Post 19 - How Far is Too Far?

Posted on Sun Jan 31st, 2021 @ 8:41pm by Captain Jocelyn Blake & Lieutenant Frank Yaris & Rear Admiral Joshua Whitford
Edited on on Sun Jan 31st, 2021 @ 9:13pm

Mission: Episode 1: Acta Non Verba
Location: Starfleet Headquarters
Timeline: Day 15 - 2000 Hours

[Press Secretary's Office]
[Day 15 - 2000 Hours]

Jocelyn Blake's desk had begun to resemble the work space of an Academy cadet. PADDS were strewn across the surface, many of them in piles that, given the right motivation, might be convinced to slide across the desk after the fashion of a particularly enthusiastic mud slide in monson season. Two half empty coffee mugs held court in the upper right hand corner, and a small lamp was holding back the fray in the upper left. An unopened container housing what was most certainly her lunch huddled forlornly, forgotten and unopened, beneath the lamp.

The desk's owner was currently leaned back in her chair, booted feet crossed at the ankles and propped near one of the PADD mounds. One hand hung down from the chair, cerulean glasses pinched between thumb and forefinger. The other was absently rubbing the space along her eyebrows, making their best unconscious attempt to clear away a pounding headache.

I really should have eaten lunch, she thought to herself.

Despite the hopeful start to the day things had gone rapidly sideways after she had beamed back into Headquarters with Fleet Admiral Sturnack. Her first press briefing, only a short window after her unexpected coffee meeting with the CinC had been a particularly hard one. Delivering the news of millions of deaths, the eradication of an entire species, was not her forte and although she did her best to deliver it with gravitas she had to fight hard to swallow back the swell of grief that overwhelmed her as she did so. Leaving the briefing she knew in the back of her head that someone would inevitably make the story about her.

Press secretary too emotional to deliver news of Chalvana I devastation

Just imagining the headline was mortifying.

Somehow, though, the press had managed to make it an even more impressive swing away from a group of people who deserved to dominate the news cycle. The 11 am briefing brought inquiries about her arrival with the Admiral as though having a cup of coffee and arriving at the same time was an indication of some sort of favoritism or, as one particularly obnoxious rumor suggested, her apparent blackmail of the man. By the time she arrived back at her desk, lunch in hand, she had lost her appetite.

The door chime interrupted her massaging causing her to swing her feet down and away from the desk just a touch too quickly sending one of the many PADD stacks cascading across the surface.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath scrambling to stop the flow of PADDs. As an afterhtought she yelled, "Come in!"

The faigure of Frank Yaris appeared on the other side of her desk wearing a bemused expression. "Are you ok, Captain?" he asked taking in the tidal wave of technology being haphazardly stemmed by his boss. Without thinking he reached over and removed a pile of PADDs that were being propped up by the back of Jocelyn's hand, bright blue glasses still clutched between her fingers.

"Thank you Frank," she said unable to completely hide her embarrassment as she righted herself and settled her glasses on the bridge of her nose. "What can I do for you?"

Yaris, for his part, succeeded in appearing as though he always walked in on PADD disasters. "You've got a message coming in. Low priority, but it's originating from Lakeside."

A frown creased Jocelyn's brow. There were only two people from Lakeside that would call her and neither was likely to try to reach her at work.

"I'll take it in here," she said a deep seated worry working its way up to sit on her chest.

"Of course," Frank acknowledged before setting the pile of PADDs he was holding on the chair in front of her desk and heading back out the door.

A moment later Jocelyn's wall screen lit up with the faces of her parents. Immediately she scanned them over looking for injuries or some other sign of a crisis. Instead of appearing harmed, however, they just looked immensely tired--like life was weighing on them more than a normal day of the week.

"Mom? Dad?" she inquired, "What's going on?"

Her parents shared a quick glance between each other--an act that was both comfortingly familiar and concerning as they only did this when they were about to deliver news they didn't want to share.

"Everything is fine, Jocelyn," her dad began, his facial expression entirely contradicting his words.

"Dad..." Jocelyn broke in, "you only tell me everything is fine when everything is not fine."

A distracted look crossed her father's features along with a small smile that cleared the exhaustion. "That is something I do, isn't it?"

