged, giving the two a half grimace of a smile, and moved over to the shop's espresso machine, starting on the last order of drinks he had taken.

"I was starting to think you'd both left me," Marie said, a joyful sort of scolding in her tone.

Jocelyn hadn't had the opportunity to answer Sturnack's suggestion before Marie appeared and so she glanced between the two of them for a moment before shaking her head at the other woman. "We've been... busy..." she said carefully. "But it's not on any account of not wanting one of your lattes."

Marie's eyebrows rose and she gave Jocelyn and Sturnack each a knowing look in turn. "Busy, eh?" she said, eyes sparkling mischief. "I watch the news..." She let that trail off meaningfully.

Jocelyn's cheeks, which had very nearly returned to normal, flared deep red again. "I see," she said with knowing look of her own. "Then you'll know from that interview that we'd like to be discreet if we could."

If it was possible Marie's grin widened. "Of course. And I'll happily turn away any soul you tell me is a nuisance to you two. I can't imagine you've got many places you can go in public without the danger of a palm camera these days."

"And as you can imagine I've made sure that they wouldn't work in here anyway," Jocelyn commented, alluding to a practical step she'd taken prior to this visit. Making places safe to talk was something of a necessity for a Press Secretary so she'd taken the step to make sure she and Sturnack could do so in peace while they were there.

Marie nodded, appreciation rather than annoyance in her expression. "Your usual then?" She asked.

Jocelyn nodded and then glanced back at Sturnack so he could confirm or order something else if he chose.

"The usual will be sufficient," Sturnack bowed his head respectfully to Marie. "Your...discretion and kindness is appreciated," he offered to the woman. Once the woman had taken both of their tumblers with a promise to fill them in short order, the Vulcan offered his arm to Jocelyn and led her towards the arrangement of tables. They had multiple spots they enjoyed but, today, their old standby in front of the window was occupied. Instead, Sturnack pulled out a chair for Jocelyn at their second favorite table and then lowered himself into a chair of his own. While the cafe had been proofed against listening and other recording devices, that didn't stop curious onlookers from glancing their way. "It is...curious how people pay attention to matters that do not concern them," he noted, looking around himself. The security guards had taken up station at multiple points around the cafe, ensuring the CinC and his paramour were in no danger.

The curious looks they garnered confirmed, for Jocelyn at least, that much like Marie several other folks present in the cafe had also seen the news and were aware of the pair's relationship status. If they hadn't seen it already those who had were undoubtedly filling them in. She sighed and turned her attention to Sturnack, taking a moment to really look at him before she spoke. For a Vulcan, Sturnack kept his hair in something that could be very nearly considered a stylish cut. The front of it spiked upward into a mass that was simultaneously unruly and very clearly carefully manicured. His beard was neatly trimmed as well and framed his mouth... She pulled her eyes back up.

"People... humans at least, and I imagine any number of other races, enjoy a good love story. If it succeeds then it gives them hope. If it fails then they have something to talk about. Something that gives them a distraction, perhaps, from things that they are experiencing." Her eyes drifted slightly again and she sighed before shaking her head. "Have I mentioned that you're quite handsome in uniform?" she asked, the question one part warm affection and the other almost painfully shy.

Sturnack noticed the way Jocelyn regarded him; her look was thoughtful, as if the gears in her brain were slowly turning and churning through her thoughts. He wondered what was going through her mind -- cognizant that he could take her hand to feel what she felt -- but the Vulcan chose to let Jocelyn express whatever she was thinking herself. And, as it turned out, she didn't keep him waiting long. As Jocelyn explained peoples' susceptibility to a good love story, Sturnack simply nodded, even if he disagreed with dithering in other people's business. "I suppose that makes some amount of sense," he conceded, thinking it through. But then Jocelyn was complimenting him and it brought the Vulcan up short. He thought carefully on how to respond and then said, "Thank you, Jocelyn. I am gratified that you enjoy the sight. You enhance the aesthetic of your uniform as well," he nodded.

Full lips pressed against each other as Jocelyn tried to hold in the giggle of mirth that threatened to escape her. She knew, intellectually, that he was complimenting her, but his choice of words was so far from what she would have expected to be almost comical in their delivery no matter how earnestly they were meant. "That's the first time someone has said that to you, isn't it?" she asked, curious.

Sturnack was opening his mouth to answer just as Marie swung by their table with their carafes in hand. Normally they would be prompted to come pick up the tumblers from from the bar, but it seemed Marie was firmly determined not to require any more interaction with others than necessary. "Thank you Marie," Jocelyn said, graciously accepting the tumbler and bringing it to her lips before giving an animatedly appreciative sigh.

"Thank you," Sturnack echoed Jocelyn, dipping his head to Marie in appreciation of his own. As the woman waved and moved off, the Vulcan looked back at his companion. "Ovrora used to say I was handsome," he said, his thoughts casting far back through the years. She hadn't meant it enough to do anything about his supposed handsomeness but the Andorian had stated it all the same, usually in combination with some affirmation that he would, indeed, find love some day. He reached forward then, letting the tips of his fingers brush against Jocelyn's: there was a wash of lament there, hiding behind his Vulcan walls. But also there was a blooming trace of delight at Jocelyn referring to him as such.

At the revelation of feelings shared Jocelyn found herself drawing in a quick breath. She shifted her hand so that the tips of her own fingers met his and, softly, she ran them down to his palm and then back to their ends. Her own sadness at his memory came across their link, an echo of the lament he had felt. There was also an intense desire to be quiet--as if she were tiptoeing. Whether she was successful or not was another matter, but the awareness of how loud her emotions were acted like a restraint as if she were trying to physically reign in the excess. There was pleasure too, at the compliment he'd paid her but also at the simplicity of touch. It was such a small thing and yet her whole self relaxed into it and that appreciation would have come across loudest of all the things she felt.

"She was right," she said softly. "Seems like I'm lucky that she never did anything more than tell you." Her fingers slid softly down to his palm again and back and she was quiet, settling into the flow of his feelings and hers as they moved back and forth.

"So..." she said after a long moment of quiet. "I'd love to see your place tonight. I can run by my place and grab pajamas once work gets out."

The Vulcan gave Jocelyn's comment some thought, finally nodding. "It is difficult to say how the present would have turned out if the past had differed. But I am gratified by current events," he said, allowing his own fingers to more deeply insinuate themselves amongst hers. "You should be prepared," Sturnack replied, "to be quite underwhelmed by my home. I'm afraid the...cheerful lodgings of The Fortress were all Admiral McGarry's doing. My apartment is much less...cozy," he chose the word with care. Across the link, feelings flowed without abandon. There was a thread of embarrassment there, as if the Vulcan lamented how spartan his accommodations were when compared against Jocelyn's apartment. "I do, however, have quite a collection of wine to show you."

"It is yours and I will be there with you," she said, voice still soft as if the words were accents to what flowed between them. "We will make our own cozy." She didn't know what that would be exactly, but the relief she felt now that they were talking like, acting like, a couple again washed through. Relief and reassurance, warmth and still growing affection. "So we have a date?"

"I believe we do," Sturnack nodded deeply, some of his own satisfaction dispersing across the connection they shared. "But first, there is much to do before the end of the day. Now that we have our drinks, we should return to the office, yes?" He rose then, allowing his hand to become disintwined from Jocelyn's. Peering through the window nearby, the Vulcan noted that it had stopped raining. Gesturing ahead of him, Sturnack allowed his paramour to lead the way, the various Security officers falling into formation around them as they exited the coffee shop and set course for the SFC Complex.

=/\= A joint-post by... =/\=

Fleet Admiral Sturnack
Commander-in-Chief
Starfleet Command

and

Captain Jocelyn Blake
Press Secretary
Starfleet Command]]>
Sat, 29 Oct 2022 00:35:38 +0000
Coming Home https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/84 https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/84
Mission - Episode 3: Conflicts of Interest
Location - Jocelyn's Apartment
Timeline - Mission Day 1 at 2100

[Jocelyn Blake's Apartment]
[Cow Hollow, San Francisco]
[MD 1, ~2100 Hours]


The door to Jocelyn's apartment had long been repaired. It was still the old fashioned sort, with a knob and a lock, but in its repair Starfleet security had added a panel that required biometrics to open the lock. Even then an image of the blood red paint scrawled across the door came to mind when she approached.

It was a surreal sort of thing. She had been crashing on Jordan's couch for a couple weeks, only visiting her apartment to shower and dress, maybe to eat, but mostly she had all but been living with her friend. And then the assassination attempt and she found herself living with Sturnack. It had been so long since she had slept in a place alone that the mere thought made her insides wiggle uncomfortably.

Even as she thought it, though, the reassuring presence of Sturnack loomed at her back. He'd agreed to spend the night with her and she wondered if she ought to explain herself. So little of their relationship had actually been discussed. She wondered if he wished to be alone. If he already regretted the messy emotions of his new paramour.

Her hand, which had been reaching for the biometric lock dropped just short and she turned to face him. "Before we go in," she said softly. "I'm sorry for not asking if you wanted to stay for dinner tonight." She'd felt his annoyance through their linked hands at the time and it had flitted at the back of her mind ever since. "I was eager to make sure Admiral Andolini and his family were comfortable, but it's also not fair of me to assume that you are ok with such things. I'll try to ask about things in the future."

"I appreciate the consideration," Sturnack said, grasping his hands behind his back. "I was not mentally prepared for small talk and co-mingling with a...cacophony of people and animals," the Vulcan named them such. "However, there is something you should keep in mind about our bond, Jocelyn. Having an emotion that you can sense does not equate to me acting on said emotion. You are feeling all that occurs before my mental filters compartmentalize and repress my emotions. In essence," he raised an eyebrow, "you are getting an unfiltered glimpse into my psyche. While what you sense should guide conversations you begin with me -- like this one," he nodded, "you mustn't assume that a sensed emotion is immutable fact regarding my mindset. Does that make sense?"

She eyed him, chewing the inside of her cheek as he spoke and nodding her understanding at his question. "I think so," she said. Her voice held a touch of uncertainty to it, though. "It may take... some practice... on my part, but I'll get it eventually."

Blue green eyes held brown for a long moment before she turned, thumbed the lock long enough to confirm her presence, and the pulled the door, twisting the knob to release the latch.

She surveyed her apartment with fresh eyes. How long had it been since she'd brought a man home with her? Outside of Jordan, whose friendship was the closest she had to an actual brother, it had been... a while. The entry let a person in to her living area which was dominated by a couch, an overly stuffed chair and a view screen on the wall. Shelves displayed awards, books, and a few trinkets that mattered to her, among them her old coffee tumbler from her time at R&D and next to it her tumbler from her assignment to the Academy.

It was a largely tidy place considering she'd barely been present for some time. "Make yourself at home," she said as Sturnack stepped into the room. "Bathroom is back that way." She pointed to a hall that held two doors, the bathroom and her bedroom. "Kitchen is through there." She pointed again before extending her arms out to either side. "And this is the living room."

Sturnack surveyed the apartment with interest. It was mostly well kept but, like Jocelyn herself, there were signs of tidiness fraying at the edges in places. Living spaces were, after all, a reflection of their owner and the Vulcan found himself not at all surprised by the state of Jocelyn's place. "It is...cozy," Sturnack commented, eyes falling on a soft throw draped over the backrest of the stuffed chair. "I regret that circumstances have kept you so long from being comfortable here." Was that a tone of sorrow in his voice? Normally such emotion would be swept aside but there was something to the way he'd admitted lament.

Jocelyn was unsure how to parse both the Vulcan's words and his tone. Did he mean since the vandalism? The time at the Fortress? Perhaps it didn't matter. She had been a few feet from him when he spoke, but now she turned back. Her hesitation was brief, though it was unmistakably there--they simply hadn't had enough time alone with each other yet for her to be sure of how to act. So, for good or ill, she went with her gut approaching him slowly and wrapping her arms around his neck before resting her head in the crook of his shoulder. "Nothing to regret," she said quietly. "You wouldn't be here if it weren't for those circumstances."

"Perhaps," Sturnack admitted, gently moving to exit the embrace without comment. He seemed somehow uncomfortable with the touching, walking to put a few feet of distance between them again. "I find myself burdened by worry, Jocelyn. A lot will change tomorrow. Many things will become harder for us as the details of our coupling are outed. These difficulties do not change my mind on the course we have set. But it would dishonest to say that my mind is not very much occupied at this time. As I'm sure yours is, too," he said dispassionately.

She didn't miss the shift away. It was gentle and kind, but distance was distance all the same. As she spoke she wrapped one arm across her chest, gripping her bicep and rubbing lightly. She knew it would be different. She knew and she willed herself to patience, tucking questions of how they should interact to the side in favor of those looming questions he mentioned. "I'm aware of what we are about to encounter," she said simply. "I agreed to this course with open eyes as well and I, maybe more than most, know how much stands be lost if the winds of public opinion shift against us."

Although it was tempting to drop her eyes from him, she didn't. Instead she stood there, hand cuffing her bicep as realization began to creep in. She had missed home and freedom, but now home and freedom felt like they held dangers at every corner. Now... now she missed the Fortress. "You'll find it silly," she said softly, "but I miss it... the Fortress I mean. I wish there had been more time for us to figure ourselves out... alone... before we had to let everyone else in."

"I do not find that silly at all," the Vulcan turned back to face Jocelyn. In a calculated move, he took a few steps in her direction and held his fore- and middle-finger up for her to touch with her own. Such would allow her to sense the same desires behind his own mental barriers. "At the Fortress, it was only us. We had the freedom to interact without the wide world playing much of a factor. And now it is as if the shuttle has left the shuttle bay with us barely holding onto the hull versus being inside. Much is happening quickly. Too quickly," he admitted. "I admit that I am extremely out of my depth. Both as a paramour and as a Commander-in-Chief."

Jocelyn's eyes flitted from Sturnack's own gaze to his outstretched fingers and back to his gaze. Hesitation again, but this time less. She wanted the clarity that touching him brought. Her hand dropped from her bicep and the opposite hand formed into a mirror of Sturnack's. She closed the remaining distance and softly ran the back of her fingers down the backs of his before bringing them around so that their tips touched.

The reconnection of the mate bond was instantaneous and as her awareness of his underlying emotions registered she felt herself relax. True to his words worry twisted beneath his surface, but also affection and determination, the desire for comfort and a small amount of self-doubt. His emotions played across their link like a muted rainbow, held in check by his Vulcan training, but visible to her. Her own emotions, she was sure, were much louder and messier. They played out in her eyes and her body language even as they flowed between the two of them. Fear. Longing. Sadness. Affection. Desire. All present and on display in a way that still, only a day later, amazed her.

"It has been a long time since I have had a serious relationship as well," she said softly. "That part at least, is only for us. At least we are out of our depth there together."

Sturnack felt the rushing of emotion from Jocelyn through the bond. To one trained in emotional suppression, her feelings were like someone suddenly shouting in a quiet room. The Vulcan took a subtle breath and applied his own brand of calm to the link, hoping it would flow through and affect his paramour. True it had only been a day but, to Sturnack at least, the bond formed was something that would forever change their lives. It was important that they treat it well: protect it from the outside world in as much as was possible.

"Then we can both learn to navigate," the Vulcan said, "together. Where shall I sleep tonight?" Sturnack asked, arching an eyebrow. He did not wish to presume anything and thus gave Jocelyn the option to settle him on the couch instead of her bed, should she wish. Clasping his hands behind his back, he awaited the woman's response with a placid expression. Before the link faded, however, Jocelyn would likely have felt some degree of nervousness as to her answer.

As was true every time the link was disconnected, Jocelyn felt a sort of loss, as if a part of her disappeared with that connection. Somewhere in the back of her brain it registered that she'd like to understand that better, but it was a minor thought in the face of everything else and was quickly quieted. "With me," she said without hesitation. "Unless... unless you'd rather not." Her cheeks flushed slightly. "I mean... I'd like you to stay with me. After last night... I think it would feel odd... not to... if you are here with me. I mean..." She was getting flustered and she could feel it. It was one thing to take Sturnack to bed in the middle of Pon Farr and another entirely when he was his cool rational self. She was suddenly struck by how immensely small her understanding of Vulcans was.

"I thought perhaps you might choose such," Sturnack nodded slowly. "I am amenable to sleeping with you, Jocelyn. Though outside of the Pon Farr, you should know that sexual intercourse and loving embraces are somewhat...different," he stressed indifferently. "That is not to say that things will not be sexual beyond Pon Farr: Vulcans do engage in such activities from time to time. But I want to set the expectation that such times are not the norm as they might be with other couples. I do not wish to offend you by that," he seemed almost uncomfortable himself, "but merely establish things you should know."

If she was flushed before she was outright blushing now. "Ok," she said slowly. "I'm guessing you're familiar with what is more the norm for humans, but... if... not... I can explain. I..." She was stumbling over her own words. She wasn't offended by the revelation. If anything it gave her some clarity around his reaction to her hug. But still... it felt like fumbling in the dark toward some kind of middle ground. Or maybe just fumbling in the dark in his direction. She stared at him for a second, as her speech stumbled to a halt and then with an exhale that was half sigh and half the release of a deep breath she flopped onto her sofa and ran her hands into her hair.

"I don't want to push you," she finally said. "And you don't... you don't have to make concessions just because I want something. I mean... I want you to sleep with me tonight, but..." she trailed off, tilting her head to the side to take him in. "I only want any of those things if you also do. It's... important... to me that these things be mutual."

"I understand," the Vulcan said, nodding his head. "I promise to only partake in the things I am comfortable doing. And tonight, that includes sharing a bed with you once again. However," he lifted his chin, "we still maintain separate lives and live in our own individual spaces. I do not expect that we will be together every moment we are not working. But perhaps," Sturnack conceded, "a couple of nights each week, we can enjoy time together. It is important to me not to rush this by immediately intertwining the whole totality of our lives. Does that make sense?"

Nodding her understanding, Jocelyn let her hands drop to her lap. "Of course," she said. "I don't want to rush this either. It's just... very different from any other relationship I have been in. I am sure we'll find a rhythm that works for us both." She sat quietly pensive for a moment and then, like a receding storm cloud her expression cleared. "For now, though, I am going to put on pajamas and drink a glass of wine and you are more than welcome to join me." She gave him a small smile then, shifted forward before pushing herself to her feet.

"I am afraid," Sturnack replied, "that I left my...pajamas," he referred to his gray sweat pants and matching sweater, "back at The Fortress. I did not anticipate sleeping away from my apartment tonight." He blinked then, attempting to think of an alternate plan. He wanted to please Jocelyn but, at the same time, was too modest to suggest hanging around in his underwear. "Perhaps I could replicate something suitable, Jocelyn? And I believe a glass of wine would be welcome after the dinner we've just experienced." Did he mean that Andolini and his family were a bit much to handle? Such a comment could only mean as much.

Eyes traveling her new beau from head to foot the redhead nodded, though an appreciative smile lit her features. "Through here," she said indicating the kitchen. She led the way and, after directing Sturnack to the replicator moved to one of the cabinets and pulled down a bottle of deep red wine and two full belled glasses. She poured an ample portion for each of them and by the time she turned to return to the living room Sturnack had already disappeared with his replicated pajamas.

She made a guess that he'd gone to the bathroom to change, but just in case she knocked on her own bedroom door before slipping inside to change herself.

The knock went unanswered. Indeed, Sturnack had made his way to Jocelyn's bathroom and was in the middle of changing, the door left open. Out of the corner of his eye, the Vulcan spied the woman enter the bedroom and move towards her closet. As a matter of decorum, he moved to activate the doors' controls but then stopped, wondering why -- if they'd been so intimate -- he was bothering with modesty. It was illogical. They were on a collision course with intimacy; nudity was hardly an affront to Vulcan modesty at this point. So instead, he left the doors open and allowed Jocelyn to see him as much as she wished while he changed.

She was halfway through the room before she realized that Sturnack was standing in her bathroom only partially clad. Had she missed his answer to her knock? She froze, warring between uncertainty and action. Images from the night prior dashed through her head and her cheeks flared, two splotches of brilliant red at the peak of her cheek bones. Earlier it had seemed as if he was warning her not to expect an amorous reception most times and she was annoyed with herself for slipping immediately into that thought pattern.

She cleared her throat and turned, dragging her gaze away. "I'm sorry," she said eager not to come on too strong. "I didn't hear your reply so I just assumed."

"There is no reason to apologize," Sturnack replied from the other room. "We have certainly seen...more," he stressed passively, "of each other in recent moments. Seeing it again should hardly cause affront, I would think," the Vulcan said, passing his arms into those of the shirt he'd been given. Pulling the garment down around his mid-section, he then turned attention to his lower half. Pulling up a pair of sweat shorts, he then turned to see Jocelyn in the bedroom across the way. "Does this suffice?" he asked, gesturing at what he was wearing.

Jocelyn, for her part, had mostly frozen in place. Granted his permission, she allowed herself to look and to appreciate. And then she reminded herself of what he had told her earlier, when she had tried to hug him, and at his question she expelled a breath and nodded. "If it's comfortable then it's perfect," she said and then willed herself to turn to and finish crossing the room, pulling a pair of loose shorts and an oversized t-shirt from her dresser. She didn't typically wear the shorts to sleep, but it seemed right to wear them for now at least, though the t-shirt practically obscured them. Not looking in his direction she quickly moved to strip out of her attire as a million questions swam through her head all at once.

Sturnack, meanwhile, pragmatically left the bathroom as Jocelyn was in mid-change, not slowing to look or comment. Instead, he moved with singular purpose back to the main room of the dwelling and took a seat on the couch. At first, his posture was rigid as Sturnack sat there waiting for Jocelyn to come out. But as the moments passed, the Vulcan willed himself to become more comfortable. After all, if Jocelyn could find comfort in his dwelling, he should be able to do the same in hers. "How long have you lived here?" he asked, making conversation as his eyes swept over her belongings, studying them.

"About 7 years," she said, the comment rolling off her tongue somewhat casually. "I moved after the incident with Admiral Leyton," she explained as she came around the back of the couch and stood there awkwardly for a moment. He wasn't particularly comfortable with touch and yet it felt almost odd to be sitting on a couch next to him and not... somehow... being couple-like. She opted to sit on the opposite end of the couch, legs tucked under her in a position he would undoubtedly find familiar as she turned and regarded him. "I got a lot of death threats then, too," she commented. "And my old place didn't feel safe anymore."

With a flip of her wrist she gestured toward the wine on the table, reaching for her glass and bringing it to her lips to sip slowly. "How long have you lived at your place? Here in San Fran, I mean."

"Fleet Admiral McGarry had a saying," the Vulcan began. "If they're trying to hurt you, then you're doing a good job." Sturnack let the sentiment hang in the air before saying, "I am dismayed to hear about having to move and the harassment you have received, especially at the hands of other Starfleet officers. And more problematic now is that such behaviors continue. Though, hopefully," he reached out to gently brush the tips of her fingers with his, the link flaring to life, "that will abate as time goes by. As upsides go, my presence here provides increased security, at the very least."

In answer to her question, Sturnack said, "I've lived in my residence for over 10 years at this point. My home is spartan compared to yours," his eyes tracing Jocelyn's various belongings. "However, it is very -- as they say -- Vulcan-esque," he said.

The spark of their link had caught her off guard, but she welcomed it all the same, a small smile settling on her lips at the familiarity. It was a small simple thing, but an acknowledgement of their relationship and even if he hadn't intended it as a deliberate act, she appreciated it all the same.

"Much like your office, I imagine," she said with a kind look as her eyes rose from where his fingers lingered on hers. "And yes, I prefer not being alone," she admitted. "It's... been easier... when I know there's someone else around. I was sleeping on Jordan's... Lieutenant Hoover's... couch for a while before we had to retreat to the Fortress." The complicated emotions she felt on that front were unmissable, she was sure, through the emotional link, but they were met with his calm certitude in the statement that his presence there at that moment would help keep her safe.

Both were quiet for a long moment, sipping wine and lost in their own thoughts before Jocelyn spoke up again with a small laugh. "You know," she said with a bit of mirth to her tone, "if you were human I'd have to say we'd started this all sorts of backwards. I feel like I should... I don't know... ask you what your favorite color is or something." Her expression softened then. "I'm looking forward to getting to know you better. The you that you are when you're not being the Commander in Chief."

