Post 14 - Coffee Mate

Posted on Tue Jan 19th, 2021 @ 11:47pm by Fleet Admiral Sturnack & Captain Jocelyn Blake

Mission: Episode 1: Acta Non Verba
Location: Horseshoe Cafe, San Francisco, CA, Earth
Timeline: Day 15 0500 Hours

[Outside of Starfleet Headquarters]
[Day 15 - 0500 Hours]

It had only been a few days, but for the first time that morning Jocelyn hadn't woken up in a fog feeling like she had slept mere minutes instead of the 6 to 7 hours she had been averaging. The last few nights she had been so tired that she had practically fallen into bed. Last night she had only just bothered to toss her uniform over a chair before climbing under the covers. Her eyes were already closed by the time her head hit the pillow.

She had woken later than she planned that morning, but rationalized that she must have needed the sleep as she rushed to comb red locks back into a loose bun and made sure she was grabbing a fresh uniform and not the one she had worn the day prior. Her glasses were a deep cerulean today, a striking color that she didn't wear often. With this much press attention, though, she had decided she might as well go all in with the bright color. Maybe it would help her wake up.

She was still using her R&D tumbler and had swiped it from the counter while running out the door keys in hand, a stack of PADDs tucked into a messenger bag. Marlena had agreed to meet outside of Headquarters today so they had time to walk. The weather was dry and still, giving the impression that it was warmer than it was in reality. And Jocelyn was hoping the other woman could give her some insight into Whitford. There had to be a better way to deal with the incessant bullying he had undertaken.

Avoiding the urge to pace, she settled herself on a bench, elbows on knees and hands clasped in front of her staring at a spot about two feet in front of her so that she wouldn't be tempted to look up at the doors to the building to see if Marlena was coming through them. She was, despite having had nothing be warm welcomes from the woman all week, unaccountably nervous.

A minute or so later, a sotto voice disturbed the quiet fall morning, but only just. "Captain?" the tenor-tone interrupted, trailing upward at the end in true question form. Sturnack had meant to summon the woman from her thoughts, though in retrospect, it may have sounded more like he was questioning her identity instead. Thus, he clarified: "Good morning, Captain Blake." Ah yes, he did remember her name after all. "Marlena has asked me to convey her apologies: some developments this morning have co-opted her plans with you. However," the Fleet Admiral adjusted a messenger bag of his own, slung over his shoulder, "if you are not opposed to the company, I volunteered to accompany you in her stead."

In the three preceding days that she had held the rank of Captain, Jocelyn had been addressed by her rank what felt like no less than a million times a day. It had started to sink in that she held the rank of Captain and the day prior, she had finally stopped having the desire to look over her shoulder to see who everyone was speaking to. Yet somehow, being addressed by Fleet Admiral Sturnack caught her off guard and, despite herself, she looked to see if maybe he had meant someone else.

As if sensing that a Commander-in-Chief showing up instead of a friend might be confusing, Sturnack nodded slowly and deeply before jumping in with further explanation. "I would like to bring you up to speed," he used a human aphorism, "on the current events that have necessitated the change in your plans. And in addition," he gestured to the walkway ahead, "I could use the physical activity. It has been a long morning already," the Vulcan noted. And indeed, his own morning had begun earlier than expected, having received an urgent communique that roused him from sleep. "Marlena has instructed me to bring our mugs along," the Fleet Admiral said, patting the bag resting on his hip. It was a deep mahogany with careworn lines connoting years of use. It shone under the streetlamps that punctuated the darkness of the early morning.

Pulling herself together she stood quickly, nodding her affirmation as she voiced it. "No, sir. I'm not opposed to the company at all and glad to get ahead on any updates." She set out, unsurprised, but slightly unnerved, as the Vulcan CinC fell into step with her. "Has your coffee been," she hesitated a moment mid question, "to your liking this week?"

A much younger version of Sturnack would have dismissed the small talk in the face of the escalating crisis on Chalvana III. There was much to discuss and inane chatter did little to further progress on needed fronts. However, decades of time spent with humans had taught the Fleet Admiral that sometimes, people just needed to ease into things even if he, himself, did not. And so it was that he replied, though his tone was -- as usual -- sculpted neutrally, devoid of the shapes, wrinkles, or other tonal features that might issue from someone less...restrained. "The coffee has, in fact, been more than adequate, Captain," he nodded, walking along side her.

Over the last few days, Marlena had mentioned to Blake that "more than adequate" was Sturnack for "Really great." It seemed Vulcans had a language all of their own when it came to expressing their emotions or lack thereof. Not a lack, Marlena had clarified during the previous conversation. More like...holding back a tsunami, letting nothing through... the aide-de-camp had said. But word choice aside, the Commander-in-Chief clearly appreciated the quality of the coffee, else he wouldn't be walking with Blake to a shop so far from the SFC Complex.