The momentary distraction was brief, however and Jocelyn noted with growing concern how quickly her father's face fell. He had always been an open book--too engrossed in whatever he was doing to learn to school his facial features. It was a weakness a younger Jocelyn had used to her advantage many times, but now it sent a spike of anxiety through her.

"Honey, some kids..."

"Thugs," her mother interjected angrily.

Warran Blake shot a look at his wife. "The police think it was probably kids," he continued.

"What was kids, Dad?" Jocelyn shot back quickly unable to keep the concern from her voice.

"Oh, just say it already Warren," her mother exclaimed before diving in and doing so herself. "Jocelyn, someone vandalized our home last night. There were eggs and toilet paper and they took something to the outside forcefield emitter." Judy Blake paused, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. "Honey, are you ok?"

Jocelyn startled at the sudden turn of questioning. "Mom," she frowned, exasperated, "you tell me that someone vandalized the house and you want to know if I'm ok? I'm fine. Can we get back to what's happening with you two?"

If she had not been so close to her parents, Jocelyn might have missed the look of deepening sadness and worry that crossed her father's features as she spoke.

"Dad...?"

"Honey, it's not just the petty vandalism or the emitter."

Warren Blake took a deep breath as if to steady himself before continuing. "Jocelyn, there was a message burned into the yard."

A growing sense of dread blossomed into Jocelyn's throat as she listened. "What did the message say?" she asked, her voice coming out strangled.

"Honey, are you sure you're ok?" Warren asked.

"Dad, what did the message say?" she asked, more forcefully now.

Her father's face clouded, anger that she rarely saw flashing across his features. "It said 'Jocelyn Blake is a liar'," he said.

It was as though all of the air had gone out of the room. The last breath she took in she held and a buzzing started up in her ears augmented by the pounding of her headache behind her eyes.

She let the breath out.

"It said..." she started, trailing off before reaching the end of her sentence.

"Honey..." Her mom again.

She ignored her, shaking her head as if the act of doing so might wake her from the nightmare of this day.

"Jocelyn..." her father said, more forcefully. "Jocelyn, listen. The police think it was..."

She cut him off. "I need to go," she said. "Are you both safe?"

Her parents looked bewildered by the question. "Safe? Of course we're safe," Warren responded, incredulous. "Jocelyn, what is going on?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I'll explain later, but I need to go now. Lock the doors tonight Dad. And take your coffee inside tomorrow. I'll call you back in a bit."

Unceremoniously she cut the comm link and felt the last dregs of energy flow from her as she did.

Jocelyn Blake is a liar

She didn't have to see the damage to imagine it--an image of their lawn defaced manifesting itself in her mind's eye.

The door chime rang. She ignored it.

It rang again.

"Come," she called wearily.

Frank came in, messenger bag over his shoulder. Of course. It was later than usual and he was still there.

"Umm..." he began awkwardly, "if there isn't anything else I'm going to head out."

She nodded numbly and waved him to the door. "Of course Frank. Go get some rest." And then, "Would you let Admiral Ul-tan know I need a minute on your way out?"

Frank nodded his affirmation then, thinking better, added, "Yes ma'am," before beating a hasty exit from her office.

[Admiral Ul-tan's Office]
[Day 15 - 2045 Hours]

Jocelyn paced outside of Admiral Ul-tan's office. She didn't know Admiral Ul-tan well and in the preceding days they had only had the opportunity to interact professionally with Admiral Ul-tan standing in as head of the Communications Division. She had certainly brought the woman up to speed about matters of the press each day, but beyond those business-like interactions they had spoken very little.

After Frank had left she briefly debated skipping the meeting altogether, but she knew procedure dictated she needed to alert her immediate supervisor of the issue. It hadn't been a threat per se, so Starfleet Security wouldn't be involved. But they had targeted her parents--whoever they were and that warranted a conversation with Admiral Ul-tan.

"Shit shit shit," she swore under her breath as she paced.

She didn't want to deal with this. Not today. Not ever. She just wanted to go home and curl up in her bed and pretend this day hadn't happened. That, however, wasn't how a Starfleet officer comported themselves and so she screwed up the courage to step up to the door setting off the chime to notify Ul-tan of her arrival.

A muffled "Come in" reached her as the doors slide open and Jocelyn stepped inside.

"Captain, what can I do for you?" Ul-tan inquired as Jocelyn entered her office, stopping just short of the door and gaping.