"Understandable," Sturnack nodded. "I feel we have much ground to cover. We do seem to have...skipped," he dipped his head slightly, "several of the most common courting steps where human relationships are concerned. However, we have no reasons to rush these things," the Vulcan noted. "That said, my favorite color is blue. It reminds me of water, which is typically calming. And for you?" he asked, arching his right eyebrow. "What is the most pleasing color to your eyes?"

She liked the way he asked as much as his humoring of her question. Though you couldn't have called out emotion in his tone expressly, there was a particular cadence tied to the arched eyebrow that seemed to shift the meaning of his monotone slightly. Or perhaps she was just thinking too deeply about it. Either way she liked it. "I don't know it's name," she explained, somewhat sheepishly, "but it's the sort of pink orange color of sunset. It's a stunningly gorgeous tone and it makes everything it touches look warm and soft."

"Warm and soft," Sturnack repeated. "The same could be said for your quarters," he said, once again looking around. Whereas The Fortress had been inviting in its own, rustic way, Jocelyn's apartment was inviting in another. Soft surroundings sparred with the need for every day utility, creating something pleasant but not overly decadent. "I am sure that, if Marlena were presently here, she would say something like 'You've got great taste, woman,'" he emphasized the word, approximating how his aide-de-camp would likely say it. It sounded obscenely out of character for the Vulcan and was, in no way, said with a laugh or any kind of smile. And yet, through the link, an undercurrent of humor sparked through.

Jocelyn had been halfway through taking a sip of her wine when Sturnack gave his best impression of Marlena. For a moment she had to hold her breath, eyes dancing mirthfully before she swallowed hard to make sure she didn't spit the whole mouthful on him. When she did, though, the giggles that followed were all but uncontrollable. Their fingers had been touching, a sort of soft tracing back and forth, up to that point, but now she shifted, taking his hand in hers, unable to help herself. She needed something more to hold onto as she doubled over with laughter.

As she took the Vulcan's hand in total, the link flared in strength as Jocelyn's roiling mirth flooded through the connection. Sturnack was, himself, like a small boat on the ocean of Jocelyn's emotions. What had been small waves that lapped at and gently nudged the boat suddenly became multiple stories tall, approaching the tiny little vessel from all sides. As the water crested and crashed through the link, something quite curious happened. Sturnack -- ever the expected when it came to Vulcan behavior -- began to laugh. It was almost musical, the way the laughs peeled out of him. And it was with some amount of concern that Sturnack brought his hand -- the one linking them -- away from Jocelyn's and to his own mouth.

"As I said," he arched an eyebrow after collecting himself. "The link goes both ways. I was not prepared for how...funny," Sturnack chose the word with care, "my impression was. Forgive the outburst: I will need to do better in steeling myself against the strength of your emotions in the future."

Eyes wide Jocelyn held very still as if unsure if it was safe to move. The sound of Sturnack's laughter had caught her off guard even as she felt like she was getting a glimpse at something she wasn't meant to see. The removal of his hand meant she couldn't tell if she had caused upset or harm or if it had, genuinely, been a surprise. "There's nothing to forgive," she said softly. "If anything it's me who should apologize."

"An apology is not necessary. It...comes with the touch telepath territory," the Vulcan explained, gathering himself further. Sturnack seemed to have regained his composure and settled into the couch more deeply, sipping from his wine. "Vulcans steel themselves against powerful emotions at all times. It's an automatic, intrinsic skill we have developed. But when linking with others, the power of added emotions can overwhelm. It is why mind melds are not as common as the human handshake," he explained. "We will learn to navigate this link in time, I am confident."

Something warm and deep took over where the worry left off, making Jocelyn feel more like a teenager looking at a crush than a woman in an adult relationship with a man. She swallowed, nodding her agreement and hoping he was right. She wanted to learn that navigation with him and she trusted him that it could be done--that they could do it. She held his eyes for several long quiet moments, thinking for all the world how badly she'd like to lean across the couch and kiss him. She didn't though, his explanation about affection from earlier holding her in place despite the overwhelming instinct to move closer. Instead she said, "You do a really impressive impression of Marlena. Does she know you can do that?"

"I have not yet demonstrated my mastery of her character, no," Sturnack noted, shaking his head slowly. "I am unsure if she would appreciate the mimicry, though given her preclusion to humor, perhaps it would go over well?" The last was arced up in a question; the Vulcan, it seemed, was unsure. "I must admit that I am feeling tired. Given the late...hour of last night," he discreetly referred to their fast-moving jump into physicality overnight, "and the early morning for presents," he dipped his head appreciatively, "it would seem sleep has become a logical need. Especially since we have so much to accomplish tomorrow," Sturnack said, not relishing the idea of meeting with Whitford.

Jocelyn tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth, suddenly painfully aware of how tired she was as well, but still reluctant for this moment, another first amidst a flurry of firsts, to end. "She would love it, but she would never let on. More likely she's dish it right back out at you." As if drawn from the depths of her belly a yawn overtook the comment. The desire to kiss him was still there, but dimmed slightly by the constant thread of reminder that he likely would not like it if she did. So instead she cleared the last swallow of wine from her glass, set it down on the low coffee table and rose, holding out her hand for him to take or not depending on his preference. "Come on," she said softly. "Let's get some sleep."

=/\= A mission post by =/\=

Fleet Admiral Sturnack
Commander in Chief, Starfleet

Captain Jocelyn Blake
Press Secretary

TAG]]>
Thu, 08 Sep 2022 21:53:18 +0000
The plan is afoot https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/90 https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/90
Mission - Episode 3: Conflicts of Interest
Location - Chicago IL, Billy Goat Tavern
Timeline - Mission Day 3 at 1330

In Chicago, there was a bar under the old Chicago Tribune building, called the Billy Goat tavern, it had been a Chicago legend for centuries. Including one story of a former owner cursing the Northside baseball team the Cubs, because they would not let him bring his pet goat into the games. The fact it took the Cubs decades to win their next world series, put some truth to that story.

Today, it was used as a meeting place, where Sal was putting into action, what was discussed last night in his basement. The secret to this interview is not to give away the farm, but enough to pique her curiosity.

Marinna Pol loved this bar which has centuries of tradition, instead of the glamorous fashion plate, that would be seen in holovids, today she was dressed more casual, to blend in to the bar’s clientele.

She headed over and the usual greetings were exchanged, “Salvatore, I thought once you went to Starfleet you’d forget all about us.”

“Marrina,” Sal laughed, “No chance of that, made my bones in a place like this.” He gestured as beverages were delivered, “It’s on Starfleet’s tab today. Food too.”

“Oh you spoil me.” They talked about family,caught up, Marrina finally looked at him, “Ok out with it, you don’t just bring me out for a beer and a cheeseburger just to catch up.”

“Who says.” Sal tried to play coy, “It’s been a while.”

The look said it all, he raised a hand, “Ok you got me. I’ve got a story and I thought of you. Right now, on background.”

“Deep?”

“Marianas trench deep.”

She leaned forward a bit, “You have my interest.”

Sal then began to explain the whole situation. Then sat back, “So, you interested?”

Her eyes narrowed, “I will not do a puff piece, there will be no softball question”

“Don't want one, if I wanted a softball interview I’d just pay the Ferengi News Service the going rate.” Sal paused, “I picked you because you’d be fair, you won’t softball them, but you won’t sharpen the knives.”

“You aren’t shitting me are you?”

“Me..” Sal looked mock offended, “Perish the thought.” Then he chuckled, “Plus, if I was spinning some bullshit you’d know.”

“They know that I can sense lies.”

“Yeah I told them.”

“Good, I’ll make that clear too. “ After a brief pause as she made some notes. “What’s the plan with this interview, beat the tabs.”

“A little.” Sal admitted, “plus I want to get their story out, they deserve a life.”

She nodded then asked one question, “Exclusive?”

“Yep, only person I’ve approached, and if you say yes we’ll no comment anyone, until you publish.”

That sealed the deal. “Ok let me clear it with my editor. Then I’ll stop by later, still making tiramisu?”

“Best in Chicago.”

“Good.”

]]>
Thu, 18 Aug 2022 00:04:28 +0000
Legalese https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/89 https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/89
Mission - Episode 3: Conflicts of Interest
Location - Sturnack's Office, Starfleet Headquarters, San Francisco
Timeline - Mission Day 2 at 1100

[SFC Complex]
[San Francisco]
[MD 2: 1100 Hours]


Thomas walked down the corridors towards the Commander-in-Chief's office. He was uncharacteristically miffed about the current situation. Having been left out of the loop following the attempt on Sturnack's life, he was not particularly happy with the Fleet Admiral. While Thomas thought very highly of the Vulcan, departing the city before Thomas could get statements from both him and Captain Blake would cast doubt on any future legal proceedings. It was vital to get affidavits as soon after the event to protect against any claims of tampering.

He rounded the corner and approached the Fleet Admiral's Aide seated at her desk. "Commander Glenn," he said as he approached, "Is he available now?"

Looking up from the PADD she'd been perusing, Marlena offered the admiral a smile as she stood. "Let me see if he's done with the Bolian ambassador. One moment," she nodded before slipping through the double doors into Sturnack's office. She was gone for almost a full minute before coming back out. "They're finishing up now, sir. You can go on in," Marlena said, gesturing to the frosted glass doors.

Thomas nodded and entered the office as the doors opened. He could here the two men speaking, and Thomas stood near the office entrance and waited for them to finish speaking. Thomas was not one to interrupt the Fleet Admiral, especially with an Ambassador in the room.

Inside the office, Sturnack stood near the Bolian ambassador, shaking the man's hand. "Thank you for coming today, Ambassador. I assure you that we are aware of the situation and working hard to remedy it. Now, if you will excuse me," the Vulcan's eyes drifted to Romanowski, "my next meeting is here. Marlena will see you out."

With a nod, the Bolian shook hands and then turned to leave. As he passed the JAG, he intoned, "He's all yours, friend. Have a good meeting!" And with that, the boisterous man walked through the doors and disappeared.

"Admiral," Sturnack addressed Romanowski, "how may I assist you today?"

Having nodded a greeting to the Bolian, Thomas waited for the doors to close before looking towards Sturnack. "Sir, forgive me for being forward, but do you mind explaining why I was kept out of the loop regarding your decision to abscond with Captain Blake before we could obtain formal statements from the two of you after the attempt on your lives?" he asked. Thomas's tone conveyed his annoyance and frustration at the issue, which was highly uncharacteristic of him. Thomas and Sturnack had a good working relationship, but situations like this made Thomas's ability to protect the CinC legally difficult. The integrity of the investigation hinged on obtaining prompt sworn affidavits from witnesses.

"We did not know who was responsible for the assassination attempt," Sturnack replied simply. "It could have been someone in Starfleet. It could have been someone in this very building, even," the Vulcan explained. "It was imperative that Captain Blake and myself be sheltered somewhere safe until the identity of the attacker could be ascertained. We were available through secured communications," he noted. "Meeting in person to gather our statements was not necessary." Standing, the Vulcan clasped his hands behind his back. "Thank you for coming today. Captain Blake and I wish to speak with you about...another matter," he intoned, nodding to the double doors of his office as they once again opened.

Jocelyn stepped into the room almost cautiously. After meeting with the DCinC and the fireworks that had been involved in that she was, admittedly, a tiny bit gun shy. Her eyes shot to Sturnack first, taking in his usual composed Vulcan demeanor, and then to Romanowski. She knew the JAG less well, but had found a bit of comradery with him as they had each experienced fall out from their actions as they related to shape shifters and the Changelings that had caused so Lieutenant Hoover in preparation for a briefing." She approached the desk, trying to take the measure of the two men and picking up on the lines of tension in the JAG's posture as she came up next to him, standing before the second chair that was positioned before the CinC's desk.

"It might not have been necessary in your opinion, but it makes my job in a court room a hell of a lot more difficult," Thomas said before turning to see Captain Blake enter the office. He could see her gauging the atmosphere of the room, so he turned back to the Vulcan. He could see now that the matter discussed before was dropped and there was another issue that was weighing on both Sturnack and Jocelyn. As the silence remained, Thomas looked between the two before responding, "Please tell me this is good news?"

"I suppose that will depend on who you ask," Jocelyn said as she drew alongside the JAG. "Admiral." His title was spoken in acknowledgement and accompanied by a tilt of her head. "Should we sit?"

"Captain Blake," Thomas said with a nod before taking the seat. He looked between both her and Sturnack and felt the sneaking feeling he was about to receive some less than savory news.

As she settled into the seat, one leg crossed over the other, she clasped her hands together and wrapped her knee between her palms. "Fleet Admiral Sturnack and I are seeing each other," she said matter-of-factly, holding the Romanowski's gaze as she said it. "Romantically. This is a rather new development. Less than 2 days old, truthfully." Her eyes flitted quickly to Sturnack before she continued. "I anticipate that the press is going to request your legal expertise on the matter."

Thomas looked between Blake and Sturnack as the weight of the news hit him. He did the quick calculation in his head before posing the question, "And this began while you two were away...together...after the attempt on your life?"

"That is correct. However," the Vulcan tipped his head up ever so slightly, "the seeds of our...copulation and resultant relationship have been planted over the last several months. It is not simply shared trauma that drew us together, though it was an inciting factor."

Jocelyn's eyes rounded at Sturnack's choice of words and a deep blush flushed her cheeks and down her neck. She made a mental note to warn him that generally speaking humans were more... private... with their explanations about copulation. Not that there weren't plenty of occasions when it could be discussed, but... She shook her head as if to clear the train of thought and then nodded to Thomas as he looked to her to confirm the CinC's statement. "We'd developed a friendship before the bombing and enjoyed each other's company, but there was no expression of romantic feelings until we found ourselves sequestered together in a small space."

Thomas rubbed the bridge of his nose feeling a headache starting. "While I offer my congratulations to the two of you, legally speaking there is no prohibition on relationships between officers," Thomas said before looking back to both of them, "However, I'm sure I don't need to remind you two of how it will look. You appointed Captain Blake to her position, and while I know that it was because she was the best for the job, it could be argued you made that appointment based on your personal feelings towards her. And that is against regulations, sir."

"The press already believes that an inappropriate relationship was at the heart of her appointment," Sturnack replied. "However, Captain Blake was elevated long before any stirrings of romantic entanglement began."

On this Blake felt less confident in her response. She didn't doubt Sturnack, but she well understood the difficulty. Image was... in many ways... everything. "We are working with Admiral Andolini on a strategy to help keep the story clear and concise and to combat any attempts from the press to turn it into something it is not. From a legal standpoint, though, it may help to know that the Fleet Admiral and I had never met before the day I came in to interview for the position."

"As far as the press is concerned, my response is 'no comment'. But you must understand the position I'm in here. Not only is there a question of how Captain Blake obtained her position, but there is also the issue that you two began this relationship after being targeted for assassination. Many people might suspect start to doubt the validity of your statements in that regard," Thomas said being quite blunt with his assertions. He looked back towards Sturnack, "You do realize sir that an investigation into a potential conflict of interest may be unavoidable."

"Indeed," the Vulcan replied further. "There is also another inciting factor you should be aware of. The shared trauma and the isolation set the stage but it was my much-delayed Pon Farr that broke the ice." He let that bomb go off, knowing that it added another layer of complication to another already complicated issue. "Jocelyn was not coerced into anything, but I suspect that sentiment might be spurred on by this particular news."

She'd really barely had time for the blush to fade before it was back with force. She brought a hand to the bridge of her nose, using one finger to push her glasses upward. "Also true," she said, a touch of the awkwardness she was feeling clear in her tone. She wondered if it bothered Sturnack to talk about this part. He'd gone to such great lengths to hide it from her and now he had needed to lay it out to three high ranking officers. "I would have..." she glanced at Sturnack quickly wishing she could better gauge his thoughts, "helped him with the problem as his friend. We didn't know when we were going to be able to come home and the Pon Farr is life threatening. I'm sure Dr. Cowell can attest to the circumstance. He even came out to the cabin to treat Sturnack in a bid to try to avoid the inevitable." She met the JAG's gaze, willing him to understand the next part. "By the time that he shared the problem with me I had already begun to have feelings for him."

Thomas looked at both of them before sighing again. "Well, that...helps...a bit," he said choosing his words carefully. He knew that the subject of Pon Farr was a sensitive area concerning Vulcans. While there was no legal precedent he could think of, it could be argued that their actions were necessary to prevent Sturnack from dying. It was a natural act amongst Vulcans. "Regarding the conflict of interest with respect to Captain Blake, as long as there is verifiable proof that the two of you were not acquainted prior to her posting then that shouldn't be an issue as far as JAG is concerned," he said before continuing, "As I said before, there is nothing in Starfleet regulations preventing a relationship between the two of you. The fact that this began due to your...imminent Pon Farr...does offer some mitigating circumstances. It could be argued that Captain Blake's actions were a form of life saving treatment, but there is not much legal precedent there."

The sigh of relief that escaped Jocelyn was involuntary. It was. But it was relief all the same. She was thankful to know that, at least for now, there was no immediate legal challenge. She was sure some would be brought. It was far from the first time she'd been thrust into the spotlight of an investigation and set aside to avoid a scandal. It just had nothing to do with her personal life last time. "Thank you Admiral," she said, appreciation heavy in her voice. "I'm sure that there will be legal challenges brought. The press will litigate this in the news on their own, so knowing that there is, at least, no immediate legal barrier helps. I imagine Admiral Andolini will be in touch for anything the press office needs."

"Hopefully the lack of actual legal issues," Sturnack began, "will smooth the ruffled feathers of onlookers whose business, this is not." The Vulcan arched his right eyebrow, "I believe we have satisfied the goal of this meeting then, yes?" It was to Blake that the Commander-in-Chief turned, "Unless, of course, there are other items you wished to discuss?" For Sturnack, it seemed it was time to move on to the next item in a very long list of things to do. However, it was important to him that any of Jocelyn's concerns not be left behind.

Jocelyn's pause was just a bit too long as she considered, but ultimately she nodded. "I think so, yes," she replied. "I should get back to my desk though. I can walk Admiral Romanowski out if the two of you don't have any additional things to discuss?" The meaning of her question was clear -- additional things that didn't have to do with their personal lives. She didn't want to assume she should or would be privy to any other business.

Thomas looked between the two with an upraise eyebrow before nodding towards Sturnack. "Yes sir," he said before standing. "I appreciate you taking this short notice meeting Fleet Admiral," Thomas said before he waited for Jocelyn to join him.

"I am appreciative of your time as well," the Commander-in-Chief replied. "Admiral," he nodded to the man before turning to Jocelyn. "Captain Blake," Sturnack then nodded to the Press Secretary. He watched the two of them go and then tapped his combadge.

"Marlena, what's next?" the Vulcan asked.

=/\= A joint post by... =/\=

Fleet Admiral Sturnack
Commander-in-Chief
Starfleet Command

and

Captain Jocelyn Blake
Press Secretary
Starfleet Command

and

Rear Admiral Thomas Romanowski
Judge Advocate General
Starfleet Command]]>
Tue, 16 Aug 2022 20:57:20 +0000
The Whitford Problem https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/85 https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/85
Mission - Episode 3: Conflicts of Interest
Location - Sturnack's Office, Starfleet Headquarters, San Francisco
Timeline - Mission Day 2 at 0630

[Sturnack's Office]
[Starfleet Headquarters, San Francisco]
[MD 2, 0630]


The twilit dark of pre-dawn blanketed San Francisco as the denizens of Starfleet's headquarters made their way in to work. It was the most normal thing. People coming and going, nods given to security officers. Credentials displayed when needed. Offices entered and coffee replicated. The quiet bustle of those just waking up against the cacophony of the morning people.

There as much yet to do, but before Sturnack and Jocelyn had left the Andolini residence the night prior, they had agreed that Jordan would still take the press briefings for the day. It was the longest they could think of holding off if both Sturnack and Jocelyn would be once again visible, but it created space for the two to tell those in the chain of command what was going on. First and foremost among those was Joshua Whitford.

Outside of Sturnack's office, Jocelyn came to a halt. They'd arrived early, coffees in hand, but at separate times. Annoying, but a necessity just for that day while Andolini worked to manage their news. If Sturnack had been there to take her hand at that moment, he would have felt the dread roiling in her stomach. Maybe he wouldn't even need to touch her to know. It seemed to roll off of her in waves. But Sturnack was nowhere to be seen and the sound of a raised voice was coming through the door to his office.

"Yeeeeeep," Marlena spoke up, droll. "He's already in there with Admiral Whitford. I um...I don't think it's going well. Good morning, though!" she switched from a frown to a beaming grin, coming around the desk to offer her friend a hug. "I'm so glad you're both exploring this together. I know it isn't easy given all the baggage that comes with it," she said, chucking a thumb over her shoulder at Sturnack's door, "but I think this is a good thing for you two! Just um...maybe duck when you go in there?"

Jocelyn's arms wound around her friend and tightened, holding the other woman in the hug a moment longer than expressly necessary. "I'm glad you think so," she said softly. "Honestly, I just don't want to... come up short... if that makes sense. I don't want him to regret this."

She said all of this with her eyes on the door rather than on Marlena. Then she shook herself, took a deep pull on her coffee, squared her shoulders and looked at the other woman. "Might as well get it over with." And with that she stepped into the maelstrom of whatever was going on on Sturnack's office.

As the office doors opened, the raised voice of Admiral Whitford spilled into the anteroom. "You have a problem, Admiral. A big one. So big I can't even -- how could you do this? Especially now, with bombings and assassination attempts?" The DCinC didn't wait for Sturnack to answer, plowing on instead. "Do you realize what you've done, sir? I have tried so hard to get your administration off the ground. Get your agenda going and support everything...EVERYTHING," he almost shouted, "you've set a course on doing. And then you go and kick our legs out from under us. Do you even care what this looks like?"

Sturnack, for his part, sat calmly in the chair behind his desk, fingers steepled together in thought. He understood Whitford's very human reaction, though he did not share the level of concern his deputy had. Instead of replying to the tirade, however, he simply raised an eyebrow as he waited for Whitford to expend his explosive energy. The man seemed to be winding down -- reduced to embers of anger -- and the Vulcan deemed his strategy at handling Whitford to be working. Unfortunately, that was when the doors to his office opened and Jocelyn walked in.

Like a strong wind on a dying forest fire, Whitford's ire suddenly flared back to peak levels. "Oh, if it isn't little Miss Trouble herself. WHAT were you thinking?" he groused angrily, striding toward the Press Secretary. "For reasons I can't fathom, Sturnack made you Press Secretary out of fucking nowhere. For months you've gone up to bat against a press pool that's convinced you slept your way to the top. And now," he laughed haughtily, the vein in his forehead plumping up, "now you go ahead and do exactly what they thought you did. We are dealing with serious issues right now. People dying. One of them," he held up a blaming finger to point at Jocelyn, "got vaporized just for standing next to you on the street. And you go ahead and mire us in this juvenile mess? Unbelievable!" he thundered.

Jocelyn stood ramrod straight just inside the door to Sturnack's office. She had been dreading this, but this... this was more than she could take with a straight face.

"Admiral," she started to say and then seeing that Whitford wasn't about to pause in his tirade, she shouted at him. "Admiral!"

Jocleyn's voice, raised and angry, wasn't something that the DCinC had heard before. Truth be told it wasn't something Sturnack or Marlena had heard either. But Jocelyn could still recall exactly what it looked like watching Berryhill get vaporized. She remembered the smell of it and the shock of it with the kind of clarity that could replay in her head when she slept and for Whitford to imply that anything about this was juvenile was the final straw.

"I don't know what Sturnack has said to you," she thundered back at him, eyes flashing anger. She seemed to grow slightly as she spoke, the fury in her tone making her larger than life, "but if you don't get the fuck out of my face and sit the fuck down I swear I will blast your behavior and actions across every news network that will hear me and if you think that won't be enough to distract from what we are navigating right now you know zero about how the press works. They will eat you for breakfast."

Whitford's eyes grew colder than Blake had even seen them. A quiet gathered about the man, worn over the shoulder like a heavy cloak weighing him down as his gaze bored into the woman. Finally he spoke, his tone bereft of any pretense of respect. "You're going to threaten me with a tell-all exposé? Where have I seen that move before..." he trailed off, looking mock-clueless. "Oh right, I remember. That's your go-to move when the people above you don't act in accordance with your whims. And frankly, it's getting old." Cold fire burned in his eyes as he quietly began again. "You know, it's one thing to let our guard down and have it out in private, like we're doing now. Threatening me with political retribution, though...I don't quite think you've thought that through."