"Your suggestion was well made," the Vulcan conceded then, his eyes roving over the sidewalk ahead. As the morning sun prepared to rise in the distance, opposite the great Golden Gate to the west, a slight breeze stirred, energized by the oncoming solar conditions. "You should be aware that I've ordered Marlena not to divulge your secret sanctuary," he added, stepping at a pace that matched his walking companion's.

A laugh bubbled up from Jocelyn's chest despite herself. "Fair enough, sir," she said amused at the precaution. While she knew Marie was more than prepared to take on as many clients as would come through her doors, Jocelyn was content for the place to remain a bit quieter. She had a feeling she might need the escape from her fellow officers from time to time. An image of Whitford standing in the doorway of her office for the umpteenth time describing her work as insufficient and infantile flashed across her mind's eye and the weariness of the last few days hit her again full force. A cup of coffee was going to be a boon this morning.

Sturnack nodded again, curious about the laugh's source -- humor still escaped him, even after so many years serving with other species. He fell into silence for a time, punctuated by their footfalls and those of Lieutenants Lorenza and Kk'teel, security detail officers who kept a respectful distance while maintaining a watchful eye. When the Vulcan felt sufficient time had passed to allow Blake to settle into her new situation -- an unexpected coffee talk with the CinC -- Sturnack finally broached the subject that chained Marlena to her desk back at headquarters.

"I have concerning news to report, Captain," the man said, still in that same dispassionate tone of his. "I awoke to new information about the developing situation on Chalvana III. The coronal ejection that precipitated this crisis is not a lone incident, it seems. A second ejection flared one point six hours ago. This ejection, too, is of questionable origin. The Martin Luther has made orbit and was able to partially protect the planet. However, Chalvana I's orbit is such that the affects of the ejection were felt more severely there. The civilization will perish, Captain," he nodded somberly.

Jocelyn sucked in a breath and resisted the urge to curse no matter how curse-worthy the news was. She had been briefed on the population of Chalvana I, of course, but had relegated them largely to the back of her mind since the impact to their world after the initial ejection was minimal. Now, those figures came swimming back up from the depths of her memory.

3 million people. It was one of those occasions where the size of the number was too difficult to truly grasp.

"How long do they have?" she asked, buying herself a moment to process and hoping to gather some additional context.

"The Daystrom Institute estimates a day," Sturnack replied quietly, "possibly two. It is, it seems, difficult to assess the biological impact without direct examination." Whether she'd known it or not, Blake's pace seemed to have slowed in the wake of the news the Vulcan had just delivered -- an understandable reaction for beings who could not isolate themselves from their emotions. The subconscious effects were always there; always felt. "The Martin Luther is sending a team to study the situation further but there is little that can be done at this juncture," he said dryly. "You will need to brief the Press this morning. News of this escalation is not likely to stay quiet for long."

Thankfully, reports received by Starfleet Command about such things were confidential. Rumors might abound and unofficial details of the situation could escalate from communications from Chalvana III itself, but official details and statements about such would only come from the Communications office. This, of course, meant there was still time for Blake and Sturnack to take in their walk, the former perhaps savoring the last moments of calm before another slipstream-speed day truly began.

Jocelyn nodded her acknowledgement to the information Sturnack had provided. It was difficult not to image the collective fear of a civilization watching its end in only a matter of days. In the grand scheme of things 2 days to a total extinction was very quick, but Jocelyn knew if she were Chalvanan in this moment the whole experience would feel like an agonizingly slow eternity. She shot a glance over at the CinC who had fallen quiet again as they walked, curious to see if she could glean even a glimmer of what he was thinking from his body language. The Vulcan man's visage remained neutral, eyes straight ahead, pace measured. She both envied him and couldn't fathom not telegraphing her ever emotion in the intimate nuances of her on motions and expressions.

At that moment they turned onto the street where The Horseshoe stood. The coffee shop was lit up, a bright outline against the edge of the cliff. The usual lineup of locals could be seen through the shop's windows, only three deep as they approached the entrance.

"So this is your fortress," Sturnack commented unthinkingly, visually assessing the Horseshoe as he accompanied Blake inside. The line was short and those gathered in the coffee shop seemed quite focused on caffeinating themselves into rapid wakefulness. Some were fixated on glowing screens of varying sizes in front of them while others stared out at the bay through the expansive windows at the back of the shop. Sunrise proper was a couple of hours away yet but the fullness of the moon cast a ghostly light on the Golden Gate, drawing Sturnack's own gaze.