Admiral Ul-tan was not alone. Settled into the seat in front of her desk as though the office was his and not the office of the Communications director sat Rear Admiral Whitford.

"I..." she started falling immediately short. This had to be a nightmare. Would she wake up if she pinched herself?

Ul-tan waited patiently.

"Oh hey, Captain," Whitford spoke up then, offering a shit-eating grin to the Press Secretary. "You know, you made a lot of sense last time we talked. Figured I'd take your advice and have a little chat with the Admiral here," he gestured to Ul-tan. "We were just talking about your handling of...well, just about everything," his eyes brightened with gleeful challenge. "But what's up? You look out of breath. Did you...run over here?" Whitford sat back in his chair a bit then, smug in his assumption that Blake heard he was in Ul-tan's office and rushed over to interfere. "We can get you a towel or something if you need it?" he tacked on then, making sure to sound as helpful as possible -- though, obvious to Blake, he meant absolutely the opposite.

As the DCinC's words washed over her, Jocelyn felt a heavy weariness settle onto her shoulders. She didn't have time for this. She needed to report the incident to Ul-tan, get home, call her parents back, sleep and then do the whole thing again the next day. She needed to eat something. She needed... anything but this.

Choosing not to acknowledge Whitford's barbed attempts to get her temper to flare she instead addressed her supervisor. "Admiral, I need to report an incident," she began, pausing to cut a glance to Whitford, who was grinning smugly at her. "It's to do with my parents, ma'am." Although she hoped that Whitford would take the hint that this was of a personal nature, he notably seemed, to her eyes, to just settle back further into his chair.

"Yes Captain?" Ul-tan inquired, her voice gentle despite the apparent viper in the room.

Jocelyn frowned, but continued. "Their home was vandalized this morning, ma'am. And a message burned into the yard." She paused again, screwing up her courage and embarrassed to be having this conversation with Whitford present. "It read Jocelyn Blake is a liar."

"Well, vandalism is inexcusable. But they aren't wrong, you know?" Whitford's gaze was cold as he looked at Blake, though he was careful to keep his facial expression open and neutral for Ul-tan's benefit -- or rather, for the benefit of Ul-tan not thinking him a monster. "She lies to the press all the time. Well, maybe more like hides things than lying," he shrugged. "She has to for the sake of Federation security, though. I wonder if the word 'obfuscator' was too hard for them to spell in the grass?"

The DCinC could tell Blake was rattled -- he just didn't care. But Whitford was a seasoned political operative and knew how to expertly manipulate people and situations to his own ends. Which is why, to Ul-tan without proper context, his comments would seem like he was on Jocelyn's side and trying to add a little levity to the situation. But the look he left Blake with was completely clear to one who knew the ins-and-outs of their working relationship so far: he was goading her with verbal salt.

Hazel eyes flashed as the DCinC spoke, but that was all the anger that she was willing to allow him to see in that moment. But despite her exterior cold demeanor, her stomach had twisted itself into knots at the flippant dismissal from Whitford. What monster makes light of such things?

"In addition to the message, there was further damage to the property including destruction of a field generator," she continued still deliberately addressing Ul-tan. "My parents have been in touch with local authorities, but considering the message mentions me specifically, procedure dictates that I make you aware. I'll ask my parents to keep me apprised and, of course, bring anything else to your attention should anything escalate."

Jocelyn paused then, forcibly refusing to look at Whitford. "Is there anything else you would like me to do in light of this report, ma'am?"

"I can think of one thing," Whitford sighed, reaching up to gently scratch at his dark, almost-curly goatee. "Resign. That sounds extreme, I know," he spoke directly to Ul-tan, "but as you and I have been discussing already, the burdens of the past are just weighing us down too much right now. We have one civilization about to be wholly wiped out on Chalvana I. The people of Chalvana III are better off but it's going to take generations to recover from their plight. And the Romulan Embassy is about to open and everyone expects the Tal Shiar to take over Starfleet and bring the Federation to its knees. Is now really the best time," he looked then to Blake, "to be saddled with 'People egged my parent's house'?"

Whitford looked back to Ul-tan. "I'm not saying it's her fault, Admiral. She's got a past and it's hanging around her neck -- and now our necks," he added, "like a ten-ton anchor. We're getting dragged down into the muck," the DCinC's voice rose three octaves, "rather than making headway with this stuff."