Whitford took a seat on the stuffed couch, putting his right leg up to rest on his left knee. "I own this town. Sure, Sturnack's above me in rank but it's me who corals the power players and it's me who's been protecting you both from the worst of it. I've had to call in favors held in reserve for myself just to keep this administration afloat and it's barely two months old. You want to threaten me, Captain? Bring it the fuck on because I will stop everything I am doing to protect you and be 100% honest with the press."

"What was Captain Blake -- Press Secretary -- doing while families mourned the deaths of their loved ones?" Whitford asked, raising his eyebrow in a dark mirror of Sturnack. "She was playing house and fucking her boss. You think they'll eat me up? Oh you just wait...you just fucking wait, Captain. Because I will win and you will never be respected in this town again, Sturnack or not."

Jocelyn's tone had turned chilly in the same way that Whitford's had, but in her case, the chill came out archly. "Is that what we're doing?" she finally asked once the man had stopped talking. "Having it out in private?" She tilted her head to the side slightly as if he had said something confusing. "It sure seemed like I walked into you tearing the CinC a new one over his private life. Neither of us is obligated to inform you of our relationship. We could, instead, have simply filed the appropriate paperwork and let you find out through those channels. Instead we wanted to show you the respect of your position and speak with you privately so we could work together. Screaming at Sturnack or myself hardly does that, but then perhaps you'd be happier if we had let Admiral Chambers inform you."

She moved past the couches and lowered herself into one of the chairs in front of Sturnack's desk. Her eyes went to his, face a mask of renewed calm, though the green of her eyes flashed still with anger and no small amount of hurt. Whether she liked it or not, Whitford's words stung. That was the difference between herself and the DCinC. She cared.

"I believe," Sturnack finally spoke up, "that emotions around this topic are understandably strong. And I realize," he continued, "that both of you have a...history," he chose the word carefully, "of disagreement and conflict. However," the Vulcan said, "the situation is, as they say, what it is. No personal affront to you was intended, Admiral," he dipped his head to Whitford, "and I am aware and appreciative of the measures you've taken to buoy the administration. Still, Captain Blake," Sturnack used her formal rank and last name, "and I have chosen, as consenting partners, to chart this course together. Should you wish to offer your resignation to avoid dealing with that fallout, I will understand," he said, looking at Whitford.

The man was quiet for a few moments, several retorts screaming to be loosed like photon torpedoes at Blake. But instead, Whitford took several calming breaks and then shook his head. "We're not there. Yet," he cautioned. He knew Sturnack needed him. He was a necessary evil to get things done with an Admiralty that was not convinced of his leadership. But Whitford also knew that he was walking a bit of a tightrope at the moment, so pulled back. "This is going to get very messy. I'm talking months of this being our life instead of keeping our focus where it really should be. I hate that the press color so much of what we do but they govern public opinion. We have to have this out with them. And like it or not," his eyes shifted to Jocelyn, "you're going to become a punching bag the likes of which you've yet to see, Captain. I'll do what I can to help, sir," he looked again to Sturnack, "but we're bleeding out while the sharks circle."

Jocelyn listened and watched as the two men exchanged words. Her heart pounded in her throat at it. There were few people she might consider an enemy, but Rear Admiral Whitford was among them. Perhaps that was short sighted of her--she knew the importance of his position and his person to the CinC. "I have been a punching bag for the majority of my career," she said calmly, trying not to let frustration color her tone. For a moment she wished for some of the cool logic her chosen partner exhibited.

Whitford looked as if he wanted to respond but was quelled by the Vulcan speaking up once again. "Captain Blake and I are aware of the potential political ramifications. However, since you have chosen to remain my Deputy," Sturnack intoned, putting the onus of the choice on Whitford, "then you will no doubt play a major role in helping us to 'smooth over' the difficulties our relationship have created. Where do you suggest we begin?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

Whitford blew out a long puff of air. "Public perception is our first priority. Admiral Sturnack told me," he turned to look at Jocelyn, "that you've already spoken with Admiral Andolini. Smart move...though it could have maybe waited until after Christmas dinner," he barbed but only lightly. "Assuming Andolini is on top of that side of things, the next is going to be wrangling the rest of the Admiralty. Sir...I want to put this delicately but I'm not quite sure how, so I'll just come out with it. Your ascension was not a popular decision with some of these people. And some of those same people are going to be against you on this. You're going to need their support if you want to continue as CinC and, well...this doesn't help that."

A pit opened up in Jocelyn's stomach. She knew most of this -- tangentially at least. Still, to hear it brought to bear as a consequence of their romance made her feel guilty and selfish. "What do you propose?" she asked the DCinC, her voice betraying little if any of the inner conflict she was struggling with.

"Keep things at work professional and distinct from your personal lives," Whitford advised. "If the Admiralty sees you both constantly in each other's orbit, all they're going to do is assume the relationship has taken over your work lives. We have to avoid that at all costs," he stressed hard. "While your jobs naturally bring you together a few times a day," Whitford replied cordially, "you need to avoid finding extra excuses to see each other while at work. No popping by just to say hello. No 'Oh, I was just thinking about you' comm messages for Marlena to deliver. And under absolutely no circumstances should you even mention Captain Blake unless you have to," he said, looking directly at Sturnack. "It needs to look as if you two aren't even involved. Like nothing has changed at all, Captain," Whitford said to Blake.

For good or ill Jocelyn couldn't argue with Whitford's reasoning. It made sense. Of course it also hadn't occurred to her that any of the sorts of things he described might happen. Everything was so new, that her brain had barely wrapped around the idea that they worked in the same building let alone any kind of interaction beyond what was normal professionally. It was a good reminder. "That makes sense," she conceded, "and seems like the right approach even without a disgruntled admiralty to be concerned with. I can assure you, Admiral, that I would prefer to keep work and personal life separate wherever it is reasonably possible to do so." She looked to Sturnack then, curious if he had any different thoughts. She didn't expect him to, but nor did she speak on his behalf.

Whitford looked at Blake for several long moments, attempting to assess whether or not he believed her thoughts on professionalism. He finally let out a soft sigh and nodded. "I'm happy to hear that, Captain. And thank you," he said and meant it. As the woman turned to Sturnack, Whitford did the same, wondering if the Vulcan had additional questions or counsel he might be seeking. When the Vulcan simply nodded in response to the plan -- asking nothing further -- the Deputy CinC recognized the gesture as one meaning there was nothing more to say for the time being. "I know you're busy. You've got that call with Admiral Celeste in a few minutes. But please do everything you can to keep things status quo around here. I promise to do what I can to help with the Admiralty," he offered congenially.

"Thank you, Admiral," Sturnack nodded to Whitford. He watched as the man rose from his seat and left the office, the double doors closing behind him with a whoosh. "Well, that was initially explosive," the Vulcan commented dryly. "However, we seem to have reached a favorable outcome. I find it best to allow Whitford to get out the rancor and then maneuver him into shouldering responsibility as a result of his own choices. Do you think I succeeded?" he asked Jocelyn.

There was a different feel to this point of discussion, a recognition of the blurring of lines as Sturnack asked her opinion. In this, at least, their relationship and their jobs were overlapped. For all that Jocelyn had insisted that the boundaries were there -- and she truly meant it -- the lines themselves felt greyed and indistinct. "I think so," she said softly. "He hates me, though. It's going to gall him to do anything that throws even a modicum of support in my direction." She sighed. "How did I do?"

"Under the circumstances," the CinC-and-lover replied, "I admire your restraint. It is unfortunate that Admiral Whitford is correct in his assertions that his clout is needed. Were he not such an effective political operative, I would have asked for his resignation long ago. I apologize that you must continue to endure him," Sturnack said, reaching out to take Jocelyn's hand. Beneath the surface of his emotional control -- which kept his facial expression locked into one of impassivity -- an undercurrent of lament could clearly be identified. The Vulcan gently stroked the forefinger of the woman with his own, a sign of intimacy among his own people. "We still have others to tell...but I believe the worst meeting just ended?"

Blue-green eyes dropped to their joined hands and the soft movement of Sturnack's forefinger against her own. A soft breath left her as the emotional connection re-established with the touch, like pulling back a curtain to reveal a much richer deeper view beyond. She was aware of his lament and also of the intimacy that his touch indicated, not because she had understood the cultural significance, but because she felt that depth of affection flow from him to her. Her own emotions were, as always, so much less organized. Frustration at Whitford. Relief that he was no longer in the room. Longing... that one was perhaps the most unexpected. She found herself wishing they could go somewhere. Be alone again. Not have to deal with the rest of those prying eyes. Even if the worst was behind them, there were still plenty of hard conversations ahead.

"How long do you think it will take until I get used to that?" she said softly, eyes lifting to regard him even as she returned his gesture by running her own forefinger along his. "This, I mean," she said indicating their joined hands.

"I have found," Sturnack replied, conjoining fingers then, "that most humans are not prepared for contact with touch telepaths. You may have noticed that my people typically refrain from physical contact with others. This is not rudeness: we are protecting ourselves and you from the strength of our emotions. That is not to say that an emotional connection will form with just anyone but we must remain guarded. Even what you are experiencing now is a pale shade of what it could be. It's like..." he stopped then, searching for an analogy, "it's like a garden hose. You have seen one, yes? What we have with this connection is but the tiniest turn of the knob that governs the water. Perhaps when you have adjusted to this, we will turn it further," he trailed off.

Jocelyn's finger had stilled as he spoke, taking in the reality, the implication, of what he was saying. Her eyes fell to their fingers, looking at them with something like amazement on her face. "If this..." she began, slowly resuming the soft stroke of her finger against his, "if this is only a small amount..." She stopped, gaze returning to his face. "Will you feel more... from me?" She asked then. "I mean... is... is that something you might want?"

"An apt question," Sturnack replied, eyes also on the entanglement of fingers. "The connection will become more intense for both of us, yes," he nodded slowly, his voice soft...almost tender. "Feeling what you feel will allow me to better understand you. The reverse, I hope you have discovered, is also true. I do not have to be governed by your emotions to understand but I do need to guard myself against their strength. And versa, so will you, Jocelyn. I must warn you...Vulcan emotions are incredibly volatile. They are like surging storms under the surface of our control."

"I have..." she tried to think of the right word; one that wouldn't seem too illicit considering the circumstances, "experienced you without control." It was a reminder as much as anything. A wash of emotion splashed through their connection toward him as memories of the culmination of his Pon Farr moved through her mind. It had been a singular experience, one that was hard to describe in words. Having that with Sturnack had simultaneously been the most intimate and intense experience of her life. "I understand you suppress emotion," she finished after a short pause, "but I was glad to know of them... to feel them with you... for a time. I will be glad to do it again."

"Indeed. We have much to explore, I believe," the Vulcan nodded back. "But for now, we should get back to work. As...intimate as these stolen moments are, we did promise not to let our relationship interfere with work. And," Sturnack almost lamented, "there is so much of it to do now that we are back." His fingers fell away from hers as he rose, moving towards the double doors of his office. "Are we staying at your place again tonight?" he asked, content to let Jocelyn make the decision. She could choose his companionship if she wanted. She could also choose to be alone should she wish. It was, indeed, very much up to her.

She stood when he did, but stayed by the chair at his question. "I... often... meet Dr. Cowell for a drink after work. And I'd like to tell him about us myself, if that's alright. I imagine he'll be at our usual spot tonight. It's not far from my place. I..." She closed her mouth before words could get ahead of her thinking. It had, certainly, been weeks, since she'd stayed anywhere alone. The last time had been the night before the bombing when she'd ended up sleeping at work, too afraid to be alone in her apartment. After that it had always been at Jordan's place or, more recently, at The Fortress. The thought of being alone made her uneasy, but she was equally uneasy asking him to stay with her when she knew he had a desire to move things slowly. "I do want to be with you," she said, the complicated set of emotions coming out in her tone of voice, "but tonight I'll stay on my own." Had the emotional link still been connected the wash of unease bordering on fear that washed through her at the decision would have been evident. Instead, though, she plastered on a small smile and moved toward where he stood at the double doors. "Back to work for both of us then."

"Very well," the Vulcan nodded in response, not feeling the same struggle as his paramour. "Staying at my own place will afford me time and opportunity to deeply meditate, which I've not had the opportunity to do since returning from The Fortress. There is much to think on," he tipped his head to the woman. Indeed, Sturnack found himself looking forward to the time alone, especially with so many recent events in need of sorting through and deliberating. "I am sure Doctor Cowell will be...chuffed?" he asked, confirming the word choice. "Yes, chuffed to see his predictions bear fruit. Enjoy the evening and we will talk later."

And with that, Press Secretary and Commander-in-Chief parted, both having no end of heavy lifting to do now that they'd returned.

=/\= A joint post by... =/\=

Fleet Admiral Sturnack
Commander-in-Chief
Starfleet Command

and

Captain Jocelyn Blake
Press Secretary
Starfleet Command]]>
Tue, 09 Aug 2022 20:59:41 +0000
Legal Mumbo Jumbo https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/81 https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/81
Mission - Episode 3: Conflicts of Interest
Location - Intelligence Director's Office, Starfleet Command
Timeline - Mission Day 3 at 1100

The change is rank had already been quite a turnaround the respect level seemed to shift when Tenai came around and it had only been a day. He was sitting in his office looking over the latest intel briefs of the day. It wasn't anything that needed immediate attention. He added the information to his PADD and looked through his itinerary for the day. He grimaced at the appointment to meet the Judge Advocate General because of the upcoming interrogation of the prisoner.

He looked at the time and realized he needed to be on his way. He notified his secretary that he would be away and gave her the usual spiel of what to say. As the secretary was the same person who had been with him as a Deputy Director. HE made his way through the complex to the offices of the JAG and walked in the waiting area. He walked up to the aide "Excuse me, I am here to meet Admiral Romanowski. Tell him it's Admiral Dexu."

Sandra, Thomas's aid, looked up from her work at the tall man she was having trouble placing. He was obviously Trill, the spots running along the side of his face showing behind the hair. She smiled up at him, "Just a moment, sir. he's been on a conference call with the Federation Interstellar Advocates all morning. Follow me." She stood from her desk and rounded it while heading towards the JAG's office. She pressed the chime and waited for a response.

Thomas sat at his desk which was covered in various PADDs and legal texts. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he sighed. The conference call he had been on all morning had not been an enjoyable one. The counter injunction being filed was being met with heavy resistance by both the Romulans and several other Federation member worlds. He wasn't sure how much time he would be able to buy for Starfleet to finish its investigation. At the sound of the chime, he looked up, "Yes?"

The door opened and Sandra stepped in, "Admiral Dexu asked to see you, sir." She walked over to his desk, collecting his long empty mug of coffee before stepping back out of the office.

Thomas rose from his desk and offered his hand to the new Director of Intelligence. "Admiral Dexu, pleasure to meet you. Congratulations on your appointment, though I wish it was under better circumstances," Thomas said while motioning to the open chair in front of his desk.

Tenai smiled slightly and took a seat after shaking Thomas's hand firmly. "The pleasure is all mine Admiral Romanowski, though I do agree I wish this was under better circumstances. Thank you I never thought I would be the Director, but here we are." Tenai looked at the Admiral with a serious look.

"I have to admit I am entering this investigation rather blind except for the one person who came to question me regarding the incident. I am wanting to see what needs to be done so the interrogation of the suspect is legal. I know Starfleet has had some issues lately in that department and I would like to interrogate him the way I was taught. I want to make sure this is done by the book for the sake of all of us here in Command."

Thomas leaned back in his chair and looked at the man with a raised eyebrow, "Legally speaking Homeworld Security is the primary investigator for this case. The Romulans have declined our offers for a joint investigation and they sought an injunction in the Interstellar courts to prevent us from proceeding. We filed a counter claim since the Federation has standing to conduct an investigation as the protecting power for the embassy, not to mention Federation citizens were also killed." He paused before looking pointedly at Tenai, "I wasn't aware we had a suspect to interrogate at this time?"

Tenai settled back into his chair "Well sounds like you have been dealing with the Romulans locking us out. I am not surprised they don't like the Federation and usually do everything to make sure we don't know the truth. It's not something we were making public immediately, but now that it is a vital part of the investigation. I knew it prudent to inform JAG."

"Well, to keep this above board so to speak, any interrogation must follow Starfleet Regulations. Has he been given the opportunity to retain counsel," Thomas asked.

Tenai shook his head "All indications from the suspect have been shrouded in silence. We have not been able to even see if they want counsel. I know this is a fragile situation and not something we want to mess up so to speak. I have tried to find some information regarding the suspect and someone has made that incredibly difficult."

Thomas gave Tenai an upraised eyebrow. "Just because he is remaining silent doesn't mean that he shouldn't be given the opportunity for counsel, " he said before continuing, "Regarding the suspect's identity, your not able to locate anything?"

Tenai shook his head "There has been no luck or indication in discovering the identity of the suspect." He said looking visibly annoyed at the lack of information of the suspect.

"Well, I can see about obtaining a warrant for a DNA sample if he won't cooperate," he said reaching out and grabbing one of the many PADDs on his desk to make a note. He looked back up at Tenai, "I would like to reiterate that Homeworld Security needs to be the primary on this. Intelligence can observe the interrogation, but not conduct it."

Tenai sighed "As much as I want to conduct it I know it is not my place and I have been following procedures. It's one of the reasons I came to finally introduce myself to you."

"Good good," Thomas said nodding his head before leaning back in his chair again. "Has there been any more chatter about this? I know the Federation Diplomatic Corps has been going nuts over this incident, not to mention the press."

Tenai shifted slightly in his chair "Chatter is always happening no matter how much we try to keep something quiet the information is leaked. We have been trying to not only silence the leaks but to discover where it is coming from. My team has been able to quiet some of the chatter, but there are some I just have no ability to reach. The Diplomatic asked for our help and the press have done nothing but push the public affair for more information." He said as he concluded answering the question.

"Hopefully we can resolve this soon," Thomas said with a sigh before he looked back at the Intelligence chief. "I'm doing my best to keep the Romulans at bay, but I wouldn't put it past them to send in some Tal Shiar to do their own investigating behind the scenes," he said. Thomas knew full well that the Romulan Intelligence service was capable of doing just that.

Tenai nodded "I have had my analyst watching for any reports of possible Tal Shiar agents' movement. I also hope we can get this resolved soon, but the Romulans aren't usually ones to play fair for that matter." Tenai stopped grabbing the PADD he was holding "Here is all the information we have so far. I figured if this is to run smoothly we should all work together." He said with a slight grin.

Thomas accepted the PADD with an upraised eyebrow. While he agreed that if everyone worked together, the investigation would run a lot smoother. But call it professional skepticism, He knew that intel spooks always had a hidden agenda somewhere. During his career, Thomas always took Intel's word with a grain of salt. But this was different. Thomas was the JAG now, and he had to trust that Tenai would keep everything kosher. "I agree, and thank you for this," Thomas said indicating the PADD and giving the man a smile before leaning back in his seat. "Now, why don't you tell me what you didn't show me," Thomas said with an upraised eyebrow letting some humor come through his voice. He knew this meeting would define the two men's working relationship, and he wanted Tenai to know that Thomas would not be one he could fool.

Tenai had to admit Thomas was shrewd, but he appreciated that. “I’ll admit you got me, but unfortunately I can’t show everything it’s part of the job. However I promise to be as transparent with you as possible when it comes to Intel you may need to know about.” Tenai realized this meeting wasn’t just about information, but the relationship between the two men. He could say Thomas wasn’t like most legal people in fact Tenai was coming to like the man because of his honesty.

"I appreciate that, and you have the same commitment from me," Thomas said letting a smile come to his face. His point had been made and received, and Thomas was growing to like the new Intel Chief. His relationship with Tenai's predecessor had been difficult at times, but the current climate dictated a strong relationship between the two. Thomas patted the top of his desk before standing, "Well Admiral, I have to draft a response for the Interstellar Court regarding our injunction filed against the Romulans. Please keep me updated on the status of the interrogation of the suspect, but I'd recommend doing it quick. I can't guarantee how much more time i can buy you," he said as he extended his hand for the man to take.

Tenai smiled and took the handshake “I will make sure do just that! Thank you for your insight and knowledge in the legal part of this situation. If you’ll excuse me I’m going to make preparations for the interrogation. If Intel can help you in anyway let me know.” Tenai stood and departed, though most saw the JAG as the bad guy Tenai didn’t and maybe that would make things easier here on out.

=/\= A joint post by... =/\=

Rear Admiral Tenai Dexu
Director, Starfleet Intelligence
Starfleet Command

and

Rear Admiral Thomas Romanowski
Judge Advocate General
Starfleet Command]]>
Sat, 16 Jul 2022 01:51:49 +0000
Returning to the The Well https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/83 https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/83
Mission - Episode 3: Conflicts of Interest
Location - The Well on the Presidio
Timeline - Mission Day 2 at 2000

The Well was quiet that evening, but to Jocelyn the introduction of any amount of people felt alarming. She was trailed by two security officers, though, her ever-present shadows in the last 24 hours. One stayed outside while the other slid into a booth in the bar, eyes scanning the room as she did.

How many days had it been since she’d set foot in this bar? She tried to calculate as she slid into one of the seats, eyes scanning for Mike, hoping for the familiarity of the bartender who was usually on at this hour.

“Captain Blake…” Mike said as he came around the bar from the back, a grin on his face. “I was beginning to think a search party might be warranted.”

Jocelyn offered him a weak sort of smile, “No search parties warranted. You wouldn’t have been able to find me anyway.”

The bartender’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t ask. “What’s your poison tonight?”

“Whisky,” she said with a shrug. “Seems like the right place to start.”

“Make it two,” a voice called out from just slightly behind the woman. Footsteps that hadn’t been heard on his approach seemed to suddenly call out as the owner of the voice pulled a stool out from underneath the bar. When the figure came into view, the visage of an elderly man became clear.

“So, out of the hole?” Cowell said with a snort as he leaned up against the bar.

She shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was all the same. With a quick glance to the side she nodded, then turned back to stare down at her hands where she’d settled them in front of her on the bar. “That I am,” she remarked. “Apparently it’s safe to come out of hiding.”

“And the first place you go is the bar,” the old man said with a smirk, “Can’t say I’m not proud of you for your stick-with-it-ness.”

“The first place I went was Andolini’s house to get ahead of the press. Then home. Then bed. Then work. And now here. I’ve been out of the hole almost a day. But yes… first free moment… here.” She smirked down at her hands before looking up again. “You seem to be all in one piece despite the lack of a drinking partner.”

“I’ve been drinking alone longer than your people have been able to fly in space. A few months won’t kill me. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t a pain in the ass having to deal with the bar flies that buzz around sometimes when you try to sit in a corner and sip a drink or two without being social,” Nathan grumbled.

Mike walked back up to the bar, sliding the two drinks in front of his two patrons, “You missed a good show while you were gone. The old man chased off a mess of fresh graduates who wanted to celebrate just by clearing his throat. I haven’t seen kids bolt like that in a good while.”

“Pfft…” the old man rolled his eyes at the bartender, “If one good grunt is enough to run them off, Starfleet’s headed down the toilet and there’s no savin’ it.”

“Sorry to have missed that,” the redhead commented, though there was a little less joviality to it than her usual. She snagged the glass that had been set in front of her and lifted it, looking at the whisky a moment before tipping it back in one go and setting the glass back down.

“Probably better to bring the bottle,” she commented to Mike with a shrug before turning back to the elderly man next to her. “What?”

“What what?” the old man asked with a deadpan look, “That’s nothing unusual.”

Mike shook his head at the exchange and moved off to grab the bottle that he’d just opened. The bottle hadn’t even made it to the counter before Cowell’s hand was around it, “I’m gonna grab the usual booth. Rustle up a snack for us if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Gotcha,” the bartender nodded as Cowell slipped off the stool and made his way over to a secluded booth near the rear of the floor. The bottle he was holding found its way to the table top before the old man’s posterior slammed roughly into the cushions of the booth. A few obviously exaggerated groans later and he was sitting roughly half way in the middle of one of the two seats.