"You could say that," she said, the smile working its way into her voice. "It's certainly been a respite these last several years."

The line ahead moved, placing the Vulcan and his coffee mate in the second position. In preparation, Sturnack reached into his messenger bag with his right hand and, one-by-one, began withdrawing thermoregulated tumblers in Command cranberry. Each was emblazoned with the official seal of Starfleet Command: a Starfleet chevron crowned in Federation laurels, laid on a bed of blue sky and prominent stars. After two tumblers had been withdrawn -- ostensibly to accompany Jocelyn's R&D thermos -- the Vulcan then oddly produced a third, offering it to his newly minted Press Secretary.

"I understand that others are often fond of objects that remind them of the past," Sturnack began, nodding to the tumbler in Blake's hand, "but I thought, perhaps, you might appreciate something a bit more...apropos to your new position, Captain," the Vulcan said as the line moved again, the last bit in earshot of someone who could only be Marie -- the proprietor Marlena had described to him from her previous visit with Blake.

Jocelyn stared at the tumbler in Sturnack's hand, a warm feeling creeping its way up from her belly. The kindness caught her entirely off guard after taking so many hits these last few days. Unexpectedly, she felt a small lump in her throat. Feigning a cough, she put her hand to her mouth a moment, buying time to respond.

"Thank you, sir. It's lovely," she finally managed, somehow infusing more emotion into those 5 words than was, perhaps, entirely necessary.

Marie's voice shattered the moment, drawing Jocelyn's attention. "Joce! I see you've brought another new friend!" Amusement colored the proprietor's voice.

Jocelyn felt a blush creep up above her collar despite herself. "Ah, yes," she replied. "Marie, this is Fleet Admiral Sturnack, the Commander-in-Chief of Starfleet."

The other woman's eyes widened slightly, the only clue that she was surprised.

"Admiral," Jocelyn continued, "this is Marie. She owns the Horseshoe Café and is single-handedly responsible for the increased quality of your daily latte."

Marie laughed at that and then extended her hand across the counter. "I'm honored to have you here, Admiral."

"The honor is mine," the Fleet Admiral replied, reaching forward to shake the offered hand. "During our walk, I was commenting to Captain Blake that my morning caffeine consumption has been elevated by your artisan craftsmanship. However," he added neutrally, "I also vowed not to reveal her secret spot. Doing so would damage the personal solitude of this place for the Captain," he said, not looking back at Blake, "and likely delay my morning coffee moving forward, given the increased foot traffic. It would not be...logical," the Vulcan said, almost as if he were saying the word to intentionally reinforce the image people had of his kind.

As for his gift, Sturnack had been too sidelined by introductions to notice Blake's blushing in response. However, he was satisfied to see Blake include her new carafe on the counter with those meant for Marlena and himself. "Marlena tells me," he looked back to his companion, "that my coffee order is 'inexcusably complicated.' However," his gaze turned to Marie, "I hope you will not mind the complexity. My order will consist off..."

Smiling mischievously, Marie interrupted the Vulcan finishing his sentence. "One triple strong dark chocolate latte, heated to exactly 73 degrees Celsius. No whip. Two pumps of caramel in the middle of the drink so it doesn't get stuck on the sides. Did I get that right?"

Jocelyn had been following the exchange quietly, gratitude at the CinC's description of why he had ordered Marlena not to divulge their caffeine source welled up in her chest. She quelled the competing surprise that the CinC would understand what it meant to her to have a space that was safe to just be.

"You have an exceptional memory," the Vulcan nodded in response, unaware of his human companion's concurrent gratitude and surprise. "However, as Marlena might say in my absence...it is a four shot kind of day," Sturnack admitted. Given the awfulness he and Blake would soon walk into when arriving back at the SFC Complex, four shots of espresso was probably taking it easy...

"Alright then," Marie said, back to the business of keeping people awake. "I'll have these up for you down at the end in a few."

"Thanks Marie," Jocelyn responded moving off toward her favorite table next to the window. The moonlight over the bay was entrancing today, rippling with the gentle motion of the water. The lights from buildings all around gave the impression of stars over a mirror. Without thinking about the company she was with she let out a deep sigh, feeling some of the tension of the week unknot as she did. Maybe if there were moments like this she could manage the terrible ones with bullies like Whitford. Maybe this was just the hiccups of a first week. As she thought it her mind turned back to the citizens on Chalvana I who were rapidly disappearing from the universe. Could she really complain when disasters like this existed in the galaxy?