Jocelyn felt the blood that had drained from her face before suddenly rush back up her neck as she moved from cold shock to white hot anger. How dare he? It was a physical effort to keep her mouth shut as she waited for Ul-tan, not knowing where the Admiral's loyalties might lie.

Admiral Ul-tan had remained largely impassive throughout the exchange, taking in both Whitford and Blake in turn. As both officers turned their gaze to her, she steepled her fingers, leaning back in her chair. The silent tension in her office stretched out for long moments before she spoke.

"Admiral," she began addressing Whitford as the ranking officer in the room, "I certainly understand your concerns, however, Captain Blake's appointment came directly from Fleet Admiral Sturnack. I am not inclined to take any action that might complicate this transition further." Turning her gaze on Jocelyn, she continued, "I am, truly, sorry to hear about this incident affecting your parents."

Jocelyn swallowed a rapidly building lump in her throat, the frustrating side effect of too much anger and exhaustion coming to bear at the same time.

"Do you wish to resign?" Ul-tan asked her simply, her facial expression giving nothing away in the question.

"No ma'am," Jocelyn said, seething that she even needed to be asked such a thing.

"Ok then," the interim Communications Director responded. "Admiral Whitford it seems our Press Secretary would like to continue in her role and I, certainly, don't have grounds to remove her just because her past has some..." the older woman pursed her lips, gesturing with one hand as though she could pluck the word she wanted from the air, "... unfortunate side effects."

"I understand, Admiral," Whitford nodded slowly. "I'm sure Fleet Admiral Sturnack appreciates you looking out for his best interests. If she won't resign," he didn't look at Blake, "and you don't feel its prudent to force the issue from your end," Whitford sounded as if he was lovingly acknowledging that her hands were tied, "I can take the matter to Sturnack myself. The Captain wanted to make sure I chatted with you about things before I did, though," he rose then, looking to Blake. "We'll say that's been checked off the list then, eh?" He offered Ul-tan a smile and a nod, "Thanks for your time, Admiral. Good luck with the grass burners," Whitford offered then to Jocelyn before slipping out of the office.

Jocelyn let out a long breath as Admiral Ul-tan's door whoosed shut behind the departing DCinC.

"I'm sorry about that ma'am," she breathed, the apology a jumble of rush and anxiety tumbling out of our mouth. "It's not my intention..."

Admiral Ul-tan's raised hand stopped her mid-sentence.

"I know that your intention is to do your job fully and to the best of your ability," she said calmly. "I have no complaints about your job performance, Captain."

Jocelyn opened her mouth to reply, but stopped at a look from the Admiral.

"But Captain," Ul-tan continued, "Joshua Whitford is not an enemy you want to make. I don't know if his distaste for you can be undone, but I can guarantee you he will go to Fleet Admiral Sturnack as he says he will and if he does," the Admiral paused, lingering on that thought for just a moment, "I'm not sure my support will be of any help to you. If I were you I would think about finding a way to work together. And barring that you will need to ask yourself how much you really want this position."

Jocelyn frowned, a mixture of hurt and thankfulness coiling in her belly in a way that made her slightly nauseous. Admiral Ul-tan may support her, but it was evident she didn't think her support would warrant going out on a limb.

"Yes, ma'am," Jocelyn replied quietly, only the barest edge of steel tailing the end of her words. "If that is all?"

Ul-tan nodded her dismissal before speaking again, "Yes, it is. And Jocelyn," a small sad smile graced the Admiral's face, "I am sorry about what happened to your parents. Please send them my regards and let me know if there is anything they need."

"Yes," Jocelyn replied, thoughtful, "of course ma'am."

"Now go get some sleep," and with that admonition, Admiral Ul-tan picked up a PADD marking the end of their conversation.

Back in her office only a few moments later Jocelyn slumped down in her chair, the door had barely whoosed shut before she felt hot frustrated tears prick at the corner of her eyes. It hadn't even been a full week yet and somehow it felt like months.

Despairing of what tomorrow would hold, Jocelyn Blake sat at her desk, head in her hands, and cried.

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

Rear Admiral Josh Whitford (Brad's NPC)
Deputy Commander in Chief
Starfleet Command

Captain Jocelyn Blake
Press Secretary
Starfleet Command

Lieutenant Frank Yaris
Aide to the Press Secretary
Starfleet Command