“So, since we’re going to get fucked up anyway, you might as well tell me what’s got you flustered while you’re not already three sheets to the wind. It’ll probably be a better story if you’ve only just started drinking,” Cowell said, bringing his own glass up to his lips for a sip.

Jocelyn had followed the old man, trailing behind with a nod to the security officer. She hoped they’d recognize who she was with, but then again, she’d no reason to be sure. Once she’d settled opposite him, the bottle in the middle of the table, she reached over, pouring a few fingers back into the glass she’d drained.

“Well…” she said slowly, buying a moment to decide how to proceed. She brought the glass to her lips again, sipping this time. No point getting too far ahead of herself. “There’s an assassin caught, but no certitude of who he was after yet. So that’s fun. There’s a solid chance the press is going to take a crack at me sooner than later because that’s something they like to do. Last time that happened someone vandalized my apartment, so…” she shrugged, sipping again. “And you know… you could have mentioned what was going on with the CinC when you stopped by.”

“He had a right to keep it to himself if he didn’t want to discuss it,” Cowell said flatly, “Telling you anything wouldn’t have made a whole hell of a lot of difference in the long run. Don’t get me wrong, I wish I could have at least given you a few more hints than I did but even what I did give you was pushing the boundaries a bit. Much as I like you, Red, I’m a doctor before I’m your friend. Just some things I won’t go into without the patient saying it was alright to do. And anyway, he swore up and down he could keep it in his pants. Why? Did he drop trow after all?”

“I know that,” she said resignedly, “and I wouldn’t have honestly expected you to tell me anyway.” She turned her glass absently on the table, fingers shifting along the edge. How much to say was a bit of a question, but her cheeks had already flushed pink and so she knew she wasn’t going to get away with withholding much. “Yup,” was her very short response to that question. Even that much resulted in a bit deeper of a blush.

“Regretting it? Or just sorting it all out still?” Nathan asked abruptly.

“Sorting,” she replied without hesitation. She’d considered whether she should be regretting it over the last two days, but even with the mess of bureaucracy that was about to take place she felt pretty confident she didn’t. And… she knew he didn’t either which helped. “It’s a lot to take in,” she commented. “And I wasn’t exactly… aware… of what was involved beforehand.”

“Tends to just reach out and bite you in the ass. Been through it a time or two myself,” Nathan nodded as he drained his glass, “But if you’re not wallowing in regret and self-loathing by now, I’d say just run with it and see what happens. Worst case scenario, you two don’t work out. Not the end of the world.”

Cowell reached out and grabbed the bottle, whiskey slouching into his glass before it was returned to the tabletop. Just as the old man was about to take a good sip of his newly poured drink, Mike appeared with the snacks that Cowell had asked for, though he hadn’t actually bothered to specify any sort of preference.

“You know us well,” the old man smirked as a tray of mozzarella sticks was positioned in front of him.

“You come here enough. I’d be pretty lousy at this job if I couldn’t remember something as simple as your snack order by now,” the bartender chuckled.

“You make a damn good point,” Nathan said, hoisting his glass in a mocking toast.

“Thanks Mike,” Jocelyn called to the retreating bartender’s back. She fished a mozzarella stick out of the basket and popped the end in her mouth, pulling back for the satisfying enjoyment of a long string of mozzarella.

“This feels weirdly normal,” she commented once she’d finished the bite, gesturing with the half eaten snack as she did. “And yeah. We’re going to give it a go and see what happens, but…” she took another bite, chewing quickly. “Unless you were also partaking of the… benefits… of a relationship with the CinC of Starfleet… I am hoping you didn’t have to jump through quite so many hoops or as many people needing to know.”

“Can’t say I’ve slept with a CinC…” Nathan said before pausing, “Wait… I think I actually did once. But that was before she took over, so it doesn’t count. I think we were on the Lexington together, if memory serves. Nice girl. Tight ass. Wasn’t much of an engineer though. Don’t know who recommended her for a command billet but… meh.”

Another mozzarella stick disappeared while the old man mulled over his past relationships before he got back around to the topic at hand, “As long as you two can keep your professional lives separate, there’s not a whole lot anyone can really do about you two knocking boots or… whatever the hell it is Vulcans do these days. Last one I was with was back in my Fleet days…”

She’d been sipping her whisky as he spoke and looked down at her glass a moment, noting that perhaps sipping wasn’t the right descriptor. With a sigh she set the glass back down. “Sure,” she said. He was, technically, correct, but he hadn’t been accused of getting his position through exchanges of favors. Even if that accusation came from someone whose words shouldn’t hold any weight, it had gotten around and the way it had been shut down wouldn’t help this situation.

“Any tips?” she said, finally. “The hand holding thing is pretty convenient. Considering how hard they are to read.”

“That’s true. Touch telepaths have a way of surprising you with things like that. Probably why they never liked shaking hands when humans first started having regular contact with them,” Cowell smirked.

“As for tips…” the old man said as he leaned back, “Best advice I can give you is never take what a Vulcan says about their feelings at face value. For all the shit they talk about being honest, they’ll lie like a Ferengi looking to seal a deal if you start asking them how they feel, what they feel, all that jazz. Funny part is, they’re lying to themselves more than they are to you. Makes it a bit comical when you stop and think about it.”

Nathan took another snack out of the basket and rolled it in his fingers, “Just don’t get wrapped up in your own species’ tendency to demand outward affection. You’ll rarely get that from a Vulcan. If you’re fine with a touch here and a nod there, it can actually be rather fulfilling to be with one. And hell, you’ll never run out of things to argue about as long as you don’t use any semblance of logic in your arguments.”

That earned him a laugh. She couldn’t even imagine being at a spot where arguments were a thing to think about–it was that new. She tipped the bottle, returning her glass to the appropriate volume before lifting it and swirling the glass and taking another long sip. “What about you?” she asked, not changing the subject for any reason so much as being curious what the old man had been up to in the window where she wasn’t his regular drinking partner. “Other than scaring off kids, what have you been up to?”

“About the same as always, stitching up holes that didn’t come naturally in people, shit like that,” Cowell said with a shrug, “Don’t have much in the way of an entertaining life outside of work. If I’m not scaring off spineless babies at least once a day, I can’t say I’ve really contributed to the world, now can I?”

Giving him a look over her glass of whiskey that made it clear she thought full well he contributed plenty, scaring kids or not, she made a non-commital noise in response. “No new bombings at least, so… that seems like a plus in your line of work.” The glass returned to her lips as she sipped, slower again. Returning the glass to the table she frowned over at him. “It wasn’t a huge amount of time, but it feels like I missed an age of things while we were hiding away.”

“Can’t say that you did,” the old man said with a noncommittal shrug, “But I suppose you’d be a bit more apt to think like that than I would. You just haven’t seen enough yet to make it all seem kind of routine… even the bombings.”

“You were right, you know,” she said after a few moments of quiet between the two. Comfortable silences had become a normal thing in the evenings they found themselves at the same bar. “About him being right in front of my nose.” A memory from a conversation they’d had before the incident at 18th and Constitution nudged its way to the top of her mind. “What did you tell him during that visit? Or am I not allowed to know even after…”

“Something about if he were going to do it, he shouldn’t do it half assed,” Nathan muttered with a frown, “I don’t know… something to that effect. Can’t remember every conversation I have with love-sick idiots. I’m a doctor, not a therapist.”

The image that formed in her head was comical. The Doc giving Sturnack relationship advice… no… more likely sex advice in light of the circumstance… in the language he tended toward. She pressed her lips together trying to stifle the giggle that threatened to escape at the scene. “What I wouldn’t give to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation.”

“Wasn’t that great,” Cowell grunted, “Your man isn’t exactly the type that listens with those big ass ears of his. If he was, you two probably would have been together a hot minute already. But it is what it is, as they say. Just good that you two aren’t still fumbling around in the dark.”

Cowell leaned back and came to rest on the plush backrest behind him, “Some folks go all their lives fumbling around. Seen a lot of good folks go down the winding road to nowhere with the person they were yearning for staring holes in their heads, oblivious to it all. That’s a true waste of a life, if you wanna know what I think. I have to admit I’m jealous of you short lived kids… you only get a hundred or so years to fuck it up. Imagine how horrid it would be if the universe had given you a few thousand to work with?”

One eyebrow quirked upward at his remark, the expression uncommon on her features… at least in the form it took at that moment. “You sound almost maudlin there Doc,” she commented wryly. “Never known you to regret any ounce of the time you’ve had no matter how many centuries.” Her expression evened out then, forehead creasing slightly as she gave him a slightly incredulous look. “Though I admit… nice to enjoy the intimate parts of it while I’m young enough to participate well.” It was a jab, though a toothless one. She was aware that her own experience far paled in comparison to anything she could throw at him. A bit like a toddler standing in front of an adult stamping its feet and insisting that it does, in fact, know better.

“You can go through your entire life not regretting a thing and still look back on it thinking you could have done something… or a whole mess of somethings a whole lot better than you did. Part of getting old. Looking back becomes less of a novelty and more of a necessity. Who knows… maybe that’s why growing old isn’t something everyone does, they didn’t take the time to stop and look back to learn a lesson or two and ran head first into the void,” the old man said with a somber chuckle.

Nathan leaned forward after an extended pause and seized his glass, raising it up to just above eye level. “Here’s to all the magnificent bastards that never had to worry about looking back.” Without waiting for any manner of reply, Nathan downed his remaining whiskey with a flourish and slammed the glass against the ground, shattering the drinking vessel.

“The fuck, old man!” came the indignant shout of the bartender.

“Oh lighten up, you tightwad… you know damn well you replicate those things anyway,” Cowell shouted back.

“I’m talking about the clean up, you selfish prick,” came the immediate reply.

Nathan rolled his eyes and scooted to the edge of the bench, catching sight of the man that had been his drinking companion’s shadow.

“Oi!” the elderly man barked, “Get a broom, will ya?”

Jocelyn’s security detail… or half of it at least… looked up at the old man, a bit of a deer in headlights look on his face, his head swiveling to make sure that it was, in fact, him that the doctor was addressing. “I’m sorry, sir?” he said, thinking perhaps he’d heard the man wrong.

“I didn’t ask you for a life history, boy. I told you to grab a broom. You do know what those are, don’t you son? About yay tall, bristles on the end of them…” Nathan said, making several explanatory gestures from his seat.

From her spot across from Cowell, Jocelyn had brought a hand to her mouth in a poor attempt to mask the laughter in her expression. The officer glanced from Cowell to her, clearly not aware of who he was talking to after all, but not exactly sure about leaving his post to do as he was told.

Working to compose herself Jocelyn gave the man a nod resulting in an expression mixing mortification and sheer and utter disbelief at her agreement with the order.

Getting slowly to his feet the man made his way over to the counter, glancing back several times as if he thought maybe the two were playing a prank from which he would quickly be relieved. They weren’t though, and a moment later, broom in hand, he returned mumbling something about elite training and brooms never being part of the curriculum.

The young man’s grumble did not escape Cowell’s notice and the old man flashed a rather malicious grin at Red before suddenly leaving the table in a flurry of motion. By the time either of the two realized what had happened, Cowell had the broom against the man’s throat, pressed just firmly enough to let him know that he couldn’t worm out of it even if he’d tried.

“Back during the Second World War here on Earth, I learned a whole hell of a lot about taking a man out with something as simple as a broom. Get the drop on anyone with ‘elite’ training and he’s about as helpless as you are now. If you’d have been alive back then, kid, you’d have died the first day with that kind of attitude. Maybe before you go bitching about why you’re doing something, you might want to think about why you’re being asked to do something. You don’t know who I am, do you son?” Cowell almost whispered into the young man’s ear.

He shook his head quickly, prompting Cowell to continue, “Doctor Nathan Cowell. In the time you’ve spent sitting in that booth pretending to watch Red over there, I’ve already gotten a pretty good handle on how good you are at what you do. I ain’t impressed. So do me a favor, kid, and sweep this glass up, then march your happy ass outside and wait with your less inept partner. Ain’t nothing going to get her in here while I’m around.”

The old man let go of the man and patted him on the back, “There’s a good kid.”

Jocelyn’s expression had turned from mirth to concern as she watched the event unfold faster than she could even blink at what the old man was doing–a reminder to her that despite all the grousing he was still far less elderly than his outward appearance let on. Or at least far less incapable than someone who looked his age was expected to be.

“You do know that I want them to… you know… like me… right?” she asked when the doctor resumed his seat. “You can’t follow me everywhere and…” Here her eyes darted around the space again, seeing ghosts in corners where there was nothing to see. She threw back what was left in her glass, setting it down carefully before setting her hands in her lap. The return to a space less heavily guarded… even though they’d told her the assassin was caught… even though the threat had seemingly passed… hadn’t been the easiest transition. “And I’d just as soon not get shot at or find myself on the receiving end of shrapnel again anytime soon.”

“Not for nothin’, Red, but I couldn’t give a shit whether they like you or not. What I do care about is whether they can actually protect you or not. And from what I’ve seen…” Cowell gave the young security officer a very withering look before continuing, “You’re not in the best of hands. Lucky for you, I can be in most of the right places… and I have a few friends that are in a few more of the right places. We’ll just work on the assumption that I’ve called in a handful of favors and you shouldn’t jump at shadows.”

Cowell motioned toward the window that was sitting at the other end of the booth meaningfully.

She frowned, heart in her throat for a moment as he spoke and her eyes followed his motion toward the window, seeing nothing worthy of note. “Are you moving into my apartment with me?” she asked, though the sarcasm of the comment was weak at best.

“Hardly,” Nathan said, “Just take a good look at what’s out there.”

The frown deepened, but she did as he asked, scanning the space beyond the window. “Nothing,” she commented. “Am I supposed to see something out there?”

“You found it already,” the old man smirked, “There’s nothing out there. Nothing that’s going to get you. You just enjoy your honeymoon with your Vulcan and let me worry about what’s out beyond the periphery. Although, I’m not actually going to be lifting a finger. That’s what calling in favors is for.”

The temptation to disagree with him was high. Experience over the last few months had given her plenty of reason to believe something was out there and that something could get her. They had barely caught on to the danger when the assassin struck and as it was one of the two security personnel had lost their life. Still she’d had no reason not to trust Cowell until now. So she kept her reservations to herself, drawing in a slow breath and nodding.

“We’re not married,” she commented with another quirked eyebrow. “And if this is a honeymoon… shouldn’t I be in a sumptuous room somewhere being… what was the term… broken in half?”

“If you were with anything other than a Vulcan, probably. But you had to go and pick a weird one,” Cowell snickered, “Maybe one of these days you’ll get to see him when he isn’t in control of his emotions and you’ll get to enjoy the wild ride.”

Nathan gave the woman a coy wink, “It’s worth the wait.”

Her expression matched coyness for coyness. “That was… sort of… the entre to the relationship,” she said with a pointed look. “But you know that already because you’re his doctor.”

“I know that already because I have eyes,” the old man snorted indignantly, “Remember, I have about 500 years of experience to go by.”

“There is that,” she said back before sliding back out of the booth and making her way to the bar. She returned a moment later with a fresh glass and slid it in front of the old man. Without pausing she hefted the bottle, tilting a not insignificant measure of whisky into the glass before topping up her own.

“I have missed you,” she said fondly, tilting her glass in his direction before tipping it back to take a long draught.
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Mon, 06 Jun 2022 13:52:23 +0000
Big News https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/74 https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/74
Mission - Episode 3: Conflicts of Interest
Location - Andolini Resdience, Illinois, North American district
Timeline - Mission Day 1 at 1800

[Andolini Residence]
[MD 1: 1800 Hours]


The evening was their usual Christmas plans, dinner was non replicated, and the family was all together. Tomorrow would be the big family dinner where everyone shows up and the house is crowded, usually after mass.

Dogs were consistently underfoot, both Bear, the large lab/husky mix and Juno, who was a mix of some sort of shepherd and what was described as some sort of wolf creature, who were trying to obtain snacks of dinner, usually from the younger children, and of course from the Admiral. Maria had taken some leave to come home for the celebrations, and her brothers were enjoying getting to pick on their sister again.

As they dug in to their dinner the dogs perked up hearing something outside and going to begin the investigation.

[Concurrently]

"He said 'any time,"' Jocelyn was saying as she came up the walk of Sal Andolini's home. Her hand was tucked in Sturnack's, a habit that had formed extremely quickly over the last 24 hours. "And getting ahead of even the slightest possibility of this news breaking without our say so... it's important." She sighed, nervousness flowing through the link alongside her certainty that this was the right step even in light of the holiday.

"Though he indicated that any time was permissible," the Vulcan replied, "surely he did not anticipate a Christmas visit. We should expect some level of potential consternation, though perhaps this will help," Sturnack said, lifting the bottle of burgundy red they'd brought with them from The Fortress. According to its label, the wine was over 50 years old -- a gift to hopefully smooth over the unexpected drop in. Perhaps the wine would even soften the enormity of the bomb they were about to drop? Through the link, some of Sturnack's own unspoken and unacknowledged nervousness shone through as well. Despite his placid mask, the Vulcan clearly was uncomfortable.

They reached the door and Jocelyn turned, looking at Sturnack and squeezing his hand slightly before releasing it. Telling Starfleet's Communications Director about their newly embarked upon relationship was the first of many people who needed to be let in on the news and she was ready to get it over with. Like ripping off a bandaid, she thought. Her hand came up to the chime that would alert those inside of their presence, setting off a cacophony of barking from behind the door.

"Canines?" the Vulcan asked, raising an eyebrow. He'd been about to say more when the door opened, the face of the Communications Director becoming visible. "

The barking preceded the bell and soon Sal had gotten the door after shooing both dogs away from the door but they were still trying to get close and see the new people who would be come friends because all bipeds liked them. When he got the door opened he saw his Press Secretary and the Commander in Chief of Starfleet on his porch.

"Ah, Admiral. Happy Christmas," Sturnack said with zero enthusiasm, offering the bottle of wine out to the man. "We are sorry for intruding on your...special day," he said rotely, recalling Jocelyn's earlier coaching. "Please accept this gift as both apology and invitation to imbibe." The whole thing was comical, though the Vulcan did seem to be trying.

After the greeting and offer of the bottle, Sal waved them in, "Come in, it's cold out there." As they stepped in he again shooed the dogs off, both of whom began sniffing the newcomers, trying to place scents. "You'll have to excuse Bear and Juno, they want to say hello." He indicated which dog was which.

"Please let me introduce the brood, my wife Connie, my daughter Maria, my sons Lorenzo and Pietro. "

Jocelyn slipped past Sturnack into the house, following in Sal's wake and reaching down to greet both of the dogs with pats before turning to make sure the Vulcan was with her. The aforementioned Andolinis were all arrayed around a family table and Jocelyn felt her cheeks flush as they were introduced. "Hi," she said giving a small wave at the table. "I'm Jocelyn." She turned, gesturing to the Vulcan who had stationed himself just behind her and to her right. "And this is Sturnack."

"Greetings," Sturnack offered, eyeing the family members as they were introduced in turn before dipping his head in acknowledgment. It was the dogs, however, that drew the bulk of the Vulcan's attention as he looked down at the pair of canines swirling about their feet. He'd never particularly been comfortable around dogs -- he didn't understand the human need of their companionship -- but he offered his hand for them to smell anyway, understanding they needed the scent to perhaps feel comfortable and calm down.

The dogs found the Admiral interesting he smelled different so after some sniffs, however their curiousity was satisfied. and they now find the smells from the kitchen more interesting, perhaps one of the food givers left some stuff out to obtain. They were only helping

The family had different reactions, Connie, who was used to wierdness, being Sal had sometimes had coworkers come over when he was working for the tribune, especially when working on a major story, so she just did her best smile and said "Hello."

Maria had a look on her face that was 1/2 shock, 1/2 more shock, that wasn't just a normal Vulcan, this was the top of her chain of command Vulcan, so she was more quiet then normal

Lorenzo being 14 was a sullen teenager who noticed but looked a bit blase' he barely looked up though he was finding his sister's unease, amusing.

Pietro just waved and said "Hi I'm Pietro."

Sal looked at his daughter, "breathe, it's a social visit. You're not getting sent to the Breen embassy."

"I'm so sorry Admiral, I should have double checked the time, I didn't realize we would be interrupting dinner. I can come back later or call you or..." Jocelyn trailed off, not sure what best to say.

Sturnack, meanwhile, had assumed a rigid posture next to the woman. Arms clasped at the hands behind his back, the Vulcan's chest jutted forward, his face an impartial mask of impassivity. As Jocelyn fell into her own insecurities -- a trait he'd often noticed in his new paramour -- Sturnack elected to simply double down on their reason for coming, dinner be damned. "We have entered into a romantic relationship and anticipate the press will have a...what is the expression? 'Field Day?'" he asked, eyes darting between Blake and Andolini. "We wished to make you aware and work to get ahead of the oncoming fire storm from the press." So there it was. Without any sort of grace or aplomb, the Vulcan had dropped the bomb. Sturnack wondered how Andolini would take the news.

Jocelyn's mouth opened into a little 'o' of surprise as Sturnack plowed ahead, flushing a brilliant shade of red. She gave Andolini a mortified apologetic grimace already imagining the conversation the man was going to have to have with his kids about not relaying this encounter to anyone ever. The press were no strangers to getting leaks from kids who didn't think they were telling anyone anything of real interest. Her eyes turned to Sturnack next, struggling to even know which part of her was needed right now... the girlfriend who understand the social and workplace implications of dropping that bomb or the press secretary who needed to calculate the risk of their news being discovered before they could figure out how to manage it.

Second news drop of the day made Sal pause before the usual invitation to dinner. "Ok then." Was all he said, "I think we should continue this conversation in the office."

They headed through the small kitchen, where the dogs had gotten some leftovers, which were actually set down for them. Heading the steps to the basement, Sal's "office" was a finished basement which had a few plaques on the wall and some stories he had written over the years.

They took seats in the collection of chairs around a table and Sal began, "First off Congratulations. May you have many happy years."

"Thank you," Jocelyn managed before diving in. "I am truly sorry to drop this on you like this. And for putting your family in the position of needing to keep this news to themselves." Her eyes darted to Sturnack for a moment before turning back to Sal. Her heart raced, worry plain on her face. She knew that Andolini had a real sense of her credentials for the job she had, but she had no illusions about the complication of a romantic entanglement. She sighed, heart pounding, and clasped her hands together, leaning on the table in front of her. "I know it's not a small thing to field something like this even under ideal circumstances and we both know we are not looking at ideal."

"My fault," the Vulcan acknowledged, referring to his role in dropping the news bomb in front of the whole family. "My apologies for any inconvenience the situation has created," Sturnack dipped his head to Andolini. "However, Jocelyn and I anticipate a resurgence of people speculating around sexual impropriety as a means of ascending the Starfleet ladder. And, I suspect," the Fleet Admiral continued, "that will only be the beginning of it. There will be, no doubt, much, much difficulty in the days ahead. I agreed with Jocelyn that you must be made aware immediately." Without touching, Jocelyn would be bereft of any indication of the Vulcan's feelings but it was apparent that the whole situation had him more rigid than a bar of tritanium.

Sal paused for a brief moment, collecting his thoughts, "Ok, So, we have an advantage, as long as nothing breaks on it, But if we can break it first, we can control the narrative, and that is our goal." His speaking seemed to lose some affectations as he sounded more like Sturnack as he analyzed it, "The biggest thing is what sort of story we can sell, because if the wrong media gets ahold of it, we can have everything from, 'sleeping her way to the top' to 'Vulcan mind control' Last one usually in the conspiracy groups, " He had dealt with them with the Voyager return assignment, apparently there was a conspiracy that the Federation faked the entire thing to get good PR for reasons they never specified.

"So, as cold as this is, let's plan this out and we'll get the story we want out of there."

Jocelyn was quiet, listening as the two spoke. "It's not cold," she said after a moment. "It's practical." She looked at Sturnack, seeing the tense lines of his shoulders and instinctively slid her hand into his. For a moment the only thing she felt was tension roiling behind a wall of composure, but she was rapidly growing accustomed to the connection and so her own emotions soon asserted themselves, among them a calm and cool practicality. "Whatever we decide, though," she said, "we need to hold to. So as close to the truth as we can get is ideal. Anything we share that isn't true... we'll have to function as though it is at least until this is out of the public's eye." She squeezed his hand lightly as she said it hoping it would help.