"An appreciable view," the Vulcan said, gently lowering onto the chair opposite Blake. "Tell me, Captain," he attempted to steal her attention away from the window, "how is your first week progressing? It is unfortunate that an entire solar system in crisis has upended what should have been a quiet transition." Sturnack sat there calmly, his dark brown eyes looking back at his new Press Secretary with interest. It did not take Vulcan logic to determine that Blake had, in fact, had a terrible first week but Sturnack did not feel it was his place to verbally presume such.

Still looking out the window, Jocelyn pursed her lips, the crease of a frown forming between her eyebrows. She allowed herself a moment longer to look at the view before releasing a held breath. By the time she turned back to the CinC, the frown was gone, although she remained thoughtful. Her own voice from only a few days prior echoed in Jocelyn's head as she recalled telling Marlena that the opposition that was getting in the way of Sturnack's ability to do his job was her own problem now. And it was with that memory in mind that she chose her response carefully:

"Truthfully, sir, it has not been the easiest transition," Jocelyn admitted. "But you've put your faith in the right person. Take the Chalvana III crisis out of the mix and I am sure things will be much calmer." Her words sounded hollow in her own ears, leaving her to wonder just how much the unemotional Vulcan could read his emotional human counterparts.

The Vulcan was not altogether unaccustomed to well-intentioned, emotional deception. It was a common trait amongst many species of the cosmos but humans, especially, had difficulty admitting their true meaning at times. "There is a misconception about my people, Captain. We are presumed not to understand emotions given our preference for suppressing them," he explained. "However, that is not the case. I sense this transition is taking a toll on many fronts and I apologize if my actions have contributed to your worries in some way, Captain." The Vulcan sat quietly then, savoring the short-lived peace ahead of their return to the office. "The music here is so...peppy," he remarked as an aside, referring to the bubbly piano music twinkling in the background din of lowered voices and scraping chairs.

Jocelyn mulled that over, letting the Vulcan's words sink in. She hadn't meant to say anything that might elicit an apology and yet she was appreciative of the gesture all the same. The CinC's musical observations drew a chuckle from her. "Peppy is a good word for it, yes," she replied. Then, more seriously, "You don't owe me any apologies, sir. You gave me a chance where no one else would."

"A chance you more than deserved, Captain," the Vulcan added on. "You may not be aware of this, but I was a strong proponent for criminal charges being brought against Leyton," Sturnack explained. "I, myself, was sidelined as a result. If it were not for Fleet Admiral McGarry reassigning me as his deputy, I would likely still be such. While his death is unfortunate, perhaps it affords a new start for both of us?" The question was not rhetorical -- the CinC clearly wanted Jocelyn to acknowledge such. However, the chittering of his combadge broke into the moment.

"Sir, I'm sure you're enjoying terrorizing poor Marie with your order but a reminder: your briefing begins in ten minutes," came the voice of Marlena from across the comm.

Sturnack reached up then, tapping his combadge and nodding. "Understood Commander. Please have Transport Control standing by to return me to headquarters. Captain," he looked then to Jocelyn, "would you prefer a few additional moments of peace afforded by walking? Our would you prefer to beam back as well?"

"A few extra minutes to rerun the key numbers for Chalvana I wouldn't hurt," she replied. "I'll go get our drinks."

She stood quickly using the excuse of walking to the counter to reflect on Sturnack's words. She did hope this would be a new start, but the way these first few days had gone that possibility felt very far out of reach. Tucking her own new tumbler under her arm, she collected the rest and returned to the table. "Ready when you are," she said, offering him the first tumbler before resituating her own.

When Blake returned, Sturnack was already standing. He reached out to accept the offered tumbler, then took Marlena's as well. "Thank you, Captain," he nodded softly. "Perhaps we should beam out from outside? It would be less of a...buzz kill," the CinC said, arching an eyebrow as he uncharacteristically (for Vulcans) considered the emotional needs of others present in the café. It was his experience that, in such hallowed personal spaces such as these, patrons did not always enjoy reminders that the world's business was still ongoing outside. A hasty beam out would certainly break the Horseshoe's ambiatic spell, especially since the two members of Sturnack's security detail would also need transport. "This way then," Sturnack nodded, his feet in motion.

Leading the way once more, the Vulcan slipped out of the egress and assumed position on a clear stretch of morning sidewalk. Once Blake and the detail officers joined him, another quick tap of the combadge allowed the call for transport. The quadratic grouping sparkled away in a haze of vertical, striated lines that whisked them from the streets of San Francisco to the front entrance of Starfleet Command proper. After passing through the Gates of Bob, Sturnack and company rode the turbolift upstairs and then diverged their paths: Blake to her office and the CinC to his. It would be an intensely long day but at least they had coffee...

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

Captain Jocelyn Blake
Press Secretary
Starfleet Command

and

Fleet Admiral Sturnack
Commander-in-Chief
Starfleet Command