"Perhaps it would help if we explained ourselves to you first, Admiral," she said with the same professional collectedness. "It's a bit too... new. I'm not sure I have enough distance to find the right threads easily."

Sal nodded, "The floor is yours." He leaned back a bit waiting to hear the story.

Sturnack subtly squeezed Jocelyn's hand back, sensing her discomfort and discombobulation through the link they shared. Believing that Vulcan dispassion would be a boon in this situation, it was he that then spoke up, addressing his commentary to Andolini. "I shall attempt to explain, though Jocelyn may wish to add her own thoughts as we go. It all began several months ago," he began, his thoughts casting back to his first week as the Commander-in-Chief of Starfleet.

"After being elevated to my position, I had to help make several key appointments within Starfleet Command," Sturnack explained. "Working with the acting Communications Director, we had to select a Press Secretary that could function well in front of the press core. There were many, many names of candidates who would do quite well in that arena. However, given previous improprieties within Starfleet Command, it was also important to me that our selected candidate be passionate about the truth and keeping Command honest."

"Jocelyn Blake," Sturnack spoke as if he weren't presently holding the woman's hand, "had proven dedication to such with her exposing article on Admiral Leyton's attempted coup. She'd been warned that getting the article out would mean potential harm to her career but she acted anyway. This caused a great deal of difficulty for her personally -- she was, as a result, sidelined into working for R&D -- but the article shook up Command and resulted in needed change. That is how her name came to be on the shortlist for Press Secretary."

"It wasn't until weeks after joining my administration," the Vulcan continued, "that I began to develop more than a deep admiration for Captain Blake's work. In working closely together, we began to establish a rapport that transcended being just workplace colleagues. We began taking walks together, getting coffee on and off the clock, as it were," Sturnack nodded, "and during those walks, we would talk about a great number of topics. Topics," he added, "that opened my eyes to the kind of person Captain Blake was. Quite naturally, I found myself wanting to spend more and more time together."

"Then the bombing of the embassy happened. And after that," Sturnack pressed on, "the first assassination attempt. I believe the shared trauma helped to further forge a connection between the two of us; a connection that continued to flower while we were sequestered away for our safety." The Vulcan arched an eyebrow, "While I'd already had certain leanings, a poor prior experience had convinced me that it would be fruitless and perhaps even harmful to reveal my desires to Captain Blake. But, sequestered as we were, it was then that my Pon Farr occurred."

"I attempted to keep my distance," Sturnack went on, "trying to avoid the Captain given the blood fever thundering in my veins. Doctor Cowell even came to visit, bringing with him medications that would reduce the need to mate...make it manageable until the crisis was over and I could return to Vulcan. However," he dipped his head again to Jocelyn, "the medications were not effective and the Captain could tell that something was amiss. To make quite a long story short in length, she was successful in getting me to explain what I was experiencing. And it was, as consenting adults, that we decided to navigate the Pon Farr together. I believe Jocelyn had her own feelings on this matter, which perhaps she can explain?"

Jocelyn found herself glancing back and forth between Sturnack and Andolini throughout the Vulcan's deadpan explanation of the sequence of events. It amazed her how he could relay the whole thing in the same tenor as if he was reading a cooking recipe or an entry from an encyclopedia. Nonetheless there had been details in there that she hadn't known, most notably when his feelings had begun, and that gave her pause.

When he finally reached the part of the story that involved Pon Farr her cheeks flushed a deep red. She knew they were going to have to be up front about that, but it didn't make it feel any less like being forced to explain to a parent what they had walked in on. As the store wound to a close she tried to wipe the flustered feeling from her face. Successful might have been a stretch, but she at least managed to compose herself well enough to share her own thoughts.

With a deliberate turn back to Andolini she added her own color to the telling. "My appreciation for Sturnack began around the same time," she said, though at first I was very firmly determined that the only thing happening was a blooming friendship. Still, I found it easy to talk to him. I was being harassed pretty persistently in the weeks leading up to the bombing. My parents as well. And the turning point, for me, was really the morning before the bombing after someone had vandalized my apartment. I hadn't slept and he came to check on me. That morning is pretty blurry in my memory. I was so tired and so scared. But Sturnack managed to help me find calm enough to move ahead in the day and later I remember thinking I shouldn't feel as strongly about that as I did."

She glanced back at Sturnack then, just briefly, as if he might give some visual cue to how he was feeling. These were things he, perhaps, hadn't known as well.

"I was the one who found him after the bombing," she continued. "And for weeks after that image haunted me. I had nightmares where he didn't make it. And with the strength of that fear I became more certain of my own feelings. I was beyond relieved when it was evident that he was going to make it. And I visited him in the hospital. I rationalized it as a work matter, but the reality was that I just wanted to see for myself. When he was finally cleared by Dr. Cowell to return to the office we resumed our walks and coffee dates. I had come to sort of thing of them that way though I wouldn't have admitted it at the time. And that's when the assassination attempt happened.

She paused, looking between the two men again, though neither seemed inclined to interrupt. "Then we were sequestered away together and... it all came to a head so to speak. You can only be around someone you're falling for in close quarters during a crisis for so long without some of that leaking through and..." Here her cheeks flushed dark again. "And when I understood what was happening to Sturnack I offered my help with the explanation of what I had been feeling. And... well... now we're here."

Sal paused and listened then he nodded, "Crisis forged new bonds, or revealed true feelings. " He still used paper for some things, with the argument that people can't hack a notepad. And he wrote some stuff down. "That's good." Then he nodded, "Ok, first things first, After Christmas day we can schedule an interview with Marina Pol. I can set that up, just don't lie to her, she's an empath, helps with her stories, play fair she can help tremendously, people love these stories.

Jocelyn nodded her agreement. She was familiar with Marina and knew that the woman used her empathic sense in her work. It was part of what made her so effective in her reporting, though there were many uncomfortable with the idea that their emotions could be read, thinking Marina would choose to use them for some self-serving purpose or another. It wasn't how Marina did things, though, and the Press Secretary was surprised she hadn't thought of the woman herself. "I agree. And we'll be open."

Sturnack gave Andolini's suggestion some thought. Vulcans were trained from a very young age to suppress their emotions and protect their own minds from intrusion. If an empath was going write a story about them, Sturnack knew he would have to loosen some of his mental barriers to allow the woman to sense what she needed to sense. While such was logical, it was not particularly palatable. Still, they knew this was going to be hard work and such was probably just the beginning. Sturnack nodded in confirmation to the idea, saying, "The interview is acceptable."

"Second," Andolini nodded and then continued, "join us for dinner, two reasons, first any questions can just call it a private get together, second, you probably could eat, and my oldest is wondering what she did to get the Commander in Chief in her living room." It was common knowledge the Admiral's daughter was a cadet at Starfleet Academy.

"If it's not an imposition then we'd be glad to stay." Jocelyn didn't give Sturnack a chance to say differently. It would be good to be around people together and besides that, Andolini's logic was sound. Better to make sure they could avoid questions.

Sturnack looked over at Jocelyn as she accepted a dinner invite on their behalf. Was it always going to be like this, he wondered? The human of the pair understanding nuances Sturnack did not and acting for their betterment, even if the Vulcan wished otherwise? Through their linked hands, Jocelyn might feel a flash of irritation at accepting the invitation without consulting him, though Sturnack himself kept his face, as ever, an impartial mask. "Dinner it is, then," the Vulcan nodded, though did not relish the idea of expending energy on small talk with people he did not know.

Without waiting for Andolini, Sturnack rose once again, his hand falling away from Jocelyn's. His feet carried him to the stairs, where the Vulcan began to slowly ascend, ultimately coming out on the floor above. He held the door open, waiting for the other two to make their own ascent while surveying the lodgings around him.

Slender shoulders bunched in a shrug as Jocelyn made eye contact with Andolini. Her expression, if it were any barometer for how she felt, suggested that there wasn't much helping the Vulcan-ness of the CinC. She had picked up the flash of irritation and it had surprised her--a reminder of just how new this romantic entanglement was along with the reality that both of them came from vastly different backgrounds.

"Guess we should follow him," she said, the statement coming out as more of a question as she stood.

Sal chuckled, "I guess so."

]]>
Sun, 05 Jun 2022 15:20:44 +0000
Holidays and Family https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/82 https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/82
Mission - Episode 3: Conflicts of Interest
Location - Thul Quarters
Timeline - Mission Day 1 at 0800

Rune watched his family as he sat in his chair with a steaming hot chocolate, he wished his parents could see his sons grow up but they were gone. He sipped at his drink slowly after blowing on the surface several times. As the hot chocolate went down, somewhat cooler than before, Rune smiled at his sons as they went about organising their Christmas presents. Some even required assembly which they tended to.

Vestar was on his own chair but between their sons, a trash bag in hand. Occasionally their sons would throw the rubbish into the bag. It had become a game to them several years ago, though the majority of the rubbish had already been taken out since it was Boxing Day.

Yesterday was full of laughs, tears for absent family members and excitement for gifts. Even though both Betazoids and Trills didn't have such a holiday, some of their own cultural events had gift giving as part of the proceedings. Rune blamed the Humans for this, though enjoyed it nonetheless.

The Chalvana situation came back into mind a moment after Tomnas, Kirk and Vestar all left to sort out where these new things were to go in their rooms or to pack them away, Rune didn't know for his attention went to working out why the Romulans wanted to destroy the Chalvana system.

Did the Chalvanans wrong the Star Empire somehow? Or are the Romulans just mad with the need to cause the Federation trouble? Probably the latter since they had been enemies for a long time.

He was glad that Interstellar Aid had sent USS Hope, USS Mercy and USS Peace and the USS Martin Luther was there monitoring the Chalvana star. Nothing new has happened yet since the first flare so there wasn't much going on except the Aid ships assisting Chalvana III's population, and if anything did happen the Martin Luther would inform Command.

He did have the inclination to send additional ships, just in case, though it would take time for them to get there. Though most were already on other assignments that couldn't be rescheduled. Rune did leave orders that should the Martin Luther's captain declare emergency that at least 2 closest ships would be directed to Chalvana.

Lost in his thoughts he failed to notice Vestar perch on the armrest and the hand in his hair stroking softly. "Ro," Vestar said firmly.

Nearly spilling his drink Rune reacted but saved the beverage. "Hi. Sorry," he replied.

"No need," Vestar stated with a smile as they made eye contact. "Thank you for a wonderful Christmas, the boys are happy and I'm happy."

Rune could tell that Vestar was avoiding talk about Strategic Command business, of course Rune didn't reveal anything classified but the rest however filtered was fair game. He smiled back. "You are welcome Imzadi, I'm glad it is over and I too am happy."

"We better start preparing for the next holiday." Vestar said, though he sighed.

Rune sighed at the same time and the two laughed.]]>
Tue, 24 May 2022 05:27:48 +0000
A Meeting Changing Everything https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/76 https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/76
Mission - Episode 3: Conflicts of Interest
Location - Deputy Intelligence Director's Office, Starfleet Command
Timeline - Mission Day 2 at 0945

[Deputy Intelligence Director's Office]
[Starfleet Command Complex]
[MD 2: 0945 Hours]


Tenai had come into the office to the usual caseload, but since the death of the Director he had been working double time. The reports coming in were highly classified yet the branch directors had been just placing them on the desk. Tenai sighed and sat down behind his desk looking out the window behind him at the beautiful skyline, before turning to begin his reports.

He was about to start when he heard the chirp from his PADD, upon looking it was from the Commander In Chiefs aide-de-camp. It was asking him to come to the CinC’s office. He immediately got up and headed for the office. He was already behind and now his reports were not important at the current time.

After a small walk he arrived at the office entrance and sighed making sure his uniform was straight. He entered the room smiling.

“Hello I am here to see the Commander in Chief per a request.” He said to the aide sitting at the desk.

"Hello indeed," came back a cheerful voice. "Commander Marlena Glenn, sir: Fleet Admiral Sturnack's aide-de-camp. Thanks so much for coming up on short notice," she said, raising up from her desk -- stationed outside the double glass door's of the CinC's office -- and extending her hand in greeting. "The Admiral asked me to call you up to discuss the future of your department. We were all very saddened by Admiral Ris' passing. I'm sorry," she nodded, knowing Dexu had worked with the man for a number of years.

Tenai frowned slightly “I had tried not to think about it, but thank you. In a way it is still a shock to me. I do appreciate that condolences though.” He said with a slight smile. His times in the CinC’s office was rare because the Director usually was present. He had met the CinC once or twice so he kind of knew what to expect.

"Of course," Marlena nodded. "Well, the CinC was just finishing up a call a few minutes ago. Let me poke my head in and see if he's ready for you?" With a smile, she turned, gently opening one side of the double doors and sliding into the room beyond. She was gone for several long moments before her head popped out of the doors again, a waving hand accompanying her sudden reappearance. "Come on in, Admiral. He'll see you now." And with that, the doors swung all the way open to admit Dexu.

As the Admiral entered, the room opened up before him. There was a central, carpeted sitting area with a coffee table and several chintz arm chairs surrounding it. At the back -- set against the dramatic San Franciscan skyline visible through a room-spanning picture window -- was the CinC's desk, fashioned out of old mahogany that, despite being hundreds of years old, looked almost brand new. It was behind this desk that Sturnack sat, poking at a PADD with a stylus.

As Marlena led Dexu into the room, the Fleet Admiral laid down the PADD and rose, extending a hand in the human style of greeting as he came around his desk. "Commodore Dexu," Sturnack intoned. "Thank you for coming. I realize the notice is short but I wanted to speak with you on a rather urgent matter. Please," he gestured to one of the arm chairs, taking one for himself, "have a seat. Can Marlena get you anything to drink? I'll have a Tarkalean tea, please," he nodded to his adjutant.

"No problem, sir," Marlena smiled softly before looking back to Dexu expectantly.

Tenai entered the office and professionally shook the hand of the CinC before having a seat. “It is understandable with everything that has occurred, Sir! I am here to help in whatever way is possible.” He looked at the aide “I will take a raktajino please.” He said with a smile before looking back at the Fleet Admiral.

"Coffee, tea, or me," Marlena smirked, harkening back to a phrase once used by Airline stewards. With that, she was away, heading out into the anteroom to procure the requested beverages.

"Your desire to help is appreciated, Commodore," Sturnack said from his chair, watching his aide go before eyeing the Joined Trill in front of him. "Exactly because things are so busy, I will hasten to the point. As you know, with Director Ris' passing, your department has been without a Director. And while you've done your diligence filling in, we need operational consistency going into the foreseeable future. In short, it's time we named a new Director," he pronounced, not giving any indication as to who, exactly, that would be.

Tenai nodded “It has been some work, but I have tried to run the department as best I could. With years in Intelligence I have been behind the dissemination of information for a long time and after working with Ris, I think I have gotten more familiar with the policies.” He said before shifting slightly “However I will do my best to help the new Director in any capacity or fashion. I just want to make sure we stay successful.” He concluded.

"An admirable aim," Sturnack nodded, body rigid as he sat in his chair, deigning not to lean back against its soft backing. "However, I believe you misunderstand my preamble, Commodore. The new Director of Starfleet Intelligence will be you -- assuming you wish to tackle the role with some permanency. The position would, of course, dictate a promotion to the Admiralty. You would be elevated to the rank of Rear Admiral, with all of the privileges and expectations that come with such." The Vulcan let this hang in the air for a few moments, understanding the need to process what was happening.

It was, at that time, that Marlena returned. She placed the Tarkalean tea down in front of the CinC and then set the raktajino in front of Dexu. "Hope you enjoy," she smiled demurely at the Commodore, unaware of what she'd just walked back in on. Turning to Sturnack, she said, "You've got the thing in ten minutes, sir. Just a friendly reminder."

"Thank you, Commander," Sturnack nodded back to his aide-de-camp. As Marlena moved to leave -- once again disappearing through the double doors -- the Vulcan turned back to the Trill. "What is your answer, Commodore?" he asked, steepling his fingers out in front of him, hands resting on his lap. His look was one of expectancy.

Tenai blinked twice making sure it wasn't a dream. He knew he had worked hard for eight years but was never sure he would be given the position of Director. 'It's ironic Tenai I was the contract killer, yet still, you are part of a world of dark secrets.' Tenai heard Cahjan's voice ring in his ears, before the return of the aide. He snapped back to his reality brushing off Cahjan's voice.

He smiled as he grabbed his raktajino and took a sip feeling the warmth course down his throat. As the aide departed the Admiral's expectations could be seen from the way he looked at Tenai. Tenai straightened "I can say you surprised me, though I know I have done the job as Acting Director I figured someone would be more qualified. That being said I would be honored to become the new Director." He smiled slightly before relaxing again in the seat.

"Your performance in Admiral Ris' stead has been exemplary," Sturnack nodded slowly. "The department would benefit from your continued oversight. I am gratified to hear you will accept the position." From somewhere, the CinC suddenly produced a small black box lined in velvet. It clicked as it was opened, revealing the appropriate pips for Dexu's new rank. Sliding the box across the coffee table, it was then that Sturnack leaned back more comfortably in his chair. "There's a lot of work ahead of you. If you need anything from my office, we are here."

Tenai grabbed the box and affixed the new pips to his collar. He smiled slightly “I understand and without an Assistant Director I will be busy. I’ll make sure and get any officers to start working towards the main importance.” He stopped for a moment before leaning back and starting again “What is needed from the Intelligence Department that is of the highest priority?” He asked trying to see what he needed to do.

"The interrogation of the would-be assassin is, perhaps," Sturnack answered, "at the top of your priority list. Homeworld Security is also vying to take charge of the investigation but it will, no doubt, yield the best results if both departments work together on this. We need to identify why the assassin tried to assassinate either Captain Blake or myself: we still do not know the planned target of the attack. And beyond that," the Vulcan continued, "we need to ascertain whether the assassination attempt is related at all to the bombing of the Romulan embassy. As I said, much to do. You are empowered, of course, to find and elevate someone to be your new assistant Director."

Tenai had become highly skilled at taking notes in his head and this situation was no different. He took the information the Vulcan gave him and made sure to compartmentalize it. He thought before speaking as per normal “I can start with my analyst looking over the information we have and see if there is anything that was missed.” He paused for a moment “Spearheading things with homeland seems like the best option and though sometimes intelligence is best when no one else joins in this case I feel it’s best.” He took another sip of his drink “I will also have a specialist look into the Romulan implications here. As to my assistant…I truly have no idea of who could take the place at this time.”

"It sounds like you are charting the proper course," Sturnack nodded, reaching than for his tea and taking a measured sip. "As for your Deputy, I hope that your search for a second in command proves fruitful. I know that is no easy task," he said, thinking of his own Deputy and the rather disturbing meeting they'd had only an hour prior. "Should you require anything else from my office, please do not hesitate to contact Commander Glenn. She will coordinate with you as needed. Was there anything else, Rear Admiral?" the Vulcan used the man's new rank, an eyebrow arching upward.

Tenai smiled and shook his head "That will be all, Sir, but if you need anything from Intelligence don't hesitate to contact me. I will be getting you any reports as soon as I know more. Have a good day, Sir!"

He got up smiled and headed out of the office making sure to acknowledge the aide as he left. This meeting changed things and though he never expected it that didn't change the fact of how honored he was.

=/\= A joint post by... =/\=

Rear Admiral Tenai Dexu
Director, Starfleet Intelligence
Starfleet Command

and

Fleet Admiral Sturnack
Commander in Chief
Starfleet Command]]>
Sun, 22 May 2022 19:56:17 +0000
Normal Is Relative https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/49 https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/49
Mission - Episode 2: 18th and Constitution
Location - Whitford's Office
Timeline - Mission Day 3 at 1000

Things were far from normal at Starfleet Command these days. But then, what was normal? Jen was fond of reminding him that "normal is relative", and Richard understood what she meant by that. And yet, he couldn't help but to feel that things were definitely not anywhere resembling normal now. And yet, some of the normal things that were done prior to this incident still needed to be done. Like reporting.

It was for this reason that Richard found himself walking the corridors of Starfleet Command, heading for Admiral Whitford's office. That thought brought him to why these reports were being given to Whitford instead of Sturnack, and he was once more reminded of how not normal things were here these days. And it would likely be some time before they were normal again.

Reaching the office, he took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. This reporting did not make him uneasy; he was just taking that moment to clear his mind and once more present the facade of the unflappable Starfleet Admiral. Then he keyed the door chime and awaited permission to enter.

"Come on in," the warm voice of Commander Marlena Glenn could be heard as the door slid open to reveal the waiting area outside of the CinC's office. "You can go on through Admiral. He's expecting you." Glenn indicated a door just beyond her own desk, a glance through confirming what she had said.

"And no one can tell me why the simple act of accounting for all attendees of this shit show has not yet been completed?" the raised voice of Rear Admiral Joshua Whitford could be heard through the now open door. "I expect those officers accounted for yesterday. No, not yesterday, a week ago."

A quiet voice could be heard responding though it wasn't clear what was said, however, the response was clearly not to the Admiral's liking. "I know the incident was only three days ago. I was there for heaven's sake. Just get me my body count."

Richard smiled at the lady Commander, though he found himself wondering if that look shouldn't have contained sympathy. She had likely been hearing this for some time. But ultimately, it wasn't for him to react to, so he merely gave her the smile and a quiet, "Thank you," before moving past her desk and keying the door open -- she had said go on in. Entering, he moved far enough in to allow the door to close once more, but no farther. There, he waited patiently for the Admiral to finish his call.

The voice on the viewscreen came into clarity as the new arrival entered the space. "... our best sir," the Bolian on the screen was saying, expression pained. "This is still an evolving crime scene..."

The man behind the CinC's desk actually growled. "I've got another meeting. Get the job done," he ground out, smacking the console to close the channel before the man on the other line could answer. He turned, noticing Brannigan then and his expression shifted to something not dissimilar to an oily attempt at disarming. "Admiral Brannigan," Whitford quipped, hands spreading to either side. "Welcome. Shame you had to hear that. Sometimes folks need a bit of a fire lit to get the obvious done around here."

Richard noted the expression but let it go as the man was obviously stressed out -- and why wouldn't he be given the situation they all found themselves in -- and trying not to take it out on Richard. Instead, therefore, he simply addressed the words themselves. "I think that's likely the case in most large organizations, sir," he responded with a smile, trying to ease the tension in the room if only a tiny bit and if only for a moment. "If I'm interrupting, I can come back," he offered.

"Nah, you're fine," Whitford said, shaking his head. "Thanks for understanding." With a nod, he rose from the CinC's desk and made his way around it, moving instead to take a seat in one of the plush armchairs in the sitting area. The Starfleet Command seal sprawled beneath his outstretched legs, which he crossed to rest his feet on the carpet. "Have a seat, Admiral," he half offered, half ordered, gesturing to another of the chairs.

A sound from the side drew Whitford's attention away from Brannigan for a moment. It seemed Commander Glenn had opened the office door and was poking her head in, an expectant look on her face. "I'll have one of those green water bottles Chambers is always going on about. Admiral? Anything for you?" he asked, looking at Brannigan.

Richard had moved to another of the very comfortable-looking chairs and started to sit when he noticed Whitford's attention drift to the door. Turning, he noted the commander's presence and smiled kindly at her. At Whitford's question about whether he would like anything or not, Richard became contemplative for a second. "Chai Tea, please? Thank you."

"A water and a chai tea," Marlena nodded, flashing Brannigan a smile. "Can do," she said, withdrawing out of the office and letting the door close behind her.

"So," Whitford began again, lifting one leg to rest on the opposite knee, "How are you settling in? Got enough PADDs?" It was a joke, clearly -- the amount of PADDs at SFC could probably fill a shuttle bay -- but it was Whitford's way of trying to put the Admiral at ease.

Richard had offered a return smile to Marlena then chuckled softly at Whitford's joke. "More than enough, thank you. In fact, I think they breed when we aren't looking," he jested in return.

"You know," Whitford smirked back, "I think you may be right. But all joking aside, tell me about your onboarding. Getting up to speed well enough?" It was clear the Admiral wanted details on how Brannigan was diving into his department and getting everything straightened out. The look from Whitford wasn't hard, per se, but it did invite Brannigan to be forthcoming.

Richard thought about how best to answer Whitford's question, simply rolling with the subject change effortlessly. "Well, the person before me had things pretty well in hand and kept good notes, but there is still a lot of reading for me to do in order to be completely up to speed on what he had in the works," he admitted. He could see many nights of reading long into the night in his immediate future, and that was to say nothing of the situation which had exploded for all of Starfleet Command. He was sure that even his department would be involved at some point.

"I do have a question for you though, Sir?" he continued. "Starfleet has a lot of discarded projects that were never fully realized, and I feel that some of them might be worth giving a second look. I'd like permission to create a sub-division under R&D for this. Obviously, the current situation takes precedence, but I thought it worth bringing up." If permitted, he even had a name for it already. Special Projects.

At Brannigan's request, Whitford merely shrugged. "I sincerely doubt Fleet Admiral Sturnack would have an issue with that. Assuming, like you said," the man nodded, "that higher priority tasks are getting the lion's share of your focus. Knock yourself out," he half-grinned before Marlena signaled him from the door. He waved to signal his understanding and then turned back to Brannigan. "I'm afraid I've got to run to another meeting. Filling in for the Fleet Admiral has really been keeping me on my toes." Rising to a standing position, he held out his hand once again. "Congratulations on your new position. If you need anything, reach out to Commander Glenn," he jutted his chin to indicate Marlena, "and we'll get you sorted."

Richard was not the type who needed to be told twice. Standing with Whitford, he took the offered hand and gave it a firm shake. Thank you again, Admiral," he responded to the congratulations. To the rest, he added, "I'll be sure to remember that, sir." And with that, he turned and left the other admiral to his meetings, giving the beautiful Ms. Glenn a warm smile as he passed her. Richard had his own work to get back to as well, after all.

=/\= A joint-post by... =/\=

Rear Admiral Richard Brannigan
Director, Starfleet Research and Development
Starfleet Command

and

Rear Admiral Joshua Whitford
Deputy Commander-in-Chief
Starfleet Command]]>
Sat, 21 May 2022 22:08:39 +0000
Waiting Up https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/77 https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/77
Mission - Episode 2: 18th and Constitution
Location - Starfleet Command Complex
Timeline - Mission Day 29 at 1700

[SFC Complex]
[MD 29: 1700 Hours]


Sturnack led the way into the building, lowering the umbrella he'd been carrying and tying it off with its velcro strap. As the Vulcan moved into the lobby proper, he saw that Lieutenant Robert Rendra -- the seemingly ever-present security officer known to all as "Just Bob" -- was waiting at the security station. With it being Christmas Day, foot traffic was almost non-existent and the man looked quite happy for company as Sturnack -- followed closely by Jocelyn Blake -- approached, nodding to the man even as the Fleet Admiral stepped through the security scanning suite.

"You're good, sir," Bob said. Watching Jocelyn pass through, he nodded to her as well. "You too, ma'am. Happy holidays," he said warmly, offering a wave as the pair slid past him.

"And you," Sturnack intoned, moving to the bank of turbolifts inset into the lobby's far wall. Depressing the call button, he waited in silence for the lift to arrive and open, not looking at Jocelyn at all. It was as if a wall had sprung up between them since leaving The Fortress and beaming directly to the Starfleet Command Complex. When the lift opened, however, Sturnack stepped inside and gently took Jocelyn's hand as the doors slid closed, providing visual cover. Through the telepathic touch, the woman would no doubt be able to feel his concern that others might spy their closeness before they were ready to announce their new relationship. "CinC's office," he intoned, feeling the lift begin to move beneath them.

Jocelyn's relief as she took his hand was palpable. She knew it would be different... difficult even... to function as though nothing had changed between them, and yet a part of her wanted to shout about the whole thing. The concern flowing through his touch tamped down the desire, though, and she sighed. "I know..." she said quietly, answering his unspoken concern. "This is why I think we need to go see Admiral Andolini first."

"Your instincts are, no doubt, correct," the Vulcan nodded slowly. "However, we both agreed that checking into the office first was necessary. While it may be Christmas Day, the business of Starfleet Command doesn't come to a halt. We will be...in and out," he promised, "before you know it. And then we will head directly to Admiral Andolini's residence, as you've suggested."

It was then that the lift came to a halt, the doors swishing open and revealing a mostly darkened anteroom, devoid of life. Though hands had dropped as the door opened, Sturnack took the opportunity of a deserted lobby to again take Jocelyn's hand, leading her out of the lift. Ahead -- with Marlena off for the holiday -- there was no one to greet them at the aide-de-camp's desk as they passed by, the Vulcan extending his other hand to open the glass door into his office. As the pair entered, the rainy skyline of San Francisco effused light into the room. And there, sitting in a stuffed chintz arm chair, was Commander Marlena Glenn, smiling wide.

"Hey Sturn," she beamed, eyes meeting his. "Welcome back! Heard you were coming to check in and figured I'd surprise ya." But then -- as something looked visually discordant -- the Commander's eyes traced down the Vulcan's shoulder and arm, spying clasped hands and the form of Jocelyn Blake behind the Admiral. "Uh..." Marlena's eyes went wide, her mouth forming something between an O shape and the lopsided facade of a stroke victim. "What the...I mean..." Clearly, her mind had just broken a little. "Are you two? Uh..." It was as if the gears in her brain had gotten stuck.

The absolute flare of alarm that shot through Jocelyn must have been felt across their link, but even as it was she slipped her hand out of Sturnack's, cheeks flushing a dark pink. This was exactly the sort of thing she was worried about, though thankfully they were being caught by someone they could trust. Her eyes went form Marlena to Sturnack and back again, clearly not sure if she should answer or if he meant to do so. As the moment stretched, though, she found herself itching to fix the confusion and finally, stepping up next to him and slipping her hand back into his she made herself meet the other woman's gaze and nodded. "Yeah..." she said, quietly. "We are."

Sturnack had, indeed, felt the tsunami of emotion coming off of Jocelyn. An unexpected consequence of the telepathic touch link was that, like his own emotions, the Vulcan had to compartmentalize what he felt from Jocelyn and will it away, so as not to break his own emotional impasse. The intense wash of feelings were in the process of being filed away until the touch ceased, only to be resumed a few moments later, the link this time flavored with Jocelyn's resilience and a desire to be bold. The Vulcan found he appreciated Jocelyn's attitude and nodded himself. "We have coupled, yes," he added on.

"Well it's about good and damn time," Marlena's brain finally unfroze, a blazing smile popping across her face. "I guess that answers the whole 'Will they? Won't they?' thing," she smirked, nimbly crossing one leg over another. "I'm glad I was waiting up for you, Sturn. Or I'm guessing you wouldn't have told me quite yet," Marlena laughed lightly. "So first things first, I'm intensely happy for you both. As much fun as it's been watching you dance around each other -- some of which was at my doing, by the way," she grinned, "it's nice to see you both finally acknowledge things. Second, who made the first move? I have to know."

"He did," Jocelyn said quickly. It hadn't even been 24 hours yet and the memory of his finger tracing hers as he accepted a cup of cocoa from her flared to the forefront of her mind making her flush again, this time with a more physical awareness than alarm. She squeezed his hand for a moment then let it go. "I should poke my head into my office, though... before we can go... but, Marlena, coffee date? Soon?" she asked, knowing the woman was going to want to know more and not knowing if the openness that could easily take place between the two women would be as easy if Sturnack was in the room. "I'm sure Sturnack can catch you up on the important details." Eyes quickly darting from Sturnack to Marlena and then back again she popped up onto her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "I'll be back in 15 minutes," she said quietly, and then turned and made her way out of the office leaving the two alone.

Sturnack allowed the pressing of lips to his cheek and nodded softly. "I will see you then, Jocelyn," he said, knowing they'd only planned a short stopover at the office: time was of the essence and, thusly, he moved across the room to sit at his desk even as Marlena held eye contact with Jocelyn. It seemed a coffee meetup was a forgone conclusion and he knew, based on years of experience with Marlena, that he and Jocelyn would be the big topic of conversation when it happened.

"That's really all you're going to give me?" Marlena mock-chided as Jocelyn made to leave. "This one," she jutted a thumb to Sturnack, "isn't going to tell me anything. But alright, it can wait," she smiled as Jocelyn exited the room, leaving her alone with the Vulcan. Rising from her chair, she shook her head and said, "You? Making the first move? I'm proud of you, tiger," Marlena smirked heavily, picking up a stack of PADDs that'd been sitting on the coffee table in front of her chair.

"Marlena..." Sturnack lightly implored.

"Shut up?" she beamed back.

"I would never say such a thing. However," the Vulcan intoned, "I have very limited time to catch up before Jocelyn and I must visit Admiral Andolini at his home. He will need to be made aware of this new...development," he chose the word with precision.

"Yeah I bet," Marlena nodded. "They already thought she slept her way to her position. This is going to seal that particular deal, I imagine," she sighed softly, handing the stack of PADDs over.

"I do not understand why the galaxy at large thrives on such speculation," Sturnack said, taking the PADDs and beginning to sort through them one-by-one. "She was appointed to her position long before any inklings of this new coupling were evident."

"Sharks, Sturnack. They smell blood for miles away. And right now?" Marlena huffed, arms crossed. "You're both gushing blood in the water. But I'm sure Admiral Andolini and his press contacts will be able to help. Maybe leak it to the right outlet to soften the blow? Then give an interview to one of the big headliner news sources: 'Sturnack and Blake: Starcrossed Lovers.' That sort of thing. Get ahead of it, you know?"

"I am sure," Sturnack reviewed a PADD as he spoke, "that such a plan is already on Jocelyn's mind. Though I wish such acrobatics were not necessary," the Vulcan lamented.

"Welcome to the Milky Way Galaxy, Admiral," Marlena chuckled. "Alright, give me that. You're going too slow and you have places to be," she said, stealing the PADD he was reading. "And I'll take these, too," she said, grabbing the rest of the stack back.

Over the next fifteen minutes, Marlena reviewed the contents of each PADD with the Fleet Admiral, talking through salient points and taking down the necessary action items that would be needed from the various Directors within Starfleet Command. She had a list of her own follow up actions, though none of those items were expressly needed today given the holiday. Sturnack had suggested she return home and enjoy the time with her family, which Marlena wholeheartedly agreed to do. Before she left, though, the aide-de-camp had one last joke for Sturnack.

"Did you want a kiss on the cheek, sir? You know, just before I go..." she narrowed her eyes in a mock glare.

"Marlena..." Sturnack implored again.

"Shut up, got it," she laughed musically. "Alright, you two love birds have a good meeting. Hope you have a good gift to bring the Admiral. Dropping a bomb like this on Christmas? Ooof," Marlena sighed. "Anyway, if you need anything, I'm only a comm call away. See you tomorrow, sir," she nodded. And with that, she slipped out into the anteroom beyond and called the turbolift.

As Marlena left, Sturnack looked up at the slowly closing glass doors. Through their opening, he spied the woman entering the lift and disappearing behind the swishing double doors. The Vulcan reflected for a few moments on her reaction, deciding that it had, indeed, been favorable. However, he knew that not all would be happy about this news when it broke wide. While Andolini would be the first of the Admiralty to tell, Sturnack knew the second stop had to be his Deputy Commander in Chief. As such, he picked up a PADD and added a meeting to the calendar they both shared. Tomorrow's meeting would be most uncomfortable, Sturnack was sure, but it had to happen.

The doors to his office swung open again, Jocelyn having returned from checking into her own office. "Greetings," he offered, lowering the PADD and standing. "I was just scheduling a meeting with Admiral Whitford. I do not relish the idea of bringing him up to speed tomorrow. However, it is unavoidable, I believe."

Jocelyn blanched visibly. No physical contact was necessary, even for a Vulcan, to see the intensity of discomfort that rolled off of the woman. Whitford had disliked her from the start and now... now he'd be downright volatile. Still, he was right, he was going to need to be next. "How... do you want to handle things... after we visit Admiral Andolini," she asked, coming around his desk to stand next to him. She'd been thinking about this for a sizeable chunk of the day. It seemed like such a simple thing. If they were a normal couple they'd both go home. But they weren't. They'd spent the last week in the same cabin, and before that Jocelyn had been sleeping at Jordan's most nights. She wasn't sure what to think, so she did the only thing that seemed natural. "You're welcome to come back to my place... if you want... I mean."

Sturnack gave this some thought. He'd not expressly imagined that they would be returning to one of their homes or the other: in fact, he'd envisioned both of them returning to their domiciles separately. But it was clear that Jocelyn intended them to remain together -- perhaps the tenuous nature of their very new coupling was pulling at her anxieties? The Vulcan drew on logic to attempt to understand the desire and its meaning became clear: Jocelyn was caught up in a lot of emotions -- especially around how all of this impacted their work -- and would feel more comfortable if they stayed together for the evening.

"It is good that my pajamas are already packed," Sturnack nodded. "Your place will be sufficient...assuming there is room enough for me?" Moving forward then, the Vulcan took her hand once again and said, "We should be getting the the Admiral's. It is time to begin the process we have been strategizing around." And with that, he led the woman back into the outer office and into the turbolift, knowing they would need to go back to being covert...at least until they were out of the public eye.

=/\= A joint post by... =/\=

Fleet Admiral Sturnack
Commander in Chief
Starfleet Command

and

Captain Jocelyn Blake
Press Secretary
Starfleet Command]]>
Fri, 13 May 2022 20:13:17 +0000
"Past Becomes Prologue" (Backpost) https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/75 https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/75
Mission - Episode 2: 18th and Constitution
Location - Commodore Karyn Dallas' Home, San Francisco, CA; Starfleet Medical Headquarters, Starfleet Command, San Francisco, CA
Timeline - Mission Day 1 at 0730

The air inside the auditorium was stifling.

It might've been cooler in the dark space were it not for the presence of 40 to 50 other ambassadors of various sizes and species sitting at tables that were too close for her comfort.

To make matters worse, the tables were arranged in a rectangular fashion so that she had no choice but to look at the person directly across from her in her own delegation or at the person at the podium at the front of the room. She could see the hot lights were only trained on the speaker at the front of the stage, but the heat they emitted enveloped everyone in the room like a sauna. On the outside, Karyn Dallas felt as though she were burning up, but strangely, on the inside, she felt as though she were numb.

For the past two days, she and the rest of her team had alternated between terror and frustration, the words of the ransom note playing over and over in all of their minds. When they weren’t in the stifling auditorium putting up what they hoped was a convincing façade, they were searching for evidence to save Captain Price. With limited time and resources, they’d failed thus far, and everyone knew time was running out. The (now waning) hope was that one of the other ambassadors would slip up somehow and reveal their complicity in the kidnapping of the captain before it was too late.

If that wasn't going to happen, the next best (albeit temporary thing) was that they didn't have to make a decision right now and could almost convince themselves that maybe the Yridian ambassador hadn't actually slipped her a ransom note after all… that maybe it never actually happened and when her turn came to speak on behalf of the Federation's position concerning the trade route, she could actually express her support as planned. Maybe the worst thing that was going to happen was that they would lose a few pounds of water weight sweating in their dress uniforms. She knew better, of course, but hope was eternal.

And then of course, it happened. On the third day and into the sixth hour since their nightmare began, her name was called and she was directed to come to the podium.

Karyn forced herself to meet the eyes of her fellow counselors. They were counting on her to act, to be their leader. Though they all supported her without question, they understood that this decision was hers and hers alone. Good or bad, she would be held accountable for the consequences, and Dallas was determined not to show any fear. It would be a disservice to her many years crafting her impassive counselor’s mask if she showed anything less.

She wasn't ready and she had no idea what she was going to say, but she knew time was up. As she took one last sip of the remaining water in her cup, just after taking a moment to swirl the remaining liquid over the melting ice cubes, she kept her eyes forward and no longer spared her team a second glance. Her game face was on now, and for once, she found herself grateful she was using her grav chair. It would take some time to travel up the ramp from backstage that would lead her to the white-hot spotlight.

As she maneuvered her chair slowly up the ramp and felt all eyes upon her, she forced herself to slow her breathing. Now that she was at the top of the ramp and center stage, she felt an incredible jolt of adrenaline even stronger than the one she had experienced when she had been first given the note. Refusing to close her eyes, she continued to keep her breathing steady, not even noticing when someone lowered the microphone to better accommodate her height or lack thereof.

She began to speak, but her own brain could only register sound, not substance. She was truly on autopilot, her heart in control. It was only after she noticed people angrily jumping from their seats and shouting in her direction while others uttered gasps of surprise that she realized what she had done: she had denounced the trade route as the ransom note had demanded, and in doing so, she had violated her orders and her oath. That was what she knew she had done, but the only thing Karyn Dallas cared about in that moment was whether she had actually saved her Captain.

If she had continued speaking, it would be hard to say. No one and nothing could be heard over the din, and though Karyn searched the audience frantically for her people or any sign that she had done the right thing, she just kept getting more and more dizzy until she was startled by the crack of a gunshot...

... and promptly found herself in an unfamiliar bed, the buzz of the chronometer alerting her it was time to get up. Blinking away the bright light and panting heavily, at first Karyn didn't know what was going on or where she was, and her hand traveled instinctively down to her abdomen, as if she were checking for bullet holes, which alone did not make any sense.

"You're getting some variety, I see," the lilting British tone of her personal assistant, Julia Monsoon answered, gesturing to her charge’s abdomen.

Everyone knew Captain Robert Edward Lee Price had been shot in the back by Klingon weaponry, not in the stomach by an old-fashioned projectile. Karyn knew this particularly, as for at least three weeks after the incident, that was all she dreamt.

Despite the adrenaline still coursing through her and the panic and sadness she felt, bangs still plastered to her in sweat along with her pajamas, Karyn managed a wry smile. "Yeah, well, I've got to keep it interesting for you, don't I?"

She was met with nothing more than a small chuckle before the two women got on with their day. Julia eased her out of bed and helped her into her grav chair, washing her face and dressing her in her uniform, pinning her hair in the standard up do.

Monsoon had been with Karyn her entire Starfleet career, to include the Academy. The bond they shared was as unbreakable as it was unsurprising and perhaps ordinary. Julia knew Karyn had violated her orders in the hopes of saving her Captain's life, and although he had been shot anyway and suffered paralysis that put him in his own grav-chair, the Brit knew Karyn had done what she believed to be right. On good days, Dallas allowed herself to be reminded of this, and on bad days, sometimes the entirety of the good Monsoon could do was wash her friend's face in companionable silence.

Julia decided she would give her friend and charge time to brood through breakfast. That was all, she'd decided, the future deputy chief of Starfleet Medical, Chief of the Starfleet Counseling Division, could be spared.

Such was their bond that Julia understood how conflicted Karyn felt without Karyn uttering many words. To be given such an honor after what she had been through would be perplexing, to be charitable. Was it a good thing to be given a promotion after almost getting your previous superior killed? Or was it just a socially acceptable way to keep her out of the way so she couldn't get anyone else killed?

Monsoon knew better than to engage her charge in such arguments, particularly on her first day in the new job. Besides, they had many such discussions before, and Julia knew better than to continue to argue with someone who was determined to dig themselves into a deeper and deeper hole.

No, Karyn was going to have to heal from this and find her way on her own.

So, when it was about the time for them both to leave the comfort of the apartment they had been graciously assigned, Julia said the one thing she knew would make Karyn smile. "Buck up, Buttercup. It's time to get to work."

***

By the time she made it into the Starfleet Medical building, Karyn had shoved her old demons to the back of her mind. Lord knew, there were plenty of current demons to confront in the wake of the bombing not so long ago.

If there was one thing Karyn could be counted on, it was to focus on helping people, even when it wasn't clear what choice would allow her to do the most good.

By the time she approached the reception desk, her game face was back on. "Karyn Dallas to see the Director, please."

]]>
Tue, 10 May 2022 17:24:02 +0000
Shaping the message. https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/73 https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/73
Mission - Episode 2: 18th and Constitution
Location - Starfleet Communications office
Timeline - Mission Day 27 at 0900

It had been a couple of days since the incident, when Sal got home, Connie was angrier that he didn’t tell her that the ‘incident’ he had described turned out to be an actual attack with casualties. It took a stop at Claudios for their pastry bundle, which the proprietor had nicknamed the “Sal’s in trouble special” When he heard what it was for, it included extra cannoli with pistachios, her favorite.

In front of his office, which had a nice view of the bay area, it was designed for media appearances; a nice view went a lot to project the appearance of competence.

When he stopped at the front desk, there was a new person seated in the yeoman’s seat.

“Where’s Hobson?”

“They transferred him to 5th fleet. I’m your new yeoman Samantha Traynor.” She handed him a padd, “List of calls, top of the list is Mrs Andolini, Then apparently a Cadet Andolini, related I presume?”

“My daughter.” Sal looked over, “Looks like everyone wants an opinion.”

“Quite sir, also Leftenant Hoover is on his way for a meeting to break up the press.”

“Thank you Chief Traynor. “ With that Sal headed in to his office, got his usual coffee from the machine and started sorting messages.

As if on cue, Jordan Hoover made his appearance, striding up to the yeoman's desk as the door to Admiral Andolini's office closed behind him. "Lieutenant Hoover for Admiral Andolini," he said with a smile to the woman. He'd spent a lot of time working closely with the Admiral since the incident at 18th and Constitution and had grown used to Hobson's friendly face.

Traynor stood up, "Good morning sir." She made a note on the desk application, "the Admiral is expecting you."

"Thank you Chief," he said with a nod of appreciation. He took a few steps toward the door before pausing. "Hobson?" he asked, with curiosity.

"Transferred to 5th Fleet, I've been posted here."

"Gotcha," he nodded again and then, with an amiable smile cast back to the woman at the desk he made his way to Andolini's door pausing and pressing the chime to announce his arrival.

Sal had been getting coffee from the coffee maker on a side table when he heard the chime. So he called out, "Come in, it's open."

The door opened.

Jordan stepped through into the now familiar office and, dispensing somewhat with formalities, made a beeline for the seat in front of Andolini's desk. "Any chance you have enough of that for two? I can replicate one if not," he asked, propping one booted foot on his knee.

"Help yourself, there's also some pastries, courtesy of Mrs. Andolini, so help yourself, I recommend her cannoli,." Connie had not been able to finish the 'trouble' packet so she told him to bring some in to work and they were offered freely. "As for coffee, always keep a full pot with a crisis, you live on it."

The younger man shook his head, chuckling, as he did. "That's a fair point sir," he said, not waiting before resuming his feet and making his way over to the coffee pot and pouring a cup. He hesitated only a moment, taking his black, but recalling any number of times over his friendship with the Press Secretary how she liked her own cup.

"Have you had any word from Captain Blake yet today?" he asked.

"Not yet today, I hope to get some more information by this afternoon."

With a nod of understanding Jordan returned to the chair in front of the Admiral's desk, a bit of unease churning in his stomach as he did. For much of the weeks since the bombing Jocelyn had been crashing on his couch, avoiding going home where vandals had found her and seemingly unwilling to be alone. Their friendship had always worked like this over the years. If one of them was in need of help the other showed up. Couches were always on offer for a glass of wine or a temporary place to sleep. For years Jordan had imagined it a bit like what having a younger sister might be like. In her absence since the incident he'd found his apartment uncomfortably quiet.

"So where do you want to start?" He asked once Andolini had taken his position behind the desk.

"I've got the list of news agencies blowing up subspace, the Ferengi News Bureau is now offering 30 bars of Latinum for an exclusive. But we've got every one from the Andorians to the Zakdorn asking for information. I figure we'll split it so you're not doing all the calls. I've got a meeting with Security to get an update and what we can and cannot say to the press, I'll make sure that you have a copy, and once we confirm everything, we might want to have a press briefing. Thoughts?"

Jordan nodded as Andolini spoke, confirming his understanding. "Makes sense to me. Floating a statement, even a brief one, before the briefing might be a good idea. The Dredge is already fabricating happenings with the claim that they have a source on the ground who witnessed the event. They haven't released the name of the security officer who was killed, but they are threatening to and claiming that we have spent too much focus on covering up the activities of the CinC and the Press Secretary."

He paused, tabbing open a report on his PADD and then turning it to hand it to the Admiral. "The Galactic Dredge isn't one our usual wire scans, but they've picked a bone with Captain Blake since day 1, and even got some of the major networks to quote them, so I keep an eye on them."

That got a rather unprofessional grumble from the Admiral, "The fact that serious networks are quoting, bird cage liner is a sin and disgrace." Then he sighed, "Ok what are they finding now?"

Jordan's expression shifted, annoyance over the thorn in the side that was the Dredge coloring his features. "Their reports, what they have shared so far, seem to to be in keeping with what the shop keeper at the location where the Fleet Admiral and Captain took refuge saw. Could be someone looking to cash in on the notoriety, or could be faked, but if it's faked, it's a very good fake."

"I'm going to assume cash in at this point, if it is a fake and we can prove it, let me know immediately, right now, official comments on anything related to that picture is no comment, we won't dignify tabloid accusations with a comment." He sipped his coffee "If they get bad enough send them to me, I love a good scrap, in the blood."

The Deputy Press Secretary nodded, sighing. "Beyond the Dredge, it's just the usual suspects. They smell blood in the water and they want to be the first to the source. We'll keep 'em busy and hopefully Homeworld Security or Intelligence can get the guy soon so we can have something tangible to give them."

"Yeah, a good perp walk would get a lot of attention, and change the narrative." He flipped through some information, I say we schedule the conference with what we have. If we get an image or sketch, get it out interstellar."

Jordan pursed his lips and nodded again before pulling up a series of things on another PADD he had with him. "Ok... I'll work on that and let you know. Anything else we should talk through?"

Sal flipped through his list, "Any other stories we need to worry about, I figure while we know the main story, we should keep an eye on anything else, and if you can find good human interest stuff that would be great."

"The crisis in the Chalvana System," Jordan replied with a frown. "We can try to get some information from Interstellar Aid. It's been an ongoing investigation and relief effort. Want me to get a write up going?"

"Please." Sal's orders were always couched in politeness. "I'll start chumming the press waters to get updates." One of the reasons he even was considered for this job was he had a list of press contacts from all over the known galaxy. "Aside from that, when we can get the group together we'll go over a full press strategy, and hope nothing else happens."

Jordan nodded, taking a last sip of his coffee before standing. "I'll get to it then," he said with a smile to the Admiral. "Just yell if there's anything else you want to point me at."

"I'll Let you know. You can hear my shouting from the Golden Gate bridge."

With that the meeting broke up
]]>
Mon, 09 May 2022 04:56:21 +0000
Questions and Quanadries https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/72 https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/72
Mission - Episode 2: 18th and Constitution
Location - The Fortress, Pinetop, Arizona
Timeline - Mission Day 29 at 0730

[The Fortress]
[Pinetop, AZ]
[MD 29: 0730 Hours]


The first thing Jocelyn felt on waking was the luxurious warm restful feeling that comes after deep sleep. She was deliciously toasty, tucked underneath the comforter in her bed. Memory and consciousness wove themselves back together and the second and third realities followed close on their heels. Second… she had fallen asleep naked, an unusual feat for her. And third… she was sore. It wasn’t the kind of sore that made you think you slept in a funny position. More the kind that came when you’d exercised just a little more than normal and knew that you were going to find stairs a bit irritating for the rest of the day.

With a yawn, she stretched, slipping her hands up over her head and turning to the space next to her only to find that the other side of the bed was, unexpectedly, empty. The comforter was drawn back neatly at a 45 degree angle as if prepped for return, but then perhaps Sturnack had thought better of that decision. The thought that maybe… just maybe… now that the physical crisis had been averted… his logical side had reasserted itself and reminded him that she was human flooded her brain. Emotional. Young. Words tumbled through her head, each offering more and more reason for her to believe that she might have turned out to be insufficient after all. Her heart raced at the thought and her stomach twisted uncomfortably making her pull her legs up. Her arms wound down, wrapping her knees and she squeezed her eyes closed. Idiot. How could she have thought he could actually love her?

Whooooosh. The sound of the toilet flushing in the next room filled a few heartbeats-worth of time, followed by a rush of water from the sink. The stream was a staccato of sound, interrupted and shaped by the washing of hands underneath. Shortly after the water was shut off, the door swung inward, offering a view of a very naked Vulcan. Very much in shape and sculpted in musculature and tone, Sturnack returned from the bathroom and had been about to climb back into bed when he noticed Jocelyn's position and condition.

"Are you...alright?" he asked, arching an eyebrow as he moved to sit next to her on the bed. Sturnack took the initiative in taking one of her hands, allowing the connection between them to spark alive. Just as it had the night before, the telepathic touching of minds allowed for the sensing of his emotions. Though the Vulcan aptly suppressed and dispensed with them, the undercurrent of concern and affection could still be felt through the link.

Unwinding herself, Jocelyn looked first down at the hand holding hers, then up at the face looking down at her and then, when everything had registered her eyes widened and trailed down the very clearly unclothed body next to her. From her side the link was a spatter pattern of emotion, relief and sheepishness, a touch of embarrassment overtop of a significant undercurrent of affection and, with the last detail clicking into place a flush of memory from the night prior sent another more complicated level of affection through the link.

She tried to sort out how best to sit up without dropping his hand, but in the end did so, if only temporarily, so she could situate herself next to him. "Is... it... ok if umm..." she started, faltering slightly. The communication that had come so easily to her the night prior felt harder the morning after. She read his expression, though, and the flow of feeling from where they touched and sighed. "This is going to take some getting used to," she explained, a sheepish grin flashing across her face. "Would you like to snuggle?"

The sheer unexpectedness of those words leaving her mouth while an extremely naked Vulcan sat next to her was not lost on her and she couldn't repress the giggle that resulted.

Arching an eyebrow, Sturnack simply replied with "Indeed" to Jocelyn's assertion of potential complications. However, once the woman had requested to snuggle, the Vulcan's brow lowered and his head tilted back and forth in a nod. "Cuddling may commence," he said affirmatively, leaning back against the headboard of the bed, which felt cold against his back. "Vulcan and human pairings are, of course, difficult but they are not wholly uncommon. You will find that the telepathic link we share by touching will often inform you of certain feelings I may have but deign not to express." He looked down at Jocelyn then, reaching with a free hand to gently rest the tips of his fore- and index-fingers against her own, the link strengthening as he did so. "Onlookers have often wondered why Vulcans allow their human partners to hold their hands in public. While we speak little of it to others, you now know why," Sturnack said, dipping his head.

It was then that he lifted his left arm around and behind Jocelyn, gently drawing her closer until she was pressed against him. The warmth of his skin was a stark contrast to the chill in the air as the woman found herself firmly in a snuggle. Sturnack had guided Jocelyn into a position that had her face resting in a soft bed of chestnut and black hair across his chest, her hand reaching over to hug him from the side.

"Is this sufficient?" Sturnack asked, an undercurrent of humor subtly clouding the link, though his face remained passive as ever.

Jocelyn nodded against his chest, warmth and contentment and a not insignificant amount of something that could only be described as awareness washed across their link, a bit like the lapping of water around the edges of a pool when someone had dropped something in making a large splash. "This is lovely," she said with a sigh. "And unexpected. And comforting. And..." she waved her free hand as if it would conjure all of the words she wanted to express herself. When the words didn't come she gave a sort of half shrug and burrowed closer, setting her hand on his chest next to her head and slowly running her fingers up his chest, swirling and returning back downward in a sort of slow soothing motion.

"I have... a lot of questions..." she said after a few quiet minutes of simply sitting. Despite the chill she found she was warm curled up against him and she'd closed her eyes, breathing him in and trying to memorize the way he smelled.

"It is possible that I have answers," Sturnack replied dispassionately. "You may ask whatever it is you wish, Jocelyn." He was all business: matter-of-fact and all that. But underneath, through the link, a tickle of nervousness and apprehension arose. It was nothing to quell the emotions and set them aside, though Jocelyn would, of course, be privy to them. Waiting for her questions, the Vulcan allowed himself to relax more into the embrace. He did not sigh with contentment or otherwise express happiness but, the fact that he allowed the touching was encouraging.

A touch of embarrassment colored the feelings the Vulcan would have picked up from their link. "So... you used the term Partner..." she began, drawing out the words as she said them. "Did we... I mean... on Vulcan..." her cheeks colored slightly. "I'm mucking this up," she muttered before she sucked in a deep breath. "Are we... like... married or something... in the Vulcan sense?"

"On Vulcan, the Pon Farr is resolved by the practice of mating. Mating," Sturnack explained dispassionately, "can take multiple forms. It can be as temporary as a one-time partner or, as with pre-arranged Vulcan marriages, the mating can be a permanent arrangement. However," an eyebrow arched even though, from her position, Jocelyn could not see it, "you and I did not say the words that would bond us for life. We coupled last night and, from here, we must decide how much or how little we wish that bond to permeate our lives. You are not permanently beholden to me, Jocelyn," the Vulcan reassured. "However, should you wish, we could continue to pursue an...entanglement," he nodded.

Fingers continued to trace as she listened, processing his explanation. So mate meant the act, not the title. It was helpful context and yet felt like an insufficient description for the connection between them. A very unladylike snort escaped the woman at the term entanglement. "Just if I wish?" she asked with a touch of amusement, although uncertainty threaded through the rest of her emotions. She did want... wish... whatever term he wanted to use, but the very human urge to question whether he wanted to or whether the act of sating that need was sufficient to... cool... some of the affections he had expressed loomed large.

Sturnack grew quiet for a moment, listening to the whispering threads of emotion coming across their bond. Though he, himself, did not wish to experience such emotions, he could not deny that they were a source of valuable information about Jocelyn and her current thought processes. "I am, of course, possessed of agency in the decision as well," he finally said, nodding slowly. "And if you were so inclined, I would be willing to pursue such further. However, entanglements between humans and Vulcans are not always easy to navigate. There may be times when my stoicism and lack of emotion frustrate you. Conversely, your own emotional states may not always...tickle my fancy," he used a native aphorism. "Should we mutually decide to further pursue this connection, we must do so with our eyes wide open. There will be much to discover and settle into," Sturnack advised.

Jocelyn was quiet for a moment, trying to sort the emotions that were hers and those that were his. With the Pon Farr satisfied his emotions were quieter. Still present, but they required more effort to separate from her own. The nuance of it was surprising to her and it took an effort to characterize which were his and which were hers when they were touching for more than a moment like this. Briefly she wondered if it would always be so hard to discern the difference or if she would learn, with time, the way a person's footsteps or mannerisms become familiar, bringing instant recognition.

She had tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it as she thought before finally coming to some sort of conclusion, the certainty of which overrode other doubts. "I want to see what it would be like to be a couple with you. I understand that you are Vulcan and I am not. But I want you to understand that that is a secondary detail. I like you. I am attracted to you. But I only want to try this if you also want to. Not acquiescing to what I want. I want you... To want me too. If that isn't possible... Then I don't know..." She trailed off losing the form of her thought.

"I admit," Sturnack began again, "with the Pon Farr now passed, the drive to mate has receded. In its wake, however," the Vulcan continued, "I find myself very drawn to you, Jocelyn. My curiosity is quite piqued; I wonder where this newfound connection could go. However," his tone was steady and methodical, "curiosity alone does not drive my desire to pursue this. I have admired you for quite some time. And," Sturnack noted, "while this...relationship," for it seemed that was what the mating was becoming, "may make our work lives more difficult, I wish to see it through."

Sturnack held up two fingers then, as he had the night before. When Jocelyn matched them, pressing her own against his, the depth of the connection between them deepened. It became much easier for her to identify his own emotions versus her own. There was something there; something burgeoning as he leaned down to gently place his lips on Jocelyn's. Though he had not said the words expressly, the Vulcan's desire for her flared like fire. He moved to --

Knock knock knock. The sound of the door being thumped from downstairs broke the reverie.

Sitting up -- careful not to jostle Jocelyn -- the Vulcan arched an eyebrow. "Who would be coming to call on Christmas morning?" he asked, wondering if they -- in their coupling -- had forgotten some prearranged visit.

Heat rushed through her followed promptly by a deep flush to her skin brought on by the sudden knocking. Jocelyn's heart felt like it was in her throat, pounding in her ears, at the interruption. She felt like a teenager caught by disapproving parents and had to remind herself that she had every right. That they were both consenting adults.

"I don't... know..." she said, breath just a touch ragged. A flush of disappointment and annoyance flowed through her as well, frustrated at the interruption.

Sturnack rose from the bed just as the knock, knock, knock sounded again: somehow insistent this time. "I will see who it is," he said, retrieving the tunic he'd worn the night before from the floor, near the bed. He looked ridiculous like that: clothed on top but bare bottomed as he hunted around for his undershorts and pants. Finally finding them, though, the Vulcan was in motion toward the bedroom door even as he slid his legs into the appropriate holes. Hoisting up and fastening his pants, Sturnack exited the room and moved down the stairs.

Jocelyn was a bit slower moving, but only by a small amount. She slid off the bed after him, heading for the closet, but casting glances in his direction as he dressed finding it hard not to stop and stare instead of focusing on her own attire. He was already out the door before she'd even managed a bra and underwear. She debated a moment finally deciding on a pair of joggers and a more fitted sweatshirt that was comfortable, but also allowed for range of motion should this be something more nefarious than an unplanned visitor. She cycled the short list of people who knew where they were through her head. Cowell? Seemed unlikely if he hadn't been called there. Would Whitford chance it? She shook her head and then hurried out of the room, padding softly down the stairs.

Arriving at the door, Sturnack reached out to undo the locks before thinking better of the idea. Instead, he moved into the kitchen and retrieved a phaser he'd stashed there upon he and Jocelyn's arrival. In fact, he'd hidden a phaser in every room of the cabin, anticipating that firepower would be necessary should the assassin they'd been hiding away from find them and break in. Holding the phaser up at hip level, Sturnack again moved towards the door as -- yet again -- the pesky knocking insisted on being addressed. Reaching up with his free hand, the Vulcan poised himself to undo the locks before calling out, "Who is there?"

"Starfleet Security, sir," came the muffled voice from the other side of the door. "We tried to contact you on your combadge but got no response. Are you alright, Admiral?"

Sturnack's eyes narrowed. While it was true that his combadge was in his bedroom -- where he'd left it the night before -- and inaudible from the bedroom, that did not mean the person at the door was who they said they were. If they truly wanted to reach them, why not contact Jocelyn? Unless, perhaps, her combadge had been set so as not to interrupt their Christmas Eve merriment? Nevertheless, a visitor was here and his identity needed to be confirmed. "Please provide the security passphrase," he said through the door, invoking the phrase Starfleet Security had given him to identify themselves if needed.

"Little teapot," came the response. "Short and stout, sir."

That was, indeed, the passphrase. As such, Sturnack nodded and swiftly undid the deadlock bolts on the door. Swinging it open, he could now see the two Starfleet Security officers on the porch. "Greetings," he intoned, moving back to let them inside. "Why are you here?" the Vulcan asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

Jocelyn had just caught the end of the passphrase as she reached the bottom of the steps and had to bring a hand to her mouth to suppress the giggle. She wondered if Sturnack was aware of the children's rhyme being referenced. Somehow the idea that he was made it that much funnier. She made her way over to stand next to the CinC, standing close enough that the backs of their hands brushed. If the security officers noticed the new closeness they didn't comment.

"It's over, sir," the lead security officer said. "Late last night, we detected a transporter signature nearby. It was, of course, outside of the transport inhibitor field but still close by. When we neared the location to investigate, the suspect had already made his way into the field and was headed towards the cabin. We'd been keeping a close perimeter, though," the officer explained, "and we quickly isolated the suspect's location. He ended up giving us quite the chase through the woods, sir." And indeed, both officers bore cuts and scrapes on their faces to indicate such. "We eventually we got him down, though. He's currently in custody back at headquarters."

"We'd have notified you earlier," the other officer spoke up, "but it was so late, Admiral Whitford said we should let you sleep. When we couldn't reach either of you this morning, though, we got concerned that something had happened."

Sturnack took all of this in, looking back at Jocelyn even as he felt her emotions through their surreptitious touching. His own undercurrents were tinged with relief, though -- as ever -- the Vulcan's face retained its mask of neutrality. "It would seem the immediate threat has ended, then," he nodded to her. Looking back at the officers, he asked, "Do Homeworld Security and Starfleet Intelligence believe it is safe for us to return then?"

"For the time being, yes," the first officer nodded quickly. "Obviously we're going to interrogate the perpetrator but we have little reason to believe a second assassin is out there. Even so, you'll both be escorted by enhanced security details until we can be absolutely sure the danger has completely passed. You can return home whenever you wish, sir," he smiled warmly. "And uh...happy Christmas," he smirked, noticing the lit-up tree and festive decorations.

"And to you," the Vulcan dipped his head in response. He watched as the two officers, now dismissed, made their way across the snow-laden grounds of The Fortress, heading for the edge of the transport inhibitor field. He imagined they would be quite glad to get out of the cold and return to their own homes as well. Closing the door, Sturnack turned back to Jocelyn and held her hand in its entirety. "It would seem we are free from sequestration. Do you wish to return now? Or would you, perhaps, wish to linger for a time? It is, after all, Christmas morning." Unspoken -- but perhaps felt -- was the latent quandary of how the would-be assassin learned of The Fortress' location. Such was best left for later, however, once they had returned to Starfleet Command.

Even in the face of serious news the feel of Sturnack's hand holding Jocelyn's sent her insides fluttering. She glanced after the retreating backs of the two officers, considering. "If we linger..." she said, the start of a question on her lips, "can we let them go home?"

Truth be told she didn't have anything to go home to. She'd barely been sleeping at her apartment before the assassination attempt and the thought of returning there after everything that had happened the night prior felt uncomfortable. Still, she hated to be the reason that others, who might also wish to be with their loved ones, were left standing out in the cold to manage the security for herself and Sturnack. "I would... like... to spend the day with you," she told him. "Honestly there's not much to go home to."

Sturnack shook his head slowly. "They will stay here as long as we do. However, my understanding is that the shifts have been both decreased in duration and increased in number to account for the holiday. This should provide ample security coverage regardless of our location today while still allowing security officers time with their loved ones as needed or desired. Meaning," the Vulcan explained as he crossed the room, taking a supine seat on the floor next to the glittering tree, "they will be...just fine, as humans are fond of saying," he said, head dipping. "We may remain here as long as you wish."

It was then that Sturnack reached under the tree, retrieving a package elegantly wrapped in shining, foil-esque paper. The paper itself was cardinal red interspersed with checkered squares of opague and half-transparent black, looking not altogether unlike a certain Buffalo plaid shirt Jocelyn had spied the Vulcan sporting on colder days at The Fortress. Entwined around the package -- which measured around 8 inches long and 4 inches wide -- was a beautiful chromatic bow, which glimmered with a rainbow cascade of reflected flecks of light as Sturnack passed the parcel over.

"Merry Christmas, Jocelyn," the Vulcan said, the dispassion in his tone a stark contrast against the general, intended merriment of the words he chose.

Jocelyn had followed the Vulcan over to the tree and settled next to him, one knee bumping his as she did. For a long moment she stared at the stunning paper and the bow looking from it to Sturnack and back again. The expression on her face was soft and warm a signal of how she felt in the moment. "Merry Christmas, Sturnack," she said the emotions she was feeling suffusing her tone. She leaned over, pressing her lips to his for a long moment before sitting back and carefully beginning to unwrap the gift.

As the paper fell away, a black eyeglass case was revealed. And as that, too, was opened, the real contents of the gift became apparent. Sitting nestled in the cushioned confines of the case was a pair of transparent-framed glasses, quite similar to the style Jocelyn was almost always found wearing. The lenses reflected the light as the glasses were pulled free of their case and examined. At first, the glasses remained clear -- completely see-through in color and tint -- but after a few moments of Jocelyn's touch, they began to slowly rotate through different colors. Clear frames became indigo, then cycled through cyan and canary before slow-fading into cranberry and then azure.

"I realize you already have a pair that change color," Sturnack noted, eyeing the currently-red-spectacles on the woman's face. "These do the same but have an additional function, however. Place them on your face," he encouraged softly.

Curious, she removed her glasses, setting them on the floor next to her. They were a bit of an idiosyncrasy of hers having not opted for corrective surgery when the shift in her eyesight remained minor. Carefully she flipped open the temples and slid the new ones on.

As the glasses settled onto the bridge of Jocelyn's nose, said extra function sprang to life. The lenses made a slight whirring sound as they activated, an augmented-reality overlay of information appearing across the inner surface of the lenses. Sprawling across Jocelyn's vision were various news outlet headlines, notifications of newly arrived text communiques, weather information for Pinetop, Arizona, and other bits and bobs of information helpful in the woman's role.

"I hope you will find these helpful to you. They are operated," Sturnack explained, "by eye tracking and certain blinking patterns. Perhaps not as robust as a PADD," he noted, "but when you're on the go and your hands are full of coffee tumblers and umbrellas, they might provide some utility," he said.

The Press Secretary was speechless. She scanned the information, mouth dropping open in surprise. After a moment, though, she removed them, leaning in to kiss him again before resuming her old glasses. "Thank you Sturnack. I love them. And I will wear them... once I learn how to work them." She grinned at him with a chuckle. "But for now... I want to be able to see you without the data stream. Which reminds me..."

She jumped to her feet, a grin stretching along her features. She held up one finger. "One second," she said then disappeared in a flurry up the stairs to her room. It was only a moment before her footsteps could be hurried hurrying back down the stairs. When she reappeared she held a cube-shaped box. It, too, was wrapped in paper, though the ribbon was some kind of almost plastic feeling thing that spiraled in a cascade of twirls down the sides of the wrapping.

"For you..." she said, offering him the box before resuming her seat, eyes expressing her excitement.

Sturnack arched an eyebrow as he took the box, eyeing the curls of ribbon as they fell around it. With a delicate grasp, one end of the ribbon was pulled, releasing the knot that held the wrapping paper tight. The Vulcan carefully pulled the paper free, setting it aside on the nearby coffee table.

Wrapping removed, a cardboard box was revealed. It was lightweight and when Sturnack pulled open the tabbed top, there was a bed of red and green paper on the inside. Nestled carefully in the paper was what appeared to be a coffee tumbler, though by the size of the box it couldn't be a real one.

The Vulcan carefully prized the tumbler from the box, lifting it by a glimmering and dainty gold hook to examine in the light. The tumbler-as-Christmas-ornament was cranberry in color and bore a miniaturized version of the Starfleet Command seal. "Ah," Sturnack said, placing the meaning behind the gift as his thoughts clicked into place. The ornament was a direct callback to the tumbler the Vulcan had given Jocelyn not long after beginning her new job at Starfleet Command.

"It seemed... appropriate..." Jocelyn said, suddenly self-conscious. "There's a note in the bottom of the box." She waited while Sturnack pulled the paper free, drawing forth a small slip of paper. She had written it the afternoon prior before wrapping the box. She knew he couldn't simply have an ornament, but hadn't wanted to stick him with a lot to carry whenever they could leave, so the note indicated a promise to produce a smaller version of the tree from The Fortress for Sturnack's use on the next holiday and an offer to assist him in procuring additional ornaments.

"A gift to be treasured," Sturnack nodded slowly, reaching to place the little ornament back into its box for safe keeping. "Thank you, Jocelyn," he added, wondering what his apartment would look like with a Christmas tree come next December. Such was hardly Vulcan but, if Jocelyn was to be in his life at such an intimate level, the adoption -- or at least the allowance -- of human customs would become much more the norm, he anticipated.

"The entire day is ours," Sturnack said, slowly rising from the sitting position he'd been in. He offered Jocelyn a hand up, too, as he said, "Perhaps the logical next step for our day is to make breakfast. Have you heard of a 'waffle iron' before?" the Vulcan asked, eyebrow raised. "The Admiral's has not been used in quite some time. We could replicate the ingredients needed to make waffles should you be interested. Our first join effort as a...couple?" he used the term Jocelyn had chosen earlier, his tone curling upward into a questioning end. "Griselda included actual maple syrup from New Hampshire in the supplies she brought us..." Sturnack trailed off.

Her eyes gleamed at his use of the term couple and she found herself worrying her bottom lip again. "I am, quite, familiar with waffle irons," she informed him proudly. "Sounds like the perfect way to practice our... coupledom..."

Her hand hadn't left his from when he'd helped to pull her from the floor and she stepped close, going up onto her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his lips. "Shall we?" she asked after a moment, taking the hand she was still holding and pulling him into the kitchen.

=/\= A joint post by... =/\=

Captain Jocelyn Blake
Press Secretary
Starfleet Command

and

Fleet Admiral Sturnack
Commander-in-Chief
Starfleet Command]]>
Wed, 20 Apr 2022 19:00:12 +0000
Where the Love Light Gleams https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/70 https://sfc.treksim.com/index.php/sim/viewpost/70
Mission - Episode 2: 18th and Constitution
Location - The Fortress, Pinetop, Arizona
Timeline - Mission Day 28 at 1830

[The Fortress]
[Pinetop, AZ]
[MD 29: 1830 Hours]


The Fortress, as it was so affectionately named, was picturesque in the quiet dark of Christmas Eve. The sun had only just set, but somehow the dark outside the windows, falling snow visible in the light that came from the windows, made the space fall warm and intimate – like a hideaway, stepped out of time and the intensity of Starfleet’s scramble to solve the question of the bombing and subsequent assassination attempt.

Jocelyn had spent time preparing for the evening. She’d extracted an agreement from Sturnack several days prior to spend the evening relaxing and enjoying the seasonal feeling of sitting by the fire, admiring the tree, and simply resting in the simplicity of the eve of the holiday. The coffee table next to the couch bore evidence of her effort. A tray laden with treats, both savory and sweet, dominated the space. Some of the items were warm and steaming while others, fruits and cheeses, filled the space next to them. There were two small plates and utensils along with two large mugs of hot chocolate laden with peppermint schnapps.

The press secretary, herself, was settled on the corner of the couch that she had begun to think of as her own. Sturnack hadn’t yet emerged from meetings, and since her preparations were mostly complete she had stoked the fire, departing only long enough to climb into a pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt with heavy socks. Now she stared at the fire, a myriad of emotions and near-memories playing through her head.

Her eyes unfocused, the flames of the fireplace turning blurry in her vision as she replayed the night prior again, for what felt like the thousandth time. For as many times as she did it her brain always returned to flashes. The feeling of affection and warmth that had stolen over her. The nearly irrepressible urge to touch and to comfort. The way his eyes had held hers while her breath caught in her chest. And… more than any other thing… the feel of his cheek under her lips. As if it had been just moments again instead of a whole day, the heat of a blush crept up her neck, flushing her cheeks to the tips of her ears. She had thought about that moment all day, and found her entire self lingering on a feeling of unmoored anticipation. For what, she didn’t know, but it was there – irrepressible – impossible to ignore – prickling her scalp and making her shift in her seat as if she were preparing to jump into some sort of action.

With a subtle squeak, the door to Sturnack's room softly opened. The Vulcan -- after his last meetings had wrapped -- had changed out of his uniform and into comfortable clothing, including a surprise for Jocelyn. As he came down the hall and around the corner, said surprise was on full display. To go with the sweatpants he wore, Sturnack had donned the ugliest Christmas sweater in existence. It was glaringly green and red with crosscheck patterns and what looked like a hand-crocheted attempt at Santa Claus. Had Santa had a stroke, the sweater might look more accurate but, more than likely, whoever had crocheted the design was sorely in need of honing their craft.

"Hello Jocelyn," the Vulcan intoned softly, his eyes settling on the plate of treats and the two steaming mugs of cocoa. "I see my timing is advantageous. Thank you," he nodded to the tray and mugs, "for putting these together for us. Merry Christmas Eve," Sturnack nodded before moving to take a seat on the couch next to the woman. With a cheery fire roaring in the fireplace, the cold had been entirely dispelled.

As the Vulcan entered the living room, garish sweater on full display, Jocelyn's jaw dropped and a giggle escaped her before she managed to compose herself. She watched as he approached expecting him to turn towards his chair; the one he had informed her was so precisely placed for dispelling the cold. His steps, however, turned instead toward the couch and her look of surprise at the appearance of the world's most terrible Christmas sweater shifted to an almost shy smile.

"Merry Christmas Eve to you too, Sturnack," she said quietly. Her tone held an edge of electricity to it, sound mirroring the anticipation that had rooted itself into her bones. She shifted so she was turned towards him, her side to the fire and scanned his face. With a twist of her stomach she realized they had never, really, sat this close before. Her eyes studied his face, taking him in -- the warm chocolate of his eyes and the pointed shell of his ear; the sweep of dark brows that had become so very familiar.

She held her breath, letting it out slowly before pressing her lips together. Intent on distracting her thoughts she sat forward, reaching for their mugs, her knee brushing against his as she leaned over to pick them both up before offering one to him.

Vulcan hands reached out to accept the mug, fingers delicately brushing against Jocelyn's but making no effort to move away. Similarly, the touching of their knees together was not dispelled -- instead, Sturnack bowed his head deeply in thanks for the cocoa but held the woman's eyes with his own, noticing the way the Christmas lights from the nearby tree sparkled on her glasses. Touching as they were, that instinctive connection from the night prior reached out once again, intertwining Sturnack's own repressed emotions with Jocelyn's much more open honeycomb of feelings.

"Thank you for the cocoa," Sturnack said neutrally, his face -- as ever -- a mask of neutrality. Contrary to his facial expressions, however, a calm peace settled across the link as notes of warmth and welcome came through from the Vulcan's side of things: a stark contrast to his outer façade. He traced his index finger along Jocelyn's, momentarily flooding the link with the longing he felt inside, wondering if -- by now -- the woman had figured out that touching connected them in more ways than just the physical. Slowly withdrawing from the finger brushing, he took a sip of his beverage and then, gesturing to his sweater, arched an eyebrow. "I found this in one of John's Christmas boxes in the shed. Is it...festive enough?" he asked, again making eye contact.

Blue-green eyes darted from his face to where their hands touched on the mug and back again as the anticipation she had been feeling suddenly and without warning quelled, shifting into something calmer. She found herself shifting further toward him, angling her body into a more open language, making him welcome as much with her positioning as with her words. And then his finger traced hers.

She couldn't breathe. Or maybe she stopped breathing? Or maybe all the air had been sucked out of the room? It didn't matter. It didn't matter and it didn't matter. With a stuttering release of held breath she unconsciously wet her lips. The desire to touch was back, but stronger than the night prior. This desire was less about comfort and more about curiosity. About wanting to explore. And with it her cheeks flushed dark and her eyes darted down as she brought her mug to her lips, only withdrawing her hand form his own mug when his finger finally left hers.

Breath came more freely again, but the desire to touch remained, muted slightly, but there nonetheless. She suddenly felt ill-equipped and under-dressed. He'd said the night prior there was someone. Someone he'd begun to care for. And she'd perseverated on those words every time that flash of memory arose, quiet hope building even as her brain told her how immensely foolish she was.

"It's... festive," she said with an almost forced laugh, her body's reaction to him getting in the way of her response. The calm she had felt had now leached away entirely, the unclear anticipation she felt roaring back into place behind it. She tried to shake it away, shove it back so she could pay attention rather than sitting there starry-eyed like a teenager with her first crush.

"Had I known that we were wearing ugly sweaters I might have replicated one of my own. They're a particularly unusual part of the tradition," she said, her voice sounding a bit more normal this time.

"John was an...unusual," Sturnack used Jocelyn's word, "man. It seemed fitting, however, to honor his memory by wearing this." The Vulcan had noticed the woman moving closer and angling his way and, for a moment, he'd been tempted to melt into her. His whole body -- with knees still touching -- screamed for him to conjoin fingers with her's again and fully give himself over to Pon Farr. But before he could even consider such a thing, he had to openly admit something. Something that was not at all easy for him to acknowledge, much less speak aloud, but doing so was the only way to move forward.

An absent hand went to Jocelyn's glasses, pressing the frames up her nose. She'd chosen a bright cherry red for the day, a color that seemed both to evoke the season as well as the direction of her thoughts all in one vibrant color. Sturnack's friendship with his predecessor intrigued her. She knew that Vulcan's certainly had friendships and strong familial ties to the best of her knowledge, but she had never had a front row seat to hearing about one before. She offered him a smile and a nod of understanding before her eyes scanned the room around them. There had been several components to their decorating designed to honor John and she found herself wishing she had known him as she took in the brightness and warmth of the room.

"There is another reason for my attire," Sturnack spoke again, this time more softly. "It feels dishonest not to disclose the secondary reason to you. While I do wish to honor my friend," he dipped his head in a slight bow of acknowledgement, "I also wanted to make you happy, Jocelyn. You have become very important to me as of late," he explained before taking an agonizingly slow drink of his cocoa. "So important that I am taking risks I would not normally take with someone. Risks like this," he said, reaching out to gently take Jocelyn's hand.

At the touch, a kaleidoscope of emotions fractal-patterned through the re-established link. Despite the placid look on the Vulcan's face, very clear feelings were coming through: admiration, adoration, and a kernel of what could only be described as a passionate longing to grow -- to be -- closer. "Vulcans," Sturnack began, "are accustomed to walling off our feelings. To taming them," he said, intertwining his hand now with Jocelyn's, "and ensuring they do not dictate our actions. However," he arched an eyebrow, "I have come to feel certain emotions for you. Emotions I am, at times, unable to control."

Jocelyn stilled as he took her hand, careful not to withdraw from his touch, but surprised by the directness of it. Until moments before she would have said that he carefully avoided or managed any physical interaction with her now, though, this... this was different and deliberate. At the same time that she was working to carefully manage her reaction a flood of emotions bubbled up in her and she felt her heart skip and stutter. The emotions washed over her first, but his words cemented them, as if he were speaking the exact emotions she was feeling in that moment. Gently, her fingers settled in between his, resting on the back of his hand, the warmth of the touch somehow overpowering the warmth of the fire at her back.

"At first," he continued, "I thought these feelings were related to a neuro-chemical imbalance I am suffering from." Sturnack searched Jocelyn's face for recognition of the ailment he hinted at but, when the expression he predicted did not come, he explained further. "Pon Farr is the mating impulse of my people. Every seven years, we are biologically and uncontrollably driven to take a mate. I have been putting my Pon Farr off for awhile now with the help of Doctor Cowell and his medicines. But with each passing day here with you, however, I feel closer to completely losing control to certain urges."

"My feelings for you and my need to take a mate are two distinctly different conditions," the Vulcan added on. "However, being thrown together in this cabin for several days has caused both to come to a head, as it were." Still holding Jocelyn's hand, the feelings of conflict came through clearly: both love and fear of the unknown boiled in his psyche. "I am afraid I have little experience speaking of such things. But as a touch telepath," he squeezed her hand, "I hope that you can feel the veracity of what I have said."

Her eyes widened as his statement clicked everything into place and her eyes shifted quickly down to their joined hands, before returning back to his face. She opened her mouth as if she was going to say something but paused, sensing there was more for him to say and feeling the conflict that she now understood was his own, flowing through her. The understanding of what was happening felt as if it turned many things on their head, but there was hardly enough time to reflect on them now. She squeezed his hand back, acknowledgement of her understanding as she waited for him to continue.

Sturnack met Jocelyn's gaze and held it, his facial expression almost pained as his secrets were laid bare. "I do not expect anything from you. These...ailments are my own to contend with. And I know from past experience that admitting such things can make life very complicated. But I thought it only fair that I be upfront with you now. To explain why...why I will need to pull away from you," he said somberly, letting his hand fall away from Jocelyn's, breaking the emotional connection. "To be near you is to be a slave to my own desires; I do not know how much longer I can keep them under control."

Jocelyn felt the loss of his hand -- of the flow of emotion -- like a blow, and her fingers twitched as if they knew the loss and longed to resume their connection. She was quiet for a long moment, understanding now that without his touch her own emotions asserted themselves. Her own feelings were immensely clear. She hadn't been touching him when she found herself thinking of him throughout the day or when she'd lay in bed the night prior replaying the feel of his cheek against her lips over and over and over until she fell asleep only to have the same memory return in her dreams with the added benefit of her imagination of what could have been in a different circumstance.

Finally, she voiced the first, overwhelming question that filled her head. "That was you?" she asked, awe in the new understanding she had infusing her tone. "When you touch me... the things I felt... that was you?"

"It was," Sturnack stated in matter of fact fashion. "Vulcans are trained at a very young age to compartmentalize their emotions; to wall them off as they arise and stow them away. While not nearly as intimate as a mind meld," the man explained, "touching can be the initial conduit of connection. You felt what I was feeling," Sturnack confirmed. "It was the undercurrent of emotion behind my walls," the Vulcan said, trying to make what had taken place more clear.

"If I can... feel... what you feel," she said, slowly, putting things together. "Can you feel what I feel?" She had to assume that he could not. Or at least if he had... that something about what she felt was insufficient evidence that the last thing she wanted him to do was pull away.

"The connection can go both ways," Sturnack nodded deeply. "I have attempted, however, to filter your own emotions out of my periphery -- to make the connection as one way as possible. I did not wish to violate the privacy of your own mind without consent. I am hoping," the Vulcan sounded almost weary, "that feeling what my words cannot express will help you to understand why I must pull away. Like with Ovrora," he said softly, suddenly sparking a new connection around why he'd been about to burn the letters the night prior.

Jocelyn's expression shifted from curious to something bordering on fiercely determined in the time it took him to explain. "Sturnack," she said with an intensity to her tone that she hoped would catch his attention, "I am not Ovrora." She had been turned toward him before, but now she shifted fully, pulling one leg up onto the couch while the other stayed firmly on the ground. She lay both of her hands palms up on her knees, an invitation. "See for yourself."

The Vulcan looked at the offered hands for a few moments, then flicked his eyes up to meet Jocelyn's. "Logic dictates you are, of course, not her. But the situation is similar," he noted, more to himself than anyone. However, as the woman again gestured with her open hands, the allure to connect -- with full, two-way consent -- was too powerful to ignore. Tentatively Sturnack reached forward, placing each of his hands on hers and taking a deep breath, his eyes closing as he did so. Touching as they were, the link established once again, only this time the Vulcan allowed himself to sample and feel the emotions coming from Jocelyn.

Jocelyn watched him move, studying his face and then, with the warmth of his palms on hers, she let herself look down. A small smile settled on her face and she curled her fingers around his wrists, cradling them as if holding something very precious in her hands. Her own eyes fluttered closed as the wave of Sturnack's emotion flowed across the link first. Hesitation and fear warred with his curiosity while an undercurrent of anger made her pause. She felt the anger as if it was directed at her at first and it took her a confused moment of focus to put together that the emotion wasn't directed at her, but was self-directed. Her eyes opened briefly and she peeked up at him, but aside from closed eyes his face retained its usual passivity.

Eyes closing again she waded through the intensity and urgency of emotions, seeking out the ones that she knew were her own and focusing on them -- on the trueness and rightness of them in a way that was almost painfully vulnerable. Self-doubt came first, a cloud of questioning what right she had to acknowledge these feelings and what difficulty they could create. Hope, however, bright and fierce, was quick on its heels, dispelling the gray like a sunbeam after rain. In the brilliance of that hope she made herself focus on memories. She imagined the tension she felt when they had been decorating. The desire to be closer and the attraction that flushed her cheeks and filled her with restlessness. The concern she felt for him as she walked him through stretches. She reached further back, then, for an emotion laced memory that she didn't like to recall.

The image of green blood, soaking the legs of her pants and crusted to her hands reared up fast and ready as if it had been lying in wait. And with it the loss. The grief. The immense feeling of someone gone who was more important than just the man she reported to. She hadn't understood the depth of that fear at the time. But she did now. She reached further for the feeling of comfort and safety and warmth that she had felt standing in her office sobbing. Other memories hurried past. The relief from when she'd learned he would live. The tentative excitement that she was almost embarrassed to admit when she had tagged along with Marlena to the hospital and the gratitude, the care she had felt when he had intervened in her firing.

Somewhere in that mix of memories the emotions had begun to shift. From friendliness to friendship. Friendship to something more than that. And finally to what she had only truly begun to recognize in the last few days. The draw and preference for him over anyone else. The desire to know him more fully and deeply. The awareness of interest beyond the intellectual into the emotional in a way that alarmed and excited her.

She focused on that next, returning to the way she felt by the fire the night prior. The depth of affection and appreciation. The deep rooted desire to care for and soothe. The need to express it all to him somehow. And then, in the moment when she let herself break that barrier from friendship to some other unknown, the feel of her lips on his cheek and the way that it flared something in her that she couldn't keep ignoring. The way she had been unable to sleep and.. finally... the intimate desire of what she had found in her dreams when she finally did. Twin flames settled at the center of her. One that twined adoration and endearment, tenderness and warmth, with a clear preference for the man next to her. The other bring with desire and an eagerness to demonstrate that fondness in some way.

Sturnack had been silent during the exchange of emotions but now, as everything became clear, his breath actually caught in his chest. He could feel how close Jocelyn had come to regard him; feel how she felt about him in the many, many moments they'd shared previously. Coffee walks, banter in meetings, hospital visits, decorating the cabin...all of these activities had only served to fan what had once been only embers but now had grown into a roaring flame. It wasn't necessarily love -- at least, not the deep, intimate kind yet -- but the way Jocelyn felt brought Sturnack immense surprise and satisfaction.

Normally, the Vulcan would file such emotions away -- burn them in the crucible that was the fire of his mind -- but caught in the throes of Pon Farr as he was, barely able to control himself, those feelings burned brightly inside him. Bubbling through the link, Sturnack's emotions surged with an intensity the woman would not -- could not -- be prepared for. As sweat began to bead across his forehead, it became clear through the link that Sturnack, too, had developed feelings of his own. Slowly at first but growing ever more each time they'd spent quiet moments together. And here, at The Fortress, his feelings for Jocelyn had focused like energy collected and released through a phaser emitter.

It was very clear now -- hands held in hands -- that Sturnack wanted her as much as she wanted him. Her mental touch was excited, a bit nervous and fearful, but also warm and embracing. It was as if Jocelyn were projecting a tractor beam that pulled him closer and closer in. As the link flared, the Vulcan leaned in and whispered, "Are you sure you want this, Jocelyn? If...if we cross this bridge together, there isn't a way back." His voice was strained, his face beginning to scrunch up in discomfort. Though Sturnack fought to keep his neutral mask in place, the blood fever burned within his veins and pounded in his ears. The desire to initiate what his urges demanded rose in him to an intensity unmistakable in the link. She had to be sure before she opened herself up wholly to him.

The moment he understood was like a dam breaking to her. What had been clear, but controlled became torrential. A flood. Deep rushing tides, made urgent by the physical drive he was fighting, threatened to overwhelm her for a moment before her own tidal waves rose to meet his. Unlike Sturnack she was no stranger to depth and intensity in her emotions and the way they could drive action.

His breath next to her cheek as he whispered raised goosebumps on her arms and a shiver of anticipation down her neck. Her grip tightened on his wrists and she opened her eyes, saw the conflict on his face and, taking a deep breath, answered him with actions rather than words. It was a simple thing to close the gap between him, pressing soft lips to his. Sturnack's lips were warm, almost feverish and she held them only for a moment, drawing back to press her forehead to his. "I'm sure," she said quietly. "Tell me what to do. What you want."

Sturnack seemed to melt into the kiss, his body becoming pliant as he moved in even closer, as if to melt into Jocelyn. But as she pulled away from the kiss and pressed her forehead against his, it was with a grunt of effort that Sturnack broke the link, removing his hands from hers and backing off. They were no longer touching in any way. One might ask why he would pull back when Sturnack had so obviously been given the go ahead. But his next actions and their accompanying words would hopefully explain it all.

Recovering some of his wherewithal, the Vulcan regrouped himself. Sweat continued to bead his brow, one droplet running down the side of his bearded face, disappearing into the dark, close-cropped brush growing there. Eyes open now, Sturnack lifted his right hand, forming a gesture composed of only his first two fingers in extension. His thumb and other fingers clawed inward, the projective points of his index and middle fingers moving closer to Jocelyn.

"I will initiate the mating bond," he breathed heavily. "Simply touch your fingers to mine. In doing so, you will feel the connection between us grow, Jocelyn. Beyond this room, beyond this cabin...beyond even the stars themselves, you and I will become connected," Sturnack said, his breath becoming ragged as the surging desires were held at bay, just out of reach: the closest he'd yet come to succumbing to the Pon Farr. "Touch my fingers with yours and know what it is to be joined," he gasped, his whole face breaking into a sweat now.

She had almost... almost... cried out in protest when he'd pulled his hands from hers. The loss of him was sudden and shocking and made her suck in a hard breath to steady herself. She thought she had been clear. She thought... Her eyes opened, taking him in, seeing the conflict and the strain, her senses filling in where the telepathic link had left off. She had been clear. And he had understood. She focused on what he said, watching and almost instinctively copying the gesture he made. Her own hold was looser, more relaxed, than his, a gentler version of the same gesture. A pang of uncertainty rang through her once, and then she was moving, asserting some of her own humanity into motion as she gently placed her fingers at the base of his own before gently and slowly drawing them upward in a caress.

The touch was like a stellar supernova in effect. Sturnack had not been over-exaggerating the effect the mating bond would have. With just a simple touch of fingertips, both of their minds expanded, blending into each other. It was more than just emotions now; powered by the fever blazing through his body, the telepathic connection Sturnack initiated brought their minds against each other. Struggling separately at first but, as each of them eased into the bond, their minds began to pulsate together. Moments from their respective pasts flared across the link, images and voices long distant passing between them as memories collided, blending two into one.

Pushing his fingertips against Jocelyn's, Sturnack moved their hands around and down in a half circle, so that their fingers still touched but did not come between their bodies. The reason for this became evident as, once again, the Vulcan moved closer, now bringing his own lips to lightly brush against hers. Face to face, Sturnack finally did the one thing his body had been screaming for since forever, it seemed like: he let go. All sense of decorum and Vulcan stoicism fell away as he allowed the blood fever to take them both, pulling in their individual desires and intertwining them into one, all-encompassing drive to mingle their bodies.

Pulling her against him, Sturnack kissed her passionately, dropping the fingertip touching to wrap his arms around his woman, their faces now pressed together. In fact, each and every place where their skin touched felt like fire; burning across and through them both as desires escalated. The flash of her throat in the firelight was soon replaced by the strength of his hand, cupping Jocelyn's face and leading her backward, onto the couch in a supple, submissive position to him. He did not press the initiative, however. Bodies sharply against each other, Sturnack waited to see if the woman would pull him in -- as if he needed still another assurance that this was right.

It was an alien and yet entirely encompassing thing to feel the way in which their emotions and desires merged. For a few long moments Jocelyn was nearly lost in it, unsure how to navigate between what was Sturnack and what was herself. So thoroughly entwined were they that his hesitation, for a moment, felt like her own. She realized, with a start, that her eyes were still closed and opened them, blinking up at him. With the return of that simple input she saw the pause in the lines of his body, etched there in striking tension against the hunger in his eyes. Her breath caught as she met his gaze, but her body had rediscovered its own autonomy and with that her hands roamed. His need may have been driven by a biological impetus, but hers was hesitant to rush and eager to please.

Her arms snaked underneath his, coming up to wrap around his shoulders from behind, pulling him down to her. She held one arm in place while the other wandered, brushing down to his hip and finding where the seam of the ridiculous sweater he was wearing ended. Gentle fingers ran along the edge then, meeting skin that was almost fiery in its warmth. She felt emotionally as much as she did physically, the way her touch impacted him and, need flaring, she brought her lips to his urgently, sliding her hand upward underneath the fabric to press hard into the planes of his back.

The pair melted into each other then, bodies, souls, and minds fusing until it was impossible to tell where Sturnack ended and Jocelyn began. What had begun near the fire -- amidst the gleaming love light of the Christmas tree -- was taken upstairs, where behind closed doors, the pair shared of each other until neither could take any more. Collapsed in a tangle of limbs and linens, the pair talked late into the night as the frozen winds howled outside the snow-dusted windows. When sleep finally came for them, they had talked themselves silent but had maintained body contact, falling asleep to the fluxing of emotion felt in their link together.

Something had begun that night. Where it would go, neither knew but both aimed to find out.


=/\= A joint post between... =/\=

Fleet Admiral Sturnack
Commander-in-Chief
Starfleet Command

and

Captain Jocelyn Blake
Press Secretary
Starfleet Command]]>
Fri, 18 Mar 2022 03:30:22 +0000